Pairing: Rennick x Caz | Rating: General Audiences | Genre: Fluff
Summary : It’s Christmas on our beloved and much-appreciated Beira D, and Rennick is stressed—as always—running at a full 180. But even our beloved old diva has his limits. Luckily, that old idiot has Caz.
Pairing: Rennick x Caz | Rating: General Audiences | Genre: Sad and fluff
Summary : Rennick is old and has seen much of the world, collecting beautiful memories along the way. Many of them are with Caz. But every person reaches their end eventually. And so does Rennick, who leaves this world in peace. Caz doesn’t quite know how he’s supposed to live without him. What awaits him is grief, memories — and one brief, sweet, yet painful reunion.
Summary : Just a sweet moment with the two of them cuddling together.
Heart Beneath the Steel
Pairing: Rennick x Caz | Rating: General Audiences | Genre:family Fluff
Summary :(Caz and Rennick are on vacation for a few weeks, and Caz is staying with Rennick during that time.) Rennick is looking after his two granddaughters this weekend, and Caz is tagging along. It’s going to be a great time, and Caz sees Rennick in a whole new light. And he’s thinking of his daughters, too.
In the eye of the storm
Pairing: Rennick x Caz | Rating: Mature | Genre:fluff, Lots of flirting
Summary: °°Before he can even begin to grasp a clear thought or calm his racing pulse, he feels Rennick’s light stubble against his ear again. Rennick leans in, his lips almost brushing the earlobe, and whispers with a dryness that sounds almost cruelly matter-of-fact: “Ye’re truly terrifyin’ easy tae knock aff balance, McLeary.”°°
The Labyrinth of Echoes
Pairing: Rennick x OC | Rating: General Audiences | Genre: Fluff, g/t, borrower
Summary : You don’t need to know the game Still Wakes the Deep to follow this story, because I’m definitely not following the canon. I’m doing my own thing here. (I'm just a huge Rennick - and g/t fan.) Expect lots of G/T fluff, slow burn, and a deep dive into the relationship between a Human and a Borrower. And this story is all about one such Borrower. He lives secretly within the walls of Rennick’s house. But what if the two of them meet and somehow become friends? Or even more interesting, a Borrower on an oil rig!
Cadal Oil: The Price of Inefficiency
TW : Vore, hard Vore, digestion, Fatal Vore
Summary: At the Cadal Oil Corporation, corporate inefficiency carries a drakonian price tag. Anyone who underperforms is immediately terminated. But at this ruthless high-seas empire, termination is not the end of a contract—it is the final, horrific disposal of your very existence.
OMG TYSMM FOR THR TAG @maithaofthezora , WE BOTH GOT PARIS OMG 🥹 . IMMA TAG A BUNVH OF MOOTS AND FRIENDS @veronaxox @sillyt1ll7 @ultracunt7 @dollyzbun @fiftiesdrivein @just-a-girly22 @lipglossandlacee @lilthsprincessxx @littlemisslacey @angels-dollie @asp4rtame @anqeld0ll @coquetteangel333 @doxxedteenvictim
Tags: @necrophiliacnymphette @irisislost @gleno0phobia @jonahinthemotorboatah @ all my moots (Sorry I'm lazy and I don't remember all usernames) Don't feel pressured to do it !!
thanks @rowofurviolets ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ
i lwk dont know who to tag so imma just pick random moots (srry in advance if you dont wanna be tagged)
@igbrotein @prettyboyconsumebydeath @yujicorn @who0ishope @sp3ll-b0und2 @ethicallycainn
Here are mine and thank you for tagging me. It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these. I don’t got many people to tag for this challenge but yall join in if you want!
SWTD from Rennick's POV must be completely insane.
No cause imagine instead of going on your planned Christmas vacation with your twin grandkids, Cadal puts you and your platform under notice for underdelivery and traps you in the middle of the ocean over Christmas with a bunch of sweaty Scottish men (who are also pissed about having to stay over Christmas with no bonus) while tightening your schedule cause seriously where is our oil.
Not only that but imagine on Boxing Day you're busy chewing out one of said sweaty Scottish men for secretly being on the run from the police and threatening police presence on the Beira when you get a call from the drilling personnel who are like "Rennick??? Rennick, there's something in the way of the drill, Rennick..."
like are we well? That is precisely why you have a drill, my guys.
Please be honest with yourself and others about generating AI images and tracing over them, as well as using AI assistance to write. Like, Rennick has two pockets with high-viz striping in your Pride post. There are inconsistencies everywhere that just cannot be attributed to human error. Caz calling Rennick a 'fat Scottish bastard' when he himself is Scottish and Rennick having monitors and keyboards in his office.
Please don't use AI, I'm begging you.
Honestly?
I’ve
had
enough!!!
I have absolutely no desire to keep justifying my work just because people like you have nothing better to do than look for flaws to defame me with accusations of using AI. I do not use AI. Neither for my images nor for my texts. Period. The fact that you’re fixating on a few pockets on a coat just shows how little you understand about the creative process. Yes, sometimes I vary details in my drawings. Imagine that: I don't have my character design set in stone; I draw them one way at one time and a different way at another because I am not a photocopier and I don’t have a reference in front of me for every single little thing. It’s art, not a technical manual.
And regarding your 'analysis results': Yes, I make mistakes. We all make mistakes. So, Caz made a comment that didn't make logical sense, good for you for noticing. I am a human being, not a flawless AI that spits out 100% consistent output. It is an utter impertinence for you to attack me like this.
I explicitly mentioned in my Borrower AU that I am writing it in the year 2012 because it is easier for me to keep the setting consistent. I write my Borrower stuff in 2012 and, surprise, my Shortfuse stories in 1975. The fact that I might have briefly forgotten in one of those stories that there were no computers or modern monitors in 1975 is a human error in writing. If you want to try to sell that as proof of AI usage, that is just pathetic. I put an incredible amount of time and effort into everything I share here. If that doesn't suit you, or if you think you have to suspect AI behind every line or every word, then keep your accusations to yourself or just read something else. I don't have the time or the nerves for your arrogant insinuations. Leave me alone with this garbage!!!
Hey, just a dumb question! Are you perhaps tracing over like, bases when you draw digitally, I like your art a lot but it changes a lot too!
To answer your question directly: No, I don’t trace over bases. Like pretty much every other digital artist, I do use references, usually from Pinterest, to help me get the hang of poses, anatomy, or lighting.
The reason my drawings often look so different is simply that I don’t want to be locked into one single "fixed" style. I love experimenting with different approaches and switching things up. I actually don’t think that’s as unusual as people might assume: there are so many artists who don't just stay in one stylistic box, but instead adapt their look depending on the project or their mood. My "style" is really just about variety!
(Rennick looks a little weird, I know, somehow I just couldn't get it right.... I think I've drawn him too many times now, and I can't draw him properly anymore -_-)
"Thicc Rennick (like dummy thicc) x Caz where Caz dominates Rennick and gives him a good time in exchange for Rennick to lie and say Caz left the rig to keep him hidden. If you’re still doing requests for this.sorry I just see Rennick having more so stronger and thicker thighs."
A request from someone on Ao3.
Hehehe :3
Here's the link to Ao3
The metallic stench of machine oil and the ceaseless, low rumble of the North Sea vibrated through the walls of Rennick's office. The atmosphere in the tight cabin of the OIM was so charged that the air practically crackled. Rennick stared at the official letter from the police lying on the desk in front of him. He shook his head in utter disbelief. His soft middle, the result of late-night raids on the galley, rose and fell in quick, angry breaths.
Directly in front of him stood Caz. Six feet of pure, wiry muscle, the broad shoulders of a former boxer leaning casually against the steel door. Mid-forties, insolent, loud, and currently on the run.
"Ye’ve brought the bloody police onto ma rig," Rennick growled, his deep voice trembling with barely contained fury. He held up the letter. "A brawl. Grievous bodily harm. They’re lookin’ for ye, McLeary. And ye’ve the sheer cheek tae hide yersel’ on ma platform?"
"I had nae choice, Rennick," Caz replied. Though his words sounded like an apology, his voice held that dark, dominant calm that had always driven Rennick mad. He took a slow step toward the desk. "Ye need tae tell them I left the rig this mornin' on the supply boat. Wipe me fae the logs. Hide me."
"I’ll sack ye on the spot!" Rennick barked at him, trying to stand up. "I'm handin' ye over tae the authorities. Ye’re a hazard tae ma rig, a hazard tae ma reputation. Get oot o' ma sight!" Rennick hissed.
They hated each other. At least, that was the official version they sold to their crewmates and themselves. But beneath the hostility lay a deep, almost painful dependency. Neither of them could exist without the friction of the other.
Caz stepped closer, until he stood directly in front of the seated OIM. He leaned down, bracing his hands on the armrests of Rennick’s chair, blocking any escape. The former boxer shamelessly used his physical presence.
"Please, Rennick," Caz whispered, the word less of a plea and more of a soft blackmail. His dark eyes locked onto the older man. "I'm beggin' ye. Dae me this favour. If ye hand me over noo, I'm done for. And deep doon, ye want me here. Ye need me."
"I need ye like a burst pipe," Rennick spat, but his breath hitched, turning shallow. The sheer proximity of the younger, larger man made his knees turn to water. He hated how easily Caz could play him, and he hated even more that Caz was right.
Caz’s gaze drifted slowly down Rennick’s body. He took in the thick, soft belly beneath the work shirt and the massive, plump thighs straining against the dark fabric of his trousers. A dark, possessive smirk crept onto Caz’s lips. He knew exactly how to bribe the stubborn sixty-two-year-old.
"I’ll gie ye a grand time, Davey. A damn grand time. In exchange for yer wee lie in the logbook."
Rennick swallowed hard. His hand, still clutching the police letter, trembled slightly. The deal was highly illegal, unprofessional, and utterly irresistible.
"Once," he choked out. "And after that, I dinna want tae hear another word aboot it."
Caz didn’t waste a second. With the controlled strength and speed of a boxer, he grabbed Rennick by the collar of his shirt, pulling the older man forward. He wasn't thinking about penetrative sex, they didn't need that today, but he wanted absolute control. He wanted Rennick to feel his own heavy, soft mass completely trapped beneath him.
"Breeks doon, boss," Caz commanded softly.
Rennick gasped, but the OIM obeyed. He unbuckled his belt and pushed his heavy work trousers and underwear down until they bared his massive, thick thighs. These thighs were incredibly soft, broad, and radiated an immense heat.
Caz pressed Rennick deeper into the office chair, stepping directly between his wide-spread, heavy legs and gripping Rennick’s plump thighs with his large hands. His fingers sank deep into the soft flesh, leaving red marks on the pale skin.
"Ye’re sae heavy, Davey," Caz murmured, leaning over to press his lips against Rennick's ear. "Sae damn thicc. A body can tell exactly where a’ that secret sugar fae the galley’s endin’ up."
"Shut yer mouth, McLeary," Rennick groaned in torment, but his head snapped back as Caz's skilled hand wrapped around his hard, throbbing length.
Caz dominated the rhythm completely. His hand gripped Rennick’s cock tightly, driving him with fast, merciless strokes while his other hand kneaded the soft fat at Rennick’s hips and his massive inner thighs. He gave the older man no room to breathe. Every time Rennick tried to twist away or reclaim control, Caz pressed his hand hard into Rennick's hip or thigh, holding him fast.
Rennick groaned loudly, the sound swallowed by the loud hum of the ventilation. His massive legs trembled under Caz's firm grip, and he clawed helplessly at Caz’s broad shoulders. He hated this arrogant bastard, but right now, in the cramped confines of his office, the heat of Caz’s body felt like his only salvation from the loneliness of the North Sea.
"Caz... damn it... I'm comin'," Rennick gasped, his eyes shut tight as his entire, heavy frame shuddered under the precise stimulation.
"No' without ma permission, boss," Caz whispered darkly, slowing his hand for an agonizing second until Rennick nearly whimpered. Only when he saw the absolute surrender on the older man's face did he speed up again. "Noo. Cum for me."
With a deep, choked cry, Rennick spilled in thick bursts over Caz’s hand and his own massive thighs. His heavy body slumped completely exhausted back into the chair, his thick legs trembling and spread wide.
Caz smiled triumphantly as he grabbed a cloth to wipe them both clean. He ran his hand gently over the soft flesh of Rennick’s thigh one last time before straightening up and tossing the rag away.
Rennick breathed heavily, pulling his trousers back up and looking at the police letter on the desk. He took a pen, crossing Caz’s name off the day's duty roster with a quick, decisive stroke, adding a handwritten note: *Departed on supply vessel at 06:00.*
He didn’t look up as he set the paper aside. "Ye’re a bastard, McLeary."
If you’re still wanting to do either writing or drawing requests I got one. Caz and Rennick safe vore. Like the first one you did where Rennick does fear play. In your AU, you said that ppl who did poorly on the job were sent to be disposed of by Rennick. Rennick pretends he will send Caz to his demise only to reveal at the very end that Rennick is going to keep Caz as his own personal tiny. Caz gets to live n all that as Rennick takes care of him from now on. Safe vore just Rennick being Rennick as always. The drawing can be after where Rennick’s all smug and Caz is ticked in his stomach. Sorry for how long this was, it’s your writings cool.
Hehe, that was fun to write, and it has potential for a few short sequels. (Any other ideas for these two from you guys?)
The whipping North Atlantic rain drummed like a volley of buckshot against the reinforced windows of David Rennick’s office. Inside, a stifling, artificial light hung over the room, only fueling the already grim atmosphere.
Caz stood on the smooth surface of the massive desk. He was barely ten centimeters tall.
The reality of this twisted world had hit him with full force. Anyone who failed at Cadal Oil received the infamous letter. The summons to the mainland. At headquarters, you weren’t fired, you were shrunk. Turned into the biological property of the corporation, sent back to the rig to be permanently "disposed of" by the massive form of the Installation Manager. A lethal, bureaucratic end. Caz had bungled a crucial circuit, the platform had lost power for two hours, and now here he stood. A tiny piece of prey.
In truth, Caz and Rennick had shared a classic hate relationship back when Caz was normal-sized. Caz, the mouthy, stubborn electrician who took crap from no one. Rennick, the ruthless dictator who demanded discipline with an iron fist. They had shouted at each other, cursed each other's names.
And even now, small and utterly defenseless, Caz damn well refused to back down. He stood barefoot on the wood, arms crossed firmly over his chest, legs planted wide apart. He glared up at the giant man with blazing eyes.
"Ye think I’m shakin' before ye, Rennick?" Caz shouted up with his tiny but fiercely energetic voice. "Just because ye can squash me like a damp midge now? Ye’re a bloody tyrant! Send me off to death with the others, see if I care! But look me in the eye while ye do it, ye cowardly Scottish bastard!"
Rennick sat unmoved in his desk chair. He rested his elbows on the armrests, fingers interlaced, and his dark eyes scrutinized the tiny electrician with a gaze that was hard to read. It wasn't anger. It was… pure, sadistic fascination.
He loved it. He loved that Caz, even as a ten-centimeter worm, was still trying to call the shots. Most of the others shriveled into themselves with fear, whimpering and begging. But Caz? Caz shot poisoned arrows.
A slow, malicious smirk stole across Rennick’s broad face. He leaned forward slowly, his massive upper body blocking out the light, casting a dark shadow over Caz.
"Ye’ve still got a bloody massive mouth for someone whose life fits right inside my waistcoat pocket, Caz,"Rennick’s deep bass voice rumbled. His heavy Scottish brogue vibrated so violently through the desk wood that Caz felt the tremors rattle the soles of his feet.
To provoke the little man, Rennick slowly raised his colossal hand. He splayed his fingers and lowered the pad of his giant index finger. Quite slowly, almost casually, he prodded Caz right in the chest with the tip of his finger.
"Hey! Get off!" Caz cursed, swinging angrily at the finger, but the giant's sheer mass was unbeatable. The gentle nudge was enough to throw the tiny electrician off balance. Caz stumbled clumsily back three steps and landed right on his backside, swearing loudly.
Rennick let out a deep, infinitely amused laugh. "Look at ye, stompin’ around like a fierce wee badger. But a badger in a cage is still just a snack, laddie."
Caz scrambled angrily back to his feet, dusting off his tiny trousers, and balled his fists. "Go to hell, Rennick! Just get it over with!"
That was the cue the Installation Manager had been waiting for. His amused expression instantly froze into the ice-cold, emotionless mask he always wore when disposing of a victim for Cadal. The game was over. At least, that's what Caz thought.
Effortlessly and with terrifying speed, Rennick’s hand shot forward. His thick, warm fingers closed unyieldingly around Caz’s entire upper body. The electrician’s arms were pinned tightly to his sides. Caz tried to thrash, kicking his feet against David’s thumb, but the grip was like a vice made of flesh and blood.
Rennick lifted him up, right in front of his face. He slowly opened his mouth.
A yawning, wet abyss opened before Caz. The intense smell of bitter coffee and heavy tobacco washed over him. The white rows of teeth gleamed menacingly in the dim light.
In that moment, as the giant’s hot breath brushed his skin and the yawning throat was only millimeters away, Caz’s facade shattered. His brave, loud defiance was instantly wiped away. Stark, biological mortal terror took the wheel. His eyes grew wide and round, his breath came in quick, shallow gasps, and a violent trembling seized every muscle of his small body.
"No… David, wait… please…" Caz suddenly stammered, his voice cracking with pure panic. "Dinnae do it. Ye cannae do this… David!"
Rennick didn't answer. He relished the panic twitching through his victim's tiny limbs, savoring the sudden shift in power. Very slowly and methodically, he slid Caz feet first between his lips.
The moment Caz’s bare legs touched the scalding hot, wet surface of Rennick’s colossal tongue, a strangled cry escaped the little man. The heat was absolutely overwhelming, almost numbing. Rennick deliberately drew out the game. He didn't swallow Caz immediately; instead, he sealed his lips around his waist, holding him there. In the damp darkness, Caz felt the manager's massive tongue sliding back and forth beneath him, licking his legs, truly tasting him. A deep, infinitely satisfied hum vibrated from Rennick’s throat, a dull earthquake that made Caz feel trapped in a shuddering hell.
Caz was nearly weeping with fear, gripping desperately onto Rennick’s lip as he was pulled out a fraction, only to be shoved back in headfirst the next second. His vision went completely pitch-black. Rennick’s mouth enclosed him, the massive tongue rolling him playfully against the smooth palate. Caz was utterly convinced these were his last seconds on earth.
Then the floor tilted beneath him. Rennick constricted the muscles at the back of his throat. The unstoppable, wet swallowing reflex engulfed the small electrician.
*Gulp.*
The walls of the esophagus closed around Caz in a brutal, claustrophobic squeeze. It was a wet, merciless suction, crushing him centimeter by centimeter in a rhythmic cadence deeper into absolute darkness. He could barely breathe while he heard the deafening, mighty pounding of Rennick’s heart right next to him. *Thump-thump. Thump-thump.*
With one final, wet slide, Caz slipped through the sphincter and landed with a soft splash inside the stomach.
Caz immediately curled into a ball, shielding his head with his arms and squeezing his eyes shut. He waited for the burning, destructive pain of stomach acid. He waited for his body to dissolve. He beat frantically against the fleshy walls around him, screaming at the top of his lungs.
But the pain never came.
The thick, fleshy stomach walls were wonderfully soft and pulsated sluggishly. The heat in here was intense, boiling hot, but it was a cozy, protective warmth. No burning acid. No dissolution. Just an absolutely safe, warm cocoon.
Suddenly the entire space shuddered as Rennick’s voice filtered through the tissue, dull, all-encompassing, and deep. The giant let out a low, rumbling chuckle.
"Aye, calm yer tiny boots, Caz," the manager’s Scottish brogue boomed through the stomach, while outside, Caz could feel a massive hand settling soothingly over the abdominal wall. "D’ye really think I’m waste'n my best electrician on the acids of Cadal? They can have their bloody report that ye’ve been 'disposed of'. But from this day on, ye belong to me, laddie."
The contrast could not have been greater. A second ago, Caz had been entirely convinced his body was about to dissolve, and now he was hunkered down in a tight but remarkably soft and completely harmless cavern. But as Rennick's words registered, his relief curdled right back into furious disbelief.
"What?!" Caz yelled into the total darkness, his voice muffled by the thick, wet walls. "What bloody nonsense are ye talkin', Rennick?! What d'ye mean, 'belong to me'?!"
Fury flooded his body, burning away the last of his panic. Thoughts of his life on the mainland rushed through his mind. He had a family, damn it! A wife, well, after their last massive row and this shrinking sentence, probably soon to be his ex-wife, and two little lasses he loved more than anything. He was a free man, not a pet for some megalomaniac platform boss!
"Let me out of here this instant, ye fat Scottish bastard!" Caz bellowed, spinning around and kicking with all his might against the yielding, fleshy wall in front of him. "I've got a wife! I've got two daughters waitin' on me! Ye cannae just lock me up in here! Rennick!"
He kicked again, pushing off with his hands and punching the pulsating tissue. But to Rennick on the outside, it felt like nothing more than a faint, ticklish fluttering in his belly. Only a deep, unbothered, and highly amused growl grumbled from the giant's throat.
"Aye, shout all ye want, Caz," the manager’s brogue echoed through the tissue, and Caz felt the giant hand outside apply a steady, reassuring pressure, packing him in snugly. "To yer family and the rest of the world, ye’re officially 'gone'. A tragic disposal accident. Ye’ve nowhere left to go anyway at ten centimeters tall. So save yer breath. Ye’re safe in here, and I’ll see to it ye want for nuthin'. But for now, that loud mouth of yers stays shut."
Caz let out a furious, frustrated hiss. He wanted to keep going, wanted to keep fighting, but the physical exhaustion of the last few minutes ruthlessly claimed its toll. His muscles trembled, and the air in here was so heavy and intensely hot that every breath made him sleepier.
Gritting his teeth and crossing his arms tightly over his chest, he finally let himself drop backward. He sat down right in the middle of the soft, wet stomach folds, pulling his knees up tight against his torso. He was absolutely furious. The situation was an unmitigated disaster, and he refused to accept this forced existence as Rennick’s personal tiny.
And yet… as he sat there, trying to calm his racing pulse, something happened that he couldn't stop. His body began to relax.
The heat that had felt almost suffocating a moment ago now wrapped around his limbs like a ton-heavy, perfectly heated down duvet. There was no freezing draft in here, no metallic rattling of the rig. It was a cocoon of pure, biological comfort. To his own surprise, Caz had to admit that Rennick wasn't being cruel. The stomach wasn't a torture chamber. He really was just keeping him captive, and keeping him warm.
It was utterly surreal.
Caz carefully rested his head back against the pulsating wall of flesh. In the absolute, damp darkness, there was suddenly only one dominant sound. Directly above him, Rennick’s heart beat. *Thump-thump. Thump-thump.* It was so loud, so powerful, that the rhythm vibrated like a heavy bass right through Caz’s own chest. Added to that was the deep, rhythmic rushing of Rennick’s breaths, the steady rise and fall of the world around him, and the occasional, dull gurgle of the stomach.
It was crazy, but Caz caught himself listening to it, utterly fascinated. He had never been this close to another living being's anatomy. It was the most intimate, bizarre, and intense experience of his life.
"Ye'll pay for this, Rennick," Caz muttered weakly into the dark, but his voice had lost its angry bite. His eyelids grew heavy.
Outside at the desk, David Rennick felt the restless squirming inside him finally cease, transitioning into a calm, steady breathing pattern. A satisfied smile crept onto the manager's face. He traced his fingertips once more over the curve of his belly, locked his eyes onto the monitor, and kept typing with renewed energy. He had his little electrician safely stored away, and he wasn't about to give him up anytime soon.
Saw you like to do stories and I wanted to suggest something. Female reader, is tiny, and is like super cold on the rig. She got her work done, it’s late, and is returning to her room. Rennick barely notices her shivering in the cold as she’s going back to her room. Rennick himself was also about to retire for the night. But he does favor this worker in particular unlike the other tinies, who he has eaten in your style with hard vore. She works good, gets things done well given her size, and is one of the few who aren’t actually on his bad side. So he decides to take her with him to keep her warm in his own special way. Once he finds out reader is into this sorta thing, he will be on it. It’s safe vore and possibly a bit of teasing as well. Sorry for the long bit!
The icy North Atlantic wind howled like a hungry predator, lashing mercilessly against the thick steel stilts of the oil rig. It was late, the shift had long since ended, and you dragged yourself utterly exhausted through the station's long, drafty metal corridors. Standing at just 10 centimeters tall, every distance on this gigantic platform felt like an endless march. And the worst part was the cold. Out on the high seas, the frost crept under the skin of the tinies much faster than it did the normal-sized crew. Your hands were numb, your lips trembled, and your legs felt like heavy lead. You longed for nothing more than your bunk, even if the thin blankets there could barely keep out the rig's freezing drafts.
Suddenly, the floor rumbled. Heavy, rhythmic footsteps approached from the darkness of the corridor.
You caught your breath and looked up. Stamping toward you was David Rennick. At 1.75 meters tall, he was an absolute titan to you. He wore his heavy, bright orange coat, his face grim and set in deep lines, the familiar, terrifying sight of the man who was the absolute law on this platform. A familiar spark of fear flared in your chest. Everyone on the drilling rig knew the dark legends surrounding Cadal Oil and the fate of unproductive workers. You knew exactly what had happened to the other "tiny" men and women who had failed: Rennick had emotionlessly swallowed them alive and whole, the final, draconian end to a career.
But you were no failure. You took a deep breath, squared your small shoulders, and walked past him bravely, confidently, with a steady gaze. You wouldn't give him any reason to suspect inefficiency.
Rennick stomped past you, his eyes fixed straight ahead. Truthfully, he was on his way to his own well-deserved night's rest, exhausted from a long day of heavy responsibility. As he passed, you were barely more than a tiny speck on the gray metal floor, and he hardly noticed how violently your small body shivered in the draft. But as he walked past, he paused. He slowly turned around.
This particular worker… she had caught his eye for a while now. In stark contrast to all the other tinies he had ruthlessly "disposed of" on behalf of the corporation, you were different. You worked damn well. You carried out your duties flawlessly despite your miniature size, you never whined, and you were one of the very few on this godforsaken platform who didn't get entirely on his nerves. He respected you in his own rough, harsh way. And seeing you standing there in the freezing hallway, a spontaneous decision formed in his mind. He didn't want to be alone tonight, and he felt like having a bit of fun in his own unique way.
Before you could react, his gigantic hand shot down. Your vision was completely blocked by thick, warm fingers that clamped firmly around your waist, unyielding but careful not to hurt you.
Effortlessly, you were hoisted into the air. Panic flooded your system. As he pressed you roughly against his broad chest and marched with heavy strides toward his private quarters, you began to fight back in his grip. You wrestled against his fingers, kicked your legs into the empty air, and shrieked against the thick skin of his thumb: "Let me go! Sir, please! I haven't done anything wrong! I’ve always worked hard, you know that!"
But Rennick didn't answer. Only a deep, rumbling growl vibrated from his chest. He heard your frantic pleas, but his mind was already on the fun part waiting in his cabin. His strides quickened, driven by a sadistically amused anticipation.
Playing with Fire
He kicked the heavy steel door of his cabin open with his boot, letting it slam shut behind him, instantly locking out the storm of the outside world. The room was pleasantly warm. Rennick went straight to his bunk, letting himself sink onto the mattress with a deep groan, and loosened his grip just a bit.
He lifted you up, right to eye level in front of his massive face. He had taken off his glasses, and his dark eyes scrutinized you with an icy, predatory gleam. You could feel the heavy, warm breath pouring from his nose, brushing against your frozen skin. You were terrified, your heart hammering frantically against your ribs as you stared back at the massive giant.
Then the sadistic ritual began, but this time, it carried a completely different undertone.
Rennick slowly opened his mouth. A yawning, wet abyss opened before you, heavy with the pungent scent of coffee and tobacco. The white rows of teeth gleamed in the dimmed light. Very slowly, he brought you to his lips. He slid you in feet first.
The moment your legs touched the scalding hot, wet surface of his colossal tongue, your stomach knotted. It was a shock of pure heat. But before you could even properly scream, he pulled you back out with his fingers. He held you in front of his face, smirking maliciously as he watched you gasp for air.
"Sir, I beg of you..." you stammered, but he cut you off by turning you around.
This time, he pushed you into his mouth headfirst. Your vision instantly went pitch-black as his hot lips sealed gently around your waist. The heat in here was absolutely suffocating, but in a strange way, incredibly intense. You felt the tip of his massive tongue begin to curiously lick your face, your hair, and your chest, sliding you around his mouth and truly tasting you. All around you, a deep, infinitely satisfied hum boomed from his throat, a vibrating earthquake of delight that traveled through your entire body. After a few agonizing yet intoxicating seconds of uncertainty, he pulled you out again.
You hung panting in his fingers, drenched in his saliva. And in that moment, something strange shifted inside you. The trembling of your body no longer came from the freezing cold of the rig. It was a heated, shaky excitement. The numbness in your limbs was gone, replaced by the cozy, intense warmth of his mouth. You realized that this dangerous game was somehow... fun. It was so beautifully warm. So incredibly safe from the storm outside.
Rennick noticed the shift in your dynamic instantly. A knowing, amused smirk crept onto his lips. To draw you completely out of your shell, he brought you close to his face once more. This time, he didn't open his mouth. Instead, he extended his massive, wet tongue way out and traced a teasing path from your tiny feet all the way up to your head. He completely coated you in his heat, stroking over every single centimeter of your small body.
A soft, involuntary moan escaped your throat as the hot tongue caressed you.
Rennick paused. The deep humming in his chest grew louder, turning into a low chuckle. His eyes fixed on you with a harsh, but now visibly fascinated tenderness. He saw the flush on your cheeks, heard your breath, and realized that you no longer held the panicky, genuine mortal terror of the other victims. You weren't afraid of him anymore. You found this amusing, stimulating, and exciting. You craved this kind of drakonian comfort.
"Aye... who would've thought it?" his deep bass voice rumbled, his thick Scottish brogue dripping with hämisch amusement. "A clever wee worker enjoyin' this. The others shrieked and begged... but ye fancy the manager's methods, do ye?"
The Ultimate Comfort
The moment he discovered the reader was into this game, his entire demeanor changed. The sadistic control freak remained, but the underlying threat gave way to a possessive, rough protective care. If you wanted this kind of warmth, he would make sure to give it to you, in his own unmistakable way.
"Right then, tiny thing. If ye’re so desperate for a warm nook, ye shall have it," he murmured surprisingly gently.
He opened his mouth as wide as he could, tilted his head far back, and placed you without any rush onto his broad tongue. His lips sealed behind you. This time, there was no more back and forth. Total, wet darkness enveloped you like a hot armor plate. You stood knee-deep in saliva while his tongue pressed you one last time, tenderly against his palate, tasting you and savoring your absolute, voluntary submission.
You could feel the mighty muscles in his throat constrict. A brutal, wet swallowing reflex engulfed you.
Gulp.
The walls of his esophagus closed tightly and firmly around your small body. It wasn't a painful pressure, but a perfectly coordinated, pulsating full-body massage, squeezing you downward in a rhythmic, unstoppable cadence into the dark. You could hear the loud, mighty pounding of his heart right next to you. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. A sound of pure, living power.
With one final, wet slide, you slipped through the sphincter and landed with a soft splash inside his stomach.
In here, it was absolutely heavenly. The space was tight, but the thick, fleshy stomach walls were wonderfully soft and pulsated sluggishly around you. The heat was intense, almost numbing, but there was no lethal end waiting for you. The stomach acid was weak, merely protecting you and doing no harm to you or your clothes. It was an absolutely harmless, boiling-hot cocoon. The murderous cold of the oil rig was completely wiped away.
Outside, Rennick exhaled deeply in relief. He stroked his large hand over the cozy, soft belly that you felt from the inside as a pulsating blanket. His voice boomed deep, muffled, and all-encompassing through the tissue to you.
"There now… ye’re safe from the storm down there," he announced harshly, but with an unmistakably satisfied undertone as he huddled beneath the blankets of his bunk. He patted his abdomen gently from the outside, tucking you in comfortably within. "I’ll keep ye grand and warm through the night. But come tomorrow mornin', I expect ye to deliver the best bloody work this platform has ever seen. Do we understand each other?"
You smiled in the absolute darkness, snuggling deep into the warm stomach folds of your gigantic superior, and pressed your hands gratefully against the pulsating wall. "Yes, Sir," you called out softly, knowing full well that he could feel the muffled echo vibrating deep inside his belly.
If you’re willing, may I see more of your oc just annoying Rennick? Story or art idc I need something ahhhhhh!
:3 ❤️✨❤️✨❤️✨
David Rennick stared grimly at the glowing monitors on his desk. The late shift had ended an hour ago, but the paperwork on an oil rig never slept. Reports on fuel consumption, maintenance logs for the drill heads, and endless safety statistics were piled high in front of him. His glasses sat a bit crooked on his nose, his brow was furrowed in deep lines, and his massive hand tapped a frustrated, rapid rhythm against the heavy solid wood. Every time he exhaled, it sounded like an overheated boiler venting steam.
Outside, the North Atlantic raged; inside, Rennick’s patience was doing the same.
And then, there was Fin.
Fin, his partner—a Borrower measuring just ten centimeters tall—had made it his absolute mission in life to systematically sabotage David’s grumpy evening work ethic.
It started with a faint, rhythmic sound right next to David’s coffee cup. Rennick ignored it. He was the feared master of this platform. He made entire crews stand at attention. He wasn’t about to let himself be distracted by a tiny, barefoot man in sweatpants.
Tap. Tap. Rustle.
Rennick balled his free hand into a fist, his eyes glued to the screen. "Fin," his deep bass voice rumbled, sounding even darker through his heavy Scottish accent. "I’ve told ye, laddie, I need these reports finished by midnight. Go on to yer bed or find a wee book to read."
A soft, utterly innocent giggle was the only response.
Fin had no intention of doing so. He enjoyed dismantling the unapproachable facade of the "Dictator" brick by brick far too much. With quick, silent steps, the little Borrower darted across the wood, heading straight for the manager's massive hand resting on the desk. Rennick’s palm lay flat, his fingers slightly splayed. To Fin, it was the perfect climbing wall.
Without a shred of fear, Fin grabbed David’s massive thumb and swung himself upward. Rennick’s skin tightened slightly as he felt the familiar, tiny weight, but he didn't budge. He stubbornly kept typing on the keyboard with his other hand.
"David~" Fin called out in a deliberately drawn-out, sweet voice as he lay flat on his stomach right on the giant's knuckles, kicking his legs up in the air and resting his chin in his small hands. "You’re boring. The storm outside is way more exciting than your statistics."
"The statistics keep us from bloody sinkin', ye cheeky wee terror," David grumbled. He shifted the hand Fin was lying on, lifting it up a bit on purpose to throw the little guy off balance.
When David realized his hand movements weren't doing the trick, he tried a stern look. He turned his head, pushed his glasses up with his index finger, and fixed Fin with the exact icy, authoritative glare that made seasoned drilling specialists tremble during the day.
Fin merely blinked. Then, he cheekily stuck his tongue out at David.
A deep, incredulous huff escaped the manager’s broad chest. "D’ye think this is a game, ye wee pest?" David whispered, his voice vibrating so intensely that Fin could feel the rumble travel straight through the desk. "If I were a normal boss, ye’d have been tossed down the waste chute long ago."
"But you’re not my boss, you’re my giant, cuddly boyfriend," Fin countered smartly, climbing up David’s arm and resourcefully planting himself right on his shoulder. "And my big boyfriend hasn't given me any attention in two hours."
David closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. He loved this little guy, he knew that, and their intimacy was his only anchor in this harsh world. But damn it, Fin knew exactly which buttons to push.
"Fin, I’m warnin' ye," David murmured, a very faint, sadistically amused smile tracing the corners of his lips. "If ye dinnae get off my shoulder this instant, I’m changin' the rules. I haven't had a proper snack today, remember?"
That was Fin’s cue. He knew David would never hurt him—but he also knew David was an absolute control freak who loved to playfully demonstrate his dominance, especially when stressed. And honestly? Fin was counting on it tonight. A little teasing, a little fear-play, followed by the ultimate, hot comfort.
Fin pretended to be startled. He took a few steps back on David’s shoulder, clutching his collar, and looked up at the massive face with theatrically widened eyes. "Oh no… the big, bad manager wouldn't actually eat his best Borrower, would he? What would the union say about that?"
David let out a short, rumbling laugh. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. The reports would have to wait.
"The union can kiss my arse, laddie," David growled softly.
With a speed you wouldn't expect from the heavy 62-year-old, his hand shot upward. Before Fin could even blink, David’s massive, warm fingers closed around his entire body. The grip was firm, unyielding, pinning Fin’s arms tightly against his sides, but as always, David took meticulous care not to use too much force.
Effortlessly, he lifted Fin off his shoulder and held him right up to his eyes.
Despite his helpless position, Fin grinned from ear to ear. "Catching me doesn't count, David!"
"I catch whoever I want on my platform," David grunted. He leaned back in his leather armchair, visibly enjoying the feeling of having absolute control back. He brought Fin slowly closer to his face until the little guy could feel the giant’s warm, coffee-scented breath.
With his free hand, David slowly took off his glasses and set them on the desk. Without the lenses, his dark eyes looked even more captivating, even more dominant. He slowly opened his mouth, just wide enough to reveal the pristine, white rows of teeth and the damp, heavy darkness behind them.
"Ye’ve been pesterin' me all evening, Fin," David whispered deeply, moving Fin centimeter by centimeter closer to the open cavern. "I think it’s time for a wee time-out. As a punishment. What d’ye say to that?"
Fin felt his heart beat faster with an exciting thrill. He peered into the vast abyss before him. "I say… it’s much warmer inside there than out here on the desk."
David chuckled amusedly, his deep bass vibrating directly against Fin’s tiny chest. "Aye, that it is. And a damn sight quieter, too. At least down there ye cannae interrupt my work."
Without further hesitation, David pushed his hand forward. He tilted his head back slightly and let Fin slide very slowly, feet first, over his bottom lip.
The moment Fin’s feet touched the scalding hot, wet surface of David’s massive tongue, a blissful sigh escaped the Borrower. The heat was instantly overwhelming. David gently nudged him all the way in with his fingers until Fin’s head was the last thing to disappear behind the large teeth. Then, the manager’s lips sealed shut with a wet sound.
Total, safe darkness.
Fin stood knee-deep in his partner’s warm saliva. He immediately felt the colossal tongue move beneath him. David began to play with him gently, sliding him back and forth in his mouth and pressing him tenderly but firmly against his smooth palate. Fin laughed, holding onto one of the giant molars while the dull, deep hum of David’s voice boomed around him like an earthquake. David thoroughly enjoyed keeping the little troublemaker in his mouth for a bit first, truly savoring him.
After a minute of delightful teasing, the floor beneath Fin tilted. David constricted the muscles at the back of his throat. An unstoppable, wet swallowing reflex engulfed the small Borrower.
Gulp.
The walls of David’s esophagus closed tightly around Fin’s small body. It was a perfectly coordinated, pulsating massage, squeezing Fin deeper in a rhythmic cadence. Fin loved the intense pressure from all sides while he could hear the loud, familiar pounding of David’s heart right next to him. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
With one final, wet slide, Fin slipped through the sphincter and landed with a soft splash inside David’s stomach.
In here, it was absolutely heavenly. The thick, fleshy stomach walls were soft and pulsated sluggishly, enveloping Fin like a living, boiling-hot sleeping bag. No stomach acid, no danger—just pure, numbing warmth.
Outside, David exhaled deeply in relief. He stroked his large hand over the cozy, soft belly that Fin loved so much, feeling the satisfied, muffled thrashing of the little guy inside.
"There now… peace and quiet at last," David muttered with a broad, exhausted smile, his voice echoing deep and muffled through the tissue to Fin. He sat back up straight and turned back to his paperwork. "Ye’ll be stayin' right in there until mornin', ye wee ghost. At least now ye cannae bother me while I’m workin'."
Fin curled up deep into the warm stomach folds, pressed his hands gratefully against the pulsating wall, and called out muffledly, "Good night, David!"
Hello cunts and cunties (haven't heard that nickname in a while, have ya?), I'll make this short and sweet. I was gonna do some art for pride month but my brain decided to NOT do the one thing I wanted to, so I'll just write my headcanons below and add some memes that are tied to the canon for my AU. You get gays, memes AND lore, fun. Anyway, I don't have a lot but please enjoy anyway. ^^
Rennick: Trans, pansexual and on the ace spectrum, closer to demi.
Caz: Bisexual.
Finlay: Demiromantic and demisexual, still questioning if she might be attracted to women.
Muir: Bisexual, intersex.
O'Connor: Bisexual and very horny for Gibbo for some reason.
Trots: Gay and asexual.
Gibbo: Trans and bisexual.
Addair: He will die if he starts thinking about this, which is probably a good thing but I still need to keep him around so let's leave him for now.
Roper: Unsure, he doesn't think about it much, just goes with what feels right to him.
Scooby: Still figuring it out.
Raffs: Gay for Gregor. They're both water boys but only one of them is squirting (I'm so sorry that was a terrible pun I'll go end it all).
Rig polyamory is canon, and there is actual fucking lore behind it. I feel like I've gone insane every time I think about the shit I pull with this AU. Also Gregor and Raffs totally bang, surely I can't be the only one to see the potencial right??? They were totally in each other's bodies (the shape tied them together).
Also Brodie not liking Gregor and being overly protective over him is my headcanon and you shall adapt it too *beams you*
