#soul crash comic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

diejager · 2 months

Note

The writing where reader died, what happens if they were revived as a wraith like Ghost? There's probs going to have a lot of fluff and a small angst here and there. But I mostly wanna read your writings!! It's cus' I can't get enough, and kept rereading it all the time

Cw: pain, death, turning, cannibalism, implied torture, implied blood and gore, angst, fluff, hunger, tell me if I missed any. We’re going to forget how you previously died, cuz @bluegiragi gave us more info about wraiths and I just love where the comic is going.

What a cruel joke, irony hitting him in the face the same way his abrupt shift hurt him, an apathetic slap to the face that left him bloody and in shock the way he left Roba on his dying breath. Simon didn’t know what was crueler, the knowledge that you were tortured and buried alive, left to die alone for the sins of his own making and the wrath of another, or that you were left to die a slow and excruciating death after being beaten half to death, expected to lose your resolve solely on the fact that you were a medic, and turned into the monster he was.

Neither your captor nor death had been merciful, much less the reaper, a collector of wandering souls and lost ghosts, waiting their turn to cross the river with a small token for the afterlife. Be it Hermes, the messenger and the carrier of souls, Thanatos the reaper and collector, Anubis - or Inpu, however people called him - the guide, Ankou the shadow, Sgàthach the warrior, or Freyja and Fólkvangr; you weren’t granted the soft embrace of a calm death, but the cruel rejection of it, forced back into life and abandoned by sweet sleep.

He remembered his own, the painful pull of his back, the crazed smoke that filled his mind with a thirst for blood and revenge, the crack and ugly break of his bode, reshaping his body and organs dyed dark, dying and pained. He remembered well the pain of it like it was yesterday, having to crawl out of the shallow grave on his own and discover the carnage he left behind, stained in his and Price’s blood. He was reborn.

And so were you, crying and sobbing, your skin scarred beyond thinking and mind in shambles of broken faith and abandoned affection. He knew first hand how it felt, the burn and agony of it, the hunger and ache that plagued you like an undying pestilence, darker than the one that ripped through Europe in the fourteenth century and more devastating than the Justinian’s. He’d been too late, too slow to help you through the first ripple of shock and fear once you’d quenched your thirst, staunching it like you would a wound. He let you fester in your sorrow and hunger, left you without a guide or caretaker until you ravaged the area, leaving only blood and rubble in your devastation.

But he’s here now, picking you up from the mess you found yourself in, a storm of smoke and thick black that you hid yourself in, to hide the monster you had become. He might not be proud of who he’s become - much like you - but he grew into it, lived his life as one, and he would be here to help you through the process of it. Where he wished he had a helping hand, you would have his. He would help you with your hunger, the famine that grew the more you left it alone, filling your being with bodies he’d gather up for you to absorb. He would teach you how to control the smoke - the sinews of your being, the consistence of it forming your figure - and build from it, stopping yourself from phasing to and from it, staying as a physical manifestation of it rather than darkness itself.

Where he felt lost and confused, alone and wishing for a swift end, you wouldn’t, he made sure to stay, to be the pillar of support for you whenever you crashed, his body covering yours to stop you from vanishing in a fit of tears. Where he spent time hating himself, demeaning the cannibalism he became, you wouldn’t, he’d rather send himself to hell than let you think you were the lowest of the low, a human eating another. And where he was cruel to himself when death had renounced him, you wouldn’t, he’d whisper the sweetest words, praises, compliments, affection and guidance, he would make sure you wouldn’t drown alone like he did years ago. He loved you too much to let that happen.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #monster 141 au #monster cod au #monster 141 #wraith!reader #tw death #ansgt #fluff #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #tw: torture

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demilypyro · 11 months

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Hello, who are you??? You popped up on my feed and now you're all I see (may or may not be my own fault). You seem really cool but ya, I'm curious!

My name is Emily, I'm a trans woman from the Netherlands. I'm in my 20s and I like videogames, manga and comic books.

I studied game design in college and I'm now working as a self-employed Twitch streamer. Over there I'm a vtuber under the name Demily Pyro; you'll often see me post clips and links related to streams.

I'm 186 cm tall, I like rock music, I'm part Persian on my dad's side, my favorite colour is red, I'm a cat person, I like to ride my bicycle, and I can't swim because of a leg disability.

As far as I can tell I'm biromantic and demisexual, but I'm still kinda figuring that stuff out as I go. I started my transition in 2018, I'm now on my fourth year of hormone therapy, and I recently underwent bottom surgery. I was also diagnosed with autism and ADHD at an early age.

My favorite game franchises are Monster Hunter, Crash Bandicoot, Pokémon and Dark Souls. My Twitch viewers know me as a completionist with a strong understanding of game mechanics, and I like to sing, though I'm kind of insecure about my voice.

I hope that's enough info.

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mrcavill88 · 10 months

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Dangerous desires

Pairing: August Walker x Male reader

Summary: August Walker is known for his dangerous tendencies. But a certain boy sparked a feeling of lust inside his dark soul, what's weird though, he just met the boy. Ultimately, it was up to him to do anything he could to make him his precious little boy. Besides, how bad could it be? (Answer: pretty bad)

Word count: 1.5k+

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, pet names "little boy, baby, etc", daddy kink, size difference (August is large and masculine, you're cute and petite, implications of sex toys, deep kissing, skin sucking/biting, slapping, nipple play, spanking, oral sex, face fucking, fingering, cum control, rimming, unprotected sex, August is very possessive, cuddling?

"What the hell?" you thought as you awakened from a deep slumber, feeling a throbbing pain on the side of your head. It's obvious what's going on as you observe your surroundings. You lay on an expensive linen couch noticing the ivory walls, adorned with elegant paintings and a surprising amount of, special toys.

It took a while for you to fully grasp the fact that you've been taken, not long before a daunting figure walks in. A large man, who looked to be around 6 feet tall, with rippling biceps, comically large shoulders, and a broad chest stood before you with a seemingly black expression, but what you noticed? The furry little mustache that lay beneath his nose made him look a little strange, but you couldn't help but blush at his masculine and chiseled features.

"Oh what a surprise! Mr. Walker didn't expect to see a cute little baby in his house!" His kind and gentle tone was a bit unsettling as his massive figure started getting closer to you, cornered in the couch. You tried to back away as August got really close to you. “Oh baby, why are you trying to avoid daddy? You know we need each other, come with me baby. Let me make us feel good” he said, rubbing your thigh. “W-who are you? Why are you doing this to me?” You said trying to pry the man off of your leg.

“Oh my sweet boy, you’re so adorable. You really don’t remember me? From the art expo?”

That’s when it all made sense.

You did go to the art expo and remembered accidentally bumping into August in a hurry, little did you know that very move put you in this place. All you did was stare into his dark blue eyes hoping that he would come to his senses. Did it work? No.

All of a sudden, a pair of chapstick tinted lips crashed onto yours, causing you to fall back onto the couch. His tongue racing in your mouth stealing every bit of submission out of your mouth. You moaned and whined loudly as August continued to kiss and lick your lips. “Oh you taste so fucking good baby, I’m gonna have a great time with you!” His words rushed and hasty as he started to suck on your neck making more unholy noises leave your mouth. His teeth sinking into your neck marking his territory. “You’re mine now baby, understand?” All you did was whimper in response to the man.

The kiss continued to deepen for about 5 minutes, by the time he pulled out you were a moaning and panting mess. “But a beautiful thing like you really should show off his beauty right?” He said as he started stripping you of your clothes. You watched as your favorite hoodie and shorts were ripped off your body and thrown onto the floor, leaving you completely naked except for a pair of white undies.

“My goodness baby! What a beautiful little thing you are! But daddy has something that’ll make his boy shine!” He said, patting your head, pulling out the smallest and most useless bra and thong set you’ve ever seen. Practically strings of fabric being held together. He handed it to you with an enthusiastic expression, hoping you wouldn’t have any resistance to this. Your response, however, did thoroughly disappoint him.

“August, I don’t really wanna wear this, it’s too tiny” you said trying to persuade him. “Oh? Does the little boy think he can boss around daddy? And don’t you dare call me August, I’m daddy not August! And you will wear the two piece if you don’t wanna get hurt, so I advise you do baby” he said gripping your shoulder. In a state of fear, you started changing into the two piece with a scarlet color on your face. Feeling exposed in front of August.

“There, happy?” You said in a fit of anger and attitude. *SLAP* “Don’t you dare talk to daddy like that! I’m doing this for you baby, don’t play that shit with me baby!” You held your face, surprised that August would hit you, thinking he was gentle. “Anyways” August said as he began to suck and bite your neck again, more moans leaving your mouth.

He moved down from your neck onto your chest. Forcing the bra off your torso and sucking and teasing your nipples. Moans and whines escaping your mouth as August licked and sucked on your sensitive nipples. “Fuck daddy! Uh!” You moaned as augusts tongue was sliding around your chest, your body quivering at Augusts aggressive touch. “Oh daddy loves what he hears kitten, you’re so good for me” he said as eventually let out, pinching your nipples leaving them red and wet.

“You’re such an obedient little boy aren’t you! Now, time for daddy’s present to his favorite boy. Kneel”. Absolutely desperate for more, you kneeled completely impatient for august to unleash his meat.

August unbuckled his trousers and, oh! Pops out the largest cock you’ve ever seen, albeit the first one you’ve ever seen. It looked to be 9 inches and really thick. “Suck” he demanded as you shoved his colossal dick down your throat. You could only take about 5 inches as drool spilled from your mouth while it was completely occupied with Augusts dick.

“F-fuck b-aby, you suck dick so f-fucking good!” Then came the thrusts, as august began fucking your face. You licked his tip, sending even more pleasure through the larger man’s body as he continued thrusting into your mouth.

“H-hey! W-who said you could do that y-you naughty b-boy! Uh fuck baby! Daddy n-needs to teach you a lesson” August said as he aggressively pulled out of you, putting his dick, soaked in pre-cum and drool, back in his boxers.

“Get on my lap, daddy needs to teach his naughty little boy a lesson!” August pointed to his crotch, motioning you to sit in it. Wanting to stir the pot, you tried to run out the door, still naked with nothing but tiny straps on your body. “Oh no you don’t! Get back here baby!” He grabbed you and forced you on his lap.

“Now baby, daddy hates to do this to his little baby but when daddy’s baby is acting up, discipline is required” he said as he violently swatted your right cheek. A scream escaped your mouth as his large hand left a red mark on your ass, the mix of pain and pleasure left you wanting more. “Oh no you don’t” he said as he cupped your mouth with his hand. “I need you to be on your best behavior, ok baby? I know it hurts but daddy is doing it so you don’t misbehave” continuing to spank you. At spank 30, your cheeks are red as a ripening tomato, tears staining your cheeks from the sting.

“Oh baby! Daddy is so sorry for hurting you, but since you’ve been a good boy, daddy’s gonna give you the best gift ever!” He said tying your arms together above your head. “Open up.” His fingers started slowly entering your hole, sliding in and out of them as the most sickening moans left your body. “Daddy!” you whined as August started inserting two, then three fingers into your hole. The amalgam of pleasure and pain completely consumed your body as he continued to finger fuck you.

“Daddy! I’m gonna cum! Please daddy, can I cum?” You begged the man, feeling extremely weak and fragile in the moment. “Oh no baby, let daddy go for a bit longer, you can do it baby! I’m sure of it” he said as he bit your nipple.

You lost it.

Ropes of cum shooting out from your cock, twitching and shaking as August continued to pleasure you. “Baby… Daddy is quite disappointed you couldn’t control yourself, but you’re still my good boy. Time for your reward!” he said as flipped you over, breaking your bonds, and grabbed your waist, ready to fuck you. He teased your tight and sensitive hole with his cock, leaving you whining and moaning, craving more from the man.

Then, *BAM* August started thrusting inside you, absolutely violating your hole. You moaned and screamed as his thrusts grew stronger by the second, ready to bust at any minute. “Daddy! Ugh daddy! I love when you fill me up daddy! Ugh! Fuck!” you moaned as he continued fucking you, your conscious slowly starting to dissipate at Augusts aggression. “Oh baby! I know you were the one! You’re better than any girl I’ve ever banged fuck baby!” “Daddy! I’m gonna cum! Please daddy let me cum!” you whined as Augusts dick started slamming up and down against your prostate.

You felt August starting to get sloppier and sloppier with each thrust, his brain completely wrapped with pleasure. You were both in heaven, hungry for what could come next. “C-cum with me baby” he whined as you both unleashed your loads, his cum painting your walls, leaving nothing untouched. He collapsed on top of you, body soaked in sweat and cum. The intimidating man suddenly wrapped his arms around you and teased your nipples.

“That was so much fun baby, you’re so perfect. Can daddy give you a kiss?” You nodded as the man gave you the most perfect kiss, one not like before, but a kiss of true love, something you felt for the man who had just fucked the shit out of you.

THE END

#henry cavill #henry cavill x male reader #henry cavill x y/n #smut #18+ only #fanfic #gay

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diwatopia · 11 months

Text

★ cruel ; neteyam

synopsis. as of recently, neteyam's been slipping away. attempting to get to the bottom of his negligence towards you, he spews harsh words that begin to form cracks within your relationship. will neteyam be able to fix this despite being the cause of your pain?

info. angst / no comfort, gn!na'vi!reader, 1135 words

warnings. arguing, yelling, outta pocket teyam (boo 🍅), one use of y/n, crying, grammatical errors, based off "queen elizabeth" fight scene :P

neteyam has been distant.

physically, he's there, but mentally — he's lightyears away from you.

it hasn't always been like this though. during the beginning of your courtship, neteyam was nothing short of attentive and caring. he was everything you wanted in a lover but as of recently, he slowly began drifting away from you. at this point, he's been more of an acquaintance than a mate.

and if you were being honest, you couldn't help but find the situation slightly comical. your mind fills itself to the brim with memories of falling so deeply in love with one another, but now — now, he's just gone.

"you never have to hide from me," he told you.

his words were doused in honey, every single insecurity that plague your mind began melting away. he wanted to know the real you. not the village's tskarem, not the "golden child" title that the elders bestowed upon you.

he wanted to know you.

he wanted to drown himself in your scent, burn the feeling of your body next to his, he wanted to know the ins and outs of your soul.

"i am just neteyam when we are together. not the clan's future olo'ekytan, not the successor of my father. i am simple and plain neteyam."

the memory brings the smallest of smiles to your lips, yet it does nothing to ease the surge of loneliness that consumes you, your heart. it keeps you up at night, eyes wide open as you replay everything that had let up to this point of your relationship. you were beyond tired having to play this game with him, so you decided to bite the bullet and ask him.

"neteyam are you here — oh, kiri!" you speak out, sending her a sweet smile her way. she returns the gesture, "hi, y/n! he's near the shooting range." she states simply, going back to her weaving.

you thank her before scurrying away. luckily, he wasn't too far and you were able to catch up with him. your hands nervously tremble, wringing themselves out in hopes to stop the shakiness. your strides are slow, but with a few encouraging words, you will yourself to walk up to him.

as if on cue, he turns around and catches you staring. his eyes catch you off guard, sunflower-hued orbs swirling with something you can't seem to put your finger on.

"hey..." you say, tone unsure. the sunlight sparkles, flashing through tiny openings of leaves as they sway in the wind. the mossy floor quiets your footsteps as you get closer, standing next to him wordlessly.

he parrots your greeting before going back to his previous task. he draws his bow, eyeing the target that stares back at him. "have you been well?" you ask hopefully. he shrugs, muttering something about being busy and that he's fine. your lips purse at the lack of communication on his end.

"okay, stop. what is wrong with you?" you ask sternly. your eyebrows scrunch in displeasure, subtly creating space between you and him by taking a step sideways. he looks back at you, surprised at the sudden fierceness to your voice.

he sends you a quizzical look as if he genuinely had no clue what you were hinting at, "i do not know what you are talking about." he states it as if it were a fact.

you roll your eyes at his deflection, crossing your arms irritably. "do not play this game with me," you scoff, sounding like a parent scolding their child. neteyam's eyes downcast shamefully towards the bow in his hands, the seriousness of the situation beginning to crash down on him.

"look, i know you have been having a hard time with your duties, but 'teyam, i'm here for you. there is no need to run away from me, from us —"

"there is no 'us'," he cuts you off, not sparing you a single glance. "there is nothing here. you have absolutely no knowledge of what it takes, what is thrust upon me as the next olo'ekytan. i am forced to love you, a simple clans person who does not contribute a single thing to this village," he grunts out, nostrils flaring in irritation.

"yes, i have my duties but i will not be forced to go through yet another day where you think we are true lovers. so back off." his voice grows angrier with each word. his words resemble a whip, every word that tumbles past his lips begins to hit you again, and again, and again. his breath gets caught in his throat as his face flushes a darker plum color.

your jaw drops slightly, an instant gasp leaving your lips. the tiny noise knocks neteyam out of his defensive state and with every passing second, regret begins to consume him whole.

both of you stay silent for second, just staring at each other in search of how to respond, to no avail. he watches your face morph into one that is more closed off, walls building themselves high as you straighten out your posture before responding.

"my mistake," you swallow thickly, voice almost mocking him in a sense. "i apologize for thinking there was an us. i thought i was speaking to just neteyam, not the chief's son. forgive me for thinking otherwise." your tone is monotonous, gaze meeting his in an intense staring match.

his brows drop, eyes widening as his frown begins to grow deeper. "y/n..." he tries to take a step closer to you, in return you take a step back. you cut off his advances before they can even start. "i am truly sorry for the fact that our entire relationship was a mere inconvenience for you."

neteyam hisses as if you had slapped him across his face, and after everything he had just spilt, he wouldn't be surprised if you actually did so. but there you stand, the sparkle in your eyes dimming. his mouth open and closes, trying to muster up enough words to form a proper sentence. and to rub salt into his freshly cut wound, "was there anything else the chief's son needed to say to me or am i free to leave?" you ask calmly, eyes never leaving his.

his hands twitch nervously, biting the inside of his cheek as he contemplates his next move. "there's nothing else to say on this matter," he mutters.

you nod affirmatively before turning your back towards him. as you begin walking away, neteyam's hands instinctively reach for you, calling your name desperately as the space between you and him grows bigger.

he knew he had messed up, big time.

"that's enough, neteyam." your voice stern, pointing an accusatory finger his way. he continues to watch your retreating form, heart willing him to run after you, yet his brain forces his body to remain deathly still.

⋆ ˚｡ ୨୧ reblogs / feedback are highly appreciated. thank you!

★ diwa's notes. i always write fluff n shit so i decided to change that LOL there might b a pt 2, not sure tho :P

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bigbadvoxbox · 4 months

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AHHH, oh my god those Lucifer pegging headcanons were absolutely SCRUMPTIOUS (Same anon btw, hi!!) absolutely adored them. He’s been rotting in my brain since he first showed up on screen my goodness, anyway!! I have so many dirty thoughts about him, how about Lucifer smut with reader who’s been edging the poor baby for hours and he’s all whiny and needy and pathetic and begging for his mommy to let him cum like the needy little slut he is :(, thank youuu!! - 🪲

Lucifer x Transmasc reader

warnings: edging. degradation + praise. lucifer is a sub, power bottom at best. he's a whiny baby (but we love it). pegging. mention of selling his soul.

Here he was, the big bad King of Hell himself, writhing beneath you, his chest arching up against yours as he whined pitifully.

"Awh. Poor baby." you feigned pity at the state Lucifer was currently in, pouting mockingly.

It had been hours. So many long, excruciating hours, of being brought right up to that edge, right on the precipice of ecstasy, only for all of the sensations to stop and send Lucifer tumbling back down the way he came. Each time he was brought back down from his near-release, his body began to ache more and more. His nerves were on fire, aching, begging, screaming for the orgasm he craved so badly. His eyes bubbled with tears as his lower lip trembled, whining and groaning about how "Please, please I can't- I need you to- fuck, please."

His tip was beginning to blush slightly red as drops of precum began to dribble down the length of his dick, not only was his body being stimulated by your hand around his cock, but also by your strap inside him, your hips alternating back and forth between a rough, quick pace that knocked the breath from his lungs, and an oh so slow pace that had him squirming with the need for more.

His pale skin was now marked with hickeys and bites, not only an expression of love, but a display of dominance, of possessiveness. Each kiss you pressed gently to his skin had him pulling such a sweet face for you, an expression so fucking pathetic yet so cute, like a puppy begging for a treat. You knew exactly what he wanted, and would you give it to him? That was for you to know and him to find out.

"Does it feel good?" You asked. He nodded frantically, failing to even speak through his pants and cries of pleasure. That wasn't good enough for you. Your pace became agonisingly slow, and he could feel your strap slowly caressing every sensitive spot inside of him. It was practically torture. "I need words, Luci." you said, your voice softening to a whisper as you used the sweet nickname you knew he loved, even if he wouldn't admit it. "Come on. Be a good boy for me, yeah?" you coaxed him, enough for him to force out the words you were looking for.

"Yes! Fuck- it- it feels good." He answered. He was almost immediately met with a harsh slam of your hips against his ass, your strap filling him so deliciously that it had him clawing at the sheets beneath him. As you began to fuck into him fast enough to leave him breathless, your hand matched its speed, jerking him off with a somewhat sadistic grin across your face.

Your lips crashed together, with you feeling the vibrations of his desperate voice against your skin. The kiss was fuelled by passion, and lust. This kind of affection was enough to have Lucifer melting beneath you, whining against your lips.

"So whiny, baby. Whats'a matter? Wanna cum, is that it?" you grinned like a cheshire cat at your question, hearing him cry out in response.

"Yes! Please!"

"Hm... I dunno, sweetheart. How about we make a deal?" You asked, before your voice dropped to a sinister whisper as you leaned in, close enough for him to feel your breath on his ear. "For your soul." you said. The gasp you pulled from his lips was almost comical, and you couldn't help but chuckle meanly as you caressed his cheek. "I was only joking, sweet face, but... do you like the sound of that? Me owning your soul? You being my pretty toy for all eternity? Hm?" Your teasing was no doubt getting him riled up, evident in the look in his eyes - that look of arousal on his face.

You then noticed something, the way he gripped the sheets slightly tighter, his breath hitching in his throat, and the way his legs began to tighten around your waist. He was getting close. Again.

"Beg." you commanded.

Almost immediately, Lucifer began to cry out, his voice frantic with desperation.

"Please! I need you to- keep going! I'll be a good boy, so please!- Fuck! Don't stop!"

His begging seemed to appease your inner sadist, especially seeing the tears in his eyes, that rolled down his previously pale cheeks, now turned red with the heat of your passion.

"Suuuuch a good boy." you praised as your hips kept their brutal speed, pushing him closer and closer to his long-awaited orgasm.

When it finally came, when he finally came, it was almost like he was seeing Heaven. (pun intended)

His body trembled as his jaw dropped, an unholy wail of a moan leaving his lips at the pure bliss that was like lightning, striking across every nerve in his body. His back arched as his cum squirted into a mess over his stomach, poor baby definitely was denied so much, but now he was getting exactly what he wanted. A string of blasphemous curses followed his orgasm, as his eyes screwed shut tight. His voice was loud and unashamed, just the way you wanted it to be. His aching cock was finally getting relief, as you used your hand to milk it of all he had.

The aftershocks of his orgasm left Lucifer quaking beneath you, his mouth hanging open, not only in awe, but also out of exhaustion. You couldn't help but chuckle as you placed gentle kisses over his neck, and jaw.

"You did so good for me, sweetheart. You're my good boy, aren't you?" You praised him, receiving only a soft whine in reply as you pulled your strap from inside him.

"My poor good boy just be so tired out after that. Let's get you all cleaned up." you told him, voice now losing all of its sadism as you carefully held his cheek in your hand, caressing it with your thumb.

You knew this would definitely become a more regular occurrence, the look on his face driving you wild, it was too good to give up any time soon. Lucifer seemed to notice this, and honestly? He couldn't say he was opposed to the idea. After being edged for so long, his orgasm had felt 10 times more powerful than any regular orgasm, and he knew it would become a feeling he'd be craving again very soon.

AND THATS IT

(that was hot if i do say so myself)

I HOPE THIS WAS OKAY FOR YOU ANON TY FOR THE REQUEST

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer #lucifer x reader #x reader #voxbox

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tokachithewarrior2 · 6 months

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....

...?...

-El llanto se hacía mucho más fuerte, deste el momento que ella logró más que solo quitarla del trance-

Tokachi: Eso...fue un llanto?

-Tokachi se adentra en el bosque cortando todo las ramas y evitando las criaturas peligrosas, que no se da cuenta de lo espeso y frondoso se volvió-

Tokachi: Estará.. porque..

Aquí es...

-Llegan a un cráter dónde detecto el llanto, se decide en acercase-

...

"No me falles.. Tu eres mi alumna.. Tu me lo debes Yo te ayude y tú me lo cumples"

-Las voces y los reclamos hacen muy difícil para que ella pueda proceder en encontrar en los llantos-

Capitulo 1 2

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Advertencia ⚠️⬇️

La siguientes páginas van a ser del tema del abuso infantil, si eres sensible de este tema o as sufrido de este trauma, no lo leas o mires no quiero que te sientas presionado/a a ver el contenido

@soutenir-les-artistes

#tokachithewarrier2 #tokachi #love #tokachi the warrier #soul crash #soul crash comic #capitulo 3

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venus-haze · 1 year

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Got No Reason To Run (Homelander x Supervillain!Reader)

Summary: Homelander fantasizes about you, his supervillain arch-enemy, and getting the revenge he so desperately craves.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. This is based on some of the headcanons I wrote here. I’m definitely open to writing more of a supervillain!Reader with Homelander. This is short because it's PWP, honestly. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Sexually explicit content which includes masturbation. Non-con, violence, intentional scarring, mild bloodplay, and dacryphilia in the context of a fantasy. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Homelander’s eyes were glued to the television as soon as the story about you began to run. Rosethorn. More like a thorn in his fucking side. Ever since Vought decided to let you wreak havoc on the streets of New York because having an arch-enemy was good marketing, you were inescapable. Every interview inevitably derailed into questions about you, the Homelander Vs. Rosethorn comic series was almost out-selling his solo ones, and to make matters worse, half of the internet seemed to ship you, the marketing team bafflingly thrilled the first time #Roselander trended on Twitter.

All of those things he could reasonably deal with, but among the people who regarded you as an anti-hero rather than a supervillain, they’d developed a conspiracy theory of sorts that you were somehow as powerful as, if not more so than, him. He often seethed in rage over it. You were only alive because you were useful to Vought. At least, that’s what he told himself after the first time the two of you were face-to-face, and you spit your venom at him, burning through his costume and blistering his skin, to both of your shock. The faint scar on his arm became a point of sensitivity for him, few people had ever seen it. To him, it was a symbol of failure, but even worse, it fed into the paranoia that what your handful of supporters were saying was true.

He watched the news replay the security footage of you and your accomplices, a rotation of other, less powerful supes, robbing a bank. You could secrete incredibly potent, acidic poison through your saliva and breath at will, though most people were too scared to put up a fight and see what damage you could do to the human body. You practically skipped over to the vault, spitting on the metal door which quickly melted into twisted scrap. Your goons wasted no time in collecting the money and valuables that were then ripe for the taking.

Your gaze landed on the security camera that had caught the whole crime in action, and you grinned, staring directly at it—eyes crystal clear and haunting, as if you were looking into his soul as you stalked over like a tiger waiting to strike.

“Homelander, you can come and get me,” you said with a playful wink at the camera before disappearing in a toxic haze.

Something stirred in him at that. He grabbed the remote, playing the clip back over and over until his cock was half-hard. If he were there, that bank robbery would have gone a hell of a lot differently. He licked his lips as he thought about how he would have made his appearance, crash through the ceiling or laser through the wall—no, he would’ve walked through the doors like he owned the damn place.

He had a firm grip on his cock as he pumped the length, imagining the bank was empty and dark, after hours with no hostages in sight. You grinned at him from inside the bank vault you’d just half-obliterated. It was all a game, as usual, playing cat and mouse until you’d make your escape. Not this time.

Vought’s orders to avoid grievously harming you were endlessly frustrating, but in this instance, he was the one calling the shots. If he had his way, he’d make sure you faced the specific brand of justice a supervillain like you deserved after years of getting away with countless crimes with little more than bruises and scratches. You were too cocky, too smug. He’d be more than happy to knock you down a few notches and remind you who exactly your arch-enemy was and what he was capable of.

“Homelander, come and get me,” you repeated, voice light and airy, clueless as to what his true intentions were.

He strode across the threshold of the bank, his steps strong and purposeful as he closed the distance between you. The ensuing fight was laughably easy since he was actually trying to cause some damage, and from your place on the floor, disheveled with blood trickling from the corner of your mouth, you looked betrayed.

You attempted to push yourself off the ground, only to be met with his boot on your chest, his gaze nothing short of mean.

“Do you have any idea who the fuck I am?”

Your confused silence infuriated him.

“Answer me!” he shouted, his eyes glowing red.

“You’re—you’re The Homelander.”

“That’s right. So I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, Rosethorn, but injuring me? Scarring me? I don’t bleed. I don’t break. I sure as hell don’t scar,” he raged, droplets of spit flying in your face. “I can’t let that stand.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered pathetically.

He scoffed. “You can do better than that.”

“Homelander, please, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scar you. Forgive me.”

His silence was accented with the sound of your racing heart, the blood rushing through your veins. You were terrified. Good.

“We both know you’re not sorry. You loved every second of it, didn’t you?”

“No, Homelander I didn’t–”

“I think I should return the favor.”

Your eyes widened, and you began shaking your head frantically upon realizing what he intended to do. He grabbed your arm, and his teeth broke the skin with ease, just a bit of pressure from his razor blade smile to cut you open. Your blood on his lips almost tasted sweet, at least, he imagined it would.

"Scream all you want, there’s no one to hear you," he would snarl at your weeping figure. Now you had matching scars, now you couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror without being reminded of him too. In a disturbing display of dominance and possession, he licked your open wound. You wailed. He squeezed your arm tighter. You should have been grateful he didn’t try to cauterize it himself. Finally, he released you, but this temporary freedom wouldn’t last.

“You’re a monster,” you sobbed, clutching your injured arm.

“Me? No, I’m The Homelander. I might as well be god. You? You’re only around to make me look good.”

Then he heard it, the way only he can, the sound of your spit collecting in your mouth. He grabbed you by the throat, hauling you to your feet. “Try it, and I promise I’ll take all the time in the world to kill you.”

Teary-eyed, you nodded. When he released your throat, he heard you swallow.

“Now, how to properly serve you justice for being caught red-handed robbing a bank," he mused.

“Fuck you.”

“That’s not a bad idea at all.”

The fear that would glaze over those eyes that he couldn’t get out of his mind made him jerk his hips, and he slowed how quickly he was pumping his leaking cock. He didn’t want to cum, not yet. Digging his teeth into his bottom lip, he exhaled through his nostrils, trying to ground himself.

Where was he? Fear. You were afraid of him, of what he’d do to you, as you should be. You weren’t rivals, the implication that you were as powerful as him was outright offensive. His lip curled in disdain.

He pushed you against the wall, tearing off your clothing with little effort, reveling in the way your body shook against his as it was suddenly exposed to the cool air in the vault. He reached from behind, his gloved hands feeling how wet you’d gotten. The squelch of leather squeezing into your wet pussy made him moan out loud, but in his fantasy he was in control, mocking you for being turned on and how easily he was able to fit two–no, now it was three fingers inside you.

Tears streamed down your face as you begged him to be gentle, to slow down. Your legs were shaking as you tried to stay standing despite the overstimulation from his strong fingers curling inside you and pumping in and out. He wouldn’t get exhausted, not from brutally fingering you until you were little more than a blubbering mess. You begged him to stop, to at least have some mercy and give you a break.

“What’s the matter? You told me to come and get you, and here I am,” he taunted. “Don’t think I’m even close to being done with you.”

You cried out in response, or maybe you’d just cum. It didn’t matter, this was about his pleasure. In that moment, watching you sob and struggle got his proverbial rocks off, and he turned your head to capture your lips in a messy kiss. Your mouth stayed open as your desperate protests disappeared down his throat. His tongue curled. He wanted to swallow the noise, digest it, let it sit in his stomach. A wave of pleasure rocked through him. He was close, dangerously so.

He pulled his hand from your cunt, soaked and stretched out for him. Your juices glistened on his gloves, and he broke the kiss to suck each of his fingers as you utilized the time to catch your breath, or at least try to while he gave you this short break. You’d taste perfect, and he’d lick his fingers clean, his mind almost wandering to what it’d be like to eat you out.

Instead, he unbuckled his belt, observing the way you clenched your thighs at the sound of the metal hitting the floor as he rid himself of his spandex bottoms. His hands gripped your hips tightly, and you gasped as he pulled your ass to press against his hard cock. You tried wiggling out of his grasp, and he almost laughed. Stupid girl.

“Beg me not to break you in half right now,” he ordered, his voice low and husky.

You choked out your plea through sobs. “Homelander—don’t do this—don’t—please don’t break me in half.”

“No promises.”

With that, he slammed his cock into your wet cunt, grinning to himself as your eyes squeezed shut and you clawed at the wall, a near-animalistic howl tearing from your throat. He kept a steady, unforgiving pace that made your legs finally give out on you, relying on him wrapping a strong arm around your middle to keep you up. He dipped his head down to press a kiss to your temple.

“C’mon baby, you’ve made it this far,” he purred. “Why not see this thing out to the end?”

He kissed down the side of your face, his lips lingering along your cheek and jaw, covering them in open-mouthed kisses as he moaned into your skin. Your pussy clenched around his cock, and when he glanced at the wound he’d inflicted on your arm, he gave a forceful thrust that had you reaching back to grab some part of him to hold onto.

You were his. You wanted to be his. You wouldn’t have permanently marked his skin if you didn’t. You laid claim to him first. It was only a matter of time before he reciprocated, showing you what you were really in for. Part of him wanted so badly to just kill you, but the part of him that was winning out was buried deep inside your cunt with the intention of filling you with his cum.

Briefly, his mind wandered to keeping you in the tower, maybe in his own suite, tied up pretty like a present for him to come home to at the end of each day, or maybe isolated in one of the supe containment cells where through time and pressure you’d be begging for him to use you, just to get some physical contact.

As much as he could dream, the main event beckoned him back to that bank vault he’d conjured up, his thrusts into you still strong, but more erratic, and he felt your pussy milking his cock as you came, your voice strained as you cried out his name.

Homelander, you can come and get me.

He orgasmed, and you were gone. Back to reality, just him, his hand, and the remote control he’d accidentally crushed. Fuck. He ran his clean hand through his hair, taking another look at the paused frame of you smiling in the security footage.

Maybe he would come and get you.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #the boys x reader #the boys x you #the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #homelander

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starflungwaddledee · 8 months

Note

Do all of the knights have names in your au? And how did you decide on them?

hello there, thank you so much for the message! correct me if I misunderstand, but I think this is about a panel from my galacta knight vs meta knight comic:

where Galacta Knight uses the word Vaýtita. it's not a name, it's a... actually you know what, it's so much more embarrassing! it's a term of endearment/a relationship designator from my unnecessarily complex whole entire sci-fi language i built for them, lmao 💦

here's the note at the beginning of my personal dictionary as a quick crash course:

Ei Vaýtita in particular means "my gravity". it's akin to words like beloved, my heart, or soulmate- an irresistible force in one's own life. it's usually used romantically, but it doesn't have to be. Galacta Knight says it here to be cruel, though i do think he means it quite wholly

when I go in for making languages, especially sci-fi or high-fantasy ones, i like to consider the alien culture that the language is formed in. for these guys, everything was star and space coded; they had no reason to care about "hearts" or "souls". they considered themselves star-like, and so gravity as a term was most important; it's the only thing that can really move them.

praise is about being bright or shiny or having strong gravitational pull; and insults, accordingly, tend to revolve around being dim/lightless or stuck in orbit around someone greater

(translation under the cut because this is already getting long, sorry... i love to talk about this... thank you for asking 😭💝)

phrase // literal translation (from starspeak) // english localisation or meaning

kalimépos // welcome first light // good morning astéskotei // dim star // derogatory but not blindingly so; you could use it pityingly or fondly in a pinch ei épios // me see // wake up ei Vaýtita // my gravity // term of endearment and a relationship designator used within a star-system, usually for equal partners eu desai Ílioz ai ei // you (are not) the Sun of me // this is basically just a rejection from Meta Knight. the Sun serves an important role in star-systems, and he's simply telling Galacta Knight to shove it. he doesn't say it very well, but he refuses to say Ílioz-ei and so turns to a slightly clunky workaround.

#galacta knight #meta knight #my art #starspeak #awtdy au #asks #i do not speak any greek (modern or ancient) or arabic and rely on google translate entirely #originally designed this language entirely for self-indulgent personal use so it's got its flaws and is ever-growing and changing #i formally apologise to any actual speakers to whom this probably looks very stupid as it is truly just words slammed around in the blender #if they mean anything in OTHER languages also i apologise; i try to make sure that they don't translate to anything but it's tricky!#was just obsessed with the idea of utilising existing cosmic designation conventions for their dumb ancient star language #also to the person who referred to this on my main comic as meta knight being ring-popped thank you for my life i loved that #my headcanons and worldbuilding

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caramelteaa · 17 days

Text

Qsmp but it's the owl house au art/doodle dump

Welcome to the Crow House!

Philza the Crow Man. A powerful witch that lives in the forest. Seldom appears in public except when he's in town to sell potions and interesting nick-nacks.

(does not have a permit to sell stuff)

Has made peace with his curse and can turn into crow mode on command. Still pretty powerful just not as he used to.

Is not in any coven.

Had two kids before Chay and Lullah

Techno and Ghastly(oc)

(old assigned name was Blade and Phantom)

Orphans that Phil found in the forest. They were not born hybrids. First batch of the only survivors from the Federation experiment in creating powerful hybrids when back then normal demon-witch hybrids were rare.

Self proclaimed twins, they agreed on Techno being older by 5 minutes.

Their souls were linked :)

Design wise Techno was a hybrid with some sort of boar demon, physically he was very strong for his age.

Ghastly was a hybrid I took inspiration from Phantom and Ghostbur(my oc now bitch)

They both went under a lot of growing pain. Magic wise they were powerful but had difficulty controlling them, especially Techno, Phil helped a lot.

Inspired by toh episode promo arts

Chayanne was found by Missa during his stay at Quesadilla Island, and decided to stay for longer to raise him. At some point Chayanne got very sick and Missa cannot heal him, leading him to search for the mysterious Crow Man from the forest.

Lullah was separated from her siblings during "the crash". She lived on her own in the wild for two months, until she was lead to the Crow House by a ghost in mirrors and puddles when she ask them to take her home.

Dapper I haven't got to into details, but they might be the source where the Federation got their hands on genes of shape shifting. He was kept with the other hybrid witches so she would learn their behaviors and grew along side them.

This is purely for fun and might not be super fleshed out. Feel free to ask questions, I may have answers or have to think of one(which is good!)

No this would not be a comic or fic I'm sorry these are like for me to have them rotating in me brain :)

#calla art #qsmp #qsmpblr #the crow house au #death family #qsmp lullah #qsmp chayanne #qsmp philza #qsmp dapper #technoblade #ghastly #qsmp fanart #qsmp au #lemme know if there are any tags that need or don't need to tag #or ask questions

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teyums · 1 year

Note

can you write neteyam x reader you spend a night together at the tree of souls before he leaves with his family and he wants you come with him?🫶

“Come With Me.”

a/n: a little something bc it’s been a while <3 wc: 769

pairing: neteyam x fem! na’vi reader

warnings: none

News hadn’t been the only thing broken the day Neteyam confessed a fate you never thought he’d be bound to. Him and his family were to embark on a journey to a different clan, far away from home, and far away from you.

It felt as if the weight of the world had come crashing down in a matter of minutes, and the only thing able to keep you up on your feet that moment had been your strong grip on his forearms while you crumbled in his hold.

“What are you thinking about?”

Neteyam’s silky voice draws you out of your rumination, his gaze more than gentle when your head moves to look up at him.

“Nothing, ‘Teyam.” You hum, returning your cheek to its former position on his chest, pressed against the rhythmic thrum of his heart.

The two of you have been stuck to the other like glue for the past week, insistent on not wasting a single second of the time you have left together. And just like yesterday, and the day before that, you’re intwined in each other’s embrace, laid underneath the soft glow emitting from the tree of souls. A sacred place to your people, the same sacred place you both would have sealed the bond, deeming you mate’s for life, if the threat of impending war hadn’t completely destroyed your plans.

You inhale a longing breath as the length of his arm wraps around your frame to bring you closer, the rough pad of his thumb circling the round of your shoulder, and his voice rumbles in his chest as he speaks.

“You know I know you’re lying, right?”

A rugged sigh leaves your lips and you gently pull away from him, and his eyelids lift, eyes widening slightly at the unexpected movement. The familiar sting of tears bubbles against your waterline, and you drop your gaze to focus on the ticklish blades of grass below your bodies that have surprisingly become much more interesting than the conversation at hand.

Neteyam is quick to prop himself up on an elbow, his entire body shifting towards you as well as his attention. Your head flinches away after he delicately lifts your chin with his finger and a frown takes over his lips at your sudden detached state, as well as the sight of amber glossing over with moisture.

“My love, why are you crying?” He breathes out, his face shadowed with concern.

His thumb swipes a stray tear from your cheek before you can even realize it’s escaped, and your lip trembles as you try to form words. What you settle on has his shoulders drooping as well as his moods.

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Neteyam.” You murmur.

And he knows it was a stupid question. Him and the rest of the Sullys are set to leave in two days, first thing in the morning with a grueling flight ahead of them, and all you can think about is his safety. The fear that you may never get to see him again is overbearing, making itself known in your head with a haunting echo. And even louder is the fear that he’ll become betrothed to another, his memory of you long forgotten.

He pauses for a beat, and his eyes flit to where yours are locked on the ground, as if he too is thinking of what to say, before they raise to meet your face again.

“Come with me.”

Your head snaps up at that, and you stare at him incredulously, lips parting and eyes darting between his own as you search them. Surely he must be joking, but as that same determined look remains on his expression, you can’t help the way your jaw drops.

“Oh, you’re serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious.” The roll of his eyes is comical and he reaches to take your hands in his, pulling you up into a seated position with him. “Will you?”

“I-“ You’re at a loss for words, your lungs left breathless as your mind races over all the details regarding his invitation. He can almost see the apprehensive thoughts written on your face. “I don’t know, Neteyam. What about my Mom? She’d be heartbroken… And my Dad, oh gosh, there’s no way he’ll agree-“

His braids move with the action of him shaking his head, and a chuckle that wafts through your ears is enough to halt your rambling. “Just breathe, yawne. I know, it’s a lot. But you don’t have to say yes, the choice is entirely up to you. I just wanted you to know that you have one.” He assures you with a gentle stroke of your cheek and his heart flutters at the way you lean into his hand.

A soft hold circles around his wrist as you peer up at him, up into those warm eyes that never fail to convince you. But before you can say anything, before another doubt can manifest from your lips, he speaks again— a promise sincere enough to wither away your worries.

“I won’t be upset with you if you say no. But just know that wherever I go, my love for you will always follow.”

Likes + Comments + Reblogs are much appreciated! 💗

©teyums 2023

#neteyam x reader #avatar way of water #neteyam sully #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam fluff #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam avatar #neteyam fic #neteyam #avatar 2 #neteyam x you #avatar twow

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profounddefendorcrusade-blog · 2 months

Text

Let's talk about genocide Starlo

... because on one hand, I understand where the devs were coming from. They wanted to highlight that Star was not the cool, badass sheriff he'd love to be. Some pointed out how, realistically, he couldn't have defeated Clover and especially delivered the final blow (he does it in pacifist/neutral bc hes in the worst possible headspace). Star is a big softie and a "naive fool," lets be real. But still, there is one more thing that he is: caring.

He cares about the town, toursits, especially his friends. It's been shown over and over and OVER again. And i'm sure as hell disappointed he didn't bring a real gun. Yeah, he was always aware this was all play pretend, but just for a few minutes, this man should have tried to be the sheriff he never got the chance to be before.

For the sake of everyone. For the sake of justice.

I'm not even asking for an epic battle. I'm asking for a battle that wouldn't even be close to Undyne's in UT's geno. But it would be Starlo's battle. A battle he was robbed of for the sake of Ceroba getting the spotlight.. for the 2nd time. Because this dude is clearly seen as a joke by the devs. I'll ask:

Why ceroba AGAIN? she shone in pacifist, while Star was always more of a comic relief and its depressing. Especially since the genocide route ties too well with a twisted image of justice. Star values it as much as Clover, but here he could have been the hero of justice. I just have to say....

STARLO IS THE ONLY ONE OF THE MAIN CHARACTERS WHO DOESN'T EVEN HAVE BATTLE MODE IN GENOCIDE WE WERE ROBBED HES LITERALLY THE EQUIVALENT TO MONSTER KID OR METTATON NEO i'm not sure BUT EVEN MK GOT A BATTLE MODE. METTATON NEO ALSO GOT A BATTLE MODE. EVERYONE GOT A BATTLE MODE EXCEPT STARLO

He should have said... "I may not be a real sheriff by title, but my soul will deliver justice!" Or smth Then just like during the Asgore fight, he'd almost be dead, ceroba arrives, tries to protect star, gets shot by Clover, they say goodbye to each other, then, before he is about to get shot too starlo says smth like genocide undyne and that's how he goes out.

Even better, he, without thinking, throws his hat on the ground (bc he metaphorically no longer wants to admire or associate himself with humans, ever again), seeing his bff die in front of him and goes either: "I don't care if you make fun. This isn't about being cool anymore. This is about my town, my friends. This is about JUSTICE." or "No... I won't fight you/deliver justice as North Star." *pause* "I'll do it as Starlo." and the dork then just stares at clover (There'd be a "laugh" option if Clover decides to act because, well, they see him for the nerd he is) but he's DETERMINED and at this point it doesn't even matter if he's not skilled, he'd do something he hadn't done in years just for the sake of saving his remaining friends, family, and other potential victims: Starlo would fight AS HIMSELF.

But maybe he wouldn't even fight after he takes his hat off. maybe he'd try to explain to Clover violence isn't the answer like Martlet, because that's something the real him would do. He'd drop the hat, drop the gun, drop the belief that he's a badass, and instead accept that he was, and always will be, a big ol' softie. And there's nothing wrong with that.

Point is, would he actually kill clover? hell no. That would be ooc (now that I think about it, why wouldn't he, when he is able to do it in other 2 routes? And he COULD have done it in flawed pacifist? His whole world and identity crashing down and losing all his friends is terrible, losing his bff to a human he trusted and to whom he gave a gun is also terrible, but so is letting a genocidal maniac continue killing)

But he'd die knowing two things:

1)he had tried to be a real, dignified sheriff, and failed (bc he died, not bc he didn't try. In canon, he doesn't even try and THAT'S SO UNLIKE HIM especially considering the situation)

2)in his final moments, he finally became himself again

and that.. that would have been so much more satisfying than what we got.

#uty #undertale yellow #starlo uty #uty starlo #i wont even check the grammar this time #im really mad rn #like i get what they were going for but #star deserved this fight #why is he treated like a joke all the time #Imagine if he canonically had something of substance to say to clover #even axis threw at us an important piece of lore before he was blown up #dalv too

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 2 years

Text

Younger Gods: I

Younger Gods Master List Dream x fem!reader (unnamed)

Dream is protective of his ravens after Jessamy, and he's still bad at listening. The reader finds this out the hard way.

Warnings: extremely mild gore/injury to animal, language, Dream is his own warning

A/N: Playing a little fast and loose with dream physics, but we're just here for a good time, right? I read the comics an age ago, and thought I might as well pop back into the fandom for a quick swim after falling in love all over again via Netflix. Aiming for 5 chapters, but we'll see where this takes us.

*Remember, to like is kind but to comment/repost is divine.

**If you'd like to join the taglist, please let me know in the comments!

Chapter 1: Just don't bite me

“How did you get here?”

She stared at the injured raven hopping across her garden like it might open its beak and speak. Give her some answers. It’s eye fixed on her, pinning her even as it fought gravity and pain, flapping with a wing bent the wrong way.

Glossy black feathers hid the blood it left on the long grass. If it didn’t move like something hurt, didn’t struggle to hold up its broken wing, she’d never guess it had crashed into her little world by accident. Which brought her back to the question.

It fluffed the feathers around its neck in an attempt to look bigger, croaking as it shuffled farther away. Soft thunder purred in the clouds, and the steady rain dripped from the tip of the raven’s beak. She held up her hands. Sank low on her heels, as near to the raven’s level as she could reach without falling flat on her belly. If that’s what it took to earn its trust, though, she’d get a little muddy.

For all that it was uninvited, the bird was her guest now, and if she didn’t take care of it, it could never leave. Maybe it would haunt her. Maybe she’d just feel guilty as hell.

“You’re hurt.”

The raven twitched, its head tilting three different ways, studying her expression from varied angles, like it would reveal malicious intent in the right light. He could look all he wanted, but she needed to get him out of the rain.

She started unwinding the thick, knit scar from around her neck, speaking low in an effort to keep the bird calm. “I have something that can help. It’s just a salve, but you’ll heal much faster, and I’m sure you’d like to be on your way as soon as possible. But I’m going to take you inside first, so you can get warm and dry. The rain never really stops.”

Prepared with the folded cloth, she crept forward a few steps, giving the bird time to move away. When it didn’t, she closed the distance and muttered, “Just don’t bite me, okay?”

“No promises, witch,” the raven said.

Her hands stilled an inch away from his feathers. So, he was magic. Magic and rude as fuck.

She spluttered, “I’m not a witch.”

“Yeah?” The raven looked up at the clouds and down at her cottage. “Well, this place is weird. And so are you.”

“It was the best I could do.” She carefully wrapped the scarf around him, mindful of the bad wing – and the beak. “Sorry it doesn’t live up to your standards.”

Her first guest, and all he could do was insult all her hard work. He scoffed but held still in his swaddling as she pulled up to her chest and tramped back inside.

It wasn’t her fault it rained all time. Well, technically it was, actually, but she liked it. The water looked beautiful running down the windows, and the cozy fire glowed bright enough to warm a soul when the trees rustled in the wind. With rain hushing over the roof and a whisper of distant thunder to keep her company, she never felt lonely.

Tasteless corvid.

She set him down by the fireplace while she chose a good blanket to craft a makeshift nest. Only when she’d stripped off the scarf and moved him to the softer resting place did she tug off her own drenched sweater, shivering until she found a good replacement. Her wet hair clung to her neck as she pulled a sweater three sizes too big over her head. The sleeves dangled past her fingers, and she shoved them up past her elbows in thoughtless habit.

The bird hadn’t taken his eyes off her, but he still mustered enough faith to thank her. Sort of.

“This is… nice.”

It sounded like an olive branch, so she took it as one. The one room cottage was her haven. Even if it looked small and worn, she found it warm and soft, kind in the way a home ought to be.

“I like to think so.”

She moved to the workbench under the window that looked out to the garden, where she’d been sitting when the raven dropped out of the clouds with an all too human cry. Her fingertips ghosted over herbs and pots and potions as she looked for the little vial she wanted. She only finished it a week ago. It would take three months to make another. But that was alright. No one else really needed it.

When she knelt beside the bird, vial open and ready to drip over his injuries, he clacked his beak at her.

“Not a witch, huh?”

The wing felt so fragile in her hand. She couldn’t let him distract her. “My mother was. I’m… weird.”

“You can say that again.”

“This might hurt.”

“What do you -?” He broke off in a sharp caw, instinctively jerking away as she pulled his bones straight.

“Sorry, sorry. The worst is over now, I promise.”

He had a wonderfully colorful vocabulary for a raven, and he shouted a few rainbows while she wrapped his wing in the best position to heal. The white gauze practically glowed against his onyx plumage, and he looked just a little more pitiable.

“Sorry,” she repeated.

The bird shook himself, stretching and folding his good wing three times to push away the pain.

“Son of a bitch,” he hissed. “Fucking damn. Teach me to pay attention. Kids and their fucking rocks.” He’d been staring into the fire as he recovered his equilibrium, but once he could pause his cursing, the bird looked back at his host.

“Name’s Matthew. What do I call you, weird girl who isn’t a witch?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you like.”

“I was asking for your name, lady.”

“I don’t have one I can give you.”

“That’s not helpful.” He looked around the room, probably on the hunt for something to critique, and although his beak opened, it snapped shut again when he looked back over his shoulder. He stared at her in the firelight, but not at her face. “What happened to your neck, lady?”

Her hand flew up to cover the scars, a landscape of smooth, raised, and sunken marks ringing her throat. She’d forgotten when she took off the scarf. Horror and humiliation twisted in her stomach, and she was wildly aware of being ugly and vulnerable in the same breath. Instead of answering, she rushed back to her closet, pulling out an even longer knit piece than the one she’d wrapped the bird – Matthew – in outside.

He picked up on the subtext, deflating a little and pointedly changing the subject.

“How long will this magic potion of yours take? I need to get back to the Dreaming. My boss is waiting for me.”

The scarf’s tail dropped from numb fingers, one loop short of her goal, left to trail on the ground as she wondered how the fuck her day could get any worse.

“The Dreaming?”

“Yeah. Know of many other realms with talking ravens, lady?”

“No,” she admitted, cursing herself in the privacy of her own thoughts. “It will take a couple days for you to fly again, I think.”

“That’s no good.” Matthew pecked at his bandages, and she rushed over.

“Stop that. You’ll make it worse.”

“Can’t fly with this,” he said, mouth full of gauze.

“You can’t fly without them, either,” she said gently.

Giving up with an enormous sigh, the raven wriggled down into the blanket and glowered through the window at the continuous rain. A little bolt of lighting reflected in his gleaming eye, like an idea sparking to life.

“Your weird little house is pretty close, you know,” he said. “To the Dreaming, I mean. I bet you could walk there.”

“It takes a day to walk in or out.”

“Why?”

“Because I made it that way.”

“Oh, you’re definitely weird.” He paused, like he was finally noticing the blanket nest and the empty vial glittering by the warm flames. When he spoke again, he sounded the slightest bit contrite. “Weird but nice. And I still need your help.”

“I don’t want to go to the Dreaming, Matthew.” She couldn’t bring her voice to carry more than a whisper. She was so afraid of her dreams she didn’t even sleep anymore. Not much. Walking into the fertile fields of the Dream Lord’s imagination…

“You don’t have to go in,” the raven insisted. “Just get me to the gates and I’ll be someone else’s problem. I promise.”

She couldn’t answer. She really didn’t dare. The laws of hospitality urged her to pick up the bird and carry him wherever he wanted to go, and he made it all sound so reasonable, so easy. Just a stroll and a hand over to a friendly face eager to welcome him back. It wasn’t, though. Oh, the walk was fine. She came and went from her hideaway world all the time, but her heart thrummed in terror to even think of the Dreaming. Was she really so close? Her home didn’t feel as safe as it had that morning. The security of the cozy storm left something wanting now. None of this was designed to keep other entities out. It was just… out of the way. On the other hand, if she left the bird – one of Dream’s ravens! – here to recover and his master came for him, it would never be a sanctuary ever again.

Maybe… if she was quick…

“I’ll –” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’ll try. I’ll walk you to the gates.”

“Thank you.” At least he sounded like he meant it. Lack of gratitude wouldn’t change her mind at this point, but she appreciated it. Walking twelve hours with a rude bird muttering under his breath didn’t sound like the fun kind of adventure.

None of this sounded like the fun kind of adventure.

Fun adventures involved late night diners and questionable life choices after two bottles of wine.

“My master needs me,” Matthew said, like he still needed to prove his point.

That was fine. That was great. Dream would be missing his raven soon. She was tempted to take a faster mode of travel, but she wasn’t sure what that would do to the raven, so she hurried to gather everything she’d need for the walk instead. Tall rainboots, a hooded jacket, and two shawls. She wrapped one around Matthew to keep him warm and tied the other around herself like a sling. With the bird nestled close to her natural warmth, she charged back into the rain. She didn’t even take the time to bank the fire.

Matthew, apparently, decided her rush was entirely for his benefit. “Thanks for this. I mean it.”

She paused at the edge of the garden, standing in the gap in the stone wall as she studied the horizon, looking for something to tell her where to go.

“Which way to the Dreaming?”

Matthew fidgeted and jerked his beak at a random point. “There. I can’t see it, but I can feel it, you know?”

She didn’t know or she wouldn’t have asked, but her breath was better saved for walking. Nearly running, she sped through the emerald green grass and low white flowers in the verdant moss. She didn’t look. Didn’t appreciate. Didn’t stop to touch, or pick, or smell. If she had the stamina to run the twelve hours, she would.

Pattering rain sounded louder inside her hood, and the sky broiled with clouds promising a real storm.

Maybe he could hear her heart pounding by his ear, or he finally realized she was moving awfully quickly for someone who didn’t want to go on this trip in the first place. Whatever his inspiration, Matthew dragged their conversation back from the dead to persuade her she’d made the right choice as she forded a narrow stream.

“You don’t have to be afraid of Dream,” he said. “If he’s upset, it will be with me. You’re doing me a favor.” He paused, struck by a new through that almost immediately spewed out his beak. “You’re not old enemies or something, are you?”

“No. I’ve never met him. I’d rather not meet him today.”

Matthew croaked. “Why not?”

Sometimes the truth was the simplest path to peace, and she’d like the bird to shut up for a while. “I have bad dreams. I don’t want to get any closer to them. Thanks.”

“You know, he could do something about that.”

“I don’t like favors.”

“But I’d argue he owes you one.”

“I’d argue that I don’t care.”

More croaking, this time accompanied by rustling from his safely bound wings. She remembered ravens were in the business of knowing things, watching and listening until they could deliver a secret whole and unbroken to their master. Her cagey replies must bother him on some deeper level.

“So why are you doing this? You clearly don’t want to.”

“Because you were hurt. You needed help. And I don’t want your master to come looking for you here.”

He cast incredible side-eye for a creature wrapped in home-knit outerwear strapped to a stranger’s chest.

But at least he shut-up.

It was the perfect landscape for long walks. She’d designed it that way. Gently rolling hills melted into copses of trees just too small to be forests but deep enough to lose the daylight below the tangled canopy. Any other day, she’d enjoy this trek. But now she wondered if she’d ever be able to enjoy it again, knowing which direction the Dreaming lay and how close it pressed to her border.

She slogged up the hills and slipped down the muddy sides, careful not to tumble and crush the fragile bird she carried against her chest. She slipped through the woods, ignoring the sweet smell of old loam and dried leaves. When the heavy rain came down in a curtain as the crested the last hill, she pushed through that, too.

The raven stayed awake for the entire trip. She shaved a full three hours off her usual time, and she reached the end exhausted. She should’ve packed a stimulant. Maybe an energy drink. Maybe a potion. Something. She had to get herself back home after this.

A field stretched to the cusp of oblivion, a black void at the edge of the turf her mind fought not to notice. She walked to the edge, slowing until she came to the brink, and then she had no ideas.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Well, you’re not a raven,” Matthew said. “I see where we need to go. Just trust me. There’s a path a few feet to the left.”

She shuffled obediently to the side, but she still saw nothing.

“Just take a step,” the bird insisted. “I’ll guide you through it.”

She didn’t want to. Every instinct from every element of her pedigree screamed that this was a Bad Idea. Relying on blind faith and a raven’s intuition might lead her into the Dreaming, but she bet she’d have a long fall someone with wings wouldn’t consider a problem. Some little oversight would swallow her whole, and nightmare would eat her alive, or she’d be trapped in her own night terrors.

“Why don’t I just leave you here?” She could hear the panic in her wobbling pitch, and her trembling hands banished any doubt as she reached for the knot in the sling.

“I thought you didn’t want Morpheus to come looking for me in your weird little bubble realm.”

She closed her eyes. Drew a shaky breath. No, she didn’t want that, but would it be worse than voluntarily stepping into that darkness? The raven couldn’t protect her. He wouldn’t even know what was safe for her, really. He was flying on a lot of assumptions, and she didn’t want to pay the price for his optimistic naivety.

“I don’t know what the void will do to me,” she confessed. “I’ve never actually… touched it.”

“It won’t do anything,” the raven said. “And it’s so thin you won’t even notice. The Dreaming is right there.”

Fucking hell. Her hands seized air, opening and closing like she could snatch courage out of thin air. Damn it all.

She lunged into the thing she didn’t even want to look at, and for the barest moment, she felt it. Nothing. No pulse. No breath. No thought or feeling at all. A gap stretched between past and present, like she’d been snuffed out – or never began to exist in the first place.

Then her momentum carried her through in a boggling mess of physics, and she was somewhere again.

Air punched into empty lungs, and she stumbled, nearly falling to her knees as light, sound, and her own heartbeat returned.

“Whoa! Hey! Watch out for the water!”

Matthew’s shout brought her eyes down, and she saw dark waves lapping at her feet, sucking them into the black sand as the foam tried to climb up and over her rain boots. The fact that sea foam was trying to do anything clued her into the water’s threat, and she darted away with her newly-beating heart in her throat.

“Well done. You see? Not so bad. You’re fine.”

It had been one of the worst experiences in her fucked-up life, and she might’ve told him so if she had the breath. Instead, she barely managed to mutter, “I think I hate you.”

“Nah.”

She stopped to push the last of the void from her lungs, sucking in oxygen like she’d never tasted it before, and the sensation stirred several memories she couldn’t take time to stop and fight. Not on the shores of the Dreaming. Not so close to the Lord of Nightmares. She wrestled them down, threw other thoughts and needs over them like a rug over a stain. Her horrors would have to wait until she slept again, and she planned on putting that off for a long, long time.

When she felt ready and able to move again, she asked, “Where to now?”

“The gates,” he said, like he thought she was the stupid creature alive.

She looked away from her feet and finally noticed the looming doors further down the beach. Silently, she had to agree that she was, in fact, incredibly stupid. They were hard to miss, taller than a skyscraper, carved over in faces, beasts, and scenes she didn’t recognize, gleaming like aged ivory. Beautiful and awe-inspiring in the way an angel or the Milky way inspired reverence and respect. Something a little too vast for her to grasp, but towering over her regardless.

Yeah. Time to get this over with.

As she power-walked across the cold sand, shadowed by the rocks piercing out of the waves, she unknotted the sling and pulled Matthew out of his cocoon.

“This bus has come to the end of its route,” she said. “We hope you’ve enjoyed your trip.”

The raven cackled, trying to stretch his wing in spite of the way she still cradled him. “You find a sense of humor in the void?”

“No, just a sense of relief. Seriously. Watch where you’re flying next time. I won’t have another healing salve like a gave you for several months, so if you do this again, you’re fucked.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.” He was all but straining forward in her hands, eager to get home, to complete his mission and reassure his master that all was well. “You sure you don’t want to meet my master? Or Lucienne?”

It didn’t matter she didn’t know who Lucienne was. She didn’t need to meet any more dreams – or servants of dreams. “Very.”

“So, you’re just going to ding-dong-ditch Dream of the Endless?”

“Yup.”

“Suit yourself.”

The sand made it harder to keep her pace, sliding away under her heels, sapping her strength as she hurried to drop her guest off at his front door. Waves of power rolled down from the high wall, and she felt trapped against the tide of Dream’s domain and the dark ocean lapping up the shore behind her. Everything looked grand and stark. She didn’t belong with her green boots and her rain-slicked jacket. The hood had fallen back, and a damp strand decided to stick on her cheek. With her hands full of bird, she had no way to pull it off.

Cold, wet, disheveled.

Tired.

Afraid.

She was ready for this adventure to end.

“How are you going to get back through the void?” the bird asked.

She shook her head, amazed. “You just thought to ask that? Never mind. I have a shortcut.”

“What kind of shortcut? Why did we just walk for nine hours in the rain?”

She plucked at the end of the second shawl, the one she used to keep him warm on that nine-hour trip through the storm. Such gratitude.

“Because I didn’t know what it would do to you.”

“I can survive the void, lady, you think your shortcut’s tougher than that?”

How far away was the damn gate? Would this beach never end?

“All that matters,” she panted, “is that you’re going home. I’m going home.” She turned the bird in her hands so they were eye-to-eye. “And we will never have to see each other again.”

Sounding more human than ever, the bird tutted, but whatever he wanted to say was swallowed in a sudden, sharp wind.

The austere stillness consumed itself in a rage, lifting black sand and sea spray into an impenetrable haze. One second, she could see the gate. The next, she could barely see three feet in front of her. Shielding her eyes from the sand with one arm, she instinctively tucked the bird close, bending over him protectively. The grit gave the wind claws, and it lashed her bare flesh raw.

What have you done with my raven?

The question pressured her from all sides, a crushing, physical weight ringing in her ears as it forced her to cower in on herself. She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe. Matthew squawked and fluttered in her arms, flopping free with half a scarf still wrapped around him, tangled in his claws. “Sir, wait! Sir!”

The raven’s call settled the hurricane, but the overwhelming pressure remained. The lingering effect of the voice pressed against her soul like a death knell as a figure gathered itself, standing between the two travelers and the gate. The raven struggled towards the tall, dark shape, and she all but slapped herself in the face in her fight to get the dust out of her eyes, nose, and mouth.

Matthew called the newcomer sir.

She was peering up at Dream of the Endless.

He knelt to accept the bird, face dark as a nightmare. Long, pale fingers explored the broken wing. When they pulled away, a few rusty crumbs of blood clung to the pads, and eyes burning with angry stars lifted to pierce her.

He asked again, “What have you done with my raven?”

This time the voice was a voice, not a force of nature. He sounded like smoke and sand, deep and sure as the ocean at her back. That voice might scour her away like a rough patch in his perfect Dreaming, and nothing in his tone said she was welcome.

Now she felt like the raven – a little bird with a hoarse cry and hollow bones all too easy to snap.

“You hurt something of mine.” A snarl carved into his face, and even as Matthew squawked for his lord’s attention, the Dream Lord reached out.

His shadow stretched long and dark from his feet, against the light. It crept towards her, darker than the black shore, and she stumbled over her own feet as she backed away, landing hard on her hands.

“I didn’t,” she whispered. Her voice was long gone. It fled and left her to die whimpering and pathetic, the traitor. Scrambling back as the shadow approached, she shook her head. “Please, don’t.”

Cawing and flapping, Matthew shouted, “Sir, stop!”

The shadow slowed, just for an instant, and she leapt to her feet. Tears burning her eyes from fear and grit, she ran three steps back, never daring to take her eyes off the threatening Endless. She clawed into her own mind, grabbing for the half of herself she preferred to leave wandering the sky over her cottage. A rumble drew Dream’s eyes to the dark clouds gathering at the edge of the Dreaming, and she saw his eyes flick back to her just as the lightning struck.

Her summoned bolt traced down to catch her up in a flash of burning light. The crackle was almost unbearable, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and Dream’s shadow was still snaking after her.

She wasn’t there when the shadow reached the place she’d stood. The lightning blast reached through her to the ground and then back up into the clouds. It took her with it.

An echoing strike deposited her in the cottage garden.

She fell to her hands and knees as the power zapped away into the sky. Mud squished up between her fingers, and she shuddered in place, too busy shaking to move. Rain rolled down her face, cleaning the salt of sweat, tears, and sea. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy after weightless, electric travel, and she bowed to the animal urge to just freeze in place for a while. She needed to think. Maybe then she could remember how to stand.

An Endless wanted her dead. Dream, no less. She had more reason than ever to stay awake. Maybe she could find a trick to avoid sleep forever.

But his raven knew where she lived, and it wasn’t a long trip.

She needed to run.

Chapter 2

#morpheus #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #fanfiction

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wolken-himmel · 2 years

Text

In which Epel tries to matchmake Rook with (Y/n) in an attempt to get rid of him.

(Y/n) is a little bit angry upon finding out.

Request by anon.

"—and then he dragged me back to the dorm building! That was the third time he did that today..."

An exasperated sigh escaping the lavender-haired boy's lips, his shoulders slouched forward in an exhausted manner. The fight in his eyes had faded away as he crashed onto the seat right next to you. The noise echoed through the otherwise quiet library, but he didn't seem to care.

You lowered your book and shot him a pitiful look. "I'm sorry to hear that, Epel," you said playfully. "It sounds like Rook could use a new hobby. You know, aside from constantly hunting you down."

The fellow first-year's eyes seemed to light up at your suggestion. His adorable face morphed into a grin of mischief, one that you didn't notice due to the way you had your face buried in your book again. A low chuckle escaped his lips as he murmured, "That's a really good idea..." While a thousand ideas flew through his mind, he clasped his hands together like a movie-villain.

An absent-minded hum escaped your lips. "It doesn't have to be a hobby. Maybe he would appreciate a new friend? A pet?"

"Or a significant other!"

At once, you slammed your book onto the table, not caring that you had lost your page. You couldn't help but simply stare at your friend in silence, wondering if you had misheard him. But when he made no attempt to correct himself, you broke out into uncontrollable laughter. "Pff, you want to matchmake the chasseur l'amour with some unfortunate soul?" you cried out while holding your stomach in pain. "No thanks, Vil will have my head if he finds out..." Still laughing as if you had been hexed, you rose to your feet and walked away.

Epel watched you disappear behind the tall bookshelves, even intently listening until the last remnants of your laughter died down. And once that was the case, his mischievous grin turned comically evil. "And that unfortunate soul is you, (Y/n)!"

°°°

The next few days passed by uneventfully, and you remained very much unaware of Epel's plan to get rid of Rook, Vil's right-hand man — by matchmaking you with him. It was only when, after exactly seven days had passed, a strange note had crossed your path, guiding you to a shadowy tree in the courtyard. You knew that spot, having watched Rook polish his bow beneath the tree more than a dozen times.

This was the first time you had approached him, and the thought of it caused your stomach to churn in discomfort. You practically waddled over to him like a graceless penguin.

"Uhm..." You awkwardly coughed into your fist once you stood in front of him. "Rook, you wished to talk to me?"

The hunter took his sweet time finishing the last touches before he raised his gaze, a giddy smile on his lips. After having carefully put his bow aside, he said, "Although I do appreciate the opportunity of glancing upon your beautiful visage again, I don't recall ever having asked you to meet me here at my favourite spot." Yet, he waved you off when you were about to open your mouth again, and instead grabbed your unexpecting hand to pull you to the grassy ground beside him. The yelp escaping your lips did nothing to diminish his excitement. "You have caught me at a wonderful time! I'm in a great mood to chat, especially with you, mon ange."

"But... an apple fell on my head earlier in the courtyard... and there was this note attached to it," you muttered in confusion and held said purple-coloured slip of paper out to him. "You asked to meet me here, and even signed it."

His green eyes studied the content of the note intently before he returned it to you. A large grin decorated his face, and he began to explain, "That is not my signature." A confident aura surrounded him as he spoke, and you merely nodded along in surprise. "The first 'o' is way too small, and I always make sure that both are the same width and height! But fret not, I have my suspicions on whose crude handwriting this could be."

"Oi!" it suddenly came from behind a nearby bush. "My handwriting ain't crude!"

A triumphant chuckle escaped Rook's lips as he jumped to his feet and pointed right at the shrubbery. "And there we have the culrpit, aha!" he exclaimed while you stumbled to your feet, as well.

The newcomer hesitantly exited his hiding place.

"Epel, you wanted Rook and me to meet up?" you breathed out in confusion. "But why..."

Before Epel could explain himself, Rook had already chimed in, "To distract me with your beauty, of course! By doing so, he hopes that I will not bother him anymore." A low chuckle escaping his lips, he had closed his eyes in an unsettling manner. "And it's working, Monsieur Pomette."

"You sly little idiot," you hissed out angrily.

"If you wish to hunt Monsieur Pomette down, I shall accompany you!" Rook offered immediately, extending his gloved hand for you take. "I hear hunting together is quite a bonding activity."

"Yes, Rook. Gladly." You grasped his hand and pulled him forward vigorously.

A frightened yowl escaping Epel's lips, he took several steps backwards. "H-Hey! You should be cuddling beneath that tree right now! Leave me alone—"

"Oh, this is so exciting! I've never hunted with anyone else before, mon ange."

You gave his hand a squeeze. "It's my pleasure, Rook."

"Well, at least you're getting along," Epel mocked, and stuck his tongue out at the two of you. Then, at the speed of light, he whipped around and took off into the distance.

What an amazing tale of how Rook and you had first met that you would tell your future children.

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #reader insert #y/n #disney twst #twst x you #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #twst rook hunt #twst rook x reader #twst rook #twisted wonderland rook #gender neutral reader

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