#return from witch mountain

[all-action-all-picture]

Return from Witch Mountain movie novelisation by Martin Mellett. Published in the UK in 1979. The movie was the sequel to 1975's Escape to Witch Mountain. I don't think I've seen either movie.

[thatdoodlebug]

Christopher Lee in Return from Witch Mountain gets to wear the hottest outfits whilst being a diabolical mad scientist disney villain that is teamed up with gambling addict Bette Davis. they're like Team Rocket but camper and worse and i love them.

[male1971]

[dfilms]

Bette Davis starred in two Disney films - Return From Witch Mountain (1978) and The Watcher In The Woods (1981).

[seacavepuzzle]

Return from Witch Mountain (1978)

[dirtyriver]

Return From Witch Mountain, 1978

[tteokdoroki]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

no one except for you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you still cannot find it within yourself to care. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i wanna cum, nagi!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the end.

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

[fishofthewoods]

I see a lot of people clowning on the people of Pelican Town for not repairing the community center themselves or clowning on Lewis for embezzling and. like. Those criticisms aren't entirely unfair. But I think instead of coming at it from a perspective of "why can't the townspeople do this" we should be asking "why and how can the farmer do this?"

Like. Think about it. The farmer arrives in Stardew Valley on the first day of spring. By the first day they're obviously different. By day five the spirits of the forest who haven't been seen by the townsfolk in years or generations are speaking to them. By the second week they've developed a rapport with the wizard that lives outside town.

In the spring they go foraging and find more than even Linus, who's spent so many years learning the ways of the valley. Maybe he knows, when he sees them walking back home. Maybe he looks at them and understands that they're different, chosen somehow.

In the summer they fish in the lakes and the ocean for hours on end, catching fish that even Willy's only ever heard of, fish that he thought were the stuff of legend. They pull up giants from the deep and mutated monstrosities from the sewers.

In the fall, their crops grow incredibly immense; pumpkins twice as tall as a person, big enough that someone could live inside. The farmer cuts it down with an axe without even batting an eye. Does Lewis wonder, when he checks the collection bin that night and finds it full to the brim with pumpkin flesh? What does he think? Does he even leave the money? Does he have the funds to pay the farmer millions of dollars for the massive amounts of wine they sell? Or is it someone--something--else entirely?

In the winter, the farmer delves into the mines. No one in Pelican Town has been down there in decades. No one in living memory has been to the bottom. The farmer gets there within the season. They return to the surface with stories of dwarven ruins and shadow people, stories they only tell to Vincent and Jas, whose retellings will be dismissed by the adults as flights of fancy. People walking by the entrance to the mines sometimes hear the farmer in there, speaking in a language no one can understand. Something speaks back.

The farmer speaks to the the wizard. They speak to the spirit of a bear inside a centuries-old stone. They speak to the shadow people and the dwarves, ancient enemies, and they try to mend the rift. They speak to the Junimos, ancient spirits of the forest and the river and the mountain. They taste the nectar of the stardrops and speak to the valley itself. They change Pelican Town, and they change the valley. Things are waking up.

And what does Evelyn think? She's the oldest person in the valley; she was here when the farmer's grandfather was young. (How old *is* she, anyway? She never seems to age. She doesn't remember the year she was born.) Does she see the farmer and think of their grandfather? Does she try to remember if he was like this too, strange and wild and given the gifts of the forest?

And does their grandfather haunt the valley? He haunts the farm, still there even after his death; his body died somewhere else, but his spirit could never stay away for long. Does Abigail, using her ouija board on a stormy night, almost drop the planchette when she realizes it's moving on its own? Does Shane, walking to work long before anyone else leaves their house, catch glimpses of a wispy figure floating through the town? Does the farmer know their grandfather came back to the place they both love so much?

Mr. Qi takes interest in the farmer. He's different, too; in a different way, maybe, but the principles are the same. They're both exceptional, and no matter what Qi says about it being hard work and dedication, they both know the truth: the world bends around the both of them, changing to fit their needs. Most people aren't visited by fairies or witches. Most people don't have meteorites crash in their yard. Most people couldn't chop down trees all day without a break or speak to bears and mice and frogs.

The farmer is different. The rules of the world don't work for them the way they work for everyone else. The farmer goes fishing and finds the stuff of fairy tales. The farmer goes mining and fights shadow beasts and flying snakes. The farmer looks at paths the townspeople walk every day and finds buried in the dirt relics of lost civilizations.

The farmer is a violent, irrepressible miracle, chosen by the valley and destined to return to it someday. Even if they'd never received the letter, they would've come home.

They always come home eventually.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Hi I really LOVE your works literally so much😭, I just wanted to request, it may be weird, what about a witch reader who has social anxiety or just don't interacts with people, so when she would feel lonely she would bring her daily objects to life for company and turn them back into normal again, but one day one object manages to hide so reader isn't able to turn him back, and this object just feel absolute devotion to reader, bcs reader quite literally owns him

I haven’t really done a request in forever, but I absolutely adore this idea! Adore adore adore. Thank you so much, anon ❤️❤️

Yandere Head Canon: Prized Posession

Yandere Gargoyle x Fem Witch Reader

TW: Yandere content. You should know by now the content I write

You were often lonely in your cabin tucked away deep in the mountains. Your only living company was the animals that lived in the forest. Life was easier this way.

Humans terrified you due to their unpredictable and chaotic behavior. You appeared human for the most part, but you were a witch. And you never knew if they burn you at the stake if they found out, so you decided to live as far away from civilization as possible.

It did not help that you were incredibly, socially anxious, so you’d likely hiccup and reveal your identity anyways. So you decided stay in this forest in this old, abandoned gothic manor for the rest of your days.

You often wondered if the old master of this house with some kind of nobleman or maybe even a vampire. Regardless, this place was yours, and you could do with it whatever you pleased.

Yet, you were lonely. Painfully lonely. So you often used your magic to re-animate objects around your house for company.

It started off innocently. You would bring the teapot and the tea cups to life and they would be a happy little family as I talk with you about their mundane lives. You never realized how objects can hold memories… each object sharing memories with you until you ultimately returned them to their original form.

You began to grow bolder and bolder with the objects you brought to life until you finally stumbled across to gargoyle above the front door. It’s monstrous form crouched, menacingly above the manor to keep trespassers away. It’s large bat like wings spread out intimidatingly.

You decided to bring him to life. Your eyes widened when he flew down to stand before you. He was almost 7 feet tall and pure muscle. He was somewhat humanoid, but still obviously a monster. He stood on two legs his fingers and toes had sharp talons. His face elongated into the snout of a vampire bat.

His voice was deep, masculine, and gravely, like he had been a smoker for most of his life. Yet the gargoyle was very polite.

Out of all of the objects you brought to life, the gargoyle was the best company. He reminded you of those gentlemen written in romance novels with his manners and patient demeanor. It was only his monstrous appearance that startled you.

He would sit with you and stare at you with those piercing gray eyes, almost as if he was studying you like a specimen. He would hang on your every word, as if you were the most interesting creature in the world.

You weren’t used to such attention, especially not from the opposite gender. Yet he always made you feel special. Like a lady…

He would pull your chair out for you before he poured your tea, and then he would sweeten it exactly the way you preferred. You were both flattered and a bit frightened with how much knowledge he had of your habits…

The gargoyle would also dance with you under the moonlight, his hands were cold stone. Sometimes his hand would sneak around your waist and he’d pull you closer like you were his lover. A chuckle would always escape his lips when you’d gasp.

“ I want a name.” He whispered in your ear as he sat beside you as you read a book next to him in your study,

“A name?” You softly asked him. “Hmm… what about Grim?”

His face turned up into the slightest of smiles. His clawed hand took yours.

“Grim… my name is Grim.” He planted a kiss on the back of your hand. A shiver rolled up your spine from how cold he was. 

Since that day, Grim wouldn’t let you turn him back into a lifeless gargoyle. He would hide from you every time they broke.

“You’ll be lonely during the day if you don’t have somebody.” He would insist. Yet you couldn’t help the feeling that bubbled in your gut that something wasn’t right with him. Why was Grim so insistent on being by your side? Weren’t gargoyles always meant to be silent watchers over the home?

Sometimes, when you wake up from sleep, he would look through your spell books. Yet he didn’t even feel shame when you caught him. He would just give you that signature ghost of a smile as he held the book close to his chest.

“Good morning, mistress. I’m just studying these pages to see if I can find something to further deepen our bond.”

You hated confrontation, so you didn’t correct his behavior. A mistake that would haunt you.

A week later, and he became more and more animated. It began to scare you since he was no longer cold to the touch like a sculpture… no. He was warm like a body. He felt like a living creature.

You gulped when you felt a pulse. He wasn’t supposed to have one of those… this is why your instructors back in a day always warned you to never leave an object alive for too long. Objects could learn sentence and eventually become their own being… and now you had the full attention of a century old gargoyle. One that would never let you go.

He began to spin your body around in the daily waltz you always danced with him. His snout borrowed into the crook of your neck as he inhaled your scent greedily.

“I’m so happy I can finally smell your sweet scent, mistress. I was so lonely for a century in this manor. But you brought me to life. You listen to me and talk with me… I want to always be with you. Please… won’t you be mine as I am yours?”

You felt his bat like wings pull your body closer to his as he pressed his lips to the top of your head like a lover would. “I wish to be your one and only, mistress. I want to be your prize possession and you be mine. So won’t you stay with me?”

You sighed and wrapped your arms around him. It was not as if you had a choice. You had a responsibility now, and it was to keep this creature content. Even if you had to be his prized possession.

[arc-misadventures]

Do We Have A Deal?

: I, Nora Valkyrie the Fey Witch of the Honey Mountains, I will give you the protective amulets you desire to defeat the, Death Drake.

Jaune: Thank you! This will help save thousands of lives, thank you!

Nora: However, there is a price that needs to be paid first.

Ren: I knew it... Fay's never do anything out of the goodness of their heart.

Jaune: Ren, this is a business transaction; She's giving us something we want, and we'll give her something she wants. So of course she's going to ask for something in return.

Ren: Damn you, and your merchant business smarts...

Jaune: Blame my sister if anyone. She's a goblin merchant, you think I didn't pick up a thing, or two from her?

Nora: A goblin? But, you're a human, and, yet your sister is a goblin?

Jaune: Half sister. Half human, half goblin.

Nora: Oh... Is your father a bard?

Jaune: No, he's a paladin.

Nora: A paladin?!

Jaune: Yeah, he's a devote of the Summer Maiden, the goddess of fertility. Just like me.

Nora: The Summer Maiden~?

Jaune: So, what's the price we must pay?

Nora: Hmmm...? The price is simple... Sire me an heir, and you may have your amulets.

Ren: What?!

Jaune: Hmmm... Okay.

Ren: Jaune you can't be serious?!

Jaune: What?

Ren: She wants you to knock someone up, and steal their child for their own, you can't possibly agree to those terms?!

Jaune: Ren... Ren, Ren, Ren, Ren... My dear friend... My brother from another mother... My dear... sexually repressed friend... She said, 'Sire me an heir.' She doesn't want me to knock up some random woman, and have them take their child, and give it to her. Nonono... That's not what she wants at all.

Ren: It's not?

Jaune: She wants me to knock her up.

Ren: What?! That's not true... I-Is it?!

Nora: Well... (Snap~!)

Nora: You tell me~?

Ren: What...?!

Jaune: Ren... look at me...

Ren: Y-Y-Yes...?

Jaune: Smash~!

Ren: NOOOOO!

///

As a reminder, only certain aspects of these stories are connected, not the over all love interests themselves.

[misctf]

The Problem with Sexy Costumes

There were a lot of things Tim loved about Halloween. But nothing came close to all the half-naked sorority sisters at their frat’s Halloween party. Each year, they’d throw the biggest Halloween party on campus, inviting several of the hottest sororities over. And each year, their frat house would be filled with sexy nurses, witches, teachers- you name it. Tim would go as a football player. Perhaps somewhat unoriginal, given that he just wore his uniform, but he got the attention he needed. The girls would be practically hanging off his muscular arms and running their hands along his abs. Yeah, for Tim, this was the life. And as the party continued, the young jock smirked when he saw a sexy witch standing all by herself. He walked over, a confident smirk plastered on his face.

“Sup?” He casually put an arm around her.

“Get lost.”

Not the response he was expecting. Someone must’ve really pissed her off. But Tim wasn’t all that worried. He just needed to charm this witch.

“Don’t be like that.” He grinned, “You wanna hear a joke?” She raised an eyebrow, “You lookin’ for a broomstick, cause I have something you can ride.” He grinned, clearly impressed with himself.

“You’re all the same.” She mused, “I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party.” She looked down at herself, “I look ridiculous.”

Tim frowned, “I don’t think you do.” He reassured, “You’re, like, the sexiest witch here.”

“Exactly.” She continued, “Sexy.” She spat, “It’s so demeaning. Having all these guys stare at you.”

“I don’t think so at all.” He smirked, “We can’t help it. I mean look at you! Seriously, take it as a compliment.”

“Really? You’re...” She was pissed, but she could tell by the jock’s dopey grin that he didn’t understand. A small smile formed on her lips and she placed a hand on his mountainous bicep, “I guess I might just have to put a spell on you.” She whispered in his ear.

“Oh baby, I won’t stop you.” He immediately perked up, a devilish grin forming on his face.

He didn’t quite know what caused this sudden change, but he wasn’t complaining. Tim figured it was his charm that tamed this witch. He leaned in for a kiss, which she returned. And before he knew it, they were going upstairs to his room.

“So you’re gonna put a spell on me?” He asked, pulling off his shirt to reveal his muscular torso.

“Oh you have no idea.” She replied.

Tim didn’t think she was being literal. But apparently she wasn’t just a sexy witch only on Halloween. When she snapped her fingers, the young jock felt his body temperature rising.

“Is it getting hot in here or...”

“Just you.” She smirked.

Tim raised an eyebrow and grunted as he felt a sudden pressure on his muscles. He watched in terror as his muscles started to atrophy before his eyes. His meaty pecs slimming down, as the muscle in them evaporated in mere moments. The steam that was once his muscles dissipating into the air. He turned and begged for mercy as his arms followed- quickly losing their girth, but remaining toned nonetheless. He took a step to try and escape, but felt a shooting pain in his legs. He looked down to see his thick thighs and plump ass evaporate away. He stared at her, pleading again for mercy, only to hear his voice crack and raise a few octaves. He let out a grunt, and with a sickening series of cracks, his body seemed to cave into itself, becoming shorter, slimmer, and all the more delicate. Even his chest and abdominal hairs vanished, leaving him smooth and hairless. Tears stained his eyes when he saw his reflection. His masculinity stolen from him. And when he looked back at the witch- realizing he was now at eye-level with her- she simply cupped his face and ran a hand through his messy hair. He felt a series of pops as his jawline reshaped into something more feminine. Even his hair restyled into a cute quiff.

“Oh now isn’t this perfect.” She mused.

Tim whimpered as his football gear shifted into something more appropriate. His shoulder pads becoming bedazzled with fake jewels, while his jock strap reformed into a tight speedo. She snapped her fingers again, and he watched as his new costume materialized on his slim form.

“Wh-why.” He sounded so weak- so helpless.

But when he turned, she was gone. Tim knew he needed to find her. To have her undo this. And so he left his room and returned to the party. He wished he hadn’t. As he made his appearance, he could feel all eyes turn to him. Staring at his sexy football player costume. Undressing him even further with their eyes.

“Bros?” He whimpered.

He let out a yelp when he felt one of his former frat bros squeeze his ass. Another approached him and gently teased his exposed nipples. Tim let out an unwilling moan, as more of his former frat bros approached him, fondling his ass and lean form.

“Please... wait...” He moaned, his mind fogging over from the bliss.

It wouldn’t be much longer until Tim found himself out of his sexy football costume. His former bros seeing him as nothing more than a sentient toy for their pleasure. And as his eyes rolled back into his head, his focus became pleasing his former bros. And with each thrust into his mouth and ass, Timmy could hear a voice. It was mocking. Lecturing him even.

“Take it as a compliment, Timmy.” It repeated, over and over again, “They can’t help it.”

[pcr-alice]

DPxDC - Missing Persons

also on AO3

It started so quietly no one really noticed.

People were disappearing. A veteran from the mountains, a firefighter from the city, a surfer from the coast, and on and on. All gone without a trace. The local authorities investigated, of course, but they never found any leads. After some time, the people were simply written off as missing, and their communities moved on. They remained forgotten until the Justice League got involved. Their systems flagged the uptick in disappearances, and once a Bat took a look, they were immediately suspicious. It took another Bat before the link was finally found. And it took Red Hood disappearing to confirm it. The missing people all had previous close calls with death. And so the League followed protocol – they announced an investigation.

The disappearances stopped.

It was a relief at first. There were far too many people who fit the profile, and none of their analysis could discern a usable pattern from the previous disappearances. But as time stretched on, they got nervous. Surely whatever this was wouldn’t just stop once noticed? What was going to happen next, and when? Justice League Dark got involved. Only once John Constantine started poking around did they find a lead, and even then only thanks to dumb luck.

When Constantine was finally dragged to the town where one of the early disappearances occurred, he zeroed in on an old woman living in a care home. As it turned out, she was mildly magically sensitive. Apparently her grandmother was a witch or something of that sort. But crucially, she had suffered a nearly fatal heart attack almost a decade ago. And she was all too happy to talk about the ‘nice young man’ from her dream who offered to take her away.

She granted Constantine permission to dive into her memory to learn more. Whatever he learned did not make him happy. He said he’d be back after a quick trip to Hell and disappeared, much to Batman’s irritation. But true to his word, surprising some, he returned with slightly singed clothes and a book.

So here he was, chalking sigils onto the floor. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern watched him work in silence, likely trying to wrap their minds around the fact that there was a so-called Ghost King who they were about to request an audience with. Constantine finished up his work and stood at what they all assumed was the front of the circle he had just drawn.

“I do all the talking, yeah? These ones can be tricky.”

Without waiting for a response, he waved his hand, magic glowing at his palm. The circle responded in kind, pulsing white then fading into a harsh, vibrant green. A large black, green, and red elaborately-decorated sarcophagus rose inside the circle, appearing to phase straight through the floor.

“Dramatic fuckers, eh?” Constantine muttered.

A thick fog billowed out alongside it, quickly surging out past the boundary of the circle. It spread upward, threatening to fill the entire room. Constantine cursed to himself and waved an arm, clearing out the fog around them even as it thickened throughout the rest of the room, obscuring the view of the ceiling and walls save for the door directly behind them.

A deep voice echoed through the room with no discernible source. Everyone tensed.

“Who would dare wake the sleeping tyrant?”

A pair of bright green slits appeared from the depths of the fog and widened into eyes.

“Eugh, it’s you.”

The voice lost its echo. It sounded annoyed but entirely human and...young? That didn’t stop Constantine from clenching a hand into a fist, charging magic and preparing for an attack. The eyes moved closer, revealing a pale face and snow-white hair that floated in an unfelt breeze.

“Peace, Hellblazer.”

A lanky figure stepped forward onto the sarcophagus from where they were floating. They wore all black save for their white gloves, white boots, and previously visible head. With an audible thunk they plopped down on the foot of the sarcophagus, one leg bent upward to rest their chin on and wrap their arms around.

“I mean you no harm.”

There was a pause as the others waited to see how Constantine would respond.

“We met?”

“No, but I know of you. And I must admit, I’m disappointed to see you working with the likes of them.”

They gestured to the others in the room.

“Yeah, well,” Constantine relaxed his fist but lost none of his tension, “Don’t meet your heroes.”

The stranger scoffed.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I just enjoy seeing demons annoyed.”

There was another tense pause as the stranger lazily looked over all those present. Constantine broke the silence again.

“Who might you be, then?”

The stranger slowly dragged their gaze away from Wonder Woman and back to the magician. After a pause they spoke.

“You may call me Ambassador.”

“Ambassador to ghosts?”

“If you’d like to think of it that way.”

Constantine straightened his posture.

“We would like to formally request an audience with His Majesty The King to discuss what we suspect is ghost activity in our world.”

The ambassador stared back in silence with squinted eyes before sighing and thumping their forehead to their knee.

“Where to even begin…” they whispered to themselves.

“Okay, let’s start with this.” They slapped the side of the sarcophagus and looked up. “What part of ‘sleeping tyrant’ wasn’t clear?”

“I was under the impression His Majesty was recently crowned and well-respected?”

The ambassador pinched the bridge of their nose and groaned.

“Ancients...”

They hopped to the ground without warning, causing everyone to flinch into defensive stances. If the ambassador noticed, they gave no indication.

“The king is a tyrant, he is trapped in forever sleep again, and I’d like to keep it that way this time.”

Constantine opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted before he got a chance.

“Speaking of which, how’d you even summon him?”

“Summon?” Constantine choked out, clearly surprised.

The ambassador walked toward Constantine, making everyone save for him slide backwards a step. They looked down at the chalk marks on the floor.

“Ancients, this is archaic. Where’d you find it?”

After a few seconds of silence, the ambassador looked up at Constantine.

“Well?”

“Ah...Merlin.”

The ambassador raised an eyebrow.

“What? It’s bloody true!”

The ambassador huffed out a laugh and walked back to lean against the sarcophagus and cross their arms.

“Can’t fault his demonology, but this circle is Bad. I suggest you lose it.”

Constantine opened his mouth to speak, but was once again interrupted, this time from an unfamiliar voice echoing through the room.

“Lord Phantom.”

Everyone flinched as a set of black armor coated in purple flames stepped into view from the fog.

“’Sup Frighty?”

“The dark one is marked.”

The ambassador flicked their eyes to Batman and stared for several tense seconds.

“So he is. Just like the other one, but actually concealed. Must be barely contaminated.”

The ambassador squinted and tilted their head.

“Sure enough. It’s weak, but there’s a family bond there.”

Batman clenched his fist.

“Where is Red Hood?”

The ambassador straightened their head, unflinching and unblinking.

“Safe. And being cared for.”

Before Batman could respond, yet another voice echoed from the fog.

“These are the ones?”

The ambassador turned their back to Batman and groaned.

“Is anyone not coming?”

A giant, four-armed, blue-skinned, armor-clad woman stepped out of the fog with two sets of crossed arms. She had the smallest smirk on her face.

“Apologies. I wished to see those who would obstruct our evacuation.”

Superman and Green Lantern perked up and shared a short look of confusion. The woman turned her head to Wonder Woman, her smirk replaced with a grimace.

“I am disappointed to see one of my kin among them.”

“I thought she might be, but I wasn’t sure.”

Wonder Woman stepped forward.

“My Lady, I –”

“You were not asked to speak, Child.” The woman snapped.

Her voice shook the floor underneath them. Wonder Woman flinched and stared up at her with wide eyes. The heroes tensed for a fight. But to their shock, Wonder Woman slowly raised her arm to press a fist over her heart and bowed her head in deference.

“I will make my displeasure known,” the woman growled, voice still angry but no longer violently.

“Take Dora with you.”

“Do you think me unable to fend for myself, Little One?” Her mouth curved up into a fond smirk again.

“I know better than to doubt you,” they briefly smirked back, “but given my limited experience, I don’t hold them in high regard.”

After a pause they tacked on a “no offense”.

“None taken.”

The woman stepped backwards and faded into the fog. Superman took a step forward, eyeing the armor cautiously.

“Ambassador, my apologies for our unpleasant first meeting.”

He waited until the ambassador gave him a slight nod.

“May I inquire what your companion meant by ‘evacuation’?”

“Exactly what she said. Our kind are being hunted, and we are trying to save them.”

“In that case I must apologize again. We were not aware of this unfortunate situation. Had we been provided an explanation, we would –”

“Typical,” the ambassador scoffed, “your primary patron government is committing a genocide, and yet we’re at fault for not properly informing you.”

Superman was smart enough to bite back his standard “we’re independent” retort. Green Lantern stepped forward instead.

“If I may, Ambassador, my name is Hal Jordan. I am a member of the Green Lantern Corps. We are a wholly independent organization dedicated to peacekeeping across the galaxy.”

The ambassador looked him up and down slowly before turning their head away dismissively.

“I don’t talk to cops.”

The heroes were stunned to silence. The ambassador turned to the floating armor.

“Prepare the Keep. I’ll ward against this circle once the sarcophagus is back in its place.”

“My Lord.”

The armor bowed its head then faded into the fog. Batman stepped forward.

“We have no involvement in the violence against you or your kind.”

The ambassador turned to stare at Batman for several seconds, squinted eyes glowing brightly.

“You’re an excellent liar, Batman.” The fog crept forward and wrapped around their legs. “Unfortunately, I know you’re full of shit.”

“What points you to that conclusion?” Batman kept his voice neutral and steady.

The fog had risen to the ambassador’s chest. They scoffed.

“There are photos of you with Amanda Waller.”

Batman’s fist clenched harder.

The ambassador turned to look at Constantine as the fog enveloped them, leaving two glowing green spots.

“I suggest you not push this any further, Laughing Magician. There are some things in this universe that trump even your luck.”

The glowing green eyes closed, and the fog faded away, leaving an empty summoning circle and untouched room. After several seconds of silence, Wonder Woman finally raised her head and spoke.

“I must return to Themyscira, perhaps for some time. If that was who I believe it to be...something has gone very wrong.”

Superman glanced over the others, who were all still silently processing the encounter. He turned back to Wonder Woman to give her a nod, and she quickly walked out of the room.

Constantine reached into his coat and pulled out his flask. He unscrewed the cap with a heavy sigh and downed whatever was left. He looked tired and annoyed, same as he always did. But Batman could tell he was shaken.

He looked away from Constantine and back to the empty circle again. There was a lot of concerning information to process, but one key thing did slip through. The knight had called the stranger ‘Phantom’. He had come across that name once before. One of three legible words on a burnt piece of paper in an abandoned and destroyed facility. A facility that stank of a classified government cover-up. A facility Waller had sworn up and down she knew nothing about. But he had a lead. The other two words. Amity Park. A small town that only existed if you looked at paper maps printed several years ago.

He had to act quickly.

[empress-ghoul]

Rising Waters, part three

141 x witch!reader | old gods of appalachia au cw: supernatural elements, kidnapping, threats of violence, suicidal ideation, bodily fluids

You did not trust these men and you certainly didn’t want to help them. They had chased you through the woods - through a storm - chained you to a bed, and now acted as though they were entitled to your help for the sole reason their boss sent them to die. 

You wanted to tell them to go fuck themselves but you also wanted to live. And where would you go now? Your home was gone and there was a company of very dangerous men who apparently wanted you dead. A little protection might not be a bad thing. 

And it wasn’t exactly a choice to be made.

Your wounds, the cuts on your legs and feet, had been tended to in a way that was not kind. It was cold and efficient. Something, that thing in your chest and head, told you that whoever wrapped them learned how to do so in the military. 

These were not good men, and they seemed ready to prove that to you. 

“How exactly do you think I can help?” 

You needed to gauge just how much they had been stalking you and just how perceptive they were.

One of them, Gaz, left and returned with one of your witch bottles. The flood must have uprooted where you had buried them and Price recognized its significance. Clever dog

Gaz set the jar on the nightstand, the nails clinking softly inside. 

“Okay,” you agreed. If they wanted your help, then you were getting your protection. “You’re gonna have to get me jars and nails then. And unchain me. Can’t exactly use my hands when they’re chained to the bed.”

When you were unchained, there was no more concern from any of them about if you might run. Your discomfort was obvious and anxiousness even more obvious. It didn’t help that you were eyed like a white-tailed doe that was being watched with the eyes of four apex predators. 

Besides, you were struggling to walk on your wounded legs and trying to run would be more humiliating than anything.

You did not like the fact that in the time between being taken and waking up, you had been washed. Even if it was just the mud and earth rinsed off, you knew they–or at least one of them–had seen you naked. This was because you realized, as you fell into a chair at the kitchen table, you were put in nightdress. 

It was odd, you thought as you gazed around the house. This was not the typical, cookie cutter company house, and it certainly did not belong to the men. It was a true home, one that was not all dissimilar to your former one.

You watched them move around. Based on the dishes in the sink and laundry strewn about, they had been here for some time, but it was still foreign land to them. Just as these mountains were. The more threatening glances thrown your way, still warning you not to move, the less you wanted to know about what happened to the former inhabitants of the cabin.

Supplies were finally produced and unceremoniously dropped on the table, along with some bread and dried meat. You ate first, much to the disdain of the four men staring at you.

Not much good is done on an empty stomach is something your mama would’ve said. Though you doubted any of them would care if you mentioned that little proverb.

You finally wiped your hands on the nightgown, one that you came to notice probably belonged to a woman old enough to be your granny, and you started working.

Four mason jars with three irons nails in each, the lids wrapped in twine and sealed with black wax. 

“I need to bury ‘em,” you said finally.

You were given a spade and a bodyguard in the shape of a wolfish Scotsman, then shoved outside. The way he watched you navigate the plot of land the cabin was on was why he seemed so dog-like. His blue eyes burned into the back of your skull as you found the first corner and began digging. 

He was silent, once again reminding you of a hollow man. You knew he wasn’t, but golly could he pass as one. 

The shaking in your hands finally eased away when you finished burying the second jar. You were sweating from the humidity the storm left behind and your hands were covered in dirt and mud that had embedded itself beneath your nails. 

The soft, damp earth made for easier work, but you were still winded by the time you finished the third jar. When you finally got to starting on digging a hole for the fourth one, Soap broke the hour-long stretch of silence. 

“Gonna take a piss,” he stated, then walked into the woods. 

AKA do not fucking go anywhere. You watched him go behind a tree before continuing to dig. 

You set the jar of nails in the hole you dug, using your hands to pull the dirt back over to cover it. Then you stared at the hemlock plant that sat just behind the property line. 

Soap was walking back over to you. The hemlock was practically screaming at you. 

Take me. Use me. Crush me up and put me in their food. They’ll never know—

You grabbed a fistful of the flower and stuffed it into your pocket. 

Grind me up. Put me in their food—

They’ll never know. Those words rang in your head as you grabbed four more stems and shoved them in alongside the rest. Disposing of the bodies might be a pain, but you’d have a place to call home again.

They’ll never—

A hand grabbed the back of your neck, fingers digging into your skin as Soap yanked you back and dug into your pocket with his free hand. His eyes, angry and wild, were fixed on the side of your face where your cheeks were burning. From shame or fear, you weren’t entirely certain. Probably both. 

But the feeling of his eyes, his hate-filled, animal eyes, made you wish you could just sink into the earth if it meant you’d never be looked upon by him again. 

He emptied the hemlock from your pocket and yanked you back further so your head was practically against his shoulder. The flower was almost glowing in the sunlight as he held it out for you both to see. You were staring at the scar on his temple that looked like mangled roots. 

“What is it?” he demanded. 

Poison. “Edible flowers.” Half-truth. “I couldn’t figure out if y’all were gonna feed me.”

Believe me, you thought. Please, please, please, believe me. 

“Eat one then,” Soap replied. You wanted to be sick. “You must be pretty hungry if you want to eat fuckin’ flowers. Eat one.”

His voice was so mocking and cruel, and you couldn’t tell if he’d force you to eat one if you didn’t comply. 

You thought about eating it. It wouldn’t be the most pleasant death but at least you could go down spiteful, refusing to help these dogs and letting them fend for themselves on angry land. Though, It might be slightly more merciful with him around. 

Staring at the flower clutched in this creature’s hand, you truly thought about it. Nothing would hurt you anymore. But what would they do to your body if you were gone? You had a sneaking suspicion that it would be just a matter of time before they did what all men did. The thought of your dead body being desecrated began putting out the thought of a peaceful death. 

Then you thought about the wards. 

“I’m not hungry right now.” You had to force yourself to speak, your words nearly strangling you. “Maybe later.”

It was obvious Soap wanted to continue his interrogation but he instead opted to drag you inside by the scruff. That was fine. You could still feel the tremors running through his body, even if he was trying to force them down. He was good at hiding pain. 

Price took one look at the flower in Soap’s hand and knew immediately. He grabbed you by the throat at the exact moment black bile began spewing from Soap’s mouth. 

Ghost was suddenly at his side, despite having been across the room mere moments ago. 

“Easy, J— Soap,” he corrected, patting the man on the back. 

As if that would help. 

Price looked at you with shadows over his eyes. “What did you do?"

Maybe you would shrug and pretend like you had no idea. Maybe smile and curse his bloodline. Or maybe pull a page out of your mama’s book and turn heel and run. 

Maybe if you were brave, you’d do any of those things. But you were not brave, so you just kept looking between him and Soap. 

He was on his knees now. Ghost was right next to him and Gaz had appeared with a glass of water. 

It turned to chaos when Price prepared to slap an answer out of you and the world exploded in his ears. You could see the blood trickling out of them as Ghost left Soap to prevent Price from falling over. 

Standing in the center was you. Soap had finally stopped spitting up what now looked like pure rot, while Price slowly recovered. But you remained, calm, rooted in place as you watched. It wasn’t like you there was much you could do. 

All four men stared at you as you awkwardly sat on the couch, your spine ramrod straight. Price towered over you. His hands twitched but, to his credit, he held back. 

It was odd. He was odd. You liked to pride yourself on being able to look at a person and know their motives and feelings, but with him…everything was so clouded. Murky. It was the river that carried you right to him— dirty and uncaring. 

You still saw it, though. Finally, you saw what you had been…looking for? Maybe expecting? In any case, you saw it not just Price, but in all of them. A slick coldness that crawled down your spine and that something that flickered just behind their eyes. Not quite human, but not quite animal.

“First you plot to poison us,” he began. “Then you do whatever the fuck that was. You got no idea how bad I want to put a bullet in that pretty face.”

Shame, selfishness, ugliness burned deep inside your chest. You didn’t like hurting people (and you weren’t certain you could consider them people) but it didn’t stop that nastiness from building up. Besides, they kidnapped you first. They were the ones who came to kill you. 

You kept telling yourself that but it didn’t remove the taste of self-hatred in the back of your throat. It did, however, build up the terror you’d felt since Soap had dragged you inside. 

“The wards,” you said. “If you want ‘em to work, I have to be alive. Unharmed.”

The words left your lips and you immediately noted how easily those terms could be stretched. 

You suddenly realized that you might have made a mistake by helping them—that you should have said no and taken your chances with whatever fate they dealt you—but you were desperate to survive, and those odds increased exponentially with compliance. 

Besides, what if they let you live but kicked you out? Where would you go then? Back to a ruined home? Make a barefoot trek to the main road and hope someone other than a worker from Shepherd & Graves found you? No, survival, in any form, was guaranteed this way. 

A smile pulled at Price’s mouth. More of a smirk really, but you were desperate for kindness. 

“Clever girl,” he replied. He leaned down, his hands on his knees to put himself at eye level. “You know how to stay alive. Like a fucking parasite.”

Oh. Really?

Anger, like hot oil splattering out of the skillet, was just beneath your soft skin surface. These men come to land that is not theirs and have the gall to call you a parasite. In another life you would have started shrieking and ripping his unkept beard out. Not this one, though. 

“You know what it takes to survive, dontcha?” you asked, your hand clutching the skirt of the nightgown in a tight fist. Would he notice the shaking in your voice? Would he care? “Dog eat dog world out there.”

Price nodded slowly, his dead eyes locked on you as his jaw twitched. “I do,” he confirmed. “And it is.”

“You wanted my help,” you reminded them. “But I can dig up the wards if that’s what you’d prefer and I’ll be on my way.”

There was a resounding “no” from all four men. 

“No,” Price repeated. 

He worked his jaw for a moment before smiling and making a sound that might have been a laugh. The others were not as amused, and you did not feel at ease with the rumbling sound Price made.

It wasn’t exactly a choice to be made on whether you could stay or not, because no matter how much any of them hated it, they needed you.

[ghoulsverse]

Chapter One [Intro]: Nice to Meet You?

[Summary] Wanda returns to Westeview and comes face to face with what she's done. 1.8k words | [Tags] Angst, Sad!Wanda

Chapter Index

Next Chapter

The silence was the worst part. After the roar of collapsing universes, the screams of the damned, and the final destruction of Wundagore, the quiet that followed was a suffocating shroud. Wanda Maximoff existed within it, stuck in the wreck of her own making. Guilt was a constant.

She’d found refuge, of a sort, in a remote cabin nestled deep within snow-dusted mountains, far from any prying eyes or lingering magical signatures that might betray her location. Days bled into nights, marked only by the meager meals she forced herself to eat and the fitful hours spent pouring over ancient texts, searching not for power, but for something else… Atonement? Understanding? Oblivion? She didn’t know anymore. All she knew was the emptiness where her children’s laughter should have been, where Vision’s presence should have grounded her.

Westview had been a desperate act. An open wound lashed out upon reality. Frowning, Wanda closed her eyes, letting herself feel every emotion. She decided it was time to face her sins. Returning to Westview.

Wanda took her time traveling back to New Jersey, most of that time spent feeling anxious. Anxious over the reactions of people, in her mind she saw an angry mob formed with torches and pitchforks like in Frankenstein. As much as she loved the classics, she wasn't Frankenstein. Frankenstein wasn't the monster, his creator was, and in this story, she was the creator. Forcing an entire town to live in her own reality, one that they didn’t want. She was the monster here.

She dealt with the stares and hushed whispers, people crossing to the other side of the street and the look of fear in their eyes as she walked past. All to walk up to her own home, or what should have been her home, covered in graffiti calling her an evil witch. She didn’t feel sadness or anger when she saw the words written on the concrete foundation, she felt understanding.

This was her punishment.

The lot was hers since no one wanted to buy it after she lifted the Hex, and what better way to atone for her actions than to rebuild her life from the ground up?

She spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the concrete foundation, sweeping off the dust and leaves, and scrubbing the paint off the side. It felt safe to do the entire project without magic. It was therapeutic in a way, like forcing herself to focus on something tangible, something that didn’t change with her emotions. The weight of each motion, of every scrub and every sweep, grounded her, like she was actively working toward some sort of repair, if not of the town, then of herself.

By the time the sun was beginning to set, she decided to head out of town to find a motel to stay in. No place in Westview would allow her to stay, so she found a small motel in Eastview that took pity on her, agreeing to let her stay if she did a bit of housekeeping for them until her house was rebuilt. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. She opened the door to her room and looked around at the dingy and under-kept conditions. This was her punishment.

Wanda spent the entire night tossing and turning, barely getting any sleep. She stopped at the grocery store to get something to put in her stomach, even though she couldn't stomach much. This was how she would start over.

With only a few vegetables and snacks in hand, she left to head to the home improvement store to get some items to begin rebuilding her home.

Then she saw you.

As if sensing her gaze, you looked up. Your eyes met hers across the street. There was no fear in your expression, no shock. Instead, a slow, warm smile spread across your face, a look of such genuine, uncomplicated affection that it struck Wanda like a physical blow.

"Wanda," you called out, your voice gentle, familiar. "You're back early today."

Wanda. Not the Scarlet Witch. Not the monster who tore through Kamar-Taj. Just… Wanda. The version of her that existed here, apparently. The version you smiled at with such open adoration, your cheeks flushing slightly.

She expected everyone in Westview to still hate her for what she did, but you didn’t. It unnerved her. There was something else, something was off about you. Something she couldn't put her finger on. She wanted to look away, to hide, but instead, she found herself frozen in place, as if she were a child caught doing something wrong. As if she were still that girl, hiding behind an illusion of family, of happiness.

“She hasn’t been the same… since you.” A passerby hissed at her, disdain clear in their voice.

“What?” Wanda felt sick.

“When you left, she stayed stuck. Still thinks she lives in the past.”

Nausea churned with a bitter, possessive longing. You were here. Still trapped. Trapped in her creation, a cage built from her subconscious desires and tainted magic. And you were looking at the very source of your imprisonment, with eyes full of burgeoning love.

The urge to rip it all down, to shatter the facade and pull you out with a deeper, more potent fear. If she broke the spell, if she showed you the jagged, broken thing she truly was, stained by the Darkhold and soaked in blood and grief… that adoration in your eyes would turn to ash. You wouldn't be so nice to the real Wanda. Nobody did.

She stood frozen on the street, suddenly feeling a desperate, terrifying need to save you and also to run for the hills.

This was her punishment.

So she ran. Wanda ducked her head down and continued on with her day, a deep weight settling in her stomach and in her heart.

The entire time she was working on rebuilding her house, her body was moving on autopilot, her mind moving a million miles a minute. Seeing you made her think, how many other people were stuck in their minds? How many people were stuck in the reality she created?

“Finally fixing it up?”

She froze, instinctively turning to where your voice came from, her eyes wide.

You looked at her sweetly, a smile reaching your eyes. “Sorry, Wanda. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“O-oh, no-no problem.”

“I was just wondering if you decided to fix up the house finally?”

Wanda stood up from her spot and awkwardly played with her hands. “Y-yeah, I guess it felt like a good thing to do.”

“By yourself?”

She just nodded.

“Well, props to you, I could never. If you decide you need a snack while you’re hard working, feel free to stop by. I’m still just two houses down.” You smile at her softly before readjusting the bag of groceries in your hand and turning to head back to your own house, completely unaware of the emotional turmoil Wanda's feeling.

Wanda watched you walk away, the cheerful swing of the grocery bag a stark contrast to the leaden weight settling deeper within her chest. Two houses down. So close. Living in a gentle memory while Wanda stood in the harsh sunlight of reality, surrounded by the literal and figurative wreckage of her actions. You saw the Wanda from the fantasy, the one who maybe deserved such simple comforts, not the woman scrubbing hateful graffiti off a foundation, trying to rebuild something from ashes she herself had created.

She sank back onto her heels, the rough concrete scraping against her jeans. The hammer felt heavy and useless in her hand. Rebuilding this house piece by painful piece felt like a tangible act of repentance, something solid she could focus on. But you… you were different. A living, breathing consequence, trapped not by physical walls but by the magic she’d desperately tried to leave behind.

The passerby’s words echoed… “She hasn’t been the same… since you.” Since Wanda left.

Since Wanda ripped away the illusion for everyone else, but somehow, you remained tethered to it. Why? Was it some quirk of the magic? Something specific to you? Or just another random cruelty dealt by forces she barely understood?

Her atonement couldn’t just be manual labor and glares, it had to include fixing what she broke within people, too. Especially you.

Later that evening, after forcing down a few bites of the meager groceries she’d bought and enduring another tense check-in at the Eastview motel, Wanda found herself drawn back. Not to the lot, shrouded in darkness, but down the quiet street, towards your house. She stayed in the shadows across the road, a phantom watching the warm light spill from your windows. She didn’t dare use her magic overtly, terrified of strengthening the illusion or causing more damage. Instead, she reached out tentatively with her senses.

There it was. Faint, almost imperceptible, but undeniably hers. Threads of chaos magic, woven into a soothing, repetitive pattern. It wasn't the suffocating blanket of the Hex, it was softer, more personal, like a favorite song playing endlessly on repeat, designed to comfort. It clung specifically to your house, to you. It seemed the Hex hadn't fully lifted here, it had just collapsed inward, keeping you in a personalized memory bubble.

A porch light flicked on, and Wanda instinctively pulled back further into the shadows as your front door opened. You stepped out, holding a small plate covered loosely with a napkin. You glanced towards Wanda's dark, empty lot, a soft, almost melancholic smile on your face, before looking up and down the quiet street. You seemed hesitant, perhaps debating whether to leave the plate on the foundation for Wanda to find tomorrow. After a moment, you sighed softly, shook your head, and went back inside, the lock clicking softly in the night.

Wanda leaned her head back against the rough bark of a tree, closing her eyes. Seeing you, seeing the lingering magic, seeing the simple, persistent kindness you held onto for a version of her that never truly existed… it solidified something within her. Fear with protective determination. Rebuilding the house was one thing. Freeing you was another.

It wouldn’t be easy. Breaking the illusion might shatter the gentle peace you currently existed in. Facing the reality of what Wanda had done, who she truly was now, might destroy the affection you held. It might break you. And it might break Wanda, facing that rejection.

But she had to try. Leaving you trapped wasn't atonement… it was cowardice.

This, too, was her punishment. And maybe, just maybe, her path to actually fixing something that mattered. She turned away from the warm glow of your house, the weight in her chest now mingled with a fragile, dangerous resolve. Tomorrow, she would continue rebuilding the house. And tomorrow, she would start figuring out how to bring you back.

Next Chapter

[stayevildarling]

May I please request Agatha x reader where reader has such bad anxiety that they often don't leave the house because of it. Reader thinks Agatha deserves someone better, but she comforts reader?

Agatha Harkness x Reader- Tangled in fear, wrapped in magic

A/N: Thank you so much for this request. I‘m a whore for mental health fics like these so. Also this is my first time writing Agatha so please be kind to me😅🫶🏼

tags/tw: established relationship, female reader, mention of anxiety, mention of depression, mention of panic attacks, mention of agoraphobia

word count: 3.5k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples , @stepintomyworld

When the days began blurring together you knew it was back. The endless nights, days filled with fear and your mind clouded with thoughts. The sadness and fear followed you like a cloud of rain, droplets running down your brain, leaving an emptiness that you couldn‘t shake or fight on your own. It had been bad before, years ago when it all began one afternoon, your chest tightening, your hands and knees shaky and the ability to breathe suddenly leaving you.

Back then it took months of therapy and medication to get over this, to work through the anxiety and depression that followed afterwards, leaving you drained and exhausted. And you had been happy since, enjoying your life and the things you adored, even meeting your perfect and beautiful girlfriend in the process, having been beside her for months, the two of you completing each other perfectly. The two of you had met when you followed your passions and despite the very obvious attraction, the brunette wrapping you around her finger perfectly and capturing your heart.

Life with Aggy was perfect, she spoiled you, reading every wish from your lips, showing you sides to yourself that you had never explored before. Making your body and soul feel cared for and nurtured at all times. Nothing was ever too much for the witch, whether it was spoiling you, taking you on dates or cracking silly jokes to make you laugh. And in return you would give her your world, trusting the older woman with your entire life, letting her guide you in every way. It all started a few weeks ago when she had taken you to lunch on a weekend, excited to try a new place with you that had been hyped for the longest time. You sat opposite each other, her hands always lingering somewhere on you, the two of you chatting and catching up from each other‘s week when it happened.

Your body froze, the entire restaurant spinning for a moment and your head telling you „you are going to pass out“. And that triggered it all, the shaking of your hands, your heart always beating out of your chest and the fear following you everywhere. You never told Agatha, knowing she was way too busy with her life and magic, knowing she had other things to worry about and not wanting to burden her with something this ridiculous. Things turned worse when fear took over your entire being, first the driving- a panic attack after another and making the whole thing impossible. Then simple things like leaving the house or going for a walk and then even moving inside your own shared home with Agatha felt impossible. The fear of going to the bathroom, taking a shower or even to leave the safety of bed, at this point your only safe space, and go to the living room or kitchen.

Fear lingered and followed you everywhere and despite remembering your tools, remembering that this had happened before and passed eventually, you couldn‘t do this again, knowing the mountain of work that was about to follow to work through this and stop the fear. Your health anxiety began coming back, scared to eat certain foods and worried about food poisoning, scared when you felt a small headache or your tummy was upset for a day. Everything scared you, breathing, talking and existing and when that realization hit you, you knew you were lost in the darkness again. It began with not eating much, too scared to even enter the kitchen, forcing yourself to eat with Agatha in the evenings or on the weekends but never feeling truly calm. Accepting Aggys offers about joined baths gladly as the thought of doing it alone scared you.

Of course your girlfriend had noticed, the change of seasons also brought her a different version of you, one that she hadn‘t met before. The rain seems to patter against the windows of your shared apartment for days on end, matching your inner turmoil. She noticed how you were suddenly more quiet, the smile never quite reaching your eyes anymore, often noticing your legs bouncing up and down during meals, the fidgeting which she had never noticed before. And of coure she noticed the tossing and turning at night, having tried countless times to soothe you back to sleep but without success. She had tried a few times to talk to you, offer her support but you couldn‘t confide in her, feeling like a burden.

Your girlfriend noticed how you didn‘t leave the house anymore. You didn‘t work, Agatha prefering to do that part and giving you the freedom you deserved. But you used to go out, to the libraries, your favorite flower shops and cafes, walks by the lake. You would do the grocery shopping mostly, making sure there is a warm meal waiting for her when she would return home. But lately there had been a lot of takeout meals, the fridge empty and when she mentioned it, you ended up ordering groceries, her finding the receipt a few days later. But she couldn‘t connect the pieces yet, not understanding the depths of your pain and fear, assuming at first that maybe you had been tired, possibly a little depressed.

Agatha didn‘t know about the darkness that eloped you, the reoccurring and daily fear, as soon as you would open your eyes and never ending through the silence of the night. It had gotten that bad that you wanted it all to stop, feeling like you aren‘t in control of your body or mind, at times feeling like you are going crazy and this never ending cycle of doom would follow you for all eternity. If it wasn‘t for the love you feel for her, you would have stopped it already, letting go off everything but even the thought of leaving her like that, left a guilt that hurt way worse than what you had been fighting in silence for weeks now. You wanted to explain so badly, wanting her to hold you but the insecurities and nasty thoughts kept you from doing so.

Today had been another slow day spent at home, you sit on the couch again, legs tucked beneath you as you half- heartedly flip through the pages of a book. It wasn‘t that you aren‘t interested in the story, you just couldn‘t focus. The soft patting of rain against the window feels way too loud, your breathing uneaven and your thoughts so loud they crash over you like waves. Every sound from the outside world, an occasional car zooming past, the faint barking of a dog or sirens, another reminder of the scary world outside that was slowly beginning to slip away from you.

Your mind travels to the only bright spot in your life, the woman filling your heart with joy rather than fear and emptiness. But even she had become a source of guilt, you had been avoiding her without ever meaning to, slowly withdrawing from her too, making excuses to stay home when she invited you out, retreating into yourself when she tried to have a conversation with you. She deserved better. Your chest tightens at the thought, Agatha with her charm and wit, her strength and confidence, her powers. What could she possibly still see in you? When the world out there was filled with way more interesting people, witches, people with their lifes together rather than being scared to go out their own front door. She was wasting her time with you, all the effort that she was giving you and not getting an ounce what she deserved in return. You had hoped lately that she would just walk away, take the last piece of will and guilt away and giving you the permission to give into the darkness.

When the front door to your apartment opens softly, your thoughts stop for a moment as you instinctively pull the blanket a little closer to your shivering form. She doesn‘t announce herself, doesn‘t make a show of her return the way she usually would. She never would when you are like this, not wanting to overwhelm you further. Instead , she moves quietly through the room, setting down her bag and slipping off her jacket before glancing at you. „Hi darling“ she greets you softly with a warm smile, trying to keep her concern hidden.

You force a small smile, barely glancing up from your book „Hey“. She pauses as she thinks back to the times you would practically jump into her arms, calling and messaging her on her way home out of excitement and missing her and despite knowing you are struggling with something, it fills her heart with sadness. She pauses, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before moving towards the kitchen. „I picked us up something for dinner“ she calls over her shoulder, her tone light and casual, like she wasn‘t trying to probe too much. „Figured we could have a quiet night in“ she offers and you sigh in relief ever so quietly, relieved she isn‘t offering to go somewhere and you having to think of another pathetic excuse. „Sounds good“ is all you manage to reply.

Agatha didn‘t push you, she never did and that almost made the whole thing worse. You knew she could tell something was wrong. But yet she gave you time and space, allowing you to retreat into yourself without demanding answers. It was both a blessing and a curse, because it filled you with relief but at the same time left you alone with your thoughts that hadn‘t been kind lately. You hear her moving around in the kitchen, the clatter of plates and cutlery. Normally, you would join her, help out and crack a few jokes, asking about her day but today you just can‘t, feeling on the verge of tears since she stepped inside your shared home.

Minutes pass in silence and you try and focus on your book again, the only sounds coming from the kitchen but you can‘t, the words bluring together, the weight of your thoughts and anxiety growing heavier by the second. Agatha returns, wiping her hands on a towel as she leans against the doorway, watching you with an unreadable expression. You glance at her briefly and take in her features, the slightly curled hair, her outfit plastered in different shades of purple and suddenly your heart swells, missing her arms around you, her soft kisses all over your body and the feeling of safety. „Hows the book?“ she asks, pulling you out of your thoughts momentarily.

„It‘s fine“ you confess, hoping she wasn‘t gonna ask about the plot as you didn‘t remember a single thing from it. She doesn‘t say anything, simply watching you in that way that makes you feel like she could see right through the walls that you had been trying to build. „Do you want to talk about anything?“ she asks, breaking the silence, her voice soft, almost like she wasn‘t sure if now was the right time to ask. Your stomach instantly twists at the thought of trying to explain the mess inside your head and so you shake your head „I‘m fine“ you say quietly, though even you couldn‘t believe the words coming from your mouth.

She doesn’t push, simply nodding before she turns on her heels, offering a quiet „Alright, I‘m here though“ and leaving back to the kitchen. When she calls out for you a few minutes later for dinner, you can feel the tension building in your chest again, your head feeling fuzzy and your legs barely taking you to the table where she is patiently waiting for you. She looks at you with so much love as she begins eating, so much patience that your heart hurts, you want to tell her so badly, feeling like you owe her some answers, to let her in and show her how terrified you are but the words won‘t come, staying locked inside, trapped behind the anxiety that grips you so tightly.

The brunette watches you carefully as you push your food around with your fork, noticing how you hadn‘t taken a bite yet, her eyes search your face and you can feel the concern radiate from her, even if she was trying to hide it for your sake. „You‘re not eating sweetheart“ she say softly, her tone non-judgmental. You force a small smile, hoping it would be enough to brush off her concern. „I‘m just not that hungry“ you explain. She doesn‘t respond right away, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before she finally speaks, her voice quieter now. „You have been like this for a while love, haven‘t you?“ she tries, tilting her head in order to lock eyes with you.

Your heart skips a beat, your stomach twisting painfully, unsure how to answer, knowing she deserved the truth. „I‘m fine“ you repeat, though your voice begins to shake, barely able to hide the tears and the knot in your throat. Agatha sighs softly, setting her fork down and leaning forward slightly. „You don‘t have to be fine with me“ she says gently, her eyes softening. „I don‘t need you to pretend with me“. And that was it, the gentlness in her voice, the concern in her beautiful eyes, enough to cause your fork to fall onto your plate and the tears spilling down your eyes as you catch your head in your hands, the sobs wrecking through you as you can‘t hide them for a second longer.

„Oh darling“ she sigh, in an instand abandoning her food and walking over to you, kneeling in front of you before pulling your frame into her arms. Her world breaks for a moment, seeing you so sad and feeling so helpless at the same time. The usual confident and witty woman knew that not even her magic could fix this but yet she feels some relief, hoping you will finally share what has been burdening you for weeks. „It‘s okay, I‘m here“ she reassures, one hand on your knee, stroking little circles and another on your back, holding you steady and making you feel safe. She lets you cry until the last sob wrecks through your body and when your tear stained, helpless face meets hers, she offers a hand to you, guiding you to the comfort of the sofa before sitting you down and taking a seat beside you.

Agatha gives you patience, sitting beside you for the longest time, through the loudest silence, holding you and passing you the occasional tissue to wipe the tears and blow your nose. „If I knew, I would have bought a life supply of tissues“ she jokes as you go through an entire packet, causing you to giggle for a moment through the tears, the sound so unfamiliar, it takes you both by surprise. „My little lamb..“ she begins, the pet name almost causing more tears to resurface. „Can you tell me what‘s been going on in that pretty little head of yours?“ she asks softly, her hand holding onto yours tightly, another reminder she is there, patient and willing and not considering to leave, not now, not ever.

Her gentleness is enough to break through your walls and slowly every single confession, every thought and all the fear leaves you as you tell her everything that had been going on. Your past struggles with this, the trigger in the restaurant weeks ago and everything since then. And every confession is more painful than the other, Agatha fighting her own tears as she understands the depth of your pain and the intensity of your fear, wishing she would have figured this out sooner as she undeniably would have stepped in, would have handled so many things differently. „My darling girl“ she whispers before her hands hold your cheeks gently „Why didn‘t you tell me?“ she asks, her voice filled with sadness and her eyes filled with tears.

„Because.. Aggy I‘m pathetic … and you deserve so“ but she doesn‘t let you finish. „No“ she snaps, her voice more firm this time, not ever wanting to hear those words leave your lips, struggling enough with the thought of your head having told you that for so long. „Don‘t say that“ she begins, a tear rolling down her cheek. There is silence for a while as the exhaustion of your honesty washes over you and your girlfriend tries collecting her thoughts, unable to believe you had been suffering so much on your own, feeling guilty for not having been there. „But Aggy it‘s true, there is so much more out there for you and you shouldn‘t have to deal with this, you deserve so much better“ you explain, the words hitting her like a billion knifes. She chuckles lowly, a painful one before she locks eyes with you „Kitten, I don‘t even deserve you“ she sighs, knowing how lucky she had been to be loved by you, with all her flaws and her entire past.

„And none of what your head is telling you is true, you are going through a tough time but that doesn‘t mean I deserve you any less or love you any less“ she admits, her hands instinctively holding yours a little tighter, wanting you to believe her statement but the honesty in her eyes already enough to make you believe. „Sweetheart“ she begins speaking again „I don‘t need you to be anything other than who you are, your struggles, they don‘t make you less to me. They are just parts of what make you you, and I happen to love all of you“ she confesses, her finger softly booping your nose and causing you to smile.

„You have never held me back kitten, if anything, you have made me want to stay even more, because don‘t you think I see how hard you fight? even when it feels impossible?“ Her voice drops a little lower, filled with honesty „I don‘t need you to be perfect, you could never be a burden to me, not in the slightest. I choose you every day, anxiety and all“ the softness in her voice makes you tear up again and this time you lean into her, practically holding on for dear life as she strokes your hair and kisses your head. „So, stop worrying about whether you are enough for me, because you, my little witch, are enough for me, alright? and I‘m not going anywhere“. You nod into her chest as you begin crying again, the walls finally tumbling down with each confession and reassuring of your girlfriend, finally feeling understood, your heart less heavy and your head feeling empty for the first time in weeks.

The two of you stay tangled in each others embrace, similar to the way your hearts are tangled in each other‘s chest, the connection between you stronger than ever before. Agatha asks questions, listening intently to your experience with this in the past, curious how you overcame it to begin with and offering her help. She offered to get you on your old medication again, offered to take you to the neccessary appointments and therapy, never forcing you, only wanting to get you the best help possible and what makes you comfortable. And you agreed, knowing there was no coming out of this on your own. And so, the two of you made a plan, Agatha knowing you hadn‘t left the house in a while and knowing this required just that. But the two of you spoke throughout the night, more confessions slipping from your lips and the usual tough woman telling you of similar struggles in her youth.

By the end of the night, the two of you are wrapped in each other‘s embrace in bed, you laying in her arms, listening to her soft breathing and her hands on your back, rubbing soothing circles and drawing patterns, knowing it would calm you. „Thank you Aggy“ you thank her eventually, feeling the exhaustion from the evening but also the comfort of her embrace. „Always, bunny“ she reassures before pressing a kiss to your cheek and pulling you a little closer. And so, for the first night in weeks, you manage to fall asleep without the racing thoughts, your heart beating out of your chest and your trembling hands. Tonight, you feel safe, knowing the truth was finally out there, knowing she wasn‘t going to leave. And Agatha wouldn‘t leave, not now and not in the future when the days would look so much brighter again and this would be a faint memory and reminder of some dark times. She was with you, forever and always.

[fae-cookie-run-madness]

Tied to Fate (Mystic Flour/Dark Cacao) backstory

The story starts like every other beast, Pure Flour (who will become Mystic Flour) was created by a passionate witch who wanted to make gods/ancients to help lead the cookie of Earthbread down a rightful path. Pure Flour was given power over ancient magic, and her goal was to help people control it through enlightenment and prayers, also being able to grant wishes to help remind cookies there are witches who care.

Pure Flour doesn’t establish a kingdom but rather a temple on the top of a cliff, a beautiful sea close by. She gains a couple of workers, one being Cloud Haetae cookie. One day Cloud Haetae finds a knocked out cookie that is hurt, telling his mistress she quickly gets the cookie inside and nurses him back to health.

When the cookie wakes up, he introduces himself as Cacao bean cookie. Pure Flour asks him what his wish is, obviously that must be the reason he climbed this mountain. However Cacao bean says he doesn’t have a wish or he has forgotten it due to his attack. He opts to stay at the temple as he tries to remember his wish, he slowly rebuilds and reinforces walls destroyed by disasters as well as stopping fights from cookies who are pushing to get their wish.

Cacao Bean cookie slowly became part of the temple much like Cloud Haetae, a familiar and kind face for Pure Flour cookie. He laughs with her, joins her for meals, all without asking for anything in return other than the roof over his head. Even when Pure Flour offers a wish he would reply with something like ‘I wish to see the sun set tonight’ something out of Pure Flour magic range, just a natural set of life.

Eventually the two grow close and one day his wish is ‘I wish to stay by your side until I crumble’, a proposal in his own words. The two are married, Blueberry Yogurt and Warming Spice helps get them their wedding rings. Life goes on, now Cacao Bean looks after his wife, sometimes acting as her bodyguard. They had a baby together and they were happy as the little baby was slowly growing up.

However all wasn’t well, followers or cookies wanting their wishes granted weren’t happy that Pure Flour’s attention was being taken by her new husband and child. However they soon got an idea, where in the past she would reject certain wishes, if they had and threaten her family, she would be forced to grant their wishes. So the mob plots, and eventually attacks, Cacao Bean is awoken by his son’s screaming and rushes to save him. However during the fight he is hurt and his weapon is knocked away, forcing him to run away with his son in his arms.

Cacao Bean cookie is forced to the cliff side, his young son in his arms. He’s trapped, a dark sea with sharp rocks over the edge, or the mob of angry cookies with weapons ready to tear them apart. Cacao Bean took the sea, and allowed himself to fall off the cliff as the angry cookies got close. Praying for a quick death by the hands of the sea.

Pure Flour cookie watches as her husband and child fell off the cliff to their death, in her despair her magic lashed out, reducing all the cookies besides Cloud Haetae to flour. The following weeks are hell, her emotions are killing plants and everything around her, as she mourns. She eventually turns to meditation as it’s the only thing to bring her a sense of control. However the loss of her soulmate slowly begins to color the world, why should she feel emotions for these selfish cookies who took everything from her? What joy is there in life now that he is gone?

Eventually she becomes the White Apathy, Mystic Flour, becoming flour is a much better fate than living.

Of course, the witches saw the destruction the beasts were causing and eventually they were locked away.

(Ancient Times)

Dark Cacao was baked and born into the world of Earthbread, his early life is unknown. All that’s known is that eventually he found Hollyberry and Golden Cheese cookies and they started adventuring together, eventually finding/being gifted the Soul Jams.

Eventually Dark Cacao finds a snow covered mountain where two dragons are fighting, eventually he binds the dragon to his sword and starts the Dark Cacao Kingdom. Something about the white, cold snow makes him feel comfort, despite the dark, dangerous sea close by. To bring him some comfort he decided to build walls around his kingdom, just to keep the monsters out.

He establishes the kingdom and has subjects, soon enough his son, Dark Choco cookie comes along. This is where his behavior differs then most other cookies. For one sometimes he would look for or ask questions to someone who isn’t there, only to later realize he is alone. It was clear to most Dark Cacao had nightmares, there were many times you would find him awake, guarding his son’s room with a sword, or just staying rocking his cradle. He also pushes his son to train with a blade, early on claiming cookies would not care if he is small, they could still use him to hurt someone else. This results in Dark Cacao being pushy for his son to be independent and learn the sword but also weirdly overprotective, never letting him out of the walls of the kingdom.

Dark Choco eventually breaks these rules, leaving and finding a sword along his way, planning to bring it back to show his father he didn’t need to stay in the kingdom. However when he brings the sword back it basically takes over and makes him attack his father, only really snapping out of it when Dark Cacao slices his eye. In the aftermath, Dark Cacao tells his son to ‘get out of my sight’ before he is taken to the healer. Dark Choco runs thinking his punishment is banishment, plus fearing the possibility of it happening again, meanwhile when Dark Cacao wakes up, he asks for his son.

As Dark Choco deals with life on the road, he is slowly corrupted by Pomegranate cookie who tells him he has a bigger purpose in life and slowly uses magic on him to make him work for Dark Enchantress Cookie. 

(Game canon differences)

During the events of Crispa in Dark Cacao Kingdom, when he spots Dark Choco on the roof, Dark Cacao’s reaction wasn’t one of anger but relief. He runs up, hugs his son, and looks over the scar over his eye, asking him why he never came back. However Dark Choco pushes away drawing his sword, ordering for the Soul Jam, Dark Cacao says he will fight if only to knock some sense into him. 

Later when Pomegranate uses magic on Dark Cacao, it’s his son that gets his attention to the point that everyone else in the room he see as a threat. Eventually they snap him out of it. However Dark Choco doesn’t stick around much to the dismay of the king.

During Beast Yeast.

When the pale ailment hits, once Dark Cacao hits beast yeast he’s overcome with headaches, painfully but thankfully not something from the pale ailment. When they get to the temple they meet Cloud Haetae cookie, who is overjoyed to have a guest coming to visit his mistress, saying that it will surely bring a smile to her face. Cloud Haetae keeps telling them about his mistress, meanwhile Dark Cacao is dealing with headaches and nosebleeds.

Eventually the soldiers begin worrying and try to get Dark Cacao to go back, however Cloud Haetae doesn’t want them to go. He tells the story about how his mistress lost everything, her husband and child one night and seeing good, nice cookies should help her. They all just keep going towards the top, eventually finding a cocoon. Cloud Haetae calls out for his Mistress, begging her to come out, that he found Soul Jam and the new master.

At those words Dark Cacao cuts the Cocoon, and Mystic Flour unleashes a spider, even though Cloud Haetae keeps trying to yell it’s a misunderstanding. 

After climbing the mountain Dark Cacao faces Mystic Flour, a veil covering her face from sight. They fight all while Mystic Flour tells him to give up the Soul Jam and give in to Apathy. This changes however when the veil is covered and Mystic Flour finally sees his face. The fight stops of her end, however Dark Cacao is fighting out of anger at the moment. She tries using old nicknames, anything to get him back but eventually he wins and breaks out of the world he created.

He goes back to his kingdom, having defeated the pale ailment, meanwhile Mystic Flour cookie plots. She knows what she saw, she knows whose soul he really is, now just a way to get those memories to the surface.

----

Backstory so far and trying to figure stuff out. let me know your thoughtd