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after-witch · 8 months

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Horrorfest: To Make me Fret or Make Me Frown [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Title: To Make Me Fret or Make Me Frown [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Synopsis: You bought a life-size puppet in terrible condition and restored it. But now it doesn't want to let you go.

For Horrorfest request:

Might be cheesy, but Scaramouche haunted puppet for horrorfest? Maybe reader inherits an uncannily lifelike doll, or finds him as an antique?

Word count: 1156

notes: yandere, puppet shenanigans

“He’s creepy,” your friend says. Her nose crinkles and she puts a hand up as if she can ward away whatever haunting abominations she imagines must be inside the doll, waiting to slither through her nostrils. “And weird,” she continues. “And broken.”

The doll has colorful blue hair and most of his strings are missing; one of his eyes is missing its pupil and an arm is cracked, a jagged wound that goes all the way to the fingers. If the doll were to be lifted, the damaged pinky on that arm would probably come right off--maybe the forefinger, too. He’s dirty and wearing only some cast-off shirt, itself probably too damaged to be sold by the secondhand store.

Your friend moves on, eager to head to the second floor where all the nice, expensive secondhand goods are kept, often behind glass cases so they don’t get damaged by looky-loos.

But you stay where you are.

Because the moment you took one look at the damaged life-size puppet propped up at the back of the store, in the same pricetag-less limbo as piles of tupperware with no lid, ripped books and ugly dolls missing arms, and your heart swelled.

“He’s perfect.”

The pinky on the damaged arm did come off before you even left the store, but you were able to salvage the original forefinger. The pinky, sadly, couldn’t be repaired--but you made a new one using the original as a mold and unless you’re staring quite intensely (which to be fair, you often do, when working on the puppet) you wouldn't be able to tell that it’s not original to the hand.

“I’d like to keep all your original parts as much as I can,” you murmur in the direction of the puppet, currently propped up on a chair you’d dragged into your workroom for the sole purpose of letting him have somewhere to sit while you worked. “You really are exquisite, you know? I can’t believe someone let you get into such rough shape.”

You sigh, lamenting the treatment of such a unique piece of craftsmanship, and place the finishing touches on the puppet’s repaired eye. The pupil needed to be filled in with new material but you went ahead and refreshed the iris of both eyes to make them look newer.

“Good as new, see?” You hold up both repaired eyes to the puppet, but realize your mistake when you’re greeted with a prim looking puppet with two black holes where his eyes should be.

“Oops.” You carefully slide the eyes back into the socket, fiddling with your finger until they slot right into place. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking. There!” You grab the magnifying mirror from your desk and hold it up in front of the puppet. “Now, see? Much better.”

It took a few months of work, but the puppet was just about restored, in your view. You’d even bought a new outfit for him, a simple white blouse with ruffles and plain trousers. It wasn’t exactly what you imagined he might have worn originally, but that was fine.

“I’m glad I found you,” you say, to the puppet--and to yourself. “I’ve had a really nice time working on you!” You hum to yourself and start tidying up your work bench. “Now all that’s left is attaching your new strings, and I can have you picked up.” You smile, to yourself, to the puppet, to no one in particular. “I can’t believe that antique shop gave you away for free--they had no idea they were sitting on such a rare item!”

But you, who repaired dolls and the like for a living, immediately knew what the puppet was worth; and who to contact as soon as you were able to get it home, as you knew a friend with an antique shop that took special requests, and he had a particularly wealthy customer who was dying for one of these rare life-sized pieces.

The puppet with freshly painted eyes stares back at you and says nothing.

Something is sitting on your chest. Something heavy and cool to the touch.

Sleep paralysis? It wouldn’t be the first time. You did sleep on your back, after all, and your nights were sometimes restless.

But you open your eyes without trouble, and the sensation does not go away. It takes a few moments, blinking in the dark, to realize who (no--what) is sitting on you.

It’s the puppet.

Freshly painted eyes stare down at you, a face framed by the carefully sewn-in hair. In the dark, you can’t see the wood grains of his skin or the repair marks that you’d buffed until smooth. All you can see is his human shape, the gleam of glass eyes.

“What--” you say, before a wooden finger presses to your lips.

“You were going to sell me.” It’s the puppet--the puppet is speaking.

You nod, terrified, every nerve in your body inflamed.

This can’t be happening, and yet it is.

“Why?”

Your lips are dry and you stutter out an answer, hoping to wake up from this dream at any moment. But the more time goes on, the more you realize that you’re living in reality. An awful one, but reality all the same.

“I-I needed the money, you… you’re worth a lot.”

There’s a sound that comes from the puppet’s wooden throat, but you can’t quite place it.

“You can’t sell me,” he says, simply. If you weren’t sure that you’d lost your mind, you might say that he sounds upset. Not just angry, but--hurt.

“I-I won’t.” You swallow. “Just um. Get off me and I can…”

“No.” The glass eyes bore down on you, and you wish your eyes weren’t becoming accustomed to the dark. It was better not to see the cool stillness in them, unmoving, unblinking.

It’s then that you notice the strings.

Not on the puppet--but on you.

The strings are wrapped around your wrists, tight, pinching into the skin. When you look up you see he’s attached them not to a marionette control bar, but to his own fingers. To himself.

He raises his repaired pinky and your wrist goes along with it--too fast and harsh, nearly flopping over your face.

”Ah.” He regards your flopped appendage with curiosity, before simply lifting it himself and placing it back on your chest. “Well. I’ll have plenty of time to figure that out.”

He leans forward, pressing his weight down on you, until his face was close enough that you could spot your own work; spot the little fine details in the paint, the grooves of his wooden flesh, the way his hair fell in a certain manner thanks to the placement of your carefully created knots.

Oh, you thought, as his face came closer to yours, as he kissed you with puppet eyes wide open and wooden lips stiff.

The paint on his lips needed to be touched up.

#yandere scaramouche #yandere genshin impact #yandere #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest #scaramouche with abandonment issues but in puppet form! dun dun dun

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histarean · 10 months

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barracks bunny

könig x fem reader

summ: you're known as the barracks bunny while you and könig are dating

word count: 1.8k

content/warnings: angst, comfort

a/n: i love könig and writing angst so why not combine them? this is my first cod "fic" so i'm pretty excited! i know my account has been primarily aot but i hope this reaches the cod fandom. love you all

Rumors spread fast in the military. Everyone on the base knew that, especially you.

König and you had been together for a while now and while all the guys knew you were his, there were still whispers floating around. Whispers soon turned to stares, stares to quiet laughing and eventually, the whole base knew you as the barracks bunny.

Now, König’s not stupid, of course he heard what the other cadets were saying and to say he was not happy was an understatement. He knew he had to do something but with three warnings racked up (for beating up other soldiers who were talking shit about you) he couldn’t just fight everyone on the entire base. The next best option was to confront you about it.

His footsteps down the hall sounded like thunder and his breathing was lightning. Each step he took was filled with anger and everyone he passed could hear it. How could these people say those things about his schatz?

“You know she’s slept with half of us already?”

“She’s such a slut”

“I wonder if I’ve ever got a chance with her”

It's so cruel. His precious lover being reduced to a “slut” a “whore” a “barracks bunny” it was all too much. König was trained to keep cool during battle, to withstand weeks of torture, to take stabs to the chest and bullets in the leg but this? No. This was unacceptable.

He’s closer to your room now. Closer to finding out the truth and his thoughts are racing. What if it is true? Has this whole relationship been a sham? Rumors don't come from nowhere, there has to be some validity behind it. He hopes it’s not true. He really, really does because what would be left for him without you? What would he be fighting for?

König stands outside your door. Just standing. His hand is on the doorknob but he can’t bring himself to open it. He can hear you laughing on the other side with someone else. So it was true. König could feel his heart break and shatter into a million pieces. The already faint talking started sounding like gibberish as he slowly let his hand fall from the door to his side. It felt like time had stopped and everything around him faded away into oblivion. Maybe he had been there for 30 seconds, a minute, 5 minutes, who could say. Nothing mattered anymore.

Thoughts of leaving KorTac crossed his mind since..what was left for him here? You had lied to him. You promised it was all a joke and nothing happened. That you were his one and only.

The trance was suddenly broken when the door opened and a hand pressed against his chest.

“König, what are you doing?” your familiar voice brought him to his senses.

He couldn’t look you in the eyes. His head bowed, eyes settling on the ground.

You tried shaking his arm but he barely budged.

So tense, you thought.

“Hey talk to me big guy” you brought your fingers to his chin lifting his head. It’s a reach. “Please”

König let you lift his head but averted his gaze to the room in front of him. It was Ghost.

Ghost was the one in your room. Why him of all people?

“You lied to me” , his accent thick.

He felt betrayed. His only love had gone behind his back and stabbed him in the heart. This hurt more than any wound he’d ever had. Bullet holes were nothing compared to this. No knife could cut deep enough to produce the same pain he was feeling.

“When were you going to tell me? That there were others in your life” he struggled to get the words out of his mouth.

“What are you talking about?” you were audibly confused. “Is this about those rumors you’ve heard? I told you they were all fake”

König mustered up the courage to look you in the face. You were so beautiful. Even though he was angry, he couldn’t get enough of you. He could look at you forever if he wanted. Your eyes seemed to suck him in like a black hole. Once you’re in, you can’t get back out. No matter how hard you try. No matter how hard he tried.

But past all that, he couldn’t find a hint of deception in your face. You looked genuinely lost.

“Why is Ghost in your room?” König glanced up to him.

Ghost wasn’t doing anything. Not hurriedly pulling up his pants, not putting his shirt back on, nothing that would point to them being interrupted. He was calmly sitting on a chair, observing a rifle. Fully clothed, mask and all. You, on the other hand, were still dressed in cargo pants and a creme tank top that hugged your chest. So what the hell were you two doing?

“He was showing me how to load ammo more efficiently” you turned back to Ghost, he was completely unbothered. Not even looking up.

Everyone knew you had a hard time loading ammo quickly and were often stuck using knives and other weapons in place of guns. Price was even close to discharging you because of this.

Lovers quarrel, he thought. It was a ridiculous argument and Ghost wanted no part of it. He got up to leave, tossing your AUG on the bed. He casually walked out, ignoring a stare from König that could burn cities.

“Good luck” he whispered to you, passing the door and disappearing into the hallway.

Now you are alone. With König. This would usually be ideal but now it was scary. You know he would never ever lay a hand on you but maybe it was different this time? You hadn’t done anything but he didn’t know that. All he knew was another man was in your room while he wasn’t. This would make anyone angry. The whole situation was just a huge misunderstanding.

“I don’t want to have this conversation in the doorway. Can you please come in?” you reached for his arm but he pulled away before you could touch him.

You were dirty to him. Tainted. He was aware you weren’t a virgin before you met him, but when you’re in a relationship, sex is sacred. At least to König.

He walked in the room first, scanning it for any disturbances or abnormalities. None. There wasn’t anything out of place: sheets tucked tightly under the corners of the bed, clothes hung up in the small closet, everything was in order.

He took a seat on the same chair Ghost was occupying minutes earlier. It was still warm. You sat on the bed facing across from him. König’s leg was bouncing so fast it made the chair shake and his hands were fidgeting with themselves.

You slowly got up and kneeled down in front of him, taking his hands in yours. He looked down at your interlocked fingers then to your eyes. You looked sad. He never wanted to make you feel this way but what you did was unforgivable.

“Believe me König, I would never do anything to hurt you” you had a slight smile on your face, trying to comfort him.

He didn’t smile back. What he needed was the truth. Where the rumors were coming from, why you got weird stares, and how long this has been going on. If you couldn't tell him, or if he thought you were lying, he might just have to end this. He doesn’t want to but how can he be with a liar, a cheater, someone unfaithful.

“Tell me everything,” he said in a deep voice. Eyes fixated on you, unmoving.

“There is no everything, König. Just stupid boys trying to start something out of nothing” you explained, “I promise”

His leg had slowed down to a steady pace, still bouncing, but more controlled. You rubbed your thumb along his knuckles. Soothing. Like a mother’s touch. Except he could never remember his mother touching him like this. Like anything. You were the first one in his life to show any affection. Romantically or platonically.

“Do you promise?” he squeezed your hands.

Please don’t lie to me schatz. You’re all I have.

“I promise”

That’s all König needed to hear. He wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. It was awkward. He wasn’t used to hugging people. It was suffocating but warm. His large frame surrounding your small body made you feel at home. He was your home. And you were his.

“Ich liebe dich Engel. Bitte bleib für immer bei mir” he muttered into your neck.

“Ich liebe dich auch” you replied through broken German.

He had taught you some of his native tongue when you had spare time. Simple phrases like “I love you” “cuddle me” “please” and so on. You wrote down all the things he taught you in a little notebook and often referred back to them when you had the chance. In your opinion, it was a pointless language with long words that made no sense and unnecessary diacritics, but you’d do anything for your king.

You held each other for a while, slightly rocking back and forth. He breathed in the scent of your hair and you rubbed his back, stopping for a moment then continuing.

You felt your body begin to lift, feet dangling in the air. You wrapped your legs around König’s waist for support as he carried you to the bed. He slowly lays you down, stepping back for a minute.

“Aren’t you coming?” you patted the space next to you.

Of course König was coming, he just didn’t want to hurt you. Lying down directly on top you would surely suffocate you and he couldn’t do that to his little Maus. You were so small compared to him, so fragile. He’d seen you kill countless men, but in his eyes you were still his delicate Blume.

“Yes my dear, I need to know you are comfortable though” he looked down at you.

Your safety and needs always came before his. In the bedroom, on the battlefield, and anywhere else you might be. You were his whole world and he wanted to make sure you knew that. You did. He told you everyday. Constantly showering you with compliments and praises.

“I am”

König’s gentle climbing in next to you, careful not to crush you. He lays on his side as you snuggle into him, face in his chest. So warm. You could hear his heartbeat, such a steady and comforting sound. A slight smile forms on his lips as he wraps you in his arms engulfing your torso. You stayed there for what felt like forever, savoring this sweet moment. Who knows how many more of these you would get. Your jobs were dangerous to say the least. Living to see another day was a gift, not a promise. But being with him made it all worth it. He’s the love of your life. You would never want to be with anyone else. Only him.

“You are everything to me, Meine Liebe” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

His Liebe. Forever and always.

#konig x reader #konig x fem reader #konig x female reader #konig x you #konig fanfic #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #konig imagine #konig angst #konig comfort #konig fanfiction

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charmercharm3r · 11 months

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Masterlist

thinking about phases minho and pegging…

he’s such a slut for that stupid piece of plastic, covered in sweat and drool and tears to the point you can’t tell who’s fluids are who’s. except for his cum, of course, it’s covering his entire lower stomach from when the night had begun and you had him on his back.

he was rubbing himself raw at this point, doing all the work and you just got to lay there and admire the pretty view of your boyfriend unable to think about anything but the bright purple strap on pressing against his prostate. with your hands on his hips, guiding him back and forth, minho vigorously jerked his leaking cock as he leaned back a little to find the right spot to rock the dildo into. all the while he couldn’t stop moaning, crying, begging for just one more.

but minho was also so far past broken that he couldn’t help himself anymore, though, he still tried. “you’re trying so hard, aren’t you baby? are you getting tired? i thought you said you wanted to do it yourself—“

“i do!” he interrupted you, frustrated that he was doing everything right but so wrong at the same time. the quick raise of your eyebrow kicked him back down into place, “i— i wanna. so close— just a little bit—“

his hips stilled at an angle that looked rather uncomfortable, back bent and his knees on either side of you locking your midsection between them. minho tightened his grip around his cock and sped up his motions for lewd and obscene squelching to fill the room along side his whimpers. you knocked your hips up just the slighted bit and it toppled him into another dry orgasm. minho’s body went rigid and his broken cries were like music to your ears. you were surprised he even had any cum left, catching what dribbled down his softening dick with your finger and bringing it to your lips as he shuddered under the touch.

“did so good, baby boy,” you cooed, reaching up to cup his cheek and let him fall into the crook of your neck. minho merely hummed as he regained his breath, which turned out to be rather timely as he began gently, as undetectable as possible, rutting back and forth on the dildo once again. “oh, you’re insatiable, hm?”

oops, he’s not that subtle.

his lips found the skin of your collar bone and latched on. the left over residue on his stomach pressed against your own made you feel sticky alongside his sweat. “don’t make a mess if you’re going to be lazy.”

the only response you got was another strangled groan against your chest, then his hips switching into an up and down slam into your pelvis. the pounding motion made the bed rock harder, he so easily could’ve bruised either of you with the pace he set for himself.

“that’s better, there you go, baby. keep working for it. it’ll feel so good because you earned it. work for one more and i’ll give you as many more as your cock hungry hole can handle.”

“wan’ it— i wan’ it,” minho was barely coherent, his brain so empty, so light.

“i know you do, almost there. can you feel it? can you feel me so deep in you? how are you still so tight, baby? my boy, so warm and sweet, so cute when all you can think about is my cock.”

“wan’ it, wan’ it, wan’ it— so close— hngh— fuck,” his arms slithered around your torso to keep you as close to him as possible, not even air could fit between your bodies.

minho reverted back into a quick grinding motion that slammed the headboard against the pillow you put between it and the wall— precautionary because you both knew how tonight was going to go.

“slutty baby, you just can’t stop. it feels too good, right? c’mon then, make those pretty noises you know i love so much.”

so susceptible to the siren lure of your voice, entranced by the warmth of your skin on his and your natural musk he was drowning in, the high made him fall limp this time and slump against you as his eyes rolled back, body twitched, and whimpered uncontrollably. you held him snug in your arms until it passed, then worried when his breathing fell short.

fingers carding through his hair, not higher than a whisper, “baby boy, come back to me.” a light peck of his lips against your chest to show he was conscious. “now you get what you’ve earned.”

—

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @lvrhyuka @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @goblinracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @kaitchan @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts

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strangersatellites · 1 year

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pride, envy, wrath, sloth, gluttony, lust, ao3

Seven Deadly Sins Series (NSFW 18+)

greed (noun) - also called avarice, replaces eternal satisfaction with temporal stimulation.

no content warnings for this one but uh- its nasty so. do with that what you will. 🫣😵‍💫

There is nothing that Eddie enjoys more in this life than Steve.

Nothing he enjoys more than Steve in any and all forms.

Happy and sunshine smiling. Confused with his cute little head tilt. Angry and riled up.

But what he’s not going to do is lie and say that he doesn’t have a favorite version of Steve.

Because he does, he absolutely does. Has two actually.

The first is Steve with hearts in his eyes and his hand in Eddie’s. The one that makes Eddie’s heart flutter and his face wear a permanent smile.

But the second–

The second is when Steve’s shaking apart underneath him.

That’s the one that sends electricity coursing through Eddie’s veins. The one that gives him a headrush so strong he feels like he could fly.

There’s just something about the way that his big, strong, powerhouse of a boyfriend lets himself be broken, break into thousands of tiny little pieces that Eddie gets to send skittering across the floor. Gets to put back together again when he comes back down.

Steve had had a rough day at work and came home wound tight and subdued. And Eddie knows this drill. Knows it only takes a few sweet, sugar kisses dropped to his neck and hands squeezing at his hips to send Steve dipping down into that headspace he loves– that Eddie loves him in.

Now finds Steve babbling nonsense into the sheets, face shoved sideways, Eddie’s hand tangled in his hair.

“You gonna come again, baby? Think you can give me a third later?”

Steve whines high in his throat, hips fucking backwards on Eddie’s cock.

“Feels so good, daddy. Please, need it.”

He lands a sharp smack to his ass, leaves a red handprint behind and feels Steve’s broken whimper flood straight into his bloodstream.

Eddie drops his voice to that mean, patronizing tone that makes his boy shake. “Aw. You need it, baby? Tell daddy what you need.”

Squeezing at Steve’s hips and tugging his body backward, he gets lost in the way his cheeks bounce when they make contact with Eddie’s own hips. Feels resistance when Steve clenches up tight, moans loud and needy while his hands scramble for purchase in the sheets.

“Inside me, daddy. Want you to come in me, please!”

And Eddie can’t help but chuckle under his breath. Laughs at the wet slide inside his boy’s body and the way Steve can never get enough.

“Again angel? Already gave it to you once.” He slows his hips to a deep grind and feels Steve adjust his knees and try to pull him deeper. “You want daddy to fill you up again?”

The way Steve’s hole, stretched red and puffy around Eddie’s dick, clings to his length on every slow pull out makes him see stars. Always does. The way it feels like Steve has carved out a place inside himself just for Eddie. Would rearrange everything in his body just for Eddie to have a place.

And what is a guy like Eddie to do with that? Fuck him hard enough to leave bruises in his guts, thats what.

He picks back up a brutal rhythm as Steve nods furiously and pants into the sheets. Feels him clench tight and watches his back arch deep as he shakes through a release.

Pets his hands soft across his ass, his legs still shaking as his breath heaves on the come down.

“Good boy babydoll. My best boy, aren’t you? You feel so good, huh?”

He can hear the tears in Steve’s voice and wishes he could see more of his face, cheeks shiny and eyes sparkling. “Thank you daddy. You feel so good.”

Even though he’s just come, he’s pushing up onto all fours and wiggling his hips back.

“C’mon daddy. Fill me up. Want it in my tummy.”

Eddie almost blacks out. Pounds into him so hard and fast he can hardly think. No thoughts in his head other than tight, hot, and “Baby.”

He’s breathing rapid and wild, sticky with sweat and the exertion of fucking his boy twice. But giving him what he wants no less. What he needs. Because when he’s as wound up as he was today, it’s Eddie’s sworn duty to bring him back down to earth.

“Gonna give it to you baby boy.” He lets go of his hip with one hand and slides it around to press low against Steve’s stomach. “You feel me angel? Feel how deep daddy’s getting? Gonna stuff you full, sweetheart. Give you anything you want, greedy boy.”

Despite his orgasm, Steve’s still got tears pouring down his face, whining loud and wanton. Trying to pull his legs together and crying out everytime Eddie’s cock fucks up against his prostate. “Daddy please! Please come! Can’t take it,” he sobs.

Maybe it’s fucked up what gets him off. But his boy crying and saying it's too much is always going to do it for him.

He shoves in deep and spills into his tight heat. Grinds deep and hard while he whispers to a still-shaking Steve. “That’s it. Yes, you can, baby. Look at how good you take it.”

Eddie catches his breath and pets up and down Steve’s sides as his tears start to dry. He pulls at his right cheek, squeezes tight as he starts pulling out, painfully slow.

“Want you to keep it, baby. Can you do that for me?”

Sees the shiver roll down Steve’s spine and watches his muscles clench and squeeze tight when he pulls all the way out with a slick pop. Steve whines but keeps all of Eddie’s spend inside.

“Best boy.” He thumbs at both cheeks and admires how his hole flutters trying to stay filled. “Let’s get you on your belly, baby. Come on.” He eases him down with hands on his hips. Wraps a hand around each thigh and spreads his legs wide and settles between.

He knows how this part is going to go over before he even opens his mouth.

Steve is going to freak out a little. Act shy and embarrassed even though he loves it. Then he’ll get needy approximately two seconds later.

He settles with a hand on each of Steve’s red little cheeks and drops a kiss just shy of his hole. Whispers against his skin and sees the way he shivers at the feeling.

“Show me.”

Like clockwork, his muscles tense up and he whines. What Eddie can make out of his face is flushed crimson and deep, his eyebrows furrowed like they do when he’s embarrassed and wants to hide. His glute muscles pulled taut nearly send Eddie into cardiac arrest and he has to physically hold himself back from taking a bite.

Instead he pulls him apart and lands a quick slap to his hole.

“Show me, baby. Daddy wants to look at you.”

Steve buries his face in his arms and his back is heaving with his breath. But he relaxes and Eddie looks on in awe, watches his come drip out, wet and sticky. Watches Steve squirm and whimper. Hears the tears once again and knows this time he’s down.

“You– you said I could keep it.” Hiccup. “Wanted to keep it daddy. Feels so good. So full.”

Eddie smirks and drags two fingers through the mess leaking out over his rim and down his balls.

“Aw honey. Is my sweet boy getting greedy? Is getting fucked twice in a row not good enough? Hm?”

Steve’s shaking his head, no. His mouth hung open and eyes so earnest and worried.

“You’re okay babydoll. You know I’m gonna give it back honey.” He shoves his dirtied fingers back inside in one deep push. “Let you keep anything you want in this hole. My good greedy boy.”

His boy is writhing from head to toe. Whining gone soft and quiet and his tears no more than a drip.

Eddie wiggles his fingers and presses a thumb up against his balls. Steve’s whole body jerks upward, takes Eddie’s hand with it. His knees pull together tight and push his ass back in a kneeling position and everything starts to shake. Comes dry for his third orgasm of the night and sends his broken pieces falling right into Eddie’s hands. His voice is weak and broken and Eddie’s not sure he’s even aware of the little noises he’s making. He soothes a hand over Steve’s ass and presses soft kisses to the freckles he has there while he drags his fingers out slow and gentle.

“Shh, okay baby. Okay. You’re done. You’re okay sweetheart. Daddy’s got you.”

He manages to pull Steve up against his chest and lay back against their headboard. Cards a hand through his hair while he stops shaking and comes back into his body. He knows he’ll have to clean Steve up later. Will probably lick the rest of his own come from his hole in the shower if he’s honest.

But for now he’s content to hold him and kiss his forehead. To tell him how much he loves him. How much he loves him good and loves him greedy.

#seven deadly sins series #greed #steddie #steddie smut #steve harrington #eddie munson #gin writes #this one made brain go brrrr #😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫#this is fucknasty #and I do not apologize #if gross boys being gross aren't your speed #I'll catch you on the flippity flip #no movie to sponsor this #just silence once again

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twinsfawn · 5 months

Note

saltburn review please ? it’s very important to me to know your thoughts

i’m so sorry i took forever to answer this, i wanted to really dive in and needed the time/headspace to do it in. it’s not the best movie i’ve ever seen by any means but there’s so many dynamics/themes/motifs that i can’t stop thinking about.

spoilers and me rambling endlessly under the cut

the relationship that has the most meat is obviously between oliver and felix. i’ve been ruminating on how love and hate are often not opposites but rather two ribbons dancing entwined with one another. both are an obsession. i can’t stop thinking about you. i loathe you. i wish you were dead. i can’t live without you. i need to be you, a part of you, inside you. i need to consume you. i can never get close enough. it infuriates me.

i want to fucking destroy you and then kiss and cradle every broken piece. i want to wear your skin. i have to get rid of you forever. i’ll never let you go.

there’s also obviously a possessiveness that oliver has over felix (as well as most of the other characters at saltburn). “i protected him” (you’re mine).

funnily enough, oliver is felix’s pet just as much as felix is oliver’s

more on oliver’s character in general: everyone is a pawn to him and fills some emotional/psychological/financial hole.

when his real self slips through there’s a sociopathic dominance

…..his need to make venetia and farleigh “behave”. his need to keep felix right where he wants him.

on venetia and oliver: obviously i love eroticism with a side of gore. vampiric and disturbingly intimate.

also loved the weird dynamic of control regarding venetia eating, again as if she were oliver’s pet

on felix and venetia: there are DEFINITELY little glimpses of incestuous undertones which were very interesting. they’re attached at the hip. matching tattoos. sharing clothes. venetia sits in her brother’s lap despite them both being adults. venetia seducing all of oliver’s closest friends and him being disturbed by it

…venetia’s shock and horror at finding oliver is wearing felix’s aftershave right after they bury him but also being intoxicated by the twisted perversion

more on venetia: i really liked her character as a whole and the actress’ portrayal of her was enthralling. she’s truly a cold blooded ghost, and a snake at times

finally here’s some miscellaneous sections of the script that i really liked

#saltburn #emerald fennell #script analysis

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forgedroyalseal · 9 months

Text

The sudden silence was jarring. Just moments ago, the cabin had been an eruption of noise. Screaming and crying and cursing. Then- nothing. Alyss sat in the bed, eyes staring blankly at the wall, all emotion drained from her soul, leaving nothing but a gaping hole that was filled with life and love just a few hours ago. Pauline held her hand and stroked her hair as the midwife cleaned Alyss and the bed. Halt busied himself by brewing a pot of coffee to offer to the physician and midwife. And Will paced. He paced from one side of the cabin to the other. Every time he passed the open door to his bedroom, he forced himself to look inside, to prove to himself over and over again that this was real, that it wasn’t just an awful nightmare. The silence was broken after the twelfth time Will had paused by the door.

“Could you stop your damn pacing Will! If you’re that restless then go make yourself useful outside.”

Alyss’ words were sharp and bitter and they torn into Will like an arrow. But he didn’t blame her. Not for a single second. How could he?

“I’m sorry.” And no one would never know just how many things he was sorry for. He lowered his head as he slunk out of the cabin.

He had barely made it two steps off of the veranda when he heard the door open and close behind him.

“Will-“

“Don’t, just don’t. This can’t be about me Halt. Alyss is the one hurting right now. She deserves our full focus and sympathy.” Will didn’t even bother to turn around to face Halt, knowing that he couldn’t see the heartbroken looking on Halt’s face without losing it. And he had to keep it together for Alyss. He couldn’t break down now, not when she was suffering so much.

Will felt Halt’s hand fall onto his shoulder, felt an arm come around to pull him close.

“Will, you just lost your child, you are allowed to grieve as much as Alyss is.” Halt said softly.

“Someone once told me that a man becomes a father the first time he holds his child. But a woman is a mother the moment she knows she’s expecting. So, nothing really changed for me. But Alyss, she’s not a mother anymore. How can I even compare what we are feeling?”

“That’s not fair Will. I don’t care what people say, you were a father the moment Alyss told you she was pregnant. Just because you never got to hold your baby doesn’t change the fact that you lost your child.”

“I don’t know how to grieve and help her at the same time. I have to choose one, and the decision is obvious.”

“Trying to deny your pain will break you. Maybe not right away, but Will, you can’t hold this in. I know you, this pain will eventually explode and you might not be able to put all the pieces back.”

“I’m stronger than you think.”

Halt shook his head. “Will, you are stronger than you think. But this kind of hurt is stronger than all of us. Your grief doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human.”

“If I let the grief in, I’m not sure it will ever find its way out.” Will admits.

“It may never fully leave. But your heart will find space for it. It will give it a drawer for it to fit into. Or perhaps a whole room. But it won’t consume you. It won’t destroy you.”

Will finally meets Halt’s gaze, tears pooling in his eyes. “How do you know?”

“Because I’m not going to let that happen.“ And he said it with such confidence that Will allowed himself believe it.

#is posting sad things on Sundays a new trend?#sad Sunday?#not sure if that’s gonna catch on #rangers apprentice #ranger's apprentice #will treaty #ranger’s apprentice fanfiction #rangers apprentice fanfiction #halt o'carrick #alyss mainwaring #drabble

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babyraptor · 2 years

Text

it took me nearly 20 years of fandom before i dove headfirst into Trigun fan fiction, and now that i’m in, there’s no resurfacing. so now, just in case anyone is interested, i would like to share some of my favorites. listed in alphabetical order.

i’ll be updating my list every so often. (and if you really want to know, i’m secondofjune on AO3.)

A Bit of a Tight Spot

A Brief Respite

Absolution

A Fool From Any Direction

a haven for restless angels of mercy

a kind heart to haunt

About fears and reassurances

all that i wish i could say

all variety of vows

A Man Called Agony

And Every Breath We Drew Was ‘Hallelujah’

and how i idolize the empty highs

and we’re gonna sing it again

and your prayers (they’re not fables)

An Exchange of Words

a phantom’s reverence

Asymmetry

a tide of tender mercies

Ascension Day

At the mercy of the universe

At the Top of the World

At Vacant Hours

A Whisper in Darkness

babe, i’m gonna leave you

Balance

Bare Hands, Holding Onto the Wire

Bedside Manner

Belly of the Whale

Benediction

between your scars and mine

bittersweet

Black is the Color

Bloodstained Devotion

Bluebells

broken boy, how does it feel?

Bulletproof

But Like A Refugee

but tonight belongs to me

By His Hands

Can’t take my eyes off you Carrot & Stick

Changing Luck

chemical haze

Child of Blessing

Closed and Healing

Closer

Cold Comfort

Come Back Home

Complimentary

could we please pretend

Couldn’t Be the Booze

Daily Special

dance in our catastrophe

darlin’, it finds a way to live in you

Daughter of Eve

dead man talking

Desecration is But a Form of Worship

did you get enough love (my little dove)

Dinner for Two

Dirty Thoughts

disarm you with a smile

Don’t need a gun to blow your mind

don’t stop if I fall and don’t look back

dream a little dream

Dreaming Saint’s Sonata

dress me in red and throw your roses

Duality

Episode 25: Live Through

Equinox

every me, every you

Exodus 23:24

Eyes of the Storm

Facets

Fairytale of December

Falling forward, back into orbit

Feel Good

Figure Me Out

Fine, Great

Fire on the Mountain

fool in the moon

for a sinner like me

For Good

for reasons wretched and divine

for where else could i go? who else could i love but you?

From the Past or the Future? Your Guess Is As Good As Mine

gentle thievery

get me outta my head

Ghosts of the Byway

god like sunshine, girl like rain

gravedigger, gravedigger

Gung-Ho Guns Ver. 1.0

Gunpowder Nights

Hallefuckinglujah

Heartbeat

heavens away

Hell, I’m Dead Anyway

hold my body down

Holding My Breath

Honeymoon

Hunger

Hurricane

I Believe in the Kingdom Come

i can see a lot of life in you

i can see it in his eyes

Idle Hands (The Devil’s Playground)

I just can’t wait for love to destroy us

IN EXCELSIS DEO

In heaven, lost my taste for hell

Inseparable

Insomnia

Interjacence

inter paradisum et infernum

In the Bloom of a Creosote

in the dark and out of harm

i promised i’d give this a go

i shot cupid (needle and thread)

It’s Open Season on Blue Moons

I’d wanna burn whole (to be someone’s spark)

I’ve seen all the demons that you’ve got

Joan of Arc

Just a Hobby

Just for Tonight

Just Listen to the Rhythm of the Heart

Keep your bliss, there’s nothing wrong with this

kiss me, son of god

la petite mort

Lay It On Me and I’ll Be There to Catch You

lay us down

lead-fill the hole in me

Left Hand

Life on Gunsmoke

Little Pieces of the Nothing That Fall

love and its decisive pain (sunlight)

maman

mashed potatoes

More Than You’ll Ever Know

Minefield

Mysterious Ways

Need

Night Vision

nobody said it was easy

No Idle Threat

Not For My Behalf

Not in the Job Description

not to me, not if it’s you

oh lazarus, how did your debts get paid

One Day Closer to Death

Only Human

Only Over You

Open Me Up

our bodies fit together

Past the Mission

Personal Jesus

Pieces

playing cards with the elephant in the room

Playing House

Pollinate him, please!

Praying to the Wrong God

Pretending

raise a glass to the turnings of the season

Reign of Lovin’

Roots

rough edges

Sandstorm Blues

say it’s such a fault

say your name, forever

Scratch Your Surface

Season of the Witch

Secondhand Secrets

Self-Inflicted

Skin Deep

Sleepless Without You

Smoke & Soulmates

so i’ll sing to the grave

So It Goes

Someday Out of the Blue

someone to last your whole life

something eluding you, sunshine?

something I can’t know ’til now

Something of a Departure

Something to Live For

sorry about the blood in your mouth, i wish it were mine

Stargazers, New and Old

stop me if you’ve heard this all before

Strange Powers

Strawberries & Cigarettes

stretched out for miles and miles

sucker love

sweet dreams of otherness

take a knife and cut through the darkness

take my breaking heart (and tear it all apart)

taste my misfit love

Tension

terrors don’t prey on innocent victims

that constant sting that we call love

The barrel of the gun

The Edge of Knowing

The Evening and the Morning and the Night

The Lighthouse

The Loneliness of the Long Distance Traveller

The Only Nice Thing That Follows

The Quick and the Bed

there are certain things you ask of me (and there are certain things i lack)

there’s something about you

The sand in your eyes was made of dreams

the ship’s inhabitants

the truth hurts worse

The wolf and the lamb

thirty pieces of silver

this could be home

this could be the end of everything

This is how we multiply

this road we are on

Thorns of Memory

Those were the days

time and tide, through the wall

Time Out

to have a body is to be a horror show

Tomorrows

touch me like nobody else does (lovely)

Touch

Trillium and Ivy

trust me to take you home

Trust

Tuesday’s Gone

two from the bottom of the bin

Untouchable

Up Front

Vashwood O’Ween

Visible Scars

water supply

Waiting at that shallow grave

Where Wild Roses Grow

Why Your Current Relationship is Not Sustainable

Wildflowers

wild horses couldn’t drag me away

will we ever grow a proper set of panic

will you welcome your extinction

Within Us An Orchard

Wolfwood’s Guide to Confession

Worth Something

yet broken still you breathe

You Are Red, Violent Red

you can run away with me anytime you want

you know you had it coming, my friend

you put me on and said I was your favorite

you stop the noise

you think history is repeated, you keep on pushing me away

you’ll leave me lonely at best

you’re a canary (i’m a coal mine)

you’re gonna be the one left standing

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cyber-dump-171 · 11 months

Text

Chapter 15: Divine Fury

Left for Carnage (Twisted Wonderland x Reader)

← Chapter 14 | Masterlist | Chapter 16 →

WARNING: N/A.

Note: Hello everyone! This chapter was meant to be posted earlier but this week has been wild from my computer dying to an entire day without light because of a storm. But hey, we’re here! Savanaclaw’s arc starts next chapter and remember that if you want to be notified whenever I upload a chapter, you can find the tag list on the masterlist. Enjoy!

━━━━━━◇◆◇━━━━━━

You open your eyes to find a vast sea of darkness. No stars or clouds are dancing in the sky, just a black void that eerily yet quietly calls your name.

You turn your head to the side, focusing on the ghostly hues of white and dark green grass that act as your temporary bed. It's a strange sensation, to be lying on top of it without feeling the annoying and pointy blades of the lawn poking and stinging at your exposed skin, causing itchiness and irritation; instead, you feel nothing, only a bizarre sensation of floating and dizziness alongside the heaviness of your eyelids, a silent plea to just close them again and drift off into a deep sleep.

Yet, you ignore those signs, your curiosity taking the lead, wanting to find the answer to the question as to where you are. You get up from the ground, discovering that you're still in your pajamas and barefoot, and turn your body towards the north, only to encounter the ominous void that acts as a wall, preventing you from seeing what's beyond this place. You look down at the ground, finding that a few meters away from where you are, the grass ends, swallowed by the darkness. It's as if you're on an island, but the sea has been replaced by the night sky, and all that remains is a small patch of land, isolated from the rest of the world.

‘Yeah, I'm definitely dreaming.’

You turn around and let out a soft gasp as you witness the small yet dilapidated structure that lies in front of you. A cemetery.

There are several graves hidden behind a thin cloud of mist, in the middle of the structures is a path of gravel and muddy earth that leads to a small church made of dark oak and brick whose color looks worn, almost gray. The wood of the building looks rotten and is full of holes of different sizes, the dirty windows are broken and some pieces of glass are scattered on the lawn, and an unknown structure that sits on the highest point of the roof is rusty and split in half, its counterpart nowhere to be seen.

‘Even a small gust of wind could cause that building to collapse.’

Intrigued by the sinister scene ahead of you, your feet move of their own accord as you traverse the rather small graveyard, though you notice at the distance that some of the tombstones have also been swallowed by the darkness. How far does this graveyard extend? You hear the crunch of the stones and earth beneath your feet, though your brain panics as you can't feel the texture of the elements touching your skin. The sensation of floating returns as your footsteps feel more like small jumps that remind you of the video of the first man landing on the moon.

Your gaze falls on the graves near your path. They're incredibly old, with faded words and unintelligible epitaphs carved into them, their structure showing various cracks filled with small cobwebs and moss.

Some of the tombs still have offerings placed in front of them, or at least what's left of them; the years have reduced many of these items to complete dust. Wilted flowers with delicate and dead stems, rotten items of food infested with small bugs, letters reduced to a tiny pile of mush or their contents completely erased by the rain, and some pictures that held memories of the dead no longer show their faces, only a semblance of what was once a happy remembrance.

However, something caught your eye when looking at one of the graves. The date... these people died away centuries ago. You crouch down, careful not to step on the remains of some candles, your fingers gently brushing on the stone.´

In loving memory of: Opal Vaughn. (1276 - 1302) Beloved wife and mother.

And then the next one…

Here lies: Sebastian Caldwell. (1285 - 1302). Loved by all

Wait… you recognize that last name! The Caldwells are the only other family of nobles that live in Sleepy Hollow. Unlike your family's home, which is tucked away in the mountains and surrounded by lush forest and tends to be more introverted, the Cadwells live in a huge house near the center of the village and have a more prominent presence in society. They're practically known for running the whole town, with their children holding high positions such as mayor and head of the Neighbourhood Association.

They have invested much of their money in making Sleepy Hollow a tourist destination, funding the International Museum of Medicine, attractions that highlight the more macabre aspects of the town, and they even organize the annual town fair. Recently, however, you have noticed that many of the buildings have fallen into disrepair or have been completely abandoned, such as the police station which you recently visited.

You got along with the eldest son of the family since he was around your age and he was nice and told good jokes. However, your meetings with him became more complicated and less frequent as your father had the bright idea of picking petty fights with the Caldwell patriarch. In the end, you and he went off to live your own lives and you lost touch. You look back at the grave and think how impressive it is that the Caldwells have kept their surname for so long.

You keep looking at the epitaphs on each of the graves in this row, even glancing at some of the tombs behind you. The text in some of them is incredibly difficult to make out, however, you reach the conclusion that each tomb has a different date of birth, but they all have something eerily similar that twists your stomach into knots:

All these people died in the year 1302.

You stand up quickly, stumbling a little due to the force you placed on your legs and the wobbly, slippery terrain. That date gives you a feeling of déjà vu. You don't know if you've seen it in a history book or heard about it somewhere, but something is telling you that this number is important.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to concentrate, digging deep into your brain to find that particular date somewhere in the vast library of information stored in your mind. But your train of thought is interrupted as you are startled by the sound of the dilapidated church doors slamming open, echoing against the outside walls of the building.

Taking a few steps back to get some distance between yourself and the entrance, you squint your eyes to see what's inside that may have caused the noise. In real life, your first instinct would have been to run out, get a good distance away from the place, and perhaps call for reinforcements, since setting foot inside the house would most likely mean death. However, you are aware that you are in a kind of lucid dream; the lack of sensation of textures and the feeling of floating, but being aware that this place is not real, are the first indications that you are dreaming.

This does not mean that you want to set foot in the frightening church, but rather you want to keep your sanity and not have your heart explode or burst out of your chest because of some fright from whatever or whoever is roaming inside that building.

You begin to creep slowly towards the building, ready to bolt in the opposite direction if anything jumps out of the church. Details of the interior become clearer as you realize that it is a wreck, which explains some of the damage done to the exterior, such as the holes in the walls and windows.

Pews and tables have been split in half or thrown against the wall, sending small pieces of wood flying all over the room; a simple, quaint chandelier that once hung from the ceiling is now completely smashed to pieces on the floor; pieces of cloth that may have once belonged to mantles are scattered around the room; and the few paintings that once adorned the walls have huge gashes on them.

But what catches your eye is the large object that sits in front of the altar. It's a coffin, one that from the looks of it was built with really cheap wood judging by the prominent scratches and the thin quality of the material. The lid has been busted wide open, the hinges barely holding on to the material by only two tiny and rusty screws, you also notice from the angle that you're standing on that there's no padded cloth inside of the hexagonal box.

It reminds you of the “plague caskets”, a somewhat crude term used in Sleepy Hollow to describe coffins used during plagues or other disasters. In your hometown, they were known to be funerary boxes made of common and cheap wood, such as pine, and their utility was, as their name suggests, an object that could be quickly mass-produced and used to store the bodies of the deceased when catastrophes struck. So, needless to say, your rotten curiosity has once again taken the reigns.

You carefully maneuver your way toward the middle of the room, avoiding the shards of glass and the splinters from the wood, completely forgetting that you can't feel anything. After a bit of tiptoeing through the disaster, you're finally a few steps away from the coffin, a familiar combination of nerves and anger settling deep in your stomach as you begin to lift your head to see who's inside. But you let out a sigh as a sense of relief washes over your body when you realize that the only thing inside is a dusty but very elegant jacket and a dirty handkerchief.

"The body is sitting right here, human," the momentary relief is gone as your entire body jumps at the sound of the voice dripping with malice. You quickly turn around and take up a defensive position, ready to strike whoever has suddenly appeared behind you.

Your heart beats loudly in your ears as your eyes focus on the figure sitting on one of the pews that managed to survive the unknown disaster that swept through the small building. The man sits in a slumped position, his head hanging low as his long red hair spills over his face, obscuring his features, his wrists resting lazily on his knees as his hands sway loosely but gently with the movement of his body, and your eyes widen as you see the pale, long set of nails he sports that could easily tear through flesh.

Before you can even mutter a word, you hear the person grunt in annoyance as his shoulders become tense. "You really gave me a good beating. You did so much damage that it took me way too fucking long to get in touch with you," he murmurs in a low tone, standing up as the bones in his neck crack loudly. You freeze in horror as you feel an angry and murderous aura emanating from the mysterious man, bright purple eyes peeking out of his hair to stare at you.

"Who-" you can barely get the words out as the incredibly tall man slowly approaches, his footsteps echoing in the empty church and filling you with even more fear. How is this possible? You're not easily frightened after all you've been through, but this man's mere presence makes you tremble with terror!

"What do you want?" you finally manage to sputter out some words, your eyes never leaving the man who has finally stopped a few inches away from you. He leans down to stare directly at your face, and you try to shake off your nervousness and put on a brave face. Whoever this person is, he's probably enjoying seeing you tremble with fear, judging by the small but very prominent smirk that adorns his lips. "Not so brave now, are you?"

After a stare-down that lasted a few seconds, but seemed like hours to you, the man lets out a snort before lifting his head and stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets. "Enlighten me, faithful servant of the night, do you not recognize the power that stands before you?" his sudden change to a more 'polite' language gives you whiplash as the fear disappears from your body, replaced by utter confusion. "Am I... supposed to know you?"

You did not think that your genuine question would irritate the man any further, though you're proven wrong as his eyes light up in anger and he opens his mouth to reveal a set of very pointy teeth. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, STUPID HUMAN? You destroy the jewel that gave me life, weaken my host and destroy my glorious form, and yet you don't remember me!?" this man is a lunatic. He turns and stomps over to the pew, harshly taking a seat and making the wood creak under his weight. He reminds you of a child throwing a petty tantrum, especially when he starts mumbling incoherently as he stares daggers at you.

Yet, the mention of a jewel and a host brings forth a surge of very fresh memories, and your eyes widen in pure confusion and surprise as you stare at him. "Are you... some bizarre incarnation of Guddommelig Raseri?" at the mention of the divine beast, the man jumps to his feet, joy lighting up his face as he laughs out loud. "BRAVO! YOU DO HAVE A BRAIN!" he shouts, and you finally understand why you felt so much anger coming from the man. After all, the beast is the pure form of anger and recklessness itself. However, as you narrow your eyes another question pops into your head.

"But aren't you supposed to be... you know, more... beastly?" your hands help you to visualize your question better, using your index fingers to act as fangs as you make a "scary" expression. The man stops his celebration as he once again stuffs his hands in his pockets, and the angry expression returns to his pale face again. "Ha! I would, if it weren't for the fact that your damned powers have torn my mighty form apart!" he spits once more with malice, a scowl on his face.

"I'm getting distracted. I don't want to be here with you for long, so let's get on with the introductions," the man spreads his arms and makes an exaggerated bow, the aura of fury once again invading the walls of the church. "As you already know, I am Guddommelig Raseri, the Divine Beast of Fury and the King of Fire. I welcome you (Y/N) (L/N), to my own memento," the beast says, and you move a little closer out of curiosity. "Memento?" you question with a slight tilt of your head, Raseri nodding with a wide and menacing smile.

"That's right, you goblin. I have summoned you to my memento, a place that only exists in the dream space. We divine beasts have the ability to place our consciousness in our favorite memories, where we can regain our strength and rest," you ignore the man's insult, preferring to concentrate on his explanation of this unusual place. Before you can ask anything else, Raseri continues. "Even though I want to pulverize your damn skull for what you did to me, I have summoned you here because I recognize that you have a power that few humans are lucky enough to wield... and..."

The man makes a disgusted face and sticks out his tongue as if he were going to vomit. After a few seconds of Raseri continuing to make stupid faces, you let out a frustrated sigh and prick the bridge of your nose with your fingers. "Stop your nonsense and spit out what you have to say. I'm tired of your act and your insults," you mutter the last part, completely fed up with the childish and eccentric behavior of this divine beast. The man turns to you with a furious expression, letting out a short sigh of anger. "SHUT UP! This is not easy to admit, much less to someone who is my enemy..."

Sighing in frustration and rubbing his hands roughly over his face, Raseri finally spits out the words stuck in his throat. "I need your help," he mumbles softly, embarrassed and disgusted by what he has just said.

You, on the other hand, are completely surprised. Your eyes widen and a broad smile spreads across your face. ‘Ah, this son of a bitch. He has the balls to ask me for help after he spent every second insulting me.’ You're about to open your mouth to taunt the divine beast, but he silences you, knowing exactly what you're going to do.

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH AND LET ME EXPLAIN!" he shouts, frustrated by your expression, while you just let out a slight laugh, the Cheshire cat grin never leaving your mouth. "Ugh, I was summoned out of the blue a week before your foul presence appeared. But instead of appearing in my beautiful beast form, I possessed a human," he explains with a sigh, closing his eyes as he leans his forehead on two of his fingers. "It's an insult to us to share a body with a human. After all, we have so much power that we could rule the heavens... but this possession... it wasn't something I did voluntarily. Someone forced me to possess that weak human. And I couldn't even fight my captor back for control."

You let out a small gasp of surprise. This was no joke. Ancient texts and legends explain that Divine Beasts are indomitable animals with such power that they can fight and win against all-powerful gods and wipe out humanity in an instant. There's a reason they ruled ancient Twisted Wonderland for so long, and it took millions of men and some good strategy on the part of monster hunters to put them to sleep. Even that didn't stop them, they woke up several times and wreaked havoc, and again it took too much manpower to defeat them.

"Someone with enough power to control a divine beast is terrifying. With that power they can cause too much destruction," you mutter under your breath, your eyes blank as a thousand thoughts run through your head. Raseri nods his head in agreement and continues his story.

"It's good that we at least think alike... Whoever it was, they took so much of my power that the spell you casted practically obliterated my physical form and a good part of my soul. There was hardly any traces of my power left, so when you fell unconscious, I was able to escape the hands of my invisible captor and merge what little was left of me with your soul," upon hearing the beast's declaration, your hands shoot up to cover your chest, near where your heart beats a thousand times an hour. He did what!?

Your blood boils in anger as you want to punch this guy until he stops talking. Raseri, however, raises his hand to rudely silence you. "Don't worry, I won't do anything. Well, I really can't do shit. It already took me too long to bring your consciousness to this memento, I only have a short time left before this disappears completely. Besides, I don't feel like dealing with another stupid human, much less someone like you," he comments with a tired tone. Meanwhile, you frown and cross your arms, wanting to know what you could do in this situation.

"Alright, but why do you want my help? Don't even think you're going to convince me to find you another host or vessel so that you can cause more chaos, you already pissed me off so much," you reply somewhat frustrated, the surprise that the power of a divine beast now resides in your soul not fading from your mind. He simply responds with a short laugh.

"No, you idiot! As I told you, I'm currently too weak to possess a body," he finally lifts his head to look at you with an intense stare. "I want you to stop whoever brought me here. I have a feeling that the bastard will also involve my brothers and sisters soon enough and will hurt them as the captor did to me," he sounds genuinely worried at the mention of his siblings, his expression dropping as dark thoughts most likely plague his mind. "I also feel that this asshole probably stole my power to bring Ulykke here, for what purpose? I don’t know, but I feel that the bastard will soon make his appearance," his voice shakes at the mention of the ultimate divine beast.

There is something strange about Raseri’s statement. He regarded the other divine beasts with warmth and even concern, calling them siblings even though the legends describe that each beast was born from a different source and ritual, but at the mention of the ultimate divine beast he shudders with fear and disgust.

"Is Guddommelig Ulykke also your brother?" you ask quietly, his purple eyes widening in surprise before quickly turning to anger. "That asshole!? No, not in a million years will I call him a brother! That bastard is an omen of death and he won't hesitate to kill us all!... he has no regard for us, we are nothing but stepping stones for him," he whispers the last part, the angry and furious façade slipping away.

You're shocked to find that this divine beast is incredibly complex regarding his thoughts and emotions. It's almost as if he's a human being who was cursed and transformed into a terrifying monster with so much power that he throws away his emotions and uses a trait to instill fear in anyone who crosses his path, wreaking havoc on innocents. Yet, in this dream plain, he reverts to a human form, a thing he considers weak and stupid, but he copies the same traits of those same mortals, spewing his feelings for people he holds dear or he detests. You’re truly mesmerized by Raseri, though he’s a complete asshole.

You approach him with a blank expression, wanting to know more about his plan and what he has in mind. He seems to understand your silent plea and continues to speak. "You will most likely have to fight my siblings soon enough, and while you can control the power of darkness, you will be pulverized if you go up against one of them alone, especially since you are still grasping at straws for your unique power," he explains.

"So when it's time to face one of them, call my divine name and summon the fire that once burned down hundreds of nations and ruled over the world. Rage is a powerful element, and when combined with your unique power... Oh, I shudder in excitement at what magnificent combination of power humanity could witness in that battle!" his eyes shine brightly as he begins to imagine the battle that will take place in the future, a huge smile painted on his face

You, on the other hand, let out a long and exhausted sigh as you rethink the situation. Yeah, that admiration for Raseri’s complexity? Gone. You’re angry since it seems that there's no room to even refute the offer since this divine beast’s power is already deeply embedded inside your soul. From the way he put it, it's a command on his part that you will have to use in battle if you want to preserve your life and not suffer a brutal death at the hands of a divine beast.

'This motherfucker left me no choice in this matter. Thankfully, at least it gives me some comfort that I can protect myself better in the next battle. Though I'll have to tell Malleus of this development, hopefully, I don’t get myself into more trouble,' you think before turning to the young man, wanting to ask him a few more questions about the situation.

But as your eyes focus on his figure, you let out a gasp of surprise as his form begins to blink in and out of reality, his legs becoming more transparent. “What’s happening to you!?” you ask in a panic as your eyes dart around the room when pieces of rubble begin to fall from the ceiling. The room suddenly begins shaking, as if an earthquake had suddenly appeared on this small, isolated island.

The man looks down at his transparent legs and simply smiles and lets out a long breath, his reaction completely the opposite of yours. "Finally! Well, our time is running out. Any last questions, human?" Raseri celebrates, your hatred and anger coming back in full force as you stare at him in utter confusion.

You have thousands of questions fluttering in your head, yet your brain momentarily freezes when you see Raseri's body starts to disappear. At the last moment, you remember all the graves that are outside the church and the date of death engraved in all of them, the year 1302.

"What does your memento represent!? Why is it a graveyard!?" you ask agitated, your brow furrowed as you watch the divine beast's expression turn neutral. Suddenly, a macabre smile spreads across the face of the divine beast, showing its sharp teeth as the man watches you with a sadistic expression.

"Outside there are a total of 876,478 tombstones, you can't see them in their entirety because, as I told you, I was left with little power to project the entire memento. All those people... were the ones I killed when they summoned me for the second time to this world… That is the proof of my power and my nature as a divine beast. Goodbye and good luck (Y/N)," with that last message, Guddommelig Raseri , and his memento vanish from your sleep, leaving you floating in a black sky, confused, dazed, and tired.

You open your eyes once more but this time, rather than being greeted by a void, is the ceiling of your bedroom. It's time to wake up, you must get ready to leave for Sunset Savannah.

━━━━━━◇◆◇━━━━━━

Tag list:

@r0texe @hellokittykuroo @d3nz3lm0rn @alureasoley @kirmalight @xxrabbitcultxx @warcelia @lucian-kinnder @maximumphantomlover @hillichurl @keqingsfavbestie @stardustgreydragon @raimenshko @h0n3ysgh0st @valveii

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astrowaffles · 1 year

Text

spectrum

General Audiences | Fluff, Healing, tiiiny bit of angst at the start

Sometimes, when it’s dark and all you can hear is the TV’s incessant buzzing, Suguru’s lilting Satoruuuuu~ still echoes around the room. It fills the holes in Satoru’s heart, but breaks more open at the same time. The dirty window doesn’t get any cleaner.

Sometimes, when it’s light, and all you can hear is the clack of Megumi putting his wooden train tracks together on the floor next to you, Suguru doesn’t exist for a minute. There are some soap suds on the window pane.

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

OR: the healing that comes with being loved

title from spectrum by florence and the machine

There’s something awful about associating your own name with someone else; worse when it’s someone who’s no longer with you. It’s like knowing you’re your own person, but only being able to see yourself like you’re watching another person through a dirty window. You can see the shadows you cast, hear the words you say, but you don’t think, that’s me. You think, why do they sound so happy?

“Satoru!” Megumi yells, when he wants to play with the plastic animals, but he can’t reach the shelf.

“Satoru…” Tsumiki sighs, when she wants him to buy vegetables instead of ice cream.

“Ugh,” Megumi complains, trying to jam two (obviously wrong) pieces together.

“I’m not sure that’s going to work, kid,” Satoru tells him, gently grabbing his hand before he can damage the toy. “Try a different one.”

Megumi reluctantly does so, pretending not to notice when the two pieces fit together nicely. He quickly moves on to the next one without acknowledging that Satoru was right. Satoru laughs and goes back to staring at the ceiling.

One of the water stains looks a bit like Megumi, with a dark, spiky, sea-urchin hairstyle. Satoru spots Tsumiki too, hair in plaits, looking disgusted at her spot in a cobwebby corner of the ceiling. Satoru contemplates moving the kids out of their broken-down home, but he likes it better than his own apartment. Satoru’s flat doesn’t have any Megumi-shaped water stains, only dust building up under the appliances, and too many unused rooms.

“Satoru,” Megumi says, making Satoru jump.

“Yeah?”

“I can’t find the last bit.”

Satoru looks down again, and sees the track nearly complete, save for an obvious hole – presumably where the missing piece would go. “Did you have it last time you played with them?”

“Yeah. I put it back in the box.”

“Hm.” Satoru digs around in the back of the sofa. “Check under the couch?”

Megumi obediently lies down and stares into the abyss under the furniture for a minute. “Not there.”

“That wasn’t proper looking,” Satoru chides, resigned to doing it himself. He joins Megumi on the floor, lying down on his side and trying to peer into the shadowy realms of under the couch. He reaches a hand in and feels around. “Got it.”

It’s only after he sits back down, and Megumi goes back to his train set, that Satoru realises Megumi had stopped his thoughts before they went too far again. It was an accidental, or unconscious, but maybe that makes it more precious. Satoru’s grateful. He reaches down to ruffle Megumi’s hair.

“Hey!” Megumi shouts, slapping a hand on top of his head to stop Satoru. “Leave my hair alone!”

“Leave his hair alone, Satoru,” Tsumiki echoes from the next room, where she’s painting her nails or stacking her tacky kids’ lip gloss palettes in rainbow order. “You spent a lot of time on that this morning.”

It’s true. Toji’s genes were strong, and Megumi’s flat, straight hair had been bugging Satoru for a long time. Today had been the day he’d snapped and styled it; the only problem was, Satoru didn’t know how to style anything other than his own hair, so now Megumi looked like a hedgehog.

Suguru would have known. Suguru would have thrown the hair gel out of the window.

Or perhaps he wouldn’t have. Perhaps he would have let Satoru make a mess, and laughed when Megumi left the bathroom looking genuinely related to the Gojo clan.

Satoru wishes he was there, either way.

“I like it,” Megumi says stubbornly. Satoru smiles.

“Me too, Megs. I think it could have turned out better, though.”

“No it couldn’t. I like it.”

Well. Maybe Suguru didn’t need to be there, after all.

It takes a lot to raise a child. Even with Tsumiki’s help, who was mature for her age – and oh, how Satoru wishes she wasn’t - Megumi proves to be a challenge.

One week, he insists he’s allergic to all vegetables, and screams and cries when Satoru takes him to the grocery store. They have to hot-foot it out of there before someone calls CPS on Satoru for trying to kill his kid with broccoli. On his ninth birthday, Megumi goes to the zoo, and tries to steal a penguin. Satoru doesn’t notice, until the security scanner at the gates does. On Satoru’s 21st, Megumi ties a big ribbon around him and announces that Satoru can be his own present. In the summer, Satoru gets a call from Megumi’s school; Megumi has been getting into fights, but Satoru couldn’t be prouder.

When Megumi is fourteen, Suguru reappears. That sing-song call of Satoruuuu~ that haunts the cold edges of Satoru’s bright new life, that fond tone that Satoru had thought he was craving to hear curling around his ears.

But all Satoru can think is that it doesn’t sound sharp enough. It doesn’t sound exasperated, or resigned. It doesn’t have that edge of I-hate-you-Satoru-Gojo that Satoru knows so well.

It doesn’t sound at all like Megumi.

It doesn’t sound at all like home.

When Satoru gets back to his apartment that night, he thinks about swiping the dust out from under his appliances. He checks in on Megumi, engrossed in his DS, and ruffles the gel-spiked hair. He looks at the new water stains on the ceiling, from an overrun bath many months ago. One sorta looks like Megumi.

He inspects the window frames, picking out the dead spiders he forgot to pick out last week. He runs an eye over the glass.

“Did you do something to this window?” he calls. Megumi pulls an earphone from his ear.

“I cleaned it, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh.” Satoru looks around, trying to measure the amount of light suddenly spilling into the room. “I can see through it.”

“Duh. That’s what they’re for, Satoru.” Megumi goes back to his game.

Satoru just smiles.

A03 | Exclusives | Tip Me | Commissions

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satosugu #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro tsumiki #jjk gojo #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #a03

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rowanisawriter · 1 year

Note

happy friday!!!! the below from the tarot prompts, with petra/cullen maybe? 😃

the hanged man: suspension, potential, indecision; “I can’t stay here, but I don’t know where to go. I’m stuck.” possible AUs/settings/ideas: prison/ex-convict au, internal conflict

hiiiiiiiii weeks later i finally have this one filled! it took a pretty angsty turn lol

for @dadrunkwriting

wc: 573

In his mind, he was always back at Haven, standing in the training grounds surrounded by recruits and the clanging of dull swords on shields ringing out in the still morning air. The Breach above him gave the sky a green tint and a dreamlike haze to the memory of the time and place when he met her. When he looked down at her the first time they spoke amid a gentle snowfall, he was immediately filled with nostalgia. Even back then, he knew he would miss this moment, this version of her, and this version of himself.

“Cullen?” her voice snaps him back to the present. She’s laying on her side, her shoulder poking out from amidst the heavy sheets on his bed. Her hand trails over his arm. “Where did you go?”

He stares up at the ceiling. Snow drifts softly from the hole in his roof. He focuses on each broken brick, every splintered piece of wood, the branches creeping in and dropping leaves on the floor of his room. He doesn’t look at her. The dim glow of the mark on her hand as it moves slowly up his arm. “I’m here,” he says.

Back to Haven, standing in the snow with his breath visible in the air. The sounds of his recruits training around him, the clash of sword on shield, the Breach looming overhead. Her eyes were blue, and when she looked at him, he felt hopeful.

He doesn’t know what he feels now. Over the war room table, her eyes flash as they fall on his face and he catches a glimpse of green and drops his gaze. A creeping sense of regret pulls him in. He takes a step back and lets Leliana and Josephine take over the meeting.

Her hand is on his arm when they leave the war room, slowing him down. Josephine and Leliana continue down the hall.

“You keep disappearing,” she says. Her eyes flash up and down his face, searching.

“I’m here,” he says.

He holds his breath as she narrows her eyes at him. Her hand on his arm glows. His stomach flips and flops around.

She lets him go. He makes his way down the hall, her footsteps behind him echoing too loudly.

Snow melts under her feet, the green glow of the Fade caught in her hand, dread sinking low into the pit of his stomach when he catches a glimpse of the color bouncing off the powdery white snow on the castle grounds. She finds him in his office, hiding behind a stack of reports, and he flinches when she reaches for him.

“Sometimes, I look at you and it’s like you’re not there,” she says. Her voice is low. She sounds sad.

He keeps his eyes on the report in his hand. His fingers quiver.

“I’m here,” he says.

Haven again, the butterflies in his stomach, the secret smiles and discreet flirting, the way things just made sense between them amid the chaos. Nothing makes sense now, not with a piece of the Fade in her all the time. Her hands are always too warm now. She touches him and he wants to run away.

“Where are you going?” she asks in his bed, illuminated by starlight filtering in from the hole in his roof.

He closes his eyes when he speaks to her, but he can still see green behind his eyelids.

“I’m here.”

#dadwc #cullen rutherford #cullen x trevelyan #I might expand on this

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augustinesletters · 2 years

Text

i miss you even in places we haven’t been to

i walk through the quiet streets of my new school, a temporary home until i move to the city where the noises can hopefully fill the hollowness in my chest from where your place used to be. though now as i walk through this quiet hell of mine, i feel all the emptiness, the absence, the longing and the remembering. i feel as if my mind is in a constant loop of memories and promises you said you’d keep like a broken record. i’m trying to find something in between the lines of the words you left with me and the memories, maybe, there’s something there i still didn’t see. i’m desperately trying to find new pieces of you and hold on to them like that’ll fill the you shaped hole in my heart that you left. i rode the bus, i rode the van and i tried to distract myself with the music, the people, the conversations and yet at the end the conclusion will always draw itself to you. i’m stuck in a loop of memories of you and me, in places we haven’t even been to but you told me we’d be and the places we’ve been to and can’t revisit again. everywhere i go is our place, even in my own home. you’re everywhere.

#an excerpt from a story i'll never write #an excerpt from a book i might write #an excerpt from a book i'll never write #poetry #journal #my diary #blurb

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blue-as-the-languid-skies · 4 months

Text

how do you move on when they still feel like home? how do you find the things that bring you joy when it’s so apparent that there’s this huge gaping hole in your life, right where they used to be?

I am trying. but the feeling of her skin on mine is burned into my memory and my heart aches with every day that passes where she doesn’t walk through the door and into my arms.

we spoke about being friends, because at the time I was desperate to not lose her (she was already gone, I think). but how long will it be before this longing eases up? how long before the weight of this loss isn’t crushing the air out of my lungs, dripping motivation down the drain? I want to want to be happy. and I do, I think. want to.

but it’s really. fucking. hard.

all I can remember is how many times I looked at her and thought “I am so sure that I never want to lose this, to lose you”—and yet here I am. (If id shared that more often, would it have made a difference? did you know how much you were valued and loved?)

I am here and she is not beside me, and I am still struggling to wrap my head around that.

she is so wrapped up in all of the things I love that I am having to find anything that has never passed through her lips in order to experience something without the shadow of her memory. which is also fucking difficult, because it feels like we spoke about everything.

I am trying to learn to live with the reminder instead of avoiding it, but it’s still raw and painful. some of it bittersweet. I remember the joy, too. still, everything comes with the sharp twinge of the memory of us. I want to move forward…I want to find all of the things I love, reclaim some of the things we loved, and fill my life with all of it (and still, I think I will notice her missing).

I’m going through a really hard time with my family now…and fuck, do I miss her more than ever. I am trying not to think about her laugh, or her eyes on mine, or the feeling of her skin…but holding her and being held by her was the most at home I’ve ever felt, the most content I’ve ever been.

but that was a big problem of mine all along, wasn’t it? that she felt more like home than just me in my own skin? i was so lost (not that i knew it at the time), and I made a home with her before I made a home with me.

I am trying to find my home here, but it feels like she took it all with her and left me in the middle of a big, empty house with crumbling walls and a picture of us laying in the corner of the room in in. I am trying to rebuild my space piece by piece, step by step. but most days are spent on my knees in the broken glass and it’s all so fucking hard. I’m really fucking hurting.

I try to sleep in the middle of the bed now to cover up the feeling of emptiness that comes from having her side cold and bare. I have a lot of nightmares right now. I don’t remember most of them but the feelings linger when I wake up from them. I still wake up reaching out for her, sometimes. I think about her when I fall asleep, and I don’t know how to stop doing that because my favorite thing at the end of the day was holding her.

it feels like shit. all of it. I lost the two most important people in my life in a matter of months, and I still feel the whiplash of everything changing. I was thrown to the wind, caught up in the hurricane of it all and I have yet to get both feet back on the ground.

I want to run away. I want to escape to somewhere new, somewhere we’ve never been. I would rather deal with the emptiness that comes with wishing she was there with me than be around all of the things and places we used to love together. I don’t want to step a foot on where we’ve been, because I swear to god I can smell her around me and I am filled with the loss, and love, and memories.

I’m trying to untangle the things I love from the memory of her. I am trying to relearn them as mine and not ours. I’m learning to avoid the things I can’t do that with, and sit with the discomfort for the things I want to be able to enjoy again.

I only went to the farmers market with her…once I think? twice? and I’d gone alone a lot but always tried to get her to go with me…so the first time she went I was over the moon, and that stuck, and now I feel weird and very alone walking through the market. I tried to go too soon after our breakup, and I bought myself (vegan) grilled cheese and cheesecake. and I felt so fucking alone and missed her so intensely that I cried, and had to leave.

but yesterday? I dragged myself, alone, to a jazz thing that I almost backed out of. I felt lonely, at first. but you know what? it was the most fun I’ve had since That Day (the day she told me she was done trying). I made friends with an older lady sitting next to me, and found out that her and her husband recently moved here from Hawaii (I only briefly ached at the reminder of my plans to take Her there and show her my favorite spots). I only thought of Her once (twice, three times), maybe. and that was really nice.

and I caught a glimpse of The Feeling I Am Searching For. something that feels stronger than I am now, something joyful and more at peace. It was nearly intoxicating, finally having a period of time where things didn’t feel so heavy. I have been struggling to keep my head above water for what feels like forever, now (it’s only been a few months? wtf.) and for the first time in a while, I didn’t feel like i was being dragged under. I’m fucking hooked. I caught a glimpse of my life without her and I didn’t want to die or scream and cry, I wanted more. maybe it was only because of the temporary relief from all of the sorrow, but I don’t care because it was like a sip of cool water after burning alive for months in the middle of a desert. it was THERE and I am desperate to find it again, to feel the relief of it running down my throat. I am so tired from this heartbreak, already.

I’m trying to remind myself to go slowly. I know I can’t rush this process…but it fucking sucks to have to sit in it because I don’t feel ready for the next thing, or because I haven’t processed a lot of shit.

I am constantly reminding myself that no one is coming to save me. no one can give me the comfort or support I’m longing for because the kind of comfort and physical connection I’m longing for comes from a romantic partner, or possibly from a very close friend, and they’re both gone. everyone who has been supportive so far has left me feeling like they didn’t have what I was looking for - because they didn’t. I want to be held as close as possible, I want to be hugged and be told that everything will work itself out in the end. I want someone to look me in the eyes and recognize the state I’m in and tell me they’re so sorry I’ve been hurting so fucking much, that they’re sorry I lost someone I really loved. I want them to hold me tighter and tell me that I’ll get through this.

I am trying to learn that those things can come from me, but right now they don’t feel the same. still, I do find stability in knowing that I can choose myself every time. I know now that “forever” is unrealistic, because no one can control the things they never saw coming (or the things they did see coming). the reality is, you are the only one who can save you. you are the only one that can validate your own thoughts and emotions and experiences because you are the only one who has and will experience them.

NO ONE IS COMING TO SAVE YOU.

so you have to learn to be there for yourself - to be enough for yourself. it’s a huge fucking task, and the biggest hill I think I’ll ever climb. through this process, having a limited not-so-great support system has forced me to get through a lot of things alone. and it feels impossible sometimes but I am still here? I am still breathing in spite of everything, possibly just out of the sheer desperation to continue living. as much as every inhale burns my lungs I am learning to exhale the negative shit. I am still fucking here, and I am still breathing, and based on how I felt a few months ago that is fucking impressive. I have kicked and screamed and sobbed my way through it, but I’ve managed to get my head back above the water every time (sometimes with a little help from a friend when it feels too heavy).

I am learning. I’m trying - so fucking hard. things are heavy, and I am sad and touch-starved and filling with longing. it’s hard to be a person who very much wants physical comfort and skin on skin contact when the only person you want it from is no longer in your life (and I refuse to seek it elsewhere cause I think I’d sob and fucking vomit and be left feeling more empty)…I am struggling like I’ve never struggled before. I have never been so lost (or maybe I was lost the entire time??). but I am absolutely set on changing things, fixated on healing and learning…and I guess that’s the best thing I could ask for right now. I am just so tired of hurting. I’m so tired of crying. I am tired of feeling dissociated, and my distress tolerance is at an all time low.

everything is a mess. but at least I am still breathing. I am still fucking breathing, even when it feels impossible and even when it burns.

I fucking miss her.

#personal #02.05.2024 #DBT is fucking exhausting btw #because it turns out doing The Work is really fucking hard #and sometimes it takes energy and willpower that I don’t feel I have #but I know it’s what I need right now so I’m forcing myself through it #I’m getting a lot of good shit from it already it’s just taxing #anyways.#I haven’t jumped off of a bridge so that’s good #moonlight and memories

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waly-10-13 · 1 year

Text

To many lost

It’s hard to understand

the way I’m feeling

I got hole inside my heart

With no cement to fill it

They say the pain of being broken

Is the norm for healing

But how could love that we gave up ever seem appealing

Don’t worry bout it over time I know you’ll start to see it

But like the sun you see me shine but yo I’m still depleting

Ive been defeated

Is the reason that my hearts still bleeding

I’ll never know what could have happened if we kept believing

Love over lust

And baby trust

All of my thoughts are seeping

Wondering how you doing

Wondering if you sleeping

I look at pictures of the both of us when we was cheesing

I know that’s old it fill my soul Up

With some better reason

For being stronger but it’s hard for me to find the pieces

Wishing you weren’t my weakness.

Can you get off my frequence

I need some light to guide me past all of my inner demons

I kinda felt like I was never needed

Tell me why I can’t…

Be….

the man your In love with again or….

Tell me why I can’t….

be rate next to you laying in bed ….

Just tell me why I can’t….

be their for you even just as friends

Well….

I guess I’m out of luck

This….

Is where the story of us ends

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plutoswritingplanet · 2 years

Text

Ptolemaea (Peter Ballard x Female!Reader)

a/n: this one’s dark you guys, based loosely on the song “Ptolemaea” by Ethel Cain

Warnings: NON-CON (for real, proceed with extra caution here), AU-ish, Rainbow Room donging, fluorescent lights being used as a metaphor for a broken mind

Summary: Out of all the days you could’ve chosen to be nosy, it had to be today. And just like that, you fall straight into a spider’s web, one, that has been in the making for quite some time.

There's blood smeared on the walls of the Rainbow Room. And the floor, long lines cut through vibrant colour. There are chairs and tables thrown around the place in disarray, some broken beyond repair, splinters and bended metal reach towards the ceiling in a grotesque display. Children's toys litter the place. There is a toy truck sitting by your foot, one of the wheels is missing and there are tell-tale specs of blood on the yellow plastic. Your eyes shift from a pile to a pile, your mind blank as a canvas, never quite focusing on any object. It takes a lot of strength, trying not to see the corpses.

You've been here before only a handful of times, usually restricted to your office, safe between the shelves filled with medicine and your cold, metal desk. This place, whatever happened here, was out of your limits, and you've learned a long time ago, that the key to surviving working in Hawkins Laboratory, was not asking any questions. And that self-imposed rule worked pretty good for you, that is until you've met Peter.

A guard, like all the others, maybe a bit less muscular. But what distinguished him from the rest, was that he seemed nice. Plain and simple. He would smile at you, ask about your day, even joke with the children sent to your office. He made the place feel a bit less like prison. And before you knew it, you were growing a huge, forbidden crush. Between the coffee breaks spent on talking, or just sitting in comfortable silence. The small touches far from cameras, where his hand would brush yours. Those slivers of contact occupied your brain for days on end.

You were aware, he was manipulating you. After all, you went through years of nursing school, you weren’t dumb. The way he would worm information out of you. How are the patients? What happened at training? How he would offer a smile and a kiss to your cheek for some medicine. You didn't mind, though. Those interactions were harmless, and what hurt could he really cause with some ibuprofen? A small way to indulge yourself in this constricting hell-hole, was all it was. Harmless, no feelings involved.

That is what you thought until this very moment. Because as you look ahead at all the carnage, all the small bodies you've helped before, you remember him telling you, not to come to work today.

- How is it, that everyone chose this particular day not to listen to me? - he wonders out loud, his voice melodic and low.

His hands are bloody, you can see red dripping from his fingertips. There are crimson specs climbing the entire length of his body, some finding purchase on his white trousers, white shirt, some decorate his pale cheekbones, some make his blonde hair matted in places. How is it possible, that he still looks beautiful, surrounded by all this tragedy? It shakes you to the core, how he seems to fit like a puzzle piece between the mutilated bodies. Like he's used to this, like this is normal to him.

Then, he takes the first step towards you, gracefully, like a cat.

Your eyes stay planted firmly on the yellow truck by your shoe. His silhouette moves distorted in the small reflection on the lacquered plastic, and as he comes ever closer. You start to shake.

Your ears train on the soft buzzing of the lamps overhead, slipping mind trying to find anything for purchase. Anything that would drown out the amassing of thoughts threatening to spill at any given moment.

- Look at me.

You can't. You know exactly what depths his blue eyes could pull you into. How they could make you believe anything, for example, that this isn't clearly his fault. How it's all an accident, and the man you grew close to wasn't a child murderer.

- Show me your face - his voice is soft, pleading, like all those times he's asked you to smuggle him some pills, for headaches, he'd say, and kiss your knuckles.

When his fingers touch your chin, you jump. Whole body being wrecked by an overpowering shiver. He doesn't let go, though, pushing your chin up until you're forced to relent. His touch is warm and wet on your skin. You know why, but you can't think about it. The buzzing of the lamps grows louder, mind latching onto it greedily.

- What did you do? - your voice sounds pathetically weak, so close to breaking.

He studies your face for a moment, blue eyes flickering between your scrunched eyebrows, falling momentarily to your trembling lips. Then, his hand moves, fingers rubbing your chin delicately, thumb sneaking up to the corner of your lips, where he presses down hard enough to feel your bottom teeth. Somehow, you don't feel the least bit comforted by his touches. Quite the opposite, it feels like he's checking inventory, before committing to a purchase.

- I did what I had to do, to make us free. - he replies in a low voice, sounding so obvious, like you're stupid for even asking.

To his credit, he doesn't try to hide himself under the disguise of innocence, showing you exactly what he has become. A monster. World swims around you, the reality of what happened, what will happen, hitting you all at once. Finally, you can smell the blood, iron taste invading your mouth with every breath. Nausea reels its ugly head in, and you start to struggle in his grasp. Your arms flain at your sides, weakly grabbing into his wrist, his arm, fingers gripping the white fabric of his shirt.

- All those kids - you're mumbling under your breath, eyes glazed over, unseeing - I've held all those kids, helped them...

Peter doesn't say anything, watching your meltdown with a mix of curiousness and utter indifference. There is a small body on the floor behind him. Shoved up to the wall, laying amongst pieces of broken glass. You'd recognize that lithe form anywhere, and the realization wrenches a sob out of you. Now, Peter is quick to move, his arms encircling you fully, tugging your face into his chest. For a moment, rage overtakes you, but Peter holds you close, taking in your outburst with impossible patience.

- Not her - you sob into his white shirt, as he grips your shoulders - Please, I though you wanted to help her...

Again, he stays silent, placing his chin on the top of your head. This embrace is anything but comforting. His long limbs tighten around you, subduing your spasms. Like a fly caught in a spider's web, you thrash and twitch, until there is no more fight left in you. And he, relentlessly, holds you close, the beating of his heart even, breathing calm and calculated.

- She didn't listen to me - he finally states, words whispered into your hair - This is what happens, when people don't listen to me. But you will, won't you, sweetness? You will listen.

You're not sure how long you two stay in this position. It must've been a while, because he lets you go only when you finally stop crying. When your wrecking sobs subside, so does everything around you. There's only the buzzing of the fluorescent lights, nothing else, both around you, and inside. What else is there to do?

Everyone you cared about is dead. Everyone except for him, your damnation incarnate.

- We were supposed to escape - he speaks, but you can barely hear him, there's someone's blood on your chin - All three of us. Make the world bend to our will, finally free from this place.

Pretty words whispered by pretty lips into the crown of your head. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see someone's small hand, sticking lifelessly out of the rubble. The buzzing grows stronger in your ears.

- But this is alright as well - he finally concludes, hands finding their place on your shoulders.

He leans back to look at you, and you're shocked to find something so utterly human behind his blue eyes. His expression is hopeful, innocent even, in the way he smiles at your blank stare.

You find there's no point in fighting. There's no one to fight for anymore. Eleven, the sweet girl, lies lifelessly behind him, and you don't find yourself worth the hussle of trying to get out. So, you stay, frozen by fear. The fear men like him bring upon a woman like you.

- I know, you're just a human - you try to ignore the implications of his words.

You're getting quite good at this. Ignoring. Eleven's leg is bended unnaturally, broken calf staring at you from behind his back.

Peter raises his finger, still coated in thick blood that begins to dry into a flaky mess. Despite your best efforts, you flinch, when he pushes one digit into your cheek, so hard, the gums on the other side start to ache. Then, mesmerized by his own art, he drags the blood across your face, down to your jaw.

- But I can protect you now - he says it like a vow, and in any other case, it would feel reassuring, romantic maybe, if you'd let yourself indulge in this fantasy.

- I can take care of you - his voice dips low in his throat, and you watch his Adam's apple move under pale skin.

It doesn't fully register in your brain, what is about to happen. That is until you see him sink down to his knees, his hands sliding the length of your body, stopping at your waist, where he fists the material of your skirt.

- Wait - your voice is weak and hoarse, mixing with the buzzing of the lamps in a cacophony of sounds - Not here...

Peter sees you, sees your mouth open, and yet, he remains indifferent, as he leans forward. Your whole body tenses, when his pink lips make contact with your lower abdomen, hidden from him behind layers of fabric. Despite that, you can feel him, the warmth eminating from his body in waves.

- Let me take care of you - he whispers into the flesh of your thigh.

Your body shakes, when he reaches around your hips, fingers finding the small zipper on your skirt, undoing it slowly, before dragging the garment down. His slender hands abandon your hips, in favor of massaging your legs. Idle fingers press down gently, squeezing your muscles, one after the other, until he reaches your calves.

Then, showing no mercy to your fragile mind, he looks up at you, capturing your gaze in an iron hold of his blue eyes. You can't look away, never could when he looked at you like that, pupils blown wide, mouth slightly open. His eyebrows raise in tandem with his hands, climbing their way up your legs.

Gently, as if handling a cracked glass, he begins to take off your thights. The stretchy fabric rolls easily off your skin, and when it reaches the floor, he helps you lift your feet to step out of them.

Your shoes are placed neatly to the side, along the nylon stockings. He even takes the time to unroll them, and fold them with care, placing them on the already folded skirt. And every second he spends indulging these small rituals, you feel yourself grow weak with anticipation.

It makes you sick to your stomach, the way your guts twist at the image of him, down on his knees handling your belongings with such patience and care. Especially given the circumstances of those actions.

Finally, he refocuses on you, eyes lingering on your underwear just long enough to make you understand, what's going to happen next. To your credit, your first reaction to him, leaning in closer, is to reach forward. You're not sure for what, if it's to push him away or to push him closer, but he doesn't let you decide on either. Your fingers barely touch his hair, and his hand seizes your wrist, grip hard enough for you to understand the warning. Then, he looks up, plants a chaste kiss to your knuckles, and lets go.

His other hand starts to kneed your thigh, your hips, until you're swaying in place. Then, with one final look, he closes in, kissing your clothed sex without as much as a warning.

The sensation feels foreign, subdued by cotton and lace. It's a small figment of what is about to happen, another shot at manipulating you right where he wants you. You congratulate yourself in your mind, there's still something of you left inside.

Breaking away after making a considerable wet patch, Peter finally settles for the main course, nails dragging across your skin as he pulls down your panties. He's much less careful with them, stuffing the fabric into one of your shoes. Then, he turns back to you, looking up with those baby-blues of his.

You want to look away, you really do, but your efforts are futile, as seems to be the theme of today.

- Peter - last ditched effort, swallowed, like all your other words by the ever-present buzzing of the lamps.

His mouth is on you in record speed, hands manuvering your body to his liking. He starts slow, licking long stripes, spreading your legs further apart.

Then, when you let out your first involuntary moan, he changes tactics, circling between fast and sharp licks at your clit, and long sensual ones, that make your head swim. Your hand flies out to his head, clawing at his scalp and waves of pleasure make your body rock in place.

It's too much, the feeling of his fingers digging into your flesh, his mouth on you, and that goddamned buzzing. Your legs start to tremble, balance leaving you in an act of betrayal. Before you can truly let yourself get swallowed by bliss, you fall, knees bucking under you, sending you forward.

Peter catches you immediately, chin glistening and eyes wild. He looks over you, searching for anything out of place, the expression on his face so close to caring, you almost believe him.

- I can't - you pant out, words slurred - I can't stand on my own.

- My silly girl - he huffs out, lips pulling into a smile that is anything but comforting.

You know that winning sparkle in his eyes just sealed your demise. This is you admission, after all, that he does need to take care of you, that you are too fragile of a human. For a brief moment you wonder, if this was planned as well, perhaps made specifically to convince you of his devotion.

His arms hold you tight, as he helps you kneel next to him, the cold floor grounding you in reality. This should be enough, you think, enough of a demonstration.

You think wrong, and Peter straightens himself before you, wiping his chin with the outside of his palm. Then, he dives down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that nearly chokes the breath out of your lungs. His tongue worms its way into your mouth, and you moan at the taste of your own arousal.

His hand dips down, between your legs, the intrusion making you jump in place. He tests your wetness with his fingers, rubbing your folds until he lets out a satisfied hum. With a gasp, you feel him push you down, carelessly, onto the cold, hard floor.

Your body obeys, boneless, spread out in the middle of the room. In the middle of the carnage. The fluorescent lights stare at you, their buzzing hurting your ears and stabbing your brain. In any other scenario, you would've heard the sound of a belt buckle being undone. Such awareness requires too much sanity, and you're on a rather short supply as of late. Then, he appears, looming over you like a shadow. His face is gentle, despite the sharp features, surrounded by a halo of blonde hair.

It takes your breath away, him on top of you. You've imagined this exact moment many times, during moments spent alone in your room, but never like this. Never polluted by the reality of the situation you're in. Because the man above you isn't the sweet Peter from your dreams. He's a monster. And you're not laying in the privacy of your bedroom. Your in the Rainbow room, where the smell of blood lingers.

As if reading your thoughts, he leans down and kisses your cheek. Then, nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. His lips suck gently right behind your ear, and the sensation makes your body writhe beneath him.

- I won't hurt you - he whispers into your shoulder.

Liar, you think, and scrunch your eyes, as he enters you smoothly. There's a bit of a painful stretch at first, your muscles tensing, heart beating faster. Soon enough, the unpleasant feeling subsides, leaving you with a sensation of fullness. Still, he doesn't move, instead, kissing your forehead until your eyebrows relax.

- Open your eyes, sweetness - he pleads, you've heard this tone of voice before, and just like then, it works.

The light blinds you, as you force yourself to look at him, at his angelic face focused solely on you. Only then does he start moving, slow and deep, enough to make your back arch on the floor. Then, when he deems you ready, he picks up the pace to his liking.

Your hands flail at your sides, desperately trying to find something they can hold on to. You opt for his shoulders, nails digging into his soft skin with every thrust. It feels good, jolts of electrifying pleasure wrench staccato moans from your throat.

Yet, the buzzing of the lamps persists, and as you steadily climb towards your own peak, your head feels like it's about to explode. It's too much, everything is too much. The electric sound filling your ears, the blood, the weight of his body moving on top of yours.

You close your eyes again, and refuse to open them, despite his hand coming up to grip your chin.

- Open your eyes - now there's no trace of that gentleness from before in his voice.

- The light - you hiss out, teeth rattling as his hips slam into yours with little consideration - Hurts. Make it stop.

His other hand bites into the meat of your thigh, pulling it higher, over his waist. The new angle nearly makes you scream, the tenstion in your muscles reasy to snap at any moment.

- Open - he forces out through his teeth.

You're not going to risk his rage, so you do. You open your eyes and hiss at the light, the buzzing attacking your ears tenfold. The grip on your chin shifts, as he positions you, so you cannoth look away from him.

Then, his other hand reaches back, towards the ceiling, fingers sprawled in a grotesque display. You yelp as the lamps shatter, all at once, sparks flying.

The room falls into darkness, blessed silence washing over your senses. And in that darkness, you finally let go, unraveling with a voicless scream, one, he immediately dives down to swallow whole. He lets you ride your high, never letting go, until finally stuttering in his pace, and bringing himself impossibly closer. Then, everything stills.

You're too tired, too notice when he removes himself out of you. Beads of sweat fall from your forehead and mix with tears that appeared, you're not sure when. Soon, you will notice the ache lying on a hard floor unavoidably causes, but for now, you allow yourself to rest.

You've had enough.

Peter shifts his weight off of you, but you can still feel his presence nearby. His body is hot, as he lies down next to you, listening to your heavy breathing. One arm reaches over, tugging your messy hair behind your ear.

- I am never letting you go - a promise and a threat, one you will worry about later.

After all, despite his wrong doings, despite the unforgivable things hanging over both your heads like an executioners axe, he did make it stop. What more could you ask from a man like him?

#peter ballard x reader #peter ballard #stranger things #vecna x reader #vecna stranger things #001 x reader #henry creel x reader #001 stramger things #henry creel #my writing #tw: dark fic #killed eleven for my smut fic guys happy pride

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supernaturalgirl20 · 2 years

Text

Clueless

Pairings: Din Djarin x f!reader

Warnings: Fluff, mutual pining, Din being clueless, Established sexual relationship, live sick idiots, mild reference to smut.

A/N: req by @sturkillerbase for idiots in love. “You’re so cute. What did you just say? I said you look like a boot.”

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

Din couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t think, he couldn’t focus. He felt hot under all that beskar and he was vaguely aware that Cara was talking to him - rambling on about staying here, settling down. Why is that when she said that, all he could think about was you.

You, the mechanic he had taken on almost a year ago. You, who had broken down all his walls and pierced him straight in the heart. You, whose hands knew exactly where to touch to comfort him. You, who came along and filled that missing piece of his puzzle. You, who was currently playing with Grogu and the other children - putting thoughts of you holding a baby of your own in his head, his baby.

“If you stare longer, you’ll burn a hole into the side of her head.” He fell forward slightly, startled by what Cara had said before quickly recovering.

“What are you talking about?”

She smiled up at him - that sly smirk she always has around him - her eyebrow quirked. “The only person you're fooling is yourself, Mando. Plain as day that you love her.” He’s just as bad as she is. She stood then, coming to stand beside him - her gaze drifting over to you.

“You better tell her before someone else snaps her up,” she says with a tilt of her head in your direction. Din follows her line of sight to find one of the local men talking to you. His hand reaches out for you and touches your arm and you laugh at whatever he’s said. It’s like a knife has been thrust into his gut - twisting around for extra effect.

You turn then - as if you can feel the heat of his gaze - and catch him staring. A sweet smile spreads across your face and you wave at him. Din clenches his fist as a wave of anger or jealousy - he’s not quite sure - washes over him. I can’t watch this. He moves away from Cara and storms off, leaving you staring after him with a confused look on your face. Your eyes meet Cara’s and she just shrugs before walking off. Maker, these two love sick idiots.

***

Sometime later, Din arrives back at the hut - having spent most of the day avoiding you - to find you dressed in a skimpy dress. He’s frozen in the doorway at the sight of you - dress clinging to the curve of your breast, flowing out at the waist. You look ethereal.

There’s a slit in the dress that he hadn’t noticed until you move. He can see the skin of your leg all the way up to your thigh and it’s making it impossible to breathe. Suddenly, the beskar armour weighs heavy on his shoulders - all he wants to do is reach out and touch you. Really touch you. Without the armour, without the gloves - without the barrier between you both.

“Din! Are you ok? You’ve been gone all day, Grogu was upset he couldn’t find you.” You're standing directly in front of him now and he lets his eyes roam over you - hidden behind the safety of the visor. He can feel the heat coming off you - searing into his skin. Your scent - apples, cinnamon and something indescribably you - fills his nose from under the helmet and his brain short circuits.

“You’re cute!” He freezes. Did I say that out loud?

“What did you say?” You say with a soft smile on your face. You know exactly what he said.

“I said you look like a boot.” Trying not to laugh, you reach out to touch his arm but before you can - he pushes past you making his way behind the curtain separating your shared space. You stare at the space he occupied seconds ago, mind reeling. Does he feel the same way? Turning to follow him you're interrupted by Omera and Cara entering the hut.

“Ready to dance and get drunk on spotcha?” Cara says as she wiggles her hips. They both stand staring at you, waiting for a response. “Eh..can you give us a minute?”

They share a look before turning back to you and nodding. “Can you take Grogu?”

“Sure”, Omera says as she bends down to pick him up. Once they leave you turn towards the curtain, heart racing. I need to know.

***

Din paced the length of the small space he occupied - embarrassment flooding his veins. Dank ferrek!

He’s ruined things now, he knows he has. You’ll think he’s an idiot and leave. Everyone leaves. The only one consistent thing in his life is Grogu and he doesn’t have much of a choice. I need to get out of this. Din begins pulling off his armour - piece by piece - throwing it on the ground haphazardly. He hears Cara and Omera talking and he figures you left for the celebration. It’s safe!

With both hands on either side of his helmet; he lifts it off. Holding it in his hands, he stands there and stares into the visor - his face reflected back at him. The mandalorians are his family, took him in when he was most alone in the world - he owes them his life. They are also his curse. Living by a strict creed that allows no one to see his face, not even the ones he loves.

You can never get too close. How could you when there is a barrier of beskar between you both. In the last couple of months he’s longed to find a peaceful planet somewhere in the galaxy - quite like Sorgan - and settle down with you and Grogu. Maybe you’ll agree to marry him and you can have a child of your own. She’ll never love you.

“Oh Din I’m…I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean…”

Din turns towards your voice to find you w or h your back turned away from him and your hand covering your eyes. She saw my face! You have two options here, kill or marry.

Din tosses his helmet. The loud thud as it hits the floor echoes throughout the hut. He moves toward you now, slow and steady - like any quick movements will spook you. He reaches out to touch you and his heart races upon contact. He loves the feel of your warmth under his touch. Searing into his skin.

“Mesh’la, it’s ok.”

“No! No, I made you break your creed. I’ve ruined everything Din. I’m sorry…so sorry,” you say with a sob. He turns you around and places his hands gently on your cheeks.

“Mesh’la please, look at me.”

“No. I can’t. I…I won’t. I can leave…I won’t tell anyone what I saw…please don’t kill me.”

His heart clenches tight. I could never kill you. “I won’t kill you. I can’t, even if I wanted to. I…I love you Y/N and I want you to see my face properly, so please look. He pulls your hands away but your eyes are shut tight. “You can’t be a Mandalorian anymore Din, I made you….I’ve ruined it all…”

“I can still be a Mandalorian. I love you and I want you to see my face. I want to give you that. Give you all of me. Marry me?” He whispers beside your ear.

Slowly you open your eyes and you're met with the most beautiful brown eyes you’ve ever seen. You take him in. His hazel eyes, his brown hair that’s slightly dishevelled from the helmet and the light facial hair he has along his jaw. He was beautiful.

“Will you marry me?” Your eyes search his, and you see the sincerity in his gaze. A smile spreads over your face.

“I love you too Din. I have for a long time. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Din reaches down and his lips touch yours in a soft kiss. A moan slips past your lips and he devours it with his. Pulling back he leans his head against yours - his eyes gazing into yours. “Just repeat after me. Mhi solus tome, Mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde”

You repeat what he says word for word and then he reaches into his back pocket and places a ring of beskar into your finger. “What did we say?” Din smiles - his eyes glued to the ring, his ring, adorning your finger before looking straight at you.

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors. They are mandalorian vows.”

“So we’re married now? That was easy.” He chuckles before his lips meet yours again in a heated kiss. His hands begin to roam a little and you can feel him harden against you. “Maybe we should start working on those warriors?”

A growl emanates from deep within his chest as he grabs your ass tight, pulling you close. “How long do you think we have?”

“Hmm, I’d say maybe an hour before Cara comes to find us.”

“I can work with that.”

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @athalien @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy

Din djarin: @paulalikestuff @anaaaispunk @hb8301 @djarinslove @browneyes-issac @dins-cyare @agingerindenial @afootnoteinyourhappiness @stevie75 @almaeunice @readsalot73

#pedro pascal #din djarin x fem!reader #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin x f!reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin imagine

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