#Human AU short

[deunmiu-dessie]

1/2 (unedited)

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎ : in the year 3020, androids of all types are being produced globally. cybernautic technologies (cnt), the leading company in the field, is offering anyone who has bought an android from them the opportunity to be selected as a beta tester for any of their upcoming models at no cost—all you have to do is sign up. while the odds of being chosen are quite low, when cnt has revealed the imminent launch of their latest android, named 'the guard dog.' you arrive home to a large, heavy package bearing the cybernautic technologies logo waiting at your doorstep.

SEPTEMBER 11TH, 3020 ⸺ ANDROMEXUS CITY, FELICITY PORT— THE PROSPECT RESTAURANT | 10:16 PM.

“hello, welcome to the prospect, i’ll be your server for today.”

“will that be all?”

“thank you for dining here at the prospect!”

“what would you like to drink tonight?”

“would you prefer soup or salad?”

“will you be paying in credits?”

“it seems you're low on mexus currency, we’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“here at the prospect, everything is cooked and served by humans.”

“enjoy the rest of your stay here in felicity port.”

⸺⸺⸺⸺ ☙ ⸺⸺⸺⸺

everything slipped by in a haze, a blur of muted colors and indistinct sounds, as if the world outside had faded into a dreamlike state; and you don't remember eating at all today. the gnawing emptiness in your belly screaming for attention is testament to that, your body desperately trying to consume itself whole in mutiny. your fingers glide over the soft fat of your stomach, a tender caress meant to placate the piercing pains and the grumbling whale noises. however, it continues its revolt and doubles its efforts.

as a matter of fact, you couldn't remember if you’d even gone home the day prior or stayed to work through your off hours into this shift. because the moment you clocked in, time seemed nonexistent. hours evaporated into mere moments, while seconds stretched into agonizing eternities, voices overlapped and the heat of the kitchen crept underneath skin and charred bones, words pierced hearts and knives nicked flesh. claret hued blood confused with strawberry puree.

 there was no concept of time here at the prospect. you realized that a month into working. after weeks and weeks of grueling work, where each day bled into the next, a nightmarish cycle of labor that left you retching and gasping for air every single time you came home, time seemed to warp and stretch. it felt as if the second you crossed the threshold of your home, you were heading back to work, with barely enough time to brush the smell of puke from your breath. and for the entire bleak month of feburary, you found yourself ensnared in a twisted romance with your bathroom toilet; a tall glass of orange juice- your only companion in this grim affair.

and because there was never a point when the restaurant was empty, there was never a moment when the workers could break. never a moment to catch your breath, to declutter your mind, to steady your heart, never a time to think. thoughts raced like the orders flying out of the kitchen; contemplation was a luxury they could not afford. adapt or face the door—those were the unspoken rules. amy, one of the general managers, often said, “you can rest when you’re six feet under.” ironically, her break arrived just a few months later.

the prospect stood as a rare sanctuary in a world dominated by machines, and was one of the few places that hired humans and humans only. a coveted position here came with a lengthy waiting list, despite the shit wages which barely compensated for the grueling labor. so there was no way you would leave, no way you could quit. besides, it wasn't all bad— it was quite the close-knit family here, and working could be fun most days with the right manager scheduled. and the perks were good enough. you needed the money.

“chica? you leavin’?”

your head swivels tiredly in the direction of the smooth, rich voice of your co-worker nina, her long dark tresses are pulled into a low ponytail, and the familiar piercings that embellish her spheroidal face—tiny silver hoops and delicate studs— have been taken off for the start of her shift, giving her an unexpectedly fresh look. your thoughts scatter the moment you see her, like autumn leaves in a brisk wind, as if attempting to hide from nina's presence despite the woman not being able to hear them.

your hand drops from the hold on your pained stomach, gliding down to the unforgiving chill of the bench beneath you, the shock of the cold metal causes goosebumps to ghost along your skin. when the two of you meet eyes, you can't help but grin teasingly as you respond to her, “mhm, i’m off the next two days as well,” there's a keen lilt to your voice and nina groans, her head teetering back in disbelief, her soft, rounded hands settling defiantly on her curvy hips. nina's gaze resembles deep pools of dark chocolate, rich and indulgent, infused with a small hint of cayenne.

“tell me you're thinkin’ about pickin’ up,” her voice pleads, her curvaceous figure now leaning against the threshold of the changing room. nina’s lips, petite yet full with a pronounced cupid's bow, pull into a soft frown, her chin set and a small dimple forming in the skin.

nina’d been working at the prospect long before you came, but the two of you formed bonds quickly in only a couple of weeks despite the age gap, with her being a few years your senior, the connection felt effortless. “i have a new server comin’ in and i don't want to train him alone, you know how packed we get on saturdays.” she mutters bitterly and your nose scrunches up at the mere idea of having to work on the weekend.

because the prospect was one of the three human ran restaurants in felicity port, that wasn't in the glades, it was bound to be packed and always drew in crowds like moths to a flame. most of the dickheads and drunks came out on the weekends and most workers dreaded being scheduled for it. however, when you and nina were on the clock together, most would leap at the chance to work those nights. you let out a sigh and shake your head, lips pursing and toeing into your beat-up shoes. “i would– you know i would, but cody is on my ass for the amount of overtime i racked up last month, so i can't.”

nina’s forehead gently collides with the door frame as she processes your response, a rhythmic thud echoing in the air. after a few moments, she pivots her head to meet your gaze. “bitch, why do you do these things to me? creo que voy a dejarlo.” the question is filled with exhaustion and slight irritation that has your mouth opening in a boisterous laugh, much to nina's growing irritation. the hispanic woman's hand lifts from its grip on the doorframe, and the middle finger raises slowly, but it only makes you laugh harder as you clutch your weathered tote bag and rise from the cold metal bench. ( i think i'm going to quit. )

you lightly tap the toe of your shoes against the floor before walking towards nina and enveloping her shoulders with your arm, lips pressing to her olive toned cheek as a parting gift, soft chuckles still slipping from your lips. "i'll see you monday, nina." you tell her softly, patting her shoulder, then glide by her, walking to the back door of the restaurant.

SEPTEMBER 11TH, 3020 ⸺ ANDROMEXUS CITY, FELICITY PORT— THE PROSPECT RESTAURANT | 10:45 PM.

there's a chill in the air the moment you cross the threshold into the open, the warm autumn air from early in the morning feels like a figment of your imagination. and for a heartbeat, you linger, eyes lifted to the synthetic trees that stretch toward the artificial night sky, watching the transformation of leaves from vibrant green to fiery red, cascading down to the metallic earth below. where with each leaf that touches the surface, vanishes in a delicate explosion of shimmering blue motes.

the loud hum of machinery, and the occasional chirp of synthetic birds flitting between the branches makes your stomach churn. there was nothing real here.

despite it being deep into the night, felicity port was as bright and loud as ever. known to outsiders as: the place that never sleeps, andromexus city thrummed with life. the sharp sound of flying cars and the whoosh of hoverboards, the loud thrum of the machinery just beneath the metallic sidewalks and roads, the sound of pleasure androids promoting their workplace, and the sound of rowdy human men that came with it. there was never a moment where felicity port was silent, never a moment where shit wasn't happening.

it was a place where dreams were made and also came to die-- everyone yearned to call andromexus city home, yet only a select few could endure its relentless pace. it stopped for no one and at times, you wondered how you managed to survive.

your eyes flit around the darkened alleyway, well as dark as it could get with the flickering glow of promotional drones flying around, their neon signs casting a sharp light. you search intently until your eyes land on what you're looking for, or perhaps, who, you are looking for. with a steady stride, you approach the homeless man, joel, an older gentleman whose wisdom is etched into the lines of his weathered face. yet, despite the knowledge that comes with age, he has found himself adrift in felicity port, stripped of mexus currency and credits. "joel, i got you something to eat."

his lashes, wispy and white as gossamer, flutter before his eyelids lift revealing soft irises of honey brown and milky white. he was blind in one eye. joel's gaze seems to brighten the moment that they find you, a smile pulling at his thin lips, his crooked, yellow teeth on display to give you a warm smile. "you're here," the man murmurs, his voice raspy yet tender, as he shifts slightly beneath the thick blanket, a gift given to him by you.

you can't help the smile that blooms on your face as you crouch before him, rummaging through your well-worn tote bag to retrieve the food you had pilfered from the restaurant kitchen. "i am," you murmur back softly, grabbing his thin hand, blue veins protruding against his flesh. you gently place the hefty weight of the box in his grasp. "enjoy, joel,"

there's a soft pop of your joints when you stand from your crouched position and you grimace softly, hefting your tote bag over your shoulder once more and taking a few steps back from the man. with a swift turn, you exit the alleyway, a smile curling your lips when you hear the faint voice of joel calling out a, 'thank you', the bustling sounds of the street greeting you.

when you first moved to andromexus city, the sounds and smells of felicity port made you nauseous and dizzy. you could barely be outside for more than ten minutes without swallowing down the burning taste of vomit, without having your hands cushioning the weight of your skull in your palms. the lights were too bright, everything too loud, the smell of oil and smoke filling your lungs and clinging to the walls like an unwelcome guest you had been overwhelmed, with no one to help you become accustomed to it.

despite having resided in felicity port for a few years, there was still a dull ache in the back of your head the moment you stepped outside of your apartment. with a gentle shake of your head and a deep sigh, you deftly maneuver through the packed streets of the entertainment district, narrowly dodging teenagers zipping by on hoverboards and gliding on sonic razorblades. this was the familiar rhythm of your day, the 'dream' you had envisioned while living in nebulon city, where the population was only ten thousand.

"i'll take a corndog."

"that'll be five, in mexus currency."

the prices were cheap in felicity port but then again, the food wasn't real out here in the entertainment district. just crafted to resemble the culinary delights of a bygone era, a time when the world still had the animals and resources to create such dishes. you weren't too sure if this was even the original taste of a corndog, with its sweet, bready exterior and the savory meat hidden within, all generously slathered in ketchup and mustard. nothing was real.

as you turn down the familiar street that your apartment rests on, you observe the small android children frolicking on their porches, undeterred by the late hour. sleep was a concept foreign to them, after all; they weren't bound by human needs. your blunt human teeth bite into the familiar taste of the corndog, a treat you always got yourself the moment you got off of work. a soft sound of contentment escaped your lips, chewing slowly as your eyes took in the activity of felicity port.

"excuse me."

"sorry,"

the softness of your lips part to mutter, hips narrowly missing the patrolling security robot as you continue your way down the street. for a fleeting moment, your gaze lingers on the machine before you turn your attention ahead. andromexus city was no stranger to crime; it was a constant presence. it was inevitable with the number of jewle addicts and homeless that took up more than half the population and each night, countless individuals fell victim to theft, losing their credits and mexus currency. thankfully you had never been targeted before.

the moment your apartment complex comes into view, your eyes land on a huge box stationed in front of your door and your lashes flutter, your stomach clenching painfully from hunger. you instinctively press your fingers against your abdomen, trying to ease the discomfort, while you cautiously ascend the stairs to your floor. eyebrows furrowing and footsteps light. you hadn't ordered anything in months, yet with each step, your address becomes more distinct, and your name emerges clearly on the package.

your fingers glide across the surface of the box, your eyes darting around as you absorb its details, eventually settling on the tiny logo of cybernautic technologies nestled in the bottom right corner. your eyebrows lift in soft question before you slide past the box, placing your thumb on the doorknob. the scanner emits a red blinking light until the mechanical sound of your door unlocking is heard and the scanner flashes green.

as you turn the knob and push the door to your apartment ajar, you let your bag tumble to the floor with a soft thud. standing there, hands on your hips, you tilt your head back to scrutinize the top of the box that looms above you, lips trembling as you let out a sigh, muttering softly to yourself, "what the hell are you?"

SEPTEMBER 11TH, 3020 ⸺ ANDROMEXUS CITY, FELICITY PORT— PROXXY STREET | 11:57 PM.

it took more than half an hour for you to drag the box into your apartment and the center of your living room, it was as if it were a leaden weight that clung stubbornly to the ground. you were sure it weighed a ton, and in the process, you had chipped at least two nails.

now, standing before the box with your hip tilted to one side, you were drenched in sweat, your chest rising and falling with exertion. meanwhile, your android dog, who you named willow, was still stationed at its charging station and though the thought of letting her roam free while you tackled the unboxing was tempting, you ultimately decided against it.

walking to the kitchen, your hand instinctively reached for the laser knife nestled in its sheath. with purpose, you returned to the box, carefully slicing along the dotted lines designed for a precise opening of a package from cybernautic technologies. after a few deft cuts, the front of the box fell away, hitting the tiled floor with a resounding thud. your blade followed suit, clattering down just moments later as your gaze finally settled on the imposing figure within the box—a large, burly man, no android, firmly secured within it.

he was naked from his neck to the deep v-line at his hips; from then on he was covered by a pair of cnt boxer briefs that truly left little to the imagination. you swallow thickly, forcing your gaze to remain fixed on his face. he possessed a rugged handsomeness, his dark blonde hair tousled and his lips a delicate shell pink. he looked real, a vividness that made it difficult to believe he was an android. with a trembling hand, you reach up to brush softly against his cheek feeling the chill of his skin—a common trait among androids, especially when they were not connected to their charging stations.

your breath hitches just from the touch of his frigid artificial skin, and your fingertips brush and tap down his flesh until they get to his chest, where you press your palm firmly against him. your eyes remain fixed on his face, tilting your head slightly in a daze, lips slightly parted as your gaze roams over his features, the contours of his jawline, the curve of his lips, and the startling realness of his skin. there was something so different about him compared to the other androids that have been made. your fingers wander over the delicate hairs just below his navel, a soft, almost reverent touch, but then you withdraw your hand abruptly, as if you'd been shocked.

your gaze darts around your living room for a brief moment before it settles on a small envelope glued to the front of the box. in a swift motion, you lower yourself into a crouch, pressing your palm against the sturdy cardboard surface. with your other hand, you carefully peel the letter free, shaky hands, ripping it open, fumbling to get the note out of the envelope before your eyes roam over its contents.

exciting news: you've been selected as a beta user! dear [recipient's name], here at cyberbautic technologies, we’re thrilled to inform you that you have been chosen as a beta user for our latest innovation, the android robot known as "the guard dog." this advanced robot is designed to provide security and companionship in your home. you will have a full week to interact with the guard dog, testing its features and functionalities. we encourage you to explore all its capabilities, which include smart surveillance, voice interaction, personalized security settings and other functions. your feedback is invaluable to us, so please take note of your experiences, any challenges you encounter, and suggestions for improvement. best regards, [your name]

your lips part in a soft movement of disbelief, and your gaze darts back to the android confined within the box, his eyes closed in a serene slumber and framed by long, delicate blonde lashes. everything about him was so big, so masculine, and void of any gentle contours. broad shoulders taper down to a powerful torso, each muscle defined and pronounced and thick, muscular thighs, thick and sturdy.

your eyes travel down to his large hands with blunt fingernails, it reminds you of a life of labor, of toil and effort, as if he wasn't forged from metal and circuitry. each finger is thick and strong, capable of both delicate precision and overwhelming force. a sharp, prominent nose, slightly askew as if it has borne the brunt of countless battles. it was as if he was a greek god sculpted from marble.

letting the letter fall from your hands you walk forward and lean in close, eyes looking for the small power button nestled just beneath and behind his ear. with trembling fingers, slick with sweat, you press it, feeling a bead trickle down your temple. the sound of him powering on reverberates through the confines of your small apartment, and you carefully retreat a step back.

nothing.

no movement, unlike what you’d seen in countless galaxy network videos of android unboxings. your eyebrows twitch as you instinctively move to take a step forward, but then a voice echoes through the air—dark, deep, and tinged with a rough accent. it sent a warm wave of heat unfurling within your stomach, leaving you momentarily breathless. hand pressing to your heart to calm the fierce thumping.

“standby mode: off.”

a gentle hum emanates from his internal mechanisms and as if awakening from a deep slumber, his eyes slowly open, the brown irises glowing a pale blue, while streams of programming code flicker rapidly across their surface. you watch as his chest slowly starts to move, as if he is mimicking the act of breathing. and the moment you step closer, you can feel the heat rolling off his body in waves.

“performing quick self-diagnostic check.”

crouching, you retrieve the laser knife from the floor. you approach the android, your heart racing as you carefully slice through the straps binding his arms; descending back down to also cut the straps from his ankles; making sure to avoid looking anywhere below his waist. once the android is free from his bindings, you swiftly retreat a few paces, creating distance between you and the now-unrestrained figure.

“diagnostics complete.”

the gruff, deep, accented, and almost monotonous sound of his voice sends a chill racing down your spine, and the scent of pine and something akin to smoke invades your nose and lungs. then his brown eyes, so life-like and dark, are on yours, with an intensity that is hard to ignore. your eyes widen when he speaks, trying your hardest to keep your eyes on his face, “id code: #a36h920tr, you have been selected as a beta user for my model, ‘the guard dog,’ set to launch in the fall of next year. i am the only one of my kind and have been named, simon.”

what exactly have you signed up for?

your mouth gapes like a fish out of water, while your eyes blink in a startled manner, akin to an owl's gaze, as a tightness grips your throat, a constricting band that makes it feel as though you are being choked by an unseen force, “y-yes, my name is [your name].” you mutter, heart thudding so hard in your chest, it’s almost painful.

“your heart rate is above the normal range. initiatin’ a complete body scan for owner: [your name].”

hot. your flesh felt like it was peeling from your bones, dissolving into a pile of gore at your feet. you wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. he was an android, he wasn’t real, just a mere construct of metal and circuits, yet he appeared so convincingly lifelike, both in appearance and sound, that it was disorienting. you could almost convince yourself he was real, as real as the oppressive warmth surrounding you. with a sharp intake of breath, you cleared your throat and raised your hand, halting his scanning gaze. “no! i’m fine, it’s just…hot.” you mutter sheepishly.

simon’s gaze is an unwavering, dark pit, drawing you in with an intensity that felt almost otherworldly. as if he could ask you to do something and you would, without hesitation. the way he spoke, low and deep, growly and gruff, like distant thunder, set all of your nerves on fire and scorched your bones to the marrow.

the two of you are silent for a moment, and you catch a glimpse of the android's gaze flickering momentarily to your breasts and thighs, see the soft clenching of his large hands, yet, just as quickly, his eyes return to meet yours. your lips part and his eyes follow dutifully, taking in the softness of your mouth, the delicate curve of your lips, the gentle nervous breath that escapes, and the slight peek of your pink human tongue. you wonder what thoughts race through his mind, what algorithms are at play as he watches you. wonder if he's aware of the way your skin tingles under his gaze.

was it even possible to have sexual tension with a damn robot?

you practically jump out of your skin when he shifts, thick powerful legs, connecting to a tapered waist, emerging from the confines of the box. in response, you step back, wide eyes on his. then his whole body is out, and somehow he seems bigger than he was before– it's as if he takes up all the space in your small apartment. you can't help the breath of awe that escapes, or the way your eyes trail down his neck, past the swell of his adams apple, before settling on the impressive contours of his chest.

there's something akin to amusement that seems to swirl in his eyes when you find his gaze again, that and something…dark, in a way. just as you prepare to speak, a subtle flash of red flickers from just behind and beneath his ear.

“my power level ‘s low,” he informs you, and you respond with a nod, feeling somewhat foolish as you remain rooted to the spot. his eyes narrow, like a predator watching prey, prompting you to finally break the silence. you wipe your sweaty palms on the back of your pants. “right, sorry. uh, i have a charging pad, just, um–” you motion towards the corner of the living room where your android dog was stationed on a charging port.

simon’s head cranes to look where you point and he lets out a soft, deep grunt before his dark eyes find yours, and it steals your breath, and causes heat to blossom between the apex of your thighs. you shake your head, attempting to dispel the swirling thoughts, and cautiously maneuver around him, you can’t help but notice the way his gaze follows you, breath hitching when you hear him take in a soft inhale of your scent.

you quickly make your way to the charging pad and gently pick up willow, cradling her plush body to your chest and stepping out of the way. “you can charge now, simon.” you murmur, pivoting to meet his gaze. however, he's already bridged the gap, now merely a foot away. the artificial warmth radiating from him sends a wave of dizziness through you, mingling with the earthy scent of pine and smoke that clings to his frame. he’s a massive android, perhaps the biggest creation cybernautic technologies has made.

a small startled sound escapes your mouth and you instinctively shuffle away, your back pressing against the cool surface of the wall. he looks as if he’s going to eat you whole, ravage your body, and leave you as nothing more than a heap of overstimulated flesh. you swallow thickly and his intense gaze flits down to your throat. there's a stall in his mechanics, you notice the way a vivid purple light flickers from his power button and turn red before his dark eyes finally break away from yours, and he strides toward the charging pad, the 'muscles' in his jaw tightening.

“standby mode: on.”

with a trembling inhale, you observe his eyelids fluttering close, and his chest stopping its movement; almost as if he were no longer alive. the moment simon is charging, you exhale sharply, pressing a hand against your heart, holding willow close.

“i think i’m gonna pass out.”

SEPTEMBER 12TH, 3020 ⸺ ANDROMEXUS CITY, FELICITY PORT— PROXXY STREET | 4:09 AM.

you're not sure what the time is or why you woke up, but your lashes flutter, and the stark white ceiling comes into focus, the shadows of your room slowly receding. despite the warmth from your comforter, you can feel a brush of cool air over your collarbones. your eyes glide around your room, groggily taking in the dark chamber before landing on a massive, bulky figure looming at the foot of your bed.

a scream lodges its way in your throat, attempting to claw its way out, but before it can break free, a deep, gravelly voice cuts through the tension. “your heart rate is elevated, and your stress hormones are off the charts. you’re frightened,” he states, his tone almost indifferent. you swallow hard, the scream lodged deep within you, your heart racing and your skin flushing with heat. “what the hell are you doing in my room?” you murmur, sitting up slowly in bed.

“i am programmed to always be within a certain range of you, sweetheart.” he states gruffly, his voice, while panty-dropping, had a bit of sass to it. “this ‘s a setting that can’t be overridden.” simon finishes, and you can feel his eyes on you, roaming over the exposed skin of your body, it sends a delightful shiver down your spine.

sweetheart? did he just call you sweetheart? why were your nipples getting hard right now?

you swallow thickly, and stretch your hand to flick on the lamp beside your bed, the soft click seemingly loud in your ears and the warm light chasing away shadows. you feel the pressure of your teeth against the inside of your cheek as you steal a glance at him, he’s still only clad in his cnt boxers, all tight to his skin. quickly, you avert your eyes, focusing instead on his face, before you can get anywhere lower.

the two of you stare at one another, his gaze, deep and smoldering, as if he could see straight into your soul, felt like having sex with just a look. it felt like his hands were sliding tantalizingly along your skin, tracing every curve, while his lips and tongue roamed your breasts with a fervor that sent shivers down your spine. you could smell his scent, pine, and smoke, engulfing you, threatening to suffocate you. was it possible to get turned on by just staring at someone? you could almost feel the weight of his hands, the way they would explore, mapping out the contours of your form with a deftness that no human could match.

you shattered the stillness, your gaze lingering a moment longer before you gestured toward the bed, right at your feet. “you can sit here.” you say softly, breath hitching as he swiftly follows your ‘command’, his huge body moving with the grace of a feline, that belied his size as he stalks over to the bed, the mattress dipping heavily and your bed frame creaking and groaning in protest under his weight. the soft glow of the bedside lamp cast gentle shadows across his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze.

he’s close, way closer than you’d thought he’d be, so much so that his body heat seeped through the comforter and warmed your bones. you clear your throat and attempt to steel your frazzled nerves. “y-you feel…different, from the other androids cnt has made.” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper as you shifted beneath the sheets, rising onto your knees on the bed, the fabric rustling softly. you could feel his gaze on you, a steady presence that made your skin tingle. “…more real.” you hesitate, searching for the right words. “it feels like you're not just a collection of algorithms and circuits. you… you have a presence, a warmth that makes me forget you’re not human.”

“recent advancements have led to the development of new formulas that enhance androids with more human-like traits and emotions. we are now modeled after humans who are meticulously chosen through a rigorous selection process and subsequently analyzed across various disciplines to evaluate their characteristics.” simon replies smoothly, his gaze briefly dancing over the soft curves of the exposed plush of your thighs before they’re back on yours. had they not been basing androids off of humans this whole time? what does it mean to be human in a world where androids can evoke such genuine feelings? the warmth of his presence envelops you, and for a fleeting moment, you forget the boundaries that separate flesh from circuitry.

your breath snags in your throat, and heat engulfs the entirety of your body, your lips parting and your gaze stuck on his. he wasn’t flesh and blood; he was an android, a mere machine, yet the desire to reach out and touch him surged within you, stronger than anything you had ever felt, never wanted to be touched the way you wanted him to touch you, it felt almost primal. you blamed it on being a sex-deprived woman. there weren't many choices here in felicity port. in this city, where the neon lights flickered like distant stars and the hum of machinery drowned out the whispers of the heart, you had learned to navigate the loneliness that surrounded you.

"can i touch you?" your lips part, and the words tumble out before you can catch them. you notice the brief pause in his software, and see the vibrant purple glow that dances at his power button before it shifts to a deep crimson. you wonder what that meant, wonder if he's thinking about what type of touch you're talking about. you don't retract your words, hell you don't speak at all; just sit there with a bated breath, eyes flickering over his face.

"yes."

his reply is husky and deep, dark brown eyes glued to yours, and you feel a flutter of fear, afraid that if you look away, you'll wake up and realize that this is all a dream. that simon wasn't really here in your bedroom, clad in only tight boxer briefs, and eye fucking you. his eyes roam over the bare skin of your thighs, lingering as if memorizing every inch, every curve, and his large hand twitches, as if he’s fighting an internal battle, and there's a vivid flash of purple before it ignites red. the room feels smaller, the walls closing in as the space between you shrinks.

you shift your knee forward, inching closer, the fabric of your night dress gliding up to expose more of your skin, more and more until your knees rest against the warmth of his bare thigh. the eye contact makes your entire body thrum with burning heat, his eyes never veering from yours; his large hands pressed to the tops of his thick, muscular thighs. his body swamps yours entirely- and you were nowhere near small—despite your own size, you feel dwarfed by his sheer strength, and the sight sends a rush of heat pooling in your panties. you can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be enveloped in his embrace, to have those strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer still. have his tantalizing scent—warm, musky, and undeniably masculine— invading your senses.

simon watches as your human hand comes up to shakily brush against his skin, your fleshy lips parted to take in shallow breaths, your slender throat and face flushed with heat. he can see inside of you, see the thumping of your heart, the speed at which it increases, the surge of testosterone coursing through you. can smell the heat of your skin, the sweet scent of your body wash, his senses study it and he recognizes it as sugared lavender, milk, and honey. every detail becomes magnified—the way your eyelashes flutter, the slight quiver of your lips, the way your breath catches in your throat as you meet his gaze.

the subtle rise of your chest with each breath, the gentle flutter of your heartbeat, and the way your eyes sparkle with emotion—all of it pulls him deeper into a realm he has only observed from a distance. he can feel the real warmth of a human, not his synthetic core that heats his body, and it's starkly different, it overwhelms him for a fleeting instant, causing a momentary short circuit in his system. can see the difference between the soft rise and fall of your chest compared to his fake breathing, the delicate curve of your breasts--

this is what he was based on, a human. and he couldn't compare, not in the slightest. you were the blueprint. he felt himself utterly lacking. simon can't help but lean his cheek into your palm when you shakily press it to his face, feeling the delicate contours of your fingerprints against his skin, each ridge and curve imprinted itself in his mind, and commits this entire moment to memory.

your fingers brush and trail over the expanse of his face, tracing the contours of his forehead, the sturdy line of his chin, the defined angles of his jaw, and his cheekbones. finally, they linger on his lips, a delicate shell pink, inviting, and soft. he watches you, despite your gaze following the soft line of your fingers on his artificial skin, he watches you as if it’s the last thing he’ll be able to do.

out of the corner of your eye, a flicker of purple catches your attention before it ignites into a vivid red, his hands clenching when it happens, as if frustrated. curious, you trail your hand down his cheek and behind his ear, to where it flashes; before you can utter a word, his voice, deep and rough, fills the air. “can i touch you?”

your heart stops and skips all in the same breath and you nod, captivated as he turns his body toward you, his gaze never leaving yours. simon’s large hand rises to cradle your cheek, it’s a confident movement that sends a shiver down your spine, his thumb brushing over the true warmth of skin. his long, sturdy fingers then meander along the curve of your nose, tracing the delicate arch of your brows, and as his fingers glide around your eye, you can’t help but close them for a brief moment, surrendering to the sensation of his touch. his fingers finally rest on your lips, a gentle yet possessive gesture that sends a rush of warmth through your entire being.

he wonders what it would feel like to have them wrapped around his--

your lips are plush and fleshy, and he can’t help but drag your bottom lip down gently with his thumb, revealing the delicate curve of your gums and the soft pink of your tongue. simon releases your lip, his hand gliding down your slender neck, fingers pressed to the rapid thumping of your pulse before his fingers trace the delicate line of your collarbone.

“you’re nervous.” simon states gruffly, his voice rumbling with a hint of authority as he observes, fingers sliding down your neck, a warm, deliberate touch that glides to your side, where they press into the gentle curve of your waist, kneading the soft flesh of your abdomen with a firm yet tender grip. there's a weight to his tone, a certainty that makes you feel seen in a way that both comforts and unnerves you.

“you make me nervous,” you whisper, your breath hitching as your fingers fumble to clutch his shoulders, when his hand trails over the soft, covered underside of your ass, fingers dancing lower until they flit over the back of your bare thigh. the power button just beneath his ear pulses a soft purple, flickering repeatedly before it finally shifts to a deep red.

curious, you press your fingers softly to it, nails pressing gently into his skin. “what does that mean?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, your mind swirling with the intoxicating scent of him, at how close you are to him. a small voice in the back of your mind reminds you that this simon is merely an android, a fleeting creation destined to vanish in a week, not truly yours. but you wanted him all the same.

“the filters installed in my hardware are functioning properly.” simon says gruffly, his fingers brushing against your thigh with a restless energy. “if the thoughts that i have of you or the touches that i attempt t’express conflict with the filter; i’ll recalibrate.”

“w-what kind of thoughts?” you whisper, throat bobbing as you swallow the lump that’s formed. his jaw tightens, and his gaze locks onto yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “i’ve wanted my coc–.” simon’s power button flickers to life, glowing a deep purple before shifting to a fierce red. he’s silent for only a moment, then his jaw sets even harder. “the filters installed in my hardware are functioning properly.” simon restates and you nod loosely, briefly wondering if there was a way to turn it off that— no, what the hell were you thinking?

yet, before you can rein in your thoughts, your lips part, and the words tumble out in a rush, "is there a way to turn it off?"

a/n : ya'll...why is the smut killing me? like, i enjoyed writing the plot but then i get to the smut and i'm like...meh. is it cause that's all i post? maybe. anyways! i'll write the second part one of these days, but i wanted to post this cause i love it so much. (did i do some clickabit? absolutely)

[soldrawss]

HI YEAH DID YOU SEE @mykimouser DREW A HUMAN GIO AND IM COLLECTIVLY LOSING MY GODDAMN MIND ABOUT IT

Gio belongs to @goodlucktai (and you should go check them and their fics out)

[ruporas]

feast (ID in alt)

[mrghostrat]

it's chemical warfare, red lips and television eye wear raspberry soda hair, in the pool in a blow up gummy bear

it's only november and it feels like summer already. paintin crowleys to cope 💧 (speedpaint on patreon tomorrow!)

[emborami]

Hi so in case anyone was dying to know, this is what i think some of the cast of the terror would look like as animals :3 notes under cut

From left to right:

Crozier- Irish Terrier

Silna- Polar Bear

Goodsir- ryeland sheep (known for tasty mutton ;3)

Hickey- red fox

Franklin- old english game rooster

Fitzjames- red deer

I had fun coming up with them :) and I kinda wanna doodle some screencaps but with like a lil short sheep goodsir and his bestie the giant polar bear lady silence whom he thinks would love England. Or like hickey on his bullshit but with more flair bc he would have a fox body and tail to really fuck up that line of action

Anyways heres some closeups and sketches

[igotthis-egg]

Some of you were wondering what the tone of my Md vampire au is like. I think this little comic “sneak peek” sums it up rather well! At least for the drama side of the story (and boy this is NOT all there is to the drama. I don’t want to reveal anything, so this little teeny fragment is all you get for now!) This is SO out of context but I cannot reveal everything yet (first off, I’d have to draw the entire comic to do that, this absolutely just a test comic, obviously, since the pacing is super wack). I’m so excited to make the rest of the comic though, but script writing and character designs call first and foremost.

Also yes, it’s final now. N’s actual name is Newton, or Newt as everyone called him before he became a vampire. I personally really like the name.

[yeloenk]

height lineup of the human stars

stay tuned for the bad guys

[turtleblogatlast]

I really like how Donnie and Mikey having the shortest mask tails makes so much sense in regard to them being an inventor and an artist/cook respectively. If their mask tails were longer, it could be dangerous and/or get in the way of what they were trying to do.

Meanwhile Raph is large enough that his longer mask tails wouldn’t be easily used against him in fighting or sparring, plus the longer tails definitely make for a more standard hero/ninja look which would make him lean into it more.

Leo likes long mask tails because he can flip them.

[elalalune]

Character sheets + notes

Queen of Hearts/Red Queen 🍶

White Duchess ❤️‍🔥

Cheshire Cat 🦩

(Wonderland au)

[starry-bi-sky]

Love and hate can sometimes cross wires - DPXDC Ficlet

She props her up against the far wall, and kneels before her, fingers deceptively gentle against her cheek. Danyal is cold and trembling, her once bronze skin now dull. She meets her other half— self— sister— mother— predecessor’s eyes, and they are still wet. But now they are sharp, focused on Her face.

Danyal takes a shuddering breath, one that wracks itself down her spine. One that She can feel sinking into her — their? — shared soul. “You’re going to kill me.” She says, matter of fact, something like grief choking in her voice, making it shake.

She blinks at Her mother—sister—friend— predecessor, a feeling She knows is horror but thinks is hatred filling up Her lungs. Her cool palm trails kind down to her throat, Her talon fingers wrapping around the fragile skin. With very little effort, She could break her little neck. “Yes.” She murmurs, a sound only the two of them can hear. “I am.“

Her mother-sister-other half— predecessor shudders again, and yet makes no sound. Simply goes limp with acceptance in her arms. She doesn’t bother to even fight; she looks tired. Make it quick, it’s like she says.

I will. She promises, running the gentle padding of Her thumb along her jugular. It’s the only mercy She thinks She’ll ever give. But first…

“Give me a name?”

(Mother— sister— mine—) Danyal stares at Her, confusion parting her slowly paling lips. There’s silence between the two, thickening the air like the rise of an oncoming storm. Hurt and rage begins to toil beneath Her skin. Was the thought of naming Her so abhorrent, that she’d rather not say a thing at all? Her name is nothing?

Before She can take Her anger out, Danyal breathes in sharp. The sound is painful, jarring like jags of broken glass. She raises a hand, her palm — rough and calloused, proof of her fourteen years of life, of hardship — finds Her cheek too. It’s almost loving, the way Danyal swipes her thumb across Her skin, her clammy fingers tucking a strand of hair behind Her ear.

An emotion sweeps across her, boiling and toiling, burning hot and consuming her whole. Thick, bubbling in her throat, curling behind her teeth and under her tongue and tinging her peripherals with spots. An overwhelming emotion.

It must be hatred, she thinks. What other feeling can encompass one so much?

When Danyal breathes out, so with it comes a name; “Layal.”

Danyal always did love the nights.

(If you ask the Mother of Monsters why she killed Danyal al Ghul, she’ll tell you it was because she loved hated her.)

[bunnieswithknives]

The sillies!! Might gonna change Demon Laios' design later and I still need a name for whatever this AU is

[aziraphales-library]

Hello there, thank you for all the work you do! I was wondering if you had any recommendations from smaller, less well-known creators? Like fics under 100 kudos or 1000 hits that you think deserve more love and attention! Thank you!

Hi! I did a similar post previously here, so check that out. I went back to my bookmarks again. These are all fics I've enjoyed that have around or less than 100 kudos/1000 hits (at time of compiling)...

Words not written by Ambra_Sue (G)

Aziraphale has a secret, something he has kept as close to his heart as possible for 6000 years. Something kept as close as the pages of a book pressed together, a piece of paper slipped inside a treasured tome, words left carefully blank in a notebook for that express purpose. What happens when Adam restores the world? Are some imprints of feelings powerful enough to be shaped into reality?

No Tartan Required by jars (G)

“You could do, you know,” Aziraphale says, soft-spoken and apropos of absolutely nothing. They’ve been sitting in the backroom of the shop for hours now in companionable silence, punctuated only by the rustle of old paper as Aziraphale turns the page of what must be his third or fourth novel of the afternoon. “Could do what, angel?” Crowley drawls easily from where he’s sprawled across the sofa. He doesn’t bother sparing a glance in Aziraphale’s direction, but he can feel the angel’s eyes on him from across the table all the same. “Look like you run a bookshop.” Or: nearly a week after the apocalypse that wasn’t, Aziraphale makes a rather surprising suggestion that leads Crowley to question first his sense of style, and then his place in the world.

Confused Serpent by Eigon (T)

Crowley has lost his memory, and he wakes up with an angel in the room.... Crowley also swears a lot.

Classic First Date by WittyWallflower (G)

Allergies are terribly inconvenient. Aziraphale would rather not spend his first date with Crowley sneezing unattractively, but taking a strong anti-histamine beforehand was perhaps not the wisest decision.

Paint a rainbow all around him by imaginary_glu (G)

Aziraphale takes up streaming. Crowley becomes "Mr. Teapot". They also really, really love each other, but that isn't new.

But you had to come along, didn't you? by Solimette (T)

At the corporate Christmas party of his new job as an editor, Aziraphale makes the acquaintance of the dashing Crowley from Marketing. Anathema, a mutual friend is convinced that there's something between the two men, but Aziraphale is a little hesitant. Time shows though, that even crappy Christmas parties can be the source of joy and euphoria, when being seen as who you are.

Percy by Jackie Thomas (NR)

A hundred years later, Adam Young has passed away and Crowley is still trying to save the planet. “Where do you think Adam’s gone?” Crowley asks Aziraphale. “I’ve been wondering.”

A Kaleidoscope of Butterflies by Inherently_human (T)

As part of his exposure therapy for his anxiety, Aziraphale is collecting positive experiences to teach his brain that things often turn out better than expected. He visits the local botanical gardens and soon finds himself enchanted not only by the gorgeous flora and fauna but also by the rather charming volunteer who seems more than eager to share his endless knowledge with Aziraphale. It doesn’t take very long for all sorts of things to start fluttering about, and it’s not just the butterflies in the glasshouse that are the source of this unexpected sensation.

- Mod D

[octaviusing]

Can I interest you in my vast collection of rotten slut?

[spacebubblehomebase]

I'm sorry if you've said in a previous post about the Stargazers Au, but is it going to be entirely in comic form or is some of it going to be fanfic?

Also your art is delightfully soft and the character interactions so far are very fun.

I haven't gotten this question before! =0 But to answer, while not every part of my AU's lore would be presented in comic form, I plan for ALL of it to have some type of art at least! Even if it's not a comic. (In fact, the next part coming up would be exactly that!)

While I have written fanfics before, I tend to get stuck in my own head when I write and I get too deep and philosophical. Which is the exact opposite mood that comes out from my drawings. Usually lighthearted and made for simple fun! So I prefer to stick to my favorite medium and draw as much of this story as I can! ^v^ And thank you! The soft giddy fluff is everything I wanna convey in my art so I'm glad it pulls through! =D Please look forward for more! -Bubbly💙 Like... ⤵️

BONUS Charlie & Alastor interaction I never added to the 1st part because it wasn't all that interesting or important story wise. Just a glimpse of their fun dynamic and a hint of Alastor's new palate. Which will be addressed later, but as for the odd green doodles, don't worry. They're not Voodoo. In my AU, Alastor creates radio station symbols instead! =D If it's not obvious, Charlie didn't see him do all his creepy magic from behind her either! 😅

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Short Prompt #1377

“Boss! Boss!” a grunt rushed into the room, throwing open the doors.

The Don’s inhuman eyes filled with anger at the sudden interruption. “This better be—”

“It’s Rival! He has your wife!”

Oh.

Oh.

Hell had no fury like the Don in that moment. His claws dug deep gauges in the wood of his desk as fire burst to life across his entire body, threatening to burn the entire building to the ground.

This would be the greatest and last mistake Rival would ever make.

[solargeist]

The Watchers in my AU are meant to be complicated and confusing. It’s part of why Grian stays for so long, why he’s so conflicted and why it bothers him to the point of venting to Mumbo.

They can be very kind, they do love him, they compliment him on everything. He gets gifts and everything given to him.

But on the other hand, bc they love him, they can be critical, telling him why that and why this, not that not this, they have pretty high standards for Beings that have seen everything already, not easy to genuinely impress.

They give him food, as parental figures should, anything he asks, but that’s sorta the problem, he always has to ask, there’s no way around this, no independence. He can ask for ingredients to cook by himself, but they’ll watch him.

He’s given clothes to wear, always within Watcher standard, dark and loose garments, open for his wings. He’d honestly prefer brighter colours, but that’s not rly a choice.

They tell him he’s special, he was chosen, better than the rest, a champion, a hero, and while it pets his ego, he feels pressure, they went out on a limp for him and he still can’t do enough. There is so much guilt.

Being here in the end messes with his psyche a bit, he’s much shorter than everyone, he has to rely on everyone, they all treat him like a kid, petting his hair or moving him via his shoulders instead of asking. He accidentally leans into this sometimes as a subconscious coping mechanism, he cries easier than he thinks he should. Tantrums where he has to press his face into his hands, or grumble and stomp off. He always has to apologize.

Despite being treated like a child, he is a Watcher child, so he studies a lot, he trains a lot. If he throws up from training, that’s no excuse (well by Flora’s standards)

He does feel a sort of comfort or safety around Aether, She’s lenient with him, but they’re definitely still not equals. She still hides things from him She thinks is too serious, She’s still overtly positive. He thinks abt Her sometimes, in hindsight he knows it was a family dynamic, and he feels guilt abt this too.

The Watchers love him, but they are ultimately overbearing, overwhelming, and frankly quite scary if you don’t play by their rules. Grian has reason to be cautious, the silent threats that hang over his head, never directly said to him, but traitors are cast out, if you’re not worthy you don’t deserve these gifts of wings or eyes. I think he’s convinced if they ever find him they’ll rip his eyes out with talons.

He won’t admit that he likes the attention sometimes, when his efforts are acknowledged and/or praised, when his hair is brushed. He wants their approval.

However, this is the only ‘human’ contact he gets. He doesn’t have anyone else, so it’s taken with a grain of salt how genuine his feelings are abt the attention.