#size allergy au

[fjsjjgnnfjdjf]

In the end, I finished the doodle I posted a few days ago 🐢✨

To be more precise, it happens in chapter 1 of Size Allergy

[bunny-jpeg]

bunny heat

simon "ghost" riley

tags: smut/pwp, hybrid au, bunny!simon, wolf!reader, size difference/kink, breeding kink, mating press, dirty talk, mentions of pregnancy & babies

a/n: i am rekindling my affection for call of duty fan fiction by making self indulgent nonsense - enjoy

the common assumption was that bunny hybrids were small and fragile. with blunt teeth and long bunny ears. they were meant to be dressed up and adored. they were sweet little things, harmless. prey.

the other assumption was that wolf hybrids were large and imposing. if folklore were correct, they were near feral with large teeth and pointed ears. the possessed great physical power and could overtake anything that got in their way. predator.

your wolf-like ears twitched as you tried to grab the box of cereal off the shelf. you tried to get up on your tippy toes to reach the top shelf. but to no avail you could get it. you huffed with your hands at your hips and turned to your mate, almost a foot taller that you. you said sweetly, "bun-bun, can you get that for me?"

the imposing blond with the rabbit ears and medical mask on, turned away from the other shelf to help you. one large hand on your hip while he easily plucked the box from the shelf and handed it to you, "glad ya didn't scale the shelves like last time." and he reached to you to rub the top of your head lovingly.

common assumption were rarely right.

your eye glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. you finished buttering the toast and then slid the two fried eggs on the plate. already on it was some vegetarian bacon and sausage. with everything on the plate, you headed towards the attic to find simon.

the worst part about spring wasn't snow that melted to slush or the allergies. it was simon's breeding season. poor guy, while he was in the military he was given shots to keep it at bay. but once he retired it felt like it hit two-fold after years of suppression.

"simon." you cooed as you went up the stairs. the smell was overwhelming when you got into the attic. it smelt like heavy bonfire except without all the smoke. regardless you still squinted as if there was smoke in your eyes. you brought the food to him and found him laid out in his nest.

he was in a white tank top and loose boxers. his blond hair a mess and he was sweaty, but at the very least, his breathing was heavy. poor thing had a one track mind right now. to fuck.

and while for more bunny hybrids that meant accepting whatever cock they could get. simon wanted to fill someone up with his hot cum and let his bunnies grow inside another hybrid. you got down to your lover's nest and gave him the plate.

"eat, my love. c'mon, you need the energy." you cooed as you cupped his sweaty face. you watched simon sit up against the pile of pillows. you cooed at him softly as he ate a little bit.

except he used very little of the fork and knife you gave him. using his hands and licking his hands free of butter, grease and egg yolks. you kissed his face softly as your feverish simon ate greedily.

"amazin'." he purred, "taste good. my good made." he loudly ate and leaned in for a messy kiss that got breakfast on your face before he went back to eating. he said, "get your clothes off, need the proper scent in the nest."

you slowly got undressed while he finished eating. he licked his fingers before he got he strong arm around you. his cottontail wiggled as he rubbed himself up against you. he stuck his nose in your hair and heavily exhaled.

"feel good." he said. simon was probably the largest bunny hybrid you've ever seen. man stood close to 6'5, he was a military man covered in scars and tattoos. he was scary even with those perked blond bunny ears and white cottontail. he leaned in and gave you a sloppy kiss.

his tongue was quickly in your mouth and you moaned. you clutched onto him and he groaned as you sharp nails dug into his shoulders. when he pulled away his tongue was out, panting. his cock strained his sweaty boxers and he needed you. he needed that release.

you were naked. known as a predator animal, you were under him without a single stitch on you. all curves for him. he got his hard cock out of his briefs and there was a feral look in his eye. you swallowed and said, "simon."

he gave you a wide grin, "like what ya see, my little wolf? i bet you were thinkin' about while you were cookin' for me." he licked his lips, even bunnies desired flesh, "could smell ya under all that cookin'. kept strokin' myself, knowin' you were playin' wife for me."

you swallowed and shifted a little, "fuck, simon... take me." and your eyes went wide when simon used his strength to hike your knees to your ears and expose your pussy to him. he sank into you quickly and you let out a small gasp as you became accustomed to his length.

he probably had the biggest cock you've ever seen.

he planted his hands on either side of your head and moved against you. his cock nudged against all the right places. it wasn't even like he was going particularly fast. he may be a fast little rabbit, but he wanted to consume you. he wanted to feel all of you, every inch of you.

you were his mate, bonded till the end. your souls were intertwined together if you wanted to understand it in a metaphysical way. the wolf and the bunny, except the bunny was the scary one and the wolf was the more harmless one. you weren't a push over, but you weren't the imposing one in the relationship. not that you minded, you enjoyed how protective simon could be.

he laid wet kisses on you as you laid in his nest. his protected space with all the items a bunny hybrid like him could need. that included his mate. he fucked you into the covers, the soft quilts and even the throw pillows from the couch. it was a safe place for him to have you all to himself. and you happily let have you, all of you.

you wrapped your arms around him and the two of you moved together. there was something so tender between the two of you, even if there was an under current of intense sexual want. a neediness that your simon had for you as he rutted against you. he was only thinking with his cock, but he still had enough restraint to not harm you.

he'd never harm you.

"gonna breed ya. gonna give you some bunnies to take care of." he purred, "ya'd love that, wouldn't ya, love. carryin' my little bunnies around in your perfect womb." he licked his lips. he felt more predator than his animal traits led on. he was hungry the way a wolf was, not a rabbit.

"wanna give me babies?"

"ya, all of 'em. keep ya locked away all of my heat so i can ruin that pussy of yours and give ya a bunch of bunnies to be a good mama too. maybe we'll end up with a few wolf pups, but i wanna see ya haulin' around my babes like a good den mother." his thrusts grew in strength. his words were coated in a heavy lust.

"fuck." you exhaled deeply. his words were erotic.

"you feel amazing, my mate." he purred, "you feel so good around me. this fucking pussy is amazing, only thing i want during this time. how could i not want you? you're my mate, we're bonded and i love you more than words can describe. ya know that, right, my little wolf." he continued to move against you. he could feel the pleasure in his body, he could feel the leap of want in his core.

"please, simon. holy fuck." you shakily exhaled as you held onto his strong shoulders tighter. your loving bunny mate, he looked lovely on top. those dark features that scared most, but lured you in. he was by every definition the worst bunny hybrid, but you loved it. everything from the resting scowl on his face, to the scarring, to those soft bunny ears and how he could easily wrap you up in his arms.

he was the ideal partner for you.

you kissed once more. your knees knocked against your cheeks as he pressed further into you. the kisses were hungry as you knew you both weren't going to last much longer. the pleasure left you out of breath and a slight fuzziness in your head. you held on tightly for support as he worked your body against his. he wanted to make love to you, he yearned for you deeply. there was something so carnal about your love making that it left a flutter of lust in your gut as your mate fucked you.

"all mine." he purred as he held onto the covers a little tightly. he pressed himself as far as he could go, he wanted to make sure you felt every inch of his hefty cock. you whined in response.

you two shared one more heated kiss, you whined your love for him against his lips as he continued to thrust. a few more heavy thrusts and he finished inside of you. he shoved his entire length into you and made sure that his cum hit right against your cervix. it would be the only thing that would sate the sexual desire in his body. to breed his loving mate.

you exhaled shakily as he came inside of you. you panted heavily and felt the euphoria through you as he continued to thrust inside of you. he continued his movements. he wanted to make you feel good to as his still hard cock pushed his cum as deep as it would go. but he couldn't help himself, he came a second time very quickly. only to slip his cum all the way to the back of your pussy.

he felt lucid and now worked solely on hormones. you whined and your eyes fluttered as you felt the wanted in your heated core. you whined as you felt the stimulation in your body from your mate push you over the sexual edge. you let out such a beautiful moan and came around his cock.

"good, good." he mused, "fuck, that's it, my little wolf." he said, the edge had been taken off and he could relax. he pulled out and flopped down next to you on the mattress. you reeked of his aroused scent and before you could drop your legs down to the bed. he had you curled up in his arms.

his lips on your neck as he said sweet nothings to you. promises of pups and bunnies and being forever mates.

-

you didn't have your heat that spring, all it took was a weekend of simon's cycle to impregnate you. now it was summer and you were cuddled up with your much larger mate. his hand on your swollen middle as you got comfortable next to him.

you were carrying two babies; two pups, two bunnies, who knew. wouldn't know until they were born by fall. your swell was impressive and your dear simon loved it.

it wasn't common for a wolf to be impregnated by a bunny, but you had to admit. the pregnancy looked better on you anyway, and simon would agree as he contorted himself to kiss your swollen middle.

[loveanddeepdick]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 obsessed!gojo x f!reader

cw and notes: sorry if this is short and weird im sick writing this lol, posessiveness, size kink, stalking, toxic behavior, implied on and off relationship, reader is a bit naive, crazy ooc kinda gojo, religous imagery AGAIN bc i love using angels for satoru and devils for sugu, no curse au just regular ol citizens, not proof read

obsessed!gojo who'd never admit how much you affected him. the way your eyes peaked out from under your lashes when you glanced up to meet his, the way you'd get so excited when he bought you something no matter what it was, the way you held his large hand in your small one. he'd scoff, hiding his face from you so you wouldn't see how his breath was caught in his throat or how his cheeks were lightly dusted pink.

he recently bought you a small necklace with an s on it, standing for satoru. you swept any hair that was in the way to the side as he gently clipped it on. turning around, you giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, thanking him.

"i know you the best, don't i?" he chuckled, his hand traveling up to your head to dip it into his shirt, turning away so you wouldn't see his face.

"what's wrong, toru?", you curiously lifted your head, tilting it to catch his face.

"sorry, got allergies, darlin". what a liar.

obsessed!gojo who knew you for years, although he was your senior in high school, he noticed you the moment you passed by in the hallway. the way you were laughing with your classmate, not even glancing at him. it was like the stars had perfectly aligned for him to meet you. your white haired savior. he couldn't say anything, the conversation he was having with geto drifting into a void as he kept his eyes glued to your figure walking away.

he had to have you. whether it was in that moment or in 10 years. he did his best to get your attention, gather information about you from shoko and some of the mutual friends you shared with him. finally, finally, in college he had you.

there were definitely guys that he had to get rid of on the way there, but it was all worth it! he'd never kill anyone, never, but he'd drive them out of town, dig up any information about the guy or his family, just to have you alone.

obsessed!gojo who tweaks out the moment he hears someone has a crush on you at your workplace, your 'friend'. you had mentioned it in passing when talking about your day and he nearly snapped on the spot. gojo no longer liked being associated with his family, no, but the thing he never dropped from them was his inheritance. he was wise with his money, investing it and using a private bank, but fuck did he love spending money on anything related to you.

he hired an investigator on the guy, draining every bit of information that he had. the moment they found out he was involved in an illegal supply chain of money, gojo nearly laughed. i mean, it only took a week and he didn't have to lift a finger. he delivers a nice lunch to you on your break, along with flowers and he hates to admit it, but he nearly cums in his pants from your voice message.

"thank you, toru! how'd you know i forgot to pack lunch this morning? you spoil me too much, i'm gonna eat now, thanks again, i love you!" your voice echoed in his living room as he played the message over and over again, the hand holding his phone shaking from your praise. he loved the way your voice drew out the syllables of his name, the way you thanked him.

when you came to visit him that night after work, you told about how the coworker got fired, how someone busted him for illegal activities. toru hummed and shrugged as he opened one of his arms, motioning for you to sit on his lap. who gave a shit about him, you were here, safe with him, that's what matters.

obsessed!gojo whos on his couch, manspreading as you sat so prettily on his lap. he's huge, his arms resting on the couch as he leans back, watching you yap on about how your day was. his hand comes down to your head as you talk about all the snacks you bought with your friends today, petting your hair with the back on his hand before twirling it around his long finger.

it's an odd gesture, but one you got used to. he'd pet you often, as if you were a little bunny, he laughed when you sniffled, pointing out how your nose subtly scrunched up. in bed when you two cuddled, he'd have you laying on his chest as he ran his fingers against your scalps, following the gaps in where you hair parted.

but yet, he'd never admit out loud how much he was in love with you.

obsessed!gojo who you rekindle with over and over again after every big fight somehow. you don't know if it's intentional, but he reels you in with his eyes. he's like an angel, the blue reflecting stars as they draw you in. his hair is soft, like whisps of silk and dandelions. whenever you cuddle with him, he has a distinct scent, not cologne, but like wind in a field of flowers. how a man has that scent, shit you'll never know.

he has you in his arms while he's apologizing over and over again, littering kisses on your forehead as he caresses-no, pets-the back of your head. he treats you like his property, his to spoil, his to always come home to, always his.

tag: @haruhatake

[ozzgin]

A collection of doodles, memes and comics featuring monsters!

Monsters

Reverse octopus hybrid

Chubby Monsters

Zzy [Character Design]

Circus Merman [Character Design]

Octopus Hybrid [Character Design]

Lion!Hybrid and Tiger!Hybrid [Character Design]

Loan Shark x Blåhaj

Loan Shark flex [Rent-A-Monster]

Interviewing Monsters [Vegetable Lamb Hybrid]

The creation of Sprout [Vegetable Lamb Hybrid]

Saint Nicholas Visit [Vegetable Lamb Hybrid]

Zzy Pole Dancing Animation

Hucow Husband

Queen of the Black Puddle Male Version

Demon Girl Doodle

Slime Girl Suggestive Doodle

Comics/Memes

Kraken First Mate x Dumbass Human Captain 1

Kraken First Mate x Dumbass Human Captain 2

Kraken First Mate x Dumbass Human Captain 3

Monster under your bed guide

Big monster, goofy Reader

Shy monster, dominant Reader

Free Ice Cream

Monstermania RAW

Monster Fucker Awards

Guess the monster fucker

Monster D-Print

Sea Slug Boyfriend

Zombie!Househusband

Nessie x Reader

Shark Facts [Shark Loan Shark]

Bath Time [Shapeshifter]

Cooked Food [Shapeshifter]

Surprise encounter [Monster under your bed]

Stuffed toy jealousy [Monster Harem]

Horny repellent [Zzy]

Sisterly Love [Zzy]

Teddy Bear horror [Asylum Spider]

Clown Nose [Vampire Clown]

Blowing the horn [Vampire Clown]

Work Pest [Ghost Harem]

Special Seat [Dragon Guardian]

Love Letters [Orc Secretary]

Size Difference [Delinquent Fairy]

Battle Challenge [Delinquent Fairy]

Cat Shenanigans [Yandere Cowboy]

Reader Inserts

How to hold your human guide

You're not the father! [Monster harem]

Sleepover [Monster harem]

Breeding Kink [Monster Harem]

Crowned Spouse Reader

Reader chilling in a monstrous mouth

Handholding your monster boyfriend

How to lewd a skeleton boyfriend

Tentacle parts at the workplace + Part 2

House monster encounter [House Monster]

Reader with poor eyesight [House Monster]

Caught in the act [House Monster]

Room Service Reader [Monster Hotel Meme]

Monster Birthday Cake [Monster Author]

Monster Picnic [Forest Entity]

Reader with allergies [Forest Entity]

Gangbang Milestone [Monster Streaming]

Mating Habits [Octopus Hybrid]

Holiday Headpats [Shark Loan Shark]

Kindergarten Sign-up [Devil]

Mean Dog Reader [Monster Marriage]

Daos holding you [Werewolf]

Daos holding you (Romanian Edition) [Werewolf]

Protecting the Asylum Spider

Smooching the Asylum Spider

Meeting the neighbors [Bull Hybrid]

Chameleon viewer [Monster Streaming]

Walking home [Rent-A-Monster]

Monster Tutor [Rent-A-Monster]

Monster Ride [Deer Hybrid]

Reverse AU [Delinquent!Fairy]

Kitchen Tomfoolery [Zzy]

Werewolf Christmas Visit

Centaur Bellyriding

Misc

Monster Fudger Genealogy Tree

Monster fucking would work for me because...

Bruised cervix

Adopt-a-Y/N

Monster!Reader

A monster fucker's thirst

Hucow Barista Husband [Cow Hybrid]

Trying on clothes [Monster Streaming]

[cloakedsparrow]

Alfred is Tim's Biological Grandfather AU

Bruce and Alfred had found it slightly odd that Jack and Janet Drake didn't ask any questions about Tim spending so much time at Wayne Manor. True, the Drakes could have questioned Tim and he simply could have not told them. However, the boy knew better than to keep it to himself if he'd made any excuses Bruce might need to know or if his parents were likely to make any complaints. Neither of the Drakes ever contacted Bruce or the Manor. They never requested to see or speak with any member of the family.

While they were making the arrangements for Janet's funeral (because Jack was in a coma and Tim was just a child), Bruce received a summons from her lawyer, stating that she'd remembered her dear friend in her will. Bruce was immediately suspicious because he and Janet Drake hadn't been friends.

Bruce receives a letter, along with a small, locked box, about the size of a document mailer. The letter apologizes for the deception and requests that Bruce give the box to Alfred Pennyworth, stating that the combination was Tim's birthday. Out of respect for Alfred more than anything, Bruce follows the instructions.

After going through the box privately, Alfred appears more solemn than Bruce has seen him in decades. He tells Bruce that -years before- he'd slept with a upper-class woman when visiting his father, who had already been working for the Waynes. After coming to work for the Wayne's himself, Alfred had learned that the woman had gotten married not long after and had a child. A child that was just the right age to potentially be his. At his request, Thomas and Martha invited the woman and her husband to a party at the Manor. Alfred very professionally informed her that she had an important phone call and to please follow him to an appropriate guest phone. Once they were in a private room, Alfred calmly informed her that he was going to require proof that the child was not his. He would be happy to take a paternity test himself, or she could take one for her husband that proved he was father. Whether she told her husband or did it behind his back, Alfred didn't care. He had no intention of causing a scene but he fully intended to be there for his child if he had one. The woman had agreed and discreetly had a paternity test done that had proven her daughter was her husband's child.

Alfred had thought that was the end of it. However, Janet Drake had left him a letter informing him that she had been that child. More importantly, she had informed him that the paternity test had been forged to keep him out of the picture since her mother had found a better prospect in her husband. After her parents died (she'd been an adult), Janet had found the results and a letter from her deceased maternal grandmother (who helped with the forgery) explaining the matter. She hadn't been sure how to feel or what to do about it. She'd ended up just ignoring it.

She had been concerned when Tim suddenly started spending time at Wayne Manor, but when she asked Tim about it, after talking about how nice Mr Wayne was and how cool Dick was and learning to play tennis and getting help with his gymnastics et all, he'd started talking about Alfred. He kept talking about how amazing he was. How kind he was. How funny he was. How clever he was.

Even though Tim hadn't known about the blood they shared, he'd clearly loved Alfred. Janet couldn't take his grandfather from him. That was why she let him spend so much time at Wayne Manor. That was why she never demanded to speak to Bruce. As far as she was concerned, it wasn't really about him. It was about family.

She also let Alfred know that she'd always been the primary caregiver for Tim. She'd always made the decisions in regards to him. She selected his nannies, babysitters, and boarding school. She saw to his medical appointments and made sure anyone preparing meals for Tim knew about his allergy (I always headcanon hazelnuts for some reason). She signed him up for gymnastics and martial arts. She made sure he got to and from Summer camp.

She knew Jack wouldn't know how to be a parent and requested that Alfred help out as much as he was comfortable with.

She also apologized for not telling Alfred the truth until it was too late for her to get to know him herself. She told him that the more Tim talked about him, the more she considered telling them both the truth. That she'd truly wanted to know him but just kept putting it off. If he was reading the letter, then she’d obviously waited too long.

Bruce and Alfred double check Alfred's blood against Tim's in the Cave before Alfred tells the boy he's his grandson. With Tim's permission, he discreetly has a proper blood test ran and uses the results to quietly assume custody of his grandson while Jack is in a coma.

When Jack wakes up and Alfred learns that he's both made arrangements for Tim to get an early junior's license to drive him around and also to work at Drake Industries for him, he doesn't just complain. He sees Jack privately and informs him that HE has had custody of Tim, not Bruce, as the city has assumed. He informs him of their relation. He informs him that he made a good deal of money both in the service of Her Royal Majesty and the Waynes and he invested that money wisely. In fact, he currently has more money than Jack. He informs Jack that unless he wants them to take it to a judge, Tim will not be acting as a caregiver, chauffeur, or executive assistant to Jack. If the man cannot afford to hire appropriate help, then Alfred will happy to pay for it, discreetly, of course.

Jack takes the latter option. He and Tim still move into the Manor next door, so that Tim can easily & quickly go to Alfred if he needs anything. While he's reluctant to say it aloud and almost petulant about it at times, Jack actually appreciates Alfred's help with Tim. He doesn't pay as much attention to the boy, but Tim ends up better taken care of anyway.

Alfred attends the Young Justice parent-Red Tornado conference alongside Dick (he asked Dick to still come as he’d understand the needs of a group of young heroes better than anyone else present). Unlike the others, he always stays on top of what the kids are getting up to. He refuses to participate in the sixteenth birthday trauma, which Tim figures out quicker since Bruce is working on his own (and he has someone to turn to afterwards -Alfred and Bruce have WORDS). He also holds people who hurt him accountable (it's harder with Bruce, who he sees as a son, but he does not mince words with Jack, Stephanie, or anyone else). He adored Dana and they had tea together once every fortnight just to ensure they were on the same page with Tim. He steps in and treats Tim much more fairly after Damian enters the picture. He goes full John Wick on Ra's after the man goes after his grandson.

He's still a grandfather to the others, but having custody of Tim (and a letter from his daughter asking him to care for the boy) gives him a sense of authority that he lacks with them. With the rest of the Waynes, he tries to stay somewhat professional, despite his feelings for them. He doesn't feel the need to do so with Tim because he's not the valet who also helped raise him. He's his grandfather, first and foremost.

[d1onysusw1n3]

Dirty Grimes - rick grimes x reader

Tw: slight age gap (reader is 22 and rick is in his 40s) Cheating, P in V, slight bondage, rick is kind of rough. And a slight size kink. Plus squirting and creampie.

This is an AU where the apocalypse has never happened! Carl is a collage student who was a childhood friend. Lots of plot but I will give a warning on where the smut starts so if u want to skip the plot and head straight to the spice, do as u please!

“C’mon baby it’s not that bad, stop worrying about shit.” Carl huffs shaking his head in a annoyed way.

Look I love him to death Don’t get me wrong, but I dread coming over to his parents house over the holidays. My father ran out on my family when I was little, my mom was diabetic and she always had hospital bills up to her neck. So I was a bit of a problem child, until high school came and I worked my ass off for a full ride scholarship to Stanford. I’ve known Carl since middle school he always had a crush on me but I’d shoot him down and tell him when we get older we’d get married. Well I guess that wish came true.

I look down at the huge diamond on my finger. Me, Y/N summers, becoming a grimes? Who would’ve thought it. When I said yes it felt like the world stopped, but as time went on Carl got distant, stressed. He seemed easily annoyed by me. Plus that fact that I can’t help but to be scared of his father. Sherif grimes. He caught me vandalizing a classroom with spray paint once in middle school. He scared me shitless, but Carl stood up for me and helped my mom bail me out. Safe to say whenever I come over Rick always seems so, intense. The way he carries himself as if I’m a rabbit and he’s waiting to pounce on his prey. It scares me shitless, to be frank! And his marriage hasn’t been doing to good, last time I came over Lori and him wouldn’t talk or extange glances, no his eyes were too busy studying me, picking me apart as if he’s trying to read me like a book.

“Just calm down, you’re overreacting like usual.” Carl says as he brings the car to a stop, placing it in park. I scoff shaking my head at his antics.

“Overreacting? That’s what you want to tell your fucking fiancé before she tells her future in laws that she’s getting married to their son?” I scoff.

“I’m done arguing with you.” he sighs running a hand through his long hair. “It’s only arguing because you can’t have a normal conversation without acting like you hate me!” I scream frustration enveloping my body. “I should’ve never asked you to marry me then, my sincerest apologies.” He coldly says while walking out the car to the front door without me. I sit back contemplating what he just said. It broke my heart. I catch up to him wiping the tears that escaped my face, my eyes puffy and nose red, but I guess I can chalk it off as the allergies during spring break. He knocks and to my surprise Lori opens the door, yet I could see the clunky mascara and the bloodshot puffy eyes. She had been crying.

“Hiii! Oh my baby’s back” she smiles widely a genuine smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes like usual, and that glow that had once been her flame, has been burnt out into ash. It’s apparent on her hunched shoulders and the way she frowns when nobody looks.

“And look at you Y/N! All grown up and in collage.” She smiles and hugs me tightly. I always loved Lori, she was sweet to me, because she knew I grew up less fortunate than others.

“Hi lor how you doing?” I smile as I embrace her into a tight hug. I could feel her hiccup and take deep breaths.

“I’m living, at least I can be grateful for that.” She smiles tightly as she sees rick walk down the stairs to us.

“Hey, you wanna talk later?” I ask nudging her. She just nods and puts her fake smile back on as rick walks right past her and to Carl.

“Hey! My boys back.” He hugs Carl tightly while leaning back gripping his shoulders. “Man your old now! what’re you like fifty?” Rick teases as Carl rolls his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “Tha’d make you what? About seventy?” Carl quipped back and rick holds his hand to his heart. “Touché.” Rick smirks as he looks over to me. Instead of his usual crossed arms and tough guy demeanor, he was cuddly today because he wrapped his arms around my waist pulling me in for a generous hug. “How’s my daughter in law huh!” He jokes.

“Doing just fine.” I smile lightly at him. Though in the inside my heart was crushed into a million pieces.

“Well common in dinners ready just in time!” Lori beams walking away, she turns around first motioning to the kicthen. “You wanna help me prepare food Y/N?” She says. I just nod giving Carl a look, he doesn’t even turn to me and ignored my presence, though rick noticed because he turned to me.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“Peachy.” I reply glaring at Carl while turning and storming off to the kitchen.

As soon as i step in I see Lori breaking down sobbing while holding her mouth to quiet her crying.

“Hey what’s wrong?” I walk up rubbing her shoulder.

“I have been having an affair with ricks partner Shane and he found out about it.” She comes clean.

“And I’m-“ she purses her lips.

“I’m pregnant with his child.” She says sobbing as her shoulders shook.

“It wasn’t supposed to get this bad! I mean rick and I were on a break and it was one time that turned into more times then rick and I got back together and I told him no, but we still went at it anyways a-and I took a pregnancy test and Rick found it.” She spits out fast in her shaky voice.

“I’m so stupid.” She sighs.

“I agree with you on that. There’s so many different ways you could’ve handled this Lori, if you weren’t happy with Rick why didn’t you just tell him?” I frowned at her.

“What about Carl.” She gasps.

“You’re just gonna have to explain things to him, he’ll understand in time.” I say hugging her. We break off setting up the food in the table while calling the boys in to eat. The rest of the night went pretty smooth, everyone laughed a had a good time, well then there was rick, whenever I’d send a nasty look to Carl he’d tune in looking at me with those intense eyes.

“Alright I have something to announce!” I smile as fake as I could. “Carl asked to marry me.” I hold up my hand showing my ring. Out of the side of my vision I could see rick clench his jaw. But Lori gasped while clapping in excitement.

“Oh my baby’s all grown up!” She starts tearing up.

“I’m so happy for you son.” Ricks rasps. Though he looked furious. Cark just tightly smiles wrapping an arm around my waist.

As night fell me and Carl crashed in his childhood room. His walls were filled with comics and superhero’s. I change into my sleep clothes which were some panties and one of carls shirts, I didn’t bother putting on pants, it was way to hot in the summer time. Carl was dead asleep snoring an all, I had a hot flash and was sweating balls. I sigh getting up to walk downstairs and drink a cold glass of water. as I reach the cabinet in the kicthen I stand on my tippy toes trying to reach the last glass on the tallest shelf. I felt a warm calloused hand grip my waist pushing himself against my rear. I could tell it was rick, by his bulky hands and his white tee that was scented of pine and whisky. A man’s scent. Usually it would ick me out, overly manly men, but something about rick made my thighs clench and my tummy flip. I shake my head trying to ban these criminal thoughts of my fiancés father. I call his wife mom so gods sake, pull it together Y/N.

“I saw you strugllin, thought you might need some help.” His raspy voice sounded as sexy as usual, with his thick southern accent.

“Thank you Rick.”

“No problem, sweetheart.” He smirks down at me. He had me slightly caged to the counter, with my ass pressed right against his crotch. I could feel his cold belt buckle pressed tightly to my tramp stamp I got when I was 17. Apparently my shirt rode up my waist when I was struggling to reach for a cup, cause I could feel the cold ac on my bare back. I slightly moved away pulling down my shirt while walking to the fridge grabbing ice and water. I sit down on the island in the kitchen as rick pours himself a glass of whisky while leaning on the counter across from me.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He gruffly says handing me the shot of whisky he poured. I gingerly take it from his hand as my fingers brush his, it sent goosebumps down my spine.

“It was too hot upstairs, I needed some air.” I say with a tight lipped grin. I shot back the whisky quickly sliding the glass back to him, he fills up the whisky glass again but this time he take it down with no struggle, licking the corner of his mouth as some dripped down his chin. I could feel myself clench around nothing. That had to be the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed.

“Lori told you bout Shane, huh?” He chuckles shaking his head. I could see the tears brim his eyes. I couldn’t help but to feel bad for the man. His wife is pregnant by the man he called his brother.

“Yeah.” My throat suddenly felt dry.

“I’m sorry Rick.” I say chewing the bottom of my lip.

“Don’t be sweetheart, iss alright.” He huffs.

“We were arguing before that as it is anyway, it was bound to happen.” He shakes his head. While he looks down he nods over to your ring.

“So engaged huh? Carl better be treatin you well.” He swallows thickly as his intense blue eyes scan over my body. I felt like a peace of meat.

“He treats me just fine.” I clear my throat.

“Does he though?” Rick quips back. My jaw slacks in shock, not knowing what to say.

“I say you arguing in the car from the window. Seemed like whatever he said hurt?” He presses on.

“He said he wished he never asked to marry me.” I swallow thickly and slightly chuckle as tears run down my cheeks.

“Maybe I’m sensitive, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt like hell.” My wobbly lips smile at him. I look down as tears run down my cheeks. Rick slowly stalks towards me, running his calloused thumb across my cheek collecting my tears.

“What a shame. If you were mine, I would treat you better sweetheart.” He whispers.

At first I couldn’t believe his words. If I were his?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!SMUT STARTS NEOOOW >-<!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“What do you mean rick?” I whisper back. I could feel the tension between us, so thick it was hard to breathe.

“What I said sweetheart. I could treat you better.” He slowly trails his hands up my thighs in a soothing back and fourth motion.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He whispers trailing his hands up my shirt gripping my breasts firmly as his thumb nudges the bud of my breasts massaging them slowly.

I gasp leaning into his touch while rubbing my thighs together for friction. It’s been awhile since Carl had touched me. I was horny and deprived.

“Y/N tell me to stop, and that this is wrong.” He groans out as he feels my legs wrap around his hips bringing his crotch right down into mine. I moan slightly tilting my head back.

“Can’t, feel s’to good.” My words slurr as I could feel pleasure running up and down my spine in waves. Rick bends down trailing hot sloppy kisses down my neck into my collar bones, sucking at the sensitive spot making me grind down onto him. He growls gripping my hips pulling me back down onto him. I could feel him grinding himself down into me. His chest heaves in needy breaths. I couldn’t help but to whine, it felt so wrong dry humping my fiancés father in his childhood kitchen, but it felt so good at the same time.

“Need you rick.” I moan out.

“Please.” I frown at him showing off my best puppy eyes. I could feel his dick pulse against me.

“Don look at me like that, sweetheart.” He warns. I quickly slide off of the counter dropping to my knees. I trail my hands up ricks black jeans to his thighs and then to his belt. He doesn’t stop me, he just leans against the counter as i tug his jeans and underwear down to his ankles. His dick springs up close to my face. I could see the intricate veins and precum leaking off his pink puffy tip. I slowly get closer placing a peck on the top of his cock. He grunts as his abs contract in pleasure. I slowly take his tip in my mouth hollowing out while flipping my tongue on the base of his cock flattening it out. He groans deeply sucking in a sharp breath. I swallow more of him down my throat with ease. He moans leaning foreword on the counter I was leaned up against, I could feel his hips thrusting in my mouth. I set my hands to the side as he starts thrusting rougher. His small moans and gasps escaping his throat as I could feel him close to his edge. He quickly pulls out lifting my little body up with ease slamming me on top of the counter.

“Such a good girl huh?” He huffs. “If Carl won’t take care of my baby than I will.” He rips my panties off shoving them in his pocket. Getting down on his knees he kisses my cunt and flattening his tongue on my entrance slowly bringing it up to my clit. He begins to ravage my cunt in fast and needy licks and nibbles. It was so hard for me to be quiet as this was probably the hottest sex I’ve ever had. I felt my legs shake on his shoulders and my arms start to wiggle and give out. Rick stands up wiping off his lips that once were sucking needy at my cunt.

“Lay down baby, don’t worry, I’ll take care of you” his raspy voice soothes my nerves as he lines his tip up to my cunt. He pushes in and I almost came from the sheer thickness of his cock. The way it fills me up and stretches my cunt had me salivating. I couldn’t feel a condom though. And my heart skipped a beat.

“Rick what’re doing-“

“Shhh,” he shushes me and it drowns out all my worries. “Gotta fill my princess up? Yeah.” He starts thrusting slowly but roughly into my wet cunt. I clench down on his cock from his filthy words. “Gonna pump you full of cum” he huffs thrusting faster. My tits bounce roughly due to his thrusts. I arch my back covering my mouth to contain the erotic moans flying out. Rick rips my arms off my mouth holding them down on my stomach. “Don’t hold ur moans in.” He huffs. “Let them hear how good I make you feel.” He growls somehow speeding up fucking me into oblivion as I could feel his dick curve up and hit my G spot with every thrust. I couldn’t hold in my moans anymore and I’m pretty sure the next door neighbors heard me. “That’s my good girl, let them know your my slut.” He whimpers as my cunt clench’s tight around his cock. “You like that huh?” His raspy voice chuckles. “Knowing you’re my slut, how I’m filling you up better than he does mmmh.” My lips quiver and I feel my legs shaking. “R-rick I’m about to cum.” I complain trying to push him off. He doesn’t slow down a bit as he brings up an arm rubbing my clit furiously as he snaps his hips down onto mine. “Cmon baby it’s okay, cum for me.” I felt the buildup finally crash down in hot electric waves. My eyes roll to the back of my head as rick relentlessly pounds my cunt not faltering a second as my orgasm hits. I felt liquid spray all over him, he moans as if that was his breaking point snapping his hips one time deep into my cunt spraying my walls white with his thick cum.

“Fuck, you take my cock so good.” He growls pushing deeper into me, filling up my cunt full. He stands there inside of me as we breathe heavily. I was trying to wrap my head around the fact that I just raw dogged my fiancés father in his kitchen. Rick pulls out staring at the cum dripping down my cunt.

“Rick,thank god I’m on the pill, or else we’d be fucked” I sigh trying to slide off the counter. He pushes me back grabbing napkins while cleaning up his mess.

“Lemmie,” he says while tenderly taking care of me. He picks me up carrying my shaky legs to carls room.

“I’m sorry it got carried away, sweetheart.” He mumbled kissing my forehead. He slowly backs up staring into my eyes intensely while walking away.

After that day I didn’t mind going over to carls over the holidays, in fact, I couldn’t wait till thanksgiving hit, even Christmas.

[jungkoode]

OFF-LABELS | O5

→ PAIRING : Med Student!Hoseok x F!Reader (Brother’s Best Friend AU)

→ RATING: Explicit, 18+.

→ DATE POSTED: February 18th, 2025. (Hobi’s birthday special — 2 chapters! <3)

→ SUMMARY: You’ve spent four years convincing yourself that your brother’s best friend is just being nice when he remembers your coffee order, quizzes you on neuroanatomy, or lets his touch linger a second too long. Because there’s no way that the golden boy of Seoul National’s medical program might actually be flirting with you. Especially when he keeps saying things that could be perfectly innocent… if only he didn’t say them in that voice.

→ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, medical school au, brother’s best friend trope, age gap (4 years), pining, touch starved, overthinking reader, confident hoseok, gentle dom hoseok, medical terminology as flirting (lmao), study sessions, domestic moments, innocent (but not really), plausible deniability king hoseok, anxiety, internal monologue, guilty crushes, subtle teasing, emotional edging, gentle manipulation, praise kink undertones, intellectual attraction, competency kink, hand fixation, voice kink, medical intern hoseok, first year med student reader, home setting, casual intimacy, unresolved sexual tension (for now), secret attraction, nervous rambling, self-doubt, intrusive thoughts, anatomy lessons with ulterior motives, competent hoseok, flustered reader, close proximity, accidental touches that aren’t accidents, virgin!reader.

→ CONTENT in this chapter: After-hours anatomy lab demonstrations, oral examinations taken to new extremes, medical supervision that's definitely not just supervision, educational objectives getting thoroughly derailed, practical assessments of oral capacity, and empirical proof that some lessons are better taught hands-on | after hours encounters, anatomy lab setting, oral examinations, size kink, medical supervision, practical demonstrations, educational roleplay, academic authority, late night studying, clinical instruction, private tutoring, teaching kink, clinical corruption, throat training, oral capacity testing, deepthroating, oral sex (m).

→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 2k

→ MINI SERIES: PREVIOUS | NEXT

→ A/N: So… this happened. Started writing a normal anatomy lab scene and somehow ended up with… whatever this is. Shoutout to everyone who's ever stayed late in a lab for "extra credit" - this one's for you. Also, apologies to actual medical professionals - I promise I'll stop corrupting medical terminology eventually. (No I won't.) Anyway, if you need me, I'll be in confession.

PLAYLIST

The anatomy lab in SNU Medical's west building feels different after hours. 

The place where he assists Professor Kim with first-year dissections now seems more intimate without thirty other students around.

Emptier. 

Like a liminal space where normal rules don't quite apply. 

The preserved specimens float in their jars, casting distorted shadows under fluorescent lights that seem too bright, too stark without the buffer of other students.

You hesitate in the doorway, fingers curling around the strap of your bag. The clock reads 6:47 PM. Late enough that most faculty have left, early enough that the cleaning staff hasn't arrived.

Perfect timing. 

(Too perfect?)

Hoseok looks up from the desk, glasses reflecting blue light from his laptop screen. His smile is warm, welcoming—the kind that makes you forget why you've been avoiding this.

"There you are." He closes his laptop with a soft click. "I was starting to think you'd skip again."

Heat crawls up your neck. "I wouldn't—"

"No?" His head tilts, curious. "Three weeks of creative excuses suggest otherwise."

You clutch your bag tighter. "That wasn't—I mean, I had—"

"Commitments?" The word curves around his mouth like he's tasting it. "Other obligations? A sudden bout of seasonal allergies?"

Your face burns hotter. You had used that excuse last week.

"I—"

"Relax, Chip." He stands, rolling up his sleeves with methodical precision. "I'm not upset."

But there's something in his voice—something that makes your stomach twist even as he maintains that gentle smile.

He gestures to the empty lab bench.

"How's the paper coming along?"

You blink. "What?"

"Your vagus nerve study." He moves closer, each step measured. "The one requiring... practical assessment."

Oh.

Oh.

"It's—" Your voice cracks. "Fine. Good. I mean—"

"Citations?" 

You nod too quickly. "Working on them."

"Mm." He's closer now, close enough that you catch the faint scent of antiseptic and something warmer underneath. "Still need to conduct those clinical trials?"

Your lungs forget how to function. Because he can't mean—he doesn't mean—

"The gag reflex data," he clarifies, innocent as morning. "We never finished collecting your baseline measurements."

You should say no.

You should absolutely say no.

Instead, you hear yourself whisper: "I thought—the lab equipment—"

"Is right here." He reaches past you—so close his chest almost brushes yours—and opens a drawer. The metal tongue depressor catches the light. "Unless you'd prefer a different method?"

"No!" Too loud. Too fast. "This is—this is fine."

His smile softens at the edges. "Hop up then."

You stare at the lab bench. It's higher than the exam table in his office, cold steel instead of crinkly paper.

Your thighs will definitely stick to it.

(Why are you thinking about your thighs?)

"I can grab a stool," he offers, reading your hesitation wrong. Always wrong. "Though the height differential might affect data collection."

You shake your head and boost yourself onto the bench. The metal is freezing through your thin scrubs, making you shiver. Or maybe that's just him—standing between your knees now, adjusting his glasses with one hand while the other tests the depressor's weight.

"Cold?"

You shake your head again. Lie again.

"Your skin suggests otherwise." His knuckle brushes your jaw, clinical and devastating. "Goosebumps."

You can't breathe.

"Open," he murmurs, and you do—automatically, embarrassingly fast. His thumb settles at the corner of your mouth. "Wider."

The metal slides past your lips, cool and smooth and nothing like what you've been imagining late at night when you can't sleep. Not that you've been imagining anything. Not that you've been thinking about his hands or his voice or—

"Focus, Chip." The depressor presses deeper. "You're distracted."

You make a strangled sound that might be denial.

"Breathing's irregular." His thumb shifts, almost slipping past your teeth. "Try to relax. Like last time."

Last time.

Last time, when you'd gone home and touched yourself until your fingers cramped, thinking about his voice saying good girl and his thumb so close to—

"Swallow."

You do. Your throat works around the intrusion as his eyes track the movement.

"Again."

Saliva pools under your tongue, threatening to spill. You swallow harder, fighting the urge to gag as the depressor slides deeper.

"Remarkable improvement." His voice stays perfectly level even as his thumb edges closer to your tongue. "Your oral cavity seems more... receptive today."

You whimper.

"Pain?" Always concerned. Always gentle.

You shake your head minutely.

"Then what?" His glasses slip slightly as he leans closer, examining your reaction. "Excess stimulation?"

You can't answer with your mouth full. Can't tell him that you're thinking about other things that might stretch your throat this way. Can't admit that you've been practicing with your own fingers, trying to suppress your gag reflex for reasons that have nothing to do with medicine and everything to do with the way he's looking at you right now.

"Your pulse is elevated." His free hand finds your wrist, thumb pressing against your racing heartbeat. "We should document these physiological responses. For research purposes."

The depressor shifts angle slightly, and you—

You moan.

The sound echoes in the empty lab, bouncing off specimen jars and steel surfaces. Mortification floods your system as Hoseok goes very, very still.

"Interesting," he breathes, and something shifts in his expression—pupils expanding until only a thin ring of brown remains. His throat works as he swallows, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

The depressor pushes deeper.

"Let's... test your limits." His voice sounds different—rougher, like it's being dragged over gravel. "See how much you can take."

You whimper as the metal hits the back of your throat. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, but you don't pull away. Can't pull away. Not when he's looking at you like that—intense, focused, hungry.

(No. Not hungry. Clinical. This is clinical.)

"Good girl," he murmurs, the words falling heavy between you. "Just like that."

Your vision blurs as you gag around the intrusion. His thumb catches a tear tracking down your cheek, the touch impossibly gentle.

"Breathe through your nose." His own breathing sounds uneven, which is... strange. Hoseok is never uneven. Never anything but perfectly controlled. "Focus on relaxing your throat."

You try. You try. But all you can focus on is the way his chest rises and falls too quickly, the slight tremor in his usually steady hands.

"Perhaps..." He withdraws the depressor slowly, watching your lips drag along the metal. "We should try something different."

Your heart stops.

"Different?"

His teeth catch his lower lip—a gesture so uncharacteristically uncertain it makes your stomach flip.

"Something more... anatomically appropriate."

Heat pools low in your belly. Because he can't mean—

"The depressor's angle is too rigid," he continues, setting it aside. "We need something with more... give."

You're going to die. You're actually going to die right here on this lab bench.

"What—" Your voice cracks. "What did you have in mind?"

His eyes drop to your mouth. "Something longer. Thicker." His thumb traces your lower lip. "Something that can... adapt to your oral cavity."

You can't breathe.

"For accurate data collection," he adds softly, but his voice has that breathless quality you've never heard before. "If you're willing to participate in a more... thorough examination."

Your thighs press together unconsciously. His gaze tracks the movement, pupils blown so wide they look almost black behind his glasses.

"I—" You swallow hard. "Yes."

"Yes?" 

"For... for science."

His smile is different now—darker, hungrier. "For science," he echoes, stepping closer between your spread knees. "Then open your mouth, Chip."

You do.

His thumb slips past your lips.

It rests heavy on your tongue, pad rough against sensitive flesh. You stay frozen, unsure, until his voice drops to a whisper:

"Suck."

The command shivers through you. You close your lips around the digit, drawing it deeper as his other hand grips the edge of the lab bench. The metal creaks under his white-knuckled grip.

"Good," he breathes, watching your mouth work with half-lidded eyes. "Just like that."

His breathing grows heavier as you hollow your cheeks, tongue testing its path around the pad of his thumb. A muscle jumps in his jaw—it’s the only tell he’s not fully unaffected as his expresión suggests.

"Your oral fixation is..." His voice catches as you try sucking harder. "...remarkably developed."

You whimper around his thumb, heat pooling between your thighs at the strain in his voice. His free hand moves to his belt, the buckle clinking softly in the quiet lab.

The metallic clink makes your breath catch. His eyes flick over his shoulder, landing on the chair by his desk. A soft chuckle escapes him as he gestures toward it.

"Perhaps we should continue somewhere more... comfortable?"

Your thighs clench involuntarily. 

Is this happening? Is this actually happening?

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for your response. You nod—too eager, too fast, probably looking desperate but you can't bring yourself to care because holy fuck this is real.

The belt slides free with a whisper of leather. He settles into the chair with easy grace, legs spreading to make space for you. Your knees hit the floor before he can even ask, positioning yourself between his thighs like you belong there.

His cock strains against his slacks as he works open his fly. You stare, transfixed, as he frees himself.

Oh.

Oh god.

Your mouth goes dry.

Because he's—he's huge. Thick and long and already leaking at the tip. Your hands look tiny where they rest on his thighs, and the thought of fitting him in your mouth makes you dizzy with want.

"Having second thoughts?" His voice stays gentle even as his cock twitches under your gaze.

You shake your head frantically. "No, I just—" Your voice cracks. "You're... big."

His thumb traces your lower lip. "We'll go slow. Test your limits gradually."

You sigh softly, leaning into his touch as his other hand wraps around his base. The sight of his surgical fingers barely meeting around his girth makes your cunt clench.

"Ready for your practical exam, Chip?"

You lean forward, tongue darting out to taste the precum beading at his tip. His breath hitches almost imperceptibly.

"Start shallow," he instructs, voice remarkably steady despite the way his cock jumps against your lips. "Focus on breathing through your nose."

You obey, wrapping your lips around his head. The taste is heady—salt and skin and him. His hand cups the back of your head, not pushing, just resting there as you take him deeper.

"Good girl." His thumb strokes behind your ear. "Now hollow your cheeks—yes, just like that. Notice how your soft palate accommodates the intrusion?"

You whimper around his length, the clinical terminology somehow making this filthier. His glasses fog slightly as his breathing grows heavier.

"Careful with your teeth," he murmurs, removing his frames. His eyes look darker without them, pupils blown wide as he watches you struggle to take more. "Use your tongue along the—ah—along the ventral surface."

Your jaw already aches from the stretch, but you press forward eagerly, wanting to please him. Wanting to be good. Drool escapes the corner of your mouth as you bob your head.

"Perfect form," he praises, voice growing rougher. "Though your technique could use... refinement."

You pull back to catch your breath, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. "Show me?"

His hand tightens in your hair. "Eager student." His thumb wipes saliva from your chin. "Okay. Let's test your gag reflex properly now."

You stare at his length, anxiety bubbling in your throat. "I don't—I don't know if that’s going to fit—"

"Hm?" His eyebrow lifts, expression mildly puzzled. "That's unlike you. Don't you always aim for perfect scores?"

Heat floods your face as he cups your cheek, thumb pressing at the corner of your mouth.

"Think of this as another practical exam, Chip." His voice carries that familiar teaching lilt. "Open wide."

You comply, jaw stretching as his thumbs press into your cheeks, guiding your mouth wider. His cock nudges your lips, hot and heavy.

"One inch..." He slides in slowly, watching your lips stretch around him. "Good. Just like that."

Your tongue flattens to accommodate him as he pushes deeper.

"Two..." His thumb wipes away drool from your chin. "Excellent oral cavity expansion."

Three inches in and your jaw already aches. He tuts softly.

"Three... Remember your breathing exercises."

You whimper as he continues, your hands clutching his thighs for stability.

"Four..." He pauses, stroking your hair. "Halfway there."

Your eyes snap up to his in panic. Halfway? That can't be right. You're already so full, your mouth stretched impossibly wide, and he's saying there's more?

"Five..." His voice grows rougher. "You're doing so well."

By the sixth inch, you're gagging, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Your throat spasms around him as you fight the urge to pull back.

"That's cute," he murmurs, thumb catching a tear. "You’re struggling, aren’t you? Ah—don't pull away. You can take it."

You whine, chest heaving as he holds you steady.

"Two more inches, Chip." His tone is gentle but firm. "You can handle that, can't you? Wouldn't want to disappoint me."

You make a desperate sound of agreement, even as your throat protests.

"That's what I thought." His fingers card through your hair. "Seven..."

Your vision blurs with tears as he pushes deeper, your throat stretching to accommodate his girth. Drool runs down your chin, but he doesn't seem to mind, just wipes it away with tender attention.

"Just one more," he breathes, voice finally showing strain. "Almost there. You're being so good for me..."

His thumb traces your stretched lip, pushing down slightly as you struggle to accommodate more. The burn is delicious—your jaw protesting as he inches forward. Saliva keeps pooling below your tongue, carving paths down your chin.

"Tsk." He clicks his tongue softly. "Swallow first. Need to keep the airway clear."

His palm settles against your throat, feeling it work as you obey. The contact makes you fuzzy—his surgical fingers spanning your neck, monitoring your every swallow.

For the first time, his exhale sounds unsteady. Sharp. Almost accidental.

"Good girl." The praise makes your eyelashes flutter. "Now—"

His hips shift minutely, cock head pressing against the back of your throat. You gag instantly, tears springing up.

"Angle your chin." His voice stays gentle despite the roughness creeping in. "Opens the passage."

You tilt your head back, letting him guide you with careful fingers. The new angle lets him slide deeper, breaching your throat properly. Your eyes water immediately, gag reflex fighting against the intrusion.

"Breathe," he reminds you, but his own breath catches when you hollow your cheeks. "Through your nose. Steady."

You try. You try. But it's so much—too much—your nostrils flaring as he pushes that final inch past your lips. A choked sound escapes around his girth.

His thumb catches another tear. "Almost there. Just relax..."

Your nose brushes his abdomen as the final inch disappears. He holds you there, thumb stroking your distended throat.

“Perfect depth achievement,” he notes clinically. “How does that feel? Tap my thigh once for manageable, twice for overwhelming.”

You tap twice, desperately.

“Mm.” His smile curves like a scalpel. “We’ll work on your endurance.” His hips roll slightly, testing. “Now… let’s practice sustained accommodation.”

The door’s distant rattle barely registers—you’re too focused on not choking as he begins to move. 

“Look at you, stuffed full like a cream puff about to burst.”

You whine, the sound muffled by his cock stretching your throat impossibly wide.

"Shh." His touch remains gentle even as your eyes stream. "We'll practice until you get it right."

Your tongue tentatively explores his length, tracing the prominent vein on his underside. His composure fractures—just for a moment—as he hisses through his teeth.

"Christ—" His fingers pull your hair suddenly, holding you still as his hips stutter. "No sudden movements, Chip. You'll choke."

But his own control is slipping. His thrusts grow erratic—shallow, desperate things that make your throat flutter around him. Precum leaks steadily now, salty and thick as it mingles with your drool.

"Precious thing," he breathes, thumb collecting the mess from your chin. "Bet I could fit a dozen seeds in that pout… but you’d still beg for the whole fruit.”

The commentary makes you moan around him, and the vibration finally, finally pulls a proper groan from his chest.

“God, Chip,” he groans, “you’re like taffy stretching around my cock. So soft, so pliant. Bet I could mold you into anything I want.”

His hips snap forward suddenly—harder than before—and you gag violently as he bottoms out. He freezes instantly, cursing under his breath as he withdraws.

"Too much?" 

You cough, shaking your head even as saliva drips down your neck. "N-no, I—"

"Shh." He tilts your chin up, examining your face with clinical attention. His thumb probes your stretched lips, pressing down on your tongue. "Swelling here. We should stop."

Panic floods your system. "Wait, I can—"

"Patience." His smile softens, thumb still working your abused mouth open. "We'll build your tolerance gradually."

His other hand wraps around his cock, stroking lazily as he studies you. The wet sounds fill the lab—obscene and perfect.

"Watch," he orders, and you can’t look away from the way his fist glides—slick with your spit, his precum, the absolute ruin you’ve made of him. "This is the proper rhythm. Steady. Controlled."

But his breathing betrays him—ragged and desperate as his pace increases.

"Your turn next time," he promises, thumb pressing against your clenching lips. "Need to monitor your technique."

You nod eagerly, mouth watering as he speeds up. His hips jerk off the chair, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to stifle sounds you desperately want to hear.

When he comes, it's with a choked groan—hot spurts painting your waiting tongue before you can process it.

“Such a sticky mess…” He tuts softly, almost a chuckle. "Like you face-planted in cotton candy.”

You whimper at that.

"Swallow," he grits out, hand gentle on your jaw. "Don't spill."

You obey, throat working around the bitter tang. His thumb swipes the corner of your mouth, collecting a stray drop. 

"Perfect," he murmurs, pressing the digit between your lips. "Clean-up is crucial."

You suck obediently, watching his spent cock twitch against his thigh. His laugh sounds wrecked.

"Insatiable," he chides, but pride colors his tone. "We'll schedule another session. Thursday work?"

You nod, tongue laving his thumb. His eyes darken as he retrieves his glasses.

"Good. Bring your notes on esophageal motility." He tucks himself away with trembling hands. "We'll... review the material thoroughly."

His glasses fog slightly as he helps you up on shaky legs. Always the gentleman. Always in control.

"Thursday," you whisper, voice hoarse.

His smile is pure sin wrapped in medical precision. "Don't forget your notes, Chip."

You won't. You absolutely won't.

Though you doubt either of you will be reading them.

→ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @just-reading-dany @sanarin @billy-jeans23 @stuti2904 @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7

© 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓.

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[omegaversetheory]

One of the parts of the omegaverse's worldbuilding I like the most is the concept of nests and all of its possibilities! In fact I have some personal headcannons if you dont mind to read:

-Nests can variate in size, shape, prupose...from individual nests being exclusively for a single omega, to huge mountains of blankets and pillows made for entire packs to fit in (wheither they are friend packs, family packs, etc)

-In family packs, omegas tend to keep EVERY single plushie that has belonged to ANY member of the family and put them in the nests, so its not weird to see nests filled with old teddybears that have belonged to some great great grandparent 125 years ago. They make that as a tribute to those family members that have passed away, to tell them that they will never be forgotten and there will always be a place in the nests for them, even if they are not physcslly there anymore.

-In some areas its common to organise "nest trades" several times a year. In those events, many omegas reunite to give hand-made plushies, pillows, blankets, etc to those packs that struggle economically and cannot afford proper nests. They also trade items between friends, sell items made of alternative materials for people with allergies, discuss over which nest structures and ideas are viable or not, make expositions of nests made by them that people can try on,etc

-Nests are also a prominent topic In social media. There are like thousands of channels that focus entirely on nest designing: tutorials on how to make proper nests of different sizes, advice on which materials are better to use in every case, which color combinations look better, which type of decoration use depending on the aesthetic they want the nest to be, and even videos showing nests with original and unusual structures and colors. Nests are not only consdered a comfort place, but also a subgender of art and a way to express your creativity.

great stuff! I'd love to hear more about the workings of your au! share anytime :)

[a-twistedheartslonging]

I always assumed the humans in nonhuman au were more so a statistical minority, like few enough in number that not much accommodates them but enough humans that most know about humans and have various ideas or info on humans to varying degrees. It's like how peanut allergies technically only affect 1.8% of the US population but most everyone knows about peanut allergies and some info on what that can entail except in Nonhuman AU, humans are the statistical minority and are dwindling population just due to getting absorbed into the population as humans keep mixing into the nonhumans like how modern day homo sapiens absorbed neanderthals and other ancient humans, the lineages merged.

I imagine most clothes, desk sizes, a fair amount of food dishes and products are made for and influenced by a huge variety of historic animal behaviors and the cultures that grew from these natural behaviors over history thus many foods, play stuff, and even products like perfume or soaps are made with most other evolved creatures in mind. Stuff like soaps and perfumes with more mild or very specific scents that might appeal to creatures, products a human society wouldn't have but that makes perfect sense for a world where it's normal for some folks to dig giant holes by hand (rabbits, moles, hedgehogs) or climb. Plus there are probably a lot of more products made for large creatures. Although considering that most "megafauna" which includes humans and larger are technically in the minority in terms of numbers and species, especially considering the sheer number of species of rodents and opossums and various other creatures that are much smaller, so it's likely that a fair amount of stuff still fits humans just by virtue of there being SO many smol beasties that evolved from the plethora of small animals (seriously, so many creatures tend to be on the small side like lizards birds rodents etc with a few notable Large Lads of which humans are technically a part of, including deer wolves bears etc)

However humans are notably odd in comparison to most, we're the naked chimps that became long distance runners who throw stuff and were extremely social to everything. So we'd still be odd to most beasties especially since our natural instincts aren't really like the others either, human instinct tends to boil down to: wander, explore, make friend of some kind, experiment or create, walk forever (it's why pacing is a common behavior to do absentmindedly or when nervous or anxious- relying on natural behavior to self soothe technically). Arguably the only equivalent oddball is the naked mole rat which is basically if rodents decided to become an ant colony.

Like humans are rare enough there's a fair amount of misinformation but well known enough to not truly fuck up stuff, there's enough species and habits overlap to not infringe too heavily on things in terms of quality of life (there are a few species that have periods and that are as intensely omnivorous- a surprisingly huge overlap between human diets and most scavengers especially with how both can eat fermented foods, mushrooms and cheeses) but due to few numbers and the social view of humans being adorable and wanted you do get a fair amount of coddling and people keep track of em especially since dwindling population due to humans being absorbed into most lineages.

Of course, the beauty of your Nonhuman AU is that it's open to interpretation

There's multiple versions of Epel, from small bird harpy to bunny epel, or Riddle, bunny Riddle or hedgehog Riddle.

There's Owl Rook and then there's Deer Rook who leans into how rook is still an oddball that worries people and also deer are goofy and do very much eat protein when given the opportunity so y'know, cue how rook despite being a species that wouldn't normally keep pace with the other species but still does and does it really really well like canon human Rook.

It's fun either way

Ooooh that's a lot of good stuff.

It's really fun to think about how the world and society would work. I think I remember talking about how even fancy restaurants would have booster seats for those that happen to be smol since there are a lot of smol beasts out there.

The human instinct of "explore and make friends of some kind" are probably a part of how humans are still around. They're just so good at managing to "domesticate" beasts that would have wanted to eat them otherwise, so they want to keep them instead. Keep cute friend that's so good at grooming and making things.

But yeah, not having things set in stone really opens a lot of possibilities for fun things to do with this world. It's fun to switch around what the twst cast would be and through around idea's.

[fjsjjgnnfjdjf]

The other day I was looking at how the sizes of the boys in my story would compare after Mikey finished growing and HOLY CRAP! Literally Leo and Donnie look like ants next to Mikey.

For those in doubt, these are the actual heights of the boys in my story:

Raph - 6' 0'' (Normal size)

Leo - 0' 7'' (Approximately 10 times smaller than normal size)

Donnie - 0' 6'' (Approximately 10 times smaller than normal size)

Mikey - 45' 10'' (Approximately 10 times his normal size)

I should add that I translated these measurements based on the SI, which is the one used in my country, although there should be no difference.

This means that, in comparison, Mikey is almost 100 times bigger in contrast to Leo and Donnie, that's why he doesn't understand them when they talk.

Anyway, it's just a silly curiosity that I wanted to post.

[scaraandshitposts]

okay wait I was onto smth!! maybe!!!

Halloween/Fall Hcs with genshin men!🕸

written w fem reader in mind, established relationships, modern au, light sex joke, ft scara, ajax, lyney

scara

if you're going to want to be out and about on halloween, this is not the guy for you. 100% wants to stay in the whole time

will watch scary movies/play horror games with you, he will any day honestly but- he gets such an ego boost if you hide yourself in his shirt during gorey or freaky parts of movies. he gets so happy that he feels like he can protect you

he will not, under any circumstances, hand out candy to trick or treaters. he will slam the door in a 6 year olds face lmao he thinks it's stupid and will be honest about it. if you have a young sibling, he'll come with you to take them trick or treating (and complain a lot)

he doesn't care for anything sweet, probably opting for sour candies like sweettarts or those weird hard ball things. but maybe if he's feeling generous, he'll buy you some of your favorite treats. even if he hates the sticky sweet gummies and pixie stix you adore, you can bet everything he'll stand in line for hours the day before halloween.

he thinks dressing up is stupid, but you could talk him into a basic couples costume. maybe ghostface and casey (tbh ive never watched scream movies so im going off google) he would probably do that pumpkin head trend with you, he'll feel stupid the whole time but it's worth it to make you happy.

he'd want to carve pumpkins, and he will, but carving them gets difficult for him. it takes a lot of strength to do that, but he will do his best and attempt to help you. maybe it's best to skip this and just paint pumpkins...

you can take him to starbucks for a pumpkin spice latte all you want, but he'll insist on paying and get the worst tasting black coffee every time!! it's even worse because he genuinely likes bitter coffee

overall 10/10 fall boyfie, he doesn't like all the chaos and celebrations, but does enjoy quality time with you<3

ajax

he was literally made for this. he adores autumn and winter. considering he's from shneznaya, he could wear a t-shirt any time in fall and be fine, no matter where you live.

he'll take you to all his friends parties, if your up for it. and you have to have matching costumes, any couple you can think of is a valid costume option. he will be ken. he will wear the fucking roller skating costume. a little off topic but he saw the barbie movie and loved it.

spends halloween hitting up parties and showing off your costumes and takes teucer out to trick or treat at the end of the night. it's literally so cute to see him walking with teucer, eventually carrying him home when it gets too late.

he's so sweet to kids while giving out candy. i think he's the type to have candy bars and other allergy safe options, lollipops and goldfish maybe. the neighborhood kids love his house because of how rich he is, king sized chocolate bars for all. he's such a family man and adores kids so he's made for this.

he goes mad when decorating for halloween, pushing the line between too scary for kids and too cute. somehow it always works out. I feel like he'd be good at decorations because he takes side jobs at haunted houses. he'd be really good at playing a slasher i think.

you'll go to the haunted house he's working at with a group of friends, and he'll end up sneaking up on you from behind, pressing his fake knife to your throat and whispering "boo" it nearly gives you a heart attack but it's mad funny. he definitely gets in trouble for kissing one of the customers, but it's worth it.

if you prefer a calmer way to celebrate, he'll skip most of the parties and have a nice night with you after teucer gets tired out from a sugar rush. you'll snuggle up on the couch together watch whatever scary movies you'd like, he definitely puts up a bunch of candles for the fun atmosphere.

he'll buy you literally anything halloween or fall related. you want a cute new reath for autumn? only the best one on the market for you. want some overpriced seasonal drink? you're having a large and he'll get one too! it's honestly just an excuse to spoil you at this point

he's a 9/10 in this department. would be a 10 if he didn't make jokes about skeletons and boners...

lyney

the halloween boyfriend of the century. he has so much fun with holiday stuff and dressing up makes it even better

he's a performer, he's extra, so he has to win any costume contests! lynette is sick of this nonsense by now but it warms her heart to see you having so much fun helping lyney with his autumnal nonsense.

he's not necessarily one for big halloween celebrations, opting to spend his time hanging out with you and his siblings, possibly telling scary stories. lynette is rather unphased but poor freminet is always freaked out afterwards. there's definitely more than enough marshmallows for all the smores you intend to eat while this goes on.

he'll let you snuggle up next to him around the fire pit if you get a little freaked out. he gets to entertain and be with his lover, two of his favorite things. he'll even roast a few marshmallows for you! but it's expected that you return the gesture.

he'll definitely buy all kinds of dumb halloween decorations from the closest dollar store. don't be suprised when you find plastic spiders placed around the house. he loves to decorate outside of the house, it's slightly obnoxious but you're used to it at this point.

he'll happily take you out for whatever over the top seasonal drink you want, he does this for lynette every year as well. unsurprisingly, she typically becomes the third wheel to these drink based outings. but it's worth it to see lyney fawning over you like a puppy.

as previously mentioned, he dresses up and goes hard on halloween costumes. he'll be the one begging you to match for halloween. he seriously goes hard, the time and dedication of a seasoned cosplayer goes into his costumes.

he's the type to take you to fall festivals and engage in the classic fair games, throwing darts, bobbing for apples, even silly haunted houses. you might end up dragging him into a haunted house, lyney won't get too scared... or at least that's what he says, but he holds your hand the whole time.

a solid 9/10 fall boyfriend, definitely gets into all aspects of october and fall as a whole. he gets a little too carried away and might forget about your scary movie date... but it's okay because now you, him, and both of his siblings all have matching costumes!!

shit i sorta lost motivation with lyneys uhhh it's fineee i just wanted this out for halloween lol

[perpetualexistence]

How to Borrow a Bot

I'm not late to Noahvember. You're late to Noahvember. /j

Here's my one contribution for Day 7: Free Day

A Giant/Tiny AU! If you know me this should not come as a surprise to you. If you don't, welcome to my madness.

It's got Assistant Noah if you really squint at it, Alejandro in a robot suit, and Noah just being a little guy trying his best to live in a production lot.

Enjoy my 4.3K rambles I put under a read more so as to not flood your dash!

Noah is a Borrower. He's about the size of a mouse, which is pretty common for his kind. As are the pointed ears and the tail.

His kind tend to stay in small groups inside human-made structures. They don't let the larger folk know about them since. Well. They've seen how humans treat each other. Doesn't put much confidence in how they'd be treated.

To help with this, they would do maintenance on the houses they lived it. It was their house too, after all. Plus, when things went wrong, then maintenance people were called. They could open walls to find the source of the problem and instead find the evidence of Borrowers. If not Borrowers themselves.

It would be safer to hide themselves in the woods. However, that would open themselves up to attacks from the wildlife. A few groups try, and manage to make it work. But they are few and far in between.

Not Noah, though. He's trekking out on his own.

Not completely by choice, mind you. One of his older siblings had gotten sloppy with their 'borrowing'. (Noah had always thought borrowing was a stupid name for it. It was stealing. No amount of dressing it up would change it. It's not like any humans would even notice enough to care what they called themselves.)

Fortunately for them, the humans had thought it was just a rat problem. Unfortunately for them, when they were too smart for the rat traps the humans had called an exterminator. In the panic he'd gotten separated from the rest of his family.

So now, he was here. Living in the walls of a tv studio. You wouldn't think it'd be the best place to set up his home, but you'd be surprised.

The production lot he lived on was one that was used mainly for pilots thinking they were going to be the next big thing. With the rapid turnover of staff, actors, and producers, no one stayed long enough to notice when little things went missing.

There were plenty of rafters to run across with no one the wiser. The techies were usually more concerned with their screaming bosses than noticing movement out of the corner of their eyes.

Where he actually lived, the prop room, wasn't so bad either. He mainly stayed in the area where they dumped all the crap they were never actually going to use again, but still kept around 'just in case'. It left him perfect materials to steal from and craft with.

His favorite piece to take from was something they called the Drama Bot. It was something they'd used for some mindless talk show piece? It had been in another set, so he had. no clue. He just knew the thing was shut down and had enough wires and metal to make scrap from.

Though the part that made the set one of the objectively best places to be was one exclusive to sets alone: craft services.

Craft services were a godsend. Finger sandwiches, bite-sized brownies, etc. Most of the food was already in small portions for actors and set workers to eat on the go. It was all too easy to grab and take away. They even labelled ingredients for allergies.

You would think that the universe already hated him enough with making him small enough to be swatted at by a broom but no, it also had to give him life threatening allergies limiting his already small selection of food choices.

He just had to make sure he stole while they were filming. Which also meant a free show.

If only 'free' meant 'good'.

Most of the time he could tell when a show was going to be dead in the water. Whether it was from the way the actors and producers bickered when they thought no one was watching (the REAL show if anyone asked him), or if the script was just awful.

Noah wanted better entertainment, but books were his normal go to. The only books he could really find here were prop books, or scripts.

Particularly the scripts that found their way into the producer's room. There were always stacks from wannabe writers and so many of them were garbage. Those ones usually found their way into the garbage. They were good for when Noah wanted to laugh and tear something to shreds.

Though there was always the one script in there that really shouldn't be. Usually because of a producer's personal biases or it not being 'marketable' enough. And he'd also find scripts that made it to the table for further consideration that were utter garbage, but the kind of utter garbage that sold.

...If those two types of scripts had ever 'found themselves' switched, then no one else was really complaining about it. And they better not. They were hard they were to drag.

So all in all, life was pretty good. Things were chaotic, but in a routine way. One he could prepare and plan for. Important aspects for survival.

Then life decided to kick him in the shins with a pilot that actually took off.

This newest production was 'Total Drama Dirtbags'. It was reality TV, so far from the most intelligent thing. But it did involve assholes giving each other what they deserved by their sheer presence, so there was cathartic amusement to be had there. The formula must have worked for enough people because the concept was greenlit, and due to a shortage of production sets they decided to film it in this lot.

Most of the people living in 'the mansion' were vapid. They thought they were manipulative and outsmarting each other, when really it was just the clear script some writer had made working towards making sure certain storylines went through.

With one exception. One Alejandro Burromuerto.

He would come up with improv, except unlike the others attempts his were actually good. The host and producers would let him keep it in, despite him being a new face for as far as Noah could tell. He still kept up his act offset. Charming assistants just as much as his fellow contestants.

It was only when Alejandro was completely by himself that Noah saw the mask fully drop.

He'd expect Alejandro to just be a complete asshole like the others were when the cameras weren't rolling, but...no. He seemed more tired than anything else. He'd just scroll on his phone and put earphones in.

Noah dared to get close enough to see what Alejandro was doing. He wasn't sure why. It was incredibly stupid, as he could see how perceptive Alejandro could be. But...he was just curious. Even if he couldn't pinpoint why.

The reason why Alejandro read on his phone became clear with each time Noah checked. The Cask of Amontillado the first time, then a reality baking show, Tony Hawks, hell one time he saw the man watching an episode of Dinosaur Train.

It left Noah with so many questions. Given how Alejandro danced around others' questions, he doubted he would get any straight answer.

Not that he could even ask in the first place. Curiosity didn't make him suddenly stupid. He wasn't about to expose himself just because a mystery of a man showed up as one of the more interesting things in his short life.

It wasn't meant to be, anyways. Filming on set wrapped up quicker than Noah had realized it would.

They bothered to rent an actual mansion for the finale. No final day party or anything. No proper send off.

It was fine. Life goes on. Noah should have known better than to let himself get spoiled with an interesting enigma.

…He would have been as fine as he could be with it. If he wasn’t embroiled within a different enigma.

Someone came to take the drama bot away. Nearly caught Noah too, as he hadn't expected anyone to come that deep into the prop room. It wasn't completely unheard of for someone to need an old prop to repurpose into something else. But that hadn't quite explained the panic on the interns face as he came to remove it.

So there went another of Noah's sources of comfort. Sure, it was an unmoving hunk of metal, but it was still the closest thing to companionship that he was going to get.

A few days later, they brought the drama machine back. It looked different. Modified. Extra screws, polished metal. Small details others might have ignored. Glaringly obvious at Noah's size.

When the coast was clear, he approached the bucket of bolts. There might be something new to salvage if he could find a new way to dig in there.

Yellow and blue masks blinked to life as he got close. The thing started beeping loudly. Rolled away from him.

Reflected Noah's panic at this machine that was still powered on this time around. He was lucky his size meant his screams and scrambling backwards couldn't be picked up by anything other than this lumbering death machine.

Although the Drama Bot had no eyes to move, Noah had the distinct feeling he was being watched by this thing. He knew human technology was coming along fast, but he hadn't been expecting this.

The machine began to roll forward. Noah had no idea what kind of programming it had in mind for something like Noah, but he wasn't about to take any chances. He ran to the nearest hole in the wall and stayed there as he struggled to figure out what to do with the thing.

He could try to turn it off. It'd mean sneaking up on the thing. Failure of which would mean getting caught or crushed. He'd get the prop room back for himself.

Safer thing to do was leave it be. Accept the prop room as a lost cause and find somewhere else on the lot to live. Find somewhere that had more of a risk of being caught by human, but less of being rolled over by a robot.

There was a third option. This thing wasn't remote operated like Noah had assumed when he'd first seen it. It turned itself on because it saw Noah. Whether that's because it saw Noah as a rat or a human, he couldn't tell. Not without experimenting, which brought its own risks.

...He really hoped it didn't have any memories of him stealing pieces of it away for parts.

Noah poked his head out of his hiding hole. The bot was back where it had been left behind. Powered down once more. Good. He climbed up and out of sight. Based on its design, the thing couldn't tilt its head up. He'd be using that to his advantage.

He climbed onto one of the highest shelves he could manage. The more distance between him and the robot, the better. Only then did he strike up his nerve.

"Hey!"

The 'eyes' lit up again. The thing spun towards him, but as he suspected, didn't look up. It was making his way closer to his shelf.

Then...it stopped. Began to roll away from him. It didn't even turn around. It stopped a distance away from him. Now it'd be harder for his voice to carry through. It was a stupid choice on the robot's end, but it seemed very deliberate. The only thing backing up accomplished would be giving it distance...

Oh.

The robot was clever.

Noah couldn't quite pretend to be human anymore now that the thing could see him. Even if it was a much smaller version of him from a much wider field of view. Still, this had to work, or else he'd just put himself in danger for nothing.

"Blink once if you can understand me!" His voice was going to kill him tomorrow. At least he was rewarded with the robots masks flashing once.

"Good! You're not going to kill me or snitch, and I'm not going to take any parts out of you. Deal? One blink for yes, two for no."

Noah wouldn't be able to steal from it anyways now what it was active. He wasn't about to risk electrocution. But the robot didn't need to know that.

It blinked once.

Good. Noah was content for each of them to stay out of each other's way. He still grabbed his stuff and settled in for one of the higher shelves that the robot couldn't reach on his own. He wasn't about to completely trust the thing.

He could at least get space from it when he went to other parts of the studio.

That was a nice thought that lasted about a day or two until they pulled the Drama Bot out of the closet again.

He found it carrying loads of scripts for directors and TV hosts. Making coffee runs. Holding cue cards when the teleprompters were on the fritz. Used as a table. Occasionally fed some kind of slurry for god knows what.

The only difference between it and an intern was that an intern got paid with 'experience'. This robot's reward was getting shoved inside of a closet when it wasn't needed.

It was hard not to feel bad for the thing.

So fine, maybe he spoke to it when they were both in the prop room. He'd done it before the thing was kept online 24/7. There wasn't any reason to stop.

He'd talk about the gossip he'd overheard, the horrible scripts he read, and the rumors he'd heard about the bosses when the robot had a rough day. It was more satisfying when he could get a response this time around. Usually a series of beeps that Noah was sure was laughter.

When the thing got banged up after a day of being manhandled, Noah did his best with the smaller repairs. Couldn't have someone to talk shit with if it was going to break down due to an issue no one else bothered to fix.

He didn't do it for free, of course. If others were able to boss him around, Noah wasn't going to let that opportunity go to waste. Though he was nice enough to make most of his requests as simple as 'open the door for me'.

The Drama Bot would notice Noah around. It was a startling way to find out he wasn't as sneaky as he thought he was when the robot gave a small wave to crafts services when no one else was looking.

Being seen is a death sentence. Lesson number one is ingrained into a Borrower's head over and over again. It was the least desirable thing in the world.

So why did Noah feel more relaxed when he saw the Drama Bot acknowledge his existence outside of the prop room?

He hadn't realized how tense he always was until he had someone he could actually talk to. He'd been paranoid any time he had to pop out of walls. Now he was aware, but most of the fear left the second he saw the Drama Bot in the room with him, too. Maybe it was their mutual suffering from fate that put him at ease.

Noah was getting comfortable.

Too comfortable.

Comfortable enough to Borrow from craft services up until he heard the word 'cut', instead of in the middle of someone else's line.

Comfort that died as one of the actor's spotted his small form in the center of table and shrieked 'MOUSE!'

Everything became a flurry of movement. Noah running for the edge of the table. Humans running away from the table. Others towards. The fastest would be the one to determine his fate.

Squeaky wheels proved to be the victor as Noah was snatched up by a pair of pincers.

Noah had always taken great care not to get within grabbing distance of the Drama Bot, even when talking with it. The cold from its metal seeped into his clothes. He counteracted it with his instinctive thrashing around.

"KILL IT!" a human said, damning him.

"No, don't you dare-" he hissed to the robot. He knew it was futile. He'd seen this robot understand hierarchy of the set and Noah was nowhere on the map. He had to try.

The robot's grip tightened. Noah gasped for breath that was squeezed out of him, and began thrashing around. No care, no strategy. Just sheer panic at what he knew would come for him.

The robot's other arm pointed towards the door, and Noah could feel himself being moved. Great, he was going to be taken out back like a dog. He tried to reach for some kind of wiring, anything, but there was nothing except the rapidly approaching door. The robot barreled past others while holding Noah close to its icy plating.

Noah's squeaks of terror fell on deaf ears, or speakers, or whatever this thing had. There was just outside, and the back alley, and the dumpster, where-

Noah was set down on the lid. The robot was beeping rapidly, its eyes flickering quick enough to give someone a seizure. Noah clutched his ears and closed his eyes to this onslaught of stimulation after the harrowing experience of knowing his death was near. He just wanted this to be over quick.

Instead, he felt something carefully pat his head. He cracked an eye open to see one half of the bot's pincers. Moving up and down, oh so careful not to press down on Noah forcefully.

Was. Was this thing trying to comfort him?

The idea was enough to ground him into realizing that no, he had not been brought here to die. He'd been brought here for others to think he'd died.

"...Was there REALLY no way you could have warned me?!" he couldn't help but ask his savior.

The robot beeped in return.

From then on, any time he revealed he needed to go on a food run, the robot threw a fuss about making sure it went with him. It stationed itself right in front of craft services, blocking Noah from view while he took what he needed.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't grateful. There was no way in hell it didn't have some form of sentience if it choose keeping Noah alive rather than follow orders. So he went as far as to thank the robot. It felt like the least he could do.

He was proven wrong when, as usual, the Drama Bot got screwed over by a job.

Ever since the Drama Bot became the resident butt monkey intern, any time there were extra props they didn't want anymore for a scene, they'd make the Drama Bot return them into the prop room to store.

The Drama Bot lift its arms as high as it wanted to, but it couldn't reach the higher shelves. So a lot of the props were instead placed on the lower ones. This made the shelves more bottom heavy than they should be. Which wouldn't be a problem if anyone else came in to redistribute the weight. But why do that when you could have a robot keep doing the work?

Noah saw the shelf collapse happen a mile away. He would always make sure that he wasn't standing on any shelves that the bot was actively working on. This saved Noah from a crushing death when the inevitable happened.

It did not save the Drama Bot that had things break even its hard shell, exposing wiring and something else that was harder to make out.

It was lucky enough that Noah saw it happen. Unfortunately, Noah couldn't exactly move things off to free the hunk of metal. They'd need a human for that, and all the humans were busy with filming. They wouldn't notice until they stopped for the day, and this robot was fritzing out.

The little meter went back and forth rapidly. It gave three short beeps, then three long ones, then three short, before devolving into one very long, loud beep in the hopes of getting someone's attention.

The thing was panicking, and Noah would be damned if he waited for the mercy of humans to stop it on its own accord.

He at least let the robot know that he was here. And that he'd get help. How he'd get help without getting caught was a mystery, but he would try.

He made his way back to the set. He needed an excuse for someone to go back to the prop room. Only way to do that was if a prop stopped working or went missing. Except they were filming, so all the props would be on set. Being watched with cameras. With humans moving about caring more about their lines than watching who they might be stepping on.

Easy peasy.

When he got back to set, he saw they were filming an action scene. Even more dangerous as movement was increased tenfold for those.

The plus side was that as it was an action scene, guns were involved. so long as one of those went missing, someone would have to go to the prop room for another.

Except, as to be expected, all the prop guns were already either with someone or in the scene. From what Noah could remember of reading this script, the protagonist's gun runs out of bullets, so he looks around to grab another.

The protagonist hadn't lost his gun yet, so there was still a chance for Noah to mess with that second gun.

It took pressing against the walls, scampering at just the right times to stay off camera, and the most stressful dragging in his life, but he managed to hide the gun away right as the protagonist went looking for it.

The director cut the scene in frustration and sent an intern to go get another prop gun. Noah held his breathe where he was hiding. Only letting go when the intern came rushing back screaming about the shelf collapse.

Due to his position with the hidden gun, Noah was forced to stay in position until they cut and he knew for sure the cameras were no longer rolling. He rushed his way back to the prop room, but they'd already mostly cleaned up the mess.

The Drama Bot was nowhere to be found.

They had to have taken it in for repairs somewhere. It had been looking rough. He hoped the repairs were only physical. He didn't want to think about what would happen if he lost the closest thing he had to a friend.

With luck, it would be back in a few days.

...Weeks. It was weeks without the Drama Bot. Noah cooped himself in the prop room more than ever before in the hopes of seeing the Drama Bot making a return. Nothing.

The only thing he got were rumors. Apparently the crew had seen something when they lifted all the crap off the poor robot. They were spooked. There was even something about lawsuits?

Noah didn't give a rat's ass about the gossip. He wanted his friend back.

It was two whole months of moping before something happened.

Someone came into the prop room. Noah heard footsteps but no wheels, so he just buried himself deep into his hiding hole. He wanted them gone so they could mope in peace.

The footsteps got closer. Great, they were going to re-use an old prop. His heart really needed an anxiety spike with them being closer than normal.

The spike became a stab in the heart as the footsteps stopped right in front of his hiding place.

"Little mouse? Are you in there?" The voice was quiet and raspy.

Noah's heart froze. They. They couldn't be referring to him. His worst nightmare couldn't be coming true, not as everything else had come crashing down around him.

The nightmare crouched down to reveal an emerald eye looking directly at Noah. Noah froze. There was nowhere to run. Hiding had done nothing. His brain was rapidly trying to figure out-

The human sighed in relief. "Thank god. I was worried you had been caught."

That was enough to give Noah pause. Because a random human, being worried? He acted as if he knew-

"Please come out," the human begged, "I have to know that you are real. I couldn't have just been driven mad inside of that robot suit."

That's when things clicked for Noah. There was only one robot he knew, and that robot had only gotten smarter when it had made its first return.

Noah dared to poke his head out to see Alejandro Burromuerto looking down at him.

It turned out that the season finale of Total Drama Dirtbags had resulted in a fire due to negligence. The rest of the cast had stuck true to their names and abandoned the burning building in an instant. Leaving Alejandro by himself, barely clinging onto life.

To avoid a lawsuit, the production company agreed to cover Alejandro's medical expenses. They just neglected to mention their version of 'medical expenses' was shoving a burned and battered body into a robot suit to allow him time to heal while still getting free labor out of him.

There was debate among executives about whether to actually bother letting him out of the suit given that no one else cared to come looking for him. Ironically enough, that falling shelf had saved him as it exposed parts of his body to multiple witnesses.

They had to let Alejandro out after that. The only reason he wasn't suing them to hell and back? He settled on a deal for an important acting job once he had PROPERLY healed.

"Why the fuck would you ever want to come back to work here?"

"It was the only way I could know for sure that I could come back to see you again. You kept me sane during everything. You saved my life. I could not abandon you."

...Oh. That was. That definitely made Noah feel something.

Alejandro had already signed a contract so he would be here for a while. And Noah had no reason to leave his home. Although it went against every shred of common sense.

They would just have to navigate this new friendship. Relationship? Situationship. As equals.

And each were more than happy to do that.

[madisonthetimewalker]

Got inspired by @loryn-art and decided to make some modern AU Wakfu headcanons because I always love making head canons when I see cool AU’s

1. Yugo cannot skateboard for shit. He always face-plants into the pavement (Adamai can skateboard and laughs his ass off at yugo’s misery)

2. Adamai is surprisingly good at baking, he can make a pretty good looking cake (if he try’s)

3.qilby has horrible fucking sleep schedule I cannot describe how bad it is but it is horrible.

4. Chibi is a morning person and has a decently sized ego.

5. Grougal has the best hair in the family (he gets it from his mom what do you expect?)

6. Shinonome (I cannot spell her name for the life of me oh my god) likes to live a cozy and organized life… qilby does not knowing the meaning of organized

7. Adamai works in retail and has clip on earrings (he doesn’t want to get his ear pierced again it sucked for him he hated it. I also have an example in one of my drawings!)

8. Phaeris is very very good at making sure shit doesn’t go down in the house. Mostly because he has a resting bitch face and I love it

9. Baltazar works at a daycare. He likes the job (quilby is not allowed near baltazar because of what happened in season 2, they will full on fist fight im dead ass)

10. Efrim isn’t very responsible with money (do not give him any he will spend it… and so will Nora)

11. Glip is often tired he has a pretty good sleep schedule (unlike qilby) but still often complains of being tired.

12. For mina I wanted to make her a teacher but since she was known to be basically a lawyer in Wakfu but I feel like a teacher would fit her as well.

13. Adamai doesn’t talk about his private life.. at all for that matter he keeps to himself a lot and you basically have to pester him to tell you what’s wrong.

14. Adamai has a creepy smile (this is canon.. oh my poor boy) and often times won’t smile in photos he just kinda grins and walks away.

15. Yugo has such horrible and I mean horrible taste in fashion (you can hear Adamai holding back tears in the background while Mina or Nora has to tell him to change or else he’s gonna scare their mother to death due to his shitty fashion sense.)

16. If you where to ask qilby about a specific historical event, he will tell it in such great detail it makes it seem like he was actually there.

17. The dragon bros cannot taste spicy foods (I heard somewhere since lizards are cold-blooded they can’t taste that thing that makes you taste spicy foods) so if you see grougal chowing down extreme spicy ramen don’t ask.

18. Efrim is very clumsy and often stubs his toes or accidentally hits something when he walks (everyone thinks he needs glasses but he has 20/20 vision this fucker just can’t walk straight)

19. I like to think Adamai is a bit of a nerd. In his own way of course (if you’re lucky you can catch him reading comic books in his room.. which is always locked)

20. Nora and Efrim collect random stuff they find on the ground and they have this huge stash of random shit. Nobody knows how long they have had this but god is it large

21. Glip can often be seen grading papers (I like to believe baltazar is a daycare teacher while Glip is a high school - collage teacher/professor)

22. Chibi does not know the meaning of “social cues” (and neither does yugo.)

23. Shinonome works at a flower shop (qilby doesn’t like flowers mostly because of bad allergies but he supports his sister anyway.)

25. Efrim hates having to work and I mean HATESSS it he will complain the whole time (Adamai is one step away from hitting him with a shopping cart at 100 miles an hour)

26. Yugo can’t focus for shit, but can surprisingly describe how to make a specific meal in great detail (alibert you have raised a good man.)

27. Phaeris is very good with solving puzzles and likes to do them in his free time, he says he enjoys the “thinking process”

28. Chibi is a horrible flirt if he sees a pretty lady and he wants to say hi? Immediately tripping and stumbling and accidentally embarrassing himself (grougal is laughing his ass off silently in a corner.)

29. (Can you tell I like Adamai?) he’s a pretty good babysitter although he isn’t a huge fan of it but he doesn’t mind helping people out.

30. Nora can’t roller skate while Mina is a fucking mastermind.

31. Baltazar and qilby can be seen giving the meanest fucking side eyes at family dinners (Adamai prefers to eat in his room. But once there’s drama he appears and watch’s from afar.)

32. Qilby has the worst back pain in the world.

33. For someone who can’t focus for shit yugo is an incredibly fast learner! And can learn anything in a matter of seconds (Adamai is often jealous out how quick of a learner he is.)

34. Glip doesn’t like being forced to work at such late hours but he has no choice (the curse of being a teacher)

35. Adamai often runs away from yugo when he’s at work. And yugo likes to chase him down for shits and giggles (yugo please he’s trying to do his job)

Great Lordy I have made so many! I might make some insert modern AU ones as well. Involving ecaflip and Xelor and the rest of the gods, I like to think they also live in the world of twelve but they don’t really show their faces (kinda like Greek gods? If you get what I mean)

Anyway I’m glad I got to share more headcanons! Have a great day!

[onyxbird]

The Bridgeport Cat Café

New Leverage AU, based on this video of someone from a cat café account introducing their cats and describing what types of crime they (allegedly) engage in:

Hardison bought them a cat café instead of a brewpub.

Parker thinks it's a great idea. As soon as Hardison shared the idea with her, she started planning out the incredibly elaborate system of climbing structures, catwalks, tunnels, and hidey-holes at both cat and human scale. Hardison wasn't able to implement all of her ideas, especially not before the rest of the team arrived, but he managed a lot, including purchasing the rest of the building the original café occupied and expanding into that space.

The renovated café quickly becomes known for the fact that it is both the physically largest cat café any of the patrons have encountered and that sections of it essentially double as an indoor play structure for both kids and adults.

Hardison, as someone with allergies himself and knowing Leverage would want to bring clients here, poured a lot of thought into the cat-free and "allergy-friendly" side of the café, where patrons can enjoy all of the café's food and beverage offerings, watch the cats, and even climb a limited portion of their signature human-sized "cat tree" while remaining separated from the cats by enormous windows. The two areas are served by separate ventilation and both have thorough air filtration. The cat-free side quickly becomes popular with the remote-work crowd who like to bring their laptops and watch the cats without any actually climbing on them and their work materials. (There are also customer-free portions of the building the cats can retreat to and optionally view the customers through glass.)

Eliot and Sophie, of course, say the idea is absolutely insane. Sophie's mostly ticked off about the unilateral move to Portland and them taking on the extra burden of a (weird, niche) business (although she makes little secret of being charmed by many of the cats themselves), but Eliot is particularly incensed about the difficulties of trying to run a café that's full of animals. "Running a good café isn't child's play, you know. You planning make food on site with cat fur everywhere? You think the Health Department's gonna stand for that? Sure, you can probably get away with some kind of automatic coffee machine and prepackaged food, but that ain't a café, that's an animal shelter with a damn vending machine."

His complaints trail off as Hardison steers him into the (newly renovated) kitchen, through the airlock-style double doors from a hallway not open to the cats, each with an automatic air curtain to keep cat fur as well as cats from slipping through. The other side of the kitchen has pass-throughs and doors directly to the cat-free side of the café. The gleaming new espresso machines are already in place, along with other basic kitchen equipment, although Hardison comments that he's still researching the best ovens and layout for baking all of their pastries on-site (the printouts and notes on his research are already bundled up and ready to be "spilled" on top of the materials for their next job, in front of Eliot).

The kitchen also features several plexiglass tunnels so that cats can watch the action in the kitchen without contaminating the space. Eliot will never admit, even under torture, to making squinty eyes and kissy noises at the cats that come to hang out with him while he cooks with no other humans around to see, especially when prepping pastry in the wee hours of the morning before anyone but the cats is awake.

Finally, Nate regrets having turned Hardison loose with free rein to pick the Portland HQ. When he suggested a restaurant or something as a front, he assumed he knew the limits of what that could entail--in hindsight, he's glad they didn't end up operating out of a Medieval Times* knock-off. He's performatively grouchy about the cats, yet never seems to chase away the ones that mysteriously end up on his lap during job planning. There's one particular "shoulder cat" that seems to love nothing more than riding around on Nate's shoulders during a briefing, occasionally punctuating particularly passionate sections with supportive meows.

Another quirk the café becomes semi-known for is the prominent lost-and-found counter where patrons can try to reclaim items that have vanished from their pockets, as the cats at this establishment seem to be oddly prone to pickpocketing...

*Consciously or not, Nate is on some level aware of how much Hardison and Parker would enjoy watching Eliot "joust."

[bnsni]

Megatron angst, you say?? Megatron is ashamed of the kindness the reader shows him and even more ashamed of the love that developed from that kindness. He remembers keenly how little he thought of organics, the devastation he caused to Earth. The billions of organic lives across the universe that were snuffed out on his command. He can barely stand to look at himself in the mirror. He buries himself in his duties to hide from that vicious guilt, but it doesn't help, not really. Megatron feels he doesn't deserve your affection. He doesn't realize his distance hurts you, if only he would open up to you.

IT'LL PASS

Megatron x gn!scientist!human reader

a/n : ooooh I love these kind of angst! so yummy and gobble-able. I stayed up late writing this. megatron angst be upon ye (if that's how the saying goes, anyways). hope you won’t mind me using this Au, SSAU, in case confused of the size difference.

warnings : little bit of fluff on first half, angst on the second (yipeee) 💀 this is so long, god help me.

[i]

He remembered the first time he met you.

Your hands clinched over his larger ones, tugging it down so you could peer on your toes to get a better look at his face, It took him a moment to register you, first it was the pliant flesh curled over his digits like vines, warm and soft then his head swiveled down with a jolt to meet your curious, wide unblinking eyes.

"Is this...Megatron?" Your eyes narrowed, focused — words, innocent yet simple, came off as almost dumfounded.

He doesn't know what to say.

A raise of his brows and the purse of his lips were all he could muster in response. You’re the walking embodiment of the species he sought to eradicate. To destroy. And yet, here you are, unfazed. Jumping on your toes, drumming your hands over his digits, pawing at his broad, mettalic arms like he was a specimen. Before he could reply, Ratchet grabs the scruff of your collar and yanks you away.

“Wha— hey! I was about to introduce myself!"

“That can wait until the actual debrief. Which is due time. Sorry about this, this one’s a bit of a loiterer.” He grumbles, then yanks you away to fall in step with his pace. “Stir up another problem in the lab and make it count. If Rodimus asks, I am not dealing with his moping about whether or not the body gets decimated or cremated.”

"Oh, come on! " You’re now half-way across the hallway, disappearing. Voices muffled. “It’s like, the size of my palm, Ratty. It’s real cute too, with the puffed out fur and all. We should keep it!”

“I don’t care if it’s the size of your brain. Drift thinks it’s some kind of miracle. Like spiritual miracle or something.” Ratchet grunts out. “Dispose it before someone like you could be infected and you’ve got bad allergies, remember?"

"But—"

“Don't fight me on this. Earth is miles away and I am not comm-ing the Liason Department with a petty issue like that!”

Your altercation disappeared, much the same as your figures, through the sliding door, where the squabble continued into what’s possible the lab the medic mentioned.

Megatron stares, slightly dumfounded as it swishes close and Magnus, for a large mech he’s incredibly a silent walker, teeters behind him, shuffling on his pedes.

“I see you’ve met the organic scientist. An interesting subject to behold, no?”

Rodimus is somewhere behind the duly appointed, a few steps back, moping with a scowl.

With a small wolfish grin, he managed. “I wasn’t aware you’re keeping pets.”

“Excuse me?” The sports car bristled, fists clenched, now already close. “Who’re you calling pets you—“

“Rodimus, please.” His tirade of a decent chewing out is halted by Magnus, whose arm is a barrier between the two, “ Ease down and stay in that corner until I’m done.”

"You're gonna let him say that?" A digit jabbed his way. “But he!—“

“Is trying to a rise out of you.” The bigger mech lays a terse hand over his shoulder. “You of all people should know that. Now, go.”

He’s surprised the younger mech even complied, given his role as the ‘co-captain’, Megatron assumed Magnus would be the one subverscient to his commands. With a scowl he whirled around, stomping away to whatever room deemed worthy of another tantrum. Magnus, however, swivels back with a firmer look, determined not to be swayed by his prodding.

“Discrimination is an offense.” He begins with a finger wag. The grey mech sags. Oh, not this again. ‘’ Any more remarks like that will terminate your stay here. The human you’ve met is the only one residing here in the Lost Light. I expect you to treat them with the same respect they'll have for you."

"Only?" He drawls.

"Many are still not fond of us. Take it a small step towards peace between organics, if you will. " Magnus said, craning his neck over the warlord’s shoulder in time for the med-bay doors to slide open again.

Ambulon steps out, First-aid beside him, and in that split second, he gets a glimpse of you haggling Ratchet at his desk. On your palms were the rat they encountered earlier. He could only assume you're fighting for it's refuge here with how you're assaulting ratchet with desperate puppy eyes and coddling the little rodent to your cheek.

Then the doors slide shut again.

“ In your habsuite are several books on Organic history. Optimus encourages amending tension between Organics and Cybertrinians. So, you can start there. And, while that may prove a bit difficult I hope it isn't an obstacle towards your..."

He struggled, not able to to find the word. Perhaps, repenting is too much of a long stretch so he settles on, “Your stay here.”

"I'll manage just fine." He says gruffly and turns on his heels.

There was something brimming inside his chest. A familiar tinge of energy, much the same when he used to regard Orion with the same kind of fondness.

It'll pass. He reminds himself. It's just a fleeting feeling. It'll pass.

[ii]

You’re like a shadow.

Quick to come, quick to leave — a passing blur.

From the corners to the hallways, you were always there, except he never had a chance to properly introduce himself. Why? He doesn't know why. After all, you were the first person who greeted him with enthusiasm.

The next time he met you was evening, if it was even considered that way, space was in a constant plunge of darkness, anyways. Magnus's caution not to dwell at the bar was indeed taken into consideration as well as disregarded with much care — since drinking is naturally prohibited during 'work hours', according to Magnus, a notion that is an always for him.

Swerve's was fondly quiet.

The rest had gone to ogle another 'off-world chick flick' Rewind proposed. One of those action packed, cheesy films mechs these days are so sodden for. Obviously, he turned it down, ignoring Whirl's attempt to provoke him for being a 'buzz-kill' (he dodged another blaster to the head in doing so) and slumped by a cubicle , nursing a drink he kept swivelling aimlessly in his servo. He watches the purple curl then crest, sloshing about, caking the rims dry. His mind, plagued.

Too caught up in the voices in his head, the swift yet gentle pitter patter of footsteps prodding towards the counter was unheard. It was only when you slid into the empty seat in front of him that he blinked, jolting much as he did when he first met you.

He eyed the datapads and pens cluttering on the surface, following your tandem, gloved hands gently pushing the cup of engex aside. A barrier no longer. You laced your fingers and leaned over, nose close to touching. When it appeared you've caught his attention, your eyes creased, much like a half moon and he finds himself faltering at the sight of the sun.

Though, he stood his ground by holding a firm gaze.

"I hope I'm not bothering you?" Your voice is low, like you're half-expecting Ratchet to pop out again and drag you away.

"Well..." Megatron swivels to his half opened book of the Autobot Code on the table. He still has, much to his chagrin, a thousand more chapters to go through and might as well spare himself from this heinous task and deal with Magnus's preaching.

"Not at the worst time you found me." He folds the book primly and sets it aside.

"Splendid! Is that, ah, how you say it there?"

"What?"

"How’s it going buddy! Or, what's got you up in a twist pal! Something like that. Magnus is always haggling me about 'conforming' to certain ranks with the way I speak. So, what does it?"

He stares at you for a moment, more accurately, staring down, brows pinched. You're awfully small. And not in a 'teeny, tiny, precious little pet' kind of way. His gladiator instincts overruled his prior thoughts and the heigh difference is so explicitly stark he could crush you with a mere swing of a fist. Why are you here? I could kill you. He's not so sure what to think of that. Though, his lower region can preach otherwise.

He should really stop drinking.

"You're not suppose to be here."

"Not quite."

The smile turns into a wolfish grin. It's only now he noticed you've plopped a black satchel on the table.

" Actually, to tell you the truth I'm old enough to be drinking. Hell, even mingling with the lot of you. It's just that, ah, the chemicals! Chemicals, am I right? It hurts the human brain. Makes it woozy. Real, woozy. Can’t think well. I don't know about you bots, cons, uh, there's more gosh, but you see I'm—"

"Referring to your presence." He crosses his arms, leaning back.

"Rodimus doesn't like you here."

The satchel flaps open with a click. You shrug. "Hm. That's a lot less fun, no? Guess he'll have to suck it up. Can’t keep me in a cage forever. I need my own breath of fresh air.”

He looks off to the side, forcing back an imperceptible smile. " Is that so? Whatever happened to conforming to ranks?"

"Ah, apologies, he'll have to handle shoving a stick up his tailpipe."

"You would prefer mingling with me than—"

" Obviously. It's a perfect time for our interview to start!"

.Megatron shifted slightly away, fighting the urge to frown. His digits drum the service, irritated.

"You're interested about the war." He states plainly.

"It's not much about the war, you see. It's, well more about the performers. No, wait not performers, the ah—“ You wag the pen in front of him, struggling to find the words, other hand fumbling to open the book. When you're unable to muster a coherent explanation, you settle on, "Short story, I’m a researcher. Journalist, even. Half-scientist? You get the gist."

Your eyes flicker down to the clutter of datapads by his side, an amused grin this time, " What's the point? I suppose you're already aware of my name, then?"

He feels his faceplates burn. The many datapads you caught contained the ship's dwellers and one, sticking out from the others, is your profile. It was a harmless dive, but with how blatant his stylus circled your picture a deep red, he knew he was in too deep. He clears his throat, a swift digit nudged the rim aside and it's hidden under the others.

"A bit of curiosity isn't too much of a harm these days." He doesn't shake your outstretched hand but taps your palm with his digits. "What would you like to know?"

The touch lingered. You smiled.

"You."

[iii]

He's not sure what to think.

Several weeks after the incident at the bar there's been a routine he's now accustomed to. Wake up, have a cup of energon, haggle both Magnus and Rodimus before making his rounds around the ship. (Succumb to dirty looks from mechs, as well). Then, it's only then he's able to spend time with you in the confines of his habsuite.

The first time was very uncomfortable. He's twiddling his thumb like a schoolboy as he’s perched on the edge of his birth, glaring at the floor while you're sprawled on the couch, scribbling whatever he uttered onto the paper like it's a holy scripture.

He needs to say something.

Anything to keep the conversations aflow. The sessions were about two hours long — three if it became a little more in depth — and he finds himself short circuiting when you’d throw in an ‘joke’ or two. Apparently, he missed the joke. It flew right over his head. When the rest of the conversation fell off awkwardly, it's only then he realize how inept at casual conversation he is.

"I suppose you can say the commodities there were made were satis-factory." He pauses for a moment, letting it simmer.

You blink a little, the one in your hand twirls for a moment before your palms clutched your mouth, hunching over the chair, shoulders heaving. There was a pleasant sound from your lips. Is that—

"Are you laughing?" He asks, strangely offended.

"Sorry, it's just— mhmaha, eheahag. Hehehnskslk,” You gathered yourself but the cheeks still twitched. “. Is— is that, like, a pun. Are you punning?"

He gave in, looking away. “…Magnus urged me to be a lot less ‘stiff’ with how I deliver certain….statements. ”

“So, you went with puns.” The pen nudges his cheek, playful.

He swats it away with a chuff. “We were discussing about industrial propaganda during the early courses of the war, it’s only appropriate that I put that in.”

“How many more have you got under your sleeve, megs?"

From his faceplate, a small smile cracks. “If you have enough time to spare.”

[iv]

When he looks at you, he's reminded of Orion.

Compassionate yet strong-willed. Accepting yet firm. Perhaps it's because you're as youthful as the first conjure of a star or perhaps he likes to believe that you are. You innate curiosity for knowledge, your naive recklessness for danger; determined to be the hero, despite lacking — it worries him.

In what way does it so?

Sometimes, he half expects you to emerge as a different person. One day, a bright smile on your face, the other, a facade. Your true self. He finds himself dawdling towards the mirror, scrutinizing his faceplate. The creases and wrinkles that amass his grimace, they eased into a gentle smile when he thinks about you.

It’s the little things that gets him.

Your hand on his arm when you speak, the focused adoration in your eyes when he goes on another tirade about his poems, or when he’s particularly feeling a bit sour, you’re always there with your own two cents which breaks a smile out of his face — it makes him feel something he doesn’t want to prod.

“Energon?”

He stares at the outstretched cup, his other servo is cradling his temple, migraine induced. He’s at his desk, hunched over a datapad, stylus working with abandon when you came in, the brief respite of luminescent light flaring his room stark before it shrouds dim again. Everyone had clocked in for the night. Magnus left a few hours earlier. You, on the other hand….

“How…how did you make this?” He’s dumbfounded, watching as the purple swirls around his reflection.

You declare proudly with a puff of your chest. “Being a scientist, you can pull off a few strings or two to get it. Though, I did almost combust a ‘certain’ contraption trying to filter off raw energon. Brainstorm's instructions aren't easy to read. I should really stop trying to crank up the generator to max….”

“Please, i implore you — don’t do that again.”

You shrug, a little grin.He vents. Guess he’ll have to tolerate you for the time being. You set the cup of energon on his desk and peered over a little.

“What’re you up to?”

He feels his face burn. “Annotating the next poem you requested. For our next session. You…wanted to see my earlier poems and their possible significance."

There was a bright twinkle in your eye — too bright he swiveled away for a moment.

“May I?”

“If you have time…”

[v]

It appears interviewing isn't your only vice.

Off you go to expeditions outside the Lost Light, floating about on meteors, wrangling native plants from native planets, returning to med-bay, sometimes, with parched gloves that're burnt at the tips and hair a different color from the chemical abrasions.

Megatron sometimes finds himself on the gurney instead with how much pressure his spark is taking its toll.

Once, he's startled off his armor when you tapped the window from the outside, mouthing about how Brainstorm probably started another fire in the east wing.Safe to say it wasn’t long before the fire reached him. And, you’re the one chipping off the burnt metal parts from his arm, gently cradling his servos.

It's just a little brain worm, he tells himself. Another delusion he conjures because he's so desperate to feel something — anything to contradict his guilt. Your touch is nothing but miniscule and yet he finds himself in front of laboratory often, and he'd look lost when you're greeted at the sight of the warlord dawdling in front of the lab, another excuse concocted on the spot to deter you from the possible reason.

"Isn't he a little too keen on experiments like these?" Perceptor mutters. "I didn't realize he's fond of...whatever new shenanigans they've made. If anything, I surmise an ulterior motive."

"Oh, let him be." Brainstorm waves him off dismissively. " There's no harm in finding new hobbies. He's an ex-warlord let 'im live. Besides, I heard he wanted to be a medic once, can you believe that?"

"Until the day I die, no."

"Oh, Percy, you bore."

"Please, don't even go there "

Megatron blinks as you set down a pink vial on the desk, your own hands gripped his own with a vice, tugging him along to your experiments. Your scruffed up lab coat is half-burnt at the sleeves and the bubbling beaker by your side is driving him up the wall. Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation, whatsoever?

"So, I was working on the prospect of dying acids, right? Not, die die, as in, well, dying. Die as in coloring. Trying so that when they explode it explodes a certain type of color. Neon, too! And here, take a look at this—"

You're ranting. Mouth moving, not stopping. He can't seem to focus. You're so much smaller. Just below his torso, fun-sized, easy to hold and when he's touching your soft parts —you guide his hand to pry open whatever contraption-lock you're making, he finds himself flinching.

You're so...soft.

"I'm what?" You say, yelling over Brainstorm's loud generator resounding across the room.

You're squinting, straining to hear. He wants to peel the goggles away. He wants to see your eyes.Wants to the see the way the luminescent lights freckles off the white like sparkles. He clears his throat, jabbing a finger to whatever contraption he can set your mind on, not at how his faceplate is burning much as the generator is.

"That doesn't look safe."

"That's because it's a bomb." Perceptor emerges behind you both, a scowl on his face, and paid no mind to his startled expression as he makes a beeline towards the other scientist, struggling to hold the generator together. There's a distance muffled yelling and shuffling. You both stare at them, unmoving.

"You build bombs."

"Unethical, I know."

He whirls to look at you; you're focused elsewhere. "That's not what I meant."

"Okay, okay. I might've lied a bit on that Journalism thing. But hey, I've got to make meet ends right? Hm? Megs?” You look around. “Where’d he go?”

[vi]

"What's this?" He's snapped out of his tirade, swivelling his gaze from the dome-ish greenhouse he's been ogling at to you crouched near the pot, gloved hands shoved inside the soil.

He remarks bitterly. "I pour my heart out and you're pulling out weeds?"

"Yup. Wanna help?"

They're in your personal laboratory for today. Given the amount of flora and fauna strewn about the room, Ratchet remarked it was like a greenhouse of some sort. Megatron vents, lumbering from the chair and towards your form. He snagged the recording pen from the table, clicked it and dropped it into the satchel

So much for a moment of heart to heart.

"What's this?" His digits curls out, prodding the petal of the bud, clutched between your palms.

Even when he's crouching, he's still towering over you like a building.

You smile up to him, child-like. "A new kind of flower I made."

"Really, now."

"Oh, come on hear me out."

"If it's complete and utter jargon to mess with my circuits — don't even try."

"Fine, fine, fine. I'll keep it simple."

With a snap of your finger the room became dim and from a pot, you plucked out a flower. It wasn't, however, a normal visage of one. Megatron slowly extends his palm, cradling the plant like it was crystal. The petals are glass like; it sparkled blue, frolicking purple. Against his chassis it glew, a faded tinge of color on the gunmetal grey. His face eased into a smile.

"This is....fascinating. How did you make this? Don't answer that. You'll only give me a headache." He tries to clamp a servo over your lips but you duck away. "Even so, I have no words to conjure... how much I feel about this. What implored you to create such a remarkable plant?"

" Your poem."

He raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?"

"The one where you compared sparks to flowers. In a way, I do see that too." You gestured around. "My own world is like a garden. And i like to keep my garden clean. Weed out the bad stuff, put in the good stuff. But sometimes, new flowers grow amongst the old, and when they do..."

You look up to him with a small smile. "They bloom into something beautiful."

It took him a moment to understand.And when he does, his spark thrummed for a desperate plea for touch. Without thinking, his digits find your chin and reels you close.

He thinks about this often. Your kindness wasn't because you were simply kind. It's because you believed everyone had a chance.

He doesn't deserve one.

It's like everything clicked together. The sullen memories strung itself into shape, now etching across his processors. Limb, lifeless bodies across barren land. Blood smeared the soil dark crimson. What is he doing? This is shameful. Shameful of him. The very species he sought to kill, to snuff out, to eradicate. The wide, spanning field of flowers. Blue, hauntingly beautiful. Those were the lives lost.

You could’ve bloomed amongst them

He shoved you away, not to harshly but in a manner of surprise, jolting much as he did when he first met you. His shoulders grazed the pot on the table as he stood and it toppled to the ground. The shards crackled, breaking on impact. Soil a barrier, sprawled between you both.

His own anger flared, fists clenching.

“Woah, there. Something wrong? Did you get pricked?”

Megatron says nothing as you clean up the mess. Hands plucking the shards off the ground, rambling again. "Man, your shoulders are really wide. Not as big as Mangus's but still, they're like a whole wall of—"

"You should hate me."

You freeze, the shards paused halfway down into the duster, tipping a little over the edge.

Megatron kept his gaze to the floor. He needed to tell you this. He needed to remind you now. He's not what you think he is, and just because he's had his moment of respite with you, he's still, and will always be the Megatron who sought domination through means of violence, ethical or not.

"I know."

Your face smoothens out a moment before it eases back into a smile. The gentle kind.

"I killed your people. Eradicated thousands of them. Torn through vibrant planets, decimated floras, faunas, and life that teemed in those regions. I hurt nature. I hurt it's mother."

"I know."

"Then, why are you so subverscient to your own compassion? Why not take your anger out on me?" He takes a domineering step forward. "I don't understand. A person can't be this forgiving."

"Because it's wrong." You say simply. "Because it won't do anything. Look, just because you think I'm nice to you doesn't mean Im not aware of what you did.Even if I get to break several joints off your sockets, would that get me anywhere? If anything, it'll make me more miserable."

”You’re naive.’’

The flower no longer crackled. No longer bright. Like the broken pot, it lay shattered on the ground, glinting.

"If that’s how you see it..." You trail off, eyes creasing into a frown. "Is this about the poem? I didn't mean to overstep—"

He whirled away without a word. "I need to go."

[vii]

He can't get you out of his mind.

Day by day passes. From night to morning to dawn, he finds himself plagued with thought hes not able to comprehend.

Everytime he wakes up, there's this urge. He finds himself wanting to see you. He steeled himself, however, walking past you when you approach. Answering in clip tones when you ask. Magnus notices he's in his office a lot more recently, pouring through the mountains of datapad like he's on a grip.

"You should rest, Megatron." He tells the captain once.

What returned however is a grunt. Neither affirming nor denying. The enforcer frowns. He'll have to ask you about it. And yet a quick look to the scientist deters his thoughts. You're less bright and while you still have the amiable streak it appears as though you're forcing a grin through it all. Something must've happened. A fight, more preferably. That led to him confronting Rung about it, and the psychiatrist confronting Megatron — in a less subtle way, of course.

The warlord tells him it's just a brain worm, something eating at him for a while.

Something passing,

"I do think that is something quite more." He mutters, stylus crossing another scribbles on the datapad. "Given your nature with the former it's only normal to feel shame to such sentiments. Inter-species relationships dwell on that complication a lot. I get questions regarding guilt, betrayal of their own race and the unethicalities of it all. The only significant point here, however, is how you're willing to approach this problem.”

Rung, straightens his goggles. “How would you like to look at it?"

Megatron ponders. He thinks. Gears churning, scheming. Silent. He wants it to be something more yet he wants it to be nothing beyond what they are. How can he, a warlord whose actions eradicated almost half the cosmos, bring himself to feel even a minuscule hint of happiness? No, he can’t. He doesn’t deserve any of this. It's not like you feel the same.

"Nothing. It's just a fleeting feeling. It'll pass.

"Surely it can't be that easy to put aside."

Megatron frowns. "What, you don't think I can do it?"

Rung pulls a terse smile, folding his fingers over his lap.

"t’s not a matter of whether or not you can do it…" he trails off, unsure. It appeared as though he wanted to say more with how his lips part for a second. "But if that's how you would like to proceed, I am not forcing you. After all, your feelings wouldn’t fare better if I do. The choice is yours."

."I think it's best I keep my distance.

Rung seems a little distraught at that. "Perhaps it's better that you don't. Your feelings, they’re not something you can toy around with such ease. And while they're indeed very complicate, avoiding them is—"

"Don’t pretend to understand how I feel.” Rung flinches at the sudden venom in his tone. “I know how to deal with this. I just need time. Time…time is all I need.

It'll pass. He tells himself.

It never does.

[sarifel-corrisafid-ilxhel]

I am now thinking more about the Jurassic Park/World - Animorphs crossover AU (Dinomorphs?). It has stuck in my head like a bad song and I can't get it out.

InGen and any of the other companies involved with making the dinosaurs would be taken over by the Yeerks almost as soon as the Yeerks arrive. These companies have biological engineering capabilities approaching the level of the Arn, but on a much better planet. The Yeerks would be salivating over that.

Following on from this: Hybrid dinosaurs like the Indo-series Rex and Raptor or the Stegoceratops from the video games are probably Yeerk projects. The Yeerks are looking for ways to create more shock troops to unleash on the Andalites.

Similarly, we could expect to see even more interesting hybrids involving alien DNA. Velocihorks and Pterotaxxons and Geddosaurs. I imagine most of these hybrid projects would be failures that illustrate the depravity and utter inhumanity of the Yeerks, like the failed Aquatic Hork-Bajir project.

Dinosaur-controllers, mostly with medium-sized dinosaurs that can function as guards or shock-troops but aren't too big to fit inside of Yeerk ships. As much as Visser Three would love to have Tyrannosaur-Controllers on the payroll, they're just too big and their arms too tiny to be useful to the Empire on a day to day basis. (I imagine this is the same reason the Yeerks can't deploy the giant monsters on the Hork-Bajir homeworld to other planets - their spaceships just can't hold the critters, there's not enough room.)

Visser Three, of course, would have all the big dinosaur morphs. He can bypass the "too big to fit" limitation thanks to Alloran's morphing ability.

Because the Yeerks have to use smaller dinosaurs in their ships and Yeerk Pools, the Animorphs could still use their regular battle morphs (or in Ax's case, his normal Andalite body) for a lot of the fighting, if they aren't able to acquire dinosaurs themselves. And if Visser Three turns into something too big for them to handle, they can do what they usually do and run.

If the dinosaurs have escaped into the wild before the Animorphs get into the war, then smaller dinosaur morphs could be acquired at Cassie's barn.

Following on from the last point - if Cassie has any mid-size theropods at the Barn, or if there are any at The Gardens, then Tobias definitely gets stuck as one of those instead of a hawk.

How would the chimeric DNA of the dinosaurs affect morphing allergies? What if Rachel burps up a Baryonyx or an Ankylosaurus because it has the part of the crocodile DNA that she's allergic to in it? Is this how we find out Jake is allergic to Tree Frog DNA?

Toby and the Free Hork-Bajir adopt a dinosaur early on. I don't know what kind yet.