#sorry I just needed to let some of it out to possibly help see it better

[giuliettagaltieri]

Oliver Twist

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Chapter Synopsis: In which Charles Leclerc becomes a sugarbaby.

Warning: Aftermath of unprotected sex and innuendos

Word Count: 4647

Chapter: 3

Sunday mornings are supposed to be calm.  For people to wake up peacefully and go about their day slowly, it is for having hearty breakfast and whispered conversations about the most mundane of stuff.

But here you were, with a possible corpse right in front of you.

In instinct from all the training you got from your job, you carefully assess the look of his neck.  Unusually thick but it doesn’t look broken, still, you wouldn’t want to risk moving him.  Instead you pat his shoulders firmly to check for responsiveness.

“Hey, hey!  Are you okay?”

There’s no response and you whimper, you were just placing two fingers on his carotid when he groaned and the relief that washed over you was immense, you wanted to hug him just for breathing.

He twists and lies on his back instead and you hug the duvet closer to your body as you look over him.  The man grimaces and looks alarmed when he sees you.  It was a bit funny if the situation was different.  He looked so disoriented and scared, all the while looking incredibly sexy covered in red lipstick stains.

“Hey...uhm…I’m sorry for being dramatic.  Are you okay?”  You ask sheepishly and you let out a sigh of relief when he nods.  “Does anything hurt?”

The man struggles to get up to a sitting position and you hesitantly help him up.  “Yeah…my head.  But it could be just the hangover.”

If this isn’t a serious situation, you would have swooned at his thick accent.

“Shoot.”  You bite your swollen bottom lip in worry.  His eyes follow your movements and his eyes don’t miss the marks he undoubtedly left on your neck and shoulders.  He watches as you leave to search for something and return with your phone and turn on the flashlight

“What are you doing?”  He asks as you lift it to his face, his eyes squinting immediately.

“Oh, sorry.  I just need to check your pupillary reflex.”  You say with your cheeks flushing and he lets you.  God, he really has the prettiest eyes you have ever seen in your entire life.

“How are they?”  He asks as he blinks.

Still pretty.  “They’re brisk and equal to size and shape, which is good…uhm…let’s go to the hospital just in case.”  You say gently to him as you turn off your flashlight.

He considers it for a moment.  “How discrete are your hospitals here?”

Your eyes narrow suspiciously.  “Why?  You’re not some criminal on the run, are you?”

This somehow makes him chuckle before wincing and clutching his forehead.  “Not really.”

“There’s only one hospital here.  I work there as a nurse and we’re very strict on the records.  Plus our town isn’t big on social media, or phones in general if you’re worried about that.  Most of the population here are uhm…a bit old school.”  You try to explain and he nods.  “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Charles.”  He smiles charmingly, showing off his dimples.

“Nice to meet you…get dressed.  I will too.”  You say stiffly, still not knowing what to make of the situation and trying not to melt in front of this gorgeous, gorgeous man.  “Hurry okay?”

When he nods, you immediately scurry to your walk-in closet, dragging the duvet like some makeshift gown and when you get out with fresh clothes held tightly in one arm, you both stare at each other, his hand pausing while reaching for his shirt atop your vanity.  You awkwardly smile and he does too, you step to the side and again you laugh awkwardly before running off to the bathroom.  You are absolutely freaking out in there.

Once you’re in the safety of the bathroom, you scream soundlessly, clutching the duvet until your knuckles turn white.  You can’t believe you slept with someone!  And what are the odds that you’d do it with probably the most attractive man you have laid eyes upon.  But what are you doing!  You’re in an emergency here.  Traumatic Brain Injuries are not something to be taken lightly.

But as soon as you drop the duvet, you cannot help the shrill scream this time.  You look like you were mauled by a bear!

A knock on the door startles you and you immediately run behind the shower curtain.

“You good in there?”  His voice is muffled behind the door but you do hear the concern.

“All good, sorry!”  You try to forget the insane amount of purples and reds on your shoulders and breasts.  You quickly pee and pray you don’t get UTI because from the looks of your position earlier, you looked like you were knocked out after your deed, with no chance to have gone to the bathroom after.  You hurriedly grab a towel and wet it under the tap to wipe on the copious mess he left between your thighs.

Despite how cute he is when he smiled, you’d kill him if you hadn’t already tried earlier.

Hastily you slip on your bra and panty which you quickly lined with a pad and put on the first sundress you saw from your closet.  You splash your face with water and you hurry out of the bathroom.  He stands just outside the door and asks if he can use it.  Of course you let him, the poor guy still has lipstick stains all over his face.  While he’s in the bathroom, you went to your room to collect your stuff.

When you came back with your bag, he also stepped out of the bathroom.   He notices that you wrapped a light summer scarf around your neck now.

“Ready?”  You ask and he nods.

You lead him out and into the parking space.  You didn’t see how his bottom lip juts out as both his eyebrows raise, taking a liking to your car.

He didn’t feel quite comfortable about sitting on the passenger side but he doesn’t say anything about it when you head over to the driver’s seat.  His masculinity is not fragile, he can let a woman take the wheel once in a while.  He does fasten his seatbelt as soon as he sits down though.

You glance at his cap to make light conversation as you start the car.  “Are you a Ferrari fan?”

Unexpectedly you hear a sigh from him.  “I don’t think so anymore.”

“Oh.”  You say softly as you get into the highway, feeling the need to apologize for suddenly ruining his mood, even though you have absolutely zero idea why.  And he sees it, now feeling like kicking himself for making you feel bad.

“You should’ve asked me yesterday morning.”  He tries with a lighthearted  tone, making you lose the stiffness of your shoulders a little bit.  “I was probably one of the biggest fans.”

You laugh lightly, even if you don’t understand just to get rid of the awkwardness.  “How are you feeling, by the way?  Any lightheadedness or nausea?”

He tells you no, and is now silently judging your driving.  You’re pretty good at it, much to his surprise.  It’s not that he’s strongly opinionated about women’s skills in driving, he just rarely sees women do it.  Most have chauffeurs or have their husbands or boyfriends drive for them from where he’s from.

Charles sees a building, it’s smaller than he thought and the paint looks a little weathered but it does look more modern than the rest of the town, so he can’t complain.  You park your car and you both get out.

He watches you hurry to his side as you lead him to the ER.

“Do you have an ID?  I’ll fill up your information sheet for you.”  You say as you make him sit on the triage where a nurse gets his vitals.  He hands you his international driving license and you sit next to him, filling up the sheet.

You know the nurse so Charles was a bit confused when there’s no instructions given and you just headed inside the ER while clutching his hand.

Another nurse meets you inside the ER and was quite surprised to see you, his sleepy eyes widening over his mask.  It was early in the morning but Charles could see the nurses bustling about, either doing something with the computers lining the station or restocking items around the place.  The nurse leads you to a hospital bed, where he guides Charles to sit, and takes the sheet from your hand.  

The nurse greets you both and introduces himself as he reads through the information sheet.  When asked about your relationship, your throat went dry, not knowing how to respond.

Charles puts his hand on your shoulder and answers for you.  “I’m her boyfriend.”

The nurse looks at you for a moment before breaking into a cheeky smile, his eyes crinkling on the sides.  You know what’s running through his mind now.  Nurses can be pretty judgmental.  You should know.  “Alright.  So you are visiting her?”

“I am.”  Charles nods with a charming smile.

“That makes you his guardian.”  The nurse points a finger at you.  He excuses himself and pulls the privacy curtain around the bed and leaves to talk to a doctor.

You glare at Charles, dramatically collapsing on a chair at his bedside.  “Why boyfriend?”  You whisper yelled at him.

“We slept together.”  He shrugs. 

This guy.

“We could’ve just been cousins or distant relatives.”  You grumbled.

Charles sighs.  “Again, we slept together.” 

“Friends then!”  You say while throwing your hands in the air in frustration.

You’re kinda cute when you get mad.

“I’m sorry, okay?”  The little shit doesn’t look apologetic at all.  “It’s just the first thing that came to mind.  Considering what happened earlier and because of the…evidence.”  His eyes scan your shoulders and neck and you gasp, immediately fixing your hair to hide the evidence better.  But who are you kidding, there’s way too many, you should’ve worn a turtleneck if you really wanted to hide them.

The nurse comes back with the doctor and you immediately act civil when the curtains are pulled to the side.

They run a few neurological tests and the doctor says that there’s no apparent signs and symptoms of traumatic brain injury and decides not to have Charles go through diagnostic tests but he should be closely monitored nonetheless.  You are quite worried still and tried to offer to have him go through CT scan but after gathering a quick patient history interview, the doctor deduced that the brief loss of consciousness might be a result of mild alcohol poisoning.  Charles did reluctantly admit that he drank a lot yesterday.  The doctor eyed you as if you had anything to do with it!

After giving him IV fluids for hydration, Charles was quickly discharged.  You both got out with a bit of your anxieties lifted off, well most of it.  You still don’t know what to make do of your little situation.  But since you both rushed to the hospital on an empty stomach, you made a quick drive through which put the both of you in a better mood. 

“Sorry, I might have overreacted.”  You admit but he turns to you with an understanding smile, which you only see through your periphery as you focus on not crashing your car.  “It’s just that, you were knocked out upon impact so I thought it was Traumatic Brain Injury for sure.”

“I got good neck strength actually, tried to lean my head back and use my chest to break the fall, but I appreciate that you’re concerned, especially for a stranger.”  Charles tells you and he looks around when you go to a route he didn’t think you took earlier that morning.  “I saw multiple times what TBI does to people.”  

You briefly glance at him, now driving at the parking lot of some mall.  “What do you mean?”  You manage to park successfully.  Charles mirrors your movement as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

Charles purses his lips in contemplation and then looks at you, a small smile threatening to crack in his lips.  “Are you familiar with Formula 1?”

Raising a brow you eye his smile suspiciously.  “Kinda…?  It’s like racing, right?”  You say hesitantly which made his smile widen as he nodded.  “Are you like a medic?”

“No, sweetheart.”  He shakes his head, chuckling in pure amusement that he really had to introduce himself and what he does.  “I’m an F1 driver.”

For a moment you just look at him.  “…So like you drive around in circles?”

Charles looks at you in the most offended way anybody could have ever looked.

“I’m sorry!”  You apologize quickly.  “I am familiar with the idea of F1 but I am not like…a fan?”  You grimace and Charles lets out a series of words of disbelief in his thick accent and he just starts rambling…in French or was it Italian…both?

“I’ll look it up, alright?”  You say with a tired exhale, trying to calm him as his hands start flying in large gestures, still is pure and utter disbelief.  You reach for your bag on the backseat and you fetch your phone, waving it in front of his face and he calms down a bit, exhaling from his flared nostrils.

You start searching his name on Google.  “Charles Leclerc, right?”  You mumble and he loudly confirms it, his arms now crossed over his broad chest.  “Geez, calm down.  Remind me not to piss off a French dude.”  You chuckle as you type it in Google.  “With three wins, 11 podiums and nine pole positions, he was the only man able to consistently take the fight to champion Max Verstappen, ooohhh wow.”  You grinned at him excitedly but the man wasn’t smiling at all.

“You understood none of that, did you?”

“…yes.”  You say honestly.

Charles rolls his eyes.  “First of all, I’m Monégasque…meaning I’m from Monaco.”  He explains when you tilt your head to the side.  “I am a Ferrari driver…or at least, was a Ferrari driver until yesterday.”

There’s a drop to his voice at the end and you tried to continue the conversation.  “I love cars and I may not be following F1 but I do admire Ferrari greatly.  And to represent them in an international race?  Charles, that is beyond impressive.”  You say with pure admiration.

“I no longer represent them.”  He says with a stiff smile.  “I messed up last night and they terminated my contract.”

You look at him apologetically.  “I…I’m sorry.”  That explains the alcohol poisoning.

“It’s not your fault.”  He turns to you before looking out the windshield.  “In fact I should be sorry.  I took it out on you last night and I caused trouble this morning too.” 

You flush at his words but you can’t stop the laugh that escaped you.  “No, that’s okay, Charles.”

He scratches at his cheek, glancing briefly at your crime scene of a neck and you can’t help but smile at his little quirks.

“May I ask what happened?”  You ask gently.

Charles considers for a moment and lets out a long sigh.  After what happened between you, he thinks you have the right to have your questions answered.  “My girlfriend dumped me over the phone.”  You wince and he grins at your reaction.  “But it wasn’t that that made me spiral.  I was kind of okay with the break up.  I was losing her long before it happened…I just…I don’t know.  I felt like I needed a break from everything so I drank.”

“So if you’re from Monaco, how did you even get here?”

“I took a plane.”

You nearly snorted at how serious he is about it.

“What?”  He now laughed at your reaction.  “I did come here from Monaco on a plane!  Then I took a few cabs, stopped by some bars along the way, I think I took a bus but I’m not sure.  Now I’m flat out broke, no cellphone, and I have no intentions of using my ATM, or my PR team will show up at your doorstep.”

You shake your head as you reach for your bag, slowly taking in the information.  What a rough day he had yesterday, no wonder you can feel the ache all over your body.  He watches you apply your red lipstick perfectly.  You got out of the car right after killing the engine, Charles followed after you.

“So that’s how you ended up with alcohol poisoning.”  You narrow your eyes playfully at him.  “Also, don’t worry about the money.  I’ll just adopt you for now.”

“Thank you…but why?”  He looks genuinely puzzled. 

“I’m feeling kind of responsible for you since uhm…I think I’m the only one around here who knows what’s going on.”  He looks grateful but his facial expression shifts to concern when you grimace and hook a finger to fix your scarf.  “Ugh, why did I buy this?  It’s so itchy.”

“Why don’t you take that off?”  Charles casually suggests.  “Are you embarrassed to be seen with hickeys?”

You click your tongue.  “Anybody sane would be, Charles.”

“It is proof you had a good time.”  He says playfully with his accent drawling again and you smack him with your bag, making him laugh out as if he wasn’t just telling you about the disaster that landed him there.  You really admire the resilience of this guy.  “But what about you, we’ve been talking about me all morning.”

The mall’s automatic doors slide open and you lead him to the clothing department.

“Uhm…my life’s pretty boring actually.”

He shrugs.  “Still wanna know.”

Since he’s so insistent, you give in and you tell him your name and age like it’s some sort of interview.  “I’m uh…not from around here.  I just moved to this town for work.” 

Charles hums and asks where you’re from and you tell him.

“And it’s just you here?  No relatives?”

You shake your head no as you bend to grab a basket which you gently push to his chest.  He takes it from you without questions.

“Not around this area.  I have relatives here in US but they’re in different states and I kinda like being here.  Alone.”  You walk ahead and he follows you with his eyes.

“Alone?”  He echoes and you nod, picking up hangers with…underpants?

“Boxers or briefs?”

Charles chuckles with an awkward frown, making you look at him with frustration clear on your features.

“Come on, you need to change into fresh clothes.”  You huff but he can’t stop chuckling.  “Wait, how long are you planning to stay?  Don’t feel any pressure by the way, you’re welcome in my apartment…if you behave.  But like…do you have a date in mind when you’ll be heading back to Monaco? You just came here out of impulse afterall.”  You press your lips together, realizing you rambled.

His laughter dies out and you watch the internal battle behind his pretty eyes.

“I honestly don’t know yet.  I don’t plan to come back to Monaco anytime soon, that’s for sure.  This year’s season also ended a month ago so I don’t have any commitments.  Plus, Ferrari kicked me out of the team so...”

You sum it up for him.  “So you’re staying for a while.”  When he nods you place the hangers back and step to the shelf of some brand he doesn’t usually buy from but is familiar with.  “Well, you’re welcome to crash on my couch for as long as you want.”

He opened his mouth to respond but you held up two boxes from the shelves to his face.  These boxes hold at least a week’s worth.  

“Boxers or briefs?”  You ask again.

Charles glares at you with no real anger behind it, clearly just frustrated with your insistence but he knows you’re being practical.  He wordlessly attempts to snatch the briefs from your hand but you tighten your hold on the box.

You give him a mischievous grin.  “Large, medium, or small?”

He scoffs.  “I think I’ll choose my underpants on my own, thank you.”  Underpants aren’t even based on that stuff, why are you being so insufferable about it?  “And are you sure you want to keep teasing about sizes?  I got you staining the sheets last night, no?”

You open your mouth to retort but you settle with a quick “Suit yourself.”  You push the boxes to his chest before disappearing behind other aisles.

Charles follows you with his gaze before he looks at the boxes of underpants you shoved at him.  He scans the boxes and chooses the one that is his size.

You come back with a set of socks and a couple of…gym towels…he thinks.

“Are you done?”  You ask in a chirpy tone and he nods.  You pull him to the men's clothing section and you grab another hanger but this time with a long sleeved black linen shirt.  You hold it against his chest and Charles leans back slightly to keep the hanger’s hook from poking his eye.

You hum before putting it back and grab a different linen shirt with a better cut, this one in white and your eyes visibly brighten and you take it off from its hanger and drape it over your arm.  You grab the same design but in light blue.  You also hold a plain white t-shirt against him and you nod silently, he watches you grab another one of the same design and color and another one in black.  You are practically grinning when you place them in the basket he’s holding before you gasp.

“Oh my.  I’m literally playing dress up with you.”  You look genuinely apologetic and he finds it funny that you’re just figuring it out.  “You’ll be the one wearing them, you should choose for yourself.”

Charles scratches his chin.  “You’re paying so I can’t complain and I also like the ones you’ve chosen so far…can I get an extra pair of pants though?”

You look so adorable as you listen to him talk and the quick smile as he finishes, God!  “Sure.”  You say and he can’t resist ruffling your hair, making you slap his hand away. 

Charles follows you like how a chick would to its mother hen.  You like how he’s being vocal about what he wants.  “I’m thinking…something lighter in color, to go with the linen shirts…the one I have on now is denim so it’s perfect with the t-shirts.” 

He rambles more to himself and you can’t help but smile.

He picks out a cream colored pants and you raise your thumbs up when he proudly shows it to you.  Charles double checks the waistline before placing it on the basket that isn’t empty anymore now thanks to you.  He acknowledges it too and can’t help but think for a moment.

“I know I already asked…but I still don’t get it.”  He mumbles.  “I’m still a stranger.  We just slept together, why are you being so kind?”

Because you’re cute?  Your eyes widen at your own thoughts and you shake your head to get rid of it.“Well…I don’t know.  I just, it felt different having someone over in my apartment…and it’s a good difference, despite the…accident.  This is the first time that my boring morning routine changed like ever, so I’m not in a hurry to get rid of you.”  You smile at him from your shoulder.

“But I’m a stranger.”  He argues as you run your fingers on some sweatpants, falling right back into the urge to pick out clothes for him.

“Waistline?”  You ask and he responds quickly, making you pick out the gray sweatpants where your hand is resting.  You check the waistline then show it to him and he nods without looking at it, still wanting a clear answer.  “If it was me who woke up in your apartment, with no idea where I am, no money, no friends or relatives whatsoever in the area, would you kick me out?”  You place the pants against his legs and once you’re satisfied with the length, you pull it out of the hanger and fold it neatly to be placed in the basket.

He shifts his weight on his feet.  “Well, I don’t think so.  But I’d probably pass you to my team so they’d handle your uhm situation.”

You laugh at his honesty.  “I don’t have a team to pass you to and I just…I feel like being a good person at the moment.”  Like hell you’d tell him that you’re just lonely.  “Plus I already told you I’ll adopt you so I’m standing by what I said.”

“I feel indebted to you now.”  He chuckles.  “Don’t worry though, I’ll find a way to repay you somehow.”

“As long as you pick up after yourself in the apartment, we’re good actually.”

“Are you really sure I can stay in your place?  You said you liked being alone.”  Charles hesitates but you’re busy choosing workout shorts for him.

“Having company is nice every now and then.”  You mumble as you do the same thing you did with the sweatpants and you fold two dark workout shorts to be placed on the basket.  “Just don’t trash my house, help me a bit with the chores, and respect my alone time and we won’t have a problem.”

He gives you a lopsided smile.  “Roger that.”

“Oh, I also run an online business.  Don’t bother me when I pack orders.”  You say before leading him to different aisles of hygiene products.

“So you’re an entrepreneur too.”  He bumps your shoulder, making your cheeks heat up. 

“It’s just a small business, I only started it last year.”

“Wait…how?  You’re working?” 

You pick out items from the shelves as you answer.  “I go on duty in the hospital only for three days.  The rest of the week, I work on my business.”

“What kind of business is it again?”

Humming, you stare up into the ceiling, he smiles when it brings back memories from last night.  “Stationary…accessories…shirts…uhm regular girl stuff.”  You place basic toiletries in the basket.  You’re unfamiliar with the male products but you heard good things about the brands you chose. 

Charles looked at them and gave a silent approval.  “Must be tiring.”

“It is.”  You bemoaned.  “I work in the operating room and despite this place being a small town, we still get a lot of road incidents.  And hip replacements.”  You chuckle.  “Yeah we get a lot of those.”

“You’re a busy girl.”  He watches you toss a deodorant on the basket.  You also stop in front of various bottles.  “Perfumes?”

You nod as you turn to walk off somewhere.  “Yeah, choose something please, I’m getting kinda hungry again.”

Charles puts down the basket and opens a cap of perfume, his face immediately scrunching up.  He opens another one before he finally finds one that smells a bit like his usual perfumes.  He leans down and places the bottle on the basket, your feet come to his view and he watches you place a pack of razors and aftershave.  There’s also a facial cleanser and body lotion.  How’d you get those so quickly?

“You’re really serious about adopting me, huh?”  He grins and picks up the basket as you lead the way.

“I am officially your sugarmama.”

This cracks him up.  He follows you to the health section and watches you pick up a pack of sanitary pads, making his perfect brows furrow.

“Those are for me.”  You tell him and it makes more sense to him now.  “Do you need anything else?’

His eyes go over your head and he can’t help but let out a weird sound that sounded like groaning and a laugh.  “No, I don’t need anything else.”  He places an arm around your shoulders and leads you away.

You struggle to take a peek and you flush when you see condoms lining that part of the aisle.

Overdrive

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 9

At the Justice League Watchtower.

Diana: Good morning everyone and thank you for coming to this pronto meeting. I known we all have busy schedules so I'll make this quick. Bruce, Clark, and I have been investigating an operation by Lex Luthor. He has been moving round large amounts of radioactive material to a secret lab in the Sahara Desert, we currently do not know what he is planning but last night the radioactivity around the base spiked. We believe that there was some leak of the radioactive materials and we need a plan to contain it.

J'ohn: Are there any civilians in the region?

Clark: No, the lab is far out into the desert. The closest town is a small village with a population of about 1000 people an hour and a half away.

Hal: I could but up a temporary shield around the lab and try to contain the radiation as much as possible.

Bruce: That would be a good start.

Arthur: This is concerning, how can I help?

Diana: There is another shipment currently on a Lexcorp boat heading towards a port in Algiers we need you to stop it.

Bruce: Oliver, you will help Arthur take control of the ship.

Oliver: Got it.

Diana: Barry, while we believe the town and its residents will be safe, we'd like to keep you on stand by just in case.

Barry: Yes ma'am!

Diana: That's all from us. Now that we are together we should start making a solid plan, we start this operation 10pm, local time in Algeria. That gives us 8 hours to prepare. Any questions?

Oliver: Just one question, who's Bruce's new kid?

Everyone turned to look at Danny.

Danny: Hi!

Bruce: This is Danny, alias Phantom, he's Jason's kid... and my grandson.

Barry (laughing): Congratulations Bruce, you're a thirty-one-year-old grandfather.

Arthur: Is he helping us with the operation?

Diana: Yes, Danny is half-ghost and immune to radiation, he'll be helpful if the radiation levels are higher than we expect.

J'onn: You have a quite mind young one.

Danny: If I let you read my thoughts there's a fifty-fifty chance your brain may get scrambled.

J'onn: I see...

Billy: I'm here! Sorry I'm late, just had to finish something before I could leave- Billy looked around the room till he saw Danny. He jumped back and covered his ears.

Clark: You ok there Billy?

Billy: Who is that kid?

Danny: I'm Bruce's grandson.

Billy: ...

Clark: Why?

J'ohn: The gods in Billy's mind all just screamed bloody murder and told him that under no circumstances, should he make Danny mad.

Everyone looked at Danny but before anyone could ask question Constantine walked in.

Constantine: You known if you're going to call a random meeting at least give us more than 3 hours to get ready- Constantine froze when he saw Danny. Shit...

Danny (grinning): Constantine!

Bruce: You two know each other?

Danny: Yes, he's the fool that sold his sold his soul to a hundred separate demons who are all now petition me to decide who actually owns his soul.

Constantine: ...

Hal: Why would they petition you?

Danny: I'm their king.

JL: What!?

Danny: And another thing Constantine, come over here. A green light encircled Constantine throwing him across the room, placing down in a chair next to Danny. You didn't pay your taxes for the last tax season.

Constantine: I- your majesty, I'm not a citizen of the Infinite Realms.

Danny: Actually you are! Danny summoned a scroll. According to section 8, subsection 45, clause B of the Infinite Realms Citizenship and Nationality Status Governing Deaths, Resurrections, and All Other Avoidances of Death Act, also known as the IRCNSGDRAOADA, due to your soul being more than 80% owned by citizens of the Infinite Realms, you too are a citizen of the Infinite Realms, and thus have to pay taxes.

Constantine: I-

Danny: You owe the Crown, aka me, $25,000.

Constantine (nervous): Would your majesty be so kind as to wave my taxes for this year, given I did not know I had to pay?

Danny: I'll give you... 120 days to come up with the money, if not I'll send the tax collectors after you.

Constantine (terrified): You- you're too kind your majesty. Constantine picked up a folder from the table. I'll just read the report... I- got to go. Constantine left the room.

Bruce (tired): Danny...

Danny: I was joking, I'll wave the his missing taxes.

Hal: Why is he so scared of tax collectors?

Danny: The tax collectors in the Infinite Realms are not just nerds with suitcases, they are nerds with suitcases that also carry paintball guns.

J'onn: Paintball guns?

Danny: The paint will never come off till you pay your taxes.

Berry: That sounds so fun!

Arthur: I'm happy to have another king on the team. Finally I have some to talk to about the duties of ruling.

Danny: Tell me about it, for some reason, people can't just do as their told.

Arthur (crying): You understand me my pain.

Clark: Where does your family find these children?

Bruce: We don't find them, they find us!

Diana: As fun as this whole conversation is we do need to prepare for the mission. Let's get to work.

JL: Yes ma'am!

(Master Post)

[tumble-tv]

Going to a protest? Bring first aid.

I don’t mean bandaids and acetaminophen (although those are helpful). I’m talking trauma first aid. I’m talking gunshot wounds and car accidents and stabbings, stuff to keep somebody alive long enough to get to the hospital. Because it happens, and you need to know what to do if and when it does.

You need an IFAK (Individual First Aid Kit) pouch. You can find them easily online, this is my favorite model. No clasps, no buttons, just pull and it’s open. You don’t want something that will take a long time to open or something that has seventeen pockets. Everything needs to be in one place and easily accessible.

Here’s what you need in that pouch:

Tourniquet (https://www.rescue-essentials.com/combat-application-tourniquet-cat-gen-7/) This is how you keep people from bleeding out. Relatively easy to use, there’s plenty of videos online on how to properly use them. When somebody is shot in an arm or leg and is bleeding out, you need to use this or they will die. You can keep this on a limb for about six hours before there’s any risk for amputation, so they’ll be fine. Have one easily accessible on the outside of your pack and another inside your bag. Two is a safe number, but the more the merrier. Don’t cheap out on them, either, you need something that will hold up and do what it needs to the right way. Bright colors are your best friend here, use them. Black may look cooler, but it’s harder to see. Neon orange will always be your friend in the medical field. You can also write a “T” on the person’s forehead to let medical professionals know that they have a tourniquet on.

Trauma Shears (https://www.rescue-essentials.com/north-american-rescue-trauma-shears/) Somebody gets shot in the upper leg? You need to cut their pants off and this is what you’re gonna do it with. No time to waste with taking them off the normal way, get to cutting. Sorry, but their jeans are not top priority at the moment, their life is. I like to get mine in a color that I can easily recognize, like orange or glow in the dark green. Makes it easier to find.

Nitrile Gloves I’m talking medical gloves, the blue ones. You don’t want black because you can’t see blood as easily with that. You want blue or green. Keep multiple pairs (I personally have a handful just shoved in mine), because god forbid you’re working on multiple people, you NEED to be able to change gloves so you don’t cross contaminate their blood with each other. That can lead to so many problems. This protects both you and them from any contagions on your skin or in their blood. You can honestly get these at any store, but please get them allergen friendly (latex free). Keep them in their own little baggie to prevent contamination.

Sharpie When you apply a tourniquet, there’s a little white piece. You need to write the time you applied the tourniquet on that little strip. Worst comes to worst, if you forget your sharpie you can use blood to write on the person.

Compressed Packing Gauze (https://www.rescue-essentials.com/nar-responder-compressed-gauze/) If somebody has a deep wound like a gunshot wound where you can’t use a tourniquet (chest, back, stomach, etc), you need to use this. Find where the blood is coming from and shove it in there. You can get hemostatic packing gauze with a clotting agent, but it can be a bit expensive. Apply pressure, it’s a game changer. Also, if you’re using a clotting agent, keep the package to show to the medical professionals.

Compression Bandage (https://www.rescue-essentials.com/israeli-t3-bandage-4/) Also known as an Israeli bandage (I know, that’s just what it’s called and referred to). It ahs some plastic on it so you can wrap it around and twist the plastic piece to apply as much pressure as possible. Theta aren’t overly common, but they’re good to have. Perfect for slowing bleeding or securing a bunch of gauze you packed into a wound that you don’t want to move.

Nasopharyngeal Airways (NPAs) (https://www.rescue-essentials.com/rescue-essentials-naso-airway-kit/) Basically a tube you slide down somebody’s nose to keep their airway open. Best for if somebody has significant trauma to the jaw or mouth. Always use the lubricant!!! If you don’t, this becomes so much harder to do and so much more painful.

Vented Chest Seal (https://www.rescue-essentials.com/hyfin-vent-compact-chest-seal-twin-pack/) For a penetrating wound to the chest like a bullet, use these. One for the entry wound, one for the exit wound. These let trapped air to escape, but don't let air come in.

Space Blanket (https://www.rescue-essentials.com/nar-survival-blanket/) You know those funky silver blankets that look like tinfoil? That’s it. When somebody goes into shock, their body temperature will drop significantly. They can literally go hypothermic in ninety degree weather.

Rat’s Tourniquet (https://www.rapidtq.com/collections/tourniquets-1/products/r-a-t-s-tourniquet) Sometimes a regular tourniquet is too bulky. Maybe somebody is super skinny or it’s a kid or an animal, this will stop blood flow when a regular tourniquet won’t. They’re a little harder to figure out, but they’re worth it.

Other Helpful Stuff

Bandaids

Regular old sterile gauze

Alcohol pads

Neosporin

Sealed water bottles for washing out wounds if need be

Medical tape

Rolls of sterile gauze

Antiseptic

Tweezers (DO NOT GO DIGGING AROUND FOR BULLETS THIS IS FOR NASTY SPLINTERS)

Penlight

Glucose gel for all of our hypoglycemic friends

Blood glucose monitor to test if need be

Pulse oximeter

Shit ton of eye drops for tear gas, because that stuff hurts

Superglue

Masks

Hand sanitizer

Rubbing alcohol (Can be substituted with drinking alcohol if need be. Find the highest ABV you can, vodka and whiskey are your best choices here.)

Hydrogen peroxide

Electrolyte packets/chews

Bandanas

Eye protection, like goggles

Something to make a splint with. You can use an actual splint (https://www.rescue-essentials.com/sam-splint-original-36/) or any long rod or stick, really.

Duct tape

Multi tool and/or pocket knife

If you’re going to be That Guy in full tactical gear, make sure people know which side you’re on with patches. Pride flags, ACAB patches, whatever it is, put them everywhere. Make sure the people around you know which team you play for.

Buy multiples of everything. Make sure you practice and know what you’re doing. Have a bigger bag than that pouch I linked above? Great! Shove more stuff in there, the more the merrier.

Take a Stop The Bleed course, that makes everything easier and you’ll be better at what you’re doing. They’ll teach you how to pack a wound, you’ll stick your fingers in a fake leg and learn to do it. Also take a CPR course and get certified. I believe they teach you how to use an NPA, but I’m not entirely sure since I took one for my EMT certification and was taught to use NPAs, but I know that EMT certification for CPR is different from civilian certification in some way.

I did not include CPR materials for a reason. If somebody is passed out from massive blood loss, they won’t wake up with CPR. If there’s no blood for the heart to pump, then CPR won’t do anything. If someone isn’t breathing and this is a mass casualty event like what this bag is packed for, leave them. I hate to say it, but you need to leave them. There is no way you are going to get this person breathing again in time for you both to get out alive if you’re being shot at. If somebody needs CPR, they are classified as “meaningfully dead.” CPR is meant to keep blood moving until first responders arrive, and during protests, they won’t. You’re free to bring CPR materials, I won’t stop you, but be aware of that.

Tampons are a good emergency alternative to packing gauze if need be. You’ll probably need a lot of them, but they’ll work in a pinch (and will be awesome if somebody needs one for their normal purpose).

If you have anything to add, please do. Any information helps.

[mscherub]

Right, so…you’re transported to a new world, and me being the science geek I am, I can’t help but think of all the bacteria you wouldn’t be accustomed to in Twisted Wonderland…so imagine how bad flu season would be, or just the spreading of sicknesses around the school in general

You better have a good immune system cause oml would it be put into overdrive. Anyways…here’s my twist on what the Diasomnia boys would do in order to be helpful in your recovery ❤️‍🩹

Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia

Warnings!:

Sickness, obviously

Mentions of vomiting, snot, etc

To start us off…

It’s flu season in Twisted Wonderland, well you call it the flu, they call it something else you don’t even bother to learn. With you’re immune so shot and not used to the illnesses that spread around, getting sick more often that you honestly should, you woke up with a headache. Ok…nothing too serious, but you thought it to be a good idea to just take some ibuprofen equivalent in their world and “thug it out,” which ultimately lead to your current situation. Currently, you’re in the infirmary, having passed out from a raging fever and a disgustingly congested respiratory system during PE and you’re bed ridden back at ramshackle, at least until your fever goes down. Sevens bless Grim and the ghosts as they try and get you things to feel better, but you need some sort of intervention, and here comes you’re favorite person at the right time. How do they help you out?

Malleus 🐉:

For one, he’s surprised you called upon him of all people, but hey, he’s not complaining. He’s been training for this day somewhat because Gao-Gao Drakon-kun has taught him how to take care of things and keep them alive, though, granted it’s a lot different in this case…but he can get an A for effort, at least. The thought that counts

He’ll sit by your side and ask you what exactly are your ailments, how he can help, all just to gauge what he should do…your very different from a tamagotchi—

Pillows, blankets, anything else? He’ll magic it right your way, probably casting some spell on it, possibly a relaxation one, which would be nice for your predicament

Of course he’ll also have food covered as well, what do you want? Eat it or don’t depending on how you feel, he won’t be mad at all, he’ll just be confused as to why you won’t eat, he's pretty sure humans need to eat to get better quickly, but he won’t pry

He’ll scoff at the medicines your assigned to take and he’ll go make you ancient and passed down remedies from Briar Valley, claiming they work better…and awkwardly enough they do perform a lot better than what you were taking before, so that’s a win because maybe you’ll get better even faster

He’ll let his magic do the work for cleaning.

He’s also not afraid to get sick, he’ll sit with you, he’s more than happy to. No being grossed out here, if anything, it’s quite peculiar how differently illnesses affect humans

He’ll be smug about taking care of you. This is the first time he's done this for a friend, especially as one as good as you.

Lilia 🧚‍♀️:

Bros gonna fuck around with you as soon as he sees you, sorry. But yet again, he does have that paternal side to him, and you just look so…helpless, and he’s not cold hearted, so of course he’ll stay and take care of you

Don’t let him cook, don’t if you wanna live!

If you refuse to eat what he makes you he’ll start getting snippy and uncharacteristically strict, saying how you need to eat to keep up your energy so your body can fight away this illness. Just keep refusing his food, if you’re not hungry then that should be fine and rather easy, but if you are, have him go buy you a little snack. Better than you not eating at all he’ll finally conclude to

He’s also a little iffy with the medicines, again with the cooking, he'll try to make a medicinal item out of herbs and stuff…probably toxic instead of the intended purpose, so don’t take it, trust me. “Oh? My, my…I didn’t realize it would turn out to be a poison! Silly me. Good thing you didn’t have any beastie.” he will laugh it off.

But, he’d still give you the medicines you need, don’t worry. He’s serious when he needs to be, and you’re recovery is important to him right now

He’ll mess around with Grim and the ghosts as you lie in bed, having a little fun himself, but if you need anything, he’ll change up quick and be by your side

Blankets, water, pillows, he’s got it under cover

He’s not scared to get sick himself so he’ll stay close to your side, most likely gently cooing at you and relishing in how you’re just so cute like this

Be warned he will randomly disappear at times, but if you call him he’ll pop up in front of you, upside down as usual. But, he’ll make sure Ramshackle is quiet while you rest, don’t worry

Silver ⚔️:

He’s honored to help you out, so he’ll do so without complaint

When it comes to those he holds dear, he’ll become more protective and do what he can to help them, and you just so happen to be in that group of people, and especially with your state, you’ll be pampered. Since Silver is tasked with watching over Malleus, he’ll do the same for you

What do you need? Well, he’s already on it, actually, so don’t worry.

Food he has under control definitely, man has to save himself from Lilia’s cooking all the time and he’s learned from a young age, so whatever you want he’ll conjure up real quick. Eat it or don’t, if you’re not hungry he’ll understand and save it for later

Do be patient with him, however, he has his sleepy spells and make sure Grim is with Silver if he’s cooking at that moment, though trusting Grim to take over if Silver does fall asleep isn’t really a great option, either-

Oh! He’s awake again, ok, medications, yea, right. If he doesn’t forget to give them to you after he falls asleep, then you’ll be fine. If he does forget, remind him, he’ll apologize and be right on it

When he’s not tending to you he’ll do stuff around Ramshackle, his pet peeve is idleness, so…

He’ll clean up and make sure the rest of the inhabitants are ok

After that, he’ll go back to your room and sit in the armchair, he’s not afraid to get sick, and he’ll doze off along with you

Sebek ⚡️:

Well…he’s going to chastise you severely while he helps you. He’ll say he’s only doing it because you’re Wakasama’s good friend, and that’s the only reason why, not that he’s actually doing this because he wants to and he feels bad, no, definitely not that. “Human! I shall only provide assistance on Wakasama’s behalf!”

He’ll belittle you every time he speaks, and if you have a headache already, just get good at ignoring him yap

Again just like with Silver, his duty is to watch over Malleus, so he’ll evidently do the same with you in a sense since that’s what he’s learned. He'll wait in your room, sitting in the arm chair, most likely reading.

He’s learned to cook well enough for himself, obviously, due to Lilia’s cooking, so he’ll provide you with more nutrient dense meals if you ask him to. He won’t do it unless you ask, he doesn’t wasn’t to assume

Sebek will make sure you take your medications religiously until you're better, it’s your duty, and he always follows his duties, you should, too.

He’ll clean up here and there, make sure Grim and the ghosts are in line, and he’ll grab you anything else you could possibly want, again, not without some complaint. “Humans are weak creatures!” He doesn’t really mean it in a mean way…he’s just being honest 🤷‍♀️

He’ll try and be quiet while you sleep, but forgive him if he yells at Grim at all and wakes you up-

Afterwards he’ll probably get sick himself, feel free to make fun of him then, KARMA

IM DONEEEE! Sorry I took my sweet ass time with Diasomnia, oh lord…

Also, I realized I made each one progressively longer for each character as I progressed through the dorms, so…whoops 🧍‍♀️(I yap too fucking much-)

But hey, now I can start on a new series, just gotta come up with one- or, someone could suggest one if anyone has any ideas!

Btw, requests and asks are open!!! ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ

Master list

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

[genderqueerdykes]

hello, i have a question concerning one of your recent posts talking about trans men, ftm and other male or mspec people being lesbians. i mean this in the most respectful way possible, but how could a trans man be a lesbian? isnt the whole point non men loving non men? im sorry if youve got this question before and thanks for answering in advance if you do

i get this question all the time lol but i don't mind answering. thanks for taking the time to ask!

that is radfem rhetoric that you've picked up from other people inadvertently- lesbian does not mean "non man loving non man," as gay does not mean "non woman loving non woman". "gay" is a form of queer attraction, so is lesbian. if we don't define "gay" by who we leave out, why are we doing so with lesbianism? we do not define who we are attracted to by who we leave out, that makes no sense. lesbian is a form of queer attraction that can include as many people as an individual feels is right for them. if we say "non men" to include nonbinary people why are we excluding nonbinary and other trans people who also happen to be men as well? some people are "non men" and men at the same time, so do we exclude them, too, or do we include them?

the logic falls apart instantly the second we remind ourselves that multigender, genderfluid, gender non conforming, genderqueer, (masc) nonbinary, genderfuck and other people who completely break the gender binary. and a lot of them are men and mascs. lesbians should not have to be shoved inside of a cis butch woman - cis femme woman dichotomy and nothing else. we've been tricked into thinking like radfems by viewing "proper" lesbian relationships as relationships between cis lesbians and feminine afab nonbinary lesbians (who are being viewed as cis women in this scenario) and nobody else. we need to allow lesbianism to be diverse, otherwise, we will continue this radfem echo chamber that has been going on for decades!

we must also consider that lesbian is a form of queer attraction, so it can include lots of experiences, just like gay can. nonbinary people, genderqueer people, trans people of all genders can use "gay" how they see fit, whether it means they're attracted to men, women, nonbinary people, intersex people, genderfluid people, and so on. people of all genders are allowed to do the same thing with dyke, sapphic and lesbian as well! the most common useage of the word lesbian is to mean wlw, but that doesn't mean every single lesbian, dyke and sapphic explains it that way. some lesbians, dykes and sapphics experience multiple modes of attraction! some are bi, pan, poly, omni and so on

lesbianism and men are not polar opposites. lesbians can be multigender or genderfluid. lesbians can be transmascs and trans men and guys and boys and men. lesbians can be boydykes and guydykes. many trans men and mascs start out in the lesbian community and find their home there. some find they never stop feeling like lesbians or butches or dykes. there are two-spirit lesbians who are also men. this is totally okay. this sort of thing can hurt intersex lesbians. this kind of thinking can hurt transfem lesbians and lesbian trans women as well if transphobic people consider them "men". we need to stop trying to exclude as many people as we can from lesbianism, and focusing on including people instead. lesbian is not and well not ever be an exclusive term that only applies to women and women only. let's be real, "non men" just means very feminine nonbinary people and ""women-lite"" enbies. this doesn't apply to masc enbies and trans people, because where does the line between "non man" and "man" begin? it doesn't exist

hope that helps! thanks for taking the time to ask! have a wonderful day you can also search the tags on this post on my blog as i talk about this a lot! :) this works best in desktop or in a browser on mobile.

[love-and-war-on-cybertron]

Since you mentioned dead dove request. 👉👈 Could it be possible to request Synthetic Energon!Ratchet? I feel like that mech would do unspeakable things when horny.

Maybe he has a crush on reader who is a mechanic helping him out, and he gets jealous when he sees reader bond with Knock Out now that he doesn't have the medbay and you to himself. Reader could casually offer to buff/polish Knock and that pushes Ratchet over the edge and just yanks you and takes you to his quarters after giving you the silent treatment all day. Highly doubt that mech would show any restrains.

"How's it Hummin'" Will forever be HOT. Like goddamn sleazy but HOT. Sorry It's being split into a two-parter XP

cw: Heavy Dub-con. Reader wants it, but maybe not quite like that.

It had been innocent. Or so you thought. Ratchet had been moody, especially ever since he tried that synthetic crap. Ignoring you all day, even when you came directly to him, asking if you could help with anything. The huff you received in return was enough to know you didn't want to deal with whatever he was upset about.

Knockout was better company today anyways.

The formerly Decepticon Medic had warmed up to you despite being human. You knew your stuff and didn't joke or distrust him for being a turn coat. You could even share a few laughs and talk about Movies. He offered to let you ride with him to see one at the drive in.

Ratchet mumbled something. You assumed it was annoyance at what ever project he was working on. After some chitchat, you and Knock Out get to work, snarking back and forth. It was a project you had been working on for awhile. Something Ratchet said you didn't need his help on.

A couple hours in, you're taking a break, sitting next to Knock out. He holds up an arm, sighing at a scuff.

"I miss Breakdown. He could get this out and polish it away like it never happened." He seemed lost in thought for a moment.

Knowing what happened to his friend, you felt a little bad, "Well maybe I can Buff that out for you later?" Ratchet drops a tool but you pay it no mind, "I got some tool in my truck if you're okay with human tools. I could-" You stop, seeing Knockout's face.

He isn't looking at you, but past you, Optics wide. Heavy footsteps rapidly approach and knockout backs away, servos held up. He speaks in Cybertronian. There is a sharp response behind you before you are snatched up.

The grip is a bight tight, but nothing damaging. You try to struggle out of it but you're brought up quickly to meet green Optics. "Quiet."

It's Ratchet. What was up his aft? You try to speak again, but he growls at you. The sound and vibration sending a shiver down your spine. He stomps through the base all the way to his quarters. Far in the back. He liked the quiet. You are none-too-gently dumped onto the slap of rock he made into a berth. The room is dark, save for the glow of his eyes. The green makes you uneasy. As does the way he leans close, servos flat on either side of you.

"What's up Ratchet?" You sit up on your elbows, heart racing, trying to keep your voice steady.

The Medic glares down at you, silent. Servos dragging off of the slab as he stands straight. Glowering down at you, he looked even more massive.

"Getting real fragging close to that Con." He spits the last word out.

"He's not a decepticon anymore. You know tha-'

A massive metal fist slams down beside you, his face close. You're bathed in that sick green light. Vision drowned in his optics. His voice, a tense whisper.

"Getting. Real. close."

You start shaking, unable to look away as the mechanics of his optics shift and focus on you. Who was this, cause it sure as hell wasn't Ratchet. All this change started with...

"Ratchet. Come on. You-" you take a shaky breath, "You haven't been yourself. Lets just-"

"No." His voice is firm as he grabs your ankle and drags you to the edge of the berth, "I have never felt more myself. Stronger. Faster. Better. Can't you see it? Can't you see I'm better than everyone else? Especially that scrap excuse for a doctor?"

Trying to scoot away only made his hold on you tighten enough to earn a grunt.

"The frag do you see in him, when I'm right in front of you?"

You had always suspected something, Ratchet was a bit softer with you compared to the other humans. Always excluding you from his complaints about humans. Taking time to talk to you, teaching you about Cybertronian physiology. But this...

"Ratchet, that shit is making you act weird." You say, reaching out to touch the servo that grips you. The large Metal thumb running up and down your leg. It sent another shiver down your spine.

"No, I'ts making me act just right. I'm not holding back anymore." His thumb slides under your shirt.

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

ᯓ ᯓ kryptonite kisses ᯓ ᯓ ⋆˙ ✮

clark can't seem to take his lips off of yours for even one second aka your lips are kryptonite, weakening him (but if that what it takes for you to keep you close to him, cest la vie)

tags: fluffyyyy, kisses, you work together, established relationship

FIRST CLARK FICLET!! def not the last bc i am so weak for this man already but i hope you enjoy!

You rub your forehead, the words on the page in your hands blurring together. How is it possible for one writer to make so many mistakes? The red pen tucked on your ear was running on its last legs of ink. You were convinced that the person who wrote this sham of an article deserved to be sent back to the kindergarten. And they also definitely needed glasses because who in their right mind would ever write a sentence as atrocious as “Superman’s strengths lied in his sooper abilities of strong because his face was a zero out of ten.”

“When I catch the person who wrote this, they’ll never ever write again. I won’t let them.” You mutter, taking your red pen and scribbling furiously, nearly ripping the paper out of anger.

A resounding laugh echoed in your office all of a sudden, you looked up to meet the familiar voice's face. Beautiful blue eyes stared back at you, glasses framing his strong nose and handsome face. You smile, setting your pen down as the man walks to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“What are you whispering furiously?” He smirked.

“Only this stupid article titled ‘Superman, only is he really that super?’” You sigh, lifting the paper for the tall man behind you. He lets out another chuckle, taking the papers as he starts to read the obscene article.

His deep voice starts to read the words under his breath, a few amused snorts escaping his thinned lips.

“Go back to elementary school? Such kind words darling.”

You laugh standing up and taking the papers from his hands, throwing them back to your desk. You walk up to him, your chest meeting his as you look up to gaze at the tall man.

“What would you have me say Clark? ‘You can’t write for shit, who spells super as sooper’?” He laughs, hands coming up to your arms, rubbing up and down. Your shoulders loosen under his powerful touch. 

“That’s certainly one way to communicate how whoever wrote that needs an immediate ride to the hospital because I think that they may have a severe concussion,” he hums, “Do ya think they’ll let me fly them to the hospital?”

You laugh, resting your head in the space between his shoulder and neck. You wrap your arms around his broad chest, “I don’t think that’s the best idea, Superman.” You whisper the last part.

Clark looks down at you, smiling at the very ‘secretive’ smile you give him. You made him feel as if he was the only one in the world, the way your bright eyes lit up every time you smiled. On a planet of 7 billion and a universe with who knows how many more species and people, you were the only one to make his chest swell with giddiness and elation.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, moving away from you so he could help you pack your things. You smile as you begin to plan your night in your head. Superhero movies, beer for Clark while you sipped on a nice red Clark bought you, and of course tipsy kisses which would probably lead to much more.

You mindlessly organize the articles you needed to edit on your desk, taking home a few that you could finish later. You smile, thankful it’s time to go home and spend the rest of your night with Clark.

“What are you smiling about over there? Surely the first page of the article I wrote about Superman isn’t that interesting.”

Your eyes snap to the page underneath your fingertips only to see a photo of the Man of Steel with the words “by Clark Kent” underneath the photo. 

You laugh, “sorry Clark, just excited to spend some time with you is all.” You smile, quickly packing up the rest of your things, your heels clacking on the tile floors of your office to catch up with your boyfriend. 

He smiles, taking your briefcase, which Clark noted was worn out and much cuter than the one he used, from your hands. He moves everything he’s holding to his left hand, cradling your hand in his. You smile, holding your coat in your other arm as you two walk to the elevator.

You press the button, letting your hand fall from Clark’s. He immediately pouts, much like a puppy or even Krypto, his shoulders sagging. You laugh at his antics, leaning to kiss him on the cheek. 

Clark’s heart immediately stop, the world seemingly halting as he looks at you, a gentle smile on your lips. He tilts his head to you, pressing his lips to meet yours in a soothing kiss. 

You lean in, your nose catching on his glasses. Your lips danced together, your hand going up to cradle his cheek. Your hand rubbed against his strong jaw as his lips continued to ravage yours. 

He released your lips for a second, his hand shooting up to throw his glasses into his pocket. He throws your bags and his own coat to the ground to wrap his strong arms around your waist, hoisting you up against him. Your hands immediately shoot up to his face, bringing him closer to you. 

Your breaths between kisses grew heavier and heavier, your lips tingling with passion and need as you greedily took Clark’s lips. His hands started to roam across the small of your back, your waist, your ass. His lips greedily latch onto yours, stealing ever sigh and groan escaping your messy pink lips. 

Suddenly the elevator dinged, your head shooting to the open metal door, praying that no one was inside. 

Clark laughs, noting your fear. He sets you down, kissing your nose and cheek before swiftly putting his glasses back on, patting his coat to rid it of any dirt, and grabbing your bags from the floor. You shyly do the same to your own coat, slipping your arms through the velvety sleeves as you walk to the elevator. 

You and Clark both reach to press the garage button at the same time. Your eyes lock on to each other, goofy smiles and chuckles drowning out the music playing of the crackly speakers. 

“Let me take you out on a date darling.” Clark takes your hand, kissing the ring you wore on your middle finger. 

You nod, your hand shaking away from his own. You cradle his face as the elevator continues it’s descent into the abyss of the lower floors.

You lean in once more, kissing his lips. You quickly move away from him though as the elevator doors open once more, sprinting away to your car before Clark could trap your lips once again in heaven. 

As you move hastily to your car, you hear Clark mumble “damn you and your kryptonite kisses.”

You laugh, opening the doors for Clark as he scrambled to get you inside presumably to catch your lips once again in a kiss.

[emsdevs]

A Luke Hughes ask of his girlfriend going into labour and him telling his family he is a dad to a son

a/n: I'm so sorry for the wait nonnie! I hope you still like it! Also everyone please note: I have never been pregnant and therefore do not know the exact process of having a baby. If there are inaccuracies, please ignore them. Thanks and enjoy dad!Luke :)

Labor of Love

You swore you both would be prepared for this, and you definitely were. Luke, on the other, didn’t seem to be taking it as well. When you felt your water break, you called him into the room, telling him the situation.

“Oh god. Oh no. We have so much to do. Oh my god. Okay, you can get changed if you wanna, and I’ll get everything in the car,” he said, frantically moving around the room.

“Luke, baby, I can’t change my pants by myself,” you answered, significantly calmer.

“Right! Right, I knew that,” he plays it off, coming over to help you undress and redress. He moves you to the car where you get situated while he runs around grabbing everything you might need while at the hospital. 

After you arrived and got checked in, Luke called his family, letting them know you had gone into labor and were at the hospital. Next, he called yours. It was very early in the off-season and you went into labor a little bit early, so they would have to fly in from Michigan, unable to be there until two days later at the earliest. After many excited reactions, he was finally done with his round of phone calls, and he walked back into your room in just enough time for you to start laboring. Fourteen hours of blaming and yelling at Luke later, you had delivered your baby and were waiting to find out the gender. You both had agreed since it was your first child, you wanted to wait to find out the gender until the baby was born. Soon, your baby was in your arms and the midwife was telling you that you’d delivered a beautiful baby boy. The tears started flowing the moment he was placed in your arms, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Luke in the same state beside you. 

“You did so well, baby. Look what you brought us,” he was getting choked up staring at the perfect mix of you and him.

“He’s so perfect,” you move your finger so your son can grab it, “a baby boy.” Soon, the nurses were stealing him away to run all the tests needed, and you instructed Luke to never let your baby boy out of his sight. Eventually, your boys returned, and you all got some much-needed family time. Soon though, you and your son were in desperate need of sleep, so Luke took that time to go inform his family. When he walked through the doors to the waiting room, everyone stood up waiting for whatever news he had for them. 

“She’s doing good, and the baby was born at 3:17. He’s healthy and so perfect,” he sniffled at the end of his sentence, feeling the tears beginning to well up again.

“He?” Luke heard your mom ask.

“Yeah we had a baby boy,” he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He was crying because of the pure joy he felt, his mother wrapping him in her arms while she shed her own tears. Distantly, he could hear Jack and his father having their own celebration before Jim went to call Quinn who couldn’t be there because of playoffs. Gently, Ellen pulled back before asking what name you two had decided on. You both had kept your picks for the names a secret, wanting to keep it to yourselves for as long as possible.

“Samuel Bennett,” he spoke softly.

“Samuel Bennett Hughes,” Ellen breathed, “He sounds perfect, Luke.”

“He is, Mom,” before Luke could start crying again, Jack brought him into a hug, telling him he knew he’d be a good father. His father was the last to hug him, being sure Luke knew how proud he and Ellen were. He let them be the ones to inform Quinn and your family, wanting to get back to his family.

When he got to the room, he took a moment to really take in you and Samuel. You were the love of his life, and he couldn’t wait to see where this road takes you both. He couldn’t wait to spend more time with Samuel and get to know the little boy that you two, mainly you, brought into this world. He was so incredibly thankful to be able to have this moment. You two have been through a lot since getting together in high school. You even stuck with him after he got drafted, choosing to transfer to a school in New Jersey to be closer to him. He’s always had your unwavering support, and he hopes you know he’ll always have your back as well. Right now though, he’s sure both of you will be the co-founders of Samuel’s fan club. No matter what happened or where life leads the two of you, he knows he has you and Samuel, and that’s enough for him.

taglist: @heartsforjh @alex-wotton @devilinpradaheels @juxmi @macklin-celebrini-71 @puckmedude

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[yanphighting]

Omgomgomg yandere phighting blog!!!

Is it possible for me to request Yandere Dom or Valk headcanons? Or both? If not then Yandere Medkit headcanons if you don't mind?

Sorry if im coming off strong I'm just really excited to see a yandere phighting blog!!

(Is it possible for me to be 🥞 Anon? ^^)

╰┈❥ YANDERE VALK AND DOM

AN: I LOVED DOING THIS REQ,,, Hope you enjoy this! Had a lotta fun writing this!

♡ Valk always takes photos of you whenever you two hang out, cute photos of you two hugging, sharing a coffee together, you wearing the brand-new outfit he had bought you for your spawnday. He never lets you see the photos though for some reason always being so secretive about them, saying he's just keeping them on his phone. Later on, he'll post them to every platform he can get his claws on, captioning the photos about how he was so glad to be with his spouse.

♡ Valk as a draconic like demon definitely has the traits of one. He's can't help that he has the need to grab everything and anything you own and have it all to himself. Your clothes are definitely things he'll take most often, sweaters, shirts and scarves that still smell exactly like you. He keeps everything he had hoarded from you in a drawer in his room, cuddling with the items whenever he thinks it misses you.

♡ Even if Firebrand is gone currently I'd think Valk would still have a lot of status as he is the grandson of the deity. He would find demons from all around the Crossroads to find your favorite thing, limited edition doesn't matter to him he'll find everything you would ever wish for, that'll definitely get you to like him! If you ask questions about how he found whatever you wanted he'd just chuckle saying that he has his ways.

♡ Valk would message you an alarming amount of times. It doesn't matter if you're busy, you will come back to see five or more missed messages with even more coming in about how he misses you, how he wishes you could hang out like right now or just him spamming you with stupid messages. Even if you'd block his number or change yours, he'd find a way to text you again.

♡ Valk absolutely swears to himself that he has to end up with you! You're the perfect demon for him, you two just NEED to be together. He'll vaguely talk about you as ' this cute demon he's been fawning over' everyone in the general vicinity WILL hear about you. Valk thinks and dreams about you every second he can. It's gotten to the point where he's most likely messed up announcements or some sort of choreography due to daydreaming about you.

♡ Dom, similar to his brother, definitely has the draconic hoarding habit however he's more discreet about it. Instead of taking clothing items he's more likely to take smaller trinkets and items from you, hair ties, small plushies that once littered your bed and even a bottle of your favorite perfume! He keeps smaller items with him so it's like he's carrying around a small piece of you whoever he's going.

♡ Instead of gushing about you online like a certain someone he keeps his thoughts to himself. Dom writes about you as he thinks about you, he'll write about how happy the two of you'll be once you start dating or even marry! He'll also just aimlessly jot down the things he noticed about you throughout the week,how you smiled at his joke, how you seemed much more at ease with him! It just makes his wing flutter with excitement as he swoons over you like a teenage girl.

♡ On a similar note he'd write songs about you! Songs about how much he loves you and how every bit of you is so CUTE! He'd wouldn't show you the songs if you saw him writing them out going with the excuse that it was 'unreleased' material that you weren't allowed to see. Maybe one day he'd show you them.

♡ Dom would have a stalking habit, he doesn't entirely mean for it to happen, he just wants to make sure you're safe! You may not see him but he's seeing you whenever you end up going. You start feeling a bit uneasy after a trip to a mall in Crossroads, swearing that you'd seen Dom watching you from the corner of your eye yet when you turn to look ... he's gone. You're not even safe when you're home. Maybe it's just late-night paranoia getting to you, but you swear there's someone at your window watching you sleep.

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Shae & woodworker story cont'd

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

Author's Notes: sorry it's been a while :')

Content Warnings: tiny whump, faerie whump, injury, difficulty breathing, caretaking, unintentionally painful caretaking

---

The first thing the human does upon bringing Shae upstairs is clean him off. He turns on the water in the kitchen - just a light trickle, checking that the water is neither too hot nor too cold - and then holds him under it, using his strong but gentle hands to wash away all the dust. Whenever Shae coughs the man holds him to the water so he can drink some. It is such a relief he could cry, if only he had the strength.

"Let's take a look," the man says calmly. He sits at the kitchen table and lies Shae on a folded apron. Shae winces and tries to roll onto his side, off of his splinter-riddled back. The man notices and helps him, drawing in a sharp breath when he sees the damage. "Ouch. Alright, let me get some things..."

He disappears for a few minutes, though Shae can hear him moving around in other parts of the house. Shae sighs and presses his face against the soft, clean fabric of the apron. It smells like the human, and he is surprised to find that that is a comfort to him. He even starts to doze off a little, but is woken by the man's returning footsteps.

"Still with me?" he asks, leaning down to look at Shae's face.

Shae opens his eyes and nods weakly.

"Good. So, uh - I'm going to pull these splinters out of your back and clean the wounds. And it's going to hurt, and I'm really sorry for that, but it has to be done. Do you understand?"

Tears fill Shae's eyes. He doesn't know how he can possibly stand any more pain, but with every shift and breath he can feel the slivers of wood in his skin like little daggers, and he knows the human is right - they have to go. So Shae nods again.

"It's going to be okay."

The man takes a pair of tweezers and leans close to Shae, who shudders a little at the feeling of being loomed over. He closes his eyes and clutches the apron in his fists as the tweezers grab onto the first and largest splinter. At the slightest pull sharp pain shoots across his skin. Shae lets out a hoarse cry and instinctively tries to pull away, but the human's hand closes over his lower half, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep him pinned in place. Still, it's enough to make Shae panic, and the man quickly steps away, withdrawing his hands.

He gives Shae several minutes to calm down, and feeds him water through a dropper when he starts to cough. When Shae is breathing evenly again, he picks up the tweezers. "I won't hold you down. But I need you to stay still, yeah?"

I'll try, Shae thinks. He bites down on the fabric and braces himself. He whines as the tweezers close on a splinter and once again start to pull. After a little resistance, the splinter slips free and Shae feels a trickle of fresh blood run down his skin.

"You're doing great," the human says quietly, giving his cheek a little rub. Despite his fear, the compliment bolsters him. Shae sniffles and remains still as the next splinter is removed, and the next, and the next.

By the end he is shaking like a leaf. But if he thought that was bad, it's nothing compared to when the human wets a clean cloth with something from a bottle and presses it to Shae's back. The stinging pain erupts into a burning one, a pain that darkens his vision and steals his breath. Shae lets out a feeble sound, vaguely aware of the human muttering apologies as he quickly cleans the blood from the faerie's scraped and punctured skin.

Eventually the damp cloth disappears and the human gently rubs something onto the skin, then applies a clean, dry strip of gauze and secures it with a bandage. This dulls the fierce agony considerably, allowing Shae to catch his breath and wipe the tears from his eyes. To his relief, the human steps away, giving him some time to recover.

He is close to falling asleep when Shae feels himself being gently manhandled, turned over onto his back, which has gone pleasantly numb. Still, the rest of him hurts no less than before, and he groans at the movement.

"Sorry...just treating this burn..." The man smooths a gel across the inflamed, blistered skin of Shae's belly. It hurts only a moment before a cool tingling kicks in and the pain eases. A bandage is wrapped around his middle.

The human finds every injury, however small, until the wounded little faerie is clean, bandaged, and treated with medicine. He takes sips of water and apple juice, and soon the fits of coughing come less frequently and Shae feels less like he might faint at any moment. He is far from okay, but is so, so grateful for any relief he can get.

"Um..." While the man is capping a bottle, Shae sits up and timidly waves for his attention.

Clearly surprised, the human sets the bottle down and leans close. "What is it? Do you need something."

Unable to voice it, Shae simply points at one of the man's hand's - large, strong, scarred and calloused, he feared them all this time, when they have been nothing but gentle with him. At the request, the man places his hand on the table in front of Shae, remaining as still as he can. Shae crawls into it and hugs his thumb.

"Oh..." The man hesitates, then pets Shae's hair. "You must have been really scared down there, huh?" He cradles the faerie in both hands and holds him to his chest. It's warm, so warm, the fabric of his shirt soft, the beat of his heart strong and steady when Shae presses his ear to it and sighs.

He can feel movement, the human carrying him somewhere. Shae expects it to be the box in the living room where he has been sleeping, and is surprised when instead he is carried upstairs to the man's bedroom. Shae sits up enough to look at it - simple, a little messy, but cozy.

"I think you should stay up here until you're better, in case you need anything. I hope that's ok."

Continuing to hold Shae with one hand, the man puts together a new improvised little bed of blankets in the half-open bedside table drawer. He carefully settles Shae onto it, and after the last few nights spent in the cold, dark crevice in the wall, letting his body sink into the warm, soft pile of fabric is like heaven. Already drowsy, when the man drapes a scarf over him and shuts off the light, Shae begins to drift off to sleep to the sounds of the human readying himself for bed.

The last thing he's aware of is his hair being pet and a voice whispering, "good night". For the first time in a long time, Shae smiles.

[kiszjuli]

STRAWBERRIES AND CINNAMON PANCAKES .ᐟ

✸ renjun x fem!reader | genre. fluff | w.c. 581 | ᭥

7:46am.

you flipped over onto your stomach in the cozy, satin, off-white sheets that you had bought about two weeks ago. they were incredibly comfy, yet doing nothing to help you go back to sleep.

glancing at your alarm clock seeing that it was almost 8am, you decided to get up. you sat up slowly rubbing your eyes and yawning. hearing soft snores next to you, you glance to your right seeing renjun all snuggled up in the blanket, still fast asleep.

you smile and take the opportunity to snap a quick picture of him, giggling quietly at your phone as you look at it.

you then slip out if the bed, careful not to wake him up, as you pad to the bathroom. the natural sunlight in the bathroom illuminated the room just enough to brush your teeth.

once you were done, you left your bedroom making your way to the kitchen. you decided you wanted to make breakfast for renjun this morning.

so here you wrere, scavenging your kitchen for something to make. you bit your bottom lip as you thought about a couple possibilities.

finally deciding to settle on some pancakes and fruit. you thankfully had a new box pancake mix in your cabinets and of course some fresh fruit.

warming up the stove you got everything you needed, and started cooking. you wanted to add something that would make the pancakes even better, so you opted for some cinnamon that added a nice touch.

as you cooked you hummed a soft melody, in your own peaceful little world.

8:21am

as you were flipping the fourth and final pancake, you felt arms slowly wrap around your middle, catching you a little by surprise.

“mm, g’morning,” renjun mumbles sleepily into your neck.

smiling you place your non-dominant hand over his on your waist. “morning, love, sleep well?” you ask in a light-hearted voice as you placed the now cooked pancake on your plate.

“slept great, but i wished you were there when i woke up..” he trails, his fingers aimlessly tracing small shapes on your slight exposed skin near you tummy.

you giggle slightly. “i’m sorry baby. i wanted to make breakfast for you,” you knew renjun was always the clingiest at night and when waking up, so this sort of thing was a usual occurrence.

he hummed and placed a soft kiss to the crook of your neck before sighing. “it smells so good baby,” fully leaning his body to yours from behind.

“well hopefully it tastes as good as it smells,” you say as you placed the cut up strawberries onto the plates next to the pancakes.

he reaches from under your arm, slowly trying to grab one of the strawberries off the plate. you let him and grab the syrup instead of stopping him. you hear him munching quietly in your ear.

“alright, it’s done so we can eat now,” you say straightening up.

8:31am.

you find yourselves eating your breakfast in a comfortable silence. you sat across from each other at the small table next to the window in your kitchen. your hands connected over the table.

“i love you, y/n,” he speaks up softly, keeping his eyes on you.

you look up from your plate feeling his fingers squeezing yours lovingly.

“i love you too, renjun,” you smiled fondly.

you and renjun always loved the slow quiet mornings like these. savoring them as much as you possibly could before you had to start your busy days.

—

[somerandomcockroach]

Honestly decepticon prowl

I see his brain going 'if you can be ten steps ahead, why not be at LEAST twenty steps ahead?' to himself. In a mirror.

Barricade however seems rather clueless, not listening to certain things, communications officer with soundwave, barricade is the one to send in if someone HAS to be captured, he can endure a lot of mind games and trickery and has been known to come out with information instead of whatever falsities that he gave the autobots.

Prowl is smart, rarely seen, immoral, a walking grey line that somehow got on the decepticons side (?) however they aren't sure if he is, don't know where he is to get the upper hand of it to make sure he is.

Prowl knows enough about both sides he could stall the entire war, one side gets an advantage then the other gets lucky, and if a side pisses prowl off? They start losing for a little while, not enough to make a difference, but it happens.

The autobots... kind of know barricade, all of them know the tricky decepticon, except Red Alert, who knows barricade as a traitor. Why red alert? Because it's hard for anyone how knows him to question if he's serious or not. (Kill me I love idw version of red alert)

Anyway prowl being powerful yes... but in the mind way, Shockwave hates him.. only because Prowl throws a wrench in shockwaves backup plans, somehow, someway 'barricade' is curious and is known as a bad shot, he wanders, he is known to be an olay conversation, a little boring, but barricade is okay in everyone's book but shockwave..

Okay i gotta stop there, sorry to ramble... Imma go to my snacc collection now, hope you liked the ideas! 🍬

OH OH OH okay ahah okay I, I might really like to hear any rambles about people's ideas and looks on decepticon Prowl so feel free to ramble ahah Mmm, I think in Prowl's case it isn't an exaggeration to say that he needs to count 100+ moves ahead You just made he realise that he might end up being a good liar in such sircumstances? Like I always think of him as a bad liar because his face acts unproportionally to what he says. But his face movements are so barely noticable that maybe only Jazz and Red Alert could notice them (I didn't see enough of Red Alert in idw, I need more info on him I see people loving him pfehge) Barricade being clueless because he is busy coming up with the new tactical strategies while still doing him job so he loses some things he is said to. Oh god yes you made me realise that he is also sent on interrogations to get out information, autobots could learn about Barricade from here, a chance of someone running away. OH, Prowl is some kind of mistery just like Jazz. Prowl death bringer and Jazz life bringer to neutrals. One works undercover with decepticons, other undercover with autobots to help the ones who mustn't be involved in their war. (There would have been so many facts and details that shouldn't be on the front page but ahah let it be) OH Prowl was working with Primes. He was leading operations. He was responsible for Megatron's case when he was a gladiator. He knows enough of autobots' inner info. There is just one misconception. He was a Prowl back then. I wonder how he can trick everyone to believe Prowl is dead (seems easy but he wasn't a low figure to cover it was easily) unless he just made sure everyone who was working with him fell down under Prime's fire. I wonder if he changes his painting

OH mmm yes his plans could always be on the way of Soundwave's backup plans. So far in idw I saw that 1) Shockwave sometimes acts on his own too without Megatron knowing because he looks at possibilities of the world changing from the war 2) Soundwave ending up randomly anywhere ahah Pffffffht, "What do you mean you pissed off Prowl and we lost 3 squadrons a joor ago?!?""

[pursued-by-the-squid]

ii. 'round the block

pairing: eventual gi-hun x gn!reader x in-ho

word count: 5.4k

ao3 | masterlist

“I’ll explain everything. Just let me in.” The door creaks softly, perhaps shifting under the weight of a hand being pressed to one side. “Please.”

You shake your head firmly, not that he can see it. “I don’t trust you.” You did. Really, you did, but then that businesswoman walked into your life and screwed with your head. Now you don’t know what or who to trust anymore, or if you should even be trusting yourself.

The moments tick by. Gi-hun’s presence still looms just outside. You hear his shoes on the carpet, how they quietly shh-shh when he adjusts his stance, but nothing else. Part of you – the sane part, however small it is – wonders if you should call the police.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. “I’m sorry I did. Please, let me explain.”

If he plans to explain, there’s a lot that needs answering. The mystery he wears like a second coat had been almost appealing at first, had lent itself to the fantasy of a kind stranger who plucks you from among the thorns, choosing you above all others. Some fantasy that turned out to be. You’re an idiot.

But then you peer through the spyhole in your door and catch the heavy slope of Gi-hun’s shoulders. You see his face twist with despair. You see him bow his head down to his chest, eyes squeezed shut in defeat, and your resolve falters.

You’ve never once considered him dangerous. Not the type. All that sorrow and misery, it never scared you before. If anything, it only endeared him to you more than it should have. Is it possible you’re overreacting, or that Gi-hun isn’t as terrifying as the strange businesswoman makes him appear?

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

The hope that blossoms across his face is all the proof you need, foolishly or not, and it shatters whatever resolve you still have left. “I swear to you,” he says, desperate, pleading, so, so kind and so terribly broken. “I only want to help you, [___]. Please. Let me apologize to you properly. Let me explain.”

You really hope he doesn’t secretly turn out to be an axe murderer with a penchant for charity cases.

It’s strange to see him inside your home. As long as you’ve known him, Gi-hun has been a man of the streets, coming and going without a trace. But standing among lounge chairs and your half-eaten dinner with only the light of your laptop to illuminate his face, he looks out of place. He looks taller, somehow, though you can’t imagine why. Maybe it’s the comparison of seeing him next to everyday items as opposed to, like, a tree.

The laptop goes dark a moment later and you scurry to turn on the closest light source, the little study lamp at your dining table (hardly more than a glorified TV tray, really). There’s just the one chair since no one ever comes over, so you decide to wander over to the sofa and deposit yourself there until something less awkward happens. Or he kills you. Either one.

He trails after you. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” Your cheek doesn’t sting anymore, thank goodness. Besides, it’s not your face that hurts.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

You study him carefully as he moves to sit on the far end of the sofa, as far away from you as he can manage. Your eyes dart cautiously over the bend of his fingers as they splay out atop his knee. “Will you tell me who you are?”

“That’s… not important,” he sighs. “This game that you played, that’s what matters. That’s what bothers me.”

Yeah, clearly. The dozens of missed calls and ignored texts on your phone are proof enough that Gi-hun disapproves. It’s just that you don’t understand why. If he does work with that ddakji businesswoman, why would he be upset that you interacted with her? And if he doesn’t, then why does it matter at all? And why is he dodging your questions?

He leans forward so both his hands are braced against his thighs, his face and body bowing beneath the weight of whatever strange emotions are playing across his face, things you couldn’t explain even if you tried. “Why did you play?” he asks. “Am I not giving you enough?”

So he knows, then. About the money. But more than that, he thinks that you need more from him. The whole reason you played was because the guilt of taking from him was eating you alive.

“Are you starving, that you need money that badly?”

You reply with a fierce shake of your head. “No, it’s not… That’s not why.”

“Then what?” he presses, his voice strained and gruff. His eyes, so wide and dark, seem to hold the sorrows of the entire world when he looks at you. When you hesitate to answer, he dares to shift himself closer by a few inches. The sofa cushions indent under his hands when he moves. “I have enough,” he murmurs. “If you need more–”

“I don’t.”

“Then why? Why would you endanger yourself like that?”

You don’t think about what he means. You don’t think about the implications of the question, of how much danger you’ve unknowingly put yourself in, because all you can hear is the distressed, incredulous ‘why’ that he somehow has the audacity to strike you with.

“Because I can’t keep taking your money, Gi-hun!” You’re so flustered that your brain skips right over the usual honorifics you use with him. It’s not even a thought in your mind. “I feel wrong every time you give me more, it’s like I’m using you. I hate it.”

The room is quiet for a moment, and then – “Using me?”

“I don’t do a damn thing to earn any of the money you give me. You don’t even talk to me. Every time we meet, it’s like… like a one-night stand but worse, somehow.”

At his perplexed and mildly horrified expression, you realize you’ll have to elaborate further. Exactly what you didn’t want to do.

“I’m grateful. God, I’m so, so grateful that you want to help me, Gi-hun, you have no idea.” Already, your throat is constricting with tears, tightening until it feels impossible to do anything more than breathe. It muddies the quality of your voice until you sound as pathetic and stupid as you feel. “But you throw money at me every few months and then disappear the rest of the time. Like you’re ashamed of me or something.”

Gi-hun’s entire jaw is trembling, his mouth hanging open in shock. He’s staring at you like you’ve just insulted him, his country, and God himself. “Ashamed?”

You nod. “Yeah. Or, or maybe like I’m some kind of chore you wish you could get rid of.”

“Why? Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, I guess…” You’re not even sure when the notion first came to mind, but it feels so pervasive that it’s almost like it’s always been there, lurking in the back of your head. Maybe it has. “I thought maybe you regretted wanting to help me. Or you didn’t think I deserved it anymore.”

That’s certainly true, though they’re not the real reasons behind your feelings. More like momentary doubts slipping through your thoughts when you were at your lowest this past year, driven by your own insecurities and self-loathing. No, the truth is –

“I’ve thought about staying. I wanted to anyways, but then you offered to help me if that’s what I wanted, and I started thinking about all the things I could do, stuff I wanted to buy for the apartment, extra things that I don’t need. Things I should be working for myself instead of leeching off of you to get them. And I feel awful for it because you’ve been so kind to me and I don’t even know you, but you saved my fucking life, Gi-hun. You got me back on my feet when I had nothing and you won’t even let me talk to you long enough to say thanks.” You sniffle, messily wiping your nose with the palm of your hand. “When that woman approached me and told me I could make money, I felt so relieved. Like I could finally buy myself the things I want without feeling like I’ve betrayed you somehow. Without feeling like I’m the greediest, most selfish, most horrible person alive for wanting to take whatever you give me.”

After nearly a year of being made to feel, however unintentionally, that you’re little more than a distant thought in the head of a man with far more important things to do, Gi-hun touches you. Not for the first time. Your fingers have brushed once or twice before in the exchanging of cash, but it is the first time he touches you without a scowl on his face, his eyes alight with an apology he doesn’t seem to know how to speak aloud. His thumbs move soothing semi-circles over the back of both your hands.

“Promise me you’ll never play ddakji again.”

You’re quick to nod your agreement, even if it is a bizarre request. “I won’t. I promise. Just… why? Who was that woman?”

Gi-hun’s mouth twists into a grimace. “It’s complicated,” he says.

“So uncomplicate it.” You’ve decided to be incredibly foolish and let this man into your home; the least he can do is answer a few questions. “At least tell me you’re not part of some weird drug ring, gang thing.”

One of his brows arches curiously at you. “Is that really what you think?”

“I don’t know what to think.” You certainly hope that he’s not a deranged criminal, but you’d have no way of knowing even if he was. That’s the problem. “You never tell me anything. I don’t know anything about you, I just know you have a lot of money and you’re nice to me, and it… it doesn’t make sense.”

He chews on that for a minute, his eyes unfocused and distant. You can only imagine what he’s thinking. You can only imagine who he really is.

“The less you know,” he finally says, “the safer you’ll be.”

Ugh, is this man actually the most stubborn human alive? That’s not even a real answer. Are his actions truly so terrible that he has to hide his connections to you to avoid… what, exactly? What kind of people would come after you simply because of your arrangement? And why?

Gi-hun frowns when you ask. “The ddakji woman. She’s just a small part of a larger scheme that I’ve been trying to take down for the past year. She’s dangerous, [___], and anyone like her is dangerous too.”

“But why is she dangerous? What scheme? What does that even mean?”

His teeth flash pale white in the lamplight. “Just trust me.”

“I-! I’m trying to. But you won’t tell me anything. How can I trust you when I know you’re keeping things from me?”

“Aish,” he mutters as he suddenly moves to his feet, pacing back and forth in the small confines of the room. His jaw is wired shut, the muscles tensing beneath his skin. There’s an explanation in there somewhere, you’re sure of it, but he refuses to give it to you and you just wish he would help you to understand why.

Some hopeless part of you longs to reach for him. “Gi-hun-ssi–”

His head snaps so he’s gazing at you over his shoulder with that inscrutable intensity of his. “You don’t have to call me that.”

“What, your name?”

This time he shakes his head. “Not Gi-hun-ssi. Just… Just Gi-hun.”

That might actually be a stranger request than the one about ddakji. It feels wrong not to include an honorific. “But isn’t that rude?”

It takes a moment to find it in the low light, but you catch the slight curl of his mouth, the barest hint of a smile. “Not between friends.” He crosses the room again and sits, this time closer to you than ever before, albeit still at a respectable distance. One of his hands finds one of yours. “And as your friend, I want to keep you safe.”

It’s enough to leave you breathless.

This is so much more than you ever anticipated from him. He keeps things so close to his chest that every bit of information you have of him has been patiently pried from his grasp and preserved in the smallest chamber of your heart, yet now your head is reeling. You’re friends. Friends.

“Why?” Why does he choose to call you his friend? Why does he care so deeply? Why you? Just… why?

Gi-hun swallows heavily. “Because I’ve lost too many friends already.” And the silent but sturdy implication is that he will not lose you as well.

Dreams are funny things. Gi-hun used to dream a lot more when he was a kid. He’d dream about making lots and lots of money and moving out of Ssanmung-dong, somewhere fancier where all the rich people live with their nice apartments and designer clothes. Sometimes he’d dream about kissing the pretty girl in his grade who made his stomach feel funny. Sometimes he’d dream about stealing sweets and sharing them with Jung-bae. But it’s been a long time since he’s dreamt of anything nice.

Now, if he dreams at all, he only sees blood and bone and regret that counts itself in multiples of 456. It’s just that he’s never dreamt of you before. Yet he wakes up the next morning realizing he’s done exactly that. The memory of your bloodied face and body pierced with the same bullets that killed his fellow players is so haunting that he finds the image seared into his retinas. He’d tried to save you. He’d failed. It sticks with him the entire day.

He sends Jeong-rae and his men off to the subway, his phone burning in his hand the entire time because the weight of your discussion last night is like an anchor around his neck. You won’t even let me talk to you long enough to say thanks. He thinks about every time you’ve tried to goad him into talking, tried to extend your meetings like he’s tried to stretch out the few minutes he once had allotted with Ga-yeong, all while he’s been fighting to keep your interactions as brief and impersonal as possible.

I don’t even know anything about you.

He thinks about the painfully boring reports Jeong-rae gives him at the end of every night – ‘[___]’s done for the night. Safe & sound.’; ‘Quiet night in, no sign of anyone following us.’; ‘Stayed up late again tonight. Does this kid do anything other than study?’ – and then he thinks that he’s probably the biggest idiot to ever come out of Ssanmung-dong.

You’re lonely. He’s been too miserable and too terrified of getting another innocent person killed to see it.

His thumbs type out the first thing that comes to him, inspired by something you’d said in passing and full of typos because his hands are shaking too much – ‘You don’t need my permission to buy something you want. The money is yours.’ He honestly expects you to ignore it, or to question him further. Or to never speak to him again, even if he keeps trying to give you money. He wouldn’t blame you for wanting to back out after how he handled things.

‘I don’t want to disappoint you.’

Somehow, you keep managing to surprise him.

‘It doesn’t matter to me what you buy. Just take care of yourself.’ It’s curious how easily the sentiment comes to him.

If you were anyone else, spending the money would feel wrong. If you were anyone else, maybe he wouldn’t still be offering. But there’s something of his friends in you – the naivety of an expat in a strange new world, the hard-earned and innate distrust of anything kind that dares to help you, the sharp and curious glimmer of intelligence in your starlit eyes – and, well, Gi-hun has never been able to leave well enough alone. Even when he knows better.

And he does know better. The unconscious memory of a bullet lodged between your brain tissue and your skull comes to him  when he tries to eat dinner, and again when he receives the final notice of the day. The recruiter is nowhere to be found and you are safe in your apartment, but it doesn’t feel safe. Every time he breathes, he wonders if you’re still alive. Has the recruiter found you? Has the Game Master found you? Are you dead? Did he kill you?

Sang-woo’s face and bulging neck swim before his eyes. You have to help her.

Sae-byok, with her freckled constellations and her dark, wet blood. I need you to swear that you'll look after him.

He digs the meat of his hands into his eye sockets until it hurts.

It’s not enough. Paying for your tuition isn’t going to keep you safe. He thinks of the chipped mug you left out on your dinner tray last night, still half full, and the wilted plant by the window, and then he thinks about how easily you were targeted, how, if things had been worse, he wouldn’t have been able to save you in time. Just like his dream. Just like Sae-byok. Just like all of them.

He needs to try harder. Send out more men, search for longer hours, maybe even extend his investigation beyond the train stations. You were approached at a bus stop. Anything could have happened. He won’t let it happen again.

Gi-hun doesn’t sleep more than an hour or two that night, his brain too busy and his body too restless to allow him a moment of rest. He gives Jeong-rae new orders – if only the little boy he’d been in the military all those years ago could see him now, what he’s become, what he’s willing to do – and then he makes the decision. He crosses the line he’s been denying himself since he met you.

He cares.

“Take this with you wherever you go,” he says when he presses the taser into your palm.

You stare at it like you might stare at a grenade with the pin pulled out. “I’ve never had to use one before,” you admit in halting increments.

He shows you how.

“You should get a second lock on your door,” he suggests the next time you go out for food. Finals are finished for the term and you’re ravished. You haven’t been taking care of yourself like you should be, he suspects, so he treats you to something nice. It’s not blood money when it’s you.

You’re not entirely opposed to the idea, but neither are you eager to accept it. Something about the lease agreement and rules about modifications or renovations means that it’s technically not allowed. He can’t blame you for your hesitancy, especially when you still don’t know exactly what it is you’re meant to be protecting yourself from, but he isn’t going to allow you to endanger yourself more than you already have in his complacency.

Still, Gi-hun isn’t entirely without reason. You make such a fuss about the lease agreement that he goes out and buys an assortment of non-permanent security items for your front and bedroom doors. He makes you promise to use them.

It’s what what he would have done for his mother, for little Kang Cheol, for his precious daughter who lives an ocean away. Gi-hun lost the right to care for them a long time ago. But he can care for you here and now in the sad and tormented way that he does, and maybe, just maybe, he can earn his penance.

It is, perhaps, not his best plan, but there’s a sort of freedom that comes with playing the fool. In-ho wonders briefly if it’s the sort of freedom 456 once enjoyed, maybe in the years before his turn in the arena. The thought lingers for a moment and then is gone, dismissed in the blink of an eye when he sees the first student rushing outside.

This is your last class of the day, so he only has about fifteen minutes of play before you’re rushing off to the bus stop. The time is more than ample. A lot can happen in fifteen minutes, a lot can happen in just five. It’ll be interesting to see which offers more reward.

He’s just taking another sip from his lukewarm coffee when you appear. The weather is much colder today than it was the week before, so you’re bundled head to toe, your breath puffing around your face as you meander down the steps. He moves on instinct. It’s almost like being back in the arena, like being back in that final Game with his life and 45.6 billion won on the line. How curious that he feels that familiar spike of adrenaline now, of all times.

Your paths intersect at the foot of the stairs. You’re going one way and he’s going the other, and In-ho’s cup, now suddenly lidless, tips down the front of your coat as he passes. “Oh. Oh, I – I am so sorry. Are you alright?” His hands hover uselessly above your shoulders in some vague attempt to offer assistance.

You’re too taken aback by the liquid seeping down your chest to notice the way he’s watching you, waiting for you to act. Curiosity has been eating away at him since he first saw the footage of you playing with the recruiter. Who are you? What is it about you that sets you apart from the masses, that calls to Seong Gi-hun’s bleeding heart?

“Shit,” you mutter, low enough that he might not have heard it if he wasn’t listening so closely. You’re trying to brush yourself dry. How quaint. “Ah, I… I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s okay.”

In-ho studies the way your mouth wrinkles when you grimace. “I didn’t burn you, did I?”

This time, relief flashes across your face. When you finally look up to meet his eyes, he finds you smiling. A real, genuine smile. “No. You didn’t. Thank goodness.” He sees the gears turning in your head as you take him in, inclining your head politely as he’s sure you do to all your elders and superiors. “I’m sorry if I got in your way, sir. I wasn’t paying attention.”

One of his hands reaches for your elbow, not fully touching but brushing lightly over your sleeve. “Please,” he starts with all the thoughtfulness of the kind and gentle man he once was, “let me make it up to you.” The words are vile and repulsive on his tongue.

Already you’re waving him away, and that simply won’t do. “Oh, no, that’s alright. It’s not that big a deal, I promise.”

“It is to me. Please.” He starts rummaging through his coat pockets, purposefully tripping over his own hands and spilling a bit of coffee on himself in the process. The coffee cup is deposited onto the floor so he can shake his fingers dry, and then, “Here. Buy yourself a new coat. I think I may have ruined yours.”

And oh, how charming it is to see your eyes go wide with disbelief. He doesn’t get to see such carefree expressions during the Games. Everyone is always so horror-stricken, so bereaved – that or they’re too bloodthirsty to feel much of anything, so this is an adjustment. Unexpected, yes, but surprisingly welcome. He presses further.

“How am I supposed to apologize if you won’t accept this?”

Your lips part slightly. “Oh. No, I don’t, uh… I don’t need the money.” Carefully, you tap your fingers against his hand and push the offered money against his chest. “I forgive you, really.”

Where was this humble spirit when his recruiter approached you? You had been so eager for money that you’d won three separate times, and that was only a day after 456 had gifted you several hundred thousand won. In fact, you’d been so eager that In-ho had actually thought he stood a chance at getting you into this year’s games. What a triumph that would have been.

As disappointed as he still is not to have recruited you, he can’t help thinking that perhaps this is the better path to take. He can pick you apart himself this way rather than merely watching others do it from a distance.

“I’m sorry, but I really have to go catch my bus.”

He nods. “Of course. My apologies again.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a cheery smile.

He doesn’t follow you to the bust stop. He doesn’t need to. Instead, he drives himself to your apartment complex and waits in the parking lot across the street, perusing the borrowed files he’s brought with him. You’re an international student, though he could tell that based solely on your Korean; some of the vowels don’t sit right in your mouth. You have a full schedule, dabble in a few clubs when you have the spare time, and you live alone, which certainly makes things easier. A review of your recruitment video shows that you’re decent enough at ddakji, although it’s possible your winnings are the result of beginner’s luck. You’re a bit wary of strangers too, which is ironic considering how often you’ve been meeting with 456 of late.

These are social visits, plain and simple, but even more than that, he can see the way you smile in the security camera snapshots, how your eyes light up when Gi-hun comes to meet you. You’re infatuated. Even if you weren’t obvious about it (and you are), he would recognize the look of it anywhere. Whether Gi-hun can recognize it for himself or not is a different matter entirely.

In-ho waits until your bus comes to drop you off. He studies you from the shade of a tree, his coffee-stained coat left in the car so he isn’t immediately recognizable. You dawdle about for a minute or two, scrolling through your phone, before finally disappearing inside the building, and the cigarette he’d lit is put out a moment later, just in time for the alert on his own mobile to chirp from his trouser pocket. He smiles to himself. The live feed of your modest little kitchen/dining nook/sitting area is coming through without a hitch, as he knew it would.

The first thing you do is start pulling off your coat, already muttering to yourself under your breath, though the microphone is far enough away and you are quiet enough that it doesn’t pick up. Are you cursing his name, he wonders, or are you wishing you’d taken the money?

Either way, it’s no matter. He’ll have further opportunities to test you in the coming weeks, and by then he’ll have figured out exactly how to weaponize Gi-hun’s attachment to you.

“Gamsahabnida, Professor, I’ll see you next week.”

You’re glad you decided to stick around after class and chat – the clarification on your most recent assignment still turning over in your head as you meander into the hallway – but you’ve missed your bus in doing so. Since the next one won’t be coming for another half hour and you’ve already worked up a bit of an appetite, it seems the most logical choice to postpone your journey home and head for the cafeteria. Maybe you’ll swing by the library afterward, there’s a book that you think might help with your essay–

“Pardon me.”

You’re not fully paying attention to the people around you, so the voice takes you by surprise. Casting a glance over your shoulder only shows the half-obscured face of a tall gentleman in a dark coat as he attempts to walk around you. You dart to the side of the hallway so he has enough room to pass, but there’s something familiar about him that has you stealing a second, then a third glance, and not even discreetly. The line of his profile, the remarkably distinct voice – it’s the coffee man!

You don’t intend to say anything to him. You’re content enough to let him continue about his life without even knowing you exist, but it seems that the blatant turn of your head in his direction (three incredibly embarrassing times) has caught his eye. He pauses just a few paces behind you, his fancy dress shoes clicking lightly against the floor, and then he turns. You know because his voice isn’t distorted when he speaks to you.

“I remember you,” he huffs, and you think you can hear a smile teasing along the edges of the statement. You confirm it a moment later when you turn to face him.

“Who, me?”

The man nods. “I spilled my coffee on you last week, I believe.” And a bit of pride flares up in your chest for recognizing him, for being so quickly recognized in return.

“Ah, that’s why you looked so familiar!” Yeah, totally pretend you didn’t just do a triple take.

Coffee man tips his head back as he looks at you, a weight to his gaze that you nearly miss because a lock of his hair chooses that moment to fall perfectly over his temple. “How’s your jacket? You didn’t have to replace it, I hope.”

“Oh, no. It came out in the wash without any trouble. But I appreciate your concern,” and truly, you do. It’s sweet of him to care that much about somebody else’s troubles, no matter how minuscule. Strange, yes, but sweet too.

The conversation sags there, too polite to press forward and too casual to probe deeper, so it only ends up feeling awkward as the silence begins to stretch between you. You both dart around the idea of eye contact, though he seems more prone to it than you are. Right. This is… fun.

You clear your throat. “Well, it was nice to see you again. Thank you for not spilling coffee on me again.”

You make to leave, but he beats you to it with a tentative step forward. “Are you in a rush?”

That depends, you muse, though you make an effort to appear personable on the outside. “Not exactly. Why?”

“I’ve been trying to find a particular classroom, but I think I’ve gotten myself turned around. Would you mind…?”

A quick glance at your phone tells you that you have the necessary time if you postpone your bus by an additional 30 minutes, which you suppose isn’t that bad in the grand scheme of things. Besides, it would be rude to turn him down if he’s lost. You’d hate to receive the same treatment if you were in his shoes.

“Sure. Which room were you looking for?”

Coffee man’s smile catches a bit of the overhead lighting, bright and inviting. “I can’t remember the number,” he admits, “but the professor’s name was Lee.”

“That could be a lot of our professors.” There are at least two in your department and others have up to three or four, according to campus gossip. “Do you know their first name? Or the class they teach? I might be able to look it up for you.”

It’s an incredible stroke of luck that the very instructor he’s searching for is the one you’ve just left. The timing is perfect – if he’d arrived any sooner or later than you, he might have missed the classroom entirely. “It’s just down there,” you say, pointing your arm in the direction you’ve just come from. “Number 103, on the left. He should still be in there, but I think he’s getting ready to leave, so you might want to be quick.”

As if it hadn’t already occurred to him that your professor might also want to go home for the afternoon, coffee man checks his watch with a flick of his wrist, his mouth tilting into a slight frown. “Perhaps I should come back another time.”

“He’s usually pretty flexible if it’s an emergency,” you start, but you never get the chance to explain further. Coffee man is already dismissing you with a wave of his hand and a pleasing smile, assuring you that it can wait, whatever it is.

“I’d rather not inconvenience him,” he says. “But thank you for your help just the same, uh…?”

“Oh.” Your hand finds purchase in his. “[___].”

And when he smiles, you find yourself thinking that it’s a rather nice one. “Young-il.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Young-il-nim.”

He nods politely. “Likewise.” You end up missing the next three buses, but for once, the inconvenience doesn’t bother you because you spend most of that time getting acquainted with one of the most fascinating people you’ve had the pleasure of meeting in a very long time.

[secrectlyicky]

Could you write legoshi with a breeding kink and he just loves filling all of readers holes

ruts & such

kind of these 3 asks, rushed the end a bit but we here

tw: rut, breeding, unrealistic amounts of cum, knotting, belly bulge, oral knotting, spit, cumflaition, licking (sorry this is so nasty:( 

legoshi is a true freak and one of his favorite things is to stuff you as full as possible. especially during his rut.

in all the time you've been with legoshi, he's never let you near him during his rut. hell, he even leaves your shared apartment for the few days, spending them at the one he bought across the city. 

except this time, you’d be away for a girls trip during his rut, so you both decided it’d be fine if he stays there. all is well until one of your friends get awfully sick and you have no choice but to end the trip early. 

however, in all the fuss of taking care of her and the chaotic flight home, you never got the chance to call him about it. it all hits you when the front door locks behind you and you freeze. the apartment is dark and the ac is seemingly on high. some of your clothes strewn across the couch and some on the floor. 

you think of turning around and leaving, opting to stay somewhere else for now, but part of you knows he already knows you're here. your eyes stay trained on your bedroom door, it slightly cracked open but too dark to see inside. 

the moment you take a step forward, the door is pulled open and you see his brooding frame and dark eyes. he looks bigger than usual, clad in nothing but a pair of tattered boxers. his claws and fangs bared. your eyes lock with his and he growls, turning around and shutting the door behind him.

“go away, y/n.” you can hear him panting, his words having a hard time coming out. with a sigh, you walk closer to the door, hearing him growl before you come to a stop. opting to tell him what happened, but you figured he wouldn't care let alone comprehend any of it right now. 

you contemplate leaving, but decide against it. you've always wanted to be able to help him out, so now's your chance. bracing yourself, you move towards the door. you can hear him stumbling back, muffled groans filling the room as your scent begins to take over his mind. 

“i can help you, oshi.” you say softly, the smell of him and even stronger scent of his arousal seeping from behind the closed door. “you shouldn't.” he snarls, the last thing he wanted was to accidentally hurt you. 

“but i want to. will you let me?” silence falls for a moment before you push the door open. blinking as your eyes adjust, you see him on the floor in the corner. some article of clothing pressed against his nose, his dick in his hand and cum on his thighs. his eyes reach yours and he groans. 

within a second he's on you, your back pressed to the wall as he stands over you. looking up at him with no room to move, saliva spilling from between his jaws. the way he looks at you would scare anyone, but it only furthered your need to let him have his way with you. 

“i-i won't be able to stop.” you nod before he even finishes his sentence, thinking you're more than prepared for him. his eyes bore into yours, asking for confirmation one more time before your arms come up around him, pulling him into a hasty kiss. his hands immediately tearing off your clothes. 

the way his claws graze your skin and his tongue marks its territory in your mouth has you clenching your thighs. his lips move to your neck, leaving harsh marks as he lifts you. only pulling away to toss you onto the bed which is bare of the sheets and covered in your clothes. 

he latches onto your neck again, groaning when your hands run through his fur. the weight of him on top of you and the feeling of his hot, leaky length rubbing against your thigh making the heat in you nearly unbearable. he makes his way down your body, eagerly nipping at your nipples as he pushes two fingers into your mouth. 

running them over your tongue before pushing down, listening to you gag on them. his other hand tugging and pinching on your other nipple before switching. his tongue trails down your body, pulling his fingers from your lips to your lower ones. 

he works you open, just barely before he's too impatient and licks his fingers clean. he glides in with no hesitation, stopping when he bottoms out. your eyes roll back, swearing he's bigger than usual. his large hand comes up to your middle, resting over the bulging head beneath your skin. 

he pants, spit pooling in his mouth before he leans up, grabbing your jaw and forcing your mouth open. watching the way his saliva drips, landing on your tongue before eagerly swallowing. a growl leaves him before he starts a relentless pace, desperate to fill your heat. 

the bed creaks loudly, low snarls and whiny moans filling the room. his palm pushes down on your abdomen, the feeling only make you clench around him more. he looks down at you as he drives his cock in and out, a look in his eyes you've never seen before. 

before you know it, you've came four times. his knot throbbing as it repeatedly smacks against your cunt. your voice is raspy as you beg him to finally do it, which takes no convincing from him before he pulls out nearly all the way. the stretch of his knot enough to make you cum around him again. 

your eyes go wide before you squeeze them shut, your nails stabbing into his skin but it goes unnoticed as his seed fills your womb to the brim. he grinds his hips against you, his bulbous tip hitting just the right spots over and over. you think he's finished when he groans loudly, pulling his knot from your sopping hole. 

just to open your eyes and see his length right in your face. his weight hovering above your chest as he straddles your shoulders. he strokes himself, an almost sadistic grin on his lips, his fangs bared in the dark lighting. knowing what he wants, your lips part, taking his tip between them. 

he fucks your throat like a toy, his hands gripping your hair as he fills your throat with load after load. your mind grows hazy and your breathing is shallow as you swallow everything he gives you. drunk on his taste, you tug him closer and he holds your head down. bucking up, his knot slips between your lips. 

the ache in your jaw is unforgiving, but the heat of his length on your tongue and the taste of his cum was enough for you to keep going. your tongue runs over his knot and his abdomen clenches as he fills your throat for the nth time before pulling out. 

his knot aching and a fiery red as he moves back down your body, his lips on yours. even through the rush of his heat, mumbled praises leave him as he looks down at you before he flips you over. his large paws lifting your hips and spreading your cheeks. 

he eats you out like a man starved, his tongue prodding and poking in places you've never felt. your hole puckers at the feeling and the sloppy, wet noises fills the room before he caves, pulling away and lining himself up. your hands ball up the fabric beneath you, but your minds too far gone to even know what you're holding. 

the stretch has your eyes watering and you lift your head to look at him, “o-oshi, i can't-”. his hand pushes your face back into the bed as he bottoms out, his knot pushing inside in one thrust. ropes and ropes of hot, sticky cum fill you up again. it's hot and you feel full, hyperaware of just how much of him he spilled inside. his movements finally come to a stop after a moment.

he wraps his arms around your, laying down and pulling you close. one hand on your hip and the other on your stomach. he stays buried inside you, panting as he presses kisses to your face before licking the sweat from your skin. his tongue moves from your jaw to behind your ears then to your neck.

he growls softly, rubbing his snout into your skin before baring his fangs again and marking you. it's more pleasurable than painful and has you clenching around him again as your eyes roll back. your body shudders before relaxing again, pulling you closer as he licks over the mark. 

his hands rubbing your belly that's slightly round with his seed. the sight has his mind reeling with the thought of you pregnant with his pups. a shaky breath leaves him as he twitches inside of you. your eyes flutter shut before you can acknowledge his movements picking up again. but you wake up later, tummy even more full and your cunt plugged with his length. soft breaths hitting your neck before you're out again.

[medicinemane]

.

[diari0deglierrori]

Maybe. Perhaps. I may not be going as well as I thought I was/would. Like it’s probably less worse because of some things but it’s still not ideal