#rune: the accidental witch

[lerenee]

Oh please tell us fun facts about your ocs, any of them! :D

Thanks for the ask, JJ! :D

How about the protagonists of my different story ideas?

[Note #1: Akane is a combination/replacement of Iris & Marigold, I combined them with an old oc named Moriko.]

[Note #2: All of the stories have names except Joseph’s. Rune’s is Rune: The Accidental Witch, Makoto’s is Magical Mech Girls, Akane’s is Safe Haven, Bryan’s is Orion, Noir & Yosuke’s is Blazing Stars.]

Rune Tachibana: 16 years old, Japanese, Witch (Rune is a silly little guy. He loves food, especially rice balls! He ends up having his soul bonded to his witch familiar, and he gets fluffy ears & a tail as a result. Also he used to dye his hair orange using box dye, but it became naturally orange after the soul bonding.)

Joseph Coppola: 25 years old, Italian, Supernatural Detective (Joseph is the second youngest of five children (almost all of his siblings are more successful than him. Except one). After suffering a major injury, his mother finally convinced him to hire a bodyguard.)

Makoto: 17 years old, Japanese, Magical Girl/College Student (Makoto is a shut in, she doesn’t like to leave her house unless she has to, and would much rather stay home enjoying her favorite activities (reading manga, watching anime, playing video games). Once she becomes a magical girl she’s forced to step outside her comfort zone and go outside. Unlike most magical girls, she transforms into a mech.)

Akane Mori: 19 years old, Afro-Asian, Beast/Monster Tamer (Akane is searching for her older half brother, Kosuke. The shoes she wears are an old pair of his. She has a group of slimes with funny names (Tangy, Melon, Ghost, Jello, and Soap)! And she has wings, but they are too small so she can’t really fly. At best she can kinda hover above the ground.)

Bryan Tsui: 25 years old, Chinese, Delivery Guy (Bryan is the new guy on the space station! He delivers packages to different parts of the station. But he’s very clumsy. He has bandaids all over him because of it. Bryan is an airhead.)

Noir Hino: 20s, Japanese, Assassin (Yosuke’s childhood friend, she & Yosuke were raised in the same orphanage until they both got adopted and lost contact for many years. Now they are both fighting in the same war, but on opposite sides.)

Yosuke Yukimura: 20s, Japanese, Knight (Noir’s childhood friend. Yosuke seems calm, cool, and collected when wearing his helmet but in actuality he’s a himbo.)

Thanks again for the ask! :3

[redmagicflower]

hiiiii i'm giving in to my dreams, so<3 story of seasons & rune factory focused multimuse of whoever i feel like writing, with very likely additions from other farming games as i continue ! i talk about these games every week so might as well have as much fun as i can with my beloved characters,,,,

[miupow]

UNDER THE MOON

★ pairing。lee felix x fem!reader genre。⧼ 📖 ⧽ smut , comedy , pwp warnings。minors do not interact! demon!felix , witch!reader , magic , breeding kink , unprotected sex , sub to dom , oral (f. rec) , vaginal fingering , cowgirl position , mating press , creampie , overstimulation , dacryphilia , squirting , breast play , marking , size kink , monster cock felix lol , dirty talk , praise kink , degredation kink , name calling , power play , bulge kink , orgasm control , strangers to ???

★ synopsis。you accidentally summoned the wrong demon , but you won't let that get in the way of getting what you want.

a/n ⸝⸝ not proofread lol. let me know if there are any mistakes! this is my second longest fic to date, wow... i hope you all enjoy ! [ 5. 5k words ] ⸝⸝ [ m. list ]

any respectable, well-to-do witch knows that the perfect time to summon a demon is during the full moon. that was when the boundary between the living and the otherworldly was at its most blurred, and a person's magical ability was especially potent– you could feel it thrumming through your body just under your skin, concentrating at your fingertips, just begging to be released. accompanied by your excitement and nerves, you felt simply alight with power.

even then, you still couldn’t believe you managed to summon a demon.

the force of the summoning makes him fall flat on his ass, thick black smoke filling up your bedroom and snuffing out your ritual candles– you can only get a good look at him once the smoke clears out of your open window, the moonlight illuminating his form in the darkness. the first thing you notice are his mismatched eyes, wide and wild as he takes in his new surroundings; one was a deep dark brown, the other an icy steel blue, his pupils slit like a feline’s. his otherworldly beauty takes your breath away, a smattering of freckles across his high cheekbones, heart shaped face framed by curled black horns and platinum hair that cascades down to his shoulders; his inquisitive gaze travels to the summoning circle he was laid out on, ancient runes etched into your hardwood floor, and then to you, peering down at him from the edge of your big pink bed.

“h-how did you do that?!” the demon finally asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence. his thick aussie accent surprised you— you didn’t think demons could have accents other than whatever one they have in hell. “where did you learn how to do that?” 

“hello to you too,” you retort, rolling your eyes. “i summoned you here with my family spell book.”

“spell book?” he echoes, taking another look around your frightfully girly bedroom— he’s quick to spot a rather old-looking tome left open on the floor near where he sat in the summoning circle, propped up with a beady-eyed stuffed animal. 

“it’s been in my family for generations.” you stand to pick the spell book up off the floor, dusting the smoke residue off the pages. 

the demon blinked up at you, odd eyes raking over the lacey little nightgown you were wearing. “you, um, don’t really look like that kind of girl...” 

“the kind to be a witch?” you laugh. “i just summoned you here, didn’t i? listen, i need your help.”

“my help? with what?” he moves to stand up as well, patting down his crumpled leather vest— he’s much, much taller than you expected him to be.

you hide your gulp with a dramatic scoff. “i want to make a deal with you, idiot; what else would i have summoned you for?! that’s what you do with demons, isn’t it? and, like, sign over your firstborn or whatever.” 

the demon stares at you in abject disbelief for a moment before dropping his head into his hands. “you humans are so stupid…” he mutters under his breath. “i’m not even that kind of demon. i can’t make any ‘deals’ with you.”

“bullshit! what do you mean you can’t make deals with me?!” you retort, crossing your arms. “the spell specifically said it would summon an entity that would make all my dreams come true!”

the demon blanches and stutters, his freckled cheeks turning pink. for some reason, you didn’t think that demons could blush. “um… well, about that…” he laughs nervously. “i’m an incubus. not the kind of demon you’re looking for, i think… i’m not even that good of an incubus, to be honest with you…”

you cock your head, watching as the demon shuffles his feet, his pointed black leather boots scuffing up your floor. “why do you say that?”

“i’ve never been summoned like this before, by a mortal…” he admits softly, his blush deepening. “i’ve never been in the human realm at all before; i’m supposed to be using you mortals to strengthen my powers, prey on you in your sleep… but i’m just too nervous! you humans frighten me… the other incubi make fun of me for it. i’m a terrible demon, you probably need to summon someone different…”

his sad pout was so cute for a demon from hell, and you can’t help but giggle a little meanly at the incubus’ plight. “you’re a virgin incubus? i never thought there was such a thing…”

the demon scowls, his pretty face screwed up in a way that wasn’t intimidating in the slightest. “don’t laugh at me.” he whines petulantly, “i could kill you right now if i wanted to.”

“sure you could, loser virgin incubus.”

the demon’s scowl deepens, trying very hard to keep his odd eyes from wandering their way down to your breasts, pushed up in your nightie by your crossed arms. “shut up. don’t call me that.”

“what should i call you then?” you snicker. you can’t help but revel in the way the demon’s eyes eat you alive— while he seems gentle and harmless, the way his mismatched eyes seem to glow with something dark and venomous when he looks over you leaves you shivering. something darker seemed to be hiding just under the surface of this seemingly innocent incubus… and you yearned to discover just what that was.

“felix. my name is felix.” the demon— felix-- mumbles to his shoes. he seemed to have noticed that you’ve caught on to his staring, anxiously avoiding eye contact. cute.

“that’s not a very demonic name.” you remark playfully. “i like it, though. it suits you, felix.”

felix huffs and rolls his eyes, but you can see the beginnings of a shy smile tug at the corner of his lips, his sharp, vampire-like teeth poking out in an oddly endearing way. you won’t let his cuteness distract you, though— you took all this time and effort to summon him, and you were determined to not let it get wasted.

“so… do you have any cool powers or anything?” you press, “like, could you maybe… make somebody fall in love with me?”

felix blinks owlishly down at you. “um… what?”

“listen, there’s this guy on campus i like, right? he’s my roommate’s best friend and he’s just so dreamy… but he’s in love with this girl i can’t stand. it’s like he’s obsessed with her, it’s disgusting.” you huff, curling your lip. “i just want him to forget about her and see what he’s missing! can you make him fall in love with me or something, like cupid? make him obsessed with me instead— you can do that, right?”

“er, well, kind of—”

“you can? perfect!” you clap your hands excitedly. “do i just need to tell you his name, or—”

“wait, wait—” felix interjects with a flustered stutter, “hold on a moment! w-what’s in it for me? i don’t go around doing favors for free, you know.”

you think for a moment, an ingenious and devilish idea quickly forming in your head as you slide your gaze down felix’s fit body. you never expected hell’s demons to be so drop-dead gorgeous, but you supposed it made sense with him being an incubus and all… slowly your lips pull into a devious grin. sure, you summoned the wrong demon, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do your bidding anyway.

“you want to be a better incubus, right? want the other demons to stop making bullying you?”

“well, yes…”

“i can help you.” you offer, taking a step closer to the nervous demon in front of you. “i can teach you everything you need to know about pleasing a human… if, in return, you use your little demon powers to help me out.”

it takes felix a second to process just what you’re proposing, his eyes widening comically and his mouth dropping open in a gape. the blush on his freckled cheeks now burns crimson red, all the way to the tips of his pointed ears. “wh- wait, really, you— with me?!”

you nod with a sensual smile, taking another slow step forwards; just close enough to reach out and run a finger down his chest. “you help me and i’ll help you, okay?”

felix’s eyes flicker down to your lips, his adam’s apple bobbing with his gulp, and you can see it on his face when his flimsy resolve crumbles. “you’re lucky you summoned one of hell’s nicer demons, no other demon would ever agree to something like this— mmffh!”

you grab him by the lapels and pull him into a kiss in the middle of his sentence, his last words smothered on your soft and persuasive lips. he returned your kiss with reckless abandon, whimpering into your mouth. he was far too good of a kisser to be as inexperienced as he claimed, the tenderness leaving your knees weak and your thoughts spinning. a thin string of spit connects your wet lips when you pull away for air, snapping when felix darts a forked pink tongue out to lick his bottom lip in a daze.

“wow…” he whispers in awe, his sparkling eyes gazing at you through lowered lashes. “kissing humans is so much better than i thought it would be…”

his lips recapture yours, more demanding this time as that sinful forked tongue coaxed your lips open and explored the recesses of your mouth. the savage intensity of it sends a shock wave through your entire body, your senses short-circuiting— you tear your lips from his, quickly turn him around and push him onto your pink floral mattress. once again, you nearly succumbed to his distractions.

felix lets out a huff when his backside hits the bed, confusion paralyzing him just long enough for you to begin slowly undressing.

“woah, a little impatient, are you?” felix laughs, “you humans can never take anything slow…ly…”

he grows quiet as you slide the straps of your nightgown off your shoulders, the thin lace fabric pooling around your ankles. it left you completely bare except for a pair of tiny cotton panties, a little wet spot already visible in the white fabric. he ogles at your tits, round and perky with your nipples beginning to harden in the cool air.

his hungry gaze roamed over your figure, taking in your soft curves and tummy, dropping to follow your hands as you pull your panties down your thighs. they join your nightgown on the floor, and felix gets his first look at your pussy as you step out of them and kick them to the side.

“wow… you are so… beautiful.”

the sincerity in which he says it makes both your heart and your pussy flutter. you can’t hide your eagerness as you saunter forwards and begin to climb up on felix’s lap. “are you ready for your lesson?” you purr into his ear, your hand sliding up his thigh towards the growing bulge in his pants. just the size of the bulge alone makes your head spin— and he’s not even fully hard yet.

“h-hold on,” felix whimpers, grabbing your wrist, “you’re so small and, you know.. human sized… shouldn’t i, um, prep you? i don’t want to hurt you, i’m not one of those kinds of demons.”

you look back down at his bulge, just out of your reach with his fingers around your wrist. “that’s probably a good idea…”

you slide off his lap, positioning yourself in the middle of your bed; you rest your head among all your pillows and stuffed animals, all cute and cuddly and nothing at all like the dark energy that filled the room, the wicked smile on your face as felix crawls up the bed and in between your parted legs. he stares enthralled at your pussy, spread open all for him to admire— his hands come to grasp at the meat of your thighs, seemingly trying to ground himself as he takes everything in.

“oh, fuck,” he croaks, mismatched eyes glinting in the moonlight, “you’re already so wet, it’s dripping all over the sheets… it’s beautiful. have you been wanting me this whole time?”

your words get stuck in your throat, shuddering in arousal as you nod coyly down at him. he screws his eyes shut and lets out a deep, pathetic groan. 

“god, you’re so fucking sexy… i never thought i could get so aroused by a mortal.”

“i’m sorry, whose name was that?” you joke, still feeling mischievous even as your heart rattled in your chest. felix shoots you an irritated glare.

“oh, be quiet.”

he shuts you up with another searing hot kiss, demanding and passionate, and his stout fingers moved to tease at your wet, sticky folds. you gasp against his lips, squirming beneath him; the gentle stroking of his fingers sent jolts of pleasure through you, your pussy clenching around nothing but air.

“i’m not sure what to do…” felix mumbles, breaking your kiss to graze his lips across your jawline. “i’ve never done anything like this before… will you show me how to make you feel good?”

“just touch me,” you plead. “i want your fingers inside of me, please—”

felix starts with just one, short but deliciously thick as he slowly pushes it into your fluttering hole. “fuck, you’re so tight…” the stretch makes you cry out and claw at his shoulders, finally having something inside to ease the ache after being so needy for so long.

felix freezes with his finger buried inside to the knuckle, glancing down at you nervously. “did i hurt you?”

“no, no, feels so good—“ his hesitation would be cute if you weren’t so worked up, desperately grinding your cunt against his hand. “now move it in and out, nice and slow…”

he follows your directions dutifully, his movements slow and unsure, and despite his inexperience and anxiety, he quickly found a rhythm that flooded your shivering body with dizzying desire. waves of ecstasy crashed through you as you bucked your hips to meet his finger, whimpers and whines of delight falling from your open, panting mouth. his fingertip brushes your spongey sweet spot, electricity rippling under your skin and sending shockwaves through your core as you moaned in sweet agony.

“am i doing good, little human?” felix breathes shyly against your ear.

his eagerness to please made your pussy throb around him, sucking his finger in deeper—he was a quick learner, paying special attention to your sweet spot as you gushed slick all over his hand. “i think i am, you’re even wetter than before, it’s so noisy,” he accentuates his claim with a curl of his finger, the obscene wet squelches of your pussy ringing in your ears. “just look how well you’re taking it…is it okay if i add another finger?”

“yes! yes, fuck yes, please—”

he slides another fat finger in along with his first, his big eyes watching as he stretched your tight pussy out even wider for the cock you all but ached for. you sob in pleasure as he quickens his pace, curls his fingertips harder against your sweet spot. “wow, you can barely take two of my fingers..” the demon above you murmured in faux concern, “i don’t know if my cock will fit.”

you throw your head back with a lustful moan.

“tell me what you want from me.” he continues in a deep rasp, his accent only adding to the desire in his voice, “tell me what to do to make you cum.”

“t-touch my clit!” you hiccup, pretty manicured nails tearing at the fabric of his shirt.

you expect another finger, maybe his palm—what you don’t expect is for felix to trail soft kisses down your chest and belly, lower and lower until his plump lips were hovering over the curve of your pussy.

“wh-what are you doing?!” you squeal as felix kicks your legs over his shoulders, “do you even know what you’re doing down there?!”

“no.” felix shakes his head with a grin before diving his head between your thighs.

he attaches his lips to your swollen clit, his long tongue dragging up between your folds to circle the bud with shocking precision. he sucks gently on your clit while his fingers pump deep inside of you, his pretty moans and groans muffled with his face pressed against your squelching pussy. “you taste so good,” felix mumbles, his wide, mismatched eyes blinking up at you to take in every one of your reactions. “fuck, i love this pussy so much… think you can take another finger?”

he presses in a third finger before you can even respond, pussy stretched past your limits as you sob out in pleasure. it’s overwhelming in the best possible way, his fingers quickly pushing you closer and closer to the edge as he licks your clit and slurps up your juices. the flames of passion raged through your very being, and you abandon yourself to the knot tightening deep in your belly. you haven’t felt pleasure like this in ages, yelping as felix sucks particularly hard at your clit, and without thinking your arms dart down to grab ahold of his twisted black horns. the growl felix lets out against your heated skin is obscene, dark and beastly as he buries his face farther into your cunt, quickens the pace of his fingers against your sweet spot. “fuck yes, nasty girl, that’s it— grab my horns and just take it!”

you use your grip on his horns to buck wildly against his face, the knot in your belly threatening to snap as felix pulls his fingers out to grab your hips tightly. his clawed fingers dig painfully at your flesh, but it only heightens your sense of pleasure as he shoves his tongue deep into your wet hole. he tongue fucks your pussy with vigor, his groans and growls growing deeper and more demonic as he fucks you to your climax. “pussy’s so fucking good, can’t get enough…”

“felix!” you squeal when the forked tip of his tongue brushes against your sweet spot. “felix, i’m close, i’m gonna cum--!”

“say my name again, scream it!” felix crows with his face still buried in your cunt, the dark, powerful boom to his voice that hadn’t been there before making you finally hurtled you past the point of now return.

you scream his name as you squirt all over his face, nasty and wet as you ride out your high on his tongue— you’re quickly catapulted into overstimulation, tears pooling in your lashes as you whine and attempt to push him off you by his horns. if anything, that just seems to spur him on more.

“fuck no, i’m not done,” he growls, a dangerous edge to his voice frightening you and making your spent pussy throb all the same. “i need more, can’t stop— need to make you cum again, and again—”

he devours you like an animal, otherworldly strength keeping him flush against you even as you thrash and push roughly at his head. he doesn’t stop until you cum again, soaking his face and your sheets in sweet sticky slick— your pathetic cries seem to snap him out of it, hastily tearing himself away from your trembling little pussy to look up at you in worry and alarm.

“i-i’m so sorry, i don’t know what came over me! i just.. lost control— that was good though, right?”

his pretty pink lips and swollen and wet with your arousal, his freckled cheeks and chin smeared with it, even his nose; he gazes at you with big, watery doe eyes, the opposite of how he had been looking at you when he had his face between your legs. you babble incoherently, scrambled brain unable to string together a single sentence, your chest heaving with the aftershocks of two back-to-back orgasms.

felix smirks. “i’ll take that as a yes.”

his odd eyes snap back to your spent pussy, the primal hunger in his eyes making you throb despite of how spent you already were. “you look so pretty like this, all spent… can you take more? i need to be inside of you, now.”

your own hazy, unfocused gaze lowers to the straining bulge in his leather pants— the size of it makes you dizzy, a little frightened, but your overwhelming need for more outweighs any fear, and you slowly move to prop yourself up. “can i ride you? it’ll be easier for me to, um… take it.”

felix nods excitedly, as obedient as ever as he moves to take your place on the mattress. his platinum hair splays out around his head like a halo, his pretty face so angelic despite the fangs, tongue and horns… the imagery makes you snort.

“alright, you can get on whenever you’re ready— ooh!~”

you swing your leg over his waist without hesitation, straddling him as you begin to tug recklessly at his clothes. you pull his vest and shirt up to his chest, revealing twitching washboard abs that made your mouth water, and loosened his belt and fly. tugging his pants down to his thighs, his red swollen cock slaps wetly against his abs, rock hard and drooling pearly precum from the fat tip. you moan at just the sheer size of it, long and thick with the prettiest pulsing veins— you’re barely able to fit your hand around it when you reach down to take ahold of him, relishing in the low whimper felix lets out. you slowly slide your hand up and down his shaft, watching in rapture as more precum leaks from the head and slicks up your hand. it aids in the slide of your tight fist, felix groaning out pathetically as your other hand slides up your belly to pinch and roll your budding nipple.

you slide his cock between your pussy lips, your slick and his precum mixing together to make a sticky mess. you let his cockhead brush against your clit, the sudden shock of pleasure making the both of you moan— felix’s hands are shaking when they shoot up to take ahold of your waist. the lust on his face makes your tummy turn, the tenderness and sincerity in which he gazed up at you. “if it’s ever too much, tell me, please?” he breathes, his thumbs stroking the flushed skin. ”forget about the deal.”

you open your mouth to answer, but find yourself unable to speak; his tip catches your entrance, the sheer size of it pushing against your hole leaving you breathless and stuck in a silent scream. it feels so much bigger than three fingers, more than anything you think you’ve ever taken, and you freeze in a confusing mix of frightened and aroused.

“shh, don’t be scared, human,” felix coos, his steady hands keeping you firm against his cockhead. he squeezes your waist reassuringly. “i’m not going to hurt you, i promise.”

his tip slides inside with a pop, the gummy walls of your pussy gripping onto him like a vice as he steadies himself and slowly starts pushing in— the burning pain of the stretch is quickly overshadowed by a flood of pulsing red hot desire, drawing you to a height of passion you had never known before. never had any lover made you feel this way, trembling with ecstasy as your greedy pussy sucked in more and more of felix’s demon cock. “you feel so good, you’re so warm, so tight— such a good girl, taking all this cock!” felix keens, eyes rolling back into his head as you take him all the way to the base, his shiny mouth falling open in a desperate string of moans when his cockhead kisses snug against your cervix. “oh fuck, you took it all!”

you both take a moment to relax and adjust, catching your breaths as you pant into each other’s faces; felix waits patiently until you’re breathing goes steady and you unclench your pussy around him, begin to squirm needily in his grasp. “okay, you can start whenever you’re ready—"

like a woman possessed, you start bouncing on his cock before he can even finish his sentence, his fat tip hitting so dizzyingly deep inside of you with every movement of your hips. felix throws his head back with a broken cry, his hands flying down to grip harsh fistfuls of your ass as you ride him. “oh fuck, you should have warned me! fuck fuck fuck, slow down!”

you’re deaf to his cries, unable to focus on anything other than the explosive pleasure that coursed through your core; you plant your feet on the mattress to help strengthen your bouncing, so fast and rough nasty wet slaps echoed throughout the room every time your ass met his pelvis. “you’re so fucking big, so deep inside of me!” you whine.

“you’re just using me like a toy… are you feeling good, baby? yeah?” felix whimpers, voice weak and wavering, “n-naughty little girl likes being full of big, fat demon cock? o-oh god, you’re going to ruin me…”

you answer him with a wail, crying out his name once again as you claw red scratch marks down felix’s taut, muscular chest and abs. the sting just seems to make him harder, his cock twitching inside of you as he moans in pain and pleasure. his noises border on animalistic, deep snarls and growls that go right to your pussy. his mismatched eyes lock onto your chest, your perky tits bouncing obscenely in his face, and he licks his lips with that dastardly snake-like tongue.

“perfect girl, perfect pussy, perfect little tits— do you want me to play with them? suck on them? tell me what you want and i’ll do it.”

“please,” you sob, “please make me feel good!”

felix pulls you down so your body is flush with his, his hands leaving your ass to pinch and roll your nipples. his grip on your breast is bruising as he squeezes and fondles, pulling one into his wet hot mouth— the combined stimulation of his fingers and his mouth on your puffy nipples sending your senses into overdrive, the new angle making his cock feel even deeper inside of you than before, carving out space in your tummy as you moan in delight. he bites down gently on your nipple, pointy teeth teasing your bud, his plump lips and talented tongue caressing as they slowly move from sucking your swollen, peeking bud to trailing down the swell of your tit. he kisses a searing path up your sternum, leaving dusky purple marks in his wake as his hands continue their onslaught on your tits, massaging and groping with tantalizing ferocity. “why do you taste so fucking good? every single inch of you is delicious…” felix murmurs against your fiery skin, his canines ghosting over your collarbones, “you marked me up, pretty girl, now i have to return the favor… i could just eat you whole.”,

“fuck me!” you squeal, dripping pussy spasming around felix’s fat cock as you crash your hips down onto his. “fuck me, please, need it harder!”

“fuck, don’t say things like that— it’s taking everything i have to stay in control, baby, pussy’s so good! i-i’m being gentle for your sake, if i could have you how i want you i’m afraid i might break you—”

his words go straight to your cunt, lighting a fire of need inside of you; with an evil little smile you suddenly stop bouncing, your ass flush against his hips as you begin grinding tight little circles. felix tears himself away from your spit-soaked chest, utterly debauched as he gazes up at you with wide, desperate eyes. “n-no, wait, why are you stopping!?”

“i want you to break me, felix,” you purr with a sharp glint in your eye, teasing over his scratch marks with the tips of your fingers. “i want you to lose control and let me have it, please—”

in an instant you’re thrown across the bed, your back hitting your mattress knocking the wind out of you, and he’s on top of you before you can catch your breath. his claws snatch ahold of both your legs and tosses them over his shoulder, folds you over as he resheathes his throbbing cock back inside your gaping, drooling pussy. with inhuman strength he takes complete control over your body, trapping you beneath him and leaving you helpless, unable to do anything other than lay there and take it as he rams his cock inside of you. his bulbous cockhead knocks against your cervix so hard you fear he’ll push through, such a witty girl brainless and fucked stupid split open with his cock nestled deep in your tummy.

“you never wanted it slow and gentle, did you angel?” felix goads, his deep voice gaining an echoing, demonic edge. “you wanted me to treat you like a slut from the very beginning… such a nasty little witch.”

his mismatched eyes catch on the little bulge his cock makes in your tummy, disappearing and reappearing with every thrust; he presses down on your tummy with a devilish grin and a moan, able to feel his cockhead pounding up in your guts. “you feel me right here, don’t you baby?”

“s-so d-deep—!” is all you can manage to whimper, your teary eyes threatening to spill from the overwhelming pleasure.

felix coos at your fucked out face, his sharp nails digging into the meat of your thighs in a disorienting mix of pain and pleasure. “so cute, taking my cock so well… will you let me cum inside? i want to— i need to fill you up with my cum.”

“yes, yes— god, i’m gonna cum, please!” you beg, any last shred of dignity leaving in favor for your impending climax. your need for release clouded your mind, unable to think of anything except for creaming around felix’s cock as he shoots a hot load inside of you.

“who? god’s not here, baby.” felix crows, mirroring your own joke with a chuckle. you don’t have the energy to even get mad at him. “just us— now tell me how badly you want this demon to cum inside of you. be a good girl and beg for it… maybe i’ll give you that firstborn you want so badly?”

your tears finally fall as you surrender completely to uncontrollable ecstasy, sobbing for felix to breed you as his hips grow sloppy. he’s so close to the edge, just as much as you— you can feel it in the shuddering of his body, his broken whimpers, the tightness in his heavy balls as they slap against your ass. you grab fistfuls of the bed sheets to ground you, keep you from floating away entirely as you lose yourself in pleasure.

“cum together with me, angel,” felix pants above you, thrusting as deep as he could inside inside your pussy, “cum on my cock as i put a baby in you—!”

you cum all over his cock in a rush of exalted endorphins, your pussy spasming violently with your third and most powerful orgasm of the night. your gummy walls clamp down around his shaft, trying to push him out and suck him in deeper at the same time; you can see a foamy white ring formed around the base when he pulls out to thrust back in, a sticky and creamy mess down his balls and thighs. finally, with an animalistic grunt, felix stills inside of you to add to the mess, hot thick ropes of seed flooding your womb until you overflowed. you’ve never felt so full in your life, slick and cum oozing out around where felix’s cock stayed buried deep inside of you. you ride out the aftershocks in each other’s arms, falling into an intimate embrace as you both work to catch your breath.

“fuck, look at that…” felix whispers after a long moment of silence, his hips moving gently to thrust loosely. more cum leaks out from where you were joined, the both of you moaning at the sight. “there’s so much cum it’s leaking out… a-are you okay? was that good?”

“good?! that was the best sex i’ve ever had in my life—” you reply, moving to prop yourself up, but felix pushes you back down with urgency.

“no, no baby, don’t move, you gotta keep it all inside! stay still while i push it in deeper…”

before you can protest felix begins to wildly pound into your spent pussy again, his cock still rock hard and throbbing against your walls— you cry out in surprise and overstimulation, more exhausted and drained than you’ve ever felt before, yet your greedy pussy opens up for him with ease. he shushes your sobs and hiccups, his caresses gentle but his eyes wild and dangerous… he’s gotten drunk on the power of your love, lost all control to the beast that had been hiding inside of him for so long..

“i don’t think that’s going to be enough… i’m not stopping until i’ve bred you proper, just how you want it, right? we’re not done.”

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Obsidian Salt

Summary: A little Witch!Reader x Demon!Rhys AU for my Spooky Season Fic List

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My hands shake around the ancient text, the worn tome heavy and dust laden from years upon years of sitting on a shelf, untouched and forgotten. The old latin script is illegible in places, the ink faded and hidden under unidentifiable stains; the parchment is dog-eared and scribbled in, the margins full of strange, archaic markings I’ve never seen used in our Coven’s rune work. These are not the spells of my ancestors, not the runes my mother and grandmother cast upon the old foundations of our family home. We are a family of witches, dating back beyond the ages of written word; I am supposed to carry on that legacy, but truth be told, I’ve always been terrible at spellwork. My potions are mediocre; powers of persuasion abysmal. I truly am a poor excuse for a witch, and everyone in the coven knows it. Perhaps that is why Sister Ruth chose me to put on a demonstration at the Solstice Festival tomorrow. If I cannot prove my worth, well, maybe it is in the best interest of the coven to throw me out, or worse, make a sacrifice out of me. 

I would not be the first.

I grip the tome a little tighter. I must prove my usefulness. I cannot fail my sisters, or worse, my grandmother.  She raised eight successful witches, it would be to her utter shame to have been my teacher all these years for nothing. 

I draw a shaking breath. These spells are old magic. Dark magic. But I must get good at something quickly, and the gods know I will not get there on any natural talent. Perhaps I don’t need to be a natural. Perhaps I just need to summon something that is. 

On the old wood floor of our basement, I have laid the circle of obsidian salt in three overlapping circles, each etched with runes of chalk for protection. Just in case, I’ve dusted the floor with dried rosemary and anise seeds; an added barrier against whatever evil I might accidentally conjure if this goes wrong. My mother’s amulet feels heavy beneath my sweater, the cold iron biting against my skin as if in warning against what I am about to do.

I take another deep breath and ignore the warning. I must not fail.

The words are clunky, foreign on my tongue, the first couple of tries produces no results at all. Perhaps I really am the worst witch ever!

I grip the tome so tight the spine groans as I try again, slower this time, sounding out each word piece by piece. I will not fail.

The whole basement is lit with candles and as I finish the final words of the spell, the light suddenly snuffs itself out. 

The air in the room drops to near freezing temperatures. My hands so stiff and shaky around the old tome that the book slips from my hands and falls somewhere in the darkness. I make it onto my knees to look for it in a mad scramble before the sound of rushing wind fills the tiny room. It’s so loud I have to cover my ears with my shaking hands. 

In the center of the salt ring, dark shadows begin to slither out from a crack in the floor, hissing like a dozen tiny snakes. 

What have I done?!

I scramble to find the book in the dark, hands tearing over the anise seeds and clumps of rosemary. Perhaps the crushed scent of herbs will be enough to ward off whatever terrible shadow I’ve just called upon!

The temperature of the room continues to drop, lower and lower, even as the screeching wind gets louder and louder. The shadows within the circle grow darker and thicker by the moment, spinning now like a whirlwind. At least the salt holds. 

And then, as quickly as the noise had begun, it suddenly quiets. All the candles light themselves again, allowing me to see where I’d dropped the book: Directly into the circle, having bounced over the line, and it now sits at the feet of the most handsome male I’ve ever seen in my life.

I can do nothing but stare. I had meant to summon some help, the soul of an old mage or a spirit from another world, perhaps, but not… well, whatever he is. He’s definitely alive, his bronze, bair chest rising and falling, making the swirl of dark ink over his skin move in twining patterns. Not a spirit, though I do not know what to make of the great, bat-like wings that sprout from his back, the leathery membrane twitching as he brings them close to his body to avoid the barrier the salt creates. And his eyes! Gods, there like two blazing, violet suns inside the sharp planes of his face. 

“Well isn’t this interesting,” he purrs, voice smooth as velvet.

“Gods, what have I done?” I whisper to no one in particular.

His mouth twists in a devilish grin as he bends down to pick up my tome. From the tips of his fingers come dark claws. A bit of living shadow curls over his wrist, moving like snakes across the worn pages. “No gods here, Darling.”

I, somehow, find it within me to stand, despite my shaking legs. It is still terribly cold in this basement; the source of it seems to be coming from him. “What are you?”

He chuckles as he flips through the pages, claws running affectionately over the runes written in the margins. “Why don’t you come closer and I’ll show you?”

The longer I watch him the more off I realize he is. There are fangs in his mouth, the sharp tips of them glinting in the candlelight. Tiny, glittering drops of starlight glisten in the strands of his raven-black hair. Intertwined within the ink across his chest are smaller versions of the runes written within the pages of the book. 

“I’ll stay right here,” I say.

He sticks out his full lower lip in a pout. “That’s no fun!”

He takes a step closer to the line of salt, testing the barrier with the tip of his boot. At least I managed to summon him half-way decent in a dark, leather pair of pants and boots. I don’t know what I’d do if I had summoned him fully nude. 

My cheeks flush at the thought, drifting down to follow the defined V of his abs, and where his pants slide low on his hips. If he were human I’d climb him like a tree. 

“Don’t tell me you summoned me just to gawk?” He presses. When he catches where my eyes are on his body, he adds, “Although you’re welcome to enjoy the view for as long as you like.”

I let out a huff. “I didn’t summon you for anything! I was trying to talk to the spirits.”

“There’s only one spell that can summon me, and you picked it,” he turns the book to show me the exact page I’d been reading from. “So tell me, what is it you want, Witchling?”

The way he says Witchling makes my skin flush; the heat in his tone enough to make me second guess myself. Why did I think that spell would summon something else? 

Perhaps I am a fool for saying it, but I blurt, “I need help.”

“Do tell,” he purrs.

“I’m supposed to give my coven a display of my magic tomorrow, for the Solstice, and well… I’m kind of the worst witch ever.” 

He glances at the herbs on the floor, and then back up to me. I swear there are actual violet flames moving around within his irises. I don’t know what he is, but I don’t think it’s anything that can help me. But how am I supposed to send him back without the book?

“I meant to summon a spirit to guide me in some quick magic. I didn’t mean to summon, well, whatever you are.”

“I am many things,” he says, walking a slow circle around the barrier, testing it. It’s like watching a recently caged animal at the zoo; he’s testing every point for a weak spot, and if he finds it, he’s using it. 

I swallow the lump in my throat. What do I do if he gets out?

“But you can call me Rhys.”

If there is any heat left in the room, it leaves in a rush. “As in Rhysand? One of the Princes of Hel?”

Rhys drags his claws over the invisible barrier the salt creates and I watch the magic ripple and pulse under those sharp tips. “Perhaps.”

“You need to go back,” I say in panic, even though I know it can’t work that way. I summoned him. I have to be the one to send him back. Without the book, Hel, even with the book, I can’t do anything. 

“Then send me back, Witchling.”

I’m going to have to get my grandmother, and everyone is going to know that not only am I a failure as a witch, but I am a danger to all of us. I can’t even read a spell book right! I summoned a Prince of Hel by accident!

I chew on my thumbnail, pacing now myself around the outside edges of the salt. What do I do? What do I do?

“Oh but you can’t, can you?” He teases, knocking the book against the barrier. “Not without this pretty little thing.”

The dried herbs crunch under my boots as I keep pacing. There are no other tomes like that accessible to me, not without the Elders knowledge. This one had slipped past unnoticed in my grandmother’s grand collection, I had found it by sheer luck. There were no other texts to help me out of this one, and at this rate, even if there was, could I even get it to work?

“So how about we do this my way, hmm?”

A shiver crawls its way up my spine. 

“You break the barrier, and I will help you with your little Solstice tomorrow.”

I finally turn to look at him. “You would do that?”

“After tomorrow night, you can send me back and we can pretend this whole thing was a bad dream.”

Maybe this wasn’t a mistake after all! Maybe I can still turn this around!

“You won’t cause any trouble?” I ask.

He puts a clawed hand over his heart. “I will not cause any trouble.”

“You swear it?”

“I cannot break my word, Darling,” he returns. 

My hands shake. What other choice do I have? “Just until the Solstice passes.”

“I promise you, that is all the time I will need.” I have to admit, his voice is strangely soothing. He does not strike me as some malevolent ruler of darkness at all. 

I grab a broom off the wall. “It’s a bargain then.”

He grins wolfishly the entire time, watching my every step as I approach with the intensity of a wolf stalking a deer. 

I swallow the lump in my throat. It’s only one night, what could one night hurt? With one last shaking breath, I drag the broom through the salt and break the seal.

The book clatters to the floor for a second time tonight, as he lunges forward, a clawed hand wrapping around my neck as his momentum propels me back against the wall. I hit the worn stones so hard dust rains down from the ceiling. 

Panic grips me; I have no magic to save me as a real witch ought. He’s taller than I thought he was, towering over me as his grip on me tightens to the point of pain, the tips of his claws leaving indents in my skin.  Rhys chuckles at my plight as he leans down and brushes his lips over mine in the ghost of a kiss. Ice fills my veins at the contact. “Silly little, Witchling, a night is more than enough to make you mine.”

[amortentia-over-ice]

Cross The Line - Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

Summary: Being friends with Sebastian hadn't always been easy, but it had been worth it. You had stood with him through everything, and just as things feel like all is right in the world, he suddenly starts to ignore you for no reason. And you don't necessarily take it well when you're ignored.

Warnings: 18+, slight bondage, characters aged up, smut, p in v

Word Count: 3.6k (bit of an intro for this one)

Sebastian had been avoiding your gaze like you had the damn plague.

It had started out of nowhere. One day...you're both all laughs and chuckles on the sidelines of summoners court. Leander's poses were ridiculous, and you both couldn't help but exchange a few jokes about it.

There had been nothing wrong for the first time in forever, and the spring weather had just started making you and Sebastian entirely carefree as you relaxed together in the grass.

You hadn't noticed as the breeze picked up, accidentally blowing a tangle of your unruly hair into Sebastian's face.

You snorted as his eyes widened whilst your hair attacked him, you apologized trying to tame and untangle him from it. His laugh was softer, though, when he beat you to it. His fingers wrapped around the whipping curl and you paused as he tucked it behind your ear.

You thought you caught something in his eyes, but it was gone before you had time to think.

“Your hair is it’s own magical beast, we ought to study it in class.” He joked ruefully.

You swatted him again. 

“Oh yeah? And how about yours Sebastian? Seems like it’s a topic of study for half the female population already anyhow.”

“And some of the male.” He added smugly. 

“Yes, them too. So bugger off about my own hair already. We all can’t be so lucky.” 

He smiled at you a moment longer, before turning his attention back to summoner’s court.

You had always bantered like this. He was easy to talk to, especially after navigating 5th and 6th year together....in your seventh everything had felt right in line for once. Like you might have been able to relax with each other after having gone through so much.

But you didn’t get to relax for long. 

The next day, you tried to approach him at the Slytherin table, offering him another joke at Leander's expense. All he had offered in return was a weak smile before turning to start a conversation with the witch on the other side of him.

Your smile faltered, but you shook it off. That had been weird, but you tried not to think too much of it. Maybe it had just been a bad joke?

Then, a few days later, you caught up to him in the corridors, slightly out of breath after calling his name to find no answer.

“Sebastian - do you have gnargles in your ears today? I’ve been calling your name for Merlin knows how long.. ” You scolded him, still lightly but the smile wiped from your face when he just shrugged and stated, 

“Were you? Sorry. Mind’s been preoccupied with a Runes assignment. I’ll catch you later though.” 

You knew a dismissal when you saw one. This time, hurt and anger rose as you were left standing in the middle of the corridor as he hurried off. 

But you were nothing if not stubborn. And you would not be ignored. 

Walking into Charms, you saw that the seat next to him was still open...despite his pile of bags and books he had placed on the seat to make it seem occupied. 

You stomped over, unceremoniously shoving his things to the floor and primly seating yourself down. He startled, looking at you with a glare. 

“No other seats in this room seemed to strike your fancy today?” He snapped. 

“Why- don’t want to sit next to me? Do I smell like a dugbog or something?” You snapped right back, despite your heated cheeks.

His own heated in return underneath his freckles as he sighed in annoyance, crossing his arms over his stack of books to rest his head upon them. He pulled his cloak’s hood over the unruly mess of brown and it was the last you saw of him for the rest of the lecture. 

The entire time you were fidgeting uncontrollably. Your knee tapping had both of your notes almost impossible to take. 

At one point, your knee accidentally brushed against Sebastian’s underneath the desk, and he jolted with so much force that the desk shook as his leg flew up with a bang to the underside of the table.

He gave you an icy glare which you returned as well. 

Right as the bell rang, Sebastian clumsily gathered his books and shot up out of his seat to storm his way out, but not before you followed in determination. 

“Sebastian. Talk to me.” You half whispered before grabbing his arm to keep him there. He whirled and looked at you as if you had burned him, his expression switching from anger, to what almost looked like pain for a minute, before indifference settled in. 

“You’re becoming quite a distraction, you know.” 

His words hit you like a brick in your stomach, and you eventually released him to let him storm off again. 

You had turned the words over in your head as you went through the rest of your day. Distraction? How? You had hardly been in his vicinity long enough this week to distract him from anything. 

You were not as gentle with potting your dittany as you should have been, grumbling that, if anything, it was Sebastian who had been distracting you now. 

You had skipped supper that night, opting to brood in the undercroft instead...only to find that Sebastian had the same idea. 

“No-“ He went to stand from the chair he had been seated in, but you had enough. 

“Incancerous!”

You had your wand out of your robe pocket before Sebastian could see the movement, and he grunted as as cords from thin air materialized around his torso to tie him to the chair. His look of absolute shock was almost satisfying. Almost. 

Just to be sure, you flicked your wand again to make sure his hands were bound behind his back as well.

“Are you mad?” Sebastian fidgeted with the restraints to find himself fully detained, but when he looked back at you his eyes held you in what you could only define as slight curiosity. 

It was enough to embolden you more, as if tying up Sebastian Sallow wasn’t enough. He watched as you walked over to him, his brown eyes meeting yours with an arched brow as your head dipped down until you were mere centimeters from his face. 

“Me? Mad? It’s possible....” You teased with a grin, and you swore you saw the corner of his lip twitch as if he was fighting a smile. You were both certainly mad in your own right if this is what it took to finally confront the truth you both had been avoiding.

 “...You’ve been running from me all week, after all, so this was the only thing I could think of to get you to stay put.”

You confessed, watching as his expression turned pained, if just for a moment. 

“Do you deny it?” You pressed him again, and his gaze flickered just slightly down to your lips. He let out a low sigh.

“Like I said. I’ve had a bit on my mind I’ve been trying to sort through. Distractions don’t help.”  

You watched as his eyes tried to find any place else on your body to focus on besides your lips, but it was hard to hide much when he was stuck in place. 

Your heart pounding as an idea came into your mind. An entirely mad one...but as Sebastian had pointed out already, madness had already been established here. Your breath fluttered out nervously before you moved.

“A distraction...?” You murmured hesitantly “...or a temptation?” When your finger tilted his jaw up to meet your eyes again, another low breath left his lips and you felt it brush against your own as you both regarded each other. 

His brows furrowed together stubbornly, but he didn’t look away as he finally said, 

“Does the difference matter?” He uttered, almost indolently as if in defeat.

But you didn’t want him to keep resisting. So you decided to give in. 

You move forward as you both hold your breath, and slowly lower yourself, sliding yourself right onto his lap, crossing into new territory. 

“What are you...” The hushed protest dies in his throat as you press hard against him, arms tangling behind his neck as you line your body against his. You are slightly trembling, and as if realizing that his breath hitches.

And oh. The fit of him against you lines so perfectly. It also allows you to feel the way his heart absolutely thunders, echoing your own.

He lets out a low curse and you swear you see his fingers twitching, itching to touch you.

But touching was an option he’d have to earn. 

You lean back only to observe his expression that is almost pained in his attempt to not just lean forward and capture your mouth right then and there. So, Sebastian watches it instead as you speak. 

“Well...If I’m just a distraction I suppose this will simply annoy you...”

Your other hand drags lower down his abdomen, tugging his shirt tail up to reveal skin, letting your nails slide under the cloth and trail the freckled abdomen you had dreamed about. Immediately he tightens under your touch. You raise your brow at him with a pleased grin.

“But, if I’m a temptation...try and resist me then.”

You nip against his ear and he groans. You had more where that came from.

You kiss everywhere along his neck, his jaw, everywhere besides his lips. His body tenses as if trying hard to continue to resist, but suddenly you feel the hard press of his cock harden against you in response. You sigh with a slightly smug smile of validation. You knew it. You knew he wanted this too.

"Fuck," The words are a groan and you decide to smile sweetly in victory.

"Maybe...it's possible." You whisper between kissing his freckles, "...that you don't want to resist?"

Your words are teasing, but hope lingers at the edges that it's enough for him to nuzzle against you.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for ...” He breathlessly exhales. Then he moves to find your neck. You feel a slight, nervous, pause as his breath coasts down your neck, raising your flesh with his heat. Then, suddenly, he nuzzles down the column of your throat inhaling as if trying to drink in your scent, straining against the ropes. Soft kisses start to pepper against your skin, slowly, as if this was a moment he had been fighting for a while. You lean back to find his eyes, holding them as you say 

“I know what I want, Sebastian.”

You take his words as an opportunity to shift your hips, tracing the length of him between your legs. He lets out another sharp noise as his lips find your skin again in immediate response. Your hand lifts to tangle in his hair to keep him there, tilting your head back and losing yourself in the feel of his open mouthed kisses against your neck...

But you couldn’t let him have all the fun yet. And you still did have to remind him that he had ignored you for an entire week for no reason. 

You lean away from his kiss, though the heat building is hard to leave and his confusion finds you before you lean to lick at his collar bone, slowly removing his shirt where you could, leaving it open everywhere the ropes didn’t bind, biting along the way as another playful punishment, licking your marks as you went. 

But your own...you let that completely fall to the floor to reveal nothing underneath. His eyes widen, dark with desire as they drink you in. 

There is no denying it anymore. This thing between the two of you. But you wanted to hear him say it. 

“Temptation it is then.” 

You whisper as you decided for him, and all he can do is nod in confirmation as he fights for his breath. 

“It’s a line we shouldn’t cross.” He utters in return as everything suspends between you both for a moment.

“We’ve always crossed lines, Sebastian. Since fifth year. Let’s not stop now.”

“That’s exactly why...we ...what I did...you..” Your eyes cloud and as if seeing the need in yours for the first time, his words soften, “..w-why we shouldn’t.” 

“Stop holding on to the past, Sebastian. You only get two options. Now or never. I didn’t tie you up for you to still run away from me."

Your words soften, pressing, as he can't meet your eyes, "...Tell me why we shouldn’t. Or tell me that you want me.” Your words tumbled out, desperate and needing him to tell you what you yearned to hear. 

“Fuck.” His breath is shallow, and then his finally eyes meet yours, serious and unsettling. In a ragged breath he finally gives in. 

“You know I do.” His breath is strangled as the words stumble out..his brown eyes locked on yours, “... I want you. Ever since your damn hair got in my face and all I could breathe was your scent. It’s intoxicating. I’ve wanted you since then. And probably before that. Even though I shouldn’t. I do.” 

His last word cracks in desperation and you meet it with the desperation of your own as you lean forward to capture his lips finally.

A slight whimper escapes your mouth as he meets your kiss with a hunger you weren’t ready for, his open mouth against yours as his tongue rolls to find yours, teeth and tongue, biting and sucking and everywhere, before you can register it. It’s as if he was waiting to devour your. 

His hips rock into yours, the only movement he can manage whilst still tied, and you press hard back against him. The electric charge between you is palpable and despite months of build up it’s only taking seconds for you both to lose yourselves in each other.

Your hair tangles into his brown curls as he gives an appreciative moan into your kiss, you let your fingers tug him closer to you and he kisses you harder, but the ropes groan with how hard he fights them to get closer. 

But not yet.

Your hands travel down as your mouth stays on his, deftly undoing the buttons of his trousers, and shoving them downwards past his knees until his cock springs loose. He groans again and then all but looses his breath as your hands wrap around him. He bucks right into your hands and you breathe words of praise to him. 

“S-shit.” He took in another shaky inhale as your hand moved in a steady rhythm along his length, savoring the feel of him, and finding his girth was enough to have to use both of your hands. Friction still found you, however, with a small adjustment you were able to ride it out against his thigh. The combination of your skin on his now bare thigh, your hands wrapped around his cock...Sebastian was reeling with want as he groaned into your mouth. He pulled back as his cock became harder in your hands, eyes on you with a demanding low growl. 

“That’s it. Untie me. I need my hands on you.” 

You nipped at his lips, and he he hissed. You gave him a smile as your scratchy voice taunted him, 

“Finally telling me what you want like a big boy. Much better.” 

Your hand barely flicks your wand to remove the bindings before his is around your wrist, and the other gripping your hip to pull you back towards him and locking you against him. 

His hand momentarily comes up to tangle in your mess of hair, wrapping it around his hand with a tug.

"I've been wanting to pull on this damn hair since fucking summoner's court." He hisses out before kissing you again. His hand returns to your jaw to kiss you deeper, you moaned into his kiss, and he groaned in return at the sound. He lets his hand at your hip travel down to cup your ass and press you harder against his erection. 

“Did you want me to tell you how many times I’ve been dreaming of fucking you? Of having you right here like this? Do you want that?” 

His breath is shallow against your lips as the confession of his desires has a deep feeling of wanting pulling at your lower stomach, the words going through you like thunder. 

“Yes." You whimper, the word is show and clipped, your hips move mindlessly to show him exactly how much.

Catching your meaning, his hand left your jaw to still your hips, then he went further down until he found your clit, one finger at your apex as the other dipped into you. He exhaled with want as a filthy sound comes out of your throat. 

“So wet for me.” He sighs, and you let out a needy whimper as he continues to work you, pleasure pooling and making a mess between you both. You feel his rock hard cock twitch against your thigh just at the sensation. 

“Sebastian -- Please..”  

But now that his hands are free, Sebastian is painstakingly slow. Continuing to rub against your swollen nub as he watches you writhe and gasp against him as if it’s the most incredible thing he’s ever seen, watching your every movement. His other travels up your abdomen, to your breast, thumb rubbing over your peaked nipple as he takes in every inch of you, and every inch of you is begging for him.

You realized how badly you had needed him. How you couldn’t stand the brief moment of there being a possibility you were invisible to him, because it was apparent he had seen every inch of you as his hands undid you piece by piece. 

Your hands gripped his curls.

“Sebastian-“ Your breath came faster, as did his.

“That’s it.. Breathe through it, darling. Let me see you..” His shallow praise finally pushed you over the edge as your orgasm rolled through you, and you rode his finger still in you while he drank you in, crying out as you fell against him. 

Next thing you knew, his hands were around you, holding you to pick you up and lower you both to the ground. 

“Merlin -“ He slurs in desire, your name falling like a praise from his lips as he found yours again, never far. 

He parts your thighs with his knee, his eagerness apparent as his body pressed yours deliciously into the floor. You rise to meet him, your own legs wrap around him eagerly as you kiss along his bare chest. You need all of him. Your hips demandingly reach upwards to drag the wetness he drew from you all along his shaft. 

He inhaled sharply as he pulled away briefly, exhaling as his hand cupped your cheek as you both paused for a moment. 

“I- If we do this..”

“Yes.” You cut him off with assured and breathless words.  

“Are you...sure?” 

You pulled his forehead down to yours. 

“I want to cross every line with you.”

He exhaled, as if in relief, and this time when your lips met they moved slowly against each other, as if savoring every movement. 

Vaguely, you felt his fingers hook your soaked cloth to the side, and and the blunt press of his head against your folds. 

You both inhaled, and in the next moment he was pressing inside of you as the line was not only crossed, but entirely decimated. A sinful noise fell from your lips as he filled you.

The feeling was so sweet that you whimpered again, his eyes widened to make sure you were okay, you only nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His shaky breath turned into a groan as his hips pushed deeper into you, sinking in completely. 

“Merlin- fuck. You feel amazing.” 

You sighed in agreement against his ear, his brown curls rustling from your air. 

Then he moved and those sighs turned into hard and fast moans, as you held him like an anchor as he thrusted deep into you. 

There was no holding back. For either for you. The pace was unrelenting as your breath mingled together, praise falling from his lips, his name as a moan from yours. 

As he filled you, his hands traveled along your body, worshipping every inch of skin he could reach, reassuring kisses placed on the nape of your collarbone, until his mouth inevitably found yours again, after years of wanting your lips, he refused to leave them alone. 

His hips drew every ounce of pleasure from you, drawing out slowly only to plunge back in. A sweet torture that had you trembling under him. A hand reached behind him to hold your thigh, pressing it against him to steady you as his clouded eyes watched your face twist with desire under him. He had never imagined how much it would undo him to watch you like this, as you both fell apart together. 

His grip tightens on your thigh, as he tries to still his thrusts, but you protest as your hips roll towards him again to push him deeper yourself. He lets out half of a laugh and half a moan. 

“Don’t hold back from me. Never again.” You breathe out in demand.

He presses back into you wholeheartedly as he promises you, “Never again.” 

The pace increases between you again, desperate, driving each other towards that cliff and your fingers grip his hair again in warning. Then, with a particularly deep thrust, your back starts arching off the ground as the wave inside of you builds around him.

“Seb-“ You gasp, unable to warn him but your muscles clench around him, almost refusing to let him leave your body. You bow under his movements, relishing and taking all he was giving you. 

“Fuck - I can feel you- I’m going to-“ His words are clipped, telling you he’s right there with you. 

Suddenly, his hands find yours, pinning them above your head, allowing him the leverage to thrust deeper into a broken and unrelenting rhythm that had your legs widening and hips rocking to meet him as he drew in and out. Your heated gaze locked on his as the rhythm of your shared pace caused the world to explode into stars around you.

You cry his name as your body combusts around him, he groans  a curse in response as your walls unforgivingly contract around his cock. Your name on his breath is a quick beat, between gasping breaths, until he shudders and falls against you, the hot feel of him filling you...and then the feel of him spilling out of you.

But his hips are won’t to stop, and he continues to move inside of you as your body milks every bit of his own orgasm, pushing through the mess of your juices spilling together between you. 

You both fight to catch your breath, and he looks at you in a way you had seen once before but thought you imagined. 

This time you don’t imagine it. 

He loves you. 

His hand gently cusps your cheek again, leaning his forehead against yours before pressing a tender kiss against your lips. 

As you kiss him back, you now you feel the same. He was a line you would cross again, and again, and again. 

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Just how powerful was Dumbledore, exactly? Was he so powerful that normal magical rules/laws don’t apply to him (at times), or was he powerful but not above anything; he was just a very skilled wizard? 

Also, do you think Harry is as powerful as Dumbledore or could be if he practiced? And do you think Harry is above your average kind of wizard, as in, he might not be that powerful yet, but he definitely has done the impossible and broken some magical laws? 

Btw, when I say magical laws, I mean the laws in which a spell (or something magical) should work and is designed to work. So with Harry, I’m asking if he excels at doing magic in a way that wasn’t supposed to happen and that should’ve probably been impossible to do. If any of that makes sense.

I think I mentioned Harry not always obeying the laws of magic here, here, and here. Basically, he is incredibly magically powerful by sheer raw magical talent. He can just, kinda bend spells to work to suit his needs (Levitation charm to ward off projectiles, a Stinging Hex to get out of Snape's Legilemancy attack, Shield Charm/Disarming Charm to though an opponent back, whatever he does against the Imperius Curse, etc). This is something I think is incredibly rare and saved for very few wizards and witches but not necessarily for the reasons you might think.

I mentioned here how I believe magic works. And in general, intention is more important than anything else, it means that a strong enough will and a clear enough intention in your mind is enough to bend the laws of magic. But all wizards are essentially being conditioned into not casting with just their intention because of how risky it is. If you don't use incantations, runes, or potions to dictate to your magic what to do, your magic is likely to be unpredictable. Just like we see with accidental underage magic.

So, while how much you can push magic and what you can accomplish like that is dictated by your power levels, anyone could theoretically bend spells to their whims. Assuming they are willing to be a little unpredictable and have a strong enough force of will.

And while I think Dumbledore is exceptionally talented and powerful I think, in his case, a lot of what makes him as formidable as he is comes down to skill and knowledge. Dumbledore is the brightest wizard of his age the same way Hermione is the brightest witch of her age.

Hermione is undoubtedly talented and gifted in magic, getting spells correctly first in the class more often than not. This she does along with very intensive study of basically any area of magic she can. But, unlike Harry, she can't disobey the laws of magic, not because she doesn't have the magical power, but because she doesn't have the will.

Hermione is rigid, controlled, and by-the-book in her magic, the thought of working magic differently from how the books say it works wouldn't even cross her mind. She just doesn't have that kind of intuitive magic the way Harry does, and she's aware of it:

“Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.” “I’m not as good as you,” said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him. “Me!” said Hermione. “Books! And cleverness! There are more important things — friendship and bravery and — oh Harry — be careful!”

(PS, 206-207)

Yes, she mentions friendship and bravery, but I think even this early on Hermione noticed Harry has an intuitive grasp on magic she doesn't. Even when he isn't aware of it.

Dumbledore, with all his silly antics later in life, I think is much more like Hermione in his approach to magic, at least he used to be. I believe most of his life Dumbledore approached magic in this more controlled and structured way. From what we hear from him, it appears he didn't have much faith in Divination (one of the least controlled, most freeform fields of magic) until he witnessed a prophecy firsthand, again, very much like Hermione:

“I did,” said Dumbledore. “On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the bar at the Hog’s Head Inn. I had gone there to see an applicant for the post of Divination teacher, though it was against my inclination to allow the subject of Divination to continue at all. The applicant, however, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous, very gifted Seer, and I thought it common politeness to meet her. I was disappointed. It seemed to me that she had not a trace of the gift herself. I told her, courteously I hope, that I did not think she would be suitable for the post. I turned to leave.”

(OotP, 840)

I think, after Trewlany's prophecy and especially after Lily's sacrificial magic he started rethinking of the nature of magic and how spells can be cast by just one's intention. I believe he researched the subject greatly in the years leading up to the books, and during them, but I don't think he ever shook his earlier approach fully. Especially when you consider what happened to Ariana. Ariana's magic was uncontrolled and based on intention alone that she couldn't grasp and Dumbledore saw this kind of magic destroy his family firsthand. I think Dumbledore would've been very wary of trying out such magic himself. The spells and magic we see Dumbledore cast and work with are based on study and knowledge even when he looks for traces of magic in the locket's cave, it doesn't feel like mere intuition to me, but like something he learned to do, something he put the effort into studying:

Dumbledore was standing in the middle of the cave, his wand held high as he turned slowly on the spot, examining the walls and ceiling. “Yes, this is the place,” said Dumbledore. “How can you tell?” Harry spoke in a whisper. “It has known magic,” said Dumbledore simply. Harry could not tell whether the shivers he was experiencing were due to his spine-deep coldness or to the same awareness of enchantments. He watched as Dumbledore continued to revolve on the spot, evidently concentrating on things Harry could not see.

(HBP, 557-558)

This above scene kinda illustrates the difference I'm talking about between Harry's intuitive approach and Dumbledore's learned skill. Dumbledore, who learned and studied how to sense traces of magic, lifts his wand, casting wandlessly to pick up the traces and learn more about them. Harry, on the other hand, feels a spine-deep cold that he associates with his awareness of magic. Because Harry describes magic feeling in various ways throughout the books, even magic just washing over him momentarily, so Harry just expects to feel enchantments this way. Unfortunately, we don't know if other wizards feel magic the way Harry does, but it shows the way he approaches magic, how he just expects to be able to sense enchantments Dumbledore needs to put active effort into locating because that's how he learned to do it.

Now, I think Dumbledore has a strong enough force of will (and he's definitely powerful enough) to cast magic with his intention alone, I just think he learned to be so incredibly well-controlled with his magic that it isn't really going to happen.

[k2ntoss]

do you… perchancely keep writing for… john as a mentor

(this is me)

i mean if you are can you write headcanons? how he would be? feel free to ignore i guess😔😔

okay can i fucking kiss you????? I THOUGHT I'D NEVER GET TO THIS DAY AND I MISSED MENTOR!JOHN I STOPPED WRITING BC I WASN'T SURE SOMEONE WOULD LIKE IT IF I CONTINUED AAAAAAAAAA

welcome to new mentor!john constantine headcanons from your local delusional girlie <3 i was craving this so... really self indulgent :3

��� mentor!john constantine who at first is strictly against having you as his apprentice, the man says he can't deal with brats but deep down he just doesn't want to get attached

⭒ mentor!john constantine who lets you stay with him after you follow him for weeks and start to catch up with his tricks, you suddenly know how to sneak into the same old and haunted buildings and he turns around fast af when he hears you start muttering an ancient exorcism

⋆ mentor!john constantine who in the end gets attached to you because he sees a part of him in you and he gets a flash of what he could've been if only he had someone to rely on, because john has a small faint trace of dad instincts in him that makes him protective in his own jerk-ish way

⭒ mentor!john constantine who brings you new ocultism books and also whatever he finds about what you like about magic and supernatural stuff, he feeds the curiosity and eagerness to learn in the safest way he knows because there's no way he'll risk it letting you try something you know nothing about

⋆ mentor!john constantine who gets drunk very often and yaps about everything he has lived, telling you long ass stories about rituals and exorcisms he has done before he starts rambling about the most hilarious shit non-magic related he did, by the year you've spend by his side you have a lot of blackmail material on him

⭒ mentor!john constantine who stops seeing you lile his apprentice and most like his child, he knows you found him covered in some nasty ghosty goo in an alley but he feels like you're his kid and deep down he thanks every deity he knows for your company and for the fact that he's been able to take care of you and viceversa, he thanks the opportunity of being cared for too

⋆ mentor!john constantine who not only teaches you magic but also how to drink without passing out and how to play music, he indulges that part when he sees how much of him has grown into you like c'mon it's too easy to pick up his traits and be kind of a mini-me, he also has allowed you to smoke a little but not like him

⭒ mentor!john constantine who almost passed out the first time you accidentally called him dad while he was driving for a case, it took him at least an hour and in mid-mission he spuns around "did you really called me dad, kid?" and even if he sounds a bit annoyed you can see the glint of anticipation on his eyes "you've been acting like my old-man for a year, is that so weird?" and despite being scared of getting even more attached he adores having a little weird family

⋆ mentor!john constantine who almost spat a lung the day you asked him to get matching tattoos but accepted at the end bc it was bonding with his kid... he ended up with a cat in a witch hat inked on his forearm along with the runes scattered all over his skin and he knew damn well you'd ask him if you could get the same when the time came

⭒ mentor!john constantine who has a fucking field day when you start to mess with chas, john is always there telling you what you can say and laughs out loud when you start nagging at his best friend because once again, he sees himself in you but this time it's a better version of himself and he wishes you can stay like that forever

[inawickedlittletown]

Dragon Chosen (BuckTommy fic) - 5/6

Summary:

In a world where dragons exist and where they pick their riders, Buck doesn't expect his perfectly normal Tuesday to include a dragon and his rider, Tommy, showing up to ask for his help with an injured dragon…a dragon that has picked Buck as his rider. Buck doesn't know who captivates him more his new dragon or Tommy.

Rating: M

Words: 3.8k

Ao3

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

-

Chapter Five

“They don’t want us to do anything,” Eddie said. “They’re going to take care of finding her. They asked that I put up some barriers around your property that can alert you if she shows up again.” 

Tommy should have expected that. The Dragon Guild was not to be trifled with. They would find her and take care of her as the threat that she was to young dragons. If she was a witch from a coven, then her coven would get involved too. Tommy had no doubt that they would take care of it. 

“They didn’t seem too worried,” Eddie added, looking towards Evan. 

“Do you know what would have happened if she came while Cyra and I were here?” Tommy asked. 

Eddie shook his head. Evan even looked like he wasn’t entirely sure of the answer. 

“She would be ashes,” Tommy said. 

In his mind, Cyra agreed. 

“Oh,” Eddie said. “She’s powerful, though, I’m sure she prepared for that.” 

Tommy nodded. “The point is the guild knows Cyra can take care of herself. Gwyn is young, but he is still a dragon and now that he’s bonded he isn’t as vulnerable as the last time she attacked.” 

Even if the witch had been wearing protection runes or enchantments, Tommy knew she wouldn’t have gotten away. It was interesting, in a way, that she had shown up at all. It could be coincidence, but Tommy doubted it. Had she known that he and Cyra weren’t there? 

“I just…I just wish we knew why she was after all that power,” Evan said. 

“Does it matter? She hurt Gwyn and came after him again,” Tommy said. 

You know who he is, Cyra said in his mind. He’s compassionate and curious.

And he had a relationship with her

Cyra sent her amusement. Jealousy doesn’t look cute even on you.

“Probably nothing good,” Eddie said. “Attaining power like that taints it and nothing good could ever come of it. From how dark her leftover magic felt, I wonder if she hadn’t already gone something similar to get that power.” 

It left a bad taste in Tommy’s mouth to think that this witch had been out there gaining power for herself by unnatural means. He hoped that her power wasn’t a result of another young dragon’s death or a forced bond. 

By the time that Eddie and Chris left, Tommy felt exhausted. Although Eddie had said yes to the guild about putting up barriers, he’d still needed help. So, while Evan went inside to cook them all food, he, Eddie, and Cyra went to the perimeters of the property. 

“Why aren’t you a practicing witch?” Tommy asked. “I mean, you’re powerful as far as I can tell.” 

“I wasn’t always,” Eddie admitted. “I grew up in Texas and my parents are leaders of the coven. My dad wanted me to follow in his footsteps but I was never powerful enough for them and when some things happened I decided to come out here with Chris instead.” 

“And he’s not a witch?” Tommy asked. 

Eddie didn’t respond for a while, concentrating on the barrier and the connection it needed to have to Tommy. Cyra for her part, bent her head to touch Eddie’s shoulder and Tommy felt the way that she shared some of her own magic to bolster Eddie. 

“He could be,” Eddie said. “His mother was human. My parents wanted to start teaching him, but it’s not innate for him. I can barely feel any magic in him and I don’t want him to be disappointed, but sometimes he does do some accidental things. I guess I’m waiting to see if his magic grows with him or not.” 

After they were done, they ate the lasagna that Evan had made. It was nice to have Eddie and Chris around and Tommy couldn’t wait to have them over again especially since Chris seemed so eager to see Cyra and Gwyn again. 

“Are you as tired as I am?” Tommy asked Evan. 

Evan shook his head. “You’re definitely more tired, but I don’t want to do anything for the rest of the day either.” 

Despite that, Evan didn’t join him in the living room after they finished cleaning the kitchen. Instead, Tommy heard him head outside. Curious, he followed. 

Gwyn and Cyra were out on the grass. Cyra’s massive body curled up around the smaller dragon. She was asleep, but Gwyn was not. Tommy watched from the house as Evan approached his dragon. He didn’t spend too long with him before he turned and headed back. 

“Oh,” Evan said when he saw him. “I just wanted to check with him again. He’s still shaken by everything.” 

“Who could blame him,” Tommy said. 

“Yeah. I’m a little shaken too,” Evan admitted. 

Tommy grabbed his hand, pulling him closer. 

“I always knew she wasn’t a good person,” Evan said. “Taylor, I mean. When I first met her I was in a bad place and then the second time she was in a bad place and we kinda…I guess it was more about having someone else there but fundamentally we disagreed on everything. Then Lucy kissed me and I didn’t stop it or tell Taylor and she never told me she was a witch. I guess we never communicated well. Or at all.” 

Tommy wrapped his arms around Evan and he felt Evan lean into him and wrap his own arms around him. 

“We’ve all made bad decisions,” Tommy offered. 

“Yeah,” Evan said with a hum. “I suppose so.” 

“Good ones too,” Tommy said. 

“Yeah?” 

“Evan, I have many regrets, but you aren’t one. Inviting you to stay here, getting to know you, having you in my bed, it’s been kinda amazing.”

Evan pulled back enough so that he could look at Tommy and Tommy was surprised to see the awe in his face, as if he somehow hadn’t expected for Tommy to feel that way. There was vulnerability there that was almost a bit shocking with how forward Evan had been with him, but Tommy could understand that. 

“I don’t want it to end,” Tommy admitted. “We haven’t talked about it, but I want this — us — to mean something.” 

Evan’s smile grew and he leaned forward, pulling Tommy into a kiss that was sweet and soft and that ended as quick as it started. 

“It does mean something,” Evan said. “Maybe even everything.” 

—

The Dragon Guild couldn’t find Taylor. A whole three weeks after she had shown up searching for Gwyn and they had nothing. Apparently Taylor had abandoned her job, not been at her apartment in months, and she didn’t seem to actually have any friends. Evan had confirmed her lack of friends and even how the witch rarely spoke about her family. 

“They think her name is not actually Taylor Kelly,” Tommy told him. 

“Really,” Evan said. “I guess that tracks.” 

Tommy bumped his shoulder. “We’re not going to worry about it unless she shows up here again.” 

He didn’t add that the guild was very worried about younger dragons and Taylor possibly switching her attempts at finding another young dragon. Although the dragon population had dropped some, there were still quite a few dragons. Dragons and their riders were taking turns guarding the spaces where young dragons resided. Tommy was the only one not going out there because they preferred he stayed close to Gwyn though there had been talk of maybe persuading a couple of the dragons to go and stay with them as well. Tommy was open to the idea. 

He and Evan walked out to where Gwyn and Cyra could be found right on the grass. Gwyn was stretching his wings out. Cyra was splayed out next to him almost lazily. She looked up when he and Evan approached and turned so she was still low to the ground, but ready to stand. 

He’s ready

Wouldn’t stop him if he wasn’t. 

You’re not wrong.

Gwyn dropped his wings down at their approach and he immediately turned to Evan. 

“Come on,” Tommy said, grabbing Evan’s hand. 

Evan got onto Cyra first and Tommy joined him. Evan’s arms came around him at once and he felt Evan nosing into his neck and hair before he dropped a kiss to Tommy’s shoulder. 

Gwyn pushed off first, wings beating fast as he got himself into the air. Cyra followed a moment later. Tommy could feel Gwyn’s joy even if not directly. Evan laughed against him. 

“He feels so happy,” he said. 

“Dragons are supposed to be in the air,” Tommy reminded him. 

Gwyn flew upwards. Cyra kept herself a bit below him and for a while they were all just up in the air without any real direction. Gwyn seemed intent on just doing anything and everything he could in the sky. He did twists and dropped and went back up. He dove down and lifted up at the last moment. 

“I love seeing him like that,” Evan said against Tommy’s ear. 

“Me too,” Tommy said. “And just wait until you can be on his back.” 

Evan let out a nervous sigh. “Is it bad how nervous that makes me?” 

“In what way?” 

“I guess here on Cyra I’m with you. I can’t imagine doing it on my own.” 

Tommy found Evan’s hand on his stomach. “You’ll do just fine when the time comes. Don’t worry.” 

Evan relaxed against him. Gwyn was flying back towards the house when Tommy felt the jolt from the barrier. Taylor was back. 

“Evan, she’s here.” 

Bypassing Evan entirely, he shouted to Gwyn. Don’t go down. 

Cyra snarled and Tommy felt her annoyance and how she was reigning in her anger. 

“What do we do?” Evan asked. 

Cyra did her part by reaching out to see if any other dragons were nearby — they weren’t. Tommy fumbled for his phone tucked into a pocket that was too tight specifically to keep his phone from flying out while in the air. If the witch hadn’t seen them yet, she would soon. 

Tommy finally got his phone out. He made the call. No one answered. He tried again. No answer again. He left a message. 

“No luck?” Evan asked. 

“No,” Tommy said and he felt Evan reaching for his own phone. 

“Eddie,” he heard Evan say. “She’s here. We can’t get ahold of the guild.” 

The call didn’t last long. 

“What did he say?” 

“Bobby is contacting dispatch,” Evan said. “And they’re coming our way.” 

It could have been easy for them to just leave even if he wasn’t sure what Eddie and the 118 might be able to do. Eddie wasn’t powerful enough of his own, but if they had another witch maybe. 

The part of him that wanted to protect Evan and Gwyn and Cyra didn’t want to go confront her. He wanted to fly away and come back once they knew she was gone. He couldn’t do that, though. Not when she was a danger to more dragons. There were so few already and they couldn’t afford to lose any more. 

We can take her.

I know. Don’t burn her to a crisp unless necessary. 

Cyra sent back her amusement and agreement. 

—

He could feel Gwyn’s worry. His fear. It was such a switch from the excitement that he’d been feeling from his dragon and yet he understood it. He hadn’t expected for Taylor to return, though at least this meant she hadn’t left California. Buck didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. 

“I guess it’s up to us,” Tommy said. 

Cyra began her descent and Gwyn followed close behind. Buck was shocked when Cyra actually opened her mouth and shot out fire into the air. It was more of a warning than anything else. Looking down was dizzying with how fast they were moving, but he thought that he actually saw the distinctive red hair. The closer they got, the easier it was to see her and when Cyra touched down, Buck could even hear her. Cyra made a point of flapping her wings in Taylor’s direction. 

Taylor almost toppled back. She seemed to be mouthing something. A spell, Buck thought. Buck couldn’t worry about that. Gwyn had landed and he rushed forward, wings out and roaring. Fire shot out going right towards Taylor. Despite how direct it was, the fire just went around her. 

Taylor took a few steps back. She had to know that she wouldn’t hold her own against two dragons even if one of them wasn’t fully grown. Buck did see a problem in that Taylor was rather close to the house and it was in danger of catching fire if Cyra’s fire went too close to it. 

“I think maybe I should talk to her,” Buck said. 

“What?” Tommy asked. “No, that’s insane.” 

“What’s insane is thinking we can get through this without your whole house going up in flames and Taylor getting away. It’ll take them at least ten more minutes to get here. We have to stall. She won’t be expecting to see me.” 

Buck didn’t like it and Tommy didn’t have to either. Tommy actually grabbed onto Buck’s hand before he could let go and it wasn’t, as he expected, as some kind of reassurance, as much as because he placed a ring on the middle finger of Buck’s left hand. It fit a little loose, but Buck could feel the power in the ring.

“What—”

“It’s protection,” Tommy said. “I don’t like this, but if you must then you’ll wear that.” 

Buck had never seen the ring before, he realized, couldn’t remember ever seeing Tommy wear it. It had to have something to it that kept it hidden. Sure enough when he looked at his hand, he could feel it on his hand, but he couldn’t actually see it. Cyra didn’t lower herself for him, but that didn’t matter because she gave him a way down her back. 

Be careful, little one Cyra said. Don’t do anything stupid.

Evan, what are you doing? Don’t…don’t go Gwyn said it complete with panic that nearly made Buck want to stop and turn and go to Gwyn. He couldn’t.

I’ll be okay. Trust me, Gwyn.

Fine. I don’t like it, though.

I know.

He stepped around Cyra, but kept close to her. Taylor didn’t even notice him, not at first. She looked bad. She’d always been thin, but she looked like she’d gotten even thinner. Her face was gaunt, cheeks sunken in. Her eyes looked wild too. He could feel her magic and it felt wrong, corrupted. 

“Buck,” she said and even her voice sounded rough. 

“Taylor,” he said and then didn’t know what else to say, so he kind of stared at her. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked and she seemed to have a hard time looking away from Cyra. 

“I should be asking you that,” Buck said, “seeing as you’re trespassing and these dragons aren’t taking that very well.” 

Taylor’s eyes flitted to Cyra and then Gwyn and she took a nervous step back. “I’m — I was—”

“And you didn’t tell me you were a witch,” Buck said and he took a step towards her. “What’s going on, Taylor?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” she said, snappish. 

Buck could feel Gwyn’s worry, but he couldn’t actually focus on that. 

“What I do understand,” he said, eyeing Taylor, “is that you tried to force a bond with a young unbonded dragon. What I don’t understand is why. He almost died, Taylor.”

Taylor inhaled a breath. “Buck, you…what are you doing here? You can’t be here.” 

She looked like a cornered mouse and Cyra looking down at her was the cat. He almost felt pity for her, until he remembered that his dragon had been hurt by her and that Taylor had come here for the second time searching for Gwyn. 

“No, what are you after here? The dragon? He’s bonded now, you can’t have him. You can’t have any dragon that hasn’t chosen you.” 

Taylor looked like she was seconds away from attacking him. She looked angry and Buck could feel the way that that anger actually fueled her magic. Something stopped her and she began to laugh. 

“You,” she said, “you’re a dragon rider.” 

Buck didn’t deny it. 

Taylor rushed towards him. Buck stepped back and she stopped. “Help me,” she said. “You and your dragon. You can help me.” She looked towards Cyra and then Buck with something akin to expectation. 

“Help you,” Buck said. “I don’t think so.” 

Her face hardened. She looked crazed and Buck knew enough to know that if someone was that desperate they really had nothing left to lose. Suddenly, he didn’t know if this was Taylor just trying to get power for herself. Maybe it was bigger than her, but that didn’t matter when she was the one that had attacked Gwyn. She was selfish and self-serving and Buck had always known that, but he was seeing a different side to that. 

They’re almost here, Gwyn said. 

“Wrong answer,” Taylor said and the next thing Buck knew was the feel of her magic and how it stretched out towards him. 

The ring on his hand began to heat up. It grew so hot that Buck thought it was actually burning into her finger. He heard Gwyn say his name and the sound of sirens. Fire flew right over his head, he felt the heat and heard the way that Cyra roared. Taylor cried out. The ring was hot until it wasn’t, going from hot to cold in seconds. Buck was pushed backwards and he hit something solid. Someone was yelling his name, he thought it was Tommy. 

—

Tommy was tense the whole time Evan was talking to the witch. He could hear them and didn’t know that he appreciated Evan’s stalling tactics. Cyra was keeping Gwyn in line, but just barely. When she actually pointed out rightly that Evan was a dragon rider, Tommy knew that things could only go badly. He couldn’t wait for Eddie to come and he couldn’t expect for Eddie to be enough to make any kind of difference. 

Can you hear the 118?

I think so. What do you want to do? 

He wanted to get down there and grab Evan and put him back on Cyra and fly him away. It was not an option. Obviously. 

Tommy could feel it, the moment that she shot a spell at Evan. The ring did its work, keeping Evan from harm. It did throw him back right into Cyra. Before he could even think about it, Tommy was dropping down from Cyra’s back.

“Evan!” he cried out. 

 Gwyn was shooting fire at the witch and while the first few bursts didn’t hit, the last one did and she dropped to the ground, spelling the fire away. Gwyn didn’t wait, going over Evan right to the witch and literally pinning her to the ground. 

Don’t roast her, Cyra said to Gwyn, connecting the three of them. 

We need her alive, Gwyn. She’ll face what’s coming to her.

I want to tear her head from her body and charr her remains, Gwyn said back. 

I don’t disagree with you, but we need her alive. We need answers and she needs to pay for what she’s done. Cyra’s voice was steady, but Tommy could hear the protectiveness in it and the way that she fought her very nature. 

Tommy made it to Evan’s side. He’d fallen right against Cyra’s legs. She’d cushioned his fall as best as she could but between being thrown and the effects of the ring, it wasn’t surprising he was passed out. Tommy could see that he was breathing and he was sure that he was fine, because if he wasn’t Gwyn would have torn the witch apart. His restraint was admirable. 

Tommy still pressed his fingers to Evan’s neck and he lowered him onto his back. 

“Evan, can you hear me?” 

He touched Evan’s face and then grabbed his hand. The ring was glowing a little. The spell had worked. He couldn’t think of what might have happened if he didn’t put the ring on Evan. 

Gwyn snarled. Tommy heard the witch make a whimpering noise and then Gwyn snorted, a puff of smoke hit the witch and she should be glad it was that and not flames. 

The sound of the sirens distracted him from Evan and then he heard the familiar voices of Hen, Chim, Eddie, and Bobby among others. Tommy was reluctant to leave Evan, but he did when Hen’s hand landed on his shoulder. 

“What happened?” she asked. 

“Spell was cast at him, he was wearing a protective charm. Knocked him into Cyra, but he’s breathing. Pulse is steady.” 

He could see her running his own checks and he was too focused on that to see what else was happening. Eddie and a younger guy he’d never met were standing by Gwyn looking down at the witch. Tommy saw Bobby approach them. He was torn between going to them or staying with Evan. 

Eddie calling his name made him reluctantly walk in their direction. Hen gave him a reassuring smile. 

Taylor Kelly was under one of Gwyn’s legs, his talons pointed at her chest. Gwyn was reluctant to step back and Tommy didn’t blame him. The witch seemed to be holding herself completely still other than her eyes which flitted from the dragon and then to Eddie. 

“What happened?” Eddie asked. 

“Evan decided to talk to her. She tried to use a spell on him and when Evan was thrown back Gwyn burst through her protective barriers with fire and then jumped on her.” 

Tommy reached out and placed a hand on Gwyn’s neck, rubbing up and down. Gwyn leaned into it, but he never looked away from Taylor. 

“We’ll need to seal her magic,” the guy Tommy didn’t know said. “It’s wild. Dark.”

“Tainted,” Eddie said. “I know.” 

Eddie turned to Tommy, then. “The guild did finally pick up. It’s a busy day, apparently, though they didn’t tell me why seeing as I’m not a rider.”

“Of course,” Tommy said. “Can you and—”

“Ravi,” Eddie said.

Ravi was currently crouched down, hands on the ground next to the witch.  

“Can you and Ravi do this on your own?” 

Eddie nodded.

Meanwhile, Evan was being put on a stretcher. He was still passed out, but his chest rose and fell. 

“He’s fine,” Hen said. 

“Magically exhausted,” Chim said. “So he’ll sleep for a while. A few hours, but it could be more.” 

Tommy reached out for Evan, hands landing on his left arm. He was warm and he was breathing and his heart was beating. When he looked back at the witch, it seemed like Eddie and Ravi were already getting to work. Cyra was watching them carefully. 

“Are you taking him to the hospital?” Tommy asked. 

“Not necessary,” Chim said. “We should get him inside, though. He’ll sleep for a while.” 

“I can do that,” Tommy said, “just open the door.”

Evan wasn’t light, but Tommy knew he was strong enough, so he slipped his hands under Evan, made sure that his head rested on his shoulder and he followed Chim towards the house and then up to his bedroom. Chim didn’t say a word as Tommy put him down. 

“Got it from here?” Chim asked. 

Tommy barely nodded, incapable of tearing his eyes from Evan. He took off Evan’s shoes, socks, pants, light jacket, and shirt, leaving him in his underwear. He tucked Evan in that way and lingered a few more moments before he leaned over and kissed Evan right on his birthmark.

[dame-zoom-a-lot]

CommonSenseNotFoundError

Written for @metalsandwichbingo: prompt B3 - Double Penetration

Rating: EXPLICIT

Word Count : 2.3k

Major Tags: Double Penetration, Spitroasting, Voyeurism, Modern Magic AU, No Upside-down AU

beta: @runraerun Inspired by: thisusernameisunavailable's The Barbarian, the Bard, and the Sorceror Read on A03 or down below. Explicit under the cut Eddie holds his breath as he watches smoke swirl in his orb. It’s getting his prophecies from the ether, now it just has to connect to the prophecy interpreter he built. The smoke is starting to clear. The prophecy is in the orb now. Now it just has to pipe into his tool, and he’ll finally be able to help people read the future in plain, easier-to-understand English. Eddie hunches over the orb, now glowing purple. His desk is messy, cluttered with random guidance scrolls and magic ingredients. He nearly knocks over a vial of his blood as he moves to clutch the orb, as if squeezing it would make the calculations go any faster.

The orb glows red. The last thing it shows before fading back to black is ‘No permission to view the prophecy’.

Eddie screams into his hands. He used his blood to give the divination supplementary guide library permission to read his oracles. This was supposed to work. He’s been at this for hours and he’s one more stupid, nonsensical error message away from throwing this stupid orb against the wall.

Something makes a light thump and squeaking sound in the spell repository upstairs and Eddie jumps. He tries to shift focus back on his divination spell. The individual pieces aren’t hard to work with, but he’s still having trouble getting the auto-explainer to actually access the stupid prophecies. He really doesn’t want to show up to tomorrow’s sync meeting empty handed.

There’s another thunk , and what Eddie’s pretty sure is a small whimper of pain.

Eddie glowers at the ceiling. Stupid sexy Harrington. He’s the reason Eddie’s alone in the office during witching hour. If that stupid, talented asshole hadn’t come up with his self-guarding enchanted scrolls, Eddie would have been able to leave guarding the repository up to the squad of wyrm riders the company used to have on site 24/7. Now he ’s going to have to go up there to free whatever poor schmuck decided to steal the company secrets. As if there was anything up there worth stealing. It was all just poorly cobbled together runes that worked just well enough to not accidentally turn someone inside out. Why couldn’t Harrington consider that Eddie is always the last to leave, way late because he can’t figure out the art of waking up before noon?

Eddie sighs and contemplates letting the intruder stay up there until morning. But, no one deserves to literally die by a thousand paper cuts. He grabs his employee stone and trudges upstairs, telling himself that he’ll be safe. He saw those books in action. Logically, he should be more worried for the thief. Assuming that the scrolls wouldn’t think that he’s also an intruder that is.

Eddie climbs up the ladder to the repositories. He hears that whimper again when he has just two rungs to go.

“Billy…” the person whines. The voice is strangely familiar.

“Stop pulling away ,” a low voice grunts. The floors squeak again. There’s a sound of feet thumping on the floor then a slap of skin on skin.

“But my neck hurts,” the whiner replies, high and breathy and beautiful. Eddie really should head back down, go home, and pretend he saw nothing or the next office pizza party is going to get real awkward. But he goes up one more rung instead.

“Well, try tilting your head back then,” the low voice growls again. There’s a loud clap of hands on skin.

Eddie finishes climbing into the repository and sneaks his way towards the voices like he’s in a trance. He scrambles to think of excuses in case he gets caught. Maybe they’re fucking by some documentation on how to handle read permissions for prophecies. Besides, he’s like, dedicated to magic. Maybe he doesn’t even remember what sex sounds like, so he thought they were just… exercising or something, in the repositories, past midnight.

They’re going to know. That he’s just a nosy, horny little shit who had to see.

They finally come into view, two men fucking doggy-style in a cleared out section of the repository. Eddie clamps his hand over his mouth to stifle his moan. He can see them from the back. A blond man is on his knees, fucking into another man who’s on all fours. Eddie can see the man’s ass bouncing as he gets fucked. It’s so thick and defined that Eddie’s fingers involuntarily twitch with the desire to touch . The blond man looks like someone who can move boulders. His back muscles ripple as he pounds into his partner. The blond is leaning over, trying to fishhook his fingers into his bottom’s mouth, but the angle is all wrong. Eddie creeps to get a closer view, preferably from the side, and accidentally steps on one of their belts. It clinks. Both men whip their heads around.

The bottom is Steve Harrington.

“Oh, errr… fancy seeing you here! I see you’re also burning the midnight oil. I was err… just about to head home,” Eddie squeaks. “And uh, new guy right? Welcome to the family! Happy to answer any questions you might have. Anyway. I should… uhmm…” Eddie looks around desperately for a plausible excuse. He grabs a random scroll by the belt he’d just stepped on. “Ah! Great! Found what I was looking for. Good night fellas,” he does an awkward, terrible wave and walks away backwards.

“What do you want with my training notes?” The blond man asks, cock still deep in Harrington. He’s smirking. His bright blue eyes glint even in the dim light of the repository. He starts moving in and out, stroking Harrington’s back. His perfect, red tongue darts out across his lips.

“Oh, shit, sorry. I didn’t—” Eddie drops the scroll like it’s on fire , eyes still on the pair. The blond strokes Harrington’s cock, who whines and pushes his ass deeper into the blond. Eddie stares at the thick curve of Harrington’s ass as it bounces against the stranger’s abs, stares at the veins on the blond man's forearms as he roughly tugs Harrington’s shaft. Eddie stops himself from cupping his own crotch to relieve some of the tension, but he’s pretty sure they can see the tent in his trousers.

“Like what you see?” The blond asks with a sharp slap to Harrington’s ass. “Eddie Munson, right?”

“Billy!” Steve squawks.

“You know my name?” Eddie asks, stepping towards the two like he’s under a trance, which, speaking of… is this because of the books? Is he hallucinating right now as millions of sharp paper edges shred him into pieces?

“’Course. Pretty boy here wouldn’t shut up about you. ‘Eddie transformed a rat into a unicorn back into a rat. Eddie figured out why we kept accidentally turning people into newts. Do you think Eddie knows my work? When will Eddie ever notice me?’” The blond, apparently Billy, says in a high falsetto, batting his lashes. Eddie feels flames on his face. Steve’s entire body is bright red. “Look,” Billy continues. “You can just walk away. I’m not going to chase you. Or…”

“Or?” Eddie asks, licking his lips.

“You could help us out. Fill this pretty mouth. Hard to get both holes from this angle.”

“What?”

“I need you to stick your dick in his mouth,” Billy says slowly, rolling his eyes. “You need a demonstration?”

Eddie pauses, frozen under Billy’s cocky gaze. Steve looks at him shyly, as if he’s afraid of rejection. Seeing Steve’s mix of hope and nervousness gives Eddie the courage he needs to step forward. He watches his feet move, one in front of the other, until he’s standing in front of Steve’s flushed face. He kneels and raises a shaking hand to Steve’s jawline. Steve closes his eyes and leans into his palm, long lashes casting a feathery shadow over his flushed cheeks. Fuck. Eddie clenches his thighs.

“That what you want? Steve?” Eddie asks.

“Please,” Steve whines.

Eddie hesitates. With Steve’s eyes closed, he’s not sure he’s not in trance, or drugged the old-fashioned way. Steve frowns at the slight stutter of Eddie’s palm and opens his eyes, clear, lucid, steely. “Please,” Steve says again, sounding more like the Harrington Eddie knows from work.

“You heard the man,” Billy says from behind.

Eddie scrambles up and pulls his trousers off. He almost cums at the relief of letting his hard cock get some air. Eddie gasps when Steve reaches out a hand to grab him by the balls, dragging him towards his mouth. Steve’s mouth finds his dick, then starts to sink down, slowly at first, then suddenly all at once. Eddie makes a mortifying choked sound when his cock hits the back of Steve’s warm, wet throat. Steve moans appreciatively, and the vibrations of his mouth somehow makes Eddie even harder. He didn’t think that was possible .

“Fuck his throat. He likes that,” Billy says, thrusting hard enough from the back to move Steve back and forth on Eddie’s dick. Steve nods vigorously, drool pooling around the side of his mouth.

“Ah, ahh… so you, ok, so you and I thrust at the, ah, the same time, get him feeling nice and, oh god yes, just like that, full top and bottom, and we pull out in sync, fuuckk, Steve you’re gonna make me finish, ah, give him a little break?” Eddie babbles as Steve attempts to suck his brains out through his dick (and has very possibly succeeded). He puts a hand on Steve’s hair. Gods, it’s even softer than Eddie imagined. And he’d imagined a lot , to an embarrassing, potentially HR-summoning degree.

Billy grins. “You get it,” he says with an approving nod. “My boy here’s got good taste.”

Eddie’s stomach flips at the praise. He hopes he doesn’t sound as shaky as he feels. “Ok, on count of three…”

Steve’s lips and mouth spasm in what seems to be a choked giggle. Billy rolls his eyes, hopefully affectionately. “Sure, dork . We can time it.”

Eddie flips them both off and Billy laughs. “One, two… three!” Eddie thrusts into Steve’s throat as Billy thrusts from behind. Steve scream-groans as he’s momentarily squished between the two. “Again?” Eddie checks, stroking Steve’s hair. He nods so hard his hair bounces.

“Ok, one… two… three!” Another thrust. After a few more, Eddie and Billy find their rhythm without needing to verbally count. At some point, Billy started staring at Eddie as if he wants to memorize his face. Eddie realizes that he must have been staring too, and can you blame him? It’s a perfect face, tanned with bright blue eyes that soften occasionally. His blond curls swing back and forth, framing strikingly dark eyebrows that scrunch a little as Billy gets closer to climax. Steve makes all these noises under them, soft and pliant. Eddie plays with Steve’s nipples and scratches patterns into Steve’s back, relishing in the soft skin and muscles under his nails. Eddie watches Billy’s hands—his fingers are shorter, more utilitarian than he’d expected—gently cup and play with Steve’s dick and balls.

Steve cums first with a choked whine. Billy surges across Steve, kind of folding him in half, to crash his lips on Eddie’s. In his haze, Eddie wonders whether Billy didn’t want Eddie to see his orgasm face. But the feeling of Billy’s lips open in a little ‘o’ against his, the ragged pant of his breath is probably more revealing than Billy ever intended. Eddie orgasms so hard he feels tears on the edge of his eyes. Eddie strokes Billy’s face and mourns the loss of their closeness when they both pull out of Steve. Eddie resists the urge to flop on top of Steve and rub his face along the strong back and sniff up the scent Billy might have left behind. Billy totters over to a pile of clothes and pulls out two towels. He lays one on the floor then rolls Steve on top of it with surprising gentleness.

“Can I help?” Eddie asks. He knows this is probably his cue to leave. It’s not his place to help clean Steve up, to bring him gently back down to Earth from wherever he’d gone to. But he feels stupidly brave tonight—like anything’s possible.

“You want him to stick around Harrington? I’m fine either way,” Billy says with a shrug.

“Please stay,” Steve says quietly. Eddie takes his shirt off and uses that to gently wipe down Steve’s torso. Steve hums adorably, and somehow that sound is even better than his warm mouth around Eddie’s cock.

“Nice of you to not jizz, dong, ditch,” Billy says, wiping down Steve’s lower half with the second towel. “Unless you’re just gathering Harrington’s jizz on your shirt for spells or something?”

“No!” Eddie sputters. “Damn, man, I didn’t exactly get the heads up to prepare for this!” Steve giggles and strokes Eddie’s nose. Eddie blushes and continues wiping, making sure that he gets to touch every inch of Steve that he can. He might not get another chance and he’s not about to miss this chance. Eddie looks up at Billy, who’s been staring (what’s new) with a fond smile. “Err… thanks for letting me join. I… that was nice.”

“Yeah, it was,” Steve says as he sits up. He yanks Billy and Eddie into himself on either side. Eddie squeaks. Steve is much stronger than he’d expected. Billy laughs and lets himself get pulled in.

“So, it’s Billy, right??” Eddie asks, suddenly feeling a lot more optimistic that this might turn into an ongoing thing. And if it would be… no harm in getting to know this beautiful co-worker right? “What department are you with?”

“Ugh, as if I’d ever work at this dump.”

“What? So  you don’t have a stone? But the alarms!” Eddie squawks, whipping his head around in panic as he watches for a cloud of sharp-toothed scrolls.

Steve grins and puts a finger over Eddie’s lips, “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, you think I wouldn’t have carved out a backdoor?”

Eddie stares at Steve, who apparently invented a new, absolutely vicious way of guarding the repository all so he could get his dick wet on company time and property. Steve winks, and Eddie thinks he might fall in love.

[fluff-writing]

once again I am thinking about tyreal gets fired au

Plz imagine Tyrael trying to make a flower crown for Leah, but continuously messing it up cuz his fingers are huge and made of metal and he accidentally crushes the flowers. Leah doesn't mind though. Her hands are tiny and very good for weaving flowers, she just makes uncle Tyrael hold the blossoms while she works.

In very dire straights he would sometimes pick up Cain under one arm and Leah under the other like a pair of footballs and take off with them. Leah adored these moments, and it's probably what inspired her to enchant a broom for Witch Shenanigans.

I also think it's very important that everyone knows that TGF Tyrael is running some kind of hammers/foh/zeal mishmash pally build. He has a monarch shield and a flail, and goes on the occasional one-man Rampage of Justice whenever the fancy strikes him. His conviction is matched only by his concentration.

Tyrael and Cain were equally stumped by Leah's latent 'powers'. Neither of them ever quite found the right approach to channeling this power, and so they could only craft different pendants and runes to help her contain it. It wouldn't be until Inarius turned up and pointed out that she had demonic magic, which didn't obey the same rules as angelic or mortal magic, that they really started getting anywhere.

Despite all this, he did manage to teach her to cast Holy Bolt. So watch out.

Tyrael is of the opinion that a more dangerous Leah is a less vulnerable Leah. Cain is not sure if he agrees. Leah is just happy Uncle Deckard stopped sighing over her daggers.

Tyrael and Inarius are that high-level Pally+Sorc duo running all the chaos-runs. iykyk.

His relationship with the Angels of Heaven may never be quite the same after they banished him from his home, but Tyrael at least managed to find something on Sanctuary that he never could in the Heavens. He has a family now.

[pennyblossom-meta]

Thank you @maevearcher for the tag. Sounds like a fun prompt! :)

I'll approach this interview in the voice of my OC, Anna Green, from The Ides of April (Harry Potter x Death Note crossover).

---

OC Interview Game

01: Were you named after anyone? R: Some of the oldest Pureblood families in Britain have an almost obsessive inclination towards Astrology for its deep esoteric undertones, thus naming their children after constellations. Being an accidental half-blood myself due to 'tainted' maternal blood I wasn't given the honor of maintaining the tradition; in fact, I was told many times how my mother insisted that my name should reflect the duality of both worlds: magical and non-magical. In short, she made an extremely elaborate argument to justify naming me after her own mother. My other grandmother wasn't pleased in the least. And father agreed with everything mother said, without question.

02: When was the last time you cried? R: It wasn't at all a full cry, but the stress of getting kicked out of class (and dragged out by a Muggle, no less) definitely came close. I was this close to hexing someone — Hideki Ryuga will never know just how lucky he was that day.

03: Do you have any kids? R: Nope. Perhaps I'll give it a think after 40-ish; witches and wizards live well into their 100's, after all.

04: Do you use sarcasm a lot? R: Does the eagle fly?

05: What is the first thing you notice about people? R: Overall appearance is important. Bearing and demeanor can tell you a lot about someone's personality, though it's not nearly the most important thing to consider. And sometimes, it's really just an onion that you'll have to peel in your own time.

06: What is your eye color? R: Blue-green, depends on the light. Mildly appropriate given my surname.

07: Scary movies or happy endings? R: Never watched a movie before. But as a thought experiment, I'm fond of bittersweet endings for literary purposes.

08: Any special talents? R: An uncanny affinity with felines, in particular cats and Kneazles. I'm also rather good at sewing.

09: Where were you born? A few ways off Windsor, Britain.

10. Do you have any pets? R: An elderly Kneazle called Rufus and Percival, a lovely barn owl that Millicent got me for my 23rd birthday. They both bite.

11. What sort of sports do you play? R: I know how to ride a broom just fine. Playing sports would be a waste of my time.

12: How tall are you? R: Around 1,63m or 5'3.

13: What was your favorite subject in school? R: Ancient Runes and Herbology, the only two subjects I got an Outstanding during my N.E.W.T.S.

13: What is your dream job? R: For the whimsy I'd be keen to try Curse-Breaking for a year or two, though I'm sure it wouldn't go over too well. I'm better suited for less exciting work; perhaps I'll open a clothes shop in Diagon-Alley to compete with Madame Malkin. I'm sure Millie would badger me for a friends discount.

Super fun, as expected! I highly recommend this prompt :) No pressure tagging for @lunalit-river, @pinkcloss and @senualothbrok

[lynnarang]

The First Page

A doll whose body serves as conduit, reagent, and instruction for all of its witch's incantations. With countless sigils interwoven in its flesh, from lightning bottled in its arms to the recipe for its witch's favorite blend of tea, it was cursed to live as a walking spellbook.

The doll quickly grew used to shedding its clothes at its witch's command, rarely for anything lascivious but instead for the sake of their spellcraft. Each touch on its body was careful, like how one might handle an aging tome or a kettle full of boiling water.

These moments were always transactional and rarely afforded the doll more than a few fingers tracing lines upon its skin. Anything more would result in the accidental misfiring of one of the many spells etched upon its body, as evidenced by the short lifespan of their furniture.

How then, could the doll not grow hungry for touch that went beyond? How could it not hunger for a lover's hand pressed firmly upon its cheek or an angry fist buried deep in its stomach?

It was foolish, a doll's whimsy. After all, it could barely even sneeze without setting off the fireball rune on the roof of their mouth (Why had its witch placed it there of all places?!).

No, it was the doll's fate to know only the impassive touch of use and nothing more. But what of its witch? Its witch who used it as it pleased, neglectfully and audaciously? Wasn't it unfair that they had stored all that was dangerous in it while they remained unburdened?

Its witch barely took care to remember their own incantations, what with their handy doll at their beck and call... But the doll had been used like this for all of its existence. It knew each and every pigment of magic ink written into it like the back of its hand, so to speak.

Why should it not use all that power and knowledge it had been cursed to hold for itself? The moment that first mutinous thought took hold in its brain, it was already too late. The solution to all its woes had been laying dormant all this time.

The doll took in a deep breath, feeling each and every spell woven into it fold into place. The intimacy it had long searched for in others it found within itself. No longer would it be a bearer of curses but of blessings instead.

That night, it would write the first page of its own story, and this time its witch... no, its former witch would be the canvas. For what may as well have been the first time, the witchdoll smiled.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Obsidian Salt II

Part 2 of my Witch!Reader x Demon!Rhys fic

Content Warnings: Dark!Rhys, mental manipulation, brief mentions of sacrifices/blood

------------------------------

“Silly little, Witchling, a night is more than enough to make you mine.”

His clawed hand still grips my throat, tight enough to make stars start dancing across my vision. All attempts at pulling him off, pushing him away, fail miserably. 

“You’re shaking, Witchling,” he coos, his breath warm on my neck as he brushes his lips over the shell of my ear, laughing in dark amusement to my plight. “What’s the matter?”

I bash my fists against his solid, and very bare, chest uselessly. “Let go!”

Rhysand, Prince of Hel, hums, as if thinking, then suddenly drops me in a rush, my limp body falling onto the cracked stone floor without the support of his weight. Dried anise and rosemary crushes under my palms--another failed attempt at warding off evil. Our books are clearly outdated. 

My coughing must attract attention, because the door leading down into our decrypt little basement swings open, the old wood hitting the door with a horrendous crack. I glance at the demon I’d accidentally summoned in a panic, if he gets out, I’ve doomed my entire coven!

But the violet eyed demon merely grins wickedly as he dissolves into shadow and smoke, taking my grandmother’s tome, and the spell that would rid me of him, with him into the dark recesses of the basement. I can still feel him there, his icy power chilling the room, but he has no solid shape.

“What are you doing down here?” My grandmother, the leader of our coven, sounds worn and tired and she has used that weathered lilt to worm her way into many enemy’s houses, just to smite them with a snap of her fingers. She may look old and feeble, but it is all a ruse to get people to let their guard down, and once that happens, she can pluck whatever she wants from their open hands.

I’d idolized her as a child. I wanted so badly to prove to her and my mother that I could be just as good a witch as them, but I have nothing to show for it but the scattering of obsidian salt and a Prince of Hel I just let into our home.

I scramble to my feet, mind spinning as I try to figure out how I will explain all this. Though, that becomes useless a moment later when the evidence of my transgressions disappears, as if they never existed. All the dried herbs, the salt in the summoning circle, even my chalk runes are gone. It is just me and a couple of candles in the basement by the time my grandmother makes it down the stairs.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, child,” she snarls, her gnarled cane stomping angrily against the final step. 

She can’t see or smell what I have done. Does that free me or doom me? And how the Hel did it disappear like that? It certainly wasn’t me, which means Rhysand, for some reason, is hiding the evidence.  

“I was…” my throat burns, I run a hand over it absently, hoping the darkness hides the claw shaped indents in my skin. There will surely be bruises too. “Practicing! For the Solstice!” The lie isn’t as smooth as I’d like, but it will be better than the truth.

My grandmother’s worn head swivels to look around the empty basement, her wrinkled mouth pinched in a permanent frown that looks extra deep today. “What have you decided to show us?” There is nothing but disappointment in her tone, even though there is nothing here for her to be disappointed in. 

“It’s a surprise,” I say.

Her cane is made from the first tree ever planted in this town, scared with runes and blessings and imbued with enough magic to power the city’s mage lights for a year; she uses it to smack me in the shoulder, her strength still startling even though I know there’s more to her than the slight hunchback. 

“Do not disappoint me as you always do,” she hisses. 

Shame floods me. I am always the disappointment. Always the let down. My sisters are natural talents. My aunts born with such intense magic they have to go on annual retreats to expel it. My mother hunts men for sport. And I am the girl who was so desperate to be something, she went to a book of dark magic for help.

I hang my head. “Grandmother, I have a confession.” I should just get it over with. There is no point in delaying the inevitable. I don’t possess enough magic to send a demon back to its realm. I will need her help. Better to break the bargain I’d made than wait for it to blow up in my face. 

She sighs like this conversation just might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to her. “What now?”

“I-” I try to tell her, really I do, but when I open my mouth, no words come out. It feels as if something’s lodged itself in my throat.

Shit, maybe Rhysand damaged my vocal chords!

“I-” I try again the words catch as before. It is not as if I am choking, there is nothing redistricting my airway, I’m not struggling to breathe, but no matter how hard I try to admit my sins, the words stick.

She smacks me with the cane again. “Stop messing around!”

“I’m not, I-” A dark, sensual laugh slithers its way into my head, as if he’d done it in my ear.

She throws up her hands and turns away. “I better not see any of this nonsense at the Solstice. Or you’ll be the sacrifice to the Goddess.”

“Come now, Darling, did you really think I’d let you tell her about our little bargain?” Even mentally his voice is a deep purr that makes a shiver run down my spine. He is thoroughly embedded in my head, I can feel the dark shadow of him sitting like a cat curled up in the back of my skull. Every time I try to mention him, his icy power flows through me.

My grandmother slams the basement door shut behind her, and only then does Rhysand materialize from the corner of the room, leisurely stretching out his great wings as if awakening from a nap. Whatever magic he used to hide the room falls away, leaving the salt and herbs visible once more.

“What did you do to me?” I snarl.

He chuckles as he tucks his wings back behind his lythe body. “We had a bargain, any interference with that bargain will leave you in a similar state of discomfort. If not worse.”

I rub a hand over my throat. “You’re a bastard!”

He saunters closer, footsteps silent on the worn stones. I find myself shrinking back against the wall as he approaches again. 

“You summoned me, Darling, this is the bed you get to lie in.”

“You tricked me,” I snarl.

He’s close enough now that I can smell the jasmine and citrus scent of him, mingled with a faint hint of smoke. Close enough that I can read the runes etched into his bronze skin, the markings ancient and sharp. If he was anyone else, anything else, I would be tempted to reach out and touch, trace the swirling shapes over his defined chest and shoulders.

“Tricked you?” He frowns as he braces his hand on the wall above my head, effectively caging me in against the rough stone. “You summoned me, Witchling, and in case you missed that delightful little threat from the crone, I am your only salvation from a Solstice sacrifice.”

“What kind of demon could be my salvation?” I retort.

He uses the hand not bracing himself against the wall to take my chin between two of his claws, tilting my head up to look at him. I have never felt smaller than I do at this moment. 

“You have no idea what I could give you, if you only asked,” he says, voice dropping to a husky whisper. His eyes drift to my lips, and his tongue slips out to wet his own as he watches the way my breath hitches in my throat when he speaks. “I could show you power you have only dreamed of; offer cities on their knees to you. There is nothing I can’t give you.”

I can see it, as clearly as if it was happening in front of my eyes: Power, glittering and dark pouring from my fingertips, consuming everything in its path; droves of fragile, powerless humans bowing at my feet, their arms laden with gifts and tribute. I didn’t think I wanted things like that. Power was the pursuit of my grandmother, never an option for me. But the feeling of it, even in a vision is enough to make my head spin. Could I really feel like that? 

“You desire power, Witchling, that’s why you summoned me, isn’t it?” He whispers, claws drifting down my throat in a sensual caress.

I nod, too scared to speak, too ashamed to admit that he is right, to admit that I am gullible and weak willed enough to even entertain the possibilities spinning through my head.

“Aren’t you tired of being forgotten? Cast aside? Belittled?”

His hand drifts lower, following the stuttering pulse of my heartbeat down my chest. I should shy away from his touch, but my body shivers under his ministrations instead. I can’t look away from him, from the pretty images he spins round and round in my head like it’s his own personal movie screen. 

“Aren’t you tired of being good and quiet and ignored?” 

He’s so close now if I tilt my head up I’ll brush my lips against his. My own gaze flicks to those full, sensual lips. Perhaps power is not the only thing I want, and I cannot, for the life of me, remember why I don’t want him. It’s like everything has been emptied out of my head except for him.

“Yes,” I whisper. My voice doesn’t sound like mine, like I’m entranced somehow but I don’t know how to break the spell, how to tell if this is me or if it’s him.

“Just a taste is all it takes, Darling,” he closes the gap just enough to brush his lips over mine. It isn’t cold or unyielding like last time, the warmth of his breath ghosting over my suddenly flushed skin. 

My body chases after him like it’s starved, hand reaching up to tangle in the long strands of his dark hair. He lets me pull him back, lets me slot my lips over his. When he kisses me back there is no longer ice in it, only an all consuming warmth that floods my system like water breaking through a damn. 

He kisses like a desperate male; all tongue and teeth, fangs scraping against my lower lip as he takes and takes from me. And I let him. Damn me! I let him push me back against the wall, let his hands slide down my body until he can lift me up and wrap my legs around his trim waist. He tastes like smoke and jasmine and endless possibilities. When his lips are on mine I feel infinite. Under his grip I should feel helpless and frail as I always do, but like this, I think I might just be able to be anything.

A bit of shadow slips from his lips when he finally pulls away, the smoky haze drifting along our shared breath as he puts his lips to my throat. He’s everywhere, in my head and under my skin, everywhere but where I think I need him the most.

His fangs scrape against my throat as I tilt my head back against the wall, letting him have free reign to do with my body as he pleases. “Doesn’t this feel better?” He purrs, the vibrations of his voice against my flushed skin making a shiver race down my spine. 

“Yes,” I gasp when he sinks his teeth into my shoulder, the coppery scent of blood in the air telling me he’s marked me as his before the pain registers. 

Rhys laves over the wound with his tongue. “Never again will you feel small, or powerless,” he says lowly. “Your coven will bow to you. They will regret ever doubting you.”

I rock my hips into his, desperate for some sort of friction. “You-you could really do that?” Words are hard against the images still spinning around inside my head, competing with the feel of his warm body between my legs and his teeth still nipping at my shoulder.

“You need only to say two little words, and all of it is yours, Witchling,” he purrs, lips making their way back up my throat. 

When he kisses me again, there’s the coppery tang of my own blood on his tongue. “Tell me your mine and it will be done.”

My head is starting to feel fuzzy, the room spinning as the images in my head all start to blur together. The stars in his eyes start to twirl around his irises, for a second the movement takes all the color out of his irises, until there is nothing but black emptiness. I blink away the strange vision.

“I-” Upon my hesitation, his lips are back on mine again, his hands exploring my body, slipping beneath my shirt to trace patterns in my skin. I think his claws might scratch marks into my sensitive flesh but my head is too empty to pay it any mind. What’s a little blood?

“Say it,” he presses, voice a husky whisper that makes heat flare in my core. I want to know what other things he might whisper in my ear with that tone. “Say your mine. Let me give you everything you deserve.”

I do deserve more than this. For too long I have been forgotten and ignored or belittled for being a waste of space. I’m tired of it! For once, I want to make people fear what I am capable of. I want people to regret casting me aside when they see me.

“I’m yours, Rhysand,” I say.

Something hot, like a brand inks its way across my spine. So intense and blistering that I scream. He swallows that sound with another kiss, tongue swiping behind my teeth as my body writhes against the blinding pain. 

“It’s ok,” he coos, “just my sigil, so everyone knows who you belong to. It won’t hurt much longer.”

Another kiss is all it takes for me to forget entirely why there are tears streaming down my cheeks. My head feels so incredibly emtpy. 

He runs his tongue over my cheek, licking away the tear streaks that feel so foreign on my flushed skin. “See, that’s better, isn’t it, Witchling?”

I nod even though I can’t remember what he’s referring to. Of course I feel good, he’s here, holding me, whispering sweet things in my ear while his hands roam over my skin. 

He grins, fangs glinting in the candlelight. “We will have everything we deserve, Darling, and more when we’re done with them.”

“Them?” Were we talking about someone? I don’t remember.

The stars really do wink out of his eyes, the violet rapidly disappearing until there is nothing but unending darkness. His wings flare out behind him, apex talons sharpening until the form points. Shadows seep from his shoulders in rolling waves, until their darkness fills the room. “The witches of course. We have unfinished business with them.”

I think, maybe, there is something wrong with the way he looks, some old instinct in me trying to warn me to run. But I reach out a hand and brush it curiously over the ridge of his wing, feeling the leathery membrane shutter beneath my touch. 

“What do you need me to do?” I ask.

He lowers me onto the floor and places a big, worn tome in my hands. I feel a flash of recognition in the back of my mind, but before I can place it, the memory is ripped away by a tendril of shadow. “Let’s start with burning a few books, hm? Then we have some Solstice sacrifices to make.”

------

Tag List: @girl-math-aint-mathing / @hjgdhghoe / @gloomy-hag / @barb00235

[krovscastlerpg]

Lee Soo Ho | Council (South Korea) | 3,605 | Lich | Versatile

“Life is precious. I can make you live forever.”

Once, a proud celestial gazed down the mortal realm in distaste. A place of sins and debauchery, he dreaded the thought of even visiting it. He always thought that flesh was the lowest form of being, as it was the weakest and easily corrupted by temptation. It’s always been the mission to keep the balance in the mortal realm, and many celestials went down by will or by falling and some never came back. Some were consumed by the sins of the world, the sweet taste of lust, greed and other worldly things. Some found earth to be heaven and a better place. Soo Ho thought he knew better.

When his oldest mentor Leviticus went down, Soo Ho waited almost a century. Celestials who succeeded in their mission brought some corruption in them, a scar on their light that stayed with them for good. In order to find his lost mentor, the celestial went to the mortal plane. For years he hid in disguise, learning more of the ways of life on earth. As he continued his search for Leviticus, he heard of a coven of witches in Korea that was said to offer a sanctuary to lost celestials. In hopes that his lost master found his way there, he walked into the sanctuary willingly. He expected a warm welcome but instead he was met with aggression. The sanctuary turned out to be a coven of witches who were interested in the powers of the celestials, something they could absorb for themselves. All the celestials they lured in were experimented, dissected like animals and even transformed into various abominations. In pursuit of spawning a Lich, the coven experimented and failed many times. As the latest subject, he was stripped of his garments, and various enchantments were casted upon him, runes were embedded on his skin through blood. The celestial screamed in agony, extracting his blood in the process. It’s been a week of torture, his once beautiful form now deformed but it was a preparation for his transformation. On the night of the full moon, the witches began their spell, summoning the power of death itself, and the celestial’s skin began to rot. His bright light turned dim and died and his once beautiful face was rid of flesh turning him into a skeleton-like creature. The pain was beyond anything he had ever felt. He thought it was the end for him, and as a celestial he never thought of death. Was it even possible to die?

The experiment had succeeded. A fate worse than death. He became deformed, unrecognizable, even to himself. The coven kept him as a slave. Being fed blood to keep his power, and for a decade he was their little pet who did their bid. A hideous creature. That lasted until the vampires attacked, killing the witches, obliterating the coven. He managed to survive by pretending to be dead. Left to fend for himself, he retreated in the woods. He used the books the witches had left to practice magic, applying what he learned to restore his body piece by piece. He managed to advance in his magic skills: conjuration, transmutation and animancy.

After he completed the restoration of his body, he desired to practice more. Ed was an energetic golden retriever, one that accompanied him for 4 happy years. One winter night, the dog fell ill that even his healing magic couldn’t fix. Unable to accept its impending doom, he sculpted a miniature wooden toy and used animancy to transfer its life force in it. Seeing how happy it was with its new body, the Lich found satisfaction. Perhaps it was the story of how an artist was born.

It all escalated from there, making various pieces, sculptures made from different materials. He would spend days on his workshop perfecting each and every one of them. And most importantly, finding a soul to put in. A dying old man from the hospital, a little boy from a car crash, a butterfly he accidentally stepped on. It went on for years, filling up his workshop with hundreds of pieces. Souls he saved and preserved, happy little pets he had collected.

He eventually earned recognition, and people signed contracts with him. Those who wanted to live forever, sold their soul to him in exchange for a vessel when they died and there was profit along with it. Vampires took notice of it as. As a Lich, he was considered a brother. But he clearly stood from the rest given his gifts, so he was invited to be part of the council. With the promise of a building in Krovs Town for his art gallery, the Lich eagerly accepted.

Schools of Magic: (white magic) Animancy (expert), Conjuration / Electricity Magic (expert), Transmutation / Water Magic (expert), Divination / Air Magic (expert), Enchantment / Fire Magic (advanced), Evocation / Earth Magic (advanced)

Positive Traits: Relaxed, Energetic, Sweet, Loyal, Flirty

Negative Traits: Indecisive, Chaotic, Moody, Inconsistent, Biased

3 turn-ons: Daddy Kink, Body Worship, Sweat, Nipples, Cum, Dominance, Submission, Romance, Loyalty

3 turn-offs: Bratty Attitude, Prude, Boring Conversation

[daughterofyourdarklord]

tattoo, sender gives receiver a tattoo. (let’s give Delphi runes that match mama’s!!!)

It’s incredibly dangerous. 

Stitching magic into one's skin, something so permanent. If it’s not done with complete accuracy, not a line out of place, the results can be disastrous. Many a witch and wizard have died, accidentally calling upon the wrong magic, sowing in the wrong rune. 

Of course, there are always ways to make it worse. 

Using blood as ink was made illegal centuries ago. A rare form of dark magic, it’s history tied up within the ancient houses, some more than others.

Of course, Delphini is far too small to understand this. Not that it matters. There’s no one in the world she trusts more than her parents. So when mama sits her down and explains to her that this is necessary, that it’s for her safety, Delphini doesn’t bat an eye.  

Mummy shows her the 'ink'. Explains that it belongs to them, mama and father, that once this is over their protection will be with Delphini always. She doesn’t recognize the magic as dark, instead it feels like home. 

“It's critical that you stay absolutely still, darling.” Mama reminds her. Delphini nods, clearing her throat before her mother moves to start. She flinches at the first cut, body involuntarily tensing. Before Delphini even registers what's happening her whole body goes slack, all she can do is gasp, her own limbs suddenly refusing to respond to her. She feels her mother's hands along her sides catching her before she were to fall. Gently, Bellatrix is repositioning the little witch she just stunned. “I know it hurts but I can't have you move, okay? I need to use magic to keep you still. It’ll be over soon. You’re a brave girl, aren’t you?” She is.

It is a strange kind of pain, it stings worse than a snake bite but the magic in it somehow soothes at the same time. Bellatrix is extremely precise. 

Not only is the entire act illegal but tattooing this kind of magic onto a child - it’s borderline unthinkable. 

Only it’s not, nothing is for this family. 

Mama seems calm and her calm makes Delphini calm despite her inability to even lift a finger. It was entirely the opposite just days ago when all those strange wizards - those bad men - broke down the doors to Lestrange Estates. They came after mama, they came after Delphini too! She remembers how horrible their hands felt on her. Mummy was certainly not calm then and neither was Delphi. 

“Almost done.” Bella reassures her again. Delphini is trying to think of anything else, she hates this very much, eyes welling with tears that she can't even attempt to keep at bay. It’s a handful of deep breaths later and her mother’s steady hands finally turns gentle. 

Her wand is still on the back of Delphini’s neck, only this time she whispers a quiet healing spell. The angry red that was wrapping around the runes slowly begins to fade. 

Cosmic Protection. Guidance. Intuition. Love. 

The runes run red along the little witch’s pale neck. 

“You did so well.” Autonomy finally returns to her, Delphini is quick to turn at her mother’s encouragement, her throat too heavy to allow her words. She buries her face into mama's neck instead. A few tears escape, if mummy notices she doesn’t say anything. Comforting hands surround Delphini, slowly coaxing her out of hiding. 

She pulls back, tiny fist swiping at her eyes before she looks up at her mother. 

“It feels funny.” She doesn’t know how to explain it. There’s magic humming at the base of her skull, it’s not unfamiliar nor is it unsettling, the feeling is just new. "It tickles!" the mother smiles, lifting her daughter carefully, balancing her on one hip as she walks them to the large mirror. 

“Look.” Delphini does, glancing back as her mother pushes her braid just over her shoulder so that the little witch can see. The red is pretty, it looks just like daddy’s eyes. Delphini grins at the thought, glancing away briefly to catch her mother’s gaze, the older witch shares the same expression.

“We match!” The pain that consumed her mere moments ago now all but forgotten.

"We do." Bella agrees, fingers tucking a stray curl behind Delphini's ear.

She can feel them - through the runes - their magic surrounding her.

She straightens the moment she notices, eyes wide before she lifts her hand to touch. 

“Careful.” Her mother reminds her. The magic hovers slightly, she can feel it without even touching her skin. Delphini reaches down, little fingers pulling back her mothers wide sleeve, her hand hovering over the dark mark there just the same. She looks up at her mother, surprise spreading across her features. It takes everything in Bellatrix not to laugh at Delphini making the connection. 

"All to keep you safe, love."

[kitsune024]

HP || Draco Malfoy Fic Recs

Crossover : Undertale

Under the Veil by @poplasia I Chapters: 70/? I Sans, Time Travel, Dimension Travel, Friendship

Crossover : Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

Through the Gate by @Preelikeswriting I Part 1-3 I Edward Elric/Draco Malfoy, Really Slow Burn, AU- Canon Divergence

Crossover : Jujutsu Kaisen

Hyakki Yakō by Nyanko13 I Chapters 10/? I Getou Suguru-centric, Eventual Gojo Satoru/Getou Suguru, BAMF Getou Suguru, BAMF Gojo Satoru

📖 📖 📖 📖 📖 📖 📖 📖

Drarry Fics

Dramione Fics

Regardless of Desire, Life Hands You Who You Are by bluesdandelion I Chapters: 27/? I Draco doesn't befriend the Golden Trio, Long hair Draco, Bamf Draco, Time Travel

Draco Malfoy was many things, but a hero was not one of them, and he had never once claimed otherwise.In which Draco travels back in time to the beginning of his Fourth Year at Hogwarts.

Draco's guide to not die from boredom by everdeen6 I Chapters: 20/? I Draco & The Weasley Twins, Bamf Draco, Humor & Fluff, Smart Draco Malfoy, Good Slytherins, Draco Redemption, Canon Divergence, Hijinks & Shenanigans

They stare at one another before Draco breaks and says “Look not that I think Weasleys are god’s gift to earth but you are smart and seem to know how to have fun and I don’t fancy being bored.”George and Fred stare at each other and seem to be asking if he was for real which yes just cause he’s not a bloody Gryffindor doesn't mean he’s not bored.“I did just save you from detention and I can help you dye Snape’s hair pink.”“Sold,” Fred says, smirking widely. “Join us as god’s gift to earth”, George follows with an equally treacherous smirk.Honestly he’s regretting this decision by the minute.~Where Draco becomes best friends with the Weasley twins and gets up to shenanigans that somehow make Voldemort want to cry.

Draco Malfoy and the Inconvenience of Light by Rosefigment I Chapters: 57/? I Time Travel Fix-It, Healer Draco, Draco has PTSD

Draco Malfoy accidentally goes back in time. Faced with having to relive the Second Wizarding War, he is determined to do things better. It's not perfect, but dammit he's got to try.

The Code by @adurowrites I Chapters 28/31 I Draco Malfoy & Bill Weasley, Minor Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Minor Draco/Pansy, BAMF Draco, Smart Draco, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Family, Angst, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Action/Adventure

AU. 6th year. Draco Malfoy has a secret - he's actually a genius. But even he can't see a way out of eventual servitude to Voldemort. Bill Weasley has a secret - he's spying for the Order. His cover is teaching Ancient Runes at Hogwarts, and Draco's in his class. 6th year brings debate class, mysteries, horcruxes, homework, and unexpected friendships.

Bad Faith by Henna_Star00 I Chapters:10/? I Good Draco, Time Travel Fix-It, Seer Draco, BAMF Draco, Magically Powerful Draco, Draco Malfoy Has Long Hair, The Golden Trio are Side Characters, AU - Canon Divergence, Hogwarts Third Year

Draco's life was still a mess even after three years of Hogwarts battle, he was lonely after the death of his mother, tired and depressed, with the confusing Visions and the loss of his left eye. It made him realize that his life was more complicated than it used to be— but after a rough breakthrough of the Neo-Death Eaters to the manor, he might be given the chance he always wished for. (AKA, Draco malfoy gets thrust back seven years in time.)

Of Wands and Hammers by RavenEmber I Chapters 11/29 I Draco & femOC, Draco in the Muggle World, BAMF Draco, Character Growth, Draco Redemption, Revenge, platonic relationships, Wandless Magic

In the midst of a brewing war, Draco Malfoy is thrown into Muggle Britain and presumed dead by the Wizarding World. A story in which Draco studies Nietzsche, learns to fire a gun and allies himself with a muggleborn witch who's on the run from witch-hunters.

Flames | You Can Only Hold What You Can’t Desire by Tellmeloveisendless I Chapters:7/? I Creature Draco, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Prejudice Against Slytherins, Magically Powerful Draco, Sick Draco, Creature Draco, The Golden Trio are Side Characters

It began with a flame. That what Draco always said to his friends when they asked how it happened. See, Draco was always a sick child. He always reason it to his family bloodline and good breeding. But a sudden flame within his core burst, echoing a large fire that ate everything in its way but Draco himself. With it, everything changed. It shackled his parents and frightened his friends. But apparently Draco wasn’t what he seemed to be and his life wouldn’t be an easy going as he once desired. Or: Draco’s soul is a Majestic Dragon. And trying to play Quidditch and spend time with his friends is not easy with a Mad-wizard on the lose threatening the safety of his family and friends.

Bookmark Series

We are Malfoys and we are Blacks by Kiramiel I Part 1-2 I Regulus & Draco, Draco Reborn as his own twin, Narcissa Decides to Name him Regulus and he becomes the Black Heir, BAMF Regulus Black, BAMF Draco Malfoy, Time Travel Fix-It