#(and if i send an anxiety text that gets no response because they too are busy i think i will surely die) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zeltqz · 5 months

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having rindou as a clingy, needy fwb

content: safe sex, sexting, suggestive pics, rindou is a horny guy, needy guy, clingy guy, implied possessive rindou, fem!reader

a/n: ive been so inactive im so sorry guys i feel so bad :( uni has been literally kicking my BOOOOOTYYYY anyway enjoy this quick one shot with rindou :))

He’s bold.

You set the shopping bag down on the floor by your bed and began to unpack its contents, ready for a mini fashion show in front of your mirror when your phone chimed by your bedside table.

You were halfway with taking your top off when you heard the buzz and walked over to it and grabbed it.

rinnn wyd

You smiled at his random text message, eyes trained on your screen as you sat backwards onto your bed and texted back.

you Just came back from shopppinggg

Setting your phone down, you’re about to stand back up to head towards your mirror when he responds at lightspeed. Oh he must be so bored today, you snigger and decide to text him back.

rinnn What you get?

you Cant tell you thattttt Too personal

rinnn What was it? Lingerie?

you Oh um

rinnn No way. Pfft yeah right

you WHATS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN????

rinnn Nothing i just cant see you in that at all

you Well its true

rinnn Sureeee Lemme see it

you Ok wait one second

You stand up from your bed and walk over to your bag, grab the lacy bra and matching panties set and place it flat on your bed. It took longer than a second to snap the photo as you wanted it to look perfect and presentable so you spent longer actually wiping stray crumbs from your bed, closing your curtains to get perfect lighting, straightening out your bedsheets in order to get the perfect photo.

Once you were pleased, you hopped back onto your bed and sent the photo to Rindou. As expected, since it took longer than you said to send the photo he went offline and you huffed impatiently. Ten minutes later your phone was buzzing and you zoomed for it eagerly, only for your smile to fade when you saw his response.

rinnn Thats not what i meant

you WDYM?????

rinnn Did you get it for your boyfriend?

you You know damn well i dont have a boyfriend

rinnn Lmfao i know. just checking

you what???

rinnn Show me the fit tho

you I did

rinnn Put it on

you oh…OHH Sure okay…

You weren’t expecting that at all honestly. Yet the idea of putting it on for Rindou weirdly turned you on. You bit your lip and stared down at the lacy material laid on your bed and slowly began to strip off your shirt and bottoms. Once it was on, you quickly walked up to the mirror and examined how it looked on you.

It was the cheapest matching set available in store and you weren’t rich by any means so it’ll have to do. You quickly grabbed your phone and snapped a photo of you standing in the mirror.

The photo was horrible. You were stiff, awkward and you accidentally took the photo in the middle of blinking. You wanted to cry but you couldn’t find the confidence left in yourself to retake it, so you cropped your face out and sent the photo to Rindou without a second thought.

It all happened so quickly that you failed to realise the gravity of what you just did until you saw Rindou read the message. Your eyes widened and you tossed your phone across the room, flopping instantly onto your bed and thrashing between the sheets for a minute or two to let your frustrations and anxieties out.

It was the first time you ever sent someone intimate photos and you made a promise to your younger self that you’d wait until you were in an official relationship to do that. But here you were sending them to your best friend just because you wanted his approval for reasons that were beyond you.

Your phone buzzed minutes later and you peeked an eye open at your phone from across the room, took a deep breath then reached for it.

rinnn Damn u look so sexy right now

you Lol stop Thank you tho

rinnn Send another

you Desperate much?

rinnn Coming from the girl buying lingerie for herself

you Nothing wrong with that :( But fine wait

You feel exceptionally giddy when you stand up from your bed, your confidence rising back up in copious amounts as you waddle towards your mirror. This time, you recorded a short video of you from side to side, showing off your assets as seductively as you possibly could before sending it to him.

His response only spurs you on even more.

rinnn Would u kill me if i was hard rn

you Probably yes Flattered, but yes

rinnn How would u kill me?

you Choke you maybe. Or like suffocation and prolong it as long as i can

rinnn With your thighs? I wont mind that

Your face flushes as your thumbs freeze over your keyboard.

you OML YOURE SO HORNY I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT

rinnn Thats how i took it

you Yeah i know, you weirdo

rinnn How would you suffocate me though?

you With my hands duhhhhhh. Actually maybe a pillow. More surface area.

rinnn You’ll be on top of me?

The image of you on top of him with your hands around his throat plagued your mind and you were lost for words for the third time tonight. It didn’t even occur to you that you were sexting your best friend.

you If that's how you want to go out then yes

rinnn It is

you Then i will

rinnn Good

You This escalated so fast Goodbye rindou

He’s needy.

His phone is ringing.

Rindou’s phone is ringing whilst he’s on top of you, lips kissing and sucking your soft skin just under your jaw as his cock thrusts slowly into you. Your hands are playing with his hair, running your fingers through them, scratching at his scalp when his cock reaches that spot inside you with enough force to tease, not satisfy you.

You’d been begging him to go rougher, want to hear the loud slap of his hips against yours but he’d been so adamant on taking his sweet time, like his phone hasn’t been ringing for the last thirty seconds.

“Rinnnnnn,” you grumble irritatedly, the soft strokes you were doing on his hair now turned to a full on tug , as harsh as you could, with enough force to completely still his lips on your neck.

He pulls away from you and lifts himself up onto his arms, looking down at you with a peeved expression on his face.

“What.” His hips still don’t still, thrusting ever so slightly into you but keeps on managing to hit that spot regardless and see your eyes roll as you bite down your lip to stifle a moan.

Unlinking your arms from around his neck, you try to reach over to the bedside table but your arms are too short. Grumbling, you try to shift and Rindou just stills entirely, watching you grab his phone that was face down as it rang continuously for the last minute.

Missed call: Dad

Your eyebrows raise as you read the contact and turn the phone towards Rindou. He clicks his tongue, irritated your attention is off him and grabs the phone.

“It’s just my old man, who cares?” He tosses the phone backwards on the bed, this time you can’t reach it if it rings again and his thrusts restart, slowly rolling his hips into your core.

“What if it's important?” you mumble, your voice shaky when he relowers himself on you, kissing your lips softly. “Rin—” Your words keep getting swallowed by his lips and he doesn’t stop kissing you until you finally give in.

He grabs onto your hand and lifts it, nestling it on top of his head and moves your fingers to play with his hair. You got the hint and began stroking his hair again, loving the way he hums into your mouth whenever you tug at his hair.

You were finally submitting to him again, his phone long forgotten in your mind and he grins before pulling away from the kiss to reattach his lips back onto your neck, adding more to the marks he left on your neck prior.

“Rin faster please,” you whine, trying to lift your hips to feel his cock deeper inside you but he’s quicker. A firm hand pressing down on your hips to keep them flat on the bed.

“Stop being so needy,” he says, voice muffled as he doesn’t stop sucking down your throat.

“I’m needy? Says the one who’s been kissing me and having me play with your hair for the last—” You grab your phone that was under his pillow and check the time. You got here around five p.m and it's now close to six. “—hour.”

“Were you not complaining you barely get aftercare during sex? All those other boys you were with practically discarded you, now I’m doing it and you have a problem?” His hand runs on the underside of your right breast before cupping it, squeezing it in his hand, enjoying the way you shiver momentarily. “Make up your fuckin’ mind.”

His tongue licks at your nipple and your body jerks briefly before stilling as he sucks on your soft nipple till it hardens.

“That’s—not the same and you know it, Rin.” you huff, unable to think of a comeback; not when he’s treating you like this. He chuckles and bites gently on your breast.

All you can think of as you toss your head back is the feeling of his soft lips on your breast, his tongue licking at your nipple, sending static down your entire body.

His mouth is hot against your skin and you find yourself subconsciously lifting your chest higher to feel more of his mouth.

Your hands grab onto his face and lift him to look at you before pulling him towards you for a kiss. His hand rests on the headboard behind you as your needy mouth moves against his.

You take the time to run your fingers along his sides, dragging them along his bare back that’s far too clean for your liking, not enough scratch marks like usual. If only he’d actually fuck you like you wanted.

This time, your phone starts to ring beside you and you pull away, breaking the kiss and completely missing the way Rindou rolls his eyes as you instantly go to answer it.

“Hello?”

Bored, Rindou bends back down to your neck only to have you press your spare hand against his mouth, looking sternly at him and shaking your head.

“Oh hi Kakucho. Yes, Rindou’s with me.”

Rindou gives you a confused look and you shrug before listening intently at your phone. “Oh really? Yeah, we’re not busy right now. I’ll tell him. Okay, bye.” You hang up and put your phone back on the bed.

“Why did you lie?” Rindou asks.

“Kakucho said he needs you for something. I don’t know what, he won’t tell me.”

“Okay? I’m still busy though.” He pins you back down to the bed when you go to sit up. “I’ll fuck you for real this time. Let me finish.”

As if to prove his point he shifts backwards, grabbing your ankles and lifting your legs to rest on his shoulder. He leans forward and his cock instantly slides deeper than before; you moan loudly.

“Right there?” He rolls his hips again, testing. You nod rapidly, breathless and that’s all he needs before snapping his hips recklessly.

Your walls flutter around the condom with each thrust and he can’t get enough of how good you feel around him. He buries his head between your shoulder and his pillow and listens to your moans, how loud and shaky they get when his hips press firmly against yours.

“I’m close,” you say softly, biting down on your lip.

“Me too. Shit.”

His orgasm comes faster than he’d expected, his seed spilling out into the condom when you moan his name softly as your own walls spasm from your own orgasm. He lays on top of you momentarily before remembering Kakucho’s call and reluctantly lifts himself off you.

He slides off the bed and you lift your jelly legs up to sit upright, watching him change back into his clothes.

“What time will you be back?” you ask, resting your chin on your arm perched on top of your knee.

“Not sure to be honest. I don’t even know what these people want.” He fixes his belt. “Why? You’ll miss me?” he adds with a smirk and you roll your eyes,

“Other way around Rindou.”

“Mhm sure .” Fully dressed, he fixes his hair that’s been ruffled from earlier. “C’mere.”

You slide off the bed and walk over to him. He cups your cheek and pulls you closer, gently kissing you.

You pull away after a few moments and push him towards the door. “Get out already. Stop stalling and go see your friends.”

He laughs before closing the door.

He can’t keep his hands off you.

Rindou has his arm wrapped around your shoulder, keeping sure your body is pressed against his side the entire party. If you wanted to get a drink, he’ll be with you with his arm around your shoulder. It’s a friendly gesture, what can he say?

If you wanted to play beer pong with his friends, his arm is around your hip, standing behind you, close enough so that your ass constantly brushes his crotch whenever you make any sort of movement.

His friends all look at him like he can’t be serious. Ran can’t even think of a time he’s seen you without Rindou’s arm around you honestly. It’s gotten that far.

If you’re sitting on the couch, Rindou’s arm is around your waist, making sure you’re sitting as close to him as possible. What can he say, he just wants to make space for others on the couch. He’s a generous guy.

You’re currently in the bathroom, fixing your hair up to get ready to step into the pool.

Rindou’s watching you as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, shamelessly running his eyes along your body in your bathing suit. You’re not oblivious to his staring, only used to it at this point. It’s not like you don’t stare at him too whenever he’s shirtless.

It’s only admiration .

Rindou stands up and stands behind you as you take your earrings out, his chest right against your back as you look at him through the mirror.

“You good?” you ask, concerned. He’s been silent the entire time you’ve been changing.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” he murmurs, distracted by the thin strap of your bathing suit. He can’t help but wonder how something so thin can be sturdy enough to hold up in the waters. The last thing he wants is for it to come loose and have your entire chest exposed in front of all his friends.

“I dunno Rin. You’ve been really quiet since Sanzu mentioned swimming—”

“Isn’t this a little flimsy?” he cuts you off, ignoring you in favour of tugging at your strap.

“You think?” You tug at the other one and wonder. “I think it’ll be fine. Actually! Could you tighten the strings at the back?” You reach behind your back and gesture at it.

“Sure.” His voice is low as he unties the straps and begins tying them again but tighter. Halfway, he stops and you don’t notice until you’ve fully taken out your earrings, feeling your bikini top begin to slip.

“Uh, Rin?” You feel him moving the straps off your shoulder but before you can question it, he’s turning you around and hoisting you up onto the bathroom counter. “Rin. What are you—”

He leans forward, entrapping in a kiss that has you shutting up instantly. His hand palms your breast through your bikini top that’s on the verge of falling to the floor.

Your hands move to the side of his face and hold him close to you as he slips between your legs, his hand dropping to rest at your hips. His tongue plays with yours, licking into your mouth and you have to fight to keep the soft moan rising in your throat down as you ran your hands down the plane of his chest, gripping at the waistband of his shorts to tug him closer.

Your bikini top finally falls to the floor and it feels so good to have his hand caressing your bare breast.

A loud knock at the door startles you; Rindou remains unfazed, only irritated at being interrupted.

“What the fuck do you want?” Rindou yells at the door.

“We’re about to get in the pool. You guys coming or not?!” Sanzu yells back from the other end.

Rindou turns back to you and you shrug, not really minding what you do. His eyes drop down to your lips, your bare chest, your legs, then his dick that’s been hard in his shorts for the last five minutes.

“We’ll see you in a bit.” Rindou kisses you again, lifting you off the counter slightly to slide the rest of your bikini off.

“We’re busy right now.”

#—tr </3 #rindou haitani x reader #haitani rindou x reader #rindou smut #rindou x reader #tokrev x reader #tokrev #tokyorev x reader #tr smut #tr x reader #tokrev smut

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sugarcoated-lame · 9 months

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Lost and Found | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Single Dad!Bradley x Reader

Part One of my Single dad!Bradley miniseries | part two | library blog

*all my works are 18+, minors DNI

Summary: When Bradley’s four-year old daughter goes missing during a trip to the mall, he doesn’t expect to find himself so taken with the pretty stranger who helps her find her way back to him.

WC: 3.6K

Warnings: I suck at titling my stories and summaries :), a bit of angst, mentions of pregnancy and abandonment, (briefly) missing child, mentions of anxiety/panic attack, but then so much fluff, Bradley’s kid being too cute for her own good, implied age gap, I feel like dilf Bradley needs his own warning

a/n: I wrote this months ago and I’m a bit nervous to share, but the response to the teaser was so amazing (thank you <3) and dilf Bradley lives in my head rent-free, so I’m excited about this one! Also the picture on the right just screams dad Bradley to me! Thank you for reading, as always I’d love to hear your feedback, so please leave a comment/reblog <3

• • •

Bradley directs his gaze away from the rack of little girls’ clothes he’d been perusing, injecting enthusiasm into his voice as he holds up a hanger with a small, baby pink t-shirt dress hanging on it. “Hey, Bug. What do you think of this–?”

He cuts himself off before the end of his question when he realizes that he’s talking to no one. “Where did she…?”

He trails off, brows furrowed. Still holding up the child-sized dress that looks especially tiny next to his large frame, Bradley spins around, perplexed. She was just here.

- - -

Bradley’s daughter, Caroline, who’d just recently turned four— and was growing up way too fast for his liking— was set to begin preschool next week. His little girl was growing right before his eyes and she needed a new wardrobe to accommodate that. So, Bradley had taken her to the mall to buy some new clothes for school. He didn’t know the first thing about little girls’ fashion, but he was sure he could manage.

He’d spent the last hour searching through clothing rack after clothing rack in the girl’s section of a department store, Caroline at his side, lips in a pout and shaking her little head ‘no’ at all of his choices, sandy brown curls bobbing along with her every movement. Bradley could tell the four-year old was getting bored, and he was becoming frustrated.

The buzzing of his phone with a text from Maverick granted him a brief reprieve from his predicament.

“One second, honey.” Bradley sighed, affectionately patting the top of his daughter’s head before looking toward his phone to answer some question Mav had about work.

He was happy for a moment’s distraction from getting ready to tear his hair out wondering if he was going to have to send his daughter to her first day of preschool wearing a trash bag because he didn’t know what the hell kind of clothes he’s supposed to buy for a picky four-year old girl.

Bradley had been a single parent for most of his daughter’s life. He and Caroline’s mother, Amber, had only been seeing each other for the better half of a year when they found out the news that they were expecting. And even then, their relationship was never really official.

The two met not long after the Uranium Mission, while Bradley was still on North Island taking some time to relax and awaiting another assignment. He’d gone to the little diner Amber was waitressing at, he thought she was cute and they’d hit it off straight away. Bradley got her number and the rest was history.

The Navy kept Bradley busy. He was always traveling for some assignment or deployments – sometimes gone for months at a time, so they only saw each other on the rare occasions he was in town.

They’d hang out and hook up, maybe go on a date here and there, a sort of friends-with-benefits situation. There was definitely a sense of care between Bradley and Amber, but the lack of time they were able to spend together meant it never went beyond that.

When they learned that Amber was pregnant, they both knew it wouldn’t be easy. But they thought that, together, they could make it work.

A few months after Caroline was born though, Amber admitted that she couldn’t handle things.

Bradley took to being a father so easily. From the moment their baby was born and she looked up at him with those big, honey brown eyes that matched his own, he knew that he’d do absolutely anything for her. Caroline instantly became his world.

Amber, on the other hand, really struggled. She loved her baby of course, but deep down she wasn’t sure she was ready to be a mother. If she’d ever be.

She figured it was better if she’d gone while Caroline was still young enough that she wouldn’t remember her, and knew that their daughter would be just fine in Bradley’s loving hands. And just like that, she left the both of them.

Bradley resented Amber for a while, but in time he came to understand. Not everyone was meant to be a parent. Besides that, he knew that there was no time for resentment.

He was on his own with a four-month old baby and he needed to put all of his energy into taking care of her. So, he requested a more permanent position at Top Gun so that he could stay in one place to raise his daughter, and it’s been just the two of them ever since.

- - -

Bradley couldn’t have been turned around for more than thirty seconds before he pocketed his phone and reached back out to grab the little pink dress off the rack to show his daughter. But, when he turned back, Caroline was nowhere to be seen.

Ok, don’t panic, Bradley tells himself. She can’t have gone far.

“Caroline?” He calls out calmly, eyes darting around the surrounding area as he spins to look in every direction.

When he doesn’t receive a response, Bradley puts down the dress he was holding and begins to walk among the sea of clothing racks, still calling out his daughter’s name.

He searches the entire girl’s section of the store without success and decides to broaden his search, his heart beginning to speed up in his chest. Ok, he’s starting to panic.

Bradley picks up his pace, maneuvering from one section of the store to another, asking the other customers and few employees that mill about if they’ve seen his daughter.

He knows he must look crazed, practically sprinting, his sneakers squeaking as he moves across the shiny floors as his repeated calls of Caroline’s name become increasingly more frantic — panting and on the verge of tears by the time he’s finished searching the entirety of the large department store to no avail.

Bradley stands frozen in the middle of the store, tears pricking his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly on the brink of hyperventilating. He’s at a loss for what to do. His mind racing through all of the worst scenarios. What if she’s hurt? What if someone took her?

It’s his job to protect his little girl and make sure that she’s always safe, and he failed her. He’s all that Caroline has, and he feels like a failure of a father.

- - -

You’re walking through the busy mall with a couple of bags in hand, all finished with your shopping and ready to head home when you see her.

A little girl — tiny really, she can’t be older than five — with curls a golden shade bordering between both blonde and brown, standing by the bottom of the escalator, alone.

Playing with her little fingers as she looks around the crowd aimlessly with unshed tears in her big, brown eyes. The scared look on her adorable little face breaks your heart, and you know you can’t leave without making sure she’s okay.

You approach her slowly, as if she were a frightened animal that might bolt at any moment, speaking softly so as not to scare her any further. “Hey, honey. Are you alright?”

The look she gives you is a shy one, eyes widening before she looks down at her light-up sneakers and shakes her head.

You can tell the little girl is apprehensive about talking to a stranger — smart.

Kneeling down to be at her eye-level before speaking again, and setting your shopping bags down at your sides, you tell her your name and ask for hers.

“I’m Caroline.” Her voice is sweet and shy, a near-whisper as she chances a glance up at you, eyes still shining with tears when she lifts her head.

“Are you here alone, Caroline? Are you with your mommy and daddy?” You ask her gently.

She shakes her head again, curls swaying along with the motion. “I was with my daddy, but I lost him.”

The adorable pout on her lips might’ve made you smile, if it weren’t for the tears that follow, finally spilling from her eyes and trailing down onto her rosy cheeks.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I can help you find him!” You soothe as your thumb moves to brush her tears away. “Where did you last see him?”

Caroline sniffles and thinks for a moment before speaking, a little bit louder this time.

“We were buying me clothes for preschool in one of the big stores, and my daddy had to answer the phone so I was looking all by myself. And then I got lost and I couldn’t find him.”

You continue to wipe at Caroline’s tears as she talks in that rambling sort of way that all little kids do.

“Preschool, wow. That sounds fun!” You try to take her mind off of the scary situation for a second and she nods excitedly at that, still sniffling. “What’s your daddy’s name?”

Her tears finally begin to slow as she talks about her dad.

“His name’s Bradley, but everybody calls him Rooster! He flies planes!” Caroline explains excitedly.

You can’t help but chuckle as you tell her that her dad has a funny nickname, and that his job sounds fun. You’re happy to see Caroline give you a small smile back.

“Do you remember what store you and your daddy were shopping in?”

She has to think for a long moment, the most adorable, pensive pout you’ve ever seen on her face as she tries to remember.

She doesn’t know the name of the store, but she is able to describe it for you, and you’re able to make a distinction from there.

Standing back to your full height, you readjust your bags on one arm and extend your free hand out towards Caroline, offering her a reassuring smile.

“I know exactly where that is! Ready to go find him?” Caroline grins as she takes your hand with an excited nod, tears no longer visible in her big brown eyes.

The two of you walk on in search of her dad — Bradley, and Caroline talks your ear off the whole way. She is absolutely adorable, telling you more about herself and asking you questions about yourself too, and you find yourself falling more in love with her sweet disposition by the minute.

Within five minutes, you make it to the store that Caroline had been in last, hopeful to reunite her with her father who you figure must be worried sick.

- - -

Bradley isn’t quite sure how long he’s been scouring the massive department store looking for his four-year old daughter— though it feels like forever, time seeming to move in slow motion— on the brink of a panic attack and just about ready to phone the police when he hears a familiar high-pitched shriek of, “DADDY!”

He turns around at lightning speed — and practically gives himself whiplash — to see Caroline approaching him, holding a woman’s hand.

When she lets go and bounds right towards him, Bradley lets out a massive sigh of relief. Kneeling down to catch his little girl in his arms, he feels like he might cry all over again, overcome with a flurry of emotions now that his daughter is safe in his embrace once again.

“Caroline, baby, you scared me half to death!” Bradley can’t keep the emotion out of his voice as he lifts his daughter into his arms and stands back up to his full height, lying his head atop of hers and squeezing her tight. “You can’t just wander off like that, you could’ve gotten hurt.”

He tries his best not to sound angry — she is only four after all, and he’s just thankful that she’s okay. Caroline’s arms wrap around his neck as he holds her tight, her face burrowing into the crook of Bradley’s neck.

“Daddy, I’m fine!” She insists. “And I made a new friend!”

It’s only then that Bradley looks up at the woman who had reunited him with his little girl, standing a few feet away and watching them with a sweet smile.

Oh. It’s only then that he realizes, you are beautiful.

Bradley’s honestly convinced you might be an angel. Pretty, bright eyes and a glowing sweet smile that nearly takes his breath away. And, you’d been kind enough to help his daughter safely find her way back to him.

Bradley just stares for a moment, lips parted and still holding Caroline in his arms, and he hopes that you’ll chalk it up to the overwhelming nature of the situation.

“Uh– thank you so much for bringing Caroline back to me. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” He rushes out, hand cradling the back of his baby’s hair. “I-I’m…” Fuck, why is he so nervous all of a sudden?

“…Bradley,” You finish for him. “Or, Rooster. Right?”

His brows furrow, a pensive look on his very handsome face, a look that you realize matches the one you had seen on his daughter’s face earlier. Cute.

“How did you-” He begins to question how you know his name — and call-sign — but is promptly cut off by his four-year old practically screaming in his ear.

“I told her, Daddy!” Caroline exclaims proudly.

For a man called ‘Rooster’, you sure were not expecting Caroline’s dad to be this good looking. But, fuck, is he hot.

Though he’s clearly got a few years on you, Bradley’s all tall and sun-kissed, tan skin. Broad shoulders and big, muscular arms on display in his fitted black t-shirt while he holds up his little girl, sandy curls a shade or two darker than hers. Whiskey-colored eyes that match his daughter’s, that you can only describe as puppy dog eyes.

His deep, husky voice that sends tingles down your spine and beautifully shaped pink lips framed by a mustache that you’re surprised you find so attractive.

“Well, I’m glad I could be of help.” You hope that he can’t see the flush you can feel blooming on your cheeks as you speak. “And, Caroline was great company!”

You wink at the little girl who giggles against his shoulder, and when Bradley smiles at you graciously, you can’t help but smile back. God, his smile is pretty.

Up in his arms, Caroline gets distracted playing with her dad's curls. There are a few moments of silence between you, though not uncomfortable, before Bradley speaks up again.

“Well, thank you again. I–uh,” Bradley clears his throat.

“I guess we should let you go. We’ve gotta find some clothes for this little troublemaker, otherwise she’ll have to go to school wearing a garbage bag.” Bradley jokes in a playful tone, bouncing his daughter around in his arms as she giggles, and you can’t help but laugh too at the infectious sound.

“Daddy, wait!” Caroline shouts out before you can answer him.

“What is it, little bug?” Bradley murmurs as he strokes a hand lovingly over her curls. Caroline turns in his hold, directing her next question toward you.

“Can you come with us?” Oh, her puppy dog eyes are even cuter than Bradley’s, and you imagine he probably has a hard time ever saying no to her. “Daddy has no idea what he’s doing when it comes to girl clothes.”

You can’t contain the giggle that escapes your lips as Caroline dramatically rolls her eyes and Bradley lets out an offended huff, the two of them staring at each other with matching, petulant pouts. Adorable.

“That is not true!” Bradley practically shrieks at his daughter and it only makes you laugh more.

“And, honey, she probably doesn’t want–” Bradley begins to protest before you interject.

“I’d love to.” You chime in with a coy grin and Bradley looks back at you, bewildered.

Sure, you figure he probably has a beautiful wife waiting for him at home, but what’s the harm in spending just a little more time with a handsome pilot and his adorable daughter? So far, you’re having a lot of fun.

Bradley’s brows furrow skeptically. “Are you…sure?”

You purse your lips, staring up toward the ceiling for a moment as if you really need to think about it before you grin and offer him a one-shouldered shrug. “Yeah, I’ve got nowhere to be.”

You hope you don’t seem too eager, but the matching smiles you receive from both Bradley and Caroline tell you they don’t mind.

Bradley’s honestly a bit shocked that you— a pretty, young, complete stranger, want to stick around to hang out with him and his kid, but he isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

So, once you assure him again that you’re happy to stay, he sets Caroline back on her feet and offers — more like insists — that he holds your shopping bags, and the three of you set off to peruse the oh-so daunting girl’s clothing section of the store once again.

Bradley watches in awe as Caroline grabs your hand, tugging you along as you help her pick out some articles of clothing.

The two of you chatter the whole time, bringing him into the conversations too, holding up articles of clothing and asking what he thinks, and Bradley is delighted to see how good you are with his daughter.

“This would look pretty on you!” Caroline holds out a little girl’s purple sweater dress in your direction. “Wouldn’t it, Daddy?”

You’re biting back a grin as Bradley looks to you and then back to his daughter and chuckles.

“I don’t think it comes in her size, Bug.” Bradley’s gaze returns to you, mirth in his eyes when he continues, “But yeah, it would look very pretty.”

You know he can see the obvious flush to your cheeks this time as his lips pull up into a smirk.

Shaking your head, you look back down to Caroline with a grin. “I think it’d look even prettier on your dad.” That pulls a giggle out of both of them.

Things go on like that as the three of you continue to shop, Bradley admiring how sweet and funny you are, how patient you are with his daughter.

The two of you discreetly sharing amused looks at some of the obscure things Caroline says that could only come out of a little kid’s mouth, banter coming easily between the three of you.

After a short while, Caroline has an array of new outfits for school— and a new stuffed animal after some begging and very convincing puppy dog eyes from his four-year old while you stood by and tried not to giggle, and Bradley knows that he wants to get to know you more.

He hasn’t done much in the way of dating since becoming a single father. Aside from the simple lack of time, Bradley’s always been afraid that most women won’t want to stick around when they find out he has a kid.

That they might not get along with his daughter or worse, be upset when they realize that Caroline will always be his number one priority.

Too scared to let his daughter get attached to someone only for them to leave, Caroline is his world and he’s been content with that.

But now, after seeing the way you are with his little girl — and in such a short time, he can’t help but think that he already likes you being a part of it.

With the clothing shopping done, the sun is setting by the time you're all ready leave the mall. Bradley and Caroline walk you out to your car, and both are reluctant to say goodbye to you just yet. You can't say you’re too happy to part with them either.

As he helps you put your bags in the trunk of your car, Bradley knows he needs to take his shot now — or as Hangman likes to tell him, he needs to get off his perch.

“Hey, could I possibly get your number?” Bradley asks, trying to sound as confident as his voice can possibly muster. “I’d love to see you again.”

Caroline pipes up from next to you, jumping up and down while she still holds your hand. “Me too!”

Is he asking you out? The breathless laugh you let out is one of shock, and you’re sure the look on your face matches as you glance between the adorable father-daughter duo.

You’re also sure that you’re blushing again.

For a moment, you can only stand frozen, lips parted, and when you realize you’ve yet to answer his question, you promptly close your mouth and attempt to school your features, quickly nodding your head.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You tell him shyly, and Bradley can’t help but smirk at the color that’s begun to paint your cheeks.

He hands over his phone and tries not to smile too hard as you type in your number, glancing up at him and biting back your own grin while you send yourself a text so that you’d have his too.

You kneel down to squeeze Caroline into a hug, the little girl happily wrapping her arms around your neck. You leave her with a promise that you’ll see them again soon, though the way you look up at her father over her shoulder lets Bradley know that that promise is directed at the both of them.

When you stand, Bradley gazes at you with a thoughtful smile before bringing you into a hug too.

“Have a good night, sweetheart.” The deep rumble of his voice so close to your ear, as well as the heat of his touch, leave your body feeling warm all over. That warmth never fading even as you watch Bradley and Caroline cross the parking lot, hand-in-hand, to get to their car.

Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t mind seeing him again soon.

- - -

Thank you for reading! Leave a comment/reblog if you enjoyed, feedback is always appreciated! x

Part 2 will be up next Wednesday! <3

UPDATE: you can read part two here ! ❤️

tag list: @wkndwlff @sebsxphia @chaoticassidy @dempy @ohgodnotagainn @shanimallina87 @mavrellover91 @memoriesat30 @that-bitch-bri @classyunknownlover @hisredheadedgoddess28 @foreverrandomwritings @lt-spork @princess76179 @gigisimsonmars @kidd3ath @averyhotchner @sammyrenae68 @tv-fanatic18 @one-sweet-gubler @simonscumsock

also tagging some people who reblogged/replied to the sneak peek : @fanficfandomlove @hangmanssunnies @milestomaverick @maverick-wingman @teacupsandtopgun @katiemcrae @colourfulsuitwonderland @becks-things @bradshawsbaddie @bradshawsbitch @valhallaas @roger-that-cap @woodkiller

. . .

#bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x y/n #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun fic #miles teller #dad bradley #single dad bradley #my writing

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 2 months

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I Hate How Much I Want You | Frankie Morales x Reader | Enemies to Lovers Part 2

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact.

Specific warnings: Enemies to Lovers, Food mention, weed and cigarettes mention/smoking, Frankie grovels, heavy petting, oral (F receiving), unprotected PiV (reader is on BC and trust around STI’s implied), Softdom!Reader, Switch Frankie, Use of “zorra(slut)” and general filthy mouth from Frankie, Florida Humidity.

Let me know if I missed anything!

[AO3 Link]

Thank you @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for beta-ing this real quick. Thank you for the encouragement from @merz-8 @noxturnalpascal @covetyou @strang3lov3 @beefrobeefcal @medellintangerine and @speckledemerald for all your horny support <;3

Word count: 6k

Frankie Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

You did it, you texted him back embarrassingly quickly. Slick fingers fumbling with your phone to pause your porn as his message came through. You had been seconds away from coming. You can’t believe he still wants to help after you ejected him so forcefully him from your home. You send him a text, just about managing with one hand as you continue to toy with your clit. Francisco Morales is not about to cock block your hard-earned orgasm.

You: Fine, I’m free all day.

You’re about to swipe back to your porn when you see him starting to type away immediately. You bite your lip, your spine tingles as you slowly build yourself back up to your peak.

Frankie: I’ll pick up the parts and some lunch, see you at 12.

You don’t respond, nor do you resume the video. Instead, you opt to think about Frankie as you increase the pressure on your clit. The way his muscles flexed under the dark tank top he wore, his salt and pepper waves that curl slightly at the ends. You imagine what it’d be like to have him pressed against your back, bending you over the counter as he fucked you from behind. You ache to feel his scruff scrape along your jaw as he whispers filth in your ear.

You’re coming hard in seconds, Frankie’s name on your lips as you feel your slick drip down the curve of your ass. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you tilt your head back, stretching out in post-orgasmic bliss. You eventually get up, making sure to pee and clean up before settling back down under your sheets.

You’ve never been so excited to see Frankie before, in fact, you often dread it.

It seems that there really is a first time for everything.

~*~

Frankie sits in his truck, parked down the street from your house. The clock on his dash reads 11:47.

He’s early.

Just like you, he’s way too excited to be back here. His fingertips itch as he tries to decide if he should just bite the bullet and leave his truck now. It wouldn’t be seen as over-eager, surely? He’s just making good on a promise to a friend.

Except you’re not his friend, he has made that pretty clear over the last few months. Anxiety churns in his stomach as he wishes he’d brought something to smoke with him. Even a cigarette would suffice. Instead, he’s chewing his lip, torn up over you and the way you looked so desperately hurt last night. He removes his ball cap with one hand before running his fingers through his damp waves, the Florida humidity doing a number on his hair.

He looks over to the plastic bag from the DIY store and his spare toolkit. He sighs as he sees not one, not two, but the three different faucets he had picked out for you. He tries to reason it that he’s just giving you options because it’s the nice thing to do. Really, he just wanted to please you, make amends for his shitty behaviour. Then he looks at the takeout bag in his lap and his stomach growls.

“Fuck it.”

He sighs to himself as he replaces his hat before grabbing the bag of faucets and his toolkit as he heads out of the cab.

He ignores the clock on the dash that reminds him it’s only 11:50.

~*~

The knock at your door startles you, before you grumble internally once again over the fact Frankie is spurning your perfectly good doorbell. But your annoyance is quickly muted by the smugness that comes with a sudden realisation.

He’s early.

You almost dance on the spot with morbid amusement at the fact that Frankie is already here. You don’t bother lingering this time, practically sprinting to the door to gloat. You pull the door open in one smooth motion and your witty remark dies on your lips.

It’s unfair how good he looks. There’s you, in your jean shorts and tank top, suffering from the extreme humidity. Your skin is sticky, your brow is beading with sweat, and you shift uncomfortably as you feel the wet heat pool in your core.

Then, there’s Frankie, a light sheen to his skin as his toolkit hangs off his shoulder, his hair sticks to his forehead and neck. His thick thighs fill his cargo shorts as his belly swells a little over his white tank top. No over-shirt today so you have an unhindered, front row seat to the way his tan skin flexes over his strong arms. Not to mention his neck, thick and freckled. Fuck, you need to stop staring.

His face is flushed, cheeks rosy as he looks you over. There’s a darkness to his gaze that makes you shiver. Clearly neither of you are being subtle.

“So, the sink?” You squeak, your voice embarrassingly high-pitched as you turn away, your heart is hammering in your chest as you try and calm down.

“Sure, I got you a few different options to choose from,” Frankie explains as he trails behind you.

You can feel him, the heat rolling off him is palpable as he shadows your every move.

“You could have just gotten me the one, I’m not fussy,” you say without thinking as you lean against the counter next to the sink, you look up to see Frankie looking a little crest-fallen and you course correct, “But thank you, that was kind.”

“My pleasure,” Frankie says as he sets down the various bags on the kitchen table, “Don’t have to stick around, I promise not to fuck it up.”

“I’ve got nothing better to do,” you say with a shrug as you notice the takeout bag, it’s from your favourite burger place.

He remembered?

Frankie says nothing more as he resumes his place on the floor from last night. He gets to work, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrates. His hat rests next to him on the floor. It’s almost domestic, him fixing your sink as you watch.

You feel a twinge of remorse in your chest as you see the way he can’t keep your gaze. His eyes flit to you every few minutes, as if he can feel you staring. You head to the fridge and grab a pitcher of iced tea, grabbing two glasses from the cabinets. You set down one of the glasses next to Frankie’s cap on the floor.

“I’m real sorry about things went yesterday-,” Frankie starts just as you pipe up.

“About last night-,” you say but you both freeze, eyes locking across the small kitchen, and you can’t help but mirror the smirk that spreads across Frankie’s plush lips.

“Go on, you first,” you insist as you take a deliberate sip of your iced tea.

“I just want you to know I am sorry you heard that shit I said to Will and Alyssa,” Frankie says with a sigh as he rocks up onto his feet, “, I was in a real bad place.”

“That’s not a real apology, Morales,” you say with a smile, appreciating his honesty if nothing else, “Go on.”

“Right,” he nods as he rifles through the plastic bag with the faucets, “First up, which one?”

You cross the short distance and admire the three different options. All options are fairly modern looking, but you linger for a while, selfishly getting closer to Frankie as you pretend to contemplate the options seriously. In reality you don’t care, you just want a working sink. You also just want to be in Frankie’s orbit.

“I like this one,” you say softly, your voice a little husky. You place your hand on the plastic packaging lightly, fingertips lingering as you look up into Frankie’s dark eyes.

“Yeah, that was my first choice too,” he says as he picks up the package, his fingertips brush yours and you don’t pull away, letting the callouses on his hands scrape against the back of your hand. You see the way his neck tenses as you fawn up at him.

“Who knew you had good taste?” You tease as you step away.

“Full of surprises, me,” Frankie says with a low chuckle as he clears his throat.

“On that note,” you say with a coy smile as you lean back against the counter, “You were grovelling?”

There’s a brief flash of emotion on Frankie’s face as he picks up his hat, securing it on his head as he grabs his glass of iced tea. His jaw ticks to the side as he takes a long gulp of the sweet drink.

“Right,” he says as he sets the glass down, turning back to the faucet as he disconnects the old one, “I was an ass,” he says with a sigh as his thick fingers make easy work with the tools and various intricacies of the faucet, “I can’t take it back, but I do want to say I’m sorry, for how I made you feel, and for the things I said.”

“I appreciate that, thank you,” you say with a nod, “I didn’t mean to ambush you like that last night either, I’m sorry too, you were doing me a solid.”

“Don’t mention it,” Frankie says with a huff, “I had it coming.”

“Maybe,” you concede with a smile, “But I don’t think I was completely fair, you’ve had your own share of shit to deal with.”

“My addiction, and my recovery, are my burdens. No-one else’s,” Frankie says with a stern look on his face. You hate how the shift in his tone makes you squirm; you know he’s not telling you off, but it doesn’t feel any less authoritative.

“Understood,” you nod as you gesture vaguely with your hand, urging him to continue.

“But I don’t do well with change,” he says as he continues working, looking away from you, “And Santi brought you into the group without so much as a heads up. I got defensive, I fell into an ugly pattern of behaviours. I’m sorry.”

“That’s very big of you, thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he says with a shrug as he stretches with a groan, “Looks like it’s good to go.”

You hover at his elbow as he tests the tap, the water flows freely and stops abruptly when Frankie flicks it off. The sound of running water halts and you’re left with your hip brushing Frankie’s thigh.

“I really appreciate you doing this, Frankie,” you say, nudging his side with your elbow as you look up to see his eyes already locked on you. He’s leaning his one arm on the counter as he towers over you, and you can’t help but clench your thighs.

“Like I said,” he mumbles as he turns his body towards you. His tongue glides across his lower lip and you can’t ignore the charged energy between you now, “Just helping out a friend.”

“It’s not just about the sink, Frankie,” you say as you tentatively brush your fingertips over his hand.

“Oh? What else is this about?” He asks and there’s a light dancing behind his eyes, a smugness that tells you he already knows but he wants you to say it.

“There’s another reason why I’ve been keeping my distance,” you admit softly as you inch closer to him.

“That right?” Frankie breathes, his voice shaky as he threads his fingers through yours. You can’t believe it, the shift in your dynamic is giving you whiplash.

“Despite everything, Morales,” you say as you bring your other hand up to rest on his sternum. The contact sends heat rippling through your body as Frankie hums deep in his chest, “I think you’re a good guy, and really fucking hot.”

“Yeah?” He rumbles, his free hand coming up to trail up your bicep the contact makes you shiver as you try to stifle a whine, “You think I’m hot?”

“I’m not saying it again,” you say with a little bite to your tone, “But I had to keep my distance, I didn’t want to get hurt.”

“I understand,” Frankie says with a subtle nod, his fingertips skimming your collarbone now, your cunt clenches in anticipation, “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well, you did,” you say as you slide your hand up to cup his jaw, “But you can make it up to me, if you want?”

“Yeah?” Frankie rasps as he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment.

“I want you to tell me what you want, Francisco,” you say softly as your fingertips move to the back of his head, threading through the damp hair there as you tug lightly, “If you want me so bad, I want you to beg.”

Frankie’s jaw falls slack as a strangled groan bubbles forth from the back of his throat. His half-hard cock stirs in his shorts as you close the gap between you both, pressing yourself against him. Your nipples harden as you feel the way his body shudders under your touch.

“I want to fuck you,” Frankie’s voice is a hushed rasp as he ghosts his fingertips along the angle of your jaw, “I want to make you scream,” he continues as the calloused pad of his thumb brushes against your lips, “I want to please you, querida.”

“Yeah?” You purse your lips against Frankie’s thumb, your lips tingling at the promise his touch brings, “You think you deserve to have me, Francisco? Do you think you can make good on your promises?”

“I will, or I’ll die trying,” his other hand tugs on your own, pulling you against him as he flattens his palm against the small of your back, “Let me try, please.”

You slowly open your mouth, tongue teasing against his thumb as you wrap your lips around the thick digit. A soft moan escapes you as you suck slowly, purposefully, as you maintain eye contact with Frankie. His eyes are glassy as he whines, brow furrowed as you release his thumb with a lewd pop.

“Bedroom, now.”

You order as you push back from Frankie, the sudden action jarring enough that you slip his grasp. A determined growl rumbles from behind you as you stride towards the stairs. You don’t bother looking back over your shoulder, you can hear his heavy footsteps gaining on you and there’s a primal thrill to it. You pick up the pace, practically jogging to your open bedroom door as adrenaline and arousal scorch through your veins.

You’re almost over the threshold when you feel the press of his palms on your waist as he pulls you back against him. You don’t have time to proffer a witty remark before Frankie’s mouth is on your throat. The rough scratch of his facial hair along the slope of your shoulder has you squirming as he nudges your head to the side with his strong nose.

“Going to make you feel so good,” Frankie says with a growl before sucking gently against the column of your neck. His one hand trails down your front and you gasp as he cups your sex through your shorts. His thick fingers tease at the denim where it covers your aching cunt; fingertips swirling over your clothed core, and you can’t help the desperate little sounds you make as pleasure rocks through you.

“Frankie, please.”

You yelp as his teeth nip at the shell of your ear and your panties cling to your cunt, you’re dripping for him.

“Call me Francisco, please,” he huffs into your ear as he walks you forward, “Sounds so good when you say my name.”

“Yeah? You like it when I beg you to fuck me, Francisco?” You ask as your knees hit the edge of the bed, but you stop yourself from falling forward just yet. You know that’s what Frankie wants, but you’re not about to give over control just yet. You feel him straining against you, not wanting to manhandle you aggressively it seems, but you can feel the need in the way his cock presses against your ass.

“I do,” he whispers in your ear, “Let me show you how sorry I am, querida.”

“Show me, Francisco, let’s see if you can make me scream your name,” you lean back as you speak, pressing your cheek against his.

His lips brush against yours as he angles his head down to you, it’s like being struck by lightning. You gasp as he kisses you, almost tenderly, before you let go completely. You kiss him back, pulling his lower lip between your teeth. You’re rewarded with a sharp intake of breath as his lips part for you. You lick into his mouth teasingly, asking for permission and he slots his mouth over yours in response.

His tongue slides into your mouth, dancing with your own as he tastes you. His groans rumbling through you as he delves deeper past your lips, mapping you out, claiming you. You’re pliable beneath his large hands as you feel him bending you at the hip. The hand cupping your sex increases the pressure. The heel of his palm grinds against your clothed clit as his fingertips knead at where your shorts are beginning to soak through.

“On your front,” Frankie growls as he places a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You do as he says, flopping forward onto the bed as gracefully as you can with his large hand still working at you through your shorts. It’s been a while since you last let someone take relative control in the bedroom. Often, you’re used to dictating the pace, your partners needing gentle encouragement – or sometimes a very firm hand – to ensure you got what you need from sex. But this is different, Frankie is different.

There’s a pause as Frankie removes his hand from your cunt, and you’re about to turn over and ask what the hold up is, when his hot palms spread you out. His fingers digging into the backs of your knees as he opens you up.

“Frankie, what are you-?”

You practically choke on your words as you feel him press his face into the apex of your thighs. He buries himself against the damp crotch of your shorts and inhales as he grinds his nose against your core.

“Fuck,” he hisses as you feel him mouth against your covered cunt, his hands travel up the backs of your thighs as he holds you open for him. You squirm at the depravity of his thick fingers pinning you down, his face pressed hard against such a sensitive spot. Being fully clothed only makes you wetter, like there’s something even more profane about the action while your shorts cling tight to your desperate pussy.

“Frankie please,” you whine, and you can’t stop yourself, you didn’t think you’d be begging so quickly, so easily for someone you were ready to kick to the curb only yesterday.

“What do you want?” Frankie asks as his fingertips slip under the hem of your shorts, trailing over the swell of your ass.

“I want your mouth on my cunt, take my shorts off,” you huff into the sheets as you feel the heat burn over your cheekbones.

“Yes ma’am,” Frankie growls as he places a kiss to your inner thigh before his hands are on your hips, “Turn over for me.”

You carefully rotate your body, mindful not to kick Frankie in the face in your eagerness. You lie back and you clench around nothing at the way Frankie is looking at you. His eyes are glassy and blown out with desire, his face is pink in places where the denim of your shorts has irritated his skin. You lower your gaze to see the painfully obvious bulge in his shorts and you swallow around the lump in your throat.

He’s big.

“So pretty like this,” he says absently as he rakes his eyes over your body. You’re still fully clothed but you’ve never felt so bare in your life.

“Frankie-,” you’re about to beg again when he makes a face at you as he hisses between his teeth.

“Please, call me Francisco, I really like it when you do,” there’s a hint of a challenge in his voice and you nod slowly as you stare him down.

“Please, Francisco,” you say as you bring both hands up to grope your tits over your tank top, “Show me how good you are with that dirty mouth of yours,” you spread your legs wide for him as you speak, and the way Frankie’s nostrils flare makes you squirm.

Frankie settles himself down between your thighs as he throws his cap off to the side. It hits the floor with a soft thud, but you aren’t focusing on the hat anymore. Frankie’s calloused hands trail up from your knees, scraping deliciously against the soft skin of your inner thighs. He dips his fingertips under the denim once more and you feel him shudder as they brush the outline of your lace panties.

“Don’t tell me you wore something nice for me?” He asks as he smirks up at you, his cheek resting on your right thigh as he waits for your response.

“No, Francisco, I wanted to wear lacey panties in the middle of summer in Florida, I like the way wet lace chafes just right.”

You’re taunting him and the way his cheek dimples, you know he’s loving it as much as you are.

“Poor baby,” he hums softly as he brings one hand up to pop the button of your shorts open, “Let me help you out. Let’s get rid of those wet panties, yeah?”

You don’t answer, the condescending tone of his voice makes your head fuzzy. You’re so used to being the one doing all the talking, it’s a blissful role reversal for you. You watch as Frankie slowly pulls on the zipper before you lift your ass for him to tug the oppressively tight fabric down. You keen upwards as you feel the humid air hit your slick panties.

“Fu-uck,” Frankie rasps as he drops your shorts to the side of the bed, his eyes firmly fixed on the slick, glistening lace just inches from his face, “I’d ask if this was all for me,” he says as he lowers his mouth to your lace-covered sex, “But I think we both know it is.”

You don’t have time to make a snide comment, nor do you think you could with how blissed out you are. Frankie’s lips latch onto your clothed clit and you cry out as his hot tongue swirls slow, lazy circles over the already drenched fabric.

“Francisco,” you cry out as he pressures your clit just right, you see stars behind your eyelids. You’re embarrassingly close already.

“So sensitive,” he hums as he teases a finger up and down the thin strip of lace covering your core, “So wet.”

You’re about to beg again when you feel the drag of his rough fingertips slide under the seam of your panties. You arch up, your head falling back against the sheets as you once again feel the warm air hit your slick cunt. You hiss a little as the fabric that clings to you peels away with a sharp pinch.

“S’okay, I got you,” Frankie whispers as he rolls your panties off your feet, you force your eyes open, looking down just as he swipes his tongue through your folds. It’s slow, deliberate, and makes your toes curl as the hot drag culminates with his plush lips kissing your clit. The press of his mouth on your most sensitive spot punches a strangled moan from your chest.

“Fuck yes,” you whimper, “Fuck yes, Francisco.”

He doesn’t answer verbally, instead he teases your clit in soft, barely-there flicks of his tongue as he sucks your sensitive bud into his mouth. The pleasure shoots through you as you writhe under him. He shifts slightly, draping your calves over his broad shoulders as he presses his whole face against your cunt.

“So fucking sweet,” he snarls as you feel him shake his head back and forth, lapping at your clit as he moves.

“Fra-,” you stutter, unable to form his full name, pleasure driving every conscious thought from your mind as you build to your peak.

“Go on, come for me,” he goads you as he holds you down with one of his strong arms. You feel the weight of it pin you down as you try and buck your hips. Your spine tingles with every flick of his tongue, every groan that vibrates through your clit.

“I’m-,” you cry out, loud and throaty as you clench around nothing, your gasping pleas filling the room as you come hard. You whine and scream as Frankie keeps going as your body is rocked with overstimulation.

“So pretty when you come querida,” he says softly as he eases off, peppering your slick folds and clit with gentle, teasing kisses, “Can you give me another?”

“Francisco,” you gasp as you feel two thick fingers tease at your entrance, “Want your dick, please.”

“So eager,” he chuckles softly as he eases the tips of his fingers inside you, teasing little pulses right at your entrance that have you arching your back as you whine in frustrated overstimulation, “Where is the fire from earlier? I thought you were in control querida?”

“Fuck you,” you hiss but there’s no bite in it, you know he’s right. You love that he’s right. It’s the kind of fuck you’ve been wanting for years, the kind where you can just let go, let him take what he needs from you while simultaneously giving you more than you’ve ever dreamed of.

“Like I said,” he smirks up at you as you struggle to keep your eyes open, “Come for me again and I will.”

“Stop teasing me and fuck me with your fingers, Morales,” you snap, wresting for some control of the situation.

“There she is, my little zorra,” Frankie hums in triumph as he eases his thick fingers inside you. You want to ask him what that means but you’re blinded by the way he sinks all the way down to the knuckle in one swift motion.

You moan at the way he doesn’t let you adjust, your slick walls already accommodating them with minimal effort. He curls them up as he drags them slowly in and out of you, pushing and pulling at that sensitive spot that makes your whole body twitch. Every time he hits it, he smirks, gauging your reaction as he works you right back to the blinding peak.

“God! Your pussy feels so good, squeezing my fingers so tight,” Frankie babbles, as if to himself before flicking the blunt tip of his tongue against your clit, “Come for me.”

You clamp down hard on his fingers as his verbal command sends you reeling. Your mouth is dry as you cry out soundlessly. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as he fucks you through your orgasm. The languid pace careful, controlled, as he works you through it.

“There you go,” he says softly, his lips brushing against the inside of your thigh as he slowly eases out of you, “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

You want to say something, anything, but all you can do is gulp in deep breaths as you try and ground yourself. You stare up at the ceiling for what feels like an eternity before you feel the soothing touch of Frankie’s fingers tracing patterns on your thigh.

“Back in the room?” He asks you with a smirk as he lies there, his cheek pressed against your knee as he simply watches you.

“Yeah,” you nod with earnest, “That was just fucking amazing,” you chuckle, and you’re rewarded with a deep rumble of satisfaction from Frankie’s chest.

“Good,” he says airily as he nuzzles his nose against your sensitive skin, “Want to keep going?”

“Fuck yes,” you huff through your nose as you prop yourself up on your elbows, “Just needed to catch my breath.”

“You got condoms?” Frankie asks and you’re suddenly sobered at the request. You’re so caught up in the moment you didn’t even think about using one.

“I do,” you say but you raise an eyebrow at him, “Do you trust me, Francisco?”

“Yes,” he says with a questioning look on his face as he palms his cock through his shorts, “Why?”

“I’m on the pill,” you say as you retreat backwards up the bed, “C’mere,” you say with a curl of your index finger and Frankie moves without hesitation, still fully clothed as you spread your legs for him.

“You been checked recently, Francisco?” You ask as he kneels between your legs, leaning back on his calves as he looks at you with a wry expression on his lips.

“A few months ago, all clear,” he says cautiously as he runs his one hand through his slick hair, “Why, you want me to take you raw?”

You stifle a groan at the harsh language, you’re regaining control over the dynamic slowly. No way are you breaking stride now.

“No, Francisco,” you purr as you manoeuvre up onto your knees, meeting his gaze as you toy with the hem of his tank top, “I want to ride you raw.”

Frankie’s mouth drops open as you push up the edge of his tank top, forcing it up to his armpits as you lock and suck at the swell of his belly. He pulls it up and over his head as he watches you with wide eyes.

He’s sweaty and musky on your tongue as you follow the light curls of his happy trail. You press your nose against his belly as you unbutton his shorts. You whine at the sight of his grey boxer briefs, and the way the fabric darkens over the head of his cock.

“Look at you,” you coo as you palm his length, “Francisco, you’ve been holding out on me,” you say with a smirk as you look up into his lust-blown eyes. He stammers as you cup his balls through his briefs and press a kiss to the tip of his clothed dick. You know he won’t last long, but you can’t help but tease him a little.

“Strip for me,” you whisper against the side of his shaft as you squeeze his balls gently. He groans softly before you pull away, already stripping your tank top and bra as you watch him do as he’s told. His eyes are glassy, it’s as if a switch has flipped in his brain. The realisation hits you immediately.

Frankie likes this. He likes being told what to do.

He pulls his briefs down in one swift motion, letting his thick cock spring free and slapping wetly against his abdomen as he hurriedly pushes his briefs and shorts past his knees. He resumes his position on the bed, kneeling as he rests on his laurels. You salivate at the sight of him, his foreskin straining against the head of his cock.

“Good boy,” you breathe, stomach churning delightfully as you see the way Frankie pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, “Legs out,” you gesture for him to straighten his legs and he obeys almost comically fast.

You crawl forward, hands sliding up over his shoulders. Immediately his hands fall to your hips, steadying you as you hover over his lap. It’s surely far too intimate – fucking like this – especially considering how you were at each other’s throats only yesterday. But there’s something about it all that just feels right. You press your forehead against Frankie’s, closing your eyes as his tip notches at your core.

“Oh fuck,” you hiss as you sink down onto his cock, your slick walls clamp down around the intrusion as you split yourself open with his dick. You whine as you reach the base, you’re so full, so snug around his cock.

“Fu-uck,” Frankie echoes as he curls his arms around you pinning you against him, keeping you so impossibly close. You drop your head to rest in the crook of Frankie’s neck. Your lips latching onto his slick skin as you clench hard around him.

“I’m going to move,” you whisper against Frankie’s neck, “Let me use you, Frankie, want to fuck myself on your cock.”

“Please,” he whispers, as you nip along his jaw, “Use me.”

You whimper as you begin to roll your hips forward, lifting up as you savour every inch of his cock raking through you. You catch yourself just before he slips out of you, lingering for a moment, then pushing yourself back down. You cry out at the abrupt stretch as discomfort cedes to pleasure. Frankie’s grip tightens on your waist as you repeat the action again and again.

Each time more and more pleasure rocks through you as you use Frankie’s cock. You know he’s close, his brow is furrowed, and his breaths come in ragged gasps. You’re griding his cock inside you as you lean down to whisper in his ear.

“Fuck me, Francisco,” you say, “Make me scream.”

He groans at the sudden permission to fuck you, body curling around you as he pitches you backwards. He stays buried deep as you’re pushed down into the pillows, your thighs pressed against your chest as Frankie gets you how he wants you.

“Fuck. I’ve wanted this for so long,” Frankie snarls in your ear as he starts to move, his pace picking up rapidly.

“Me too,” you moan as he nudges your g-spot over and over again. You’re whining at every snap of his hips as pleasure arcs through you. Your fingertips dig into his back muscles as you cling to him. He snaps his hips harder and harder until you can’t hold on any longer.

“Francisco!” you cry out as you come hard around his length, your slick walls clamping down hard as you feel him stutter beneath you. He fucks down into you a few more times before he lets out a tight groan as he empties himself inside you. His hips still, your chests pressed together as you grin at one another.

You lie there for a few moments as you both try and catch your breath. Neither of you can stop smiling as you feel Frankie ease his soft cock out of you.

“We need to clean up and we both need to pee,” you say lazily as you roll onto your side. Frankie flops down next to you, a soft oof escaping his lips as he hits the mattress.

“We do,” he agrees as he brushes the back of his knuckles against your cheekbone, “You, ok?”

“Yeah, I’m good, more than good,” you babble as Frankie smiles at you, cheek dimpling delightfully.

“Good,” he says with a soft nod.

There’s so much hanging in the air between you. More than you can worry about right now.

“Let’s get a shower and replace the burgers you brought,” you say as you force yourself up, heading to the bathroom.

“It’s not my fault they’re inedible now,” Frankie grumbles playfully and you smile at him over your shoulder.

“Whatever,” you stick your tongue out at him as you turn on the shower, “Come on, we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Alright, but I’m not the one telling Santi about us,” Frankie growls as he catches up to you, wrapping his arms around you as he nuzzles against the back of your head, “I’ll never live it down.”

“Fine,” you agree with a smirk playing across your lips, “That means you have to tell the Millers.”

The statement hangs heavy in the air before Frankie curses under his breath. He realises too late his mistake and you just smile, leaning back into your former arch-nemesis’ arms, wondering how you got here; and what here even is. But you are sure of one thing.

Now you’ve had a taste of Frankie Morales, you’re never letting him go.

Frankie Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

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bangchansgirlsblog · 7 months

Text

Broken Headsets PT 2

-Chan

Warning: A lot of Angst.

Pairing: BangChan x reader.

Summary: where he snaps at you while working.

!Not proofread!

“Baby I’m so sorry, please open up the door.” Chan’s voice echoes through the door and into the bathroom.

My knees against my chest as I was calming down from a panic attack. The sleeves on my sweater now dump from all the tears it was sucking up.

“G-go away” I cry louder. My body shaking and my salty tears freely running down my hot face.

“I don’t…I don’t want to talk to you right now!”

“Babe I’m sorry okay? I didn’t mean to snap like that. Just let me talk to you. Let me hold you. I’m worried. Your going to have another panic attack”

“BangChan leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you.” I throw whatever was in my reach at the wooden door. Making him jump on the other side of the door. Now HE couldn’t hold back his tears. He wanted to be able to sort it out because he genuinely didn’t mean to snap Or cause anyone pain.

“Okay I’ll give you some time my love, please don’t be angry with me. I’m sorry.” His voice now low and quiet. I had no response because I was so angry and so hurt by him.

I wasn’t being dramatic right?

The sound of his footsteps disappear down the hall making me quickly but softly wipe my tears away and get up to wash my face. The cold water making my body shiver. I stare at myself. Hair up in a bun, eyes red and eye bags deep from all the lack of sleep. A fucking mess.

The front door slamming was what made me jump getting me out of the trance I was in. Had he left? I pick up the container that was on the ground due to the fact I threw it and open the bathroom door.

I find Berry sat in-front of it as if waiting for me. I give her a soft smile and pick her up.

Walking through the house looking for any sign of Chan but there was none.

I glance at the clock and it read 12:45. Anger rises up my chest once again because how dare he leave the house at this hour knowing how much anxiety I have when his out late? Such a selfish bastard!

Get home.

I send him a text and switch off my phone to look around. A mess the house was.

“Shall we clean up Berry?” I look at the dog in my hands who didn’t even seem to be bothered by anything. “I swear I talk to you more than I talk to Chan” a chuckle leaves my lips when she starts licking my face.

“Now come on let’s get started.” I place her down and pick up things and put them away. My body needing the distraction but my mind and thoughts running at a speed of lightning.

Emotions running through “my mind and soul”. Cringe lol.

2:30 am.

The sound of the clock ticking was starting to irritate me and craw under my skin.

Worry slowly crawling up my chest. Where was he? Was he safe? Was he okay? Where could he be?

I hated myself for putting my self through this because after the little stunt he pulled causing me to sit in the bathroom crying my heart out for 2 hours begging for someone to come save me. I was still sat in our living at 2:30 am waiting and wondering where he had gone too.

Did he leave me? Surely he hadn’t cause all his stuff was still here.

My feet slowly taps the floor, something I do when I’m nervous. I tag on my sweater which is now stretched out due to the constant pulling. The material laying between my fingers feeling very satisfying.

“Why do you have to do this to me Chan?” I say softly, talking to myself.

The house was quiet once again like I’m used too.

The lights were off except for his studio room led lights that were on and passing through the glass window.

Berry was now sat on my lap cuddling me because I knew she sensed the stress my body was going through. She always just knew and she always tried to cuddle of just play around whenever Chan or I where going through something.

A sigh leaves my lips. I was tired. I needed sleep but I needed to know if he was safe.

I check my phone to see if he had responded but nothing came through and when I was about to set down the phone it stars to buzz making me jolt up. Han’s name pops up with a picture of me and him when we were at an adventure park in Japan.

I quickly pick up the phone hoping that somehow Chan was with him and they were doing some project.

“Hello?” My voice rough but still soft from all the crying.

“Hey baby.” He says softly from the other end of the phone.

“Hey..”

“Are you doing okay?” He asks, I could hear the nervous tone in his voice.

“Mhm” a hum in response.

“Channie Hyung is with us in the dorms okay? He showed up here really upset so we told him to just stay over until everything is calm,”

I feel my heart break into pieces. Was he really that upset that he didn’t want to stay in the same home as me? He knew how I hated when he didn’t sleep at home.

“Oh, okay that’s alright. Thank you for letting me know,” I tell him. A weigh being lifted off my shoulder because now that I knew he was safe I could sleep or so I thought.

After hanging up the phone. I slowly put Berry aside and cleanup the cold plate that’s till say on the table and decide to finish up the dishes.

The scent of soap filling my nostrils and a warm liquid running down my face. Tears.

Who would have thought that I would be here at the age of 25 doing dishes at 2 am while crying.

My vision was blurry and my legs were weak. My heart beating fast as I could hear it in my ears.

My face was hot and my body trembled from the heart aching sobs that left it.

I couldn’t be under this much stress.

It wasn’t good for the baby.

Pt 1 ⬇️

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tlouadditc · 9 months

Text

screw the cops!!

cop!ellabs x dealer!reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut with plot, mentions of drugs [marijuana], cop!ellabs, dealer!reader, a lil bit of knifeplay, dom!ellabs, sub!reader, use of y/n, reader gets cut a lil bit oops!, probably more but i cant think of it rn

last minute a/n: this was another ask i forgot to put under the question ☹️ anyway thank u for the ask!!

[10:06 pm]

MY FAV ;): heyyy u got an 8th?? i can pick up at the library in 15 :)

you read the text, grumbling as you get up from your couch. you quickly shoot back:

YOU: lmk when ur there

it was supposed to be an off-day; sit in your dorm, watch tv, maybe have someone over, but no. everyone needed your shit at all times. she's lucky she's your favorite -- otherwise you would've told her to fuck off.

locking your door behind you, you get in your car and pull out of your driveway. as you glide through the gentle darkness, you feel random anxiety, like something bad is happening. it could be the lack of sleep. it could be the upcoming deadline you haven't started. it could also be the fact the entire campus is being searched because some dumbass freshman left his- no, sorry, YOUR- weed in his dorm and got the cops called. he didn't snitch luckily; he knows you would've gotten him killed if he did. but now there's a patrol going on until they find who's distributing. it's not like you wanted to live this life- you barely graduated high school, getting a small scholarship to a local college. the debt hit you, parents refused to help you anymore because you're an adult, blah blah blah blah. you ended up here to finally make a stable income and not have to chose between being warm or being fed consistently.

the sob story makes you cringe, snapping back into reality as you park in a spot by the front of the campus library. you pull out your phone and send:

YOU: here. wya

3 bubbles quickly pop up, written with a response:

MY FAV ;): kk coming out now

as you read the text, you hear the front doors swing open and a tall, slim figure gets larger as it comes closer. as she steps into the streetlight, you see her; sophomore dina. her long, onyx hair dances down her back as she comes closer to your car. she rests one arm on your window, other arm reaching into her pocket. she pulls out 35 bucks, tilting her head to the side slightly and smirking. you hand her a small baggie and take the bills out of her hand, shoving it into your pocket. "you're the best," she gushed, taking her arm off your window. she starts to turn to walk back to the library when she says, "oh, by the way, gave my friend your number."

you freeze, looking up at her in pure horror. "you what?"

"okay, chill, she's cool," she quickly explains, putting a hand on her hip in annoyance.

you roll your eyes, "the entire campus is getting fucking raided, for god's sake. cmon, dina."

"so, what? not everyone's a dumbass like that kid was."

you sigh. you guess she's right. plus, more business for you in the long run. she gives some information about this girl; her names ellie. she's a sophomore majoring in astrophysics who transferred from another school in jackson. around 5'5, auburn hair, science nerd. "pretty sure she's gay, too," dina winks.

you roll your eyes once more before pulling out and returning home. as soon as you unlock the door and step in, you check your other phone, an unknown number's texts sitting on the lock screen.

[UNKNOWN NUMBER]: hii this is y/n right?

[UNKNOWN NUMBER]: dina gave me ur number

gotta be ellie, you think to yourself. kinda cute. you don't respond; you hate small talk. no point in trying to get to know each other if you already know what they want. you put your phone down and start to get ready for bed.

an hour later, you get out of your shower and into comfy clothes. as you get into your freshly made bed, your other phone buzzes. you would usually ignore it, but you remember; debate checking the message or leaving it alone until tomorrow. eventually, curiosity gets the best of you and you check your phone. you groan as you read the message:

[11:37pm]

EL: i know its late but can u drop off? i need it :(

goddamnit, leave me alone!

you type up some message along the lines of 'im off today, ask tomorrow bitch,' but decide to be nice. you don't know why, but you only respond with the following:

YOU: off today. ask tmr

3 dots in a bubble move swiftly as a response pops up on your screen:

EL: pleaaaaase itll be quick

you sigh. she's not gonna let up; just like dina.

YOU: fine. ill b at the library.

she hearts your message as you throw on some sweatpants and grab your keys. you go on the same drive but you feel no anxiety this time. it's a newbie, for god's sake- she's the one who's probably nervous. you even put on some music this time, drake lowly lulling in your vehicle. you pull up, same spot as earlier, and you turn down your music. you go to text her, but the doors open before you can press a letter. she's just as dina described- until she gets up to your window. her scattered freckles complimented her bright, emerald eyes. her friendly expression made you soft under her gaze. you didn't realized she was talking for a while until she whispered, "uh... hello?"

"what?" you said, clearly perplexed. she smiled as you remembered what you're there for. she hands you 25 bucks as you place the baggie in her free hand. she lets out a silent "thanks" before you get ready to drive back home.

"uh, actually," she suddenly blurted out, catching your attention. she seemed nervous, like she had something to say, but she was scared of the outcome. "do you mind.. uh.. giving me a ride back home? i mean i walked down here and it's dark so-"

"hop in," you interrupted. it was pretty dark and you wouldn't want patrol on her ass about being out by herself, so you decided to get it over with. she pranced around to the passengers side and practically jumped in.

the ride to her dorm was quiet. ellie was on her phone the entire time; you assumed it was her roommate asking her where she's at. there was a bit of tension you could feel in the air; what type? you couldn't answer that.

coming to a stop at the entrance of her dormitory, she thanked you once again before you prepared to go home yourself.

"you could stay the night," she mumbled, fumbling with the bag in hand.

"what? no- no, i can't do that," you answered. you weren't against staying over, but... going home with someone you literally met an hour ago? absolutely not.

"jus' c'mon. it's late," she insisted, biting her lip anxiously. "plus, i owe you." you sight and give in, turning off the engine and ignition before grabbing your keys and phone and joining her on the walkway. she smiled politely and led you to her dorm.

the entire time you were walking with her, you assessed her appearance in clearer light. her hair was a shaggy cut, parted to the side and tucked behind her ears even though some stray strands still stood. her eyes were welcoming and friendly, giving you a warm feeling of hope. she had a tattoo on her right arm; a fern and a small butterfly. you debate asking her the meaning, but decide against it.

you snap out of your trance when you make it to her door. she unlocks the door and gently pushes it in, leaving room for you to step inside. "come in!"

you take 3 steps inside before you're pushed to the ground and pinned by strong, rough hands. "what the fuc- hey!" you start to shout. you squirm, hopelessly attempting to be freed from the tight grasp of what you thought was a male officer.

"you're under arrest," an unfamiliar, feminine voice states, "for possession and distribution of marijuana. you have the right to remain silent at this time." you see ellie's shoes standing in front of you, silently taunting you as you're handcuffed.

fuck, i should've never trusted her.

you're patted down and escorted to an unmarked car, parked around 30 feet away from your car. the unfamiliar figure is a tall, built woman with a long, blonde braid swinging down her back. her calloused hand grips you tightly as you're being walked. once you reach the vehicle, you're thrown into the back and the door slams in your face. you don't argue or protest; you were caught after one fuck up.

"didn't expect to catch her so easily," ellie brags, slightly looking back at you. you scowl at her, feeling betrayed by not only ellie, but dina, too. she had [hopefully] unknowingly helped them ruin your life. you were for sure not going to be able to finish college now. you wouldn't be able to get a job nice enough to stabilize your life. not to mention the possibility for 5 years of jail time and fees. it all made your head hurt. tears weld up in your eyes as you started to really let reality sink in.

"aw, she's crying," the blonde officer teased, looking at you through the rear-view mirror. you blinked back the tears before spitting out, "fuck you."

"the fuck you just say to me?"

"you heard me; fuck. you."

you could see her jaw clench, her bone well-defined under her skin. "oh, i know you wanna fuck me." a snicker was heard from the auburn girl.

the hell??

it was a weird response, but you decided to play into it. you're already being sent to jail; why not have fun?

"you wouldn't do anything about it if i wanted to anyway."

you saw the blonde's eyes go wide and her jaw drop with disbelief, looking over at her partner. ellie seemed calm, but intrigued by the situation. it was silent, but the way their eyes met was like they were talking through eye contact. ellie tilts her head towards you, signaling something to the other officer. as if she could read her mind, the blonde nods and pulls over to an abandoned alleyway.

"what's going on?" you question, attempting to hide the fear in your voice, but failing miserably. the blonde got out of the car and slammed the door shut as ellie simply answered, "you said we wouldn't do anything, hm?"

a shiver went down your spine as the door to your right opened, the blonde hopping in as you scooted all the way to your left.

"uh-uh, come here," she demanded as her hand wrapped around your neck and dragged you back to her. at this moment, your back rests against her toned thighs, handcuffed hands under your ass, legs laying on the seat.

"you wanna be disrespectful to me and my partner?" she jerks your head up, making you look at her. her sharp features take up your vision as she looks down at you with dark eyes. "you think you were just gonna get away with that? nuh-uh, not on my watch." you take your gaze off her face to read her badge, which reads "ABBY ANDERSON".

you're so focused on abby that you don'r realize ellie is on the other side of you, watching you and abby interact. you feel a sharp object on your jeans, scoring against the material. your head jerks down to see ellie running a pocketknife over your clothed cunt, fear and adrenaline running through you all at once. your breathing picks up speed as she cuts through your jeans, making a hole in the crotch. abby chuckles at your reaction, caressing your face as she coos, "not so tough now, huh?"

you're too caught up in looking at ellie's actions to respond. she puts the knife down, letting a feeling of relief wash over you. she mutters a "fuck it" before placing both hands on either side of the hole she made and ripping your jeans. you gasp, anxiety filling you once more. she smirks up at you, grabbing her knife and running it over your barely covered pussy. she loves the way you try to get away from her knife, silent cries as she gets closer to the meat of your thigh. she slightly cuts into you, small drops of blood racing down your inner thigh. you wince in pain, turning back to abby. "shh, it's okay," she reassures, kissing your sweaty forehead. "just a little cut. you're okay." you feel ellie's warm tongue running over the wound, collecting the red liquid. she kisses near your core, green eyes piercing into you before whispering, "so sweet" and smiling. abby gently kisses you, drawing your attention away from your cut to her and only her. she taps her pointer finger on your chin and whispers "open up", which you obey to. her lips purse together, gathering the liquid in her mouth before a ball of saliva drops into your mouth and onto your tongue. "swallow," she commands, and you close your mouth and swallow it, feeling it slip down your throat. she smiles, tapping your cheek lightly as she praises you. "good girl. she's doing so well, isn't she, el?"

ellie hums, hyper-focused on your pooling pussy. "so wet," she says in awe, "all this gets you off, doesn't it?"

you're oh so needy, cunt begging to be touched in any form. you nod ferociously, whining for any friction on your puffy clit. "you want it, yea? beg for it."

"p-please, ill do anything, just fuck me- ohmygod-" you babble, hips bucking up into ellie's face. she chuckles before looking up to abby, meeting her gaze. "she's been so good for us. give her a lil' reward."

with that, ellie cuts your underwear with one swift movement, completely exposing your pussy to her. she gasps at the sight, glistening skin in the low light. she whispers a spew of curses, spreading you apart as abby kisses you passionately. you moan into the kiss as ellie rubs your bud with her thumb. your noises go straight to her core, making her slightly whimper. she lays a flat tongue on your core, soaking up all of your juices on the pink muscle. abby wraps a firm hand around your throat, restricting airflow enough to make you completely feel ellie on you.

"fuck- oh, my god-" you cry, tears welling up in your eyes once more. the feeling is too much; abby kissing you, ellie eating you out- everything is overstimulating you. ellie smiles against your pussy, sucking on your clit while shoving two fingers in you. you whine and squirm away from her, but her other hand keeps you in place.

"i'm gonna- m'cumming- !!" you breathe, clenching around ellie's long fingers. abby praises you through it; "oh, so good for us, baby." "cum all over her fingers f'me, yes." small kisses are planted on your face once again, soothing you through your orgasm. ellie slowly takes her fingers out with a pop! before shoving one glistening finger into her mouth. she moans at the taste of you, maintaining eye contact with you. "shit, so sweet," she murmurs, looking over at abby. "wanna taste?"

"of course," abby says slyly, glancing over at you before sucking on ellie's middle finger, completely cleaning it off. she moans at the taste, finally letting ellie's middle finger go after a couple of seconds. she pulls you into another sloppy, heated kiss, making you taste yourself on her tongue.

"such a sweet thing," she coos, wiping your face. "too bad we gotta take you in now."

"can't let me off with a warning?"

"we would, but we'd be here for much longer and you'd be more bruised up." abby frowns in a mocking manner.

"so you're taking me in with no pants or underwear?"

"yup. don't underestimate us and, more importantly, don't sell drugs."

a/n: this was so fun to write omg ... part 2 will be coming me thinks

#tlouadditc #abby anderson smut #ellie williams smut #the last of us smut #tlou fic #abby anderson #ellie williams #ellabs #ellabs smut #ellabs x reader #lesbian

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mechaknight-98 · 2 months

Text

Edge of Tomorrow (NSFW) FT Dami of Dream catcher

Authors note: A little piece for the birthday girl.

You sat in your cubicle numb to the work that needed to be done around you. You had finished your daily tasks and the office server was down so now all you could do was wait. It was mind-numbing but at least it paid the bills. You yearned for your bed and to be cuddling with your stellar girlfriend Dami, but the time would not move faster so you continued to wait. About 35 minutes into your 8-hour shift you get a text. You see it’s from Dami. You wonder if you left anything at home so you do a quick spin of your cubicle and nope everything is there. Where it needs to be. This drives your curiosity about what the text could be about so you unlock your phone and are met with a harmless message

My pretty panda: Babe I miss you. :(

You smile and begin to type back

You: I’ll be back before you know it

You are surprised when you get a text back almost immediately. It’s a message with a selfie of Dami pouting. You save the image (because you treasure every picture she sends you) and read the attached message.

My pretty panda: but I do know it and I want you back now.

You chuckle and begin typing but you get a message

My pretty panda: let's play a game babe.

You delete your previous response and with trepidation, you begin typing a new one

You: what kind of game dear?

My pretty panda: a fun one, but I won't tell you till you agree.

You squint you love Dami but this could easily be a mistake, but your curiosity beats your boredom.

You: okay I'm down what's the game

My pretty panda: the game is simple you may touch yourself but don't cum.

Your eyes widened at her message and you scrambled in your response

You: Dear I'm at work

My pretty panda: it's too late now you already agreed now put your hand on your cock and send me the picture.

You groan but comply nonetheless. Your anxiety spikes as you send it. It lessens when you see those three grey dots but it gets worse. She sends a pic of her sensually cupping her abundant chest attached is the message is

My pretty panda: stroke your cock slowly. Send me the video

You take out your aching cock and begin to stroke slowly while gazing at the picture she sent. Your pace is tortuously glacial and mirrors many times where Dami would edge you all day to turn you into a “volcano of cum”.

You sneak to the bathroom and send her the video. Your girlfriend is quick to respond

My pretty panda: you have the stroke timing just the way I like it. Now babe go a little faster.

After that is a video of her massaging her perky tits

“I can't wait for my favorite little slut to get back home. I'm gonna fuck all of those little and big thoughts out of you. You'll be my cute little toy.” Dami cooed.“When I'm done with you tonight. You'll be m mindless fucktoy begging for me, now stroke faster and faster until you are about to cum then stop. Don't even think about cumming because I'll know. Wait forty minutes then start again, but slowly.” she added. You do as she says and get back to work. You reply to a few more emails answer a few more messages and talk to your boss before you are back in your cubicle. You get another three texts and videos from Dami.

My pretty panda: you've been a bad boy.

To emphasize her point she sends you an extremely lurid video. She's in your bed touching herself tortuously slowly. You watch as she indulgently has her fingers slosh and squelch in and out of her sopping pussy causing your already-hardened cock to drive you further into lusted madness. “Mistress isn't pleased by missing her updates,” she said with an authoritative lilt in her voice. Oh dear things have escalated and you were in for it now, but you knew if you sent Dami an update about work getting busy she would calm down and go back to loving girlfriend, but part of you liked Mistress Dami. Responsible you won out though.

You: I'm sorry mistress work picked up a bit for your toy and I needed to talk with my boss.

My pretty panda: thank you for the update. Your punishment has been averted.

You: thanks mistress, but can you please fuck me up tonight I actually will need it after today.

You knew the text was risky but you had so much on your plate that her earlier promise seemed so appealing. When you got the text back you were happy and worried

My pretty panda: oh so you want my attention? Well, you've been good and hard at work so that can be arranged. What does my good little toy want his mistress to do to him?

You ponder her question but know in your heart there's only one thing you truly desire tonight

You: turn my brain to mush from pleasure. Fuck me so hard that I forget my name. Empty my balls and my brain.

You finish typing and are surprised by the speed at which Dami replies

My pretty panda: :) that can be arranged.

You go back to work until your lunch break. Dami keeps you in relative silence. During your lunch break things take a radical shift. Dami video calls you in your car.

“Hi toy,” she says with a malicious grin.

“Hi mistress,” you say

“Take your cock out,” Dami demands you comply. “Now stroke slowly,” she adds. As you stroke yourself your mind begins to blank. “Good toy. Get lost in the pleasure.” you begin to moan as your mistress encourages you to continue. “That's it's good plaything keep stroking.” you continue to and when you get right to the edge your mistress demands you stop. You hate it because now you are desperate to cum but you know Dami is going to take exceptional care of you when you get home. After your lunch break the rest of the day moves even slower as you fight to stay awake.

When the clock finally says it's time to go you race to your car and flee from the office with the speed of the wind. You get home and see Dami smiling at you. She goes to hug and she lightly nibbles your ear before saying “You'll have to wait a little bit longer, before you get your relief but trust me I will take care of you.” you nod as you shiver.

“So how was your week babe?”

“Long, but I got my first script sold. 6 more and I can finally quit my office job,” you answer

Dami smiled, “You know you could quit now and I'll take care of you.”

You chuckle, “As much as I would love to be your stay-at-home sugar baby/trophy boyfriend. I want to stay grounded as to why I'm working so hard.” Dami’s eyes widened with pleasure and adoration. “I love that fire you have,” Dami said with appreciation.

“Thanks, babe. Im excited. How about you?” you ask “I'm sorry I missed your birthday.”

“Oh don't worry our schedules didn't line up so it's fine. I do have a call with Siyeon to discuss our next comeback.”

“Oh nice,” you say with a smile. The two of you share a chaste kiss or so you thought as you broke the kiss you felt a hand on your cock stroking slowly. Dami your girlfriend is gone and Mistress is back as she breaks the kiss. She stops stroking you and cups your balls. You gasp.

“Oh they're so full.” your mistress says. Maybe I can get a little taste. She takes off her sweats and mounts you. You moan

“Ah fuck, mistress. You're so tight.”

Dami throws her head back as she grinds on you, “You're filling me up so well.” she grinds for a few seconds before hopping off your rod. You groan and almost force her back down, but you know better mistress rewards patience and obedience and punishes insubordination harshly. So you comply. You get up shortly after and kiss her cheek. Dami smiled “Good plaything.” she said, and she went to her call. While you wait you make two sandwiches and eat them. As you finish the first and consider going for the second Dami springs back and steals it from you.

“Hey I was gonna eat that.” you cry out. Dami gives you a smug grin as she takes a bite.

“Mmm, why aren't you a professional chef? Your food is always so good” Dami compliments. Sitting down next to you. She leans on your shoulder and eats in silence afterward.

After she finishes you give her a tight hug and say “Happy birthday pretty panda.” Dami gives you a bright smile that morphs into something else. She turns your stool and takes her sweatpants off. She leans in front of the hard rod. She blows on it causing you to begin leaking.

“You wanna cum? Then beg for it.”

“Oh god please Mistress let me cum.”

“You can do better than that.” she chides.

Your brain is fried and you fully submit to her, “Oh please mistress relieve my aching balls. I need you to fuck me.” your mistress smiles before mounting you once again. Her tight pussy digs into your cock as she lowers herself into you. She bounces exactly three times before you erupt into her wet hole. She smiled as she continued to ride you. Your body begins to act on its matching thrusts in perfect synch. The last thing you remember before blacking out is hearing “good plaything.”

#kpop fanfic #male reader #fanfic #dreamcatcher fanfic #dreamcatcher smut #dreamcatcher #dreamcatcher dami #dami smut

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talesofesther · 1 year

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sweet calamity | ch 2

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: It was something people described as the sweetest pain, the feeling of when the soul that's destined to find yours is closer to you. Wednesday saw it as a curse, promised herself she would hate whoever was chosen for her; but it's easier said than done.

A/N: Slowly, the story is shaping itself, hopefully y'all will like it. Also thank you so much for 7.5K followers, love ya. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 1 here

It was rare the times where you woke up before your alarm, given that you weren't exactly a morning person. But you could barely sleep last night, excitement and apprehension twirling inside your stomach; so it was no surprise when you woke up with the birds this morning.

Today was your first official day at Nevermore, the place where, supposedly, you belong. You were lucky to already know a few of the students here, Eugene for one, who had given you a basic tour of the school yesterday.

To say that Nevermore was big would be an understatement, the ancient, castle-like structure had your anxiety spiking as soon as you walked through the gates. It was a given that you'd take your sweet time getting lost here.

Just as you are right now.

You were leaning back on one of the stone walls on the quad, cell phone in hand as you read one of your mother's latest texts; have a good first day darling, remember to make friends and don't isolate yourself, love you.

With a soft sigh, you typed back the generic response you always gave your mom, a sweet thanks and I love you that usually did the trick so she wouldn't press the matter.

Stashing your phone on your backpack, your gaze roamed over the hallways and doorways, searching for any clues on where the hell botany class was supposed to be. Technically, you could just ask someone. Your fellow outcast colleagues came and went, passing by you nonstop. Yet part of you didn't want to be the lost newbie.

You pushed yourself away from the wall, turning around on the spot, forcing your peers to dodge you as you took a slow step backward to get some new perspective.

And that's when it happened again, so suddenly this time that it got you stumbling on your own feet.

It reminded you of when you accidentally touched that hot frying pan when you were seven. The burning, sharp and angry against your skin; right on the pulse point of your wrist. The same one you felt for the very first time just yesterday, and maybe that was the main reason for your restlessness today.

Your mother always talked with you about soulmates, about how she was lucky to have found hers and that maybe you would be too. But at the end of the day, she was also a realist. She had never once allowed you to dream too big, hope too much. Because she knew it wasn't a reality for everyone.

You grew up in a world of maybes. Maybe you will find yours, maybe you won't; both are okay. And that was your truth, you were content with any outcome.

Until yesterday.

It's strange how a few seconds can change a lifetime.

You had never cared much about having a bond with someone, but then you felt it. It was almost palpable if you focused enough, that fragile red string tied around your finger, sending shockwaves to your heart and changing its rhythm.

Overnight, the thought of breaking this bond became almost unfathomable.

Your backpack bumped into someone when you lost your footing, you quickly turned around with an apology on your lips, but the person spoke first;

"Whoever it was, do it again and I will break each of your fingers." She spoke lowly, with a bite to her tone that gave you goosebumps.

You could tell she straightened her tie before turning around to face you, and once she did so — ever so slowly — any words you had tangled on your tongue faded completely.

She was all raven black hair and smooth pale skin, her lips had a dark shade of burgundy to them, shaping the lines to perfection; if you squinted, you could see freckles over her nose; her eyes were just as dark as her hair, lashes kissing the corner of her cheeks as she blinked once, twice and then kept her gaze on you with a faint frown to her eyebrows.

Something about her got your heartbeat going haywire. It was addictive.

Only when the silence was bordering awkward that you found your voice again; "shit, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you." It didn't help your nerves that you could feel the eyes of the passing students on you, as if they were watching a live decapitation ceremony — plus the ever-present ache on your skin.

Talk about an eventful first day.

All the girl did was angle her chin up, her eyes skimming up and down your body. "Stop walking backwards and maybe it won't happen again."

You pursed your lips, nodding once. Touche. "That's great advice, actually." You attempted a smile, but when you got no response back, you continued; "uh anyway, I have to go to botany class so, I see you around?"

If you looked closely, you could tell she acknowledged your words with a nod of her own. Figuring that's all you were getting, you turned around and took a step the opposite way.

A beat or two passed, almost as if she was considering if you were worth her time of day or not.

"I'm heading to botany as well," the raven-haired girl's voice called after you.

You looked at her over your shoulder.

"And that is not the way." She told you pointedly, raising a perfectly styled eyebrow at you.

Good one, idiot. Was all you could think to yourself.

You stood in the middle of the hallway with six feet between you and the girl whose name you were already itching to know, unsure if she wanted you to tag along or not.

"I'm not gonna wait on you forever," she said then, impatiently, and you scrambled to fall into step beside her.

You followed by her side as she left the quad, passing through Nevermore's gardens — which were breathtaking this time of year, the huge trees with a mix of faded green and yellow on their leaves, some of them already forming a blanket on the grass beneath them, old stone paths for you to walk on and a cold breeze in the air, countered by warm sunlight; you could spend hours out here — until you saw the big greenhouse in the distance.

"Thank you for this," you spared a timid glance at the girl beside you, "really, I would probably still be walking in circles if it wasn't for you."

There was no response other than a blank look in your general direction; you wanted to hear her voice though. "I'm Y/N, by the way." The question about her own name went unsaid.

Did you always have the need to speak so much? Wednesday wondered.

By no means, she was one to care enough in helping newcomers find their way around. They could be bothersome, asking too many questions and delaying her routine.

Yet there was something about you that got her feeling uneasy when she considered parting ways. For a second, she wondered if it was your soul that was doomed with hers, but you had already bumped into her and the cursed burning was still there; with no pattern to it, ever unpredictable, resembling the push and pull of waves on the oceanside yet never going away entirely.

And Wednesday wanted to be annoyed, she should be annoyed, shouldn't she? Because the sooner she finds out who her other half is, the sooner she can put an end to it.

She wasn't. She wasn't bothered that it wasn't you. Because the thought of hating you was slightly unappealing.

Her jaw was tight, sunlight framing her profile and reflecting on her pupils as she said; "Wednesday."

Were you going to be another Enid? Talking her ears off every given minute only to warp your way inside her cold heart eventually?

Wednesday let out an indignant scoff at the mere thought of it.

Her response lit you up like a Christmas tree; "Enid's roommate?"

You reached the greenhouse and Wednesday stopped in front of the glass doors. She turned to face you, her eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"Uh, we're friends," you were quick to elaborate, eyes focused on the way Wednesday's fringe flowed with the wind, "well, our parents are friends so we became friends too, she talked a lot about you on vacation. I almost feel like I already know you."

To that, Wednesday sharpened her gaze daringly, sure that Enid's version of her had the potential to be twisted into something sweetly inaccurate.

And was it bad that your panicked face was somewhat adorable?

"Not trying to imply that I do," you hurriedly said, eyes a tad too wide, "I'm just saying that I've heard a lot about you."

You amused her; the same way a cat finds it amusing to play with its prey. There was a ghost of a smile on Wednesday's lips; "yes, we do share a room."

The greenhouse was already partly filled with students when you walked in together, its glass walls almost entirely covered by plants, allowing only little bits of sunlight to come through as the smell of several different flowers engulfed your senses.

There were a few seats empty, but when you settled on a table at the back, Wednesday felt compelled to follow suit, making herself comfortable on the chair beside yours.

You kept surprisingly quiet during most of the class, taking notes in your notebook and occasionally tapping your pen against the paper but other than that, quiet. Wednesday felt strangely at ease in your company.

Wednesday had her hands neatly resting on the table, half listening to the new teacher's boring explanation about a poisonous plant and half counting the new species added to the greenhouse since she last came here.

She had counted twelve by the time her attention was captured, by you, no less.

There was a potted orchid resting by your side, it was a small thing, its soil a little too dry and its petals a little too pale — apparently the new teacher wasn't as attentive with her plants.

Wednesday watched the way you raised a hand to the poor flower, fingertips grazing the tip of its petals, and from each place you touched, a burst of life erupted. Slowly, the flower regained its bright colors, the leaves standing tall again in a deep shade of green at the same time that a loving smile came to your lips.

"Interesting," this time, Wednesday was the one to break the silence.

Her voice made you flinch, as if you had been in your own world for a moment. You took a deep breath before saying; "she was looking a little sad."

With her eyes still on the colorful orchid, Wednesday asked; "you make things come to life?"

"Uh, plants mostly," you shrugged, like even you didn't know the full extent of your abilities, "but yeah."

You looked up at Wednesday, not expecting to find her eyes already on you; dark as the night, if you looked closely, you could find galaxies in them to get lost in. You couldn't remember ever becoming this quickly infatuated with someone before, so much so, that it got you wondering — hoping — what if it's her?

The hairs on your arm stood up, a shiver going up and down your back. Could it be her?

"Enid always loved it," you forced out, at the same time that you forced the what-ifs out of your head — because you could almost hear your mother saying; hope is dangerous, don't ever let it overcrowd your senses. "She used to tell me that I'm lucky, that I could just conjure up any bouquet I'd want when I find my soulmate," you grinned at the memory, "and I always told her it was not that simple, that I can't make things out of thin air."

"Enid can be naive," Wednesday stated, tone a tad too tight, "she often times sees the world through rainbow lenses."

You chuckled, "do I sense some disdain?"

There's a beat before Wednesday says anything; a beat where she just looks at you, wondering when you got so comfortable with her, and why she let you.

"Quite the contrary," she tells you then, "Enid is one of the few people I tolerate here."

You smiled faintly, eyes downcast and focusing on Wednesday's hands instead of her eyes, "not for Enid."

Wednesday blinked slowly as understanding downed on her, she straightened in her seat; "most people fail to realize that having your soul linked to another is nothing short of a burden." Her words rolled off her tongue easily, that was her truth.

You nodded, not agreeing but acknowledging her view, "why would it be a burden?"

"Because no one asked for it, it's an inconvenience that's forced upon you. And people expect you to just accept it, love it, even," Wednesday told you, her eyebrows scrunched together in anger, "why would I ever want something like that?"

Your lips parted as you felt her hatred as if it was choking you, her black nails tapping against the table at the same rhythm your heart pumped blood. "What happens if you meet yours?"

"For their sake, I hope it never happens."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 3 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @gayestfeels26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @witchyhs-blog @tobylikesfire @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @ladey @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #wednesdayedit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega #wednesday x reader #my story

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undead-supernova · 2 months

Text

HIGH TOLERANCE

Part 4 / Part 5

Masterlist

warnings: mostly warning free outside of alcohol consumption, arguments, a hint of spice, and emergency cigarettes

pairings: bestfriend!modern!eddie x fem!reader

plot: sometimes you just gotta clear the smoke

wc: 5.2k

note: omg this is the last part! I'm very proud of myself for setting out to finish my first ever Eddie series (with my next one coming up quick - next week to be exact) and I thank anyone who has actually read this ! I'm very grateful that there are people who actually enjoy my work. It means a lot. I love doing this so so much. I can’t wait to share with you what’s next !!!!!!

Part 5: "Tolerance Break"

How the fuck did you end up agreeing to go to another karaoke night?

No, seriously. What the hell was wrong with you?

Okay, maybe you were being a little too mean to yourself. But didn’t you deserve it after everything that transpired between you and Eddie?

There was something that was beginning to float away from the two of you, something that felt familiar. It was exactly what you’d feared, the teetering in and out. No calls, no texts. Nothing there on your screen, left for dead on your bedroom floor most days as you blocked out any and all noise you could. Only listened to the kind of metal and screamo that sounded like fuzz, where their lyrics were practically incoherent from their gutteral screams. Played every goddamn Lego game on your Xbox and, yes, you specifically avoided clicking on Lego The Hobbit.

And to be fair, you hadn’t responded to any of the texts Eddie did send that first week. You had hope that he would show up like a knight in shining armor, taking your silence as a chance for him to be a hero—as if that was a justified response.

Because silence equaled confirmation that you were done. And confirmation that you were done meant that Eddie had to respect whatever boundaries you’d put up. Despite this, you stared at the door whenever you came home. Left a light on in the middle of the night just in case his knock woke you.

Just in case. Just in case.

But this wasn’t coping.

This was your own personal hell.

Because you also knew about the back and forth with Steve, the hopeful glances and longing stares. The missed chances and opportunities and the stupid, stupid mistakes that you thought about making. You also knew that your relationship with Eddie was going to change significantly. Maybe it already had.

You were leaning up against the side of your car, smoking an emergency cigarette from the pack stashed in your glove box. The anxiety was starting to eat you alive as you really came to terms with the fact that you were going to see Eddie for the first time in nearly a month. And, by the grace of God, you were going to be seeing him sober.

He would probably get there late knowing his finicky Tuesday schedule, sometimes having a longer shift than normal. Maybe he’d be all sweaty and grimy, frustrated and unable to talk to you. Or he could be bright and cheery and make conversation, blind to the magic of your lucky fishnets chosen for tonight.

How would he act? Would everything be okay? Did he even want to talk to you after what happened?

What even really happened?

Maybe he wouldn’t show up at all.

Would it even be worth it to stay?

The sound of Robin calling your name woke you from your self-indulgent nightmare fuel. You looked up, watching her wave at you with Steve in tow, sporting a white crop top and a deep green button down left open, bracelets galore. Steve was in his work outfit, sleeves rolled up, button down unbuttoned and untucked. Disheveled wife beater clinging for dear life in this weather. Like he was straight out of a quirky 2000s movie. Except he didn’t look exhausted, just slightly tired.

You met them halfway, giving Robin a side hug to keep her away from the smoke.

But as soon as you pulled back, she grabbed the cigarette and crushed it under her Vans. Even went so far as to stomp on it.

“Rob, seriously?” Steve asked.

“Gross,” Robin replied, shaking her head at you. “So, so gross.”

You just wanted five minutes of unhealthy coping mechanisms—but you knew Robin was right. Getting back into smoking cigarettes just because you were in a perpetual state of sorrow due to your own actions may not be the best course of action. Maybe that’s why you felt better on your two-week tolerance break from smoking weed. It just felt better to have a clear head, especially if it wasn’t doing well in the first place.

Steve gave you an apologetic look, also giving you a side hug. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” you said. “It’s probably for the best.”

“Should we go inside?” Robin asked, pointing at Go Ask Mary.

What you noticed as soon as you sat down was that neither of them even mentioned Eddie. Didn’t tell you whether he was still coming or whether he’d be late. The three of you were ten minutes early to the scheduled time, so it wouldn’t be too bad, right?

Steve started chatting you up immediately, (almost unbearably) asking you how you’d been doing and if you’d seen anything good on Netflix or Max lately. You really didn’t want to talk to him, didn’t want to even look at him. Because if you did, you’d only see betrayal in his eyes, a mere reflection of your guilt.

As if noticing your discomfort, Robin butt in. “Actually, I was watching this documentary on that new NASA thing and apparently there’s this black hole—"

You were starting to feel sick to your stomach and it only increased when Eddie walked into the bar twenty minutes late.

Despite telling yourself not to, you looked up at him.

He wasn’t grimy or dirty, like he’d showered before coming. Like he felt the need to clean up before, what, coming to a bar on a Tuesday evening? His hair was all volumized and bouncy, face glowing in the dim lighting. A Master of Reality Black Sabbath tee with his jeans and his leather jacket and his chains and his everything…

And despite Robin and Steve greeting him first, Eddie held your eye contact.

You hated how that made you feel. Like you were the only reason why he was here. Like you were the only reason he was being social and staying out late. Like you made it worth it.

But neither one of you said anything to each other.

The last few weeks had been…quite unbearable if Eddie had to describe it. He spent nearly every night at his phone, talking to Wayne as if he was his therapist. Wayne bit the bullet and comforted him, tried to give him advice about the whole thing. But Eddie was in a fugue state, unable to truly manage his heartache, even with his stashed emergency cigarettes in his glove box. So, when he got the invitation to another karaoke night and Robin promised you’d be there, he made sure to leave work early, take an extra-long shower, and come prepared to talk.

When you said you’d get the first round, Eddie did his best to stay seated.

Because neither of you had said anything to each other and Eddie wasn’t really sure what that meant. He wasn’t even sitting next to Steve tonight because he felt so embarrassed…but what about you?

Because you looked tense, a tight smile on your lips that definitely didn’t meet your eyes. Your grip on your vodka Redbull was starting to concern him, all strained knuckles and shaky glass. Steve and Robin blabbered on, you and Eddie contributing when it seemed necessary, never actually talking to each other.

By the time Robin said she’d get the second and you jumped at the chance to go for her, he’d given up on being polite.

He reached into his jean jacket pocket to find his black Bic lighter, his holy savior when it came to anxiety and fear. You were ten steps ahead of him, refusing to look back. Refusing to even look up, as if the idea of making eye contact with anyone in Go Ask Mary was borderline criminal.

Eddie glanced at Steve and Robin before standing up.

“Ooh, are you going to go talk to her?” Robin asked, taking a final sip of her first Coke and Bacardi to try to hide her smile. Steve mirrored her, taking a long gulp of his beer as he raised an eyebrow at the man.

The two were the definition of the phrase in cahoots.

Eddie only rolled his eyes in response, turning on his heels to follow your lead.

You were in nearly an identical outfit to the one he last saw you in, with your black Joan Jett t-shirt replaced with a black Scene Queen crop top. A leather jacket. And there with it, a pleated black miniskirt that swayed with you as you walked, calling attention to your fishnets and maroon Converse. Red lipstick to match. Fucking hell—

He was utterly weak for you.

And how did he open up a line of dialogue?

“This is awkward, isn’t it?”

You turned to him before looking down, watching the black lighter move between his fingers—always noticing his anxious habits but never truly calling him out.

“I guess,” you replied, seemingly nonchalant.

But he was getting closer and…was that cigarette smoke on your jacket? Had you been smoking? Eddie thought about asking, but there you were beating him to the punch.

“Emergency cigarette, huh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Seems like you’ve been stressed about something.”

“It’s all over you, too,” he countered. “I wonder if there’d be a common denominator if we compared notes.”

He didn’t miss the way you scowled before trying to cover up your frustration. “It’s just been tough at work.”

“Oh, so is that why you haven’t texted me in three weeks?”

“Eddie—”

“Hey, it’s just a question,” he said lightly, throwing his hands up.

Before you could say anything, the bartender was sliding you the drinks.

“You left your jacket at my place,” you said as you handed Robin’s card to the guy. “It’s in my car if you want to grab it before you leave. Or earlier if you’d like.”

But Eddie wasn’t one to back down, was he?

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“And I don’t intend to,” you stated, scribbling on the receipt before turning to walk away. Eddie noticed you left his and Steve’s drinks behind. With a sigh, Eddie grabbed them and followed you back to the table.

After everyone was a bit tipsy, Robin found her way to the karaoke stage, followed by Steve. You noticed that Eddie was opting out, merely sitting there in silence. He nursed his whisky, nodding along to whatever conversation was happening, even if he was directly spoken to. It was already bad enough that he was sitting closer to you than he did Steve.

Was he trying to make you feel better? Was his silence to keep everyone from feeling weird? Did he tell Steve about what happened, and they were trying to play it cool? Lower the awkwardness?

Your anxiety was starting to crawl along your skin resulting in you having to take your jacket off. The alcohol doing absolutely nothing to diffuse it. Even if you drank faster. Not that you would ever feel the need to expedite the process of any form of intoxication or inebriation. Not at all. Nope. Never.

But after another dreadful fifteen minutes, you needed out of there.

Fast.

“I’m going to sing a song,” you announced, interrupting Steve.

Before anybody could respond or react, you shot out of your chair and walked over to the guy by the stage. He sat on a stool behind a podium, his laptop hooked up to a speaker.

“Pick your poison of the night,” he said with a grin. “The Eighties are your oyster.”

“Gladly.”

Eddie watched you scroll through the guy’s laptop, bouncing from side-to-side as you debated your choices. Nodding your head along to whatever he was saying.

And he just couldn’t help himself from being a pest, from ignoring Robin and Steve, from walking over and ending up behind you.

“What’s the song choice?”

You flinched, turning to look at him with quite a nasty look on your face.

“Why do you care?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you being so goddamn mean?”

Like before, you gave no answer.

Instead, you grabbed the microphone and stepped up on the poor excuse for a stage. As you lifted your foot, your skirt started riding up. Eddie didn’t mean to look up your skirt in a moment like this, scout’s honor, but he caught a snippet of…your…garter belt?

Were those your…lucky fishnets? No, he had to be mistaken. You already had a few pairs, there was no way you’d worn the lucky ones when you were being this mean.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you asked him, your voice sounding much, much harsher than it usually did.

“I’m not looking at you like—”

The track started and you shook your head, turning from him to put on a smile and face everyone else but him.

Eddie didn’t stay, heaving a sigh before walking off to sit back down next to Steve and Robin.

Clearing your throat, you let yourself groove through the beginning instrumentals, shaking off Eddie’s words and the fact that he didn’t stay to watch. Didn’t stay to show any support or be your biggest fan like always. But this wasn’t about him.

“There's a boy I know, he's the one I dream of.

Looks into my eyes, takes me to the clouds above..."

You were met with a few cheers at the choice of song. Trying to play along, you held onto the cord of the mic, twisting it around your fingers, while moving your hips from side to side. Your pleated skirt moved with you, twisting and turning and twirling wherever you moved.

For the first time tonight, you smiled.

“How will I know if he really loves me?

I say a prayer with every heartbeat.

I fall in love whenever we meet.

I'm asking you what you know about these things."

But something began to click in your head.

Because this was absolutely about Eddie. This was exactly how you’d been feeling for the last three years. Every little, tiny thing that had run through your mind whenever you were together. Whenever you were laughing or crying or going on dates that ultimately turned into duds. When you went to the aquarium or the movies or Jailbait Hemp…

When you were sitting with him for the first time in this exact bar, wondering if he was going to be something more in your life, unable to predict where you’d inevitably be.

“Falling in love is so bittersweet.

This love is strong, why do I feel weak?”

You closed your eyes as you kept going, determined to get through this without having a meltdown. If you just powered through it, then everything would sort itself out and you’d sit back down and Robin would tell you that the song was a good choice and Steve would say some dumb shit. And Eddie—

Eddie would say nothing at all.

And at the end of the night, you’d tell Robin and Steve goodbye. You’d turn to walk away to your car and hope that Eddie would run up to you and demand to talk. But you’d inevitably be met with disappointment as you reached your car. He wouldn’t grab his jacket. He wouldn’t say a word. And the two of you would fade without a sound. Without even a goodbye. And you’d know then for certain that he never truly wanted to be with you. He’d made his choice.

“If he loves me…if he loves me not.”

When you opened your eyes, you were shocked to see Eddie near the edge of the stage, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.

“If he loves me…if he loves me not.”

He was looking at you the way you hated, the way you secretly loved. Like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“If he loves me...if he loves me not.”

He was quiet, not even swaying, letting you sing no matter how terrible it sounded. Just making eye contact with you, watching you. You tried looking away, but nothing else could hold your attention long enough before you were back, trying to make sense as to why he was still there.

And there was something bubbling in your chest, something starting to unfurl.

“How will I know if he really loves me?”

Something was starting to constrict your vocal cords and you had no way of letting it go.

“I say a prayer with every heartbeat.”

Especially when Eddie was still standing there, and you were realizing that whatever you two had was over.

“I fall in love whenever we meet.”

This chapter of your life was coming to a close.

“I'm asking you what you know about these things.”

Nothing was going to fix this.

“How will I know if he’s thinking of me?”

There was nothing you could do.

“I try to phone but I’m too shy. Can’t speak.”

Nothing.

“Falling in love is so bittersweet…”

You started to choke up, sniffling as you looked at Eddie, with his pretty brown eyes and his intense fucking stare and his teeth digging into his bottom lip. Was this the last time you’d ever see each other? Was this truly the end? Was this the last look you’d get of him, forever lodged in your memory as the moment you lost the greatest thing to ever happen to you to someone else?

“I feel weak—"

Without hesitation, you dropped the mic, jumping down and running past Eddie. Robin and Steve tried to call your name, but you couldn’t do it anymore. You pushed open the front door into the tangerine glow of the sunset and felt yourself fall apart.

“What are you doing, Eddie?” Robin asked, shaking her head at him as he sluggishly made his way back to the table. “I mean, seriously.”

“This has gotten totally out of hand,” Steve said with a sigh, swirling a straw in his beer bottle.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Robin said sarcastically. “How do you think she feels?”

Steve nodded. “You literally didn’t want to keep going on dates because you’re into her.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed. “You said you were okay with it.”

“I am,” Steve said, throwing up his hands. “I get it. You feel how you feel. No shame in that. But I just think it’s kinda annoying when you’re not even doing anything about it. I mean, seriously, dude. It’s been, what, two weeks?”

“Three and a half,” Eddie corrected.

Steve gestured to him. “My point exactly.”

Eddie felt like an idiot. The way he watched you start to crack onstage, as if you were bending. Breaking. Falling apart.

“Are you really gonna just let her leave?”

Eddie turned at the unfamiliar voice. It was the drag queen that seemed to always be there, Luverne Bell, just out of drag this time. He stood there with his hands on his hips, still wearing a killer manicure.

“What do you mean?”

He sighed. “Boy, I watched that poor girl thirsting over you a month ago, jealous as hell of that one with the hair,” she said, pointing at Steve before looking back at Eddie. “She sang to you tonight—fuckin’ Whitney Houston, the queen of all queens—and you’re questioning if you should be a big boy and go tell her you love her? Are you that stupid?”

“No, I…” Eddie gulped. “I guess I didn’t think about it like that.”

“Then go, idiot,” Robin said from the table. “You’re literally wasting time.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Don’t fuck it up.”

They were right. Eddie couldn’t back down. You needed him just as much as he needed you.

It felt odd how simple it was.

Even when he was unsure of your feelings. Even when you had those awkward conversations. Even when he’d be on a date with Steve or talking Robin’s ear off about his frustrations—not to mention Jeff, Gareth, and Grant. (They got much more than they needed to.) Hell, even after you fought and stopped talking for nearly a month. No matter how hard this felt, loving you was simple.

And he planned to keep loving you no matter what.

Eddie nodded before walking towards the door.

He could hear Luverne Bell sigh behind him, saying, “I’m getting that fuckin’ invite to the wedding, so help me God.”

It was all completely hopeless.

This was probably the lowest you’d been in a long time, dramatically running off a stage at your favorite bar in front of the guy who you’d been in love with for the past three years. And now you were too weak to get in your car and drive far away from here, far away from Eddie.

You tried being an asshole to him, tried to get him to push you away and leave you alone. It would be better that way, giving him a reason to never come near you again. At least then you wouldn’t be tempted to tell him that the sight of him with Steve made you want to throw up. Hell, you already did.

Tears streamed down your face as you lightly hit your head back on the brick wall of the building. You needed to distract yourself. Calm yourself down.

With the las bit of strength you had, you shuffled over to your car to grab another emergency cigarette. You caught the sight of Eddie’s jacket in the passenger seat and nearly screamed, wanting to run over the damn thing out of spite.

Maybe act on impulse and burn the damn thing.

As if you’d ever actually do it.

You managed to successfully light your cigarette when you heard Eddie call your name. Turning, you could see him looking around to find you before he finally did. He called your name again.

“Don’t leave!” he said loudly. “Come back.”

With messy makeup and even messier hair, you looked him directly in the eye as you walked back over. If this was how everything was to end, you were ready. No matter how fucked up you looked. No matter how fucked up you felt.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“What’s there to say?” you asked, taking a strong drag.

“You can’t keep playing this game with me,” he said, shaking his head. “You really can’t.”

“Go back to Steve,” you choked out, fingers shaking as you took another drag. “I bet he’s better company than I am.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to go fucking be with Steve right now, alright?”

“Why not?” you asked loudly. “He’s all cool and hot and sexy and a big, hot, sexy hot shot. I’m sure he’s better than me in every way possible.”

This earned you another eye roll. “Oh my god.” He covered his face with his hands for a moment, dragging them down to his chin before giving an exasperated sigh. “I don’t see why you care when you’re the one who didn’t answer any of my texts, nor did you answer me when I asked you why like an hour and a half ago.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you lied.

“That’s just a shitty copout at this point.”

“You’re annoying,” you lied again.

“And you’re acting like a dick!” he exclaimed. “An outrageously humongous cockhead!”

You scowled at him. “Oh, I’m the cockhead? Really?”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Real mature. Nice.” You waved him away, taking another drag. “Go back to your boyfriend already.”

“Stop bringing up Steve, oh my god!” he nearly shouted.

A scoff left your mouth. “You’re the one dating him.”

“Yeah, well, I broke shit off with Steve three and a half weeks ago.”

You paused, pulling the cigarette from your lips. “You did?”

Eddie nodded. “Mhm.”

“Why?”

“Oh, you know,” he said with a breathy sigh, fiddling with his lighter. “Just in love with my best friend over here, no big deal.”

“You’re…” You lost grip of your cigarette as everything began to swirl around you.

He was…actually in love with you?

“You’re in love with me?”

His eyes widened. “You didn’t know?”

“I…wasn’t sure.”

“Right, even when I almost kissed you, or…?”

“Well…I just thought when you…you said you thought Steve made you happy…” you trailed, losing steam. You couldn’t continue, only shrugging in response before crossing your arms over your chest.

He tilted his head, trying to catch your eyes. “And now here’s the part where you say you’re in love with me, too, right?” You looked up, watching his lips turn up in a small smile. “‘Cause there’s no way I’m interpreting this wrong anymore.”

You looked at him questioningly, nearly playful in nature now, deciding to push him just a little bit further. “Oh, yeah? What makes you so sure?”

“Because tonight I realized that you have been nothing but jealous this entire time and making fun of Steve who, correct me if I’m wrong, you’ve never had a problem with before.” He drew closer, putting his hands over your crossed arms. “And there’s nothing I want to do more right now than kiss you and make all of this stupid middle school drama go away.”

“Are you not worried we’ll lose everything if it doesn’t work out?”

Eddie smirked. “What if I told you that I don’t care about that and all I want is to take you home and cuddle on the couch and watch Lord of the Rings?”

“The extended edition?”

“Literally what else would I be referring to?”

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose at you, eyes searching yours. “Mm, and why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I’m absolutely, positively in love with you,” you admitted. “That’s why I’ve been looking at you like that for almost four years.”

He grinned. “God dammit, I knew that was what you always wanted to say.”

“And yet you never said anything about it,” you noted.

“Well, I—” Eddie paused before his eyes lit up. “Holy shit. Holy shit! You were gonna tell me that day at the aquarium, weren’t you?” Your mouth opened but you were way too embarrassed to admit to it. He studied your expression before a smirk fell on his lips. “You were! I knew it. I fucking knew—"

So, you kissed him.

Uncrossed your arms and grabbed his face, keeping him from walking away. From running away. From doing anything else than being right here, right now. In your grasp, in your kiss.

And Eddie wasted no time, roughly grabbing your waist and drawing you in, breathing you in. You were trying to process what was happening, but it was all going by so fast. Because his hands were squeezing your hips, fingers flexing as if he was consciously trying not to hurt you.

Instantly, you couldn’t fathom ever feeling this euphoric. This carnal hunger for something so soft and tender. For finally being able to get to this moment, this aching desire having loomed over you for so long.

Despite this disbelief, you needed to push back, not ready to give away your dominance. Did he even know you?

You reached a hand down and grabbed his ass, pulling him against you, earning a gasp from him. When you squeezed harder, he jumped and let out a small yelp.

Laughter spilled from your lips as you watched his cheeks turn red, close to matching your lipstick. And you noticed it hadn’t really transferred to his mouth, saving him from more embarrassment. (You thanked whatever God was out there that you’d worn your sturdy lipstick.)

Even so, your lips were still on his, unable to disconnect. Unable to let them go anywhere.

“You think that’s funny?” he asked, playfully trying to stare you down.

You wrinkled your nose, grinning. “Yeah, I do, actually.”

Eddie wrinkled his back at you. “Yeah?” He mimicked your voice, raising the pitch.

“Oh, yeah.”

Without warning, Eddie pushed you against the brick wall, slotting his thigh in between your legs. You swallowed a whimper, trying to stay quiet. Trying to sustain your dominance. But he had other plans, fingers slowly moving down your side until he grabbed your thigh and lifted it—roughly at first, but then carefully placing it snug around his hip. Delicately, as if the moment was meant to be cherished, as if you were meant to be handled with care. He dragged his fingers down your fishnets before curling his hand around your knee to quickly yank you up juuust a little further.

Eddie was moving his nose against the side of yours, shaking his head. “And what the fuck are you doing wearing these?”

“You don’t like them?” you whispered, pushing him further.

“Are you serious? I’m in love with them,” he admitted. “And you. Very much you.”

“Told you they were lucky,” you responded with a playful shrug.

“God, you’re frustrating,” he whispered before his lips met yours again. But he quickly moved, making his way down to your jaw. You wondered if he knew that you were getting dangerously close to losing your grip on whatever abstinence looked like.

And then he reached the back of your ear and oh—

You let out an involuntary moan, having to lean away from the contact to catch your bearings. If you didn’t, you genuinely thought you were going to faint.

“Maybe we could do some other things while we watch Lord of the Rings.”

Eddie tipped his head back as he let out a hearty laugh. “And what might that be? Watch the first, second, andthird?”

“It’s a—” Eddie quickly dipped back down, nipping at your neck. “Ah, fuck. It’s a surprise,” you finished, nearly moaning again. “Fuck, not for much longer if you keep doing that.”

“You want me to wait until we’re two and a half hours deep into Mordor?” he asked. “Do you know me at all? That shit is important.”

You shrugged. ��Well, you could be two and a half hours deep into this pussy—”

“That was unnecessary,” he joked, shaking his head.

Your smile widened. “It was kinda funny.”

“Just a little,” he admitted before moving his lips back to your jaw.

“I could dress up as Sam?” you teased, feeling his teeth carefully grazing your earlobe. Another gasp escaped your lips. “Could call you Mister Frodo if you’d like.”

The vibrations of his laughter made tingles run down your neck.

“An intriguing thought,” he joked. “May I propose a trip to my van?”

Now you fully pulled away from his face, wondering how serious he was.

“I’m not doing it in a parking lot.”

He feigned offense. “Why not? My van’s right there?”

“Eddie, I’m not having sex in your van.”

He tsked at you, leaving pecks on each of your cheeks. “You’re no fun.”

“How about a compromise,” you proposed, pressing a finger against his mouth. “How about you fuck me beforewe watch Lord of the Rings?”

“Does a joint happen to sneak its way in at some point?” he asked against your finger. You giggled as he removed it but continued to hold on. Smoothed his calloused fingertips over your knuckles.

“One before, one after,” you said matter-of-factly.

He smirked. “I think I can manage that.”

You kissed him again.

And it really wasn’t so stupid after all.

Taglist: @mrsjellymunson @fishwithtitz @aysheashea

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS EVER READ THIS! Your support has meant everything to me ! <3

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #best friend!eddie #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #best friend!Eddie x reader #thank you again. I’m feeling so ahhhhh right now! finally finished my first eddie series #can’t wait for the next one #just feeling glad that I can escape and disappear from reality for a little bit

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snickerdoodlles · 14 days

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headcanons behind fic: brother texting habits referenced in long & short

Chay holds up his phone sheepishly. “Also, your brother texted me. We’re invited to dinner.” Kim’s smile drops. He doesn’t need to ask which brother. “Did he type that out, or just send an emoji with a question mark?”

ngl, had i realized how much i'd expand this series, this is actually a scene i'd cut or at least heavily rework. it's the weakest scene of the story and its execution has only felt more clunky as time passes. hindsight! that said, i don't regret the scene either because the headcanons behind the premise of that scene are very near and dear to my heart, namely the texting rituals of Khun, Kinn, and Kim :D

the boys have a system to their texting. it's not anything as concrete as a code, that'd be far too dangerous and anxiety inducing. their system, naturally, revolves primarily around giving hints to Korn's mood without outright saying anything:

firstly, all brother invites to things go through Khun, because Khun's invites will only ever be invites and Kim's 'no's will only ever be 'no's.

anytime Korn demands Khun or Kinn (usually Kinn) drag Kim to a family thing for him go through Kinn, and 'Kinn's requests are always phrased as a question Kim can refuse. Kim once tells Kinn he'll show up if Kinn orders him to (because he doesn't actually want to get Kinn into trouble if Korn's being esp insistent), and Kinn smiles and tells him "thank you" and never ever once orders Kim join them, because Kim asked not to be involved in the family business and Kinn will take on any burden to keep Kim free of it.

Kinn passes along how insistent Korn's being through the overall tone and vibe of his messages, usually indicated by how much of it he types out. requests Kim join official functions sound like a formal invitation printed on a card, requests Kim indulge Korn playing family are much closer to Kinn's standard texting style;

because, and this is a silly headcanon i will have forever, Kinn fucking loves emojis. you know his whole "this could've been an email" vibe when he shoots that guy in the head ep1? same vibes except much cuter. Kinn thinks emojis are adorable and efficiency perfected. why send "thank you" when the 👍 emoji is right there? a picture's worth a thousand words and 🫂 is a thousand warm ones. he could send "wanna check out that new coffee shop by the studio next tuesday for brunch? their menu is 60% sprinkles so i'm sure you'll love it" but ☕🧋🎙️❔👑2️⃣🗓️🕦🍬👉💕💕‼️ is so much quicker. the only reason why Kinn's texts aren't 87% cute stickers is because he hasn't yet realized they come preprogrammed in his phone.

("do you think he speaks in hieroglyphics because he's secretly ancient?" Kim asks one day.

"how old does it make you to understand him then?" Khun snarks back.)

((Kim leaves Khun on read for a week.))

some bonus thoughts: Khun's a spam texter of the highest order. every one text is sent across 3.5 texts minimum. Kinn only ever sends one (1) text. if Kinn's replying to multiple messages in one go, he separates his responses in indv bullet points (if he's feeling petty towards Khun, he responds to every one of Khun's messages individually).

(Kinn's multiple messages to Chay in long & short are absolutely because he's watching Kim's live. for all Kim's snooping, he has somehow missed that Kinn has every alert and then some set for Wik news and while he can't make every live, he plans his breaks around them and even moved a meeting once.)

also, while Kinn pretends he's threatening/blackmailing with these baby Kim pics, this is 100% him taking advantage of the situation to gush about cute baby brother with a fellow Kim AppreciatorTM. Kinn has the cutest little brother, and he's gotta keep up with news of baby brother's current shenanigans somehow 😤👏 Khun is guilty of similar crimes ofc.

(Kim suffers older brothers so much.)

#kinnporsche #fic headcanons #fic: gone fishing #i love brothers <3333

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

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Unexpected 42

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The baby sleeps in her bassinet. Peaceful. You don’t know the last time you ever felt that. The last time you slept soundly. When you manage to drift off, it’s painful and heavy, and you wake up feeling worse as you face the reality you can’t escape.

Dottie’s flighty tones waft up from the first floor. You can’t make out her words, you don’t care enough to try, but you know by Andy’s deep responses and the subsequent click of the door that she’s sending him off. Good. You can’t face him, not after you ran out covered in bile.

You prop up several pillows behind you and recline against them. You just lay there, staring at the joint of ceiling and wall. You don’t watch anything, you don’t use your phone to scroll, you can’t even listen to music. They’re all just a reminder of what you don’t have and what you’re stuck in. Other people have lives and meaning, you are just an udder to be milked.

Dottie raps on the door but as usual, doesn’t await your permittance. She inches open the door and lets out a long sigh. She disapproves. Of you. She should direct that at her son. You don’t say as much. You tried to before and she was too cowardly to hear you. Must be where he gets it from.

“Andy packed up your leftovers,” she informs you, “such a sweetheart that one.”

“You can have them,” you roll onto your side and cross your arms, “I said, I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat, hon–”

“For her or for me? I’m not stupid. The only reason you care is because the baby needs to suck on me like a goddamn juice box. You don’t care how I feel.”

“I know exactly how you feel, dearie, I carried a child too, I fed them, I spent those months with just me and them–”

“Whatever. I don’t fucking want to hear what you went through. It’s not the same.”

“You can’t go on like this. You won’t survive.”

“What do you care?” You snarl. “Because I don’t. I don’t care. Put her on formula and let me die.”

Silence. You hear her near the bassinet and feel her shadow looming near the bed. You almost regret your words. Almost. It would solve a lot of issues if you weren’t here.

You wouldn’t feel like this. That baby wouldn’t have to feel the flagrant resent radiating off of you at every moment. Dottie wouldn’t have to pretend. And Lloyd, whenever he returns, wouldn’t have to throw you out. You’d do him a favour, quite generously, and free him yourself.

“I’ll take Luna for the night. You get some sleep,” the wheel of bassinet unlocks and rolls softly over the hardwood, “I’ll bring up the pump. I sterilised it earlier. You can use that if you feel… uncomfortable.”

“Fine,” you hiss, “get away from me.”

🍑

You wouldn’t know it if you didn’t see the date stamped at the bottom corner of the television screen. You sit, blankly, watching the scroll of text across the bottom, doing the math in your head. Another week. The living room is quiet but for the tempoed cadence of the newscaster.

You’re consumed in the indifference of your existence. You barely say a word. You barely feel. You take the baby when she fusses or when she’s handed to her, you relieve the pressure in your chest, and give her back. You sit around, sometimes you lay flat on your back, and other times you find yourself standing in doorways, feeling lost.

That day feels different. Dottie, like a hummingbird, is always moving, but she is in a storm of anxiety, edging on anticipation. She’s brought you a measured cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal with milk. You’re not very hungry but you drink the coffee first, eating the oatmeal only at her prompt.

She takes the empty dishes after she hands you the baby again. You let her nurse and Dottie comes back to burp her and put her down. The baby, for all your dissonance, is quiet and calm.

You end up on your side, head on a throw pillow, as the news comes to an end and a home show comes on, giving tips on how to reuse old plant potters and repairs bookshelves. You close your eyes as deja vu sweeps over you. Those days you worked nights but found yourself sleepless in the AM, you would put on some channel or another, let the dullness ease you to sleep.

You drift into the memories and feel the tinge beneath your eyelids. When you open your eyes, you expect to be back in the duplex, you expect Colin to walk in and complain about his job, as you get up to make your coffee and make him dinner. You expect to be who you were before all this.

But you’re not.

“Why don’t you have a shower, sweet?” Dottie appears.

You squint as the sunlight streams yellow between the curtains. It’s around noon, you can tell by the height and hue of the day. You nod and let her help you up. The idea doesn’t sound good until she has you under the faucet, the warmth easing your muscles and washing away the days of sweat and negligence.

You get out and your chest aches. You cup your full tits and see your silhouette in the steamy mirror. You reach forward to wipe away the glaze. You see your body, the scar, the stretch marks, the loose skin, the weight still clinging. You want to puke at the sight of yourself.

You cover yourself with a towel and come out. You go to the guest room where you’ve built your nest. Dottie comes to the doorway as you dry yourself off shamelessly. You can’t change it. You can’t undo it.

“Is she hungry?” You ask.

“She’s still asleep.”

“Mm.”

“You hurtin’?” She asks.

You nod. “I’ll pump.”

“Good,” she enters the room and goes to the closet. She pulls out a purplish pink dress with short sleeves and a bit of ruffle around the elastic cuffs and neckline. Not much to it, light and figureless.

You watch clueless as she lays it out with a pair of panties and a clean nursing bra. You shake your head as you cross your arms around the towel, holding it against your chest as it drapes over your stomach.

“You’ll want to wear something nice for lunch,” she says.

“Lunch?” You scowl.

“Mhmm, a day out of the house, away from the baby, it’ll be nice, won’t it?” She drawls as she turns to you, “Andy will be here soon.”

“Andy?”

“Yep, I told you, hon. Maybe you didn’t hear me, you’ve been a touch distracted,” she touches your shoulder gently, “a mom like you, how can’t you be? Doing so much, giving so much, you deserve a bit of time to get a little, huh?”

You shake your head and give her a frantic look, then glance at the dress.

“Can I wear something else?” You ask, “to hold all this in?”

She seems to sigh in relief. You’re certain she expected an argument but you don’t have that energy. You just do what you’re told, what you have to do. If she wants you out of the house, you’ll gladly leave this prison.

“If you like,” she puts her hand on her hip, “but will you try this on? You don’t like it and we’ll go with your choice. It’s hot out, dear, you don’t want to over do it.”

You sniff and shrug, “fine. Whatever.”

And that’s just how it is. You don’t feel much one way or the other. Dress or no dress. It doesn’t matter to you, but the more you let the idea sink in, the more eager you are to get away. Even if Andy will be there.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble #unexpected #andy barber #series #the gray man #defending jacob

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undiscovered-horizon · 2 years

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"Peace out" - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

[TW: explicit language, physical violence]

[1k followers celebration!]

SUMMARY: Bradley's patience is rigorously tested when your ex-boyfriend shows up unannounced. Maverick strategically admires the ocean.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.1k

Because of his early mornings, Bradley had a habit of sleeping in on weekends. No matter how lovely it was to cuddle him and cruise along the faint line separating dreams and reality, you felt you were wasting your free time, so weekends were those rare occasions when you were awake first. On an off chance, he didn't complain about that but freshly made breakfast had enough charm to settle any discontent. Although, the way you looked in his t-shirt was good enough too.

Bradley was still in bed, refusing to leave the comfort of the cool, white bedsheets when your phone vibrated on the nightstand:

"Someone's texting you!" he called out to you from the bedroom. It was before noon on a Saturday morning and so you couldn't quite figure out who could want anything from you at that hour.

"Who is it?" you mumbled while brushing your teeth.

"Liam," he read off the screen. Bradley felt as if that name should be telling him something like he knew you had mentioned that person before but at the moment, nothing was coming to him.

"What?!" you yelled out. The surprise left you with your mouth slightly open, making you aware of it only when you felt the toothpaste running down your chin.

"Don't get toothpaste on my shirt!" Bradley called after you while you ran back into the bathroom to spit the foam out and wipe your face. "Who's Liam?"

"Don’t even get me started about Liam fucking Jones." You emerged from the bathroom, your hand tightly gripping the poor toothbrush as if it was responsible for some heinous crimes. "He was an amazing man up until we started dating like he just decided that he can stop giving a shit after getting a girl. In the one year we dated, he worked for a whole one shift at Dunkin’ Donuts. One goddamn shift! He stole money from me and refused to eat anything remotely fresh. The longest distance he’d walk was to the convenience store. And then I was the bad guy for ever mentioning anything! He used to say that if I really loved him it shouldn't matter if he's a bum. I still can’t believe I wasted two years of my life on this guy."

In a way, Bradley couldn't wrap his head around the idea that you got together with someone who didn't "deliver". He remembered when he had just met you and your assertiveness, although sparked some yearning and excitement inside him, was also a reason for his quiet anxiety - he could tell from the very first conversation that you don't take shit and rather do not tend to look back. Bradley knew that if he fucks up, he's done for good so Liam's curious "success" seemed more than odd to him. Perhaps, it was exactly that guy, Jones, who brought out of you that alluring and entirely tempting edge of confidence and self-respect.

"What does he want?" you asked in an uncharacteristically serious voice. Bradley seemed amused at your sudden change of mood. It was as if you suddenly found yourself on the battlefield and not in your own bathroom, brushing your teeth.

"Looking past all the sleazy and lame flirting, he's asking if you're still in San Diego and want to meet."

"Text him back 'no' and do not send a picture of yourself, Bradley."

Although he knew you weren't joking, Bradley laughed to himself remembering that one time someone tried to chat you up in your direct messages and you asked him to text that person back because you were busy finishing some last-minute work. The picture he sent simply to rub the rejection in, getting a rise out of the fact that none other than him was the blessed man taking home the red-hot girl - it was, undoubtedly, a pride thing.

Bradley, being himself, waited for the moment you disappeared back into the bathroom to take a picture of himself lying shirtless in the white bedsheets. Your blurry silhouette was visible in the corner of the photograph. Snickering to himself, he hit "send" and tossed the phone right back at the nightstand.

"Can I get my t-shirt back?" he asked when you were walking out of the bathroom.

"You'll have to take it yourself, dear."

"Yes, ma'am." He didn't need anything more to finally get out of bed.

The thoughts of Liam Jones quickly left your mind as you were a little too preoccupied with how engaging daily life with Bradley was. It seemed as if that man simply hated sitting down for a moment, always ready for an adventure or at least some thrill.

It felt as if you had barely made it out of bed when the sun began to set. One of the things you absolutely loved about this part of the world was the fact that evenings didn't come with cold winds, it was quite the opposite - even nighttime could be spent in shorts and crop tops. There was something oddly romantic in toasty midnights.

Like on many other Saturdays, Bradley and you were joining his friends at the Hard Deck to drink a few beers, win a few pool games and laugh a little. It was a great tradition of keeping life a little lighter, a little brighter, than military reality could provide. Walking from the car to the bar, you ran into Maverick who couldn't pass up the opportunity to call Bradley "kid" and get a groan out of him. Teasing Rooster was a pastime you both adored and it seemed as though, although he was never going to admit it, you were members of a very small circle of people who were allowed to do so.

Then, you heard someone call out your name in a bizarrely questioning manner as if that someone wasn't too sure they matched the right name to the right face.

You turned around only to be stunned in surprise for the second time that day: Liam Jones, flesh and bones. He looked different than how you remembered him, a lot more... well-behaved. In a way, it felt strange to see him wearing a polo shirt and loafers, something he had sworn never to put on simply because it was too much like his father. His dark hair looked slightly greasy with the number of styling products he put into it. To your horror, he was holding a quite large bouquet of flowers.

"Liam? What are you doing here?" Somehow, you managed to slip out of Bradley's tightening grip on your waist and rushed to the man in hopes of getting rid of him rather quickly - before he could cause a scene.

"Jesus Christ, not this clown," Bradley groaned but you were already too far to hear him.

"Who's that?" Maverick asked. A teasing smile crept unto his face when he noticed the annoyed expression on Rooster's face. "Oh, you got competition?"

"Please," Bradley scoffed at the ridiculous suggestion. It wasn't that he convinced himself he had no "competition" - he knew it and you made it fairly obvious to everyone. "Don't compare me to a guy in loafers. It's her shithead ex-boyfriend."

"Hey, Bradley, have you ever given her a bouquet even close in size to that one?" Maverick was, clearly, having fun teasing him. He could see how Rooster clenched his jaw and took a deep breath, his face becoming redder as anger only continued to boil inside him.

The flowers smelled lovely but you really wanted to throw them away in an instant. Instead of a gift or courtesy, they were more akin to the fascinating exterior of a dew plant. Additionally, it seemed that two years weren't enough for Liam to learn about your love for Birds of Paradise. Bradley, on the other hand, needed one sentence and soon your house was flooded with those exotic flowers and attached love notes. Liam's bouquet felt uncomfortably heavy in your hands as if you were holding something you weren't quite supposed to.

"I manage my dad's company now," he gloated. It was either a ruse or he really did get a New York accent. "I'm a busy, rich man, baby girl." The pet name, although had been so normal while you were together now made you shudder. It was more than inappropriate for him to use it. "Actually, I had to turn down a few beautiful ladies to be here now."

"Good for them, I guess," you whispered to yourself. "Look, Liam, I don't hate you. I'm genuinely happy you're doing better now, I really am. I just don't want to have anything to do with you. I'm over us, over you. It's been literal years. We had our chance and it didn't work, simple as that. No hard feelings. Let's just live on, man."

Liam's lips tightened in a thin line as if he was holding back his anger. It made you realize that although he looked and sounded like a new man entirely, he was exactly the same dead-end layabout you had known and that Liam Jones did not, in fact, change at all.

"I really want to punch him," Bradley said to Maverick, although it sounded more like he was speaking to himself. His hand was already clenched and the warm night suddenly felt nearly as hot as early afternoon. "I'm gonna throw up," he mumbled while watching Liam try to kiss the back of your hand but you pulled it back before his lips could touch your skin.

Bradley couldn't see your face, only your back but had just the perfect view of Liam's slimy grin filled with misguided self-confidence. He could tell that guy had less than no respect for your relationship and, in a way, it hurt his pride that he was regarded as replaceable after being with you for a few years. Another thing was the annoying sheer audacity Liam needed to have in order to assume he could be a wedge driven between Bradley and you.

"Oh, would you look at this, Bradley!" Pete exclaimed in a theatrical manner and pointed at the ocean - in the opposite direction of you and Liam. "Such a nice view! I’ll just turn around and stare at it for the next few minutes."

"Thanks, Mav," he said while patting Pete on the back before storming toward you and Liam, set on getting his point across.

"You're giving up that easily?" It was the first that Bradley heard coming out of Liam's mouth and it only made his anger rise. "Come on, we were great together! Have you forgotten all about it? You were a queen in a castle." It's pretty ironic for him to say all that when that very night was the first time he has ever given you flowers.

"Dude, you had your shot and you missed shooting your own fucking foot." Bradley's sudden appearance surprised you. For some reason, you had assumed he went inside with Maverick. "You just look stupid."

"Him? 180 pounds of douche? Really?" Liam asked you while rudely pointing at Bradley with his index finger and completely ignoring the comment. His cheeks were slightly raised in contempt. "Come on, baby girl, you can do so much better. You deserve so much better." Bradley rolled his eyes at the clear implication that Liam was the "better option" in his own opinion.

Before you could prevent the two men from starting a cockfight, Rooster swung his fist at Jones's jaw, making the man stumble back as he struggled to keep his balance.

"What the fuck, man!" Liam yelled out while holding his red jaw. It was slowly starting to swell.

"Peace out!" Rooster yelled back before wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you toward the bar. To make matter worse, he took the flowers from your hands and threw them in the general direction of Liam.

It would be a euphemism to say you were shocked at Bradley's behaviour but, to be perfectly honest, you weren't that far from throwing hands yourself; talking to Liam was like arguing with a wall. You just didn't quite like the thought of him getting into fights left and right.

"It was really unnecessary to hit him, Bradshaw," you scolded him. Bradley looked at you in with a both surprised and hurt expression as if he had truly expected you to be eternally grateful for his actions. "But it was kind of hot. You're like the first guy to get into a fight for me but I'd rather it's the last one, alright?."

"Kinda hot, you say?" he asked with a playful grin. "Maybe I'll try not to make it a habit."

You yelped feeling his big hand gently squeeze your buttcheek. Bradley Bradshaw was an absolute menace but there was no other you'd rather put up with than him.

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sehtoast · 26 days

Note

Hii! Id like a request!

Could you perhaps do a scenario where the reader gets stranded at an airport (Perhaps with panic attack)?

I'm experiencing this currently and thinking about Homelander is helping, Somehow

i'm so sorry you had to go through that anon ❤️ homie has an odd way of making life's woes suck a little less. apologies that this took as long as it did (and also i've never been in an airport before so idk if this is even the right vibe adfkljdfk), but i hope it's still enjoyable and i hope your airport adventure ended happily.

Oh, if you thought it couldn’t get worse, you were so wrong.

Cancellations across the board, a raging snow storm outside, disgruntled people everywhere, and far too much noise for your overloaded senses. This is what you get for flying out to go see a friend in the dead of winter.

It wasn’t like you could call an uber to the nearest hotel, either. Pretty much nobody was going anywhere in this storm, and you’ve been here for hours now. God, you should’ve picked a morning flight, but you just haaaad to sleep in.

Eventually it started getting to you.

You’re alone, surrounded by angry people, in the middle of fuck knows where, with no guarantee of getting home or if your ticket is still going to be honored and–

You don’t even notice your breathing growing frantic until it’s overpowering and all you can do is hug your knees and try to stay calm–

You reach for your phone and send off a text to the one person who would maybe be awake at this hour.

God I’m fucking stuck here and I miss you and I don’t know what to do.

Your chest feels tight and your mouth is dry. You hold your phone tight, cringing at the battery level.

7%.

You’d love to charge it, but the iPad parents are currently occupying every outlet in the area and if you hear one more child scream because they couldn’t watch their damn skibidi toilet videos–

It buzzes and you unlock it like a madman.

Told ya you should’ve flown air-Homelander.

You smile, warmth trickling in to fill your otherwise endless pit of anxiety.

It would’ve been too cold on my face :( and you’d be carrying all my luggage. Besides, I couldn't ask you to fly all this way.

The next response comes almost instantly. Well, as instantly as it can with how slow he types.

Picky picky. Where are you?

In the lounge-ish area. On the floor, because I guess I picked the busiest airport in the world…

2%. You’re almost ready to snag one of those outlets and suffer the blubbering.

Shucks, that’s a bummer.

It’s not so–

You wince as your screen flickers, waves of sadness overtaking you in conjunction with that dreaded anxiety. Gone is your only lifeline, and it hits you that you’ll have technically left him on read too. You should’ve told him about your battery– fuck, fuck, fuck.

You hug your knees again and shove your useless earbuds in, hoping to dampen some of the noise. It doesn’t work, and you can distinctly make out the sound of a man loudly demanding a full refund.

You try to imagine Homelander. What tales would he have for you once you returned home? How much trouble did he stir up while you were away? Probably the usual, but… you were supposed to see him tomorrow morning when you got home.

God, that thought makes you ache for home even more.

You shut your eyes and attempt a nap.

You try and try to sleep to no avail. Just when you think you might get a wink of rest, you hear audible gasps and shouting. Your eyes shoot open, expecting the absolute worst, but all you see are two imposing sets of red boots.

“You forgot to text me back,” he says nonchalantly.

Tears of joy bite at your eyes as you look up, and you all but launch yourself off the ground and into his arms.

“M’sorry,” you mumble against him. “Battery died.”

“Mm, if you say so. I feel like this was all part of your elaborate plan to get me here.” Homelander pulls away just slightly to look down at you, a twinkle of sympathy in his eyes- a very rare sight. “Well, I know I can’t fly you home, because you’ll turn into a big popsicle, but… there is a hotel nearby and you do deserve a nice place to lay your head.”

Your heart feels so warm it could melt the blizzard outside.

“You just gotta tolerate a little cold.” He grins, winking at you. “And air-Homelander doesn’t have delays. No luggage fees either.”

You throw yourself back into the hug, squeezing him with all you’ve got.

“You’re the best,” you whisper in his ear.

“Yeah, I know.” He replies, uncaring of the spectacle you two must be. “Now let’s get you cozy.”

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #antony starr #the boys #request

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discount-shades · 1 year

Text

Sleepy Baby Part 3

a/n: Well now there is a Part 3.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin / Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 800 ish

Summary: We find out the real reason Jake is called Hangman.

Previous Masterlist Next

“There is something wrong with your phone number.” Jake was staring intently at the sheet of paper. All the lines for your number were still blank and the baby’s crib was almost drawn.

“My number is perfect, and it only has three different digits,” you reply.

Jake counted his guesses. “That doesn’t make any sense, I’ve guessed 8 numbers already!”

“Yeah but you guessed five twice.” You pointed to where you'd written the number down twice. “I wasn’t going to mention it.” Jake groaned and rubbed his face. You couldn’t help grinning at the pink that was spreading on his cheeks. “Is this performance anxiety because you are not playing Hangman?”

“No… maybe?” He sat up and looked back at the numbers. “I was guessing local area code numbers.” He explained. “You, Kisses, are not from around here.”

“Oooh, solid strategy.” You were impressed he had a strategy. You would have just guessed the numbers 0-9 in order. “It would have worked too if I didn’t move here six months ago.”

Jake quickly guesses the final three numbers and you fill them into the blank spaces. As soon as you had written the last number down he gently slid the paper out from under your hand. He took a picture on his phone of the paper and then entered your number into his contacts.

“You still don’t know my name,” you laugh at his eagerness. “What are you going to put as the contact?”

“Hugs and Kisses,” he shows you the contact where XOXOXO is written instead of your name. Your phone dings when he sends you a text. “Can I be Baby in your phone?”

“Sleepy Baby.” You say firmly. You add his contact and send him a sleeping and a baby emoji.

“Ready for my name?” you say pulling the paper back to you. “Are you going to go for the standard guess the vowels strategy or start guessing letters in common names from my age range, like Jessica, or Ashley?”

“J.” He says immediately. You add it to the wrong letters bank and add a bar to the crib. “I thought you were giving me a hint!” His outraged face makes you roll your eyes.

“I’m not going to give you hints,” you tell him. “But this baby will have ten fingers and ten toes before you leave if it has too.”

“This would go way faster if you gave me hints,” he is pouting and you find it adorable.

“I like to watch you struggle,” you tell him. “Next letter.”

“Z.”

“It’s like you don’t want to know my name.”

…

Five minutes later you hear him say your name for the first time. You can't help the way your stomach flips and your heart beats faster at the sound of your name on his lips. “Hi Jake.” You reply and you can feel yourself blushing.

He had finally managed to uncover your name but the baby had ten fingers and two toes. “Do you actually let your niece win or are you just bad at hangman?” You ask him.

“Both.” He replies honestly. “Whenever I do figure it out I deliberately guess the wrong letters.”

“If you are so bad at hangman, why is that your name?”

“It’s a Navy thing.” he shrugs. “Call signs are meant to keep you humble.”

“Clearly it didn't work for you,” you raise your eyebrows at him and he just winks in response.

There is a knock on the door and Eillen, your coworker, peeks in. “Your 3:00 Art Group starts in ten minutes.”

“Shit, I have to get the paint out!” you jump to your feet. Jake immediately offers to help and you lead him to the activity room and instruct him how you want the tempera paint poured into the trays. You get the brushes, water cups and paper out for the activity you had planned.

When everything is set up you gently push Jake toward the door with your hand on his chest. “Thanks for helping me set up but you have to go before the kids get here.”

“I’m glad I found you.” His voice is soft and he is staring into your eyes the way he did the first night you met him.

“Me too.” you duck your head and smile before looking back up.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Excitement is shining in his green eyes.

“I could be persuaded.” He gives you his full smile and brings the hand that you have against his chest to his lips. He presses a gentle kiss on your knuckles and the butterflies are back.

“I'll call you tomorrow.” He promises as he walks away, pumping his fists in the air when he leaves the library.

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin/reader #jake seresin x reader #topgun maverick #top gun hangman #hangman/reader #hangman top gun #hangman #jake seresin x you #topgun #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader

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chelseachilly · 10 months

Text

the easy silence that you make for me

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: you’ve been struggling with anxiety due to stress at work recently, and you refuse to let ben see it until he flies you out to mykonos for the weekend and you can’t keep it in anymore (fluff + light angst) warnings: mentions of an anxiety attack word count: 5k

author’s note: thanks to the anon who requested this, it was nice to write something quick (which ended up being 5k lmao) before embarking on my next ben multi-chap! if anyone has any more concept/one-shot requests for ben in the meantime feel free to send them my way 🥰

After an exhausting season for Chelsea and a particularly difficult one for Ben with his second major injury in two years and missing the World Cup, you know badly he’s in need of a holiday.

When he tells you of his travel plans with the boys for the beginning of summer, a part of you feels relieved that he’s going to finally get the chance to unwind with his mates and leave the past year behind him.

Another part of you, though, is dreading him being away.

You haven’t wanted to bother Ben with it, as he’s had enough of his own stuff going on, but work has been kicking your arse lately. You got promoted recently and although it seemed great at first, it’s more responsibility than you anticipated and much more stress.

The only solace you’ve found during this time has been in Ben. Although you haven’t let him see how much you’re struggling, just his presence is incredibly comforting to you. To come home after a long, terrible day and find him standing in the kitchen making you dinner in his underwear, a bright smile on his face when he sees you, is all the remedy you need.

The moment he leaves for Spain, you feel your mental health start to decline. You know you can’t be with him all the time, and you’ve certainly dealt with separations before when he was away on international break, but this is by far the hardest one yet.

Ben texts you constantly throughout the trip, updating you on the fun he’s having with the boys at the F1 and telling you how much he wishes you were there with him. Obviously, you can’t take weeks off to follow him around Europe, as much as you wish you could.

You struggle more and more as the first two weeks of his time away comes to an end. The days are long, as you work yourself to the bone and come home completely exhausted, but the nights are even harder as you find it increasingly difficult to fall asleep without Ben next to you.

One night, when you know for a fact that Ben is chilling with the boys at the house they’ve rented in Mykonos as you’re tossing and turning in bed, you admit defeat and reach for your phone to text him. It’s a couple hours later there, but they’re probably still up.

You Hey, are you still awake? x

Ben ❤️ Yeah, what’s up baby? Everything ok?

You Just having trouble sleeping

Your phone starts ringing within seconds, and you accept Ben’s call right away.

“Hi,” you mumble quietly into the phone, sitting up a bit in bed.

“Are you alright, love?” Ben asks you, his voice full of concern.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, snuggling into the pillow that still smells a bit like him. “I just miss you.”

It’s not the entire truth, but you know it’s all you can say to him without him booking a flight home to you this instant and abandoning his holiday, so you leave it at that.

“Oh, babe, I miss you too,” Ben sighs. “One more week, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree halfheartedly, though that feels like centuries right now.

“Are you really okay?” Ben asks worriedly. “Because I can come home-“

“No way, Ben,” you cut him off. “You’re not coming home early for me, I won’t allow it.”

“But-“

“I’m fine, I swear,” you lie. “I just needed to hear your voice for a bit.”

That part is true - Ben’s soft, soothing voice is like music to your ears, making you feel more relaxed already.

There are muffled voices on the other end for a moment, and then Ben speaks again.

“Why don’t you fly out after work tomorrow and spend the weekend here?”

Although the thought of being in Ben’s arms less than 24 hours from now is incredibly appealing, you can’t help but feel hesitant.

For one thing, you don’t want to spend the money on a last-minute flight, and though you know Ben will offer to pay for it, you don’t like how much money he spends on you as it is.

You also feel a bit weird crashing his boys trip, knowing that none of the other guys’ girlfriends are there at the moment and you would be the only one.

When you voice these concerns to Ben, however, he won’t hear it.

“Babe, don’t be silly, we’d love to have you. I just asked the boys and they all agreed,” he insists. “And I’m getting you a flight right now-“

“Ben, I-“

“Look, I miss you like crazy too, so it’s more of a gift for me than anything else,” he tells you. “We’ll just have a nice relaxing weekend and you’ll be back at work for Monday. Please, Y/N?”

You pause for a moment, but you know you’re incapable of saying no to him, especially when you miss him this badly and are struggling so much.

“Alright, I’ll come,” you say with a small smile.

“Yes! I can’t wait to see you,” Ben responds, and you can hear his grin through the phone. “I’ll send you the flight details and pick you up at the airport when you get here. Just try to get some sleep now, okay?”

The thought of being able to fall asleep in his arms tomorrow is just enough to be able to lull you to rest tonight, so after exchanging “I love you”s you bid him goodnight and close your eyes.

The next day, your anxiety persists as you hurry to finish up your work responsibilities so that you can make your flight on time.

Unfortunately, a last-minute emergency (which there seem to be a lot of these days) at the office means that you have to scramble to get out of there on time to get home, pack, and make your way to the airport.

Your stress dissipates a bit as you settle in for the flight, enjoying the comfy first class seat Ben got you and a couple glasses of champagne. Most importantly, you remind yourself that you’ll soon be by Ben’s side and everything will be right in your world again.

By the time you land on Mykonos, you’re already feeling a bit better, but it’s nothing compared to when you see your boyfriend for the first time in two weeks.

He’s standing in the arrivals area, wearing a simple black t-shirt and shorts with his blue Nikes. He’s slightly tan, his hair is a bit tousled, and he looks more relaxed than you’ve seen him all year. He also looks incredibly attractive to you right now (even more so than usual) which could be his whole holiday vibe or the fact that you haven’t seen him in weeks - or both.

The moment he sees you, his bright blue-green eyes that rival the colour of the sea you just flew over light up and his face stretches into a smile.

He jogs over to you with open arms and you meet him halfway, dropping your bag to throw your arms around him and hug him tightly.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Ben mumbles into your hair as he hugs you just as close, briefly lifting your feet off the ground. “God, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you sigh into his neck, pressing a few quick kisses there. “So much, Ben.”

You could almost cry from the relief of being held by him, his hand rubbing circles on your lower back and the scent of his aftershave as you breathe him in making your worries melt away.

When Ben tries to pull back a bit and you reflexively cling to him tighter, not ready to let him go, he just tightens his grip on you and presses a kiss to your temple.

“Is everything okay, love?” he whispers near your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

Of course, after a couple of years together, Ben is able to read you pretty easily. Between your phone call last night and the way you’re clinging to him like a lifeline right now, it’s fairly obvious that something is up with you.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you say to him, grateful your face is still buried in his neck so he can’t tell you’re lying.

You aren’t all good, but you are better than you’ve been since he left, and you aren’t going to waste your weekend together before another week and a half apart. There’s still a pit of anxiety in your stomach, but you’re determined to not let that ruin your time with him or his holiday.

To prove your point, you pull back from him and take his face in your hands, admiring him for a moment before pulling him in for a long kiss.

He sighs into your mouth and grips your waist tighter as you kiss him, both of you wanting it to escalate more than you reasonably can in the middle of an airport.

When you pull away, resting your forehead against his for a moment, you think the kiss may have erased Ben’s previous concern from his mind, but no such luck.

“You promise you’re alright?” Ben murmurs, cupping your face and brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I was worried about you last night.”

Your heart swells with affection for a moment at his gentle concern, but then you remember this is the last thing you want - Ben should be relaxing, not worrying about you.

“I promise, babe,” you say with another gentle peck to his lips. “I was just missing you, but I’m good now. Perfect, actually.”

Ben nods, though he still looks slightly unconvinced. He does drop the subject though, at least for now.

Grabbing your bag in one hand and your hand in the other, Ben leads you out of the airport to the car that’s waiting to take you back to the house.

You can tell how much lighter he seems than the last time you saw him, telling you excitedly about everything he and the boys have been getting up to and how nice it’s been.

When you arrive at the beautiful house with an infinity pool overlooking the sea, you’re greeted with enthusiasm by all of Ben’s mates. They’re always nice to you, and have been since you first met them at the beginning of the relationship, but you wonder if Ben told them to be extra nice or something - Harvey has you in a tight hug and Anish is offering you a cocktail before you’re even through the door.

You all settle into the patio furniture out back with some drinks and dinner that the guys made, enjoying some music and the gorgeous sunset over the water. It takes you a bit of time to ease into the relaxation after being so tense for weeks, but it’s hard not to feel at total peace when you’re in such a beautiful place surrounded by people you love.

You’re curled up on the sofa with Ben, your legs draped over his lap and your hands intertwined, when the idea of going to a club is suggested.

While all the others are in agreement, Ben turns to you and murmurs quietly in your ear.

“Totally up to you, babe,” he says. “I’d be just as happy to stay here with you and watch a film or something.”

As appealing as it sounds to stay in alone with Ben, all the boys seem to be buzzing to go out and you don’t want to put a damper on things by insisting he stay here with you.

“No, let’s go,” you say with a small smile, trying to encourage yourself as well. “It’ll be fun, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ben grins, leaning in to kiss you.

You quickly get ready while Ben takes a quick shower, grateful that you remembered to bring one outfit suitable for going out, a simple light blue dress with matching heels.

You’re just doing up the straps on your shoes, sitting on the bed, when Ben walks out of the bathroom with just a towel around his waist. You take a moment to admire your boyfriend, your eyes raking over his defined muscles.

“You look incredible,” Ben says, walking in your direction with a smile on his face.

“You look pretty good right now, too,” you tease, very obviously checking him out.

“Oh yeah?” Ben smirks, coming closer and bending down to kiss you.

“Mhm,” you mumble against his lips, hands resting on his bare shoulders as you anchor yourself to him, pulling him in for another deep kiss.

You’re interrupted by the sound of someone knocking, immediately followed by Tom’s voice on the other side of the door.

“I’ve ordered the Uber, hurry up you two!”

Ben groans and reluctantly pulls away from you with one more quick kiss.

“To be continued,” he says emphatically as he goes to get dressed.

“Definitely,” you chuckle, already looking forward to getting lost in him the moment you get back tonight.

Within ten minutes, you’re all out the door and on the way to the club. It’s a big, glamorous beachfront club that’s already packed with hundreds of people by the time you arrive. Clubbing was never really your thing, but you’ve found that the ones Ben and his friends go to - on the higher end, with decent music and comfy booths - are generally pretty fun.

Harvey gives your names at the door and soon you’re immersed in the party, Ben’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist as you navigate the room to get to the VIP section.

The first hour or so you’re there is mostly nice, enjoying the feeling of being pressed up against Ben’s side as you sip on overpriced champagne and enjoy the music. You have fun chatting and catching up with all the boys about their various work endeavours and the girls they’re seeing.

You try to suppress thoughts of work and all the stress that is waiting for you when you return to reality on Monday, and you’re mostly successful.

Until you make the mistake of checking your phone in the bathroom and see a million work-related emails that have piled up since you last looked.

You know everything can wait til after your little weekend getaway is over, but the thought of facing another week of hell without Ben home to calm your nerves is enough to make you begin to spiral. You’re already at your stress limit, and you’re not sure how much more you can take before you hit your breaking point.

Suddenly feeling a need to get back to your group - specifically to Ben - you rush out of the washroom.

The bright strobe lights and the loud music, compounded with the way your mind is already racing makes it hard to breathe. You’re completely disoriented as you look around the room, trying to remember where you’re going as you navigate the sea of people.

All the negative thoughts swimming around in your brain and the stress are heightening your senses, and you nearly lose your footing, having to grab onto a railing for stability.

“Y/N? What are you - are you alright?”

You’re calmed slightly by the familiar voice, managing to look up and meet eyes with Tom in the midst of your impending panic attack. He looks confused and a bit worried, obviously not understanding what’s wrong with you. You don’t really know what’s wrong with you in the moment either, just that you can’t breathe properly and you need Ben.

“Did something happen?” Tom asks again, still frantic.

“I-I can’t-“ you try to say, grabbing Tom’s arm for stability as you once again begin to falter. “Can you-I need-“

Tom says something quickly to Harvey, who you hadn’t even realized was there until just now. A moment later, Harvey is gone, and Tom is gently grabbing your shoulders and leading you away from the music and the crowd.

You don’t notice that he’s taking you outside until you feel the slightly cool air hit you, providing you with some relief and making it somewhat easier to breathe.

Tom leads you to a nearby bench and helps you sit down, and though he’s rubbing your back and trying to talk to you comfortingly, you don’t really register it.

“I need-can you get Ben?” you ask him once you’re able to get a few more words out, and Tom nods immediately.

“He’s coming, don’t worry,” he assures you. “Just try to breathe, he’ll be right here.”

You nod, shutting your eyes tightly to fight back the tears and trying to breathe as well as you can.

As promised, within a few moments you feel a pair of warm hands on yours and you open your eyes to see Ben kneeling in front of you, looking up at you with wide and terrified eyes.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks you, looking from you to Tom, who is able to offer no explanation. “Are you hurt? Did someone-“

“No, no,” you manage to choke out, wanting to quell his fears before his mind can run too far. “I just-I was trying to find you and I couldn’t-there were so many people and I just-“

You know he still doesn’t fully understand what’s wrong, as you’ve never struggled much with crowds of people before. You’ve been to loads of parties and events together, you’ve supported him in stadiums of thousands of people, and it’s never been an issue. Nevertheless, when you begin to cry more freely, your body continuing to tremble, he quickly moves into the spot Tom has vacated for him and pulls you into his arms.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s alright,” he murmurs into your hair as he holds you tightly, pulling you closer until you’re basically in his lap. “You found me, I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

You bury your face in his chest, your tears staining his white t-shirt as you cry. Although you can feel the panic in your chest lessening with every second in Ben’s presence, the full weight of all the stress and emotions of the last few months hits you like a freight train.

Ben continues to murmur soothing words to you, stroking your hair with one hand and rubbing your back with the other as your sobs gradually wane.

You manage to get your breathing under control, soaking up the comfort of his touch and the gentle words he’s whispering in your ear.

Eventually, you pull back from him, wiping your mascara-streaked cheeks. Ben is still looking at you with immense concern, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek.

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

You nod your head, grabbing his other hand and squeezing it tightly. You know you need to open up to him. This breakdown is proof that you can’t keep holding it in anymore.

“Okay, I’ll call an Uber,” he says with a quick kiss to your forehead.

“Actually, can we wait a few minutes? Maybe take a walk?” you ask. “I think I just need a bit more fresh air before getting in the car.”

“Of course, babe, let me just tell the boys-“

Before Ben can finish the thought, your friends reappear, having given you some privacy so Ben could comfort you. With a gentle smile, Harvey passes you a glass of water, which you gratefully take.

“You feeling better, Y/N?” Anish asks.

“Yeah, thanks, just got a bit overwhelmed in there,” you say, sipping the cold water. “Sorry, guys, didn’t mean to ruin the night like this.”

“Don’t be silly, you haven’t,” Tom insists. “We were just worried about you.”

You nod appreciatively, laying your head on Ben’s shoulder for a moment as you continue to come down from the panic attack, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your bare knee.

“You want me to call a car, Chilly?”

“Nah, thanks, mate,” Ben says. “We’re just gonna go for a walk and cool down a bit, you guys go on inside and we’ll see you back at the house.”

“Alright,” Harvey smiles, squeezing your shoulder gently. “Glad you’re okay. See you later.”

The boys all bid you goodbye and go back into the club, leaving you and Ben alone once more. He carefully helps you to your feet, and you lean on him even though you’re much steadier than you were before.

“Wanna go down to the beach?” Ben asks, gesturing toward a path that leads to the shimmering blue water.

You nod, taking his hand in yours and intertwining your fingers as he leads you down the path.

The beach is totally quiet at this time of night, a stark contrast from the loud and bustling club you just left, and you hold Ben’s arm for stability as you take off your heels to carry them. The feeling of the sand beneath your feet and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore helps to calm your senses.

You find a nice, secluded spot to sit and look out at the ocean. Before you can even complain of the slight chill, Ben removes his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you whisper, reaching out to grab his hand again, needing to maintain physical contact with him.

“Of course,” Ben says, squeezing your hand. “Will you please tell me what’s going on now, babe? You’ve seemed a bit off since you got here, and last night on the phone. I’m worried about you.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you say. “I didn’t want to ruin your holiday with all this, I’ve just been struggling a bit lately. Work has gotten crazy stressful and so much stuff is piling up on me, it’s been making my anxiety a lot worse than it usually is. Tonight I just happened to check my work email in the toilets and I guess it triggered me, then the noise and the lights and everything were really overwhelming and I could tell I was about to have a panic attack. Luckily, Tom found me before it got too bad.”

Ben, who knows you’ve dealt with anxiety in the past and particularly in uni, just nods in understanding.

“You’ve been struggling these whole two weeks I’ve been gone?” he asks, visibly upset that you’re just telling him now.

It makes it even harder to tell him the full truth, but you know the point of this conversation is to be truly honest with him, even if it’s difficult.

“A few months, actually,” you confess. You see how his face falls completely, and you immediately elaborate. “I know I should’ve told you, but you’ve had such a tough year with the club and the World Cup and everything, I couldn’t bring myself to burden you with anything else.”

His eyes flash with a million different emotions, and for a moment you think he’s going to be mad at you, but he ends up just letting out a defeated sigh.

“You could never be a burden to me, Y/N,” Ben says firmly. “You’re everything to me. It doesn’t matter what I have going on, I need you to tell me if you’re going through something like this. Always.”

“I know, I will,” you reply, squeezing his hand again.

He takes your joined hands and brings them to his lips, pressing a kiss to each of your knuckles.

“I am so sorry I didn’t realize there was something going on earlier,” Ben says after a moment, shaking his head. “I feel like the world’s shittiest boyfriend.”

“Don’t apologize, baby, you’ve been going through a lot yourself,” you remind him.

“Yeah, but you’ve been there for me through all of it. Helping me when I was injured and talking me through every loss, week after week,” Ben sighs, the memories of the past season still fresh. “And I didn’t even know you were dealing with your own problems.”

“It’s alright, Ben, I promise,” you say with a small smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. “I’ve been managing okay, just being with you helps a lot. It’s been hardest these couple weeks you’ve been away.”

“I’m so sorry, if I had known I would have-“

“I know, that’s why I didn’t say anything,” you tell him, your thumb stroking his sweet, concerned features. “You needed this holiday. I didn’t want you to be worrying about me.”

Ben wraps his arm around you and pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple and lingering there.

“Baby,” he murmurs so softly that your heart melts. “I love you, but I need you to be honest with me from now on. It breaks my heart that you were going through this alone.”

You nod, resting your cheek on his shoulder. “I know.”

“And as for the holiday, I think you’re in need of one, too,” he continues, rubbing your back. “You should tell your boss you’re taking the next week off and come to Italy with me. We’ve got the yacht all week.”

There’s nothing that sounds as appealing to you right now as spending a week in paradise, soaking up the sun and enjoying uninterrupted time with Ben, but you don’t know how well it will go over if you tell your boss you’re taking a week off with almost zero notice.

“Ben, you know I want to, but-“

“Babe, you’ve been working yourself like crazy since you started there. You’re one of their best employees and they would be lost without you,” Ben reminds you. “Tell them you need a break. I’m sure your boss will understand, and if she doesn’t, then maybe you should tell them you’ll reevaluate whether you have a future there.”

You know he’s right, but you’re still nervous to give that ultimatum. You’ve hardly taken any vacation in the past year and you’re certainly overdue for it, but it doesn’t come naturally to you to make demands - even when it’s necessary.

“What if they let me go?”

“Then they would be bloody idiots,” Ben scoffs. “You deserve to work somewhere that lets you prioritize your mental health, love. And if that’s not this job, then quit and we’ll find you something else.”

“I can’t just quit my job, Ben,” you chuckle, fiddling with the too-long sleeves of his jacket you’re wearing.

“You can if it doesn’t make you happy,” he replies without a beat. “And please don’t say need a steady income, because you know I don’t give a shit if you ever work another day in your life.”

While you’re aware that most of Ben’s mates - at least the ones in football - don’t have girlfriends with traditional jobs such as yourself, you’ve always liked making your own money. It’s not that you harbour any judgement for those who don’t, but you think you would go stir-crazy if you spent all your time waiting at home for Ben.

“I appreciate the offer, babe, but I think I just need to find a better work-life balance,” you admit. “Maybe a week off isn’t such a bad idea. I can talk to my boss in the morning.”

Ben’s face lights up and he begins to press little kisses all over your face, making your heart soar.

“Perfect, I was dreading saying goodbye to you again,” he confesses. “I hate sleeping without you.”

“So do I,” you murmur, pressing your lips against his briefly, pulling apart when a thought occurs to you. “I don’t have enough clothes for a week.”

“You won’t need them,” Ben replies without missing a beat, making you laugh and shove his chest playfully. “Or we can go shopping. Whatever you want, love.”

You smile into Ben’s kiss and he deepens it quickly, his arm wrapping around you to tug you impossibly closer. You sigh happily, enjoying the serenity and intimacy of this moment.

When you pull back again, he gently cups your cheek and you lean into his warm palm, pressing a quick kiss there.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asks softly. “Do you want to go back to the house?”

“I am feeling better, but I just want to stay here a little longer if that’s alright.”

“Of course, baby,” Ben smiles, shifting slightly and opening his arms wide so you can lean back against him.

He positions you so you’re inbetween his legs, leaning against his chest, with his arms tightly wrapped around you and your hands clutching his.

You’re both silent for a whole, listening to the sound of the sea and enjoying each other’s touch after a long two weeks without it.

“Promise me one more time that you’ll tell me if you’re ever feeling this way again,” Ben murmurs into your hair after a few minutes. “Because seeing you like that is one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced. I was so worried.”

Your heart aches a bit as you realize what a sight you must’ve been for your poor worried boyfriend, sobbing incoherently outside the club.

“I promise, Ben,” you say with a squeeze of his hand. “I won’t keep anything from you again.”

“Okay,” he breathes, lips pressed to your head. “I love you so much. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this by yourself, but I’m really glad you’re here with me now.”

“I love you too,” you say, snuggling deeper into his arms. “And I’m also really glad I’m here.”

Ben continues to press kisses to your head as you stare out at the sea, the comfort of his touch washing over you like the waves lapping against the shore.

Although there will be more hurdles for both of you to face as you continue your respective careers, you know that as long as you have Ben and ensure that you communicate your feelings, everything will be fine.

And in the meantime, you get to spend a week on a yacht with your hot boyfriend. Life could be a lot worse.

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell x y/n #chelsea fc imagine #my fics

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