#~bleed magick~

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

ALSO TELL US ABOUT THE SYSTEM OF MAGIC LEARNING IN SOUL-BOUND PEASE AND TANK U

WOW OKAY COMING AT ME WITH A KNIFE ARE YOU LMAO

The magic system in Soul-Bound is! Pretty big actually. The best thing I can do is try to narrow it down into smaller chunks or we'll be here all day lmao--

There are many types of magic that can be learned (and instinctual), and we have recoil, the counter-balance to that system and the use of magic in and of itself. Most places of learning for magic are huge campuses that use ley-line transportation to get around them, and are equipped to support each type of magic (the largest category being spell crafting).

They're more or less divided by (in the easiest way for me to write and to digest):

Alchemy

Spellcrafting/casting (and the subsets ⬇)

Inherited/Naturally Attuned Magics

Learned Magics

Intent-based Magics

Then there's the four types of recoil:

Recoil from unlearned magic

Recoil with understanding but a lack of skill

Recoil from magic that a user is incapable of using

Recoil that comes from too much raw magical power used

What is Alchemy?

Alchemy is, while the smallest category, not necessarily the easiest. It is technically a science based magic, and does require a lot of understanding of the world around oneself and how to use it, especially the study of magically charged components that are used when making spells and potions.

While many know of alchemy via the rearranging of existing matter into other things, and that is still a subcategory of it, it's also specifically the form of using physical components to make up, cast, or enact spells. (I'd say that the idea of Witches and cauldrons technically falls into this category).

Existing material is required for alchemical spells. Example: You can't just make fire from thin air, but you can make a potion from a dragon's lung that can allow you to cast fire when drank or used upon other equipment (flaming sword anyone?).

Usually the tactic of employing alchemical knowledge into your arsenal is for preventing the occurrence of recoil when using magic. Since the spell is confined to the potions and materials that are being used themselves, there is no risk of recoil due to not drawing from oneself to use the magic. Example: someone with a water elemental skill could use lightning potions to cast, even if they're not capable of using lightning magic. Someone who doesn't even have natural magical talent can use alchemy, and many alchemists and apothecaries are utilized by the every day citizen for things ranging from using components to warm the house in the winter to healing wounds and getting over certain sicknesses and curses.

What about Spell Crafting/Spell Casting?

Spell Crafting is a far bigger category, a little in part because it covers all magic that isn't component-based. This usually comes from some type of Affinity to magic itself, whether one is naturally gifted in using magic, or they inherited magical traits from their ancestors, or sometimes they honed their skills into being able to use certain spells, or it's an unconscious use of magic in certain situations.

These kinds of magic-use can be learned if one has an affinity for magic naturally; having a strong sixth sense, or the gift of higher sight (the ability to see spirits, fae, among other things) usually is a tell-tale sign of someone that can use magic naturally. Sometimes there is generational magic-- the child of a parent that can use shadow-magic can probably also use shadow-magic, or at least has an easier time using it than other Elements. Equally, it can be a coin toss when both parents have different magics, if their child can use either one-- sometimes they can use neither, or can only use it to a mild degree.

Magics like Necromancy (and its subsets, I'd love to dive into this one more because, well, VESPER, and also cause it's fun), Elemental magics (fire, air, ice, water, earth, plant, lightning, shadow, metal, etc etc), Shapeshifting (natural shapeshifters AND the magic are separate things), Time magics (the ability to stop, slow, reverse, and skip in time), Healing magics (wounds to self, others, and environment), Prediction/Premonition magics (seeing into the future, past, or possibilities of oneself or others), and most other magical skills you can think of would fall into this category.

You'll note that I didn't include 'Holy' magic here, and that's because it doesn't... truly exist. There are many Gods in the Soul-Bound Pantheon, and thus there isn't one true type of 'Holy' magic, though the use of Blessings from these Gods to enact spells is a thing, and also still falls into this category.

Intent-based magics also count here, and are sometimes an unconscious thing; intent-based magics are often emotion based or thought based, and can even lead to the creation of an absence of magic like the Angels in the Soul-Bound universe.

You'll think of intent-based magic as curses, blessings, and wards.

The type of intent-based magic that makes blessings and wards usually require a lot of focus to make, born from repetition. They usually take the form of physical objects like charms and tokens, statues and jewelry, where the blessing/ward is constantly thought of while the item is being made (like making a necklace for someone, and only thinking good thoughts of them or for them).

Sometimes, however, they're made purely on a whim and without much more than extreme feelings or singular powerful thoughts; this kind of magic is dangerous in its unpredictability, usually resulting in a curse. When this magic is made in a large group where the majority lacks natural affinity, it can become an antithesis to itself, and take the form of a being that needs to constantly consume natural magic to keep form: we call these things Angels. They are unnatural, a type of walking curse, and can even absorb Gods into their bottomless forms.

Angels are ultimately a form of recoil that doesn't have a singular individual to redirect to, instead rebounding on the world around them, which leads to...

Recoil.

There's four major kinds of magic recoil that one can suffer from, and that is: recoil from magic that the caster is unfamiliar with, recoil that comes from a caster that is inexperienced in using the magic they're trying to cast, recoil that comes from certain magics an individual is incapable of performing, and recoil can come from an overflow-- a loss of control-- from someone attempting to use magic.

It is always a danger when using natural magics that come from the user/self, and cannot quite be prevented, even for experienced spell casters.

Naturally, trying to cast a spell you've never used or heard of before has a high chance of recoil, a dice roll that can either end up with a successful casting, or a powerful clapback that can scar or injure the user and have dire consequences. Think a more extreme version of playing with fire. At some point you can and will lose control, and you will be burned for it in some shape or form.

Equally, even when casting a spell with an affinity one excels in, if the spell is too advanced (think levels and intensities of the same spell), it can also result in recoil. This comes from spellcasting being a lot like exercising. Lifting a heavier weight than one's stamina is used to can result in pain, or worse.

Sometimes, though, a user can have all the knowledge of a spell, but not the affinity to use it-- like a water mage attempting to use fire, or a Necromancer attempting to heal. The magic they're attempting to use is essentially the opposite of their affinity, and can give them whiplash for attempting it.

Last, and the most rare form of recoil, comes from magical overflow. Certain individuals can have a larger pool of untapped magic, and when casting, can unintentionally pour more energy into a spell than required, causing a painful burst of power. This recoil can be considered the most dangerous, as it is hard for a caster to stop the spell or the energy they're putting into it, and tire them to the point of passing out, and sometimes even afterwards until they die from exhaustion.

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"...Glad I'm not considered unattractive?" Unless there's something we don't know.

"Anyone can be hot unless I hate their personality."

That's not helpful.

[iris-qt]

What I Cannot Say

knight!theo | medieval au ⚔︎

The castle slumbers.

Rain patters softly against the high, stained-glass windows, and the candle at your desk burns low, its golden flame dancing across your ink-stained fingers. You shouldn’t still be here. The other court scribes have long since vanished, and even the guards are trading shifts beneath their breath.

But the scrolls before you whisper like old friends, records of ancient treaties, old languages curling across parchment like spells.

You don’t notice the door open.

Not until the floorboard creaks... the one you keep meaning to fix.

Your quill stills.

You look up, heart skipping.

He stands there, silent in the threshold, half-draped in shadow. Rain beads across the black leather of his shoulder guards, his hair damp, curling at the edges. A dark cloak slung across one shoulder. A blade at his hip.

Ser Theodore Nott.

He shouldn't be here. Not at this hour. Not in the library. Not with you.

“My lord,” you say softly, standing too quickly. You nearly knock over the candle.

He doesn’t blink. His gaze, sharp and unreadable, scans the room before returning to you.

“I was told you kept the original texts from the House of Gwael,” he says, voice quiet. Clipped. As if it costs him something to ask. “I need to read them.”

You swallow. “Of course.”

You bend to retrieve the scrolls, your fingers trembling. Not because you’re frightened. You’re not. It’s just—

He’s taller than you remembered. And even in the flickering candlelight, he’s beautiful in the way statues are beautiful: cold and eternal and utterly untouchable.

You hand him the scroll.

His fingers brush yours.

A mistake, probably. He’s wearing gloves, and yet the contact makes your breath catch anyway.

Theo notices. You can feel it... not in any expression (his face stays unreadable as ever), but in the slow, precise way he unrolls the scroll, eyes flickering toward you only once.

“I didn’t think knights cared for language,” you murmur, half to yourself.

He glances up. His voice is low and sure.

“I care for many things people assume I don’t.”

You don’t know how to respond to that, so you return to your seat, unsure whether to keep reading or flee to your chambers and scream into your pillow. The candle gutters. He stays.

Minutes pass. The only sounds are rain, your turning pages, and the soft scratch of his gauntlet against parchment. Then, quietly:

��Why do you work so late?”

You look up.

Theodore’s gaze is trained on the page, but his question lingers in the air, warm and unexpected.

You blink. “No one notices me here.”

At that, his eyes lift. Hold yours.

“I do.”

Your heart thuds. Loud enough that surely even a knight can hear it.

“I’ve noticed,” he says, more gently now. “You’re always the last to leave. Even in the cold. Even when your hands shake.”

You flush, throat tight.

“I like the quiet.”

He hums. “So do I.”

A long pause. A soft flicker of lightning. His hand drifts, without thinking, to the hilt of his sword, the motion absentminded, protective.

You wonder if he’s always like this, or just with you.

Theo rolls the scroll back up and sets it down but doesn’t leave. Not yet.

Instead, he says softly, “You read poetry, don’t you?”

You nod, uncertain.

“I remembered a line, once,” he says, still not looking at you. “When I was bleeding. I thought I would die. But it came back to me anyway. Something about stars. And the way some people carry light inside them.”

You stare.

He finally meets your gaze.

“I thought of you.”

And just like that, the room feels smaller. Warmer. Brighter.

Like a candle that refuses to go out.

...

The next time you find it, it’s tucked between the pages of your copy of Herbal Magicks of the Olden Kingdoms.

A shard of dragon glass. Real. Cool to the touch, with a small crest engraved at its center: not from your kingdom. Foreign. Ancient. Pinned beside it: a note. Neatly folded.

Your name is written in an impossibly tidy hand. You open it.

For the scholar who outshines the sun with her questions. This was taken from the ruins of Aelwyn, where the old queens studied spellfire and starlore. I thought of you when I saw it. —T.N.

Your breath catches.

He thinks of you. In battle. In ruins. In other kingdoms.

You clutch the note to your chest and spend a full five minutes pacing the length of the library trying not to combust.

You don’t get the chance to thank him. Not yet.

Because the court session that day is… a mess.

You’re summoned to bring the translated treaty notes, normal work, but the nobles are restless. They gossip, drunk on mead and power, casting eyes at the quiet scribe who dares sit in council.

And then Lord Durran (slimy, bored, and old) speaks up.

"Tell me, girl," he sneers, loud enough to echo. “When did scribes begin thinking themselves courtiers? Or are you simply warming Lord Nott’s lap in exchange for coin?”

The hall freezes. You do, too. Until the scrape of a chair. A deliberate step.

Theodore Nott doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. But when he moves, the entire chamber listens.

“I suggest,” he says coldly, “you keep my name off your tongue unless you’re prepared to swallow your teeth.”

Gasps ripple. Durran flushes, paling. No one challenges Ser Theodore. Not even fools.

He doesn’t look at the others. Only at you.

And then, in the shadows of the halls outside the courtroom, he walks over and places another small item in your palm.

It’s a pendant this time. Worn. Engraved with a script only three historians in the realm could read.

“I thought you might translate it,” he murmurs, quiet enough just for you.

And with that, he turns. Walks away. Cloak swirling. Sword gleaming. You remain frozen, your heart racing. It says something that you don’t even open the pendant until much later. You just stand there, cheeks burning, wondering how it’s possible for someone so silent to make this much noise inside your chest.

...

It takes you three days to crack it.

Not because you’re slow, gods no. You’re the only person in the castle who can read High Eltheric, a long-dead language that looks like poetry and spells had a lovechild.

But you hesitate.

You hold the pendant beneath your pillow, beneath your breath, fingers tracing the etched lines like they’ll whisper something before your mind dares translate it. Every time you try to begin, you think of Theo’s eyes on you. The way he placed it in your hand. Like it meant something. Like you mean something.

Finally, on the third night, rain against your windows, firelight low, you set the pendant beside your ink pot, take a steadying breath, and begin.

Word by word, the meaning unravels:

To the one whose mind is a thousand burning stars I offer what little heart I have. If you ever wish to claim it.

Your quill drops.

Your breath hitches.

You read it again. And again. And again.

It doesn’t change.

He gave you a coded love confession. In a dead language. That only you could read.

What kind of maddening, infuriating, devastatingly romantic knight—

You sit back in your chair, staring at the pendant like it might burst into flames. Because now you know. Now you see it. The pattern of his gifts. The books. The relics. The looks that lingered too long and the way he always stood between you and danger, like a silent shadow forged of steel and longing.

You bite your lip.

And you smile.

Because you realize: he thinks you haven’t noticed.

A/N: obsessed with this au | ty to @kiaxika and tagging @ladyblablabla

[revelboo]

Lol you announced you were planning one for Rung and now I am chomping at the BIT. Waiting with baited breath

He’s a good boy bot

Anything For You Pt 2

Rung x Reader

• “It’s not poisoned,” he, Rung, you remind yourself, says. That doesn’t make you feel any better about the gray bars he’d given you. Especially since they don’t look or smell appealing at all. If the giant alien robot is to be believed, you’re on a ship far from home. Beamed up by accident with no way to get you home for the time being. You’d listened to him explain that he’s not going to hurt you, where you are, and who he is while keeping a death grip on what you suspect is an alien box cutter. And he’d given you… food. Or what he claims is food.

• “And there are other people here? Humans?” You ask, breaking a corner off of one of Ratchet’s nutrient bars and crumbling it in your fingers to send crumbs everywhere on his desk. Nodding slowly, he retrieves a blanket from the stash he’d kept for the human now in Megatron’s care and offers it to you. Just like the bars and knife, your immediate response is to snatch it to you. And frown. “So you guys space magicked a bunch of people here and can’t space magic us back?” Space magic?

• “Brainstorm claims he can’t because he’s not sure what went wrong to make his device pull humans to us. And his invention was dismantled.” Actually aggressively destroyed by Rodimus, but the end result was the same. The unwanted effects of it somehow still happening. Something Brainstorm had shrugged and labeled ‘residual reality displacement.��� In the same bored tone he uses wherever he’s asked to do something he doesn’t care about. “But I’ll try to make you comfortable until we can get you home.”

• Shifting where you’re sitting on the case of your big knife, you tentatively try a bite of the bar and it’s not awful, but definitely not good. “Why?” And he frowns like your question surprises him. But really? It’s not like he owes you anything, so why go out of his way to help you? No one does anything unless they’re getting something in return. So what’s his angle? What’s he want from you?

• “Because it’s the honorable thing to do?” Bemused at your arched brows, even as inexperienced with humans as he is, it’s easy to tell you don’t believe him. Cynical, little thing. Making him want to know why. Wanting to know you. What makes you ‘tick’ as he’d heard one of the other humans say. It’s his nature to want to understand. To help. “You don’t trust me, do you?”

• “Why would I? I don’t know you,” you mutter, deciding you’ve waited long enough and you’re not bleeding out of any orifices, so the bar is probably safe. Taking a bigger bite, you point with the rest. “So what do you want from me? What’s that ride back home cost? A kidney? Blood?” He reels back slightly, like he’s not only shocked, but offended. Not that you believe it. No one’s that nice without an ulterior motive. People always want something and you doubt big, alien robots are any different.

Previous

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[astra-ravana]

Witch's Marks

Throughout history, certain bodily features, marks, and signs have been associated with witchcraft. Some were used as evidence in witch trials, while others are esoteric indicators of magickal potential. This guide explores birthmarks, scars, deformities, palmistry signs, and other physical features believed to mark someone as a witch.

The Devil’s Mark (Historical Accusations)

During European and Colonial American witch trials, interrogators searched for "witch marks"—signs that a person had made a pact with the Devil. These included:

• Birthmarks, moles, or skin discolorations – Believed to be "kissed" or marked by spirits.

• Unusual scars – Especially if they did not bleed or were insensitive to pain.

• Extra nipples or "witch's teat" – Supposedly used to nurse familiars or demons.

• Cold or unbleeding spots – Accused witches were pricked with needles; if they didn’t bleed, it was considered proof of guilt.

• Webbed fingers or extra digits – Rare genetic traits mistaken for supernatural origins.

Many of these were simply natural bodily variations but were feared in times of witch hunts and superstition.

Birthmarks & Deformities (Signs of Magical Power)

In folklore, specific birthmarks were considered signs of innate witchery or past-life connections to magick:

• Crescent Moon Birthmark – A birthmark in the shape of a moon was thought to indicate a connection to lunar magick and intuition.

• Pentagram or Star-shaped Marks – Rare but sometimes reported, believed to signify natural protection and spiritual insight.

• Heart-shaped Birthmarks – Associated with love magick and emotional sensitivity.

• Red or Wine-Colored Marks (Port-Wine Stains) – In some cultures, these were seen as marks of a fire-witch or one chosen by spirits.

• Marks on the Hands or Feet – A birthmark on the palm was believed to give heightened intuition.

• Eye Discoloration (Heterochromia or Unusual Eyes) – Seen as a sign of second sight or fae lineage.

Palmistry Indicators of a Witch

Palmistry holds many signs that indicate a natural witch, healer, or mystic. The most significant ones include:

• The Mystic Cross or Secret Cross(X Between Heart & Head Lines) – A powerful mark of psychic ability and magickal talent.

• Psychic Crosses - Potent psychic ability, blessed by the planets at birth.

• The Healer’s Mark (Multiple Vertical Lines on the Mercury Mount) – Found on those gifted in energy work, spellcraft, and healing.

• The Conjure Mark - A star mark under the ring finger that indicates special talents in magick and spiritual favor.

• The Mystic M - 'M' shaped lines that indicate heightened intuition and mystical abilities.

• The Ring of Solomon (A Semi-circle Under the Index Finger) – Indicates a deep understanding of occult wisdom and esoteric arts.

• The Deep Cross - An inverted cross that symbolizes cleverness, trickiness, luck, and a connection to the crossroads.

• The Psychic Triangle - Indicator of strong psychic abilities.

• The Fate Line Merging with the Life Line – Shows a destiny closely tied to magick and spirituality.

• Astral Travel Lines - Indicator of ability to transcend time and space.

• The Debtor's Mark - Indicates a generational curse, appears as an 'X' on the thumb.

• A Star on the Mount of Moon (Near the Base of the Palm) – Indicates prophetic dreams, intuition, and a connection to spirits.

• Curved or Clawed Index Finger – Called the "witch’s finger", symbolizing strong will and magickal power.

• Unusual Fingernail Shapes – Some traditions claim long, almond-shaped, or black-ridged nails indicate magickal energy.

Facial & Eye Features of a Witch

Certain facial traits were thought to reveal innate magickal abilities:

• Different Colored Eyes (Heterochromia) – Considered a sign of foresight or fae ancestry.

• Deep-Set or Piercing Eyes – Often linked to hypnotic power and psychic perception.

• Naturally Arched or "Fox-Like" Eyebrows – Some folklore says this reveals a cunning or spellcasting nature.

• A Widow’s Peak Hairline – In some cultures, a widow’s peak was seen as a sign of powerful intuition.

Other Supernatural Bodily Features

• Toes of Equal Length (Greek Foot) – Thought to be a mark of spiritual leaders, witches, or powerful souls.

• Long or Slender Fingers – Associated with energy manipulation and spellcasting.

• Naturally Cold Hands – In some traditions, this was seen as a sign of spirit sensitivity.

• Naturally White or Silver Hair (Young Age) – Seen as a sign of wisdom beyond one's years and magical lineage.

• Unusual Hair Growth Patterns – Some cultures believed a single streak of white hair indicated past-life magic use.

• Unusually Pale or Unnaturally Dark Skin (Relative to Ancestry) – In folklore, extreme contrast in skin tone was thought to mark those "touched" by magic.

Scars & Witch Marks from Rituals

Some witches intentionally mark themselves with scars, tattoos, or ritual wounds as signs of initiation, devotion, or power. These include:

• Self-Carved Sigils or Runes – Done in blood magic or personal empowerment rituals.

• Burn Marks (Fire Walkers or Flame-Proof Witches) – Some traditions claim that a witch initiated into fire magic might have a burn-resistant patch of skin.

• Scars from Spiritual Battles or Shamanic Trials – Found in spirit workers and energy healers, especially in Indigenous traditions.

While historical witch marks were often used to persecute and harm innocent people, many esoteric traditions still recognize certain physical signs as indicators of magical gifts. Whether birthmarks, palmistry signs, or deliberate markings, these features connect people to the ancient mystical heritage of witchcraft.

Do you have any of these witch marks? Many believe that discovering such features can be a sign of magical potential, past-life witchcraft, or a deep connection to the unseen world.

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

you. grabs you. popular/staple dishes and/or cuisines in Soul-Bound. how do these vary by region? what about culture? what about class/status -- is there a difference? what is considered a delicacy or luxury food item?

DISHES ASDASDSADASDASAAA

Okay! So,,, to start: the current timeline of Soul-Bound is a lot like that of our modern-times, but with magical elements added in. That means you see a lot of the same foods and meals that we do in our own world and countries (ex: Vesper is technically Welsh, on his mother's side, so he enjoys those kinds of dishes).

The cultural system is similar, with minor differences in how society treats itself more than the foods they eat. I'd say that this concept is common with most of the works Kara and I make, since we'd prefer writing societies where social concepts like queerness doesn't really get mistreatment and confusion, it's just a staple of life and thus does not matter to the environment as a whole. Being a shapeshifter and being trans is like. Basic. There's no hate against whether you like the same gender or something else, gender is a loose concept anyways, you get the idea.

Tangent aside, random foods from pizza, ramen, beef wellington, pasta, to salsa and chips, brownies and cake-- all these things still exist and are still made regularly, but! The biodiversity is what has changed. The ingredients are more diverse. There are plants and animals that may have gone extinct or don't exist in reality, that still exist in Soul-Bound.

So while the recipes and foods conceptually are very similar to the foods here per region, what goes into them may change more so than their general makeup. For instance, a meatloaf, but one of the meats is ground griffon meat compared to simply beef may occur due to a population of said creatures nearby.

(I only recently got into Dungeon Meshi, but I'd say that what ingredients are used in that series are very comparable to Soul-Bound. Things like regular iceberg lettuce exist and can be used towards food, but you could also say, use mandrakes to make up your salad too. As Kara puts it, "You make a familiar recipe with unfamiliar ingredients.")

As for what cuisines are considered delicacies versus normal, that absolutely matters on your species. I'd say humans are the most adventurous in terms of eating odd foods, but demons will eat anything yet absolutely adore things that have an insane level of magical potential in their makeup (souls, being the most obvious thing here, but eating the spells from a grimoire is equally something appetizing for them).

Cannibalism is also, a thing too in terms of like, not everyone has the response humans do to eating their own kind. Some are like snakes and don't think twice about eating other snakes, a demon sure doesn't care about eating other demons. Mers will eat fish despite being half fish. It's also abhorrent to do this with some species and totally fine to others, even varying on the individual level.

Eating another intelligent species sometimes doesn't matter; though it can become dangerous depending on the properties. Something can still be toxic to one species but not to another, and sometimes there are bonuses to eating certain cuisines. A human eating a mermaid's flesh could achieve immortality, but also said human could turn into a grotesque undying monster that lives forever in eternal agony! :) You never know!

Class and status affecting foods also depends entirely on the species too. Centaurs, being larger creatures, may have trouble traversing cities, and thus 'richer' centaurs may value such casual things as human street foods as something that could belong in a high end restaurant. Mermaids may like sushi and land-based meats because how the hell do you get beef in the ocean??? Fae may only enjoy fruits grown from trees that have only been watered using the most purified of water, and the most natural of soil (or they may only like soil that has been using compost from demon remains. crazy stuff).

[captain-hawks]

DELICATE.

tetsurou kuroo x f!reader

The Mage of Nekoma visits your bedchamber by moonlight after weeks spent away from the castle.

wc: 2.2k tags: 18+ only, fantasy au, princess!reader, mage!kuroo, forbidden relationship, feels, fingering, mirror sex, unprotected sex, creampie -> requested

“Princess.”

Startling, you whip around from your place in front of the tall, gilded mirror to find an unexpected visitor casually leaning against the wall, the door to your chambers left slightly ajar.

“Kuroo,” you breathe out in surprise, eyes going wide, heart stumbling clumsily in your chest.

Your father ordered the mage off on a treacherous mission in enemy territory three weeks ago. Three long, arduous weeks that have left you fraught with worry, pacing your rooms late into the evening by the glow of candlelight. A small, haphazard pile of books sits on the window sill, evidence of your long hours spent perched there anxiously waiting for signs of a rider approaching the palace gates. 

Left to agonize over his absence in secret, your handmaidens were convinced you had fallen ill as you quietly moved through the castle like a ghost for days on end. 

Tension leaves your body in waves as you drink in the sight of him, alive and unharmed, save for a fading bruise on his jaw and a cut on his cheek. But the dark circles under his eyes betray the easy smile on his face—he must have just arrived and immediately sought you out, rather than retiring for the evening first. 

He pushes off of the brick to stride toward you, one hand subtly flicking backward, and the dancing shadows of torchlight from the hall beyond disappear as the large wooden door quietly clicks shut. 

“Is it Kuroo now again?” he asks. 

His hazel eyes flicker with the rest of the questions he leaves unasked—

Have you grown tired of this? Of him?

Has Prince Daichi finally asked for your hand?

Has this fool’s charade run its course?

You step toward him—and he waits. 

Because for as much as much power as the Mage of Nekoma wields, for all the old, rich magick that hums from the soil of the earth into the grasp of his fingertips—

This is your choice. 

���Tetsurou,” you whisper, chin wobbling as your eyes begin to sting with the threat of tears. 

He will always be your choice. 

His embrace is warm like nothing else can ever hope to be, steady in a way that settles the trembling of your knees and the knocking of your heart. 

It is nothing like the efficient sweep of your handmaidens’ palms over the wrinkles in your skirts or the weight of your father’s heavy hand atop your shoulder. 

It is not the brush of a prince’s lips against your knuckles or the physician’s gnarled fingertips at your temple.  

His touch is deliberate and familiar and all-consuming, a torch at the pyre beneath your ribcage that sets your heart strings alight. 

Tetsurou holds you like he knows you. 

Like he knows all that you’ve been, everything you are, what you’re still yet to be.

Warmth seeps deep into your bones, 

You wonder sometimes if he’s aware of the way his magick sinks into you when you meet, soft, tickling tendrils that wrap around your ribcage like the vines that climb the western palace walls. It’s a tender feeling that bleeds freely into the marrow of your bones, that leaves your nerves washed gold and humming with energy. 

It rolls around inside of you like a lazy feline in the afternoon sun, belly up with trust. 

Lips buried in your hair, he murmurs your name, the sound of it on his tongue lovelier than the most divine of incantations. 

“I was worried that—“ you inhale sharply, throat tight. 

“I’m here,” he assures you, calloused thumb drifting against the hinge of your jaw. 

Tetsurou’s lips are soft against yours when he takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. 

You dig your fingers in the front of his cloak, tears sliding down your cheeks as the side of his nose tenderly grazes yours. He drags his lips over the damp trails, hazel eyes meeting yours once more. 

“I’m here,” he says again, though you’re not certain if it’s to you or himself this time. 

A small laugh bubbles up out of you, the roiling emotions in your gut capsizing under the trajectory of his steady gaze. 

“You’re here.”

Tetsurou smiles. 

Nudging you back toward the ornate mirror, he tells you to turn around. You watch as he reaches into a pocket, pulling out a delicate golden chain. 

“I know you won’t be able to wear it out and about, but—“

Your heart flutters. 

“Put it on me, please.”

Tetsurou offers you a boyish, lopsided smile, the same one he gives you when you insist he spell your chamber door shut and remain in your bed late into the morning.

The one he gives when you tell him you’d sooner flee the country with him on horseback with nothing but a satchel, rather than be forced to let another man take your hand on the basis of status and decorum alone. 

Deft fingers brush over the nape of your neck, and you shiver at the sensation, watching as the chain comes to rest at the base of your throat. 

A tiny, sparkling ruby dangles at the center, and something tender rouses inside of you as you think of the similar red gemstone that dwells in the golden band that never leaves the middle finger of Tetsurou’s right hand. 

He catches you staring at said ring. “You don’t have to wear it if—“

“It’s perfect.” You cover his hand with your own, lacing your fingers together. “Thank you.”

Tetsurou grins, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “Now the real question is, why are you still awake and dressed at this hour?”

Letting your head fall back against him, you sigh. “I told the handmaids I could manage on my own tonight, but now I can’t get this damned dress off.”

Thumb pressed against the small of your back, he asks, “Would you like some help then, my Lady?”

You roll your eyes fondly at the title. “I beg of you, sir. I ask you most ardently to employ the diligent use of the arcane to—“

Your words die on your lips as a pleasant, tingling feeling washes over you, your dress softly falling to the floor, the complicated hooks and ties giving way under the command of Tetsurou’s magick. 

Left only in the gauzy fabric of your shift, you look at him in the mirror, lips pursed playfully. 

“What ever would my father say if he knew what blasphemy the Mage of Nekoma wields his power for in the Princess’ bedchamber?”

Tetsurou’s breath is hot against the shell of your ear as he leans in. “What would the court say if they knew how their lovely Princess writhes and begs under the unbecoming touch of his mana?”

Your shift joins your dress on the floor, leaving you bare save for the necklace. 

“One should only be so lucky to know the feeling,” you whisper, cupping the hand currently tracing your jaw and pressing a kiss to his palm. 

“One should only be so lucky to witness it,” Tetsurou rasps back, tilting your chin to redirect your gaze back to your reflection as he traces the curves of your breasts. 

His hand slides down your chest, past your belly button, coming to rest in the valley between your upper thighs. 

He stares at you while he carefully moves his thumb across your clit, toying with the sensitive bundle of nerves as it swells and begins to throb. You watch him dip lower, two digits slotting into the slick heat of your folds, gliding wetly in your damp arousal. 

The touch of Tetsurou’s fingers here is a familiar pleasure, one that’s sent you toppling over the edge and moaning helplessly into the curve of his shoulder many times over. 

But it’s a wholly new experience to watch as he does it, to see the way his eyes darken as glistening arousal slides down the inside of your thighs. To see his thick fingers disappear as he sinks one, then two into the tight heat of your cunt. 

You moan, letting your weight fall back against his chest. 

“No amount of coin in my pocket could rival this luck, this fortune,” he breathes out, voice rough. “No title nor kingdom, not in this realm or the next.”

Tetsurou groans when you reach backward, fingers threading in his black hair, leaving the strands haphazard and mussed as you tug. 

He cups your breast, thumb dragging pointed circles over your pebbled nipple. Fire licks its way into your gut, your back arching with each subsequent plunge of his fingers into your slick entrance. A lewd, squelching sound fills the room, accompanied by your soft, breathy moans. 

A hand turns your drifting focus back to the mirror, where you tremble lust drunk in the carefully sculpted golden frame. And even with his fingers busy caressing the side of your neck while his other hand strokes your plush inner walls, a sensation seeps over your swollen breasts. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, a whine whistles up your throat as Tetsurou’s magick strokes them with the ghost of a touch. 

“Tetsu, please,” you gasp, all at once feeling woefully underfilled as your desperation blooms white-hot. 

His cloak slips from his shoulders, pooling on the floor, and you find yourself greedily drinking in the flash of his chest from the loose ties of his tunic. He shrugs off the black material as well, and it’s a battle in and of itself to resist the urge to spin around and trace your fingers over the carefully inked runes that permanently adorn his skin. It’s a ritual—the way you trace your fingers over the shapes, the way his eyes fall shut as you kiss the one that sits atop the jagged scar on his collarbone. 

There’ll be time for that later, beneath the whisper of moonlight that yawns through the glass panes as you lie tangled beneath the sheets. 

He hardly has his cock out of his trousers before you’re pressing back against him, too needy and impatient from  weeks spent apart. 

“Lean forward,” he murmurs, guiding you to grasp the edges of the mirror on either side. 

A thrill races up your spine as you look at your reflection, watching the reverent way he slides his palms over the globes of your ass. He gently nudges your legs further apart, one hand coming to rest at your hip as he slowly drags his length against your folds. 

Notching the head of his shaft at your entrance, he pointedly locks eyes with you before he begins to sink into your tight hole. Inch by inch, the pleasure inside of you expands rapidly until you can hardly breath, your cunt aching with the satisfaction of being filled so very deep. 

Despite all of the times you’ve looked into Tetsurou’s eyes while he beds you, it’s a wholly new experience here as you grasp the mirror and meet his lust-filled gaze. He makes you feel wanted and desired like nothing and no one else, but to see it reflected back in this gilded frame now like a spectator leaves you dizzy under a heady, abrupt wave of carnal desire. 

“Tetsurou,” you moan, careless of your volume since the day he spelled your walls blessedly silent. 

Stars prick behind your eyes as he rolls his hips into yours, his cock sinking deep into the damp heat of your cunt, gripped tight by your walls with each push and drag. 

Your fingers ache from how hard you’re clinging to the mirror now. Tetsurou groans, his own hands wrapped around your hips. Your toes curl tightly against the carpet when he buries his cock to the hilt, folding his body over yours and pressing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses to your back. 

“Harder,” you breathe out, a need, a plea. 

Tetsurou obliges, your sweat slick skin sliding against his as he begins to roughly pound into you. Your legs start to shake as you lose your grip on the searing feeling that’s been steadily building up in your abdomen. The tender caress of his magick spreads in your veins between one breath and the next, stablizing your trembling limbs. 

And then the pleasure inside of you explodes. 

Your climax punches through you like a northern gale, and Tetsurou’s name is a moaning sob on your lips as you slip past your melting point into a euphoric daze. Thick, hot ropes of cum spill into your tight channel a breath later as his cock pulses with his own release, your cunt milking him dry.

You hardly remember Tetsurou cleaning you up and carrying you to bed after, save for the warmth of his body curled around yours while you slipped into your first restful sleep in over a fortnight. 

When you wake the next morning, the mage is regretfully gone with duties to attend following his return. 

But a single red flower sits waiting in a vase on the window sill. 

An early winter frost creeps its way across the glass panes, a stark contrast to the vibrant life that remains in that single clipping.

Tetsurou told you once that the care of flowers is a delicate magick, for one must cherish each petal. 

[janearts]

okay but what is the state of astarion's kidneys? what has roisia observed in regards to astarion's kidneys? i must now know!

[Anon is referencing this post.]

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Who knows? Roisia's observations below the read-more.

[Just a wee reminder that I'm not a medical professional. Take everything I say below with a grain of salt as I am just as likely to be flat out wrong. I also want to acknowledge that I'm mixing in some stereotypical vampire traits with what we can figure out about vampires in BG3.]

Roisia believes that Astarion has a partially functioning cardiovascular system. That is to say, he certainly contains blood. He bruises and he bleeds. He can even perish from exsanguination himself. He can experience erections (presumably, anyway). Why he doesn't have a heartbeat is beyond her. Does his blood just sit stagnant in his arteries and veins? What the hell is going on in there?

In the living, kidneys form a pivotal function: they filter the waste (urea) in your blood and create urine to be expelled from the body via the bladder. They also perform a critical function by regulating the blood in your body (volume, pressure, acidity, etc.).

So Roisia knows, for example, that the average medium-sized humanoid has roughly 5 litres of blood in them. The kidneys make sure you stay at whatever level is natural for you, because excessive fluid will increase the pressure on your arterial walls. So the question for Roisia becomes: if Astarion drinks blood to excess, would he experience hypertension or bloating? Or perhaps both? Or maybe neither?

In some form or fashion, the waste that Astarion intakes (e.g., if you're into the vampire version of menstruation sexy times, if he drinks from Roisia's external jugular, etc.) or generates through his own bodily functions needs to be expelled. Does he piss it out? Does he sweat it out? Does he vomit it out? Does it misty escape out of his body while he rests?

The answer could simply be: the waste is magicked out of his body and that's that. If Roisia knew that Astarion urinates, then she would assume his kidney is probably functioning to some degree. If his urinary system is non-functioning, then she would be curious as to how the critical functions mentioned above are managed or if they're even necessary at all for the undead.

TL;DR: Roisia would likely have some sort of idea, but I (IRL) don't have the information I feel I need to even hazard a guess. And I must say questions like this would make Roisia want so very, very badly to take a peek at his insides or at the insides of any vampire or vampire spawn. She is not a Dark Urge character, but that is her dark urge born from an insatiable curiosity to figure out how people—living, dead, or undead—work.

Bonus Points:

Roisia would answer her own questions above with the following theories:

Digestive system could be partially functional if the blood that is consumed is sent to the stomach and then absorbed in whole or in part through the digestive process.

Respiratory system is also likely partially functional. I.e., Astarion can use his lungs (to speak or sigh, for example), but neither a vampire nor a vampire spawn requires air.

Endocrine system is likely no longer functional. (This is my own headcanon so Roisia doesn't have to worry about an unwanted pregnancy.) She knows that the endocrine systems of a Vampire lord are likely somewhat functional due to the existence of Dhampyr. His colder body temperature could be the result of the lack of function of the hypothalamus.

Integumentary system is likely functional to a certain degree. E.g., vampires and vampire spawn are naturally regenerative, but if you were to shave Astarion bald, would his hair grow back to the way it was prior to his death? Skin also helps with temperature regulation and provides a barrier from UV radiation, so it may not be fully functional if his body is a colder temperature and is extremely sensitive to sunlight. (Are his melanocytes dysfunctional or dead?)

Lymphatic system is likely functional to some degree. This would assist the blood consumption + waste removal processes, presumably. It's a bit of a stretch, but since Astarion can experience a diseased condition type (e.g., Flesh Rot, Contagion), perhaps surviving that (after 25 turns) could be spun as an indication of a non-magical immune response?

[thecupidwitch]

Planetary Magick🌙

Sun

Zodiac: Leo

Metal: Gold

Day: Sunday

Colors: organge, yellow, amber

Stones: Amber, topaz, ruby, diamond

Tarot: The Sun

Herbs: Angelica, poppy, sunflower, marigold, hibiscus, mistletoe

Symbols: lion, hexagram, sparrow hawk, dragon, head, heart, swan

Influences: renown, potency, fortune, tyranny, pride, ambition, masculinity, arrogance, bigotry, vitality, health

Moon

Zodiac: cancer

Metal: sliver

Day: Monday

Colors: blue, sliver

Stones: moonstone, pearl

Tarot: The High Priestess, The Chariot

Herbs: eucalyptus, coconut, jasmine, lotus, myrrh, sandalwood

Symbols: bow and arrow, crab, cat, turtle, Sphinx, owl

Influences: gradtitufe, friendliness, safe, travel, physical health, wealth, protection for enemies, deception, illusion, women, emotions, healing, dreams

Mercury

Zodiac: Virgo, Gemini

Metal: aluminum, Mercury

Day: Wednesday

Colors: violet, gray, purple, indigo, yellow

Stones: opal agate

Tarot: The Lovers

Herbs: hyssop, juniper, betony, carrot, chickweed

Symbols: wand, octagram, the mind

Influences: good fortune, gratitude, gain, memory, understanding, divination, dreams, forgetfulness, communication, business, cleverness, creativity, information, intellect, memory, perception, science, wisdom, gambling, writing, root of dishonesty, deception

Venus

Zodiac: taurus, libra

Metal: copper

Day: Friday

Colors: green, pink

Stones: turquoise, emerald, sapphire, jade

Tarot: The Empress

Herbs: jimsonweed, violet, rose, alder, apple, angelica, olive, sesame

Symbols: sparrow, dove, swan, pentagram

Influences: peace, agreements, cooperation, fertility, joy, love, good fortune, jealousy, strife, promiscuity

Mars

Zodiac: aries, scorpio

Metal: iron, red brass, steel

Day: Tuesday

Color: Red

Stones: ruby, garnet, bloodstone, diamond

Tarot: The Tower

Herbs: ginger, mustard

Symbols: sword, pentagram, horse, bear, wolf, vulture

Influences: war, victory, judgements, submission of enemies, bleeding, stripping one of rank, harness, discord, conflict, aggression, lust, power, courage, goals, protection, motivation, ambition, strength

Jupiter

Zodiac: pisces, sagittarius

Metal: tin

Day: Thursday 

Colors: blue

Stone: sapphire

Tarot: The Wheel of Fortune

Herbs: balm, hyssop, maple leaf and bark, oak, sage, dandelion root

Symbols: eagle, dolphin

Influences: gains, riches, favor, peace, cooperation, appeasing enemies, dissolving

Saturn

Zodiac: capricorn

Metal: lead

Day: Saturday

Color: black

Stone: onyx

Taror: The World

Herbs: alder, apple, ash, asparagus, baneberry, belladonna, distort, hellebore, blackthorn, corm, cypress

Symbols: cuttlefish, mole

Influences: safety, power, success, positive response to requests, intellect, causes discord, strips honor, melancholy

Uranus

Zodiac: aquarius

Day: Thursday

Colors: blue-green, electric blue

Stones: quartz, labradorite, blue topaz, amber, amethyst, garnet, diamond

Tarot: The Fool

Herbs: clover, pokeweed, snowdrop, foxglove, love, rosemary, trees of heaven, hellebore, morning glory, sage, wintergreen, orchids, sweet woodruff

Symbols: dragonfly, butterfly

Influences: breaking connection, sudden and unexpected change, freedom, originality, radical and revolutionary ideas, enlightenment, equality, individuality, rebellion, instability, loneliness, boredom, mistrust of self

Neptune

Zodiac: pisces

Minerals: coral, aquamarine, platinum, neptunium

Colors: green, blue, lavender

Tarot: The Hanged Man

Herbs: morning glory, night-blooming jasmine, pine, water lily

Symbols: the sea, Trident, the spine

Influences: dissolving boundaries, expanding upon ideas, changing established rules, intuition, idealism, sacrifice, glamour, illusion, evolution, decay, visions, art, healing, inspiration, dreams, creativity, compassion, drifting from reality, carelessness, stubbornness, absent mind

Pluto

Zodiac: scorpio

Metal: plutonium, tin chrome, steel

Day: Tuesday

Colors: maroon, dark red, purple, white, black

Stones: snowflake obsidian, clack tourmaline

Tarot: Judgement

Herbs: pomegranate, rosemary, vanilla, basil, poppies, belladonna, foxglove

Symbols: Phoenix, snake, scorpion, fox, eagle

Influences; destruction making way for renewal, rebirth, knowledge, spirituality, transformation, destiny, the subconscious, desire, arrogance, death, obsession, destruction

[astra-ravana]

The Poison Path

The Poison Path is a unique and intriguing aspect of witchcraft that involves the use of psychotropic and toxic plants in rituals, spellwork, and other magickal practices. This ancient and often misunderstood path offers profound insights into the relationship between humanity and the natural world, emphasizing the transformative power of these potent botanicals. These plants are often referred to as 'baneful herbs' and have been used for centuries in various cultures for their powerful effects on the mind and body. The term "Poison Path" highlights the dual nature of these plants- they can heal or do harm, depending on the knowledge and intent of the practitioner.

History

The use of toxic plants in magick dates back to ancient times. Many traditional witchcraft practices involved the use of these potent herbs for ritual, divination, and healing. Plants like belladonna, henbane, and mandrake were commonly used by witches and herbalists for their medicinal and mind altering properties.

In his book, Veneficium: Magic, Witchcraft, and the Poison Path, Daniel A. Shulke delves into the historical and cultural significance of these plants. He explains that the knowledge of toxic plants was highly guarded and often passed down through generations of practitioners.

"Toxic plants have been used not only for their physical effects, but also for their symbolic and spiritual significance. They represent the balance of life and death, healing and harm."

Practices of the Poison Path

Practitioners of the Poison Path use toxic plants for various purposes, including:

• Rituals and Ceremonies- Baneful herbs are often used in rituals to induce altered states of consciousness, allowing witches to commune with spirits, deities, and otherworldly entities.

• Divination and Scrying- The mind altering effects of certain plants can enhance divination practices, helping seers gain deeper insights and visions.

• Healing and Protection- Despite their toxic nature, many of these plants have medicinal properties and are used in small, controlled doses for healing or protection.

Words of Warning

These plants have varying toxicities and some have the potential to sicken or kill. Do plenty of research before injesting, using herbs topically, or burning them. Then do some more research, just to be sure. With common sense, these botanicals make powerful additions to any working and are absolutely worth using. By approaching this path with respect, caution, and proper knowledge, one can unlock profound insights and enhance your magickal practices.

Plants on the Poison Path

• Aconite (Wolf's Bane)

• Lobelia

• Belladonna (Deadly Nightshade)

• Milkweed

• Datura

• Pokeweed

• Pointsettia

• Black Walnut

• Hellebore

• Snapdragon

• Yarrow

• Pennyroyal

• Lilac

• Dogbane

• Calamus

• Hemlock

• Sassafras

• White Snake Root

• Fleabane

• Fly Agaric

• Bloodroot

• St. John's Wort

• Henbane

• Rue

• Tansy

• Aloe

• Bittersweet

• Poppy

• Lily of the Valley

• Mandrake

• Elder

• Hartstongue

• Lobelia

• Wormwood

• Buttercup

• Arnica

• Licorice

• Loco Weed

• Black Nightshade

• Foxglove

• Eyebright

• Bleeding Heart

• Mistletoe

• Vervain

• Oleander

• Blue Cohosh

• Yew

• Broom

• Castor Bean

• Dragon's Breath

• Lady's Mantle

• Morning Glory

• Monkshood

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

Boop!

"...I expected something far more chaotic and much less wholesome today."

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

@overx​

Pain does not begin to describe this sensation.

Horrible, searing light.

The vision does not last as that thing pulls him in, as his left eye melts into the mass. Voluntas can feel pieces of himself being torn away, absorbed into the sunlit creature with too many limbs, too many mismatched pieces.

Skin, muscle, bone.

His blood never hits the ground, it too is taken into the entity that seized him.

.

.

.

The last thing he remembers is... excruciating. The infernal's hand moves for the side of his head, instinctive, before he registers his vision is still full. Healed that eye after all.... he wasn't sure he'd be able to regenerate after that fucking thing grabbed him.

Clawed fingertips touch a would be gash in his face, the remnants of an all consuming force. A scar. His first. His only. 

Is it fear of an unnatural death that stills him... or merely his vanity? That he will be forever marked as a reminder of his failure twists inside him. One of the most powerful beings in this world, and he was blindsided. Face marred, pride wounded. 

It would have been better if that thing had finished him off. To be rescued, stitched back together... an insult. 

Volt is slow to sit up, deliberate in his movements. In taking in his surroundings. A familiar chamber. That's right, he'd been with....

"KiZ’met." The name is furious in his mouth, a snarl of teeth with each syllable.

Quite a stumble they’d had. He should have seen the signs. A warzone, their field of advantage and their home in the bloodied soil, but not without consequence. It mattered not that the Infernals had been hired on opposite sides or allies; the battlefield was their flesh and blood just as much as the depths of volcanoes or frigid ice of the ocean.

Wailing of agony, of fear and mourning, music to the ears. This was what happened when not one, but two Demons of Wrath were called to wage war. Survivors would be few. Their employers knew not the carnage they would call.

...But humans in agony, a place of worship towards another imaginary God destroyed, this much raw emotion in one place. The components were all there. He’d felt the pull of energy in the shuddering of the ice crystals on his back, the grasping black hole of magic. Even for as old as he was, the instinct to get away, escape was still just as strong.

He would have had, but-- Voluntas. The thought was immediate and he’d turned just as quickly towards the source, and by the time he’d gotten there, the Ice Demon of Wrath had feared it too late. To find his only Other limp-- arms, wings and tail dangling-- slowly absorbed by the hand of light that had sunk into his face. What face...? There was barely a jawbone, part of a horn poking out of the white limb.

No signs of struggle, caught unaware. There would be one now, his rage plunging his blood cold. KiZ’met had stalked towards the Angel, spikes of frigid ice piercing the ground he walked upon, hellbent.

And then.....

....

..

.

Silver and gold, mixing. It leaves only a single small scar, but that is far better than he could have asked for. It’d taken everything he’d had to restore such loss. Would those gold eyes ever open again...? Better to have at least a body, to give it a proper eternal burial, if never again. Like slumbering forever in a casket of glass. He’d wait first, turn his head towards Death and ask for an aversion.

Celerity is the one who tells him, days later after his own reservoir had replenished, of movement. KiZ is not the doting type; his Other would find him eventually after he’d regained his faculties, but relief is there as best it could be. Even that anger is welcomed, though the Infernal does not coddle it. 

His tone is the same as it ever had been. “Voluntas.”

[overx]

A quiet, unassuming night it seems. How dull. The demon finds himself almost disappointed with the lack of action. Still, even the most lively creatures need a respite now and then. It might be a fortunate thing, if it allows him to get a better lay of the land.

Behind the bar, a voice greets him. Casual, yet to the point. You are an efficient one. The Infernal is plenty familiar with this scene, and the usual personalities of staff and bar flies alike. The establishment changes, vibe bars, lounges, clubs, yet all is routine just the same. Except... he has to look twice. Detecting a lack of a normal living soul in that frame.

Not a human-- although Voluntas couldn't begin to guess at the real answer. Now that is interesting. "Good evening." Volt saunters to the bar thoughtful as he situates himself. His gaze dances across the bottles and labels behind the counter, then back to the server across from him.

"What do you recommend?" Can you even drink any of this? "I like to be adventurous, if that helps." A sly grin.

@overx asks...

If memory serves... hadn't there been a bar somewhere in this neighborhood? Or... had that been the other timeline? Voluntas recalled liking the bartender at the time but... the landscape may well have changed since last he passed through. Mortal live are so fast paced like that-- especially in a restless city like this. At last, a somewhat familiar sign catches his eye, and the demon finds himself wandering through the lounge doors. [[For either version of Matthew or Polybius? ^v^]]

Making his way into the lounge would be a simple enough task - he had to take an elevator or the stairs up, but it would only be a few floors up. Upon entering, the scene is pretty tranquil tonight. No fights, no problem customers... nothing of the sort, just a chill night.

As though there were a connection however, Matthew seemed to be out this time. Behind the bar was someone else this time - a rather unassuming looking man. He was in the middle of cleaning a glass when he looked up to greet Voluntas.

"Oh, good evening," he says simply, setting the glass down. "Welcome to the Firefly Lounge. Can I get you anything to drink tonight?"

[overx]

Meteor

[daportalpractitioner]

performing magick with in sync with your cycle

bleed phase: protection, banishing

follicular: uncrossing+road opener, prosperity

ovulation: glamour, love, sex

luteal: healing, cord cuttings

there are so many different kinds of spells + rituals that you can perform, but these are very common + beginner friendly!

[k-hotchoisan]

🔮 Divination with the Demon 🔮

Behemoth demon!San x fem witch! Reader

Synopsis: outcasted by your previous coven due to your overly sharp and dangerously specific divination readings of the fall of your coven, you were exiled to being alone for the next 562 years. Sick being in solitude and missing your deck, you summon a behemoth demon to make a new one.

Word count: 6K

Genre warnings: general Smut, San is an eldritch being so he has like a demon sized dick, ritualistic things (magic talk and lingo), demonic contract with San through unprotected sex, riding, multiple orgasms, creaming & cream pies, oral sex (f receiving) cum drinking (not a lot), bulge kink, finger pricks (only once), dry humping(?), biting and bleeding, San is a really sweet behemoth—just like the one in the game!❤️

A/n: loosely based off this wonderful game—The Cosmic Wheel, Sisterhood🔮 (please go ahead and support indie creators! ❤️). I was so inspired bc the behemoth in game is such a flirt hehehehe no please I’m down bad for enough people already. 😐

Enjoy!

“So you were exiled here due to treason within the coven, and concern of spreading panic via divination readings by the supreme”, the witch arbitrator announces as she reads out from the book. “You’ve been here for 289 years already?”

“Concerned is an overstatement”, you reply through gritted teeth. “She cursed me, banished me here for the next 562 years, and burned my deck. That’s pretty fucked up.”

The arbitrator raises an eyebrow as her gaze returns to the book. “Well I suppose I could grant you visitation at least because by the records here so far, you’ve been pretty-behaved.” Your temper cools off a little—just a little. It was a step forward, albeit a fucking tiny one. “Yes. I think that would be fine, Arbitrator. Thank you.”

She nods at you. “Behave well and I’m sure she can’t implicate anything else on you. Please take care”, she says before leaving the window on her flying stick. You stare as her figure quickly disappears into the starless night sky.

You sigh in annoyance. It was ridiculous how the supreme deemed your divination readings a threat, then subsequently accused you of treason and causing unrest within the coven, just because the other sisters had started leaning onto you for your accurate readings. Was she afraid of your prophesized dissolving of the coven, or was she simply scared of being overthrown? Whatever it was, being stuck here in solitude for 562 years, and your deck burned at the stake was not on your bingo list.

You nibble on your thumb nail, thinking of what to do. 289 years had passed since then, and all you had been doing was meditate and reflect on your actions. You had an itching to get your deck back—or least have a temporary deck or something. Your eyes flicker to your grimore lying at the bottom of your bookshelf and a lightbulb goes off in your head.

If you couldn’t get your deck back, why not make a new one? However the only issue is that a contract had to be made in order to breathe magick into the deck. You’ve never tried this ritual before but desperate times called for desperate measures—you really needed to do a reading.

You circle the wooden floor with your fingers, feeling the bumpy texture—each crease and indent. Retrieving your matchbox, you pull out the deep purple matchstick from the bundle, and began lighting the dark-coloured candles formed in a circle, and finally the incense sticks that were lodged in a miniature caldron, used for holding said sticks for your rituals.

Dabbing your your index finger with a black inky substance, you draw out a summoning rune onto the wooden surface, chants leaving your lips as you do so. It was a perfect full moon that night, just what you needed. You sit at edge of the summoning circle, with your grimore open at the side, carefully reading the spell.

Taking out a small silver needle, you prick your middle finger, letting the blood pool the size of a pinprick before letting the drop of blood splatter onto the middle of the black rune, reciting your final chant.

For a moment, the room is dead silent. Then the wind picks up, howling into the dead of the night, the flames on the candles dancing to keep burning, then being quickly extinguished one by one. Your curtains flutter violently, as you notice the full moon turning into a crimson colour. You stay seated as the wind whirls around you and the grimore’s pages flipping non stop. The rune activates, along with your blood which sinks into the black ink, and something slithers up to your window.

“Come in,” you invite, your gaze never breaking from the entity. It hisses at first before turning into a more human-sized creature as it enters your room, its feet gingerly touching the wooden floor.

The candles’ flames flicker back on, you look up at the entity standing before you. He barely looked like a behemoth demon—not like the one described in the book at all. Instead, he looked pretty fucking young—he has an appearance of a younger male actually. His eyes were silts as black and red markings smudged at the ends of his eyes. Speaking of his eyes—they were a glowing red, almost enchanting. Incantation runes were littered all over his arms and limbs, all visible since he was wearing a black vest. A third eye was present right smack in the middle of where his cleavage dived into, it’s iris a deep red as well. His hair is jet black with cream streaks and slicked back, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and facial features. His lips are stretched slightly wider than a human’s, and seemingly torn black wings extended out from his back.

He tilts his head at you in curiosity. “A witch summoned me?” he asks as he inches closer to you.

You nod, still seated. “I’ve summoned you to make a blood bind with you. I need a new deck.”

“Well, you’ve definitely summoned the right behemoth, that’s for sure. What happened to the deck you’ve been using?” he prods, his jet black fingers tapping on his chin.

“It was burned by my coven’s supreme. She banished me here because she was scared that the coven would dissolve because of my divinations”, you reply.

“Quite a bitch isn’t she?” the behemoth replies. You nod. At least someone fucking agrees.

He cracks his knuckles. “Well, you’ve definitely came to the right behemoth. They call me San”, he introduces as a smile spreads over his pretty face.

You smile. “You don’t look how what I expected you to look actually.”

And that cracks San up, his sharp fangs all visible. “I get that a lot. It’s just my secondary form I prefer to take on since the first usually can’t fit through windows.”

You surprise your laughter, amused at how casual this behemoth is being. “You’re pretty casual for a behemoth actually,” you point out.

San nods. “Well, I am an eldritch nonetheless, and I’ve been here since these universes were born—I’ve watched them be born and destroyed countless of times. I don’t really feel the need to be intimidating since I’ve been around for too long. You’re the first to have summoned me since the past 3 centuries.”

You nod in interest. “Must have been pretty fucking boring out there, huh?” San only smiles, and that slightly gets you. You look away and shut the grimore before turning back to him.

“So walk me through the process, San” you request. San moves forward and he sits across you, his boney wings tapping against the window panes at how wide they were.

“Well, you know the basics, but we’ll go through it together—the elements—fire, air, earth and water are always the building foundations of any deck. You get that, right?”

You nod.

He continues, “then we go onto the elements of each card—the Arcana—which will determine how you read and interpret the cards.”

Pretty basic deck stuff, but it was great that he was taking the time to refresh your memory since it had been way too long.

“I will go through each element with you per day—you’re basically going back to magick school again. Then once the final element is sealed, that’s when I’ll bind myself to you, through another ritual”, he concludes. “Any questions?”

“What’s the other ritual? Do I need to prepare anything?” You ask. San shakes his head. “The only thing you need to prepare is your consent.”

“Yeah, sure of course.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest y/n.”

Day one: Air

Sure enough, at the same timing as the previous night, San slithers into your open window, his serpent-like tail splitting into two, long legs as he climbs into your room.

“Good evening to the lovely behemoth”, you greet. San exposes his fanged grin. “I see you’re already prepared for the first lesson.” He glances at the empty deck of cards piled up on the small wooden table. Scattered around are more candles, another stick of incense, crystals and a bowl of ink for rune casting, and finally, a small crystal sword right by the plate.

He begins. “The element air represents the ability to reflect, communicate, to be aware and to perceive. Let that flow through your veins as you charge the card.”

You gingerly placed an empty card onto the selenite plate, and San sits across you, as usual as his fingertips touch yours, where he ends up linking his fingers with yours.

“It’s time to seal the card. Tell me,” San asks, “what do you crave for the most? Power? Love? Knowledge of the universe?”

You pause to think about your answer. And you tell him once you’re ready. He nods in agreement. “You seem like the type.” You roll your eyes.

“We literally just met yesterday, San” you joke. He shrugs, “feels like I’ve known you for an eternity.”

“Lying ass,” you poke. “But you did mention that the last time you did this was, what, three centuries ago?”

San nods. “It definitely has been awhile. To be fairly honest, I had an inkling we would meet soon, just not this soon.”

“And the universe brought you to me”, you hum. “Okay. Back to the Air ritual.”

He gestures you to shut your eyes and you do, so he follows shortly after.

It doesn’t take long for the magick to activate. You feel your energy getting sucked off by San and it feels though as if your body was about to be ripped into a million pieces. San throws his head back in pleasure as a low, manic cackle rumbles through his vocal chords.

“Yes, that’s lovely. Pour in all that energy into me, master”, he sings. He soon lets go of you, and you gasp for air, beads of perspiration clinging onto your forehead and temples. Your hands had slipped out his and you clutch your chest, taking slow breaths.

“Fuck, San, is it supposed to hurt so much?” You heave, eyebrows furrowed. How in Astaroth’s name will you be able to pull through the next three elements if Air is already leaving you clutching for your fucking life? Granted, witches are immortal, they cannot die, but they can still be gravely wounded.

San turns to you and pats your back gently. “I’m sorry my master, it is part of the blood contract. If it makes you feel better, you only have to go through this once per element.”

You stare at him in disbelief, unsure if you should be concerned or relieved. San materialises a silk handkerchief and dabs the sweat off your skin, and your heart flutters slightly at the gesture. Also, since when did he start calling you ‘Master’?

“Your first air card is ready”, he reminds you. “Now you can create more air elemental cards. Be proud of yourself, my master.” He points to the glowing card on the selenite plate. You reach over and flip the card, and sure enough—what you had envisioned on the card was imprinted onto the once empty card. It glimmers a gorgeous white at its accents. You feel the light and airy feeling surging through your hands as you touch the card, and your heart is racing at how many air cards you can begin creating.

He intertwines his fingers with yours, to steady yourself, and you notice that the third eye on his chest was white now. Your breathing has stabled now and you lie onto your bed where San hums you to sleep, telling you to get some rest.

Day 2: Water

“Are you feeling better?” San asks as he hops into your room. You nod, feeling a strange surge of energy after a night’s rest. The sky was always the same—dark and starless.

“We can start with today’s element”, you say, prepared for the class.

San smiles and nods, as always, he takes a seat across you, and you can’t help but get lost in his crimson eyes.

“Water is all about flow, dealing with emotions, fluidity, spirituality. It is a passive element, often linked with healing and love. However, most witches tend to forget that the calmest elements can be the most deadly when used right.”

Undoubtedly, water was always of both opposite spectrums—extremely calm or extremely malevolent if it wanted to be. Today, you had a small chalice decorated in jewels on the body, filled with moon-charged water. You take another empty card, and begin sketching out the rune you want, with your first water card in your head, clear as day before settling it onto the plate. Once you were done, San’s fingers snake in between yours, and you’re starting to get used to this feeling already.

“Now, the Water seal. Tell me; who or what do you hold closest to your heart? You family? Your intelligence? The coven?

It takes you awhile to think of an answer but then you’re confident when it comes to you. San nods as he lets the answer sink in. “I was kind of hoping you’d stray and say my name, yknow,” he teases. You laugh and slap his palm lightly. “It very well could be. It’s kind of hard to pick though honestly. Maybe I just want to feel something again.”

San cocks an eyebrow, quite touched by your passion. “May this lift any heaviness you feel then”, he says, drawing circles into your palm. Your heart only flutters even more.

“Take a deep breath, master. The element will be sealed soon.”

Just like the previous time, the magick activates, and again, you feel a sharp pain, as if struggling against rough tides of water, your breath sucked out of you. San, humming as he absorbs your energy again, his eyes glowing a pale shade of blue this time. You exhale to get a hold of yourself as the feeling washes over as quickly as it came, clutching the edge of your table. You take deep breaths, your vision focusing on the blue glowing card on the selenite plate. You flip the card over, the serotonin boost seeing how gorgeous the water card was—metallic blue covering the borders of the card and the elements within the card at perfect places.

“I should give you a reading for fun”, you suggest, your fingertips tracing the edges of the card. San’s eyes light up at the idea. “We should do one when you’ve got all four elements. I’d love that.”

You slip the card above the Air element card, clearing out the table, preparing to get some rest as San accompanies you through the night.

Day three: Earth

“Now, Earth is known to be an element of grounding, practically, foundation and stability. It reminds you of who you are at the present moment and gives you a place to stand on”, San explains, flicking the coins on the table. “Just like the ground, it is reliable because it is strong enough to hold you up. The only thing is that it’s hard on you as you are hard on yourself.”

“Tell me; what do you tend to harbour the most? Grudges? The past? Emotions?” He asks again. You tap against your lips, wondering about the answer, and then you tell him once you were ready. He nods in acknowledgement. “Interesting answer, as always from you. You’d probably have a lot you held in, especially in the past hundreds years in solitude.”

“Meditation can only get you so far, when you remember that you were exiled for telling the truth”, you say quietly, staring at the moon, which had turned into a shade of ivory. “My sisters were everything to me.”

San knew that very well. Witches treated each other closer than what a conventional family did. A coven was supposed to protect and bond the sisters, not outcast them.

“But do you still have sisters that you want to see?”

You nod, your eyes twinkling at the thought of two precious sisters who had been there through everything. And you yearned to see them again, now even possible that the arbitrator had granted visitation rights. Maybe you’d send a falcon to them once you were done with your deck creation.

“Now, shall we begin? You’d best prepare yourself, master,” San says as he takes your hand in his. You feel your hands moulding into his automatically, nothing but comfort being offered.

Again, San begins extracting your energy and this time was no different from the previous—it stung, it hurt and a wave of nausea hits you this time. Through the ringing in your ears, you hear San’s laughter as the magick seems to tickle him if anything. And then, it was over.

You tilt your head backwards, trying to get some cool air, trying to let the nausea leave your system.

You feel a warm hand pat your back, then rubbing circles.

“You know, most witches would immediately throw up after this round. You’re holding up really well.”

“Guess I’m one of the best witches then?” You find the strength to joke a little. San laughs and replies, “one of my favourites too.”

The nausea soon goes away and colour starts returning to your cheeks. By then, you were already holding the Earth element card up against the moonlight, admiring the sand-coloured decals lined across the card, as well as the border.

Day four: Fire

San looks rather chirpy tonight, there was a bounce in his steps as he settles himself onto the lavender carpet. “Someone’s excited,” you smirk, putting one of your spell books away.

“Of course! Fire’s my favourite element”, he exclaims, playing around with your unfinished deck. You’ve had created a handful of elemental cards already, 12 of each element, while San was both in and out of your room. All there was left was the Fire element and the deck could almost be complete—you could already taste it. You already did a couple of readings as a warm up with San and you found out a couple of things through the divination readings.

One, his true purpose—other than aiding in the creation of divination decks—was to destroy other universes and guide the dead stars to the recreation of a new one.

Two, despite his chirpy demeanour, the cards revealed that there was some kind of loneliness he harbours, being detached and left to watch over the cosmos for millenniums.

Three, you sort of deduce that he was summoned also to seduce you in some sort of way—and he finds that amusing, and he doesn’t deny it.

Needless to say, San is greatly impressed by your divination skills and offhandedly mentions that he’s in love with the cosmos for bringing him to someone like you.

Soon enough, the both of you were back to business—sitting across each other, a wooden wand splayed across the table this time round.

He begins.

“Fire—the element of willpower, ambition and energy. Those who are able to wield this, wield it well, those who can’t—it takes them awhile. Fire is for inspiration, drive, passion. One of the most beautiful yet difficult elements to control. In the beginning, mankind was the first and the only mammals to be able to manipulate fire.”

“No wonder you like this element so much”, you point out as you scribble the rune onto the empty card.

“If you’re able to handle earth, fire might be a level up in intensity. Don’t push yourself if you can alright?” San reminds you, and you could spot the excitement glinting in his eyes. “Now for the seal; who would you sacrifice to the cosomos for your divination deck? Your immortality? Your coven? Or your family?”

That question weighs heavily in your mind and San gives you the time to answer as he plays with your fingers. You finally give him your answer, and he nods in understanding. “You’re willing to let that go?” You nod.

He smiles, “as long as you know it’s the right choice for you. Let’s begin.”

The ritual starts as usual—the swirl of flames from the candles, the howl of the winds. You prep yourself for the burn and it comes—albeit painfully. San’s eyes are fully engulfed in crimson red now, glowing as he feeds into your energy.

“Beautiful! Your essence is beautiful master! I’ve never felt such extraordinary energy from a witch!” He cries out as red fluid leaks down from his eyes. The runes and symbols on his limbs start glowing and his wings expand, filtering the moonlight. That is all you could remember before your mind buzzes, your ears ring and your head pounds as you black out.

Day ??

Your eyes flutter open, and something is different—you feel it. All the pain you’ve felt has faded, as if it never happened. In fact, energy was surging through you—so much energy. You slowly sit up as you look around the room. Everything looks the same as when you finished the fourth ritual. Perfectly at that moment, San emerges from the darkness and appears slightly different—his hair was slightly longer, his eyes had red smudges, which for some reason made him look even more attractive, and the third eye on his chest was a bright red.

“Hey, you’re awake”, he exclaims as he levitates over to you.

“Was it successful?” You ask. San furrows his eyebrows.

“My master, you were out cold for a couple of days, and the only thing you’re worried about is if the Fire ritual was successful? Care for yourself a little more would you?” San pouts as he pulls a cup of cold water into your arms with his magic.

You thank him softly as you take small sips.

“I was out for a few days from the ritual?” You ask again. San nods. Apparently you blacked out just right after San had finished feeding you, and he had caught you in time before you hit the floor.

“How are you feeling though? Any pain?” He asks, concerned as he brushes his fingers across your forehead. You shake your head and tell him you feel a little more different—more powerful or something. San pulls out the beautiful Fire card, reminding you of your craft. You break into a smile as you take the card off his hands and embrace him into a hug.

Now there was only one ritual left—whatever it was. San hasn’t told you yet and you were too engrossed with creating your cards that it slipped your mind.

“The last ritual,” you say, and you notice slight red tinting his cheeks and your curiosity peaks.

“The last ritual, is to bind us together”, he pauses, “through sex.”

Your jaw drops. “Holy fucking shit. Are you serious?”

San nods. “Yeah I am a behemoth in contract after all. That’s why I uh, said the only thing you needed to prepare for for the final ritual was your consent.”

It wasn’t about that. It was about you being fucked by a demon. You haven’t had physical contact with a human for years, let alone a whole ass demon.

“It might hurt compared to a mortal’s but I’ll try my best to be gentle”, he continues. But you see his confidence slowly dwindle the more you stay silent. “I need to consume your blood through biting as well in order for the pact to be bonded by blood.”

You never thought this would be how the contract would finish. Butterflies filled your stomach as you realise how attracted you were to this behemoth who, despite existing since the birth of the cosmos, was gentle and a soft, even a flirt. If anything, it was almost an honour to be one with him.

“Please, San. We can start the ritual. I wouldn’t ask for anyone else to do it with,” you confess as you leave yourself vulnerable for him. That sealed your consent, and the markings on his limbs start glowing again. San held an expression of relief and affection. He reaches out to you and traps you on the bed, in between his arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so happy to hear that”, San confesses next, and his eyes glow a soft, dark red hue. You could see he was trying to hold back.

He leans in slowly and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He is lips are soft and there was a slight burn as you kissed him, but it only drives you to want to indulge in him even more. Only behemoth demons could taste this good. Maybe only San.

You feel his appendage hardening above you and your heart races. He wasn’t kidding—he was way bigger than any of your previous mortal partners. No way was he gonna fit in you. But at the same time, the challenge of trying to take him was exhilarating to think about.

As the kiss continues to deepen, San pulls off his vest, revealing it bare, and you realise that only his limbs were covered in symbols. He peels off your top and tosses it onto the floor as he continues to kiss down to your chin then to your neck. You exhale in pleasure as your fingers find locks of his hair. His tongue licks your neck and it drives you crazy from the slight pricks.

Your bare tits are out for him to gawk at and he dives into them, licking and squeezing them, only pooling the arousal in between your legs.

Your grip on his hair tightens as your soft moans increase in pitch.

“Does that feel good, master?” San asks as he shifts forward to give you a kiss.

You trace some of the runes on his muscled arm, recognising a few of it. “You’ll look even prettier when my rune is engraved onto you, San”, you flirt, and you feel his cock harden even more, pressing against your cunt. “Of course, only for you, master,” he hums as he rubs you against him, and your mind starts getting lost in the pleasure. He peppers kisses down from your nipples, to your abdomen, then your pelvis and finally to your pulsating pussy.

He spreads your legs, glancing up at you before licking your clitoris, the small barbed edges of his tongue causing your hips to jerk upwards. He dives in deeper, wanting to turn you into a mess.

San slowly plunges two fingers into your wet cunt, swallowing hard at how tight your pussy was, imagining how his cock would definitely fucking stretch you out perfectly. He glances up again, looking at you for a reaction before continuing to pump his fingers. Your moans fill the room as he finger fucks you in bliss, hitting the perfect spot. He adds another and your hips lift from the pleasure. It takes a while for you to adjust, and he pulls out his fingers, soaked in your essence. He gives his fingers a good suck.

“Witches tend to have good tasting essences, and yours just happens to taste the best.” Red creeps across your cheeks.

He removes his pants and underwear, revealing a girthy cock, red and angry, spilling with precum. You had to touch the sides of your lips to make sure you weren’t drooling too much. Fuck, how are you gonna take that in you?

“You’re gonna be fine”, San assures. “Tell me if it’s too much for you okay?”

You nod and San presses his tip at your entrance, and pushes in. Your eyes roll back as he pushes another inch in. Fuck, even the heavens could never compete with this feeling of pleasure. San pauses for second and your eyes flicker to his face, which is contorted in pleasure. He seemed like he was about to explode—and he wasn’t even fully in you yet.

“Y/n, you’re so tight. Gods, you’re squeezing me so good”, he pants, his grip tightening against the sheets beside you.

You decide to be a tease, and you shift your cunt deeper into your cock, and San fucking loses it. His eyes were flickering from crimson red to a lighter shade of red. “My master,” he pants in between. “If you’re gonna do it like that, the heavens won’t know what I’d do if I lost control.”

And that provokes you to tease him even more as you push yourself deeper, at the same time bringing your pleasure to almost a fever pitch. San groans as he pushes the rest of him into you.

“Fuck, San, you feel so amazing. If I knew you’d feel this good, I would have summoned you way earlier”, you cry out as he barely pulls out fully before rutting back into you.

San doesn’t forget to pamper you with kisses. It stings, definitely, but the pleasure is definitely overriding the pain. In fact, the pain was probably egging the pleasure even more.

His fingers trace the bulge at where his cock lies in you. “We fit so well, Master. Don’t you think so?”

You were starting to feel to fucked out to form any rational thought, but you nod, staring at him through hooded lids. He fucks into you a couple more times before you stop him. San’s face switches to an expression of concern immediately.

“I want to ride you. I want to feel your cock fully in me, San”, you barely say, rubbing his face gently with your thumb. He sighs in relief as he pulls out of you, causing you to cry in pleasure again, a string of precum connecting his cock to your pussy.

He takes your hand and guides you to his lap as the both of you get comfortable on his lap.

You adjust yourself to sit on his cock and you start grinding against him, the mix of his and your precum reducing the friction and enhancing the pleasure. You made sure you move forwards to reach the tip of his cock and grind backwards. San throws his head back, crying from pleasure as more precum leaks from his sensitive tip. Grinding up on his cock was making you even more soaking wet, sparking even more pleasure as your clit rubs against his wet cock. You continue to swerve your hips on his cock, loving the slight friction that tingles your core. It builds up from the previous time he ate you out, and when he fucked you in missionary.

“How does that feel, Master?” San asks, half lidded. He was starting to get lost in the pleasure every time you grind up to his tip.

“It feels amazing. I think I’m gonna cum-“ you fight to finish the sentence as you speed up, feeling your orgasm approaching sooner than you expected. You cry out in bliss, your orgasm flooding you as your pussy pulses against San’s twitching cock. San is doing everything in his power not to just lift you and fuck you like this, seeing how soaked you were in pleasure with him.

You feel his hands trail up to your ass as he lifts you up gently, angling his cock at your entrance, and slowly lets you go. Your hands press hard against his naked chest as tears start pooling at the corners of your eyes, while drool starts pooling at the corners of your lips as you sink onto his cock.

“You can take me, Master. I know you can”, he whispers into your ears. You sink in deeper to his length and your fingers dig into San’s broad shoulders. His hands snake to your thighs and he cheekily pushes you down and you scream from the fullness of his cock.

“There you go. There’s my good Master. I love how your pussy feels around my cock”, San encourages. He lifts your ass and drops you back into his cock. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

You nod. “So good it’s almost sinful”, you mange out. San snickers. “Nothing too sinful if a behemoth is fucking you so well.”

You lean in for a kiss, and this surprises San but he immediately reciprocates, deepening the kiss quickly.

Soon enough, you are just mindlessly bouncing in his cock, every thrust sending you closer to the edge. San struggles to keep it together as well, as you feel him rutting his hips up.

“Master, I’m gonna cum”, San says, with an expression of desperation and desire.

“Go ahead. You’ve been doing so well”, you reply as you comb his hair back. He leans in, lips attached to your neck as he continues to fuck into you desperately. He bares his fangs and bites into you as his cock spurts into your cunt, filling you up to the brim. Blood pools at the base of your neck, and you cry from the simultaneous pain and pleasure, your second orgasm hitting you right at that point as you cream all over San’s cock.

San licks up the blood on your neck, and the skin heals almost as quickly as it broke just mere seconds ago, and he’s still fucking cumming in your pussy, his lower abdomen twitching.

He removes his lips from your neck and blood stains pool at the corner of his lips. You lift yourself off his cock, his cum just dripping out of your pussy. San holds you gently as he uses his free hand to collect the mixture of fluids on his fingers. He pushes his cum-covered fingers to you and you take it eagerly, savouring the taste albeit it being salty. He takes his turn to lick his hands.

“The contract has been sealed, master”, San confirms, and his eyes glow a bright red.

“That’s lovely. I wouldn’t ask for anyone else, San”, you smile as you plant a kiss on his lips, which takes him by surprise, but he seems nothing less of satisfied.

As the planet begins to shift from the blood pact being created, it shakes the universe. You don’t know what’s about to happen, nor do you care. A burst of energy enters you as you levitate into the air, feeling the energy of the cosmos, as well as elements of the deck. Your cards shuffle, and float around you, and you see all of your creations in its glory. Your own divination deck, bonded to you by blood.

You take a deep breath in, as you settle back onto the bed, your cards shuffling back into its deck, onto the selenite plate. Something catches your attention, and you walk over to the full length mirror leaning against the wall. Something is glowing. You gasp, looking at the behemoth’s rune engraved into your skin, a beautiful crimson red as the glow fades. San, right behind you, tracing over your rune fondly. You look up to him and you notice he has the same rune engraved into this skin—and the only rune around his chest.

“Now we’re official bonded. You did so well, my master,” he compliments, stroking your hair gently, understanding how taxing the rituals must have been, still admiring the shared runes you both had on your bodies. “I will make you happy, I promise.” Your heart skips at beat at his words.

“San”, you call out, even though he’s standing right by you. He hums in attention, his eyes now on you.

“Do you think we could do this more often? Like the fucking?”

San is stunned for a moment as he processes the question. No one had asked him that before. Usually the binding rituals were solely to bind the energies of the witch and behemoth, and it is never done again. He’s confused but he agrees, seemingly happy that you enjoyed the ritual with him.

And that’s what you drown yourself in—doing divination readings for others and San as well, and taking his cock whenever you felt like it. It was too good to pass on. Not to mention he was so good at aftercare—making sure you were alright after every session. Undoubtedly, San, himself, was really starting to enjoy having sex with you as well.

You couldn’t think of wanting anything else.