#they are hybrids your honour

[angeart]

also if scar was just a cat he would be a cat not a human shaped cat since a human shaped animal is a furry if scar was simply a cat he would be shaped like jellie

well, he's human shaped because he's a cat hybrid but that word does get omitted kbnkskfj.

we have an au which is mumscarian cat (hybrid) au. they're all cats cat hybrids, but different. scar is a hairless cat, mumbo is a regular cat (black, with white spot under his nose looking like a moustache), and grian is a fluffy ginger cat.

—hybrid. cat hybrid. mhm. that.

they each have their own struggles and experiences and perceptions and i love this au to bits.

but a jellie shaped scar napping and purring in a cuddle pile with jellie also sounds nice.

[dragonwhisper23]

tell me about a fun bird please

Oh do I have the fun bird for you!

So in my local area we have a few different large parrot species, but the two relevant to this story are Sulfur Crested Cockatoos and Long Billed Corellas. They’re temperamental destructive birds that I absolutely adore.

Now the theory I have goes, is that during nesting time, there’s a limited amount of hollows in my area (less old growth trees nowadays, more urbanisation of the rural area I live in) and as such they’re in high demand and fiercely competed over.

And sometimes you can get one of the species chasing the other out and off their eggs and then laying their eggs in the nest, eventually raising both their young and the orphaned eggs. And when this happens the resulting adult is more interested in a mate from their adoptive flock rather than they own species. Which is what leads us to our Fun Bird.

A wild Hybrid of the two!

This guy has a weird mixed phenotype of the two original species, with the markings, blue eye ring, and crest shape of a long billed corella and the beak, crest colour and size of a Sulfur crested cockatoo, and a mix of the red and yellow in colouration that results in this lovely orange. They follow the local migration of the Sulfur Crested Cockatoo and Long Bill Corella flock and as spring starts, they arrive in my backyard.

As such, I have a number of photos of them, and even watched one year when they had a mate with another Sulfur Crested Cockatoo.

Now before you say, “Are you sure this isn’t some stray citron crested cockatoo?” Believe me that was my first guess when this unusual bird appeared in our backyard. But the hybrid only resembles that species in crest colouration and otherwise none of their markings, size or body shape match up with otherwise described species. And it’s also too far south for a Citron, so the current explanation for their unique appearance is a hybrid.

I would love to have the chance to actually study them up close, perhaps even testing to see if they are truly a hybrid and where they go when they’re not hanging out in my backyard but alas I’m not a bird scientist (yet) just a big bird enthusiast. I’ve even painted this unique visitor to my backyard

Photo credits to both me and Nora Peters, my Nana

[atrashmammall]

Tommy had often wondered what life would be like if he had wings of his own. He had seen people walking down the street; long deep blue wings with flecks of white like stars, short black wings that seemed they would barely hold the persons weight and yet they did, flash golden wings that he was almost certain were not their natural colour but who was he to judge.

It wasn’t uncommon, something similar to the genes for hair colour or eye colour, every now and then you got the gene for wings, or maybe it was for horns, or antlers, hooves, any number of different traits and characteristics could be found among the sea of people he knew.

He often wondered what having wings would be like.

Turns out it would be quite inconvenient. Read more here!

Or, that fic where tommy wakes up with wings and needs some help figuring out how to use them! This was part of a found family event i did and the creators of the event as well as the person it is gifted to are tagged in the fic! Enjoy!!

[imasadidiotpart2]

I'm not reposting the summary for my OCs, so I'm making a new fresh one.

Hunter/Hunt (he/they): Half vampire-half werewolf (Werepire) in his mid 20s. He's non binary. He is deaf, autistic, has bipolar disorder, Multiple Sclerosis, Scoliosis and Vitiligo and uses a cane to help with mobility. He has a twin brother named River (Riv for short). He is also the proud cat dad of a male neutered sphynx named Khonshu. He used to work many jobs, from diner chef to some NSFW stuff and as a pet attendant at a animal rescue shelter. That's where he got his cat. He currently owns a family shop with his husband and likes to knit, sew and make clothes and he even does drawing, painting and pottery. He's overdramatic, clingy, hot headed and sometimes a brat, but overall he is kind, gentle, and caring. If him or his loved ones are threatened, he'll show off his "less gentle" side.

I have an AU, where he and Riv are the sons of the OCs of another preg/belly kink artist that I love so much and you'll see that soon.

River/Riv (he/they): Hunter's twin bro, who's a few minutes younger (yes, he's also in his mid 20s). Is also non binary. He is only autistic and depressed. He doesn't have the rest of the disabilities his twin has, but is very supportive. He works as a nurse, but manages to find time for himself and his family. Shares the same interests and personality as Hunter, but he's more braver and rougher than his twin. He struggles with conceiving a child, while Hunt is quite fertile.

Both twins loves alt fashion, are confident with themselves and embrace their feminine sides. They aren't overly feminine, but they aren't masculine either. They lean more towards androginy. They are both introverts, are very close and they have a strong spiritual and emotional bond. They never understood rivalry or hatred between siblings and they swear they sometimes can almost read each other's minds. They are also very good at cooking.

Grant Goodman (He/him): Hunter's "bear" hubby. A werewolf in his late 20s. He lost his left arm, left eye, and got a bad knee from a contruction site accident. He now owns a workshop with Hunt. He likes movies, is more extroverted, family oriented and often overprotective of his hubby. He likes to do stuf with his hands (cook, build stuff, repair etc), so he is rarely idle and keeps himself and his hands occupied. He met Hunt at a disability support group after both got out of some toxic relationship. Since then they are inseparable. Both want to start a family and they want kids, but Grant worries for Hunter and how he'd handle pregnancy with his disabilities (Hunt can do just fine don't worry). He's overall outgoing. He's friendly and gives the best bear hugs. He's extremely fierce towards anyone that hurts his family.

[hybbart]

In honor of the new update, what is your take on a potential Breeze hybrid? Similar to a blazeborn, but wind instead of fire.

So this is one of those things where it's a wind elemental and I love wind elementals so much that I will never be satisfied with a design I make for them even if I draw it 50 times. That said, here's a really quick take of breezeborn Tango. I expect him and Decked Out 3 to be breeze/sky themed in honour of the fact he plans on finding a way to get them into DO3. I'd say a sky steampunk theme would be cool but he's already doing that this season, so who knows...

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 4

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt

-🐺-

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, mutt?”

Your breaths were coming in hard pants, your body was worn to shreds. It took everything in you to look up at the angry face above, and when you finally mustered enough strength to tilt your head, you were met with deeply disapproving eyes. For once they didn’t rattle you, you’d already seen something so much worse. 

“She’s dead,” you murmured, looking back down at the empty eyed body across from you. 

“And you’re about to be too if you don’t get yourself together, stupid dog!”

You’d been yanked up and forced to keep running, shoved out in front of corners and into oncoming fire. It was a miracle you hadn’t joined your old teammate on the floor - not that you really saw it that way. You drew the enemy’s fire and allowed your current handler to get to exfil unharmed, you in your sorry hollow state had been shot in the chest, or the vest rather. Either way you were terribly struggling to breathe when you were eventually lugged along into the helicopter. 

It was difficult to remember much in the days after that. Your memory was a blurry haze, tugged along and shoved into transport and various different rooms until you were abandoned in an infirmary to heal. 

The main thing you remember is how the tiger girl you’d been fighting alongside had fallen, and no one else had batted an eye. She had been one of the best hybrids you’d worked with, someone the soldiers had clamoured to get onto your team, and none of them gave a shit when she’d died. The same girl that had so earnestly been teaching you and given you valuable advice for the field was no more than a few hazily remembered lessons and an empty vessel. 

The thought burned in your mind when you’d laid on the hospital bed, keeping your eyes narrowed to tiny slits and your tail twitching as you recovered. You’d been too young to actually be assigned to a combat mission, but you’d been sent along with the unit that day because they thought they were doing a routine water run to a nearby village and they’d wanted you to observe.

Now you were marred with your first battle scar and laden with the knowledge that it didn’t matter how good you did - you’d be nothing more than a pile of bones left behind to rot. 

-

“Move along, mutt!”

Maddox loomed over you and smacked you with his club, sending you sprawling as you refused to run his training drill. You’d since recovered and been cleared for work once more, but that was just what the doctors said. You had a different opinion entirely. 

“I’m not doing this,” you said quietly, hefting yourself back up to a standing position. 

“What?” Maddox’s voice came through in a chilling growl.

The sounds of the rest of the hybrid’s running the training exercise he’d set echoed all around you. You watched them scrambling around, flying through the course like clay pigeons, and blinked slowly. They were all just training to be better canon fodder. What was the point? You were all going to meet the same end, whether you died honourably fighting or were shot down into a pink mist from where you stood, no matter how good any of you were it wouldn’t matter. You’d all just die anyway. 

“You heard me,” you growled, puppy voice still too young to actually have much of an impact. 

Maddox wasn’t used to being defied. From day one you’d all tried to do what you could to appease him, had run around trying to make sure you weren’t drawing his ire. None of you liked his horrible booming voice when he scrambled at you, you were all afraid of his club and being at the receiving end of one of his thrashings. What was the point? 

He looked incensed, he was the most angry you’d ever seen him. He smacked you a few more times, landing heavy blows onto your back, thighs and butt, but you weren’t anymore motivated to get going. Instead you lay uselessly on the ground and cried out, ears drawing back as you prepared for his worst. 

“Get the fuck up! Do as you’re told, dog, no exceptions. Now move!”

You whined, but stayed where you were. Even while your back was on fire, even while he still beat dents into you, you didn’t feel anymore convinced to go along with any of it anymore. You just wanted to give up. To stop having to live through the pain, and just accept that it would be all there was. 

In the back of your mind you registered that everyone had stopped running, could feel the ground stop rumbling with their desperate footsteps and had all stopped to watch the spectacle. Though you didn’t really think much about it. 

It took a few more blows, but eventually Maddox seemed to recognise that you were quite happy for him to mash you into a fine pulp. His lesson wasn’t having any effect. So he left you on the ground and walked away a few paces, his shadow falling over your face and draping you with the weight of it. 

You choked out a sob and watched as he addressed the room. His words weren’t immediately intelligible to you, you were too lost in your brain fog still. Everything was dull, and noises were like far away recordings playing on scratchy speakers. Your head was a swelling water balloon fit to burst. 

“-see what happens when you decide you’re not going to do what your commanding officer tells you.”

Thwack.

You heard the sound, but you didn’t feel anything. You tilted your head, ears twitching confusedly as you tried to work out why the pain didn’t reach you. The sound of the wailing banshee scream following soon after clued you into why your bones weren’t rattling with anymore pain. 

“Please, sir! Please!”

It was like a plastic sheet had been melted from your eyes. The white hot screech of the voice burned through you and you scrambled up with a shock, watching on with horror as one of your fellow hybrids was getting whacked like nothing else. A wheezing breath gushed in through your lungs and you screamed in unison with the poor boy, begging Maddox to please stop. 

“Oh now you’re willing to plead for forgiveness? Now you’re ready to participate again? Watch and let this be a lesson - You don’t decide when you’re done! You do as you’re fucking told!”

“No! Please, no! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Sir. Please, please ple-”

-🐺-

“Hey, Pup, hey, shhh. Wake up, Pup.”

You felt raw, throat vibrating with the last of your unconscious screams, your mind raced as you struggled to register your surroundings. Soft lamplight bathed the room in a warm, hazy glow, and all around you were rumpled blankets, all thrown around the place in splatters of blue as if a tower of paint cans had exploded. Most startling of all though, was the behemoth of a man right in front of you; sitting on your bed and looking down at you with a worried expression. 

You backed away to the wall when you finally noticed him, panting and growling like hell when you searched through your bleary mind and couldn’t recognise him. His eyes were like molten gems, his long face and pouting lips drawn into a picture of concern. There was something almost familiar about him, if you squinted and ignored the shock of blonde hair that gently curled on top of his head (something told you that you weren’t used to seeing that). The only thing that stopped you from jumping him immediately was the calming scent of citrus peels. 

“Who the fuck are you?” you growled, curling your hands into fists. “What do you want with me?”

The man blinked slowly, his eyebrows raising from the gentle frown he’d been wearing and twitching up into surprise. He smiled uneasily then, the look seeming foreign on that big scarred up face, one of the scars at his lips puckered with the effort it took to move over the muscle. 

“Shit, sorry. It’s me, it’s Ghost,” the man sighed, his accent washing over you like a warm wave. “Forgot my mask.”

You gasped, feeling all your muscles release their tension at once as you slid down the wall and into a weary slump. It was ok. He wasn’t some horrible soldier come to drag you away to a new mission, or an enemy looking to startle you before they bagged a kill. It was just Ghost, and Ghost was safe. And Ghost looked… well you were too tired to really get a solid grip on what you thought of how Ghost looked.  

“What are you doing in here?” you asked, only speaking when you were confident you wouldn’t stutter. 

“You were screamin’, Pup. You looked like you were fighting off possession or somethin’, that must’ve been some bad dream you were having,” Ghost said softly, gently running a hand over the top of your dewy head. 

You gritted your teeth and used the butt of your palms to wipe the stray tears from your cheeks, still feeling your throat burn from all the shrieking. It had been a long time since you’d had one of those dreams, or rather memories, but you knew well enough you’d have been loud. You realised you’d probably woken him if he was coming to you bare faced. 

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, tail tucking between your legs in realisation.

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured, bringing his hand down to stroke over your cheek. “I’ve woken up with plenty of those myself.”

“But you…you’ve shown your face to me when you didn’t mean to. I’m sorry,” you sighed, looking away guiltily. 

Your toes curled and your body froze up, your instincts gone haywire as you tried to process what was happening. Was he going to punish you now? Would he beat you until you forgot what he looked like? You shuddered at the thought of your dreams piercing through into reality. 

“No, don’t be sorry, darlin’. I’d have taken it off for you sooner or later anyway,” he shrugged. 

You bit your lip, unconvinced that this was the case. Given that his team didn’t think much of the mask, it was clear that he wore it often. He probably didn’t like to be bare faced around other people. Maybe he wanted to keep his face a secret. 

“Didn’t think it’d effect you this much,” he chuckled, chucking you under your chin. “I did warn you.”

“You warned me?”

“Mhmm. Told you I was bloody handsome.”

Nothing could help the snort that burst from your nose. That then descended into full blown laughter, your body lightening from the growing load that your mind posed. You wrapped your hands round your knees, in an attempt to contain the giggles, and only stopped when you saw the gentle smile that sprouted back onto Ghost’s lips. 

“There you go. Better now, huh?”

You nodded slowly and smiled back at him. For some reason mirroring him felt like the easiest thing in the world. It was like a warm glow had burst from him to you, softening your sharp thoughts and turning your body to jelly. You’d be able to sleep again as if nothing had woken you, usually you would stay up until light broke through your curtains. 

“You wanna talk about anything before I get back to my beauty rest?”

“No, I’m good,” you said hurriedly, not wanting to relive everything you’d dreamed again. 

“Alright then…You get back to sleep, you’ve got another big day ahead. Try not to scare the piss out of me again for another few hours at least,” He sighed. 

You nodded, scooting back over so that you could lie back at the head of your bed. However before you could angle yourself down, Ghost drew you into a side hug. At first you resisted it, curled your hands around his arm so that you could stop whatever harm might come your way, but when there was none. Your eyes grew heavier as he held you, his body heat seeped down into your bones and it tempted you ever deeper into the restful darkness.

You let your hands drop and nuzzled into him. There wasn’t anything to fear. 

“S’my good, Pup,” Ghost mumbled, releasing you seconds later. 

You sank into bed afterwards, falling into a deep sleep as if a switch had been flicked. There were no more disturbances after that. 

-🐺-

“Not so hard, Steamin’ Jesus!”

Soap’s whizzed right past your ears like a bullet, you were too focused on getting to the target point. Paintballs splattered overhead, loud noises rang out from the speakers that’d been set up, and your heart was racing. Everything perfectly combined to drive you wild and send all coherent thought elsewhere. The only reason you stayed put behind your current cover was because you knew Ghost was watching - because of some foreign underlying need to make him proud. 

“Johnny, you have to take control.”

“I’m fuckin’ tryin’! Your bloody sled dog has other ideas,” Soap huffed, growling down the line. 

Ghost’s chuckle rattled around the comms like a swarm of bats. The ever present hand on the front of your neck dug into your collarbone a little, but still you persisted and pushed forward through the resistance. Soap had no idea what he was doing, had no idea how to control your advancement through the fake field. 

“Sled dog tendencies aside, you’re not holding em’ right,” Ghost chastised. “Stop the exercise!”

The splat of the last paintball echoed dully around the room and all at once your more human senses returned. The sharp fuzz in your ears dissipated and the blurring at the edge of your peripheries came staggeringly back into focus. You almost sent Soap crashing when you stopped fighting his hold, though luckily for him he swivelled just in time to keep his feet on solid ground. 

“Fuckin’ here we go,” Soap muttered, releasing your collar. 

You frowned up at him in question, but you didn’t get an opportunity to wonder what he was so pissed about. Ghost jumped into the little arena he’d created and crossed the floor, patting your vest before he took a hold of you himself.

“You’re holdin’ Pup round the front like this,” Ghost said, sliding his hand around your collar to illustrate his point. “You’re just choking them and driving them forward to get away from ya’ or get to the checkpoint.”

“Because your precious little Angel keep’s growlin’ and turnin round when I hold the collar round the back like you do. I feel like I’m about to get my face rearranged again!”

Ghost sighed and put his hand on Soap’s arm, driving the other man to give a cursory glance down at you before fixing a hard look on the Lieutenant. There was no mistaking the sharp little shake of his head he gave, no matter how much he had tried to hide it. Ghost put his hand down, holding it up in mock surrender before it fell completely. 

“It’s because you’re holding on too tight, Johnny,” Ghost explained, his voice growing softer. “You don’t have to. Pup won’t hurt you.” 

“You sure about that?”

“Johnny,” Ghost growled. “Don’t say anything stupid, now.”

You looked up, alarmed at the tone Ghost was taking. You didn’t really blame Soap, or anyone else, for being afraid of you. A lot of people were - anyone who knew your reputation at least, and from that little comment you surmised that Soap was well aware of it. Though from the way Ghost was acting, it was as if Soap had told him he was going to shoot you. His eyes were stuck in a stormy glare and his full height was rigidly stretching up over the Sergeant. 

“You know this is difficult for me,” Soap said, jaw as taught as a piano wire. 

“I know…” Ghost sighed. “But it’ll only be harder if you keep going like this, learning to control a wolf the wrong way will only get you both hurt. You’ve gotta dig deep here, push past the bad memories. This one’ll never hurt you like that.”

“So you keep saying,” Soap grumbled. “Why don’t you try tellin’ them to fuckin’ behave when they’re being handled rather’n having a go at me.”

A creeping feeling of shame crept through your mind, suddenly you felt like a very small child in the middle of a fight between your parents. The tiny little voice you hadn’t heard in so long chimed just as true as it did then, They’re fighting about me again. Your ears folded back straight against your head and you leaned closer into Ghost, accidentally catching eyes with Soap as he registered your movement. 

Soap’s eyes softened. 

“It’s not that simple. I have a plan in the works though,” Ghost said carefully, shifting his gaze to you as he felt you press against him, and then back at Soap. “It’s gonna take a bit to undo years of shit training, yeah? I told you how it’d be before, those shitheads at Branhaven always train up hybrids to look as showy as possible for their superiors. That means they pull like crazy and bark and growl up a riot while they work because it looks effective and scary to the knobheads who don’t need to handle them. I need you all to learn how to handle Pup as they are now before I’ve worked with them, and then you’ll be prepared for anything…’sides, its always you n me together, Johnny, remember? Realistically you’re not gonna have to actually handle them on the field, you just need to be prepared to.”

The ‘Just in case’ that eluded his last sentence was silent.

The whole time you couldn’t help dwelling on the fact that Ghost was unusually…tender for a man in charge over the Sergeant. Normally when people bitched at the higher ups in your base they’d be shouted at and told to man up or fuck off. Ghost was actually explaining himself to Soap, trying to rationalise what he was doing as if he somehow owed it to him. He treated Soap like he treated you, ensuring he was able to calm down and trying to fill him in so he could take comfort in knowing what was happening. 

The treatment seemed to work just as well on Soap as it did you. He huffed out a defeated breath and relaxed, looking from you to Ghost while the irate cloud above him dispersed and became lost in the gentle atmosphere. 

“Fine. Can you show me what to do again?”

“Atta boy,” Ghost said, grin evident in his voice. “Hand here, and legs nice and stable. You need to keep moving forward at a nice even pace, you have to set the right speed. Soon as Pup tries to push on ahead, you grip the back of their neck like that.”

You growled as you felt Ghost put pressure on your scruff, instinctively feeling the work drive build up within you. He just shook his head and gave you an unamused stare for your efforts. 

“The growling’s all just noise. Stupid noise,” Ghost said, intentionally setting his eyes on you, “but there’s no intention of threat behind it - not while we’re in charge.”

“What do you mean ‘not while we’re in charge’?” Soap asked, making a face. 

“Pup won’t have any reason to hurt us. We’re not gonna go yanking tails and hitting like fuckin’ children when we don’t get our way.”

“Wh- y’mean that was a commanding officer that did that?” Soap asked, motioning to your crooked tail. 

“Like I said - shit training. C’mon, take the collar.”

Soap didn’t quite look like he’d recovered from the shock of being told about your tail. He gingerly reached out and took your collar with a frown set heavily into his face. You wondered if it was because he really pitied you that much, or if it was because he thought you might take out your anger on him. You leaned more toward the latter reasoning. Despite his reservations though, he was able to do as Ghost asked this time. 

“Good, that’s it, Johnny.” 

Soap visibly puffed up from the praise. His grip on you tightened. He was more sure of himself now, he marched ahead and set you into an even pace, the rhythm catching onto your feet contagiously. Naturally there were still a few moments where you wanted to pull forward and rush through, but now that Soap was placing his trust in Ghost’s intuition, you were gently guided into keeping within his step. 

“Good Pup, keep it up!”

Soap didn’t immediately latch onto what Ghost had told him about your growling, he still wrenched himself back a few times after correcting you. The horrible tractor-like sound would comically twist his features. However this time, he was actually able to get to the checkpoint with you. Then after a few more trials, you were both flying down the course, high on Ghost’s praises and untouched by any paintball that tried to come your way. 

After the fourth time he called for a break, roughly crossing his hands into a T shape while he doubled over and panted and puffed for air. His signature sage scent wafted strongly from him now, invading your senses and forcing you back a step or two.

A discreet smile stole its way onto your face, a smug one if you were honest. There was a steady tension starting to warm in your legs, but you were no where near over extension. Apparently all the breakfast and rest you’d gotten had done you wonders, because you felt like you could keep going all day and all night, maybe longer than that. It made you wonder if maybe Price and Ghost didn’t have a point to all the nice things they were doing for you afterall. 

“You did well, Soap,” Ghost chuckled, wandering back onto the course with a swagger to his step. “You too, Pup. Reckon you’ll be nice and warmed up for Price and Garrick now.”

“Christ, Pup’s gonna do this two more times?” Soap asked, looking over at you in wonder. 

“Mhmm,” Ghost hummed.

“You not tired?” Soap asked, directing his question toward you.. 

You laughed at that, unsure as to why he’d be so shocked you were going to keep going. Normally you’d spend your whole days training when you weren’t on an active mission. Running and sparring were practically all you knew. If you were to tire out early, you’d be punished for it, blamed for not getting enough sleep or not eating your shitty MREs. Stopping wasn’t in the equation. 

“I can go all day,” you shrugged.

“Christ, and they tell me I’m hyperactive.”

-🐺-

Overall impressed with your performance that day, Ghost had insisted on dragging you out to a shopping villiage, or as you now thought of it - a torture desensitisation arena. Even later on at night, there were so many people around: screaming children that were moaning about being tired and hungry, teenagers laughing like hyenas, couples arguing over what they should and shouldn’t spend their money on. It didn’t help that there were so many busy shop fronts as well, colours and flashing lights and products you wouldn’t even know what to do with. It was a circus of too many stimuli and you were stuck at it’s roaring centre, sticking to Ghost like a fly on tape. 

As soon as he’d parked up you’d demanded to know why he’d brought you there, not able to help the rising panic at being taken somewhere new. He’d explained that it was time to buy you some much needed casual clothes. Personal items. At the mention of that dreaded subject, you’d tried to protest and remind him about getting your brand new stack of clothes from the quartermaster, but Ghost had just snorted and said that he wasn’t taking you everywhere in your uniform. He didn’t care for the looks it would get him - said the man wearing a black medical skull mask over his face.

Undeterred by your saying that he didn't need to waste money on you, Ghost all but yanked you into all clothes shops, leading you by the hand and forcing you to pick casual clothes that you liked from the small selection the hybrid sections offered. It was an exercise made to humiliate, you’d thought, you had no idea how to pick clothes for yourself that weren’t standard issue - had no idea what colours and materials and fits went together with what. He’d made you pick what felt good in the end, said that Soap had told him the important thing was picking something comfortable - it didn’t narrow your search by very much.

Propelled by the thought of getting to leave if you just compiled, you eventually settled on some blue vans trainers, a cosy pullover hoodie, two new pyjama sets, a couple of pairs of jeans and a few T-shirts that weren’t too adventurous - save for the one that had some illustrated plants on it. Even that little amount felt like far too much, overwhelming you with how much choice you’d have when your promised downtime would come. Though every time you asked if you’d picked enough, Ghost would just fix you with a stony look that told you to keep going. 

Then as if that wasn’t enough, he took you over to a bookshop as well, claiming you needed something to entertain yourself with in your downtime. Even when you told him you’d managed alright up till that point. However, when you were left to explore so that Ghost could go pick something for himself, it wasn’t the books there that you were most taken by. 

“What’ve you got there then?”

You froze, shoulders bunching as you heard Ghost’s voice softly break your awed silence and looked guiltily down at the little puppy teddy you were holding. You weren’t supposed to be looking at that- that’s what you figured when you saw his shadow cross your path. A picture of his sneering face crossed your mind’s eye, darkened by that unruly blonde fringe of his. 

What were you supposed to say to him? After blankly looking at a few of the books, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over to the little displays of plushies, and had slowly gravitated toward it when you saw the little dog that was now in your hands. 

The dog’s fur was so unbelievably soft and its little spotted face reminded you of one of your favourite cartoons from when you were small. It called out to you and lured you in with the reminder of some old theme song that played in your head, made you pick it up and stroke its squishy black and white tummy with a smile plastered all over your face. 

“I got distracted, sorry,” you murmured, gently placing it amongst its spotted siblings. 

Ghost came round to your side and picked up the same puppy you’d been holding. You tilted your head in surprise and watched as he did the same as you, stroking the soft tummy while inspecting it. It looked comically smaller in his hands though, like a newborn pup. 

“You want him?”

Your ears perked in surprise when he spoke. Finally you chanced a look up at him and felt your cheeks warm when you made eye contact, thoroughly embarrassed that you’d been caught. Though he didn’t look judgemental like you’d thought he would, instead he just stared at you earnestly over his black medical mask and gave you a chance to speak. 

“I…um...” you weren’t sure what to say. 

Of course you wanted him. Every little instinct in you wanted to take the toy and hold it and cuddle it and never let go. However that wasn’t the kind of behaviour befitting of a military class hybrid like you, and it was the kind of thing you’d have been endlessly mocked, if not punished for before. 

Soldiers don’t cuddle their teddy bears and blankets, they make their beds quickly and efficiently and don’t concern themselves with such stupid frivolities!

“It’s not a trick question, Pup. No wrong answer,” Ghost supplied, holding the puppy out to you encouragingly. 

You breathed out a sigh, but your chest didn’t feel any less heavy. Even if it was such a silly decision to make, it still felt like such a big undertaking. If you said yes and took it, would Ghost think less of you? You already thought less of you for wanting it. You were already filled with judgement, the voices of all the superiors that had ever disciplined you mocking you in one big evil choir. 

Stupid little baby wolf. 

You whined, but even despite yourself, you took it and held it to your chest. 

“Hey, you deserve to have things of your own, that’s what tonight’s all about,” Ghost said, gently setting his hand on your shoulder as he did so. “You deserve to exist outside of the military, to be more than a war dog. If this makes you happy, then we should get ‘im.”

You wanted to keel over then as you rolled your eyes, let your whole body collapse with the motion. This dog at least was a simple decision in terms of what you liked, much easier than when you’d been standing in front of all those dreaded clothes racks, but it didn’t make finalising it any easier. Not when your feelings were colliding like waves against a harbour wall, one side seemingly solid while the other corroded it.

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“I’m not supposed to want things like this,” you mumbled, holding the teddy out in front of yourself again like it was some kind of alien object. 

“Why not?” he chuckled.

“Because it’s for children,” you said dryly.

“It’s not for children,” he scoffed. “There’s no rules on who gets to buy cuddly toys. Anyway, you clearly want the little fella, so we’re getting him.”

You frowned, looking confusedly down at the dog again. 

“But It’s a distraction…All of this stuff is,” you uttered, feeling Maddox’s voice speak through you like a spell had been cast. “It’ll take my mind off important things and get everyone hurt.”

You thought back to the kid in the bunk next to you, the one that had cried on the first day because they couldn’t have their teddy bear to sleep with. Maddox had lectured you all then and there, almost shouting the fur off your ears, saying that hybrid soldiers couldn’t let anything get in the way of them functioning. Needing a teddy bear to sleep wouldn’t fly when you were overseas and catching bullets because you were sleep deprived, reading books to escape your miserable new lives would get you killed when your heads were still stuck in them, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. 

“You don’t think we all need distractions sometimes?” Ghost asked. “Distractions make life worth living, and you’re no less deserving of that than anyone on the team. Don’t you think?”

You didn’t have an answer for that. In fact, you were arguing a point that wasn’t even yours. So, in response, you shrugged and traced one of the puppy’s patches.

“I think you care about me like…a weird amount,” you mumbled. 

“A weird amount?” Ghost scoffed, hiding a crinkly eyed smile behind his mask. “Why’s it weird to care about you, huh?” 

You shrugged again. 

“Ok, listen. You’ve been all twisted up by those idiots at your last base and I want you to know that I’m not gonna legitimise a single thing that they’ve taught you. This is what it’s going to be like now, this is what you get for coming in everyday and working your arse off. The fact that you’ve been given no compensation and been run so badly into the ground by those cretins is nothing short of appalling. Believe me when I tell you that I know it’s not as simple as flicking a switch and getting used to good treatment - it won’t happen just because I tell you it’s all over now and I understand that. Just…let me give you a little bit of comfort, yeah? Just to show you how things should be. Just enjoy a distraction or two and see that it won’t be life ending, and it’s not gonna get taken away from you. I promise you’ll be fine” 

Your throat was too thick with emotion to answer. So instead of making a fool out of yourself you nodded your assent and looked down at your new prize with wonder. How long had it been since you’d owned something that didn’t have any function or use on the battlefield? How long since you’d held something so soft?

“Now…did you actually look at any books or did you just stand and bully yourself for wanting something nice?”

You jumped when Ghost’s grizzled voice sounded out and brought your mind back to task, shaking your head of all your musings. Choosing books - right. All at once, the multicoloured aisles came back to view and all the people in them, the room filled out around you and made you hold your puppy down low at your side and out of view.

“Yeah, I um- I think I found something cool.”

-🐺-

That night Ghost let you stay up in bed for a little bit to read. Leaving you nestled in your swarm of blankets sitting side by side with your new friend as the plush sat up against the pillows with you. Your eyes poured over the artwork of your new graphic novels in wonder, admiring the bold colours and thick lines, turning the glossy pages ever so slowly as if your heart would stop beating when you got to the end of the book. 

When you ended the first chapter you smiled down at the little dog rather childishly and bit your lip. It was silly to name inanimate objects, it didn’t take someone standing over you and shouting at you to know that, though you couldn’t help it when the name seemed to cling to him with an unshakable grip. Simon. You’d name him Simon after the main character in the story. It seemed to suit the little black and white dog just as much as it did the hybrid boy, and now there was no changing it - unfortunately for you. 

[diejager]

Hi hi I love your monster fics you don't have to write anything about this I'm just a little curious on how you think the boys are react to their human reader getting turned into a monster and then reacting to the painful process and you can choose whichever monster and whichever way I'm just a little curious

Pairing: Monster!Task Force 141 x reader

Ce: mentioned torture, blood drinking, biting, vampire!reader, forceful transformation, canon-typical violence, imprisonment, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.7k

Let’s imagine you were contacted by Laswell before the MW2 campaign, freshly given the rank of corporal and still as dumbfounded that Price had asked for you. You had the time to connect with the other men - monsters - and get to know them, to see farther than the image they portrayed to others: broad, gruff and dangerous beasts of the 141.

Graves caught you and Alejandro, locking you in different isolation cells that were made to hold hybrids. You were bitten pale in the darkness of your isolation, your cries and whimpers of being sucked nearly dry reached the other men who were equally unfortunate. Alejandro seethed, growling and turning in his cell, he swore curses and threats at Graves and his gang of servants. He turned you the same night, weakened and dying, ichor dripping from your wounds. He used your moment of submission, of weakness to feed you his essence, a part of his being in his blood. He cradled you as he drank the last of your life force from your veins, making room for his own to fill the emptiness in you, to remake you into his own. Your body was wracked with jerks, limbs shaking and twitching, and you convulsed in a cry of pain, every fibre of your essence remaking itself into the thing he created: a thrall. 

Alejandro, the one who bared witness to your change and suffering in his cell, felt guilty for not being strong enough to escape, it weighed heavily on his mind that he had been the first to get captured and in turn, hadn’t been able to protect you. He’s the first to rush to your cell once he’s freed, if you jump on him in hunger or remained seated against the corner of your cell, restraining yourself from jumping Alejandro, he’d let you drink from him anyway. Partly a token of apology from him, for failing you and himself, and another part because he wanted to be the one to curb your hunger and rage from your transformation. It would be an honour to help you ease into the life of a monster, even though he seethed with wrath and dripped with threats. He’s a shifter, his bones crack and bend every time he shifts, so he understands the pain of changing, he - and Soap, he guessed - could relate and ease the first pains. With his shifting came enhanced strength and agility, easier to withstand your onslaught of attacks when you trained with him. He doesn’t use his claws or teeth on you (unless you’re playing bite with him like you do with Soap, he wouldn’t mind leaving a mark or two on you.), but will take your charpentes nails and practiced blood manipulation that you trained with Ghost. He doesn’t know how dangerous or potent his blood is to vampires and thralls, if his blood enhanced your abilities, made you weaker or sent you in a frenzied state that made you high and dazed, so he let’s you feed on him occasionally. 

Rudy - Rudolfo - was the seconds behind Alejandro, he bared witness to you cradled in his colonel’s arms. Shock and confusion were his first reactions, followed by devastation and guilt. Devastated that you’d been forced into the life of a monster, the world-shattering change happening under stress, anxiety, pain and betrayal. Guilt that he hadn’t been there when you were taken, vanishing in the dark before all of this happened, he couldn’t have done anything to stop Graves from turning you. Although he wasn’t one for violence - unnecessary violence that would cause the death of a person in the most painful and violent ways - he felt anger pulse under his skin, threatening to burst from his bulging (in anger like in animes cuz it’s funny to imagine that) veins. Rudy would be there to help you through the transition, being the one who’s closest to being a human, he could pave the way to control yourself. He would let you fed from him, his mostly human constitution would be nourishing and safe for you than the rest of the men on the Task Force. He might dangle this opportunity over their heads, brag about how he’s the lucky one in all of them when you aren’t looking. If he could - and if you’re comfortable enough - he’d take every feeding in public, smiling smugly in the frowning faces of the rest while you fed.

Ghost, all he could see was red the moment you were taken from him. He had to watch you convulse and cry, the little human from his Task Force - under his protection in las Alma’s - tumbling over the edge and flinch every time he tried to touch you. He knew the possibility that Graves would turn you - he’d made it apparent in his jokes when you first joined them - but that didn’t help the waning fear and anger that churned in his soul. He couldn’t do much to soothe you when you whimpered painfully, all he could do was to hold you as you clung to him, whining at how much your body burned and hurt, as if every fibre of your being was being ripped apart and put back in the wrong places. He knew the danger of having Graves’ thrall in his team, but he couldn’t let you waste on your own. Once he made sure Graves was dead (he’s as destructive as he is suicidal, Ghost would’ve bathed Graves under enhanced UV lights that would burn the vampire but he wouldn’t let Graves die. Stuck in a constant loop of burning and healing, having his blood rendered useless and weak to him. If only Soap hadn’t blown him up in a tank, Ghost would’ve had so much fun torturing Graves for the things he did to you.), he would help you control your powers, master them and use it against others; never again would he let you be captured. Wraiths were deadly creatures, hybrids even more so, so he wouldn’t let you drink from him, not until Laswell had some tests ran on his blood’s constitution for your safety.

Soap, in all his life, never felt more angry with himself and Graves. At himself for not reaching you in time, and at Graves for his transgressions. He sympathized with your transformation, the pain and anguish he felt from you. He held you tightly in a comforting embrace on the ride back to Alejandro’s safehouse, whispering sweet words to your trembling figure. The moment he had his hands on Graves, he made sure he died burning in his tank, sending it sky-high in a grandiose explosion. Every thrall would feel the death of their master, including you. So when you cried about feeling empty, he held you, telling you: “Dinnae worry ‘bout it, m’eudail.” while caressing you. Soap’s a cuddler, he’d cuddle you while you slept on his bed for comfort, letting you bite a him if he bites back. He’s mouthy too, he’d make the best of every situation he or people he cared got into. Now werewolf blood, some find it revolting - mostly pig-headed pure blood vampires like Graves and the like - and others drink it as often as human blood, but you feed from him when he bares his neck to you, smile cocky and posture relaxed. He also likes to show the others - both Rudy and him - their marks, two small puncture wounds on their neck and shoulders. Soap loves close-combat training and will fight you, let you run free with your vampiric strength that would break and kill humans. He’d laugh and chuckle when you try to chase after him and tackle him, it’d be like two kids playing rough.

Gaz felt guilty about not being in Las Almas to help you, only seeing you after you were rescued and trying to adjust to your new skills, and like the rest, he’s angry, feeling the agony oozing from your every pores. He regretted not following you that night to Mexico and now, leaving you locked in a cell where Graves’ influence wouldn’t reach you while they went to retake Alejandro’s base. Although he hated not being the one to end Graves, he was grateful that Soap went wild with explosive, truly the demolition expert of the Task Force. Everything he knew was from the four men’s retelling of the events prior and after your rescue, there was little he could help but work through comforting you with his calming and gentle tongue. He’d make use of his wings to wrap you in a soft and warm cocoon when his talons were too much of a risk to place on you. He knew you liked his fuzzy wings, so why not use them for your comfort. He could fight you, but his constitution meant that he had hallow, but sturdy bones, a thrall’s strength would hurt but not break them like Price, Alejandro or Soap. Gaz’s a bit sensitive, he knew that but still wanted you to be able to depend on him when you were hungry, he might whine here and there, but he liked the thought of having a bit of him inside you.

Price took it the hardest, it was his Task Force, his responsibility to take care of his pack - his dragon’s hoard - and you were the most vulnerable one and the baby of the team, so you held more weight in his heart. He was disappointed in himself for not seeing the trickery from Shepherd, the red flag of finding America ballistic missiles on the mission and not connecting it to the General or the USA. He blamed himself for your change and your temporary imprisonment while they went to kill the one who did it to you, who brought you so much suffering. Anger filed his quest and protectiveness made it successful, taking down your torturer so that you could live influence-free of Graves. Price, like a father-figure, protected and cared for his family and he failed. He could trust Gaz, Soap and Rudy to comfort you, to ground you to earth. He could trust Ghost and Alejandro to teach you, to help you protect yourself. And he, all he could bring himself to do without feeling shame, was to urge you to rest. Little acts that would give you more time to rest and less duties, he had experience and restraint, he would help where the others lacked. He’d refrain from letting you drink draconic blood, the power and potency of it would overcharge you for a time. Perhaps he’d let you take from him before an especially difficult and dangerous mission, but outside that, he’s known for his self-restraint.

[gor3-hound]

'TIL DEATH DO US PART // NAOYA ZENIN

ft. fox!naoya zenin x bunny!f!reader

a/n: guys i cannot for the life of me think of good fic titles... hicc... another commission for the no.1 naoya stan @nexysworld !!

cw: 18+ content, dead dove do not eat, non-con, abuse references, hot water burns, biting, claws, forced breeding, creampie, p in v, riding... not super hybrid focused, but knotting and stuff !! forced marriage/coercive marriage

word count: 1.6k words

Being the favoured whore of Naoya Zen'in is considered an honourable position to have. You would be blind to miss the envious gazes of the other servants within the clan walls as you make your way through the halls once more, towards his room.

You're sure their jealousy would dissipate if they knew how he truly was. He did not mask his attitude, his distaste for women as a whole – for prey women, no less. The extent of it was not something even you had anticipated. You had theoretically climbed the ranks to an easier job. After all, you'd gotten your own chambers. Three square meals most days. It was no wonder the other women wished they were in your position.

You'd gladly take your old station if it meant you didn't have to be a bed warmer for the Zen'in heir. He was cruel, not only in his words, but his actions. He would use you to his own satisfaction, tossing you aside without a second thought once he was done. Your body ached more each time he called on you, new scars and marks marring your once perfect skin.

You were sick of it.

Your hands shake as you stand in front of the door leading to his room, tea sloshing precariously in the mug you held in one hand. You swallow thickly, taking in a deep breath through your nose to steel your nerves. You know what your punishment will be if you get caught, but you know Naoya's pride exceeds anything else. If you succeeded, he wouldn't dare breathe a word of what happened. You would become his wife – he would have to wed you. You'd gain enough power to calm his cruelty, to reign him in even slightly. You'd take anything over the treatment you were receiving now.

You raise your free hand to knock on his door, tail twitching anxiously behind you. A lump forms in your throat as you hear footsteps approaching the door, one that you have to swallow multiple times to dislodge. You force a smile onto your face as he opens the door, floppy ears perking up as your eyes settle on him.

“The servants prepared your tea, master. I brought it with me to save them the trip.” You say as steadily as you can, attempting to mask the shaking of your voice. You only hoped the sizzling had died down, that the herbs you'd added to the liquid would not be too noticeable.

His lip curls as he gazes at you, showing a flash of a sharp canine tooth. His tail flickers with irritation which you choose to ignore. It would all be okay, as long as he wasn't suspicious of your actions.

“I don't recall asking you to speak, woman.” He huffs, taking the mug from your hand as he steps aside, walking into the room. He pauses as he nears the bed, glancing back over his shoulder. “Well? Come in, and strip. I don’t wish to waste any more time tonight. You're late.”

You nod once, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. You step into the centre of the room, stopping in front of Naoya as he sits on the bed, taking a sip of the tea. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, almost painfully as you wait to see if he notices a difference in the flavour. He says nothing.

Slowly, you shed the clothes from your body, unable to conceal the trembling of your hands as you do so. Naoya notices, of course, but his expression twists into one of amusement as he sips at the tea once more. He hasn't caught you out, not yet. The effects of the herbs would begin to show soon, you hoped. Before he realised what you had done.

“Do I scare you, girl?” He says, head tilting to the side as his gaze flicks across your body, taking in the array of bite marks and scars left by his hand. A sharp grin spreads across his features as he takes you in, pride shining on his face in a way that makes you feel sick. You shake your head, and a hand comes out to force you to your knees.

“A bunny at the mercy of a fox, putting on a brave face?” He says with a chuckle, condescension lacing his voice. “You should be scared.”

The burn settles into your skin before you see the movement of his hand, the now emptied cup being dropped at your feet as the hot water seeps into your skin, making you cry out in pain. Your arm shakes and trembles, but you do your best to silence any other cries. His hand grasps your injured arm, squeezing just so he can hear you whimper once more.

“Almost as pretty as the sounds you make under me.” He hums as he yanks you up onto the bed. His claws dig harshly into the soft flesh of your arm, droplets of blood rising to the surface of your skin before trailing downwards.

He works on his own clothes as he nips at the skin of your neck, biting down harshly at the juncture of your throat when he's finally able to shimmy out of his underwear. He growls softly, pulling back to lick over his teeth with his tongue. His gaze is hazy, almost distant as he looks down at you.

“Tastes… so good, bunny.” He huffs, but the words sound strained – forced. The grin falls slowly from his face. Naoya blinks multiple times, eyelids heavy and almost sticky, like he's struggling to open them fully.

“Fuck… my head.” He grunts, raising a hand to hold it against his forehead, eyes squeezing shut. He sways on his knees, unstable. “Fetch… a servant. Call for a servant, girl.”

As soon as you hear the slurred manner of his words, you know you've succeeded. You'd planted enough of the herbs for them to be effective despite the small amount he'd drunk, relief rushing to you when you realise your plan was working.

It's easy to push him onto his back, straddling his hips. Almost too easy. You gaze down at him in suspicion, but he barely moves. Not even a twitch of annoyance crosses his face as his body goes slack against the sheets. His eyes are practically glazed over as he looks at you. It's almost unnerving – like he's looking right through you.

“Y-you…” The word comes out thick, his tongue too heavy in his mouth to properly form the words he wishes to say. He feels like he's choking on them. “Whore.”

“I'll be your wife, soon enough.” You reply sharply, lowering yourself steadily onto his half-hard cock. It's the only part of him that appears to be working fully, twitching to life inside of you until the tip kisses your cervix. You lift yourself up, hands steadying your movements as they press against his chest. You pulse around him, and his hips buck almost imperceptibly. Another choked sound leaves his lips, which curl back to reveal gritted teeth and sharp fangs.

“I would never… take a whore wife.” He grits out, the effort it takes to speak causing drool to form in his mouth, spilling past the corners of his lips. His body strains as he attempts to move, his muscles too relaxed for him to make any progress despite his best efforts.

“You have no choice.” You say simply, rolling your hips in a steady pace as you fuck yourself on his length, setting a pace you know he enjoys. “I'll bear your heirs. Do you think your father will allow his only son to sire bastards that weaken his family's claim? I doubt it.”

A growl rises in his throat, fingers twitching desperately as he attempts to raise his arms to push you off of him. All he manages is to grab the sheets beneath them with a low whine, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“Please.” He whimpers, voice weak and barely audible. You can't help but laugh, rocking your hips down once more, greedy cunt swallowing each and every inch of him with ease.

“Please?” You repeat, watching the tears that stream down his face with satisfaction. “That's never worked on you, has it? No matter how much I begged and pleaded, you never faltered.”

You watch him open his mouth once more, almost anticipating an apology. It does not come. His head tilts to the side – the best he can do to conceal the pitiful expression on his face without full control of his body. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows the sorry resting on the tip of his tongue, eyes shutting once more.

He gasps as he cums, expression becoming tense as he fills you. You press down until he's buried to the hilt inside you, his knot swelling and plugging you full of his seed. He's always been so careful as to avoid spilling inside of you – bunnies we're known for their fertility, and he could not risk siring a bastard with his already weak claim. You can almost sense how defeated he is, a surge of pride shooting through you. A shaky sigh leaves your lips as you still, head tilting down so you can look at him.

He's already looking at you, eyes sharp and narrowed. His expression is filled with resentment, hatred and anger blurring together. You meet his gaze, unwavering as he attempts to stare you down. Eventually, he concedes, allowing his head to fall to the side once more like a scolded puppy depsite the way his cock as already started to harden again, locked inside of you with his swollen knot. You lean down to speak, lips brushing his ear.

“You should consider wedding preparations. I doubt your reputation could take the scandal of this got out.”

[under-cotton-and-calicos]

Imagine you’ve entered the biggest, most anticipated annual livestock show as a cow hybrid.

You’ve been prepping for this event for months, sticking to a strict nutritious diet, grooming yourself and training to produce the sweetest, most decadent milk in large quantities.

The day arrives, and after the judging, you’re crowned with first place!

It’s an honour- you’re given a huge check and a beautiful ribbon. But that’s not the biggest incentive for winning first place. On the main stage, you’re secured to a fence, a solid and thick slab of wood with a hole in the middle of it. You slip into the hole, your swollen and leaking breasts on one side and your behind on the other. Your arms are bound to your back, and your legs tied to the fence so your cunt, wet and hungry, is open for easy access. It’s not the comfiest position, but you understand the need for it. It wouldn’t be good if you were bucking here and there during the process after all.

You can hear one of the judges speaking on the mic, after some talk about prices and queue numbers, there’s a crowd of eager farmers and cow hybrids who want a taste of your milk. You’re shifting in anticipation, nipples already leaking a few precious drops. The participants take turns latching onto you, toying your sensitive nipples in their mouths and tugging on them with their teeth so that your milk gets squirted into their mouth. They tell you it’s some of the best that they’ve ever tasted, and you blush so prettily at all their compliments.

Soon after, you can feel something nudging at your rump. There’s another line of studs behind you who have gone through their own judging to determine whether they’ll be fit to breed you. Their strong, beautiful bodies means that they’re well-endowed, and you can feel it as the first one struggles to rut his cock into you. You can hear a chuckle behind you as your tail swishes in excitement. Hurry, hurry, hurry-

There’s a loud groan as his meaty cock fills you up. It feels fantastic, having your nipples be suckled on as you’re bred thoroughly with such virile seed. Every time one’s finished spilling its semen inside of you, as deep as possible so that theirs is the one that takes, another eager bull takes his place. You’re at the peak of your fertility, so you’re sure that your belly is gonna swell with child in a few weeks, and the thought sends even more milk streaming from your nipples. 

You’re not even done yet, but you can’t wait to participate in next year’s show.

[cheollipop]

ꕥ— 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙠𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙮

navi | taglist

pairing: kitty!choi san x owner!reader x puppy!jung wooyoung

w.c.: 4.4k

tags: smut, fluff, hybrid au, fem reader, mxm heavy (check tags)

squeezed between your body and wooyoung's, kisses littered over his heated skin and whimpers dragged out from between his lips, you guided san through his first heat.

warnings: threesome (m/f/m), thigh humping, unprotected sex (👎), vaginal sex, mxm, anal fingering, some rimming, anal sex, slick for lube lmao, bottom!san, top!wooyoung, sub!san, service dom!reader, who knows what wooyoung is, man just wants to fuck, knotting, multiple orgasms (m&f), so much cum, like a crazy amount, very unrealistic amount of cum, handjob, male squirting, breeding kink, lots of praise, lots of overstimulation, lots of creampies, some cockwarming, some spit, san is very whiny, nicknames (mommy; woo, youngie; sannie, kitty, love, darling), I think that's all?

A/N: this is thank you gift to one of the sweetest people I've had the honour of meeting!! @roodles17 /@littleocean-rose thank you so much for everything, and I really hope I did your idea justice!! happy reading~~

nsfw and warnings under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Fingers pressing into the tattered keycaps, you basked under the sliver of sunlight filtering through the open blinds above your desk, the shining orb only now departing from its locus, a couple more hours to go before the sky changed hues and the clouds resembled cotton candy. You sighed as you turned your attention back to your screen, urging your hands to move while your unfinished report stared back at you.

You don’t hear the muted shuffling behind you, bare feet padding along the floorboards until they reached your side, a subtle gush of air blowing over your skin as the cat hybrid crouched beside you, nuzzling his cheek into your lap. You smiled at the gesture, moving one hand off your keyboard to run it through his blonde locks, taking in his docile form as he sat on the floor by your desk chair. Your mind wandered back to his first few weeks with you: he would only eat when he was alone, startle at any sound, hiss and bite whenever you tried getting near him. But now, that same hybrid sought out affection and even began initiating it, growing whinier every second your attention was not on him, his lips pouting egregiously until you welcomed him into your lap.

He tilted his chin upwards, setting it on your thigh to look up at you expectantly, shifting onto his knees as his eyes grew wider. You huffed out a laugh at his expression, and you knew the warmth in your chest had nothing to do with the golden rays of spring shining through your window. But your work deadline ticked in your head, your eyes flitting back towards your laptop as its fan whirred in the background, sighing in defeat.

“I really need to get this done, Sannie,” the disappointment on his face pulled at your heartstrings. “I’m sorry, love. Give me an hour or two and I’ll be all yours, okay?”

The pout on his lips persisted, but a hesitant nod shook his head. You smiled. He was your good boy.

San remained by your side for next hour, cheek smushed against your pajama bottoms and his tail brushing over your feet every time it swayed. It distracted you at first, the subtle purr vibrating over your thigh, but soon your fingers began moving steadily over the keys, typing paragraph after paragraph, San’s restless fidgeting going unnoticed as you immersed yourself into your report.

He stared up at your profile, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and your lips pursed while you worked, a shot of pain surging through his tight abdomen. You’d heard San make a lot of noises—needy meows, hearty giggles, feisty hisses—but the pained mewl slipping through his lips wasn’t one of them, instantly turning your head towards him. Teary eyes met yours, his chin propped up on your thigh and his face contorting into that of fiery need, fingers grasping at your calves in an attempt to ground himself. You noted the trail of slick left on the floorboards under him, shimmering under the sunlight as he rutted over the solid wood.

Drawing your attention back to his eyes, you held his face in your palms, “Sannie, can you tell me what hurts, love?”

“I-I can’t wait anymore, ‘hurts,” tears welled up in his eyes, and before you could repeat your question, San’s hand finds its way between his legs, palming over the tent in his pink sleep shorts with built-up desperation. “Please, ‘want you now.”

You glanced at your screen, the nearing deadline ticking in your head as you weighed your options. Small hands tugged at your flowy bottoms, the sound of reckless shuffling focusing your attention on San as he dragged his hips along the floor, soft whimper slipping through his parted lips. Your fingers twitched over his skin, slipping down to rest on his biceps.

“How about you grind against mommy while she gets the rest of her work done, hm?”

San’s eyes lit up, and he hurriedly scrambled off the floor to straddle one of your thighs, panting heavily as you moved his waistband down—sucking in a deep breath at the lack of underwear—and snapping it under his balls. The thin material was soaked through, precum and slick darkening the cotton as San’s arousal flooded out of his delicate body. You’d never seen the cat hybrid act this way, eying over his reddening skin while he grinded his leaking cock over your upper thigh, streaks of precum staining the fabric.

“Good?” You pushed back the blonde strands sticking to his damp forehead.

“’F-feels weird, mommy, I- ah!”

“Weird how, love?” You brushed a thumb over his shut eyelid, a silent request for him to look at you, and he did, peaking at you through the thick veil of arousal clouding his senses. “Tell mommy how you’re feeling.”

“I-I don’t know...”

The pout on his lips drew a smile on yours, “Do you not feel good?”

“No! ‘Feels so good…. I-I’m so close,” his hips slowed, San's eyebrows furrowing at the languid pace despite it being his own doing.

“Does kitty want to cum?” You smiled, tucking a loose strand behind his ear.

He bit back a moan, canines digging into his bottom lip as he tortured himself with slow drags over your clothed skin. “But, ngh- I don’t wanna get your clothes dirty.”

Fondness flooded your chest, your heart about to burst at the innocence held within his words, contrasting the flushed state of his skin and the precum seeping into your patterned pants. “Oh Sannie, you’re such a good boy, aren’t you?” Your lips stretched further at the subtle perk-up of his ears at the nickname, “don’t worry about that, darling, we can wash them later.”

Your hands found their place on his behind, guiding his movements over your thigh until airy moans poured out of him. Tucking his face into the crook of your neck, he breathed in your scent, blowing hot air out of his lungs while he frantically rolled his hips back into your palms, and forwards over the soft cotton. Mumbled pleas and heavy pants muffled by your skin, the stutter of his hips as you moved them over you, San drowned himself in the overwhelming pleasure, his cock pulsing while ropes of white painted over the pattern on your pants.

A rough tongue ran over your pulse point, suckling on the delicate skin as he continued to grind over you, still hard and not showing any signs of fatigue. Unusual, you thought, as the hybrid was usually satisfied after one round, feeding off the attention you’d given him until another wave of need overtook him. Frenetic hips continued to move over your thigh, aided by the translucent liquid coating your pants, his thrusts only calming down once a third body entered the room, resonant footsteps turning hushed as bare feet pressed into the fluffy rug in your study. A curious—and slightly erratic—nose dug into the side of San’s freckled neck, Wooyoung’s hanging ears along with a few strands of purple brushing against the side of your face, the poignant scent of lavender permeating the air around you. Sandwiched between the two bodies, you watched queryingly as his sniffing nose trailed upwards to nuzzle into the other hybrid’s hair—yet another unusual occurrence.

After a couple months of cautious steps and endless bickering, the two hybrids were basically inseparable. Their scent mingled into one, and one of their beds was almost always empty as they began to favour a shared sleeping arrangement. But Wooyoung was acting strange, as though he was experiencing a new side to San, inhaling a scent different to the one he’d grown used to.

“Smells so good,” he muttered into the blonde locks, arm circling the two bodies in the creaking chair to pull San closer with a hand on his lower back, pushing him further into your chest with the gesture.

“Youngie…” Wooyoung’s ears perked up at the gravelly tone, but his face remained buried into the side of San’s head. “Youngie, ‘want you, please,” his hips gave a few aggressive thrusts before another load of hot cum spurted out of his angry cockhead, a broken cry sending a wave of arousal down to your core, and—judging by the grunt leaving the puppy hybrid’s lips—Wooyoung’s as well.

You gave San a few seconds to wind down, sucking in a surprised gasp when the hybrid returned to his insistent grinding, a whispered “not enough” on his lips. With your hands on his shoulders, you pulled him off you until his flushed face returned to your field of vision, glossy lips parted and eyes lidded with lust while he moved his cock over a puddle of his own cum. Levelling Wooyoung with a warning look, the hybrid pulled back his meddling nose with a dejected whine, allowing you to examine the cat hybrid without his unneeded assistance. You placed a hand on his cheek, the other on his forehead, eyebrows raising at the abnormal warmth seeping into your palms as the blonde nuzzled into your touch, a soft purr vibrating in his chest. The high temperature, the urgent need for stimulation, the obscene amount of cum coating your thigh—you gathered the symptoms in your head, a final diagnosis flashing in red before your eyes. Of course.

Your fingers slid into his hair, thumb brushing over his cheekbone while you scratched at the hair behind his ears, the worry pulling your eyebrows together lessening at the way San melted under your touch. “Oh, love, you’re in heat?” It was as though your words had reminded him of his current situation, his movements growing frantic again, the hand you’d slid down to his hips proving useless in calming him down. “My poor baby,” you cooed, allowing him to move as he wished, “you won’t feel better until you get a knot in you.”

San’s head snapped upwards, looking for the puppy hybrid’s eyes and finding them staring right back at him, the veins in his hands protruding out of the delicate skin as he gripped the edge of the chair behind you to prevent himself from reaching out to San. Your good boy, following your unspoken instruction.

Small hands circled around your head to grab fistfuls of Wooyoung’s shirt, making you on eye-level with San’s chest as his eyes grew teary with overflowing need, “please, Youngie, please knot me.”

Peering down at you with a questioning gaze, hints of desperation glimmering in his hooded eyes, Wooyoung silently asked you an obvious question, his fingers twitching beside your head. You smiled, huffing out a small laugh as your chest brimmed with teeming adoration.

“What do you say, Youngie, should we help our poor kitty out?”

--

Small hands kneaded at the backs of your thighs, folding you in half and leaning over your body while he dug his blunt nails into the flesh, the relaxed pace at which he squeezed at your skin contrasting that of his hips, hammering into your soaked pussy without relent, as though he hadn’t dragged two orgasms out of you already. You slid a hand over the side of his neck, bringing his head down until the tell-tale roughness of his tongue grazed your collarbone.

San’s thrusts faltered, his hips now shallowly rolling into your cunt while mumbled gibberish mixed with whimpers poured onto your chest in hot exhales. He was more so rutting his hips back than forward, meeting Wooyoung’s long fingers as they stretched him open, a stream of slick dripping down San’s balls and mingling with your arousal and his cum, a thick load already stuffed deep within you. At the change in demeanour, Wooyoung prodded the pads of his fingers at the swollen gland again, eyes following the frantic sway of the fluffy white tail in front of him, and noting the subtle twitch of San’s toned thighs.

“Youngie, ‘s enough,” San pleaded, voice drowned out as he dug his face further into the crook of your neck, and Wooyoung decided he liked that reaction. So he repeated the motion, once, twice, until you felt his throbbing length pulsating within you. “Nghh! P-please I-”

He drew his hips away from the relentless digits, sheathing himself within your warm walls as Wooyoung milked him from the back, his muscles jerking with every brush against his prostate. He pulled his fingers out at the first protest from the cat hybrid, a feisty paw swinging backwards in complaint, instead leaning down lick a stripe over San’s winking hole, clenching uselessly as slicked oozed out of it. That same paw reached back to press against the back of Wooyoung’s head, pushing him further between his legs as the starved tongue lapped at his puckered rim.

To your surprise, San’s attention focused back onto you, his eyes lidded but still aware, not yet clouded with the thick haze of his heat. Rolling his hips experimentally, San’s eyebrows furrowed in discomfort momentarily before relaxing, languidly grinding his once-again hardening cock into your cunt, exhaling breathy moans that reached your face in negligible puffs, “am I making you feel good, mommy?”

You carded your fingers through his soft locks, the sound of Wooyoung suckling excitedly on San’s rim drowning into the background as gentle eyes awaited your affirmation. “You feel so good, Sannie, always so good got me, love,” the corners of your lips curved into an easy smile, your overwhelming infatuation towards the hybrid pouring into your expression. But then his face contorted again, as though every motion within you wounded him. “Sannie, does it hurt, darling? We can stop now if you’re tired-”

“No!” Pink painted his cheeks at the sudden raise in his tone, his next words uttered under his breath with embarrassment laced into the syllables, “p-please don’t stop, mommy feels so good.... ‘wanna cum again, please, can I?”

Holding his face between your palms, you drew him closer to smack a few open-mouthed kisses onto his heated forehead, thumbing over his cheekbones while you eyed his features for a few seconds, his soft whine reminding you that he’d asked a question, “of course you can, darling, you can cum as many times as you want.” San’s ears perked up, his tail standing straight for a moment before beginning to wave at a building pace, becoming uncontrollable after he’d picked up your next words, “do you wanna try coming on Youngie’s knot?”

San's hips stilled, partly at your words, but also due to the firm chest now stuck to his sweat-covered back, Wooyoung’s cock snug between his cheeks. Small fingers clutched your thighs again, digging into the skin as Wooyoung teased his cockhead over the perky hole, smearing precum around until it formed a homogenous mixture with San’s slick before finally breaching his entrance. The tinges of neglect you’d been feeling faded away with every inch Wooyoung pushed into the hybrid above you, your position under him granting you a front-row view to his changing expressions—his delicate features reforming as pleasure seeped through his nerves, his eyes fluttering as he tried to keep them open, drawing a perfect circle with his mouth and widening it into an oval once Wooyoung bottomed out. You resisted shutting your eyes, wanting to take in the hushed whimpers escaping the back of San’s throat without any external interferences, but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the hybrid’s face.

Wooyoung’s patience had never been the greatest, always first to jump off the couch whenever he heard your footsteps approaching the front door; not backing down even after getting scolded for crowding you while you made dinner. So you weren’t particularly surprised when he allowed San only a few seconds to adjust, snapping his hips into the hybrid with urgency, pushing his body into yours with every forceful thrust. Veiny hands found San’s waist, gripping the narrow diameter while he drove his cock into his dripping hole, lowering his head to watch himself sink into the stretched rim, and puckered his lips to drop a wad of spit over it, adding to the mess San had already made.

The sweat coating San’s forehead smeared over your chest, his body curling in on itself as he simply took Wooyoung’s cock, giving up on his lousy attempts at thrusting into you. Wrapping your arms around San’s shoulders, you cradled the back of his head and pressed your lips to his hair, the sound of skin-on-skin blending in with the soft mewls vibrating against your chest while Wooyoung pounded into him.

“Kitty feels so good, so warm inside, ah-” his hands slid off San’s waist, one curving over the slope of his ass, spreading him open until the stretched hole peeked at him, squeezing deliciously around his cock, the other pressing onto his lower back.

San's back arched, his nipples rubbing over your torso with every forward jerk, “Youngie, please m-more- ‘want more- hnngh!”

The tone of his voice, the airy moans paired with the drool pooling over your skin, the minute brushes of his cockhead over your g-spot—you were beginning to feel impatient, walls clenching around his throbbing length. That was enough to drive him over the edge, your eyebrows shooting up when warmth spread through your lower belly, the hybrid’s body shuddering as another orgasm rushed through him, Wooyoung’s hips resolute as he guided him through his high.

Through the thick haze of lust, Wooyoung’s eyes locked on you, seemingly noticing your restless state as you warmed San’s cock. He leaned over the blonde’s body, planting a kiss over his shoulder blade, “is kitty being lazy?” the words seemed to fly over his head, his eyes barely open as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm, so Wooyoung gave him a harsh thrust to drag his attention back to him, a startled cry leaving his lips, “Does Sannie like Youngie’s cock that much? Too dumb to do anything but take it?”

San’s head shot off your chest, craning his neck to look back at the puppy hybrid, “l-love Youngie’s cock, please, ‘want it so bad-”

Despite San’s pleads, Wooyoung remained still, one hand squeezing at the flesh of his ass and the other reaching forward to lock with yours, “uh uh, you gotta move properly, San-ah,” he rolled his hips once, moving San with him, his cock hard and throbbing inside you.

“It’s okay, Woo,” you tried, but Wooyoung shook his head.

“Mommy should feel good too,” he pulled his hand away, holding San’s hips and guiding his movements—forward to properly fuck into you, then back to sink his cock into his tight heat.

With your walls wrapped around him and his around Wooyoung’s, the leaking cockhead pressing into his prostate every time it split him open, San’s breathing quickened, chest flushed and heaving as a melody of moans fell off his tongue. Unsatisfied with the pace San was going at, Wooyoung returned to his frenzied rhythm, taking San’s hips with him as he hammered his cock into his tight ass. Soft fingers grasped at the sheets by your head, glimmering eyes—glazed over and glassy—staring back at you, his lips moving in unuttered words as he found his voice through the sounds of pleasure occupying it.

“A-am I doing good, mommy? Is Sannie making you f-feel good?”

The desperation in his voice caused the butterflies in your stomach to thrash around, your fingers gentle as they caressed the hair at his crown, your other hand rubbing soothing circles between his shoulders, gliding smoothly over the sweat beading over his skin. “My good boy, doing so well for me,” you cooed.

And he was. Shots of pleasure seared up your spine as his cock dragged over your pulsing walls, curving into your sweet spot to push you closer to the edge. You could hear the distinct purr reverberating in San’s chest, the gap between your bodies small enough to allow his perked-up nipples to faintly brush against yours with every onward sway.

You could hear Wooyoung’s growing frantic, leaning forward and growling into San’s neck as he fucked into his dripping ass, “mommy, please, hah- c-can I fill kitty up? ‘wanna fuck his breeding hole full of Youngie’s cum, can I please?”

Heat surged through your insides at his words, his lidded eyes peeking at you over San’s shoulder, and you could see his tail wagging violently in the background. You pushed a purple strand off his forehead, brushing your thumb over his eyebrow as you spoke, attempting to maintain a steady tone while San’s hips bucked into you, “you have t-to ask Sannie, baby, not me.”

Burying his nose into San’s neck, inhaling the sweet scent emitting off him between the words he muffled into his skin, “Sannie, can I? C-can I give you my knot? ‘Want you to have Youngie’s pups.”

A whimper escaped through San’s parted lips, not knowing whether to pump his cock into you or to fuck himself on Wooyoung’s, his rhythm all over the place as he pathetically whined and begged for release, “y-yeah- yes, please- ‘Wanna have your pups, g-give it all to me- nghh!”

Amidst the chaos occurring above you, your nerves lit up as your orgasm snuck up on you, your lips parting in a silent cry while San continued his arrhythmic thrusts despite the tremors shaking your body. Whispered I’m sorry's blew over your skin, the setting sun bidding you farewell through the open blinds and painting the walls in a pinkish hue, the rays’ warmth nearly equivalent to that within you as San’s cock spurted weak ribbons of white between your walls. You whimpered at the overstimulation, and San pulled out of you, resting his softening length on your mound while the other hybrid used him like a fucktoy.

The rasp in Wooyoung’s voice echoed in your ears, “gonna look so pretty when you’re swollen.” San’s mewled in response. “All mine, my pretty kitty, going to take all of Youngie’s cum,” he ended with a throaty grunt, snapping his hips thrice before stilling, his knot locking in place and his abdomen flexing as he unloaded inside his heat.

San’s body seized up atop of yours, his face scrunching in discomfort momentarily before easing, and his muscles turned to jelly as he relaxed over you. But Wooyoung’s hand reached between their tangled limbs, pressing San’s spent cock into your lower belly and ignoring the broken protests from below. Grinding his hips into San’ stretched rim, he emptied his thick load inside his used hole, his hand dragging the blonde’s cock over the faint bulge in your tummy where a pool of his cum sat within your womb.

“Youngie, ‘hurts, it hurts-” He hiccupped, and yet his hips followed the movement, forcing his eyelids open to watch his angry cockhead smear watery cum and remnants of your arousal over the skin. “I can’t- please, I-I-”

“Yes you can, Sannie,” you interjected, running a shaky hand through his damp locks, “you can give Woo and I one more, right?”

His eyes welled up with tears, but he nodded nonetheless, the thick knot tugging against his swollen entrance as he slid his length over your skin. “F-feels weird, mommy,” but San kept moving, Wooyoung’s hand still spread over the length to trap him against you.

It was as though a pressure had been rapidly building inside him—Wooyoung’s knot stretching him open and his cum fucked so deep inside him, your skin so smooth and tender under his overstimulated cock as he continued to rut against it. Rough fingers wrapped around the base of his tail, tugging harshly and sending waves of euphoria crashing through San’s trembling body. The pressure burst in the form of translucent streams, his cock twitching uncontrollably as Wooyoung palmed over the head, urging more liquid to squirt out of it and coat your torso. A broken cry ripped out of San’s throat, jerking backwards and away from the puppy’s merciless touch until he gave him some reprieve.

Strong arms wrapped around San’s waist, holding him against his firm body while his chest rose and fell erratically. You sat up, running gentle hands over San’s thighs while peppering kisses over his damp skin, patient while the spasming in his muscles died down. Resting back on his heels, Wooyoung’s arms remained protective around San’s delicate body, eyes roaming over the liquid dripping off your breasts and down your abdomen, a cheeky smile stretching his lips until his canines peeked through:

“I think kitty's all out of milk.”

Once Wooyoung’s knot went down, he slapped off the sticky paws clinging to him and kissed away the pout painting San’s lips, rushing out of bed to clean up. San complained for less than minute before you walked in—showered and carrying a wet rag—to clean him up, running the cloth between his legs and wiping away all the slick and cum. He would shower later, but now, he allowed you to slip a fresh pair of matching pajamas onto his limp body, inhaling the familiar scent of your vanilla-scented laundry detergent before sinking into the clean bedding you’d laid out.

Settling into bed with his head tucked into your neck, limbs tangled up underneath the duvet, you heard the resonant purr sounding in his chest a few seconds before wet footsteps breached the doorway. A warm body followed by a trail of floral bodywash stretched over you to flop behind San's figure, arms enveloping the fatigued hybrid and his hands falling over your waist. With a final look at the two of them—San’s eyes fluttering shut as he succumbed to his exhaustion, cheeks flushed and his hair matted with dried-up sweat; a soft snore dragging your attention to the knocked-out puppy, damp, purple locks spread out on the pillow under his head while he squeezed himself flush against San’s back.

Despite his drowsiness, San peeked an eye open to look at you, an easy smile curling the corners of his lips once he found your gaze. You leaned forward to press your lips to his forehead, then his cheekbones, and finally his pouted lips, moving back while scratching behind his fluffed ears to watch slumber pulling his eyelids shut. You mooned over the tranquillity weaved into his expression—the subtle tug at the corner of his lips, a smile he couldn’t hold back even when unconscious—as though he carried no concern for the next wave of his heat, content so long as he remained encompassed within the familiar scent of vanilla and lavender.

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[esamastation]

Part fifty-six of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: forty-seven forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five

-

Sephiroth knows he's on borrowed time. He bought it, accidentally, with his Qi-deviation… but it's been well over a week since then, without any other deviations. Instead he has had other more interesting developments… and the timer never stopped ticking.

For over a week he's been fine - for over a week he's been doing… pretty much nothing but training. Which in PIDW wouldn't have been a big deal - things happened slower, developments took time, everyone went into seclusion every now and then, and it was fine. When your life revolves around cultivation, haste is an enemy. Cultivation takes decades - sometimes centuries! You need to take your time with it! Months upon months had passed Shen Qingqiu by without him doing anything but laying and reading, and it had been great!

But he's in a sci-fi fantasy dystopia, in the middle of a war, and he's the Big Bad super SOLDIER hybrid. Something the world seems keen to remind him.

"Tseng of the Turks," his new guard introduces himself in the front of the charcoal burner's house. "I will be taking over for Reno and Rude."

Sephiroth can almost see a clock behind Tseng, ticking down to a deadline. He's just as sharply handsome as the game art made him seem - and even less flexible. Everything about him from his posture up his clothing to the precise lack of expression screams you're wasting the company's time, and mine.

"I know who you are," Sephiroth says, setting his face carefully blank as the vibes around the house just about plummet. "To think I rate such a high level watchman."

"Your wellbeing is of the highest priority to the company," Tseng agrees. "I'm here to ensure your recovery goes by smoothly so that you can return to your duties promptly."

Arching a brow, Sephiroth folds his arms. Well, isn't that a corporate speech if he's ever heard it. "I'm honoured," he says. "Though I thought the highest priority for me was to, what was it… stay here and get my shit together?"

Tseng's expression doesn't even twitch. "According to Reno's and Rude's reports, your shit seems to be held together remarkably well."

… oh? Smiling a little, Sephiroth looks Tseng up and down. "You'd think so, hm?"

Tseng is quiet for a moment before clasping his hands behind his back. "We shall see. For now, you should act as though nothing has changed. Pretend I'm not even here. I won't disturb your training."

"I don't think I can," Sephiroth muses, testing the waters. "Your very presence is disturbing."

Not even a twitch of an eye lash. "Are you disturbed now?"

Oh, what a bitch! Sephiroth likes him already. "I guess we shall see, at that. Now, where is Angeal?" he glances around, even though he knows Angeal didn't come back with Tseng.

"On a mission, I presume," Tseng says, and Sephiroth casts him a sharp look. Tseng faces him blandly. "Judging by the reports, his presence here was largely unnecessary to your progress. It is an inefficient use of company resources to have two First Class SOLDIERs indefinitely off the clock. He is taking up your missions here in Wutai."

Sephiroth can feel his own expression growing blank. "I didn't agree to that."

"It was assumed you didn't mind," Tseng says calmly. "Seeing as you didn't seem interested in completing your missions yourself, they were simply passed down the chain. To Angeal."

"It would've been nice to have been consulted on that," Sephiroth says firmly.

"Would you have taken on the missions if you'd known?" Tseng asks with the slightest arch of his brows. "Because unless you would have, your opinion had no bearing on the matter going forward. "

… Okay, ouch. "I see," Sephiroth says, his voice growing low. "Will Angeal be returning here once he's done?"

Tseng blinks at him, slowly. "This location isn't near any of the current points of interest in Wutai. That's why it was selected for your use. It's much more practical for Angeal to stay in the town."

Ah. Well, well, if it isn't those company shackles he'd been happily ignoring. Damn. "... So it's just you and me here, huh?" Sephiroth asks unhappily.

"Only until you feel fit to return to taking on missions," Tseng says and then asks, pointedly, "Do you have an estimate on how much longer will your cultivation training take?"

Sephiroth looks at him closely, but it's hard to say what Tseng thinks - or what he knows. The man just looks at him coolly, expectantly. "I suppose that's another thing we will have to see, isn't it?" Sephiroth answers, just to be contrary. "Alright - do you need help finding a room, Tseng of the Turks?"

Tseng considers him for an uncomfortably long time and then says, "I think I can manage. I will set up in the room vacated by Reno, unless you have objections."

"Be my guest," Sephiroth says and then watches as the man heads inside. Then he looks out to the yard - to the training field Angeal had cleared out for him.

It doesn't seem quite as comfortable as before, all of a sudden.

Of course their stay here was always going to be temporary, and Sephiroth hadn't exactly expected them to leave together. It's just that… he'd figured he'd be leaving first, to parts unknown, maybe with Angeal, but probably not. Angeal is still too loyal to the company - honestly, and he might very well stay loyal until the degradation would begin. Which is… something Sephiroth still hadn't figured out a solution for. Beyond a regular Qi-transfer, maybe.

Shit. He'd procrastinated too long, hadn't he? He'd gotten complacent. He always gets complacent.

Now the matter of Genesis and Angeal might be out of his hands. The company is isolating him, for whatever reason, he doesn't even care. It's manipulation, either way. Now Angeal is out there, maybe killing people in his stead, and Sephiroth has no say in the matter. And Sephiroth is alone with no friends to lean on, as the head Turk in command begins prodding him for results.

Great. Wonderful. Such fun.

Closing his eyes briefly, Sephiroth sighs and then looks up at the darkening night sky.

Tick-tock, goes the clock, as time starts running out.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Top 10 list of the most biologically curious Houses of Gallifrey

Gallifreyan Houses are notoriously secretive about what they get up to with their Looms, but when's that ever stopped GIL? Here's GIL's top 10 list of the most biologically curious Houses. All of these are highly theoretical and is a rewrite of a much longer post.

10. 🍷 House Heartshaven – The Sommeliers Known for its exquisite vineyards and the coveted Hartshaven Wine, their loom might enhance their senses, allowing them to taste and smell wine like no one else. Maybe they even influence wine ageing. Who knows?

9. 👠 House Tracolix – The Fashionistas Masters of adaptability, their loom might allow them to physically alter their appearance on the fly to stay on top of trends.

8. 🏚️ House Catherion – The Unfortunates Extinct due to a genetic experiment gone wrong, they probably had an unstable loom that could produce both powerful and catastrophic mutations for their cousins.

7. 🪞 House Mirraflex – The Angry People With biology suited for combat, they likely have enhanced adrenal systems, pain tolerance, and possibly empathy suppression. They're born for battle, not bedtime stories.

6. 🐺 House Dvora – The Wolf Pack Operating like a wolf pack, they likely have advanced social cognition and pheromonal communication. These Gallifreyans are all about hierarchy and loyalty. Arooo!

5. 📚 House Lineacrux – The Old Men Their loom makes them look old and frail, perfect camouflage to quietly manipulate things from the background while everyone else underestimates them.

4. 🩸 House Deeptree – The Shady Maybe Vampires With a vampiric obsession, their biology could be shaped by what they preach. They might have advanced healing, heightened senses, and superior night vision, and maybe even an alternative diet. Or, it's just cool stories they tell the kids, and they're all perfectly normal, thank you very much.

3. 🛸 House Lolita – The Timeship Founded by a sentient timeship, this House is a hybrid of organic and mechanical biology. Its members inherit temporal abilities and sentient ship-like qualities from Lolita.

2. 🧪 House Meddhoran – The Hybrids They experimented with lesser species, leading to a variety of hybrid abilities—super senses or immune issues—and you never really know what you're going to get.

1. 🔬 House Arpexia – The Biofundamentalists This scientifically-driven House likely has advanced night vision, magnetoception, and a rationality-favouring brain structure. Due to their neurochemical balance, they're prone to hallucinatory hysterics.

Alternate Number One

The House below isn't recognised by Gallifrey, but it's probably the MOST biologically interesting.

We don't talk about the -👤 House of Shadows Rumoured to contain those whose regenerations went wrong—like incomplete transformations or paradoxical forms. Their biology could lead to unique abilities, high-level psychic powers or complete abominations ... but no one's talking.

Honourable Mentions

None of these Houses/groups are recognised by Gallifrey, thus don't make the list, but are still extremely interesting.

😈 House Celestis - The Oh My Gods Transcended physical form and now exist in a memetic state, sustained by collective belief.

⌛ Faction Paradox - The Troublemakers Temporal tricksters who reject Time Lord orthodoxy and use paradoxes to navigate time, and hide weapons in their shadows.

🕰️ Nechronmancers - The Time Deniers Defy Time Lord norms by rejecting the concept of time. Their advanced temporal manipulation skills suggest neurological adaptations and extremely enhanced time lobes.

Gallifreyan Biology for Tuesday by GIL

Any purple text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired😴

[sukunasweetheart]

Wip game !!!

rules — list the names/titles of docs in your WIP folder + open your inbox to have people ask about them!

tagged by the sweetest of them all, @vagabond-umlaut ty babes 💗

Nervous abt this bc ummm i have sooo many wips that i literally never know will ever come out so please take all of them with a grain of salt haha 😄 also most of them dont have very nice title, anything mentioned here is prone to change in the future <3

Of ancient spells and a true love's kiss - sukuna x reader, fantasy au

A tiger and his milk! - sukuna x reader, omegaverse(?) Hybrid au fic

Oh my sweet little farmer 🌸 - sukuna x reader, based on stardew valley

A precious child, a wanted child - sukuna x reader, hidden baby trope, heian era(?)

You're the only good thing in my life - sukuna x reader, modern au, tutor x student (sukuna is the student)

Fickle hearted - sukuna x reader (a bit of choso x reader), college au, love triangle (this wip is on the verge of being scrapped tho...)

Your soul is mine to heal - trueform sukuna x goddess!reader (this one is an old, old wip...)

Honourable mentions (ideas ive had for a while but haven't really started writing properly yet)

Bully!sukuna x reader smut (sukuna turns mildly submissive...)

Sukuna and his vampire girlfriend

Love potion trope with sukuna

Bakery au with the itadori family

Possible extra parts for this drabble

[Open tags!]

[octuscle]

My friend’s in search of a pool boy for August. He recently told me to download this Chronoviac app to help him look. We’re buds, so I agreed, even though I suspect by “pool boy” he just wants me to keep an eye out for twunks. But while I thought it would be like Craigslist or maybe Uber or something, the link he sent me just has one big button: “ACTIVATE SCENARIO”. Am I supposed to press that? Am I doing this right?

It's early in the morning. You still have some time before you have to go to work, so you can have a look at it. And hey, it's your buddy, what can happen? Push the button!

If you need to think, it's best to go for a run first. That clears your head. And obviously you need a clear head. Since when do you go running in the morning? You have running shorts and top hanging above your desk chair. There are running shoes in the hallway with not-so-fresh socks in them. You are really confused. But your morning 10-kilometre run is clearly in your mind's eye. So you get ready and start running.

Fuck, that was a good time for the distance. You are in top form today. A quick protein shake and then get into your hybrid Hyundai and off to work. It's really hard for you to concentrate at your desk today… For one thing, it's hard for you to sit still and not move. On the other hand, you find the air conditioning incredibly stuffy. Fortunately, as the day goes on, you receive fewer and fewer enquiries about the planning figures for the next year. Instead, you are asked every now and then to look for a blocked drain or a defective socket. Actually, that's not the job of controlling now. But you are happy when you can get out and move around.

During your lunch break you go to the company gym. There's usually no one there at that time. But only losers take lunch. A big protein shake after training is enough for you. When you go to your locker after training, your suit is gone. Dios mio, you think, why is there an overall with "Janitor Marques" hanging in the locker? You get annoyed every time that your engineering master's degree from the Dominican Republic is not accepted here. You studied climate engineering. And you graduated with honours. And here you are allowed to refill toilet paper and repair the flush. Fucking gringos. And the money isn't even enough for a decent life. But luckily your little pool service business is doing quite well. Someone was looking for help on the noticeboard at the gym. The guy who advertised the job sounds chilled out and you can even use the pool by arrangement. In return, you have to maintain the equipment, clean the pool and the terrace and occasionally help out at pool parties. At the university in Santo Domingo, you were a popular DJ at student parties. Maybe you can do the same here.

After work, you hop in your pickup truck and drive to the guy looking for pool service. The interview goes close and smoothly. Finally, your new client, who is a pretty hot guy, asks if you'd like to try out the pool. And takes off his shirt. You follow his example without hesitation. The first pool party can begin!

[avis-writeshq]

Welcome to Golden: a milestone event!

Welcome to Golden: a milestone event!

I am honoured to announce that we have reached 2.1k on this blog! To properly commemorate this momentous occasion, you are invited to join Golden: a milestone event where guests from across the world will be invited. As such, please enjoy our festivities filled with music, writing, and requests for your enjoyment!

Thank you to everyone who has supported me during this time! I truly appreciate every single one of you 💜

THIS EVENT HAS ENDED ! THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT ! 💙

▹ track one: i once believed love would be

requests are open! these fics will be at least 500 words for each request and will also be set in the canon universe. please see below in regards to the requesting guidelines.

guidelines:

in order for me to complete a request, it needs to have a character and a story/plot line. the characters i am currently taking requests for can be found at the end of this post. 

i currently write only for fem!reader because that is what i have experience in and because i haven’t figured out the mechanics for gn!reader or male!reader.

i do not write smut (suggestive is ok!), gore, or cheating (done by/on reader), loss of child, incest, poly relationships or age regression. i have the right to delete or deny any requests that come through my inbox. 

do not send me a request that you have already sent to another author. it’s icky, it’s iffy, and it ends up with at least one person getting hurt. it’s just a generally not great thing to do and i recommend not doing it at all. i understand that it might take longer than desired for your request to come out, but that doesn’t change the fact that the people who are writing these fics are exactly that: people.

please be patient! i am currently working three jobs and each of them carry their own demands. i will most definitely get to your request, but these things do take time. 

▹ track two: black and white 

ask games!  these games include: fmk, general asks (ask me any question and i will answer!), etc.

find a list of ask games below:

emoji ask game ‼️ colour ask game (open to everyone) ‼️ character ask game ‼️ WIP ask game ‼️

▹ track three: but it’s golden

alternate universe! send me a character in a situation that isn’t the norm (eg. single dad!spencer reid, rockstar!remus lupin) and i’ll write a drabble about it.

same rules & guidelines as track one.

i do not write hybrid!au, stoner!au or priest/religious!au. 

▹ track four: like daylight

bonus track : remix! send me an ask about a fic that i’ve already written (eg. sparks fly!reader, train rides!reader) and send a request based on those characters. this could mean asking directly for a spin-off or a short ‘part two’ to any of my existing standalone fics. please provide the character and the title of the fic that you would like me to remix &lt;3

for example: how would sparks fly!reader react to post prison!reid?

same rules & guidelines as track one.

▹ outro: singers & songwriters

here is a list of the characters i am willing to write for during this event!

criminal minds:

spencer reid, aaron hotchner

haikyuu:

tsukishima kei, kenma kozume, oikawa tooru, iwaizumi hajime, akaashi keiji, bokuto koutaro, miya atsumu, miya osamu, kita shinsuke, suna rintaro, sakusa kiyoomi

boku no hero academia:

bakugou katsuki, midoriya izuku, todoroki shoto, tamaki amajiki

dc superheroes:

damian wayne, richard ‘dick’ grayson, jason todd, tim drake

harry potter:

remus lupin, sirius black, james potter, albus severus potter, scorpius malfoy, ominis gaunt, sebastian sallow, garreth weasley, fred weasley, george weasley

‼️ i no longer write fanfiction about real people. (aka, no rpf. sorry!) ‼️

here are some examples as to what your request should look like!

▹ hi! could i request track one with spencer reid where he gets drunk and reader takes care of him please? thank you!

▹ hello! could i request track four with detention!damian wayne please? where reader suffers from nightmares following the attack? thank you!

thank you once again to everyone who has supported me throughout this journey!! i can't wait to write your requests <3

tagging some mutuals 💙

@violetrainbow412-blog @shotosjupiter @astrophileous @dream-a-little-bigger-x @aperrywilliams @fuckinglevi @kitashousewife @229zmi @atrirose @haisuken @enluv @kentoangel @shiishki @ceo-of-daichi @cotton-charms @kageyuji

[safetycar-restart]

Hey I was just wondering if you'd want to expand on the concept of cat!max that is like protective of reader because reader is His dom , His partner and is the only person that he tolerates wich means to max that they His

I'm so glad we're all talking about cat!max more because it's such a good concept I love this.

So firstly, yeah max is a very protective partner in general. Even before he was comfortable showing all his cat instincts, he just... he felt comfortable with you? And he knew that was something to be treasured, and he had to make sure that no one else ruined it. He knows that people don't see him as a kind or loving person, and he's so scared that someone will try to talk you out of being with him, so he needs to make sure that doesn't happen.

I've never even considered this before, but I definitely think that max's instincts would start showing more when you start domming him. He just feels so relaxed after scenes, and so so safe.

Maybe the first time he really, truly purrs in front of you is after a scene? He’s just so relaxed and feels so nice and safe that when you pull him into your arms for cuddles, he can’t help the way he just starts purring. He doesn't even notice he's doing it at first, because he's just so happy and comfy. He nuzzles against your chest, clinging to you and purring to his heart's content.

You don't say a word about it, just kiss his head and rub his back. You know if you say something he'll get self conscious and stop, and considering how purring can be a form of stress relief, you know he needs this.

You discuss it with him after, and he tries to apologise for being annoying and letting his instincts get the best of him. You don't allow this apology of course, promising him that you feel so honoured to have heard his purring and would be honoured to hear it again.

It gets a little easier after that, but he definitely still shows off his cat side more when he's feeling subby.

You are his partner and his dom and eventually he starts to realise he can show his cat side around you as his partner the same way he can around you as his dom, and that's when he REALLY starts to get possessive.

He'll hiss and swat at anyone he views as a threat, especially other subby cat hybrids. Lando keeps on trying to get max to agree to a double date and the last time he asked, he nearly lost an eye because there's no way max is letting Lando anywhere near you, not even when Lando is bringing his own partner with.

I also think max tends to hoard you? He loves when you come with him to race weekends, but the moment you arrive at the track he tucks you away in his driver room with some snacks and comfy pillows and the wifi code. He doesn't want you wondering around the red bull garage where tons of people can talk to you and try to get with you, because no! You are max's!!

Even when he wins, he doesn't even want you to come to the podium ceremony because so many people would push and touch you to try to get to him. Instead he's much happier showing you his trophy in private after, curled up in your lap and giving you a play by play of the entire race.