Greetingsss everyone. I can officially sssay with confidence that my tailoring busssinesss isss offically open~! I work in the ground floor of my home and am well ssstocked with ssseveral hand-made cloth goodsss as lisssted on the chalkboard outssside. If I do not have sssomething you need or you need sssomething cussstom made for you, do not hesssitate to assk. 

Doctor Who AU
  • Shiro: we've got to become stronger and defeat Zarkon! I--
  • The Doctor: -Tardis appears in control room- -The Doctor steps out- ......
  • Paladins: ......
  • The Doctor: Now that's some fancy get up you're wearing there :D
  • Keith: who the hell are you?
  • The Doctor: I'm the Doctor, pleasure doing business with you -starts fiddling with the tardis, mumbling to himself-
  • Lance, walking into the tardis: what the quiznak! ITS BIGGER ON THE FUCKING INSIDE--PIDGE ARE YOU SEEING THIS--
  • Pidge: -overheating-

So I have this headcanon in which Newt Scamander was once the doctor’s companion and that’s what inspired Newt to use bigger on the inside magic/ technology on his suitcase for his beasts. (Ofcourse the doctor helped him here.)

(Credit: This is the original artist of the art

anonymous asked:

Writing prompt: oviposition, just that

(((Alllllllright alright I know I don’t give the ovi crowd enough “straight ovi, no chaser” so here goes nothin’)))

Dash had never been extremely wild about beaches (unless he could claim a cabana on them) – and this particular trip to the beach wasn’t doing a lot to change his mind.

“Of course there were gonna be kraken motherfuckers waiting to ambush me the second I fell asleep before high tide,” Dash thought as a suction-cupped tentacle tightened its grip around his leg… his ENTIRE damn leg.

He’d been fucked by tentacle… “things” before. He understood the inevitability of… the fucking. Expecting this time to be no different, Dash tried to relax his breathing and focus on whatever arousing aspects of the experience that he could: the firm grasp of the creature, the pleasant tingling of the thing’s aphrodisiac-laced fluids as they dripped onto his crotch… the way the smaller suctioning tendrils lapped at his chest and played with his nipples…

The spell was pretty much broken immediately, though, when one tentacle snaked bodily up his ass and another down his throat in perfect freaking tandem.

Feeling like a shish kabob on a slimy skewer, Dash tried to twist around and make himself even a little more comfortable. His breath started coming in pants and his dick sprung to instant attention as the ass tentacle slammed against his prostate on its upward journey… and upward… and upward… snaking its way with impossible strength through his colon. Dash noticed through the haze of unwanted arousal that his belly was already beginning to puff outward, little ridges appearing on either side as his colon was excavated.

The throat tentacle was making its way a little more slowly, eventually brushing the walls of his stomach. It promptly swelled up a little more in his mouth, producing a futile gag, and began painting his insides with thick, steaming juices. Dash’s stomach grumbled, then bubbled, then swelled further as the gelatinous fluid was pumped in, in thick, hot pulses.

And then (“Riiiiiight on schedule,” Dash thought with wry resignation, “FUCKING eggs”) the tentacle invading his rear end swelled bigger at its base inside of him, forcing Dash to shriek around the appendage in his gullet. The firm, solid swelling struck his prostate heartily, and Dash saw stars as his own dick finally spurt jets of cum. The post-orgasm exhaustion was quickly replaced by the panic-adrenaline of feeling that first egg traveling so, SO god damn deep, packing itself in behind his navel and tenting the skin of his belly outward in an obscene lump.

Six or however-many-the-fuck-were-left eggs followed behind the first one, each one accompanied by a couple supporting spurts of gel from the tentacle shoved down his throat. The eggs struck each other inside his guts with a dull “plock” sound and a sick vibration. Dash’s abdomen engorged steadily, roiling and aching more intensely with each hefty egg and each blast of slime. By the end of the ordeal, he was cumming dry, tears of sheer exertion staining his face.

When both the tentacles removed themselves with slurping, wet pops, Dash lay in the sand and let the cool tide try to distract him from his massive, packed middle. If he raised his head, he couldn’t see his dick over the strained dome his belly had become. Every breath shifted the eggs around and stirred up horrendous wet groaning noises.

He put both trembling hands on the firm, sweltering skin of his gut and sighed.

“Fuck it… at least I didn’t get sand in my ass crack.”