#chaos magic reader

[rizzlesregal13]

Maybe Using Magic Isn’t That Bad… Not When It’s Just The Two Of Us

***NSFW - MDNI***

Agatha x Reader 💜

With the Saturday night dance party over, and Nicki & Ella finally tucked up in bed, what started as playful teasing quickly turns into something more...especially when your magic gets involved.

A/N: I had no intention for this to decend into smut central… it was supposed to be cute and fluffy… clearly my mind had other ideas. Oopsie 🙈😏

Saturday evenings in our house were always “something”.

Not the “witchcraft and chaos” kind of “something” Agatha revelled in... well, not just that... but the good kind. The kind where our living room became a dance floor, the music was too loud, on this occasion Pink Pony Club, a small disco ball spun, and any sense of decorum flew right out the window.

And tonight...was no exception.

Ella was perched on my hip, giggling uncontrollably as I spun and tipped her in time with the beat. Her little hands clung to my shoulders, her brunette curls bouncing with every move. She wasn’t even trying to dance anymore, she was just enjoying the ride, possibly thinking I was her very own “pink pony”.

Nicki, on the other hand, was locked in an ambitious battle with Agatha, attempting a step-cross-leg manoeuvre that neither of them were doing particularly well at. Agatha towered over him, her longer legs working against Nicki’s as he stubbornly tried to keep up and not trip over her feet.

The result? Absolute, silliness.

“Kid, if I stretch you just a teensy bit, I think we might nail this,” Agatha teased, her blue eyes flashing with mirth.

“Hey! No magic!” I shot her a look, though my amusement was hard to hide. “This is a magic-free dance floor.”

Agatha huffed dramatically, clutching her chest as if I had just shot her.

“You wound me, hon. Truly.”

“You’ll live.” I smirked, twirling Ella one last time before setting her down so she could run to Nicki and Agatha.

Nicki, determined to master the step, dragged Ella into the mix, her tiny feet mimicking his with unwavering enthusiasm. This was what it was all about. Not the spells, not magic, not the thrill of bending reality to our will.

Just this… the four of us.

I watched as Agatha’s expression softened, her ever-present smirk shifting into something… gentler, something unguarded. There were no sharp smirks, no teasing, no wicked little grins that she wore like armour. Just her, just Agatha, playing with our kids. Being soft in a way she rarely let herself be… that very few people got to see.

And god, it kills me how much I love her in moments like this.

Because I know her past. I know she isn’t perfect. I know she’s done terrible things, that she’s hurt people, taken what she’s wanted without caring about the consequences. And yet, here she is, with her arm around our son and daughter making up crazy dances, as laughter ripples out of all three of them, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

She caught me watching her, and in true Agatha fashion, cocked a knowing brow.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

She left Nicki & Ella, and prowled toward me, slipping an arm around my waist before I could protest.

“You were having a moment.”

I rolled my eyes. “I was not.”

“Oh, you so were.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What was it this time? Overwhelmed by my stunning dance skills? Enchanted by my presence?”

“More like overwhelmed by your complete lack of rhythm.”

Agatha gasped. “How dare you.”

I laughed, wrapping my arms around her neck. “Face it, you’re powerful, brilliant, ridiculously sexy… but… you dance like a drunk cat.”

She grinned. “But you love me anyway.”

I sighed dramatically. “Against my better judgment.”

The music swelled around us, but for a moment, it was just the two of us. No magic, no responsibilities—just Agatha, in my arms, her hands resting at my hips like they belonged there.

“I love you,” she murmured, so low I barely caught it.

My heart did that stupid, crazy thing where it forgot how to function properly, missing a beat. Of course I knew she loved me, but those three little words were never something she threw about easily.

“I love you too.”

Nicki’s voice broke through before she could kiss me.

“Ew! Mom and Mama are being gross again!”

Ella giggled, clapping her hands over her eyes.

“We have to do something about their timing.” Agatha groaned, burying her face in my shoulder.

I just laughed, tugging her back into the dance party and the chaos of our two kids, before she could plot something truly wicked.

***

It had gotten late. We’d managed to get the kids in bed fairly hassle free. Nicki had crashed mid-sentence, mumbling something about being the best dancer in the family, and Ella had insisted on one last bedtime story before her eyes, that were so like Agatha's, betrayed her and fluttered shut.

Now, the house was still. Not silent… never truly silent with the lingering energy of two overactive kids, but still enough that I could finally relax. Agatha stood in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of wine before handing me one, the deep red liquid catching the dim kitchen light as I took a slow sip.

I leaned back against the counter, eyes drifting through the open archway into the living room; a battlefield of discarded blankets, scattered toys, the disco ball still spinning, and upturned cushions.

Agatha followed my gaze, her smirk lazy, knowing.

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

She was right. It could wait. But something about ending the night with the house in disarray made my fingers twitch… my magic spark. So, with a subtle flick, the room righted itself. Cushions fluffed and stacked back on to the sofa, the coffee table straightened, the disco ball stopped and materialised inside the cupboard. The craziness of earlier now looked like nothing more than a memory.

I barely turned my head before I felt it—Agatha’s eyes on me, her smirk widening as she took a slow sip of her wine.

“Using magic, are we?”

I shrugged, pretending I didn’t feel the way her gaze sent warmth curling through me.

“I like waking up to a clean house.”

Agatha set her glass down with an amused chuckle, stepping into my space, her hands resting lightly on the counter on either side of me.

“Mm. Sure. That’s the reason.”

I arched a brow. “And what other reason would there be?”

Her smirk deepened. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you just enjoy it.”

She leaned in, her voice dropping just enough to make my breath catch.

“Maybe it’s not so bad, using what you were born with.”

I rolled my eyes, tilting my head back slightly.

“Don’t start.”

“Start what?” she teased, her lips just brushing against my jaw before pulling back. “I’m just saying, for someone who claims they don’t like usung their magic freely, who would rather do things the “normal” way, you sure didn’t hesitate.”

I huffed, lifting my glass to my lips again. “It’s practical.”

“It’s magic.”

“Magic can be practical.”

Agatha tilted her head, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the countertop beside me.

“And yet, when I use it to summon a bottle of wine instead of walking to the kitchen, you give me that look.”

I bit back a smile. “That’s different.”

She scoffed, feigning offence. “How?”

I swirled the wine in my glass, meeting her blue gaze with a knowing smirk of my own. “Because when you use magic, you always take it a step too far.”

Agatha clutched her chest, staggering back a step.

“How dare you?”

“Example, you magicked Mrs Hart’s garden gnome into an actual gnome, Agatha.”

“In my defence, he was boring, and Nicki and Ella loved it.”

I shook my head, laughing softly as she stepped back into my space. She nudged my glass aside just enough to steal a quick sip before pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“Mm,” she hummed, savouring the wine. “Practical or not, I like it when you use magic.”

I let out a small sigh, resting my forehead against hers for just a moment. “You would.”

She grinned. “Of course, I would.”

I watched as Agatha picked up her wine glass, her fingers curling around the delicate stem. She took a slow sip, eyes locked onto mine over the rim, that ever-present smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Then, without a word, she turned to walk away.

What happened next… I don’t think I could have controlled it even if I’d wanted to. Let’s just say that deep rooted instinct “that I was born with” kicked in.

Agatha barely had time to process before she was spinning back toward me, my magic curling around her like an invisible ribbon. She stopped just inches away, her blue eyes flickering with something between amusement and intrigue.

“Oh?” she murmured, head tilting as that wicked smirk continued to play on her lips. “Now who’s taking things a step too far?”

I stepped closer, slow, deliberate, my own smirk mirroring hers.

“Did you think you were going somewhere?”

Her eyes dipped to my mouth for just a fraction of a second before locking back onto mine, her breath steady but charged.

“Maybe. But you seem to have other plans.”

I lifted my hand, magic humming in my fingertips as I plucked her wine glass from her grip without touching it, letting it float over to rest beside mine on the countertop. She watched it land, then turned back to me with an arched brow.

“Oh, look at you,” she murmured, voice dripping with something almost sultry. “Using magic without a care.”

I laughed, stepping in until there was barely any space between us. “Seems you’re a terrible influence.”

“I certainly try,” she whispered, eyes glinting in the low kitchen light.

She didn’t pull away. Neither did I.

Instead, I reached up, fingers ghosting along the sleeve of her deep green sweater, tracing the wool before slipping lower, to the warmth of her wrist. Agatha let out a breath, not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh, as I slowly walked her back toward the counter.

Her hands found my hips first, then my waist, her touch familiar, teasing, taunting.

“So,” she drawled, eyes never leaving mine, “what exactly are your plans?”

I grinned, tilting my head slightly as I let my magic flare again—not enough to startle her, but enough to send a playful spark up her spine.

“I thought you liked it when I used magic.”

Agatha let out a low hum of approval.

“Oh, I do.”

“Then stop talking.”

And for once, she actually listened.

I ran my fingers back up her sleeve, slow and deliberate, letting my magic tingle against her skin like the faintest brush of static. Agatha inhaled sharply, her breath catching for just a moment—not because she was surprised, but because she liked it.

I smirked, letting my fingers trail higher, up the curve of her neck, where I felt the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath my touch. Then her jaw, where she tilted her head slightly into it, anticipation curling between us. And finally, across her lips.

Her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, her breath warm against my fingertips.

“You’re playing with fire, Y/N,” she murmured, lips parting just enough for her voice to slip through, low and dangerous.

I hummed in response, trailing my fingers back down to her collarbone, then pressing my palm flat against her chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath beneath it.

“Funny,” I mused, tilting my head. “I thought you were the dangerous one.”

Agatha’s eyes blinked open, dark and smouldering, her smirk creeping back. “Oh, I am,” she purred. “But you… you’re finally starting to realise that you are too.”

I leaned in, close enough that my lips barely brushed hers, our noses ghosting, but not quite closing the distance. The air between us crackled, magic humming, but neither of us were in a hurry to break it.

Then, because I couldn’t resist, I let my magic flare again, just a whisper of power tracing along her skin, making her shiver.

Agatha let out a quiet, breathy laugh.

“Oh, I really like this side of you.”

I grinned. “Thought you might.”

She made a sound—half approval, half impatience, before she finally closed the space between us, her lips pressing against mine in a kiss that was slow but intent, teasing but undeniable with what she wanted.

My fingers curled into the wool covering her body, pulling her in, and Agatha let me—for now. But I knew her. Knew that any second now, she’d turn the tables, take control, push back just to see how far I’d let her go.

That was the game she played, we played.

The one we both loved.

I fingered the hem of her sweater, my touch slow, teasing, before I finally tugged it upward. She didn’t stop me—didn’t hesitate—just lifted her arms to let me pull it over her head and toss it aside.

The moment it was gone, she was on me again, her hands slipping around my waist as she pulled me into another kiss. This one was deeper, more intent, her lips parting against mine as if she had no interest in keeping space between us.

When she finally broke away, her breath warm against my skin, I felt it... A shift, a pulling in the fabric of my shirt that I wasn’t responsible for.

I glanced down just in time to see my buttons undoing themselves, one by one, the fabric falling open to expose my skin.

My breath hitched, heat pooling low in my stomach, and when I lifted my gaze, Agatha was watching me with a smirk—one that matched my own.

“I see we’re not bothering with patience tonight,” I murmured, my voice lower than I intended.

Agatha hummed, reaching out to trace a finger along the navy lace of my bra, her touch featherlight.

“I’d argue I’ve been very patient,” she countered, her voice dripping with amusement. “You’re the one who started playing with magic.”

I bit my lip, watching the way her fingers teased at the lace, her gaze dark, considering.

“So what happens next?” I asked, my own hands slipping to her waist, feeling the warmth of her bare skin beneath my palms.

Agatha leaned in, her lips barely ghosting over mine, her breath sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

“Oh, hon,” she purred, her fingers slipping lower, dragging over my stomach with just enough pressure to make me ache.

“What doesn’t happen next?”

I couldn’t stop the involuntary moan that slipped from my lips at Agatha’s words. That wicked, knowing smirk of hers deepened, as if she had expected that reaction, as if she had been waiting for it.

But two could play that game.

My fingers twitched, and with a quiet pop, the button of her jeans came undone. A second later, the zipper slid down in a slow, deliberate motion, the sound filling the space between us.

Agatha’s breath hitched, just barely, but I caught it.

I didn’t stop there.

Stepping back, I let my magic press against her jeans, coaxing them to slip down from her hips, past the curve of her thighs, pooling at her feet.

She didn’t move to stop me. Didn’t move at all, except to lift her feet free. She stood there, her lip caught between her teeth as she watched me with blown, approving eyes.

Oh, she really liked me using magic—especially like this.

“Interesting,” she murmured, her voice like silk, like sin. “You do have a wicked streak, after all.”

I took a slow step forward, closing the distance I had put between us. My fingers found her waist, my touch light but firm.

“You bring it out in me,” I admitted, tilting my head slightly, watching her expression shift... anticipation, desire, something close to pride.

Agatha’s hands found my bare skin, her touch sending a fresh wave of heat through me.

“I love bringing things out in you,” she purred, fingers trailing along the back band of my bra, her magic sparking faintly against my skin, making me shiver.

I swallowed, my own smirk returning.

“Then you’re going to love what happens next.”

Her eyes flickered with amusement, challenge… hunger.

“Oh, darling,” she whispered, lips brushing against mine just enough to tease. “Show me.”

Happily.

I trailed my fingers over her chest, skimming over the soft skin above the fabric of her black bra, feeling the way her breath caught beneath my touch. My magic followed, leaving behind a faint, tingling sensation as it traced between her cleavage, along her ribs, down her stomach, dipping over her hip before gliding up the inside of her thigh.

Agatha let out a breath, her body shivering, reacting slightly under the sensation, but she didn’t stop me.

Not yet.

I smirked, watching her closely, revelling in the way she responded, the way her lips parted just so, the way her pupils continued to grow as she watched me.

When I reached the edge of her panties, I let my magic surge, just a bit stronger, the warmth of it teasing against her, slipping beneath the material.

That’s when I felt it... her fingers curling firmly around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

My gaze snapped up to hers, meeting those sharp, knowing eyes.

Agatha’s grip was firm but not forceful, her smirk just as wicked as before, but now there was something else behind it—a need for her to be in control.

“Ah, ah, not yet” she murmured, tilting her head, her voice thick with something that sent heat pooling low between my thighs. I swallowed, my heart pounding, my breath uneven.

“Stopping me already?”

Her fingers tightened, her smirk deepening. “I never said stop,” she purred, leaning in just enough that I could feel her breath against my lips. “I said not yet.”

A shiver ran through me, her words like a spark catching fire.

Agatha slowly, deliberately, lifted my wrist, guiding my hand away from where I had been heading, dragging it instead up her body, pressing my palm against the centre of her chest, just above her heart.

“Patience,” she whispered, pressing a teasing kiss to my jaw.

I let out a slow breath, my fingers twitching against her skin.

She was going to make me work for this.

I smirked, pressing my body closer, my hips tilting forward against hers, my lips grazing her ear.

“I hope you know,” I murmured, my own voice dangerously low, my magic skirting lightly against her exposed skin, “I never lose.”

Agatha’s laughter was dark, promising.

“Then you’re going to love losing to me.”

I let out a slow breath, trailing my free hand back over her body, fingers brushing over her skin, my magic following like a whisper of heat. Agatha shivered beneath my touch, her lips parting slightly, her grip on my wrist loosening. I could feel it now…the crackling energy between us, the push and pull, magic flaring like a slow-burning fire. It felt reckless, deliciously so.

Because the kids were just upstairs… and they could come down at any moment.

And yet, neither of us stopped.

Agatha’s magic sparked, brushing against me like an invisible caress, and before I could process the shift, I felt it—the clasp of my bra releasing, the straps slipping slightly from my shoulders.

I inhaled sharply, looking up to find her smirking, blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“That was very smooth,” I murmured, feigning nonchalance as I let my own magic tease along the edge of her panties in return.

Agatha hummed, her fingers toying with the loosened strap of my bra, dragging it down just enough to expose more of me.

“I do try.”

I swallowed, my body heating under her gaze.

“And if the kids...”

Her lips brushed my ear, then to the spot where my ear met my neck, her magic pressing against my skin, firm and knowing.

“They’re asleep,” she murmured. “You worry too much.”

I let out a breathy laugh, even as a shiver ran through me. “One of us has to be responsible.”

Agatha leaned back slightly, her smirk widening as she took me in. She traced her fingers down the valley of my now exposed breasts, then lower, down over my stomach, just above my waistband.

“You could stop me?”

I exhaled sharply, meeting her gaze, the challenge clear between us.

I could… was I going to… absolutely not.

Because right now?

I wasn’t feeling very responsible.

I barely had time to process the flick of her fingers before I felt the cool air against my legs—my jeans weren’t undone, they were gone. Just… disappeared, like they’d never existed.

I gasped, my body tensing for half a second before I caught the wicked glint in Agatha’s blue eyes.

“Really?” I breathed, half-laughing, half-reeling from the abrupt removal. She smirked, eyes trailing over me now that I was left in nothing but my panties.

“You were taking too long.”

Before I could throw some snarky reply back at her, she was on me again, her lips trailing hot, deliberate kisses down my chest.

I sucked in a breath as she pressed in closer, her bare skin warm against mine, her hands roaming—one resting against my lower back, the other teasing over my hip, her fingers just brushing the lace of my underwear.

The living room, the kitchen, everything else faded to the background.

It was just her. Just us.

And I wasn’t thinking about the kids, or responsibility, or even the reckless way we were tangled up here, barely clothed, not caring about anything else but this.

Agatha’s mouth found the curve of my breast, then my nipple, her teeth scraping lightly before she soothed the spot with her tongue, pulling a gasp from me.

I dug my fingers into her back, tilting my head as she kissed lower, teasing, deliberate.

“I knew you’d like that,” she murmured against my skin.

I let out something between a laugh and a shaky breath.

“I hate how smug you are.”

She grinned, pressing a kiss just above my navel.

“No, you don’t.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers threading into her dark waves as her lips trailed even lower.

No.

No, I really didn’t.

I thought she was going to drop to her knees... god, I was ready for her to.

But then I felt it—my feet lifting from the floor, my body moving, guided by something unseen but all too familiar. Before I could even gasp, I was placed onto the cool surface of the kitchen counter, thighs spread wide, my balance steady only because she wanted it to be.

Agatha stepped between my legs, hands running up my thighs, and I knew she had done this on purpose—to see me, to make sure I knew exactly what I looked like right now, open and wanting, the evidence of it soaking through the thin lace of my underwear.

Her eyes glanced low as she took in the sight, and god, the way she looked at me... like she had just won a game we weren’t even playing... made the heat between my legs burn even hotter.

I swallowed hard, my breath uneven.

“You could’ve just asked,” I murmured, my voice rougher, more ragged than I intended.

Agatha hummed, dragging her nails lightly along the inside of my thighs, making me shiver.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Her hands inched higher, her fingers pressing just enough to make me squirm, but not enough to satisfy. She was toying with me, drawing this out, enjoying the way my body responded to her.

I let out a shaky breath, reaching for her, gripping the back of her neck to pull her closer.

“Agatha—”

Her smirk deepened, and I barely had time to react before her lips were on mine, hot, claiming, stealing the words right out of my mouth.

And just as I started to sink into it, our tongues fighting for dominance, just as I was about to beg her to do something, I felt it.. another pulse of magic.

A beat later, my panties were gone.

I moaned, the sudden coolness making me shiver, making me ache. My body was so hot, so wound tight I thought I might snap from nothing more than the way she was looking at me.

I spread my legs wider for her, an offering, a surrender. God, I was hers and she knew it. I would let her do anything.

And she was enjoying it—relishing the way I melted for her, the way I was already undone before she had even really touched me.

Her fingers trailed higher, slow, deliberate, teasing the inside of my thigh, her touch light enough to make me want, to make me need her. And then—finally—she stroked me. Just the barest drag of her fingers through my wet folds, and my hips jerked instinctively, desperate for more.

But she didn’t give it me.

She was toying with me, dragging this out, revelling in the way I responded to just the teasing touches of her left hand, the way my breath hitched, the way my thighs trembled under her.

I let out a whimper, gripping the edge of the counter like I could ground myself, like I could will her to give in.

Then I felt it.

Not just her fingers… but her magic.

It pulsed through me, against me, inside me, invisible but undeniable, like a current sparking through every nerve in my body.

I gasped, my back arching, my head rolling back as a husky moan tore from my lips.

It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before—so intimate, so deep, touching something in me that was beyond the physical.

Agatha hummed, pleased, her fingers still stroking, circling, her magic still pressing, teasing, building.

“Oh,” she murmured, voice dripping with amusement and something darker, something possessive. “You really like that, don’t you?”

I couldn’t answer her.

I could barely breathe.

“Agatha,” I moaned, my hips moving instinctively, chasing more—more friction, more of her, more of whatever spell she was weaving around me… inside of me. God, what was she doing to me?

The pleasure was overwhelming, sharp and sweet all at once, twisting inside me until I forgot everything else—where we were, how loud I was being, how reckless this was.

I knew I should be quieter, knew I should at least try to keep it together. But all I could feel was her—her fingers sliding through my slickness, teasing me open, her magic pulsing in a way that sent hot sparks licking up over my clit. She was dragging this out, savouring every reaction, every damn sound I made. She stepped back slightly, just enough to watch, her blue eyes locked onto where her fingers were playing with me, spreading me, owning me.

I whimpered, my body twitching with need, and she smirked—knowing, utterly devastating.

“I think…” I managed to breathe, my voice uneven, shaking, “it’s not just me that likes this…”

Agatha let out a low, approving hum, her fingers pressing just a bit deeper, just a bit firmer, making me gasp, but not giving me enough.

“Mmm,” she murmured, tilting her head, her eyes still fixed on me, watching every little movement, every little reaction. “You have no idea.”

“Please, baby,” I moaned, my voice desperate, needy. Any restraint I might have had was long gone, tossed out the window along with my inhibitions.

I needed her. Inside me. Not teasing, not playing, not making me fall apart inch by inch—I needed her to take me.

Agatha smirked, her fingers still tormenting me, tracing the edges of my entrance but never quite pushing inside. Her magic rippled through me again, that slow, electric pulse that made my body tremble, made my breath hitch.

I whimpered, hips arching, trying to move against her, trying to take her deeper myself.

But she just tsked, keeping her touch just out of reach.

“What do you want, Y/N,” she murmured, voice silky, but dangerously in control.

I moaned, my body aching with need. God, she knew exactly what I wanted, knew exactly how desperate I was.

And she was thriving in it.

I bucked my hips again, trying to push her fingers inside me, but she stayed firm, just barely pressing, just enough to keep me on edge.

“Use your words,” she purred.

I whimpered again, my fingers gripping the edge of the counter so tight my knuckles turned white.

“Agatha, please,” I gasped, my voice breaking. “I need you inside me. Now… Just… fuck me.”

Her smirk deepened, satisfaction flickering across her face.

“There you go,” she murmured, leaning in close, her lips brushing the side of my face. And then—finally—she gave me what I wanted.

I had no idea how I didn’t wake the kids. Jesus, the noise that left me—the desperate, broken moan that ripped from my throat as she finally gave me what I needed.

Her fingers.

Her magic.

Inside of me, stretching, filling… fucking me.

Agatha’s left hand was buried deep, her ring and middle fingers deep, sinking in all the way to her engagement and wedding band, the cool metal pressing against my entrance, a constant reminder of who I belonged to.

Fuck.

It was consuming. Unlike anything I had ever felt before, like every nerve in my body was attuned to her, to the way she moved inside me, thrusting, twisting, curling her fingers just right, hitting that spot that made me see stars.

I barely registered the way I clung to her, my nails dragging down her back, my thighs trembling against her sides. All I could focus on was her, the way she was watching me, blue eyes gleaming, drinking in the way I was falling apart beneath her, around her. She fucking loved this…Loved the way I writhed, the way I gasped her name, the way I had lost any semblance of control.

“Agatha,” I choked out, my breath ragged, my body burning.

I could feel it, building inside me, higher and higher, like I was standing at the edge of something I might never come back from.

She curled her fingers again—fuck, right there—her magic pressing at the same time, flooding through me, deep, touching something I couldn’t even name.

"Oh, baby—right there,” I gasped, my voice breaking. “Don’t—”I didn’t even know what I was begging for.

More? Mercy?

I couldn’t control myself. The way I was acting, the way I was moving, chasing her, chasing this, my body desperate, needy, starving for more of her.

The need for her to fuck me like she never had before.

And god, she knew it.

But fuck... she was doing it on our kitchen counter.

The thought should’ve made me laugh—should’ve made me pause, should’ve reminded me that the Nicki and Ella were just upstairs—but I didn’t care. I couldn’t care.

Not with her inside me.

Not with her fingers pushing, curling, twisting in ways that made my body tremble, made me forget everything but the pleasure she was pulling from me.

The sound—the obscene, wet sound of her fingers moving inside me filled the room, mixing with my gasps, my moans, the quiet murmurs of encouragement from her lips.

“That’s it, baby,” she purred, her voice as dark as her magic, her free hand gripping my thigh, keeping me spread wide for her. For her to see. For her to take. “Let me hear you.”

I let out a strangled moan, my hands scrambling against the counter, my body arching. I couldn’t control it anymore, couldn’t stop the way I moved against her, how I chased it, chased her.

“Fuck… baby…” I gasped, barely able to breathe. “I—”

I didn’t even know what I was trying to say.

That I was close? That I was hers? That I was about to come apart so completely, I wasn’t sure I’d ever put myself back together again?

It didn’t matter.

Because she knew, and nothing was going to make her stop.

“Feel me inside you,” she whispered against my mouth, her breath hot, her voice thick with dark amusement, with possession.

Her fingers pumped deeper, curling just right, her magic rippling inside me in a way that made my body shudder, my breath come out in desperate, choked gasps.

“Squeeze me, baby.” Her lips brushed mine, her smirk infuriatingly smug as she felt me clench around her. “That’s a good girl”.

I was so far gone.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t form a single coherent thought beyond her—her fingers fucking me open, her magic thrumming through my veins, her body owning mine in a way that I never wanted to end.

The pleasure was blinding, all-consuming, twisting tighter and tighter, coiling in my stomach, in my thighs, in the very marrow of my bones.

“Oh, fuck,” I gasped, my hands gripping at her—her shoulders, her arms, anything to anchor me as my body tensed, trembling.

I was going to come.

God, I was going to come so fucking hard for her—from her, because of her, because of her fingers, her magic, her voice in my ear telling me to let go.

And when it finally snapped—when the pleasure crashed over me—I moaned her name, as if it was fresh out of a porn movie.

That was one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever had.

Holy fuck.

I was still trembling, my body shuddering with aftershocks as Agatha’s fingers worked the last of the pleasure from me, coaxing me through it. My hips still jerked, my body still reacted to her, even as I collapsed forward, my head resting against her shoulder.

I let out a breathless, satisfied laugh—maybe from the sheer bliss of it, maybe from the slight embarrassment of how completely I had let go.

And then, realisation hit me like a brick to the face.

I had been so loud.

“Shit,” I gasped, lifting my head to look at her, panic flickering through the lingering haze of pleasure.

“I wasn’t—”

“—quiet?” Agatha finished, her smirk wicked, amused. “No, darling. You really weren’t.”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands, but before I could wallow in my mortification, I felt the slow, deliberate slide of her fingers pulling out of me. My body ached at the loss, already missing her touch.

Then, without breaking eye contact, she lifted her fingers to her lips and sucked them clean.

I swore my soul left my body.

She hummed, deliberate, slow, as she licked every trace of me off her fingers. My breath hitched, my stomach flipping, my already sensitive body twitching at the sheer filthiness of it.

Then she grabbed my jaw and pulled me into a kiss, her tongue sliding into my mouth, teasing, letting me taste myself on her.

And—fuck.

It was different. Not just me—but her, her magic, something dark and electric and entirely Agatha lingering on my tongue.

When we finally broke apart, I was dazed, spent, and still shaking from what she’d just done to me.

“Don’t worry,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face, her smirk deepening. “The kids wouldn’t have heard a thing.”

I raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

She lifted a hand and subtly flicked her fingers.

I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t—”

“Oh, it was just a little sleeping spell,” she purred, grinning like the devil.

I gaped at her.

“Agatha!”

She shrugged. “You were being loud, darling.”

I groaned, dropping my forehead back against her shoulder, already knowing this had set a precedent for it becoming more than a one-time thing.

“It would be a shame to waste it,” Agatha murmured, leaning into me, her bare skin pressing against mine, warm and tempting.

“Would it now?” I teased, though my voice lacked conviction.

I was still not entirely thrilled about the magic she had used to keep Nicki and Ella asleep, but… god, was I torn.

Because the way she was looking at me?

The way my body still hummed from her touch?

I wanted her.

Again.

And again.

And again.

She slid me down off the counter, my legs unsteady, still trembling from my release. I gripped her tight, my body weak but aching for her all the same.

Agatha hummed, amused. “A little wobbly there, hon?”

I huffed, gripping her tighter. “You know damn well why.”

She smirked, proud of herself, too proud, and before she could get another word out, I flicked my wrist.

Magic surged between us, wrapping around our bodies, and in an instant, we were no longer in the kitchen.

We were in our king-size bed—Agatha beneath me, sprawled out, panties now completely gone.

She let out a low, pleased hum, her smirk widening as she stretched out, utterly unbothered by the sudden shift.

“Oh,” she purred, blue eyes glinting, “look at you. Using magic like it’s going out of fashion.”

I merely arched a brow, pressing my body flush against hers, trapping her beneath me.

I leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, slow-burning kiss, my hands trailing down her stomach, teasing but intentional.

As I broke the kiss, I let my fingers drift lower, my magic sparking against her skin as I smirked down at her.

“So,” I murmured, my voice low, my touch dangerously close to where she wanted it. “Where were we?”

I trailed my fingers lower, slow, teasing, the anticipation thrumming between us like a live wire.

Then I felt her.

And—Jesus. She was soaking.

A sharp inhale left my lips as my fingers dipped between her thighs, sliding against her wetness, between her folds, feeling just how wrecked she already was.

I lifted my gaze, meeting her eyes, my breath catching at the pure, unfiltered desire burning in them.

“Oh,” I murmured, my fingers teasing through her slickness, not quite giving her what she needed yet.

“Look at you.”

Agatha let out a breathy laugh, her smirk still in place, but her body twitched at the contact, her hips subtly shifting, needing more.

“Surprised?” she mused, though her voice was a little rougher, a little less composed than usual.

I grinned, pressing my fingers against her just a little more firmly, noting the way her breath hitched, as I brushed her clit.

“Pleased.”

I slid my fingers through her again, slow, deliberate, watching her expression shift, watching her lips part, her chest rise and fall just a bit quicker.

“God, baby,” I murmured, my voice dark with satisfaction, “you’re already so fucking wet for me.”

Agatha hummed, but this time, there was an edge to it.

“You did put on quite the show,” she murmured, her tone taunting, but I could feel the tension in her body, feel the way she was holding herself back.

I smirked, leaning down, brushing my lips against her ear as my fingers pressed deeper, teasing at her entrance but not pushing inside…just yet.

“Do you want me to return the favour?” I whispered, my breath warm against her skin.

Agatha swallowed, her hands tightening where they rested against my hips, her nails digging in just slightly.

But she was still playing the game, still trying to hold her ground.

So I waited.

I kept teasing, barely giving her what she wanted—until, finally, she let out a soft, frustrated moan, her hips arching, her magic flowing against mine in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.

Her voice was rough, low, almost a growl when she finally said it.

“Fuck me.”

I grinned against her skin.

“Oh, baby, I intend to.”

And then I slid my fingers inside her, and Agatha gasped.

God, she was so tight around me.

Nothing—nothing—felt better than this.

Than her.

Her heat.

I started moving, slow at first, deliberate, knowing full well it wasn’t enough, knowing it would drive her crazy.

Agatha let out a low, frustrated noise, her hips twitching, trying to take more, trying to set the pace herself.

But I wasn’t going to let her.

Not yet.

I wanted to feel her break, wanted to hear her beg, wanted to pull her apart the way she had done to me.

I pressed my lips against her jaw, nipping her with my teeth, teasing, dragging my fingers slowly out before pushing back in, keeping the rhythm achingly slow.

“Patience, baby,” I murmured against her skin, mocking the words she had said to me earlier.

Agatha let out a breathy laugh, sharp and knowing, but I could hear the edge of need beneath it.

“Oh, you’re playing dangerously, hon,” she whispered, her nails digging into my back, her magic thrumming against mine.

I grinned, pressing my thumb against her clit, just lightly, just enough to make her body twitch beneath me.

“I thought you liked that,” I murmured, thrusting deeper, still keeping her waiting, still teasing her with every slow movement.

Agatha let out a shaky breath, her walls tightening around me, her hips shifting restlessly.

Then she turned her head, her lips brushing against my ear, her voice lower, rougher, more raw than I’d ever heard it.

“Stop fucking teasing me,” she growled.

I shivered, the pure desperation in her tone setting my blood on fire.

Mmm—fuck.

I couldn’t deny her anymore.

Not when she sounded like that.

Not when she felt like this.

So I broke, curling my fingers deep inside her, pressing hard against that spot that made her body jerk, that made her gasp so loud I knew she didn’t care if the sleeping spell held or not.

I fucked her.

Hard.

And god, she love it.

I thrust hard, my fingers driving deep inside her, my thumb pressing against her clit at the same time… a warm burn starting to spread through my wrist.

The moment I did, I felt it—my magic crackling between us, wrapping around her, inside her, like an invisible pulse of heat.

Agatha’s moan was wrecked, raw, her body arching up into me, her head tilting back, exposing the long, perfect curve of her throat.God.

That sound.

That deep, desperate, uncontrollable moan that came from her lips as I fucked her with my fingers, as my magic pulsed through her body.

I felt a rush of heat between my own thighs, felt my own wetness drip down, my body aching from just hearing her.

From watching her come apart.

From knowing I was the one doing this to her.

She was so close, I could feel it in the way she clenched around me, in the way her hips jerked without rhythm, her body chasing more, more, more.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” I gasped, my breath coming out in ragged pants, my own pleasure building just from watching her fall apart.

Agatha’s hands clawed at me, pulling me closer, as if she needed to anchor herself, as if she needed to feel all of me as she unraveled.

Her voice was shaky, breathless, so fucking close to breaking as she gasped:

“Don’t stop—!”

And god help me, I wasn’t going to.

The wet, slick sound of my fingers moving inside her filled the room, mixing with her breathless, broken moans. Fuck, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.

I never lost my rhythm, I kept thrusting, kept pushing as deep as I could, my fingers scissoring inside her, stretching her, curling to hit that perfect spot that made her body jolt against mine.

She was so damn close—I could feel it in the way she tightened around me, in the way her thighs trembled, her nails digging into my skin, her head thrown back in complete surrender.

“That’s it, baby,” I murmured, my thumb pressing harder against her clit, rubbing fast, tight circles, my lips, my tongue brushing against her throat as I encouraged her.

“Come for me. Let go, Agatha.”

She tried to speak—tried to say something, but all that left her was a strangled, wrecked moan as her body seized, her muscles tensing, her magic crashing against mine in wild, uncontrollable waves.

I felt the exact moment her release came —the moment she shattered around me, her walls pulsing tight, squeezing my fingers so hard it nearly stole my breath.

Her cry of pleasure was raw, undone, her hips jerking, her body writhing as she rode out her orgasm, my fingers still deep inside her, drawing out every last aftershock.

She was so gone, so completely wrecked beneath me, and god, I had never felt so powerful, so fucking addicted to the way she fell apart for me.

Her breath was ragged, her body still trembling, and I couldn’t stop myself—I leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, slow kiss, tasting her moan, owning it.

When I finally pulled back, she was dazed, her beautiful blue eyes hazy, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

I smirked, satisfied, dragging my fingers slowly out of her, loving the way her body twitched from the loss.

She swallowed, blinking up at me, her expression unreadable for just a second—then her smirk returned, lazy, dangerous, so fucking Agatha.

She let out a breathy chuckle, still wrecked, and rasped “…God Y/N, I knew you had it in you.”

I smirked down at her, utterly pleased with myself, my fingers still glistening from her.

“Oh? And what exactly did you think I had in me?”

Agatha let out a breathless, satisfied laugh, her hands still lazily resting on my hips as she blinked up at me, her eyes still looking hungry.

“Oh, you know,” she drawled, tilting her head, her smirk lazy and self-satisfied, but I could still see the aftershocks running through her body. “A bit of wickedness. A little bite.”

She exhaled, still catching her breath, her fingers brushing idly against my bare skin.

“But this? I wasn’t expecting you to be so…” She trailed off, eyes flickering down to my very smug expression, before licking her lips.

“So?” I prompted, dragging my slick fingers up her thigh, teasing, making her twitch.

Agatha hummed, fake considering, before her smirk turned sharp, wicked.

“Merciless.”

I grinned, leaning down, brushing my lips over hers, just barely giving her what she wanted.

“Oh, baby,” I murmured, dragging my fingers up her stomach, watching her shiver under my touch. “I learned from the best.”

Agatha let out a slow, dark laugh, her fingers tightening on my waist.

“I really should’ve corrupted you sooner.”

I bit my lip, mocking thoughtfulness, my fingers trailing back down, dangerously close to where she was still warm and wet for me.

“Oh? So you admit I’m better than you thought?”

Agatha narrowed her eyes, her smirk growing wider.

“I never said better.”

I flicked my fingers, letting my magic spark just enough to tease her, to make her gasp, her hips twitching again.

“Oh, I think I just proved otherwise.

”Mm,” she murmured, voice hoarse, amused, completely smug. “You really are full of surprises.”

I huffed a soft laugh, pulling her closer, my arms wrapping around her, our bodies naturally melding together, skin still warm, still buzzing from everything we’d just done.

She let out a content sigh, tucking her head against my shoulder, comfortable, relaxed, so effortlessly Agatha.

I let my fingers trace absent patterns up her side, across her ribs, pressing a lazy kiss to her temple.

“You can take the sleeping spell off the kids now,” I murmured, my voice teasing but pointed.

Agatha hummed again, this time slower, considering.

“Mmm,” she sighed, stretching just slightly, her bare legs tangling with mine. “Maybe I’ll leave it on a little longer.”

I snorted, turning my head to look at her, eyebrow raised.

“Oh? Is that so?”

She grinned, her fingers trailing lightly down my own side, casual, innocent, but I knew better.

“Well,” she mused, thoughtfully mocking me, her breath hot against my skin, “you did just discover how much fun magic can be.”

I smirked, shifting just slightly so our bodies pressed even closer, heat curling between us again, despite the exhaustion settling in.

“Maybe,” I murmured, my lips brushing hers, “using my magic more often isn’t such a bad thing…”

Agatha let out a low, pleased hum, her smirk widening as she nipped at my lip.

“Not when it’s just the two of us.”

Also on AO3 - Writtenwhiledreaming 💜 (Third chapter of No! You Can’t Hex A Four-Year-Old).

[noobiestnoober]

Truth or Dare Gone Wrong (The Mystic Falls Gang and Reader)

A game of truth or dare at the Salvatore house starts off innocent enough—until you dare Bonnie to use a spell, and suddenly, Stefan is stuck speaking in rhymes, Damon’s hair turns bright pink, and you are somehow glowing in the dark.

The night started out almost suspiciously normal.

The Salvatore boarding house had that rare, peaceful vibe—as if the walls had momentarily forgotten all the times they’d been stained with blood, or echoed with Klaus’ taunting threats. The fireplace was flickering softly. A lazy indie playlist hummed in the background. Someone—probably Caroline—had strung fairy lights across the ceiling, giving the space a soft, golden glow that made the worn-out furniture feel cozier than it had any right to.

For once, no one was fighting. No one was bleeding. No ancient evil was crawling out of a crypt. It was just the Mystic Falls crew, lounging in a makeshift circle with blankets, pillows, pizza boxes, and a dangerously underestimated sense of peace.

You had just taken a sip of soda when Elena, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, said the cursed words.

“Truth or dare?”

Bonnie, immediately suspicious, gave her a withering look. “Seriously? Can we not tempt fate for one night?”

Jeremy snorted. “You say that like we haven’t already tempted, pissed off, and danced with fate about twelve times this week.”

“It’s a harmless game,” Elena said with a shrug.

Damon raised his glass. “Says the girl whose last harmless game got us locked in a haunted corn maze with a headless banshee.”

Stefan gave his brother a pointed look, but his lips twitched with amusement. Still, despite Bonnie’s half-hearted protests, and the unspoken what could go wrong hanging in the air like a warning, everyone agreed. Maybe it was boredom. Maybe it was habit. Or maybe it was the kind of collective denial only a group of supernatural misfits could afford.

The bottle was retrieved from the kitchen, placed in the center of the circle, and given a spin.

It started off... well. Manageable. Funny, even. A few tame truths. A few harmless dares. Stefan reluctantly jogged shirtless around the house after losing a bet. Caroline was dared to speed-clean Damon’s liquor shelf alphabetically and did so with glitter and flair. Elena admitted she once fantasized about making out with Elijah during a particularly weird dream—and then pretended she hadn’t said it by stuffing her mouth with chips. Damon was dared to compliment Jeremy ten times in a row and got through five before dramatically fake-gagging and muttering something about his “tragically average bone structure.”

Everyone laughed. The laughter was warm and real. Then the bottle landed on Bonnie.

She arched a brow. “Truth or dare?” you asked, unable to hide your grin.

Bonnie didn’t hesitate. “Dare.”

You leaned in. “Use a spell.”

Immediately, the mood shifted. Everyone exchanged glances. Bonnie straightened, her expression unreadable.

“Nothing serious,” you added quickly. “Just... something fun. Something dumb.”

Caroline tilted her head. “Like what? Turning the lights different colors? Floating snacks?”

“Sure,” you said, already regretting everything. “Something like that.”

Bonnie stared at you for a long second. Then she sighed and stood up. “Okay. Fine. One spell. No promises.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a small crystal, whispering under her breath as she moved to the center of the room. The lights dimmed slightly. The fire crackled louder. And then, in a voice that sounded just a little too ancient for your comfort, she muttered something in Latin and waved her hand.

There was a brief shimmer in the air, like heat rising off pavement. The fairy lights pulsed. The candle flames danced.

Then silence. Nothing exploded. Nothing caught fire. You exhaled. Too soon.

Stefan suddenly sat up straighter and, with perfect seriousness, said, “What in the name of hell just occurred? My chest feels tight, my thoughts are slurred.”

Everyone blinked.

“Did you just... rhyme?” Elena asked.

Stefan opened his mouth again. “I fear my voice is not my own. These cursed words—I speak in tone.”

Bonnie’s eyes went wide. “Oh no.”

Damon, who had been halfway through sipping his bourbon, looked up with narrowed eyes. “Oh no what?”

“I think the spell... reacted,” Bonnie said, backing away. “It might have tied itself to the game.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” you said. “It was just a dare.”

“Yes, and I dared chaos. So... congratulations, you’re welcome.”

While everyone tried to process that, Damon stood up and stalked over to the mirror near the staircase. He paused, stared, and screamed.

“Oh, hell no.”

He turned slowly, seething. His perfectly tousled hair—his pride, his signature—was now a blinding shade of neon pink.

“Someone fix this before I set the entire block on fire.”

“You can’t threaten arson in a tiara-colored mop,” Caroline deadpanned, half-laughing, half-horrified.

You blinked and looked down at your hands. Oh. You were glowing. No—radiating. A soft, golden shimmer rolled across your skin, pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

“Bonnie?” you said carefully.

She turned. Her eyes widened.

“Oh my god.”

“I’m glowing.”

“Yep.”

“Like a radioactive lightning bug.”

“I think the spell is bonding to each of us,” she said slowly, scanning the room. “Based on who we are, what we dared, or maybe... I don’t know... emotional resonance?”

Damon flailed. “My emotional resonance is not pink, thank you very much!”

Stefan sighed and sank into the nearest chair. “Of all the things to make me do, why rhyme? I’d rather die than waste my time.”

“You are wasting our time,” Damon muttered, still glaring at his reflection. “At least try a haiku or something.”

“Guys,” Bonnie said, rubbing her temples, “the spell is unstable. If we don’t finish the game, the effects could stick.”

Jeremy perked up. “So we have to keep playing?”

“No,” Stefan said dramatically. “We must continue this cursed affair, or suffer longer in despair.”

“That’s a yes,” Bonnie translated.

And so the game resumed.

—

If the first half had been silly, the second half was absolute supernatural anarchy. Elena’s next dare gave her brief telepathy—just long enough for her to hear Damon’s thoughts and physically recoil.

“Oh my god.”

“What?” he said.

“You—think—in French when you lie.”

Damon didn’t even deny it. “Helps with finesse.”

Caroline, ever the overachiever, accepted a dare to teleport—but immediately vanished mid-sentence and reappeared on top of the kitchen counter. Then again in the hallway. Then, horrifyingly, in Stefan’s shower.

Matt turned into a stone statue for five whole minutes when he refused to answer a dare, only revived after Bonnie waved a candle and sang Beyoncé under her breath.

And you—your glow was brighter now. It shifted with your emotions. Every time someone shouted or shrieked, you pulsed like a heartbeat monitor on espresso. You were afraid to stand too close to anything flammable.

Stefan, rhyming now with bitter elegance, was narrating the entire night in tragic couplets like some cursed Shakespearean bard.

By the end, everyone was slumped in various states of exhaustion and spiritual damage.

Bonnie stood slowly. “One more round. Then I can end it.”

“Don’t you need, like, an actual reversal ritual?” you asked.

She shook her head. “It started with a dare. It ends with one.”

She looked around. Then dared herself. The room darkened. Magic sparked around her fingertips. She spoke fast, incantations layered in an ancient tongue. The spell pulsed out of her like a wave, and all at once—

Your glow vanished. Stefan exhaled in silence. Caroline reappeared on the couch with a relieved squeak. Jeremy finally stopped trying to get the bottle to spin on its own. And Damon? Damon stared at his reflection.

“Still pink,” he muttered.

Bonnie winced. “Yeah, that one’s... probably gonna fade naturally. In a week. Or so.”

Damon turned slowly, eyes murderous. “A week?”

“You dared the spell,” she reminded him.

“No. She did.” He pointed directly at you.

You raised your hands, no longer glowing, and smiled. “Worth it.”

Later

Everyone had gone home—or, more accurately, scattered like trauma survivors. You stayed behind to help clean up. Damon, sullen and sparkling under the low light, poured himself another drink, tiara still in place because Caroline had dared him to keep it for the rest of the night and Bonnie had reinforced it with a binding charm. He caught you smirking.

“Laugh it up, glow worm.”

You saluted with your soda. “Truth or dare, Damon?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Dare.”

You leaned back with a grin. “Be normal for a whole day.”

Damon groaned.

“Pure evil,” he muttered, downing his drink.

You didn’t disagree.

🕯️ Truth or Dare is now banned from the Salvatore boarding house under magical law. Violators will be glitter-bombed and hexed accordingly.

The Sequel to this story is uploaded. Enjoy!

[tomas-smoked-sasuage]

MK1 Kast reaction to AOU! Scarlet Witch! Reader (Outworld Edition + Takeda Takahashi)

SUMMARY: Outworld had a history of Chaos Magic disturbing their peace years ago, finding out you were a descendant of the magic brings concerns on the Royal House

WARNINGS?: I can think of any, maybe gore mentioning?

SINDEL

She finds you intriguing

She wonders if you are more powerful than you normally show (well she’ll never know, she gone)

“If you were raised here, you could’ve been Umgadi, that is you will live longer…and loyalty with no tricks”

She’s heard r of your magic and is cautious whether or not you’ll bring harm, to her family and kingdom (prolly snatch her weave too while you at it..)

Eventually she’ll be more wary of you than she is with Liu Kang about his “betrayal”

To her very last breath and strength, if you every turned against her and her family, she will deemed to kill you

MILEENA

She’s not much of a fan of you but can tolerate you than the other Earthrealmers, mainly Johnny and Raiden (she hates Raiden’s humbleness)

Much like Sindel, she won’t hesitate to try and kill you if you deemed to be bad news

In her Tarkat state, she will cut you faster if you are not careful

She is aware that your abilities are unpredictable therefore does not trust you if you can't handle them

She definitely didn’t trust you when Kung Lao, Kenshi, Johnny and you walked in on her treatment with the Tarkat serum, but was concerned of you when she heard you were kidnapped by Shang Tsung after being captured at his laboratory

She apologized for nearly killing you and blinding Kenshi, but you told her thing was a learning experience for the future

She was hoping to contact you to help her find her father/Ermac

KITANA

She will think you of as inferior and dangerous but was dumbfounded to found you kind

Much like the other Edenians, she does not have full trust in you, with the fact that Chaos Magic flows through your veins bring her more questions on how your more different than your ancestors with the magic

She asks Johnny about you and was more surprised that he was new to this magic of yours

She does see promise and pride in you, but does not know how long it will last

After defeating Titan Shang Tsung, you two do grow close, and you eventually tease Raiden about it

She kind of questions your motivates on why becoming a warrior if your powers were too dangerous, you explained your powers were already becoming dangerous even without using them

She likes the flow and glimpse of them, the scarlet red moving and flowing like waves around her finger tips, she could get used to you

TANYA

PROTECTIVE ASF!!

Yes, that is her job, but girlie cool down!!!

Out the corner of your eye, you feel her deep glare…very, very deep…

She will low-key threaten you…

“If you ever think about stepping one foot out of line, I will make your death fast but painful, I know what you are…” (okay, kobeni..)

Not much for Tanya, but she’s just a straight up hater, watch for her

RAIN

Ngl, this man will TRY to bed you

He’s looking up and down…😏🤏

Okay, I’m joking… but he does find your magic at grace

Not like other Edenians, he does not fear or caution much of your magic, yes he knows all about it when he studies but he’s not scary of it

BUT on the other hand, during your capture from Shang Tsung, he does try to convince you to join him and the others to overthrow and rebel against Sindel and the Royal House, you choose not to.

Not wanting to gain any favors

He tries to win your trust by telling you he knows how much potential you have is nearly endless. But you didn’t want to hear it. Even with your accruing nightmares, thinking about the harm you could do, you choose not to go against your friends

Even after flooding Seido, Rain understood why you chose not to rebel against anyone but yourself, his decision which costed lives and Mileena’s wrath, he determined redemption

✨BOUNUS✨

TAKEDA TAKAHASHI

You’re weird… that’s it

As if not only finding out his cousin does telepathy and telekinetic manipulation, finding out someone else on his team can do it too is even more weirder

Brother thinks he’s high asf (shit probably..)

He did not disagree with Johnny when he said you and Kenshi should be together, but can also see why you choose not too, he knows you can beat his cousin and is way above his league

He notice that you don’t do too much combat, so he teaches you some moves he learned from the Shirai Ryu

Is actually happy that you have common sense when being in a typical situation

I DID IT!! I will continue this with the next one with Villains, the villains might have two parts since there’s a lot of villains, the DLC characters (not the actual MK characters) will have their separate list such as Homelander, Omni-Man, Peacemaker and Ghostface. I’ll make a part two for other DLC non-canon when they come out.

REQUEST ARE OPEN, FEEL FREE TO ASK ME ANYTHING

List of fandoms are on my main page. Here

[crazyskirtlady]

The Dragon's Eye Amulet

genderfluid! reader X human male

content: you are a demonic entity, shape shifted into an amulet of power, you grant the wearer of your amulet wishes of their desires...for a price

warnings: demon, shape shifting, fem&male genitalia, yandere vibes, forced/coerced, bondage, pain, blood, gawk gawk 5k, le anale penetratíon

From the moment he picked up the amulet that contained you...

Immediately you could see the vanity in his eyes, the shallow desires that filled him are what attracted him to the cursed amulet, to you, in the first place, and you gleamed knowing he would be perfect to feed upon.

Prihyom purchased the gold, dragon shaped, red jeweled bauble from the glib salesman (an associate of yours) who confidently promised it would empower the wearer with all they could desire and more...

He took the amulet home and adorned himself, prancing about his room admiring his reflection. And you exuded aura from the sparkling gem, a glamour he could see and feel...

He couldn't take you off, the red and gold necklace suited him so perfectly, emboldened him and he could hardly keep his hands off the intricate design and bejeweled filigree. He took out his phone and admired himself again and again in the screen. And you glowed brilliantly, fueling his pride into conceit.

Prihyom could not even take the amulet off to sleep, and stoking it as he lay in bed he dozed in and out of sleep, and you whispered to him...

"Tell me what you most desire..."

Clutching the amulet in his hands he mumbled softly, asking to be even more handsome, he wanted to become achingly, stunning beautiful!

And of course you obliged him.

The next days everyone who saw him fawned on him, commenting on his pleasing features, dewey smooth skin, eyes bright as copper, hair black as night. Prihyom was beside himself in amazement, his physical transformation was like a miracle!

But it wasn't enough of course, having had a taste of your power Prihyom felt the amulet to be something otherworldly. He could feel your presence, though he did not know it was you yet. And so, in bed, in the dark of the night, stroking the amulet, he murmured to you, about being the most popular and most liked among his peers. He wanted to have the charm to become affluent and adored!

And of course you obliged him.

And the next days you watched as he was flooded with a thousand new friends, dates, party invitations, engagements of all types. And he was so happy, busy enough that he seemed satiated...but only for a bit.

Because he was again clutching you, clutching the amulet in the night whispering to you in a desperately needy voice, oh! He wanted wealth now! Wanted people to throw money at him! And now you chuckled to yourself knowing he was irrevocably bound by your power as you again granted his demand.

In the next days an offer was made for him to become an entertainer, with his tantalizing good looks, his supernatural charm and smile, all it took was a wink and a flick of his silky mane to have people sending money to him in all forms.

With his newly acquired wealth he stepped into a better quality of life. Bigger lodging, fancier decor, amenities to impress his many friends and many more eager lovers...

Now Prihyom knew without a shadow of doubt that his amulet was magickal, that you were powerful magick and he was filled with greed for whatever he could summon from you. He was hungry for more!

More!

Now the time was ripe.

It was time for him to pay the price for all he had asked of you...

In the night your spirit poured like a mist from the amulet, transmogrifying gold into flesh, jewel into bone and teeth and eye. Standing over Prihyom sleeping peacefully in his bed you grin and stretch oh! It has been awhile since you have taken on a physical form!

Glancing down at your fearsome visage you decide perhaps a more feminine form would be preferable in this instance. Smoothing your skin, sprouting long flowing hair, shaping delicate, feminine features vaguely similar to his own; as Prihyom had become quite narcissistically vain.

Sitting down in the bed next to him, you reach out and run your fingers along his jaw, cupping his chin you tilt his head back slightly so you can examine his handsome face closely. The small movements make him grumble and stir, his hand grasping yours in a half conscious reflex. His eyes open and focus on you in confusion, he startles and tries to sit up but you have already weighed him down with your presence, demonic paralysis now makes his jaw drop and his uplifted hand slump down.

You chuckle and click your tongue at him.

"My dear, sweet Prihyom, you didn't even bother to question the powers of the amulet that granted your every whim, and now..." You grin wickedly and watch growing fear widen his eyes. You reign in your power, allowing him the freedom to gasp and cough.

"Who...are you?" He manages to choke out the words.

"Now you ask ah? The golden amulet you wore everyday for weeks? It was I that granted your plaintive wishes no? Gave you everything your little heart desired." You stroke his face, letting your fingers linger on his lips.

"You?! The dragon necklace is...was you?! This whole time you were trapped within? Listening to me?"

"Not trapped, just a different form, and I didn't just listen, oh no...I watched you as well..." Your voice lowered to a husky whisper as you trail your hand through his silky black hair and watch a deep blush redden his cheeks. Quickly Prihyom turned away from your touch to hide his face.

"Aww, did I not give you everything you asked for?" You pout at him while he stutters

"I didn't...I mean I don't...well yes...but I couldn't have known the necklace was...was you?"

You lean close to him and notice his breathing speed up, you can hear his heart racing and it makes you smile in excitement.

"Aren't you satisfied with everything I have done for you?" You let your mouth hover over his while he pants and gulps air, his chest is heaving and sweat is starting to bead on his forehead. His cheeks are bright red now.

"What...what are you doing? What are you going to do!?" If he could, he would be thrashing, but your power holds him still.

"You didn't think I did all that for free did you? My dear, I feed off of you in exchange for what I gave!" You press your lips over his and suck the air right out of his lungs, pulling his face tightly against yours as you force your tongue into his mouth. Prihyom grunts, struggling to turn his face away again.

You pull back, anger reverting your hands back to their large, scaled form, grabbing his face firmly you stare intensely into his eyes.

"You are already mine Prihyom! From the first wish I granted you we became linked inexorably! If you want to break our partnership, then I will simply revoke all that I have granted to you!" You growl at him, letting him see your true demonic form for but an instant, power raging like fire inside your eyes.

Prihyom gasps and swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut against the image of your demonic form. You relax your features back into the pleasant mask you created for him. Stroking his head with your human hands you plant a kiss on his forehead.

"Don't fear me, I have been watching you all these months and have enjoyed doing everything I did for you. And I can do even more..."

"...if you will let me..."

You can sense him thinking about all the wonderful luck and prosperity that has befallen him since you came into his life; his physical transformation, his popularity, his charm, his wealth...

His eyes open tentatively and, seeing you gazing at him in such a lovely form he can't help but blush again.

"What...what will you do to me?" Prihyom whimpers, fear fills his voice, but his body betrays him, you can feel heat and tension building... elsewhere in him...you smile again and he knows you are well aware of his conflicting feelings.

"Oh I think you already know what I will do with you, don't you?" You push your body up against his, letting him feel the soft curves of your human form. You slid one hand under his shirt and up his chest, allowing a single claw to manifest itself, making a thin scratch into his skin, just enough to sting a bit, not enough to draw blood...yet...

Prihyom yelps, his breathing growing erratic again as you press his body into the bed underneath you, listening to his racing heart, feeling the heat radiating from his groin against yours. You twirl a finger into his hair and lock eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze has him hypnotized. Slowly you bring your lips to his and kiss him softly, savoring his taste again and again with small, sensual kisses that leave him breathless.

Sitting up you staddle his body between your thighs, and with a flick of your wrist all clothes are gone, nothing between your skin and his but air and heat. Prihyom nearly hyperventilates, taking in the entirety of your human form and you allow yourself a little giggle of pride for creating such an alluring physical shape after so many years of not having made one at all!

"You like what you see? I fashioned it just for you!"

You grab his limp hands, still paralyzed by your power, and guide them along the soft skin of your thighs, up your stomach and chest, pausing to hold them against your ample breasts. Prihyom moans, able to feel everything and not able to so much as twitch a finger. You delight in his helplessness, sliding his fingers gently along your nipples. It feels so good you grind your hips down against his body and hear him gasp and moan. Watching his face fill with desire as you lick and suck his finger, feeling his need as a growing firmness where your body and his meet. You lean down to kiss him deeply, his tongue meeting yours eagerly now. You devour his mouth in yours, drinking in his growing lust for you as a fine wine. Freeing him from the paralysis just enough to indulge him, Prihyom instantly wraps his arms around you and bucks his hips upward trying to bring the warm hollow of your body against his hard shaft. You immobilize his body completely again and laugh at his groaned frustration.

Now, you shift your form just a bit, and using your whip-like prehensile tail you firmly pin his arms above his head as your demon tongue lashes against his neck and slides downward, licking and tickling at the inner fold of his arms until he squeals, then flicking around his nipples making him whine nervously. You tease and suck his nipples until they are hard little nubs.

You know exactly what he wants, as you move lower on his body, feeling his muscles tense under the paralysis hold you still have on him and when your long, thick tongue begins to wrap around the hardened, aching shaft of his desire, Prihyom lets out a deep moan. You swallow his whole member with ease and swirl your tongue around and over the sensitive tip. Wanting to feed deeply upon his lust you again release your hold on his body and he is immediately thrusting desperately into your throat, his hands struggling against the strength of your tail. Your extra long tongue slurps the whole length of his shaft and curls down towards the more tender organs below. You can feel his legs trembling, his muscles tensing as he nears the peak, glancing up you watch his eyes roll back, his breathing all but stopped as he loses himself in ecstasy. You can taste him, swallowing his very essence, you drink in his vitality and feel it stoke your power like coal in a furnace.

As his body goes limp from expending himself you quickly flip him over, burying his face in the bed. Allowing yourself to partially revert to your demonic form you grab his hips in your large scaled hands, drawing a yelp from him as you plunge your huge tongue deep into his most intimate hole. He is howling like a madman while you tongue fuck him, your drool dripping down between his cheeks gripped tight in your claws. You feel him loosening up, thrusting himself back onto your tongue with eager abandon, chasing the wild throbbing feeling of your tongue stimulating his g-spot. You quickly draw back, making him whimper, loudly needy. As you position your even larger demonic appendage between his dripping wet cheeks, you pause, letting him feel the size difference of your monstrous phallus. Before he can turn or struggle you grip his hair and shove him down into the bed, thrusting yourself deep into his body at the same time. The mattress muffles his wailing as you slide your wickedly barbed shaft in and out of his tight hole, his muscles spasm, squeezing you so tight you stop moving and just enjoy the feel of his body struggling underneath you. Controlling the tip of your phallic appendage as easily as you could your finger or tongue, you find his sweet spot again and apply pressure to it as you grind your hips into his backside. It's all too much for Prihyom, he screams into his bed, his body shuddering as he cums again. The way his body clenches around your shaft as he bucks in ecstasy sends you over the edge as well. A terrifying roar bursts from your chest as you cum with him, your claws grip his skin too tightly, drawing blood in 5 fierce lines across his thighs. You fill his hole with your hot load and collapse atop him, nearly crushing him with your demon form. Panting and breathless you still manage to keep some sense and bring your body back to your smaller human form, but keep your demon phallus buried deep in him for a moment longer.

When you finally release him and roll off his back he is so silent you fear for a second you might have suffocated him! But then he too rolls over gasping for air, tears in his eyes. His beautiful hair is a tangled mess and his gorgeous face is red and marked from being shoved into the bed. You grab his shoulder firmly and pull him into an embrace, smattering his face with kisses.

"Is...our partnership... maintained...?" Prihyom gasps out. A deep rumbling laughter vibrates inside you.

"Yes indeed my sweet." You cradle him in your arms, despite your current smaller form your presence envelopes him completely, holding him as physically as your paralysis had. You stroke his hair mindlessly, listening to his breathing slow, thinking he has fallen asleep.

"You are frightening...and incredible...I...I like our... partnership..." He sleepily mumbles into your arms.

You chuckle softly, caressing his face.

You suddenly feel his hand on your lower appendage, still in demon form. He thumbs the barbs and bumps, all soft and limp now.

"I like this part as well." He admits shyly.

[cissa-calls]

Countdown to Agatha All Along: Day 844

Y/N: “You’re back! I thought you were just picking up groceries, what took so long?”

Wanda: “I forgot my wallet, so Agatha had to pay.”

Agatha: “I also did not have my wallet on me.”

Y/N: “Wait, how did you pay then? You didn’t steal did you?!”

Wanda: “NO! Though, someone had to be reminded of that.” *glares at Agatha*

Agatha: “Hey, I was just trying to hel-“ *Wanda steps on her foot* “- OW! It’s FINE THOUGH, I may not have had my wallet, but I had my change purse in my bag.”

Y/N: “No. You didn’t. Please tell you didn’t make the employees-“

Wanda: “She did. And it took forty-five MINUTES”

Agatha: “I didn’t know it would take that long to count up 34 dollars worth of quarters!”

[comeback-from-the-dead]

I feel like the Scarlet Witch fandom is dying; it's not the same anymore. Please, I want to go back to 2020 to early 2023. I need more people talking about Wanda. I need more Wanda edits. I need more of us talking about Wanda like she's our wild pet hamster. I miss when normal posts about Wanda get more than 100 notes, not just smut fics. I want to see different content every time I look at the Scarlet Witch tags. I wish everyone in this fandom acted like every other fandom. Please put her in a jar and shake her...Put her in a microwave and watch her spin. God, I miss her so much. I feel like a child whose mother never returns home. I miss my angry, pathetic woman. She's such a wet cat. She's so horrible. I love her so much. She has so much potential. I hate you, Kevin Feige and Michael Waldron. All of you can disagree with me all you want, but she's literally the most interesting M*rv*l character. I am literally so scared of being completely obsessed with something new because I am afraid I am going to forget about her. I am so dramatic... I am scared of falling out of love...

[ominous-faechild]

VERY important question for Fantasy (and ESECIALLY High Fantasy!!!) fans as well as everyone in my taglists!!!

Say you're reading the best, most original work of fiction yet. You're loving it. The worldbuilding's superb, the characters feel like real people, and you can tell everything is building up to something, even if you don't know what.

And you hear about a slumbering God of Chaos.

They're locked into a coma by the other gods for the crime of destroying the world of old.

What do you expect of this, and are you excited for that to happen?

My taglist: @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa @thecomfywriter @an-indecisive-nerd

@seastarblue @rae-butter @paeliae-occasionally @pluppsauthor @thelovelymachinery

@leahnardo-da-veggie @world-of-iridensia

[this-is-chaos-magick]

My (mcu) Wanda Maximoff Headcanons with a Little bit of Pietro, and MCU Cthton

Her favorite Ice Cream flavor is Pistachio

She have a collection of leather boots

She cooks noodles and fried egg at 3 am because she can't sleep

She's obsessed with Antique and Vintage items

Her and Pietro use to be in a band (she plays guitar and Pietro plays the drums)

She doesn't know how to ride a bike (because I can't)

She doesn't like attending big parties and hates large crowds

She owns a flip phone and doesn't have any Social media ( she owns a laptop tho for watching movies and searching stuff online)

She have a tons of cook book and like learning more recipes and cooking technique

She hates how everything have touch screens these days

She Knows a lot about Ancient history and have a tons of books about it

She likes watching Ghibli films and her top 4 Favorites are Porco Rosso (this film is so underated), Spirited Away, My Neighbor totoro and the wind rises

She have a passionate interest in cinema and her favorite director is Guillermo del Toro etc.

She hates people who have uses "ai" she hates people who doesn't care about the art of making, people who who watches movie and not "think" or care, she hates people who consumes media without thinking and analyzing it and who treats different types of art like it's just another product you can throw away once you're "done" with it

She doesn't have a favorite celebrities and can't stand people that are obsessed with famous peoples she thinks it's weird

She might not have a favorite celeb but she likes Al Pacino movies (she have a collection of them) she Likes Pacino too but she's not obsessed with his life

And let's be honest if Wanda is a real person she's one of the people that will hate the mcu

She prefers her steak well done and doesn't care if people tells her that that's the wrong way to cook a steak

She hates the tastes of matcha and Plain milk

Drinks coffee everyday like it's water

She used to work as a Convenience store cashier during her teenage years in sokovia

She hates people who are loud and have no respect of other people's personal space

She likes the peace of not knowing everything, she doesn't care about Celebrity issues, she doesn't care about big award shows and who won and who lost

She likes Dogs and her and Pietro Used to have a pet dog

--[ This part is like how I imagine Wanda got her powers and what is her relationship with Cthton]

[ Ihate the "I am an evil god and I am gonna make you evil things" bullshit it's boring and the "Wanda got her powers from the mind stone thing" I think it's just activate her powers, she got her]

Chthon watches over Wanda as she grew up and he's like....(Don't slap me please) Became like her father figure/weird imaginary best friend, growing up in Wanda's memory he's just a kind oldman/creatures that helps her manage and Cope her with the death of her (adopted) parents but then as time goes by he slowly disappears as she reaches adulthood and also as a child she's experiencing supernatural and paranormal activities she didn't know he is the reason she is seeing things until she became the Scarlet witch... There are so many things I want to say, like, Come on, the potential is there! Just imagine the drama of the Angst and Wanda having a father figure issue!!

She's adopted by her Aunt and Uncle (her and Pietro didn't know)

Her real Mom actually died during childbirth

Wanda's real Mom use to have a lot of nightmares about a horrifying God he have large horns and have tentacles and he's always talking about how her daughter will "reshape" the word

She became paranoid and have a sensitive pregnancy

Days before her due Date (her husband 🧲 is at work and have to take an overnight shift) some Strange men broke into her House (A.w.o.l Sorcerer's from kamar taj that are afraid about Cthton's resurrection) and Threaten her to abort the babies but she refused so she decided to escape into the Forrest while scaping she feel her water broke and she decided to hide in a cave

While she's on Labor she realizes that she got shot and is losing a lot of blood her vision is blurring and she Knows she's dying she can't come out of hiding yet because the men who wants to kill her are outside looking for her so she begs and pray to the god that she's been seeing in her dreams to save her children, she doesn't care that she does but she wants her children to live and he appears infront of her, he is 9ft tall he have no eyes but he knows he's looking at her...she desperately begs to him to save her children and he told her that he won't let Wanda dies and because He have chosen her and he will only heal Pietro because he knows the boy will die anyway

The next Morning People find Wanda's Mother dead body in the cave and they find 2 healthy babies laying next to her

I know you're wondering how I come up with this and idk either it's just one night I am thinking about Wanda's parents and her scarlet witch lore and like...*pop* 😬😬

I am gonna make part 2 because I have too many thoughts about this woman | some of this...maybe it's me projecting to her

(sorry bad English)

[madwomansapologist]

the other magical girl in town | agatha harkness

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Agatha Harkness | AO3

synopsis: After escaping from being burned alive, the last thing you expected to have to deal with was another witch. But its been a long time since things stopped going the way you expect them to go. Agatha wasn't the worst thing you faced this day.

warnings: gn!reader. cottage core romance! I'VE SAID COTTAGE CORE ROMANCE. a sequence to that.

Normally you would notice earlier that somebody was following you. From the village's core, to your remote cabin, was a long path to cross. In your defense, you thought you had killed everyone on this shitty village.

They said you sould your soul. What if you had? What if you had laid with the devil himself? Someone that was punished for making questions has more to add into your life than those that burned whoever don't fit into the norm.

The worst part is that you never done something against them. All you wanted was to rest, to learn, be comfortable. All you wanted was to enjoy your own life. But of course you're the one to blame for their destructive paranoias. That's tiring. Those constant chases, your life being torned apart by people that don't want to understand what the world has to offer.

And now you're the villain. From now on, anyone that ever think about what happened today will say that a heartless witch killed innocent people. No one will remember the person who was dragged by their hair while begging to be left alone. No one will say that maybe if they didn't want to die, they could have left you alone.

So be it. You were tired of this village anyway.

It was only when you landed in front of your cabin that you perceived it. What gave her away was the perfume. With the lavender plantations surrounding his house, it was hard to miss. That delicate peach aroma. Gentle, but present.

With that, you noticed the other signs. That shadow over your shoulders. The wind barrier behind you. You know your power. You know how strong you are, and how demolisher you can be. There is only one reason for someone to be right behind you. "What do you want, witch?"

Agatha landed on the floor, but didn't step furter. "I saw everything." She clenched her fists, looking at some point far away in the horizon. "It was cruel."

You turned to her, staring at her wide green eyes. Blue energy surrounded your hand, and you quickly thought about a rune or two that could be used if things went south. "So you want to play the hero? Will you avenge those poor innocent people? Go ahead. Try me."

"Your wrists." Agatha pointed at them. "Are they burning?"

That made you took a step back, surprised by the sudden change of subject. "What do you want?"

"I remember how it felt", Agatha told you. "The ropes against your skin, your muscles stretched, you heartbeats louder than you conscience. And the fear. I still feel it. To know that you were nothing but something that should rot."

You didn't move as she approached. Didn't flinch when she touched your hand. Didn't struggle when she stroked your rope-bruised wrists. You did nothing but watch her.

"I killed them too", she caressed your skin. It was so gentle, so caring. So different from her words. "And I would do it again. I would kill anyone, no matter what it takes, that ever made me feel like that again."

"Why?" Your mouth freed the words before you could chose what you would say. "Why did they hurted you?"

"Because I knew more than they wanted me to", she raised your hand to her face, and left a delicate kiss on the thin skin. She rubbed her nose against your skin, the cold air sending goosebumps up your arms. "Because they couldn't handle to look at me and see what they would never be."

"Do you fear me?" You whispered, unable to look away from her eyes. It was so easy to get lost in her immensity.

Agatha smiled against your hand. She shook her head, breathing your sweet scent. "Do you?"

The answer came in the form of an invitation. Agatha entered your house, sat in your kitchen, ate your food. You talked about the past, about the bonfire, about the sky. And for a few hours, you forget. About all those horrible things that just happened.

It was only you, Agatha, and the cold breeze.

As the days pass, the need to find a new place to live becomes lost. There were many villages nearby, places to buy food and anything else needed, and with the right runes you made the abandoned village forgotten. But there was no reason to pretend that she wasn't the reason you wanted to stay there.

That Agatha teaching you about runes in your room wasn't worth the trips to the distant market. That she failing at baking a cake wasn't worth the power it took from you to hide the village. That Agatha massaging your wrists wasn't worth everything.

"I just don't see why", you told her. Lying on your bed, your hair spread across the sheet, you stared at the ceiling of the cabin. "To find somewhere safe, invent a new story, put on so much effort just to live somewhere else. I pretty much rather stay there."

"We could live in castles. Surrounded by important, inteligent people. Or we could go to a different country. I heard that Germany is pretty this time of the year", Agatha turned over in bed, lying on her side to face you. She tucked your hair behind your ear. Agatha didn't let her hand go away from you. "Anywhere but Spain."

You giggle at her words. "Are you serious?"

"Unless you want to get burned alive..."

"No", you interrupted her. "You say 'we'. Did you meant that?"

Agatha caressed your ear, playing with your lobe. "My beautiful enchantress, sweet little witch, would you like to travel with me? To met different people, stay on different places, live infinite lives? Would you do that with me? Forever and evermore?"

"Yes", you grabbed her hand, pulling it closer to your mouth. You kissed each of her knuckles. "Yes, I do."

Agatha held his face as if it were the most delicate thing in the world. As if it were the greatest treasure she had ever seen in her long life. "Anywhere but Spain?

"Anywhere but Spain."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[rizzlesregal13]

No! You Can’t Hex A Four-Year-Old!

***Agatha x Reader 💜- Just a typical Saturday in the Harkness household. With two kids in tow, it’s a given that chaos will ensue!***

You know those mornings where you wake up to the smell of fresh coffee, sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window, and the love of your life curled up beside you? Yeah…. This is not one of those mornings.

Instead, all I can hear is my eight old son screaming “Mom, I can’t find my cleats!”

Ella, meanwhile, my four year old daughter, is in the kitchen, half-dressed in mismatched pyjamas, aggressively dunking a cookie into her milk with the conviction of a child who knows no limits… much like her other mother.

Agatha lounges on the sofa, swirling her morning coffee like she has all the time in the world, completely unbothered by the domestic apocalypse unfolding around us.

I stare at her, somehow refraining from placing my hand on my hip.

“You could help, you know.”

“Oh, I could.” She takes a sip. “But this is wildly more entertaining.”

Nicki skids into the living room, his socks sliding across the hardwood. “Mom, I swear I left them by the door!”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“You swore that last time… and they were in the fridge.”

Agatha hums. “Ah yes, the great cleat hunt of last Saturday. A true moment in history.”

“You are so not helpful,” I mutter, shoving cushions off the sofa in case his cleats have somehow ended up there… I mean with this kid, they could honestly be anywhere!

“Oh, but darling, I am,” she says, tilting her head. “I simply offer my assistance in… unconventional ways.”

Ella climbs onto Agatha’s lap, getting chocolate milk all over her pyjamas, and I wait for her to lose it. But instead, she smirks at me over Ella’s dark curls.

“This is karma for making me get up before noon.”

“This is parenthood, Agatha.” I kick aside a pile of toys, still no cleats in sight. “When did our weekends go from hotel suites and silk sheets to lost shoes and milk spills?”

“The moment you decided we should be responsible adults and become parents.”

“Oh, I decided? You were very involved in that process too you know.”

She lifts a single manicured brow. “As I recall, I was merely the catalyst of your bad decisions.”

Before I can respond, Nicki wails, “We’re gonna be late! Coach is gonna be sooo mad!”

“Maybe if you kept your stuff in one place, this wouldn’t happen,” I say, crouching to look under the sofa.

Agatha sighs dramatically, as if the weight of the world rests on her shoulders.

“Fine, fine. Let’s get this over with.” She flicks her fingers, and… Nicki’s cleats materialise mid-air, dropping directly onto my head.

I glare at her. “For fuc…. You knew where they were this whole time?”

She grins, absolutely shameless. “Of course. I found them in the bathtub last night. But watching you struggle is the highlight of my morning.”

“I really hate you sometimes.”

“And yet, you’re still madly in love with me,” she purrs, eyes twinkling, that smirk that does things to me plastered over her lips.

Nicki grabs his cleats and bolts for the door, yelling, “Come on mom! We’re so late!”

I groan and grab my handbag. “I am in love with you, but I also think I might murder you in your sleep one day.”

Agatha stands, pressing a lingering kiss to my cheek, her voice low and teasing. “Mmm. Promise?”

I shove her toward the kitchen. “Go clean up your daughter.”

“Our daughter,” she corrects.

“Not when she’s that sticky, she’s not.”

Agatha laughs, and despite the chaos, the mess, and the sheer exhaustion that comes with our life, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Even if I am going to get an earful from the soccer coach.

***

I barely get the front door open before Nicki barrels through, his cleats still very much on, and leaving a fresh trail of mud across the hardwood floor.

“Nicki, cleats off!” I call after him, but it’s useless. He’s already halfway to the kitchen, probably raiding the fridge like a starving trash panda. Before I can properly groan about the mess, there’s a blur of sparkles and frilly tulle flying at me. Ella launches herself into my arms, clutching onto me like a baby koala, her tiny face pressing into my neck. And then… tears.

“Mommy, I don’t wanna go to Maddie’s birthday party!” she wails.

Shit.

Maddie’s birthday party, was that even on the calendar?

I glance up just in time to see Agatha coming down the stairs, her expression as amused as it is smug.

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

I exhale through my nose, shifting Ella on my hip.

“No,” I lie. “I just… got distracted.”

Agatha flicks her fingers, and just like that, a perfectly wrapped present in a little party bag appears out of thin air.

“Good thing one of us actually keeps track of these things."

I roll my eyes, but I’m secretly relieved.

“Okay, Miss Omniscient. Why doesn’t Ella want to go to said party?”

Agatha frowns slightly, looking at Ella, who’s still sniffling into my shirt. “She wouldn’t say.”

I rub soothing circles on Ella’s back, kissing the top of her curly hair.

“Hey, honeybee, what’s the matter? Why don’t you want to go?”

She hiccups, snuggling closer before mumbling, “Maddie’s mean to me.”

And just like that, I feel Agatha’s entire posture shift.

Gone is the relaxed, sarcastic witch who found amusement in my domestic failures. Instead she’s turned into a full on protective mom, meaning she’s sharp, dangerous, and entirely too willing to hex a four-year-old.

Agatha folds her arms, her voice deceptively light.

“Oh? And what exactly has little Maddie been doing?”

I shoot her a warning look.

“Agatha.”

“What?” She tilts her head, feigning innocence. “I’m just curious.”

“I know that look,” I say, voice firm. “You are not casting a spell on a four-year-old.”

Her lips twitch, but there’s something deadly in her eyes.

“Technically, I wasn’t going to.”

“Agatha.”

She sighs dramatically, flipping her dark hair over one shoulder.

“Fine. No spells. But if she needs a mild scare….”

“No.”

“…a gentle lesson….”

“Agatha.”

She groans, tossing her hands up in defeat.

“Fiiiine. I suppose we’ll handle this the boring, mature way.”

I nod, satisfied. “I’ll talk to Maddie’s mom, and we’ll sort this out like adults.”

Ella lifts her head, her tear-streaked face looking between the two of us. “You promise she won’t be mean anymore?”

I smooth her hair back. “I promise I’ll talk to her, okay? And if you still don’t want to go, we don’t have to.”

She sniffs, considering.

“Can I have cake and then leave?”

Agatha grins, pressing a kiss to Ella’s forehead.

“Now that is a solid plan.”

I sigh, but I can’t help but smile. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

As soon as Ella wriggles out of my arms and runs into the living room, presumably to wipe her tear-streaked face on my sofa cushions, I turn toward the stairs.

“Nicki! Go upstairs and change! Clean clothes, and I mean actual clean, not just sniff-tested clean!”

A muffled, “Ugh, fiiine!” echoes from somewhere deep in the house.

I rub my temples, mentally preparing for yet another round of herding my children like wild animals, when I feel Agatha’s arms snake around my waist from behind.

“You know,” she murmurs, pressing herself against me, “watching you in full Mom Mode is oddly appealing.”

I snort, leaning back against her.

“Oh yeah? You mean when I’m sleep-deprived, covered in child-related fluids, and constantly five minutes away from a possible nervous breakdown?”

She hums, her lips ghosting the shell of my ear. “Mmm, precisely. It’s unusually attractive.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You have terrible taste.”

Agatha smirks against my skin. “Tell that to the incredibly sexy woman I married.”

I roll my eyes, turning in her arms so we’re face-to-face.

“You mean the incredibly exhausted woman you married.”

She grins, tapping my chin with the pink party bag. “Exhausted, yes. But still undeniably hot.”

I raise a brow, skeptical. “Even after yelling at our son about laundry and refereeing a pre-party meltdown?”

Agatha’s eyes gleam with mischief. “Especially after that.”

I shake my head, but I can’t stop the smile creeping onto my face.

“You’re crazy.”

She leans in, her voice dropping to that dangerously smooth tone that always spells trouble.

“You love how crazy I am.”

Before I can argue… because, let’s face it, she’s right… Nicki thunders down the stairs, somehow managing to not be in clean clothes.

“Nicholas.” My voice is pure warning.

He pauses mid-stride, looks down at his still-muddy shorts, and sighs.

“Ugh! Fiiine! Changing again!”

He stomps back up the stairs, and Agatha laughs, pulling me closer.

“Admit it,” she teases, voice full of fondness. “You wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

I exhale, looking toward the living room where Ella is now humming to herself, seemingly over her crisis. Then toward the staircase where Nicki is loudly complaining from his bedroom about how unfair his life is; and finally, back to Agatha, who looks at me like I’m still the same person she fell for, even if I now come with a side of domestic insanity.

I shake my head, sighing dramatically. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Agatha grins. “Told you so.”

I swat her arm. “Shut up and grab Ella’s jacket.”

She smirks, stepping back. “Yes, Mommy.”

I groan. “Never call me that again”

But as I grab my keys and corral my family toward the door, I know Agatha’s right. It’s chaos. It’s exhausting, but deep down I love every second of it.

***

Agatha pulls the car up outside Maddie’s house, eyeing the aggressively pastel-coloured decorations with thinly veiled disgust. She drums her fingers on the steering wheel, then turns to me, her voice sickeningly casual.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to put a curse on that little brat?”

From the backseat, Nicki chimes in immediately.

“Mom’s right. Everyone at school knows Maddie is a total brat.”

I twist in my seat to give him a look. “Nicki.”

“What? It’s true.” He shrugs. “She’s, like, legendary for it in school.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“We do not call four-year-olds brats, and we definitely do not put curses on them.” Then, shooting a pointed look at Agatha, “Right?”

Agatha sighs dramatically, draping herself over the steering wheel like she’s being personally victimised.

“Fine. But if she happens to trip over her own feet later, or her tongue gets stuck to a popsicle, I claim no responsibility.”

I unclip Ella from her car seat, hoisting her onto my hip.

“You two stay in the car.”

“Gladly,” Agatha says. “The sheer amount of pink in that house is making my skin itch.”

I roll my eyes and start walking toward the house when…

“Y/N.”

I turn back to see Agatha, her smug smile firmly in place, dangling the pink birthday bag off her finger.

I sigh, rubbing my temple. “Right. The present.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t want to show up empty-handed. That might be—gasp—rude.”

I march back, snatch the bag from her hand, and give her the most insincere “Thank you” I can manage.

She smirks, eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re very welcome, darling.”

Muttering under my breath, I head inside, adjusting Ella on my hip as she immediately wriggles free to run off toward the bouncy castle in the back garden. I scan the room, looking for Maddie’s mom, and oh… there she is.

Platinum blonde extensions, fake boobs that look like they defy the laws of physics, and the kind of spray tan that would rival Donald Trump’s. She’s holding a large glass of white wine at 1 p.m. and laughing just a little too loudly at whatever the other moms are saying.

I take a deep breath and approach.

“Hi,” I start, my tone as friendly as I can muster. “I’m Ella’s mom.”

She flicks her gaze over me, taking in my shirt, jeans and sneakers, before her lips stretch into a perfectly practiced smile.

“Oh! Hi!” she drawls, drawing out the syllable like she’s already bored.

I clear my throat. “I just wanted to have a quick word about Maddie and Ella. Ella mentioned that Maddie has been… less than kind to her.”

Her smile freezes, just a flicker of annoyance passing through her perfectly botoxed face. “Oh, kids will be kids,” she says dismissively. “They’re four. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

I press my lips together, keeping my tone even. “Right. It’s just that Ella has been really upset about it, and I think it’s important to make sure—”

“Oh, honey.” She laughs, a high-pitched, rehearsed sound. “You’re one of those parents.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

She waves a manicured hand, already looking toward the other moms like she’s ready to be done with this conversation.

“The ones who get worked up over every little thing. If your daughter can’t handle a little playground drama, maybe she’s just… sensitive.”

My hands tighten around the party bag. I take a slow breath, reigning in my very unkind thoughts.

“I’m just asking that we encourage the kids to be kind to each other. That’s all.”

She takes a sip of her wine, completely unbothered.

“Mmm. Sure.”

I stare at her. She is not taking this seriously.

I can feel the irritation creeping up my spine. But before I can say anything else, I catch a glimpse through the window… Agatha, still in the car, watching me with a knowing smirk.

I take a slow, deep breath, trying one last time to reason with Maddie’s mom, but it’s like talking to a brick wall… one covered in fake tan and a superiority complex.

“Well,” I say, forcing a smile, “thanks for the chat.”

She barely acknowledges me, already turning back to her group, wine in hand, dismissing me like I was never there.

I clench my jaw and step away, calling out toward the backyard.

“Ella!”

A few seconds later, she comes bounding in, curls bouncing, her party dress slightly rumpled from whatever she’s been up to in the garden.

“Come on, babygirl,” I say, scooping her up into my arms. “We’re leaving. Let’s go get ice cream with Mommy and Nicki.”

Ella gasps, horrified. “But you said I could have cake!”I

hesitate. “I did, didn’t I?”

That’s when I see it.

The cake.

It’s an obnoxious shade of pink, layered with enough frosting to send a grown adult into a diabetic coma. It sits on a pristine white tablecloth, placed just so on the delicate little serving table. It looks expensive.

And suddenly, suddenly, I have an idea.

I know I shouldn’t.

I really shouldn’t.

But, you know what? Screw it.

With a flick of my fingers, my magic sparks to life, humming warm and familiar at my fingertips. The table leg trembles, creaks… then, with a sharp crack, it snaps clean in two.

The table collapses.

And the entire cake crashes to the floor in an explosion of frosting and pink shattered fondant.

A gasp ripples through the room. Maddie’s mom shrieks, her wine glass slipping from her hand.

I blink innocently, shifting Ella higher on my hip.

Ella looks up at me, her big blue eyes wide with delight. She leans in and whispers, “Mommy, did you do that?”

I kiss her forehead. “Do what, honey? I don’t know what you mean.”

And with that, I turn and walk out, leaving behind the absolute shit fit of a meltdown happening inside.

When I reach the car, Agatha’s already watching me with raised brows, arms lazily draped over the steering wheel. She takes in my smug expression, Ella’s satisfied grin, and the sounds of absolute chaos erupting behind me.

She smirks. “We’re off to get ice cream, huh?”

I nod, setting Ella in her car seat. “Yep.”

As I’m strapping her in, Ella, ever the traitor, pipes up.

“Mommy broke the table and made the cake go boom!”

I freeze.

Slowly, I look over my shoulder at Agatha.

She’s staring at me, expression unreadable. Then…A slow, wicked grin spreads across her face.

“Well, well, well,” she drawls, delight sparking in her blue eyes. “Look at you. Breaking the rules. Being a bad mom.”

I snap Ella’s seatbelt into place and straighten up, glaring at Agatha. “Don’t start.”

She’s grinning so smugly now, like a cat that just found the cream. “I knew you had it in you.”

I roll my eyes and climb into the passenger seat.

“Just drive."

Agatha starts the car, still obnoxiously pleased. “You know,” she muses, pulling away from the curb, “I’m almost disappointed I wasn’t the one to do it.”

I shake my head, but I can’t help the little smirk tugging at my lips. “I’d say you’re rubbing off on me, but honestly? That woman deserved it.”

Agatha grins, reaching over to squeeze my thigh.

“Attagirl.”

I shake my head, laughing as Ella giggles from the backseat.

Nicki, completely oblivious, pipes up. “Wait…what happened?”

“Nothing!” I say quickly, shooting a look at Ella.

She giggles again, whispering, “Mommy’s magic is sneaky.”

Agatha sighs dreamily. “I am so proud right now.”

I groan, leaning my head back against the seat. “We are so lucky these kids haven’t grown into their powers yet.”

Agatha smirks. “Yet.”

And with that mildly terrifying thought hanging in the air, we drive off in search of ice cream, leaving the wreckage of Maddie’s birthday party far, far behind.

***

The house is finally quiet.

Nicki and Ella are sprawled on opposite ends of the sofa, completely zonked out, the remnants of their earlier ice creams still visible in the slight stickiness on Ella’s hands and the faint chocolate smudge at the corner of Nicki’s mouth. The movie they were watching still plays on the TV, casting a soft glow over their peaceful, sleeping faces.

From my spot against the kitchen counter, I exhale slowly, taking in the rare moment of stillness.

Agatha slides up beside me, pressing a glass of red wine into my hand.

“For surviving another day in this madhouse.”

I clink her glass and take a grateful sip, letting the warmth spread through me.

She watches the kids for a moment, then smirks, tilting her head toward me. “So...The cake.”

I sigh, already knowing where this is going.

“Don’t.”

“Oh, but I must.” She grins, swirling her wine. “You, of all people. Breaking the rules. Embracing your dark side.” She waggles her fingers mockingly. “You couldn’t resist, could you?”

I shoot her a dry look. “At least I didn’t hex a four-year-old. Which, let’s be honest, you totally would have.”

Agatha sips her wine, completely unrepentant.

“And she would’ve deserved it.”

I shake my head, laughing softly. “You're unhinged.”

“But,” she leans in slightly, smirking, “You still married me.”

I look at her then, really look at her - the way the dim kitchen light catches the sharp angles of her face, the way her smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, amused and knowing.

She’s older now. Debatably wiser. A little less reckless, maybe, but every inch still her. Sharp, unpredictable, undeniably magnetic. The woman I fell in love with, the woman who still makes my heart stumble in my chest just by being here.

I move toward her, the warmth of the wine settling in my chest, but it’s not the drink making me feel lightheaded... it’s her.

Hooking my thumbs into the loops of her jeans, I tug her forward, closing the small distance between us. She lets me, her body falling into mine like she’s always belonged there.

Agatha smirks, tilting her chin up ever so slightly, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Oh? Feeling frisky, are we?”

I roll my eyes, but my fingers tighten at her waist, holding her close. “Just taking advantage of a rare moment of silence.”

She hums, dragging her hands up my arms, settling them over my shoulders like she has all the time in the world.

“Hmm. And here I was thinking you were about to admit how irresistibly drawn you are to me.”

I scoff, but the corner of my mouth betrays me with the smallest smile.

“Don’t push it.”

She grins. “Or what?”

I don’t answer. I just kiss her.

It’s slow at first, our lips pressing, a familiar warmth sparking between us. But then she deepens it, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. I sigh against her mouth, hands sliding around her back, melding her to me like I can’t bear to let go.

She tastes like red wine and something distinctly her, and I know, I never stood a chance.

Agatha makes a quiet, satisfied noise, her fingers teasing at the hem of my shirt.

“You know,” she murmurs against my lips, “if we’re very quiet, we could sneak upstairs and…”

A loud, exaggerated groan comes from the couch and interrupts us.

We break apart just in time to see Nicki shifting under his blanket, his eyes still closed, but his face twisted in the universal look of an absolutely disgusted child.

“Ugh,” he mutters, half-asleep. “You guys are so gross when you do that .”

Agatha pulls back just enough to rest her forehead against mine, laughter bubbling up in her chest.

“You hear that? We’re gross.”

I sigh dramatically. “Guess that’s our cue to behave.”

She grins, pressing one last lingering kiss to the corner of my mouth before stepping back.

“For now.”

I roll my eyes, biting back a smile. “Come on. Let’s get these two up to bed before we scar them for life.”

Agatha sighs, stretching. “Fine. But I fully expect you to finish what you started later.”

I shake my head, amused.

“You’re incorrigible.”

She winks. “Stop complaining, you know you love it.”

I huff out a laugh, moving to scoop Ella into my arms while Agatha nudges Nicki back awake.

Yeah… I do love it … all of it … this crazy, chaotic life of ours, that I wouldn’t change for the world.

Also on AO3 - Writtenwhiledreaming 💜

[thesorcererpoet]

Hello! Today we are being asked to think about the people we want around us. When the eight of cups appears, it looks like it is a time in which we must distance ourselves from certain influences and relationships for our own highest good. Paired here with the three of cups, I would suggest looking at what makes you feel good, who do you have a good time around? Those people who aren’t hurting you and support you unequivocally. The people who celebrate your victories and stand by you during your losses. Those are your people.

For a reading please dm me and I will get back to you with available slots and prices. Much love x

[noobiestnoober]

Truth or Dare: The Mikaelson Invasion (Sequel to “Truth or Dare Gone Wrong”)

Here's the official sequel to Truth or Dare Gone Wrong, where Klaus Mikaelson and Co., crashes the next game night—and brings all his chaos with him.

Three days had passed since the truth-or-dare spell incident. Three long days where Damon still refused to look at his reflection for too long, and Stefan pretended he hadn’t recited rhyming couplets for hours on end. You, on the other hand, had finally stopped glowing—but not before Caroline teased you into wearing sunglasses indoors. No one had dared say the words “truth” or “dare” out loud since. It was an unspoken pact, one rooted in the shared trauma of enchanted glitter, magical hiccups, and the sheer audacity of Stefan reciting his own Shakespearean tragedy as narration to everyone’s suffering.

So when the doorbell rang that evening, you were expecting pizza. Something simple. Comforting. Absolutely, undeniably non-magical.

Instead, when you opened the door, you were greeted by Klaus Mikaelson standing on the porch, looking far too smug for someone who hadn’t been invited. He was dressed in dark grey and black, casual but effortlessly intimidating. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his coat, and his smile was the kind that usually preceded terrible ideas.

"Hello, love," he said smoothly, eyes scanning the interior of the Salvatore house behind you. "Word reached me that Mystic Falls had itself a rather... colorful game night. Pink-haired Damon. Rhyming Stefan. And you—glowing like a Christmas angel. Must’ve been a good time."

You narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms. "It wasn’t a good time. It was a near-apocalyptic event in a cozy sweater. And how exactly did you find out?"

He stepped forward just slightly, enough for you to catch a hint of whatever expensive cologne he was wearing—a mix of spice and arrogance. "Damon sent a picture. And a voice message. It was mostly swearing, but the hair really told the story."

You tried to close the door on him, but Klaus, being Klaus, stopped it with a single finger, still smiling as if this were all a charming misunderstanding.

"Don’t be like that," he said. "I brought reinforcements."

The words hadn’t even settled before Rebekah strolled into view behind him, arms laden with wine and something suspiciously like playing cards. She looked far too pleased for someone crashing an evening uninvited. Kol wasn’t far behind, sipping something amber from a crystal glass he definitely hadn’t poured inside his own home.

You sighed. Deeply. From the soul.

"You’re not really planning to crash game night, are you?"

Kol shrugged with a grin. "We heard there were spells, psychological warfare, and bodily transformations. Of course we came."

Inside, Damon must have caught the drift, because he stormed toward the door from the hallway, his hair still faintly pink in the overhead light despite Bonnie’s attempt to fix it the night before. The color had faded to more of a soft rose gold, but the trauma was eternal.

"Absolutely not," he said before anyone else could speak. "There is no way I'm letting glitter-hiccups over there turn this into a circus. Again."

Klaus, with a faux-innocent blink, said, "Damon, I’m hurt. I didn’t even bring Hope this time."

Caroline appeared a moment later, eyebrows lifting in perfect sync as she took in the Originals like unwelcome party guests. Her gaze landed on Klaus for an extra beat, then flicked away.

Elena, behind her, looked wary. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

"No, it's not," Bonnie added from the doorway to the kitchen, holding a bowl of popcorn like it was a defensive weapon. "And I'm not fixing anyone’s magic-induced wardrobe malfunctions tonight. That spell was a one-time deal."

But despite the warnings and the sighs and the collective sense of déjà vu, somehow, once again, everyone found themselves gathered in the Salvatore living room. The coffee table had been cleared, the cushions rearranged into a casual circle, and the dreaded bottle placed in the center like a cursed relic that had never once brought joy to anyone.

Rebekah uncorked the wine.

Kol spun the bottle first.

The game had begun.

The first few rounds were manageable, in the way that any situation involving the Mikaelsons could be considered manageable. Elena was dared to swap phones with Damon for five minutes, resulting in a tense silence as she scrolled and then announced loudly that she would never be the same. Damon turned to Bonnie and muttered something about encryption spells and memory loss potions. Bonnie refused.

Caroline, visibly regretting staying, dared Rebekah to sing the Mystic Falls High cheer in full. Rebekah complied—but only after compelling the stereo to play a background beat and forcing Stefan to beatbox. His beatboxing was, unfortunately, better than anyone expected. That somehow made it worse.

When the bottle landed on Klaus, he leaned forward, elbow resting on one bent knee, his voice slow and deliberate. “Truth.”

Kol grinned immediately, sensing an opportunity to stir the pot. “Is it true that you once enchanted your own reflection to wink back at you in every mirror?”

Klaus barely blinked. “Only when I was feeling dramatic.”

That somehow broke the room into low, hesitant laughter. You watched him closely, unsure what his angle was. He didn’t just come to tease Damon. Klaus never did anything without some deeper motive.

Eventually, the bottle pointed at you. You stared at it like it had betrayed you personally.

Klaus smirked. "Truth or dare, love?"

Everyone watched. You hesitated for only a second too long.

"Dare," you said finally, because pride was a dangerous thing.

The smile that curled on Klaus’ lips was both charming and menacing. "Let Bonnie cast a spell on me. Anything she likes."

You blinked. “Wait. That’s a dare for me?”

He tilted his head. “You dared me last time, didn’t you? I’m only returning the favor.”

Bonnie looked between you and Klaus warily. “You sure about this?”

He nodded. “Completely.”

There was a beat of tense silence as Bonnie stood. Her fingers flexed, magic already humming in the air around her. She didn’t speak the spell aloud this time—she simply moved her hands in a smooth arc, whispered something too soft for anyone else to hear, and let the magic slip into place.

At first, nothing happened. Then Klaus sneezed. And again. On the third sneeze, a puff of shimmering pink glitter burst from his mouth and floated lazily to the floor. Rebekah covered her mouth with both hands. Kol was on the floor, laughing so hard he nearly spilled his drink.

Stefan leaned forward, eyes wide. "Was that—"

“Glitter,” Bonnie confirmed. “Every time he lies. Or gets annoyed.”

“Which is always,” Damon said, practically gleeful.

Klaus narrowed his eyes and sneezed again, the glitter now catching in his lashes. You tried not to laugh, but it was a losing battle. Caroline gave up entirely and started filming with her phone. Elena didn’t even bother hiding her amusement.

Klaus looked at you, eyes still glittering, and said flatly, “This isn’t over.”

You smiled. “That wasn’t a lie. No glitter.”

He sneezed again. A lot of glitter.

“I stand corrected,” you said.

And Klaus, sneezing, sparkling, and still somehow managing to look vaguely threatening, glared at the lot of you as Kol clapped him on the back, laughing too hard to breathe.

Somewhere deep down, you knew this wouldn’t be the last of it. But for tonight? You’d take the win

[thesorcererpoet]

Hit me!

witchcraft ask game

except it's actually real fucking specific and possibly shadow work in disguise idk

What are your opinions on AI in Witchcraft?

How do you feel about pop culture deities?

Opinions on fantasy depictions of witchcraft/paganism?

Thoughts on Astral pregnancy?

Do you think witchcraft is a religion or a practice? Why/why not?

What do you think of Aleister Crowley?

Opinions on Wicca?

What do you think of the divine feminine/masculine archetypes?

Do you think they're should be a set period before someone becomes a full-fledged witch?

What do you think of Gerald Gardner?

What are your thoughts on odinism?

Do you think witchcraft is inherently political?

Do you think you can hex/curse/jinx a deity? Do you think you should?

How different do you think your gods are from other religion's gods? What work have you done to deconstruct that?

Do you believe in spiritual psychosis?

How do you feel about TERF witches?

What is your moral code? How do you justify that?

Do you wish paganism were more organised?

Do you think it's okay to have a sexual relationship with a deity? What about romantic (i.e. godspousing)?

Do you research ex-pagans viewpoints with an open mind?

Have you ever been in argument/sent hate to another witchcraft blog? What was the story? Do you still think you were right?

Do you believe in closed practices?

Do you believe in cultural appropriation?

Outside of the online space, where do you get your resources from?

What makes someone a real witch?

Are you a real witch?

Are you confident in your beliefs?

What do you think happens when we die?

Why are you a witch? What need does it serve?

What do you think is a scam in witchcraft?

What post have you seen recently that makes you wanna scream?

What's your hottest take in the witchcraft space?

Do you move out of fear or love?

---

Please feel free to reblog, and send me an ask <3

[cissa-calls]

Countdown to Agatha: Day 766

Y/N: “Can a solar eclipse affect your magic?”

Wanda: “That’s something I’m still unsure of myself! Since the source of my magic is chaos itself, the confusion and disarray brought on by an eclipse has the potential to create an even greater well of energy. But, that makes magic cast under it more fragile.”

Y/N: “Oh, but then what about Agatha?”

Agatha: “My powers come from a book. Since I’m not an ancient, prophetic celestial being connected with creation itself, no, the eclipse does not affect my magic. It’s hard to mess with the logic of ~book~”

Y/N: “Untrue! You can’t read the book when it’s dark from an eclipse!”

Agatha, sarcastically: “Wow. You sure know how to make a girl feel like a powerful conduit of magic.”

Wanda: “…still bitter about the whole “trying to take my powers and then failing to ascend past your mortal form and magic?””

Agatha: “Grrrrr, no.”

Y/N: “Agatha, it’s not polite to lie.”

Agatha: “Considering the amount of impolite things I want to commit right now, lying is your best option.”

[comeback-from-the-dead]

Hello its me yapping again... about that witch from Marvel sorry bad English

Scarlet witch solo film but instead of being your typical 'mcu magic user shooting laser beams/lame-portaling to different dimensions plot ' it's Wanda Traveling the World Investigating and solving paranormal Cases, committing exorcism ,Collecting weird possessed knick knacks, Interacting with Supernatural entities like Actual Angels and Demons... Ghost? gnomes? Fairies? Werewolf? vampire?etc..like imagine them being an actual entities and creatures ( I hate that mcu always Scientify/Alienfied (?) Supernatural Entities and mythological creatures) boringggg

I think with an actual creative writer they can make mcu Wanda and mcu Chthon interesting and entertaining not just another "I am demon and I made you do bad things because I chosen you plot" please like imagine if he and Wanda actually met before but Wanda did not know he was a demon, they met after her parents die and he's like....(Don't slap me please) Became like her father figure/weird imaginary best friend, growing up in Wanda's memory he's just a kind oldman/creatures that helps her manage and Cope her with the death of her parents but then he randomly disappears as she reaches adulthood and also as a child she's experiencing supernatural and paranormal activities she didn't know he is the reason she is seeing things until she became the Scarlet witch... there is so many things I want to say....like come onnn the potential is there!Just Imagine The Drama The Angst and Wanda Having a Father(Figure) issue!!

Wanda Maximoff Character have so many potential and I hate that writers don't realize it :( Likes she's interesting....and I hate it even more that majority of her fans just talks on how much they I wanna sleep with her...and if not they are just reducing her to another depressed character that don't know how to handle herself I hate that TikTok fans won't stop focusing on her dead families and won't stop making the same videos over and over again, I don't care about her being powerful i hate that they made her too powerful because it's the only thing people always talks about...and Wanda is not supposed to be scary she is not a horror character stop trying to make her scary pleaseeee stop it (Waldron had done so much damage in her character >:|)

imagine her doing actual witchcraft that is not just "moving lowing hand thingy"...ya know like she obviously still gonna use her powers but not just for shooting beams and levitating objects she can do more than that like 'i hate that magic is just unexplained science thingy' it's so boring, I want her to yell Incantation while casting spells I don't care if it "goofy or corny" that's how magic is supposed to be anyway and I also hate the "no need for Incantation thingy" and the Karate-kungfu with Glowing sticks and circle in Doctor strange...how are these people called wizard?

I hope with see some real Magic in Doctor strange 3

how did mcu manage to make magic boring...I hate this...yes the fight scenes in Doctor strange are entertaining but they remind me of Naruto Ninjas more than wizards... and again sorry for my bad English I am bad at words...and "(?)" means I m not sure if the words are right ..

[invoncible]

I’d love to see Invincible!variants meeting OG reader with powers/super strong because in their world, their reader is normal. I’d like to see their reaction when they’re expecting someone weak and then they suddenly fly off or get decked in the face!

INVINCIBLE VARIANTS & reader who can put them in their place ✧˚. ft. nogoggles!mark, mohawk!mark, viltrumite!mark, the surviving 8 cw. canon typical violence

— this is so funny ily nonnie but uhh rereading this i feel like i lost the plot, hope u enjoy nonetheless lol <3 ! — reader is with MAIN!mark & has scarlet witch type powers

when multiple versions of your boyfriend were zipping around the planet causing indescribable amounts of destruction, you were a little confused. all of these guys... were mark? what mark could've been if things went a little different?

you held back a little when fighting them because they had the face of the boy you loved so much, but after seeing them in action... they had to go.

you were flying beside your mark, the only good one apparently, when cecil barked in your ear.

"y/n, i need you." your comm buzzed to life with cecil's instructions.

"kinda busy, cecil." you muttered under your breath.

"please, i know you're done with me. i know both of you are. but don't turn your back on the people who're in danger."

"what does he want?" your mark snapped, the distaste evident on his face.

"help." you answered him with a sigh, your moral compass guilting you into seeing where you were needed. you promised mark you'd be back soon.

"just tell me where the problem is." you shot back at cecil.

NOGOGGLES!MARK

"i need you at guardians' HQ."

you narrowed your eyes in concern. "the guardians are down?"

"it's a batshit crazy version of mark, what do you think?"

you rolled your eyes and rerouted your flight path to guardians' base. within minutes you warped right in the middle of the action.

"what the fuck..." you whispered in horror. kate and her duplicates were out, shapesmith was ripped in half—immortal was the only one still going and even he was struggling.

"nice, they sent someone else!" mark stopped immortal's punch nonchalantly with one hand, grinning down at you from where he hovered in the air. he squinted then gasped, throwing immortal to the ground.

"y/n? why would they send you?" he floated down to you, approaching you like a wild animal.

"you know me?" you stalled, eyes darting around your periphery to make sure that the others were at least alive.

"do i know you?" he laughed, figuring that was a good enough answer to your question. he circled around you with an approving hum. "aww, you playing dress up? i like this color on you—"

activating your power, your tendrils of chaos magic snaked around his body, picking him up and throwing him across the room. you flew to where he landed, lifting the debris of his prior battle telekinetically and sending the slabs of concrete crashing into his body.

your feet touched down on the ground as you walked calmly towards his fallen body squirming under the projectiles. he shot up and out of the pile of rocks with a feral grin on his face.

"holy shit. you're nothing like my y/n." he set his fists and accelerated towards you.

you stopped him with the raise of your hand. his punch stuttered in time and space as he tried his hardest to push past your power and land a good one. you ducked under him, yanking at his ankle and slamming him to the ground so hard he bounced.

"yes," he chuckled lowly, wiping the blood dripping on his chin. "yes. can i take you home with me?"

"no."

"i'll fight you for it," he stood up, rolling his neck. you cringed when you heard the cacophony of cracks that followed. "wanna fight me for it?"

"s'not gonna be much of a fight." you smiled, shifting your weight before taking off again, gaining altitude and using your power as a jet engine to collide your leg with his face.

to your shock and horror, he just stood there and took it with a smile, his body skipping across the floor like a rock over a lake .

"oh..." he grinned, sliding to a stop and licking the blood off his teeth. "oh. i love you."

you blinked in confusion, tilting your head. your body warmed as you channeled your power again, a ball of energy accumulating over your palm. "i'm... going to kill you."

"i know!" he laughed, punching his fist into his palm as he got hyped up again. "that's the best part."

"you're actually enjoying this." you meant it as a question, but there was no room for debate. this mark was 100% delighted by the fact you were trying to kill him.

mark swayed on his feet, blood dribbling from his split lip. his breathing was uneven—you couldn't tell if it was from exertion or excitement—and of course that fucking grin was still there.

"you’re so fun," he groaned, licking his teeth. "i love my y/n, but i bet they could learned a thing or two from you—"

you didn’t let him finish. with a flick of your wrist, your energy surged forward, wrapping around his throat. his words choked off into a strangled gasp as you lifted him into the air.

"i'm not them," you said, voice steady even as you watched him gasp for air.

then, with a sharp twist—you snapped his neck. his body dropped to the floor, limp. you stared for a second, waiting for any signs of movement. nothing. finally, you let out a breath and turned away.

"ugh..."

you froze and spun around. his voice was wet, choked with laughter.

"you're not making it easy to stay away from you."

MOHAWK!MARK

"the penitentiary. prison's getting ransacked."

you were at the scene within the minute, zapping into existence just to see mark with a fuckass mohawk fighting off some heroes tasked with taking him in. they were unsuccessful of course, as when you arrived they were in piles of limbs and blood on the concrete.

his eyes flickered to you, widening in recognition. "y/n..?"

you raised your eyebrow. guess he knew you, or a version of you in his world. it didn't matter to you.

he lit up and tossed a severed hand to the side. "oh, hey!" he walked towards you. "what're you doing here, babe? i know you love when i go crazy but this is a biiiiit dangerous—"

you restricted his movement, pulling him towards you with your magic. you squeezed and squeezed until you heard his breath hitch. "i'm not your y/n."

"yeah, i can see that." he crooned, feigning an impressed tone. "you got a little power now? if you wanted me close, you don't have to be rough. just ask. i'm happy with any version of you." he failed to hide his little grunt, squirming in your hold.

if your grimace was any indication of your sentiment, he didn't take it to heart. he took it as motivation. he broke through your magic, pummeling through the air towards you. unfazed, you slapped him off course with a bolt of magic. he crashed into the wall with a groan.

mark stood up, the dust and rocks falling off his back. "my y/n was a sweetheart."

"i can be sweet," you mumbled more to yourself, brows furrowing as you strategized how to finish him off quickly.

"just not for me, though." mark grinned. "i see how it is. is it the hair?"

"kinda." your eyes flickered up to his hair and you couldn't stop the little smile on your face. all you could think about was your mark with that style. it worked on him, not that you'd admit it.

you picked him up and slammed him down, picked him up and slammed him down again, over and over until he was hanging limp in the air.

satisfied, you synthesized restraints from imagination and fastened them over him. you barely climbed out of the sunken crater you carved with his body when he coughed up blood, eyes fluttering.

you pressed a finger to your ear. "cecil, send someone else to bring this guy in. i've got to get back."

"you just gonna throw me around and leave?" he scoffed, words slurring together from the beating.

"someone's gonna take you in, and you're gonna tell us everything about how you got here." you sigh and barely spare him a glance over your shoulder.

"i won't talk." he sang teasingly.

"you will."

"i'll do it maybe if you come a little closer." he egged you on, a stupid little smirk on his face. "got something real special to say to you."

"shut up."

he groaned petulantly and started to push against your magical binds.

"stay." you narrowed your eyes.

his eyes darted up to yours, staring for a moment before huffing a short laugh. he leaned back against the caved-in pavement, man-spreading and getting comfy against the slope. "yes, ma'am."

VILTRUMITE!MARK

"he's off fighting spawn. the poor guy's probably already dead."

"got it."

"watch out for this one, y/n, he's..." cecil sucked in a breath. "i dunno. full viltrumite indoctrination?"

"i can handle him." you reassured him before phasing over to the variant's location.

you watched as he ripped the hero apart, flying him into the highway below for good measure. you soared down behind him, saving all the cars that were launched from the road and setting them down at a safe distance.

mark watched as the cars were gently rescued. he turned around like he had all the time in the world and looked pained upon seeing you.

"please no." he sighed softly. "they shouldn't have sent you."

"why not?" you humored him, stepping gracefully over the rubble.

"i won't stop all this. not even for you, my love."

"i'm not your y/n..." you pursed your lips, getting a faint sense of deja vu. you felt like you said this a few times already.

"don't worry, it'll be over soon. why don't you wait all this out—"

you teleport before he can finish, reappearing behind him mid-air. a surge of energy coils around your hands as you slam a concussive blast into his back. he stumbles forward, muscles tensing from the impact.

he spun around in a flash, hand gripping your throat as he shoves you back-first into the nearest building. the collision sent shockwaves rippling through the complex, glass shattering, debris crumbling to the ground.

"cute tricks." he breathed against your ear. "this is new. but don't make me fight you."

you stabbed your fingers into his pressure points, channeling your power through his nerves. his grip faltered for a fraction of a second, enough time for you to flip, plant your feet on his chest, and kick him off you.

mark spiraled back, barely catching himself mid-air. he wipes the blood from his lip from being effectively electrocuted, chest rising and falling.

"join me," he whispered, watching you in awe. "join me. we can rule the universe together."

"the fact that you think you can ask that and get a good answer proves that you don't know me at all."

"i do."

"you don't."

"we could have everything." he floats towards you. "power. control. be reasonable, won't you?"

you phase behind him again, placing one hand on his back and charging up your energy. he tries to turn around, but you're a second faster, releasing the pent-up force directly into him. mark grimaces in pain as the blast sends him spiraling into the air, flipping and tumbling before crashing into the ground below with a deafening thud.

you crashed onto the ground, unwilling to let him have another opportunity to get up. he saves you the trouble and holds a hand up in surrender.

"i won't fight you." he says simply.

you shake your head incredulously. "it's not a choice."

"i'll come find you when this is all over." he dismissed you easily, walking off your attacks.

"what—?"

he took off at supersonic speed, leaving you in the dust.

THE SURVIVORS

"they're all hovering over mark's house."

"what?! is—"

"debbie and oliver are fine. they're safe elsewhere." cecil cut you off.

you groaned and teleported over to mark's house. unfortunately, they were in your usual spot, hovering over the roof. you hung there in the air for a split second before they all pounced on you.

"we can't all have a y/n, can we?" full mask mark exclaimed, being the first to grab you and spin away from the group with you hidden safely behind him. "i'm taking them and mom back with me."

"you lost mom and y/n?" omnimark shook his head, like a father disappointed in a child. "how can you be trusted with this one?"

you narrowed your eyes. "i'm literally right here—"

"shut the fuck up." prison mark snapped at full mask mark, pushing past omnimark and jabbed a finger at the soft one of the bunch. "i'm tired of your bitching and whining. keep mom, i guess, i don't fuckin' care. but give 'em back."

"i hate you guys." sighed omnimark.

"who said you were getting them?" unmasked mark scoffed and crossed his arms.

"no one's getting me." you broke up the fight, momentarily forgetting that they were all mass murderers just cuz they had your pretty boyfriend's face.

"yeah, cuz you'd rather settle for that stupid fucking mark from this world."

"why'd you say his name like it's a slur?" you deadpanned. "aren't you all technically mark?"

"we're getting off topic." omnimark held out a hand to calm the congregation. "for what it's worth, i have my y/n safe and sound back home—"

"oh for fuck's sake."

© invoncible