#nesting aids
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swallow nest cups/ nest shelves
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(photo: Ken Kesey, New York City, November 1985, by Allen Ginsberg)
* * *
The late great Merry Prankster Ken Kesey was born on this day 1935 in La Junta Colorado. Probably best known for is novel âOne Flew over The Cuckooâs Nest,â it was his legendary Acid Test parties down the SF peninsula in La Honda with the house band The Warlocks which he and fellow pranksters hosted after their return from the cross country trip on their dayglo painted school bus called âFurthurâ (popularized in Tom Wolfeâs Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test), that solidly launched the psychedelic 60s. The Warlocks in short order would change their name to the Grateful Dead...
Ken Kesey on Allen Ginsberg:
âBack in (19)66 or (19)67, we took the bus up to Berkeley for Vietnam Day. The day before the big rally, the Hellâs Angels said they were going to protest Vietnam Day by pounding the shit out of the protestors, and they were serious. Since we kind of knew the Angels, we went over to Oakland, to Sonny Bargerâs house. Ginsberg went with us, right into the lionâs mouth with his little cymbals. Ching, ching ching. And he just kept talking and being his usual absorbing self. Finally they said, âOK, OK, Weâre not going to beat up the protestersâ. When he left, one of the Angels, Terry the Tramp, says, âThat queer little kike ought to ride a bike. From then on, he had a pass around the Angels. They had let all the other Angels know. âHeâs a dude worth helping outâ. They were absolutely impressed by him and his courage.â
#Ken Kesey#Grateful Dead#history#hippie history#Hell's Angels#Allen Ginsberg#One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest#Tom Wolf#Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test#the psychedelic 60s
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How you feel about omegaverse?
That's a fucking guilty pleasure of mine. Goes well with heats/ruts.
#ask#soul speaking#valveplug#anon i cant tell if you're asking for ideas#i find it funny if Seekerkin mechs have these dynamics but it's less about sex and more of the social aspects#alphas are competitive and have a higher prey drive compared to their counterparts. betas are guards. omegas are nest-tenders to aid femmes.#transformers#maccadam
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Hi! Is there anything about dragon ink that makes him different from other inks? The reason I ask is because I was wondering if he has a special past or personality. I really like your drawings!! have a great day!
[ * dear stars now i want to make draconink lore ]
[ * umm. There is a silly lil fun fact i hope i haven't mentioned before!!!!!!! ]
[ * They like to collect rocks and sometimes eat them as a replacement to his vials when running out of paint. They're not as effective, but it helps to function well and long enough to be able to refill the vials!! he keeps them in a bag which.... yeah i forgot to add to the ref. so ig it's an optional design detail lol ]
#corv's draconink#draconink#corv rambles about something#corv gets an ask#[ * sorry i took so long to answer ]#[ * draconink doesn't have that much lore. they just exist to be silly and dragon ]#[ * But maybe i'll get ideas........ ]#[ * ......smth smth au hoard?????????? ]#[ * AUS ARE SHINY OBJECTS ]#[ * MOSTLY GOLD BCS. AU IS PERIODIC TABLE SYMBOL FOR GOLD ]#[ * WOULD THAT MAKE THE DOODLESPHERE SOME KINDA CAVE??? I GUESS BIG CAVE DECORATED WITH THE GOLD ITEMS WHICH REPRESENT AUS ]#[ * HE PROTECTS THE HOARD AND BRINGS BOTH AID AND COMFORT TO TRAVELING ARTISTS N SUCH MAYBE ]#[ * Draconink totally would also have a nest ]#[ * steals soft stuff specifically for it ]#[ * he's small for a dragon but i guess somewhat large for you humans so that's a lot of blankets and pillows to âââborrowâââ ]#[ * For Draconink and other hypothetical dragon/other mythical creatures i may make i won't worry so much about things making sense n stuff#[ * Just. whimsy ]
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Love my boss love my job love my work :3
#Creepy chatter#Bouncing between educating on bone marrow lesions and shootin da shit#I'm still the baby of the team but it's so nice to be taken as seriously as everyone else#Yall remember all those fucking office get ups I would have to wear so my colleagues would take me seriously#While everyone else was in jeans/tshirt#If wearing heels and a pencil skirt will get you to listen that we cannot assume a patient has AIDS + mark it on their record then so be it#By my stiletto you will not mar these people's medical history#Now I get to work from my blankie nest w sweatpants on just like my colleagues and they want me to talk and talk and talk :')#So glad I've landed where I am :3
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golly, I am being wordy today.
Via Metafilter:
Someone on MeFi tagged me in and asked me to chime in in my capacity as a rodent person, so here were my thoughts and observations:
First thought, looking at that video: that is no house mouse. Not only is the head wrong--too narrow at the back, eyes are a bit big--but that very clear countershading is not something you generally see on wild house mice. So what kind of mouse is it? If this was in the US, I would assume it was a Peromyscus (deer mouse) species, which often gleefully invade our homes, but do they have Peromyscus in Wales? In North America, this is relevant because deer mouse species often have very elaborated burrowing and pair bonding systems, and this looks like nesting behavior off the top of my head. What sort of mouse is this? The Woodland UK Trust suggests that this is probably a wood (or field) mouse: Apodemus sylvaticus. (There are glorious big photos there which can help you see what I mean.) Okay, I don't know that much about Apodemus spp. behavior, so what do we know about their nesting behavior? Well, I chased a couple of false leads, then circled back to find out what is notable about wood mice, which is that they are known to not only navigate by the use of landmarks, but to organize their environments to place small objects around their environments in order to make navigation and orienting themselves across their large territories more effectively! So this mouse is probably irritably putting things back in place as an aid to its own memory of where everything is and where it can most effectively pilfer snacks, nest locations, or other useful mouse items within its environment. That is, the mouse wants a tidy shed for exactly the same reasons a human might want a tidy shed: so it can find things it's looking for when it wants to! Wood mice, by the way, are human commensals and quite common in Europe and the British Isles, so this is in no way a refutation of the idea that this behavior might have influenced human folklore and ideas about house spirits or similar. Certainly wood mice, like any mouse, are unlikely to turn up a bowl of milk if there's one put out for it--although neither are house cats, which would certainly prey on them.
rather delighted, so I'm sharing this more widely over here.
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Luxury Gifts for Mother's Day
I know Valentineâs Day seems like only yesterday, but weâre only a few weeks away from Motherâs Day 2023! Mothers are such an integral part of our lives and our communities. Itâs so important to shower all mums with love and support on this special day. If youâre looking to impress the mum in your life with a luxurious, over-the-top gift (sheâs earned it!), Iâve put together a list of myâŠ
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#2023#5 tier outdoor planter#amazon#breville cold juicer#canadian blogger#farmacy honey grail#filipa jackson#fujifilm instax mini camera#gift#google nest#hugo boss alive#idea#kitchen aid artisan stand mixer#mommy blogger#mother&039;s day#playing with apparel#playingwithapparel#present#review#series 8 apple watch#shopping#square wine glasses#waffle robe
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ᄫᥠ. # Û« , âžș STREETS !
summary :: over 20 years of kenjiâs life has been spent preserving the surviving scraps of innocence from his childhood. since then, he has been desperately searching for anything to fill the rotten void in his chest. when a news reporter gives him everything he could ever ask for by merely existing, kenji fears the man he may become without them near.
word count :: 8.3k
content warnings :: mdni! yandere!kenji, obsessive!kenji, g/n reader, blood/violence, alcohol, stalking, drugging, kidnapping, nausea/sickness, mentions of sex, use of âdaddyâ honorific (but nothing sexually explicit occurs).
kenji sato's yandere traits are . . .
nurturing, heroic, & smothering
ââââ Over the course of his childhood, Kenji possessed the same desires every child had. The same wishes heâd whisper to planes he mistook for shooting stars.
He remembers climbing the blunt limbs of the oak tree in his backyard, pretending to be a hawk and searching the grass for any delicious rodents to sink his claws into. He can still feel the dirt under his fingernails when heâd get lost in the woods, pretending to be a tiger and barring his teeth to any predators after his kin. His only worries would consist of his next meal and where he'll settle in for the night, instead of the loneliness that resided back home.
However, as all stories go, Kenji grew up. As the years passed, though, the more constricting his grip became on this childhood dream. For every candle Kenji blew out, he only wished to be one with the great outdoors and rid himself of the expectations shoved upon him. As any child innocently wanted.
Now in adulthood, every candlelight snuffed out was a silent plea for peace. And so desperately, he is trying to protect the bird nest he intricately crafted. Woven with strands of his young, raven-black hair, chunks of sidewalk chalk, tufts of fur of his favorite stuffed animals â every forgotten, sacred piece of his childhood that still remains unscathed.
Year after year, the relentless abuse of the world and his responsibilities reign down on him, prying their violent, eager fingers into his beloved bird nest. Today, Kenji holds whatever scraps still remain close to his chest, nestling them beneath a canopy of creativity and everlasting hope. Protecting whatever bits of innocence and childlike luster that survive the weight of the world.
When he pictured his fatherâs role of Ultraman as a child, he imagined perseverance and bravery. Now with that title bequeathed to him, Kenji is anything but. He is clumsy, reckless, and negligent. The very last thing he wishes to do now is follow his fatherâs footsteps, but alas, he has been given no choice.
The Neronga waltzes through the city streets, exuding chaos with every step it strides. Tossing around chunks of buildings and fistfuls of debris. And begrudgingly, Kenji trails after it like a parent trying to tame their exuberant child.Â
A booming roar echoes from the beast's throat, angry bolts of electricity sparking from its horn. One swift punch to its jaw and the creature is out cold, leaving miles of destruction and disorder in its demise. With the threat neutralized, now comes the clean-up. He plucks citizens like they are tiny dolls and drops them to safety, who all thank him profusely for his aid. All except one.
Several bystanders crowd over a pile of rubble, waving their hands in an attempt at garnering the attention of Ultraman.Â
âYeah, yeah. Iâm coming, Iâm comingâŠâ Kenji mutters, stepping over passing cars as though theyâre scatterings of colorful legos.Â
Piece by piece, he brushes past the lumps of bricks and metal. Disinterred from beneath the rubble is you. Hauntingly beautiful in your unconscious state.Â
âOhâŠâ He exhales breathlessly, chest rising and falling with rapid pants.Â
And there it is.Â
That canopy of creativity enveloping him; that bird nest suddenly overflowing with rebirth and life. Everything bursts in colors so prismatic, Kenji finds himself at an impossible balance between feeling weakly heavy and ecstatically light. Never has his soul been so completely satiated before, even in the brightest days of his childhood.
Love, thatâs what this must be! Love, warmth, happiness â every inkling of light this world has to offer! How could he ever feel dejected again with this angel now in his-?Â
âYour heart rate is spiking.â That familiar, robotic voice interrupts. âYou know what happens when Ultraman gets stressed.âÂ
Like clockwork, his color timer blares in distressful hues of light blue and sharp red. Though, how could Kenji possibly pay attention to such trivial matters when heâs holding you in his hands? How could he pay attention to anything else?Â
Unfortunately for his sake, reality tears him away from his entranced state by brute forcd. A blinding flash of white permeates the street and in a blink, Kenji has returned to his normal self. He is back to being the notorious baseball player, worldwide heartthrob, and, most notably, smaller than his heroic alter ego.
When he shifts his gaze up, he finds you descending from the grasp he once held you in. Just like the fearless prince in every child's imagination, he scurries to catch you before you meet the unforgiving ground.
When his bare hands meet your skin, a gasp is yanked from his chest. His heart lurches, obtaining speeds he did not deem possible. Even sprinting from base to base did not garner this physical reaction out of him. You just feel so good against him, so perfect. Like the missing puzzle piece heâs been tearing apart the house looking for, now within its respected place. Bound to be cemented there forever â that sounds good to Kenji.Â
âKen, they can see you!â Minaâs frantic voice interrupts once again.Â
When he pulls his vision from you, he finds a collage of people begin to surround the adjacent area. Their mere gaze threatens to jeopardize his identity once and forevermore.
âIâm sorry, âm so sorry, baby.â Kenji whispers into your ear.
Pressing a hard kiss to your cheekbone and relishing at the sensation of your skin beneath his lips, he reluctantly guides your limp body atop of the rubble. A few final caresses to your warm flesh and he is scurrying off into the night, completely inconsolable with these brand new emotions. New emotions he fears terribly, but has now clasped all coherent function in his body.
A single week had passed since the city's last Kaiju attack. These several days have proven to be nothing short of torturous for Kenji.
He has been rendered miserable after latching onto the light heâs been chasing for years, only to have it torn from his hands like candy from a baby. All because heâs been forced into a gig he never signed up for. Kenji has lost the love of his life and nothing can reprimand the grief it has left behind.Â
Through extensive, but fruitless effort, he has assigned Mina the task of dissecting all of Japan in search of you. With only a description of your face, coated with dirt and blood, there is very little the efficient robot can do. And once again, his desires are left to collect dust in the hollow corners of his soul.
Kenji now resides in his âman-caveâ, as he so confidently calls it. âHealthy body, healthy mind.â Mina teases, displaying the assortment of coconut water stacked in the fridge. With a sigh of defeat, he takes a resentful sip and cringes at the horrid taste. His efforts to stuff his face with junk food like some heartbroken blonde in a chick-flick were rejected by Mina, as she is always pushing him to pursue greater health. Waving his white flag, he asks for Mina to just turn the TV on, searching for anything to mend the pain poisoning his heart.
âKen. I wonder if you might consider taking a break.â Mina confesses.Â
He stares at the robot, searching her metal face for reasoning.
âFrom TV?âÂ
âFrom finding that citizen.â
His face scrunches in disdain.Â
Quit you? Is she serious? How could he ever do that? Could he even survive such a predicament?Â
âGive up the one thing that puts a smile on my face?â Kenji questions. âSorry. No. TV, please.â
Some sincere praise from saved citizens will surely fill the hole in his chest, he assumes. Help him in his efforts to protect that bird nest he cradles close.Â
The TV flickers to life and presents Channel 7 News, the place in which Kenji is featured most on. Seeing his most recent work with a bold âWOUNDED NERONGA AFTER ULTRAMAN EXITâ beneath the scene granted no surprise to him.Â
What does stun him into a defying silence is when the screen shifts and your face fills up the expanse. Bandage on your scalp and microphone in your hand, you inform viewers at home of the recent neutralized threat and your new status here on the channel.
âWell, this has been quite the warm welcome! Iâve just arrived here in Japan and Iâve already been greeted by the Neronga, evident in this bandage on my nogginâ.âÂ
The coconut water in his mouth spews out like a sprinkler when Kenji spits out the beverage. He chucks the open can across the room, ignoring the stain it will inevitably leave on his lavish carpets.
âThatâs them! Thatâs them, thatâs them, thatâs them!â He exclaims to Mina.Â
Shuffling off the couch, he crawls over to the television as though his legs had completely given out beneath him. His hand caresses the surface where your cheek is.Â
âSources tell us you were rescued by Ultraman himself!â A news anchor speaks.Â
âYes, that is true. Unfortunately, I was a bit too woozy to thank him properly, but he did save my life. It is heroic acts like Ultraman that help keep this city alive.âÂ
Unbeknownst to you, your words made a certain baseball player melt into putty. Hearing your praises, even when it is probably written on a script behind the camera, is nothing short of heavenly.Â
The anchors, third-wheeling between two soulmates, continue to blabber about other fresh events taking place in Japan. Pressing languid kisses to the fuzzy static, all Kenji can listen to, all he can focus on, is you. Every twitch of your brow, every curve of your skin, every stretch in your smile â it all has him mesmerized. Like a siren lulling a fisher into the sea, where he would dive straight into oblivion had it been you in the deep waves.
âThis was Y/N L/N with Channel 7 News.âÂ
Your name sits like honey on his tongue. Sickeningly sweet and absorbing of every word.Â
âY/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.â He repeats your name like a magic spell, almost as if youâd manifest into existence had he whispered it enough.
âSigning off.âÂ
The screen cuts and you vanish from the screen, overtaken by irritating advertisements. As though you were physically there with him, Kenji reaches for you. Desperate to bring you, his Y/N, back into his unwavering embrace.
Now, if there is anything renowned about Ken Sato, it is his charm, which also serves as his most powerful superpower. So, with enough flexes in the mirror to give himself a good ego boost, his âput a ring on Y/Nâs fingerâ plan has now ensued in full effect.Â
The foundation of this plan resides in who you are, what intricacies and threadings course through such a marvelous creature. He demands Mina, stronger than he ever has before, to learn every little detail there is to know about you. There cannot be a stone left unturned. Kenji needs to know everything.Â
And every fragment of information she delivers to him binds his presumption furthermore: you two were made for each other. Youâre like a page torn straight from an ancient fairytale. Crafted by God himself to hold his hand. Heâs sunk his fingers into your background, your dreams, your hobbies, and he has nestled them all into his bird nest, entwined with the elements of himself. Bound to remain at one anotherâs side for eternity.
To enlighten you on these matters, however, Kenji has to find clarity through the whirlwind of emotions overpowering his senses. Then, he is positive heâll be granted the ability to finally speak to you. However, the thought alone is enough to send a sun-hot shiver down his spine. Heâll need some thorough caresses to his ego before he can garner the confidence to merely stand in the same room as you.
It certainly does not help when everyday is spent battling the intense waves of euphoria, obsession, and of course, the suffocating guilt.
He left you behind. He abandoned the one thing that matters most to him and nothing can atone for this mistake. All because of Ultraman being most imperative, which Kenji had been force-fed to believe. Never again will he choose his occupation over you. Or anything, for that matter. You outweigh everything in terms of vital importance.Â
He begins these efforts with baby-steps. To start, he assigns Mina to leave expensive gifts upon your bed. Bouquets of flowers, lush clothing, rich chocolates, luxurious jewelry, action figures and plushies galore! All you have to do is look at something in the store for more than a picosecond and itâs wrapped in a bow for you the following day. You also cannot forget the amount of times youâve arrived home to find your favorite meals freshly made on the kitchen table.
In your overworked, lethargic brain, you assume everything is left by your sweet, elderly landlord who misses her grandkids and needs a fresh face to spoil rotten. You just choose to ignore how the gifts are impossibly far out of her budget.
Miles away from you, Kenji is tearing himself apart as he assumes your lack of recognition to be rejection. He knew he shouldâve purchased those shoes in a different color! What was he thinking buying you roses instead of carnations, God, how clichĂ© can he be!?Â
He shouldâve known you wouldnât lend him your heart in return for his riches. You are not that foolish or shallow; youâre far more meticulous than the greedy pigs heâs so accustomed to feeding.Â
Kenji will not claim defeat yet, though. He is never one to waver so easily, especially when it is you that is the golden prize. If he cannot flaunt his riches, why not himself? The richest item of all? And if his money cannot slither himself into your heart, he is positive it can push him in the intended direction.Â
Heâll leave lumps of cash in the hands of massive corporations, all to cast his face wherever it can reach. On billboards, on buildings, on blimps â whatever place you may possibly be. Inevitably, you will have no choice but to see his gorgeous face and fall head over heels with him. The same way you so easily made him fall for you.Â
Unfortunately, though, there are not enough cans of coconut water or buckets of chicken drumsticks in the world to bring you to his doorstep, there to fall into his arms and promise forever at his side. Kenji has failed in claiming your heart as his, once again, but another failure is not nearly enough to get him to welcome defeat. Not when it is you he is promised, never when it is you.
From here, heâll pursue grander efforts. Youâll be occupied in the studio, skimming through your lines while makeup artists poke and prod at you. A squeal of excitement will permeate through the expanse, shouting out for a man by the name of Ken Sato.
Loud rumbles echo through the city streets as Kenji revs the engine to his motorcycle, complemented by his famous hair-flip and heart-throbbing wink. And feverishly, he scrutinizes every face behind the window, desperate to see those gorgeous features smile and melt at the sight of him. Then, he can spring straight into your studio, gather you in his arms, and race off into the sunset with you. Just like the fairytale dream you deserve.Â
But alas, the universe refuses to give him such a privilege. Youâre too engrossed with the tasks at hand, not some money-obsessed athlete who adorns the walls of teenage girls across Japan.Â
If he could hear your assumptions, heâd assure you are sorely mistaken. Kenji doesnât want the accolades, the riches, the fame. He just wants you. The one who showed him what it truly meant to be wild; the one who showed him what it truly meant to be free. So desperately, he wants you to know this, as well. To feel it with every beat your heart passes, to feel it imprinted in your skin with every kiss and caress he leaves. He could lose everything, just not you. God, not you.Â
The man is speeding off with the pieces of his shattered heart before you can even process what had even occurred.
Kenji, once again, is met with another revelation. If it is not his name that can bring you into his embrace, then maybe it is his second self, the one you so wholeheartedly praise for his heroic acts.
Dressed in these ridiculous garbs, Ultraman leads danger towards your direction to âsaveâ your life, all other innocent bystanders be damned. These efforts do not ever bridge on being dangerous. Merely a quick scare or two. And it definitely pays off, oh, does it pay off. Watching the fear in your eyes ease into relief at the sight of him never fails to get him numb with rapture.
âFear not, citizen! Kenj- I mean, Ultraman will save you!âÂ
The last occasion he ever abused his role consisted of an orchestrated car accident. Nearly caught in the crossfire, you ever-so-gracefully dove away from the scene and skidded your knee in the process. A thundering âNO! BABY!â rings through the air. So absorbed in adrenaline, you do not even process the volume of the sound.Â
What does grasp your attention is Ultraman taking you into his hand and lifting you far, far away from the ground. You ensnare yourself around his finger in response, clinging to him like a lifeline. Kenji melts from the action, as well as the underlying implications. You, relying on him, your silver-armored prince, for protection â that is everything he could ever wish for sat right in the palm of his hands.Â
âShh⊠Itâs okay. Youâre gonna be okay⊠Daddyâs hereâŠâÂ
The words, shaky as they are, fall from his mouth like water through a cracked dam. Itâs all just so easy, assuring you of his protection and comfort. The only way of preventing him from caring for you is to end his life. And Kenji has a lot of fight in him before heâll allow himself to be separated from you.
You remain in his hands until an ambulance arrives. For the umpteenth time, he is forced to let go of you again. He cannot hide the perceptible agony it brings him to watch you rely on somebody else for aid.Â
One day, it will be him, he assures himself. One day.
In the meantime, your rejection continues to take a heavy toll on him. Kenji is now famished without you, emaciated and starved to the bone. In some feeble attempt at satiating this hunger, heâll try to find these fragments of you in others. He will drink himself ill then bring a blurry face to bed, all to shake the memory of you out of his head. These efforts, once more, only result in failure.
This time around, a harrowing guilt rots in his chest. There is no one else like you, he shouldâve seen it clear as day. Kenji was a fool to ever think there could be. Now, he has cheated on the one who matters most to him. And there is nothing to placate the anguish heâs tormented by.
This perceptible ruination does not go unnoticed by journalists, either, who do not waste the opportunity of an eye-grabbing headline. Articles about him flood the web, detailing his miserable failures out on the field. Crawling to base seconds too late, sprinting directly into walls, and receiving more strikes than anyone can count â Kenji and the famous Sato name are falling apart by the seams.
He examines the glistening trophies and signed baseball cards in another attempt at protecting his ego and its butchered remains. None of it is enough, though. None of this success is notable without you at his side.
In a fit of rage, he throws his Giants helmet against the basement floors, landing with a harsh thud.
âThey reject me? Ken Sato!? Best baseball player of all time!? The one and only Ultraman!?âÂ
His poor helmet is victim to his abuse, once more, as he leans all his might into a forceful kick.Â
âNobody can resist Ken Sato!âÂ
Another attempt at thrashing around in anger results in his knees buckling beneath him, sending his body to the cold ground. That was the final failure Kenji needed to break down into a sobbing fit. Head buried in his palms, he begs, pleads, for mercy.Â
âI⊠Iâm doing my best, okay? God!â
His body curls into itself, like pathetic prey trying to protect itself.
âI buy you everything you want, I save your life again and again, I-âÂ
Kenji cuts his tangent short by choking on a gagged cry. His fist clenches over his heart, overwhelmed from the sheer pain the organ is enduring. His chest stutters and twitches from the force of his blubbering. Globs of snot and spit gush across down his face, some clumps managing to pervade across his tongue.
âKen? Are you crying?â A monotone voice speaks.Â
âNo! Iâm⊠Not crying!âÂ
His coughing whimpers and wet face reveal the truth. Weakness is something he was taught to be ashamed of, after all. What kind of man would he be if he let himself crumble over such petty matters? Would you ever fall for him after witnessing such a dramatic sight?
âWant me to load up Y/N? That might make you feel better.âÂ
A few snivels through the silence and Kenji answers her. âYeah⊠Yeah, I-Iâd really like thatâŠâ
Maybe this is what he needs, just a few hits of his favorite drug to keep him in stable condition. Then, heâll utilize the newfound strength to revive his honor, finally earning your affection in the end.
Pixels unfold in varying colors across the ground, spreading across the walls and ceiling like a reaching wave. The scene overtaking the basement now displays a romantic scene. Cherry blossom trees dance with the warm wind, petals drifting through the Spring air. A grand waterfall descends from a moss-covered mountain and leads to a river, where fish swim along with the stream. As he stands to his feet, Kenji finds himself at an arched bridge stretching over the river as the gentle melodies of nature sing around him.
When his gaze drifts around, he feels his heart practically plummet into the pit of his stomach when he sees you. Leaning over the wicker barrier and tossing out handfuls of kibble for the hungry fish.
Turning over your shoulder, you look up at Kenji with those glittering eyes, causing his breath to get caught in his throat. To make matters even worse for Kenjiâs weak self, your face then breaks out into a candy-sweet smile. You are so innocently oblivious to how youâve reduced his heart rate to an old engine, stuttering miserably. That smile could make even the devil repent, heâs sure of it. With luminosity like that, the greatest evils would have no choice but to succumb to their contrition.
Dusting your hands off, you frolic over to where Kenji stands. A lighthearted giggle escapes past your lips in the process, nearly bringing him to tears from how precious the sight is. Your hand slips into his and he might as well have crossed the pearly gates of heaven. Fuck, why hasnât he made Mina do this before?
âCome on! Come feed the fishies with me!â You cheer in that captivating tone. That adoring voice could ask so sweetly for death and heâd deliver you buckets of blood. Just keep talking to him like that.
The impact you have on him is so immense, in fact, Kenji falls to his knees. The throbbing ache that his fall courses through his body might as well have been background noise, not when his senses are overwhelmed with how blissful your presence is.
His arms enclose around your legs, burying his face into your fuzzy sweater. With an amused hum, you sink your hands into his dark locks. The gesture makes him dizzy with elation. Spinning around the merry-go-round of devastating jubilation.
âTell me you love me.â Kenji whines, his sensitive voice muffled against your stomach.Â
With another giggle that squishes his gooey heart, you respond.
âI love you, Ken.âÂ
⊠Ken?Â
No! No, you wouldnât call him that!Â
Youâd call him Kenji, or better yet, youâd conjure up some adorable nickname in that witty head of yours. Anything but Ken; anything but what everyone else sees him as.Â
And just like that, the fantastical facade shatters and reveals what really lies beneath. None of this is real. As much as he wishes it would be, as much as heâd throw away everything for you to be beside him in this moment, all of this is merely a figment of his imagination.
âNo! Youâre not real! Y/N- They would never-!â
The tears return and leave his body through broken wails. Once again, he has been forged into a mess of cracked hiccups and ground-shattering sobs.
His clenched fist meets the solid ground, piercing pain invading his entire arm from the impact. The punch was thrown far from where you stand. Even as a hologram, Kenji cannot bear to hurt you. He couldnât wish violence upon you even if he wanted to.Â
The dreamscape stood before him crumbles as quickly as it was formed. Darkness spreads once again and the romantic scene of cherry blossoms and fish kibble fades away. A physical manifestation of what he has become without you present.
Chasing after a sliver of your attention has now thrust Kenji into a staggering state of despair. His sob playlist shakes his house with its ear-splitting volumes, pushing more tears down his face while he stuffs his mouth with donuts.Â
The weight of the pain pushes him toward drastic measures, as he is now a hollow shell of who he used to be. Measures he assured himself he would never come to, but has inevitably crashed landed in.
If you do not fall for his riches, his charm, his fame, then Kenji will just have to⊠âpersuadeâ you towards that goal.
Cameras flash and flicker in his face as he charms his way through another press conference of millions. Only this time, he has ground-breaking news to share.Â
âFans have seen you blow supposed kisses to someone outside the venue. Is there a special someone in your life?âÂ
Directly across the field is your studio, but he will not tell others this fact. It is his duty to protect you, after all. But, scattering a few breadcrumbs wonât hurt anyone.
âYes. Yes there is.â
The room erupts in hushed gasps and the rushed scribbling of pens. Another wave of questions tumbles toward Kenjiâs way.
âThey mean everything to me. I owe all my success to Y/- I mean, my baby.âÂ
A knowing smirk grows on his face. The Sherlockâs of the internet will surely connect the dots. Netizens will also fawn over how misty-eyed he became speaking of you, while others will rage in jealousy over their dream man falling for someone else. No matter what occurs, he will protect you during your sudden shift to fame. You have his word on that.
Days later, Kenji receives an email. And he almost considers admitting himself into a hospital for the near heart attack he receives upon reading it.Â
Signed by none other than Y/N L/N, you ask him to meet with you in order to âclear the airâ and âsort out this dramaâ.Â
Several times, he scans the username to find some sort of fault, something that shows him it is just the works of an envious hater. However, his suspicions are never confirmed. The message is purely and undoubtedly you, no online troll or basement hologram in sight!
Without another second to waste, he responds to your email with a place and time, that being two hours from now. Kenji intends on fulfilling his role of the dashing boyfriend and to drive you there himself, flaunting his sumptuous motorcycle in the process. Mina, however, has since been programmed to detect every potential danger in your path, even something as minor as a crack in the pavement. When she displayed the graphic results of recent biking accidents, his heart lurched in his chest.
For now, he will simply have to meet you at the luxuriant restaurant he booked the best table for. In the future, he will convert to safer forms of transportation and your foot will never touch a pedal again. Not with your prince charming around.
Arriving an hour early, Kenji bursts through the bathroom doors and wipes the beads of sweat seeping down his face. All the makeup and detail he put into his appearance, all melted to a mess because of the anxiety you pump through his body.Â
It is almost comical. He, Ken Sato, is nervous? Heâs done the classic dinner-date over a zillion times, delivering his suggestive pick-up lines and swift winks. Staring at his exasperated face in the mirror, he is at a loss of where to go from here. What will he even say? What famous lines can he use? How can he give you his black card and a copy of his house key without you running away?Â
Kenji finally sits down at the reserved table, located on a far balcony and looking over the grand city. His wristwatch blares red and presents the stack of missed calls from his dad, of which he willfully ignores. He went twenty years without his father and survived. Meanwhile, he went one week without you and thought he was on the cusp of death. He cannot bring himself to care about anything else. Not when heâs finally got a hook on you.
A waiter then asks him if he was feeling alright, concerned over the sight of his pale skin, shivering body, and twiddling thumbs. Kenji assures the man he is alright as he restlessly taps his foot, stalking the door ahead for the face he loves most to saunter through. The building could just about crumble to ash and heâd still sit here, waiting for your arrival.
And just like a movie, you pass the threshold and rob all the air from his lungs.Â
You merely walk his way, but to him, you resembled a fawn frolicking through a green meadow, an angel wandering across roads of fluffy clouds. Those sporadic nerves die at the sight of you, rendering him to a melted pile of twitterpated nonsense. You tread closer and closer and closer and Kenji does not know how much more his body can handle before you completely dissolve him into a puddle.
âYou have five minutes.âÂ
Your voice perfuses into his ears like birdsong, real and raw this time. That noise greeting him every morning is the only wish heâd ask from a magic genie.Â
âWh-Wh-?â He stutters like a lovesick loser, mentally slapping himself across the head for such a pathetic introduction.
âI said you have five minutes to explain yourself. Then, I will le-âÂ
âI love you.â
Surprise eases out your scrunched expression. Youâve never met this man before. Yet here he is, spewing out this gibberish. All of this has to be some form of joke, you assume. Where those irritating Youtube pranksters will sprint out from their hiding spots and shove their cameras in your face, cackling like hysterical hyenas.
âI am in love with you.âÂ
Maybe this is just his way of leading partners into bed with him. A powerful effort to add another name to his lengthy body count. And for whatever reason, he plans to jot down your name on that list.
âAnd you are worth more to me than anything.âÂ
You scrutinize his face for some inkling of rationality, something to explain what the fuck he means by that. Your efforts prove to be futile, as those teary, doe-eyes peer into your soul with nothing but sheer, unadulterated devotion. As though you were both fresh newlyweds enjoying the luxury of your honeymoon, complemented by the glimmer of your new wedding rings.
âOkay.â You swallow dryly, unease bleeding through your body. âYou get another five minutes to explain yourself. On one condition.â
Kenji perks up at your proposition as though you had offered your hand in marriage.Â
âYes! Yes, whatever you want!âÂ
The man in question ponders over what riches you could ask him for and how elated heâd be to give you them. Taking you on shopping sprees and serving as your adoring husband, paying every penny and carrying your bags for you while you peruse to your liking. Just say the word, maybe flutter those pretty lashes, and heâll personally deliver the very planet into your hands.
âI want you to leave me be.âÂ
If it werenât for the fact this man was a complete stranger, youâd feel a sting of guilt over the perceptible emotion that washes over his face. Kenji anticipated the demand of clothes, foods, travel tickets, of which he would gleefully fulfill. Not this. Anything but this.Â
âAlright, f-for how long? 10 minutes? 20?âÂ
âForever.âÂ
You might as well have surged your fist into his chest cavity and torn his heart out, stomping out the ba-bump beneath the force of your boots. You might as well have climbed the tree behind his childhood home and ambushed his bird nest, tearing apart the array of twigs and squishing the healthy eggs. You might as well have just killed him right then and there, as nothing could pain him more than such a fate. Forever without the one he loves most is a life you couldnât pay him to suffer through.
His bottom lip begins to tremble, stomach gurgling with nauseated shock. A few gags masked by coughs go unnoticed by you, as you couldâve sworn you saw a bright flash of white in the distance. Did someone⊠Take a picture?Â
â... Whatâs wrong, baby? What are you looking at, huh?âÂ
Shifting your gaze back to Kenji, you find his features sheen with sweat and sickly-green from the queasiness youâve forced upon him. What you especially notice is the accent of smugness beneath it all, etched into the smirk stretched across his lips.
Hushed whispers in the distance accelerate in volume, until the entire restaurant erupts in flashing lights.
Paparazzi!? What the fuck are they doing here!?Â
Kenji leans back into the chair and slings an arm around the back post, seemingly posing for the photographers invading your conversation.
âOh, no! Weâve been caught! The horror! Whatever will we do now that our secret is outâŠ?â
If it werenât for the sake of your career, you wouldâve socked that smile clean off his face. Maybe even knock out a few teeth while youâre at it.
Critics have now officially cleared the name of Ken Sato due to his recent spike in excellent performance. Sports commentators even toss around jokes of how Satoâs new partner has knocked some sense into him.
Another game of hundreds and the cologne of arrogance around Kenji could suffocate the entire arena. A recent report detailed by you is casted on the billboard outside your studio. He blows yet another kiss your way as he jogs onto the field, ignoring the shouting fans who seethe with envy. He has made it official across the nation that his heart is sewn into your hands. And not even God could level the happiness coursing through his body.Â
That is, until an uninvited visitor opens his mouth. The Swallows catcher begins to taunt him about his lover on the big screen, unaware of the lethal consequences it would harbor.
âYou let the team hit, Sato? Shit, I might talk to coach about a transfer so I can get a piece of th-âÂ
The baseball bat in Kenjiâs hands collides with his jaw before he can finish his sentence.Â
Several more plunges into his skull and a swarm of teammates swarm around to break apart the scene. The crowd is alive with excited hollering, drowning out the noise of the blood-stained threats Kenji barks his way, strings of saliva spurting from his mouth like some feral mutt.Â
The onslaught of players quickly, albeit with struggle, overpower him, successfully retrieving the weapon from his grasp. The edges of his manicured nails dig into the meat of his palms, forming maroon crescents in his flesh. Blind with rage, more threats that will surely put him behind bars are screeched into the air.
A few harsh yanks from the group of men and Kenji is finally pried from the catcher. He is dragged off the field past the rushing paramedics before he can fulfill his promises.
âAnd now it looks like there are words being exchanged between Sato and the Swallows catcher... Oh! Oh, no. We havenât seen a brawl like this in a long time! Both benches have cleared. Theyâre throwing punchesâŠâÂ
Soothing his sore muscles in an ice bath, Kenji watches the recording of his public meltdown with trepidation. Your eyes are not far and surely, you will bear witness to the violence his hands are capable of. He fears you daring to think he will treat you as such and his chest aches from the thought alone.
All he wants at this moment is to tear down the door to your apartment, take your precious face into his hands, and speak the utter truth as he assures you he will never bring harm to you. Heâll inform you of the context of the fight and what sparked such a reaction out of him. Then, youâll thank him profusely for his heroic defense and drown him in your sugar-sweet kisses. Just like he has dreamt of every night, often waking up in the morning with his puckered lips against his knuckles.
Now, however, Kenji has surely destroyed any chances of gluing you to his side forever. You resent him for that stunt he pulled at dinner, and now, you are afraid of what he and his baseball bat may do. The ongoing success of Ken Sato has crashed and burned, resulting in the loss of what he cared for most.
âKen!â Mina calls out to him. âI have something to show you!âÂ
Assuming it is another plan of millions to stamp the title of âloverâ all over you, he rushes out of the bath and throws his clothes on. Venturing into the basement, he is met with the very last thing he expected.
The containment unit has been raised. Inside is you, fast asleep with a bow on your head. Wearing just his jersey and holding onto a plushie designed after himself.Â
âSurprise!â
Minaâs robotic arms stretch out, presenting the gift she captured retrieved for Kenji.
In addition to your permanent presence, the containment unit has been extensively decorated. The adornments are all pink and fluffy, like a cloud draped over a sunset. A circle-shaped bed is strung above the ground, supporting the weight of you and the mess of plushy comforters. It rocks you from side-to-side like a fussy baby who skipped out on naptime.
The scent of lavender pervading the air eases you into a deeper slumber. Tranquil white noise hums from the surrounding speakers, suffusing with the sounds of a light rainstorm. There are even holograms of shimmering stars and a full moon hovering over you, like some colossal mobile strung above a crib. Among the stars is a constellation, of some sort, that reads âY/N SATOâ in glittering letters.
And poor Kenji doesnât know if he wants to beat Mina into shambles of wires or give her as many HTTP cookies her synthetic heart could ask for. For now, he is too woozy to make a coherent decision regarding her well-being. As he stated before, you always remain of utmost importance.
âMy GodâŠâ He gasps out through stuttering breaths.Â
His heart pounds so violently, he can barely hear the sound of his own voice over the persistent thumping. Kenji wobbles over to you as though he had just stood on his two legs for the very first time. He is almost positive there is a certain air suffusing from your body, entering his bloodstream and choking him with fervent stress. Every step forward renders his body weaker and weaker.
Images then begin to haunt his mind, preceding what may happen in minutes time. Kenji sees your weeping face, crying to release you from this bird cage. He can hear the thundering volume of your voice declaring you will never fall in love with him, how youâll soon vanish and leave him to forever rot in solitude.
The emotions these thoughts garner stir in his gut like a meal that doesnât agree with him. Gags poke and prod at his throat, threatening to release the butterflies fluttering around his stomach. A glob of bile then spurts from his mouth and splats against the floor. Kenji, horrified and sick with worry, races away from the scene before he spills his guts in front of you and humiliates himself even further.
What on Earth is he meant to do now?
When you finally awaken, youâre convinced youâve been melted into jelly. Maybe even restrained in a tank of thick oil. Limbs weak at wet spaghetti, you cling to any fragments of energy in your system as you try and discern your environment.Â
âWell, look who woke up!â A female voice greets you. âDo you want to see daddy?âÂ
Something globe-shaped hovers around the barrier youâve been ensnared in. If it werenât for your groggy state, youâd verify it to be a robot and not a talking basketball.Â
ââDaddyâ? What the hell are you talking about?â Your confused voice protrudes broken and sluggish, still stained with the sleep youâve just woken from.Â
A screen forms above you and before your distorted vision, you find the very last sight you wished to see. Ken Sato, your own personal parasite, sits stiff in the living room just upstairs. Bouncing his leg in an anxious rhythm, he seems to be engrossed by a video on his laptop. As you listen further, the contents become more distinguishable.
âWhen the moment is right, lean into your partner slowly and tilt your head to avoid bumping noses.âÂ
The robot clears her throat in an attempt at grasping his attention, but fails to do so.
âClose your eyes and let your lips connect naturally. Match the pattern of your partner to-âÂ
Another noise of acknowledgment from the robot and Kenjiâs attention is finally held. Barely, that is.
âWhat, Mina?â He answers curtly, eyes refusing to part from the information he is currently absorbing.
âSomeone is waiting for you down here.â
In all the years youâve lived on this planet, you donât think youâve ever seen someone move so fast before. Not only did Minaâs words arouse a visceral reaction out of Kenji, but they practically shoved him off the couch from the sheer force of her insinuations. His foot even gets caught behind a chair leg and causes him to land splat on his face, but this is not nearly enough to deter his acceleration.Â
The screen you were studying then folds into itself as an elevator descends from above. Through the cyan, blurred exterior, you see the frame of no other than Ken Sato. The doors open a mere inch before the man in question is squishing himself through the tight space. Always the acrobat he is, he gracefully trips onto his face, once again, before clumsily scrambling to his feet.
Now, youâre given the ability to absorb his appearance. Messy locks of black hair lack their normal gelled accentuation. Dark eyes are blown wide as though he were some feral animal. Tan arms are covered in red scratches from the relentless, anxious scratching he abused his flesh with.
The bold âICONâ on his shirt mocks you. Is that what he is? Is that what he expects you to perceive him as? Would an âiconâ do such a thing like this?
You ponder over how much time has passed since youâve been brought into this horrid basement, how much time has passed before friends and family have deemed you missing.
Kenji knows the answer to your questions. It had only been a day; twenty-four full hours of crazed, restless worry. He even skipped out on the championship for this moment, just to ensure you remained safe in the basement. He trusts Mina, of course, but he cannot rely on her to restrain you. The grasp he has on you is dangling by a thread, worn thin by his own stupid antics from before.Â
He knows now that if you were to take one step out the door, youâll be gone forever. And Kenji will die before he allows that to happen.Â
Meanwhile, youâre still trying to garner pieces of your memory together. After returning to your apartment from a hectic day at the studio, you allowed yourself to indulge in the hot meals always waiting for you at your kitchen table. Normally, youâd chuck them in the garbage out of distrust. Tonight, however, you were so overwhelmed with lethargy, you couldnât conjure enough energy to cook yourself a meal. So, the magic dinner-fairy would receive your blessing in the meantime.
One bite in and you were out like a light, oblivious to what exactly is waiting for you once you wake.
What was waiting for you now dashes toward the edge of your dog kennel, as youâd describe it. Kenji places a hand to the surface and his forehead lands against the wall with a light thud. His quickened, gasping breaths fog the glass. He does not leave even a centimeter between himself and the barrier separating both of you. The legs that have scored him more wins for the Giants than any other played in history suddenly grow weak, trembling as they try to support his weight.Â
Kenjiâs half-lidded gaze is devoted to you only. A curl forms between his brows from the fervency of his emotions the longer he stares. His cheeks go red as two ripe cherries while he just stands and watches, all dewy-faced and blushing.
âLower the containment unit.â He pants breathlessly, the sheer tone of love drooping from every syllable that parts from his mouth. Like pockets of honey seeping from a honeycomb.Â
âKen. That might be a bad idea. We cannot anticipate how they will react.âÂ
He presses lazy kisses against the glass as her words go through one ear and out the other. Ignoring her warning, he assures her of these concerns.
âI got âem, I got âem⊠My babyâŠâ
To your horror, the walls plummet and grant this monster full access to where you lie. Kenji collapses, again, not realizing he had been leaning his full weight against the walls of the containment unit. This sudden intrusion causes you to flinch and you crawl away from him, attempting to shield yourself beneath the thick covers.Â
Body shivering with feverish need, his hand grasps onto the corner of the mattress to stabilize himself. Mere inches away from your foot. His chin lifts to look your way, his eyes only needing to bathe in the sight of you forever. Within his irises, you find swirling pools of darkness illuminated by specks of glitter. Sparkling for you and you alone.Â
A smile pokes at Kenjiâs lips, bright and formidable, before he addresses your sour expression.Â
âAww, why the long-face? Is my baby hungry, maybe?âÂ
At the foot of the bed, a fraction of the floor folds open and rises a platter. On this platter is an array of all your favorite foods. Snacks, candies, sodas, juices, whatever your heart could possibly desire. Mina has correlated an all-you-can-eat buffet just for you. Similar to the dishes left for you back in your apartment.
As it spins, displaying every inch and corner of its delicious offerings, you curl further into yourself. You do not want nourishment, you want to leave! To part from this maniac and never hear of his name again!Â
With your refusal to eat, Kenji determines the reason behind your dismay to be because of him. Or, in his egotistical brain, the lack of him. The works of an absurdly large ego, youâd surmise.Â
âDo you⊠Do you need⊠Me?â The hope in his voice is akin to a child in disbelief over receiving surprise tickets to Disneyland.
And Kenji just melts from how gut-wrenchingly adorable you are. By simply existing, youâre yanking at his heartstrings like a puppeteer, guiding him further and further towards the edge of sanity. With eyes peering up at him like that, heâll welcome the predicament warmly.
âOh⊠Iâm right here, baby. Daddy wonât leave you.â He coos in your ear, the warm cadence practically oozing into your brain.Â
Still overwhelmed with exhaustion, you do not have a morsel of strength left in your body to fight off his affections. Despite how desperately you wish to. Instead, you have to remain pliant as Kenji guides you onto your back, soothing and shushing you as you sink further into the plush surface.
Tearing his shirt from his body, the loss of the âiconâ status, he crawls beneath the opulent covers with you. His arm snakes around your waist, while the other cradles your cheek. Hands shuddering and heart pattering as he presses himself against your back, he wonders how he had not simply died right in this moment. Youâre too perfect. Itâs too much for his poor heart to take. Cupid may as well have discarded the pink-hued arrows and plunged a knife straight into his chest.
Kenji leaves an array of kisses on the back of your neck as you drift back into a tranquil slumber. All those wishes he set on shooting stars have finally returned and placed you directly in his beloved bird nest. All to stay at his side forever.
All to never leave.
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NO ONE LIKE YOU . . . ? â
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Note: Since my old masterlist is getting notes again (and I'm hosting @tbb-appreciation-week this year), I thought it's a good time to release a new version with a lot more resources. If any of you know another site or thing that it's missing from the list, let me know and I'll include it!! [Altho, I'm getting this close đ€ to the hyperlinks limit on this thing đ]
Note 2: To avoid tagging the 3 people from whom I got multiple resources repeatedly, I've placed 1-3 asterisks between square brackets after the links, depending on the OP. I give the respective credit to them in a legend at the end of the post.
PLACES / TIME
Interactive Galaxy Map by Henry Bernberg
Map of the Galaxy
List of planets and moons [Wikipedia /needs expanding]
Planet Name Generator 1 [SciFi Ideas]
Planetary System Generator [Donjon]
Tatooine Location References [*]
Various locations Cross-Sections (Jedi Temple, Palp's office, Tipoca City & more) [**]
Republic - Separatist - Hutt space during the Clone Wars
Hyperspace Travel Times (to calculate how much time would take to go from point A to point B within the GFFA)
Standard Calendar and Holidays [including month names!]
Galactic Standard Calendar [wookiepedia // including week day names]
Date converter according to SWTOR [Google sheet]
Dated Star Wars Chronological Order (Movies + live-action shows + animation)
TCW Chronological Timeline by @mauvrix
Estimated date for: shared by @spectres-fulcrum
Partisans' attack on Onderon
Siege of Lasan
CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT
General
Star Wars Name Generator 1 [Donjon]
Star Wars OC flow chart by @thefoodwiththedood
Star Wars Name Generator 2 [FantasyNames]
Star Wars Name Generator 3 [FantasyNames]
MetaHuman [Unreal Engine]
The character creator
Droid Name Generator
Star Wars Randomizer by @aureutr
Character Picrew [Twi-leks, Zabraks, Torgutas and Nautolans] @/megaramikaeli
Jedi
Taking a Closer Look at the Jedi Order in Star Wars Canon [Meta/Reference Guide] [**]
Jedi Order Structure Flowchart by @rileys-nest
Mandalorians
Mandalorian Armor design by MandoCreator
Keepers of the Way (Mandalorian Lore) [*]
Clones
Complete List Of Named Clone Troopers shared by @propheticfire (Organized by Unit)
Clone Creator [MandoCreator]
Clone Picrew
Star Wars Character Templates by SmacksArt [the ULTIMATE battery of template for any human/humanoid original character in any era. From troopers to droids, from Jedi to Sith, from KOTOR to the sequel Trilogy. 100% RECOMMENDED]
Basic Guide to Clone Trooper Armour by @odekiisu
GAR structure summary by @intermundia
The Clone Wars Republic Military Hierarchy Flowcharts [***]
Clone Trooper Lore [*] [Ranks, Culture, Training, Organization, etc.]
Clones and Kamino [*]
The Bad Batch Characters Concept Art shared by @shadowthestoryteller
MISCELLANEOUS
Star Wars Character Age Comparison Chart by @the-yearning-astronaut
Tusken Raiders lore by @snarwor
Materials (fabrics, leathers, silks, plastics, construction, metal composites, etc.)
Materials in Star Wars by marvel_dc_heart_throbs
Star Wars Fashion [*]
Leisure, Art, Musical Instruments, Ethnography [*]
Political and Criminal Organizations in the GFFA [**]
Financial reference about credits by @thecoffeelorian
List of TCW Opening Quotes
Transcripts of all the TCW episodes shared by @book-of-baba-fett
Star Wars Crawl Creator [not exactly writing-related, but just for fun]
HEALTH AND MEDICINE
Canon Medical Lore [*]
Real World reference for Field organizational structure for corpsman (medics) [*]
Kaliida Shoals Medical Center (Republic Haven-class medical station) shared by @clonewarsarchives
GAR Battalion Aid Station [*]
GAR Clone Medic Q/A [*]
More combat medicine, shipboard medicine, veteran issues, and military culture [*]
SHIPS AND VEHICLES
Ship Generator 3D
Ship Name Generator
All Terrain Tactical Enforcer (AT-TE) shared by @stairset
Republic Vessels Reference [*]
Low Altitude Assault Transport/Infantry (LAAT/i) [*]
List of GAR Flagships in the Clone Wars by @meandmyechoes
Layout of the Havoc Marauder
Dimensions of various ships from the Clone Wars [**]
FOOD AND DRINKS
Star Wars Menu Generator
In-Universe Alcoholic beverages
Canon Cocktails (recipes) [*]
Another In-Universe Drinks list shared by @systemic-dreams
Teas in Star Wars by marvel_dc_heart_throbs
Foodstuff [*]
Canon Star Wars Holiday Recipes [*]
Trask Chowder Recipe (from The Mandalorian) [*]
LANGUAGES; PHRASES AND SLANG; VOCABULARY
Languages of the Galaxy [*]
Script of different languages in the GFFA by @lucif-hare-blog
In-Universe phrases and slang [Google sheet]
List of phrases and slang [wookiepedia]
List of equivalents to real-world objects [wookiepidia]
Talk Like a Clone Trooper shared by @archeo-starwars
Aurebesh Translator [Aurebesh.org]
Learning Aurebesh Tools [Aurebesh.org] Reading - Writing.
Mando'a Database [Mando.org]
Mando'a Transcripticon [MandoCreator] (Create your own text in the Mando'a script.)
@project-shereshoy (Blog that collects and posts sources for Mando'a from all over the internet.)
Mandoâa Categorized Spreadsheet
Learning Mando'a Tools [MandoCreator] Reading - Writing.
Setting Thesaurus Entry: Spaceport [Writers helping writers]
Fan-created Conlangs
@dai-bendu-conlang (Jedi Culture Explored) (This blog is the home of the Dai Bendu Conlang, invented by the Archive of Our Own Users aroacejoot, @ghostwriterofthemachine, and loosingletters for the Jedi Order in Star Wars.)
Lasana Lexicon by Anath_Tsurugi (fandom lexicon of the Lasat Language)
HELPFUL BLOGS & SITES
The amazing @fox-trot, who not only makes astonishing art and write an amazing fic, she also responds to medical questions and gives all kinds of references for writing medic characters. Check her #medicposting tag and you'll find tons of information. Also check #star wars reference and her art tag while you're at it.
@writebetterstarwars, which seems to be inactive, but there are a bunch of references there.
@howtofightwrite The place to find out how to write a good fight scene.
@scriptmedic no longer active, but it has a great deal of useful information.
@scripttorture for your whump needs. Major trigger warning for all its content.
@sw-anthrobiology A blog dedicated to collecting headcanons about the biology and cultures of Star Wars species.
@archeo-starwars In-universe sources on culture and history.
@clonewarsarchives Resources & Concept Art Blog for The Clone Wars animated series.
Wookiepedia If you don't find something in here, it's probably because it doesn't exist, neither as a canon nor legends reference.
Star Wars Databank: The official Star Wars website's reference guide. All canon.
WRITING IN GENERAL (For those who don't want to die like Stormtroopers)
SlickWrite: Completely free; online. Checks grammar, punctuation, flow, and writing style according to different settings (including fiction writing).
ProWritingAid: [RECOMMENDED] One of the most thorough online proofreader I've ever used. Although when using a free account gives extremely thorough feedback, with +20 different in-depth reports, for only the first 500 words. However, you can earn a premium account license (for a year or for life) if you get 10 or 20 new users signing up for free; (if you wouldn't mind doing so using the link above and help me earn mine, please). The settings allow you to check your writing according to your needs, from general to formal to creative. It has a bonus that you can check depending on the genre you're writing. For example, in creative, you can choose romance or sci-fiction (there are 14 sub-genre in total). And just like google docs, you can share a document, and people can view, comment or edit it too.
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Legend
[*] Shared by @fox-trot [**] Shared by @gffa [***] Shared by @cacodaemonia.
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Heatwave: Day 1
tw: explicit content, 5k+ words, reader/sukuna. female!reader, beta!reader, alpha!sukuna, true form!sukuna. oral (male/female receiving), PIV, size difference, sukuna has a knot, sukuna is lowkey a masochist, some anal (not the reader's ass).
Prompt: Betas serving as royal sex concubines without fear of pregnancy.
It wasnât as bad as one might expect, being Ryomen Sukunaâs concubine.
Oh, he was terrifying, certainly. Death wasnât uncommon in the household, though rarer than some might think.
Sukuna traveled often, sampling both the lands and the people within them, returning to the estate only when it pleased him to do so.
Everyone in the estate knew their masterâs expectations and the consequences for not meeting them. Only the rare missteps resulted in punishments, though they were indeed brutal.
On some occasion, the lordâs aide would bring half-dead curses - or corpses of enemy sorcerers - to a separate building on the estate for some strange and nefarious purpose.
It made no difference to you. The estate was clean and well-maintained, the servants attentive, and the stocks never ran low.
You were living the perfect life.
No one denied you anything. You could summon merchants, make the odd trip into town, and entertain yourself however you wished, provided you fulfilled your responsibilities as a concubine.
You were a nobody before you came to the estate.
Youâre still a nobody, but everyone here is a nobody in Ryomen Sukunaâs eyes.
Your lifespans are determined by how useful you were to him at any given moment.
And he had an unexpected use for a common whore like you.
It was probably more surprising that you were a beta, and not an omega â infinitely more desirable for an alpha like the lord, one would assume.
Youâd never presumed to pry before, but itâs easy to speculate, after having known him long enough.
Heâs a powerful man, utterly indifferent to societal standards or norms. His desire and satisfaction were above all other things, just as he was above everyone weaker than him. And everyone was weaker than him.
It was hard to imagine him at the mercy of an omegaâs potent pheromones, longing for the comfort of his partnerâs nest, pining for the love of his mate, or driven madly to lust by the scent of a rut.
Or perhaps he indulged plenty, but so much fervor could only end in bloodlust on his part. Any omega summoned to his chambers to serve his pleasure never returned.
You do fare luckier in that respect. He may not have been gentle lover, but as long as youâd served him heâd left you with no more than bruises and bite marks.
And he could hurt you, destroy you, utterly disfigure you in permanent and terrifying ways⊠with just a casual glancing blow.
Sukuna is present on this night, though, and it appears heâs summoned you.
His aide, Uruame, is far closer to him than any of his concubines, and by now you know the sound of their footsteps slowing as they near your door.
They smile at you as you open the door for them, bowing before your eyes meet theirs.
Uruame is not fond of any of their lordâs concubines, as a rule. Being a beta themselves, itâs unlikely they understand Sukunaâs needs as an alpha any better than you do.
But what they can understand is that you respect their lord immensely. A sorcerer yourself, you know enough to appreciate the scale of his power, and you had never made any secret of your admiration.
Unlike many other concubines brought in, you had very little arrogance to show for your beauty and bedroom skills. Uruame probably does appreciate that.
Youâre a beta from a brothel, so you have no delusions of self-importance, but Sukuna, and by extension Uruame, couldnât care less where you came from.
You know their purpose as soon as they arrive; they donât need to engage in any inane conversation or instructions.
As soon as Sukuna had returned, youâd readied and dressed yourself in case he were to summon you. It happens more often than not whenever heâs back at the estate.
You suspect youâre the only one he summons during his rut.
His omega concubines are⊠single-use. Your fellow betas are few in number, and heâs no more forgiving with his concubines than he is his other servants.
You follow Uraume to his room. You canât tell if heâs in a rut or not, but your suspicion is confirmed as Uruame gives a short nod, then strides off.
Sukuna doesnât like being seen during his rut. Many have learned the hard way.
âWell? What are you waiting for, an invitation?â His voice is as gruff as ever. Low, heady, a delicious groan that sends shivers down your form.
He didnât ask to be answered, of course. The only appropriate response to Sukunaâs question is action.
Quickly you slide the door open and shut it behind yourself as you fall into a low bow. You donât meet his eyes without permission.
âGet up.â Your cue to sit up, to not bother with any further formalities. His rut must be well underway. âCome over already.â
You donât waste any more time. He sounds impatient, and he probably is, but any less deference could see your head separated from your body. Itâs especially important not to touch him first, to let him touch you.
Sukuna loathes being touched without permission.
Itâs not something you have to worry about, though. As soon as youâre within reach, one of his hands bears down onto your shoulder; to him, itâs as good as an explicit instruction.
You never subject Sukuna to the indignity of having to voice his desires.
Perhaps thatâs why he likes you so â thereâs a flash of something pure alpha, an intense delight in his eyes as you kneel and attend to him in prefect obedience and submission.
Falling to your knees at his feet, wasting not even a second, you work to free his painful erection from the confines of his clothes.
Practiced hands accomplish it easily, and youâre rewarded with a large hand that strokes through your hair, brushing it back out of your face and holding it there.
His erection springs forward, as impatient as he is. His knot is already swollen up.
Itâs red and flushed, pink to match his hair, heavy and thick like all the rest of his limbs.
Even an omega would blanch at taking such a monster. You are well-trained.
Itâs enough just to lick at it, some cursory strokes to wet the shaft with his precum, to touch your lips to his heated flesh. Searing, really.
Wide, open-mouthed kisses dragged along him until his cock is coated well enough with spit and his own pre.
Without any further hesitation you open your mouth wide and take him all the way down to the knot, lips thinning where his cock swells and throbs.
The head is already lodged in your throat, and you swallow as you take it down, pressing your lips in. A moan tells you heâs already growing sensitive.
It wouldnât feel very good for him to knot in your throat â heâs never bothered with it before â but thereâs always a flash of satisfaction in his eyes.
Sukuna doesnât want to knot your throat, but it pleases him to think that he could. That you are willing and ready to take it, if he wished.
âGood little beta." The mouth on his abdomen seems to grin at you, wide and dripping saliva.
A fire ignites in your belly at the praise, face heating up, your own mouth opening wide.
No matter what you are, Sukuna is an alpha through and through, and the desire to please surges as his hand presses you forward.
As a concubine or a common harlot, youâd always been good at your job.
Sorcery had delivered you from the streets and into Sukunaâs estate, and diligence, determination, had kept you alive throughout it all.
Others died around you. Weak. You would do whatever it took to survive, however ugly it may be.
Taking cock down your throat isnât even close to the most degrading thing youâve done, and at least thereâs only one man now for you to serve.
Heâs not even a bad lay. Either a suppressed instinct to please his mate as an alpha or some fortuitous chemistry has always ensured he brings you to release whenever you fuck.
The unmarred half of his face is undeniably handsome, and after all youâd seen, youâre utterly indifferent to the deformity. Itâs just there. A part of him like any other â the other arms, the other mouth.
Youâre sure you yourself have flaws in his eyes, but if he truly did not want you, youâd never have been allowed in his chambers to begin with. Sukuna is a man with absolutely no interest in pretenses. He takes what he wants, when he wants it, always.
Sometimes, you think that you and Sukuna arenât all that different after all.
An alpha who was malformed, cast out by society, recognized only in disgust or fear.
And you, sold by a father eager to make any money he could off a pretty beta daughter.
You were unfit to be an alphaâs bride, but perfectly suited to be every alphaâs whore.
If you wanted happiness, you had to seize it, even if it meant choking the life out of someone else.
Both of you were worth only as much as you could curse others. Sukunaâs worth is greater than yours, but in his shadow everyone is equally worthless, and in his gaze â at least for this moment â you are worthy of him.
The fingers in your hair tighten; a hiss, âTake it!â and you suckle diligently as you bob backwards, diving forward straight away to take him to the root again.
Inhuman though he may be, his cock is much the same as any other alphaâs, if a bit larger.
Hot, smooth skin, veins that pulse and bulge inside your mouth. A salty taste youâd grown accustomed to, a stretch in your mouth and your jaw that you ameliorated by focusing on hollowing your cheeks, dragging your tongue along it.
Betas canât purr, not like omegas or alphas can, but you approximate it with a hum, a gentle sigh through your nose and fluttering, lowered lashes.
A low exhalation. Controlled. âThere she isâŠâ The hand in your hair goes to stroke possessively over your cheek. âMy little beta. All for me.â
His eyes dilate in lust â you always meet his gaze while you do this, for as long as youâre able, you know he likes this â and you know before you feel the touch of his hand on your jaw to begin drawing back.
His hand barely ghosts you before you move, leaving trails of saliva strung between your lips and his shining cock while you gaze up at him.
Another theatric he enjoys. His tongue darts out from his lips, grasping and stroking himself, hand coated in a sweet-smelling oil you recognize.
His other arms reach to grasp you by the shoulder, pulling you up to stand and burying your face in his neck wordlessly.
They wrap around you, pulling you into him as he steps back to sit on the bed where you follow.
It surprises you every time, just how much your body comes alive at his touch.
Heart racing as if it can jump through your skin and into the hands that trace your throat, your collarbone, down your chest, dragging the slip of a robe youâd worn down with it.
Sukuna likes undressing you, alpha that he is.
Like youâre a sacred treasure to be unveiled only by his hands. You always wear something easy to take off, and nothing else.
His touch is your leave to respond in kind; heâs fully bared, now, all tattooed skin and corded muscle.
A warriorâs form, conveying power and strength in every divot and valley. Your heart races as you lay your hands on him.
Maybe itâs the thrill of it.
Sukuna is utterly untouchable. The greatest sorcerers of your time had died failing to scratch the smooth, unbroken skin he offers to you so freely.
As a concubine, you donât get much contact. Less still, since no one would dare lay a hand on a consort Sukuna summons so often to his side.
Normally that suited you just fine, but sometimes with him you feel like a dog straining on a leash.
Desperate for him to reach out, to feel him on you. Lust and adrenaline coursing through you the instant he makes contact.
Even as a beta, this close, itâs impossible not to smell him; heâs pulled you to his throat on instinct.
His scent glands are right there, and you donât hesitate to lick at them, letting your breath ghost over the hot, spit-slicked skin. Dragging your teeth along the swollen flesh.
Thatâs one of the things he likes best. He knows youâre a beta. You have no fangs, you couldnât mark him if you wanted to. Not with anything but curses.
But still, it is a pleasure. The salt on your tongue, the flesh that yields beneath your teeth, even without breaking, as the alphaâs aroma fills your senses.
Sukuna is spiced; harsh, in some ways, like cinnamon, but warm like a pleasant woodsmoke, like the heat of oil burning in a lamp. Just this side of decadent â opulent, almost, and still primal and raw.
It doesnât affect you like you imagine it would an alpha or omega. But itâs nice. He smells nice.
You donât hesitate to nip at his lips when he presses them to yours.
Perhaps one of the reasons Sukuna hates being touched without permission is because he also doesnât care to be touched gently.
If he werenât in rut, you would have dragged your teeth over his cock while it was in your mouth, but heâs not able to savor such services in his current state.
Theyâre red, so red, all his four eyes staring into you. Burning in want. In want of you.
âFierce little thing.â You can taste his grin, youâre close enough. âSee how fierce youâll be when youâre full of me. My beta. Mine.â
âYours,â You agree breathily, and lean back in to catch his mouth with your own.
His lips are one place youâre able to make him bleed, dragging the bottom lip beneath your teeth and pinching it, then darting your tongue in to taste.
Sukuna hums at the taste of metal in his mouth, sucks your tongue between his lips to press and purse and suckle on at his leisure. Brilliant red eyes half-lidded in lust.
Your hands get to work, one of them cupping his jaw and then his hair, brushing it back in a way that makes him preen now that heâs in rut and canât suppress it.
Alphas love getting petted, and Sukuna loves the scrape of fingernails over his scalp, a tight tug against his hair; it all sends his knot pulsing against you.
âHere. Your mouth had a taste, letâs see how your cunt likes it.â His arms lift you up just enough to sit over his well-muscled legs.
Your thighs spread while his cock falls forward, between your thighs.
Sukuna holds you there, just far enough, letting it rub against you with little tugs to your hips. Desire sparking like flint where his length rubs against you. Fuck.
Oh, you want him. Ache for him. It pulls low in your core, to lean into him, to feel his arms holding you in place, to feel him all against you.
You wrap your arms around him in return, clawing at his shoulders as the mouth on his stomach tongues between your legs. Itâs exquisite and agonizing all at once. Slick and dragging against you, heavy and broad.
Heâs already purring at the taste of you. Hands clenching in desire over the roundness of your hip.
You want him. You want him.
You can have him, take him, touch, touch, touch. Dig your teeth into the firm muscle against his neck to feel his purr grow louder under your teeth.
Your curse technique flickers at your fingertips, dancing over the open canvas of his back.
Inhaling sharply, you think you hear him swear, and then, âYes.â He laughs breathily, âMore. Put more into it. That canât be all youâve got.â
It isnât. The sound of him is everywhere now, vibrations that shake you all the way to your core.
The mouth on his belly still laps at your folds. It drools on your folds like youâre a meal he cannot wait to savor.
Sukuna is already running hot. Itâs too easy when heâs like this, all heated, blood pumping heavy through every part of him.
Just beneath the surface you feel it; searing, boiling, heat jumping up to meet your touch. Like liquid fire underneath his skin, youâd heard it described. Exhilarating, Sukuna had called it.
A talent half-learned by accident in the steamy, lurid, filthy recesses of the brothel youâd worked at. A dark place filled with malice and jealousy, reeking of curses in every corner. One day youâd awoken with a strength that sung in your veins, screamed to be used.
You had learned to vanquish shadows with a flick of your wrist, the creatures bursting from the inside.
Once, on a lark, youâd tried it on a client who struggled to maintain his hardness. It had been remarkably effective, pooling blood in his cock, and with a little work you were able to reproduce it in other ways.
It had all been success from there. Climbing the ranks, scoring pleasure into the flesh of those who paid you well enough.
Oh, it was painful, too, but what pleasure in life came without a little pain? If you wanted something, you had to be willing to sacrifice for it.
A founding principle of jujutsu. Itâs no wonder Sukuna so delights in battle, either against sorcerers or in his own bed; when you heat his blood in his veins it sends his knot pulsing, throbbing, twitching in excitement as pre drips out.
With him holding you so close you can feel his purring throughout your whole body.
A rare pleasure, a prize you win with vicious effort, cursed energy surging in your hands as you rake your nails over the glorious, muscled expanse of his back.
âOpen,â Sukuna commands.
Itâs a tone that never fails that make you tremble in anticipation. Your cunt is already dripping with it.
The part of your legs widen, and you lean back to look down at where heâs settled against you.
Heâs so large. Always so large. The knot swelling already.
Youâre clenching already, quivering, like youâre the one in heat and not he in his rut.
God, you want him to fuck you already.
One massive hand reaches down, stroking over his cock, wet with your saliva, his precum, and the oil substitute for an omegaâs slick.
It nudges at your cunt and you let out a short whimper that sends him snarling, thick fingers digging sweet bruises into your hips.
âAlways so sweet for me,â His lips ghost over your temple as he stares down, âDelectable. Strong little thing, you can take it.â
The head of his cock slots against your entrance. Fuck, itâs hot, burning, searing, youâre so fucking ready, your cunt is weeping and you feel like keening for it, âPlease. Alpha, please.â
You can almost see it in his eyes, red and feral with need. Omega, my omega, my mate â all the things youâve heard from alphas before.
Clingy, possessive, biting at you, rutting into you like they can breed you. All the filthy things whose beds youâd warmed in the past.
They all pale in comparison to the King of Curses. Hot and throbbing and silken against your entrance, the deep grunt of effort that you feel when he lines himself up and drives himself in.
The very sensation knocks the wind out of you.
Sukuna slides in easily but itâs tight, so tight, always. You feel him feel it, too, all those muscles growing taut before you as he sinks into you.
Your arms tremble before they remember what to do; grasping carelessly at his shoulders, clawing for purchase as the whines claw their way up your throat. Theyâre shoved back down by the deep moan you make when he reaches the end of your passage.
âF-fuck,â itâs good, itâs so good, it hurts so good and thereâs nothing you can do but sit there and take it. Just as he told you to.
Itâs always a bit painful, but thereâs a pleasure in it, too, the piercing delight of being so thoroughly fucked into. You swear you feel yourself dripping out where he enters you, and you moan again at the feeling of him dragging himself out.
A low noise, a chuckle; like every sound Sukuna makes, you feel it just as much as you hear it.
âDo it again.â He demands, and you would never make the alpha wait.
You couldnât even if you wanted to.
He pushes into you again and your moans crack, because he slides through easier this time but itâs just so big, so fucking huge you feel your walls trying to flex, envelop him, desperate to find any give at all, but thereâs just no give.
Itâs like having solid steel lodged inside you, burning hot and smooth against your core.
âGood beta.â Sukuna effortlessly lifts you up by the hips, dragging you off his cock and savoring how you whine at its loss, âMy good little beta. Squeezing me so tight.â
He drops you down, down, back onto him. Cock thrusting up into you, cleaving your cunt apart, hitting a spot that makes you wail. Sukuna laughs, and you can feel his cock twitching.
âNeed my cock, do you, little beta?â The rut is at its height now, pulling him in, smearing possession all over his face, his evil grin. âEven if it breaks you apart?â
All you can do is nod while you pant. He pulls you up and down by the waist, fucking you on his cock like a tool for his pleasure â
And Sukuna has never failed to use a tool to its fullest extent. âFuck, fuck â fuck, alpha, please â please, please â â
His own laughter is broken up by heavy breaths. One of his huge hands grasps you by the scruff of your neck, and you try to go obediently limp but your whole body jerks with the unrestrained force of his fucking into you.
Tight and unforgiving, baring your throat for him to dive into. An alpha in the midst of his rut. His teeth graze over your neck, licking where scent glands would normally be.
âPlease,â Your breath catches in your throat at Sukunaâs kiss, all teeth and feral smiles pressed into your skin.
He stays like that for a moment, knot pulsing desperately just outside of your cunt.
Grinding into you like he thinks he can fit it in â you both know it canât, you simply donât have the anatomical space of an omega. But it feels good.
So good. It rubs, hot and throbbing against your clit, and fuck if you donât nearly cum from it right there, tightness in your core heavy and ready to burst.
âSukuna,â You say his name in a broken moan.
Teeth in your jugular. Hot tongue over your throat.
Hands gripping your sides. Moving you up and down like a puppet.
Cock pressing and pressing into you, relentless. Pleasure lapping at your insides as his cock rocks into you, begging to be let in.
A thumb on your clit, rubbing circles. âCum, beta. Cum for your alpha â hngh â cum now â â
Pleasure bursts through you, as if brought to life by his words. White hot and overflowing, every part of your body floating on air.
Itâs like youâre a feather in his hands. Airy lightness fills you and even the stretch between your legs feels pleasant, a welcome intrusion, cunt blissfully numb.
Sukuna fucks you through it all the while, breathless, determined, on the brink himself as he chases the friction of you squeezing the life out of him.
You twitch in his grasp, aftershocks trembling through. He holds you upright easily, letting your head fall forward while he drags you up and down, mindlessly brushing his burning knot against your entrance.
Itâs several moments before you catch yourself; it makes no difference to Sukuna. Your climax brought him closer, but not there, not just yet.
Itâs with the giddy sort of warmth your afterglow brings that you lazily grope the space next to the bed.
You find the vial of oil heâd used earlier, and easily unscrew the top and spread it across your fingers with a single hand.
Sukuna had stared a moment the first time he saw you do that. So you have a sorcererâs dexterity after all, heâd said, and it was the compliment youâd treasured most to date.
This time, his eyes donât leave your body. All four of them, red and fiery and burning into you. Your chest. Your face.
They linger where your bodies are joined, at the stretch of your cunt taking him, the hole that has no more to give him but squeezes him anyways.
You can tell by his ragged breaths he needs more stimulation, heavy in rut and knotted tight as he is. Thatâs fine. Youâve done this before.
Slicked fingers find his waist, and then lower, to his ass. He parts his knees further, as if for more leverage to thrust fruitlessly against you, and you take the opportunity to squeeze one well-muscled cheek with your dripping hand.
The sharp inhale â youâre sure heâd hate to hear it called a gasp â âBeta!â â Â tells you youâre free to go ahead.
So you do, digging your fingertips into his ass, into a hole too well-oiled to not have been prepared beforehand.
A rumble swells, in his chest, his throat, pressing hard against you along with his cock, nudging his knot further against your entrance.
You tease along the rim and then drive into it. He hisses as it burns, knot throbbing against you, massive hands squeezing bruises and then caressing them as soon as they bloom. Â
Itâs delicious, the way it clenches at your fingertips, tight and furled up, but you slip in easily with his preparation and your oiled fingers.
Darting into the yielding warmth of his insides, a pleasure that has him seizing against you, all muscle and magnificent form trained on your touch.
Your cunt clenches at the thought, the power you have in this moment; it squeezes the cock spearing you and sends tremors through his form.
âClever girl,â He rumbles as you drag along his insides, âClever fingers,â another heavy thrust, fingers twitching, âMore,â thrust, shudder, âMore!â
With a heated urgency your fingers curl, feeling, pressing around in a way that has Sukuna panting, teething at your shoulder, kneading hands against your hips while you search for just the right spot.
His knot presses insistently against your entrance, where thereâs no space for you to receive it, but it catches on your oversensitive clit enough to make you gasp and whine.
Sukuna grins, mouth wide open, drooling like the feral, satisfied monster he was.
âBetaâŠâ he hums, and it feels like heâs saying your name, as close to a loving coo as a creature like him can make.
And then, then, you find it, as you have so many times before. A high, keening noise Sukuna would be otherwise unwilling to part with, drawn out from him in the height of his rut.
You press into a bundle of flesh through his insides. A spot that sends him rutting wildly against you, unconcerned with his knot or anything besides fucking and feeling more of that pressure into him.
Itâs almost all you can do to keep it coming, your other arm flailing desperately to reach around him for any kind of purchase while he thrusts your mind away.
Pleasure finds you again but this is liquid flames instead of white hot.
It pours out from you, spilling everywhere, the feeling of his release spurting inside you.
Full, full, fuller, so full you swear youâre bursting, it feels so fucking good. Flowing out over his cock, against your cunt, where his hurried thrusts squeezes it into a lewd, sopping met against your clit.
This one brings tears to your eyes. The sound of it, wet and squelching, utterly lewd, like you can feel the tremors of pleasure that have you milking him for cum that cannot impregnate you.
His hands are all that ground you, points on your body where his touch had ceased to be painful, to be anything but a feeling of him against you, the warm and powerful alpha whoâd taken you to his bed, monster or not.
Sukuna groans and pants his heart out, still fucking into you while your eyes are glassy and all movement has left your body.
Your clever little hand fallen to the side as its purpose was fulfilled, his knot finally unraveling into the delicious joy of breeding you.
Ahh. He can admit the look in his eyes when he looks at you is fondness, to some degree. His perfect little beta. Wicked fingers and the smartest mouth heâd ever seen. Always so good for him.
He lays himself down alongside you on the bed, still buried deep in you, cum leaking slowly away.
The mess never bothered him, not in the torrid, heated moments of bodies entwined. Heâd bathe with you later.
So warm. Always warm and welcoming him, your cunt is the most exquisite hole heâs ever known, but itâs the rest of you that makes it worth his time. Every time.
Thereâs something about it that sends a frenzy through him.
A hurried urge, like a desire to run or jump or lash out, but instead it makes him want to wrap his entire self around you and laugh in wicked delight.
It feels like fire on the battlefield, blood on his tongue, power coursing through every pore, seas ready to part at his command. It feels like strength, but heâs not even holding you very tightly.
He takes a deep breath, face pressed to your hair; beta. A faint, pure, neutral scent, so unmistakable in its cause. It elicits no particular reaction, stirs no great curiosity or lust.
But you do. Itâs easy, natural, to wrap all four arms around you and squeeze. Your perfect figure yielding in his grasp, compressing beneath him, legs folding as he swings one over yours.
A purr rumbles deep in his chest as the sensation envelops him.
Touching, holding, entwined. You, completely full of him, made docile with his cum and his knot, surrendering to his embrace. All his. All for him.
Your boneless, weak figure in his arms, the little sigh of bliss you let out⊠itâs a feeling thatâs only come to him in the midst of battle, curses coursing, glorious, in every direction.
A thrill of triumph that enervates, lightens every one of his limbs and sets him with a feeling of utter satisfaction.
Sukuna is purring in earnest now, and he canât even bring himself to be annoyed by it.
Why suppress his instincts for the beta that so perfectly warms his bed? Why restrain himself in any way, when youâre wholly incapable of binding him, of bearing pups or marking him, and serve him with such delectable vigor?
An arm, so much smaller than his, slowly slips itself over his waist. Youâre barely conscious, pretty face all flushed from your climax, unable to even open your eyes.
But your head drifts towards his chest even while asleep, where the vibrations are the strongest. Tucked under his neck, nestled in him and his scent.
An alphaâs purr is usually a sign of contentment, but itâs supposed to be soothing to omegas. As far as he knows, it doesnât have any particular effect on betas.
Sukuna supposes itâs probably just you.
Itâs so easy to reduce you to want, to unrestrained lust, pure and devoted entirely to him. Why should he need an omega when he has this at his beck and call?
You canât be bred, of course â that was the whole point of using a beta. But sometimes he does wonder.
What you would look like if you were with child. Breasts heavy with milk, the mild scent of a beta humming with the life nurtured within.
Youâre strong. Youâd produce fine offspring. Your curse technique is interesting in its own right â igniting a personâs own cursed energy from beneath their skin. Not remarkable in effectiveness, but wholly unique in its operation.
Would it stop his ruts, to see you pregnant for some time? Youâre the only one he spends them with, so seeing you pregnant might just delay them, without the influence of an omegaâs hormones.Â
Would he grow more aggressive as you neared delivery? Would his instincts command him to slay your spawn so he could fill you with his own?
Uruame is a beta, and has the necessary parts. He could breed you without all the tiresome mechanics of a bond between alpha and omega; place his two favorite subjects together and watch as his loyal subject bred his most treasured concubine for him.Â
Watching you take in the seed of someone other than him⊠but Uruame is a beta, and belongs to him as much as you do. If he scented them as well, perhaps? They always had very little scent of their own.
Heat stirs within him at the thought. Itâs too early to tell if itâs anger at the idea or arousal, especially in the state heâs in.
You make a little noise, and all four eyes shoot down to look over your form, all sweat and heat and dripping cum.
He shifts to move some of his weight off of you, sliding onto his back and settling your head on his chest so you can drift to sleep to the sound of his purring.
After all, his rut is just beginning. Sukuna can spare you some restâŠ
For an hour or so.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#omegaverse#beta!reader#alpha!sukuna#lemon#sukuna smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#afab!reader#female!reader
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CALL OF THE SEA / PART FIFTEEN
pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, hallucainations/hearing voices??, inaccurate depictions of medicine, idk how ppl made medicines in 1800s but idc its fiction masterlist a/n: thank u for the love from the hurricane i went thru!! i'm okay and back in business, i love u guys <3 things are gonna get a lil spicyyy
When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.
âDove,â a voice singsonged, a whisper in the wind that whisked away almost as soon as it appeared.
You halted in your steps, whipping your head around. Standing on the deck, you knew you were alone. You had just been on your way to collect your variety of herbs and powders to teach the Captain of medicine making, yet the sense of dread overtook you the moment you heard your name called out.
Looking out into the vast sea, there was nothing. A heavy mist clouded the air from the storm that was brewing mere lengths away, its arrival unknown. It clouded over the horizon, hiding away what lay beyond in the dull, gray atmosphere.
Yet, Graves had spoken yet again, as if he had sent his voice to travel miles upon miles just to get a rile out of you. It felt like a warning, letting you know he was still present, and very much still attached.
âThe one who heals the ill and poor,â Graves echoed tauntingly, a dark chuckle rasping at the end of his words. âThe one who has the 141 in knots. Thatâs you, isnât it, dove?â
You couldnât see him, and you werenât sure whether that was ideal or not. You knew he wasnât there physically, hell, you werenât sure it was even really him talking. Your mind could be playing tricks on you.
The words of the prophecy were spoken with such mockery, the ones referring to your very role. The venom in his tone made you queasy. A cold chill dripped down your spine, causing the hairs on your neck to stand.
âOh, this will be fun,â he cooed. âIâll be seeing you.â
Stood frozen in place, you couldnât tear your eyes away from the horizon. It was gloomy, and you were beginning to mirror that feeling. You felt toyed with â like a puppet on a shelf, waiting to be used when Graves deemed you useful.
âWhat are ye doinâ down there, dove?â a voice called. âLooks like ye seen a ghost.â
The faint snickering had you tilting your head up in the direction it came from. Soap sat high up in the crowâs nest, peering down at you mischievously. His broad arms rested on the rim of the nest, leaning lazily.
âI am fine,â you scowled, quickly regaining your composure. Graves crept menacingly in the corners of your mind. âWhat are you doing up there?â
âSheâs a crowâs nest for a reason. Iâm watchinâ for the storm, seeinâ if I can spot anythinâ out of the ordinary like Iâm a bird, birdieâ Soap explained with a grin, cocking his head. âWhat are ye doinâ down there?â
You frowned at him, unamused. âI plan on teaching the Captain how to make medicine,â you replied. âIâm just going to collect my things. It is wealthy to have knowledge in medicines, you know.â
Soap blew out a puff of air, waving his hand dismissively. âIf I have any more knowledge up in this nogginâ of mine, it might explode.â He made a point of knocking his knuckles against his head.
âI do not believe there is much in there at all,â you sighed, unable to force a small smile away. Even in times of fear and uncertainty, you couldnât deny the way Soap put you at ease.
âAch, yer a bird that bites. What happened to beinâ a sweet bird?â he mumbled in feigned hurt, lips puckered into a pouted frown.
Your smile grew and you shook your head. âWhere is Ghost?â you asked. Soap rubbed the back of his neck, fingers twirling into his messy mullet.
âThat lad. Locked himself up again, he did. I think the weatherâs makinâ him all moody. He helped me out for a bit before goinâ back, so Iâm not sure whatâs wrong,â he explained sympathetically. There was a hint of hurt at being shut out.
It made you recall the two of them. Embracing. Whispering amongst each other. Ghost, unmasked, leaning into his touch.
You tried your hardest to not let it shift your expression, even if it dug a little hole somewhere in your heart to be reminded of what you didnât have.
âI see,â you hummed, playing off your tormenting thoughts and shoving them to the side with the rest. âI am⊠happy that he has someone like you.â
Soapâs eyebrows rose in surprise. He stared at you, confused, before smiling softly. âAh, câmon, dove. Ye got us, too.â
Not in the way your heart longed for. But that was a thought that attempted to fiddle with your mind and leave you stranded on an island of foreign feelings far, far away.
You werenât sure what you desired, anyway.
âRight,â you agreed with a curt nod. âIâll be going now. Please, do not fall while Iâm gone â or do. I have not been able to aid anybody in quite a long time.â
Soap laughed, the sound rumbling you to the core. âMean liâl bird,â he teased.
With a smile, you continued on to your quarters, shoving any strange ideas behind and focusing on the task at hand. Price was still waiting for you, after all.
Entering your shared space, you nearly cursed the world for putting Gaz in there. While you hadnât quite avoided him like you wanted to, that was due to the others being around. Now, here alone, was different.
âHello, Gaz,â you greeted stiffly, giving him a nod. You quickly retreated to your side of the room, which really was Soapâs clutter. You needed to organize it soon or you may lose your mind.
âDove,â Gaz hummed from where he laid in bed, arms resting behind his head in a lazy position. His eyes followed you like a hawk as you rummaged through the bag taken from your village on your first night with the pirates.
The resources youâd been forced to bring so long ago were now going to be of use, which was something you wished to be excited forâyet, the elephant in the room was a downpour on your mood.
You felt ridiculous. It was not as if you were avoiding him in rejectionâit was that it was not rejection that you were avoiding him.
Your heartstrings seemed to tighten and pull whenever he was near, and it made you feel crazy. It felt like you couldnât catch a break, constantly toying with your own feelings.
What was this feeling of longing you so hopelessly seemed to feel differently with each of them? Was it still the craving for a sense of belonging?
âIs someone hurt?â
You glanced up from your bag, fingers pausing. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before realization took over and you shook your head. âNo. I am teaching Price the ways of medicine.â
So much for avoiding him.
âIs that so?â he asked. You werenât sure why his tone seemed so⊠off. As if there were a taste of bitterness to it.
You recalled the night you threw your food at him from the stuffiness of your cell below deck when he had done nothing but try and quench your hunger. He truly was not a fan of you, nor you him. While you were scared, he was protective of his kin.
Now, his tone was a grave reminder of how much time had passed, and how different things were.
You gave him another stiff nod, watching as he stood from the bed. Your heart pounded in your chest, banging against your rib cage with every step he took closer.
When he finally stopped, he was mere inches away, standing tall and proud over you. You focused your gaze on his chest, mapping the loosely tied strings that hung from the middle of his billowy shirt. You were overcome with spikes of awkward anxiety and unable to connect eyes with him.
Seeing this, he tilted his head down, cocked to the side in a mocking way. He forced your gaze to meet his from leaning down alone, and you held your breath at the sight of slight annoyance burrowed somewhere in his expression.
âAre you avoidinâ me?â he asked lowly.
You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat. Your hands grew clammy, and you couldnât take them out of your bag to wipe them on your dress or else heâd know.
âNo,â you stammered, frowning. âI am justâ Price is waiting for me.â
Was he angry that you did not reciprocate a kiss? It was not your faultâyou had never shared one.
âThere is no playful banter. Nor even a gaze in the eye,â he commented.
âI am looking at you right now,â you defended weakly.
âWhat youâre doinâ is actinâ different,â he said slyly, mirroring your frown. âWhat, you hand me a gift, a beautiful one, and now that I have read the signs wrong, you wish to hide from me?â
âThatââ You inhaled sharply. âThat is not what is happening.â
âSo, I have read them right, then.â
âI do not know what signs you are referring to.â
âDonât be daft, dove.â
Your fingers tightened around a small jar in your bag, knuckles going white. You wanted to avoid the forced eye contact altogether, but now you could not look away. It was as if you were in a trance.
âIt is improper to refer to a woman as daft,â you hissed in defense.
âYouâre unlike any woman Iâve ever met,â Gaz mused, his head tilting once again.
This is what he wanted, and you were giving it to him. He wanted the banter, the jests, to see you grow irritated to tug a reaction from you, and unfortunately, it was working.
âYou have never been kissed before?â he continued.
Your ears were beginning to ring. Your entire body felt hot to the touch, like a scorching fire burned through your veins and trickled its way up to your brain.
âThat is inappropriate, Gaz,â you tried, though your defense was weak. He was right. He was always right, and you hated it. âI must return to Price. IâI cannot have this conversation.â
âYou will have to avoid the whole sea if you believe I am the only one,â he stated calmly, growing soft now that his initial annoyance was wearing off. âDo not make me the one to suffer.â
You stared at him, mouth opened to speak but the words lost in translation. You felt like you were betraying yourself by choosing to avoid him out of mere uncertainty. You were only doing a disservice to yourself.
The words he spoke laid heavy on your mind, but you were unable to decipher the true meaning. Perhaps you were avoiding that, too.
The two of you said nothing, sitting in tense silence as you hurried to throw your bag over your shoulder. You didnât want Price to slam open his door and search for you, believing you accidentally fell into the treacherous waters and sunk below the angry sea.
You shuffled to the door, hand hovering over the handle. You risked a weary glance over your shoulder, seeing Gaz standing and watching you with keen eyes, a glint of something unrecognizable in them.
You had nobody else to feel sorry for but yourself.
âI will not avoid you,â you muttered quietly. âI do not think I have the strength to do so, anyway. Not with you.â
You tugged open the door, excusing yourself.
The chill in the air was refreshing against your warm skin, cooling off the heat that radiated off of you like a furnace. As you returned to Priceâs quarters, your mind was scrambled, overloaded with millions of thoughts that plagued you.
The wind rustled and blew, and you could only pray there wasnât a familiar whisper hiding in its trail. It seemed as if the universe had plenty of tricks up its sleeve today, and it was dealing them all to you one by one.
When you looked up at the crowâs nest as you walked by, Soap remained. He gave you a smile when you passed, and it made the worry in your stomach simmer to a low boil.
âYou took quite some time,â Price noted as you stepped inside. âDid you walk the plank along your way?â
You chuckled, shaking your head and shooing the bag off your shoulder. It fell to the desk with a small thud. âI ran into Soap,â you explained.
âI see.â Price smiled in acknowledgment. âAlright, dove. Letâs begin, hm?â
âYou are not very good at this.â
You watched as Price attempted to grind a mix of herbs and powder in the bowl you lent him. Teaching him how to make a paste meant for burns proved fruitless, as he seemed to mess up the measurements when you werenât looking.
âThatâs why youâre the expert, dove,â he huffed in annoyance, laser focused on grinding the end of the wooden stick into the roundness of the bowl, mashing down the mixture. âI do not see how this will become a paste.â
âDid you mix in the drops of water like I told you?â you asked.
He glowered at the clear dropper you held up, which seemed just as full as when you first started. He snatched it up, squeezing a couple of drops into the failed paste for good measure, then continued mixing.
âWas I correct?â you teased, peering down into the bowl. You were pleased to see it mixing much more smoothly, almost like thick butter.
âSilence,â he grunted, shooting a weak glare your way. âI pray this medicine proves to be useful.â
âIt is for burns to ease the flare up of the skin,â you explained, keeping an eye on the mixture. âI am sure it will come in handy.â
Price hummed, mashing the paste until he seemed satisfied. He shifted the bowl towards you, waiting for approval. The idea of it made you snortâa Captain, seeking approval from his ex-prisoner.
âIt is not bad,â you praised, earning him a furrow of his eyebrows. âMuch better after the water.â
He gave you a look, unamused, eyeing you as you shoveled the paste into an empty jar. You were happy to add it to the collection, though you wished you had the opportunity for a room for yourself to display them. Soap and Gazâs room was feeling crowded.
âI am only teasing,â you said with a smile. âItâs almost as good as mine.â
Price snorted, smiling back. âAye, Iâm a Captain, not a medic. Thatâs your specialty,â he retorted.
âAnd will this medic ever get a room of her own? Or perhaps a place to work?â
He raised an eyebrow. You mirrored him. âAre the boys not fun to room with?â
Images of Gaz earlier flashed in your mind. You swallowed. âNo, they are just fine. But I am a woman, after all. It is not⊠suitable.â
Price made a noise of acknowledgment, nodding slow. He seemed to be thinking, a hand brushing through his beard and stroking his bottom lip.
âThat is⊠understandable. Forgive me, I have not had a woman on my ship until you. It slipped my mind that you roominâ with those two may not be entirely appropriate,â he replied thoughtfully.
âYou forced me to sleep with you on my first night out of the brig,â you reminded him.
Price paused his stroking, blinking at you. For a moment, you lost him, his mind running astray. You could only stare back patiently.
âWould you prefer to stay here, then?â he asked. âYou may find much more peace in here than with them., or if you'd like, you may switch off between quarters.â
You felt your body tense up at the mere thought. You knew no matter who you stayed with, it would be a gamble. Each of them had your heart on lock in an unfamiliar way, and the thought of staying with Price again had your stomach twisting into knots.
Gaz popped up once again, and you wondered if that decision would solidify your act in avoiding him. A pang of guilt hit your chest.
âYou would not mind?â you asked wearily.
Price shrugged. âI may prefer it, actually.â
Your expression morphed into confusion, eyebrows pulling together and lips curling into a frown. Heâd prefer to spend nights with you, rather than allowing you to cram into a small bed with Soap in the late hours of the night?
You thought the Captain valued his privacy and solitude. Now that he was offering you to stay on his own rather than out of fear of you running off to islands unknown, it felt much more personal.
âYouâd prefer it?â
âYes,â he confirmed.
âWhy?â
The Captain paused, narrowing his eyes at you. You were curious at to what he could be thinking about.
The door to his quarters opened, silencing your conversation rather quickly. The wind sounded much louder now without barriers between the inside and outside, and when you whipped your head to look at the doorway, Soap stood, drenched in water.
You were so focused on your time with Price and your craft, you hadnât noticed the uneasy rockiness of the ship that seemed to grow with every second.
âThe stormâs brewinâ real fast, Cap,â Soap breathed, lightly heaving. He mustâve climbed down the nest in a haste. âWe need to get her steady. Itâs cominâ down faster than we thought.â
The Captain stood quickly, giving him a nod. âGo collect Gaz and Ghost,â he ordered. Soap agreed, tossing the door closed and leaving you alone. âDove, youâre stayinâ here.â
âI must be of helpââ
âHere,â he repeated, tapping his finger on the desk. âThatâs an order.â
You wanted to protest, but the look on his face was gloomy. You watched him leave his quarters and enter the battlefield of heavy rain that spilled over on to the deck.
Something in your heart tugged, but this time, not out of longing, or envyâit was worry. Sure, you faced many storms in your village, but never on a ship where one wrong move could send you right below the waves and have you never come back up again.
You felt helpless as you sat, thumbs twiddling mindlessly in your lap as you hoped and pray the ship would become steady enough for them to return to safety.
âDove.â
The crashing sound of cracking thunder had you jolting in your seat. You did as the Captain ordered and stayed put, but you were becoming restless. The longer you stayed, the more your feeling of cold dread grew.
You knew where it was coming from. It was the very thing living inside your head, and you wondered if Ghost could hear it, too.
You couldnât sit anymore. You got to your feet, quickly throwing open the door to a monsoon.
The ship swayed with the heavy, angry waves that crashed harshly against the sides of the ship. It made you lose balance, and you grabbed on to the doorway to steady.
Gaz and Soap stood under the rainfall, water soaking into their skin and clothes as they heaved the sails closed, holding the ropes to guaranteed they stayed.
Ghost was lifting heavy baggage that had yet to be stored away, thrown over his shoulder as he hurried to transport them to a dry part of the ship.
The Captain stood at the helm, his hair flat against his forehead and dripping water all the way down to his beard. He was mastering the steering of the ship, barking orders at Soap and Gaz while the two attempted to keep the sails at bay.
âIsnât this fun, dove?â Graves whispered. You wished you could claw out your own eardrums.
You knew he was near. Before, you couldnât feel his presenceânow, it felt stronger than ever.
You frantically looked around, hoping to spot him somewhere out at sea, but the rain was too heavy. The sky had been darkening, giving off an ominous hue covered by storm clouds. You wouldnât be able to see him from below.
Your eyes landed on the crowâs nest, the net of rope leading up to it swaying in the crazy wind. Soap had been up there mere hours ago, watching the storm and charting its location.
Without a moment of hesitation, you sprinted in the cold rain, heading towards your destination.
âDove?â Soap called out in confusion, before recognizing you. âDove! What are ye doinâ?â
You began your ascent, just as Gaz had joined in calling for you. With them unable to leave the ropes of the sails behind, they couldnât chase after you, stopping you from your foolish moment of cleverness.
âWhat the hell is she doinâ out?â Price growled, his firm voice quieter in the winds chasing it away.
The rope creaked as you planted your feet in the gaps, climbing your way up to the nest. The higher up you got, the more the breeze increased its abuse, whipping along your face in a serious of angry smacks.
The pirateâs voices grew farther away as you approached the crowâs nest. Their tones were ones of concern, fear, and worry as you scrambled your way on to the rugged, old wood platform, hauling yourself up.
You needed to know if your thoughts were trueâif Graves truly was here, or if it was another one of his tricks.
You stood on the crowâs nest, holding yourself steady with a firm grip of the sides. You looked out into the void, scanning for anything, any signâand there it was.
A ship, not too far off in the distance, swaying with the waves with its front nose pointed in the direction of your ship. A large sail flapped in the wind, and it was so misty you nearly couldnât see it until a familiar white outline of a skull appeared, waving as if saying hello.
Graves was setting sail right towards the ship, and he had every intention of riding out the storm until he reached you.
#call of duty#cod#cod x reader#call of the sea#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley#kyle gaz garrick#john price#john soap mactavish#captain john price x reader#john price x reader#price x reader#captain price#ghost cod#ghost x reader#soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish#kyle garrick x reader#gaz x reader#gaz cod#pirate!141#poly 141 x reader#poly 141
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Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 2
(Unicorn Centaur Riddle wearing his dorm clothes. His hooves are golden as well, but he often wears red covers over them to prevent dirt buildup since it is harder for him to clean out his hooves and he refuses to ask Trey for help most times)
Warnings; Several yanderes, platonic yanderes, romantic yanderes, yandere behavior, monster au, fem reader, very few know reader is fem so mostly they/them pronouns used, deranged behavior, centaurs, unicorns, Nemean lions, Vampire Bats, selkies, minotaurs, genies, nagas, magic, talk of eating humans, arguing, mention of virginity, slight Monster AU history mentioned,
~~~~~~~~
The thorn prince arrived to a scene of chaos as he exited the portal from Diasomnia. Many new students were lost and confused as they had been told to stay put while most of the Housewardens searched the halls, some Vice-Housewardens were desperately trying to keep the peace or even join the search at the behest of the Headmage. He certainly wasn't concerned about what they may be searching for, instead he started heading towards his own Vice-Housewarden with a slight spring in his step, joyful at finding such an odd little creature in Diasomnia.
"Lilia."
The casual summons had the bat Fae Vice-Housewarden turning to look at the newcomer who had not been expected to make an appearance after receiving no invitation. Naturally, Lilia was surprised that the dour Dragon chose to go against his own code of conduct and arrive at a ceremony he had no true part in. His stern expression did not seem so serious, making Lilia wonder just what had happened to bring Malleus of all students to his side.
"Malleus? I didn't expect to see you here without invitation."
"Yes, well," the prince pouted in response to the reminder, "I have plenty good reason to seek you out despite the lack of invitation."
"Oh? Do tell. You aren't often so brazen about casually entering the company of others."
"The Gargoyles have borne a child of flesh and not stone."
"... What?"
"I found the soft being sleeping beneath the Human-Gargoyle that was made 1010 years ago. They look much like the Gargoyle and don't seem to be of any other Twisted Wonderland species. As they seemed so fragile and their stone parents weren't keen to protect them, I took them to my nest. Of course, it is odd the Gargoyle child was clothed so shortly after being birthed, but removing their shoes to lay them to rest was of no trouble to me."
The conversation had drawn the attention of both the frazzled and the curious who were also equally shocked to see Malleus in the flesh. Of course, it didn't take long for the crow Headmage to intervene, figuring what had happened rather quickly. Before the Headmage could speak, however, Lilia beat him to the punch with a much more patient tone and approach.
"Malleus, after centuries of studying Gargoyles, what do you know is true about all Gargoyles?"
"They are stone of various kinds. They double as spouts to keep water from gathering on roofs. They are often depictions of animals, creatures, and other beings."
"How often have you encountered a Gargoyle that has produced an infant?"
"..."
"How often have you encountered a Gargoyle that has produced an infant of flesh and blood?"
"..."
Lilia would have laughed in a good humored way if he were not being watched by all of the new students and their seniors who had come to aid them in settling in. It was not Malleus' fault that he came to the conclusion that the Gargoyles had produced offspring, the truth was just as far fetched.
What was interesting Lilia more than the topic at hand was the fact Malleus had taken the wayward Human into his nest. Dragons were rarely keen to share things like their nests or their hoard with others, especially those they know little about. The simple fact that Malleus took the human into his nest was enough to show that the dragon had already taken a unique interest and intended to make the Human a member of his living hoard. Malleus may not often take new creatures or items for his hoard, but the few he claimed had little room to argue as the Dragon was fiercely protective of those he viewed as his.
"What you found, Malleus, is an actual Human. Ironic they took shelter beneath a Human Gargoyle, but they had fled from here perhaps an hour before you arrived. They must have decided to use one of the portals to flee and wound up in Diasomnia instead where you found them. Don't worry, I can get them from your nest so they don't-"
"You will not be taking the Human from my nest, Lilia."
"Oh? Keeheehee~ Have you taken a liking to them, Malleus? Humans are very fragile, you know."
"They may not be the child of a Gargoyle, like I thought them to be, but that does not change the fact that they are in my nest, and under my protection."
It was then a sneering scoff came from the crowd, the new students quickly parting to let the intimidating Nemean Lion strut forward with his tail flicking in annoyance. The man himself had beautiful sun-kissed bronze skin that held the faintest golden glimmer, his shining eyes of acidic green glinted with pride and frustration. Even with his rich dark mahogany colored hair, he gave off a beautiful shine that made him look like he was sculpted out of pure gold.
"And you think you're the best choice for a Human? Human's need light, food, and water, not to be locked up in a creepy ass dungeon that doubles as a nest for an overgrown lizard. That Human is better off in Savanaclaw, not Diasomnia."
Before Malleus could respond to the clear taunt from Leona, another voice with a haughty tone cut in.
"Not even if the Seven proclaimed it, would I believe you can be gentle or safe with a Human, Leona. Nemean Lions were the last holdout group that insisted on eating Humans before they were officially declared extinct."
Approaching with far more grace than he should have was the Housewarden of Pomefiore, the Peacock Harpy Vil. He was clearly posturing as his seven head feathers sat straight up in a clear showing of his crest. Even his tail feathers were slightly fanned out as they caught the light and gave an iridescent display of colors.
"Oh? And what the Hell would you do to protect them, Vil? Doll the Human up in fancy ass clothes and make them preen like a prissy little Harpy?"
"Do speak up, Leona. I could barely hear you over your prideful bitching. Or do you want another scar to even out that scowling expression of yours? Maybe I'll take your eye this time."
This made a snarl escape the golden Lion, his tail lashing violently back and forth in response to the clear threat from the Harpy. Luckily the Headmage had called the other Housewardens to return as well as requesting the teachers to assist in the unusual situation. All he had to do was step between the Lion and Harpy in an effort to keep them from attacking one another until the others showed up.
"I will decide where the Human shall stay and who is safe enough to leave around the Human. They are an extremely rare creature and cannot be treated so callously. You both are Housewardens, please act with the proper decorum."
It was then the clear clopping of hooves on the marble floor could be heard, the others quickly returning to the Hall of Mirrors thanks to Crowley's summons.
"I demand to know the location of the Human! The Queen's rules insist that humans must be protected and cared for properly, and I refuse to allow the mistreatment of one of the Queen's most protected species!"
Each syllable was accompanied by the distinct click of his golden hooves against the stone floors as Riddle came to a slow halt in front of the Headmage. Naturally, the Unicorn Centaur was the first to know any obscure information due to his inherent hunger for knowledge and desire to follow rules. If anyone knew of rules regarding Humans, especially any rules made in by the Queen of Hearts, Riddle would be the one to know them all.
"Riddle, I assure you that the human will be properly cared for-"
"Have you already provided them with adequate snacks that don't have pig-fat in them? The Queen's rule 898 states that all humans must be denied pig heavy meals as they are genetically close enough to pigs that it can cause stomach troubles but must be able to access food consistently due to their digestion processes. Queen's rule 899 states that Humans need to be kept in optimal temperatures that should not exceed the boiling point of water and should not be less than the freezing point of water. Not to mention rule 900 that talks about the proper protocol for finding mates for a human and their regional specific breeding patterns-"
The others couldn't help but stare at the Unicorn Housewarden who continued to prattle off the various rules regarding the treatment of Humans. He was far more sensitive to the wellbeing of the Human as Unicorns were historically rather fond of Humans- female maidens especially- and were the first to oppose the idea of Humans being cattle for other species. As a Unicorn Centaur, Riddle was far more attuned to emotions and natural law than a Harpy would be and far more aware of the fragility of mortality than a Dragon would be.
"The Human will be treated properly with adherence to the rules, Riddle. We should try and trust the Headmage to do that much."
The taller and more intimidating Centaur next to Riddle now spoke, resting a hand atop the shoulder of the temperamental Unicorn. Though he shared similar coloring on his equine half to Riddle, the second Centaur was clearly of a different breed as he was larger and more stocky than the Unicorn. His green hair was ruffled and he had clearly been out searching for the Human with Riddle before they were called back to the Headmage.
"No, Trey, he won't even follow the rules of an unbirthday party! How can I trust that he will do what is required to keep this Human safe and cared for? That virgin human must be protected at all costs!"
"How are you so sure they are a virgin?"
"I can sense their purity!"
Trey continued to try and talk down the upset Unicorn, trying to be a voice of calm and reason to his hot-headed equine companion. This left room for an interjection from yet another Housewarden returning from their search for the elusive Human of Night Raven College.
"Wow! You sure know a lot about Humans, Riddle! I wouldn't expect anything else from the Unicorn who is top in his classes!"
The newcomer's approach came with a golden light that shined from somewhere within his very being. His white hair was a stark contrast to his richly toned skin and crimson eyes, the ever present smile on his face just as dazzling as the gold and jewels that hung from his figure. To his side was his ever consistent Naga companion, the blacks and reds of his scales almost bleeding together in the golden light. The faint flick of golden scales caught in the light of the Genie added to the unusual mystique of the Sand Viper Naga that followed dutifully behind his Housewarden.
"You would know these things too if you payed any attention in class, Kalim!"
"Ouch, a bit harsh, Riddle? I can't help that Trein is so boring sometimes that I fall right asleep! If I knew we were getting a Human classmate, I would have paid more attention."
It was then the Naga spoke up, his voice smooth like honey and just as rich despite the gentle way he spoke. His dark hair was neatly pulled back in intricate braids that ended with a golden trinket and kept most of the dark locks from obstructing his gaze.
"Kalim, even if we didn't get a Human classmate, you should still pay attention in class."
"I guess you're right, Jamil. But still, isn't a human being here exciting?"
"Yes, well, it is certainly unusual..."
"I could keep them safe in my lamp and that way no one has to worry if they are in trouble or not because no one can enter my lamp without my permission anyway!"
"I don't think you could be trusted with a Human like that..."
"What was that?"
"Nothing. In any case, the Human's wellbeing should be top priority given how rare they are. Most Housewardens should be able to protect the Human as needed, but that isn't even mentioning the danger a Housewarden could represent to the Human."
As the conversation carried on and the other Housewardens and Vice-Housewardens returned from their search, the older crow Fae couldn't be more pleased. Taking on a Human would be quite a bit of work for anyone, but it seemed rather clear that the Housewardens were keen to do what was needed for the Human to stay. Not to mention the fact that the heir-apparent of Briar Valley- The Prince of Thorns, Malleus Draconia- had already claimed the Human as one of his protected treasures. There wasn't much protection better than that.
Still, perhaps it would be best to not leave a fragile Human in the nest of an overly protective Dragon.
~âąÂ§âą~
You woke slowly to the sounds of voices around you, feeling a soft surface beneath your head and a warm blanket wrapped around your figure. It certainly wasn't where you had fallen asleep- as you had been huddled beneath a hideous Gargoyle when sleep finally claimed you- but you weren't really complaining about the plush surface either. If anything, the voices around you that were clearly arguing were causing you more stress than the new location you found yourself in.
"The Child of Man is mine to protect! I will not allow any of you to take them from my nest."
"Malleus, please, we all know the human needs somewhere other than your nest to live. They need their own space and their own home to feel comfortable and not die from stress."
"They are protected here and have their own space here in Diasomnia."
"Malleus-"
Your increased movements made the arguing quiet down as you sat up, letting out a squeaking sound when you stretched. It was likely the ever present haze of sleep over your mind that kept you so calm despite the unfamiliar surroundings. That calm feeling didn't last long as you received a harsh reminder that you were the only human present. Standing in front of you was a fair-skinned man with dark black hair and monstrous features. His black wings folded slightly as he turned to look at you, bright green eyes examining you quickly for any sign of distress. Atop his head sat two twisting black horns that formed a kind of crown for the regal scaled man standing in front of you.
Past the intimidating man's shoulder you saw the familiar Crow-like man flanked on either side by equally monstrous appearing men.
One of the men had clear black and white hair that copied or complimented the black and white coat hanging from his shoulders. His steel gray eyes seeming so cold until they softened slightly, gazing at you the way one would gaze at a prized pet. This man seemed more human than any of the others you met prior, giving you a small bit of hope that you weren't alone in your plight. Still, there was the high chance that this man was some kind of monster too and just didn't look it at first glance like the others.
On the other side of the Crow stood a man that reminded you of a Bull with long horns that would have knocked into the head of the Crow-man if the Bull were any shorter. The man had deep brown hair and bright blue eyes, his muscular build clear even beneath the red sweat-suit he wore. Despite his Human-like face, he was obviously not human thanks to the clear horns and Bull tail waving lazily behind him.
It appeared- from first glance- that the reptilian man was guarding you from the others rather aggressively and was not keen to let you go with the Crow and his companions. Part of you was glad to feel such comfort, but you also had to wonder just what it was the reptilian man ultimately wanted from you. While you mused this, another voice from behind you startled you into almost jumping from the bed, looking back in surprise at the source of the voice.
You saw what looked like a young man with black and pink hair sitting on the bed near where you had been laying. He had apparent fangs that peaked past his upper lip and two leathery batwings that had clearly endured some damage throughout the years. This man had been present when you fell from the coffin not too long ago, so it confused you that he chose to speak to you now.
"It seems you're finally awake, little Human. Maybe you can help us with our current predicament? You are a rare species that has been believed to be extinct for more than a few centuries now. As one of the top Magic schools in all of Twisted Wonderland, it is the school's job to protect you and keep you safe from those who would wish to see humans extinct once more. Malleus here found you sleeping under the Gargoyles and has decided to claim you- for better or worse- as one of the creatures he needs to protect. That brings us here, to Malleus' nest. They," he gestured to the Crow and his companions, "believe you would be better off with one of the professors guarding and protecting you from the common rabble. Malleus," he gestured now to the reptile man, "is of the mind that you are most protected here in his nest."
You were surprised and confused by the Bat-man telling you all of this as the Crow had given you the impression that your opinion and wants did not matter in the situation you found yourself in. As far as you were aware, the Crow intended to keep you as a pet, but this Malleus person had the same idea and didn't want to share you with the Crow.
"... Why are you in his nest too?"
"Oh, becuase Malleus likes to protect those he cares about. He is a Dragon, after all, and those he cares about are counted among his horde. I have been his teacher for many centuries now, so naturally I am one of his hoard members. Only those who are part of his hoard or Malleus himself is allowed to enter his nest without being burned alive. That means you too now, congratulations."
You now glanced back at the reptilian man, seeing the way he stood with his back to you and wings spread in a shielding action. It made sense that this man was a Dragon given his features and attributes. Despite now knowing a Dragon was guarding you, you still had no idea why these people were so desperate to get their hands on you. Even if they were right and Humans were extinct, that didn't mean it made much sense to you for them to try and keep you as a pet like this.
"So, sweet little Human, what would you like?"
"I would like people to say my name and not call me Human."
"My apologies, it has been a hectic day thus far. What is your name?"
"It's (Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n)."
"(Y/n) (L/n)... The last Human in Twisted Wonderland."
#kiame-sama#yandere#x reader#yandere x reader#reader insert#tw yandere#yandere twst#yandere twisted wonderland#monster yandere#twst monster au#Humans are Extinct TWST AU
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Imagine...
Imagine you recently moved to the outskirts of a forest. The nature is beautiful and you do your part to keep it that way. You plant pollinator friendly flowers, rabbit friendly herbs, deer friendly bushes, you put out bird feeders, hummingbird feeders, squirrel feeders (though honestly, it's just extra bird feeders with less specific seeds since you noticed the birds didn't always eat the variety equally). Hell, you even changed out your lawn from traditional grass to clover and native wild flowers to use less water. You've been putting in a lot of effort to keep things nice for nature-- it's certainly been noticed, too.
In fact, you've no idea of the amount of eyes watching your beauty preserve nature's beauty- and to them you are nature's finest beauty. Looking at your plush body care for, tend to, and love the very things that feed their lives' essence; it's a sight that cannot be beat. At first, it was a competition amongst the forest. Who was yours? Who you belonged to? Now, now they understand that just like you work so hard to aid all of them, they can all share, love, tend to, and care for you, as well.
Imagine the first you meet, unbeknownst to you, is planned- it's all planned. You're sitting outside on a blanket, book in hand, just enjoying some rare free time when you hear a loud buzzing. It sounds as if a humming bird were flying right beside your ear. Yet, when you look up, it's certainly not that far from the truth despite not being completely correct in concept.
He's shorter than you, but not by much, barely hovering a foot off the ground. He hides half his body behind your oak tree- the one with all your feeders on it. He's got brilliant colors and jerks almost completely behind the tree when your eyes meet. (He's supposed to be speaking to you but when his eyes met your own shining gaze, he couldn't help but grow shy.) Your sweet, comforting scent has wafted in the air, stirred up in part by his own rapidly fluttering wings. He's buzzing with anxiety and adrenaline, the need to prove and show you his skills battling with his fear of your rejection. Now that he's gotten so close to those plump cheeks, he needs to kiss. Now that he's seen how soft and warm you are he needs to get closer; he needs to feel how soft and plush you are as he clings to your chubby form from his own anxiety.
Imagine you softly call out to him, voice sounding like both the sweetest lullaby to soothe his racing heart and mind and also just like home- like the sound he'd come come to with a nest full of little hatchlings and your warmth shared. It's that thought that spurs him into action, faster than you could reasonably expect. After all, the speed he can achieve gets to nearly the same as a traditional hummingbird.
He's higher in the air than you'd ever think he'd go, he shoots down, nearly towards you- no, definitely towards you, nearly at you the speed of which creates a loud chirp and you hear the sweet melody of whistles erupt from him as he's closer to you. As he hovers before you, dance still pumping adrenaline through him, he's more than proud of the awed expression you've been unable to shake. When you close your book and set it down to completely give him your full attention, he preens at your acceptance. You may not fully understand your own consent to his courtship, but the primal, feral instinct within him is more than satisfied with your open attraction and silent acceptance of him into your space- your life. He lingers by you for a moment and when he doesn't hide or fly away from you, it indicates he's comfortable enough with you. You smile and begin to speak.
Imagine you still keep your voice soft, welcoming for him. It's so, so sweet of you to care so much for him already- such a precious, soft, sweet mate you are already without hardly trying. You introduce yourself to him- you give him your name! As you do so, he flits around you with little twirls and swoops in his own excitement. Instinctually, you hold your hand out to shake. He grabs it instantaneously within his own soft, warm grasp. He holds your hand, enjoying how his hands are still just a smidge bigger than your own little, pudgy ones; even if it's barely noticeable to you, he can tell. You give the shared grasp a shake but he doesn't release you, instead he uses it to hover closer to you. (He's tempted to swoop into your outreached arm and cuddle into your side, he's strongly resisting that temptation. The mantra in his head is "not now, don't do it, not now...")
You smell like the flowers you plant, the earthiness of fresh watered soil, and there's a warmth beneath it all he can't place. It's enchanting, nearly hypnotizing. (Fuck, the other's are going to drool over your scent later when they get closer- maybe even over him if it's strong enough lingering on him after he meets you.) When he finally releases, he gives you his own name breathlessly with a giant blush upon his cheeks. His feathers puff up around him in his embarrassment before he dashes off towards the forest. As he does so, he pauses to look back at you every few yards. Instead of following you like he's silently urging and beckoning you to do, you smile, little puffy cheeks rounding adorably as you tell him "see you soon!" (fuck- his heart is going as fast as his wings and that cannot be healthy)
Imagine you start seeing Calypte more often. In fact, you start meeting him in your garden at least twice a week. After your first week, you begin to bring him fruit to eat, since you didn't quite think he drank from the hummingbird feeder like his look alike. The first time he ate the orange so ravenously for you that you never stopped. He knows that in nature, if he were true to his counterpart, he wouldn't be building the nest- you would. He knows in nature his counterparts instinct wouldn't be to linger after copulation, but he supposes that side of him is entirely the human part.
The need to preen and nest for you, the need to stay by your side, the need for you attention, for your care, for your love. That is surely, entirely his humanity. After all, hybrids are different from their animal inspiration. They're an interesting amalgamation of all the best parts of both. That's why they were created, why they were designed, right? Before the humanity and ethics caught up to it all, anyway. His parents acted very human after all, it just depended on genetics. However you.... you brought the humanity out of him. You bring the humanity out of him. It thrills him, makes him feel alive, and he can not get enough of it- of you.
#oc#Calypte (oc)#yandere forest harem (au)#Calypte the hummingbird hybrid#oc yandere#oc yandere hybrid#hybrid oc#monster oc#yandere monster oc#yandere hybrid#yandere monster#yandere#yandere oc#oc x reader#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#original character#monster x reader#hybrid x reader#yandere forest harem#hummingbird hybrid#bird hybrid#bird man#hummingbird man#monster oc x reader#hybrid oc x reader#soft yandere#yandere hybrid oc#yandere hybrid oc x reader#yandere hybrid x reader
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on the kingsroad.
cregan stark x reader
summary:Â you try not to let your feelings for lord stark show as you travel to king's landing together.
contains:Â forced proximity, fluff.
a/n:Â there was only one bed!!
word count: 1.2k
You struggled to keep your heavy eyes open as your mare clopped down the dirt road. You trotted alongside Cregan, whose gaze was now fixed on the inn that grew closer with each passing moment. âAlmost there, my Lady.â The young lord of Winterfell addressed you gently. He was as weary as you were, and longed just as much for the warmth of a bed. You tugged feebly on the fur lining your cloak as you neared the inn. It had been a few days on the Kingsroad in the company of Cregan Stark.Â
You both had business to attend to down in Kingâs Landing and the noble lord deemed it necessary that you be accompanied. Though you were merely a lady of his court, you had never been able to deny the part of you that longed for something more than polite manners from Cregan. The look in his icy blue eyes as he strode down the halls of Winterfell had put you in a trance more times than you cared to admit. Equally culpable for this were the stolen glances during feasts, the electricity you felt at his touch when he would help you out of a carriage. These small moments provided you with enough warmth to survive the longest of winters.Â
Soon enough, you were at the innâs doors. Cregan dismounted first before aiding you as you did the same, his strong, leather-covered hands holding your weight as your boots hit the snowy ground. You thanked him for the help as he led the way inside. The innkeeper marveled at the sight of him. Tall, wide, commanding; a young wolf.
âForgive me, Lord Stark.â the man stuttered. âBut there are simply not enough rooms left to accommodate both yourself and the young lady.â At this, Cregan looked over his shoulder to meet your gaze. Something in your expression must have given away that you didnât mind sharing chambers for the night, because he swiftly turned to the innkeeper and paid for the remaining room.
You tried to suppress the churning feeling in your stomach at the thought of such proximity to Cregan, thankful you could blame the pink hue of your cheeks on the biting northern cold. You followed Cregan up the stairs, the wooden boards creaking under his steps. The hallway was lit by torches, the warm light leading you to your chambers. âAfter you.â Cregan bowed his head ever so slightly as you stepped into the room, the stone and wooden walls encapsulating the heat from the fireplace.Â
âGods, how Iâve longed for the comfort of a bed.â you chuckled as you shrugged off your furs, leaving you in your gown. You felt Creganâs heavy gaze as you undid your simple braid and let your hair cascade down your shoulders. âYou must know your company has been a great comfort to me, Lord Stark.â you confessed, offering him a sheepish smile as your eyes met his. He too was in the process of removing his cloak, his thinner garments capturing your attention more than could be deemed fitting of a proper young lady.Â
âI am glad to hear it. I must admit that when I heard you would be traveling to the capital on your own, I couldnât help but worry for your safety. I shall stay close to you at Kingâs Landing as well. It is truly a viperâs nest, no place for an innocent lady.â
âMy Lord, you underestimate me.â you smirked as you stood up from your place by the crackling fire. âSurely the vicious men of Kingâs Landing cannot be much worse than the brutes back home.â
Cregan laughed at that, a good hearty laugh. âIs your opinion of Northmen truly so low?â
You felt heat begin to creep into your face once again. âI- I meant no offense, my Lord. The men I speak of are nothing like you.â You were too nervous to be sure, but you were quite certain it was a look of amusement now on Creganâs face.
âAre they not? I am a man of the North, born and raised. What could possibly save me from your damning opinion?â he teased, but you sensed he truly wished to hear the answer.
âWell,â you sighed as you fiddled with tendrils of your hair, âThey are not nearly as handsome, and not one of them has ever made me laugh the way your jests have. And they are unkind, inhumane. They regard me as no more than an object, something to be enjoyed as one enjoys a feast. But you-â you cut yourself off, looking up to meet Creganâs gaze. The look in his eyes was soft, hopeful even.Â
âBut I?â he insisted.
âBut you are kind. Not only to me, but to your people. You are a rare man of honor, true honor. A man I feel safe with.â you finally said. If Cregan was moved by your confession he tried his best not to show it, his gaze fixed on the ground as if lost in thought. You decided to make yourself busy with the fur covers on the bed. Cregan stood up to help.Â
âMy Lady, please have the bed.â he said, his voice scratchy from the cool winter air. âI will arrange my furs on the floor.â Your eyes widened at that, your hand reaching up to clutch your heart incredulously.
âNonsense, I cannot allow you to sleep on the floor when there is a perfectly fine bed large enough for the two of us!âÂ
Cregan made an effort to suppress his smile, but it was not enough. âAre you absolutely sure? I only wish for you to be comfortable.â he insisted.
âCertainly.â you assured him, allowing your hand to rest gently on his chest. You tried not to focus on the beat of his heart beneath your icy palm. He wasted no time in taking it in his own hands and bringing it to his lips, the gesture awakening butterflies in your stomach.Â
You gently stepped away to your side of the bed, slipping in and doing your best to stay on the edge of the bed. You felt the mattress dip where Cregan did the same on the other end. You ensured you were both back to back with room to spare between you. You tried to drown out the thoughts you were having about the Lord of Winterfell as you drifted off to sleep.
It wasnât until the first rays of dawn began to pour into the chambers that your eyes began to flutter. You were so accustomed to sleeping alone, you didnât know what to make of the presence you sensed so close to you. Only then did the memories of last night come back to you, and you looked down to your abdomen to find Cregan Starkâs large paw of a hand resting there. You glanced over your shoulder, feeling the warmth of his breath hit the back of your neck. He had pulled you flush against him in his sleep, and it seemed you had done little in protest. The butterflies in your stomach returned as you let your eyes close again and leaned into Lord Starkâs embrace, impatient to continue your journey on the Kingsroad.
tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @spxllcxstxr @lovemesomevesey @shemisseshome @themissgreen24-blog @siriusement @kindgomzeldaquest @gayfordabae @slayis4ever
#house of the dragon#hotd#cregan stark#cregan stark x reader#cregan stark x you#cregan stark x y/n#cregan stark oneshot
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omega yjh nesting. may this aid you on your journeys
#dokjoong#gah!!! dokjoong#today once again we can yearn for yjh being pampered and soft and cared for#orv#omniscient reader#omniscient readers viewpoint#omniscient reader fanart#orv fanart#kim dokja#kdj#yoo joonghyuk#yjh#crit's art: orv
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Delirium (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader)
Summary: Being partnered with Ghost was never easy. However, when you find him bleeding out on the kitchen floor and delirious from blood loss, you make a discovery. The L.T loves to talk.
Requested by Anon: #57 You're shaking.
A/N: Some Sunshine to feed you while I work on Anything III.
Category: Mutual Pining
Warnings: Description of injury || Graphic language
You weren't a medic by any means.Â
There was the combat first aid course that you were all forced to do during basic training, but that had been a century ago. You'd handled your own injuries when an enemy sniper would get a lucky shot. Again, there's not much to do there other than put some pressure on it.
Otherwise, you were fairly inexperienced when it came to handling injured team members. There were shortfalls to being a sniper, hand-to-hand combat wasn't as relevant and having to provide first aid was rare.Â
You call them shortfalls because now, in a situation where those skills are required, you're fucking struggling.Â
You'd opened the door to the safe house with a sigh, frowning when you couldn't see Ghost through the windows. You'd assumed he'd be waiting for you to arrive from your nest but clearly, he didn't give enough of a fuck to wait around.Â
You could have died en route and he'd be sleeping.Â
For some reason, the thought hurt.Â
You could think of a million things that he probably thought more important than you; staring at a wall being high on the list. What you hadnât expected, was to find him collapsed on the kitchen floor.
âGhost,â you rasped, choking on his name. His eyes flickered open at the sound of your voice, the relief palpable in his gaze. He groaned and let his head fall back against the wall with a strangled noise. You were frozen. Youâd never seen him injured and honestly, you thought that you never would.Â
Youâd even told Soap that Ghost was probably just a bootleg Robo-Cop beneath the mask. Â
But, the blood soaking through his uniform said otherwise.Â
âYou gonna give me hand or not?â His voice was low and rough. It had no edge, though. There was no bite behind his words like there usually was and it scared you. The man hated your guts and if he was too injured to convey that then he was definitely dying.Â
âOh God,â you breathed, leaning your rifle against the wall slowly. Your eyes never left his crumpled form and his eyes never left your face. âOh God.âÂ
You slid to your knees, rushing to his side with frantic curses. You couldnât see the extent of the wound from beneath his armour and he clearly didnât have enough strength to take it off himself.Â
âStab wound,â Ghost offered the cause of injury through gritted teeth. âGot me good.âÂ
âThis shit needs to come off,â you tugged at his armour, reaching for the quick-release cord. The man groaned but he didnât object. One hard tug of the plastic ligature had the vest falling apart at every seam, the line now loose in your hand.Â
âFuck,â the man gave a startled chuckle, taking a large breath with his chest free from pressure. âFeel better already.âÂ
You didnât reply, eyes narrowed on the wound beneath his ribs. You pulled up his shirt, tucking it beneath his arms as you scanned over the injury. It was clean cut, a clear entry wound that was steadily leaking a shit tonne of blood.Â
No sounds of air sucking in through the jagged flesh and you thanked whoever was listening that it wasnât a punctured lung. You didnât have any seals on you and you didnât want to slap him with some duct tape instead. Heâd never let you live that down.
âHowâs it lookinâ, Sunshine?â Ghost asked, breathing heavily.
âUnfortunately,â you began, pressing the cotton padding from your kit against the wound, âif you apply pressure, youâll live.âÂ
âUnfortunately?â He coughed, the sound strained and you could tell he immediately regretted the movement.Â
âVery fucking unfortunate,â you confirmed with faux seriousness.Â
You stuck a gauze pad to the wound once you had finished packing it, reaching into your med pouch for a bandage. Youâd wrap it around his midriff to keep pressure on the wound, you decided.Â
âA ray of Sunshine you are, as per fuckinâ usual.âÂ
You clenched your jaw, reminding yourself that he was injured and that you couldnât stick a finger knuckle-deep in his wound as retaliation. At the very least, he was back to hating you. Meant he wasnât dying any time soon.Â
You frowned at the bandage in your hands, desperately trying to remove the plastic wrapping. You couldnât think straight and your body felt jittery as the adrenline began to settle. You couldnât believe how vulnerable he was, unable to gather the strength to take off his own body armour.Â
You hated it.Â
Why the fuck couldnât you open this wrapping?Â
You pulled harder on the plastic, trying to bring your heart rate down. Why were you breathing so hard?Â
A gloved hand fell over your own.Â
Your frantic tugging came to an immediate halt and your eyes snapped up to meet his, startled. Ghost's gaze was half lidded but just as intense as always, grazing over your features. Heat flushed through your body at his drunken stare. You knew it was from the blood loss, you knew he could barely see straight, but that kind of look was reserved for someone he was sharing a bed with and you couldn't function at the sight of it.Â
For a moment he said nothing, blinking slowly- too slowly- as he took in a breath.Â
"Relax, kid," he murmured eventually. "I'm okay."
You swallowed hard.Â
His fingers were soft over your own, too weak to apply pressure but curled over your hand just the same.Â
"I am relaxed." You bit back at him, returning your gaze to the stupid fucking bandage beneath both of your hands. You didn't want him to see how much this affected you, you didn't want him to think you were a cowardly mess.Â
There was a soft huff as he patted your hand lightly. "You're shaking, Sunshine."
You sucked in a breath.
Your eyes flickered back to meet his, lips trembling at your exposure. He knew. The gentleness in his gaze was otherworldly, so foreign you wondered if it was even Simon Riley beneath the mask. Blood loss was clearly doing a number on him and he was doing a number on you.Â
âIâm a sniper, Sir.â You coughed, trying to tear yourself from the sudden intimacy of the situation. âI donât shake.â
Ghost tutted from beneath his mask.Â
âHavenât been with the right bloke, then.âÂ
Your jaw dropped.Â
Ghost blinked at you as though he couldnât believe what had come out of his mouth, either. Jesus fucking Christ. You suddenly realised why Soap had made fun of Ghost for never drinking when youâd all be at the pub. You remembered asking the Sarge why the masked enigma would always bail after an hour or two and his response was simple.Â
âThe L.T canât hold his tongue when heâs on the piss.âÂ
You thought that implied aggression.Â
Clearly not.
âThere is no right bloke,â you rasped, slowly pulling the bandage from beneath his hand. The loss of contact left you feeling empty but suddenly you could breathe a little easier.Â
Your fingers shook violently as you tried for the plastic wrapper again and your gaze flickered to Ghostâs face, praying he hadnât noticed. You should have known better.Â
His eyes were on your trembling digits, a soft exhale making itâs way to your ears.Â
âLooks like Iâve proved you wrong, Sunshine.âÂ
The words were low but there was no heat behind them. It didnât feel lustful, they were murmured like an afterthought, his mind elsewhere. You wondered where Simon Riley disappeared to in his head when he looked at you.Â
âYou crack a lot of jokes for someone whoâs a literal shish kebab,â you snapped, tearing at the plastic wrapping with your teeth. Finally, the bandage came loose.
âAnd you talk a lot of shit for someone who cares more than they let on.â The words were fired back, demanding your attention.Â
You stared at him for a long moment, resisting the urge to squirm beneath his dark gaze. Youâd never seen that expression on him before, as though he were daring you to disagree. As if he were waiting for you to say something.Â
âCanât care too much in this business, Sir.â You choked on the words, unravelling the bandage.
âI believed that once,â he tilted his head.Â
âAnd now?â You prodded, leaning over him to wrap the bandage around his midriff. You tried to ignore how close your face was to his, how your fingers trailed against the skin of his stomach. The Lieutenant shivered beneath your touch and you kept your gaze downcast.Â
Fingers gripped your chin softly and you gasped as he tilted your face upward.Â
You were half on top of him, nose to nose and his stuttered exhale brushed against your lips. Simonâs eyes were half lidded and this close you could see the blue of his eyes, a stormy ocean that swallowed you whole. You were caught in itâs rip tide, drowning in the reverence of his stare.Â
âNow,â he murmured, lazily examining our features. His eyes lingered on your parted lips, his thumb slowly swiping your bottom lip. âCould say Iâve had a change of heart.âÂ
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