#thanks for the request and kind words anon 💕 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honeyslibrary · 6 months ago

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Stuck With Me | Quinn Hughes

Pairing; Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); Cursing, established relationship, kissing, idk what else. Only edited once.

Summary; Based on this request: "could you do a fic of reader feeling jealous and quinn being reassuring 💕tyy"

Word Count; 4.0k

Author’s note; This is not my best work at all, I'd probably rate it a 4/10 just because I didn't really flesh out the jealousy + the pacing is kind of rushed, but I'm tired of looking at it frankly. Possibly in the future I will go back and edit it and make it better. Thank you to the anon who requested this though, I hope you liked it at least a little bit. Also, it's not really mentioned, but Quinn is not drunk and is okay to drive home + Josh is Josh Norris, and Kaylee is just a character I made up, no one IRL. -Honey.

“You’re staring,” Josh comments, nonchalant as he leans closer to nudge your arm.

Startled, you tear your gaze away and take a long sip of your drink, using the glass as a shield. “I was not,” you mumble, trying to sound casual as you glance sideways at him.

Josh chuckles, the sound resonating just slightly over the music playing. “Sure,” he says, dragging out the word with a smirk that makes it clear he’s not buying your denial for a second.

You roll your eyes, letting out a sigh as you lean back against the cushioned booth. No matter how hard you try, your gaze betrays you, drifting back toward the pool table across the room. Your fingers tighten slightly around your glass as you watch Quinn and Kaylee, their heads tilted close as they laugh about something you can’t hear.

You met Kaylee earlier, when you and Quinn first arrived at the bar. She’d come over almost immediately, her tall frame poised with an effortless grace that made you feel small and slightly disheveled in comparison. She was gorgeous—model-gorgeous—with sleek, fiery red hair that fell perfectly over her shoulders and striking green eyes that seemed to gleam in the dim lighting.

And Quinn had lit up when he saw her.

“She’s just an old friend,” he’d said casually, his hand brushing your lower back as he introduced you. They’d gone to college together, apparently, and while she’d been nothing but kind and polite to you, there was something about the way she made him laugh that stuck with you. It was freer, lighter somehow, as if she knew a version of him you didn’t.

She did, actually.

You knew it was irrational. You knew that Quinn loved you, that he hadn’t seen her in years and that they were just catching up. But the jealousy crept in anyway, an unwelcome guest settling in your chest. It festered beneath your skin, bubbling hotter and more insistent with every glance and every laugh they shared over the pool table.

“You’re doing it again,” Josh observes, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Your head swivels back toward him, a guilty heat rushing to your face. “Doing what?” you ask defensively, though the slight waver in your voice betrays you.

Josh arches a brow, leaning back in his seat as he folds his arms. “Staring. Sulking. Probably plotting Kaylee’s downfall, if I had to guess.” His tone is teasing, and there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he studies you.

You groan, setting your empty glass down on the table with a soft thud. “I’m not sulking.”

“Uh-huh,” he replies, clearly unconvinced.

“And I'm not plotting anyone's downfall!” you insist, but your gaze betrays you once again, flicking back toward Quinn and Kaylee. She’s leaning over the pool table now, lining up a shot, and Quinn is watching her with an amused grin, his arms crossed as he leans casually against the edge.

Your chest tightens. You know it’s nothing. You know Quinn is yours, that he’s coming home with you tonight, but the nagging voice in the back of your mind refuses to let it go.

“I’m gonna go get another drink.” You don’t wait for Josh’s response, sliding out of the booth with your glass in hand. The hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter surround you as you weave through the crowded bar, bodies shifting just enough to let you pass. Your pulse feels louder in your ears than the bass thumping faintly from the overhead speakers.

When you reach the bar, you set your empty glass down with a quiet clink and take a seat on one of the worn barstools. The polished wood is sticky beneath your palms, and the faint scent of spilled beer and citrus lingers in the air.

You glance up, taking in the bartender, a guy with a mullet that somehow works on him, tattoos winding up his arms like intricate stories inked into his skin. He’s busy, sliding a tray of colorful cocktails across the counter to a group of friends celebrating a bachelorette party. You lean on the counter, your gaze drifting to the mirrored shelves behind him, rows of liquor bottles glinting in the dim light like a kaleidoscope of temptation.

After a minute or two, he finally makes his way over to you, wiping his hands on a rag tucked into his waistband. “What can I get you?” he asks, his tone brisk but not unfriendly.

“I’ll just get a Jack and Coke, thanks,” you say, offering the bartender a polite smile. As he reaches for a glass, you lean slightly over the counter, your voice carrying just enough over the ambient noise of the bar. “And my boyfriend has a tab. Last name’s Hughes—put it on there, please.”

The bartender pauses for a moment, giving you a quick once-over before nodding. “Got it,” he says, turning toward the shelves with practiced ease.

You settle back onto the stool, your fingers tracing idle patterns on the sticky wood of the countertop as you glance around. Behind the bar, the bartender moves quickly, grabbing a tumbler and dropping in a few cubes of ice before reaching for the Jack Daniel’s. His movements are efficient, the kind that come from muscle memory, and within moments, the golden liquid pours into the glass, followed by a splash of Coke.

It’s a simple drink, nothing fancy or fussy, but that’s what you like about it—consistent, reliable, no surprises.

He sets the drink in front of you with a small napkin, the condensation already starting to bead on the sides of the glass. “There you go,” he says, glancing briefly in your direction before moving on to the next customer.

“Thanks,” you reply, wrapping your fingers around the cool glass.

Taking a sip, the familiar blend of sweet Coke and smoky whiskey slides down smoothly, the warmth spreading through your chest. It’s exactly what you need—not too strong, not too complicated. Just enough to ground you as you try to push away the nagging thoughts that have been buzzing at the back of your mind all evening.

Sliding off the barstool, you clutch your drink in one hand and begin making your way back to the booth you’d claimed earlier, until your body collides with something—someone—firm and unyielding. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as you stumble back, your drink sloshing out of the glass and soaking into your white top. The cold liquid clings to your skin, staining the fabric a disgusting, murky brown.

“Shit, sorry,” the guy mutters immediately, his voice filled with genuine regret. He moves quickly, grabbing a handful of napkins from the bar behind you. “Here, let me—”

He leans forward, attempting to dab at your shirt with the wad of napkins. His well-meaning gesture only amplifies your frustration, the awkwardness of the situation making your cheeks flush. You set your now-empty glass on the nearest surface with a loud clink and grab the napkins from him.

“It’s fine,” you say, your voice clipped as you step back. “Thanks, I got it.”

You don’t wait for a response, brushing past him and heading toward the bathrooms. Your pulse pounds in your ears, a mix of embarrassment and irritation settling in your chest.

Pushing the door open, you’re relieved to find the women’s bathroom empty. The faint hum of fluorescent lights fills the silence as you approach the sink. With a deep sigh, you wet the bottom of your shirt under the cold stream of water, scrubbing at the stain with a dollop of foamy soap from the dispenser.

The dark blotch stubbornly clings to the fabric, refusing to disappear entirely. You scrub harder, the rough texture of the paper towels adding to your frustration. After a few minutes, the stain fades slightly, the color no longer as glaring as before.

You toss the soggy paper towels into the trash with a sigh of defeat, inspecting the faint brown shadow that still mars your top. “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, resigning yourself to your less-than-pristine appearance. Moving to the hand dryer, you press the button and hold your shirt away from your body, letting the warm blast of air dry the damp fabric.

You let the hand dryer hum for another minute, the hot air doing its best to dry the wet fabric of your shirt. It’s still slightly damp when you decide to give up and leave the bathroom. The faint shadow of the stain remains, but you’ve done all you can. With a sigh, you smooth the fabric down and push the door open, exiting into the social minefield.

As you make your way back to the booth, the familiar knot of unease tightens in your stomach. It’s not just Josh at the booth anymore. The entire group is back now, including Quinn—and Kaylee, of course. They’re sitting next to each other, laughing softly at something, their heads tilted just close enough to make your chest tighten uncomfortably. Because of course they’re next to each other. Of course.

The frustration you’ve been trying to tamp down flares up again, prickling hot under your skin. You glance away, your eyes threatening to roll before you can stop them. But it’s as if Quinn has some sixth sense for your mood, because the second you look back, his gaze locks onto yours.

He smiles at first, the kind of warm, easy smile that usually makes your heart flutter. But then his eyes drop to your shirt, the faint stain still visible against the white fabric, and his expression shifts to one of confusion.

“What happened to your shirt?” he asks, his voice cutting through the chatter as he abandons his conversation. He slides a little further into the booth, making room for you to take your usual seat on the end.

You approach the table, sitting down a little harder than you intended. The irritation bubbling beneath the surface sharpens your tone, and when you finally respond, it comes out rougher than you’d meant. “What do you think happened?”

Quinn blinks, visibly taken aback by the edge in your voice. His eyebrows shoot up briefly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. The silence that follows feels heavy, the casual buzz of the bar suddenly too loud in contrast.

Quinn leans slightly closer, his voice softer now, careful, his breath hitting against your ear. "Are you okay?"

You exhale a long sigh, the weight of the evening pressing down on you as you lean into his side. The familiar warmth of his presence wraps around you, grounding you in a way that words can’t. “I’m fine,” you murmur softly. “Sorry for snapping at you.”

Quinn doesn’t hesitate, his arm slipping casually over your shoulder as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He presses a kiss against your temple, his lips lingering against your skin for a brief moment.

“It’s okay,” he replies, his voice low, just for you to hear.

For the next little while, you sit in the booth, letting the conversation flow around you. Quinn dives back into catching up with his friends, his laughter easy and unguarded as he shares stories and memories you’re only half-listening to.

You chime in occasionally when someone calls your name, offering a small smile or a quick reply. But mostly, you let yourself fade into the background, content to simply exist beside Quinn. His arm remains draped over your shoulder, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against your arm.

“…double date, right?”

You only catch the tail end of the sentence, your mind still drifting when you feel Quinn give your shoulder a gentle squeeze. The touch pulls you back to the moment, your eyes blinking as you try to focus.

“Sorry, what?” you ask, glancing around the table.

The group erupts into light laughter, the kind that feels good-natured rather than mocking. Quinn leans in slightly, his smile soft but amused as he repeats himself. “A double date. You’d be down for that, right?”

“Oh, uh… sure,” you reply, nodding quickly before the words have fully sunk in. Your gaze shifts between the faces at the table, suddenly feeling as though you’ve missed an important detail. “With who?”

Quinn’s smile widens, and there’s a playful gleam in his eyes. “Kaylee,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Your mouth falls open slightly, caught completely off guard by the response. You blink, turning your attention to Kaylee, who’s sipping her drink with an easy grace. “You… have a boyfriend?” you manage to ask, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

Kaylee lets out a light, melodic giggle, setting her glass down on the table. “Soon-to-be fiancé,” she corrects, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. “At least, once he grows a pair and actually proposes.” She laughs again, shaking her head. “He’s working late tonight, so he couldn’t make it.”

Her words hit you like a freight train. Fiancé? Working late? You feel your stomach drop as the realization sinks in. All of your jealousy is baseless. Kaylee wasn’t flirting with Quinn; she wasn’t even remotely interested in him that way.

She had a boyfriend. Soon to be fiancé.

Heat creeps up your neck and into your cheeks, the embarrassment washing over you like a tidal wave. You manage a small smile, but inwardly, you’re cringing so hard you wish the ground would swallow you whole. "Yeah, that'd be fun, for sure."

The next couple of hours fly by in a blur, and before you know it, everyone is saying their goodbyes, exchanging hugs and promises to meet up again soon. The warm glow of the bar’s lights spills out onto the sidewalk as you and Quinn step outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin.

It’s dark now, and a light drizzle begins to fall, the raindrops cool and soft as they dot your clothes. You glance at each other and break into a jog toward the car. By the time you reach it, the rain has picked up, turning from a drizzle into a steady downpour. You barely make it inside before the skies seem to open up, the sound of rain pelting against the roof filling the silence as Quinn starts the engine.

“Well, that was close,” he mutters with a small laugh, brushing the dampness from his sleeves before backing out of the parking spot.

The car is warm, the faint scent of Quinn’s cologne lingering in the air as he drives through the quiet streets. A few minutes pass in comfortable silence, the rhythmic drumming of the rain against the windshield almost hypnotic.

Then, his voice cuts through the quiet. “What was up tonight? You were quieter than usual.”

The question catches you off guard, but you quickly shake your head, hoping to dismiss it. “Nothing,” you say.

Quinn glances at you briefly, his expression skeptical even as he keeps his focus on the road. “I know you,” he says evenly. “And I know it’s not nothing, so just tell me.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you turn to look out the window. The rain blurs the city lights into streaks of gold and white, a beautiful distraction from the conversation you’d rather not have. “Quinn, I’m serious. It’s nothing,” you insist, your voice firmer this time.

He presses his lips together, his jaw tightening slightly. “Was it something I did?” he asks after a moment, his voice softer now, tinged with concern.

“No,” you reply quickly, shaking your head.

“Then what is it?” he presses again, his tone patient but persistent.

Your chest tightens, the question hanging in the air between you. It’s not that you don’t want to tell him—it’s just that you don’t even know how to put your feelings into words. The jealousy, the self-doubt, the small spiral you’d gone through earlier tonight—it all feels so petty now, so insignificant in hindsight. And yet, the weight of it still lingers, sitting heavy in the pit of your stomach.

You sigh, leaning your head against the cool glass of the window. "Just drop it."

At your words, Quinn pulls the car onto a quiet side street, the tires crunching over loose gravel before coming to a halt. He shifts the gear into park with a resolute click, his jaw tightening.

You turn to him, eyebrows furrowed. “What are you doing?” you demand, your voice edged with confusion.

He leans back in his seat, shrugging nonchalantly, though his eyes betray his concern. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Quinn, I told you—it’s nothing,” you snap, the irritation bubbling to the surface. Your arms cross tightly over your chest, a defensive shield against his relentless prodding.

He shakes his head, undeterred. “And I know you’re lying.”

A frustrated sigh escapes you, sharp and heavy. “You know what? Fine.” You unbuckle your seatbelt with a jerky motion, the click echoing in the small space. “I’ll walk home.”

Before Quinn can respond, you fling the door open and step into the storm. The frigid rain pelts down, soaking through your clothes almost instantly. The dirt road beneath your feet churns into sticky mud, clinging to your shoes as you march away, your defiance burning hotter than the cold seeping into your skin.

“Y/N!” Quinn shouts from the car, his voice cutting through the rain like a lifeline you refuse to grab. When you don’t stop, he curses under his breath. You hear the unmistakable sound of his seatbelt unclicking and the slam of his door.

The rain muffles his footsteps, but you know he’s chasing after you. “Y/N, wait!” he calls, urgency threading through his voice. You don’t slow, your pace quickening despite the mud threatening to pull you down.

“Y/N!” Quinn’s voice grows closer, and you finally halt, spinning around with enough force to startle him. He skids to a stop, but momentum carries him forward, and he stumbles into you. His hands instinctively reach out, gripping your arms to steady you both.

“You want to know what’s wrong, Quinn?” you snap, your voice trembling with more than just the chill. Rain streaks down your face, mingling with the tears you can no longer hide. “I’m embarrassed, okay?”

His hands drop, and for a moment, he just looks at you, water dripping from his lashes and the ends of his messy hair. “Embarrassed?” he repeats, his voice soft, almost incredulous.

You wipe at your eyes with a trembling hand, though the rain makes the gesture futile. “Yeah, embarrassed,” you admit, your voice barely audible over the steady drumming of rain. You look down, unable to meet his eyes. “I thought Kaylee had a thing for you.”

Quinn blinks, clearly taken aback. “I—you what?” he stammers, his brows knitting together in confusion.

You sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself against the cold rain. “I thought she liked you,” you repeat, more firmly this time, though the words still sting as they leave your mouth. “But she has a boyfriend, so obviously she doesn’t.”

“She’s just a friend from college,” Quinn says, his voice steady, as if the explanation should settle everything.

You nod, but it feels hollow. “I know.”

“And even if she was single,” he continues, stepping closer, “I’m not.”

His words make you glance up despite yourself. The weight in his gaze pins you in place, your breath catching in your throat.

“I have a girlfriend,” he says, his tone softening but no less resolute. “A girlfriend who makes me chase after her in a rainstorm in the middle of the night.”

The corners of his lips tug upward into a faint smile, though there’s no mistaking the seriousness in his eyes. Your heart twists at the realization—you’d been so caught up in your own doubts that you hadn’t stopped to consider how much he’d already chosen you.

The rain pours around you, but the world seems to shrink to just the two of you. For a moment, neither of you speaks. His words hang in the air, heavy with meaning.

“Quinn—” Your voice falters. You search for the right thing to say, something that can express the tangle of emotions inside you. Embarrassment. Relief. Gratitude. "I usually never get jealous like this. I'm sorry."

Quinn’s expression softens as he reaches up, his fingers gently brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The rain pelts in a steady, rhythmic drizzle around you, the droplets catching the light from the streetlamp above, creating a soft halo that bathes you both in a muted glow. He smiles, not in the least bit fazed, his eyes warm and reassuring.

"It's okay," he says simply, as if it's no big deal, his tone so calm, so easy, that it almost makes you feel like your jealousy was nothing at all.

"Quinn, I'm serious," you say, your brows knitting together as you try to convey just how sorry you truly were.

"Baby, it’s okay," he repeats, his voice low and full of understanding. "We all get jealous sometimes," he continues, his fingers now gently brushing your cheek, his thumb softly caressing your skin as if he’s trying to soothe away the tension. "I just ask that next time, you talk to me about it, okay? I want to know how you're feeling."

His words are earnest, leaving no room for doubt. He’s not upset, just asking for honesty—asking for you to trust him with those feelings. And that, more than anything, makes your heart soften.

You nod, the weight of your earlier emotions starting to ease. "I will," you promise, your voice barely above a whisper.

Quinn’s smile deepens, a mixture of relief and affection in his eyes as he gazes down at you. He reaches out, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing softly over your damp cheeks, wiping away the raindrops that have begun to cling to your skin. Then, without another word, he leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss.

The world around you seems to fade as his mouth moves against yours, slow and passionate, his lips warm and soft despite the chill of the rain. The kiss is intense, full of emotion, as if he’s pouring everything he feels into it—the reassurance, the love, the unspoken promise that he’s here for you, and only you. Your arms find their way around his neck, pulling him closer, and in that moment, the jealousy, the embarrassment—it all melts away, washed clean by the feeling of his lips on yours.

The rain continues to fall, droplets dancing off the pavement, but all you can feel is him—the solid warmth of his body against yours, the softness of his hands cradling your face. The streetlight above flickers softly, casting the two of you in a golden glow, making the moment feel like something out of a dream, something ethereal and untouchable.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests gently against yours, and for a moment, you just stand there, catching your breath, your hearts beating in sync.

Quinn looks into your eyes, his gaze steady and full of love. "And for the record," he says, his voice low and serious but with a teasing lilt at the end, "I don’t want anyone else. You’re stuck with me, okay? Deal with it."

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes your lips, the tension fully gone now, replaced by warmth and affection. The way he says it—so matter-of-fact, so confident—makes your heart swell. You shake your head, smiling as you look up at him, the rain continuing to fall around you both, but in this moment, you’re completely lost in each other.

"I love you," you whisper, your fingers threading through the damp hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down for another kiss, this one softer but just as full of meaning.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you

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qqhez · 6 months ago

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Hiiii! :))

This is kinda one of my first times requesting, so I don't know if I'll do this right, so please bare with me 🙏😞

Since you're asking for requests, I thought about a fem!reader x Hwang In-Ho smut one shot? I don't know if you're willing to do aus, but maaaybe a professor!Hwang In-Ho x student!reader au (legal ofc) where the reader is in love with his professor and thinks he doesn't know (he has heard her talk with her friends before) because she's well behaved and all of these things (the professor definitely knows, he just finds it cute and she's much younger). He isn't giving any signs of liking her back, so she thinks he's oblivious (she's grateful for that), till the final day of classes where the professor is giving the final grades, and she got the best of the class, so he manages to give her grades to her the last, keeping them alone in the classroom? And then confessions and smut ensues?

You can change it to your liking, sorry if I wrote too much :')

TYSM IN ADVANCE 💕💕

-🪐 anon (since now)

OMG THIS IS AN AMAZINGGG IDEA THANK YOU SM 🪐 I LOVE YOU❤️❤️

TEACHERS PET // HWANG IN-HO

Pairing: student!reader x teacher!Hwang In-Ho

Warnings: smut so 18+, teacher x student, no protection (I forgor), praising, lowk ddlg idfk, huge age gap, creampie, ig thats it?

An: shiiiii im sorry if this feels really rushed🙁 school just started again and I’m so tired😪 pls enjoy🙏 also omg I watched Bungee Jumping Of Their Own today and I cried so much :(

In school everyone knew you as the kind and well behaving girl. All the teachers liked you and you were top of your class. But between your friends you were known for having a crush on your teacher. All of your friends knew about it, because you cant keep your mouth shut. But what can you do when your teacher is hot as hell and just soo dreamy. In fact you spent many classes just dreaming about him and not getting any work done.

Right after the bell rings, In-ho’s students slowly arrive in his classroom. He’s usually at the door greeting the students, and of course looking for his favourite student who is of course you. He tried not to smile at you as you walked in and sat with your friends. And of course, again, you spent the whole class just looking at him.

At the end of the class he got up and said to the whole class, “I’m really glad that I got to teach you all this year. Now I’ll give you all your final tests back. When you hear your name, come here for a moment and after that you’re free to leave.” You were sat at the very back of the classroom with your friends. You actually wanted to sit at the very front, so you could be close to In-Ho, but your friends dragged you to the back.

Finally, he called your name. You were the very last one in the room. You quickly got up and walked over to his desk. “Here. Good job.” In-Ho said as he handed the paper to you. He watched you smile, when you saw that you got the best grade possible. “You’re my top student.” He told you, as he got up and gave you a little pat on the shoulder. Right when you’re about to thank him, he interrupts you. “I need to talk to you about something”

As you heard those words leave his mouth, it felt like your heart skipped a beat. ‘Is this it? Does he like me?’ Were the only things in your mind. For three years, you had been giving him signs that you were really in love with him. But you never got anything back from him, until now.

“I’ve heard what you’ve said about me to your friends.” He said with a grin on his face. “Oh! Sir I’m so sorry-” you manage to say before he interrupts you again. “It’s okay. I have those feelings towards you too.” He said and stood up from his chair and taking a step closer to you. He lifted your chin up with his fingers and looked lovingly in your eyes. You hesitated for a moment but still crashed your lips together with him. You started to make out on his desk.

You made out for some time and slowly, you pulled away from him even though it was really difficult. “What if Someone catches us?”you asked while you were still holding his face in your hands. “Look.” He pointed at the clock. “You’re not my student anymore, so it’s okay.” He reassured you. ”you still wanna do this?“ he asked, playing his hands on your hips. You looked in his eyes and said ”Yes.”

He pulled you by your hips and turned you around, so that now you were bending over his desk. He put most of his weight on you so you couldn’t get away from him and slowly kissed you down from your neck to your thighs. This was easy for him, because you usually wore a skirt to school, or at least in the summer. When he lifted your skirt up to reveal your panties, a small ‘aww’ left his mouth, when he saw the cute pink panties you were wearing.

“My god.. you’re soaking wet! You really want me this bad?”

You tried to hide your face from all this embarrassment. “Mmmmhm” was all you could let out. You couldn’t even think about what’s gonna happen next, when your panties were pulled down and his fingers were inside of you. You couldn’t help but moan. “Shhhh.. it’s okay…” he whispered while coming up to kiss your neck again.

He pulled his fingers out of you, so that he could unbuckle his belt and pull his pants down. Few seconds without his fingers got you all whiny and desperate to feel him again. “Are you ready?” He said while stroking his cock a few times, even though it was hard already. “Yes.. please, be gentle..” you whined as he began to spread your folds.

He managed to only get the tip in, and you were already a moaning mess. He made sure he was being really gentle with you and always checking that you were okay. “Good girl. You’re doing so good.” He praised you as he started thrusting into you harder.

You kept gripping on the papers on his desk as you came closer to your orgasm. The way he was grunting and letting out small moans made you sure that he was close too. “Mm im gonna come-” he grunted in your ear as he sped up his thrusts. And that was it. You both came at the same time.

He waited for a small moment and before he pulled out,he kissed you on the lips again. ”my baby, you did so good. Tomorrow at the same time?” He asked as you pulled your panties back up. “That’s a deal.”you said and kissed him again.

#hwang in ho #lee byung hun #smut #teacher x student #squid game #front man #bungee jumping of their own #teacher crush #player 001 #fluff #18+ mdni #writing #fanfic #fiction #fic writing

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1d1195 · 2 months ago

Text

Screens III

Read Screens I and Screens II here first | ~3.5k words

From me: Got a request not to long ago about this one 💕 as always please thank my sweet 🪁-anon. I haven't heard from them in a while, but the story wouldn't be around if it weren't for them.

Warnings: angsty comfort, mentions of hospitals and eye surgery

Summary: Harry is unbelievably patient with his favorite patient after surgery. She is grumpy and tired. She feels bad for being mean to Harry but he doesn't mind in the slightest.

“It’s going to ruin our entire summer break,” she frowned.

“S’not, my love,” he sighed. “The healing time is upwards of eight weeks—”

“Months.”

He ignored her. “—but the doctor said y’can resume your normal activities after a week,” he shook his head. “I know it is a lot of months, kitten,” he agreed. She was sitting on the sofa and Harry crouched in front of her, cupped her pretty face and smiled. Gently, he skimmed his thumbs beneath the rim of her glasses admiring her gorgeous face. “But s’not going t’be the bad recovery that entire time. Y’can read and we can watch TV like normal after a couple days,” he reminded her. He kissed her forehead. “We’ll still be able t’go to the beach take walks, everything we usually do in the summer,” he assured her. “Y’take such good care of your eyes as is, kitten. S’jus’ a few days t’let me wait on you. S’that so bad?”

“Yes,” she looked away from him, his gaze felt too warm, and he was going to make her cave. She would agree to anything staring into the prettiest eyes known to man. “You shouldn’t have to wait on me.”

“S’my favorite thing t’do, angel. If you would jus’ let me,” he rolled his eyes. She sighed and looked away.

“Are you scared?” He murmured. She didn’t answer but he watched the small twitch of her lip like she was trying to hold back the cry she wanted to let out. He decided to tell her first. “M’scared,” he nodded. “M’favorite person in surgery?” He grabbed her hand and twisted the diamond on her left ring finger. “It’s scary,” he whispered, agreeing with his own statement. She wiped her cheek before he could. He held the side of her face with his other hand again and brushed it on her cheek. “Wouldn’t you be scared if I had t’get surgery?” She nodded. Still not answering. Harry watched the way she swallowed trying to hold her tears back. “I want t’take care of you, kitten. S’gonna be in our vows so y’may as well let it happen,” he kissed her temple. “It’ll be fine,” he sounded so sure. So confident. That she wasn’t going to be a pain and make him miserable.

The date was set, and it felt like a looming black hole. But Harry was as reassuring as he could be. She was utterly nervous. It was obvious and Harry tried to make her feel better. But all she could think about was complications. They told her it wouldn’t get worse, but she didn’t believe she had that kind of luck. What if it did get worse? What if she couldn’t see this beautiful home she and Harry moved into last summer? What if she couldn’t see Harry’s gorgeous eyes? Or the pretty engagement ring he gave her when they were unpacking the kitchen boxes when they moved in? She was all sweaty and gross and he proposed to her anyway and the ring was so stunning it was a beautiful reminder of how much she loved him and it was horrible to think she wouldn’t get to admire it ever again. What if she never saw his sweet smile after surgery? Those pretty dimples that made her blush? What if she couldn’t see his tattoos? Or their future kids? Or—

She shook her head the tears filling her already blurred vision. Harry moved toward her, crowding her on the couch. He tucked her toward his body and rested his chin on the top of her head and let her little sniffles resume. Her tears fell on his shirt for a few moments while he let her grieve and feel sad. “How do you have so much hope?” She croaked.

“Because y’need me too,” he had a smile in his voice. “When m’overwhelmed at work y’always make me tea and rub my shoulders. Y’help me grade and pick up the slack around here that I can’t handle.”

“This is so much more than that.”

“No s’not, angel. S’jus’ me picking up the slack,” he assured her. “S’going t’be fine. If I have to learn t’be an eye surgeon myself t’fix you, I will,” he promised.

Her heart fluttered and she nosed at his chest. “I don’t know who in the universe thought to put us together, Harry, but I’m glad they did.”

“Hey beautiful,” his sweet voice was close to her and she could make out the feel of his fingers on her hand slowly creeping up the length of her arm. “Y’did a good job, angel, so I hear,” she could feel his breath on her cheek as he spoke. He kissed her forehead. “Y’okay?” He asked.

She nodded, afraid to use her voice. Scared to know if it worked or not. She was going to keep the eye patches on for as long as possible. “M’tired,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed and gave her hand a squeeze. “Can I put this back on?” The question wasn’t directed to her his voice bounced off the wall further away from him.

“Oh of course,” the nurse answered. “It’s a beautiful ring, love.”

She felt herself blushing. As one of the first things Harry wanted to do upon seeing her awake from surgery, it made her feel warm all over that he loved her so much that he wanted the engagement ring on her finger again as soon as possible. She felt Harry carefully slide it back into it’s rightful place and he gave her ring finger several kisses along the length of it. Her heart skipped a beat. It felt like he was proposing to her all over again. He chuckled softly, not missing a beat as he answered the nurse. “Had t’match the girl,” she knew he was winking at her. Even if she couldn’t see it.

The emotion got caught in her throat. “Am I allowed to cry?” She asked suddenly.

Harry went very quiet, his light laughter dying on the spot. Still, his hand squeezed her hand again, assuring her he was there. Even if she wanted to cry. Because he loved her so much. Even if she was blind. He rotated the diamond around her finger. “Yes, of course. It’s natural, and it’ll actually help keep your eyes lubricated,” she answered.

She turned her head away from the direction of Harry’s voice and let the tears leak out. “M’tired,” she repeated.

“Sure, angel, go to sleep,” he whispered and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be here,” he promised.

Harry was such a trooper. He asked her doctors and nurses a little more than one million questions before she was discharged. She swore he was taking notes as they answered each one. If there was a precaution to take, Harry wasn’t going to take it lightly. Everything was going to be done properly and perfectly because Harry would make sure of it because nothing was more important than her health and well-being.

The poor thing knew she was being a bitch. There was no other way to describe her behavior. She snapped when he tried to hold her close and walk her up the steps to their house. Snapped when he took too long to get to her side. It was so unfair to him, and she couldn’t stop the frustration in her voice.

On top of that, she wore the bandages anyway. She hadn’t opened her eyes once unless the doctor needed to check them because she was too scared—her vision was beyond blurry when she did. They said everything looked fine and it would get better in a few hours. Everything went as expected. But she just didn’t want to believe it. It was the hope that would kill her.

Everything would remain a bit blurry for the first few days of recovery whether she wore her glasses or not so she figured she would leave the bandages in place. Not being able to see would be easier than the alternative. Harry let her wallow in self-pity because he was too kind.

In fact, he didn’t even register her frustration. He spoke to her so kindly and sweetly the entire time. Like he always did. He didn’t care that she was grumpy. Just took her pain and anxiety and ignored her crummy attitude. The biting tone didn’t affect him in the slightest and she would probably never forgive herself for being so rude to an angel like Harry.

“D’you want something t’eat, kitten?” He asked after settling her on the couch and draping a blank across her body. He kissed her forehead and headed away, his quiet footsteps moving toward their kitchen.

“No,” she muttered. Her stomach still felt queasy from the anesthesia.

“Not even some soup?”

“No.”

“Okay, let me know if y’change your mind,” he sounded so casual about it. As if she was bitch to him all the time. It hurt her heart. She took a deep breath and tilted her neck. If she could see, she would be staring at the ceiling. She placed her arm over her eyes. “Don’t do that, my love. You’re not supposed t’rub them, angel,” his voice was gentle, and he brought her a cup of tea. He crouched in front of her, the volume and pitch of his voice shifting as he got closer to her. Just like he had when he told her it would all be okay a few short days ago. Gently, he coaxed her arm off her face.

She sighed heavily and removed her arm with a huff. Harry again, didn’t mind her attitude. He rubbed her arm instead as it laid beside her. She was grumpy once more. “Can you just go away?” Her voice cracked. “Please? I just want to be alone.”

“No,” he shrugged simply. She didn’t need to see to know he was smiling so very kindly at her.

She swallowed and felt the sob break out of her before she could stop it.

Harry looked at her with pity, even with bandages covering her eyes, she knew it. She could feel it. Even if she had them off with her blurry vision, she would be able to see it. He reached forward, combed her hair back a bit behind her ear and kissed her softly on the forehead. “S’okay, baby. S’okay,” he promised. She didn’t think it was, but she couldn’t help but feel comforted by Harry’s sweetness anyway. “Just relax, kitten. M’not going anywhere,” he assured her, shifting her so he could sit beside her and let her sob her heart and eyes out until she was content. “M’sorry, angel. M’so sorry,” he murmured into her hair, squeezing her gently to his side, and rubbing her hip like it was his fault she was in a bad mood.

Why he still wanted to marry her she would never understand.

Waking up unable to see was a bit jarring to say the least. For a brief moment she really thought she was blind. She forgot the bandages over her eyes. The feel of Harry’s hand skimming up and down her arm was comforting but made her anxious despite how nice it was.

“Good morning, my love. How did y’sleep?”

“Fine,” she mumbled.

She wasn’t in pain. She didn’t really remember much of her sleep. Harry’s voice was above her, her back pressed to him. It took her a moment to realize she was on the sofa. Harry had her laying along the length of him. She sat up carefully, her head spinning a bit. “Are y’in any pain, kitten?” He asked.

She shook her head. She wasn’t. Her eyes were just very dark because of the bandages.

“Do y’want t’take the bandages off now, angel?”

She shook her head again. “No thank you.”

Poor Harry. She wondered if he was getting tired of her bullshit. That’s what it was really. Her being a sulking brat.

“Alright, then c’mon, love,” he encouraged gently. “Y’always feel better after a shower.”

“I can’t wash my hair,” she grumbled. “I can’t get soap in my eyes.”

“I have a plan for that, angel, c’mon,” he repeated and coaxed her to stand. “M’not trying t’force you, m’just asking again since you’re going t’shower... do y’want to take the bandages off?” He murmured.

She shook her head.

“Alright,” he shrugged and guided her toward the bathroom. “Do y’want t’undress yourself, or do y’want me to do it?” She looked away even though the emotion in her eyes was guarded by the bandages. The tremble in her lip must have given her away. “You’re breaking m’heart, kitten,” he mumbled as he slid her sweats down her legs. He knelt in front of her, rubbing his hand on the outside of her right knee and he placed a kiss to the center of her thigh. “Hold on to m’shoulder, love, while y’step out of your pants, I don’t want you t’fall.”

She listened to him. The ache in her throat felt so strong she wanted to burst into tears again. He lifted her foot and she felt like the strangest but most precious princess as he helped her out of her clothes. “M’gonna do your shirt now,” he warned and lifted the hem from her hips. He kept his hands inside the collar of it and pushed it away from her face as he moved it over her head. “D’you want t’get in on your own or do you want me t’join?”

It was kind of him to give her options even though she’d been extremely uncooperative. Poor Harry was serious when he said he would be happy to wait on her, but she didn’t think he had anticipated just how sour her mood was going to be. He was endlessly patient, and it had hardly been a day. With no answer, he kissed her temple and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “M’gonna let you do your thing, love. Jus’ watch your eyes. M’gonna deal with your hair, so just wash your pretty body, yeah? Shout if y’need something kitten. M’gonna sit right outside the door,” he pressed a kiss to the side of her head and then she heard the soft click of the door shutting behind him.

It was probably for the best that he didn’t join her. It would just make her think about how unfair it was that she would never see his ridiculously hot body slathered in soap and water again.

She got herself sudsy and let the hot water burn into her achy muscles. She didn’t even do anything that warranted that soreness, but it felt like she had run a marathon. She avoided getting water in her eyes and her hair was only half wet by the time she felt she had used up most of the hot water. “Harry?” She asked softly once the water was off.

Instantly the door opened. “Feel any better?” He asked. She didn’t respond.

“Can I have my towel?”

Harry wrapped her in one of their big fluffy towels. It felt warm, soft, and now that she couldn’t see she felt even more aware of the feeling. He rubbed her arms gently and kissed her forehead. “Y’want to take the bandages off now?” He asked. She shook her head. “Okay, love. S’fine. C’mon,” he guided. She was obviously naked aside from her towel and Harry guided her toward the kitchen. “M’gonna sit you right here,” he told her and guided her to sit on the chair that was placed in front of their sink. “Y’warm enough, angel?” He asked.

She nodded.

“Be right back, kitten,” he kissed her forehead again.

Harry returned quickly. Quietly he hummed a tune in his head while he turned the water on. He cupped the back of her head and lifted her hair from behind her neck and over the ledge of the sink. “Such pretty hair, love,” he mumbled.

She wrapped the towel around her body a little tighter and tried not to think about how sweet he was being to her. His fingers were so gentle while he used the spray head to soak her hair. Her lip trembled again as he massaged her shampoo into her hair and scalp. “S’wrong, my love?” He frowned, unable to keep his worry out of his voice and no longer able to ignore how silently (but not really) upset she was.

“What if it’s worse?” Her voice cracked.

“Angel,” he frowned and brushed the water and suds back from her hairline. “S’not going t’be worse.”

“You don’t get it Harry,” she sniffled. “It’s been my whole life of bad eyesight. It’s just—”

“Let me take your bandages off, kitten.”

She shook her head. “No...I don’t want to know—”

“My love, jus’ let me try, please. I don’t want you t’be upset.”

She sniffled again. “You’re being so nice and I’m being such a bitch. You carried me, you’re washing my hair for god’s sake and—”

“Angel, I love you. This is nothing. You’re not being a bitch and m’sad you’re saying that about yourself,” there was a frown in his voice. But it was filled with love and adoration for her. “Please let me see your pretty eyes. I already miss them so much...”

She sobbed again and Harry cupped her cheek rubbing his thumb on her skin. “S’okay, love. S’okay,” he whispered. “M’jus’ gonna take these off slowly so I don’t pull your skin, yeah? You’re being so brave, and I know y’didn’t want t’do this. I know y’didn’t want t’try because you’re scared and you’re so brave, angel. You’re m’hero. Y’know that? Now will you open your pretty eyes, please? Want t’see the pretty color and get a good look at you.” She sniveled again and carefully pried her eyes open. Harry was blurry, but he was there. Handsome as ever. His deep dimples. His gorgeous green eyes. His soft skin.

She could see him. Clearly. As clear as possible without glasses. Even if the edges of her vision were still a bit blurry. It was obvious something had worked. Something was fixed.

She hadn’t expected that at all in the slightest.

“There she is,” he cooed rubbing his thumb beneath her eye. “How’s it looking, kitten?” Her nerves settled a bit, her tears slowed, her lip stopped wobbling as much. “Y’can see, huh?” He smiled, his dimple deepening. “M’happy for you, my love,” he went back to her hair stroking it and massaging her scalp. “Y’don’t have t’say it. M’proud of you,” and she could hardly breathe let alone speak. Harry was so nice and kind.

He continued humming. He ignored the tears that welled in her eyes, creating a pool since she was horizontal. He lathered her hair once more, massaging the product into her scalp and letting it rinse out. One hand rested protectively on her forehead making sure the water didn’t run astray. “Alright, my love, you’re all done,” he hummed and kissed the top of her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her lip still wobbling violently with the tears and sobs that were close behind her words.

“Y’have nothing t’be sorry for, kitten. You’re perfect,” he promised guiding her to stand and rubbing her toweled body gently. “Let’s get back t’bed.”

“Why did we sleep on the couch?” She asked.

“S’easier t’sleep us sitting up,” he shrugged.

“You slept sitting up because of me?” Her lower lip jutted out and she felt so overwhelmed it was embarrassing. The toll on her body between surgery and her sight was cause for an emotional catastrophe.

“S’no big deal,” he yawned. “Might take a cat nap though,” he shrugged and ushered her to sit on the bed. He helped her get dressed quickly, really milking it on her behalf.

“You can nap, I can...” she swallowed. “I’m sorry. I don’t need you to be treating me like I’m broken,” but she sniffled and cried as she spoke.

“M’not, angel. S’what m’supposed t’be doing. You’re my princess,” he reminded her. “M’jus’ gonna take a quick shower and then I’ll come back t’make your breakfast, s’that sound good?” He asked.

She nodded. “Harry?” She asked as he stepped away from the bed.

“Yeah, my love? What do you need?”

“You’re so beautiful,” she reached for his face, his cheek warmed under her hand. His smile grew and he looked at her shyly.

“Thank you, kitten. S’very sweet of you.”

“I’m sorry for being so mean,” her voice was air. “I shouldn’t do that when I’m madly in love with you.”

“Oh good, I was beginning t’worry,” he winked and pressed his lips to hers for a moment. “Be right back, angel. Shout if y’need something. Don’t worry if y’need my help or anything,” he reminded her.

“Harry,” she said softly again.

“Hmm?” He asked standing in the door, a smile on his face. “Need me already?”

Every minute of every day. All the time. “I love you,” she stated. “So much.”

“God, my love. The feeling is mutual.”

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zerosbubble · 2 months ago

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hey lovely! it's @nevereclipse (on anon cause side blog). I'm absolutely obsessed with your like father, like rookie series (anything you write with Tim is just chefs kiss). would you mind writing a story where Tim's rookie is really stressed about their six months exam? like perfectionism, either superrr stressed before hand or not happy with their mark afterwards, and Tim helps them/comforts them? love your work sm!

What You Don’t See Yet.

Tim Bradford x Rookie!reader [PLATONIC] — Ongoing series: Like Father, Like Rookie.

POV: Overwhelmed by the pressure to be perfect for your six-month evaluation, Tim Bradford sees through the cracks—and he won’t let you spiral. Through quiet guidance, firm words, and on-the-job moments, he helps you realize you’re more ready than you think.

A/N: Always a pleasure to hear from you, Eclipse! Thank you for the sweet message and request, this is adorable and I definitely enjoyed writing it! 💕

You hadn’t stopped moving since the start of shift. Not really.

Your nerves were like a second heartbeat—fast, insistent, relentless. Hands fidgeting with your vest straps. Pacing while waiting on call sheets. Tapping your pen against the desk during report writing until Tim’s eyes cut over with a sharp look that made your hand freeze mid-air.

But now, seated in the passenger seat of the shop, you couldn’t fake stillness anymore. Your knee bounced, leg jittering with a mind of its own like you were wired straight into a live socket.

Tim noticed. Of course he noticed.

“You gonna shake the whole damn shop apart, or what?” he asked, his voice even, calm—eyes still on the road.

You startled like you’d been caught stealing. “Sorry,” you muttered, forcing your leg to still. “Just… tired.”

Liar.

You could feel the word in his silence before he even said it.

“Bull.”

Your eyes flicked to him. “What?”

“I said bull,” he repeated, tone clipped. “You’ve been on edge all day. Don’t tell me it’s nothing.”

You tried to swallow the lump crawling up your throat. Looked out the window like the lights passing by might drown out your thoughts.

“It’s—it’s the six-month eval,” you finally said. Quiet.

Tim didn’t respond right away. Just flicked the turn signal, calm and composed, merging into a slower lane like he was waiting for you to keep going.

“And?”

You shifted in your seat, feeling every buckle and seam in your vest. “And, I need to crush it.”

He finally glanced at you—one of those looks. The kind that felt like floodlights cracking you open. Like he wasn’t just hearing you—he was reading between every damn word.

“Crush it,” he echoed, tone unreadable. “Why?”

You picked at a loose thread on your sleeve. “Because if I don’t, it proves everyone right. That I’m too young. That I’m not ready. That I don’t belong out here.”

Tim didn’t say anything.

Instead, he turned on his blinker and pulled the shop smoothly into a parking lot—quiet, mostly empty, lit by a flickering overhead light and the orange glow bleeding from a liquor store window.

The shop rolled to a stop. He put it in park. Killed the engine.

Silence.

You sat there, hands twisted in your lap.

Then Tim turned toward you fully, the weight of his posture shifting—shoulders squared, arms crossing in that solid, grounded way of his.

“You listen to me, and you listen good,” he said, tone hard but not harsh. “This job doesn’t give a damn how old you are. What it cares about is how you show up. And you? You show up. Every single day.”

You parted your lips, some excuse or protest waiting on your tongue, but he cut you off with a look.

“Do you make mistakes? Sure. So does everybody else. You think your eval needs to be perfect? It won’t be. Because you’re not perfect. And you don’t need to be.”

His words echoed in your chest like they were being carved into bone.

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered. “You’ve already proven yourself.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed slightly. His voice dropped an octave—deeper, more pointed.

“You think I didn’t bomb parts of my eval? You think I haven’t sat where you are, thinking if I messed it up, I’d never get taken seriously?”

You didn’t answer.

“You’re not here to be flawless,” he continued. “You’re here to learn. To grow. To take hits and keep moving. That’s what makes a good cop. That’s what makes you worth the badge.”

Your fingers curled around the hem of your shirt. They were trembling. Just a little. But enough.

Tim saw it.

He sighed, quieter this time. “You’re good, kid. Better than you think. And yeah, I’m hard on you. You know why?”

You nodded, voice small. “Because you want me to be ready?”

“No,” he said firmly. “Because you are ready. You just don’t see it yet.”

The words landed with a thud—solid and final. Like the earth settling beneath your feet.

You blinked, jaw clenched against the sudden sting behind your eyes.

Tim didn’t soften. Not visibly. But his hand reached over and patted your shoulder—firm, grounding, real. It wasn’t tender. It was steady.

“Now take a breath. Straighten up. We’re not done with shift, and I need you clearheaded.”

You nodded once. Shaky. Then again, stronger. “Yes, sir.”

His voice was gentler then, but just as sure. “Good. Let’s go.”

He started the engine again, shifting it into gear without fanfare. Just Bradford, making damn sure you knew your worth—even if he had to drill it into your head himself.

And the world kept turning—but slower now. Calmer.

You weren’t okay yet. Not fully.

But you believed him.

And that was enough to keep going.

Post-exam, though? Hit you like a brick with malicious intent.

The fluorescent lights of the precinct buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow across the bullpen. It was late—too late for how long you’d been sitting in front of your locker, still in uniform, still frozen.

You stared at the evaluation sheet in your hands. It had crumpled slightly from your grip, edges damp where your fingers had trembled. You read the feedback for what had to be the tenth time, the words blurring around the edges. Your chest was tight. Too tight.

“Satisfactory in judgment. Needs improvement under pressure.”

That line echoed over and over in your head, louder than the rustling papers, louder than the clacking keyboard a few desks away. It was all you could hear.

You blinked hard, throat aching. The scent of old coffee grounds lingered in the air. Someone had microwaved leftover pasta—again—but it didn’t even register.

You should’ve done better. You needed to do better.

Footsteps approached from behind—heavy, measured, and familiar. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Kid,” Tim’s voice was gruff, cutting through the spiral. “You planning on camping out here, or…?”

You didn’t answer.

Tim sighed, and the bench beside you creaked under his weight as he sat down. You kept your eyes on the paper, willing it to disappear, or change, or both.

“Talk to me,” he said.

Your throat closed up.

“I messed it up,” you murmured. “I should’ve scored higher. I knew the scenarios. I just—” You broke off, shaking your head. “Didn’t respond fast enough. Froze when it mattered.”

The paper in your hand felt heavier than it should’ve. The words were smudged a little near the corner from how tightly you’d been holding it—creased, sweat-softened, like it had been through war and back. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up just yet.

Tim’s gaze remained unreadable but steady. You felt it on you, the way you always did. Sharp. Grounding. Impossible to shake.

He glanced at the paper, then back at your face.

“You passed,” he said, voice calm, slow and deliberate—like it needed to be heard through the static in your head.

You scoffed before you could stop yourself. “I barely passed,” you bit out. “That’s not good enough. Not for this job.”

The words came fast, bitter, too familiar. You’d been saying them in your head all day. This was just the first time they slipped out loud.

A pause stretched between you. Not long. Just long enough to feel like the air had thickened.

Then Tim’s voice came, low but sharp—like the snap of a taut rope.

“Good enough for who?” he asked. “For Grey? For me?”

He remained sat next to you, his stance firm but not aggressive. “Because neither of us put barely on your report. You did that.”

Your mouth opened, then closed again. No words came. Just that lump in your throat—the same one that had been there since you got your results. It burned behind your ribs, a quiet kind of shame you couldn’t shake.

You looked down. Couldn’t meet his eyes.

He shifted slightly, not backing down.

“You want to be perfect. I get it. But that’s not the job. The job is making the call, learning from it, and staying alive to make the next one.”

The words scraped against the wall you’d built up all day. Slowly, brick by brick, they chipped it.

Your fingers clenched the paper again, crumpling it tighter in your grip.

“I just…” You swallowed hard. “I don’t want to mess up out there. I don’t want to get someone hurt. Or get you hurt.”

The admission cracked something open—soft, exposed. You hadn’t even realized it until it came out. But it was the truth.

The room went quiet. Not the awkward kind. The kind that settled around you like a pause before impact.

Tim didn’t move for a long second. Then his expression shifted—subtle, but real. The edge in his eyes softened. His voice lowered, not losing strength, but gaining something steadier. Warmer.

“You’re not going to,” he said. “Because you don’t quit. And because I’ve got your back.”

The words hit hard. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just… honest.

And that made them worse.

You blinked fast, vision blurring slightly.

A memory flashed—uninvited but vivid. Your first week on the job. Nervous energy riding high. You trailing too close behind him on a call, trying to prove you were sharp, fast, useful. And Tim yanking you back by your vest a second before a suspect swung wide with a pipe.

No shouting. No panic. Just that laser-focused look he’d fixed on you as you stood there stunned.

“You’re here to survive. Do that first.”

Back in the present, your breath hitched. The locker room blurred again at the edges.

Tim hadn’t looked away. He never did, not when it counted.

“Take the win, kid,” he said, voice a little softer now. “You passed. Not because you got lucky, but because you’re learning. Every damn day.”

You gave a slow nod, jaw tight, voice caught somewhere in your chest. You couldn’t speak—not yet. You weren’t sure if it’d come out steady if you tried.

Tim didn’t push. Just gave you a moment, then added, businesslike but not cold:

“I want you rested for tomorrow.”

You looked up, confused for a beat.

“Because I’m putting you behind the wheel for most of the shift,” he continued. “And I expect you to call the shots when it’s your turn.”

That made you blink. “Wait. Me? All day? You never let me drive—”

He gave a short nod, like the decision had already been made and he didn’t see the point in debating it.

“Best way to prove to yourself what I already know.” He got up, already facing toward the doorway, but his words lingered. “You can do this,” he said. “Even when your head says otherwise.”

Then he was gone—out the door and down the hall, leaving you in the low hum of fluorescent lights and the echo of his belief in you.

And for the first time all day, the paper in your hand didn’t feel so heavy.

The next morning started early—before the sun even had a chance to warm the streets of Los Angeles. A low fog lingered above the pavement, curling between squad cars in the lot like smoke that hadn’t cleared. You stood by your locker, already dressed, boots laced, vest snug. But your hands were trembling.

You could still feel yesterday in your bones.

That exam. The feedback. The way it made your stomach twist. And worst of all, the expression on Tim’s face when he told you “You passed”—firm, serious, but not the kind of praise you felt you deserved. He said you did well. Your brain told you he was just being nice. He wasn’t. He never was.

But logic and feelings never played fair.

You were zoning out again—thinking too hard—until a paper coffee cup appeared in your peripheral vision.

“Drink it,” Tim said, not waiting for a thanks as he walked past, heading for roll call.

You stared at the coffee for a second, then followed, hands finally steadying with the warmth of the cup in your grip.

The first call was routine—at first.

Dispute in a strip mall parking lot. You followed Tim’s lead, clipboard tucked under your arm as you approached the two arguing men. One was pacing, the other red-faced and shouting. You kept your tone calm, your posture open, repeating everything you’d been trained to do.

You were halfway through separating them when one of them threw a punch.

You didn’t freeze this time. Your reflexes were faster than your thoughts.

You ducked. Moved in. Grabbed his wrist, pivoted your body like you’d practiced in defensive tactics, and forced him back against the hood of a car, cuffing him with clean, practiced motions.

When it was over, your heart was pounding—but you weren’t spiraling.

You looked up and Tim was already watching you from across the lot, one hand on his belt, expression unreadable.

Back in the shop, after turning the guy over to another officer, Tim gave you a nod.

“Clean,” he said.

You blinked. “Clean?”

“Your takedown. No hesitation. No overcorrection.” He glanced over his shoulder at the commotion dying down. “That’s what I mean when I say you’re growing. You didn’t let your nerves get in the way of your instincts.”

Something about hearing it now, in the field, after doing it right—meant more than the score on your evaluation ever could.

You nodded slowly, your chest feeling lighter.

“Thanks, sir.”

Tim shrugged. “Don’t thank me. You’re the one who put in the work.”

The shift moved on. You responded to a stolen vehicle, a shoplifting call, and a welfare check. Each scene came with moments of doubt—split-second flashes of memory from your early weeks, moments you’d stumbled, fumbled, froze.

But you didn’t now.

You kept moving. You remembered Tim’s voice, his corrections, his dry sarcasm and steady calm.

And at every stop, he was just… there. Quietly guiding, standing just far enough to give you space, but close enough that if anything happened, he’d be in your corner in half a second flat.

It wasn’t until the last call—almost at end of shift—that the day gave you one final test.

A teenager had been reported missing, last seen leaving school.

You and Tim canvassed the area, checking alleyways and bus stops, when you spotted someone curled behind a dumpster. Thin frame, hoodie pulled low. You crouched, gentle voice easing the kid out, while your heart pounded in fear of what you might find.

She was okay. Scared, cold, but okay.

You offered her your jacket, spoke softly while you waited for her parents to arrive. Your words were careful, calm. Reassuring.

And Tim? He stood back and let you handle it.

You didn’t notice he was watching you like a hawk until it was all over.

Back in the shop, you slumped into the passenger seat, the door clicking shut behind you with a dull thunk. Your vest felt heavier than usual—like your body had only just remembered how tired it was now that the adrenaline was gone.

You rubbed your hands together, then dragged one down your face, the skin clammy with sweat and tension. Your chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, like your lungs were still catching up from the last call.

Tim didn’t speak at first. Just adjusted the rearview mirror with a practiced hand, his movements calm, deliberate. The cruiser’s engine hummed under you, warm air filtering through the vents, soft against your chilled skin.

Then, without looking over, he said, “I remember when that would’ve wrecked you.”

His voice wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t smug. Just matter-of-fact, grounded in something that felt like pride.

“When you would’ve stumbled over every sentence trying to talk to her.”

You let out a slow exhale, head tipping back against the seat. The hum of street noise outside dulled to a low murmur through the glass. “Yeah,” you said quietly.

You remembered too.

You remembered that first call with a DV victim—how your voice had caught in your throat, how your hands had trembled when you tried to take a statement, how you’d looked to Tim for backup not because the scene was dangerous, but because you didn’t trust yourself to get it right.

But today, it had been different. You’d moved with purpose. Spoken with clarity. You had looked her in the eyes and told her she wasn’t alone—and meant it. You’d navigated the entire scene without a single glance toward your T.O.

Tim didn’t say anything else. But his silence wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t the kind that made you second-guess yourself or fill the air with nervous chatter.

It was solid.

Like brick and mortar.

The silence of someone who had seen your worst days and never once backed away from them. The kind that said you did good, without needing to spell it out.

You turned your head slightly and caught his profile—jaw set, gaze steady on the windshield, one hand resting lightly on the gearshift. He didn’t look at you, but he didn’t need to.

It wasn’t just about passing the eval anymore.

It wasn’t even about the numbers on the report or the comments scribbled in the margins.

It was about every rough shift that came before this one. Every moment you thought you couldn’t keep up, every time you’d failed and come back anyway. It was about how you showed up today—not perfect, but prepared. Capable.

For the first time in a long time, you weren’t trying to convince anyone that you belonged.

You weren’t trying to convince him.

You were trying to convince yourself.

And in that quiet space between shift calls, in the warmth of the shop’s late afternoon light filtering through the windshield, something in you finally settled.

You believed it.

You belonged out here.

The precinct had thinned out by the time you returned. Most officers were already gone, the last rays of sun bleeding over the city like the world had exhaled a little. The bullpen was quiet, low-lit, with the hum of vending machines and distant radio chatter the only background noise.

You were at your locker, peeling off your vest, when Tim reappeared with two bottled waters and a couple of granola bars.

You stared at them, one brow arched. “This your version of a steak dinner?”

Tim leaned against the row of lockers beside you. “If you wanted a steak, you should’ve tackled a better suspect.”

A small, tired laugh left you before you could stop it. He cracked the faintest smile in return.

“Seriously though,” he said, tone dipping into something lower, more even, “you did good today.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Felt different. Like… I wasn’t constantly second-guessing every move.”

“That’s because you weren’t,” Tim said. “That wasn’t luck out there. That was training. Control. You let your instincts kick in because you trusted yourself.”

You looked down at your hands, flexed them once. “I think… part of me still doesn’t believe I passed.”

Tim’s voice was quiet but firm. “Then believe me.”

You looked at him.

He nodded once. “You’ve come farther than you realize. And I’m not gonna let you burn yourself out chasing some imaginary finish line.”

You blinked hard. “You really suck at pep talks.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, crossing his arms again, “you suck at eating lunch without being told.”

You smiled, warm and lopsided. “Touché.”

Tim reached out and ruffled your hair—not playfully, but with a certain worn fondness. Like someone used to watching over something fragile until it found its strength.

“Go home,” he said. “Get some rest. You earned it.”

You hesitated for a second. Then, softer: “Thanks, sir.”

He gave a single nod, eyes steady. “Anytime, Kid.”

And as you stepped out into the fading sun, boots heavy from the day but heart a little lighter, you realized something important:

You weren’t just surviving out here anymore.

You were growing.

And Tim had seen it before you ever could.

Taglist: @its-ares @nevereclipse @chezze-its @mcckunty @graciereads @gublerstylesobrien1238

#platonic #the rookie #fluff #found family #oneshot #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #angst

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minisugakoobies · 1 year ago

Text

Yours for the Night | HHJ

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plot, frenemies to lovers, Model!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: so. much. cockiness from Hyunjin, arguing as a form of foreplay, a bit of dumbification, what's a little fucking between frenemies?, dick pics, exhibitionism, nipple play, mentions of slut shaming, grinding, fingerfucking, pinching, just a tiny bit of spit, unexpected use of pet names, oral sex (f receiving), wet and messy, biting, dirty talk, maybe a little degradation (talking about reader being cock stupid), unprotected sex (bc used), riding/cowgirl style, praise/use of "good girl," soft dom!hyunjin vibes, rough/hard sex, multiple positions, creampie, multiple orgasms Word Count: 8.8k Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me Summary: “Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” Or, Hyunjin makes you an offer you simply can't refuse.

A/N: I finished this earlier than expected, thanks to the inspiration that is Hyunjin at Milan Fashion Week. Have you seen him?? 🥵 Anyway, it's all because of his stunning beauty that this filthy lil pwp exists. Enjoy! 😘

Unbeta'd as usual. I would *love* to hear your thoughts - my inbox is always open (anon is on, but hateful comments will be blocked. Be kind, writers do this for free and with love!) 💕

SKZ Masterlist 💜

It’s Friday night, you’re out for drinks with your friends, and you are frustrated.

It’s not the club that’s bothering you. You’re here tonight at Felix’s request. He’d told you all it had been too long since you’d gone out as a group, so all nine of you and your friends crammed yourselves into a couple of rides and headed for downtown.

Nor is it the incredibly tight, short, and backless dress you’ve poured yourself into that’s annoying you, though it’s certainly not helping. Your fingers anxiously grasp at the hem, tugging it down your thighs as you take a seat at the table where Felix and Seungmin are currently talking.

No, it’s something personal that has you wound tighter than a corset tonight. Work has been kicking your ass lately, and it’s put a huge damper on your sex life. You haven’t been out with anyone new in the last few months. Haven’t had any time to reach out to any of your small group of casual hookups who would typically lend a hand. Most nights you’ve even been too tired to masturbate.

Put simply, you’re ready to fucking pop.

Which is why you’re wearing this bodybinding dress and staring at the dance floor like a wildcat stalking its prey, searching to find someone to help you with your problem. Unfortunately, you’ve been here for hours, and no one’s caught your eye so far.

Your clutch rattles on the table, drawing your attention. Everyone who would usually text you is here, so out of curiosity, you take out your phone. The notification tells you that Hyunjin sent you a photo.

You glance across the room at where Hyunjin is sitting in a booth with Changbin, deep in conversation. Why would he send you a photo right now?

Your confusion only grows when you look at the photo. It’s a selfie, Hyunjin raising his champagne glass in a toast to the camera, perfectly tousled dark hair spilling over his brow as he fixes you with his signature smirk. It’s a gorgeous shot, of course, because he’s a gorgeous man, but again, why is he sending you selfies in the middle of tonight’s celebration? Or at all? Hyunjin’s never been the type to send you photos before, of himself or the group or anything.

He’s never really been the type to text you, period, outside of the group chat. Probably because the two of you aren’t really friends. Frenemies would be more accurate. You share the same group of friends, but have nothing else in common. Which is fine, you don’t have to be close to hang out, but he’s… well… he’s an acquired taste, and you’ve never developed an appreciation. Hyunjin’s snooty and cocky - overly so, in your opinion, even if he is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Most of your conversations consist of nothing but arguing. He’s very stubborn and loves to get the last word in on everything. Which drives you crazy because you prefer to have the final say.

So to say this sudden selfie has you perplexed is an understatement.

Ignoring whatever Felix and Seungmin are talking about, you fire off a question.

You: What is this? Hyunjin: Are you that drunk? It’s me

Reflexively, you scowl at your screen.

You: I know it’s you You: But WHY are you sending me a photo of yourself? Hyunjin: You’ve been staring at me all night Hyunjin: I thought maybe you’d like something to take home, to keep

Again, you look over, only to find him looking at you, lips curled to match his photo. Heat flames through you. Could he be more conceited?

Maybe the vanity isn’t totally unearned, considering that he’s an actual model, making a living using his ethereal beauty to sell products. His own lifestyle is just as luxurious as the images he appears in. Like right now, he’s wearing the finest black suit, obviously couture, with a few silver necklaces draped over his tie that you’ve no doubt cost more than your entire outfit alone.

And sure, he has a jawline carved by the gods, thick eyebrows that frame expressive, cat-like eyes, and ridiculously pouty lips that you’ve found yourself staring at once… an hour on average. Maybe in your weakest moments you’ve even dreamt about what it would be like to kiss those lips.

But does that mean he has to be a dick all the time?

You: You’re such an ass Hyunjin: Deny it all you want, but we both know you can’t keep your eyes off me Hyunjin: Not that I blame you You: It’s amazing your head still fits through doors Hyunjin: You’d be the first to notice if it didn’t

Your nostrils flare. No matter what you say, he always flips it back on you. Admittedly, you are a little tipsy, so you’re not fully on your game, but it’s still annoying as fuck. And right now, you really don’t need another reason to be frustrated.

You: Whatever, Hyunjinnie

You cast another glance at Hyunjin, delighting in the way he frowns at your response. He hates it when you call him that.

You take a moment to locate the rest of your friends. Changbin’s still sitting with Hyunjin. Jeongin and Chan are doing shots at the bar. Minho and Jisung are in their own little world on the dance floor, arms draped around one another. Neither Felix nor Seungmin seemed to have noticed that you have dropped out of their discussion. Part of you feels guilty for ignoring them, but, well, you’re a little fired up now, and the only thing that would make you feel better would be getting the last word in with Hyunjin for once.

You take a sip of your cocktail, floating the cold liquid on your tongue as you devise your next line of attack, when your phone buzzes again.

Hyunjin: I have another photo for you You: Why? Hyunjin: Because I think you’d like it You: Oh really? Like you know what I like Hyunjin: Always so argumentative Hyunjin: You’re pretty easy to figure out Hyunjin: The staring makes it incredibly obvious

Such an ass.

You: Fuck off Hyunjin: I will not You: What’s your game, man? Hyunjin: No game Hyunjin: Can’t I just do something nice for you?

The man is a riddle. An enigma draped in Versace.

You type out “I guess there’s a first time for everything” and press send, putting your phone down long enough to watch him get the text. Hyunjin laughs to himself, smiling down at his screen, and there’s this weird feeling of satisfaction in your stomach at the sight. Whatever, you like making people laugh, even assholes like him. So what.

You tell yourself that you’re not going to wait at his beck and call, jumping to read his texts as they come in, if in fact he keeps sending them, but then your phone vibrates again and you snap it up immediately, because you’re a liar.

Hyunjin: Just trust me Hyunjin: You want this Hyunjin: But I want something first You: Oh here we go You: There’s the catch A hand waves over your phone. “Hi, hello, are we boring you?”

Quickly, you turn it over before Seungmin can see your text thread. “No, sorry, I was just, uh - “

“Hey, leave her be,” your savior Felix says, pushing Seungmin lightly. “She’s had a rough couple of weeks. She shouldn’t have to suffer through your boring work stories, too.”

“Hey!”

Seungmin and Felix dissolve into arguing as you covertly flip your phone back over.

Hyunjin: I’m not asking much Hyunjin: Just a photo of you. A photo for a photo

He can’t be serious.

You: I’m not sending you a nude Hyunjin: Did I say nude? No, I did not Hyunjin: A normal selfie, that’s all

Again your suspicion rises. What is he playing at? Where is this going?

You: But WHY? Hyunjin: Maybe I can’t stop staring, either

Your breath catches in your throat. When you look up, he’s gazing at you again, but his expression is less smug than usual and more… ravenous.

You turn away so fast, your neck cracks.

Hyunjin: So? Send me a pic.

There’s no reason for you to agree to this. Absolutely no reason at all. Beyond, of course, your burning curiosity.

It’s really going to get you in trouble one day.

Grabbing your clutch, you slip off your chair. “Ladies room,” you announce, glancing at Felix and Seungmin, who aren’t listening anyway, still squabbling. You wander just far enough out of sight of your friends, find a spot with good lighting back near the bar (because even if it’s just for Hyunjin, your vanity will not let you take an unflattering photo), and snap a quick picture, firing it off right away.

As you’re sliding back into your seat, your phone vibrates. Hyunjin sent another photo.

You swallow reflexively. Holy shit. It’s a shot of his crotch, dress pants straining to contain what is clearly a massive cock, gripped through the fabric by long fingers.

Hwang Hyunjin sent you a dick pic.

So it’s not big dick energy, it’s just big dick, is the first coherent thought you have once the screeching inside your head stops. It occurs to you that you’ve been gawking unblinkingly at your phone for at least several minutes, so you raise your head to make sure your friends aren’t watching you, and thankfully they’re not. Really, you should know better than to underestimate just how much Felix and Seungmin love to bicker.

But what are you supposed to say to Hyunjin now? Your thumbs hover, waiting for inspiration, but you’re stuck.

Hyunjin: Wow, are you speechless? Hyunjin: Guess there really is a first time for everything

Even without looking, you know he’s smirking at you from across the room. Suddenly, you need another drink, so you mumble “bar” in Felix’s direction and stumble away. As the bartender mixes you another cocktail, you grip your phone tightly, waging an inner war with yourself.

You should look at the photo again. You shouldn’t look at the photo again. You should delete it, and Hyunjin’s number, and maybe throw the phone in the nearest trash bin too, just for extra comfort. But holy fuck, do you want to look at the photo again!

What you really don’t want is to think about the effect that photo has had on your pussy, because it’s humiliating how much she’s throbbing right now.

“I’ll take one of those as well, thanks.” A hand waves towards the bartender, and your treacherous brain immediately recognizes those fingers as the fingers from Hyunjin’s photo, and starts picturing what those lithe digits would look like wrapped around your throat. Great. Now your brain has joined your pussy. Traitors.

You say nothing as Hyunjin takes the seat next to you. Partly because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten under your skin again, albeit in a very different way, but also partly because you’re still not sure what to say.

“You know,” Hyunjin bends towards you, close enough for his warm breath to tickle your ear, “if I’d known that all it would take to get you to stop arguing with me was showing you my cock, I would’ve introduced you much sooner.”

“God, you are just - just the worst,” you snarl, teeth clenched hard enough to give you a headache.

“Now really, is that any way to speak to someone who just gave you a gift?” Hyunjin sips his drink calmly.

Well, there’s the Hyunjin you recognize. What you don’t understand is how he’s still making your cunt drip with need. All you can think about right now is what he’s hiding under those suit pants. Are you really this dumbstruck by cock?

(Yes. Yes, you are.)

“Me and every other woman in this club, I bet. You probably air dropped it to the whole room.” You wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe that was his plan the whole time - work you up then leave you begging while he hooked up with someone else. As if you’d beg.

“Oh no, that was just for you.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

With a roll of his eyes, Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “Come on. You know how selective I am when it comes to my clothes or my liquor. Why would I be any less selective about who I fuck?”

“Who you fuck?” Whoa, who said anything about fucking? Besides your duplicitous brain and pussy. “Who - who said - that’s not - I mean -” You’ve suddenly become the Big Bad Wolf, huffing and puffing, unable to form a complete sentence.

Hyunjin rises, leaning over you as you gaze up at him from your barstool. He places his hands on the bar, one arm on either side of you, bracketing you in, wild eyes trailing down your figure slowly before he smiles, hungry and sharp, and you realize, no, here’s the wolf.

“Listen, there’s no reason we can’t fuck. Friends fuck all the time.” His hand glides over your shoulder, light as a feather, and you watch dazedly as goosebumps ripple along your skin. His touch is electric.

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

Hyunjin shrugs, lips twisted in a droll smile. “Close enough. This doesn’t have to be complicated. You said it yourself - you’re in need.”

“What? When did - I never said that!” Again you struggle to speak coherently, sputtering in your confusion.

Hyunjin frowns. “Ah, you’re right, I misspoke. That was Felix who said that, wasn’t it? On the ride here?”

You curse inwardly, remembering the private discussion you and Felix had had on the way to the club, when you were discussing your dry spell. Or at least, it was supposed to be private, but obviously someone had been listening in. Felix had offered to play wingman for you, saying he wouldn’t let anything keep him from helping you “in your time of need” - a bit dramatic, but that was Felix for you.

You’d waved him off, insisting that you could snag someone without any help. But here you are, drowning your sorrows at the bar with no possibilities in sight. Maybe you should’ve accepted Felix’s help after all.

“That’s not…” Sighing, you shrug. There was no point in trying to deny what he’d heard. “Fine, yeah, I came here tonight hoping to leave with someone, but I didn’t mean you!”

“That’s because you didn’t know I was an option.” Again his gaze travels down your body, lingering like a slow caress. “But after seeing the way you look tonight, I had to offer myself up.”

Always. So. Cocky. You want to deny that his words have an effect on you. Want to. But can’t.

And like that, your resolve starts to slip.

“You really want to help me out?” you ask. He nods, irises blown as his eyes flicker to yours, and it puts fire in your belly, has you biting your lip in contemplation. “What makes you think you have what I need?”

Hyunjin doesn’t bother to check if any of your friends are watching as he steps closer, like he doesn’t care if anyone sees the way he cups your cheek. Or how he slides his thumb over your lips, dragging the bottom one down before lowering his mouth towards yours. He hangs there, just for a second - just long enough for you to tip your face up in a wordless answer.

His touch has nothing on his kiss. Your whole body thrums from head to toe, fizzing like the champagne on your tongue earlier, sweet and effervescent. His hand falls to your hip, squeezes there suddenly, and you feel a rush of heat between your thighs.

Hyunjin’s plush lips part, letting the tip of his tongue briefly nudge against yours before he pulls away, leaving you blinking dumbly. He lets out a low chuckle, gently wiping a drop of spit from your chin.

“I just know.”

You’re too busy licking the inside of your lips, hunting for any lingering trace of him, to respond.

“Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” His eyes dip to your mouth and back, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to make a move again. Needing him to. “Just think about it.”

And then he walks away, leaving you nearly toppling off your seat, floundering in his wake.

The ice cubes in your cocktail have all but melted by the time you remember you ordered another drink. Sipping it slowly, you replay the last several minutes in your head. Did all of that just happen? Did Hyunjin really just offer himself to you? And then kiss you like that?

You feel like you’re going out of your mind.

“Just think about it.”

Hyunjin’s last words echo in your head as you wander on wobbly legs back towards the table where Felix and Seungmin are still standing.

And oh, god, do you think about it.

For the rest of the night, no matter how many conversations you have with your other friends, no matter how hard you dance, no matter what you do - the sole thought occupying your brain is what it would be like to fuck Hyunjin. Again and again, you picture him above you, beneath you, behind you, big cock stretching you out, making you scream his name.

But it’s not worth it to give in to him. It can’t be. Good dick - if it’s good - can’t be enough to undo all the annoying shit he does, can it?

You cut yourself off early in the night, explaining that someone needs to stay sober enough to call for rides, but really you’re afraid that if you get completely blitzed, you’ll end up admitting something you don’t want to admit and going home with Hyunjin. Your friends honor your noble sacrifice by achieving impressive levels of drunk, ranging from delightful (Felix repeatedly booping you on the nose, calling you his “widdle buddy”) to disastrous (Chan, who gets upset when the guy he hits on in the bathroom doesn’t respond - turns out he was hitting on his own reflection - before falling asleep in a stall).

Since the club is in the middle of downtown, you arrange for two cars to pick you and your friends up - one heading east, one heading west. Changbin, Chan, Hyunjin, and you pile into the ride heading west. Changbin hops into the passenger’s seat before you can slip in, leaving you smushed in the back between Hyunjin and Chan’s gigantic thighs.

Said thighs are splayed a bit as Chan’s head lolls back, a loud snore erupting out of him as the car makes its first stop outside Changbin’s apartment.

“Can’t take him anywhere,” Changbin grunts, snapping a rather unflattering photo of Chan sleeping with his mouth wide open, obviously saving it to drop in the group chat at the most opportune time. “Can you two make sure he gets home okay? I know it’s a bit out of the way, but, well, look at him.”

Chan continues to rumble like a fighter jet, unaware of everything going on around him.

“Yeah, don’t worry, we got him,” Hyunjin replies, and you just nod. “Night, ‘Bin.”

Changbin gives the driver Chan’s address and then he ducks out of the cab. Your place is technically the next closest, but getting Chan back to his place safe and sound is the priority.

With Chan sleeping next to you, it’s basically just you and Hyunjin alone now. A fact that has also occurred to Hyunjin, whose hand has been drifting further and further around your waist the entire ride. Now it slides around openly, tucking you against his side. You could fight it if you so desired - he’s not holding you tightly. He’s giving you the chance to escape.

You’re not sure you want to.

“Have you thought about it?” he murmurs, nose against your ear.

Your body reacts to the tone of his voice, thighs rubbing together, as you nod.

“And what did you decide?”

“I - I don’t know.”

A puff of air tickles your skin as he laughs derisively. “Do you really need some convincing?”

Chan snuffles loudly, reminding you that there’s another person right next to you, since your entire focus is on Hyunjin, and the way his hand is now creeping beneath the open back of your dress, and slowly moving up your rib cage.

When he cups your left breast, you stifle a gasp. But you can’t stop the tiny “ah!” that escapes when he gently pinches your nipple. You attempt to cover it with a cough, hoping the driver’s lack of visible response means he didn’t hear you. Meanwhile, next to you, Chan doesn’t stir.

“Feel good?” Hyunjin coos quietly. “Must’ve felt good, given the way you’re squirming right now.”

Your hips have started to rock of their own volition. Brain, hips, pussy, all on your shit list.

“But just think how much better it’ll feel when it’s my mouth.” His tongue flicks the shell of your ear before he sucks your earlobe into his warm mouth. A preview of what’s to come. It makes you squirm even harder, dying for any sort of relief for the aching between your legs.

Remarkably, you manage to speak, hissing, “You’re a demon.”

Hyunjin laughs. “You’ve no idea.”

His hand stays where it is until the car pulls up at the curb outside Chan’s house. It takes a minute for the two of you to wake Chan, then another minute for him to realize where he is, then yet another minute for him to slide out of the car. Hyunjin sighs and also climbs out of the cab to make sure Chan gets into his house safely.

When Hyunjin returns, the driver glances in the rearview mirror. “So, one more stop, or two?”

You blink at the question. The air in the cab feels heavy with implication. Hyunjin says nothing, but looks at you expectantly, and you understand - the choice is yours.

You glance at your hands, as if they’ll help you choose. Your watch informs you that it’s 2:12 in the morning. Don’t they always say not to trust any decisions you make after two am?

When the driver clears his throat a little too loudly, Hyunjin’s fingers grip your chin.

“Well? You heard him - one stop or two?”

You meet his gaze, surprised to find a fire burning in his eyes.

Maybe you’d be a fool to run towards it, seeking warmth where there might only be danger.

Fine, then. You’re a fool.

“One.”

With a satisfied grin, Hyunjin gives the driver his address.

You’re a little tense during the elevator ride up to Hyunjin’s apartment. Hyunjin, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, quietly leaning against the wall with his normal blasé expression on his face. Like you’re not about to cross a boundary here that you never expected to cross. Like this was inevitable.

As soon as you’re both inside and his door is locked, he turns to face you, and you suck in a deep breath, waiting impatiently for him to touch you again.

Instead, he asks, “Do you want some water?”

“Um, yeah, sure.”

He must read confusion on your face - at least, you hope it looks like confusion and not disappointment - because the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile.

“A few questions first,” he says, walking into his kitchen, sliding his suit jacket off as he goes. “Are you in good health?”

“Am I - am I in good health?”

Hyunjin tuts. “I’d ask if you need me to repeat myself but clearly you heard the question.”

You stare at his back, brows furrowing as you decipher his meaning. “Are you asking if I’ve been tested recently? Yes, I have been. Nothing to report.”

“Good, me too,” he replies, yanking his tie off and tossing it onto the counter before opening the fridge and grabbing you both a bottle of water. He eyes you as he opens his. “Are you on birth control?”

“Is this what you’re like on a date? Does your foreplay always involve interrogating your partner with clinical questions?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He tilts his head back as he drinks, so he doesn’t catch the glare you shoot his way. “Answer the question.”

“Yes, dick, I’m on birth control.” You take a swig of your water. The memory of his touch in the taxi is fading more and more with every second that passes. With a clearer head, you’re starting to question if you’ve made the right choice.

“Good,” he repeats, wiping his mouth. “I prefer to fuck raw.”

You clench around nothing at the thought, but scowl anyway. “What about what I prefer?”

Hyunjin just hums, fingers brushing your cheek before they tap under your chin. “Do you want me to use a condom?” There’s no drollness or sarcasm to his tone. He’s genuinely asking.

“No.” Your pride takes a tiny hit at the way you answer him immediately, without hesitation.

Just as quickly as his gentle tone came, it disappears again, vanishing as Hyunjin flashes a smug smile. “That’s what I thought.”

“That’s what - oh fuck off.” There he is again, that cocky asshole. Reflexively, you curse at him, ready to fight. “Fuck you, you don’t know anything about me.”

“How many times do I need to tell you that I do? You’re so easy to read.”

“Really?” Okay then. You’ll call his bluff. “Go ahead, Hyunjinnie. Tell me what I like.”

He rolls his eyes. His fingers make quick work of his cufflinks, setting them on the granite top beside him, and he slides his sleeves up, revealing toned forearms beneath.

“Well, for starters, you love getting under my skin with that infantile nickname.”

“No shit. Everyone knows that.”

“You live for arguing, especially with me. Can’t let a single sentence go by without snapping back.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re always wrong.”

Hyunjin doesn’t take the bait, merely leans back against the counter, examining you so openly that you feel exposed, so you cross your arms, as if that will help you block his penetrating gaze. He takes a few seconds before speaking again.

“No, it’s not that. Though I’m sure that’s what you tell yourself. If it were, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

He speaks so calmly, so self-assuredly. It’s maddening, even though you’re burning with curiosity. Makes you want to know more, so you press him again. “Okay, then - what is it? Why am I here?”

“Because you wanted someone to take control.” He spreads his arms wide. “And here I am.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know. You want someone else to be in charge. Make the decisions. Do the work for you. Then fuck you so hard that all those thoughts just fly right out of that pretty little head of yours.” He says it all so matter-of-factly, like it’s completely evident, your deepest desires laid bare for all to witness.

You want to dismiss his words, act like he’s so far off the mark that he’s on another planet, but you’re too surprised by his answer to respond with anything other than stunned silence. His arrogant smile returns. Clearly he was expecting you to fight, so your lack of a snappy comeback only confirms to him that he’s right.

“Just look at what you’re wearing,” he continues. “That tight dress screams ‘please fuck me stupid!’ Lucky for you, that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

You find your voice. “Oh, now you’re judging my clothing? And - and slut shaming me?”

“Please. I’m always judging your clothing. But it’s a taste thing, not some sort of moral judgment.” He smirks. “And I’m very supportive of sluts, thank you.”

As he sips his water, you replay the entire evening in your mind. Sending you the photos. Kissing you. Making the offer. Fuck. He really did do the work for you tonight. Was there ever a chance you were going to say no? Judging by Hyunjin’s attitude, this moment was never in doubt. He knew you’d end up here with him.

The other realization that dawns on you is - you’re not mad about any of that. The only thing you’re mad about is that, once again, he’s right about something. And he knows it.

Okay. Fine. You want to be fucked stupid. But does he have to be so fucking rude about it??

“Maybe this was a bad idea.”

He suddenly steps towards you. His expression is so intense that you move without thinking, backing all the way into the fridge. Your heart feels like it might burst through your ribcage at the slightest provocation, breath leaving your lungs in tiny exhalations as his thumb ghosts your cheek.

Not because you’re scared. Because you’re excited.

“Tell me you don’t want to kiss me.”

Hyunjin says the words softly, but there’s a firmness to his gaze that makes you swallow hard.

Your lips don’t move.

He kisses you. Wraps his hands around your waist, pulls you to his demanding mouth, head turning this way and that as his lips crash onto yours.

You kiss him back. Just as greedily, just as deeply.

His hand strokes your thigh. “Tell me you don’t want me to touch you.”

You make no noise.

His fingers crawl beneath your skirt, dancing over the silk of your underwear. Your gasp warms his tongue. A throaty growl chokes him.

“So wet for me.” He brings his hand up to show you the evidence, skin glistening. As if you didn’t already know.

He surges forward, pinning you to the fridge, mouth blazing a trail from your ear to your neck as his fingers press into your soaking slit.

“Ah, Hyunjin!” you whimper, clutching wildly at his bicep. The swell of his arm bulges as his fingers slowly search your inner walls, like they’re mapping every inch of you. When they trace over your g-spot, they linger, brushing again and again. “Oh my god!”

“Tell me,” he implores, husky voice breaking, like he’s barely in control, “tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you don’t want this - don’t want me - and I’ll call you a ride and we’ll never talk about this again.”

His forehead bumps yours, eyes smoldering with bright intensity, hand still plunging.

This time, you speak, chest heaving as you gasp for air.

“Don’t - don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

A smile spreads across Hyunjin’s face. He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, the other hand still working between your thighs. You moan, feeling his erection digging into your hip as he presses himself against you, holding you firmly in place while he adds a third finger to the two already fucking you open.

“Say it,” he commands, mouth wet and hot on your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want, oh, fuck, I, I want you to fuck me, Hyunjin.”

In an instant, he’s disentangled himself from you, and you can’t help but whine very loudly at the sudden loss of his fingers. Hyunjin just smirks at your naked desperation, spinning you around so you’re in front of him.

“Come on,” he says, lightly pinching your ass to make you move. You yelp, smacking him on the arm, but he just laughs. “I’m not fucking you in here. Let’s go.”

“Asshole,” you curse, but you go anyway, because all you want is for him to touch you again, and if he’s refusing to do it in here, then why would you want to stay? You’re going wherever his hands go.

Maybe you should feel ashamed, for giving in so easily. But you don’t. All you feel is desire. This is what you want. What you need.

Hyunjin’s fingers press lightly on the small of your back as he guides you down the hallway to his bedroom. It’s just as ostentatious as the rest of his place - expensive-looking light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, dark leather headboard and frame for his gigantic bed, which is covered in piles of plush-looking blankets and pillows. There’s a gorgeous painting taking up most of the wall above his bed.

He doesn’t give you much time to admire the room, because as soon as you’re in front of the bed, he spins you again, hands reaching for the zipper of your dress, sliding it to the ground, leaving you standing there in nothing but your panties. Before you can tell him to stop pushing you around, he’s kissing you fervently, like he’s been dying the entire time his mouth has been away from yours these last few minutes, and suddenly you forget that you’re irritated.

Hyunjin backs you onto the bed, breaking away from your lips long enough to urge you to move towards the headboard, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the side as he follows. When his fingers grab for his belt, they find yours already there, making short work of the buckle. He groans in delight, deciding to use his hands to grope your bare breasts while you unzip his pants.

“Can’t wait to see it in real life, huh?” he asks, dragging his thumbs over your nipples. He chuckles when you just whimper, back arching slightly to encourage him to keep touching you.

The truth is, yes, you can’t wait to see Hyunjin’s massive dick, but more importantly, you can’t wait to feel it inside you, so you continue with your task, pushing his pants and boxers down together. And god, what a cock it is, long and thick and positively darkened with need. Smeared drops of excitement coat the head, and the sight makes your mouth water.

He rises up to kneel between your legs, grabbing his cock with one hand and giving it a few lazy pumps. “Well? Don’t tell me you’re speechless again.”

“Goddamn it,” you huff in exasperation, “you’re the fucking worst.” But you can’t stop staring as he gently squeezes the head, making a pleased noise, relieving himself a little while he watches you writhe in impatience.

“You’ll be singing a different tune in a moment, sweetheart.”

Your nose wrinkles at how easily ‘sweetheart’ drips off his tongue. “Just put it in me already,” you demand, leaning back on your elbows, licking your lips as you peer up at him, trying to send a blatant “fuck me!” signal with every inch of your body.

Hyunjin tuts, lifting one of his gorgeously thick eyebrows. “Right to it? Is that what you really want?” In one swift motion, he hooks a finger under your panties and drags them down and off. It’d be a more impressive move if anyone but him were doing it.

“I just… I thought we were gonna fuck?” Isn’t that what you’re here for?

“Of course we are. But is that how you typically do it? No foreplay, no build up?” His fingers rake down your stomach, trail over your thighs, causing your body to twitch with shivers. “That doesn’t sound like any fun at all.”

It’s not how you’d prefer to do this, no. You’re just surprised that he agrees. So you say nothing in reply, visibly closing your mouth while he maneuvers you into position, pushing your legs up so your knees bend, your thighs meeting your stomach, completely exposing your cunt to him.

“That’s better. Just let me play with you a little first, sweetheart. I promise you’ll like it.”

Your instinct is to argue with him, tell him he has no idea what you’d like, but you’ve already done that tonight. And you were wrong. So again, you bite your tongue.

Until he extends his own, letting a string of spit fall onto your pussy.

“Ew, Hyunjin!” You’re disgusted, but not with him. Why do you find that so hot?

“Too much?” he inquires, letting go of your legs as he glances at you. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen a real expression of concern on his face before. It rattles you slightly.

Biting your lip, you shake your head. “No - keep going.”

He nods, hands reaching for your thighs again. “If I hit any hard no’s for you, say something, and I promise I’ll stop, okay?”

“I will.”

He bows over you again, licking a straight line up your slit. With a moan, you let your head drop back against the pillows. His mouth feels absolutely divine.

Where others in the past just dove in, Hyunjin takes his time. He drags his tongue around slowly, licking through your soaking folds, tasting you. It reminds you of the way you’d seen him drink a really fine whisky, holding it in his mouth, quietly identifying every note, every flavor. Relishing, instead of rushing.

When his lips brush over your clit, leaving teasing kisses, you moan. Hyunjin hums, a self-satisfied little rumble, and lifts his head. “See? Told you you’d like this.”

“Please, shut up and suck my clit.” It’s meant to be an order but definitely sounds like a pathetic whine. Whatever, as long as he listens.

He listens. Those plush lips that you can’t stop yourself from staring at roll over your already throbbing little nub and warm pleasure runs down your spine before pooling in your belly. His dark hair keeps falling in his face, obscuring him from your view, and for some reason you can’t have that. Tentatively, you reach out, hand shaking a little.

Hyunjin hums when your fingers slide through his soft locks, pushing the strands back, holding them in place so you can see his eyes, the way they squeeze shut when he sucks noisily on your clit. The sounds he makes are so loud, completely uninhibited, moaning and grunting as his lips smack and his tongue laps.

He uses said tongue to fuck you expertly, his movements so confident, so sure. He reads every quiver, listens to every moan, figures out how to work you up with quick, teasing shallow plunges, before slowing it down, going deeper, tongue brushing your walls like he’s speaking a language only your body understands.

“Hyunjin,” you sigh, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

His mouth parts from you long enough for him to speak. “There it is. There’s the tone I was looking for. Enjoy this, sweetheart. I know I am.”

You’re enjoying it so much that you unexpectedly whimper when he stops again a moment later, feeling a little embarrassed as he exhales a quiet laugh into your warmth. “Just hold on,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue up your slit to pass over your clit again and again, before sliding a finger into your clenching hole.

“Ohhhh.”

The combination is so good, his finger filling you while his mouth suctions to you, that your eyes flutter shut. He pulls out and glides back in, all the way to his knuckles in one smooth motion, your wet folds parting so easily for him. He’s done an amazing job of spreading your slickness around, coating your inner thighs, messing his bed beneath you.

“Gonna make you come,” Hyunjin says, spreading you open with two fingers now. “Need you to come before I can fuck you just like you want. Can you do that for me?”

The tension in your gut tells you that that shouldn’t be a problem. Both fingers have curled inside you, stroking over your soft spot, making you pant, clutching Hyunjin’s satin sheets for dear life.

“Hy-Hyun-”

Before you can even finish saying his name, the tension snaps, nerves firing from your cunt to your toes, causing your legs to lock up. Hyunjin groans, moving his hands to grasp at your thighs, trying to loosen their squeeze.

“Easy, sweetheart, don’t take me out just yet.” When your body finally starts to relax, he grins. “There we go. Good girl.”

If this were any other time, you’d snap at him for dropping that pet phrase on you. But you’re too blissed out at the moment, practically purring as he starts to kiss his way up your torso.

When he reaches your breasts, he joins you, a low rumble sounding from the back of his throat. His nose nuzzles between them, as he leaves loud kisses on their swelling curves.

Another thing Hyunjin isn’t wrong about - his mouth feels much better than his fingers do on your nipples, tongue gliding like warm velvet against the pert nubs. You continuously moan, until you’re nearly panting, fingers once again finding his dark locks and threading themselves between.

“How am I doing, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

“Good.” It doesn’t even occur to you to tell him anything but the truth. “So good, Hyunjinnie. Ah!” You flinch as he suddenly nips the other nipple, teeth clamping gently. “Why?!”

“You and that damn nickname. I must not be doing enough if you’re still calling me that.” He rises onto his knees, shaking his head. “Guess I just gotta fuck it out of you.”

And just like that, you feel that spark again.

“Sure you will, Hyunjinnie,” you simper, voice dripping with honey, so sickeningly-sweet as you coo his name. It has the desired effect, making Hyunjin’s eyes flash.

He reaches for you, pulling you up into his lap, before you can so much as breathe. “You doubting me, sweetheart?” His hands press into your hips, urging you down on him. Both of you groan as his cock slides along your cunt, and the sparks inside you ignite.

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you spit back, feeling that familiar sense of agitation, but it’s not annoyance now, it’s anticipation.

“And I’m not really yours, but let’s play pretend for the night,” he drawls, and you look at him with wide eyes, but he kisses away the wonder on your face, working you up with teeth and tongue, until you’re frenzied with need. Your fingers clutch at his biceps, nails sinking in to tether him closer.

His hands on your waist guide you down again. As his cockhead breaches your lips, you keen, head falling forward onto his shoulder.

“Holy fuck,” you gasp. The stretch is delicious, cunt already throbbing around his thickness.

Both of you freeze when you’re fully seated on him, no sounds in the room but the rhythmic cadence of your panting intertwining with his.

“You know,” Hyunjin speaks through grit teeth, focused on the spot where your bodies join, “we could’ve been doing this a long, long time ago.”

You don’t know what to say to that. How long has he wanted this? You’re not sure the exact answer for yourself, except that it’s longer than you’d ever truly want to confess.

“Maybe - maybe if you weren’t such a - oh, oh, oh!” Your lame attempt at a retort is lost to the rapid snapping of Hyunjin’s hips when he starts to thrust up into you. There’s nothing you can do but bounce in his lap, clinging to his shoulders as he finally fucks you just as hard as he’d promised. “Hyunjin, please!”

Hyunjin grunts, perspiration trickling down his forehead as he concentrates on giving you what you wanted. His jaw flexes, brows drawn together in a frown, and even with this fierce expression on his face, he’s so beautiful that you can’t help yourself, diving forward to kiss that gorgeous mouth of his like you’ve always imagined, as if you weren’t just kissing him a few minutes ago, but like it’s the first time, tracing his lips with yours, imprinting the feeling of them against your own to store away in your memory for later.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” His words are the oxygen you inhale, tongues pressed together like the pages of a book. “I think I prefer you this way. So needy for my cock.” He smirks. “Kinda want to keep you like this.”

He digs his fingers into the plump roundness of your ass as he grinds into you, sliding you back and forth. Your hips undulate, rolling you down on his big cock, feeling every inch of him rubbing against your walls.

“Hyu-hyu-hyun!”

It’s impossible to get an entire word out, given the pace at which Hyunjin’s strokes are jostling you. Your staccato cries get louder when he switches it up, laying you on your back and shoving a pillow under your hips. His thighs smack into your ass with every plunge of his thick length, and again you can do nothing but try to breathe, drowning in euphoria as you are.

“Yeah, you’re best just like this. Stuffed full of cock, no room for thoughts. Or arguments.”

“F-fuck!” You were trying to say ‘fuck off’ but Hyunjin chose that moment to thumb at your clit, giving the aching nub the friction it so badly needed. Your hips buck up, making Hyunjin groan.

“Just like that, so good for me.”

You whine involuntarily at his praise, hips lifting again, trying to take him deeper. Every stroke of his cock lights you up, your body tingling from head to toe. The strong thrumming in your gut is going to overtake you soon and you’re finally going to get what you’ve been needing for weeks now. And it’s Hyunjin of all people who is going to give it to you.

You’re pulled out of your reverie as Hyunjin suddenly pulls out, falling onto his side next to you.

“What are y- oh!” You gasp as he turns you on your side, facing away from him. One hand lifts your leg, sliding it back until your calf loops over his. Then he enters you again, and again, thrusting in deep, powerful movements. “Oh, fuck, goddamn.”

“That’s right,” he growls, arm beneath you bending, hand coming to a rest around your throat. Not squeezing, but holding you in place, back pressed to his front. You’re both covered in sweat, bodies gliding over one another, making it hard for him to keep his pace. So his fingers spread on your chest, locking you in place, giving him leverage to pound into you. “Take it, sweetheart. Take what I give you like a good girl.”

“Ahhh,” you moan, “don’t - don’t call me that.”

“No? You don’t like being praised?” Hyunjin releases his hold on your thigh, running his others fingers around where his cock keeps sliding between your lips. “Your pussy tells me another story. You’re soaking my sheets.”

“Nah - ah - not that, ’s not that.” With this slightly slower rhythm, you’re able to speak, but full sentences still seem hard. “Like praise. Hate - hate good girl.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Hyunjin laughs breathily. “I should’ve known. You’re too proud. Think it makes you look weak if I call you that? Hmm?”

Even in your desperate state, you know he’s not far off from the truth. You don’t want him calling you that, because it feels like giving in to him. Letting him take control completely. Possessing you. His good girl.

The real, honest to god truth is - you can’t let him call you that, because you do want it. And you hate how much you want it.

So you deny it. Or at least, you try to. But all you can stutter is a weak “You’re s-such a d-dick,” as he continues snapping his hips into your ass, making your entire body jiggle in his strong grip.

Hyunjin drops an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, wet and sloppy. You curl your fingers into his arm as you sense that you’re approaching the precipice of your orgasm. You can tell that it’s going to be an intense one, one of those climaxes that clears your mind of all thought and leaves you literally shaking in ecstasy. Just as he’d promised.

You do appreciate a man who follows through on his promises.

Hyunjin must feel the way you’re starting to clench around him, groaning into your shoulder. “Ahh, I think this little cunt’s trying to tell me something again, sweetheart. You gonna come for me? Hmmm?” His fingers rub over your clit, the sudden touch making you jolt. “Come on, be a good girl and c-”

Twisting your head, you smash your nose into his cheek, clumsily seeking his mouth. Cutting him off with heated kisses, hoping he’ll interpret it as annoyance fueling your actions and not see it for what it truly is - untamed desire.

A strangled cry passes from Hyunjin’s lips into yours, and with one more tweak to your clit, you come undone. Your body locks up, thighs going rigid, cunt clamping around his cock so fiercely that Hyunjin hisses loudly, forehead resting on the nape of your neck.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight,” he whispers in your ear. Sweat drips from his skin onto yours. “You’re gonna make me come. Is that what you want?”

You can’t answer. You’re gone, completely gone, beyond words, capable of making only the most broken, pathetic sounds, wantonly mewling as slowly grinds into you, cock rubbing against your clenching walls. When your legs start to go slack, he resumes his thrusting, but at a languorous pace, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to go easy on you now that you’re approaching overstimulation, or if he’s trying to slow himself down.

“I think it is what you want. I think you want me to fill this little pussy up with my cum, don’t you? Hmm?” His nose prods at your cheek. “A sweet creampie for my good girl?”

The whine that you let you out is pitifully loud. White hot shame spikes through you, but only for a second, the emotion quickly burnt away by your fervent need.

“Come on, tell me. Tell me you want it.”

“Ahhh!” You gasp as his cock sinks in deeper, hitting your g-spot. It’s almost too much, the delicious drag, and your fingers dig into his arm, nails sinking into his skin. “Fuck!”

“Tell me,” he says again, but this time there’s a plea laced into the command, a desperate edge in his tone that strikes a chord somewhere deep inside you, and suddenly you want to give him anything he needs.

“Hyunjin, I want it, p-please!”

Those are the magic words. Hyunjin groans, his hips falling out of their slow rhythm, jerking erratically as he does exactly what he said, shooting his load deep inside you, moaning your name the entire time. You grip the sheets so hard, you’re afraid you’ll tear them, shoving your hips back against his, riding out his climax with him.

“Pussy’s sucking me dry, sweetheart. So greedy,” he pants, trailing kisses along your neck. “Think it wants more.”

“Hyunjin!” You sob his name again, voice breaking. All it takes is his fingers pinching at your clit and you’re coming again, stomach twitching, breath leaving your body in one big rush.

When your body stops trembling, Hyunjin finally slips out of you, his hand falling away from your cunt. He lets out a tired laugh.

“You can take your nails out of my arm. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh.” Your neck burns a little in embarrassment. You hadn’t realized you were still holding on to him so tightly, unconsciously keeping him in place. Keeping him close to you. You relax your grip, and he slides his arms around you further, locking you into his embrace.

It’s… nice, being in Hyunjin’s arms. Really nice. Lying there, in your messy, tired state, you feel rather content.

But the longer you lie there, just breathing together, not speaking, your head starts to fill with thoughts again. Questions. The most pressing being, at what point is he going to kick you out? Because despite everything that just happened, he’s still Hyunjin, and you’re still you, and -

“It’s already started.” Hyunjin hums, lightly shaking you. “I can hear you thinking again.”

Your reflexes kick back in. “It’s just what I do. You should try it some time.”

To your surprise, Hyunjin starts to laugh. You roll over, nose bumping his as you give him a curious look.

“What?”

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” He brushes a finger over your cheek. “You’ve got a fighter’s instinct. It’s one of the things I admire about you. But maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to fight me all the time?”

You stare at him as you try to make sense of the rather casual confession of admiration he just dropped. Nope. Can’t. Not right now.

“I…” You pause. “Sorry. It’s just a habit.”

He smiles, something genuine that slowly shifts into his familiar smirk, and even as spent as you are, you feel a stirring inside you. “Guess we need to work on that.”

In the morning, you might regret what you say next. But the night’s not over yet. “Maybe you just didn’t fuck me stupid enough yet.”

Hyunjin accepts your challenge with a kiss.

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

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Taglist: @scoupsjin; @aznstoner; @yourtmblrgirlfriend; @hyunlvrs; @notevenheretbh1; @chrisbangsgalaxy; @dessianna1

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz imagines #skz x you #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids x you #fic: yours for the night

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danikamariewrites · 11 months ago

Note

First wanted to say I love your stories they are amazing! If possible, I have a request for a xaden x reader that’s preferably fluff. The reader is in the same quadrant as xaden but they aren’t super close. The reader gets hurt and Xaden takes them to the infirmary but the reader starts to freak out because of fears of needles/blood (maybe an anxiety attack?) reader tries to hide it because they are embarrassed but Xaden notices anyway and tries to comfort them. :)

Squeeze My Hand

Xaden x reader

Notes: thank you for requesting this anon bc I’ve been struggling for weeks to write and this gave me my spark back. this was the first thing I’ve finished (happily) in weeks💕

Warnings: blood, stitches, injury, and needles

You couldn’t look down. You’d pass out which would make everything worse. It’s bad enough you can feel the blood seeping down your thigh. The last thing you needed was to see the liquid along with the gash.

Taking deep breaths you laid at the bottom of the Gauntlet, thinking about where you misstepped.

A pair of strong arms scooped you up, helping you to stand. Looking up you see Xaden Riorson’s dark eyes roaming your face. Worry set in on his features, wondering how you’re staying so calm in a situation that would have anyone else writhing on the ground.

“I’ll take her!” Xaden calls out to the Leader. You hadn’t heard a word anyone said in the last five minutes with the adrenaline and blood rushing in your ears.

“Can you walk?” He asked softly, taking you by surprise. “Kind of,” you mutter as you study the color of his eyes. The darkness of them holds the littlest flecks of hazel and gold, making them look kinder up close.

Getting to the stone stairs leading up to school you let out a huff. Without hesitation Xaden picked you up bridal style, careful of the still bleeding gash on your thigh. You suck in a harsh breath at the stinging sensation running up your limb.

“Sorry,” Xaden murmured.

He slowed his pace to not jostle you around as much. Even when you got to the top of the stairs Xaden kept you in his arms. He was warm and gentle with you. The initial shock of your injury had you too occupied to wonder why Xaden was helping you.

Even though you’re in the same Quadrant you rarely talk with Xaden. Like every other girl with eyes at Basgiath, you found Xaden attractive.

As he gets closer to the infirmary you subconsciously grip Xaden’s shirt. Your fist begins to shake, knuckles turning white.

Xaden looks down at you, noticing how bad you’re trembling. The color drained from your face as he pushed through the infirmary doors. Your eyes watch the move of every healer as Xaden places you on an empty bed.

You keep your gaze from the wound, knowing the sight of blood makes you nauseous.

One of the senior Healers comes to inspect your cut, gently moving your leathers to get the full scope of your injury. “You are going to need stitches. I’m going to cut your pants and then clean you up.”

You nod wordlessly at her, your eyes screwed shut. You had hoped that you would not need stitches. Needles are a big fear of yours. You never wanted one near you whether it was to help or harm you. A wild fear to have as a dragon rider, honestly.

Xaden’s hand covers yours, now fisting the sheets. You jump as he softly squeezes your fingers. “What’s wrong?” You open your eyes for the first time since the healer looked at you.

Taking a deep breath you give Xaden a reluctant look. Your cheeks flush bright red in embarrassment. Good Gods, how do you confess your stupid fear of needles to one of the toughest people you know. “Y/n, it’s ok. You can tell me.” Xaden reassures.

“Promise you won’t make fun of me.” You say sternly. Xaden holds out his pinky, “I swear I won’t.”

You give him a small nod. “I don’t like needles. I’ve never had stitches before and I’m terrified.” You hold Xaden’s stare for a long moment. Xaden gives your hand another reassuring squeeze, folding between both of his hands. The roughness of his palms rubbing against the smoothness of the back of your hand felt comforting.

“The Healer will put some numbing salve on your skin. It takes a few minutes for it to work, then you’ll barely feel it. And if you can, squeeze my hand if it hurts.” You blink at Xaden, surprised he is being supportive.

“Thank you,” you murmur, looking down at your lap. The Healer comes back with the supplies and starts applying the salve, just like Xaden said. When you saw the needle you tensed up, your eyes as wide as saucers.

“Relax,” Xaden whispers. Your eyes water as you look at him again. Xaden sits next to you, wrapping his arm around you, letting your head rest on his shoulder. The needle pricks your skin, the Healer working quickly.

You feel the needle every few passes. You squeeze Xaden’s hand, praying this ends soon.

“All done.” The Healer says, covering the stitches with a bandage.

Xaden gently kisses the top of your head. “Good job, y/n/n.” He whispers sweetly. A furious blush rising to your cheeks.

#fourth wing #fourth wing fic #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing x you #fourth wing xaden #xaden fourth wing #xaden riorson #xaden riorson imagine #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson fic #xaden riorson x you #xaden fanfic #xaden x reader #xaden x you #xaden fluff

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edges-of-night · 9 months ago

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I’m so happy you’re back I adore your writing! I wanted to request one where the reader comforts the lotr characters after they have a nightmare💕

Thanks love

This is a sweet request, anon! It turned out a bit angsty, at least in parts... I hope you’ll enjoy the read ♡

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn frequently dreams of Narsil, Isildur, and the shadows of his ancestors. Those nightmares leave him distraught and at first even disoriented. It takes you a while to get through to him with soft Elven whispers and gentle hands to steady him. When you do, he does calm and holds onto your hand tight and keeps mumbling weakly, “Meleth nín…”

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Nightmares are worse for Elves than Men, due to their gift of foresight which amplifies the bad things they see in their dreams. The dark future Arwen sees at night haunts her during the daylight, too, but you are there to hold her hands and offer a shoulder to cry on. While she won’t lose hope easily, the shock in Arwen’s heart is deep every time.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir won’t tell you about his nightmares until he would start crying one morning, seemingly out of the blue. You are there to comfort him with a gentle hand on his back and all the silence he needs to collect himself, before finally opening up about his fears and the nightmares they conjured. “At least I have the certainty you would not think less of me, knowing what you know now…”

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

You wake by Elrond’s side when his nightmare punches him out of sleep. For long, terrible moments, he was back amidst the fires of Mount Doom, desperate lungs filled with poison smoke and disbelieving eyes on Isildur’s back. Now you can provide him with air and water to bring him back to the cool calm of Rivendell.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

It has taken you far too long to wake poor Éomer from his nightmare. His feverish, sweaty, desperate face would have broken your heart had it lasted any longer. But war leaves its invisible wounds, and Éomer wasn’t spared. He holds onto you for dear life as if he was only half-way back to reality, but you tell him everything would be all right.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

Upon waking her from her nightmare, Éowyn draws her sword at you, staring you down with a fury you have never seen in her usually so kind eyes before. You back away slowly, speaking softly to bring her back to reality and away from whatever has been haunting her. When she recognises you, Éowyn bursts into tears, hiding her face. “Oh, forgive me! Forgive me, love…!”

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

Childhood trauma has often kept Faramir awake, but creeping its way into his dreams was even worse. When he wakes, he needs only seconds to reorientate himself, but would then cover his mouth to not wake you with his sobs. You, of course, are not bothered but concerned by what you hear and offer Faramir to spend the night awake with him until he would fall asleep in your arms as you watch the sunrise.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo tosses and turns in his sleep with big sighs and sobs which eventually wake you up. You know that Frodo isn’t an easy sleeper, but his nightmare phases still shock you anew every time. You gently wake him up to tell him everything was fine, and at first Frodo genuinely seems relieved. However, you know that the following hours won’t be easy for him, so you keep supporting him with kind words and his favourite tea, taking it easy all day.

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Nightmares are so rare for Galadriel that she has no way of dealing with them. They bring tempests not only to her heart but Lórien, too. You stay with her throughout and guide her back to the light in the days afterwards. She is weak but leans on you for incorrigible support. Thanks to your care, closeness, and words of affirmation, the Lady of Light can return to her normal life.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf’s nightmare has summoned thunder and lightning, keeping you from sleeping. When you try to deliver him from whatever evils keep chasing him, a magical fire flames up. When you try to touch Gandalf’s shoulder again, it diminishes, and you manage to wake him up. The storm is gone almost in an instant, and Gandalf’s face is as soft and friendly as ever. He won’t talk about his nightmare right away.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

One night, you would hear quiet sobs next to you and realise Gimli was crying in his sleep. He would not wake up easy when you pat his shoulder or caress his arm, but eventually his eyes would open and he’d meet yours with a sad and tired gaze. Perhaps he would like to talk to you about his nightmares of Moria’s fall at a later point, but for now, he is content with you letting him cry without judgement, stroking and kissing his hair gently.

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

Out of fear of giving others leverage against him, Haldir won’t tell anyone of his horrible nightmares. Since your sleep has always been light though, you notice very soon that something is wrong with dear Haldir. While he would deny your offers of comfort rather coldly at first, he eventually asks you to simply listen to his sorrows so that they no longer weigh down his heart. You know how bad the sentiment is for Elves, so you thank him genuinely for sharing it with you.

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

As with all Elves, nightmares are poison to Legolas due to his Elven abilities. Darkness and terror spread in his heart, and it will take him weeks to recover. You are always there to hug and kiss him – physical touch is what comforts poor Legolas the most in these times. He is as restless as ever, but you remind him that he is safe with you. “Indeed, there no fortress in this world where I would be more secure than in your arms, my love.”

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry always tries rationalising his nightmares, to the point where he won’t allow himself to be vulnerable and let his fear sink in. That is where you can help your poor Hobbit the most: by reminding him that you will always be there for him, no matter if it’s the middle of the night and some random “nonsense darkening his mind”. You sit down with him by a fire and talk about it all.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

After nightmares, Pippin is often still scared for a longer time. After helping him calm down, you make sure to light as many candles and lamps as possible. Food is also a good comfort for Pippin, which has led you to make strawberry sandwiches at three in the morning twice already. To ground himself further, Pippin would also sometimes sing to you quietly.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam’s nightmares are intense but thankfully leave as quickly as they come. He usually sleeps well whenever he is with you, and you comforting him after a traumatic dream reminds him why: You take him seriously, sometimes more than he himself does, and don’t ridicule the encounters of his nightmares. Cuddles and a bit of talking usually do the trick, and the two of you fall asleep again soon ♡

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deliquesaint · 5 months ago

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im in LOVE with that drawing of anakin in chains please let us see him with that muzzle on pls pls pls pls pls

OOPS MY HAND SLIPPED 😵‍💫

Being chained and unable to speak would probably bring back bad memories of being a slave. Especially if you leave him in isolation for hours on end so he exhausts his anger and lets the childhood trauma start seeping back in...

a bonus one

BARK BARK

and thanks for the kind words anon 💕 i didnt know if id be able to achieve this request cos its my first time drawing a muzzle and a character growling, but i hope i managed alright!

#obikin #i think anakin would find it humiliating to be punished in front of obi-wan the most #having obiwan see him at his weakest when he's always wanted his approval #worse if he starts regressing into childhood patterns #or fears he will under his master's gaze #star wars #anakin skywalker

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bloomseishiro · 28 days ago

Note

Heyyy! Got a request if you’re taking! 🤞 So, Rin x Reader 🔥

They fight, Reader goes to a party to chill. Bestie sees her crying, comforts her, then teases Rin by giving Reader a fake hickey with makeup and calls Rin to pick her up, saying Reader’s tipsy. Rin freaks out, rushes over feelin’ guilty. On the way home, Rin spots the hickey, gets mad jealous. Reader pretends it’s real — Rin gets all possessive, kisses her rough in the car. Finds out it’s fake but can’t stop himself. Ends with some intense car vibes — jealousy, love, and pure need. 😈💋🔥

Also, LOVE your fics!! 😍 Your writing’s such a vibe, always brightens my day! Keep doing you and take care, okay? 💖✨💯 Sending lots of good vibes! 😘💕

BAD IDEA, RIGHT? — ITOSHI RIN

౨ৎ — you get into a fight with rin and your best friend comes up with an idea for revenge. no one said it was a good idea…especially not rin when he spots a giant hickey on your neck.

itoshi rin x fem!reader. established relationship, sexual tension, suggestive content, 18+, mdni, no smut just rough make out sesh, fluff, alc consumption, this is lowkey toxic HAHAH but i support women’s wrongs <3, reader and bestie have like one collective brain cell, possessive!rin mmm yummy, wrote this with college au in mind !!

word count. 2.2k

a/n. ANON U DESERVE A MILLION COOKIES FOR THIS IDEA HEHE i love it sm i hope you enjoy!! and thank u sooo much for ur kind words <3 it means a lot to me!! ^-^ i hope you take care too and lots of love my dear nonnie xoxo

Fighting with your boyfriend sucks, but getting caught sobbing at a party sucks even worse. Mainly because you know strangers will see and talk about you as “that one sad girl from last night.”

You only solace is that your best friend spots you crying the moment she enters the room and rushes to your side immediately, eyes wide with worry.

“What’s wrong?” she cries, shoving open a closed bedroom door and ushering you inside and away from the crowds. “Don’t tell me some asshole dared to lay a finger on you—”

Fervently, you shake your head. “No, nothing like that. Don’t worry.”

She frowns. “If it’s not that, then what is it?”

Sighing, you plop down on the edge of the bed, hoping whatever frat guy’s room you’re in has washed his sheets recently. “Rin and I are fighting,” you mope. “And now he’s not talking to me.”

“What a jerk!” your best friend exclaims, always ready to take your side no matter the reason.

You crack a smile at the way she jumps to your defense. “It’s just so frustrating because he never apologizes first after an argument. And this time, I don’t want to be the one to! So now, we’re just in a stalemate because he’s so stubborn.”

“Men are idiots,” she says with an eye roll. “Lucky for you, I know the perfect way to get Rin to cave. He’ll realize just how much he’s missing!”

Eying her warily, you can’t help but ask, “What exactly are you thinking…?”

She grins evilly, taking her purse off her shoulder and pulling out a little makeup pouch. Shuffling through the contents, she makes a noise of satisfaction as she pulls out a mini eyeshadow palette and a reddish purple lipstick.

Confused, you tilt your head to the side. “You’re going to do my makeup?”

“Sure… Something like that.”

You blink.

“Come here and give me your neck!” she says impatiently. “I’m going to give you a fake hickey. We’re going to make Rin so jealous he grovels for just a crumb of your attention.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” you say worriedly, touching your collarbone and glancing at the makeup in your best friend’s hands.

She simply shrugs, as if she put no further thought into this so-called plan. “Not sure. Guess we’ll find out!”

You didn’t drink much tonight (alcohol and sadness would only create even more embarrassing tears), but just the proximity of alcohol must’ve dulled your brain cells even more, since you decided to agree. “Well, okay. Why not?”

With a wide smile, she gets to work, expertly applying eyeshadows and lip gloss until it looks like there’s a fresh new hickey on the side of your neck.

Taking a step back, she admires her work with a proud sniffle. “Wow. Looks better than any of the hickeys I’ve gotten.”

“Maybe you need to make out with better people,” you giggle, thinking about how Rin’s hickeys look much better than this fake one. Feel better, too.

“Ugh, whatever,” she scoffs playfully. “Not everyone can have a hot as shit and slightly psychotic boyfriend who hates everyone except his girlfriend.”

Her description makes you laugh before you remember your fight and how he still isn’t talking to you. Suddenly, your shoulders slump as you pout. “What if he hates me now, too?”

“He doesn’t! He’s so obsessed with you, babe,” she promises sincerely, giving you a hug. “He’s just a little stupid and stubborn! Here, give me your phone.”

You eye her questioningly but oblige nonetheless.

With your phone in hand, your best friend unlocks the screen and calls Rin.

“Hey!” you protest, but she puts her finger to her lips the moment he picks up.

“Hello?” he mumbles, sounding tired. It is almost midnight, after all. Rin was probably trying to sleep.

“Hey, Rin!” your friend sings.

Rin stays silent and you hear shuffling noises coming from his side of the line, likely him realizing he wasn’t on the phone with you. “What do you want?”

“Y/N’s, like, sooo tipsy right now,” she says, pretending to slur her words as well. “We’re at a party because, you know, you made her all depressed after your fight, but I think you need to come pick her up now…”

You hear the sound of a door opening and a car unlocking.

“I’m on my way,” he says as the engine revs in the background. “Please watch her until I get there.”

The phone beeps as the call ends and your best friend looks at you smugly.

“What?” you ask her, raising your brow.

“Told you he loves you. He even answered on the first ring!”

Your cheeks heat up as you look to the floor, shrugging. “Yeah,” you say quietly.

“But, you can’t forgive him just yet!” she scolds. “You have to pretend you're drunk and then he’ll see your hickey and get super jealous and regret what he did even more.”

“Or he could get mad and think I cheated and break up with me,” you try to reason.

She shakes her head. “Nah. He wouldn’t…” she trails off, suddenly unsure. “Well, maybe taking a few shots first would help?”

Your brain is, once again, telling you this is not a great idea. But, once again, you choose to ignore it. “Yeah, probably.”

With a grin, she leads you out of the room and back to the party where the two of you begin to take shot after shot. Not enough to get too fucked up, of course, but enough to think maybe your best friend’s idea is amazing after all.

But the time Rin arrives, the statement that you’re “sooo tipsy right now” is no longer a lie. In fact, as Rin’s car pulls up into the driveway, you all but stumble into his arms while your best friend winks goodbye.

“Hey, Rinnie,” you drawl, a careless grin on your face.

“Hey,” he replies quietly, looking you up and down with concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Just peachy!” you chirp as you enter the passenger seat of his car. “Just a little dizzy. And I want fries…”

He exhales through his nose before getting into the driver’s seat and starting his car. “Okay, we can stop by somewhere before heading to my place. How much did you drink?”

“Not too much,” you promise, leaning sideways against the car window and closing your eyes at the lightheaded feeling that rushes through you. “Just…enough.”

“Enough?” repeats Rin with a snort, glancing over at you for a brief second.

In that one moment, you notice his mood change as he abruptly pulls the car over to the side of the road.

You open your eyes at the jolt of inertia and your confused gaze meets Rin’s pissed off face. And by pissed off, you really do mean angry as shit.

“What is that?” he asks, barely able to control the tone of his voice.

You bolt upright with worry, not yet realizing what he’s talking about. “What?” you ask with wide eyes.

His eyes darken and his glare zeroes in on your collarbone. “That thing on your neck,” he spits. “Is that a fucking hickey?”

Realization crashes over you like a wave and you temporarily feel the alcohol evaporate from your body. What the hell were you and your best friend thinking again? “Oh, shit.”

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” he asks incredulously.

You shake your head. “No! Well, I mean, it’s just…” as you begin to explain yourself, you hear your friend's voice in the back of your head telling you this is the best way to make Rin grovel after your fight. Pushing aside your guilty conscience (and your last thread of logic and rationality), you bite your tongue and nod. “Yeah. I didn’t think you would care. It’s not like you’ve even talked to me the last two days.”

Rin grits his teeth and unbuckles his seatbelt to face you fully, leaning over to your side of the car with an annoyed expression. “Didn’t think I care?”

You shrug, trying not to give in.

“You know damn well I care,” he barks out, reaching out to brush the side of your neck, his touch is gentle but his fingers tremble, as if he’s holding himself back from snapping by a single thread. “Just because we’re in the middle of a fight doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

Biting the corner of your lower lip, you swallow and remain silent.

“It doesn’t matter how bad our fight is. No one is allowed to touch you like that,” Rin warns, placing his large hand on the nape of your neck and guiding you towards him. “If I ever see someone else’s mark on you again, I won’t be so patient next time.”

Your stomach churns with a mixture of dread and excitement. “What will you do?” you prompt, voice catching in your throat.

“Murder them,” he says simply. “And punish you.”

With a sharp inhale, you make a mental note to send your best friend a giant thank you basket for the fake hickey.

Before you can open your mouth to reply, Rin’s patience snaps as he grabs your chin and lifts it up until your lips clash against his. Your eyes widen in surprise at the sudden movement before your shoulders relax as the familiar scent of Rin fills your senses.

He presses himself deeper into the kiss, nipping roughly at your plush bottom lip as his hand trails down from your chin to your neck. His warm, calloused hand lingers at the base of your neck for a few seconds too long before he lazily trails down your breasts and stomach, stopping only to grab at your waist and pull you tight against his body.

You arch your back as his grip on you tightens, urging your body to feel every inch of Rin that you possibly can. Your hands find their way around his neck, intertwining your fingers through his hair.

“Mmm,” you moan when you feel the teasing wetness of his tongue lick the spot he just bit. “Is this supposed to be a punishment?”

“No,” he murmurs in between kisses, slowly pulling away from your lips to trail his hot, wet mouth against your jaw and down to the spot on your neck behind your ear. “This is just to show you how much better it is with me.”

You feel a shiver shoot down your spine as Rin begins to toy with the most sensitive spot of your neck, nipping and sucking and licking until you’re a squirming mess on his passenger seat.

“That dumbass didn’t even give you a hickey in your favorite place,” he says mockingly, teasingly biting the lobe of your ear once he was satisfied with the mark he made. “How embarrassing.”

You whine as he caresses your ear so gently, it tickles.

“You’re mine,” growls Rin under his breath. “No one can make you feel as good as I do. Isn’t that right, baby?”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you make a pathetic noise of agreement.

You feel Rin smirk against your skin before he pulls away and lets you catch your breath. At this distance, he manages to take a look at your so-called hickey, brows furrowing when he notices how smudged it’s become.

“What—?” his words break off, taking a look at his fingertips that now had purple and red eyeshadow and lipgloss on it. “Y/N… What the hell is this?”

At his confused and helpless expression, you can’t help but stifle the giggle that escapes you.

His crease between his brows crinkle even more at your lack of explanation.

“I’m sorry, Rinnie,” you relent after releasing all your laughter. “No one gave me a hickey at the party. My friend knew we were fighting and we wanted to get back at you.” Touching the mess on your neck, you wipe it away with the back of your hand. “It’s just makeup.”

“Makeup,” he deadpans.

You nod sheepishly. “Makeup…” you repeat, showing him the eyeshadow smeared on you. “No matter how bad of a fight we’re in, I would never do that to you, Rin.”

He notices your tone switch from playful to genuine and he looks up at you with a serious expression on his face. “Good. I can’t play soccer professionally if I get arrested for murdering the person who gives you a hickey.”

“The only person that would be is yourself,” you promise with a grin, fingers instrinctly grazing the sensitive love bite he just made. “You’re the only person I want kissing my neck, anyway.”

“The smartest thing you’ve said all day,” says Rin dryly, placing another kiss on your jaw. “Still, your punishment for that stupid prank isn’t over.”

“It’s not?”

He shakes his head slowly, darkened eyes trained on you with a half-lidded gaze. “Hasn’t even started.”

Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of the heat between the two of you fogging up his car windows. With the heavy breathing and hot touches, it’s no wonder the temperature around you rose. Add in the alcohol that is still lingering in your system, and it’s a recipe for a volcanic eruption.

His fingers cup your cheek and they brush sensually against your soft skin. You lean in, anticipating another kiss when he pulls away with a laugh.

You whine and pout, but it only adds fuel to Rin’s cruel satisfaction.

“Let’s get you some fries first.”

#🌸.writings #🌸.bloom after dark #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #rin x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #blue lock #bllk #bllk fanfic #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #rin itoshi x you #rin x you #itoshi rin x you #bllk x y/n

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uki01 · 4 months ago

Note

Hi, hi!

I wanted to make a sonic headcanon request, though I wasn’t sure if you had a character limit, so feel free to only do however many you’re good with.

So this does involve alcohol, but in a fluffy way and you probably know where I’m going with this. So a drunk!reader doesn’t recognize their partner and interacts with them along the lines of “back off, I have a boyfriend/girlfriend/partner!” or “you’re cute, but not nearly as cute as my boyfriend/girlfriend/partner. They’re the absolute best!” It could be one or both.

I was thinking this with Sonic, Shadow, Knuckles, Silver, and Rouge. Of course, if you can’t do it for all of them, no hard feelings 😉.

Anyway, keep up the great work, but don’t forget to stay hydrated and take breaks 💕💖

”Loyal, even when Tipsy.”

Sonic The Hedgehog, Shadow The Hedgehog, Knuckles The Echidna, Silver The Hedgehog and Rouge The Bat x Drunk!Reader

Author’s Note: Thank you for your kind words and of course I can do all them! I hope your doing well to Anon 🫶🏽❤️!

Sonic The Hedgehog

You and Sonic were invited to a party from one of your guys friends.

Sonic was practically bouncing with joy while you were trying to get ready.

Once you guys were there, Sonic was immediately showered with praise since he was the ‘Sonic The Hedgehog’.

You rolled your eyes at this, when you were about to get something, Sonic dragged you in because he loves to brag about you a lot.

Sonic loves the attention, you? Not so much but couldn’t do anything.

So you had to smile and wave, just smile and wave.

There we’re a couple drinks, Sonic gave you a smirk while you shook your head no.

Then Sonic decided to be a smug bastard and gives you the puppy look.

You groaned and took one drink, then a second one, then a third one, then a fourth one, then a- you already know the rest.

One of Michael Jackson’s songs came up and you dragged Sonic to dance with you since your very tipsy and wanted to dance.

Sonic laughed at this and indulged in it.

Tonight was so much fun, with Sonic spending his time with his boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, his friends and music.

When it was time to go, Sonic tapped you on the shoulder and tried to hold your hand but you slapped it away.

This left Sonic in shock and confusion, as he tried again you slapped it again.

This was getting on Sonic’s nerves.

“Babe what the heck?!” He asked until you said this.

”Go away! I am already taken by Sonic! Sonic The Hedgehog!” You blurted out, or as much since your wasted.

He was amused by this, he tried again but you denied it again.

”Babe come on, it’s your handsome and awesome boyfriend, Sonic.”

”Dude if you keep trying to flirt with me, I’ll get Sonic over here, and he won’t hesitate to kick your ass!” You blurted out at Sonic.

Sonic laughed at this but deep down his heart was deeply touched and so happy that you are very loyal to him.

He never doubted you before but just seeing you in a tipsy state and still stayed loyal made his heart fluttered.

He then carried you when you passed out, saying goodbye to your friends.

While he’s running with you in his arms in bridal style, he looked at your waste sleepy face, he smiled and gave you a kiss on the forehead.

”Your the best Y/N, I hope you know that, I love you babe.”

Shadow The Hedgehog

So we all know that Shadow isn’t really a party person.

So when you both were invited to Sonic’s party, he immediately said no.

But you gave him the puppy look which made him groan and told you he’ll be ready in a few minutes.

Hell yeah.

Once you two were ready and made it to the party, Sonic welcomed you both in.

You were pretty excited while Shadow wasn’t but he did it for you.

He didn’t really trust the drinks at first since he knows what alcohol can do to you but you reassured him that you’ll be fine.

He sighed and gave in, but he watched you intently making sure you didn’t hurt or throw up in the process.

When one of Sabrina Carpenter’s songs came up, you immediately dragged Shadow to the dance floor because you knew how much he loved her.

With a few nos, he gave in and started dancing with you.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he genuinely had a great time with you with the music, dancing and chatter.

When it was time to go, Shadow went to tap you in the shoulder but you slapped it away.

This made Shadow confused but his face with a scowl.

He tried again but you slapped it again.

This made Shadow pissed off as he forced you to turn away.

”Y/N, what the hell are you doing.” He scowled at you but he got his answer.

”Can you stop it! I already have a hot boyfriend name Shadow so buzzzz off buddy!” You slurred out to him.

This left Shadow confused as he tried to tell you he’s right here. But you didn’t budge.

”Y/N, I am right here, it’s me, Shadow.”

”Noo no no no, you aren’t you faakerrr! Please stop bugging me unless you want to get kicked in the face.” You crossed your arms and turned away from Shadow, or well tried considering your tipsy state.

Shadow found this strange but amusing, but he was really touched that you valued him a lot even your tipsy state.

Just like he values you a lot too.

He then picked you up once you passed out and left the party.

When he was skating he saw your sleepy state and gave you a kiss on the forehead.

”You are very idiotic Y/N, but… you’re very sweet and special to me too, I love you my love.”

Knuckles The Echidna

We’ll know Knuckles, lacks social skills.

Doesn’t even know how he even had a chance to be with you but he shows pride in it.

So when you and Knuckles are invited by Sonic to go to his party, Knuckles doesn’t get the gist of the concept of ‘party’.

You explain it to him which he doesn’t get still but understands the importance of it.

And since he never really left Angel Island and was dedicated to it his whole life, you wanted him to come along so he can have some fun and relax.

If it makes you happy, then he will do it, anything that makes you happy is worth it to him.

Once you two make it there, Knuckles mainly sticks around with you since he has no idea what to do.

When he sees the drinks with alcohol in them, he asks what are they to which you explain what they are.

He doesn’t really like the idea of getting tipsy to the point you can’t even remember but you convince him that it’s fine which he takes a moment but accepts it.

When one of Lizzo’s songs come on, Knuckles gets dragged by you to dance with him which he happily does.

You two are the best dancers there.

Knuckles genuinely had so much fun with you at this party.

But now it was getting late so he decided to tap you but you slapped it away.

Left Knuckles confused, he tapped again but no avail, only met with a slap to his fists.

Confused by this and tries to ask you.

”Dear? Is there something I’ve done to upset you?” Knuckles asked but only met with this.

”Don’t call me that! Only my boyfriend Knuckles can so go away! I am taken!” You slurred out to him.

This left Knuckles even more confused as he tries to tell you he’s here.

”But Dear I am standing right here?” He said.

”No you aren’t Knuckles stop pretending to be him!” You dismissed him “If you want to get punched in the face by my strong warrior boyfriend! Be my guest! Since you can’t mind your own business that I am taken by him!” You slurred.

You then tried calling Knuckles’s name. This left him even more confused but touched that you never betrayed him.

He’s been betrayed before a quite few times so you saying this while in a state where you have no clue what’s happening left him comforted and loved.

Sonic explained why your acting like this which made more sense to Knuckles.

Knuckles picks you up in bridal style and takes you home while saying goodbye to Sonic and them.

Soon as you two left, he kisses your cheek and says this to you while you are passed out.

”I am very honoured to have someone like you by my side, thank you dear, I love you.”

Silver The Hedgehog

Silver who is another person that lacks social skills.

And you can’t blame him either, he lives in a damaged and terrible future which gave him no childhood, friends and family being gone or anything whatsoever.

So when you are invited by your friends to go to their party, you decided to get Silver to tag along so he can relax.

But of course, he doesn’t know what a party is as you explain to him what it is and he gets it.

He decides to go since you’ll be there and it will make you happy if he tags along.

Once he is there, he doesn’t really make any conversation with anyone except for you and you never pushed him to go into one or away.

Once you two saw the drinks with alcohol, Silver asked you what are they.

You explained to him the concept of alcohol and right off the bat, he doesn’t like the sound of it.

But you told him it’s fine, so you drank some while he kept an eye on you.

When one of Tyler, The Creator’s songs came on, you dragged Silver to the dance floor which made him anxious but you eased up his worries and danced with

Silver had such a fun time with you and loved seeing you happy.

When it was time to head home, he tapped your shoulder but was met with a slap.

Silver was confused and anxious when you did that.

What did he do? Did he do something wrong?

He tried again but you only slapped it again.

This left him worried and scared.

”Angel, what‘s wrong what did I do?” Silver asked worriedly, this answer his question.

”What your doing wrong is touching me, don’t touch me I am already taken by my cute boyfriend named Silver! So back offf!” You managed to get it out.

This left Silver very confused and with a bit of anxiety as he tries to tell you he’s right here.

”Y/N it’s me Silver, I’m right here.” He awkwardly says hoping for you to understand.

You didn’t.

”Nuh uh! Stop pretending to be him, so go away before he throws you out with his cool telekinetic powers! Where is that cute face of his.” You said.

Silver was left with his face blushing and his heart deeply touched, you still stayed loyal to him.

Never doubted you but knowing the state your in made him even more happy.

As he carries you as you finally passed out, your friends explained why you were acting like that towards him and Silver understands.

Once he said his goodbyes to your friends and left with you in his arms in bridal style.

He kisses your forehead and looks at you lovingly.

”You are one of the best people to ever happen to me Angel, I love you so much Y/N.”

Rouge The Bat

Rouge was invited from one of her friends to go to a party.

She was excited and decided to drag you to come with her, you didn’t have a choice so you just let it happen.

Once you two were ready, you two strut at the party like a bunch of celebrities.

You and Rouge then started drinking along with the rest of her friends and it was fun.

Then one of Camila Cabello’s songs came up and you and Rouge already started dancing to it.

Ugh, you two are such divas 💜.

Rouge has the best time of her life, hanging out with her beautiful partner and amazing friends with few drink, dancing and music.

When it was time to go, Rouge was about to pick you up until you slapped her away.

This made Rouge shocked but also annoyed that you just slapped her.

She tried again but left with a slap again.

Rouge was annoyed with you and tried to get you to answer.

”Y/N, is that really how you treat your lady?” Rouge huffed. But met with this.

”You aren’t being fair when you are touching me! I am already taken by my lovely girlfriend, Rouge!” You managed to get out at Rouge.

Rouge’s face turned sour then to an amused face.

She decided to humour you.

”Y/N, it’s me your beautiful and darling girlfriend, Rouge.” She said with a bit of flirt in there.

”Stop trying to be her, you aren’t my gorgeous girlfriend, go away before she finds you and takes you out herself!” You huffed.

Rouge laughed at this, as much as she teases this she is deeply touched and happy that even in your tipsy state, you stayed loyal to her.

She is genuinely grateful to have you as her partner.

As you passed out, she waved goodbye to her friends and flies off with you in her arms in bridal style.

She looks at you lovingly and kisses your cheek.

”You truly are the best treasure anyone can have Y/N, I love you so much darling.”

Author’s Note: I loved doing this request this was so much fun to do! Thank you so much for requesting this!

#sonic the hedgehog x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #knuckles the echidna x reader #silver the hedgehog x reader #rouge the bat x reader #sonic x reader #shadow x reader #knuckles x reader #silver x reader #rouge x reader #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #knuckles the echidna #silver the hedgehog #rouge the bat #sth #sonic fandom #sonic universe

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hughiecampbelle · 7 months ago

Text

The Boys Preference: Public Displays of Affection

Requested: Heeyy, love your writing! I wanted to request a preference with the boys + HM and SB about how they would be with PDA. Thank youuu 💚💚💚💚 - anon

A/N: Thank you for requesting my love!! I hope you like it! This was so cute to imagine omg :D Feedback is always appreciated 💕

Butcher is allllllll about PDA. Most of the time, it includes a hand on your ass, but he's not against more of the innocent touches. To make a point, he'll kiss you pretty passionately, making sure the person who was hitting on you knows you're together. He's all about touching and being close. He doesn't even realize he's doing it. He just sort of gravitates towards you when you're together. He's really possessive and protective, and it just comes out through PDA. He's not big with words. He might call you "love," but he's far more comfortable with physical affection than anything else. Everyone groans or makes jokes about the PDA between you two, but neither of you care. He says they're jealous, and that makes you smile. Maybe it can be a bit much sometimes, but you know it's just because he cares, he worries, and he needs you close. When you're afraid or worried or just tired of this life, the PDA can be a huge comfort. It reminds you, you have Butcher. That, through it all, you'll always have him. He'll be your constant even through the hardship.

Hughie can be pretty shy with PDA. He really loves hand holding and playing with your fingers, but that's about as far as it'll go. Hughies pretty awkward when it comes to relationships and PDA. He's also really shy and awfully aware anything could make you uncomfortable. He never wants to step over the line, so he sticks to the most innocent forms. When he's scared or worried, he'll instinctively reach out and squeeze your hand. That's when you know this life is getting to him. You squeeze back, neither of you looking at one another, but using these moments to reassure one another wordlessly. You're never the first to let go. If or when he's okay again he'll let go, but you never want to leave him alone with his fears when he's feeling overwhelmed. Whatever kinds of affections Hughie shares are cherished. He's so shy with his love, so careful, it makes it so much more special when he does decide to show off a little.

Annie isn't as shy as Hughie, but she definitely knows what she can and cannot do. Because she's a public figure, she wants to do everything in her power to keep you safe. Homelanders allies and fans will do anything to hurt her and, by association, you. You've gone to a few red carpets together, but since she's stepped back from The Seven, her PDA has changed a lot. She used to pose for pictures with you and kiss you in public and now it's a lot more subdued. She'll hold your hand, but she scared if she did anything more, Homelander and Firecrackers fans would come after you. Not to mention the paparazzi that still follow her (and you) around on occasion. She loves you, of course she does, but she doesn't want your name dragged through the mud because you're in a relationship with her. Not that she listens to it, but she's heard from coworkers that Misty, on her show, talks shit about you and your relationship together. She wants to do everything in her power to protect you.

M.M. doesn't really "do" PDA. He has nothing against it. It's just not something he partakes in for a variety of reasons. The biggest is safety. He might not be in the limelight like Annie, but this life is dangerous, and it puts a target on your back when others know you're important to someone. If any Supe ever found out that he cared for you, and that got you hurt, he'd never forgive himself. Another reason is that he doesn't love constant contact. His hands get sweaty, and he's never sure if it's the right moment (because something is always going wrong - is there ever a good moment?), so it's just easier to avoid. He's affectionate with words, often calming you down or reminding you how much you mean to him, but the physical aspect just isn't something you do as a couple. Of course, he'll always hug you and make sure you're okay, but that's about as far as it goes. Neither of you is big on PDA, so it's not a big deal. He just wants to keep you safe. You're in enough danger as it is, he doesn't need Homelander or a Supe seeing him holding your hand, kissing you, etc. That puts an extra target on your back. If anything ever happened to you because of your relationship he'd never forgive himself.

Frenchie can go either way. When he's got something on his mind, when he's feeling particularly bad or guilty or ashamed about his past, he pulls away from PDA. He isolates himself from you. Not because he blames you or anything, but because he doesn't think he's deserving of your love or affection. When he's feeling less self-deprecating, he's all about PDA. It can hurt when he pulls away, but he makes it clear you have done nothing wrong. It's a cycle he follows where he pulls away, retreats into himself, only to understand you're hurt by his actions, and comes back at full force. It's not a short cycle. You often have a lot of time together full of affection. It's when it starts over that makes you feel like you've done something wrong, said something to make him feel bad. Frenchie feels horrible when he realizes what he's done, but he just can't bring himself to stop it. It definitely creates issues in your relationship. He never meant to do this, it's just something that he feels he has to do as a way of repenting.

Kimiko can be pretty shy with PDA. You're her first official relationship. You're both unsure, a little awkward, and shy. You never want to cross her boundaries or make her feel uncomfortable. There's a lot of communication between you. It's actually pretty sweet, genuinely innocent. The first time you grabbed her hand for reassurance, scared of Homelander and the future, you apologized after. She just smiles and tells you she liked it. It was surprising, but not in a bad way. It's one of your go-to's: holding her hand. Occasionally, when you're feeling more carefree, you'll hug her from behind and kiss her cheek. Your friends all poke fun at you for being so shy around one another. They could all tell you liked one another. One of you just had to build up enough courage to tell your feelings. As time goes on, you and Kimiko become more comfortable, allowing yourselves to be more affectionate in the open. When you're separated and end up together again, she's always eager to hug you, hold you, and check for any injuries.

Bonus! Homelander is all about PDA as long as the cameras are rolling and the crowds are cheering. It's nothing against you. It's not as if he's done with you when the curtains close. He's stressed out and angry and dealing with so much, mainly Butcher and The Boys. He doesn't really think about PDA outside of the public eye. It's a stark juxtaposition you have to learn to get used to. He's so loving and sweet and kind when you're being interviewed. As soon as it's over, his smile drops, and he becomes his upset, distant self again. The first time it happened, you felt wounded. Did he hate you? Was it all just an act? When he notices this, he assures you it had nothing to do with you. He's just stressed. It's not easy being the leader of The Secen nor is it easy keeping Vought together when it seems like everything is falling apart and everyone is a complete fucking idiot. It's not about you or the way he feels about you, it's just how things have to be.

Bonus! Soldier Boy's PDA borders on vulgarity. He's always got his hands or lips on you. When he loves, he loves with his whole being. That means serious make out sessions in front of people who assumed you were single or his arm around your waist, showing everyone that you're together. He gets insanely jealous over the smallest looks, the most innocent of comments. He can bet pretty handsy and, at times, go a bit overboard to the point of being inappropriate for most viewers. When you're around The Boys, they're pretty vocal about your PDA and will cut it off if they think you've gone too far. Ben can't help it. You're his everything. He makes sure everyone knows that you're his everything. That you're with him. He also loves the more PG13 touches like hand holding or hugging. He's constantly touching you one way or another. It brings him a lot of comfort knowing you're around, close by, that you're there for him no matter what.

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truelotus · 4 months ago

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hiiii!! 🪻anon again!! hope you’ve been doing well!

I need more yan! byakuya hcs or oneshot (which ever you’d like to do obvi) please you write him so well 😭😭

thank you 💕💕

a/n: omg hey 🪻anon <3 I hope you’re doing well and tysm for this request, if you have something to request theres no need to ask specific things:) if you prefer hc’s or a oneshot lmk!! AND THANK YOU I hope these hc’s were good 😭

Enjoy!

Yandere! Byakuya Kuchiki x reader

Format : Head canons

Warnings : none

˚₊· ͟͟͞��➳❥ Byakuya—being the man he is— has a calm, composed and elegant demeanor. But deep within that, reveals a deep obsession towards you. And when I say this man is obsessed with you, he really is obsessed with you. He keeps a close eye on you, whenever you’re around and even when he is not around he will do his best to keep an eye out for you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ On missions, He will send one of his own men to stand in the shadows. He will order them to jot down the men who interact with you and how’d they interact with you, if he so finds out that a man was flirting with you while on your way to a mission, Byakuya would take matters into his own hands..

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Byakuya will find any excuse just to touch you, even if it is the littlest touch. Your skin is beautiful and soft to him, he just can’t get enough of it.. he needs to be in contact with you all the time. For example, he’ll say that you have a hair in your face—when you really don’t— he’ll “move the hair away” and his hands would be lingering on your skin much longer than it needed to be. He’ll then take that moment to place a small kiss on the temple of your head.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Another example of him wanting to feel your touch, it would be when he is doing his paperwork. He’ll ask you to braid his precious locks, ask you to give him a massage, ask to hold your hand with his free one and other.. things.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ If he so sees someone trying to get your attention away from him, he’ll swiftly pull you closer to him by the waist. This would usually end up scaring the person away, this kind of behavior would go unnoticed by you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He hates when you give another man attention, he can’t help it. Why is another man getting the same attention he gets from you? Shouldn’t only he get that? If he has to, he’ll go ahead and order that person to be removed. No other man is worthy to have your attention, so he needs all of it.. and only him.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Though Byakuya always has the need to touch you, he never shows much affection. But when he does, it is very intense—and of course elegantly done!— a way he will is by giving you roses, he’ll make sure that he gets only the finest rose possible to deliver to you, one that has no flaws, one that is bright red, one that smells heavenly.. because that is exactly what you are to him.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He does not use words to handle a situation, if a man touches you, he will only give a cold expression, his eyes darkening to show his dominance. How dare they touch what belongs to him? how despicable.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ When he “isn’t” around you and decides that he will send nobody to watch over you, he will be the one to do so without you knowing. He’s the type to stand in the shadows, watching you from a distance. If he ever feels the need to swoop in, he will not hesitate to do so. And sometimes he will swoop in even if he is not needed to, his excuse would be “I was simply passing by”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He is very controlling, he’ll cover it up by saying he was only protecting you or guiding you. For an example, he’ll strongly suggest on what you should wear, who you trust, who you spend your time with. He will insist that this is for your own good, but really.. it is for his own mind. He will make sure that nobody has the privilege of being close to you or grow themselves attached to you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ If he notices—which he most definitely will- that someone has even expressed a hint of interest towards you, he’ll suddenly whisper into your ear “careful”. That alone sends shivers down your spine, you are aware just how far he is willing to keep you away from anyone else but him.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Byakuya hates the feeling of jealousy, he thinks that a man like him should not be feeling jealous of anything or anyone. But he can’t help it when you talk to another man, he’ll suddenly appear beside you, he won’t even speak a word out. He will always interrupt any potential threat on whoever tries to claim you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Byakuya will act like he respects your space and boundaries, it’s not like he doesn’t want to.. he simply cannot understand the concept of it when it comes to you. He will visit your quarters unannounced saying “I came to check up on you.” His visits are short, but they always leave a lingering feeling, a feeling that you seem to not be able to shake off. Even when you think you are alone, he will be watching over you, his presence is never too far from you. Occasionally you’ll catch him on the act and just invite him over.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Since this man is always watching over you, like a hawk. He takes notes on what you like and dislike. He notices when you hesitate to do something versus when you do something without hesitation. Every little thing about you is carefully stored away in his mind.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Byakuyas love is different, he will isolate you from others, keeping you all to himself. He wants you to need him above anybody else.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Though he does not show it, there is a slight pain in his eyes when you are not around.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He’s afraid of losing you, he never says it but you are sure he is afraid of losing you. The thought of you walking out on him or finding someone else is something a man like him cannot handle. That is why he is this way with you..

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He feels the need to protect you, to gatekeep you, to isolate you from everyone else. He should be the only thing you need, he’s enough isn’t he? So there shouldn’t be a problem with his actions.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He will subtly manipulate certain situations, to separate you from others, your friends, loved ones, anybody. He will do this while maintaining his formal and distant persona.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Byakuya is a needy man, so not only he requires your love, he requires your loyalty. If you were to ever show even the slightest bit of doubt or desire to leave him, he’ll emotionally manipulate you. He will remind you just how much he sacrificed for you, how no one else will protect you like the way he does.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Byakuya will do whatever it takes to secure your love to him, he will make sure nothing and nobody comes between you two. His loyalty towards you means he will make ruthless decisions to ensure your love and safety. Even if it means hurting others or making dark bargains behind the scenes.

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ll7esxs · 3 months ago

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Can I just say, that your work is literally so canon. Like you write the characters so realistically and so IN character. It’s downright beautiful, as far as I’m concerned your word is law 💕

May I request, how the Ghost team would react to confessing their love to teammate!reader while completely blackout drunk??

Like, they’ve fallen madly in love with reader, like I’m talking soulmate-once-in-a-lifetime-love things. But they’ve never acted upon it, always trying to repress their feelings for reader

But after a long mission, they all go to a bar, get drunk, and climb onto a table, stage, roof, anything, and just scream out their undying love reader. Or they get injured and the morphine makes them confess their love for reader. Either way, they wake up the next day, hungover af, and find out what they did by a teammate showing them a video of what they did

How will they react? How will they act while love-struck but in denial?? What will they do after seeing the video???

(If it’s too complicated or too much for you, then feel free to ignore this, have a nice day 😚❤️)

OMG ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THESE KIND WORDS!!! THEY MEANT A LOT TO ME!!!

Anon this is so cheesy for me Idk why haha but still whatever this fandom want🙏🏻🤎.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

Drunk (overreacted) confessions from them

characters: Logan walker, Hesh walker, Keegan p. russ, Kick.

X fem! Reader!

Notes: mention of alcohol!

Logan walker:

Logan isn’t usually a drinker, but after a long mission, he lets himself indulge. Unfortunately, tonight? Yeah, he overdid it.

At first, he’s just sitting quietly at the bar, drink in hand, looking at you like he always does—like you put the stars in the damn sky.

But then, something in his brain snaps. And before anyone can stop him, Logan climbs onto the bar counter, his movements surprisingly smooth despite the alcohol.

You groan, already bracing for whatever drunken nonsense is about to come out of his mouth. Logan isn’t a loud guy. He’s the quiet, brooding type—the one who watches from the shadows, sharp-eyed and calculating. But tonight? Thanks to way too much whiskey, he’s a whole different person.

The entire bar goes quiet as heads turn toward him. The team looks half-amused, half-horrified. Keegan mutters something under his breath, Hesh already has his face in his hands, and Kick? Kick’s just smirking slightly with kind of shocked expression, waiting to see how bad this gets.

You, however, are just trying to decide if you should drag him down now or let him embarrass himself first.

Logan sways slightly but holds his ground, looking down at you like you’re the only thing in the entire room that matters. His glass wobbles in his grip as he points right at you, eyes unfocused but filled with a ridiculous amount of passion.

“This—THIS RIGHT HERE,” he announces, voice thick with emotion, “is the most incredible, badass, beautiful human being I have EVER seen.”

Oh god.

You cover your face with your hands as laughter and whistles erupt from the bar. Someone claps. Someone else calls out, "Damn right!" and Logan, absolutely thriving off the attention, continues.

“You don’t even understand how lucky I am,” he slurs, placing a dramatic hand over his chest. “This woman—this goddess—she puts up with my brooding ass every single day. And she STILL looks at me like I’m worth a damn.” He pauses for a second, brows furrowing like he just had the deepest thought of his life. Then, suddenly, he grins. “That’s LOVE, people.”

You peek through your fingers, only to find him staring directly at you again, swaying slightly but still standing tall. Then, in the most theatrical, overly dramatic display possible

“AND I WOULD DIE FOR HER.”

The bar erupts.

Kick is howling with laughter, Keegan actually smirks, and Hesh is trying—and failing—To not acknowledge this is his brother standing. Someone in the back yells, “Kiss ‘her already!” and Logan, still very much riding the high of his drunk declaration

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

The morning after was hell.

Logan woke up with his head pounding, an insistent throb that seemed to match the rhythm of his heartbeat. He groaned, eyes squinting against the harsh light streaming through the window, as if the entire universe was conspiring to make him feel worse. His mouth tasted like ash, and his stomach churned in protest.

He shifted, slowly peeling himself off the bed, when he heard a familiar voice.

"Morning, lo," you said, holding up your phone in front of his face.

Logan’s eyes widened slightly, blinking away the remnants of sleep. And then, he saw it: the video.

No.

He immediately knew what it was. The alcohol-induced confession from last night. The one that had him spilling his heart out in front of the entire bar.

"Fuck, no..." he mumbled, his body going rigid as he pulled the blanket over his face, sinking into the pillows, trying to block out whatever embarrassment was coming his way. He wasn’t sure which was worse: the hangover or the thought of reliving his drunken declaration.

But you weren’t having it. You sat on the edge of the bed, a mischievous smile playing on your lips, as you pressed "Play" on the video.

Logan’s groan was audible as the playback began.

The video started with him standing on the bar, arms outstretched like some drunken Shakespearean actor, whiskey sloshing in his glass. You could hear the crowd cheering, the clinking of glasses, and then Logan’s voice—loud, completely unfiltered.

“THIS—THIS RIGHT HERE is the most incredible, badass, beautiful human being I have EVER seen."

Logan’s eyes widened as the words hit him like a freight train. His face instantly buried deeper into his hands, and he let out a long, suffering groan.

The video continued, his drunken confession echoing in the room. “I WOULD DIE FOR HER.”

By now, Logan had curled into a ball, attempting to disappear completely under the blanket, but you were relentless, laughing softly.

“You might want to see the best part, Logan. You know, the part where you said you’d die for me?”

Logan’s muffled voice came out from under the covers, full of defeat. “Fucking… why you doing this. I never should’ve had that last drink.”

You kept the phone at a safe distance, just long enough for him to hear the entire confession.

When it ended, you put the phone down on the bedside table, the silence in the room hanging thick and heavy. Logan didn’t move. He didn’t speak.

You watched him for a moment before leaning over, placing a hand gently on his strong shoulder. "Logan..."

He finally emerged from under the blanket, face red and eyes wide with embarrassment. "I can’t believe I—" He cut himself off, looking like he wanted to sink into the bed and never come out again. “God, please tell me no one recorded that."

You gave him a playful look. "Oh, don’t worry. It was just the whole bar... and maybe a couple of the regulars."

Logan groaned again, his face buried back into the pillow, but this time, a small, sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "This is it. I’m done. I’m staying in this room until everyone forgets about last night."

You chuckled, rubbing his strong back. “Well, you did say you loved me. It was a pretty sweet confession, even if you were drunk.”

Logan let out a breath, sounding both defeated and affectionate at once. "Yeah, but not like that..." He peeked up at you, his eyes softer than before. “I meant it, though. Every damn word.”

You smiled down at him, a little teasing, but your heart warmed. "I know you did, Logan. I know you did."

And in that moment, even with the hangover, the embarrassment, and the ridiculous video, everything else faded into the background. Because despite his blunders, despite everything, Logan’s feelings were real. And maybe, just maybe, that made the whole thing worth it.

Hesh walker:

Hesh is a messy drunk. He gets cocky at first, then way too sentimental.

So after a few rounds of tequila shots, He was looking at you now smiling softly when you holding a cup give a confused look with a smile, he looked cute in your opinion.

He struggled so bad with his words due to his drunk statement.

And when you couldn't understand him telling him "Careful, david. that sounds like a confession"

He groaned annoyed at you then he sat in front of you on the counter bar shocked you when he hold your face for a seconds to look at him and FOCUS ON HIM.

He stared at you with a mix of admiration and... something else. You felt his gaze before you saw it, the intensity of it like a spotlight on you.

And then, without any warning, Hesh slammed his drink down on the bar and pointed a finger at you.

"Y/N! I—I LOVED YOU SINCE FOREVER AGO. YOU’RE SO PRETTY AND FUNNY AND YOU KICK ASS AND I WANNA KISS YOU SO BAD."

You blinked, trying to process what was happening. Your heart skipped a beat, your mind going blank for a moment. The entire bar went silent for a split second, all eyes turning toward him. You could practically hear the crickets.

"David are you fucking for real right now?"

Logan, of course, wasn’t fazed in the slightest. He simply took a slow sip from his own drink, his eyes lazily flicking over to you with an unreadable expression. and yeah he succeeded in making himself a stranger just like the other fellas at the bar.

"…Dude," Logan muttered under his breath, not even bothering to give Hesh a side-eye.

But you? You were staring at Hesh, wide-eyed, completely stunned by his sudden confession. You didn’t know how to respond—what do you even say to that? Was this some kind of drunken ramble? Or was he being serious?

Hesh, however, wasn’t done. He leaned forward on the bar, ignoring the stares of the others in the room, fully committed to whatever the hell he was saying.

"I don’t care if anyone’s listenin’! I just—" He gestured wildly, a bit too animated for someone who had been drinking, "I just need you to know. You make everything better. You’re—everything. And I just wanna kiss you, Y/N, I—FUCK IT!"

You were completely overwhelmed, your face turning beet red. You felt so shy, suddenly unable to look him in the eye as his words washed over you. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Your heart was racing, and the only thing you could manage to do was give a nervous, sheepish smile.

“Yeah, david... I’m just gonna go,” you muttered, suddenly feeling very much out of your element. You didn’t even wait for a response before turning to leave the bar, your mind spinning in circles.

But as you started to walk away, you heard Hesh’s voice from behind you, almost like a whine.

“What? Where’re you goin’?! Come on, don’t leave me hangin' like that!”

You quickened your pace, trying to hide the blush on your face, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up. There was something so undeniably Hesh about the way he threw himself into everything, no shame, no hesitation.

Logan didn’t even glance your way as you left. He was too busy finishing his drink, probably already onto the next thing in his head. But as you made your way out of the bar, you couldn’t help but think about what Hesh said.

It was loud, it was unexpected, but in a weird way, it was also kinda sweet.

And for now, that’s enough.

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

The sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting a hazy glow over the room. Hesh lay there, still tangled in the sheets, groaning softly as his hand rubbed his temple. His head throbbed—he knew exactly what had happened last night. The alcohol, the words he couldn’t take back, the confession that had spilled out of him like an unstoppable flood.

“Why do I feel like I made an ass of myself last night?” he muttered, staring out the window as if the morning sun could offer him some sort of redemption.

You, standing at the door, couldn’t help but smirk. You'd been waiting for this moment, the moment Hesh would finally confront his drunken rambling. "You did, David. You really did," you said, your voice light but with just enough teasing to make him stiffen.

He turned around, wide-eyed, like he’d just seen a ghost. “Oh, nah…” he mumbled, running his hand over his face as if the words he’d spoken the night before were some sort of fever dream.

But it was too late. You pulled up the video on your phone and hit Play.

Immediately, his own voice echoed through the room, the confession he had made without a second thought. “I LOVE YOU SINCE FOREVER AGO. YOU’RE SO PRETTY AND FUNNY AND YOU KICK ASS AND I WANNA KISS YOU SO BAD.”

Hesh’s face turned redder than a tomato, and he buried his face in hands, his eyes closed as if he could somehow will the video—and the whole embarrassing memory—out of existence. But it kept playing, louder and louder.

When it ended, you could see the sheer defeat on his face. He was completely silent for a long moment. And then, with an exhale that was equal parts frustrated and resigned, he turned toward you, clearly ready to face the consequences.

"So that’s not me," he said flatly, as if to make some sort of last-ditch attempt at saving face.

You raised an eyebrow, trying hard to keep the amusement from spilling over. You could tell he was desperately hoping you’d let him off the hook, maybe pretend it never happened. But you just shook your head slowly, the smile still playing on your lips.

“No, David,” you said, trying to hold back a chuckle. “That was definitely you.”

You let the silence stretch for a moment, the weight of his embarrassment hanging between you two. His eyes were searching you, desperate for some reassurance, the fear of rejection clear in the way his posture softened. He was terrified that you'd hate him for the drunken mess he'd made of himself. But you weren’t going to make this easy on him.

"So..." you leaned in slightly, voice a little teasing. "When are you gonna kiss me?"

And just like that, the air shifted. Hesh’s entire system seemed to freeze. His eyes widened, his mouth slightly parted in confusion, like the real shock had just hit him. The cogs in his brain struggled to work as he stared at you, caught completely off guard.

Hesh.exe has stopped working.

You couldn’t help it. You chuckled at the look on his face. His hands flew up to his hair, messing it up even more, trying to formulate a response, but no words came out. His usual smooth, confident self was nowhere to be found. He was just a big, lovable mess of flustered nerves.

“Y/N stop it for real...” he stammered, trying to find something to say, his voice cracking under the pressure.

You raised your eyebrows, enjoying this moment just a little too much. “I mean… you did say you wanted to kiss me. Pretty badly, actually.”

Hesh groaned, dropping his body back into the couch, completely defeated. "I’m never drinking again."

You laughed again, shaking your head. "We both know that’s a lie, David."

But you didn’t let the moment linger in the awkward tension. Slowly, you walked over to his side of the couch, bending down to meet his gaze. "You’re lucky I think it’s cute, you know?"

He looked up at you, a small, sheepish smile finally tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I know. sorry for the embarrassment i brought to ya."

“You’re lucky I’m not going to hold it against you. But seriously… when’s that kiss coming?” [chat sorry i asked a lot but eh yknow its hesh]

Hesh’s smile grew, more confident now that the storm had passed. “You’re gonna make me work for it, aren’t you?”

You grinned, shaking your head. “You kinda deserve to.”

Keegan p. russ:

Keegan doesn’t get wasted often.

But when he does? It’s bad.

Tonight is one of those nights.

And instead of yelling his confession like the others, he just—stares at you. Like, straight-up, glassy-eyed, utterly in love staring.

Merrick nudged him with his elbow. “You good, Keegan?”

Keegan didn’t even bother to look at him. Instead, he just sighed, resting his elbow on the table holding his drink, his eyes staring at the table like he was lost in thought.

“No,” he muttered, voice low, like the weight of the world was pressing on him. “Fuck it, I’m not.”

You raised an eyebrow, hearing the frustration in his tone. It wasn’t like Keegan to let anything show, especially not in front of the team. “Why’s that?” you asked, curiosity getting the best of you.

Keegan barely spared you a glance. He waved a hand lazily in your direction, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “’Cause of you.”

You blinked, totally thrown off by the sudden and completely unexpected response. “Me?”

He nodded, his expression serious, almost unsettlingly so. It was like a switch had flipped, and the usual cool, collected Keegan had become something… different. “Mhm. You’re so goddamn perfect, it pisses me off.”

Your heart skipped a beat. What was happening? Keegan—cold, aloof Keegan—was looking at you with a kind of intensity that made you feel small, vulnerable. His gaze didn’t soften, didn’t break. It was like he was studying you, trying to figure you out in a way that made your stomach twist.

You couldn’t quite process the words he was saying. It was like a bomb had just dropped, and now everything was in slow motion. His tone was so calm, so detached, but his eyes—God, his eyes—were burning with something you couldn’t name.

And it scared you.

“…What?” You said it more to yourself than to him, your voice faltering slightly. You were completely thrown off. Keegan never acted like this. He was the cool, stoic guy in the corner, the one who didn’t let anything shake him. But right now, the way he was looking at you—confessing like this, with that cold, sharp edge—was unnerving. And yet, strangely… alluring.

He didn’t respond right away, just kept his gaze locked on you like he was daring you to understand, to process the weight of his words. His lips barely twitched at the corners, the faintest trace of a smirk threatening to break through.

The room felt smaller suddenly. Merrick’s voice was muffled, the noise of the team faded away as your focus stayed completely on Keegan. You were frozen in place, unsure how to react, unsure of how to deal with this new side of him.

He didn’t give you much of a chance to recover, though. His coldness was like a wall, but the words he spoke were undeniable, carrying the truth of them in a way that made your chest tighten.

And in that moment, you realized—Keegan wasn’t just being cold. He was being honest. And it wasn’t something you were ready for. Not from him. Not like this.

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

The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting a dull glow on Keegan's room. His head felt heavy, the weight of last night's events still pressing on his chest. He could barely remember what exactly had happened, but the fragments that were coming back to him were enough to make him cringe. Every word, every look, every confession—it was all there. And it was all his fault.

Keegan groaned, running a hand through his messy black hair. His blue eyes, usually sharp and calculated, were tired and heavy from the lack of sleep and the frustration that lingered from his own actions. He could still hear the echo of his words, the way he’d made that stupid confession to you, the way you had looked at him like you’d never seen him before. He hated it.

As if the universe decided to torture him just a bit more, there was a knock at his door. Keegan froze, hoping against hope that it was one of the guys. Anyone but you.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath, not even bothering to mask his irritation. He stood up, rubbed his eyes, and reluctantly made his way to the door. He wasn’t ready to face you—not after what he’d said.

He opened the door, his tired, lazy blue eyes locking onto you. He sighed, turning his head away slightly, hoping you didn’t notice the tension in his face.

"Shit," he muttered again, though this time it was more to himself. "Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?"

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his coldness. Of course, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see you. Not after what happened. But you weren’t going to let him brush it off that easily.

You crossed your arms, standing your ground. "You know we need to talk, right?"

Keegan sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair again, looking frustrated. "Not now. We’ll talk later, alright?"

But you weren't having any of it. You knew Keegan's cold, distant attitude. He always pushed things off, avoided confrontation. But you weren’t going to let him get away with it this time. You weren’t going to let him just pretend it never happened.

"No, Keegan," you said firmly, your voice softer but still determined. "You will talk about it now. We-oh sorry no, You need to settle this."

Keegan let out a long, exasperated breath, his shoulders slumping as he stepped back, motioning for you to come inside. The look in his eyes was a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. He didn’t want to admit it. Hell, he didn’t even want to face it. But the more he tried to push it away, the more the weight of his actions pressed on him.

"You don't get it," he muttered quietly, his voice losing the sharp edge it usually carried. "I don’t do this..." He shook his head, clearly frustrated with himself. "I don't say things like that."

You stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. Keegan didn’t even look at you, his gaze focused on the floor. His walls were coming down, slowly but surely, and he hated it. He hated how vulnerable he was feeling, how human he felt in this moment. It was rare for him to let anyone see this side of him—the side that didn’t have everything under control.

"You didn’t mean it, right?" you said softly, almost as if you were trying to reassure him. But there was a challenge in your voice. "Or did you?"

Keegan’s eyes lifted to you hands on his hips muscle, and for a moment, you saw something in them—a softness, something he didn’t usually show. He didn’t say anything for a long moment. The silence stretched, but then, quietly, he admitted, "I meant it."

It was barely a whisper, but it was enough.

The confession, the vulnerability—he couldn’t hide it anymore.

You stepped closer, your gaze steady but warm. "Keegan..." you said, soft but full of understanding. "You don’t have to be scared of saying it."

His eyes flickered to yours, and for a moment, you saw the wall he’d built around himself crack just a little. The harsh, cold Keegan you knew was still there, but this was him—really him. And in that quiet moment, he finally softened with a scoff, just enough for you to see it.

“Fuck it, I’m not scared,” he replied scoffing at you, his voice rough, but there was a hint of something different in it now. Something real.

And that was all you needed to hear.

You reached out, placing a hand on his chest, him breathing out looking at your hand. "Good. never thought you would get the balls to admit it russ"

He didn’t say anything in response, but the weight that had been pressing on him seemed to ease. The tension in his shoulders relaxed. He may have been a man of few words, but in that moment, the silence between you both spoke louder than anything else.

And for the first time, Keegan didn’t mind it.

Kick:

Kick holds his liquor well. Or at least, he thinks he does.

And he did too much when he gave in.

He is a honest person when he is soer just imagine him when he is drunk.

You were sitting hearing the chit chats, getting in with them.

When you felt someone pulled a chair next to you, it was kick.

You smiled kindly to him then returning back to the conversation turning your head.

He leaned in slightly, his voice low but steady. “I got a secret, Y/N.” He took a long sip of his drink, the way he swallowed hard indicating he was probably trying to brace himself for whatever was coming.

You turning your attention to him smiling, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s that?”

Kick tapped your shoulder with every word he spoke, his gaze locked on yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “I. Am. In. Love. With. You.”

Your breath caught in your throat. For a second, everything around you seemed to freeze. The bar noise faded into the background, and all you could focus on was Kick. His smile was lazy, like he was saying something casual, but there was something in his eyes that told you this was anything but.

"Like, really in love," he continued, his voice almost playful but with an edge of sincerity that made your chest tighten. "Like, wanna spend the rest of my life with you kinda love. Ain’t that crazy?"

The entire team, unbeknownst to him, was watching from the sidelines, eyes flicking between you and him. You could feel the weight of their gaze, but it was nothing compared to the storm brewing in your chest. Your mind was racing, trying to process what Kick had just said. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, the sudden intensity of his words, or the fact that you weren’t expecting any of it—but there you were, completely stunned.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out at first. All you could do was stare at him, your mind blank.

Then, after a beat, you finally managed to find your voice, though it was quieter than usual. “Let me think about it,” you said, your tone more measured, but there was a hint of playfulness in it too.

Without giving him another chance to respond, you stood up and walked away, heading for the exit of the bar. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time, the weight of his confession still lingering in the air.

You left him there, grinning like an idiot god he was so proud of you playing with feelings like thus, but also... kind of hoping he'd do exactly what he always did: chase you.

And for once, you didn't mind that he would.

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

The morning light filtered in through the blinds, casting a soft glow over the room. Kick was sprawled on the couch, his head pounding, the aftermath of a night he could barely remember. His eyes slowly fluttered open, the familiar weight of a hangover making everything feel ten times worse.

He groaned and turned his head, trying to adjust to the light, only to find you sitting across the room, looking way too awake for someone who’d been drinking with him the night before. You smiled playfully, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "How things, kick."

He blinked at you, confused for a second. His brain was still foggy from the alcohol, trying to piece together what had happened last night. The words he’d spoken to you—those declarations, the confession—felt like distant echoes in his mind. But as you reached for your phone, the reality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks.

You pressed play. to the voice recorder file you have saved.

A sharp, rough voice—the unmistakable tone of Kick—filtered through the speakers. "I. Am. In. Love. With. You." It was followed by the sound of his words growing more passionate, more real, more raw. "Like, really in love. Like, wanna spend the rest of my life with you kinda love."

Kick froze. His face drained of color as the realization of his drunken confession sunk in. Oh shit. He had said all that. And now, you were playing it back to him like it was nothing.

There was a heavy silence between you both as his head throbbed, and all he could do was stare at you. His mind raced, heart pounding with a mix of embarrassment and anxiety.

Finally, he sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand. "Shit, Y/N. Sorry I made the first confession this ridiculous," he muttered, looking down at the floor as if it could swallow him up. He had always prided himself on being cool, collected, but now, faced with the fallout of his own words, that image was completely shattered.

You didn’t respond immediately, letting him stew in his own regret for a moment. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, until you finally spoke up.

"I don’t mind it at all..." you said, offering a gentle, reassuring smile. "It wasn’t that bad."

Kick looked up at you, disbelief in his eyes. Was that your reaction? He’d expected you to laugh or make some snide comment. But instead, you were... calm. Maybe even understanding. And it made him feel a little less like a fool.

He leaned back, trying to steady his breathing. "I don’t want to make a joke out of this, Y/N," he said, his voice quieter now, but there was a level of sincerity in it that was rare for Kick. "I respect you too much for that."

There was a moment where his amber eyes softened, his usual cocky demeanor slipping away. His shoulders sagged, as if he was finally letting his guard down. "Look... I said all that last night, and I meant it. But maybe I said it wrong... or, I dunno, too loudly. But it was the truth."

You could see it—the shift. Kick wasn’t just the guy who liked to joke around, to keep things light. In that moment, he was real with you. And you could tell he was waiting, hoping for an answer, no matter how scared he was of what it might be.

You watched him carefully, your mind processing his words. You could feel the weight of the confession, his vulnerability. He wasn’t just trying to win you over with jokes anymore. He was being honest, and he was asking for something that took guts.

And just like that, you knew how you felt. You weren’t about to make him wait any longer. You smiled softly, a look of understanding and affection in your eyes.

"I think you were just too drunk to say it any other way," you said, your voice light but genuine, teasing just enough to break the tension.

Kick blinked at you, clearly relieved that you weren’t going to make this awkward for him. He let out a small, amused laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, maybe. But now that I’m sober... I meant every damn word."

There was no more joking, no more avoiding the truth. This time, you could see the real Kick, the one who wasn’t afraid to admit when he felt something. And it was all out in the open now. You didn’t need him to say anything else. You knew the answer to his question.

"I think..." you paused, eyes meeting his. "I think you’re not as bad as you make yourself out to be."

He laughed again, this time with a little more warmth. "Well, guess that’s something, huh?"

And in that moment, Kick felt like maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

#call of duty ghosts #cod ghosts #hesh walker #david hesh walker #logan walker #keegan p russ #kick cod #cod logan #cod hesh #call of duty ghosts x reader #cod ghosts x reader #x fem reader

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