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intrepidacious · 4 months ago

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make up for lost time

summary: Months after your last encounter, you meet James again … and this time, that precious tension between you snaps.

pairing: james norrington x f!reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: smut (18+ only!!), bathing, body worship, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), light breeding kink 🤭 underlying angst; infidelity with permission? it makes sense in context; i was ovulating while writing this and it shows; please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: you all can blame thank @wildlivelychild for this one because i hadn't planned on writing another part for when reality sets back in but here we are 😌🫶🏼 this can 100% be read as a standalone since it's mostly just me being feral. bon appétit.

masterlist | read on ao3

Reasonable happiness, you thought, wasn't made for people like you.

You, who preferred life in extremes, ecstatic highs and heartbreaking lows, your days filled with so much emotion you were left breathless. Instead, you got what society preferred for women of your station: the mediocre hum of social obligations and daily errands.

That made you lucky, of course. Not many were afforded a comfortable life. You knew countless young women who would’ve killed to fill your shoes, and you were content, really, just … secretly, foolishly, you’d allowed yourself to hope for more.

You tried not to think of James.

Even with your husband talking about the Caribbean, you tried not to listen, not to let your mind wander to the eve of your engagement banquet. Not when the talk of London society had exploded with a certain Commodore’s disgraceful resignation from His Majesty’s Navy only shortly afterwards.

You’d tried to reach out to him when it happened, but you never knew whether your worried letters still found him at his family’s adress. No response ever made it back to you. Like everyone, you supposed him lost at sea, helpless to find out anything more lest you draw any unwanted attention to yourself.

As it was, you felt like you were living in limbo; waiting for something you knew would never happen.

Until that night.

Months had passed at that point, and you’d all but given up any hope that your husband would show renewed interest in producing an heir. Your nights were spent alone, huddled up under several blankets against the shocking London cold. It was getting harder to fall asleep like this; your memories kept chasing sleep away from you.

It was because of this that you didn’t know at first if you were already dreaming when you heard the knock on your door.

After hearing your yawn of assent, your maid slipped into the room, lighting the candle on your bedside table with the one she was carrying.

"There’s a man downstairs," she whispered. "Mr Dalton found him in front of the gates, carrying this."

You blinked sleepily at the note in front of you, your husband’s wax seal closing the paper. He’d been away on his political campaign for a little over a week now, and you hadn’t heard from him since his departure. This message, delivered by a mysterious man at such a late hour, was more than unusual.

You sat up in bed and cracked the letter open, blinking at the words as they sent a wave of shock through you.

Take care of him, darling. T.H.

There was no longer any doubt in your mind that you were awake, after all, because your heart was beating so fast you could feel it in your toes, because a couple of things became clear to you instantly. One, you knew without a shadow of a doubt who the man downstairs was. Two, that despite his frequent absences, your husband was a lot more attentive than even you would’ve given him credit for. And three, that with only a few incongruous words, he’d given you a blessing you would’ve never dared ask for.

All this you realised at an instance because of one single, undeniable truth: Your husband had never once called you darling.

"Go to bed, Mina," you said, slipping into your dressing gown. "I’ll see to this."

The floor was cold underneath your bare feet as you slipped out of the room, almost in a trance. You weren’t certain whether to hurry down or to take a moment to compose yourself, your thoughts impatient and loud and alive.

You felt like you were breathing for the first time in months.

Still, there was a second where you believed there’d been a mistake, after all, because you barely recognised the man in your entryhall. His hair was wild, his clothes rugged and dirty, like he’d not changed them in weeks.

You’d know his eyes anywhere, though. They watched you carefully as you descended the stairs, a tether leading you straight towards him.

They always had.

"James," you whispered, and he lowered his head at the sound of your voice.

"Milady," he said. Nothing else.

He kept his back straight, but he held his arms stiffly at his sides, a shadow of the confident man you once knew. A million questions demanded to tumble out of your mouth; what had happened to him, where had he gone, was it true what they said, what did they do to him?

Instead, you took a step closer. "You must be exhausted," you said, keeping your voice soft; he deserved as much.

James didn’t reply, but when you reached for his hand, he let you, following you upstairs.

It was too late to ring for hot water, but your tub was still filled. He stared at it blankly, not comprehending.

"Do you need anything?" you asked.

The door was closed behind you. You’d never, you realised, been entirely alone in a room with any man but your husband, let alone led him to your private quarters. Still, you couldn’t find it in you to feel anything but right about what was happening.

James stared at you for a long while, as if trying to decipher your actions. "… Why?" he finally said.

There were a thousand reasons that you could give him, a lot of them completely innocent. But you weren’t in the habit of lying to James Norrington, and so you settled on the most honest one.

His fingers were still curled around yours, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and so you lifted his hand to your lips and pressed a kiss to his palm. Slow, lingering. A poor expression of everything you’d never been allowed to say.

"You know why."

His eyes were dark when you stepped in front of him, but he made no attempt to move. Gently, your hand shaking, you reached for his jacket, easing the dirt-crusted sleeves off his shoulders. It pooled at his feet.

You hovered over the buttons of his waistcoat, glanced at his face again to find him frowning, but not objecting as you undid them one by one. Next, his belt fell to the floor with a heavy thud. You eased his shirt out of his pants and he helped you in pulling it over his head. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out.

There were scards and bruises scattered across his torso, remnants of battles and fights that the good people of society would tell grand tales about. In his skin, they were real, though, not just mere stories but lived memory.

How did one not linger on that?

You knelt to undo his boots, one by one, and when you looked up at him, James was staring at the ceiling, his chest falling heavily. His hands flexed at his sides in a way that seemed to you near painful.

You went to tug at his pants and he caught your wrist with a hiss. "Darling …"

There it was again, that little endearment that had always been his. Heat bloomed in your chest at the sound of it.

"It’s all right," you whispered. "We’re safe."

"Your husband—"

"Knows."

The word shifted the air between you. Apprehension still clung to him like a second skin, but something in it cracked.

You were still on your knees, and he didn’t let go of you for a long while before he caught himself.

"I should …"

You nodded as he turned around to swiftly strip off his pants and underthings and step into the tub. He shuddered at the cold, his his back muscles rippling.

Any other time, it might have let you feel powerful, seeing him naked mere inches away from you while you were still in your night clothes. Not this, though.

There was an intimacy to this moment that transcended such notions.

The water splashed as James washed himself with quick, methodical movements. Even if you’d tried, you probably wouldn’t have been able to look away. Finally, he dunked his head in, staying under the surface for such a long time you started to grow worried. But then he emerged again, his hair sticking to his forehead, and you reached out to push it aside. To your surprise, he leaned into your touch.

You reached for a wash cloth and dipped it into the water, using it to gently scrub leftover grime off his beautiful face. His eyes held yours the entire time, unsure and yet burning.

Oh, those eyes. You still wanted to drown in them.

Almost without noticing, you leaned in closer, watching him for any sign of hesitation. There was none left; only that sweet, unspoken thing that had been cautiously granted room at last.

No words were exchanged. This had been such a long time coming.

Your lips brushed his, barely a kiss, barely a touch at all. You moved back to look at him and found his eyes had fluttered shut.

You gently bumped your nose against his before kissing him again. Slowly, these delicate touches deepened, until James groaned softly into your mouth and you let him in.

He kissed you like it was a dance, carefully orchestrated without a push too close, meeting you halfway. Your hands moved to his chest, and you could feel his erratic heartbeat under your fingertips. The sensation was enough to make you dizzy, but you were in no rush to speed things along. You’d waited your entire life for this.

Gradually, his kisses grew more intense, his tongue pushing deeper, wanting, craving. He wrapped an arm around you to pull you closer, swallowing the gasp you let out when water seeped through your shift. Desire pooled in your belly, growing until it sank into your very bones, every thought consumed by James.

You caught his lip between your teeth and there was a loud splash of water as he surged.

"We should," he started, trailing off again, his eyes dilated as he took you in, your chest soaking wet and practically transparent. He shivered and you smiled, reaching for a towel.

"Let’s get you warmed up, Commodore."

Mina must’ve noticed the cold in your rooms, because there was a gentle fire crackling in your bedroom. The curtains were drawn and you locked the door behind you, leaning against it as you looked at James. He took it all in with a tick in his jaw.

"What is it?" you asked.

"I just …" He shook his head, gesturing towards the room. "You deserve this. Whenever I think about what a fool I’ve been, I remind myself that you would’ve lost everything as soon as I did. And I’m glad." He stepped up to you. "Even if we’d never met again, I would’ve been glad because I couldn’t have lived with myself if I’d brought you ruin."

Your heart was pounding wildly and you reached out to cup his jaw, gently tracing the rough beard.

"Oh, James," you said quietly. "There’s no ruin in loving you."

When he kissed you again, there was a new hunger to it, an unleashed sense of wanting. His hand came up to protect your head as it fell back against the door, the other helping you to untangle your dressing gown, undo the fastenings of your chemise. His fingertips traced every inch of your skin as it was revealed to him, reverently, like he was mapping out the shape of you by touch alone.

Soon, his lips trailed down your neck, your collarbone. You gasped when they latched onto one of your nipples, gently sucking while his hand cupped your other breast, teasing the little bud until you trembled.

Lower and lower, until finally, he was the one on his knees blinking up at you, his eyes dark and questioning.

You threaded your fingers into his hair and pulled him in.

A broken moan left your lips when his tongue swept across your sex, like he was sampling your taste. Your legs widened to grant him better access and he moved even closer, trailing open-mouthed kisses along your folds, your mound, teasing your entrance. His beard rubbed deliciously against the most delicate parts of you, his attentions so close to where you needed them most.

This was torture.

"Please," you whispered, and he looked up at you, your slick glistening on his chin. There was a dazed look to him, like he was witnessing something beyond his comprehension.

"Show me," he urged, and you dipped one finger inside yourself and then rubbed it over your clitoris, quick circles that made you shudder with delight. When you looked at James again, his eyes were fixated on your every movement.

Without hesitation, he took your finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue across it like he couldn’t get enough of your taste. It released from his mouth with a gentle pop, and for a moment you couldn’t help but trace his swollen lips.

When he moved in again this time, he immediately found your clit, carefully flicking it with his tongue before sucking it between his lips. You gasped and he repeated the motion, applying just a little more pressure. You felt his fingers play at your entrance, probing softly before slipping inside. Your hips jerked against his face and he groaned, the sound a low vibration against your cunt that made your head spin.

In no time at all, he’d learned the sounds of you, expertly licking and rubbing until it all became too much. You slapped a hand across your mouth to stifle a breathless whine as you came, legs shaking, your release soaking him.

You trembled as you clenched around his fingers, the sensation too much and not enough at the same time. When the pleasure subsided, he was still languidly lapping at your cunt, his hand rubbing soothing circles against your thigh.

You tugged on his hair until he gazed up at you through half-hooded eyes, his cheeks hot and pink, his breaths heavy. You stumbled against him, lips crashing. The taste of yourself on his tongue made you moan.

You weren’t sure how you made it to the bed. You only knew the weight of him on top of you, your back arching into the mattress as his cock was trapped between your bodies, hot and leaking.

"James," you sighed and his hips stuttered against yours like he hadn’t expected to hear his name from your lips. "I need you."

He stilled coming up on one elbow to look at you, really look at you; maybe for the first time tonight, or ever. You felt yourself grow flustered under his earnest attention, squirming underneath the weight of him.

"Are you certain, darling?"

Four words that warmed you even more than his intense gaze.

"I want you more than anything else, James Norrington."

He groaned as he kissed you again, blindly adjusting your positions. He rubbed against your entrance and you wanted to cry with need.

"Look at me," he said.

You did, desperately, and he pushed inside you.

Your eyes wanted to roll back but you kept them on his face. There was so much emotion displayed on it; admiration, want, disbelief, awe. You’d never been looked at like this. You felt so full.

Again, he rocked into you, his pace picking up as you warmed up to the feel of him. Your mouths met again, open, breathless. One of his hands cupped your cheek, gently carressing it.

"God, you’re perfect," he murmured against your lips. "I don’t think I can—"

Your ankles locked around his back and you both groaned as he sank even deeper into you at the new angle. Each of his thrusts rubbed against your clit in the most delicious way.

"Inside," you panted. "I want you inside."

What a polite way of saying that you were going to die if you didn’t feel James Norrington spill into you. It was unlikely that anything would result of your encounter but you were suddenly desperate to try fate.

"Can we …?"

You would never find out if there was a second part to that question or whether he was simply asking for permission, because you clenched around him and he lost his thought with a broken groan. He thrust into you a couple more times before he came, swearing and praising you, good, so good, oh shit, please, so god-damn beautiful, my beautiful girl.

You were so close to the brink just from witnessing him come undone above you.

Finally, his praises slowed, as did his movements, and he pulled out of you with a last moan of pleasure. You whined at the loss of him, already mourning your orgasm.

James sat back on his knees, enthralled by the sight of his seed trickling out of you. He pushed it back inside with his fingers and you thought you would lose your mind. He kept fucking into you with his fingers, your slick mixing with his cum. You’d never felt so sensitive in your life, every new touch filling you with fire. You were flailing until you felt his other hand on your stomach, holding you down.

"Gorgeous," you heard, and then his tongue flicked over your clit again, torture in a different way.

This time, you came with a loud cry, his hand the only tethering you to the bed, to reality.

He collapsed next to you, gathering you in his arms, kissing your face, his beard tickling you until you smiled.

"You know, I really don’t recall the last time I’ve seen you quite this satisfied," he said, and you laughed.

For a few precious moments, the world was perfect.

Then, you remembered that there was more to it than just the two of you.

"How long do we get?" you whispered, listening to his heartbeat.

James pressed another kiss to your forehead. "There’s a ship to take me back across the Atlantic."

You tightened your hold on him. "Do you have to take it?"

"According to Thomas, it’s that or the Tower."

"I’ll come with you."

His thumb kept rubbing circles into your skin. "No, darling. You won’t."

And despite how much you wanted to protest, something inside you knew that he was probably right. You’d only make him more of a traitor in the eyes of good British society.

"How long?" you said again.

"Three days."

"Three days …" Not a lot when you wanted lifetimes. Eons. But you weren’t going to waste them wishing for a different ending when he was right there with you. "I suppose we should make the most of that."

He looked at you, like nobody else ever had, and then he smiled.

as you can tell by the existence of this piece, leaving comments on the things you enjoy can really pay off 😌 either way thank you for reading!! for more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications. yo ho ho my loves 🫶🏼

#james norrington x reader #james norrington fic #james norrington x you #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington oneshot #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potc fanfic #make up for lost time

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lesbiankimdahyun · 8 months ago

Note

G!p Karina hosting a Halloween costume party and choosing you as the winner for best dressed/costume. The prize being that you get to sleep with her.

thank you i loved writing this i hope u enjoy! A03 link is here

FIRST PRIZE: A Halloween Special

4.4K words

[GP!Karina x F!Reader]

CW: GP, alcohol, brief weed mention

Guest appearances: MAMAMOO’s Moonbyul and Solar

Your job had been cool about you working fully remotely during the height of the pandemic, but now after two years, they finally asked you to relocate. Your boss was able to compensate you for the move to D.C., which helped, but coming from San Francisco, the East coast culture shock was brutal. Starting over in a new city was intimidating, but at least you had your work bestie Karina to hang out with now that the two of you lived in the same city.

Having only seen and interacted with her through Zoom on your laptop about (mostly) work-related things, you were a little nervous that the friendship would fade or ruin your working relationship, but over the summer, you found it had the opposite effect. The more you saw of Karina’s authentic offline self, the more comfortable you felt with her, and being able to make Karina laugh felt like winning the lottery. You were absolutely harboring a crush on her, but you kept hoping maybe it would go away in time, too afraid to let her know about your feelings.

But months later when she invited you to a huge Halloween bash she was hosting, you knew your crush on her wasn’t going away any time soon. Her massive apartment, which she shared with her roommate, a girl named Winter you’d met a couple times, was decorated from the floor to the ceiling for the occasion. Perfectly placed cobwebs, a plethora of real, carved jack-o-lanterns lined the mantle of the living room’s fireplace, and the staircase that led up to their bedrooms had tiny, fake candles on each step, adding a warm glow. Karina had used plenty of LED lights too, leaving sections of the apartment cast in eerie purple and red light. Despite the free flowing alcohol, available weed and other Halloween goodies supplied for the party, it was Karina herself that had your rapt attention.

“You made it!” she said when you arrived, pulling you in for a hug. Her costume was decadent and extravagant, but not so over the top that it limited her range of motion. She’d chosen to go as Glinda the Good Witch. “I like Elphaba better,” she admitted, “but I didn’t want to commit to green skin.” Instead, she’d committed to a Swarovski-jeweled crown, a short, perfectly pink ruffle dress, complete with embroidery work near the bust and tiered tulle to add volume to the skirt. She had a silver, jewel-covered scepter that matched her crown, and wore extra blush to accent all of the pink details. On anyone else, it would’ve looked very cute, but Karina’s lethal beauty and aloof personality made the overall look devastatingly stunning instead.

When she pulled away from you, she eyed you and your costume with interest. “Talk about treasure,” she said. “Should I call you Jack or Jackie Sparrow?”

You felt yourself blush a bit. “Whatever you like,” you said. Karina smirked in response, taking another moment to look at the pieces you’d put together for your Pirates of the Caribbean-inspired outfit. You’d gone to great lengths to gender-bend your take on Jack Sparrow just the way you wanted, and based on Karina’s reaction, it seemed to be paying off. For your look, you’d combined a brown, satin corset top with bronze buckles, a black chiffon tiered waterfall maxi skirt, a black frill tie blouse with flared sleeves, a black lace necklace, brown knee length boots that matched your corset, a few long pearl necklaces to go with the lace necklace, gold hoop earrings, gold rings, and a brown faux leather pirate hat with a single feather on one side.

Karina suddenly reached forward, brushing her hand along your thigh. “What’s this?” she asked curiously. “A black lace garter? Wow, Y/N, you really pull out all the stops, don’t you?” You let out a shy laugh in response. Karina took your hand then. “Come on,” she said, leading you through the crowd. She pulled you into the kitchen, where Winter was busy grabbing more alcohol.

“Win-ter,” Karina sing-songed, “Look who's going to enter my costume contest!” Her roommate turned around and the two of you took a moment to take in each other’s costumes.

“No way,” you said, admiring her black, white and pink futuristic superhero look. “Uravity? From My Hero Academia?” Winter beamed. “ Finally , I’m recognized,” she said, coming over to give you a light hug, careful to avoid bonking you with her headpiece as she hugged you. “Everyone keeps thinking I’m some sort of Barbie Buzz Lightyear,” she said with a quick pout and eye roll. “But wow, look at you!” She took your hand, and you spun for her to show off all sides of your costume. She and Karina exchanged a brief look, and then Winter nodded. “So you're in the contest, huh? I bet you'll win” she said.

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” you said, “But I don’t know even know if I actually want t--”

Karina cut you off. “Trust me,” she said, placing a hand on your shoulder. Her glittery, pink nails stood out against the brown and black colors of your costume. “You want to be in this. My Halloween costume contests always come with prizes, even if you don't win! ”

“Really?” you asked. “Well what does the winner get then?”

Karina grinned. “Y/N, I can’t just tell you what the winner gets,” she said. “Where’s the fun in that? Why not play to win and find out for yourself,” she said. The way she said it was sassy, almost flirtatious. Wait. There's no way Karina would be flirting with me, you thought.

“Hmm…” you said, pretending to mull it over while moving toward the kitchen sink, where the drink supplies were. You grabbed a black plastic cup and looked around for ice, but Karina came over beside you, interrupting your search. “Let me,” she said, gently plucking your cup out of your hands while Winter handed her a bottle of deep purple Empress gin. The gin’s purple color turned pinkish when she added a splash of lime and tonic water to the gin, but it remained largely purple even after ice was added too, letting you know the drink had way more alcohol than mixer in it. You went to take a sip, but Karina stopped you. “Wait,” she said, reaching for a small, plastic packet and ripping it open.

“What's that?” you asked, tipping your cup away.

“Relax,” Karina said, showing you a bit of the light, powdery substance in her palm. She dipped a finger in it and put it up to her lips, licking the substance off. “Edible glitter,” she explained. “See?” She dipped her finger back into the glitter and then held it up near your mouth.

“Try it,” she said, and you found yourself obeying and opening your mouth for her, tongue slightly out. Karina lightly pressed the pad of her finger to your tongue, and a wave of heat rolled over you. If the edible glitter had any taste at all, it was completely overpowered by the salty taste of Karina’s fingertip. Karina’s eyes flicked from your tongue, then up at you. Your cheeks burned at the intimacy.

“So… you'll be in the costume contest, then?” she asked, taking a small step back. You held out your cup for Karina to add some edible glitter to your drink, which she did.

“Oh alright,” you said. “Why not?”

The rest of the party was a blur. Karina insisted on making all of your drinks, leaving you beyond buzzed but feeling extremely sociable. You chatted with a girl dressed as a ‘hot version of Moo Deng’, danced and shouted ‘Yes, chef!’ with a few folks dressed as the cast of The Bear, and drunkenly gushed over a stunning sapphic couple dressed as Statue of Liberty Chappell Roan and Pink Pony Club Chappell Roan. On occasion throughout the night, Karina would steal you away to dance to Rob Zombie or Kim Petras. A few times while you danced, you'd find her suddenly behind you, hand lightly brushing over your waist. Your brain was operating at a hundred miles a minute, but you put it out of your mind so you could focus on meeting a few of Karina and Winter’s other mutual friends: a girl named NingNing who rocked a modern Cruella DeVil costume, and another girl named Giselle who was dressed as a high glam-drag version of HIM from the Powerpuff Girls– sans facial hair.

Just after midnight, Karina gathered everyone for the costume contest in the spacious living room. You joined the other contestants in the center of the room: Statue of Liberty Chappell, hot Moo Deng, and Giselle.

“Before we start,” Karina said, “I should let all of the contestants know that second and third place prizes will be given out here at the party, but first place will need to stick around afterward to claim the grand prize, okay?” The four of you nodded while the rest of the party attendees applauded lightly in anticipation. Fourth place wound up going to ‘hot Moo Deng,’ and Giselle took third.

Karina presented Giselle with a plastic, orange pumpkin bucket intended for trick-or-treating. There was a couple handfuls of candy inside, but in addition to pumpkin-shaped Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and candy corn, Karina and Winter had filled the buckets with mini bottles of alcohol, edibles, and liquid hydration packets. Then, Karina gave Giselle a celebratory strawberry lemon drop shot, which was, of course, perfectly pink to match her Glinda costume. Everyone clinked their plastic cups together, ready to take a sip of their drinks while Giselle had her shot. Her large claw attachments, though, made her unable to take the tiny shot glass out of Karina’s hand. For a supposedly good witch, Karina seemed extra amused by Giselle's struggle. With her other free hand, Karina held Giselle’s face, her thumb on one of Giselle’s cheeks, the rest of her fingers on the other.

“Aw, does our big bad villain need some help?” she asked mockingly. Giselle feigned annoyance and nodded. Karina whispered something in Giselle’s ear then, and then Giselle rolled her eyes for real before opening her mouth. Everyone cheered as Karina knocked the shot back into Giselle’s mouth. Karina laughed, making a show out of having Giselle open her mouth again to prove she’d swallowed it all.

Your hands started to sweat a bit while you and Statue of Liberty Chappell Roan waited to find out who the winner would be. You honestly had no idea which way the costume contest would go. You knew your costume was pretty good overall, but Statue of Liberty Chappell, whose real name was Moonbyul, had really gone all out, even painting herself the same color as the actual Statue of Liberty. To hype up the crowd, Karina took the partygoers’ temperature by standing behind Moonbyul, holding a hand over the girl’s head.

“Who’s feeling sexy Statue of Liberty Chappell Roan?” she asked, and the crowd responded by applauding as Moonbyul posed, holding up her torch triumphantly. When the clapping died down, she moved behind you, and you knew her hand was hovering somewhere above your pirate hat. “What about our sexy Jackie Sparrow?” she asked, and the crowd erupted in louder applause, including a few wolf whistles from somewhere in the back.

Karina grinned at the partygoers. “I thought so too,” she said matter-of-factly. “It looks like we have a consensus, then. Second place goes to Statue of Liberty Chappell Roan!” There was more applause, and Pink Pony Club Chappell, whose real name was Solar, shrieked in excitement for her girlfriend. Winter presented Moonbyul with her own plastic pumpkin bucket full of the same goodies Giselle had received. Another strawberry lemon drop shot was brought out for Moonbyul. But instead of letting Moonbyul take the shot herself, Karina held onto it.

“Since it’s my party, I want to do things my way, tonight” Karina said. “So open up, Chappell,” she said, grinning mischievously. “Forgive me, Solar,” she said, turning back toward Pink Pony Club Chappell Roan for a moment before coaxing Moonbyul’s mouth open so she could pour the shot down Moonbyul’s throat. “Now for those of you who have been to my parties before, you know the second place winner usually also comes with a kiss from me, but girl…” Karina said, “Keep those green Statue of Liberty lips away from me! She’s alllll yours, Solar,” Karina said with a laugh.

A kiss? ! What kind of costume contest between friends was this? Before you could ruminate on it, Karina was beside you, taking your hand and holding it up proudly. “And now give it up for this year’s costume contest winner!” The crowd roared with drunken cheers. You felt Karina’s hand near your thigh again. “Don’t you all just love this garter? I think it’s my favorite part,” she said, her fingers trailing over the black lace detail. Another strawberry lemon drop shot was handed to Karina, and she turned to face you.

“You know the drill by now, don’t you?” she asked playfully. “Open up, Y/N.” The tart tang of lemon, alcohol, and a bit of sweetness from the strawberry burned while it made its way down your throat. She then leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear while she whispered to you. “You’ll get your prize later, okay?”

The party reverted back to the way it was, but not for long. By the time 1:30 AM rolled around, the party was winding down as some partygoers headed out to make appearances at other parties, while others trickled out to hit the clubs before they closed. You collapsed on the couch, making conversation with the last few party stragglers while they gathered their shoes and costume parts, getting ready to leave.

“Are you gonna be okay t’get home?” You looked up to see Giselle standing above you, swaying lightly, clearly a bit drunk. You sat up and nodded, scooching over so she could sit down and focus the remainder of her energy on ordering an Uber home.

“This was sooo fun,” she said, her words blurring together a bit. She pulled off her costume’s red claw attachments so she could use her hands normally again. Then she turned to you. “Hey, we should go– er, hang out sometime,” she said. You almost missed what she said entirely, distracted by the sleek, black thigh high boots she was wearing and the way her red fishnets popped beneath them. And wait-- is that part latex? How on earth were all of Karina’s close friends this hot, too?

“Hm?” you said, needing a moment to register what she’d just said. “Oh! I’d like that,” you said, smiling. Forgetting about the rideshare app open on her phone, she handed the small rectangle to you. “Put your number in!” she said, bouncing a bit. Her shoulder brushed against yours, sending a tiny, electric jolt through your right arm. You started to feel warm as Giselle rested her chin on your shoulder to watch as you swiped away from the pending rideshare pickup and tapped the phone icon to add your number.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked, sitting back a bit when you were done. You returned her phone to her and nodded. “Karina’s into you,” she blurted. You threw Giselle a quizzical look while your heartbeat raced. “Wh-what?” you asked. “Where’d you get that idea from?”

Giselle just giggled to herself, rummaging through her bag to make sure all of her belongings were still present, then looped her arm through the handle of her Halloween bucket prize. “She does this every year,” she replied. “You’ll see. That glittery scepter of hers isn’t the only disco stick she likes to use.” She stood up, her driver just a minute or two away now. Giselle flipped her long, black hair back and gave you one last look over her shoulder. “She’d fucking kill me if she knew I said this…” she gave you one last onceover. “If you aren’t satisfied with your prize… let me know.”

“Huh?” you said, but Giselle didn’t explain. She was already heading toward the front door, where Karina was hugging NingNing and Winter goodbye. Wait , you thought. Didn’t Winter live here? Why was she leaving? You looked around for any other remaining partygoers, but realized you were about to be alone.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Karina said apologetically, coming over to you after everyone was officially gone. You stood and walked with her into the kitchen. “Did you have fun?” she asked. She poured you a glass of water as you nodded. “Your friends are really nice,” you said, taking the cup from her. “Especially Giselle.” Karina’s eyes flashed with an emotion you couldn’t read, but then she recovered and smiled. “Don’t I know it,” she said. “They’re the best.”

With the music at a much softer level and the purple and red LED lights off, the main floor of the apartment was dim and cozy, with the only remaining sources of light coming from the moonlight streaming in through the bay windows, the jack-o-lanterns on the fireplace mantle and the tiny, battery-powered fake flicker candles that stood on the edge of the steps leading upstairs. Your heart was pounding nervously in your chest now, unsure of what to expect. It was the first time you’d ever been alone with Karina in her apartment– normally Winter was there.

“Hey, where’d Winter go?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual. Karina shrugged a bit, walking back into the living room. “Oh,” she said, glancing back to make sure you followed her out. “She and NingNing decided to hit the club for a bit. I’m sure she’ll be back in a while,” she said. Anxiety quelled in your stomach. Something told you Winter would not be coming back anytime soon.

Karina instructed you to sit back down on the couch. “Are you ready for your prize?” she asked, grinning, and you nodded a little. “You’re not going to like, have a man in a bloody clown costume jump out at me or anything are you?” you asked. Karina laughed. “Y/N! You're so funny right now. Are you nervous ?” she asked teasingly.

“N-no, no,” you said. Of course Karina wouldn’t scare you, you thought. She was more into treats than tricks. Right? Before you could think it through, you found yourself adding, “If it’s anything like Moonbyul’s, I’m sure I’ll like it.”

“Oh?” Karina asked, taking off her crown and shaking out her hair. “Why’s that?”

You bit your tongue lightly as you watched her fingers run through her perfectly sleek, shiny hair. You absolutely could not say anything about her prizes coming with the promise of a kiss. Fuck . “Uh…” you lost your train of thought. “The…”

Karina smirked a little, watching your wheels spin as you tried to come up with a response. “I see,” she said, cutting you off. “Y/N,” she continued, and you looked up at her. “Close your eyes and wait for your prize, okay?” You nodded, glancing down before closing your eyes. For a moment, everything was silent and still, and then you felt added weight on the couch. You caught a whiff of Karina’s perfume, letting you know she was beside you now. And then you felt something– no, not something, some one brush against your lips. Karina was kissing you .

Desire spread through your body instantly. Your first instinct was to lean into it, but your head spun, and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or Karina’s dizzying presence. You leaned back for a moment and your eyes fluttered open. Karina’s face was just inches away from yours.

“Is this okay?” she asked you softly, and you nodded. She leaned in and both of your eyes closed again while she kissed you. Her lips were warm and her tongue tasted sweet as it brushed against yours. Before you knew it, she was stripping you of your pirate hat, tossing it aside as she helped you lay down on the couch. Karina hovered above you, pressing herself gently against your corseted abdomen. Your breath hitched a little, making your chest heave as Karina’s hands wandered over your body lightly. Her hair tickled the sides of your face, waterfalling back over her shoulders while the two of you continued to make out. All of your senses were overwhelmed by her– her scent, her taste, and oh god , her touch.

But just a few minutes later, she stopped and sat up. “Are you alright?” you asked, slightly breathless. She nodded and stood, then helped you up. “How would you feel about getting out of these costumes?” she asked, her head cocked to one side.

Before you knew it, Karina was leading you upstairs. You barely had time to recognize that you were in Karina's room. She turned on a bit of soft light placed strategically underneath her bed so it wouldn’t blind either of you. “Do you want the rest of your prize?” she asked you. You nodded. Karina looked you up and down. “Then turn around,” she said. You did so, confused for a moment, but then you felt a tug on your corset. Karina was undoing your costume. She made quick work of the corset and your blouse, leaving you naked from the waist up. You felt her fingertips trail over your shoulders and down your arms, but just as soon as she was touching you, she stopped. You heard the sound of a zipper from behind you, and started to turn around.

“Ah, ah,” Karina said. “Not yet,” she said. You heard the sound of her dress fall to the floor and your heart skipped a beat in anticipation. Karina’s hands returned to your body as she gently slid down your maxi skirt and helped you out of your boots. Her fingers wandered back toward your neck to remove your pearl necklaces, but she left the black, lace collar. “Leave it,” she said when you brought a hand up to touch it. “I like it.” One of her hands gripped your waist while the other toyed with the black garter around your thigh. “Leave this, too…for now,” she murmured. Once the two of you were fully out of your costumes she pressed herself against you from behind. Her hands wandered over the front of your body and then suddenly, you felt it. You let out a small gasp. Karina was hard.

Giselle’s disco stick comment echoed in your ear for a moment. “Y/N?” Karina’s lips were near your ear, her voice soft. “Are you okay?”

You nodded wordlessly, resisting the urge to grind against her. Your mouth watered a little. “C-can I turn around yet?” you asked. Karina answered by physically turning your body to face her. You leaned in to kiss her immediately while also using one hand to reach forward, gingerly taking her cock in your hand. Karina moaned lightly as she kissed you, her hips jutting forward to meet your touch. The second Karina’s lips separated from yours, you dropped to your knees, curious to see what kind of other pretty sounds you could elicit from her. Karina let out a small huff of amusement, watching fixedly as you took her in your mouth.

“Eager, huh?” Karina murmured. Her teasing was short lived though as you bobbed your head on her length. You grew wet quickly, shifting your position a bit to try and relieve the ache between your thighs. Karina ran her hands through your hair, gathering it at the back of your head in a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your face while you blew her. You quickly realized, though, her true intent was to be able to guide your mouth on her cock, testing to see how much you could handle. When she’d had enough, she pulled you up, only to push you back onto her bed a moment later.

You were immediately hit by a wave of her scent, and then she was on top of you. She backed up a little and then leaned down, using her teeth to slide your garter down your thigh. Soon, it joined the rest of your costume on the floor while moved up and closer to you, kissing her way from your waist to your neck. You shivered a bit at her light touch, your hands weaving through her hair as she went. She used her knees to spread your legs, then pinned one of your wrists down to the bed.

You wanted to hold Karina’s gaze when she finally slid into you, but after the first couple inches, your eyes rolled back and closed. Full . You were absolutely full of Karina. It took her a minute or so to bottom out in you. By the time she did, both of you were breathing heavily. You let out a tiny whimper the moment she started to move, and she consoled you with a few kisses while she slowly, slowly picked up speed.

You felt magnetized to Karina as her body pressed tightly against yours while she fucked into you. Your wetness soon made it easy for her to pump her slick cock into you, and Karina took advantage of that. Her hips slammed into you as she went even faster, burying her head in your neck while your free hand wandered and explored over her body.

You were lost in each other's rhythms and hungry, fervent sounds until suddenly, Karina slowed down significantly. “Shit,” she breathed, “Oh, fuck…” she pulled out quickly. She came on your near-ruined cunt, rope after rope of cum covering you. Watching her cum nearly sent you over the edge, but you knew you’d need more.

The two of you said nothing for a few moments as you caught your breath, trying to wrap your head around the night.

“Karina?” you said.

“Y/N?” she replied in the same tone as you.

“I’m…” you hesitated for a moment, but your aching cunt forced you to continue. “I’m on birth control– I mean, just so you know,” you said, your voice tapering off slightly.

Karina’s eyebrows flew up, but then she grinned. She gently flipped you onto your stomach, rearranging you so your ass was up toward her waist. “Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. “This time,” she said, lining herself up with your slick entrance, “I want you to touch yourself while I fuck you, okay?”

#aespa smut #GP!aespa #GP!Karina #aespa x fem reader #aespa imagines #anonymous #ask #answered

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psformybss · 2 months ago

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INTRODUCING… BONITA! READER

cafecito. leopard print. gold hoops. cherry lip gloss. chunky gold chains. bold eyeliner. soft heart, sharp tongue. candlelit rooms.

bonita!reader… who lives in a sun-warmed apartment above her tia’s beauty salon, where music floats through the walls—sometimes old-school reggaeton, sometimes Celia Cruz. The front door is painted a deep red with a gold handle that always squeaks, and she has a view of the corner bodega where everyone knows her by name.

bonita!reader… who never leaves the house without her gold hoops, her signature cherry lip gloss, and a quick spritz of perfume that smells like jasmine and vanilla—something sweet but impossible to ignore. Her nails are always done, usually red, and she talks with her hands, bracelets clinking with every animated story.

bonita!reader… who dresses like confidence is a lifestyle—tight silhouettes, animal prints, low-rise jeans, halter tops, and body-hugging dresses in bold colors. Her aesthetic blends the fierce flash of the Mob Wife era with Caribbean glam—think: leopard print mixed with gold anklets, vintage Versace shades, and baby tees with rhinestone lettering.

bonita!reader… whose laugh is loud and real, who can flirt and fight in the same breath, and who will cuss you out in Spanish then make you a plate of arroz con pollo five minutes later because her heart’s just that big.

bonita!reader… who’s all about family—she calls her abuela every night, knows how to make her mom’s sofrito recipe from memory, and lights a candle for her ancestors on the little altar by her bed.

bonita!reader… who keeps her space just as dramatic and sensual as she is: velvet pillows, silk sheets, and mood lighting from too many candles. Photos of her cousins are stuck in the mirror with Polaroids from parties and nights out. Her closet is a treasure chest—fur coats, leather boots, stacks of gold chains, and enough designer sunglasses to block out the past.

bonita!reader… who’s strong because she’s had to be, soft because she chooses to be, and unforgettable because she was born to be. She’s loyal, passionate, quick-witted, and doesn’t apologize for taking up space—in a room, in your heart, or in the world.

baile inolvidable

cafecito for the gringo

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satorulovebot · 11 months ago

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CURSED SEAS CHAPTER ONE | the rouge captain

pairing — gojou satoru x fem!reader

genre —heavy angst, pirate au, 18+

summary — all your life you’ve been taught to hate pirates and the sins they have committed against god. you've always strived to be a good citizen upholding the law and avoiding the lawless, but when you meet the infamous captain gojou, known to be dangerous and cunning, you realize that survival in this world often requires sacrifices. sometimes, that sacrifice is your sanity.

tags/warnings. alcohol, religious themes, death, themes of depression, and criminal activity, it's a pretty tame chapter tbh.

notes. 6.2k wc. yeah we’re back baby with another series because i can’t sit still. i saw fan art (image 1) and (image 2) of pirate gojo and said yk what i’m gonna do a pirates of the caribbean inspired series. idk enjoy some brain rot. also know just like my introductory paragraphs my first chapters are ass and fast-paced.

next. HELP WANTED!

general masterlist -> series masterlist

Captain Satoru Gojou.

You had heard whispers of the infamous Captain Gojou for years. His name was spoken with fear in every port town along the coast. Some say he is invincible, that his ship, the Infinity, is the fastest to ever sail the seas. Others claimed he was dangerous, ruthless, and cunning—a man who showed no mercy to those he deemed too weak to survive in his world.

A few years back, a body washed up on the shore of Saltstone Port. The man, who was no older than twenty-five, had his eyes gouged out of his skull, and the number six was carved into the pale skin of his back.

The discovery shocked the quiet little town, but it would not be the last time a mutilated body washed up on the shores of Saltstone Port.

You don’t miss the stagnant air at Saltstone Port. The salty breeze, tinged with the scent of rotting fish and seaweed, clung to everything it touched. It was a place where tales of Captain Gojou’s cruelty were whispered in darkened alleys and over dimly lit tavern tables, the memory of that unfortunate soul with the number six forever haunting the minds of those who dared to speak of it.

As you stood at the edge of the small dock in Elysport, you stared out at the vast ocean. You had always wondered if there was something more beyond the horizon at Saltsone and Elysport. You had only moved to Elysport in the last few years; your father claimed that it was God’s will for you to move after the death of your beloved mother.

You were just ten years old when your mother vanished without a trace, disappearing one night after her shift at the tavern. It was as if the earth had swallowed her whole, leaving no sign of where she had gone or what might have happened. The days that followed were a blur of confusion and fear, the house feeling emptier than ever without her warm presence.

Your father was a broken man during the weeks your mother was missing. Each night, he would fall to his knees, clasping his hands in desperate prayer. His voice, once strong and filled with faith, now trembled as he pleaded with whatever higher power might be listening to bring his beloved wife back to him and his young daughter. He prayed until his voice was hoarse, until tears stained his cheeks until the candles had burned down to their wicks. He sought solace in his faith, but with each passing day, the weight of uncertainty grew heavier, casting a shadow over your home.

He searched tirelessly for answers, combing the streets and questioning anyone who might have seen her. But no matter how hard he looked or how many prayers he whispered, the silence was deafening. Your mother, the heart of your small family, had simply vanished, leaving behind only questions and a growing sense of dread.

Nine agonizing weeks later, your mother’s body was discovered in a small, rotting, long-abandoned boat that had been stranded on the beach for years. You only caught a brief, heart-wrenching glimpse of her before the smallfolk, who had loved her dearly, carried her away. The once beautiful features of her face had decayed beyond recognition, maggots crawling across what little flesh remained.

Your father was utterly broken by the loss. He couldn’t understand why God would allow such cruelty to befall his family. The woman he had vowed to cherish and grow old with was gone, leaving him consumed by grief and bitterness. He became distant, his once-steady faith shaken to its core. He could not understand who would do this to his wife—a kind-hearted tavern worker known for offering a warm meal to anyone in need. The only conclusion that made sense to him was that pirates were to blame. In his mind, they were the only people capable of such barbarism, convinced that only they would commit such a gruesome act against the mother of his child.

Your father has always been a devout Christian. He was a pastor at the local church when you lived in Saltstone Port. His sermons were filled with messages of mercy and compassion. He always insisted that no one was beyond salvation, preaching that even pirates can be redeemed in the eyes of God.

But after your mother’s death, everything changed. His grief and anger warped his perspective, changing his view of life and love. The man who once preached forgiveness now called for the public execution of pirates, believing their crimes deserved the worst punishment hell could offer. An obsession now consumed him—a kind man who once spoke of compassion whose life was forever darkened by the loss of the woman he loved.

You now found yourself in Elysport, a bustling coastal city where the line between law and lawlessness begins to blur. The city's horizon is filled with the estates of wealthy merchants and the Governor’s home, a stark contrast to the docks below. The docks are always crowded, constantly filled with ships from all around the world, their sails billowing in the wind as they unload goods from distant lands. The scent of exotic spices and the sounds of vibrant marketplaces fill the air, mingling with the salty tang of the nearby sea.

In Elysport, you worked as a clerk for a small merchant. Your days were spent tallying registries, managing shipments, and handling mundane trade details. But your nights were different. They were filled with dreams of adventure, of sailing beyond the horizon where the sea meets the sky. Stories of legendary pirates and hidden treasures had always fascinated you, sparking a curiosity you kept hidden behind your daily life. Yet, you never imagined that those stories might come crashing into your own life one day.

One evening, as you were closing up shop, an old man stumbled into the store. His appearance was startling, to say the least—his clothes were tattered, his face weathered, and his hair a tangled mess.

“Hello? Can I help you?” you called out from behind the counter, your voice slightly muffled by the shelves that obstructed you from view.

The man didn’t answer your question. Instead, his gaze darted around the shop, as if he was searching for anything suspicious that could get him in trouble.

“You there!” he rasped, his voice rough. “I need a place to hide this.”

Your curiosity piqued at his words, you stepped out from behind the counter and faced the strange man who had entered just before closing. You assumed he was another last-minute customer, probably looking to buy something or bargain for a better price, knowing how tired workers down by the docks could be at this hour.

You were curious but hesitant as you took the box from him. To your surprise, It was heavy for its size. The surface was adorned with intricate carvings, worn in places over time.

“What is this?” you asked, turning the box over to examine it more closely. The craftsmanship was remarkable, but there was something about it—something almost sinister.

The man watched you closely, his eyes never leaving your face. "It’s a map.” he said, "But not just any map. This map leads to something... powerful. Something that has been lost for centuries, tales of it told through generations of pirates, hidden away from those who would abuse its power."

You looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with curiosity. Why are you giving this to me?" you asked again, your voice trembling.

The man’s expression softened, a look of something almost like pity crossing his face. "Because you’re the one meant to find it," he said simply. "You’re the one who has been chosen."

"Chosen?" you whispered. "Chosen by whom? For what?"

The man smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in his eyes that made you uneasy. "You’ll understand in time," he said. "But know this: you must keep the map safe. Others would do anything to get their hands on it—dangerous people who won’t hesitate to kill for it."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You had always dreamed of sailing the seas looking for adeventure, but this... this… this was something else entirely. This was real, and it was dangerous.

You stared at him blankly, your mind racing as you tried to process the words the strange man had been saying. This was no ordinary treasure map. This was something that was hidden away for a reason.

"Why me?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Why would you trust me with something like this?"

The man’s eyes softened again, and he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Because you’re different," he said quietly. "You have a strength in you that others don’t. You have a heart that won’t be easily swayed by greed or power. And most importantly... you have a destiny to fulfill."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning that you couldn’t fully grasp. You wanted to ask the strange man more, to demand answers to the questions swirling in your mind, but something in the man’s eyes told you that he had already said all he could.

"Keep the map safe," he repeated, his voice firm. "And trust your instincts."

Before you could say anything else, the man turned and walked out the door, disappearing into the darkness of the night. You stood there for a pregnant moment, the map clutched in your hands, your mind reeling from everything that had just happened.

You looked down at the map again, the tips of your fingers trace the markings, as if trying to unlock the secrets they hold. This was it. This was what you had always dreamed of, but it was also something far more dangerous, something that could get you killed.

You knew you couldn’t do this alone. You needed help, and there was only one place you could think of where you might find it.

The merchant’s ball.

It was an event you had never been invited to before—a grand affair where the city’s most powerful and influential figures gathered. But now, with the map, you knew you had to find a way in. You needed to find someone who could help you decipher it, someone who had the knowledge and connections to help you.

As the night of the ball approached, you found yourself growing more and more restless with each passing day. The very idea of the map’s existence gnawed at the back of your mind, its mysteries out of reach. The old man’s warning lingered in your mind, too—a treasure beyond your wildest dreams, but cursed. It was a puzzle you couldn’t solve on your own, and it only fueled your determination to get an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.

But getting an invitation was easier said than done. The ball was exclusive, and the guest list was closely guarded. You knew you couldn’t simply walk in off the street, no matter how determined you were. You needed connections, and though you had some, they were weak connections at best. Your mind raced as you considered your options, running through the names of merchants and traders you had helped over the years. Some owed you favors, but whether those favors were enough to get you into the ball was another matter entirely.

You decided to start with a merchant you knew well—a grizzly man named Marcus, who had been in Elysport for decades. You had helped him with his inventory more than once, making sure that certain shipments went unnoticed by the authorities, and he had always been grateful for your help. You found him in his usual place, a small tavern near the docks.

“Marcus!” you greeted him with a smile as you approached his table.

He looked up, his weathered face breaking into a grin. “Ah, it’s you. Come to save me from my spending again?”

“Not this time,” you replied, taking a seat across from him. “I need a favor.”

His smile faded slightly, and he set down his flagon of ale. “A favor, eh? What kind of favor?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I need an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows raised. “The ball? That’s a big favor, lass. Those invitations are hard to come by.”

“I know,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face. “What’s this about? You’re not one for fancy parties.”

You looked around the tavern, ensuring no one was listening, then leaned in closer. “I’ve come across something… valuable. But I need help deciphering it. The ball is my best chance to find someone who can.”

Marcus’s expression turned serious. “Something valuable, you say? What kind of valuable?”

“I can’t say too much,” you said, lowering your voice. “But it’s big, Marcus. If I can figure it out, it could change everything.”

He was silent for a moment, considering your words. Finally, he nodded. “All right. I can get you in. But you’ll owe me for this, understand?”

You nodded, a smile present on your face. “Thank you, Marcus. I won’t forget it.”

True to his word, Marcus got you an invitation, and the day of the ball soon arrived. You spent hours preparing, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your stomach. The dress you chose was simple yet elegant, a deep blue silk that flowed like water as you moved. You had never worn anything so fine before, and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you barely recognized the woman staring back at you. But tonight wasn’t about appearances—it was about seizing an opportunity, about finding answers to the questions that had been plaguing your mind since that fateful night in the shop.

When the carriage finally arrived to take you to the Governor’s Palace, you felt a mixture of excitement and fear. The city seemed more alive than usual as you made your way through the cobblestone streets, the sounds of laughter and music drifting on the night air. As the palace came into view, its tall columns were bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of lanterns. The grandeur of it all was overwhelming and it was a far cry from the rough and weathered streets of Elysport that you were used to.

You clutched your invitation tight as you approached the entrance, the doorman barely glancing at it before stepping aside to let you pass. The moment you stepped inside, you were encompassed in a world of luxury, unlike anything you had ever seen. The foyer was vast with marble floors gleaming under the light of large crystal chandeliers. Ornate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of grand battles and lavish feasts. Servants moved about with precision, carrying trays of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres, while the guests—dressed in their finest silks and satins—murmuring amongst themselves, their laughter filling the air.

You followed the flow of people into the main ballroom, your heart pounding as you took in the sight before you. The room was massive, with tall, arched windows that offered a view of the moonlit gardens outside. The walls were painted in rich, warm tones, and the floor was a mosaic of polished marble that reflected the golden light of the chandeliers. Musicians played soft melodies in one corner, their music blending in seamlessly with the murmur of conversation.

For a moment, you hesitated, feeling out of place. You had never been in a setting like this, surrounded by wealth and power. But you squared your shoulders, reminding yourself of the reason you were here. You weren’t just a simple clerk from the docks anymore; tonight, you were a woman with a purpose, a secret map, and a mission.

The ballroom was extravagant, to say the least. It made you feel sick that only a select few could enjoy things like this without worrying when their next meal would be or if they would be able to afford basic necessities. But were you any better than these people? After all the only reason you’re here is because you have good connections, just like the people in this room.

As you look to your left, you notice the couples dancing around the floor, their conversations blending in with the soft music. It was all very odd, like a dream you didn't want to wake up from.

“Enjoying the festivities?” A smooth and confident voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see a tall figure standing just a few feet away, his face obscured by a mask similar to yours.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, though you couldn’t quite figure out why. There was something about him, something unsettling in the way he carried himself, in the way he seemed to command the space around him. His mask was pale, almost ghostly, with intricate blue patterns that drew your gaze.

“I suppose,” you replied, keeping your voice light, though the unease you felt was seeping into your words. “These sorts of events are always a bit... overwhelming.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and smooth, “Yes, they can be,” he agreed, taking a step closer, his eyes—bright and unnervingly blue—locked onto yours through the slits in his mask. “But they can also be... enlightening if you know where to look.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, your mind racing as you tried to understand his words. Was he just making conversation, or was there something more to his statement? You couldn’t tell, and that made you more on edge.

“Is that so?” you asked, forcing a smile as you took another sip of your champagne, trying to calm your nerves.

He nodded, his gaze never wavering. “Indeed. You’d be surprised what you can learn at a gathering like this, especially if you keep your eyes and ears open.”

There was something in the tone of his voice, something that made you think he wasn’t just talking about useless gossip or civil conversation, at something deeper, something more dangerous, and it set you on edge.

The two of you sat in silence for a brief moment.

“Do you come to these kinds of events often?” you asked, trying to change the topic of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that this man was anything but safe.

“From time to time,” he said with a shrug. “But tonight is special. Tonight, I’m here for something—someone—quite specific.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt a chill run down your spine. It was the way he said it, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through you like daggers, it was as if he knew exactly who you were and what you were here for.

But, that was impossible, you thought to yourself. You were just a clerk, a regular person caught up in something far beyond your understanding. There was no way he could know about the map, about the treasure. No one knew. No one except—

“Do I know you?” you asked, the question slipping out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said vaguely, his voice a low murmur that sent another shiver down your spine. “Or perhaps you’ll get to know me soon enough.”

Before you could respond, before you could even process his words, the doors to the ballroom burst open with a deafening boom. The music stopped abruptly, the room falling into shocked silence as everyone turned to see what happened.

A group of masked men stormed into the room, their swords drawn as they advanced on the crowd. Panic erupted, the guests screaming and scrambling to get away as the intruders began tearing through the ballroom, overturning tables, smashing glass, and sending the wealthy world of the Elysport elite into chaos.

You barely had time to react before you felt the man’s hand on your arm, pulling you toward the nearest exit. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable beneath the mask as he guided you through the panicked crowd, dodging the chaos that surrounded you.

“Stay close,” he ordered, his voice calm despite the madness. “We’re not done yet.”

And with that, you were swept away into the night, the sound of the destruction behind you fading as the mysterious man led you away from the scene, leaving you to wonder who he really was—and what he wanted with you.

The cool night air hit your face as you were pulled out of the grand ballroom and into the dimly lit streets of Elysport. The contrast between the noise and chaos of the ball and the quiet moonlit streets was jarring. You were still reeling from the events that had unfolded, your heart pounding in your chest, and your mind racing with questions.

The man holding your hand was strong, his grip firm but not painful, leading you through the labyrinth of narrow alleyways that twisted and turned through the dark city like a maze. The commotion of the party faded into the background, replaced by the distant sounds of the sea and the occasional creak of a ship down at the docks. The city was alive with the whispers of its nightlife, but you felt completely alone, alone with this stranger who seemed to know everything about you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slowed his pace and came to a stop in a small and secluded courtyard. The stone walls of the surrounding buildings loom above you and the walls cast deep shadows that obscured your surroundings. The man released your hand, leaving you standing in the center of the courtyard.

As you took a moment to catch your breath, thoughts reeled through your mind. Who was this man? What did he want with you? And why had he chosen to rescue you from the ball? You looked around, trying to get a sense of where you were, but the courtyard was unfamiliar, and the darkness made it almost impossible to see anything.

Before you could gather your thoughts, the man stepped forward again, more calculated and more predatory. His movements were fluid as if he were completely at ease in the darkness. He reached up, and with a swift motion, removed the mask that had concealed his face.

You gasped, taking a step back as the light of the moon revealed his features. The man standing before you was impossibly handsome, his striking blue eyes piercing through the shadows with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. His white hair, which had been partially hidden beneath the mask, now fell loosely around his face, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. But it was the look in his eyes that truly unsettled you—as if he could see right through you.

"You're a difficult person to track down," he said, his voice smooth and confident, with a hint of amusement.

You took another step back, your mind racing. "Who are you?" you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady.

He tilted his head slightly, a small, almost playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Who I am isn't important," he replied his tone light, almost amused. "What matters is what I know."

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You felt like a cornered animal, trapped with no way out. "W-what do you want from me?" you stuttered, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

His smile widened slightly, but his eyes remained cold and calculating. "You know what I want," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have something that belongs to me."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your thoughts immediately jumped to the map. How did he know about that? The old man had warned you that it was cursed, that it would bring you nothing but trouble, but you didn't think it would be anything like this.

The man's smile faded, and his expression grew more serious. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Don't play games with me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "I know you have the map. And I know you've been looking into it."

"I don't have it," you insisted. "I got rid of it."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing you. "Is that so?" he took a step forward, "Because from what I've heard, you've been asking around about certain landmarks. Places that just so happen to match the ones on the map."

Your heart sank. He knew too much. There was no point in lying anymore. But you couldn't just hand the map over to him—not without knowing who he was and what he planned to do with it.

"Why do you want it?" you asked, trying to buy yourself some time. "What's so important about this treasure?"

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "That's none of your concern," he said finally, his tone dismissive. "All you need to know is that it's mine. And I intend to get it back."

"And if I don't give it to you?" you challenged.

He smiled again, but this time there was no warmth in it. "Then I'll take it from you," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions. There was something about him—something dangerous and unpredictable—that made you believe he wasn't bluffing. But at the same time, you couldn't just give up the map. Not without knowing what it was all about, and what it could lead to.

"I need more time," you said finally, hoping to stall him. "Let me think about it."

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he nodded. "Very well," he said. "But don't take too long. I'm not a patient man."

He turned to leave, but then paused mid-way, glancing back at you over his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing," he added, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Don't try to run. I'll find you. No matter where you go."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone in the courtyard. You stood there for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Who was this man? How did he know so much about you? And what was he planning to do with the map?

You knew you had to be careful. Whatever this treasure was, it was clearly important enough for someone like him to go to great lengths to get it. But at the same time, you couldn't just hand it over without knowing more. You had to find out what this was about—before it was too late.

You quickly made your way back to your small house, your mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. You weren't going to let anyone intimidate you—not even someone as dangerous as him.

As you reached your door, you paused, glancing around nervously. The man's warning echoed in your mind—he would find you, no matter where you went. But you couldn't let that stop you. You had to find out the truth, no matter the cost.

With a deep breath, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The map was hidden in a small, secret compartment in the floorboards—a place you thought no one would think to look. You retrieved it, carefully unfolding the worn parchment and studying the markings on it.

You had to figure out what this map was leading to, and why it was so important. As you stared at the map, a new plan began to form in your mind. You would find someone new who could help you decipher it—someone who knew the legends of the sea better than anyone else. And then, you would find the treasure before anyone else could.

But even as you made your plans, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. The man's piercing blue eyes seemed to haunt your every thought, his warning lingering in the back of your mind.

You knew you were playing a dangerous game. But you had no choice.

And so, with the map clutched tightly in your hands, you made your decision. You would find the treasure—no matter what it took.

The city was bustling when you stepped out onto the streets, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone road. You knew where you needed to go—there was a tavern on the edge of the city, where sailors and pirates would gather to share stories. It was a risky move, venturing into such a place, but you were running out of options.

As you made your way through the streets, you kept an eye out for any sign of the man from the night before. You couldn’t afford to be caught off guard again.

Finally, you reached the tavern, it was a weathered building with a creaky old sign hanging above the door. The scent of salt and ale greeted you as you stepped inside, the dimly lit interior filled with the low hum of conversation. You spotted a few rough-looking sailors at the bar, their eyes looking toward you with curiosity as you made your way to a secluded corner.

You ordered a drink as you tried to blend in, waiting for the right moment. You needed to be careful about who you approached—trust was a rare occurrence in a place like this.

As the minutes ticked by, you watched the patrons of the tavern by studying their movements and listening to parts of their conversations. You were looking for someone who seemed knowledgeable, someone who might have heard of the map or the treasure it led to.

Finally, your patience was rewarded. An old sailor whose face had been weathered by years at sea, sat down at the table next to yours. He wore a tattered grey coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He seemed like the kind of man who had seen his fair share of the world, the kind of man who might know more than he let on.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, and leaned toward him. "Excuse me," you said quietly, your voice steady. "I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something."

The sailor turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Depends on what you’re asking.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal to the man before you. But you had to take a chance. "I’m looking for information about a map," choosing your words with care. "A map that leads to a treasure. But I don’t know where to start."

The sailor’s eyes flickered with a hint of interest, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "A treasure map, you say?" he repeated, leaning back in his chair. "Well, now, that’s a dangerous thing to be looking for, especially in a place like this."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "I know it’s risky," you admitted. "But I need to find out what this map leads to. And I was hoping you might know something about it."

The sailor stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving yours. "There’s a lot of talk about treasures and maps in these parts," he said slowly. "Most of it’s just nonsense, stories made up to entertain drunk sailors. But every now and then, you hear about something real—something worth risking your life for."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If you’ve got a map, and it’s real, you’d better be careful who you share it with. There are people out there who would do anything to get their hands on a treasure like that."

You swallowed hard with the weight of his words sinking in. "I understand," you said quietly. "That’s why I’m being careful. But I need to know more about what I’m dealing with."

The sailor nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "Alright," he said finally. "I’ll tell you what I know. But it won’t come cheap."

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small pouch of coins. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had. "Will this be enough?" you asked, hoping it would suffice.

The sailor took the pouch, weighing it in his hand before nodding in approval. "It’ll do," he said, tucking the pouch into his coat. "Now, let me see that map of yours."

You hesitated for a moment before reaching into your bag and pulling out the map. You unfolded it carefully, laying it out on the table between you. The sailor leaned over, his eyes scanning the markings and symbols.

After a few moments, he let out a low whistle. "Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "This is the real deal."

You leaned forward eagerly, your heart racing. "What does it say?"

The sailor glanced up at you, his expression serious. "This map," he said slowly, "leads to a place that’s been whispered about for generations. A place where a great pirate captain supposedly buried his most valuable treasures. But it’s not just gold and jewels we’re talking about. There are stories of powerful artifacts."

"But it’s not going to be easy," the sailor continued. "The path to that treasure is full of danger. There are traps, curses, and worse things that guard it. And if you’re not careful, you’ll end up just like the others who’ve tried and failed to find it."

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words. "What do you mean, 'the others'?" your voice barely above a whisper.

The sailor’s expression darkened. "There have been others before you," he said quietly. "People who thought they could outsmart the dangers and claim the treasure for themselves. But none of them ever made it back. Their ships were found wrecked, their crews dead or missing. And those who survived were driven mad by what they found."

You swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "So, what do I do?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

The sailor looked at you for a long moment before speaking. "If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to prepare yourself," he said. "Find a crew you can trust, people who know how to handle themselves in a fight. And most importantly, keep that map close. There are others who would kill to get their hands on it."

You nodded, "I’ll do whatever it takes."

The sailor nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that," he said. "Just be careful. This world is full of dangers, and not all of them are as obvious as a pirate’s blade."

With that, he stood up, tipping his hat to you before turning to leave. "Good luck, lass," he said over his shoulder. "You’re going to need it."

You watched him go, your mind racing with everything he had told you. The treasure was real, and it was more dangerous than you could have ever imagined. But you were determined to find it, no matter what it took.

You took the map and carefully folded it and tucked it back into your bag. With a deep breath, you stood up and left the tavern, your heart pounding in your chest. You had a lot of work to do, and there was no time to waste.

As you walked back through the city streets, the weight of the map seemed heavier than ever. You knew you were about to embark on a journey that would change your life forever, one that would test your courage, your resolve, and your very soul.

But despite the fear that lingered in the back of your mind, there was also a sense of excitement—a thrill at the thought of uncovering something that had been hidden away for centuries that not even the best pirates could find.

You had the map and you had the determination, now all you needed was the right people. And once you had that, there would be nothing stopping you from finding the treasure and claiming it for yourself.

The night was still young as you made your way back to your small home. You were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, to risk everything for the chance to uncover the secrets of the map.

And as you reached your door, the words of the mysterious man from the ball echoed in your mind: "I’ll find you, no matter where you go."

You knew he was out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike. But you weren’t afraid. You were ready for whatever came next.

series masterlist -> chapter 2

#series: cursed seas #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x y/n #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo

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covenofvenus · 4 months ago

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🌸The History of the Magic of Spring🌸

Greetings fellow seekers of the arcane,

As the spring season is now upon us, let's delve into all of the mystical tapestries of spring, a season that has long been revered in occult and metaphysical traditions for its potent symbolism, transformative energy, and profound connection to the cycles of life, death, and rebirth.

As we explore its numerological significance, associated deities, spirits, colors, and herbs, we shall also draw upon the wisdom of the great Renaissance magician, Cornelius Agrippa, to illuminate its deeper occult meanings.

The Occult and Metaphysical Significance of Spring

Spring is the season of renewal, a time when the Earth awakens from its winter slumber and bursts forth with life. In the grand wheel of the year, spring represents the Maiden aspect of the Triple Goddess—youth, innocence, and the promise of new beginnings. It is a time of balance, as the vernal equinox marks the moment when day and night are of equal length, symbolizing harmony between light and dark, masculine and feminine, and the seen and unseen worlds.

Metaphysically, spring is associated with the element of Air, the realm of thought, renewal, change, communication, innovation and inspiration. It is a time to plant seeds—not only in the soil but also in our minds and spirits. The energy of spring is one of expansion, creativity, and the breaking of old patterns to make way for new growth. This season invites us to align ourselves with the rhythms of nature, to shed the stagnation of winter, and to embrace the vitality of life force energy that flows abundantly during this time.

Numerology of Spring

In numerology, spring resonates with the number 3, a sacred number that embodies creativity, manifestation, and the divine trinity. The number 3 is often associated with the Maiden, Mother, and Crone; the past, present, and future; and the mind, body, and spirit. It is a number of synthesis and harmony, reflecting the balance of the equinox and the triadic nature of spring’s energy: growth, renewal, and transformation.

The number 3 also corresponds to the planet Jupiter, which governs expansion, abundance, and optimism—qualities that are deeply aligned with the spirit of spring. In magical workings, the energy of the number 3 can be harnessed to amplify intentions related to creativity, fertility, and new beginnings.

🌸Western, Eastern, South American & Indigenous Deities and Spirits of Spring

Spring is ruled by a pantheon of deities and spirits who embody its themes of rebirth, fertility, and renewal globally & culturally.

African American Traditions and Spring

African American spiritual practices, which often blend African ancestral traditions with Christian, Indigenous, and Caribbean influences, hold spring as a time of profound spiritual significance. The season’s themes of rebirth, resilience, and liberation resonate deeply within African American culture, reflecting both the struggles and triumphs of the community. In the tradition of Hoodoo, a African American folk magic system rooted in African spirituality, spring is a powerful time for rituals of renewal, cleansing, and growth. Hoodoo practitioners often perform spring cleaning rituals, both physically and spiritually, to clear away stagnant energy and invite prosperity.

This might involve sweeping the home with herbs like hyssop or basil, or using Florida Water (a traditional cologne with purifying properties) to cleanse the aura. Spring is also a time for planting roots—both literal and metaphorical. In Hoodoo, roots like John the Conqueror and High John the Conqueror are used in spells for strength, courage, and overcoming obstacles. These roots, planted in the fertile soil of spring, symbolize the resilience and determination of the African American spirit.

Spring is also a time for honoring ancestors in African American traditions. Practices such as setting up ancestor altars with fresh flowers, candles, and offerings of food or drink are common. The ancestors are seen as guides and protectors, and their wisdom is sought during this time of renewal. The blooming of flowers and the return of life to the land are reminders of the enduring presence of those who came before us. For many African Americans, gardening is also not just a practical activity but a spiritual one. The act of planting seeds, tending to the soil, and watching life emerge is a powerful metaphor for resilience and growth. This connection to the Earth is deeply rooted in African traditions, where the land is seen as sacred and imbued with spiritual energy. Spring gardening rituals often include prayers or blessings for the seeds, asking for a bountiful harvest and the blessings of the Earth.

African Traditions and Spring

In many African traditions, spring is celebrated as a time of renewal, fertility, and the return of life-giving rains. The Yoruba people of West Africa, for example, sometimes honor Oshun, the goddess of rivers, love, and fertility, who is often associated with the vitality and beauty of spring. Oshun’s energy is invoked during rituals to bring abundance, healing, and joy. Her sacred colors are yellow and gold, and offerings of honey, oranges, and sunflowers are made to her.

In ancient Egyptian cosmology, spring also aligns with the festival of Sham el-Nessim, which marks the beginning of the spring season and is celebrated with feasts, music, and offerings to the gods. The goddess Isis, who embodies the power of resurrection and renewal, is often honored during this time. Her story of resurrecting Osiris mirrors the themes of death and rebirth that are central to spring.

Indigenous Traditions and Spring

For many Indigenous peoples of the Americas, spring is a time of profound spiritual significance, marked by ceremonies that honor the Earth’s awakening. The Hopi people of the southwestern United States celebrate the Bean Planting Ceremony, a ritual that aligns with the spring equinox and involves prayers for fertility, rain, and a bountiful harvest. The Green Corn Ceremony, practiced by many Indigenous nations, is another springtime ritual that celebrates renewal and purification.

In the Andean traditions of South America, spring is associated with Pachamama, the Earth Mother, who is revered as the source of all life. Offerings of flowers, seeds, and coca leaves are made to her during rituals to ensure her blessings of fertility and abundance. The Inti Raymi, or Festival of the Sun, celebrated by the Inca, marks the winter solstice in the Southern Hemisphere (which aligns with the spring equinox in the Northern Hemisphere) and honors the return of the sun’s life-giving energy.

Latin/Hispanic/South American Traditions and Spring

In Latin America, spring is often celebrated with vibrant festivals that blend Indigenous, African, and Catholic traditions. In Mexico, the arrival of spring is marked by the Festival of Xipe Totec, the Aztec god of renewal and agriculture. Xipe Totec, whose name means “Our Lord the Flayed One,” is associated with the shedding of old skin and the emergence of new life. His rituals involve offerings of seeds and flowers, as well as dances and processions.

In Brazil, the Festival of Iemanjá, the Yoruba-derived goddess of the sea and fertility, is celebrated in February, aligning with the energy of spring in the Southern Hemisphere. Offerings of flowers, mirrors, and perfumes are cast into the ocean to honor her and to seek her blessings of abundance and protection.

Asian Traditions and Spring

In many Asian cultures, spring is celebrated as a time of renewal and the blossoming of life. In China, the Spring Festival, or Lunar New Year, marks the beginning of the agricultural year and is a time for family reunions, feasts, and rituals to honor ancestors and deities. The goddess Nuwa, who is credited with creating humanity and repairing the heavens, is sometimes invoked during this time for her creative and restorative powers.

In Japan, the arrival of spring is celebrated with Hanami, the viewing of cherry blossoms, which symbolize the fleeting beauty of life and the impermanence of all things. The Shinto goddess Konohanasakuya-hime, who is associated with flowers and volcanic energy, is honored during this time for her connection to the life force and the cycles of nature.

In India, the festival of Holi marks the arrival of spring and is celebrated with vibrant colors, music, and dance. Holi honors the divine love of Radha and Krishna and the triumph of good over evil, as well as the renewal of social bonds and the joy of life.

Caribbean Traditions and Spring

In the Caribbean, spring is often celebrated with festivals that blend African, Indigenous, and European influences. In Trinidad and Tobago, the Carnival season, which culminates in February or March, is a time of exuberant celebration, music, and dance. While Carnival does have some Christian roots, its origins can be traced all the way back to African and it's vibrant energy and themes of liberation and renewal align with the spirit of spring.

In some Afro-Caribbean traditions such as Santería and Vodou, spring can be a time to honor deities associated with fertility, growth, and the life force. Oshun (Santería) and Erzulie (Vodou) are both spirits of love, beauty, and abundance who are sometimes celebrated during this season. Offerings of flowers, sweets, and honey can be made to them to invoke their blessings.

Western Traditions and Spring

Persephone (Greek): The goddess of spring and queen of the underworld, Persephone’s return from the realm of Hades marks the arrival of spring. Her story symbolizes the cyclical nature of life, death, and rebirth.

Eostre/Ostara (Germanic): The namesake of Easter, Eostre is a goddess of dawn, fertility, and the rising sun. She is often depicted with hares and eggs, symbols of fertility and new life.

Flora (Roman): The goddess of flowers and blossoming plants, Flora presides over the beauty and abundance of spring.

Green Man (Celtic): A spirit of nature and vegetation, the Green Man represents the regenerative power of the Earth and the life force that surges through all living things.

Freya (Norse): Though often associated with love and war, Freya also embodies the fertility and vitality of spring.

These deities and spirits remind us of the sacredness of the natural world and the interconnectedness of all life. They invite us to honor the cycles of nature and to celebrate the return of light and warmth.

🌸Colors of Spring

The colors of spring are imbued with magical significance, each carrying its own vibrational energy:

Green: The color of growth, renewal, and the Earth itself. Green is associated with the heart chakra, healing, and abundance.

Yellow: The color of the sun, intellect, and joy. Yellow energizes the mind and inspires creativity.

Pink: The color of love, compassion, and new beginnings. Pink opens the heart to self-love and emotional healing.

Pastels: Soft hues of lavender, mint, and peach carry gentle, nurturing energies that support spiritual growth and inner peace.

These colors can be incorporated into rituals, altars, and clothing to align with the energy of spring and to invoke its blessings.

🌸Herbs of Spring

The herbs of spring are potent allies in magical workings, each carrying the essence of the season’s vitality:

Dandelion: A symbol of resilience and transformation, dandelion is used in spells for wishes, divination, and spiritual growth.

Nettle: A herb of protection and purification, nettle clears stagnant energy and strengthens the body and spirit.

Violet: Associated with love, healing, and intuition, violet is a sacred herb of spring that connects us to the fairy realm.

Lemon Balm: A herb of joy and abundance, lemon balm uplifts the spirit and attracts prosperity.

Elder: A tree of regeneration and protection, elder is sacred to the goddess Freya and is used in rituals of healing and transformation.

These herbs can be used in teas, sachets, or incense to harness the energy of spring and to support magical intentions.

🌸Cornelius Agrippa on the Occult Significance of Spring

Cornelius Agrippa, the renowned Renaissance magician and philosopher, offers profound insights into the occult significance of spring. In his seminal work, Three Books of Occult Philosophy, Agrippa describes spring as a time when the celestial influences of the Sun and Jupiter are at their peak, infusing the Earth with life-giving energy. He associates spring with the eastern direction, the element of Air, and the zodiac signs of Aries and Taurus, which govern new beginnings and material abundance.

Agrippa emphasizes the importance of aligning magical practices with the seasons, noting that spring is an auspicious time for rituals of growth, healing, and manifestation. He also highlights the role of the planets in shaping the energy of the season, particularly the influence of Venus, which governs love, beauty, and fertility, and Mars, which brings vitality and courage.

Agrippa’s teachings remind us that spring is not only a time of external renewal but also an opportunity for inner transformation. By attuning ourselves to the rhythms of nature and the celestial forces at play, we can harness the power of spring to manifest our desires and to deepen our connection to the divine.

🌸🌸 Conclusion 🌸🌸

Spring is a season of profound metaphysical significance, a time when the Earth awakens and the veil between worlds grows thin. Its numerological resonance with the number 3 reflects its themes of creativity, balance, and transformation, while its associated deities, spirits, colors, and herbs offer a rich tapestry of magical correspondences.

Drawing upon the wisdom of Cornelius Agrippa, we see that spring is a time to align ourselves with the celestial forces of renewal and to embrace the boundless potential of new beginnings. Additionally, when we are exploring the traditions of African Americans, Africans, Indigenous peoples, Latin America, Asia, the Caribbean and Western Europe, we gain a richer, more intersectional understanding of all of the spring’s magic.

As we walk this path of the arcane, let us always try to honor the sacred energy of spring, planting seeds of intention and nurturing them with love, wisdom, and gratitude.

For in the cycle of the seasons, we find the eternal dance of life, death, and rebirth—a reminder that we, too, are part of the great cosmic web.

Blessed be, dear seekers. May the magic of spring this year always guide you on your journey.

Lyonessa Hart🌸

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