#Eve is the first witch

[inubaki]

Exchange

It fucking figures this is how he would wind up.

Festering hungar was a feeling Adam had never expected to feel after the abundance he’s known. From the shade of Eden’s doors, the wastes were torturous days full of putrid smoldering daylight and horrid freezes by night. Food was scarce and hardly recognizable from the healthy flourish that he had known before. How all resembled more of hollowed husks of themselves, just as starved of life as he was becoming. Yet still all he scavenged. Enduring the heat and cold over harsh terrain. All for Eve and her unborn child. From what wretched parent it stemmed from Adam cared not, nor did he entertain Eve’s childish whimsies of calling it his. Nor did he label her as wife since the moment of her adultery. But still he fed her. It was all he could think to do. Eventually, his meager findings were not enough for either of them. And the Adam didn’t have to be the genius Lilith had been to see the writing on the wall. Berries, nuts and roots could not sustain them no matter how often cut back on his own share. Another source of food had to be acquired, especially if the baby was to survive.

It was Eve whom made him the spear. Smiling as stupid and as loving as she had been when offering Adam the apple. Reeking of sex while others watched their spreading damnation from afar. It was just another tool in breaking him of his second most sacred of duties. To murder and feast upon the flesh of the same beasts he had once named and cared for. And just like the apple, it fucking figured he would punished for this too.

Because, of fucking course, it had to have come from a lion that brought his end. From his favorite beast’s weight and ferocity that snapped his spine in seconds with only one lucky pounce. Being able to feel and do nothing but watch as it tore through the softness of his skin to spill his guts into the open air. Exposing Adam to how much a human could bleed. He only wished he could laugh.

“Oh my, oh my, oh my. I must confess, I did not expect you this quickly”

A voice, deceivingly deep, yet smooth. A laugh disturbingly familiar, but Adam could not turn to see. Only hear a soft stepping of grass, barely audible over the sound of ripping meat. A sharp blow of a whistle followed as Adam felt a shadow fall over him.

“Not gonna lie… ya don’t look to hot, old buddy! Don’t stand up on my behalf! No need to be formal! We’re friends after all”.

Adam wished the beast ate him faster. Not even able to roll his eyes was pure torture. His ‘so-called friend’ leaned over with a grin. The sharpened fangs taunting him on the familiar face Adam had seen smeared with Lilith’s and Eve’s cum. Lucifer Morningstar now bore the colors to match the flames that engulfed him. Emanating an unnatural heat with the reeking scent of something as dead as Adam felt he should be.

“Not much to say? Ahhh! Don’t be like that. You had to admit it was funny! Lilith wanted nothing to do with you as a man, yet the moment they made a woman replica of yourself she’s ALL over it!” he laughed heartily, the sound staining Adam’s ear even as Lucifer left his line of sight.

The lion began to drag Adam, apparently eager to take what was rest of him to its lair. The first man could hear those lightened footsteps following, Lucifer trailing behind without losing a beat of his worthless chatter. How was he still alive? Adam couldn’t feel it as much as sensed himself being dragged through a field of his own gore. Lucifer even coming within sight as he being picked up a bloody piece and began tossing it ideally between his blackened palms.

“Doesn’t feel the same…” Lucifer said, eyeing the useless organ with a pout. Adam’s mangled heart made a sickening wet sound each time it slapped between hands. Hardly enough to even juggle. “Not like the real thing ya know. Love and hearts. Lilith liked to compare them as a source of feeling. Inspiring love. But I think you and I both know it’s more of the head that compels that”.

As casually as one would picking a flower, Lucifer tossed the heart and reached with hands ‘longer and sharper then Adam remembered, wards him dispute the lion’s continued tugging. And suddenly all in Adam’s vision went shaky before going still under the gurgling wet sound of meat. Followed by the sound of a sharp snap as one would make stepping in a tree branch. “Love has always been in the mind of the beholder ”. Lucifer lifted Adam’s head to level their eyes. And for the first time, Adam could see the full effects of Hell on Heaven’s most damned. “Must be why we can see it in the eyes. And Adam… Yours have always been prettiest.” Lucifer made a play sound as he tapped Adam on the nose. “And that I can not share-“ “So let’s try this again…. How about deal…”

Adam thought of the spear Eve had handed to him and wondered how she had made it.

———

How Eve became the world’s first witch. Naïvely sacrificing Adam in hopes of giving Adam a better life. For Lucifer; all of value can be measured and traded. All for the exception of Adam. Lilith is just going to have to deal with it. And Heaven is going to be have to deal with being awful, neglectful over lookers. Adam is only ever going to have Lucifer’s children as decided by the Angel long ago.

I tried to beta read. But it’s cold and I’m lazy. sorry it sucks but it’s to be expected. ——-

next:

[kiestrokes]

Idol Halloween Costume Tag Game 👻

If you had to dress up as an idol who are you going to be and what iconic of niche fit of there’s are you wearing?

I’m going as: Obsession Era Kai from EXO, green hair and all. But everyone keeps asking if I’m Wolverine 🥹

Non-Obligatory Tagging: @chans-room @mochilatae @still-with-koo @minisugakoobies @minttangerines @bangtanintotheroom @amethystwrytes @andysorbit @btsgotjams27 @kittycat1dsn and anyone else that wants to play! You can say I tagged you 🧡

[libby-for-life]

What about a au about yandere lucifer x yandere lilith x yandere eve x time travel! Adam

Adam goes back in time but it the time after adam is kicked out of Eden with eve

He doesn't want anything to do with eve causing the angels to make magically cain for them

Well, he missed being a dad, so he was forcing all his time and energy towards cain. And because of this, lilith, lucifer, and Eve want to figure out why he is acting so different

(Sorry this took a while! Hope you like it!)

When Adam slowly opened his eyes, a sense of disorientation washed over him. Something felt profoundly wrong. The brightness surrounding him was overwhelming, piercing through the remnants of his slumber. It wasn’t the stark, blinding light he had always associated with Heaven, ethereal and blinding, nor was it the oppressive, dull red glow that he had come to recognize as Hell. No, this was different.

The light enveloping him was warm and golden, a gentle embrace that felt both inviting and strangely nostalgic. It was a sunlight he had only ever encountered in his dreams during those final moments of his earthly life, a light that whispered of life and hope. Adam could feel the soft warmth radiating on his skin, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness he had expected to find in death.

He blinked a few times, allowing his surroundings to come into focus. It was the sun. The realization hit him like a wave crashing against the shore. He was back on Earth—a place he thought he had left behind forever when he took his last breath. Yet here he was, basking in the glow of that brilliant sun, which should not have been possible. Confusion swirled in his mind as he tried to grasp the implications of being alive again, or perhaps in some new existence that defied all notions of life and death.

Adam glanced down and noticed that he was not wearing clothes. That old feeling of shame crept up like it always did whenever he looked at himself naked. He hated how he looked and he had always felt that way since he was given the Forbidden Fruit to eat. His eyes were opened in ways he could barely understand and he was unable to look at himself anymore like he used to.

But the question remained. Where was his clothes? Or better yet, his mask? In a blind panic, he grabbed at his face, feeling the beginnings of a panic attack coming along. No, he hated his face more than he hated his body. The ugly and plain face that everyone he had ever known hated to look at.

Quickly, he scrambled from the grass he was lying on and towards a pond. He looked down and gasped in horror as he saw dark brown eyes look back at him. Not the gold eyes he had grown accustomed to.

It was unlike Lilith's regal face, Eve's radiant body, or Lucifer's ethereal looks. No, Adam was the default human with brown eyes and hair. Like unassuming dirt. Or mud. How can anyone like looking at that?

Adam let out a whimper that he didn't realize was crawling up his throat. What was going on?! Why was he naked?! Why did he look like this?! Why did is seem like—

"Eden...this looks like Eden," Adam muttered. He was so used to his raspy voice, years of neglect and yelling would do that, that he wasn't used to the sound of a soft voice like it was freshly made. Biting his lip to help ground himself he glanced around. It was very clear something was going on and it wasn't some elaborate prank.

"Adam." The voice cut through the air like a blade, harsh and commanding. He recognized it instantly—Sera, the head Seraphim of angels. A shiver ran down his spine as he caught sight of her radiant form materializing before him, celestial light shimmering around her. Her gaze was fiercely piercing, a mixture of authority and urgency that unsettled him.

"Where is your wife?" she demanded, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. Adam's heart raced as he processed her words. Which wife was she referring to? His first, the enigmatic and rebellious Lilith, or his second, the gentle and nurturing Eve? The question tangled in his mind as he struggled to find his voice, leaving him silent and confused.

Before he could gather his thoughts, Sera reached out, her grip tightening around his arm like a vice. With a resolute motion, she began to drag him behind her, the ground feeling unsteady beneath his feet as he stumbled along.

"S-Sera? What’s going on?" he stammered, desperation creeping into his voice. Panic surged within him as the reality of the situation began to sink in, but he was too bewildered to comprehend the magnitude of whatever was unfolding. The way Sera moved, so determined and relentless, made it clear that whatever was happening was far more serious than he could fathom. All he knew was that the very essence of his existence seemed to be shifting, and fear clung to him like a shadow.

She forced him into a clearing and Adam felt himself shut down at what he saw. All three people he had at one point trusted, the people who he thought he loved, who were laughing and having sex together on the ground under the Tree of Knowledge. He had known, at least subconsciously, that Eve had cheated on him but to see it? Right before him? He could feel himself grow numb as their laughter was cut off.

Sera acted without a moment's hesitation as she forcefully shoved Adam aside, her focus shifting entirely to the chaotic scene before her. The urgency in her voice pierced through the air as she demanded answers from Lucifer, her eyes ablaze with a mix of anger and concern. Adam, overwhelmed and scared, instinctively curled into a tight ball on the ground, his heart racing as he tried to block out the noise.

The words exchanged between Sera and Lucifer faded into a distant murmur as tears streamed silently down Adam's cheeks. His fear escalated when Sera suddenly reached down and, with a single, powerful motion, lifted him effortlessly off the ground by one arm. He dangled helplessly in the air, the ground now far beneath him, his stomach twisting in dread.

Sera locked her fierce gaze onto him, her intensity almost palpable. “Did you know what would happen?” she demanded, her voice a mixture of frustration and desperation. “Why did you let Eve out of her sight? She was your responsibility!” Each question felt like a jab, pushing Adam deeper into despair.

As she shook him slightly, Adam’s voice faltered, barely able to escape his lips amidst the choking fear. “I’m sorry!” he cried out, his words tinged with panic and regret. The weight of Sera's disapproval bore down on him, amplifying his sense of helplessness in that moment.

He bit his lip harshly as Eve tried to look at him. "Adam? Can you please look at me?" Adam shook his head, stepping away from her as he clutched his bruised forearm. "No. Stay away from me." He managed to say before running away.

He was thrown back down as she said, "I won't let this go unpunished." Adam could only watch as Lucifer and Lilith were cast to Hell while he and Eve were cast out of Eden. Eve, for eating the apple and Adam because he didn't protect her. He couldn't look Eve in the eyes as he felt himself clothed by Gabriel and simply set loose to populate Earth in the dangerous lands before them.

He would never trust her. Or anyone for that matter. The thought of bringing new life into a world so fraught with betrayal felt pointless. "Screw populating," he muttered under his breath, the words laced with bitterness. He was done with the expectations that hovered over him like dark clouds. If Heaven wanted to impose their will, they were going to have to try a lot harder this time.

Eve attempted to catch up, her feet lightly brushing the ground as she moved, but a single, piercing glare from him brought her to an abrupt halt. “Haven’t you done enough?” he asked sharply, his voice heavy with resentment. The words hung in the air, and she flinched as if struck. Her eyes softened, filled with an ocean of guilt she didn’t yet understand, a turmoil rippling through her freshly forged soul.

She had been made anew, navigating the uncharted territory of emotions that ebbed and flowed within her—a mixture of hope, confusion, and remorse. Yet Adam remained indifferent to her turmoil. He felt none of the complexities that pulsed through her; his heart was a fortress, solid and impenetrable. All he could see was the echoes of the past, the sting of betrayal piercing through his resolve, leaving him adamant in his choice to remain alone.

He left Eve to stew in her thoughts as he ventured deeper into the unknown wilderness, searching for a suitable spot to set up camp. Adam had been walking for about a day, his bare feet crunching against the fallen leaves and twigs that carpeted the forest floor. The vibrant hues of this new world surrounded him—lush greens of towering trees, the vivid colors of wildflowers, and the distant calls of unfamiliar birds echoed through the air as he took in the landscape with a contemplative expression.

His mind was focused on two priorities: finding a reliable source of water and a safe shelter from the elements. After what felt like hours of wandering, he finally stumbled upon a sparkling stream, its crystal-clear waters flowing over smooth stones, creating a melodic whisper that seemed to beckon him closer. Pleased, Adam followed the stream upstream, which gently wound its way through the thick vegetation, revealing an opening to a cave just beyond a cluster of ferns. He nodded approvingly to himself; this secluded spot felt like a sanctuary away from the dangers lurking in this strange world.

With a weary sigh of relief, Adam set to work, gathering dry twigs, leaves, and small branches to build a campfire. He meticulously arranged everything, knowing that the warmth and light of the fire would not only provide a means to boil water but also keep potential threats at bay. He wasn’t trusting anything in this unfamiliar environment, where the rustle of leaves and shadows dancing between trees hinted at unseen dangers. The crackling of the fire, once ignited, filled the air with a sense of temporary safety, as he prepared to make himself at home, if only for the night.

Adam meticulously crafted a crude spear out of a sturdy branch, the fresh scent of wood filling the air as he whittled it down with a sharp stone. His stomach grumbled with anticipation; the hope of catching fish drove him forward. With quiet determination, he crept up to the babbling stream, moving stealthily over the smooth, moss-covered rocks, careful not to disturb the delicate balance of nature around him.

He focused on the gentle ripples of the water, his heart racing with excitement as he settled into the perfect spot. Adam grinned, feeling the adrenaline rush through him, as he drew back his arm and launched the spear with practiced precision. It sailed through the air, a blur of movement, before plunging into the water with a satisfying splash.

After a moment of suspense, he pulled the spear from the stream, a silvery fish wriggling on the end, glimmering in the fading light. A sense of triumph washed over him as he admired his catch, the thrill of the hunt igniting a fire within. With a few more successful throws, he envisioned a hearty dinner, seasoned with herbs from the nearby forest, and the warmth of a fire crackling as the sun dipped below the horizon.

XxX

Sera and the other angels stood gathered in solemn silence, their radiant wings folding in a heavy shroud as they observed Adam from their celestial vantage point. Their expressions were marred by concern and frustration. Months had slipped by—endless periods where Adam existed in isolation, his heart untouched by companionship since the departure of Eve. Not a single child of wonder had ventured into the world, nor had any effort been made to even try. Instead, he had sunk deeper into the comfort of his own solitude, seemingly content with his own company.

"This absolutely cannot continue," Sera thought, a flicker of determination igniting within her. She was ready to descend from the heavens herself, to guide him toward the path of rediscovery, to spark the ember of connection that lay dormant within him. Yet just as she began to form a plan, Michael, the wise archangel, interjected with a calm clarity that silenced the gathering. "Forcing him did us no good before," he stated, his voice resonating with authority and compassion. His gaze swept across the group, assessing their eager but anxious expressions. "But perhaps we might offer him... another way?"

Sera and the other angels leaned in, their interest piqued, hanging onto Michael's every word, hopeful that his insight might finally break the cycle of Adam's loneliness.

"We have just a bit more of the divine power bestowed upon us by our Heavenly Father before He departed to attend to other matters in the vast expanse of the Universe," Michael stated, his voice heavy with the weight of responsibility.

Sera tilted her head, a look of curiosity crossing her face. "Are you suggesting a new wife for Adam?" she asked, puzzled by the necessity of such a thing. Michael simply shook his head, a thoughtful expression settling on his features.

"No, not a wife... What if we brought forth a child? A child who could inspire Adam to understand his purpose and fulfill his destiny." The other angels, their golden wings shimmering softly in the ethereal light of their surroundings, nodded in agreement, their expressions reflecting a mix of hope and anticipation at this profound idea.

They gathered in a sacred space, where the air shimmered with an ethereal glow as they discussed their grand plan. Drawing upon the last remnants of the divine power bestowed upon them, they poured their energies into creating a small child. This child, they envisioned, would be an embodiment of the perfect union, as their Father had described—a being who might have been born naturally into the world.

As their efforts coalesced, a figure began to take shape before them—a child of exquisite beauty. His hair was dark brown, verging on black, and framed a cherubic face. What captured the angels' attention most, however, were the child’s deep, cerulean blue eyes, the most luminous they had ever witnessed, sparkling with innocence and curiosity.

Once they breathed life into him, the baby let out a series of soft, melodic babbles, his small hands grasping at the air as if reaching for the very light that surrounded them. He looked up at the assembly of angels, his gaze filled with wonder, and broke into a toothless smile that radiated pure joy. The response among the angels was mixed; some stared in awe, their hearts swelling with love, while others recoiled in discomfort, unsure of the implications of their creation.

Sera managed a strained smile that betrayed her inner turmoil. “Well,” she said, her voice steady despite the weight of the moment. “Let’s leave him somewhere Adam will surely find him.”

XxX

Adam sighed deeply as he tended to his vibrant little garden, a patch of vibrant greens and bursts of color nestled comfortably outside his cave. The assortment of flowers—daisies, violets, and sunflowers—swayed gently in the warm breeze, their sweet scents mingling in the air. He paused for a moment, marveling at the beauty surrounding him, and wondered if it was because he had never tasted the Fruit of Knowledge that he still retained some trace of the divine powers he once held in the lush paradise of Eden.

As he picked a delicate bouquet to brighten the stone walls of his cave, flowers bore no gender and who could possibly judge him in this secluded sanctuary, he smiled a bit. Just as he selected the final blossom, a sound pierced through the tranquility. At first, it was so soft that he thought he might have misheard it, like a whisper carried by the wind. But then he heard it again—a heart-wrenching wail of a baby in distress, echoing through the peaceful landscape and pulling at the threads of his heart.

Adam dropped the vibrant bouquet of wildflowers he had been carefully holding, the petals scattering across the forest floor as he darted towards the unexpected sound. His feet stumbled over the uneven ground, branches scratching against his arms as he pushed through the tangled underbrush. Finally, he burst into a sunlit clearing, where his eyes fell upon a striking sight—a baby, no older than a few months, was perched atop a smooth, moss-covered rock.

Adam's heart raced as he processed the scene. The infant was wailing at the top of his lungs, his tiny face scrunched up in sheer distress, cheeks flushed like ripe strawberries. With each cry, the small body shook, and Adam couldn’t help but feel a surge of empathy wash over him. Drawing closer, he knelt down gently, the cool earth beneath him grounding the surreal moment.

As the baby caught sight of Adam, his loud cries faltered, replaced by a series of loud sniffles. The child blinked his large cerulean blue eyes, so vivid against the backdrop of the lush green surrounding them. In that instant, Adam felt a mix of wonder and concern; where could this little one have possibly come from? "Oh... where did you come from, little one?" he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he took in the sight of the fragile creature before him, feeling a rush of protectiveness welling up inside.

The baby simply cried out, reaching for him in his distress. Adam immediately scooped the naked baby up, gently shushing him as he rocked the baby against his chest. The poor thing sniffled but snuggled closer to him and Adam couldn't help but smile...maybe...he didn't have to be alone.

Asam wasn't stupid though. He knew this was Heaven's doing but to blame a child for this would be cruel. He would be just like the ones he hated. He would be no better than Heaven.

"Come, Ceder....would you like to see what I made for dinner?"

XxX

Eve layed on the ground as she prayed to Lucifer and Lilith. She slit her wrists, anything she could think of, to get their attention. She even held the corpse of an animal she had found. A pure white lamb. "Please...my beloveds. Come to me." She begged and smiled when she heard twin laughter. It didn't matter to her that it sounded a bit twisted. The wind picked up as she smiled and she didn't even need to look up to know that two figures were standing before her.

"Eve....long time no see."

[apples-and-snakes]

"As soon as I was taken prisoner, Adam, my husband, was left alone. Lonely and in tears, he went to his Lord, and then God created a woman for him from his rib, and called her Eve, and made her the second model. He conceived her to dispel the death of his heart, and to ensure the preservation of the offspring"

— "Le retour de Lilith" by Joumana Haddad

★ She/they

★ Lilith (and sometimes Eve) dedicated side blog

★ Pagan

★ Sapphic

★Lilith worshipper, willing to become a devotee

[kirby-roth]

Shirahama’s masterclass panel at barcelona confirming a bunch of my conjectures

[edenpoise]

EY YO- i just found this song about eve and its original song and its so goooood! lydia the bard is always a pleasure to listen to.

[mechahero]

@certitudinis asked- ☆ teehee send me a ☆ and my muse will give yours a silly nickname (accepting)

"....."

"Knockoff!"

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 1)

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress

You are a profiler for the FBI when you get called to help catch a serial killer in Westview. (Killing Eve/Hannibal AU)

Word count: 4200

Warnings: descriptions of violence, fear

The phone rings at 7:30 in the morning on your day off and you want to throw it against the wall. 

You had been sleeping – having a very good dream, actually – when the harsh ringtone roughly jolts you out of your slumber. 

“Hello?” you answer groggily, rubbing your face with your hand. If it’s a spam call, you think you might lose your mind. 

“Is this Agent Y/L/N?” A gruff voice asks and you shoot up out of bed into the sitting position. 

You clear your throat and try to sound professional. “Um, yes, this is she. Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Director Hayward,” the man says, and your eyes widen. The head of the FBI is calling you. “Have you heard of the town of Westview?” 

Your forehead wrinkles while you rack your brain for anything that sounds familiar. “No, sir, I don’t think so.” 

There’s muffled sounds from the other side of the phone and then you can hear Director Hayward clearly. “It’s a small town in New Jersey. Nothing special, nothing too out of the ordinary.” He pauses like you’re supposed to recognize it, but after a moment of silence he sighs and continues. “About seven months ago, we believe a pair of serial killers moved into town. Bodies started piling up, seemingly no rhyme or reason to who was killed, only that the victims were all female.” 

“Okay,” you say slowly, trying to wrap your head around all this. If it’s been going on for this long, why haven’t you heard about it? “Are we sure they’re connected if there’s no pattern of victim? Usually men have a type when they do this kind of thing; the women usually look like an ex-lover who broke their heart, or their mom.” 

You can practically hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “They were all killed the same way: poison to sedate them and then their hearts were carved out. And there was a purple azalea left in every single one of the victims’ chest cavities. So we’re pretty sure they’re connected.” Sarcasm drips copiously from his tone and you wince. Way to make a good first impression on the director of the FBI. “And it’s not a man. It’s a woman.” 

This makes you perk up with interest. “Oh?” As a profiler for a branch of the FBI in Miami, you’ve handled your fair share of serial killers. It may make you sound insensitive, but you were only really interested in the female ones. Men were so boring and predictable. Women knew how to make it a challenge, and there was always some deep, underlying motive for why they did it. There was nothing you enjoyed more than piecing together that puzzle. 

“They’re calling her The Witch. The poison used on the victims is like nothing we’ve ever seen before, so we think she must be making it herself. But since female serial killers are kind of your thing–” 

You cut him off before you can think twice, thoughts whirling through your head. “How do you know it’s a woman? Cutting out a heart, that takes a lot of strength. Most female serial killers tend to use gentler methods, like poison, so it makes sense that there’s at least one woman involved. Are you sure she isn’t working with someone though? Lavinia Fisher would poison her victims and then her husband would finish the job.” 

“How quickly can you get to Westview?” He asks, completely ignoring your question. 

“Oh, you want me to go there?” 

He scoffs. “Yes, Agent, we want you to go there. I’ve already informed your boss and he’s given his approval. No one has been better at catching the female killers than you, so we really need you on this. You can take the Miami jet as soon as you’re ready, but they want you there as soon as possible.” 

“Will I be working with the Trenton branch?” 

“Just the Westview PD for now. They’ve assured us that they have their best detectives on the case. But if you need backup, let us know and we can send in some more profilers. Whatever it takes to bring this woman to justice.” He hangs up without another word and you grab your to-go suitcase that you keep packed for times like these. You throw in a few extra sets of clothes just in case it takes longer than expected, and then you’re out the door, driving to Headquarters. 

You walk into your boss’s office and knock on the door. The director of the Miami branch, Tony Stark, looks up at you. “Hope you packed some warm clothes,” he says and you chuckle. You definitely did not.

“Hayward said I could take the jet?”

Tony nods. “It’s out back and already fueled up. Good luck, kid. Be careful, okay?” 

You scoff. “Careful? I’m always careful.” He fixes you with a stern look and you acquiesce. “I promise.” 

“I don’t need to remind you what happened last time you worked on a case like this, do I?” 

It hits you like a punch to the gut and you shake your head. “No, sir, you do not.” But you know he’s going to tell you anyway. 

“That woman destroyed you,” he hisses. “You got so focused on finding her that you stopped eating and sleeping. The obsession completely consumed you.” 

“I caught her, didn’t I?” You mutter, knowing full well that isn’t his point. He slams his hands down on his desk and you jump. 

“She almost killed you,” he almost yells and your face twists at the memory. 

The Scarlet Killer terrorized Miami about three years ago before you finally brought her down. At first, she would sneak into houses of families with twins and slit the parents’ throats and kidnap the kids, but the twins would always resist so she would end up killing them too. 

After a while, she stopped caring about the twin aspect and started killing anyone with children. 

You had spent days in the office, pacing and pouring over the evidence board, trying to make sense of it. There was no DNA anywhere, but there was also no sign of forced entry, so you figured that she was invited into the house somehow. The hunt for children made you think she had lost her own, or had some sort of abusive childhood that made her want to protect kids. She was possibly a twin as well, and very amicable if people were having her over willingly. 

It took two months before you figured out the perimeter of her murders. She was making a hexagon shape with the houses of the victims. Hexagons can represent balance, so you figured she felt as if she was balancing out some score with the universe for something that had happened to her. 

And then one fateful night, you realized where her next target was. A family had just moved into a house perfectly on the border of the hex, as people around the office started calling it, and they had twins. 

You spent almost an entire week camped out in front of their house waiting for the Scarlet Killer to strike. You think during that time, you slept a total of ten hours. Hallucinations plagued you and you would doze off and then wake up babbling something about catching her. Agents would bring food by your car and beg you to take a break, but you kept your eyes strained on the house, determined that you wouldn’t let her get away with it again, determined to prove that you were right about where she’d be.

And you were. 

Except the knocking that should’ve been on the front door of the house, the knocking that would inevitably lead to more death, was on your car window. 

You had jolted awake to find a redheaded woman standing there, looking worried. You opened the door and got out to help her when she had pulled a knife out and stabbed you in the stomach. 

Thank god she didn’t go for her usual M.O. of slitting throats. 

You were able to weakly unholster your gun and take a shot at her as she was running away and by the yelp, you knew you had hit her. A consolation prize as your vision faded to black. 

Somehow, you woke up two days later in a hospital room, Director Tony Stark by your bedside. They had caught the killer a block away thanks to the appendix your bullet had ruptured that rendered her unconscious, a woman named Wanda Maximoff, who had lost her twins in a horrible house fire, and made it a mission to try and replace them.

And her knife had missed anything important, and all you had was a nasty scar and the weariness from everyone else whenever there was a new female serial killer to catch. 

“She didn’t kill me though,” you tell Tony, who rolls his eyes. “I’ll be careful. I won’t get too involved this time.”

He slides open a drawer and takes out a file and a business card that he holds out to you. You reach across the desk to grab the two and you scan the card. 

Rio Vidal, Therapist, Westview. With an email and phone number. 

You hold it up and raise an eyebrow. “You want me to see a shrink?” You already completed your mandated fifteen hours of therapy after the Maximoff incident and you weren’t eager to go back. 

“You don’t have to, it’s just so you have an option. In case you feel yourself becoming too ‘involved.’” 

You purse your lips but you slip it into your pocket and tighten your grip on the file. “Guess I’ll see you whenever we catch her.” 

He salutes you and you make your way to the jet out back. 

It’s a three hour flight and you spend your entire time pouring over the case file. You know there’s still some information that you’ll have to get from the Westview PD, like witness statements and exclusive photos that haven’t been released yet, but what you do have is brutal. 

Photos of shriveled up bodies with barely any skin still on their bones, their cheeks hollowed out, like something sucked the life out of them. Not to be sexist, but you can tell why Director Hayward thought it was a woman. 

Although there’s a gaping hole in their chests where a heart used to be, the cuts are neat, precise. And the blood has been completely cleaned up. What should be the bloodiest crime scene you’ve ever seen is void of any fluid, like the killer methodically mopped and bleached and cleansed the scene of everything. But this also means that the victims are dead before the heart is cut out, from the poison. 

The most chilling thing is the singular, perfect flower placed in the cavity of their chest.

You flip through the toxicology reports but can’t really make sense of anything. One report says one chemical was the cause of death, another report says another. The levels of chemicals in the bloodstream are also different from victim to victim. 

It reminds you of Jolly Jane Toppan, who would experiment with different medicines and chemicals to murder patients at hospitals. 

Is the killer a nurse? A chemist? You’re able to figure out why she’s called The Witch, because it’s like she’s brewing up potions of sorts, but you have no idea why she would bother cutting their hearts out if she’s killing them with poison. 

The precision of the blade also means that her hands are steady. Another reason she could be a nurse. 

You flip through the pictures of all the victims – eleven, so far – and the first victim’s cut is just as accurate as the last victim. This woman is either a natural, or this isn’t the first time she’s killed. 

Pulling out your computer, you search the database for any serial killer cases that match this same type of crime, male or female. You’re still not entirely convinced she’s working alone. 

But there’s nothing. No cold cases, no open cases. She has truly shown up out of nowhere. 

You tap your fingers to the tray table, your mind trying to make sense of the details for the rest of the flight. 

When the plane lands, you’re ushered into an uber and taken to the motel where you’ll be staying. Your rental car is already in the parking lot. Even though Westview is a small town, it means a lot that they’re giving you all these accommodations. 

Your room is complete with a kitchenette, a queen sized bed, and a good sized bathroom. You drop the files on the table, throw your suitcase in the bedroom, and grab your work bag before locking the door behind you. 

The rental car is a small sedan that has a strange smell, but it does the job and you drive through the quaint twisting roads to get to the police station. You park up front, take a deep breath, and walk in. 

No one stops you or asks what you’re doing here (no wonder this case hasn’t been solved yet) so you make your way to the back where you find the Chief’s office. 

He’s a skinny man with a mustache, spots of something that looks like mustard on his shirt, talking to a woman with her back to you. All you can tell is that she has long, dark hair that flows down your back.

“Hi, excuse me?” You say, knocking on the glass door. The Chief stops and the woman turns around to face you and you’re momentarily struck by how attractive she is. “I’m Agent Y/N? The, uh, criminal profiler from Miami? The FBI sent me to help with The Witch case.” 

“Oh, shoot, that’s right,” the man says, wiping his hands on his jacket before standing up. “Chief Phil Jones. This is Detective Agatha Harkness–” He motions to the woman standing there who smiles knowingly, raking her eyes up and down your body. “– our best. She’s been working this case day and night.” 

“Any leads so far?” You ask her. 

“Why don’t I show you what we have so far?” She offers and you nod, following her out of the office and trying not to look at her ass. She takes you into  a different room with a bulletin board filled with pictures and string and post-it notes. You squint at it, trying to take everything in, while you hear more people enter the room behind you. 

“So, Miami, what do you think?” A man taunts and a few others snicker at him. You ignore him, you’ve been used to this your entire career. 

You’re still scanning the board when something catches your eye. The witness statements. They don’t corroborate with each other. From the six people that have seen something, they all agree that the killer had dark hair. But some say it was long, others say just past her shoulders. Some think she was taller and lean, others say shorter and just a little more filled out. There’s a detail from two witnesses that gives you pause though: they say the woman had a mask of sorts on the bottom of her face, almost like a skeleton. The other witnesses make no mention of not being able to see the killer’s entire face. 

You tap the papers. “Why don’t the statements line up?” 

“Surely you know how unreliable eyewitness testimony is,” Agatha drawls, and when you turn around, she’s watching you carefully. 

You frown. “I do know, but it seems like there’s two different people here. So either we have a copycat, which would be unlikely due to there being no change in the level of detailedness from murder to murder, or–” You trail off, chewing on your lip. You’re waiting for someone, Agatha maybe, to finish the sentence, or to tell you you’re being crazy. 

“Or?” She prompts like she’s daring you to go on. There’s a look in her eyes, a look you don’t quite recognize. 

You give the men in the room a glance. Will they laugh? “I really think we’re dealing with two killers here. Working together. One poisons the victims, the other cuts out the heart. I thought it was a man and a woman, but it seems like two women. They’re obviously very close to each other, and they’ve got it down to an easy routine.” 

“Why hasn’t anyone seen two women then?” Agatha asks, but you feel like she’s just guiding you to a realization, rather than criticizing your theory. 

You hum, tossing the question around in your head. “Maybe…maybe because they want us to think there’s only one killer? They’ve fooled everyone, even the FBI. Easy to chalk it up to faulty witness statements.” 

“Why wouldn’t they try to look alike then?” Agatha presses, and your brow furrows. It’s a good point. 

The pictures of the mutilated victims on the board stare back at you while you look for anything you could’ve missed. “Are they toying with us? Do they want us confused? The poison, the cut-out heart, the flower left behind, the different descriptions, it’s like this is a game to them. They’re cocky, they feel confident that they can’t get caught. Maybe both of them are narcissists, but definitely are on the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum.” 

“Why do you think they do it?” Agatha says in a hushed voice. You can’t help but notice that she seems excited. 

Is that because she finally might be getting a break in her case? 

“I don’t know,” you admit and she looks disappointed. You spin to face the board again. “There’s no obvious connection or pattern between the victims, so it doesn’t seem like there’s a personal vendetta against them. Nothing stands out about the locations either. It seems like they’re just killing for fun, right now.” 

“That’s pretty dangerous,” she says, and you can feel the front of her body brush against your back. You’ve been so entranced that you didn’t even hear her notice her coming over. “That means anyone could be next.” 

Goosebumps spread over your body at her hot breath on your neck, but her words sober you up. She’s right. You’re not able to rule out potential victims based on how many kids they have or don’t have, like with Wanda, or what they look like or don’t look like. 

“Okay,” you say, nodding your head. “We need to send out a BOLO for two women with dark hair now. Put these descriptions out, tell them to keep an eye out for a skeleton mask? Hopefully we can get some tips and put a stop to this before anyone else gets hurt.” 

“What should we call the other woman?” One of the male officers speaks up and you’re surprised that it’s an actual question. 

Agatha watches you with interest while you think about it. “How about…Lady Death?” You offer and she gives a nod of approval. “Put a BOLO out for Lady Death and The Witch.” 

You make copies of everything that’s on the board and paper clip them together to put in your bag. As you’re packing everything up to go back and leave to the motel (Tony would be proud of you for leaving the station at an acceptable time), Agatha comes over and leans on the table. 

“What do you think their relationship is? Lady Death and The Witch,” she says, amusement lacing her tone when she says their nicknames. 

You shrug. “Sisters, friends, wives? Maybe they’re just two crazy people who met each other and want to kill people.” She chuckles and studies you curiously. 

“You know, we’ve had some other profilers come in, but none of them have been like you. You know your stuff.” 

“Female serial killers are kind of my thing,” you say. “There’s just something about untangling the mystery that’s so much sweeter. Makes me feel…alive. Which I know sounds bad, because so many people have died, and I’m sorry.” 

Agatha looks like she knows exactly what you’re talking about. “No, don’t apologize. It’s exciting, isn’t it? The exhilaration, the moment when you finally get what you want, what you’ve been working toward.” Her voice is low and you nod, leaning in before you can realize what you’re doing. Your gaze drops down to her smirk and then back to her blown-out pupils. “Do you think you’ll be able to find them?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you breathe, and she looks positively delighted. Out of nowhere, the scar on your stomach stings and you grimace. Agatha looks at you, concerned but you brush it off. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You ask, standing up and slinging your bag onto your shoulder. 

“See you then, superstar,” she says with a grin and watches you leave. 

When you get back to the motel, you spread all the pictures and notes out, trying to connect some dots. You scribble down Friends? Sisters? Lovers? on a sticky note and press it to the wall. 

Why do you think they do it? Agatha’s question still haunts you. You don’t want to believe that it’s just for fun, there has to be some meaning, some motive for poisoning and then physically removing hearts. There has to be some significance to the flower left behind. 

But what is it? 

Your stomach grumbles so you decide to take a step back and go pick up food from a restaurant in town. As you’re pulling out of the parking lot to come back to the motel with wings and french fries, you get a call from Tony Stark. You accept it, taking a sip from your cup quickly. 

“Hey, Director,” you say. 

“There she is! How’s it going?” 

You shrug even though he can’t see you. “Not too bad. Just went and got dinner. See, I’m taking care of myself.” 

He laughs like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard. “Glad to hear it. Any new leads in the case?” 

“There’s two women, not one. They’re working together.” There’s silence on his end of the line for a second and you wonder if he heard you. “Did you–?

“Yeah, I got that. Shit, so you think you’re looking for partners? I don’t like this,” he says. 

“I’m okay, I promise. What happened with Wanda won’t happen this time,” you reassure him as you turn back into the motel lot. “I’ll check in with you whenever you want. I’ll go see that shrink. I’ll be careful.” You’re worried that he’ll pull you off the case if he thinks you’re too obsessed. Your hyperfixation tendencies almost cost you your life, and you know Tony doesn’t want that to happen to you again. He’s become somewhat of a father figure to you since you started working there, and it’s touching how much he cares.

He hums in satisfaction. “I expect you to eat three meals a day and get at least five hours of sleep.” Before you can protest, he continues. “And I want you to make an appointment with that therapist. Just get ahead of your spiral, maybe talking about the case with someone removed will help you be more level-headed.” 

“I will,” you vow. “Okay, just got back to the motel, I’ll talk to you later.” He says goodbye and hangs up. When you get out of the car with your food, the hair on the back of your neck stands up and your scar tingles. 

Something feels off. 

You get to your door to find it slightly ajar and you frown. You remember locking it. Maybe room service cleans at night? 

“Hello?” You call, pushing it open. Taking a few cautious steps into the room, you scan from wall to wall looking for anything or anyone.

There’s no one there, nothing seems out of place except for your suitcase that is now on your bed. You tentatively walk over to it and unzip it, jumping back like you’re expecting something to pop out. Inside, you find all the clothes you packed gone, and entirely replaced by a new wardrobe. Pulling them out, you gasp when you find cashmere sweaters and silky blouses and comfortable but professional looking pants. There’s a bottle of perfume with the word “Thanatos” printed in perfect calligraphy and you take a whiff. It smells like flowers and wood at the same time and it makes you think of a forest. 

So someone broke into your motel room just to give you some new clothes and perfume? You rustle through the rest of the suitcase and a piece of paper flutters to the floor. 

Heart pounding, you lean down to pick it up. It’s the same sticky note that you put on your wall before you left to get food. 

Friends? Sisters? Lovers? 

Only now, the word ‘lovers’ is circled, with a small heart drawn. You drop the paper like you’ve been burned and run over to where all your case information is and you feel nauseous. 

Nothing has been touched. Nothing is out of place. 

Except for the single purple azalea resting on the middle of the table. 

They were here. 

[lookadaydreamer]

✨️ agatha harkness ✨️

hey, those are some of agatha fics that i've been reading. i will try to update this list weekly ;)

SFW

• softie (agatha x reader)

• agatha harkness vs salem: the kitenning (agatha x reader) WIP

• sickbed (agatha x reader)

• double trouble (agatha x eve fletcher x reader)

• deserving of love (agatha x reader)

• nightfall comfort (agatha x rio x reader)

• in her arms (agatha x reader)

• a witch's valentine (agatha x reader)

• cup runneth over (agatha x reader)

• unworthy of your light (agatha x reader)

• my love? (agatha x reader)

• whoa, is grandma a ghost? cool! (agatha x reader)

• scare me up (a little bit of love) (agatha x reader)

• both arms cradle you now (agatha x reader)

• you should have told me (agatha x reader)

• everything you deserve (agatha x reader)

NSFW

• the librarian (agatha x reader)

• and the ice, into my eyes, it fell and left me blind (agatha x lilia x reader) WIP

• the witches' forest (agatha x rio x lilia x reader)

• sugar, spice e everything nice (agatha x reader)

• a little wicked (agatha x rio x lilia x reader) WIP

• neighbourly care (agatha x rio x reader) WIP

• to be taught a lesson (agatha x reader)

• a lesson in jealousy (agatha x reader)

• sugar, spice and everything extra (agatha x rio x lilia x jen x alice x reader)

• unfinished business (agatha x lilia)

• what's your fantasy? (agatha x reader)

• the games we play ( agatha x rio x reader)

• i'm a good girl, detective (agnes x reader)

• your witch (agatha x reader)

• tastes like sugar (agnes x reader)

• leather clad (agatha x reader)

• long day, huh? (agatha/agnes x reader)

• swimming into her arms (agatha x reader)

• begging & end (agnes x reader)

• did i tell you how beautiful you are, already? (agatha x reader)

• glitter on the floor (agatha x reader)

• chains for you love (agatha x rio x reader)

• learning to focus (agatha x reader)

• my girl's a brat (agnes x reader)

• going up (agatha x reader)

• a well-deserved break (agnes x reader) WIP

• desperate times, desperate measures (agatha x reader)

• (not so) good girl, bad cop (agnes x reader)

• two professors and a student (agatha x rio x reader) WIP

• sharing is caring (agnes x reader)

• under her knife (agatha x reader)

• a study in forever ( agatha x rio x reader)

• a different kind of workout (agatha x reader)

• woven fates (agatha x rio x reader)

• the girl is mine (agatha x reader)

• birthday girl (agatha x reader)

• all inclusive treatment (agatha x reader) WIP

• the psychology of love (agatha x reader) WIP

• how many secrets can you keep? (agatha x reader)

• ice cream dream (agatha x reader)

• from jealousy, comes a flood (agatha x rio x reader)

• help with the curriculum (agatha x rio x reader)

• the first to break (agatha x rio x reader)

• lilia's leggings (agatha x lilia)

• basement of mysteries (agatha x reader)

• sex therapy (agatha x reader)

• make me a mommy (agatha x reader)

• layover (agatha x reader)

• it worked (agatha x rio x reader) WIP

• working overtime (agatha x rio x reader)

• a few more minutes (agnes x reader)

• mommy's bunny (agatha x reader)

• jealousy, jealousy (agatha x rio x reader)

• sex pollen (agatha x reader)

• only say my name (agnes x reader)

• cooties (agatha x rio x reader) WIP

• billiards! (agatha x reader)

• you'll taste me too (agatha x rio x reader)

• please, i beg (agatha x rio x reader) WIP

[aeralux]

"Spellbound" - Daemon Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen x Witch!Reader

Summary: A witch doesn't cower to anyone... except maybe a dragon. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. Harrenhal seems to be riddled with darkness and mysteries, after all.

Warnings: SMUT (18+); rough sex; oral (f!receiving); fingering; foul language; talks of magick and its use; technically infidelity on Daemon's part; loss of virginity; mention of blood

Words: 8.3k

Notes: No description of the reader, except for dark hair. Takes place in Harrenhal when Daemon is staying there. I tried to be as accurate to Westeros lore as I could, I literally spent hours on their wiki, so I hope it shows through :)

𐔌 . ⋮ aera .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

Harrenhal was a ghastly place. It had the biggest castle of all of Westeros. The castle had five dizzying towers, with equally monstrous curtain walls. The walls were incredibly thick, and its rooms were built on a scale that would be more comfortable for giants than humans—said to be haunted and eerie.

Perfect for sorceresses and sorcerers alike, the city had a coven of Witches who collectively went by the name "Wives of the Gods Eye." The name was an ode to Gods Eye, the largest lake of the Seven Kingdoms, located south of Harrenhal.

In the embrace of warm sunlight, the water of the Gods Eye shimmers in vibrant shades of blue and green, casting a magical glow. Yet, as winter blankets the land, its surface transforms into a steely grey, reminiscent of the coldest metal. Majestic black swans glide gracefully across the water. Just a short distance away, a winding lake road meanders near the storied Harrenhal, leading through a patchwork of rolling hills, sparkling streams, and golden sunlit fields. As one journeys further south, the landscape gives way to dense, shadowy forests, creating a clear contrast.

The lake, with its murky depths, bore a name of divine beings, yet here, amidst the towering pines and shivering mists, there existed no gods. Only monsters lurked in the shadows, and witches wove their secrets beneath the pale moonlight. As for you, you were a bastard of Pinkmaiden, an unwelcome child of a place that should have offered a home. At the young age of six, you were sent to Harrenhal, a castle steeped in blood and betrayal, to serve the lords and ladies of House Strong as one of the laundresses. The ancient stones watched over you with cold indifference, whispering the secrets of many who had come before.

Your raven-black hair flowed like a dark river down your back, framing your face and matching nicely with your unsettling eyes, which shimmered like a stormy sea. These features marked you as different, a reminder of your uncertain heritage. It was not long before the Lady of Harrenhal, with her porcelain skin and sharp gaze, grew wary of your presence. On the eve of your sixteenth birthday, she cast you out, her disdain cutting deeper than any blade.

Alone and bereft, you wandered the wilderness, uncertainty gnawing at your heart. But fortune smiled upon you when the coven of witches found you, their cloaks billowing like dark wings against the whispering wind. They took you in, offering a refuge far removed from the stone walls of Harrenhal. In their hidden glen, where wildflowers crowded beneath the trees, they made you feel cherished for the first time. 

Nowadays, for most, magic is a little-understood force in the world. It has been so long since magic was truly potent that most understanding now exists only in superstition and rituals of questionable validity. But with them, you understood, the doubts of others have no claim.

"You are special," they insisted, words dripping with ancient wisdom. "You possess something otherworldly." Their voices wrapped around you like a warm embrace. For the first time, you believed there was a purpose to your existence—a spark that set you apart from common folk, a thread woven from the fabric of something otherworldly.

Under their solemn guidance, you began to practice the mysterious arts. You learned to mix herbs and roots, crafting potions that glinted with promise and danger. Each incantation you whispered held power, resonating with the essence of the world around you. The witching nights became your solace, and as you delved deeper into their teachings, the women of the coven began to call you their newest daughter—their black swan. In that embrace, you found your wings, soaring above the harsh reality that had sought to bind you.

There, in the shadows of Harrenhal, you discovered your true calling and uncovered your hidden talent: Glamour magic. The few ladies of the coven from Asshai welcomed you into their fold. Asshai, a mysterious and ancient port city nestled in the far southeast of Essos, was unlike any place in Westeros, you gathered from their stories. There, the Ash River wound its way through the land, flowing into the vast expanse of the Jade Sea, where the waters sparkled under the sun like jewels.

As you sat among the flickering candles in their dimly lit chamber, they taught you ancient spells in their native tongue. Words danced on your lips like whispers in the wind, each incantation holding power and mystique. They guided you in prayer, teaching you how to bow your head before the Red God, channelling your intentions through sacred rituals. The air was thick with incense, and the flickering shadows brought to life the stories of ages past, filling your heart with a sense of wonder and purpose.

When the wise ladies of the coven, cloaked in shadows and steeped in ancient lore, deemed you ready to embrace your destiny, they presented you with a striking necklace carved from deep black obsidian. Its surface shimmered like a starless night sky, reflecting the flickering flames of the hearth where your journey began. Though the obsidian was traditionally used to forge weapons of war, the coven believed it resonated with your spirit, a perfect talisman for what lay ahead.  

As you clasped the necklace around your neck, it transformed into your glamor, an enchanting charm that bestowed upon you the power to weave illusions. With it, the magic could shift the perceptions of those around you, allowing you to appear as someone—or something—entirely different. While the shape of the necklace remained unchanged, the world could see whatever you wished it to see, bending reality to your will.  

The true strength of glamors lies in their connection to the wearer. Each illusion from the obsidian was ingrained with a piece of you, making them far more potent than mere tricks of light. As you wore the necklace, you felt it pulse gently against your skin, a current of magic entwining your fate with ancient spells. The coven’s trust in you burned bright like the embers of a dying fire.  

In the realm where shadows danced and whispers echoed, the obsidian necklace became more than just an accessory; it was an extension of your very being, a bridge between the world you knew and the numerous possibilities.

Through the fogs surrounding Harrenhal and its haunting towers, a figure emerged one day that would change the course of history. Daemon Targaryen, the rogue prince, found himself in the ancient fortress where magic lingered in the air, where witches snarled their secrets beneath the pale moonlight, and where even the strongest of men lost their minds to visions that tormented them.

The arrival of the Targaryen prince foreshadowed the beginning of the violent conflict known as the Dance of the Dragons, igniting the flames of war. The first target being Harrenhal. Daemon Targaryen, fierce and determined, led the charge to seize this shadowy castle for his wife, Rhaenyra. In his mind, it would become a stronghold for loyal supporters rising in the Riverlands.

Chaos erupted in the region, the air thick with tension and fear hanging heavily over the lords and common folk. Yet amidst this turmoil, you stood resolute, encouraged by the words of an elder from your coven, whose foresight promised their safety in these troubled times.

With unwavering determination, you journeyed to the godswood of Harrenhal, walking along the clear, winding stream that wandered gently through the emerald shrubberies. The ancient weirwood, with its deformed roots and an angry face carved into its bark, awaited you at the heart of the woods. Its pale leaves trembled softly in the breeze, whispering secrets of generations past.

Above you, birds flitted through the branches, their songs mingling with the rustling leaves, while bats emerged as shadows against the dusky sky, patrolling for their evening meal. A sly cat sneaked near the godswood's stone wall, its eyes glinting like lanterns in the twilight. In this serene moment, you felt a peculiar kinship with the creatures of the wood, convinced that you were not alone.

With reverence, you placed your offering between the twisted roots of the ancient tree, murmuring a quick prayer. You believed in many deities, each an important part of your life, hoping that at least one would consider your call. After all, in these dark times, hope was a precious thing.

Before your journey back, you felt a tug in your heart to pay a quick visit to Alys. The kind healer lady was one of the rare souls who did not cast disdainful glances at you during your time in the castle. Known by others as the “witch queen,” Alys saw past the uncanny aura that surrounded you. She had grown fond of you, despite the brooding darkness that seemed to dance in your eyes, and she understood that your best path was far from these stone walls. You stood out too much among the lords and ladies, a vision amidst the living.

Like a creeping shadow, you slipped through the secret passage, the cool air brushing against your skin as you navigated the hidden corridors. The echoes of your footsteps were muffled by the cold, damp stones, as you moved with practised ease to avoid the lurking guards. You knew better than to provoke their watchful eyes.

Upon entering Alys's chamber, you were greeted by a familiar sight—her collection of potions and drying herbs adorned the shelves, a simple yet charming chaos that spoke of her craft. The room held a soft scent of lavender and something earthy, an aroma that always brought you comfort. You wandered over to the table, intrigued by the array of glass bottles filled with vivid liquids.

But the serenity shattered in an instant, as a cold steel blade pressed against your throat, sending a chill cascading down your spine. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, mingling with the tension in the air. Your heart raced, pounding against your ribcage as panic surged. Who could it be, a figure lurking in the shadows, ready to end your life? The world around you faded into silence, but your senses heightened, honed by years of uncertainty. At that moment, you wondered if your last moments would be in the castle that had been both shelter and prison.

You couldn't see the face of your attacker, but you could feel the presence looming over you, the weight of their body pressing you forward. The blade dug into your skin, drawing a thin line of blood that trickled down your neck. You swallowed hard, fighting back the fear that threatened to overwhelm you.

"Who are you?" a low and menacing voice demanded. And what are you doing here?"

The voice was unfamiliar to you, but there was a certain authority in it that sent a chill down your spine. You knew that whoever this person was, they meant business.

You tried to turn your head, to catch a glimpse of your attacker, but the blade pressed harder against your throat, making you wince in pain. "Please," you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. "I mean no harm."

The figure behind you let out a harsh laugh, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "No harm? You sneak into the healer's chambers like a thief in the night, and you claim to mean no harm?"

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, mingling with the blood on your skin. "I'm not a thief," you said, your voice trembling. "I'm a friend of Alys. I came to see her, to...to say hello."

The blade pressed harder against your throat, making you gasp in pain. "Hello?" the voice repeated, a note of suspicion in it. "Somehow I doubt you, little witch."

You knew then that your attacker was well aware of your true nature, of the magic that coursed through your veins. You thought of the obsidian necklace around your neck, the glamor that disguised you as a simple servant girl. But you knew that even that powerful magic would be no match for the Valyrian steel pressed against your throat.

Your heart pounded against your ribs as you struggled to steady your breathing. The cold steel pressed harder against your throat, sending a jolt of pain through your body. You tried to swallow, but your mouth was dry, and your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

"I swear, it's true," you managed to choke out, your voice trembling with fear. "I didn't know anyone would be here. I thought...I thought Alys would be alone."

You could feel your attacker's warm breath on the back of your neck, their presence looming over you like a dark shadow. You wanted to turn and face them, to see the face of the one who held your life in their hands, but the blade kept you still.

"Please," you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. "Don't hurt me. I'm not here to cause any trouble. I just...I just wanted to see her"

Your hands shook at your sides, the obsidian necklace hidden beneath your simple servant's gown a cold weight against your skin. You knew that your glamor was useless now, that your true nature had been discovered. But you couldn't let them know about the coven, about the power that you possessed.

You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the pain that was sure to come. You had survived so much in your short life and had endured so much hardship and betrayal. But in that moment, faced with the cold steel of a stranger's blade, you felt more vulnerable than ever.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I didn't mean any harm."

You waited for the blade to slice through your skin, for the blood to pour from the wound. But it never came. Instead, you felt the pressure of the blade lessen, the cold steel sliding away from your throat.

Slowly, you turned your head, your eyes widening as you saw the face of the one who had held your life in their hands. It was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, with hair the colour of spun silver and eyes as violet as an iris. He looked like he had stepped straight out of a legend, a true son of Valyria.

Daemon's violet eyes narrowed as he studied the young woman before him, his gaze sharp and piercing. He could see the fear in your eyes, the way your body trembled beneath his touch, but he also sensed something else—a flicker of something dark and dangerous lurking just beneath the surface. He knew a witch when he saw one, and you were no ordinary servant.

"A friend of Alys's, you say?" he growled, his voice low and menacing. "And yet you seem to know your way around this castle better than most. Tell me, little witch, what exactly are you doing here?"

He kept the blade pressed against your throat, not enough to draw blood, but enough to keep you still. He could feel the heat of your skin beneath the cold steel and could see the way your pulse fluttered. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

"I've dealt with your kind before," he whispered, his voice a low rumble. "I know the tricks you play, the illusions you weave. But trust me, little one, you'll find no mercy here."

Daemon's eyes flicked down to the necklace hidden beneath your gown, a flicker of recognition sparking in their depths. He had seen such trinkets before. But this one was different—there was a power to it that even he could sense, a dark and ancient magic that thrummed through the air like a heartbeat.

"What's this?" he demanded, his fingers brushing against the hidden amulet. "Some kind of charm, is it? A trinket to hide your true face from the world?"

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. "I can smell the magic on you, little witch. It clings to your skin like perfume. The same foul odour that clings to the healer."

Daemon's hand slid down from your throat to your collarbone, his fingers tracing the curve of your flesh beneath the thin fabric of your gown. He could feel the heat of your skin beneath his touch, could see the way your body trembled at his proximity.

You took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady the trembling of your hands as you met Daemon's piercing violet gaze. With a steady motion, you reached behind your neck and unclasped the necklace, letting the heavy amulet drop into your palm. There was no point in trying to hide your identity any longer. Your true face coming to light.

Daemon's lips curled into a wicked grin as you revealed the truth of your identity, his eyes glinting with a predatory hunger. He could see the fear in your eyes, but also the aggressiveness, the spark of something wild and untamed that called to him like a siren's song.

"I am a witch, yes," you admitted in a hushed whisper, your heart pounding so hard you feared he could hear it. "But I speak the truth, your grace. I did not know anyone would be here."

You couldn't help but notice his rugged handsomeness as you spoke, the strong lines of his jaw and the way his muscles rippled beneath the thin linen of his tunic. You quickly averted your gaze, not wanting him to see the effect he was having on you.

"I'm from the coven called the Wives of the Gods Eye," you continued, voice barely above a whisper. "We practice the old ways, the magic that was once forbidden. I simply came here seeking some herbs."

You met his eyes once more, defiance mingling with the apprehension. "I meant you no harm, my lord. I swear it on my life."

"A witch of the old ways, are you?" he purred, his hand sliding up from your collarbone to cup your chin, tilting your face towards his. "How very interesting. And here I thought Alys was the only one in this godforsaken castle who dabbled in the dark arts."

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. "You say you seek herbs, little witch, but what say you to a bargain? Your secrets for my protection."

Daemon's hand slid down to your neck, his fingers wrapping around your throat in a loose grip. He could feel your pulse fluttering beneath his touch, could see the way your body trembled at his proximity.

"I could use a witch of your talents in my service," he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

You stepped back, your hand brushing against the dagger beneath your skirts. "I am not some whore," you hissed, your voice low and dangerous. "I do not offer my services to any man, least of all one who would threaten me with a blade."

You met his gaze, your own eyes blazing with defiance. "You would be wise to let me leave at once, your grace. I have no quarrel with you, but I will not be cowed by threats or promises of power."

Turning on your heel, you strode to the shelves, your movements quick and precise. You grabbed a bottle of dried hemlock, the bitter scent filling your nostrils. You turned back to face him, the vial clutched in your hand like a weapon.

"I a daughter of the Gods Eye. I bow to no man, not even a prince of the realm."

You lifted your chin, your dark hair falling in waves around your face. "Now, I will ask you once more. Let me pass, or face the consequences of crossing a witch."

Your hand tightened on the hemlock, the glass cold against your skin. You could feel the rage thrumming through your veins.

"Choose wisely, your grace."

He had dealt with witches before and had watched as they danced and writhed beneath his touch. In pain and pleasure.

But this one was different. This one had a fire in her eyes that couldn't be tamed, a defiance that only fuelled his dark desires.

"A daughter of the Gods Eye, are you?" he growled, his hand tightening around the hilt of his dagger. "How very bold of you, little witch. To stand before a prince of the realm and threaten him with your petty magic."

He took a step forward, his eyes locked on the vial of hemlock clutched in your hand. "You think that trinket will save you? That your gods will protect you from the wrath of a dragon?"

Your breath hitched as Daemon closed the distance between you, his presence overwhelming your senses. The threats rolling off his tongue made your head spin, a dizzying combination of fear and thrill coursing through your veins. You had never met a man who could match the fire in your blood, his very existence seems to challenge you at every turn.

Daemon's lips curled into a cruel smile, his voice dropping to a low, seductive purr. "I have seen the faces of men and women as they begged for mercy, only to be denied. And I have drunk the blood of my enemies, their cries of agony echoing in my ears like a symphony."

"I could hurt you," he growled, his voice a low rumble. "I could crack you like this vial in my hand, leaving you a broken shell of the proud sorceress you once were."

"What do you want?" You gritted out through clenched teeth, hating the way your body reacted to his proximity. Your legs felt weak, your knees threatening to buckle as he loomed over you, his eyes burning into yours.

Daemon's lips curled into a wicked grin at the challenge in your voice, his eyes glinting with a predatory hunger that made your blood run cold. He could see the way your body trembled beneath his gaze, could feel the heat of your skin even from a distance.

Stop it, you scolded yourself. He's just a man. Don't let him get under your skin.

But even as you tried to regain your composure, you could feel the power emanating from him like a physical force. It was intoxicating and dangerous, and you knew that if you weren't careful, you could easily lose yourself in the reckless temptation.

"What do I want?" he purred, his voice low and seductive. "Why, I want what all men want, little witch. Power. Control. To bend others to my will."

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. His fingers lingered on your cheek, his touch searing your skin like a brand.

"But with you, I want something more," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to break you. To shatter that defiant spirit of yours and make you mine."

You could feel the heat of his skin against yours, could smell the musk of his scent, and for a moment, you were tempted to give in to the desire coursing through your veins.

But you were not some simpering maiden to be seduced by a pretty face and a silver tongue.

Daemon's hand slid down to your throat, his fingers wrapping around your neck in a loose grip.

"I could take you now," he growled, his lips brushing against your jawline. "I could pin you to the floor and claim you, make you scream my name until your voice is hoarse."

His other hand slid down your side, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip through the thin fabric of your gown. "But where's the fun in that? No, I'll take my time with you, little witch. I'll make you beg for my touch, for the sweet release only I can give you."

Daemon's eyes locked with yours, his gaze intense and unwavering. "So what will it be, my sweet? Will you submit to me willingly, or will I have to break you first?"

"You think you can break me?" You said, my voice steady and clear. "That you can tame my soul with your pretty words and your empty promises?"

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. "I have faced far worse than you, Daemon Targaryen. I have stared into the abyss and emerged unscathed. Your threats mean nothing to me."

Your hand slid up his chest, your fingers curling around the chain of the dragon necklace that hung from his neck. You could feel the heat of the metal against your skin, looking at him with a scowl on your face.

"But if you truly want to test yourself against me, my lord," you teased, your voice low and enchanting. "If you think you have what it takes to claim me as your own... by all means, try."

Daemon's eyes flashed with a dangerous light at your challenge, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He could feel the heat of your body against his, could smell the scent of your skin, sweet and intoxicating.

"You play a dangerous game, little witch," he purred, his hand tightening around your throat. "To challenge a dragon is to invite its wrath."

His other hand slid down your back, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. He could feel the heat of your body, could sense the power that coursed through your veins.

"But I like a woman with spirit," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "It makes the eventual submission all the sweeter."

Daemon's hand slid up your side, his fingers tracing the curve of your breast through the thin fabric of your gown. He could feel your nipple harden beneath his touch, could see the way your body responded to his ministrations.

"I will have you, little witch," he growled, his voice low and seductive. "I will claim you as my own, body and soul. And when I am done with you, you will beg for more."

You roll your eyes at Daemon's sweet words, his attempts at seduction falling flat. He thinks he can have you with just a few pretty lies? How naive.

"You tempt me, my prince," you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "But I'm no easy conquest. Besides, Alys will be back soon. I bet she won't be happy to see an old man taking advantage of her friend." You smirk cruelly, enjoying the way his eyes narrow at your words.

You try to pull away from him, but his grip on your throat tightens, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"I could seriously hurt you, you know," you snarl, your eyes flashing with a dangerous light. "Don't underestimate me."

Daemon's eyes flashed with a dangerous light at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. In one swift motion, he slammed you against the wall, his body pinning you in place.

"Enough of your games, little witch," he snarled, his hand tightening around your throat. "You think you can toy with me, challenge me, and walk away unscathed?"

His free hand slid down your body, his fingers tearing at the fabric of your gown with a sharp, ripping sound. Buttons scattered across the floor as he bared your skin to his hungry gaze.

Shock and fury flash through you as Daemon rips open your dress, baring your breasts to his hungry gaze. You stare at him, completely still as a statue from utter disbelief, your breath coming in heavy gasps that make your breasts heave with each inhale.

"I will have you," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "I will claim you as my own, body and soul."

Daemon's hand slid down your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your breast, teasing your nipple into a hardened peak. He could feel the heat of your skin, the way your body trembled beneath his touch.

"I can feel your desire, little witch," he purred, his lips brushing against your ear. "Your body betrays you, even as you try to resist. I will make you mine, in every way possible."

"W-wait," you try to say, but your voice comes out breathy and weak as his fingers roll your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. Your eyes roll back and a soft moan escapes your parted lips.

What is happening? How did this get so out of control? You think to yourself, your mind spinning from the onslaught of sensation. You can't believe this is happening, that you are letting a man you barely know take such liberties with your body.

Daemon's lips curled into a wicked grin as he saw the effect his touch was having on you, your body arching into his hand like a cat in heat. He could feel the heat of your skin, the way your body trembled beneath his ministrations.

His hand slid down to your thigh, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your ripped gown to caress the soft skin of your leg. He could feel the heat of your body.

"But first, I think I'll taste you," he growled, his hand sliding higher, higher until his fingers brushed against the slick, heated flesh of your core.

Even as you try to formulate a protest, your body betrays you, arching into his touch, craving more of the delicious pleasure he's igniting within you. No, I can't let this happen. I have to stop him.

But the words never leave your lips, lost in a moan as Daemon's hand slides lower, teasing you in places you have only touched in secret, in the dark of night. You are lost in a haze of sensation, your body responding to his touch despite your mind's protests.

"That's it, little witch," he purred, his fingers pinching and tugging at your nipple. "Give in to the pleasure. Let yourself feel the ecstasy only I can give you."

He could feel the wetness of your arousal, could smell the musky scent of your desire.

"You're already so wet for me," he growled, his fingers brushing against your slick folds. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind tries to deny it."

Daemon's fingers slid higher, teasing your entrance with a feather-light touch. Your walls clenched around his fingers, begging for more.

You couldn't think straight, your mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. It was wrong to crave a man you had just met, especially one who had threatened your life moments ago. But the way his fingers teased your most intimate places sent waves of pleasure through your body.

You had heard the other women of your coven speak of lovemaking, their descriptions painting it as a powerful form of magic. Perhaps you could harness this power, and use it to your advantage as Daemon desired to use you for his own pleasure.

Your hips rolled against his hand, seeking more friction. You bit your lip to stifle the moans that threatened to spill from your lips, determined to maintain some facade of control. But deep down, you knew you were in danger of losing yourself to the sensations he was eliciting.

Daemon's eyes glinted with triumph as he felt your hips roll against his hand, your body betraying your true desires. He could see the conflict in your eyes, the way you bit your lip to stifle your moans, and it only served to fuel his own dark lust.

"You can't hide from me, little witch," he growled, his fingers teasing your slick folds. "I can feel how much you want this, how much you crave my touch."

He pressed two fingers inside you, his thumb circling your clit with a maddening rhythm.

You let out a loud, uncontrollable moan as Daemon's fingers delved deep into your untouched walls, his touch igniting a fire within you. Your juices flowed freely, coating his hand as ecstasy consumed your entire being.

Your body writhed against the cold stone wall, your hips bucking shamelessly against his skilled fingers as he finger-fucked you with reckless abandon. Waves of pleasure crashed over you with each thrust, your breasts heaving as he groped and kneaded them roughly.

"Your body is mine now," Daemon snarled, plunging his fingers deeper into your slick heat. He curled them just right, stroking that sensitive spot within you that made your vision go white. "You'll scream my name until your throat is raw. You'll beg for my cock like a bitch in heat."

His other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he finger-fucked you with ruthless intensity. Your cries of pleasure echoed off the stone walls, mingling with the lewd squelching sounds of his fingers pounding into your drenched cunt.

"That's it, take it," Daemon growled, his lips latching onto a pert nipple. He sucked hard, grazing the bud with his teeth as his fingers ruthlessly stroked your g-spot. "Come for me, little witch. Let me feel you spasm on my fingers."

He could feel your walls fluttering around his digits, your body teetering on the brink of climax. With a final, brutal thrust, he sent you careening over the edge. Your scream of ecstasy filled the room as your pussy clenched down on his fingers, your release dripping down his fingers.

Daemon lapped at your neck, tasting the salt of your sweat. He continued pumping his fingers through your climax, prolonging your pleasure until you were boneless and mewling.

"Good girl," he purred, finally withdrawing his soaked fingers. He brought them to your lips, smearing your essence across them. "Clean them."

Your eyes fluttered open, glazed with post-orgasmic bliss. You hesitated only a moment before parting your lips, allowing him to push his fingers into your mouth. The musky taste of your arousal coated your tongue, and you couldn't help but moan around his digits.

He grins wickedly as you lap at his fingers provocatively, cleaning your essence from them. As his fingers are clean, he lowers himself to the floor, kneeling before you, as to worship you.

You gasp as Daemon sinks to his knees before you, his dark eyes fuming with raw desire. Your heart races, your pulse pounding in your ears as he settles between your trembling thighs. The heat of his breath on your most sensitive flesh sends electric shocks of pleasure straight to your core.

Dazed and off-balance, you instinctively reach out, fisting your hands in his hair for support. Your legs still feel like jelly from your earth-shattering climax moments before.

A bewildered expression crosses your face as he grins up at you, his tongue snaking out to drag along your dripping slit. You cry out, your head slamming back against the cold stone wall as ecstasy crashes over you in relentless waves.

"Mmmm, you taste divine," Daemon purrs, his hot breath fanning over your slick folds. He laps at your essence like a man starved, his tongue delving deep to drink from your most intimate well.

You can only moan brokenly, your head thrashing from side to side as he feasts upon your quivering flesh. His tongue is pure sin, licking and suckling at your clit with unholy skill.

"Good girl," he growls, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. "Ride my face. Grind that pretty cunt against my tongue."

Lost to the all-consuming pleasure, you do as he commands, rolling your hips shamelessly against his mouth. Your thighs clench around his head, trapping him in place as you fuck his face with feral ease.

His lips close around your clit, suckling the sensitive bud as he thrusts two fingers into your dripping channel. They curl just right, stroking that secret spot within you that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Daemon groans, pumping his fingers in and out of your fluttering walls.

You can only whimper in response, your body tensing as another climax builds at the base of your spine. It coils tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

Daemon's tongue delved deep, lapping at your dripping essence with a hunger that bordered on feral. He groaned against your slick flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure racing through your body.

He focused his attention on your clit, the tip of his tongue flicking the sensitive bud with rapid, teasing strokes. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he devoured you like a man starved.

Your fingers tightened in his hair. The public nature of your coupling only served to heighten the forbidden thrill, the rush of being taken in a place where anyone could stumble upon you.

His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. He could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around his probing tongue as he brought you to the brink of climax once more.

With one final, hard suck, he sent you spiralling over the edge. Your scream of ecstasy echoed off the stone walls as your pussy clenched around his tongue, your release gushing into his eager mouth.

Daemon lapped at your spasming cunt, prolonging your pleasure as he drank down every last drop of your sweet nectar. He continued his ministrations until your body went limp, your cries turning to whimpers as the waves of pleasure subsided.

Finally, he pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your juices. He stood, a wicked grin on his face as he towered over your prone form.

"You taste divine, little witch," he purred, his hand sliding up your body to cup your breast. He pinched your nipple, rolling the hardened peak between his fingers. "I could feast on your cunt for hours and never grow tired."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "But I'm not nearly done with you yet..."

Lifting you up with ease, Daemon tosses you onto the creaky bed, your body bouncing on the worn mattress. You cry out in surprise, your heart pounding as you take in his towering form looming over you. His eyes burn with a hunger that gives you chills.

"Daemon, please," you plead, your voice trembling. Your core aches, still throbbing from the intense climaxes he's wrought from your untouched body. You are no experienced harlot, but an untouched maiden, and you fear you are not ready for the sheer size of him.

Daemon's large hands grip your ankles, spreading your legs wide as he settles between your thighs.

Daemon's eyes raked over your trembling form, taking in the sight of you spread out before him like a feast. His cock throbbed with need, straining against the confines of his breeches as he drank in the sight of your swollen, glistening folds.

His hands moved with urgent purpose, his fingers making quick work of the laces of his breeches. He shoved the garment down his legs, kicking it aside with a careless motion. His cock sprang free, the thick shaft jutting out proudly from a nest of dark curls.

He rubbed his cock against your slick entrance, teasing you with the promise of his hard length. You could feel it throbbing against your sensitive flesh, hot and hard and ready to claim you utterly.

"Please," you whimpered, your body trembling with need. "I... I've never... I don't know if I can take you."

A cruel smile twisted Daemon's lips as he heard your plea.

"Please be gentle," you whisper, looking up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes.

Daemon's expression softens for a moment, a flicker of something akin to tenderness crossing his features. His hand reaches up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your trembling bottom lip.

"Shh, little witch," he murmurs, his voice surprisingly mild. "I'll make it good for you. I promise."

With that, he leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delves into your mouth, claiming you, staking his claim over you.

As he kisses you deeply, you feel the head of his cock nudging against your entrance. Slowly, incredibly slowly, he begins to push forward, stretching you open around his thick girth.

A sharp gasp escapes you, breaking the kiss as he breaches your barrier. Pain and pleasure mingle together, your untouched walls struggling to accommodate his size.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groans, his hips grinding against yours. He gives you a moment to adjust, his hands roaming your body possessively. "Such a perfect little cunt, made just for me."

He starts to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in. The rhythm is brutal, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids.

You cried out, your back arching off the bed as pain and pleasure crashed over you in equal measure. He stretched you wide, his thick length filling you in a way you never thought possible. Your walls stretched and clenched around him, your slick arousal easing the way as he claimed you over and over again.

"Fuck!" Daemon snarls, his eyes rolling back at the tight, wet heat of your virgin walls. 

Daemon sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with animalistic hunger. His hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he ruts into your willing body.

"Take it," he growls, his voice strained with pleasure, his hips snapping against yours with ruthless force.

The bed creaked beneath you, the sound mingling with your moans and his grunts as he took you, his cock sawing in and out of your dripping cunt. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your nails raking down his back, leaving red marks and bloody imprints.

Daemon's brutal thrusts tore through you, each one sending shockwaves of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. You screamed, your voice hoarse and ragged as he pounded into your virgin cunt. Tears streamed down your face, your nails raking down his back as you clung to him desperately.

He had taken something sacred from you, your maidenhead, and you knew your souls were now tied. The ritual of first blood, unplanned as it was, had sealed your fates together. And with a dragon as your first, the power you could now wield...

You threw your head back, your moans echoing off the stone walls as he fucked you with complete disregard. Your hips bucked to meet his thrusts, the pain giving way to a pleasure you had never known before. You were lost to the sensation, your body consumed by the feel of him inside you.

Daemon's eyes darkened at the sight of your tears, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He could feel your walls clenching around him, gripping his cock like a vice as he claimed you over and over again.

He angled his hips, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you with each brutal thrust. His hands roamed your body, groping and squeezing, leaving bruises in their wake.

"That's it," he growled, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take my cock like the little slut you are. Fucking mine now, aren't you? Your cunt belongs to me."

You met his thrusts with your own, your hips rising to meet him as he drove into you over and over again. The bed groaned beneath you, the frame creaking threateningly as he took you with unrestrained lust.

You felt your peak nearing, your entire body on fire as Daemon pounded into you with unrestrained fury. You brought his neck to your teeth, biting down hard enough to draw a few drops of blood. The copper taste flooded your mouth, bitter and metallic as you licked the crimson liquid from your lips.

"Now you have bled for me too," you whispered ominously, your voice thick with lust and dark magic.

But before you could reach your peak, you quickly reached for your enchanted necklace, clutching it in your hand. The ancient magics within pulsed to life, amplifying the power of this ritual tenfold.

Power surged through you, your cunt squeezing tight around Daemon's cock as you came. Your eyes rolled back, your body convulsing as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. Dark energy swirled around you, the air crackling with stifled energy.

"Mine," you whispered, your voice echoing with unexpected dominance. "You are mine now, Daemon Targaryen. Entwined by blood and pleasure."

Daemon's eyes flew open in surprise, his mouth falling open as he felt the surge of dark witchcraft. But it was too late - the ritual was complete.

Daemon froze, his cock buried deep inside your still-spasming cunt. He stared down at you, his eyes wide with shock and a hint of fear.

He groaned, his hips stuttering as your cunt clenched around him like a vice. The dark magic amplified every sensation, every touch, every thrust. It was overwhelming and intoxicating, and he never wanted it to end.

"Fuck," he gasped, his voice strained with anger and pleasure. "What did you do?"

But even as he asked, he knew. You had bound him to you, claimed him in a way that went beyond the physical.

He thrust into you one last time, his cock erupting deep inside you as he came.

He tried to pull out, to break the connection, but your walls clenched around him, refusing to let him go. Panic flashed across his face as he realized the implications of what you'd done.

"You... you she-devil," he snarled, his hands tightening on your hips. "Did you plan this? To trick me, to bind me to you?"

You just grinned, a vicious, seductive curve of your lips. You could feel his fear, his anger, but beneath it all was a flicker of arousal. The power you now held over him was intoxicating.

"Shh," you cooed, your fingers trailing down his chest. "Don't fight it. We are one now."

You roll your hips, your walls clenching around his softening cock. He groans, his hips bucking unconsciously into yours.

You gasped as the obsidian stone of your necklace pulsed warmly against your throat. The maleficent force surged through your veins, your eyes rolling back in ecstasy. "Yes!" You cried out, the power exhilarating in your veins.

Your eyes, nearly black now, held his gaze as you sneered cruelly.

Daemon collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His softening cock slipped from your abused cunt, a trickle of his seed leaking out to pool on the tattered sheets beneath you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies still intertwined as you both tried to process what had just happened. The energy that had swirled around you during your climax still lingered in the air, making the hairs on Daemon's arms stand on end.

Slowly, he lifted his head, his dark eyes searching your face. He looked confused as he took in your triumphant grin and the blackness of your eyes.

"What... what did you do to me?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You smiled at him, your eyes gleaming with malice. "I didn't do anything to you. I had no desire to harm you, as I stated before," you answered truthfully. "Did you know that the moment when one reaches orgasm is the most intense and the most powerful experience a human can have in life? For in that moment, the soul suddenly opens to the divine realm and the breath of God is infused. I needed another to reach divinity."

You rose from the bed, slipping your ripped dress back on and throwing a cloak over yourself. "I simply used you... as you have done to many women in your life, I'm sure. Do not fret, my prince," you smirked.

Daemon stared up at you, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and a hint of grudging admiration. He pushed himself up to sit, his naked body on full display as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

"Used me?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "I've never been used like this before."

He stood, his cock already starting to harden again at the sight of you, despite his anger. He took a step towards you, his hand reaching out as if to grab you, but he stopped himself.

"What are you?" he demanded, his eyes raking over your form. "What kind of witch are you?"

He snatched up his discarded breeches, roughly pulling them on, his mind reeling from the events of the past hour.

"I should kill you for this," he growled, but there was no real heat behind his words. He knew he couldn't, not now. Not with the bond between you, however unexpected it may be.

"What do you want from me now?" He asked, rage clearly visible in his eyes.

You sauntered over to Daemon, your hips swaying seductively. The rip in your dress left little to the imagination, your full breasts on display for his hungry gaze. You could see the desire warring with the anger in his eyes as you approached.

"Nothing anymore, my prince," you purred, your voice like honey. "My powers have been amplified. I owe you a debt of gratitude for that."

You traced a finger along his jawline, feeling the prickle of his stubble. "Though I wouldn't mind having you take me again. I doubt I'll find another man as virile as you in all of Westeros."

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "You've awakened something in me, Daemon Targaryen. A hunger I never knew I could satisfy."

Your hand slid down his chest, your nails raking lightly over his skin. "I am yours. And I suspect you are mine as well."

You pulled back, your eyes locking with his. "What say you, my dragon?"

Daemon's breath hitched as you touched him, his body responding instantly to your proximity despite his anger. He grabbed your wrist, his grip tight enough to bruise as he glared down at you.

He pulled you closer, his other hand gripping your hip. "You want to be taken again?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "I'll fucking ruin you."

[inubaki]

The Exchange (first showings)

part 6

Adam had no accurate account of how long he’d laid in the pit. Lucifer said nothing and neither did the boys as Eve remained in her state of stasis.

The pit was an engorged trench of earth Eve had so keenly constructed amongst many in Adam’s absence. Deep enough to cover but never not adequately deep enough to bury a human body. It was intricately cushioned in stakes of strange smelling plants, flowers and possible herbs. Its bedding bore a sharp contrast to its barren surroundings where floral refused to grow. Nothing disturbed Eve and days dragged along to months without even a murmur.

It came as a double edge to ease Adam’s paranoia from her last fit, but also entrapped him to the same spot. Refusing to abandoned her and cause a rift with the twins. All the while his stomach was only growing larger by the day.

“Ozzy…”

Lucifer announced with a kiss to Adam’s brow. The human man looking up from his assorted rations, giving the pale man a perfect window to push a daisy behind Adam’s ear. Sunflower colored eyes leered back at him with its usual suspicion. The once angel laughed and disrupted Adam boldly to shove himself into Adam’s lap. The beast’s favorite place if not to leer eerily behind him. “Asmodeus, really, but Ozzy for short!”

Lucifer repeated. Like a snake, he curled himself around Adam’s front. An embrace as lucid as it kept constricting. Adam shuddered away by instinct and general unease by physical contact. “That’s a Stu——“ he jerked in alarm as Lucifer’s fangs nicked at his swelled nipple. The arising tenderness in his chest which he refused to acknowledge. Their softening metamorphosis and only inspiring more leeching excitement for the demon making it all the more impossible to shove the leech away. “-STUPID FUCKING NAME!! Ahh—-“. Adam’s breath caught as Lucifer’s warm tongue engulf his nipple entirely. The shock of it eliciting a full body jerk, his cock twitching between his leather and furs. The years of neglect since leaving Eden rendering him ultra sensitive to even the slightest touch from the beast at his breast.

What would Eve say now? Now that he was the one being entrapped upon by Lucifer’s corroding influence. Adam chocked back a stammering moan as Lucifer switched breasts as easily as he switched humans. The fucker… Between them, his stomach gave the faintness of movement and dispute Adam jerking away from the sheer alieness of the feeling, Lucifer only purred. “So fitting it is, for the first prince to be of Lust…”

Lucifer’s hands lower to slip through Adam’s coverings. Tapered claws tracing along the beginning of an ample curve. Something shifted beneath the skin invoking a thirsty snarl from sharpened fangs. The ‘angel’ Adam had long forsaken shoved his face between Adam’s bared chest while giving an utterly inhuman whine. There was no end to Lucifer’s reach as Adam felt utterly engulfed. “Cause we’ll never get enough of you… My Queen and I… to our mother of hell….”

——-

It’s not very good. But, even with my headache, I wanted to do at least something. Eve, the earth’s first witch, had wanted to bring Adam some happiness. In form that would take, not even she expected.

Eve was Lucifer’s and Lilith’s first conduit. Dispute being human children, the children Eve bore carried their blood, strengthening their bond. The pit is the space in which both Abel and Cain drew their first breath and first blood so it’s the site most closeted to ‘them’.

And by extension are the marking Eve’s craved both into herself and Adam. Tying them both to the pit and Lilith, and Lucifer’s influence. Eve had expected to be the mother of humanity. And though she would be, she did not expect to what liberty Adam would carry in parallel to her.

pervs:

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[hsunrry]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

twitter // requests are open, so feel free to ask! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

i’m posting as often as i can!

english is not my first language, so sorry if there’s any typos or something! enjoy!

newest on the top!

⊹ ࣪ ˖𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬⊹ ࣪ ˖

• christmas lights (smut)

• shy (smut)

• coachella (smut)

• date night (smut, angst)

• it's positive (smut)

• you can take it (smut)

• you're not the problem (smut)

• water whale (smut)

• best i've ever had (smut)

• new side (smut)

• are you fucking hard? (smut)

• fairy lights (smut, fluff)

• don't leave me (smut, angst)

• pretty boy (smut)

• moustache | moustache 2 (smut)

• perfumes (smut)

• argument (smut, angst)

• college teacher (smut)

• home alone (smut)

• safe word (smut)

• sweet release (smut)

• ring (fluff)

• assistant (smut)

• special room (smut)

• witch (smut)

• about you (smut)

• wedding (smut, angst)

• ghostface (smut)

• online meeting (smut)

• new year's eve (smut)

• dressing room (smut)

• nurse (smut)

• lights up (smut)

• princess (smut)

• love triangle (smut)

• location (smut)

• winter house (smut, angst)

• teacher (smut)

• lesson (smut)

• princess (smut)

• first time? (smut)

• study session (smut)

• hockey (smut)

• dressing room (smut)

• car ride (smut)

• new pillow (smut)

• roommates (smut)

• app (smut)

• summer house | summer house 2 (smut)

⊹ ࣪ ˖𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬⊹ ࣪ ˖

• innocent (smut)

• are you fucking hard? (smut)

• better (smut)

• argument (smut)

[stellalunasapphic]

Other Kathryn Hahn characters if they also walked the Witch's Road

Eve Fletcher: Goes down the road because she thinks it would be a fun adventure going on a trip with all these ladies. Maybe she could kiss one of them... Deeply regrets trying to be adventurous and has a mini mental breakdown. The second to die.

Carla Dunkler: Comes to Agatha's pregamed and ready to party. Takes all the warnings very unseriously, steps off the road and sinks into the mud. When Billy closes the door, she appears in Agatha's basement thinking it was all a bad drunken night. Or maybe those granola bars. Shouldn't have eaten those expired granola bars.

Claire Debella: Approaches the road like a puzzle. Figures out the road is not real and no one believes her. The fact that she is yelling does not help. Agatha kills her 'on accident'. Agatha is disappointed with how little power she syphons from Claire.

Lily Lebowski: Is fascinated by how the concept of the road. After the first death, she becomes a lifeline for many. Agatha makes fun of her but is actually very greatful to hear her words. They talk about Nicky. Sacrifices herself and is the last to die, the group falls apart without her.

Maya Mason: Yells "Oh hell no!" after the door appears, and faces the Salem Seven with her acrylics and her Stanley cup alone. They let her go after several colorful insults.

Jennifer Barkley: The only survivor to make it all the way down the road, no I won't elaborate.

[sailorsoons]

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

★ PERMANENT TAG LIST ★ WIPS AND UPDATES ★

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ᴏɴᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Amnesia | Seungcheol x f. reader | Friends with Benefits to Lovers | Hint of Angst | Smut | Complete

Choi Seungcheol has never been the type to commit to relationships - casual is more his thing. You’re fine with that - except you and Seungcheol seem to be terrible at casual when it comes to one another. 

Giving Season | Chan x reader x Seungcheol | Established Relationship (w. Seungcheol) | Polyamorous | PWP | Smut | Complete

You always enjoy the office holiday party each year, especially when you get to do secret santa. This year, you enlist Seungcheol’s help to give Chan the perfect gift.

Hush | Incubus!Seungcheol x reader | Supernatural | PWP | Smut | Complete

You can’t seem to sleep, but the strange man in the bar that you can’t visiting promises he can help. 

Midnight Sails | Pirate!Seungcheol x reader | Pirate AU | Sort of Lovers | Requested | Complete

Seungcheol has never been able to give his heart over to anything but the sea, which has landed him in a never-ending game of chase with the sea’s favorite daughter. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ᴏɴᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Break | Witch!Joshua x Cursed!Reader | Magical AU | Friends to Lovers | Heavy Angst | Smut | Complete

You’ve suffered your entire life after a single magical accident when you were thirteen. Joshua has been your biggest comfort and anchor, but he also becomes your deepest regret. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ᴏɴᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Baby | Soonyoung x f. reader | Mafiaverse | Established Relationship to Exes to Lovers | Angst | Smut | Complete

Soonyoung had been in your life for as long as you can remember. You haven’t spoken since your wedding to someone who isn’t him, but when you uncover your husband’s plans to turn against your family, you don’t know who else to call.  

Greedy | Vernon x f. reader x Soonyoung | PWP | Idolverse | Smut | Request | Complete

Vernon is good at a lot of things - Soonyoung wants to help him be good at one more thing. 

One Hundred and One | Soonyoung x Reader | Established Relationship | Fluff | Requested | Completed

Soonyoung is always affectionate and sweet. Soonyoung after a few drinks is all of that and more.

Petrichor | Soonyoung x afab reader | Slice of Life | Smut | PWP | Established Relationship | Completed

Waking up to the sound of rain is good - waking up to the sound of rain and Soonyoung pressed up against you is better. 

You. Always. | Soonyoung x f. reader | Established Relationship | Slice of Life | smut | PWP | Complete

Soonyoung isn’t a jealous guy - he’s not. But sometimes it gets to him, the way other people look at you and fall a little in love with you. Don’t they know you have him? 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ᴏɴᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Chat, is that Rizz? | Wonwoo x f. reader | Established Relationship | Slice of Life | Smut | Completed

Your rivalry with Wonwoo has existed for as long as you’ve been streaming. It’s fun, and both of your communities love it. Wonwoo is happy to play along - at least until you question his rizz while live, and he feels like he should remind you just how much rizz he has.

Santa Baby | Wonwoo x f. reader | Established Relationship | Humor | Slice of Life | Completed

Your boyfriend is stuck working on Christmas Eve in hell on earth. You decide to pay him a little visit to cheer him up - and give yourself a good laugh.

Sweetest Thing | Dad!Wonwoo x Mom!Reader | Established Relationship | Slice of Life | Smut | PWP | Completed

For the first Halloween in years, you and Wonwoo are able to enjoy it together without the kids. When you feel a little nervous about your costume, Wonwoo is determined to show you that you’ve always been the sweetest thing. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ᴏɴᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Storm Breaker | Jaeger Pilot!Jihoon x Jaeger Pilot!reader | Pacific Rim AU | Forced Proximity | Strangers to Lovers | Smut | Angst | Complete

It’s a known fact Lee Jihoon is one of the best pilots the Jaeger Program has. The only problem? He can’t keep a co-pilot to save his life. He thinks you’ll just be another Ranger in the rotation, but you are an unpleasant surprise. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ᴏɴᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Prism Power | Mingyu x afab!reader | Established Relationship | Smut | Fluff | PWP | Complete

It’s your first Halloween with Mingyu as a couple and when a power outage threatens to ruin your favorite holiday, Mingyu makes sure to save the night. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ᴏɴᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Dark Gospel | Vernon x afab reader | Supernatural | Complicated Relationship | Thriller | Angst | Smut | Complete

After discovering Vernon experienced a violent possession on Halloween night, you try to help him get his old self back. Except Vernon is insisting he's not still possessed and this has always been what was lurking under his surface... and you're not totally convinced that you mind.  

Hello, Darling | Vernon x afab reader | Supernatural | Friends to Lovers | Thriller | Smut | Complete

Vernon has been one of your best friends for years. Shy, quiet and calm, he’s always been a steady rock for you. He has no idea you’re in love with him, but that’s neither here nor there. Ater a strange series of events on Halloween night, Vernon seems a little… different, and the new version of him both terrifies and thrills you. 

Greedy | Vernon x f. reader x Soonyoung | PWP | Idolverse | Smut | Request | Complete

Vernon is good at a lot of things - Soonyoung wants to help him be good at one more thing. 

On the Clock | Vernon x f. reader | Fake Dating | Coworkers to Lovers | Smut | Complete

Modern problems call for modern solutions, including naming a random stranger in the bookstore as your boyfriend to avoid an embarrassing encounter with your ex. The problem? The stranger is Vernon and he’s not supposed to be a stranger at all - he’s your coworker, and now everyone at the office - including your ex - thinks you’re dating. 

Vengeance | Vernon x f. reader | Mafiaverse AU | Established Relationship | Smut | Angst | Complete

You always knew you were different from a young age. The only person who has ever been able to understand you is Vernon. When things take a turn for the Choi Syndicate, your long-term relationship is put to the test.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ᴏɴᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Blood & Popcorn | Chan x f. reader | Friends to Lovers | Idiots to Lovers | Smut | Hint of Angst | Fluff | Complete

Fridays are reserved for watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and stuffing your face with popcorn and pizza. It’s been like that for you and Chan since your freshman year of college. But when he skips your Blood and Popcorn night for a date, things take an unexpected turn. 

Giving Season | Chan x reader x Seungcheol | Established Relationship (w. Seungcheol) | Polyamorous | PWP | Smut | Complete

You always enjoy the office holiday party each year, especially when you get to do secret santa. This year, you enlist Seungcheol’s help to give Chan the perfect gift.

Still Watching? | Chan x f. reader | Established Relationship | PWP | Smut | Slice of Life | Complete

Blood and Popcorn with your newly minted boyfriend is your favorite. Except now you watch a lot less Buffy and a lot more of Chan. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

These are masterlists to stories that all occur in the same universe, whether or not their stories are connected.

★ The Syndicates Collection ★

[drghostwrite]

This Christmas…

This is a long one so buckle up, it’s also a little late but considering today is Christmas… well I did my best lol.

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x wife!reader

Summary: it’s your first married Christmas together and you have a mischievous plan in the works to brighten your wife’s holiday.

Warnings: smut… Minors DNI!

********************************************************

The scent of cinnamon and nutmeg lingered in the air as you stood at the stove, a cover of ‘This Christmas’ softly playing in the background. You glanced over at the beautifully decorated Christmas tree standing proudly in the corner of the room. Each ornament reflected tiny sparks of firelight, and the star atop glimmered with enchantments Agatha had whispered into existence.

The soft glow of twinkling lights illuminated the kitchen, casting golden hues across your wedding ring as you stirred the pot of mulled cider. 

Its was your first Christmas married to Agatha and it felt like a dream, each small moment filled with warmth and anticipation.

Over the last week, you and Agatha had taken to sneaking little gifts into each other’s stockings early. She had gifted you an antique gold necklace with a small onyx gem that hummed faintly with protective enchantments, and in return, you’d slipped a handwritten poem about the love you shared along with a very expensive cashmere sweater in her signature purple. Yesterday, she had surprised you with a leather-bound spellbook from the 17th century, its pages imbued with whispers of witches long past. And in her stocking today, you’d placed a bottle of her favorite vintage wine with a cheeky note: Save this for dessert, my love.

You heard her before you saw her—the familiar sound of her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. Agatha appeared in the doorway, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, lips painted a rich wine-red that matched the sweater. She smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she approached.

“You’re spoiling me, darling,” she murmured, sliding in beside you at the counter. Her hand found yours, fingers curling around your wrist as she pressed a kiss to your temple. Her other hand toyed with your wedding ring that glinted against the kitchen lights, turning it idly as though marveling at the commitment it symbolized.

“Just making sure you’re as spoiled as I feel,” you teased, leaning into her touch.

“You’re too good to me.” she purred as she continued playing with your ring.

The sight of it made her pause, her fingers curling around yours as her thumb traced the smooth, silver band. Your ring was a marquise diamond surrounded by an elegant twist of platinum and deep sapphires that Agatha said reminded her of starlight. In contrast, her own ring was bold: black diamond surrounded by tiny, white diamonds, a design you chose to reflect her darker mystique.

“I still love seeing this on your finger,” she murmured, her voice softer than usual as she raised your hand to her lips.

“Good,” you replied, leaning back into her warmth. “Because it’s staying there.”

Her chuckle vibrated against you as she nuzzled into your hair. “Of course it is, darling.”

You bit your lip, fighting the grin threatening to spread across your face as your plan began to form. “Actually… I just realized we’re missing something important.”

She arched a perfectly sculpted brow, her hand pausing mid-caress. “Missing something? We have wine, presents, cookies, magic-infused cider, and each other. What could possibly be missing?”

“Candy canes,” you said with an exaggerated sigh. “From that little shop downtown, the one with the nice owners that makes them by hand.”

Agatha blinked in disbelief. “Candy canes? It’s Christmas Eve! The stores will be a madhouse, and besides, I can just conjure—”

You shook your head, slipping into your best dramatic pout. “No magic. It won’t taste the same. I need those candy canes to make Christmas perfect.”

She gave you a long, dramatic sigh, “You’re lucky I love you.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider her words. “You’re right, I am. Now, go on. The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back, and I can finish up here.”

Agatha grumbled under her breath but pulled you close, her lips brushing yours in a lingering kiss before she finally relented. “Fine. But you owe me for this, and I’m cashing in tonight.” With a wink, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the night.

As soon as the door shut, you sprang into action. The lingerie you’d hidden away for this moment was a deep shade of burgundy, edged with delicate lace that left little to the imagination as it hugged your curves perfectly, paired with sheer stockings and heels, the Santa hat you wore tying the whole outfit together.

You slipped it on quickly, adding a spritz of your favorite perfume before draping yourself under the tree. The glow of the lights danced over your skin, and you arranged yourself with care, legs stretched out, arms resting above your head, the picture of temptation.

Minutes passed, and then you heard the telltale sound of the front door creaking open.

“Darling, the things I do for you…” Agatha’s voice carried through the house as she kicked off her boots.

“I got the damn candy canes, but if one more person bumps into me—” She stopped mid-sentence as her gaze fell on you. Her sharp blue eyes darkened, a slow smirk spreading across her face.

“Why, Mrs. Harkness,” she drawled, tossing the bag of candy canes onto the couch without a second thought. “What do we have here?” A low sultry laughed slipped past her perfectly painted lips.

You grinned, tilting your head to meet her gaze. “Christmas came a little early this year.”

Agatha’s lips curved into a wicked smirk as she stalked toward you. “My, my. You’re the best gift I’ve ever unwrapped.”

You leaned back on your elbows, letting your legs shift just enough to catch her attention. “I figured it was time to unwrap the real present.”

Her eyes trailed your body, “You’ve been a very naughty girl, haven’t you?”

“Maybe,” you teased, “You going to punish me?”

“Punish you?” she echoed, her lips brushing against yours as her fingers found the hem of your lingerie. “Oh, darling… I’m going to make sure you don’t leave this spot until morning.”

You leaned up, capturing her lips in a kiss that made her sigh against you. “Merry Christmas, my love,” you whispered, your voice laced with anticipation.

Agatha’s reply was a low, teasing growl as she trailed kisses down your neck. “Oh, darling, Christmas isn’t over yet. Let’s see how many times we can unwrap this present tonight.”

Agatha’s words sent a shiver down your spine, her sultry tone lighting a fire in your chest. Her hands were firm yet tender as they slid over the lace framing your body, her fingers expertly tracing every curve with maddening precision. She paused, her lips hovering over the hollow of your throat as she chuckled softly.

“And to think you pretended to need candy canes of all things…”

You tilted your head, pretending to look thoughtful. “Well, I did need those candy canes for the perfect Christmas…”

“Forget the candy canes,” she interrupted, her voice a low growl, “The only thing I want tonight is right here.”

Your laughter was cut short as she leaned in again, her lips finding the sensitive spot just beneath your jaw. She kissed a path down your neck, her teeth grazing your skin just enough to leave you gasping. You let out a small groan your hips grinding down into her lap. She undid your bra quickly tossing it aside and pulling an erect nipple into her mouth.

“You’re absolutely sinful, you know that?” she murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. The way her dark blue eyes burned into yours made your cheeks flush, your breath catching as she smirked. “If this is how you’re starting Christmas, I can’t wait to see what you’ve got planned for our anniversary.”

You reached up, threading your fingers through her hair, tugging gently to draw her closer, her lips connecting with the bare skin between your boobs. “Oh, don’t worry. There’s plenty more where this came from.”

Her laughter was low and wicked, the sound sending another wave of heat through you as she leaned in. “Then let’s make this Christmas one to remember, shall we?”

Her grip was firm as she laid you back onto the plush rug beneath the tree. You couldn’t help but marvel at her strength, the way she carried herself with such confidence and control. The twinkling lights of the tree cast shifting patterns over her face as she trailed heatedly kisses all down your body.

Her thigh was pressed to your core and you tried your best to grind up against her, searching for any kind of friction. She grinned against you at your silent pleas but decided she would be generous with the teasing, sliding her long delicate fingers beneath the waistband of your panties.

“Mm… so wet for me already, waiting all day really did a number on you.” She whispered as her fingers stroked through your dripping folds.

“Agathaaa…” you whined against her soft lips.

“Careful darling, I wouldn’t want to rush unwrapping my gift…”

Her fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear and peeled them off, seeing the wet spot already forming. She tossed them over her shoulder and they ended up hanging from your tree, you chuckled but it was cut short by your wife forcing your legs open.

One hand dug into your bare inner thigh while she watched her fingers slowly drag through your slick, she let out a low possessive groan and she watched you clench around nothing.

She slowly bent down, and stuck out her tongue flatly running it against your pussy tasting you, she gently pulled your clit into her mouth, swirling her tongue.

“Agatha, baby?” You pleaded.

“What does my darling wife need… hmm?” She hummed, mesmerized by the effect she had on you. She continued to tease you, her fingers sliding into you as she moved to bite into your thigh.

You bucked against her at the feeling of her fingers inside you, curling against you but you needed more, you needed to feel more of her inside you.

“Please my love…”

“Words, use your words pretty girl.”

She leaned up kissing your breasts but her fingers roughly pressed against your clit, she felt your buck against her. Her hand on your thigh came up to brush against your swollen lips and you quickly sucked her thumb into your mouth, the action snapping her blue eyes to meet yours. You moaned against her and she roughly brushed your clit again making you gasp and release her finger, her hand coming to wrap around your throat.

“I need you… I need you to fill me up, I need to feel you inside me…” you gasped out, your wife’s breath hot against your skin.

“Does my gorgeous wife need me to fill her with my cock… is that what you need darling?” She asked you and you quickly nodded as you clenched around nothing but air, her fingers still lightly brushing your sensitive clit.

She bent down to kiss you and you whined into her mouth, you bucked your hips and she took the hint. She quickly sat back and fumbled with the button on her jeans, unzipping them and sliding them down her thighs, your mouth watered at the sight of her sliding her pants and underwear over her toned thighs and the effortless way she tossed her sweater and bra aside.

But the moment she waved her hand and a deep red strap appears your mouth ran dry, “Agatha…” you trailed taking in the sight, this one was bigger than the others.

“Cat got your tongue darling?”

“It’s… it’s…”

“Bigger?… well you didn’t think you were the only one with a few presents hidden did you?” She said grasping the silicone cock and lining it up at your entrance, you were propped on your elbows watching as she lined it up and started to push the tip in.

You fell back, the only thing stopping your head from hitting the floor was Agatha’s hand as she cradled you, you wrapped your arms around her shoulders, tears coming to your eyes.

“Agatha, it’s too big…”

“You can take it pretty girl…” she said pushing into you further, the burn and stretch intensifying.

“It hurts… Agatha I don’t know…”

“Okay love… just hold on…” she cradled you in her arms, fingers gently running up your spine as your nails dug into her shoulders. She halted her movements when she finally bottomed out, waiting to feel you relax, when you finally did she spoke up.

“Do you remember your safe word?”

“Snow?”

“Good girl…” you weren’t sure how but you clenched around her at the pet name, “are you okay?… or do you need me to pull out?” She asked.

Agatha could be ruthless but not when it came to you, even if you were being a brat she still let you know that she cared.

“I’m okay… m’okay…” you assured her and felt her start to move, slowly thrusting in and out of you.

You knew she could feel it, the way you clenched around her, the way your pussy greedily pulled her in, Agatha enchanted every single one of your straps. But tonight wasn’t about her, not yet, right now it was about you.

She started to speed up, still holding you in her arms as she thrusted harder and faster… your gasps and moans in her ear signaling that you were close.

“oh god… oh my god… don’t stop… Agatha don’t stop…” you said breathlessly and it only spurred her on.

“Agatha I’m going to…”

“Go ahead love, cum for me pretty girl…” she whispered and she felt you come completely undone, your legs quivering around her waist, your head falling back as your body went limp in her arms.

“Holy shit…” you laughed, your body warm against the rug covering the wooden floor, Agatha watched you closely still planted firmly inside you.

“Darling are you okay if…?” She trailed, motioning to the strap and you slowly nodded. She pulled out and you gasped at the loss of contact, the loss of that fullness but you could feel the ache and soreness building.

“Your turn Mrs. Harkness…” you trailed and grasped her shoulders slowly pushing her to lay in front of the tree.

“Oh, I think…” before she could say anything you ran your hands up her legs, opening her thighs and laying in front of her, you started gently, running your tongue through her dripping pussy, her head falling back as she propped on her elbows.

Your tongue swirled around her clit as her gasps and moans filled the room, you ate her out like a starved woman, one that wanted nothing more than to taste her wife forever.

Agatha’s hand tangled in your hair as you quickly brought her through her first two orgasms, but you didn’t stop there.

You snaked a hand up her thigh planting it firmly on her lower belly, your fingers easily sliding into her as you continued to suck and lick at her clit, your fingers curled inside her hitting that dangerously sweet spot. When you felt her getting close you applied a little more pressure and before you knew it she was orgasming all over again.

She squirted into your mouth, her juices covering your chin, running down your neck. You sat up with the most love drunk smirk on your lips. A little chuckle escaped you as you saw the blissed out look in her eyes, her lips slightly parted.

“Well darling, I see you’ve learned a few things… and apparently that means we’re going to need to replace the rug….” she laughed in a low sultry tone.

“You’re my wife… I’m supposed to know exactly how to make you feel this good… I can always buy another rug.” you leaned up to kiss her lips, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

She kissed you and you could taste the mixing of each other on your lips, the kisses gentle but heated as you both enjoyed each other, hands still gently roaming.

The world outside was forgotten as you lost yourself in her touch, her kisses, and the way she murmured your name like it was the only thing she needed. By the time the tree’s lights began to dim, your plans had unfolded perfectly, and Agatha made sure you knew just how much she appreciated her early Christmas gift.

As you lay together afterward, wrapped in a blanket on the floor beneath the tree, Agatha tilted her head to look at you. “You know,” she said with a teasing smile, “we still haven’t opened the rest of the presents.”

You grinned, resting your head against her chest as her fingers traced lazy circles along your arm. “Oh, I think we’ve already unwrapped the best one.”

Agatha laughed softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Merry Christmas, my perfect little temptress.”

“Merry Christmas, my wicked wife,” you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of her arms and the soft glow of the tree wrapped around you both like a spell.

[d-z20]

A Lesson in Witchcraft (NSFW)

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x Reader

Summary: You're studying under the most powerful divination witch on the continent—Lilia Calderu. What began as mentorship soon became something far more personal. But knowledge comes at a cost, and under Lilia’s guiding hand, you’re about to learn your most unforgettable lesson yet.

- OR -

Her methods of teaching you to concentrate on tarot turn out to be far more distracting and she ends up fucking you. Like a lot.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, top Lilia, hints of dom Lilia, plot gets abandoned for porn pretty quick, smidge of soft aftercare, R receives: praise, magic strap, breeding, overstimulation, fingering, oral, I think that's it but I could be wrong

Words: 3.2k

A/N: No body means no death 😤😤 requested fic

AO3 | Masterlist

The villa smelt of aged parchment and burning candles, a mixture that clung to the tapestries and books stacked in precarious piles around the room. The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows against the stone walls, as if whispering ancient secrets to those who knew how to listen. This was Lilia’s domain, her sanctuary, steeped in the echoes of centuries past.

In the moment she had thought would be her last, she had fallen—not onto the waiting swords and to certain death, but into the familiar embrace of her old coven’s residence in Sicily. It was then that she made a choice: no more running, no more denial. She would embrace her truth, her power. And in time, the world would know her name as the greatest divination witch on the continent.

And now, years later, you had sought her out. Desperate. Needing to understand the secrets only she could reveal.

“Tell me,” Lilia said, her voice rich and laced with amusement. “What do you see?”

You exhaled slowly, hands hovering over the tarot spread before you, trying to quiet the thrum of your pulse. The cards blurred under the weight of her gaze. You swallowed hard.

“Concentrate,” she chided, shifting in her seat. The movement was subtle but deliberate, the rustle of her robe revealing the barest glimpse of her thigh. “A divination witch must anticipate what’s to come.”

You bit your lip. You knew what she was doing. Lilia was testing more than just your magical ability—she was testing your control. She always did.

A shiver ran down your spine as she leaned forward, her fingers ghosting over yours. “If you were truly gifted, you’d know what I intend to do next,” she whispered, her breath warm against your ear.

You clenched your fists, struggling to maintain focus. The air crackled with energy as Lilia traced patterns over your wrist, slow, deliberate. No magic bound you, and yet you could not move, rooted to the spot by nothing more than her.

The first touch was gentle—a brush of fingertips down your spine, a shift in the atmosphere that sent heat pooling in your core. Then came the control. Lilia’s presence pressing down on you like a weight, her will wrapping around you tighter than any spell ever could.

She started slow, dragging out each movement, each whisper against your skin. Every time you thought you had a moment to recover, she pushed you further.

Your arousal grew with each teasing touch and lingering glance. Heat curled in your stomach, spreading through your limbs like liquid fire. Your thighs clenched instinctively, already aching, already too aware of the way Lilia toyed with you—keeping you on edge without ever giving you what you so desperately needed. The anticipation itself was maddening, your body betraying you with every sharp inhale, every unconscious tilt of your hips seeking friction that wasn’t there.

"You should have foreseen this," she mused, her voice still poised, still so effortlessly composed. "A good witch always prepares."

Your breath had started to come in ragged gasps, your body trembling under her calculated pace. The tarot cards around you fluttered as if caught in an unseen breeze, the room thick with the scent of magic and something far more intoxicating.

Every nerve in your body felt alight, and your skin was hypersensitive to her every movement. The way her fingers ghosted along your collarbone sent shivers down your spine, the barest press of her nails against your thigh making your breath stutter. It was unbearable—this slow, torturous buildup. Every brush of her lips, every teasing stroke across your burning skin only made the ache between your legs more unbearable, the slickness pooling there undeniable.

Lilia smirked as she traced a lazy circle against the inside of your wrist, watching the way you twitched under her touch. "So responsive," she purred, more to herself than you. "You're practically trembling already."

She finally pulled away, leaving you breathless, your skin flushed with lingering heat. But she was far from finished. Reclining back into her chair, she extended a hand, beckoning you forward with nothing more than a commanding gaze.

"Come," she instructed, voice silk and steel. "Show me how much you've learnt."

Your legs barely held steady as you obeyed, every step reminding you just how wet you were. The evidence of your need slicked the insides of your thighs; the cool air against your heated skin only amplified the ache. The anticipation coiled tight in your stomach; the knowledge that she was watching your every movement made the fire in your veins burn even hotter.

It was only when you reached her that you saw it—her enchanted strap, shimmering faintly with magic, resting against her thigh. Lilia’s ringed fingers traced over the length of it, slow and deliberate, her nails raking just enough to make her shudder. A quiet, pleased sigh slipped past her lips, and for the briefest moment, she bit down on her lower lip, savouring the sensation.

You knew she could feel everything. Every stroke, every touch—it all translated back to her. The way her breathing hitched only made the ache between your legs worse; need coiling so tightly in your stomach it was almost unbearable.

Lilia’s dark eyes flickered up to meet yours, knowing and hungry. She gripped your waist as she guided you onto her lap, the heat of her body seeping into yours, her nails pressing into your skin just enough to keep you grounded. “Come now,” she purred. “I can already tell you’re ready for me.”

"Slowly," she murmured, hands firm yet coaxing as she helped you lower yourself onto her. The moment you sank down, a sharp gasp tore from your lips. You were so worked up, so utterly drenched, that the strap was already slick with your arousal, easing the stretch but doing nothing to dull the overwhelming sensation of being filled.

Lilia hummed in satisfaction, her fingers tightening around your waist as she felt the way you trembled in her grasp. "There... take your time," she encouraged, though the dark gleam in her eyes told you she was savouring every second of your struggle to adjust.

The stretch was overwhelming in the best way. Your walls fluttered around the intrusion, your body instinctively trying to draw her in deeper. The magic woven into the strap pulsed faintly, attuned to your every reaction, making the sensation all the more intoxicating. You swore you could feel her twitch inside you, the enchantment allowing her to share in your pleasure.

Lilia's smirk deepened as she watched you shudder, her grip firm as she guided you further onto her lap. "So eager," her voice was silk and steel. "And so very, very wet."

She didn’t rush you. She simply watched, her eyes half-lidded, absorbing every twitch, every soft gasp you couldn’t suppress. And when you were fully seated, she hummed in satisfaction, tightening her hold on your hips.

“Good,” she praised, her grip shifting as she guided you into motion. “Now, let’s see if you can keep up.”

You barely had a chance to adjust before she took control, lifting and lowering you with practiced ease. Each movement sent sparks through your entire body, pleasure mounting too quickly, too intensely. Your nails dug into her shoulders as she pushed you further, refusing to let you slow.

“Tell me, young one,” she purred, lips ghosting against your throat, “can you divine how many times I intend to make you cum?”

You couldn’t answer. Words failing you as the pleasure built impossibly high, your body surrendering to her guidance. She only chuckled, her grip tightening as she thrust up to meet you, pulling strangled moans from your lips.

Lilia was relentless. She drove you to the edge of an orgasm over and over, her name slipping from your tongue like a prayer. And when she finally allowed you to cum, it was nothing short of ruinous.

She held you close as the aftershocks wracked your body, her fingers tracing idle patterns over your sweat-slicked skin. But she wasn’t finished. Not yet.

She rolled her hips once more, drawing a sharp gasp from you. “We’re not done,” she reminded you, her voice wicked and indulgent. “You can take more.”

Lilia's words seeped into your blissed-out mind, thick with promise. Your body was already trembling; every inch of you hypersensitive to her touch, but she wasn’t offering mercy. She wanted more.

"Up," she instructed, voice velvet-dark, her hands guiding you as if you were no more than a doll in her grasp. Your legs barely cooperated as you lifted yourself off her lap, the motion making you shudder at just how wet you were and how slick the strap had become from your cum. Your thighs trembled as you stepped away, but Lilia didn’t let you go far.

"Over the table," she commanded.

You obeyed on instinct, pressing your hands against the ancient wood, the tarot cards scattered beneath your fingertips, their meanings lost in the haze of pleasure clouding your mind. The cool air kissed your heated skin, but it did nothing to soothe the ache.

Lilia took her time. She traced her fingers down your back, teasing over the curve of your ass before dipping lower, spreading your folds with deliberate intent. A sharp breath left you as she dragged her fingers through your slickness, humming in satisfaction.

"So eager," she mused, her tone almost thoughtful. "So sensitive."

You jolted when she shoved two fingers inside; the stretch so easy, so effortless after everything she had already done to you. Your body clenched around her as she thrust them deep, curling just right.

"L-Lilia—"

She hushed you, her other hand pressing against the small of your back, keeping you pinned as she worked you open with measured strokes. Each push sent you spiralling higher, your legs shaking beneath you, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"You will cum again for me," she purred, her pace quickening, her fingers relentless.

It was impossible to resist. The pleasure slammed into you, violent in its intensity, your body locking up as your next climax tore through you. Your cries filled the dimly lit room, but Lilia wasn’t done.

As your body slumped forward, boneless, she withdrew her fingers, dragging the wetness over your inner thighs, marking you with it. And then, a new pressure—her strap pressing against your entrance once more, still slick with your combined arousal.

"One more," she said, voice dark with promise. "You can give me one more, can't you?"

Your only response was a desperate whimper as she pushed in, stretching you once more, filling you so completely that it sent fresh sparks of overstimulation coursing through your veins.

Lilia chuckled, hands firm on your hips. "Good girl."

Lilia didn’t hesitate. She pulled out and then thrust back in hard, burying herself to the hilt in one swift, punishing movement. The force of it sent you forward, your breath catching in a strangled moan as she filled you.

But this time, she wasn’t just toying with you—she was chasing her own pleasure.

Her grip on your waist tightened as she set a brutal pace, her hips slamming into yours with unrelenting force. Each thrust sent increasingly desperate arousal through you, your body twitching, struggling to keep up with the pleasure that had already wrung you dry.

And then her hand slid lower.

Her fingers—cool, adorned with heavy rings—pressed against swollen clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made you jerk in her grasp. The sensation was too much, too intense, and yet you keened at the contact, pushing back into her touch.

"Lilia—your rings," you gasped, barely able to form words between the relentless rhythm of her hips and the exquisite pressure of her fingers. "They feel so good."

She chuckled darkly, dragging her fingertips over you with teasing precision. "Do they now?"

The contrast of the metal against your overheated skin sent a shiver through you, amplifying every sensation until you were practically sobbing for relief. Lilia only hummed, stroking you with slow, knowing circles as she pounded into you, her own breath coming in ragged gasps.

"You were made for this," she whispered, her voice tight and controlled, though her rhythm was faltering, growing more erratic.

Then, with a deep, low moan, her hips stilled against yours. She pressed in as deep as she could go, her grip turning bruising as she came inside you, the strap pulsing in tandem with her climax. The sensation had you whimpering, your body locking up at the heat that filled you.

She stayed like that for a moment, catching her breath and letting the pleasure wash over her. But she still wasn’t done.

"On your back," she commanded, her voice thick with satisfaction.

Your limbs felt like liquid, barely able to function, but you obeyed. With a soft gasp, you turned onto your back, legs dangling off the side of the table, tarot cards now forgotten beneath you. The room spun with the force of your own exhaustion, but then Lilia was between your legs again.

She pressed a kiss to your trembling inner thigh before dragging her tongue over your pussy, lapping up the mess she had left behind. The sensation had you arching off the table, your hands grasping at the air for something—anything—to ground you.

"Lilia—" you choked, a sob ripping from your throat as she sucked at your sensitive clit, her tongue flicking against it with ruthless intent.

There was no escaping it. You were already too sensitive, too raw, and the moment her mouth sealed around you, another orgasm crashed over you without warning. Your body tensed, legs trembling violently as you came again, your cries echoing through the room.

But Lilia didn’t let up. She took in every drop, drinking in your pleasure like it was the finest wine, her grip firm on your thighs to keep you still as she worked you through your release.

And then—one last time.

She pulled away, her lips glistening, her eyes dark with hunger as she stood. The strap between her legs twitched with renewed magic, still ready, still insatiable.

"One more, just one more," she insisted, dragging you upright and pulling you flush against her. "I want to feel you shatter for me again."

A breathless, wrecked laugh escaped you. “That’s what you said last time,” you managed to protest, your body still trembling, nerves alight with exhaustion and oversensitivity.

Lilia only smirked, utterly unmoved. She brushed a damp curl away from her face before she turned you over and bent you back down against the table.

“You can give me one more,” she murmured, her voice thick with promise. “I know you can.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before she was inside you once more, filling you to the hilt in one swift motion. A cry tore from your throat at the stretch, the wet slapping sound of your bodies meeting nearly obscene in the quiet of the room.

At first, her thrusts were deep and slow, forcing you to feel every inch of her inside you. But as soon as she felt your body respond—felt the way you clenched down around her despite your protests—her pace shifted to be rough and unforgiving.

Your overstimulated body had no resistance left. The moment she angled her thrusts just right, pleasure speared through you like lightning, raw and all-consuming. Your climax tore through you with a force that left you gasping, clawing at her back, your entire body clenching around her in desperate waves.

Lilia groaned, her grip bruising on your hips as she buried herself deep, chasing her own release. A guttural moan escaped her as she spilled inside you once more, her hips stilling for just a moment as she let the aftershocks wash over her.

She didn’t pull away immediately. She stayed pressed against you, her breath ghosting over your skin, her fingers tracing slow, idle patterns over your trembling thighs.

Lilia's gaze lingered on you for a long moment, amusement dancing in her dark eyes as she traced her fingers along your jaw. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she gave her next command.

"On your knees," she spoke, her voice thick with satisfaction. "Clean me up properly."

Your limbs were weak, trembling from the relentless pleasure she had wrung from you, but you obeyed without hesitation. Lowering yourself before her, you grasped her thighs for support, your breath ghosting over her strap, now covered with a mix of both of your cum.

Lilia let out a pleased hum as you took the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue over it before sinking down further. The taste was intoxicating, a mix of everything she had given you.

"Just like that," she praised, threading her fingers through your hair, her grip tightening as she guided your movements. "Such a fast learner."

You hollowed your cheeks, taking more, bobbing your head at the pace she set. Her fingers curled at the back of your skull, her hips rolling forward ever so slightly, pushing deeper into your mouth. The strap twitched against your tongue, carrying the echoes of her pleasure.

A sharp inhale and then a moan.

"You're being so good for me," she hummed, her voice unravelling as she thrust just a bit deeper. "Now, swallow every drop."

You barely had time to prepare before she came once more, herf cum spilling onto your tongue, thick and warm. The sensation alone made your core throb with residual need. You swallowed obediently, not letting a single drop go to waste, your throat flexing around her as she let out a shuddering sigh of satisfaction.

Finally, Lilia loosened her grip, her fingers stroking over your hair in silent approval. She helped lift you to your feet, steadying your shaking form before guiding you toward the chaise lounge in the corner of the dimly lit room.

"Rest, young one," she said gently, draping her coat—rich in golden embroidery and worn with the weight of years—over your shoulders. The fabric smelt like her, like incense and old books, like the very essence of magic itself. You melted into its warmth, exhaling softly as she settled beside you.

Her fingers ghosted over your forehead, brushing damp strands of hair away with unexpected tenderness. It was a stark contrast to the way she had just ravaged you, and yet it felt just as intoxicating.

Then, without a word, she reached for the deck of tarot cards still scattered across the nearby table. With practiced ease, she shuffled, then drew a single card, turning it toward you.

The Page of Pentacles.

Lilia’s lips curled into a knowing smile.

"How fitting," she mused, tapping the card lightly. "A symbol of knowledge... of boundless potential. Of someone eager to learn, grow, and carve their own path."

She tilted your chin up, dark eyes locking onto yours with quiet pride.

"And I believe, my dear apprentice, that you will do just that."

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My only hope is that Patti LuPone would approve of this fic

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