#orignal oc

[n1ght0f-nyx]

WOVEN BONDS IS AMAZING!!!!! Pls make part 2,3,4,5,6 😭🫡💖

woven bonds pt 2

this was very requested so here we are!!

You've been sold to an orc by your father, and after shutting yourself in for a few weeks, youve finally started to come to enjoy your new husbands company

warnings/tags- bedrotting, arranged marrige but pertah loves you so thats nice, pert'ah speaks with semi-broken english

word count- 1167

The days that followed were filled with silence, but it was a different kind of silence. No longer filled with the heavy weight of anger or hopelessness, it was instead filled with uncertainty. Pert'ah continued his routine—bringing you food, speaking to you in soft tones, always giving you space while he worked outside or wove intricate tapestries by the hearth. He never pushed, never demanded anything from you.

Yet, you felt a change inside yourself.

It was small at first. One morning, after he had left a bowl of fruit by your bedside, you reached out and took a piece, biting into it with a sense of resignation. It was sweeter than you had expected, and you found yourself eating more. That night, you ate a bit of the stew he left. It wasn’t the same as the dishes from your old home, but it was warm, hearty, and made with care.

Pert'ah noticed. You could see the relief in his eyes when he glanced at the empty bowl later that day. He didn’t say anything, but the gentle way his lips turned upward spoke volumes. 

As days passed, you started to leave the bed for longer periods. You’d sit by the window and watch him work outside. Pert'ah would spend hours weaving, his large hands surprisingly nimble as they guided the threads into beautiful patterns. Sometimes, he would carve small figures out of wood or clay, his concentration deep as he brought the raw materials to life. The more you watched him, the more you saw the softness behind his hardened exterior. There was an artistry to everything he did, a careful thoughtfulness.

Slowly, you began to speak to him.

It wasn’t much at first—a word here, a question there—but Pert'ah’s eyes lit up each time you addressed him. His responses were always careful, his voice soft and unsure as if he feared saying the wrong thing and scaring you away.

One evening, you found yourself standing outside the hut, watching him work on a large tapestry. The orange light from the setting sun filtered through the trees, casting warm shadows over his figure. He glanced up when he noticed you, his brow furrowing slightly as if he couldn’t believe you were there.

"I… I work on this for winter," he said, standing up slowly, dusting off his hands. "Keep us warm."

You nodded, stepping closer. The tapestry was beautiful, its rich colors weaving together in patterns of leaves and flowers. It was unlike anything you had ever seen, a testament to his skill.

"It’s… it’s beautiful," you said softly, your voice quiet but sincere.

Pert'ah’s eyes widened slightly. He looked at you as though you had given him the greatest compliment in the world. His lips parted, but he didn’t speak right away. Instead, he took a step toward you, his large hand tentatively reaching out as though he wanted to touch your arm, but he hesitated.

"You think so?" he asked, his voice low, almost shy. "I… I make it for you. For us."

You felt something in your chest stir at his words, a warmth that was unfamiliar but not unpleasant. Pert'ah had been nothing but kind to you, patient in a way you had never expected from an orc. And now, as you stood in the golden light of dusk, watching him look at you with such raw vulnerability, you realized you were no longer as angry as you once were.

In the days that followed, you found yourself drawn to him more and more. Pert'ah would tell you stories of his clan, how he had been raised as a weaver and how orc culture was not as warlike as humans believed. He would sit by the fire in the evenings, his deep voice filling the room as he spoke of the orcs’ long history of craftsmanship, of art, and of building rather than destroying.

And slowly, your barriers began to crumble.

One night, after dinner, you sat together in the hut, the fire crackling softly as you both shared a quiet moment. Pert'ah was working on another carving, his large fingers skillfully shaping the wood into something delicate. You watched him for a while, fascinated by the contrast between his size and the gentleness of his craft.

"Why… why do you make so many things?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Pert'ah paused, looking up at you with a small smile. "I make because I love it. It make world… more beautiful." His eyes softened as they met yours. "And now… I make for you."

The way he said it, so simple and yet so full of meaning, made your heart skip a beat. Pert'ah wasn’t just making things to fill the space. He was making them for you, offering pieces of himself in every woven thread and carved figure. 

Over time, Pert'ah became more than just the orc you had been forced to marry. He became the person you looked forward to seeing each day, the one who spoke to you with care and treated you with a tenderness that slowly melted away your fears.

Pert'ah, for his part, was falling deeper in love with you with each passing day. He adored every small smile you gave him, every word you spoke. It was as though you were the center of his world now, and he wanted nothing more than to make you happy. He would wake up early to prepare your meals, always trying new dishes to see which ones you liked. He would carve small figures for you, weaving your favorite flowers into tapestries.

His love grew more intense, almost obsessive, but never in a way that felt suffocating. He watched you with reverence, always making sure to give you the space you needed, but it was clear in his eyes—Pert'ah was head over heels in love. You had become his muse, his heart, and every moment with you only deepened his feelings.

One night, as you sat together by the fire, Pert'ah spoke softly, his voice filled with emotion.

"[Name]… I never think I can feel like this. You make my heart… full." He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. "I love you. I love you more than anything. I do anything for you. Alway.."

Your breath caught in your throat at his confession. You could feel the depth of his feelings, the way his eyes searched yours for any sign of rejection or acceptance.For the first time, you didn’t shy away. Instead, you reached out, placing your hand gently on his. His skin was warm, rough but comforting beneath your touch.

"I don’t know if I’m ready to say that yet," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "But… I do care about you, Pert'ah."

His face lit up with a smile so wide it made your heart flutter. "That enough for me. I wait for you..alway.."

And for the first time since your marriage, you smiled back.

[fandomzwriterk]

I call it now… Bi Han has a bondage kink and makes his S/O tie him up or he ties THEM up 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 SOMEBODY PLEASEEEEE GIVE ME THIS🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

[fluffffpillow]

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[fruitgravies]

sweet baby… this was so so so fun to draw. shoutout to the tens of vintage shaving cream ads i combed through to reference this

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[blood3red]

Coworker beef.

[fishbird73]

Girl you are MOULDING!! MOULD is in your hair !!!

$5 usd highlighter/pen sketches like these are open, just dm ‼️

[webcomic-the-decaying]

New Val Reference Sheet (12/25) ! Chapter 2 release date is nearing soon.. January 2025 everyone! Ty for your patience!

[louloulov3surmom]

✨NSFW warning ✨

🎀✨YCH for someone on Toyhouse ^_^!!

🎀✨Bunny Girls!✨🎀

[velocitygirl5]

Concept Art for my character Monalise

More info below!!

For this piece, my art teacher encouraged me to do something that goes with the wind. I tend to get caught up in the simple details and spend hours and weeks on a single drawing. This year I want to make as much art as I can and not worry about the quality. For this goal I will be working on concept art for my personal story called Cobalt. This piece highlights one of the main members of the cast Monalise, she is seen across this universe as a mortal deity. She directs a group of enforcers that specialize in major disasters. I want to just portray how old and known she is in this universe by giving her a stained glass mural.

[n1ght0f-nyx]

For your orc of x reader, what if you did a part where reader is sick and Pert'ah is just slightly panicking and doesn't full know what to do with her? I just spam read that entire series!

Pertah x sick reader

warnings/ tags- reader has flu, reader and pertah have a official relationship now!

Word count- 1105 words

The morning started like any other. Pert’ah had woken early, tending to the hearth fire and preparing breakfast before quietly leaving to collect new weaving supplies from the market. When he returned, however, the air in the house felt… wrong. The comforting warmth seemed heavier, and the usually subtle scent of herbs and wood smoke was overwhelmed by something sharper—sickness.

Pert’ah’s golden eyes immediately landed on you. You were still curled up in the bed you now shared, your form tangled in blankets. Normally, you would have been awake by now, teasing him or helping with his projects. But today, you hadn’t even stirred.

“Little one?” Pert’ah’s deep, gravelly voice was unusually soft as he approached. He crouched by the bed, his brow furrowing as he took in your flushed face and sweat-dampened hair.

You cracked one eye open, your gaze glassy and unfocused. “Pert’ah?” you croaked, your voice hoarse and weak.

His heart lurched. You looked so small, so fragile. The sight of you like this sent a ripple of unease through him. “You are sick?” he asked, his hand hesitating before brushing the back of your forehead with surprising tenderness.

The heat radiating off your skin made him flinch. “Hot,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Too hot.”

You groaned softly, your head turning into the pillow. “Just a cold… or flu…”

Pert’ah frowned, unfamiliar with the words. Orcs rarely fell ill, and even when they did, they usually healed quickly with a concoction of herbal remedies. But you were human, and Pert’ah wasn’t sure what your body needed—or if your sickness was serious.

He sat back on his heels, his tail flicking nervously behind him. “What do I do?” he muttered under his breath, a note of panic creeping into his voice.

“I’ll… I’ll be fine,” you murmured, though your words were barely audible.

Pert’ah didn’t believe you for a second. He wasn’t about to sit idly by when you looked so miserable. Standing abruptly, he began pacing the room, his mind racing.

“Water,” he decided out loud, nodding to himself. “She needs water.”

He filled a pint mug and brought it to your bedside, gently lifting you so you could drink. His large hand cradled your head as you sipped weakly. When you tried to push the cup away, Pert’ah frowned.

“Not enough,” he insisted, though his voice was still gentle. “Drink more. You must stay strong.”

You gave him a weak glare, but the exhaustion in your body won out, and you obeyed. Once he was satisfied, Pert’ah set the cup aside and tucked you back into the blankets, making sure they were snug but not stifling.

He hovered for a moment, unsure what to do next. You needed something else, but what? His clan’s healer? A stronger fire? A remedy?

“Stay here,” he said, as if you had the energy to go anywhere. “I will find help.”

Before you could protest, Pert’ah was already out the door, his strides purposeful despite the turmoil in his chest. He headed straight for the elder healer, a woman with years of experience tending to the clan’s ailments. She looked up from her herbs when Pert’ah barged in, his normally calm demeanor replaced by urgency.

“My mate is sick,” he blurted, his words tumbling over each other. “She is human. She is… hot. Weak. I do not know what to do.”

The healer raised an eyebrow at him, her calm demeanor contrasting sharply with his agitation. “Humans often fall ill,” she said, gathering a small pouch of herbs. “Flu, as you called it, is common. These will help bring her fever down.”

Pert’ah accepted the pouch with both hands, bowing his head slightly. “Thank you. What else can I do?”

“Keep her cool,” the healer advised. “Make sure she drinks plenty of water and rests. She will recover.”

When Pert’ah returned, he found you half-asleep, your body too exhausted to even lift your head. He felt a pang of guilt as he crouched beside you again, placing a cool, damp cloth on your forehead.

“I am here,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I will take care of you.”

He carefully brewed the herbs into a tea, his hands steady despite the worry etched into his features. Once it was ready, he brought it to you, sitting on the edge of the bed to help you drink.

“It tastes awful,” you mumbled after the first sip, your nose scrunching up.

Pert’ah chuckled softly, the sound a rare comfort. “Good medicine often does,” he replied, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “But it will help. Drink more.”

You complied, though you made a face with every sip. Pert’ah’s hand never left your back, his touch warm and reassuring.

As the day wore on, Pert’ah refused to leave your side. He kept the fire at just the right level, not too hot, and brought you more water and herbal tea every hour. Whenever you shifted uncomfortably, he adjusted the blankets or placed the cool cloth back on your forehead.

At one point, you woke to find him pacing again, his tail swishing anxiously. “Pert’ah,” you rasped, your voice a little stronger now.

He stopped immediately, turning to you with wide, worried eyes. “What do you need?” he asked, crouching by your side once more.

You smiled weakly, reaching out to touch his arm. “You’re doing great,” you murmured.

Pert’ah blinked, his expression softening. “You are strong,” he said, as if the words were a vow. “You will get better.”

By the next morning, your fever had started to break. You still felt weak, but the ache in your body had lessened, and the world didn’t feel quite as hazy. Pert’ah, however, looked like he hadn’t slept a wink.

“You need rest too,” you said softly as he handed you another cup of water.

Pert’ah shook his head. “Not until you are well,” he replied firmly.

You smiled at his stubbornness, your heart swelling with affection. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He sat beside you, his hand covering yours. “You are my mate,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “It is my duty to care for you. Always.”

And in that moment, you knew you were in the best hands.

[fandomzwriterk]

MORTAL KOMBAT MASTERLIST🎬

➡️Smoke & Mirrors - Smoke/Tomas Vrbada x OC pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10,

➡️Smoke x Reader - Fluff

➡️Tomas/Bi Han/Raiden x Lazy!Reader - headcanons

➡️Lin Kuei Trio - Little sister reader - fluff

➡️Lin Kuei Trio w/ a daughter headcanons - fluff

➡️Tomas Vrbada/Smoke x Fem!Reader - no warnings

➡️Tomas Vrbada/Smoke x Fem!Reader - cursing

➡️Lose My Breath - Smoke x Reader - fluff

➡️Liu Kang x Reader - none

➡️Lin Kuei Trio - giving your child a lemon - fluff

➡️Lin Kuei Trio x Deadpool/Wolverine reader - blood

➡️Kuai Liang/Reader/Bi Han - “Kiriko” reader - none

➡️Tomas Vrbada/Smoke x Biker!Reader - none

➡️Tomas Vrbada/Smoke x Kitsune!Reader - none

➡️Tomas Vrbada/Smoke x Reader - teasing

➡️Tomas Vrbada/Smoke x Fem!Reader - Buffy!Reader

[deadflowrrs]

Millennium - prologue

†††

"There is a mole hiding amongst jujutsu high, and the corpse of a recently deceased young Sorceress has gone missing..."

(cw: slight gore, mentions of canon characters, canon divergent, and usage of original non canon characters)

"You're not the strongest. You're not even the second strongest. Hell, you were barely a 3rd rate sorceress."

The rusty lock on the door hinge screeched, grinding together, as it twisted into place. A resounding click echoed sharply throughout the damp emptiness of the darkened room. A single light flickered overhead, barely illuminating the dark confined space.

The wooden floorboards creaked and groaned in protest, with each heavy footfall, of his boots against the splintered wood. With a grunt, he dropped the heavy bundle of sheets from his arms, onto the singular medical bed, positioned at the center of the dank room.

"You were just some kid." His voice mused softly, the lit cigarette hanging between his parted lips dropped a few ashes. Pinching the cigarette between two fingers, Trevor stubbed it out on the edge of the medical bed.

"I told you. I warned you. You'd get hurt. That people like you should stay where they belong." He scoffed to himself, his dark eyes unwavering from the blanketed form before him. Splayed out on the table, and wrapped in a stained white sheet. "If you weren't so persistent-" He reached into a drawer nearby, retrieving a box of medical gloves. "You would still be fucking alive."

His gloved hands unwrapped the covered figure, peeling back the blood soaked sheets with methodological precision. Gently tugging back the blanket to not further disturb the maimed body. "Fuck.... You've seen better days, haven't you, Jewel?" He chuckled darkly to himself.

Sliced clean, in a diagonal line, straight across her chest, to the bend of her left arm, and another across her lower abdomen. She was served into a total of 4 pieces. Exposed bones had been sawed clean in half, almost in a professional manner with each precise cut. Blood mated her dark curls, and face, causing her hair to cling to her forehead and cheeks. Decomposition has already begun to set in. Her skin has taken on a greyish hue, her lips a light shade of purple. Most of all, was the significant smell of rotting flesh, that permeated throughout the air, within the confined room.

"It's okay that you were never the strongest in your life." He leaned in closer, a manic gleam in his eyes, as his looming figure cast a shadow over her paled face. "I can make you the strongest in your death."

There was a soft knock against the door, snapping Trevor out of his thoughts. Chuckling softly to himself, he straightened up, before pivoting on his heel and making his way to the door. The lock clicked, then the door groaned as it was pulled open by Trevor.

"You're a little earlier than I expected..." Trevor murmured, running his scared fingers through his dark hair.

"You wouldn't prefer I was late, would you?"

The man on the other side of the door stepped inside. His dark hair fanned around his pale face, and a hat obscuring the bulk of his features, specifically positioned on his head to cover his forehead.

"Nah. I guess you're right." Trevor mused, locking the door once more, with a simple twist of his wrist. Trevor's dark green eyes remained trained on the man's back for a moment longer, before he stepped forward again to stand shoulder to shoulder with the man in black.

"Such a rare specimen, and you said she had no living relatives?"

The dark haired man inquired softly, reaching out to lightly touch Jewel's frozen face.

Tucking his hands into his white lab coat, Trevor smirked, with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Yeah. No one here in Japan at least. Can't get in contact with anyone from the States either. She was under my care for that reason. Jujutsu High allows its students to live on campus, in personal dorms as well."

The man hummed in response. "I see. Her body was healthy, correct? No history of illnesses? Infections?"

"Jeez, who do you take me for? Of course not. You'd think after we've known each other for so long you'd know me better... Kenny." Trevor chuckled, patting Kenjaku's shoulder in a playacting manner.

"I thought I told you to stop calling me that...?" Kenjaku raised an arched brow at Trevor, glanced briefly to the side, before smirking. Trevor shrugged dismissively, with an amused smirk playing at his lips. Turning back around, Kenjaku began to examine the corpse before him, with a critical glint in his obsidian eyes. After a long beat of silence, filled with Kenjaku's inquisitive hums, he straightened up, folding his arms over his broad chest. “A body manipulation cursed technique, how intriguing.” He tapped a finger to his chin. “Perhaps it has to do with her heritage, it's an extremely rare technique in itself. Much like that- Oh- who was it..?” Kenjaku frowned, wracking his brain for a name he couldn't quite seem to place.

“You mean the Geto kid, right? He has a form of Manipulation cursed energy, if my memory serves me correctly?” Trevor glanced at Kenjaku, gauging his reaction, with a raised brow. “Ah! Yes.” Kenjaku snapped his fingers with a satisfied hum. “That's who it was. Suguru Geto. Another sorcerer with a rare technique.”

Trevor was silent a moment longer, shifting his weight from foot to foot, before he spoke again. “He probably wouldn't be a good candidate…at least not right now. I'm sure that Gojo kid would sniff you out immediately.” Trevor straightened up with a yawn, scratching the back of his head with an air of casual nonchalance. “You think I don't know that?” Kenjaku chuckled, retracting his hand from his chin, he brought his hand down to rest on the crown of Jewel’s head.

“If my great niece is anything like her uncle… then death is nothing more than a minor setback.” Kenjaku ran a thumb across the cool skin of her forehead, brushing the curls out of the way, with a calculating glint in his eyes.

“What do you have in mind..? I mean, she was only a 2nd or 3rd grade Sorceress.” Trevor murmured lowly, pinching his chin between his thumb and forefinger, as he narrowed his green eyes slightly at Kenjaku. “In due time my friend.” Kenjaku mused, leaned down to open one of her eyes. A piercing reddish-auburn pupil gazed back, glassy and unfocused. “She's not dead. Not yet anyway...at least her soul isn't, despite the current state of her physical form. It seems I'm not as rusty as I initially thought.” Kenjaku pulled away again, folding his arms into his black yutaka. “Keep an eye on her body. Something interesting may just happen.”

With that, Kenjaku turned to leave, his sandals clicking softly against the creaking wood of the old floors. The heavy wooden door creaked loudly, before slamming shut behind him, with a resounding thud. The light above continued to flicker overhead, casting long shadows over Trevor’s angular features.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean…?”

[f0xysthings]

Random tiger oc

[blood3red]

Bredverse! Scarecrow

[p00lmaintenance]

one of my regular oc illustrations

[webcomic-the-decaying]

Immunity- 11 | Page 19

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