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roosterforme · 8 months

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Adult Education Part 2 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake wasn't sure what he had done wrong, but the last thing he wanted to do was scare Jessica off. With a little bit of help, he manages to get a few minutes alone with her again. And all she does is effortlessly make him want even more.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 2600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jake was still perplexed the following afternoon as he listened to Maverick lecture about the efficiency of the modified fuel system in the F/A-18. He couldn't help but think that Dr. Reed would have done a much better job speaking on the topic. And looked cute while doing it.

He'd spent most of the night thinking about her, trying to determine where exactly he had fucked things up. It seemed like she was into him while they were at the bar. The cheap beers and peanuts at Chippy's let Jake know she would be relaxed enough to hang with his friends. And the way she looked and her PhD in physics let him know she would hold his interest. If he was looking for someone to date, it would be Professor Jessica in a heartbeat.

She was so charming and intelligent. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe it only took her an hour last night to recognize that Jake wouldn't be enough to hold her interest. She really went running for her office as soon as they were outside.

"Damn," he muttered once the aviators were all dismissed for the day. When he unlocked his phone, his browser was still open to the tab of Jessica's profile on the San Diego State University website. That little photo of her wearing her glasses and a blouse with the top buttons undone was really messing with him. He practically had the About Me section memorized by now, and she'd said nothing about a spouse. He went to close out of it, but he couldn't.

"Hey, you need a ride again today?" Bradley asked him, checking his own phone.

"Nah, I got my truck back this morning," he replied. "But thanks."

Bradshaw just shrugged and grunted in response, but then he was holding up his phone for Jake to see the screen. "My wife apparently has a message for you."

Sugar: Tell Hangman I ate lunch with Dr. Reed today. And she wanted to know if my sexy aviator husband happened to know another sexy aviator by the name of Jake Seresin.

Jake perked right up at that. "Mind if I text Dr. Tits myself?" he asked, and Bradley handed over his phone.

"Just as long as you don't call her Dr. Tits. Jesus, I'm shocked you're still alive."

But he wasn't listening. Rather he was already texting.

Hey, it's Jake. Did Jessica say anything else? After we had some beers at Chippy's, she kind of ran off. I'd like to see her again, but I'm not so sure she'd want to see me.

Jake sent the message and stared at the screen. "She might not be able to respond right now," Bradshaw was saying. "She's got a late lecture this evening." But the messaging app was telling Jake that she was in fact currently typing.

"Shh," Jake said, devouring the message as soon as it arrived.

Sugar: I told her I know you. Be thankful that I painted a much, much prettier picture of you than I could have. But she didn't say much else. However... she does have office hours until 7:00 tonight. Just so you know.

Jake groaned and handed the phone back to Bradley. Of course he was relying on help from the woman he had accidentally given a vulgar nickname. He didn't know what he should do. On one hand, he'd love to show up at Jessica's office and pick up where they left off. On the other hand, there was a good chance it would be awkward. But he wanted to know what he did wrong.

While they were at Chippy's, Jake had been thinking about inviting her to have dinner at his place one night. He thought about making her smile and laugh in his kitchen while he tried to convince her he was smart enough to keep up with the conversation. Imagining how it might feel to press his lips to her elegant neck.

"Yeah, I'm going," he grunted, checking the time.

"Going where?" Bradshaw asked, looking at him like he had two heads as they finally exited the deserted classroom.

"Visit your wife at work," Jake replied with a wink.

He just rolled his eyes in response. "Tell her I'll pick her up at 9."

Jake didn't even bother to change out of his flight suit. He'd only been out on the tarmac for a short period of time today, so the jet fumes didn't seem to be an issue. He grabbed his wallet and keys from his locker and rushed for his truck. It was already after 6 o'clock. Depending on traffic, he might not even make it to campus before Jessica's office hours ended. But what did he have to lose?

"Come on," he complained, merging with the congestion of cars leaving North Island. Everyone was creeping across the bay bridge, and Jake was watching the minutes tick away. When he was finally close to campus, he tried to remember where Bradshaw had parked yesterday. He cut down a side street and came out near the math and science building, but there was nowhere to park.

"Shit," he said, and then someone was pulling out of a spot further up the block. Somehow he managed to successfully squeeze his truck between two other cars, and he hopped out onto the sidewalk. He tossed his sunglasses onto the front seat before locking his truck, and tried to fix his hair as he walked toward her building. He could see Chippy's across the street, and he briefly wondered if she might head over there if he couldn't find her office in time.

When he tried to open the door to the math and science building, it was locked. He jiggled all the door hands, but none of them were open. There was a card reader off to one side, but no students in sight. "Fuck," he groaned. The building was probably only left unlocked yesterday for the mini lectures.

Jake started scrambling for his phone so he could call Bradshaw and get his wife's number. But then he saw her walking down the hallway inside, and he pounded on the door. She turned and looked at him with a cautionary glance until she realized it was him. Then she walked over and pulled the door open for him.

She grinned and said, "Just in time for office hours, I see."

"Thank you," Jake said, and he didn't even call her Dr. Tits. "I owe you one. For the information and for opening the door."

She just pointed him toward the row of elevators and said, "Dr. Reed's office is on the fifth floor, to the left when you exit the elevator."

"Thanks!" he called out as he practically ran to push the little up arrow. And now he was nervous. Why did he think this was a good idea? As the doors slid open, he registered that it wasn't too late to just go back to his truck and drive home. But as they started to close again, he found himself darting inside and pushing the number 5.

If he got completely shot down, then so be it. And if she was already gone for the day, then maybe he'd consider stopping by Chippy's and running the risk of having her bartender friend give him the third degree. But it would be worth it just in case Jessica wanted to talk to him again.

Fifth floor. He turned to the left and read all of the names on the doors as he made his way down the long hallway. And then he saw it on the placard on the second to last door on the left. DR. JESSICA REED, PHD.

The door was slightly ajar, and Jake let out a deep breath before he knocked.

"Come in."

When he pushed the door open and stepped inside her small office, he smiled. Jessica was sitting at her desk, writing something down in that red notebook he saw yesterday, and when her gaze slid up his body, her lips parted in surprise when she met his eyes. "Jake."

"Dr. Reed," he drawled. "I almost missed your office hours."

Her eyes were wide, and she nudged her glasses up higher on her nose with the backs of her fingers. "What are you doing here?"

Jake took a step closer to her desk, and she slowly stood. And hell if she wasn't wearing another cute skirt today.

She was eyeing him curiously, still waiting for an answer when he said, "You told me I could borrow your copy of the Journal of Propulsion Science. The edition with the information about Super Hornets."

"Oh," she whispered, her face falling a bit. "Right. Of course." She turned away from him and started to search along some shelves that were jammed with books and periodicals. His eyes roamed over the back of her body all the way down to her feet and her high heels. He watched as she pulled a few glossy journals out and turned to hand them to him. "Here's the Propulsion Science journal, and here are a few more that might interest you. I don't need them back. You can keep them."

Jake took them and immediately set them down softly on her desk without looking at them. "Thanks, but that's actually not the only reason why I'm here."

"Why else are you here then?" she asked carefully, and Jake wished there wasn't a large desk between his body and hers. He felt himself starting to hesitate again, but he was already in this deep. Might as well go all the way.

"Listen, Jessica. I was having a pretty great time last night at Chippy's." He was trying to gauge her reaction as he added, "You're beautiful, funny and smart, and hey, I'm only human. And I thought you were maybe feeling what I was feeling? And correct me if I'm wrong here, but I thought we were having fun? And it didn't even seem like you expected me to lay down my usual bullshit, which was really nice."

"Oh," she gasped. She worried at her bottom lip with her teeth before she said, "No. You're not wrong."

He shrugged at her, heart pounding as he asked, "Then what did I do wrong? Why did you run off?"

She laughed softly and looked down at her desk. "I nerded out so hard."

Jake grinned as the sheepish look on her face. "You must have been able to tell I was enjoying myself. God, I could have stayed at Chippy's with you all night long. You know more about my jet than I do, and I have the NATOPS memorized."

She ran her fingers nervously along the top of her desk as she looked at the stack of journals he was meant to take with him. As Jake planted his hands on his hips, she glanced up at him. "It's just too good to be true."

He shook his head slightly. "What's too good to be true?"

"You."

He raised one eyebrow, about to ask what that was supposed to mean when she said, "There's always a catch with the charming, good looking guys, right?"

"A catch?"

She licked her lips and pressed her palms on the desk, leaning a little closer to him. "I've been through this before. There's always someone else. A sexy naval aviator in his uniform shows up to my lecture and then flirts with me? Please. There's always another girl."

Jake was kind of stunned. "I would never do that."

But she still looked apprehensive as she said, "As soon as you started ignoring calls and messages, you said you had to leave."

Bradshaw. He was ignoring calls from Bradshaw who was trying to tell Jake to meet him at the Bronco. And he was only ignoring him because he didn't want to leave her at all.

When he didn't respond right away, she shrugged and said, "Figured it was your girlfriend calling you."

Jake made sure she met his eyes before he said, "I don't have a girlfriend."

She barely hesitated before asking, "Wife?"

"I don't have one of those either."

Jessica slowly pushed off from her desk so she was standing at her full height, lips forming a perfect, kissable pout. She looked a little embarrassed now as she messed with her glasses. "That's all really useful information to have," she muttered, picking up the stack of journals and walking them around her desk.

Her steps were intentional and deliberate, the little click of her high heels muffled in the small space. Even in those shoes she only came up to his chin, and she didn't stop until she was right in front of him. He could smell her shampoo or perfume. He could see gold flecks in her eyes. This time when she held out the journals, they grazed his flight suit. He took them in one hand and murmured, "Thank you."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, and Jake almost tossed the literature aside and pushed her against her desk when her fingers met the patches on his flight suit. He stood still against his desire to tilt her face up and press his lips to that pout. She looked good, and she smelled good, and Jake was convinced she would taste good, too. Then she glanced up at him, fingers still tracing his patch that said HANGMAN.

He cleared his throat softly. "What if I decide I want to return the journals after I read them? And what if I have some questions only an expert would be able to answer?"

She smiled and said, "Then I would implore you to find me and avoid Dr. Leeland and the rest of the physics department."

Jake laughed softly, but then she removed her hand from his flight suit, and he started to reach for her. But she was already turning toward her desk, tearing a page out of her red notebook. As she bent at the waist, Jake stifled a groan and rubbed one rough hand over his mouth. Her skirt rode up along her legs, exposing so much skin, he couldn't look away. Perfect, gorgeous skin from her bare thighs down to her ankles and those stupidly high heels.

He was definitely caught staring after she finished scribbling on the sheet of notebook paper and spun to face him. He wanted to ask her if she wanted another three dollar pint and some peanuts, but she folded the paper in half and handed it to him before he could gather his thoughts into a sentence that actually made sense.

He glanced down and saw that she'd written her office hours in her neat penmanship.

Dr. Reed's office hours for journal topic discussion:

Tuesdays 5:30 to 7:00

Thursdays 6:00 to 7:30

"I might be willing to stay late again. For you."

Jake looked up into her pretty eyes and tapped the sheet of paper. "Any chance you'd add your phone number for me, Dr. Reed?"

The soft smile and dreamy look she bestowed on him had him grinning like an idiot, he was certain. He wanted that phone number in the worst way. When Jessica's fingers ghosted along his patch one more time, she said, "Maybe I'll see you on Thursday?"

"Yes." Jake would make it a point to come back on Thursday.

--------------------------

Professor Jessica thought she nerded too close to the sun. And Jake really did give off some of the telltale signs of a man who is up to no good (including but not limited to looking hot in his uniform). Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 3

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ghouljams · 5 months

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Build Me a Castle of Memories Rating: M Word Count: 6.8k Tags: hurt/comfort, christmas fic, Ghostxf!oc/f!reader, background Pricexf!oc, dissociation, anxiety, grief, 09 Ghost's backstory, Ghost reconciling with his past, dad!Ghost, baby oc Summary: Ghost has never had what you would call a happy Christmas, but you have and that chafes more than he wants it to. He wishes it didn't, but he doesn't know how to stop it. Maybe he was doomed from the start.

“Simon, wake the fuck up, we got chores.”

Ghost folds his pillow over his ears and rolls over, away from the pounding of your fist against the door. There’s nowhere to escape the noise in the little one room house, but damn if he can’t try. He presses the pillow more tightly against his ears, squeezes his eyes shut. He feels like a kid again, your insistent knocking filling in holes in his memory he’d rather forget.

His father banging on the door, screaming as he tries to shield Tommy. His mother’s voice attempting to pacify him. The crack of skin against skin, the soft shocked noise that comes from being struck. A sharp yelp, a plea, but the banging on the door doesn’t stop.

Ghost jerks awake again. His mind struggling to disconnect from the past and focus on the present. How long have you been trying to wake him? He tosses the quilt off and grabs his mask. He needs to get away from this memory, and you’re just in time to help. The mask is pulled on as he goes to yank the door open.

You stare up at him, unapologetic for the early hour. Actually you look a little annoyed it took him so long to get up. Your eyes drop down, and Ghost leans against the door frame to let you look. One nice thing about Texas he supposes, it’s still warm in the winter. Warm enough he doesn’t need more than a pair of shorts to sleep in.

Your eyes pull back up to meet his and he cocks a brow.

You’re cute in an oversized jumper and shorts. He wonders if you’ve started chores, must have since your boots already have mud on them. “Is it a Ghost day today?” You ask, referring to his mask. He hums.

“What do you need, Princess?” He’s already tired of the direction this conversation is taking. Better to keep you both on track and avoid unnecessary topics. December is starting to chafe despite the climate. The feed store had giant candy canes out front the last time he passed it, and a tree lot has already been erected by the church. Must be a merry time of year, not that Ghost’s ever enjoyed it.

“Momma wants the Christmas tubs, and I need another set of hands with the trailer.” You explain, dangling the keys from your fingers. Ghost hums again, you shouldn’t have trouble with a few boxes of decorations, not enough to need his help at least. It’s a good excuse to grab some time alone with you though, one he’s happy to take.

You’re always a welcome distraction from the tightness in his chest.

“Lemme get my boots,” He grumbles, turning back into the house. He leaves the door open for you, knows you’ll follow him in and make yourself at home. It’s charming, you’re charming, if a little annoying.

Sure enough the door clicks shut behind him, and he hears you fussing in the kitchen with the kettle. Ghost is tightening his belt when you offer him a to-go mug of tea. It always tastes better when you make it, the thermos is warmer, the bitterness a little softer, the sugar a little sweeter.

He burns his tongue on the scalding liquid as you pluck his hat from the coat rack by the door and settle it on your head. You toss a smile over your shoulder at him, and it’s like a sunrise over the hills.

The darkness of memory scurries back where he can lock it. The house feels gentler somehow, he feels gentler. Softer around the edges when he rubs his thumb against your cheek.

“Come on ya big softy,” You laugh, patting his chest, “The quicker we get started the quicker we get done.”

Ghost huffs, “They’re Christmas decorations, how long could they take?”

Ten tubs in Ghost decides your mother is insane.

The shed that they’re all in seems dedicated solely to Christmas decor. There are light up reindeer and inflatables, boxes overflowing with lights, and tubs. Tubs upon tubs of heavy ass decor. You hand him another box to find space for on the trailer and Ghost is forced to reconcile with the fact you’re hardly breaking a sweat. You give a soft noise of effort when you lift a tub from the floor or pull one off a tower, but otherwise… Ghost spends a fair amount of time on the walk between the shed and trailer thinking about it.

Maybe they’re not that heavy.

He comes back to the shed to see you stripping your jumper off, the dark tank top underneath hits him like a train. You fold your jumper neatly and place it on top of the tub you lift off the ground with a huff. You blink at him when you turn to take it to the trailer, and a smile creeps over your face.

“Pick your jaw up baby, you’ve seen worse than this,” You tease, shouldering past him just to bump his arm with yours. Baby. You could call him anything you wanted and he’d have to stop himself from following after you. How can one little word make his chest swell and tighten?

How could he ever want to raise a hand to someone that made him feel like this?

Fifteen tubs, nine light up reindeer, and more lights than Ghost has ever seen. He boxes you in as you’re locking up, leaning heavily against his arm on the shed door. You turn to lean against the rough wood as you tuck the key back into your pocket. He holds your chin with his fingers, thumb rubbing against your skin as he takes you in. You give him a confused sort of smile and settle your pretty hands on his chest.

“You ok, big guy?” You ask, your voice light to disguise your concern. Ghost tips his head, quiet. It’s the season, he wants to say. It’s bitterness and resentment that creeps in every year at this time. It’s the smiles of kids swinging their parent’s hands and chattering about santa. It’s the sun shining and the wind blowing without a chill, like it would hate to ruin a perfect December with snow.

“Fine,” Ghost tells you. Your brows twitch down like you don’t believe him. He kisses you quick before you can ask again.

“Swear you got more of this stuff every year,” Price gripes back at the house, his smile telling Ghost he truly doesn’t mind. Your mother eagerly pops the lids off each tub to inspect the contents before telling Price where to take it. It’s a slow process, slower than the initial loading, but easy enough. Ghost takes a huge tub from you, this one clearly labeled “garlands.” It’s unwieldy, but not too heavy. He shifts it up over his shoulder to get it up the steps to the farm house’s front door.

“Thank you for helping Simon,” You mom smiles at him, her hand light on his arm. Something about her touch sears against his skin, her smile chokes him, he’s glad for his mask as he holds her gaze. He nods and continues into the house.

Outside he can hear your mom arguing with you about something. A well meaning sort of tone that carries through the air without yelling, never yelling. Your huffing and whining hardly seem to break the atmosphere. No harsh words, no physical altercation, no familiar ending.

Price passes Ghost on his way out and pauses. His eyes dart to him as he brushes past before he’s out the door again. Ghost sets the tub in the living room with the others. He pats the top, stares at the red lid, pats it again. His stomach twists. He pats it again.

Why can’t he move away?

He pats it. Job done. So why is he still standing there?

He pops the lid off the tub and stares at the pine green garlands, nestled in with fake snow and little red baubles. Christmas-y. His fingers skim the fake needles. Plastic, of course, crushed and bent in places from years of wear. Where do these go? Ghost glances around the room, it feels smaller with all the tubs. The first garland has been lifted from its place by the time you wander by with your own tub, and your jumper on.

“Better leave it, Momma’s particular about her decoratin’,” You tell him, setting your box on the dining table. Despite your warning you tug your tub open and pull tablecloths and centerpieces free. Apparently you’re allowed to help past moving boxes.

Ghost drops the garland back into its tub and presses the lid shut. He goes to grab another box.

For how many tubs there were, the actual decorating goes fast. “Plenty of hands,” You mum, Duck, she told him to call her Duck, tells him with a smile.

There’s a heavy weight on Ghost’s chest, something too large to wrap his arms around. He doesn’t say much as he helps get reindeer plugged in, and fluffy cotton snow tucked around ceramic houses. He finds himself outside with a cigarette between his fingers more often than he’d care to admit. The choke of smoke in his lungs is more familiar an ache than the other one. Nameless, because to name it would mean acknowledging it.

Ghost watches the wind rustle through the dry grass, his eyes trained on the wide horizon. He wishes he could change the shape of his shadow, knock off the parts that dig into his skin. He’s tired. Maybe he should find somewhere to go for the next few weeks, get away from the festivities. Just for a while. Just until it stops hurting. The screen door knocks against the frame behind him.

“You’re quiet,” You lean against the porch railing, eyeing him. You’re so damn observant it kills him. Ghost snubs his cigarette on the ashtray next to him and lets the last of the smoke leave his lungs.

“So I’ve heard.” He tells you, turning to push past you and back into the house. If he stays around you too long he might say something he can’t take back. It’s better like this.

Price is busy enough with the upstairs decorations that Ghost doesn’t feel bad making a beeline for the living room. Red and green cover the place. The mantle over the fireplace hosts a christmas village, the couch boasts flannel throws and christmas pillows, miniature christmas trees in various styles are set on every horizontal surface. Somehow the room feels warmer, the twinkle of fairy lights giving everything a soft glow.

How could he have anything to say around this? All this- Fucking hell why do you have to be one of these families? A happy family. You don’t even have a proper tree yet but there are already presents set in the corner Price partitioned off as the “tree spot.”

Ghost rubs his thumb against one of the garlands hung up around the entryway. So this is where they went. Your- Duck waves him over when he makes eye contact, offers him a baby of a hammer and a few tiny nails.

“Make yourself useful and tack up the cotton,” she smiles at him. He gives a short nod and follows the line of her fingers to the line of cotton circling the room, nestled neatly over a thick garland. Duck surrenders the step ladder to him and Ghost is quick to take over. He tucks the cotton into place and pushes the little nail into it, taps it with the head of the little hammer.

“We have to re-plaster every other year or so,” Duck says behind him, filling the silence with her voice.

“I can tell,” Ghost grumbles, eyeing the little holes that dot the wall. He tacks another length of cotton snow to the wall, squishes it up against the ceiling and drives the nail in. He looks back down at Duck and holds his hand out for more cotton. She’s already holding the next batch of it, apparently well versed in this whole decorating business.

“You should’ve seen the wall before we started fixing it,” She hums, “years and years of holes.” Ghost says nothing. These holes are nothing. Years and years of holes knocked into walls, covered by picture frames and curtains. “Most of these decorations have been in the family for years,” She tells him, background noise to the drone of his thoughts, “We still use my mom’s plates for Christmas dinner.”

“You ever broken one?” He asks, feeling his throat tighten as soon as the words are out. He squeezes his fist, the points of the nails digging into the meat of his palm.

“Of course,” Duck’s tone is alien to him, it’s all alien to him, “that’s what happens with old things, but I don’t need the plates to remember her.”

Ghost stares at the wall, the plastic needles of the garland, the red bows and white cotton. He bounces the weight of the hammer against his fingers, unseeing. There’s something at the edges of the statement that feels targeted, that speaks to an understanding he wishes she didn’t have. You don’t know me, it says, but I know you. Something wet tickles his fingers, he can feel the warmth of it dripping from his grip.

Remember when you had things you could carry with you? He asks himself. Pictures, smiles, something more than a memory? When’s the last time he visited their graves? Are they clean? Has anyone brought them flowers?

“They’re just things Simon,” his memory whispers, voice watery, like it doesn’t want him to see it cry.

Someone touches his arm, and asks, “Simon?” in a voice so close to his mother’s that he jumps, and nearly topples off the step ladder. A pair of hands press to his back to keep him steady.

“I’ll be alright,” his memory finishes, like a hand stroking his hair. He feels small. It hurts.

He drops the nails from his hand, lets the hammer fall free as he grips his wrist with a shuddering breath. Shit. Small puncture wounds dot his palm, nails still clinging to the meaty base of his thumb. He focuses on his breathing, pushing the pain down into its tightly lidded container as he steps down off the ladder.

Duck grabs his hand before he can shoulder past her towards the bathroom, inspecting the damage. Damn doctor. She clicks her tongue, the same way you do when you’re upset. She spreads his fingers out, opens his hand as she prods around the blood.

“Doesn’t look like any permanent damage done,” She smiles up at him, a mother’s smile where he’d hoped to see a doctor’s, “Just needs cleaned up.” Simon swallows.

“Let’s get it over with.” He responds, the same way he always does to medical.

Ghost studies his bandaged hand in the quiet of his bathroom, water patters against the tile of his shower in the silence. Plain gauze and bandaging, the same as it always is. No stitches needed. No permanent damage. Just plain gauze. And bandaging.

He rubs his thumb against the rough bandage, feeling its familiarity.

He sighs and leans back against the sink, presses his hand over his eyes to block the buzz of the overhead light. How much longer does he have to wait before it all stops hurting?

Things quiet down after the house is decorated. The holiday lulls into something almost palatable. You’re over less. In the week following Ghost finds himself sleeping alone three days in a row, finds himself unable to sleep when he does have you in bed with him. You hug close against his chest, your legs tangled with his and your breaths soft and even. He can’t lose the time he has with you to sleep, his lips press against your forehead as he feels like an outsider in his own skin.

“You should come stay in the main house,” You offer over your coffee, “until the holiday is over.” Ghost hums.

“Wouldn’t want to disturb the Christmas cheer,” He sips his tea, scrolling through the news on his phone. Never anything good, never anything that makes him happy he left the service.

“I want you there,” You press, “we want you there.” You always do that, make it sound like you aren’t enough to convince him, like he needs more than you to ask for something before he grants it.

“I like my space,” He looks up from his phone, and his heart twists at the sadness in your eyes, he fixes his eyes back on his phone, “I’ll think about it.”

“Maybe closer to Christmas? I know it’s not-” You hesitate, he hates hearing you hesitate, it doesn’t sound right to his ear when your confidence wavers, “With my parents around, I know it’s not ideal, or romantic, but-”

“I don’t like sleeping alone either,” Ghost finishes for you, swallowing his own feelings down, “I’ll think about it princess, promise.”

“Ok,” You smile, and kick your feet up into his lap under the table.

He spends the whole day thinking about it. Spends the day thinking about sleeping in a guest room, about seeing Price in the morning outside the bathroom, about family meals, about waking up surrounded by cheer when he feels anything but cheerful. He walks into the kitchen to grab lunch and finds the counters covered in unfrosted Christmas cookies, sprinkles and colorful icing laid out with joyful care. It makes his chest tighten uncomfortably, his memory working overtime to remind him of the clatter of baking sheets and the shouting that comes after the smell of burning flesh.

He skips lunch.

There’s something broken in him, Ghost knows that better than anyone, but he can’t stop the sharp edges of it from cutting. There’s something angry clawing at his ribs, licking his scars until they itch, choking his throat with dirt and earth. He snaps at Price while the cattle files past, and wishes his captain wasn’t so damn sturdy. “I know son,” Price tells him easily. It hurts more than it has any right to. All of it hurts more than he knows it should.

He holds you in bed at night and stares at the wall, tracing the path of the moon by the light it casts through the windows. He just needs to make it through the holiday.

Easier said than done.

Christmas seems to take over the ranch the closer the holiday gets. Presents appear piled under the tree, cookies tower on plates just out of reach of the dog, carols seem to always be playing, and the television happily hums with every holiday movie he could think of. You catch him under a mistletoe and Ghost feels like he’s quickly reaching a boiling point. Your joy, usually so infectious, now seems tailor made to destroy him.

He’s not mad at you, he knows he isn’t, knows exactly what this feeling is. It’s the same feeling he had in primary school watching other kids excitedly chatter about Christmas plans. Jealousy. Why did the universe see fit to give everyone else a happy family but him? He was just a kid. Kids don’t deserve that. Why did he have to go home to hell when you came home to Christmas carols and twinkling lights?

He tried so hard to be good,

And it never mattered.

Still, he doesn’t want to ruin the holiday for you. He follows you around town while you Christmas shop, smiles when you smile, offers you new jokes to hear you laugh, stops to look at the little display in the antique store window. Somehow it cheers him up, buying you a gift. It feels small, but genuine. He tucks the little felt lined box into his pocket and rubs his thumb against it when his thoughts start to drift away from you.

You squeeze his hand, your fingers intertwined as you walk. It feels reassuring for the first time in days.

With your gift in the back of his mind Ghost finally feels like he’s getting a handle on the whole Christmas situation. He can do this for you, he can give you a good holiday. You deserve a good holiday, even if he feels like a recruit getting pushed into action without so much as a vest. It still chafes at him, but Ghost has gotten good at ignoring uncomfortable feelings over the years. He shoves down the green eyed monster, and tries to throw a tarp over the old wounds that threaten to reopen.

He ignores the twitch of your mother’s brows, the clench of Price’s jaw, your hopeful smile. It’s strange how… easy it is to join the holiday, like you’d been waiting for him, holding a place for him to slot into. The warmth of it sinks into him, wraps around him gently where he’d thought it would try to pierce him.

He still hasn’t worked up the courage to take you up on your offer. He can’t look at you when he leaves, can’t see that tinge of disappointment in your eyes. It feels colder when he goes back to his little house. You’re so busy with your family, and he’s been holding himself back from you. He’s never been a coward before, but it’s better than the alternative. Better than letting you know how hurt he is, how broken he is to be jealous of your happiness.

Ghost tugs the towel off his mirror and stares down his reflection. His fingers squeeze the edge of the sink, knuckles white as he leans against the porcelain. It’s the season, he tells himself for the hundredth time, but it isn’t, is it? There’s a piece of his father lodged in his soul, dark and cloying, desperate to get out of the cage Simon shoved it in. The little voice in his head that asks why anyone else should have something nice if he didn’t get to.

He grips the sink tighter, keeps his eyes focused on their reflection.

The world is unfair and cruel. That’s why he joined the military, to even the scales. It’s his mum’s fault really. He swallows the lump in his throat. God she would have loved this, loved all this Christmas bullshit, pushed him to enjoy it, pushed him to stop holding you at arms length. She would have loved you, and you would’ve gotten on with Tommy like a house on fire.

The sink cracks under his hand.

It’s shallow, but he hears the break like a bell. It pulls his attention from the mirror as he rips his hand away and inspect the damage. He shoves down the guilt that tries to bubble to the surface. This is exactly why he’s keeping his distance. He wouldn’t be able to survive hurting you, can’t stomach the thought. He’s not his father, he can give you a good Christmas. He’s going to give you a good Christmas.

He’ll kill himself before he puts you through the sort of holidays he had.

Christmas eve creeps up without Ghost realizing, and all of a sudden he can't escape the warmth of the main house. There are no chores for him to do, you and Price having gotten up early to finish them. There's no help he can offer, Duck shoos him out of the kitchen. Every time he attempts to leave you drag him back to the couch. It's suffocating. Price follows him out to the porch to smoke, and he realizes he hasn't had a moment to himself in hours. Ghost can't turn a corner without bumping into someone. You're all just… hovering.

And yet no one has said anything. That almost makes it worse. The atmosphere inside the house is warm and festive, but Ghost can't help being reminded of a funeral. It's the sort of long dirge that seems to have no end in sight covered in a Christmas carol. There's plenty Ghost can ignore, but this is pushing it. He's both scrutinized and ignored.

You laugh and make jokes, Price snags cookies off the plate, Duck asks about santa. The dog is handed a bone and jumps around excitedly. The lights twinkle and carols ring through the house. Ghost doesn't think he's said a word in an hour, there's no point. “Big family syndrome” Soap had said once, “makes ya louder even when there's just the two of ya.”

It's too loud. It's too normal. It's too happy when he feels like he's going to break. All of the anger and hurt in his chest that wants so desperately to explode only makes it that much worse. He can't do this.

Ghost pushes back from the table when you settle your hand on his knee. He balls up his napkin and tosses it onto the table, turning to leave as your chair scrapes against the floor. He hardly hears when you call after him.

He just needs a minute of silence, a moment for his grief. He just needs two Goddamn seconds where he doesn't have to pretend he didn't lose everything. Where he can hate Christmas in peace.

Ghost presses his hands against his eyes, he can’t stem the stream of anger and hurt that pounds at his ribs. Why? Why can’t he push this down like he always has? Why does it feel so much bigger, so much meaner? It's never been this bad before, he's never had grief boil like this.

He doesn’t raise his head to the crunch of hay underfoot. You’re coming to try and comfort him, he supposes. He doesn’t want you to see him like this.

“Go away princess,” He grits, as you take a seat next to him.

“Oh that’s cute,” You mother hums, “she is like a princess isn’t she.”

Ghost looks up from his hands, glares at Duck to try and dissuade this line of conversation. Somehow this feels worse than if you or Price had come after him. He doesn’t know your mother well enough to anticipate her script. Open water without a life vest.

“I like to come out here when I’m upset too,” Duck smiles, looking out the open barn doors. The texas sky is darkening, the first pinpricks of starlight starting to make their appearance. Somehow it feels like Christmas, even without the cold.

“I’m fine,” Ghost looks towards the doors too, clasps his hands together where he leans over his knees. Duck hums again, quiet and patient. So assured that Ghost would spill his heart to her that he almost wants to. When he glances at her again she isn’t looking at him, her eyes watching one of the barn cats sleep with a soft smile.

“You know the first christmas I had with John was two years after Goose was born,” She tells him, “he was still in his fatigues, fresh from the airport, and I was so mad at him-” She laughs, “-because he didn’t want to hold her for a picture.” Something in her smile strikes Ghost as sad, he can’t take his eyes off of her. “He said he didn't want to get blood on her, and I-” a shaky breath “-I don’t know. Eight months in combat and he couldn’t touch his daughter, I just wanted to make him forget about it.”

“That’s your sob story?” Ghost raises a brow.

“That’s why our Christmases look like this,” Duck turns to him, “I’m sure your mother had the same thought.”

“You don’t know my mother,” Ghost grits, squeezing his hands tighter, “There wasn’t any- We never had a happy Christmas, the old man wouldn’t have allowed that.”

His father always felt so big. Always stood so tall and hit so hard. He was impossible to go against, impossible to ignore, the threat of him always hanging over Simon’s head. Christmas especially he seemed to haunt, a monster around the corner ready to pounce. He delighted in others' misery, it was no wonder he seemed to take such joy in destroying the holiday.

There was no father Christmas, no meal good enough, no decoration that didn’t end up destroyed. Good china smashed and ornaments shattered. Just things, his mum would say wiping snot from his nose, not worth the tears.

“It couldn’t have all been bad,” Duck tells him quietly, “your mum wouldn’t let it all be bad,” her grip on his hand tightens, “I wouldn’t.”

“It was all shite,” Ghost assures her with a harsh chuckle. “Just about the only Christmas that went well was-” Ghost stops, frowns as he stares out of the barn. Duck is quiet next to him, letting him sink into the memory. The first Christmas after he kicked his dad out. The first Christmas after Tommy had Joseph, his pudgy little fingers reaching for the shiny ornaments on the little tree they had. His mum had baked cookies. It was the first time she’d actually managed to get them all iced without anyone storming in to scream at her, or throw the tray on the floor. They’d sat on the floor playing Father Christmas, passing out presents with smiles. It was warm, and quiet. Just how he’d always wanted it to be.

Duck’s hand cups his face, her thumb brushing against his cheek with a startling gentleness. Simon looks at her and she smiles at him, something warm and watery in her eyes. He feels the tightness in his throat reflected back to him, feels the wetness tracing lines over his cheeks brushed away with care.

“You two would’ve gotten on like-” He shakes his head, looks away from the ache in his chest, “Doesn’t matter now.”

“She would’ve been proud of you,” Duck says, and it hits him like a bullet through the heart, “I am. We all are.”

And he realizes where you get it from, realizes why you change your ‘I’s to ‘we’s. It’s not a worry that you won’t be enough, it’s an assurance that he has more than just you.

Simon looks at his hands, unclasps them to rub his thumb against the pinprick scabs that dot his palm. It hurts, the ball of grief in his chest bounces around hitting nerves and making everything feel bigger and scarier than it is. It eclipses everything, impossible to ignore. Duck settles a hand on his shoulder and grief presses too hard against his throat. His vision swims, and a tear falls into his hand. Duck squeezes his shoulder, an ever present warmth at his side as Simon tries to stem the flow.

“It gets easier,” Duck's voice is soft, sympathetic, “but the good times always hurt worse than the bad ones.” Simon shakes his head, and looks at her over his shoulder, she swallows down the sadness in her smile. “I'm sorry baby,” she tells him, her sincerity hitting him the same as Price's, “I'm so sorry.”

Simon nods, he feels small and far away. He's too big to want to be held like a child, too old, yet Duck pulls him into her arms and he can't do anything but curl into her grip. His hands grip her jumper tight, keeping her held in place as he takes the offered comfort like a starving child takes grapes from the pale man’s table. There’s no judgement as tears stain her sweater, no harsh words or calls for him to “be a man”, only the quiet of the barn as Simon lets himself feel the grief he’d been avoiding all month. For years really. Ever since he found his family dead, felt the cold grasp of understanding wrap around him that he’d never have the sort of Christmas normal people have.

Not when his gifts were soaked in blood, not when he burned the last good things in his life.

“Why don’t you stay with Goosey tonight?” Duck offers, cutting through the tears, “The guest room is a mess, and I know she won’t mind.”

Of course you won’t, you’ve been trying to hold onto him all month. Trying to pull him out of the past as desperately as he was trying to avoid it. The first good thing in this chapter of his life. He should’ve been holding onto you, not pushing you away.

“You’re a good man Simon,” Duck mumbles, her voice quiet enough that he almost doesn’t catch the end of her sentence, “they wouldn’t blame you.”

He says nothing, just curls a little closer, and imagines it’s his mother saying those words.

The house is quiet when he and Duck walk back inside. Price sits on the couch reading, and opens his arms for his wife when she wanders over to him. His captain pulls her onto his lap and brushes her hair off her forehead, a quiet moment of affection in front of the fire that speaks to years of familiarity. He can only hope to have that with you someday, but first maybe an apology is in order. Simon bypasses the happy couple to go upstairs, following the lights to your room.

He pushes the door open as quietly as he can, watches you look up from where you're sitting on the edge of your bed. Your eyes water, but you smile for him. Simon steps inside, and closes the door behind him with a soft click.

“Momma finally convince you to stay here tonight?” You ask. Simon hums, and holds his arms out for you. It's entirely too endearing how quickly you rush into his hold. You press your head against his shoulder and Simon does the same, burying his nose against your neck to breathe in your familiar scent. Somehow it settles in his bones like coming home. God, he missed you. Missed the way you feel in his arms, the way you melt against him with a sigh like he’s all you’d ever need to be happy.

“You were waitin’ on me,” Simon says looking at the still made bed. The room is bathed in the soft glow of Christmas lights, and you stare up at him with a funny sort of smile, the kind that makes him think he’s said something colossally stupid.

“I’m always gonna wait on you,” You tell him, like it doesn’t mean the world to him. Always, you tell him, and Simon wonders again how one little word from you can make his heart feel like it will burst. You reach to cup his face, stroking your thumb over his stubble with a fondness he’s never seen before. It makes him want to tell you he loves you.

“I have something for you,” You say before he can spill his heart. You lean out of his arms to swipe a present off of the dresser next to you. You hold out a flat parcel, wrapped in brown paper with a neat red bow. It’s simple, but the way his name is written carefully on it, far flung from your usual chicken scratch, speaks to the care put into it. He lets you go to take it gingerly, turning it over in his hands to check the seams.

“We’re more of a presents on Christmas family, but I thought you might like this early.” You explain as Simon carefully slides his finger under the tape holding the paper together, gentle not to rip it as you watch him. He turns the picture frame over in his hand and freezes.

Grainy and just barely colored is a photo of Tommy’s wedding. The happy couple smiles up at him, with Simon and his mother standing at his brother’s side, while their new in-laws stand with Beth. His fingers trace the smile on his face, the way his mum holds onto his arm, happier than he'd ever seen her. He looks up to meet your eye, your unsure smile.

“Where did you get this?” Simon asks, looking back at a life he'd buried years ago. You step closer, settle a hand on his.

“I called a couple genealogy places in Manchester,” you explain, “figured your mom might've put an announcement in one of the local papers. They faxed a couple photos over.” You pause, unsure as Simon looks at the photograph. He looks back at you when you've been quiet a moment too long. “I have one of Joseph under the tree, I can go get it.” Your nerves bleed into your voice, your tone softer than Simon's ever heard it.

“I gotta have something to open tomorrow,” He tells you, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you close to his side and kissing your forehead. “Thank you.” Simon feels quieter, you wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze.

“I know it's not much,” you murmur, and Simon cuts you off.

“It's perfect.”

Somehow looking at the photo makes his heart feel lighter. It’s tangible, physical proof of the life he lived, and of the people he lived it with. He wonders if it was really so easy to find, you must have gone through a lot of effort to find this picture. The kind of effort you only put in for someone you love.

“Got something for you too,” He sniffs, settling the picture back where it had been.

“You do?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Simon flicks your forehead, and you swat at his hand. He grabs the little hinged box from his coat pocket and tosses it to you. You barely fumble it, popping the lid open with a smile. He almost worries you hate it the way your face screws up, your lips pouting and your nose wrinkling.

“I love it,” You tell him with a wavering voice, pulling the necklace free of its velvet prison. The little porcelain charm hangs gently from the silver chain, a tiny white goose with an orange beak and a blue scarf painted on it. You hold the charm in the palm of your hand, studying it. “Can’t believe you got me jewelry,” You joke, trying to cover the water brimming at your lashes, something Simon is happy to brush away with his fingers.

“Thought it was cute,” He supplies, you nod.

“It’s perfect,” You unclasp the clip on the chain, and hold it out to him, turning so Simon can pull the two ends around the back of your neck.

“I ever tell you that the bartender no-showed the reception?” Simon asks, helping you clasp the necklace. You laugh, trying to keep your voice down.

“No time like the present,” You smile over your shoulder at him, the sun peaking over the mountains just for him.

Simon holds his daughter up in front of the family Christmas tree, her little pudgy fingers reaching for the shiny ornaments as her eyes reflect the lights. She kicks her feet excitedly, cooing at the display and letting out eager huffs as she attempts to escape her father’s arms. He’s never seen anyone so excited about a few decorations, but the glee that radiates off of the baby is enough to lighten anyone’s mood.

“Don’t let her grab anything,” You call from the couch. Simon pulls Mary back into his arms and steps closer to pull a little fuzzy teddy bear ornament off a branch. He jingles it in front of her grubby little fingers with a smile.

“This one’s yours,” He tells her quietly, “don’t tell your mum.” Tiny fingers wrap around the soft toy, and pull it close. It’s amazing how different the holidays feel with a baby, it’s like experiencing everything for the first time all over again.

Mary holds onto the little bear and Simon holds onto the ornament hook, keeping it out of her mouth as she gums at the ornament’s ears. He’s almost tempted to let her keep it, except that the baby has more presents under the tree than any of them. The perks of being less than a year, he supposes. Having doting grandparents helps too.

Not that Simon can blame them. Mary smiles at him around the bear’s arm and his heart melts a little. Christ, how did he ever make something this perfect? “How many of these did you say you wanted?” He asks over his shoulder.

“As many as you can carry.” You hum. Simon bounces Mary in his arms, and pulls the ornament from her grasp when she switches her focus to him. Tiny fingers reach for his face, soft baby skin feeling over his stubble and giggling. He catches her hand and presses it to his lips, feeling the way Mary squirms in his arms, her chubby legs kicking excitedly.

“They’re all going to be good,” He promises her, “every Christmas-” he kisses her hand again, “-and every birthday-” another kiss, “-and everything in between. For the both of us.”

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luvismenu · 22 days

Text

Sweet Serendipity | Park Jimin | One shot

pairing: sugardaddy!jimin x sugarbaby!oc

summary: You found yourself drawn to the world of sugar babying, craving a taste of the luxurious life that had always seemed out of reach. It was a decision fueled by curiosity and a desire to experience something new. And that's how you crossed paths with Park Jimin, a man whose charm and wealth promised to fulfill your longing for extravagance and adventure.

warning: +18, rough and quick sex, vaginal sex, nipples licking, protected sex, explicit language (obviously), couch sex, sugardaddy!jimin, sugarbaby!oc

In a sprawling mansion nestled within the heart of the city, Jimin lived in lavish comfort. His home exuded opulence, with marble floors gleaming under crystal chandeliers, and sprawling gardens adorned with vibrant blooms. Every corner whispered of extravagance, from the grandiose staircase winding its way to the upper floors to the panoramic views of the skyline visible from every window. It was a testament to Jimin's immense success.

Despite the grandeur surrounding him, Jimin couldn't shake the feeling of solitude that lingered in the halls of his mansion. Surrounded by luxury, he yearned for something more, a connection that transcended material wealth.

As Jimin longed for more, you, his sugar baby, stood before him, a vision of beauty, igniting a spark of excitement and anticipation within him.

"Are we going to start your part of the deal?" you inquire, your voice steady but tinged with anticipation. Jimin smiles as he lowers himself onto the soft plush couch, he gestures to the empty space beside him. You join him, feeling a rush of excitement mingled with nervousness.

"Straight to the point, hm?" Jimin's voice is smooth, almost velvety, sending a thrill down your spine. His dark eyes hold a glint of amusement as he takes in your boldness. "I admire that," he adds, his words carrying a hint of intrigue.

"I want to get to know you more before I fuck you, sweetheart," Jimin continues, his tone softening as he reaches for a glass of champagne on the glass table. In that moment, it's clear that there's more to this arrangement than just business—a spark of curiosity and connection flickers between you, igniting a desire to explore deeper into each other's worlds.

"Champagne?" Jimin asks, his brow raised inquisitively. You nod in response, reaching for one of the glasses on the table and taking a delicate sip.

"You look beautiful, Y/n" Jimin remarks, breaking the silence as he too takes a sip of champagne. His eyes linger on you with a hunger that is softened by his innate elegance.

"I could say the same about you, Jimin" you reply with a small smirk, mirroring his actions and taking another sip of champagne. Jimin chuckles, clearly enjoying your wit and confidence.

As tension thickens in the air, your thoughts drift towards Jimin's life, veiled in mystery. Despite the enigmatic aura surrounding him, one thing is evident: he's a stunningly handsome man who effortlessly leaves you feeling weak in the knees.

"Like what you see, sweetheart?" Jimin's voice carries a teasing smirk as he catches you stealing glances at him.

"I do." you reply, matching his teasing tone, setting your glass down on the table. Jimin's smile widens mischievously as he leans in, intrigued.

"Tell me, what do you like?" he asks, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" you ask, tilting your head in confusion.

Jimin's chuckle carries a hint of surprise, intrigued by your apparent innocence. "I mean, what are your kinks, favourite positions, your limits?" he clarifies, his voice low and filled with anticipation, as if he's eager to explore every possibility with you.

"Oh," you murmur, relaxing into the plush cushions of the couch, you meet Jimin's gaze with a newfound confidence.

"This is about you, Park Jimin," you declare, your voice laced with seduction. "I am yours for tonight."

Jimin's eyes darken with lust as he watches you, his gaze filled with desire. "You're mine for tonight?" he repeats, his voice husky with anticipation, relishing the idea of having you all to himself.

"So I get to do whatever I want?" Jimin's voice is laced with a playful smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he considers the possibilities.

Leaning towards him, you let your breath dance across his ear as you whisper seductively, "Anything you want." Your words send a shiver down his spine, igniting a fire within him as he feels a surge of anticipation coursing through his veins.

A low growl escapes Jimin's lips as he leans in closer, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you in with a hunger that matches your own. In that moment, the air tingles with raw desire, and you both lean in.

You drew closer, the air buzzed with anticipation. Your eyes met, silently conveying your longing. Finally, your lips touched in a gentle kiss. It was soft and tender, a moment of pure connection where you lost yourselves in each other's warmth. Time seemed to stop as you savored the sweetness of the embrace, completely lost in the moment.

Your hearts raced, the kiss grew bolder, deeper, more passionate. His tongue darted out to trace the outline of your lips before slipping inside your mouth, tangling with yours in a sensual dance. You moaned softly against him, arching into his touch as your bodies melted together.

You met his movements with equal skill, teasing him with flicks of your own tongue before slipping into deeper kisses that left you both breathless.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally pulled away from the kiss, panting softly. He brushed a stray lock of hair from your face before leaning in to press another tender kiss on your cheek. "Do you want me to fuck you right here?"

Eager for his touch, you respond with a breathless, "Yes, please." Jimin's lips curve into a knowing smirk, his eyes alight with anticipation as he leans closer, pressing his lips against your neck.

As he kissed your neck, his hands snaked under your dress, tracing along your inner thigh until they found their way into your panties. His fingers traced the outline of your pussy lips, teasing you as his tongue continued to lick and nip at your neck.

You moaned softly at his touch, arching into his fingers as they teased your clit. Your hips bucked against his hand in silent plea for more. The combination of his tongue on your skin and his fingers dancing over her clit was driving you wild with desire.

With growing urgency, he began to undress you, pulling off your clothes piece by piece. He pushed up your dress, revealing the lacy black underwear. Next, he slipped off your bra, allowing your full breasts to spill free.

His hands cupped your breasts, weighing them in his palms. His mouth dropped to one of your breast, drawing the nipple into his mouth. He teased it with his tongue, sucking and nibbling gently before moving to the other breast. He flicked the nipple with his tongue, causing you to gasp in pleasure.

With his mouth still wrapped around your nipple, he reached down to his pants and unzipped them. He pulled out his hard cock, already glistening with pre-cum. He rolled on a condom, tugging it down over his length with a satisfying snap.

"Spread your legs sweetheart" Jimin growled into your ear, his voice thick with lust. Without hesitation, you spread your legs wide, offering him complete access to your dripping pussy.

He grips your hips firmly so that he could position himself between your thighs. He moves his hands to your waist, holding you steady. With a slow, steady pace, he guided his cock into your pussy. You moaned his name as he filled you up with his thickness stretching your walls and hitting your G-spot perfectly. "So fucking tight" Jimin groaned, slamming his hips into you.

The sound of your skins slapping together filled the room. He began to thrust harder and faster, pounding into you with a primal rhythm. You arched your back, meeting each of his powerful strokes with equal force. Your nails dug into his shoulders as your moans got louder.

"Tell me, sweetheart" he whispered hoarsely in your ear. "Tell me how much you love my cock inside you."

"Fuck! I love your cock buried deep inside me." you cried out.

He growled low in his throat, picking up the pace even more. His hips snapped against yours, driving his cock deeper with every thrust. Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through you.

As you both neared your climaxes, the room seemed to echo with your moans and gasps. His thrusts grew shorter and more intense while you tightened around him, signaling your imminent release.

You came around his cock, your inner walls squeezing tighter and tighter on his shaft. Jimin threw his head back, his body quaked with the force of his orgasm, his cum spurting into the condom as he filled it totally.

He pulled out of you gently, his cock still partially hard inside the condom. Your breathing slowly returned to normal as you both calmed down. Sweat glistening on your bodies, and soft moans still escaped from you occasionally.

"That was...amazing," you panted, looking up at him with a mix of awe and desire in your eyes. He leaned down to kiss you softly on the lips.

Jimin broke the kiss and grinned down at you. "I want to do this more often, with you," he said as he tossed the used condom into a nearby trashcan. "You're addicting."

a/n: I actually had sm fun writing this.

i hope you guys liked it too ♡

118 notes · View notes

isadoresmuse · 11 months

Text

Burning Desires

Note: The following fanfiction contains mature content and is intended for readers who are 18 years old or above. Reader discretion is advised.

Reader is only referred to as “you”/ Gender Neutral but has cis female parts.

Dad’s Best Friend (DBF) OC x Reader

Word Count: 1879

You sat at your desk, scrolling through your research documents absentmindedly your mind wandered to going home for the summer. Home, the sweltering air of the south, and a complex relationship with Your father’s friend, Noah Vandenberg, not that there was a relationship to speak of, just a crush. ‘Later’ you said to yourself and tried to concentrate on your college assignments.

Growing up, you had always been drawn to Noah's magnetic personality. He was charismatic, kind, and had an air of mystery that intrigued you. As a child, you admired him as an uncle figure, looking forward to his visits and the stories he would share. But as you entered your teenage years, your feelings toward him began to change. After all, he was charming and very handsome. What teenager couldn’t resist a rugged older man? Your father was often absent from Your life due to work commitments, leaving your craving for the attention and love you desperately sought. It was during one of these lonely periods that you found solace in the company of Noah, who had become more like a father figure to you.

Noah was a captivating man in his mid-40s, with a rugged handsomeness that turned heads wherever he went. He had an alluring charm that made it impossible for anyone to resist his presence. As you grew older, your admiration for him transformed into something deeper, something more complex. In your college years, you found yourself grappling with your emotions, torn between your undeniable attraction to Noah and the fear of consequences that such feelings could bring. You tried to suppress your lustful desires, burying them deep within your heart, but the more you fought against them, the stronger they grew. His pet names and gentle touches only fueled this taboo need from you. Finally, you returned home from college for the summer. Your father had gone away on a business trip, leaving you alone in the house.

Noah, being aware of this only thought it was polite to invite you over for his annual summer barbeque. His pool would be open and ready to use, the other female invitees took this as their opportunity to show off, not that you were any different. Vying for his attention like a lost puppy. Noah graciously welcomed you in with a bone-crushing hug and his dazzling smile, you couldn't help but steal glances at Noah, admiring his mature features and the way his eyes sparkled as he laughed giving you the layout.

“Almost thought you weren’t gonna make it, sugar,” His low southern draw slipped out. You blushed and smiled, feeling my cheeks grow warm. It was hard not to be flattered by such a handsome man's compliments.

You’d rarely if ever been called "sugar" before.

"I couldn't resist," You replied, feeling my heart flutter a little bit as you looked up into his eyes. They were so intense, it felt like he was gazing straight into your soul. You couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement sweep over you as Noah’s eyes locked on your form, scanning your scantily clad swimsuit. You felt a surge of electricity, a spark of chemistry that was impossible to deny. Noah cleared his throat and tried to compose his heated gaze. He needed to get control of his feelings, that’s his best friend's tantalizing kid! He couldn’t possibly lure you upstairs to his bedroom to “grab some more pool towels” ...could he?

Leading you up to his lavish room and into his bathroom, of course, decorated by his ex-wife Marilyn, you searched for the pool towels dutifully. You felt a firm chest press against your back, cornering you against the bathroom wall. His carnality wouldn’t be denied. As he gazed down at you, his eyes traced your curves, lingering on every curve and fold. He was taken aback by how arousing you looked, and also a little disappointed that he couldn't see down your swimsuit by just looming over you.

Oh well, no time like the present to remedy that situation.

Noah grabbed your hips, turning you around so your back was pressed against his body. Holding his gaze, he untied your swimsuit with deliberate slowness, enjoying the view of your bare ass presented to him. He enjoyed the way your skin glowed, radiating a sweet aroma that aroused him further. Aroused him so much that he had to take action immediately. He pulled the elastic band free and with ease removed your bikini top, baring your perfect breasts.

He cupped your breasts, tracing circles on your skin. He roughly pushed you down onto the marble bathtub and leaned over, his mouth watering at the sight of your full lips. Placing his thumb on your chin, he tilted your head upwards until your lips met his own. You moaned as you felt his breath on your neck, the pressure of his mouth, demanding more.

This primal kiss was everything Noah wanted, everything you craved. The sensations coursing through you; the raw hunger he invoked. He began sucking your bottom lip, gently biting on it. His tongue lightly grazed yours while his hands roamed down your back to grab hold of your ass. Pulling you closer to him, he ran his hands along your sides before moving up your stomach, until finally, his hands reached your breasts. Noah squeezed your ample cleavage, firmly kneading them. Your moans continued to build, increasing the level of passion within your core. Suddenly, you felt a tug at your bottoms.

Your eyes shot open in surprise when you realized that Noah had undone your waistband, and now had them slowly pulled down. Once they hit the ground, he stood up behind you, unbuttoning his shirt and letting it fall to the floor. He pulled you into his bedroom, you could hear Noah's guests down below, talking and laughing having no idea that the host is now ravaging you. The feeling of him running his fingers across your ass felt amazing. And the soft touch of his lips on your skin made your body scorch with need. Noah knew you were sensitive, you always seemed to enjoy being caressed softly. He turned you toward his bedroom window, the window that faced the backyard... the backyard filled with people. He huskily whispers in your ear.

"Sugar, look at you all wet and sensitive for me, just remember, sweet thing, the whole neighborhood is downstairs." You shivered at the thought, imagining the look on all those faces. Noah rubs your wet slit slowly, teasing you with his skilled touch. He chuckles quietly, causing you to blush, your modesty suddenly taking over. You lean back against his warm body with his fingers playing with your slick, causing your hips to buck slightly, trying to pull away from his teasing hand. With a devilish grin, he quickly slides one finger inside of you. He quickly changes his rhythm to finger-fuck you, swirling around and circling his finger against your G-spot, causing you to moan loudly.

He looks deep into your eyes, "Is Daddy making you feel good, Sugar?"

You nod enthusiastically, not able to speak yet because his actions have sent you spiraling toward your orgasm. His breathing becomes heavy as if he was exerting all of his energy into keeping himself under control. "Do you want to make Daddy feel good too, Sweetie?"

You realize that he can tell what you're thinking, and you nod again vigorously, practically begging him to let you pleasure him as well.

"Good." You glance out of the window to see the wandering guests below, unaware of the vulgar things their host was murmuring in your ear.

Suddenly, Noah lifts you effortlessly off the ground, his hands gripping your ass, and pulling you onto his bed; which caused you to gasp as your body was completely shocked by this sudden change. A dark look spreads across his face as he reaches down between your legs, grabbing your already swollen clit, eliciting an audible squeal from you. He brought his mouth down to your already throbbing cunt, your juices dripping from his teeth, saliva sliding down his chin. In one fluid motion, he placed his tongue in your cunt, licking at your wetness, driving you insane. He bit your clit hard, almost painfully, sending another jolt of pain throughout your entire body. He pulled back from your pussy, pushing you forward, spreading your legs wider. He was driving you crazy with the intensity of his attention, his fingers still thrusting in and out of your wet pussy.

"Daddy, I'm going to cum!"

Suddenly, he pulls away from you, never breaking eye contact. With his cock still erect, he stands above you and places the tip at the entrance to your tight little hole. "I know, baby, Daddy wants to watch you cum for him," he smirks. You stare deeply into his eyes as he pushes his cock into you, stretching your pussy even further than it already was.

You grunt as the head passes your inner ring, he continues, holding your gaze.

"Remember, I'm in charge here, doll,” You clench at his words, making him push deeper inside of you, using the momentum to keep you under his control. He takes hold of your hips, spreading your legs wide, forcing his cock as deep inside of you as possible. His words and actions leave you in shock, your body has lost all control of itself, he controls every part of your body right now, the only thing left for you to do is let go and be taken by him.

The sensation of him entering you over and over again leaves you on edge, close to the edge of your sanity. The walls of your cunt stretch to accommodate him, feeling his balls slapping against your ass. The feel of his hard, thick cock is nearly enough to send you over the edge, but he pulls back, leaving you hanging on the precipice of your orgasm.

Once more, he pulls back from your cunt and plunges into you once more. Your eyes are clenched shut tightly, your arms are pulled above your head by Noah’s hands, exposing the desire burning through your veins. It took all your strength to hide the urge to scream out for him. Noah, sensing your struggles, starts moving his hips faster, harder, relentlessly pounding into you. Your body shakes uncontrollably as wave after wave of orgasm washes over you.

He keeps up his pace, giving you exactly what you wanted, his eyes watching intently as he sends you higher and higher until finally, he can take no more.

"Come for Daddy, sweetie," he growls. You obey instantly, shuddering and crying out as you climax again, sending him into his orgasm. After a few moments, your breathing slows, your heart rate drops, and you lay exhausted beneath him.

Noah lifts you gently onto his chest, cradling you like a baby as you rest your head against his strong chest. Your exhaustion overcomes you and you fall asleep in his arms, allowing your mind to wonder about the happenings of the day.

226 notes · View notes

idanceuntilidie · 6 months

Text

Baked with love

Yan gingerbread man x gn reader

I drew Flynn it will be at the end of the post <3

There are no warnings this time :3

Requests are open :D or you can just ask about the oc I don’t mind.

Once upon a time there was a very old bakery, it was ran by a witch. It was very famous for its amazing sweets that were just too good to be true.

The kind words and compliments weren't enough for the witch, she had feared her bakery will be overshadowed. To make sure that wouldn't happen she decided to create living pastries and cookies.

It took her weeks, to perfect the recipe and design, it was finally time for the first ever living cookie.

So, she created the gingerbread man, and that was the last time anyone had ever seen her.

There was an old bakery around the corner, quite popular if you have to admit. For a good reason, the lady that worked there did absolute wonders.

She had a talent for baking. Today you decided to visit her and maybe buy few things. When you walked to the bakery instead of an old lady you met a stylish young man. When you went inside the bakery you could almost feel the magic that was probably present there. The smell was so welcoming and sweet, for some it felt like home, and it was hard to not agree. Though the interior of the place reminded you a little bit of your grandma's house. Small but cozy. Your eyes scanned briefly the delicious baked goods that laid out in the display, freshly baked blueberry and chocolate muffins caught your eye first. Then there was the best-looking apple pie you had ever seen, next to it were colorful macaroons, and so much more.

It made your mouth water.

There were new things also, you never knew Miss Sugar knew how to make candy.

When you were done eyeing up the treats that laid in front of you, you looked up, and instead of meeting the famous old lady you met a young man. His eyes widened, face getting slightly red.

"S-Sorry I did not mean to disturb you"

he bashfully looked away. You chuckled at that, reassuring him that it was okay.

You took a closer look at the young man in front of you. He was dressed in such a fancy manner, wasn't he scared his clothes would get dirty?

He wore frilly creamy blouse with fur? it was a very special look, but it looked well with the red bow and deep brown dress pants. Are those candies in his hair? Maybe they are charms, but boy do they look so real. You saw that he was looking at you again, but this time he tried to avoid eye contact.

"Sorry for staring-" - you started rubbing your neck.

"Nono it's okay really, you aren't really the first to do so..."

"That doesn't make it okay, where is Miss Sugar? I thought she was the only oe working here?"

He straightened his posture, for a second, he looked unsure what emotion should he show. He looked away; his hands rubbed his face. It took him a bit to face you again, his face filled with sorrow. "Oh, dear you don't know? My aunt left us few days ago" That sentence left you speechless. You didn't know Miss Sugar for that long, but she was such a nice lady and you felt really bad. Some part of you wished you visited the lady more.

"I am so sorry for your loss..."

He placed his hands on his chest, closing his eyes he said it was okay, when he opened them again, he smiled sweetly.

"Well now I am the owner and baker now, what can I help you with today?"

"I was wondering if you had f/p?"

"We sure do hang on" - he chirped and smoothly went to the room in the back.

You smiled; glad he is dealing so well with the loss of his aunt. It looks like he enjoys the job too. You look around again, he didn't change the decorations maybe he had a sentiment for it?

"Here you go!"

His cheery voice broke you out of your thoughts.

"Thank you uhhh?"

"Flynn"

"Thank you, Flynn, just a warning you will be seeing me around very often"

Flynn placed his hand on his forehead and dramatically sighed "Oh poor me" before laughing, you joined him soon enough.

You paid for your treats and said your goodbyes with Flynn.

You were true to your word; you visited the boy almost every day. You two bonded quite fast. Flynn was very sweet, and when you were hanging around with him you felt so safe.

Though the only weird thing you noticed was that every single time you asked him for something, he always went to the backroom to bring your goods. Flynn always knew what to bring you, sometimes it felt he knew you better than you yourself.

You sometimes wonder why the baked good he brings you have such weird ginger after taste.

But it's okay it's probably nothing right?

82 notes · View notes

yournameoneverypage · 2 years

Text

Aw, Nuts

NSFW 18+ / Minors, please DNI…

Word Count: ~4.8k

Notes: I had fun with this one, until I didn't, and then again when I did. 😜 Some angst, smut, and some fluff. Didn’t stick to the request exactly. Let’s be honest, no sexy time for three months? None at all? Come on, it’s Shawn. 😝 I haven’t written present tense for awhile, so please forgive any mistakes you might see... Might be a bit before I get to another request. I’ve been neglecting my OC series, so I’m going to try to finish the next part of that before I sift through my asks again. As always, likes are wonderful, but reblogs are better, and comments are cherished. 💕

* ❤️ *

You scrutinize yourself in your full length mirror.

You’re wearing a blush colored, lace bodycon dress and the most comfortable of the cutest heels you own for a night out with your boyfriend.

You screw your face and huff, “Am I not attractive? Am I not sexy?”

“Of course you are, darling,” your best friend, JJ, hums distractedly.

“You would fuck me if you were straight, wouldn’t you?”

“In a heartbeat, Sweetie,” he mumbles.

You glance over your shoulder. The other occupant of your apartment is sideways in the plush armchair in the corner of your bedroom, his eyes not on you, but his phone screen.

His inattention further frustrates you. “Bitch, enough with the damn phone. I’m in the middle of a crisis here! I need your attention more than whatever sugar daddy you’re flirting with on Grindr.” You stomp across the room and yank his phone from his hands.

“What the hell?!” He snatches his phone back but wisely shoves it in his pocket and sits up properly. “All right. You have my undivided attention. What’s the goddamn crisis?”

“Shawn.”

JJ raises an eyebrow. “Shawn?”

You pout. “We’ve been dating for three months and we still haven’t had sex.”

“Wait, what??” JJ thought you were keeping your sex life private for Shawn’s sake, being who he is; he hadn’t ever thought there might not be a sex life to talk about.

“What am I doing wrong? What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing. He is wild about you. He looks at you like you hung the moon, and the stars.”

“Well then, what the hell?” you grumble.

“You’re not usually shy in taking what you want. Direct the outcome.”

“You think I haven’t tried? You do know that my boyfriend is one of the hottest men in the world, right?”

“Well aware, thank you,” JJ snickers. “Are you getting any kind of action? Come on, spill.”

“We have really hot makeout sessions.”

“Yes, I’ve seen the marks left behind,” he mutters.

“He loves my tits.”

“You do have phenomenal tits.”

‘We’ve gotten really good at second base… But when I try to stick my hand down his pants, he puts the brakes on.”

“I think the better question is, what’s wrong with him?”

You give JJ a little shove, by his face, and chuckle softly before you sigh again. “I miss sex. I really, really like sex.”

“For fuck’s sake, just tell him to dick you down already.”

That’s the moment you hear a knock on your apartment door. Shawn has already charmed the entirety of the front desk staff; they don’t even call you anymore for consent to let him upstairs.

You swing open the door and Shawn’s eyes brighten. “Baby,” he murmurs, his smile even more brilliant.

He draws you to him to give you an enthusiastic kiss hello. You can’t help but react; this boy is your kryptonite.

When you ease away from each other his eyes caress you from head to toe. Deliberately. He rumbles, “You look gorgeous.”

“So do you,” you breathe, cheeks pink, despite your frustration with him.

He’s wearing navy, low-rise, straight-leg pants that hug his ass in the most perfect way, his Bode, white lace, long-sleeve shirt you both love so much, and his go-to black Chelsea boots.

Your man is a fucking model. (No, really. Signed with Wilhemina and everything, with campaigns for Armani, Calvin Klein, and Tommy Hilfiger under his belt.) He is magnificently built, tall and broad, with skin reflecting his half-Portuguese heritage due to an abundance of vitamin D from the summer sun, and dark curls at the exact length you favor.

“I have half a mind to say fuck it and stay in tonight,” he smirks.

“Can we? I’d be all right with that.”

“But then I can’t show my girl off,” he grins. “I want people to turn their heads when we walk by and think to themselves, what a lucky bastard.”

Where normally his boasting and praise would light you up and have you floating on air, head held high, proud to be his girl, tonight it rubs you the wrong way.

Shawn offers you his arm and smiles. “Ready, baby?”

///

After your first few dates, you and Shawn had taken to sitting side by side at restaurants instead of across from each other, so his first inkling that something is off is when you choose the seat opposite the cushy side where you would usually sit together.

Despite his bemusement, he pulls your chair out for you like the gentleman he has always been.

The second indication is how you aren’t as engaging or flirtatious as usual. In truth, it’s the first time he has ever felt that he has dominated the conversation. There had always been an equal push and pull between you; it was what made all of your conversations so effervescent.

Worry begins to prickle beneath his skin.

Halfway through dinner he’s bothered enough to reach for your hand and draw you from your chair to sit beside him. You huff softly but still go willingly. You hate how you’re feeling upset with him at all.

He drapes his arm across the back of the bench behind you. It’s reassuring that you lean into him. After he leaves a trail of little kisses along your jawline he asks, “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours? We always sit together. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything is fine.” You try to smile genuinely, but all Shawn can see is disquiet in your eyes. You haven't ever been a good liar.

He catches the attention of your waitress and motions for the check.

“But we aren’t done with dinner,” you contend.

“Honey, you’ve barely touched your entree,” he gently argues, stroking the soft skin of your back with gentle fingertips.

You reach for his other hand and entwine your fingers with his. “I'm fine, babe. Let’s order dessert and have another glass of wine.”

He slides his Amex card into the check presenter and hands it back to the waitress. He kisses you once she walks away and murmurs against your lips, “Let’s go. This place is overrated anyway.”

///

The plan had been to go on to a speakeasy after dinner to meet some of your friends, have a few drinks, and listen to some live music. So, when you realize Shawn is taking you in the direction of his place instead, you feel terrible for ruining more than dinner.

“No, baby. Let’s just go on to the bar,” you insist. “Our friends are waiting.”

He places his hand on your thigh and draws shapes against your skin. He glances at you and smiles affectionately, even though now you can see the disquiet in his eyes.

“Another time. I’ve decided I want my girl all to myself tonight. They’ll forgive us.”

///

You love Shawn’s place, simply for the way it smells. It’s everything Shawn, with little nuances of you. You spend more time at his place than yours because there’s more privacy. He has no roommate to crash your movie nights or cuddle sessions like JJ too often does. It has begun to feel more like home than your own apartment.

You slip out of your heels and start toward Shawn’s room to steal one of his shirts so you can get out of your dress, but before you can go too far, Shawn reaches for your hand, causing you to pause and turn back to him.

He wastes no time in trying to fix whatever seems to be fracturing. He asks quietly, “Are you going to tell me what’s up?”

You return to him, slip your arms around him, and inhale his very essence. You fit perfectly in his arms and it’s the closest he’s felt to you all night.

You have only been together for three months; it's safe to say he may not yet know all of your moods. Maybe this is just another piece of you he has to learn.

You rise onto your tiptoes and brush your lips against his, encouraging him to kiss you. He gets caught up in you as quickly and as easily as he always does, his hands slipping into your hair, the pads of his thumbs stroking your face, as your kisses turn from soft to fervent.

Your hands reach for him, and fingers fumble to undo his pants.

You normally get much further than this before he stops you. But you still haven’t told him why you haven’t been yourself tonight and his brain takes over sooner than it usually would.

“Honey?” He pauses your hands and eases away, rezipping and refastening his pants, despite the fact that they’re too tight now and quite uncomfortable.

Your frustration finally boils over, and with an irritated sigh you push him away with hands against his chest. He stumbles one step back.

You immediately, apologetically rub your hands down the front of his shirt and then reach up to cup his face. He covers your hands with his and breathes your name, - an urge to help him understand.

“You tell me I’m beautiful all the time, and we make out until our lips are numb, and we get here, to this point, and so, so close to so much more, and just when I think, finally…”

You take two steps back, quickly wiping a tear from the corner of your eye, asking meekly, “Do you not want to have sex with me?”

“Oh my God,” Shawn gasps. It’s as if the floor opens beneath his feet and swallows him whole. “Sweetheart.” He feels like the biggest son of a bitch for making you cry, for making you doubt your appeal when, to him, you are the most beautiful woman in the world, or feel insecure in any way.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You can't imagine the things I've wanted to do to you since the first moment I laid my eyes on you.”

“I don’t understand,” you whisper.

“Come’ere.” He reaches out to take your hands again in his and draws you close. “I just… I wanted to take it slow.”

“This isn’t three dates or three weeks, Shawn, we’ve been together for three months.”

“Can- can I be honest?” he exhales shakily, cheeks pinking.

“Always. You know that.”

He gently squeezes your hands. “I wanted to take it slow… a- at first because… My God, honey, you’re perfect, and I like you, like, a lot, you know? Hell, I- I more than like you,” he confesses, blushing even darker. “And I didn’t want to fuck anything up before I had the chance to make you mine…

“I was afraid to move too fast, because I usually do, and then it always ends as quickly as it starts. And I want things to work out this time, more than I’ve ever wanted things to work out with anyone else.”

“Shawn,” you wheeze, easing your hands from his to run down his chest. You bite your lip to try to keep yourself from smiling like a fool.

“I know once we…” He rubs the back of his neck. “You know…”

Fuck, was he the most adorable thing ever sometimes. “Have sex?” you smirk.

His eyes meet yours and he licks and bites his lips in that way he does that makes you crazy. “Once I really get between your legs, I know I’ll never be able to get enough of you.”

“’cause you like me, like, a lot?” you grin, even as your face flames. “I like you, like, a lot, too, Shawn… And I don’t know, never leaving bed sounds pretty fucking amazing to me.” You tug on his hand, - a request to follow you to his room.

He stays firmly grounded. “Wait.”

You groan with a flare of new frustration. “You’re really trying my patience, babe.”

He has to close his eyes for his next admission and his face burns hot. “I’m having some… performance anxiety.”

You rise on your tiptoes and murmur against the shell of his ear as your hand brushes across the significant bulge at the front of his pants. “Sure doesn’t feel like it to me.”

“That’s not-” he hums, wetting his lips, “the problem.” He guides your hand back to where it had just been because he really wants it there.

You gently palm him through his pants. “Then what’s the problem, baby?”

“I haven’t had sex with- with anyone for awhile. Just- just my own hand. And when- when I…”

His stuttering is positively endearing.

“When you…?” you encourage, coyly. You know what he’s alluding to, but you want to hear him say it.

“I think about you when my hand is on my cock,” he murmurs, “dreamin’ it’s yours.”

Wetness immediately pools between your thighs thinking about how hot it would be to watch him get himself off.

“And I come embarrassingly fast. Like a damn twelve-year-old boy who just discovered his dick. So… when you try to put your hand in my pants…”

“What? Think I’ll be unimpressed with your size?” you tease. “It’s all about how you use it.”

“You’re impossible,” he laughs, pulling you against him and palming your ass like you had just been palming his crotch.

“I already know that is not going to be an issue,” you murmur, increasing the pressure of your stroke.

It's almost too much. “You gotta stop now, baby,” he groans, easing away from your caress. “I want to last more than seven seconds,” he puffs and nervously runs a hand through his hair. “And that- that’s what I worry about. I don’t want you to be… disappointed. And then I get… stuck in my fucking head.”

“Could never be disappointed, babe.” You cup his face and kiss him tenderly. “I wish you would’ve told me all of this sooner.”

“I'm an idiot,” he states. “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart. I wasn’t thinking about how my anxieties were affecting you, and I should have. I never meant to make you feel undesirable, or that I didn’t want to shove my cock in you every fucking chance I had. Shit, baby.”

“Aw, you say the most romantic things,” you intone amusingly.

He hooks his fingers beneath the straps of your dress, murmuring, “I want to make love with you…” He slides the straps off your shoulders. “…every second of every day. Is that better?” he hums.

“No, no, right now shoving your cock in me, - that works,” you say breathily, again unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. He doesn’t stop you this time. You grip the open waistband to sharply tug him closer.

He exhales with a suppressed grunt that has you begging. “I’m fucking horny, Shawn. I need it,” you whine. “I need you.”

He has quickly located and unfastened every tie or zipper keeping your dress on your body. “Been dying to get you outta this dress all fucking night,” he groans, as it flutters to the floor.

His eyes caress the swells of your breasts almost spilling out of your strapless bra. Your nipples are visible through the sheer material. He cups your breasts and drags the pads of his thumbs over your taut peaks. “Fucking flawless,” he groans.

You begin to walk both of you towards the sofa while unbuttoning the only three buttons on his shirt and sliding it off his broad shoulders. The backs of his calves find your mark.

Before he can even catch up, you’ve pushed his pants over his hips and have gently shoved him down onto the sofa. You’re in his lap the next moment, straddling him, your lace-covered core pressing against his cotton-encased hardness.

“Shit,” he curses. His hands can’t decide if they want to be on your hips or your ass.

One of your hands curls around the back of his neck, the other tangles in his curls. You trail tiny kisses from his chin up along his jawline.

You start rocking your hips and touch the tip of your tongue to the lobe of his ear. “You feel good, baby,” you purr.

His grip tightens on your hips and you hear a tiny rumble at the back of his throat. He places open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and over the swells of your breasts.

Your hips roll and speed up. The friction is divine and you think you might come, just like this, but your own pleasure is second to Shawn’s. You want him to get out of his head; you don’t want him thinking at all, just feeling.

You start to grind your hips against his. “Oh God-” he exhales. You’re soaking the lace of your panties and you can feel how you’re making a mess of his boxer briefs as well, where his cockhead is straining.

It’s not how he wants things to go, but it feels too good. His protestations are weak.

You take his earlobe between your lips and gently suck and lick it. With the tip of your tongue, you trace the contours of his ear.

He grabs your ass and squeezes, trying to still your hips, as your lips return to his earlobe and gently nibble on it. “Baby- baby- stop stop stop-” he gasps, lips against your skin. “You’re gonna make me-”

His orgasm washes over him and he nuts with a shuddering groan as wetness coats the inside of his underwear. Like a twelve-year-old boy.

You release his ear and slow your hips, trying to edge yourself away from your own climax, while his cock continues to throb and jerk.

His hand grips the back of your head, forcing your lips to his. His tongue delves deep into your mouth. He grunts as your lips part. He tries to scowl but he can’t stop from laughing instead. “You did that on purpose.”

“Mhm,” you smirk. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, you’ll last longer next time.”

He has you under him on the sofa before you can do anything but squeal and laugh.

“You’re asking for it,” he laughs, deep and throaty, hurriedly, roughly dragging the already saturated lace of your panties over your hips, down, and off. “And for the record,” he smirks, gripping his half hard cock through his boxers. “I’m above average, and I know how to use it.”

You hook your finger in the waistband and start to draw it down. “Prove it.”

Shawn pushes his boxer briefs down, freeing his cock. You lick your lips, thinking just how badly you want to get your mouth on him.

It’s as if he can read your thoughts. “Nuh-uh. My turn.” Hovering over you, he brings his lips to your ear and growls, purrs, “I know how to use my tongue, too.”

The way he kisses is enough to confirm that, but knowing he is about to bury his face between your thighs sends a fresh wave of desire throughout your body, and makes your pussy throb.

Thank fuck for the size of his sofa, as he pushes your legs open.

You gasp and groan, your back arching, when he lowers and closes his mouth around your center.

You bite on your lower lip, hand immediately tangling in his hair, as you rock against his face. You moan, hips moving instinctively against him, “Shawn… hmm… yes, baby, yes...”

His tongue is on your clit, first and middle fingers dipping inside you. He quickly finds that magic sweet spot, crooks his fingers, and laves and flicks and sucks your button, and you’re levitating off the sofa.

It’s too much and also not enough. One hand is in his hair, tugging, the other is twisted in the sofa’s slipcover beside you. You try to close your legs, but can’t with his broadness in the way. “Shawnshawnshawn,” you wheeze. “OhGod-”

His fingers are soaked with your juices. He’s fully hard again from the scent of your arousal, the moans and groans he’s drawing from you, how you’re rippling against him, and the friction of his cock rubbing against the sofa.

He knows you’re close; his fingers slip from you and you whine, tightening your grip in his curls, but he wants to prolong your ascension and he needs to taste you again.

“Please,” you beg, breathlessly.

He licks away the wetness you’ve already released and then his tongue is where his fingers just were.

Everything about him is long; his limbs, his fingers, his cock, his tongue. Your taste is addictive, and he feasts, humming and rumbling, urging you to take your pleasure by pushing against his mouth.

You’re near your zenith; he can tell by the way your hand in his hair tugs and how your moan changes. Your body begins to quiver and again he withdraws.

“Nonono,” you gasp, whimper, “pleasepleaseplease.”

But he’s only removed his mouth to sink two fingers back into you.

“That’s it. Come for me, Sweetheart,” he murmurs, watching his fingers pump in and out of you, each time brushing against that tight bundle of nerves. You clench around him, moaning, chasing the release you might die if you don’t get rightthefucknow.

With one more firm crook of his fingers, and just the right amount of pressure from his thumb on your clit, you climax, shatter, and cry out as your orgasm fully claims you.

“Gorgeous,” Shawn purrs as he softly kisses and caresses you through every twitch and tremble and wave, until you’re blissed out and hypersensitive to his touch.

You are loose and pliant and flush and utterly exquisite beneath him. Shawn has never been more tempted to slide into a pussy unprotected, but it’s too big of a risk that he’d find himself wanting to stay buried within you when he came. He wouldn’t dare ask you to compromise yourself that way.

He is swiftly on his feet, practically dashing for his bedroom, calling out, “Condom!”

You watch his bare ass, that you will absolutely sink your teeth in at some point, disappear from the living room. You yell after him, giggling, still in that post-orgasm haze and giddy, “After tonight you’re stashing condoms within easy reach of every room of this condo!”

He’s back and on his knees between your legs moments later, with the small foil in his hand.

You rise, and reach for it, asking softly, “Can I?”

His breath hitches. “Y- yeah.”

“Will you show me how?”

“Fuck.” He grips the base of his shaft and squeezes gently, just enough to take the edge off.

He guides your hands with the exact sensation and pressure he likes as he helps you slide it down his length.

You wrap your hand around his girth, and give his cock a gentle tug. He grunts and pushes into your palm. You relax again against the sofa cushions, taking him with you, and line him up with your opening.

“Shit,” he curses in anticipation. As desperate as he is to bury himself balls deep within you, he stills you with a gentle, “Y- you’re ready?”

He’s a big boy, but he prepped you quite well with those long and marvelous fingers while eating you out, and you are still wet from your climax. You kiss him in response.

Temples pressed together, eyes down, you both watch as he slowly, gently begins to push into you.

The burn and stretch is intense in a way that makes you lightheaded with pleasure and you moan softly while you adjust to the way he fills you.

“OhmyGod,” he gasps. You feel like heaven around him.

You gently trail your fingertips from where you’re intimately connected, up, along the lines of his abdomen and chest. You place your hands around his face. Your eyes stay locked with his until he bottoms out.

You slide your arms around his neck. You gasp when the pebbled nubs of your breasts brush against his chest.

He licks into your mouth, curls his tongue around yours. You gently bite and tug at his lower lip. You wrap one of your legs around his hip and roll your pelvis, urging him to start moving.

He needs no further encouragement, easing back, pushing in. You whimper as you find your rhythm together, fingernails denting crescent marks in the tight, broad muscles of his upper back.

He latches onto your shoulder with his teeth and moans deep in his throat. He withdraws, slides in, brings his mouth to suck bruises in the crook of your neck before soothing them with his tongue.

You murmur his name. He hums yours with every withdrawal and thrust.

Your back arches and you moan again when he lowers his mouth to your breasts. He licks and tugs and sucks each taut, dusky pink nipple until they’re too sensitive and you draw his lips to yours.

“Fuck,” he grunts into your mouth. “You feel so good.” His pupils are blown wide. “Baby,” he groans. He needs to be deeper.

He swiftly shifts onto his knees and you both cry out at the new angle. He grips the outsides of your thighs, pushes up, driving his cock deep, hitting your g-spot. Your little gasps and whimpers are the music that drives him. He moans with every rock into you.

The position you’re in allows easy access to your clit and your hand falls between you.

“That’s it, baby,” he hums, grins, rumbles, “Look at you…”

You start to tremble. Needy sounds and words without meaning tumble from your lips, and you tip your head up.

His teeth nip against the length of your neck. “Wanna see you fall apart again,” he whispers against your pulse.

You cry out his name as his cocktip finds your sweet spot again, and again. “That’s it, Sweetheart.”

Your fingers over your clit begin to move faster. Your hips rise, your back bends, and your breath catches. Your orgasm sweeps over you swiftly, unexpectedly, sharply. You don’t even have the chance to find your voice as your other hand screws tight and stars explode behind your eyes.

Your chest lifts and falls rapidly. Your hands grip his ass and you pull him against you.

He grunts. His eyes close and his mouth slackens as he chases his own pleasure. His pace begins to speed up, and then falter. The sounds dripping from his lips are sinful.

He pulls back, almost slipping out of you. He’s on the edge. His balls are heavy and tight and already drawing up close to the base of his dick. He moans as he slides back in.

You swivel your hips just right and rock down as he rocks up, meeting his thrust. He snaps his hips once, twice. “yesyesbabyyes-” You clench around him, again, and his orgasm creeps up from every part of his body until he’s both desperate for it to stop and to continue forever.

“holyfuck,” he wheezes, gasps. He stutters, stills, and unravels buried deep within you with a satisfying groan of your name.

You tighten your legs around his waist and rock your hips, again clenching your inner walls around him while you coast the aftershocks. You both finally still, breath heaving, giggling softly. His hands slide along the length of your arms and he trails little nips up along your jawline.

You melt into the sofa. “Mm… you were worried for nothing,” you purr, a small smile on your lips.

Once he was out of his head and in the moment, it had been a non-issue. All he had been fixated on was how to make you cry his name. His grin is smug upon hearing the absolute satisfaction in your voice, knowing he is responsible for making you feel so good.

You kiss him, you don't want to stop kissing him, but he detaches his lips from yours with a chuckle.

His hand moves between your bodies to hold onto the condom, and he carefully pulls out. You whimper with the loss

He reaches for a few tissues from the box on the coffee table and wraps the condom within them, placing the mess in the nearby decorative bowl. That'd do for now; he'd dispose of it properly later.

He moves back into your embrace and hovers above you for a few moments longer, returning his lips to yours.

“We might want to move this to the bedroom,” he smirks, mischief dancing in his eyes, guiding your hand to his cock, already hardening again.

“You’re insatiable,” you giggle, tightening your leg around his waist and your hand around his dick.

He hums and rocks his hips just a little. “Warned you,” he smirks.

“Just wanna stay right here,” you murmur, pulling him down atop you. “Just for a minute.”

“Imma crush you.”

“Won’t let you.” You can still breathe, and his weight on top of you is intimate and comforting. He relaxes, sinking into you, resting his head on your chest.

You run your fingers soothingly through his curls. “Shawn?” you whisper.

“Yeah baby?” he breathes, just as softly.

“I ‘more than like you’, too.”

~ * ~

@mendesblurb @benito-mi-vida @monikamendes @mendesficsxbombay @pamelagramm @chocochipcookie305 @misti-ka @fallinallinshawn

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes request #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fiction #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you

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eldritch-spouse · 1 year

Note

Okay so we know almost all the red flags in your boys, but what are so green flags in them?

Like, what some of your ocs will say to their darling to convince them *THEY* are the ultimate choice and ect?

[GREEN FLAGS? PFFT- OKAY. IF YOU SQUINT.]

Why you should date these losers!

Morell

He can cook so well!;

Great hunter;

B I G .

Santi

Juiciest tits in town;

Wholesome deep down;

Sugar daddy material.

Grimbly

Cute enough to give you diabetes;

Will make your enemies cry;

Heeheehoohoo he sleeps upside down like a bat.

Gallon

Mysterious drama whore vibes;

For the living latex enthusiasts;

Knows his drinks better than anyone else.

Nebul

Astrology bitch, but for real;

Loves animals;

Thick ass.

Vinnel

Funny;

Thee wanteth the jestussy;

You can hold him like a balloon while he floats.

Patches

Meow meow nerd man;

His ability to cum in his pants from a couple of touches alone will flatter you;

Two for one, you also get a gremlin horse-loving boyfriend!

Fank-e

*Slaps Fank-e's top* This bad boy can fit so many illicit substances in his storage space;

L0L R4ND0M XDDD R4WR :333 T4C05;

Rainbow dong, glow in the dark robussy, whatever you want.

Belo

This one's for the peeps in the back with religious guilt;

Can lift you into flight;

Usually very obedient.

Sybastian

Pick a shape!;

Amazing dad material;

Oral game on point.

Krulu

Godfucker privileges;

Everyone fears you;

Dominion over The Clergy.

Miara

Ultimate dommy mommy;

Usually a very bright soul;

Breederism, you say?

Breg

So dedicated. He's trying his best;

Heeheehaha dark mode;

Gee Billy, two willies?!

Fasma

Old wise soul. Sort of;

Alcohol and smokes always available;

Kind of like a living stim toy.

Ludwig

Jack of all trades, master of none;

Very chill for a wrath demon;

Living heater boyfriend.

Obie

Will eat your cooking no matter how terrible;

Will never judge the state of disarray your house is in;

Obscure musician.

Mervin

Devoted, but subtly;

Will get you nothing but the best ever, if you're mistreated he will go into Karen-tier fits;

Shags

Goth-ish.

Katia

MILF;

You get three platonic stepson yanderes;

This woman is so wholesome it hurts.

Very artistic and creative;

Knows mothman;

Cottagecore boyfriend.

Rinx

THE sugar daddy;

Big ole hands to finger grab you with;

Has a pile of riches he sleeps on like a dragon.

Zizz

Comfiest boyfriend;

You don't have to do anything, just exist next to him;

You have joint custody of 300 plushies.

Vesper

CEO OF SEX;

Everyone wants to fuck you so bad oh my God-;

Three schlongs and heart nipples.

Lacai

Short king;

Bug Man McGee;

Idk he's got Tumblr pretty boy charm, you guys like him a lot.

Ivani

Can do the goblin shark jaw extension;

Have you ever seen a shark with tits? Huh?;

Very easy to satisfy, just get her hot dogs.

Colmei

Limitless supply of honey cum;

You're treated like a bee Queen;

Heehee cute buzzing.

Adelo

Rule over angels;

Silly man;

Chad won the eye number lottery.

Adrul

You can ride his back!;

Serious but sweet;

Hell fears you.

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bearlytolerant · 23 days

Text

15 Lines of Dialogue Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Tagged by @thevikingwoman thank you!

These are from a wip and it’s Gwyn from dragons dogma 2. Putting below the cut for length.

1. “A senseless request when you are all that consumes my thoughts now.”

2. Ah, another pretty boy in distress. Shall I throw you over my shoulder then?”

3. “You can leave, if you wish. Know I would miss you dearly, if you choose that path, but my joy is brightest when you are defying what destiny has ordained for you.” She reaches up to tuck a stray hair behind his ear. “And you shine brightest when your actions are of your own volition.”

4. “Raise your hand against her again and I’ll wear your fingers as charms on a chain around my neck.”

5. “Now if I told you that, it would no longer be a well kept secret now, would it?”

6. “Do you three gossip about me as well while I am away?”

7. “Have you lost your senses?” She reels on him in the dark recesses of the dim lit halls, a draft sending a chill down her spine and raising the hairs on her neck. “Times such as these require playing the part of the feckless dullard. Either play the part with me or wait here.”

8. “No, it does not bother me that he takes Disa to his bed. In another world perhaps—“ She laughs. “I have always enjoyed a bit of sugar with my cream.”

9. “If this is my destiny,” she spits, fists balled in seething anger. “If this is only what I was made for in this world, then perhaps I should unmake this world.”

10. She hovers in the doorway, eyes fixated on the bandit leader. “You can milk him all day but I believe this billy goat is better repurposed for slaughter.”

11. “Fear grips my heart nearly every waking hour, but when we are yoked together, I know only courage.”

12. “Senseless from the moment I met you.” She tsks. “You are a fool to think my heart does not ache for you. Not just your touch but those words whispered and carried off by the winds during our midnight trysts.” She takes another brave step toward him. “I miss you and long for you. I did the night we met and even more so now.”

13. “Have you seen the view from here? How unfortunate to have been made arisen. I should have liked to have been made with wings.”

14. “I hear the brine calling and it sounds like it’s begging for supper,” she says and delivers an arrow to its eye.

15. “His objective is dubious at best but I admire him. Though I believe his thorough research methods could be used for better means, his spirit is unwavering in resolve.” She offers a wry grin. “And I’m not just saying that because he carries the same resolve in the bedroom.”

Tagging @ellstersmash @fangbangerghoul @lisa-and-shadow @myreia @staticpallour @a-cosmic-elf @roguelioness and anyone else who sees this and would like to do this for their oc (and no obligations of course)!

#15 lines of dialogue #bear writes #oc: Gwyn #dd2 #she is my life and my muse right now #thanks for the tag viking!#this one was really fun!

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yandereaffections · 1 year

Text

Javier Adolfo (YA’s Oc) Masterlist

The Man Himself

Character Description

S/o being bullied at work

Charming his Darling

Confident S/o

S/o who loves Skirts

Cute S/o who sucks at their Job

Avoiding him to make a gift

Home cooked meals for a Date

S/o who is pressured to do their best 24/7

Affectionate S/o

Exhausted Doctor S/o

S/o Binding her Chest cause of office harassment

S/o being black mailed for sex

House wife S/o

S/o who has Insomnia

S/o trying to fight a Racist

S/o confessing they want a big family

S/o who lives a double life

Spoiling Javier

Another yandere kidnapping S/o

Naga S/o that knows nothing of Human Culture

Not a morning person S/o

Sitting on Javiers lap

S/o who is apart of a huge Crime Organization

Nuclear Apocalypse

Naga Javier

Vampire S/o cautious of taking Javiers blood

S/o whose both cutesy and extreme

Filthy rich S/o

Jokingly calling Javier “Sugar Daddy”

Poor Underweight S/o refusing to bother for help

CEO Crush already married

Comforting Chubby S/o after being sexually Harassed TW

S/o who runs up to hug Javier everytime she sees him

Going to Disney

S/o getting hit on by their boss

“Have my babies”

Drunk S/o unknowingly confessing they love javier

Babysitting with S/o

Punk Rocker Darling

Making S/o wait for marriage as tease play

S/o constantly buying make up palettes

Hitman S/o warning for him not to go to work

S/o who cuddles him during work

Surprising javier with your intelligence

S/o Introducing ‘javey wavey’ to their friends

Trying to cook for his s/o

Accident prone s/o

S/o whose constantly wondering

COVID quarantine comfort

Cosplayer S/o

Homeless S/o asking him for cash

Figuring out S/o is pregnant

Yandere s/o

Making him cry HC

S/o whos only seen eating when they steal his meal

Shy S/o who loves affection

holding and playing with his S/os hair

S/os family fat shames them when they eat

Darling packs him lunch everyday

S/o whos easily scared

Stealing your clothes

S/o who slams their foot against the wall anytime it falls asleep

S/o who cant cook

Manipulation HC

S/o who refuses to go to stop smoking TW

Arguing HC

Incubus Javier w/ a s/o who looks down on themselves

Vampire Javier/ Halloween date

Vampire

Poltergeist

Decorating the office building for halloween

Bratty S/o

Halloween Date

Werewolf

S/o who cries during the emotional parts of movies

Motivating S/o to study

Javier Fluff

Top energy S/o

Meeting Javiers Grandmother

Sub energy S/o

S/o who wants to travel alot

Comforting a stressed S/o

S/o who doesnt want kids

Depressed Darling

More Fluff

Seeing S/o without makeup for the first time

Darling playing with his hair

Taking stressed S/o away from their struggles

Sugar Daddy HC

Boba tea date

Diabetic S/o

Making him a Surprise Valentines homemade gifts

Finally meeting his online lover

S/o trying to treat their own stab wound

Javier vs Aiden

Coming over to S/os apartment for a dinner date

Autistic S/o who struggles to get a job

Finding out crush is dating his brother

Only dating him for money

S/o going on a vacation to gain Javiers attention

Foreign S/o having to suddenly return home

Darling having shit friends who use them for work

S/o whos terrified of horror movies and clings to him

Darling w/ Social anxiety

Crybaby reader

How good he is with responsible adult stuff

Corrupt official male S/o

Darlings something like robin hood

Robin hood like S/o trying to steal from him

S/o who likes to cook for him

Darling has commitment issues

Very short S/o

S/o who age regresses

Adoring darling when they Hyperfixate

Depressed S/o that has a hard time taking care of themselves

Author S/o

S/o who is constantly sewing

Leaning against him saying “love me” when Javiers busy

S/o has odd vocal tics

Comforting S/o w/ night terrors

S/o falls asleep on his lap during a meeting

Co-worker beating him to asking S/o out

s/o recently finding out they have adhd

Falling for the elder care worker taking care of his grandma

“It’s okay, I know you’re just not used to being cared for so much.”

S/O showing him matching outfits that they sewed themselves

Werecat S/o

Cuddlebug S/o

pressing their boobs against his back slightly

Pegging Javier

Chubby S/o sitting on his face

S/o with a high sex drive

squeezing him inbetween your thighs

Cockwarm HC

Kinky shit

Praise Kink

Catching him jerking to a picture of you

Poltergeist cockwarming

Mirror Kink & Sugar Daddy

Someone walking in on you / Public Sex w/ Dom male S/o

Kinks Headcannons

Foreplay Headcannons

Male S/o railing Javier over his desk

Sex Toys Javier loves the most

Sucking him off underneath his office desk

#YES I MADE A COVER IMAGE DONT LOOK TOO CLOSELY AT IT #YANDEREAFFECTIONS GOLDEN MASTERLIST #last updated 3/13/23 #javier adolfo #Javier my oc #javier x reader #javier imagine #yandere oc #yandere ocs #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere ceo #yandere masterlist #yandere lemon #yandere smut #yandere fanfiction #Last updated 4/24/23

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marketfreshfics · 2 months

Text

OC: Paisley Gallos

Basics:

Full name: Paisley November Gallos Nickname: Pais Gender: Female Species: Witch / Vampire Date of birth: December 14th, 1874 Nationality: Spanish-French, born in the Americas Blood status: Muggleborn Wand: Walnut, dragon heartstring, 11”, unyielding

Appearance

Hair colour: Dark brown / mahogany Hairstyle: Short, wavy Eye colour: Hazel Skin tone: Medium Height: 5’2” Body type: Average, slight muscle definition

Clothing style: Functionality takes priority; light-medium, but durable fabrics such as cotton and leather for ease of movement. Prefers more fitted clothing, especially when travelling or exploring outside the castle walls. Fond of worn denim; often wears her brother’s hand-me-down pairs when out of class.

Accessories:

Often carries a harmonica in her back pocket

Her father’s wristwatch, despite it always running a few minutes ahead

Other distinguishing features:

Three diagonal scars on the left side of her jaw (obtained while trying to escape from a vampire)

Two small birthmarks below her bottom lip

Personality

Traits: Intelligent, resourceful, clever, determined, crass, blunt, intuitive, curious, decisive, quick to anger, observant, goal-oriented, remorseful Likes: Early morning hikes, writing in a new notebook, solving problems, the ocean, strong coffee (with two sugar cubes), stargazing, foraging for minerals/rocks Dislikes: Perfume, wet socks, the afternoon sun, formal attire, dishonesty Hobbies: Fishing, metalsmithing (when out of school) Fears: The unknown, her own thirst (once she becomes a vampire)

MBTI: INFJ-A Zodiac: Sagittarius sun, Aquarius moon, Libra rising Temperament: Choleric Archetype: The Rebel Similar characters: Remus Lupin, Albus Dumbledore, Sam Winchester, Harry Callahan, Lisa Simpson, Han Solo, Max Mayfield, Jon Snow

Family/Friends

Father: Pierre - Muggle, Fisherman Mother: Rosalyn - Muggle, Teacher (Died in 1882 from scarlet fever) Sibling(s): Mathieu (age 19) Pet(s): Barred Owl, “Crispen” Friends: Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt, Garreth Weasley, Amit Thakkar, Natsai Onai

Magic

Boggart: Extremely thick fog, accompanied by a foghorn Patronus: Colossal squid Polyjuice: Turns crimson, tastes like spring water and copper Amortentia: Smoke, bergamot and clean, starched cotton Special abilities:

Fire-based offensive spells and charms

Non-verbal magical spells

(Once transformed into a vampire) can sometimes "absorb" a person's abilities after consuming their blood

Backstory

Born in Nova Scotia, Canada to immigrant muggle parents, Paisley grew up in a small fishing village just on the outskirts of a port city. Because of this, she spent many days on fishing vessels with her father and older brother, while her mother worked as a teacher at the schoolhouse in town. When she was eight, her mother fell gravely ill and unfortunately passed away from complications of scarlet fever. Her father, Pierre, often struggled to balance work obligations with raising Paisley and Mathieu, and more often than not her older brother was left responsible, which caused her to develop a great deal of independence.

Being from a non-magical family, Paisley's magic was a startling discovery. It revealed itself when, while arguing with her brother, she made a milk bottle spontaneously explode in frustration. The following morning, two members from the Ministry for Magic arrived, explained magical abilities to her and her family, and promptly enrolled her in the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

She was sorted into the Horned Serpent house, based on her high level of intelligence and ambitious, goal-oriented mindset.

Paisley excelled in her studies, her hunger for knowledge consistent, and while graduating from her fifth year she was recognized for her advanced magical comprehension. She was hand-selected by the Minster for Magic himself to take part in an accelerated graduate program at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, and with great excitement she transferred at the start of her sixth year. Having researched the Hogwarts houses before her arrival, she anticipated being sorted into Ravenclaw... however the mysterious rumours about the Slytherin house fostering several dark wizards in history captivated her curiosity, and thus the sorting hat placed her there instead.

Soon after arriving at Hogwarts, she was captured by a well-known criminal, who subsequently bit her and changed her into a vampire against her will. The details around this, and why she was selected specifically, are still unknown...

Academics

Best subject: DADA Favourite subject: Astrology Favourite teachers: Professor Fig, Professor Sharp Worst subject: History of Magic Least favourite subject: Divination, Theory of Magic Least favourite teacher: Binns Quidditch: N/A

As a student:

Prioritizes her studies as much as possible; she is aware of the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to study at Hogwarts and does not take it for granted.

Sometimes misses classes without explanation, particularly on sunny days.

She is always happy to help fellow classmates, however, she is wary of many. This only increases once she has been turned.

Mostly keeps to herself; has few, close friends, with whom she places a great deal of trust.

Future

Career: Researcher or Archivist Naturally, Paisley is drawn to a career path that allows her the opportunity to further her education and learn something new. Her ambitions focus on filling her brain with as much information as possible, so taking up a job as a Researcher or Archivist for the Ministry is very much in her wheelhouse.

Spouse: TBD Children: TBD

Special thanks to @hazyange1s for letting me follow their OC layout 🤍

#hogwarts legacy oc #hogwarts oc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis gaunt #amit thakkar #sebastian sallow #garreth weasley #natsai onai #the stratagem strain #oc profile #paisley gallos

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comphy-and-cozy · 2 years

Text

Note: I try to tag triggers as bet I can, but ultimately you as the reader are responsible for your own media consumption. If any of my content bothers you, please do not continue reading. If I am missing a tag, please feel free to shoot me a message. * = smut (18+ ONLY)! players I do not write for | tv/movie masterlist

ANDREI SVECHNIKOV - full masterlist here

BRADY SKJEI

Adore You (Brady Skjei x POC fem!OC) - 8.3K Freshly shipped from New York, Brady is new to the city of Raleigh and the Carolina Hurricanes. While he’s learning the city, he meets someone that just might change his life forever. Four times Brady thought he loved her, and one time he actually did.

The After Party* (Andrei Svechnikov x Reader x Brady Skjei) - 6.3K When your new fling Andrei invites you to his joint birthday party, you’re surprised to learn that it’s a past flame who shares his birthday. And surely a double birthday calls for a double celebration — even if that means that you are the gift. The After Party II* (Andrei Svechnikov x Reader x Brady Skjei) - 6.3K A year after your illicit tryst with your current fling and your ex-fling, you meet again.

Blurbs ✿Midnight Rain* ✿Picnic in the Park

BROCK BOESER

You Got What I Need (Brock Boeser x Reader) - 5.5K When Brock says something horrible in the midst of an argument, you take off and leave him alone to face the consequences of his actions. Will he be able to win you back, or are you gone forever? Chronicling the aftermath of a fight, featuring big brother Anders Lee.

Blurbs ✿A Jealous Distraction ✿Secrets ✿"Send. Pic. Of. Dog. Now."

CHRIS KREIDER

✿“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” ✿"I'm pregnant." ✿"Why would I stop when it gets me what I want?"*

CONNOR MCDAVID

Work For It* (Connor McDavid x Reader) - 4.2K After a road trip, Connor is determined to show you how much he missed you, but only if you work for it.

GABE LANDESKOG

✿Date Night at the Drive-In* ✿Blood Drive ✿Mystery Machine

JEREMY SWAYMAN

Blurbs ✿"Don't mind me, just enjoying the view." / "I won't bite, unless you're into that sort of thing."

JT COMPHER - full masterlist here

MAT BARZAL

Love It If We Made It* (Mat Barzal x OFC) - 9.3K Aurora Foster and Mat Barzal are friends. Sometimes with benefits, sometimes with unspoken feelings, but always with a little something extra. When they have the opportunity to close the cross-country gap between them, will they be able to overcome the skinny love and take their relationship to the next level?

MATT MARTIN

Chaptered Fics/Series Sugar Daddy Marty Masterlist (Matt Martin x sugar baby!Reader)

MIKKO RANTANEN

Bad for Business* (Mikko Rantanen x Reader) - 4.2K Mikko has a crush on his massage therapist.

Bad for Business II* (Mikko Rantanen x Reader) - 2.5K Mikko learns to accept that his teammates are your clients, too.

MITCH MARNER

✿“My friends get annoyed by how much I talk about you sometimes”

NOLAN PATRICK

✿“There is no way this much stupid can fit inside one person.” / “Take my jacket, it’s cold” ✿Cheek kisses

TYSON JOST

Third Time’s the Charm* (Tyson Jost x plus sized!Reader) - 11.1K Tyson Jost has been your best friend since you were kids. After a drunken hookup, you thought you’d lost him forever - that is, until he gets traded to the Minnesota Wild, conveniently the city in which you now reside. Will the former flame return when you reunite, or has the time changed everything forever?

A Night in Paris* (JT Compher x Reader x Tyson Jost) - 10.6K Anything can happen on a Friday night at the Hard Deck. When you run into some old friends in search of a night to remember, you just might end up getting exactly what you wished for. Blurbs ✿“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” / “You’re pretty.” “You’re drunk.” ✿Wedding Day ✿Jost Family Reunion ✿Disaster Strikes ✿Trade Angst ✿"It feels like torture but I don't want it to stop."* ✿Pre-Wedding Festivities

#hockey #masterlist #divider by @firefly-graphics

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fatalitysficbakery · 5 months

Text

𓆰♥︎𓆪 Confessions Of Sin. —

Selina Kyle x Black Fem!Y/n

genre: (sprinkle of) angst/fluff/SMUT.

warnings: vampire!selina, hybrid!y/n (wolf/witch), g!p (selina), degradation, stalking, slight dub-con, mating, sadism, masochism, mommy kink, slight!puppy play, intercourse, slight fingering.

synopsis: she’s been watching you.

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↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery multifandomed &&’ oc menu 𓆪.

⌫

I'd been running from fate my entire life, I didn't believe in it, thought I was destined to trek through life alone, I thrived better in the solitude, that is, until I saw her face.

Been here over a thousand years and nothing quite captivated me like she did, she was the embodiment of everything I was opposite to, she was sweeter than the sour I was accustomed to, that I so admired because within my life, I could never be described as...sweet.

But her? She gave me a damn toothache, and it was worth the cavities. I admit, it turned into a bit of an obsession, an understatement I'm sure the readers will realize soon enough.

—

I liked crimson. Red. Blood. I've never been one for sweets, I enjoyed the finer delicacies the humans found disgust in as they continued eating their rare bloody raw steaks without thinking twice, a nice glass of blood could do a body good, but I get it, I do.

I liked my blood like I liked my wine, dry, bitter, it was true but again, you'll find that I changed my tune.

Y/n Y/ln is sweet, made of sugar, spice, and all things nice so to say, with her body wrapped in visions of pink and hues of deep purple, jet black curls framing a deep brown complexion. When she spoke, I swore I could hear birds singing to her pretty little tune, but love is blind, and I was too.

I saw innocence in her eyes, she couldn't have been more out of place in a city like Gotham, with evil lurking throughout every corner, maybe I felt it my responsibility to protect her. That's a nice excuse, right?

The truth was far more sinister, though I guess it's somewhat true, her blood while enticing belongs solely to me and I needed the filth in this dreaded town to know it, so maybe I told a few more lies but you would too to protect what's yours.

And she...was mine.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

She worked in downtown Gotham in this slumlord-owned bar, as a barista and despite her sweet exterior I could tell she held her own rather well in a place with gross older gentlemen going from wall to wall, their younger dates passing disgusted glances hoping those pockets went deep and that the discomfort proved worth it.

It was only right that I keep a close eye on her, no? Besides, I needed a job, and Blue Silk had a spot open for a new dancer, it wasn't like I had no experience on the stage; It wasn't all about the pretty-eyed soft-spoken bartender, was it?

↳

Selina had just gotten off the stage, she was Catwoman to the crowd and Sel to her colleagues, slipping some shorts over her lingerie, she made her way to the floor, eyes searching until she found Y/n standing behind the bar, a smile spread across her face, her lively kind demeanor inviting to the locals that came in regularly as if their lives depended on it. She could see instantly why Y/n was a good fit for the nightclub, that smile could charm a polar bear.

It wasn't until that smile fell that Selina became worried, she sees the woman stiffen when a regular named Lenny walks in, she cocks her head, zoning in on the scene before moving in.

"Hey, Barbara's looking for ya. Said she needs your help".

Selina steps behind the bar, her eyes on the man hard in contrast to the gentleness she displayed when wrapping her arm around her shoulder and pulling her in a little closer, Y/n is more than thankful for the interruption, her smile when she sees Selina is one of utter relief.

"Bet". Is all she says, putting her dish towel down, her gaze never breaking the man's until they leave him and head into the back, her heart thunders through her chest, adrenaline on a 10, Selina hadn't heard everything that was said but she could see the anger and anxiety on her face.

"You okay"? She asked when out of earshot of the floor, letting the other barista know you were taking a moment.

"I'm good, Sel. Got a light"?

"Always".

The air was cold against your skin, light snow was falling over Gotham and neither you nor Selina, in your haste to escape the scene had remembered a coat, grabbing nothing more than a pack of cigarettes.

Y/n was still rattled, but Selina, Selina was thinking about their proximity, watching her blow her smoke out into the air, her eyes remained fixed on the woman's every move, she'd been doing it for so long now it was like muscle memory observing her from head to toe.

"Sel"?

"Yeah, Hun"?

Passing her the cigarette, she lets out a sigh the chill from the air turns her breath into its own cloud of smoke as she turns to face her friend, leaning against the pillars that were just outside the double doors of Blue Silk, "We need to look out for each other. Okay"?

"We will, Honeybun".

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

And just like that, Selina was walking her out nightly, sometimes walking her home when she needed to, and within that time she decided, she wanted more than her blood, she'd started this after a whiff of something so tantalizingly sweet, so delectable smelling that it invaded her mind for days on end. God, she needed the poor doe more than anything, and now...She was seeking all of her.

She'd learned so much about the woman she felt she'd known her for years, from something as surface level as her favorite color to the more personal like how she'd ended up in Gotham in the first place — Through an orphanage.

There was more than met the eye to Y/n Y/ln but Selina hadn't found out just how deep the mystery went until the night it all came out in throes.

↳

Y/n hadn't asked Selina to follow her out in a week due to being out sick, the night she came back the world had become a vibrant place for the vampire again and she wasn't going to waste it, not when she was so close to her end goal, so close she could practically feel the pulse of the woman's veins against her tongue.

She was absolutely drooling for it, as desperate as it sounded to admit it. She was hungry, and the only craving to satiate her appetite rested in the manicured hands of a 5'3 bartender with bright shining e/c eyes that lit up any room she damn walked into.

Selina was at the mercy of Y/n, but in due time she hoped to welcome the opposite.

"Missed ya, Kitty cat".

She was quick to wrap Sel up in her arms, that smile shone brightly up at the Cat, so sickly sweet it made her weak in the knees, why wouldn't she hug her back? Her arms wrapped tightly around her in return and she wasn't shy about nuzzling her cheek up against hers.

"Missed you too, honeybun. Walking homes been so lonely without you, sweetheart".

"We'll fix that. You're gonna kick ass out there, Kit. I missed seeing you in your element".

A smirk threatened to tug at Sel's lips thinking about the younger woman watching her on stage and possibly enjoying it, if that in any way hinted at reciprocation, she'd hold onto hope.

"You're gonna watch me? Be my good luck charm"?

"I don't know what luck I'd bring but I'm for sure gonna watch you, I always do".

When they pull away, Y/n leaves her with the lightest feathering of a kiss on her cheek. Selina feels her fangs threaten to pull, and Jesus is it so dangerous to be so close to her like this. "You always do..."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

It was around time for Y/n and Selina to leave but the bartender hadn't seen a hint of Selina after her last performance that night, even as she looked around for her; It wasn't until she'd gone out for a smoke that she appeared almost out of thin air behind the girl as silent as a mouse, she swiped the cigarette from her hand and slipped it between her own lips that curved into a grin after she exhaled and let the smoke flow freely. "You didn't think I'd forgotten, did you"?

She flinches, the hand that had been on the knife only loosening when she hears the familiarity of Selina's voice, shaking her head, biting back a matching grin at the sudden appearance.

"Maybe. You disappeared, Kit. Where'd ya go? Didn't see ya round after that last performance, you killed it by the way. As I knew you would".

Playfully she punches her shoulder, but the Cat has one thing on her mind and it's pumping through her veins like lava, she licks her lips and throws down the cigarette, stomping on it with her boot, "Fancy a ride home? I had a few loose ends to tie up".

"Mm, a ride"?

Selina holds out her hand, grin broadening when Y/n easily takes her hand; leading her over to her new wheels, a smooth black motorcycle, she holds up a backup helmet and hands it over to her.

"You ever been on one of these, love"? She asked, watching her struggle with the helmet before coming over to help her out.

"Once or twice, one of the kids I was placed in the orphanage with got his own when he was adopted, he was like a little brother to me so when I was trusted to go out on my own, we'd go out riding".

"Oh yeah? So you know I need you to hold on tight, right? Real tight, don't let go".

She was a breath away now, her breath tickling Y/n's skin as she fastened the helmet to her head, eyes locked to hers while she did it.

"I won't, I promise". Y/n mumbles, slightly blushing and happy the helmet could help hide it, but Selina had always had that allure that took her in and refused to let go, anyone could fall victim to it, man or woman, and Y/n was no exception.

Holding onto her hand gently, Selina aids her on the bike and then situates herself as well, Y/n's arms firmly wrapped around her waist. They set off just as it begins to fade into a starless night, few to no bodies on the streets.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

Mystique. She threw wrenches into the lives of many but never did I expect myself to be playing her game, I thought I had everything figured out, she was one of many necks, I'm an expert in my selections, but I missed so much, far too much.

When we got to her house she invited me in under the guise of a drink, but I had planned in advance to talk my way in, the fact that she was so willing to gaze at me all sweetly, so trusting, so naive, it was a rush. Something like a drug.

Her hand tugged at mine, and she smiled all brightly, eyes staring up at me so...enticingly. If I could've kissed her then, I would've but that would've ruined the surprise and we didn't need that, no. For this to work I needed her to trust me...fully.

"Coffee...Or wine"? Her neck craned to the side and my eyes capped it immediately, her throat like a lure and I was the fish that had taken the bait, my mouth went dry; It was then that I realized how close I really was.

We were alone. She was mine.

"Dry"?

"You're in luck, I don't enjoy dry, myself but I do keep it for guests that do".

"Social butterfly".

"You aren't the first to call me". Sending a wink my way, I was in hook line, and sinker, and her every movement sent my body into overdrive, I could feel myself pulsing beneath my jeans.

"It is how you got the necklace, no"? I asked referring to the butterfly pendant around her neck, she'd been wearing since the day we met, I could tell by the way she frequently fiddled with it that it meant a lot to her.

"Keen eye. When I finally got adopted, I was a teen, freshly 13, and a teacher from my school became my own real-life Ms. Honey from Matilda, adopted me after fostering me when I was at my worst; Nickname is from her, necklace is from her. I've been Butterfly to anyone I've ever known".

I chuckled, hanging onto every fucking word she said. Her accent was distinct, Nola dipped heat spoken like honey, I wanted to hear it moaning my name, and it would. In due time.

"Now you are Butterfly to me". I got closer, fingers grasping onto the glass she held, our fingers brushing against one another briefly.

"I've never heard it better".

She would be the death of me, I swore.

Even after our hands stopped touching, I could feel her fingers running down my arm, traveling the length while my lips wrapped around the glass, something out of my wildest fantasies if you asked me; I sat the glass down and within a moment my lips were against hers.

⌫

It was finally time, after the first kiss Selina found herself craving much more than a sample taste, she'd waited so long for this moment and she was prepared to savor it, tugging Y/n to her and pressing her lips to the woman's chest, kissing what revealed skin she could reach, and Y/n didn't resist, not with the way a soft whimper fell from her lips, parted to allow her noises to freely drip shamelessly but a whimper was just the tip of the iceberg, Selina wanted to hear far more.

"This, this is what I've wanted since I met you, at the club".

It had always been entertaining to hear prey speaking of their own crushes on her, how they fantasized, and manifested...With Y/n, however, it meant something different, something special. The woman threw her off of her game, she was so used to being in control but it all came crashing down the moment she'd gotten her hands on the one she was convinced fate wanted her to have.

"You're filled with sugar, ain't ya, Sweet thing? C'mere. On my lap".

Moving to sit on the couch, Selina has Y/n sat in her lap, her back to Sel's front, and her lips quickly find her neck just as they'd found her chest, she's damn near quivering with anticipation when she has the sweet girl in her lap at her very mercy, it all feels like it's fallen into place.

"Let's play a game, yeah? I wanna play a quick game, it's simple".

Y/n trembled underneath Sel's touch, her hands roamed her body eagerly, and her body reacted like it was made solely for the vampire and her alone, her core throbbing with a sick need for Selina to touch her. She gulps. "What's the game"?

Selina laughs, her grin akin to the Cheshire cat when she's met with curiosity instead of reluctance. Her claws gently run over the girl's stomach, goosebumps left in her wake. "It's called two truths and a lie, it's as simple as it sounds, I'm going to tell two truths and one lie. You tell me which one the lie is, okay? ...Little pup"?

Y/n's voice is timid, her eyes following Sel's every touch on her skin trying to keep her composure though it seemed for naught the moment she felt Selina's boner poking into her backside, the thought of it inside of her instead sent unwavering unadulterated arousal washing over her.

"I can".

"Good girl. You're too damned sweet, angel. You know that? Listen carefully, love. 1. I hate sweets. Disdain them even...2. Bloodthirsty creatures? They're not...as mythical as you'd believe they are And 3. I...know you better than you'd like to think, sweet girl".

All of this is said while her hands play with the hem of her shirt, allowing her time to think over all of Sel's questions thoroughly, and immediately her eyebrows furrow in confusion, trying to think through a lust filled lense was already hard enough but Y/n could swear she spotted two lies, one truth.

"I'd say...2 maybe, but 3. Are you sure? I think there's more to me than that, no"?

A chuckle leaves the Cat's lips, she leans her head back and squeezes her just a bit tighter than before. "You might be right, but you are incorrect and misguided in so many ways, may I count them as I undress you"?

Letting out her own laugh, Y/n moves Selina's hands from her waist back to the hem of her shirt, and Selina so happily counts the ways.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

Her hands worked your shirt over your head, lace pink bra underneath taking her eyesight happily, smirk on her face she speaks up but her eyes don't leave your chest. "I don't know which will scare you off first but know that this is all I've ever needed, and hear me out before you scream".

Most would've ran from those words alone, but the woman on her lap stayed firmly placed allowing Selina to undress her even while her words became ominous and vague. "We live in a world where superheroes fight villains. Go on then, frighten me".

That was exactly what she meant when she called you trouble, she groans, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, voice raspy when she speaks, "Bloodthirst is all too real, and it's...how we got here today, you see? It ties into my other, pretty little truth, and funnily enough? Also my lie. See...I thought I hated sweets".

"I thought you did too, I don't think I've seen you eat a dessert ever in my time knowing ya".

"You haven't. But you're the reason, the reason I started...craving them. I've been on this earth for over a thousand plus years and nothing has quite lured me in like the scent of your blood, my dear".

It took a minute for her words to register but when they did you almost thought you were hallucinating, it was shocking for all the most insane of reasons, her news.

"I can see you look...disturbed and for all good reasons, I'm sure. I won't confuse you with my vagueness so let's cut it straight, I'm what you humans call...a vampire. I have a bloodlust that I just found cannot be satiated by any other, any other but..."

She pauses to let you answer, humming when you do, "Me"?

"Smart girl. Gotham is filled with monstrosities, I'm sure you're aware, and I, unfortunately, am one of many of the freaks this town has to offer. I've always had a rather strict appetite, but you? You have ruined me".

There was a heat in her voice now, a darkness and danger that settled in the pit of your stomach listening to what no longer sounded like the Selina you knew, and even though you knew you should run, get out. It was like she had you pinned to her lap, under her spellbound with the hypnosis that was her voice; You weren't sure if you could move or if you'd stay compliant even if you wanted to.

"I-I ruined you? How could I eve-" Your words are cut short when her fingers hooked onto your leggings, taking them down with ease whilst whispering sinful truths into her ear.

"I'm hungry and it's all your fault, I haven't looked at another neck in 10 months, sugar and let me tell you...living off blood packs isn't sustainable for a woman like me, and that, I will have to fix and soon. And how, tell me, do you think I should fix it, Y/n"?

Your mind ran, it ran with many things but the first that falls from your lips is fueled by shock, "What do you mean 10 months, Selina"?

From your point-of-view it had only been 3 months since you'd known one another, she'd only been working there for that long so it couldn't have been ten months but the more you ran through it, the more you realized what she'd meant by two truths and a lie, and if she'd been watching you that long, truly...Was all of it true?

"Do you wanna run"?

You'd sat up by now, running over everything in your head repeatedly trying to come to terms with the fact that what seemed to be Satan, herself was in your living room, her fingers running the length of your neck and collarbone watching you put it all together.

Did you wanna run? A normal person would wanna run hell anyone in their right mind would be calling the cops, right now yet you were still there sitting in her lap, watching her hands run over your skin, her fingers now playing with the fabric of your lace pink thong.

"Do you wanna play two truths and a lie, Selina"?

If Sel had a heart it would probably be beating out of its chest right now, how could this innocent, pure little thing be so close to death itself and not completely freak out? "Lay it on me".

Y/n stands up, Selina's eyes following after you when you do, slight surprise on her face as you, instead, take down the pink thong on your own, your eyes dancing with mischief, you speak too calmly for a woman standing in front of the undead who'd apparently been stalking her for longer than they'd even known each other.

"1. I knew that you weren't human...2. I hate all things bitter, sour. And 3. I, myself, ... am not human".

You reveled in the way Selina's eyes widened, how her shock turned into intrigue thinking over your words and making her final decisions before she pulled you in closer by the thighs, her chin resting on your legs, sage green eyes staring up into your e/c ones.

"Tell me a story, mama. I wanna hear it all from those gorgeous lips of yours, and don't leave a thing out, ight"?

Your breath hitches at her words, lips parted but not a peep comes out. 'Adorable', Selina thinks, pulling you back onto her lap and spreading your legs effortlessly, her head dipping down to whisper into your ear. "Ready, set..."

Her fingers move to toy with your clit, a dangerous, sadistic smile spread ear to ear, finally getting what she wanted, and God was it worth the wait. Her cock twitches in her pants, and she's glad she has a semblance of self-control, she just really needs to hear every little thing Y/n says, she finds your words...fascinating. And maybe, maybe she wanted to see your squirming and moaning in her lap, dripping from her fingers dipped into your sweetness all by themselves.

Struggling to get your words out.

"Witches blood. My family's one of the oldes- Selina... I-I'm also half-wolf, I could smell it on you from the moment we met".

"Wolf's blood... and witch? It must be why you smell so damned sweet, a hybrid. I don't know how I didn't peg it sooner". Selina grunts into your ear, her hips involuntarily bucking up against the wolf, now that she knows, she's aware she has something more special than originally thought. she takes a moment to think before dipping her fingers inside your cunt, she knew she couldn't wait too long, she had too much desire building within her own stomach.

"If I were a stronger woman, I'd have you trembling and squirting on my lap before I even thought about fucking you but when it's you..."

Pulling her fingers from your pussy, she puts the fingers in her mouth, fangs popping out when she gets even the slightest taste of your essence on her tongue. "My control— It's evaporated into nothingness so here's what I'm gonna do".

She stands you back up, but this time she follows after you, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway to your own room as well as you yourself could find it.

"I don't want to compel you but I could make it easier on you when I feed. Now is that what you want, Darlin"? When you turn back around, she's lowering her pants, and underwear revealing 7 inches, circumcised and a caramel brown, it's something that leaves Y/n's mouth-watering. She shouldn't want this but she does, and it's intense.

"No".

That was exactly what Selina wanted to hear, she needed to know in her heart of hearts that you wanted this just as much as she did, and even if she had the power to bring you to your knees, herself? She wanted it to be real, fuck this wasn't like her at all but her cock wouldn't let her hold back any longer.

"And you know what that means, princess"? Sitting on the bed, she brings you over to her, stood between her legs, she turns you to face the door, groaning quietly at how beautiful you looked up close and personal, better than any invention of you her fantasies could create. "Spread your legs and talk to me".

You're snapped from autopilot, spreading your legs only to be grabbed swiftly into her lap, and this time she keeps your legs open and breathes into your ear, "I said...talk to me".

Taking her length in her hand, she guides her cock between your slit, collecting your slick and pulling an audible shudder from you as you finally begin to talk, "I-it'll hurt. I know, but I don't...I want it to".

Selina grunts. She grunts, and suddenly her cock is bottomed out and sunk deeply into your cunt, the only things heard are the sounds of the effect she has on you, from the squelching between your thighs when she sinks as deeply as she can to the way you let out the cutest little yelp she'd ever heard, tugging your hair back, she exposes your neck to her.

"It will hurt, but you don't care. You don't even care. Fucking masochist, look at yourself".

Scooting to the end of the bed, a hand firmly around your waist and the other forcing your eyes to the full-length mirror in the corner of your room not allowing you to look away, and the sight is as erotic as Selina made it out to be; You can see her slowly pumping into you, your lips parting to allow soft moans to escape, eyes struggling not to roll back. And when you look up to her, she's already staring back at you, lips curved into a shit-eating grin still leaning down so she could whisper into your ear. "You see that, hun? You're so pretty, baby but my god...You're a damned whore".

Her words though degrading are said with the care you'd provide a wounded animal with, they are meant to lull, to tame, and you were so sick with arousal that you didn't even notice you'd fallen right into her trap; She wasn't about to let you leave.

"You're gonna look at yourself and bounce on my cock, got it"?

Without needing anything more said, you'd been broken out of your stupor and ready to obey her every whim, your hands are braced on the bed in front of you, eyes to the mirror, and back arched; Selina, pressed against the headboard sitting with eyes low and a hand resting on your hips, she watches the first roll with an entranced intrigue, your hair still wove around her fingers, she lets her fangs graze your neck, reveling in the way you slightly flinch but never stop moving.

"Count down from 3..."

Her claw digs into the hip she holds, pricking the skin beneath and drawing your blood with a scent so dizzying she forgets her own words, and with a hiss, she sinks her fangs into your neck.

"T-THREE"! Y/n screams out, pain melding with pleasure, your cunt clenches tightly around her, ensnaring her into a chokehold, the light behind your eyes bright and blinding you feel yourself growing ravenous as the room fills with your collective pleasure and Selina helps you along with the thrusting when she realizes how distracted and clouded you are with her feeding from you.

She doesn't let up, she speeds up her pumps, pulling herself back from your neck, your ass pressed to her pubic bone, she savors the way the blood looks against your complexion, licking you clean, her hands move from your hair and underneath your chin, tilting it up slightly. Raising your leg for better access, she angles her hips deeper inside you, drinking in the way you moan her name. "I knew it, shit, I knew it...so. damn. sweet".

"S-sel, I need a little more, I need—" Your head is on fire, you didn't even notice that it wasn't only the lack of blood clouding your judgment, but something more, Selina's pheromones carried a floral scent to it that sent you into a world of your own, enhanced the already natural chemistry the two of you already had.

"Ah, say please, pretty thing. Mommy can make it all better".

Her voice is like a siren's song, a snake charmer. All you can do is succumb to her efforts, your cunt soaking the bed and in kind, Selina's stomach and thighs, as well as your own; You feel her throb inside of you, swelling at your words. "Please...please mommy".

She couldn't deny that, now could she?

This time, her eyes lock in on her target, the space between your shoulder and the nape of your neck, the final nail in the coffin of your lovestory, then it would all be set in stone. "Mm, since you asked so nicely".

"Cum. for. Mommy".

Selina growls into your ear, pushing herself to the hilt and sinking her fangs into your neck again, this time harder than she had before, on a mission to make you hers for good. Your body quivers in response to her power, moans loud yet strained, she can feel the moment you let go; Your legs wrap around her torso, and your cunt turns into solitary confinement, keeping her in an inescapable hold, hole twitching around her.

She could cum at that alone but it takes a few more rough pumps, her body leaned over yours, she holds her wrist up to your lips and compels you to bite. "It won't hurt me, I promise".

And so you listen, not as though you had much of a choice; It's when the black de-oxygenated liquid spills onto your tongue that she finally climaxes, rope after rope flooding your womb whilst you feed from each other shamelessly, heads filled with only thoughts of sin.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

She watches over her sleeping figure, a crimson-splattered soft grin spread across her face, she watches Y/n's mate mark swell and glow as it all settles down, and leans down to whisper in her ear.

"The midnight won't be so bad, not with you here, sweet deer".

All she gets in response is all she needs, Y/n turns in her arms and wraps herself up in Selina's grasp, mumbling incoherently; she presses a kiss to Selina's shoulder.

She falls into a dreamless sleep.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

A/N: let's call this your birthday fic, love you more than the moon loves the sun, happy 21st grandpa bear~ <33 @u4iuh

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thomase1 · 1 year

Text

My raven

Loki x fem!reader (OC)

This story is part of the Winter Warmers collection.

It is winter at the Avengers compount, which mean a lot of preperation. Will you win over a certain god to love, or at least not mind, christmas?

Warnings: Tiny bit of anxiousness and jealousy. Alcohol consumption. Overall just fluffy wholesome goodness.

Word count: ~3.500

Thank you @huntress-artemiss for helping me with this! 💙

It is Christmas, which means everybody was busy decorating every last nook and cranny of the compound.

You have long grown tired of all the Caucasian firs you've had to make. Being a woodland fairy in the avengers compound this time of year had its downsides it seems. Finally done, you went to help the others with the food and fool around a bit.

Its going to be a long day, but you love it. Everybody helps, everybody has fun and the food is amazing. When all the turkeys are finally roasting in the oven, the side dishes are simmering and the dessert is resting in the fridge, you go to the communal room with Wanda and Thor.

After all that hard work, a classic Christmas movie is needed. Debating which film to play, the sofas get fuller and fuller. Even Pepper, Tony and Morgan joined in, which means it has to be fit for a 6 year old.

The coffee table is filled with adorable cookies the little Stark has decorated. Alcohol free egg nog and apple cider standing alongside pies and crumbles. It is a feast for any sweet tooth, which reminds you, where the hell is Loki?

"Thor, where's your brother?", you ask the god sitting on the other end.

"My best guess is his quarters, he is not one to enjoy socializing to this extent, as you probably know by now.", he shakes his head sadly.

"We'll see about that.", you say and dash through the hallways.

At his door you knock, not getting an answer, "Loki, come on, join us in the living room! I promise it will be fun." You know him well enough to know, he is sitting at his desk, trying to ignore you. He's a stubborn god, but you are a stubborn fairy with good intentions.

"Come on, we are watching a movie together, its going to be fun!", you talk to the door of which you know every knothole by now. His hard shell might have ceased, but his bullheadedness had not. You always have to force him out of his room, only for him to enjoy whatever activity it was you forced him to.

"There are snacks. Cookies, Apple crumb-", you stop as the door gets ripped open. "Lets go.", he nods.

Unbelievable.

You understand that there is no candy on Asgard and that its only natural for him to get excited for it. But Thor and him go feral over sweets, nobody ever dared to but you think if somebody took away their sugar, they would grow a little... murderous.

"Better hurry, Thor is already there.", you tell him and start to quick walk.

"Why did you not start with that! Move it!", he commands, beginning to jog.

When everybody was seated and had their mountain of food on their plate, you finally decided on a movie. The Grinch.

Its a classic, plus Morgan and the Asgardians don't know it yet, it had to be done. It did not fail to make each and everyone laugh, conveniently explaining some of the Christmas traditions along the way. It is Loki's first Christmas, which is why he has been pestering you with questions, even if the result was him ridiculing earths beloved Christmas traditions. You love to explain it to him, but not at 6 in the morning. Any time spent with him is a blessing to your heart, but to talk to somebody that finds this whole holiday stupid, at 6am and getting asked questions about said holiday... yea, not your favorite activity.

Despite his resemblance to the Grinch, demeanor wise, you have been crushing over him since you laid eyes on him. He is just too charming and the first person to withstand your wit. Not to mention he looks exactly like you always envisioned your one true love to look like, your mother did always promise you, it was the same for her. Apparently it is a common thing amongst your kind.

"Is it strange that I feel a sort of sympathy for that fictional being?", he whispers at the flashback scene from the Grinch's childhood. Loki insisted to sit between Thor and you.

"Do you feel sympathy for characters in books?", you ask back. He nods solemnly.

"There you have your answer. Everybody feels for him. Its how it was intended, everybody loves an outlaw.", you smile at him, your words carrying a double meaning. He heard it too but thought it sure must be a misunderstanding.

"Daddy why were they so mean to him?", Morgan asks Tony.

"People aren't always nice sweetie.", Tony answers her with a sad smile. Loki, too, smiles sadly at their chat, so you lay a hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze.

The movie get together was spent laughing at the movie and eating as much food you could before getting sick. When it was over, most of the others went back to cooking and decorating.

"I wanna go outside!", Morgan whines, tugging at Peppers sleeve.

"Ask somebody else. I have to help with the food and daddy needs to help put up the lights.", she tells her, a gentle hand stroking her daughters hair.

"Uncle Steeeeve, do you want to go outside with meee?", she storms towards the captain, who is holding a tray full of salads and side dishes.

"Oh I'm sorry but I am busy. Why don't you ask aunt Fee or Wan?", he nods toward you two.

"Yea, come on, we wanted to go out anyway.", Wanda holds out her hand. You did not, you two had planned to lounge on the sofa, but you cant deny Morgan. She runs towards you, happy giggles leaving her.

"Where are your winter clothes?", you ask her.

"Oh. Home.", she sinks her head sadly.

"Allow me.", Loki stands up and with a click of his wrist, the three of you wear thick winter coats, beanies and gloves. Loki remains in his sweater.

"Thank you. Looks like we can go outside now.", you smile at Morgan who nods enthusiastically.

Outside, Morgan got her sledge and Loki conjured Wanda and you one too. Morgan squeals with happiness while she goes down the steep snow covered hill, Wanda standing at the bottom to catch her. Then, Wan and you decided to race, which ended in a crash.

You lost control because of a stone, resulting in you, flying through the air. Trying to regain control, you thrashed around, losing a boot in the process. Said boot hit Wanda in the head, making her crash into a mountain of snow at the side. Nobody was hurt but Loki is laughing at you, already doubled over with a hand clutching his stomach, "You really knocked her and yourself out of the race!", he huffs between fits of laughter.

Wanda and you look at each other, communicating silently, even Morgan understood the instructions. Secretly, the three of you made an artillery of snow balls, a small mount of spheres at your feet.

"Now!", you shout.

The fire opens, Loki getting hit in the face repeatedly until he puts his wall of defense up, snowballs bouncing off the green barrier.

"Hey! Using magic isn't fair!", Morgan pouts. Loki smirks devilishly at her and lowers his defense, snowballs flying towards you now.

"Oh fudge-", you say, realizing your out of ammo, unable to retaliate.

"Son of a gun!", Wanda grunts, a snowball hitting the back of her head.

"We yield!", you shout, Morgan hiding behind a tree and Wanda being hit again and again. The attack stops and you hear him laugh sinister, "Smart choice.".

"What is the child doing now?", Loki interrupts your chatter, looking behind Wanda.

You turn around, "Oh, she is making a snowman.".

"A what?", Loki tilts his head, utterly confused.

"A snowman. You make two or three big balls of snow, stack them and create your snowman.", you smile at him.

"Usually has a carrot as nose and sticks as arms.", Wanda adds.

"How utterly stupid.", Loki rolls his eyes.

You pose in mock offense, "How very dare you? It is a beloved tradition on this planet. Come on Wanda, lets make an army!".

"I'll get some carrots!", Wanda runs inside.

She returned shortly after, carrots in one hand and various items in the other. Morgan happily indulged in the use of Wanda's collected items, her snowwoman, as she insisted, now wearing purple gloves on her stick arms and having small red buttons aligned in a smile. The two of you just made your first one and he is beautiful, you named him Edward.

"What is all the fuss about? These are horribly ugly creations. I don't see why you mortals obsess over them so much.", he knits his brows, circling the snowman Wanda and you built.

"Hey! That is our son, apologize to him right now!", Wanda pouts in mock offense.

"He is our pride and joy. Look as him! He's so cute!", you stride towards the snowman and straighten the multi color striped scarf you put around him.

"Cute? It has a crooked carrot as nose and pebbles as eyes, I fail to see what it is that is so cute about that.", he looks it up and down as if it is mocking him.

"You wouldn't know beauty if it was hitting you in the face!", Wanda tells him outraged.

'Oh but I do', he thinks to himself, his eyes lingering on you for a second, with you blithely unaware.

☃️

An army of snowmen and women later, you three girls eye up your work proudly, Loki shaking his head in disbelief.

"I'm cold.", Morgan whimpers.

"Lets get you inside.", you lead her towards the door, the others following.

An hour later, dusk crept over the snow covered park of the compound, a sign its time to eat. All of you sat together at the long table, joining today was only a suggestion for the teammates not living here, but almost everybody came along. It was a pleasant surprise.

The dinner was nice, friendly chatter flowing alongside festive beverages. Morgan and the kids of shield agents, who were welcome to join too, were done eating pretty quickly, running around playing around the compound when boredom hit them. The Christmas dinner went on for hours, some guests stuffing themselves fuller than the turkeys already devoured. When it came to a final stop, the compound was calmer again, people leaving to make it home before midnight and the kids sound asleep on the sofas, all tired out. Anybody conscious and still able to move helped clean up.

The get together shifted to the living room, in which the biggest fir you've ever made stands proudly at over 15 feet, almost reaching the ceiling. People are dancing, others talking and a few indulged into some drinking at Tony's 'mini' bar. Its not mini, its the size of a normal bar you'd see inside a club, a wide variety of booze displayed on the shelves.

And as everybody else was having fun, your mind races with worry. Your nerves stretched like a wire rope about Loki's gift, anxious you might have overstepped with how personal it is.

Luckily Steve pulled you out of your thoughts, asking you to dance with him. His baby blues outed him about being in deep thought as well. You accepted the unexpected request of his, "I know that look, you want to ask me something, don't you?"

He set a hand to your waist, making you lay a hand an his upper arm. Letting out a deep sigh he nodded, "Yea, I do. I need your help- or more like your advice.".

You tilt your head at him, "Sure, go on.".

☃️

Loki has had a secret crush on you for a few moths now but is too stubborn to admit it, mostly to himself. He tells himself it is just confusion, that he has not had a partner in too long and that he cant be drawn to a mere mortal fairy. He notices himself growing progressively jealous when you are around the other teammates though. Particularly towards captain Rogers, who asked you to dance, taking you away from the spot on the sofa next to him. The insufferable patriot has a hand on your waist, you giggling uncontrollably.

It becomes increasingly obvious that it is not confusion that has him drawn to you, it is your persona. How you always have a witty comeback to whatever comment he made. How you give him suggestion regarding books from Midgard; none of which he disliked, you always give him the very best suggestions. One of your recommendations became his new favorite actually. The way you teach him about this planets culture, like Christmas, desperately trying to make him feel at home. Like he belongs. Even when all he does is complain and mock your planets entire existence.

The way your laugh fills the room, a sweet symphony, making his heart swell. The only thing dampening the mood is when it is not him that makes you sing your song, but another man, like now. Which drew him to another realization.

One thing he does like about Christmas so far: mulled wine. He downed about 6 mugs of it already, feeling the alcoholic beverage warm him up from the inside out. A strange thing for the frost giant to feel.

30 minutes and another 5 mulled wines later, you sit down on the sofa next to him.

Strangely enough, he feels a little tipsy, never had that happened from Midgardian beverages, up to now.

"Is it growing on you?", you ask Loki, who's got a bit of color to his cheek. No wonder, you saw how he kept downing that mulled wine. It is a secret, but Thor put in a little Asgardian mead, not a lot, but enough for normal humans to get drunk after 3 to 5 mugs of the drink.

"This mulled wine is rather nice, my favorite thing about this whole holiday so far.", he enthuses.

"I'm glad to hear that you at least enjoy something. There are still a few things you have yet to experience, maybe you will like one of them too.", you smile softly.

"What else is there to experience, I was planning on retreating to my chambers soon."

You look at him a little hurt. You really though he would just enjoy himself this time and not count the minutes until he can leave. But apparently you thought wrong.

"Oh come on! There is one thing you will love, I bet you will! Just another hour, you can leave after midnight.", you plea. You really tried your best with your gift and you'd hate if he left before receiving it.

"Fee, I'm just really tired.", he sighs.

You put on your puppy dog eyes, "Pleeaaase! I have a surprise for you, you cant leave now! Just one more hour!".

He sinks his head back into the sofa, closing his eyes with a deep exhale, "Fine. But I will leave at midnight!".

You squeal with happiness and hurriedly nod, "Yes, you wont regret it, I promise!". He chuckles at your exuberance and makes himself comfortable again. A little later, Tony announced that it is time for gift giving.

"What?! Nobody told me about this, I don't have anything to give!", Loki frowns.

You pat his shoulder, "Its alright, nobody except me thought you would even be here. That is enough of a gift.".

Everybody went back to their rooms to retrieve their presents. As everybody came back, the room erupted in chatter and sounds of joy. You got a lot of great gifts and yours were receiving as much joy.

Then it was time to hand Loki his gift. You turned to him and hand him the small, beautifully wrapped, box with a smile.

Growing more and more anxious about his reaction as he opens it. Will he like it? Thor told you he would love it, but does he know his brother well enough? Oh god, what if he hates it?

"Ophelia, this is beautiful.", he gasps, extracting you from your internal conflict.

Your heart leaps of joy, he likes it. You look at him and see him examine the orb, small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. You made it yourself, it is golden with a gorgeous labradorite which you put all your love and energy into. That stone just reminded you of Loki, chipped and scarred, but unbelievably beautiful. He has not yet realized it is far better than that though.

Labradorite; source google images

"Look at its side, see that little latch? Open it.", you guide him to find the hidden latch. He opens it and you see tears well up in his eyes.

The top of it is covered in green gem stones, the main part however is the picture of Frigga on the bottom of it. The words 'I love you my little raven' engraved on the glass dome covering her picture. You went to Thor for advice and he told you that was what Frigga called Loki as a child. He reminded her of a raven, curious, mischievous, playful and very intelligent. His raven black hair another obvious afflatus.

You know how much he loves her and how much his last words he ever spoke to her haunt him. How it breaks his heart he could not attend her funeral.

"I don't know what to say. Nobody has ever given me anything this beautiful. This thoughtful.", his voice is shaking, a tear going astray.

"I'm glad you like it, Thor helped me with the quote. Merry Christmas Loki.", you lean forward and wipe his cheek. He pulls you into a sudden hug which you happily return.

"Merry Christmas Ophelia. You will get the best present of your life next Christmas, I promise it.", he mumbles in the crook of your neck.

The two of you part and dumbly smile at each other; butterflies throwing their own celebration in your stomach. The way his eyes sparkle ever since he got your gift fills you with pride.

And the way his cheeks still hold a slight pink hue to them makes you want to kiss him. Oh what are you saying, you always want to kiss him. But you don't want to ruin the friendship which took such a long time to built.

Distracting yourself, you lay a hand over his, covering the orb. Using your abilities, you shrink the orb and make a matching golden chain. "So you can have it with you at all times.", you take your hand off and he surveys your work.

"Thank you darling.", he smiles and pulls the wide chain over his head. Your heart skips a beat at the pet name, you love when he calls you darling.

His necklace suits him well, the orb hanging just above his sternum.

You two jolt at the sudden increase of volume in the room, looking around for the reason. You spot it first, Steve pulled out the mistletoe over Nat and his head, like you suggested. You even grew it for him.

He asked you what to do, so you gave him a lot of joke ideas but a few genuine ones too. He picked the obvious classic; holding a mistletoe over your crush and yourself. "Mission successful.", you giggle as they kiss, the room erupting into cheers and whistles.

"Finally!" being thrown at them by the OG 5, Clint excluded since he is home with his family.

"What is happening?", Loki asks totally confused by this strange behavior and your words.

"Its a mistletoe. It is an old tradition. You must kiss if you stand under it. I gave Steve the tip.", you explain to him.

His lips curl up, "I see. So that is what you two were talking about.".

He was watching you two? You blush and clear your throat, "Yes. He asked me how to finally kiss Natasha. I made the mistletoe for him since we both liked that idea the best.". He nods, "I see.".

Shortly after, he excused himself for the bathroom, so you talked to some of the others.

Loki joined you and the others, leaning at your arm, so you looked at him questioning. Your eyes meet his expecting gaze, lips smiling at you warmly.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!", chant the others suddenly.

Which is why you realize, he is holding the mistletoe over you two. Your heart races, a blush creeping up your neck. He wants to kiss you too, oh my god. You turn slightly and stand on your tippy toes, placing a hand on his shoulder. You gently place your lips on his, eyes fluttering closed. He kisses you back, a hand cupping your cheek, pulling you closer. His lips are so soft and he tastes divine. He tastes even better than you expected, sweet and like mulled wine. Everything gets warm and fuzzy, there is only him and you, everything else losing its importance. Even oxygen. Your hand slides to cup the back of his head, fingers meeting his soft curls.

"Ok. That's enough now, there are kids present!", Tony interrupts. You two giggle in the kiss and break apart, hot breaths fanning your cheek.

Smiling dumbly at him, you speak up, "You stayed past midnight.".

"I did. Only for you my love."

With that, you found a pet name you love even more and the god you love to call you by it.

☃️

Fun fact;

Fee is the nickname for Ophelia, Fee means fairy in german, which is why i choose that nickname. Fe means fairy in norwegian as well, so, Loki loves that nickname. It just makes sense and is cute.

Tagging: @peaches1958 @slytherclaw1227 @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @mischief2sarawr @michelleleewise @holdmytesseract @fictional-hooman @holymultiplefandomsbatman @mochie85 @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @vbecker10 @xorpsbane @alexakeyloveloki @lovelysizzlingbluebird @muddyorbs @november-rayne @sarahscribbles @maple-seed @simplyholl @gigglingtigger @loopsisloops @theaudacitytowrite @wheredafandomat @lady-rose-moon @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @dangertoozmanykids101 @animnerd @joyful-enchantress @mygfloki @lokiprompts @springdandelixn

#loki god of mischief #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki fluff #loki oneshot #winter warmers collection

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