#and then kept saying they didn’t have any money to feed anyone….

[koishikomeijiofficial]

idk who needs to hear this but stop adopting animals if u can’t afford to feed urself

[war-of-the-skies]

“Two weeks.” The hero said as the restaurant bustled around them. The hero waited for a reply but got ignored instead. “Two. weeks.” The villain nodded, not looking up from the menu. “Do you even hear me?”

“Oh, I hear you just fine. And I’m starting to wish I couldn’t.” They put the menu down in front of them, giving the hero a glare.

“I don’t. Understand.” The hero says sternly, leaning forward across the table.

“What is it that you don’t understand?” The villian doesn’t break eye contact. And if looks could kill…

“You’ve kept me hostage for two weeks. And you haven’t done anything to me except take me out to a restaurant. What do you want with me?”

The truth was that the villain was payed a lot of money for this. To keep the hero inactive while a group of low level criminals can run round without anyone to stop them. And they have their ways of avoiding the police. “If torture is what you want, then that can be arranged.” The villain doesn’t have to say anymore than that for the hero to sit back down politely.

The hero knew well enough, themselves, that the villains threats weren’t empty. And the only thing stopping the hero from screaming for help is their stubborn mind telling them that they don’t need any, and that they can handle themselves on their own. That, and the fact that the hero would feel like a burden.

After the hero had gone quiet, the villain looked down at the hero’s food. Unsurprisingly, they hadn’t touched it. “I bought that. You’re going to eat it.”

The hero looked up to the villain, locking eyes with them, and then back down at the food, before picking up their fork and scraping a few peas into their mouth. The hero tried to hide how hungry they were. They didn’t want to owe anything to the villain, so they will not satisfy them by seeing them like this. They put down the fork, and sit up straight. “There.”

“You and I both know how hungry you are. You’ve refused to eat for days.”

“Maybe, if you let me go, I could feed myself.” The hero replies, optimistically, only for the villain to look back down at the hero’s plate, before something else catches their attention. The hero’s water. It looked weird in a way. Cloudy.

“Eat more.” The villain mumbles, only for the hero to cross their arms across their chest. “So you’re going to just starve yourself? That’s a bit stupid.”

“Fine.” The hero picks up the glass of water, trying to make a point. The hero tips it up.

“Don’t drink that.” The villain snaps.

“Shut up.” The hero’s voice echoes in the glass.

“I said, don’t.” The villian snatches it from them, aggressively. But the hero tries to snatch it back.

“So you’ll let me eat but won’t let me drink?” The hero goes to grab it again but the villain pulls it away. “Do you think this is funny or something?” They stand up, and walk round the table but the villain downs the drink before the hero can grab it. “Ughhhhhh. You’re a pain in the ass, do you know that?”

“We should go.” The villain grabs their jacket and throws it over their shoulders. “It’s getting late.”

“Why, so you can trap me in my room again? It’s not even late.”

But the villain can’t hear them. The world instantly starts spinning around them and their vision blurs, their ears are blocked by a head splitting ringing. They try to focus on one spot on the table while the hero continues to haul rude insults at them. The villain tries to get up to go to the bathroom but the hero stops and turns to them.

“And where do you think you’re going?” The hero accuses them, one hand on their hip. The villain raises a hand at them.

“bathroom.” The villain slurs before collapsing to their knees. Someone had put something in that drink and it was meant for the hero. Someone was after them. But who?

[imrllytootiredforthis]

A crazy, blood-lust driven creature

Pairing: Yeonjun x reader

Summary: Yeonjun gets a new roommate...

Warnings: dom reader, sub yeonjun, vampire reader, human yeonjun, blood play/kink, slight fear play (?), implied manhandling kink, dumification, prolly more I forgot

Word count: 4.6k

A/N: For the lovely anon here, happy late birthday and sorry this took a bit longer than anticipated, but I hope you enjoy!

How does one get a crazy, blood-lust driven creature to not attack them?

Of course there’s many ways discovered by humans throughout the years, such as dousing them in holy water. Sending a stake through their heart, repulsing them with garlic but really, that one’s a bit more of a myth.

That was the question that Yeonjun was focused on before. How to not get hurt, how to not get killed. In fact, that was what he’d been preparing for, for most of his life.

How to keep the vampires away. How to stay safe from them. Because they were mindless, scary, blood-sucking creatures. 

But that was before.

Before his landlord increased the price on his place and Yeonjun needed something to help with the pay he knew he couldn’t cover alone. Before he decided he needed a roommate to cover those extra expenses. Before he posted something online, asking if anyone wanted to move in with him; to help pay with the rent.

He got a total of one offer.

You.

A vampire.

A crazy, blood-lust driven creature that he’d been preparing to fight off for most of his life.

But he needed money. Needed to keep a roof over his head. Needed to still be able to pay for food.

So he agreed and a few short days later, after settling agreements and setting ‘ground rules’ as he called them, you moved in.

You weren’t allowed to feed in or anywhere near the house. You weren’t allowed to bring home any other of your ‘blood-sucking friends’ as he called it. And obviously, ever feeding off of him was off limits entirely. 

Overall though, you were a great roommate. 

You paid your portion of the rent on time, you weren’t loud or messy, you didn’t bother him-in fact-he didn’t see very much of you at all because of the time differences and such, with you sleeping or maybe out during the day, he didn’t know for sure and him asleep at night when he assumed you were awake.

And when you did see each other, you mostly kept to yourself and he was okay with that-happy-with it even. You kept your space and he kept his. He had no interest and you had no interest in him.

At least, that’s how he thought it would be.

Until one morning he’d gotten up extra early for work-having woken up and not able to fall asleep-but that wasn’t the point.

The point was that after awhile of laying in bed, tossing and turning and finally deciding he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep and so there was really no point in trying, he got up to make some coffee.

Yawned as he began to prepare for a normally extra long and extra tiring day. But now an extra, extra long and extra, extra tiring day considering he didn’t get the usual amount of sleep he normally did.

Yeonjun was so deprived of his sleep that he didn’t realize that you were sitting at the bar, scrolling mindlessly on your phone-right across from him-until you were saying good morning and wondering why he was up so early, pointing at the clock and reminding him of the time it was.

He had frozen in shock, body clenching in fear as your easygoing laugh filled the room, asking him if he was okay.

That was the first time he had an actual conversation with you, other than setting rules and showing you around the place.

And he’d be surprised to say it was...nice. You-you were nice, friendly even, like a normal person. Definitely not creepy or scary like he imagined you to be.

So he talked to you for a bit, ended up losing track of time and being a little bit late to work but he was surprised to find that he wasn’t as angry as he though he’d be.

After that the two of you fell sort of into a schedule. 

You, being up early in the morning all the time, prepared his coffee for him and when he heard the little beeping of it being finished, he’d wake up and get out of bed to get ready.

That would leave a bit more time in his morning between finishing getting ready and leaving, so he’d talk to you.

In the beginning of course it was kind of tense. Yeonjun didn’t really know what to talk to vampires about but you quickly filled in the gaps, telling him about your other vampire friends and weirdly enough, he found that you had some human friends as well. 

You told him all about the people who were in your life and about your life in general, the one you lived around the time where he was asleep. 

Apparently you worked as a bartender at a night club, a very interesting night club at that. One where both humans and vampires would visit. Vampires for blood and humans that were willing to be drunk from. 

You assured him it was nothing harmful to either of the parties and 100% consensual. In fact, you explained, humans apparently got an almost high-inducing overwhelming feeling from being fed from. Of course, you’d never felt it but you said the people that you’d fed from had explained it as almost pleasurable in a way.

And Yeonjun guessed it made sense if he was thinking about the tactical way of the vampire as a predatory species. Being able to induce this feeling over prey would ensure that they wouldn’t get away-that they wouldn’t want to get away.

Eventually he came to tell you about himself as well. His friends and job-his hobbies-and his nearly obsessive fear of your kind and how it came to be.

He wasn’t sure you’d understand at first. He’d thought you’d be defensive over your kind and yourself. That you would argue with him and get upset.

But you didn’t.

You heard him out and listened. You empathized to his feelings and made him feel...sane for once.

He enjoyed speaking to you and soon Yeonjun realized that you knew more about him than his friends and family-even. Eventually you knew so much about him and he knew so much about you that it could only be described as a friendship.

And so your relationship continued like that. Brief but deep. Willing to open up but not willing to discuss the prospect of it being anything more.

Yeonjun liked it. Liked the way he could tell you so many things without having to worry about it being anything more. He loved the way that you were openminded, aware of yourself and of him, and willing to listen.

Openminded until one night.

Late at night or really early in the morning-it could be described as either, when he had gone to the bathroom or maybe get a drink of water, he couldn’t quite remember but that wasn’t really the point.

The point was that he’d gotten up late at night and you were there.

Dark and quiet, he tried to keep it that way. Tried to not make a noise and not turn on the lights, he knew you’d be awake but he didn’t want to disturb you more than that.

Obviously, he knew he could talk to you outside your morning conversations but that had never happened before.

He’d been attempting to stay silent, creeping through his own apartment like some kind of stranger.

“Hello Yeonjun, what are you doing up this late? You have work in the morning, do you not?”

He had jumped at the sound of your voice, frantically searching for the source of it until a lamp turned on and the room swelled with light. Your eyes stared him down, a bloody red to match your diet, staring him down with a deranged yet somewhat inviting smile on your face.

He knew what this was, experienced it many times but it didn’t make him any more used to it. The natural beauty all vampires had, like a siren to lure in their prey. He knew, yet it didn’t make it any less effective, the aura that you gave off, calling him in like a ship to a lighthouse.

“U-um, I...”

Scarlet eyes traced his face in search of an answer, nodding along in perhaps a prompt for him to continue.

“W-water?”

He cursed himself internally as your lips twitched in a restrained smile, amusement filling your unnatural eyes. “What about water?” He had talked to you a handful of times already and he’d never acted like this before.

Call him sleep deprived, or maybe even nervous about talking to you but he’d never admit the real reason he was stuttering over his words like a schoolboy with a crush was because this was the beginning of exactly that.

“I...”

Finally a wide toothy grin broke across your face, and even though he hadn’t meant to, Yeonjun gasped-loudly.

Your fangs. 

Perfectly white and sharp, almost glistening in the light.

Horror and fear and something that pulsed deep inside him that wasn’t quite decipherable shocked him in place. Heat filled his body and an uncontrollable shiver tore through his body as his eyes went wide, tensed in wait.

He knew you had fangs. He knew, all vampires did so why shouldn’t you? But he’d never seen your’s before. Maybe the opportunity hadn’t arisen or maybe...whatever. His mind was a jumbled mess, a whirlpool of scattered thoughts as he fought to keep the urge to bite his lip at bay.

“I-i need water!” He cringed at the crack in his voice, wincing at the silence that followed. “...I-I’m thirsty...?”

You clearly noticed the shift and your smile fell, replaced with a neutral expression. For some reason it made something in Yeonjun’s chest fall. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to make things weird or anything...I’m just not used to...your fangs y’know? Kind of freaked me out-considering your k-kind.”

Fuck, was he dumb or something? Had his lack of sleep finally caught up to him? Why was he spewing out bullshit like some kind of moron.

And then your expression dropped to a frown, eyebrows furrowing. “My kind? What do you mean by that?”

He scratched the back of his neck, “Like vampires...y’know? Y-your fangs just kinda freaked me out, b-because you drink blood and all?”

Your mouth clamped shut and those unnatural eyes shifted, looking opposite to him. “Well I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” You took a deep breath. “I’d never drink from you, you know that right? I thought you knew that.” 

He opened his mouth to reply but you continued, hands gesturing wildly, looking back and pinning him with your gaze. “And you know that when I do drink I rarely ever actually...permanently harm them.”

He knew the way you substituted ‘permanently harm’ for kill was for his benefit as he replied. “I know, I know but you can never be too careful...Your kind have never been particularly trustworthy.”

He knew the mistake as soon as the word left his lips and clearly so did you, nostrils flaring, lip curled up, holding back a hiss but leaving your fangs on display.

“You go get your water. I’m gonna go out for a bit. Meet up with some friends, maybe get something to eat.” You replied, standing up with an attempted smile, an angry edge set cold in your tone. “Have a good night.”

You were out of the room before his brain finally started to work again and a very delayed, “Good night.” Echoed softly from his lips.

--

After that he barely saw you. Sometimes in the early morning when he got up for breakfast but most of the time you were out of the house doing who knows what by then.

And he was very reluctant to say that he maybe wanted to see you again? 

It was almost three weeks after your little ‘fight’, if you could even call it that?

Almost three weeks of him barely seeing you.

Almost three weeks of you...avoiding him?

Well, Yeonjun didn’t know if you were avoiding him per se. He hoped you weren’t. But whereas before when you’d say hi every now and then, ask him how his day was or whatnot, now he barely even saw you much less hear your voice.

Whenever he tried to approach you if he did see you, you would quickly blurt out that you needed to eat and quickly leave the room.

Yeah, on second thought, you were probably avoiding him. And he probably deserved it.

God! He wanted to bang his head against the wall, how could he be so stupid? ‘Your kind have never been particularly trustworthy’? What was wrong with him?

And now you were angry.

And now he was missing you.

Your weird red eyes. Your disturbing, oddly alluring smile. Your small questions and easygoing conversations. 

But how could he even be missing you? He certainly didn’t like you. You were a vampire. A crazy, blood-lust driven creature. 

He hated you.

At least he was supposed to hate you...

But now it was three weeks later and he hated to say it but he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Fuck, was he going to have to apologize?

--

Yeonjun felt warm. 

Hot. 

W-why was it so hot?

Blinking slowly, his eyes opened and red one’s greeted him, nearly glowing in the dark. 

“Yeonjun.” He could nearly shiver at the minty breath fanning across his face, your voice a purr.

“W-what’re you doing?”

He felt the grip you had on his waist, pulling him closer to you. So close he could no longer tell what was you and what was him anymore. 

“Shh, pet, be quiet and just lay back for me.”

He found himself listening without thinking. “W-what’re you d-” The words cut off into a gasp, slowly shifting into a broken moan as your teeth sunk into his neck.

Something coursed through his veins. Hungry and hot. Fear? Confusion? Anger? Lust? All of them?

But clearly his reaction wasn’t important to you, taking his hair and knotting your hand roughly into the roots, pulling his head back for more access.

Your teeth sunk into his skin, like the prick of a needle, slow and excruciating for only a moment before...it turned into something else.

You paid him no mind nonetheless, drinking like you had been starved for weeks and for some reason-for some reason he could only keen. 

And finally-finally he could understand what you meant before when you’d said that humans would willingly choose to be drunk from.

‘Pleasurable in a way’, you’d described it. There was nothing ‘in a way’ about this. This was a pure aphrodisiac that you’d let loose into his bloodstream. 

Euphoria and bliss scalding hot, burning a trail of ecstasy through his body. 

You stopped for a bit to let him rest, kissing the are you had just bit and licking away any of the excess blood that was dripping from the bite marks. Smirking but mostly ignoring the way his arms uselessly tried to cling to your shoulders, pawing and begging for you to do it again.

Quietly, you leaned down to his ear, whispering as you asked if he was okay, tracing your fingers over the wound gently while focusing your eyes on him.

Was he okay?

Was he okay?

He was drunk-practically high off a single bite, begging for more, clawing at your skin and wrapping his legs around your hips.

Was he fucking okay?

He whined and scratched and finally found leverage behind your head and before you could even breath he was pushing you back towards his neck. 

Instead of getting what he so desperately needed, you pulled away entirely.

“Shh, calm down pet. You need to just wake up!”

What?

“-Yeonjun wake the fuck up you’re scaring me!”

His heart almost blew out of his chest as he tried to regain his senses, eyes opening up to see the world in white. “Fucking hell! Are you okay?”

Yeonjun blinked, trying to bring the world into focus and once he finally caught on to his surroundings, he wished he could find a rock to hide under for the rest of his very short-compared to your’s-life. 

Because there you were.

Sitting over him, face full of concern and worry. Shaking his shoulders and brushing your hand over his forehead as if checking for a fever.

“Are you okay? You were making weird noises! A-and thrashing around-were you having a nightmare-you’re really warm, your cheeks are really red too-are you sick-what can I do?”

His mouth opened but no words could possibly come out. Horror crossed his face but for none of the reasons you expected as you gasped and flitted out of the room. “You know what? I’m gonna go get you some advil. Some soup maybe! I don’t know, I’ll google what to get on the way there!”

And before he could even yell back and stop you from leaving, the door was slamming shut and you were gone and he was still sitting there as red as a fire hydrant.

...He just had a wet dream about you drinking his blood.

...and you thought that it was a nightmare because he was sick.

...and now you were gone to the store to get him things to make him feel better...

He groaned, face falling into his hands as the full weight of the mortification hit. He just had a wet dream about you drinking his blood.

What was wrong with him? Why would he ever dream about something like that? Why did he like it?

Yeonjun smothered a pillow over his head with a groan, god he should just put himself out of his misery. 

How could he ever face you again? How was he gonna act normal around you again?

He didn’t know, all he knew was something deep inside him. Somewhere shameful and embarrassing, all he could think about was-all he could wonder was How do you get a crazy, blood-lust driven creature to attack you?

--

Ever since you’d gotten back the human had been acting shifty.

It was weird.

You’d come back from the store, medicine and soup and whatever else the first website that popped up when you searched ‘home remedies for a cold’ listed on it.

But it was odd. When you got to his room he wasn’t there. And when you found him he was in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables a bit too carelessly for your opinion.

“Yeonjun, are you okay? I thought you were sick.”

He waved it off, muttering something or another about how he was fine and you were just overreacting. You weren’t too sure you believed him but didn’t argue with it.

You placed the things down on the counter, sitting on the barstool and watching him cut up some carrots roughly, somewhat distractedly as he glanced up at you every few seconds.

He liked that you cared. Liked that you were worrying over him and as much as it was tiring it filled his chest with a sort of warmth.

“Careful!” The silence was broken by your voice, his wrist gripped by yours only inches above his fingers. 

He blinked once. Twice. Avoiding your gaze as he set the knife on the cutting board and sighed.

Your gaze was heavy on him, confused and worried burning a hole into the side of his face but he tried his very best to ignore it. “Are you sure you’re not sick, Yeonjun?”

Exasperated, he finally turned to you, meeting your stare head on. “I’m fucking fine! If I say I’m fine-I’m fine! I-i just-”

Each of your hands wrapped around his wrists and suddenly he was shoved up against the counter, trapped between your body and the cool marble of it. “Just what?” You hissed darkly, digging your nails into his skin, gripping him so hard he was almost positive it would leave marks. 

Yeonjun tried to look away, tried to tear his gaze from your’s and break whatever weird trance you had over him but he couldn’t. Couldn’t pull away from the depths of your eyes, sharp and demanding.

“I-i just,” He took a deep breath in, and blurted it out. “I can’t stop thinking about you! I miss you and it’s fucking weird!” 

He ripped his body away from yours, shoving you away as he ran a hand through his hair. “And I want to apologize for calling you untrustworthy but I don’t know if I can yet but I can’t stop thinking about you and our stupid conversations and your scary as fuck eyes and your fucking fangs that I quite literally had a wet dream about!” As the words flowed out, the more and more agitated he became. Voice growing frantic and fast. 

“Because god, even though I’m completely fucking terrified of you I can’t stop thinking about them sinking into my fucking skin-”

Before he could even blink, before a single thought came to mind, he was backed against the wall. Your body like steel pushing him and your teeth were sinking into his neck and he body was set ablaze.

He could feel it. Feel the suction of the long gulps you took, the pinprick of pain just below his ear that was maddening and horrible and wonderful.

Yeonjun couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the way his hips began to grind down against your thigh as you brought it up between his legs.

“Sh-shit!” He gasped, and that seemed to break you out of your trance, pulling away from his neck, scanning over his fucked-out face with a concerned yet definitely aroused expression, satisfied at just how much of a mess you could make him with a single bite.

So instead you claimed his lips. He could taste his own blood on your tongue, metallic and sharp but he moaned at it nonetheless, crying out when you pulled away, watching as he stuck out his tongue to try and chase you back into the kiss. 

His eyes were glazed over-half lidded, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he panted. He pleaded for you to kiss him again. For you to touch him. For you to bite him and ruin him and mark him as yours.

How could anyone turn down such a sinful plea?

You kissed him again, hungrier, rougher this time. With such force that your teeth clicked together. You winced but he didn’t seem to notice, intertwining your tongues together. Kissing you desperately and needily.

That kiss was followed by another kiss and then another. 

You laughed lightly as your teeth grazed over his tongue, cutting it slightly. You could taste the blood and he could as well. Feel it fresh as it ran freely straight into your mouth. 

Yeonjun whimpered at the slight pain. Shut up into a high-pitched mewl as you dragged your own tongue over the wound, savouring the taste of his blood and saliva intertwining into one.

He gasped as his legs were thrown around yours, carried across the room and dropped onto the couch, easily as if he weighed nothing. As if he were a feather in your arms. 

“Yeonjun~”

Thrown onto the couch with a low ‘umph’ you gazed upon him.

A mess. A gorgeous, beautiful mess. 

Bloody marks decorating the soft skin of his neck, hair disheveled, drool cascaded down his lips. Pretty, pretty eyes unfocused and wide, looking up glazed over with what you assumed to be lust. 

His arms reached out, hands grasping lightly for your shirt, for your hands, for anything that could bring him closer to you. 

You’d probably drunk too much. If his current state; the swaying of his body and the shiver of his limbs were any indication. He was high off of the sensations and clearly wasn’t thinking straight.

He kept blubbering nonsense. How he was sorry, how he wanted you-needed you, how he finally got you to drink his blood, moaned pleads and promises in a jumbled incoherent mess.

You pet back his sweaty hair, trying to ignore the way his hips bucked up into the air, whimpering in frustration at the inevitable dissatisfaction of the motion. 

“Calm down. Shh, you need to calm down.”

But he didn’t, if anything the hand resting on his forehead only made him want you more, body weak yet still writhing in place, trying to reach you. 

“Bite me, bite me again. Bite my thighs! Please, bite my thighs!”

“Are you sure you want this? Are you sure you want me to bite you baby?”

His face flushed and a wanton cry fell from his lips as he squirmed beneath you, nodding and letting his head fall back. 

“Words.” You travelled slowly down the expanse of his body, mouth nearly watering in anticipation.

His desperate nods as much as they were so adorable, so enticing, weren’t enough for you. But he needed to be quick with his answer; you were getting hungry and his blatant signs of submission weren’t making holding back any easier. 

The look in your eyes was more predatory than ever, and it made his blood boil inside him. “D-do it, do it please do it!”

And you could lie and say it was for his sake the speed of which you moved in as soon as the very first syllable broke from his mouth but, that was a lie. And you weren’t very keen on lying. Your desperation in which clearly betraying those thoughts as your nails dug into his thighs, grip hard enough to leave marks as you spread them apart. 

Yeonjun was so incredibly embarrassed; so incredibly flustered, hiding his face in his hands as he processed the situation. As he could barely process the feeling of you sliding his shorts down his legs, of his body unconsciously shimmying to make the job easier. 

Your fangs grazed his inner thigh as you began kissing around the area, dangerously close to his crotch, moaning as the intoxicating smell of Yeonjun’s blood hit your senses. 

“So good for me pet, so good~”

Your fingers blushed along his navel, distracting and overwhelming, making him shiver violently in place. And finally-finally you had found the right spot. He moaned delectably as you began mouthing at it and leaving open mouth kisses over the spot, your mouth warm and wet. 

His thighs trembled on either side of your head as you licked a long stripe over the place and kissed it-almost tenderly one more time. 

“Just stay still for me, okay baby?”

He nodded frantically, hands flying to your hair, head up and eyes watching in lustful anticipation as you opened your mouth, fangs-that he’d gotten in fucking fight with you about earlier-shimmering in the low light, decorated prettily by your saliva. 

And slowly, ever so slowly, you began to lower them into Yeonjun’s thigh, fangs easily sliding in through his skin.

And this-this was a million times better than his dream-a billion. This was scalding and dizzying, his mind melting into a jumbled mess, not a single thought able to form. Not a single word than pleas and begs for more and more and more.

It was too much, barely enough, just right. Just enough to push him right to the edge as he squirmed and moaned under your mouth.

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna...” 

He gasped out and god was it embarrassing as he came. You hadn’t even touched him. You hadn’t done anything except for bite him!

He could barely even focus on those thoughts as his body tensed and his eyes rolled into the back of his head, stars swimming in his vision.

So overwhelmed and so far gone that he didn’t realize you’d eased out of him until you were cradling his head in your arms and softly whispering words he couldn’t quite make out into his ear.

Soft words and sweet nothings, covered in bites and bruises, your body solidly wrapped around his, he fell asleep.

The last thing before the darkness overtook him was looking up to see a tender smile, a gentle forehead kiss and a brush of a hand down his thighs.

[tomkaulitzssgirl]

You are safe with me | Bill Kaulitz x Male Reader

requested by: @billsjum6ie

(bill in the story is in his 2008 era)

warnings: bullying, su!cide incitement

14 september. a date that you wished never came. school had started again and for you it was tragic.

you didn’t really like anyone there, not even your teachers. everyone was fake, talked behind each others backs and the teachers couldn’t even do their job right.

it was pointless for you. it was a waste of time and energy. you always thought that what didn’t feed your mind was pointless and everything in this school was.

you sighed as you continued to dress infront of the mirror, putting on a grey hoodie and black baggy jeans. you paired it with black converse and a grey beanie, even if it was still september it was already cold outside.

your backpack was already done, so you put it on your shoulder and after saying bye to your mom, you left. the bus arrived on point as usual and took you to your worst nightmare.

as you stood infront of the building, you kept analysing the crowd of students, some older, some younger. many were in groups, just talking, others were smoking, no one really seemed to see you.

you were kind of a loner, your only friend went to another school so you were all by yourself.

the day was also about to start with the subject you hated the most: math.

when the bell rang, everyone ran inside, besides you, you took your own sweet time to walk into that hell hole.

you were the last one of the students to walk into it, the teacher had to come. you sat down quietly at the end of the class, taking out a piece of paper and a pen starting to draw.

soon the lesson began and no one was really paying attention. you thought your teacher was crazy to make you study on the first day of school.

getting bored, you huffed, raising your hand.

“yes?” the teachers acknowledge you, placing her hand on her hips.

“could i go to the bathroom, please?” you asked putting on your sweetest face. she sighed and nodded, “be quick!”

you got up, rolling your eyes without the woman seeing you, before walking out of the classroom.

you looked at the floor, your hands in your pockets and your head in your thoughts, that soon were interrupted by someone screaming.

“give us your fucking money!” a guy with a booming voice yelled, before you heard something hit a locker.

“i don’t have any!” another voice yelled, you could tell they were crying by the way it sounded and trembled.

“you don’t have any? you’re fucking rich!” this time it wasn’t the first voice talking, but another one.

you walked some more and hid behind a wall, only your head showing a bit, so you could see what was going on.

“leave me the fuck alone!” a thin, tall guy yelled. his hair was black and long to his shoulders. he was trying hard to push the other guys away but to not use since they were stronger than him.

when you focused your eyes on him, you realised it was your crush. bill. bill kaulitz.

you guys went out a couple of times but never decided what you were.

gaining some courage, you stepped out of your hiding place, ready to protect him. “hey! get away from him! i’ll call the principal!”

they acted like they didn’t hear you, so you stepped closer to them.

“you’re such a girl! you even wear make up! what man does that?” they laughed at him, taking his sunglasses off his face, revealing a dark make up.

“i’m talking to you! go away!” you tried to take the sunglasses out of their hands but they pushed you on the ground.

at the sight of you falling down they laughed even more before throwing the sunglasses on the ground and stepping on them.

“why don’t you kill yourself? no one likes you anyway. your parents divorced cause they couldn’t stand your weird ass.”

at this point you couldn’t handle the sight anymore. the guy slowly broke down on the floor.

“hey! i said leave him alone!” you yelled louder, pushing the one who said those horrible things against the wall. you were certainly scared but also fed up with their bullshit.

“who are you? his little boyfriend?” he finally acknowledged you, pushing you back.

you did the same thing again, before punching him in his dirty, ugly face. his little friend didn’t do anything, he just stood there watching.

bill took this chance to run away to the bathroom and before they could’ve done something to you, the bell rang.

“this isn’t over.” he said holding his black eye before they ran away.

you let out a shaky breath, your heart beating fast, not knowing you had that in you.

without thinking about it twice, you ran to the bathroom, wanting to check up on the boy.

you found him gripping the edge of the sink, his head down as he let out heavy breaths. he looked like he was having a panic attack.

you walked closer to him, stretching your arm to touch his shoulder but he abruptly stepped back, his eyes wide and full of tears.

“no! don’t touch me!” he screamed while trembling, before sliding down the wall and sitting down with his head between his hands.

you crouched down infront of him, gulping down the knot in your throat and fighting back tears. you hated seeing people like this. especially this poor, sweet boy.

“i’m not gonna hurt you.” you almost whispered as you slowly took his hand, your heart fluttering because he let you grab it, “listen, you’re safe here with me, they’re not gonna hurt you again. trust me, i will protect you.”

bill relaxed against your touch and listening to your words, “i-i…i don’t know how to thank you.” he almost whispered, tears still streaming down his face.

you wiped them away with your thumbs, a soft smile on your face, “it’s okay, you don’t have to.”

he smiled, bringing you into a hug. you closed your eyes while you took in his scent, stroking his back. “i’m here now.”

when you broke away, he let out an embarrassed laugh, before sighing.

“why don’t we get out of here? maybe we can go to my house if you’re comfortable with it, eat something, watch a movie…” you wanted him to have a good day after this horrible morning.

he nodded frantically, “yes please.” he almost pleaded getting up from the floor. you got up after him and you were shocked when he took your hand, leading you out of the school.

arrived at your house, you were both just having fun. you were sitting down on your bed, eating some pancakes that you had cooked just for him as an horror movie played in the back. you discovered he liked them a lot.

“guess what number i’m thinking!” you said taking a bite out of your pancake.

“mmmh, six?” bill laughed before drinking some water.

“close! seven.” you smiled turning your gaze to the tv.

suddenly, you felt him leaning against your shoulder with his head, a small smile plastered on his lips.

“thank you for everything.” he softly said, closing his eyes. you looked at him biting your lower lip.

you had to say it. it was now or never.

“i-i…” you stuttered, your heart stopping when you saw him staring at you, “i-i…love you.”

bill’s eyes widened, he sat up straight, before grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you all of a sudden.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, closing your eyes and savouring his taste.

when you guys broke away, you both were out of breath. “i love you too.” he smiled placing his forehead against yours, giving you another small kiss.

“can we sleep a bit? i’m tired. i wanna forget everything about this morning.” he said laying down on his his hip, facing you. you nodded, putting your arm around his waist. he did the same, closing his eyes.

you were out of words, you were laying down with your crush, kissed him and revealed your feelings. you dreamt about this day since you met him.

slowly, you fell asleep, dreaming of you and bill living happily together.

[alaskan-wallflower]

south park body headcanons (im imagining late teens/20s here) - agree or disagree?

stan: 5’10”. stocky, not fat but not super muscular, although it would be easy for him to put on muscle if he wanted to. just doesn’t prioritize it over his creative stuff. strong biceps and shoulders but he got that beer gut. love it.

kyle: 6’2”. lean string bean. conventionally thin with a sleeper build, strong arms and visible abs bc he’s more into sports/working out than the others. he goes on 6am runs and does pushups in the morning let’s be real. and i like the thought of him being awkwardly taller then the other 3.

cartman: 5’8”. he is still volumptious! i don’t care what anyone says. that boy will not mature to be a muscle monster alpha. whatevea whateva, he does what he wants! which would be eating lots of kfc and liane’s cooking. and not working it off. terrible team player and has no sportsmanship, he would not be in any sports.

kenny: 5’6”. he’s the shortest because he was malnourished as a child but we love a short king. scrawny but could hold up in a fight, a little muscular from doing random jobs + i think he’d do football or track.

Stan: Agree. He’s got a bit of a tummy but that never hurt anyone. I kinda picture him being built kinda like Pacha from Emperor’s New Groove. Not quite as chubby but you get the picture. He’s solid. If you throw him at a moving truck he’d ricochet off. Randy probably insisted that he ate more ‘rich people food’ which contributed to his broadness, because Randy kept feeding him too much to ‘make him look like a real rich guy’. Hes got the quarterback build. Hes overweight but most of it is because he’s just solid in high school.

Kyle: Agree! Kyle w/sleepers build is now a fav hdc of mine. i feel like he was that one kid as a freshman who was absolutely rail thin because every calorie he ate went to his height instead of his muscles, but then junior year hits and he suddenly starts gaining muscle. He has a very strict workout routine and likes going for morning runs while the sun’s rising. It helps him clear his head. His immediate response to stress is to exercise. He has a ton of random growth spurts and when he’s at the bus stop with the other 3 the summer after 8th grade he just looms over them, lmao-he’s absolutely strong though. Just because he was rail thin as a freshman did not mean he was weak.

Cartman: Absolutely! I hate when people make Cartman suddenly buff, as if he would give up Cheesy Poofs and Butterwich Sabdwixhes He’s still a chubby boy even in his teen years. Hes that one kid who walks the mile in gym because he ‘doesn’t feel like running today’. Whenever his team loses usually because of him he absolutely throws a fit. He hit Kyle in the head with a baseball bat and nearly split his head open in eighth grade because he lost. Hes thrown kickballs in fits of rage and gives no fucks. Whenever he wins you don’t stop hearing it from him for months afterwards. He would never lift a finger to work off all the KFC and Cheesy Poifs he eats. I don’t care what people say. He’s not gonna suddenly have a change of heart and work off all that. It’s not in character for him. Just look at him in “Raising the Bar”.

Kenny: Agree! He probably has scars on his body from doing stupid shit for money. He didn’t have much to go off of, like you said, because he was malnourished as a kid. I do like to think his friends (mainly Butters and Kyle) start noticing Kenny is way thinner than they thought, and start giving him food, so he does eventually have his growth spurt, but he’s definitely not the tallest. His hands and arms are probably really calloused from random jobs he’s picked up. He’s extremely scrappy and could probably kick ass in a fight, even if he’s malnourished. In his teen years his friends start letting him shower at their place. He starts taking better care of his body as well, with the help of his friends. Hes a tiny little thing tho. I don’t see him being gigantic, but he’s not like-elf sized either.

Agree 100% with these!!

[ng-scanlations]

Bloody Roar 2 V-Jump book bio: Yugo

Something worth protecting

I wonder if I went overboard— just a tiny bit. I jumped in there then insisted to them “Lemme spar!”, hit my partner with a knockout blow (dammit, really didn’t mean to do that), and more than likely ruined the boxing gym’s reputation. But hey— if there was anything that could be considered the quickest way to gauge my true strength— well then, this was it, heheh! In any case, I just need to earn some money fast. You probably know by now that I’m not exactly a regular human being. And I get it, I’m not fit to be a parent; don’t have the biggest brains or whatever the hell you’d call “familial relations” either. Still…. While looking for my old man, I met this guy. He’s just a little kid who was being kept by those people so they could find ways to abuse his zoanthrope abilities. I couldn’t just leave him there— in that place. Now that I’ve decided to take him in, I gotta keep him well fed.

It didn’t suit the kind of guy like me to simply work a part-time job for a measly wage— at least that’s how I felt. By going the pro-boxer route instead, I figured I’d be able to make a killing in no time. No offense those guys but, when it comes to fistfights, I don’t like losing even though it’s mean of me not to hold back. I know that if anyone ever finds out I’m a zoanthrope, someone might cause a commotion. But… I honestly couldn’t care less about that; it’ll probably be fine. Doesn’t really matter right? I mean, it’s not like I’m actually gonna morph into my beast form to fight. Wouldn’t make sense showing off my fangs or claws considering I’d be fighting with gloves on after all. I wanted to take on the challenge for the title of champion immediately, but I heard that there’s tons of complex procedures you have to go through to actually become a pro— tests and all that tiresome stuff. Guess I’ll have to start from the beginning as a trainee for now. Argh, it’s pretty annoying— though, you know what they always say— no pain, no gain. Sorry little guy, but it’s gonna take a while to get my boxer’s license. Until then, just leave everything to me okay? Once I become a pro, I’ll buy and feed you all sorts of good food with my fight money…..

[betterthanpekej]

Your sugar daddy said you two were going shopping today- but really, who wants to watch someone get fitted for a new suit? Where is the fun in that? You took matters into your own hands, trying to find a way to pass the time- but at what consequences?

wc: 3941 tags: sugardaddy!chifuyu, fem!reader, bratty!reader, NSFW, smut, porn with plot, pet names (doll, princess), established relationship (this is more than transactional), hints of jealousy, oral (male receiving), vaginal fingering, public sex (at the mall huehuehue), quickie, unprotected sex, creampie, some praising, some humiliation because reader is bad girl, not beta read, minimally proofread because i am lazy.

a/n: this is my contribution to @sleepysnk's SugarDaddyCollab! I wanted to finish this a long ass time ago, but I think nerves got to me so I am sorry it took so long. I literally fought with this fic, Chifuyu is going to have to wine and dine me later to make it up to me. I hope you enjoy it !

As you sat there on the soft chair in the store, scrolling your phone with your freshly manicured teal nails, you thought about how much you hated waiting. An impatient sigh left your mouth as you kept refreshing your social media feed and jumped from app to app, trying to find something to entertain you. “Are you bored, doll?” a voice asked from in front of you. You looked up, meeting eyes with the person responsible for your waiting. His black hair seemed to fall perfectly across his face, only accentuating the blue-green color of his eyes.

“Fuyu, when you said we were going shopping, I didn’t think you meant for you,” you said with an eye roll. You huffed as you locked your phone and crossed your arms over your chest. You watched as Chifuyu only lightly chuckled at your words and smirked. “I don’t want to sit here and watch you get fitted for a new suit,” you said glaring up at him. You could sense how much you were testing his patience, but you didn’t care. He had promised to take you shopping today, letting you splurge on all your heart’s desires. This was far from what you had in mind.

Chifuyu continued standing there, extending his arms out for the tailor to take more measurements. “I said we would go shopping, yes. But I never said you were the only one shopping,” he said as he looked back down at you in your seat, giving you a very smug grin. You said nothing, glaring hard enough to drill imaginary holes through him. You knew he was only trying to poke your buttons more with his comments. “Y’know, you’re even more adorable when you try to look angry,” he teased and then changed his gaze to the tailor. “Don’t you think so?”

The tailor looked at Chifuyu then glanced at you before answering. “Yes, of course, sir,” they said. You rolled your eyes as Chifuyu stood there and gave you another grin. “Oh, come on now. Stop sulking. Come here,” he said, gesturing for you to come towards him. “No,” you said as you cocked your head to the side. Your attitude made him raise his eyebrows for a moment, not that it should be any surprise to him at this point. He exhaled in discontent as he turned back to face the tailor. “Then you can go wait outside until I’m done then,” he said sternly. You grabbed your bag from beside you and left the store annoyed without saying another word to him.

The mall was bustling today, it seemed everywhere you looked there was no real place to wait outside the store alone. You figured if Chifuyu was going to make you wait until he was done, you’d find a way to get what you wanted in the meantime. You scoped the surrounding area, looking for anyone who reeked of money. You saw one man standing by the railings, looking down at the first floor of the mall. He was tall and well-dressed, his tailored suit and the leather-strapped Cartier watch told you he had some kind of finances. You glanced inside the store, seeing Chifuyu still getting his measurements taken. A little flirting wouldn’t hurt if it got you a new bag or something in the end, would it?

You walked over to where he was standing, making yourself slightly stumble and drop your bag right behind him. “AGH-,” you shrieked, trying to make sure you captured his attention. The man turned around fairly quickly, grabbing your hand to help deter your fall and catch your balance. He bent down and grabbed your bag to hand to you. “Are you okay? You dropped this,” he said as you took the bag he held out to you. “Thanks, sorry, I’m so clumsy,” you giggled in a very innocent way. “Wow! That’s a nice watch, Cartier?” you asked as you looked down at his wrist.

He chuckled and gave you a smile. “Yes, it is actually. You know your brands,” he hummed. You giggled again, hoping your displays of a clumsy, innocent girl would pull the wool over this man’s eyes. “What can I say,” you said with a smile, “I like nice things.” You let go of his wrist and used your hand to glide up his arm, stopping at his bicep. “Is a guy as handsome as you waiting on someone?” you asked with a sweet smile. You could tell he was into this from how he snickered as you smiled at him, the look in his eyes were something akin to a hunter looking at his prey. But in all actuality, it was he who was the prey. Before he could answer your question, you heard a familiar voice approaching you both.

“Aren’t you supposed to be waiting for someone?” Chifuyu said as he came up behind you. He moved between you and the man, turning his back to the man and leaned into your ear. “Really? You think you can get your way any time you want?” he whispered in your ear. He pulled back from your ear and looked into your eyes. By his expression, you figured you were in for more than an earful later. “I told you I wanted to go shopping,” you huffed. “Excuse me?” the guy behind Chifuyu said confused, realizing he was only being toyed with the whole time. “You did this to try and get me to take you shopping? You’re nothing but a who-”

“Watch your mouth,” Chifuyu said, turning back to him. You could tell by his tone that he was serious; you grabbed his arm, trying to tug on it so the two of you could leave. Your tugging did nothing. Although Chifuyu was older now and held the title of CEO for Peke J Land, he still had his delinquent roots and, on occasion, they would still come out. “Whatever, man,” the man groaned as he walked away angrily. Chifuyu’s gaze came back to you, clearly unhappy with you. “You did this for what? A new bag?” he said in a very displeased tone. “I thought you brought me here to spoil me,” you whined, giving him a little pouty face to feign innocence.

“Don’t act like a brat and maybe I will take you shopping,” he said as he grabbed your hand. “I can’t just give you what you want when you act like a brat. What fun is that?” He traced the palm of your hand with his fingers. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly, stopping your display of fake pouting. “Are you?” he said, raising an eyebrow at you as he stopped running his fingers across your palm. “Y’know, if that guy would’ve kept talking, I probably would’ve done something I would’ve regretted,” he said with a laugh. “I tried to pull you away, you weren’t paying me any attention,” you whined again. “The guy couldn’t even afford you if he wanted to,” Chifuyu said. 

“I mean, he had a Cartier watch. He has some kind of money,” you teased. Chifuyu spoke with an assertive tone, one that almost seemed like he was a little jealous. “His watch didn’t even look real,” he snickered, changing to a more stern tone as he continued, “but that’s not enough to make you go and replace me.” He was right though. No amount of money that guy had would’ve made you end what you had with Chifuyu, even if you did love money and nice things. Chifuyu provided for you in more ways than one. Not only did he cover you financially, but after agreeing to live with him, you found that he was quite the exceptional partner. He would come home from work, showering you with gifts and his affections. Telling you that you were his princess, which only fed your spoiled brat behavior more each time. “I would never,” you assured him.

He stood there on his phone, more than likely checking his emails to make sure he wasn’t missing anything important for his business. “Fuyu?” you said confused. He put his phone in his pocket and took your hand again, this time leading you through the mall. “Wait, are we not leaving? The car garage is the other way.” You were confused; he knew this was the wrong way, so where were you two going? “I thought you wanted to shop?” he said with a chuckle. “I said we were shopping.” Your eyes lit up at his words. Even after he said he couldn’t just let you have your way, he was still doing exactly what you wanted.

—

The new Balmain store had just opened at your local mall a few months ago, but at this point, the staff there already knew you and Chifuyu pretty well. They loved when you came in, always browsing the newest garments that have just arrived. You could easily pay their hourly wages for a month or so from the commissions they earned off you alone. You were asked before by one of the girls what the status was between you and the handsome man who would bring you to buy these things, but you weren’t ready to indulge her anytime soon, so you just laughed at the inquiry without answering.

“Hiii~” one of the girls chimed as she walked up to you and embraced you in a hug as you came through the door. This particular girl was your favorite there, she always suggested styles that would look best on you and was honest in her opinions when you questioned if something suited you or not. “Oh my, hii~” you sang happily in response. “I have to show you this, you’re gonna love it!” she exclaimed as she took your hand and pulled you through the store. Chifuyu left you alone, leisurely walking through the store like he always did.

The store attendant handed you dress after dress, expressing how each one would only accentuate your curves in the best way and how she thought that Chifuyu would probably like some of the dresses more than others. You came back to find him looking at some of the accessories on one of the displays. “I want your opinion,” you requested. He turned to see the attendant beside you holding at least 6-7 dresses. He knew that this request was more of a formality so that he could see everything he was buying before it left the store; you didn’t actually need his opinion on them since you already decided to purchase them all. “Of course,” he smiled as he followed you and the attendant to the back where the dressing rooms were. Typically, the store wouldn’t allow for more than one person in the dressing room area, but for you- this girl would bend the rules on occasion since she trusted you and Chifuyu. As she put the clothes in the dressing room for you, you thanked her and peered over your shoulder. Chifuyu was sitting on the bench, his left arm draped over the back rest while he aimlessly scrolled his phone.

“I’ll leave you to it then. Let me know if you need anything,” she said cheerfully and walked away. You shut the door and slowly got undressed, putting on the first dress hanging up. It was a black long sleeved minidress with gold accents on the front. The design was intricate; it was obvious that the designer took their time to put a piece together that accented all the curves on the body in a flattering way. You put it on and straightened it out before opening the door for Chifuyu to see. “Do you like this one?” you asked with a smile. He barely looked up from his phone and glanced at you before looking back down. “Yes, that one is nice,” he answered. For a moment, you stood there, hoping he would say more, but he didn’t. It was clear he was agitated by your antics earlier still, even if he was being nice and letting you have your little shopping spree. You deemed it necessary to apologize to him, and sooner rather than later.

“Fuyu? Can you help me?” you coyly asked from the cracked dressing room door. “Of course, princess,” Chifuyu replied as he got up from the bench. “What do you need?” he asked as he stood in front of the door. You opened it a little wider and turned with your back facing him. “Can you just unzip this for me, please?” Turned around, you thought Chifuyu couldn’t see your smug smile. Teasingly, he took his time unzipping the back of the dress; it was almost painfully too slow. When the zipper was midway down your back, he stopped and took a step forward, closing the gap between you and him. “I think this is the part where you’re supposed to shut the door now,” he whispered the words into your ear. His words were as sweet as honey. With a satisfied smile, you cautiously checked around the dressing room area, making sure your friendly attendant was nowhere in sight before closing the door.

“Do you like the dress that much?” you teased as he trailed his fingers up your arm. He gave a mischievous grin and softly raised your chin to him. “You would’ve dragged me in here even if I tried to walk away. Don’t play dumb, doll,” He knew you all too well, that was your plan. His hands caressed the side of your face as he brought your lips to his. His kiss was hungry, like he had been starved all day and was finally able to satiate his cravings with a meal. The impact of his lips against yours made you stumble back a bit, leaving your back pressed against the wall of the dressing room. You unbuttoned the jacket of his suit, gliding your hands over his torso and down. You squeezed at the erection forming in his pants, eliciting a soft moan from him into your mouth. “I wanted to apologize,” you expressed as you pulled away from the kiss.

Chifuyu looked back at you with lust filled eyes before pulling you into another kiss. You undid his belt, trying to not make too much noise that would attract attention. “As you should,” he teased, the words rolling off his tongue so deliciously. You obliged happily, pulling down his pants and releasing the ever growing erection from the constraints of his clothing. You watched him smirk as you took him into your hands eagerly, stroking him slowly as you maintained eye contact. “You have to be quiet, y’know?” you teased. He scoffed at your words as you got down on your knees, a little insulted that you had no faith in his will power. “Me? We’ll see who really has to be quiet, won’t we?” he teased back, only making you more aroused. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back as he felt your lips on his skin, teasingly giving feathery kisses down his hardened shaft.

A sigh left his lips as you gingerly licked at his tip, you were watching him intently as he brought his gaze back to yours. You grinned up at him as he rested his hands on your head as you started to suck on the tip of his cock, tasting the small drops of precum on your tongue. He let out a breathy moan as you took him deeper into your mouth. You raised an eyebrow at him, grinning once more before releasing him from your mouth, still pumping him. “I thought you were going to be quiet.” He chuckled at your words and bit his lower lip. With his hands still on your head, he brought his cock back to your mouth. “Don’t stop, princess.” The look in his eyes was still full of lust, his rationale was clouded by how painfully he wanted you.

He kept his hands on your head as you started to take him deeper into your throat. Another breathy moan made its way past his lips as you bobbed your head. “Y-you look so pretty like this, so pretty,” he muttered, still trying to be mindful of his volume. You steadied yourself by grabbing onto his thighs as he took control of the pace, but stopped after a few thrusts. “Stand up,” he breathed. He grabbed your hand and pulled you up from the floor, pressing your body back against the wall of the dressing room. “Fuyu?!” you said surprised. He was ravenous, his hands were feeling all over your body as he kissed your neck, occasionally giving it small nips.

Chifuyu didn’t say anything to you in the moment until he pushed the dress up some, running his hands between your thighs and trailing his index finger over your panties. “I need you, like now, please.” The breath of his words hit your skin and made you feel like your knees were going to buckle. “Now? Here? What if she comes back?” At least with an apology blowjob, you only had to worry about Chifuyu being loud, but him actually fucking you in the dressing room? It would be a lot harder to be discrete. His hands squeezed at your hips as he pulled himself to you. “Yes, now,” he leaned away from your neck, looking at you with the same lust filled eyes as before. “We can be quick, I just need to be inside you.” The expression on his face was desperate and you could tell that he wasn’t going to be satisfied any other way.

You nodded, giving him the okay to do as he pleased; you too wanted the same thing. His fingers swiftly took off your underwear. “You don’t need these right now,” he chuckled as he tossed them onto the bench in the small room. You started to laugh as well, but found yourself softly moaning as he inserted one finger into your deprived hole. He furrowed his brows at you, taking his other hand from your hips and covering your mouth. “Shhh, doll,” he purred into your ear as he inserted another finger into you. You inhaled sharply feeling him thrust his fingers into you, instinctively rolling your hips into his hand for more friction. Knock, knock.

“Do you need any help with anything? More dresses?” Your friendly attendant was back, doing her job and making sure you were well taken care of. Your eyes were wide from the jerk back to reality her knocking and voice brought to you. Chifuyu slowly removed his hand from your mouth so you could respond. You cleared your throat before answering. “Nope! Everything is fi-” You words were cut off as you felt Chifuyu teasingly rub his fingers across your clit. “I’m sorry?” the girl said from the other side of the door. “Everything is fine. It’s fine, I don’t need anything,” you practically blurted out. “Okay! Just checking!” The attendant’s cheerful voice faded off into the distance as you glared at Chifuyu, who knew exactly what he was doing. All he did was grin back at you, loving how you crumbled under his touch.

“Now that she definitely isn’t coming back for awhile…,” he said as he grabbed you by the hips again, this time turning you around to face the wall. Your face was damn near pressed up against the mirror in the small room, but you knew it was intentional. Chifuyu always liked having you watch him please you, wanting you to see the way no one besides himself would have you. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on more, being able to still see the expression on his face, the way he looked at you as he ruthlessly pounded into you on those occasions. He aligned his cock with your aching hole, softly sighing as he pushed himself deeper and fully sheathed himself inside you. He wrapped his hand around your neck gently as he pulled your head back to his chest. He started thrusting slowly at first, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you tried to steady your balance by putting your hand on the wall.

“I’ll never get over how you feel, how good your pussy feels. God, it’s so-” He let out a moan into the skin of your neck as he started to lick and kiss at it once more. “So, so good,” he purred. As his kisses on your skin grew more hungry, so did the pace of his thrusting. The position he had you in made you feel every inch of him, dragging so sweetly in and out of you. “Yes, it- it feels- s’good,” you panted, feeling the sweat start to form on your body. If for some reason you didn’t plan to buy this dress before, you were going to have to at this point. His hand around your neck moved down your body, not missing any dip and curve until it found its home on your hips once more. You were steadying yourself with both hands now up against the wall, pushing yourself into him so the thrusts wouldn’t make you fall forward.

His thrusts were precise, making sure each one was hitting you in the most perfect way he knew you liked. The heat burning in your core was reaching its peak; you reached your hand around to grab at Chifuyu’s wrist. “Please, I-I’m gonna cum,” you whined, biting your lip to hold back the string of moans you desperately wanted to let out. Chifuyu grinned at your words, his grip on your hips tightened as he upped the force of each thrust. “Then cum for me,” he chuckled cheekily. You didn’t need anything else to push you over the edge, your body could melt on its own just from his words before he even touched you. He covered your mouth once more to muffle your cries into his hand as your walls were tightening and contracting around his cock.

He slowed his thrusts as he grunted into the air behind you. Sensitive as you were, you could feel the veins pulsating inside you as he came with you. You both stood there for a moment, trying to catch your breath a bit and come down from your pleasure high. He pulled out slowly, taking out his dress suit’s pocket square and cleaning himself off before zipping back up his pants and buttoning his shirt back up, trying to make himself more representable again. He folded the cotton square in a way that it wouldn’t get anything on his suit before putting it in the inner pocket of his jacket. You reached for your underwear that was laying on the bench still, feeling Chifuyu grab your wrist as you held it in your hand. “What?” you asked confused. “You still don’t need these,” he said as he removed them from your hand and put them in the same spot as his pocket square. 

You stared blankly at him, the least he could do after cumming inside you was let you put your underwear back home to save you a little bit from the embarrassment of any dripping down your leg. “But … what if it drips out, Fuyu?” You watched as the dark haired man in front of you chuckled and used his fingers to turn your chin up to him. “Then I guess you’ll have to make sure you keep your pretty, little legs closed tight until we leave the mall,” he grinned as he brought your face to his and gave you a kiss on the lips.

© MDNI Banner | Chifuyu graphic edited by me | please do not copy and or repost my work as your own, my brain is massive and these are my thoughts. you do not have permission to translate and/or distribute my works on any site.

[shywhumpauthor]

The Merry Whump of May—Day Twenty Five

“It takes two to tango”

Hot Coffee | Doubt | In Line

The Merry Whump of May Masterlist

Cw: pet whump, past abuse, conditioning, not really hurt, not really comfort, normalized dehumanization, collar/restraints

Whumper had never really wanted a pet.

They had never seen the need, really. Why it would be so intriguing for someone to spend a ludicrous amount of money to do something you could pay anyone else to do for a mere fraction of the price. If you needed your house cleaned, they had always thought just hire a damn service. There’s no need to spend tens of thousands of dollars on some dimwit who had been abused to the point that they couldn’t function outside of their designated “use”.

It was a moronic idea, they thought. though they could see some benefits, the taxes heavily outweighed any good that could come from it. Healthcare bills, training, not to mention all of the supplies they needed. Food, clothes, toiletries, if Whumper had wanted to deal with all that crap, they would’ve gotten a damn roommate. At least then they’d have help with the bills. Water, electricity, heat, none of that shit was cheap.

They wouldn’t say they were anywhere near tight on money. Actually, they were pretty well off, all things considered. Working as a manager for some utility company, and the inheritance from their parents, they had quite a nice amount tucked away in their bank account. Enough to afford themself a nice house in a quiet neighborhood, a smooth running car, even a boat which they took to the lake every few weekends. But still, they didn’t like spending unnecessary funds. Why would they spend it on whatever useless clutter when it could be doubling itself in interest in a savings account.

They weren’t a minimalist, though. They lived comfortably. Curtains around the windows, blankets across the back of the couch, little personal touches around their home just enough to make it look homey.

And now, a small person huddled in their living room corner, kneeling, watching them with wide eyes.

They didn’t recall entering any so-called raffle. Ot had been one of those things, where the cashier at some supermarket asks if you would like to donate your change to charity or some shit. “Would you like to donate an extra ten dollars to help support the local Shelter and be entered into a drawing for a free companion?” Whumper never said yes to that kind of stuff, but apparently that one day, four months ago or something, they had. Scrounging back through their receipts and bank notices, they confirmed it was true.

Why the fuck would they do that?

A free pet, all supplies included—that was a load of bullshit. All supplies seemed to include a cheap, uncomfortable looking collar, made out of a material that looked almost plastic, a leash to pair with it, a week’s worth of whatever nutrient-heavy crap that Whumper wouldn’t even feed to a dog, a wire crate that wasn’t big enough to fit a regular sized person, but with the pet’s frail stature they managed to squeeze in, and a small, handheld stun gun like the one someone might carry on a keychain when they go out at night.

And of course, once they had arrived at the damned shelter, which had the same feel as one of those department pet stores, fluorescent lights reflecting off all of the cheap, artificially colored merchandise. Despite how they decorated, trying to incorporate colors and designs throughout, it was still insanely depressing.

Some pets had been kept out front, the pretty, showcase ones who were held at a price so ludicrous no one in their right mind would ever pay for, some curled in wider cages sleeping, others simply sitting around the floor. One was even helping a cashier bag stuff.

Ten dollars for a damn raffle ticket, then a couple hundred more spent on adequate supplies. They weren’t a monster, pet or not, Whumper wasn’t going to force them to sleep on that cold wire. They bought a nice enough pet bed, the cheapest they could find without it looking like it would fall apart if you tugged at the seams. It was still expensive.

Thankfully, the shelter had reimbursed the price of what they didn’t take. The small wire cage, worth maybe thirty-five, they were able to trade in for a larger, slightly more comfortable looking one worth sixty five, and only pay the difference of thirty. They had gotten a few more items there, what the manager had insisted they would need. A shock collar paired with a remote, a subtle blue nylon strap restraints with clasps and buckles for easy adjusting, a few sets of the basic grey scrub-like clothes the pets commonly wore—although they were available in a variety of other colors, grey was the cheapest—and a few other necessities.

Whumper wasn’t sure what they had been expecting when it came to terms of the pet itself, but it was not like anything they could’ve thought of.

They were scrawny and fragile, nothing like the pets kept out front. They looked like a strong gust of wind could knock them over completely. Like they hadn’t eaten, or been outside, or had a proper shower in months. They were clean enough, Whumper supposed, but glancing down at them. They weren’t obviously dirty, but over the worn material of their shorts and shirt, the way their hair hung limp, it was clear they needed a nice long bath. And a meal.

A domestic, the manager had said they were. Trained for basic maintenance tasks. Chores and yard work, said they were trustworthy and dependable. The manager had said they were one of the best trained there, which Whumper supposed they could see. The way they sat, even though they shrunk back a bit, they held their back straight and their chin tipped down, palms facing up resting above their knees, though their hands were trembling.

Whumper didn’t see too many injuries. Bruises on their knees, fainter ones along their wrists, a yellowing purple tint beneath their collar, the skin red from where the uncomfortable material irritated it. They had a few scars, not many at all, a faint one across their thigh and another wrapping around their upper arm, just above their elbow. On the inside of their left wrist, Whumper could see the barcode tattoo, freshly inked over and standing out contrastingly against the skin. But where their shirt collar sagged, dipping a bit below their collarbones, Whumper could see the edge of a brand, ugly patches of skin standing out against the untouched.

Secondhand, clearly.

“Come here,” Whumper finally said, after a few long moments of simply looking down at them. The pet’s eyes flicked up to theirs, and they didn’t hesitate to shuffle forwards on their knees, the distance not enough to prompt them to stand up and walk over, but enough for it to take them a moment before they stopped maybe a foot and a half away from Whumper, sinking back to sit on their heels.

It was hard for Whumper to tell what they were looking at. Whether the emotion in the pet’s eyes was fear or anticipation or something else. Whether the way they say back so tense was from the months, maybe years of training or because they were hyper aware of their body, vowing not to make any mistakes.

Whumper crouched in front of them, weight resting in their toes as they reached their hands over to the pet’s neck. The pet, to their credit, didn’t flinch like Whumper was half expecting them to, but they tensed, clear anticipation of something unpleasant to follow.

Whumper twisted the collar so the buckle was in front, and with a few easy movements they pulled it away, frowning at the texture, and the marks left along the pet’s neck.

“I’ll take you out to pick a new one tomorrow,” Whumper stood back up, tossing the collar over to the couch. “Something more comfortable.”

“Get up, I’ll show you to the bathroom. Take a long shower and clean yourself up. Then you can help me make dinner.”

Whumper gave a short motion with their hand, stepping back, allowing the pet room to rise shakily to their feet.

They never wanted a pet, but they supposed, all considered, that having someone else in the house wouldn’t be the worst thing ever.

And they really hated doing the dishes.

————————————————

Zero plot but whatever

@themerrywhumpofmay

[feastonkings]

boyd holbrook / he/him ——— no way is that FINNEGAN ‘FINN’ O’CONNOR.. they’re a 37-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being ABRASIVE & UNHINGED but there are some people who have seen them being LOYAL & DEPENDABLE. if you ask me, they remind me a lot of a blood tinted smile, embracing the darkness to become limitless, the roar of a beast within hungry for more, fanning the flames of violence, and a taunting laugh, but that could just be because they’re considered the BLOOD KNIGHT around town. just keep an eye on them & see if their true colors shine through..

GENERAL.

full name: finnegan patrick o'connor nicknames: ireland, finn (preferred name) classification: enhanced human gender / pronouns: cis man, he/him age / birthday: 37, march 27th orientations: bisexual, homoromantic occupation: capo for skyport mafia & co-owner of exposed circuits location: middle district status: single family: patrick o'connor (father), margaret march (mother, unknown), kirby (half sibling), several half siblings and cousins strengths: hard-working, loyal, dependable, stoic, protective weaknesses: abrasive, unhinged, sadistic, violent, stubborn character inspo: tba

BIOGRAPHY.

tw: violence, child abuse, addiction, murder, implied homophobia, neglect

born in a chicago prison to a drug addicted sex worker, finnegan o'connor was destined to walk the wrong path from the beginning. patrick o’connor, his father, escaped as a fugitive to america from ireland. He was on the run after being arrested on suspicions of his involvement with the irish mafia. very true accusations, hence why he ran.

in the states, patrick kept his ties with his mafia family back home, running weapons, taking people out, making explosives, and getting rid of whatever other contraband they needed to move outside the country. by the time the guards handed him finn, he had already become a well known name in chicago for all the wrong reasons.

with his father knee deep in international crime, one would assume that they had money but it never seemed like Ffnn or any of his siblings got any benefit from it. they lived in the southside, in a house that should have been condemned long before they occupied it but there were not many city workers brave enough to enter their area.

his mother was non-existent, most of his younger siblings related to him through his father. if finn were to sit down and think about it, he probably has a lot more brothers and sisters out there. the money for food Patrick gave whatever woman he was seeing at the time rarely made it into the kitchen. they were expected to eat what was there, or find some other way to feed themselves. it was a damn miracle any of them survived at all but somehow they managed.

once they were all old enough for school, they had a system down and were already involved in the family business in one way or another.

his volatile home environment offered little nurture there and love was non-existent. he only ever learned a few things: don’t talk to the cops, don’t ask stupid questions, protect the family, and do whatever his father says. the last one was key, because if you didn’t listen you were sure to feel it. which may happen regardless if his father was in one of his moods.

he would claim finn needed to learn some lessons and over time, it became normal. crying or showing any type of emotion made you weak in his eyes so finn learned early on to bottle it up and find other ways to express pain. usually it was through violence, picking fights with anyone who would oblige him. by his teen years he would add substances into the mix to drown the demons or induce a short period of numbness to escape.

finn went to school when he felt like it and wasn’t much of the academic type. as far as he was concerned, by the time he hit ninth grade he had learned everything he needed to for life. he spent most of his time terrorizing fellow students, stealing what he wanted from them and beating the piss out of anyone who messed with family or looked at him wrong. his fuse has always been short, and his first reaction was and often still is violence, it excited him.

otherwise, he was doing work for the family business or running around in the streets of chicago. sometimes this meant partying with friends and associates, other times it meant running and hiding from the cops. he ran from cops like he ran from his feelings and he was damn good at it, for the most part.

things changed when patrick was arrested and five of the children currently living with him were put into the system. finn tried to get as many paired off as possible to keep them together. he'd done his best to look out for his younger siblings when he could, as the oldest he took a bit of responsibility in it, only a little bit though. over time they all had their own agenda and were angry and bitter just like him.

the plan had always been to get out of chicago. once he turned eighteen he could take a sibling or two and they could head anywhere and start over. get a better life with clean air and sunshine in a place where the name o'connor had nothing attached to it. dreams were just dreams, though and at the end of the day finn should've known patrick would find a way to fuck it all up.

all he'd wanted was to take advantage of the empty house for once and then get what was his before his father returned. instead, he was interrupted mid-session with his boyfriend axel who he'd been seeing for awhile. drunk, hateful, and barely coherent, a mixture of strong irish laced slurs fell from his father's mouth. no son of mine is going to end up becoming a string of gay slurs and other remarks. where was everyone else? he had a business to run, was this why wasn't finn taking care of it while he was gone? a worthless failure just like the rest of his offspring.

finn tried to push axel out while his father rambled on. he wouldn't admit it, but axel was the first person he made an attempt at some real kind of relationship that wasn't filled with toxic sewer waste with. his father stopped axel from leaving, and threw him across the room like a ragdoll. he hit finn with several strong fists and pulled his gun on both of them, forcing them to stay in the room.

when patrick returned, he brought a woman with him who happened to be a sex worker. he gave him the ultimatum to sleep with her and 'prove he was a man'. knowing his trigger happy pops, finn did as he said trying not to look at his frightened boyfriend still sitting in the room. he regretted it, because the other got up and once again tried to flee. finn stopped what he was doing to try and prevent his father from doing anything but it was pointless.

patrick beat finn to the brink of unconsciousness, just before things went black he watched him unload the pistol into axel. when he came to the body was gone and he was forced to clean up the mess left behind. his father screamed at him, calling him every slur in the book and told him to get his shit together or he wasn’t his son. for some reason finn stayed around for another month, practically a drone while he healed, blocking out everything around him.

it wasn't long before patrick noticed and confronted finn again. when finn started to pay attention to what he was saying, it was like he woke up. he pushed the older man away from him. patrick stepped forward and raised an empty bottle in his hand to strike, but this time a hand caught his wrist.

something snapped inside finn, he was not going to take any more of his father's bullshit. years of pent up rage, resentment, and pure unadulterated anger poured out of him as he laid into the only man he'd ever feared. blinded by the rage, he didn’t remember who pulled him off his father or if he stopped on his own. all he noticed was patrick didn’t appear to be breathing and a female voice yelling she’d called 911. the next thing he heard was the sirens.

he got up and ran as fast as he could, but this time he couldn’t hide from the pursuit of the police. they caught up with him hiding behind a local bar and threw him to the ground, arresting him. the charges were attempted murder and possession of an illegal firearm. “so, the asshole lived?” was the only response he gave and laughed as they put him into the car.

since he was seventeen, they were able to charge him as an adult. he had a chance to change that if he was willing to give them information on patrick and his involvement with the mob. of course, even after everything the man had done to him and his siblings, finn was no snitch. the judge took the long history provided by the social worker assigned to the o’connor family into account, giving him a sentence of only five years versus the max of fifteen.

he took the sentence with a smile, going away for five years wasn't hard. prison was not that bad of a place in comparison to what he was used to. it was clean, full of people he could relate to, and he was served three hot meals a day. he was cold and numb for the first few months, but soon enough he'd built a reputation for himself as someone who could get any job done and wasn’t to be messed with.

he made some quick money once he was free and a car, not looking to go back home ever again. finn took off to texas, with the promise of a job he'd be good at from his cell mate who'd been involved with the mob down there. soon enough he was in dallas, with new documents and a capo position with the skyport mafia.

over the next several years he built up his name again, as someone who is ruthless, sadistic, and to be feared with enemies. to some he was a protector and others just saw him as a weapon. truly finn could give a fuck less what anyone thought.

he co-owns exposed circuits and enjoys the services they're able to provide the public. some of his siblings, even ones he hadn't known before, have popped out of the woodwork and some cousins too. finn looks out from them from afar, but he's not much of the loving type. protective if they deserve it, and cold otherwise.

HEADCANONS.

has an all black with dark green leather interior vintage dodge charger named morticia

among his many tattoos his body is riddled with scars both old and new, the worst being on his back from the times he was whipped with the buckle side of a belt

he has a hard time looking in the mirror long because he has his father's eyes and similar features

he hasn't had any sort of real relationship since before he went to prison.

finn prefers knives to guns, despite being a hell of a shot. he likes to drag out his encounters, even when it doesn't call for it.

more to come

[vampire-the-askerade]

vandal cleaver when the fledgling tells him they love him [:

[I know I have been saying this a lot, but I kinda went nuts with this. Nothing too intimate, at least traditionally, but I marked it as mature to do my due diligence of protecting the children and all that]

You can’t believe you were that stupid.

To be fair you didn’t mean to say it out loud, but nonetheless, you did. You had gone to the blood bank and saw your favorite ghoul there. “Hey, there’s my favorite customer. Too skittish to go hunting tonight? Or, did you just miss me that much?” Vandal mused when he saw you through his service window.

“I could always go somewhere else.” You shrugged and acted like you were about to leave.

“Aw, don’t be like that. You know you can’t get what I offer anywhere else. At least not easily.” He insisted, a smile crinkling the bottoms of his perpetually piercing eyes.

“Hm, I’m not sure.” You teased as you pretended to think.

“Oh, come on! I’ll even sweeten the deal for you. Got some new blood just this evening. I’ll let you dip into that and sell the old stuff to the next stiff that shambles in here.” He almost sang his offer to make it more tempting. Vandal reached into the cooler he kept under his desk, pulled a bag out, and sat it on his side of the counter. “We both know you need it.”

You shelled out the usual amount of cash for a bag and slid it under the hole in the window. Just before you could pull your hand back he grabbed it. You were about to question what he was doing when he placed your hand on top of the blood bag and slipped one of the $20s between them. It was faint, but you could almost swear that he brushed his thumb across yours as he was pulling his hand away.

“Regular’s discount. Go buy yourself something nice.” Vandal teased as he placed the money into the case that went to the Voermans at the end of the week. “That’s not going to get you in trouble is it?” You asked as you left the bill on the counter for now. “Hm? Oh, please! I know how not to come up short. I’ll just charge the next extra for the old stuff. I mean it. Go buy yourself something. Just think about what you could do with a nice set of pliers.”

There wasn’t any reason that you could think of for him to suggest pliers of all things, nor why he gave the suggestion so wistfully. It did cause you to give a short laugh and take the money back. “God, I love you!” You chuckled as you put the money into your wallet. When you looked up you saw that Vandal looked confused about something.

“Are you serious?” He asked in a tone that you couldn’t get a read on.

“Well, uh… y-yeah. I guess I am.” You admit sheepishly.

“Gross,” Vandal replied in a short monotone.

You never excused yourself faster from somewhere in your life or your unlife. He had already told you a while ago that he wasn’t interested in anyone at the moment, especially not a vampire after all the stuff the Voermans had put him through. But, it slipped out, and all you could do was confirm it after the fact. It was a good thing that you got this bag at a discount; that made it twenty dollars less painful that you could never show your face at the blood bank of Santa Monica again.

It has been about a week since then, and with the bag that you had and a rather uneventful week, you only had to go out once to feed. This was actually worse because all you had to do was to sit in your dingy, little apartment and think; mostly about what happened. Just when you were starting to think that would be your schedule for tonight as well, there was a firm knock, almost a pounding at your door.

There was no one that you could think of that knew where your haven was, or at least no one that would come there instead of sending you a message. So, you cautiously walked over to your door with plans to take them out if you had to.

Before you could open it, you heard the voice of a familiar and very pissed-off nurse. “Open the door, would you! I know you’re in there!”

Hesitantly, you did. Sure enough, Vandal’s face looked as angry as his voice sounded.

“Where the hell have you been?” He sneered as he pushed his way past you and into your apartment.

“Hey, you can’t-“

“Yes. I can.” Vandal cut in very pointedly. And, you knew that he was right.

If there was ever a ghoul that wasn’t afraid of vampires it would be Vandal Cleaver. Not to mention that he knew that if anything were ever to happen to him, Therese would raise hell. It wasn’t that the two of them were very fond of each other, but rather he was the only person she could get to run that little side business of hers in the hospital’s grave shift.

“Now, I’m not going anywhere until I get some goddamn answers. You can’t just say what you did then disappear for a week!” Vandal scolded like one would a teenager who just got back an hour later than curfew. “How am I supposed to take that, huh?”

“Well, how was I supposed to take what you said?” You snapped back. “I, admittedly accidentally, told you how I felt, and you said, ‘Gross.’ Why would I think you would want me to come back?”

Now Vandal seemed more annoyed than angry. “Oh, my god.” He groaned. “You’re so fucking sensitive!” While he was grumbling to himself, he opened your fridge and scoffed when he didn’t see anything in there. Closing the door, he walked over to you. “Look, you say you love me- right?” You huffed and looked away from him. “Don’t be like that. We both heard you say it.” He teased and squished your cheeks a few times before you swatted his hand away. “Well, if you know me well enough to love me, then you should know me well enough to know I just say shit sometimes. Not much of a filter there.”

When that explanation didn’t seem to cut it for you, Vandal switched tactics. “Besides, when have I ever been known to be squeamish when it comes to vile, new experiences?” He grabbed you and leaned you backward in his hold with a surprising amount of strength even for a ghoul, and hummed, “Like this, perhaps.”

The next thing you knew he was kissing you in the same manner that he did everything in his life: like a madman.

You were stunned for the first good bit of this, but that didn’t seem to deter him. And, once you did start to kiss him back, Vandal started to giggle uncontrollably into said kisses. Not long after you had started to return his affections, it seemed that his hold finally gave out, and the two of you tumbled onto the floor.

“Vandal!” You whined as he didn’t even stop to see if you were fine after cushioning both your falls.

“You’ll live.” He laughed as he gave another deep kiss followed by a quick peck before sitting up. He was still sitting on your hips, so you were pinned down as he reached down to grab the hem of his scrubs shirt and then pulled it over his head and toss it across the room. His body wasn’t that of a weight lifter, but it was what people would consider in shape, if not a bit skinny.

“Vandal, what are you-“

“Bite me.” He interrupted. You would have thought it was an insult were it not for the way he rasped it out.

“Are you sure?” You questioned. “I thought that you didn’t like being a part of all this sort of…vampire stuff.” Vandal let out a whine when you didn’t agree immediately. You propped yourself up on your elbows and continued, “And what about T-“

There was suddenly a hand over your mouth. “Do Not. Ruin. The Mood.” He warned darkly. This change went by in a flash and he was suddenly back to his simpering. “It’s different with you. I want you to do it. God, do I want you to do it. Just pick a spot a bite as hard as you can.” He sat you up and took your hands to run them all around his torso and back in an effort to help you find somewhere to sink your teeth in. “Bite me. We both know you need it. Please.”

It was that sad, little please that pushed you into action as well as fighting off the urge to completely snap. Though he had given you dealer’s choice, you noticed how his hands kept leading yours to the spot just above his second to last rib.

You could take a hint. And, though that might not be the best place to get a lot of blood, there was a bit of a give-and-take to the process. You ran your fingers over the spot as you debated what the best way to get to it was, causing Vandal to practically start vibrating as he eagerly waited for your response.

“Alright. Get up on the bed, and…”

Before you could even finish, he was lying on his side on your bed, arm stretched up and over his head to give you more room to work with. He must have been thinking of how to do this as well and come up with a similar solution to yours.

Moving so that you were kneeling by the bed, you poked and prodded at the area for a minute. Eventually, you pinned down an exact place where he would whimper, almost yelp every time you pressed on it. Usually, that would mean that you needed to find somewhere else, but Vandal was never a usual case.

Your lips brushed over the spot and his breathing quickened in anticipation. When you finally bit into his skin, he made a sound that would give your neighbors the wrong idea if he didn’t bite down on your pillow to muffle it.

Then again, the way that Vandal was biting and gripping onto your pillow as well as the pleasantly lightheaded warmth washing over the both of you, perhaps what your neighbors were thinking wasn’t too far from the actual truth.

“Taste…familiar?” Vandal managed to pant out once he was finally able to trust his mouth being free again.

“Hm?” You questioned without stopping your drinking.

“The… blood. My blood.” He swallowed thickly. “How I’ve been- ah- oh, it all been me! I’ve been… giving- You’ve mostly been... drinking from me~” his voice rose a pitch or two when you bit harder. “A little bit of me is- always with you now…” Vandal mumbled to himself as he was getting loopier by the second.

That was your cue that he was reaching his giving limit for the night, so you unlatched your teeth, careful to make sure your fangs were all the way out, and gave the abused, already bruising circle of punctured skin a final brush of your tongue. Vandal, though bleary at best, felt you starting to leave the spot, so his hand shot down from the pillow to grab your hair and push you back.

Even though ghouls were stronger than humans, they still weren’t as strong as kindred, especially after blood loss. So, you were able to remove his hand from your head rather easily. Once you had, you stood up, stepped over him, and stretched out beside him on the bed.

“Really?” Vandal managed to still sound sarcastic, even through his haze. However, it wasn’t lost on you that he shuffled right up next to you despite his tone.

You rested a hand on his side, fingers brushing against the teeth marks in his skin, causing him to hum contentedly. “Yeah, I need to stretch out my legs. My knees hurt.” That lead him to snicker like a twelve-year-old in health class.

“Oh, grow up!” You scold as you pinch a bit higher on his ribs.

The both of you just lied there, while you listened to the sound of his surprisingly calm breathing. Every once in a while your fingers would brush back over the spot, and his breath would hitch softly leading into a contented sigh, before his breathing would even out again. Then, something occurred to you that hadn’t before.

“Vandal?”

“Mmm-hmmm?”

“How did you know where I live?”

Vandal snuggled his back even more into you, pulled your hand up to place a kiss on each finger, and sing-songed, “I love you~” before breaking into a fit of drowsy, manic giggles.

[timaeusterrored]

(Honeymoon time???)

“Ker?” V’s voice echoed through the beach house, unable to find his new husband anywhere. He wandered about a bit longer before the porch door slid open, Kerry appeared smiling.

“Leaving me on our honeymoon? How dare you?” It was playful tease, and Kerry’s smile didn’t disappear as he apologized and kissed him. “Where were you?”

Kerry took his hand, leading him out into the warm night. “Remember when we were playing 20 questions? And you said your ideal date night was skinny dipping and a picnic?” V had been mostly joking about the skinny dipping part, not thinking Kerry would ever actually do it with him. To be fair he didn’t think they’d get this far into their relationship even when he thought he was as good as dead.

“…Yeah?” V questioned as they walked down the steps and onto the sand. Kerry didn’t elaborate further and kept leading him away from their house and towards a little cove of trees. “Well… close your eyes and trust me.”

“Do not push me into in ocean.”

“I would never. I’m not that mean. You’re the asshole that dropped me into the pool.” Then Kerry covered his eyes and kept leading him. He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading though. This had been some of the best moments of his life.

“Ready?” Kerry’s voice was close to his ear, feeling his warm breath against his bare neck. Vax was getting impatient, but was more excited than anything. He uncovered his eyes and V couldn’t stop a small laugh.

Lights had been hung from the trees, around a picnic of V’s favorite food and wine. And a bowl of cherries. He was utterly speechless, unsure of when Kerry had the time to do all this. He was nudged forward to sit down, Kerry still obviously waiting for his verbal approval.

“I think this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me…” He whispered, watching Kerry settle next to him. “Really, when did you have time to do this?”

“Baby you slept until like 2 today, I had all day to do this.” There was no accusation in his voice, no annoyance or anger. V was still trying to get his strength and health back and Kerry had been nothing but patient.

“Okay wait. I married not only a rock legend, but a man that can cook too?” He asked in disbelief. “What about Ariel?” Kerry grinned at him, that mischievous grin that V loved so much.

“I have many surprises, dear husband. One being if I didn’t cook, Johnny would have starved. We didn’t always have money for takeout and sometimes I just… wanted to cook. Takeout was easier sure, but Y’know. And Ariel is I didn’t feel like cooking nor did I want too. Needed something else to throw my money at so why not a cook?” He offered V the bowl of orange chicken and rice. “Any other questions?”

V almost didn’t hear him, both from the shock and delight of this being the best orange chicken he’s ever had. “Goddamn… what did you say?”

Kerry laughed, shaking his head. “I’m taking that as a compliment.” His gaze lingered on V for a moment before digging in.

V took the moment to look around, to take in the realization that he was married. Someone loved him enough to do all of this for him. The ocean gently crashing against shoreline and lulling V into a sense of calm.

After dinner and wine, and a fair amount of sensual Cherry feeding and quiet talking, Kerry stood. He took off his shirt and V found himself shamelessly staring up at him.

“Come on, we have one more thing for the night.” Kerry smiled at him, before it clicked.

Oh.

If this as was a dream, don’t wake V up.

Kerry helped him undress, not that he needed it. But he did get a kiss out of it so he would take it.

Kerry lead him to the ocean, the water clean and safe to swim in. The water washed over V’s feet, warm and perfect. This was all too good to be true. Kerry lead him deeper into the water, humming a soft song to elevate the mood.

“I would ask if I should feel special… but I feel really special.” He said softly when Kerry pulled him closer, relaxing into the warm water.

“You should, it’s not like we didn’t get married last week.” Kerry said softly, bumping their foreheads together.

V couldn’t help himself, pulling his husband in for a sweet kiss. He tasted of cherries and wine, sweet even. Kerry smiled, not pulling away.

“I love you.” V whispered, before he was pulled back in for another kiss.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Kerry whispered before pulling V under water.

[frostythefrostedfox]

Overanalysing Analysis

Me, sitting at the desk, suit and tie, glasses on: Ladies and gentlemen, today I regret to inform you that I have been overanalizing something that doesn’t needs to be analized to begin with, I completely lost about 3 hours of my life rewatching the same footage over and over, in very bad quality as well, so I could bring you content, not high quality content, quality is sold separatedly as DLC, just content. And that is: The brilliance of the only good parts of Cars 2, The race scenes.

So you better click out of this post right now else you’ll be reading the ramblings of a madman, don’t say I didn’t warned you.

Also, the less quality screenshots belong to the few footage of the Cars 2 DVD, that includes the deleted scenes of the movie.

First of all, the mockup SPEED Network titles and presentation, which resembles the official intro sequence of all FIA championship races, also the fact that they are using 3 official motorsport commentators.

They kept the logo on as the camera goes around as if this was the live feed from any race day. Normally this type of thing is done on the grid as these are the moments that preface the formation lap on any discipline, but I can see why they kept it inside the pits, else the pre-race chatter and the warmup wouldn’t be noticeable, also to cut production time, as pre-formation lap preparations tend to look like this

A bunch of equipment, umbrellas, engineers, media and overall clutter all behind the SC, considering that in Cars everyone is a car (duh, is in the name), this wouldn’ve been hell to fit in without making a random ass huge main straight, or making everyone be so awkwardly positioned on the grid.

Then we get the cars themselves

Francesco, obviously being a Formula 1 car, according to my guess (Source: trust me bro) being a hybrid between the F2004 and the F248 (2006 season), his swaying on the heating is minimal, slow reduced speed and pace on the out so the engine, electronics and brakes won’t overheat.

The GT cars (I actually have no idea who that is supposed to be), strong swaying and quick revving to keep the engine on the mark, as those cars, although specially fitted for racing, are still commercially available cars that you can buy, so keeping perfect temperatures and being “on the zone” at all times is not their main purpose unlike the LMP1, 2 and Formula cars

Next we have “Raoul ÇaRoule“, or, as I like to call him, offbrand Sebastien Loeb, because that’s totally who he is supposed to be, the french flag and the “rally champion” title give it off, considering he is still the one with the most titles in the WRC, which in the Cars universe is called the GRC but for just a name usage and some vague likeness, it just wasn’t worth the money, which is honestly an understandable choice; notice how his swaying is the most pronounced, and his rev periods are longer than anyone else’s, and that’s on point with rally cars, they are high torque high accleeration cars with a very open differential and a loose steering to allow for easy corrections and compensation without overdoing it, as they usually race on ice, dirt and other slippery surfaces that would make precise track-like steering a one way ticket into a tree.

A deleted shot, see the ammount of detail on that Vanquish GT.

Yes, that’s motherfucking Lewis Hamilton, portrayed as none other than a McLaren, as that’s the team he was racing for in 2011.

They even included a DMT/WTC car! And it seems to be a Mercedes CLK.

This shot is just beautiful, I’ll allow my suspension of disbelief to simply take the wheel here as those boxes are too close together and right next to each other, but who cares, the painted-over asphalt like the one in street circuits, the small “belly” at the bottom that McQueen’s tires get as his car-type is on the quite heavy side, the stiffness of Francesco’s tires with the toe in camber at the front wheels, the different tide width for each car, this show is just amazing.

A small shot that we get from McQueen’s POV, you can see the heat thing where it becomes blurry, you can see the details on that (obviously not licensed) LMP1 car with all the details on it, the classic Aston Martin GT body 3 places ahead of McQueen is also a lovely sight to see, with the high wing as they tend to have on GT Competitions.

The starting sequence is a pale where I can see that they put a lot of work and detail on, the rally car and the TOCA cars simply taking off as soon as the lights get green while the GT cars like the Corvette and the Aston Martin taking a bit longer, moving off the grid slower

But as soon as they move forward, they build speed insanely fast, also the huge detail of the Corvette’s bad start as he gets stuck on the first gear and can’t advance until a few seconds later, when he has the McLaren behind him already taking an overtaking line on the left. And don’t forget the AM’s diffusor almost touching the ground.

Another great shot, you can see all of their eyes looking to the left, where the distance to corner indicators are on, everybody looking for their insividual braking point, cars with slower speed but higher acceleration stay on the middle while high aero cars try to go for the inside like the LMP1 as it can brake faster than any other, or Francesco going for the outside so he can do the corner while braking the less, relying entirely on his aero.

Although out of focus, time to appreciate the detail of the back of Francesco, that’s some high detail modelling right there, you can see most of the components and how most of the car is actually empty underneath, you can even see how the suspension moves up and down as he goes thru the track, if I were to be picky the only thing he is missing is the recovery light at the bottom.

A million different lines all based on the specific car taking the turn, TOCA cars going for the inside at all cost so they can accelerate quicker, GT cars preferring a more open line to use the entire width of the track to be less aggressive on the tires as they weight a hell of a lot more.

Now the boxes are also a delight to see

“Gorvette” the GT Corvette gets an F150 (another Ford manufactured car) as its engineer.

A french car, the Citroën DS for the french offbrand Loeb.

A japanese car for the Japanese LMP1 car.

Francesco gets a 250GT Convertible, of course it is another Ferrari, lol

And you can see it on the back of the shot, the Spaniard racer gets a SEAT (possibly a SEAT Leon) as his engineer.

First of all, great lighting and great detail on the track; second, everyone but the rally car is racing on the wrong line, trying to take the path that is the straightest and with the least elevation changes, yet the rally one is the only one that takes the right one, the side with the most camber to help reduce the speed coming into the corner without having to touch too much of the brakes, an enviromental lift and coast if you must, and at the same time it takes advantage of his higher suspension rebound as he has less of a cahnce of bottoming out, unlike literally all the other cars.

OMG Is this Dirt 6?

That’s a pretty good shot right there, a classic “Left 4 DC Tightens, Right 4 Cut Opens”

Those red brakes, THOSE RED BRAKES, Beautiful.

Again, suspension of disbelief taking the wheel because that shot was amazing, but McQueen got the plot armor, do that big of a jump and see how you faceplant the dirt and roll over.

But at the same time, great how the other car is doing it the way it should be done, and even in the next shot you see how it has gained on McQueen by doing that.

The dirt on his body. The sense of speed of the scene. The way the sound echoes. I know this is “average japanese tunnel” but this whole sequence gives me “Monaco Tunnel section” vibes. If only this movie was as great as these shots

Another great backshot, nothing else to say.

Another deleted shot, this is what I meant by Monaco vibes, seeing his wheel so close to the wall and have the sound reflect that by echoing even louder is just great.

Absolute classic TV coverage angle, simply great.

Turn 13 Singapore my beloved, the section is longer than it is IRL and for obvious licensing issues it doesn’t has the metal arch that oversees the straight between 11 and 12, but it even has the small kink right that is turn 12 into the hairpin of Turn 13 just like in the real track

Even on a movie, Lewis is an asshole, brake-switching lanes and not allowing anyone to race on his side of the track, very IC representation of him (and this was in 2011 mind you, even before we saw more his.. interesting... interpretation of the F1 rules, was this some next level foreshadowing?)

Singapore Sling my beloved, I miss you (actually I don’t, I hope you never come back).

Notice how McQueen doesn’t even blinks until he is out of the section, and how every driver that comes moves their eyes from apex to apex

More Sling pics with moving eyes, I love it, also, look at the tyre marks, so beautiful, also that Vanquish nose, so beautiful x2, and lets not forget Loeb in the back doing the most open turns known to man (car?) so he doesn’t has to press the brakes and can just high-rev the entire section like in RXC.

Look at the muddy teardrop, look at the exhaust gas, look at the everything. I’ll never have enough of these low angle sideshots in any Cars movie. Also, mandatory Wangan mention.

You guys really pushing the suspension of disbelief here lol, no way in hell that a NASCAR (insert laugh emoji) car is able to hold back and gain from two prototype racers and and F1 car. Although Francesco is really pushing forward in that shot, but still.

But.

I don’t care, still a great shot, nice to see how much depth and detail is actually there.

He readies it and...

Amazing, as it should be, right on the tail, getting all the reduced drag possible before pushing out into clean air and passing the car like its standing.

Forget what I said earlier, no I am not going all the way up to correct it, if you made it all the way down here you can just pretend that I did, he has the recovery light, and is so pretty, the wing is so on spot, everything really, look at the dirst from earlier, how it splashes back, look at the closeness to the ground, everything is there, absolutely everything.

It’s such a shame that we really only have 1 full race, and the racen is constantly being cut out by some decaf 007 bs that nobody actually cared about; the whole plot of “multinational racing event that is just a big conspiration” was great as it was, because the sport has had lots and lots of those, just the name “Briatore” should be enough to make like 3 movies out of that, and that’s leaving out the lesser known but equally interesting scandals like Multi 21, and the sport defining moments like Jules’ incident (RIP), both the FIA and the FIM have enough drama by themselves to make a movie with this plot interesting enough with just that, racing, cars doing car things like the first movie (Even tho the first one is based off the year-round april’s fools joke known as NASCAR), zero need for Mater to be turnt into a James Bond LARPer

[redshaebaby]

“One people, one nation.”

When Domir fell, nothin’ was left. Homes were abandoned, markets were scrapped by scavengers from the outskirts. The cold took back over for a while. Like she threw a tantrum - revenge for what Domir had done to ‘er. Anyone who survived the blasts and the chaos didn’t make it out of the cold. They tried - for a while. Until they couldn’t.

The scrappers made makeshift homes out of old cars and frozen over tanks. It made most sense to have a home you could move, so you could avoid the blasts. They learned to read the snow, the wind. They learned it and they taught their kin.

That’s how we survived for these years. Moving place to place, callin’ nowhere home. If we called someplace a home, it made it hurt that much more when another scrapper looted and burned it to stay warm or when the cold froze it over.

My kin are hard fought. They made the mistake of naming homes, several times over. They froze over, they burned what was theirs to stay warm. We learned to not get too attached to much. That was how they lived - how WE lived. Day by day, it wears a person down.

“Only so many times you can see a home burned.”

Cal told us that. Ain’t not one of us forgotten it. Not one of us have forgotten him either. I’ll make sure it stays that way.

Cal had enough, and we had too. We fought back. This time, we didn’t fight the cold, though. We used it. We learned it, right? We knew how she’d treat us. She always wins, every time. Everyone ought to learn that lesson at some point in their life.

The scrappers went first, always. Either they were good folk just tryin’ to feed their kin - in which case we took ‘em in and kept ‘em safe. Or.. they were the other kind of folk. Just scroungin’. Lootin’ and sendin’ it back for money or to make weapons to loot bigger cities. We dealt with them the only way we could.

When Cal died, we had nothin’ left. Our home was burned once more. It started all over again. If a person doesn’t have a home to fight for, the fight leaves ‘em.

“Only so many times you can see a home burned.”

Enough, he said. I remember it. The fire that burned in his eyes never dulled, even when he lay dyin’. We got up and fought for our home.

We carved out a piece of land for us and kept one another safe, built walls from scrap and made homes for our kin. The wind liked this, and he must’ve started talkin’ to the cold because she settled down too. The land seemed to thank us in a way. God knows why.

It wasn’t all good, though. Less wind and cold meant more scrappers, and more fighting. I got plenty of stories about those times, but now ain’t the time for them. Let’s just say my bunch learned their way around a battle and are all the better for it.

Now, the cold and the Redshae are keen on each other. Any who’ve tried to push the coldest point this side of the cliffs always run into the wall of wind and bitter cold that sends ‘em tuckin’ tail. Us, we like it. It made us who we are.

Up here in Calium, the snow has even given way some. A little green come forth every once in a while just to show us some love. We learn not to care either way, the cold can be unpredictable and can throw fits.

For now, I’ll enjoy my green when I get it and thank the cold that I’m around to feel her wrath. My people will too.

There’s rumor of war on the western front. I don’t know what to make of it quite yet. We’re getting’ fat and happy, and my people are itchin’ to roam. I feel a change comin’ to the Redshae.

I feel it comin’ fast.

[storyunrelated]

Subtlety is for the birds, and the birds are all dead.

Yes, Sir!! @flashfictionfridayofficial

-

Borne aloft on their luxuriant sedan chair, the Executive frantically and reflexively scrolled through their feeds, desperate to see if anyone had said anything mean about them on the internet and also just in case some new fad had dropped that they needed to get onto immediately.

So far nothing, but things moved so fast these days. You never knew.

All about them, workers worked. Well, ‘worked’. It might have looked a bit like work in the old-fashioned sense, with all of them grunting and sweating and digging, but in the new sense – the legally binding sense – it didn’t count as work now. The work was done by the machines, tirelessly, cheaply. The people were just there to clean up the mistakes.

And that wasn’t work. Legally speaking.

One of the workers caught the eye of the Executive. Who could say why? With a tap on the armrest the Executive brought the luxuriant sedan chair to a halt.

“You!” They shouted, pointing. Heads whipped up, and the one worker who the Executive was pointing at pointed at themselves, to double-check. The Executive nodded. “Yes you. Dig your own grave.”

“Yes Sir!” The worker said, brightly eager, snapping off a quick salute before quickly turning their spade – which had been being used to scoop up the mistakes of the machines – to the task of digging a grave. The Executive watched. Everyone else got back to work.

The ground was not really suitable for digging, the years of blazing sunshine having baked it more-or-less rock solid, but that hardly mattered. The worker dug regardless, dug until their hands bled even more than they had been to start with. The Executive kept watching, arousal building at the sight of such pointless exertion. Knowing it was pointless was what really set the whole thing off for them, really. The power to inflict pointlessness. It never got old.

Eventually, with a small depression scooped out, the worker collapsed out of exhaustion, unable to go any further, arms limp. They slithered into the shallow grave, gulping down air. The Executive nodded their approval and got back to scrolling.

“Bury that, would you?” They said to no-one in particular, and droves rushed to do as they’d been told, burying their colleague alive in the dust as the Executive was carried onwards, eagle-eyed for criticism or the latest thing to spend money on.

The wind changed direction briefly and the distant, warm hum of the machines rolled over them for a moment. They were doing their job, too. Whatever that might have been. The mistake pipes shuddered and more mistakes were splattered out across to be cleaned up. The Executive sighed happily, shifting about in their slightly damp underpants.

What a time to be alive, they felt. A golden age.

[dangerouslyclassyhottub]

Excerpt from “Whoops”

I really enjoyed imagining what life would be like for Tarantulas on a G1 earth while spying for the Decepticon’s and I got inspired by tiktoks of jumping spiders to write a little chapter about him and Daniel Witwicky. According to TFWiki, Daniel doesn’t have any human friends and I thought about how difficult his life must have been at school and how he probably was that strange kid who played by himself. My heart ached a little for this kid so I wanted to share this chapter by itself. I won’t link the fic because (WARNING lol) it’s nsfw, but this excerpt isn’t. Mild Warning for spiders.

A boy and his spider.

Being a spider smaller than a work boot was often terrifying. But it was also the best way to gather intelligence, so Tarantulas put up with almost being stomped to death on a near weekly basis.

That was until he was captured by the human boy, Daniel.

"Can I keep him dad!" The boy had shouted, almost shaking Tarantulas in the tupperware container he had managed to trap him in.

The boy’s father looked at him with amused concern, "Why do you want a spider for a pet?"

"'Cause no one else has one! He got eight legs and he's super fuzzy, he’s cool! Please, please, please dad!" The boy begged.

"Fine, but you gotta take care of him yourself. Find out what kind of spider he is and what he eats."

"Yesss!" The boy sprinted off gleefully. 

Tarantulas was not entirely sure about his new living situation, being kept in a terrarium in a dark corner in the boy’s room. It did make his life so much easier now, as when he was caught snooping in a room instead of being met with a broom or a shoe whatever organic had spotted him would call Daniel to come collect him. To which the boy did so diligently, crying about how much he had missed him or that he would have to get a heavier rock to put on top of his home. And as humiliating as it was to be fed organic roaches, he played his part in the feeding ritual if it meant keeping his cover as an innocuous pet. Although he did have to admit that when the time came that Daniel wanted to hold him it wasn’t entirely an unpleasant experience. For being such a boisterous organic he did have a gentle charm that nudged at the spark.

“You’re my only friend.” The boy would often say, especially when sitting at his desk doing homework, “Other kids just don’t get me.”

In a strange way, Tarantulas wished he could comfort Daniel. The boy did so much for him, he wished he could return the favor.

But he had work to do.

No matter how much information he gathered for Megatron it would be for nothing if he didn’t find what he was looking for. So he watched and he waited. Painfully so as the Autobots were very dull. In recent weeks they had gone into a tizzy however, after finding out about Starscream’s impending progeny. Tarantulas could have rolled all eight of his optics but he did have to admit that at least it was something to gossip about. Juicy gossip loosened other things from the derma too. Many bots began talking about the possibility of having their own sparklings but all of them came to the same realization eventually. That war was no place for a child…

Tarantulas began returning to his terrarium nightly to be there when Daniel woke up.

*

He skittered across the ark’s hallways, following his target with obsessive focus. He had been at this for years now with no end to his mission in sight. He was exhausted. If anyone would have the information he was looking for he would put his money on this bot.

So he stalked Ratchet into the medbay, carefully slipping past the automatic doors just behind the medic. He’d been caught in here twice already and was lucky that Daniel had reported him missing each time or else he might have been squashed. Ratchet was as observant as he was overworked so Tarantulas doubted the mech wouldn’t realize eventually that he was coming here on purpose. So he needed to be much more careful.

He hid behind the feet of the mediberths, blocking line of sight and only daring to move while the mech himself moved, in fear that the old bot’s audials could pick up the soft patter of his legs across the metal floors. Ratchet retreated to his office, a datapad in hand and a cup of energon in the other. Tarantulas felt his tanks churn a little. 

He stole energon occasionally but he couldn’t afford to do so all the time in case someone noticed the shortage. Tarantulas felt himself taking steps towards the office unconsciously. The opening of the medbay doors had him retreating back to his dark corner instantly, curling all of his legs into himself.

“Ah, Prowl, what is it this time?” Ratchet said without getting up from his seat.

Tarantulas narrowed his optics at the black and white bot.

“Ratchet, I want to ask you something, something I’ve suspected for a while.”

He took special note of the disappointment on the medic’s face.

“My answer isn’t going to make you any happier.”

Tarantulas wondered if this had anything to do with the Wheeljack character that had run off a few days ago. He hadn’t been on the ark at the time, having been delivering a report to Megatron, but he had received orders to find out what had happened to make him defect. It had been pretty hush-hush with the higher ups, with a lot of the other bots spitting out rumors. Tarantulas knew that was all they were though, nothing of substance he could give to Megatron.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Prowl asked, his voice sounding almost hurt, “You knew about Wheeljack and Starscream.”

Tarantulas felt his venting pause. 

“I did. I found out only days before you did.”

“You harbored a traitor.”

Ratchet stood up and Prowl took a step back, “I helped a friend who was hurting. A friend who just wanted to be able to see his sparkling.”

“Starscream—,”

“Was certainly a choice,” Ratchet cut him off, “But Wheeljack was no traitor. You know nothing about what he’s going through Prowl. If I were you I would worry about keeping this quiet rather than pointing your digits at me.”

Prowl swayed in his spot, his optics never leaving Ratchet’s, “You don’t know a thing about me.” Before walking away.

Ratchet sat back down in his seat, his helm resting in his hands. 

Tarantulas retreated back to his terrarium, somehow knowing he would not be getting his answers tonight. He did, however, get something he could bring back to Megatron when he got a chance. He stood on the rock still on his glass home for some time as he pondered his choices, when he heard the door to the room open. He turned and gave the human his attention as the boy dove onto his human-berth, his schoolbag flopping onto the floor.

Curious, he crawled his way over and up to Daniel’s eye level. The boy noticed him then, his eyes filled with water and his normally smushy face was swollen on the side and was turning a dark color.

“Hey dude, what are you doing out?” The boy sniffed, looking at him over his crossed arms, “You sure are a strange one, I dunno how you keep getting out.”

Tarantulas approached and touched his arms gently with his front legs, tapping him.

“Oh this,” The boy pointed at his eye, “Gift from some kids at school. Don’t worry, I got him pretty good too.”

Tarantulas felt his spark ache for the boy. He’d been complaining about bullies for some time now. Daniel put his hand down for him and he graciously crawled onto it.

“They don’t like me ‘cause I’m strange too,” Daniel said, looking far off, “So you and me aren’t so different. We’re just… Misunderstood, y’know? That’s why I like you so much.”

Tarantulas wished more than ever that he could speak to the boy.

*

He snuck out just after Daniel had gone off to school, relishing in the fresh air as he made his way to his usual meeting spot. Ravage was already there when he arrived.

“Report.” The feline-operative wasted no time getting to the point, “What is the status of the one they call ‘Wheeljack’ among the Autobots?”

Tarantulas felt a pause tugging at his spark, “Nothing much to report. He defected. Not many bots know why, the higher ups are keeping it close to the spark right now. The medic knows more, I’m positive about it.”

“Lord Megatron will want to speak to you about the details, he is anxious for your return.”

“I cannot leave just yet.” He thought of Daniel and how much he cried when he returned after several days being missing. The boy didn’t need that right now, “Uh, I know I’m close to finding out more, and the Autobots may be planning to move raw energon off-planet.” He lied.

Ravage inclined his head at him, “That would be a great opportunity for us. I shall inform Lord Megatron but Tarantulas,” His red optics darkened, “Don’t go getting too comfortable here.”

He left Tarantulas with his thoughts after that.

[thescarletfang]

Maybe? Yes.

This is just pure, soft FLUFF. This takes place in the Downward Facing Din universe, but much earlier than that little drabble. IDK, am I slowly creating a little universe? Maybe? I’m too scared to commit to a multi-chapter fic, so this is where we are. Also, this story and this little world I’m trying to create will definitely be a *cue kacey musgraves voice* slow buuuuurrrrnnnnnn.

Summary: Trust begins to bloom between you and your new employer - a stoic, polite Mandalorian with a tiny green son. Din DjarinxF!Reader

Post TBOBF but in this world the Razor Crest lives!!

Wordcount: ~3k

Warnings: NONE, though all of my work is 18+ and minors should go bye-bye.

* * * 

He doesn’t speak to you the entire first week that you’re on the Razor Crest.

You wrack your brain, desperately trying to think if you could’ve possibly offended him. You’re ashamed to admit that you’re woefully ignorant in the way of the Mandalorian, but you recall Karga briefing you about a creed. You struggle to remember the details - in truth, your brain was buzzing with excitement and fear, and you’d barely sat still the entire time Karga tried to explain this Mandalorian stranger to you. 

You know the basics: he rarely takes off his helmet - as far as you know, he never does, but you remember Karga saying he’d taken it off for the child - Grogu. You can recall Karga explaining the Mandalorian is part of a clan of two, that he is no longer recognized as a member of his previous clan, and that the cold material of his armor is called beskar. 

But other than that?

You do not know your new employer.

You think maybe he’s giving you space and you decide you haven’t offended him. He doesn’t ignore you - he just, kind of…keeps to himself? He will nod at you in the morning, and he did show you where his medpack is kept and he gave you a little spiel about the kid and what he likes to eat - but that’s it. 

You do not know this Mando, but you’re determined to do right by him. You remind yourself that if he hadn’t wanted you to come along, he would’ve told Karga as much. But according to Marshal Dune and Karga, this Mandalorian - Mando - is basically a single father and in desperate need of an extra set of hands. And since your hands happen to be ones that are excellent at healing and also shooting a blaster, they’d volunteered you for the job.

Honestly? It’s a decent gig, though you’re just a week in. The main appeal being that you’re able to finally get the hell off of Nevarro.  As a person with not much money or connections or - well, anyone really - you just figured your entire life would be spent healing on Nevarro. But this opportunity? This provides some sort of adventure. Some sort of path that you otherwise never thought you’d be able to take. 

It’s alluring. It’s exciting. It’s a little scary.

Which is exactly why you had jumped at the chance. 

It also doesn’t hurt that Grogu is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life. You were a goner the second Karga introduced you to Mando and his tiny green son. With his giant, black orbs for eyes and tiny little mouth and grabby hands and those ears - Maker! You never really saw the appeal of having children - logistically, it just didn’t make sense, just another mouth to feed - but Grogu?

Yeah, you can see why people have kids now. 

So taking care of this tiny green baby while Mando goes to secure bounties as well as being on deck for any injuries that may occur? It’s not a bad deal. You’ve agreed to a full standard cycle in Mando’s employment. 368 days of planet hopping and seeing places you never thought you’d see. And after that? Who knows. You hoped to have enough credits to maybe open your own practice on a quiet little planet somewhere far from trouble. Live out the rest of your days healing and getting by, quietly. 

That sounded like a good dream. An attainable dream. A little lonely, yes, but being alone is nothing new to you. You can do lonely. You have never expected anything else. 

You’re alone in the cosmos but you’re free and you’re making your own way and you think, maybe, that will just have to be enough. 

* * * 

The market is bustling and you’re grateful. In the month you’ve been with Mando and Grogu, you’ve grown to love the Razor Crest. Traveling on the old spaceship has its wonders’ - you feel like a true vagabond and it’s quite exciting. But it’s always nice to stretch your legs and breathe fresh air that’s mingled with sweet spices and sizzling street food, and you realize you needed this.

You follow behind Mando, walking with Grogu secured to your chest in his carrying pouch, and absentmindedly hold his little fingers as you take in everything around you. You know your eyes are probably as huge as saucers, but you can’t help it. This market place is much bigger than any that existed on Nevarro and you’re smelling and seeing and hearing things that are all new new new and it’s wonderful. 

Mando had announced the pit-stop to replenish ship supplies, which you know is necessary. You’ve already re-filled your medpack with bacta spray and patches and suture threads  and everything you could need.  But as you pass a stall with an assortment of exotic vegetables, you pause. An idea has been brewing in your mind since Mando said you’d be coming to this market place, and you reach into your pants pocket, fingering the small satchel of credits. 

You know how to be thrifty. You know you don’t need to spend credits on food - there are plenty of ration bars on the ship - but if you’re being honest? You can’t take another meal like that. You know it’s superfluous, but you miss cooking. You miss preparing a meal, the feel of the vegetables beneath your fingertips as you slice, the smell of the spices wafting into your nostrils and the satisfaction from eating something you created. 

So, you pause at the stand. In your periphery, you see Mando immediately notice that you’re no longer walking. Nothing gets past him and it should scare you a little (maybe it does) but he has started talking to you a little more in the month you’ve been with him. He’s intimidating, of course, and stoic and big, but he’s very polite, this Mandalorian man. He gives you privacy and never makes you feel uncomfortable and there’s a base level of trust. You see the way he cares for Grogu, you see his love for his son. And that creates trust in you. 

Mando says your name, and it’s got the hint of a question. You glance at him and he’s stopped, his helmet facing you, waiting for an explanation. 

You swallow. Okay, he can still be terrifying as hell, quite honestly.

“I thought – I thought I could get some things and cook for us tonight,” you say, grateful your voice is steady but cursing how timid it sounds. You don’t want to offend him which is absurd since you’re offering to literally prepare the man supper, but you don’t know so much about him. You’re still careful. You have to be. 

Mando is silent. Of course he is. Grogu makes a little gurgling noise and reaches for a bright purple, prickly looking vegetable and you take a step back so he doesn’t snatch it without paying for it. 

Mando’s silence makes you panic. Shit. Maybe it’s against his culture to have someone cook for him? You don’t know and that’s what is causing you to feel like an idiot and you can feel an anxiety spiral coming in –

But then Mando nods. It’s just one nod, barely a motion at all, but you see it. He nods at you and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. 

You turn back to the vendor and you ignore the feel of Mando’s stare on the back of your head as you pick out a vibrant assortment of different vegetables native to the planet you’re currently on. Grogu certainly seems excited as you let him hold a long, orange root vegetable and he waves it around like a little vibroblade. 

When your credit pouch is noticeably lighter and your carrying sack is much heavier - filled to the brim - you turn back to Mando who has just been…standing there. Staring. This entire time. 

Maker, this man. If it was anyone else you’d be creeped out but you’ve been living with him for a month and you’re aware that this is just how he is. You trust Marshal Dune and Karga’s judgement - they wouldn’t have sent you with someone who would hurt you. 

Right?

You fall in step beside him. You try to keep up with his long strides, but now that you’re carrying your vegetable bounty along with Grogu, you’re a little slowed down. Mando notices - because of course he does - and you feel your face heat. 

But he doesn’t snap at you, only takes hold of your vegetable bounty, gently pulling it out of your hands and slinging it over his shoulder. You sputter.

“Oh - you don’t have to–”

He grunts and you purse your lips. You need a Mando-noise translator. Grogu coos and holds onto your finger. Mando’s helmet tilts toward the noise, like it’s instinctual, and you think he’s watching his son play with your fingers, but you can’t be sure.

He doesn’t look at you when he says, “I need to refill my blaster power packs. The shop is on the other side of the market - are you - are you okay if I leave and go there?”

You try to keep your eyes from widening but since he’s not looking at you it doesn’t matter. Is he really asking your permission? But then you realize no - he’s not. He’s just making sure you’re okay to be left alone in an unfamiliar market. You feel gratitude bubble in your chest. 

You’re safe. You’re safe with this man and his son. It’s okay.

You nod. “Yeah, of course!” Then, a thought. “I actually wanted to grab some spices anyway. For our meal. So–so, I can do that, while you go refill your power packs.”

You’re talking too much. Right? You must be. Mando tilts his helmet at you and doesn’t say anything but just nods. You think that’s it - and you prepare for him to leave but he reaches out a hand to Grogu and tilts his little green chin up. Grogu squeals happily.

“Mind your manners,” he tells the tot, affectionately rubbing his thumb against Grogu’s cheek and Grogu smiles all toothily. It’s horrifically cute. You can’t help your smile. 

Mando’s helmet tilts back up to you but you can’t know if he’s actually looking at you or not - you think he is? He clears his throat, the raspy sound coming through his modulator and then he turns, a hulking presence parting the seas of bodies, turning heads in his wake. 

You look down at Grogu, jiggling him a little. “Wanna help me pick out spices?”

“Patu!!” Grogu squeaks and you laugh. 

* * * 

The suns of this planet are hot and the back of your neck is surely getting burnt, but you can’t find it in you to care. You’re bent over the most beautiful selection of spices you’ve ever seen. This market puts Nevarro’s measly little assortment of stalls to shame. 

You know you’re a prime target for upselling - the stall’s vendor has already tried to sell you the most expensive spices three times - but you hold your ground. You purchase only what you need for tonight’s vegetable stew, and happily hand over the credits. You smirk a little to yourself as the vendor purses their lips, clearly annoyed they didn’t manage to finagle more out of you. 

Grogu might like the spices more than you. His little nostrils flare rapidly, his eyes wider than you’ve ever seen them as you let him hold the roughspun sack which holds your spices. You move away from the stall and crane your neck to peek around the crowds. No Mandalorian as far as you can see. The sun is starting to shift, heading toward its descent, and the crowds of shoppers have thinned a bit. 

You spot a sweets stall and look down at Grogu. He shoots you a look that seems to say, Lady, you know you want to. You roll your eyes and pat the top of his head. 

“Alright, alright. Just don’t tell your dad, okay?” Grogu squeals, waving his arms around excitedly as you walk over to the stall, ordering three little blue cookie-looking things. 

Before you can even finish paying for them, Grogu reaches his hands out and his eyes narrow and suddenly the cookies fly out of the vendor’s hands and into Grogu’s. He immediately bites into the treat, obviously pleased with himself. You smile apologetically at the vendor who is looking a little too curiously at Grogu.

“Thank you,” you quickly say, shoving the credits into his hand and moving away from the stall. You frown down at Grogu. “I feel like that wasn’t very smart, kid.”

He just babbles happily, munching on his snack. You meander over to a little bench, your back suddenly aching and your feet sore. The sun and the heat have you feeling a little tired. You look around but you still don’t see Mando anywhere at the moment. You close your eyes, head leaning back a little to feel the sun’s rays stretch over your face, warming you from the inside. Grogu’s breathing is steady, his little fingers still hooked into your own, and you smile, a feeling of peace coming over you.

When you open your eyes again and Mando is standing right in front of you, you nearly scream. 

“Maker!” you gasp, and Mando’s shoulders tense. “You–how–you’re so quiet!”

If a beskar helmet could look abashed, you think that’s what Mando would look like right now. 

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” he offers as you stand up, your heart beating rapidly. “You looked at peace.”

You try to school your features into a look that is casual, but honestly you’re taken aback by Mando’s statement. Then you notice the bedroll he’s holding by a strap and frown.  He notices your eyeline and shifts on his feet as if he’s…nervous?

He clears his throat. Holds out the bedroll. 

“Uh–this is for you,” he says and he sounds unsure of himself, unsure of how you’re going to react. “I noticed the one you sleep on is…rough.”

Well now you simply can’t help the way you gape at Mando. It’s so much to process. First, he noticed the state of your old bedroll (something you didn’t even give a second thought since it’s the one you’ve slept on forever, even back in your run-down room on Nevarro) and secondly, he replaced it for you. 

You immediately scramble to get your pouch of credits but Mando grunts, waving your outstretched hand away. He continues to hold out the bedroll and you take it. 

“Let me pay you back–” you say and he shakes his helmeted head. 

“You’re good with the kid. I–he’s happy you’re here.” It’s all he offers to you and your chest burns with gratitude. You feel your entire face light up, your smile reaching your ears and for a moment you’re horrified that you’re going to start crying and that would just be mortifying–

Grogu gurgles and it grounds you. You swallow, gripping the bedroll in your hand delicately but tightly, as if it’s a rare treasure. In a way? It is.

“Thank you,” you tell him. You mean it. 

Thank you for being kind. Thank you for taking me across the universe. Thank you for giving me this adventure.

He nods, silent and stoic as ever, but you notice a lightness in his shoulders that wasn’t there before as you make your way back to the ship. 

* * * 

Mando makes a fire outside where he’s docked the Razor Crest in a clearing far-off from town, in a wooded area that’s both isolated but comforting. He takes Grogu without question, walking with him into the ship to replenish the stock of supplies he’d gathered in town and you set about preparing your meal.

At first it’s a challenge to find a pot to place over the fire but after you manage to scrounge one out of the small, hardly-a-galley galley, you find your groove. Maker, you’ve missed this! It’s meditative, cooking over an open fire, the sunset casting pink and purple hues all around you, the glow of the dying suns warming you enough to keep the light breeze of night at bay.

You realize as you let the simple stew simmer that you’re happy. The realization comes at you quickly and you’re a little taken aback by it. You are not one for sentiment when it comes to your own life. You have never taken a moment in all of your years to even think about whether you were happy or not. Happiness was a luxury for those who could afford it - those of higher status, those who didn’t have to worry where their next meal would come from or those raised in families full of care and love.

You’ve been alone your entire life. You’ve never needed to ask yourself whether you were happy or not. It simply didn’t matter.

But as you hand Mando a bowl of stew, your hand brushing his own gloved one as he takes it from you with a quiet mutter of thanks, you think, okay - maybe.

As you sit Grogu on your lap, feeding him spoonfuls of the stew with the orchestra of crackling fire and buzzing insects in the background, the moonlight bright, you think - maybe. 

As you glance up at the Mandalorian who sits across from you, watching as he lifts his helmet just slightly up in order to take sips of stew, the shock of seeing his stubble and sharp jaw striking you directly in the chest, the fact that he’s even sitting out here with you and didn’t take his meal in the ship, that he trusts you enough to lift up his helmet (not remove it no, that’s a privilege you know you may never earn and that’s okay), but to still lift that beautiful helmet up and share a meal with you? As his son snuggles against your chest and you find fear has no place in your heart at this moment?

You think, yes. 

Yes, you are happy.