#IF I FORGOT YOU I AM SO SORRY | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunsburns · 1 month ago

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Hey girl I have a request. I think Clark is into body worship, both receiving and giving but I feel he’d be so cute being in the receiving end. He’s Superman, he gets praise all the time and takes it in stride, but when it comes to you? Oh he gets shy, his cheeks are pink, he stutters a bit. When you tell him how big he is, there’s always a “…you think so?” “I’m not that big…”. His eyes are glazed when you start kissing and groping him everywhere appreciatively. Clark becomes bashful and flustered because all the praise coming from YOU just hits different. Can you please add onto this 😭😭😭

oh, you are absolutely cooking here. clark being shy and flustered when he’s on the receiving end of body worship? that’s a full-course meal. (18+) ᢉ𐭩

it starts with something small. maybe an offhand compliment while he's getting dressed—your eyes lingering just a second too long, watching how his muscles shift under his skin, the sheer width of him, the way his broad shoulders slope into a tapered waist, strong arms straining slightly as he buttons up his shirt.

“you’re so big.”

three words, simple, but they wreck him.

his hands falter, button slipping from his fingers, and his head turns towards you, brows pinched in disbelief, a soft, breathy laugh escaping him like he’s not sure he heard you right.

“…you think so?”

he’s genuinely unsure. as if he hasn’t had people across the globe marvel at him, as if he isn’t literally superhuman in strength, in stature, in presence. but this—you looking at him like that, eyes dark and full of appreciation, tracing every inch of him with slow, lingering touches—this is different.

“clark, baby,” you hum, stepping in closer, letting your hands drag up his chest, feeling the solid weight of him under your palms. you look up at him, “you’re huge.”

his throat bobs, adam’s apple bobbing with a hard swallow. his skin burns under your touch, warmth radiating from him like a furnace.

“i’m not that big…” he tries, voice going a little weak when your fingers curl around his biceps, giving them an appreciative squeeze.

you just smile, letting your hands wander, mapping the planes of his body like you have all the time in the world. “mm, you are. so big. so strong. so perfect.”

and that’s when it happens—his ears go pink first, then his cheeks, and then that soft, bashful smile creeps onto his face, the kind that makes his dimples show. he can’t handle it. his hands come up like he’s going to stop you, but they just hover, unsure—because does he really want you to stop?

“you—” his voice catches, and he lets out another laugh, this time breathier, shaking his head like he can’t believe you. like he can’t believe he gets you.

but you’re not done. no, now that you see how he’s unravelling, you want more. you press your lips to his collarbone, slow and reverent, and he melts. his body twitches under your mouth, his breath coming out uneven as your kisses trail lower, over his chest, down the ridges of his abs, your hands following close behind, smoothing over every dip, every curve of muscle.

and clark—sweet, sweet clark—is squirming.

“baby,” he breathes, voice cracking just a little as he watches you kneel before him, eyes glazed and heavy-lidded. “you don’t have to—”

“but i want to.” you cut him off, lips ghosting over the center of his stomach, feeling how his muscles flex beneath your mouth. you move lower, pressing your cheek against his crotch. you basically nuzzle against his boner, tracing the shape of it with your lips, mouthing it, kissing it over his clothes.

“you’re so beautiful, clark. so handsome. so perfect.”

his whole face is red now, a helpless, lopsided smile tugging at his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, completely overwhelmed. his body can handle a lot, but this?

“okay, but make it quick.”

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myokk · 2 months ago

Text

note-taking

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3,6k

summary: mc loves flustering sebastian with her notes during class😇

cw: NONE this is just fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, it takes a while for them to admit their feelings, I rated it M for some language/sexual themes

a/n: I laughed a lot as I wrote this on the train, I hope you enjoy reading about these two idiots (endearing) as much as I did writing them

A beetle slowly makes its way across Sebastian Sallow's desk.

The classroom is silent - save for the scratching of quills furiously calculating the Arithmatic probability of who will be the next Minister and the quiet murmur of his professor as she helps Hobhouse (how did he even get into the N.E.W.T. level?) - and Sebastian is going absolutely mad.

He counts how many seconds it takes for the beetle to reach his abandoned quill (fifteen). But, when it takes its seventh step after making it over the quill (an auspicious sign), Sebastian slams his hand down on top of it.

The loud noise echoes through the silent classroom and Sebastian hears her snickering coming from behind him as the whole class turns to see what has happened. His ears turn red, he wishes he could jinx her somehow, and yet he is terribly curious to see what she has sent him this time. Sebastian hopes that everyone has gone back to their equations and stops staring at him, because now that it's in his hands, his fingers are itching to open it. His hands eagerly - shamefully eager, if you ask him - unravel the note he's crumpled up in his hands - almost a shame that he destroyed the beetle, it was one of her better creations - and Sebastian soon curses his haste.

His ears would be an even deeper shade of red were his blood not currently draining to a different part of his body. Sebastian shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he continues reading the note, his eyes flying across the tiny note once, twice, three times before he crumples it up and adds it to the graveyard of the other notes she has been sending him all day. The words fuck my soaking cunt flash up at him and he adjusts his schoolbag so that if anyone were to walk past and look into it, they wouldn't suspect a thing.

You see, this has been going on all week. Sebastian knew that when his seventh year started, it was going to be the culmination of their academic rivalry, but he never expected this. That witch has made taunting him her personal vendetta, and it's working.

Sebastian can't get her out of his mind.

It started in Herbology on Monday, at exactly 7.37 in the morning. Sebastian had been sitting next to Ominis, both complaining under their breaths at how early Professor Garlick had made them wake up (something about the plants blooming - Sebastian can't remember now). He had seen a little snake slither past Ominis's hands, making its way directly to him, and he does remember that he thought it was quite strange that Ominis didn't seem to react to the snake's presence. And then - he took a closer look at it - he saw that it was made of paper. Curious, Sebastian had thought as he grabbed and unfolded it. Reading it started an unfortunate chain of events.

It started out innocently enough, he supposes. Well, if you can call the most indecent thing he's ever read innocent, then it started out innocently.

Sallow - let me just say how absolutely delicious you look in your jacket this morning. I find I want to rip it off of your broad shoulders. Did you hit a growth spurt this summer?

He had flushed, briefly glanced over his shoulder - maybe he could see a face as flushed as his was, watching his reaction, but nothing - before looking back to the note, squinting at the familiar (familiar?) handwriting when Ominis had interrupted him.

"Sebastian? I think we need to start trimming the budding flowers now..."

His voice had blended in with the buzzing in Sebastian's ears as he stared intently down at the note in his hands. He had soon figured out who sent it - how could he not recognize her handwriting? - and the rest of Herbology class had been an absolute disaster. He had spent the whole rest of his time haphazardly massacring his plants and ignoring Ominis's pleas for help as he ruminated on her and what did she mean by her note? Her maddening laughter floated over the sound of tiny, precise snips as Sebastian's classmates did as they were supposed to, boring into his mind as he tried his hardest to figure out what she was up to.

Her plan's working, whatever it is. Sebastian has been frustrated to no end. She's nobody to him, just Anne's annoying best friend. Well, that's not entirely true, and Sebastian doesn't like to lie to himself. She was his closest friend last year, and the year before...ever since she arrived at Hogwarts, really. They did everything together, but something had changed when she visited that summer.

She had spent less time laughing with him, instead choosing to whisper with Anne about Merlin knows what, sometimes looking at him with an expression he couldn't place that had started to drive him crazy.

Sebastian had decided that a certain someone made no sense, that he would ignore the strange way his stomach would flip in her presence, and that he would focus all of his energy into besting her at everything. Maybe if she was embarrassed about being inferior to him, she would stop all of this. Although he would never admit it, he had started having nightmares about her gasping beneath him and needing him, that strange look from the summer flashing in dream-her's eyes, blissful fantasies that have him waking up hard and needing to cast a silencing charm around his bed before he can start his days.

Needless to say, these dreams have become infinitely worse this week.

What started out as a joke has quickly spiraled into an obsession. She soon finds herself watching Sebastian with breathless anticipation every time she sends a note over to him, relishing in the deep flush of his cheeks as he sneaks glances over his shoulder at her.

She doesn't really know what possessed her to start in the first place. A stroke of daring, she supposes as she finishes her latest note with a flourish and charms it to fold itself into a tiny swallow. And, she muses, watching the bird fly towards its victim, it's rather fun to fluster him so.

It's what he deserves, after all, after she has spent a whole year pining after him. A whole bloody year of sighing as he leaned over her shoulder in the library to point at something in her textbook, of his chin resting on top of her head, of warm breath tickling her ears, of watching him defeat every opponent in Crossed Wands, of watching him laugh despite himself at her little quips in Transfiguration. Of making sure -

She stifles a smile as she watches Sebastian eagerly grab the swallow as it flitters towards him. At first, he had tried acting nonchalant, like a cat biding its time before it pounces. Ignoring the notes she's been sending until he can't stand it and then: squashing them, smashing them, trapping them in his large hands, long fingers eager to unfold the note and see what she has to say.

Now, he has abandoned any pretense of aloofness he might have had before.

She can see it in the rigid set of his shoulders. The tension releases somewhat every time he opens a note, but quickly returns as he crumples them up and adds them to his collection. She hopes he's getting as wound up as she is, hopes that he's beginning to know an ounce of the suffering he has been putting her through.

A small voice in the back of her head tells her that she's being unfair, that maybe he's just oblivious - but then, why would he have looked at her like that all summer? And - almost the most maddening thing of all - ever since their seventh year started, he has made it a point to try and best her in every class. She couldn't move on from her silly little crush even if she wanted to, when his deep voice cuts through hers every single class to answer first, when he's always right ahead of her in Potions to get the best ingredients, when he's the one standing across from her in the mock duels in Hecat's class and as he raises his wand and her breath catches in her throat and -... Well, it's only fair, then, that she tries to distract him during class.

She's wondering what the next note should say, is lightly rubbing the edges of the quill's feather against her lips - did she go too far with the latest note? - when the scraping of a chair next to her pulls her out of her thoughts. She jumps at the jarring noise, the quill clatters on the table as it falls, and she feels her own face flush when she sees Sebastian sprawling himself out in the seat right next to hers.

There's a look on his face that she's never seen before and she feels as if all of the air has left her body when he leans in close to her - she could start counting his freckles if her brain hadn't gone completely empty - warm breath tickling her ear as he breathes, "What do you think you're doing?"

She hasn't thought this far ahead.

Why hadn't it occurred to her that Sebastian might confront her about the notes?

"I..." she falters, trying to get her thoughts working again, so that she can find something to say to get her out of this situation. Because she didn't actually want him to notice her, did she? And, what could she possibly say in defense of the filthy things she's been sending him all week? She can't seem to break eye contact with him: she swallows nervously: she tries again: "I -"

Her words fail her once again, when Sebastian's warm hand comes to rest on top of her thigh. Her thick wool skirt might be acting as a barrier between them, but it somehow feels like he's touching her bare skin and her whole body heats up uncontrollably. Even like this, his touch is better - more electric - than what she's been imagining this whole time.

He turns away and pulls parchment out with the hand that isn't actively caressing her thigh, and reaches across her for the quill that has fallen from her fingers. She hears scratching as he starts working on his equations - she vaguely thinks that she should be working on them too, isn't she supposed to be trying to do better than him? But -... her breathing is shallow - all of her nerve endings have seemingly migrated to the spot on her inner thigh that Sebastian's thumb is now massaging in tiny circles - maybe her brain has just packed its bags and left on holiday to Bath for all the use it's giving her now.

He doesn't even spare her a glance during the rest of the class, continues to diligently work on his equations for the first time all week, but his large hand remains on her thigh, completely obliterating any thought from her mind that doesn't have something to do with the warmth that keeps pooling deep in her stomach at his touch.

When the class is blissfully (unfortunately) over, Sebastian finally pulls his hand away and she squeaks in protest against her wishes - her thigh is now cold - that must be it (just discomfort, that's all) - she doesn't feel the relief she thought she would at his absence. He smirks down at the parchment he's rolling up, packs everything into his school bag, and leaves her behind without his eyes darting to hers even once.

Seven notes.

She has sent Sebastian seven bloody notes over the course of the last three days, and as he looks over at the crumpled up papers sitting on the desk in his dorm room, notes he tried his best to smooth out, he feels his heart race increase. He doesn't understand why she's doing this, but he does understand how it's making him feel. He could barely even think during Arithmancy, knowing how much his presence was affecting her, feeling her warm thigh under his hand. And when she protested when he removed his hand, well. He had to get out of there as fast as possible.

Maybe it's a good thing she didn't have the presence of mind to look at his arithmatic equations during class, because they are, unfortunately, incomprehensible. He had to keep up the charade by pretending to scribble for the rest of class, but now he almost regrets it - almost - because his pride won't allow him to ask Amit for his notes.

Sebastian has spent the evening poring over his textbook, trying to make sense of something that should be coming easily to him - Anne doesn't tease him about his strange obsession with numbers for no reason - and yet, his eyes keep wandering over to her notes. (Why did he even take them out of his bag in the first place?) (Why hasn't he burned those blasted things yet?) He has decided to forego studying in the library, the common room, and the Undercroft (places where he might see the object of his inner turmoil), and yet he is still getting nothing done even in the peaceful silence of his dormitory. Because her letters are shouting at him.

Well, not really, as they aren't Howlers. They might as well be, though, with how much he has reread them since he took them out of his bag. A smile spreads across his face despite himself as he puts his plaid jacket - the one he wore on Monday - on his chair to wear tomorrow. That stupid smile doesn't leave his face as he brushes his teeth next to Ominis before bed (thanking Merlin that Ominis is blind and can't pester him about what he cannot see), nor does it leave as he tries to fall asleep that night.

Suffice it to say, Sebastian does not get much sleep that night.

"...caught her snogging Prewett in the boathouse."

"Oh Merlin." A giggle. "I wonder if he's any good. Don't look at me like that, I know you've wondered the same thing..."

She blushes as she tucks her head down, trying to concentrate on the reading before her but it's difficult. First, because Sacharissa is being entirely too loud as she gossips with Grace - they might be some of the first at breakfast, but that doesn't mean they're alone - and second, because she is reading the book she filched from Sacharissa's bag. It's been charmed to look like a History of Magic textbook (nobody would ever be interested enough in one of those to filch it back) and she hopes that it's enough to make sure that no one distracts her in her research.

She has never had experience of the amorous sort before, and she has run out of things to put in the letters she's been sending to Sebastian - they were all just things she had been thinking, or things that she's overheard the boys saying when they thought they were alone. But what she's been reading in Sacharissa's novel - if it can even be called that - are enough to make her so hot and bothered that she's not sure if she should retreat back to her dorm room to read it in peace. As her eyes fly over the words, she pictures Sebastian doing those things to her, with her, and it's enough to make it so she's not even sure she can look him in the eye ever again. The feeling of his hand on her thigh the day before has imprinted itself on her body and in her brain and she barely got any sleep because of it.

"What are you reading?" asks Anne as she plops herself down on the bench, trying to look over her shoulder. She flinches and slams her book shut as fast as possible, feeling her traitorous face heat up. She knows she's making it all more suspicious, but Anne cannot find out. Anne shrugs and starts buttering her toast, stifling a yawn. "I never knew that the Vampire Treatises of the 15th century were so interesting. By the way, have you seen my brother at all? I couldn't find him last night and - Oi, Sebastian!"

Anne stands halfway up and starts waving him over, and she wishes she could vanish. Maybe, instead of researching fresh ways to torture him, she should have been learning how to most effectively vanish oneself from the face of the Earth. She's sure the heat she feels burning her cheeks as she sees him walk over to them is translating to her face being a bright, red, ugly beacon calling to him.

As he walks over to their table, looking entirely too irresistible in that plaid jacket of his, Merlin, his growth spurt really -

"Ladies," he says, nodding at them as he takes a seat across the table, "how did you sleep?"

She knows he's giving her a pointed look as he asks, but she has started to choke on the pumpkin juice she started drinking as he walked over - she is, unfortunately, picturing them doing some of the filthy things she's just read together - and could she really make more of a fool of herself than she already has at this point? But then - he grabs her book. Her heart lurches but she can't do anything due to the fact she's still spluttering over her pumpkin juice, and she watches in horrified fascination as he starts flicking through the pages. His eyebrows raise steadily higher and higher as he reads, his own face turning a shade of red she's certain matches her own. She curses herself again - vampires are so interesting, of course he would want to read about them - she should have made the cover a topic she knows Sebastian hates, like a compendium of spells to boost fingernail growth or a Duncan Hobhouse biography - but it's too late now.

Sebastian clears his throat and glances at her, and she sees uncertainty, vulnerability in his eyes as they make brief contact with hers. Finally her brain starts working - quite possibly for the first time since she started this stupid game in Herbology on Monday - and she hastily stands up, snatching the book from Sebastian's hands - he puts up no resistance - and clutches it to her chest as she blurts out in one breath: "I-slept-terribly-last-night-and-it's-all-thanks-to-you."

And now, she's fleeing the Great Hall, wondering what's gotten into her.

She next sees Sebastian during their Ancient Runes class. Well, she doesn't actually see him: she's made it a point to be the first to enter the class, and keeps her head down as she stares at her parchment the second everything is set up perfectly. Inkwell - parchment - her stupid replacement quill - textbook - everything is in place. After the disastrous event otherwise known as breakfast, she's decided that she's over her silly little crush, and she will never think about Sebastian Sallow again. She will never think about things she might say that will make him laugh again, she will never think of book recommendations again, she will certainly never think of his strong hands caressing her thigh again, and she will never, ever -

A tiny paper fox climbs into her hand.

I didn't get any sleep last night either, because of you. P.S. I still have your quill.

She flushes and looks over her shoulder. Sebastian flashes her a crooked smile that makes her stomach lurch in an unfamiliar way, before he ducks his head down and continues to scribble his translations with her quill. Her quill. A new flash of hatred surges through her - that's what these intense feelings must be - and she decides she needs to get it back.

Instead of translations, she hatefully scribbles down everything that she wants to do to Sebastian Sallow - she wants punch his stupid face, wait: she wants to kiss his stupid freckled face and hold his silly beautiful hands and she wants to feel the deep rumble of his laugh after her jokes as she rests her head on his shoulder and she wants to read next to him and have things be back to how they always were, and yet she wants more than that, more than just being friends, it's what she's wanted all along, isn't it? - and she marches after him when the class has finished.

Sebastian doesn't spare her a glance even though he has to know she's behind him with how much noise her frustrated huffing makes as they weave through the throngs of students in the hallways. It's lunchtime, and yet instead of heading to the Great Hall, he's leading her somewhere else.

He finally stops when they reach the top of the Astronomy Tower, and she opens her mouth to protest. She knows she's terribly flushed, her chest heaving as she glares up at him: "You are despicable! I need my quill -"

She's cut off from speaking as before she knows it, his hands are caressing her face and he is kissing her. Oh, Merlin, it's better than she could have hoped it to be, and her own traitorous body and mind have forgotten the alliance formed against him in the face of Sebastian Sallow's persistence and she's wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down closer, making sure he can't get away from her again.

Maybe later she can show him all of her notes on how much she hates him and they can have a laugh. Maybe later they can revisit some passages from the book she filched.

But right now, she doesn't let go of Sebastian.

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