#combined with blue witch magic

[musclesandhammering]

How do we feel about the theory that Loki’s magic is green because celestial magic (yellow) + witch magic (blue) = green?

[tteokdoroki]

✎ᝰ. OCT 22ND ★ SOMNOPHILIA - seishiro nagi .ᐟ

[CHAPTER TWENTY TWO SLEEPING BEAUTY ] once upon a time, a brave knight, destined to marry someone she’d never met, says fuck it and plans to reap the rewards of saving the prince from eternal slumber. without realising that he’s already awake… ( 8.8K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters in their 20s, sleeping beauty!au, somnophilia, hold the moan, overstimulation, cockwarming, dacryphilia, outer-course, handjobs, blowjobs, pussyjobs, free use, dub con, cumplay, creampies, not beta read, knight + fem!reader, aurora!seishiro nagi.

✧ fairy godmother's note - this is so late i'm so sorry, i think i might start posting kinktober towards the end of the week and into november, enjoy me loves. miss u loads! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

you hardly remember the day that prince nagi was born — despite most definitely being there for the ceremony that commemorated it. at the time, you were hardly out of your own leading strings, still babbling dumbly and clinging to your mother’s garments whenever someone poked their nose in your face. obviously far too young to remember the curse placed on him by that wicked witch maleficent. 

prince seishiro nagi was beloved by all and affection for him was widespread throughout the kingdom. he was born deep into the night, at a time where the sky had been painted with deep blue and midnight hues, with hair as silky and pale as the silver moon and eyes like the glittering starry sky. so they said. at least that’s what your been told. while present at the time, you would hardly know — you were too young to remember how he looked nor the very moment you were promised to him as a baby yourself. 

from the moment you were born, your fate was signed away before your very first breath and once you arrived and took two steps you were instantly reared to become prince seishiro’s future wife. to help join two kingdoms in harmonious union. from the moment you could talk, you’d spent your entire life training to become the wife of a man you hardly knew. there were lessons in perfect posture, dainty dancing and simple sewing. not to mention how to serve a king and please a husband  — who apparently had unnatural beauty, the softest voice and the kindest of hearts. outside of nagi, you hadn’t a single hobby or interest that didn’t concern him, solely born and bred for his best interest. how were you supposed to know if any of those spoken traits were really true and not just word of mouth when nobody had any idea where the prince actually was. 

rumour had it, that the silver haired royal had been whisked away to the woods to be raised by the very fairies that blessed him — with hopes of avoiding maleficent’s malevolent curse in which seishiro was destined to prick his finger on a poisoned spinning wheel by age twenty three. in an attempt to undo the wicked spell, the fairies had combined their magic and made it so that only a true love's kiss would be able to wake up their beloved prince. which soon became your duty, by the time you came of age too. 

since then, and for twenty two years after, there was not a peep from the prince — to his people and his kingdom, he’d practically vanished overnight, becoming one with the moon and stars they prayed to each night. holding out hope for his return to the throne. 

in turn, you had no idea when your duty would come to fruition. maleficent's thunderous mountain, shrouded in a thick layer of green, jealous smog that was sure to suck the life from any innocent soul still raged on — meaning her curse hadn’t come true. she still hadn’t found the prince. no one had.

no one except for you. 

unknowingly, you’d met nagi humming amongst pointed shrubbery and wild flowers deep in the forest — absentmindedly complaining about tne berries he was forced to forage for his uncles back home. for you, it was instant, as though an invisible force had drawn you two him like the the two poles of a magnet. prince seishiro was a sight to behold, even before you knew who he was, the timbre trill of his voice filled you with a wave of unfamiliar butterflies that battled their way into your throat — trapping your voice. his eyes were an enchanting pool of riches, frightened of your presence at first, but filled with stripes of silver you were sure had to be stolen from the moon. 

for you, it was love at first sight. a powerful urge to be near him building up in your lungs like fluid in a sick person. you were sure he felt the same — the emotion obvious in the way he tentatively touched you as you talked about nothing and everything at all. the way he swooped down to your height to listen to tales of land and fortune he could only have dreamed of.

in those hours that you spent alone together; pressed into one another’s side’s amongst intertwined tree branches like two lovers' limbs after a night of improper passion  — you’d felt the most seen you had in all your life. for the first time in forever, someone saw you as more than just a bargaining chip or a trophy to be paraded around royal courts in honour of union. someone saw you as a whole, read your story from start to finish and still wanted to know more. you weren’t just a knight made to save a prince. to nagi, you were so much more.

and to you, nagi was a breath of fresh air — someone who craved a more exciting life rather than being banished to a life of greenery and foliage. despite his charming air of laziness and naivety, he expressed to you a burning sense of eager deep within. it was innocent, inquisitive but nagi’s thoughts called out to you like the bird song of two mates. the worlds you came from were different, clearly, but you just made sense to one another.

but back then, in those quiet moment with your head on his shoulder and nothing but the sound of oak leaves swaying in the gentle summer breeze — you’d had no idea that the silver haired stranger was just prince seishiro living under a different name. you thought him a commoner and he thought you a random huntress on a horse. no one had any idea that he was the crown prince, that he’d been snuck back into the castle on the day of his twenty third birthday to regain his title and his crown… only to be lulled by the cruel call of a sinister stranger  shortly — pricking his finger just like maleficent had planned. 

you were meant to marry. you were supposed to go back for seishiro and run away together, live apart from the expectations bestowed upon you as children. unfortunately, you wouldn’t find out until returned to the spot where you’d first met him, and were met with the face of the villain herself. instead of your lover. that’s when you realised the gravity of it all. who seishiro was. who you were meant to be. 

deep down, you knew this was a love too sacred to pass by, and with the white haired prince counting on you —  you would do everything in your power to save him. save the prince and the kingdom from sleeping soundly for the next one hundred years.

with the help of the fairies who raised nagi, you were able to take down the terrible maleficent — grateful that your parents had at least made you handy with a sword. through the flames of the beast above you, you wielded your weapon with a strength and bravery that would go down into the history books of lands far and wide. killing maleficent in the form of the dragon had been no easy feat but you fought, with screaming muscles and a bloody face — fulfilling the duty you had been born to do. trained to do. for nagi and for your kingdom. 

the difference was, this time, you were doing all of this for love. not just for honour.

after winning the flaming battle, you staggered your way through the kingdom despite your burns and free bleeding wounds, making your way up to the tower where your silver-moon haired lover slept. part of you felt envious of the slumbering kingdom, the eternal rest they had slipped under while your body burned and ached with every step that you took… but as soon as you laid eyes on your handsome prince — sleeping like a fallen angel crowned by scattered lights. the glinting particles of dust forming a shining halo over his sleep the steel hair. 

the beat of your heart quickens as you approach the bed tucked deep within his quarters — rivalling the speed of the finest royal race horse and the world completely falls away until the all that remains are you and seishiro. your prince. your love. even while he sleeps, he’s unfairly handsome, grey lashes dusted with starlight just barely brushing the apples of his milky-toned cheeks, his hair curls against his forehead and his lips, rose-tinted, part with each gentle exhale his body takes to keep him alive. without even thinking, your finger trails the slopes and contours of nagi’s delicate features, brushing over his Cupid’s bow that seems damp with the condensation of his warm breaths. the sensation stokes a fire within you while your mind wanders to less than pleasant thoughts.

how would his lips feel if you were to kiss him? how would they taste? how would seishiro kiss you back? the questions swirl around in the calcium cage of your skull like a storm untapped, fuelled by the remnants of adrenaline that simmers in your veins from the fight. it would be wrong, to do what you’re thinking of doing — to press your lips to the seam of his and run your tongue every inch in his hot mouth, behind his teeth and over his own pink muscle. maybe even to cup his throat and feel every breath he takes. it would be so wrong… and yet, your moral compass and previous duties seem to be out of working order, thus, losing the war the flickering desirous flame within you. one that rivals the breath of the dragon slaid outside.

no one would really care if you were to have the way with the crown prince. after all, you would need to be rewarded for your self sacrifice and service to the kingdom that could have very well been burned to the ground if it hadn’t been for your bravery. you deserved this, you deserved him and the chance to appease your growing appetite for the sleeping beauty before you. right now, there were no barriers… no servants and squires and maids or men to tell you what was proper of a knight or of a promised woman, and there certainly weren’t any barriers to the body of the silver haired prince. without any blankets, there wasn’t much to stop you from trailing a hand over seishiro’s clothed stomach and over the hills of his princely dress pants.

your fingertips grazed the taut muscles of his thick thighs as you teased yourself. teased the slumbering royalty. daring tug at the belt loops and thick leather her bound his trousers to his unfairly slender waist. with your lip caught between the sharp edge of your teeth, you unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants inch by inch, a tidal wave of goosebumps erupting over the surface of your body like freshly plucked chicken skin as you reveal more and more of his milky, toned flesh. he’s smooth all over, blueish veins apparent as they spiral underneath his skin, but nagi is just as soft as you remember, as warm brushing up against you as he was the day you first met in the woods.

saliva spreads across your tongue like a sheet of rain during a storm or a flash flood when his undergarments come down with the hem of his trousers, revealing a snow white path of pubic hair that curls prettily against his pelvis. there’s a craving for more that sloshes into the dips and deficits of your brain, like a dark haze that shrouds your brain in nothing but lust — so you act on the feeling, pulling more and more fabric away from seishiro’s most intimate parts until his cock, half hard and already leaking, is able to spring free. 

the sleeping beauty’s breath hitches and catches on the edges of his throat as his hard-on first hits the cool air shrouding his chambers. whatever preconceived notion you’d had of the prince’s body beforehand is quickly tossed away when you finally set your sights on his girth — he is as long as he is thick, chubby against the softness of his tummy with a pink tip that already oozes a thick stream of cream caused by the ghost of your touch over him. a warmth spreads through your entire body, an urge to taste him washing over you in a poor attempt to cool your need down. if you taste him, would that be part of your reward? would it matter to anyone if you put your mouth on the prince while he innocently slept… especially after you’d saved everyone?

you still cannot find it within yourself to care. 

perhaps the wounds maleficent inflicted upon you have left traces of her bad energy, for you continue to disregard your own morals and good intentions by crawling onto nagi’s bed ( careful with your movements while he shifts in his slumber ) and you keep your touch tender when taking him into your hold, the supple pads of your fingers wrapping around the length of the prince’s shaft while you smooth the pad of your thumb into the slit on his cockhead. rubbing the precum into it sweetly. now up close and personal with his most intimate parts, you’re able to catch the scent of nagi… which only worsens your hunger for him. he smells so good, the musky scent of his arousal almost sending your eyes into the back of your skull — acting like fumes of a pretty wildflower in the forest you once met. 

it hypnotises you, takes over your every thought and action in the heat of the moment. every sensation you once felt is now heightened by your own arousal, the feeling of your tongue behind your teeth and the silken sheets against your knees and the blistering temperature of seishirou’s girth in your palm. adjusting your grip on him to something more firm, soft little hands dwarfed by the sheer size and thickness of him, and accidentally pull a tiny moan from your sleeping lover. any trepidation mingling with the air in your lungs is quickly eradicated once you finally give in, flicking your tongue over the cream gathering at nagi’s mushroomed cockhead that burns a painful shade of deep red.

opening your mouth, you take seishiro down your throat as though it’s the easiest thing in the world, your tongue flexing against the bluish purple forked veins that spiral down his heavy shaft. all you want to do is make him harder, feel the blood rush from his slumbering brain to his balls so you can take him properly, elsewhere, later on. what doesn’t fit past the seams of your chapped lips, you continue to palm, setting a steady pace to the rhythm of your hands jerking the silver-haired prince off. its slick and easy, aided by the thick globs of precum that spill over your knuckles and sink into the lines in your palms — seishiro may be asleep, but his body reacts, hips bucking into your closed fist while he squeaks and sighs lazily. 

his head remains tacked to the pillow tucked behind it, starlight locks splayed out across the cooling silk fabric — perfectly tousled despite being slightly out of place as he writhes under the sinful prison of your hot, wet mouth. even you have to moan as you sink down on him, his heavy and pulsating balls meeting your chin while your nose nudges the prickliness of his happy trail. if he were awake, you wonder if nagi would be the type to coax you through giving him head — soft whimpers glossed in his lips while those moonshine grey eyes hold your gaze. or would he push your head down on him and fuck your mouth lazily as though it were another hole to fill with his cum.

part of you wants to rouse him right now, with the kiss of true love the fairies said would work on him, but only to hear how much louder he’d cry and moan for you. you want to hear how the Prince would praise you for taking him so well, slurping the early seed from his tip and hollowing your perfect pudgy cheeks as you gargle him down your eager throat. your imagination runs ahead of your actions as you bob your head faster and faster without regard for your lover sleeping soundly above you lewd slurping sounds echo throughout the room as you picture him looking down at you with flushed cheeks and lidded moonlit eyes — coaxing you to take more of him. 

the heat between your thighs returns, an unbearable searing ache pulsating through your clit as blood carrying lust and other happy hormones shoot straight to it. in one swift motion, you shove a single hand past the waistband of your own pants and undergarments to toy with the sensitive bud, smearing whatever remained of his precum and pre-release against your awaiting cunt. your eyes flutter shut at the taste and heaviness of nagi on your tongue, his viscous arousal flowing down your throat in saltine waves. the flavour was addictive and you found yourself bobbing your head faster, and faster — matching it to the pace at which you stroked your own sticky slit.

lavishly, you run your tongue back and forth over the opening of seishiro’s bulbous cockhead, humming happily around his thick shaft when he involuntarily bucks into the hellish fire of your mouth — it makes your heart swell to know that his body is reacting to you and you alone, how it could very well be this way for the rest of your lives. while you hump your own fingers, their tips pruning with how wet you are as you circle your clit, the sleepy beauty’s balls batter your chin as his taut hips thrust upwards instinctively to chase your dripping tongue and mouth.

drool pours from the corners of it, just as you leak against the seat of your panties — your juices hot and viscous while you finger fuck yourself and get off to the sensation of blowing the sleepy prince while he rests. everything is so sloppy, so messy and wet and you can’t help but to spit down on nagi as his dick swells against your tongue, the frothy mixture clinging to the prominent blood flushed veins that sprinkle from the tip down to his base. 

your release sneaks up on you like a silent figure in the night; hiding from the moonlight and a dirty moan slips from between your lips as you let go of your lover with a lewd pop, your jaw aches deliciously and your tongue is sore from running circles over his tip — as is your wrist from being down your pants to bully shapes into your clit but you don’t mind the pain, it’s all worth it to make yourself feel good. to make nagi feel good so you can use him later on, turning him from a prince into a sex doll. dopamine continues to spark across your brain as you switch from sucking to jerking nagi off, keeping the rhythm of your slick palm wrapped around him in tune with the one that rolls your clit between your fingertips and pinches your swollen folds. 

you don’t last much longer, not when you’re able to watch the moonlit prince fall apart above you even when the depths of sleep cling to the fine lines of his soul. the last remaining thread of your sanity snaps before you’re cumming against your own digits, gushing through the gusset of your panties and straight through the layer or your pants — even while you shiver and shake from the force of your own orgasm, you manage to find a the mobility to tap nagi’s cockhead lewdly against your pink tongue, grinning with an open mouth as his own orgasm rips through his unconscious form. 

warm and viscous seed paints a pretty picture against your strawberry tastebuds as it spurts copiously from his ravaged, fully erect cock. even hitting the back of your throat. 

but it’s not enough, it’s still not enough. a fire of desire still burns bright inside of you and nagi is still as hard as a rock in your hand. so you don’t see a point in stopping, not when you still want him and he clearly still wants you. 

in a whirlwind of fabric, you quickly abandon the lower half of your clothes — even though your legs are violently shaking and there’s a fizz in your brain that makes your vision go blurry from your orgasm, you find the strength to clamber into the prince’s lap and straddle him. a pulse of excitement runs through you as your bare ass meet his half dressed thighs and you set your palms flat against his chest to steady yourself above him. you’re barely able to contain the wavering moan that rumbles in the back of your throat as seishiro’s erection jumps against your sluice sex, as if coaxing you to lower yourself down onto him.

without an air of guilt, you do just that; indulging your sleeping lover’s underlying plea as you slip a hand between your temperate bodies to position his creamy cock at your weeping entrance — you run it back and forth over your slit a few times whilst holding back a quivering hiss, letting him dip in and out of your unused hole. you can’t help but squeak adorably when you start to rock your hips down, sucking him in and stretching over the thick circumference of his tip. you even manage to clench down on seishiro, trapping him inside with each inch you manage to take.

your head hangs low and you steady yourself against nagi again; nails forming pink crescent moons against his pearlescent skin because you’re not sure how much of this burn you can take. he’s so big, yet his cock is so helpless against your sticky walls — it’ll take a lot of work just to reach the hilt. “oh, fuck,” you whimper to yourself quietly, not wanting to be caught taking advantage of the kingdom’s slumbering royalty. you try to stablwlisw your breathing, hold onto your sanity by only fucking yourself over his tip because right now… it’s all you can manage. getting used delicious stretch to your pussy and the resistance of your hole as nagi slips into your tightness. 

in order to ground yourself, you press yourself against the moonlit prince until you’re both chest to chest — allowing your body to relax against is as you slide further down his cock. and, with this change in position, you easily dot feather light kisses from the pale skin, unmarked skin of seishiro’s neck up to his jawline — licking the light layer of perspiration that added diamonds to his skin. his pulse is slow, languid under your lips, just as the rise and fall of his chest is. nagi still sound asleep as you bathed his cock in all of your syrupy wetness. eventually, you reach his lips and hardly hesitate in kissing them, lapping over the seam of them with your tongue as if you’re asking for entrance when you don’t really need to.

not when his body is so willing to give into you, even while seishiro rests.

you swear you feel his lips twitch apart against your own, parting specifically for you to pour your withering moans into him and breathe life into his unconscious soul — your tongue licks at his, relishing in the flavour and slight sweetness to his mouth, letting it distract you from the twinge between your thighs as you finally seat yourself on his girth fully; breeders balls nestled comfortably against the curve of your ass. a feeling of content washes over you, feeling the chubbiness of his girth press hotly against your ribbed walls that catch on his prominent veins there. 

panting lightly, a ripple of desire is the next sensation that you feel, experimentally clenching around the prince below you — bottoming out as your cunt drools down on him. somehow, you find the strength in your thighs to lift your hips and thrust back down, a wet slap bouncing off of all four walls in response. it’s insane how tight, warm and wet you are — how thick, heavy and nagi is, constantly pressed up against your g-spot before you’ve really even moved. you splutter and hiccup as you begin the slow bounce of your hips and allow yourself the grace to accommodate for your sleeping lover’s size, his bright red and possibly overstimulated cockhead nudging feverishly against the pleasure spots that decorate your temperate silken walls. 

“…gods,” comes your shaky voice, trapped behind the prison of your teeth in a weak attempt to hold in your moans. “s-seishiro, f-feel so good…” though you speak to no one in particular, using the sound of your own wailing voice to get yourself, you can feel the white-haired royal underneath you buck upwards as though he wants to fuck you back — driven by tired strings of lust and desire as though he’s a puppet on a set of strings for your own pleasure. collapsing forward, you nestle your head underneath his chin so that the only part of your body moving is your hips working up and down on nagi’s pulsating cock at break-neck speeds. in this position, your murky breaths of exertion coast over his pearlescent skin and your eyes grow misty at the perfect angle. your stream of thrusts are constant like a rushing river, allowing his bulbous leaky tip to barrage into your sex and pull squelching, lewd noises from your poor pussy.

you’re already so sensitive, it’d be a miracle if you last much longer riding your lover like this and to your heart’s content. slumped over him, chewing on your chapped lips to hide the debauched noises that slosh over your tongue and are churned up in your mouth with the drool there. it’s pathetic, really, but your mind is too hazy and high on the drug of ecstasy to care. to pacify yourself and the growing fire that burns the butterflies in your tummy, you switch from bouncing on his fat girth to grinding against it, dancing with your partner in a sensual sticky grind where only you are able to lead. every stroke of his cock within your sluice, pulsating walls makes it harder for you to keep quiet or keep still — the bed creaking beneath the weight of your movement becomes a loud wail and harmonises perfectly with the tune or skin slapping on skin and your pathetic bleats of bliss. 

sweat from the exertion of pounding your mound down on the curve of his cock begins to bead at your hairline, pearling in opaque orbs that form your own halo. one that belongs to a fallen angel. it drips down the side of your face onto the prince below you, another way that you mark him, just as your juices do — droplets of it trailing down his shaft, balls and even his ass. if someone were to walk in now, they’d set their sights on an obscene display of sin, their perfect prince defiled by his knight to be, but you don’t care, your mind and exhausted limbs buzzing with wanton. you’ll use him until cum, claim your prize and work your selfish pussy over him until you know every constellation by heart because of how many times you’ve used seishiro to make yourself see stars.

every sensation overwhelms you, the creamy and tackiness to his cock between your slicked up thighs and the pressure of his purpling cockhead as it digs disgustingly against your g-spot in the most perfect of ways because you clench down on him every now and again. static rings loud in your ears that burn with both shame and lechery for taking advantage of your sleeping lover, the notes from the tune your fat pussy pap-pap-papping as it connects with stitchers of nagi’s bare flesh has a tingling sensation spreading under your skin too. even when he bucks instinctively into you, your entire body jolts in response because there’s no greater relief than knowing that you are yearned for… even within the clutches of unconsciousness.

when nagi whimpers in his sleep, you have to bite his shoulder — keeping your wailing mouth occupied even if you’ll leave teeth marks against him in place. someone could hear the way you beg him to fuck you, muffling yourself as you whisper dirty fantasies to yourself and split your swollen nether lips open on his drippy dick. you’re not sure if that is a good or bad thing to want, to be heard.  “f-fuck me sei… p-please my prince,” everything feels so depraved and so wrong, while you whine sweetly against saltine skin. however, you don’t see yourself stopping — not until you can no longer feel your legs from riding him and your cunt aches from cumming so hard. “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

the back and forth of your sluice sex over nagi’s lap tampers with your system, sending orgasmic shockwaves down your spine and happy hormones into your bloodstream. you alternate, once more peeling your soaked thighs away from his and lift your fluttering entrance higher and higher up his shaft until there’s barely an inch of the white haired royal left inside of you. the emptiness makes you miss him, a choked sob weaving its way like a vine through the gaps in your ribs as it claws its way out of your throat. it’s a shuddering noise that you suppress by locking lips with seishiro again, wet on the seam of them as you lift your head to kiss him. 

“i wanna cum, nagi!”

the words are just about to melt in his mouth but…

…but euphoria is quick to slip into your veins like a welcomed chill on a hot day when nagi suddenly rouses from his slumber — following a natural compulsion to snap his hips upwards with a powerful force and filling you in one fluid motion. he’s awake. one of his hands, extremely strong and veiny and firm takes you by surprise as it clamps down on the back of your neck  so that he can keep you in place too. it was almost as if he was chasing the snugness of your oozing, squelchy mound. an incredulous gasp drifts warmly from your mouth and condenses in nagi’s, for a second you worry that he might push you off and yell for help… but recognition registers on the slope of his handsome features. 

he’s awake…how long has seishiro been awake? 

moonlight lashes flutter against your face from your proximity and murky grey eyes, littered with exhaustion between their flecks, light up with a sprinkling of hearts as then open to look at you. slowly but surely their gaze drifts downwards, honing in on the point at which his milky cock repeatedly disappears into your puffy pussy, the glaze of your essence on his rock hard cock and clinging to his pubes put on display. 

groaning hoarsely and deeply, nagi’s freehand shoots down to the bouncing flesh of your ass without a lick of hesitation and pulls you the rest of the way down his pulsing girth. then up again. then back down — giving him all of the control to pummel your pussy to the high heavens. hard and fast. “i thought… thought you wanted to cum,” the moonlit prince mumbles, voice still puppeteered by the last strings of sleep. “don’t make it a hassle by holding back now… fuck your self down on my cock ‘n cum…”

he’s awake… how much of this has seishiro been awake for? 

nagi builds up a formidable momentum inside of you, dragging his seedy tip along your ravaged walls, shocking for someone who had essentially just woken up from a curse of eternal slumber. he doesn’t seem to mind that you’ve been using him like a toy for your own sexual desires, but how could he? not when you’re dousing him in your sweet nectar, slapping your soaked sex down on him and squeezing his aching shaft just like that. how can a man, no less a prince, whine about waking up to such a good fuck?

all you can do is reply with a high pitched squeal, your body jerking and jolting on top of nagi as you struggle to keep up with thrusts. “come now, don’t make me do all of the work,” white starts to froth at the base of his cock, bubbling up while it streaks over your ruined pussy lips and clit. “after all, you started this… took advantage of me while i slept. s’only fair, angel,” he adds nonchalantly and makes you gush unbelievable amounts of arousal at the condescending air about his words.

he’s awake and now seishiro wants you to cum for him.

you do try your very best to do as nagi says, selfishly squeezing down on him and locking his precum bleeding tip inside your gummy walls, but your hips fumble their rhythm as soon as he looks up at you — sweaty hair splayed out in the sheets like an angel, lips parted in both curiosity and awe, cock bulging in your lower stomach. you’re choking the life out of seishiro and he likes it, feeling like he’s been rewarded for just being a pretty prince. 

all you want is for him to make you scream and squirt — your clit smears against his pelvis while you buck down on him feverishly. he barely lets you lift of his erection at this point. “‘m close… s-seishiro, please! c-can’t…”

it’s the first time you’ve spoken his name directly to him since your love-at-first-sight encounter in the woods and it flips a switch in the peaceful prince of the night. “y-yeah you can, angel. of course you can…” with a breathy, almost whiny moan, seishiro uses his newfound energy to assault your cunt with a barrage of wild thrusts. jackhammering into you, jerking you about on his throbbing length, coated in a milky mix of your shared arousals. “had no problem… fixing yourself on my cock before. ‘m sure you can make yourself cum on it now that i’m here to help,” he adds through gritted teeth, never letting up on his incredible speed. “shouldn’t be a hassle.” 

that’s all you really need to hear before you’re thrown into the deep end, the dark abyss of the night. while the ropes in your tummy unravel and unwind, the tune of sinful sex reaches its final crescendo and the world around you fades away as you’re thrown over the edge and temporarily black out — you practically squirt in an aggressive, clear stream and renders you a cum soaked mess in the prince’s lap. he forces your head into the junction between his neck and jaw, utilising his hold on you to help muffle the scream that burns at the sore edges of your voice as you cum for him. practically drowning nagi in everything you have to give. 

as if chasing something, your lover speeds up his thrusts, trying to make sure he isn’t left behind while you cum for him. growls and grunts spill over his lips, nagi’s pink tongue darting out the flavour you’d left on him as he slept. he buries himself deep inside of you, lunging into that one special spot nestled deep within your walls so that he can prolong your release — working hard even though he was just roused from what seemed like an eternal night.

the aftershocks of your high and heavenly spasms of your hole around nagi simply aren’t enough to satisfy him however — whatever remains of an orgasm he had coming fade away like embers of a dying flame while you come down. in fact, before you can even collapse on the white haired royal fully, he uses a strength you were unaware that he possessed to immediately flip you onto your back — manhandling you into the position he desires most. your thighs pushed together, knees pushed into your chest and him… towering over you menacingly.

only now do you realise how… large seishiro is. how much more dominant he is over you. how it may have been a mistake to think you could steal pleasure from him while he slept as a personal reward and not expect consequence. or at least a consequence you might enjoy too. “such a waste,” he comments groggily, pulling his cream soaked cock from its home within your pretty pussy with a hiss. using one hand, nagi grabs at his ravaged shaft and taps it against the swell of your thighs pushed together. “how can you use me like that…and still fail to make me cum? i’ll have to do it myself. what a bother, angel.”

your breath catches in your throat, indicating your surprise. “seishiro…w-wait,” you plead, lips parting in a quiet moan at every squeeze of your flesh and tug of hips to get your body into place. you don’t even know what you’re asking for or why you’re asking him to stop, you still don’t care about the consequences. all you want is for the sleeping beauty above you to fall apart, to hear your name on the tip of his tongue, to feel him cum wherever that may be. “‘m sorry…i-i didn’t know you were awake!”

“don’t care darlin’,” seishiro’s breathy words hang between the pearliness of his teeth, shaggy hair tickling the skin on your calves as he positions them over his shoulders instead of in the air. “don’t r’member much… just my finger gettin’ pricked ‘n then you… using me. on top of me…” his cock makes a home between your plush thighs, pushing back and forth against the flesh to relieve his painfully hard erection. the action itself paints the canvas of your body with remainders of your arousal and essence — thick stringy globs of white forming tracks against soft skin. “f-fuck angel, you put in all this work to make yourself cum using me… now it’s my turn.” 

eyes that mirror the silver light of the moon flutter shut and nagi’s nose judges against your ankle — lips grazing the pointed bone and in their wake leave a trail of inflamed bites from where he leaves his mark on you, hoping that they’ll be present on the morning to remind you of who you belong to. his pink tongue peeks out to lick, loll over and soorje what he nips at, but the wet sensation doesn’t distract from curious finger tips that dance their way down and pinch your arousal soaked, fat folds together. neediness streams into your tone as you whimper out for more and your hips arch up to chase the feeling. 

in response a lazy grin twitches at the corner of your prince’s mouth, playing with the tackiness your cunt leaves against his hand before he spreads it over his bright red tip as lube. “quit squirming angel, s’too much of a bother to keep you pinned down,” seishiro then adjusts his knees on the bed and his hips begin to brutally rut into you, dragging his sloppy length back and forth, back and forth through the makeshift pocket pussy he’s made out of your quivering limbs. his precum loaded tip prods at the softness of your tummy and earns you a symphony of high pitched moans and heaving pants, harmonised with heavy balls slapping wetly against your clit over and over again. to the point where you fear you may be overcome with another orgasm all too soon.

being used like this, it feels humiliating, shame burns like paper held to a flame underneath the surface of your skin and tears begin to sting in your lower lash line as your entire body jolts up the bed — nagi throwing you about like a rag while he plunges his hips against your doughy thighs. his stamina impresses you too, but you find it hard to dwell on how quickly your lover was able to be riled up after rising from the constraints of an all powerful curse. you don’t mind the aching pulse to your untouched pussy when you get to watch nagi hang over you and hungrily hump your shaky legs — his usually kind eyes are swamped with darkness of lust the back of his pupil practically eclipsing the grey colour. 

his head darkens at the roots from how much he’s sweating, droplets crowning his head and running down his back like water on a glass windowpane. he’s a sight to behold, he makes your holes drool and mouth water, the both of you completely wrecked by a little thigh fucking and humping. between his merciless pace and the creaks from the bed, nagi jams a veiny hand between the sensual bump and grind of your bodies to grasp at his thick, temperate shaft — pulling it down to run through the entire length of your slippery before tapping it greedily against your puffy clit and snack between your thighs.

the sweet squeak you release has the prince repeating his action over and over, blood rushing through the purpling veins that spiral down his chubby cock. you’re the perfect sticky little fleshlight for him to fuck, to hold and love, and he hisses, jutting his hips forward in order to chase the euphoria coursing for his veins like the next best drug — all while he pounds your thighs to the starry heavens and back. 

juicy, wet sounds fill the room to the brim, a concert and performance of moans and whimpers to match and accompany nagi pounding away at your thighs, grinding against your sex. the white haired man leaks copious amounts of precum, milky like his hair and loose from his sore and sensitive rouge tip, that can’t stop weeping, oozing. his arousal makes each of his movements easier and more fluid, slipping and sliding between your legs and just grazing your sobbing mound. this way; you’re reminded of the sheet sheer size of your lover from the woods — be throbs, swollen and fat with an oncoming orgasm, with the seed that weighs down his balls that swing with each rut of his hips.

a hearty sob escapes you each time they press against you, dragging over your clit that begs for attention. the visage of your prince above you — flushed at the cheeks ( if they’ve been kissed by the petals of a rose), white brows knitted together st the centre of his forehead while ruby lined lips appear bitten and bruised  — begins to blur from your saltine tears. you can no longer hold back, raw and rough desire washing away your ability to control your body and your voice.

the way you cry wracks your body with the case of the shakes because of the wild whines resounding from deep within seishiro’s hard chest. each sound makes your cunt quiver, your juices darkening the sheets below and clinging to his snow while pubes, all the while, the prince ravishes you pulling you apart molecule by molecule before he pieces you back together with just a lazy shape drawn against your hardening clit. 

“w-what a waste of tears, i thought you wanted to use me,” nagi stutters out, breath condescending against your ankles. it makes him pulse between your thighs, knowing that he’s the one able to reduce you to a mess of cum and tears — even if you did half the work for him while he slept soundly. the fact that you threaten to break, still holding onto your inhibitions and desperate moans, only serves to make home rut his creamy cock against you faster. “you should give it up angel, m-much less of a hassle if you give into me.”

and with that, seishiro leans down to kiss you, his swiftness akin to a starved man. he manhandles your thighs to sit either side of his unfairly slender waist, granting him the room to swoop down until you’re chest to chest — his wide, large frame hiding your shaky one away from the world underneath him as his teeth sink into your bottom lip. he licks into your mouth as you open up with a shy mewl, devious tongue wrapping itself around your own as he tastes himself there. “thank you for waking me up, angel,” spit slings between your eager mouths, movements a little out of sync and languid since they’re so driven by a raw passion that simmers underneath the sleepy fog clouding the prince’s brain. “wakin’ me up to do this,”

he settles back on his haunches after coming up for air, laughing tiredly at the pout on your lips from the loss of contact. 

but now that you’re spread eagle with your cunt drooling openly on the bed and glistening under the moon’s light — the white haired royal angles his hips just right, shuddering from head to toe as his sex soiled girth slots between your swollen folds perfectly. his bulbous tip peeks out against your clit and he circles it against you, desperate to hear you wail like the wind again. “feels so good against you, s’not fair how good you feel,” he says under his stuttering breath, using a thumb and forefinger to spread your pussy lips apart — groaning at the strings of clear slick that tie them together. ““later on, when i’ve got more energy, i’m going to fuck this pretty hole. make sure i really have my turn.” nagi promises and swallows thickly at the raunchy sight of you, viscous drops of your treacle like nectar running over your slit and down to your puckered asshole.

you’re grateful for his touch, the friction you’re about to receive… but you miss seishiro’s lips and his tongue so deep in your mouth he might as well have been fucking it too. why do you miss those luscious lips? because they keep you quiet, muffle your embarrassingly high moans and withering screams of pleasure, cover up your glass shattering cries that accompany your teary face. he’s so heavy and raw against you, grinding his shaft that shoots tiny spirts of precum onto your cunt while you match his rhythm — it’s a wonder why you’re crying right now. not to mention the rounds of overstimulation he’s put you through. 

“you were so quiet before, angel, what happened?” a condescending tone fills out the weight in nagi’s voice, punctuated by the harsh lunges of his hips forwards as he smothers his girth in the juicy offerings from your folds. part of the prince wants to selfishly keep you writhing against his hot and heavy dick for all of eternity, adoring the way you bleat and cry for him through bleary Bambi eyes. hes sure you wouldn’t mind it either, but he’s too far gone to keep edging you both forever. “does it feel that good? so fucking good that you can’t help but whine and whimper for me… s’too much of hassle to hold back, angel. go one, cry pretty f’me, pretty girl…”

you burst into tears, letting your emotions overwhelm you. “feels so, so good, my prince,” you slur back as that familiar twinge of pleasure begins to rapidly mount within your tummy once more — throwing an avid, heated look his way. “s-sei, ‘m close,” one of your shaky hands take purchase in the silvery roots of his hair while the other grasps him shoulder so that you have the leverage to grind into him — rocking your hips in a fluid motion like a boat on rapid waves. sanity slips away from you under nagi, his energy completely unmatched as you struggle to keep up with his pace. the way he chases your sweltering, souse sex with the speed of the kingdom’s finest race horse. he pushes forward when you pull back and it goes both ways — one moment can’t happen without the other. 

nagi simpers above you, smirking lazily as he pushes back the sweaty snowy white roots of his hair — drinking in the sight of you. “that so? you’re close? wanna feel it’s, s’too much effort to have you hold it…not when you sound so wet…” both of you move with increased vigour the closer you get to cloud nine, seishiro cooing to you like over the crude sound of your sexes slipping over each other. “…y’should be embarrassed, yanno,” he presses against you, whimpering happily at the feeling of your breasts bouncing against his chest with each thrust, his breath hot against the tips of your ears and weakly grinds against you clit now — his own orgasm on the horizon.  “taking advantage of me like that. using me. s’naughty princess. such a hassle.” 

he tucks his face against your neck, teeth grazing over the skin while he listens out for your hiccuped sobs and heaving chest — you’re so loud when you’re close and it pleases nagi. he can’t stop tapping your clit and nipping at your flesh — desperate to hear how much louder you can get without holding back. a gargled gasp from you has his cock twitching and threatening to burst with release, while the condescending gripes that vibrate in his chest shoot straight to you’re swollen clit. 

listening to you cry and settling his greyed gaze on your puffy eyes is more than enough for nagi to cum, the string of his own sanity snapping as you scream for him. “you look like you’re about to cum, angel,” he purrs lowly, panting between each word. “mmmh, don’t you think i deserve to go first? fuuuuck i’m close…so close. do you want it inside? i won’t ruin the bed that way… wont need to clean it up…” seishiro rambles over the spit pooling pathetically on his tongue, bucking faster and harder against your slippery cunt with each syllable he manages to get out. “…wanna put it inside you as you cum.” 

you barely have it in you to respond and you can hardly make sense of it all, brain running a mile a minute. the feeling of your orgasm twists in your lower stomach, stacking painfully in your pelvis at a rapid pace you can’t even comprehend. “yes…! want it inside, gods yes!” you sigh out, voice rising several octaves. “want you inside!”

though it’s entirely selfish of you to make demands in the moment, after how you so sinfully used the sleeping prince as your prize — nagi relents, slipping the delicious curve of his cock past your puckered, fluttering entrance just as he reaches his peak. it makes him shake as though the gods have stepped down from the heavens and set foot on earth and he really can’t help it, how much he cums. there's so much of it, white hot seed that spews into you hotly, so pent up from all the pleasure you’d given him while he slept. his heavy load pulses against your sensitive, ribbed walls and sticks — lubing up your insides while he pushes his milky cock deeper into your bare cunt. 

“f-fuck!” the white haired prince curses loud enough to rouse his loyal subjects within a ten mile radius with one final swing of his hips. “f-fuck angel… gods!”  strings of opaque seed tie the veins on his shaft to your precious hole and as he twitches with the last spurts of his orgasm — your own high is triggered.

white flashes behind your eyes and the dam breaks for the third and final time — your release trickles out of you in small waves and you let out a borderline pornographic moan. nagi hums happily at the feeling of you squirting around him, Essen e clinging to his pubic hair too. 

for a second or two, seishiro relishes in the way you convulse around him, giving you a moment to calm down while he pacifies your high pitched squeals with gentle kisses along the side of your head. you’re still quivering when he collapses on top of you exhausted — neither of you having the capacity to speak properly. “d-don’t move… jus’ lay here with me,” he murmurs, tripping on his words. “‘m tired… don’t wanna move,”

you hardly have the strength to deny seishiro or push him off, snuggling into him as the pair of you roll onto your sides. “you’re tired… you almost slept for an eternity!” a laugh escapes you in reply.

“and guess who woke me up and made me work to cum. s’on you not me. fair is fair.” nagi quips back, burying his face into your neck.

you suppose that he has a point, nuzzling him from below as the two of you drift off without the fear of never waking up, of succumbing to lifelong sleep  — content, happy and fucked out by your sleeping beauty.

the end.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[breelandwalker]

Magical Oil Recipes - Protection and Warding Edition

For anyone looking to brew up some magical protections or enhance their current warding measures, here are some recipes I’ve created that you might find useful.

To prepare them, blend the ingredients in such proportions as feels correct for your purposes (or as supplies allow). Use dried material except where indicated. Place a few spoonfuls in a mason jar with a screwtop lid and fill the jar with a bland oil of your choice. (Vegetable oil of the sort you would buy for cooking works fine.) Screw the lid on tightly and shake well to combine, then leave the jar in a dark dry place for 2-4 weeks to steep.

Once steeped, prepare a clean storage bottle (also with a secure lid) and label with the type of oil and the bottling date. Strain the oil through paper towels or cheesecloth to remove the plant material, then bottle immediately. Store away from sunlight and heat for up to one year. Use for spellwork as you see fit.

(Please note that NONE of these potions are meant to be taken internally by any means. Observe all proper safety measures related to glass, fire, and potentially harmful plants as necessary during preparation.)

*- Ingredient is potentially harmful if inhaled or ingested. **- Ingredient should not be used or handled if you are pregnant or nursing.

All-Purpose Blessing Oil For blessing, purification, and consecration.

Lavender

Sweet Basil

Bay Leaf

Patchouli Note: Use Olive Oil for the base.

All-Purpose Hexbreaking Oil For general negation of baneful spells cast by oneself or others.

Agrimony**

Cinquefoil

Fennel

Vervain

Solomon's Seal Root in master bottle

And Stay Out Ward Refresher Oil For strengthening household protections between castings.

Sarsaparilla

Oakmoss

Horehound

Sweet Basil

Banned From The Premises Banishing Oil For anointing doorways and banishing unwanted persons.

Oregano

Rosemary

Lemon Peel

Thyme

Blue Moon Curse Reversal Oil For turning and countering baneful magic.

Angelica Root

Lemon Verbena

Motherwort**

Elderberries*

Change the Locks Protection Oil For protection of the home from banished persons.

Cumin

Oregano

Rosemary

Thistle

Cradlekeeper Child Protection Oil For protection of infants and young children.

Daisies (any color)

Flax Seeds

Caraway Seeds

Lamb's Ear Leaf Note: Use to anoint the lintel of the door to the child's room.

No Soliciting Front Door Oil To keep unwanted visitors away from your home.

Ivy Leaves

Sweet Basil

Blueberry Leaf

Juniper Berries Note: Apply to your front door or threshold.

Safe Space Protection Oil To help one find sanctuary when it is most needed.

Blackberry Leaf (or Tea)

Allspice Berries

Fennel Tops

Clover Leaves and Blossoms

The Shielding Light Protection Oil For passive protective magics.

Caraway Seeds

Eucalyptus Leaf**

Lavender

Vervain Note: Passive protection magic functions as a shield, rebuffing or neutralizing harm. It is good for long-term spells that don't require much energy or maintenance.

The Shining Dark Protection Oil For active protective magics.

Coconut Husk

Thistle Leaf

Witch Hazel**

Angelica Root Note: Active protection magic functions as a sword, strongly deflecting or fending off harm. This is best for short-term or immediate-use spells that are not meant to last, but must kick in very strongly and very quickly. Excellent for emergency personal protections.

The Sorcerer's Tower Protection Oil To protect your witchy supplies and workspace from interlopers.

Juniper Sprigs or Berries

Blueberry Leaf

Thistle

Astragalus Root Note: Works best alongside mundane secrecy and privacy measures. To avoid damage, anoint containers, furniture, and doors rather than items. Do not use directly on books as it may damage delicate paper or covers. Use with caution on unfinished wood.

Thorn in the Door Warding Oil To discourage unfriendly witches from entering your home.

Rosemary

Bay Leaf

Sage (any color)

Solomon's Seal Root

Rose Stem (with thorns) in master bottle

Walking Ward Protection Oil For personal warding spells of all kinds.

Sweet Basil

Witch Hazel**

Fennel Sprigs Note: This works for both active and passive protection magics and may be used in conjunction other protective oils.

Wanderlust Traveling Oil For all-purpose protection and luck while traveling.

Feverfew

Cinquefoil

Witch Hazel**

Spearmint

Should the reader require supplies, I recommend the following:

Penn Herb Company

Starwest Botanicals

Bulk Apothecary

Mountain Rose Herbs

Specialty Bottle

Photo Credit - Shaiith

All recipes are © 2017 Bree NicGarran, published in Pestlework: A Book of Magical Powders & Oils. Please check out the book if you would like more recipes.

If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar, tune in to my podcast Hex Positive, or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop.

[dumbkiri]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒 7

χα∂єη яισяѕση χ ƒ! мαιяι! яєα∂єя

ρℓσт: you awake from your slumber along with Lenin with more of an understanding of your background. mating bonds are difficult to walk around.

12 pgs, 4.2k words

“Lenin, how is your transformation going?”

You haven’t spoken in months to anyone because of your slumber. But you always remained speaking to Lenin through your dreams. After seeing your death in the eyes of your sisters, the witches, you were allowed to communicate with Lenin in your dreams like breathing came to you naturally. 

Your signet developed into something your sisters called ‘manipulation of pure magic’. You were able to channel your own source of power by funneling it into Lenin, with his permission of course. 

Yet that came at a cost. 

When Lenin chose you as his rider that is when your power began to surge in pulses. Uncontained and powerful. 

“Since the beginning, I always knew there was something special about you, Dagger.” 

He told you this when you began to learn about your history. Then your sisters explained that Lenin chose to hide your true nature, your power, because he knew what you were capable of. The ability to be an infinite source for the wards, like the humans thought your sisters could be. 

Hours passed with you staring at a drawing of your dragon on the wall. His dark wings spread out on the sheet with hints of blue running down the membrane, Lenin’s spine dotted with smooth bumps speckled in blue then blending into a pitch black surrounding the rest of his body. 

A feeling of sadness seeped into your body thinking about the vision. Your burned belongings when you die. This piece of paper was going to be the last form of his original look. And they were going to burn it. Only those now will remember how Lenin used to look with his beautifully midnight blue scales, a lethal combination of Sgaeyl and Tairn. 

“I look nothing like my parents, Dagger,” Lenin admitted with shame, “All of them look at me like I’m cursed, but Andarna. She’s enamored with my new color.” 

“Color?” You asked quizzically, holding yourself up with your arm, “I thought only your size changed. What color are you now?”

“Come see me,” He huffed, “I don’t think I can do you justice by telling you the color. Everything about me has changed except for my thoughts. I am still me.”

“Is that what you try telling your parents?” You could feel him radiate his emotions a bit more strongly now after you slept for months. His apprehension of his change before it actually happened thwarted your resolve in your own slumber,  but he reassured you that this is something he will get used to. The covenant explained that not only does Lenin channel his magic through you, you channel a deeper, stronger magic into him. Hence his new change of appearance. And other things like your signet being able to do a lot more. Changes made to become who you were meant to be later on, The Maiden of the Moon.  

When he didn’t answer, it gave you the information you needed. His parents do not take lightly that he changed color because of your magic. 

“I’ll be there.”  

You removed the layers of blankets off your body and gradually you became accustomed to moving your limbs. Months of sleeping did not do your usually strong body justice, but your mind never faltered. You can train when you get better, during the calm before the storm. 

Storm. 

Speaking of the weather, General Sorrengail and the other higher ups will be here for the Reunification Day. A day you dreaded ever since the killing of your parents, well…foster parents. The scars on Xaden’s back to account for all the children of the traitorous reminded you that he had the heaviest burden to carry. 

And you were not going to be one of them. He had too much to worry about and you didn’t want to be a problem for him. 

Perhaps you should make an early visit to his room? You knew he wanted to know what happened to you. The reason why you slept so long remained a mystery to him. Not even Sgaeyl knew what was going on with her son. She only knew of the changes to her son’s appearance and his slumber that followed after yours. 

You dressed in your uniform accompanied with your flight jacket. It’s been awhile since you flew on the back of Lenin and you missed the feeling of it all. If Sgaeyl and Xaden wanted to, you four can resume the early morning flights starting with this one explaining what happened to you and Lenin. Why everything was changing in a span of months…why everything after your death will be different. 

Walking felt a bit weird, your steps much lighter and your mind calmer. Yes, you spent months with your sister witches learning about your past. How you are one of the last witches with the ability to manipulate pure magic. Unlike the venin who take power from the earth, you are allowed to be attuned with it especially with the help from Leninach. 

He was the reason why you haven’t been going berserk before. He funneled the massive amount of magic from you into him then slowly back into you. Your output was much faster at a large rate and he was able to give it back to you at a consistent and small amount. 

But you possessed too much for him now. So your sisters gave you a solution. 

……

“I don’t understand,” You rubbed your temple with your fingers in small circles, “You’re saying my dragon can be my stable connection to my original power?” 

“Well yes,” Alani smiled, her dark curly hair reaching her hips with a sway. 

Then Rema spoke up with her arms crossed over her chest. Her colorless lips smacked with an attitude,  “Your dragon possesses much of your power now. He’s in his own slumber trying to control it. Seriously, how do you not know this?”

“She’s been in the dark, Rema,” Alani whined in your defense. 

“And we need you to come into the light,” Sera joined in on the conversation. Her bright green eyes flicked over to your hands which were painted in blood. Your blood after you held your own body as Xaden, who cradled your face in his neck. 

“What will happen to Lenin if he agrees to be my connection?” You asked, looking down at Xaden crying into your hair, whispering his begs for you to come back to him. His tears fell like the rain, harsh and unstoppable. 

“He becomes you and you become him,” Sera said this like it should have been obvious. But your mind was still reeling with questions. Yet she gave you a look that said, all in due time. She kneeled down next to the image of you and Xaden, her green eyes watching Xaden’s reaction to your heart slowing down. 

“This man loves you deeply, sister.”

Alani knelt down beside the older one and nodded her head ecstatically, “Oh yes, he does. The shadows all around him weep with him. The despair is all too heavy for him.”

Rema stood behind her sisters watching the scene unfold. While you tried your best not to cry with Xaden. You explained to them that Xaden is very important to you. Then you asked with complete interest, a twinge of familiarity in your bones,

“You guys can feel how he feels?” 

Alani nodded her head and reached out to Xaden. Her pale hand touched his cheek and she wiped away his tears that hadn’t stopped falling. She frowned at her poor attempt to help him and said, “Witches are attuned with everything around them. From the magic, to life and death, to the emotions clouding the judgement of others. If we try hard enough, we can hear certain thoughts too. It takes time and practice for it, but we’ll teach you. I normally don’t like looking into someone’s mind though. You can accidentally find something terrible.” 

A warning.

Alani looked up into your eyes and you knew you were right. She was warning you. 

“But searching through someone’s mind might help you in the long run,” Rema said. She uncrossed her arms and stepped over to you, “Like searching through a certain higher up’s mind can help you look for us.” 

“Although we need your dragon to help you,” Sera never moved her eyes away from Xaden, “and we need his help too. He becomes much more important later on. Leninach balances you and you will balance Xaden Riorson. It’s a complete triangle.”

“Okay,” You said breathlessly, “I need the full story. Why are we being hunted? Where are you guys?”

Rema and Alani both looked over at Sera, their eyes drawn to hers. Then Sera stood up, brushing her white flowy dress with her dainty hands. 

“Because the humans have figured out that we can power the wards. So they locked us up into a deep sleep and chained us to those wards. Most of our other sisters have died because while we can channel a great amount of power, we need our stable connection. All of us were fliers and when we asked Fen Riorson to help us…”

Sera faltered. Her expression is grim remembering the event of asking for help. 

“We gave him to you for safety precautions,” Rema began with a different starting point. 

“You were just a baby and the Mairis were the first ones to step up in raising you. [Name] you were meant to be a flier like the rest of us, but in order to save you from becoming like us, chained to a rock. We gave you up to the riders in hopes that you’ll save us later on and break us from the bonds that hold us. You are stronger than the rest of us. You can do anything.”

Alani jumped up and said, “Your death isn’t an ending, little one. It’s an awakening to your true power. You’ll be able to control it more and your dragon is your stable connection. Our gryphons were the stable connection, but after we were captured…we were forced to break the bond. We did it to save them despite their protests.” 

Witches have the power to break a bond. It sounds like they have the power to do anything. You couldn’t imagine doing such a thing to Lenin, but you would do it to save him from being chained with you to a ward. 

“How are you guys reaching out to me now?” 

Rema smacked her forehead with her palm in exasperation, “Little one, listen! We know you, you are our little sister. The youngest one in our covenant, alright? What kind of big sisters would we be if we didn’t protect or know where you are at all times? We’re the ones who gave you those daggers and I’m a tad bit upset you gave mine to that Sorrengail. It should have gone to Sloane.” 

“Violet earned it,” You bit back, defensive for your student-friend…person, “plus it was purple! Her name is Violet so it’s not that bad. I was being nice to her for once!”

Rema rolled her eyes and smacked her lips, “Had to let you know that, but that’s not the point. The point is we can only reach you in your dreams. This isn’t your doing, it’s ours. All three of us have reached out to one another then found you in Basgiath War College, specifically the Riders Quadrant. That’s when we knew your awakening was going to happen soon.” 

“Yep!” Alani pipped with a smile, “We almost thought you would have awoken in your first year! You had so many near death experiences, little one!” 

“Tell me about it,” You rolled your eyes and this earned chuckles from the trio. So far they’re not entirely emotionless. 

Then Sera spoke up, “Threshing had us holding our breaths. We couldn’t help ourselves, but provide you with some aid. Alani came up with the idea to blind them all by using the fog.”

The imagery around you changed. Xaden was no longer by your feet cradling your limp body. No, instead your sisters transported you to your Threshing. 

The fog around you as you walked with Rema’s dagger in your hand seemed natural. Until it didn’t when the first person attacked you from behind. It’s always so weird watching your past and your future in this way. 

“I knew something was weird about the fog, it became so dense in a matter of seconds,” You always knew you were an outstanding fighter. Everyone told you so, but it was different watching it yourself. The way you moved in the thickness of the fog with fluid moves. Rema’s dagger ends the lives around you with a bright purple glow. 

“You made Rema very proud by the way!” Alani giggled. 

“It’s our little sister kicking major ass with my dagger,” Rema countered with a smug smirk, “How could I not feel a sense of pride. I gotta hand it to Fen Riorson’s son for teaching you some moves. But we witches have the instinct to kill. Our eyes,” She points to her glowing golden ones, “can see so much better than humans. Then we can hear their thoughts which allows us to know their next moves before they make them.” 

You gawked then whispered, “That possessed feeling I had while killing Lara and her friends, that was my instinct to kill. The witch in me. It makes so much sense why I felt so powerful when Lenin finished Lara off. That was my initiation to my true power, my instinct to become what I was meant to be.”

Sera nodded in confirmation, “And when he agrees to become your stable connection, you two will be an unstoppable force. Lenin and [Name], Cloak and Dagger.” She slides her hands high in the air, the scenery changing once more. You can see the Riorson House before it fell and memories begin to flood into your mind. 

“Now then we should dive into the pact we made with Fen Riorson.”

Sera looked at you and said, “The same pact you will make with his son when all of this is over.” 

……

You did not realize how long you stood outside of Xaden’s room while you recounted your time with your sisters. Must have been awhile because Lenin snapped you out by asking you if you were going to knock or not. 

You blinked a couple of times, your “new” eyes scanning his door and you could actually see the magic that protected his room. Witches' eyes come pretty handy when you need it the most. But you already knew his room was protected. Much like yours and Violet’s. 

His warded room felt easy to penetrate and to do so allowed you to know if he was alone. You don’t think you’re up to talk to Garrick, Bodhi, Liam or Imogen. All you wanted to do was speak with Xaden and have him by your side while you explained your history. 

“You can accidentally find something terrible.”

Alani’s kind and warning voice stopped you from using your power. Your eyes went back to their normal blue and you knocked on his door twice with consistent pressure. Five beats of silence went by then his door clicked with the lock opening. 

“What is it now- [Name]?” Xaden looked down at you with surprise, and you looked up at him with a shy wave. 

“Hi.” 

You have no idea why you are acting shy all of  a sudden. 

“He loves you deeply, sister.” 

Now Sera’s voice was invading your mind and a blush creeped its way onto your cheeks. You wish you brought Alani’s dagger with you, the pink blade would have allowed you to fidget with something as you come up with a response. 

Xaden looked back into his room then closed the door behind him with a gentle swing of it. Then he looked back at you and his eyes softened in a way you haven’t seen it before. 

Regret. 

This feeling smacked into you like a train along with the other ones swarming in his chest and stomach; shame and guilt. You tried not to think about it too much and you went on to explain your presence. 

“I wanted to speak to you. I know I have been sleeping for a very long time now, but I think I know almost everything about me. About my signet and I want to explain to Sgaeyl too. With all that’s going on with Lenin. If I could just-” 

His door opened up behind him and a tired voice spoke behind the door as it slowly opened, “Xaden, what are you-” 

Your words died out in your throat and you moved to the side to catch a glimpse of silver. The way your heart dropped to the pit in your stomach almost had you stumbling back.  

“Breathe, Dagger,” Lenin hummed, his voice being the only thing grounding you right now, “Shadow can explain to you and you have to understand.” 

“Understand, what?” You bit back, the hurt in your voice evident. 

Violet Sorrengail. Xaden Riorson. You looked at the state of them. In your enamor, you didn’t notice the marks on his neck that he tried hiding. Or his swollen lips. Lips that kissed you with a desire so real, you thought he only could share with you. 

Yet there she stands wearing one of his shirts with her hair down. Violet looked beautiful. Xaden looked like he wanted to hide in his shadows. 

No one said a word. Either they were communicating with one another or they were truly speechless like you. Swallowing the rock in your throat, you zipped up your jacket and stuffed your hands in your pocket. 

Then you laughed awkwardly, “Uhm, so I just woke up from my coma. And Lenin has changed, appearance-wise. I just wanted a word with you, but you seemed very occupied. We can talk some other time.” 

“Let him explain,” Lenin warned you, so you complied. You forced your feet to stay planted and you can hear Sgaeyl speaking to Xaden in a threatening voice. But you didn’t dive further into his mind. 

“It’s the mating bond, [Name],” Xaden spoke slowly, hoping his words wouldn’t push you away. They didn’t, but they also did not help your aching heart. “Sgaeyl and Tairn haven’t had sex in a long time. In months. So when Lenin awoke and they knew he was okay, their feelings came in strong.” 

“So everytime they fuck, you two will have some fun too?” 

You couldn’t help the instant question, the hurt mixing in with your anger. Xaden knew you only lashed out because of this hurt. It pained him to see you like this. To find out this way. 

“No,” He said, “it’s happened before, yes. But we try not to let their feelings-” 

“That’s all I need to know, Xaden,” You said truthfully, looking away from him and ignoring the look on Violet’s face. The burning in your eyes and the swelling in your throat pained you, the heartbreak real enough to wish for something out loud. Stumping Violet and crushing Xaden. 

“My death cannot come soon enough.” 

Your bitter words angered your dragon and you blocked him out instantly. Lenin’s words of advice to hearing Xaden out did not help you in the long run. It only made you want to hurt him back. Before you could walk away, Xaden grabbed your wrist and tugged your hand out of your pocket. 

“Take it back.” 

He deepened his voice into a threat then used his other hand to force you to look up at him. You can see how your words affected him, but his actions disappointed you. His fingers dug into your jaw forcing you to lock eyes with his own. 

“You don’t mean that, [Name]. I know you don’t.” 

Of course, you didn’t. Did he have to know that? No. 

“It’s not hard to put your shields up, is it?” You asked, with tears clouding your vision, “You have no excuse, Riorson. I can forgive Violet for fucking my boyfriend. But I cannot forgive my boyfriend for letting his shields down to let himself indulge in a mating bond that isn’t his. Now let me go.”

“If I let you go, you won’t come back,” He whispered, your words wishing for your death damaged his heart. 

“You already did when you held her.” 

You raised your arms up and slammed them onto his forearms, his release on you didn’t come easily. Nonetheless you walked away with the tears finally falling down your face. It’s not fair. None of this is. 

Quickly, you cloaked yourself and hid from everyone as much as you could the entire day. Your mind was blocked out from your dragon for hours and you ignored his angry roars outside that demanded your attention. 

Until it was flight lessons time. 

When you walked out with your cloak down, Imogen looked at you wearily as she stood next to Glane with her arms crossed. No dragon or human came close to standing next to Lenin whose throat bubbled up with a daunting growl. 

Everyone knew that Lenin was pissed and you weren’t doing any better. Yet you opened the side of your bond and let’s just say you will never, ever close Lenin off again. 

“How dare you close me off!”

He leaned his head down to the floor and roared at you, the force of it making your unzipped flight jacket flutter in his rage. 

“After everything I sacrificed for you!” Lenin snapped his jaws in your direction, “I changed for you!” 

“You think I wanted this for you!” 

You angrily gestured to his white patchy scales that dotted his normal midnight blue color. You can understand why every dragon looked at him differently now. One of his eyes was different too, colored lilac while the other one remained golden. 

He slammed his wings onto the floor, dust rising up in clouds of fury. Everyone looked in your direction, but you or Lenin did not mind. Too engaged in the heated argument between one another. 

“Lenin, this should be my burden to carry. Not yours, it never should have been yours!” 

“Yet here I stand,” He snapped again, “carrying the weight with you.”

You bit your lip, heavy thoughts clouding your mind. Why are you punishing Lenin for making you listen to the truth? He’s always been there for you, listening to you and supporting you. 

“-you two will be an unstoppable force. Lenin and [Name]. Cloak and Dagger.” 

Again, the reasonable voice, Sera spoke inside your mind. Reminding you that Lenin is your stable connection to your power. Then you felt a warm breath lingering over you and a heavy push making you stumble back a few steps. 

Lenin’s growls lowered in pitch and turned into a hum and you jumped onto his snout, giving him an apology. You missed his comforting warmth. 

“Lenin, I am so sorry. I know you are doing a lot for me. And you said that these changes to your body are different, but your mind is still the same. I-I cannot say the same myself. All these thoughts, knowing what’s going to happen to me.” 

“We can change your fate, Dagger,” Lenin chuffed, “You are a powerful witch. You can change the tides in any battle the way you see fit. And I will do anything to save you, to keep you as my rider.”

His promise melted your sad thoughts and you looked up, noticing that your arms don’t usually hug him like normal. Then you hopped off of him seeing him in his patchy glory,

“You’re bigger than your father, Lenin.” 

“Now you notice.” 

You can feel the sarcasm radiating off his body. But you let it pass with a goofy smile on your face. 

“Was sure that Lenin had thoughts of eating you,” Imogen walked up to you cautiously, her dragon following behind her with her head down. As a show of respect for Lenin. 

You forgot that Glane and Lenin were involved in some moments which influenced you and Imogen your first year. Now the guilt for blaming Xaden haunted you. Although you two weren’t exclusive your first year. Plus Lenin and Glane haven’t formed a mating bond yet. 

“With all his anger, you’d think he would have stormed the college,” You joked back with her and Imogen finally engulfed you in a hug. She squeezed you tightly and said, “Damn, I’ve missed you. I’m also happy that Lenin is awake, Glane was nonstop worried about him.” 

Glane snapped her neck down, puffing out her chest in a defensive way while Lenin…was that some kind of purr? He let out a noise that sounded like amusement, but you can feel him more now. It was…

“Lenin, you’re in love with Glane?” You asked, curiosity close to killing you. 

“Say that out loud and I will eat you.” 

You nervously laughed and nodded your head, “What does she think of his new color? And size?” 

Imogen knew what you were getting at and she couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Yeah, you were screwed once flight lessons started. 

……

“I heard [Name] fell off her dragon’s back seven times during flight lessons.” 

“Maybe her coma affected her.” 

“Could be, but she told the menders she was okay when they visited her.” 

“Her dragon is definitely paying her back for something then.” 

……

^^ this is how MC be spinning her knife btw

ησтє: don't worry everyone! y'all decided, Xaden will be the ONE AND ONLY ONE FOR MC. however I had to make things a bit complicated with them. I am a sucker for angst before fluff.

and yes, I'm making you a witch, a baby witch with slow understanding of your powers but you got a covenant of sisters helping you. fun!

Lenin's in looovvveeeeeeee

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬: @luvly-writer @blueeclipsepaperstudent @honethatty12 @poeticbookwormcat @cheappremingerfromdelululand @eep500 @littlepippilongstocking @86laura11 @lxnvmvrzx @what-will-be-your-verse @sheblogs @fangirling-galore @callsigns-haze @side-angel @faeofthemoonandstars @jesschalamet @abysshaven @bisexualbitchsgotass @books-hlmc @r0sluvs @galaxystern08 @bwormie @littleemissperfecttt @lagrandeourse @steph-fowlie

[velarisdusk]

Cursed Flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

word count: 8k content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, rough sex, oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), biting, oral fixation, enemies to lovers (as much lovers as I could fit into an 8k fic) | mentions of: blood, attempted murder via witch curse | strong language ] summary: When Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, stumbles into a healer's shop under a mysterious curse, it sets off a chain of events neither could have anticipated. As the skilled healer works to unravel the dark magic threatening his life, tension and attraction crackle between them. author's note: SO EXCITED FOR YALL TO READ THIS ONE!!!!!!! i received this ask a bit ago and i couldn't wait to write it. i hope you all enjoy! as per usual, no beta, so if you see any typos no you didnt ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

The shop is a warm refuge in the heart of the Autumn Court, its walls painted a calming sage green and lined with shelves filled with jars of dried herbs and roots. Sunlight filters through the tall windows, casting soft, golden light on a thick, woven rug. The scent of lavender and rosemary lingers in the air, mingling with the quiet crackle of a low fire in the hearth.

You move methodically around the shop, stocking freshly dried herbs on the shelves. Your fingers brush over the labels, ensuring everything is in its place. The rhythmic work is soothing—a welcome distraction.

Reaching up to place a jar on the top shelf, you're caught off guard when the door suddenly slams open. The force of it startles you, and you instinctively drop the pendant of your necklace from your mouth as you spin around to face the intruder.

Eris Vanserra stands in the doorway, his usually pristine appearance disheveled, his skin pale and lips tinged with an unhealthy shade of blue. He looks unwell — like something is gnawing away at him from the inside out.

“Looking a little paler than usual,” you murmur, your tone caught between concern and the dry sarcasm that usually colors your interactions with him. But even as you speak, you’re already moving toward him, instinctively assessing his condition. Grabbing your tools, you hurry to where Eris has collapsed into the armchair by the hearth.

“What happened?” you ask, scanning him for visible injuries but finding none. “When did this start?”

Eris leans back, his breathing labored, and then he coughs violently, a splatter of blood staining his hand. He looks at it with shock and frustration.

“Tell me everything,” you demand, already rifling through your supplies for anything that could help diagnose whatever this is. “What did you eat? Drink? Did you come into contact with anything unusual?”

His eyes narrow in irritation as you continue to probe. “Why does it matter? Just heal me and I’ll be on my way.”

You give him an incredulous look, stunned by the sheer stupidity of his question. 

“What…? Mother above- if you want me to help, I need to know what’s causing this. Did you encounter any dark magic?”

You move to check his pulse, frowning at the erratic rhythm and his lack of response. “If you’re going to be like that, just go to your family’s healer,” you mutter, not bothering to hide your irritation. You place the back of your hand on his forehead, noting the strange combination of cool skin and unnatural heat radiating from his chest.

“Do you think I’m here because I’d like to be?” Eris snaps, coughing again, though this time with less blood.

You ignore his tone, turning your attention to the herbs and ingredients at your disposal. After a few minutes of methodically preparing and steeping the herbs, you hand him a steaming cup. “Drink this,” you instruct.

He takes the cup but eyed it skeptically. “What is it?”

“It’ll react if there’s poison in your system,” you explain, your tone firm as you watch him closely, waiting. 

He lifts the cup reluctantly, sipping as you hover your hands over his chest, closing your eyes to focus on sensing any magical disturbances. “Why can’t you see your family’s healer?” you ask, murmuring a chant under your breath as you work.

“He’s busy,” Eris replies tightly, though his expression suggests there’s more to the story.

You press your lips together as you complete your chant, waiting for any sign of magic—an aura, a pulse of energy, anything. But there’s nothing. Frustration wells up, and you move to the shelves, selecting a vial of a potent potion that reveals the presence of dark spells. You hand it to him, but before you can tell him to wait, he lifts the vial to his lips. 

“Wait—” you start, but it’s too late. He drinks the contents of the vial, grimacing at the taste as he swallows. 

The dark tendrils of the potion begin to swirl beneath his skin, their movement barely noticeable through the fabric of his shirt. Panic surges through you, and without thinking, you reach forward and rip open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere. 

Eris recoils slightly, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “Do you have any idea how much that shirt costs? More than you make in a month, I’d wager.”

You shoot him a sharp glare, not bothering to hide your exasperation. “Definitely not as much as making that potion cost me,” you retort, focusing on the dark tendrils now clearly visible beneath his skin. The potion is reacting to something, though it’s still not enough to fully reveal what’s wrong. 

Eris glares at you, but before he can respond, another wave of pain hits him, forcing a troubling series of coughs out of him. This time, blood stains his lips, and the dark tendrils pulse ominously with the movement. 

Ignoring his earlier complaint, you press your hand against his chest, feeling the unnatural heat beneath your fingertips. The tendrils shift and twist just beneath the surface of his skin as if something dark is trying to break free. “Are you usually this hot?” you murmur, more to yourself than to him, as you watch the tendrils fade back into nothingness.

Eris’s lips curve into a smirk, despite his condition. “I wasn’t aware you found me so irresistible,” he drawls, his tone laced with that familiar cocky arrogance.

You roll your eyes, not even dignifying his comment with a response, refocusing on the task at hand.

With a sigh, you grab the vial from him and set it aside, biting your thumbnail as you wrack your brain for ideas. You decide to turn to a more traditional method. “Stand up,” you instruct, grabbing a fresh egg from a small basket. Eris raises an eyebrow, but you don’t give him a chance to question it. “I’m going to perform an egg cleanse. It’s an old method, but it’s effective for detecting curses.”

He complies, albeit reluctantly, standing from the chair. You glance up at him, realizing you can’t quite reach the top of his head. “Bend your knees a bit. I can’t reach that high.”

Eris smirks, but obliges, lowering himself slightly so you can reach the crown of his head. You begin by holding the egg just above his scalp, moving it slowly around the top of his head and down his neck. You notice his jaw clench, the muscles tightening under your careful movements. 

You continue to work your way down, the egg warming slightly in your hand as it absorbs the negative energy. The air feels thick with tension as you move the egg over his shoulders and bare chest, noticing how he tenses when you pass it over his thighs. His body reacts subtly, with a slight shift in posture, a clenching of his fist at his side, as if he’s fighting to keep his composure. 

“Anything yet?” Eris presses, his tone light, almost as if he’s making conversation, but you can hear the underlying tension. “Or are you just playing with eggs for fun?”

“Hold still,” you mutter, ignoring his jab as you complete the cleanse. When you reach his feet, you pause, feeling the unsettling energy still clinging to the egg in your hand. You ask him to lift each foot slightly so you can pass the egg underneath. He does so with a small huff of annoyance, muttering something you couldn’t bother yourself to care about. 

Finally, you finish the cleanse, bringing the egg back up to his head and closing the circle. The egg feels heavier in your hand now, almost throbbing with the energy it’s absorbed. You step back, holding the egg up to the light, examining it carefully. 

“What are you seeing?” he asks, his voice steady, but you catch the edge of something beneath the calm facade. “What’s wrong?”

With a frown, you walk to the counter, grab a glass, and fill it with water. Eris watches you, curiosity and impatience on his face as you crack the egg into the glass.

The moment the shell breaks, your breath catches in your throat as the realization hits you like a physical blow. The web-like structures forming in the egg’s whites, the dark red blood swirling through the yolk—they aren’t just signs of any curse. They’re markers, symbols that reveal the curse’s origin. A curse that dark, that potent, could only come from someone with a deep, intimate connection to the target. Someone who shares his blood.

Eris leans over your shoulder, his eyes narrowing at the sight. “That’s not normal, is it?” he asks, his tone still deceptively casual, but you can hear the sharp edge of concern creeping into his voice.

You shake your head slowly, staring at the cursed egg. “No,” you reply, your voice low and tense. “Eris,” you begin, your voice trembling slightly as the weight of your discovery settles in. “This… this isn’t just any curse. It was arranged by someone who’s tied to you by blood. They must have paid a witch to curse you.”

His eyes widen, the casual facade slipping as your words sink in. He straightens, stepping back as if physically recoiling from the truth. For a moment, he’s silent, his usually sharp mind racing to process what you’ve just told him. But the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clench into fists, betrays the anger simmering beneath the surface.

“One of my brothers,” he murmurs, his voice low and deadly. There’s no question in his tone, only cold, calculated fury. The possibility of betrayal from within his own bloodline cuts deep, and you can see it in the way his expression darkens, in the way his shoulders stiffen as if preparing for battle.

You nod slowly, still staring at the cursed egg, your mind racing as you try to make sense of it all. “Whoever did this didn’t just want to hurt you—the curse is meant to kill, Eris.”

His gaze flickers back to you, and for a brief moment, you see something vulnerable in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. But then it’s gone, replaced by the cold determination that you’ve come to expect from him.

As you stare at the cursed egg’s results, frustration and determination mix in your mind. You need to figure out where the curse is coming from. “Wait here,” you tell him, already moving towards the shelves.

You start rummaging through your collection of enchanted tools and artifacts. You pull out a magnifying glass with runes etched into its frame—designed to detect magical auras. With it, you examine the egg’s remnants, trying to find any additional clues. Still focused, you then grab a small jar of salt, used for creating protective circles, and a vial of basic anti-magic tincture.

You hold the magnifying glass over Eris’s body, carefully examining for any magical disturbances. The glass shows a faint, dark aura around his entire form, but it’s still unclear where the source is. The salt is meant to amplify magical reactions, so you grab the jar and sprinkle some in a protective circle around him. As you observe, the dark aura becomes more pronounced, shifting and swirling. Still, it’s not pinpointed enough to identify the exact source of the curse.

You then use the anti-magic tincture, dabbing it on various parts of him: his hands, shoulders, his ankles, and on his clothing. The tincture reacts, but again, it does not specify where the curse is anchored. You decide to turn to a more direct method.

You remove one of the rings from Eris’s hand, placing it on a small tray before examining it closely with the magnifying glass. The ring is stunning, with a polished tiger’s eye stone that seems to capture and reflect the light with every movement. The stone is set in intricately crafted silver, engraved with delicate, swirling patterns reminiscent of flames. It’s a ring befitting Eris Vanserra—elegant yet undeniably powerful. This time, you notice the dark tendrils of magic intensify around the ring, more clearly than on the other items.

“This ring,” you say, realization dawning as you see the dark magic swirling more intensely, “Have you given it to anyone lately?”

Eris’s brows furrow in confusion. “No, why would I do that? It’s one of my favorites.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms and biting your lip in thought. “Are you sure? Any recent changes, anyone who might have had access to it?”

He hesitates, shifting uncomfortably. “I—well, I didn’t give it to anyone, but…” He sighs, sitting back down and looking down at the ring. “I woke up one morning and found it missing from my jewelry box. I only found it a few days later, yesterday, under the dresser.”

You nod, your mind racing with the implications. “That’s significant. The timing fits with when the curse seems to have taken hold. It’s likely that someone who knew about the ring might have tampered with it.” Eris’s expression darkens, and he clenches his jaw.

You give him a sympathetic look. “Luckily, it seems whoever cast this curse used extremely rudimentary techniques. I should be able to take care of it relatively easily… Go lie down in the back room,” you tell him, pointing at the door behind the front counter. “I’ll be there in a bit with what I need to start the healing process.”

Eris nods and heads to the back room, his demeanor more subdued now. As he disappears behind the door, you turn back to the counter, gathering the rest of your supplies. The task ahead is daunting, but you’re determined to see it through.

As he disappears into the back room, you take a deep breath, centering yourself as you gather the necessary items for the healing process. Your mind is consumed with the details of what you need, and you absentmindedly reach for a pen from the counter, sliding the end of it between your lips as you think through your list—cleansing herbs, protective talismans, and special antidotes to counteract the curse. You pull out a small wooden box and start preparing the mixtures, setting out vials and jars with practiced ease. 

You move through the shop, grabbing the fresh batch of herbs and an old family recipe for a purification salve. As you’re about to head to the back room, you pause, realizing you need one more item. You hastily grab a small vial of enchanted water, known for its potency in breaking curses.

With everything in hand, you head towards the back room, your nerves steeling for the task ahead. You open the door and step inside, where Eris is lying on the sofa, looking more subdued and less defiant.

“Alright,” you say, laying out the items on a nearby table. “I need you to strip, so I can massage the salve into your skin.”

Eris raises an eyebrow, his posture relaxed despite his condition. He lounges on the plush sofa, the luxurious fabric seeming to contrast sharply with his unwell state. He is draped elegantly over the cushions, looking effortlessly refined even in his weakened state. “Are you always so forward with your clients?” he asks, a lazy, yet sardonic smile playing on his lips.

You shoot him a wry smile. “Only the ones who show up at my door covered in curses. I promise, I’ll try to keep it as professional as possible.”

Eris arches an eyebrow, glancing down at his torn shirt before meeting your eyes with a smirk. “I’ll be curious to see just how ‘professional’ you manage to be, given the state of my shirt.”

“I suppose my attempt at professionalism might seem a bit questionable after that,” you respond, trying to match his playful tone. “But given the circumstances, I promise to keep my focus on getting you sorted out.”

Eris smirks, clearly entertained by your response. “I’ll hold you to that,” he replies, making no move to cover up as he removes his shirt. He casually kicks off his boots and slips out of his pants. He starts to remove his underwear, but you quickly hold up a hand, a hint of discomfort in your voice.

“Uh, you can keep those on,” you say, your tone awkward. “I really don’t need to see more of you than I already have.”

Eris raises an eyebrow but complies, lying back on the sofa in his remaining attire. He stretches out, his posture relaxed despite his state.

You try to maintain your composure as you prepare to apply the salve, aware of the subtle flush on your cheeks at the sight of him.

You take the salve and begin applying it to his skin, your hands gliding over the thick, soothing mixture. The salve is warm and slightly sticky, and you work it into his flesh with careful, deliberate strokes. His skin is pale and warm under your touch, marked with faint, livid lines where the curse has taken hold. Despite his condition, his muscles are firm and well-defined.

You try to focus on the task, but the proximity and the intimate nature of your work make your cheeks flush. Your hands move methodically, spreading the salve evenly over his torso, smoothing it into every defined contour. The tension in the room is almost tangible, and you do your best to maintain your composure, concentrating on the rhythm of your movements.

After a few minutes, you glance up at Eris, only to find him watching you with a smirk. You assume he’s noticed your nervousness and it makes your blush deepen, feeling the heat spread across your cheeks.

You hum as if asking “What?”, but it comes out a bit strained.

Eris chuckles softly, the sound low and knowing. “What’s the pendant on your necklace?”

You pause, momentarily distracted by his question. You glance down at the pendant but realize you’ve been toying with it between your teeth. You drop it, a sleek piece of black tourmaline set in a delicate silver setting. It catches the light, its dark, glossy surface reflecting an eerie, protective shimmer. “It’s black tourmaline,” you explain, trying to keep your voice steady as you wipe your hand on the skirt of your dress. “It’s known for protection.” 

You reach up and carefully open the locket, revealing a small, intricately illustrated image nestled inside. The illustration depicts you and a scruffy little dog, your faces pressed close together. His warm brown eyes are visible, reflecting the affection between you. The artist’s delicate strokes bring out the softness and warmth of the scene, with a gentle, glowing quality.

“Here,” you say, offering the locket for Eris to see. “That’s my dog, Cedar. He’s my best friend.”

Eris glances at the illustration and raises an eyebrow. “Cute dog,” he remarks, his voice softening slightly. He takes a moment to admire it before you close the locket and turn your attention back to the task at hand.

You resume applying the salve, your hands moving carefully over his thighs. Your proximity is close, and you can’t help but be aware of the intimate nature of the task.

Eris breaks the silence, his tone is casual yet curious. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a dog person. What’s he like?”

You continue working the salve into his skin, your hands deftly spreading it. “Cedar? He’s a little bundle of energy. Loves to play and is always up for an adventure. Not very fond of arrogant redheads.”

Eris chuckles softly. “Sounds like quite a character. I’ve got a few ghost hounds myself. Jasper’s the mischievous one, Ember’s more reserved but loyal, and Thorne... well, he’s a bit of a troublemaker. They each have their own quirks, but they’re a handful.” He smiles faintly, a hint of fondness in his eyes.

You nod, trying to focus on the salve while managing the awkward proximity. “Sounds like they’re quite a pack.”

Eris’s eyes twinkle with a mixture of amusement and affection as he regards you. “They are. All twelve of them.”

You clear your throat, doing your best to shake off the distraction of Eris’s body under your hands. “Twelve? That’s… quite a lot,” you manage to say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray how flustered you are.

Eris gives a small, almost smug nod. “They’re quite the company.”

You force a small smile, quickly refocusing on the task at hand before your scent gives you away. “Alright, I need you to flip over so I can get your back,” you instruct, your voice steadier now.

Eris moves with a grace that belies the curse’s toll, turning onto his stomach. As he settles, you catch yourself marveling at the expanse of his back, the way his muscles shift beneath his skin. You work the salve into his skin, starting at his shoulders and moving downward. Your fingers glide over the planes of his back, kneading the thick mixture into his skin with slow, deliberate motions.

When you reach his lower back, you can’t help but notice how firm and tight his muscles are. You swallow hard, trying to focus on the task and not on how ridiculously sculpted he is. This close, his scent—woodsy and warm, with a hint of spice—mixes with the herbs of the salve, creating an intoxicating blend that makes your heart race.

With the salve fully applied, you stand and step back, wiping your hands on a cloth. You retrieve the small vial of enchanted water from your supplies. The liquid inside shimmers faintly, a sign of its potency.

You kneel beside Eris and unstopper the vial, letting a few drops spill into your palm. “This will help neutralize any residual dark magic,” you explain, mostly to fill the silence as you pour the water into your hands. It’s cool to the touch, sending a slight tingle through your fingers.

Gently, you begin to rub the enchanted water into his skin, starting at his shoulders and moving downward again. You feel a faint warmth where the water touches his skin, a sign that the curse is reacting to the cleansing magic. You mutter a soft incantation under your breath as you work, tracing the lines of his muscles with your fingertips to ensure the water reaches every part of him.

Eris lies still beneath you, but you can sense his awareness of your every move. The tension between you is palpable, like a coiled spring waiting to snap. But you focus on your work, pushing aside the awkwardness.

You clear your throat softly. “Flip back over. I need to do your front.”

Eris obliges, rolling onto his back again. As you begin to apply the enchanted water to his chest, your hands instinctively move in slow, deliberate circles. The cool liquid glides over the hard planes of his abs and pecs, and you find yourself distracted by the feel of his muscles beneath your fingertips. His skin is smooth, marred only by the faint, dark lines of the curse, but the tautness of his body is impossible to ignore.

Your thoughts begin to wander, unbidden. The definition of his abs under your touch, the way his chest rises and falls steadily with each breath, the heat radiating from him despite the coolness of the water—all of it feels too intimate, too close. You lose yourself in the rhythm of the massage, each movement deliberate, but tinged with an awareness you wish you could ignore.

When you finally finish applying the water, you take a step back and wipe your hands again. “That should do it,” you say, though your voice comes out softer than you intended. “Now we just need to give it time to work.”

Eris slowly sits up, his movements careful and deliberate. He glances at you, and for a moment, his usual guarded expression softens. "Thank you," he says quietly, the words carrying a weight that surprises you.

You nod, unsure of how to respond to the sudden shift in his demeanor. "Just... make sure you rest. The curse should start breaking down now, but you'll need time to recover-"

Eris cuts you off, his tone turning teasing as he leans forward. "You always seem to be keeping that mouth of yours busy, don't you?"

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden comment. "Excuse me?"

His gaze drops pointedly to your hand, and it's only then that you realize your thumbnail is between your teeth. You quickly pull it away, trying to mask your embarrassment with a frown. "I wasn't-"

"Oh, you were," he interrupts, the smirk playing on his lips growing. "First your necklace, now your nails. And don't think I didn't notice you biting your lip earlier. Tell me, is this a nervous habit or something else?"

You huff, the irritation building slowly. "It's nothing. Just a habit, alright?"

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he's dissecting your every move. "A habit, hmm? Interesting."

You roll your eyes, exasperation creeping into your tone. "Look, it's really none of your business. I just did you a favor, saving your life; can't you drop the smart remarks for once?"

Eris's smirk doesn't waver. "A favor? Let's not pretend you didn't enjoy getting your hands all over me," he says, his voice dripping with mockery. "You were practically drooling over me."

Your face burns, and you take a step forward, anger and embarrassment now battling for dominance. "I was doing my job, Eris. If I took any extra care, it was because I had to-your life was in my hands, not because I wanted to."

He arches an eyebrow, clearly amused by your rising frustration. "So you admit you were being thorough."

You let out a frustrated breath, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. "You're insufferable, you know that? Not everything is about you."

His voice drops to a low, teasing whisper. “If it’s just a job, then why do you look like you’ve been caught red-handed?”

Your eyes widen at his insinuation, and you struggle to find a retort, feeling both flustered and infuriated by his smugness.

Your heart skips a beat at the intensity in his gaze, the raw challenge in his words. "What does it matter to you?" you snap back, though your voice falters, the heat of the moment starting to overwhelm you. "You're just trying to get under my skin."

Eris's gaze flickers to your lips, and you feel the air between you grow heavy, charged with an undeniable tension. "Maybe I am," he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Or maybe I'm just waiting for you to admit you want this as much as I do."

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you, the magnetic pull between you impossible to ignore. You shake your head, trying to maintain your composure despite the heat in your cheeks. "You don't really want this," you retort, your voice coming out more uncertain than you intended.

Eris's smirk widens, and he stands impossibly close to you, his eyes dark with intensity. "Oh, but I do."

You meet his gaze, feeling a surge of defiance and desire. "Prove it," you challenge, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eris responds to your challenge with a fierce intensity. He closes the space between you with a sudden, forceful kiss that takes your breath away. His lips crash against yours, and the kiss is a wild, heated clash of desire and frustration.

Your lips meet with a ferocity that makes your head spin, his hands gripping your face as if he's afraid you might pull away. His mouth moves against yours with a demanding urgency, his tongue pushing past your lips to tangle with yours. The kiss is rough, almost desperate, as if he's trying to prove something with every touch.

You feel his teeth nip at your lower lip, sharp and insistent, and the sudden spark of pain only intensifies the heat between you. Your hands find their way to his hair, gripping it tightly and pulling him closer if possible, as if trying to merge your bodies together.

Eris's fingers tangle in your hair, his grip firm as he tilts your head to deepen the kiss. His movements are driven by a raw, unrestrained need, and you can feel his breath come in ragged gasps against your skin. Each touch, each movement is a battle, a clash of passion and frustration.

You respond in kind, your own fingers digging into his scalp, your nails scratching lightly as you try to keep up with the fierce pace he sets. The kiss is a war of wills, a struggle for dominance that leaves you both breathless and hungry for more.

Finally, the intensity of the kiss subsides, but only slightly. You pull away just enough to look into each other's eyes, both of you panting heavily, faces flushed. The moment is charged with an electric tension, a mix of anger and desire that hangs in the air between you.

Eris's eyes are dark and intense as he stares at you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Is that proof enough?" he asks, his voice low and rough.

Your lips slam into his again, and you press your body against his with a forceful urgency, your hands roaming over his bare torso. Eris’s initial surprise quickly turns into fervor. His hands move over your back and sides, his touch rough but deliberate. His fingers brush along the fabric of your dress, tugging it slightly as he pulls you closer. His hands glide over your waist, up your sides, and finally settle at the small of your back, pulling you so close that there’s no space left between your bodies. Your hands explore his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his smooth skin, and you can’t help but dig your nails in slightly, relishing the shudder that ripples through him.

“You’re such a pain,” you murmur against his lips, your voice breathy but laced with irritation. “Always so arrogant, thinking everyone wants you.”

Eris’s response is a low growl, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he pulls back just enough to look at you. “And yet here you were, begging me to strip under the guise of helping me. I guess my arrogance isn’t so misplaced after all.”

Your retort is immediate, biting. “Guise? I did help you, don’t flatter yourself. This isn’t about you—it’s about shutting you up.” You punctuate your words by biting down on his lower lip, hard enough to make him hiss in a mix of pain and pleasure.

He chuckles, the sound low and mocking. “Is that what you’re telling yourself? That this is just about shutting me up?” His grip on your hips tightens, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “Keep lying to yourself if it helps you sleep at night. But we both know you’re enjoying this.”

You shove him back slightly, just enough to regain some space, your chest heaving with both desire and defiance. “You’re delusional. If anything, I’m doing this to prove you wrong.” But even as you say it, your hands are already trailing lower, brushing over the hard lines of his abdomen, testing his resolve.

Eris’s smirk never falters. “Keep telling yourself that,” he says, his voice thick with lust and challenge. “But we both know the truth—you can’t resist me any more than I can resist you.”

“Resist?” You scoff, though your voice wavers with the intensity of the moment. “Who said anything about resisting? Maybe I’m just enjoying the moment before I throw you out.”

His eyes darken further, a primal edge sharpening his features. “You talk a big game, but I can feel how much you’re into this.” His hand slides up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress’s long skirt aside with  forceful impatience. “Or do you want me to stop and see if you beg?”

You meet his challenge head-on, your eyes blazing. “Beg? I’d rather die.”

He grins, his teeth flashing in the dim light as his hand continues its relentless exploration. “We’ll see.”

With that, he kisses you again, the force of it pushing you both back until you’re pinned against the wall, his body pressing into yours with an intensity that makes your head spin. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling hard, and he groans into your mouth, his own grip on you tightening as the need between you becomes impossible to ignore.

"You're insufferable," you hiss, though your fingers are still digging into his skin, still trailing over the hard lines of his chest.

Eris’s mouth swallows your frustrated words. “Then shut me up,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with challenge.

You take the bait, pulling him closer as you bite down on his lip again, harder this time, drawing a low groan from him. His hands slip under your dress, the roughness of his touch sending a shiver up your spine. “That all you’ve got?” he taunts, his voice ragged.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes locked with his in a heated stare. “I can do a lot more than that,” you shoot back, your voice dripping with defiance.

“Prove it,” he snarls, his hands tightening on your hips as if daring you to push the boundaries further.

Your gaze never wavers from his as you slowly begin to sink to your knees in front of him. Eris's breath hitches slightly, his eyes darkening with a mix of surprise and something else, something far more primal.

“Careful,” he warns, though there’s a rough edge to his voice that betrays his anticipation. “You might find yourself in over your head.”

You smirk, defiant as ever. “I’m sure I can handle you,” you say, your voice low and challenging as you settle in front of him, pulling his underwear down and freeing his cock. It springs up, slapping against his skin. Eris's breath catches again, this time more audibly, as your fingers wrap around him, the warmth of your touch eliciting a shudder from him. For a moment, the air between you is charged, thick with tension. His fiery gaze locks onto yours, his usual cool demeanor cracking just enough to reveal the raw desire simmering beneath the surface.

“Is that so?” His voice is a rasp, heavy with lust, yet there's still a trace of his usual arrogance, as if he’s not entirely convinced you know what you’re getting into. His hand slides into your hair, not quite a caress but not entirely a threat either.

You look up at him through your lashes, your smirk never fading as you lean in, the tip of your tongue teasing the sensitive head of his cock. Eris's grip tightens involuntarily, and you feel a surge of satisfaction at the way his control is already starting to slip.

“Keep pushing me, and I won’t be able to stop myself,” he growls. But you don’t intend to stop. You want to see him unravel, to take him apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left of his carefully constructed composure. Your mouth closes around him, taking him deeper, your movements slow, savoring the way he swears under his breath, his hips jerking slightly as if he can’t help but respond to the pleasure you’re giving him.

“Fuck,” he mutters and braces his hand against the wall as you cup his balls. The last of his restraint frays as you take him deeper, the heat of your mouth and the slick glide of your tongue driving him mad with pleasure.

His dominance, his ever-present need to be in control, is slipping through his fingers, and you can see it in the way his eyes flutter shut, in the way his head tips back, exposing the strong line of his throat. You’re pushing him closer and closer to the brink, and the power you feel at this moment is intoxicating, heady, and utterly addictive.

His hand tightens in your hair, and just as you feel like you’ve taken control, he pulls you back with a sudden, forceful yank. The motion is swift, leaving you gasping as he tilts your head up, pressing it back against the wall. His eyes, dark and wild, lock onto yours, and you can see the moment he decides to take the power back.

Without a word, he thrusts forward, his cock pushing past your lips in a smooth, deliberate motion, filling your mouth completely. The sensation is overwhelming—the taste of him, the pressure, the way his hips move with a raw, unrestrained need. He’s no longer holding back, no longer letting you lead.

His hand in your hair tightens even more, holding you firmly in place as he begins to fuck your mouth, each thrust rougher, more demanding than the last. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s fighting to maintain some semblance of control, but it’s slipping fast, and you know you’re the one driving him to this point.

“Is this what you needed?” he growls, his voice rough with the thrill of dominance. “Always biting your nails, playing with that necklace... I knew you needed something more to keep that mouth of yours busy.”

His words send a jolt of heat through you, the dark thrill only intensifying your desire. You try to nod, but his grip holds you in place, his cock filling your mouth completely, muffling any response you could give. The way he’s watching you, eyes narrowed, intense, tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Tell me,” he demands, thrusting deeper, his voice low and laced with a dark satisfaction. “You like this better, don’t you? Better than biting down on that lip of yours? You’d rather be sucking my cock, wouldn’t you?”

The words, the sheer audacity of his tone, make you whimper around him, the sound vibrating through your throat, and his grip tightens almost possessively in response. His thrusts become more erratic, each one pushing you closer to the edge, the friction, the heat building between you until it’s all-consuming.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of mockery and admiration. “So desperate to keep your mouth busy. Is this what you’ve been wanting all along? Something to fill that pretty little mouth, something to keep you from biting down so hard?”

You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, and the way he shudders makes you feel a surge of satisfaction. You’re pushing him right to the edge, and he knows it, the way his hips snap forward betraying how close he is to losing control entirely.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice cracking with the intensity of it all. “You feel so fucking good—taking me so well. Just like that. Keep going, and I’ll make sure you never have to worry about looking for something to occupy that pretty little mouth with ever again.”

His words send you spiraling, your own desire mounting as you submit to his dominance. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, the desperation in his movements telling you just how close he is to unraveling completely. His grip on your hair is almost punishing, but the way he’s losing himself in you is worth every second of it.

“Do you like this?” he taunts, his voice low and rough. “Better than anything else you’ve ever had between those lips?”

And just as you sense he’s about to tip over the edge, he pulls back, panting heavily, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and lust as he tries to regain control.  But it’s too late—he’s already there, the pleasure too overwhelming to stop. With a low, guttural groan, he wraps his hand around his slick cock as he strokes himself to completion.

His hips jerk as he comes, hot and thick, painting your lips and tongue with his release. The taste of him floods your senses, salty and rich, and you can’t help but savor it, holding his gaze as you swallow every last drop. The look on his face is pure, unrestrained satisfaction, but there’s still that edge of frustration, like he’s not quite finished with you yet.

Before you can react, he hauls you to your feet, his grip firm, almost possessive. His eyes never leave yours as he reaches out, his thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth, gathering the last traces of his release. The movement is deliberate, his expression dark and unreadable as he holds his thumb in front of your lips.

“Open,” he commands, his voice rough, and without hesitation, you part your lips, sucking his thumb clean. The taste of him lingers on your tongue, and the way his eyes darken tells you he’s watching every second, every subtle movement.

His thumb slides free from your mouth, and for a moment, there’s a heavy silence between you, charged with the aftermath of what just happened and the unspoken promise of what’s to come next. Eris’s chest heaves with each breath, but the hunger in his eyes hasn’t dimmed. If anything, it’s only grown stronger, the intensity between you far from spent.

Eris’s hands find the laces on the back of your dress, his fingers deft as he begins to undo them, each tug of the fabric sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. His breath is still heavy, uneven, but there's a renewed focus in his movements, a meticulousness that makes your pulse quicken. The dress loosens gradually, the cool air hitting your skin as he exposes more and more of you, and the sensation of his fingers grazing your back is maddening.

You can take in the sight of him now—bare, unrestrained, his usual elegance stripped away—it sends a jolt of desire through you. But before you can revel in it, his hands are on you again, rougher this time, pulling the dress down your body until it pools at your feet.

His eyes drink you in, taking in every inch of your now-exposed skin, and the way he looks at you makes your breath hitch. There’s something almost reverent in his gaze, but it’s laced with a hunger that promises he’s far from done with you. He steps closer, and the heat radiating off him is palpable, his chest brushing against yours as he reaches down between your bodies, his hand yanking your underwear down and finding its way to your core.

Your hand slips between you, stroking him, and he groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. His fingers slide against you, a delicious friction that makes you gasp, your grip on him tightening reflexively in response. His eyes are half-lidded as he reaches behind you to undo the clasps of your bra, focused entirely on the way your body responds to him, and it sends a shiver down your spine. It’s a reminder that despite the edge you’d gained, he’s still every bit as dangerous, every bit as intoxicating.

With a growl, Eris suddenly lifts you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he presses you back against the wall. The cool surface contrasts sharply with the heat of his body, and the sensation is almost overwhelming, his hard length brushing against your inner thigh, teasing, tormenting. You can feel the tension in his muscles, the barely restrained need as he grinds against you, his hand still between your legs, stoking the fire that’s been burning between you both from the start.

And then, with a swift, powerful thrust, he’s inside you, and everything else falls away—the tension, the teasing, the power struggle—until all that’s left is the raw, unrelenting desire that neither of you can deny any longer. He’s relentless, driving into you with a raw, primal need that matches your own, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. The sound of your bodies colliding, the wet slide of him inside you, fills the room, mingling with the ragged breaths and low moans you can’t suppress.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growls against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he bites down just hard enough to make you gasp, the pain mingling with the pleasure in a way that only intensifies the sensation. His voice is rough, laced with a dark satisfaction as if he’s finally giving you what you’ve been daring him to unleash. “You’re so fucking desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” you snap back, but your voice comes out breathless, betraying how much you’re already unraveling. His words send a thrill through you, the taunting, the edge of danger in his tone only making you want him more. Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving marks on his skin as you try to meet his thrusts, the pressure building inside you almost unbearable.

He smirks against your throat, his breath hot and uneven. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your pulse point before he bites down again, harder this time. “You want me to break you, don’t you?”

Your hands fist in his hair, yanking his head back so you can meet his gaze, the defiance in your eyes only fueling the fire between you. “Shut up,” you hiss, your voice trembling with the force of your impending release. 

A dark chuckle escapes him, and he slams into you harder, the movement sending you both crashing further into the abyss of sensation. Each thrust drives you higher, the pressure in your core building, threatening to shatter you into a million pieces. His movements are wild, erratic, and yet there’s a precision to them, a calculated determination to make you lose control before he does. But you’re not about to give in easily, not when the taste of victory is so close.

“Faster,” you demand, your voice edged with desperation, and the way his eyes flash with something primal tells you he’s just as close to the edge as you are.

He obliges, his pace becoming almost brutal as he pounds into you, the sound of your name falling from his lips like a curse, like a prayer. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice cracking with the intensity of it all. “I’m going to ruin you.”

“I’m sure you’d love to,” you manage to choke out, but the words are barely coherent, your mind a haze of pleasure as he drives you closer and closer to oblivion.

And then he reaches down, his thumb finding your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to send you spiraling. The sudden, overwhelming sensation makes you cry out, your body arching against him as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in bliss.

Eris isn’t far behind, the feeling of you tightening around him pushing him over the edge. He buries himself deep inside you, his own release ripping through him with a ferocity that leaves him shaking, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he finds his own release, the tension that’s been coiled so tightly between you finally snapping.

For a moment, neither of you moves, the only sound in the room is ragged breathing as you both come down from the high. His forehead rests against yours, his breath hot against your lips, and for a fleeting moment, the war between you seems to fade, leaving only the raw, unfiltered connection that this moment has forged.

But it’s only a moment.

“Don’t think this changes anything,” you murmur, your voice still breathless but laced with that familiar defiance.

Eris chuckles softly, the sound a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, though there’s a softness to his voice that wasn’t there before, a hint of something more beneath the layers of antagonism.

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (19/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, unprotected sex, targcest stuff, kind of role-play, smut, the angst, nightmares ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Our son will have my eyes.

Helaena saw me holding him in my arms.

They will have a child.

This thought burned in his chest like fire – the knowledge that, though he did not know when, his male offspring, his first-born son, the heir to the Iron Throne would be born, brought him relief.

He felt a sense of pride at the thought – he, unlike his sister-whore, would have legitimate descendant from the righteous bed, from his wife, from Targaryen blood.

He tried to push away the thought that he would have to share his cousin with someone, focusing on the fact that there was a future for them together – he knew his hāedar was worried about whether she was fertile, and his sister's vision must surely have reassured and comforted her.

This information, her words, pleased him so much that his rage at what Daemon had done passed – he found it amusing that his uncle thought he would fall into his trap, leaving his wife and her dragon at his fingertips.

They spent that night together in one of the chambers – the wood in the hearth was so wet that the servants were unable to light a fire.

His wife walked around the room, restless, and stopped at last, looking up – he watched out of the corner of his eye as she slowly walked over to the dried herbs piled up over the windows, hung there for sure to mask the unpleasant smell of dampness.

"Hand me your dagger." She said, extending her arm to him, wrinkling her brow as if something about this sight disturbed her.

He rose from his chair, startled, and slid out of his scabbard the dagger with the head of Vhagar, turning it in his hand, handing her the hilt. She took it from his grip and cut the rope holding the flowers together, looking at them closely – she leaned over and sniffed them, as if pondering something.

"This is a blue holly. My nanny used to show me these herbs in the meadow. She said you musn't sniff them because their pollen makes you daydream." She said, throwing him an anxious look full of tension.

When they lifted their heads, they noticed dozens of bouquets of herbs tied one next to the other, as if someone had specially prepared them and hung them up so that they wouldn't draw anyone's attention.

"They were also in the corridor. And in the room where we spoke this morning," she muttered, "from a distance they look like lavender. I'm not surprised that people think this fortress is haunted – someone who is exposed to so many of them at once surely experiences hallucinations. Perhaps the bodies of servants and lords who have lived here for years have managed to accustom themselves and are no longer affected, but we, my husband, will not experience a peaceful sleep here."

"Guards!" He called out towards the door – one of the men stepped inside and bowed to him.

"Your Grace. My Lady."

"Get those fucking weeds off the ceiling and make sure they're gone from the whole fortress. Does anyone here practice herbalism? Any Maester?" He asked coolly, wondering if this was another part of the trap Daemon had set for them.

What else awaited them within these walls?

The man shook his head.

"There is no Maester in this fortress, Your Grace, but there is a woman they call a witch. Apparently she practises magic. She's in the dungeon with the other prisoners." The man said, and he nodded.

"Make sure she stays locked up. Tie her hands and gag her mouth. I will speak with her on the morrow." He ordered.

"No." His wife said. "I wish to do it, lēkia. Let me."

He pressed his lips together and nodded, telling the man wordlessly to leave the chamber, which he did after a moment.

He ran the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, trying to control his irritation and choose his words properly.

"Once again you undermine my words in the presence of others." He remarked dryly.

"She is going to try to seduce you." She said.

He chuckled and shook his head in disbelief, thinking that she had allowed herself to be driven by simple feminine jealousy.

"Don't be foolish." He replied.

"I would if I were her. She'll play with you, but she won't tell you anything. But maybe she'll confide in the other woman." She stated, making him regret his hasty assessment.

He remained silent, concluding that she was probably right, and he had no time for this – he needed to send word to his grandfather as soon as possible and communicate with him as to their further actions regarding Daemon.

He decided that he could leave this matter to her.

"Ser Criston will accompany you on this visit. I do not want this woman to cast a spell on the mother of my child." He said.

The night was chilly, and the lack of warmth that a fire lit in the hearth would have given them meant that although they had slept bare in the Red Keep, now they lay snuggled together – she dressed in a thick nightgown, he in a shirt and breeches, covered by several layers of furs.

"Stay close to me through the night." He whispered, not wanting her to get cold.

He kissed her forehead when she nodded and breathed a sigh, thanking the gods in his mind for bestowing upon him such an attentive, tender, devoted wife.

He realised that their marriage was successful.

He woke up feeling that she wanted to get up – he frowned in displeasure, putting his arm around her tighter, pulling her close again.

"– where are you going? –" He muttered, not opening his eyes, thinking, still sunk half asleep, that he was comfortable in that position and wanted to snuggle into her back again.

He heard her helpless sob, as if she was choking, her hands gripped his arms tightly, causing him pain – he hissed and raised himself up on his elbow, shaking her, terrified.

"– hāedar – hāedar, wake up –" He mumbled, seeing that she was whooping with her tears, her eyelids clenched, her eyebrows arched in horror and distress.

Her body shuddered and jerked up as she suddenly opened her eyes – she looked at him, but it seemed to him that she didn't recognise him, because she started screaming before throwing herself around his neck.

"– lēkia! – lēkia, oh gods –" She whimpered, digging her fingers into his back, snuggling into him as tightly as if she wanted to melt into him – he embraced her close and pressed her to him, kissing her temple, rocking her like a small child, trying to soothe her.

"– easy – you are safe – your husband is by your side –" He whispered in pain.

She took a breath and cried out loud with some kind of relief.

"– breath, sweet girl – breath –" He repeated quietly, again and again placing tender, warm kisses on her forehead.

"– I dreamt I woke up and you weren't here – I could hear only the sound of the water, all around me complete darkness –" She whined, and he nodded.

Subconsciously she was afraid that he might really leave her.

That he would have fled to King's Landing like a coward, abandoning her.

"– it was just a bad dream, hāedar – nothing more –" He assured her, but instead of calming down she moaned loudly on the verge of hysteria, wiping her cheeks, all red from tears.

"– and then your cold hand grabbed me, as if – as if you were drowning – I tried to pull you out, but you were too heavy – and then you let me go –" She choked out with difficulty in a breaking voice.

He took her hair from her face and settled down so that he could look at her, stroking her head.

"Hāedar. We still live in fear of what the future will bring. I too am haunted by grim thoughts, visions of how you could perish trying to protect me in the sky." He whispered hesitantly, and she took a loud breath, as if gathering her courage, as if she wanted to say something more.

"– Helaena – then, when you walked into my chamber – she said she could only see me and the child, but you were not with us – she said she could only hear the sound of the water –" She mumbled and burst out crying again, louder this time, covering her mouth with her hand, as if the words spoken aloud scared her even more.

He froze, looking at her in disbelief, feeling his heart pounding like mad – her words filled him with a cold, unpleasant discomfort, but on the other hand, it was such a general description that it could mean anything.

He could have been close to the sea, in Dragonstone, to strike the final blow against Rhaenyra and secure their descendant's inheritance.

He could have been patrolling King's Landing while his wife looked after their child to keep them safe.

Helaena's words stuck in her head, and the situation they found themselves in compounded her fear, he consoled himself with an effort, trying to grasp onto his sanity.

It meant nothing.

"You said yourself how these herbs affect us. After all, we were around them for hours before you noticed them. It's certainly their fault and what you found out. Your heart is suffering." He whispered, tentatively slipping his large hand under the material of her nightgown, placing it where he could feel a gentle, quick pounding.

She sighed and looked up at him, placing her hand over his, as if something in his touch, his gaze, his caring tenderness and his soothing, calm voice brought her relief.

He kissed her – it was a slow, gentle, moist caress, her mouth wonderfully warm under his – he heard her purr of delight, felt her lips part before his, allowing his slick tongue to slide lazily between her teeth.

"– mmm –" She murmured – he grinned when he felt her spread her legs in front of him in some involuntary, natural reflex of trust.

He thought he loved the way her body reacted to his touch as his hand from her cheek slid down her neck lower, to her full breasts, and then further down to her stomach before finally reaching the warmth between her thighs.

She sighed and clasped her hands in his hair as his fingers collected the moisture that had managed to spill out of her, circling around her little pearl – he felt her body quiver with pleasure, her breath heavy and raspy, the tips of her fingers digging into his back.

"– lēkia –" She gasped, throwing her head back, rolling her hips in rhythm with his gentle caresses. He felt his erection swell painfully in his breeches at this sight, pushing against her thigh, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

"– I'm with you – alive and warm – hard – can't you feel it? –" He whispered in a trembling voice – he heard her moan softly, nodding, rubbing her hip against his long manhood.

"– I feel it – I need you –" She muttered like a small child.

He did not let her wait – he lay down between her legs, spreading the material of his trousers to the sides, releasing his throbbing length. He teased her for a moment, running the tip of it over her hot, leaking slit, looking down at her, raised on his hands.

"– please –" She urged him, desperate and impatient – a low, long grunt of pleasure escaped their lips as he pushed against her flesh, slowly forcing his way into her plump, moist interior.

"– yes –" She whispered, and he kissed her, pressing his thirsty lips against hers in a soft, passionate caress, filling her to the brim with himself.

They sighed as he began rocking his hips back and forth, with lazy, slow thrusts building the tension in their veins – their breaths became heavy and loud, their bodies pounding against each other rhythmically with the sticky smacks of their exposed skin.

"– if I were a courtesan – would you choose me over the others? –" She asked suddenly, startling him completely – he involuntarily chuckled, stopping moving, looking at her in disbelief.

"– what kind of question is it? –" He exhaled, looking her straight in the eyes, seeing even in the darkness that she was red with embarrassment and probably regretted that those words had left her mouth.

"– would you have thought I was beautiful? –" She whispered, stroking his cheeks with her smooth, small fingers.

He snorted and shook his head, grinning under his breath, wondering what he should answer, feeling his manhood throb hard inside her at the thought.

Instead of Madam, she, a young girl lying on sheets soaked in perfume to mask the smell of the other couples before them. She would be dressed in a robe of fine, expensive material, meant for his eyes – for the Prince. She would be freshly bathed, her long, dark curls would be arranged in waves around her head, her doe eyes looking at him full of curiosity and confidence.

"– I would certainly delight in the spirit of your beauty – but I would not choose you –" He said at last.

He saw that his words caused her pain – her lips tightened and then opened in an anxious breath, her eyebrows arched in an expression of sadness and disappointment.

"– why? –" She asked regretfully.

He sighed, with a soft, gentle thrust of his hips pushing his erection into her heat, wanting to feel her with all of himself – he leaned over her so that the tips of their noses almost touched, his thumb running over her silky cheek.

"– the fear of your judgement of me would not allow me to experience the pleasure of the act –" He confessed at last, placing a tender, lingering kiss on her jaw.

He heard her swallow hard, her hands stroking his shoulders as if she imagined it was really happening, and she tried to comfort him.

"– after all, you know that I would never mock you – that I would never hurt you –" She whispered, and he closed his eyes.

"– I wouldn't have known it then – would I? –" He asked, feeling that he couldn't last any longer – he slid out of her halfway and slammed hard into her, then again and again, making their hips bump against each other.

"– ah –" She cried out, throwing her head back, crossing her legs over his back – he gripped her buttocks in his hands, surrendering completely to his masculine, primal desire to take a woman, panting loudly along with her.

"– I would desire you from afar – I would imagine myself taking you while another lay beneath me –" He gasped out, feeling that for some reason this thought and these words aroused him even more – his erection was so hard that it almost caused him pain, the tension in his lower abdomen unbearable.

"– I'd watch you from afar – I'd beg in my mind for at least one word, one look of yours –" She mewled beneath him – he grunted out loud in pleasure feeling how hard her slick walls began to pulsate around his length, clearly as close to peak as he was.

Their bodies snuggled into each other, their fingers tightened on their hot, bare skin as he pressed her against the bed, the frame of which began to creak beneath them.

"– please, my Prince – take me, take me, take me –" She begged, and he sank into their fantasy, imagining that he had done it, that he had finally taken the one he wanted and no other.

"– mmm – fuck – g-gods –" He exhaled, panting heavily and closed his eye, feeling a sudden, wonderful relief when his warm seed filled her womb – her sweet, surprised moan of pleasure and the greedy, drawn-out squeezes of her spasming cunt told him that his lover had come as quickly as he had.

He collapsed on top of her, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart, cuddling his face into her cheek – they were embracing each other loosely, like a couple of strangers who had just fucked each other.

He opened his eye and swallowed hard, noticing a familiar pretty face, a face he had been looking at for several moons now.

His hand stroked her hot, sweaty cheek as she looked up at him and smiled in a way that only she could.

He wasn't sure what had just happened between them, but he enjoyed it.

He didn't know, however, if he should admit it, so he kept a safe silence.

"If you paid me for every fulfillment of yours that I was the cause of, I would be the richest courtesan in Westeros." She said lightly, amused, her voice filled with innocent sweetness.

He involuntarily huffed and shook his head.

"To your misfortune, you are my wife and must perform this duty deprived of my golden coins." He scoffed, clenching his fingers in her hair – she murmured when his thumb ran over her lower lip.

"Open." He ordered, and she obediently followed his command – as his finger slid deep between her teeth, she closed her eyes and began to suck.

He gasped when he felt her slick tongue swirl around the tip of his thumb, exactly as she did with the pink, delicate head of his long cock when she satisfied him with her mouth.

"– you would make a perfect whore – I would take you to the Red Keep as my servant and fuck you every night –" He hummed – she purred like a kitten, looking up at him softly, his finger slipping out from between her puffy lips with a loud, sticky plop.

"– your mother and wife would be delighted –" She exhaled – he closed her mouth with his own, not wanting her to blaspheme any more and gripped her hips in his hands again, repeating everything from the beginning.

He was awakened by the sound of rain outside the window – when he opened his eyelid, he saw that although the sun had certainly risen, everything around him was grey because of the clouds that stretched across the sky.

He sighed quietly, feeling a strange kind of discomfort, though he didn't know for what reason – he blinked, looking down to see that their bodies were still joined, despite the fact that his manhood deep inside her was completely soft now.

He was warm and comfortable – snuggled into her back, sunken into her, embracing her at the waist, he felt comforted.

He tried to recall his dream – in it, he was in a brothel again, however, he had not taken Sylvi, but some other girl – he then spoke to her about taking her to the Red Keep.

What had occurred to him to think of such things?

He swallowed hard, assuring himself that it meant nothing – he leaned over to look at Floris's face, but although the colour of her hair was similar, her face looked completely different.

He closed his eye, feeling his mind finally completely awake, and sighed loudly in wonderful relief, realising that he had not married Lord Baratheon's daughter, or been to a brothel, or taken anyone to the Red Keep.

He was in Harrenhal with his cousin.

He felt that he was suddenly in the perfect mood and clung to her like a small child, burying his face in her shoulder.

She purred contentedly, stroking his skin with her hands, continuing to sleep.

His wife was his mistress.

Before they ate anything in the morning, one of the servants tasted everything they had been served.

"You may leave." He said at last, and the boy nodded.

"Your Grace. My Lady."

He sighed, reaching for the bread, thinking in the back of his mind that their meal was meagre, but they could not eat like kings, forcing his soldiers to starve.

He ordered that the portion of food meant for him and his wife be distributed equally among his army so that their supplies would last longer.

"I will speak with the Witch of Harrenhal today." She communicated to him while eating bread with a piece of smoked sausage.

"I don't like this." He replied.

"Criston Cole will be with me."

"What if she tries to put a…curse on you?" He asked uncertainly, feeling how silly and naïve those words sounded.

And yet, dragons were an effect of magic, so it wasn't impossible.

"She won't. I won't give her a reason to do it." She said lightly, rising from her chair, wiping her hands in a white cloth.

"I'll return to you as soon as I've finished." She assured him – she walked over to him and leaned in, placing a lingering, warm kiss on the top of his head.

His hand grasped hers before she cast him a reassuring, calm look and turned away, disappearing after a moment behind the door, where Ser Criston was already waiting for her.

He sighed heavily and tilted his head back, closing his eye, feeling anxious.

The silence before the storm.

He waited patiently for her, meanwhile in his letter informing his grandfather of what had happened and of his decisions.

Daemon returned to Dragonstone, stripping Harrenhal of its supplies beforehand. He made a mockery of us, but I will not leave the fortress unprotected. Send us food as soon as possible and convince Helaena to be on guard, ready for enemy attack at any moment. Prepare for a possible siege. I will try, together with my wife, to draw the Lords of the Riverlands and the Vale to our side. Aemond

He was sure she was the one who had walked into his chamber when the door opened suddenly.

"Your Grace. Word from Dragonstone has arrived."

He froze, looking at his servant in disbelief, feeling a drop of cold sweat on his back, his heart pounding hard in his chest. He nodded and held out his hand to him – the boy walked up to him and handed him a small, rolled piece of parchment.

"You may leave." He said coldly, and the boy bowed to him and left without another word.

He bit his lower lip, knowing that whatever he read inside, it would not be good news.

Would Rhaenyra tell him that she had just burned King's Landing?

That she is sitting on the Iron Throne?

That his mother, his sister, his grandfather are dead?

He unrolled the parchment and swallowed hard, seeing that only two sentences was written on it.

The Gods Eye, tonight. Face me like a true man, nephew.

[anyca786]

Mikealson Siblings taking care of Pregnant!reader

The afternoon sun streamed through the arched windows of the Mikaelson compound, casting dappled shadows across the plush sofa where you sat. Your hand rested on your swollen belly, tracing the faint outline of a tiny foot that seemed determined to imprint itself on your skin. A sigh escaped your lips, laced with a curious mix of exhaustion and awe. Being pregnant with Klaus Mikaelson's child was an experience unlike any other.

"Penny for your thoughts, love?"

Elijah, your best friend's voice came from behind you, startling you slightly. He knelt down, his gentle eyes crinkling at the corners as he placed a cool hand on your cheek.

"Sore feet?" he asked, his gaze flickering down to your ankles where you idly rubbed them.

As if summoned, Elijah began to gently massage your feet, his touch a soothing balm against the constant ache. "The joys of motherhood," he chuckled softly. "Even before the little one arrives."

"You should see Rebekah skipping around like a mother hen," you said with a laugh.

Ever since the news, Rebekah had taken it upon herself to become your personal nutritionist. Bowls of fresh fruit seemed to magically appear by your side, and gentle reminders to stay hydrated were delivered with an endearing bossiness.

Suddenly, the library door slammed open, and Kol burst in, brandishing a book. He skidded to a halt when he saw you. "Apologies, darling," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes vanishing instantly as he took in your weary expression. "Didn't mean to startle you. Are you alright?"

You couldn't help but melt under his sudden concern. The Mikaelson siblings, notorious for their chaotic lives, were turning into a symphony of attentiveness for you. "Just a little tired, Kol," you assured him, a smile returning to your face. His brow furrowed slightly, then smoothed over as he noticed a stray strand of hair clinging to your cheek. With a gesture so tender it surprised even him, he brushed it away.

A deep, booming voice resonated through the room, "Elijah, have you located the witch Davina spoke of?"

Klaus stalked into the library, his scowl fading the moment he spotted you. As he drew closer, his voice softened to a near murmur. "Have you eaten anything yet, love?"

You fought back a giggle. "Yes, Klaus, just some fruit Rebekah insisted upon."

He hovered for a moment, his gaze flitting across your face. "Did you rest well last night?"

You nodded, touched by the worry etched on his usually stoic face. Klaus wasn't known for his displays of affection, but ever since you carried his child, a tenderness he couldn't quite mask lingered in his blue eyes. He cleared his throat, the familiar Klaus returning momentarily.

"Excellent. We don't need any unnecessary fatigue while dealing with this archaic prophecy."

He turned to face Elijah, resuming their previous conversation. However, his words were punctuated by occasional glances your way, each one a silent confirmation of his concern.

The next few weeks were a blur of doctor's appointments, cravings for bizarre combinations of food, and endless debates about the nursery.

Elijah, the undisputed planner, had already sketched out several designs, each more elaborate than the last. Rebekah, however, preferred a more minimalist approach, arguing for practicality over aesthetics. Kol, surprisingly, became the voice of reason, mediating their arguments with witty commentary and unexpected insights.

Klaus, though typically absent from these discussions, always managed to appear moments before a decision was made. His vetoes, delivered with a gruffness that belied his softening heart, were invariably accepted. The nursery, a haven of soft hues and elegant simplicity, was a testament to his unspoken desire to create a safe haven for his child.

One rainy afternoon, you found yourself curled up on the chaise lounge in Rebekah's room, a book clutched limply in your hand. Fatigue weighed heavily on your eyelids, threatening to pull you under. You drowsily watched rain lash against the window, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you.

The sound of the door creaking open startled you awake. Rebekah entered, a concerned frown creasing her brow. "You shouldn't be reading in such dim light, love," she chided gently, setting a steaming cup on the side table. "And here I thought Klaus told you to take a nap."

"He did," you mumbled, reaching for the cup. The warm aroma of chamomile filled your senses, instantly calming you further.

"He's just worried sick," Rebekah said, settling beside you on the chaise lounge. "We all are."

This was so random 💀

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of my favorite funny/crack One Direction fics as requested in this ask. You can find part one of this rec here. It's been four years since this last crack fic rec, so I've got lots of newer ones to rec! You can find all my other recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

🤣 You Ain’t Gotta Feel Fear Just Mingle by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 32k, coworkers) Harry has been at his dream job for less than three months, and he knows two things for sure; first, his project manager doesn't know what he's doing, and second, someone in the office is apparently pure evil, and no one will tell Harry who it is.

🤣 Your Reign is Free (to give along to Santa) by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 28k, established relationship) Harry and Louis have some friends coming by, and some totally normal birthday and Christmas plans. It’s a totally typical totally normal Christmas Eve.

🤣 Colorful Hearts by @larrysmomfics

(M, 20k, therapist Harry) In a world where orgasmic emissions change color depending on the person’s mood, Louis Tomlinson’s semen has only ever been blue. At the recommendation of his doctor he attends a support group for people with similar conditions.

🤣 Man, Deconstructed by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 13k, strangers to lovers) the one where a well-meaning best mate, a sculpture-worthy arse, and a heaping dose of misunderstanding combine to create sheer and utter chaos, and also, maybe, the best thing Harry’s ever found.

🤣 Foolishly Laying Our Hearts On The Table by runaway_train / @runaway-train-works

(E, 11k, friends to lovers) The one where Harry is in love with his best friend Louis but doesn't think he stands a chance until some wisdom teeth and a rather unusual confession might just change his mind.

🤣 Just Your Jinx by @larryatendoftheday

(T, 10k, witch Harry) Harry Styles may or may not have accidentally jinxed his extremely fit new neighbor, and it's not so easy to make things right.

🤣 For a day by bluegreenish / @greenblueish

(T, 9k, body swap) the one where Harry wakes up in Louis' body, Louis in Liam's, Liam in Niall's, Niall in Harry's and no one picked Zayn.

🤣 You smile all the time ('cause how can you not show it?) by thebreadvan / @thebreadvansstuff

(E, 9k, dentist Louis) Harry never liked dentists, until now.

🤣 Let the Feeling Last by @allwaswell16

(T, 5k, omegaverse) Omega Harry thinks the alpha at the grocery store buying a cart full of vegetables must be an amazing chef. He doesn't know that Alpha Louis is feeding all those vegetables to his pet pig.

🤣 That’s the way love goes by bella28

(T, 4k, famous/not famous)  In a world, where soulmate geese are sent to the people who can't figure out who their soulmate is, Harry finds himself stuck with a goose when he is attending a concert of his favourite artist Louis Tomlinson.

🤣 Livin' In A Daydream by @lululawrence

(NR, 3k, roommates) Harry originally had thought that the sock he had pulled out was just another one of Louis’ sport socks he left balled up, but when Harry pulled the cuff out, he realized the actual sole of the sock felt… crusty.

🤣 Charm Your Pants Off by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

(G, 2k, doctor Louis) When Harry hurt himself in front of all of his coworkers, he thought his Christmas Eve couldn’t get any worse. That was, until he ended up in an actual ambulance.

🤣 Into the Woods by @kingsofeverything

(E, 2k, magical realism) Whenever he hikes, Harry keeps an eye out for trees with knots and scars that resemble buttholes. What started as fodder for his silly little Instagram account has become his favorite way to masturbate.

🤣 an honest mistake by @disgruntledkittenface

(NR, 2k, neighbors) Louis has ridden the elevator with his neighbor all week. The first time they speak, there’s a misunderstanding.

🤣 Stole My Heart by @haztobegood

(NR, 2k, strangers to lovers) I just reached into a box of free samples outside that new chicken restaurant. Only it wasn’t free samples. It was a man. Holding a box of chicken nuggets. His chicken nuggets. I stole this man’s food, Niall!

🤣 like a dream but i wasn't asleep by @alwaysxlarrie

(G, 2k, strangers to lovers) Harry just wants to get into his hotel room and go to bed. It should be a simple task, but it’s made more challenging by his complicated relationship with gravity, a booking mixup, and a really hot guy.

🤣 Eyes so blue, Shorts so red by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense

(G, 2k, alien Harry) Harry isn't like any roommate Louis has had before. For one, he doesn't know what a poem is (or skee-ball, for that matter), but luckily for him, Louis doesn't mind answering any and all of his questions.

🤣 Harry, That Kills People by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 2k, organized crime) If there’s one thing that Harry hates, it’s getting his clothes dirty. If there’s one other thing that Harry hates, it’s murder.

- Rare Pairs -

🤣 I Got the Recipe (And It's Called Black Magic) by @fallinglikethis

(T, 10k, Liam/Louis) Louis needs to believe in love again, and with a little help from Almost-Liam Payne, Harry makes it happen.

🤣 The Duke and the Poor Sods Who Work For Him (series) by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 8k, Zayn/Liam, Louis/Harry, Niall/Lewis Capaldi) “I have decided,” Louis Tomlinson, Duke of Elbany announces as he flounces into the room, “that we must have a hermit for our woods!” Liam Payne, not a Duke of much of anything, is very used to statements like these. They make him tired. “A… hermit, sir?”

🤣 driver's license by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

(T, 6k, Zayn/Louis) Louis is taking the exam to get his driver’s licence for the 3rd time (okay, sue him), and the examiner keeps getting under his skin. When they suddenly get stranded in the middle of a snow storm, they have to learn to cooperate.

🤣 With This Wing, I Thee Wed by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 4k, Niall/Louis) Niall crosses his arms and pouts, a little line appearing between his eyebrows. “I want Nandos. I like Nandos.” “And I like my dignity,” Louis mutters.

[astra-ravana]

The Advantage Of Dream Work

Dream work, offers a unique opportunity for magical exploration and personal growth. After all, we do spend up to 25% of our lives dreaming. This alternate reality is a haven for shadow work and magickal practice. By combining ancient techniques and modern understanding of consciousness, you can unlock the potential of your dreamscape.

Understanding the Dream Realm

In witchcraft, dreams are seen as a bridge between the waking and spiritual worlds. They offer glimpses into the subconscious mind, where powerful energies reside.

There are a couple things you can do daily to increase your dream lucidity. Write down your dreams upon waking, no matter how fragmented. Keeping a dream journal enhances dream recall and help you identify recurring symbols and themes. Reality checks are also a practice you should adopt. Pinch your skin, try to read text, check the time, or look at your hands. This trains your mind to question reality, making it easier to recognize dream states.

Techniques for Lucid Dreaming

• Mnemonic Induction of Lucid Dreams (MILD): Before sleep, visualize yourself performing a reality check in a dream. Repeat this intention until you fall asleep.

• Wake Back to Bed (WBTB): Wake up after a few hours of sleep, stay awake for 20-30 minutes, then return to bed. This increases the likelihood of entering a lucid dream state.

• Dream Incubation: Set an intention before sleep, focusing on what you wish to experience or learn in your dream. This can be as simple as "I will have a lucid dream tonight" or a more specific goal.

Prophetic Dreaming

Prophetic dreaming is a potent tool for divination and foresight. These dreams, often vivid and symbolic, offer glimpses into future events or hidden truths. By interpreting the dream's imagery and symbolism, you can gain valuable insights and prepare for what lies ahead. These dreams can range from personal revelations to broader societal trends. To enhance prophetic dreaming, practitioners often employ various techniques, such as dream journaling, meditation, and the use of specific herbs and crystals. By attuning to the subtle energies of the dream realm, witches can unlock the secrets of the future and navigate life with greater wisdom and purpose.

Dream-Walking

Dream-walking is another form of dream work where the dreamer, in a state of lucidity, travels outside their own dreamscape. These journeys can lead them to astral projection, dream-hopping (visiting the dreams of others), travel to the spiritual realms, or even the land of the dead. Dream-walking carries many risks and proper precautions should be taken before even attempting it.

While dream-walking can be learned, it often comes naturally to those who practice it. Techniques are different for each person but it is something akin to hedge-riding, except the other world is accessed in a sleep state. While dangerous, it is an easier (for some) way to access other realms and even the minds of others.

Magical Enhancements

• Herbs: Blue lotus, mugwort, lavender, valerian, dream herb, passion flower, anise, rosemary, devil's claw, lemon balm, wormwood, chamomile, catnip, yarrow, skullcap, damiana, sage, angelica, calamus, tulsi, bay, ashwagandha, jasmine, mullien, cat's claw, jasmine, eye bright, calendula

• Crystals: Labradorite, moonstone, moldavite, amethyst, apatite, hematite, herkimer diamond, lapis lazuli, smokey/black quartz, covellite, charoite, scolecite, epidote, blue goldstone, celestite, fluorite, rainbow obsidian, blue tiger's eye, danburite, iolite, azurite, sodalite, blue kyanite, blue calcite, selenite

• Dream magick: Dream pillows, spell bags/jars, enchanted jewelry, sigils, bath rituals, lunar work, candle spells, incantations, teas

Exploring the Dreamscape

Once you've achieved lucidity, the possibilities are endless. Shadow work, spellcasting, healing, manifestation, spirit communication, baneful magick, necromancy, astral projection, astral creation, and hedge-riding are all easier to do here. Through practice you can learn to access your own astral realm as well as your astral and spiritual bodies. This can give you amazing control and insight in your waking life.

Safety and Ethics

Grounding is essential. Before falling asleep and after waking from a lucid dream or dream journey, ground yourself by connecting with your physical body and surroundings. Consider the whole impact before violating someone's mind or dreamscape/subconscious. Your dreams affect your daily experiences more than most know. Approach dream work with a sense of curiosity and reverence. Remember, lucid dreaming is a skill that takes practice. Be patient with yourself and enjoy the journey of exploring your subconscious mind and beyond.

Common Dream Symbols

Remember, dream interpretation is highly personal. These are general interpretations and may vary based on individual experiences and cultural context. It's often helpful to consider the specific emotions and sensations associated with the dream.

Animals

• Snake: Transformation, healing, sexuality, or hidden fears

• Spider: Creativity, patience, and problem-solving

• Dog: Loyalty, friendship, and protection

• Cat: Independence, intuition, and mystery

• Owl: Wisdom, knowledge, and intuition

• Horse: Power, freedom, and sexuality

• Deer: Sensitivity, gentleness, and intuition

• Bear: Strength, protection, and grounding

• Lion: Power, courage, and leadership

• Wolf: Leadership, family, and persistence

Natural Elements

• Water: Emotions, subconscious, and the flow of life

• Fire: Passion, anger, transformation, and purification

• Earth: Grounding, stability, and physical body

• Air: Intellect, communication, and spiritual connection

Objects and Places

• Teeth: Anxiety, insecurity, or feeling powerless.

• House: Self, family, or emotional state.

• School: Learning, growth, or feeling inadequate.

• Hospital: Illness, fear, or need for healing.

• Flying: Freedom, ambition, or spiritual awakening.

• Falling: Loss of control, fear, or insecurity.

• Keys: Access, opportunity, or unlocking potential.

• Doors: New beginnings, opportunities, or obstacles.

• Bridges: Transition, change, or connecting different aspects of oneself.

Other Symbols

• Death: Change, transformation, or the end of a cycle.

• Pregnancy: Creativity, new beginnings, or potential.

• Nakedness: Vulnerability, shame, or a desire for authenticity.

• Being chased: Fear, anxiety, or avoidance of something.

• Being lost: Confusion, uncertainty, or feeling overwhelmed.

• Being late: Fear of missing out, procrastination, or time management issues.

• Being stuck: Feeling trapped, helpless, or unable to move forward.

To delve deeper into dream interpretation, consider keeping a dream journal, exploring your personal associations with symbology, and  always consider the emotional tone of the dream.

[backwardshatnick]

in which the friendship blossoms into something that is never addressed.

notes: fluff!!! matt and bloom are somewhere around the ages of 15-17 in this. but chat..... i fear i have lost my funny...... click here for series masterlist <3 divider by koosuvi as always!

The high school hallway was sun-warmed, the glow casting a homely shadow to each passerby as the air drifted with a gentle scent of iced coffee, Bath and Body Works body mist and recently mowed grass. The bell was about to ring, signalling the start of the next study period and when it finally did, it had sent all the students scampering to their respective classrooms, lest they get reprimanded with a late slip.

Among the scurrying footsteps of teenagers, stood one stationary boy, posture frigid as his hands fiddled with the blue lock of the small metal compartment. A few rows to his right, a girl had stopped in her tracks staring at him from afar while leaning against a drinking fountain, mind contemplating onto whether she should save his day.

“Why won’t this stupid thing just open?” Matt uttered, frustrated and movement careless as he kept on twisting the damned combination.

Bloom finally approached him, quiet as a mouse but intentions pure.

“Still can’t open it?”

Matt exhaled, “This thing is obviously rigged. Really has been cursed since the 90s.”

“Or maybe you just suck at the left-right-right-left movement,” she answered.

He gave her her way, allowing her to take the lock from his fingers, her nails slightly brushing his fingertips. Matt pretends to not notice and observes Bloom’s magic onto the bolt, finally knocking the locker twice for an extra effect, “There you go.”

“Witch!”

Bloom let out a small laugh, fixing the strap on her backpack before turning her heels, “You’re welcome.”

Ever since the locker antics, they happen to just find each other in each step, as if orbiting just tight enough to graze but never close enough to fall.

Sharing a class in Algebra led to tiny doodles on the corners of each others’ notes.

Being paired for English Literature meant that the shared copy of The Great Gatsby was always plastered with Post-It notes, all scribbled with messy handwriting with promising sentences to meet each other after school when they get separated for their next class.

Let’s get Slurpees soon. - M. P.s.: I’m getting you the cherry. It’s my favourite.

They sat on the curb by the convenience store, Bloom fidgeting with her maroon corduroy skirt, a weak attempt at covering herself more while she sipped on her slush. Her thighs were now closed tight together as she balanced herself on the concrete, her legs pushed to one side to avoid any unwanted accidents.

“Hey,” Matt said, startled as he put his drink on the pavement and fished his own backpack to pull out a white lacrosse jersey, “Take this. It might stink a bit after practice, but at least it’s something to cover you up, kid.”

Somewhere between midterms and exam preparations, Matt tends to find himself sat next to Bloom at the bleachers during lunch. Or whenever he had a break from lacrosse practice, away from his own circle of friends. Sometimes, he would playfully bump her shoulder to which she bumped back, almost toppling each other off the cheap school benches.

“That’s criminal,” Bloom scoffed, “I almost got killed!”

He would laugh at her jokes, letting her head slowly tip onto his shoulder. Her hair slightly tickling his neck. But Matt was a boy of perseverance, though he was not sure entirely why he was that persistent. Something within himself itched, whispering into his ear like an outsider pretending to be his inner voice. His uninvited monologue drowning the slow music which was playing through their shared earphones.

They did not speak whenever they listen to the shared playlists— not that they need to. The rhythm and lyrics were enough to fill in their silent conversation as his hand rested near hers, almost touching. She would notice the way their fingers twitched towards each other, especially the way hers was but suddenly retreating as Matt never grabbed them.

Neither Bloom, nor Matt ever established a label to themselves. They never kissed in public but she would never forget the one time she unlocked Matt’s locker to place a small lip balm wrapped with a pale blue bow, cherry-flavoured just how he likes his Slurpees and his kisses.

And similarly, Matt would sometimes leave her bookmarks, handmade with tiny pressed flowers and carefully laminated with transparent plastic and a small satin ribbon tied through the punched hole. One day it was stalks of baby's breaths, another time it was soft cream roses all arranged on a sliver of recycled card. But it was never complete until he leaves a small note written in matching gel ink, the loopy, slanted penmanship obviously belonging to a confident 11th grader.

She opened her locker, the small white envelope greeting her with a note:

Bloom, because of course I had to. Check inside. Don’t freak out, it’s not drugs. - M :) P.s.: Kid, you really need a proper bookmark, I’m tired of seeing you use those faded paper receipts. P.p.s.: Can you help me out with Geo later? Mr. Finnigan gave me this weird h/w and I know you have a knack for volcanoes & tsunamis.

ꫂ❁ @oopsiedaisydeer @bbgirlmatt @courta13 @mattspillowprincess

[spoiledblogif]

Join the Patreon for chapter demos, shorts, and early chapter releases.

Join the Discord

This is the development blog for the interactive fiction called "The Second Sight", which you can find on itch.io at the link above!

This is my first IF project, although I've been writing original stories and fanfiction for years.

I've included the story description and character profiles from the itch page below the cut.

This blog will be a combination of development info, images and music that I associate with the story, and other musings.

Fair warning, there might be spoilers from the latest chapters here, so I recommend catching up before reading too far.

Asks and submissions are always open.

LAST UPDATED: 03/22/25 (Chapter 7)

(Content and trigger warnings at the bottom.)

You’re an urban legend in a county full of them.  When you were thirteen, you were found passed out in the road by one of the local cops. No missing persons report. No fingerprints on file. No memories. Just a name.

Oh, and some bizarre psychic powers.  You're content with simplicity. You like your isolated cabin and helping Carter track down missing persons.  You know that in theory there are more people like you out there, but you've never wanted to look behind the curtain to find out.

However, with the disappearance of a local teen named Casey Powell and a recent attempt on your foster father's life, your serene, isolated life comes abruptly to its end and a new chapter begins.

✤✤✤

The Second Sight is an urban fantasy story, where you step into the role of a psychic whose strange powers have always separated them from others. Those same powers will drag you down the rabbit hole and into a world that is both familiar and foreign to everything you know. A world filled with magic, witches, fae, demons, and the unknown.

You can immerse yourself in the story by customizing your protagonist's general appearance, choosing how they interact with others, and whether you lean on logic or intuition to problem solve. There are three love interests planned (more may be added depending on player reception and feedback), the genders of which will be selected by the player upon meeting them.

Characters

Jacob Carter

Age: Late forties

Race: Human. Definitely.

Gender: Male

Temperament: Carter radiates grizzled, old bastard energy and despite being the least paternal person in the world, he is your adoptive father. While harsh and aloof on the surface, he is also fiercely protective of you and has bent over backwards to give a decent life to a kid that isn't even his. He doesn't talk about his life before coming to Herman County and you haven't asked him, though that might change soon enough...

✤✤✤ Renard/Rowan

Age: Appears to be in their late twenties or early thirties

Race: Human. Maybe.

Appearance: Tall and slender, white-blonde hair, and gold eyes.

Temperament: Playful and witty, talking to R always feels like a game of cat and mouse and you can never be sure which role is yours. Part sad clown, part trickster, and always maddening to work with, the only things you can be certain of with R is that they probably know what they're doing. Everything else is up in the air.

✤✤✤

Zander/Zora

Age: Late twenties/Early thirties

Race: Human. Mostly.

Appearance: Umber brown skin, black locs, grey eyes 

Temperament: Gentle and resolute, Z isn't what you imagine when you think of an agent of the mysterious Magic and Anomalies Bureau. Kind, soft-spoken, and exceedingly polite, Z is Carter's former apprentice and something about them puts the old man on edge.

✤✤✤

Unknown aka "The Kestrel"

Age: ???

Race: Definitely not human.

Appearance: Tall, beautiful, elegant, with black hair and blue eyes.

Temperament: The Kestrel is a complete unknown. It's impossible to say whether they are a lethal ally or deadly enemy, but either way they are a powerful dreamwalker. You don't know how long they've been watching you, but you're willing to bet that it's been longer than you're comfortable with.

✤✤✤

This story contains sexually suggestive material, violence, talk of abductions and abuse, and mature language. Not recommended for those under 18.

(All visual elements were made using Canva's free assets.)

Join me on Tumblr @spoiledblog

Join me over on Patreon

Join the discord

[breelandwalker]

Magical Oil Recipes - Buffs and Blessings Edition

For anyone looking to brew up a potion for the purposes of augmentation or blessing, here are some recipes I’ve created that you might find useful.

To prepare them, blend the ingredients in such proportions as feels correct for your purposes (or as supplies allow). Use dried material except where indicated. Place a few spoonfuls in a mason jar with a screwtop lid and fill the jar with a bland oil of your choice. (Vegetable oil of the sort you would buy for cooking works fine.) Screw the lid on tightly and shake well to combine, then leave the jar in a dark dry place for 2-4 weeks to steep.

Once steeped, prepare a clean storage bottle (also with a secure lid) and label with the type of oil and the bottling date. Strain the oil through paper towels or cheesecloth to remove the plant material, then bottle immediately. Store away from sunlight and heat for up to one year. Use for spellwork as you see fit.

(Please note that NONE of these potions are meant to be taken internally by any means. Observe all proper safety measures related to glass, fire, and potentially harmful plants as necessary during preparation.)

*- Ingredient is potentially harmful if inhaled or ingested. **- Ingredient should not be used or handled if you are pregnant or nursing.

All-Purpose Blessing Oil For blessing, purification, and consecration.

Lavender

Sweet Basil

Bay Leaf

Patchouli Note: Use Olive Oil for the base.

Brim With Vim Vitality Oil To restore flagging magical energy and clear post-spell haze.

Tangerine (Satsuma) Peel

Cinnamon Stick

Ginger Root

Vervain

Cauldronkeeper Wisdom Oil To enhance intuition and wisdom.

Hazel (leaves or bark)

Elder (berries or bark)

Sage (any color)

Peach Pit (in master bottle) Note: Peach pits contain a small amount of cyanide, which may be released if the pit is broken down. Exercise caution with the finished oil.

Clear the Way Obstacle Remover Oil For overcoming difficulty and attracting new opportunities.

Dried Sumac Berries

Ginger Root

Sweet Basil

Full Moon Lunar Affinity Oil For augmentation of spells attuned to the lunar cycle.

Willow Bark

Jasmine Flowers

Fennel

Mugwort** Note: Use With Caution.

High Noon Solar Affinity Oil For augmentation of spells attuned to the solar cycle.

Calendula Petals

Chamomile

Bay Leaf

Eyebright Note: Use With Caution.

Golden Fields Prosperity Oil For abundance, good fortune, and general well-being.

Sesame or Pumpkin Seeds

Wheat or Barley Kernels

Orange Peel

Honeysuckle

Get Me Through the Day Endurance Oil For a tiny extra boost on those low-energy days.

Lemon Verbena

White Oak Bark

Rosemary

Echinacea**

Hearthside Home Blessing Oil For a comfortable and harmonious home.

Sweet Basil

Vervain

Pine Needles

Willow Bark

Jack-of-all-Trades Work Enhancement Oil For augmentation of workplace abilities.

Sweet Basil

Meadowsweet**

Borage Flowers

Vanilla Bean

Magical Me Power Boost Oil For augmentation of spellcasting.

Ginger Root

Rosemary

Bergamot

Cedar Tips

Steel Backbone Fortitude Oil For bravery and endurance.

Blue Vervain

Pine Needles

Cedar Tips

Yarrow**

Truthteller Divination Oil For augmentation of divinatory practices.

Evening Primrose**

Hibiscus Flowers

Celery Seeds

Tea Leaves

Watchful Eye Viewing Oil To enhance powers of observation.

Grape Leaf

Lemon Balm

Rosemary

Celery Seed (or dried leaf from stalks) Note: Do not apply to skin around eyes. Do not apply directly to eyeballs either.

Should the reader require supplies, I recommend the following:

Penn Herb Company

Starwest Botanicals

Bulk Apothecary

Mountain Rose Herbs

Specialty Bottle

Image Credit - VeraPetruk

All recipes are © 2017 Bree NicGarran, published in Pestlework: A Book of Magical Powders & Oils. Please check out the book if you would like more recipes.

If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar, tune in to my podcast Hex Positive, or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop.

[greenwitchcrafts]

April 2025 Witch Guide

New Moon: April 27th

First Quarter: April 4th

Full moon: April 12th

Last Quarter: April 20th

April Budding Moon

Also known as:  Breaking Ice Moon(Algonquin), Budding Moon of Plants and Shrubs(Tlingit), Budding Moon, Growing Moon, Frog Moon(Cree), Moon When the Geese Lay Eggs(Dakota), Moon of the Red Grass Appearing(Oglala), Moon When the Streams Are Again,  Navigable(Dakota), Moon When the Ducks Come Back(Lakota), Pink Moon, Planters Moon, Sucker Moon(Anishinaabe)

Element: Air

Zodiac:  Aries & Taurus

Nature spirts: Plant Faeries

Deities: Anahita, Bast, Ceres, Cernunnos, Hathor, Herne, Ishtar, Kali, Tawaret & Venus

Animals: Bear & Wolf

Birds: Hawk & Magpie

Colors: Blue, brown, crimson, gold & green

Trees:  Bay, forsythia, hazel, lilac, pine & willow

Herbs: Basil, chives, dill, dogwood, dragon's blood, fennel, milkweed & thistle

Flowers: Daisy, dandelion, lilac, geranium & sweetpea

Scents: Bay, bergamot, patchouli & pine

Stones:  Angelite, beryl, diamond, garnet, malachite, quartz, ruby, sapphire, sard, selenite & zircon

Issues, intentions & powers:  Beginnings, fertility, growth & spirituality

Energy: Authority, balance, beginnings, change, leadership, opportunities, overcoming obstacles, personal skill development, rebirth, self-evaluation, temper control & willpower

April is commonly referred to as The Pink Moon, this name comes from the early spring bloom of a wildflower native to eastern North America: Phlox subulata, commonly known as creeping phlox or moss phlox. This flower, often called “moss pink,” was in full bloom around April’s full Moon.

• The full Moon on April 12, 2025, occurs just before reaching apogee.

Apogee refers to the point when the Moon is farthest from Earth. When the full Moon occurs near this point, it’s classified as a “micromoon”—the opposite of a supermoon. Since this full Moon happens about 22 hours before apogee, it will appear slightly smaller and dimmer than usual.

Other celebrations:

• Walpurgis Night - April 30th

Also known as: May Eve

The origins of the holiday date back to pagan celebrations of fertility rites & the coming of spring. After the Norse were Christianized, the pagan celebration became combined with the legend of St. Walburga, an English-born nun who lived at Heidenheim monastery in Germany & later became the abbess there. Saint Walpurga was hailed by the Christians of Germany for battling “pest, rabies, & whooping cough as well as against witchcraft”. Christians prayed to God through the intercession of Saint Walpurga in order to protect themselves from witchcraft, as Saint Walpurga was successful in converting the local populace to Christianity. Although it is likely that the date of her canonization is purely coincidental to the date of the pagan celebrations of spring, people were able to celebrate both events under church law without fear of reprisal.

Walpurgis Night is still a traditional holiday celebrated on April 30th in northern Europe & Scandinavia. In Sweden typical holiday activities include the singing of traditional spring folk songs & the lighting of bonfires. In Germany the holiday is celebrated by dressing in costumes, playing pranks on people & creating loud noises meant to keep evil at bay. Many people also hang blessed sprigs of foliage from houses & barns to ward off evil spirits, or they leave pieces of bread spread with butter & honey, called ankenschnitt, as offerings for phantom hounds.

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

Wikipedia

Encyclopedia Britannica

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Encyclopedia britannica

Llewellyn 2025 magical almanac Practical magic for everyday living

[frraum]

The OurCats team

(a play on "outcast") unites characters bound by a common trait: rebellion against established rules.

OurCats is more than just a team; it's a group of unique fairies united by a desire to break the rules and live on their own terms. They are linked by a rebellious spirit and a yearning for freedom, a pursuit for which each has paid a price.

Kuro (20): (Silhouette in the art) For now, a mystery shrouded in darkness. Soon we will learn what brought this fairy to the ranks of OurCats.

Its founder is Alisa, a former angel, a fairy of cold flame.

Alisa (20): Alisa was Niru's guardian angel, but, demanding freedom, she went against the heavenly system. Alisa's banishment caused Niru's misfortune – an accident that cost him an arm and part of his memory. In the world of Magix, Alisa became Niru's caregiver, striving to be his true friend, sister, and protector.

Alisa reluctantly speaks of her past. Before life in the mortal world, she lived in the spirit world, born to a mortal mother – a keeper of cold flame. War destroyed their kingdom, and only those with magical energy entered the spirit world, gaining an angelic form. In Magix, Alisa finally unleashed her magical abilities.

Alisa is a hyperactive and cheerful girl, yet surprisingly modest. Her emotions bubble, bursting out in bright flashes of laughter (often nervous), irritation, or sudden embarrassment. An inability to control herself leads her to accidentally overstep boundaries or say something inappropriate, after which she instantly retreats into silent awkwardness. This expressiveness is her defining characteristic: Alisa expresses joy with leaps, and irritation with a torrent of rapid speech and clumsy jokes.

Sometimes an evening's joy is followed by a whole day of worrying about looking foolish. She sincerely strives to connect with everyone and is deeply upset if she fails. Awkwardness is her constant companion: falls, clumsy words that make her self-conscious – all part of her character.

Alisa's paradox lies in her love for brightness and brilliance: she adores cartoons and horror movies, hates fashion, but enjoys creating her own unique looks, using glitter and pastel eyeshadow, drawing patterns underneath, while avoiding full makeup.

She loves 2000s fashion but hates stilettos.

Her transformation outfit is pink and coral.

Emberly (19): A blue-eyed blonde with a bob haircut, a fairy of jewels and an heiress to the royal family, but she has no desire to be a princess.

This glamorous and active busybody, who adores dancing, dreams of becoming a dancer on a television show. Her cheerful and friendly nature is sometimes hidden behind a mask of arrogance – a tactic developed in childhood to protect herself from pressure. Despite this, Emberly respects herself and her freedom. Her wardrobe is an explosion of blues and pinks: trendy tops, mini-skirts with short leggings, bracelets, earrings, and sneakers.

Emberly can be too loud, although she tries to follow etiquette – childhood traumas prevent her from always controlling this. She's squeamish, afraid of insects and reptiles, loves gossip, horoscopes, and elaborate schemes.

Despite her craving for attention, she doesn't put herself above others. Her mischievous and goofy nature unexpectedly combines with the ability to roll her eyes and point out someone else's foolishness, making her resemble a typical princess (it's best not to mention this!). Sometimes she's a total tomboy!

Emberly's magical outfit is a blue shorts and mid-sole boots.

Sylvia (Syl, 19): A fairy of liquids, with blue-green eyes and red hair accented with yellow streaks. A former witch, banished from Pixieville for experimenting with blood magic on pixies. This experience, however, gave her a unique bond with the elf, Uni, who shares her love of mischief and adores fashion.

Syl is an intelligent high-achiever, but her sharpness and penchant for sarcasm hide her loyalty to her friends. She dreams of completely controlling her magic, including manipulating liquids and the blood magic available to her during the full moon. Her everyday look is a sleeveless rainbow sweater and a denim skirt.

She adores toads and frogs, constantly bringing them to her room after walks and training in the swamps. However, they invariably escape, and Syl loses them.

The girl is quick-tempered, but tries not to cross the line, limiting herself to barbs and cutting remarks. At other times, she might unexpectedly crack a joke, consult with her friends, or sincerely share something personal. She treats those close to her with respect, genuinely ashamed of her outbursts, although admitting this is difficult for her.

Sylvia strives to achieve maximum power to prove to everyone that she's not crazy or weird, as many believe. Although… maybe she is a little weird, but also powerful!

Her transformation outfit is emerald green, with a short skirt and boots.

Arian (18): A fairy of nightmares, a dark-skinned girl with white and coral hair. Unlike the others, Arian is the most level-headed member of the team. A former royal guard, she was banished because of the power of her magic, capable of harming those around her.

Arian is straightforward, kind, responsive, and sometimes amusingly pedantic. Her love of glamour contrasts with her rationality.

From a wealthy family, Arian adores luxury and glamour, yet remains sincere and natural. She's ready to support and advise, although she rarely asks for help, considering herself strong and without weaknesses. Her pride and joy is a pink limousine, which, however, she can't drive. When nervous, Arian heavily applies lipstick.

Brave and responsible, she isn't squeamish unless it threatens her expensive dresses and impeccable manicure; her hair is always perfectly styled. For Arian, a true beauty is someone who can stand up for themselves.

Therefore, she rejects any advances. Her goal is to be glamorous for herself and everyone, not for someone's attention. Even in critical situations, she strives to maintain calm and composure.

A former royal guard, Arian was banished after her powers were deemed too dangerous and traumatic for others. Skilled in combat, she prefers to fight with her feet to avoid damaging her manicure. At night, Arian accumulates the nightmares of those near her in her amulet. The stronger the nightmare, the more powerful the monster she can materialize from it in reality.

The presence of witches in her family has resulted in a partially dark nature to her magic, considered light only due to her fairy lineage. Arian herself doesn't want to be a witch, despising the mundane magic and tasteless fashion of witches.

Her transformation outfit is a vibrant purple suit with long boots.

Together, these five fairies form the unique OurCats team, ready to challenge the world, protecting their freedom and friendship.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Can I get ROR guys (Thor, Korjuro, Qin and Hades) with Bayonetta Reader?

I went with her Bayonetta 2 design. It's one of my favorite designs of her.

Bayonetta is portrayed as a beautiful woman with a slender yet curvy bewitching figure. She has black hair, gray eyes and a beauty mark on her chin. Bayonetta's hair has been cut short and her glasses have a ribbon design near the lenses. She retains her skin-tight bodysuit, though the design has been radically altered. The suit is more gray in color with jagged patterns resembling thorns and a frilly collar. She has sharp shoulder pads and a cloak of hair over her chest, as well as triangular earrings. The palms of her gloves are blue with frills at the wrists. The back of her suit features a diamond shaped opening, and several diamond cutouts on her legs.

Powers

Bayonetta has an unprecedented skill for the Bullet Arts and shows near mastery of a new weapon whenever she picks it up. Her combat skills are brutal yet graceful. She also appears to be extremely perceptive, able to evade attacks from all directions through anticipating her enemy's movements in battle. She has immense superhuman strength and endurance, being able to toss a satellite back at Balder several times and headbutt an entire skyscraper thrown at her by the former, as well as using only her lower body to redirect an even larger satellite at Aesir. She is also able to effortlessly lift the likes of a Belief and block and hold a thrusting attack from a Valiance; she also was able to physically toss back Fortitudo with the aid of her mother, Rosa. She possesses superhuman speed and agility, allowing her to perform numerous acrobatic feats with ease, and able to fight on par with Jeanne, whom was stated to be either just as or stronger than her. She also can lift a light post and physically overpower the likes of Alraune.

Her physical skills, combined with her magic, makes her capable of defeating countless hordes of forces from Paradiso and Inferno. She also manages to hold her own against opponents that overpower her such as the likes of Loptr (and him as the ascended and reborn Aesir)and Jubileus, The Creator, which, in order to be truly defeated, required the aid of another. She also possesses longevity and doesn't seem to age.

As an Umbra Witch, Bayonetta possess varying powerful magics that assist her in her daily life and allows her to fight against even the most powerful of beings. As an Umbra Witch, she is easily capable of seeing the other realm known as Purgatorio and entering it at will. Skilled in the Dark Arts, Bayonetta also possesses some magical abilities unrelated to the dark arts, such as freezing the moisture in the air to form a spear in an attempt to impale her opponent.

Dark Arts & Magic Techniques

• Umbran Climax & Serious Mode: Techniques that allow Bayonetta to enter into an ascended state of power. Both techniques allow her to continually manifest the limbs of various infernal demons and increase her damage output. In Umbran Climax, she also gains the capability to perform "Infernal Weaves" and even recover her health while in that state.

• Witch Time: Bayonetta is capable of using Witch Time to speed herself up, causing enemies to appear to move in slow-motion. This Dark Art is capable of allowing her of countering the likes of Light Speed used by a sage. Furthermore, she is able to "stack" over Witch Time to counter another witch and even a angel.

• Beast Within: A magic technique that allows transformation into various animals.

• Panther Within

• Crow Within

• Bat Within

• Snake Within

• Witch Walk: Bayonetta can use the Witch Walk technique, allowing her the power to defy gravity and walk on any vertical or horizontal surface during a full moon or on select devices created by Lord Aesir.

• Wicked Weaves: Using her hair as a conduit, Bayonetta can use Wicked Weaves to summon forth various demons and also summon forth their limbs to attack.

• Infernal Weaves: An even more powerful variant used during Umbran Climax. At the end of her combos using Wicked Weaves, Bayonetta summons a full demon for a large area-of-effect finisher.

• Infernal Kiss: This allows her to indirectly to control various machines at will, such as in Bayonetta 2, when she blew a kiss at the Cessna-like small plane that contains Enzo while on her way to Fimbulventr before jumping off. Despite Enzo's fumbling, the small plane actually made it all the way to the city she lived in and was only destroyed by angels. This is in contrast to direct control, with which she can shove her middle finger through any machine key holes to take control, such as Enzo's car or even the witches' power walkers.

• Alchemy: Bayonetta is able to gather crystallized magical compounds such as Mandragora Roots, Baked Geckos and Unicorn Horns to concoct lollipops. These can bolster her power, render her impervious to all damage, or simply restore her health or magic.

• Healing Factor: When being stabbed by Luka while being in Strider form in the third game that would normally be fatal for a normal human, it is shown that Bayonetta can heal from the wound in a few seconds.

Torture Attacks

Bayonetta is capable of using special attacks which can deal massive damage to most forces of Paradiso and Inferno. By chanting in Enochian, she can summon various objects to potentially finish her enemies.

Personality

Bayonetta described as nonchalant and is perceived as somewhat callous towards others, such as Enzo, whom she often disregards. Throughout the first game, she's shown to enjoy fighting angels in a playful yet brutal manner, maintaining her cool and even tends to banter with the more serious angels such as the Auditio, as well as Infernal Demons.

Bayonetta tends to enjoy using her sexuality to taunt and tease her enemies and friends alike. She tends to operate alone and prefers to not get encumbered by other people, at least initially. She can also be construed as somewhat impatient, especially towards the more "talkative type" of enemies she encounters such as that of Temperantia and Father Balder.

Despite coming off as callous, Bayonetta has also expressed genuine care and sympathy. It's witnessed that she's done her best to explain to Luka in the past that his father's death wasn't her fault and has been seen taking his venting of anger and frustration to heart. Despite claiming to dislike children, she becomes fiercely protective of her younger self, as well as Loki in Bayonetta 2.After rekindling her friendship with Jeanne, she was willing to risk going down to Inferno to rescue her, placing the blame on herself for not foreseeing Gomorrah's attack in time. She also dislikes being seen emotionally vulnerable; in one instance, Loki wouldn't wake up after she got him out of a lake, making her panic before he woke up laughing, and she kicked him for making her worry. Another is when she saved Jeanne from Alraune; her soul wouldn't wake up, making Bayonetta fear that she had lost her friend, but Jeanne wakes up and she immediately regains her composure.

She is also not above expressing outright anger and hatred, having done so for both her father and Alraune. Despite her close connection to her father, upon re-learning her memories concerning his supposed actions of starting the Witch Hunts, she denounced him. In Bloody Fate, she goes even further and blames him for the death of her mother. However, her hatred for her father dissipated upon learning the truth of her mother's death at Loptr's hands and willingly called him "Daddy" one last time before he sacrificed himself to contain Loptr.

I’ve only recently started to get into Bayonetta, mainly because of the 3rd game because I heard an awesome soundtrack, Fertile Rondo, and she is quite a wild character, isn’t she? I will try my best with this!

-It was strange, having a witch in Valhalla, especially one so powerful such as you, but you had proved that you were a strong warrior, one worthy of being in Valhalla.

-You were very extravagant, from your outfits and shoes to your fighting style, using magic and using your hair to fight, sometimes winding up completely nude when you would put your back into your attacks, using contracts with demons, and using guns.

-Many couldn’t help but like you, mainly because you were true to yourself, not willing to compromise for anyone, living your second life in Valhalla the way you wanted to, and you had no filter, you always called things how you saw them, and always called other out on their BS if you knew they were full of it.

-That’s what led you to (Love), who was impressed with not only your power and strength as a warrior, but your personality and humor as well- you were the perfect package!

-Despite being so sexy and alluring towards others, you were incredibly loyal, you never let your gaze wander, and you would always shut anyone who was flirting with you down instantly, not willing to let anyone have the chance to steal you away from (Love).

-(Love) adored you but sometimes you did fluster him, when you would hug him from behind, your arms draped over and around his neck, your chest pressing into the back of his head as you cooed so sweetly in his ear, he always wound up quite frazzled and riled up- but you couldn’t help it- he was so cute when he got like this!

-You liked watching him fight, you would always look like a predatory studying your prey, your gaze unwavering which did unnerve him at first, but now he’s grown used to it and your antics, but every now and then you will make him flustered, watching him so intently, that he would feel almost self-conscious, like you were undressing him with your eyes, which technically you were- he was just too cute for his own good!

-You rarely fought anymore, as you felt like there weren’t many in Valhalla that could give you the challenge you desired- the humans were just that- humans, no matter the strength and skills they had, and many of the gods seemed almost intimidated to fight you, thanks to your contracted demons.

-Every now and then, some of the gods would come to you, seeking the same that you sought out, a challenge, and would ask you for a fight.

-There were some you didn’t give the time of day to, mainly because they would try to make demands of you, like ‘if I win let’s go out on a date’ like you weren’t in a serious relationship!

-On the other hand, there were some, like Hercules, that you knew only wanted a serious fight with you, demanding nothing from you, as he respected the relationship you had with (Love).

-Your fights always drew a large crowd, mainly because you sometimes would lose your clothes when you fought, something (Love) was rather annoyed with and you didn’t like seeing your lover so upset, so you started fighting only in secluded areas so only Hercules or other worthy warriors would see something like that if they forced your hand.

-You loved to tease (Love) sometimes, when he would get jealous if someone else was able to see you, you would always cover him with so many kisses that his brain would melt, leaving him grinning with a goofy smile on his lips while you were licking yours as if you had the most delicious meal.

-(Love) knew despite the sexy and confident personality you liked to display, you were a very kind person, knowing that you sensitive with some things, like with Jeanne whom you were very close with, despite your rebuttals that you weren’t.

-He sees that you are close to the ones you truly care about, even if you don’t always show it and even if you try to deny it, it’s the part of you that not many get to see, but you trust (Love) to not saying anything about your vulnerability when you allow yourself to be weak around him, like you were a normal person.

-You enjoyed being in Valhalla, being with (Love), and you were never bored, that’s for sure!

[dinolich]

Gwen Fun Facts

She is a picky eater

After Jarrahdale’s grimoire is destroyed, Gwen starts keeping one of her own. It’s in the early stages, lots of notes and things crossed out, but it has plenty of room to grow with her

Dyed her hair pink one single time, and it never faded

Her favorite color is purple

Never bothered to make real friends at school, especially after meeting Sloane and Miles. Kids didn’t take kindly to her mean streak and prickly personality. This combined with keeping her witch powers secret has made her difficult to get along with until recently. In her mind, it was easier to just stop trying

Non-magical hobbies include, skateboarding, virtual pet sites/forums (ie neopets), thrifting and DIYing weird decorations and trinkets for her room

She likes to draw, but it’s mostly doodles in notebooks of spooky things like creepy eyes and bats in the corners, sometimes sketches of her virtual pets

Has tried every single candy and slushie flavor at the local Mr. Stoppy’s. Her favorites are sour gummies and blue raspberry respectively

Loves strange and unusual animals, but despite this her favorite animal is cats. Unfortunately her mom won’t let her have any pets.

Gwen’s biggest hurdles with magic are casting without thinking and punching outside of her range. But she’s learning to slow down, and bite off what she can actually chew!