#LIKE UGH my impulse control can only do so much

[diodellet]

.

[friendofthecrows]

Wish I had more of that stereotypical "refined genius psychopath mystery villain" vibes and less "dysfunctional no sleep cycle can't tell when/if they have emotions traumatized mess doesn't feel like a human paranoid future true crime psychopath" vibes. So that was word salad. Moving on.

[quimichi]

TW: obsessive behavior, talk about self harm, death, gore, blood, corpses, choking, talk about you being dead, bleeding, bro there's so much - MDNI

SUMMARY: A twisted boy with a twisted mind and a twisted love just for you ♡

CHARACTERS: Yandere x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 841

𓉸ྀི  Never EVER was Blake expecting to fall in love. At first sight too. He saw you and was instantly captured. My condolences, because with him in your life...it'll be turned upside down

𓉸ྀི You're his newest, recent hyperfixation, or better, obsession. Recent? Well, since he ever saw and read this short story in the internet, about death, killing, blood and guts, he was forever obsessed with it. Especially the graphic pictures that we're added for the "realism'. You see, one click on a link and a wrong turn can lead you down a dark alley filled with the darkest mysteries hold by internet. Hidden from those who would never dare step that far into an alley like this. Bit inviting and interesting to those curious enough to take a look...and forever be captivated.

𓉸ྀི with 12 year's old, exactly that happened. This weird 'dare' and a link went around school and of course 12 year olds are gonna jump on it like hungry wolves. His friend send him the link, he was dared to open it and take a look, but was to scared. So he send Blake the link also, so they can both take a look. Shared fear is only half the fear, right?

𓉸ྀི While his friend was throwinh up beside his bed, he kept scrolling. And scrolling...and scrolling. Weird...this doesn't affect him, at least not like his friend. Or how he thought it would. Everyone kept saying its gross, creepy and...twisted. Its odd that he, likes it.

𓉸ྀི His friend claimed he suddenly felt sick, so his mother picked him up. None of them wanted to raise suspicion of course...But the whole night long, Blake kept looking at the pictures over and over again, he read the story multiple times. He probably still knows it all word for word till this day. But what really captured his interest was that woman, how she looked in her own blood bath. Her guts hanging out, everywhere but inside her. Is this real? No it can't be right? No one would ever...

𓉸ྀི when he saw you, he saw that woman. You both look so similar. Maybe the eye color is a bit off, yours are a tiny bit darker but thats ok, you look just like her! Damn, even the hair!...he can't help but wonder if you would...no that's an unhealthy thought

𓉸ྀི he's 18 now, and for 5 years he was in the dark web looking for stories, pictures and videos like this to feed his constant hunger and need for more blood and gore. But he still knows, murder is wrong. But knowing is something else than doing. They both can go hand in hand, the only thing that's holding them both away from each other is the wall called self control.

𓉸ྀི He does have this wall, it just has multiple holes in it. Blake was no stranger to act on his impulsive thoughts. He cuts his arms sometimes when he wants to feel the pain or see the blood. He even tried the 'save way of cutting your wrist', the thrill of almost dying did send him over the edge....The research did help of course. He even tried choking himself, but that does not really do much for him unfortunately, there's nothing hot to it besides the bruises he left on his neck.

𓉸ྀི But right now the wall he trained to stand against the army of his running thoughts is about to crumble by just looking at you. You'd look so great in red, a deep dark red surrounding you...oozing out of y-no-! This is wrong-! He knows you're so so much more than a body, than a corpse. You have personality...damn you really look like you have a great personality.

𓉸ྀི...w-wait-you looked his way-! WHY ARE YOU SMILING AT HIM-! Was he looking at you this entire time?? Ugh, hes such a creep-! Yes, he knows he's one but he doesn't have to act like one to make it obvious- He's so weird, he doesn't deserve you, he would NEVER deserve you. The only thing that deserves him would be the maggots and the mould, eating his decomposed cadaver.

𓉸ྀི If it's not him, than it's definitely your smile that killed him right there and now, on spot. He's disgusting why are you looking like him. Why do you show interest. Why is he smiling back. And why does he really feel the need to hold you in his arms, and kiss you. A kiss that would probably be the beginning of cannibalism. Drag his mouth and theeth across your chest to taste your beating heart...if he thinks like this then living can be beautiful, and so are living things. I mean...you are most definitely beautiful. And you're alive.

𓉸ྀི But you'd be just as pretty dead, rotting and overcome with mould, having flys around you while your body drys out and sinks....but yeah you're maybe even a tiny bit more beautiful alive. (Much more but he can't say it just yet)

TAGLIST: @lucienbarkbark @hehothrowawayfae

[hamiltonaf]

Summer Break(Up) | Mason Mount

Pairing: Mason Mount x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Angst to fluff

A/N: Had this in my drafts for quite a while, about time that I posted it. Hope you babes enjoy. Requests are open .xx

Today felt like the first time in a long time that I got ready to go out, that too on a date. Never thought I would be doing this but deep down I know it's exactly what I need to do to get my mind off things and finally move on. It hurts to move on when you still love someone, but you know what they say... love hurts.

Its been almost a month now since Mason and I broke up right after the summer break. We had a pretty dreamy and amazing summer break - or so I thought - I guess only one of us felt that way.

We had just arrived back in England and Mason was acting off the entire day. I knew something was playing on his mind that was bothering him and had him agitated... the last thing I expected was a break up being a good idea.

He distinctly did it just before I was flying back home, the perfect excuse to not see the pain on my face when he breaks the news to me.

Its as if his words had haunted me, they continue to play on my mind till this day.

FLASHBACK

"(Y/N) I hate to break it to you...ugh but I'm just going to be straight forward about it" he paused in between words watching my reaction. "Well ?" I asked raising a brow. "We need to break up" he said as he finally met my eyes. "Is this a joke ?" I asked raising my brows. "No it's not (Y/N)" he sighed. "And what's the reason that you want to break up ?" I asked calmly. "I just.. I want to just focus on football" he said as he lowered his head to play with his fingers.

"Ohh the typical excuse" I half laughed. "What do you mean excuse ? I'm being serious" he said as he started to grow annoyed. "All of you guys are the same. It's always 'I'm focusing on my career' and then boom you rock up with a new girlfriend after a while. If you have someone else in the picture then just say it !" I said growing frustrated, I let my impulsive thoughts take over. "What the- no ! If you're saying I'm cheating on you, I would never !" He said defensively.

"So then what's the need to break up ? Am I too distracting for you ? I can easily be out of your way whilst still being your girlfriend so I don't see the issue ?" I said whilst raising my voice. He kept quiet after my valid point. "I get it now. The silence speaks for itself. No point in me fighting for a relationship that doesn't exist anymore" I said as I walked over to grab my bags. "(Y/N) I'm sorry" he said lowly. "Don't be. Best of luck this season" I said lastly and walked out with my bags earlier than planned. It was only then when I was alone that the tears spilled and I couldn't control them. With my vision blurred I don't even know how I managed to arrange transport to the airport - I guess at that point I just wanted to get away from there and from Mason.

END OF FLASHBACK

I would be lying if I said that I didn't check on Mason’s instagram. I mean nothing is wrong in that since we both still follow each other and we didn't make the break up public. I mean we still had each others pictures up but it wasn't good enough to camouflage people into thinking we were still together. The fans are 10 steps ahead of us and pretty much cracked that we did breakup and when the breakup happened.

I guess it's my fault that I didn't post to show my support for Mason whilst I was away. Joke. Oh well who cares... we couldn't hide it forever and these things happen.

It's all because of (Y/BF/N) I'm rushing to get ready, she just had to open her mouth and set me up with her boyfriend's friend. All I know is that his name is Ethan.

Whilst I was doing my hair I thought why not go live on instagram and do a get ready with me since I didn't do one in ages and besides that, I was feeling bold. As soon as I went live, my views went from 10 to over 5000 within a few minutes. "Hi there for all those joining ! I'm currently getting ready to go out so I thought why not chat with you guys in the mean time" I said as I skimmed through the comments. "Where are you going ?" I read out the comment. "Well, I'm going on a date" I smiled. "Why weren't you at the last match ? We missed you !" I read out the next comment.

"Aww sorry about that..I've just been so busy with studying that I had to sacrifice a match to finish up my work" I pouted. After those questions, I did my makeup and explained each product that I used. With a final spritz of setting spray and perfume, I shook my fingers through my hair and revealed my full look for the evening.

"That's it guys ! Hope you guys found this entertaining. Thank you to every one of you for sending in questions and sorry if I didn't get through to everyone. I swear I'll try to do more of these in future" I said as I skimmed through the comments one last time. Many of them said 'Mase in chat'. "I'm seeing a lot of Mase in chat comments. Did I miss something ?" I raised a brow. My body froze when I saw his comment '😍😍😍'.

"Ohhh Mason is here !" I wanted to roll my eyes on camera but I couldn't. "Anywho guys I'm running late. Love you guys and hope you all have an amazing evening. Wish me luck. Ciao !" I said lastly before throwing a kiss at the camera. The live ended and I rushed to grab my purse. I was in a rush only because I was driving tonight, Ethan had offered, but just in case things didn't go well then I can easily make an excuse to leave early if needed. As I jumped in the car my phone started ringing through the Bluetooth, thinking it's Ethan I answered the call. "Hey ! I'm so sorry I'm running late..I'm on my way right now" I said as I drove out of my driveway. "(Y/N)" haven't heard that in a while, he paused before saying "It's Mason."

I looked at my phone and mumbled "shit". "Guess I'm not the person you want to talk to right now" he chuckled. "What do you want Mase ?" I rolled my eyes. "I uhm saw your live and I'm around so I was hoping I'd see you to catch up" he suggested. "Of course you thought that...Mason we've been broken up for almost a whole month, you didn't care to talk to me since that day and suddenly because you saw me get ready for a date you thought that now is a good time to come back into my life ?" I asked.

There was a pause before he spoke up again. "Don't go on that date" he softly said. "Why?" I asked, waiting for his valid reason. "You know why" he said. "No, Mason, I don't. Say it" I was getting frustrated that I actually pulled over to the side to have this conversation. "I can't get you out of my mind !" He admitted. I stayed silent for him to go on. "As much as I tried to focus on football, the days that I was off all I could think about is spending my free time with you. I missed your laugh, your smile, your cuddles and your kisses, especially after a bad day. I miss everything about you" he said defeated. "Mount, why are you telling me all of this now ? It took you a whole month to realise that or are you just jealous that I moved on and you didn't ?" I questioned.

He sighed, "I just felt terrible since the last time we were together. I wanted to give you space and I assumed you hated me so much that we'd never get back together after that." "Hmm...okay" I said casually. "Soo are you coming back home because I'm waiting outside ?" He asked hopeful. "Wait what ?" I asked flabbergasted. He wasn't joking. "I'm literally outside your house, no joke" he said. "What the- Mason. I- I'm literally speechless" I had a million thoughts running through my head. What do I do ?

"Come home so we can talk please" he said. Why do I feel the need to go back home ? "Your timing is literally the worst. I need to call Ethan and see if he's -" I was cut off. "Who the fuck is Ethan ?" He asked as he got protective. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "My date" I said plainly. "Do I know him ?" He asked. "None of your business. Anyways I'll call you back. Bye" I ended the call just as he called my name. I noticed that Ethan sent a message a few minutes ago saying that he was going to be running late. I felt terrible to do this but I have unfinished business with Mason. I messaged Ethan to apologise that I won't make it tonight as I had a family emergency and if we could rather rain check. I made a u-turn back home and luckily Ethan was understanding, and replied saying that he hopes everything is okay and hopefully we'll meet soon. Aww bless him.

Just as I got home I noticed Mason’s car parked on the driveway. I parked beside him and jumped out as he followed. He whistled as he looked at me from head to toe. "Darling, you look breathtaking" he said as he walked closer to me. He greeted me by kissing both of my cheeks. "Thank you" I softly said as he then surprised me by handing over a massive bouquet of red roses. My facial expression changed, "What's all of this for ?" "Just to makeup for the lost time in this past month" he said. "Aww" I cooed.

I then unlocked the door and went inside with Mason following behind me. "Soo what happened to that guy ?" He asked. "He was running late so I said we can rain check for another day" I shrugged. "You're still going to go on a date with him ?" He asked, low-key feeling betrayed. "Mason can you just forget about Ethan and focus on the reason why we're here after a whole month" I said as we both took a seat beside each other on the couch. He sighed before speaking up, "You asked me earlier why now and I ignored your question. Whilst we were broken up I would see your posts and stories, especially when (Y/BF/N) would post with you. You always looked so happy and looked like you're living your best life without me. I thought to myself that you seemed happier without me" he said as he laid his head onto the couch and turned to look at me.

"You really thought I looked happier without you ?" I raised a brow curiously. "Yeah ! So many little things reminded me of you - like someone cracking a joke or laughing, I'd think that's something you would say" he smiled. I smiled back, 

"It hurts..." he said seriously. "What?" I asked as I furrowed my brows. "Loving someone who doesn't love you..." he said softly. I half laughed. "What's so funny ?" He asked worried. "That's exactly what I thought the day I left. I thought our relationship was one sided the whole time" I pursed my lips. "What ! No no no. I never stop loving you okay ? Please don't forget that. I was hoping to at least be friends that time I broke the news but things turned south" he pressed his lips together.

"Bold of you to assume that 2 people who are in love with each other can be friends" I said as I laid back as well and turned to face him. "Wait so you still love me ?" He asked in shock as he sat up right. "Unfortunately yes" I sighed. He had a cheeky grin on his face. "I'm sorry for being selfish and stupid. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm also so sorry for all the pain I caused you, you didn't deserve any of that. Please find it in your heart to forgive me and be my girlfriend again" he smiled. "Hmm let me think...okay" I shrugged. "So am I forgiven ?" He asked excited. "Yes, yes you are" I smiled. He brushed a strand away from my face and cupped my cheeks. His eyes looked between mine and my lips. "Can I ?" He asked softly. I nodded my head as he connected his lips with mine.

[sugar-omi]

TRANS MASC COVE TRANS MASC COVE (sfw +nsfw hcs pls,, id love your thoughts)

NO BC NOW YOU'VE PUT THOUGHTS IN MY HEAD N I NEED HIM DESPERATELY eta while im in the middle of writing: after this i... i can no longer hold onto my fem!cove thoughts. n i am eating up trans!cove like a starving ANIMAL.

tags : SFW + NSFW, transmasc (ftm) cove, switch cove/reader, some mentions of body/gender dysmorphia, im sure theres 1 transphobe walking around sunset bird so the smallest mention of that clown

SFW

i've been seeing a lotta top surgery scar tattoos on my twt timeline lately, and pls some of them i need for myself bc they're so!!!! pretty!!!!

so i can definitely see him getting tattoos there

not because he wants to cover em up, i just think he sees so many flash sheets over time that he's SOLD

mmm i wanna say that fem/afab!cove would have small boobs

or B cups at most

either way, i almost wanna say that his boobs before surgery wouldn't bother him as much unless someone was sexualizing him or he was exercising n his boobs were bouncing too much or smth like that

even then its usually complaints of, "ugh, this bra isn't supportive..." or something like that

ofc he still has his moments

i also think he only binds sometimes, rarely

doesn't do it often since it's often hot outside, or especially if he's sporty, its uncomfortable

(also looked it up just to be sure) but since he's always on the beach its inconvenient/unnecessary to wear if he can't wear it in the water

but like i said i think he'd be pretty flat/small anyway, so i think he's okay

mm definitely doesn't give up having long hair, or wearing the occasional dress/skirt ofc

but will correct one of the old sunset bird residents if they try and say "see honey, it was a phase, you're wearing a dress today!"

also idk abt yall, n this is more of a general thought, but i feel like step 2 cove's impulse control is. deathly low.

so one day, he has long/long-ish hair

and the next he has a mullet, wolf cut, or buzz cut.

he's so chaotic to me pls

now i've had fem!cove on my mind for weekssss now

so i'm not just saying this

but cove is still buff

thick muscly thighs, NICE ARMS. REALLY NICE ARMS

mm so i feel like he looks pretty androgynous or masc anyway

now im projecting here.

but cove has irregular periods, n they're pretty heavy most the time

or lasts awhile (ok im done projecting. sorry cove</3)

also think he deals with cramps (IM SORRY COVE)

i think his period is the biggest trigger of his body/gender dysmorphia too

although i think fem!cove would hate her period anyway altho tbf who doesnt

he'd definitely appreciate some comfort!!!

bring him another heating pad, your comfiest hoodie or blanket and snacks

he's very happy for the thoughtfulness and the company

step 2 cove would definitely be moved by such thoughtfulness... he's in tears

so after the first time it's a trend to spend time together in his bed, watching movies or something while he's cuddled into your side or next to you in a cove-rrito, all sleepy n comfy...

NSFW

had to stop writing the SFW to write this bc i had a thought

cove laid out all pretty... his chest rising and falling and he's all teary eyed as you're between his legs, eating his cunt until he's seeing stars.

pls his cunt with be so sensitive, and he'd be so pretty to fuck

would shake so much too

his thighs quivering so bad he clamps around your hand

you'd have to hold his legs up so he doesn't nearly flatten your head between his thick thighs

"y/n!" cove cries, his hands tangled in your hair and he's trying so hard not to squish your head between his thighs, but your tongue is flat against his sensitive clit, sucking and bullying the poor button while your fingers make a loud, sloppy mess of his hole.

he whines, hips shaking in your hands.

you tighten your grip on his waist, your fingers digging into the flesh, grumbling irritably around his clit but cove just cries out a loud moan and slurred word, torn between your name, a cuss word, and a cry for god.

you pull of his clit, your fingers still curling against that spongy spot inside his sloppy walls. "stay still, you're gonna crush my head..." you start to kiss his thighs, small kisses turning into you sucking deep hickeys into his tan skin, and that turning into biting.

cove gasps for air, his eyes fluttering closed as he squirms.

"fuck, y/n, please..." he mumbles, tugging at the bedsheets.

you stop the assault on his thighs, leaning up on your elbows so you can give cove a kiss, your lips lazily moving together...

anyway... horny aside for a moment<333

mm i could see cove not getting or really wanting bottom surgery

i think trans cove would be pretty comfortable with his body's appearance overall

and he's probably read into it a lot since it's not like he hasn't thought about it, i could just see him probably deciding its not something he wants

ARGGHH HE'D BE A DEMON WITH THE STRAP THOUGH

ahh. cove holding you down or folding your legs against your chest while he slams his hips against yours...

his strap hitting your poor prostate / cervix, he'd coo about how cute your whines are and that you're making him leak

would definitely upset he can't fill you up w cum

especially if you wanna get pregnant, rambles about how much he wishes he could fill you up with his cum again and again and again...

arghhh fuck imma lose my MIND

definitely takes advantage of those squirting dildos

can at least admire how you look oozing milky lube

omfg definitely wakes up all excited to tell you if he dreamed about it too...

has an array of straps

we already know he has a tentacle dildo or two deep in his closet...

yeah tries them out on you

"don't get tired yet, i have one more.. and it has a knot!!!"

he just likes to experiment on you a little~~ bit <333

ohh please tell him he looks handsome/sexy while you're giving him head

he'll die.

FUCK HE'D GO CRAZY IF YOU RIDE HIM TOO I KNOW IT

yeah he's still the same cute, secretly horny, big crybaby pookie <3333 i love him pls

[ofallthingsnasty]

Urrrgg im such a wuss about physical pain but something about punctured wounds specifically makes me scared more than cuts or bruises. I think it’s something about the “intrusion” that a sharp object does when it stabs you that it doesn’t do when merely cutting you

Suffice to say Crocodile even threatening to give me a “piercing” will scare me into submission. Suddenly I’m throwing out my escape plans because I do not want to be hurt like that 😓 Sir you can spank me however you want but PLS don’t put that hook anywhere near my face

oh goodness anon, you're way too cute 😭💕 he would never ever hurt you because i say so.... but this also made me think...

tw. yandere, violence, a little over-the-top gore (facial), references this post

Now that you mention it - there are two ways he could harm you with his hook in that specific scenario, one more planned and one more impulsive. (To pierce your tongue, he’d need a forceps or at the very least a very steady hand or else he’s going not only cut into your tongue but the floor of your mouth as well - which could lead to severe bleeding and neurological damage, oh my. Your cheeks are a different story - he might still injure a tiny branch of the facial nerve but you’re not going to lose some motor functions.) 

But to be honest - if he does this to you, it’s going to be entirely impulsive because he’d have to be exceptionally mad. Angry beyond belief or reason, so precision and thought aren’t going to be present. (Even if I really want him to get my tongue, ugh 😔) He isn’t even going to threaten it, he’ll just launch forward like a man possessed and puncture your cheek, force his hook through the fat of your face until he hits your teeth, just lashing out, just senselessly hurting you to shut you and your horrid mouth up.  And god help you if you react on instinct and pull away, because that is going to net you an open cheek and a nasty scar.

Will he feel guilty just moments later, as rare as that emotion is for him? Yes. Will it stop your incessant  babbling and shock you into submission? Also yes. Like you said, I can only see this happening once, maybe twice? You’d have to do something so outrageous and disrespectful and keep at it to get this rather calm man to that point - but it’s achievable and a serious escape attempt could do it.  But you being feisty plays a big part in this - because if you aren’t (if you grovel and cry and beg for forgiveness, kiss his feet to soothe that anger, worship him like you’re supposed to), he won’t end up that mad. You’re still going to regret it, no doubt, but he has this pesky little soft spot for you that, if pressed, can mellow him out rather quickly. It really depends on you and your actions.

But if it happens? If the meat of your right cheek suddenly loses tension and flaps around because his hook is too big to control and you instinctively pulled back, away from the pain, the hurt? All that anger is going to evaporate in an instant. He just needs to see your stunned face, pain barely registering because of the adrenaline that is running through you, just needs to see all that exposed fat and muscle to immediately regret it. It’s a grotesque sight; yellow, pink, stark red mixing as your teeth gnash in horror and your thoughts are going a mile a minute trying to register what just happened. Of course, he wastes no time and takes you in for the best care he can find in that moment, intent on keeping both the functional and aesthetic damage to a minimum - but his hook is big and brutish and the wound leaves you with a gnarly scar, no matter how skilled the hands of your surgeon are.

When it’s all said and done, he’ll still feel that little pang of guilt from time to time when he traces the scar with his thumb - but it’s more that feeling of regret a little boy gets when he scratches up a brand new toy, that disappointment that it isn’t shiny and new anymore and not genuine remorse because he inflicted so much pain on you. He can’t feel bad about it for too long when he remembers that you see what disobedience gets you every time you look into the mirror. It might have marred your looks - but it has made you so wonderfully pliant as well, has earned him your respect. 

[princelylove]

Thank you your highness for answering all my questions on ranking yandere Joestar and Jobros. This time, can I ask for the Jofoe too? I can't rank them myself because all of them are so dangerous, I seriously see all of them have equal rank.

I'd love to hear your opinion on this, please enlighten me with your knowledge my prince ~

~ 🏵️ anon ~

I just realized I forgot funny valentine. That's on me. Oops. I don't know, have you considered just... not being american? Super easy to avoid him just get on a boat and don't come back. Kidding, I'll write something serious for him later on. They're all bad, but a general easiest to hardest:

Doppio is a hard worker. He devotes a good chunk of his time to carrying out orders for the boss, he doesn’t really have time for a darling, but… Boss will allow him to have a crush. It’s a little treat. As long as Doppio keeps his distance, it’s harmless. He spends his weekends following his darling around- he asks Diavolo to look into you for a little reward. He does well on a couple of jobs in a row? Here’s your favorite color, and what you wear for pajamas most nights. Doppio has a lot of self control, he’s not going to cave just because you’re gorgeous and he has some free time. He’ll keep his distance until Diavolo gives him permission to engage- which he won’t be receiving any time soon. Doppio’s darling- I feel as if  “crush” is significantly more appropriate- likely won’t know that they have a secret admirer who already knows every little detail about their life until it’s time for Doppio to receive a proper present. Maybe for Christmas Diavolo will let him bump into you in the street. 

Yoshikage Kira is safe if he’s obsessed enough. He’s a bit impulsive with collecting his girlfriends, but he doesn’t like you for your hands. He likes you, as a whole. Ugh. That’s so annoying. He doesn’t want to have a real partner- do you know how much effort it is to have one of those and keep up his streak of roughly fifteen years of killing? He’s not going to just let his little habit go, but… maybe you’re fine with him having something on the side, to hold himself over. Maybe. He’d have to ask after pursuing you normally, and if you say no, or Kira decides not to ask at all since ‘hey that’s weird and we’re trying to be as normal as possible here’… well. He’s been lying this long. Might as well add another to the lie bin.  Since he wants to be as normal as possible, he doesn’t express any of his yandere tendencies until much later on- and he can be satiated if you play into his fetishes and preferences enough. 

DIO has matured a lot in his life, surprisingly. He’s not going to kill off his darling just because he’s in a mood. He’ll do it for a proper reason. You’ll have warnings. You’ll have easy, simple rules established very early on in knowing him. Really, are you trying to provoke him into punishing you? Simply ask if that’s what you want. He spoils you so, doesn’t he. DIO cares a lot about his darling actually wanting him- if he’s forcing it, it ruins the experience. He understands you need to have a proper relationship with him, complete devotion won’t happen in a day. Make no mistake, you will be his, he’s just fine going slowly. He’s certainly got the time for it, and it’s not like he’s holding you captive. No, no, never captive. Possibly if he snaps because you keep outright rejecting him and it’s really setting his abandonment issues off. He’ll just send a little toy to keep you company when you feel the need to go on a little outing. Vanilla Ice will hold your bags for you, or maybe Mariah can show you around. If neither of them are someone you want to socialize with, he has options. Lots of options. 

Enrico cares less about you having a choice. To him, he knows better, and is often frustrated with your judgement. Please listen to his advice- he’s only here to provide you with the resources you need to flourish. If Enrico has no problem talking to DIO as his equal, then he certainly has no problem telling his darling ‘no’ directly. He recommends passages in the bible to read that directly coincide with what’s going on in your life- You often find little handwritten notes in your cell on your desk. The first time it happened, there was a bible sitting on your bed, with a note being used as a bookmark. It was between the pages of Isaiah- stuck in the pages about sin and confessions. It makes you gag how neat and proper his handwriting is, “My doors are always open for you.” When you don’t come, he leaves another note, with a page and paragraph you’re supposed to read before whatever it is he has to say. If the slightly passive aggressive notes don’t reach you, perhaps a more personal approach is needed. 

Dio in his youth is… unstable. He hasn’t learned that patience is king. He knows what he wants, and he’s going to get it now. Denying him is the stupidest move you could possibly make, he has all of this newfound power and confidence and isn’t going to waste it by letting you just get away. You may scurry off if he frightens you too much, he does love the chase. He just can’t help himself when he catches you- you look good trapped under him, he needs a little reward. It’s not going to hurt, it’s just a small bite… Have fun with a chunk of your neck missing because little dio got excited and couldn’t help biting as hard as he could. 

Diavolo is a classic creep. He’s a bit repressed. Over a decade of restraint will do that to you, but Diavolo doesn’t realize that touching himself to the cameras he placed in your room and the places you frequent isn’t going to satisfy him entirely. Maybe Doppio can spell it out for him- he should indulge! Live a little! The last time he ‘lived a little’ he made the worst mistake someone in his position could possibly make, but hey. He was young, you can’t really fault him for that. Diavolo monitors you as if it’s part of his job- there’s absolutely nothing he doesn’t know about. Your other suitors are taken care of by la squadra esecuzioni, they have a bit of a running joke that they’re praying for you to get around a bit more, easy jobs are welcome when the boss works them like dogs. Diavolo is happy to watch you, he keeps a tab open of whatever you’re doing while he works. Indulges by having Doppio follow you on your errands, lightly suggesting he should record. You often receive expensive gifts from a ‘secret admirer,’ with typed notes attached. It’s only a matter of time until that isn’t enough to hold him over, and he sends someone to collect you. No, now that he’s thinking about it… No one will treat you as well as he would, it’s better not to leave you to the hands of someone just doing a job. Diavolo fully intends to love you, and won’t take a ‘no’ once he’s broken his streak of self control. 

Kars did not always want a mate. He’s not really the romantic type, or someone who clings to sentiment, but there’s just something so adorable about you. He loves life, although he normally isn’t fond of humans. He loves seeing the life in your eyes, the way your chest moves up and down in fear as he gets closer… He’s salivating at the thought. Kars tells himself he wants a pet at first- he already has a sizable family. He has a son figure, he has a… He’d call Santana a pet, really, he has someone his age to socialize with… He supposes he could use a mate. Kars hasn’t had one of those since he was just a little one, and it’s not really something he missed. When you express that you don’t want to bow down and give everything up for him, Kars is more than confused. You must be making a joke- he’s heard of humans telling obvious lies for humor. How amusing. Now, come when you’re called, or he’ll send Santana to retrieve you. He prompts you often, but you can tell he doesn’t really care about the answer. You bore him sometimes with your ‘Please don’t hurt me’ and your ‘Please, please, let me go’ nonsense, how could he be expected to always find it fun? Your resistance only amuses him when you do something about it. Good, you’re running. Kars would love to play chase with you. 

[walkingstackofbooks]

DS9 5x07 Let He Who Is Without Sin thoughts (I’m re-watching, so beware spoilers for future episodes!) [14 Sept ‘23]

Odo and Sisko ribbing Jadzia about her sex life XD

It's so cute that Worf still calls her "Commander" around others.

Hmmm, I was firmly against Worf last time - and I still don't like his whole thing against Boday - but also Jadzia is pretty disrespectful to what he wants, immediately telling people after Worf says it's a private matter.

"Have you ever noticed all the stars look the same?" I love Leeta so much, I can't wait to see more of her when she and Rom pick up.

"What's jamaharon?" "I'll show you later." XD that look!

Their "casual" outfits! Oh, 90s fashion crimes... I miss you

"Aren't you uncomfortable in your uniform?" I mean uniforms and not having to decide what to wear are The Best. (And also I am very much on the autistic Worf headcanon and can imagine uniform gives him a sense of comfort in a very uncomfortable environment.)

Worf! That was Very Romantic! I did not expect you to compare Jadzia to a nebula, ngl.

As much as I think Jadzia should be allowed to reconnect with a friend without Worf's jealousy, she's also not very considerate of his feelings. Blagh.

I actually kind of like this episode more now that I'm not just anti-Worf? I do wish Jadzia was allowed to just be the single, flirtatious woman - or polyamorous, flirtatious woman - she was meant to be, though.

Worf's scowl upon finding his "bathing suit" is Very Justified.

Worf's dumbfoundment at Leeta not being with Dr Bashir is hilarious. I do still like messing with his sense of what is "right" and "wrong".

Ugh, this man wants to paint himself as a "victim", doesn't he... "I can only imagine what you must think of me." Yeah, no, it's not that people hate you because you know some secret "truth" they don't want to hear, but because you're an awful, paternalistic, condescending killjoy.

"I may be wrong, but didn't he just insult us?" I love Julian.

Boy, do I want Jadzia or Julian to stand up and speak about their experiences with the Klingons or Dominion that he couldn't begin to understand.

"You two dishonour each other with your actions!" "You mean... We didn't tell you why we came here." Actually hilarious, Julian, how?

"I hope we proved our point." You wouldn't have if Worf hadn't stopped Jadzia attacking back, you'd be on the ground.

"I did not say you were doing anything wrong. It's just that some of your behaviour-" Aghhhh, I actually hate understanding Worf because this speech is awful but also it's coming out wrong. What he *wants* to say is he's feeling hurt by her disregard for his feelings but he can't put it like that.

And what he actually says IS awful - "At times, your are too impulsive. You act without thinking. You have no self-control." - because HE'S just as impulsive as her, and in ways that have actually hurt him and Starfleet - look back to his trial!! His fight with the Jem-Hadar when working together on the Defiant! He cannot stay himself when it is his Klingon pride at stake.

And Jadzia is rightfully hurt by these words, and how Worf has generally been acting, because if he meant it the way it sounds it would really not be great of him! I hated him the last timei watched this, and I really wasn't expecting that to change!

"Jadzia you are my par'machai... and everything you do reflects on me." That was not how that sentence was supposed to end 😅

I hate it but I'm actually liking this episode quite a bit - it's the classic miscommunication trope, but genuinely not from lack of trying on Worf's part, simply from lack of ability.

Leeta's so vicious in smashing the dish!

Quark is so hopeful with Leeta's revelation that he might see some of those "fireworks" he was taking about... xD

Hmm, not so sure even the Bajoran ceremony quite makes one ready for that sort of honesty, quite so soon, Leeta...

Worf calling her "Dax" as he spots her with Arandis. Seeing her as the symbiont and Curzon, not Jadzia.

Ugh, "you're too much work". Why did you have to say that? Though I guess if the situation was reversed and it was Jadzia saying it, I'd just take it as good natured teasing...

"What I want is Worf." "Why?!" "Because he has the courage of a beserker cat and he has the heart of a poet." "And the brain of a pigheaded idiot." "Yeah, sometimes." She says that last sometimes so fondly though... maybe if she loves him that bad she does jut need to put more effort in... (Also loving 'beserker cat' rather than simply 'beserker' or 'beserker warrior' XD)

"Maybe we have forgotten how to deal with adversity." Maybe the point of having a civilization where adversity is rare is making the most of happiness? And maybe those who do face adversity - like the Starfleet staff - deserve a fucking vacation? Most people on Risa are on holiday - they have jobs and other life stresses, even in automated space communism utopia. I think Fullerton is probably the one who needs a little experience of *true* adversity. -_-

Last time Worf's story made me go "booo, a little not of tragedy doesn't mean you're allowed to be a massive misogynist." But actually, Jadzia is right, it does explain a lot. And I do give most of the other characters some slack in the misogyny area given they were written in the 90s...

"Or at least get out of this room." "... Very well." Fullerton actually sounds disappointed to be asked to leave the room that's about to collapse. Oh god, he wants to be a martyr, doesn't he? 🙃

"I will do as I please." *throws him across the room* FRICKING IMPULSE RESTRAINT WHAT, WORF?

"I am on holiday." I'm glad that amused you, Jadzia, but what?!

"I better go find Bashir. He brought a horga'hn down to breakfast and that's the last I saw of him." Quark looking out for Julian is not something I realised was a thing? But that definitely sounded a little like concern. (Unless it's a hope he can join in, I guess... 😅) (Was not expecting to get on the Quark/Julian train either but if there was a time when it was going to happen...)

Huh, the worst thing this time was actually not Worf, but Julian and Quark objectifying Jadzia... and at least on Julian's part, I think it was in jest, given I don't think she was being her best self at that time?

Alright, well - for all that people hate that episode, which had included me… I enjoyed that, genuinely! Surprises never cease...

[ranposgirlboss]

~HCS FROM MY BOOK!!-PART ONE~

THIS IS MULTIFANDOM!! also most of these are either slander or made for being a silly joke <333 so please don't take this seriously

fandoms: genshin impact, bungou stray dogs, and honkai impact

genre: fluff, slander, and sillies (it progressively gets less and less serious)

enjoy my shitty hcs from like a year ago <333 (they are actually older lol) ALSO ARE EXTREMELY SHORT SINCE IM LITERALLY JUST TAKING WHAT I WROTE WITHOUT CHANGING IT AND PUTTING IT OVER ON HERE LMAOASBHJAS (there's only so much space on paper </3)

chara list!!: albedo, kazuha, xiao, diluc, heizou, fu hua (sentience), scaramouche, aponia, dazai, ranpo, poe, ANDDD nikolai!!

FIRST TIME HOLDING HANDS!!

ALBEDO

-"its all for an experiment" he says

-lil bitch ok sure

-probably gonna study what this feeling is when he holds your hand and "why he feels so warm on the inside"

-acts like he doesnt care that much but bros probably gonna draw yall holding hands like a 13 year old drawing in her diary 💀

KAZUHA

-i love him but

-probably would make a poem about how your hand feels 😭

-he would be so cute tho ngl

-i mean just as always but also like

-please hold his hand he just loves you so much and along with words of affirmation physical contact seems to be his thing

-UGH MARRY ME

XIAO

-"wow y/n when you hold my hand the voices cease their calls for me to go to taco bell, thank you y/n."

-TAKE ME HIGHH AND ILL SINGGGG YOU MAKE EVERYTHING OKAY OHKAY OHKAY OHKAY (if you know that song here's your free kiss <33)

-and then you get married the end

-W H Y D I D I W R I T E T H I S B Y E -

DILUC

-could give less of a shit

-but for the sake of being a gentleman he says thank you and then continues bat manning sillily.

HEIZOU

-"y/n holding hands is cool but i think we should start an investigation of how fast we could make it to my place ;)"

-KILL YOURSELF. (please dont lead the way my silly detective <33)

-this gif makes me want to impulsively eat vanilla cake.

FU HUA

-YAAAATTAAAAA

-*holds hand* look at the beautiful sight ahead of us Y/N! no i did not make that fire-"

-fu hua arsonist era

APONIA

-MOMMY bjnEBHEKHBWJSK

-"y/n holding hands is great but why don't we open our arms and eyes to god"

DAZAI

-I APOLOGIZE TO ALL MY BSD READERS WHO HAVE TO SCROLL THIS FAR JUST TO GET THIS SILLy

-"i can always hold more then your hand~"

-a flirty bitch, but yall got chuuya knocking on your door asking you to "control your dog"

-ironic how chuuya is the one who says that

RANPO

-UGH I LOVE MY SKRUNKLE DOODLE PUSH POP SILLY SKRUNKLY CRUNKLY MUMPLY SILLY (yes i wrote that WORD. FOR. WORD.)

-will hold your hand for payments

-affection?? candy??? candys nuts fit in your mouth because they sure are about to <33 (i want to erase what i write sometimes)

-gets so happy omg

-not only does he have candy, you, but NOW he gets to hold your hand too>!1/!?!?

-wow he might as well steal from a candy store at this point

-might as well

-he swears it was an accident

POE

-poe held your hand with such sweetness, care, tenderness, love, and affection

-karl pulls up in his Mazarati, ready to throw hands once and for all, how DARE someone get more attention then karl

-poe has some explaining to do

-(i wonder how high i was when i wrote these)

-(i think i was 5'5)

NIKOLAI ( I FUCKING LOVE THIS ONE)

-so you go to hold his hand in y/n fashion

-suddenly you almost get hit by a bus

-"shit my bad wrong item"

-you stare in utter confusion at the bus as it suddenly vanishes like a fucking mob from minecraft or some shit

-nikolai god arc confirmed real

-so anyways you suddenly feel warmth on your hand on you see another fucking hand gripping yours but its literally just the hand detached from the body

-you are extremely scared and concerned why there's another hand gripping yours out of nowhere but with nikolai anything is possible so you just accept it and hold his hand back

-he giggles and nikolais away with the hand still holding yours

-(I ASKED HOW HIGH I WAS WHEN I WROTE THE LAST ONE BUT WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING HERE.)

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

the voices

ALOS THNAK YOU FOR READING THIS PIECE OF SHIT IM SORRY. SHE WAS ME FROM A YEAR AGO I DONT KNOW HER 😭

alos my reqs are always open

I ALSO APOLOGIZE FOR THE TAGS

[ifeelhuman]

and that was episode 5 of arcane. my goodness. let’s just get right to it.

pt. 1

Grayson !! she’s dead but we got to see more of her—and she was something of a mentor for Caitlyn :’). that almost definitely contributed to the more level-headed approach and state of mind that Caitlyn seems to have in her foundations. she has yet to falter. however, as is the nature of storytelling, a character that is not broken will eventually crack… and i’m saddened for when that time will come for Caitlyn. after what happened with Grayson Cait’s the only one in the ensemble to look at this evenly without impulse of prior bias (so far). interesting duality is Caitlyn being an enforcer had Powder/Jinx being, well, herself but both being really good shots. wonder if a shoot out between the two is to be expected at some point (?).

we knew Caitlyn was going to get Vi out of prison but full-on release? i realize Cait is on her own at this point (Vi doesn’t know that [yet]) but i thought perhaps a provisional release or furlough would’ve been the way to go—Cait even says there’s no record of her arrest so she has nothing to assess Vi and her capabilities beyond the assault she did to another inmate. perhaps that was enough for her (and this shows some of Cait’s naïveté [?])?

i should’ve expected Marcus 🙄 to be working with Silco still, even years later. but damn, he’s got a kid now and is a single father (implied by the drawn picture presumably by his daughter where it shows him, the girl, and another parental figure up in the clouds) but didn’t have the nerve or foresight to know to end their deal when he knew he was going to be a parents. Marcus is not likely to have a happy ending in this show and i worry for his daughter. that scene, of Marcus and Silco (second one in this episode) where Silco provides “evidence” of the Firelights involvement—i really for a second thought that Marcus k*lled himself there and found it believable (perhaps that was the intent. that Marcus is so deep in this that even the act of blowing himself up is barely away from reality i.e. had to force himself *not* to do such a thing).

Jayce… at his core is such a good guy. such a good person but Mel and her desire to control the workings of Piltover thru the council I mean!!—thinly veiled !! she even said herself that her family is used to taking things and this (and her subsequent consummation with Jayce) just reinforces that this is quite true for her still. what her ultimate goal is, i don’t know. i have noticed that her costuming has changed slightly; the white coloration in her outfit had during black or a deep, deep grey now with the same gold accents. perhaps a symbol of her grey(ing) morality. morality and her tryst with Jayce in mind—feels quite inappropriate. for a number of reasons but mostly the fact that he JUST called her a teacher, the detail that she looks nearly identical to her appearance before the time jump, and how quickly she seduced him just after his accession to the council—it’s all too suspicious and there’s no way this ends well.

back to Jayce. he is doing what he can to safeguard all of HexTech and be a good councilor. a leader. but he’s getting pushback (Marcus 🙄 and Mel mainly) the moment he’s doing the right things (looking into suspicious shipments, miscalculations, corruption, etc.) and his sleeping with Mel is unfortunately probably the start to his fall from grace. hell, the scene was even matched with Viktor pushing himself near to death. which !! if Jayce wasn’t elevated to the role of councilor he would’ve been by Viktor’s side !! ugh.

and Viktor. not much to say except that he has not looked good or healthy since the time skip. coughing up blood, his cane now crutches, and becoming more alone due to Jayce’s new role. he is likely to do something drastic to be recognized if he still feels the same way (and stronger) he did before HexTech—about being a real scientist taken seriously for his work. *his*, not Jayce’s. wonder how that may manifest.

[merrinpippy]

thoughts on malevolent "the king" that i wrote down while listening to it on my commute

arthur is so gullible lmao "faroe might be here because of this music box even though I KNOW many entities have already and will try again to use her to trick me" hon cmon

rip arthur lester you would have loved star trek deep space nine season 1 episode 1 and more specifically "no. it's not linear"

love this new freak. he called arthur "my love" therefore i am instantly on board with him. me too babe. wonder if by choices he means the out of universe patreon polls?? he makes references to things from different time periods and seems to have some control over the (out of universe?) sound effects soooo

also v curious as to what this thing is in arthur that supposedly makes him so special. i hadn't gotten the vibe before this that there was anything significant about arthur, i mean not in a chosen-one way

arthur is so certain that john will win between them- so all of his "this is MY body"s aren't actually egotism or selfishness but defensive lashing out in response to the powerlessness he feels because in arthur's pov, if push comes to shove, the body ISN'T his, it's john's

oh john's "NEVER" ugh so good. i love devotion

poor lily. poor john.

ARTHUR ADMITS TO LOVING JOHN????? WHAT i'm only 20 eps in how much gayer can they get?? (i know i'm wearing shipping goggles but i am capable of seeing this without them too- it's a really interesting character moment for arthur to admit this. i'll need to come back to it later)

arthur's 'yah's are so good btw

aw John being protective of arthurrrr i love it when arthur and john are separate and clawing to get back to each other

it's interesting that arthur is heartwrenchingly truthful to both kayne (yes i did look up this spelling) and the king in this episode, despite intimate knowledge of how those truths can be twisted against him. it's also interesting that these are not truths he's spoken to john first, actually they're the opposites of vitriol he's sent johns way previously.

it's a pattern of behaviour that arthur will feel helpless against a particular truth and then posture viciously in the opposite direction, whether that be in what he says to john or what he chooses to do, where he chooses to go, etc- like going to the city, smashing the bottle that 'frank' wanted him to drink and so on

really love the conversation with the king and how arthur acknowledges his and john's monstrous acts and yet chooses to believe in them anyway. malevolent's thesis statement right there. i'm getting the vibe of it may have all been for nothing but our choices mattered because we made them.

finally the arthur self throat slitting i'd been spoiled for! even having been spoiled for it, it's a fantastic moment, and i actually disagree with the person who mentioned it in the tags of my previous post- they seemed to interpret it as a suicidal impulse of arthur's but i think arthur has proven repeatedly that he isn't suicidal, or at least if he is he's fighting that urge tooth and nail.

actually arthur has been so desperate to live this whole time, clinging to life at every step even just in order to spite the king. meanwhile john wants so desperately to change and not be like the king, to be his own person with free will- you could argue this is his chief want- yet they both throw these things away instantly when the other is in true peril.

deeply fucked up to separate the pair. extremely excited to see where the hell this goes.

[nightmarearian]

helloo i just stumbled acress your blog and if you dont mind id like to ask-

FELLOW GENSHIN LORE FAN????

if yes then what are your thoughts on the next dain archon quest-

feel free to ignore/not answer btw, no pressure ^^

FUKC YEAH LOORREEE

I’m more into Khaenri’ah/Abyss lore, than anything else tho, if i’mma be honest lol.

I’m absolutely interested in lore and stories and general though to be honest I think my attention span and sleep deprivation doesn’t allow me to make up anything to big from scratch

Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

But I’d love to bounce of others if it weren’t for my social anxiety so please I’d be absolutely interested in anything with this

I’m really late to answering this shit to where people have already posted the cutscenes of Caribert onto yt, which I watched because impulse control is a myth and I’m quest locked so-

If you haven’t seen it yet then by all means ignore the rest of my rambling;

So Kaeya is specifically the descendant of the founder of the Abyss Order, Chlothar Alberich. Kae outwardly says he has no idea of the origin, with how openly he handles his last name, but he also says it ties up some questions he’s had.

Of course, quote Diluc, “you can only trust half of what he says at best,” so of course taking that with a grain of salt:

At ‘worst’ that means Kae always fuckin knew/This is just the final confirmation about it, and he knows a lot more about the Abyss Order. (Also funfact: one of his first, base lines, like the ones you have access to w/ friendship lvl 1, have something asking “Is the Abyss Order bothering you?” Not to mention there’s an anecdote on “You’re scars of the dark? That’s… interesting.” Oh, and that first archon quest in the domains and stuff; Where Kaeya recognizes hilichurl aren’t this smart and looks like he’s about to talk with a Abyss Mage before adult barges in. And the. “Let’s just say I was blessed with certain… linguistic powers.” Shit, foreshadowing goes deep.)

At best: He had just a bit of knowledge about it, and confirmation opens a lot up for him.

I do doubt he’d actually turn to the Abyss Order, cause Hoyo making him essentially a villain/major (enough) antag would be… uh, unlikely to say the least. I can see some spying on the Abyss Order and double crossing them though, that fits with Kae.

And at the same time, Caribert is apparently Chlothar’s son, right? He’s obviously affected by the curse, being the hilichurl. And so if we’re going with the “Kaeya is from straight up alive Khaenri’ah, not just the ruins” that either means through shenanigans Caribert turned into Kae or Kae has a sibling.

However, Kaeya is called a descendant of Chlothar, so that’s a separation of time; But then that also brings up the question of how Kaeya knows of Khaenri’ah? His Story says things/describes Khaenri’ah in things in general that paints it as if he actually lived there.

Did he live in ruins? Then I doubt he’d have as much knowledge about Khaenri’ah as he could very well likely have (and not tell us, obviously, the little liar [affectionate]). Not to mention the paper he stole when his father showed him about “what being an Alberich” is about and stuff; embers blah blah; that doesn’t sound like ruins…? Ugh. He has a stupid amount of 4-pointed stars on his design too; There is no way he doesn’t know at least a good amount about Khaenri’ah.

Following the Caribert -> Kaeya thing;

Chlothar did fuck around with the Abyss sibling (I play Aether so I’m gonna say Lumine) to try and find a way to help Caribert with the curse and stuff. Hell, after we dig up the bodies when Dain wakes us up, Dain questions if Chlothar found a way to stop the curse or something. So perhaps Chlothar did “cure” (to some level, otherwise they wouldn’t need to do the Loom of Fate shit) of some sorts that returned Caribert?

And then due to Abyssal time shenanigans (it’s already proven to fuck with time, look at Ajax/Childe) memories got fucked and Chlothar decided it’d be best to leave Kaeya in Mond, whether as a spy or for a better life? Kaeya does still have that eyes patch, after all. And it’s not implausible that there was a name change for ambiguity.

But at the same time, a ‘cure’ for the curse would be questionable - why hasn’t it been mass produced/practiced by now then? - not to mention I don’t think Kaeya would only get away from all that with just an eyepatch covering his face. And again, Kaeya was described as a “descendant” of Chlothar, and it’s referred to as an “ancestor/ancestry” specifically, so for the time thing it’s unlikely.

Not to mention, Chlothar also has a bigger star, closer to Dain than Kaeya’s. As Kae put it “pure-blood Khaenri’ahn”.

So yeah, Kaeya is probably just more of a descendant, if his appearance contradicting the description of a Khaenri’ahn has to say anything (“Light hair, fair skin, star-pupil” Kae is one of the 3 playable characters that has a darker skin tone, he has dark blue hair, and his star pupil is small than compared to Dain or Halfdan. …Though Chlothar has black hair. Huh).

But bring up the fact that he describes Khaenri’ah like he’s lived there and the. That brings up and entire other question/argument. Then what was Kaeya’s father, Chlothar or not, doing? Was he part of the Abyss Order? Or was it just something purely Khaenri’ahn? How is he not affected by the curse; was it the fact that he’s only part Khaenri’ahn?

So much questions so little information. This is the reason I love and hate lore aaaaaaa-

Okokok

Caribert & Kae are siblings? - Again the “descendant” and “ancestry” thing, and he is suspiciously absent if they are siblings. (Huh, the abyss/Khaenri’ah is having the small theme of siblings/siblings in arms. Aether & Lumine; Dain & Halfdan as brothers in arms; hell, in the more abyss based - Childe, you know with Teucer and shit, and then Kaeya, with Caribert or Diluc.

Of course I’m in love with the head cannon that Kae is from when Khaenri’ah was actually alive lmao :,)

And that’s only Kaeya, granted he is my favorite.

Now, the travelers. (Again, Aether as traveler, Lumi as Abyssal sibling)

Right. So we see Lumine’s memories of her time traveling with Dain, in which she meets Chlothar Alberich, who she sorta-helps with his son, Caribert. Then, once she wakes up, Chlothar goes on for a bit about the abyss being the answer to the curse or something, etc.

Assumedly, this would be where Chlothar founded the Abyss Order? At least, this is the main inviting event that leads to the Abyss Order.

I think, if I’ve read this correctly, Lumine is still traveling with Dain, so it’s not like she actively helps and joins with Chlothar. If what we say as the traveler in Lumine’s memories actually did happen, she probably joins the Abyss later; Alberich, maybe partly the fact that she’s princess of Khaenri’ah and was also incredibly helpful to the creation of the abyss order, gives her the title of Princess in the Abyss Order.

Did something happen during the travel that caused her to join the Order? Or was it just the fact of mulling it over for fuck knows how long and then splitting with Dain that got her to join?

Also, if the Alberich clan took over after the fall of King Irmin, then how do Lumine and Aether go into this? Are the the kids of King Irmin? We’re they too young to rule or something; then how was Lumine old enough to see the fall of Khaenri’ah? By then wouldn’t there be enough time for at least one for the sibling to rule? Then how come there’s no mention of it?

Hell there’s even the question of just how Aether could share memories with Lumine. Technically, nothing happened there that would indicate that there’s be like.. something to fuck around with for memories. By all means it’s just a place. Did another event happen here? Was the curse from Caribert just that strong/not as specific? Am I just looking a bit too into this part because let’s be honest they probably just need to drop this lore somehow?

Also, when Chlothar is talking to Caribert on the ledge, he says something along the lines of “remember this is a new place”

Essentially: This is new from what we know, it weird. (Come back here, please)

That either means something was fucky with Sumeru making it fantastical or they just left Khaenri’ah, which is more likely.

Then how long has Dain & Lumine been travling? The ruins of Khaenri’ah are said to be underground around Sumeru, curtesy of Kaeya*.

(*Wait, for the small story Kaeya tells, he say he want to go to Sumeru to learn more of his origins - again, grain of salt for the pathological liar - but that overall implies that he’s never been to the ruins of Khaenri’ah. Of course he could just be lying and as a child he just want to go home, even if said home we’re ruins, but still.)

How recent was the destruction of Khaenri’ah, then? Cause Dain & Lumine are both treating it as if it’s been long - Chlothar says something like “your alias” which implies that Lumine has been using the name “Traveler” during her travels with Dain long enough for it to just become.. well, her deficit alias.

And if Lumine was the Princess of Khaenri’ah, why would she give Chlothar an alias? He clearly has big fuckin stars for his pupils; If the destruction of Khaenri’ah was that recent, why would she be so guarded? Was Alberich suspicious during the reign of Khaenri’ah? But the Alberich clan took over in Irmin’s stead, meaning they were trustworthy and powerful enough to keep an entire kingdom together.

Just how long as is then since Khaenri’ah’s destruction, then? If it’s been long enough to where being weary of another Khaenri’ah is just “expected”, then there’s no reason for Chlothar to remind Caribert about our go Khaenri’ah.

If it hasn’t been to long, then why has Lumine not revealed herself, relieved at the survival and… not-hilichurl-indication of her people? And why do Dain & Lumine treat/talk about their travel, even just in Sumeru, as if it had went on for an long time?

Aaaaaaa-

I’d continue but’s it’s 2 am on a school night (morning) and I have an “out-of-sight, out-of-mind” brain so just. Take this. GN and thanks for asking! :D

[weabooweedwitch]

I say this as someone who's followed you for years and with as much kindness as possible:

Get the fuck away from your mother. Ditch her fuckin ass. She's repeatedly making things worse and refuses to learn. You need to get away from her, for your own good.

I know I might be repeating what other people have said, or even what you have thought of doing, but holy shit this bitch is actively ruining your life through sheer stupidity.

I hope things get better

I feel bad that people have to keep giving me this kind of advice because I realize it's the most obvious answer, and there are multiple reasons separating from my mother would be good for us both. I feel bad that i keep sharing all these worrying stories and worrying people and then at the end of the day, I'm way too scared to actually try and fix things. I just worry so much about not being able to take care of myself, not being able to drive, what if I go somewhere and it's harder if not impossible for me to get to work, just. I worry about everything. Honestly the thing that worries me the most is keeping my job or not being able to transfer if I went somewhere else. My wage is currently $19 an hour, my 58 yo mom was making $22, so like, I'm helping hold it all together with rent BECAUSE of that income. I'm so scared of losing that.

I've had people ask if there's any family I can go to and the only possible option would be maybe my father who is in another state, I cannot remember if it is in Illinois or Missouri (ugh, they may have passed recreational weed but thats the only good thing thats came outta thar state in like the last 2 decades). And I don't know if that would be good either. But it's an option I'm beginning to consider. But I am sort of still in the reconnecting process with my dad and we've butted heads a few times and he also has his own physical and emotional issues. Actually I think he is where I inherited a lot of mental illness from because he also has an anxiety disorder and we are almost positive he has equinus like me. He also has developed type 2 diabetes and I am really bad with sugar impulse control, what if I hurt my dad because I can't stop bringing sweets into the house and he eats them too 🥺

It just. Personally makes me hate myself to even think of "hiya pops, we've barely spoken in the last 10 years, I've been really ahitty about talking to you consistently since we've said hi again and lost my temper with you a few times, hey I know you're on a fixed income and out of a job right now (or was, maybe he has one now, we've spoken so little idk) but is it OK if I come live in your house as a whiny codependent barely functioning weed addict of an adult?" 😅

But yeah I just. This is really. It just never ends. I keep fighting myself and beating myself up on "who's right, am I right, am I wrong, am I overreacting, whats going on, what do I do, someone tell me what to do because I'm too stupid to do things right" and it's just. I also still love my mother even if that love is being increasingly mixed with resentment. I worry about her ability to take care of herself because her health is getting worse and, like, I worry about her mentally a lot. Like this tooth infection she has, is because she doesn't have the best dental hygiene, and had fillings and such, and even after needing fillings still takes shit care of her teeth, and was putting off getting like broken teeth and such taken care of, and, they're now having to pull SEVEN of her back teeth. She'll need dentures to eat certain foods now. And I'm not better, I basically stopped brushing my teeth for many years because I literally expected to be dead before they rotted out of my mouth and now I'm scrambling to adopt that routine again, and also like.

Sorry but my mom and a dentist literally lied to me when i was a little girl and said i had several cavities because they thought i would be scared into brushing my teeth and all that did was convince me everything was pointless and needed to give up since it was already damaged, and she refuses to apologize or even acknowledge how that literally helped me develop a complex and felt helpless when SHE LIED TO ME, A CHILD, HER CHILD (and also i think my difficulty keeping routines is a combination just needing to apply myself and having adhd issue because like, I've been pretty good with my skincare at least)

I just. I love her but I hate her. If I'm not careful to keep myself calm I'm going to escalate to the physical level. And to be honest I've had the opinion for many years that, all those times my mom told extremely age inappropriate stories to little tiny baby Miranda about her experiences with assault and domestic violence, even as a kid I would think, "well you like don't listen, you shut people down, you insist youre always right, I want to hit you all the time too, maybe it wasn't them but maybe you got yourself hit by constantly pushing everyone around you to their breaking point" like clearly that's not a healthy thought to have and I. I am kind of convinced at this point that almost every single bad thing that had ever happened to this woman was her own fault in some way shape or form. But you could also say that about me

What's scary is that I can't even think of going anywhere without having savings first and I'm constantly being pushed to my limits to the point I don't HAVE any savings, it's all getting sucked up. I dunno how else I can get out of this pit and I'm just, mentally worn down from any entire life of this. I feel useless and exploited at home and then I go to work and feel useless and exploited at work and by society. Like. Life feels so bleak. My Canadian friend is getting in worse health. I still have a lot of affection for him but he's also uh done and said a few things I really disagree with on personal levels and it, gives me some pause, like. I genuinely am so sad all the time. I need to go back to the psychiatrist to get some medicines again but, I am working and making enough money that after my state insurance expires in October, I'll have to go through my work, and that doesn't 100% cover everything so, j wouldn't be able to afford anything at that point

Just. Ugh. I try to write down my thoughts and listen to music and try to write on my other blog to cheer myself up but I just. What can you do right. What am I good for. What is anyone good for. What is this world itself good for. Our entire species is gonna go extinct with climate change anyways. Why should I keep struggling and suffering like this when it's. Idk. Arguably all for nothing. We'll all be nothing more than just dogs following commands and paying bills until we die

[leona-hawthorne]

okay i have been waiting for this on the edge of my seat and i'm so fucking grateful that i finally got to sit down and read it (alone, of course, because my reactions were quite literally animalistic)

let me also add that the warnings themselves had me fucking moaning—alright now let's get into this!!

zoya, your writing truly has me in complete awe. "english is not my first language" okay and it appears that that literally does not matter at all because this??? this was a goddamn masterpiece.

(apologies in advance bc this is going to be an extremely long reblog)

He was insane. Truly insane. Almost unhinged. Mattheo Riddle was the definition of impulsive thoughts turned into reckless actions, actions that always led him to trouble. He was raw, magnetic, and dangerously unpredictable, the kind of person who attracted attention without even trying.

okay, but this right here??? the way you captured mattheo's essence so perfectly, i’m obsessed. like, he’s not just reckless—he’s raw and magnetic, and that’s such a powerful way to describe someone who’s constantly teetering on the edge of chaos. it’s like you reached into his chaotic little soul and pulled out the perfect words. it’s giving “force of nature,” and the way you wrote it feels so vivid and alive, like i can see him and feel the tension he carries everywhere he goes. your writing is so sharp and evocative, i can’t stop rereading this bit.

He didn’t just attract trouble; he craved it, needed it like it was the only thing keeping him seen.

the truth was different: he thrived on attention, bad or good, as if he needed it to keep himself whole.

my babyyy, he craves trouble like it’s the only way he can feel noticed. it’s like he’s reduced his own worth to just being seen and perceived by others, even if it means chaos. love how you captured that desperation in such a short line.

every corner seemed like an unsettling, cavernous form that resembled a muggle abandoned cathedral. It felt sacred in a weird twisted way, as if it were built to bear the weight of sinful actions that were too heavy to confess elsewhere.

how do you set the tone so well?!? the imagery is wildly vivid—i can almost feel the heaviness of the space, like it’s got its own dark history!!

The only thing he knew for sure was that you almost had him entirely.

And for him, that was awful enough.

oh this killed me—the tension between wanting something and being terrified of it. mattheo’s vulnerability here is chef's kiss, showing how much he's fighting against his feelings, even when he’s almost lost to them. such a perfect snapshot of their dynamic.

He never quite understood why his heart raced when he was in your presence, as if it might break through his ribs, his flesh, and fall directly into your palms, fully out of his power. At times he couldn't help but press his hand against his own chest, trying to stop it, trying to hold it back, but it only frustrated him further.

Nevertheless, there were times when he nearly wished his heart would simply give way and land in your hands so you could do with it whatever you pleased, whether that meant crushing it entirely or holding it tenderly between your fingers.

okay i am genuinely so in love with this whole part, i had to reread it like 3 times 😵‍💫 the internal conflict is so palpable—like, he’s torn between wanting to control something that’s clearly already beyond his grasp, but also secretly wishing to surrender to the one person who can break him. the image of him physically pressing down on his chest to stop it??? i am actually crying, zoya. ugh, and the fact that he doesn't care whether he'd be hurt or cared for—he just wants her, FUCK he is obsessed.

This ritual, this moment—it was his, only his. Yet, for some reason, he felt a twisted satisfaction knowing he was going to share it with you.

AHDHSFG his possessive ass actually enjoying sharing something??? aw he likes her 😚🤗

Mattheo let out a low, almost manic laugh as his gaze remained fixed on the blade in his hand.

the way he kept laughing like a fucking maniac throughout the entirety of this fic OMG i can almost hear it in my head, he's so fucking hot.

his grip tightening around your hand, not to soothe you, but to remind himself you were still there

I'M BLUSHING, idk if he's doing that solely because of the ritual but either way, the fact that he wants to reassure himself that she didn't go anywhere is making my heart squeeze in my chest 🥹

Mattheo chuckled dryly, releasing your hand to stop you from gripping it, from finding any comfort in his presence.

BITCH??!?! YOU ASSHOLE, hold my hand i'm scared ☹️

He was an insensitive prick, but dear god, he was a beautiful one. 

this is so true—HE'S FUCKING MEAN, but i genuinely have never seen a more angelic man 😭🪽

Shit, you’re not wearing a bra.

Mattheo swore the zipper on his pants was going to break any second.

alr here we go (i'm horny now)

Without a word he reached up and tugged his shirt over his head, casting it aside without care.

well shit, now we're both hard, mattheo!! 🤜💥🤛 (i am drooling at the thought of this rn)

Your bare chests were almost touching, the air thick with tension, your hard nipples brushing just slightly against his skin.

no, you actually don't understand—this is so intimate, i can just imagine the silence and the only sound being their heavy ass breathing, its so 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 also i think i would lose my mind if my nips were like JUST BARELY brushing against him, what a tease

With a deep breath, you pressed the blade to your palm, hissing softly as the edge cut into your skin, making you feel even more bare and open than you already did.

idk if you've seen stranger things but this is making me think of when nancy and jonathan did the same exact thing and cut their palms. that scene and the matching scars and just them in general is so dear to me, so this is making me feel so many things rn

Without warning, his lips pressed against the spot, his tongue tracing the blood.

“It’s so sweet,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the skin of your neck, the crimson of your blood staining them as he pulled you closer, pressing you against him in a way that felt almost inhuman. “So fucking sweet.”

okay mr vampire!! (this is so fucking hot i am literally struggling to function rn and i am lucky i didn't read this during ovulation 🙂‍↕️)

Mattheo chuckled in satisfaction, bringing his bloodied hand to your stomach, the crimson spreading across your exposed skin like a mark. “You like it, don’t you?”

MY JAW DROPPED PLEASE OH MY GOD, HIM SPREADING THE COLD BLOOD ON HER STOMACH?? I CAN IMAGINE MYSELF JERKING AWAY OMF YES DADDY I LOVE IT

Mattheo chuckled again against your throat, his teeth sinking into the spot once more, making you moan. He mimicked the sound...

i'm being so serious, this part will live on in my brain forever. him MIMICKING/MOCKING HER MOAN??? HE'S SO MEAN AND COCKY HOLY FUCK THAT WAS SO HOT

he guided your hand to your neck, then down to your breasts, trailing the blood like a map. Before you could react to the sting of your hard nipple pressing against the cut, Mattheo moved faster, pulling your nipple—now smeared with your own blood—into his mouth. 

spreading her own blood all over her body just so he can lick it off, oml can you spread my legs open next, mattheo? 😇 (jk, they're already spread)

The way his hands pushed your now bloody breasts together enough for his head to dive between them as he continued to whisper praises, words of hunger.

“Your tits…”Mattheo moaned even louder, dragging a moan from your lips in response. Fuck, he was so close.

first, AJDGHFDJHDRFGJHAFGHJSRGFJHSRF him pressing her tits together just to SHOVE HIS FACE IN BETWEEN oh he's so down bad 🤭 also the "your tits..." BOY. he was so cocky and degrading before—now he's all pathetic and obsessing over her tits? ah, just what I love to see 😮‍💨

“Open your mouth,” he commanded, an order you immediately understood. You obeyed without hesitation, and before you could react, he spat into your mouth and thrust his tongue inside, kissing you deeply.

yes sir please spit in my mouth (he's so nasty and disgusting and i fucking love him for it)

You could feel Mattheo’s cheeks pressed against your thighs as he buried himself in your pussy, suffocating himself in your scent and taste. He mentally begged some higher power to let him one day die like this...

YES PLEASE LET ME SUFFOCATE YOU BETWEEN MY LEGS MATTY PLS 🙏 "let him one day die like this" he is so obsessed god i love this so much

“Such a pretty one you are,” he muttered, his words slurring into the juices of your cunt.

THE WAY HE CAN'T TEAR HIS FACE AWAY EVEN JUST FOR A MOMENT TO SPEAK AJDGSGDFHSDFG i would actually be dying at all the praise

clearly, i got a little carried away with this reblog (this is literally the longest reblog i’ve ever made 🧍🏻‍♀️), but what can i say? this was 6.3k words of art and i had to include all my favorite parts 🤷‍♀️🙂‍↕️

love you zoya!!!! 🫂🤍

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍

mattheo riddle x fem reader

SUMMARY. in which mattheo seeks power and needs your help to perform a blood ritual. WORDS. +6.3K. english is not my first language.

WARNINGS. smut, mdni, porn w//plot, mean mattheo, aged up characters, friends to fuck buddies, blood play, blood kink, cuts, spitting, nipple sucking, oral sex f!receiving, pussy drunk mattheo, handjob, dirty talk, biting, marking.

navigation -> masterlist

He was insane. Truly insane. Almost unhinged. Mattheo Riddle was the definition of impulsive thoughts turned into reckless actions, actions that always led him to trouble. He was raw, magnetic, and dangerously unpredictable, the kind of person who attracted attention without even trying. Every move he made, every word he spoke, every breath he took was saturated with confidence and superiority.

He didn’t just attract trouble; he craved it, needed it like it was the only thing keeping him seen.

Mattheo was like a storm no one could outrun, an enigma without resolution, and that was exactly what made him so intoxicating. There was something in his presence that pulled people toward him, whether in admiration or fear, and no one could quite decide if it was for better or worse. He wasn’t just hard to ignore; he was impossible to overlook. He demanded attention simply by existing, and it was maddening, the way he could dominate a room with nothing more than a simple glance.

It could have been for a lot of reasons. Maybe it was the way he acted like he didn’t have a care in the world, the sharp, biting comments he always seemed to have ready, words that stuck like blood on stone.Or maybe it was the fights, the way he seemed to throw himself into them too often, always coming out with the same satisfied expression. After all, he was the only son of the Dark Lord, and that alone was enough to draw all kinds of attention.

Whatever was the reason, chaos seemed to follow him everywhere, like he thrived on it. Perhaps he didn’t care at all. No outsider really knew, and no one ever tried to figure him out. Nobody had the courage to do so.

Either way, there were always whispers about him, cruel rumors about his personality and massive ego, some saying he was just like his father, or maybe even a darker version of him, while others came from students eager to get close in obscene ways, hoping to spend a night with their bodies tangled in his. 

Yet Mattheo didn’t show that he cared, always pretending to be focused on his own goals, moving through the chaos unshaken and unbothered, though deep down, the truth was different: he thrived on attention, bad or good, as if he needed it to keep himself whole.

But you had seen enough to know the truth. He was cruel, ruthless, and everything people whispered about him, perhaps even worse. And yet, here you were, trapped in his chaos, each moment with him drawing you deeper into the darkness.

You were trapped. Absolutely trapped.

Perhaps it was in the way he looked at you, his deep brown eyes burning with an intensity that stole your breath away, leaving you struggling to keep your heart from racing, as if he saw something inside of you that you weren’t capable of seeing. Or maybe it was the way his words stayed in your mind long after they were spoken, carving their way into your thoughts like a knife you didn’t want to pull out, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were already in too deep.

If you thought about it more, you didn’t know what had brought you here. The main factor to why you were so attracted to an ongoing fire.

Could be the adrenaline from his strange proposal, or the way you couldn’t stop thinking about him, his presence always glued to your mind. Could also be the need to be near him, the way your body moved toward his as if it had no will of its own, or perhaps it was the way he seemed to control your heart in a way you couldn’t even understand. It was twisted, even a little scary, but neither of you cared.

After all, you were friends.

You didn’t know when it stopped feeling like curiosity—just a lingering thought— but the doubt never really went away. Instead it became prominent, tight in your chest whenever he was around. There was something darker about him, something dangerous in the way he lived recklessly, only focused on his own desires, how he thrived on the attention he got, pulling you deeper without even trying.

And now, standing there, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever came next, there was no turning back. No escape.

The Room of Requirement was cloaked in dark shadows, the silence broken only by the faint hiss of flickering candles. Their soft, wavering light offered a fragile sense of comfort, though it did little to ease the tension hanging in the air. The atmosphere was thick and heavy, saturated with the acrid tang of burning incense and something darker, almost unspoken.

Torchlight flickered across the cold stone walls, making jagged patterns that twisted and stretched with each almost shiny flicker. That night, the requirement room felt weird, unlike the form other students seemed to used—every corner seemed like an unsettling, cavernous form that resembled a muggle abandoned cathedral. It felt sacred in a weird twisted way, as if it were built to bear the weight of sinful actions that were too heavy to confess elsewhere.

The faint metallic scent in the air lingered, sharp and heavy, mixed with something even more heavy, felt almost like a warning. On the stone floor, crude runes spiraled out in precise, jagged lines, their edges glowing faintly as though alive and energetic, pulsing in time with the biting silence as if they were watching, waiting to know what was about to take place.

In the center of it all stood Mattheo Riddle, the one person who seemed to take up every space in your mind, his dark robes draping loosely over his strong frame, giving him an effortless air of power, his features, defined and almost angelic, partially hidden by his messy curls that always fell into his pretty eyes.

The flickering torchlight danced off his hair with every movement, making it seem almost alive; there was something strange about how his appearance seemed almost angelic, yet you knew Mattheo’s true personality, making him all the more dangerous, like a trap just waiting for you to step in.

He could look still, even controlled, but there was nothing controlled about this. Nothing about him was controlled.

Mattheo looked at the dagger in his hands, his gaze drifting over the blade, but it wasn’t the dagger that had his attention. It was you. Your eyes were on him, and it felt like he was being torn apart with just that look. It wasn’t like the attention he was used to—no fear or admiration in it.

No, this was different. It was more like an assessment. The weight of your gaze was almost suffocating, as if you were digging into him, getting under his skin in a way that made him feel stupidly exposed and making him feel a strange sensation tighten in his chest, choking his throat in ways he couldn’t understand, and he hated it.

He hated how you made him feel like this—torn between wanting to get closer and wanting to run away from that. And even if it was good or bad; neither mattered. He didn’t want to know. The only thing he knew for sure was that you almost had him entirely.

And for him, that was awful enough.

He never quite understood why his heart raced when he was in your presence, as if it might break through his ribs, his flesh, and fall directly into your palms, fully out of his power. At times he couldn't help but press his hand against his own chest, trying to stop it, trying to hold it back, but it only frustrated him further.

Nevertheless, there were times when he nearly wished his heart would simply give way and land in your hands so you could do with it whatever you pleased, whether that meant crushing it entirely or holding it tenderly between your fingers. He wasn't certain which would provide him with greater comfort, but he was certain that if you gave him that satisfaction, he will never be the same again.

Mattheo sighed and shook his head rapidly, making a dramatic gesture as he attempted to avoid your concentrated, evaluating stare on him once more. He concentrated on the tiny silver dagger in his hand, trying not to hold it too firmly in his palm, but nothing could take away the sensation, and even if it didn't cause him any discomfort, the pressure that made it was obvious.

He let out another sigh, this time frustrated, rubbing his forehead, but couldn’t help releasing another, this time a relieved one, when he saw your attention shift to the two circles drawn around him, almost like some kind of illustration, and he couldn’t help but smirk knowingly as he noticed the change in your expression; at the confusion in your eyes and at your furrowed brows as you tried to make sense of the strange symbols, carefully etched inside the circles on the floor.

Mattheo looked away, quickly shifting his focus to the symbol at his feet. In comparison with the other symbols, this one was far more complex, with each line and curve being meticulous and precise. As he raised his chin in satisfaction with what he did, Mattheo couldn't help but widen his smirk into a full grin, an equal amount of pride and arrogance coming across his expression.

This ritual, this moment—it was his, only his. Yet, for some reason, he felt a twisted satisfaction knowing he was going to share it with you. Even though you were there not completely voluntarily, you still had a place in it, whether you liked it or not. 

This time, it was Mattheo who looked at you with an intense, almost predatory gaze, his hand tightening once more around the blade in his palm as he kept his eyes on you. He was already preparing to take the first step toward the power he would gain from what you two were about to do. All he needed was your final confirmation and for you to step into the middle of the circle with him.

“Are you ready for this?” His voice broke the silence, low and almost a purr, making you look up at him. Ready? Fuck no. In fact, you were terrified. Every part of you screamed to run, to get as far away from this room and this stupid ritual as possible. But your body didn’t listen to your brain. Your heart didn’t either. Instead, you stayed still, frozen, your eyes locked with his own, already filled with amusement and something darker, like a challenge. 

You knew this was stupid. Hell, it was almost suicidal. A ritual to give him more power, cutting your own hand, spilling your blood, mixing it with his just to make him stronger. It was madness. More than that, even.

But then again, a part of you wanted it. A part of you wanted to leave a piece of yourself with him, to bind yourself to him in some twisted way. And for some fucked-up reason, you craved that. You wanted to be marked by him, to have a part of you inside him forever. Mattheo had already carved his mark into your mind, into the darkest corners of your heart, and now you wanted to do the same.

Stupid curiosity.

“Well?” Mattheo asked again, his voice dripping with amusement, though you could hear the faint edge of annoyance creeping in. He tried to hold onto his usual confident, relaxed demeanor, but it was slipping. “What’s it gonna be?” The same damn question. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to make him ask a third time. 

“I…” You paused, your voice cracking, and you couldn’t help but curse yourself under your breath as you felt his gaze digging into you, waiting for the answer he wanted. “I think I’m ready,” you finally said, taking a step forward, ignoring the part of you screaming to get the hell out of there. Yet your body moved faster than your mind, and before you knew it, you took an unconscious step closer to him, making his eyebrow quirk in amusement. 

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You think?” he repeated, his voice thick with mockery. He almost laughed; if it were not for the situation you two were in.

“Fuck—” you hissed under your breath, cursing yourself again, and Mattheo’s smirk stretched wider. “I’m ready.” You corrected yourself, the words tasting wrong. “I’m ready,” you said again, this time to convince yourself more than him.

Mattheo let out a low, almost manic laugh as his gaze remained fixed on the blade in his hand. The sound sent an unexpected shiver down your spine, and your cheeks flushed as his voice echoed in your ears. When he looked back at you, his eyes were softer than before, though the usual intensity remained, as if he was offering something that, despite not being comfort, somehow left you feeling relieved in a way.

He stretched his hand towards you, his voice calmer than before but still firm. “Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner this thing is going to end.” The sooner he would have control. Mattheo called you again, and you let out a soft sigh before taking that first step.

Each step you took was filled with hesitation, but your body didn’t seem to care. It moved toward the circle, fighting the doubt gnawing on your mind. When you finally stepped inside, you couldn’t hold back a small sigh as your hand found Mattheo’s. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, your cheeks flushing as you saw the same smirk on his lips, the reaction causing a tug on your heart. He didn’t need to say anything; you could feel how much he enjoyed this, how much he knew the effect he had on you.

Sometimes you wanted to punch him. 

As soon as you took his hand, Mattheo’s confidence wavered slightly; his heart pounded just by your touch. However, he couldn’t hide the dark amusement in his eyes as he watched your flushed cheeks and how your body betrayed you. It was too easy.

“This,” he said, gesturing to the intricate runes carved into the floor with the tip of his dagger, his grip tightening around your hand, not to soothe you, but to remind himself you were still there. “It’s going to hurt like hell.” He said it with such ease, as if the pain and the blood were just a minor part. You swallowed hard, the confirmation of what you already knew settling deep in your stomach. “At least for you,” he added with an eyebrow raised, his voice laced with amusement.

His words weren’t reassuring at all—not that you expected them to be. He didn’t care about calming you or making this easier to bear. That wasn’t his style, and it never had been. Mattheo thrived in chaos, in mess, and he wanted you to feel every bit of it. He wanted to pull you into the madness, to push you until you struggled to keep yourself together.

“You’re not exactly helping me calm down, you know?” you said through gritted teeth, barely stopping yourself from telling him to go fuck himself. 

Mattheo chuckled dryly, releasing your hand to stop you from gripping it, from finding any comfort in his presence. “Glad to know, sweetheart.” He said casually, like it didn’t matter at all. “But who said I want you to calm down?” he murmured, and you might have thought he was joking if it weren’t for the fact that you had known him for years.

You scoffed at his lack of sympathy. It wasn’t surprising, though; his attitude was one of the things that drew you to him, even if it wasn’t exactly healthy. You watched as he lit more candles, the flame dancing with every step he took, highlighting the sharp lines of his features. He was an insensitive prick, but dear god, he was a beautiful one. 

After a few seconds, Mattheo stood up, still holding the dagger in his hand. He glanced at you, and for a brief moment, something in his gaze made his heartbeat almost thud down his ribs. He took a few steps toward you, and your eyes met. His dark eyes were intense, unreadable, and the weight of the air between you made your stomach twist. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady, with a hint of mischief in his tone. The corner of his mouth twitched, the excitement creeping slowly.

“Take off your shirt.”

You blinked, shocked, and for a few seconds, all your fear vanished. “Excuse me?!”

Mattheo observed you, almost as if he were stripping you bare. “Your shirt,” he repeated, his tone annoyingly dismissive. He spun the dagger in his palm with flawless precision, taking a step closer as if your hesitancy pleased him. “Take it off,” he said almost coolly, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

You crossed your arms, feeling your heart race as your face flushed with heat. “And why, exactly, do I need to do that?” You snapped, your voice sharp. You had fantasized a thousand times about Mattheo asking you to do this, but you never imagined it would actually happen, especially not now, in this situation. 

“For the ritual,” he said simply, tilting his head and giving you a smirk that bordered on taunting, as though the answer should’ve been obvious. “I need access to your skin, sweetheart. The magic won’t work otherwise.” His words were smooth, but you couldn’t shake the feeling they held a hint of mockery.

You hesitated, studying him closely. There was something about his response that didn’t sit right, too casual in a way that felt almost taunting, like he wasn’t being completely honest. “You’re making that up,” you said flatly, letting your arms drop to your sides, your eyes narrowing as you searched on his face for a sign of truth. 

His smirk widened, and he continued to twirl the dagger between his fingers, his eyes locked on you. The sight of your flushed cheeks only seemed to make him think with his other head. “Am I?” He took another step closer. 

“Please, Mattheo, I know that’s bullshit!” you spat out, trying to ignore how his smug expression made your skin heat, though particularly of you couldn’t help but consider it.

Mattheo let out a low chuckle, stepping closer, the tension between you nearly unbearable. His voice dipped, rough and almost deliberate, as his dark eyes shamelessly trailed down your body before locking onto yours again.

“Alright,” he murmured, a smile laying wickedly on his lips. “Maybe it’s not entirely necessary. But it helps. A lot.”

The dagger moved lazily in his hand, the sharp edge skimming his palm without cutting his palm. His gaze never left you, steady and intense, like a predator watching its prey. “And we both know you want this to work out, don’t we, sweetheart?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, a truth you hated to admit even to yourself. You wanted him to notice you—really notice you—the way his gaze seemed to strip you bare, peeling back layers you didn’t even realize you had. But the sharp flare of anger clawed its way up your chest, tangling with the strange pull he always seemed to have over you, leaving you somewhere between furious and helpless.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, shaking your head, the disappointment cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. You weren’t sure if it was aimed at him or at yourself for falling into this moment—this trap. Probably both. 

“And yet,” he said, taking another step toward you, “here you are.” He mocked you, making you bite your tongue to stop yourself from telling him to fuck off. 

The space between you two was basically nonexistent now, and Mattheo fucking hated it. Hated that it was him moving closer, like he couldn’t help himself. Hated how his body had a mind of its own, reacting to you in ways that made him feel like an idiot. The thought of you, without your shirt, without anything, was driving him insane, his imagination running wild no matter how much he tried to shove it down.

Fuck. He could already feel the strain in his pants, his cock pressing uncomfortably against the fabric. It pissed him off—how easily you got under his skin, how fucking hard it was to keep his cool around you. 

“Fine,” you bit out, your voice rougher than you felt, and Mattheo’s smile twisted with satisfaction, practically waiting for you to do it. You exhaled sharply, trying to ignore the way his eyes were glued to you. Your fingers lingered at the hem of your shirt, heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find the guts to go through with it. 

Mattheo’s smirk only deepened, his eyes never leaving you, and for a moment, it felt like he was inside your head, reading you like a damn book. His gaze dropped low, just enough to make your skin prickle with awareness. You seemed so fucking soft. “Need help?” he asked, voice dripping with mockery. 

“Shut up, Mattheo” you snapped, yanking the fabric over your head in one swift motion, a shiver running through your whole body. Shit, you’re not wearing a bra.

The second the shirt left your body, the air felt heavier, but you felt the coldness against your exposed skin and nipples. Mattheo’s expression shifted, his smirk slipping for a moment as his eyes scanned over you, taking in more than you were prepared to show. You cursed yourself for not wearing a bra under the thin fabric, your chest bare under the dim torchlight and his searing gaze. Mattheo swore the zipper on his pants was going to break any second.

You couldn't help but feel trapped by his piercing stare as his eyes remained on you, shamelessly tracing your hard nipples. He seemed oblivious; nonetheless, his eyes burned with need as his mind wandered, thinking about the taste of his tongue on your nipples, sucking and biting until all you could think about was the feel of his wet tongue. He held the dagger tightly, only reacting when the blade cut into his flesh.

“Well,” he began, attempting to put the thoughts flowing through his head to the back of his mind, his voice rougher than before, “guess you were more ready than we thought.” He mocked you again, but it seemed like he was also mocking himself.

You could feel your cheeks burning, a mix of anger and something else boiling inside you. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to block him out, but the moment you saw the way Mattheo’s eyes were fixed on you filled with desire, your hands fell to your sides, betraying your own brain. You wanted this. You wanted him to see you, to really see you.

But as you realized you were staring at him in the same way, you quickly shook your head, trying to push down the desire and need, force some control back into your own voice. “Just get on with it,” you ‘snapped’, trying to hide how much it stung, how much you craved that attention. 

Mattheo’s smirk returned, but this time it was sharper, full with devilment. He took another step toward you, his eyes never leaving yours, and gestured toward the circle with a lazy flick of his hand. “As you wish.”

His expression didn’t shift, his confidence simmering just below the surface as he stepped even closer to you, trying not to look at your bare chest. His eyes flickered to the symbols on the ground, their faint glow reflecting in the depths of his gaze. Without a word he reached up and tugged his shirt over his head, casting it aside without care. He didn’t look at you but still waited for your reaction. You had already drawn one from him—only fair if he returned the favor, right?

You, on the other hand, swallowed hard, your gaze shamelessly tracing the lines of his abdomen and bare, muscular chest. The candles and torchlight cast sharp shadows across the scars etched into his skin, and you held your breath without meaning to. When he glanced forward slightly, his eyes still on the ground as he did so, he had to stifle a chuckle at the sight of your clenched fists, trying to control yourself.

This was going to be fun, at least.

For a brief moment, neither of you spoke or moved. The silence stretched thin, both of you consumed by the same thoughts, the same dirty images racing through your minds. Your chests rose and fell heavily, both of you struggling to regain a normal breath. It was fucking madness. 

Mattheo quickly composed himself, standing at the point of the small symbol on the ground, making sure you mirrored his position on the opposite side. Your bare chests were almost touching, the air thick with tension, your hard nipples brushing just slightly against his skin. He gave a low sigh, words slipping from his lips in a language you couldn’t understand, his voice deep and commanding.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the symbols on the floor pulsed to life, glowing with an eerie light, while the candle flames flickered wildly, as though responding to his words. 

He looked at the dagger in his hand, a proud glint in his eyes before letting his gaze drift up to your face. His eyes lingered on your features, the softness of your eyes, the way your lips parted just enough to drive him insane. He almost couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to touch you, but he stayed still, his jaw tight. “Are you ready?” he asked, his lips moving without sound. “I am,” you mouthed back, the hesitation in your eyes impossible to miss. But he ignored it, choosing to focus on the way you stood there—no turning back now, and honestly? He didn’t want you to cover up. 

Mattheo gripped the dagger with steady hands, his brown eyes flickering briefly to the runes as if making sure everything was aligned. Without a second thought, he pressed the sharp blade to his palm, slicing through the skin with quick, practiced precision. The blood surged from the cut, dripping thick and dark onto the glowing runes below. They reacted violently, flaring brighter, more alive, as if the blood was feeding the symbols, feeding him. 

You held your breath, knowing you were next. But you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the ground, watching his blood drip onto the floor beneath both of your feet.

After a few seconds, he lifted his chin, pride in his eyes, his curls moving like the magic around the circles. He grabbed your hand without a word, pressing the dagger into your palm, his gaze never leaving yours. He was waiting, daring you to cut yourself just like he had. 

You felt his blood drip onto your wrist, the warmth of it sending a jolt through your veins. As the dagger pressed into your palm, a breath caught in your throat. The weight of the blade was more than you expected, and for a moment, your eyes lingered on the crimson stains left by Mattheo’s cut, almost hypnotic, tempting you.

Your heart quickened, your pulse echoing in your ears. You hesitated—for a moment. His eyes found you once again, a look that urged you to continue. The hesitation lingering in your heart suddenly dispersed; you wanted nothing but to mark him as yours.

With a deep breath, you pressed the blade to your palm, hissing softly as the edge cut into your skin, making you feel even more bare and open than you already did. The pain was sharp, fleeting, quickly replaced by the blood spilling down your skin, as the runes reacted violently to your action, their glow flaring in response. 

It was instantaneous. The moment your blood touched the floor, the room seemed to exhale, the light flaring brighter and the air humming with a charged, almost electric energy as the ritual began. But the reaction was brief, for Mattheo’s focus shifted.

Mattheo’s gaze was fixed on the cut on your hand, his eyes wide and unblinking, as if he was mesmerized by the crimson blood streaks trailing down your wrist, mingling with his the drops of his blood already on your skin. His jaw clenched, and you swore you saw him swallow hard as he continued to look, his chest rising and falling with a depth of intensity you’d never seen in him before. 

“Mattheo?” You called softly, your voice barely above a whisper, your heartbeat quickening against your bare chest. Yet, it was enough to break his attention.

His eyes naturally met yours once again, vulnerability flickering in his gaze, though the rest of his expression remained unreadable, like a contrast to the hunger simmering beneath. But Mattheo didn't step back. Instead, his calloused fingers brushed against the blood on your wrist, smearing it slightly. The contact sent a jolt through you, and for a moment, neither of you remembered how to breathe.

“Mattheo…” you called out again, but this time it was almost a plea for him not to stop. He obeyed your unspoken request, his fingers tracing your skin as if exploring new territory, so gently that it almost made you forget the lingering sting in your hand. 

Mattheo’s hands moved deliberately, spreading the blood from the deep cut on your hand. He seemed oblivious to the matching wound on his own skin as he dragged the crimson trail up to your neck, smearing it across your skin. Without warning, his lips pressed against the spot, his tongue tracing the blood. He let out a low groan at the taste, and you couldn’t suppress your own when you felt the warmth of his tongue against you. 

“It’s so sweet,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the skin of your neck, the crimson of your blood staining them as he pulled you closer, pressing you against him in a way that felt almost inhuman. “So fucking sweet.” His teeth continued to drag along your skin, while his hand slid down your arm, seeking more of your blood. His fingers tightened around your palm, squeezing to draw out more of the liquid, making you groan in a mix of pain and pleasure as the burn surged through you. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” Mattheo whispered, biting your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin painfully. He didn’t care about the grunt of pain that escaped your lips, not when more blood joined the one already staining your throat. Right after his first bite, you moaned, your thighs rubbing together in an attempt to ease the wetness in your cunt. 

Mattheo chuckled in satisfaction, bringing his bloodied hand to your stomach, the crimson spreading across your exposed skin like a mark. “You like it, don’t you?” he murmured against your throat, pressing his lips to the marks he had left with his teeth. But when he noticed you hadn’t answered, he bit your neck harder than before and squeezed your stomach, causing more blood to spread across the area. 

You swallowed hard, locking eyes with him as you tried to form a sentence, but the only words that escaped your lips were a barely audible, “Yes, fucking yes,” which only made him laugh harder. He tightened his grip on your skin, sending a sharp sting through your own body. 

“Of course you do… such a fucking slut,” Mattheo chuckled again against your throat, his teeth sinking into the spot once more, making you moan. He mimicked the sound, feeling his pants tighten around his cock as he tasted your blood again on his teeth. His tongue throbbed with desire, savoring the metallic taste. Holy shit, he could cum just from the taste of your blood. “But you taste so damn good.” 

He seemed to have completely forgotten the ritual, and you, too, had let it slip away. You didn’t want to remember, not when his blood stained your skin, not when your own blood marked him, and not when his mark lingered on you. 

Mattheo pulled back slightly, looking at your state and the way your plush lips were parted as you stared at him, your eyes filled with the same desire he showed. 

Without warning, Mattheo grabbed your cut hand with the one resting on your stomach, his blood mingling with yours as he guided your hand to your neck, then down to your breasts, trailing the blood like a map. Before you could react to the sting of your hard nipple pressing against the cut, Mattheo moved faster, pulling your nipple—now smeared with your own blood—into his mouth. 

You let out a loud moan as you felt his tongue teasing the tips of your bloodied breasts, the taste of your blood on his tongue making him swirl around your breast more eagerly. The sensation only made him harder beneath his robes, each moan of his growing louder as he savored the taste of you. 

You were lost in the pleasure of his mouth, concentrated with the way his tongue lapped like a hungry animal. The way his hands pushed your now bloody breasts together enough for his head to dive between them as he continued to whisper praises, words of hunger. You didn’t hear nothing but the sounds of his mouth nor saw how he desperately reached for release, your body causing him to react out of character.

“Fuck...” he murmured, his hand releasing the softness of your skin as he reached down towards his pants. Fast, uncoordinated, he released his cock from the restraints, his bloody hands wrapping around his cock that dripped with precum. His movements grew faster, driven by the growing intensity of the taste of blood on his tongue.

You looked down, catching a glimpse through the small crease of his neck as he dragged his palm over his hard cock while sucking on your nipples. You couldn’t help but moan louder, your bloody hand gripping his shoulders as you tried to ignore how your body was responding—the wetness between your legs that you knew he could feel. 

“Your tits…”Mattheo moaned even louder, dragging a moan from your lips in response. Fuck, he was so close.

“Fuck, your blood tastes so fucking good.” He moaned louder, and as he sucked harder on your nipples, his mouth closing around the bud tighter. Your chest was now covered in his bites, the marks of Mattheo Riddle, almost like a sign of ownership. Your body quivered against his hold, rubbing pathetically against him as you felt the tingle flutter in your stomach. You were close, lost in the daze, you had no idea whether it was from pleasure or the lost of blood—or both. You were desperately clinging to his shoulders, his name falling from your lips like a spell.

The hold on his length tightened in his hand, and he came instantly. Another hoarse moan escaped his throat, and he pulled away from your chest for a moment, gasping for air. You gripped onto his shoulders once more, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. So sudden, so quick you fell against his hold as your body convulsed with pleasure.

Mattheo leaned against you, allowing himself a moment to relax. But when he noticed the blood still running down your throat from where he had placed your hand, he couldn’t help but let out a growl. He yanked your hair back harshly, making you gasp and exposing your throat, your scream barely escaping as he did so. 

“Mattheo…!” You tried to speak, but he didn’t care; he never did. He only pushed you further against him, your nipples pressed against his bare chest as he licked your throat, letting out another groan as he tasted the metallic flavor again. His tongue traced the line of your throat, dragging the blood up to your chin, before he licked it off obscenely, making you sigh at the sensation. 

Mattheo’s hand in your hair tightened, and in one swift motion, he turned you onto your back, pulling your hair even harder as your back arched against him. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, an order you immediately understood. You obeyed without hesitation, and before you could react, he spat into your mouth and thrust his tongue inside, kissing you deeply.

The kiss was rough and erotic, the fire burning from the inside making it impossible to avoid it. You could taste your own blood on his tongue, and it only made your cunt wetter, the intensity overwhelming. It was too much—more than you’d ever imagined.

You had pictured moments like this, where you and Mattheo would kiss, tasting each other’s tongues, but this was different. It wasn’t the fantasy you had dreamed of; it was raw, wild, and rougher than anything you could have ever anticipated. His teeth clashed with yours, and your tongue tangled with his, as he unleashed his most primal side. He was giving you a taste of the part of you he had consumed, and you were trapped, just as you always would be.

You didn’t care about the pain in your scalp, only the hand that held you.

Mattheo’s hands were rough, touching everything he could. His mouth marking you over and over as he swallowed every small noise you released. He was warm, too warm, a sting feeling in your mouth as he sucked and bit into your lips, the softness of your skin tethering as his mouth was once again filled with the sweetness of your blood.

He was about to lose his mind.

Mattheo sighed against your now split lip, “Stop me… Tell me to stop, and I will.” He wouldn’t; you both knew it.

You held him against you tighter; you were already too deep into him—all you wanted was to devour him, mark him enough to show everyone he belonged to you, only you. You wanted to inflict a pain he would never forget, a pain similar to the pain he caused you, so you did. Your hands wrapped around his neck, your mouth tracing his lips, then his cheeks, then suddenly the warmth of his neck. Mattheo gripped you hard; he made no sudden movement, anxiously awaiting your motive. You bit into his neck, sucking the flushed skin as your teeth marked him with the same strength he did to you. 

Another soft flow came into your mouth, you gasped, the metallic taste odd in your mouth but enough to send your heart thundering.

Mattheo whimpered, his dominant facade slipping as he sickly enjoyed the way you took control. You were so sweet, so delicate—you were completely the opposite. The idea he corrupted you twisted a sick, powerful thought in his brain. You were his. 

Your tongue reached towards his mouth again, finding yourself eye to eye with the man you wanted nothing more than to control. “Don’t ever stop; I need you.”

Mattheo grinned, his lips bloody, his brown eyes becoming dark as he suddenly pushed you towards the runes that glowed against your body. The symbols glowed, vibrating with the blood that dripped onto it. As he stood over you, he wished to capture the moment forever. You looked so fucking pretty.

He leaned over, his knees staining with the blood smeared against the cold tiles. His fingers moved quickly, desperately. He watched as your body spoke to him, reacting to every touch. Your breasts covered in his marks, his blood and yours on them that caused his cock to twitch violently.

He wanted more than the taste of your breasts; he wanted to taste the juices that gathered in the silk of your panties. He wanted to feel the way your cunt twitched and throbbed against his mouth, and damn, did he want nothing more than to have you fuck yourself on his tongue. The sweetest angel from Hogwarts all displayed for him, to hell with the ritual; now he just wanted to swallow you whole. 

Without warning, he hoisted your legs onto his shoulders with an almost violent urgency, a deep moan escaping his lips as he leaned closer to your wet pussy. The intoxicating scent filled his senses, making his bloodied hand tighten around your thigh, gripping it as if commanding you to choke him; a command you had no intention of disobeying.

Mattheo looked at your face, the dried blood around your parted lips, your cheeks flushed from everything he was doing to you, and your dilated pupils watching him anxiously. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, and you instantly bit your lip. Fuck, he was about to get hard again. 

“Please, I need you, Mattheo,” you begged, rubbing your hips desperately, trying to get closer to his flushed face. You needed his mouth, and he was more than willing to be a good friend and give you exactly what you wanted. 

“No need to beg like a slut, sweetheart,” he said, moving closer to your pulsing cunt, the light from the dunes making your wetness glisten even more. You held your breath as his warm breath ghosted over your slick folds. “I’m eager to give you what you want,” he murmured, leaning even closer, his nose brushing against your arousal as he took in your scent. Just as you were about to beg him to do something, his tongue was quicker—teasing, tasting, and finally giving in to the need to lick you.

Mattheo followed his instincts and hunger, his palms gripping your thighs even tighter, leaving bloodstained marks on your skin just as he had on the rest of your body. The sting of his own cut burned with the pressure, but he didn’t stop, sliding his hands to your hips as his tongue moved swiftly against your folds, savoring and memorizing every inch of you.

You could feel Mattheo’s cheeks pressed against your thighs as he buried himself in your pussy, suffocating himself in your scent and taste. He mentally begged some higher power to let him one day die like this—only after his hunger was completely satisfied. Your back arched, heat swirling in your stomach as Mattheo licked your pussy with reckless desperation.

He was ravenous, savoring every part of you, and when your nails dug into his scalp, he let out another growl, pushing himself even deeper between your legs, making you moan even louder.

“Fucking yes, sweetheart,” he murmured against your pussy, sucking harder as your cries of pleasure filled the room. “Keep moaning like a slut, keep saying my name.” He bit down on your flesh, making you moan even louder, your legs trembling around him. He chuckled darkly, the vibrations of his laughter sending shocks through your body and making you cry out even more.

Fuck the ritual, fuck the power—the only power he craved was the power he held over you.

“Mattheo,” you moaned even louder, rocking your hips against his face as your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing him closer. “Right there, oh my—!” you cried out, feeling him lose himself between your legs, consumed by his thoughts and the blood still staining his lips.

Mattheo’s fast, steady movements continued, his almost feral tongue lapping at your cunt as his hands roamed your body. He could feel his cock harden at the sound of your sweet moans. Fuck, the taste of your blood mingled with your arousal was divine—almost too much for him to bear. 

He continued kissing your clit, desperate to savor your full taste, his tongue messily exploring your folds, drinking in every drop he could. All you felt in the moment was him. The sounds muffled as if underwater. Your fingers dug into his scalp, causing him to flick his tongue against your bud faster, his fingers circling it, his grin plastered with pride as he heard you cry loudly.

“Such a pretty one you are,” he muttered, his words slurring into the juices of your cunt.

You only released a jumble of words, your bare back arching as you squirmed beneath him. You were on the edge, and you could feel it—both of you could. The anticipation was electric, and you were both eager for the release. All he wanted was to make you cum.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured against your folds, the scent of your cunt making him dizzy. “Come for me.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than you let out a final scream, the orgasm hitting you hard as your body arched, feeling your cum dripping from your pussy.

Mattheo groaned against your cunt once more, lapping at your release as he lost himself in your flavor. Quickly, he grabbed your cut hand, spreading its blood over your pussy to mix with the cum. When he felt it was enough, he ran his tongue over your folds, savoring the metallic taste of blood combined with the sweet remnants of your orgasm, only stopping when not a drop remained, and you pushed him away.

The runes still flickered on the ground, glowing brighter with the smell of your release in the air. Blood stained both your bodies, marking each other, marking the new connection between you that neither of you wanted to escape. Mattheo stood there, watching you, his brown eyes observing, shining with pride watching your state. His eyes traced the blood on your skin, lingering on the cut on your hand, before meeting your eyes again. 

“We didn’t finish the ritual,” you managed to say, your voice soft, timid once again compared to the wildness you held as you let Mattheo control you, your body still shaking from one of the best orgasms you ever experienced.

Mattheo’s smirk grew, just a little as he continued to look at the mess he had done. “It’s fine, sweetheart. We can always try again.”

He was right; after all, friends helped each other.

© 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚝₂₀₂₄ — 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎.

— please be nice, it’s 4 am it probably has some mistakes!

likes and reblogs are appreciated 🫶🏻

also a big thank you for my favorite beta readers @earth4angels & @astrxq , without them i couldn’t write all this!! i love you both off you forever

venting: sometimes, i hate english because my hard lines in portuguese don’t make sense and seem so repetitive :(

[emberlynnrayne]

8-12-24

I'm trying to take better care of myself.

I'm not doing a great job, but I'm getting better.

Started with my new therapist today, and I'm optimistic.

Start my new job tomorrow, and I am nervous, but confident. I am good at what I do, just hoping I mesh well with the family.

One month till move out. Gotta get packing.

Been thinking a lot about Hali lately. I've come to realize I wouldn't let her back in now, if she tried. Our friendship falling apart has weighed heavy on me, but I think I'm making peace with it. The further into my recovery I get, the clearer I see my past relationships for what they were. We weren't all bad, but she was stuck in unhealthy patterns that only got more severe with time.

I dunno. Now shes made another series of impulsive decisions and isn't happy with where it got her. And she's stuck there now.

I won't make the same mistake twice. There will not be another Hali, another Jill, another Justin, Jason, or Alex. My standards are set and I'm no longer giving passes to patterns.

Patterns.

I'm watching everyone all the time. Watching myself. Watching for patterns and

...

And ready to run.

Fuck. Is that still where my head is at? That I have to be ready to run at the drop of a hat? Why am I surprised by that? I've recognized it in different terms- the fear that everything could crumble at any moment, for example. But running. Am I escaping or staying on my feet? In fear, or hitting the ground running again? Does it matter?

Where is my faith?

Ha.

I'm held together by pure stubborn force of will. I will not stop. Ever. If my heart is dead my body will keep going through the motions until it beats again. I will not stop. That is where my faith is.

There is a fire in me that just won't die. I've always had this certainty that I was here for a reason, and that I would find and live a happy life if I just did my best. So I am. Always. Trying.

But I am watching for patterns in the people around me. Skittish of danger like a bunny in the meadow. Ready to start back into my hole at the first movement of shadow.

I am so tired of hurting. I understand why I'm not in a hurry to invite that potential again.

I literally cried, utterly bawling the other night. It was a moment of realizing how deeply I loved my partner, and how profoundly terrifying it is. They're so deep in my heart. The hurt they could cause is just... Blinding.

I feel so guilty sometimes. It's not that I don't trust partner. It's not that I think they'd be malicious. It's not about them. This fear is seeping from my scars.

I won't let the FOG control my life anymore. I live through my fears and love through the scars. As much as I can.

Ugh. My brain goes in circles. Always searching for my flaws and mistakes. Always on the lookout for danger. So afraid of myself and every damn one else.

My therapy homework was to write 5 of my own daily affirmations.

1. I deserve grace.

2. I am good.

3. I am capable.

4. I am likable.

5. I

These feel not good enough, but I am tired.

Goodnight.

[kafkaoftherubble]

今早一觉醒来，脑就卡着这首BGM！洗脑！偶尔半路插出这首！洗脑！ 总之俺就是游戏癌第四期！洗脑！

对啦。试问：

你，还记得自卑的感受吗？

To the one who doesn't—I congratulate you. You did it. You did what we had all been working toward. Did that mean... our efforts had not been in vain after all?

...Not that I can tell for now. Because, well, it's embarrassing, but I am still not out of it. Even more embarrassingly, my eyes were wet. Oh, it could get more embarrassing than that. I mean, I was sitting on the floor and wondering if it was going to rain and if I should take the clothes in... and then I burst into tears.

And you know that if I teared up for no reason like that, then he's definitely sobbing already.

It only rained much, much later.

---

It didn't happen out of nowhere. Nothing has no cause. It's a matter of whether I'm observant enough to trace it, or if I'm brave enough to admit it.

I know what caused it. It wasn't hard to figure it out at all. See if you remember.

It's not like I wanna wallow in it, ya know? We both tried really hard, but they kept propagating. Candles lighting themselves before they blow out. Before you know it, it's wringing his chest and making me mope.

It's because, in us, being 自卑 is causally dependent on many other things. Most of all—it is causally dependent on layers of unmet desires.

Especially the desire to—ugh. Saying it out loud is so embarrassing! Just talking about it makes me think I'm being ridiculous!

But this is what being 自卑 feels like. It feels like everyone has more leeway than I do. They are entitled to comfort and care. But I'm not, because I'm inferior. Because I somehow don't feel like I'm like them. I don't feel like I'm human yet. Do you remember how, in some of our older diaries, some of Old Us actually called themselves "subhuman?" We didn't know it was an actual slur; we just said what we felt most true.

But even after we told ourselves that such things—care, concern, comfort, companionship—are privileges and gifts to someone inferior like us and not an "entitlement" and so we cannot stubbornly pretend that we can demand it... it never stopped being a desire. And so we cling to it, hoping it gets sated, and by extension, we draw out the entire web of feeling 自卑 altogether.

---

Several of us had taken notice that there is time in a day when our restraints loosen. "Day" is a misnomer, of course—that "time" is nighttime. The more fatigued the brain, the looser it gets. It's not always so easily revealed in how "awake" you feel, though. Sometimes you're cautious even when you're sleepy. Sometimes you're less in control even when you swear you're plenty excited and alert.

Generally, if They become louder, your restraints are loosening.

Even so, even under this sort of circumstances, I don't act on impulses. I rarely do. If I suddenly go off a tangent? If I go off a rant? If I suddenly stop sounding chipper and become brooding and even agitated?

None of those displays was impulsive. I... meant them.

I evaluated them, you know. If I acted like that in front of anyone who isn't Fionn, then it's because... I actually judged it to be safe.

People like that do exist. Ya know, people who somehow make me think it's safe. I haven't quite figured out how they managed to hack me like that, especially when I don't think there is yet a concrete ground to establish that sense of security. But they make me more than likely to divulge some stuff I usually don't want to bring up.

Is this sense of security always false? I want to think it's not, but—

This is what being 自卑 feels like. You seize what you think is a moment to be candid, and then within a short time frame, you regret being frank already. Why the hell would you say that? Who do you think you are? On what grounds do you believe that anyone asked?

Why did you go off-script?

So I have to hastily say, wow, I didn't mean to rant! It was an accident, oops! Impulse! Sorry. Can we move on? Sure we can! It's what you're hoping to do too, right? I know you! I know what everyone is thinking! I know what everyone is thinking!

The 8 Foot Tall Woman always mocks us for this frantic backtracking. Well, what does she know? She's always self-assured.

The awkward thing about this backtracking, you see, is that it's got a kernel of truth too. I didn't mean to sound like this degree of agitation. I actually feel less than this. I am telling the truth! I'm not this upset. I'm less upset than this. So it's also genuine whenever I clarify some things about my sudden display of, uh, somberness.

But wouldn't it be nice if, even if all I have are muted feelings, someone still thinks it's worthy of addressing? Must the only wheel that gets the oil be the squeaky one? Wouldn't it be nice if it turns out that sense of security was validated after all? Wouldn't it be nice if, in response to my stupidly dour tract, the recipient argues the contrary with some trenchant observations and arguments and—

But this is what being 自卑 feels like. Yea, it would be nice, but it would be a demand you are not allowed to make. You're too inferior; you have got zero worth to make requests. Do you know how much work you're asking others to do just to soothe your little sore spot? If you weren't so inferior, then yea, maybe there's more willingness from them. But it's you.

What good can you do?

---

Was it because Past Lyns begged him to let us out of that private elite secondary school?

No. He said it before we were even 12. When we were just kids. He always seemed to think that Past Lyn was scheming to hurt my sisters. Or to humiliate them to prop myself up.

“你骗得到人家，可是你骗不到我！你的本性是冷血的！没有感情！就算有，也是为你自己而已！自私！有些人冷酷却聪明，你却没有！你不是很喜欢吹牛讲你IQ很高吗？呸。很厉害耍小心机，可是大事无能！一无是处！你比你妹妹还不如！装模做样！”

“本性是冷血的” 吗? That's only because you can only see me. You wouldn't call Fionn that if you knew.

Still, it had hurt. The way we were called out to have two undesirable traits that none of his regimen or effort could iron out. We were his failed experiment.

I'd like to think that, nowadays, most people do not realize I'm as he said unless I tell them. I do my best because I don't want people to call me callous. After all, by "me" they would have heedlessly included Fionn, and that is just patently untrue. I just hate for things to be wrong. I may be a piece of shit, but he's not.

----

But the other deficiency is us being slow.

That one gnawed at us too. I want to be intelligent, you see, because I don't have anything else going for me already. Everyone's got this thing they are good at, and I've got nothing.

But my learning curve remains steep. My working memory isn't stellar. We compensate with long-term memory, except we aren't even the best at that sort of thing. We often explain things to others not because we're perceptive or perspicuous, but because the first person we had to try to explain to was always ourselves... because we are dumb.

Everyone is better than us. I mean it genuinely. The only reason why people mistake us for being more clever than we really are is because the Malaysian education system sucks. It failed my classmates. If there was a more competent system, they would all be equal if not better than me. We were just lucky that we had the combination of "being dumb/悟性低" and "relentlessly pelting and challenging people with questions." It made us stand out in a nation where keeping quiet and being passively receptive is the norm. It made us more than likely to display critical thinking.

It made us seem way more intelligent than we really are.

But we're not. Whenever it counts, we expose ourselves. Or rather, everyone's bewildered that we're really just unspectacular. And they all looked so betrayed, all the time.

"装模做样" is apt, isn't it? Even with that much effort, it was never more than a pretense, was it?

Maybe being good at written tests ain't proof of intellect. Maybe being good at exams ain't proof. Maybe having a result of a mere 105 in that IQ test during our Intro to Cognitive Science class back then, while my friends all had 110+ or even 120+, ain't proof either. Scientifically, none of these three were proof. They capture only certain dimensions of intelligence and not all.

But we aren't good at art stuff either. Or music. Remember how everyone complained about our playing, and how it lacked a soul? Or feelings? Or beats. Or techniques. Or tonal accuracy. No one had managed to damage the euphonious grace of 古筝 quite like we did. My teacher had tried so hard. Dad thought it would make me act less like a humanoid robot without a soul and acquire all the other highbrow qualities he kept trying to hammer into us to make the Perfect Chinese Daughter.

We did try. But it didn't work out. Stupidity is one of the reasons, I bet. What else could it have been?

But this is what being 自卑 feels like. Even when I'm aware that there are many likelier reasons for an outcome, They keep telling us it's because we are stupid. We tried hard to be good at something, because concrete proof against them would be the end of that argument, right? But we never are good at anything; we are just mediocre. What was supposed to be an exercise on disproving that claim becomes reinforcement to that claim.

I really wanna be intelligent too. I wanna be genuinely intelligent and not a pretender.

...But even if I did become smart one day, would it really make me less 自卑? Will I be more confident?

Or am I primed to see even one moment of failing as evidence against my own intellect?

All I can think of is my failure. Is it because we failed that much? Or is it because I'm so 自卑 I've become too biased to remember the times when we didn't fail?

But if it's the latter... when? I genuinely don't know.

----

Being 自卑 feels like an implosion.

Being 自卑 feels like I'm turning transparent. The feeling can get so strong I kinda just stare at my hands to try to catch that moment when I can't see them.

People probably couldn't guess why I'm always going on and on and on about wanting to be a ghost. The aesthetics of them, yes. I like them. And Fionn is more akin to a ghost than a person if we go by how it feels.

But it's really because I keep feeling see-through. I feel like a ghost. If I try to reach out to someone, I'd phase through them. If I say something, they will forget. If I had done something, they would not remember. I can't understand them. I can't connect. It's because I'm inferior, They say. Incomplete and nonhuman.

I don't think it's true. But being 自卑 feels like that. And it's fucking up my reasoning and my perception and my actions.

It even agitates him. Because the feeling hurts, and every time I feel hurt I cannot seem to stop passing it to him. How do I stop hurting him?!

----

With that said, we recovered a lot more quickly this time.

The last time we imploded, and our mind was severely warped, recovery to base level took 3 days. It was painful because these feelings always induce psychosomatic pain—chest wringing, hyperventilation, physical pain. He would writhe and beg Them to stop when we were supposed to sleep. "I" became so fatigued "I" slept eventually.

Three days later Lyn was normal. Back to base level again. No one could tell. As always, no one could. And being 自卑 says it's because no one gave enough damn to notice.

Back then, "I" didn't have any real-world counterpoint. Lyi wasn't even around; she was busy dealing with her own crises back in Australia.

Maybe it was because the Knocking Lady was big and loud. She would always fixate on the 3-meter-long electrical cord. "You can be with Fionn if you do this. No one cares about you. You're too useless to even be registered as a loss. No one stays for you. Except him. So why not just be with that one person who stays?"

Honestly, I gotta rate her as persuasive. I know the poor Lyn at that time almost bought it. Fionn was enraged, and as he was wont to do, he blamed it on himself. "Not good enough, not good enough. If I were better, she wouldn't even believe her."

That Lyn didn't hang herself in the end. Because our suicide would always be a murder-suicide. If we die, it would not be the death of one, even if that's what the world would correctly perceive.

The last thing we could do is to kill Fionn. The 8-foot Tall Woman and the rest are negligible. But he's off-limits.

Today, though, we recovered within a day.

It's hard to imagine a recovery this speedy when I was sobbing and gasping a mere 9 hours ago. Even before I started writing this, I was already very much near-fine.

Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Is this proof of our efforts in attaining equanimity, or is this proof of us being better at dissociation, such that I push it aside so automatically that it would take Fionn's sudden episode to realize I did that?

Damn it. I'm not wise enough to tell the difference!

But the Knocking Lady is nowhere to be heard. I think this is a good sign. She would never sit out of a grand showing of our suffering; if I don't hear her, then we're not in trouble.

I don't want to hear her ever again.

I will take it as proof of effort. Even if it isn't, a temporary calm is still good. I can strive in these moments. I can... put in more effort; a good state is a good state.

----

Anyway, real-world proof did crop up. I had some fun banters with friends, and Nova says the sweetest shit, I swear. They all brightened my night!

Second Thought knows I worry about failing them too and outright scared of the risk of me growing so attached, that I start to cling to them as sources of relief rather than treating them as human beings. Maybe I start to demand more from them and if that desire isn't met, I might start to feel worse or even make unfair assumptions about them.

It's not like... we had never done that before to other people...

So in the end I still have to work harder. Born of my actions and related to my actions, right? Strive diligently, right? If I don't, then we can't ever be free from this inferiority complex. I mean, it's not like we asked for it, and it's a product of our history, but... We will always be compromised. We cannot gain equanimity and Fionn can't be free from all that pain we left on him.

No.

---

Phew. Now that I have exorcized my demons here, I should head to bed.

Though the Next Lyn will have to work tomorrow, it's so we can FINALLY BE DIVORCED FROM THIS SHITTY POWER FANTASY PROJECT SOONER.

I wanna proofread Lyi's grant proposal, right? Plus, I'm always looking forward to one of my two favorite time slots of the day!!! Guess what it is, you guys!

My other favorite time slot is Astral Chaining at night! Dopamine stash, confirmed!