#seek those who fan your flames

[flightofaqrow]

tag refresh, relationships ( ‘+’ is platonic, ‘x’ or ‘ship name’ is romantic/sexual, ‘branwen twins’ is face value lol )

[whateveriwant]

Not With a Bang but a Whimper

Summary: Simon has a tendency to be quiet in bed. But maybe, just maybe, you can get him to break his silent streak for once.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: language, SMUT 18+ (vaginal sex)

A/N: Hello! So we all agree that Ghost's voice is hot, right? And so the thought of him moaning; the filth he'd grunt in your ear… Ugh, I just had to write a little something that would scratch that itch Ghost inflicts on my brain. As always, I hope you enjoy! :)

There's something about the darkness, the vast visual emptiness, that heightens all of one's other senses.

The tang of sweat. The scratch of sheets. The rhythmic, wet thwapthwapthwap of skin against skin.

They all come together to create a harmonious symphony of the flesh that overrides the benefit of sight, though you're sure that wouldn't detract. 

And it's perfect, really. All of it. You wouldn't change a single, microscopic detail. Except, well… Perhaps…

Simon's breath fans warm across your face, a shaky exhale that hardly sounds as it passes through his lips. There's an intake, a pointed swallow, the thick gulp of exchanged air, but then not half a second later he's right back to it – a grave-like silence worthy of his namesake.

In all the time you've been together, you've never known Simon to be a very talkative man. Sure, once he's comfortable around someone, he tends to open himself up more. But for the most part, he's never been one to speak beyond that which is necessary – a fact you'd long known and come to accept. And yet, despite this truth, somehow, you would've never predicted the Ghost's deathly silence extended to the bedroom as well.

Aside from harried breaths and the occasional throaty grunt, Simon might as well be a mute for how much sound he emits whilst between the sheets. And beyond those baser noises, what few words he has said have always been blunt; directional. 'Roll over. Hands here. Arse up.' and the like.

Of course, the case could be made that you make enough noise for the both of you combined – a circumstance you know Simon doesn't mind one bit. But still, hearing Simon's own unsuppressed enthusiasm is a fantasy you've not yet made reality, a dream you haven't seen come true.

But who says you won't ever?

A deep thrust has your back bowing off the bed, your mouth falling open in an airy moan. Another drive forward and you're clenching eagerly around him, restless hands kneading the wide, muscled expanse of his shoulders. 

In and out, deliberate and methodical, he drags his thick cock along your walls. Gradually, mind-numbingly, the even tempo of his hips stokes a heat within your belly, and you try arching up to meet him, building the flames higher and higher.

As you rock, a low, droning moan tumbles past your parted lips, underlining the measured creaks of the bedsprings, the noisy rattle of the headboard. Simon hits a spot within you that leaves you gasping, panting, and your desperate hands seek purchase higher, sliding up the sweat-slicked line of his neck. 

Reaching the soft, damp hairs of his exposed nape, your fingers find home, threading carelessly through the tousled strands at the back of Simon's head. Another drive of his hips has you inadvertently tugging downwards, and suddenly, as he's pulled towards you, you hear the sweetest noise flowing past your ears.

A groan.

Just a small one, hardly above a whisper, but it's rich and it's coarse and it's oh-so-deliciously-deep.

But before it can swell to something more, Simon's burying his face in the top of your chest, smothering the sound to extinction. 

No! Not again. Not if you can help it.

"Simon," you whine, lifting his head back up to yours. Though you can't quite make out his eyes in the darkness, you know he can still see you; still read you plain as day. "Please. W-Wanna hear you. Let— Let me hear you."

Maybe it's pointless – maybe it's pathetic – but you'll never know if you don't at least try.

Unfortunately, he remains woefully quiet despite your pleas – a few desperate cries not enough to dismantle years of practiced silence. Either that or he just wants to hear you beg some more, which you wouldn't necessarily put past him, but you hope he's not so cruel when you're this wanting.

Tangling your fingers further into his hair, you bring him even closer, lips brushing aching lips. You just want him to let go, to break free from whatever's holding him back, to shrug off those internal bonds keeping his voice hostage.

"Let it out, Si. Please." Please please please please please.

Unthinkingly, you squeeze your grip tighter, pressing your nails down just enough to pinch. Honest to God, it was unintentional on your part, but then suddenly, miraculously, euphorically, it's like the floodgates open all at once.

An unfiltered moan rolls through Simon's throat – low and timorous at first, just edging past reluctant, before it rises in intensity, volume steadily increasing, ultimately peaking in a stuttered curse.

"Oh, fffuck," Simon husks to himself, thighs clapping firmly against the cradle of your legs. "Fuck, pet, y— you're—" his words dissolve as you clamp down around him, the keening sound of your voice mingling with his own.

The moment Simon let down his restraints, your reaction was near-instantaneous – skin prickling, toes curling, hairs standing at full attention. This, THIS, is what you've been waiting for – for Simon to reveal what's been hidden beneath that hardened shell of his. And it's so much better than you ever possibly imagined.

Simon grabs at you hungrily, like now that he's let loose, he can't get enough of you. "Feel so fuckin' good. So fuckin' wet." He snaps his hips a little bit faster, emphasizing the obscene squelch of your cunt.

Already you can tell you're addicted to this new side of him; it's honestly embarrassing how a minor change can make you unravel so quickly. Well, at least, you would be embarrassed if you could find the strength to care. Or really, find the strength to feel anything other than surging, dripping ecstasy.

A calloused, firm thumb makes its way to your clit, and a sharp cry bursts forth from your chest, your head craning way back. Simon nips at your jaw as he circles his thumb expertly, swirling your slick around and around until you're trembling beneath him.

"That feel good, yeah? That what you like?" he questions, perhaps with double meaning.

As you try to speak, you find you've lost your voice in the process of Simon recovering his own. Thus, all you can do is nod emphatically, hitching your legs up higher on his hips to urge him on.

You feel him chuckle against your throat at your nonverbal response. Clearly, he's enjoying himself as much as you are, the cheeky Brit.

Your tongue is utterly paralyzed as you let Simon unleash on you, only able to let out small squeaks and strangled whines as you take the full force of his vigor. Your hips pang, thighs ache, and stomach clenches as he slams into you over and over again. The smack of his balls against your ass carries shamelessly throughout the room – the sound loud and obnoxiously wet as he sticks to the juices running down your rear.

"This messy little cunt's fuckin' gushin' all over me. Think you're ruinin' the sheets, pet," he teases darkly.

Another several flicks of your clit has your core tightening tellingly, walls pulsing as you feel yourself inching closer to that blissful release. Simon must also sense your impending finish because he tries adjusting his approach, and you almost sob as he suddenly pulls his hand away, frustrated at the loss of contact. But then he's pressing flat against you, grinding his pelvis along your throbbing, swollen clit, and your cry of anguish quickly morphs to one of unbridled ecstasy.  

Snaking both hands beneath your shoulders, Simon grips the base of your skull, pushing your sweaty foreheads together as he goes to speak against your mouth. "Christ, you're gonna make me cum," his breathing is choppy; stunted. "S'gonna be a big one, I can feel it." The bed jolts as he picks up his pace.

Strings of whispered expletives weave with broken moans and animalistic grunts, creating a salacious melody that overlays the sound of him taking you apart piece by sopping piece.

You're seconds away from shattering, heat flooding every nerve and vein. The only thing stopping you from falling over the edge already is your want to milk this for every second that you can. But ultimately, you can't hold on forever, and neither can he.

"M'close," Simon huffs, movements turning sloppy. "Can I… inside?" he asks without presumption.

Your tongue still feels like lead as it droops lopsided in your mouth. But you'll try to find your voice again for him, just so there's no confusion.

"Y-Yes," you whisper, more ragged than anticipated. You try swallowing but it's punctured by a whimper, your legs beginning to shake as you feel the endorphins flowing through you. The rising crescendo has you quivering, thighs squeezing him tight, and soon, you can't stop the words from pouring out, bleeding together until you're an incoherent mess. "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes—!" 

All at once, everything comes crashing over you, leaving your body spasming, brain buzzing, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You claw ferociously at Simon's back as you reach your climax, and you bring him over the crest with you, feeling his harsh, stuttered thrusts as he empties deep inside.

You're almost certain you hear a growl as he spills into you, but you can't be totally sure over the ringing in your ears, hardly able to recognize your own euphoric wails.

You ride out the cascading wave of your orgasm until you're boneless, breathless. Even as you start to wind down, it's like you're detached from your body – skin tingling, limbs numbing, chest heaving uncontrollably. You're still shaking as the fog over your senses slowly lifts, and it's only as you register Simon still moving within you that you come back to yourself fully. 

He gives a last few lazy thrusts, pushing his cum even deeper, before he's spent and slumping down, leaning on you heavily. His weight is smothering as he rests on top of you, like an anvil's been dropped on your chest. For a moment, you think he's going to snuff out the remaining air in your lungs, but then he raises up on his elbows, letting you both take a much-needed breath. 

With a choked gasp, Simon slips out of you, a similar noise escaping you as you feel his cum drip from your pussy. He flops face down on the bed, the harsh sounds of his breathing muffled by the pillows. It's another few beats until you feel somewhat collected yourself, and even then your mind is still reeling, replaying what just happened.

Holy shit. That. Was. Incredible. You didn't expect Simon letting loose to be like that, and already, you're eager to experience it again.

"You… should do that… more often," you say deliriously, earning a rumbling chuckle from the man beside you. With a little difficulty, you roll over to face him, your sensitive folds brushing together as you turn. You're just able to make out his silhouette in the dim, and you see how he shakes his head to himself, then peeks up at you from the pillow. 

"You're a greedy little minx, aren't you?" he mocks.

"For you?" You reach over, brushing your fingers through his hair. "Always." He exhales what sounds like an amused breath at your comment, your hand coming back down to rest by your side. "So… 10 minutes? I should be good to go again." That earns a heartier laugh from Simon, though you're not making a joke, the heat still roiling in the pit of your stomach.

He shakes his head again before shifting on his side to mirror you. "At least let me grab a shower and a bite first. I'm not a bloody robot." 

Oh, you're well aware of that. Machines don't feel nearly that good.

But before you get a chance to retort, a swift peck to your lips cuts off anything you intend to say. You lean into the kiss, pressing your palms to his slick chest, but aren't able to get carried away before you feel him pull back.

You sigh begrudgingly. Alright, fine. You guess you can afford him a short break to recover, but no longer than half an hour before you're dragging him back for round 2.

Simon must notice your reluctant acceptance because he chuckles once more, lightly tapping his hand on your hip. "Tell you what. I'll let you join me in the bath if you can keep your hands to yourself."

You nearly scoff at the offer, brows scrunching in annoyance. He knows that's an impossible feat for you. It'd be like dangling a prized carrot right in front of your nose and expecting you to do nothing but lick your lips and stare.

Simon again snorts amusedly as he rolls to exit the bed. "Figured as much. You'll just have to wait then, pet."

You're about to argue with him when he suddenly hauls himself to his feet. He groans as his back cracks loudly in protest, another grunt as his knees pop one after the other. More gruff noises escape him as he walks stiffly towards the bathroom, joints creaking and crackling with every other step he takes.

The noises erupting from his mouth almost sound exaggerated on purpose, like he's trying to exactly mimic the ones from earlier – the ones that had you melting mere minutes ago.  

"Okay, now you're just torturing me!" you accuse half-heartedly, pressing your sticky thighs together to quell the hollow feeling inside. He's riling you up on purpose because he knows you just have to sit there and take it!

"The only torture here is my bloody joints," Simon calls over his shoulder, planting one heavy foot in front of the next. "'S half your fault my knees 've been shot to shit anyway," he grunts. Half the blame to the military, half to missionary, you suppose. 

His lack of acknowledgement to your plight has you huffing loudly, blowing out a harrumph through pouty lips. In response, Simon clicks his tongue in soft admonishment, unswayed by your whiny tones.

"Quiet," he chides, not bothering to look back at you. "Couple more years and I'll be lucky if I don't yell every fuckin' step," he says, though you figure he's just being hyperbolic. As he's just about to duck through the door, leaving you to your own devices, you hear him grumble, more to himself than to you, "Then I'd really give you somethin' to cry about."

Forced to wallow alone in your own self-pity, you roll onto your back with a sigh. Maybe Simon's right. Maybe you should just be content with what you have. You've already gotten so much more from him tonight than you ever have before. Maybe you shouldn't push too hard.

As you hear the faucet crank on, water pelting tile, you can't help how Simon's last words almost echo through your mind. 'I'd really give you somethin' to cry about,' he'd warned, dark and low. Though he meant it as a threat, and though you know it's your sex-clouded brain getting carried away, those words coming from that voice have you damn near trembling, but not out of fear. And as you lie in bed naked, staring up at the darkened ceiling above, all you can do is grasp at your messy sheets and think to yourself…

You kind of like the sound of that.

__________

A/N: I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

[hopeandharmonizing]

🧲(can't help it)

positive energy

Briar could smell everything Barty’s about from the moment they met and has been burning hot for him ever since, and that much stronger the more she gets to know him. She lets many in her heart, but very few light the flame of her soul up the way he does.

His hair is beautiful. His body is beautiful. His attitude is beautiful.

That look. You know the one. It gets to her every time. 

He’s proud of his work without boasting, only demanding due respect. He’s confident in his skills without shoving them in your face. He’s a little awkward, but comes out of his shell easily, just like she is. Again, his attitude is beautiful.

He is gentle at the right times and rough at the and frustrating at the right times - with her, and with other people, and with situations of the world. He picks the same battles and hills to die on that she would. Basically she is just the biggest fan of his way of life. Stares at him in awe sometimes. He keeps her on her toes, surprises her, and that isn’t easy.

Great taste in music!!!

He takes his time with her and she absolutely soaks it up. She would would be unspeakably nasty with this man and loves to build him up to feeling the same. 

She can goof around with him like no one else she knows. He comes up with the craziest things and she adores that creativity.

Did qrow mention his mouth? Briar agrees.

Basically, please give her babies, Barty. She’s begging.

[sukunasweetheart]

actor!sukuna!!!

warnings; fem reader, jjk manga spoilers, a bit of both submissive and dominant sukuna, and also sukuna who loves his domineering wife a little too much, smut and fluff at the end, breeding, choking, use of collar and leash (on sukuna), rough sex, lots of teasing and provoking

i really really adore the trope where actors who play utterly vile, evil villain roles all the time simply bc of their intimidating appearance but their real personality is rather sweet and gentle, and i desperately want to apply this to sukuna. they would've probably needed to cast a whole different man for his trueform, which is what inspired this idea <3<3

actor!sukuna is oh so very notorious for his antagonistic roles, always always being the charismatic, devilish character in any film, tv series or dramas he's casted in, the ones that always somehow has the upper hand, who never shows care for anyone else, who always seems to have control over everything in all situations he's put into...

and the recent hit series 'jujutsu kaisen' is exactly the same. with him being the king of curses, having those extra cgi arms and tummy mouth and having to spend hours before shooting simply doing the makeup for the distorted side of his face. not to mention all those tattoos!

actor!sukuna, who loves his job, but sometimes gets exhausted by the kinds of roles he has to play. he's gotten so used to it, his normal facial expressions and mannerisms also may have changed a little because at times he gets himself too immersed into his character

and you might say fiction doesnt cross over to real life at the best of times, but for sukuna, it might not be the case... he's noticed over the years that people around him do truly get scared or intimidated by him. and like any celebrity, he has his own fair share of haters.

with his character's newest victim being the fans' beloved gojo satoru, it only aggravated them-- and he knew from the moment he read the script that he was going to get flamed for it. he's used to this but because of jjk's intense popularity, he actually gets a little concerned this time around...

thankfully, thankfully! he has a wife he can run home to and seek comfort from, and fully let go of this fictional persona of his.

actor!sukuna, who is often burdened with the unconscious expectations from others, to have his intimidating aura and always have control over situations (maybe sometimes people)...

but he is able to put all of this down in front of you and just lay in your lap in front of the tv as you play with his pink curls.

oh, he's so grateful for his wife, who fulfills his hidden desires... his wife, who didn't see him only by his villainous roles, but also took notice of his gentler side and decided to grab hold onto that part of him with an iron grip instead.

actor!sukuna may be a man well over two metres tall, with a resting bitch face and a deep, velvety voice perfect for being a natural dominant and aggressive lover-- which, sometimes he is of course, when the situation calls for it (whenever you feel like you want to be dominated) - but in actuality, he aches to be controlled for the most part, rather than the one controlling...

when he told you about his worries of his real life reputation, of how people on set seem to avoid him subtly, and get a bit over-polite with him, you sent a handful of extravagant food and drink trucks over to the shooting set in sukuna's name, raising the spirits of his colleagues, the camera and film crew members etc., and of course, sukuna himself.

and everytime he has any complaints about his job, you comfort him by saying that if he ever feels like it's too much, he can quit anytime he wants, because you'd be happy to be him support financially as long as he'd be your househusband *wink wink*

actor!sukuna laughs at the thought, but there are times where he seriously considers it... he is getting older, and sometimes doing all these action scenes as the villain is taxing on his body... (perhaps after jjk is over, he'll take a well deserved, long break from his career for a little while)

before getting married, from the moment sukuna first interacted with you, he was already hooked- you flirted with him openly without expecting him to take lead, and you talked less about his various identities in his shows, but showed more curiosity in his true self, and he was simply attracted to your... fearlessness?

and a part of him tried to fight against it too, but you were simply too charismatic. (it only charmed him more)

"you're an awfully cocky woman. you sure you can take me on?"

"take you on? oh, no, handsome. you'll be the one taking me on. i'll have you wrung out dry by the end of this week... if you'll let me, of course."

and that, he did.

fast forward to the present.

sukuna had come home without erasing all the makeup from his filming of jjk, to your curiosity...

"the king of curses, was it? the name of this character," you ask with a relaxed voice, watching as sukuna's large cock throbs between his legs, drooling precum messily into his boxers. ironically, you're the one lying against your back on the bed, with him hovering over your body longingly, but not being permitted to touch you... yet.

you'd put a collar around his neck. and you have him leashed, with the rope being in your hand. he has you between his arms that are supporting his body weight... muscles flexing and sweat dripping down his skin from his own arousal.... he was supposed to be tired from today's filming session but right now, his whole body is heating up like boiling water in a kettle. how cruel of you to do this to him, right after he gets home from work.

you loop the rope around your fingers once, and tug on the leash harshly, making his face shift closer to yours.

"i'd like to hear an answer, please."

"...yes, the king of curses," sukuna hisses, eyeing the leash that both turns him on and also pisses him off simultaneously.

"interesting..." you hum with a smile, gently touching the fabricated side of his face that's been made with make up.

"i do have to say, the tattoos and black nails fit you so well, my love."

sukuna remains silent as he resists the urge to kiss you, with your lips hovering so close to his.

"don't fuck me with your eyes, honey. you're making yourself too obivous," you tease, ghosting your fingers over his chest, touching him languidly. his dick swells even more.

"darling, please... i need to touch you," sukuna says, softspoken and yearning so hard it makes him dizzy.

"oh... i love when you beg like that. what would your fans think, if they saw their most cold-blooded villain pleading me like this?"

with a collar and leash on, no less.

"it wouldn't matter what they think. you're the only one i love," he responds, shuddering as you nudge your knee against the erection in his pants.

"i like that answer."

you kiss him, which is an act that means you're permitting him to finally lay his hands on you - and this breaks the restraint he'd been holding onto until now.

sukuna kisses you back with a throaty growl, slipping his tongue in to smother you with, as your lips are curled up into a pleased smile. drunk on the taste of you, he doesn't stop kissing until he's had his fill. both of you are breathing heavily when he finally pulls away, his face being flushed beautifully.

large hands come to tug away at your clothes, exposing the swell of your chest, and he clamps his lips around one of your nipples, like a man starving... you gasp, and tug at his soft hair from the back, the other hand still gripping onto the rope that connects with his collar.

you arch your back when he nips on them a little, earning him a hiss from you and another harsh tug at his leash. when he comes up to face you once again, he's wearing a smirk with foggy eyes, satisfied with this small payback.

once he finally comes around to releasing his strained cock, he gives a sigh of relief. the tip is glistening with his precum, and he wants to be buried in your cunt so bad. he slides it in with one go.

"oof, always so big, aren't you?" you tell him, feeling his throbbing dick reach so deep inside. it's not your first time saying such a thing, so he knows you mean it as a compliment. it inflates his ego.

"fuck- you feel so good," he mumbles mindlessly, pushing your thighs back.

sukuna begins to thrust into you, his heavy balls slapping down against your ass as he starts with a slow pace. another tug of his leash gets him to stop again.

"c'mon, love. is that all you can do?" you urge him, your grip still strong on his rope. he narrows his eyes, and pushes your thighs back harder, and begins to slam his hips into you, the way you love it.

"f-fuck... harder, sukuna... harder-" you moan as you keep taunting him with several pulls of his leash.

"tug that thing one more time..." he mutters with a low, out of breath voice, "and i'll make you regret it."

you love it when he's submissive, but even more so when he's in the mood to put his foot down. but you're not giving in so easily. you give it another tug, playfully.

"try me."

from then on, he snaps and decides he'll give you your own "collar".

his hand.

you squeal in delight as he roughs you up from his grip on your throat, to the biting, and to the bruising pace of his thrusts, all harmonising to bring you to your orgasm...

when sukuna cums, he does so right against your cervix, spilling all his thick, hot seed into your womb, with a loud groan. he's sucking a hickey onto your shoulder as he does so, full body shuddering with each clench of his balls as he dumps more into you. your pussy squeezes around him, fingernails digging deeply into his muscled back, feeling blissful.

he soon collapses onto you, and you start playing with his hair again, as he rests momentarily, being spent after the rough sex that happened when he'd just come back home. you'll need to reward him later for this.

in the bathroom, you help him scrub away all those tattoos, and tear off that falsified right side of his face. he appreciates this, especially the ones on his back that are difficult to reach. in the tub, you sit between his legs, and lean back as he dotes on you, calloused hands not leaving anywhere of you untouched.

once the bathing is finished, you do his nightly skin care routine for him. an actor's gotta preserve their skin, you know. before the moisturizer though, you press a soft kiss onto his pure face, clean of tattoos, and hum with a pleased expression.

"i love this one more, after all."

he huffs out a chuckle and pulls you onto his lap.

"hah. the king of curses ought to cry real tears with envy."

he clings onto you all night, face buried into your chest, indulging in the feeling of being the little spoon.

Masterlist

Tagging: @yuujispinkhair and @gojos-thot-patrol (who encouraged the leash idea...)

credit and link to the cute heart dividers here

[shattered-eagle]

Shattered Eagle: Fall of an Empire

Demo (216k WIP, 07/14/2024) | Forum

You are an advisor in a declining empire, beset by unrest, barbarians, and forces beyond your comprehension. Can you save the empire from doom?

Explore a fictional world inspired by the late Roman Empire.

Be male or female, cisgender or transgender, straight, gay, bisexual or asexual.

Serve the imperial family dutifully, or secure your own rise to power.

Choose from up to five careers, from a veteran of the legion to a shadowy spymaster.

Learn the secrets of sorcery or untangle the ancient mysteries behind the Empire.

Navigate the viper’s nest of imperial politics to find allies or paramours, including the empress herself, a cunning senator, a ruthless crime boss, a barbarian general, or a foreign prince.

SETTING SYNOPSIS

Through over five centuries of conquest, the Iudian Empire has come to rule the Inner Sea, becoming the most powerful realm in the known world.

From the western hills of Ezperia, the northern forests of Hevernica, the sophisticated cities of Attika, the eastern deserts of Midyan, and the southern rivers of Seyet, all fell before what the world calls the Iudian Sorceresses, the women who wield fire itself against their enemies. For it is indeed women who rule in Iudia, as ordained by the mother goddess Gaia herself.

Yet, the Empire is not without troubles, and her glory days seem past her. Crippling civil wars, endemic corruption and ceaseless invasion have all contributed to the woes of the once great Empire.

Threats old and new rear their heads in times such as these. A resurgent Pharia, the Empire’s old eastern rival, threatens to seize the eastern provinces. Civil unrest has escalated in the capital of the capital, the flames fanned by an increasingly bold criminal underground.

The greatest danger may come from the north, however. Beyond the cold barbarian lands comes a enemy you have only heard rumor of, the Witch King of the Ongi. It is said the warrior rides at the head of a massive host, wielding great magic that has united all the tribes of the far steppe together out of fear of his power. He has called a holy war against the Empire, claiming it as a nation of demons to be cleansed from the earth.

Will you hold the Empire steady in her time of crisis, claw your way to power, or seek to solve ancient mysteries? The fate of Iudia is in your hands.

MAJOR CHARACTERS

Empress Julia Vitallia Hevernica (48F)

A harsh woman who forced the Empire back together with blood and steel, Julia has reigned as Empress for a decade. She is a strong military leader and a pious woman, who frequently prays to the Goddess for guidance. She is cruel towards her enemies, but possesses a certain pragmatic streak, and has invested much of her authority in you so that you might govern the Empire while she wages war.

Consul Consentia Plinia Dorica (55F)

The leader of the now-sidelined Senate, the ancient legislature of grandiose aristocrats which once governed the Empire alone, Consentia is bent on advocating for what she sees as the fundamental rights of the public and restoring the power of the old Republic. She is a passionate orator and the wealthiest woman in the Empire, barring the Empress herself, and has struck a deal with the crime lord Ceto in order to gain the support of the masses for her reforms.

Tribune Ceto Vera (43F)

Coming up from the poorest slums of the capital, Ceto is the Empire’s most notorious crime lord, ruling the streets by both spreading out her ill-gotten gains to the people and making brutal examples out of those who refuse to acknowledge her authority. Lately, she has entered politics and become a staunch advocate for the rights of the common people, forming an uneasy alliance with the Consul to push back against the ever encroaching imperial autocracy.

Legate Antonius Lethungius/Amalrik Wulfhid (40M)

Born to an imperial mother who named him Antonius and a barbarian father who named him Amalrik, the Legate is a man caught between two bitterly opposed worlds. A skilled and charismatic general, he has won the steadfast loyalty of the Empire's barbarian auxiliaries with his victories on the field of battle, yet his true loyalties remain unknown. Is he a dutiful man of the Empire, or a proud, unbowed barbarian?

Prince Darius of Pharia (33M)

Darius, third son of the great King of Kings, serves in the imperial capital as the ambassador and hostage from the eastern realm of Pharia, the Empire’s oldest and most powerful rival. Over the past decade and half, however, Darius has become more than a mere captive, having established great wealth and influence in the capital with his charm and wit, and is now a major power player in his own right.

CONTENT WARNING

These themes and depictions are present in the current demo, or are planned to be present in the final product.

Depictions of violence & warfare (including gore), references to torture, sexual references and themes, drug & alcohol abuse, physical & emotional abuse, sexism, suicide, slavery, homophobia, & transphobia.

UPDATE LOG

04/14/2024: Chapter I (50k Words | 18k Playthrough) 05/07/2024: Chapter II (105k Words | 39k Playthrough) 06/05/2024: Chapter III (156k Words | 59k Playthrough) 07/14/2024: Chapter IV (216k Words | 73k Playthrough)

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Baki Head Canons:

All Yours

Yandere Katsumi Orochi x Fem Reader

Alternate Reality AU

When (your name) had wished for Katsumi to return her feelings, she hadn’t meant to this extent. The man never left her alone for more than an hour. Her phone constantly rang with calls or messages when the Karateka would get a smidge of free time.

How was she to know that woman was genuinely a witch? A witch who transferred her to an alternate reality where Katsumi adored her? One where he was obsessed?

It was her fault for seeking that woman out for a charm to make her crush like her, but she didn’t think she’d be transported to another world when she rescued Katsumi from the flaming dojo all those months ago… did she die in her old world? Was this some kind of screwed up Isekai misadventure? The thought alone made her head hurt… just like this current call with the Katsumi of this reality.

“(Your name)? How about I bring you some takeout once I’m done with my class? I miss your face!” Katsumi rambled on the other end of the phone as you gave a stiff smile. You were head over heels at first about the attention you received from him, but it became old quickly. Even though this man was Katsumi, he wasn’t the Katsumi you adored. Nope! This version of him was like a ripoff version of him in a bad fan fiction.

“That’d be lovely. Thank you, Katsumi.” (Your name) knew he probably clicked his heels together on the other end of the phone when she said that. The man was so eager to please…

“Okay! I’ll get your favorite then, darling!” Katsumi continued to chatter. “I’m so happy you finally accepted my affection… I’ve been after you for years.”

Yes… in this reality, it was Katsumi who pursued rather than her. Was this how the Katsumi felt in her world when she’d show him affection? Overwhelmed and exhausted? God she felt like an even worse person…

“I appreciate you, Katsumi.” (Your name) replied in a soft voice. “Be safe today.”

“I will! I can’t wait to see you.” (Your name) closed her eyes and hung up. The young woman placed her face in her hands and softly cried.

This was her reality now and she needed to accept it. She needed to accept that she’d never go back to her old world and she’d never be able to apologize to the Katsumi there.

“I’m sorry, Katsumi… I’m so sorry.” (Your name) cried softly into her hands.

A few hours later and Katsumi was on her doorstep with a bag of takeout. A huge smile on his face when she opened the door. “(Your name)! I bought the goods, hopefully this will cheer you up. I noticed you’ve been a bit down lately…”

(Your name) gave Katsumi a soft smile to try to reassure him. “You’re always so thoughtful.” Why couldn’t her old Katsumi be a bit like him?

Katsumi’s face flushed as he bashfully kicked his feet from side to side. “Well, I try to have your best interests in mind. I just want you to be happy.”

And that’s when (your name) broke down in tears, the Karateka quickly pulled her into his arms. “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you-“

(Your name) leaned forward and pressed her lips against his in a gentle kiss. A kiss that made her whole body shake while desperation consumed her. She felt like such an awful person for the way she exploited this man, but he always said the right words… he was everything she ever wanted. Was it wrong to indulge him?

Katsumi’s eyes blew wide open for a second before he jumped right into the kiss. His hands grabbed at whatever flesh he could reach as he maneuvered the two of them into her apartment. His foot shut the door behind him.

“Your lips are so soft and you smell heavenly.” Katsumi whispered against her lips, his forehead now pressed against hers. “Can we… can we continue in your room?”

(Your name) thought for a minute before she gave him a teary eyes smile. “Yes… I’d like that.”

And as their clothes were discarded with each step they took towards her room, she couldn’t help but smile.

If this was her fate, she’d embrace it. All she had ever wanted was to be loved, even if it was by this obsessive man. This obsessive man with the face of her first love.

“I don’t have protection… is that okay?” Katsumi asked with a blush, the man’s eyes anxiously scanned over your bare form.

“That’s okay.” You held your arms out for him. “I’m yours, Katsumi.”

[elegantpersoncreation]

“Set your life on fire. Seek those who fan your flames.” Rumi

[amiableness]

Peonies ; part three

Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Theo and reader get even closer, and Mattheo is not a fan.

Word Count: 5280

Warnings: Unrequited love & Mattheo and Reader get into it. Let me know if there’s more!

A/N 💌 God, this took me forever to write. I struggled with writers block so badly on this, so if it’s not my best work, I apologize. As always, thank you to @moonpascal for reading, helping me with ideas, and just providing support and comfort. I love you!

SERIES MASTERLIST <3

“Y’good?” Theo looks up from the fire, his gaze shifting to Blaise, who’s now standing beside the couch. The flames had been the only company he’d had for hours. It was late—he couldn’t say exactly how late—just that the common room had emptied long ago, and he’d been sitting there long after everyone else had gone to bed.

“Yeah,” Theo sighs, his eyes drifting back to the flickering flames. “I’m good.” His words are hollow, almost as if he’s trying to convince himself. Blaise watches him for a moment, studying the tension in his posture, before quietly sitting down in the empty space beside him. Neither of them speaks, both of them watching as the flames dance.

Blaise leans back, glancing at Theo before breaking the silence. “You don’t look it,” he says, his voice calm but direct.

“Just thinking.” Theo just shrugs, his shoulders barely lifting, the gesture heavy with indifference. Blaise watches him for a moment, waiting, giving him the space to say something more—but the silence stretches.

“About her?”

Theo’s reaction is answer enough. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair with a tired frustration. For a brief moment, he pauses, elbows resting on his knees, his head cradled in his hands.

He drops his hands slowly, lifting his head to glance over at Blaise, his eyes tired, “When am I not?”

Blaise smiles slightly at his words. He’s known for years that Theo liked you—it was impossible to miss. From the moment Mattheo introduced you, Blaise vividly remembers the way Theo looked at you, as if his breath had been knocked from his lungs.

He was completely undone in a single glance.

And if that hadn’t been enough of a giveaway, the little things Theo did for you over the years certainly were—grabbing your favorite sweets from Hogsmeade when you couldn’t make the trip, offering help before you even had to ask, his gaze always seeking you out no matter how crowded the room. It was undeniable, even if Theo never spoke it aloud.

“Listen, mate,” Blaise begins, casting a quick glance at Theo, gauging his expression before continuing. “Do you think this is a good idea?”

“What?”

“Helping her get over Mattheo while you’re in love with her yourself.” Blaise's words hang in the air, and Theo's jaw tightens instinctively, a storm of emotions flickering across his face.

He wants to deny that he’s in love with you, but deep down, he knows it’s pointless. The truth is unquestionable; he’s been drawn to you for years, but these last few months have sent him falling even deeper.

How was he ever supposed to get over you when every moment only pulled him deeper? The way your fingers slipped so easily into his, like they belonged there, the soft curve of your lips as his thumb traced gentle circles over your skin. How sleeping over in your dorm had somehow become routine—he was sure Pansy was staying with Blaise on purpose to give him space with you. And those long walks around the castle, meant to distract you from Mattheo and Veronica, had turned into something else entirely—talks that lasted for hours, about everything and nothing, but always feeling like more.

It’s why he hasn’t left this couch in hours, struggling with the weight of his feelings. The realization hits him hard: he’s completely fallen for you, and he’s trapped. Because in your eyes, he’s just a friend, and that thought feels like a punch to the gut.

“She asked me to, and I can’t say no to her,” Theo replies, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and resignation. “I’ve never been able to.”

“You’re going to get yourself hurt if you’re not careful.” Blaise warns, his tone serious.

“We’ve long passed that point.” Theo sighs.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

“Where in Hogsmeade do you get the flowers?” You glance over at Theo, sitting next to you on the common room couch, your question pulling him from his thoughts. Whatever everyone else was talking about had long since lost your interest, and if Theo were honest, he’d admit he wasn’t listening either. How could he be, with you so close? The heat of your body nearly pressed into his side, making it impossible for him to think straight.

“What?” He replies, but the pause lingers just a little too long. He's stalling, clearly hesitant to admit the truth—that the flowers aren't from Hogsmeade.

“The peonies.” You murmur, shifting until you're turned toward him, tucking yourself into his side. His arm rests casually on the back of the couch, and the sudden closeness feels intimate.

“What shop do you get them from?” You ask, your voice so soft it nearly melts him.

His mind goes blank the moment he sees you nestled against his side, looking up at him through your lashes. The way your gaze lingers on him, so close, steals any coherent thought he might have had.

“Why?” He asks, feigning casualness.

“I wanted to get some for myself,” you shrug, “I’ve never seen peonies so beautiful before.”

“No,” Theo responds so quickly that it catches you off guard, an amused eyebrow arching as you glance at him in surprise. The truth is, he hates the idea of you picking your own flowers—he wants to be the one to give them to you. “I’ll just take you with me next time I go, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod in agreement, a soft smile tugging at your lips, clearly content with his answer. As you turn back to the conversation, that smile still lingers, and Theo can’t help but admire you for a moment, a quiet satisfaction settling in knowing he was the reason for it. But when he glances back up, his gaze meets Mattheo’s.

Mattheo’s brow furrows as he shifts his gaze between you and Theo, a flicker of suspicion darkening his eyes. Without thinking, Theo drops his arm, casually wrapping it around your shoulders in a possessive gesture—one he knows he shouldn’t make. Your body instinctively leans into him, sending a warmth coursing through Theo; it feels so natural to have you this close. Mattheo’s expression tightens just slightly, his gaze lingering a heartbeat too long before he finally looks away.

You barely have time to enjoy being cuddled into Theo’s side, before Pansy turns to you. Both of you exchange annoyed glances at something particularly ridiculous Draco just said, rolling your eyes in unison. But then her expression shifts from irritation to excited disbelief as she catches sight of you nestled against Theo, his fingers absentmindedly tracing gentle patterns on your skin.

Pansy can’t help but raise her eyebrows, a grin spreading across her face as she processes the scene before her. Before you can send her a warning look, she’s on her feet, leaving Blaise protesting. “It’s time for bed,” She declares, pointedly looking at you. “And you’re coming with me.”

You sigh, knowing all too well that Pansy would make a scene if you didn’t follow her lead. Reluctantly, you lean forward, easing yourself out of Theo’s grasp, but before fully pulling away, you pause. Gently, you press a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering for just a moment longer than usual. “Goodnight,” you murmur quietly, the words almost lost in the space between you before you finally stand.

Pansy, giddy and practically buzzing with excitement, grabs your hand and tugs you toward your dorm, both of you tossing casual goodnights over your shoulders to the boys. Blaise grumbles loudly about not getting a proper goodnight from his girlfriend, while Theo remains silent, a soft pink flush creeping across his cheeks as he watches you walk away, still feeling the warmth of your kiss lingering on his skin.

You catch the sound of the boys teasing Theo the moment they assume you're out of earshot, their playful jabs and laughter unmistakable as they seize the opportunity to rib him. Even from a distance, you can imagine Theo's flushed face as he tries—and likely fails—to brush off their teasing.

“Is there something going on between the two of you?” Pansy blurts out the second you step into your dorm, her excitement practically radiating off her as she nearly slams the door shut behind her.

“No, why would you even think that?” You ask, genuinely surprised, but Pansy just stares at you incredulously, like you’ve completely missed the obvious.

“You’re kidding, right?” She says, crossing her arms. “The sleepovers? The hand holding? The fact that you two are practically inseparable?”

“He’s helping me get over Mattheo.” You insist, feeling the need to defend yourself, though even as the words leave your mouth, they sound weaker than you’d like.

After a couple of months of coming to terms with the reality of Mattheo and Veronica, you’ve found that the idea of them together doesn’t sting nearly as much as it once did. Sure, you still dislike seeing them together, but the ache has softened into something more manageable. If anything, what bothers you most now is your lingering dislike for Veronica herself; there’s just something about her that grates on your nerves.

“Babes,” Pansy says, her tone full of disbelief, like you’re the only one who can’t see what’s right in front of you.

“You know I’d tell you if there was something going on.” You say, but even as the words leave your mouth, there's a flicker of doubt in your chest, as if the truth isn’t quite as simple as you want it to be.

“I guess so,” Pansy replies, still eyeing you with clear skepticism, her gaze sharp as if she's waiting for you to admit what you’re not even sure of yet. “Just so you know, I think he’d give you everything if you let him.”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Your conversation with Pansy hasn’t left your mind in days, and quite honestly, it’s driving you a little mad.

I think he’d give you everything if you let him.

You can’t quite tell if Pansy is subtly suggesting that Theo has feelings for you or if she simply likes the idea of the two of you together. Either way, her words have been playing on a loop in your mind, so much so that you’ve started to feel nervous around him.

Every time he looks at you or takes your hand, your thoughts scatter, leaving you utterly flustered. You’re trying your best to hide just how distracted you are around him, but Theo’s definitely noticed. This morning, when he leaned in to whisper something, your mind went completely blank, every thought consumed by him.

Him, him, him.

The warmth of his voice, the way his hand rested on the small of your back as he spoke—it was all you could focus on. The way his attention never wavered, how it was solely on you, made your heart race like it was the only thing that mattered in the room.

And when you failed to respond, he paused, concern flashing in his eyes as his brows furrowed. “You okay?” His voice was soft, genuine, and somehow that only made things worse. You had nodded quickly, plastering on what you hoped was a convincing smile, but inside, your mind was a chaotic mess.

Had he always looked at you that way? Like he was genuinely checking in, always quietly noticing when something was off? It made you wonder if you’d been blind to it all this time or if this was something new, something you’d only just started paying attention to.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you barely register when Mattheo bumps into you in the hallway. You cast a quick glance his way, ready to keep walking, but he reaches out, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling you back.

“Wait, hold on,” Mattheo says, his grip on your wrist warm yet insistent, his voice edged with irritation and disbelief. “Were you really just going to walk past me?”

“I’m not doing this right now.” You huff, pulling your wrist free from his grasp, trying to mask the frustration that’s been simmering for weeks.

“Doing what?” His voice hardens, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Talking to you.” You snap.

“Why the hell not?”

You feel a surge of irritation, meeting his gaze with a fiery glare. “Because you’ve ignored me for the past few months, Mattheo. Why should I care to talk to you now?”

“That’s not fair,” he mutters, his jaw tightening as frustration creeps into his tone. “It’s not that I’ve been ignoring you.”

“The last time we properly talked,” you snap, “you asked for your jersey back—the one you gave me.” The memory of it still stings, and you can’t help but throw it back at him. “So yeah, Mattheo, it’s more than fair.”

He frowns, clearly caught off guard by your words, his eyes flickering with something between guilt and disbelief. “Listen, I know we haven’t hung out much—”

“Are you being serious?” You scoff, folding your arms as if that could somehow shield you from the frustration bubbling inside. “You’ve practically disappeared, Mattheo. You’ve been too busy with your girlfriend to even notice anyone else.” You want to roll your eyes at the way he looks genuinely confused, like he's completely unaware of how he's hurt you.

He opens his mouth to argue, but you don’t give him the chance.

“You don’t get to be annoyed with me for not talking to you,” you bite out, your voice sharp with frustration. “Not when you’ve been doing the exact same thing for months.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I know I’ve spent a lot of time with her, but it’s the same for you and Theo.” His voice shifts, annoyance replacing the guilt. “You’re always with him. Holding hands, spending the night together-what the fuck is that by the way?”

You take a step back, the heat of his words catching you off guard. “We’re just friends, Mattheo. We’re allowed to hang out.” You keep your voice steady, even as your heart races at the accusation in his gaze.

“Friends? Is that really what you’re calling it?” He crosses his arms, the tension in his posture unmistakable. “Because it looks like more to me. You’re always with him.”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “And whose fault is that? You pushed me away, Mattheo. What did you expect me to do—just wait around?”

“I just don’t get why you’re always with him. You and Theo—" He cuts himself off, the words hanging between you.

You raise an eyebrow, challenging him to finish, but he stays silent, “Theo and I what?”

He takes a moment, his gaze hardening slightly, as if weighing his words carefully. “You know what? Forget it,” he says, shrugging dismissively. “I really don’t care what you two are up to.”

You scoff, crossing your arms tightly and shooting him a piercing glare. “Oh, come off it, Mattheo. You clearly care. And honestly, what does it matter to you if I spend time with Theo? You’ve been wrapped up in Veronica this whole time.” Your voice drips with sarcasm, each word punctuating the frustration bubbling inside you.

He falters, his frustration twisting into something more vulnerable for a split second before he shakes his head. Hearing her name seems to snap something in him. His jaw clenches, and he takes a slow, measured breath before looking back at you, his expression hardening.

Mattheo meets your eyes, his expression unreadable for a moment before he rolls his shoulders, dismissing the tension. “Honestly? I’ve got enough on my plate with Veronica. I don’t need to waste my time worrying about you and Theo.”

The words sting more than you expect, and for a moment, the air between you thickens with unspoken feelings and unresolved tension. “Right,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “Because you’re so busy.”

He turns away, shaking his head slightly, as if trying to shake off the conversation. “Whatever, just... do what you want.”

You watch as he steps back, the distance between you suddenly feeling too large, and you can’t help but wonder how badly damaged your friendship is—or what’s left of it. You’re so angry that you want to cry, and you’re grateful that the halls are empty as Mattheo walks away, leaving you to stand alone in the deserted corridor.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

You had promised Pansy you’d be ready in just a few minutes, but half an hour had slipped by while she was in the bathroom and you remained sat on your bed, lost in thought. Your gaze drifted to the pictures of you and Mattheo that adorned the wall, memories captured in each frame. The urge to rip them down clawed at you, but the thought of erasing those moments felt unbearable. Each smile, each laugh shared now felt tainted, leaving you uncertain of what to do with them.

The argument with Mattheo this morning replayed in your mind like a stubborn song on repeat, and the idea of facing him at the party made your stomach twist with anxiety. In all the years of your friendship, you’d rarely fought—occasional bickering was one thing, but this felt different, more profound. The sharpness of his words lingered, and a nagging fear took root: what if this was it? What if this marked the beginning of the end for a friendship you considered so strong?

“You said you’d be ready.” Pansy sighs, casting a disapproving look at the sweatpants you’re wearing. You hadn’t even heard her leave the bathroom.

You glance way from the pictures and send her a half shrug, “I don’t think I’m going to go.”

“Oh, you absolutely are,” Pansy’s heels click against the floor as she heads to her trunk. “If you stay here you won’t stop thinking about earlier.”

You don’t bother responding—you know she’s right. Pansy continues rummaging through her trunk, the sound of fabric rustling filling the room. After a moment, she straightens up, triumphantly holding a sleek dress in hand, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

She shoves the black, silky dress into your hands before pointing at the bathroom, “Go. I’ll find heels for you to wear.”

There’s no point in arguing. Instead, you make your way to the bathroom a slip into the dress, feeling the smooth fabric wrap around you. For a moment, you admire the way it hugs you in the mirror, the cut flattering your body type well. Stepping out, you give a little spin for Pansy, her approving smirk already forming before you even say a word.

“Merlin, that dress was made for you.” Pansy grins as she steps forward, handing you a pair of heels. You take them, slipping them on effortlessly, the added height giving you an extra boost of confidence. Before you can even react, she’s already fussing with your hair, smoothing out stray strands and perfecting every detail. With a quick swipe of lip gloss after making you pout, she steps back, giving you an approving nod.

You can officially call yourself ready.

Pansy laces her fingers through yours as you walk down to the common room. As soon as you step out of your dorm, the noise rushes in, chaotic and overwhelming. You hesitate for a moment, knowing Mattheo is probably at the center of it all. The last thing you want is to run into him after earlier, especially with Veronica around.

You’re relieved when you reach the bottom of the stairs that Pansy has already spotted Blaise, which means the rest of the boys are near. And you’re proven right the moment Pansy pulls you through the crowd. Your eyes land on the boys—everyone except Mattheo—gathered together in their usual spot, laughing and talking like they own the room.

Before you even realize it, your eyes instinctively search for Theo, and it doesn't take long to spot him. He’s leaning casually against the wall with a drink in his hand.

Your breath hitches as your gaze lands on the dark shirt rolled up to his elbows, highlighting his toned arms. The veins tracing down to his hands catch your eye, drawing you in deeper. And those hands—Gods, those hands. An unexpected longing surges within you, a sudden urge to lean into his side, to feel him wrap his arm around your waist, resting his hand on the small of your back, just as he often did.

Ever since his match a couple of weeks ago, it’s as if something has switched within you. No matter how hard you try, your eyes are irresistibly drawn to Theo Nott. It doesn’t help that he’s so attentive, always making sure to check in with you and holding your hand whenever you needed it. In the past couple of months, he has become the one person you feel safest with, the one you can share your thoughts and worries with without hesitation.

Your stomach drops the moment you notice he isn’t alone. A bitter taste creeps into your mouth as you take in the girl standing in front of him—she’s stunning, effortlessly leaning into his space, clearly flirting. A few months ago, you wouldn’t have cared, wouldn’t have given her a second thought, but now it’s all you can focus on. The way she laughs, the way she seems to command his attention—it stings in a way you’re not prepared for.

Without a second thought, you drop Pansy’s hand and head straight toward them. The closer you get, the more her light, flirtatious giggle grates on your nerves, each sound making your stomach twist with irritation. Every step tightens the knot of annoyance building inside you, your focus narrowing in on them, unable to shake the discomfort settling in your chest.

When you draw close to Theo, you reach out and lightly touch his forearm, your fingers trailing down his skin before intertwining with his. It’s a blend of flirtation and possessiveness, and you watch with satisfaction as the girl’s gaze follows your touch.

Theo glances at you, instantly recognizing your touch, but his breath catches in his throat as his eyes travel down your body. Taking in the way the tight black dress hugs your curves, he feels as if his breath has been caught in his throat. The way you’re staring at the girl—your expression unmistakably conveying ‘back off’—stirs something deep within him. He fights the urge to pull you close, his hand finding the back of your neck as he kisses you fiercely, wanting to make it clear that him flirting with another girl is not a possibility.

But he can’t do that.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt—” though you’re not at all. “But I’ve been looking all over for you.” Your gaze flickers up to meet Theo’s, and you catch him watching you with an amused, quirked brow, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Oh,” she says, straightening up, her expression shifting from surprise to something more calculating. “So the rumors are true? You two are together?”

“If you’ve heard we’re together, then why even bother flirting with him?” You challenge, your voice steady and laced with confidence.

Her lips part in disbelief, and her eyes flicker between you and Theo, who stands beside you, bringing his cup to his lips to stifle the amused smile threatening to break free. The corners of his mouth twitch, betraying his enjoyment, while you stand firm, radiating confidence in the face of her surprise.

She scoffs and turns to leave, causing your confidence to begin slipping away.

Now that it’s just you and Theo, the reality of what you’ve done is sinking in. There’s no way your little display of jealousy didn’t just fuel the rumors that the two of you are together. But not only that, you didn’t deny it when she asked. You keep your eyes on the girl walking away and sigh when you realize she’s gone straight to her friends, no doubt to tell them about how you acted.

“You’re going to have the whole school thinking we’re together.” His voice is soft but teasing, a hint of amusement lacing his words as he holds you close.

He releases your hand, sliding his arm around your waist as he pulls you into him. The move is bolder than usual, more daring than the subtle touches you’re used to from him, and you can't help but blame it on the drink he's holding. His grip is firm, warm, and it sends a rush of heat through you that lingers far longer than it should.

“I’m sorry,” you wince, biting your lip as you glance up at Theo. “I probably just ruined your chances of finding a hookup for tonight.”

In all honesty, you feel more relieved than sorry.

His brow arches slightly, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes. “Who said I was looking for a hookup?”

You scoff lightly, shifting in his hold, though his arm remains firmly wrapped around your waist. “You do remember we’ve been friends for years, right?” Your voice is teasing as you smile up at him.

Theo shrugs like he’s hardly bothered, his expression softening just a bit. “I haven’t hooked up with anyone in months,” he admits quietly, his voice sincere. The closeness between you feels more intimate than ever, the warmth of his body against yours making your heart race.

Suddenly your mind is jumping to the fact that the both of you have been hanging out for months. But there’s no way you’re going to point that out, so instead you smile at him softly before pulling away.

“I’m gonna get a drink. Do you want to come with me?” You extend your hand, and without hesitation, Theo clasps it in his, his grip warm and comforting.

It didn’t take long for you to feel tipsy; with the number of drinks you’ve had, it’s hardly a shock. Theo wasn’t drinking as much as you were, and he certainly wasn’t going to admit it was because he wanted to keep an eye on you.

Typically, he observed from a distance, leaning against the wall with a drink in hand, as you danced and laughed with Pansy and occasionally Enzo. But he realized he liked being the one that was next to you the whole night, and he’d enjoy the parties way more if this is how they all are.

You let out a sigh, and Theo’s brows knit together in curiosity as he looks down at you. You glance into your cup with a hint of disdain, contemplating whether to refill it. But just as you make a move to get more, Theo gently reaches out, stopping you in your tracks.

Earlier you had convinced him to dance with you, and it took plenty of ‘please’s’ on your end to persuade him. Really, the first time you said it had been enough, but he just liked how pretty it sounded falling from your lips. And once he grew tired of dancing, Enzo stepped in while Theo kept an eye on you as he chatted with Draco and Blaise. If he was tired, he couldn’t imagine how you were feeling.

You offer him a grateful smile as you settle back against the wall. Unfortunately, all the couches and chairs are taken, so you find yourself keeping watch, hoping a spot will open up while you take a breather from dancing with Pansy.

“That didn’t take you long.” You comment as someone leans against the wall next to you, but you’re surprised when you see Mattheo in Theo’s place. The sight of him immediately sobers you, and you find yourself standing up straighter, instinctively avoiding his gaze.

“I lied to you earlier,” He exhales slowly, and the tone of his voice reveals that he’s been drinking. He’s not drunk, but you can tell that the alcohol has certainly taken effect, adding a warm haze to his words. “I do care. I care a whole fucking lot actually.”

“No, I’m not doing this with you.” You cross your arms, glancing over at him and Mattheo shifts so he’s fully facing you with one shoulder against the wall.

“Do you know how hard it is to see you with Theo?” He asks, and you scoff, deliberately turning your gaze away from him. “You’ve got no idea how much it hurts.”

“I cannot believe you just said that to me.” Your head snaps to the side, disbelief flooding your voice as you look at Mattheo. “You have a girlfriend.”

“I know,” he replies, frustration creeping into his tone. “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“How you feel about me?” Your voice rises, the sarcasm unmistakable.

“I’ve liked you. For years.”

You let out a laugh, disbelief and shock coursing through you. “That’s not funny.”

His expression softens, and he steps closer, desperation flickering in his eyes. “I’m not joking. It’s the truth.”

“Really? You think this is how you show someone you care?” You shake your head, trying to grasp the absurdity of the moment. “You’re with someone else, Mattheo. You can’t just decide to have feelings for me while you’re with her.”

“But I didn’t just decide that while I was with her,” he insists, his voice low and earnest. “I’ve always had them. I tried to push it down, to ignore it, but I can’t anymore. Seeing you with Theo…” His voice trails off, frustration giving way to vulnerability.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” You sigh, trying to swallow down all your emotions. This is the last place you want to be having this conversation. In fact, you don’t even want to be having it at all.

“I want you to say you have feelings for me too.” Mattheo says and you stare at him in surprise.

Theo stood frozen a short distance away, gripping the fresh drink he had just gotten for you. He knew he shouldn’t be listening in, but when Mattheo confessed his feelings for you, he felt compelled to stay put, unable to move. A knot of dread twisted in his stomach as he braces himself for your response. He knew better than anyone about your feelings for Mattheo, and the possibility that they hadn’t completely faded hadn’t escaped him.

It’s over before he even gets a chance. Your feelings for Mattheo have always been there, and maybe it was delusional of him to think that you getting jealous over him and flirting all night meant he had a chance. But he really believed that your feelings might have changed.

“I can’t say that.” You nearly whisper, and Mattheo looks like you’ve just slapped him.

“Because you have feelings for him?”

His question hangs there, thick with emotion, and you can see the way his eyes search yours for an answer.

Theo doesn’t get to hear your answer because, as you move to get past Mattheo, you catch sight of him, and your face crumples with the weight of emotion, the glimmer of unshed tears evident in your eyes. A wave of concern washes over him, and before he can fully process it, you push past Mattheo, urgency guiding you forward. When you reach Theo, you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face against his shoulder, and he instinctively pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Can we leave? I don’t want to be here anymore.” Theo agrees without any hesitation. He glances up at Mattheo, who scoffs in clear irritation, their eyes locking for a brief, tense moment. Theo gently grasps your hand before guiding you through the crowd and to your dorm.

please please please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write, and reblogs help to spread my work 🤍

[crackedegotheories]

when there's smth strange in the new mark vid who you gonna call?

crackedegotheories!!!

(got thrown into a swirling rift in what I can only guess is the fabric of reality and told I needed to find an ax to help someone talking in blue lettered text)

You rang? (Side note, YouTube lost its notifications privileges with me, so I saw this message before I saw Mark's new video. It's probably the only reason I had enough time to type this post up before I head off to the airport, so thank you!)

Okay, to recap: We have a really weird drive by bee attack. No relation to the lore or anything, just bizarre. RIP, bee, you went out stinging. Then we have Mark talking about his love of being dropped into horrors beyond his imagining (not a masochist) and deep lore, before asking Lixian to show us something very deep--"throw them in the hole!"

Lixian says to the viewer, "I guess it's your turn to go into the hole" (my emphasis, we'll get back to that), before we go into a pink, flaming hole. It's tempting to draw the comparison to the wormhole from ISWM, but what's interesting is the color--the only time we see a pink wormhole in Space is when Wilford calls us a ride after ours, uh, was "mysteriously" stabbed.

Inside the hole, there are swirling clouds and flashes of blue lightning. Near the end, there's a break in the clouds that actually kind of looks like a side path to the left, but unlike In Space, we don't have an option of left or right here, we just plummet through the main hole to be met with darkness, and blue text.

"Help me", "Please, help me", and "Only you can find the axe."

Someone is asking for help, someone who claims that only the viewer can find the axe. So, let's talk about the axe, shall we?

First, we start with my boy, Damien:

In DAMIEN, the very first thing we see is Damien himself, chopping down a tree with an axe. This is apparently a daily thing for him, and he chops down a LOT of trees, but in the climax of the video when finally confronting Actor Mark, Damien doesn't have his axe. Instead, Celine arrives, using the axe to break through to Damien and, uh, giving it to Actor Mark to hold for a second.

Chronologically, the next time the axe is picked up is at the end of the fan game for Damien made by Lixian, just for Mark. At about the 48 minute mark, Damien/Dark sets his axe down as he's greeted by Wilford, which is then picked up by Lixian himself.

Lixian is scratched up, presumably from his fight with Lunky in 3 Scary Games #61 which has Lixian attempt to cage Lunky only for Lunky to break out.

It's in the following, unnumbered 3 Scary Games that we first see Lixian wield the axe, to split Lunky in half. (Brutal!)

He would then go on to use the axe in 3 Scary Games #64 and 65 to kill the horror abominations of Mark featured in those videos, and attempts to use it again in #66 only for it to bounce off.

Lixian tries to attack, and gets captured for his efforts, and we next see him in #75, waking up outside of the mysterious Plier Corporation and realizing he doesn't have his axe.

Since then, as far as I can tell in what time I have left to type this, the axe hasn't shown up again. It's missing, and someone needs our help finding it, but who and why?

Part of the explanation may lie with what the monster in #66 says at the beginning of the video: "The end is nigh. He has opened the door. The great Eldritch Plier is coming. Your end is here."

We get a hint at who this "Eldritch Plier" might be in 3 Scary Games #69, which begins with a man standing outside of a pink (!) portal, through which pops out Spider!Mark (one of the same creatures Lixian killed when he had the axe).

This man resurrects Lunky, its two halves barely clinging together, and the next time we see it is with Mark, who admits he doesn't actually remember making Lunky.

Lunky's most recent reappearance is in 3 Scary Games #103, where now whole again he uses the viewer as a sacrifice in his ritual to go back and seek vengeance, presumably against Lixian.

So the safe bet is that it's Lixian asking us to help find the axe so he can take on Lunky, right?

Except...why would he send us through a portal to tell us that? And why would he think we would be the only ones who could find it?

It would make more sense if someone else, someone who is well aware of the workings of the channel and the viewers' place in it, someone who may know of this Eldritch Plier and the danger he poses and shares his ability to summon portals, to do so.

Someone like one Wilford Motherloving Warfstache.

Or, y'know, Dark. He might also be involved.

[helloescapist]

(HELLO HELLO I HOPE YOURE DOING WELL!!💮 I HAVE A REQUEST FOR YOUU FEEL FREE TO IGNORE ME!!) so this is a KNY x kitsune uppermoon y/n!!

So the upper moons three (aka kokushibo, douma, akaza,) hearing about this new uppermoon demon and when kitsune y/n came into the infinity castle and introduced they're self they were really sly and cocky about it! What would there reactions be like??

(Also in this y/n uses a fan like douma but more detailed she is also a nine tailed fox in this!!)

(if you wanna add more stuff to y/n feel free to!! Just make sure you have fun and you are healthy!!)

-🦊

hello, hello 🦊

This is a very fun ask! I did my absolute best with what you gave me, and I hope that it meets your expectations! If you'd ever like to add more details to this reader feel free to stop by my inbox, I was a little pressed for time, and wanted to stick to as much of the details as you provided me. I had so much fun imagining a powerful, bold woman in the upper kizuki.

Beneath the Veil + Headcanons | The Upper Three Moons

Word count: 3237

Setting: Uppermoons x kitsunefemreader! (new addition to the Upper Moons)

Content Warnings: mentions violence/gore

Summary: the newly inducted, fourth moon introduced to the Upper Three Moons.

A/N: So, because the kitsune has a tendency to play back and forth from good to bad in Japanese folk tale, I chose to base the reader off of kumiho, the Korean fox demon as they are more prone to being depicted as maneaters).

The delicate hues of ambered glows that emerged from the darkness. Struct to life with a single cord, a note plucked from the night that gave birth to thousands of flames as though called damning phantoms to their duty. Cast to spent eternity in hell, guarding the depths of the hallway through the infinity castle. Glows that echoed across infinity, danced upon shadows across tatami mats. Traced silhouettes upon silk bound by lacquered panels. Deep walnuts met exquisite shades of wood that elicited the envy of foreign porcelain. Delicate as they were immaculately selected a testament to the lord of hell himself, soaked in the blood of innocents that had built the unattainable fortress; soaked with an ominous glow that threatened to snub the life of those who entered its corridors.

Each strike upon a chord a threat that abducted its victims from their refugee, dragging them to the depths of hell to answer their master’s call. A sharp note that once bore warmth, now a whisper of death’s welcome, the musician’s long lanky fingers danced across the strings. Nails gouged notes that screamed of treachery. Hair reminiscent of ink spilled in vein, dreams that would never attribute to any merit, music drowned by the depths of night to never be heard in the light of day as etched into the instructions upon her skin, and guided her siren calls. A single strum far more than capable of calling forth the undoing of man, devoid of emotion in each calculated placement. The upper ranks each a preference of their own space, save for the few.

              The attendees less than they had been in prior attendance, the caution she bid with each press of her rouged lips in greeting to the newly arrivals. The first Upper Moon savoring his space, and secrecy as he so often craved. A figment of past eras, poised as the markets that etched upon his skin and refined as the well-practiced long fingers that tipped the lavish ginseng tea to his lips. The lush spread of black hair that captured the envy of the night draped upon his shoulder. The compose straight of his back, perpendicular to the floor beneath him, his ankles tucked beneath him as straight as the line that formed at his lips. Content to himself, the notes of melancholy are a mere tune to enjoy in sacred solitude.

              Unlike the bickering of the two upper ranks before the biwa player. The second moon quickly seeks out the company of the third. Sunkissed hair, as pale as bright as the sun’s rays that met against sheltered, porcelain skin. Dewy flesh as soft as imported cotton, as lavish as freshly spun silk that met the highs of his thick ebony eyebrows. Playful iridescent eyes that captivated the light delighted in hues of kaleidoscope twinkled as they toyed with their prey. The number of his ranking etched into his irises. The wave of his hand jovial despite the tense atmosphere, and his voice as harmonious as the false kindness touched upon his features. Subtle childlike expressions that concealed the vile aspects of his personality, mocked sympathies as he whispered concerns to the stress lines that blossomed at Akaza’s brow. The tilt of his head projecting artificial concern, “Ah, I was so sad to hear of Hantengu and Gyokko.” Cooed as the way he attempted to draw near the Third Moon, the equip of betraying his façade. “I was so worried about you Akaza.”

              A mere growl the only evidence of speech dormant within the tense expression bore by the redhead. His doll-like crimson eyelashes furrowed dripping with spit as he averted his eyes from the taunting blight.  The markings at his brow crinkled, and creased at the highs of his cheeks, the shade of midnight etched into his flesh. Wrinkled at the grit of his teeth, the amber of his emblem eyes quivered at the clench of his muscles. Restrained trembles resolved agitation confined to the hierarchy embroiled on his mind from the prior meeting of the upper kizuki. The small growl of at the base of his throat, threatening the vein that drew at his temple.  “Oh dear, Lord Aka, you’ll wrinkle,” the predatory nature in which he considered drawing his nail at the outer marking upon the Third’s cheek, with draw upon the strike of a biwa cord resonating within his bones. The corner of his lips rid of any tease of concern, elicited amusement and joy. His canines revealed as the happiness emulated his features, “My, my, it would seem our new little fourth has arrived, I’ve heard rumors. I’m so excited to meet Lady [YN]. To think, she is so close to acquiring your rank, Lord Aka—” Shattered fist that drew upon the bottom of the Second Moon’s jaw. Snapped bones fragmented and teeth that struck the floor. Splatter of black blood, followed by the press of silence. The delight warm in the demon’s eyes despite the dislocation of his jaw torn from the hinges of his skull.

              “Akaza,” slow and stern. Deep and rich, drawn authority. “You will show respect.”

              The hum of his voice resignation in the quiver of his shoulders. The touch upon his vest offering no concealment, exposed to the calculating gaze of Doma, who merely delighted in the well place fear of his subordinate. The growth of his jaw snapped and grotesque as the grin that met at his teeth. “Ah, Lord Kokushibo, you’re so considerate, but please, we wouldn’t want to scare the little Fourth Moon.” Mocking, and depraved of sincerity the glint upon his gaze, a den of wolves at all angles. The first moon merely detached and appraising the arrival, the Third posed and ready threatened at the new arrival while the second merely delighted at his unease. Satisfied as the clank of the koma-geta intentionally drummed to the slants of the wood. Each step deliberately falling in line with music unheard by the remainder of the Moons.

              “Oh, don’t mind me,” warm and harmonious as the steps that echoed upon the wood flooring. Rouged lips as vibrant as blood matched only by the hue lingered upon your gaze. The compelling marking of your ranking etched into your eyes, drawn to predatory slants. Movements fluid and as the sway of your hips, unbothered by the delicate embellishments, gifts of slayed lovers catching in the lantern glows. Luminescent as the fires within your eyes, the pout of a smile forming, at the reveal of your upper thigh, the fold of your kimono exposing skin to the night air. Shoulders born, the draw of your hair long and luxurious. Intricately weave and revealing the lavish nature of odango, curled upon impossible lengths, questionable so, and hinting upon the figments of magic as the press of the fan, a false pretense of a docile woman. Conveying only one that cultivated your pray, drew attention to the depths of your clavical and the heave of your breast, as well as the canine that revealed in your smile more than enough to elicit the wrinkle of the Third’s nose, and the further grit of his teeth. Demure and coy as the roll of your shoulder in a mock bow, the bend of your knees in greeting to the Upper Tier moons.  The curl of tails falling at your back, toyed upon the steps you drew forward in greeting, poised in charm. The plush of your tails, traced upon by Kokushibo counting as they swayed, unable to conceal the nature of your being. The dangle upon the hair pins, harmonious, and musical each pitch falling upon the screams of torn lovers devoured in the dead of night on a rendezvous turned blood bath. The draw of their appeal tempting Doma to curl his fingers from one specific one. A delicate one, intentionally placed, as fragile as blown glass. Aged and polished, bearing an unspoken significance standing apart from the others as revealing as the smile Doma bore the callous of his finger drawing to allow its jingle.

              The snap of your fan swift, a clatter that drew Lord Kokushibo’s many eyes, observation and traced upon movements nearly missed upon Akaza’s. The threat poised in your stature, revealing the concealed lethality as your fan cupped under the Second’s chin forcing his jaw and his attention to your own. “Careful, I’m not certain you can afford my services.” Delicate and struck upon the biwa cord intended to maintain the façade of seduction slipped between venom.

              “Oh my,” Doma purred despite the obvious tension of disarray upon the Infinity Castle, predators poised, and mistrustful. None among you willing to entrust yourselves with one another, and such clear disrespect while portrayed as playfulness etched into unspoken territories. “They say, little foxes never reveal their true selves.” Delighted and warmed, allowing his chin to press into the fan at the quip of his grin growing dark and sinister as they traced the guarded the embellishment, “but there is always something that gives them away.”

Beneath the Veil Headcanons | Kokushibo, Doma, and Akaza

Initially, your presence has agitated Akaza. He places a significant importance upon his battle prowess, and any new addition to the Upper Moon draws his focus. Most commonly, it’s because he desires a challenge.

Adores the opportunity to combat a new opponent, especially one who is immortal, and able to rise night after night, and free him from his boredom.

However, in your case, the flow of your pride, and the confidence in each of your steps elicits his ire. The draw of your rouged lips, touched upon intentionally placed laughter, callous and artificial as the Second Moon’s, and at first, your resemblance to the upper rank is more than enough grounds for Lord Akaza to hold you in contempt.

The ranking just below his, he thinks, no is confident that he could eliminate you from the rankings if not for his Achilles heel. A woman amongst the Upper Ranks, while not impossible, or something he has not happened upon before, yet the dire situation that the Demon forces have found themselves against the Slayers, the opportunity to evade your existence as he had Nakime, and Daki is unlikely.

Close quarters, and frequent meetings he is stuck with the eyesore (you), and he is bitter. Aware that finding another replacement for the Upper tier will only elicit Muzan’s ire, and so he is left with little choice but to accept the stain of your smile upon his night.

Endure the taunting and teasing, regardless how much his skin recoils at the linger of your touch. Internal war, if only you were a male his stance would be far simpler.

Though of course, as a newly inducted Moon, you are unlikely aware of his aversion to women, and it’s easy to take such slights personally. Just as the way you conduct yourself leaves the impression that it is fully your intention to toy with him, only furthering his contempt.

Yet, as time goes on, and small details of each of your pasts, or positions are revealed whether in little slips of having to frequent each other’s territories, or one slipped from Doma, who just delights stirring the pot, you’ll discover that there is more to your compatibility than initially believed.

The reality is that you are both by nature in desperate need of trust to cement your bond whether romantically, friendship, or just work peers. But it will take so much time, or mere forced together orders from the Master for him to accept your partnership on various missions.

No matter how I look at it, tact-wise, Muzan is likely to keep you within Akaza’s vicinity. Ironically, Akaza believes he is safeguarding you when in reality, you’re his caretaker.

Intended to shield him from the depths of reality, and sweep away any potential female opponents that may stray into his range. It’s going to be difficult, and one full of back and forth cutting remarks. Both of you are prone to being fairly forthcoming with your communication and ires, and as such, communication is likely to flow quite a bit better than it would with the other moons.

Both of you are fairly adaptable, and makes the work relationship easier to navigate in the flow of battle.

As one who utilizes a fan, the only difficulty is that your fighting stances are a little more difficult to navigate, and will take trial and error. Especially as Akaza does not desire your assistance—nor accepts you as a warrior.

You are not prone to being on the wavelength, and butting heads will come rather routinely for the both of you, but I imagine that Akaza will falter in most disputes.

Not because you haven’t entirely pissed him off, but as he remains traditional at his core, and values the more historical entanglement men and women have had for centuries.

Although, admittedly, your inability to shy away from conflict may actually delight him.

I mean, he’ll never admit it, but you discover that he is far more willing to seek out your company, allowing more time to actually remain around you.

Seeks to protect you, though there are little threats aside from the remainder of the UpperMoons tha could pose a threat to your existence, and because of this, it won’t be difficult to catch on to the fact that Akaza actually just enjoys your company.

though he cannot articulate why that may be.

Oh the dynamic duo that draws exhaustion from all parties in your vicinity. He delights in your pluck, and is instantly smitten with you.

Oh, he delights in the banter, in the opportunity to go blow for blow. Unlike Lord Akaza, your gender means very little to him aside from the fact that if the Second were to perhaps take a small nibble… the thought has crossed his mind you will be delectable.

Far more delicious than those of his worshipers, or any courtesan.

Craves the moment in which he may finally infringe upon your bites. Though it will not be any time soon—you are in no rush to challenge him for his placement, and thus taking a nibble out of you will result in Lord First’s clear disapproval, Lord Akaza has more than expressed his disgust at his tastes, and he is certain that the Master would not accept searching for a replacement.

Which may secure his existence, but he’s not confident enough to make that bet, and so for now, Doma will just delight in peeking beneath the veil.

He has a natural talent for sniffing out the details you do not wish to dispose, such as the aged embellishment you safeguarded upon your meeting. It’s so pretty.

What if he were to break it?

Oh the thought gives him amusement, and because of this, he will push and play. Press nerves, but beneath it, the cold and guarded exterior you often display, is not fooling him.

Just as his false pretenses are not luring you to any deceptions any time soon, you are well aware that Lord Second is not as dimwitted as he pretends to be.

No, rather, you are so faithfully aware that the smallest part of you cannot understand how Lord Third does not see the way the cult leader lures him time, and time again.

You are both adapt at processing, and because of this, there leaves little missed opportunities for the both of you. An opening, and similar fighting styles will make for a lethal combination.

While you have the ability to seize tactical movements, Doma has the ability to prey upon emotional weaknesses, only furthering your opportunities.

Sadly, it’s the consistent skipping over small details that could lead to the downfall of the both of you. While Doma is more than willing to get to know you.

Oh he adores the challenge, and welcomes it as it comes, or he forces it. He so desperately seeks out company, perhaps due to his own upbringing and staleness of life, you offer a rare treat amongst the mundane, but if you are wishing for something more there will be a complication of how forthcoming Doma himself avers to be.

The real question is if either of you are willing to reveal your hands, but the teasing is more than delectable.

The oldest of the Upper Moons will show very little interest upon your arrival at first. The reality is that for the swordsman, many such as you have come, and gone just as swiftly as they have arrived.

He is aware you are a mere last minute addition composed of pressure from the Demon Slayer Corps, and as such, he has a tendency to meet your inclusion as little more than formality.

Keeping to the hierarchy, and unspoken protocol of the kizuki. Yet as you continue to linger, and force yourself into his company, little things such as expressing that you will be seeing him soon, and falling through with such sentiments is likely to gain his interest.

Especially if you follow more formal, traditional methods that are reminiscent of the Edo era. Intuitive by nature, the both of you have the ability to make decisions regardless of how complex the situation may be.

Such formalities, and flow of your time together, the way he finds himself allowing to come undone, and touch upon past selves, he’s curious. So to the point he would not admit to such, and yet, you have caught his attention.

For you, it is the fact that Lord Kokushibo, renowned for his reclusive nature has taken up an interest in you. While it’s true that he will not be changing his nature, nor can you expect him to grow more extroverted.

It is not who he is, and never will be, you will delight in the way he entertains your company. Quietly awaiting your arrival to his accommodations, the sudden appearance of a second tea cup upon your arrival, and engaged conversation.

You know you are warming up to him. The blunt approach to the both of your natures is a contribution to the flow of discussions, and as such there’s a warmth that comes naturally between the two of you should you only give it time.

However, that’s the catch. It will require a depth of time but you’re both immortal so… you are not one to dispose of your hand, cloaking yourself rather than readily reveal vulnerabilities, and the same can be expressed by the Upper Moon.

Your bond is one that is unspoken, and is as natural as the flow of the winds and breath within your lungs. A natural understood, able to see each other for who you truly are, and as long as you allow yourself the ability to accept the time it will take—you will find that your connection is one of sparks.

If it is a romantic connection you are seeking, you may find yourself savoring his touch, and the callousness of his hands. The quiet purse of his lips as he listens to your recent encounters, and the small smile that forms at his lips.

If it is not a romantic connection you desire, then you will find friendship will come just as easily, but ultimately, a work relationship will be one in passing.

Not a partnership in which you routinely work together, but rather a co-worker that you have a great repertoire with.

[talonabraxas]

Ehecatl : God of Winds

Ehecatl: Ignite your Passion

Ehecatl-Quetzalcoal (Ehecat) is the Aztec God of invisibility and intangibility who oversees the mysteries of passion and love.

In order to fully understand adult love one must experience loss in a personal manner. This takes place at all levels in our life. Last week the day Winds of Spirit arrived by UPS, I experienced a few losses as well: the front gates which house my former Healing Arts Center were stolen; my boss who provided the space to write the book took a new job at another company; and a tenant is leaving. Winds seek balance, and intensity will always swing towards disappointment or lethargy, then back again.

Seeds of passion sometimes grow in the ashes of disappointment, and later blossom into fragrant spring lilies. Like the wind, love, passion and relationships are also mysterious forces.

Aztec cosmology is built on the framework that there are five suns. Each sun represents a creation story in which humans are born, sustained and destroyed by the elements of nature; earth, wind, fire, water, and earthquake respectively. Ehecatl is one of the many faces of the Quetzalcoatl, the famed feathered serpent deity. In Nahuatl, Ehecatl means four winds, referring to the four cardinal directions.

Ehecatl presided over the second sun of creation that was called, “4 Wind.” During this period, human beings fell from the grace of the Gods and were destroyed by a hurricane. As Ehecatl blew, it swept away the debris, and those who survived were transformed into monkeys. Ehecatl reappeared in the Fifth Sun after the world was destroyed by fire.

Ehecatl traveled deep into the underworld and persuaded Mictlantecuhtili, the God of Death, to give back some ashes and bone. Ehectal mixed the bone with blood from the Gods and created humanity.

According to Aztec legend, Ehecatl snuck into the lower world, abducted the maiden Mayahuel, and brought her to the middle world. Their passion was so great that they became one and merged into a tree. Upon awaking from sleep Tzetzimutl journeyed to the middle world, pulled the lovers apart, shredded her grand daughter Mayahuel into pulp, and then returned Ehecatl to his rightful place in the wind.

”Whenever the wind blows, the Aztec believes it is an expression of Ehecatl’s desire.”

If Ehecatl appears as a longing East wind, it is time to listen closely to your heart.

East

If Ehecatl appears as a longing East wind, it is time to listen closely to your heart. New projects, new lovers, art and/or music will ignite your passion.

As a contrary wind, Ehecatl can remove worn-out love stories and soured memories that are preventing you from experiencing a new cosmic order in your life. It is time to examine your beliefs regarding love.

South

Ehecatl is fanning the flames of your innermost feelings and hidden desires. A willingness to love again will arise from the ashes. You are worthy of love and passion. Allow the mysterious thread of the universe to carry you into the next cycle.

Unlike Ehecatl, who was molded from a stone knife, you are an emotional being who thrives on love. In the contrary position, a howling Ehecatl is prompting you to open your heart to love. There is a wind-stirring deep within asking you to soften your heart in order to forgive those who have harmed you. Now is the time to heal the emotional scars left behind by abuse, loss, or abandonment.

West

Ehecatl brings the rains to nourish your crops, signaling the end of the dry season. Wash away your inhibitions, and rejuvenate your body with physical activity. Celebrate by dancing, hiking, gardening, swimming or sex.

When Ehecatl appears in the reverse position you are being offered forbidden fruit, so be alert and cautious. The sun may set on your goals if you merge with the wrong energies, as in the tale of Ehectal and Mayahuel.

Misguided passion and intrigue might pull you from your true path if you do not establish clear boundaries. Ask Ehecatl to help you to sweep away any blocks that stand between you and a bountiful harvest.

North

When Ehecatl blows in from the North, it is a sign that invisible forces are at work in your life. A soul mate isn’t necessarily your lover; it might be someone who has your back, no matter what troubles you may be facing. Enrich your life by connecting deeply with the people you love, and with those who have your best interests at heart.

In the contrary position Ehecatl points out that you are neglecting certain daily rituals which prevent you from keeping your spiritual life in order. Ask Ehecatl to help you understand the deeper aspects of your true self. It might be something as simple as rearranging your altar, planning a vacation or going on a spiritual retreat. Ehecatl : God of Winds ART: Corazon Mexica @MiCorazonMexica

The creation of bats. This is a new painting, which is part of a cycle of paintings that tell the story of the birth of flowers. It begins with Quetzalcoatl, who is the wind and creation, pleasuring himself on the banks of a river. His seed falls upon a stone, and from the stone is born the first bat. When the bat emerges from the stone, he asks it to go to Tamoanchan, the 12th heaven, and bring him back the “flower” of Xochiquetzal, who is love and flowers. The bat is thus the child of the wind and of the earth, and the story goes on to describe this theft, and describe the origin of flowers and menstruation.

[flightofaqrow]

tag refresh, ships

(reminder that ‘+’ denotes platonic dynamic)

[j4jml]

“Set your life on fire. Seek those who fan your flames.” – Rumi

The Fire 19/06/2024 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain

[dingochef]

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), Angst with a Happy Ending, Stalking, P in V, oral (female and male receiving), Semi-public sex, light spanking,

Word Count:  2.5k

Summary: The jackass you wrote off last night seeks you out for an apology. At least you get a baseball game out of it.

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: I'm just here for the baseball.

You're coming back from your  morning run, endorphins pumping through your body, when a text notification from an unknown number flashes across the screen of your phone.  

Unknown Number: Hey, it's Jake the Jackass from the bar last night.  Just wanted to apologize again and thank you for the apparently needed ego check.

You: Glad I could provide some much needed grounding.  How did you get my number?

Unknown Number: Lydia ended up back here with Rooster last night.  I asked her when she briefly emerged from their sex den.

You: Ahh sweet traitorous Lydia. Anyway, I accept the apology.  Bye and have a nice life.

Unknown Number: That's abrupt, lol.  Let me try to redeem myself at least.  I've got two home plate tickets to the Padres game today.  Interested in joining me?

You consider the offer, a free ticket to a game and something to do this afternoon.  In an unusual fit of impulse you grab your phone and reply.

You: Sure, why not.  I'll meet you at the entrance opposite the convention center at 12:30.  

Unknown Number: Sounds great, it's a date. See you then.

You: It's not a date, it's amends.  Especially if I buy the beer.

You don't receive a response.  you save his number in your phone as Jackass, Jake in the last name first format.  

Jake the Jackass has such a nice alliteration to it.  Looking at the clock you've got just enough time to clean up, shove some food down your gullet, and catch the ferry from Coronado Island over to the stadium.  

It's a beautiful day that happens more often than not in San Diego when you get off the ferry and walk towards Petco Park.  You can see Jake waiting from a distance, he's easy to pick out with the ramrod military posture, sun lightened blond hair waving gently in the wind, and those ubiquitous aviator sunglasses.  Are they contractually required to wear them all the time?

You're about 50 feet away when he spots you and you can see the smile bloom in his face in recognition as you approach.  He opens his arms for a hug and to your own surprise you reciprocate the gesture.  The warmth of his hand seeps through the light cotton sundress you chose for today and almost sears where your bare skin meets his.  With the sensible sandals you're wearing he's almost a foot taller than you and you feel very small, yet safe in his arms.  Again you get the woodsy smell of his aftershave and think how nice he smells.  He pulls back and says, 

"I wasn't sure you were going to come.  Thought you might want to finish grinding my ego into the ground."

You laugh and reply, 

"I keep my word.  Besides I figure anyone who's enough of a glutton for punishment to try again is probably worth a second chance. That and a tiny soft spot in my heart that decided at least I get out to a Padres game. It's hard to find someone to go with sometimes."

You start walking towards the turnstile to enter the stadium.

"Lydia and Beth, not big sports fans?" He asks.

"Hardly, the funny thing is that I work with a whole lot of dudes who love baseball, but I just can't imagine spending time with them outside of work without them getting the wrong idea."

"What idea would that be?" He asks waggling his eyebrows.  

You point at him,

"That one.  For some reason I can't just hang out with a guy from work without them thinking it's more than just someone to hang with and watch some baseball.  They try to make it more and it gets real awkward at work when I don't reciprocate. I dated one guy from work and it got pretty serious before it went down in spectacular flames." 

You make explosion gestures with your hands. 

"Ended up leaving that job, it got so bad, but that led me to your  job at Lockheed Martin so it works out in the end." 

You take a deep breath, you usually don't reveal that much personal info so early.  You know you have trust issues. Jake's brows have furrowed into what you read as anger when thinking about some long ago asshole. For some reason the thought of him wanting to kick some guys ass for you makes you feel fuzzy, then you can feel your  feminist brain sigh in disappointment. Sensing the mood has shifted too far towards serious, you laugh your nervous laugh, and point over to the concession stand and ask, 

"You got drinks last night so it's your  turn.  What do you want?" 

Jake surprisingly goes along easily with your offer and says, 

"Stone Hazy IPA."

Most guys seem affronted that you want to pay your fair share for a date, another ex had called it emasculating when you bought  dinner or drinks and for the fact that you made more money than him.  You pick a lighter lager from Ballast Point along with a bottle of water. 

You've settled into your seats, drinks in tow just as the pregame announcements start.  The national anthem plays and you see just how ingrained military habits can be when Jake rises automatically to that perfect posture and removes his sunglasses and raises his hand over his heart and sings surprisingly well along with the music.  His voice is mellow and deep and just a charming amount off key in a couple places of the song.  An image of you lying your head on his naked chest and feeling that voice reverberate flashes through your brain.  Quickly, you shake it away to applaud the end of the anthem and the first pitch.  

"These seats are great," you offer to keep the conversation going. You're just far enough down the third base line that we've got a good view of the batter, but still close enough to action that we can hear the catcher trash talking the batters. 

"How'd you score these?"

"One of my buddies has season tickets, but got called out to a new assignment and knew I was going to be in the area so he gifted me the rest of the season since he can't use them."

"Nice friend, if you've got these seats all season, I might be more likely to hang out with you again."

"Aha, so the way into the Ice Queen's heart is through baseball, who knew?"

"I've got a few passions in life, you just have to dig a little deeper to get to know them. So, I've got a question, how are you so well acquainted with Frozen?  You’re not exactly the market demographic for Frozen.  Are you a secret super fan of Disney?"

He laughs, 

"Not a secret super fan of Disney, although the Lion King did break my   little 10 year old heart.  First time I cried at a movie.  I've got two nieces who are eight and five.  Right in that target demographic. I babysit them occasionally when I'm back in Texas."

"So what does the Seresin family situation look like?" you ask. 

"Painfully middle class white, my  parents have been married since the beginning of time, met in college. Had my brother pretty early, and a few years later I came along.  Dad was a doctor, my older brother is too. Mom had a Physics degree from UT but never had a chance to use it as she stayed home with us and didn't work.  Grew up in Austin as the all American family."

"Wow, high achieving family.  Imagine being the disappointment as a fighter pilot."

"Who says I'm the disappointment?  Mike is just a doctor." He says in mock offense.  

"What does the…I don't even know your last name.  I just saved you as Elsa Ice in my phone."

You give him a mock glare, "Matthews, so you can correct that now.  To be fair I saved you as Jake Jackass in my phone.  We'll see how the day goes to see if you upgrade that status. The Matthews family is also painfully bland and white.  My Dad retired from the Navy after his service in Vietnam, came back to Michigan and met my mom at a house party at Michigan State.  Dad's an automotive engineer and Mom taught high school math for many years. Grew up in a Lansing suburb.  I'm the oldest, I have a sister who's 3 years younger than me.  She's a tattoo artist in Chicago."

"That's at least a little bit interesting, do you have any of her work on you?"

A mischievous smirk creeps onto your lips as you respond, 

"Yeah, I've got a few pieces of hers on me.  She's the only one I'd ever let tattoo me.  I'd show you, but that would probably earn me a public indecency ticket." 

You slyly wink at the last sentence and enjoy the way Jake slightly chokes on his beer as the thought registers.

After a slight coughing fit, Jake regains his smooth demeanor.  "As you informed me last night you've got a PhD in aerospace engineering from Stanford, did you go to Michigan State for undergrad?"

"Nope, love my family dearly but I needed some distance so I went to Notre Dame. "

He laughs and you can see those charming laugh lines peeking out from the sides of his aviators.  "I get that, I've got some family legacy in the Air Force and wanted to earn my place on my own merits, not on my last name."

"You go to the Naval Academy  then?" 

He nods in the affirmative, 

"That must have been anarchy when you made that choice."

He chuckles at the memory, 

"Nearly gave my grandfather a heart attack and almost got my ass beat by uncles and cousins.  But I kind of enjoy being the black sheep."

"Yeah, my dad blew a gasket when I got into Notre Dame.  He thought he was going to have to pay for it all, private out-of-state tuition made his mind melt, but luckily I got an athletic scholarship that covered most of it."

"What sport?" 

Before you can reply there is a high foul ball headed towards your seats.  You're seated closer to home plate than Jake and you instinctively stretch your  arms up to try and catch the ball.  It's coming closer and you can see that it's going to sail over your  head.  You, for the millionth time, curse your  shortness.  Suddenly you feel strong hands on your waist and you're being propelled up high enough to catch the ball.  You catch the ball with a satisfying thud and whip your  head around to see how you're presumably flying in the air.  Jake is holding you as high as he can above his head with his long arms. His muscles are rippling but not trembling, the thought of how he could hold you up easily while fucking you against a wall flashes through your brain and a flush of heat rolls down your body and straight to your  pussy.  You almost drop the ball at the thought as he returns you to the ground.

"I didn't expect that, the foul ball or the complimentary flight."

He shrugs, 

"It was all you, I just gave you the boost."

"Well, thank you. I've never caught a ball at a game.  This is going to be an excellent addition to my desk on Monday, it'll inspire so much jealousy among my coworkers."

The game continues on at the easy pace of baseball, plenty of time to talk but not miss the action. The Padres are playing the Milwaukee Brewers so it gives you a chance to talk about your mom's roots in Wisconsin and the family legacy of cheese making.  

"So, you’re telling me that you’re the first person in five generations of your mom's family not to work in a cheese factory.  That is so Wisconsin it hurts." He can't stop laughing maniacally at the thought.  you give him a mock punch on the arm as you roll your eyes.  "I might be changing your name in my phone to Elsa Cheese Queen." He is laughing so hard that he takes his aviators off to wipe at his eyes.

"Oh my god, you’re turning into a lobster.  Did you put any sunscreen on today?"

"No, thought didn't occur to me."

"What is it about guys and sunscreen? Nobody remembers, here I've got some in my purse."

You pull out a small tube of sunscreen and pull his hand over to squeeze some on his fingers.  He attempts to slather it on his face leaving a few big globs along his jawline.  

"Here, let me help you with that."

You reach out and blend the sunscreen along his jawline, your fingers graze over a hint of stubble.  Your apparently overactive and very horny brain sends the thought of feeling that stubble tracing up your  thighs.  You let the thought linger and quickly hand the tube to Jake and stutter out, 

"Now do me." 

You mentally cringe at the innuendo, "My back," you quickly amend and turn in your seat to present your  back to him.  You can feel the cool lotion spread across your  back with calloused hands, he gently moves the thin straps of your sundress to make sure he doesn't miss a spot.  Horny brain is already piecing together scenarios where that is your bra strap and is followed by exploring lips.  Rational brain manages to squeak out a thank you and retrieve the sunscreen from Jake.  You settle back into your  seat and Jake rests his arm on the back of your  seat.  You let it stay.

The game ends with the Padres winning 8-4. You're shuffling out of the game and your stomach growls.  In another one of those moments of impulse you'll attribute to your horny brain you ask, 

"Are you up for a bite to eat? I know a good tapas place a few blocks from here."

Jake is visibly surprised at your invite, he smiles as he replies, 

"Yeah, that sounds great. I must have grown on you if you're wanting to spend more time with me. I half expected you to bolt the minute the game was over."  

He smirks and cracks that toothpaste smile that you immediately rename the panty dropper.  

"Ah yes, like a cute little fungus, you've grown on me.  You’re not so bad, once you drop the smug idiot act."

"Fair, I can work with that…so does this mean you’re asking me on a date?"

You pause and lower your  sunglasses, it's your  turn to be smooth for once in your life.  

@mayhemmanaged

"Why yes, Jake Seresin, will you go on a dinner date with me?"

Chapter 3

@callmemana

@hangmanscoming

@lanie-k

[wordsintheattic]

“Set your life on fire. Seek those who fan your flame”

— Rumi

[rist-ix]

Hi Rist~

So this is a bit morbid… And it’s not exactly related to your fics, but Imma ask anyway because you are the All Knowing Winx god.

What do you think would happen to the Dragon Flame if Bloom died? Like, before Domino was revived and while she is the only remaining survivor.

I’ve been curious about this for a little while now and I honestly don’t know who else or where else to ask this.

Also hope you’re doing well and life isn’t bullying you! Lots of love from your #1 Fan 💙

GIRL. GIRL YOU HAVE NO IDEA IVE PLANNED AN EXACT FIC ABOUT THIS IM PLANNING TO WRITE AFTER TBHTBH but I’m nothing if not a slut for validation so ahhahahaha have an excerpt without context right now

“You could always wait for the next guardian. Manipulate them instead. You're like, what, a hundred years old? Can’t be too hard to wait until I have children.”

In the corner of her eyes, she can see something hard pass over his face, something like a snarl. It’s gone when she turns around, replaced by his carefully composed half-smile. [visible at all/ re: ch3]

“I'm flattered you think me so young, and a little appalled at your lack of education. If Faragonda taught you anything about your realms history, you'd know I’m past half a millennium now.”

His smile turns into a smirk.

“Besides. Your mind is a rather dull place, compared to the splendor of the dimension I spent those centuries in.”

She rolls her eyes, but returns to her task without dignifying him with a reply. If the past [time] has taught her anything, then that Valtor is incapable of remaining silent for long.

“You are awfully optimistic, little fairy.”

“Occupational hazard.”

He's waiting for her to ask him, she knows. He loves to see her seek him out, to ask him questions and beg for his wisdom. It's not like he has many alternatives for conversation, so she decides to humor him.

“What exactly makes you say that?”

“Your confidence that any of your potential offspring would inherit your powers.”

[clipped. Edit here]

She frowns, her hands faltering.

“What do you mean? The Flame is heritable, isn’t it?”

“The Flame,” he says, “is the birthright of the ruler of Domino. It has been passed down in your family, so it always was the royal line. But it has skipped generations before, sometimes disappeared for centuries at a time. And that was before the fall.

“Without Domino, what purpose does it serve?”

Something cold, heavy seems to settle in her chest.

“You think I could be the last.”

“I am not willing to risk it. If the Flame disappears, I will perish as well, won’t I?”