#I'm honestly at a loss for words I don't know what to say | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hanjsquokka · 2 months

Text

Caramel Macchiato - [ Kim Seungmin ]

🩷 SYNOPSIS : Seungmin hated the morning shift. He hated the way some people thought they could say whatever they wanted to him just because he wasn't able to hand them their scalding hot drink quick enough. You were an enigma of sorts the second he saw you walk in. And suddenly, the six hours he spent every day were too short.

GENRE : fluff, strangers to potential lovers

PAIRING : barista!seungmin × f!barista!reader

CONTENT WARNING : none

WORD COUNT : 2.5K

AUTHOR'S NOTE : I honestly had a lot of fun writing this even though I'm not that satisfied with the ending. The title is inspired by BTS' song Coffee, which is one of my favorites (yes, I wrote it with Jungkook's voice in mind). Hope you enjoy <3 (part of valentines collab with @stayconnecteed )

The bristly cloth of a rag scratched his palms as Seungmin wiped down the counter. The morning rush died down, leaving behind a quiet lull in the coffee shop he was working in. He looked up at the clock. Five more hours until his shift ended. It had been nearly a week since the manager of the shop asked him to work the morning shift rather than the evening one because they were down an employee. Seungmin didn't want to. He really didn't. He hoped the blank stare would send a clear message — please go find someone else — but the man simply didn't understand that. Since the money for his vocal lessons were coming from the very paycheck the manager said he'd bump up, Seungmin reluctantly agreed.

The morning rush hour was a living nightmare. Annoyed and moody adults trying to get their daily dose of caffeine before they headed to their jobs they willingly applied to with a sour face, barking at whoever talked back to them until they've had a shot of expresso. Then they would get mad when he didn't make their coffee fast enough. He'd nearly bit his tongue off trying to hold back a sharp reply that would easily get him in trouble. Instead, he swallowed back the sentences and continued doing his work, trying his best to ignore them.

Seungmin didn't understand why those people were like that. Obviously he'd give them what they ordered for. Handling hot, steaming coffee was difficult. And even with two people on deck, the coffee shop was located in mid downtown — of course there would be a lot of people rushing in.

He was honestly about to give up and beg the manager to give him the evening shift instead, but that was when you walked into the shop. Wearing the same beige shirt with the coffee shop's logo printed onto the pocket. You greeted the manager with a bright smile, asking him how he was. You disappeared into the locker room beside the kitchen and came back with a brown apron in hand.

“Oh, hi?” You said as you approached Seungmin, a puzzled expression forming on your face. He mirrored the same, because who were you? And why did his heart stutter as you drew closer to him?

“Y/n, he's Seungmin. He's not new, don't worry. He used to be on the evening shift.” The manager told you and went into the kitchen, presumably to speak with the guy in there about how they ran out of croissants.

You looked relieved when the man told you Seungmin wasn't new. “Ah, sorry. I've had exams the whole week. I didn't know you were dealing with this alone.” You chuckled. “I apologize.”

Seungmin, for the first time in his life, found himself starstruck. Utterly starstruck by the person in front of him. His words betrayed him, so he simply nodded and turned away to clean the expresso machine before he could embarrass himself more.

He was dumbfounded. Because when had he ever been at a loss of words like that? The answer was never. He was witty and always had a snark reply waiting on the tip of his tongue when his friends made a joke.

It was just the two of you, working in silence. The other guy (was it Jeno?) had gone out to run an errand. There weren't that many customers, just the occasional one whom you greeted like they were old friends. You easily struck up a conversation with the person in front of you. It was like Seungmin was witnessing witchcraft. Not only were you able to keep a smile on the customer's face but you were making whatever they needed in the blink of an eye and handed it to them, telling them to come by again soon. He made awkward eye contact with you every now and then, but he still hadn't managed to say a word.

The next day, you were there before him, looking far too optimistic for someone to be at seven in the morning. For some reason, that didn't irk Seungmin as much as other people did. He wasn't against positivity and happiness, but he expressed those emotions in different ways. Ways other people didn't like. While they spread happiness in smiles and good vibes, engulfing their close ones in lingering hugs, he would add an extra pump of chocolate in their drink and made sure the latte art looked extra nice. You belonged to the former category. He could tell as the usual bustle of people walked in. You handled them all with such ease, he had to mentally slap himself to get back to his work and stop staring at you.

The two of you just clicked, working in harmony seamlessly without uttering a single word, despite never formally introducing yourselves to each other. The mornings started to become a thing Seungmin looked forward to. The six hour shift seemed too less. Every day he woke up, a skip in his step because of the fact that he could see you. Not that he like liked you or anything. His feelings were a whirlwind or chaos ever since you stepped foot into his life. His usually self poofed away, leaving behind a shy boy who could barely look you in the eye.

Although he was slightly jealous of your outgoing personality, he found it endearing the longer he worked with you. You remembered every little detail about everyone — from a man's promotion to a school kid's test grades. And you weren't doing it on purpose. You genuinely liked knowing about people and tried to change their day for the better. He heard you tell Jeno that you would like to be the reason someone smiled at least once that day.

Seungmin didn't speak with you directly, but your attitude was bringing a change in him too. His friends were the first to notice the change in him when they dropped by the coffee shop one day. Seungmin happened to be serving another customer and he looked happy instead of his regular blank expression. It was a nice change. When asked about it, he simply glanced in your direction, that infectious smile plastered all over your face as you placed fresh brownies in the showcase. You found joy in the most miniscule things, it was bewildering to him but he found it rather cute.

Hyunjin noticed his friend's gaze on you and for once, he didn't interrupt or tease him. A soft smile on his face, he brought the cup of coffee to his lips, watching the way Seungmin was looking at you. He wasn't a fool to see that his friend had much more than platonic colleague feeling towards you, whether he understood it himself or not.

The morning shift was starting to be somewhat productive. Once the majority of the people left as soon as the clock struck eight thirty, the place was empty except for the occasional one or two people. He had time to do whatever he wanted. Sometimes he cleaned down the tables and restocked the showcases. Other times, he would study. His daily vocal lessons were taking a toll on him. Not that he would ever quit. But he did have his moments of stress.

A ceramic mug was placed in front of him with whipped cream and caramel syrup piled on top of it. He turned away from the papers for his vocal lessons he'd been hunched over and looked at you. There was no customer in the shop, so you definitely weren't mistaken when you placed it in front of him. Besides, he was sitting behind the counter next to the cash register.

“Caramel Macchiato. Think of it as an apology —” Apology? — “if I managed to upset you in some way, I know I can be a bit too much —”

“I'm not mad at you?” That came out as a question. Not the tone Seungmin was hoping for, but he decided to go with the flow. “What made you think that?” Another dumb question. He'd been borderline ignoring you for the past week. Obviously you'd think you'd done something to upset him which in fact the complete opposite. “Nevermind, I can see why you'd think that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, turning around in the bar stool so he was facing you properly. “I'm sorry. I — uh, I'm Seungmin.”

“Y/n.” Your mood brightened up once he said that he wasn't mad at you. “You can keep the latte though. That one is my specialty.” You smiled, your eyes drifting from his face to the mug, eagerly waiting for him to try some. Which he did. It was… perfect. Not too sweet and the caramel didn't come on too strong. He used his thumb to wipe off the excess whipped cream over his mouth, a satisfactory nod following which made you beam. “Is it good?”

“Very.” Your bright smile was making him crack a small grin as well.

“You should start smiling more.” You pointed out, wiping your hands on the towel tucked in your apron pocket. “It suits you.”

The days that followed were filled with conversations between the two of you, although you were the one doing most of the talking. He didn't mind. He found a strange sense of happiness in seeing you ramble on and on about your cat or about the good grade you got on the test you were stressing about. He found himself wanting to know more and more about you. To see you more than the stupid six hour shift.

The insecure part of his mind told him that the smiles you gave him were the same as the ones you gave everyone else. It was just your nature. Being a living, breathing Pinkie Pie — making a change in an another person's day your life's sole mission. You were only talking to him because Jeno usually helped in the kitchen. Seungmin was just… the same as everybody else.

He didn't want to be everybody else.

You should smile more. It suits you.

Your words rang in his head day and night. Were you being nice or did you genuinely mean that? But you always meant whatever you said. You weren't afraid to hide your true thoughts, although you often sugar-coated your words so you wouldn't hurt anyone's feelings.

There was a new thought arising inside him that he tried to play off. Seungmin turned to his right, watching you make someone's drink. The morning rays of sun made your skin look golden, highlighting the pink tint of the lip gloss you applied that morning.

How could someone be so effortlessly breathtaking when making a cappuccino?

He wasn't foreign to the feeling of love, but you were something else entirely. You gave him a smile whenever you met his eyes, an action that made his cheeks turn pink as he looked away.

“Something on your mind?” You asked as you took a donut out of the showcase.

“No…” He shook his head. “Why do you ask?”

“You've been piling a little too much whipped cream onto that latte.” His eyes widened when he looked at the cup in front of him, a mountain of whipped cream sitting on top. His ears turned red when you chuckled. All the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop canceled out and it was only the sound of your laughter and the thumping of his heart in his chest that rang in his ears. He liked it. He liked hearing you laugh. He liked being the reason of your happiness.

He liked you.

That was a strong revelation. Normally, he'd let those thoughts mull over in his head for a while, but not this time. An idea formed in his head and he began to put his plan into action. He grabbed a cup and started making a latte.

“I do have something on my mind.” He said a while later, when you were sitting idly on your phone.

“What is it?” You asked, putting your phone down to give him your full attention. Your curious face made him hesitate for a moment. He took off the baseball cap he was wearing and ran his finger through his brown hair before focusing on you again.

“You.”

“Me?”

He swallowed. Seungmin picked up the drink he'd been trying to perfect and put it in front of you. He was scared. Your once beaming expression and turned into furrowed brows and an emotion he couldn't gage.

“Caramel Macchiato?”

“Jeno helped.”

A wide, toothy grin broke onto your face. “And here I thought I annoyed you.”

“The only thing that's annoying me is that you aren't trying my coffee.” He tried to act annoyed, but he wasn't able to play down the joy he was feeling.

You laughed, taking a big gulp from the ceramic mug. “Not bad.” You gave an appreciative nod. “I could teach you though.”

“Oh yeah?” Seungmin stepped closer.

“Yeah. Consider it a date.”

“It's a date now?” It was a rhetorical question, he knew that. A bubbling feeling arose in him when you stood up and pressed a kiss on his cheek. He could smell the caramel on you as you lingered close to him for a second before pulling back. He couldn't hold back the happy grin this time, letting it take over as he looked into your eyes. “I want to take you out on a proper date.” His hands found yours, holding them with utmost care, thumbs brushing over your knuckles.

“Well I would hope so. I do have better clothes than this uniform.” He chuckled. “And I want to see more of that smile.” You were definitely something different.

©hanjsquokka | copying, translating or republishing my work is strictly prohibited

#skz #stray kids #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz scenarios #kim seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin #seungmin fluff #kim seungmin x reader #( 🎤 ⸻ my works / kim seungmin )#( 🎤 ⸻ events / valentines collab )

425 notes · View notes

maximoffwitch · 10 months

Note

for the 1k celebration, could i please request from the smut list #126. "I'm sorry but, I don't think I can remain professional any longer." with natasha x fem(she/her) reader? 🥺

Keeping It Professional

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

warnings: 18+ !!! heavy sexual content, swearing, strap-on use (r receiving), fingering, reader has a praise kink, oral, mature content overall!!

word count: 2.7k

a/n: wow okay so this is like the smuttiest thing i have ever written i honestly don't know what i'm doing so pls be kind 🫣 also pls ignore the fact that this request is over a year old and from a celebration i never finished 😭 and as a reminder: this blog is 18+ !! (because this comes up in the story CEO is Chief Executive Officer and CFO is Chief Financial Officer :))

“You wanted to see, Ms. Romanoff?” You entered the large corner office, gently closing the door behind you.

“Yes, (Y/N),” the redhead didn’t even look up at you, her eyes still glued to whatever important documents she was reviewing. Natasha Romanoff was one of the most powerful CEOs in the city, if not the world, starting her own consulting firm at just 23. By the time she was twenty-eight, Widow Enterprises was the most successful firm in the entire country, making Natasha the first female executive and the youngest to lead an industry.

Oh, and she was also your boss. Working as Natasha Romanoff’s personal assistant was often a thankless job. The long hours and tedious tasks left little room for a social life, and your boss’s stoic perfectionism did little to ease your days.

“Please sit.” Natasha motioned to the two chairs in front of her desk, finally looking up and setting down her pen.

You obliged, taking a seat across from her.

“Do you know why I called you into my office, (Y/N)?” The redhead leaned back into her chair, as she carefully observed you.

You frowned, quickly racking your brain for any reason why your boss could want to talk to you so out of the blue and, apparently, in such a serious manner.

“Did you want to discuss the upcoming board meeting?” You subconsciously crossed your legs and adjusted your slacks, a nervous habit you picked up in said board meetings—being one of two women in a room of men is nerve-racking, to say the least. “I prepared all the notes and slide decks, but did you want me to forward them to you to review?”

Natasha had stopped double-checking your work about six months into your tenure there, as you had proven yourself more than competent. But you would understand her hesitancy, seeing as this meeting was with corporate executives who, if you had to guess, possessed the majority of the world’s wealth.

“No, no,” Natasha nonchalantly waved her hand, “I trust you have that all under control.”

You let out a small sigh of relief before knitting your brows. “I’m sorry, Ms. Romanoff, but then I can’t say I know why I am here.”

Natasha hummed as she stood up from the chair and made her way around the desk.

“I have a problem,” she revealed, as she sat on the edge of the desk and crossed her arms before lowering her voice, “with you.”

You nearly choked on your breath, your own anxiety choking you.

Seeing you were at a loss for words, Natasha continued, “Now don’t get me wrong, your work speaks for itself. I have no issues with the way you do your job. In fact, you are the best personal assistant I have ever had.”

Your eyes widened at Natasha’s rare compliment.

“Then what,” you cleared your throat in an attempt to rid the nerves from your voice, “what is the issue?”

“The issue is.” Natasha pushed herself off the desk and circled you as if you were her prey. When she hovered behind you, she bent down and whispered, “I don’t think I can remain professional any longer.”

You remained frozen, clenching your thighs together, as the feeling of your boss’s warm breath against your ear caused a tightness to coil in your lower abdomen.

Natasha smirked at your body’s reaction, before gently running her fingertips across your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their path.

“Tell me you don’t want this.” She brushed a loose strand of hair from your neck, exposing more of your skin. “Tell me, and I’ll stop.”

You should yell that this was outrageously inappropriate, that you really shouldn’t be doing this in the middle of the work day, that this violated every single one of HR’s rules.

But you didn’t; you couldn’t. As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you wanted her.

Craning your neck, you turned your head to meet Natasha’s salacious gaze and nodded.

Natasha raised her brow, amused. “Use your words, doll.”

“I want you,” you husked.

“Oh, I know you do.” She gave you a smug grin, firmly cupping your chin while running her thumb over your bottom lip. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you stare at me during meetings or the way you flaunt yourself around my office in those tight pant suits.

“Are you that desperate for attention, little one?”

“Only yours,” you panted, need bleeding through your voice.

“Good.” Natasha clicked her tongue, pleased by your answer, before guiding you to stand. “Now turn around.”

You obeyed and turned your back to her, gasping when Natasha gripped your hips and pushed you against the desk, her front pressed against you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” she growled as she pulled your hair, causing you to arch against her.

“Every time I see you and your wide doe eyes, so eager to please, so eager to be fucked,” Natasha nipped your neck, and you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your mouth. At that moment, the redhead could not be more grateful for the soundproof walls of her office, “I want to bend you over my desk and give you what you want.”

"Yes, please,” you groaned, grinding your hips against her front, liquid arousal pooling in your stomach as you felt a bulge in Natasha’s slacks.

“Please what?” She kissed the corner of your mouth, as she nimbly worked her fingers to unbutton your pants, slowly sliding the waistband down.

“Fuck me,” you begged, “please.”

“So needy,” Natasha shoved her hand down the front of your black-laced panties, where she was instantly met with a desperate wetness.

“You are so wet, princess,” she teased, her fingers circling your clit slowly, “and I’ve barely even touched you.”

Before you could plead for more, Natasha plunged two digits into your heat, stifling your moan with a searing kiss.

Your tongues languidly danced together, fighting for dominance. Natasha quickly won that battle, simultaneously biting your bottom lip and curling her fingers deeper into your core.

“God, fuck,” you moaned as she pushed you down onto the desk so you were completely bent over at her will, your pants pooling at your ankles.

“Natasha is fine.” You could practically hear her smirk, but you were too far gone to say anything. All you could do was clench your walls around her fingers, silently asking for more.

Natasha added another finger as the heel of her palm rubbed your clit. You could feel yourself approaching the edge, and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold on.

“Be a good girl.” She leaned down and kissed the shell of your ear. “And come for me.”

“Natasha!” you cried out as you let the waves of pleasure crash over your body. Natasha kept her fingers in you, slowly pumping them in and out, as she gradually brought you down from your high.

As she finally slipped out of you, you whined at the loss. Natasha wrapped her arm around your chest, pulling you up and back against her.

“Taste.” She stuck her glistening fingers before your mouth, and you obeyed. Wrapping your lips around her digits, you stared directly into her eyes and swirled your tongue to taste your own pleasure.

Natasha’s eyes darkened at the action as you released her fingers from your mouth with a pop.

“You’re such an obedient assistant, aren’t you?” Natasha hummed, tucking a loose hair behind your ear. “I bet you’d do anything I asked, hm?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your shame long gone, as you submitted yourself completely to the other woman.

“Good.” She kissed the corner of your mouth before taking your hand in hers. “Now, come suck my strap.”

You stepped out of your pants, goosebumps rising up your legs as you were left only in your underwear and half-buttoned silk blouse.

As Natasha sat down in her chair, she pulled her own slacks down her thighs, revealing a decently sized strap-on, and your mouth watered at the sight. You lustfully eyed Natasha, who scooted her hips to the edge of the seat.

“Get on your knees for me, pretty girl,” the redhead directed as she worked to unbutton her shirt.

You sank to your knees in between Natasha’s legs, ignoring the harsh vinyl floor beneath you. Softly rubbing your hands up her thighs, you stared up at her and took the tip of the plastic cock in your mouth.

Natasha watched you with an intense gaze, her eyes unable to leave the sight of her strap-on slowly disappearing deep into your throat. As you bobbed your head up and down, coating the dildo with spit, Natasha groaned, throwing her head back.

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” She took a fistful of your hair in her hand, controlling your pace. “I bet your pussy is just aching to be filled by my strap.”

You wantonly moaned and increased the pace of your movements, causing Natasha to hiss, as the strap-on rubbed against her clit.

Natasha tightened her grasp on your hair and tugged at your scalp, sending a shock of pleasure through your body at the brief moment of pain.

“Are you gonna let me fuck your mouth, princess?” She looked down at you, waiting for your eyes to meet hers. Nodding slightly, you widened your mouth and relaxed your throat.

“Good girl,” Natasha cooed, as she brought her other hand to gently caress your cheek before firmly taking hold of the back of your head.

Natasha bucked her hips, hungrily chasing her own release. The squelching sound of the dildo plunging into your throat echoed around the office, as your eyes began to water.

“So good,” Natasha threw her head back, still rutting into your mouth. “So close.”

Feeling herself right at the peak, she thrust her hips up and pushed your head down, causing you to choke and lose your breath momentarily.

“Fuck!” she cried, her body stilling as her orgasm washed over her. Gasping, you released the strap from your mouth. You looked up at Natasha, who was also catching her breath.

“Come here.” Natasha softly hooked her finger under you chin. You stood from your kneeling position and moved in between her legs, leaning forward to meet her awaiting lips.

This time, Natasha kissed you with less urgency and more passion, as if she had all the time in the world.

“You did so well, milaya,” she cooed, the praise along with the Russian term causing your walls to clench around nothing. Natasha grinned, as she saw your thighs involuntarily clench together. “You want to ride me?”

Though she posed it as a question, you could tell there was little room for debate.

Nodding, you bit your lip and shrugged your shirt off your shoulders. You kept eye contact with Natasha as you slowly shimmied out of your ruined underwear.

The redhead followed your every move with blatant desire, gulping when she watched a string of wetness cling to the fabric as it fell down your legs.

Bracing yourself on the back of the chair, you straddled Natasha’s lap, hovering over the dildo.

“You are so perfect.” She kissed your exposed cleavage, biting your skin before soothing it with her tongue. “So perfect and so ready to be fucked.”

“Yes, Natasha,” you rested your forehead against hers as she teased your entrance with the strap-on, “please fuck me, take me, make me yours.”

“You’re mine,” Natasha growled, pulling your bottom lip between her teeth as she pushed the tip into your heat.

“Yours,” you sank down, the toy stretching your walls perfectly, and the two of you moaned in unison. Neither of you moved, allowing you to adjust to the size.

Slowly, you started to move, pulling another cacophony of sounds from the woman beneath you.

“Faster, (Y/N),” Natasha gritted through her teeth as she gripped your hips. “Ride my cock.”

You followed her commands and bounced up and down on her strap. Natasha eagerly bucked her hips up, matching your rhythm.

“Fuck, Nat,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as Natasha reached around you to unclasp your bra, allowing your breasts to bounce freely.

“That’s right.” She pinched your nipples between her fingers, causing you to let out to a guttural moan. “You’re such a good girl, riding me like the slut you are.”

“Nat,” you pleaded, feeling the coil tightening in your abdomen.

“Are you close, princess?”

You nodded with a whimper, grinding your hips down onto Natasha’s.

“Chase your pleasure,” she whispered, as she brought your forehead to meet hers.

You stared deeply into her eyes as you relentlessly rode the toy.

“I’m gonna come, Natasha,” you gasped, your breath hot against her lips.

“Not yet, darling,” she commanded, causing you to pout. Natasha slipped her hand between your bodies, her fingers ghosting over your clit. “I want us to come together.”

You let out a whine, your pace even more frantic than before, as Natasha began to rub tight circles against your bud.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” she grunted, her thrusts becoming sloppy. Pinching your clit, Natasha surged forward to kiss you, before mumbling against your lips, “Come with me, my good girl.”

You both cried out, pleasure overtaking your bodies at the same time. Melting into her embrace, you rested your head against her shoulder. The two of you basked in the post-coital silence, the toy still buried deep inside of you.

Remembering where you were, you lifted your head and tenderly smoothed Natasha’s disheveled hair.

“How was that?” You gave her an amused smirk.

“Perfect.” She grinned blissfully. “You were absolutely perfect.”

“Better than you imagined?"

“So much better, my love.” Natasha gently kissed you, her way of thanking you for fulfilling her fantasy. Though she knew you got just as much pleasure out of it as she did.

“Good,” you separated, pecking her lips once more before demounting from her lap.

“Where are you going?” she whined, removing the harness and tossing it aside as she watched you gather your clothes.

“James’s soccer practice is ending in twenty minutes, and I told him I would pick him up.” You fastened the buttons on your blouse before walking around the desk to where your pants were.

“Don’t we have a sitter for that?” Natasha joked, though you could tell she was still disappointed by your departure.

“We do.” You used the desk to balance yourself, as you slipped on your heels. “But I gave Kate the day off because I promised James I’d pick him up.”

“Fine,” Natasha stood up, pulling her own pants back up and buttoning up her shirt as she walked over to wrap her arms around your waist, “but I had other plans for us.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, straightening out her collar. “I was serious earlier about sending that slide deck over to you to review, if you want.”

“And I was also being serious earlier,” Natasha shot you a knowing wink, “I trust you have that all under control.”

“Good, because I do,” you smirked confidently.

“Best. CFO. Ever.” She emphasized each word with a kiss.

You preened at the praise, a slight blush tainting your cheeks. “Well, now I have to go be the best mom ever. Seriously, love, I have to go.”

“Alright,” Natasha relented, letting her hands fall from your hips.

“Don’t worry, we’ll finish what we started later,” you whispered, pecking the corner of her lips, as you slipped something in Natasha’s breast pocket. “I’ll see you at home, love.”

“Counting on it.”

You lightly patted her chest and winked, before making your way out of the office, making sure to close the door behind you.

After you left, Natasha cleaned up, ridding any evidence of your activities and reorganizing her desk. As she prepares to resume her work, powering on her desktop, Natasha feels something in her breast pocket.

Reaching into her pocket to retrieve whatever you put there earlier, she grinned at what she pulled out.

“Little minx,” Natasha chuckled, fiddling with your lacy black thong in her hand before tucking it back in her pocket.

Best. Wife. Ever.

#my writing #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut

2K notes · View notes

kiss-me-cill-me · 4 months

Text

Predator

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: You are obsessed with Jonathan Crane. And tonight, you're finally going to show him just how much you love him - even if he might not remember the encounter. But when things don't go according to plan, you are the one forced to deal with the consequences. Not that you're complaining...

Warnings: DUB-CON smut (the con is extremely dub on both sides here, folks), mentions of non-con, stalking, yandere!reader, loss of control, mind games, needles, mentions of drugs, mentions of sex work, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, degradation, praise, name-calling, multiple orgasms

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Your heels tap against the tile, clicking like a raptor’s talons, as you make your way across the hotel lobby. You smile, leaning over the counter to talk to the concierge, and try to look a little embarrassed.

“I'm so sorry to bother you,” you say. The hotel clerk is staring, not quite subtly, at your breasts, which is exactly where you want him to look. “But I seem to have lost my room key. May I have another one?”

The clerk collects himself; puts on his business voice as his fingers poise above his keyboard.

“Of course,” he replies. “Name on the reservation?”

“Crane. Jonathan.”

The clerk types rapidly for a moment, and then looks back at you.

“I'm sorry, miss, but I'm only showing one person on this reservation. You're not, ah…”

“Mmm.” You smile. “My boyfriend is here on a business trip. Speaking at the big conference in town. I'm not… exactly supposed to be here with him. I'm sure he wouldn't have told his work I'd be staying with him.”

Your voice drops just a bit lower, hinting at conspiracy. You consider winking, but decide against it. No need to oversell things.

“Boyfriend. Is that right?” the hotel clerk drawls. He looks you up and down briefly.

Rage flashes white hot behind your eyes, there and gone too fast for him to notice. This man assumes that you're some kind of prostitute. You can see it on his face, and it angers you. You're infuriated that he doesn't believe what you’ve told him. Though of course, it's not as if you're telling the truth.

“That's right,” you agree, pleasantly. “And I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a rush. I'm dying to get out of this dress.”

You only have to act a little. The tight black dress you're wearing really is uncomfortable, but to play the part you have to dress the part. And besides, you want to look your best tonight.

The image of you undressing seems to be enough to convince the man, who turns back to his computer and starts typing again. You're not proud of throwing yourself around like this. Honestly, you would prefer it if no one but Crane got to enjoy you tonight - even if having him actually see you would throw a wrench into your plans. But you have to do what it takes to get your prize, and you're not above using the tactics that work.

“Could you just confirm the room number for me?” asks the hotel clerk, in a last-ditch effort to preserve some of his professionalism.

“Three-oh-three,” you say with a smile.

The clerk hands over a key card.

“Have a nice night,” he tells you.

You thank him. Snatch the card and walk away, toward the elevators that are waiting like steel traps at the other end of the lobby. That was easier than it should have been. You tuck the card safely into your purse, next to the little syringe and the three condoms. Traveling light tonight. The doors open as you reach the first elevator, as if they were waiting for you.

You smile.

You feel your heart beating heavy in your chest when the elevator doors finally open on your floor. Well, not your floor, really, but Crane’s floor. You've invited yourself, but that doesn't make what's about to happen tonight any less special.

Before you know it, you're standing in front of his door, the numbers above the peephole staring back at you as you pause for a moment. You're almost lightheaded, just from being here, so close to fulfilling the dream you've had for months.

Jonathan Crane. A genius. A visionary. And the man at the center of your every fantasy. For too long, you've watched him from afar - at first not daring to let yourself dream of having him, but then, slowly, realizing that you have no life without him. That he is the center of your universe, and that your purpose is to trail after him like a desperate satellite. Once you knew that, it became impossible not to be with him. Unbearable to bear spending every day on his periphery when all you wanted was him, him, him.

You steady yourself. Close your eyes for a few seconds just to savor it. Just being here. Then, you take the card out of your purse and swipe it, quickly tucking it back away before you open the door. The handle turns easily - why wouldn’t it, after all? You are, clearly, meant to be here - despite the fact that you are most certainly not supposed to be here. You step into the room, letting the door close behind you, and take another moment to bask.

“You know, I’d really prefer if you’d knock,” says a voice, suddenly coming from inside the room.

From where you’re standing you can’t see much, but you freeze, instantly. You’re stuck in that strange little hallway that seems to be at the entrance of every hotel room, with just a few coat hangers and a full-length mirror for company. And you can’t move because that’s his voice coming from around the corner. You would recognize it anywhere.

As you stand frozen, two things occur to you. One: it’s strange that Crane sounds like he’s expecting someone. And two: it’s even stranger that he’s here. His schedule says he’s at one of the conference’s dinners right now. You were supposed to have time to prepare. This is not going according to plan.

“I told you,” says a slightly annoyed Crane, his voice getting closer, “that I’d have your money tomorrow. So if you could just-”

His words cut off as he sees you, clearly not whoever he was expecting, and your heart skips at least three beats as you finally come face to face with him.

“Who are you?” he asks, reasonably.

“O-oh, I’m… terribly sorry,” you reply. Your heart is now hammering at a million miles a minute, making up for lost time. You feel yourself fumbling for words, but manage to wrestle control of your tongue. “I must have the wrong room.”

Crane rakes his eyes over you suspiciously. You can see from the tilt of his head that he doesn’t buy it, and now he’s sizing you up as a threat. You let yourself swoon for just a moment. He’s so intelligent. This is exactly why you’d planned to lie in wait for him; you could never outsmart him and you very likely also couldn’t best him in a fight. Not that you’d ever want it to come to that, but if it did… Well, you doubt you’d be able to keep your mind on self preservation for very long once he got his hands on you.

“How did you get in here?” he presses.

“This is the room they gave me,” you explain. “There must have been some kind of mixup at the front desk.”

It's a slightly different story than the first, but hopefully a more believable one. You open your purse; reach in to pull out the key card and show him. Or maybe you'll go for the syringe. But before your fingers can wrap around anything, Crane snatches your purse and turns swiftly on his heel.

“Hey!”

You follow after him as he strides to the large bed, and dumps out the purse’s contents. The syringe, the condoms, and a few errant bobby pins spill out across the duvet. The key card falls to the floor.

“It’s rude to go through a woman’s purse, you know!”

Your anger flares in his direction before you can control yourself. You bite your tongue, horrified that you've snapped at him.

“I'd say it's pretty clear that the rules of civility don't apply to you,” Crane retorts, as he reaches for the syringe. “Just what exactly were you planning to do with this?”

“That's… personal?” you mumble.

“Try again.”

God, he's so sexy. How are you supposed to concentrate on getting out of this when his voice is all graveley and dark like that, and he's staring at you with those eyes that look like they could pierce through skin and bone, and-

“Well?”

Crane is growing impatient. You scrabble together your thoughts and open your mouth to speak, plan still only half formed.

“Ah, I mean, that's my medication,” you explain. “It's for… migraines.”

“Hm, really?” Crane replies. “Then you wouldn't mind if I administered it to you.”

“No!” you say, a bit too sharply.

He's already removed the cap from the needle, and has taken a few steps toward you when your voice rings out. He stops in his tracks, and you swear you can hear your heartbeat thunder around the room. A tense moment of silence passes, before Crane finally speaks again.

“So, this isn't your migraine medication,” he states. “And you're a strange woman who's just shown up in my hotel room, with a purse full of drugs and condoms. I'm calling security.”

Crane calmly walks to the bedside table, stabs the syringe into its wooden surface, and picks up the phone out of its cradle. Your heart rate spikes as he starts to dial.

“Dr. Crane, I don't think you should do that,” you warn.

“And why the fuck is that?”

“Because I don't want to have to tell them… who you really are.”

Crane pauses, and cocks his head at you again. You can feel yourself regaining control of the situation. Like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders; it feels good. So good that you can't help but smile at him as he scrunches his eyebrows together and frowns.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks.

The word passes over your lips like a sin, spreading its venom over your tongue as you say it.

“Scarecrow.”

Crane's eyes widen. You feel red heat rise to your cheeks. He wasn't expecting you to have leverage, and the fact that you've managed to surprise him fills you with an immense pride.

“Who are you?” Crane asks softly.

“I'm a fan of your work,” you reply. It might be the first truth you've told all night.

Crane replaces the phone with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks up at you.

“Okay, who are you working for?” he asks. “Who sent you?”

You shake your head.

“No, no, no, Dr. Crane - I mean it,” you giggle. “I heard you speak at a different conference a few months ago, and I… Well, is it crazy to say that I fell in love?”

Crane fixes you with a glare that says, yes, it most certainly is crazy. You don't even notice as you rattle on - Jonathan Crane is your favorite subject, after all.

“From there, I wanted to learn everything about you,” you continue. “Where you live, where you work, where you shop for groceries. Some of it was easier to figure out than the rest, of course, but once I learned your schedule it became clear to me. You spend a lot of time out of the house late-late at night.”

Crane studies you carefully as you go on your monologue, but you're too wrapped up in it to care.

“So I dug deeper, and guess what I found?” you tease. “Dr. Crane has a secret, and now it's our secret to share. You and me.”

You've closed some of the distance between you, and now Crane is so wonderfully close that you could reach out and brush your fingers against him. You resist, not wanting to scare him away, but look up at him expectantly as you wait for his reaction. You've just laid your heart bare for the first time in forever. He has that effect on you, you guess; it's impossible to deny him anything.

“So you're obsessed with me,” Crane says calmly. “I can't lie; it is kind of flattering.” He smiles. Only for a moment, before his expression turns dark. “But you still haven't told me, what the fuck were you planning to do with this?”

He gestures to the syringe, still sticking up with its needle planted in the bedside table, greenish liquid swirling inside of it. You lower your eyes, suddenly bashful. It feels so utterly silly now; you feel like you've actually started to build up a rapport with him, and you don't want to risk harming Crane’s perception of you. Still, knowing him, it will be worse for you if you don't tell the truth upfront, so you're honest yet again.

“It's a blend of a few things,” you admit. “An aphrodisiac, a relaxant, a very mild sedative. I was planning to use it on you so I could…”

“Rape me?” Crane supplies.

“Don't say it like that!” you beg. It sounds so ugly when he says it that way. “I just wanted to show you my love. I wanted to share it with you. That's not a bad thing, is it?”

You take another step toward him, desperate to show him what you mean. If only he'd let you show him. It would be so good for both of you. As you get closer, Crane backs up until he's sitting on the bed, then leaning back into the mattress. You lean down, trying not to hover over him too much, your fingers barely ghosting the sheets as you plant your arms on either side of his body.

“Please,” you whisper. Crane doesn't look afraid, but he is eyeing you carefully. “Please just let me show you?”

Crane considers the situation for a moment. You wait with bated breath, not daring to let yourself imagine what will happen if he says yes. The room spins as you forget to take in enough oxygen, and you feel yourself dip an inch closer to him.

“If I let you live out your twisted fantasy,” he begins, slowly. “You won't tell anyone about what you said earlier?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” you promise, your smile immediately brightening at his words.

Crane nods, just once. Curtly.

“Fine then,” he says. Your heart explodes in your chest. “But you’re not using that syringe on me. And you're going to do all the work.”

As he's talking, he's already shrugging out of his shirt. You practically drool at the sight of his bare chest; struck with the irresistible urge to drag your fingers over it. You feel yourself smiling wildly. This is so much better than you'd ever imagined it. Your beloved is actually a willing participant! Why had you ever been prepared to settle for anything less?

Crane slowly unbuckles his belt, and then looks at you expectantly. Your fingers feel almost removed from your body as you reach out to pop the button on his pants. None of this feels real; you must be in a dream. You hope he doesn’t notice how much you’re shaking. It wouldn’t do to have him get any ideas about wrestling his way out of this.

“Let’s go through your little plan together,” says Crane, as you tug down his zipper and start to pull on his waistband. “You were going to drug me, knock me out - and then what?”

The only thing separating you from your prize now is the thin cotton of his boxer-briefs. Beneath, you can tell that he’s already half hard. The realization sends a throbbing ache between your legs. The musky scent of his arousal - or maybe it’s yours - starts to seep into the room, and you lick your lips to get a taste of it like a snake.

“Was gonna get you ready for me,” you answer, already slipping into a haze of fantasy.

“How?” Crane asks.

“With my mouth…”

Maybe it’s your imagination, but you swear you see his cock twitch at your words. The air catches in your throat again, and you have to force yourself to take deep breaths through your nose.

“Go on, then,” Crane prods. “Show me.”

He’s sitting up slouched on the bed, arms bent just a little so he can look down at you as you bring yourself to eye level with his cock. He is definitely getting hard; you don’t even have to do anything to him, honestly. But you want to, and even more important than that - Dr. Crane is telling you to. You can’t deny him.

You pull down the thin fabric, and watch as he springs free. His cock is beautiful - just like you’d imagined it would be. There’s already a bead of precum on the tip, just begging to be licked off. You wrap your lips around him eagerly and worship the head of his cock, tasting the salty tang of him as you kiss it. Lovingly. Gently. That’s what you want to be for him as you part your lips and take him deeper, moaning around his length.

Crane has other ideas.

He ruts up into your mouth, letting out an absolutely sinful groan as he does it. The sound has you clenching your thighs for dear life as a wave of arousal and pressure runs through you. You want to touch yourself desperately, but know you need to hold on. There’s no way you’re going to waste the energy to get off on your own fingers tonight.

“Sorry,” Crane says. “Forgot I was supposed to be unconscious.”

You can’t reply with his cock in your mouth, but the biting sarcasm in his voice makes you feel things that are probably best left unsaid. Thank goodness you abandoned your morality a long time ago.

In direct contradiction to what he’s just said, Crane tangles a hand in your hair and starts pressing you further down onto his cock. You gag as the tip of your nose touches him, and let out a muffled whine.

“What, too much for you?” Crane laughs. “I thought you wanted to get me ready.”

You try not to whimper as you nod your head. You can feel your mascara starting to run as tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and try to blink them back in. Once you’re composed enough to refocus, you start to swirl your tongue against him. Crane’s grip on the back of your head tightens, and you feel a sense of pride swell in you, pressing down the panic. This is exactly what you wanted - to make him feel good. To show him your devotion. You bob your head, pushing past the point of your own comfort to take him as deep as you can.

He lets your throat clench around him for a few minutes before he abruptly pulls you off. Your mouth makes a wet pop as it sucks around nothing, and you look up at your beloved with something that borders on sadness and lust.

“What next?” he demands. “I know you didn’t just come here to suck me off like a cheap whore.”

You stand up and try to collect yourself. Wipe the spit that’s pooled at the base of your chin. Organize your thoughts into some semblance of an intelligible response.

“Want to… to feel you inside me,” you pant.

“Of course you do,” Crane says. He has something in his hand, and he holds it up to show you. The condoms. “You even came prepared. But, let’s not pretend for even a second that you were actually going to use these.”

He throws the roll of condoms behind him, and they disappear somewhere over the side of the bed. Your mouth is hanging open in shock, and Crane smirks at your disbelief.

“It’s not fun if there’s not a little risk, right?” he says. “Don’t tell me that’s not why you came here in the first place - to get off on the thrill of doing something dangerous.”

“I… I came here for you,” you insist.

Though it is getting harder and harder to think straight as Crane slips himself fully out of his lingering clothes. When he’s done with that, he moves on to reaching up and grabbing at the zipper on your dress. He pauses with his hands at the back of your neck.

“And what drew you to me in the first place?” he presses. “You know I’m a dangerous man. You know my deepest, darkest secret. But instead of scaring you away, it only pushes you closer. You can’t resist the fear that you feel at the thought of being near me. Wanna know something? I think, deep down, you wanted to get caught.”

Your head is already spinning too much to comprehend what he’s saying. All you know is that his voice has dropped several octaves and it’s making you incredibly, almost painfully, wet. Your eyes roll back in your head as Crane tugs at your zipper and helps you slip out of your dress. Your bra and panties are black lace, and Crane seems to admire them for a moment before unclasping the hooks and pulling off your bra.

“You’re pretty fucking twisted, but you do have a nice rack,” he comments. “I’ll let you take care of the rest.”

With shaking fingers, you slide the lacy waistband over your hips, relishing the soft scratch of fabric as it moves down your thighs. Once they’re pooled on the floor, you step delicately out of your panties, and look down at Crane, still sitting on the bed in front of you.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he says. “I warned you that you’d have to do all the work.”

You straddle him, moving a bit too fast in your eagerness. You’re getting clumsy, but you don’t care. Planting your hands on his shoulders, you feel the way he glides into you as you lower yourself. So insanely good. The stretch as his cock is buried inside of you makes you see stars. You gasp, and then moan as your hips reach his.

“Feels better this way, right?” Crane teases. “A little risk always makes freaks like you cum faster.”

“Mmhmm,” you agree, barely listening to what he’s saying.

“Go ahead and get yourself off,” Crane says. It almost sounds like a challenge. “Use me like a glorified dildo, just like you wanted.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you start moving, bouncing up and down on his cock as you chase your high. Crane stays still, letting you do all the work just like he said he would. You grind into him, desperate for friction against your clit, and wish more than anything that he’d reach up and play with your nipples. It’s a lewd thought, but you’re so far gone that you don’t care anymore, and eventually you move your hands to pinch them yourself.

The air in the room is getting hotter; thick with sex and filled with moans as you get closer and closer to your release. Crane stares at you, somehow managing to keep a straight face while he watches you fuck yourself on his dick. You press yourself close as you can as you grind down again.

“Gonna come!” you whine.

And then you do; waves of pleasure crashing over you as the coil in your stomach finally lets go. Your legs shake, both your eyes squeeze shut, and you have to hold onto Crane’s shoulders to keep from falling right off the bed as you gush onto him.

You’re panting with exertion as you come down from the high. Brain still foggy from the rush of endorphins and the elation of finally fulfilling your fantasy. And the best part is knowing that Crane got to feel all of it. The way you clenched around him; the way you screamed, shameless, as your love for him coated his cock. Getting to share the moment like this was better than you’d ever dared to dream of.

“Good girl,” Crane says. “Now do it again.”

Your eyes shoot open in disbelief. Crane looks up at you, smirking.

“You heard me,” he growls. “You’re not done yet. I want to see you play with yourself.”

The only reply you can formulate is a moan, but Crane pays no mind to it as he grabs one of your sweaty hands and shoves it between your legs.

“No moving, now,” he warns you. “Use your fingers and that’s it. My cock stays in you, but you don’t get to use it.”

It’s so hard not to swirl your hips, even just a little. You want so badly to feel that pressure of him, moving against your walls. Even staying still, he fills you up deliciously - but you want more. But, you do as he says and rub your clit, until you’re on the edge of another orgasm.

“I-I’m close,” you whimper.

“That fast?” Crane taunts. “You’re really that desperate for me?”

You nod, biting your lip. You’re so close you can feel the heat rising in your chest. Your fingers press harder; your breathing goes shallow.

“Please fuck me!” you beg.

“Mm-mnn,” Crane refuses. “This is what you wanted, remember? Make yourself come for me.”

His words are all you need to tip past the point of no return. You cry out, almost shocked at the pleasure that rips through you once again, even more intense than the first time.

“Fuck…” you gasp.

You lower your head to Crane’s shoulder, exhausted after two orgasms back to back. Your sweat is slick against his skin, and it’s so good to rest for even a moment. Your whole body is buzzing so intensely, it feels like you could fall apart at any second.

“Think you can do one more for me?”

Crane’s voice is rough, and right in your ear. He’s relentless. Weakly, you shake your head no. You loll off the side of his shoulder, slumping against him as your body gives out.

“I think you can,” Crane insists. “Come on, you brought three condoms - must have had big plans.”

“Can’t…” you say.

It comes out as more of a breath than a word. Every ounce of your energy is gone.

“How disappointing,” Crane sighs. “And you haven’t even made me come once. I guess I’ll have to fix that.”

In the next instant, your back is pressed against the bed. Crane hovers over you, smug grin spreading across his face.

“I know this isn’t part of your plan,” Crane tells you. “You wanted to be the one in control. It scares you more than anything not to be. But honey, it’s time to accept the truth. You weren’t in control from the moment you stepped in this room.”

You feel his cock drag slowly out of you, before slamming back in so hard that the force lifts your hips off the bed. The shock makes you yelp.

“Doesn’t it feel so good to let go? You begged me to fuck you earlier. Really, I’m just giving you what you want.”

“Want… want you to cum in me,” you pant.

Your eyes are heavy, but you open them to look at Crane as you say it. You watch his eyes darken as he looks down at you.

“Just like I thought,” he says. “You wanted it to go like this. Your little cocktail of Ambien and Viagra was just a safety net, pretend, so that you wouldn’t have to admit to yourself just how much the idea of losing control over me turned you on. But something got twisted in that fucked up little head of yours, and now you can only cum if I tell you to. Is that right?”

“Y-yes,” you whimper.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe.

“Good.” Crane smiles darkly. “And now you’re going to come one more time for me. We’re not stopping until you do.”

You can tell that he’s serious, and you can already feel your third orgasm building. He's right, about all of it. He's read you like a book, and laid bare the things that you couldn't even admit to yourself. There's a terrifying intimacy in the way he seems to get inside your head, and maybe that is what you wanted all along.

You don't have long to consider it, though, because Crane is pulling at your wrist and bringing your fingers up to his lips. He sucks on your pointer and middle fingers, taking them into his mouth and swirling his tongue as he looks down at you. You're frozen in his glare, unable to look away despite feeling like you're on the verge of passing out.

When he's done, Crane moves your hand so that it's pressed between the two of you, wet fingers brushing against your clit. You squirm, and Crane smiles again.

“Good girl.”

His thrusts are slower, but more powerful now. Even without moving your fingers, your clit is getting rubbed with each surge of his hips, as he forces your body into the mattress.

“S-so close,” you gasp.

“I know, sweetheart,” Crane rasps in reply. “I can feel you trying to hold it back, but you won't be able to for long. Come on my cock again.”

As he orders, you obey. It really is impossible to deny him. Your chest feels like it's about to collapse as you stop sucking in air, and your mouth hangs open, useless, as you freeze in time for just a moment when the orgasm finally floods through you, dulling all your other senses. When you regain the slightest amount of control over your body, you cry out for him, rut your hips against his, bring your hands up to claw at his shoulders.

“I told you you'd do it,” Crane pants. “Now it's my turn.”

He pumps into you again, the friction against your too-sore clit almost unbearable. But you're so drunk off his cock that you don't care. The pain is pleasure by this point, and you hold tight to him in a desperate attempt to make him finish inside you, just like you wanted.

Crane is so much stronger than you, though, and he tears away just as he reaches his peak. He isn't careful with his aim; painting you and the bed with white lust as he empties messily, all over you. It's in your face; your hair; and splattered across your chest like fresh blood. You bask in the feeling of being marked by him.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Your chest is heaving with each breath. Crane, still on top of you, brushes a hand against your cheek and uses his thumb to collect some of his spent cum. He brings it down to your clit as he slips out of you, pressing against the still-sensitive nub.

“Ah!”

Overstimulated, you arch your back at his touch. His thumb is rough, but the lubrication of his cum on it feels good. He chuckles softly, and moves away.

“Get some rest,” Crane tells you. His eyes gloss over the bedside table, to where the syringe still waits. “You have a very long night ahead of you… I don't think that we've gotten even, yet.”

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #jonathan crane #LemmyFics

617 notes · View notes

goldenlikedayl1ght · 6 months

Text

the lakes - m. murdock

a/n: hey guys so i've been struggling a lot with the fact that i might have hearing loss (i'm going to the doctor next week) and as always i am projecting, but i am not 100% sure everything in this fic is accurate and for that i apologize. but it's my little passion project and i hope you enjoy <3 as always, comments and reblogs are always loved and appreciated! warnings: hearing loss, hearing aids, tinnitus, reader struggling with being disabled, some parts are more vulnurable and don't have the reader being like overly confident in their disability, matt being soft, some suggestive behavior at the end, kissing, nicknames, pretty pg-13 honestly word count: 3.0k summary: your hearing aids run out of battery, and you're forced to struggle through a day of ringing ears and being deaf. matt helps, as he always does. pairing: matt murdock x hard of hearing!reader now playing: the lakes - taylor swift "take me to the lakes/where all the poets went to die/i don't belong/but my beloved, neither do you."

“Are you deaf?”

“What?”

You’re eighteen, home from college for the first time since fall break. Your family sits around for Thanksgiving, and there are so many people talking. There’s about thirteen people at this long dining room table, and they are all talking at once. You’re sitting next to your sister, but you can’t hear her well.

You know she’s speaking, and you’re sure you’re yelling, but you’re frustrated.

“I said, are you deaf? I repeated myself like, four times!”

You feel your face flush.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you. You’re mumbling, and it’s loud in here.”

Your sister looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I’m right next to you, and I’m not mumbling. In fact, no one is yelling, either.”

You poke your fork at your sweet potatoes and feel hot, angry tears in your eyes as you avoid everyone’s gaze.

Your mom sits across from you, and frowns, planning to tell you to make an appointment at the student health center when you get back to campus.

She doesn’t even have to. You’ve booked one by the time she says it to you.

At the student health center, they administer a hearing test, and then refer you to a specialist for further testing. You call your mom, crying and she gently comforts you, before driving to the nearest bookstore and picking up a book on hearing impairments and a copy of ASL for Dummies.

At the specialist, they do another round of tests. Your doctor tells you that you do in fact have hearing issues and that you should come back in a year for more testing, to see if your hearing gets worse. For now, you get a doctor’s note that requires all your professors to take your hearing impairment into consideration. The process for getting that applied at your university is painful, and only gets worse through your years there.

Before you get to law school, your doctor tests you again, and tells you how your hearing has been decreasing in quality in the past few years. He says that you’ll need hearing aids to regulate it. You cry because you cannot afford that.

You get captioning accommodations throughout law school, as well as a note taker for certain classes that are entirely lecture based. You still try to take your own notes, but it frustrates you that suddenly you need all this help. Your own notes are incomprehensible and often miss key parts of the lecture as you sit for a few minutes trying to decipher what your professor had said a few minutes prior.

You go into corporate law after law school, choosing to stay out of court initially because you find yourself frustrated that you wouldn’t be able to process all of what’s going on due to the many voices.

You stay at this company long enough to get your hearing aids, long enough to pay your loans, and long enough to save up a good fund for your hearing aid needs.

You quit your job and get hired at Nelson, Murdock & Page as an interim while you decide what you want to do.

With your hearing aids, life isn’t so frustrating anymore. You find yourself enjoying casual chatter and not worrying about processing what your friends are saying. At family dinners, you take your hearing aids out when you’re mad at your family, to which your stepdad, another hearing aid user, always laughs.

And, despite the pay not being stellar at your job, you love it. You love working with people who need help, love fighting injustice, and you love your coworkers.

...

If only Matt Murdock would reciprocate your feelings towards him.

You’ve been dancing this dance for months. You come into work with coffee and stutter when you get to his doorway.

You wonder if he’ll ever know how desperately you want him.

You go about your days quietly, going to the bar with them at the end of a long week. You love your friends and find yourself hoping they know how much you love them.

Karen and Foggy, as well as Foggy’s fiancé, know about your hearing aids since they sit sort of clunkily on your ears.

You don’t tell Matt, though, not at first.

You know how bad it is, to not even tell your blind crush that you have hearing aids. But you’re embarrassed. It makes you sound like an old person even though you’re in your twenties.

But when Matt crawls into your window late at night, bleeding, you don’t even flinch as he crashes onto your floor behind you. You’re reading, your hearing aids out, and he’s unsure why you can’t hear him. Your heartbeat had no reaction, it’s like you don’t even realize he’s there.

He taps you on your shoulder and you turn quickly, and gasp, before starting to sign at him. Even in his disoriented state, he knows you’re doing something with your hands and moving your mouth. At first, he thinks that he might have stuff clogging his ears, but then he realizes you’re signing, probably because you think Daredevil isn’t blind.

He takes off his helmet.

“Matt?” You say, and it comes out a little louder than it should, because you can’t hear yourself to gage how loud you’re being.

He says something, and your gaze focuses on his mouth, where you can barely make out what he’s saying.

“I can’t hear you.” You say, softer now. You reach over to your bedside table and put your hearing aids on. By the time you look back, Matt has passed out on the ground. Oh fuck.

You get your first aid kit and begin to work on his wounds. When you’re done, you pull him onto your couch, now stained with his blood, and watch as he sleeps. Blood covers your hands, and you listen to him breathing.

When he wakes up that morning, you’re asleep on the couch, and when you feel him start to stir. You grab your hearing aids, and turn them on, before watching him wake.

He says your name softly, and you take his hand in yours.

“Hey.. You.. You’re Daredevil...”

“You’re deaf.”

“Hard of hearing. Not fully deaf, just… My right ear is a lot better than my left, but without my hearing aids I’m close to deaf, yeah…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were Daredevil?”

“I was scared. Scared that… That you would view me differently, scared that you wouldn’t like me as much.”

“I was scared too..”

“When did you start losing your hearing?”

“In college. I realized it when I went home for Thanksgiving, and then it got worse from there..” You tell him. A hand reaches out to your face, and you lean into it, letting your cheek rest in his palm. His fingers trail up towards your ear and gently run his fingers over your hearing aid.

“Thanks for stitching me up.” He says softly.

“No problem.”

“The hearing aid does explain the buzzing I always hear when you’re around.”

“You can hear my hearing aids?”

“Apparently. I can hear a lot of things. I have heightened senses. You use pomegranate shampoo and had red velvet cake for dessert tonight. Your heart is racing.”

Your face flushes.

“I can turn them off if it’s bothering you.”

“How would you hear me, then?” He has a point.

“I just don’t want them to bother you.”

“Don’t offer to hide your disability just to make other people more comfortable.”

You kiss him when he says this, in a careful way. You’re gentle, making sure not to hurt him as you do. He lays there and lets you kiss him, his hands on your face. You realize you had no reason to be scared that Matt might reject you for your disability, because he is the only person in your everyday life who really gets how it is to have a disability that affects all aspects of your life.

You trace the healed scars on his skin as you kiss him gently, careful not to hurt him. You promise that you’ll kiss him more passionately when he isn’t freshly stitched up.

• • •

A few weeks passed after that night. You and Matt start seeing each other more and more as you fall deeper in love. You find it silly that you wasted so many days, afraid of talking to each other and maybe disappointing each other over the fact that you both lack a vital sense.

But Matt never views it that way. You wear hearing aids and it’s perfectly fine because most of the time, you aren’t struggling to hear him and cannot communicate with him, and he can’t see when you can’t hear him.

Instead, Matt loves that he can hear your hearing aids buzzing softly because it always alerts him that you’re there. He can hear your heartbeat and smell you, too, but it’s not quite the same as this soft little buzzing that reminds him often of a bee.

Except for this one day.

You slept over at Matt’s on a Thursday and really, you should have known better. You knew your hearing aids were going to need a battery change soon, but you’ve been so busy with work and with Matt, and worrying about him at night, that you’re tired. So tired that you forget to pick up batteries before your hearing aids die.

You sneak out of Matt’s apartment early, sending him a text that you needed to go get changed before work. Really, you want to avoid the fact that you wouldn’t be able to hear him. But he didn’t respond to your message. You decide that you don’t care at this moment and head out to work, debating the right way to tell your coworkers about your predicament.

When you get to work, Foggy is immediately talking to you, and you are tense.

“Foggy—” He’s not stopping. It sounds like he’s mumbling, and there’s this ringing in your ears. “Foggy, I can’t hear you.” He finally looks to you, and says something, you make it out to be a phrase of confusion. “My hearing aids died.” You tell him. You’re frustrated, and Matt isn’t in the office yet.

You deem this as a blessing and a curse. Foggy goes to tell Karen what’s going on and as you’re settling down for the day, you get a text. You hope it’s from Matt, but when you see Karen’s name, you falter slightly.

‘Hey! Foggy told me what was going on. We’ll have your calls redirected to one of us and you can spend the day doing housekeeping and paperwork.’

‘Thanks’, You respond, “Sorry about all this. I’m usually on top of my battery life.”

“Don’t worry about it. These things happen.”

“Still, thanks. Did you hear from Matt at all?”

“No, he probably just slept in late. He should be in soon.”

You try to ignore your anxieties over his absence even though you know that when he does come into the office, you’ll have to struggle to communicate with him all day.

So, for the first hour or so of your day, you try to get some work done but there’s a light ringing in your ears that’s getting worse and worse as you attempt to try and focus on other things. Everything sounds so muffled. You’re so focused that your teeth grind against each other, your muscles tense, as you attempt to try and block out the ringing in your ears.

You have a feeling that by the time you leave today, those hot frustrated tears will be threatening to pour once more.

You don’t hear Matt as he steps into your office and stands by your left side, where you’re almost completely deaf. He stands there for about ten minutes, trying to get your attention before he realizes the light buzzing of your hearing aids are not there.

You must not have them in.

So his hands find your shoulders gently, and instead of tensing, you actually relax under his touch, because you realize that it has to be Matt. A slight turning of your head confirms it and you lean into his touch.

Neither of you say much for a while, deciding to let your frustration slowly dissipate as you lean into his warm hands. They stay on your shoulders and upper arms, rubbing gentle patterns into your skin.

After a good ten minutes of this, his body shifts to your right side and he leans down, before speaking at full volume, maybe even a little louder, just to make sure you can hear him. It still sounds like he’s mumbling, but you can hear him.

“Forgot your hearing aids?”

“Batteries died.” You tell him. “You never answered me.”

“My phone died. I forgot my charger, too.. Are you gonna be okay to work all day?”

“Mhm..” You smile softly, “You’re gonna have to help answer calls, though.”

He kisses your cheek, and you lean into the warmth.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He says, a soft smile on his face.

The day goes by pretty much as you expect it. You spend it doing paperwork and dodging phone calls, your tinnitus gets worse as the day goes on. By the time the day is finally winding down, Karen sends you one final text.

“Matt’s staying a little late to catch up on some work. Want me to walk you home?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

You realize that because she and Foggy are heading home, you’ll be able to sit with Matt, maybe get a little bit of peace. You’re thankful, too, because you’re about to lose your mind over all of this. The ringing is just getting to be too much.

You wait a few minutes after Foggy and Karen head home before you go into Matt’s office. He smiles at you and gestures for you to come in, and you do. You lean against his desk, as he speaks loud enough now that you can hear him.

“I’ll just be a few more minutes, Bee.” Even the soft-spoken nickname doesn't get you out of your funk, too busy wanting to get on your hands and knees and beg God for your hearing back.

That doesn’t usually happen, but every once in a while you ask him for a normal life.

God sends you a blind man as your soulmate, because he must think that the whole thing is quite funny.

“Okay…”

You feel hot tears pooling in your eyes as you bite your tongue and dig your fingernails into your skin. You almost draw blood.

“What’s wrong?” He can tell that something is wrong. He can always tell, and you’re foolish to think anything less of him, and even more foolish to forget his super senses. A part of you bites back a bitter feeling, since you wish you could’ve had super smell, super sight, super taste, anything in exchange for your hearing. You were not given an exchange, only forced to give, with nothing in there for you.

You forget that your boyfriend has super senses and can taste and smell your salty tears and blood in the air. Damn him.

“Loud… Ringing in my ears, my tinnitus is always really bad when I don’t use my hearing aids for a while..” You say softly. “It’s just.. it really hurts...” You confess, tears slipping down your face.

“Sweetheart..” He takes off his glasses and rests them on the desk in front of him. “C’mere..” You can’t hear that last part, but the way he opens his arms gives you the hint.

You sit on his lap, burying your face in the crook of his neck with a shaky sigh. You feel the thumps of his heartbeat and hold onto it, the ringing in your ears slightly muffled by his skin. It doesn’t fix the problem, but it helps.

His hands linger on your body, gentle caresses of your knee or thigh happening here and there. He just wants you to know he’s there, in the same way he desires when everything becomes too much for him.

“”m sorry..” you say gently, and he just hushes you softly, kissing your head. He traces patterns into your skin. He traces words into it as well.

L-O-V-E.

S-W-E-E-T-H-E-A-R-T

He traces your name, his, and your last names.

You kiss him softly, realizing that you might never be 100% okay with your hearing, but Matt will help. He’ll understand. He loves you, and it’s enough to be confident in your future again.

You spend only a few minutes more in the office before you decide to head home, his hand never leaving yours.

You make it back to his apartment and Matt plugs his phone in in case you need to text him and get his attention. You wind up stealing a pair of sweatpants, a tee shirt, and a pair of fuzzy socks. The two of you wind up tangled together on his couch.

Your ear is pressed against his chest as he gently caresses your skin, occasionally moving your hair from your face. He mumbles sweet nothings, and while you can’t hear them, you feel the rumbling vibrations in his chest, and you relish in them. You bathe in the feeling of his heartbeat thumping against his skin.

You fall asleep like this, with Matt touching you and talking in this low tone to make sure you can feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest and in his throat. It’s enough just knowing he’s there. That this thing you thought would deem you unlovable is no match for Matt Murdock, who on your wedding day will throw up the sign for ‘I love you’ in ASL.

For Matt Murdock, who, when you’re taken for loving the devil, will find you and take you into his arms and kiss you so that you know he’s real.

For Matt Murdock, who touches you in all the right ways so you can hear the sounds of your own pleasure.

For Matt Murdock, who will gently trace patterns into your skin when you need to be grounded. For Matt Murdock, who feels himself slipping further and further in love with you and finds himself searching for the soft buzz of your hearing aids when you walk into the room.

#matt murdock #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murodock hurt/comfort #matt murdock angst #matt murdock imagine #daredevil fic #daredevil x reader #daredevil fanfiction #hoh!reader #hard of hearing!reader #deaf!reader #self indulgent

798 notes · View notes

patrophthia · 1 year

Text

love is sour grapes | theo. nott

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

genre: fluff, angst (if you squint), unrequited love but not really, everyone is an idiot, self indulgent, not beta read.

word count: 5.9K

originally posted on ao3 on: 06/28/2022

"Uhm— would you like to—"

He turned to me calmly, the rest of his appearance devoid of emotions.

"—go out sometimes?" I finished. "As a Date?"

One, two, three beats passes and all Theodore did was look at me. No answer. No emotions. No words. Nothing.

Or Theodore is a quiet piece of shit and that leads to miscommunication and complicated feelings

Theodore Nott. The one constant thought that has been running through my head way too often for my liking. He was handsome, quiet, smart, lanky in all the right ways and never seemed to be engaged in a conversation —or at least one where he was talking instead of just listening and listening and listening.

Talking to him had always been one of my goals, it shouldn't have, really, it shouldn't. But somehow I had found myself more than just infatuated with him.

Theodore was an observant person, if he noticed me studying him, he never confronted me about it.

But, as my friend says it, Theodore Nott is sour grapes. Or, in better words, love is sour grapes. If this even was love that is.

"I think you should just talk to him," Hermione says kindly. "I still don't think that he would be good for you but if you fancy him that much then go ahead."

"If you want a death wish that is," Ron snickered. "Honestly, can't you have picked a better guy to fancy? I mean— Nott? Of all people."

"Do you want me to fancy Malfoy instead? Would that make you happy," I quipped, hearing Hermione hide a laugh between closed lips. "Or god forbid, you."

Ron face contorted to one of offense. "I'm notthatbad."

"Yeah sure," I murmured, with no malice. And turned to Harry who had been quiet about the situation ever since he found out. "What do you think?"

Harry shrugged, looking startled. "I don't know," He said first, and then. "I think you need someone better than Nott. You're friendly and thoughtful—" he paused hesitantly. "—and you're quite awfully pretty."

"Thank you, Harry." My eyes fell downwards with no real intention. I was none of those things. "But I don't think he'd agree."

"What does it matter if he agrees," Hermione said loudly. "Harry's right. You're all of those things. It's his loss if he doesn't go out with you. You're fit, incredibly so. I would be happy if someone like you were to ever fancy me."

If Ron had a reaction to those words, neither Hermione nor Harry noticed.

"Well," I said as a group of Slytherin walked into the Potions classroom. Potions would be starting any minute now, and I needed to head into class before Snape does. "I'll keep that in mind. If all fails, I'll just have to marry you, Mione."

With a final smile, I bid them a quick goodbye and made my way into class. The three of them heading to which ever direction they needed to be.

The class quickly starts, and Snape wasted no time in assigning me a potion to make. Invigoration Draught. The potion that energizes the drinker. How fun.

The ingredients were mostly easy to obtain. Peppermint, Honeywater, Stewed Mandrake then there's Dried billywig sting: my biggest nightmare.

I was only so tall and the shelves where the ingredients were stored stood so so high. I would've used a stool had it been free to use, but a Slytherin had already been occupying it and it would be rude if I were to take it away from them.

There was a cough behind my back, and then, a hand reached; over me and towards the exact thing I needed. Dried billywig sting: my new biggest enemy.

The person pulled back —jar filled with billywig in hand, and stood still as I turned to them. The jar had a decent amount of billywig in it, if they needed it I could still manage to ask for just enough for my potion. That is if they were kind enough to let me have some.

"Could I—" I paused mid-turn. There stood Theodore Nott in all his glory. Dark eyes, dark hair and facial features that looked like every part of him was chosen by Aphrodite herself, watching me with a raised eyebrow. "—uhm, could I have a few of those? I needed it for my potion but I couldn't reach it."

Theodore blinked once, looking unfazed and handed the jar over.

I blinked twice the time he did, opening up the jar; intending on taking out a few and handing it back over when he stopped me.

"I don't need it."

His voice.

"You don't?" I find myself asking, trying not to breathe too loud or to forget how to even breathe in the first place.

Theodore shook his head once. And reached up for something else. Had he seen me struggle and had gotten it just for me?

"Thank you," I tell him. Theodore nodded once, accepting it as it is. I think you should just talk to him. Goddamn it, Granger. "Uhm— would you like to—"

He turned to me calmly, the rest of his appearance devoid of emotions.

"—go out sometimes?" I finished. "As a Date?"

One, two, three beats passes and all Theodore did was look at me. No answer. No emotions. No words. Nothing.

Whether he was scrutinizing me or not, I didn't know. What I do know is that I was wrong and stupid. And my friends were wrong too.

He needed more than me. I might be friendly and kind and maybe quite awfully pretty. But Theodore needed more than me.

"You know what." I cleared my throat, smiling. "Forget I said anything. Have a good day, Nott."

•••

I had been down lately. My friends noticed that. Even Harry and Ron noticed it and they were as daft as they come. Whenever they asked me what was wrong I find myself telling them that I was just stressed over my O.W.Ls.

Which I was. But it was mostly a lie to cover up something I was more upset about. I had idiotically asked Theodore out and now I have to face the consequences of being rejected.

I think —in some ways— him having not even say 'no' or have given a clearer answer was more upsetting then if he had just said no out loud.

It was stupid of me to get my hopes up and think that anything else would've happened. It was stupid for me to even think I was in his league.

It was also late. I hated walking back to the common rooms in these hours but it was my fault for procrastinating my essay until the night before it was due so I had to rush the entire thing in an hour in the library. I had only hoped that Umbridge wouldn't punish me for being out pass curfew.

I had one more hall left to turn before I reached the Hufflepuff's barrels when someone shouted out my surname, halting me in my place.

Fast pace footsteps approached and then, donning from head to toe in pink was Umbridge. Fuck.

"What do you think you're doing out of your dorm at this time?" She asked quickly, her toad like face twitching with irritation.

"I was in the library and lost track off time," I quickly confessed. "I'm so sorry. My dorm's close by and I—"

"It was my fault professor." His voice. "I’d asked for her help and lost track of time. She was trying to head back before curfew but it seems like her efforts were to no avail. I can only hope you would excuse her and blame me for my faults."

Umbridge looked baffled. He talked? Theodore talked? She made that annoying noise that she can't seemed to get rid off. "Well." her voice laced with false kindness.

"I see no point in deducting any points." She then turned to me. "But I will be expecting to see you tomorrow for separating yourself from help at a time as late as this. Merlin knows, it's dangerous for a girl to wander alone at this time."

"Just me?" I asked, slightly confused.

Her eyes flashed with annoyance. "Do you expect Mister Nott here to be punished for wanting to make sure you got back to your dorm safe?"

That wasn’t what he— okay. Fine. Whatever.

"Now, go off," she said with a wave of her hand. "And Theodore, would you be so kind as to walk her back? I don't want to know the troubles she might cause when I let her out my sight."

Theodore nodded, doing as he was told and took a step forward. He looked behind his shoulders, his eyes meeting mine and tilted his head slightly: signaling that we should leave now before it gets worse.

I avoided Umbridge's eyes and stepped forward, trailing after Theodore. Detention. All because I was too lazy to finish my essay any other time I had.

I think I feel my eyes water. I think it feels harder to breathe. I don't know for sure how I feel exactly despite dejected and disappointed with myself.

If I had just made one different choice, I wouldn't have to have detention with the one professor known to physically harm the students. And to top it off, being walked back to my common room by the boy who recently rejected me whilst bottling up my feelings about everything I did wrong.

"You don't have to actually walk me back." I paid no heed to the crack of my voice. Theodore does though. "It's late." I pointed out the obvious. "You should go."

Theodore glanced at me quickly. His look was so quick that I suspected he had planned to only spare me a second of his time. But something about me, something about how vulnerable I must've looked, had him pausing.

"I shouldn't." He said slowly, his tone so attentively that it made me think that he had saw something in me that I never did. "I can't leave you."

"You can." I don't think I can handle being near him any longer, not when he was studying me so cautiously. "It's only a few steps away, I can assure you I'll be fine."

Theodore eyes flickered down the corridor quickly, finally tearing themselves away from me and looked forward, continuing towards the direction of my common room.

When we finally reached where we needed to be. Theodore stood back watching as I tapped the barrels carefully.

I looked over my shoulder once the path opens up. Smiling slightly when I found his eyes on me. "Thank you for taking the blame, Theo. You didn't have to and you did and spared me way too many house points. I really appreciate it."

He made a noise of acknowledgment, taking my word as it is. And then, as he was about to step away. "Goodnight."

•••

I think I hate life. I might be wrong but life sucks. Especially when you have to repeatedly write the same sentence over and over again with a magic quill that tears through your skin.

That can't have been a legal source of punishment but Umbridge made the rules so it was no use fighting her about it.

My hand hurts. Holy fuck, does it hurt. I don't even have to glance down at it for me to see my skin burning red, bleeding slightly. Curved out in the sentence. I will not be out pass curfew.

"You alright there?" Came a voice.

I looked up quick and abruptly, sure that I'll get whiplash from my actions; to find George Weasley watching me with interest. I smiled, subconsciously hiding away my hand. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" He followed up. "You don't look too good."

I nodded, trying to look as reassuring as possible. "I'm fine, just got a paper cut is all."

He fixes me a look of disbelief but let it slides. "You should go," he said with a small smile. "I think Ron's looking for you? Something about slimey snakes and what not."

"Oh." The sound slipped out. "Thank you, I'll go find him."

It was weird to see George without Fred but I decided that I didn't want to know why. They were probably setting up a prank and I had walked right through it.

Bidding George a goodbye. I continued down the corridor, turned the corridor and found the trio standing by with Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott by their sides. This can't be good.

Is this what George referred to when he said Ron was looking me about some slimey snakes?

"There she is," Malfoy said with mild annoyance. "We've been looking for you."

"You have?" My eyes drifted to Hermione but she only shrugged, looking as clueless as I was. "Why?"

Malfoy took a steps towards me. "You've been with Professor Umbridge?"

"Yes." I nodded. "Why?"

"Did she give you the quill?"

What was he playing at? Why was he interrogating me? "Yes." I repeated. "Why?"

Zabini rolled his eyes and step up, seemingly having enough of Malfoy's dramatics. "Here." He handed out a bottle. "It's Murtlap essence. Suppose to help you with the cuts. Nott made it for you."

"He did?" I asked, taking the bottle of Murtlap essence from Zabini's hand. I turned to look at Theodore, finding his eyes glued to my bleeding hand that was grasping the bottle. Jerking my hand back, I smiled, thanking him. "Thank you for this, I really appreciate and for uhm— thanks again for covering for me last night."

Everyone —all but Theodore and I— brows raised upwards, surprised. So they didn't know about what had happened last night.

Theodore showed no outwards reaction, having just watch me with a straight face and patient eyes. Then he turned to Zabini and tilted his head slightly. Zabini seemingly understood, slapped a hand over Malfoy's shoulder and with a goodbye, steered the blond boy away.

"Bloody hell," Ron said exasperatedly. "Did that really happen?"

"Nott made you Murtlap essence?" Hermione asked more to herself than anyone else. "How did he even know you needed it?"

"I—" I stopped, glancing at my hand. "—I was out pass curfew and Umbridge caught me. Nott took the blame for it. I think Umbridge was too surprised with hearing him talk to properly acknowledge that he too was out of the dorms pass curfew. She said she won't take away any house points but gave me detention as a punishment."

"That's all?" Hermione said. "Why would Nott take the fall for it and then proceed to make Murtlap essence for you if there wasn't anything in it for him?"

"I don't know," I told her, shrugging. "He also walked me back to my common room and wouldn't leave me when I insisted otherwise."

"Do you think." Ron started. "Maybe that Nott fancies you?"

"No." I was quick to shake my head in disagreement. "He's doesn't. He's made that clear already."

"He has?" Harry asked loudly, brows knitted together.

"Yeah," I murmured. "That day I talked to the three of you. I asked him during class if maybe we could go out on a date sometimes and he didn't say anything. Not a yes. Not a no. Nothing."

"That's terrible," said Hermione sympathetically. "Honestly, what kind of person rejects someone then proceed to do things as if they cared for them."

"Hermione," said Harry cautiously, eyes shifting between me and her. "I don't think that does anything to soothe her nerves."

"Sorry." Hermione blinked in realization. "It's just— you deserve better. I don't understand a thing Nott's doing and I don't want you to get hurt in the process."

"He could be figuring out his feelings," Ron suggested making Hermione shoot a sharp glare his direction. Ron tsked. "I'm just pointing it out."

"Well it's not helping." Hermione said in an obvious tone. Her eyes drifted down to my hand, scanning the words then looked back up. "I think you should head back and take care of your hand. You don't want it to scar now, do you?"

I nodded, waving. "I'll see you at dinner?"

Hermione let out an agreeing hum and went on her way, Ron pestering her from behind. Harry hadn't moved though, looking at me with furrowed brows. "Could I maybe have some of your Murtlap essence?"

"Yeah." I handed it over. "I didn't know you had to endure Umbridge as well."

"Didn't think it was important to mention." He pulled out an empty ink pot from his bag and twisted it open, pouring just enough essence to not overflow it. Harry put the cap back on and handed it back over. "Don't tell Hermione or Ron, will you? I don't want to be a bother."

" 'course." I smiled. "I won't tell anyone."

•••

What are the chances that I get caught being out pass curfew twice in the same week. Pretty fucking high because I was once again being called out late at night.

Two sets of foot steps stops before me and it took me roughly five seconds to realize just how grave the situation was. Draco Malfoy stood tall and smug with Hannah Abott by his side looking tired —if a little irritated by Malfoy's presence.

"What are you doing out, badger?" Malfoy asked.

"I was heading back from the kitchens." Malfoy made a face and glanced down at my outfit that looked way too overdressed to be heading down to the kitchens.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." It was clear that I was caught in a lie. Goddamn you, Radiohead concert. "I must've lost track of time."

Hannah looked like she wanted to say something but bit her tongue. Not wanting any of her words to be counted as it being biased just because I was her dorm mate.

And then, as I waited to hear Malfoy state just how many points he wanted to take away from my house. He said with annoyance, "you can go." Unfazed to the look of surprise that showed up on both mine and Hannah's faces. "Tell Nott he owes me one."

•••

I don't think my head could —or will ever fully comprehend "tell Nott he owes me one." I don't know why exactly but that sentence feels way more ominous than it ought to be.

ott does not owe him anything for letting me go.

And I don't think I owe Nott anything for helping me be let go? maybe I could've phrased that better. What I meant to say is that: I owe Nott nothing for his friend's behavior towards me. At least I don't think I do.

But things works in mysterious way. Like how —despite how ironic I find it— Nott always find out a way to help me out during potions. Especially when it came to the ingredients.

Though that was the least of my concerns right now. My concern, for now, is revolved between the three books in my hand that I can't decide —for the life of me— which one to buy.

On other occasions I would buy all three and went about my day but I had only brought enough money for one book and food for the rest of the day at Hogsmeade, and my friend didn't seem like they'd be heading back to Hogwarts for extra cash any time soon.

I looked over my options once more, trying to figure out which one would be the bang of my buck.

Option one: All Or Nothing, a novel about a girl trying to navigate relationships with the people she surrounded herself with and see whether they would react differently when she gave them her all, and then; how they would react when she gave them nothing. 863 pages.

Option two: Glimpse Of Us, a novel about a boy who always —and I mean always, sees his ex in the girls he dates after her. 295 pages.

Option three: Listen boy, a cheesy novel about a girl who had little to no interest when it comes to going on dates with guys but when her roommate compliments her on the socks she wore, she finds herself wanting to do nothing but go on dates with them. 530 pages.

Both Glimpse Of Us and All Or Nothing seems like sad book. Maybe it's time for me to find some joy in my life —which seems to seize to exist after whatever happened between me Nott happened. As I turned, intending to put those two books back in their respective places. I was more than surprise to find Nott looking at me with a slight fascinated tilt to his head.

“Which is it?”

"Hmm?" I find myself humming. Should I pick All Or Nothing instead? Wouldn't that make me seem more intelligent than a book about a girl being in love with her roommate.

"Which one have you chose?" He clarified, and I might've imagined it —no I definitely did because, Theodore Nott's lips did not just curve up at all.

"This one." I lifted up whatever was in my right hand which just happens to be Listen boy. And there goes sounding more intelligent in front of Theodore. "It seems cute."

"Is that all?" He followed up and it's then that I realize he was wearing a forest green that had no reasons to make him look as good as it did. Green really was his colour. "Nothing more?"

"No." I shook my head. "Ideally I would like two get these two as well," I told him truthfully. "But I only brought enough for one —technically two, if I stretched it out but that would mean no snacks for the rest of the day so it's a no."

"I'll get it for you then," he says casually. Like it's something you say to someone you recently rejected. Like he was walking around, waiting for someone to tell him that they haven't brought enough cash for the other books they wanted. "Would you like anything else? I am more than willing to indulge you."

"No, I don't." I stop myself. Yes, I mean. Because I really did want other books, especially if someone else was paying for it but I know that my poor heart cannot handle it.

It is already breaking apart at how handsome he looked with his forest green jumper and black ironed pants. His hair, a usual dark brown, just the slightest tinge brighter under the sunlight (which is both a sight for sore eye and a rare view since I only ever see him in the dungeons, hunched over a bubbling pot and disgusting lightings) which flatters him in all the best way possible.

And no, my heart is not picking up a million paces over I am more than willing to indulge you in that very tone of voice, in that very set of clothes, in very set of lighting, by that very Slytherin that I could not seem to get over.

"You don't have to," I insisted, trying to not shiver under his gaze. He narrows his eyes and it says way more than words could ever say. He knows he doesn't, he wants to. Oh lord save me. "Maybe this one? It's cheaper."

"That was not my question," he said curtly. "I asked you if you'd like anything else, not which option was cheaper."

What are we even talking about now? Was he planning on buying me the three books in my hands and more or was he planning on letting me pay for my choice then pay for the others I couldn't afford.

Is my face that much of an open book? Because, without even having to say it. Theodore had already answered my questions for me. "I'll buy you the three in your hands and anymore you'd like. I'd buy you the whole store if you wanted me to."

I think I'm having a heart attack. Or dreaming. Or both. I can't tell. Maybe I'm dreaming while having a heart attack? Who knows. All I know is that Theodore Nott did not just say that. Did he?

"No." I shake my head quickly, maybe even too quickly. "No, I— these three are more than enough. I promise to pay you back when we get back to school."

Theodore fixes me a look. One ridiculing me to the point that I wished —more than anything— that I was a bludger being hit so hard I pass through the most oblivious of oblivions. I'm so sure that that would be less stressful.

"I mean it!" I press all three books to my side. "I promise, and I always keep my promise. I won't take advantage of your money, I will get it and find you as soon as I—"

I didn't see the point in finishing my words because he was smiling. And laughing. I think. It's a mixture of those two and it's so heavenly that I believe in everything ethereal alike.

Theodore noticed my silence, the side of his lips curved the slightest bit (so so small and tiny that you couldn't even spot it), looking at me with clearly amused eyes. And then, "did you not hear me?"

"What?" The words slipped out easily.

"I told you I'd buy you the whole store if you'd like and you think I'd want my money back?" He said slowly. "I couldn't care less about the money. I just wanted to make you happy. Salazar knows, I've made you upset more often than I could count between my fingers."

Now what the fuck was he on about. He has never made me upset —save for rejecting me that one time, but I understood it, he didn't like me, that's that. I have gotten over. I think. But I'm more than sure that I could count that one event between his ten fingers.

Unless Theodore only had one finger? Does he? I cast a glance down to his hands and there are those ten fingers. Ten exactly. Not one short or one more. Ten and a couple of silver bands that made me want to do nothing but sit and stare at his long, pale, slim fingers. And how they would feel around my— nope, nope. Absolute not.

"Merlin, we leave Nott alone and he goes around trying to find his girlfriend." Girlfriend?

When the owner of the voice, Zabini, finally arrives before me and Theodore, I was no where near surprised to see the other Slytherins in their group by his side.

Parkinson. Malfoy. And finally, Greengrass —whom I was actually friends with.

"Well?" Zabini muttered, eyes shifting between me and Theodore, and then landing on him solely. "Are the pair of you planning on standing here the whole day?"

"No," I said with narrowed eyes. "I don't know what he's doing here, I'm just trying to buy a book."

Zabini raised a brow. "Is that all, princess?"

"Pretty much." This feels like a trap. Is this a trap? "Are you planning on going somewhere with Theo?"

"Theo," Zabini tsked with a smirk. "I've never once called him that and I've known him for about five year now. How cute is that."

Yep. This is definitely a trap. I think I'm going to die now.

Theodore, with a roll of his eyes, made his way to my side and pried at the books pressed to my waist. Confused, and a little daze at the warmth of his fingers grazing my hip, I let go of the three books and watched him with wide eyes.

He seemed (and looked) unaffected by how everyone eyes were now on him. Walking around and picking another set of the exact books I'd picked out. Theodore paid for them without a word, asking for separate bags and handed a set over to me.

And then, quietly he says. "Zabini's an idiot." He smiled a winsome one and I am so sure I'm dying and this —whatever this was— is just a figment of my imagination that my brain curated during my dying breath. "I like it. Don't ever stop calling me Theo."

•••

Blaise Zabini is trying to be matchmaker. I'm sure of it. Or else he wouldn't be bothering me as much as he did now. I can't seem to peacefully spend time in the library without being interrupted by him.

"Hello," he greeted, smiling as he sat opposing me. I raised an eyebrow and he was able to read me quick enough, telling me the reason he was here. "Just wanted to let you know that Nott finished those three novels he bought and he's looking for someone to talk it over with a cup of tea —or coffee, whichever one you prefer."

Is he implying what I think he's implying? "Why is that any of my concerns."

"I thought you might be interested." He shrugged. "Since you know, you fancy Nott and all."

"I don't fancy Nott." I told him. An obvious lie, and Zabini knew that too. "And he doesn't fancy me so it's just a waste of time."

"Nott doesn't fancy you?" He's laughing. He's actually laughing. What was so funny about the truth? "What makes you think that?"

"He literally turns me down I when I asked him out," I said blankly. "It's pretty clear, isn't it?"

"And what exactly did he say?" Zabini asked playfully, as if he was humoring me.

"Nothing," I answered. "He just looked at me and said nothing, I don't think I need anything else to tell me that it's an obvious no."

"Nothing?" Zabini repeated with a grin. "Have you heard of being speechless? Or better yet, you know Nott doesn't really speak right?"

"That doesn't excuse him saying nothing when I asked him to go on a date," I countered.

"It doesn't," Zabini concurred. "But Nott's an idiot." Funny, Theodore said the exact same thing about Blaise. "Did you know Nott did Malfoy's work for a week without complain just because he let you go that one time you snuck out?"

No. I don't say. Malfoy did say Nott owe him one but I hadn't thought it important. "What does that have anything to do with what you were talking about?"

"Because," he says exaggeratedly. "Nott fancies you back. I suspected that he liked you since third year though he won't admit it. He won't even admit that he fancies you now but he's incredibly easy to read."

I shut my book and looked at him. Really looked at him. Trying to gauge whether he was messing with me or telling the truth. "What am I supposed to do with this information?"

"Ask him out again," he suggested lightly. "Give him another chance for being the biggest twat there is."

"And have him reject me again?"

"He won't," Zabini says calmly. "He'd burn the entire school down before even thinking of rejecting you."

I hesitate. "I don't want to embarrass myself again."

"You won't," he says with a roll his eyes. "Look I know being rejected is hard, I think I get it. I've never been rejected before. But I also know that the both of you like each other just as much and it's getting tiring seeing you beat around the bush."

"Nott won't make the first move. He thinks you hate him now for not answering when you ask so you'd have to ask again —if you still want to be with him that is. Do you? Or else I've been doing all this for nothing."

Yes. I think. I'm pretty sure that I want to be with him. "Do you know where he is?"

"Oh," Zabini said delightedly. "He's actually coming here right now. I told him I was coming to find you but never gave him a reason why. He'd be here any —speaking of the devil. Hello, Theo."

Theodore doesn't bother to return his greeting. Eyes heavily set on Zabini in a glare that had me shivering just from the side lines. Then his eyes turn to me and his glare on hardens.

"Hi, Theo." I don't think I've ever since Theodore like this before. "What are you doing here?"

"What did he do?" He asked instead.

"Nothing," I said quickly. "He did nothing. We just talked."

"About?"

"Stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Yes. Stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Oh you know," I huffed. "The weather. Coffee. You."

"Me?"

"Yes." My lips fold itself into a thin line. "Actually Theo. Could I ask you something?"

His gaze softens when he nods.I am more than willing to indulge you.I am so sure now, more than ever, that love really is sour grapes.

"Uhm— would you like to—"

His eyes widened, large as saucers as he processed in my words.

"—go out sometimes?" I finished. "As a Date?"

One, two, three beats passes and all Theodore did was look at me. No answer. No emotions. No words. Nothing. And I am briefly reminded of everything that happened.

And then, "yes," he says. "Yes, I would."

•••

Theodore really did read those books he bought me. This I knew now as I sat under the sun on one of Hogsmeade many benches with Theo to my left.

This part of Hogsmeade was quiet, it wasn't too far from the shops but far enough for no one to frequent by. A few people passed by trying to move from destination to destination but none noticed the bench wedge into the middle of the place where two fifth years were sat, talking about everything and anything under the moon and stars.

"So you liked it? You liked 'Listen, boy'?"

"I did." He was smiling and I wished more than anything that I'd had a camera to capture every smile he had given me during the pass hours. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes," I laugh and his smile widens. "It just doesn't seem like you. It's a cheesy and corny book and you're always so dark and broody about everything."

"I'm not dark and broody about everything," he denied.

"You are!" I countered. "You were even dark and broody when I'd first asked you out."

"That's 'cause I didn't know what to say," he says truthfully. "You could've said yes, that would've made it easy for the both of us," I told him. "I really couldn't. You don't deserve just a yes. You deserved everything, not something so simple."

"But that yes would've made my week, Theo."

Theo looked like he was about to say something before he changed his mind. "I'm sorry I didn't say yes when you'd first asked me. Could you ever forgive me?"

I want to kiss him until his lips, his skin, his hands, his scent, every tiny bit of him is imprinted in my mind. "Yes." I say. "Yes, I think I could."

Theodore chuckled, his nose crinkling at the motion and something between that laugh and smile of his causes me to lose it.

My hand reached forward first, palm pressing against his cheek, pulling him closer to me and pressed my lips onto his. I kissed him once then as I reached to pull away; I find that both of his hands had found their way to my cheeks, holding me still as he kissed me back.

Theodore pulled back, the tiniest of smile on his lips that had the smallest smudge of my lipstick attached to it. And he tells me, as if he had been thinking of this for days, years, lifetimes. "You are the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

And when I smiled, Theo leans back in. Peppering quick kisses on my lips, my nose, my cheeks, my forehead, anywhere I would let him kiss me; he will cherish it.

Once Theo finally pulls back —and this was for real this time, no more quick kisses. He looks at me and I know deep down that he will be the death of me when he says. "You are going to be the death of me."

— from bee: the thing about theo is that we know nothing about him so you can’t say that this is ooc :>

#theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #Spotify #🧳: my writing

3K notes · View notes

pray4byron · 2 months

Note

Hey Mio-!!! I know your reqs are closed rn so I'm really just leaving this here so I don't forget the idea, but I saw a tiktok that inspired meee and I was thinking what ab a reader who accidentally confesses to Vox/the hazbin people when drunk and based on their reactions maybe thinks they're turning the reader down but they aren't oki bye bye have a good weekend!!!

-🍂anon

𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐰 + 𝐯𝐞𝐞𝐬 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

a/n: hello 🍂anon!! i’m so sorry i kept you waiting on this, i couldn’t stop procrastinating it 😭😭 also i’m sorry if vox seems more mean then normal, i feel like i’ve been writing him too victim-y and at the end of the day he’s an asshole too and i tried to show that. but i hope you enjoy!!

warnings: mentions of alcohol/being drunk/drinking/etc, profanity, mentions of sex (no smut), vox being a bit of an asshole <;/3

proofread: HAH! no. (heh, your loss) someone tell me you got that reference 😭😭

including: charlie, vaggie, angel dust, husk, lucifer, vox

tags: hazbin hotel, fanfiction, x reader

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞

girl is flabbergasted. i mean, she’s always heard the term ‘drunk words are sober thoughts’ or something like that, but she’s surprised you would say that to begin with — true or not.

but obviously, she feels romantically about you, so if it wasn’t true and it was just something you blurted out whilst drunk, she’s gonna be a bit upset

so she tells you, if you really feel that way, you can tell her when you’re sober, and she puts you to bed :)

𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞

she can only maintain her calmness for so long until she simply loses her composure, she’s not good at hiding her true feelings and/or thoughts for an extensive period of time

vaggie makes sure you get to bed safe, but she doesn’t bring up until you’re fully sober, she wants your recovery from your hangover to be stress-free and relaxing — not anything that could make you distraught

although, she may or may not dote on you a little extra the next morning…

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭

angel knows what it’s like to say something you weren’t ready to whilst under the influence, he’s done it more times then he’s willing to admit

so he’s (as sweetly as he can be) stern about being 100% sober whilst making decisions to blurt this kinda stuff out

deep down, angel knows it’s true, he knows you wouldn’t lie to him about smth like that, drunk or not — but he can’t help but in awe in a way

like he’s a famous pornstar, you don’t love him for his money or body or looks, you love him for being anthony, and not angel dust, and he’s simply not used to it

𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐤

husker is a bartender, he’s heard everything in the book, exceeeept someone drunkenly confessing to him while he’s serving them drinks after a shitty night

it’s safe to say… he’s cautious, he’s seen a lot of drunk people do a lot of dumb shit, so he’s unsure if confession is as sincere as it can be

first, he wants to make sure you’re in the right mind before he even thinks before saying he feels the same, he’s been hurt a couple times, and he’s not ready to go through that again, whether he admits it or not

it’ll probably take him a few days until he brings it up, he’s the kinda guy who wants to reflect before making big decisions

𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫

honestly, lucifer is probably the most shocked out of all them, after being divorced for seven years, possibly more, the guy eventually thought he was gonna be forever alone, especially considering he’s the literal king of hell

the thought of that you’re drunk and may not know what you’re getting into doesn’t even cross his mind, he’s had few interactions with women tbh, and most of them were mainly sexual (like with adam’s wives)

so he gets all giddy and happy and accepts your confession immediately ! it doesn’t hit him until a few months into your relationship that he probably should’ve waited until you were sober LOL

𝐯𝐨𝐱

vox, like angel, has never had someone genuinely confess their love to him. he’s had an on-and-off sexual relationship with valentino and gotten creepy love letters from fans — but that’s about it

honestly, as shitty as it he can’t help but take advantage of your drunken state, just slightly.

he sorta feeds into any praise you give him, and will lowkey force it out of you, his ego needs to be fed and it’s only getting started

let’s be real, vox isn’t the most perfect guy around, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t hold a soft spot for you, although, at this point, a solid relationship cannot be promised :(

i do not permit for my work to be reposted, translated, or stolen. all rights go to signedmio. characters are not mine, unless stated, and belong to their rightful creators.

357 notes · View notes

87kelce · 4 months

Text

—can we please get back to loving?

summary: you knew the term exclusive was never something travis would ever use when it comes to your relationship. but you seemed to be the only one he called when he wanted someone around.

warnings: angst, smut (18+ only, no minors), arguments, slow sex, riding, pussy eating, spooning

word count: 2660

notes: title taken from the song written all over your face by louis tomlinson. not proofread so if there's any mistakes i apologise. again likes and reblogs are very much appreciated 🫶

You never seemed to get a moments peace at night anymore. You knew better than to answer his calls, however the majority of the time, he was already waiting outside to be let in. But you just couldn't deny how good the sex was. He's barely doing anything and you're coming undone beneath him every time, his soft lips and wandering hands doing wonders on your body.

But then there were times he called and it wasn't for sex. He'd maybe just lost a game and he needs a pick me up, so he calls you. You talk for hours until he hears you yawning and then he thanks you for calming him down and tells you to get some rest. He also apologises for rambling on and keeping you awake for so long, but you tell him it's fine and you'd rather sit up and talk to him if it meant he was ok. You're always worried about him after a loss, he always blames himself for not doing enough and it hurts you that he feels that way.

Then you invited yourself over to his place one day, and he gladly let you in. You knew he had a game the next day so there was no chance of having sex, but at least you could help him focus on the game. He seemed to be in a good mood—he was making you laugh, you were watching TV together and you, slowly but surely, were falling for him. You were falling for the way his eyes practically disappeared when he laughed, falling for the way he always looked at you like you were the only thing in the room, falling for the way he kissed you softly and gently, falling for the way he felt so comfortable around you all the time.

But it was never exclusive, you knew he didn't want that. You were just there for a hook up and to hang out sometimes. If you didn't stop the whole ordeal, you were afraid you might get too attached and he won't reciprocate those same feelings. So you started ignoring his calls, and when he'd text you and ask what's wrong, you make up lies.

I'm too tired. I'm not feeling great. I've got friends over.

But he knew you better than that. After the third excuse he just invited himself over, making up his own excuse of I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And you knew better than to invite him in. But now he's on your couch, flicking through the channels on your TV, completely making himself at home.

"Why didn't you want to be exclusive with me?"

"Hm?"

Travis turned to face you, eyebrows raised. He clearly hadn't heard you, too focused on the TV and you just sighed.

"Why didn't you want to be exclusive with me?"

"Let's not discuss that.. I don't want to start a fight."

"Was I the only girl you were seeing?"

"Don't.."

"I want you to be honest with me."

He sighed, switching off the TV and getting up, walking to the kitchen. He opened your fridge and grabbed a water bottle, taking a sip before coming back to the couch. But he didn't say anything, just sat there in silence before he took his phone out and started scrolling through it.

"Travis.."

"I'm just.. I don't know."

"Is it me? Is it something I've done?"

"No."

You just sighed, getting up and going to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you and flopping onto your bed, crying into your pillow. He's like a completely different person now, compared to the person he was last week, laughing with you on the phone and being so sweet and kind to you. You're just waiting and hoping he knocks on your door, apologises and sweeps you off your feet again, like a knight in shining armour. But you're pretty sure he couldn't care less, and honestly, you're not even sure why he invited himself over in the first place. If he was worried about you, he could've called. You don't know why he was so adamant about being here with you, but not actually being with you.

After one of his games, he gave you an old jersey and you still kept it under your pillow, claiming it helped you sleep better. You reached under and grabbed it, bunching it up and cuddling it. Maybe if you hadn't tried to push him away, he might still be the nice Travis you knew two weeks ago. You kept blaming yourself, putting yourself at fault for everything between you and him, until a knock at your door startled you. You wiped your eyes, getting up and opening it.

"You okay? I was gonna check on you when you slammed the door but.. thought I'd give you some space."

"I'm fine, you can go home if you want."

"That movie you like is on, wanna watch it?"

"Just.. go home."

"I can't go home, not when you're like this."

"I said I'm fine."

"You're not."

He's being pushy but he needs to be, he needs to get you to admit that you're not okay. He knows you better than yourself sometimes and you just roll your eyes, pushing past him to sit on the couch, watching the movie starting. He threw his head back and sighed, but just as he tilted his head back and went to turn and follow you, he noticed the jersey. He remembers giving it to you, smiling when you immediately put it on and twirled round in it. Truthfully, although he won't admit it, that was the first moment he fell in love with you.

He walks into your room, grabbing the jersey before going back to sit with you on the couch. He just throws it down on the middle section of the couch, before sitting down and turning to look at you.

"You keep it on your bed?"

"Under my pillow.."

He just smiled, still watching you until you smiled back at him. He was almost magnetic, pulling you right back into him whenever he could. You let him in so easily and you know you shouldn't.

But then he's pulling you onto his lap, his mouth on your neck, lips soft against your skin. Your hands move up to the back of his neck, fingers scratching gently at the nape of his neck.

"Trav.."

"Shh.. feels good right?"

You just nodded, eyes closing shut.

"Then let it happen.."

As you pulled back slightly, his head tilted, lips moving to the other side of your neck. You felt like you were spinning, feeling all dizzy when he kissed you, ultimately making you forget you were mad at him in the first place. Then you remember he has practice again tomorrow, and it's important.

"We can't do this.. not tonight."

He ignores you at first, kissing along your collarbone and you have to push yourself away from him so he looks up at you.

"Listen to me.. we can't do this.."

"You still mad at me?"

"No, but you have practice again tomorrow."

He just sighs, hands fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt. It then hits you that he probably came here just to have sex, his excuse of making sure you were okay was just a lie. You push off him completely, sliding to sit next to him on the couch. But one of his hands is still on your waist, thumb circling gently on your skin.

"I need you to be genuinely honest with me, okay?"

"Okay.."

"Did you come over here for just a hookup?"

"No. You just.. kept avoiding me and I wanted to make sure you were alright."

You stood up from the couch, starting to pace around the room. Sure, he's cared about you but you just can't seem to figure out why he came over to make sure you were alright. He always just calls you, talking your ear off for hours on end and making you laugh to forget about why you were ever upset in the first place.

"I can't keep just having sex. But you don't want to be exclusive with me."

"You want the truth?"

"Please."

"I think you're so fucking cool. I get so happy when you answer my calls, those conversations we have are the one thing I look forward to on my off days. I push all these feelings down because I'm fucking terrified, my work is hectic and I.. I just don't want you to get overwhelmed by it all."

He had sat up now, head facing the ground after he spoke. You slowly sat down, one of your hands reaching for his.

"I remember giving you that jersey.. the way you got all giddy and excited when you put it on. I.."

You squeezed his hand gently and he turned his head to look at you. Then he sat back and once again, pulled you into his lap.

"Ever since then.. I can't stop thinking about you. It's just.. the travelling for away games, you wouldn't be with me for a few days and—"

"Trav.."

He looked into your eyes, feeling your hands cup his cheeks.

"I can handle a few days without you every so often.."

"Are you sure?"

You just smiled, kissing his forehead.

"I'm sure."

You let go of his face as he pulled you in against him, his forehead resting against the side of your neck. Everything felt so heavy with him before, but you didn't know that it was all on him. You had doubts that if you told him how you felt, that he wouldn't reciprocate those same feelings. There was no way you could've predicted him actually being in love with you. Especially with the sex, but now, as he moved his head back and kissed you softly on your neck, he could be sweet and gentle with you.

He moved his hands to your waist, shuffling forward on the couch before standing up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Walking you to the bedroom, you dropped your head to his shoulder, tilting your head to kiss the side of his neck. You unwrapped your legs from his waist when you felt the bed dip beneath you as he lay you down. One of his hands fumbled with your shorts as the other bunched your shirt up, his fingers brushing over your nipple, making you gasp slightly.

His head was resting against your stomach, lips leaving lingering kisses all over your skin, and you couldn't help but watch him, eyes closed and savouring every moment with you. He had managed to wiggle your shorts and underwear off, and now his mouth was kissing the inside of your thighs. You were still looking down at him when he flashed his eyes up at you, his mouth hovering over your core. He moved your left leg over his shoulder, while he pushed at the back of your thigh on your right leg, keeping it open. The hand that wasn't holding your leg open, wrapped around your other leg, trying to keep you in place while he buried his head between your legs. He could feel you squirming underneath him and almost anticipated your movements, his head moving in time with you.

You threw your head back when he delved his tongue inside, mouth still attached to your folds. Again, he flashed his eyes up at you, grinning when he saw you slightly arch your back up off the sheets. He licked through your folds a couple more times, before you reached one hand down, pushing against his forehead.

"Trav.. please.. too much.."

But he didn't stop, he just pushed his tongue deeper, licking faster, your whines and moans only egging him on further. But just as he knew you were close, he pulled away, reaching down and wiping his face with the hem of his t-shirt. He then shrugged your leg off his shoulder and stood up in between your legs.

"You close?"

"Mmph.. mmhm.."

You slowly opened your eyes, watching him walk round the bed, before sitting down and patting his thighs. You slowly turned over, crawling up the bed and swinging your leg over his thighs. When his hands found your waist, he smiled up at you, brushing your hair out your face.

"There's my girl.."

You just blushed, lowering yourself down and hiding your face in his neck.

"Does my girl wanna come?"

"Please?"

He reached behind you and pulled at his shorts, dragging them off. He returned his focus to you, realising still how sensitive you already were and started to move his hands up and down your sides, squeezing gently and almost trying to massage you. While his hands were occupied, you lifted yourself onto your knees slightly, reaching down between both your bodies and adjusting yourself onto him, sinking down and sighing into his shoulder when he was fully inside.

"Take it easy, baby.. nice and slow."

You were feeling so overwhelmed that you couldn't move much, rather just grinding against him. His hands on your waist made you move, lifting you off him slightly before pushing you back down. His lips were kissing your neck, softly and sweetly, and you could feel him smiling against your skin.

Since he had basically eaten you out to almost orgasm earlier, it didn't take long before you let go against him, mumbling out that you were close.

"Let go.. I got you.."

You sighed out in relief, legs slightly trembling around him as he shh'd and cooed at you. He gave you a few languid thrusts himself to ride you through it and over it, before you felt him grunt in your ear. He was close and although you were still sensitive and still coming down from your own high, you wanted to help him get to his. Grinding your hips down onto him, he threw his head back against the pillow, eyes screwed shut and his mouth open.

"Unless you want me to come inside you, you better get off my dick.."

You pulled off him and heard him sigh against your neck, dropping his head back to your shoulder. He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a tissue, cleaning himself up. You then slid off him, laying down on the bed, feeling him drag his shorts back on before laying down behind you, arm wrapping around your waist.

"I hate when we fight.."

"I know, baby.. but if we hadn't had that fight, I wouldn't have realised what a dick I was being and wouldn't have told you how I feel about you. I could've just left when you told me to leave.."

"I'm glad you didn't.."

He just smiled and kissed your shoulder, before nuzzling his forehead against it.

"Now.. you gotta sleep, you have practice tomorrow.. and I don't think Reid will let you turn up late.. again.."

He just laughed, kissing your shoulder again before resting his head into the pillow. You felt his hand play with the hem of your t-shirt for a while before he stopped and you knew he'd drifted off to sleep. You stayed awake for a while after that, unable to think about anything except Travis. Eventually your eyes fluttered closed and you drifted off to sleep, warmed by his arm around your stomach.

#travis kelce #travis kelce fluff #travis kelce smut #travis kelce angst #travis kelce x reader #travis kelce x y/n #travis kelce x you #travis kelce fic #kansas city chiefs #kc chiefs #nfl #nfl fan fic

240 notes · View notes

emthimofnight · 2 months

Note

I love Stellar! She's so cute! Love your art, keep being amazing, et cetera, but also I have a question:

You mentioned that at the time of Stellar's, shall we say, adoption, Shadow and Sonic were still in their "it's complicated" rivals era. I'm guessing Shadow wasn't especially close to Sonic's friends either? And that kinda got me wondering: how do Sonic's friends feel about Stellar when she first arrives? Obviously they love her on sight, but like, does Tails feel weird that he's now basically Shadow's brother-in-law? Is Amy a little alarmed at the thought of Sonic and Shadow being responsible for a literal baby? Does Rogue foresee the inevitable Sonadow to follow? And so on ...

Idk, would love to know more about the early days and everyone's reactions.

EEEHEHEH thank you so much for the compliment!!! 🥰🥰🥰

And I'll give you a quick rundown on everyone's feelings immediately after Shadow brought Stellar home!

Rouge was the first to know, as she was actually present when Shadow discovered Stellar. The two of them had been tracking some leads about Project Stellar for a while, not realizing they were stumbling upon another attempt at Project Shadow until they were right on top of it. Rouge initially tried to reason with Shadow, recognizing his anger instantly and trying to convince him to let cooler heads prevail. She even tried to warn him against removing Stellar from her stasis pod, fearing that it was acting as some kind of life support and would kill her upon removal. Shadow decided to remove her regardless, deciding that either way, a life in the government's hands as a weapon was no life at all. Still, Rouge convinced him to take her straight to Sonic—and, more importantly—Tails, since he had the tools at his disposal to give Stellar a proper look over.

Sonic and Tails live together, so they were the next in line to find out. Shadow basically showed up looking like he was out for blood with a baby in his arms, demanding that Tails use his equipment to see if she was okay. Tails and Sonic both wanted more of an explanation (like, where did you get a baby, WHY do you have a baby, why do you look like you just got out of a fight, etc) and Shadow would begrudgingly tell them what he'd learned, clearly deeply uncomfortable with the entire conversation.

Well, to say they would both be shocked would be an understatement. Sonic would be at a loss for words, for once. Tails, ever the scientist, would immediately want to look over Stellar to see if Shadow was telling the truth. By the time Shadow had handed the baby over to Tails, Sonic's brain would have rebooted and the motor mouth would start up again.

He'd be in total disbelief, really. He'd just start yammering on about every question and concern that would come to mind.

"The government tried to make another you?? With ME?"

"Does that make me a dad? Does that make YOU a dad?? ARE WE DADS??"

"I can't take care of a baby, I don't even remember BEING a baby! What do babies even eat??"

Etcetera, etcetera. Shadow would just stand stiffly in a corner of Tails's workshop, laser focused on whatever tests Tails would be running on tiny baby Stellar. He would totally tune Sonic out, instead focusing on the barely noticeable rise and fall of Stellar's chest, petrified that she might stop breathing if he looked away.

Honestly, the first night would be VERY tense. Shadow would still be high strung from the rescue, Sonic would be trying to wrap his head around the whole idea, and Tails would be devoted to running all the tests he could on Stellar to try and get some answers.

Tails would determine she was healthy, showed no signs of requiring any kind of life support, and was definitely Shadow and Sonic's biological child. Half Shadow's DNA, half Sonic's.

He would also realize in his tests that her energy readings were off the charts. Whatever they had been cooking up in that lab wasn't good, and Stellar was almost like a living chaos emerald. He'd immediately be concerned about the implications of keeping her around, but Sonic would have come around by that point, deciding there was no way he and Shadow would be getting rid of her.

Shadow wouldn't be so sure. He'd suggest talking to Rouge, Amy, or Vanilla about being a mother to her instead, since he wouldn't be confident in his own abilities to raise a child. Sonic would be annoyed by that, pointing out that it would be pretty messed up to try and pass her off on anyone else. Vanilla and Rouge both have their own kids to worry about, and Amy lives in the Sol Dimension with Blaze most of the time. He'd reason that they should at least try. Besides, who could possibly understand her more than Shadow?

Eventually, they'd agree to try raising her as a team. It'd be a begrudging decision, but one they'd learn to live with. The two of them wouldn't be romantically involved at this point, either, so the two of them had a LOT of growing pains trying to figure out how to parent together. Getting a baby government assigned to you is one thing, but having to raise it with your rival is another!

Oh, and as for Amy, Knuckles, and the rest of the group? They'd almost all be horrified LOL! Stellar definitely received a rocky reception at first! They all grew to love her eventually, though.

174 notes · View notes

roosterbruiser · 1 year

Text

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐞

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐀𝐊𝐀 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"Wait, don't--!"

His hips stutter as he throbs inside of you, anchoring you against his slick body with a painfully muscular arm. He hears you over the sound of the rushing water, over the blood rushing through his ears, over his ragged breathing.

And really, Jake isn't an asshole. Not in the ways that count, at least--especially with the women he has sex with.

So he does try to pull out as soon as he realizes that's what you mean by your unfinished sentence, the one that was strangled through your grit teeth. But the thing about that is you didn't give him much notice--granted, he shouldn't have assumed you were on birth control--and he was genuinely already partway through spilling inside you when he registered your words.

"Shit," he sighs, reeling at your sudden loss of contact.

You're pressed up against the wall still, breasts against the steamy tiles, and you're panting too.

"Shit, I'm really sorry," he apologizes, shaking his head. "I just didn't even realize what you said and by the time it registered, I--!"

You shake your head, sighing.

"Hey, it's fine," you tell him, really meaning it. "This is why God made morning-after pills."

It makes him laugh--it's a dry thing, one that is riddled with exhaustion. He's spent honestly--going from pulling 7G's to fucking you so furiously in the shower had proven to be a lot on his body.

You want to make a joke about child support or something, something dumb and inappropriate to say to a man that just accidentally came inside you the first time you had sex. But you don't say anything--you just catch your breath and so does he. It's quiet aside from the running shower and your heaving chests.

Jake leans forward and lets his body rest over yours, forehead resting against your shoulder. He's very warm--which you know is not just because of the lukewarm water raining down over the two of you. He's always warm--hot-blooded. And Jake thinks you feel very soft beneath him; he thinks that he might even like the way your skin feels pressed against his. And you both are just being still, resting in each other's arms. It's probably one of the only times the two of you have ever been in another's presence without arguing.

Before Jake even really knows what he's doing, still in that post-orgasm haze and enthralled in the absolute strangeness of just having fucked you, he presses his lips against your shoulder. At first he just kisses very softly, little things he peppers all along your naked shoulders and neck. And you don't tense at the feeling--for some reason, with your cheek agains the tile and your hair slung over your other shoulder, you're totally okay with him kissing your skin. And then he just lets his lips rest, stilling right there on the back of your neck.

And in almost total tandem, the both of you think it: this is kind of nice.

"You okay?" He asks suddenly, shooting up when he realizes that he's been kissing your skin.

You nod, eyes slipping shut.

"I think so," you whisper.

Things are different after that.

At first it's small things.

Like when Jake meets you at the pharmacy after the two of you leave base (at separate times, of course), he not only buys you Plan B but a protein bar and Gatorade, too.

"Post-coitus protein," he tells you when you look up at him with raised eyebrows.

He sits in your car as you take the pill, fiddling with your radio, looking at the interior you keep so clean. You have a strawberry air freshener in there that smells like his sisters childhood bedroom--he likes it. It's a nice evening so the windows are rolled down and the sun is setting in a blaze of orange and pink in the distance as the blinking, neon PHARMACY sign casts a red light over your face.

"Easy-peasy," you whisper, stuffing the box back in the grocery bag.

He nods, smiling softly, leaning back in your passenger seat. You're leaning back, too, tapping your fingers against the steering wheel. Your hair is still wet and the warm wind feels good when it filters through it.

"Wanna talk about it?" Jake asks.

It very nearly startles you when he says it. But when you look over at him, he's still fiddling endlessly with the radio and fixing his gaze everywhere but you.

"The sex? Or the...Plan B?"

He pulls his brows together, finally glancing up at you as a Joni Mitchell song floats through the radio. You look very soft right now--your face is naked and your damp hair is pulled back. You don't look angry at him for once and your face is open.

"Your dad," he says after a moment, swallowing hard.

It's vulnerable, really, for both of you. Jake is sitting in your car after fucking you, after buying you a protein bar and a Plan B, after splitting a lemon-lime gatorade with you, and A Case Of You is playing as he looks into your glassy eyes. And you had a breakdown--finally cracked and told someone about your father and the little time you have left with him. Then he made you cum and fucked you against the shower wall and now you're here--basking quietly in the glow of the pharmacy sign.

It's confusing, too, because up until about two hours ago, Jake Seresin was just about your least favorite person on earth. But now you think that he looks downright pretty when he's being earnest the way he is right now. And he thinks that you look beautiful, too, even with that drop of Gatorade on your bottom lip.

"Not right now," you say quietly, shaking your head.

Three hours ago, if he'd have asked, you'd have snarled at him. You probably would've hissed, "Not to you, dickhead." But things are different now. You both know it.

He's not hurt that you don't want to talk about it. He gets it--really, he does.

"Yeah, I get that," Jake says softly, trying to remain casual even though there's a strange sense of affection for your capturing every vital organs in his body. "I'm here if you...want to."

You nod, biting your thumbnail.

"Thanks," you whisper.

"And I guess, um, like for the record..." Jake says softly, scratching the back of his neck just to have something to do with his hands, "I don't think you're a bitch."

Something jolts inside of you, climbs up your chest and sits thickly in your throat. It feels strangely close to affection.

"Thank you," you whisper, biting your lip. "I don't think you're that big of a dick."

And then you're both laughing--it's the first time you two have ever really shared a laugh together. He's always heard your laugh from the other side of the room, in some conversation that he isn't a part of. Being so close to it now makes his fingers feel warm.

"I am a dick, huh?" He sighs, still smiling.

You shrug.

"You can be," you say, sighing. "But at least now I know you let ladies finish first."

He snorts softly.

"I'm a dick, not a monster."

Then you two are sharing your second laugh together. It fills your little car and nestles in snugly against your strawberry air freshener and Plan-B trash.

"Well, I've known plenty of monsters," you sigh, rolling your eyes at the mere thought of ex-boyfriend's and their ineffective fingers and short strokes.

"You're giving me a big head," Jake teases.

You smile--it's a real, genuine smile. The stretch of it on your lips feels unfamiliar. It's been a great while since you've smiled, you realize.

"I can deflate that ego anytime," you tell him, a teasing lilt in your voice. "Just give me the go-ahead when you're ready."

He takes a swig of your Gatorade. You watch him, watch his pink lips wrap around the rim, watch his throat swell as he swallows. He looks beautiful right now--partly in the afterglow and partly just because he is beautiful. That is undeniable now.

Then he offers the bottle to you--you take a drink, too.

"You like lemon-lime, right?" He asks.

He's asking fruitlessly--he knows you do. He's seen you buy it at the base vending machine more than once.

You nod. Of course you do. But he already knows that.

Another thing that changes is that he saves a seat for you. It starts the very next morning the two of you are on base together.

To the untrained eye, it would seem like nothing. But your eye isn't untrained. When you walk into the training room on Monday morning, Jake is sitting at the desk with his feet firmly planted on the floor, not in the seat beside him like they usually are. And when you slip in beside him silently, the way he was hoping you would, he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

"Mornin'," he greets quietly, chewing on a tooth pick.

You smile softly as you unpack your bag, nodding at him in greeting.

"Good morning."

He taps his knuckles on the table, trying to keep his voice steady.

"How was your weekend?" He asks.

You shrug.

"Fine. Lots of family coming in and out so...loud, I guess," you breathe. "How was yours?"

Something in his throat feels tight that you're just mentioning this fact in passing. He knows that your family is filtering in and out of your home because your father is dying--that this time must be very precious for you and yours and you're still coming into work every single day like nothing is wrong. But you're telling him this now, the only person on this base that knows about your ailing father, and it feels like you trust him. And you suppose that you accidentally kind of do trust him now--a little bit more than you did on Friday at 1 o'clock.

"Just great," he sighs.

Truth be told, he had thought of you all weekend. He was confused about the whole thing, since the two of you were sworn enemies but have now found yourselves in the no-man's-land between enemies and friends and lovers.

The next morning, the seat beside him is open again. And this time, there's a lemon-lime Gatorade waiting for you there like it's marking your spot.

And after that, it just keeps happening. Each morning, Jake somehow gets on base before you, buys a Gatorade, and leaves it at your seat. You wonder if he's spending a fortune in quarters and for about a month, he is--until he thinks better of it and just buys a pack of lemon-lime in bulk and starts bringing them from home.

Other members of the squadron notice that the two of you have seemingly formed some sort of truce, but no one is brave enough to outright ask what's happened between the two of you. Payback and Rooster sniff around wherever they can, trying to snuff out who the winner of their bet is, but you and Jake remain mum.

The next time you have sex, it's less of a surprise.

It's almost two months later--two months full of everyone dancing around the fact that your father is dying, two months of your family's door being a revolving one, two months of the stress of your recent detachment--when it all reaches a head.

You need a release and despite your better judgment a few weeks ago, you'd given Jake your phone number. Your text messages started our sporadic and random--sometimes just sending each other gossip you heard in the hangar or memes that made you think of the other. But then they'd evolved into something more constant than that recently--the two of you even catching a movie or a late dinner here or there.

So when you showed up at his door past midnight on a Saturday, almost two months since your shower encounter, he wasn't all that surprised to see you. It wasn't very odd to see each other off base now.

But what surprised him is how quickly you kissed him, walking over the threshold of his front door hastily. And he's kissing you back right away, blinking away his chock and his previous fatigue. You're ferocious in your kisses, all tongue and teeth and spit, and he's trying to keep up with you.

"Hi," he mumbles into your mouth, his voice deliciously gravelly.

"Hey," you whisper back, pulling back for a moment to behold him.

He looks good right now--scruffy and comfortable with his beard and his sweatpants low on his hips and his old band t-shirt. He's had a couple of beers and his lips taste like Stella Artois and peanuts. Before you came over, he was sitting on his couch, watching some highlight reel of a football game and putting off getting ready for bed.

And he's looking right back at you, at your pupils that are blown and your cheeks that are flushed. You are desperate for him like you were the first time the two of you touched, but it's different now. It's different because the two of you don't loathe each other--there's actually something between the two of you that resembles a friendship.

"Everything okay?" He asks quietly, his hands firmly planted on your hips as you press yourself into him and lace your fingers in his hair.

"No," you tell him honestly, biting your lip.

He wants to press you more--wants you to tell him what's wrong. He wants you to let it all out and he actually wants to listen to it because the two of you are suddenly people that care about each other. He cares about your Aunt Lisa and her bitchy comments that she makes to your mom and the way it hurts your feelings, too. He cares about your dad starting hospice last week. He cares about you skipping lunch most days--which has prompted him to start packing you bags of apples and walnuts and cheese--and he cares that you don't like red wine at all.

And you can feel that care--really, you can. Whoever the Jake was before you had sex is not the Jake that's looking into your eyes now with his brows blanched in sympathy. This Jake that's holding you genuinely wants you to be okay--this Jake hasn't tried anything sexual with you since your first encounter but is kissing you back right away.

Despite yourself and your efforts, you care about him, too. You care that he was grounded for two weeks--enough for you to have your dad talk to Cyclone and get the penalty dropped. You care that he doesn't usually get invited to group hangouts outside of The Hard Deck and have deemed yourself the official Hangman-inviter. You care that he likes rom-coms but doesn't like to admit it--so you pretend to suggest them all on your own.

"What can I do?" Jake asks, tenderly reaching up to swipe his knuckles across your cheek.

You lean into his touch, lean into his calloused fingers, and let your eyes fall shut softly.

"Fuck me," you whisper.

He nods, brows furrowed.

"I can do that," he whispers to you.

And all at once, things are happening. He's bracing his forearms beneath your ass and you're wrapping your legs around his hips. You're kissing and panting, tugging at the hems of each others shirts and leaving a trail of discarded clothing on the stairs as he carries you to his bedroom. And then he's laying you down on the bed, tugging your pants off without breaking your kiss, swallowing every precious noise that your mouth makes. He loves those sounds, loves the way they feel on his lips.

Then, after a few more minutes of kissing and petting and shedding, you're both naked.

You're lying flat on your back in his dark bedroom against his cold sheets, your eyes bleary with pleasure as he stands over you. He's naked except for the silver chain on his neck, his cock pressing thickly against his thigh. You're both flushed all over, both silently letting your eyes graze over each other's bodies.

Without another word, he reaches for you. He's careful with you as he first sinks his fingers down on your cunt--very carefully grazing your lips and gathering the wetness that has grown there. And he's just gazing down at you, treasuring that little crinkle between your brows and that twitch in the meat of your thighs. And when his fingers slip over your clit, he keens at the way your chest rises off the bed, at the way you inhale your breaths so sharply.

It feels good--like overwhelmingly good. He knows how to touch you, he knows where to touch you. All of his movements are seemingly perfectly calculated, one finger rubbing lazy circles on your clit while the other pushes into you. He's gentle, pumping at the pace you desire, bringing his other hand to his own cock to relinquish some of the tension that has risen there.

There's no haste. You two still very obviously want each other, you two are still very obviously desperate for each other, but you're not in the locker-room on base anymore. You're here in Jake's dark bedroom and he's savoring every moment that his fingers are buried in you.

"Jake," you whisper, clenching his sheets.

"I know, baby," he coos softly, squaring his jaw as he picks up his pace just slightly, "I know. I'll get you there."

His words alone are making you quake, making your toes curl. But everything he's doing just feels so good, so perfect. You know you must be absolutely slick with anticipation, that his fingers are more than enough to push you over the edge. He knows this, too--which is why he stops suddenly.

"What--?" You pant, sitting up on your elbows.

But Jake is just pressing his fingers against your mouth, the ones that had just been inside of you. And you're taking them without hesitation, a mutual sense of trust aiding in your malleability.

His eyes are dark as he watches you suck his fingers clean of your arousal, as you swirl your tongue along his fingertips. But they're not dark in a way that frightens you--they're lustful and adoring.

So when he lowers to his knees, when he hooks your knees over his shoulders and scoots you to the end of the bed, you don't shy away from him. You lay back on the bed, kiss each of his fingers and let them settle against your right nipple, and blink up at his ceiling.

When his tongue first circles your clit, you cry out, back arching off the bed. And because his hand is already there, he lets his palm lie flat in the middle of your chest, and pushes you back down against the mattress.

You taste just like he thought you would, very sweet and earthy on his tongue, and he can't think of any other place that he would rather be than hear between your quivering legs. He lets his tongue run across your slick folds and settle comfortably on your silky clit, lapping at it languidly as you writhe above him.

"Jake, that's so good," you manage to whimper, gasping as he hums against you.

"Want you to cum," he mumbles against you. "Cum for me, Wisty."

You're mewling, grasping for anything to hold you down to the bed as an impossibly tight coil springs in your belly. You can hardly catch your breath, can hardly keep your hips from bucking, when he reaches out to take your hands. It's a simple gesture, one that anyone in the world could do, but you are grateful for it. You dig your nails in his skin and he just holds you right back.

Maybe it's the sheer intimacy of it all that pushes you over the edge finally--or maybe it's because Jake is just that damn good with his tongue--but you nearly black out when you cum.

And because he cares about you, because he really does want you to feel good and be good, he coaxes you through it all. He holds your hands tight, keeps a flat palm to your chest so you don't come completely off the bed, laps up every bit of your nectar without overstimulating you.

And then he kisses his way up your legs, over your precious thighs and hips, all up your belly and between your breasts. Then he kisses up the column of your throat, nipping very lightly, bringing his hands to softly knead your breasts.

When his face finally hovers yours, when you're blinking up at him with bleary and glassy eyes and wet eyelashes and bitten lips, he feels like he's going to blurt something out that he might regret any other time.

"That was...nice," you whisper, voice trembling.

Truthfully, that was the best orgasm you've ever had.

"Nice, huh?" He laughs that pretty laugh, carefully pressing your hair behind your ears and letting his hand linger against your cheek.

"Didn't want you to get a big head," you meekly answer, smiling weakly.

The smile that tugs on his lips is one of utter fondness--one that usually prefaces sweet nothings. So you lean up and press your mouth on his, your lashes fluttering shut in tandem. The kiss is slow and sweet, very different than the clashing of tongue and teeth downstairs.

He slowly lowers his bare body on top of yours, pressing every surface of his skin against you, letting his cock rest against your hip. It feels good just to be this close to each other, just to be kissing each other with such sweetness.

"I really like you," Jake murmurs against your mouth.

And even if he's had a couple of beers, he knows that's not why he says it. He says it because he means it, because his cock is pressing against you, because he can still taste you on his tongue.

You thought your head would be spinning in this post-orgasm euphoria, but it's not. You feel everything is crystal clear as you rest your forehead against Jake's, as you swipe your thumbs cross his cheek softly. Affection is sitting very heavy on your body now, similar in weight to Jake.

"I really like you, too," you whisper.

You two have the good sense to use a condom this time, which hardly interrupts the flow of things, not when your blood is running so hot for each other.

He hovers you, relishing in the feeling of your legs coming up to wrap around his hips, relishing in your skin beneath his palms and your half-lidded eyes looking up into his. He's lined himself up perfectly, desperate to feel your warm walls around him, but then he pauses and stills--just like last time.

He reaches down, less hesitant than he was before, and lets his hand rest on your cheek. If you were another girl, one he didn't know very well, maybe he'd press his thumb into your mouth and have you suckle as he fucked you. But he merely strokes the soft skin of your cheek. And then you turn just slightly, just enough to press your lips against the pad of his thumb in the most tender kiss he's ever been given.

"You want this?" He asks, his voice strained.

You nod, leaning into his touch. Jake feels like no one has ever trusted him enough to lean into the palm of his hand like this--it feels good. It feels really, really good.

"Yes," you whisper quietly. "I want you."

𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦

that gif is my entire note. that's all. I'm deceased. goodbye now, world.

here is my tag list!!

also would the world want another part of this?? maybe when iceman...dies...or something angsty like that?

1K notes · View notes