#my brain process things really fast

[altarfates]

sometimes bc the adhd brain goes : brain to hand does not always compute, i end up with the goofiest ass spelling mistakes or just whole ass words replaced with something different and im like WOAH what was that about ???

[greywooden]

my review of maxton hall

[a-walking-fandom-reference]

first day with my adhd meds back and yikes it’s a hyperverbal day i cant stop talking

[pagesofkenna]

need to consume more adult content just so i can learn the names of the emotions i'm struggling to process

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Since reading Rob Roy, I’ve become really really fast at reading books in a standard English dialect

[amazinglyashy]

Hi hi I just found your blog like an hour ago and I’ve been scrolling and am obsessed with the way you write for the l&ds!! ❤️❤️ if you don’t mind I love a little angst and was wondering if you could write the boys reacting to MC showing up at their doorstep heavily injured from like a fight with a wanderer.

Oh my gosh thank you!!! And I don't mind at all, my friends make fun of me for how much I enjoy hurt/comfort and angst :'D Thank you for the request!

LaDS men react to you appearing on their doorstep, injured and bleeding

Xavier -

If you end up at his door, it's more than likely because your unconscious decided to hit the button for his floor rather than your own. You just wanted to get home, not bother anyone, but he's stood right there. Having just come home from grabbing a late night snack from a nearby convenience store, you stumbled out of the elevator right as he's unlocking his front door.

He drops his keys and his bag.

It's a good thing too, because your legs gave out right then, so it's much better for him to catch you if his arms are free.

He's calling your name, and while you're still conscious, you're not really processing anything anymore. You're in too much shock, and you've lost too much blood by now.

He'll get the door unlocked and rush you inside his apartment, setting you down on his couch as he runs for a first aid kit, calling the association for emergency services while he does so.

"You're going to be okay. I promise. Just continue to breathe, alright?"

Xavier doesn't know if he's saying that to comfort you or himself, but he also isn't stopping to think about it, as he rapidly administers first aid to your wounds to at least slow the bleeding until help can arrive.

It's three in the morning but he's wide awake sitting next to your bed at the hospital, something unnatural for someone so sleep deprived usually.

He can't bring himself to shut his eyes though.

It's not work the risk.

Not until you wake up first.

Zayne -

It's like his brain splits into two the moment that he sees you standing there.

One side is his medical knowledge rushing forward as he moves to catch you as your feet stumble beneath you, trying to impossibly assess the extent of the damage before even getting to see it all. It's the half that's taking you to his kitchen table, because it's the easiest workspace for him right now. The one that's pulling out his doctor's bag from the closet in the hall, and the first aid kit from the cupboard in the kitchen as he cuts your shirt open.

The other side?

Oh honey, his heart is breaking.

If you think there's a day at work where he doesn't pray to any existent or nonexistent god that he doesn't see you today, spread out on a gurney or operating table without warning due to your unconscious state, then you'd be painfully wrong.

It's amazing how well he works while panicking on the inside, his skilled hands patching your wounds after meticulous sterilization, any sutures needed placed perfectly even through your pained groans tugging at his heart.

He knows he needs to get you to the hospital, even though he's taken good care of you in his own home. But he needs to sink to the floor for a minute, his back dragging against the wall as he heaves a deep sigh. It's a heavy toll feeling the stick of the dried blood on his hands- your blood on his hands.

With all his knowledge, he knows you'll be okay. He knows he himself will be okay. But right now-

He's not.

Sylus -

The N109 zone is beyond dangerous, mostly due to the criminals and leeches lurking in the dark shadows, but there's also no shortage of Wanderers, including ones that have been genetically altered to be even worse than they normally were.

So when Sylus sees you stumbling at his doorstep, bloodied hand reaching for the knob as he glances at the camera feed, he's not sure he could say he's ever moved so fast in his life otherwise. "Sweetie-" He breathes, as he catches you, scooping you up and rushing you inside as quickly as he possibly can without aggravating your already extensive injuries.

Luke is already running for first aid, and Kieran is already contacting the doctor. Mephisto is shrieking in the hall as he follows Sylus to his bedroom, protesting the fact that Sylus had needed him for surveillance of a target today instead of watching you.

Sylus knows.

He knows this is his fault.

If he had had someone keeping an eye on you, this wouldn't have happened.

His eyes are glued to your barely conscious form in his arms, the guilt in the recesses of his heart digging deeper with every slather of red that painted your skin.

Sorry to say, you're going to have your work cut out for you when you wake up. It's going to take a lot of heavy lifting on your part to convince him that he's not at fault for what happened to you.

And you will be waking up.

Sylus will make sure of that.

Rafayel -

Don't make his nightmares a reality.

Not again.

He's catching you before you can even begin to sway, and he'll be lucky if he remembers to shut the door behind him, his body melding against yours as he picks you up and runs down to his car.

"No, no no no. You stay awake, cutie."

He's definitely breaking at least a dozen laws just trying to get you to Akso hospital as quickly as he can. His mind is racing as fast as his car is moving down the streets, wondering what could have happened to you, what he should be doing right now, if he should have administered first aid to you before taking off-

But he's there so fast, it would have been nearly identical on the clock regardless of him still choosing to rush you to the hospital, or run to get and administer first aid for you from within his home.

He's there until you wake up- wide awake no matter how long it takes. It could be minutes, hours, days- he can't sleep. The image of you dying before him- the image of you standing on his doorstep as well- etched on the back of his eyelids every time he tried to close his eyes.

He talks to you even when you're not awake, stroking your hand, your cheek, the side of your neck- trying to make sure you're as comfortable as he can make you.

When you wake up again, he has to hold himself back with everything in him from squeezing you too tightly. He doesn't want to burst your stitches or harm you, but his body and arms are all-encompassing on you as he hugs you firmly, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

He really doesn't need you to see him cry.

[aleksatia]

It’s morning. He’s asleep. You wake up in a mischievous mood and decide to surprise him with BJ. Thirty seconds after his orgasm, he…🔥😏

☀️ Xavier

At first, he doesn’t even move. His fingers twitch, his breathing ragged, but his eyes remain closed, his expression frustratingly neutral. Then, suddenly, his hand shoots out, gripping your wrist before you can move away.

His blue eyes open, sharp, assessing, and for a moment, he just watches you, his gaze unreadable. Then, slowly—too slowly—his grip loosens, sliding from your wrist to your jaw.

"That," he murmurs, his voice dangerously low, "was reckless."

His thumb brushes over your lips, studying them like he’s memorizing the way they feel. Then, his gaze flickers up, and something shifts—something dangerous, something dark.

"And now I have no choice," he sighs, rolling onto his side, pinning you beneath him, "but to teach you what happens when you wake me up like that."

☃️ Zayne

His breathing is slow, steady—controlled. For a moment, you think he’s not going to react at all. Then, his fingers twitch against the pillow, his head tilting slightly as he finally exhales.

"You," he mutters, voice still hoarse from sleep, "are going to be the death of me."

His eyes flutter open, piercing and unreadable, but the slight twitch of his lips betrays him—he’s trying not to smirk. He runs a hand through his hair, like he’s analyzing what just happened. Then, finally, he sits up, cracking his neck with a slow roll of his shoulders.

"Alright," he murmurs, reaching for you with cold, steady fingers. "If that’s how you want to start the day…"

His lips brush your temple, deceptively soft. "Then let’s see how long you last when I return the favor."

🧜‍♂️ Rafayel

For a solid five seconds, he just lies there, blinking at the ceiling. Then, his entire body relaxes, and he lets out a deep, satisfied groan, stretching like a cat basking in the sun.

"Oh, my sweet little disaster," he sighs dramatically, turning to pull you against him, his grip lazy but firm. "Are you trying to spoil me first thing in the morning?"

His fingers skim down your spine, his touch light, teasing, and when you try to move, he doesn’t let you go.

"Mmm, no, no, no," he murmurs, voice still thick with sleep as he buries his face in your neck. "It’s your fault I’m in such a good mood now, so you’re staying right here."

His lips brush against your skin, featherlight and playful.

"Besides," he muses, fingers idly tracing your hip, "it’s my turn next, isn’t it?"

🦅 Sylus

His chest rises and falls, his breathing still uneven, but the moment reality catches up, his crimson eyes snap open, locking onto you with something between amusement and sheer hunger.

"Oh, kitten," he exhales, voice still thick and lazy from sleep, but carrying that edge of control you know all too well. He reaches for you—slow, deliberate, like a predator closing in.

His fingers slide into your hair, tilting your chin up as he smirks, still catching his breath.

"You really are a menace first thing in the morning, aren’t you?" His thumb drags lazily across your lower lip, his gaze dark and heavy.

"You better hope you don’t have plans today, because I’m about to enjoy ruining you completely."

He flips you onto your back in one fluid motion, his smirk widening as he hovers over you.

"And I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon."

🍎 Caleb

He shudders, his grip on the sheets tightening, his muscles still tense from the high. For a moment, he just stares at the ceiling, blinking as if his brain hasn’t fully processed what just happened. Then, suddenly—his arm shoots out, yanking you into his chest so fast you let out a startled gasp.

His breathing is still rough, his forehead pressing against yours as he grits his teeth, eyes squeezing shut like he’s struggling to hold himself together.

"You can’t—" His voice is wrecked, desperate, almost pleading.

"You can’t just do that and expect me to—"

He exhales sharply, his grip on you almost possessive, his fingers digging into your waist. Then, his lips brush your ear, voice dangerously low.

"You have no idea what you just did to me. And now, you’d better be ready to deal with the consequences."

[xfgpng]

control …

— [ nsfw ] kissing, dry humping, first kiss + they’re both virgins

— wc :: 1.2k

caleb likes to think he’s in control of everything that happens around him. he’s always been pretty good at controlling his emotions and schooling his expressions and he tries not to overreact.


that’s the problem with her, she throws him off balance in the best and worst ways and it leaves him feeling so unsettled.

the thing about college, it’s supposed to be the best years of your life and he doesn’t know if he agrees or disagrees with that. if he really thinks about it, it’s bullshit but he knows why he feels that way.

he keeps himself composed most days, he has no reason to act out of character but this is something new to him.

caleb wasn’t naive enough to think this would never happen, he just always thought he’d be able to handle it well but he cannot. his hands feel clammy and his hot around his neck. is this even normal? he doesn’t fucking know.

he wants to lie and say he’s completely normal about her having other guy friends but he’s definitely not. his skin crawls whenever they touch her shoulder, grab at her wrists even if it’s completely platonic and innocent.


he especially hates when they lean in to close to talk to her when they’re at a party and the music is too loud. those are the nights caleb avoids alcohol like it personally offended him.

he cannot trust himself to be sober in these situations, he doesn’t want to imagine what he’d do with his evol even if the thought sends a thrill through him. he knows he has a problem, he’s just not going to deal with it.

not in a healthy way at least.

“caleb?”

he snaps out his thoughts, smiling down at where she’s laying on the floor in his dorm room. she’s supposed to be studying but she’s distracted and he shouldn’t enable her but he always does. she’s just too pretty, she has a face you cannot say no to and you’d be insane to disagree.


he’d like someone to disagree, that would be a fun day for him and a very unfortunate one for them.

“i’m listening” he lies. if he had been, he would’ve heard what she asked him and understand why she’s being all shy right now.

“wait.. what?” he sits up, looking at her properly. he definitely has a problem if he’s thinking about her so much and she’s right next to him.

“.. it’s stupid” she frowns

“it’s not” he reassures. he means it sincerely because he is willing to do whatever she wants. he hopes she doesn’t know that.

“i just .. i haven’t had my first kiss yet and i know some people think it’s a big deal and maybe it is but how will i know?” she looks up at him and she looks so upset by this so he tries not to panic.


was she seeing someone? did she like someone and that’s why she was thinking about kissing?

caleb could tell her it’s too early to worry about that and maybe she could just focus on college but that would be selfish of him. so selfish.

“i could teach you” he says and it’s out before his brain can even process any of that shit but it’s too late now because her eyes widen and she sits up so fast.

“what?” she asks because even he can’t believe what he just said.

“i just mean if you’re that curious” he smiles, playing it cool.

“you’d do that for me?” she stands now, moving to sit on his bed right in front of him and he will kill his roommate if the fucker comes back now.

“you know i would” he shrugs like it’s nothing even though his heart his beating so fast.

and that’s the thing about control, he always believed he was in control of everything in his life but the moment their lips touch, he feels his entire world shift and he doesn’t know if he’s breathing but she trusts him.

he has his hands on the side of her face before he can stop himself and she gasps softly into the kiss that he can’t help but lightly bite her bottom lip. she likes that, or so it seems because she doesn’t push him away.

her lips taste like the peach flavoured lipgloss she likes to wear and her skin is soft beneath his fingertips.

“is this okay?” he asks, running his thumb across her lower lip. she’s so beautiful, it hurts.

“yes…” she nods, “… can we do more?”

“more?” he tries not to show how excited that makes him.

“with tongue” she whispers

he doesn’t need to be told twice and her moan makes it hard to focus on anything other than her lips against his and how hard he suddenly is.

he slips his tongue into her mouth and she learns pretty quickly, he hasn’t even kissed anyone either but he’s seen enough videos and he’s always been a pretty fast learner himself and he would be damned if she had this experience with anyone that wasn’t him.

she moves closer, her arms around his neck and he can’t pull her onto his lap. if he’s being honest, he’s been hard since she said yes to the kiss but he would never want to overwhelm her. her first kiss is special because it’s them, he wouldn’t rush this.


that is something he can control.

“does that feel good?” he asks because her comfort is the most important thing to him.

“yes” she sounds less shy now, more like herself and she’s smiling so sweetly he can’t help but lean back in and this time she takes the lead and he likes how she lightly pulls at his hair. he didn’t know he’d be into that but he’s learning a lot about himself since being in college.

she climbs onto his lap on her own and if she feels how hard he is, she doesn’t comment on it which he appreciates. she’s always been considerate and just so perfect he thinks he might combust.

“put your hands .. on my waist” she tells him and he nods, as if he’s in some sort of trance now.

he’s not embarrassed about the grinding or the fact that he cums in his pants 10 minutes later. he’s still a fucking virgin and she doesn’t seem to care because she moans loud enough for him that he knows everyone down the hall heard her and only a small part of him hates that, he knows when he’s alone he’s going to be pissed that they heard how pretty she sounds but right now he wants to keep kissing her.

[enzosbabyangel]

ᥫ᭡ Day 2 . . . party sex with Theo

cw: 18+!, mdni, porn with very very minimal plot, public-ish sex, i honestly didn’t know what to do for this, mean!Theo, protected sex, degradation, suddenly obsessive/possessive Theo afterwards, Theo lowk getting an obsession on reader, light dark!Theo and content? If toxic and obsessive behaviour bothers you DON’T READ !! I don’t know how this of changed to a super mini story with the premise of party sex but uh yeah.

You scratched at the back of the man who had you held up and pinned to the dirty stall door of the club you were at.

How you got here was simple. You and your friends came to the club for valentines figuring none of you had dates. Spotted a cute guy who seemed to be here with his own friends. The man looked like he’d be such a softdom ‘n gentle fuck, but one of your friends didn’t agree, thought he’d be controlling and demanding. So what better thing then make a bet? you get a fuck and possibly money.

So you flirted the best way you could. Writing ‘Be my valentine’ on a condom and giving it to him with fuck me eyes. And now that you’re here it’s easy to say neither you nor your friend will be getting that cash.

You let out a choked moan as Theo’s hand made way up to your neck and roughly banged your head on the stall door. His thrusts fast and seemingly effortless as they managed to reach that special spot in you without fail each thrust.

“Is this what you do? give any half decent guy you see a condom and fuck me eyes then let them take you in the bathroom like some cock desperate slut?” He degraded. The occasional grunts from his own pleasure just making his words even hotter. It was confusing, he seemed so disgusted in you with one sentence but then the complete opposite the next. “But i doubt it, pussy to good ‘n tight for someone who whores around. Already addicted to your pretty ass pussy.”

He was being so mean and rough. Not even controlling, it was like you were a doll to him. He didn’t care about what you did, like it had no effect on him. Even when your legs around his waist kicked at his back from overstimulation or simply being too much. Or your nails scratching at the fabric of his sweater ‘n pulling some of the threads loose. Your hips banged into the door with each one of thrusts, hard enough to leave bruises.

Theo’s thumb made its way up to your mouth, pushing past the barrier of your lips. “Like this? Practically being used like a doll.”

You could only desperately nod. Your senses completely overwhelmed in such a delicious way.

Your simple and desperate obedience got Theo completely coming undone. Groans leaving his lips while his thrusts grew sloppy. He forced his thumb deeper into your mouth, pressing it against the back of your tongue as a rather sadistic grin formed on his unfairly handsome face.

“God.. you’re fucking mine now alright? Already so obsessed with you..” He’d say through pants before hiding his face into your neck. Sucking hickeys onto the soft skin where anyone would be able to see it before biting roughly into your neck to stifle his groans ‘n moans as he came, his hips stilling in you. Thank lord for a condom.

Your poor little fucked out brain didn’t really process his words, thinking they were said out of nothing but lust so you just babbled agreements. But after all was all said and done and he practically forced you to introduce him to your friends and immediately started acting like you two were officially together, not even allowing you to go home by yourself.

At first you found it hot, most likely due to the alcohol in both yours and his system. But when it continued even after that night it got worrisome, his behaviour getting more and more possessive, even more so after you confronted him about it. And got you hated how your panties got absolutely soaked at the clear red flags.

“No no. I don’t think you get it. I practically own you now, you agreed to that remember? Trust me, no guy would care about you like i do.”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . written by enzosbabyangel, 2025 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours. Doing so will result in me blocking you and reporting.

tags: @mattheoriddles-sluttt @weirdogirl888 @jennieonline @bella-713 @txzii @couch-potato69 @chalametlover444 @erika5373919882920

[playfully-sadistic]

Getting yourself off again, angel? Second time today, isn't it? Or already the third, fourth, fifth? You're such a greedy, insatiable thing. Now, now, don't stop on my account - no, keep going, you're doing great.

But your touches are a little too intense, don't you think? A little too... on the nose, too obviously intended to make you come. Good little pets don't finish fast - if at all - no, they edge and edge, over and over again, until they finally get permission to let themselves go and succumb to their primitive needs. So... Lighter. Slower. No rubbing, only caressing, no fingering, only teasing your hole with your fingertips.

But first things first, fingers off entirely. Apparently, you need someone to guide you through the entire process, don't you? You're just too impatient and worked up, full of hormones and heat, to be able to regulate yourself, poor baby. Don't worry, I'll do it for you, step by step, nice and slow. Nothing makes it easier for you than having someone to order you around and tell you exactly what you're allowed to do. Now, isn't it extra fun that, even though nothing stops you from going further before I allow you to, we both know that you won't? You'll be good and behave, just for me, less even, just for a few written words, the illusion of a dom hovering over your barely clothed body and whispering sweet commands against the shell of your ear.

Touch your chest first. Even if it does nothing for you, even if you barely have any sensation in it, I want your fingers circling your nipples, your fingernails gently scratching over them, pinching them between two of them, pulling, massaging. Put on a show, as if someone was watching you. If you have some clamps around, get them, and tease yourself with them - not quite putting them on, but rubbing over your areola, using it to pinch and pull as well. Feel that, treasure? That's what you get for being patient and taking your time. That nice pulling feeling in your stomach... Yeah, that's good, isn't it? Good job. Toy with your chest and nipples some more, make them swollen, sore, red, make sure they already ache before you finally put on those clamps. If you don't own any, you go ahead right now, and order some. The most humiliating, the prettiest ones you can find. And I want you reading through this post again when they arrive, so you can properly get off to it.

Now, I'm sure by now your legs have fallen open all by themselves, mh? Revealing a soaked, hot mess in between, throbbing and begging for attention. So tempting to put your hand right in the middle of it and grope yourself, but you'll be good for me and keep your hands to yourself, love. For now, all you're allowed to do is let your fingers brush over your stomach... Drawing little circles around your belly button, long swirls that slowly go further down, ah, there's that nice feeling of your guts tensing up, isn't it? God, you're so predictable, such a simple thing. Oh, it's fine, you're merely a body in need of being fucked right now, no wonder your brain turns into simple mode.

Gently tease yourself with your fingernails along your lower stomach, before you move onto your thighs - oh, my, you're really desperate, spread them out as far as possible, and let me guess, you only just noticed now how far you've opened up, haven't you? A proper slut for the taking, good job, my angel. Touch your thighs, not the inner parts yet, just explore yourself, palms tracing your muscle, reaching up to your hip, moving onto your stomach again, where that nice, tight feeling comes back. Slowly let your fingers glide to the inner part of your thighs, where your ticklish, and it usually only works to get touched there when it's someone else's fingers, but, oh, fuck, darling, today's different, isn't it? Touching yourself so intensely, yet thoughtfully, it's really showing its effect on you, mh? That's perfect, you're doing so well, yeah, touch and tease your thighs some more, move those fingers up until...

Now you're allowed to move them right in between your legs. That feels good, hm? Finally letting your fingertips feel your own heat, swollen and twitching, feeling your own wetness, only caused by a post. Doesn't that truly show how desperately you need guidance and being made to feel utterly submissive? Don't keep those moans in, show everyone that you're such a needy, horny doll, so desperate to touch themselves. Why the modesty? Let it out. Rub yourself - slowly, dear - and feel yourself up, and know that you've done anything to this point because you followed orders, because you obeyed, because you just couldn't do it yourself and needed someone else so fucking badly, you needed someone to tell you what to do, does it feel like I'm there with you, do you like it, mh? Does it turn you on to know that I took the time writing this, for you to follow every step and work yourself up?

If you own a vibrator, you'll use it now. If it's the kind that you shove inside your needy hole, then do it, don't be gentle, don't be slow, shove it inside of you on the highest settings, as deep as it can go, and use your hand to continue rubbing. If it's the kind that you put on yourself, lay it on you, don't press it against you - we wouldn't want you to get too excited now, would we? - and shove your fingers inside of your instead. Fuck yourself. Make it good. Make it hard to not fall off the edge. Make it as rough and fast and overstimulating as you possibly can. Make it feel humiliating how fucking close it gets you that you're doing this in the first place. Feel the weight and tension that your heat brings - lean into it. Open your mouth, let the moans and whines and all those pretty noises out, don't close it to swallow, let your drool run down your chin - pant. It's getting hard to not come, isn't it? Poor baby.

Do you want me to give you permission? You do. I know. It's okay, baby, relax, keep fucking yourself open like that. A little patience.

Getting harder, mh? Feeling it in your guts already? God, you're so...

Think you can manage a bit longer?

Soon, my angel. You sound so good when you're desperate.

Almost there.

Ready, love?

Come for me, right now.

[orphicmusings]

Omg could you please do some or all of the NSFW alphabet for adrian tepes, i would be extremely grateful 😭😭😭 (if you’ve never heard of it look it up on tumblr and you’ll find the template)

finally got my thoughts together for this

a = aftercare

alucard is incredibly gentle with you afterward, even if you both didn’t get too wild- he is just in a sweet, lovey mood. giving you little kisses everywhere and cleaning you up, then holding you while you fall asleep.

b = body part

alucard loves your hands. he loves holding them in his, intertwining his fingers with yours, trapping them above your head while he sinks into you. he especially loves kissing them, making you fluster at such an innocent gesture while you’re doing something so filthy.

c = cum

i don’t really think he’s one for a breeding kink?? i think he would be terrified at the prospect of having kids. he would be too afraid of crashing out like his father if something happened to you and giving them no choice but to end him and live with the guilt. i did not mean for a prompt about cum to be this depressing

d = dirty secret

we all know how he looks at trevor and sypha. he would only be into if you were into it. that said he would be so into it. watching him be so rough with trevor, so submissive with sypha, and a delicious mix with you. meshing together, exploring each other, cuddling in one big pile after.

e=experience

HE GOT NONE LOL…i do think he is a relatively quick learner though, he’s a very focused and determined person and will learn what makes you tick quick.

f = favorite position

def missionary, holding your hand and looking into your eyes while he fucks you hard and fast or deep and slow, it doesn’t matter so long as he sees your face.

g = goofy

i think i could get a little silly with it, but definitely doesn’t initiate the silly mood during sex. maybe if you’re both a little tipsy, you tripped, your shirt got stuck, etc; he would just look at you and burst into uncontrollable laughter that would give him the giggles all night.

h = hair

doesn’t manscape often given the time period but definitely does…out of sheer boredom at least

i = intimacy

he values it so much, he needs to see you and hear you and feel you. for him, sex isn’t quick fun, it’s connecting, it’s intimacy. it’s literally an act of pouring all his love into you, and he’ll make sure you know that.

j = jack off

he probably has but doesn’t strike me as the type to do it often, he’s very disciplined.

k = kink

PRAISE. he loves hearing you praise him, and he loves the flustered look on your face when he praises you. definitely has a love-biting thing, loves seeing the slight indent of his fangs in your skin. i also think he has a thing for size, being such a tall ethereal being and also having at least a quarter of a predator instinct. like he probably thinks of how small you are compared to him and will short circuit, his brain crowded with the urge to protect you and ravish you in equal measure.

l = location

i do not see this guy getting nasty anywhere but the bed or the couch. he’s definitely old fashioned like that. and he wants to know you’re comfy!

m = motivation

when you run your hands through his hair and tug ever so gently, it’s over. he’s putty in your hands. especially if you praise him in the process.

n = no

i think bondage for obvious reasons, he never wants to feel that feeling again nor does he want you to, so it’s just off the table. he likes biting and playing rough with you, but he will never hurt you. even the slightest frown will get him to snap out of it and check in with you. he could not bring himself to ever hurt you on purpose.

o = oral

oh this man is a giver….like….sinking his fangs softly into your inner thigh and licking up the blood before he goes in LIKE!!! and don’t get me started on when you’re on your period, he’s practically feral, holding your hips down and drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re shaking and can’t go any longer.

p = pace

he can definitely do all, but prefers it deep and slow, he wants to savor everything. he wants to commit your pleasured, flustered, blissed out face to his immortal memory. he wants to make sure he remembers the most divine thing he has ever seen, the most divine thing he’s ever done, if he’s feeling poetic.

q = quickie

he doesn’t like them. like i said, sex is deeply intimate and loving for him and he can’t just fuck one out quickly.

r = risk

i think if you expressed wanting to do something that he wasn’t necessarily opposed to, he’d have an open mind about it and at least try it once.

s = stamina

beast. actual beast. he can control himself, though, and knows you can’t go as many rounds as he could, and he would never push you to. but if you felt like being edged? ohohohoho

t = toys

i don’t think sex toys existed back then…i could be wrong. but even in modern aus i don’t see him using them.

u = unfair

he doesn’t tease you often, but when he’s in a cheeky mood, he’s in a cheeky mood. he definitely can be withholding when he wants to be, and he knows he can stick it out longer than you. will definitely tell you to “ask nicely” and won’t obey until he hears the prettiest pleases.

v = volume

i think he’s fairly low volume, but very breathy. also talkative if he’s in the mood for it. just narrating what he’s doing, how he’s feeling, how he’s making you feel and having you affirm it could bring him to the brink faster. definitely whimpers, though, just tries his hardest to contain it.

w = wild card

reads about sex. like, all the books he can find on it. and will definitely fuck you on the sofa in the library while he asks you to read a passage out loud, whispering how well you’re doing and how good you are for him, all while chuckling as your voice shakes.

x = x ray

well we’ve seen his chest. but his dick is definitely big. not monstrous. but long. definitely a long boy

y = yearning

i think he has a fairly normal sex drive. not too high, not too low. he’s goldilocks :)

z = zzz

doesnt fall asleep until you do. he just wants to make sure you’re okay, and he loves watching how peaceful you look, wrapped up safe in his arms.

[holeforzenin]

RIDING HIGURUMA’S NOSE!!

Tw - Pussy eating, squirting, overstimulation? Also the reader is sitting on his face cowgirl position. I'm so sorry for any errors.

"Fuck! N-not so hard!" you cried out as he continued to suck on your clit, big strong arms gripping onto your thighs to keep you placed on his face. It's been like what, an hour? You swore you've never seen a man that loves eating pussy as much as Hiromi does and he's so fucking skilled at doing it too, it makes you see stars.

You don't even get the point of begging him to stop anymore, all you could do is sit there, moaning nonstop with tears leaking down your eyes from overstimulation as he feasts on your cunt, his growls vibrating against your slit when you try to wriggle out of his sturdy grip only for him to squeeze his arms around your thighs harder, you can literally see the veins and muscles on his arms budging out cause of his tight grip. A mixture of your juices and his drool running down his cheeks and chin as he eats you out sloppily.

He slowly pulls away from your cunt and lands a hard slap on your right-ass cheek before squeezing the soft flesh. "Ride my face baby, come on you can do it, cum f'me one more time and then I'll stop yeah?". He says lazily, he loves to be in control and ravish your messy cunt the way he pleases but he also enjoys seeing you attempting to get yourself off on his face. It's amusing to him.

You were tired. You didn't really wanna do anything, but you never know how much longer he's gonna take before stopping if you let him have it his way, so you decided to slowly grind your cunt on his tongue, groaning as you felt the vibrations of his mumble "that's my good girl" against you.

You continued moving back and forth on his face, desperately trying to cum so you can get this over with, till you accidentally felt yourself bumping against his nose, your body jolted in pleasure as you felt it against you for a split second, your reaction didn’t go unnoticed by Hiromi. It was so weird, not in a million years would you have thought that you'd feel pleasure from someone's nose? But I guess there's a first time for everything.

He was probably thinking the exact same thing you were as you felt his arms loosen around your thighs, you didn't waste a second as you moved back to get closer to his nose area, seating yourself at the bridge of his nose before your eyes rolled back as you felt his tongue attacking your clit, it was so fucking good, you took it as a sign to keep going as you moved your cunt back and forth on his nose, the tip of it digging into you as it drags against your creamy folds while his tongue laps your clit.

You felt your hole fluttering around nothing as you keep up your pace, riding the bump of his nose, you moved your hand to the back of his head to grip onto his hair so you can keep his head still to your liking as you felt him groaning against you while your gripping onto the strands. Your sweet moans filled the moan as you continue grinding down on his big nose, you squeaked unexpectedly, feeling his arms tightening around your thighs again, he's impatient. Strong arms keeping you intact, making you arch your back when you felt him pressing his nose against your entrance, the bridge of it digging into your cunt hole as he brings one of his hand up to your clit, rubbing fast sloppy circles on it as he ruts his nose into you, moving his head in all sorts of ways so he can hear your stupid little blabbers as he feeds you more pleasure.

Skilled tongue sucking on your poor clit as he watches your head falls back, thighs clenching against his hold. "Ohmygod! ohmygod! Fuckkk, gonna cum! M'gonna cum please don't stop feels so good" you cried out, your brain in shambles as you felt this weird sensation erupting in your stomach, before you could even process it, what feels like a gallon of clear liquid gushes out of you like a water hose and lands all over his pretty face and sheets, even despite that he still kept going, slurping and licking up your juices from your messy cunny as he sucks on it as if he was eating an orange.

After he was satisfied, he manhandles your body and picks you up, placing you on his lap while he moves his upper body up in the process, your pussy juice dripping off his face onto the bed as he got up, panting and trying to catch his breath as he sticks his tongue out to lick any reminding of your juices off his face. He takes a second to observe your shaking body from his lap, he wraps his arms around your smaller flame while whispering into your ear.

"Crazy to think that the first time you'd ever squirt is because of my nose huh?" he chuckles. "Such a messy little girl aren't ya princess?". He plants kisses on your neck to calm you down. Based on how much you know about higuruma, it's definitely gonna become a regular thing when it comes to you sitting on his face and your not complaining one bit.

[zuhaism]

⊹ ｡˚ 𓂃 ♡ BITTERSWEET FEELINGS ?!

[ navigation ]

pairing : jock!reader x meangirl!jimin

synopsis : you swore on your homies life jimins car wasnt there when you reversed. now you have to face the consequences of being jimins slave for the whole summer

a/n : IM BACK GUYS I FINISHED HIGHSCHOOL WOWOWOWOWOWO. i have a sophia fic cooking up in the oven pls give me motivation to write

the sun rays burns down on the pavement. casting shimmering heat waves off the rows of parked cars infront of the supermarket. the air smells like asphalt and faintly of gasoline. tension in the air so thick it might as well be solid and yet. none of it compares to the suffocating weight in your chest as you stare, in horror, at the very expensive, very sleek, very ruined black car in front of you.

you really didn’t mean to do it.

you swear on your mom’s life you didn’t.

but the horrifying crunch of metal against metal still rings in your ears. vibrating through your bones like the aftershock of an earthquake. your hands are frozen on the wheel, white-knuckled, and your breath catches somewhere between your ribs as you take in the undeniable dent you just gifted this beautiful, angry looking machine.

“oh. oh no. oh my god. i did not just—” you breathe out. stomach twisting in sheer horror. this wasn’t supposed to happen. you were supposed to run a quick errand. buy groceries for your mom. go home and continue your harry potter marathon. not this.

“stupid,” you mutter, smacking your forehead with the heel of your palm. “stupid, stupid, stupid—”

before you can even process your next move, the driver’s door swings open with a force that makes you flinch.

yu. fucking. jimin.

the richest kid in school. the kind of rich that makes people whisper behind her back, half in awe, half in resentment.

her dad owns the most luxurious country club in town. which of course, makes her the best golfer in school. not because she loves it, but because she was practically raised on the green. probably holding a club before she could even walk. she walks through the halls like she owns them (and maybe she does).

her head high, expression unreadable, never wasting words on people she doesn’t deem worth her time. she only keeps a tight circle. four friends. untouchable. (though one of them is your partner in chemistry , minjeong whose company you enjoy alot and you dont understand how a soft girl like her is best friends with jimin).

she gets whatever she wants. people trip over themselves to be on her good side. and when they're not? well. she makes them regret it. and right now, judging by the absolute murder in her eyes, you are very much not on her good side.

your brain short-circuits, all logical thought thrown straight out the window. your vision tunnels, your stomach flips, and before you can even register what’s happening, your head tips forward, smacking against the steering wheel.

the horn blares, loud and jarring, slicing through the summer air like a knife.

you jolt upright immediately, blinking fast, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. the world is still spinning, and yet one thing remains painfully clear. you are so, so screwed.

jimin stands there, arms crossed, sunglasses perched on her head, dark hair gleaming in the sunlight like something out of a goddamn magazine. the breeze tousles a few loose strands around her face. but her eyes dark, and burning with barely restrained fury stay locked on the damage, as if she’s willing the dent to disappear through sheer force of her eyes. her top tightly hugs her frame that almost made you pass out again

she exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. the strands slip through her fingers effortlessly, like silk, and it almost distracts you from the murder written all over her expression. almost.

“you have got to be fucking kidding me,” she seethes. voice low. deadly.

her posture is stiff, shoulders squared, one perfectly manicured hand resting on her hip. the subtle shift of her weight onto one leg makes her stance look effortless, like she owns the entire parking lot and by extension, your life.

you, on the other hand, are still frozen in your car like a complete idiot.

“get. out.”

you scramble to obey. nearly getting tangled in your seatbelt in your rush. your sneakers scrape against the pavement as you finally step out. the heat hitting you full force, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of how dry your mouth is.

“okay, okay, before you, um, say anything…, i just wanna say that i deeply regret my actions and—”

“regret?” she scoffs. taking a slow, deliberate step forward. “you wrecked my car, hotshot. i don’t care about your regret. i care about my bumper.”

your nose scrunches. “hotshot?”

jimin tilts her head, mock innocence dripping with venom. “oh, is that not what they call you?”

your jaw clenches. face heating even more than it already was under the sun. “that’s uncalled for.”

“so was your car slamming into mine,” she deadpans.

“technically,” you start, trying desperately to ease the tension, “it’s my bumper that—”

“do not finish that sentence unless you want to die in this parking lot.”

you snap your mouth shut. “right. totally fair.”

jimin pinches the bridge of her nose. her patience clearly wearing thin. the sharp inhale she takes in through her nose is slow, measured, like she’s actively resisting the urge to strangle you.

“do you even have insurance?”

your stomach sinks. “…define insurance?”

the laugh that escapes her is dry, humorless, and a little terrifying. “oh, this is gonna be fun.”

you shift awkwardly on your feet. the asphalt radiating heat through the soles of your shoes. sweat drips down the back of your neck, and you resist the urge to wipe it away, because somehow, looking nervous in front of her feels even worse than actually being nervous.

“sooo… how much are we talkin’?” you try, forcing out a bright, if not completely panicked chuckle. “like, damage-wise? i-i can pay you back. eventually. probably.”

“no. no probably.”

her voice is steel, and when you look up, her arms are crossed again, her nails tapping against her elbow. she’s still looking at you like you just ran over her childhood pet, and it’s making your stomach churn.

“you will pay me back,” she continues, voice calm, controlled. and then, a smirk, slow and wicked, curls onto her lips. “or else.”

your pulse stutters. “or else… what?”

she leans in, just slightly, and suddenly, she’s everywhere. her scent, something expensive and infuriatingly pleasant, wrapping around you like a trap. your breath catches. it’s distracting, the way she moves, the effortless confidence. the quiet kind of power that makes your stomach twist.

“or else you’ll regret ever stepping behind a wheel, sweetheart.”

your mouth goes dry.

jimin is close, too close, and the sun catches on the sharp angles of her face, highlighting the slight arch of her brow, the press of her lips, the way her eyes are practically daring you to push your luck. your fingers twitch at your sides, and you swallow. you don’t know whether to be terrified or intrigued. maybe both.

“give me your number,” the warmth of her breath ghosts over your skin, and your brain short-circuits for a second. her perfume is something delicate yet undeniably expensive, the kind that lingers, the kind that’ll stick to your clothes if you stand here any longer.

you fumble with your phone, fingers clumsy, pulse hammering against your ribs. she watches, amused, and somehow, that makes it worse.

“i’ll text you all the details so get ready for one hell of a summer”

last night, at exactly midnight, an unknown number texted you. right of the bat you knew it was her. she texted you a demented and threatening text you’ve come to expect from her.

“tmrw 9am sharp at the country club. dress accordingly. don’t be late or i’ll make sure you regret ever stepping foot on a basketball court again.”

she knew exactly what she was doing, sending that text just late enough to ruin a good night’s sleep. you woke up dreading the day ahead, and now, you’re actually living it. the frustration settles in again like a second wave, thick and inescapable. you hate the stupid country club. hate the stupid sun burning the back of your neck. hate the stupid heavy golf bag on your shoulder. and jimin

…okay, maybe hate is a strong word.

but considering how smug she looks right now. immaculate as ever in a crisp white polo that fits her perfectly, tucked into an infuriatingly short skirt that only accentuates her toned legs. and goddamn those thighs– you think she deserves at least a little bit of it.

the way the country club aesthetic should be obnoxious but somehow works flawlessly on her only adds to your growing irritation. the neatly pressed uniform, the poised stance, the effortless air of privilege. even the faintest scent of something expensive. probably a perfume that costs more than your debt clings to her like an afterthought.

it's annoying.

she doesn’t even have to try.

jimin shifts her weight slightly, rolling her shoulders back as she adjusts her golf glove with slow, deliberate movements. she does everything with an infuriating sense of ease, like she knows she’s being watched and thrives on it. her fingers flex slightly before she pulls the glove snug, and when she finally turns to look at you, there’s a flicker of something in her gaze—amusement, condescension, curiosity. all neatly wrapped in a bow of insufferable confidence.

"this is actual, real-life torture," you grumble, adjusting the strap of the golf bag for what feels like the hundredth time as you follow her across the pristine green. the weight digs into your shoulder, pressing into already-sore muscles, and you know tomorrow will be hell. "can’t you just, i don’t know, get one of the employees to do this?"

jimin doesn’t even spare you a glance as she steps onto the tee box, stretching her arms above her head in a slow, languid motion. the movement elongates her frame, revealing a glimpse of her toned stomach, muscles flexing subtly under smooth skin. your throat goes dry, warmth creeping up your neck as you try, really try, not to react. you snap your gaze toward the horizon, willing yourself to think of anything else, but the image lingers stubbornly.

jimin, of course, is fully aware. she drops her arms with an easy grace, a knowing look flickering in her eyes before she turns away, the corner of her lips curving just slightly. not quite a smirk, but something close, something taunting. she rolls her wrists, settling into position like nothing happened, like she didn’t just momentarily wreck your focus with a stretch. "the employees," she says smoothly, rolling her wrist as she grips the club, "are not in debt to me for crashing into my car."

you groan, adjusting the heavy golf bag filled with clubs on your shoulder. easing the discomfort "you are never gonna let that go, are you?"

"not until you pay me back. and at the rate you’re going, that might take a while, hotshot." her voice is as sweet as honey but edged with superiority, like she’s savoring every second of your misery.

you clench your jaw. hotshot. again.

"you have to stop calling me that," you mutter, setting the bag down next to the tee box with more force than necessary, the weight making your arms ache.

except jimin isn’t looking at the bag. she’s watching you, the way your muscles shift as you move, the barely concealed strain in your shoulders. there’s something almost delighted in her gaze, like she’s found a new source of entertainment.

"oh? why? does it bother you?" she asks, plucking a driver from the bag with an ease that only irritates you further. the way her toned arms flex with the motion doesn't help either. she knows exactly what she’s doing, and judging by the quirk of her lips, she’s enjoying every second of your discomfort.

you narrow your eyes, crossing your arms. "it’s inaccurate."

she hums, lining up her shot, an infuriating smirk ghosting over her lips. "hmm. i disagree. you think you’re hot shit on the court, don’t you?"

her stance shifts slightly, feet planting firmly into the grass as she squares her shoulders. the way she moves is calculated. each adjustment precise, deliberate. you watch as her fingers curl around the grip, her knuckles flexing slightly as she angles her wrists just so. the air around her feels different in moments like this, a sharp contrast to the casual arrogance she usually wears like a second skin.

before you can respond, she swings. smooth. effortless. perfect.

the club slices through the air with a quiet whisper, and the ball soars down the course, landing dead center on the fairway. jimin straightens, tilting her head as she finally turns to look at you, self-satisfaction radiating from every inch of her.

"well?" she asks, the challenge clear in her voice.

you blink. what was the question again?

you clear your throat, forcing your expression into something unimpressed. "eh. i’ve seen better."

jimin steps closer, and you swear there’s something different in her movements now. something looser, almost playful. she twirls the club in her hands, letting it dig into the ground after catching it again. she rests on one leg as the other twists over another and leaned onto the club. "oh? who?"

you open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

she smirks. "thought so."

your cheeks heat for some stupid reason, and you quickly turn to grab the golf bag. except you miscalculate the weight, and the sudden shift nearly sends you stumbling forward. you barely catch yourself, muscles straining as you regain control, arms flexing instinctively.

jimin doesn’t say anything.

which is weird. because jimin always has something snarky to say.

when you glance up, you catch her staring. her gaze flickers, just for a second, down to your arms. subtle, almost unnoticeable, but you see it. the faintest parting of her lips, the quick inhale. a hesitation she probably isn’t even aware of.

you blink.

she blinks.

and just like that, her usual sharp expression returns, like she wasn’t just caught red-handed checking you out.

"keep up, caddy," she says coolly, turning on her heel. walking ahead of you

but her voice isn’t as sharp as before. slightly wavering and breathless.

you squint at her.

that was definitely something.

you hoist the golf bag onto your shoulder with a frustrated sigh, muttering under your breath as you follow after her. "this is gonna be the worst summer of my life."

she doesn’t turn around, but you swear you see the tiniest smirk.

the day only got worse from there. as if lugging around a golf bag that felt like it was stuffed with bricks wasn’t enough, you quickly learned that being jimin’s caddy also meant serving as her personal errand runner. every time she hit a ball off-course. which, to your growing dismay, was more often than you expected. she’d wave you off with a casual, “go fetch.”

and so, you trudged through endless patches of rough, waded through ankle-deep ponds, and even had to dig through bushes that seemed personally offended by your presence. at one point, you nearly lost your footing in a muddy ditch, and when you glanced back at jimin for some semblance of pity, she was too busy taking pictures. of you.

she was documenting your suffering.

"you’re actually evil," you huffed, you grumble, wiping a streak of dirt from your cheek with the back of your hand.

jimin forces her expression into something neutral, trying not to squeal at how adorable you look with a streak of dirt near where you just rubbed. ignoring the way her pulse has picked up.

"oh, come on, hotshot. i’m giving you a real athlete’s workout,” her voice comes out smoother than she expects, she can feel a slight waver in her voice. adjusting her visor with a smile that was entirely too pleased seeing you all dirty. she watches you bend down again, muscles flexing under that stupidly tight shirt. the sun clings to your skin, highlighting every sharp dip and defined ridge of your back as you drag another golf ball out of the mud.

before she can think twice she snaps another photo and sends it away into the groupchat. Her camera roll is basically just a collection of you suffering. her fingers hesitate before sending another one. she observed the recent picture; dirt smeared across your sharp jaw, shirt sticking to your back, the messy, tousled way your bangs fall over your forehead.

you look–

she presses her lips together, hard trying to shoo away the tingling feeling in her lower stomach. she swallows, shifting as you shake the ball off, sending tiny droplets flying, some landing on your shirt. the fabric clings a little more, stretched over the plane of your shoulders, and jimin lets out a slow, measured exhale through her nose. gaining her composure. her phone vibrates.

minjeong : omfg is she into women

aeri : BRO THAT BACKK

ningning : jimin why are you not on your knees begging for it

she rolled her eyes at her friends reactions towards the recent picture she sent with a caption of “asshole looking for the money she owes me”

but she isn’t fooling anyone. least of all herself. because when you push yourself up again, wiping sweat off your face with the hem of your shirt, exposing the faintest hint of your stomach, jimin’s stomach flips. she squeezes her thighs together. she needs to get a grip.

“you done gawking?”

her head snaps up. your brows are raised, a smirk playing at your lips as you watch her, amusement flickering in your eyes.

fuck.

"please," she scoffs, shoving her sunglasses back onto her face to hide her cheeks turning red. "don't flatter yourself."

she turns on her heel before she can do something humiliating. like actually drop to her knees.

jimin tells herself she’s just enjoying the entertainment. that’s all this is. watching you struggle under the weight of the golf bag, huffing as you haul clubs around like you’re in a survival challenge, is simply amusing.

but then there’s the way your shoulders flex when you readjust the strap. the way your forearms tighten when you lift a particularly heavy bag. the way your back muscles ripples under your shirt whenever you bend down to grab a stray golf ball.

it keeps the bad thoughts coming

she rolls her wrist, pretending to focus on lining up her next shot, but her mind is elsewhere. on the way you pushed your sleeves up earlier, the way your fingers curled around the soaked golf ball when you pulled it out of the pond. on the way you muttered under your breath, exasperated but still doing what she asked.

she clicks her tongue, shaking off the thought. Ridiculous. still, when you lift the bag onto your shoulder again, jaw set in stubborn determination, she feels something stupid and fluttery in her stomach.

“you better not be slacking back there, hotshot,” she calls out, voice steady, even if she feels anything but.

when you glare at her, eyes full of irritation, she almost forgets to breathe. you mutter something under your breath, probably another complaint about how unfair this whole arrangement is, and jimin should let it slide. she really should. but instead, she glances over just in time to catch the way you roll your shoulders back, shaking out the soreness like you’re on the court, like you’re about to sprint past defenders and sink a perfect shot. it’s so effortless—so natural—that for a second, she isn’t thinking about your debt or your grumbling or how much fun it is to make you suffer.

for a second, she’s just watching you move. her fingers tighten around her club.

“you’re really struggling, huh?” she teases, forcing her tone to stay light, even as something deep in her chest feels a little less steady. “should’ve hit the weight room instead of all that dribbling.”

you scoff, swinging the bag off your shoulder with one smooth motion. “please. you’d collapse if you had to carry this thing for five minutes.”and jimin should roll her eyes. should brush off the remark like she always does. but then you flex your hands, fingers stretching before tightening into a brief fist, veins barely visible against your skin.

her stomach does something weird.

she exhales sharply through her nose, turns away, and focuses very hard on adjusting her glove.

“whatever helps you sleep at night, hotshot.”

when she hears you groan behind her, she smiles to herself. but she doesn’t look back.

doesn’t trust herself to.

as you got ready for bed you read the text sent by the same unknown number from yesterday night. “7:30 sharp at the docks. eat bfr coming. im not feeding you. bring swim wear and a change of clothes.” you groaned loudly trying not to think about what she’ll be doing next.

“no fucking way.”

the words slip past your lips before you can stop them, eyes locked onto the massive yacht bobbing lazily on the crystal-clear water. sunlight bounces off the pristine white exterior, almost blinding, the sheer size of the vessel making your stomach twist with unease.

jimin stands a few feet ahead, completely at ease, like she was born to be here. her sunglasses are perched on top of her head, holding back strands of dark hair that catch in the wind. but that’s not what’s throwing you off.

it’s what she’s wearing.

the bikini is black, tiny, the kind that barely counts as clothing under the oversized white button up. the top ties behind her neck, accentuating the curve of her collarbones, the smooth lines of her shoulders. the bottoms sit high on her hips, the strings digging just enough into her skin to make something tighten low in your stomach.

the button up hanging loose off one shoulder, dipping low enough to tease the shape of her waist. it should make it less distracting, but it does the exact opposite. every time she moves, the material shifts, threatening to slip just enough to reveal more.

the teasing skin peaking from her button up that barely covers anything made something tighten in your lower stomach. you clenched your stomach muscle trying to regain grip of reality.

she finally glances back at you, raising a single brow like you’re being dramatic. “what?”

you blink, dragging your gaze up to her face like you hadn’t just been staring. “this is insane.” you gesture vaguely at the boat, trying to focus. “this is … this is some billionaire level shit. why am i here?”

her lips curl into a smirk, effortless and sharp. "because im not manning the sails this time, and luckily, you’re in debt to me."

before you can shoot back a very creative insult, a new voice cuts in, light, teasing, but with an unmistakable authority. "jimin, don’t be mean to your friend."

you turn just in time to see a woman stepping onto the dock, effortlessly elegant in a white sundress, dark hair twisted into a perfect bun. she moves like she belongs in a high end magazine, every step deliberate, eyes sharp as they take you in. and she looks exactly like how you’d imagine jimin looks like in 30 years.

"she's not my friend, mother," jimin corrects smoothly, adjusting her sunglasses. "she's my employee." smirking smugly as her mother grimaces at her oldest daughter. you shoot her a glare. "wow. charming as ever."

jimin’s mother merely smiles, amused. by how you handled her moody daughter. "well, employee or not, she's a guest today. come on, everyone's waiting on the boat."

you have no choice but to follow, your arm brushing against jimin’s as you step onto the yacht. the contact is brief, barely anything, but it makes your skin prickle, your senses hyper-aware of her proximity.

jimin isn't sure why she thought today would be easy.

it should be. she should be enjoying herself sailing with her family, soaking up the sun, watching you struggle to keep up. enjoying the sounds of your misery.

but instead, she’s distracted.

you’re sitting on the edge of the boat, legs stretched out, the ocean breeze playing with your hair. jimin watches, unable to help herself.

it’s not the muscles that have her staring, the muscles that she could vividly see from your white blouse that clings to your back, not really. it’s the way you move. the way your fingers work at the sleeves of your t-shirt, rolling them up with an absentminded ease, knotting the fabric at your elbows like it’s second nature. the way the sun clings to your skin, highlighting the gentle slopes of your arms, the curve of your shoulders. she doesn’t fail to notice the way your forearm muscles tightens as you fix your sleeve.

when you reach up to wipe at your forehead, a loose strand of hair falls into your face. you don’t notice at first, too busy squinting at something in the distance. then, with the smallest furrow of your brows, you shake your head just enough to make it shift, the motion unintentional, frustratingly endearing. and slightly domestic.

jimin’s chest tightens.

you’re adorable. ridiculously cute— no. stop it no shes not. she’s an asshole. she’s a stupid prick that crashed into your car.

and then you laugh quietly, mostly to yourself, like you just remembered something funny. the sound is soft, barely carried by the wind, but jimin feels it like a physical thing, like it reaches out and tugs at something deep inside her.

jimin looks away immediately, but it doesn’t help. because even when she’s not looking at you, she can still hear you—your quiet laughter, the soft hum you make under your breath as you stretch out your arms, the way you mutter something to yourself like you’re having a conversation in your own head.

she scowls. you’re so... you. completely unaware of the way you pull people in, make them want to lean closer, watch a little longer. it’s infuriating.

her fingers tighten around the railing. get a grip, jimin. but it’s hard when you keep doing things like scrunching your nose in concentration, tilting your head like a confused puppy at the sails above, or biting your lip in thought. completely unaware that someone is watching you, studying you.

and maybe that’s what’s getting to her the most.

it’s not the muscles, not the way you look, not even the way you carry yourself. it’s the way you exist, so utterly and completely in your own world. so unguarded. jimin doesn’t do unguarded. she doesn’t do soft, doesn’t do the kind of feelings that make your stomach twist and your throat feel tight. she does casual. she teases and flirts and doesn’t get attached.

she clears her throat, flexing her fingers before curling them into fists. she needs to do something—anything—to snap herself out of it.

“you’re gawking,” a voice beside her says, amused.

jimin stiffens. “am not.”

hanni, leaning lazily against the railing, tilts her head with the smuggest expression. “right. because you totally weren’t just staring like you forgot how to blink.” jimin scoffs, shoving her sunglasses onto her face with too much force. “you’re delusional.”

“and you’re in denial.”

jimin ignores her, choosing to focus on the water instead. the waves are steady, predictable, easy to think about. not like what she’s feeling in her chest. when she sees you dangling your feet from the yacht.

but hanni isn’t done.

“you know,” she hums, rocking onto the balls of her feet, “if you keep looking at her like that, someone might get the wrong idea.”

jimin doesn’t turn. “there is no idea to get.” she says firmly.

hanni grins. “sure. whatever you say, unnie.”

you shouldn't be enjoying this. well technically the hard labour hasn’t started yet. so you’re trying to enjoy the open water and much needed fresh air before jimin makes you her slave again. it feels nice.

"you seem to be having fun," jimin remarks, stepping up beside you. breaking the silence. here we go you thought. after ignoring her little sisters’ teasing. or, talk, you didn’t hear what they talked about but jimin looked pretty riled up after what hanni said. she’s decided to interrupt your peace and make your day worse.

you shrug, stretching your arms above your head with a dramatic sigh. "what can i say? i thrive in any environment." you said as you placed both arms beside letting it fall lazily. leaning on it. you blink your eyes open, glancing at her. her sunglasses are perched high on her nose, shielding her gaze, but you can still feel her looking. observing you.

her lips twitch, as if amused. "you nearly died on the green yesterday."

"yeah, well." you shift arms as you drawl out, shooting her a lopsided grin. "i'm an adaptable person."

there’s a beat of silence, but not the peaceful kind. it’s charged, stretching between you like a live wire. jimin’s head tilts ever so slightly, her gaze sweeping over you in a way that’s too slow, too deliberate. it makes your skin prickle, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

"apparently."

something about the way she says it makes your pulse jump. you shift under her scrutiny, suddenly too warm.her sunglasses may hide her eyes, but the smirk curling at the corner of her lips betrays her. it’s not just amused. it’s knowing, like she’s already several steps ahead of you in whatever game she’s playing. you shift, suddenly aware of how warm your skin feels. not from the sun, but from her unwavering attention.

"why are you looking at me like that?" you ask, voice coming out less steady than you wanted.

jimin doesn’t answer right away. instead, she steps in, just enough that the scent of her expensive perfume. fresh and citrusy, but with a sharp undertone wraps around you. she leans in, just slightly, just enough to test the space between you.

"like what?" she asks, voice lilting, teasing.

your voice stuck in your throat. you swallow.

"like you’re plotting my demise." you reply, forcing yourself to hold your ground.

her smirk deepens. she reaches up, adjusting her sunglasses with two fingers, and you catch a glimpse of her eyes beneath them. dark, glinting with something unreadable. "maybe i am."

the way she says it, low and smooth, sends an unwelcome shiver down your spine. you roll your eyes, ignoring the way your heartbeat picks up. "so much for enjoying the breeze."

jimin hums, dragging a slow gaze down the length of you before flicking it back up, lazy and considering. she taps a finger against her chin, as if in deep thought, before her lips curl into something far too smug.

"since you're so adaptable," she says, gesturing toward the rigging with an air of faux innocence, "you can help with the sails."

you groan, trudging over. she watches you come closer, arms crossed, lips curling ever so slightly.

she is not looking at your arms again.

she’s not.

the moment jimin smirked at you and told you to help with the sails, you should’ve known you were about to be thrown into another situation where you had no idea what you were doing. you squint at the ropes in your hands, then at the towering mast, then at the intricate mess of rigging all around. why are there so many ropes?

"you look confused," jimin says, standing just a little too close behind you.

"i am confused," you reply. "this is, like, rich people knowledge. i don’t know how to do any of this."

she huffs out a laugh. it almost sounds melodic in your ears. "rich people knowledge?"

"yes." you tug experimentally at one of the ropes, watching it pull at something above. "why do you even know how to do this? you’re not a pirate."

"my father made me learn when i was younger," she says. "he said that if we were going to own a yacht, we should at least know how to use it properly."

you snort. "wow. tragic backstory."

"just shut up and let me teach you," she mutters, stepping in closer.

you open your mouth to protest, but then her hands find yours.

your brain short-circuits.

her touch is soft– unexpectedly so. but firm, her fingers pressing lightly against yours, guiding them over the rope with practiced ease. her skin is cool against your own, which feels too warm all of a sudden, heat blooming along your knuckles, creeping up your arms. you swear its the burning sun right above you.

she leans in slightly, voice lower now that she’s right beside you. "you need to loop it like this. if you tie it too loose, the sail won’t hold. too tight, and you’ll mess up the balance."

you nod, but it’s a lie. you barely register what she’s saying.

because she’s close. close enough that her shoulder brushes against yours, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of her perfume mixed with the salt of the ocean. the warmth of her breath ghosts over your skin as she exhales, sending a shiver trailing down your spine.

your fingers twitch under hers. "right. got it," you manage, though your voice is slightly higher than usual. jimin chuckles low, quiet, right near your ear. your stomach flips. she’s enjoying this. you can tell. and judging by the smug curve of her lips when you glance at her, she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

you fumble with the ropes when she moves away as the wind picks up and before you know it, the rope slips through your fingers like water. the sail jerks violently in response, the sudden shift sending a sharp ripple through the boat.

"Shit-" you let out.

jimin moves fast, instinct kicking in as she reaches for the rigging to correct your mistake. but in the process, she miscalculates and her foot catches against yours that made her stumble.

and then, so do you.

your back slams against the side of the boat, the wooden railing pressing into your spine as you suck in a sharp breath. the impact sends a jolt through your body, momentarily stunning you, but your instincts take over before you can think. one hand grabs onto the railing for support, while the other finds jimin’s waist, fingers tightening reflexively around the fabric of her shirt where you can subtly feel her curves.

she stumbles into you fully, her body pressing flush against yours.

your heart stutters.

at the same time, jimin’s arm slings over your shoulder in a desperate attempt to steady herself, the warmth of her palm seeping through your long sleeves swim suit where she grips your biceps. her other hand is splayed against your arm, fingers digging in just enough for you to feel the faint press of her nails.

and suddenly, you’re close.

too close. you could feel the curves of her body against you. and how small she is in yor arms.

her body is warm, the scent of salt and sunscreen clinging to her skin. you can feel the way she breathes, chest rising and falling against yours. every small shift sends a spark of awareness shooting down your spine, your pulse hammering in your ears as the realization sinks in.

jimin is practically in your arms and she isn’t moving. neither are you.

her sunglasses slip down her nose from the movement, revealing her eyes for the first time today. deep brown, glinting under the sun, flickering with something you can’t quite read.

your breath catches in your throat. she looks so beautiful.

the ocean breeze swirls around you, but all you can feel is the heat radiating from her skin. your fingers twitch at her waist, hyper-aware of the way the fabric of her shirt feels beneath your palm, the slight give of her small body against yours. and the way you could subtly feel some of her skin against your swim wear.

jimin’s grip on your shoulder tightens, her jaw clenched, lips parted like she’s trying to find the right words. but none come. you dont know whats going through her mind but you knew for sure she isn’t moving when you saw how her eyes flickered to your lips. somehow it made your heart flutter.

you could feel her leaning into you slightly.

and then—

"are you two gonna kiss or what?"

the words cut through the moment like a gunshot.

you jerk back, nearly losing your footing, barely managing to catch yourself before you go overboard. while jimin’s reaction is immediate. her head whips around so fast her visor nearly flies off, her expression shifting from surprise to outright murderous in the blink of an eye.

"seriously?" she snaps.

hanni, standing a few feet away, leans against the railing with the smuggest grin you’ve ever seen. jimin groans, yanking herself out of your grasp, face scrunched in exasperation. you, on the other hand, are still stuck processing what just happened, trying to ignore the way your pulse is hammering in your ears. and how you miss the closeness between you two.

after jimin left you to man the sails alone while she went to cool off, you actually got pretty good at it. her dad even threw in some pointers, guiding you through the ropes. literally. by now, you had a decent handle on things, adjusting the sails without fumbling, reading the wind like it was second nature. the boat had drifted far from shore, the coastline long gone, replaced by nothing but open water stretching endlessly in every direction.

"you can slow down here, y/n," jimin’s dad called from behind you as you pulled at the ropes, adjusting the sails to ease the boat to a gentler pace. you heard him shift, standing to get a better look at the sea. "your friend’s a natural, jimin. almost better than you!" his voice carried a teasing lilt.

you glanced toward where jimin sat, catching the way her expression twisted in surprise, then in pure irritation. she scoffed, rolling her eyes before mumbling something you couldn’t quite catch under her breath.

you smirked, triumphant, meeting her gaze.

she narrowed her eyes. then, she raised her hand and flipped you off. unhinged woman. your smirk faltered. rude.

but before you could retaliate, jimin moved. without hesitation, she stood, reaching for the buttons of her white shirt. and then she pulled it off.

your brain short-circuited.

the world around you dimmed, the sound of the ocean fading into white noise as your eyes locked onto the sight in front of you. jimin, standing tall against the backdrop of the sea, the late afternoon sun catching on her skin, making her glow.

she wore a dark bikini underneath, the contrast against her pale sun-kissed skin. her collarbones, sharp and delicate, dipped into smooth shoulders. her toned stomach tensed slightly as she tossed her shirt aside, the movement effortless, like she’d done this a thousand times before.

you were gawking.

full-on, shamelessly gawking.

your brain screamed at you to stop staring, trying to maintain your pride. but your body refused to cooperate. your grip on the ropes slackened slightly, fingers numb as your heart threw itself against your ribs.

jimin caught the look on your face and smirked.

"what?" she teased, tilting her head slightly, the picture of nonchalance. "you act like you’ve never seen someone undress before."

you opened your mouth.whether to respond or gasp for air, you weren’t sure. but nothing came out.

jimin grinned, pleased with herself, before turning toward the edge of the boat. with one quick motion, she dove into the water, leaving you standing there, still reeling, heat creeping up your neck.

you blinked.

then, as if snapping out of a trance, you stumble forward, rushing to the railing. “i—i have!” the words rush out too fast, tripping over themselves, your voice cracking at the end. you cringe.

jimin flicked her hair back as water drips from her lashes. she treads the water effortlessly, blinking up at you with an infuriatingly amused expression. “oh?” her tone is light, teasing, but there’s something smug underneath it, something that makes your stomach twist. “sure doesn’t sound like it.”

your grip on the railing tightens, knuckles paling. “what—i—" you struggle to form a coherent thought, already feeling your face burning. “i have! plenty of times! so many times!”

her giggles spills into the air, bright and carefree, and it does something to you makes your heart stutter, your skin prickle with warmth. she tilts her head back, still treading water, the sun catching in her damp hair. “right, sure. totally convincing.”

you scowl, shifting on your feet, jaw tightening. “it’s true! i’ve seen—” you pause, realizing too late that you have absolutely no idea how to finish that sentence without sounding even more embarrassing. “—a lot. like, more than you. probably.”

jimin raises a brow, cocking her head. “oh? who?”

your stomach twists into a knot, your brain sending red flags. screaming at you to abort mission immediately. you clear your throat, straightening up, forcing a casual shrug. “no,” you say, too quickly. “that’s private information.”

jimin watches you for a beat, her lips twitching like she’s holding back another laugh. then she smirks, shaking her head. “uh-huh. totally not a virgin.”

“i’m not!” you blurt, leaning forward slightly, the desperation in your voice betraying you.

her grin only widens, eyes twinkling with mischief as she sways in the water. “whatever helps you sleep at night, captain.”

you groan, dropping your head against the railing in defeat as she swims off, still laughing, while you try to cooldown after the embarrassing encounter.

“y/n! jump in!” you heard hanni yell from behind you. as you lift your head up you saw her lining up to jump in. she jumped in with a big splash. droplets sprayed onto the deck. jimin’s mom called out “hanni be careful!”

your gaze shifts slightly, catching sight of jimin a few feet away, floating on her back with her eyes closed, her dark hair fanning out around her like ink in the water. her skin glistens under the sun, droplets clinging to her collarbones, trailing down the curve of her neck. you sighed, your body got hot after the embarrassing encounter and also seeing jimin swim. you needed to cool down. you exhale sharply, shaking yourself out of it. if you stay up here any longer, you’ll combust.

you roll your shoulders back, determined to regain at least a fraction of your dignity, and then you jumped. the moment you hit the water, a sharp chill runs through you, sending a jolt up your spine. it’s refreshing, the kind of coolness that makes your skin tingle, but it’s a relief from the heat that had been burning through you moments ago.

you resurface with a gasp, shaking water from your face, and when you blink the droplets away, the first thing you see is jimin.

she’s closer now. much closer.

your breath catches as she treads the water effortlessly, dark strands of wet hair clinging to her cheeks. the sun reflects off the droplets on her skin, making them glisten like tiny diamonds. she studies you, her gaze flickering over your face with a glint of something unreadable.

“not bad,” she hums, tilting her head slightly.

you scoff, trying to ignore the way your skin prickles under her gaze. “i’d say the same for you, but you practically belly-flopped.”

jimin rolls her eyes, a smirk playing at her lips. you turn to swim away, but just as you do water hit your back. splash. you freeze. the feeling of cold water hits your back, sending a shiver up your spine.you turn back around slowly, and there she is half-smirking, half-feigning innocence, fingers still dripping from where she flicked water at you.

“did you just—?”

before you can finish your sentence, another splash comes at you, bigger this time, sending water cascading over your face. you sputter, wiping at your eyes, and jimin bursts out laughing, the sound rich and full, like wind chimes in the summer breeze.

thats it.

with no hesitation, you lunge forward, sweeping your hand through the water to send a wave right at her. she squeals, ducking just a second too late, and now it’s her turn to be dripping wet.

before you can react, she lunges toward you, fingers skimming along your arm as she tries to dunk you under. practically drowning you. instinctively, you grab her waist, attempting to shove her away, but the water betrays you both. it makes everything weightless, the waves crashing between your bodies pulling both of your boddies together. bodies tangling and shifting without control.

somehow, amongst the struggle, her arms end up draped over your shoulders, and your hands—god, your hands—find purchase at her waist again, fingers pressing into the bare skin beneath the hem of her swimsuit.

for a moment, neither of you move.

you can feel her breath against your face, warm despite the cool water surrounding you. the soft rhythm of her chest rising and falling against yours. the way her fingers tighten, just slightly, curling over the nape of your neck.

her eyes flicker up to meet yours deep brown, like melted chocolate, like something you could get lost in if you weren’t careful. they shift lower for a split second, down to your lips, before darting back up again.

your heart slams against your ribs. it looks like shes about to kiss you. a little voice in your head hoping she would and you swear the world tilts. or maybe it’s just the waves.

jimin blinks once, twice, her lashes damp and heavy with water, before her expression shifts. something playful flickers back into her eyes, her lips twitching.

and then, she shoves you under.

you barely have time to yelp before water fills your ears, muffling the sound of her laughter. when you break the surface again, gasping for air, she’s already swimming away, shooting you a look over her shoulder that’s equal parts smug and daring.

“too slow,” she calls out.

you push your wet hair back, panting, watching her retreating figure with something caught between disbelief and something else entirely. something warmer.

you remember the way her fingers curled at the nape of your neck. the way her breath fanned against your lips. the way, for a split second, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you.

you shake your head, forcing a scoff, trying to ignore the way your pulse is still erratic. this is jimin. jimin. the same girl who flipped you off an hour ago, who smirked as she stripped off her shirt just to get a reaction out of you.

nothing about this is different. you assure yourself. and yet, as you watch her swim away, her laughter still echoing in your ears, you can’t shake the feeling that something bloom in your chest.

[blairxbear]

When they realise they are in love with you.

MHA Class 1A Head cannons

Class 1A / Other UA Students / Pro Heroes / Villains

How will the boys of Class 1A react to realising that they are in love with you?

Featuring: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, Eijiro Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, Hanta Sero, Fumikage Tokoyami, Mashirao Ojiro, Mezo Shoji, Rikido Sato, Koda Koji.

Izuku Midoriya

• He doesn’t realize it at first—it hits him like a train when someone else points it out.

• You’re patching up his wounds after a battle, scolding him like usual, and he just stares at you.

• “They care about me so much… I don’t ever want to lose them.”

• That’s when it clicks—his face turns beet red, and he literally short-circuits trying to process it.

• He starts writing about you in his notebooks, not just as a hero, but as his hero.

• Tries to confess a dozen times but ends up stammering and running away.

Katsuki Bakugo

• He freaking hates it when he realizes he’s in love.

• He notices he gets jealous when you talk to others too casually.

• He starts training even harder because he wants to be stronger for you.

• The moment it fully hits him? You defend him from someone bad-mouthing him, and his chest tightens.

• “Shit… I don’t just like them. I love them.”

• He won’t say it out loud but becomes insanely protective overnight.

• If someone flirts with you, he glares daggers and pulls you closer.

• His confession is awkward but genuine—probably blurts out “I love you, okay?! Now deal with it!”

Shoto Todoroki

• Love isn’t something he understands right away—it’s foreign but comforting.

• He notices he trusts you more than anyone else and actually wants to be around you.

• One day, you brush a strand of hair from his face, and his heart skips a beat.

• “Why does my chest feel warm? Is this…?”

• He spends weeks thinking about what this feeling means.

• His father’s influence made him fear attachment, but with you, he feels safe.

• He realizes he loves you when he catches himself smiling for no reason just because you exist.

• When he confesses, it’s simple but deeply meaningful—“I think I love you. No, I know I do.”

Eijiro Kirishima

• He’s the type to fall fast and hard, but he won’t admit it until it hits him like an explosion.

• You do something small but meaningful, like fixing his hair or remembering his favorite drink, and suddenly, he’s melting.

• His brain just goes: “Oh no. Oh NO. I LOVE THEM.”

• The moment he realizes it, he becomes the most obvious person alive—grinning like an idiot, blushing when you compliment him.

• Denki figures it out first and teases him relentlessly.

• He confesses spontaneously—probably during training or when you’re just hanging out.

• “Hey… I, uh, love you. Like, really love you.”

Denki Kaminari

• He thinks he’s just crushing on you, but one night, you laugh at one of his dumb jokes, and his heart flips.

• “Wait… why do I want to make them laugh forever?”

• He starts noticing the little things—the way your eyes sparkle, the way you say his name.

• Suddenly, every love song reminds him of you.

• He realizes he loves you when you comfort him after a bad day, holding his hand without judgment.

• He panics—freaks out and tells Sero before he even tells you.

• Ends up blurting it out without thinking—probably during a sparring session.

• “Oh, shit—did I just say that out loud? …Well, I meant it.”

Henta Sero

• Realizes it slowly but surely—love creeps up on him like his tape until it’s wrapped around his heart.

• It happens during a casual hangout, maybe when you’re laughing at one of his dumb jokes.

• “Damn, I’d do anything to hear that laugh every day.”

• His friends notice before he does because he starts bringing you up in every conversation.

• “Oh, Y/N likes that movie too!” “Y/N would totally win this game.”

• When he realizes, he’s cool about it but lowkey dying inside.

• He confesses casually but sweetly, probably while sharing a snack.

• “So… I’m kinda in love with you. Thought you should know.”

Fumikage Tokoyami

• He doesn’t see it as love at first—he calls it “a deep admiration”.

• Dark Shadow calls him out first: “Dude, you’re OBSESSED.”

• He realizes he loves you when he misses you more than he should.

• The thought of you being hurt makes his blood run cold—he becomes fiercely protective.

• He confesses in a poetic and dramatic way—probably quotes some gothic literature.

• “My heart, once shrouded in darkness, now finds solace in you.”

• He’s nervous about whether you’ll accept him, but when you do, he’s deeply devoted.

Tenya Iida

• Love is logical to him, so he doesn’t understand why his brain short-circuits around you.

• Realizes it when he starts worrying about you more than necessary.

• “Are they drinking enough water? Did they eat today? Should I check on them?”

• The real moment? You tell him to relax, placing a hand on his arm, and suddenly, his heart is racing.

• He denies it at first—tries to rationalize it.

• But one day, you cheer for him in a match, and it clicks—he wants you by his side forever.

• His confession is formal but flustered—“I have come to the realization that I love you. I hope you will accept my feelings.”

Mashirao Ojiro

• He falls first but doesn’t say anything—he’s the quiet type about his feelings.

• The moment he realizes? Sparring with you, when you pin him down and smirk.

• “Oh, I’m completely in love with them.”

• He acts normal but becomes a little more protective, a little more soft-spoken around you.

• His tail wags when you’re near, and he hates that everyone notices.

• He confesses simply but sincerely—probably under the stars or after training.

• “I love you. I don’t need anything back, I just wanted you to know.”

Mezo Shoji

• Realizes it when he starts looking forward to your voice every day.

• He’s always been reserved, but you make him feel safe.

• The moment he knows? You tell him he’s beautiful, and he nearly chokes on air.

• “They… they actually see me.”

• His confession is quiet but meaningful—probably late at night when you’re alone.

• “You’re the only one who makes me feel like this. I think… no, I know I love you.”

Rikido Sato

• He realizes he’s in love while baking—he catches himself making extra portions just for you, even when you’re not around.

• One day, you sneak into the kitchen to help, and he watches you struggle with frosting a cupcake.

• Instead of laughing, he just smiles fondly and thinks, “I want to do this with them forever.”

• The moment it really clicks is when you try his baking and get so excited, giving him the biggest grin.

• His heart pounds, and suddenly, the sweetest thing in the room isn’t the cake.

• Becomes super flustered around you after that, fumbling with ingredients and spacing out.

• His confession is adorably shy, probably over a homemade dessert.

• “I, uh… I made this for you. And also, I think I love you.”

Koji Koda

• He falls slowly but deeply, and it takes a while for him to understand his feelings.

• He realizes it when he notices the way animals react to you—his rabbits love you, birds always fly near, and even skittish animals trust you.

• One day, you rescue a tiny injured bird, and as he watches you care for it so gently, his heart swells.

• “They’re so kind… I never want to leave their side.”

• The next time you smile at him, his whole face turns red, and he gets so nervous he forgets how to talk.

• Starts getting extra shy around you, but his actions speak louder—always carrying things for you, making sure you’re safe, sitting near you quietly.

• His confession is soft but heartfelt, maybe while watching the sunset with you.

• “I… I think I love you. You make my world so much brighter.”

Ko-fi / Masterlist

blairxbear © 2024. do not copy, modify, or translate my work. you do not have permission to share my work outside of tumblr!

[honeyryewhiskey]

⋆｡°✩ no mini-skirts allowed

synopsis ✩ teasing older!dean has become your favorite pass time here comes trouble intro page for more age gap drabbles

warnings ✩ 18+ descriptions of dean being horny, skimpy outfits, undressing, flaunting/teasing, restraint 1.8k words

Dean’s pushing fifty, he’s seen every kind of mini-skirt a woman could wear—denim, snakeskin, pleated, painted-on tight. And you—you’ve got one of each.

Every damn day, it’s something new. One morning, it’s a little plaid number, all flirty and preppy, barely covering a damn thing as you lounge on the couch. The next, it’s tight denim, hugging every curve as you bend over the Impala’s hood, pretending to be interested in whatever he’s fixing. Then there’s the snakeskin one—hell, that one nearly did him in. Slinking around the bunker like some kind of walking temptation, flashing him that wicked little smirk every time you caught him looking.

But today—it’s the black one.

The shortest, clingiest, most offensive thing you’ve ever worn. And it’s been a problem all day.

Maybe it’s because you’re practically flaunting it in his face. Maybe you damn well know what you’re doing. Maybe it’s because Dean knows if he was his younger self, he’d have spent the whole day with his hips locked between your thighs—but you’re a case. A spritely little thing he swore to protect, not defile. Either way, Dean’s been fighting a losing battle, his patience wearing thinner with every step you take.

And you’re enjoying every second of it.

This morning, when he stepped out of the gas station, he damn near dropped the bag in his hand at the sight of you bent over the Impala’s vinyl seat, half inside the car, digging around the floorboards. The fabric was stretched to its absolute limit, clinging to every dip and curve, and that little triangle of pink lace peeking out from between your thighs was down right offensive to his resolve.

Dean stopped dead, heat crawling up the back of his neck, his grip tightening on the plastic bag until the rustling of it was the only sound he could process. That sliver of lingerie was a goddamn bullseye, branding itself into his brain. His stomach clenched, jeans tightening around his cock far too much for a man standing in a parking lot at eight in the morning.

He ripped his gaze away, clearing his throat like that might dislodge the image from his brain. “You lose somethin’?”

You wiggled. Hips twitching as you hummed back, “mhm. My phone.”

Dean turned on his heel so fast it nearly gave him whiplash, muttering something about being careful as he yanked open the driver’s side door and tossed the bag on the dash. No way in hell was he standing behind you. Instead, he slid into the seat, reaching under the passenger side until his fingers curled around the cool, smooth shape of your phone.

“Here,” he grumbled, practically shoving it into your hand without looking at you.

You only smiled, sweet and cunning—like you knew just how much you’d wrecked his entire damn morning.

Later, while Dean was working on Baby in the garage, he was trying—really trying—to focus on the engine in front of him, but that damn skirt was making it impossible.

You’d perched yourself on a barstool a few feet away, flipping lazily through some magazine like you had no care about what you were doing to him. Legs crossed just enough to hike the fabric higher, teasing the soft skin of your thighs.

He forced himself to keep his eyes on his work, tightening a bolt with more force than necessary. But his resolve slipped when your legs parted—slowly—before crossing again, like you were stretching just for the hell of it.

Dean caught the flicker of a smirk on your lips.

Son of a bitch.

He gritted his teeth, wrench working double time to keep his hands occupied. The garage was warm, but it wasn’t the heat making sweat gather at his collar. He knew better than to look again—knew damn well that every glance was just giving you ammunition.

But then you hopped down from the stool, the movement making the hem of that tiny excuse for a skirt ride up just enough to give him a peek at the curves of your ass. The little top you have on doesn’t help, the hem doesn’t even cover past your belly button. The plush skin of your stomach pokes out between the two pieces, another taunt. Another image burned into his brain that’ll creep back into his mind when he’s alone in his bedroom at night. 

Dean muttered a curse under his breath, dragging a hand over his stubbled jaw. You didn’t adjust the fabric, didn’t even pretend to be modest as you strutted past him like you hadn’t just shortened his lifespan by a couple years.

“That skirt’s a safety hazard,” he grumbled, voice rougher than he meant it to be.

You didn’t even glance his way, just laughed, light and teasing, as you bent over to grab a drink from the cooler. The motion made the back of your skirt ride up again, and Dean had to snap his gaze to the ceiling before his self-control completely crumbled.

“Right,” you chided, cracking open a bottle of water. “You worried about my safety, big guy?”

Dean exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders like that might shake the tension out. “Yeah,” he muttered, wrench clanking against the metal. “Somethin’ like that.”

But you heard the strain in his voice. And from the way you licked a stray drop of water off your lip, eyes meeting his like a damn challenge—you knew you had him closer to where you wanted him.

The breaking point comes when you crouch in front of a bookshelf in the bunker’s library, back to him, that godforsaken skirt dipping low. The waistband sliding down your back enough for the strings of your panties to come fully into view. Slung around your hips, material so thin Dean figures it’d take one pull to tear the lacey pink from your skin. 

Dean’s hands clench at his sides. His jaw locks. His restraint is hanging by a damn thread, and he’s too tired to keep up his composure.

“All right, that’s it,” he announces, voice gruff, decisive. “No more skirts.”

You glance back at him over your shoulder, blinking wide, innocent eyes. “No more skirts?”

His stare is locked onto you like a man staring down a loaded gun, like he’s already taken the hit but is too damn stubborn to go down. “You heard me.”

Slowly, deliberately, you rise to your feet, turning to face him, that little smirk playing at the corners of your lips. “I don’t know what you mean, Dean,” you say sweetly, approaching him with your hands behind your back. “It’s just a skirt.”

Dean exhales sharply through his nose, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Your head tilts, mischief gleaming in your eyes, and then—without breaking eye contact—you take another slow, deliberate step into his space. Close enough that the air between you turns thick. Close enough that he can smell the vanilla in your shampoo, feel the heat radiating off your skin.

“Take it off me, then.”

The words go straight to his growing bulge, all the heat in his body coursing to his core. He prays you don’t glance down, because he knows that triumphant little smirk will come back and he can’t do anything about it. 

Dean stills. His fingers twitch at his sides like he’s fighting the instinct to grab. His gaze flickers over your face, lingering on your lips for a beat too long, before dropping—just for a second—to the hem of that damn skirt. At the lace still peeking over the waistband because you, apparently, are refusing to adjust it today. 

For half a second, you think he might actually do it.

His hand lifts—just an inch, just enough for his fingers to graze across your hip and naval, the heat of his fingertips burning against the soft exposed skin of your stomach. A touch so fleeting, so barely-there, but enough to make your breath hitch.

Dean hears it. His jaw flexes, nostrils flaring.

And then—just as quickly—his fingers curl into a fist, like he’s physically snatching his own control back.

With a rough exhale, Dean steps back, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear it, like he's some damn teenager again, knocked flat by the first girl who ever looked at him like she wanted more. His restraint is hanging by a thread, fraying fast. “Go to your room,” he mutters, voice like gravel.

You laugh, soft and teasing, the sound sliding down his spine like a warm hand.  “Go to my room?”

Dean’s jaw clenches, fingers flexing at his sides. “Before I do something stupid,” he grits out. “This—” he motions between you, frustration rolling off him in waves, “can’t happen.”

His voice is strained, rough-edged, but his eyes—the heat in them, the way they drink you in like you’re something dangerous tells you that there's hardly any grit behind those words.

He’s not giving in yet, fine, but can't happen and won't happen are two different things. And besides, you’re sure as hell not done toying with him for the day. You tilt your head, all wide eyes and faux innocence, “Fine. I’ll take it off.”

Dean doesn’t even have time to process the words before your hands are slipping under the waistband, pushing the little black scrap of fabric down your thighs. The air in the room shifts, charged, like a storm gathering on the horizon.

Dean’s throat works as he swallows hard, pulse hammering in his ears as the skirt pools at your feet. His gaze—traitorous, desperate—flickers downward before he can stop it.

Pink lace. Thin. Damn near sinful.

Heat licks up his spine, tightens his stomach, makes his skin prickle like he’s seventeen again, fumbling through the backseat of a car with a girl he has no business touching. Only this is worse. Because he’s not some dumb kid—he knows better. And yet, he still can’t look away.

Then you turn your back to him and bend at the waist. Slow. Deliberate.

Dean grips the back of the chair beside him like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to sanity, fingers digging into the worn wood. His jaw flexes so tight it aches. His eyes watch shamelessly as you give him full view of everything he's craving. Skin he can't let himself touch, hips he wants to grip onto while he fucks some of that attitude out of you.

And you—like you don’t even feel the heat radiating off him, like you didn’t just wreck him beyond repair—saunter toward the door in nothing but that little top and pink panties.

At the threshold, you pause. With a wicked little smile, you toss the discarded skirt over your shoulder.

It smacks Dean square in the chest.

He catches it on instinct, fingers fisting in the fabric, knuckles going white. The soft material, still warm from your body, feels like a brand against his skin, like evidence of the war he’s losing.

“You are gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, voice low, wrecked.

You glance back at him over your shoulder, a smirk playing at your lips. “What a way to go, huh?”

Dean doesn’t answer. He just stands there, burning, watching you disappear down the hall, still gripping that damn skirt like it might be the only thing keeping him from chasing after you.

You never got that black mini-skirt back. 

tags ✩ @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @daylighted @jollyhunter @soldiersgirl @bejeweledinterludes @bluemerakis @cowboysandcigarettes @littlesoulshine @couturewinx @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @snowluvvie

[cayleeuhithinknott]

❛ 𝑳𝑬𝑻 𝑴𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑪𝑲 𝑶𝑵 𝑼𝑹

𝑻𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑶𝑶𝑺 ❜

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉…you love matt’s tattoos, and it escalates to something more.

pairing: sweetheart!matt & shy!reader

cw: SMUT, oral (m receiving), pet names, tattoo licking? LMAO and probably more!

wc: 2.8k

you really need to get a grip.

or at the very least, stop staring.

but it’s impossible, because matt’s sitting next to you on the couch, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re dying inside, and his tattoo sleeve is just there.

he’s scrolling through his phone, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, his muscles shifting every time his fingers move. and it’s stupid, so so stupid, because you’ve seen his tattoos a million times before. you’ve traced them with your fingers, asked about their meanings, even watched him get some of them done.

but right now, you want to do something else entirely.

something that involves your mouth.

and that’s mortifying.

your face burns as the thought sinks in. it’s not like you to have thoughts this bold, this needy. but for some reason, today, your brain has decided to hyperfixate on the idea of pressing your lips to his skin.

biting it. licking it. marking it, like that would somehow make it yours.

your stomach tightens. you cross your arms, shifting uncomfortably. this is ridiculous. he’d never let you do something like that. it’s weird. you’re weird.

but the urge doesn’t go away. in fact, it gets worse, especially when he sighs and stretches, rolling his shoulders, his tattoos moving with him.

you swallow hard.

your gaze drifts along the inked-up skin, the way the designs flow together, the way the dark ink contrasts against his pale complexion. your fingers twitch.

you want to touch him.

you want to taste him.

matt glances over at you, and your heart plummets.

“baby?”

your spine stiffens. “yeah?”

his lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smile. “you okay?”

“yep,” you blurt out, nodding too fast. “totally fine. why?”

his head tilts. “because you’ve been staring at my arm for like…ten minutes.”

your face erupts in heat.

you shake your head frantically. “no, i haven’t.”

he raises an eyebrow. “so if i asked you what i just said a minute ago, you’d remember?”

you open your mouth. close it.

you didn’t even know he was talking to you before he’d finally grabbed your attention.

his smile grows. “that’s what i thought.”

your heart is racing. you need to get out of this conversation. fast. “it’s nothing,” you mumble, turning away. “just zoning out.”

but he’s not buying it. you can feel him staring at you, studying you, and then—because matt is matt—he shifts closer, resting his forearm on his thigh, putting his tattoos right in your line of sight.

your stomach flips.

he’s testing you.

you try to ignore it, but your eyes keep flickering back, betraying you. and then he does the worst thing possible—he flexes his fingers—fuck, his fingers—veins shifting under the ink, and you swear you feel your pulse in places you shouldn’t.

oh, you hate him.

you squeeze your thighs together, hands balling into fists in your lap. your mouth is so dry. other parts of you are not.

“sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “what is it?”

you shake your head. “nothing.”

he doesn’t push, but he also doesn’t look away. he’s waiting. he knows.

and you know you shouldn’t say it. you know you should keep your mouth shut. but your brain-to-mouth filter decides to take the night off, and before you can stop yourself, you whisper, “can i…can i kiss them?”

silence.

your heart stops.

oh. oh no.

why would you say that?

you slap a hand over your mouth, mortified beyond belief, but matt doesn’t laugh. he doesn’t tease. he just blinks at you, like he’s processing the words.

your stomach drops. “forget i said anything,” you rush out, turning away, but before you can retreat, matt’s hand is on your chin, tilting your face back toward him.

your breath catches.

his gaze is steady, unreadable. “you wanna kiss my tattoos?”

your skin burns. “i-i didn’t mean—”

“you did,” he interrupts gently, watching you carefully. “and that’s okay.”

you can barely breathe. “it’s weird,” you mumble, embarrassed. “you probably think i’m weird.”

his thumb strokes your jaw. “i don’t.”

you hesitate. he seems…serious. and more than that, he seems open to it.

“really?” you whisper.

he nods. then, he lifts his arm slightly, offering it to you. “go ahead, baby.”

your heart pounds.

you hesitate for a moment longer, searching his face for any sign of amusement, but there’s none. he’s genuine.

so, cautiously, you reach out, fingers grazing over the ink. his skin is warm under your touch, the veins and muscles firm beneath it.

you swallow.

and then, slowly, you lean down and press a soft, tentative kiss to his forearm.

his breath hitches.

your stomach flips.

you do it again, lips lingering a little longer this time, and when you glance up at him, his jaw is tight, his eyes darker than before.

your confidence spikes.

you move up his arm, kissing along the intricate lines and shading, letting your lips drag. your hands slide up to his bicep, fingertips pressing lightly into the muscle as your mouth lingers on his skin.

when you let your tongue flick out, tracing over a particularly detailed part of the ink, you hear him suck in a sharp breath.

oh.

oh.

this is affecting him.

you bite back a smile, growing bolder. your teeth graze the skin, nipping lightly at the ink, and matt shudders.

his hand comes up to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair. he’s not pushing—just holding. just feeling.

“fuck,” he exhales, voice strained. “keep going, baby.”

your stomach flutters.

you obey, mouth moving higher, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along his shoulder. your tongue traces over the ink, warm and wet, and matt shivers.

your eyes flicker up. his lips are parted, his breathing slightly uneven, and his grip in your hair tightens when you bite down again, harder this time.

he lets out a low, shaky laugh. “jesus,” he mutters. “didn’t know you had this in you.”

you don’t answer. you just hum against his skin, sucking lightly at one of the designs.

and that’s when you feel it.

something pressing against your thigh.

your breath catches.

oh, shit.

matt stiffens slightly, realizing at the same time you do. “ignore that,” he mutters, shifting like he’s trying to move away. “not my fault you’re—”

“you’re hard,” you say, voice a little breathless.

he groans, tipping his head back. “don’t say it like that.”

you bite your lip. “but you are.”

he looks back down at you, exasperated. “yeah, no shit, baby.”

your stomach tightens. because suddenly, the wetness between your thighs is impossible to ignore, too.

your mouth is still against his shoulder. his grip is still firm in your hair. and you’re both sitting there, breathless and flushed, knowing exactly where this is leading.

he exhales slowly, voice low. “c’mon,” he murmurs, tugging you closer. “we’re going to my room.”

your pulse races.

yeah. you definitely need to get a grip.

matt’s sat on the edge of the bed with you on your knees in front of him. things had escalated. you were only in your bra and shorts, matt being fully naked.

you’ve got one hand cupped under his balls and the other hand lazily stroking his length. matt’s got his fingers gently threaded in your hair, gazing down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. because to him, you are.

you press feather-light kisses up and down his cock, occasionally deliberately dragging your tongue over the more pronounced veins. you were a little nervous. you’d given him head tons of times, so you weren’t quite sure what was different this time.

your movements slow even more, hesitation creeping in as your lips hover over his tip, unsure. your hand stills at the base of his cock. the heat of his gaze burns into you, and when you finally gather the courage to look up at him, it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.

his eyes are heavy-lidded, dark and unreadable, but there’s something there—something that makes your stomach twist and your pulse stutter. is he…waiting? does he want you to keep going? or worse—was that bad? oh god, what if you—

“hey,” his voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts, gentle but firm. his fingers unweave themselves from your hair to trace lightly over your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin in a way that makes you shiver. “you’re doing so good, sweetheart.” the way he says it is so easy, like there isn’t a doubt in his mind. like you aren’t sitting here second-guessing every little thing.

you swallow hard, your breath shaky, and he must notice because he tilts his head, eyes softening. “you can keep going,” he murmurs, his voice low, warm. “take your time. i promise, you’re perfect.”

oh. yeah, that definitely does something to you. your fingers twitch where they rest, your skin buzzing under the weight of his approval. something about the way he’s looking at you—patient, expectant, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips—sends heat crawling down your spine.

so you inhale slowly, steady yourself, and do exactly what he says.

you give him a couple more slow strokes before wrapping your plush lips around the head of his cock. as his breath hitches, you feel a familiar heat pooling in your core. but, this isn’t about you, right now. you want to make him feel good.

you start to take his cock deeper into your mouth, and matt’s hand immediately finds it’s way back to your hair. you force your head down a little further, choking slightly. “you’re okay, sweetheart. doin’ great.” matt mutters softly, and you can feel his gaze on you.

you transfer your gaze to look up at him as you start to move your head up and down. he throws his head back as you use your hand to pump the length you can’t fully fit, eliciting pleasured groans to fall from his pink lips.

when he looks down at you again, your eyes meet, and he almost cums on the spot just from fucking looking at you. he’s down bad.

you grip his cock a little tighter in your hand, moving your head a little faster as well. the feeling of your warm, wet throat constricting him is pure ecstasy for him. “shit, baby, you’re so good…” he groans, squeezing your hair a little but loosening his grip when he realizes what he’s doing.

tears drip down your cheeks as drool seeps out from the corners of your lips—now you were starting to struggle. you let out a soft whine, and matt looks down at you, taking the hint that you need help. he starts to move your head down until his entire cock is in your mouth and your nose is pressed to his lower tummy.

you gag slightly and he pulls you almost all the way off before pushing you back down again. he thrusts into your mouth slowly, not wanting to hurt you in any way. “can i go a little faster, sweetness?” matt asks breathlessly. you hum around his cock, which is a green-light for matt.

he starts to fuck into you a little quicker now, his tip hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. each little choke and gag of yours drew him closer to his release, and every one of his moans and groans powered you to hold it together.

“take it all, sweetheart, i know you can…fuck,” he tosses his head back. you start to incorporate your tongue more, to which he releases a sound that almost sounds like a whimper. fuck. “you’re—ngh—shit, baby, you’re so good..”

matt lets out a shaky exhale, a soft whine slipping out as he fucks your face even faster. your chin and chest were covered in drool, but you didn’t even care. he bucks his hips up particularly hard, eliciting a loud choked sound from you. “shit—sorry, sweetness, you just make me feel so fuckin’ good..”

matt notices how you’re starting to gag and choke more and more, and he knows you probably need some reassurance. “you’re good, sweet girl, just breathe through your nose. not much longer, baby, i’m so close.”

you hum around him again, the vibrations sending a shiver up his spine and into the back of his throat, where a groan comes out. tears streak down your face, and you’re sure your mascara’s got you looking like a damn raccoon. but, did you care? absolutely the hell not.

his hips start to stutter, and his breathing gets more ragged—that’s how you know he’s so close. you use your free hand to massage his balls and he whimpers. full on whimpers. holy shit. no way. no way that just came out of his mouth.

holy shit. your brain just short-circuited. completely malfunctioned. you didn’t know he could sound like that. but now that you do, you need to hear it again.

okay, stay calm. be normal. act like you didn’t just melt into a puddle. if you die right now, at least you’ll die knowing that noise exists.

god, that was so hot. wait, do you signal that to him? no. no, you keep that to yourself. you should not be this affected. but here you are. completely affected.

he sounds so pretty…is it bad that you want to keep making him sound like that? okay, now you have two missions. make him do that again. immediately. oh, and make him cum.

“fuckkk baby, i’m about to—shit—cum..” he groans, squeezing your hair in his hands even harder. you let out a soft, bashful moan around his cock, egging him on. he pushes himself down your throat one more powerful time before he pulls out. you stick out your tongue and his warm, white spurts of cum cover your lower face, some of it getting on your chest and some actually making it onto your tongue. and that’s when you catch it. another fucking whimper.

matt gawks at the sight of you. he uses his thumb to swipe the remainders into your mouth, not bothering to clean up the bits on your chest just yet.

your chest rises and falls, trying to catch your breath as you shift slightly, still kneeling between matt’s legs. your lips feel swollen, your face warm, and your heart is thumping so hard you’re sure he can hear it.

matt looks absolutely wrecked—head tilted back, eyes half-lidded, lips parted as he tries to process what just happened. but when he blinks down at you, his expression softens instantly.

“c’mere, baby,” he murmurs, reaching down to guide you up and onto his lap. his hands are so gentle, warm against your skin as he cradles your face and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. “you did so good. so, so good for me.”

your stomach twists at his words, a mix of pride and bashfulness settling in. you tuck your face into his neck, feeling his chest vibrate with a soft chuckle. “stop,” you mumble, voice small.

“what? i mean it,” he hums, rubbing slow circles on your back. “so perfect. felt so good, sweet girl.”

you don’t respond, just nuzzle further into him, feeling warm and safe in his arms. but then matt’s shifting, pressing another kiss to the top of your head before standing up with you still clinging to him.

“let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he says, carrying you towards the bathroom. you let out a small sound of protest, but he only grins, setting you down carefully before reaching to turn on the shower.

you’re shy, hesitating as you stand in front of him, but he just cups your face, tilting it up so you meet his gaze.

“you okay?” he asks softly.

you nod. “yeah. just…still kinda nervous.”

you weren’t sure as to why you were nervous. you just sucked him off for goodness sake. your brain works in odd ways, that’s for sure.

his lips twitch into a knowing smile before he leans in, kissing you sweetly. “nothing to be nervous about, sweets. just wanna take care of you.”

he steps into the shower first, holding a hand out for you to follow. the warm water cascades down as you step under the spray, sighing at the soothing sensation. matt keeps his touch light—running his hands over your arms, your shoulders, smoothing your hair back with such careful tenderness that your heart clenches.

he washes you with so much care, fingers massaging shampoo into your scalp, then gently rinsing it out. “feel okay?” he asks, and you nod, leaning into his touch.

“you’re so sweet,” you murmur, voice barely above the sound of the water.

matt tilts his head, smiling. “because you deserve it.”

your throat tightens, but before you can respond, he’s pressing a kiss to your shoulder, whispering against your skin, “so proud of you, pretty girl. you’re everything to me.”

you close your eyes, letting yourself melt into his touch, into his words, into him.

“guess my tattoos aren’t the only thing you’ve got a taste for now, hm?”

a/n: omg i’ve wanted to write this for so long. i loooove matt’s tattoos and i love this song so i had to!!! thanks to @hearts4werka for supporting my idea and @strnilolover for proofreading 😌

tags: @sturniolo04 @admeliora94 @alexturnersgooch @snuffbut @frattboychris @marrykisskilled @mqttittude @purpledragon222 @aubsloveschris @slctsblogana @emely9274 @oliviasthatgirl @conspiracy-ash @matthewsroses @pasteldreams @matts-wife