#like that shirt is vacuum sealed to him baby

[stillalittlelostngl]

Gojos new fits got me kicking my feet and gigglin

[kechiwrites]

decided to break it

toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader

part 4/?

synopsis: babies change everything, and neither you, nor simon handle change very well at all.

wc: 2.2k

cw: afab!reader, angst, hurt with no comfort, language, break up fic, abandonment issues, no gendered language, discussions and depictions of pregnancy. no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: im back <3, more tomorrow, or perhaps later tonight if i feel up to formatting on this hell site. for kitten, shia, nori, 👩🏿‍🍼 anon, and everyone else who cheered me up when i felt super down post-holidays

new to baby blue? start here.

"Fuck." You murmur, maybe for the fourth time since the 15 minute timer had gone off on your phone. The word doesn’t seem heavy enough to sum up how you’re feeling, but you give it a few more tries anyway, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The word 'pregnant', however, is the heaviest you’ve ever seen, latching onto your limbs and skin and dragging you to the floor beneath you. ‘Pregnant’ stares you in the face from the stick in your shaking hands, punctuated with a little smiley face you can barely see through tears. In the back of your mind you kind of wished you'd gotten the kind with the little ambiguous pink lines, just so you could pretend you didn't understand what two lines instead of one meant. Just for a little bit. Alas, the pharmacist recommended the slightly more expensive test, the kind that gives you a week estimate. The kind that tells you you've been fucked for 3-4 weeks now.

Every emotion you'd been feeling up until then cedes to white hot panic. It's hard to breathe in your little blue bathroom.

You wonder what he'll say. 

No. 

You dread what he’ll say. 

It’s nothing you two have ever talked about, not in the cold blackness of night, when he’d sat in your arms with his face bare to you and murmured every gory detail of his upbringing to you and not a goddamn therapist. Not the following morning when you’d sobbed your terror of the future, and losing everything you had into his lap. And certainly not when you had mutually decided you were “getting serious”.

And now you have to. You have to tell Simon you’re pregnant.

There's a pit in your stomach when he comes by that night, mask off and eyes warm, considering like they always are. You get swept up in how it feels to be near him, to have him crowd into your space, soaking your senses in his scent, his warmth. He kisses you gently, so soft it makes you want to cry. He used to say he wasn't capable of being like that. Not with you. Not with anyone. 

Instead of sobbing into his chest like you’re desperate to, you chide him about wearing his boots in the house. You take the time he needs to unlace them to memorize what being with him feels like in this moment, the last time things will be easy. 

He levers up and nudges his boots over to yours, where they sit side by side. Tears choke your voice again, and you’re praying it’s just a pregnancy thing rather than a ‘you being an unstable wreck’ thing.

“Sit.” You turn to the kitchen, setting your kettle on the stove and turning the knob to high. He hunkers down on the worn cream leather of your couch. You linger in front of your stovetop as long as you can, fussing with the mug Simon uses almost always, an ugly misshapen pink thing you’d made at a beginner ceramics class four years ago. It’s chipped at the lip, rose coloured glaze cracked, exposing the beige clay underneath it. Your hand glances over boxes of tea, back and forth over colourful labels that may as well be written in gibberish for all the luck you're having reading them. 

It feels like there's no air in the room, like the secret under your t-shirt is taking it all, vacuum sealing your room until your chest burns and your head feels like it's going to pop. You tear open a brand new box of earl grey, stuffing it back onto your shelf when the tea bag is sat securely in the cup. 

"What's wrong?” He grouses from the couch, and it’s only then that you realize your shoulders are hunched up around your ears. 

“I..” your stomach rolls and sweat begins to bead on your forehead. You can hear him stir in his seat behind you, shifting forward so he can peer at you from your living room. Saliva gathers in your mouth, and oh god, maybe you actually will throw up, it’s too early for morning sickness right? Unless the stupid tests were wrong and now you’re going to cover your countertops in the stew you had for lun-

“Hey.” Simon is standing behind you now, his hands gripping your shoulders, shaking you lightly until you whip around to face him. The kettle is screaming now, filling your home with that shrill, high shriek of steam from the boiling water whistling through the appliance's tiny spout. 

Somehow it’s still quieter than your pulse pounding in your ear.

“I’m pregnant.” You choke out, if only to stop yourself from retching over Simon’s socked feet. God, it’s like time stops, then it splits and cracks in clean halves. Into before and after he knew. Before and after his concerned expression crumbled into disbelief, before and after he schooled that disbelief into placid nothingness. And it’s not like you’d entertained the delusion that he’d be happy about it. But the silent hang time before he reacts is this terrible, hollow, unknown that tears up your insides and relishes in the shiny, red viscera. 

A gruff, quiet "Are you sure?" is what you get from him, when he finally recovers, and you try so hard not to let it bother you. It's a shock. A surprise. A loud bang in the middle of a serene night, a cannon going off in your face, a gunshot into the sky when you thought the race was an hour from starting. 

You try to give him a bit of grace. Still, the pit in your stomach grows.

Now it's a bit of a sinkhole.

"Baby, I wouldn't be telling you if I wasn't sure." You move to snag your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, to tug him close so you can hold each other, support each other, but he take a small step backwards, letting his palms slip from your shoulders. 

The sinkhole is a cavern, yawning wide, open and empty. 

You toss your hope and love inside.

“I need…some time.” He mutters, slinking out of your space, out of the kitchen and back into your entryway. 

'Time to fucking what?' you think, but hold back. You know Simon. You love Simon. And you remember where he's come from. What he's come from. You realize a second too late you should be following him, and when you stumble over the kitchen threshold, he’s tying up his boots, his broad back facing you. You try to peer around him, try to get a look at his face, desperate to gauge where he’s at. But when you notice he’s knocked your shoes over in his scramble to get away, to be anywhere but here, you stop moving..

“Y-yeah. Okay. Just..uh, get back to me soon okay?” you stutter, and wrap your arms around yourself, like you know Simon won't. Not with the way his hands are shaking. 

He doesn’t even respond this time. 

The soldier just stands. He opens your front door. And walks out. Leaving you in your entryway. Water past its boiling point in the kettle.

You don’t see him again until you’re four, nearly five months along, the bump under your clothes now impossible to hide. When you stumble into your home, exhausted from working, he’s in your living room. Sitting there in his mask at your tiny dining room table. Like no time has passed at all. Like he should be there. You realize you never did get your spare house key back.

“Get out.” you spit, blood boiling under your skin. 

"I know you're upset-" He begins, like he’s about to deliver a practiced speech.

"Get the fuck out!" Your tone is caustic, and you hope it burns him, hope it strips off all the facade on the rotting structure he is underneath.

"I never meant to leave it so long. This." He won't even say it. Can't even refer to you, let alone your baby. He stands up and becomes this big, dark mass in the bright space of your living room, black mask, black shirt, black boots, just a huge black hole that sucks up every good feeling you’d had in his absence, every ray of light that’d shone through the dark gloom he’d left behind. Nothing escapes his pull. 

He peers at you from the gap in his mask. The stark white skull stretched over his face mocks you, maliciously whispers in your ear; ‘Did you think you knew him? That he was honest with you? Open to you?’

And you had. You did. You thought you were making progress, building some semblance of a future, falling in love.

It makes you sick to your stomach to think of it.

"You want to apologize, take the fucking mask off Simon." Your voice breaks, and part of you hopes he hears it for the plea it is. Hopes he understands what you’re asking of him. Hopes he feels how bad you missed him, under the hurt and pain and bitter, bitter loneliness. If he would just take it off, just pull the stupid fabric over his face and show you he was still yours under there, that he’d make a mistake and he’s ready now, then maybe the two of you could fix it. This.

Instead, his silence, his stillness cracks open your ribcage and pours black ink over your heart.

Humiliation and anger simmer on your tongue. What comes next is shockingly easy. "Oh you can't do it, huh? Can't be a fucking person with me, huh?" You shove at his chest, and he takes it, staring at you with pain in his eyes. Like this is hurting him.

"I shouldn't have waited so long, but I-" he steps towards you and it feels so good to rip away from his touch. To step back from his advance.

"No!” You shout, and your face is so hot, skin ablaze with righteous anger. “Shut up! Three months? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

And yes, one month of that was deployment, you’d known that, you’d talked about it, together. One month of no contact. One month of sand and heat and blood. But the other two months had been that white hot panic you'd felt on your own, in that tiny bathroom with the peeling blue wallpaper he'd promised he'd help you strip and replace. The other months had been missed calls, and ignored texts and you getting bigger under your sweaters because unlike him, you couldn't just take a break from the situation.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” You shove past him, deeper into your home, spinning around so he’s closer to your entryway than you are. “Don’t you ever show your face here again, do you hear me?” You’re screaming now, much to Ghost’s visible discomfort. Good. You hope your nosy ass neighbours call the cops. You hope they physically remove his pathetic ass. You hope they embarrass him. (It isn’t very likely, of course. But God, could you dream).

“You can't just keep it from me.” He steps closer and you lament that he has you on the backfoot. It’s your space, your home and yet it feels as though you’re the one who’s out of place, off kilter and uncomfortable. You glare at him. 

“It’s mine too.”

‘It’ he says, and that bothers you. Irks you. Him calling your baby an ‘it’. 

“Give me a fucking break, it wasn’t yours when you left me, you couldn’t wait to get your sorry ass out of here when I told you. Now you wanna play daddy? I don’t fucking think so.” You dig your fingernails into the meat of your palms, leaving aching crescents in their wake. 

“And you know what? Maybe it’s my fault for wanting to be with someone who is so fundamentally fucking broken that he couldn’t fucking bear to show me his goddamn face until I’d begged him. Maybe I’m the idiot for thinking you could ever be capable of love, of decency. I needed you. And you abandoned me, Simon. You are a fucking monster.” 

The word hangs in the air, hovering between the two of you where it can’t be taken back, and it sure as hell can’t be forgotten.

“You are good at distancing yourself, you are good at killing your feelings. Keep doing that. Stay the fuck away from me and my kid.” You’re panting when you finish, and everything hurts, one of your hands is bleeding, your eyelids prickle with the pain of unshed tears, your throat feels strained and tight. He nods once, jerky and quick, before he takes an unbalanced step back. Then another and another, his eyes never leaving yours, like he’s looking for something, anything other than hurt and hatred.

But there’s nothing else to find.

He turns, opening your front door and trudging out, heavy footfalls bracketing short moments of gut wrenching silence. It feels final. But it doesn’t feel good. Not like you thought it might.

He’s halfway into his SUV when you scramble out your front door, shouting over your porch railing to him in your driveway. “And get rid of my fucking keys!” He stares at you, standing stockstill, before he gets in the driver’s seat and pulls away.

whew, nice to post ghosty-poo again

series masterlist here

support city girls, reblog what u like

[thepeelucof87]

when the skin literally looks vacuum sealed to the muscle i feel like im watching a sick animal who is mistreating you

nursing you back to health like a baby bird its okay itll get better

oh and extra crime: vacuum sealed clothes over vacuum sealed muscles,

whys that shirt sticking to him like that.. who did that to him

[gaiuswrites]

Ashore

Part one | Open Waters

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader

Summary: You and Frankie leave the beach with only one thing on your minds.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3.6k~

Warnings/tags: smut, ✨butt stuff✨, oral (f receiving), some lovey-dovey shit

Notes: Here we are friends. You don’t necessarily have to read Open Waters to understand the contents of this chapter (considering it’s mostly just booty bumpin’). You can thank heathens @javierpcna and @whataperfectwasteoftime for the debauchery to follow. It’s been a while since I’ve written and I’m genuinely nervous to post this lol but alas. We have arrived. Is it shit? Is it pure filth? Who’s to say hehehe. Cheers bebes x

Masterlist | read it on ao3!

The worst part was, you had to get gas.

Frankie drives. You sit beside him.

The return trip is hushed with anticipation—with sullied stain-glass imagery occupying the void. You've said next to nothing since you packed into the car; the only noise comes from the radio—the preset station phasing in and out as you wind along the backroads leading away from the shore—Journey, Jimi, Led Zep and the like all crackling dry through the speakers.

Everything, each micro-movement, feels stifling— like burning ants under a magnifying glass— each gesture riddled with intention, Frankie’s words echoing clear in the caverns of your mind.

He glances left right at an intersection.

‘Anything?’

He flips on the turn signal, blinking one two one two one two.

‘You gonna let me have your tight little ass?’

He steers the wheel with the heel of his palm.

‘When I cum, it’s gonna be here—filling you up.’

The engine rumbles as you idle at a red light—stalling. Dawdling. The sun spills lazily from the horizon, draining the last of the afternoon’s light with it, bleeding the sky scarlet—emboldening the horizon— and you watch as the setting glow catches the hair on his arm—there, resting on the console between you. His hand fists over the gear, knuckles creasing as they tense around the worn, leathered head. You’re playing a game—a silent, ruleless game. You know he can sense you observing him, can feel the heat of your gaze weigh on the flex of his fingers—the same fingers that had ripped an orgasm out of you not two hours before.

You almost unbuckle your damn seatbelt and fly out of your chair. You nearly break with it, with the unspoken tension filling the car like gas and fuck, how you crave him; how you yearn to put those fingers in your mouth and suck—lave the summer clean off his digits and bob around the long width and—

The light turns green.

Frankie resumes his hand to the wheel, your lewd fantasy dissipating along with it.

It’s minuscule. You would have missed it save the fact that you’re so acutely aware of every fucking breath you two share in the aluminum confines of your old Jeep. It’s a subtle thing: Frankie adjusts his hips— innocent enough— but your eyes flicker over to find the groin of his drying swim trunks tented.

You’re not ashamed to say it— your mouth fucking waters, you salivate— and as if on cue, he squirms again, seeking relief from both the blood rushing south and the blister of your stare. His lips part— the rasp of an inhale as he prepares to speak—before his focus is torn down to the dashboard, an orange symbol popping up in the gauge stealing his attention.

“Shit,” Frankie mumbles under his breath. Looking around, he scans for a nearby station and groans at the realization that he’s just passed one, spotting it in the rearview mirror. “Shit.”

You swivel towards the passenger side window, attempting to hide the I told you so expression pulling wry at your mouth. Not that you’ll hang it over him, but you did inform Frankie that the tank was empty on the way to the beach. You hear another muffled curse come from the man beside you, and the world goes topsy-turvy and reverses itself— the act of Frankie making a grumbled U-turn.

He puts the gear into park with a huff, Van Halen’s solo abruptly cut short mid chord.

The car door opens with a rusty squeal and Frankie clambers out, fishing his wallet from his back pocket and swiping his card through the reader at the pump—but not before he squeezes a palm into the plush of your thigh, thumb searing like a brand into your skin. I’ll be quick.

Fuck, you could have cum right then.

Your gaze follows his movements, dogging after him as he waits on the gas to fill— arms folded across his chest, strong build leaning on the frame of your car.

It’s not a novel concept to you, but God is that man broad. The ratty t-shirt he wears clings to him, pulled taut between the plane of his shoulders, the cut of his tricep apparent even from your vantage point; the corded muscle running up his neck flashing as he watches the digital numbers on the screen tick higher.

Shit, you’re aching for him— you can feel yourself throb into the crotch of your swimsuit. You’d have him right here—in the backseat, steaming up the glass— if it weren’t for the overencumbered bags and rickety beach chairs crowding the space.

With herculean effort, you wrench your eyes off him in search of a distraction, letting them drift to the dark flooring of the car. It’s been dirtied—white flecks speckling the interior—and you won’t be able to get the sand out of the matted carpets for weeks. It’s a nuisance, to be sure, but you have to admit that you’re sort of fond of it; little memories, vestiges in the grains, lingering long after the season ends.

Hello, remember me? each granule chirped, remember when we laughed giddy for hours, maddened by the grace of the sun? Remember when we burned red that time we forgot sunscreen? Remember when we bought soft serve from the surf shack and it globbed sticky down our wrists? Remember when we when we when when when…

Frankie, ever practical, hates it. It’s a pain in the ass, he’s told you, regaling you with the woes only a mechanic would care to know. It ruins the upholstery.

You’ve had your exchanges about the topic—your faux-squabbled back and forths—and yet despite himself, he can’t help but like that you like it. Conceptually, he gets it—it annoys him to kingdom fucking come and he’ll almost certainly take the vacuum to the mats first thing tomorrow, but he understands. He understands it.

He understands you.

You’re like that, you and him. You’re different. You are made of different things, a compository of fractures and fragments. Mosaic tiles. You don’t quite fit—not all of you—but you never force the pieces into any sort of place. You admire each other’s mismatched bits, those sweetly quilted jigsaws, and you hold each one up to the light and point at the unique curves, the notches and swoops there, and say I love you, I love this, I love this too.

When Frankie keys up the ignition and puts the car in drive, he keeps his hand on your lap. Arm resting over the median dividing you, calloused palm sealing over your quad, his fingertips knead a pulse into the meat of your leg with each bump in the poorly paved road— a reminder. A vow. Almost home.

You think he does it just to torture you.

It fucking works.

/

The sound of laughter parts the front door as you enter— Frankie had made some colorful comment about your absolute favorite neighbors, the ones who always leave their damn garbage bins in front of your driveway— and your key ring clatters as it hits the bowl on the side table.

You discard the bags, plopping the sandy things down in the entryway, and kick off your sandals— bare soles padding along lacquered wood paneling as you head to the kitchen for some much needed water.

The sound of the tap running camouflages Frankie’s movement, you don’t hear him behind you. He’s got stealth in him, harbored there from before. He’s light on his feet when he chooses to be—nimble-like, bordering on feline—and you startle with a bubbly chuckle when you spin around to discover him far closer than you anticipated.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping us hydrated,” you grin, as if it were obvious. You’re welcome.

He hums, the note rumbling against the cage of his ribs, and lessens the distance between you with a single stride. “That can wait.”

He rids you of the glasses, hurriedly placing them on the counter, and meets you in a kiss—and fuck can that man kiss. Frankie, like with all things, is responsive—attentive. His lips are fever-laced and wanton, and he roves against yours like they’re designed to— fated for no one else’s but your own— nipping and tonguing at your honeyed whines, orphaned there in the well of your mouth.

His hands vine up your body, so deprived of the luxury of your form - of touch - and he grabs at anything he can— your hips, your waist, your breasts through the cotton of your shirt— their half moon curves sitting ripe in his palms.

After ushering you up to the countertop, he strips you of your jean shorts, your bikini bottom sloughing down your calves along with them, and hoists your feet onto the fake granite, prying your legs wide for him.

When he gets an eyeful of your gleaming pussy, pearled with arousal, the wind gets punched straight out of him.

“Jesus honey,” he groans, “you been like this the whole ride home?”

Your brain is numb, lagging with lust. You don’t trust your voice to speak—all you can do is nod.

“Poor thing,” he simpers. “Poor pretty thing, all wound up for me—all wet.”

You whimper at his tone—graveled, just shy of condescending—and your knees weaken shut before he snatches them apart.

“Sit still.”

It’s a command, there’s no room for disobedience; he orders it with a soldier's voice—that dead thing he wears like dog tags around his neck. Vice grip widening your legs, Frankie sinks down onto his shins, head leveled with your core, engrossed with the sight of your damp sex quivering.

Blotchy warmth creeps up your neck, like ivy crawling over brick.

He’s staring at you— hungry and possessed and simply staring at your open cunt and you begin to fidget once more—riling under his umbered appraisal.

“Sit still baby girl,” he murmurs, softer now and desperate too—intoxicated with the heady perfume of your heat. “Lemme just— fuck, I gotta taste you…”

When he swipes the deft muscle of his tongue through your slit, your head careens back onto the cabinets, plates and bowls rattling behind the wood.

Oh god, Frankie.

He’s got a talent for this— an excruciating, body wracking talent. He thirsts for you something dangerous, something unquenchable; he tugs at your labia, forming his lips around your clit, lapping at your essence— the ocean musk, that sea foam wet.

You fumble through his hair, mussing the saline woven strands with urgent fingers as you grind grind grind, rolling your hips to meet him in a covetous show of want and he purrs into your pussy as you fuck his face, the scratch of his stubble chafing at your legs.

It doesn’t take long, not with the fervor of how he’s claiming your cunt with his mouth. You soak Frankie’s chin— you nearly fucking drown him with it—and he’s glistening with you when he finally emerges for air, pulling you to him to slant his lips against yours, letting you savor your own taste on his hot tongue.

“Bedroom. Now,” he husks, breath hitching as his nose grazes along your ear, and with two hands under your armpits, he gathers you off the countertop. Frankie lands a swat at the plump of your backside, sending you scurrying through the living room with a shriek—completely bypassing the abandoned pile of laundry left lying on the couch.

He smirks—delirious and ramrod stiff—sauntering behind you, enamored with the pendulum sway of your hips as you lead him to the bed.

/

You’ve never been here. You’ve never gone this far. You both have tiptoed this narrow line for months; he’s fingered your ass plenty—you have even gone so far as to don a butt plug. You’ve discussed anal—toyed with the idea, flirted in circles around it like tittering birds.

But you’ve never taken Frankie’s cock. Not yet.

He’s been working you loose and limber for the better part of fifteen minutes, delving himself knuckle deep into your slicked hole until you’re sputtering for more— until you’re downright sopping and fucking shaking— and not with trepidation but with desire. Frankie’s made you gluttonous. Frankie’s made you voracious.

You’re starving for him.

“You gonna let me have this now?” He presses a digit over your ass, kissing his thumb into the knot there.

You tremble, nodding frantic.

“Think this pretty little ass can take me, baby?”

He serves you a slap, plush skin jiggling and pricking pink under his palm. You keen into him, in search of the promise he’s been baiting you with and you arch your hips, gyrating back onto fucking nothing.

“Yes. Yes—” You twist, chin corkscrewed around to see him. You want to watch. You want to watch as he disappears inside you— as you swallow him.

“A-Are you sure?” he asks, suddenly gone gentle around the lines fraying from his eyes—those wrinkles he’s hard-earned and won, like badges, like medals—from all his years spent under an unforgiving sun, all of that which he has seen and endured. Survived. Your Frankie, always thoughtful, always checking. A goddamn gentleman, even now—even as his dick brays hard and angry against the soft of his tawny stomach. “Because really, we don’t have to—”

You cut him off with a whimper, splaying your pelvis up to him—spreading yourself, letting him see the filth dripping from your seam, dappling your inner thighs. “Fuck me,” you whine, both holes puckering for him. “Fill me up, like you said you would— please.”

Something shifts across his features like a shadow and his expression morphs until it steels— his pupils dilating to a predatorial onyx— and he spits into his palm, coating his shaft, jerking himself with it.

He hisses as he guides himself into you, as you accommodate around him, as you envelop him entirely— inch by veritable inch. He has to station a hand to the base of your lumbar, struggling to maintain his composure—air rattling in and out his lungs as he attempts to breathe.

“Shit,” he gasps, “t-this okay?”

You fist the comforter, coiling the fabric into a ball. It’s a stretch— it’s a real goddamn stretch— and briefly you consider that he might, in fact, snap you in two...

Francisco Morales is going to split you clean in half—and God, if you don’t you love it.

“Yes - yes baby - keep going. D-Don’t stop.”

He pitches into you, setting a legato tempo— transfixed by the lurid juncture where you converge into one. “You- you’re so tight. Shit, you’re—”

He silences himself with a delicious moan, biting at his lower lip until the vessels there burst and it purples, and deals a particularly aggressive thrust— one you respond to with an ugly wail of your own, eyes somersaulting in their sockets.

You’re both impatient, verging on rabid, and it doesn’t take long for him to set a rougher pace and fuck you faster - harder - hammering into your ass until you see stars, popping and fizzing in front of your retinas, a symphony of guttural grunts and carnal praise fogging up the bedroom.

Your pussy feels so empty you could cry—weeping and gaping and fluttering for him as he takes your tight ring of muscle, fucking himself to the hilt. It’s like he’s behind your brain—like he’s carved his way up your spine and nudging at the nape of your neck with how deep he’s driving into you—restless. Ceaseless. His balls slap slap slap against your puffy cunt and you pant— girlish and buoyant with the dulled smacks to your sore clit.

“Please,” you sob, “Please, I need—”

You can barely push the words out—your mind is of no help and your tongue lolls useless, languid in your mouth. Your motor functions have all but puttered to a halt, every scrap of you fighting to stay above the sensation that’s threatening to drag you under its current. The rip tide of it all, of Frankie’s cock, coursing through your ass, tempting to hurdle you out into the dark, wet blue.

“Tell me,” Frankie rasps, scraping through his throat. “Tell me, pretty baby.”

Your response is pathetic—you can hardly dignify it as a response at all. Your temple is pressed into the mattress, hair knotted with brine and sand, and all you can do is coo.

Frankie folds over you, angling himself to graze his teeth over your shoulder—savoring the salt and sex tang bathing your skin, all those pheromones and velveteen chemicals anointing you—baptizing you anew for him. He’s gruff when he murmurs, his beard grating your freshly tanned skin.

“C’mon sweetheart - hng, fuck - what do you need?”

“My clit,” you rush out, needy. “My clit. Please, oh my god Frankie I-I need you to, I need – oh fuck—” And your pleas are mummed by a rapturous moan as he trails his hand from the hollow of your hip to the apex of your cleft and flicks.

Fuck. Fuck, oh Christ—

There’s a ringing in your ears, buzzing you deaf, making you dumb—or maybe it’s just your heart, beating loud and errant against your skull—you can’t say. You don’t feel human. Frankie’s pounding into that cinched channel and playing with your clit—swiveling eddies into your swollen nub—and you feel like an animal. You feel debased. You feel disgusting and perfect and you’re fucking drooling; cheek squished and mouth agape, saliva pools from your wagging maw, darkening the white linen you’re being driven into.

“You need me in your pussy, too?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer him— he already knows what you need, how you need to have every part of you gorged on him— and Frankie dips his fingertips into your entrance, hooking them up and up and in, fucking in time to the cant of his hips.

He’s in you. Everywhere, everywhere—every possible neuron and synapse consumed with him.

“You need me like this—fucking you this deep? Fucking both your pretty holes?” he growls, weaving his hand lower to grab a fistful of your hair, rucking your head up. Throat stretched bare for him, your mewls muddle to cock-drunk cries as he spears you on himself again and again and again.

Yes yes yes fuck harder please please Frankie

You're pleading with him—you’ve been reduced to meager begging— and a chorus of slurs sings your release as you contract around him and cum, the cradle of your hips bucking reflexively.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he seethes, “you’re so good for me baby, Jesus fuck—”

He’s close now—his blissed finish drawing nearer and nearer with each sharp snap of his hips. Frankly, he’s shocked he’s managed to last as long as he has; it’s a small miracle he hadn’t cum the instant he slotted himself inside you with that very first stroke.

“Baby,” he warns, losing his rhythm. You saddle your spine, hollowing out the valley of your back and arch pretty and supple for him— preening under his weight. He moans at that, and through your fucked out haze you have the wherewithal to smirk at him, devious and prideful, a wild look owning your eye.

Frankie has to brace himself on your hips, untangling from your locks to bruise into the pillow of your skin— gripping on for dear fucking life as he plows you. You’re strangling him. You’re strangling the thick of his cock until he’s dizzy with it—until he’s feral and blind and he can’t hold on, can’t keep fighting this fucking monsoon that’s raging in his core.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna—fuck me, oh shit—” He shouts, spurting inside you thrust for thrust, painting your virgin walls with his seed. It’s too much— after all that, and you’re still too tight— and he’s overstimulated to the point of delirium. Frankie roots himself still, cum dribbling out your stuffed hole while he rides out the high of his orgasm—his vision, his senses, his goddamn soul, slowly oozing back into him. When he slides free from you, he does so with a pained heave, leaving you yawning with his absence.

You feel shredded. Vacant. You’ve been sent to another fucking dimension all together.

Without wasting another second, Frankie claws you up. You’re easy and malleable, bones and muscles too strung out to protest, and he whirls you around to bar you to his chest—crushing your sweaty body to his with bullet marred arms— the same arms that have taken lives, that have spared them, too. The same arms that link around you, delicate and daisy-chained, like you’re the most precious thing he has.

And you are.

You are.

Frankie kisses you breathless, drinking rich from your cup— tongue greedy and reverent as he kneels there at your altar, praying his sins into your mouth.

So gorgeous, he croons, peppering your face—your flushed cheeks, your perspired brow—with his lips as he tells you over and over and over again.

So good for me, pretty baby

Was that okay?

Fuck, you’re a dream

You’re my best girl—you’re my only girl

Was that okay?

God, you’re my whole fucking world

Was that okay? Was I okay?

Are you okay?

You swoon, helpless to the contented sigh that seeps out from you like mist. You’ve gone limp against the breadth of him. He has reduced you to rubber, left wobbling in his grasp, and you’re so damn full—your heart and your body—all of it. You feel unequivocally complete. You feel safe, you feel home.

You are home. Francisco is home.

He’s flattening out the nest of your hair, taming the damage he previously delivered to it, earning from you a sleepy grin into the muggy crook of his neck. And with the last of your waning strength you hold his pieces up to the light—the light you left on in the hall as the night grew dark around you, the one who’s yellow glow your naked bodies bask in now, and you say

I love you

I love this

I love this too

tags:

@krissology @heartsofbeskar @madhattervanessa @andiesturgss @sharkbait77 @tenderwhat @javier-pena @pedros-mustache @frannyzooey @chasingdreamer @djarinsbeskar @thosewickedlovelies @juletheghoul @not-the-droids @filthybookworm @pilothusband @letterfromvienna @keeper0fthestars @greatcircle79 @day-off-inkyoto @mermaidxatxheart @lawfulgranola @heatherbel @quica-quica-quica @stuckonthefiction @janesbrontes

[seita]

― eita + cock worship.

genre: smut

tags: cock worship, hand job, blow job

request: 🦈; pls afton,,, spare cock worship scenario for semi 🥺 semi has a pretty nd nice cock nd i just wanna give em the vacuum seal, double hand twist, gawk gawk combo 3000  

⤿ requests currently closed.

― semi eita.

≻ eita words hard, that’s no secret ≻ when he comes home from work, he’s usually...well, exhausted ≻ but he still looks so good ≻ with his tie loosened, the sleeves to his pressed buttondown pushed up to his elbows ≻ he sits on the couch, legs spread wide enough the you could so easily slip between them ≻ his head leans back on the couch, eyes closed so he wouldn’t even see you coming ≻ to your surprise, he doesn’t even stir when you sink to your knees in front of him and rest your cheek against his thigh ≻ you know he’s awake, can see the little furrow of stress in his brow even as he lays there trying to relax ≻ you reach up to palm him through his pants, the leather belt making his hips look lovely ≻ “what’re you doing?” he mumbles, still not opening his eyes ≻ but he doesn’t wave you away which you take as a good sign ≻ it’s easy to admit you just want his cock ≻ he heaves out a big sigh, making you pout ≻ why does he make it sound like such a chore? ≻ “if you can get me hard, you’re doing all the work. don’t blame me if you don’t cum.” ≻ you squeal in excitement, getting to work

+

“fuck, that’s it, baby,” he groans, eyes rolling back.

his back arches prettily, as you delicate stroke his cock. his lips are swollen from biting them and sweat makes his shirt and bangs stick to his skin. your mouth is agape, unable to turn away from the lovely view that is your boyfriend.

“your cock is so pretty, eita,” you whisper, marveling at how long and thick it is in your hand. the head is flushed, drooling precum that drips down the shaft, drawing your attention to the throbbing veins that line the silky skin, “i love it so much.”

“yeah?” he laughs, head rolling forward to look at you, “why don’t you put it in your mouth for me then, hm? can you do that for me, bunny?”

you shiver as he reaches forward to cup your jaw, gently urging you forward until the wet tip touches your lips. he lets out a stuttering sigh as you take the head into your mouth, eyes fluttering at the taste of him on your tongue. you swirl your tongue around him, not sucking -- just licking him.

“you teasin’ me, bunny?” he asks softly, a little smile lingering on his lips.

you quickly pull off, eyes bright and wide, “just wanna play with your cock. it’s so perfect.”

he hums, “that cock’s all yours, pretty baby. do what you want.”

his body tenses as you take him into your mouth again. you force half of him into your mouth until the tip brushes past your throat, making you gag loudly. he curses, eyes rolling back once more.

“fuck, feels so good when you choke on me, baby, you know that? tight little throat squeezin’ me,” his praise makes you tremble, urging you take him deeper -- forcing another gag from you.

tears fill your eyes and quickly fall as he starts to rut his hips forward, slowly starting to fuck your mouth. he quickly wipes them away, groaning.

“you gonna let me cum, pretty girl? treatin’ my cock so well. i’m so lucky, fuck, i love you so much,” his voice grows tighter until you feel him throb heavily in your throat, spilling his cum and forcing you to swallow all of his before he pulls out.

© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.

[drakenology]

Vapors - Bakugo Katsuki

warnings!: use of drugs (weed), smut, a lil comedy, fluff (cause im a cancer and we love romance in this house.) swearing because bakugo, Bakugo aged up (cause we don’t fuck children ‘round here), and sex under the influence of drugs. i also sprinkled some daddy kink up in here so...

author’s note: THANK YOU GUYS SOOOO MUCH FOR 100 NOTES ON MY RECENT POSTS!!! I really appreciate all the love, it makes me so happy to see that you guys like my work. Remember I’m taking requests and asks so please don’t be shy! here’s yet another bakugo smut because.. well, i’m obsessed with this man ok?? AND we need more stoner Bakugo idc idc idc. enjoy!

summary: Bakugo is a stoner and you’ve been kind of a goody two shoes for most of your life until the night you smoked with your boyfriend for the first time. 

It was a calm evening at home. You had just finished cleaning the home you shared with Bakugo as he helped by washing the dishes. You sigh, putting away the vacuum as you go and hop in the shower. You loved when he took days off of being a hero to spend some time with you at home. As you take your shower, you hear your boyfriend singing along to his favorite song; you smile as you hear him carelessly belt the notes off key. You loved his stupid ass so much. If you had ever told anyone he was a softie for you he’d probably kill you himself, but you still cherish the moments when he’s at his sweetest. You step out of the shower, drying yourself off as you dress yourself in a t-shirt and fleece pajama pants to keep warm and cozy. You walk out to the living room to a strong stench that completely caught you off guard. Bakugo was sitting on the couch, singing his song in his own little world; rolling a joint for him to smoke. 

“Katsuki! I told you no smoking in the house!” You nag, walking over to him. He smirked up at you, continuing to roll. He was in a really good mood today. He spent the day smoking weed and fucking his hot girlfriend. Even if she was a little uptight, she was fucking gorgeous and she had a good heart. Though he really wished you’d loosen your corset a bit. 

“Relax, shitty woman. I’m taking this outside. Just rollin’ up as all.” He said, concentrating on sealing his joint. He licked the seams of the paper, looking you in the eyes as he did so. He chuckled as he watched your face turn red. 

“You’ve never smoked before, huh?” Kastuki asked you, raising a brow at you as you watched him carefully roll his joint. You sat next to him, folding your arms as you shake your head no. Katsuki smoked, not a lot but whenever he had time to himself and you knew that. You never had a problem with it, you just never smoked yourself. 

“I’d never. I used to think weed was so bad for you. But you smoke it and you seem fine.” You admit, watching him hold a lighter over his joint to seal the edges. 

“Did you wanna try it with me? If not that’s fine, I’m not pressuring you to do anything you don’t want to, princess.” He said, cupping your chin in his hand as he gave you a small peck on your nose. You smile and think briefly. Katsuki knows that you’ve always been a goody two shoes. Ever since you two were kids, you were always so afraid to get into trouble for anything. He remembers when you cried all the way through detention for bickering with him in middle school. It was your first and only detention. You were so hysterical, it was as if someone died. You were just always so sweet and innocent. You never cussed or got too angry and that’s what Katsuki loved about you. You were such a calming spirit. Even though he was the complete opposite, it worked as you balanced each other out. 

“Okay. But just this one night.” You giggle, hopping up out of your seat. He stands up and walks to the balcony of your apartment, smacking your ass as you walk through the sliding door. You two were sat next to each other, watching the sun set over the clouds as he lights up the joint for you both to share. 

“Now I just wanna warn you, please don’t feel like you gotta keep up with me. You can stop when you feel like you’ve had enough. Okay?” He said, taking a drag. You nod, watching him closely to see how to properly smoke a joint. It had to be a science right? He takes another slow drag and blew out the smoke, passing it to you so you can have a hit. You take it and hold it like a cigarette, making Katsuki laugh as he watched his goody goody smoke weed for the first time. You take a puff, one that was a little too big for you to start off and immediately you cough up the smoke. Katsuki pats your back as he handed you some water to help your throat. 

“Idiot.” He shakes his head, laughing slightly. You lightly hit his chest, trying to take another drag. 

“Just inhale. You’re overthinking it.” He said watching you slowly take a drag. Sure enough after following Bakugo’s instruction, you blow out the smoke. You felt your body instantly relax, your eyes hazy and low as you watch Katsuki smoke some more. God, he was so attractive. You’ve never sat and watched him smoke before, he’d always leave the room out of respect for you not liking the smoke in the house. But with the way your body feels right now, you think you’d been missing out for sure. You take in his form, he was slouched in his chair with his legs spread out as he smoked. You felt yourself blush as you watched him, in awe of his stature. He passed you the joint once more and you happily took another drag. You loved the high you were feeling, the stars in the sky twinkling much more pristine as then usual. You become a little giggly, your first time being high just seemed so hilarious. 

“What’re you laughin’ at?” Bakugo says looking at you with hazy eyes, your laughter roaring through his ears. 

“I-I’m sorry I just- AHAHAHAHA!” You burst, hunching over laughing at practically nothing. Being high was kinda fun. Bakugo laughs with you, putting out the joint when he was done. 

“That’s enough for you, shitty woman.” He said standing up from his chair. You slowly stand up from your seat as you wobble a little, feeling your balance being thrown off by the influence of weed. He helps you inside, opening the door for you letting you walk in first. As a tradition, he smacks you ass as you walk through the door. You looked especially delicious when he was high, his pants feeling a little tight just looking at you. He plops down on the couch and turned on the T.V, flipping through Netflix as you walked into the kitchen. 

“I’m fucking HUNGRY.” You blurt out, looking through the cabinets for something to snack on. Katsuki froze, unsure that he heard what he just heard.

“D-Did you just fucking cuss?” He asked, completely shocked. Never in his years of knowing you has he ever heard you utter a swear word. He tried to get you to at least say “Damn.” and that never worked. 

“Oh shit... I did just cuss. Oh shit I just cussed again! FUCK!” You laugh, not being able to contain your foul language. It felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off your shoulders, finally loosening your metaphorical corset. Katsuki laughed. 

“What’s gotten into you, huh?” He asked sarcastically, standing up from his seat on the couch. He walked towards you to see you stuffing you face with every snack from your pantry. You had a seriously bad case of the munchies, crunching away at some potato chips. 

“We gotta go food shopping tomorrow. Ain’t shit in here to eat. UGH why does food taste so fucking good right now!?” You said, cussing with ease at this point. Bakugo inched closer to you shaking his head, snatching the bag of chips away from you as he started to eat them. You frown, grabbing some cookies instead. 

“Gimme one.” Bakugo said, grabbing the cookie out of your mouth with his, taking a bite from it. You blush as you chew your own cookie, watching him look down at you. You never really realized how much taller Bakugo was compared to you. You took your hand and wiped some crumbs from the corner of his mouth, kissing him deeply as you pulled him closer to you. Katsuki kissed you back, picking you up and sitting you on the kitchen counter. The kiss under the influence felt amazing. It was like time froze while you kissed, your lips combined feeling like electricity as you melt into him. You feel yourself getting wetter by the second, immensely turned on by this man. You tug at the hem of his shirt for him to take it off, earning a chuckle from Katsuki. 

“You’re horny as fuck right now, aren’t you?” He asked, leaning in to kiss your neck. “I can tell you’re probably soaked right now.” You moan as he left open mouth kisses down your neck, reaching under your shirt to grab and squeeze at your bare breasts. You feel absolutely blissful, your panties soaking at this point. Why did everything feel so fucking good right now? 

“Kachan~” You whine, trying to grind against him as he licked and sucked on your neck, pinching your nipples lightly. You feel as if you’re about to cum just from him playing with your boobs and kissing your neck, your pussy pulsating as you grab onto him for dear life. All the pleasure was becoming so blinding you never wanted this feeling to go away. Katsuki lifts you up again to walk back into the living room with you in his arms, sitting on the couch with you on his lap. 

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He said, nibbling on your ear. You moan, grinding against his growing bulge, taking off your shirt to reveal your nude breasts to him. 

“You, daddy.” You purr. Katsuki freezes a little, shocked by what you just called him. You were pretty vanilla so hearing you call him daddy turned him feral. 

“Say it again.” He demanded, taking a nipple into his mouth. You moan, still grinding your pussy against the tent he was pitching in his pants, running your hands through his hair. 

“I want you, daddyy. Please fuck me.” You whine, getting off his lap as he stood. Your obedience was turning him on so much he just had to have you, not caring where in the house he took you at this point. He slid off your pants and panties in one go, kneeling down to get a closer looks at your wetness. 

“Fuck, you don’t know what you do to me, baby.” he hissed, kissing your inner thighs. “I would eat you out for being such a good girl but I need to be inside you. Now.” He said, standing up to take off his pants and his boxers, his thick length springing out as he pulled them down. You almost drool at the sight, spreading your legs and rubbing your pussy as you imagined his length stretching you out. You were never this sultry in the bedroom, always having Katsuki initiate. But tonight, you had a hunger you needed to be fulfilled. 

“You’re so fucking sexy..” Katsuki moaned, pumping his dick a few times before grabbing your face to kiss you with tongue. He pulled away to grab you by your neck, the dominating look in his eyes making your pussy gush. 

“Bend your sexy ass over.” He growled, letting you go as you obliged. He crouched behind you and gave your pussy a few taps with his dick before sliding inside your slick folds. You have never felt this good. Sex with Katsuki had always been amazing but tonight this was different. You moan sinfully as you felt him stretch you out, his thrusts progressing as he fucked you good. 

“D-Daddyy.” You moan, gripping the arm of the couch for dear life. He smacks your ass a few times, quickening his pace as he grabbed you hair to pull it. You lean into the couch, one leg on the seat and one planted onto the floor, hardly being able to keep you stable as your legs shake. You feel your release come quicker than expected, you reaching back to rub your clit in harsh circles. 

“You make me feel so good daddy. Fuck, I love you!” You scream, pushing your face into your hands as Katsuki continued the assault on your g-spot. You start clenching around him, the sound of your moans and skin slapping together filled the living room as Katsuki starts to sweat, a caramel scent filling your nose. 

“So fucking sexy, baby. You gonna cum for me?” He asked, his hard thrusts causing you to see stars. Your moans are the only thing Katsuki can hear, unsatified as he pulled you up to him by your hair. 

“I can’t hear you, baby.” He said, fucking you even harder,  you not knowing that was even possible. You can hardly form a sentence, you responding with frantic yeses and moans and I love yous. He smirked, throwing you back onto the couch as he feels you clench around him once more. If he knew you were gonna be this frisky he would have gotten you high a long time ago.  

“I’m gonna cum, daddy! I- oh!” You shriek, cumming around his dick to Katsuki’s delight. He smacks you ass hard as he helps you ride out your orgasm only to quicken his pace again, chasing his own release. 

“Yeah.. ‘M gonna cum, baby. You ready?” He asked sweetly, kissing your back as he pounds you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, gasping for air to try and answer him. 

“C-Cum inside me, daddy. Oh god yes!” You moan, biting your lip. He did just that, a strong grunt leaving his mouth as he slowed down his movements, his cum painting your womb white. You sigh, almost missing his dick inside you as he pulled out of you. He picked you up and carried you to your shared room. 

“Can we smoke again later?” You ask innocently. He laughed and walked into the bathroom to start you both a bath. 

“Sure baby.” He said, giving you a sweet kiss. He pulled out the joint you both hadn’t finished as he led you into the bath. He goes to light it before looking to you to see if it was okay to smoke in the bathroom. 

“Fuck it.” You say, laughing as he lights up the joint for you to relax in your bath. 

[demoneyesanddamagedsouls]

Ok so I’ve been trying to find a fic like this somewhere but it’s kinda weird so I haven’t seen any- just like Din and you living together on the crest for a while and your always wearing pants/long sleeves even when it’s hot, and one day he sees you after you come out of thfresher wearing a short sleeve shirt and notices self harm scars 🥺 and he’s really concerned at first because he doesn’t quite know what they are but then he figures it out and he tries to listen to you and your story/ past.

Hi there Anon!

First off, thank you so much for being my first ever fic request!

Secondly, oh my goodness I love this prompt! This is something I have struggled with as well so I loved writing how I picture Din reacting to finding out and looking after you.

I really hope you enjoy my interpretation of this fic! Please let me know if you have any feedback for me as well. I’m always open to critique! And if you ever need anyone to talk to, I am always here, please know you never have to face this alone. ❤️❤️❤️

***

The Strength of You

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: Triggering Topics. Self harm scars, revealing & touching of scars, talking about self harming

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Steam filled your senses as you felt the boiling water run through your hair. You hummed to yourself as you washed off the grease and grime of the day in the small fresher. It had been a long day of fixing small parts on the ship and greasing tough gears, you were exhausted but your mind was full. It had been almost a week since you’d seen Din and your sadness weighed on your heart, you missed him dearly. He had kissed you on the forehead and left 5 days ago saying that this could be a longer hunt as the bounty he was chasing was cunning and smart, unlike some of the more hopeless ones he had to find. You recalled the soft touch of his lips on your skin as you pictured his soft smile.

Turning off the shower and hopping out slowly, you picked up your towel and dried yourself off. Pulling on your cargo shorts and a t-shirt that was just a little too big for you, you turned your eyes to yourself reflected in the mirror. This wasn’t something you usually wore, normally opting for some more covered and conservative attire, and it made you feel a little uncomfortable and exposed, so you were fiddling with the edges of the shirt sleeves attempting to pull them down lower. No one’s going to see you, you’re not going to be leaving the ship, you thought to yourself. Not that you really did when Din was on a hunt unless you and the little one ran out of food or you needed certain parts or tools for a particularly tough job. Anyway it was laundry day, and you were just going to have to deal with it. Sighing to yourself you leant down to pick up your holster with the small gun resting inside. You always kept it on you in case you needed it, especially with the type of people Din usually had to deal with. Suddenly you hear some small coos coming from further away in the ship. You roll your eyes to yourself. That adorable little gremlin can’t give you 5 minutes of your own space for a quick shower. You chuckle to yourself.

“Coming little one!” You call out as you quickly buckle your holster to your hip. Dashing out to go find your impatient little baby you close the fresher door behind you and spin around, coming face to face with the masked Mandalorian. The little baby was held in his arms, a small hand wrapped around his leather gloved finger. You freeze in a panic, your face paralysed in shock. He was home early. You’d be ecstatic to see him so soon if you weren’t dressed like you were. Exposed. He had never seen you without your usual long sleeves and pants. Even in the darkness of many nights on the ship you’d kept yourself covered. Din had never pushed you to do anything you didn’t want to do and becoming more exposed was included in that. Just as you had never pushed him to remove his helmet. There was a mutual understanding and respect between you. After many months together as you and Din had grown closer, he had begun to take his mask off around you. He wanted you to see his face, he wanted to be able to see yours without the obstruction of the helmet. He wanted to kiss you, rest his chin in the crook of your neck as he held you close. You didn’t know why you couldn’t bring yourself to show him more of yourself. But it seemed that fate had taken matters into its own hands.

Din swiftly comes to meet you, excited to see you after such a long hunt especially considering he had received bad information. The bounty hadn’t been on this planet, so he’d returned to the ship empty handed and missing your smile and your gentle touch. The little green baby resting in the crook of his elbow, his eyes meet yours behind the mask. He noticed the panicked expression on your face and his happiness dissipated, swiftly changing to concern. Immediately worried about your safety he looked you over, all of a sudden noticing your attire. This was the most he’d ever seen of you. His eyes flick to the scars littering the length of your forearms and along the top of your thighs.

His concern is instantly mixed with anger. “Who did this to you? I knew I shouldn’t have been gone that long… What happened?” Din says his voice modulated by the helmet, but even still you could hear the rage rising in his tone. You don’t respond, your mouth is dry, and your head is spinning. He reaches for the blaster on his hip with one hand as he holds the little baby in the other. “Who did this? Who could have hurt you like this?!” His voice reaches a fever pitch and out of instinct you start backing away pulling yourself into the security of the wall behind you, moving away from the Mandalorian in front of you, seething with anger. You knew it wasn’t directed at you but you needed to get away from his anger, it was only making you panic more, your heartbeat quickly rising.

Din’s focus flicks back to you as he sees you moving away, away from him. Shaking his head, frustrated at himself, he starts to walk slowly towards you.

You keep your eyes trained on the floor trying to calm yourself as you watch his feet move towards you, boots clicking on the metal floor. Inches away from your face you hear him slowly remove his helmet, the hiss of the vacuum seal unlocking and the metal clanging to the floor, his gloves quickly following. Raising your eyes, you meet his deep brown ones, full of worry and anguish, his little brown curls resting haphazardly across his face and his brows furrowed in concern, highlighting the soft lines of age across his sharp features. As you look at each other the baby reaches out for you, making a small noise to get your attention. You smile softly at him and pull him into your embrace, resting him on your arm. As you hold onto the little one Din takes your other arm and looks it over, brushing his calloused fingers across your forearm and the raised scars that adorn your soft skin. Following the trail he kneels down to analyse the markings on your upper thighs. Lightly gripping your thighs in his warm palms, he brushes across your skin, softly caressing you with his bare thumbs. Keeping his hands rested where they were Din looks back up at you a forlorn expression across his features. You release the breath you didn’t realise you were holding as you meet his gaze. He didn’t have to say anything, his eyes simply said I’m here for you. Taking a deep breath, you gather up the courage to tell him everything you’d been holding back. Holding back from the man that you loved.

“Din I- I did this to myself… it was something that I used to cope with everything I was feeling.” The words tumbling out of your mouth, like a dam breaking, filling up the void of noise with your words. “I felt like I was spinning out of control and this was the only way I could ground myself. Its how I used to distract myself from the overwhelming amount of emotional pain I was feeling.” You look deep into his eyes as you continue, tears starting to spill out down your cheeks, “I felt stupid, lonely and worthless, drifting through space never knowing where to go or what to do, uncertain of everything I did. I didn’t know how to vent these emotions, so I took it out on myself. I felt so useless, and I wanted to punish myself for that.” You pause looking at Din through a glassy tear-filled vision. “I’ve never had someone who cared enough about me to talk about this. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this sooner, but I was scared… scared of losing you…” You whisper, your own words catching in your throat.

A stray tear rolled down Din’s cheek as he reached up to wipe some of the wetness off your face, water welling up in the corner of his eyes. Your heart falls to pieces at the sight. The strongest man you knew, well the strongest man in the whole galaxy, and here he was, knelt in front of you weeping at the words that you had just shared with him. “Little one… don’t you see? These are your battle scars, they make you who you are!” He smiles up at you softly, “It means you fought and fought, but you got back up. You’re a survivor… just like me…” He trails off, his gaze full of love and adoration as he looks up at you. A smile breaks out across your face, full of relief at finally relieving the weight of this huge burden off of your chest. For the first time in your life you had someone to share in everything, someone to confide in, someone to be your true self around.

You kneel slowly, baby still curled up in your arm making gentle snoring noises, to join him there on the floor. Taking his cheek into your hand, you place a gentle kiss on his soft lips. He pulls you in closer and deepens it, trying to express all the love he felt in his heart, all his admiration for you, for the strength you had. Both of you getting lost in the emotion of it all. You both pull away inhaling softly as you both catch your breath, holding each other’s gaze.

“You are so strong my little one… cyar’ika how could you possibly think I wouldn’t love every part of you? You never have to hide yourself from me. You’re so beautiful, so brave… I could live forever in the sunshine that you radiate every day.” A warm smile spreading across his face, revealing the soft dimples that adorned his cheeks. Resting his hand on the top of your leg, just below your shorts, he caresses your skin once more. Reassuring you with his gentle touch. “These scars are just as beautiful as the rest of you, because they’re a part of you. I love you my cyare. You’re my everything…”

[soaimagines]

frustrations ♡

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female Reader

Request: Can you please write one where you give Angel head 😫  cause she just wants to be in control and please him for once 

Summary: Reader gives Angel that good gluck gluck 9000 👅

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, language, oral sex

Authors Note: I hope this is okay! its not very long and theres no real plot, just smut. Requests are open for SOA & Mayans MC ♡

Tags: @minnicelli​ | @ifoundmyhappythought​ | @noz4a2​ | @i-shouldbepainting​ | @svintsandghosts​ 

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Masterlist

The last few weeks had been tough on Angel.

You weren’t exactly sure what had gone down. When it came to the club business you didn’t ask too many questions, knowing that he would share with you why he could.  Between that and the tension between him and EZ, Angel had been in a foul mood.

For the most part he took his frustrations out on you; quickies in the clubhouse bathroom, or bent over his bike on the back roads, not that you were complaining. But when the door slammed shut like it did all too often these days, you decided to take charge.

His boots thumped against the carpet as he kicked them off and you stood up from your spot on the bed where you’d been reading and you went to meet him in the hallway.

“Hey mami.” Angel called out.

“Hey baby,” You replied as you entered the living room.

He licked his lips, seeing you in one of his tshirts and your underwear, your bare legs carrying you forward. His eyes were dark with a familiar hunger and he stepped towards you.

“How was your day?” You asked sweetly as you walked towards him.

Angel took a deep breath as he looked you up and down, drinking in the sight of you.

“Better now,”

He placed his hands on your waist and you immediately placed yours on his chest. You pushed him back til his back hit the wall, the whole time his eyes never leaving yours. He leant in for a kiss but before he could you dropped to your knees.

“What are you doing mami?”

You smiled up at him innocently but there was a wild spark in your eyes and you ran your hands up his jeans, your tongue running across your lips hungrily. 

“I wanna taste you, Angel.” You purred, and kissed him through the denim fabric.

He groaned in response and tugged his jeans and his boxers down his thighs in one quick movement, practically drooling when his hard cock sprung free.

“Yeah? You wanna suck my cock princesa?” 

Nodding, you took him in your grasp, running your tongue across your bottom lip as you slowly pumped his cock. You licked the underside of his cock, running your tongue along his vein, your eyes never leaving his. When you reached the tip you swirled your tongue around it before licking back down his shaft. 

With a firm grasp on his cock you pumped him, while you ran your tongue down to his sack. You took one of his balls in your mouth and sucked gently, massaging it with your tongue as you glided your hand up and down his cock.

“Fuck, mama.” 

You pulled away from him, a smug smirk on your face before you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock.

Slowly at first, you moved your head back and forth, letting him feel every inch of his cock enter your mouth. He let out a moan as his tip brushed the back of your throat but you kept going, increasing your speed.  Each time he hit the back of your throat he moaned and this time you didn’t pull back, nuzzling your head against him as his whole cock rested in your mouth.

“Oh mami,” Angel whimpered.

You pulled back slowly, his cock leaving your mouth, a trail of saliva running from your lips to his cock and you pumped him with your hand while you smirked up at him. 

Quickly you whipped your shirt over your head and unclipped your bra, exposing your tits, before taking hold of him once more.

Your mouth was wet with your excess saliva and you spat it onto his cock, using your hand to spread it over him.

“Good girl, querida.” His fingers gripped your hair.

“You gon let me fuck that pretty little mouth?”

“Yes daddy.” You purred.

You licked your lips before wrapping themaround his head once more.

This time he took control, his grip on your hair guiding your mouth back and forth.

“Mmm thats right baby, take my cock.” He growled.

He adjusted his grip, holding you still and this time he moved his hips, pounding his cock into your mouth.

You gripped his thighs, your mouth drooling as he slammed his cock into your throat over and over again. Gagging on his length you pushed him back, your eyes watering and you took him in your hand as you caught your breath.

The sight of your tits glistening with your saliva turned him on so much, and Angel cupped your face, running his thumb over your swollen lips.

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth princesa,” Angel cooed.

You wrapped your mouth around his thumb and sucked gently, earning a low moan.

“C’mere baby, let me fuck that pussy.”

You pulled his hand away from your face and shook your head.

“I wanna taste you, daddy.”

Before he could respond you wrapped your mouth around his cock once more. Both hands took hold of his shaft and you went to work, twisting your hands in opposite directions as you sucked his cock, your lips creating an almost vacuum seal.

“Holy fuck mami,” Angel gasped, his hands clutching out at the wall to find something to grab onto but finding nothing.

You sounded like a pornstar, moaning and gagging and slurping on his cock as your hands moved with your mouth. The way Angel was gasping and moaning only made you wetter but you resisted the urge to stop what you were doing and let him fuck you.

Angel moaned through staggered breaths, his hands clenched into fists as he stared down at you, fixated on the things you were doing to him. Your hands were glistening with your own saliva and it ran down your neck, covering your tits.

“Fuck you feel so good princesa,” he groaned, his breathing hitched.

You kept going, slobbering your mouth up and down his cock as your panties became wetter and wetter with every moan that left his lips.

“Fuck yes, my dirty little puta,” he husked, his voice getting raspier as he came closer to finishing. “You wanna taste my cum, huh.”

This time you moaned for him and Angel hissed.

“Fuck I’m so close mami,” 

It doesn’t stop you. Instead it makes you work harder, your mouth bobbing faster as caress his balls with your hands, careful not to lose your grip or momentum on his cock.

“Oh fuck!” Angel trembled as his warm load shot into your mouth. His cum filled your mouth, mere droplets escaping your lips as you swallowed the majority of his seed.

 “Holy shit!” Angel gasped, as you kept going, though slightly slower, enjoying the way your movements made his body tremble and gasp.

“Fuck mama,” 

Slowly you released your grip, and your lips left him with a ‘pop’.

Angel glanced down, watching as you used your finger to wipe up the drips of cum that had escaped your mouth and sucked them of your fingers.

He groaned at the sight of you, mascara streaks down your cheeks, swollen lips, saliva coating your tits. 

He’d never came like that before, that much or that hard and he studied you in amazement as you slowly rises to your feet.

“You okay daddy?” You laughed, seeing his deep breaths as he recovered.

“Holy shit.”

You laughed again, grabbing your shirt off the floor and using it to wipe the saliva off your chest.

He shook his head in awe.

“I fucking love you, mami.” 

[1dclicheficfest]

The time has come, my dears! We’ve compiled, organized and sorted your submissions and we’re ready to share them! We’ve had so much fun reading your clichés and we hope it’ll give you a good laugh.

Important disclaimer because it has to be said: we do not endorse any of the clichés submitted and these are not meant to spark Discourse™ . This is all in good fun, to spark your imagination and perhaps inspire some prompts!

Before we get to the fun part, don’t forget that prompt submissions open on February 1st and will run until March 28th. The full schedule can be found here.

And now, without further ado, here are your brilliant clichés.

HARRY

Green eyes

Huge eyes

Dimples

Always smirking

“The flirt”

Jobs: Works in a flower shop/Used to be a baker/Frat boy/LA socialite/Mermaid

“Quirky”

Clumsy/balance issues

Health nut/Workout junkie/Eats a lot of avocado and kale/loves yoga/gross green health smoothies

Very slow speech

Paints his nails

Beautiful long luscious curly hair

Long legs/large hands

Tall/large/big

Nudity/loves walking around starkers

Obsessed with being pregnant/babies

Kind to everyone

Bites his lip a lot

Tells terrible jokes/loves puns

Naive and oblivious

Clothing: Pearl necklace, Chelsea boots/gold boots/boots in general/Gucci everything/Flared, high-waisted trousers/’red and black sheer floral shirt with black skinny jeans’

Always unbuttons his shirt to show off tattoos

Baby seal laugh

Bad at driving

Hipster/takes artsy photos

Acting out for attention/Petty jealousy for no reason or because of a misunderstanding or when anyone comes near Louis

Bad dancer that gives it his all/makes awkward shapes with his limbs when trying to dance

Cat mom/Wine aunt

Resting bitch face

Rides a motorcycle

LIAM

Little clueless

Insecure

Louis is constantly messing with him

Roommates with Louis

Puppy/a lost puppy/puppy in human form/puppy eyes/puppy who doesn’t know how hot and strong he is/loves puppies

Manly muscle man/buff af/loves working out/sweet himbo beefcake

Bullied in the past

Giant heart/incredibly kind/soft/super loyal

Worry-wart/mother hen of the band/gets nervous when things don’t go to plan

Voice of reason/the responsible one/Daddy Direction/level-headed/most serious of the five/keeps the others grounded

Doesn’t know how to let loose and have fun

Lacking in experience/innocent about sex things

Oblivious to his feelings/other people’s feelings for him

Jobs: Firefighter/boxer/athlete

Super soft for Zayn

Protective

“Wants to cry as soon as Louis opens his mouth and doesn’t know if it’s because he’s scared, because it’s too funny, or because he just can’t handle any of it.”

Fear of spoons

Timid/

“being very shy/awkward in the beginning and then getting more confident because of Louis”

Snake habitat turn around!

Can’t spell

His turtle losing a foot

“Smelly pasta house”

Loves batman

Being alpha in ABOs

Unruly curly hair then trimmed to a crisp buzz

LOUIS

Blue eyes: ocean blue/blue as the sky on a sunny winter day/twinkle eyes

Arse and/or tummy as a defining feature

Sassy/sass master/feisty/snarky/cheeky/witty/playful/funny/sarcastic/joker

Flamboyant

Heart of gold/”Louis IS the sun”

“Does not suffer fools gladly (that’s your job you fooking loosah)”/hot-headed to pick fights only in defense of those he loves

Protective/Mama bear/loyal/Daddy of the group

Small/Dainty stature emphasized

Runs fingers through his fringe/hair always styled

Jobs: Footie player, teacher, drama teacher, actor, plays in a band

Loves music and writes songs

Plays footie (even if it’s not his job)

LOUD

Can’t cook/chicken wrapped in parma/”Can’t cook to save his life and if he does the kitchen ends up in flames”

Soft with Harry

School: Studying drama, being the bad boy, pop!punk Louis

Bratty/petty/snappy

Smoking

Zayn’s partner in crime

Rooms with Liam

Calls everyone ‘love’/uses too many terms of endearment

Yorkshire accent emphasized/always talks about Doncaster

Clothing: Vans or Adidas shoes/Toms/trackies/braces/red jeans/dressing in comfortable clothes only/no socks/scarf

Very good with kids/loves kids/family-oriented/looking after siblings/having a huge family

Eats junk food only

“The gay who cannot drive”

NIALL

Drinks a lot/Drinks everyone under the table because he’s Irish/Guinness lover/fun drunk/Will sing Gaelic folk songs when drunk/big social drinker-always making friends via alcohol/will kiss anyone when drunk

Food: Eats all the food/doesn’t season his food/loves Nando’s/”100% will take the last slice of pizza and not feel bad about it”/can and will eat you out of house and home/actually eats and cooks healthy but everyone thinks the opposite

Irish/Irish and proud/Wey Hey lads!/leprechaun Niall

Carefree/nothing bothers him

Romantic: falls fast and hard

Captain Niall!/Captain of the ship(s)

Music: guitar always present/Goes into the zone when he has an instrument in his hands - nothing will distract or get through to him/The Eagles fanboy/Damien Rice fanboy

Funny/always laughing/joking around/head back cackle of a laugh

Single/hooks up with a ton of people but no serious relationships/sleeps around/Serial Ladies man/Friends with benefits with multiple people at once/

Turns up the charm 100% and never half-asses it/”Scrunches his hair in thought and knows he looks cute doing so (like girls that purposefully bite their lip)”

Friends with literally everyone/has a thousand surface-level friends that think they’re close to him but keeps all at arm’s length/the greatest friend but also pickiest about who he becomes friends with

Clothing: Constantly shirtless/shorts over trousers/flip-flops as house shoes/gold chain/coin necklace/hoop earring/”golf dad that tucks in his shirts and unironically wears polos”

Obsessed with golf and football/practices his putt in the hallway with an empty loo roll

A bro

Secretly insightful/Tactless but gives essential advice as a result

Secretive/keeps his shit quiet/Definitely the guy with the most secrets

The blond one

Hairy chest

Worst poker face

Finger guns/peace signs

Blushes when he’s excited

Adores Shawn and Lewis

Cares a lot about what others think

Says no judgment but really judges a lot/judges you based on music taste

Rings in at 0 on the gaydar but could surprise you/the only het one

Tries to avoid conflict by remaining ‘on the fence’ and not picking a side

Always the roommate

Face mask selfies

Emotions rotate between sad, sexy, and fun - combination vary

Never a villain

Close with Harry

“Violent masturbating in the next room”

Constant pet names for everyone/”Even has pet names for his devices (like his vacuum robot”

ZAYN

Super smart/nerd/wise/The Ravenclaw

Smokes a lot

Secretly very soft/gentle/biggest heart/”His confidence and aloofness hide a sensitive heart of gold”/Bad boy secretly soft

Heart-eyes at Liam/Soft with Liam/”Lee-yum”

Mysterious eyes

Best friends with Louis

Jobs: Artist, tattoo artist, English teacher who loves art, works in comic book store,

Shy/withdrawn/mysterious/brooding best friend/quiet/”Seems intimidating until you realize he’s just shy”/bad boy outside, soft boy inside/”not as cool as he seems but way sweeter”

The artistic one/tortured artist/art student/skater/also does graffiti/spray-paint

Marvel fan/comic book fan/superhero fan

Clothing: Wears his clothes like armor/leather jacket/”He’s the only one with good taste and he knows it”

Most ‘devil may care’ about his sexuality

Family-oriented/family man

Involved with his religion

Model figure/carved by gods/vain but not obnoxious about it

Catchprase is ‘sick’

Needs time alone to recharge

Changes his hair a lot/that one strand of hair that falls over his eyes

Thinks Malibu is called Malabami

“Eats candy underwear off of Harry’s crotch”

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

I JUST GOT HOME FROM WORK AND SAW YOUR POST SO I HOPE I SENT THIS IN IN TIME, BUT DADDY!CLYDE TRAINING HIS BABYGIRL TO LACTATE WITHOUT BEING PREGNANT (BECAUSE THAT IS 100% A CLYDE KINK) AND BEING SO PROUD OF HER WHEN SHE FINALLY STARTS PRODUCING AND HE CANT STOP SUCKING ON HER TITS. OKAY LOVE YOU BYEEE!!❤️❤️

@clydesfavoritegirl SO, I HAVE BEEN WRACKING MY BRAIN ABOUT THIS AND I HAVE A WIERD THOT ABOUT IT. 

So, little fun facts about Sara, I have had a baby (she’s five now), I breastfed for about a year (very hard to keep up), and I have also donated my eggs for other people to have babies in the future. All of this mentioned above is not easy to accomplish and requires patience and willpower to do. 

Any way you have a child is valid no matter which avenue you are given in life. If you want kids by all means have them, if you don’t that’s totally and completely fine. If you want to use formula to feed them, do it queen all the power to you, the same goes for breastfeeding. Adoption is just as important as shooting baby out yourself and surrogates are true angels in my eyes. I had not considered this lactation thing until I did research on it, because I really wanted to know if it was possible to accomplish, and it is. 

Upon my research I saw that it takes months and months of hormone therapy to produce milk without being pregnant and even then, doctors prescribe it for couples adopting and or trying surrogacy for new babies coming into the family. SO, that being said, I can twist this into maybe Clyde and yourself looking at adopting or using a surrogate for a child, and you want to try to breastfeed them because you want to bond with your new baby. And of course Clyde is ALL about it because anything that makes you happy and comfortable!

PLEASE INDULGE MY THOTS ON OUR SOUTHERN BELL CLYDE AND HIS INEVITABLE LACTATION KINK.... 

**I’m gonna put warnings on here because it mentions some heavy stuff (plz don’t read if you are triggered by any of this): Infertility, hormone therapy, angst, depression, adoption, and surrogacy**

“Baby girl?” Clyde calls from the living room, his nose deep in the baby books you both had purchased over the months of trying to start your big happy family, fumbling though his phone at the same time.

“What’s goin’ on big bear?” you chime, busy fixing yourself up in the mirror after a relaxing shower to wash the sex from your skin after a session with big daddy. 

Adjusting you hair, wincing as you lifted your arms, “Jesus,” groaning out, feeling the soreness from your heaving breasts as they felt like concrete on your chest. 

_______________

Ever since you'd begun the injections and pills, your body was hating life. The raging hormone cocktails running through your bloodstream causing every single emotion to emit from your body at once. 

You’d be happy and cheery one second, followed by crying in your shared bed under the sheets in the fetal position, and finally raging about the fact that the TV was turned too damn loud in the other room, when it all actuality it was the same level you’d always kept it at. 

No matter the tears and agony, Clyde and yourself took all of this one day at a time, just as you had when you found out that children may not be a possibility when it came to the old fashion way of doin’ it. The pain was so hard to bear that day. You cried and cried, locking yourself away from the world as you cursed whomever was in charge of your fate, feeling like less of a woman the more the days droned on. 

It took a few months for you to smile again, Clyde painstakingly trying to solve your problems with everything under the sun, reading books, catering to your needs, holding you when you sobbed yourself to sleep over your vacancy. 

Cradling you when you felt like less of a person for not being able to accomplish one simple thing you’d both hoped for in the future. He’d hush your tears away, forcing you into him as he felt you shudder during the night, silent tears falling from his face as he prayed for some kind of sign or solution to all of this. 

Then it all fell into place one day. Clyde was working his ass off during the nights, leaving you to stew about things at home, which inevitably led you to the internet. 

You looked up all kinds of solutions, message boards talking about infertility, therapies, injections, adoption, and surrogacy. All of them possible in your eyes if it played out like it had for the folks at the various agencies you’d looked up. Finally, a glimmer of hope in this shit-storm of uncertainty, as you glanced over the testimonials and pictures of various families, so happy with their children healthy and happy. 

“This is it,” you had muttered under your breath, a flutter from deep in your stomach causing tears to well up in your eyes as you thought about Clyde and you taking home a sweet new addition. 

You’d brought it up to him immediately upon entering the house at and ungodly hour, to which you were scolded by your big bear after you’d made your sales pitch to him. 

“I think it sounds perfect baby girl,” he cooed as you both laid in bed that night, caressing your sweat sheened skin after a good punishing from his cock, “if ya want ta do it, m’ happy with anything ya want,” whispering as he felt you sink into him to relax for the first time in months. 

“I jus’ wanna make ya happy to big bear,” kissing his thick chest as you inhaled his musk, “I think this is the way we can have that family we want,” ghosting your lips up his sternum as he sighed into your touch. 

“Mhmm,” he embraced you further, “I’ll adopt as many babies as ya want honey. Yer jus’ gonna be the best momma regardless,” hearing your light cries in the quiet of the darkened bedroom. 

“T-thank you big bear,” you strained out, still hiding in his neck as the tears spilled, “I can’t wait ta make ya a real daddy finally,” gripping the back of his neck as you fell into another chorus of cries. 

_____________

“What’s up?” your v-neck t-shirt straining on your heaving tits, the bra you’d picked certainly not fitting you as the days went on and on. 

“I think I found the pump ya were wantin’,” he gulped, seeing the peaches poking through your top half as you bent forward to look at the contraption he’d found. 

“Oh ya!” you jumped slightly, your tits bouncing in a ripple at your excitement, causing Clyde to salivate at the sight. 

“Thank ya big bear!” jumping into his lap as you pulled him to you, kissing his cheeks as he buried his face in your pillows, running his thick hands over your sweatpants. 

“A-anythin’ fer ma baby girl,” he panted, burying his prominent nose deeper into your rock hard tits, “Gah damn yer so juicy darlin’,” lifting his head to place pecks all over the tops of them. 

“Ya like ma milky titties baby?” biting your lip as he started sucking a mark over the soft skin, “ya wanna taste a mama’s milk?” cooing in his ear as he moaned into his make out session with your chest, rubbing his head to press it further in the valley of them. 

“Ya think they’re finally full baby girl?” he glanced up, his eyes glimmering with love and lust in the same gaze. You pet his precious face, the hopeful look only making this more special as he’d been helping you with your injections since you’d gotten the go ahead from the doctor and the agency. 

“I think so daddy,” feeling them tense up at your words, the soreness pulsing all the way to both nipples as you tried to avoid making faces in front of him. He helped you remove your fresh top, exposing your lacy bra, the skin popping out with colored veins, gravid from the fullness of them. 

“Fuck me,” he drooled, reaching behind to undo the clasp, eyes widening even further when he saw them perked up out of their hiding spot. The nipples taut and ready for his lips to suck on at his leisure. 

“Ya look so damn perty baby girl,” raising his hand to grip the skin, feeling how heavy they were on your chest, “ya want daddy ta see if they’re ready ta go?” practically begging as he ran a thumb over the sensitive nipple. 

You reared your head back at the slight touches he made, “please daddy,” whining as he watched you fall apart from his motions, “suck on my tits big bear,” shoving your chest closer to his waiting mouth as he inhaled deep, a growl brewing as he went to latch his pink lips on your areola. 

“Mother fuck!” you cried out, the pleasure releasing from your throat as he sealed himself on your tit, massaging the sore skin as he coaxed the sweet liquid to fall from it. 

He vacuum sealed his lips, sucking lightly at first, feeling you writhe and find the back of his to grip his mane, pushing him further into your warm skin. 

“O-oh g-god baby,” you moaned out, feeling a burning feeling build in your boob that felt both uncomfortable and welcoming as he sped up his jaw on your nipple. 

“Mhmmmm,” he whined out, feeling the body temperature liquid seep from your tit, coating the insides of his mouth in a warm embrace as he sucked more and more. 

Just then, you felt your other tit release a trickle of fluid, the stream of white beautiful in contrast to your skin as you glanced down in awe and pleasure. The cement block feeling escaping as Clyde sucked down your sweet nectar. 

“Oh f-fuck d-daddy,” you gasped, a mixture of elation leaving your body, “I-I’m l-leakin’,” you winced out, feeling Clyde let up on your boob, picking his head up to reveal a white sheen covering his lips and part of his mustache. 

“That ya are darlin’,” he eyes completely dilated as he looked over at your stream sliding down the underside of your neglected tit, making its way down your stomach in a perfect line, “yer doin’ such a good job baby girl.” 

Gripping the other tit in his large hand, coaxing the nipple into his mouth sucking your sweetness down in a frenzy. Your hand massaging the back of his head as you arched your back into his motions, feeling a huge relief as he emptied your other aching tit. 

He lifted his head in a gasp, wiping his mouth from the mess he’d made, watching as your sultry eyes bored into him. The both of you panting and elated at the hard work it had taken to accomplish this huge step. 

“Ya perfect, baby girl,” inching his lips to yours as you tasted your milk in his mouth, sighing into his tongue wrapping around yours. 

He pulled away for a moment, the noticeable bulge in his jeans ever present as he fulfilled his fantasies he’d had since he’d met you, “I don’t think m’ gonna be able ta keep up with these tits though as much as I’d like ta suck on ‘em fer every damn meal,” giggling as he lowered his mouth to your neck, sucking more marks on the skin as you mewled under him. 

“Don’t worry big bear,” you purred, gripping his hair again, arching yourself into his lips, “ya can help me when I get that pump we saw,” feeling him smirk under your neck at the prospect of him watching that show. 

“But fer now,” you lifted him by the ears to gaze into his precious eyes, “I think mama needs ta take care a daddy,” gesturing to his now tented erection. 

“Please mama,” he begged, watching you get up from your spot to curl and index finger as you backed into your bedroom again for round two. 

___________

God I hope I did this ask alright for you honey! Thank you for sending it in so I could learn something from it, as well as indulge in this juicy Clyde thot!

oneshot taglist: @maybe-your-left, @safarigirlsp, @clydesfavoritegirl, @emeraldsiren20, @thepalaceofmelanie, @bpdbensoloblog, @hopeamarsu, @caillea

🖤,

ray-nal-beads 

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Karen.”

Sorry guys. I have to post this really quick, sorry for spelling errors. Don’t worry about the Drev translations, they arent important

The civilian transport was very lucky.

In fact it was very lucky for a couple of reasons, the first being that it was only their secondary engine which had malfunctioned, not the warp core, second because at least their life support still worked, and three that they were close enough to an outpost , that their S.O.S was received in under a day by a very bored Tesraki, and an overly-talkative Rundi.

Their last stroke of luck might have been that there just so happened to be a UNSC ship passing by, on their way to the same original destination.

In fact, the civilian transport, piloted by some kind of space cruise company, offering interstellar tours, was attached to the harbinger in under an hour opening the doors and flooding the civilians with fresh cool air.

Krill was waiting with doctor Katie on the loading ramp just in case the civilians were in need of some sort of medical attention. He didn’t exactly have much experience with civilians. The harbinger was crewed, in large part, by military personnel and the occasional government contractor, so most of them were relatively professional, and most, if not all of them , were required to go through extensive training and physical testing before leaving their planet.

As the civilian humans disembarked, Krill got a sudden taste of human tourism.

Some very, very large humans, wearing widely unmatching clothing and strangely patterned shirts toddling through the doors with so much excess weight, he wondered how the human skeleton was capable of supporting such an egregious amount without simply imploding and turning to dust. The health implications were absolutely horrendous, and made him cringe to think about.

And if they weren’t big and colorfully dressed, they were rail thin, with plastic faces and puffy lips, the mark of cosmetic surgery done poorly. And with them they brought a hoard of screaming children, and moody teenagers their heads down glowering at their implanted communication devices, though Krill could hardly blame them from their moodiness.

A few more normal humans were there of course, averaging between the two extremes, and dressed conservatively for travel looking absolutely done with the entire thing and relieved when they stepped onto the cargo deck.

“Well it is about time!”

Krill and Dr. Katie turned their heads just in time to see the last human disembark shoving past the other guests and onto the floor, dragging with her two teenagers, one young child and her apologetic looking husband “It sure did take you long enough. And I swear once I have time I am going to be complaining to customer service. I will be complaining to the travel agency, and to the transport agency and.” She turned to glower at Dr. Katie and Dr. Krill,” And I will be complaining to you, whoever you people are for taking so long to show up.”

Krill glanced up at the woman who was only growing closer and closer, ominously looming over them. From this distance Krill got a better look of her badly maintained A line haircut, and her patchy blonde dye job with layers. She had a look on her face that were to suggest she perpetually had something sour in her mouth

Dr. Katie sighed, “Sorry ma’am. I can’t help you, I am a civilian medical contractor, not a member of the UNSC. I am just here to deal with any medical issues that you may have experienced during the malfunction.”

“Of course you’re UNSC, you work on the ship don’t you?”

Katie tried to remain patient, “Yes, I work on the ship, but like I said before I am a civilian contractor and have no ability to help you with your complaints. Is there any medical issue that I can help you with.”

“I demand a refund at once.”

Dr. katie Sighed, “I am a Dr. and I do not work for your touring company either. I am a private civilian medical contractor.” 

“And that was not a medical issue.” Krill added already annoyed.

By this time, the woman hadn’t even semed to notice him, but as soon as he spoke, she turned her eyes down towards him and screamed. She made a big show of falling backwards hand over her heart as if she had been shocked, “What is that!” Dr. Katie frowned, “This is Dr. krill, our OTHER civilian medical contractor.”

“Get it out of here, Immediately! I demand it be removed.” She backed away towards her family, “How dare you do something like this, my daughter has arachnophobia. I demand he be removed immediately”

Dr. Katie was frowning openly now, “I am not going to remove him from the deck. He is our chief medical officer, and not an arachnid. That is very rude, you may not know but it is considered a very offensive slur to call Vrul by those terms.”

“I don’t care, can’t you see what it is doing to my daughter!”

Dr. Katie and Dr. Krill turned to look at the teenage daughter, who, at that very moment looked like she wished to melt through the floor. It seemed that having all blood boiled out her ears in the vacuum of space would be way more preferable to this. Her husband was hiding his face, though no one said anything.

Behind her, the other tourists were looking wildly uncomfortable.

One of the large, colorful gentlemen stepped forward, “Why don’t we all just calm down, they are only trying to do their jobs.”

“Yeah, didn’t you hear them. They are civilian contractors.”

“You mind your own business.” She snapped turning back to the two of them. Behind her, her youngest son had gotten bored of the conversation and had wandered off. As they watched he busied himself with terrorizing the cargo crew darting in front of cargo carriers and screaming at the top of his lungs once he realized he could make his voice echo back to him.

“Ma’am, could you please get your son.” Dr Katie began, but was cut off.

“He can do what he wants. Don’t your bring my baby into this.”

“Mom-” The teenager began.

“Quiet Terrance.”

The boy shut his mouth joining his sister in wanting to melt through the floor.

She jabbed a finger at Krill, “Get that bug out of here NOW before I am forced to call someone.”

Krill watched in detached awe as Dr. katie grew very still. Her lips were drawn into a thing line, and the eyes behind her glasses narrowed sharply brows plunging, “I will not.” He was worried for a moment that Katie was going to flat out deck this woman, but she kept her cool, though her hands were balled into fists.

“I demand to speak with the manager!” The woman began screaming stomping her foot like a toddler.”

“Fine.” Doctor katie growled through clenched teeth, turning to look down at her implant before sending a text. 

The woman looked very smug sitting back with her arms crossed as Dr. katie and Krill were finally allowed to begin their work, going around to the other civilians and asking if they were feeling alright. The big colorful man, with the surprisingly pleasant voice  whispered an apology to them, “She's been a nightmare the whole trip. My wife and I were just coming out to gamble in some of those Tesraki casinos, you know try the exotic food, but she insisted that her son can’t eat any of that and that it shouldn’t be served on the ship or else he'd have some horrible allergic reaction. Honestly it's probably a load of bullshit.” 

His wife placed a hand on his arm, “Herold.” She scolded quietly 

“Sorry, dear. Anyway, you two are doing a great job.” Before looking down at Krill, “Watch out, there are some real xenophobes around these parts, and she might just be one of them.” 

In the background her kid was still making a mess bringing everything in the hold to a complete standstill.

Krill was appalled and almost impressed at how horrible this all was

There was a clattering towards the end of the room, and the group of them turned to see commander Vir, Sunny and a group of other drev walk into the space..

“Zha dah nee to chatahach nehkasi.”

“Zha janaik.”

“Tsa dee.”

“Geesee zha dee.”

“Nin tsa kasish, Chalan.”

“Zha nehrekazi. Zha lad nee gengi kasat.”

The group of them stopped in their tracks cutting their conversation mid go as the kid ran past them screaming, nearly knocking a pallet of crates off balance as he went.

Commander Vir frowned, “Hey! Knock it off!” The kid paused in his tracks a defiant expression in his eyes, and looked about ready to do something stupid. However a group of three Hulking Drev, and one eyeless human was enough  to send him scurrying to his mother, who was not happy.

She marched forward, “how dare you speak to my son like that. Who exactly do you think you are.”

“And who are you?” The commander asked.

“A paying customer.”

The commander looked confused, “Paying for what?” 

“Don’t play coy with me. You now what.”

“I can honestly tell you that I don’t know.” He turned his head back to the Drev “Nijeesh”, and motioned them off knowing this was going to take a while

She screeched, “Stop speaking to them in that language, this is a human ship! Speak human!” Krill an the other Drev looked on in confusion, considering that there were a couple of human languages to choose form, making her argument extra stupid.

“I paid for this tour, and now I demand to speak with your manager.”

The commander folded his arms, “We aren’t part of the tour company, we are part of the UNSC.”

“I don’t care.”

“Ma’am I cannot help you with the tour company. THe UNSC has nothing to do with civilian tours.”

She held up a hand in front of his face, “No, I won’t be talking to you anymore, not until is see a manager.” She snapped her fingers.

A small spark of fire lit in the man’s eyes, “I AM the manager.”

She laughed, barking like a condescending seal, “Don’t lie to me boy, you are too young. Now let me talk to an adult. The REAL manager.”

Commander Vir stared at her mouth open completely nonplussed, “I’m 25.”

“Exactly, clearly not old enough.”

He just held out his hands lost for words for a long moment before, a subtle change appeared in his expression. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, “My apologies, ma’am, we don’t technically have a manager aboard the ship, but this just so happens to be the UNSC Harbinger, so maybe I can get Commander Vir to speak with you.” 

Her eyes lit up hungrily at that. And Krill stared on in wonder and fascination.

“yes , I will speak with the commander.”

Her two teenagers looked up from their shame, and Krill could tell by the wide eyed expressions on their faces, they knew exactly who their mother was talking to. Both of their faces went beat red.

Commander Vir turned walked a few steps turned around and walked back standing up straighter, ‘Hello ma’am I am Fleet Commander Vir of the UNSC Harbinger, how may I be of assistance.”

The woman looked livid, “This isn’t funny! Now get me the real commander now!”

“mom/” One of her kids hissed.

She held out a finger.

“Mom!”

She turned to glare angrily at her child, “Not while the adults are speaking terrance.”

“But mom! He IS the commander!”

She turned to glower at her son, who was brandishing his implant with a picture of Adam in uniform, one of the images used for the movie.

It was time for her husband to speak up, “Dear…. He’s the one from that movie…” he trailed off.

She whirled around to face him face red with embarrassment as he stood there with a shit eating grin, but then, in her embarrassment, doubled down even harder, “Well no wonder this place is so poorly run. You’re too young to have the position you do. Is there someone ELSE more experienced I  can speak with.”

Commander Vir just stared at her, “Ma’am I am the highest power you are ever going to talk to. Even if I was god's secretary, you wouldn't get past the door. Now shut up get your crotch goblin, under contorl and keep your xenophobic agest ass quiet. I am not going to bother being polite to someone who has openly thrown speciesest slurs at my crew.” He motioned to the other passengers, “The rest of you are welcome onto the crew deck for the time being.” The rest of her family members visibly wilted, “Your two kids and your husband are allowed as well, but until you can learn a little respect, and treat my crew the way they deserve, you and your youngest can stay on the civilian transport alone.” 

From where she stood next to Krill, Dr. Katie giggled, “I love it when he gets all righteous indignation.” Krill had to agree with her.

Watching him turn and leave the woman speechless with fury behind him was extremely satisfying. 

[hitsuackerman]

Build a Fortress (Hawks x Reader)

Prompt: Hawks randomly enters your apartment with two bags filled with vacuum sealed pillows and a strong intent to battle.

Contains: Fluff

It was rather peaceful in your apartment. The balcony doors were open letting the cold night wind enter. You were too engrossed in the show you were watching. With a tub of ice cream on one hand, you dip a slice of bread causing the surface to dent. Ice cream and bread were your guilty pleasures each time you would watch this particular show.

With eyes glued to the TV, you failed to notice the entry of your boss. The boss who was also known as Japan’s #2 Pro-Hero.

Your relationship with Hawks was… unique to say the least. You had begun working for him for about a year now and things were always a rollercoaster ride. It all started when you finally began to get comfortable around his presence. He managed to catch you off guard and flirt like the cheeky birdy he is.

To say that you were flustered would be an understatement. Anyone who didn’t find Hawks attractive would have to be low on IQ, cursed with poor eyesight, or just plain boring. At least that’s what you thought. Stuttering your response only caused him to advance even more. Of course, you liked it. You did, afterall, have a liking for him.

Keeping things professional with him was always a challenge. From back and forth flirting, to one day taking you out on a spontaneous flight at night, it was safe to say that your harbored feelings grew. Yet, you always managed to keep the line present. The thin line of him being a boss and you being his sidekick.

“C’mon Chicken nugget,” That’s what he’d always say. “You gotta try something new! Live on edge and enjoy life!”

How were you supposed to do that when the life you wanted to try was with him? Flirting always made you think that perhaps this would lead to something but that’s all you thought it was. Playful banter that would one day stop when he finds someone else.

When he found out that you were living on the 20th floor, he sent out a memo (but only to you, and you alone) that all employees who possess a balcony should keep it open. In case he would need something from them (or you, to be specific). His plan was all too successful knowing you strayed away from conversation with others. In fact, him being your boss was his lucky card to actually get closer to you.

Now that he was perched on your balcony, his eyes landed on the TV and the back of your head glued to the show he knew was your favorite. Welcoming himself in, he placed the two huge bags he had been carrying. Wanting to get you flustered, he literally jumped and flopped on to your couch. Mission accomplished.

“WHAT THE F-- HAWKS?!” You shrieked. Not at the sight of your boss being beside you. You had been expecting he’d be bound to flap his wings to your apartment. You were shocked at the thought of him seeing you in a loose shirt, messy bun, and the glorious tub of ice cream on hand.

“Hey Chikadee! Whatcha eatin?” His signature smirk caused your heart to flutter and your cheeks to burn. He loved seeing you like this. So calm and relaxed. Not a care in the world.

“What does it look like I’m eating?” You replied and placed the tub on the table. “But more importantly, what the hell are you doing here, Hawks? Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes. There is actually.” His smirk faded. After knowing him for a year, you weren’t exactly sure if this were a joke or something serious. “I can only trust you for this job.”

His eyes seemed to scan around your apartment. Looking at the walls and any possible places for hidden cameras. Pulling his visor down, his eyes glued to yours. Almost like he was anticipating every move you were about to do.

“Let’s have a pillow fort battle!”

THIS OVERSIZED PIDGEON.

“Hawks... “ Your eyes met his. The way he smiled almost seemed as if he knew you were putty in his hands. “Are you here at this time of night, to build pillow fortresses?”

“Somethin’ wrong about wanting to make some late childhood memories with the person you like?” Hawks answered as he stood up and extended a hand towards you. Still wearing his hero costume, the lighting in your living room somehow showed the cuts of his body suit even more. Accepting his hand, he practically tugged you towards him. “That’s a good little birdie~”

“I don’t have enough pillows though…” You scanned and mentally counted just how many pillows your room had to offer. More or less, 30 pieces. Not enough to make a decent fort.

“Worry not, my little lovebird, for I have come prepared!" He was more than glad your space was enough for him to use his wings. Flying over to the huge bags, he handed you one. Inside were vacuum packed XL pillows. Perfect for building fortresses.

"You've been planning this for days, haven't you?" You asked as you counted and strategized your game plan. A small smile tugging the corner of your lips.

"You know me too well." He gave you a wink as he began to unload his sealed pillows.

Looking at your living room, it would be a little tight due to the sofa. Just one look at you and Hawks immediately knew what to do.

"How bout we set aside the sofa to create more space?" He offered. A bunch of his vermillion feathers floating around, waiting for the command. Given the go signal, the feathers went to work. While the sofa and other things were being moved, you took out 4 blankets. 2 for each of you.

Minutes later, the two of you began to build.

Hawks decided to discard his jacket and a few of his feathers. The look on your face priceless when he stuck them like darts on your wall. Still, the way he managed to shape them like a heart caused you to roll your eyes and taze him a bit using your quirk.

"Hey. No kinky stuff now, chicka!" He fought back by sending a bunch of small feathers to tickle your sides. Earning a laugh from you. "How bout we battle who has the sturdiest fort, ey?"

"Oh! I know the perfect accessory!" You clapped your hands as you stood up from your fort. Taking 2 pieces of paper, you formed each of you paper boat hats.

Seeing the way your eyes sparkled as you made your way towards him was more than enough for the winged hero. Standing up, he bowed his head a bit so you could easily crown him with the boat.

"I'll use my small feathers while you use your sparks, fair enough?" 

"Game on, Pidgy!"

Jogging back to your fortress, you began to prep your quirk. Small yellow sparks formed on your fingertips. Across the floor, small red feathers began floating.

It felt as if the whole room went silent. Seeing Hawks' eyes observing you like easy prey made your spine tingle. God, this bird man was beyond the definition of handsome.

Both of you did a small countdown and began the small fight.

Small red feathers and began littering your carpeted floors. Every so often, small sparks would light up the living room. The time came where one of your pillows exploded with a sneaky feather.

Wanting to get even, you sent a rather large spark to his front pillows. White feathers began to fall like snow on his small area. His competitive side emerged and sent some slightly larger feathers. Seeing his action, a rope of electric current went straight for him.

Both of you leaped forward and rolled towards the middle. Both attacks destroyed all pillows on each side. White feathers began falling through the air as the two of you laughed on the floor.

Just as you were about to stand, Hawks grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into a tight hug.

"And who said you could stand up?" Hawks whispered into your ear. "Stay with me like this. Even if only for a while."

Feeling you relax in his arms, he tangled his legs with yours. Laying on his chest, you could hear the sound of his steady heart beating. It was enough to lull you to sleep.

"(Y/N)."

"Hawks?"

"You know you can call me by my first name, right?"

If there was anything to grip on you would. But him in his body suit, the only thing you could do was to clench your fist and bite your lip. Once again, the thin line was starting to fade.

"Why are you like this, Keigo?" Your body was starting to tremble slightly. You felt his arms wrap around your body much tighter. "Why not go for other girls? Or models? Or Pro-Hero's?"

"What's wrong with you? I find you perfect."

"You're my boss."

Shifting his body to the side, he managed to let you use his arm as a pillow. Still, your legs tangled with his and his arm draped around your waist.

"I think we're both aware we crossed that lining months ago, chicken nugget." He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "But, I won't pressure you if you don't want to."

Staring at Hawks from this angle was new. It felt as if he were not Hawks but Keigo Takami and no one else. Seeing him like this felt as if you had just woken up from a dream and your dreams became a reality when his gorgeous yellow eyes looked at yours.

"What… What if I want you to be mine?" Your eyes broke the contact.

His rough hand cupped your cheek. Bringing you back softly into his sincere gaze.

"Then I'll say it if you want." He leaned forward and gave your lips a soft but lingering kiss. "I'm yours, my little lovebird."

Not able to hold it in, you wrapped an arm over his waist and you felt him sit the two of you up. Giving you the right angle to adjust and wrap your arms around his neck.

When you pulled away so slightly, your eyes drifted to his smirking lips.

"Can I… Can I kiss you?"

"Baby bird, you don't have to ask~"

With that he was the one who held your nape and softly pulled you in for another kiss. You kissed him and you kissed him more. And he felt like a little boy being given his Endeavor plushie. Pure unadulterated happiness at finally being able to kiss you back again and again.

By the time you two parted for air, you two were leaning on each other's foreheads. Staring at each other with half hooded eyes. Somehow, your sight drifted to the corner and saw how you still had one pillow standing.

"Looks like I won the battle, Hawks."

Your gasped as a red feather zapped thru the pillow causing it to explode.

"Not a chance, love. Not a chance."

To end the battle with his victory, he pulled you back into his arms and kissed you. Bringing you both to lay down on the floor, finally letting go of the thin line that had already disappeared the moment you flirted back months ago~

[thehomierobbstark]

Eat Your Dinner

Requested by @ljstraightnochaser​!!

Pairing: Erik Killmonger x Reader [#TeamErikDon’tDateWhiteChicks]

A/N: Lmaooooo ummmm I???? Don’t know what this is????? Like the warnings are at the bottom but like i don’t even know if this is a thing and if it is whats its called I literally just had a thought and this is the result anyway hi again you guys I got yelled at last time i posted so @l-auteuse​ heres your tag ma’am!! I literally have no explanation for this story but i hope yall enjoy it!!!  Imma go 🙈 in shame now bye.

Warnings: At the bottom 👇🏿👇🏿👇🏿.

This is for all my lil cute ass black gorditas out there rockin back fat, belly rolls and thick ass thighs that touch!!  x Reader is always gon be black, chubby, and sassy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The carpet was nice.  

Almost a little too nice, though, you thought as you eye the delicate fabric on the floor. It was a beautiful velvet red faux fur rug that laid underneath the glass dinner table, which gave a nice contrast against the dark hardwood flooring.

Erik was so extra for that.  You never thought you could meet a man who would be too bougie for even your taste, but here he was. Acting high siddity.

You snort at your own mental commentary, rolling your eyes at Erik’s home decor.  It catches the attention of the man in question, whose eyes glance away from the iPad he was holding to regard you.

“Something funny?”

Your face immediately drops from the small smirk it was holding, and you shake your head from side to side.

“Good, thats what I thought.  Now sit there and be quiet like the good girl you’re supposed to be.”  He brings the iPad back in front of his face, swiping the stylus across the screen as he starts typing again.

You whimper a little, lips quivering and poking out more than they already were.  This was the first time in the last 20 minutes he’d acknowledged your presence, but he was still being so cold and mean.  

You didn’t want to lose his attention now that you’d gotten it back, so you desperately scoot forward a little closer, trying to make eye contact again.

You even add a little shine to your eyes, looking up at him as innocently as you could.  

Eyes flicking from the screen, he narrows them at you testingly, and you can feel your metaphorical tail tuck between your legs as you shrink back, gulping and looking back down at the carpet.  

Erik shifts himself in his seat, biting his lip with a muffled groan.  You didn’t know it, but you had the cutest little pout of disappointment and frustration on your face that made him want to fuck the shit out of it.

He loved telling you no just so he could see that adorable look on your face, right before caving in and giving you whatever you wanted. His Precious Pouty Princess.

“Look at me babygirl.”

You eyes quickly spring back up to him, wide and hopeful.

“You want my attention?”

“Mmm-hm!” You hum, nodding your head eagerly.  Erik bites his lip, your wanton desperation making him hard.

“Alright, tell you what babygirl.  You eat all your dinner like a good girl, and Daddy will let you have dessert.  How does that sound?”

You nod your head again, wiggling around excitedly.

Pushing himself away from the table, he leans back in his chair, arching a brow at you with a grin.

“Well? Start eating.”

Taking a deep inhale through your nose, you move your head back, slowly letting Erik’s thick fat dick slide out of your throat.  You try to swallow some of the streams of saliva that trail from your lips as you fully release him, but you can’t, and they split, dripping down both his shaft and your chin.  

Finally able to fill your lungs with breath, you clear your throat, flexing your jaw and feeling around the inside of your mouth with your tongue.  

This was the longest you’d throat trained for him, having been on punishment since you got home for your bad behavior earlier.  Usually it was only 10 or 15 minutes you’d spend on your knees keeping his cock warm in your mouth, but this time it was a whole 45 minutes.

20 minutes for your brattiness, and an extra 5 for every time you talked back on the car ride home.

You don’t know when it happened, but you do know at some point in your punishment you’d lost your voice.

It was pretty safe to say you’d learned your lesson.

Pulling your lips into your mouth with a with a swift lick, you reach forward to pick up his heavy dick, smoothly working your hand up towards the tip.  You flick your wrist gently, careful not to tug too hard at his already soggy foreskin.

Returning your mouth to him, you poke out your tongue and flick at the base of his dick, stiffening it as you draw all the way to the top.  Encompassing the tip between your lips, you generously suck and slurp at his cock, savoring the taste of the salty precum leaking from his slit.  

You swallow it hungrily, twisting your hand and milking him as you spend a few more seconds there bobbing up and down.

Erik’s head falls back, the pupils of his eyes pointed somewhere in the back of his skull as he lets out a throaty groan.

The sound tickles at the nerves of your bud, and you squeeze your legs together to try and keep your own excitement at bay.

Like a vacuum seal, you hollow out your cheeks as you come back up, sucking at him tightly before freeing him from your mouth with a wet slurp.  

You look at his tip,  seeing it so swollen and red with arousal.  It almost looked was if it were crying, silky precum once again leaking out and down the length of his shaft and over your gripping fingers.

Leaning forward, you swipe your tongue over your thumb, cleaning it of the mess.  You peek up at Erik and see him staring down at you with a fierce intensity, desire written all over his face.

Biting your lip, you bring his dick to your lips, poking them out to place a soft kiss to his frenulum.  You keep eye contact as you bend down, sticking out your tongue to lap against the underside of his balls as you swallow them into your mouth.

Erik’s eyelids flutter at the feeling, and he can’t help but to close his eyes and let his head fall back again when you start to suck and massage his sac in your mouth.  

“Fuckkkk meeee.”  He moans, whimpering as you let them fall out of your mouth to make circles with your tongue at the skin of his taint before gobbling them back up.

Unbeknownst to him, all that time you’d spent on your knees with him in your mouth gave you the opportunity to get very creative with your plans of apologizing.  And since you weren’t able to use your voice, you had to make use of your mouth in other ways.

“Shiiiiit,”  He hisses and grips your head as you return your attention to his chocolate bar, pumping and twisting your hand around him vigorously as you chase it with your mouth, salivating around him greedily.

You reach with your other hand to push his shirt up and massage his stomach, loving the feeling of his keloids running across your palm as you rub his abs.

The sloppy degrading noises coming from your mouth wrapping around him made his muscles tense, and he clutches his hand in your hair tighter, making you moan out in delicious pain.

“It’s almost time for dessert babygirl. You ready?”  He can barely say the words in between his own groans, his wide eyes looking down at yours to let you know he’s about to burst.

You give an enthusiastic nod one more time, humming and whimpering sweetly for your treat.

He pulls you off of him all of a sudden, giving you three seconds to gather your breath before shoving you back down, holding your head in place as he fucks up into your mouth rough and quick.  

Your hands struggle to hold onto his thighs for leverage as he uses your mouth like a toy, praising you the entire time.

“Fuck, look at you princess.”

“You look so good with my dick down your throat, you know that?”

“Daddy gonna give you a reward. You did such a good job, I’m so proud of you baby.”

“You gonna swallow all this cum like a good little girl? Huh?”

With four more harsh pumps, he was balls deep down your throat, and you feel the first splash of cum hit the back of your throat.

Immediately swallowing, you nudge your head forward, burying your face into his crotch to get every single inch of him in your mouth.

He continues to shoot spurts of his load into you, and you focus on breathing through your nose, relaxing and opening up your throat as you let all his nut slide down it.

When you finally feel the need to swallow, you slowly come off of him inch by inch, guzzling down every drop of his seed and making sure not to let any of it go to waste.

You were so into finishing your mission you didn’t even realize Erik was whining and twitching, the stimulation of your tongue cleaning up and down his pole getting to be too much for him.

Needing to take back some control, he grips your throat, shoving your dangerous mouth away from him, and he bends down, putting his face in yours.

“Open.”

You smile, opening your mouth wide to show him your clean pink mouth, not a drop of white to found anywhere.  You even lift your tongue up to show him the underside.

He smirks at your cockiness, reaching down to pick you up and plop you into his lap, his mouth immediately attaching to yours.  

He kisses you deeply, exploring your mouth with his tongue in both gratitude and eroticism.  That mouth of yours was the best and worst thing about you, and he loved them both equally.

Finally pulling away from the heated make out session, he rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavy as he lets a lazy smile engulf his lips.

“You did a great job with your food, babygirl, I’m so proud of you.  Now let Daddy put his princess to bed.”

With one arm around your back, he lifts you up in his lap, angling himself before slowly letting you descend onto his soaked meaty member, the sound of your choked moan echoing through the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: Smut, Cock Warming, Throat Training?? is that a thing? Daddy!Kink

[elisaphoenix13]

Irresistible Desire

The bar was loud tonight. Quill was out with some work buddies and they were all still wearing their station shirts which had attracted quite a few women to their table in the first hour they were there. A couple of the guys ended up with a lady in their laps but still laughed when Quill turned every single one away watching them leave with a pout. It was what brought up the next question from Wolfe.

"How come we haven't met your boy toy yet?"

Quill huffs. "Because you call him my boy toy."

"Am I wrong?" Wolfe cackles and Quill throws a wadded up napkin at him. "What?! You're always mooning over him and telling us how pretty he is. Have you ever heard the phrase 'Love is blind'?"

Smith points to Wolfe as he looks at Quill. "He has a point. He could be ugly for all we know."

"Smith, even a straight playboy like you would be jealous." Quill smirks and takes a swig of his beer.

The guys laugh when Smith scoffs something along the lines of 'fat chance' and they order another round of beers as they laugh amongst themselves. The subject changed from Quill's spouse to embarrassing stories that the celestial unfortunately had one or two of already, one of them the others didn't consider embarrassing though. They had the garage open while working on the trucks when a couple of girls came by asking for help with their car. They had a flat tire so Quill offered his help and lifted the car to place the jack…

"...and his shirt rips clean off!" Sanchez recounts the story loudly to the girls and other patrons that stood around their table. "Quill ended up tossing the shirt and helping these chicks with their car, and they were drooling the entire time!"

"Okay asshole," Quill starts. "How about when you stuck a metal fork in the toaster?! I'm awful in the kitchen and even I know not to do that!"

Sanchez blushes. "I watched you burn water!"

"At least I own up to my faults." Quill grins.

"I'm just glad you have one." Wolfe says.

Quill laughs and takes another swig of his beer, stopping when he looks across the room at the bar. Directly in his line of sight was an ass perfectly clad in jeans that hugged every bit of said ass and legs, and Quill set his bottle down with a smug grin. The figure was bent over the bar with a beer bottle in hand, and everything out on display for Quill's viewing pleasure. Smith had noticed his change of focus and followed his gaze to the figure at the bar before looking back at the god with a raised brow.

"Uh...Quill? What happened to being happily married?"

"I can still look." Quill smiles and sits up a little before calling out, "Hey baby, did you sit in sugar? Because you got a sweet ass!"

Everyone at the table looks at Quill in bewilderment when he starts using terrible pick up lines, and Smith hits his arm. He says something about how he was taking his looking too far, but the god ignored him and smiled when the figure didn't even turn. Fine, he would play this game.

"Are you butt dialing? Because I swear that ass is calling!" Quill calls again and snickers when the figure finally straightens.

"What the fuck Quill!" Sanchez hisses.

"Relax. It's harmless flirting." Quill says with a wave to his friend.

By now everyone was watching curiously.

"Hey baby, as long as I have a face, you'll have a place to sit!" Quill says loudly and half the people around him groan.

But it did the trick. The figure turned to look at him and honey gold eyes settled on the firefighter before the man grabbed his beer and slowly made his way over. Once the focus of Quill's attention and catcalling stops at their table, the celestial gives him a lopsided smile.

"How about you take a seat? My lap's open." Quill says, ignoring the judgemental look he's getting from Wolfe as the man smiles and rounds the table to slide into his lap.

"Will you stop with the awful pick up lines now?" The man asks.

Quill sighs dramatically and wraps a muscle thick arm around his waist. "I guess."

He picks up his beer and takes another swig as his fellow firefighters gape at him. When Wolfe dives for the god's cell phone, Quill doesn't even try to stop him.

"This is uncool. I'm calling your boy."

Quill shrugs. "Fine. See if I care."

Wolfe scowls and unlocks Quill's phone and looks through it, finally finding Scott's number and hitting the call button. A few moments later, the man reaches back into his back pocket after lifting his hips and pulls out his phone. He turns the screen toward the table to show Quill's contact photo showing as his phone rings, and Wolfe ends the call as he and everyone else gape. It had Scott and Quill bursting into hysterics.

When Quill finally calmed down enough, he motioned toward the younger male in his lap. "Guys, this is Scott, my better half. Scott, those three are my work buddies. Everyone else is just good company."

"Damn, you really are pretty for a guy." Smith finally says.

Sanchez studies Scott. "You look pretty young. What are you? Twenty-five?"

"Add ten years." Scott says with a smile and drinks some of his own beer.

"What the hell?! What's your secret?!" Sanchez gawks.

"Sex." Scott answers casually and Quill chokes on his next swig of beer.

It wasn't a lot, but Quill never expected Scott to admit it so bluntly. While his husband was definitely the bearer of their combined remaining shame, saying that was a surprise. It was usually Quill before getting hit by Scott for sharing. He supposed he was becoming a bad influence on him.

The other firefighters only laughed and fell into easy conversation, Scott of course telling even more embarrassing stories about Quill that happened at home. One was about their newest family member. Quill was wondering in the back of his mind who was keeping an eye on him, and he figured it was probably Cassie. Flynn couldn't be left alone by himself, otherwise they would come home to a trashed floor as well as a screaming fox.

There were already plenty of stories with Flynn. Like the time after Quill first went to work after bringing him home. The kit was so excited to see him when he got home that he jumped up to climb the celestial, but he hadn't jumped high (or low) enough...and ended up headbutting Quill right in his family jewels.

It was already a running joke that a Celestial could be brought to his knees by a baby fox.

Quill was already covering his face from the first story and the raucous laughter that followed and Scott was starting a second story. Specifically the one about the sliding glass door to the balcony on the family floor. Quill had been talking to Sam and they were standing by the doors. He went to lean against the door, but instead just completely fell over, not realizing the door had been open.

Sam still gives him shit about it. Whenever anyone opens the sliding glass door, he turns to find Quill and loudly announces 'The balcony door is open Spacecase! Be careful!' to which the god always flips him off.

Thankfully, Spacecase is a nickname that could easily be interpreted as Airhead, so no one questioned it when Scott said it. They were too busy laughing like retarded seals anyway.

"Hey, you gonna air out all my dirty laundry to these assholes?" Quill complains as he holds Scott closer.

The younger grins. "Laundry! That's another story!" Scott ignores Quill's groan as he lays his forehead on his spouse's shoulder. "His first attempt at laundry ended in a miracle. His second attempt? He put in too much soap so our laundry room was filled with bubbles! Tony laughed his ass off and Flynn had fun." Scott grins.

Smith raises an eyebrow. "Who does your laundry Quill?"

Quill clears his throat with a blush. "Our daughter. Sometimes Scott when he's not busy."

"Cooks?"

"Same." Quill mumbles.

"If you can't cook or do laundry, what the hell do you do?" Wolfe asks.

The Celestial's heart squeezes in his chest. That was a good question. He was a disaster when it came to household chores and whatnot. Sure, he brought in a little bit of money now that he was one of two Captains (he moved up in rank pretty quickly because of his strength and abilities), but was that all he did? Helping move furniture around (or lifting it) so Cassie could vacuum sounded kind of lame, and he couldn't say he regularly fucked his husband into the mattress.

"He protects us." Scott says. "Not just me and Cassie but the rest of us."

"Babe." Quill warns and the younger turns his head to look at him.

"They deserve to know. You're responsible for them now."

Quill deflates. Scott was right. It was one thing when he was a run of the mill firefighter, but now he was their captain. There had already been times when he did something that had them curious, and it was starting to get harder and harder to spin a story about why he was so freakishly strong. So with a nod, he closes the table's tab and has the other three men follow him somewhere out of public eyes (the girls with Smith and Sanchez pouted when they left), and then turns to look at them.

"You guys already know I'm an Avenger." Quill starts and they nod.

"Yeah. You still haven't told us your special abilities or whatever." Sanchez gripes.

"In a way I'm on par with Thor." The god explains. "Just...don't freak out."

After a deep breath, Quill wills his light into his hands, and the three men swear quietly and take a step back, before looking at their captain. To Quill's relief, there wasn't fear, but rather there was excitement and surprise instead.

"You're the Living Beacon?!" Smith sputters and Quill gives him a look.

"The WHAT?! What the fuck kind of name is that?!" Scott snickers from behind him. "It's Starlord, alright?!"

"Okay, okay." Wolfe says. "So what's your story?"

"I was born with these powers. I'm what's called a Celestial. A god."

Sanchez gives him a look. "A god? Like Thor and Loki?"

"They're not gods. That's just what Loki calls them whenever he decides to have a power trip. They can die. I can't. At least not unless you find my core...which I have hidden."

"Well that explains a lot." Smith muses. "I thought I saw your eyes glow last week."

Quill nods. "Yeah, that's my Gaze. It lets me look in on Scott and the girls. I'm still expanding that. I can heal myself and others, you've obviously seen my powers on the news or something...and what Scott said his secret was…it's true."

His three friends stare at him for all of ten seconds before bursting into hysterical laughter.

"Your dick is the literal fountain of youth!" Sanchez cackles.

Quill rolls his eyes. "Alright, alright. Get it out of your system."

He instantly regretted saying that. The three men got out all of the insinuations and innuendos they could think of at the time and it was surprisingly quite a few. While they laughed, Quill's phone started to ring and he answered it and held it up to his ear…

...only to quickly pull it away and wince. There was screaming on the other end, and Quill knew it well enough to know that it was not human. In fact, it was Flynn. He was probably starting to notice that Quill didn't come home at his usual time and was kicking up a fuss.

"Papa...please come home. He's been like this for the past twenty minutes and nothing is helping." Cassie complains.

"We'll be home soon Sunshine. Try giving him one of my shirts?"

"I tried. He actually glared at me and got louder."

Quill chuckles. "Hang in there for a few more minutes." He hangs up and looks at his work buddies who had finally calmed down. At least enough. "We have to go home. My kit is throwing a tantrum."

"Sure. See you in a couple of days." Wolfe says as he snickers. "Try not to infantize your husband in the meantime."

They burst into hysterics again as Quill walks away with an arm around Scott's shoulders, and holds up his other hand to flip them off. They got home within twenty minutes, and Flynn almost instantly quieted when Quill stepped off the elevator.

The little shit ended up bringing Quill to his knees again though.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (02x12)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 2 Episode 11: Far From Home

Season Finale

Warnings: dirty thoughts, a little fluff, good parenting, monsters and men. I am sorry but I am not sorry.

Word Count: I really wanna just leave everything and go live with the monks in the mountains if they allow me to take my laptop with me so I can keep writing.

A/N: Nearly forgot to mention the wonderful @marvel-lous-things for her original creativity that inspired the sam-bucky dialogue. I’ll link the original post here. I also did add some Brooklyn Nine Nine scene in there because I WANT TO AND I CAN!! I MISS B99!

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Why do you have to be so hard?"

Peter, Javier('s camera), Wanda, Vision and you turned your heads towards a very heated Sam trying to walk out of the elevator with Bucky, their bulked up biceps fighting each other to get out of the elevator together, telling the other to go first, but going at it together, eventually looking at the other with a murderous stare. Finally, Sam rushed out before Bucky.

"It's not my fault if you cannot handle my weight," Bucky gruntled lowly, forcing you to exchange some very confused looks with Peter, Wanda and Vision. Vision was more curious than confused like the good young baby AI that he was.

"Handle your weight? Dude, do you know how hard it is to handle your ass when you keep shifting like that? Throwin' me off my rhythm."

What started as confusion now turned into the horror of knowing the unknown, forcing your eyes wide.

"Wha-" Peter tried to ask you in a whisper, but you were already covering his ears, making him look at you questioningly. "You know I'm eighteen, right?"

"I throw you off your rhythm?" Bucky jolted back slightly. "It's you who's always wiggling under me and throwing me off balance!"

"Of course I gotta wiggle, man!" Sam burst out, "you dig your fingers in me so hard! I can't just freeze there when you get rough!"

Now you were covering your ears while all Peter could whisper was, "no, you know what, cover my ears. I liked it better that way. Please. I beg you."

"I only do that because you push us too high, okay!" Bucky argued, compelling you to hide your head inside the couch. Peter just sat there frozen in shock, his eyeballs on the verge of coming out. "You clearly still have no idea how to ride because you're too used to doing it solo."

You whimpered. Peter managed to blink. Hard.

Vision was simply staring at the two of them.

Wanda went by normally shuffling the Uno cards.

"Fine, then I'll go back to solo," Sam raised his hands.

"What, no!" Bucky begged, "I like it! Please, next time I'll won't dig my fingers so hard."

"And no biting."

"It was one time! The first time! I was scared of the freaking high!"

"You bit my shoulder! I said no biting."

"Okay. Okay!"

"All right."

A shake of the hand wrapped around the other's arm sealed the deal before the party looked at the crowd sitting on the lounge floor.

"'Sup," Sam casually greeted the four of you. Bucky just simply waved.

Red . You and Peter were red from your ears to your neck.

You got up, your hands trying to find some sort of support to hold you through everything you were going inside you right now, before ultimately folding them together.

"I'm glad you guys reached a common ground," you pointed out with a forced smile that nearly made your eyes disappear, "but there's um...a bedroom for a reason. Please, think about it before...you know, you guys argue again."

Saying that, you left the lounge, whispering, "Now how the heck do I bleach my memory?"

"Wait, I'm coming with you," Peter announced, getting up and taking your hand to walk out.

"Where are you guys going?" Bucky asked.

"Dr Banner's lab," Peter stated rubbing his arms, "to find out how we can destroy brain cells?"

"But doesn't that affect other functions too?"

"It would be worth it."

Sam and Bucky exchanged a confused look before turning to the two lovers left behind.

Vision shifted his gaze between your figures disappearing behind the wall while Sam and Bucky, contemplated something before turning to Wanda. "I think they were terrified for some reason."

Wanda : Sam and Bucky were talking about their plans to fly. Well, Sam doing the flying while Bucky hangs on his back. Stark showed me the whole carrier thing he made for them. *nods* *sighs* Yeah, Y/N and Peter can't read thoughts now can they. *eyes go wide in some latent thought* That girl has such a graphic memory! She could already imagine everything within seconds. *scrunches nose* in 4K! *shudders*

The Lab

"Pass me that blue vial," Banner murmured near the glass, the camera taking his face shot from the other side of the glass- zooming out to focus on a thin glass-like structure being held by a pair of tongs right in the middle of that vacuumed glass cube.

Long white slender fingers pressed a glass vial filled with the blue liquid right to Bruce's nose, making the scientist jolt a little before looking at the bearer of the hands, sighing, and taking it in his gloved hands.

The lab goggles were adjusted again before the vial was placed in another set of tongs and introduced inside the controlled environment.

This time, behind the glass besides Bruce, Loki showed his face, looking at that thin glass strand with utmost curiosity.

"What forces are you conjuring this time, doctor?"

Bruce shushed him, concentrating on the solution.

"Alright," he got away from the cube to clear his throat, "Friday, take the exact amount right to the very last millimetre and pour the N.A.T. on the compound."

Loki was on the edge of his toes now.

Loki : It is only once in a fortnight that these excuses of humans do something partly entertaining. I wouldn't want to miss it when Banner has another mishap and morphs himself into a rabbit this time. *gazing in the distance fondly* Maybe a purple one. *smiles*

"In three, two..."

Loki was quickly shifting his gaze between the experiment and Bruce. "Oh for the sake of Valhalla! Just do it already!"

"One!"

Flashes and sparks flew the moment the liquid touched the compound, making the two cover their eyes till they were sure the blazes died.

"Experiment ninety-nine point nine-nine percent successful, Doctor Banner."

"What's that, a new floor-cleaner?" you commented, walking inside the lab with Peter.

Loki leaned in to watch the outcome of the experiment while Bruce removed his goggles and gloves, too struck by the final product to contemplate your poor jokes.

"That's..." Loki lost his words, following Bruce's hands as they carefully took out an almost translucent and seemingly delicate piece of a flower made of glass- its petals decorated with capillaries running through them, reflecting softly on their own wavelengths, dancing gracefully, twirling and shifting with the lights falling on them.

"A flower," Loki grumbled.

You and Peter, on the other hand, were gasping out loud- clearly mesmerised by the outcome.

"How did you do that Doctor Banner?!" you exclaimed, not able to contain your excitement.

"Just used the geometric structures of certain compounds to make a piece of art for me," Bruce cajoled, clearly both impressed and shocked with himself.

Loki snorted, catching your attention. "And here I was thinking you were finally making some use of that brain of yours Banner."

"Come on, Loki," you stressed, "this is practically art out of science. Appreciate it. And," you turned around to look at Bruce, wiggling your shoulders as you spoke, "I'm guessing it's for someone special."

Bruce blushed straightaway!

"Uhh..." he tried to hide behind his hands while adjusting his glasses, "It's her birthday. I-I-I asked her when's her birthday once and she told me she didn't remember her real one. Just that today is the date she thinks is her birthday. So, I thought I'd do something special for her."

"Ugh, kill me," Loki complained, stomping- very graciously, his shoulders moving with an angry swing under that dark green t-shirt he was wearing- to the other end of the lab.

You, on the other hand, squealed with utter delight, jumping where you stood. "This is fantastic, Bruce!"

"Thanks!" Bruce glowed, smiling ear to ear. "And do you know it's pretty sturdy. Almost indestructible. And at the same time really delicate."

Bruce : *twirling the flower in his hand with the most tender smile* Just like her. *smiles again* *pauses* *camera pans in his anxious face* Shit, don't tell her I said that.

The camera caught Loki still rolling his eyes at the entire conversation at the other end, bonking the little bobblehead of Hulk kept on Bruce's desk.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! I should bake her some of my molten chocolate cupcakes!"

This caught the God's attention.

"Yes," he declared out of nowhere, composing himself, "that would be a great gesture."

"Oh, but we're out of ingredients. I finished the last batch when Cassie came over," you pointed.

"Well, take one of the cars to the nearest grocery store," Bruce stated matter-of-factly.

Your lips turned into an 'o' before shaking your head. "I can't do that."

"Why not?" Bruce questioned, "I'm sure Tony won't mind."

"Won't mind what?"

The camera swerved to the lab's entrance to watch Tony saunter in.

"Taking one of your cars so she can get the ingredients to make cupcakes for Nat's birthday," Peter answered.

"For everyone," Loki added from his corner.

Tony looked at you and shrugged, "Sure. I don't mind. But I don't want even a single scratch on my cars. Otherwise, Friday can order some for you."

You stood there quiet while everyone looked for an answer.

"Yeah, I think Friday should handle that."

"Oh, come on, Tony!" Bruce huffed, "let her go if she wants to go. I'm sure nothing's gonna happen on the most desolate road in this part of the state."

"No, that's-" you tried to speak, only to be cut short by Tony.

"Okay. Not what I was going for but since you started it, the weirdest shit happens on desolate roads, Bruce!"

"Guys, listen-"

"She'll be in her car," Bruce stressed, "stopping at the grocery store, getting the stuff and coming back. Not to mention Friday'll be there looking out for her."

"Okay, doc-"

"I was talking about responsible driving and you just had to take it to another level!"

"I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DRIVE!"

Silence.

Neither of the science buddies tried to say something, shifting where they stood.

"Well, that solves everything," Loki's words echoed through the air of embarrassment.

The Driveway

"You really don't have to do this."

The camera captured your very concerned face before panning out to show Tony and Loki standing on your either side while Peter sat by the side with his sunglasses on, sipping on some orange soda through a crazy straw.

Peter : *glasses on as he finishes sipping through his crazy straw* *a good wind playing with his hair* Oh, I know how it's gonna go down. *turns his head to the sound of the engine getting louder* Better than a Formula One.

Thank you, Friday," Tony announced as a black SUV comes and stands in the driveway right next to you. He stepped towards it, clicking open the door and gesturing you to move, "In you go."

But you didn't budge. "Yeah, I don't think so." Shaking your head vigorously.

"Why not?" Tony asked point-blank.

"Uh..." you hesitated, taking the corners of your jacket in your fingers and wringing them, "I...I don't think I'm made for driving."

"Everyone is made for everything. What everyone lacks is practice."

Sounds of clapping broke just as Tony concluded, making everyone turn to watch Loki and Peter applauding his words.

"Not bad, Stark," Loki applauded over the soft wind flapping your hair everywhere.

"But-"

"We're just trying something new here, kid," Tony pointed out, shifting the door wider.

You looked at him and then at the car, your fingers nearly ripping the fabric of your jacket apart before a breath of 'ah, screw it’ left your lips and you climbed in."

Tony put on his glasses and moved to the other side, all the while looking at Peter, "there better not be any crumbs and sticky soda on my driveway."

Peter gave him a thumbs-up as continued munching happily on the chips.

The camera now shifted to the dashboard, catching a good angle of the car's inside from the front.

Tony sat in the passenger seat and shut his door the same time Loki sat in the back and shut his.

"Alright then, let's begi-" he began, before stopping short on catching Loki in the back- leaning forward to hear what all Tony had to say, "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know how to drive your modest transport, either," he simply stated.

Tony opened his mouth to say something snarky but you beat him to it.

"Oh, thank God! It sucks being the only adult in the room who does not know how to drive."

Tony looked at you for a moment before settling in his seat. "You can stay but I don't want to hear a peep out of you. Okay, you" he pointed at you with his eyes, "seatbelt."

You quickly let your hands go to your side to bring down the seatbelt and secure it down at the other end. "Now," Tony continued, "look down at the pedals. From your right- gas, brake, clutch. The Gas pedals move the car, the brake will slow it down and bring it to a stop and the clutch will help you shift gears when the speed changes. When the speed goes high on this meter, the gear goes high, When it goes low, we go low. Okay? Try moving the gear and see if it's comfortable. Yes, just like that. Good. See that button with the start/stop sign? Push it when you want to start the car. Yes, you can start it in neutral as well. Once you start the engine you put the gear in drive while pressing down on the clutch. Okay? Wanna try it?"

Your breaths were a little shallow by now. "You sure?" you nearly whimpered.

"Yes, I am. It's okay. I am sitting right here," Tony comforted you.

You looked down at the pedals while your hands gripped hard on the wheels. Taking in one deep breath, you pressed the button and felt the car vibrate a little but never heard the roar of the engine. "Is it broken? I don't think it started-"

"It has a quiet engine," Tony blurted out to stop you from hitting the button again and again.

Making an apologetic face, you wiggled in your seat, straightened your back, checked the mirrors for no reason at all and took another deep breath. "Okay, now I press the clutch and change the gear?"

Tony nodded.

All this time Loki rested his hand in his palm, slowly getting tired of the instructions.

Pressing the clutch, you shifted the gear in drive.

"Perfect," Tony praised you, "now let go of the clutch slowly as you lightly put your foot on the gas."

With excitement in your eyes, you nodded and let go of the pedal. And just as you did, the car jerked, throwing Loki ahead.

"I'm so sorry!" you shouted, in Tony and Loki's direction.

"And this is why you wear a seatbelt," Tony followed with a chuckle, looking at the grunting figure of Loki trying to sit back up.

.

The Driveway

"Yo," Sam greeted Peter as he came out with Bucky, "got kicked out of the house?"

Peter shook his head, slurping his soda, never shifting in his seat that he was clearly well-adjusted in. "Watching Mr Stark teach Y/N how to drive."

Both Sam and Bucky looked at the SUV in the distance jerking and moving before coming to a stop, starting, jerking and moving ahead, suddenly picking up speed, suddenly screeching to a halt before the whole cycle started again.

"Huh."

Peter pointed to his left without looking. "There are chairs in there."

.

Half an Hour Later

"What're you guys doing in the driveway?"

Peter, Sam and Bucky- all three of them flinched hard at Natasha's voice coming from right next to them.

Bucky : She is sneaky. I don't like sneaky.

*camera pans out to show Sam standing behind Bucky with a plushie, throwing it suddenly from Bucky's left*

Bucky : *immediately tilts to the other side while taking out a knife from nowhere to stab the plushie*

Sam : We talked about this! Assess the f****ng target before going 'stab'! *continues in his angry voice* Congratulations! You just killed a plushie!

"Watching Tony teach Y/N how to drive."

Behind Natasha came the huffing figure of Scott carrying bags on bags in both his hands. They looked at the amount he was carrying compared to the bulk in Natasha's hand.

"No wonder you always keep beating me in training!" Scott huffed and tried to breathe through his words. He dropped the bags and let his body go floomf over them. "You're sooo strong," he heaved, "make me like you, senpai ."

"Get off the bags," she stressed, "you'll break the nachos," before turning to the trio with a stern stare, "you fellas really don't have anything to do?"

"We're supporting Y/N," Peter answered, pointing at the car nearly missing the pavement and skidding while making a turn.

But Nat didn't buy it. "What's the bet for?" She finally asked, forcing the trio to look at each other.

"How much time it takes for Tony to lose his cool," Sam admitted, "I'm going for twenty more minutes. Bucky says Tony's already lost his cool. He's just sitting in there crying. Peter thinks he'll last another hour."

The car turned and came towards where all of them sat. Nat took one step back as the vehicle skidded to a halt right next to Peter, the bumper giving him a little bonk on his knees.

The camera shifted to inside the car with three horrified faces trying to find their breaths.

"I told you," you tried but no voice came out of your throat, "I...told...you."

"Okay," Tony breathed, gulping down the horror but still having his hand wrapped around the grab-handle as tightly as humanly possible, "okay. Um...Loki," he announced, "your...turn?"

.

"You bitch," you hissed, "you said you didn't know how to drive!"

The car swerved by the audience effortlessly as they hooted, whistled and cheered.

Loki veered the steering wheel with such professionalism that you cursed him again.

"I swear I didn't!" Loki chuckled with excitement, "this is just so easy and fun!"

"Eyes on the road, Greeny," Tony ordered, but his eyes too were lit and he clearly wasn't holding the handles now, "now show me how you go through those two bars and then back it up."

Loki did what Tony asked, swerving smoothly through the bars, breaking without throwing anyone in the window and, reversing just as smoothly through them.

"Woah!" Tony heard himself saying, "okay now show me that thing Lighting McQueen does in 'Cars'."

Loki scrunched his nose. "The movie we saw last night?"

"Yup!"

"Brace yourselves!"

And saying that, he hit the gas and showed the crowd how to turn right to go left, making Peter and Tony lose their minds in their rush, while Sam landed a 'hot damn!', Bucky and Scott had their jaws dropped. Natasha was the only one not really phased by it.

Natasha : *nonchalantly* He can drive. *does a little head tilt* Good for him.

The vehicle came to a halt near the entrance and you were the first one to get out.

"Hey, Y/N, you did good!" Sam and Nat tried to cheer you up.

"Yeah," was all you said before turning to walk back in.

"Y/N, kid," Tony called out for you, "come on let's give it another shot."

"No, Mr Stark. I think I'm done for the day."

"But we didn't even go about for even an hour. Let's work on your gear shifting without looking at them."

"I don't think that'll hel-"

"We won't know until we try. Come on let's take anoth-"

"I can't!" You nearly shouted, taking everyone by surprise. "I can't Mr Stark! Driving requires me to focus on everything at once and I made not for that! I get distracted so easily. I can't even drive safely on an empty road inside my own home what makes you think I could possibly handle an entire vehicle on a busy road?! And believe me when I say I've been told time and again to change this 'habit' of mine. Well, I can't." You shrugged forcefully. "I really can't. That's how I freakin' am. So, sorry you have to deal with a f****d up kid like me."

Ending that, you walked inside, leaving everyone mum- discreetly looking at Tony before walking back in. Everyone except Loki.

Tony looked at the God, giving him a once-over. "The hell you looking at me like that?"

Loki just crossed his arms across his chest, shaking his head, "She can't drive. She clearly doesn't have the confidence and would have to take a lot to create the natural focus required. Just wondering what you're going to do now."

Tony furrowed his brows at Loki. "What d'ya mean what I'll do? I'll find a way to help with whatever's required. It's not her fault she can't focus or is easily distracted. I'll find something to help her with that too."

Loki : *looking at an invisible void in the distance* huh. I cannot believe I'm saying this but Stark one hell of a father figure. *Pouring his lips* *scrunching his nose* Is that why all these wayward nuisance of beings choose to live with him? *Looks behind the camera* What? I don't see him as a father figure. All I see him is as a bother figure. Always bothering me any chance he gets.

*camera pans out to show Tony standing beside him leaning on the car*

Tony : Would you like me to take you horse-riding?

Loki :

Tony : *arches his brow and places his head on his fist, watching Loki tenderly*

Loki : *not making eye-contact* *softly* that would be great. Thank you

Tony : *pats him the back and leaves* Good job today.

Loki : *closes eyes* *shakes his head* *moans* Yeah, I already feel weird.

.

The Dorms

Tony lightly knocked your door before clicking open a bit and asking if he could come in.

The camera tried to follow him but Tony closed the door behind it, forcing it to go out to the balcony.

He sat down on the edge of your bed looking at the half-finished sketch of a woman.

"You made this?" He turned to ask your figure lying on your stomach with your head towards the footboard.

You nodded.

"Wow!" He whispered with enthusiasm before his eyes caught something in the corner by the window. "Is that a canvas? You've been painting. On a canvas!"

You shrugged. "It's not that hard. Anyways I'm not that good."

"Why do you think that?" He asked as softly as possible. "Have you seen what you create? This is beautiful!"

"This is half-finished."

"Well, it's better than not being created at all!"

You blinked, and a lone tear left your eye to directly vanish in the sheets under you.

"I'm scared," your broken voice declared in a whisper.

"Of what?"

"Of not being able to drive safely. I can hardly focus on what gear to shift while having to quickly judge what pedal to hit. How am I ever supposed to drive when all my senses aren't in the car with me?"

"Hey," he stressed softly, brushing your hair away, "we'll figure it out. And it was just the first day. You already learned which gears are what. And you were really nailing those brakes."

You both giggled.

"There's nothing you cannot do," Tony assured you, his eyes giving you a soft yet stern look, "now stop beating yourself up, get out of these stinky bedsheets and go make sure Peter and Bucky don't burn up my kitchen to figure out your cupcake recipe."

You chortled and Tony looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world right now.

"Wow," Loki's voice came from the opposite corner of the room where he stood with arms crossed ever so casually, "you two really are boring. And cringy."

Tony and you gasped and threw a pillow each at him.

"Get out!" You both said in unison.

.

The Lounge

"You are such a sore loser."

You tilted your head and arched your brows at Loki.

"It wasn't a competition, Loki."

He simply shrugged and popped a grape in his mouth. "Something a loser would say."

"Whatever, man," you muttered, shooing him away as you went towards a very confused Peter hanging down from the ceiling to find out what Bucky was trying to cook.

"Wait." You heard Loki say after you felt a soothing coolness grab your hand lightly, making you turn back to him.

"Hmm?"

"There's-" he looked around to see if anyone was listening- clearly ignoring the camera- before coming back to you, "a thing. I need to learn how to paint. I've heard you're a really good artist. And clearly, I'm not. So, would you help me?"

You : This guy *a smirk lies at the corner of your lips* has the weirdest ways of saying 'I'm sorry, Y/N. I wish I could make your day better'. *nods* *raises shoulders* *bites lips* usually he does.

"Hmm," you pretended to think, "I don't know. Let me just show off my artist skills around a little bit and then I'll start teaching you."

"Oh, you think I'm-I'm trying to make you feel better? Don't make false assumptions, woman!"

"Din meek fils issimtion wimin," you teased him with your scrunched nose, right before Tony walked through the two of you.

"Five-second rule," he announced as your hands parted for Tony to go ahead and he slipped something over Loki's wrist.

"What's this?" Loki looked at the green bracelet that clicked shut over his wrist and did not come undone no matter what he tried.

"Just something to stop you from jumping in rooms unannounced," Tony responded, waving at him as he went away with a happy gait.

"Y/N," Natasha called out from the kitchenette, "you better take over before these boys make something everyone's gonna regret. And no one eats it before midnight!"

“Stark, get me out of this!”

.

Outside The Library

You walked with the camera following you out of the library, running right into Loki.

"Hey, have you seen Mr Stark?"

"No," Loki shook his head, "I rarely look at things I find unappealing."

"I made something for Nat, but I want his opinion on it. Come on," you pressed, taking his hand and pushing him away from the library and towards the lab.

"Stark's opinion? I'm sure Gordon Ramsay would be a better choice than him."

"I'm surprised you know who that is."

"Of course, I know who that is. Everyone fears him. I respect that. And he seems to have a cult!"

You sighed and turned the corner. "He has followers, not a cult. Like fans."

"What's the difference?"

"W-" and you found yourself short of an explanation, glad you were already by the lab's doors.

"Let's just concentrate on you making friends first, okay," you said in your best sarcastic tone, swinging open the door to watch Tony in the middle of the lab, going for the very familiar Pandora's box. The thing similar to the one that had teleported you to another planet.

Everything happened at once in front of the camera.

"DAD, NO!"

The small bag you'd been carrying in your hand fell down on the ground as you ran towards Tony. A shriek left your lungs as you forced him away from the familiar light that came out of the box. Loki was already trying to shield Javier behind the camera while trying to get you away from the path. Tony was not aware of what was happening until he was touching the floor.

And the next second everything disappeared.

The cameras in the lab caught Tony on the ground trying to get up, looking for you.

"Y/N?" He shouted out for you.

"Loki!" He commanded, getting up- not so gracefully- on his feet.

"Javier!" He begged, only to see Bruce, Natasha and Peter rush in from the doors.

"They're gone, Mr Stark," Friday's voice echoed through the silence of the lab, as the man tried to count his breaths while the others rushed to help him.

.

Unknown Place

The camera was blurry. A few sounds came from a distance before the lens shook and was wiped off where it lay- in the desert. It focused on two figures lying just a few feet away.

Javier's figure came in front as he tried to shake up one of them. And just as he did, Loki stirred, grunted and got up with a little difficulty.

Javier tapped his shoulder to get his attention away from his strange surroundings to your unconscious figure lying next to him.

"Y/N," he called out for you tenderly, his eyes scanning for any wounds on your arms or face. "Y/N, wake up," he gently tapped your cheeks and arms. "Y/N," he mildly shook you in vain.

"Y/N STARK!!" he shouted, giving you a good shake, making you get up with a scream.

"What the hell, Loki?!!"

"Come on," he commanded more than requested, taking your arms and helping you stand up.

"W-where are we?"

Javier went out of the frame and the camera was lifted up from the ground to show the barren land you and Loki were looking out to. Shades of yellow went till the horizon with curled up black tree-like structures at various intervals.

"I don't know," Loki sighed, his eyes taking in everything.

You turned around, the camera catching you walk over the rough ground outside the frame. "It's certainly not Earth. I haven't been to this...place before. We must stay close. Javier, do not leave my sight."

"Uhh...Loki?"

"Of course, you too, Y/N."

"No, Loki," you continued, the camera catching your concerned gaze as your hand pointed at something, "look."

The camera turned to face down the little hill that you three stood on to capture a battalion of aliens standing in prime formation at attention. Scales of iridescent gold and brown marked the skin on their shoulders and limbs, claws for hands and feet and a wolf-like face covered in warrior helmets.

"Yeah, suddenly I've started appreciating that old planet-thing I was trapped on," you mentioned, your voice breaking with fear. "You can teleport us back, right?"

"Ye-"

Both you and the camera turned to look at Loki, who was looking down at the amulet on his wrist.

"Stark," he sighed.

"Shit," you cursed, "sorry."

A blowhorn sounded down the hills throughout the valley, making you jump close to Loki, catching the fabric of his Henley from the elbow with your fingers.

"Okay, I've seen The Lord of The Rings enough times to know this is not good!" You nearly shouted with fear.

And just as you uttered those words, the clanking of armour sounded close to you, coming up the hill.

Three of those alien warriors came up, their march quite in unison as the taller, bulkier one walked ahead of the two who seemed to be accompanying him.

The camera stepped farther away as the creatures stepped closer while you tried to be brave yet took a step back so as to let Loki shadow you partially.

The stomps of threatening footsteps stopped nearly seven feet away from you. The stench of something eerie filled the air.

The two aliens at the back stabbed the ground with their metallic staffs, creating a gust of wind along with an incoherent vibrating echo.

The leader stepped forward towards you three, his gait slow and measured, his eyes shining a concentrated mix of purple. You shifted on your feet. Loki didn't.

He stopped right in front of Loki, standing at least two feet taller than him.

"Loki," came a low-pitched growl from the jaw that opened to reveal more fangs inside, "ward of Odin. Son of Laufey. Saviour of Asgard-"

"You could save the titles. It'll take you an entire day to get over half of them," Loki declared without skipping a beat.

The creature paused before taking out his sword from its sheath, making you step back.

"Loki, master of the Nubrath!" The leader spoke again, this time while holding his sword in both his...claws and raising it to the God. "Your army is ready."

The blowhorn sounded again.

"We're all prepared to take over the earth under your rule."

~End of Season 2~

You’ll get season 3 if you curse me with the balance of work and home to get me as many hours to write as possible. Bonus if you get me my dream job. No, I won’t tell you, you have to figure it out on your own.

[hoodoo12]

Familial Ties (And How To Break Them) 5/14

SFW  ~

Dawn found Pate sitting on her bed, the open half of Fuchs's book in her lap, her laptop in front of her, with a spiral notebook covered in cramped, hurried notations, some of which had been scratched out. Excitement was beginning to bubble in her chest, she thought she just might have uncovered a solution to the Rigel problem.

Early as it was, she couldn't wait another minute before filling Beej in on what she'd found, to see if he thought it might be possible. It might be grasping at straws, but it was better than nothing. Gathering everything into a pile she could transport one-handed, Pate clumsily wriggled her way off the bed and crossed to the door, gripping the knob and throwing it open with an enthusiastic cry of,

"Beej! I think I've figured it out!"

⁂

The door was thrown open, away from him, and with no support, he fell into the room. To his disappointment, she'd changed her clothing; he'd have gotten another pretty view of her panties if she'd kept that sleep shirt on! As it was, sprawled on the floor at Pate's feet, he tried to play it off cool.

"Hey, uh. Hello again!" he said as he pushed himself up. "You figured what out?"

He tried to stand, but his legs were tangled in the quilt and he struggled mightily to not fall over again.

He failed, and hit the wall.

Pate gasped when she opened her door and spilled demon all over the floor, blinking dumbly down at him. Had he fallen asleep outside her door? Warmth blossomed in her chest at the thought, but as he visibly labored to stand only to fall again she hurriedly stepped around him to deposit her burden on the end of the couch, rushing back to kneel next to him and help untangle the quilt from around his legs.

"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly.

"I'm good, baby," he replied, and didn't help at all to get her quilt off him; it was nice to feel just the thought of her hands on his legs.

Once he was released, he popped up and gave her hand up as well, pulling her to her feet; the motion made her end up against his chest. For a second, he froze, then as smoothly as he could, he stepped away.

"What did you figure out?" he asked again, gesturing towards all the paperwork she'd left on her couch.

Hearing the term of endearment again, his hand extended down to help her up, the feeling of her warm fingers encased in his cold ones.... Her pulse fluttered, and then to find herself standing against him, it was almost enough to make her forget what she'd been so eager to tell him.

Mentally shaking herself, Pate beamed at him.

"I think I know how to banish Rigel!" she announced, dropping herself onto the couch and spreading her research around so he could see it. "I couldn't sleep, so I started looking through the book, trying to find that incantation. I didn't see it, so I figure Rigel must've gotten that page."

She giggled when he rolled his eyes in an "of course . . ." sort of way.

"But! I did find this." She turned the book around to show him the page in question. "Ora infernum! Hellmouths. I used to see depictions of them in medieval illuminations all the time, but I never thought they'd be real! If Google translate is worth anything at all, it looks like they're actual living creatures who act as portals to hell. Fuchs writes that if you're able to kill the hellmouth, that portal closes. So could we do that? Push his pompous ass through a hellmouth and then kill it so he can't come back?"

And he'd thought Sandworms were bad. Those  . . . "hellmouths" looked fucking terrifying.

He took the destroyed book from her and looked at the illustration more closely. "So, are they like a sarlacc, or something? Are they a vacuum? Am I going to get sucked in?"

He knew he was peppering her with questions, but one was most important of all.

"How the fuck would we kill that thing?"

Pate rifled through her notes, sweeping a loose strand of hair out of her mouth.

"Hmm . . . Fuchs isn't totally clear on that. It looks like the only one he ever saw was already dead. All the depictions I ever saw of them in manuscripts, it didn't look like anything was being pulled in, more like the mouth is just a tunnel. A really gross tunnel down a monster's throat where you end up in hell, but just a passageway. As for how to kill it, I'm sure we can come up with something. Those tentacles of yours, couldn't they do some serious damage?"

Beetlejuice had no desire to get any body parts near that ugly thing. He looked dubiously over the illustration again.

"What prevents anyone in the mouth from just walking back out again?"

She crossed her arms, humming thoughtfully to herself.

"Also unclear... I'd guess that once whoever is in the mouth, you've got to kill the creature to seal the exit."

She leaned back against the sofa, frowning at the carpet as she pondered. How to kill such a giant monster? All she really had to go on was Hollywood and folklore. Wooden stake? That was vampires... And from what she could tell, the hellmouth was just a head. No heart to stake. Silver bullet? Possible, but it would have to be a massive bullet to kill something so big. Pate sat upright with a tiny gasp.

"Holy water," she said.

"Holy water? Like the stuff priests bathe in or whatever?" he asked. He only had a vague idea of the stuff; water was water and it wasn't his best friend. "I suppose . . . but we've got to find one of those things, and get Rigel to it. That's a lot of work, baby."

Pate shrugged, offering a tight smile. "I know. It's a long shot, but it's all we've got. Rigel's your..." she grimaced apologetically. "Brother, right? You know him better than I do, where would he go?"

He grimaced.

"Half brother," he reluctantly admitted. "My bitch of a mother's favorite out of all of us. He was always the best about dragging souls to the Netherworld."

He thought about her question for a moment, chewing his thumb nail.

"He's one of two places," he finally said. "The Vatican, because if he can get priests, that's like hitting the lottery. Or Las Vegas, because sometimes quantity over quality isn't a bad thing. If he's feeling like it, he'd definitely get more pussy in Vegas, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't get down and dirty with religious officials . . . so . . . flip a coin?"

Pate picked up on the bitter edge to his voice when he talked about his family, though she'd gotten the gist from his interaction with Rigel and the barbs tossed back and forth. She scooted closer to him on the couch while he thought, spotting some loose change she'd left on a small wooden tray table by the sofa. Plucking a quarter from the bunch she plopped back down next to him, their legs pressed flush as she held it up to show him.

"Heads Italy, tails Vegas?" she asked.

He hesitated for a beat, then gave a firm nod and Pate took a breath and flicked the coin in the air with her thumb, watching it spin.

"Vegas is always good for tail, baby," he joked, and didn't care that made her blush. The coin arced into the air, then landed on the carpet with a soft sound. He laughed at the result. "Looks like we're headed to Sin City!"

Pate rolled her eyes, grinning all the while so he wouldn't take it the wrong way. "I've never been to Nevada," she quipped. "It's hot out there, right? I'd better pack my shorts."

⁂

Pate leaned back in the driver's seat, left hand on the steering wheel, right hand drumming her thigh in time with the music playing low over the radio. She and Beetlejuice were nearing the halfway point of the nearly 2300 mile drive to Las Vegas. The GPS mounted on her dashboard said it was a 33 hour expedition one way.

Of course it would have been infinitely faster to fly, but Pate didn't think she could bear the stress of trying to get Beetlejuice through airport security. If she were honest with herself, spending the better part of two days in a vehicle with him was too tempting to resist.

Sitting still for that long, however, wasn't something the specter was accustomed or suited to. So Beetlejuice was currently reclining in the passenger seat with her tablet, playing the games she'd showed him. She glanced over at him every so often, intent upon whatever he was doing, the tip of his tongue held between his teeth as he concentrated. She smiled, her heart swelling and thumping a little harder at the sight.

This vehicle. He hated it. Hated. It. It was too small, the seat only went down to a weird, not-quite-flat position with a weird angle, the backseat was okay if he didn't mind curling up but Pate wouldn't let him ride with his feet out the windows. The tablet she'd brought along was okay; it at least passed the time and kept him distracted. She distracted him too, but she'd told him she got creeped out when he just sat still like a corpse and stared at her.

Sometimes he crawled into the back seat just so he didn't have to work as hard to hide the broomstick that occasionally showed up in his pants. The overnight accommodations? In the crappy motels? Those were a trial too, because she couldn't afford two rooms. He always pretended to sleep, but spent the nights listening to her breathe.

At long last the towering hotels and casinos of Sin City lay sprawled before them, the many hundreds of thousands of windows flashing in the bright desert sun.

As they left the highway traffic grew a bit more congested, but she was content to putter along at a snail’s pace, looking around as much as possible while still keeping an eye on the road. Pate turned a wide grin at Beej, who had clambered back into the passenger seat and slipped out from under the shoulder strap of his seatbelt. She insisted he wear it, she said it was so the cops didn’t pull them over and so the seat belt alarm wouldn’t go off the whole drive, but mostly she wanted him to be safe if something happened. She never told him that last part.  

He was leaning forward, his arms folded across the dashboard, grinning back at her. They cruised down Las Vegas Blvd, past the famed hotels and casinos.

“I booked us a room on the strip,” she told him, looking out for the unmistakable pink neon lotus outside the hotel. “Figured as long as we were going to Vegas we might as well do it right!”

He looked from one window to the next to the next to the next, sometimes catching Pate's eyes as he grinned. This place looked bright, it looked chaotic, it looked like a good place for a great time. It looked like the perfect playground for all sorts of hedonism.

"On the Strip? Which hotel? Look! Cher is still here! Can we see Cher? Huh? Or one of those shows at night when the women are naked? Huh? Pate! Let's see one of those!" Did he sound like a kid on sugar? Maybe, but he didn't care.

His hyperactive enthusiasm made her laugh as he rattled off requests, and she decided then and there that sometime in the not-too-distant future they were going to go on a real vacation. But for the time being . . .

"Slow down there, Bug," she giggled. "We've got a mission, remember? Find a hellmouth, get our hands on some holy water, and then boot your shitstain of a brother back to hell."

Beej pouted, sliding down in the seat and making her giggle more.

"But, if all goes well, I don't see any reason why we couldn't take in a show."

His exuberance returned at once, full force, and Pate laughed. His unbridled excitement must be catching, because she could feel it fizzing in her chest like bubbly champagne.

"As to our accommodations . . ." she said, pulling into the drive, the enormous Flaming Lotus in bright pinks and orange blooming from the corner of the entrance of the building on their left. "It's not the Bellagio, but it beats the hell outta Motel 6."

He couldn't help but grin widely at the nickname she'd taken to calling him during this, and this hotel?! It was just as loud and hard on the eyes as he could be, and he loved it. Pate kept an incredibly tight hold on him as she marched him through the lobby. As much as he wanted to lay down on the marble floors or explore the space, her hand clasped around his or her arm under his jacket around his waist to keep him contained was much much better. He knew what a marble slab felt like, anyway.

In the elevator, a couple with a kid gave them--him-- a look, and his dead eyed return stare hurried them off the lift without making more eye contact.

When they were gone and the two of them were alone the rest of the ride up, Beetlejuice didn't draw attention to the fact that Pate hadn't released his hand.

At the room, he was disappointed to find two beds; it was just another indication of her distrust of him. That still stung, but she had been right. They had a job to do.

 tbc