#Beneath a Soulless Moon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunmoonjune · 2 years

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the kingdom of dawn

synopsis: this is a description of the petrichor universe in which my demon!ateez au [dewdrops at dawn] takes place. this will function as a masterlist to fics from this universe as well as information about demons, angels, the world, etc. this is mostly a lore piece, so there is not a lot of the reader in this

warnings: though some of ateez’s demon forms are inspired by obey me! their personalities are not, so in terms of the sins they rule over, they will not be the same as the obey me!demons. this piece details about the fictional world of the petrichor universe and about some of its species so there are mentions of supernatural creatures, as well as blood and death as well as war and killing (kept vague). they are demons, please be warned they will occasionally act like it.

The red strings of fate are knotted tight around your soul as your decision is made. When your hand meets the one reaching out, waiting patiently for your grasp, every nerve-ending in your skin seems to catch fire. Their skin is pleasantly warm beneath yours, but the heat in your body emerges from your heart rather than your hand. The ‘soulbond,’ as the sun-moon being called it, pulls tightly in your chest. It swells with waves of warmth and emotion, before it settles snugly around your heart.

The muscle thumps rapidly beneath your ribs, feeling as though a knot had been cinched firmly around its flesh. Your fingers flex around those gripping yours, and the thread in your chest seems to flutter as if someone had strummed the strings of a guitar. It’s a strange, but not unwelcome sensation – especially since the warmth that it provides makes you feel a little giddy. After a beat, the hand in yours offers a squeeze in response and that same string seems to vibrate.

They’re tugging you forward.

With a gentle pull of your fingers, the hand guides you toward them and into the darkness that shrouds the celestial doorway. Despite your racing heart and the bite of fear eating at your stomach, you take a determined step forward.

The bond swells. It presses into your throat and fills every inch of your form, feeling like a warm blanket settling over your aching muscles. It sinks deeper, saturating your soul and nestling sweetly beside your heart - a muscle of its own, firmly attached to both your soul and your mind. They squeeze your hand again, and somehow you understand that something similar has happened to your unknown guide.

You wish you could see their face.

In the darkness beyond the doorway, you see nor feel nothing besides the warm grip of fingers in yours. It’s an empty expanse of space – soulless and lifeless, barren if not for the guiding touch of your savior.

They show you the way, firmly grasping your hand and refusing to relent in their pursuit forward. For some baffling reason, you trust them. Their guidance is the only thing binding you to this plane of existence, and their touch seems to activate that soulbond in your chest. You are not unaware of the implications of this bond - a string always has two ends. If this person is the other end of your thread - or seeks to guide you to it, you’ll follow them without question.

Though, you faintly wonder why the knot in your heart tugs in different directions. Perhaps, it’s not a single string? The possibility of several threads tying you to another is a little mesmerizing, and you shake off the question before you become too confused.

As the hand persists, your vision is blurred by the sudden appearance of a small bright light in the distance.

It’s faint, but you can vaguely see where shadows disappear into the alabaster shine of some form of light. There’s another sweet tug of the string in your chest, and you find yourself smiling and trying not to stumble over your feet as the form seems to pull you with a renewed surge of excitement.

You nearly giggle at their elation, and offer a squeeze of your hand in acknowledgement.

As you approach the light, your head seems to swell - like the beginning of a headache that leaves your vision blurry and your thoughts scrambled. It’s a little difficult to continue forward, but your guide is kind. With your vision starting to blur, the light growing closer but far more cloudy, you don’t see the shadow of seven more forms beyond the dark expanse.

They’re waiting for you.

Just beyond the other side of this soulless space, there are seven more people waiting patiently for you to emerge in their world. They fidget anxiously, swaying on their feet and chewing on their lips as they await the return of their leader as he left to guide you back into their realm. It’s been far too long, and they’ve grown so lonesome without your presence at their side.

As the light closes in, your eyes slide shut as you cross the border into a new world, an anxious tension keeping them closed until you reach your destination.

Your first glimpse of the Kingdom of Dawn is through rays of golden light arching across the sky as the sun begins its morning journey from one end of the Earth to the other, and the frosty chill of air at the first break of sunrise settles over your skin, cooling your flesh as they cling to the warmth of first light – just like dewdrops at dawn.

*:･ﾟ About the Kingdom of Dawn ･ﾟ:*

This kingdom is home to the immortal world of demons and angels alike. However, it is likely not the same story the human world may portray. You see, demons are not the dark, sinister creatures many tales make them out to be – likewise, angels are not being of elegance and kindness.

In the Kingdom of Dawn, demons can hear your prayers just as well as angels can, however you may never know if they were the one to answer. Demons can live amongst the humans, not bound to the celestial realm as the angels are. Able to switch between a demon form and a human one, they can look just like any other stranger on the street.

In their demon forms, most demonkind have a few defining features, but each is different - just as each human is different.

Most demons have a set of wings, horns and tail - they’re commonplace amongst their kind. Wings can be of different sizes and shapes: feathered, bat-like or scaled are just a few prevalent kinds. Horns and tails are quite the same, and each demon’s will be slightly different. But be warned, many demon’s tails have hidden stingers, and neurotoxins are not uncommon venoms in the Kingdom of Dawn. Try not to get stung!

Most demons communicate with their tails much like a cat – they flick and jump based on their emotions, but are typically far more prehensile than that of a cat. This allows them to curl their tails around objects, and depending on the type of tail, the muscles of their tails can be used to squeeze tight - a dangerous implication.

The extra appendages of demonkind are extremely sensitive - especially wings. Most devils will not allow these appendages to be touched by anyone but their mates. Touching a demon’s wings can be seen as signs of accepting a soulbond. In addition, wings are very important to a demon. They are used in nearly every aspect of life, including mating, hunting, and determining status. Many demons care for their wings and extra appendages with excruciating care. However, tending to these extremities is a personal matter, only shared between mates and lovers.

A demon’s eyes will also no longer have an iris or pupil: eyes belonging to a demon are solid black. The teeth of demonkind are also slightly different; their canines are elongated in demon form, giving their grins a flash of fangs.

Some demons, depending on their strength and power, will have other features. It is said that the High King of Hell has golden jewelry embossing the structure of his wings, for example. Additionally, in their demon forms, each of the rulers of this kingdom has a glimmering crown that manifests around their horns. Each circlet is different, and some crawl up their horns rather than filtering around.

All demons are considered much stronger than humankind. Each devil is born with heightened strength and stamina, and they are considered much taller than humans. Their enhanced skills also extend to healing as well. Most demons can heal superficial wounds, like cuts and scrapes, in a matter of seconds. Other injuries can be healed just as quickly, depending on the strength and power of the demon.

Additionally, some demons can hold great magical capabilities depending on their power. The extent of their powers depends on the demon. The eight rulers of Hell are known for their extensive magic and incredible power, but not many know of their special abilities.

There are several other traits that separate demons from humankind, including the sounds they make. The vocal cords of a demon are formed differently from other species. These differences allow them to make more sounds than many are capable of. This distinctive set of vocal cords was created to aid their kind in Infernal speech - the language of Hell. This dialect is made up of sounds that humans cannot replicate. A mix of hisses, growls and monstrous sounds catalog Infernal speech, and they cannot be reproduced by any other species - making Infernal unique only to demonkind.

While they sound remarkably frightening, demons are not all dark and sinister beings.

Devils can be kind, just as any human could. Despite their stories, most demons don’t actually interact with humans beyond being summoned. Choosing instead to reside in the darkness of Hell, demons are not solely responsible for the chaos of the human world. Deals between a demon and a human are quite rare, and seldom affect the balance and order of the world.

A deal made with a demon is an eternal pact. Once a deal is made, it cannot be broken without immense difficulty for both parties. There is no confirmed record of a deal with a devil ever being broken. There is not much knowledge on this matter, and the manner in which deals are made cannot be confirmed - nor the price that is to pay for such a deal. However, if a deal is made, all those involved will be marked with the tattoo of a chain. It wraps around the left wrist, winding upwards towards the elbow, leaving a link open at the base of the inside of the wrist. This link will connect to the chain of the tattoo on the other parties involved. The tattoo marks a deal, and binds all those involved - unbreakable and eternal.

However, soulbonds between a demon and a human are less rare.

When a soulbond snaps between a demon and their partner or partners, it is an eternal bond that cannot be broken - even by death. Demons will love only their chosen soulmates, and being separated from their mates by great distances or death is extremely painful. However, not all demons will meet their mates. Only the guiding touch of fate and the red string binding their heart can tell.

Some say demons are some of the fiercest and most protective of lovers. Relationships are eternal and demons will love their mates beyond even their dying breath. However, though it may be difficult to kill a demon, it is not wise to get between a demon and their mate unless you crave a fate worse than death. Demons are protective to the end.

Most demons will mark their mates with a pact mark.

Pact marks are sigils of a bond between mates. Like a werewolf’s bite, a pact mark will show other demons that the chosen recipient is protected. Through a pact mark, the soulbond is enhanced, allowing some conscious thought to be exchanged between mates in addition to emotion.

The sigil of pact marks are typically the rune of the demon’s true name. The runes are transcribed in Infernal, so it cannot be read by many others than those in Hell. The pact mark will appear on the recipient’s skin in the form of a tattoo. Locations and sizes of these marks are important and can have several different meanings.

Demons are immortal beings - from the moment they are created, they will not succumb to physical aging beyond maturity (typically around the age of twenty-five). They can still be killed, but not so easily as humans. In fact, most literature that detailed how to slay demons was destroyed many centuries ago. The knowledge has been lost to all but a few. Most believe that the only thing that can kill a demon is an angel.

In comparison to demons, angels are far more involved in the human world.

While demons keep to themselves, choosing not to be involved in the fates of humankind, angels believe it is their right and duty to create a ‘pure’ world. Unless given an order by the archangel Michael, angels remain in the Celestial Realm. However, there is very little information regarding this realm or the business of angels beyond their mission in the human world. They are bound by their creator to exterminate any being that does not hold purity in their heart. No definition has ever been provided for what angels believe to be ‘pure.’

Angels appear differently to every human, but most who survive encounters with such creatures typically entail imagery of multiple sets of wings and clusters of eyes, both unseeing and all too invasive. If you ever encounter an angel, your best bet for survival is to pray to a demon for safety, and hope your heart is pure enough for salvation.

It has been said that the blood of an angel runs gold rather than the scarlet ichor of other species. Though, not many can claim to have seen an angel bleed - angels are extraordinarily strong, propelled by enhanced speed and strength like demonkind. However, despite their strength, it is not difficult for demons to slaughter angels. They can be killed like any other species, and do not possess the healing abilities of a demon.

No one knows what happens to angels after death.

Like a demon, angels’ vocal cords are more suited for a different language. They often have trouble forming the sounds used in human tongues, and typically only speak in a horrifying succession of clicks and screeches. In the rare instance human speech is used, the sound is scratchy and raw - terrifying in an entirely different manner.

Other creatures that may prowl through the Kingdom of Dawn include hellhounds, wraiths, reapers, little demons known as ‘little Ds,’ and many more. Some say there are dragons guarding the borders of the kingdom, but they’ve never been seen by anyone but Hell’s rulers.

In Hell, the High King presides over the entirety of the realm. The seven princes, though not actually ‘princes’ by definition as they are not related in any manner, each rule over one of the seven rings. The rings are divided into categories that are best described as the seven sins: pride, greed, envy, wrath, lust, gluttony and sloth. However, the scope of each of these rings extends beyond just the manner of sin.

Other demons in the Kingdom of Dawn are divided into these sins. Each demon is born into a specific sin, but it does not define their personality or traits in any way. These classifications simply aid in deciding the capabilities of each demon. For example, a demon of lust is more suited to become an incubus rather than a dream-eater. However, their classification does not limit their ability to hone different capabilities.

Additionally, no one knows which of the sins each prince was assigned at birth, aside from a few. While they rule over a certain ring, it is not clear if their presiding sin matches the ring in which they rule.

Everyone is too afraid to ask.

Though rare, some demons do savor the taste of human flesh. It is not common, as they do not encounter many humans, but some demons will hunt humans. There is little a human can do to protect themselves against a demon, unless guarded by another species. However rare they may be, it is best not to wander Hell alone.

In Hell, the realm may be different from the flame-riddled agony of myth, but it still varies from the human world in some aspects.

For instance, the sun only illuminates the sky for a few short hours of the day - between a few hours around high noon. Without the sun, much of Hell is lit by vibrant lights that mimic the sun. Most are powered by magic, and those in the royal palace are fed by starlight.

Much of the Kingdom of Dawn is similar to the human world in terms of structure – the land is not drastically different (though there are still sunken, fiery pits in each ring for those who have committed atrocities). Seasons still change in Hell, though they are slightly different given the lack of constant sunlight. In addition, some human plants still grow well in Hell. They are less common, however, and you will more likely find Hell’s native plants.

For humans living and visiting the Kingdom of Dawn, there are few drastic differences to account for. Of course, if you can avoid the hungry gazes of lower demons, best negated with a ruler of Hell at your side, you won’t have too much trouble in this kingdom.

*:･ﾟ About the Rulers of Hell･ﾟ:*

Choi Jongho, one of the seven ‘princes’ of Hell, rules over the lowest of the seven rings. These rings are not constructed in a manner of superiority, so the level of their position does not equate to their power or rank. The rule of each section was designated based on birth order, so as the youngest of the eight rulers, Jongho was assigned the last ring: sloth.

While he may be the youngest, Jongho is irrefutably one of the strongest of the ruling demons. Based on muscle capacity alone, Jongho can easily outrank his partners in strength. In addition, the youngest was named the General of Hell’s army soon after being named ruler of the seventh ring.

Jongho’s demon form consists of massive, dark wings that fade from an obsidian black to a scarlet red at the ends. Some lower ranking demons have described the general’s wings as though the membranes were dripping with the sticky ichor of blood. The tips of his wing’s claws are incredibly sharp, and the inky color also reflects a scarlet shine when the sun illuminates them.

Jongho’s long, prehensile tail is barbed at the end - sort of like the human world’s sting rays. The barb is difficult to see when relaxed, but even harder to avoid when at the general’s mercy. Be wary – his stinger is laced with a potent neurotoxin with only one cure. His tail is the same deep black color of his wings, and the barb can be hidden beneath the skin of the underside - leaving his opponents ignorant of the awaiting venom. Jongho’s tail is a little longer than some of his mates, and can sometimes be seen dragging across the floor of the palace - if it is not very carefully wrapped around one of his mate’s legs.

The horns of the youngest of the demon rulers curve upwards away from his head. They bend outwards in a single curve before ending with the points skyward, tips sharp and scarlet - matching the faded obsidian of his wings. The dark color of the bottom of his horns blend seamlessly into his black hair, and when the sun shines directly on his figure, you can catch little glimpses of red highlights.

Jung Wooyoung presides over the next of the seven rings, and as age order dictates, the next sin: gluttony. Wooyoung is one of the demons that most believe was not born of the sin they rule. No one quite believes Wooyoung is a gluttony demon, and there have been several rumors attempting to guess his actual sin - to which Wooyoung will never reveal.

Wooyoung is known for his awing ability to bewitch others. Akin to a snake whisper of legend, Wooyoung can convince anyone of anything - he could lead beasts to the grave with a simple smile and coax others into revealing their weaknesses at a single word from his lips. Most aren't quite sure if it’s a power of his or some kind of natural charm.

His wings are some of the most opulent among demonkind. With a tremendous wingspan, one that rivals even the King, Wooyoung’s two sets of wings are a sight to behold. Blessed with two sets of ebony-feathered wings, Wooyoung’s status as a ‘prince’ is made clear. Both wings are coated in dark feathers. Because of this, once a year, he undergoes a sort of shedding season - a molt. During this time, old feathers are preened away and new feathers begin to take their place. These new feathers can be uncomfortable as they grow in, so Wooyoung has been known to be a little pricklier during this time. The itch and ache are constant, and it can be difficult to reach some of the feathers on his own. However, as the seasons continue, Wooyoung has grown used to his molting season with the help of his mates.

Wooyoung is one of the only demon rulers who does not have a tail - the High King being the only other. Not all demons are born with them, and some assume he does not have one due to the second set of massive wings at his back.

The horns of the lord of gluttony are ebony colored, as most demon’s are. They curve upwards in a single bend, and curl backwards around his head in the shape of half moons. His circlet manifests daintily between them in a glimpse of shimmering gold, gemstones gracing the band of ornate, twisting branches. His horns blend into a head of dark hair, the top half colored a deep black while the bottom layer fades into a bright blonde. The two-toned hair is often seen pulled into a half-up style, with a few strands loose and framing his face.

Song Mingi, the next of the demon lords, was assigned the ring just above Wooyoung: lust. Despite being older, many will joke that Wooyoung and Mingi have switched the sins they preside over. Mingi, like his mate, will never say what sin he was born into.

Mingi can often be seen beside Jongho, as he commands the aerial fleet on Jongho’s army. The position of General had been offered to Mingi, but he had turned it down in favor of remaining a soldier. He takes control of much of the training of new soldiers, and commands the section of airborne soldiers during times of war. Mingi’s claws are well-suited for combat, as the razor sharp talons are laced with the same venom in Jongho’s tail. In addition, Mingi’s senses are acutely tuned due to his life in war, and he can sense a mutiny far before a rebellion begins to stir. His clairvoyant abilities certainly aid such senses as well.

The wings that sprout from Mingi’s back are composed of the same sort of bat-like membrane of some of his mates. However, the brown membrane only makes up the inner portion of his wings. At the tips of his wings, by the ends of the bony fingers, the membrane disappears and scales take their place. In comparison to Yeosang, these scales are translucent and glimmer in the sunlight - like a dragonfly. When caught in rays of light, they cast rainbow glares, illuminating the room like a sun catcher. Though they appear fragile, the glassy scales are remarkably sharp, and can cut through skin easily.

The ruler of the ring of lust has a tail that matches his wings. With a long brown base, the prehensile appendage is tipped with a diamond shape of translucent scales. Like his wings, these scales are razor sharp and have no difficulty being used in battle.

Unlike some of the simpler horns of demonkind, Mingi’s horns are shaped like those of a ram. They twist with a spiral shape once, leaving the pointed tips facing backwards. Because of their shape, they can be difficult to maintain, but his mates aid in these processes. The ebony color of his horns stands out from the silver glint of his hair. The light brownish color is mostly silver looking in the light, and it’s long enough to rest against the back of his neck.

Choi San, though some believe was born into lust, is the ruler of the fourth of the seven rings: wrath. His sweet, joyful demeanor may not paint the picture of anger, but San is exceptional at guarding his wrath and maintaining his temper. Although, it is never a good idea to anger the lord of this sin - fate may not be able to protect you from his rage, especially if you threaten his mates.

San was born with a power that is not often seen among supernatural species. With an uncanny ability to control shadows, San can both understand and speak to the slippery manifestations. His shadows are sentient creatures, and San treats them softly despite their otherwise suspicious occupation. As they are naturally occurring, San uses his shadows as spies – allowing them to collect intel for him, which they will whisper back into his ears. His shadows can only be heard by some, but their presence is unmistakable. San controls them well, however, so unless he calls for them, they often remain hidden. Although, some lower demons have said they have seen wisps of shadow clinging to the other demon lords, clinging to their skin and shifting around their limbs like a second skin. Perhaps, they adore his mates as much as San does.

With smooth, bat-like wings, San’s lithe form is built for speed - it makes him the fastest of the demon rulers. The dark membrane is sleek, the obsidian color only interrupted by the alabaster white of the boney frame of his wings. When spread wide, his wing span is impressive, spanning more than twice the length of his arms.

The shadow-singer has a tail that resembles some of the pictures of demonic myth. With a thin, dark base and a tip pointed like an arrowhead, the tail is nearly exactly what some had predicted them to look like. However, they likely did not predict how akin to the weapon the tip would be – his tail is as pointed as an actual arrowhead and it has been used as a weapon in the past.

San’s horns curl around his head, sprouting from his temples and twisting to the back of his head where the point faces behind him. They bend slightly twice, faintly resembling the body of a snake. They blend into the black color of his hair, only standing out against some of the blond streaks of the bottom half. His hair is similar to Wooyoung’s, though shorter than that of his mate.

The next of the kingdom's rulers is Kang Yeosang, the leader of the third ring: envy. As the fourth eldest, this sin was delegated to his rule. No one knows if it is his true sin, as Yeosang is very good at concealing his secrets.

Yeosang, like his king, was born with the ability to heal. His powers manifested young, and they continued to grow as he reached maturity. Though they cannot revive the dead, there are few wounds that Yeosang cannot heal. Those that are beyond his strength to heal are usually those who have been wounded by an angel - their blades are filled with a celestial purity Yeosang cannot counteract.

Much of Yeosang’s demon form resembles a dragon - including his massive wings. The scales of his impressive wings appear a deep obsidian black to the plain eye. However, under the rays of the sun, the scales shift in color - like mica. Rippling magnificently in hues of royal purple and forest green - hints of an iridescent blue catching the light when he shifts - the silky scales reveal a metallic sheen in the light. Since Yeosang’s demon characteristics are so dragon-like, the talons of his wings are slightly larger than some of his mates. The sharp, curled points are daunting when the shadow of his wingspan descends on his prey.

His thick, dragon-like tail is coated in scales of the same caliber - a truly mesmerizing sight when Yeosang soaks up the few hours of mid-morning sun. Letting his scales shimmer and reflect beams of light, the healer muffles his laugh when he catches sight of his mates fawning over his beauty.

Yeosang’s horns are slightly different from the other demon lords; while they emerge from his temples and curve up and over his head towards the back, there is a smaller second set of horns slightly beneath the first. The second set of inky horns are the same shape as the first, just a fraction smaller. Slightly less than half of the size of his main horns, the second set curls in the same fashion over his head, the tips pointed slightly upward. Yeosang’s honey blonde hair does not conceal the root of his horns, allowing a little glimpse of the scales around his temples. Little iridescent scales scatter the base of his horns, as well as the base of his wings and tail as well. Due to his dragon-like appearance, these scales do shed once a season - a sensation that can cause itching and discomfort for the demon. However, the lord of envy claims his shedding season does not compare to that of his mate’s.

Jeong Yunho, third eldest of the demon rulers, presides over the second ring: greed. The tallest of his mates, Yunho’s energetic and joyful demeanor disappears when in command of his court. Lower demons often find themselves cowering under his intimidating stature, the stoic expression on his face a drastic change from the one he wears inside the castle.

One of Yunho’s strongest abilities emerges in the form of emotions. Aside from the soulbond between his mates, Yunho has an uncanny ability for sensing and changing feelings. As he honed the ability, he quickly discovered how to manipulate the strings of a person's emotions. Soon after, he grew adept at his skill, and found a place at Hongjoong’s side in the palace – being able to meddle with the emotions of those not so easily convinced is a marvelous ability, is it not?

Yunho’s demon form appears a fraction of a color lighter than some of his mates. Rather than the dark colors of other forms, Yunho’s demon form is coated in shades of gold and ochre. His wings are composed of the same bat-like membrane of San’s, however, unlike his partner, Yunho also has a second set of wings. Though they are much smaller than the first, two shorter wings, like the hind-wings of a butterfly, emerge from beneath the fore-wings. Both are a dark shade of ochre, each set is remarkably deadly. The bone fingers that form the structure of his wings extend beyond the membrane of his wings, sharpening to a knife-like point and making his wings a dangerous asset. Each section of golden bone looks like a dagger, and when he fully expands his daunting wings, Yunho looks frighteningly beautiful. Yunho’s wings are not often seen as they are deadly to the touch, and he fears harming those he cares about.

The tail extending from the base of Yunho’s spine is also a golden ochre color, and it resembles his wings as well. The thin tail has dagger-like spines along its length. Each one looks like the bony claws that his wings possess, and they protrude about an inch from his tail in a vaguely triangular shape.

Yunho’s horns, also the inky black that his mates possess, curl forward from his temples instead of back. They push forward an inch before twisting upwards to point towards the sky, meeting above the center of his forehead and leaving just an inch of space in between. They too, blend in with his dark hair, and the base of his horns is hidden beneath the mess of black hair.

Park Seonghwa is the eldest of the demon rulers. As such, he maintains control of the highest of the seven rings: pride. Seonghwa is one of the few rulers to reveal that his true sin matches the ring he rules.

The eldest of the kingdom’s lords is a bit of an enigma when it comes to his powers. Very few have seen the extent of his abilities, and those who have are only privy to short glimpses and small tricks. While frustratingly complex, Seonghwa’s powers involve time. Able to see and alter different strings of reality, Seonghwa can glimpse into timelines. With ease, he can open and close gateways to another timeline, as well as take glances into the events of such timelines. However, due to the strength of this power and the dire consequences that could result from a mistake, Seonghwa does not use them often. Only at the request of his king, or at his own personal haste, does Seonghwa divulge in the mystery of his power. Though, even without using them, the eldest has an uncanny clairvoyance for matters of importance.

Seonghwa’s wings are fairly similar to Wooyoung’s, with ebony feathers coating the appendages. He, however, only has one set of wings rather than two. Additionally, Seonghwa has the bone-like claw at the tip of his wings that some of his mates have - a feature Wooyoung does not. Both he and his feathered mate undergo a molting season as new feathers replace the old. Wooyoung and Seonghwa typically spend much of this time together, as they understand the exact care the other needs during this time.

The eldest has a long, charcoal colored tail that spits at the tip, forming two separate prehensile tails. Each of these tails can move on its own, giving him the appearance of having two rather than one. The skin is almost scale-like, but does not have the same texture that Yeosang does.

Seonghwa’s horns extend from a little closer to his forehead, rather than his temple. They are thin, but strong, curling around his head like a crown of antlers. Sort of deer-like in appearance, the horns split into branches and end at the back of his head. Though his hair is an inky black, the base of his horns can sometimes be seen due to the undercut along the side of his head.

Kim Hongjoong, better known as the High King of Hell, rules over the entirety of the Kingdom of Dawn. Every demon in the realm knows better than to challenge the king. Blessed with incredible power and guarded by seven of the realm’s strongest, he is a demon to be feared. Most demons steer clear of the king, intimidated by his power and his status, but those who work closely with him know that he is not an unjust ruler. Hongjoong, despite how intimidating he appears, is a well-liked king. He is fair and dependable as a ruler, and does not treat his realm poorly. Though his rule is unquestionable, he always treats each subject with the same importance as the last - each opinion matters equally when it comes to decision making. However, Hongjoong is still a demon - one of the most powerful of his kind; so should his rule ever come into question, you will be reminded why he is High King.

As a demon of great power, Hongjoong has a plethora of abilities and an extensive knowledge of magic. He can cast spells and brew potions among other tricks, but one of his strongest powers is one that is not commonly seen: Hongjoong is able to delve into people’s minds. He can communicate via the mind, as well as view and alter a person’s thoughts and memories. It’s an extremely useful ability - but a very dangerous one too. Additionally, with enough practice and the right mentor, your mind can be guarded from prying eyes. However, it takes exceptional strength to hide your thoughts from a demon like Hongjoong. Most commonly, this ability of the king is used to establish a connection between the mind’s of his mates. This allows them to speak to each other without a regard for the distance that may separate them.

The High King’s demon form is regal. With blood-red wings adorned with golden embellishments decorating the bone structure, Hongjoong is kingly. His wingspan is the largest of his mates, and the large shadow of his frame is daunting. The appendages are a similar bat-like membrane as many other demons.

Hongjoong does not have a tail in his demon form. However, he does have a venom running through his veins - manifesting the strongest in his fangs. Hongjoong’s bite has the capability of forcing neurotoxin into his prey. The king controls the venom as he pleases, so not every bite is laced with toxin.

The king's horns are very similar to those of his eldest lover, Seonghwa. Both demons have antler-like horns, though Hongjoong’s appear slightly less delicate. They are a fraction firmer, with less branches that are a little thicker than his mate’s. Hongjoong’s horns also curl around his head, ending facing behind him in a secondary crown - the golden circlet between his horns being the first. Hongjoong’s horns are also decorated in the golden jewelry that embellish his wings. They disappear into a mess of brown hair that is long enough to rest against the base of his neck.

So, my dear, with the knowledge of the Kingdom of Dawn now revealed and your fate in the hands of eight demon lords, answer me this:

Are you ready to meet the crown rulers of Hell?

the first installment of the Kingdom of Dawn: dewdrops at dawn – poly!ot8 ateez x fem!reader [demon au]

Pick another door.

a/n: I think I said the word ‘demon’ at least a hundred times in this :0 I felt like I was writing a research paper when I wrote this lol! it was a little strange, but I really wanted to expand on some of the lore in this universe!!

did anyone catch who san’s abilities were inspired by? he’s like the only character from the book I liked lol xD

#petrichor #kingdom of dawn #ateez x reader #demon au #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #san x reader #yeosang x reader #jongho x reader #ateez au #demon ateez #poly!ateez x reader #poly ateez

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helloescapist · 10 months

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Let's Go | Akaza + Headcanons

The Request: “I have a request, could u possibly do a Hashira Akaza x demon reader, like when he finds her scared, he takes her in? Plus reader has a bamboo muzzle like Nezuko”

I hope you see this, and it meets your expectations <3

Word Count: 3222

Setting: Akaza x fem!demon!reader

Content Warnings: mentions of gore/violence, horror, abuse, cult behaviors, rituals, bound reader, some themes may be triggering for some readers.

Summary: the lure of perfume, the temptations of a blood art that drew him to this damned place, and the circumstances behind the art had not been what he had expected, nor the responsibility that would follow.

A/N: It's giving-- the cat he didn't want, but cannot abandon either.

Aged stones crumbled beneath his feet, cracked with every step he took. The touch of wet stone beneath his callous feet, the indigo dipped toes that pressed against each step, wandered from soaked bolder to moss swept stones. Vines that had long since claimed the path and dug out the history of the mountain.

Moss, and the skitter of inferior lifeforms that danced across the ground to flee his steps. Puffs of clouds painted in hues of slate gray, and the shadows of the nights crept amongst the hills. Rolled over the edges and whispered the depths of unheard secrets. Faint figures evading his sight, drew from shapes unknown. Structures unfamiliar, faint as the ghost that wandered amongst abandoned buildings. Robbed of life and offering only glimpses of the life that had once been through the shambles of ruins. The stillness of the night lingered amongst his skin, the touch of mist that struggled amongst the loss, the empty void of purpose. Structures, abandoned baskets, and rice ponds overrun by evasive vines. Stagnant air that threatened to suffocate his lugs, crush the coos of his senses, the touch of gold kissed citrine eyes that scanned his surroundings all too aware of the distinct pull upon his senses. The nagging way he could not draw himself away, tugged closer and closer each attempt that he dared to deny its siren’s song. The warmed amber notes of vanilla that warmed his soulless body, whispered embraces despite the blood that puddled at his feet, soaked into the earth and drenched the crops around him. Devoid of the sharp metallic scent that often accompanied the evidence, replaced by something sweet, and tempting. With only the wanning moon to guide his path, the grit of his teeth drew Akaza’s fist closed and clamped over the skull of his opponent. Each step matching the growl that blossomed at the base of his throat, the snarl that greeted the night air as he advanced towards a trembling monk. Wretched in blood, soiled in his own vomit upon witnessing the decapitation of his own friend, unworthy of brandishing the title of Sohei. Rattled his teeth that met the chatter of his jaw, the widening of his pupils horrified and spewing verses that meant little to the Upper Moon. His cowardice muddled over the pad of bare feet against stone and pebbles, his footing guided by his own revolt. The beads at his ankle were a mere mirror of the prayer beads clasped between the fingers of the Third Moon’s next target. The fold of the man’s pitiful body, mulled over on bent knees uttering bullshit of mercy, the weapon at his side abandoned lacking the bravery required to yield it, let alone flee.

The etched emblem baring his ranking danced across his cornea, Akaza’s eyes caught on the damning markings of the would-be warrior smeared in horrendous vows. Blood draw from the outer corner of the pretend devotee cut across his cheeks, trailed down his jawline, marred by the tears of his sniveling whimpers that elicited no sense of empathy from the demon, rather the insisting bemoaning only excited his wrath. All too aware of the bubbling at the pit of his stomach, and the gnaw of his lower lip unamused of his would-be opponents. The path behind him littered with bodies of the lesser creature’s comrades that neither thrilled, nor animated his senses, each baring the telling depictions of gore upon their faces. Movements that fell into dances, prayers that felt incomprehensible to the Upper Moon despite his familiarity with Buddhism. A warped religion, strayed from its original purpose, sacrificed amongst the denied followers, and accumulated from the blood of unsuspecting travelers. The voyage had betrayed the foul practices of the temples, morbid displays of carcasses strung amongst the trees, dripping blood to the soil, and hummed of talismans that bore no translated significance. Each step led Akaza up the mountains, the gravitational pool leaving him heedless, and defiant. Unable to escape the invisible threads that guided him up the abandoned steps, coated amongst the mist. A macabre game of hide and seek born of an invisible scent that beckoned his attendance, and the pests that dared to stand in his way, unable to even offer him a bit of entertainment. An annoyance at best, he had met with little restraint, the scent warmed his senses, cooed sweet nothings that Akaza could not describe. The break of spring nights warmed against his skin with only the moonlight to immolate the markings depicted across his skin, the glint in which his eyes caught the fading moonlight, clung to the grotesque symbolism depicted in corroded rust at the flesh of his cheeks. “I will not repeat myself. Where. Is. It.”

The depths of his voice revealed the severity that lurked beneath his surface. The amusement devoid, robbed of all satisfaction. Lack luster scuffles that could not pacify him, and the distinct fragrance of vanilla and peaches that robbed him of the distinct metallic scent of iron, and the rush of blood upon his fingertips had muddled his satisfaction. Drew his ire, a blood art had drawn him to this damned land, forgotten by buddha, and abandoned by the kami, drenched in the blood of victims, and worships of a false god. Its blood painted across worshiper’s face, masks delineate of religion. A numerous pulls of deviants dressed in monk clothes that had captivated the mountains, infested the surrounding area as termites harvest upon a fallen tree, etching away at the core of its being until there is nothing left but a carcass. Their mere presence, painted figures that loomed amongst the foliage, dripping in the blood art’s scent drawing him up this forsaken path. Lulled, and whispered begging, the horrified mumble of trembling bottom lips as the man before him trembled and wreathed. As though his tongue had suddenly been cut from his mouth, the erratic shaking of his eyelashes clenched at the tears that began to form, the pop of knuckles, guided forward in a single gesture. A path carved from foliage, broken through weeds, and trembled branches, snapped at the weight, and drawn upon the depths of the inner sanctum of the shrines. “T-There.” Quivered beneath the Upper Moon’s etched eyes, death that followed the sound of dripping as blood puddled from his superior’s severed head puddled beneath the demon’s feet. Painfully aware of the agonizing leap of his heart as the creature loomed forward. Akaza’s somber expression traced amongst the symbolism, the left-over residue of fingerprints utilized to mark the man’s skin.

“Very well,” dry as the night air, crackled upon the silence of the man’s shivering. The tips of blueberry flesh, fingers that captivated the faithless monk’s scalp, gathered at the remainder of hairs that had begun to grow as he followed his deceitful path, te force of a thousand men bend in a moment’s notice. The sickening crack of bones, splintered fragments torn from flesh. Asunder, wrecked from the axis, just above the transverse process at the neckline. Snapped, child’s play between his fingers, the rattle of the mandible finally seizing its insufferable chattering of misplaced winter, fear forever captured upon the victim’s face, and the wrinkles that creased upon Akaza’s brow as he discarded both craniums with little remorse, nor a second thought. Useless, and lacking any fighting spirit, an unworthy snack for one of his standards. Tossed over his shoulders as his feet guided him to the inter sanctum. Each step drawn upon his own annoyance, the familiarity in which he had been toyed with, drawn to this location unsavory. Far too similar to the antics of the Second Moon, and as the revulsion began to seep into his stomach, the scent had begun to flourish into heavy notes. Suffocating tones of peach. Earthen leaves left to the wind, unwashed vanilla. Breath drawn into his lungs, seared upon his senses. Robbed him of thoughts, claimed his waking conscious. Drew out quiet memories, something sweet, and tender, yet dared to rob him of his senses. Threatened to consume him, to rob the oxygen from his longs, to clasp its nails into the taunt skin of his neck, digging into the flesh until there would be nothing more, not even a single breath, and the distinct cry of a woman.

Help me, please.

It had not been what he expected, the blood art had surpassed his expectations, but the details had been blurred. The enticing waves of ambered vanilla touched on the desires of comfort, and security. Tender notes of peaches, sweet and alluring. Temptations that could lure any man within the radius of its reach, tempt women to wander in the dead of night at the scent of spilt blood. Tossed caution to the wind and abandon sense with heedless doubts drawn to the sweet allure of cushioned promises wrapped in sweet sentiments. Such a deceptive blood art had led Akaza to believe that the source would be nothing more than a Cretan that roamed the depths of scum along side Doma. Delighted in folly that followed the devastation of others around them, danced to a tune unheard by others as victims threw themselves at their feet. Enamored with suffering, and savoring the flesh of innocent who were heedless to the dangers they had roamed in under the guise of religious calling—unsuspecting and little mor than sheep to the slaughter. The depiction of a throne built on the bodies of worshippers, snacking on the pearls of agony. A sloth of pleasures, and unbothered by the ways of the world, nor having any shred of dignity. No, this had not been what Akaza had expected in the slightest.

The would-be worshippers had taken a turn, embedded in chants and prayers that fell on the screams of the bound. Bowing repeatedly between fallen words, uttered in hums and the rubbing of palms. Heads bowed low to the ground with each dip of their spines. Desecrated holy robes, staunch with fresh blood, and the grotesque markings upon their cheeks. Stale eyes that neither followed the trace of the Upper Moon’s steps, unphased by his presence, sacrificed to the falling of words at the bow of their backs. Entranced with a ritual that churned his stomach and raised his eyebrow. A display worthy of the Second Moon was depicted before him, reeking of perfume and blood. Drawn out upon a fallen altar, chains coiled and wreathing in each movement. Blood staunched, spilt across aged stone. Cracks that had surmised into the boulders it had been built upon. Bodies littered to the side, varying in ages and sizes. Finest silks shredded and stripped of jewels, to the thin of bones of travelers robbed of their coin purses, left over straw hats and baskets of farmers and gathers among the mix evidence of their wares taken from corpses, the sacrificed of wanders lured by silken scents. The faint of painter, coated in blood and distinguished markings of some perverted holy talismans bound and coiled amongst the chains that withered and wreathed. Forced upon the strips of bamboo, the very altar of holy worship encased in a pit of sharpen black bamboo, with only one path to fall upon its worshipers. A monk at the center of the altar, his arms raised above his bald head, and the draping of the finest silk kimonos wrapped across his body revealing the depths of his deception. Prayer beads crafted of the precious stones caught amongst the lanterns, sparkled in each of his movements at the dagger glinted not the flame. The blade fell upon spilt blood, and the scream that followed the blooming scent of peaches and vanilla. Fresh as the blood that tarnished the ground beneath your knees. Cries of agony muffled by the bamboo forced between your lips, and the tears caught upon your hair. Lavish robes, hung upon your bones, an embellished deity, little more than a puppet of religious plight. The dip of his fingers drawing Akaza’s immediate ire, his body betraying his sense. His movements one of a possessed man, the callous of his hands the paint of indigo at his finger tips at the pull of hair in one fluid movement. Ripped the skull from the priest’s body, the tumble of its bones rolled from the altar. Popped upon the rocks with each fallen chant of worshipers, unresponsive to the gore before them. The quiver of your eyes captivating his senses, bathed in the scents of the night, faintly aware of the acts to follow.

Only brought back to the state of mind upon the bodies that had fallen to his feet, the quiver of your body, and the lavish scent that had been snubbed from the night, the cut upon your cheeks healed as such shallow wounds prevent little implication for any of your kind. The small jerk of your body, recoiled from his touch met at the unsure clench of his teeth. The depths of a conscious he could not connect with, reminding Akaza of his unfamiliarity and uncertainty of interacting with a woman. The clip of his brow revealing the small annoyance, small slips of a memory that he could not grasp, nor the melancholy it burrowed into his soul before crushing the chains that bound you between your feet. The fold of feline ears pinned to the base of your skull, tucked backwards and skittish with each of his movements. The tuck of a tail, no perhaps two burrowed into your kimono, as your eyes traced him warily, the small touch of a canine mirrored as you regarded him. The pulls of citrine gleamed, ambered honey shyer than he would ever admit meeting your own gaze. The shiver of your body and pull of your muscles. Frail and tender, far too much time spent as a false deity, tortured, and inappropriately cared for. The Upper Moon’s small quip of his brow, and tug of his lips. Eyes that fell upon the bodies of the slain, faintly aware of the blood bath he had elicited, nor the way it clung to his clothes. Pondered if feeding you such spoiled products would be enough to give you the energy to flee from his sights, fully aware of the wary state in which you regarded him. He didn’t blame you. Something small, something that touched upon his memories, shy eyes that looked away from him… Women were like this, were they not? His lamenting drawing him to the conclusion, that what little strength that remained in your bones would be enough to seize you from this place, if only given the time, or resources which he had… well provided unintentionally. The spoils of such disgusting creatures at his feet nothing to appease his appetite, nor tempt his own hunger. Perhaps, you only needed the time… to regain yourself.

Such horrors… Ah, I scared her.

The pad of his feet, drawn upon the steps, falling in line wordlessly. Not so much as a parting word, fearful of the fragile state of your body, pondered upon if such parting of his words would shatter you. You had already been through… Ah, no he didn’t wish to think of it, nor consider the implications his own actions had had upon you. The beads of his ankles trembled with each step, and the grit of his fingers as the folded into fist. Uneasy as the moonlight that caught upon his raspberry-kissed hair. Knotted his stomach and made his skin crawl…. It had been so many years since he had felt this way, the melancholy of a life he could not remember ebbing at his conscious and drawing one step after another, unable to find the will to run from this place. Morning would come soon, the touch of coils, the shuffle of fabric across the ground. Caught at stones, and trembled with unbalanced steps. Life devoid upon your bones, malnourished and struggling to bear the weight of the lavish kimono. Embellishments, and the peek of kitten ear posed forward, no longer bound to your locks as your eyes traced him curiously. The peek of you behind his shoulder quick to dismiss as the mere need of escaping this area before any utilized your blood art for personal wealth once more. Yet, as he descended the mountain shrine steps he became faintly aware of the phantom tracing his every movement. A delicate dance of small steps that mirrored his own, and the silhouette that ducked behind trees and boulders when he would dare to peek over his shoulder. Akaza’s own confusion, whispering reassurance that it was merely coincidence that you had opted to follow this very path. The occasional snap of a twig, and attempt to catch you peered over, still as the moonlight. Perhaps attempting to remain out of his sight with the stillness of your breath before slipping between the trees. Oblivious to the peek of your tails flickered amongst the branches. Akaza far too aware of the feline eyes that traced his movements, uncertain of what game you were playing, or if perhaps it was all circumstantial--- women were not prone to following him around after all, and he certainly did not invite such interactions.

The final steps before the stones washed away from the path, corroded into abandoned forests, and the village he had wandered amongst, the reclamation of foliage, and the forest captivated upon the frays of abandoned houses, the small rustle of leaves, and yowl in the base of your throat, remained muffled by the bamboo placed between your canines. Your clear agitation, and duress providing him with the ample courage to finally turn back to regard you. The slip of your kimono, entwined upon the branches and revealing the touch of thighs that ignited the highs of his cheeks. The annoyed huff of air as his eyebrows drew together, met under the curses of his breath and bitter confusion. Turned his back, and dared a step forward, before letting out his own growl before turning back to you. His steps thundered across the stone and drawing the blades of your shoulders up, and arched. More catlike than predator as his fingers drew the slip from the branches, untangled the furrowed cloth and met your eyes with frustration. “You can go,” he instructed, releasing you from the foliage. Content with this being the last of your interactions, except for the draw of your ears. Once again, pinned to your hair, the lavish state of your apparel ridiculous to the environment, and any hopes of voyage. The bend of his knees bearing his weight, and the intentional scowl of a display before relinquishing his back before your eyes. The usher of his fingers at his back, ushering your weight onto his back. Neither of you would make it very fair in such wear, and with daylight approaching, he did not have the time for this. The haughty huff of his breath that drew at the heat of his cheeks, and the small touch of a growl as he uttered, “Let’s go.”

Taking You In Headcanons | Akaza

He doesn't want to do this.

He REALLY doesn't want to do this.

Akaza has a natural aversion to women-- and if you do not know his background, there's a very valid reason as to why he's not one for harming, nor seeking out a woman's company.

However, for the very same reasons, I just can't see Akaza outright abandoning you either, but let's be clear, he really doesn't want to do this.

I really feel like you become that cat that he does not initially want, and does everything he can to send you away. He considered biwa woman to take you in.

Accepted that for whatever reason (his conscious) that he could not just leave you to her, and accepted that... it's only a matter of time before that bastard Second hears of this.

Caretaking, is not what he has spent his life focusing on, and in some ways, it could hinder his actions. He'll debate back and forth of leaving you to your own devices-- and as time goes on, and the Upper Moon Three is confident you can take care of yourself, he's going to.

I mean, he'll check in, but for the most part, he will take advantage of your new found independence to seek out scuffles.

Akaza cannot sit still, and he will NOT take you with him. If you choose to remain by his side, you will have to accept that there will be long periods in which he travels, and you will remain behind. What you do in the mean time is of little concern, as long as you remain faithful and honest. Any attempts of insincerity, or manipulation will sever all bonds.

Remember, clingy is by no means attractive to him.

Until that time comes, I think Akaza would begrudgingly under take the tasks of taking care of you, and nurturing you back to your full potential.

In fact, I think physical needs come fairly natural to him, and may even be a pain if you're seeking out a physical relationship because he will not be openly engaging in emotional wellbeing.

No really, such open vulnerability will take him quite some time to approach, and it will be done out of a bit of spite. He'll do it, but he's going to complain.

Taking care of you was not a decision, or a commitment he took likely, and Akaza does not make rash decisions. While he may be quick to seem engaged, and curious, he does not make a commitment without being sure of himself, and his capabilities. Whether it's a long term relationship, or temporarily caring for a wounded cat.

Because of this, you will have to understand he will not be quick to meeting any emotional damage you have sustained in the duration of your capture, nor will he grasp the depths of damage that PTSD can inflict on another person. He can't even face his own trauma

In fact, he can be down right insensitive.

First call to action will be that he will secure suitable clothes for you. One in part because you reek of that damned place, and he cannot cope with that. It's like being stuck with Doma, he's not doing it. There is also the realities that this outfit, is just not realistic. Let's be honest, he's not going to seek out outfits that are revealing, or offering a lot of exposure. In fact, I think he would stick with traditional, and modest clothing, but with the ability for you to work, and move across the terrain.

He doesn't like the idea of you fighting, and will do everything he can to avoid placing you in such circumstances, but he is well aware that, you need to be able to defend yourself. The world is cruel to women. He will keep this in mind in securing your clothes.

He'll seek out the opportunity to sponge out all of this perfume. yes, he understands that it is your blood art, but you reek, and because of this, I can expect he will drop you off at a waterfall/pond fairly routinely to keep the reminiscent of your blood art to more maintainable quantities.

Not to mention he's worried about you luring something big in while he's away.

in preparing you for your routine scrubbing, I imagine the moment will come that he will attempt to remove the bamboo muzzle. If you do want it to be removed, he will happily do so. Likely uttering a number of curses to the perverts who have done this to you.

But if like Nezuko, you have opted to remain this way, he will say nothing other than inquire about how you intend to eat. It's just not practical. This however, will be the end of this discussion. He has no desires to force you into anything, nor will he even attempt to dispute your choices.

No really, think about it. He asked Rengoku for CONSENT to become a demon. I just cannot imagine Akaza forcing anything on anyone.

Rather, I imagine that every little thing will need consent.

Consent to touch you.

Consent to help brush out your hair.

Consent to enter the room when you've finished changing.

Everything.

Realistically, his next step will be to feed you, and it's one that he takes high importance on. if you have selected a proper diet for a demon, he will be particularly choosy about what he feeds you. He's not feeding you women or children, don't get your hopes up, but I can imagine him selecting worthy food. A nice husband, perhaps a kabuki artist that has just began to take the stage. Nothing dirty, or tainted.

However, in the event that you have opted for a demon-vegan life style, I can foresee him struggling. Nothing crude or agitated, but genuinely concern that is appearing as anger. He's not going to press the issue-- but are you getting enough sleep to meet your needs?

Akaza is by nature not the sort to have plush bedding, nor anything really fussy. He's always on the go, that I imagine that more often than not he opts to rough it, but if you have selected your substance to remain from dozing, I imagine that he would go to great lengths to figure out what you would need to receive optimum beauty sleep.

If you get past his prickly ill-ease with women, you'll find that he's actually a snuggler and not one to argue with you crawling into bed with him. I dare say, he secretly enjoys it.

Akaza is upfront, and honest with all of his intentions, and because of this, he told you upon taking you in what his expectations were. for you to one day, care for yourself.

He is natural at reading people, and because of this all of your physical needs will be met with little hesitation. In fact, more often than not you will find yourself wowed by some of his gestures. such as the way he brought a hair tie charm in your favorite color despite never being told it was so.

As I've said, he's not one for emotional conversation, and things that dip far too deep into his surface will likely leave him bruised and prickly. In part because, he doesn't want to recall his life as a human, and even more so, Akaza is aware that he is one of the few unable to recall.

Is it a sore topic for him?

Yes.

But he doesn't know why, and that is enough to ensure he doesn't want to dig deeper into it, and he doesn't want you to either. To the same extent, he will assume you have no desire to dig deeper into your own needs. Akaza is also not certain he can meet them. Nightmares in the middle of the night of your captivity.

Will not be met with talks and comfort. Rather, they'll be met with uncertainty before he just folds his arms over you, and beckons you to bed. Hoping that the press of his body is more than enough to reassure you that those days are long gone.

Really, these slips of insecurity, of raw emotion leaves him anxious and uneasy. It's out of his element, and nothing that he feels secure in exploring. In fact, he's probably a terrible listener because he is imagining any scenario that will get him. out. of. here.

More so, Akaza will naturally be more protective of you than he will ever admit, or hint to. Really, aside from the Upper Moons and the Master, none will be aware of the depths of his safeguarding he has over you.

So much so that you will delight in how attentive he can truly be.

#demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #🍡tsuyospeaks #akaza x reader #upper moons x reader

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golvio · 1 year

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I finished the Lotus-Shaped Sky Island sidequest last night.

So, a few interesting things:

Ganondorf himself is never mentioned, but he was apparently taking his creepy Zelda clone on test drives in the palace in the indeterminate time period leading up to the assassination.

The Chamberlain describes the apparition as “like something dead,” and Wortsworth translates that as “corpse-like.”

This makes me curious as to what “Shadow” actually is in the realm of TotK and how it’s different from Shadow in OOT. Gloom is energy associated with “the dead,” but it’s also associated with vitality in certain types of living things. Is “undeath” a sort of flipside of vitality?

Also, what is the Phantom here? An “artificial” ghost of its creator that thinks and acts like him? A soulless puppet-body made of Gloom that Ganon controls remotely?

Monster resurrection, or at least the possibility of resurrection, existed well before Ganondorf’s ascension. Rauru and Sonia explicitly created the Shrines of Light and the Lightroots to “seal them away” and prevent their resurrection, which I interpreted as meaning they’d naturally refresh their numbers through spontaneous resurrection no matter how many times they were killed. Baby’s First Blood Moon in the tear memories was the first time someone invoked this process on purpose since the current kingdom’s founding, but it’s not clear if it was specifically tied to Blood Moons before Ganon made it so, or if Blood Moons even existed before Sonia and Rauru built the shrines.

I sorta lost my mind over the information about monster resurrection because I was just sitting there imagining how monsterkind felt about the guy who finally gave them flesh again after years of wandering as aimless spirits unable to return to physical form. Like, everyone assumes he rose to power because he’s this big brutish warlord who proved himself to be The Strongest, when actually he made himself absolutely indispensable to the collective team comp the Rose Quartz way, so the monsters see him like this:

youtube

Are monsters spontaneously generated from Shadow? Like, in its natural unbound state, Shadow coalesces to form monster bodies or resurrects dead monsters?

This also makes the shrines needing to have a root extending into the Depths to “dispel the darkness” very interesting. It seems to suggest the Depths was the primordial birthplace of monsterkind, that they “came from the earth” and their souls are connected to the land. They may have even been one of Hyrule’s original inhabitants, existing alongside humans until the latter started expanding and encroaching upon their territories.

It’s also a neat little explanation as to why monsters are everywhere in the Zelda world, even outside of Hyrule. They’re a product of some primordial energy current running beneath the earth, and so they’re everywhere the surface of the earth exists.

#legend of zelda #totk thoughts #totk spoilers #ganondorf #monsters #video

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nottivaghes · 2 months

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FULL NAME: Shen Prower Ingen Ryuki SPECIES: Vampire AGE: 645 35 BIRTHDAY: October 25th GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis-man he & him FACECLAIM: Manny Jacinto OCCUPATION: Pharmaceutical Investor

CHARACTER INSPIRATION: Fenris (Dragon Age II), Damon Salvatore (TVD), Artagan/The Traveller (Critical Role C2), Loki (Marvel), Rumpelstiltskin (OUAT), Villanelle (Killing Eve), King George (Queen Charlotte), Magnus Bane (The Mortal Instruments), William Pratt/Spike (BTVS)

Shen makes you think of… blood pooling in the valley of your collarbone, the tang of ozone before a lightning strike, righteous anger, divine violence, black cashmere caressing your skin, a firm handshake sealing your fate, a calm facade concealing the tempest beneath, the burn of vintage bourbon in your throat, a teasing scrape of fangs against the soft skin of your neck, muttering to yourself by candlelight.

You pray it all away but it continues to grow.

Shen has been alive a long time, too long. Well, Ingen has, Shen has only existed for the last fifteen years or so. Ingen was born during the Ming Dynasty, which makes him a priceless antique, he'll have you know, if any of the surviving pottery is anything to go by.

A ruthlessness and a mind for politics is what the constantly changing political landscape brought for young Ingen, thrust into a world of shifting alliances that swelled and ebbed like the tide. Trade boomed; the entire face of the world shifted permanently by the ingenuity of his people.

And yet, the poor suffered underfoot of those with money, status. Ingen realized quickly that if he climbed the ladder, he'd have to block everything out as the ladder was made of people.

To this day Shen believes that the greatest compliment is an attempt on one's life. Unfortunately for his political rival, Shen had been spending much of his own resources attempting to find a way to not have to worry about assassination attempts, which was deemed mostly a fruitless fancy at the time. Humanity had been chasing the fountain of youth since the dawn of time, this foolish young man would hardly find the antidote for death.

Ingen was an adventurer, journeying across the mountains to speak to tucked-away pockets of those who lived there. After three years, on his final expedition, he found what he was looking for.

They knocked Ingen out and trapped him for a month below ground in the subterranean caves, down a shaft with an impossibly small exit tunnel. The preparation for the ritual took that entire moon cycle but by the time they performed it he was too sensorily deprived to retain any of it. Some chanting, a horrible fleshy sound, a sharp pain, hazy nothing, and then something warm dripped over his lips.

Shen came to alone and has been mostly alone since. He spent the rest of his natural lifespan learning just what he was capable of and what would kill him, he'd given up everything for a chance at ensured power and then forgot completely about his human life. He chased wive's tales across the continent trying to hunt down those who had turned him into the sun-fearing wretch, even though he'd asked.

I want to hold you close, soft breath, beating heart.

Shen has walked as a doctor, a sailor, a teacher, a poet, a philosopher, a shepherd, worked in rice fields, courtrooms, and countless other places. He is fluent in many languages, too many to list. Shen believes that as a soulless parasite leeching off the world for eternity that he needs some sort of key duty to center himself, he sees himself as an archivist or scholar. He preserves information, knowledge, and objects he believes are important in a world that so callously discards everything in his personal collection.

People always responded well to Ingen, his beauty was a tool he wielded like a blade in his human life as well as he does now. It was just skimming the surface at first, the odd word or a flash of an image when his bare skin touched that of another but as the years rolled by it solidified and grew as he pushed the boundaries of what he could do. Shen is a touch telepath, though by now he is sickened by the thought of hearing another being think about going home to have sex, shit or eat so he is almost always entirely covered when in public. Few have ever seen him without gloves, a high collar, always wrapped up.

The years have not always entirely been kind to him, though for someone so old he works hard to maintain his mind. Sometimes this becomes more difficult, when he is under intense duress he can seem quite mad. He realized some three hundred years ago that he'd never wanted to be a vampire but a full-blooded fae.

Missed out on Brant Hacke last time, arrived eight months after the war had concluded by ship after hearing a rumour at a dock. Shen returned to town to see what happens this time around and record an 'unbiased' history, maybe offer some help to certain parties if, and only if, it amuses him.

As I whisper in your ear, "I want to fucking tear you apart."

#𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 — ✧.* 𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓷

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rphelperblog · 2 years

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Aurora Cycle Book Series Rp Meme

feel free to edit or change pronouns for rp purposes

“Who am I to deny gravity? When you shine brighter than any constellation in the sky?”

“Do moons choose the planets they orbit? Do planets choose their stars?”

“I want to be knocked out again.”

“Who wants to be normal when you can be interesting instead?”

“Just because you’re not saying it doesn’t mean you’re not thinking it.”

“The mere sight of her is water in an endless desert.”

“I think I’d like to be unconscious again, please.”

“There is no love in violence”

“The sound of her name is like music.”

“With you at my side, I am unbreakable.”

“His loss is like my loss. It’s a story about losing people who aren’t yet gone.”

“Belive me, handsome, one of me is way more than you can handle.”

“You work your whole life for a Thing, it’s only natural the Thing be important to you”

“You know, you’re lucky I’m such a soulless shrew. Otherwise you might be at risk of quite possibly maybe hurting my feelings.”

“I seem to have left the part of me that cares in my other pants.”

“Is it weird that this girl’s don’t-mess-with-me tone makes me want to tell her she can mess with me any day she wants?”

“Love is a single sun in a heaven full of stars.”

“Show the way. Go the way. That’s what all good leaders do,”

“The future is grimier than I expected. Dirtier than it was meant to be.”

“I am not feeling nothing.”

“Love is a drop in the ocean of what I feel for her. Love is a single sun in a heaven full of stars.”

“We have failed, but I hope they will see how hard we tried.”

“all of this is unfolding as it was supposed to. The only way out is through.”

“Like she is the piece that has been missing all my life.”

“But in battle, everyone bleeds the same.”

“I need to let go of my past, and focus on my present.

I need to abandon who I was, and embrace who I am.

I just need to burn it all away.”

“There is nothing as painful, or as simple, as doing what is right.’ ”

“Tomorrow might be worth a million yesterdays. But a tomorrow without him isn’t worth anything at all.”

“In an instant. Those who truly know us see the whole, never just a part.”

“You are the fire I long to burn inside.”

"Madam Badass really did a number on the boys, huh?”

“She is a dream, alive and warm in my arms.”

I burn with the feel of her, the smell of her, the taste of her.”

“ She is smoke and starlight, she is blood and fire, she is a song in my veins as old as time and deep as the Void.”

“ as I feel her surge against me, the flutter-soft touch of her tongue against mine, she almost destroys me.”

“But … that’s not what humans do.We fight for ideas, sure, but we fight for people too.”

“I figure there’s no harm in making a little light for ourselves, here in the dark.”

“Life is for living. The ones you left behind will be all right, I promise. The ones you leave behind in the future will be all right too, even if you make it all the way to another planet.”

“He asks for nothing, this boy. No favor. No quarter. He lives every moment of his life is pain, but still, he lives it. And he stands, where others would have long ago fallen.”

“No matter what the storybooks say, monsters rarely look the part.”

“To be a leader, you have to set the example. To be a leader, you have to be the kind of person you’d want to follow you.”

“The blade grows dull when it sleeps in its scabbard. Sharp when pressed against the stone.”

“I am wondering what kind of heart beats beneath those ribs of yours.”

“It is difficult. To be the one who ensures.”

“When the pilot’s chair is empty.”

“Our lips meet and our fires collide and in that instant all and everything is utterly right.”

“Tomorrow might be worth a million yesterdays.”

“And her smile is the only heaven I’ve ever know.”

“Even the sound of her name makes my heart swell.”

“There’s nothing as painful, or as simple, as doing what’s right,”

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

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From Hell - An EZ Reyes/Reader One Shot Story.

The spooky smut continues, besties! This time with demon EZ :D This one got away from me a little, too. Warning, it’s smutty as hell. Pun intended.

Words - 3,058

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

The night is quiet, other than the chirping of cicadas and the crunching of the loose stones and gravel upon the quiet, country road beneath your feet, the light from the full moon overhead illuminating your path towards the crossroads ahead. Your purpose tonight begins with arriving there, and will end in you summoning a demon.

You aren’t venturing there to sell your soul in exchange for what the demon can conjure for your gain. No. The purpose of your visit could be seen as a little more dangerous than that, an excursion definitely not for the faint of heart.

The thrill you seek? To have sex with a demon. And there is one whom your fellow witch friends assure you can be summoned for that very purpose. Usually, demons have little interest in pleasures of the flesh, but some still crave it. They are few and far between, so the name of the intended must be spoken, once the container of ritual items has been buried for the correct one to come forth. You have a brief outline of what you’re looking for. Tall, well built, Latino and very, very sexy.

Arriving in the middle of the crossroads, you pick up a small rock from the side of the road, using the sharpened end to dig out a small hole in the centre, taking the little box from your pocket, within it a picture of yourself, a black cat bone and a handful of graveyard dirt. Taking a breath as your heart somersaults, you pause from covering the hole, gulping hard, having a little slither of worry tug at your insides. Suddenly, doubt pools in your tummy.

What if you’re about to make a dreadful mistake?

‘That demon, he made me feel things I didn’t think possible. He might be dark and soulless, but he lit me up like a bonfire.’ Those words, the statement of recommendation from your friend rings through your head, prompting you to take another deep breath, covering the box with the dirt, patting it level and throwing the stone behind you, before speaking his name.

“Ezekiel.”

Straightening up, you begin to slowly pace in a circle, eyes darting around, searching the depths of the shadows for the one whom you have called upon. One tour of the crossroads, and you’re still alone, your heart beginning to escalate with anxiety, until suddenly, a scent drifts under your nose. Sulphur.

“You witches and your continual invoking of me. I’d be annoyed if I didn’t find it flattering.” You turn to face him, to the spot where he appeared... you’d like to say from nowhere, but you know where. From hell. Tall, well built, Latino and very, very sexy. There’s absolutely no mistaking him, though, had you not have been given a description. Demons are the only creatures with completely coal black eyes, as his are. “Well, at least you’re pretty.”

He speaks with complete apathy, but he views you favourably, his eyes taking a tour of you a few times, the corner of his mouth hitching a smirk. You blink, and he’s right before you, your body twitching slightly, unnerved. “Nervous, huh?”

“Well, you are something hell literally spat up,” you begin, lifting your chin. “But I think I’ll feel better when I start taking off your clothes.” You eye him in the same way as he did you, the way his biceps fight against the sleeves of his t shirt making your pulse quicken, those thick, veiny arms sinfully pleasing to your eyes.

“Hmm.” He reaches for you, his fingers beneath your chin tilting your head a little further back, his breath almost burningly hot against your neck as his lips ghost your throat. “Then let’s go.” He looks down at you, a grin curling his lips into a wide smile, the full toothed display reminding you of a shark, Ezekiel clicking his fingers. Within a blink, you’re standing within your bedroom with him, the demon waving his hand, all the candles within lighting of their own accord. You raise a questioning eyebrow.

He shrugs, his fingers pushing beneath the straps of your dress. “I’m all about the ambience. Besides, the flames remind me of home.” You tremble with anticipation as he lowers your dress, the fabric puddling at your ankles, his eyes wandering over you before he clutches your waist, pulling you to him roughly. The heat of him... it’s like he brought a little of the smouldering blazes of hell with him, the demon burying his mouth at your neck with a groan, his hands tearing your underwear off before your mouths meet in kisses of blazing, fervent need.

You paw at his clothes with impatient greed, needing to feel that unnaturally hot skin against yours, stripping him as if you’re unwrapping a gift, wondering to yourself how on earth pure evil can feel this good. He lays you back on the bed, the greed now all his as his hands paw at you, squeezing your breasts, the heat of his body pressing against yours beyond scintillating, his flesh almost burning hot.

You feel the heat growing between your thighs, a slow spread that winds gently, Ezekiel’s mouth closing over your nipple, a wet suck of pure magmatic heat. He is overwhelming, encompassing, the rigidity of his cock firm at your hip, his slight shift sending him to your apex, the ridged length of him dragging through your soaked folds in tease. He’s burning against you, breath stollen from your lungs as you pant, grinding yourself into him, little shocks of pleasure skittering up your spine as you both purl against one another, his mouth back on yours.

Your tongues swirl, your teeth grazing his lip as you feel the head of his cock skating over your clit, a firm push sending it against your entrance, the demon growling, a beastly rumble that causes your cunt to puddle against him as he stretches you, chuckling eerily. “Oh no. You don’t get it yet.” He slips from within the grip of your arms, kissing between your breasts, tongue circling your navel, sprinkling kisses over your hip before he settles at your apex, thumbs spreading the petals of your cunt. “Mmhmm, I definitely want this in my mouth before I fuck it senseless.”

The near boiling drag of his tongue through your folds hitches the breath in your throat, your back arching, Ezekiel’s onyx eyes fixing upon you in an unblinking stare as he laves at you thirstily, sucking, kissing your tender nub, tongue flicking over you, your nails trawling his scalp as he gives you the complete unbridled focus of his mouth.

“Mmmm, you taste sweet, little human.” he growls, arms winding beneath your thighs, gripping them, wrenching them further apart with a sharp tug, treating your aqueous slit to long, firm licks, evoking quivers that shiver you from head to toe. He grants no clemency from the hypnotic beat of his tongue over your bud, tasting your hot, pink folds with swirls and flickers as you gush onto his lips, his short beard wet with your nectar as he sucks a mouthful of your cunt, your nails dragging over his shoulders as you feel the coil within you tightening.

You throb against each lick, each carefully administered swirl of his hungry tongue, your hands gripping his thick shoulders, your hips keening against the utter glory of what his mouth conjures. He draws curses from you as you pant, your body spasming so hard as he begins to suck your bud that you’re unsure if your response is of pulling away or shunting closer, crying out as you’re eaten with ruinous gusto.

He has you beginning to spark against each well-placed lick, his mouth making you tighten, your walls in full clench, only sated by the arrival of his fingers into your slick, raking firmly, a smile playing his lips as he watches you writhe.

“That’s it, you sweet little thing. Come apart on my tongue.” The heat of his mouth has you literally melting for him, the demon panting against your dewy pink folds as he assails your clit with firm circles, driving out pleasure from the very root of you, skittering through you as your hips purl and flex, the waves of your release washing over you ceaselessly, leaving you a panting, shaking wreck.

Pulling his head from between your legs, you fight for breath, Ezekiel leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses up your body until he reaches your mouth. “Mmmm, I think it’s your turn.”

He looks at you thoughtfully, cocking his head slightly, a small frown creasing between his eyebrows before moving to straddle your chest, his hand sliding to the back of your head, tilting it up while grasping your hair in a tight fist. “Yes, it is.” He pushes himself between your lips, touching the back of your throat, watching your eyes bulge slightly as you try and accustom yourself to his size, the wide girth straining the confines of your mouth. “You’re gonna take it, every last inch in that pretty mouth, like the slutty, demon fucking little witch that you are.”

You moan around him as he begins to fuck your throat, his grasp at your hair stinging your scalp, hips jerking forth, shunting as you tighten your lips eagerly, your eyes fixed on his, your hands wandering over his chiselled muscles as he shunts back and forth, his groans all smoke and salt at the filthy indulgence of forcing you to swallow his cock.

A trail of saliva exits your mouth, your eyes blinking tears, the demon watching you with the most twisted of grins, his intense stare making your nerve endings bounce, as the danger of the moment, the fact you are at the mercy of an entity that could kill you within a blink, collides with the soaring arousal. He grits against the wet clutch of your mouth, speeding up, the sounds of his arousal filling the air, inhuman growls making your heart quicken with nerves, knowing that what holds you down and penetrates your mouth with violent vigour is truly more beast than man.

He trembles, abs juddering, trails of sweat streaking his perfect skin before lets out a roar of inhuman proportions, the back of your throat flooded with his release, so hot, you feel it scorch as you swallow it greedily, watching as he pulls out, leaving you gasping, thumbing your lips. “Mmm, good girl.” Sliding down your body, he kneels between your legs, fingers stroking at the petals of your cunt before plunging within. “I suppose somewhat of a reward is due.”

He drags at your soft, wet warmth, circling, nudging spots that have tingles glimmering through you, your soft little cries filling the air, the muscles in his arm tensing, veins bulging, pounding into you savagely as he trawls you so thoroughly, you drip for him.

“Such a needy little pussy, honey,” he hums, feeling you flex around his fingers. “You dying for my cock yet?”

“Yeah, oh, fuck yes, I am,” you confess, watching him grin, loving that he has you completely at his mercy. And you know, since he’s a demon, he will show you absolutely none.

“Mmm, yes you are. Fucking desperate little girl, needing to feel my cock fill her up and stretch her out. Tell me how desperate you are.”

“You know already, you can feel it.” His hand suddenly moves to your throat, clutching hard, too hard, a wave of panic rippling through you, the demon staring down at you, black eyes boring into you like two dark beacons.

When he speaks, his voice is guttural, inhuman, eerier than anything you’ve ever heard. “I said tell me, mortal.”

You gulp, your tummy tremoring in fear. “I’m desperate for you, I need you like I’ve never needed another. Please, Ezekiel. I’m begging you. Fuck me.”

The stony, baleful look melts away, a grin creeping across his face again, your nerves calming a little. You’d forgotten for a short while, that it was pure evil you’d willingly invited between your legs, but you cannot deny that the frightening reminder was somewhat exhilarating. His grip loosens a little, but you are still pinned beneath the press of his hand, the fingers inside you crooking as he begins to rake at your sweet spots again, leaning to suck your nipples in turn, watching you falling apart for him.

“Hmmm, should I be good to you? It’d be being good to me, really, to feel this wet little hole drenching my cock.” He doesn’t wait on a reply, shifting to spear himself inside you, arrowing your soaking plush with a carnivorous grunt.

You’re skewered on him, feeling boneless against his bulk as his mouth buries at your neck. The pressure and power of him within is like taking an entire hell storm inside you, his hips rutting eagerly as he reaches your summit, bottoming out and dragging back, your cunt hugging him greedily in desperation for him to do it again, fill you wantonly and make you whole.

The noise he emits as repeats this action suddenly sounds more human than demon, an almost helpless moan, making you realise he is somewhat at the mercy of what sheathes him so snugly. Your womanhood has him entranced as he cuts through your slick with long, powerful thrusts, a slight rotation of his hips making you feel entire constellations explode through your groin.

You hang onto him as he spears you so deep your stomach shudders, legs and arms clinging on around his bulk as he begins to quicken, his mouth back on yours as his fingers graze your scalp and comb through your hair.

He lifts himself up, fingers trailing your cheek, his thumb forcing into your mouth, his chuckle deep, black eyes glittering in an unflinching, unbreakable stare.

“What a good little demon fuck puppet she is. This sweet little human body takes me so well,” he praises you with, sharp snaps of his hips sending his cock into you deeper, pleasure tinged with a little pain, grinning sinisterly at your wails. “Awww, baby. Did that hurt?”

“A little,” you gasp, Ezekiel’s chuckles continuing.

“Mmmm, good. Can’t have you enjoy it too much, although I think you liked it, didn’t you? You liked my cock making you ache. Tell me you did.” You can’t to begin with, his thumb pulled from your mouth, replaced with his tongue, kissing you primally.

“I did, I liked it,” you confirm. “You hurt so good, Ezekiel.”

His eyebrow flutters, his grin spreading. “You might not by the time I’m done with you.”

There it is again, a sharp tinge of fear slicing at your insides, a soft whimper escaping your mouth as you feel him hit you deep repeatedly, hooking his arms under your legs, levering them forward until your knees touch your shoulders, sending him deeper. Your slick walls pulse around him, and he falters, the need to let his darkness flow blocked by a greater desire to let the edges of his evil singe with the pleasure you evoke within him.

He takes your face in a tight clutch at your jaw, offering his mouth back to yours, exhaling with a lustful moan as he kisses you deeply. The feel of him rutting against you, dragging wetness from your cunt with every thrust, your dew bathing his cock entirely, your tense body finally relents, slackening and relaxing, moving fluidly against him as you pant, his mouth finding yours and stealing hot kisses from your lips.

He is tight and heavy within you, imposing and unimaginable in size and prowess, the power and rhythm of his fuck making you dizzy and drunk on him, his big hands grasping your face as your tongues entwine, his teeth then grazing your lower lip. A grumbled groan wells in his throat, hips jerking and sending him deeper, your walls clenching around him instinctively, a whimper fluttering over your lips as he drags sparks through you, pleasure taking root and coiling around the base of your spine like a vine about to ascend.

You feel completely floored by the desire that pours from him, his tongue running up your cheek, inky eyes staring down at you intensely. “You are fucking gorgeous, little witch. You’d better summon me again in the future, or maybe, I could just drag you back to hell with me.”

That baleful statement is delivered with him beginning to pound into you with unhinged vigour and boundless determination, syrupy bliss stirred in your loins as well as shocks of pain, your hands running down his chest and delighting in the feel of every rise and fall of his chiselled, bulky muscles, drinking him in, savouring him while you have him there, relentless between your thighs. He is as scary as he is sexy, and you have never experienced anything quite like such contrast.

His voracious dominance overwhelms you entirely, your body once again tensing around him as you chase your release, wanting to drag the same from him into you, your bodies colliding wildly as you pant and groan like animals in heat, everything frenzied and fervid, his dark lust the shadow that casts across your body entirely, your muscles tensing, sweat trailing over your skin, the heat of him makes you soar. He has you climbing to your peak, tumbling over with a series of soft cries, the thick intrusion of him sending lightning to strike home at the base of your spine, his thrusts staccato as he fills you with thick ribbons of cum.

And when he does, he stares at you, his black eyes roaring with flames, his entire being shimmering with embers, the demon pulling from you and standing. “Until next time, mortal.” His body glitters, before sinking down through the floorboards, an eerie chorus of wails flooding the room, his descent back into hell welcomed by the song of those he shares it with.

The only trace of him ever being there is the scorched mark his exit left upon the floor, while you catch your breath in the wake of his departure, unsure for a few moments if you could ever withstand another encounter. Could you feel his sin set you ablaze again?

Ten days later, and you find yourself walking towards the desolate crossroads once more.

#ez reyes #ez reyes x female reader #ez reyes x you #ez reyes smut #ez reyes imagine #kinktober #ez reyes fanfiction #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc smut #mayans mc fanfiction

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midnightscxre · 8 months

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@vcngefulwrath continued from x

Enchantedly the two pine-green orbs followed the crimson trails made by the remaining blood leaving the victim's body. Hypnotizing, intoxicating, the electric impulses and copper scented air surrounding him. The cruelness and superiority blessing the golden haired woman. A porcelain, perfect facial features like a doll from a rich industrial age. Countess painted on canvas with oil paints. One thing in common with both - ageless, eternally young and possessing the beauty of an angel. But hiding the demonic nature -- nature that sang to him like sirens and valkyries. Calling, demanding, bewitching. And Frank resisted not. Young, ruthless male that many tongues painted as soulless and monstrous consumed the sight and Charlotte's existence as a drug, getting high on the bloody mess he admired.

At first, weeks ago, maybe months, the careless mind lost count, it was the luscious shape, melodic voice and moon like eyes that caught his attention. Blood flew to the lower parts and promised not to bother him any longer if he succumbs to the primal need. The plan was simple, basic : ' Hit it and quit it ', as the street slang implied. Even the heartless refusal and lack of interest from the woman did little to shake the ground under his feet. He will wear her down, it won't be the first nor the last time he gets what he craves eventually. After all, they all fall for the bad boy. For the thug, fearless, mysterious, laud, smug and just -- wrong. The pretty ones always have the same type, as they all were the same - fetching but utterly boring.

Oh how wrong was the hardened male. So wrong that the spirit that got its fix on screams and suffering, pleads and inevitable death, froze. Shocked, bewildered and above all. . . surpassed. Watching the ivory fangs tear the skin more professionally and almost artistic like, way better than his blade did, made Frank to stare and worship. In that moment, his neck was chained to her wrist. Pushing and pulling, it didn't matter, as long as they were connected.

Tip of his nose gently brushed over the silky shoulder of the woman, inhaling the perfume that kept him awake at night and the well known iron smell of spilled crimson. Divine combination, infernal pleasure. " I would pile up much more corpses for you, if you just swallow that meaningless denial for once. " Calloused fingers lovingly grazed his own blood stained blade, fresh and warm since he himself was just back from his ' fun hunt '. Warm, alcohol scented breath glided across her collarbones, when the male leaned forward, his muscular chest kissing her elegant shoulders.

" Is it beneath you to run along with a human? " a grin, a hoarse chuckle on his own words. Warm lips grazing the cold neck of the deadly creature. " You know, there is not much of me that's human, except the flesh. How about a little loving bite, get yourself a fun company for eternity? " Shamelessly, maybe to boldly, did the pearly whites gently bit Charlotte's neck, suggesting what he was longing for.

#vcngefulwrath: charlotte #ft. frank

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hhyde · 2 years

Text

I miss him every day, he may not know but I do. How I fit so perfectly between his arms, naked body on the bedsheets. And my now soulless heart seems to only sing the blues. I must go, yet I mustn't. What have I done, my love, to you? I can't forget, I won't. I need you here, as selfish as it may be, I pour my tears into this song.

I'm not wise, never have I been, wishing for strangers on the sunny side of the street. He was never a stranger, beneath the blue moon, and still I fell as hard as never before.

I'm sorry for being a child, making you wait, making you cry, being this weight. I may be bewitched, can't trust my own brain, for when it's not vile it must be high.

#author #poems on tumblr #poem #poets on tumblr #poetry #writeblr #writing #poeticstories #writerscreed #writingthestorm #hhyde

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invictarre-archive · 1 year

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@tellnxlies asked: Describe Me! / description meme

You were always taught that men in suits were important, busy people. It was a necessity in Wyndon, you supposed, where most of the population were bankers and entrepreneurs and CEOs of one big business or another; people who definitely didn't have the time to entertain their Champion's attempts at conversation. They might have smiled when you looked at them, but it was empty, mouth pulled into a grin while their eyes remained dull and soulless. You'd heard how they talked when they thought you weren't listening.

So vocal, isn't he? The good Chairman needs to nip that Roselia in the bud before it becomes a problem.

You'd never liked them.

You'd tried, as a child. You'd learned to hold your tongue and ask the questions they wanted to answer. You'd learned to mask your Postwick accent, instead adopting the sound of old-money Wyndon boys. You'd learned to shake their hand and stroke their egos and pretend not to notice the looks they'd shoot Rose every so often.

You're glad that this one isn't like that.

He's a man in a suit, yes, and he always seems to be busy with something, but that's where the similarities end.

He's patient, even as he explains for the third time that Alto Mare is an island, an entirely separate landmass, and that you're not going to find it by wandering around here aimlessly. You're not even in the correct region - Alto Mare is Johtonian. He's patient even as he sees none of that information sink in, your expression surely one of vacant confusion, and resigns himself to having this conversation for a fourth time in the (probably near) future.

He's patient even as Amias decides to use that moment to leap from your arm to his, a mess of ribbons and gangly kitten limbs draping themselves across his shoulders like a pastel scarf. Amias, you scold, I taught you better than this! Who d'you think you are, accosting people? but the Sylveon isn't listening. He's too busy purring like a motor engine and making biscuits in the suit fabric.

It's then that you decide you like this man, upgrading him from stranger to pleasant acquaintance. Your team have always been an excellent judge of character.

One conversation becomes many, your paths intersecting whenever you find yourself in Kanto. He's a bit of a night Noctowl, you've discovered, for you rarely see him in the sunlight. It reminds you of your Champion schedule, always getting to called to Rose Tower when the moon was high in the sky and the rest of Galar slumbered beneath you, and you wonder if he's feeling equally as overworked as you were, back then. There are signs of exhaustion there, things so familiar to you you can't help but notice them, and you hope these run-ins distract from that bone-deep weariness, if only temporarily.

You find many different topics to talk about. Kanto's an easy one, the obvious choice, but you're surprised to learn that he can tell you almost nothing about the League stationed here. He's not one for the battling world, clearly. You bring up Galar, mention that that's where you're from - you don't imagine this is news to him, given your accent - and are this time unsurprised that he knows even less about that League. Your name isn't mentioned once.

You talk about the weather, a favourite Galarian pastime.

You talk about pokemon, your favourite pastime.

You know he has an Absol. It was mentioned off-hand once, an example brought up to better illustrate whatever point you'd been making about pokemon stereotypes, and you've been hoping to actually see it in person one of these days. There's not many who would be willing to partner with something so surrounded by superstition, the supposed omen of catastrophe itself, and you wonder what drew the two of them together. They say Absol always appears at the site of incoming disaster. Maybe he's one of those tornado-chasers; maybe he's affiliated with the rescue services.

( You'd be embarrassed by not knowing his name or job occupation if you weren't so safe in the knowledge that he doesn't know yours, either. )

There are many words exchanged, many topics explored, but you find that the one to really make him light up is the topic of Sinnoh. He mentions that he's from Twinleaf Town, a small place tucked away beside Lake Verity, if you know where that is. You do, as a matter of fact, and you waste no time in assuring him of such. He smiles, an expression you mirror, and he talks for much longer than you're used to. He talks for so long, in fact, that you start to worry you might make him late should he continue, and reluctantly bring this conversation to a close.

As you bid your goodbyes and wave each other off on your separate ways, you consider upgrading him once more, from pleasant acquaintance to something closer to friend.

#☆;; answered #☆;; in character #tellnxlies

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broccolimadeoutoforange · 5 days

Text

For my derelict lover

Here I lie, contemplating my existence as I’m watching you slip through my fingers. I really want to keep you, I swear to the God I’ve never prayed before. As I smeared gold through the cracked glass we shared, it fell to the ground and turned into pieces too small to hold. And when you opened the door, I was already gone. Yet I can hear your plea from across the wall as I scurry away from the home we thought we owned.

Why do you grieve, for a love you’ve already tainted?

For the lies already shared, pick up your swords and paint me with your blood.

Have you any chance of what retribution means?

To the journey I’ve never started, said I found another bask of sunlight. Its warmth surpassed yours. Yet I still longed for a dark and soulless night. Had I known it sooner, would I still crave for a prolonged sense of belonging I used to think I had with you. The sun taught me how to walk on my feet again. It taught me how to foster myself. Taught me what it means to feel protected.

So as I sit here looking at my reflection beneath the gray moon, morning is waiting for me.

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sunmoonjune · 2 years

Text

the kingdom of night

synopsis: this is a description of the petrichor universe in which my werewolf!stray kids au [storm clouds at midnight] takes place. this will function as a masterlist to fics from this universe as well as information about werewolves, vampires, the world, etc. this is mostly a lore piece, so there is not a lot of the reader in this

warnings: this piece details about the fictional world of the petrichor universe and about some of its species so there are mentions of supernatural creatures, as well as blood and death as well as war and killing (kept vague). there is also some suggestive content in this regarding mating and such, please be aware (minors please do not interact)

They’re tugging you forward.

You wish you could see their face.

As the hand persists, your vision is blurred by the sudden appearance of a small bright light in the distance.

You nearly giggle at their elation, and offer a squeeze of your hand in acknowledgement.

They’re waiting for you.

As the light closes in, your eyes slide shut as you cross the border into a new world, an anxious tension keeping them closed until you reach your destination.

Your first glimpse of the Kingdom of Night is through faint, alabaster light decorating the dark sky with dots of hundreds of stars; the full moon hovers overhead in a radiant glow of ivory white light, barely fading between the wisps of fog that coat the sky - the frosty night air smelling of cool, damp earth and a trace of rain – just like storm clouds at midnight.

*:･ﾟ About the Kingdom of Night! ･ﾟ:*

The kingdom of night is home to a world of creatures that stalk the night - werewolves and vampires among the few most well known. A plethora of other creatures wander through both the waking world and the night as well - some who are adept at blending in with the human species. Witches are the most common.

Werewolves, the shapeshifters of the Night Kingdom, function in packs. These packs are formed by those the leader of the pack - the Alpha - deems worthy. Often designation is given at birth, so most packs are considered families. Each pack is centered around a single alpha - the head of the family. Pack order following after the Alpha is typically chosen by the leader; some packs have betas and other similar ranks, but most do not. Alpha is the only title that holds tremendous meaning in a pack. Typically, there will be a second-in-command who commands the pack in the Alpha’s absence, but every group is different.

The Alpha is considered the strongest of the wolves he reigns. Typically, wolves of this rank are born from a family of the same designation, so their command is chosen at birth. Other alphas, who may form their own packs, may take up the role as they are chosen. Their control over their group of wolves is nonnegotiable - Alpha’s orders get obeyed regardless of conflict.

Alphas are very protective of their pack members and their territory. Each pack guards the borders of their land with vigilance as the safety of their territory is very important. The Alpha of the pack will typically put their own safety last. The protection of their pack mates is far more important to an alpha than their own - especially if the pack is formed of their mates.

Werewolves, being shapeshifters, have two different forms. As humans, they appear no different to the rest of human-kind. However, at a closer look, werewolves will still have the enhanced speed, strength and endurance of their supernatural kind in their human forms. In addition, their senses are extremely tuned, even in their human forms. Werewolves are adept at deciphering emotions due to these senses as they can smell the slight differences in pheromones that correlate with emotional changes. In human form, werewolves also operate at a higher body temperature, so their skin is often warm to the touch. This helps insulate their bodies against colder weather.

In their wolfish forms, werewolves are massive. Much larger than a normal wolf, werewolves are an immense form of pure muscle. With razor-sharp claws and elongated fangs, wolves are truly the predators of the night. In these wolf forms, pack members are able to mentally communicate with one another. However, regardless of this aid, pack members are remarkably in tune with each other, and can easily understand emotion and basic communication through scent changes and subtle movements.

Some silent communication between werewolves can be easily understood by outsiders. This includes displays of dominance. For instance, wolves bare their necks - showing the skin of their scruff and often their mating marks - to indicate submission. Snapping their teeth and giving verbal chuffs or growls can also show dominance among werewolves. In more rash circumstances, wolves will scruff another to display dominance. Biting the looser skin of another wolf’s neck will force them to go limp and docile under the more dominant wolf. All wolves, regardless of pack order, will show displays of dominance among their pack.

Packs formed of mates that are bound by a soulbond are exceptionally strong – as well as extremely protective. Wolves mate for life, so once a soulbond and/or mating bond is established, they will defend their own to their death. Most wolves will mate with their soulbond, but in the unlikely event that their fated other is not found, some wolves will choose their own mate. Werewolves fall only behind demons as the most protective of their soulbonds - likely only due to their shorter lifespan. Werewolves have extended lives, not immortal like demonkind, but longer than that of a human.

Werewolves have different courting customs to human-kind. Every pack may have different customs, but many will establish a sort of challenge that must be overcome in order to secure the mating bond. These courting customs may be slightly accelerated in comparison to humans, especially if the chosen mate is soulbonded - wolves fall fast and they fall hard. Mating challenges can be very different to each match, but they all have the same end result. If a werewolf is able to overcome the obstacle, they may take their mate and complete the bond.

In order to complete the mating bond, wolves mark each other. Mates will bite each other, sinking their teeth into their partner and breaking skin in order to create a mating mark. These marks will scar over, showing other wolves that they are mated. All mates are allowed to mark their partners, however, if there is an alpha involved in the mating bond, only their mark will be placed at the throat. This position is reserved for alphas as it is closed to the scruff and openly available for other wolves to see - marking their mates as their own. However, mating marks are not simply just a possessive sentiment. These marks are meant to connect all partners of a bond and allow them to belong to one another. Mating marks are very important to packs, and most will show their scars with great pride.

Mating marks are not necessarily painful. When the skin is broken, there may be a brief moment of pain before the mating bond takes over. The mating bond is a second connection that may overlap with a soulbond. While a soulbond connects the souls of fated partners, the mating bond will connect the rest of their being to each other. Additionally, it is not uncommon for a werewolf to have multiple mates.

Mating marks are permanent. Once a mating bond is established, the connection is eternal and being separated from a mate is extremely painful. Some werewolves have been known to succumb to agony if torn from their soulbond.

For a period after the mating bond is sealed, werewolves will become extremely possessive of their mates. The fresh bond is often far stronger in the time directly after the mark has been made. Most mates will settle into the pack’s territory for this time, staying close to their mates and refreshing the mating marks when it appears to begin fading. This ensures the mark will scar properly so that it will be clear for other wolves to see. During this period, wolves will appear a little more primal. While this portion of their biology is always present, the mating period riles up their pheromones and leaves wolves on edge. They will be very protective of their mates and seldom leave their side during this time.

Among both pack members and mates, scent marking is also an important part of werewolf custom. Scenting involves wolves rubbing their scent glands over their pack or their mates to ensure they smell like the pack. Other supernatural creatures with enhanced senses, like vampires or demons, will be able to tell that someone is protected by werewolves when they are properly scent marked. The most common scent glands for this are by the neck and the wrist. However, mates are often seen simply rubbing their scent onto each other regardless of location.

In addition to the time period after mating, werewolves are susceptible to mating season. Though it is not a sort of rut or heat like actual wolves, werewolves succumb to heightened pheromones and higher drives during the spring. Mates may be more prone to anger during this time, as the urge to protect and ensure the safety of their mates and their territory is higher.

In comparison to werewolves, vampires are not privy to shapeshifting. Vampires appear no different from human-kind at first glance. Only their slightly-elongated fangs and off-color eyes may indicate their biology. Additionally, vampires are indeed susceptible to the wrath of the sun and will burn under its rays, so they are not often seen in daylight unless privy to some sort of magic.

Most vampires are solitary. This allows them to roam in search of prey and ensure that their kills are not shared. Some vampires may mate in covens, but they are few and far between. However, these nomadic, solitary vampires sully the name of vampire-kind. Coven vampires are exceptionally docile, and typically survive only on the blood of those offering their own. Nomadic vampires kill as they see fit, leaving a trail of drained bodies and grief behind them.

The stigma between werewolves and vampires is not necessarily an eternal war between their kinds. While they do not take kindly to each other in most circumstances, some covens have been known to work well with werewolves. There have been records of small covens patterning with wolf packs to exterminate rouge vampires intent on destruction. In fact, a small coven in the Kingdom of Dusk is well known to supernatural creatures for aiding those in danger of hunters - werewolf or vampire alike. The leader of the five membered coven was rumored to have aided the alpha of the Stray Kids pack in the past.

The final supernatural creature that is the most well known in the Kingdom of Night are witches. Witches, like vampires, can live in covens but are often seen on their own. Those who live solitary lives are self-sustaining and don’t typically interact with many other creatures unless necessary. Witches are privy to many different kinds of magic. However, they can be known to be selective of the sort of magic allowed in covens. Outlawed witches are not uncommon due to their lack of powerful magic.

All witches have the ability to brew potions as it is not exclusive to magic-wielders. The alchemy behind potion making does require ancient texts that are difficult to find, however, and witches keep the information well hidden so often they are the only creatures safely brewing potions. All witches also have the ability to sense the magical auras of other supernatural creatures, no matter the amount of magic one wields.

The Kingdom of Night appears very similar to the human world. In fact, there are several communities of humans who remain unaware of the supernatural creatures that roam their world. Most creatures steer clear of these towns, ensuring their existence is kept secret.

Beyond these towns, supernatural creatures roam and interact with each other freely. Druids, Nymphs and Fae wander the world among the plethora of other beings that survive in the wild. The Kingdom of Night is full of magic and wonder, with its inhabitants caring deeply for the earth beneath their feet and treating their world with kindness.

*:･ﾟ About the Pack ･ﾟ:*

Bang Chan, the alpha of the Stray Kids pack of werewolves, is well known among supernatural creatures of the Kingdom of Night for his strength and bravery. Exiled from his birth pack for reasons known only by his own pack, Chan escaped bands of hunters with the rumored aid of a coven of vampires before forming his own pack of rogue wolves with whom he was soulbonded and mated to.

The eldest of his mates, Chan is well respected as the Alpha of his pack. Exceptionally caring and kind, the leader always puts himself last when it comes to the wellbeing of his pack members. In his human form, the Alpha has a faded, scarlet scar across the bride of his nose. His smooth skin is only marred by the single scar and the marks of his seven mates.

His huge wolfish form has a silky silver coat. Rare among wolf-kind, the white undercoat only has a few darker streaks of gray at the tips of his fur. Though it may be difficult for camouflage, Chan’s coat is breathtaking under the alabaster light of the full moon. His obsidian eyes stand out against his coat, a frightening color that barely differs from his pupils.

Lee Minho is the second eldest of the Stray Kids pack, as well as one of its first members. Marked by Chan not long after their first meeting, Minho became second-in-command not long after they were mated. His command over the pack is typically shared with Changbin.

In wolfish form, Minho has a coat of deep chocolate brown fur. He stands at a similar height to his alpha, but still below the size of his younger mate, Hyunjin. The rough brown fur of his form ripples over his muscle, his body built for both strength and speed. Among his mates, he is one of the fastest.

Seo Changbin, the next eldest of the pack, has been known to occasionally share the position of second-in-command with his elder. Though Minho usually shares more of the burden of this designation due to Changbin’s energetic, playful demeanor. Changbin often takes charge of keeping an eye on the other pack members and ensuring they maintain their training regimen.

His wolf is an inky black color, well camouflaged in the darkness of night. Changbin is one of the smallest of his mates in wolf form, but his body is one of the strongest in terms of strength. The werewolf is nearly pure muscle and has powerful legs and rippling shoulders that show his formidable tenacity.

Hwang Hyunjin is the tallest of his mates, in human form and wolfish. Known for his dexterity and regal appearance, Hyunjin practices long and hard to be considered one of the most agile on his pack. His movements both in human and wolf form are fluid and limber, making him an excellent hunter and warrior.

As a wolf, Hyunjin’s form is very similar to Changbin’s. Both coated in silky obsidian fur, the only difference lies in Hyunjin’s darkened brown eyes, where Changbin’s eyes match his ebony coat. Though, Changbin and Hyunjin can easily be separated as wolves based on stature alone; Hyunjin stands taller than his mate, with a lithe form meant for agility and speed, and his mate is more muscular and honed for strength and battle.

The first member of the Stray Kids pack after the Alpha, is Han Jisung. Jisung has been with Chan since the alpha’s exile from his birth pack – though the story is only known to the pack members. Some say Chan was exiled for protecting a rogue from an unjust death, while others paint a picture of a brutal traitor - only the Stray Kid’s pack knows the truth.

Jisung’s wolf form is a lighter brown - an almost soft chestnut color. His irises shine with a sort of similar amber color, nearly blending in with his fur. Like his elder, Jisung’s body is agile and his acutely tuned senses are excellent for tracking prey.

Lee Felix, commonly referred to as ‘sunshine’ among his mates, is truly a manifestation of all things good in the Kingdom of Night. His bright smile and soft giggle can melt even the coldest of hearts. Felix is rumored to have been part of the same pack Chan previously hailed from. Not long after Chan’s exile, Felix left his pack in search of the Alpha.

The sandy brown color of Felix’s coat is the lightest of his mates, aside from the white of the alpha. His golden eyes are reminiscent of the beaming rays of sunshine that Felix got his moniker from.

Kim Seungmin is the second youngest of the Stray Kid’s pack, but only by a matter of days, given his closeness in age to Felix and Jisung. Though his demeanor may not show much under the calm expression he wears, Seungmin is as much of a troublemaker as his other mates - he's just much better at hiding it.

The two youngest werewolves are very similar in appearance. Both are coated in dark brown, walnut colored fur and have similar lithe statures. Seungmin stands a fraction taller than his younger partner and can be recognized by his amber colored eyes.

Though Yang Jeongin may be the youngest of the Stray Kid’s pack, he is in no way the weakest. Despite his lean stature, Jeongin is an excellent fighter. Perhaps his status as the youngest pushes his drive further to prove his strength, as Jeongin easily outsmarts many of his mates in battle. He is remarkably quick thinking and limber of his feet, so he has no issue outmaneuvering larger, stronger wolves.

As stated, Jeongin’s wolf form is quite similar to Seungmin’s: with walnut brown fur, just a shade off from the inky black of some of his mates, Jeongin’s only difference from Seungmin are the color of their eyes. Jeongin’s eyes are dark brown, in wolf form and human.

The Stray Kid’s pack was formed by their Alpha, Bang Chan. Made up of mostly rogue werewolves without a pack, the soulbonded mates founded their own and marked their territory early on. Soon after established, other packs quickly got word of the strength of the Stray Kid’s pack through their fierce defense of their borders and the swift elimination of the hunters that grew too close to the territory. It did not take long for the supernatural creatures of the Kingdom of Night to understand that the Stray Kid’s pack was a formidable force, tightly knit and protective of their own.

So, my dear, now that you know what awaits you in the Kingdom of Dawn and your fate now rests in the hands of eight werewolves, answer me this:

Are you ready to meet the pack?

the first installment of the Kingdom of Dawn: storm clouds at midnight – poly!ot8 stray kids x fem!reader [werewolf au]

pick another door

a/n: I'm sorry this is a little shorter than the kingdom of dawn piece! there were powers and demon forms to describe in that one, so there’s a little less info to put here :( god I really felt like a wattpad werewolf author writing this omfg xD I promise it won’t be as silly in the actual fics, I just wanted to establish some things about wolves here, no matter how weird it ended up :))

did anyone catch the hint at a certain coven of vampires that may have their own kingdom in the future? ;D

#petrichor #stormclouds at midnight #masterlist #stray kids x reader #poly!stray kids x reader #poly stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #lee Minho x reader #changbin x reader #Felix x reader #han x reader #jisung x reader #seungmin x reader #hyunjin x reader #in x reader #jeongin x reader

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xo-cuteplosion-xo · 3 years

Note

Can I request Fyodor and reader dancing together at a masquerade ball?

I should be doing chem rn but I saw this and I happen to be listening to BSD playlists… So enjoy some fluff romance.

Kindle the fire with music

Fyodor x Reader (Gn)

Note: I made the reader a bit proper/fancy. Since there wasn’t much detail to this, my mind did wander away, and I immediately thought of the “rivals trying to one-up the other while dancing to avoid suspicion” troupe.

I had way too much fun writing this. It may end up my favorite so far...

Enjoy~

Candlelight, strings being plucked, chandeliers, people dressed in all sorts of gowns and suits surrounding and suffocating. No person went without a mask, concealing their identity. That’s what made these nights so interesting. Those who put effort into finding what was needed won in these situations. You blended in perfectly fine. Standing with your shoulders back, a glass of champagne held within your hand. Fine gloves to keep your fingers off the glass. The mask on your face providing you security tonight.

The chatter of voices among the soft entertainment provided by the musicians drowning away the intent of tonight. You set down the empty champagne glass, sliding your feet across the wooden floor to the center of the masses gathered. The clinquant sunlight dropped in with its last rays, echoing from the hanging crystal. With each step, a strand of that blissful light caught your skin, lighting your figure in eloquence.

Your body grabbed a random partner, grabbing onto the hand and spinning into synchronized movements. All while you whispered and evaluated information. From partner to partner, you chose each with a sly smile, cunning smiles, and sharp twists of the tongue. All until your flow was shifted in a direction you had not set to spin. Pulled towards a male figure, eyes a violet hue hidden beneath his mask. The silver twist of ornate silver wrapped with gold and edges with jewels, oceanic and sunny colors that made the endless depths of his eyes stand out. His hair slicked back the frame of his face, accentuated without hair falling loosely around his face. Despite the regal attire, the snowy-white clothes dipped in purple outlines, supported by a shawl decorated by soft fur leaned over his shoulders, he was recognizable. For his stance held a god-like demeanor, his grin wicked and soulless as he dipped you back. His lips needn’t part to entrap your gaze or capture your mind.

Each step, every new beat, each new look, the two of you engrossed within each other's presence. Not from love or care, but to deceive the other, to play the right cards and extract information from the brain of the other. “So the 'deity' attends. To see you dressed in such a way, attending something so fancy… how oddly new.” His voice spun with surprise, but lacking the emphasis of the emotion became a mere mock. His lips, full and smirking, as you took a step to lead the patterned dance the two of you battled within.

“Ah so 'god' appears. How rare it is to see such a man dressed with care, no longer appearing to have dragged his feet from the depths of the sewers?” Your tone spiked within its compulsive nature. Spite and distaste slipping through your voice. A feigned shock supported by a mere click of your tongue. Fyodor’s lips parted with a chuckle guiding the dance over the floor, his grip pulling you close to his chest.

“It’s usual for God to appear within elegance once a blue moon. Each sad soul begging for redemption with the halls. Hidden by a mask, a sense of false hope and security to their entitled will. Human minds are so easy to pick.” Fyodor's tongue danced on each syllable, humming with an allure meant only for your ears. His tone gentle, but cruel, threatening, but calming. Each step, an etiquette of forgotten grace.

Your smile is folded into a sweet but bitter twist. “Every mortal below the intelligence of a god is bendable, expendable, usable, and pitiable. Who’s to say we are no different aside from our status? If another were to appear, would we fight to see which one is fit to the throne of the heavens? Who is the master, who is the puppet?” Fyodor’s eyes moved from cold embers of amethyst to an intrigued violet, a blooming flower of anticipation. His arms held onto you with a strength that would not give room for mistakes.

“This is all too much fun. Have you still no intention of becoming the deity at my side? Alone we crush the world, devastation benefit of a hundred-year war. Together we could deconstruct and rebuild.” Though his words were warmer than the sun, more tempting than living, the consequences never let you slip.

Though you were the same, you were not. His ideals, a twisted fantasy that could never come to be the truth of this world. A world devoid of all its ability users would be rather hypocritical. The nations simply needed… a push. A rule to connect them, rules and laws, status and wealth. Why get rid of something so beneficial? “Your world has no room for two. Though I suppose if you threw such silly thoughts away, you would have a place by my throne.” Both parties smiled, wicked humor twisting over their lips. Finding information in the smallest of syllables and reactions. The passive expressions having differences no other could detect and crack.

“Ah, so you massacre tonight. Are you sure you're not a deity of hell?” Fyodor’s lips did not fall from his grin. His eyes lowered, softening as your feet followed him further from the center of the room.

“So cruel, but you're a demon yourself. These masks covering the pathetic waists of human space, were you not also planning to kill them all, have them repent?” Fyodor lifted his lips, spread wide across his face in bliss as his hands tightened their hold about your waist.

“Perhaps we hold a truce for the night, my dear?” With a cruel placement of your arms over him, your head dipped in a silent yes.

Following his steps outside the halls of glimmering gold and silhouettes of the blind, with hand in hand, the two of you, demons to the people, but gods to each other and the followers, slipped from the confines of the walls. Your breaths synchronized in your own rhythm, hands moving to the other's mask, sliding it down to enjoy the view of the elaborate treat as the sounds of humble screaming began.

Beneath radiant moonlight, showered in silver, seemingly the focus of the night your bodies pressed close. Lips, known for the crude and snappy remarks snapping together. The sympathy of crackling flames, screaming, and guns, the melody of the last dance you share with the Russian. Moving along the grassy fields until the spiral of sirens progressed to the ending of the piece. Oh, how you’d have loved to hear the sound of his cello along the screams. “Until we meet again, little deity.”

Chuckling to his words, your movements pausing to return the dismissal. “Yes, until we meet again, God.” The sound of the address on the other's lips, a hiss of resentment. Though it was aimed to mock, both of you took the boost of ego before walking separate ways. Leaving your mark on the masquerade.

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