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feelingsmixed · 6 months ago

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On portraiture: Nan Goldin, Alice Neel and Apolonia Sokol

Nan Goldin, Picnic on the esplanade, Boston, 1973

Back in December, I visited an Alice Neel exhibition at the Munch Museum in Oslo which left a big impression on me. When I got home, I started writing an essay about Neel and portraiture which I since abandoned. When I watched the documentary All the beauty and the bloodshed about Nan Goldin two weeks ago, I however started thinking about it again. The documentary, co-produced by Goldin, follows her battle against the Sackler family. The Sacklers are the world’s largest producer of opioids and are seen as being the main drivers of the opioid crisis. For decades, they’ve pushed for increasing prescriptions of opioids, despite being aware of them being incredibly addictive, thus sending hundreds of thousands of people into addiction – a large number of these addictions resulting in deaths. At the same time, the Sacklers are great patronages of the art world and has donated millions of dollars to art museums all over the world, who in turn have named wings, courtyards and buildings after them. Goldin, herself a survivor of opioid addiction, form the activist group P.A.I.N with other survivors and people who have lost loved ones to the same. The group’s goal is to have the Sackler name (and money) removed from museums around the world, to make impossible their art-washing. This narrative is interspersed with Goldin’s own life story and her photography.

Goldin is one of the first artists I remember leaving an impression on me. I stumbled upon her photography on the Internet and was captured by their overwhelming intimacy. Years later, I saw The ballad of sexual dependency exhibited at MoMA in New York. Goldin exhibits her photos in a slideshow accompanied by music, which means that the viewer is made to watch each photo in a specific order and for a specific time. I was mesmerized by this way of curating photography and bought her book of the photos afterwards. I’ve seen the slideshow exhibited again later where she had added new photos to it and made changes in the order. The unfinished and unfolding nature of the slideshow reflects Goldin’s attitude to photography.

In the documentary, Goldin recounts running away from home at age 14 following the suicide of her older sister. At the various institutions where she spent her teenage years, she was shy and had difficulties connecting with her peers. That was until she 1) met David Armstrong who became a lifelong friend and 2) took up photography at age 18. The camera, Goldin says, gave her a reason to be there. She had a purpose: documenting. Throughout her life, she has continued photographing the people surrounding her.

Alice Neel, Geoffrey Hendricks and Brian, 1978

This made me think of Alice Neel again. Neel lived from 1900 and died in 1984, just before Goldin made her debut in the art world. She is considered one of the 20th century’s greatest portrait painters but didn’t want to be called that but referred to herself as a “people painter”. Like Goldin, she portrayed the people who surrounded her: friends, people in her neighborhood, artists and leftist intellectuals. “One of the reasons I painted”, Neel said, ”was to catch life as it goes by, right hot off the griddle, because when painting or writing are good it’s taken right out of life itself, to my mind.” The people appearing in her paintings recall the sitting itself as joyful, as they talked and laughed with Neel non-stop. However, many thought that it was an eerie experience seeing the result (Frank O’Hara famously hated his portrait). She called herself a “collector of souls”, meaning that she wanted her paintings to show more than the way her subjects looked physically: she wanted to convey their being. It’s not that she made them look unpleasant. It’s rather that the subjects look somehow wonky: some body parts are slightly enlarged, certain colors are exaggerated or distorted. Strangely, this makes them seem more rather than less lively.

Alice Neel, Marxist Girl (Irene Peslikis), 1972

Similarly, Goldin wants to capture the lives of the people she photographs. More than Neel however, her subjects’ opinion of their portrayal matter to her. In All the beauty, she recounts how at early screenings of her slideshows, the audience would consist exclusively of the people appearing in the photos who would comment loudly on what they thought of the photos of themselves. This would lead her to keep some and remove other photos from show. In The ballad, she writes: “My desire is to preserve the sense of people’s lives, to endow them with the strength and beauty I see in them. I want the people in my pictures to stare back”. Her subjects, her friends, were marginalized – queers, drug users, poor artists — deemed as outcasts by society, and she wanted the photos to challenge this gaze. The photos showcase beauty and community, from the mundane (picnics, breakfast) to the celebratory (parties, night clubs, weddings) as well as in moments of griefs and hardship (funerals, Goldin’s unforgettable self-portraits after being battered by an ex-boyfriend).

Nan Goldin, Max, Muffy, and Peter at Sharon's birthday party, Princetown, 1976

The inheritance of Neel as well as Goldin’s approaches can be traced in Apolonia Sokol’s work which I first got to know through the extraordinary documentary Apolonia, Apolonia. Similar to both Goldin and Neel, Sokol often paints those marginalized by mainstream society, queers, racialized subjects, activists: her friends. Like Goldin, she wishes to convey them how she sees them, and how they deserve to be seen.

Apolonia Sokol, Boysan with friends, 2022

This is somehow also where she and Neel have different ideas of what it means to portray. Sokol’s subjects are radiant, a portrayal which can be read as resisting how her subjects are usually depicted by society: as misfits, abject, unwanted. Filtered through Sokol’s eyes, they are instead strong, majestic, beautiful. She often paints them in warrior-like scenarios, holding the cut off heads of men; protesting at demonstrations; carrying swords: almost always with a defiant look on their face. Neel on the other hand shows the vulnerabilities of her subjects, their ambivalences and insecurities.

Apolonia Sokol, Dina, 2022

Alice Neel, Frank O'Hara no. 2, 1960

For both Goldin and Sokol, the relationship to the subject is central to the artwork. To Goldin, her photos are not only portrayals of the people in them, but of her relationship to them: “There is a popular notion that the photographer is by nature a voyeur, the last one invited to the party. But I’m not crashing; this is my party. This is my family, my history.” Documenting becomes a way of preserving these relationships. It was David Armstrong, her first real friendship, who made her pick up the camera to photograph him, and it has been this way ever since. The act of documenting is however ambivalent. Goldin has said about her documentation, “I used to think that I could never lose anyone if I photographed them enough. In fact, my pictures show me how much I've lost.” In All the beauty, this becomes painfully evident. Photos of her friends taken in the 70s and 80s slide by, while she tells us that most of them died not long after, mostly of AIDS.

Nan Goldin, Cookie in her casket, NYC, 1989

One of Sokol’s most frequent subjects is her friend, Oksana Sjatjko. Sjatjko, herself an artist, who was part of the feminist collective FEMEN and had to flee Ukraine for France, moved in with the rest of the group in the theater in Paris, Sokol lived in. They became close friends. When the rest of the group found other places to live, Sjatjko stayed. When the news about Sjatjko’s death is delivered in Apolonia, I couldn’t stop crying. I cried throughout the rest of the film, I cried through the end credits and when I woke up the next morning, I was still feeling sad. It wasn’t only her tragic death, it was the film’s portrayal of their friendship, from the scenes where they read paperbacks and smoke cigarettes together in bed, to Sjatjko posing for Sokol and accompanying her as support to various exhibitions, to them bickering, complaining about each other, only for a moment later to be laughing with each other.

For the two, being friends was not always easy, is the impression the documentary leaves you with. Sjatjko was traumatized by her flight from Ukraine, battling the French integration bureaucracy as well as her growing ambivalence towards FEMEN’s political strategies and her own future. Sokol was restlessly moving around the world, from Paris to Copenhagen to Los Angeles, fighting for her work to be recognized. These difficult life situations made them close to each other, while at the same time leading to tensions and disappointments.

In a way, these ambiguities are not immediately evident in the paintings of Sjatjko. Here, she looks glorious, in some paintings depicted in the style of an orthodox icon, in another with her fists raised, ready to fight. Looking closer at the latter painting however, you realize that both of her arms are in casts, a reference to her breaking both of her arms when jumping out of a window to escape capture in Kiev. This relationship between strength and vulnerability is also present in another painting where Sjatjko locks eye with the viewer, however with half of her face partly hidden behind her hair.

Apolonia Sokol, Oksana, 2024

What makes the work of these artists so interesting and immediate to me, is the way it opens questions of friendships, remembrance, glorification, celebration, marginalization and politics and the ways in which they become intertwined in ambiguous ways in portraiture. Portraiture can never mirror reality in any objective sense, but it shows us something much more interesting — especially when it’s not trying to do the former.

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sunshineandtheprincess · 4 months ago

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Nathan never failed to sneak in an "I love you," no matter what was going on. It was something Colby had stopped doing a long time ago. Now, the only time Mike heard those words from Colby was when he messed up or wanted to attempt to have sex. Nathan was different—he’d say it even in the middle of fucking his brains out like a slut, never missing saying it. He even stuck with the nickname he’d given Mike, never calling him anything else.

People always talked about how great sex was and how it made you feel, but Mike had gone so long without it—especially given his circumstances—that he didn’t really see the appeal. That was part of the reason he and Colby never had sex. Mike had even started to think he might be asexual. Then Nathan came along and showed him how beautiful and incredible it could be. For the first time in his life, Mike was fully aroused—and only became more so as they explored this new side of things together. His pussy was always wet even soaked when Nathan really want to rile him up. Mike had even discovered how many orgasm he could have in a single night. The male taught him so much. That night that he bought the lingerie, they hadn't even had full on sex. A bit of foreplay but that been it but maybe a part of had know what was to come.

Whenever their bodies pressed together, the difference between them became impossible to ignore. The lingerie didn’t help—it only made Mike look even more slim, petite, and feminine compared to Nathan. And for some reason, Nathan seemed to love it, embracing and encouraging Mike's feminine side. The way Nathan moved reminded Mike of him on the field during a match, that same confident control over everything. Mike could feel the way Nathan commanded his body, bending him effortlessly. Thankfully, Mike was flexible enough to keep up; otherwise, he’d probably be in some pain. Though, if he was being honest with himself, Mike wasn’t sure he’d care if he was. His pussy craved Nathan's cock, and it showed by how it covered it in his juices. If the noises and look of pleasure weren't enough to go by, he hoped that Nathan could feel his arousal. That only him, and him alone could get him like this. "y-yes, daddy." he said, as the male seem to hit his prostate causing him to see stars. welcoming his kiss as Nathan continued his rhythm.

Nathan took full control, his hands roaming every inch of Mike’s body. If his plan was to completely overwhelm him, it was definitely working especially when he played with his clint. Mike’s mind becoming blank as Nathan touched him, each movement sending a feeling of ecstasy through him. If anyone asked, Mike would say Nathan excelled at everything—and it wasn’t just the boxer in him. Whoever ended up with him would be incredibly lucky. Mike wished it could be him, but deep down, he knew he had to be realistic. There was no way someone as amazing as Nathan would choose him in the end. But right now, none of that mattered. Not with the way Nathan was hitting all the right spots, turning Mike into a moaning, mumbling mess. Even more when he started to pick up his pace, going faster and harder. The male was taking the expression fuck you senseless to a whole other level. He had no doubt everyone could hear them and knew exactly what they were doing but he didn't care.

The bed wasn’t built to handle sex especially like this, and Mike knew it would probably break eventually. Not that it would stop them—Nathan was clearly a man on a mission. If there was one thing Mike knew about him, it was that once Nathan set his mind to something, there was no talking him out of it. And now, this feral, carnal side of him had taken over, making that even more true. Mike tried to speak, but the words came out as nothing more than incoherent sounds. He hummed softly, though, knowing that Nathan would probably understand him anyway. Somehow, Nathan always did.

"Love you, Princess," Nathan hummed into the kiss without missing a beat. Nathan had never felt more feral before. Mike had become a natural at turning him on- to the point where Nathan found himself hard and ready for the other in a matter of seconds sometimes, but this was something special. This was more erotic than any porn could capture, something more intimate than any romance novel could describe and more carnal than he could've ever dreamed of. His Princess was his fuckdoll- dedicated to and for his pleasure.

Nathan had never been an overtly sexual person before he met his Princess. Sure, he was no blushing virgin, but it wasn't something he did often or even really thought about as most of his focus, energy and physicality went to his career. But with Princess, he couldn't help himself. The other effortlessly ignited a passion and desire within him that he didn't know he had. He dreamed about being inside of Mike, of tasting the other's soaked pussy, of making him moan, of the look on his face when he came again and again. He found a new kind of fulfilment in life from pleasuring his Princess, a sense of debaucherous pride that he found himself becoming addicted to. They had made love a fair number of times at this point; but this was something new for them, something much deeper and darker than before, a burning and sinful level of lustfulness.

"All yours, Princess," Nathan confirmed. As he now towered over the other, holding his legs up against his body so the other had a full view of him and vice-versa, he continued his steady rhythm, though it dared to get faster the more he listened to the other and the more he got to drink in the image of Mike in pink lingerie- bought and worn just for him. It was like a physical representation of how much Mike wanted to please him, to be his. To Nathan, it told him that Mike craved him and their sex as much as he did, which was deeply affirming as it was a turn-on seeing the man he considered the most beautiful in the world dressed like this just for him to enjoy. "Pretty girl in the streets and daddy's fucktoy in the sheets, huh?" he asked with a grin, letting Mike's legs part now, falling to either side of him so he could lean down and kiss the love of his life as he continued his steady, fast and deep pleasuring rhythm inside of Mike.

He wanted to make Mike just as crazed and carnal as he was, his hands explored the other's tight, shorter body freely. One hand toyed with Mike's juicy pecs and hard nipples while his other reached down between them, stroking and massaging Mike's clit. Mike had one asked him where he'd learned his sexual prowess from considering he'd told Mike that he'd had little to no experience before the other and the truth was that Mike brought it out of him, he ran on an erotic kind of autopilot where his body moved half of it's own accord. The knight fucked his princess hard enough now that the bed beneath them moved in unison with his thrusts and if Mike's neighbors hadn't been able to tell from the screams and moans, the creaking and banging of the bed against the wall would be a certain give away.

"Never wanna stop fucking you, Princess," he breathed against the other's lips, still kissing him passionately, "You reward for being such a good girl for your Daddy is that I'm gonna make you cum 'till you pass out."

#( 006: the knight & his princess )

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yourbucky084 · 2 years ago

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temptation

description: endless flirting. lingering touches. comments that were just a little more than friendly. you like matt murdock, and he likes you. who knew all you needed was a hotel mishap to bring you together (aka, there's only one bed smut)

word count: 8.4k EXACTLY!!

a/n: this was a fan favorite before the tumblr machine deleted me, so I felt it was only right if it was my first fic reposted! this one is smutty, tension filled, and surprisingly also really sweet. please enjoy whores -shannon <3

“Matt, it’s getting close to-” You began, walking into his office. You stopped when you saw he was on the phone, but he beckoned you anyway. He held up one finger to his lips, signaling for you to be quiet, and sent a quick smile your way. You smiled too, of course.

These days it seemed like everything Matt did made you smile. Every joke, every compliment, even every brush of skin. The most mundane things, even him simply saying your name, sent shivers down your spine. Eventually you realized it was him that made you smile, not the things he did.

Him.

You had been the secretary for Nelson and Murdock a few months now, ever since Karen started working for The Bulletin full time. It was a great job, the pay was decent for the work, and the staff, albeit only two other people, was fantastic. You all got along great, no hiccups, easy conversation; you were already close friends. Everything was effortless, easy…until a few weeks ago.

Foggy had started making jokes about you and Matt the last couple of weeks, mumbles of “get a room already” and comments about Matt’s so-called radar for beautiful women. At first, you brushed them off as what you thought they were: jokes. But, the last couple of days, Matt had gotten… defensive. Telling Foggy to stop, telling you to ignore him, or just leaving the room all together.

The way you saw it, there were two reasons Matt was acting so peculiar. He either really liked you, and the jokes put pressure on him to confess, or he didn’t like you at all, and the jokes made him uncomfortable. When the second option made you want to break down, you knew you were in deep. And, honestly, who wouldn’t be. He was Matthew Murdock, smart as a whip and heart of gold. Didn’t hurt that he was incredibly attractive, too. Something about that day old stubble and dimples made your knees buckle; his smile seemed endless. He was also suspiciously very well built; you had asked Foggy about it a few weeks ago and he had brushed you off, saying Matt was “just like that.” But you knew better, knew that foggy was hiding something. Matt had walls up, guarded himself fiercely, never letting anyone all the way in. He had to have a secret, a big one too. Foggy knew, and Karen did too; you could hear it in the way they talked. Whispers about mistakes and matryrs. Whatever it was, it was big, you could feel it. Somehow, however, that made him even more appealing. A dangerous secret only added to his allure. Along with his big heart, helping everyone he could, and that endless, cocky charm.

He was insatiable.

So, naturally, you fell for him.

Hard.

At the realization of your own feelings towards him, things became… different around the office. You tried to suppress your feelings, of course, but when you spent eight hours a day three feet away from each other, it was hard. Definitely easier said than done. And it didn’t help that Matt had what you would call a ‘naturally flirtatious” personality. The comments and banter between you two were getting noticed by Foggy, whose own comments increased tenfold. The tension was rising between you and Matt for sure.

You just didn’t know when it would explode.

Or if it even should.

Or if it even could. Matt flirted with everyone, of course, even Karen and Josie from the bar. Were his comments and compliments unique to you? Did he like you? Or was he just like that, the ever charming, ever incredible Matt Murdock? To top things off, he was your boss. He signed your paychecks, gave you assignments, and was the reason you had a job right now. If you two got together, what would happen in the office? God forbid, if it didn’t work out, would he fire you? You liked your job. You needed your job.

Was Matt Murdock worth it? Was he worth the risk?

One look at his smile as he hung up the phone, and you knew the answer:

Matt Murdock was your ultimate temptation.

“Sorry about that,” Matt began as soon as the phone was on the receiver, but you cut him off.

“Oh please, Matthew. Apologizing for doing your job? Forever the catholic, always the guilt,” You chided, causing him to chuckle.

“How do you always do that?” He asked, causing you to tilt your head in confusion.

“Do what?”

“Get me. Understand me, I mean,” you shrugged in response, unsure of what to say. After a beat of silence, you realized your mistake.

“Oh my god, I-”

“You just shrugged, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I did. Sorry.”

“I thought we covered that apologizing wasn’t necessary, Miss y/l/n?” You rolled your eyes in response, causing Matt to chuckle.

“How did you even know I rolled my eyes?”

“Easy guess,” he said, but it was a lie. Matt always knew when you rolled your eyes, you flared your nostrils just the slightest bit. He had already memorized the tell tale signs of all your emotions: you bit the inside of your mouth when you were anxious, your cheeks flushed when happy, and you picked at your fingertips when you were about to cry. It was something he did with all his girlfriends, easy to be a good boyfriend if you knew exactly how you felt.

You weren’t his girlfriend, though. You wouldn’t ever be, if he had anything to say about it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you, of course. God, did he want you. You were, without a doubt, the most beautiful person he’d ever come across. He’d had Foggy describe you to him way too many times, tried his best to sort through the red fire haze, to finally memorize what you looked like. Matt couldn’t find words to describe your beauty, but he didn’t need to. He was confident you were the most beautiful woman in the world. Not only that, you were good. He opened this law firm to help people, the underdogs. But you, you had been doing that your whole life. Girl scouts, service groups, service projects, head of community service club in high school and college; you were the most selfless person in Hell’s Kitchen, he was sure of it. You always carried an extra twenty dollar bill to give to someone on the street, had a mini cooler outside your apartment stocked full with sandwiches and water, and knew every client Nelson and Murdock had like the back of your hand. You were a better catholic than him by miles, and you weren’t even catholic.

You cared about people with your whole heart; it ended up getting you in less than ideal situations all the time. You told Matt the other day that you really didn’t care what happened to you at the end of the day, if you helped someone, anyone, it was worth it. And that’s when he knew you were the one. You were good, truly good, the kind of good Hell’s Kitchen needed. He wouldn’t let you lose that good because of him. He’s brought endless pain to so many good people, to Foggy, to Karen, to Maggie, and endless others.

You wouldn’t be one of them.

“So, um, I wanted to ask what time we should leave tonight? For the airport?”

“We leave tonight?” Matt had completely forgotten. An old friend of his mother’s in Boston was in some legal trouble, Maggie wouldn’t have asked unless it was serious. Matt agreed to represent her, assuming Foggy would come too. But Foggy was meeting Marci’s parents this weekend. Karen was working on a story for The Bulletin that was time sensitive, meaning she couldn’t get away.

And of course you, with the heart of gold, offered to go with him. You insisted actually, the thought of Matt traveling alone made your heart race.

“Yes… our flight leaves at six pm, we land in Boston around seven. The hearing is tomorrow at eight,” You said, checking your phone to make sure all the times were correct.

“And what time is it now?”

“Almost four. I figured you might have forgotten, that’s why I came in here.”

“Shoot, we probably should get going then,” Matt said, standing up.

“I’ll…. I’ll send the last few faxes then. Split a cab to the airport?”

“On me,” Matt smiled. He listened to the uptick of your heart rate as you walked away, relishing in the sound as he packed up. He was in deep, deeper than he thought. How the hell was he supposed to be alone with you for hours, only an arm rest separating you two?

This was going to be one hell of a trip.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“I’m never visiting Boston again,” you remarked as you got out of the car, trying to calm your breathing. The plane ride from New York was fine, just a little… tension filled. Matt’s thigh was pressed against yours the whole way, his breath would fan down your neck when he wanted to ask for your peanuts. Your hand skimmed his one too many times for it to be an accident, too. You were tired, tired of all this dancing around, of all the moments you and Matt shared with no conclusion. You needed time to clear your head of the Matt induced fog, time to unpack everything on the plane. You were grateful that you two went immediately to the hotel from the airport, although the ride there was nerve wracking as all hell. Time alone was just what the doctor ordered.

“And I thought New Yorkers were bad drivers,” Matt said as he grabbed the bags from the driver, tipping him graciously. You held your arm out for him and he took it, letting you guide him through the lobby. Matt let people guide him all the time, but he especially loved when you did it. You held your head higher, your pulse slowed. You felt safer with him by your side, even though he was completely blind to your knowledge. He made you feel safer, just him, no heightened senses or Daredevil suit. You liked him for him, and that made his own heart skip a beat.

You lead the both of them to the receptionist desk, where you gave the girl working the name of the reservation.

“It should be under Nelson and Murdock, two rooms” you said with a smile. Matt listened as her nails clacked on the keyboard. He heard her pulse quickened a bit as she found and checked the reservation; something was wrong.

“I’m so sorry ma’am, but something went wrong in our system when you booked the rooms. One of your other rooms is already booked,” her voice was strained, but her pulse was steady. She was telling the truth.

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“There’s only one room under your reservation.” Matt heard your teeth grind against each the flesh of your mouth, heard you pick at the skin around your fingernails. You were nervous, the prospect of sharing a room with him made you scared.

You were terrified, actually. There was no way you could share a room with Matt for the night and not jump his bones. He had already gotten you all riled up on the plane ride here. Another sincere compliment, or brush of skin, you were certain your body would take over and kiss him right then and there. And you didn’t know yet, if that was what you wanted. Or what Matt wanted. Or anything, really. You just knew that you couldn’t spend another few hours with Matt without making a move.

“I’m sure we can just book another room, right?” Matt flashed the receptionist one of his signature charming smiles, making a point to hold his cane where it was visible. People took pity on him every day because of his disability, might as well use it to his advantage.

“Normally, Sir, of course. But there’s this skating competition in town, we’re fully booked til next week. I’m so sorry, I don’t know-”

“It��s no big deal, really. Not your fault at all, ok? We’ll be fine with the one room, really.” You said, trying to calm the receptionist down. You sensed she was panicked, scared you were going to lash out. So, despite your better judgement, despite the voice of reason in your head screaming no, you told her it was ok.

You would share a room with Matt.

“There’s two beds though, right?” Matt asked, trying to ease your nerves and his own. He didn’t think he could make it through the night with you next to him and not make a move. You were the ultimate temptation, his personal forbidden fruit. How was he supposed to resist when you would be inches away? He tried his best not to think about your body heat next to him, soft skin against his. He tried not to picture you in your pajamas, probably some skimpy little sleep shorts, revealing everything. He tried not to think about you drifting over to him in your sleep, leg crossing over his. He tried not to think about your soft lips, adored with watermelon flavored chapstick, just begging to be kissed. He tried not to think about any of it.

He failed.

“I’m sorry Sir, but just the one queen. I can offer you unlimited free access to the minibar, however. Free breakfast, too. I can-”

“Free breakfast would be great. Thank you,” You smiled at the receptionist as you finished getting the room key. You didn’t want to inconvenience her, or make her nervous. Yet again, you put everyone else first. Even in this situation, when Matt knew you were nervous, you disregarded your own feelings to make someone else feel better, to help someone else.

Matt wanted you now more than ever.

You lead the both of you in silence to the elevators, unsure of what to say. What was there to say, really? You liked Matt. You thought he might have liked you too. But he asked for two beds, jaw clenched when he did it. Did he not want to share a bed with you at all? Or did the prospect make him nervous too? Was he exhibiting restraint, or disdain? You couldn’t tell.

Matt heard your pulse quicken, your mind was probably racing. As much as he didn’t want to hurt you, didn’t want you in his life because he knew he’d ruin yours, he hated seeing you in pain. He took your hand in his, thumb skimming over your skin.

“We’ll be ok, ok? It’s just for the night. You can take the bed, and I’ll sleep on the floor-”

“Don’t be silly, Matt. We can share. We’ll be fine, we’re adults, right? Nothing wrong with two adults sharing a bed,” You said, trying to rationalize the situation to yourself too. The last part came out wrong, an innuendo when left up to interpretation. Without missing a beat, Matt replied.

“Nothing wrong with that at all.”

Before you could ask what he meant, if he was thinking the same thing you were, the elevator dinged. Matt wrapped his arm around yours, and you gasped at the contact. He leaned in, his lips only inches away from your ear, and whispered.

“Lead the way.”

You did your best to hide the effect Matt had on you as you led him down the hallway. You slowed your breath, tried not to focus on Matt’s warmth at your side. You rambled on about the decor, something about modernization ruining charming. You thought you were doing a decent job of concealing your affection, to be honest.

But Matt would beg to differ.

Your whole body was covered in goosebumps, even your face. Your heart was beating a million miles a minute, despite the casual tone of your voice. He smiled to himself at the effect he had on you, he loved how sensitive you were. He couldn’t help but wonder if that would carry over to more… intimate areas of your life. He tried to not think about you whimpering under him, shivering and moaning at every touch.

No.

He needed to stop.

It wasn’t right, especially when he knew he couldn’t take it further. He needed to stop teasing, stop flirting. It wasn’t fair to you, leading you on like this. You didn’t deserve this. You deserved better. Better than him, for sure. Compared to you, he was basically the devil. He was evil, deep down, something sinister lurked inside him. But you, you were purely good: an angel in his eyes. He had to protect you from himself. He vowed silently, as you unlocked the door with the card, he’d stop the flirting. He’d be civil, but nothing more. Cold, even, if that was what it took.

He had to protect you from himself.

“Here we are,” You said in a sing-songy voice, guiding Matt in the room and placing the bags on the floor.

“Um, the bed is on the wall to your left, the bathroom’s right behind us,” Matt followed your directions, using his cane to find the bed and sit down. It was small, smaller than his bed at home for sure. Not much room to spread out, certainly not enough for two people. You’d be sleeping closer than he thought.

You hummed to yourself as you unpacked your bag, trying to find your pajamas. You wanted to get to bed early, exhausted from the plane ride. Plus, you thought if you and Matt had less time to talk, there’d be less chance of… something happening. Half of you wanted something to happen, to jump on the bed right now and kiss that stupid smirk of his face. Half of you wanted to run downstairs and beg for another room. So, you decided just getting to bed would be better.

However, once you got to the bottom of your suitcase, there were no pjs to be found. You rummaged through your clothes again, thinking maybe somehow they got stuck on top. But nothing. They weren't there.

“Something wrong?” Matt asked. He had been listening to the sound your voice, the soft song under your breath was a comfort to him despite all the noise outside and within the hotel. Sometimes, the world got a little too loud, too much. And, since he wasn’t in his apartment, he didn’t have his normal comforts. His cement walls dulled the noise just enough. But these walls were thin. He didn’t have anything to keep him grounded. Except you. But, when you stopped singing, and started breathing a bit quicker, Matt knew something was off.

“I swear I packed them this morning, but they’re not here,” you sounded defeated as you rummaged through your clothes.

“What? What’s not there?”

“My pajamas. I was gonna change, pencil skirts aren’t exactly the epitome of comfort,” you said as you walked closer to the bed.

“Do you wanna wear mine?” Matt blurted out without thinking. He regretted it immediately, but he couldn’t take it back. The thought of you in his clothing, his smell mixed with yours, made him shutter. It would be a painful night for him for sure, but he’d do anything for your comfort.

“What?”

“I… uh… normally sleep shirtless,” he paused when he heard your intake of breath.

“But, I… uh… brought an extra shirt. In case I wanted to go to the gym, or something. You could..wear it? If you wanted?”

When you didn’t answer, and your heart raced, Matt thought he had made a mistake.

“Or not, if you’re uncomfortable, I-” You cut him off. You weren’t uncomfortable, not at all. You were aroused. The thought of Matt, practically naked next to you all night… well that was something out of a dream.

“No! No. I’d really appreciate that, Matt. Thank you,” you said as your pulse slowed, causing Matt to smile. You weren’t lying, and you were comfortable. As long as you were ok, that’s all Matt needed to hear.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. If you would just hand me my bag,” You grabbed Matt’s bag off the floor and handed it to him. He felt for the zipper and opened it, finding one of his old “Fogwell’s Gym” shirts and handing it to you. Your fingers brushed his as you took the shirt, muttering another soft thank you.

Before Matt could answer back, you unzipped your skirt, stepping out of the tight fabric and throwing it back in your bag. You figured there was no harm, no foul, to getting changed out in the open. The bathroom was cramped, and Matt was blind. He’d have no way of knowing.

The second you unbuttoned your blouse, however, the room was filled with your scent. Bare skin had a distinct smell, and Matt could certainly smell yours. It was intoxicating, the way it filled the room. Hints of lavender, something sweeter in your shampoo. He couldn’t help but clench his hands at his side. Then, he heard the signature snap of a bra, causing his jaw to twitch. You were here, naked and perfect, all for him. He couldn’t help but stand up as you threw on his shirt, his scent now mixed with yours. It was overwhelming, all too much to handle.

He stood up abruptly, grabbing his suitcase off the bed.

“I’m… gonna go to the bathroom,” he said as he hurried away, locking the bathroom door behind him.

Now what was that about?

You thought as you flopped on the bed, relishing in Matt’s scent. His t-shirt smelled like him; you couldn’t help but breathe in deeply and sigh. He just smelled so good, so comforting. Like home. He had given you his t-shirt. Something about that fact felt so… right. You wanted to wear more of his t-shirts, wanted to be enveloped in his scent.

You wanted him.

What was the harm in flirting, anyways? You couldn’t seem to remember any of your reasons for not wanting to be with Matt, all forgotten as soon as you put his t-shirt on. Maybe you should make a move on Matt. That way, at least, you’d know if he felt the same. And if he didn’t, you could move on.

But if he did…

Well, you had the room to yourselves.

You sauntered over to the mini bar, humming the same tune as before. You figured you’d fix you and Matt a drink, wind down. You’d sit on the bed, maybe you’d edge closer. Maybe you’d even kiss. You felt giddy as you poured Matt some whiskey, not Macallan, but it would do. All your fears from earlier were gone, all you knew was one thing. You wanted Matt.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the bathroom door, Matt was trying to convince himself he didn’t feel the same. He couldn’t want you. He desperately tried to remember the vow he made earlier: no flirting. He couldn’t give in, no matter what you said or did. He wanted to protect everyone from evil, and for you, evil was him. He just had to hold it together for a few more hours. He slipped on a pair of sweatpants, leaving his shirt and tie in the bathroom. He opened the door to something completely unexpected.

You were twirling around, holding two drinks and humming to yourself. Matt could feel the slight breeze in the air, taste the alcohol in the air, and hear the tune under your breath.

You were in his shirt. Holding his favorite drink. Humming one of his favorite songs.

Like you were his.

All of a sudden, his vow was thrown out the window. What’s the harm in flirting, anyway? You were clearly flirting yourself, it would be rude of him not to flirt back. He figured as long as he didn’t kiss you, as long as he didn’t give in to temptation, he’d be fine.

As long as he didn’t give in.

Matt cleared his throat, breaking up your own personal dance party. You turned around to Matt, shirtless, sweatpants low on his hips. It took everything in you not to drop the glasses in shock. He was built, more fit than you’d ever thought. His chest was also riddled with scars, something you’d be sure to ask about later. But it didn’t matter right now, all that did was the sight in front of you. Six pack, perfect pecs, muscles carved by god himself down his arms. You couldn’t help yourself as you gulped, warmth spreading through your entire body. You could feel yourself getting wet, just at the sight of him.

Matt could feel it, too. Your body was screaming all the tell tale signs of arousal: your pupils were dilated, blood rushed through your body, particularly down…there. Hell, he could smell the slick between your thighs.

Not giving in to temptation would be harder than he thought.

“I… uh… thought we’d take advantage of the minibar. She did say it was on the house,” you put down your drink and grabbed Matt’s hand. You held it, just for a moment, before wrapping it around the glass.

“On the house, huh,” He brought the glass up to his lips, taking a small swig. Maybe he sipped a little slower than normal. Maybe he licked his lips before bringing the glass back down, savoring in the taste. It was just a little flirting, anyway.

As long as he didn’t go further.

You sauntered over to the bed, sitting on the edge while taking a sip from your glass. Matt soon joined you, sitting close enough for your legs to touch. His mind floated back to a conversation on the plane, when you two were sitting in a similar position to this. He had told you about the first and only time Foggy let him touch his face. He recalled the way you laughed when he told you the story, but also your curiosity at the situation. You kept something to yourself during that conversation, and Matt couldn’t figure out what until this moment.

You probably wanted him to touch your face.

And, again, he figured, what was the harm? It wasn’t even flirting, really. He had touched lots of people’s faces. When it was with women, though, it usually ended in sex. He figured as long as it didn’t end like that, he’d be fine.

As long as he didn’t go further.

“I was wondering…” Matt began, feeling your breath hitch in your throat as he spoke.

“I can usually figure out a rough idea of what someone looks like, put the pieces together like a puzzle,” he felt you nod at his side.

“But in order for me to really know, I have to touch their face. Some blind people hate doing it, or refuse to do it at all. But it helps me, at least, connect to the person. I just need a few minutes to feel out their features,”

“Like you did with Foggy,” you said as you recalled their conversation on the plane. He felt your heart rate increase with anticipation; you knew what he was going to ask.

“Yeah. And I was wondering… maybe I could touch yours? If you were ok with it, I mean, I know it’s weird-”

“I think it’s great, Matt. Sweet of you to even ask, really. I’d love to,” Matt knew you were smiling, your tone was as cheery as ever. He felt you shift on the bed, turning so you were facing him. He did the same. Your legs were now mixed together, his clothed, yours bare. He took a bold move, placing his hand atop your thigh. It was only half covered by his shirt, he could feel your smooth skin under his palm. He didn’t dare move it up, not right now.

“So… what do I do?” You giggled, causing Matt to smile. He loved the sound of your laugh.

“Could you just guide my hands up? To the top of your head. Then I’ll work my way down,” You took Matt’s hands in yours, lifting them up slowly and guiding them to the top of your head. You took a deep breath and dropped his hands, placing your own on his lap. You didn’t exactly know why you were so nervous. I mean, Matt being shirtless in front of you definitely had something to do with it. But you were also scared that Matt wouldn’t like what he felt. You knew it was impossible, Matt not liking you just because of what he felt. But you couldn’t help it.

Slowly, you felt Matt’s hands move down your head, onto your face. He started with your eyebrows, tracing each one with his finger. He moved down to your nose, tracing it’s outline and even booping the tip. That earned a laugh from you, and so Matt did it twice. His fingertips then moved across your eyes, outlining their shape and fluttering against your eyelashes. His fingers glided down your cheeks, painfully slow, as if to commit the skin to memory.

Then he reached your lips.

Soft. That was the only word that came to mind for Matt. He traced the outline of your cupid's bow, dipping a finger down and parting your lips, slowly. Before you could stop yourself, before Matt could pull away, you darted your tongue out, and circled his fingertip. You heard Matt shutter and watched as his jaw clenched, but he didn’t turn away. Instead, his free hand, the one not in your mouth, cradled your jaw. Maybe even a little lower than just your jaw, wrapping tightly around your throat.

He couldn’t help it, not when your tongue felt so good around his finger. It was a dirty move for sure, but it confirmed that you wanted this too. His mind raced with all the things he wanted to try, all the things he wanted to do. He had to have you, he couldn’t resist any longer. You were insatiable.

He had to give in to temptation.

Before he could lean in to the kiss, however, your phone alarm went off. You jumped up scrambled to find the device and turn it off. You cursed yourself for setting a bedtime alarm, wanting to make sure you got enough sleep for the early start tomorrow. You thought you’d be alone, of course. Not sharing a room with your boss, about to kiss.

“What was that?” Matt asked, standing up and placing the glass down on the dresser. He could sense your change in mood.

“I set an alarm this morning to make sure I got enough sleep. We have to be at the courthouse pretty early,” You walked back over to Matt, but he was already walking toward the bed. The alarm was like a shock to his senses. What was he doing? He was about to kiss you, when he told himself he shouldn’t. He told himself he wasn’t gonna go all the way. He liked you of course, wanted to be with you more than anything. But he wouldn’t let himself. Couldn’t. He needed to stop the moment you two were having immediately.

“I guess we should probably get to bed, then,” He said as he undid the covers on one side of the bed.

“We don’t have to-”

“We should, y/n.”

He cursed himself for saying that. He could sense the immediate drop of your face, the slump of your shoulders. He didn’t mean it. He would give anything to grab his glass, wrap his arm around your waist, and join you in your singing. But he couldn’t.

“O-oh… ok,” You walked over to your side of the bed, fishing your phone charger out of your bag as you walked by. Matt was already under the covers, his glasses on the bedside table. You had only seen him without them a few times, on the occasional late night at the office. You knew he wore them to make other people feel better, he had told you how some people found his eyes… uncomfortable. You, however, only found them beautiful. His eyes were warm, rich, homey, just like him.

You joined him under the covers, trying not to touch him as you shifted to get comfortable. You could feel the warmth radiating off his chest, beckoning you in. You already started to feel sleepy, between Matt’s warmth and his scent from his t-shirt. You wanted to cuddle in, fall asleep on his chest. But, his refusal earlier was pretty clear. No matter how he felt about you, he clearly didn’t want to take things further tonight.

Or so you thought.

It took everything in him not to reach out to you and pull you flush against his chest as you got comfortable. He knew you’d be more comfortable on him. He had been this close to you before, just a few hours ago, on the plane. But then, you had clothes to separate you too. Now, nothing. You were in his shirt, only underwear underneath; not even a bra. He could stretch his hands out right now, rake up your his shirt, and-

No.

He needed to stop.

“Good night, y/n,” He said as he rolled away from you.

“G’night, Matty,” you mumbled as you turned over. Your breathing was already slowing, you were going to fall asleep.

Matt did a silent cheer in his head, he’d done it. You were asleep, and now he only had to get through the morning. He could finally relax, knowing now there was no chance of getting together, at least for the night.

Or so he thought.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Warm.

Soft.

Those were the first two thoughts in Matt’s brain as he woke up. He was enveloped in warmth and softness, still in a dream. He was holding you, arm around your waist, as your legs were wrapped around his thigh.

This had to be a dream, right?

Wrong.

He ran his fingers up and down your back, covered by the fabric of his shirt. This was real, he was awake. It wasn’t a dream. He was holding you. It was still night time, too. The hotel was too quiet for it to be anything but. Everyone was asleep.

He moved his arm up, fully prepared to move you off. But you whimpered in your sleep, tightening your grip on his shoulder.

How could he move you off now? When you so clearly wanted to stay, still in a dream. He decided, instead, to place his hands by his side and let you sleep. As long as he didn’t cuddle back, it was fine. He told himself it was fine. He would just will himself back to sleep, silently relishing in your warmth. Everything would be fine, he just had to get back to sleep.

You whimpered again, shifting your legs. You were a noisier sleeper than he originally thought. He heard you mumble something, too jumbled for him to figure out what. Matt felt something wet on his thigh, maybe sweat? He tried to focus on the location, figure out where it was coming from. He soon realized it was right where you were slotted, legs split on his thigh. It wasn’t sweat: it was your slick.

To confirm his suspicions, you bucked your hips, still in a dream. You move faster, grinding yourself up and down his thigh. You were getting yourself off. He scanned your body, trying to figure out if you were awake, if you were doing it on purpose. But, your heartbeat was slow, breathing even. You were asleep, still dreaming. And dreaming about sex, aparently.

“Matty…” You moaned, causing Matt’s hands to wrap around your back. He couldn’t help it, not when you said his name like that. Not only were you getting yourself off on his thigh, you were getting yourself off to him. He was the one making you whimper like this, his thigh was bringing you the friction you needed. You whimpered again, as if to confirm what he was thinking. He felt his cock twitch at your voice, already hard from the slight friction of your legs. He could move you over his crotch so easily, direct you to grind down on him. He could pull down his pants, move your underwear aside, and slot himself in you so easily.

But he shouldn’t, he reminded himself. Couldn’t. This was wrong, you were asleep. Even though he knew how you felt, even though he knew you wanted him, this was wrong. I mean, seriously, what was he doing? You were asleep. He needed to move you off him, needed to sleep on the floor. This wasn’t right, it was beyond wrong.

His name fell from your lips again, though, a sweet cry of pleasure, and something snapped within him. He didn’t care if he was bad for you. He didn’t care if he would ruin you, or hurt you eventually. Not right now, no. All his worries, all his fears fell away. All he could taste, touch, feel, or smell was you.

He had to have you.

He had to give in to temptation.

All of the sudden, Matt heard your heart race. Your eyes fluttered open, confused to see Matt so close. You were just dreaming about him, of course. So why was he so close? Why wasn’t he on the other side of the bed? You soon realized your legs were on his thigh, arms around his shoulders. You were soaking wet too, your arousal leaking onto his thigh. Your dream wasn’t a dream. You were actually using his thigh to get you off.

You panicked and began to move off him, but his arms wrapped around your back kept you flush against him.

“Who told you to stop?” Matt rumbled, voice still filled with sleep. His tone was all low and grovely, sending shocks straight to you core.

“Matt…” you whispered as his hands moved to your hips, slowly shifting you off his thigh and onto his lap. He shifted himself up on the bed and pulled you flush across your chest. Your lips were only inches apart now. You couldn’t really see his face, the only light in the room was the sliver from between the curtains. All you could see was the outline of his face, his lips in front of yours.

“You want this?” His thumbs rubbed small circles on your thighs, an invitation to say no. Despite his position, despite his wanting to take charge, he was giving you an out.

And that’s when you knew you were in.

You didn’t even answer him, just brought your hands to the back of his head and smashed his lips against yours. Even though it had been a few hours, you could still taste the whiskey on his tongue. His kisses were fiery, open mouth, and passionate; it was all too much and not enough at the same time. You began rocking your hips again, grinding your core down on his crotch. He was hard beneath you, his cock slotting right between your thighs through the fabric. The contact caused you both to groan; Matt’s grip on your hips tightened, bringing you down on him harder. You moved your hips faster, breaking the kiss and burying your head on Matt’s shoulder.

“Thaaat’s it, take what you need, pretty girl,” Matt murmured in the darkness. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He’d only kissed you once, but he knew he’d need to taste you for the rest of his life. Your mouth was so incredibly warm, so incredibly sweet. Just like you. In the back of his mind, his conscience was screaming at him to stop. But he didn’t care. He had held back for so long, refused to give in to temptation for as long as he could manage. But he was weak. He couldn’t do it anymore.

The heart wanted what it wanted, and his heart wanted you.

“Need you, Matty,” you said as you picked up your head, resting your forehead on his. His fingers found the edge of your(cross out) his shirt, tugging just slightly so you’d feel the movement. He was asking for your permission, you thought. How sweet. You nodded against his head and he pulled the fabric up, throwing it somewhere across the room. At the scent of your newly exposed skin, Matt groaned. He heard the blood rush to your nipples, making them peak. He took your breasts in his hands, feeling the weight and soft skin. His thumbs brushed your nipples, causing you to arch your back into his touch.

“Matty…” You groaned as he began to kiss down your neck, sloppily and slowly. He was careful not to suck too hard on your neck, afraid of leaving visible marks you’d have to cover tomorrow for the hearing. But once he got to your collarbones, the parts your shirts would cover, well, that was free reign. You couldn’t help but buck your hips as he left his mark on you, littering your collarbones and chest in light purple bruises. He licked his way down to your breasts, nuzzling the soft flesh with his nose. He couldn’t get enough of your scent, it was incredible. He wrapped his mouth around your right nipple, grazing the pebbled skin with his teeth. You arched into his touch again, grinding your hips down a little harder than normal.

“Matt…” You groaned again, causing Matt to release your breast with a pop. He looked up at you as your fingers found their way in his hair. He looked beautiful like this, the soft light from outside illuminating his features just enough.

“Yes…” He teased, resting his head on your chest as he looked up.

“Said I need you,” You mumbled as you swivelled your hips against his to prove your point. Matt knew what you meant, of course. But he wanted to tease you a little further. He’s been dreaming of this moment for months, holding himself back from what he really wanted. But now that he had you, he wanted to make it last. He didn’t know if there would be another moment like this, not after you discovered the real him. He had to draw this out.

“You have me,” he answered back, nuzzling in your chest once more. But you didn’t like that answer. You were painfully wet, had been since the almost kiss before bed. You needed him, and now.

“I said… I need… you,” you said as you raked your hands down Matt’s chest, eventually finding the waistband of his sweatpants. His breath hitched as he felt your fingers slip under the fabric, knowing what was next. He sat up in anticipation, leaning against the headboard of the bed. He was going commando, just as you thought. Cocky bitch. Your hand found his cock, painfully hard against his stomach and leaking precum from the tip. He was weeping for you. You couldn’t help but take pity on him, wrapping your hands around him and stroking up.

Matt shuddered at the contact, throwing his head back in ecstasy. Your touch was incredible, he didn’t think he could ever get enough. You knew just how to work him, long, slow strokes while rubbing the tip with your thumb. He had never had sex with someone who knew immedately what he liked on the first go around. He cursed himself for holding back for so long.

Who knew forbidden fruit could be so sweet?

While you were still stroking him, Matt sat up on the bed, finding the waistband of your underwear. He didn’t pull it off yet, instead electing to run his fingers under the waistband across your skin. After a few seconds, you removed your hand from his cock, kneeling up on the bed and pulling his sweatpants down. Matt whimpered at the loss of contact, but he could sense you only a few feet away. You then took off your own underwear, throwing it across the room before hopping back on his lap. His hands immediately found your hips again, but he was surprised when you used your knees to raise yourself up. Then he realized: you were going to ride him.

“Gotta prep you first,” Matt mumbled in the darkness, grip tightening on your hips to move you off. But you held your ground, placing a hand on his chest to get his attention.

“Just want you,” You whispered in the darkness. It was true, you did just want him. You had dreamt about this for months, about what it would finally feel like to be filled with him. To have his arms wrapped around you as he pounded into you, his stubble rough against your chest. And now that that moment was in sight, well, you weren’t going to wait any longer.

“Sweetheart… let me at least eat you out a little bit. Please?” Matt tilted his bed, giving his best pout. He didn’t want to hurt you, he wanted to take things slow. Make sure you were ready for him, make sure this was as amazing for you as it was for him. You were good, kind, sweet, soft. You deserved to be treated with grace.

“Matt…” You began to stroke his cock up and down your folds, coating him in your slick. His senses already kicked into overdrive at the feeling, he couldn’t imagine what it was going to be like when he was inside you.

“I-it… it’ll hurt,” he shuttered, already losing his composure as you teased your entrance with his tip. You leaned in close, as if to kiss him, but you paused just before you reached his lips. Instead, you took your free hand and grabbed his wrist, bringing his hand up to wrap around your throat.

“And who says I don’t like the pain?”

And with that, you began to sink down on him slowly, relishing in the painful stretch. Matt was right, he probably should have prepped you first. But the pain was pleasurable because it was Matt causing it. His grip tightened around your throat lightly, just enough so he could feel your pulse underneath. You both cried out in pleasure as you bottomed out, the feeling of Matt filling you too much to bear.

Before you could set the pace, however, Matt bucked his hips up into yours. Inside you, his tip brushed your cervix, causing you to gasp in pleasure. You began to move up and down slowly, intent on building the pace.

But Matt had other plans.

He removed his hand from your throat, gripping both your hips as tight as he could. He began to bounce you up and down at an insanely fast pace, intent to bring you to your peak as fast as possible. He brushed your cervix with each thrust, hitting so deep inside of you you thought you would burst. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping, your whines, and Matt’s grunts.

You had no words. No thoughts in your brain. All you could do was sit there and take it as Matt pounded into you, the pleasure clouding your thoughts. It was incredible; you had had nothing like it before.

Matt took your silence as shock, however, and decided to tease you a little more. There was still so much he wanted to try, still so much he wanted to do. But with the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, squeezing him tighter and tighter as you moved closer to your peak… he wasn’t going to last long.

“B-begging for it e-earlier,” He began, picking up the pace of his thrusts. You were getting closer and closer with each thrust, as he moved you up and down.

“B-but now y-you can’t t-take it, huh?” You couldn’t form words, all you could do was moan in response. This was incredible… Matt was incredible.

“Y-yes. You. Can,” He emphasized each word with each downstroke, your skin slapping against his. On one particular thrust, while you were flat on his lap, Matt thrusted up into you. You cried out in pleasure, his movement bringing you to your peak. Your vision went blank, mind numb. All you could think was one word:

Bliss.

As you collapsed on top of him, Matt continued to thrust until his own end. It was only a few strokes after you; with your walls squeezing him like a vice, and your lips mumbling his name, he couldn’t take it. He came with a groan, not even bothering to ask if he could come inside. Everything felt too incredible to form words. You laid on his chest for a few minutes, as his fingers rubbed soft circles on your hips and back. A silent apology for the bruises he was sure to leave. You made a silent agreement to talk it out tomorrow, whatever it was. Unbeknownst to you, you both wanted more. But you’d figure that out later. All that mattered to you right now was the sound of Matt’s heartbeat, the warmth of his arms on your back. All that mattered was him. After your breathing finally slowed, Matt carefully placed you beside him on the bed. He got up, returning after a moment with a warm washcloth. He began to clean between your thighs as he spoke.

“I didn’t mean to cum inside, I-”

“S’fine, Matty, pill. Come backkkk” you whined, reaching your arms up and out for him. He couldn’t help but smile at your adorableness as he threw the washcloth on the floor, crawling back to you slowly. Once he was in reach, you immediately snuggled into his chest, wrapping your arm around his torso. Matt wrapped both his arms around you fiercely, protecting you from the cold and the outside world.

You hummed in contentment as Matt finally settled in. Your eyes were closed, but Matt reached a hand up and brushed your hair away anyway.

“G’night, Matt,” You mumbled into his chest, already halfway into a dream.

“Good night, Sweetheart,” Matt whispered back, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. He only had one thought in his head before he fell asleep.

He was so glad he gave into temptation.

FIN

taglist (from previous post): @i-said-it-n-i-meant-itt-it @crazyxshit @peakyrogers @laura-palmer-del-rey @pettypartypooper @ferxaniti @m0chaminx @srquinnhexa @fairyofspring @mnxxlove @kayxvii @hisdoll107 @hellmoonsin @mattmurdock82 @zabblegrabble @leto-duke @baconmuffins1216 @laprvphette @flawssy227 @the-dragonsqueen @galaxysgal @leossmoonn @shakespeareanwannabe @dontsaypetertingle @iflostreturntobudcooper @aliceblisss @phantomkindalikejaiden @phoebe-danvers @sfr99 @twentyfirstcenturyfox @justlenastuff @btsforlif @optic-neenee @foxe @floof-butt @general-latino @tobyr68 @tatespillows @aimerriarkle @tooflef @trapped-in-this-love @wasicskosgirl @tiredpurpleee @sadgirlhours068s247 @imgonnaragnorockurshit @delmoyy

#matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil smut #matt murdock x you

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strawwritesfic · 3 years ago

Text

Roronoa Zoro x Female!Straw Hat!Reader: Tale as Old as Wasted Time

Summary: It’s a little like Beauty and the Beast…if Beauty had no grace and the Beast had no sense of direction.

Rating/Warnings: All (some mild bad language)

Requester: bleuwales via e-mail

Prompt: Cherry Blossoms; could pick any Straw Hat crew member as romantic lead

Notes: I haven’t read or watched One Piece since 2012, so I hope this is still acceptable. It’s absolutely set before the timeskip, if I don’t make that apparent enough in the text. Do they have makeup in canon? They have makeup now because I say so.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Tale as Old as Wasted Time

Sea legs never did come naturally to you. Before being invited to join the Straw Hat pirates on their various quests for personal fulfillment, you’d hardly ever been onboard a boat at all. The crew assured you that your balance and coordination would return with time, but that time had yet to come. Needless to say, you found this very frustrating. None of them seemed to have any problems! Incredible tasks like taking on Sea Kings barehanded or outmaneuvering a man made of rubber determined to get the last bit of meat occurred on a regular basis. You, on the other hand…well, basic tasks like applying makeup without putting an eye out (yours or any of your friends’) became daunting asks of you.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Someone pounded on the door behind you. Their beat was steady and their force great. Already focused on trying not to let the rolling floor upset your aim, you jumped at the noise, fumbled the mascara wand in your hand, and dropped it right next to your feet.

“Oh, come on!” you moaned, bending to scoop the item up.

No close look was necessary to tell you that the wand was too filthy to use anymore. You didn’t know what caused such a great quantity of hair to come off Usopp whenever he used the Going Merry’s only bathroom, but clearly you should have tried to sweep up after him before attempting to beautify yourself. Just great. All that time you’d spent waiting for Robin and Nami to finish their routines so they couldn’t watch yours wasted. What was worse was that the mascara belonged to the latter. Just because she’d agreed to let you borrow it didn’t mean Nami wouldn’t charge you out the nose once she found out you ruined one of her belongings.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Hurry up in there, would you?” shouted a male voice, only slighted muffled by the door between the two of you.

You knew that voice. You also knew there was no use arguing with its owner. He wouldn’t care that you only had mascara on one eye, no lipstick, and still hadn’t figure out what to do with your hair. When Zoro wanted his fellow crew members to hurry, the majority of them hurried. Well, you did, at least. Doing what he wanted was always so much easier than trying to explain to him why you would not.

“C-coming!” you called.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“If you’re not out in ten seconds, I’m breaking in!”

“I said I’m coming!”

A flash of color as you passed the mirror was all you saw of your reflection. Seeing anything in greater detail was out of the question now. There was no use crying over spilled milk, after all, and if you stopped, Zoro would certainly coming crashing in at the worst possible moment. You put on a burst of speed as he began to count down. Hopefully if you stumbled in your rush to greet him, you would not also rip a portion of your furisode. That really would be something to cry over. All the money you’d spent on it would have been put to better use paying Nami back for her destroyed makeup.

“Four…three…two…!”

With a squeal, you launched yourself up the short set of stairs leading to the exit. Your sandal caught the top step. Somehow you still managed to get your hands on the surface of the door so that you could shove it open. A triumphant cry tried to leave your mouth as you tumbled onto the sunny deck—but the poor cry got rudely cut off when your haphazard momentum sent you face-first into something very hard that stood directly in your path.

“What are you doing?” Zoro asked.

Stars spun around your head. Through them you could see a portion of cloudless blue sky. Nothing more. That was odd. When had you got on your back? Last thing you remembered, you’d been trying to get outside before he could come retrieve you.

If Zoro did not sound thrilled by whatever was going on, he looked even less so. His head suddenly popped into view. He wore his usual frown. Actually, he wore his usual everything. As you struggled to sit up, you saw that he had done absolutely nothing during all that time you’d been trapped in the bathroom praying Robin would not offer to do your hair for you again. For heaven’s sake, he was even wearing the same plain white shirt as he always did, too! Life just wasn’t fair.

Zoro seemed to misinterpret the unblinking stare you set upon the shape of his pecs bulging against his shirt fabric. Instead of saying anything about that, he simply stuck one enormous hand out toward you.

“Here,” he said.

“I’m fine. Thank you,” you said stiffly.

Obviously you were not fine. Your frantic wiggling had not got you back on your feet yet, but Zoro didn’t push. He retracted his hand with a careless shrug and a flat, “Suit yourself.”

This left you to spend the next several minutes attempting to balance well enough to stand up. You could feel his sharp gaze upon you every second of the endeavor��or at least you thought did. When you finally achieved your goal, you found him looking out toward the island the Going Merry had docked at, and no sign at all that he’d been watching you. He hadn’t been watching anything as far as you could tell. Looking around, you suddenly realized that there was nothing else going on for him to look at.

“Where is everyone?” you asked.

“Gone.”

“Gone?”

He did not so much as glance back at you. “Yeah. Gone. They all left. You get that goop in your ears or something?”

“When did they leave?”

“I don’t know. A while ago. You took too long trying to make yourself prettier. Luffy got bored.”

You hoped Zoro’s preoccupation with the ship’s immediate surroundings would prevent him from noticing your heart sink. His choice of words had not escaped you: Tried to make yourself look prettier. Meaning you had failed to do so. Meaning all your effort had been wasted. Meaning you weren’t pretty.

Unfortunately, while you were busy with these thoughts, Zoro finally swiveled his head in your direction. “What are you making that face for?”

“I’m not making any face!” you snapped.

“Yes, you are.”

“Okay! I’m sorry I spent so much time in the bathroom!” Zoro’s apathy rarely failed to rile you right up on the occasions he chose to pick at you instead of Sanji. This time was no different. “It’s not every day Luffy can convince Nami to let us take a detour for something fun. Do you know I haven’t seen a single cherry blossom since we left my home? Pardon me for wanting to look the part!”

If his slightly pursed lips were any indication, Zoro found your tirade more confusing than alarming. “Why is there a specific way you need to do your makeup to look at flowers?”

“That’s not the point. It's—what do you care anyway? Nami and Robin got all dressed up, too!”

“The difference is they didn’t take forever and day to get dressed up.”

“Oh, and I suppose what you’ve done is better?”

“What, nothing?”

“Exactly!”

“I’d say that’s a lot better, actually.”

He didn’t even have to think about it, that was how quickly he answered. What was worse was that he was right. If only you could look baseline pretty in nothing but your day-to-day wear. Not even putting on a furisode and one eye’s worth of mascara could help someone like you, but on Zoro…

Luckily you lurched out of your daydreaming more quickly than you typically did. This man didn’t deserve your daydreams. As rude as he was to you on a regular basis, he hardly deserved your time of day. Why waste your energy on him now? You forced yourself to exhale slowly until you thought you could speak calmly again.

“I’m not going to have this argument with someone who thinks I’m ugly,” you said.

“What are you—”

“Just tell me which way everybody went. Maybe I can catch up with them if I hurry.”

Zoro snorted. “Good luck with that. If I were you, I’d just give it up as a bad job now. Maybe you can see some cherry blossoms next year, once you’ve learned to get ready a little faster.”

“That’s the pot called the kettle black,” you muttered, before lifting your voice to say, “The festival wasn’t supposed to start for another few hours. I know I was not in the bathroom that long.”

“You sure about that?” he asked, raising one thin brow.

“Just because I can’t walk a straight line on a moving ship does not mean I am incapable of sensing the passage of time. Now, would you pretty please quit being a marimo head and point me in the right direction?”

Now it was his turn to stare at you. You had no idea why. It wasn’t like you were the first one to call him a marimo head; Sanji called him that almost exclusively. Was it really even an insult? Maybe Zoro had been offended by your condescending tone instead. Well, if that was the case, you weren’t about to apologize. He didn’t have to help you. Nothing could stop you from simply marching onto dry land all by yourself and—

Without a word, he turned on the spot and headed for the nearby plank.

“Where are you going?” you asked.

Your question didn’t break his stride for a moment. Off Zoro continued to tramp off on his long legs. Soon he would vanish entirely under the vivid boughs of the trees beyond. Panicked, you wobbled as fast as you could to the Merry’s railing.

“W-wait!” you shouted. “Where are you—”

He cut you off with a glance over his shoulder. “Are you coming or not?”

“Coming? Coming where?”

“It would be easier if I just took you to them.”

Oh. Oh no. You did not like the implication of Zoro’s words at all. Surely he couldn’t mean what you thought he meant. But what else could he mean?

“Easier than what?” you asked suspiciously.

“Than giving you directions.”

That was exactly what you’d been afraid of. If your choices came down to following Zoro into the woods or missing the cherry blossom festival entirely, missing the festival was absolutely the wisest move of the two. No plan could be worse than letting this man lead you anywhere—but the way he kept standing expectantly at the end of the plank led you to believe this had not occurred to him.

“A-Are you sure?” you asked weakly. “There’s really no need for you to bother yourself. I know you aren’t that interested in this whole thing.”

“Sure, but you are.”

“And I’ll find my own way there! Really, Zoro, why don’t you just stay here? That way you can take a nap while the ship is quiet, or whatever it is you get up to when we’re all away having fun without you.”

Something in his sharp eyes hardened a little. He considered you like that just a bit longer, then he crossed his log-like arms across his chest and shook his head. “No way. Someone like you would only get lost.”

How could anyone have things as backwards this man did? Following him was asking to be lost. You would have much better luck striking out on your own. Sure, you didn’t have any idea what the island looked like and the one crew member you could always rely on to get you where you needed to go had undoubtedly taken the only map…but you liked your chances of finding your friends by wandering aimlessly around a lot better than you did you did your chances if you accompanied Zoro anywhere.

“You can sit there and dawdle all you want,” his voice broke into your thoughts. “The longer you wait, the more likely it is that they’re going to do everything without you.”

“Yes, but—”

Again he interrupted you without having to say anything. One eyebrow shot up toward his short green hair. You swallowed your complaint with a sigh before you gingerly made your way step by tiny step down the plank. An enormous exhale followed your putting your feet on dry land. How you had missed it! Nothing felt as good as knowing you could dance, jump, or simply walk a straight line without having to fear tripping over your own two feet. Perhaps you might have done any number of those things, had Zoro not greeted you by crouching right in front of you.

“Huh?” you said intelligently.

“Hop on,” he said.

“Hop on what?”

“My back. What else?”

While the broad expanse of Zoro’s back was certainly more inviting than you’d want to admit, you immediately moved away from him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I kid? It’ll be easier to keep track of you that way, right?”

“And a fall from that height would kill me.” Or ruin your furisode at the very least. Since you’d probably have to trade it to Nami to just begin repaying her for her makeup, you weren’t all that eager to ruin your only bargaining chip in exchange for the momentary soothing of your libido. “I’m not Chopper, Zoro. I’m not going to suddenly vanish on you.”

“You really think you can keep up with me?”

“Yes,” you lied. “I do.”

Rather than call you out on this blatant untruth, Zoro stood up without further argument. You held your breath. Exactly why, you didn’t know. There was no immediate emergency that might otherwise have convinced him to physically throw you on his back without your consent. Then he squared his shoulders and headed for the tree line, causing you to realize exactly why you were so nervous.

“At least I know Luffy will refuse to leave without you,” you said as you hurried to catch up with him.

“Huh?” Zoro asked.

“Never mind. You sure you know where they were going?”

“I have eyes, so yes. I’m sure.”

There wasn’t much you could say to contradict that Zoro did have working eyes. On the other hand, everyone in the crew knew he couldn’t find his way off the ship without help…Well, everyone except Zoro. Unless you wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon moping alone on deck, though, following him through the low-hanging branches of heavy pink flowers was your only option.

How big could the island be anyway? You doubted any of you would be there unless Luffy had latched onto your stories about the cherry blossom festivals of your youth, after which he’d proclaimed that the crew would certainly be attending the very next one you came across. Nami had found the place, of course. She hadn’t mentioned there being anything else worthwhile here. In fact, there wasn’t really anything or anyone of note outside the trees and the people that took care of them. That was probably the reason she’d okayed the stop: No one, not even Luffy, was likely to get in any trouble on a one-day stop like this one.

After trailing after Zoro like a lost puppy for ages, you realized you’d managed to do the impossible. You had gotten into an absolute heap of trouble. The sun above the tree tops was starting to dip low enough to turn the sky red. All of that walking—perhaps hours of it!—had got you nowhere. Not one sign that your friends had passed through this area appeared. Heck, you hadn’t seen a single hint of there being human civilization anywhere nearby! Worse still, your companion showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

“Zoro,” you said breathlessly, trying and failing to match his enormous steps.

Evidently, he didn’t hear you, because he just kept on marching.

You tried again, a little louder, “Zoro, I don’t think we’re going the right way.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because—”

A sudden sharp pain in your side cut you off. You could go no further. Before you could fall flat on your face on land for once, you came to a stop. Zoro didn’t notice. Even your great gasps for breath didn’t distract him. He was almost out of sight before you mustered up enough oxygen to shout:

“Because there’s no one else here!”

This effort did little to aid your attempts to regain your strength. So exhausted were you by the forced march that the pink forest spun around your head. Once Zoro vanished, there would be no catching up to him.

Thankfully your cry seemed to alert him to the situation as well. He froze. The back of his head tilted upward. Surely he noticed the same thing that you did: The island around you rang with nothing but silence.

“If they were anywhere around here, we’d be able to hear them. At least we’d be able to hear Usopp and Luffy and Chopper,” you said hoarsely. “Face it, Zoro. We’re lost.”

“I can’t believe those guys went and got themselves lost,” Zoro said, more to himself than to you.

“Fine. Whatever. We’re lost. They’re lost. Does it matter who’s lost? The point is, we can’t find our friends. We probably can’t even find the ship.”

“I told them not to wander off like th—What do you think you’re doing?”

Trust him to turn back to you the moment you collapsed in a heap. You simply had no energy left. Certainly you had no energy left to argue with him. Still wheezing, you crawled across the soft grass until you reached a sturdy tree trunk. The force with which you threw your back against it sent a cascade of petals across your vision, which unfortunately obscured Zoro’s approach until he stood right above you.

“Come on,” he said. “We won’t find them by sitting on our asses.”

“What’s the point? It’s getting dark. The festival probably finished ages ago. And I’m tired.”

“You wouldn’t be so tired if you’d just let me carry you as planned. Here, just get on—”

You let out a wild laugh. “Oh, no. No way. I am not going anywhere else with you today. If I did, we’d probably wind up on an entirely different island. No, thank you. I’m staying here.”

“Why are you being such a big baby about this? You’re the one that insisted on coming out here just to stare at a bunch of stupid trees.”

“And you’re the one that insisted on taking me to see the stupid trees. I wanted to find them on my own. You didn’t have to come along.”

“I came along because I felt sorry for you. Don’t worry, I can promise you that won’t ever happen again.”

“Good! Because I don’t need you to pity me for being ugly as sin!”

It wasn’t very often that you and Zoro came to loggerheads like this. He wasn’t easily ruffled, and he was surrounded by much easier targets than a girl that had to fight to stay upright more often than not. You didn’t enjoy catching his attention, not when you realized how stupid you looked. Getting his attention by making him angry wasn’t ideal either…but as he looked at you then, the anger faded from his face, and you realized that his new expression was much, much worse.

“What are you talking about, ugly as sin?” he demanded, crossing his gigantic arms over his chest.

Too late, you realized you’d given too much away. “Nothing. Forget it.”

“No. You said something about that before, on the Merry. Spit it out.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Quit being an idiot.”

“Oh, so now I’m ugly and stupid, is that it?” you spat.

His eyes narrowed. You scowled right back. After about half a second, you gave up. If you insisted on snapping at him about your appearance, even someone as oblivious as Zoro was bound to notice you kept bringing up the subject.

“Fine.” Sighing, you a ran a hand through your ruined hair—not that it had been in any right state to begin with. “Earlier you told me I can’t even make myself pretty when I try. I know you don’t think much of me, but I guess…I guess I didn’t realize I was so hideous even you could see that.”

Such a confession got no reaction from the man standing in front of you. He didn’t even bother opening his eyes wider. Instead he continued to glare at you for what felt like an eternity. Then he snorted, unwound his arms, and plunked himself down on the ground right next to you.

“You are an idiot,” he announced as he closed his eyes. After that, he went quiet.

Your mouth fell open. It was one thing for Zoro to think you were unattractive. That was something you could live with, especially since Sanji would willingly tell you otherwise if you ever asked. Zoro thinking you were stupid was another.

Perhaps your gaping went on for too long, because a little while later he slid open one eye in your direction. “What I said was that you took too long trying to get prettier. Now, am I crazy, or does that not have the word ‘ugly’ anywhere in it?”

“You didn’t have to come right out and say it. Saying that I tried to get pretty makes it obvious that you think I failed.”

“Of course you failed. You’re already pretty. There’s no point in you trying to make yourself prettier. What,” he added, twisting his body a little toward you. “Why are you making that face again?”

“I-I’m not making any face!” you said as you hastily tried to hide your shock and pleasure with one of your sleeves.

Zoro looked very much like he wanted to argue, but then he seemed to think better of it and laid back down. “Yeah. You said that before, too.”

“I’m sorry. You just caught me off guard, is all. You really think I’m pretty?”

Your cheeks burned immediately after asking this question. How pathetic could you be? There was using one’s looks to get what one wanted like Nami did, and then there was fishing for compliments like you were doing now. If the rest of your behavior that day hadn’t driven Zoro to ditch you in the middle of some unfamiliar woods, this absolutely would. To your surprise, however, he answered seriously:

“I don’t think you’re pretty. I know you’re pretty. Then you go and do bizarre things like only put makeup on half your face. Why are women so weird about their appearances?”

“But—but you seemed so upset that I was in there for so long and I didn’t look any better,” you pointed out.

“No, I was upset because you were so worried about making sure you looked like Nami that you were going to miss the one thing you’d been yammering on about for weeks. I didn’t want you to miss it after I had to hear about it so damn much.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, tilting your head upward to watch one flower-laden branch swing up and down in the cooling breeze. “Guess that didn’t work out. I wish they hadn’t all left without me.”

“If it’s any consolation, I did try to get Luffy to calm down and stick around a little longer,” Zoro said quietly.

“You did?”

“Mm.”

You shot him a smile that he couldn’t see with his eyes shut. “Thank you. Thank you for trying to get me there in time, too. Even if we didn’t make it.”

“Talk about a waste of time. You were right. I should have stayed on the ship and taken a nap.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it was a complete waste of time. Maybe I didn’t get to attend a festival with my friends like I wanted, but I still got to see the blossoms with you. That means something where I come from, you know?”

Zoro made no reply. You held your breath, waiting for him to tell you off for being so sappy, or to remind you that him knowing you were pretty wasn’t anything more than a statement of fact. He remained silent. Frowning, you leaned toward him…

…only for him to let out a tremendous snore that made you leap back against your tree trunk.

“Zoro? Are you taking a nap right now?” you asked.

The continued snores indicated that he really was. You scrambled to your feet, grabbed one of his arms, and started heaving.

“Zoro? Zoro! You can’t sleep right now. It’s getting dark! We have to get back to the ship!”

But your cries of desperation were to no avail. No matter how you pushed, pulled, or shoved his massive body, he was well and truly out. The darkness settled in overhead as you gave up trying to rouse him. With as bad as your day had turned out to be, it was no surprise that you were stuck essentially alone outside in a strange place.

Today hadn’t been all bad, though, had it? You had learned that Zoro—as attractive and as gruff as he might have been—thought you were pretty even without your sea legs. Now you just had to hope that Nami would choose to stage a search and rescue before she discovered just what you’d done to her makeup before Zoro made his big reveal.

#fan fic #straw writes #reader insert #second person pov #one shot #request #roronoa zoro #one piece #zoro #roronora zoro x reader #roronora zoro x you #roronora zoro x y/n #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x y/n

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years ago

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Cookie Cutter Boyfriends

The bakery wasn't new to the area but Jaskier was constantly surprised by the variety of people who came and went. There were a couple of regulars but fewer than he'd anticipated. Some people he wished would come back, others he was glad to see go. However, the two beefcakes that just walked in, Jaskier prayed to any listening deity that they would be back repeatedly.

"What can I get you gents?" Jaskier asked with his most winning smile.

Eyes like molten honey scanned the selection and Jaskier wanted to tuck the strands of white hair behind the man's ear to see his face better.

"Cookies. The personalised ones."

"A fine choice," Jaskier trilled and pulled the tray out. "I can put any name or message on there for you. Even a phone number, if you want to give it to a special someone."

So maybe Jaskier was flirting and hoping for a number from the man for himself. But it seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"Write Eskel on one," the man said, carefully spelling out the name while the other smiled at him indulgently. It had Jaskier's heart fluttering at the sweetness.

"And what shall I put on yours?"

"You should put a heart on either side of Geralt's name," Eskel piped up with a snicker. He got an elbow in the ribs for it but didn't seem to mind.

Obliging, Jaskier did as told, curling the most perfect hearts he could onto the cookie. Done, he popped them in a box and put them on the counter by the till. "Anything else I can do for you today? Does your, uh, friend want anything?"

Geralt's eyes widened before saying, "He's my boyfriend."

Of course he was, the two looked beautiful together and Jaskier sighed internally. However, he couldn't help but note the look horror on Eskel's face. Hopefully he hadn't accidentally helped Geralt out himself and his boyfriend when they were trying to keep things a secret.

"Well, good for you both!" Jaskier mustered up a smile and nodded at the small rainbow flags by the till. "I sometimes do flag cookies if the mood strikes. Usually on a Friday."

The transaction was processed in silence and at speeds. Jaskier could only watch as the two bundled out of his bakery and, as soon as the door closed behind them, Eskel was asking Geralt something, face torn between despair and entertainment. If Jaskier could trust his lip reading, he could have sworn Geralt had said something along the lines of "I panicked, okay?".

Somehow, Geralt and Eskel became semi-regulars. They didn't pop in on a specific day each week but they were bound to appear either independently or with each other. Each time they did, Jaskier watched them with heart eyes. Eskel was broad, almost apologetically large but kind and gentle. He was quite the sight to behold but Jaskier had an even softer spot for Geralt who really looked like he needed to relax. So, whenever he came by alone, Jaskier slipped an extra cookie in his bag or asked him to be a taster for a newer cupcake flavour.

It was all going well until Geralt came into the bakery with someone new. Another well-built, handsome man but with a sharp edge to his energy. He made a beeline for the display case by the till.

"Please don't knock on the glass, it scares the muffins," Jaskier said by way of greeting and got a bark of a laugh.

"I'll be careful, don't you worry. It's Geralt you need to keep an eye on."

Which Jaskier diligently was. Well, he was checking out Geralt's backside. Tearing his gaze away, he cleared his throat.

"I'm glad Geralt has brought a friend along today."

"Friend?" The man stood up straight with a hand over his heart. "Geralt, what have you been telling people? I'm his boyfriend!"

Which just didn't compute. Geralt had called Eskel his boyfriend. The mild panic of figuring it out was interrupted by a low growl of "Lambert" that was both a threat and fond exasperation.

"What might people think?" Lambert cried out dramatically. "Are you ashamed of our love?"

A hand clamped on the back of Lambert's neck and Geralt stood next to him, not letting go. "Jaskier, a couple of dark chocolate and ginger cookies please and a tray of lemon muffins."

Hastily putting everything in boxes, Jaskier tried not to let his imagination go too wild. Maybe Eskel was Geralt's boyfriend but so was Lambert. It wasn't unheard of really. It gave hope to Jaskier that they might take a liking to him and invite him home for a wild night. He could only watch as they walked out and the first thing Geralt did was cuff Lambert on the back of the head.

Things only got more weird. The next time Geralt was in, he was trailed by another man. Lithe, seemingly on the edge of bursting out giggling and he made a beeline for the counter.

"You're Jaskier, right?" The man held a hand out. "I've heard so much about you! I'm Aiden, Geralt's boyfriend."

Face schooled into something carefully blank, Jaskier nodded. "A pleasure to meet you."

"I think the pleasure is all mine." The wink was followed by a blatant once over and a low whistle. In the background Geralt closed his eyes, jaw twitching as he visibly counted backwards from ten. This time Aiden was the one who asked for a dozen cookies with an array of pride flags on them, two of each, pan, bi, ace, nonbinary, trans and demi. Oddly, the polyamory one Jaskier had started making since meeting Geralt and his boyfriends was left unrequested. The two left and Jaskier rubbed at his temple, trying to figure out just how four incredibly attractive men had found happiness with each other.

Only a week later Jaskier was waiting for a customer to make up his mind. He was the most silently intense man Jaskier had ever encountered and he really wished he'd hurry up and leave. Alas, he was taking so long, looking over everything in the display cases like the choice was of the utmost importance.

"I'll take two cherry and almond slices."

Cutting said cake, Jaskier was relieved and hoped that once the man had gone, he'd not be back again. The sound of the bell above the door had him looking up and Geralt stood there, alone for once. However, he eyed the man by the counter with a closed off expression which remained as the man took his slices and walked past Geralt, shoulders brushing.

"Geralt.

"Cahir."

It was awkward and Jaskier tried not to pry. But curiosity won out. "Another boyfriend."

From the door Cahir laughed. "He wishes."

For a moment Geralt stared at the ground before squaring his shoulders. "They're not my boyfriend. They're dating Eskel."

Immediately Jaskier adjusted his internal monologue to reflect the new pronouns. Though what Geralt just said made no difference.

"Are they a paramour to your polycule?"

"No." Geralt shook his head firmly. "Cahir and Eskel are a couple. So are Lambert and Aiden."

Not understanding, Jaskier wet his lips and cast a glance around. His eyes landed on a familiar group on the sidewalk outside the shop, making no attempt to disguise the fact they were all watching. Cahir and Eskel were leaning shoulder to shoulder as they munched on their cake. Meanwhile Lambert leered and Aiden sent him a thumbs up.

"I'm not sure I understand," Jaskier said. "I thought you said they were all your boyfriends."

Feet shuffling on the spot, Geralt cleared his throat. "Lambert and Eskel are my brothers." Which made even less sense and Jaaskier hummed, desperately trying to understand without asking whether Geralt really just admit to being in an incestuous relationship.

"I'm not dating any of them."

But you said-"

"I panicked." Geralt was watching Jaskier intently. "You were cute, flirty and I panicked. I wanted to ask you out."

A giggle bubbled out of Jaskier. He couldn't quite wrap his head around it but that wasn't a problem in the moment.

"Well then, how about a personalised cookie, on the house?" He grabbed Geralt's favourite and, with a flourish, wrote his own name and number on it, dotting the 'i' with a heart. Handing it over, he smiled. "I told you these cookies were great for phone numbers."

Outside a cheer went up as Geralt's family decided that the outing had been a success.

#geraskier #lambden #eskhir #geralt/jaskier #lambert/aiden #eskel/cahir #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #eskel #aiden #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #fake dating #pining #tldr: geralt panics and claims many boyfriends

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wizkiddx · 3 years ago

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this deleted itself but the req was for an ill reader who likes to try and carry on even if they feeling shit and tom noticing I think?!?

Summary: you take start to feel a bit shit at toms family barbecue and get caught out and taken care of

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It should've be lovely, an evening in the rare but much appreciated British summer sun in Dom and Nikki’s garden. Everyone was there; all the Holland boys; both sets of Tom’s grandparents; Haz and his long time girlfriend Lucie. It was a reunion of sorts, although no one had been away working, you’d somehow all timed your individual holidays simultaneously. You and Tom to Australia; Sam and Harry to south-east Asia; Paddy, Dom and Nikki to Sweden. Having all returned in the space of a week, everyone was catching up, involving great British barbecues (which are always a little disappointing) and a fair amount of booze.

You were sat on the garden furniture with Tessa (Tom’s grandma), Nikki and Lucie. Very much a ‘girl power’ meeting if ever there was - which in a family full of boys was often needed just to keep the peace. Everything about the evening was lovely… except perhaps your body. God knows why, because you rarely got ill - having not had a day off work in two years. As much as you’d been trying to push away the slow creeping feeling for a couple of hours - it was now getting impossible to ignore. The slightly unsettled feeling in your stomach had you fidgeting in the wooden chair constantly, trying to ease it by shifting positions... to no avail.

“Y/n… Y/n?” Looking up to see three pairs of beady eyes trained on you, you faked a smile, looking over to Nikki who had been calling your name. “Tess was asking how long the flight back was?” “Oh sorry, was miles away!” You tried to cover, shifting once again, this time pressing a hand to your lower abdomen in the hope that’d distract you as you turned slightly to make eye contact with Tessa. “And I think 11 hours ish.” The girls all pulled a grimacing face in sympathy, to which you chuckled at. “No no honestly cos Tom spoiled me completely so we were in the fancy seats, I honestly was spark out of it the whole time!”

It was enough of a response for the girls to all nod, carrying on the conversation as you, now not the main focus, rubbed your pulsing temple with your other hand - in the hope to relieve some of the building pressure. Clearly, though, you weren’t a subtle as you thought - since Lucie got your attention by bumping your shoulder and leaning in closely. “Come to the loo with me?” It sounded like a question, though it very much wasn’t - the stern look in her eye enough to scare you into agreeing. With a word to Nikki and Tess, you both stood up and made your way to the inside, not stopping until you were locked into the thankfully spacious downstairs loo - the brunette eyeing you intently. “You look like shit.” “Thanks Luc, that’s exactly what I needed to hear right now.” You sighed, sitting on top of the closed lidded loo heavily. “What’s up?” Her tone was harsh and to the point, but secretly there was a look of worry in her eyes. She was one of your best mates but sometimes could also scare you shitless. “I think I’m just tired, it’s my stomach and my head, I’ll be fine.”

Lucie didn't really seem to believe you, but respected your stubbornness and after providing you with two paracetamol capsules from her bag, she let you off - both going back into the garden, where, by now Sam was plating up the slightly charred burgers.

Naturally, you’d sat next to Tom, who had pulled your chairs right next to each other - so that his leg was pressed up against yours, his arm pulled around your shoulder. That was just Tom, away from the prying eyes of the public and media, he really was an affectionate person. He just liked to feel you there. God knows how long you all sat in those same positions, but it was long enough for the sun to set. In fact, you most definitely weren’t the person to ask, because at some point, unbeknownst to you, you’d zoned out. Nobody had noticed, under the cover of the low sunset light, until Tom felt your head briefly fall against his shoulder before it shot up once again - your eyes blinking heavily.

He frowned at the sight, seeing you huddle your arms across your body, which was bizarre due to the unbelievable hot weather in London. Yes, it might have shifted into nighttime, but it was still at least 24 degrees. So as his Dad had the entire table captivated recounting some long and complex tale of his touring days, Tom took the opportunity to squeeze your shoulder - grabbing your attention.

“You alright love?” In response you just hummed, eyes shifting up to him after a little delay - similar to how your reflexes became stunted with alcohol, though Tom suddenly realised you’d barely had more than half the glass of beer he’d poured you when you’d both arrived. “ I’said are you okay?” “Yeh… yeh I’m fine.” You forced a small tight lipped smile, whilst Tom took his arm that was round his shoulder to rest on the crown of your head before slowly stroking down your hair. “Sure? You seem a little out of it?” He pushed, still in a whisper so as not to draw attention to the two of you. “Maybe just tired.” Flat out lying, you shifted back into the backrest of the chair a little more making his hand accidentally land on your forehead rather than your hairline. He didn't move it though, instead sitting and swivelling in his chair, pressing the other side of his hand to the skin as well. “You’re burning up Y/n/n” he spoke a little louder - eyes full of concern as he looked you up and down. “No I’m a bit cold if anythin-“

That was when Nikki, from across the other side of the table got involved. She’d obviously been silently observing the two of you, now feeling the need to send you both home. “Oh, we forgot dessert! Tom, Y/n would you mind helping me bring it out?” Thank god for Nikki, for finding a cover story and stopping everyone's eyes on you. Because for someone dating, three years deep, an A-lister - you hated any sort of attention, even from those closest to you. Especially sympathy, you had absolutely no time at all for that.

Leading you into the kitchen with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, Tom waited till the door was shut before turning to you.- claiming you were boiling and looked not so great. “I’m just a bit cold if I can borrow one of sam’s jumpers then-“ “Love, please go home.” Nikki interrupted as she wormed past Tom to put her own hand on your forehead too. “You’ve got the chills and you’ve not been normal all day. Am I right or am I right?” She was the worst to argue against. That was completely due to the fact she was always right. With a defeated nod from you, she clicked her tongue, pushing you to sit down on one of the barstools. “Tom go get a jumper from Sam’s room and order a taxi, I would drive but we’ve all been drinking.” “I can just go back by myself T, you don’t get to see your grandparents a lot and -“ “I love you but please please shut up.” Having rounded the back of your chair he pressed his lips to your temples as confirmation before scurrying off to the back of the house.

“You know he doesn’t mind at all? My son never was at my beckon call like he is with you.” There was a little smile teasing the corner of her lips as Nikki placed a glass of water in front of you, as though instructing you to take small sips. “I just feel bad, he’s always telling me how he regrets not spending more time with all of you and… well I’ve had him to myself for the fortnight in South Africa.” “Your just as much a part of the family as me or his grandparents are okay? Now when you get home..”

Nikki switched the tone to then list off all manners of ways that you needed to look after yourself once back, which she then repeated as soon as Tom returned with a black hoodie that you gratefully pulled over your head.

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By the time you got home, you were feeling so incredibly shit you weren’t even considering keeping up your brave face. Tom had wordlessly led you up the path to your shared home, unlocking the door and telling you to go straight to bed.

Perhaps he was so concerned because in the whole three years together he’d never ever seen you ill. Yes, the odd headache or whatever, as well as the occasional morning after the night before when you’d opted for a ‘tactical chunder’ to try and protect your modesty. But other than that, you were always the one being sympathetic to him. When he was tired, both emotionally and mentally from work; when he hurt his knee and was on forced bed rest for a couple of days ( which turns out to be the hardest time for you too, dealing with the whiny and fidgety boy man).

He came up a couple of minutes later, by which point you’d already pulled joggers on and wrapped yourself as tightly in the duvet as physically possible. If felt so bloody cold your teeth were actually chattering as you curled up into the smallest ball possible. In his hands was a small tray, carrying a steaming mug; a collection of all the different pill packets you kept in the medicine cabinet (as Tom himself had no idea which one was right so decided to use them all); a hot water bottle and what looked like a damp towel, all scrunched up.

No matter how shitty you felt you had a smile at how sweet and doting Tom was being... and as much as you hated the sympathy - if it was always given by a ripped and beautiful brunette with the sharpest jawline you’d ever seen… well just maybe you could get used to it. After snatching the hotwater bottle up immediately, then letting Tom fuss over you in every which way he wanted you gave in, losing the ability to entertain his puppy energy.

“Can we just go to sleep please?” You whined, which Tom nodded to - quickly getting changed and ready before joining you in bed.

As soon as he felt the way the bed was practically vibrating with the chills you were suffering from, he pulled you up into his chest. Now you had both your own personal heater and a hot water bottle to try and warm you up. “You wake me up if you need anything kay?”

Pressing a kiss into the crown of your head, which was nestled between his shoulder and neck. “Promise me ‘kay?” Him needing the reinforcement caused you to arch back up, looking deep into his brown eyes with the warm glow of his bedside table lamp. “You’re too good to me Tommy.” He tutted at that, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

“Oh no” He whispered exclaimed, making you immediately ask him what in response. “I think this fever is making you go all delusional love.” You quirked your head, causing him to continue with a cheeky grin. “Well for one, nothing would be too good for you darling and two…. When the hell have you ever called me ‘Tommy’” With him chuckling at his own joke, you rolled your eyes at his cheekiness, firmly planting your head back on his shoulder as if to shut him up. “Alright, I’ll let you off just this once cos your all feverish… get some sleep love.” “Thankyou Tommy.” “Shh love.”

And that’s how you fell asleep, finally finding a bit of warmth in Tom’s arms.

Safe to say he very much didn’t sleep so well. Yes, you felt cold - but Tom was bloody boiling. Still he didn't move because if you were comfortable, his discomfort didn’t matter. It was also a physical impossibility for him to relax until he felt (yes, technically not the most scientific way) your fever coming down. Every five minutes or so he’d gently press the back of his hand to your forehead. This boy was so whipped for you... but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

~~~feedback is really really appreciated~~~~

taglist for tom: @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @Elishi03 @arctic-monkcys @Ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol @marvelsbitch8

#tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom x reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagines #tomholland #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland angst

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alexiethymia · 4 years ago

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Jeanne Theories (but more like questions)

A dump for all my questions and theories about Jeanne. In the manga, the third chapter is named after her (Chapter 1 is Vanitas, while Chapter 2 is Noe). Arguably, you could say she’s the third most important character. Among all of the main characters, her past seems to be the one we know least about. This actually ties to my questions relating to vampires and their ages.

I am a bit confused about how aging works with vampires and how that reflects physically. We have Noe and Dominique who are chronologically the same age as Vanitas. Assuming nothing goes wrong, human Vanitas would die of old age (except we know that isn’t the case), while Noe and Dominique would look physically the same how many years later. Jeanne’s age wasn’t intentionally revealed because I think it ties in with the plot, but we know she’s centuries older than the main cast. She’s been with Ruthven since before the betrayal, and grew up with Chloe. This is where it gets confusing for me. Chloe became a vampire at four, but physically stopped aging at eleven years old. Jean Jaques was also a hidden vampire changed by Babel but he ended up growing and looking older than Chloe (at least physically). Same with Jeanne. She and Chloe met when Jeanne was younger than her, but Jeanne grew up to look like a young woman. I’m curious as to the difference as to why it was only Chloe who stopped growing physically at around eleven years old, although she’s older than Ruthven.

Jeanne’s link to Luna of the Blue Moon

I don’t think the line above is a throw-away line. Jeanne was of Ruthven’s time, and we find out that Luna had also seen her, specifically during the time of the Great War. She left that big of an impact on Luna that they would retell the story to Vanitas (and I presume Mikhail too), which had that much of impact on him as well.

They removed this context from the anime which makes it as if Vanitas heard of Jeanne through stories, except we know from the manga that it was more personal since he heard it from Luna.

Why exactly did Luna have admiration towards Jeanne? Was it because she was slaughtering Vampires of the Red Moon? But contrary to the rumors, recent chapters would show us that Luna didn’t seem to be a vengeful entity or hold ill-will toward Vampires of the Red Moon.

Luna was also probably the reason why Vanitas felt an initial connection with Jeanne. Like with his hourglass earring, the name, the book, the gloves, etc., despite their complicated past, Vanitas seems to be (consciously or unconsciously) maintaining a link with Luna.

Jeanne’s Slumber (possible connections with Sleeping Beauty)

Why was it necessary for Jeanne to sleep all this time? And why did she have to wake up now, at this exact moment in time? What exact thing does Ruthven need to use her for, and for what purpose? Because let’s admit it, Lord Ruthven is shady af.

It’s also ironic how Jeanne reads Sleeping Beauty and places Vanitas in the princess’ position, when she has more in common with the fairytale. Having to sleep for a hundred years, her mark is that of a rose with thorns evoking the imagery of ‘Briar Rose’ and the spindle, while her epithet ‘Hellfire Witch’ evokes imagery of the evil fairy who could turn into a dragon and breathe fire (admittedly I may be focusing on the Disney version too much).

We know she’s named after Jeanne d’Arc, a martyr who was burnt at the stake (please, please, let this not be foreshadowing of how she dies) hence the connection to her epithet ‘Hellfire Witch’, but even disregarding how vampires (and perhaps humans as well?) have true names, Vanitas says she was ‘bestowed’ a saintly name. We know she was adopted, and we don’t know the circumstances of her birth which are shrouded in mystery, but could Ruthven have been the one to grant the name ‘Jeanne’ to her?

If not for the fact that we already had Florifel and Eglantine in the first chapter, I would have thought Jeanne’s true name and malnomen if she gets one later would be connected to the fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty.

Jeanne’s Malady

The vampires in Vanitas no Carte are different from the stereotypical portrayals of vampires, except for one - Jeanne. Jeanne has that uncontrollable desire to drink blood, and yet as of now, doesn’t appear to be a curse bearer. Based on her patchy memories, we can infer it was Ruthven who made her like this, is the one to supply her with her sketchy medicine, all the while forcing her to swear not to talk about it.

Is she in the same predicament as Loki, Luca’s older brother, forced to have the symptoms of a curse bearer and yet being prevented from being cured, by Ruthven? For what greater purpose? Why is it necessary for Loki to be a curse bearer? And more intriguing than that, why is he consenting to it? It all relates to the Queen somehow, something which no one is privy to except the Oriflamme Family.

Sleeping Lions

Who could Marquis Machina be referring to? Everyone in the Oriflamme family, and by extension Jeanne, have connections with the imagery of lions and fire (they seem to have an elemental affinity like how Luca displayed, except that Ruthven’s is black fire, which makes me wonder what color Loki’s flames would be if ever). Jeanne can’t seem to manipulate the World Formula like Ruthven and Veronica though. The flames come out of her gauntlet, Carpe Diem.

In relation to that, I think Misha’s patron is Marquis Machina. In the same way, Marquis Machina built Carpe Diem for Jeanne, I think he built Misha’s hand and dog for him. I mean Marquis Machina doesn’t seem to be working with Ruthven and Charlatan. His pieces seem to be the kin of the Blue Moon (Vanitas and Misha), the dhams, and the De Sade family. It could also be that the De Sade have their own agenda and are just using Marquis Machina or it’s just a mutual beneficial arrangement. If so, an eventually power struggle is bound to break out, possibly between the De Sade and the Oriflamme families, and poor Jeanne will be caught in the middle. Where then does the Shapeless One play into this? Perhaps a third faction? A silent observer? A loyalist to the queen? There’s still too little information to theorize.

Who could the Sleeping Lion Marquis Machina wants to see wake up be?

Jeanne, Faustina, Luna, and Naenia

It could just be a stylistic thing, but the long flowing light colored hair seem to be common among all of them.

In relation to Pandora Hearts and its themes of will and what measure is a person, what if the Jeanne that we know now is just a consciousness inhabiting a body (kind of like Oz and Jack), specifically the queen’s body to be exact. It would certainly be foreshadowing to when she says ‘promise to kill me when I’m no longer myself anymore’.

Alternatively, the current Jeanne we know may just be a vessel or a golem to house the Queen whose body has deteriorated. It certainly would explain why she was treated as a doll even in her earliest memories. ‘Jeanne’ isn’t supposed to exist.

Although it’s a long shot, since Ruthven has connections with Charlatan, and by extension Dr. Moreau, could ‘No. 70′ have been Jeanne? Again like I said, it’s a long shot. I think it’s likelier that No. 70 is a character we haven’t been introduced to yet.

Jeanne’s Parents

This is a Mochizuki work. Of course, there’s got to be something to it. Why exactly did they side with the humans so suddenly in the war? What horrible thing did the vampires do to have over a thousand of their kind turn against them? And yet the way it reads, rather than betray Ruthven, I think Jeanne’s parents along with all of the vampires who were slaughtered were sacrificial pawns. Maybe I’m just really biased against Ruthven, but I think he was the one to lead the rebellion of his students, and like Chloe, although he presents himself to be an ally of the current Vampire Monarchy, perhaps he’s just biding his time to get revenge for his students. In working with Charlatan, it’s vampires who he’s harming.

What greater purpose could he have in wanting to assassinate his own nephew or ally himself with a known vampire extermination unit of the Chasseurs (Gano and his ilk) or in killing so many vampires by having their true names corrupted?

Face to face with Noe, we see in their meeting that Noe says the exact same words Ruthven told Chloe when he was younger. Noe reminds Ruthven of his students, while Ruthven reminds Noe of his teacher. I’m not really sure where I’m going with this, but it seems like the Ruthven of now scorns his past self’s moderate and progressive ideals of vampires and humans living in harmony. He speaks of our side, your side, and Noe having to choose one or the other. And yet all of his collective actions at this point have served not to protect but rather harm vampire kind, which puts him in direct opposition to Vanitas who wants to save vampires.

In relation to Jeanne, there will be a boiling point. She’s loyal to Luca and she’s loyal to Ruthven. She’s incredibly fond of Dominique. As of now, she also loves Vanitas. And yet down the line, inevitably Luca and Ruthven will be on opposing sides, so I am curious to see how the betrayals and conflicting loyalties will play out.

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buckys-little-hoe · 4 years ago

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The Bet | Jake Peralta x Reader

Pairing: Jake Peralta x Reader

Summary: You and Jake make a bet. Who can last longer without Sex.

Warnings: Implied Smut, my non existent knowledge of police work, sexyness lmao, mentions of drugs and murder

A/N: There is not much to say. I just wanted to try writing about someone else. The next thing that i have planned is something for our fav fast guy Pietro (who owns my heart btw)

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It all started about a year ago. You were new to the station and immediately attracted everyone's attention. Not only were you beautiful, no, you were a real badass too. You solve one case after the other without any complications. And while you sometimes had to be physical, you looked hot too. Amy had asked several times if you could teach her how to look good while you had blood on your uniform, but you just shrugged your shoulders. In all honesty, you just did it without even thinking about it. Holt was incredibly proud to have hired someone so talented. You lived for your work, but your private life suffered as a result.

You spent your nights researching and in the morning you just came out of bed. And so after about a week you were at your desk. Rosa came in with her blank expression and sat across from you. You gave her a smile, which she didn't return, but she gave you coffee. You accepted it gratefully and immediately felt better. "Hey, Y/N! Could you bring me the new file? It's on Peralta's desk.” Terry asked you as you sat closer and you nodded. With your coffee cup in hand, you got up and went to his desk. What a mess. Sighing, you rummaged around with one hand. Was that a crushed granola bar? Disgusted, you took your hand out of the mess and took a sip. At about the same time, Jake strutted in and was immediately involved in a conversation with Charles. So he ran backwards towards his desk. You didn't even notice your surrounding anymore, you were too focused on finding the files without your hand touching anything rotten. And so Jake ran against you. Startled, you tightened your grip on the cup, which caused the lid to fly up from the pressure and some coffee spilled onto your blouse. You whimpered softly because the shit was really hot. "Fuck ..." Carefully you lifted the blouse a little so that it doesn't stick to your skin. Jake immediately walked away from you and spoke to you. "Shit, I'm so sorry! Are you okay, Y/L/N?” He asked with a guilty conscience and you turned around. With gritted teeth you nodded and walked slowly towards the washroom. "If you want, I'll help you take it off!" He called after you and you had to pull yourself together not to beat him up. This was his first attempt at flirting, and it wasn't his last. About a month later, you were sitting across from Rosa again, but your eyes were on Holt. He was talking to Jake again, but you couldn't see what kind of conversation. Was it praise? Or maybe scolding? You were bored with no case to resolve. Besides, you were kind on a sex withdrawal. After all, you were new to this neighborhood and didn't really know anyone. You hadn't even gotten to masturbation in the past few weeks. Annoyed, you let your head drop on your crossed arms. It could be that the withdrawal made you a little pissed. "What's going on?" Rosa asked and Amy perked up her ears. And since Charles didn't really have anything to do either and was a self-proclaimed consolation giver, he came straight to it. A kind of meeting came into being. "I'm just not in a good mood," you said and looked up. "Why?" Amy asked immediately. Even Gina was now at your table. "Is it because we don't have any cases right now?" Charles asked, but you denied it. A bit of free time was actually good, but you were in the wrong place to satisfy yourself. "Stress with the partner?", Amy guessed. "I don't have anyone.", You grumbled. "Aha!" Gina shouted. "You haven't had sex in a long time!" With red cheeks you buried your head in your arms again. Satisfied, she nodded as she hit the nail right on the head. Terry came along now. "I know some nice men," he said and you rolled your eyes. Great, now everyone knew. "I know some great girls too," Rosa suggested. “That's enough, guys. If I want then I'll surely find someone. ", You grumbled and looked up again. By now everyone had a sympathetic smile on their faces. You groaned annoyed. Gina pushed Charles aside and showed you a couple of Instagram accounts with some guys. Somehow you wanted meaningless sex, but not with someone strange. Jake stepped out of the office again and noticed everyone standing at your table. "What's going on here?" He asked aloud and walked to your desk. "We're looking for someone to lay Y/N.", Gina answered without looking up. Embarrassed you avoided his gaze. Did everyone finally know? "I'll volunteer.", He grinned and everyone started laughing, including you. "Why are you laughing?" Confused, he looked at his colleagues. Charles put a hand on his shoulder. "Not bad for Jake, but Y/N is way out of your league.", He replied with pity in his voice. Jake looked at him indignantly. “Thanks, Boyle! It doesn't matter now. Y/N, take your bag or whatever, we have a little drug case in a gelateria.”Peralta said, avoiding Boyle's hurt expression. A gelateria and he didn't take his best friend with him? Excitedly, you grabbed your service weapon and your jacket. “I’m ready!"

"I think the owner is the dealer," you said quietly to yourself. Jake nodded in agreement. "Now we just have to catch him red-handed," he added. He turned to you and put both of his hands on your shoulders. You looked at him with a raised brow. "Flirt with him," he ordered and shook you. "What! Why? ”You hissed softly and glanced over at the guy. "You distract him and I'll go back through the door," he explained and you sighed. "Okay." So you stepped inside slowly, purposefully towards the counter and looked at the many different types of ice cream. "Hi!", You smiled shyly, and he took the bite immediately. "Hello beautiful woman, what can I do for you?" He asked charmingly with his heavy Italian accent. Your heart went soft with all the ice cream. "What can you recommend?" "It depends on what you like," grinned the man. "I like it extraordinary, maybe something Mediterranean.", You said and suppressed your gag reflex. "I should have- Hey!", He interrupted himself and looked past you. Inwardly, you just gave yourself a facepalm. He couldn’t be serious. "What are you doing back there, huh?" Slowly you turned around and saw Peralta with a mustache stuck on. You sighed softly to yourself and just mimicked your fate. "Well, searching the drugs.", He replied as if it were the most normal thing in the world. You took your badge in your hand ready to turn around when the swanky Italian slapped it out of your hand, jumped over the counter and hit you on the floor. With a thud, you landed on the floor. Jake was about to walk towards you, but you waved in the direction of the door. He bit his lip and hesitantly ran after him. Slowly you got up and cracked your fingers. Why did he have to bite his lip so badly? Now you ran after them too, it didn't take long for the Italian to land in a dead end. Jake seemed to have everything under control, so you stood to one side to take a deep breath. But when he handcuffed him, you couldn't prevent your dirty thoughts. How would the handcuffs feel on your hands? You rubbed your thighs together to release some friction. You realized one thing. Jake was the one who had to fuck you. You just had to make him do it.

A few days later, you were leaning your arms on Gina's desk, your bum up. In the reflection you could see his eyes on it while he was talking to Amy. Even your blouse had one button open today. At least time was running and you were getting more and more impatient. Gina told you something about a dance group and normally you'd like to listen, but this time it was more difficult. When you turned around he was no longer there. Instead, Amy gave you a friendly wave. You returned her gestures with a smile. Suddenly you smelled his perfume in your nose. He was right next to you. Your breathing became a little more irregular, as did your heartbeats. Oh God. His sleeves were rolled up and he was smiling slyly. “We're going to Shaw’s after work today. Would you like to come with us?” He wanted to know and you didn't miss how his eyes briefly wandered to your breasts. “Oh yes, Y/N! You absolutely have to go.", Gina agreed, so you nodded."I'll be happy to come, Peralta. "

That evening, you sat in a corner with your drink in hand. If he stopped giving you any more signs, you would look for someone else, which you would find a shame. Time passed and slowly the troop broke up. Until there was only Jake left, who sat down next to you with a new drink. "Here." Smiling, he pushed the glass towards you. You took the straw slowly in your mouth and didn't break eye contact. If he didn't get that hint now, you'd probably freak out. Instead, the detective put his hand dangerously close to your clothed core. You gasped loudly. "Could it be that you want me to fuck you?" He asks quietly and your heart almost popped out of your chest. You opened your mouth, but not a word came out. So you just nodded. “Unfortunately that's not enough, babygirl. Use words. ”Jake said. Slowly he tilted your head to one side and kissed the back of your neck. "Please, fuck me," you breathed. He removed his head and grinned. "I will, but just because you asked so nicely." Shortly afterwards you landed in his apartment. And at three in the morning you woke up and left like nothing happened. And it went on and on. Some days he would hold you against the shelves in the evidence room. On others it was in his car. And you liked the dominance he exuded. You liked how he took what he wanted from you, while still not forgetting your satisfaction. But after the sex you were always the first to go.

After a year it was still just sex and nothing more. So you were all the more surprised when he suddenly showed up on a date. You apologized to the nice man and pulled Jake on his ear out. He followed you gasping. When you finally stood in the parking lot, you crossed your arms. “What's this crap, Peralta?” You wanted to know, annoyed. "I ... I just wanted to make sure the guy was decent," he lied, which you could clearly see. “Bullshit. You are jealous. ", You replied." No, I am not. " "Yes you are." "No." "Yes." "No." "Yes." “Okay! Our sex is fantastic okay? But what am I talking about here anyway? You wouldn't even go a day without it.” The cop defended himself. "Oh yes? I think you're confused, darling. You can't last a day without it.” You replied angrily. “Then let's bet. Whoever gives up first loses,” he suggested. “What do I get if I win?” You asked suspiciously. Betting with Jake always goes wrong and ends in chaos, you've been aware of that since Halloween. "I'll give you the murder case." "Okay, and you?" "I want one waking up." Confused you pulled your eyebrows together. "What do you mean?", You said. "I want you to wake up with me once. No escaping," he explained with ruddy cheeks. You examined him briefly and finally nodded. "Deal."

It started very easily. Here and there he brushed your hips, of course quite unobtrusively. Sometimes your file fell down, so you had to bend down very low. But he didn't jump on it. So you had to get more extreme. Bananas were eaten and he was flirting with Amy. And somehow your heart got heavier. So you had to act differently. Shortly before the end of the day you accidentally spilled your water on your white blouse. While your red lace bra became visible, you apologized with red cheeks and promised to come back. You didn't miss Jake's eyes, but you had other plans. From your closet you pulled a top with a deep neckline and tight jeans that made your bum stick out. You pulled the hair elastic out of your hair and freed your voluminous mane. You even forced yourself into high shoes and for once you leave your underwear off. "Show Time.", You mumbled and drove to the bar. And as soon as you stepped in, everyone's eyes were on you. Rosa whistled loudly and grinned honestly. Flattered you gave her a hug. "I thought I could dress up a bit." You explained your outfit to her. "Good girl," she winked. She’s the only one who knew about you and Jake since she caught you in the evidence room. With a swing of your hips that could only drive someone crazy, you strutted towards the bar. The bartender leaned down to you. "What will it be, my lady?" He grinned charmingly and you laughed out loud. still focused on getting what you wanted. “A shot would be a start,” you answered. He pushed one over to you pretty quickly. "It’s on the house.", He smiled. You nodded as a thank you and drank it. The warmth spread through your body and you let your shoulders circle. And so you flirted with the bartender for an estimated two minutes, when a well-known body was already pressing against yours. And with it his erection too. Your grin grew bigger. "What do you think you're doing?" He whispered in your ear. Goosebumps graced your body. He let his hand slide gently under your top. "You don't even wear a bra," Jake said, breathing irregularly. Inconspicuously, you rubbed your bum against his reaction. "That's enough," he whispered through clenched teeth. And so he pulled your wrist towards his apartment. And for the first time you didn't care what your colleagues thought about you.

Tired you opened your eyes and looked directly at the alarm clock next to you. Three o'clock at night. But this time you didn't get up. Instead, you turned around, put your arms around his body, and closed your eyes again. And Jake's smile grew bigger.

#jake peralta #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta x y/n #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #fluffy #jake peralta fluffy #jake peralta x you

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hogwartsfirebolt · 4 years ago

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Hello everyone! I’m back for my (omg time flies) third yearly drarry rec list, in which I share with you my 30 favorite drarry fics I read in the year, divided in three parts. What a year 2020 was. It was challenging, scary and confusing, and it was also an amazing reading year for me, I read so, so much more than I ever had before, and I’m really excited to share these masterpieces with you! The banner art is by @dragontamerdame who is one of my favorite artists and was kind enough to let me use this beautiful piece, which you can (and totally should) reblog right here. Now, with nothing else to add and in no particular order, here’s my

FAVORITE FICS I READ IN 2020 PART ONE

1. Who we are in the shadows - @quicksilvermaid - 100k - E - What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost. But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself. What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong?

THIS FIC!!! It was the first one I read in 2020, and it immediately became my favorite fic of the entire year, and one of my favorites of all time. I have since read it two more times, the entire 100k of it. There are absolutely no words to describe how amazing it is, how much it floored me to read their characterizations, their jobs and the roads life took them on to end up where they end up, the connection between them in a time when they don’t even know how to relate to anyone, their sorrow and struggles which, despite being so rooted in the magical world, are painfully human, just... wow. It’s a masterpiece. It changed the way I view their characters, forever, and I suspect I will read it many, many more times in the years to come. It’s that kind of story. If for whatever reason you haven’t read it, this is your sign to take that chance and embark on this amazing journey.

2. Every Kingdom - @thistle-verse - 7k - E - Every kingdom needs a prince. Every prince needs a good and useful knight. Draco and Harry play their parts and renegotiate some borders while they’re at it.

So, so lovely. Even though I don’t read them very often, alternate universes fascinate me so much, and I am in awe of the author for being able to pack so, so much story, so neatly into 7k words. This features a princely, lonesome Draco, a charming, golden Harry, and a blossoming love that could change everything. It’s beautiful, and I recommend it deeply.

3. The Bucket List - GallaPlacidia - 32k - Draco will die in six months if he can't get Harry Potter to fall in love with him. Since that's not going to happen, he might as well spend his last days working through his Bucket List. Tap-dancing lessons? Rock climbing? Poetry-writing? Threesomes? Cocaine? Getting to know his adorable cousin, Teddy Lupin? Draco will try them all! Feat. Cheerily pessimistic Draco, devoted bitch queen Pansy Parkinson, and a Harry who can't help but notice that something seems DIFFERENT about Draco, these days.

I’m positive that many, many of us got acquainted with GallaPlacidia’s writing this year, and I, too, fell in love with it. This story aches in the most beautiful of ways, the humor happens to be somehow light in such a difficult circumstance that it ends up hurting when you laugh, it hurts when everything is right because it’s also wrong, it aches when it’s supposed to be a happy moment and feels tender and sweet when it’s not. I can’t even imagine the challenge of writing this kind of story, and they pulled it off beautifully. It’s a lovely story, one you will take with you long after you finish it, and, personally, I think it’s a great introduction to the author’s writing.

4. halcyon days - @the-starryknight - 1.3k - T - Sleepy mornings caught while the sun rises are reserved for silly word games and soft touches and feelings.

Oh my god, the amount of tenderness in such a low wordcount made me weak in the knees. I almost couldn’t take it. Being able to convey such a deep emotional connection in a short story seems like such a daunting task, and the author makes it seem almost effortless. I guarantee that this will make you bring your hands to your chest and sigh with how lovely it is. Reading it will be the best ten minutes of your day.

5. Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon - @drarrytrash - 37k - E - According to Harry’s personal narrative regarding the incident, he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy for purely self-destructive reasons, or out of convenience, or by some unlucky accident. Looking at him, sprawled in the moonlight, Harry is devastated to recall that he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy because he’s hot. Draco is a secret werewolf and Harry is doing his best and they've got criminals to catch, darn it.

Reading this, I found myself laughing out loud, nodding profusely with how freaking spot on the characterizations are. The dialogue is amazing, so hilarious and real and Harry’s inner monologue is so, so him. I love everything about this story. I have a soft spot for werewolf fic, and this one hit everything I love about it, the case is interesting and engaging, the incidental characters, the OCs, Ron and Hermione, everyone and everything is absolutely perfect and I had an absolute blast reading it. You HAVE to read this and see for yourself what I’m talking about.

6. Sex Ed for Aurors - curiouslyfic - 8k - M - Some things, you need to learn on the job.

Oh my god this is so freaking good. The premise is, basically, that Harry is accidentally doused with a lust potion while in the vicinity of Draco, and suddenly wants him more than anything. I loved this take on that trope, we’re in Harry’s head, and it’s absolutely hilarious and endearing to experience the near childish glee he feels whenever Draco looks his way, when he smiles, when he feels he’s made him happy, meanwhile Draco and Ron are horrified and doing whatever they can to correct it. This is so funny and such a good time, I can’t recommend it enough! While you’re at it, you should definitely read megyal’s remix of this, which is also a blast.

7. plasticine porters with looking-glass ties - @bonesliketambourines - 15K - E - Lately, Harry thinks things don’t seem the same between him and Draco. His head is in the clouds when he thinks about what their relationship is now, and where it might be headed—he’s happy with their friendship, but he wants something else. A potions accident over a lunchtime visit to Draco’s lab (what does he get up to in there, anyway?) changes things, though, and accelerates their relationship faster than either of them had ever expected. How are they going to get through this new development together?

Atmospheric, beautifully-written and delicious. Their relationship is tender, just on the edge of something more, when they’re forced to quarantine together and face the effects of a potion that makes them see and feel things differently, which makes for the most intense, visual, gorgeous sex scene I think I’ve ever read. It’s just absolutely phenomenal.

8. i wake up falling - warmfoothills - 9k - M - Draco’s always leaving, one way or another. Harry’s usually 240 thousand miles too late.

In trying to come up with a way to summarize this story, I’m feeling the overwhelming urge to cry again, just like I did when I read it. It’s just so, so, beautiful, every single word of it aches in the best way, the longing feels deeply authentic and just, the setting and the jobs and everything is so unique and gorgeous. Every single work by this author is beyond beautiful, but especially this one is incredibly close to my heart and I think everyone should read it. It’s a gem.

9. In Every Universe - @skeptiquewrites - 27k - M - They sent Professor Harry Potter to search for Unspeakable Draco Malfoy. Draco has stolen a Firebird, an experimental magical device from the Department of Mysteries that lets you enter parallel universes as yourself. As Harry traverses from universe to universe, he begins to think Draco might be the one searching for him. A story about whether knowing what's possible makes it possible.

Stories where the characters find themselves somehow hopping from one reality to another are always so, so fascinating to me, and this one is incredibly creative and well-written, so entertaining all around. The mystery of it kept me on my toes, and every single reality was a joy to read. 10/10

10. Life goes not backward - @shealwaysreads - 8k - T - Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots. Leaving one life behind isn’t always a sacrifice, and sometimes the greatest good comes from embracing the people you love.

My god, there are not enough words to describe how much this story means to me, how beautiful it is, how every single time I’ve read it, I’ve cried. Bella has undoubtedly become one of my absolute favorite writers in fandom. She has such a way with words, there is not one of her stories that hasn’t touched me, that doesn’t feel like an actual, full-length novel no matter the word count. I read so many of them this year, so many of the masterpieces she’s gifted us, but this one especially is so tender, so dear, that I ended up choosing it as my favorite of hers this year. Harry’s charactertization, the unbelievable warmth of their relationship, absolutely everything about this is gorgeous. Go read it, right now, and then binge all her other works!! You won’t regret it.

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Each of these fics is incredibly close to my heart and I enjoyed them immensely. In the midst of everything changing, I really found comfort and solace in the amazing works of the people of this fandom. I hope they give you the same amount of warmth and comfort they gave me, and I’m ALWAYS here to gush about any of them ❤️ Happy New Year!

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #drarry fic rec #2020rec #ficrec #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry rec list

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