moved-to-hexxedgod

[moved-to-hexxedgod]

Found this on Pinterest and this is exactly what I had envisioned about Björt's clothes and body, it's literally the same but without the tattoos.

[moved-to-hexxedgod]

‧꒰ someone could walk in on us ꒱‧

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon likes the risk of getting caught.

warning: sexual content.

words: 1.2k

The mission had taken its toll on both of you. The tension, the adrenaline, the near-death encounters—it was all boiling over now in the dimly lit storage room of an abandoned safe house. Leon was pacing in front of the door, his sharp blue eyes darting toward the narrow window every few seconds, his jaw tight.

You stood by the metal shelving unit, leaning against it for support as you caught your breath. The faint hum of the fluorescent light above seemed deafening in the silence that stretched between you.

“They could be back any minute,” Leon muttered, running a hand through his messy blonde hair.

“I know,” you replied, your voice softer than intended. But you couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered on him, the way his fitted shirt clung to his broad shoulders and the sweat glistened on his skin. It was distracting—he was distracting.

Leon turned to look at you, and the intensity in his gaze made your breath hitch. His eyes trailed over you, from the way your shirt clung to your damp skin to the curve of your hips. It wasn’t the first time you’d caught him looking at you like this, but something about it now felt heavier, more charged.

“You keep looking at me like that, Kennedy, and I’ll start to think you’ve got something on your mind,” you teased, trying to defuse the tension.

Leon didn’t smile. Instead, he stepped closer, his boots echoing faintly on the concrete floor. “You’re one to talk,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Do you even realize what you do to me?”

Your heart skipped, the heat in your cheeks spreading as his words sank in. “What are you talking about?” you murmured, though your voice lacked conviction.

Leon smirked, his hands moving to rest on either side of the shelf behind you, caging you in. His body loomed over yours, the hard lines of his chest brushing against you as he leaned in closer.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And trust me, sweetheart, I’m done pretending I don’t feel the same.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, fierce and unrelenting, as if he’d been holding back for far too long. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you against him with a force that left no room for doubt about what he wanted.

You gasped into the kiss, your hands flying to his chest as you tried to steady yourself. The hard muscles beneath your palms flexed as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with a precision that left you breathless.

“Leon,” you murmured when he pulled back slightly, his lips hovering just above yours. “We shouldn’t… someone could walk in on us.”

His smirk returned, but there was nothing playful about it this time. “Let them,” he growled, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. “I’m not stopping.”

You barely had time to protest before his lips found yours again, his hands tugging at the hem of your shirt and slipping beneath it. His palms were warm and rough against your bare skin, trailing upward until they cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over the hardened peaks.

You moaned softly, your body arching into his touch as heat pooled in your stomach. “Leon…”

“You’re driving me insane,” he muttered, his lips trailing down your neck to the curve of your shoulder. “Do you have any idea what you do to me? How long I’ve been holding back?”

You didn’t have an answer for him, not when his hands were working their way to your waistband, tugging your pants down with a practiced ease. The cool air hit your skin, making you shiver briefly before his warmth replaced it.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his blue eyes meeting yours as his hands gripped your thighs, lifting you onto the shelf. “If you don’t want this, tell me now.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

That was all the confirmation he needed. His lips crashed against yours again as he stepped between your legs, his hard length pressing against your core through the layers of fabric that still separated you. The friction made you gasp, your head falling back against the shelf as his lips moved to your neck, kissing and nipping at your sensitive skin.

“You feel so good,” he muttered, his hands gripping your hips as he ground against you, his movements slow and deliberate. “Better than I ever imagined.”

You moaned softly, your hands tugging at his shirt until he finally relented, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. Your eyes trailed over his toned chest and the faint scars that marked his skin, your fingers tracing the lines of muscle as he worked to rid you of your shirt.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he cupped your bare breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened peaks. His lips followed, trailing down your collarbone before capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue teasing the sensitive flesh.

You gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders as your body arched into him. “Leon…”

He groaned softly, his hands moving to unfasten his belt, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops sending a thrill through you. Your breath hitched as he freed himself, the hard length of him pressing against you with an urgency that made your head spin.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice softening as he paused to look at you.

You nodded, your hands sliding down to grip his hips as you pulled him closer. “I’m sure.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, his movements deliberate as he positioned himself at your entrance. The hard length of him pressed against you, and your breath caught as he began to push into you, his movements careful and measured as he stretched you inch by inch.

“God, you feel amazing,” he groaned, his hands gripping your thighs as he buried himself deeper. “So tight… so perfect.”

You moaned, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he began to move, his hips rolling against yours with a rhythm that was slow and maddening. Each thrust was deliberate, his hard length hitting spots that had you trembling beneath him.

“Leon…” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as he quickened his pace, his control slipping as his movements grew more urgent.

“Say my name,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he gripped your hips tighter, pulling you closer with each thrust. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Leon,” you moaned, your body tightening around him as the pressure built, threatening to snap. “Please…”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice rough as his thrusts grew erratic, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts again, his thumbs teasing your sensitive peaks. “Let go for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you.”

His words sent you over the edge, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Leon followed moments later, his grip on you tightening as he buried himself deep inside you, his body shuddering as he groaned your name.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your breaths mingling in the quiet room. Finally, Leon pulled back slightly, his blue eyes meeting yours as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured, his hands sliding up to cradle your face.

You smiled, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “So are you.”

He chuckled softly, stepping back to grab his shirt and toss it over his shoulder. “We should probably get dressed before someone actually does walk in on us.”

You laughed, sliding off the shelf and reaching for your clothes. “Good idea. But just so you know… this isn’t over.”

Leon smirked, his blue eyes darkening as he pulled you into one last, lingering kiss. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s far from over.”

[moved-to-hexxedgod]

‧꒰ I bet it doesn’t feel like this with that boy ꒱‧

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you have just broken up with your boyfriend and leon wants to make you see that you are better than him.

words: 1.3k

The safe house was quiet except for the faint crackle of the fire in the corner. You sat on the edge of the worn couch, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. Leon stood nearby, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his sharp blue eyes locked on you. There was a tension in the room, thick and undeniable, that had been building ever since your team had fallen apart, both literally and figuratively.

Leon had been your rock after the breakup with your boyfriend—a relationship that had unraveled under the pressures of the mission. Still, his gaze was anything but sympathetic now. It was heated, intense, as if he had been waiting for this moment for far too long.

“You don’t have to keep bringing him up,” you said finally, breaking the silence. You glared up at Leon, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest from the way he was looking at you. “We’re done, okay? Over.”

Leon pushed off the wall, stalking toward you with a predator’s grace. “Oh, I know you’re done with him,” he said, his voice low and rough. He stopped in front of you, towering over you as his hands found the back of the couch, caging you in. “But the question is… does it feel like you’re done?”

You swallowed hard, your breath catching as his face dipped closer to yours. “What are you talking about?”

Leon’s lips quirked into a smirk, but there was nothing playful about the look in his eyes. “I’m talking about you clinging to something that was never good enough for you. You think I haven’t noticed?” His voice dropped lower, his words brushing against your ear. “I bet it doesn’t feel like this with that boy of yours, does it?”

Your stomach flipped, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Leon,” you warned, but your voice betrayed you, trembling under the weight of his words.

His hand moved to cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he challenged, his blue eyes piercing into yours. “Tell me you didn’t spend all that time with him wishing for something more. Something real.”

You couldn’t. The words stuck in your throat as his other hand brushed over your thigh, his touch featherlight but sending shivers through you. Your body leaned into his instinctively, and you hated yourself for how much you wanted him.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered, your voice barely audible.

Leon’s smirk widened, and he leaned in closer, his lips a breath away from yours. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” he murmured. “Does it feel like this when he touches you? When he kisses you?”

He didn’t wait for your answer. His lips crashed against yours, fierce and demanding, as his hands moved to grip your waist. You gasped into the kiss, your hands flying to his chest, not to push him away but to steady yourself as his body pressed against yours.

The hard planes of his chest pressed against you, and you could feel the hard length of him against your hip, sending a jolt of heat through you. His hands slid under your shirt, his fingers tracing the bare skin of your sides before moving higher, brushing over your ribs.

You broke the kiss with a gasp, your head falling back against the couch as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Leon, we shouldn’t…”

“We shouldn’t what?” he asked, his voice rough as his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened peaks through the fabric of your bra. “Shouldn’t do what feels this good? Shouldn’t give in to what we’ve both been thinking about for months?”

You moaned softly, your body arching into his touch as his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear. His hands moved with purpose, sliding behind your back to unhook your bra and toss it aside, baring you to his heated gaze.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his hands trailing over your skin as if committing every curve to memory. “I knew you would be.”

Your breath hitched as his lips found your collarbone, trailing lower as his hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him. The hard length of him pressed against your core, the pressure sending sparks of pleasure through you even through the layers of clothing.

“Leon, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

He groaned softly, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was both desperate and reverent. “I’ve got you,” he murmured against your lips, his hands moving to tug at the waistband of your pants. “I’ll take care of you. Just let me.”

You nodded, your hands sliding under his shirt to feel the hard muscles of his abdomen as he rid you of the last barriers between you. The cool air hit your skin briefly before his warmth replaced it, his body pressing against yours as he settled between your thighs.

Leon paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as he met your gaze. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft despite the tension in his body.

“I’m perfect,” you whispered, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. “Just… don’t stop.”

His control snapped at your words. His lips claimed yours in a kiss that left you breathless as he positioned himself, the hard length of him pressing against your entrance. Slowly, he began to push into you, his movements deliberate and measured as he stretched you inch by inch.

“God, you feel incredible,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he stilled for a moment, letting you adjust. “So tight, sweetheart. So perfect.”

You moaned, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he began to move, his hips rolling against yours with a rhythm that was both slow and maddening. Each thrust was firm and deliberate, hitting spots that had you arching beneath him, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmured, his voice strained as he kissed you again, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, his thumbs teasing your hardened peaks. “Tell me you don’t feel how good we are together.”

“I can’t,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as he moved faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent. “Leon, I can’t…”

“That’s what I thought,” he growled, his lips finding your neck as his movements grew erratic. “You’re mine now, sweetheart. No one else gets to touch you like this. No one else gets to feel you like this.”

Your body tightened around him, the tension building until it snapped, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. Leon groaned your name, his grip on you tightening as he followed moments later, his body shuddering against yours.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your bodies tangled together as you caught your breath. Leon pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his hands sliding up to cradle your face as he pulled back to look at you.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with conviction.

You smiled, your fingers brushing through his hair as you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “So are you.”

Leon chuckled, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close. “Guess you’re stuck with me now, huh?”

You laughed, your head resting against his chest as you listened to the steady beat of his heart. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[moved-to-hexxedgod]

‧꒰ what horror trope metaphor is your oc ꒱‧

the horror of the mother

complete control over you, your complete reliance on her. you are a helpless child, and she makes every decision for you, asserting to you that she knows what's best. hysterical, emotional, even in her love for you, especially in her hatred for you. the fruit of her loins has rotted, and you cannot escape her scorn. distance means nothing if you're doomed to become her.

flowers rotting as a metaphor for death/decay

stems droop, go yellow like aged teeth. petals curl, go dry like paper, like corpse skin. the beauty of youth can only be preserved through unnatural means. roses drowned in silica gel, pins behind the eyes. glass vase, open casket. everyone is watching you. why aren't you moving? are you too weak to grow toward the light anymore?

found this uquizz and decided to do it ˖♡⁺

[moved-to-hexxedgod]

"i don't need your help." + "i was unprepared. it won't happen again. " For Vör, thanks ♡♡♡

" "I don't need your help."

Vör blinked, her expression unreadable, but the slight narrowing of her eyes betrayed the sting those words carried. She didn’t flinch, didn’t argue, just stood there, letting the words hang in the air between them.

"I was unprepared."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her silence growing heavier, almost oppressive. She could feel the weight of their admission, the subtle crack in their pride. Vör didn’t respond immediately—she rarely did. Instead, she let the silence stretch, her gaze steady and searching, like she was peeling back the layers of the person in front of her.

"It won’t happen again."

Finally, she tilted her head, her expression softening just enough to suggest understanding—but not sympathy. Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet, deliberate, and carried an odd sense of detachment, as if she were speaking to their soul rather than their words.

"No, it won’t," she said simply, her tone devoid of judgment but filled with an undeniable certainty. "But not because you don’t need help."

Her gaze lingered, calm yet piercing, as if challenging them to contradict her. "You think needing help makes you weak. It doesn’t. What makes you weak is refusing it, pushing away the one thing that might steady you when you’re already unbalanced."

Vör let out a breath, her voice softening just a touch. "You don’t have to take it. I’m not here to force you. But don’t mistake independence for invincibility. Even the unprepared can recover—if they let themselves."

She stepped back then, turning away without waiting for a response, leaving them to wrestle with her words in the quiet aftermath. "

Thanks for the interaction ˖♡⁺

[moved-to-hexxedgod]

Hello my friend I'm from GAZA, I ask you to Donate for my father. This is a great request from me. He needs a lot of expenses every day, about $100 a day for hospital treatment and he needs a surgery that costs $5,000. I hope you publish this for me, I have full hope in you

Please Donate if you can in my link in bio 🙏

Thanks 🙏

Please send help and donate ❤️

[moved-to-hexxedgod]

Hello 👋,

I hope this message finds you well. My name is Aziz, and I’m reaching out with a heartfelt plea to help my family find safety and reunite with our mother. 😞

The ongoing war in Gaza has torn my family apart. My mother and newborn sister are stranded in Egypt, while I, along with the rest of my sex family members, am trapped in the midst of the genocide in Gaza. We have not only been separated but have also lost our home and are enduring unimaginable hardships. 💔

Your support can make a difference. Whether by reading our story, donating, or sharing our campaign with others, you can help us reunite, find safety, and start anew. 🙏🕊

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People lend them a hand and donate whatever you can ❤️

[moved-to-hexxedgod]

" how does it feel to be a puppet on my string ? " for björt :)

rp prompt ˖♡⁺

Björt’s lips twitch, not quite a smile, not quite a snarl. Her eyes narrow, sharp and unwavering, locking onto the speaker with a fire that could melt steel. She tilts her head just slightly, as if the words are amusing, but her clenched fists and tense posture betray the simmering rage beneath her cool exterior.

"A puppet?" she echoes, her voice low, almost a growl. There’s a dangerous edge to her tone, the kind that makes even the bold hesitate. "Let me make one thing very clear—I am no one’s puppet. You might think you’re holding the strings, but I’m the one who decides when and where they’ll snap."

She takes a step closer, her presence almost suffocating, like a storm about to break. "I’ve been used before—molded, shaped, turned into what others wanted me to be. And I played along for a while, sure. But if you think that makes me weak? That I don’t see the game for what it is?" She lets out a sharp laugh, humorless and cold.

"I’m not the one dangling here. You are. Because every string you think you control? I’m already holding the blade to cut it."

She pauses, her expression softening just slightly—but only slightly. "So, tell me. How does it feel, knowing your ‘puppet’ is already planning your fall?"

Björt doesn’t wait for an answer. She turns her back, her posture radiating defiance, leaving only the weight of her words behind. "

thanks for the interaction ♡

[moved-to-hexxedgod]

Another moodboard from Pinterest but for Björt ˖♡⁺

[moved-to-hexxedgod]

Moodboard I found on Pinterest that has the vibe of Vör ˖♡⁺

[moved-to-hexxedgod]

Reminder that I only post on @hexxedgod, I will just re log my posts on here, if anyone wants to follow me, follow me there :))

[moved-to-hexxedgod]

[moved-to-hexxedgod]

[moved-to-hexxedgod]

[moved-to-hexxedgod]

11 for the edgy ask game for björt and vör :P

ask game ˖♡⁺

What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

" Björt’s weapon of choice is Herrlof, a double-headed spear as elegant as it is brutal. Herrlof, meaning “praise gained at war”, is forged from Asgardian steel and imbued with the mystical remnants of Yggdrasil's roots, giving it a shimmering, ethereal glow that pulses faintly when wielded in battle. One head of the spear is a deadly, razor-sharp blade meant for precision strikes, while the other end is blunt, designed for sheer impact, capable of shattering bones and shields alike. The staff between is etched with runes of strength and fortitude, symbols that seem to hum softly when the weapon is in Björt’s grasp.

Herrlof is more than just a weapon—it’s a manifestation of her power, her burden, and her history. It was forged for her by her father, Odin, as a gift to solidify her role as his general, and every scratch, every stain on its surface, tells a story of her service to Asgard. Despite its near-perfect craftsmanship, Björt frequently brings Herrlof to Brok and Sindri for improvements and adjustments, trusting only their skill to keep the weapon at its peak performance.

And yes, Björt has used Herrlof. Many times.

She’s wielded it in countless battles, leading Odin’s armies with a ferocity that earned her the loyalty of the Einherjar and the fear of her enemies. She uses the weapon with a masterful blend of precision and brute force, almost like an extension of herself. In battle, Herrlof is a blur of motion—slashes and thrusts meant to end conflicts quickly and decisively.

But Herrlof’s most defining moment came during the day she’d rather forget—the day she killed her mother, Mörn. Björt didn’t want to wield it then, but she did. The memory of Herrlof slicing through her mother's defenses, cutting through the bonds of love and duty, is something that haunts her even now. She hates what the spear represents in that moment—her loyalty to Odin, her duty as his general, and the betrayal of the part of her that still craved Mörn’s acceptance. "

What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

" Vör has no weapon of choice. She never needed one.

To her, weapons are cumbersome things, distractions from what truly matters. Why rely on blades or spears when you can dismantle someone with nothing more than a look, a word, or silence? Vör’s strength lies in her mind and her understanding of the world around her—a sharpness far keener than any edge.

She moves through life unarmed but never defenseless. Her intuition, her ability to feel the threads of everything and nothing, is her greatest weapon. It’s in the way she predicts an opponent’s next move before they even make it, how she can step into a room and unsettle the most stalwart warrior without lifting a finger. Vör's mastery is not in causing pain with a blade but in revealing truths—sometimes cruel ones—about the people she faces, leaving them stripped of their armor in a much deeper, more visceral way.

When battles come, Vör lets others carry the weight of steel and bloodshed. She watches. Observes. And when necessary, she steps forward, disarming not through violence but through insight and control.

It’s not that Vör is incapable of wielding a weapon. She’s handled them before when necessity demanded it. But to her, the act of killing with a blade feels distant, impersonal—a hollow echo of true power. Why pierce someone’s flesh when you can pierce their soul? "

[moved-to-hexxedgod]

there was potential in you . for björt, thnx

rp meme ˖♡⁺

" Björt’s laugh is low, bitter, and sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. Her arms cross over her chest, her fingers digging into her skin as though she's holding herself back from something—or someone.

"Potential?" she echoes, her voice laced with mockery, but beneath it, there’s a crack, a tremor. "Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I haven’t heard those words, *felt* those words, like a curse hanging over me my entire life?" Her eyes, dark and piercing, lock onto yours, but the fire in them is different now. It’s raw, brimming with something unspoken. Pain, perhaps. Or regret.

"I was meant to be more, wasn’t I? Stronger. Smarter. Better. That’s what everyone wanted. That’s what she wanted. Potential isn’t a gift—it’s a burden. A shadow of everything you’re supposed to be, haunting everything you are."

Her voice softens for just a moment, almost vulnerable, but only for a heartbeat. "So, tell me, was it enough for you to see what I could have been? Did it make it easier to ignore what I am?" The bitterness returns like a shield, her jaw clenching. "There was potential in me, sure. But potential doesn’t mean anything when all anyone sees is what you failed to become." "

thanks for the interaction ♡

[moved-to-hexxedgod]

your love is not impressive . (for vör <33)

rp meme ˖♡⁺

" "Impressive?" Vör repeats softly, her voice almost a whisper, her gaze distant as though she's looking past you, past everything. "What does love have to do with being impressive? Is that what it’s supposed to be—a performance, a spectacle?"

She tilts her head slightly, her pale eyes unreadable, a faint, almost imperceptible smile flickering across her lips. "My love is... quiet. Heavy. It clings to me, wraps around me like mist—sometimes soft, sometimes suffocating. I feel it in every breath, every heartbeat. It’s not meant to dazzle or amaze. It simply is. But perhaps that’s why you don’t see it. Because it’s not something to see, is it? It’s something to carry. And oh, I carry it. Whether I want to or not."

Her voice drops even further, almost to herself now. "Impressive? No. But unforgettable? That’s another matter entirely." "

thanks a lot for this ask and for interacting ♡