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reshinless · 1 month ago

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the first time you let kinich take you out, you didn't expect him to do this—similarily seen in his birthday voiceline!

"are you really sure this is safe?! "you feel his gloved hands under your body as he picks you up into his arms—bridal style and everything. "I'm very sure, don't worry; my saurian is nice."

The eight-bit dragon merely grumbles under his pixelated breath as his huge, green hydra lets you both onto his back. "I don't kill humans that don't have the name 'kinich malipo', nor a saurian hunter." The statement sounds forced and almost sarcastic, but just enough for you to believe it.

kinich sat down, and let you take a seat right beside him—on his left specifically. the beast slowly spread its small, byte-like wings into the air, and leaped off.

the wind was fresh, blowing into your face, and through your hair. the saurian hunter only holding you close by your waist, a secure—firm grip, enough for you to relax, even for just a moment.

the view was worth millions of mora, you've never been able to see natlan this clearly. an enthralling, gorgeous, and unforeseen observation from the skies, maybe this ride wasn't as bad as you thought.

the night lightened the mood of the city, and the rest of natlan so beautifully. it almost brought you to tears, this is the same city you've been exploring this whole time, huh?

instinctively, you leaned in closer to the infamous raven head they call the saurian hunter 'malipo'. he couldn't help but set a speck of dust—a mere knit of red dance along his warm skin, specifically his face.

he lets out a bijou cough, clearing his throat of nervousness. as he softens his hold around your torso, letting you observe every little detail you may find while ajaw flies through the skies, giving you a show.

you shuddered—the temperature of the skies isn't what you expected. silently, almost expecting it, he swathed you in the simple fabrics of his jacket. the scent was such a familiar scent, that you couldn't help but melt into such clothing, only leaning your head further to your right.

ajaw suddenly leans too harshly onto the right, almost making kinich fall off—yet he seemed almost.. unfazed? "kin'!" your shout echoed through the skies, even stunning ajaw temporarily. a stoic, apathetic expression was on his face, kinich in this situation wasn't too amused, even letting out a scoff—growing a smirk on the very same expression. "seems like your trick backfired." "ohhhh- quit it, kiniiichh!!"

you let out a sigh of relief, "does he always do that? scared me half to death!" a concerned look tells him everything you felt when you saw him slip for a moment. "usually yeah, don't worry about it." you felt a similar smile bloom on your face, as ajaw slowly starts to descend, and kinich scooping you back into your arms.

he sets you down on the ground, near the house mualani lent you for the meantime of your travels in the renowned toyac springs. it was even prettier at night, you swear you could see the petals in the water light up under the moonlight!

"you feel nauseous, or sick? anything of the sort?" he checks your face, and any other spots where your skin can be seen, looking for any signs of injuries. "if so, I can punish ajaw for doing such." "hey that isn't what we agreed on!—" a rock is thrown at the large dragon, a growl as it keeps quiet. a gaze full of anger set out on kinich as you let out a chuckle.

"i'm fine, no worries. here, your jacket." you reach to hand his jacket back, you felt almost fighting against giving it back, it was warm, and it felt like a piece of him would always be with you. "—keep it. you'll need it for the rest of the night if you continue to hang outside. which I know you probably will, mualani is active at night, especially when cooking."

"so... i'll see you tomorrow?" your eyes looked into his for a moment, tilting your head even. "a- ahem... yes, I'll be here tomorrow. chief asked for your help anyway, so."

"bye then." you send a small wave to him.

"mmh.. yeah bye." he nodded, turning around to hide the redness that bloomed on his cheeks as to how flowers would in spring. gosh it was still fall!

"and goodbye to you too, ajaw." you waved the eight-bit dragon off as he huffed in pride. "farewell to you too, human."

you swear you could hear him and ajaw bickering about how you greeted them both a good night as they flew off once more, back to the canopy.

maybe you should go out more, specifically with kinich.

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steddieas-shegoes · 10 months ago

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Just started thinking about labor and delivery nurse Steve Harrington having to fill in for his best friend Robin in the ER at the last minute on his off week

And who stumbles in (comes in on a stretcher) but rock star Eddie Munson who fell off the stage at his show just because he’s incredibly clumsy (this isn’t even the first time it’s happened). His leg is very obviously broken at the knee because he broke his fall with it and he’s struggling to focus on questions because of the pain.

One of his bandmates came with him, Jeff, who Eddie keeps referring to as his mom on the road. Jeff calls Eddie’s next of kin so they can focus on giving him a scan, pain meds, and setting his leg as soon as possible.

The pain meds kick in fast and he’s flirting with Steve nonstop.

And he’s good.

He hits all of Steve’s buttons: the obnoxious pet names that should be annoying but aren’t, the casual touches to his hands and arms as he gets him comfortable, the lines he’s using that are stupid but adorable.

He has no reason to stay after they take care of his major injury and the one spot on his arm that needed stitches. He didn’t hit his head and passes all the concussion protocol tests, his stats are normal, his pain is being managed with a prescription of Tylenol with codeine. He can go home.

But Eddie insists he should have Steve’s number in case he gets worse (he won’t) or has questions (google is available). Steve gives him his number.

He texts him almost immediately.

And keeps texting him for days.

Weeks.

Calls him every morning before Steve’s shifts. Every time his post-show adrenaline matches up with Steve’s lunch breaks. Every time their schedules sync up.

And then he shows up randomly to get his cast removed.

Steve reminds him he could’ve gone anywhere, especially because he was working his usual floor.

Eddie reminds him that he wanted an excuse to see him.

Steve manages to grab a 30 minute lunch break when all his fellow nurses and doctors find out his Eddie is visiting.

When Eddie leaves, it’s with a promise to be back when tour ends in less than a month, a promise to take Steve on a real date, and a promise to be the best damn boyfriend Steve’s ever had.

#idk how things work in hospitals #and I’m not gonna research it for a shitpost #so if a medical professional sees this and it’s obviously wrong no it’s not #I’m but a marketing manager #I do not know the way #I’m just here for a good time #and maybe a wrong time factually #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #headcanon

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huicitawrites · 4 months ago

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Omen of the Cursed

Yandere! Ryomen Sukuna x Fem! Reader

TW: depictions of abuse, gore, mentions of suicide (non-descriptive), yandere

THE KING OF CURSES sits casually at the edge of the village well, biding his time. Two muscular arms support his weight on the cobblestone, while another relaxes on his knee, and his fourth is busy—clutching a decapitated head in his clawed hand.

Crimson stains adorn the tips of his fingers, and his feet are smeared with blood. Puddles gather in abundance throughout the village, and the earthy streets are littered with bodies and dismembered remains.

He has killed every single one of them.

He enjoyed it.

He relished in their screams and their agony: men, women, children, the elderly. They all sounded the same in the end, squealing and wailing like lowly pigs sent to slaughter.

At first, the village men tried to fight back, but once he claimed his first victim—his Dismantle technique turning a man into a mangled heap of flesh—they began to shriek and run. When they realized there was no escape, they started to beg.

Some cried for their children; others, for their lovers or themselves. It was amusing to observe how far they would go for survival. They offered everything they had: the village's meager gold, their wheat, their rice, their sheep. When they sensed his dissatisfaction, they turned on one another, offering up their wives, their children, their kin—one even stabbed his own brother and threw the corpse at his feet, declaring a desperate loyalty.

Yet, the King of Curses had come to finish what was started, he took their lives one by one, laughing maniacally in ecstasy and joy.

And so, he sits amidst his carnage—waiting.

The best was yet to come.

He tosses the head in his hand, its expression of horror still etched on the pale face as it rolls across the ground, leaving a trail of blood. He shakes his hand to rid himself of the crimson droplets before resting his four-eyed face atop it. His glaring eyes fixate on the village entrance, marked by a large, old Torii gate.

He recalls the day you abandoned him.

He remembers it all too well.

Ryomen Sukuna was born a cursed, unwanted little wretch.

Everyone believed it and treated him as such: the adults and elders in the village, who instilled their beliefs in their children. Even his own father abandoned him as a mere babe, leaving the village under the moon of Sukuna's birth. His mother, on the other hand, took her own life shortly after he learned to walk.

The villagers whispered rumors of a sibling he had devoured while still in his mother's womb.

Everyone despised him, and so young Sukuna began to despise them too—except for one.

You.

You probably knew of Sukuna as ‘an ill omen’ and ‘a cursed child forsaken by the very gods,’ but what surprised him was your disregard for the villagers' cruel words.

(He remembers the first day you met.)

“Hey,” your soft voice called to him in the village woods. He wore dirty, ragged clothes that contrasted with your colorful kimono. “Do you want to play with me?”

“Go away,” he spat, leaning back against the trunk of a tree, pretending to ignore you.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a playful smirk. You crouched by the river, scavenging for the perfect pebble—a flat little rock. To your delight, you found a twin of it, and with both rocks in hand, you approached the bitter boy.

“Here, you have one,” you tossed him a pebble. “I’ll show you.” Your squeaky voice was impossible to ignore, drawing his gaze as you meticulously adjusted your stance. He recognized the blue fire coating the rock in your hand. His eyes widened, and a single thought sprang to mind.

‘Is this girl cursed like me?’

You threw the pebble expertly, and it bounced across the water’s surface three times.

“Did you see that?! Say it was cool, right?! Your turn now; it’ll be fun!” You jumped excitedly, pointing at the lake with a wide, joyous smile.

Sukuna snapped out of his thoughts and concealed his amazement. He didn’t want to admit it then, but it was a very cool shot. With a blank stare, he picked up the pebble at his feet and mirrored your stance. He held it between the tips of his fingers, took a deep breath, and unleashed his own blue fire. The pebble soared from his hand, bouncing farther and more times than yours.

You sparkled with wonder. “Say, can you teach me that? You can see it too, the blue fire!” Your tiny hands clasped his for a jolly handshake.

He remembers the burning embarrassment on his face, nodding and stuttering when you said, “Say… Let’s be friends!”

Back then, you were children who became great friends. You were so different, yet inseparable. You were a pretty daughter: kind, gentle, obedient, playful, and pampered by strict but loving parents.

On the opposite end, he was the village’s outcast. Shooed away from stores, despised by everyone. Parents forbade their children from being near him, adults mistreated him without remorse, and even the village priests scorned him.

Yet you laughed at his antics instead of scorning him. You cheered him on and even sewed him clothes out of spare cloth. You helped him flee when villagers chased him with pitchforks and torches and snuck him food or tea.

Like a moth to a flame, he basked in your warm kindness. As you two grew, he coveted your friendship, wishing for eternity with you by his side.

But as your teenage years approached adulthood, things began to change. While Sukuna detached from the village and its obligations, you became bound by expectations. Your mother filled your days with lessons on housewife duties—sewing, cooking, and manners—while your father began seeking suitors.

You wanted none of it; your spirit longed to explore the world, but your heart was tethered to your family, making it difficult to ignore your parents' wishes.

In a moment of desperation, he proposed an idea, but you laughed incredulously.

“So you say we ‘run away,’” you cocked your head. “I can’t just leave my parents behind. What kind of daughter would I be after all they’ve given me?”

He wanted to protest, to argue that he could take care of you, but you added, “Besides, we need money. A marriage would solve their issues. Yet…”

“I could marry you,” he blurted out.

The words spilled from his lips impulsively, and though he masked his bitterness, a knot tightened in his throat when you laughed.

“My parents would never give their blessings, they’d disown me first.”

“I’m not that bad of a choice.”

“Sure, a boy who steals and has no care or responsibilities makes a decent candidate,” you quipped.

He knew you meant no harm and understood the frustration behind your words. But he stood up and left, even as you apologized. You were speaking the truth. He was still an unworthy boy—weak, poor, a disgrace.

He couldn’t intervene as you left the village.

Three days before your departure, a foreign man appeared. Older, yet toned, with a staff in hand, he seemed a wandering monk- he later realized the old monk was a pesky sorcerer. He should have killed him back then.

The sorcerer interrupted one of your encounters, pointing his staff at you. His eyes sparkled with glee before darkening in disgust as they fell upon him.

Surely, he saw the monster would become - no, the one he was. The hate, the fury, the greed brewing in his dark heart.

The monk spoke with you, offering escape if you became his apprentice. Under the guise of holy work and financial compensation, your parents agreed to send you away.

“I’m leaving, then,” you stuttered, eyes cast down. You couldn't meet his dark crimson gaze, knowing the look of betrayal hiding beneath your stoic facade.

“I will come back to visit; I promise, Ryo,” you said, the pet name spilling from your lips with sweetness, but he huffed in response.

“I will be here waiting, [Y/n].”

Ryomen Sukuna left the same night you departed. He had nothing left in the village and without your presence, he could tolerate the shithole no more.

Two and a half decades passed.

He left as a cursed boy and returned as the feared King of Curses—Ryomen Sukuna.

As he stared at the Torii gate, his foot bounced impatiently, fingers tapping against the cobblestone edge.

Soon, a figure emerged in the distance—a traveler on a mule, donning a kasa. For a moment, he mistook you for the damned sorcerer monk, but he felt your familiar cursed energy. It seems you grew stronger through the years as well.

A wicked grin spread across his face, revealing sharp teeth and fangs. His four bloodshot eyes widened and pupils dilated in anticipation.

Finally, you crossed the gate.

“Welcome back,” the King of Curses greeted. “Do you like my welcome gift?” He gestured to the bodies and blood scattered throughout the devastated village.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you pulled back your kasa, revealing a solemn expression on a beautiful face. To Sukuna’s surprise, your eyes held no disgust, fear, or even anger, only a pitiful gaze that irritated him.

“Did you enjoy it?” you asked, ignoring his question. He huffed, wondering if you were attempting to seek a glimpse of that playful childhood friend.

The King of Curses laughed at your question, finding it absurd given the answer was obvious. “I found it most delightful,” he cooed.

Slowly, he detached himself from the well and stood before you. Even a few meters away, you could see the transformation he had undergone. He had become a beast—two extra eyes and arms, a mouth in his abdomen, a colossal build, and black curse markings embroidering his skin.

“It’s true then,” you sighed. “You’ve become the King of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna.”

“Tis how I’m called now.” It struck him as strange to hear his full name from you. “I must say it has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“How many have you killed by now?”

“I’ve lost count, darling.” Your frown deepened, and Sukuna’s smile widened. He noted how tightly you clutched the reins and how your body tensed. “My father and mo—”

“I’ve killed them both,” he cut you off, grinning wickedly. “Their deaths were slow and painful.”

“Ah…”

Now it gets exciting, he mused, watching as fury consumed your expression. This was the response he craved—a little punishment for abandoning him, if you will.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you struggled to hold back sobs.

“I have come to slay you, curse,” you spat, mixing pity with spite. You clutched the cloak around you, prying it off to reveal white and red Miko clothing. You held a shakujō, likely a cursed tool.

This was not the first time someone had come to exact vengeance upon him, and it wouldn’t be the last.

However, it would be the last time you left him.

The King of Curses made the first move, closing the distance between you in the blink of an eye. He lunged forward, delivering a devastating blow.

You leapt from your mule, who perished instantly. Your body shivered from his overwhelming strength.

Sukuna continued his relentless assault. Blow after blow, all you could do was dodge—there was no time to parry or block.

In a fleeting moment of opportunity, as you rolled away and encountered his exposed back, you swung your staff, chanting, “Cleanse.”

A blinding explosion of cursed energy erupted against him, bright light streaming from the metal adornments of your staff.

For a moment, you thought you had succeeded—what a fool you were.

He was the King of Curses, after all; he was no longer ‘Ryo.’

Sukuna remained unfazed, standing with his back turned to you. Before you could gauge the danger, one of his lower arms seized your staff, crushing it into splinters. He turned, crimson irises meeting yours.

“Was that all, [Y/n]?”

He reveled in your shock, and before you could distance yourself, he conjured his own spell. “Cleave!”

Hundreds of cuts ripped through your skin, blood gushing from every wound. You choked and coughed, your body crashing to the ground in a futile struggle for breath.

“Does it hurt?” he taunted, voice dripping with venom. Lifting his chin, he added, “This is but a taste of how I felt back then when you turned your back on me, spurning me like everyone else.”

He loomed over you, body casting a shadow. The wicked grin evaporated from his face, voice turning serious. “I find the fear in your eyes delicious. It’s a satisfying punishment for what you did to me.”

Crouching down, he drew forth a hand ignited with cursed energy. Not the familiar blue you knew, but a clear white. You had never witnessed such a technique, your weary mind too occupied to marvel.

Sukuna hovered his hand over your wounds, and in a short time, you found yourself healed, yet the damage had already been done—the fighting, the murder of people.

The King of Curses encircled you with his four arms, lifting you as a husband would lift his wife. Despite the tenderness once present in the boy you knew, you turned your head to avoid his gaze.

He scowled at your rejection; your silent tears pierced his resolve more than any weapon. One hand cupped your cheek, forcing your gaze back to his monstrous face.

"Spurn me no more, I will not let you, not again", he warned, his fingers digging into your skin.

“You’ve become a monster—what their words condemned.”

“I’ve become a king.”

“-of curses.” You cut him off.

His many eyes narrowed, “So what? Human or curse, it matters not in the face of strength,” he said nonchalantly against your melancholy. “All that matters is that I am strong now and that we are reunited. Even if you spurn me, I will make you love me again.”

He sighed, his voice as soft as a whisper.

“The boy you knew may be gone, but you will learn to love the man he has become,” Sukuna assured, his four eyes gazing back at you with an affection that twisted your gut, making your heart race in fear. He began moving toward the Torii gate, carrying you as if you were caged in his embrace.

He inhaled your sweet scent— it reminded him of the home he never had, the one he desires to build with you by his side.

“Finally,” he lowered his face to yours, “we are together again.”

His lips tasted of iron and yours tasted divine.

#yandere #yandere writing #yandere blog #yandere sukuna x reader #yandere sukuna #yandere fanfiction #self insert #female reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #yandere jjk x reader #yandere jjk #jjk x reader

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zoppa682 · 24 days ago

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For any nonhumans struggling with species dysphoria, I want to help you all as much as I can. I've been experiencing it all week. It can be quite exhausting and put you in a lot of distress, in my case. X(

Here are some tips I'd recommend to help:

1. Mimic the diet of your kintype/theriotype. You are a shark? Eat seafood. A dragon? Maybe try to burn some food a little (or turn it black like my own preference if you want). You kin a character from [Insert source]? Try recreating foods/dishes from their world or dimension.

2. Listen to relatable music. I'd recommend making a playlist of any songs that feel species affirming/euphoric, or even echo that dysphoria further, therefore turning it relatable. (Few of my favorites are Bones by Imagine Dragons, Control by Halsey, Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land by MARINA, Momento Mori by Fish in a Birdcage, among other songs that feel therian coded to me).

3. Do vocals. Howling, barking, screeching, or roaring are very relieving if you are in the correct space to do them! If you are in a quite space or do not want to out yourself to anyone, try purring, growling, hissing, or other unnoticeable sounds. You have an object kintype? Mimic the sounds of the object, like beeping, clicking, etc. (I personally make microwave sounds just because it is fun). Recite voice lines of your kintype from the source they are in. Mimic their voice and volume to match.

4. Move and physically act like your kintype/theriotype. Quadrobics, mimic the flapping of wings, walk bidepedally, whatever you do, turn your mannerisms and motion to reflect your kintype/theriotype.

5. Dress like your kintype/theriotype. Is your kintype a character? Cosplay them, or mimic their clothing style, clothing color, hairstyle, etc. If they have tattoos, scars, or patterns on their body, copy them on your physical form with paint or pens. (PLEASE USE NON TOXIC MATERIALS. STUFF SAFE FOR YOUR HUMAN SKIN.) Are you a species of animal(s)? Dress in your species' colors, or, once again, paint or color yourself like it/them. Are you perhaps any other form of creature or object? You can use the same tips as the others, and another idea that works for all is that you can buy costume pieces of your kintype/theriotype. Masks, headbands, just normal clothing in general, the options really are infinite.

6. Express your dysphoria through artwork. I love doing art when I am heavily species dysphoric. Drawing, crafting masks, origami, painting, collages, all are forms of art. If you are skilled in music, then you could even create some songs of your own!

7. Go out and explore nature. This one is mainly targeted towards therians, whose types are grounded on the life on earth rather than other dimensions or universes, but just like the other methods, it can be universally used by any types of nonhumans. Collecting things is my favorite way of exploring nature. Collect rocks, shells, sticks, leaves, bugs, plants, anything that makes you feel more comfortable in your own (unfortunate) physical body. Stay grounded in the world around you and you may find the dysphoria slips away. Hiking and going on short walks can also help, building a den, smelling the scents of the outdoors. All great ideas that I personally recommend.

8. Write about your feelings. Whether you are good at expressing yourself through poetry, you keep a diary/journal, or you can project onto OCs for new backstory lore like I do, writing can truly help with any dysphoria. Not only that, but it is sometimes refreshing to come back later and read about what you were feeling before. It can serve as a great reminder that you are a powerful being and you will always overcome the feelings if you try.

9. Research about your kintype/theriotype. It does not matter if you are an animal, concept, or object from earth, a being from fantasy, or a character from the greatest book or show, you learn something new every day. So why not learn about yourself? Read books or watch animal documentaries of your theriotype(s), same thing for you otherkins and your fantasy species. Fictionkins can look up facts about themself as a character, their book, show, game, etc.

10. Talk and interact with other alterhumans/nonhumans. Remember, we are a community, and while you are experiencing horrible episodes of species dysphoria, there are many other beings going through the exact same thing at the exact same time. So why not talk to them about it? Share your experiences, help eachother cope, you may even connect with more individuals that way, building more relationships with others and meeting new beings.

11. Past life meditation. If you are a nonhuman who has a past life/lives, you may find comfort in meditation, where you can truly tap into what you once were, and still are in this life as well. Look to the forgotten, and turn in to remembered. Open up your past and live over again.

12. Listen to sounds. Nature sounds, voices of other characters you know from your world, vocals or sound effects of your kintype. These are all good options to turn to if you want to feel at ease with yourself.

13. Let your emotions out. Sometimes this is all you really need to do when species dysphoria hits hard. Cry, bite things, claw at pillows, LET IT OUT. There is absolutely no problem in being yourself and expressing your heavy emotions in your own, unique, nonhuman way. You may find you feel much better after.

That's all I've got, but I hope whoever/whatever reads this far has an amazing day/night. You are an amazing being, thank you for embracing yourself and living authentically. <3

#therian #therian community #therianthropy #alterhumanity #alterhuman #alterhuman community #fictionkin #objectkin #conceptkin #nonhuman #species dysphoria #otherkin #otherkin community #otherkinity

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fallenneziah · 7 months ago

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An unexpected spark.

Tag: @heiress-prime

Summary: Your relationship with Optimus is... Complicated. Between the adjustment to life on a new planet and saving your asses from the Decepticons, there was only so much you could handle. And having Optimus' kin had not been on that list for either of you.

Cw: Pregnancy, minor injury, implied sexual encounters, Femme reader. Optimus doesn't have the software update for dadification. Italics for past conversation.

Your relationship with Optimus is... Complicated. Purely for the fact that being sparkmates with a Prime is exactly how you'd expect it to be.

Yes, Optimus had grown more intimate when you finally decided to stop dancing around each other's afts. Optimus was used to the way of the Prime, so it wasn't in his routine quite yet to acknowledge you romantically. Occasionally when you got some alone time he'd press his helm to yours and remind you how much he appreciated you for sticking by him.

Optimus cares about you, he does. He cares about you to the point that If you didn't contribute so much to the team and were few in numbers he may have yoinked you off the field for good.

He hates seeing you come back dinged up with scratches glaring in your paint. He hates that exhausted look and he wishes he could keep you safe.

You knew this, nudging him with your field and smiling softly at him from across the room, excited and lighting up like a puppy when his EM field would brush you back.

You'd sit and have your Energon in the morning together. In the past couple weeks Optimus had noticed the rate at which you had Energon had been increasing. You just found yourself thirsty a lot.

Optimus would tell you to go easy, you only had so much supply after all. It eased the aches you felt after spending the night curled up next to him.

Optimus left you satisfied. You knew it would be a difficult relationship, if not for his duties as Prime, but your survival.

And you were no stranger to a recon mission, driving down the open Nevada road and taking in the dirt and grime under your tires. Optimus had given you coordinates to an emerging supply with a light squeeze of your shoulder and a loving gaze only he could pull off.

It was nice to spend time away. At least you didn't have to drag one of the kids with you. The children were so interesting. At least, earth children were.

They were always full of energy, they always asked questions and wanted to be around and play with you. It made you chuckle a little.

Your drive down the road led you to a discarded backroad into the Nevada hills. You shifted your tire and diverted from the pavement off into the trees.

The constant ping from your interior leading the way.

You felt, in a sense, pent up. The way your back struts strained despite being tucked up into the carriage of your car. You could have chalked it up to your latest intimate night with Optimus.

Usually, you shake off the aches in a day or two. Optimus was the kind of 'bot who made up for his less-than-constant intimacy strings with an all-nighter that left you unable to move for the week following.

The weeks prior you had been more sensitive than usual, which Optimus had noticed. It left you both unable to find any time for intimacy because when you got to that point, you just couldn't handle it. But he was gentle.

"Easy, am I hurting you??"

Your servos gripped onto the plates of his forearm, your expression twisting slightly. "No... I just.." You paused briefly to see if relaxing would ease the unusual pain and sensitivity.

"I don't know..."

"Should I stop?"

"No, no you're fine... I'll be fine."

Optimus' face at the time didn't show he was too convinced. He'd rather be cautious than be sorry later...

"You're coming up on the signal, be careful when you enter." Ratchet's voice broke you from your thoughts, causing you to slow down.

"I'll be careful."

You transformed and shook your pedes along the loose rock of the road. You scanned the area briefly, then continued on foot through the trees. The Energon supply would be right below you soon enough.

You absentmindedly rubbed your abdominal plating to ease the tension in your struts and fuel lines. He must have messed you up good considering the noticeable dent. You'd had it there for a bit, but it was barely noticeable.

The constant beep of the counter led your way through broken foliage and trees barely taller than yourself.

"Coming up on it." You said into your comm. You kept yourself at a good pace as you made it through and found the crater.

Bingo.

"Get a move on!" A distant voice calls, causing you to duck behind a rock and bushes.

"Could you useless 'cons work any faster!?"

You shifted and looked through the foliage to see a plateau-heeled Decepticon screeching away.

"Just... Perfect."

You leaned back, "Decepticons got the jump." You whispered into your comm and waited for Ratchet to update.

"How many??"

"Their usual mining crew... I'd say 15- maybe 20?" Your servo pressed against your plating again, feeling the uneasy warmth fill your gut.

"I'll send Bumblebee and Bulkhead out to you, see if you can get a better idea of who we're up against." Ratchet again replied, giving you something to focus on while waiting for the scout.

You shifted against the rock and ducked back into the foliage. You tread up the small hill. Thankfully the only notable figure among them was Starscream. The rest looked like workers, they wouldn't pose a huge threat.

You kneeled, your hip plating grinding loudly, making you freeze. The combined sink of your plating and the sound made you cringe. "Fraggin' hell..."

You grimaced and continued to stay low and wait. It was all you could do.

You sat there watching them mine the precious Energon that should be for you and the team. That wouldnt be the case if they didn't hurry up and get Bumblebee out here.

Your plating ached. It ached in a way that made you think about Optimus. About his hands on your hips and his denta on your neck cables.

Your plating heated, and the thought of Optimus made your fuel pump thump in your chassis.

"Frag," You whispered.

Your fans kicked on, and your panels clicked.

"Ratchet I- I'm not feeling well..." You swallowed hard.

"Not well?? What are your readings showing?"

You checked your monitor, looking down at the diagnostics on your forearm. You were experiencing intense tightening just above your hip plating. And the rising temperature caused your fuel lines to tangle and a lightheaded feeling to sink in.

"My plating feels... Too tight."

"Is it painful?"

"Yeah."

"Can you make it back?"

"I.. Yeah.." You started to stand.

You paused, and your servo came to your stomach plating. Your Energon levels were down to 40% despite your rationing before you left.

"Bumblebee and Bulkhead are on their way to your coordinates."

Optimus was in the other room, concentrating on some old data pads he skimmed whenever he wasn't on missions.

He heard Ratchet in the other room but tuned him out. A tight warmth grew in his chest which caused him to adjust and shake his shoulders slightly. But as he read the feeling grew more prominent until he couldn't ignore it. His EM field pulsed, feeling that faint pulse of your spark alongside his. It felt uneven. The usual soft pump in rhythm that comforted the Matrix in his chest felt off.

Optimus pressed his servo to his chassis and tuned in to the feeling. Your spark throbbed against his rhythmically. The tight pulse and pull yearning for him, tugging the Matrix as if new life was growing the strength to stir from your chest.

It made him forget to breathe. He adjusted his optics again and pressed his chassis shut again, unaware it had come slightly ajar.

You leaned up against the rock, listening for anything around you with your servo still pressed against your abdomen. Footsteps softly came up behind you, a servo touching your shoulder. You jumped slightly and looked up to see Bumblebee. He whirred softly and pressed a digit to his helm as he moved toward the 'cons.

Bulkhead was close behind him. You sucked in the minor pain, took a deep breath and got on your feet again. You drew your arm cannon and followed the mechs out into the open.

"Hey, Screamer!" Bulkhead shouted and clanged his fists together.

Starscream saw the three of you and frowned deeply. "Autobots!" His wings fluttered in a panic. "Get them!" He ordered the 'cons. They abandoned their mining and ran at you three.

You shot at the first wave, taking them down before they could get too close. Bumblebee and Bulkhead worked together to get the bigger bots and leave the smaller ones for you.

As you went to take another shot the ache returned.

You winced, taking down the miner and looking around the area. Starscream was nowhere in sight.

You were about to comm Ratchet, but a sharp pain in your chassis forced you to hunch over and hold yourself.

The energy in your veins is pumps and pulses. Bulkhead noticed you and quickly rushed to your side, defending your flank while you recovered. You recovered and moved toward the Energon reserve. Bumblebee and Bulkhead held their position. You rushed to the middle of the pit, Starscream jumping down in front of you.

"Where are you going?" He grinned and aimed his arm at you, spindly digit threatening to pull the trigger.

"Starscream-" You held a hand up, the other resting against the pain in your plating.

"Oh, you're not getting any mercy today!" He lunged at you and shot a round into your shoulder. You tumbled to the ground, the pain seering your plating. "Frag-" You reached your knee up and kicked him off, deflecting his arm that swung at you, twisting and throwing him off of you. His nimble frame was back on his feet in seconds. Luckily so were you. You raised your fists, blocking his left hook, his sharp arm plating screeching against yours.

His leg swept under your ankle and threw you to the ground again. He stood over you and aimed his arm in your face. "I've been waiting for this... Megatron will praise me."

You panted and tilted your head back. "I wouldn't be too sure of that..."

A shadow fell over you both. Starscream's wings tucked in defeat as a fist violently shoved him out of the way and threw him against the wall. Starscream yelped, rock falling and landing in his lap.

Optimus stood over you, his servo reached for you and grabbed your arm to pull you up.

You winced and held yourself, feeling your struts and plates shift uncomfortably.

"Thank you."

He nodded firmly, activating his arm cannon and placing a protective arm on your shoulder. He moved you somewhere safer and rejoined the fight. You watched him go and smiled softly. Ratchet split from the group and came over to you. You slowly sat down and looked up at him as he worked. You took a deep breath and looked down. Your spark was warm, and your chest felt like it was going at a million beats per second.

Ratchet checked your diagnostics and nodded. "That was one of my fears... We need to get you out of here." You looked at him. How he looked at you made your spark flutter but for the wrong reasons. "Ratchet it's not..."

"It is. Optimus had a hunch."

You shuddered softly. Ratchet kept you sat down and watched over you protectively until the sound above the reserve grew quiet. Starscream squirmed out from his place and transformed, flying off.

"We'll get him next time." You said.

"I'd say so." Bulkhead approached.

You tried standing but were met with resistance.

"I can walk," you said stubbornly, moving your hips slightly. Ratchet gave you a firm look and kept you down. Optimus walked over, the other two moving away so he could come close to you.

"It's as you thought, Optimus," Ratchet said and got up. He motioned the others to follow him and they went to look over the Energon.

You looked up at Optimus softly and searched his optics to try and identify any anger in his face. Or, anything. Any emotion would be great right about now. "I... I don't know how I didn't notice sooner... When would we even-"

Optimus gently reached out and took your servo. You looked down and then back up. Optimus fully kneeled to your side, squeezing your servo. "I am not upset. I'm not... anything, right now."

You sighed softly. "I should have known... all the signs were there." You looked down, "I should have known."

Optimus' faceplates softened, "I'm glad you're alright." He let go of your servo and cupped your faceplate, tilting his head down. Your shoulders loosened a little. You reached up to cup his neck when his helm met yours. He welcomed your EM field into his, surrounding you with a mellow warmth that soothed your hydraulics.

You were a nervous wreck. He knew that.

You leaned forward and nuzzled into his neck cables.

"Optimus.."

"I need to get you and the team home." His voice rumbled low in his chassis, soothing you with something fierce. He slowly leaned back and helped you up. Your knees wobbled and crumbled underneath you. Optimus caught you effortlessly, a large hand spreading across your breastplates, helping you lean back up. "Easy.." He kept you close to his body, a comforting weight in your chest that reminded you you were safe.

"I've never had to carry someone so much before."

You smiled up at him. "I wouldn't mind if you did it more often."

He cracked a small smile at that. He effortlessly pulls you up off your pedes and against his warm chest. The others got the Energon they could, and Ratchet called Arce to open the bridge and bring you back to base. Optimus went first with you in his arms. He held you tightly and protectively as he made his way through the tunnel.

The team followed close behind, Arce shutting the bridge and coming to Ratchet's side.

"What happened out there?"

Ratchet looked up at Optimus, they shared a silent conversation for a moment before Ratchet turned back to his computer. "Mishap, come on, let's get the rest of this, yes?" The others nodded and followed Ratchet's instruction.

Optimus brings you back to your berthroom and slowly sets you down. Now that you were in private you could properly talk.

"I am not mad."

You looked up at him.

"I don't want you to think I am. We are in a dangerous war. I cannot blame you for this, nor am I mad at you for it. You couldn't have predicted this. I couldn't have either." He knew that wasn't entirely the case. You two were sexually reserved, sure. But you could have avoided this.

He gently reached out and touched the side of your helm. You leaned into it and reached up to touch his wrist.

"I am..." He paused. He didn't know what he was. How he felt, it was very mixed emotions. "I don't know what I feel."

You understood.

You leaned forward and nuzzled his wrist. You looked up at him with soft optics, "It doesn't change anything?"

To that, Optimus shook his helm. "No, not a chance." You looked down, and a smile formed across your derma. "If it means anything... I wouldn't do this with anyone else."

Optimus chuckled softly.

You sat up a bit straighter.

"I wouldn't feel privileged to raise a sparkling if it weren't with you." He said, his thumb tracing your jaw.

You leaned in and pressed your lips to his. He held you, his hand on your jaw slowly traveling to the back of your helm. His EM field pulsed around you, warming you as it wrapped around your body. He pulled back and pressed his helm to yours.

"I'm glad we're in this together." You whispered. Optimus was quiet in favor of kissing you again. One servo comes down to protectively rest against your abdominal plating.

If Primus brings him a child, then who is he to say no? It may not be the ideal condition, but he wouldn't want to raise a sparkling with someone else.

You gleamed up at him. He returned the soft smile, gently nudging your forehead. "You're going to be a sire," Your smile grew wider, the momentary fear and worry that troubled you replaced by the joyful realization of what was to come.

Optimus couldn't help thinking of the future, of Megatron, of others who would get to hurt you, who surely would try to lay a hand on his child. Megatron wouldn't go that far... Would he?

He didn't fragging care. Not right now. Right now he allowed himself to bring his walls down, to hold you and kiss you all over until you giggled.

"And you, my Cybertronian beauty, the carrier of our sparkling."

A higher honor than anything. And even if sometimes Optimus didn't have it all figured out, he knew that if there was any time to commit to being the best sparkmate he could, it was now. For you, and for your sparkling.

After all... It wouldn't be long. He could feel it in his spark.

#optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #optimus prime #transformers optimus #transformers x reader #transformers #transformers fic #transformers prime #tfp #tfp optimus prime #tfp optimus x reader #tfp optimus prime x reader

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writingsofwesteros · 5 months ago

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Hi there. I love your work. And wanted to ask if you could write a one shot about free use maid? Daemon loves to fucks her over one of the balconies in Red Keep. And perhaps Aegon stumbles upon them to join the show?

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

The soft, cold breeze moved through the open window as the cotton curtains were no match and allowed entry. “Hmm, anyone could see you, my little slut.” The rogue Prince purred in her ear as his maid’s mouth watering scent came over him. “I imagine nothing they have not seen before.” Daemon only continued to taunt her. A whine of his name easily fell from her lips followed by the mewls of pleasure he teased out of her. Her delicate hand reached behind her for those bright locks of his and pulled him close. It seemed her confidence had only grown with each thrust of his hips. Without pause, Daemon manoeuvred her legs to spread open causing her to lean on the balcony some more.

Those soft, ample breasts of hers pressed against the stone wall; the coldness had her pink nipples pebbling with ease. The Prince began to press soft, open mouthed kisses down her neck as a shiver ran down her spine. Even after all this time; she could not get used to the touches coming her way as the pleasure took hold of her once more. “Please – my Prince…” The words fumbled from her lips as she began to rock back against his fat cock. Daemon only taunted her and slowed his movements to a stop; his pretty maid would have to do all the work. And oh how she did so wonderfully. Her hands reached for the wall once more as the top half of her body was on show for anyone if they were to look up.

“That’s it..good girl.” Daemon whispered out his praises as his larger hands moved towards her hips, tightening his hold. The bruises that would appear in the morning would be a reminder for the both of them. The maid prettily bounced back and forth with practised ease; her sweet pants and moans echoed aloud. The Prince grunted in pleasure at the sight of the ring of cream around his thick length; her shaking body a sight to behold. “I am surprised you are not with child yet.” Daemon purred; his hand snaking around her stomach. “You are filled with cum from so many of my kin.” He taunted her some more as his slender fingers brushed over her sensitive clit.

His thumb began to circle her sweet spot and all the pretty maid could do was sob. Her legs shaking once more as his touch pushed her towards the climax. Daemon allowed his weight to fall on her as his thrusts finally resumed. His fingers played her pretty cunt and only seconds passed before she was squirting around his fat cock. Still, Daemon only fucked her harder; pushing deep as his free hand moved towards her sweet, bouncing breasts. A creaking noise held the rogue Prince’s attention as he subtly looked at the corner of his eye. Still, his movements continued as the maid collapsed onto the wall; allowing Daemon complete control of her.

The flash of shorter, white waves had a smirk tugging on his lips. “Aegon, have you come to learn?” Daemon hummed; amusement dripping in his tone. A soft gasp escaped her as she turned to stare at her side; all the while her body bounced back and forth. “Aegon…” A whisper of his name caused desire to flash in the young Prince’s eyes. Daemon’s hand came down on her arse; the slap echoing as she whined. Her hands tightening some more on the wall as Aegon only stared. “You always do look good on your knees,” Daemon commented before nodding towards the space near the coupling. All the while, the maid babbled nonsense as his fat, mushroom head bullied the sweet spongy spot inside her.

Aegon did as he was told; his submissive side easily taking control as he watched on. Slowly, the Prince moved to his knees whilst Daemon smirked down at him. “I have seen you with your brother and our little slut. You know what to do.” He purred and a shiver of delight ran down her spine as those memories flickered in her mind. Not so gently did Daemon push her back down; face against the marble as he quickened his thrusts. A grunt escaped him once more at the feel of Aegon’s tongue slowly moving up and down his length as he moved in and out of the precious maid of theirs. “No wonder Aemond enjoys your mouth so much.” The rogue Prince commented as Aegon lapped at her wetness flooding down.

Aegon only smirked up at his uncle as his tongue brushed over to her sweet clit as he began to suck with hunger. The young Prince moaned against his maid; the vibrations alone caused her to mewl out in pleasure as Daemon took his own release. Her legs began to shake some more as Aegon greedily lapped at her. Daemon’s stomach began to tighten as Aegon’s mouth soon returned to licking up his length. “Fuck, that’s it.” Aegon hummed; hiding his smirk as his hand reached for her sweet, ample breasts to tease some more. He could not wait for milk to be leaking from them; those thoughts alone had him moaning against Daemon’s cock.

The groans of pleasure echoed in the room as the rogue Prince came closer to his release. Aegon’s touches bring him closer. “Please–pl,ah..oh gods..” She cried out; weeping as her orgasm ripped through her once more. The clamping of her pretty pussy pushed Daemon over the edge as she began to milk him. Aegon groaned; hands palming at Daemon’s arse as his tongue began to lap at the cum dripping down his length. His continuous lapping had the rogue Prince shivering before he slowly removed himself from the pretty maid. Aegon wrapped his hot mouth around Daemon’s softening cock as the maid on shaking legs turned around. His fingers gripped Aegon’s hair tighter than needed as the maid slowly moved to his side; cuddling into him whilst her heart began to calm down. Daemon gently cupped her face as he leaned closer; their lips passionately meeting. The soft sucking Aegon made echoed as their tongues began to dance. “Good boy.” Daemon purred as he leaned away. Aegon only whined; those bright eyes of his looking up as Daemon’s hand stroked up and down the maid’s side. Goosebumps easily came up her soft skin as a sweet, pink blush came over her cheeks.

#daemon targaryen x reader #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #request #aegon targaryen x reader

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kincalling · 1 month ago

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hi there! i'm brad majors from rocky horror picture show! i'd love to talk to anybody from source, whoever's out there. i'm turning 18 in two months so 16+ interactions please! interact w/ this post and i'll reach out (im super slow with tumblr messaging so forgive me🙏) thanks so much! can't wait to meet you :)

⚡️

#brad majors kin #rock horror picture show kin #canon calls

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youlikefanficdontyousquidward · 2 months ago

Text

By moonlight

Adar x Fem!Elf!Reader

Part one, Part two- Oaths

Summery: Things are tense with the Uruks and especially their Lord father but you make a decision.

Shorter but more ADAR. There will be more parts as things heat up with our Lord

When you were taken to their Lord Farther, a part of you assumed he'd be...more orcish? Before your kneeling form was what at first glance someone you'd assume your kin. Pointed ears and a tall broad form. Long onyx hair slicked back with stray strands framing alabaster skin. That skin seemed to be the only thing that set him apart from any elven man. It was marred with scarred flesh from his cheeks up past his temple. In fact the same pits and valleys stretched down his neck and bellow midnight armor.

You met his eyes, pale green as new growth. The Uruk Lord kept your gaze, challenging your claim as he shifted closer to you. His body seemed to follow after his head, smooth and graceful but predatory. Then his eyes closed and he took a sharp intake of breath. You were certain then that you would die here in the mud. Your heart felt like it would burst from its cage but you wouldn't close your eyes. You'd face what was to come, shivering and fearful as you were.

Before he could speak or draw his blade you heard a clamor from further down the tunnel. Raised voices, clattering and then Thrak stumbled past the corner. He scrambled in his turn, fists in the muck to change his direction before he slamming against your side at speed. You gasped, just able to keep your balance, as his little arms encircled you, pulling you into a tight hug.

"Lord Father!" He cried, breathless from his flight. "Please if I could explain!"

More Uruk rounded after him, scowling at him before dropping their heads in reverence to their Lord.

"Sorry Lord Father, we'll take this one back with the other little 'uns." An Uruk spoke as he entered the space.

Thrak dug in tighter his hair tickling at your throat. You tried your best to return his embrace but with your hands still bound the best you managed was resting your chin on his head.

"No." Their Lord said, his voice far softer than before. He moved in close now, dropping to his knee to meet Thraks eyes. "I wish to hear what you have to say my child."

"It was man who attacked us, not her! She killed them, burnt the one who burnt us!" Thrak rambled on, jumping up from your side to imitate sword slashing. He continued his descriptions of your heroism till his Lord raised a hand. Still on his knee he moved his gaze to the Uruk captain, brow set low.

"One rescues our youngest, keeps them safe from harm and returns them to our hands... and they are brought to me in chains?" He rasped, his low tone taking a sharp edge. The Uruk behind you shift. You could hear them stammering for a response.

"Release her!" Their Lord snaps voice just barely raising from a whisper but it's effect is immediate. Thrak stands straight and the captain is at your wrists immediately. The manacles snap open and you feel their weight pulled away from you. The Uruk doesn't meet your eyes, grabbing the length of chain and hurrying away out of your line of sight.

You rubbed your wrist before a large pale hand reached to you. You paused a moment to consider the Uruk's Lord before placing your uninjured hand in his. He rose, letting you use his hand to pull yourself up gracefully with him. He withdrew quickly, passing to a group of large rocks he offered you a seat.

The other Uruk made their exit, tugging Thrak along. He made to protest but a glance from his Lord made him comply. You felt increasingly tense as the atmosphere of the room shifted. Without Thrak again a fear returned and tightened your throat.

If the Lord Father notice he made no show of it. Instead just running his gauntlet clad hand over a map on a small table. He picked up a roll of fabric, unwinding some. He hummed, a deep and throaty sound that reverberated through your skull.

"You truly have my thanks..." His deep voice scratched. "However I am regretful that your kindness won't be repaid."

"I did not do what I did for reward..." You began but stopped when you met his gaze again. There was solemn look across his features that set your hairs on end.

"Adar, that is my name. And I fear you do not catch my meaning. This..." He said with a wave to the walls. "Is a sanctuary for my Uruks. I will not have it known."

He turned back to you, the sudden movement causing you to jolt to your feet. The Uruk Captain still had your sword and Adar stood between you and the tunnels. Your eyes scanned but fell upon nothing that would aid you.

"Be at ease mellon." Adar spoke. You surmised the elvish was for your benefit. Despite his appearance it seemed an ill fit for his tongue.

"What will become of me, friend." You asked hoping the shake in your body didn't affect the clarity of your voice. Adar stepped back across the room to you. You stood taller, though you still had to lift your head to meet his gaze as he came in close.

"For now, you will stay here. I'm sure the little ones would appreciate your company again." He said. Adar's voice was so calm and sure, the gentle rasp soothing. His hands took your injured one, gently binding your wound. You felt in this moment you could trust his honesty.

...

The Elleth remained at the tents far behind the front of the tunnels. Adar was surprised she'd accepted her imprisonment so easily. He supposed she wasn't quiet a prisoner. Her body was free of chains and she hadn't even swore to him. She came and went from the children and through the tunnels. Though he'd instructed Glüg to shadow her. Still she never strayed beyond his eyesight, even when she'd go into the sunlight beyond his grasp.

She had some skill with herbs and had been diligently caring for the baby she'd taken in. Adar couldn't deny the sight of an Uruk baby in her arms stirred something old and forgotten in him. He wondered how it might feel to have her hands caress his own face but shook himself from such imaginings.

She seemed as happy here as she could be anywhere else. Though Adar did wonder why she was so content. He'd shared few words with her over the last month but even so she'd made no mention of her own. Nor had he spied any ill will on her part, tending to the children with the utmost care. He often found her with Glügs expecting mate and the other women. Normally with one or more still sat in her lap as she listened to them talk.

Adar left the tents, walking past his children with a nod. He had been called forward to the front of the dig. They'd hit the first of the villages some weeks back and now had many new hands to work. The most troublesome were elven guards. They're faces were a far cry from hers. Drawn into scowls and curling lips.

...

You followed after Adar. A part of you screamed at yourself, to let sleeping dogs lie. A curious voice was louder still, risking rocking the boat for an answer you weren't even sure you wanted.

Why the tunnel?

You'd spent so much time passing through that it was little surprise that the Uruks paid you no mind. You smiled and greeted as you normally did and received the grunts and nods as usual. Whilst you'd grown a nicer reputation amongst many, you understood their stoicism. It wasn't too long ago they'd have been at war with Elves. What was a thousand years when that much blood had been spilled.

You slowed your approach when you heard Adar's voice ahead. Every time it sent the same chills through you. After so many weeks you'd hoped you could keep focus around him but alas you slipped up. You weren't even sure what he'd noticed but you saw him glance to you.

You tore your eyes from him and finally noticed the scene ahead. An Uruk, the Captain, lay still on the ground. His blackened blood pooled against the dirt, his face serene as in sleep. Then to the left an Ellon, dark skinned, cropped hair, the fair face of his kin set in barely hidden rage.

You watched as the elven man was taken away, the chains that bound him taken. He left your sight into the daylight beyond the tents edge. There you spied more chain, leading to more who dug into the earth.

"Don't lurk Andúnë." Adar called, his back still to you.

You flushed at his little nickname despite its frequent use. A jest to your kind not being known to have come so far west. It meant sunset in the language of men. You fought past the feelings it stirred in you and stepped into the sun beams the broken tent let past.

"The chains?" You asked, your eloquent words dying on your tongue. You wanted to say more but you could see Adar understood. His slumped shoulders rolling back as he straightened out.

"A necessary precaution." Adar grunted. You kept your eyes on him, his profile lit by the golden light. "We lost more than just Magrot."

You followed his eyes to the captain again, letting them rest on him as you lost yourself in thoughts. War and death had been so far from your kin's land, further still in the depths of the caves.

"Why would they...?" You began but felt your throat close around the sounds. You didn't cry but you felt if you kept staring any longer you'd break your mask soon. You turned your face away and met Adar's. He'd stepped closer, within reach of you now. A part of you still feared what he might do and a tear broke free. It slid down your cheek as your heart beat faster and faster.

"Andúnë..." He all but whispered. "My children have long been foes to most. That is why we must make a home for ourselves."

"I was born in the deep forest, where your world was just a story." You said not moving as he took another step closer. You took your eyes from his, looking to your hand. The scar was new, still wine dark against the surrounding skin. You ran your thumb against it until your hand was taken.

You suppressed a gasp as Adar held your palm between his rough hand and gauntlet. His thumb brushed the mark with a reverence that had your heart jump to your throat. Your fear seemed to slip away all at once and your cheeks flushed.

"You are not bound to stay Andúnë." He rasped, pale green eyes rising to meet your own.

"I know." You answered, placing your other hand over his.

#adar x reader #adar fanfic #the rings of power imagine #my fics

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pocket-jack · 28 days ago

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Hey, guys! I decided to torture myself before sleep beacause... Why not? So, here's KidKiller's rough sheets with some headcanons I have for the guys (probably with a lot off mistakes cus my browser refuses to fix them for me)

Kid time, baby

I draw him differently now. I know his face looks more... diamond shaped in anime, but I can't get rid of his square coded energy, so... Heart-shaped it is!

When he recieved his eye scar he didn't lose the ability to see, but now it get's dry really fast and if he won't do something about it it'll gonna ache.

He had multiple piercings on his ear, but his powers just kept pulling them and one day almost ripped his ear of, so he (with a manly tears) decided to take them off.

I headcanon him wearing a corset, because he's a little chubby and he can't get rid of this extra fat (not with his appetites). Also everytime when he takes it off, not only he's forced to look at his hanging stomach, but he's also has to fight off Killer. Killer's only dream was for Kid to be well fed and happy.

Nor his, nor Killer's sexuality is defined by them, but actually based out of other's observations. Kid is pansexual because he's kinda gender blind. For him it's confusing that you're weak just because you have tits and extra hole between your legs. He's also demiromantic. Both of those preference he acquired during Kutsukku (where you couldn't trust anyone, even your lover. And where the gender norms were the least of your concerns)

He also have undiagnosed ADHD which mostly give him extra impulsivity and also now the metal can speak (thank ye, neurodivergency!). Sometimes it's stresses him the hell off, especially during Kutsukku. He could not sleep because of all of this buzzing he kept hearing from EVERYWHERE. Now he can control it, but sometimes it returnd and he has to suffer.

Metal also responds to his hidden emotions. It may float when he thinks, reflects or remembering something. It may rumble when he's angry, concerned, scared. Or it may form something if he's happy, in love or something like that.

He's hard rock kinda guy, we all know this, but I headcanon him as a music lover in general (so whatever makes his brain go bzzt, mostly rock). I find Thrown a couple of month ago and it's sounds like something Kid would like (probably even kin, esp Backfire). MSI is a basic thing for him to have (every punk need at least one song in their playlist). I guess not every person will understand it, but Пшлнхй is such a Kid coded song (Every Russian proverb, but one part is just sending you to fuck yourself is something that Kid would do irl. The chorus is just... mmm)

Killer, my beloved!!!!

I love headcanoning him as androgenous. He has a feminine features: oval shaped face, eyes with big eyelashes, even his lips is a little softer than the average male lips. That is the main reason why he hid his face, because everyone would bully him fot it when he was young. Killer was confused with a girl a lot during his time on Kutsukku.

During timeskip he strained a lot of muscles just to get stronger. He was neglecting himself most of the time, because he had a mission: to become stronger so he'll never fail to protect Kid ever again. They also been really distant during their training. Only when Killer hurted his arm they bounded again. Kid was surprisingly a good mentor for his healing. Probably because their trauma was almost the same

When he's wearing a mask he usually get's his hair out of the way so it wouldn't mess with his vision

Pre timeskip he wanted to work on his style, feeling obliged to do so, cus his crew was dressing up in colorful styles. He choose to fit into more West Bluish kinda style (cowboy boots and pants). But then anxiety hitted him and suddenly he felt too vissible and everyone was looking at him and... Let's just say it wasn't a pleasant expirience for him. He just wanted to show that he was a part of the crew too, but now he feels himself too overreacting and dramatic and stuff. It took a lot of time for everyone to convince him that it wasn't about the look, but more about the comfort. With their support Killer started wearing something he likes more, and it felt fantastic. He actually started to like himself in the mirror a bit more after timeskip and then Wano happened

Killer is asexual beacuse of the amount of trauma he suffered during his childhood. I hc him having a low libido too. He's still feels romantic attraction (only for Kid), and if he asks, Killer will have sex with him without hesitation. But it's only for Kid, OR for his sake

It is so logical for him to have OCD. Just him casualy living and then the dread that if he won't do something usefull his crew will see how fucking usless and worthless he actually is and live him behind the same his parents did just suddenly hits him. Oh hey! Anxiety! Abandonment issues! This man will explode, please, give him a hug.

It got worse after Wano. He's doing bad things with his face and no one knows. Even Kid. (I love making them suffer for the sake of Hurt\Comfort)

I am 100% sure Killer is a Queen guy. It just gives me Killer vibes... The same with Elton John. And also... To fit in his pre timeskip cowboy vibes into the oven,,, He's actually like country rock alongside with glam rock. Barns Courtney is his favorate

So... How do you like my silly little headcanons? Maybe I post something about Heat and Wire too. Welp, I'm fainting out of exaustion, bye!

#one piece #eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #kidkiller

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tropes-and-tales · 2 years ago

Text

A Hundred Nights More

Characters: Yautja/Predator x f!reader

CW: Yearning; talk of sexual relations but no graphic smut; 18+ to be safe.

Word Count: 3440

Other Pieces: This is a sequel to this.

It should be strange, leaving Earth with the Yautja. You go willingly this time, no baffling falling through the sky after being kidnapped as prey.

The entire time you pack a few bags, your brain keeps asking, this should be strange, right? Isn’t this strange? Why doesn’t it feel strange?

You pack your bags to leave your planet with an alien species. An alien species, it should be noted, that routinely hunts your species. That routinely kidnaps your kind to hunt. That had kidnapped you, in fact.

It should be strange, but you don’t hesitate to leave. And why not? Didn’t you feel more alive in those few months with the Yautja then you had in your entire life previously? And didn’t your stomach flutter and twist to see him again, to see him step into the ring of your firelight and hold his hand out to you?

It should be strange, but when you step onto his ship, it feels like coming home.

*****

Be’kan is no Youngling, yet this decision to take you a second time…it’s rash. Not well thought out. For a Hunter who spends painstaking amounts of time in planning, this is something else entirely.

Though he doesn’t take you this time. This time you come willingly.

You follow him willingly, and you reach an unspoken understanding of what you are to each other: he feeds you, keeps you warm and safe. You tell your stories. Together, the two of you travel to where he Hunts, alone or with his kin.

For a long while, it’s enough.

*****

There’s misunderstandings. There’s bound to be. You’re different species entirely.

So much of your life now is like your life on the game preserve planet. He goes hunting; you stay at camp or in his ship and content yourself with tidying up, exploring the vicinity nearby. You dust off those rusty Girl Scout skills: you get good at building fire from nothing but a pile of sticks and a piece of flint-like rock. You get good at banking coals, at cooking the raw, bleeding meat he brings back to camp.

He seems to prefer his meat raw or nearly raw. He clicks, huffs in an exasperated way when you sear the meat…but he eats it and seems no worse for wear for it.

Sometimes others join him. They are the same ones from the game preserve, and Be’kan explains that they all share a sire, a great Hunter who sired many generations of great Hunters.

The others regard you as a curiosity. You feel their eyes on you as you move around the camp. You hear their barks and chitterings, their strange way of laughing, and you guess they are talking about you. Joking about you.

Maybe planning your death. Though not a worthy prey, your polished skull might serve as a placeholder in their collection until they hunt something better.

One of them, a younger one, touches you one night. He reaches out one of his massive paws and yanks on the end of your hair. It doesn’t hurt much, and you don’t think he meant it to hurt. He cocks his head at you as he rubs the strand of hair between a thumb and finger. He’s studying you.

It lasts all of a second before there’s a streak out of the corner of your eye, then the younger Yautja is on his back in the dirt—Be’kan on top of him, snarling in his face, a blade pressed to his younger brother’s throat.

You don’t understand what he’s snarling, but you can guess: hands off of her.

It shouldn’t affect you, but it does. No man on Earth ever had such a protective moment for you, and you can’t ignore the low ache of need as you curl up near him that night—close, but not touching.

-----

Which is why you are confused: Be’kan almost never touches you.

You can count on one hand the times he has: on the game preserve planet, when he reset your broken ankle. On his ship when he was taking you home, when he took your hand in his and showed you his trophy room. On Earth, when he reached out and touched your lips, like he was testing the softness of your mouth.

So three times, then.

When he returned for you, he called you his mate, but you wonder if that word has a different meaning in his world. After the incident with his brother, you wonder too if touch is something forbidden in his world, or if there’s some cultural component you hadn’t considered. You know so little about him.

You try to touch him. You test it. One evening, when you hand him his portion of food, you brush your fingers against his wrist.

He reacts by jerking away from you, like you’ve burned him. He drops his food in the dirt and lets out a bark of surprise.

Maybe he was just surprised.

Another time, when you are both lying down by the fire, preparing to sleep. You use the excuse of the climate—this planet is far cooler than others you typically visit. You wait until a long moment passes, until the fire dies off…and then you wriggle over closer to him. Little by little until your shoulder is pressed against his.

He sits up, bolts into a sitting position the moment you touch him.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “I…was cold.”

He doesn’t reply, but he pulls your fur closer to the fire, rearranges you and tucks it around you. Banks the coals so they put out even heat.

Then, you swear he sighs. He lies down a distance from you, and he sighs again.

-----

Two separate tests, two conclusive answers.

You apologize to him the next morning. As he polishes his wicked blades, you stand nearby and apologize. You try to explain, in the plainest words possible, that you misunderstood perhaps what the two of you are to each other. You can feel the heat rise in your face as you speak, embarrassed by how whiny and childish you sound.

He has his bio-mask on, so he looks blankly impassive as he watches you, but his voice is oddly gentle. As he lets you down.

“You are not Yautja,” he explains.

“Well, no…but I thought you knew that.”

He ignores your weak teasing.

“I protect you, and you tell stories.”

“Yes. Y-yeah, okay.”

“It would kill you if I mated you,” he says, and he sounds almost kind. Apologetic.

You shake your head faintly. “No, I understand. I just meant—"

He cuts you off. “You are a very small and very weak ooman-di. It would kill even the strongest ooman-di.”

There’s no point in trying to explain yourself. No point in trying to explain that humans have all sorts of touch, and that you hadn’t been asking for….that. That you only wanted a little closeness, to not always wrap yourself up in your furs each night alone.

Your cheeks burn in humiliation. Who would have thought you’d experience the same sort of rejection on an alien planet as you did on Earth?

“Yeah, got it. Glad we, uh, cleared this up,” you mutter.

*****

It was perhaps a bad idea to return to Earth for you.

He thought, at the time, that the cracked-open feeling in his chest would fade if he returned for you. For a while, it did. For a while, his chest felt too full, but not in a painful way, and he thought it was the consequence of having you with him again.

But now, the cracked-open feeling returns. And worse than that, a restless irritation fills him when he’s with you for too long. He cannot guess its source beyond you: when he’s with you too long, you invade all of his senses. The ooman scent of you, the sounds of you humming or singing, the sight of your soft body cooking or sparking a fire into life. The sight of you wrapped in his furs at night, how you sometimes kick in your sleep, how your forehead furrows at whatever mad ooman dreams fill your skull, but how you sometimes also moan in your sleep, the sound alone enough to make his senses spark to life, but sometimes he can scent your arousal on those nights, and he must leave the light of the fire and stalk through the night until he calms.

The pained feeling in his chest, when you touch him and he recoils. When he sees the sadness on your face.

The restless irritation when he stalks away because he wants your touch more than anything. In the span of his long life, he’s never been so gently touched.

It is an impossible thing. He has to content himself with having you near him. He cannot mate you: for one, he could not give you pups. For another, Yautja mating is a violent, painful thing. He would not hurt you; he would not throw you in the dirt and overpower you.

He tries to explain the first part to you, later on when you’re both on his ship. You blink at him, and he can see through his bio-mask how the blood rushes to your face and neck. Oomans are so sensitive, and something about his explanation makes your temperature flare hotter.

“I understand,” you tell him, speaking slowly. “Yautja…mating is just different from human mating.”

He nods, and the question only comes to him later, after he lands the ship on a new planet.

“What is ooman mating like?”

-----

Be’kan only understands some of it. Your blood heats up to an alarming degree, and your words seem to fail because you are silent a long while before you start to speak.

You use words that are foreign to him, that have no translation into his mother tongue. He makes you explain, makes you break each concept down to its most essential components until he understands.

Words like desire. Pleasure. Respect. It takes so long to explain that your mouth gets dry, and you require much cool water before you can continue.

He’s always known that oomans are a crafty, cunning species. It is their only advantage over the Yautja, the only thing that makes them worthy prey with their soft hides and soft claws and dull teeth. Be’kan just never knew that the ooman inventiveness extended to mating. To coupling.

It is so like your kind, to take the most basic imperative of any species—to continue the species, to breed—and turn it into pleasure. Into fun. Into some version of pain that leads to pleasure, and that takes Be’kan a long while to grasp.

Much like how you, as a storyteller, take the facts of a story and embellish them with all of your fine ooman words, your kind takes the bare face of breeding and embellishes it. You even have different words for the act, and your face flares hot and burning as you tell him those words.

Make love. Have sex. Fuck.

“What is the difference?” he asks, openly bewildered and you groan at him, pained, then ask for more water.

Afterwards, you hesitate, then ask him what Yautja mating is like, and he explains it.

How a Yautja male finds a female he deems suitable, then gifts her with a skull. The more suitable the female, the more precious the skull—the best being the skull of a kiande amedha. If the female accepts the skull, then the male is free to pursue her once her heat is upon her. He accepts that if she is stronger, if she proves a better fighter, then he will die. The female will kill him, and the species will be stronger for it.

“Sounds painful,” you murmur, and he admits that it is. There is no soft touching, no soft words. The only pleasure is that of a successful breeding, of continuing a bloodline.

So it’s a revelation, learning from his little ooman-di, that there could be another way.

*****

The change in him is subtle, at first.

At first, he only sleeps a little closer to you. Within arm’s reach now (his arm, not yours).

You suspect that when you’re asleep, he touches you. Not in any way that’s inappropriate, but you guess that he touches perhaps your hand or arm when they stick out from under the fur. Perhaps your face. Perhaps your hair.

You also suspect that when he goes off to hunt, he’s not really hunting. You suspect that he puts on his cloaking shield and stalks you—as you work around the campsite, as you tidy up.

As you bathe.

You know by now what it means to be prey. When you go to the nearby water—the river or lake, depending on where you are—when you strip down and dive in, you can feel eyes on you. His eyes.

Your long talk about….mating (the word makes you wince, embarrassed at how frank it had to be, for his sake) seems to have shifted something in him. You still tell him stories each night, but he’s less attentive to what you say. He seems fixated on you, staring hard at you, his small golden eyes unblinking as you make your way through the latest saga. You’ve taken him back to earlier human stories, and you’re working through “Beowulf”—

“Will you touch me?” he asks, interrupting the part of the story when Grendel’s mother comes to avenge the death of her son.

You sputter at his question. Gape at him a long moment. Is he asking what you think he’s asking?

“W-where?” you ask, and he hesitates, then taps a blunt claw in the middle of his chest. Where, theoretically, his heart lies.

You stand up and walk over to him. Even sitting cross-legged as he is, he’s eye to eye with you where you stand in front of him. You reach out a hand, pause, then lay your palm over the spot where he tapped. And yes, that must be where his wild Yautja heart lies because you can feel it beating.

“Here?” you whisper, and he nods. He makes a noise that sounds pained, almost a groan…but then he starts to purr, like a giant housecat content and lazing.

“It is like you said with ooman mating,” he growls, low. “There is a pain there, but now there is also pleasure.”

You don’t question what he means and you don’t dare guess. You stand there and watch as he shuts his eyes, as his mandibles flare and then settle. You stand there a long while, hand over his heart, and when it’s finally time to retire for the night, he lies right beside you—pulls the length of your body against his larger one, tucks your head right against his heart.

*****

Yautja may not have the inborn inventiveness or imagination of the oomans, but they are extremely adaptable. They learn from their mistakes. They learn from their prey.

Be’kan learns from you.

He learns the pleasure of touch, though of course he has no way of knowing how chaste it is by ooman standards. The feeling of your body tucked against his, the way it feels even more secure, like he can protect you even better. The feeling of your hands on him—always slow to approach, tentative to touch. Your hand on his chest, as he asked that night. Your hand in his, your fragile fingers laced through his own.

Once, you touch the sensitive appendages on his head—just a gentle touch, running your fingers through them—and the feeling is like a thunderbolt of want deep in his loins. You have no way of knowing how sexual of a touch it is—how mating Yautja yank and pull against them. Of course you wouldn’t know. The appendages that grow from your head are soft, lifeless. Ornamental. They serve no purpose.

That touch—your gentle hand inextricably linked to the place where Yautja grab and yank and pull when they mate—once it’s in his head, he cannot dislodge it, no matter how he tries.

-----

Days later, back on his ship as you prepare to journey to a new planet, he asks you how oomans mate.

As always, your temperature raises, your heart rate increases. He can sense all the ways you’re affected by his questions through his bio-mask, and he huffs out a breath, amused. You are fragile in your form and your sensibilities.

“Lots of ways,” you mumble.

“Explain.”

You sigh, and he sees you do that thing with your too-big eyes, the way you roll them in their sockets—at first he thought it a sign of distress, but he’s learned that it means irritation too.

“There are a lot of ways.” You pause, sigh again. “Aren’t there a lot of ways to kill your prey? You shoot them, stab them, tear off their heads? Human mating is like that.”

“Varied.”

“Yes.”

“Explain.”

He hears you heart. He hears how it beats even faster, but then you explain the inventive, innovation oomans and the many ways they mate, the positions and more, how they can use every part of them to give and take pleasure—even their hands and mouths—and Be’kan sits in stunned silence for a long, long moment.

*****

Be’kan tells you that he has to leave you for a while, but he’s quick to allay your fear and say it’s not forever. Not even for a very long time.

“I don’t see why you need to leave at all,” you tell him with a frown.

“I have a Hunt that is very dangerous. It is too dangerous for you.”

“And where am I staying?”

As it turns out, you’re staying with his brothers. He takes you to where they are, not hunting but resting and preparing for their next hunt, and Be’kan barks at them for a long while, furiously chitters and growls. Once or twice, he cuffs them, then growls some more.

Then he returns to where you’re standing, uncertain.

“They will protect you. They will make sure you are cared for.” He pauses, tilts his head at you. “They will not touch you. I will be able to scent them if they do, and I will kill them if they do.”

“I don’t know why I can’t go with you.”

Away from where his brothers stand, he reaches out one of his giant hands and smooths it over your hair, tugs lightly against the ends. “I would not risk you.”

“You’ll be careful?”

He growls. “I will be victorious.”

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes. The planet you’re on seems to run long on the days, longer than on Earth. You find yourself getting tired when it’s light outside, then waking up when it’s dark. You’re disoriented, cranky.

Be’kan’s brothers are deferential, but still obviously curious about you. They watch your every move, their cold masks tracking you around the campsite. They also seem younger; they lack the calm dignity that your Yautja has. One of their favorite things to do is to fight each other for your entertainment, like teenaged boys showing off.

You never know how to react, so when one is bleeding in the dirt, you clap politely, and that seems to please them.

Other nights, you tell them stories about warrior brothers (changing the story of “Lonesome Dove” to a story to obviously fit them), and that seems to please them even more.

-----

Be’kan returns soon enough, and you can see fresh scars on him. His kind heal ridiculously fast, but there are white scars, barely healed, on his chest and shoulder.

He doesn’t say anything beyond offering his thanks to his brothers, then gestures at you to follow him back to his ship.

He doesn’t speak until you’re on your way to a new planet. Once the coordinates are set, he stands up from his seat in the cockpit. Gestures to you again, takes you to your shared sleeping quarters. He reaches into a compartment, his back to you—and when he turns to face you, he has a skull in his hands. A long alien skull, full of teeth. Huge. You hate to think what the creature looked like alive.

“A kiande amedha,” he says.

Then he hands it to you. Gifts it to you. You know what it means, this gesture. You know what it means to reject the gift, and what it means to accept it.

You accept it.

#yautja #yautja x reader #yautja imagine #predator #predator x reader #predator imagine #predator franchise #the predator #tropes-and-tales

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