puppetgame

[puppetgame]

Welcome to my corner of the internet.

I will be forward and say I cannot guarantee any consistent writing. University and 40h/week job leaves me with envy towards those who manage to hold their motivation with less time.

Saying that, I will try. So.. If you decided I'm the one you want to try your luck with, make sure to check out my request rules and the fandoms I write for.

Please remember, this is an 18+ blog, and I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume—MDNI.

Enjoy, and proceed with caution!

[puppetgame]

Casualty

TF141 x fem!foreign correspondent!reader

A/n: I've been reading fics by @391780 and once I read all of those, I found @livecrow. And damn- suddenly I wanted to write something myself after.. well, 3-4 years? Uni kept me busy and burnt out lol.

Warnings: none for this chapter, but this story will get dark so maybe stop ahead now. War, MDNI, dead dove do not eat, it'll all come up later so I'll tag it appropriately then. For now- too much exposition? Feeling self-conscious about writing for the first time in years.

It had started with a single, deafening blast in the middle of the night. The kind that shook the windows and made the earth tremble beneath your bedframe. It had dragged you from sleep in an instant, heart hammering as the aftershock rattled the walls of your small apartment.

And then, barely moments later, gunfire.

Sharp, sporadic bursts that gradually turned into a cacophony, filling the air like the rolling of a war drum. It was distant enough that it wasn’t on your street, but close enough to make your stomach turn to lead.

Your journalist instincts had kicked in immediately. You had dragged yourself to your feet, grabbing your camera, recorder, and phone. It didn’t take long to get to your building’s rooftop. From there, the city stretched out below you, and it didn’t take long to spot the thick, billowing smoke curling into the sky from the industrial district.

Your hands trembled slightly as you brought your camera up, zooming in. Buildings were ablaze. You could see silhouettes of men moving between alleys, some in the dark, others lit up by flames. No uniforms. No clear markings.

This wasn’t a localized explosion. This was war.

And war was news.

The morning had brought only confusion.

The government issued a weak, barely-put-together statement. By noon, rumors were running rampant, but with no official updates, no foreign forces claiming responsibility, and no one in charge willing to give more than an empty platitude, everything was murky.

Your camera set up on a rooftop with the view of the chaos of the city behind you, you waited for the connection to the TV station back home. Your earpiece crackled with the familiar voice of the anchor back home, their tone polished, professional- unshaken by the kind of chaos that had kept you awake all night.

"We go now to our foreign correspondent, reporting live from the capital. [Your Name], what can you tell us about the situation on the ground?"

You took a measured breath, keeping your expression composed despite the scent of smoke still thick in the air. Behind you, the city stretched out- familiar, but changed. Streets that had been busy with vendors and commuters only yesterday were now eerily empty, save for the occasional distant figure moving cautiously through the wreckage.

"At this moment, the government is calling this a 'terrorist incident, currently being handled by officials.'" You let that hang in the air for a moment, then continued, tone level but pointed. "However, the reality on the ground tells a far more complicated story. There are reports of coordinated attacks in multiple parts of the city, as well as heavy weaponry that suggests this was more than just an isolated act of terror. Eyewitnesses claim to have seen groups of foreign operatives moving through the streets overnight—highly trained, well-equipped, and not affiliated with any local force."

A brief pause, the anchor coming in.

"Do we have any confirmation of who these forces might be?"

You shook your head slightly.

"No official confirmation as of yet. No foreign government or military organization has claimed involvement, and the local administration has remained tight-lipped. What we do know is that this was not an accident, nor was it a random act of violence. The level of coordination here suggests something far more strategic."

The anchor hummed in thought before pressing on.

"And what is the situation like now? Are residents safe?"

That was the real question, wasn’t it?

"At this moment, the streets are tense. Many civilians have chosen to shelter in place, and those who can are trying to leave the city entirely. The local government insists they have control of the situation, but after last night's violence, there's little trust in those assurances. The airspace is restricted, the borders are under tighter scrutiny, and communication networks are still experiencing intermittent blackouts. People here are afraid, and with no clear answers, speculation is spreading quickly."

A beat of silence from the studio.

Then: "Concerning developments, to say the least. Before we let you go, what should we be looking out for in the coming hours?"

You exhaled, glancing briefly at the ruins of a collapsed building in the distance before returning your focus to the camera.

"The key things to watch will be any shift in government messaging- whether they continue to insist this is an isolated incident, or if they’re forced to acknowledge the scale of what’s happening. Additionally, if any foreign governments make a statement, particularly those with geopolitical interests in the region, that may give us an idea of who’s involved behind the scenes." You hesitated for a fraction of a second before adding, "And most importantly, we need to keep an eye on the ground. Because whatever happened last night, it doesn’t feel like it’s over."

The anchor gave the usual nod, professional and distant, as if this were just another passing segment.

"Thank you for your reporting. Stay safe, and we’ll be in touch as the situation develops."

"Thank you."

And with that, the feed cut.

You exhaled slowly, rolling the tension out of your shoulders before reaching to shut off the camera. Right now, they would be reporting on weather, maybe sport. People back home only rattled by your report for a few minutes before they're brought back to their little safe haven far away from any conflict.

The reality of the situation set in as you spent your day doing what you did best- asking around, keeping an ear to the ground, checking sources. The general feeling in the air was that something big was happening, something that hadn’t yet fully revealed itself.

And that? That was dangerous.

You've never been in an active conflict- hell- You had spent the last four years stationed in this country. You were the kind of journalist who got 90 seconds of airtime back home when something happened. A nothing nobody in a nothing country, reporting on small-time corruption, local elections, and the occasional protests that never amounted to much. A little country that nobody really cared about outside of its borders.

Talking with the station back home, you debated messaging them you're not a trained war reporter. That they will have to send a specialist.

Of course, being “put to work” didn't bother you- in a weird sense of way you're feeling more motivated and determined than ever, compared to writing articles all the time, or reporting on elections- but the pressure is high.

But instead the conversation was about safety, if you need to evacuate (you told them your area isn't in immediate danger), and keeping an eye out on updates.

Looking out the window, it seems like you'll have to ask for some protective gear soon.

Most of the officials you spoke to either gave you the runaround or flat-out refused to talk. Some wouldn’t even answer their phones. The ones who did? They were scared—tired, their voices stretched thin with something between exhaustion and quiet panic. “Off the record?” One had muttered over a rushed call, voice tight with barely restrained nerves. “Nobody knows what the fuck is happening. We were told it was under control. It isn’t.”

Not the most reassuring sentiment.

You had covered protests before, minor riots that made headlines for a week before disappearing into the cycle of news churn. But this was different. This wasn’t civilians throwing bricks or clashing with police. This was military. Organized.

And it was happening in a place that should have never been a battleground.

The streets told their own story. Businesses shuttered early, roads were emptier than they had been even in the worst of the country’s economic downturns. The scent of smoke still clung to the air, despite the clear sky. People were waiting—for more gunfire, for another explosion, for an official announcement that wouldn’t come.

The evening air carried a strange weight to it, thick with something unspoken. Anticipation. Fear. You weren’t the only one who felt it.

By the time the sun dipped below the skyline, the city felt different. More people were on the streets now- not in protest, not in anger, but in transit. Families packed into cars, scooters overloaded with belongings, even pedestrians carrying suitcases or plastic bags filled with whatever they could grab. It wasn’t panic. Not yet.

Just… preparation.

And that was almost worse.

You had spent the last few hours bouncing between contacts, but even the usual sources- the ones who loved to talk, who always wanted their name in an article- were unusually tight-lipped. Fear made people cautious. Fear made people silent.

What little you did manage to dig up painted a grim picture. Government forces had pulled back from several key areas, leaving a patchwork of security measures in place. Some districts were bracing for clashes. Others had already fallen into someone else’s hands—though no one could agree on whose hands, exactly.

Rumors spread faster than facts. Foreign mercenaries. A coup. A deep-state operation. A proxy war unfolding in real time.

The only thing everyone agreed on? This wasn’t over.

_________

You found yourself in a small café- one of the few that hadn’t shut its doors yet- nursing a cup of rapidly cooling coffee and waiting for a promised meeting with a source.

The man who slid into the seat across from you wasn’t one of your usual contacts. Older, government-issued suit that had seen better days, a face you recognized from press briefings but never spoke to directly. He looked tired. More than tired. Worn down.

"You didn’t get this from me," he muttered before you even had a chance to greet him.

You didn’t answer, just picked up your recorder and set it down—off, for now. A silent agreement.

His hands curled around his own coffee, fingers tapping absently against the ceramic.

"The military is pulling out of the industrial district completely," he said. "By morning, there won’t be a single government presence there. Do you understand what I’m saying?"

Your stomach twisted. "They’re surrendering it?"

"They’re ceding it. There’s a difference." He exhaled sharply, looking toward the window as if expecting someone to be watching. "They know they can’t hold it. Whoever’s moving in- whether it’s foreign-backed or just a well-funded group of lunatics- they’re better armed. Better trained. Government forces aren’t trained for this kind of urban engagement. They’re cutting their losses."

You swallowed. That meant something very specific.

That meant the fighting wasn’t just between local factions anymore. That meant someone big was involved.

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. "Who are they handing it to?"

His jaw tightened. "If I had that answer, I wouldn’t be here talking to you."

A beat of silence.

Then, he muttered, almost to himself:

"Some of them aren’t even speaking the local language."

___________

The streets weren’t safe anymore. That much was obvious.

By the time you made it back to your apartment, the city had transformed again. The government’s feeble attempts to maintain order had crumbled. Official channels still insisted that things were under control, but you didn’t need a press statement to tell you the truth. The truth was on the streets- the growing silence, the checkpoints that had appeared overnight, the way people moved faster, heads down, as if they could feel the noose tightening.

You locked the door behind you, throwing the deadbolt, before moving straight to your desk. The small living room was dimly lit, the glow of your laptop screen illuminating the cluttered space- papers, notebooks, a half-empty cup of tea you hadn’t touched in hours. You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply before tapping at your keyboard.

The news was worse than you’d expected.

The local government had lost control of at least three districts, ceding them to an armed force that nobody seemed willing to name. No official statements, no claims of responsibility. Just territory, shifting hands in real-time.

The state broadcaster still played its usual programming- morning news, weather, the kind of soft, palatable updates that told civilians to stay indoors and wait for everything to blow over. But the independent outlets? The ones that weren’t completely muzzled? They were reporting something different.

<<Paramilitary groups had taken control of critical infrastructure.>>

<<Roadblocks had been set up at all major exits from the capital.>>

<<Curfew no longer a suggestion. Now enforced.>>

You scrolled through the headlines, one after another, until you found a grainy video embedded in a local news site. It was shaky, filmed on a phone, but clear enough. Armed men patrolling the industrial district- some in scavenged uniforms, others in tactical gear that looked too expensive to belong to any ragtag militia.

Then you heard it.

A voice- distorted, commanding- barking orders in a language that wasn’t local. As a foreign correspondent, you speak your native language, the local language of the country you're in, and English. This wasn't either.

You hit replay. Again. And again.

They were clearly establishing control, unafraid of being seen.

Your stomach twisted.

___________

You had spent the afternoon pulling together a report for the station back home, trying to tread the careful line between fact and speculation.

The curfew had been announced on the evening news. A strict one. No movement after dark. No exceptions. You had been through protest crackdowns before, but this wasn’t the same. There were no riot police, no water cannons or tear gas. Just silence, creeping in like a thick fog, broken only by the occasional sound of boots on pavement.

You set up your camera by the window, adjusting the angle slightly before checking your earpiece.

"We go now to our foreign correspondent, reporting live from the capital. [Your Name], what can you tell us about the situation?"

You took a breath, keeping your voice steady.

"As of tonight, the city is under strict curfew. Local authorities have officially stated that this measure is to maintain public safety, but what we are seeing on the ground suggests that power has already shifted. Multiple districts are now under the control of unidentified armed forces, and government agencies are struggling to maintain order. There have been reports of military withdrawals from key areas, leaving gaps that are quickly being filled by these groups."

A pause. The anchor’s voice was measured, but there was an edge to it now. "Do we know who these groups are?"

"No official claims of responsibility have been made, but there are indications that this is not a local movement. Eyewitness accounts suggest that some of the operatives seen in the streets are foreign, depending on who you ask you get reports of Arabic or Russian-speaking forces coordinating movements in the city’s industrial district. While we cannot confirm the exact nature of their presence, this development raises serious concerns about outside influence in what is quickly becoming an escalating conflict."

Silence from the other end. Then, a carefully chosen question. "And what does this mean for the people still in the city?"

You exhaled, glancing out the window at the empty streets below.

"It means that whatever is happening here is bigger than we were led to believe. And for the civilians caught in the middle? It means they’re on their own."

The broadcast wrapped up soon after.

You shut off the camera.

Outside, the city had gone eerily quiet.

[puppetgame]

Levi (Attack on Titan)

Request: what about when reader takes Levi's (AoT) blade to try and escape? But he catches and punishes her, can be nsfw 👀

A/n: I wrote this while high af, I came to be and this was written out of nowhere

Word count: 1.6k

TW: yandere, non-con, virginity loss, unprotected sex, abductment

Minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

You froze. For a moment you considered dropping to the floor and apologizing, but.. This was it, your chance, a fight or flight moment that you know you can't let slip by.

You gripped the blade and turned to face Levi, who was already aware of the situation as he studied you intensely. "Let me go." you stated, with much less conviction than you would have liked. His face changed from a frown to a disbelieving chuckle.

“C’mon, what are you gonna do with that? I know you don’t have it in you to hurt me.” He said as he took a step towards you with confidence.

You twitched and unconsciously took a step back "Don't come any closer!" you shouted, but he continued on "I'm warning you-"

He reached out his hand to grab yours, in that moment you swinged the sword to hit his side. Dodging it, he jumped back, a look of surprise flashed in his eyes before he grinned "Didn't know you had it in you."

Dismissing his comment, you wasted no time trying to hit him time after time, alas unsuccessfully. He only seemed to be getting faster, and you got the feeling he could've dismantled you anytime and simply chose to let you try, to give you hope just to crush it.

Being pushed back again, you tried to lift the increasingly more heavy seeming blade, frustration biting your mind.

In one blink, the sword was gone from your hands and pointed back at you “I’ll admit, that was entertaining. But now you’re gonna have to pay.”

"No! I'm not done-" you tried to push your self back up but he pressed the tip of the steel to your neck swiftly.

"Oh but you are."

You realised you never even stood a chance, the blade didn't even raise your odds a bit, you were simply no match. And the worst part is he knew it. Did he put the sword there on purpose?

He threw the weapon aside as he grabbed you by the back of the neck and forced you to follow him along. No matter how much you tried to wiggle and grasp at his hands to let go of you, he was way too strong and his hold only got tighter.

“The more you struggle now, the heavier your punishment will be later on.” he said, sounding almost annoyed.

Lifting your gaze from the floor you did the best to look ahead to see where he was dragging you. Your heart stopped and your struggling became more frantic than before as you realised he was leading you to the bedroom.

You tried weeks to convince him to let you leave that place, to take down the chains, was he gonna put them on you again?

“What, you thought you were just gonna get away with that?” He huffed as he opened the door and locked it behind him with one hand. "If you want to act like a brat I'll treat you like one."

"No! I'm sorry please don't!" your pleas fell on deaf ears as you were thrown on the bed. You saw him take out the rope and crawled to the end of the bed desperately "Levi, please don't put them on again"

He let out a sigh "If only you didn't act so difficult.. You did this to yourself." as you saw him reach for you you tried to scramble away, but was way too slow as he dragged you back by the foot roughly.

He quickly tied your hands together despite your struggles and grabbed your cheek “It seems like I have to remind you who you belong to.”

Before you could question what he meant, he tore through your shirt in one swift motion, causing a surprised gasp to tear through you.

"This could have gone differently, you know?" he said as he started to grope you and tug at your shorts "I was willing to wait for you to come around"

"Levi.." shame filled you as you regretted your stupid decisions that led you here

"You chose this yourself" he quickly disregarded your shorts, leaving you only in your underwear as the cool breeze caressed your skin. "I do so much for you. I protect you from the outside world, from the titans, from others, from yourself."

No one had ever seen you in such a revealing way, it was cold, you wanted to cover yourself with anything at all, just to escape the heavy gaze of Levi as he stared down at you, studying you.

Easily pushing you up from the bed, he undid your bra, not swayed by your struggling in the slightest. "You're so beautiful like this. All mine."

Tears started to prick your eyes as Levi's hands slowly creeped down from your chest to your abdomen. He kneeled down and stroked his finger along your clothed sex, sensing the increasing wet spot. "It seems you're enjoying this, you brat. It's supposed to be a punishment."

"I'm not!" you denied quickly, cursing your body for reacting to the torment of your captor in such a way.

"You can deny it all you want, but it's clear your body is telling a different story." with that he tore the underwear in one pull, much to your dismay.

"Levi please!" you tried, desperate to stop him from whatever was about to transpire.

"Save your begging for later, princess." as he said that he put two fingers in without a warning, causing you to gasp out. You were never touched like that before, neither by yourself or others, in this world there wasn't much space for this and with Levi taking you away before you even had a chance to meet other men, you were unfamiliar with any intimate actions like this.

He added more fingers, using his thumb to stroke you, and you were starting to feel a pit in your stomach "L-Levi" you breathed out

"That's it, cum on my fingers, I want to see you come undone." he started to hit deeper and faster and your breathing got more and more raggedy. With a loud cry you felt yourself lose control. It was unlike anything you ever experienced before, but even as you shaked from your first orgasm, Levi didn't stop, instead choosing to become even faster with his motions.

"T..Too much-! Please, stop" you begged, and let out a sob of relief when Levi did in fact stop and take his fingers out. You closed your eyes and let out deep breaths to calm yourself, but froze when you heard the sound of Levi taking of his clothes. "no.." you uttered, not finding the strength to try and fight back more

You tried to close your legs, but Levi simply moved between them, keeping your knees on his hips "You didn't think I was done with you, did you? I think you still didn't learn your lesson properly."

Your vision was blurry from the tears as you stared up at Levi pleadingly, with your tied wrists you tried to push at his chest when you felt his tip at your entrance. "Levi don't please! I'm sorry I'm sorry just don't!" you panicked, shaking even though you knew it was pointless.

"A simple sorry isn't gonna excuse you. At the end of tonight I'll have you begging for me." with one swift push he was within you as deep as he could, his groan of pleasure resonating with your wail of pain and desperation

He didn't waste any time setting a pace going deep and rough into you, you found it hard to catch a breath between his pounding and your sobs "This could have gone differently, I wanted our first time different, but this is actually better" he grunted out

In one instant, he flipped you on your belly and grabbed you by the hair as he started thrusting into you from the back. He pushed your head back so he could see your face

“I should’ve done this sooner. It’s what you deserve for being such a fucking brat.”

Despite how much you hated it, the initial pain started to turn to pleasure as you involuntarily let out whines. Your rational side was still fighting somewhere, but on the outside you chose to succumb to the pleasure that drowned you.

"Say you're mine. Say it" he ordered, tightening hid hold

"I- ah -I'm yours" you managed to get out

He let out a groan "Beg me, fucking beg me to fuck you. I want to hear you beg for me."

You didn't know if you said it in hopes of getting this whole thing over with or if it was the other way around "Please Levi.. Please fuck me. I beg you."

He let out a long deep moan as he pushed into you as far as possible, and you felt an explosion of warmness inside that spot fill you up more than you thought possible.

He stayed inside for a long time, breathing heavily as you shaked underneath him of pure exhaustion "Don't spill anything, or you'll regret it."

Afterwards he set you down on the bed as you had no power to move a muscle, you felt him shift around and before you knew it, you felt a tag at your hands.

You looked at him and saw him connect the ropes that tie your hands with a chain that hang from the wall. You wanted to cry out, but in that moment you just let out a sigh and fell into slumber.

"I won't let you go. There's nowhere else for you to go but here."

[puppetgame]

Request rules

Might add on as time goes on but for now it's really short

As this is a dark content blog I am open to writing almost everything BUT I will not write for SCAT or foot fetish

Other than that you can go wild and request anything, and I do mean everything and anything

I write for any type of reader, except different races, religions or male as I can't exactly live into that.

Feel free to request as specific as you'd like otherwise

I write for FxF, MxF or ungendered

If you don't like this content LEAVE, I am not responsible for the content you consume and will not take responsibility. Block, don't report.

This is an 18+ blog, you have been warned

[puppetgame]

Fandoms I write for:

Anime

Hunter x Hunter

Jujutsu Kaisen

Black Butler

Demon Slayer

Attack on Titan

Bungo stray dogs

TV / Internet Shows

Hazbin Hotel

Helluva Boss

BBC Sherlock

MCU Marvel

Games

Genshin impact

COD MW franchise

Twisted Wonderland

HONKAI: Star rail

Mystic Messenger

Resident Evil franchise

Myths

Can be specific characters au, but I do myths and horror stories X reader as stand alone if requested

Creepypasta

Any creepypasta

heads up: This blog focuses on dark themes mainly, little to no fluff, everything will be properly tagged