#never got tired of him yelling at me though

[keeryhours]

please don’t go, i love you so - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby daddy! Rafe

Summary:

When you get in a serious accident, Rafe’s true feelings are left staring him in the face.

Requested

Warnings:

Lots of drama and angst, language, serious car accident, medical stuff, talk of TBIs, broken bones, and other injuries

Word Count: 4k

A/N:

Had to do research for this one, but I’m definitely no expert on medical stuff so forgive me if I get something wrong 🥲 Requests are open! BD Rafe requests can be anywhere in the timeline, past, future, smut, fluff, or angst :) Other OBX (or ST) requests also very welcome. I hope you enjoy this one!

let me know if you want to be on any tag lists :)

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

—

“Iris, please, baby, we’ve got to get your shoes on.”

“No!” the toddler yelled back, running circles around the living room.

You were out of energy. You sat on the couch, your face in your hands, as she continued to run and you tried to clear your head and just breathe.

It had been a long day. A bad day. Iris had been absolutely wild, endless energy and more attitude in her nearly 2 year old self than you thought possible. And it didn’t help that JJ was out with the pogues, so you didn’t even have any backup. It was 7pm, nearing her bedtime, and this had been your whole day. You were over it.

Everything had been a fight with her all day, but the current one was getting her dressed for pickup. It was Rafe’s weekend, and he’d be pulling up any second. You didn’t feel too thrilled about seeing Rafe right now, either.

Things had been complicated with Rafe. You felt like it was a constant back and forth with him, especially recently. Not about co-parenting, never about Iris - you knew you were lucky that the two of you got along so well when it came to parenting your daughter. It was feelings that got tricky.

You didn’t even know how you felt about Rafe yourself. On one hand, you knew you loved him. You’d always love him. But just because you loved him didn’t mean you should be together. You could never forget the toxic situation your relationship had been. Constant fighting, endless tears, trust issues and anger problems.

That’s not even to mention the way he would act around you lately. He was hot and cold. Sometimes he acted all affectionate, kissing and touching you, fucking you, like you’d never broken up in the first place. Other times he was cold and withdrawn. It left you feeling confused, like emotional whiplash, and you were honestly tired of it.

You debated on letting yourself have a quick cry, but quickly wrote that off as you thought of how humiliating it would be to answer the door to Rafe with your face all red and puffy from crying. You took a second to collect yourself, before putting the Mom pants back on.

“Iris Elaine Cameron,” you said sternly, standing from the couch.

The little girl came to a stop, looking up at you with a big grin on her face, totally oblivious to your frustration. The sight of her angelic face softens you immediately, of course. She had her light brown hair up in tiny pigtails, dressed in one of the many outfits Rafe had bought her. Some designer brand dress, not that you had any idea about that or thought it made much sense to dress a toddler in such expensive clothes. She looked cute, though.

You held up her Mary Jane shoes. “Are you gonna let Mommy put your shoes on so Daddy can come pick you up?” you asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Her little face lit up with joy. “Dada! Dada!”

Your heart clenched in your chest. Iris had been a total Daddy’s Girl since day 1 - and Rafe was completely wrapped around her little finger - but sometimes the reminder of him hit you especially hard.

At the promise of seeing her dad soon, Iris happily hopped over to you. You smiled as you lifted her onto your lap and slid her shoes on, buckling them. “There. See? All done,” you said. Iris held her palms out and twisted them, baby sign language for all done, which made you giggle. When you had read the articles and brought it up to Rafe, he had thought teaching her sign language as an infant was dumb. But it actually ended up being extremely helpful since she couldn’t communicate with words yet.

“Book?” she asked you, and you knew exactly what she wanted - her favorite book, Where the Wild Things Are. She’d have you read it 50 times a day if you’d do it. You smiled as you reached over to unzip the diaper bag, pulling the book out. She broke into a huge grin just at the sight of it.

You opened the beloved book and began to read to her, making her giggle with the different voices you’d do for the monsters. Her favorite part was always when you or Rafe would read the line “Oh please don’t go - we’ll eat you up - we love you so!” while attacking her with kisses and tickles. She laughed so hard every time.

When the book was finished, you closed it and slipped it back in the bag to go to her dad’s. She pouted like she was about to throw a fit if you didn’t read it again. “Uh uh. You’re gonna have to wait until Daddy reads it tonight.” You leaned in, rubbing your nose against hers, making her giggle.

You sat Iris down on the ground at the exact time you heard the front door opening. You raised your eyebrows knowingly at Iris, who’s eyes went wide in the direction of the hallway. You both knew perfectly well who it was.

Rafe sauntered into the living room, sunglasses sitting on his face despite the sun already beginning to set. His bored expression was immediately replaced by a huge grin as he saw his daughter.

“Hey, baby girl,” he said, lifting her into his arms as she squealed with delight.

You avoided eye contact with Rafe, busying yourself around the living room as you made sure everything Iris needed that he didn’t already have at his place was packed in her diaper bag. Once you were satisfied, you approached Rafe with the bag, handing it over. He took it from you with a curious expression.

“You’re being weird,” he said, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head.

You ignored him, leaning over to give Iris a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, baby. I’ll see you Sunday night, okay?”

Rafe doesn’t take his eyes off you, like he’s examining you inside and out. “What’s your deal?”

You sighed - you already felt defeated and exhausted going into this encounter, you didn’t really want to do this tonight. “Nothing. Everything is fine.”

But Rafe knows you better than anyone.

He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at you. “This is because I took Briana on another date, isn’t it?”

You felt your skin turn ice cold at the accusation, your defenses building themselves high. “That’s fucking ridiculous.”

The slightest smirk dances across his lips as he sits a wiggling Iris back on the ground, his eyes never leaving yours. “That is why you’re mad.”

You huffed an incredulous laugh as you crossed your arms and looked away from him, watching Iris start dragging everything you’d just cleaned up out of the toy box again, paying no mind to the two of you. “I’m not mad. And if I was, I have much better things to be upset about than who you choose to stick your dick into,” you hissed back at him.

Rafe barked out a laugh, looking up at the ceiling as he did like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. “You are so full of shit.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “Get out, Rafe. I’ll see you Sunday.”

He watched you for a minute longer as you both stood there in silence. Finally he let out a big sigh, running a hand over his face. “You’re such a bitch sometimes, you know that?”

You didn’t acknowledge the comment as he moved to lift Iris into his arms again, her bag slung over his shoulder. You followed him to the front door, ready to shut him out as soon as possible, but as soon as he stepped over the threshold, he turned back to you.

“You know, it’s none of your business who I see. We’re not together. You’re not my girl.”

You just looked at him, his words cutting far deeper and harder than you wanted to admit. “Same goes for you too, Rafe,” you said, thinking of the multiple times Rafe’s temper and jealousy had ruined one of your dates. Half the island was scared to even look at you because of him. It was fucking annoying.

Rafe scoffed. He shook his head one more time with that stupid grin on his face. “I’ll see you Sunday,” he said, and then he was walking off towards his truck.

You didn’t linger. You shut the door as soon as he stepped away, leaning against the wood as you took a deep, shaky breath. God, you hated that arrogant asshole sometimes.

You wallowed in your despair on the couch for a while that night, switching between various shows, none of them catching your interest. Eventually you think what’s the point, and decide to just go to bed early. You might as well take advantage of the sleep without having to worry about getting up early.

—

You hoped you would feel better the next day.

You didn’t.

You made breakfast for you and JJ, not something you typically do when Iris was at Rafe’s, but you felt like pancakes. And JJ certainly wasn’t going to complain.

“You look depressed,” JJ pointed out helpfully through a mouthful of pancake as you sat at the small dining table across from him.

You glared at him over your plate before eating a bite of your own breakfast. JJ held his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay. Touchy subject this morning, I see.”

As much as you loved your twin brother, you were relieved when he picked up his surf board after breakfast and told you he was going out. You didn’t exactly feel up to company.

With JJ gone, you attempted to stay busy around the house, but once everything was cleaned to perfection, you found yourself standing in the silent living room, feeling like you had no idea what to do with yourself. What was wrong with you, you thought. The place was always too quiet without Iris.

You needed a drive to clear your head.

You snatched your keys from the side table and left the house, still dressed in the tank top and athletic shorts you’d been cleaning the house in. You just wanted to drive around the island for a while, you weren’t really going anywhere, so you didn’t care how you looked.

You turned on your favorite sad playlist and sang at the top of your lungs to songs about love and broken hearts and pain. You felt pretty silly, but this was your time, your coping mechanism, and you weren’t going to feel bad about it.

Fuck Rafe Cameron. And not in the way you usually did.

You drove with the windows down, the salty breeze whipping through your hair, cooling your skin. You felt yourself starting to feel lighter.

You didn’t see the truck barreling faster than the speed limit around the corner. No one even had time to lay on the horn. You didn’t see or feel anything except a brief flash of pain and then - nothing.

—

“Wow! That’s beautiful, baby.”

Rafe lifted up the piece of paper covered in crayon scribbles, examining it like it was on display at The Louvre. It was the fifth one he’d been given since he sat on the floor with Iris, crayons and paper spread out all around them. Each piece of art went in a stack to be displayed somewhere in the house.

He watched his daughter as she picked up the green jumbo crayon and began roughly scribbling it across another blank page. The same big smile he always had around Iris was spread across his face. Nothing made him happier than spending time with her.

Rafe was caught off guard by the sound of his phone ringing loudly in his pocket. He sighed as he pulled it out, expecting to see either Topper or Kelce forgetting it was his weekend with Iris. But his eyebrows furrowed as he saw it was JJ calling him. JJ never called or texted him. They only had each other’s numbers in case of emergency.

Rafe felt a jolt of pure fear deep in his chest.

He answered the call, tentatively bringing the phone to his ear. “Maybank?” he answered.

He felt the nausea spread over him like a tidal wave when JJ spoke your name in his panicked voice. It was you. God, something bad had happened to you.

“S-slow down,” Rafe said, holding his shaking hand out in front of him as if JJ could see. Pure panic was spreading and growing through every vein in his body. “What…what happened?”

JJ’s voice was shaking too as he spoke. Rafe could tell he was pacing, probably pulling at his messy blonde hair as he did. “She- it was a truck. Guy was speeding and hit her head-on. Her car is totaled, they…they haven’t even let me see her yet. I don’t even know if she’s okay. Fuck, I shouldn’t have left this morning. Fuck!”

Rafe couldn’t even process JJ blaming himself for something that definitely wasn’t his fault, because he was doing the same thing. He had been a total asshole to you last night. The idea that that could possibly have been the last conversation he’ll ever have with you has him feeling like he’s going to be sick on the floor.

“I’m on my way,” Rafe said simply, and then he was hanging up the call, shoving his phone in his pocket and climbing to his feet.

Sarah was happy to watch Iris as Rafe grabbed his keys and sprinted to his truck, with promises to text her about your condition as soon as he knew anything at all. He probably would have been driving 15 over the speed limit if he wasn’t so disgustingly reminded of the dangers of the road. Instead he drove as fast as he safely could, a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel as he clenched his jaw tightly.

His head was spinning as he rushed into the hospital, looking around the waiting room for any sign of JJ. He didn’t see the blonde boy anywhere. He approached the receptionist desk instead, urgently giving your name to the tired looking receptionist.

“She’s in the Neuro ICU, room 5,” the receptionist said. Rafe felt his breath hitch - the fucking ICU? “We only allow two visitors at a time, and it’s immediate family only,” she continued. “You are…?”

Rafe hesitated. “Uh…I’m her boyfriend,” he said the first thing that came to mind. “But we have a child together. Please.”

The receptionist eyed him for a moment, before nodding, giving him a sympathetic look. She printed a visitor’s badge for him and handed it over. He thinks she said something about wishing you the best, but all he could hear was his own blood rushing in his ears as he mindlessly walked towards the elevators.

The last time Rafe had been in a hospital was for Iris’ birth, decidedly a much happier occasion. He felt out of place and awkward as he walked through the quiet, sterile halls, following signs pointing him where he wanted to go.

When he reached the ICU and approached room 5, he froze. He had never felt so scared in his life, he thought. He didn’t know if he could do this.

But you needed him.

He slid the glass door open, a flash of blonde hair peeking from around the privacy curtain where JJ was sitting. Rafe mustered all the strength he had to walk forward into the room. JJ looked up at him as he entered, but his eyes were immediately drawn to you as his heart shattered in his chest.

He clasped his hands behind his head as he took in the scene in front of him. He was holding off a panic attack as tears welled in his eyes. You were there on the bed, and you looked so utterly broken that it made Rafe feel like he couldn’t breathe. You were hooked up to an IV, about a million monitors mostly over your chest and head, a cast on an arm and one on a leg, a ventilator.

Rafe’s shaky legs practically gave out then, his body collapsing in the empty chair by your bedside. He was terrified to look at you, knowing he was going to start crying harder if he did. He looked at JJ instead, who looked equally wrecked, his eyes red from crying.

JJ gave Rafe the rundown the doctor had just given him. Traumatic brain injury, broken bones in your left arm and leg. You hadn’t regained consciousness at all since the accident. Things were still up in the air, nothing the doctors would say brought Rafe any comfort. They didn’t know about surgery yet, they didn’t know how long it would take you to recover, hell, they couldn’t even say if you’d be the same when you woke up.

When Rafe finally worked up the courage to be close to you, to actually look at you - he didn’t know his heart could break like this. Your normally smooth, perfect skin that he loved to trace his fingertips over because of the way you’d react to his touch, was now covered in deep bruises. Your face - that beautiful face he always adored so much, the one he fell in love with back in junior high - bruised and lacerated. He couldn’t even tell himself you were just peacefully napping. You looked like hell.

The next weeks were long and difficult. Iris stayed with the Cameron’s, and while Rafe spent every second he could drag himself away from your bedside spending it with her, he didn’t leave the hospital much at all. He grew used to sleeping in the world’s most uncomfortable chair.

Your recovery was truly a miracle. You didn’t end up needing brain surgery, but they kept you monitored for weeks. You did suffer a pretty bad TBI, and you had surgery to repair the broken bones in your arm and leg. The ventilator was removed first, which Rafe was the most relieved about, because that terrified him more than anything else.

When you finally woke up, Rafe was the first thing you saw.

The second he noticed your eyes fluttering open, Rafe was bolting up straight in his chair, his hand gently cupping your cheek with a barely-there touch as he whispered your name.

“R…Rafe?” you had croaked, voice raspy and dry from disuse and the ventilator tube being down your throat. Rafe called the nurses immediately, and multiple examinations, a plastic hospital jug of ice water, and some heavy pain meds later, you were feeling…okay.

JJ was there for most of the day like he was every day he didn’t have work. He actually cried when he showed up and saw you awake, which surprised Rafe because he didn’t even seem embarrassed about it. He just embraced you as gently as possible so as not to hurt you, and it was clear you were equally as happy to see him. There was that twin bond, something Rafe found a little weird (especially when the two of you would communicate without even talking) but also…endearing.

Recovery was a long road, and it was a lot of hard work, but the doctors were confident in your ability to return to normal in time. You had to work on your memory, your speech. Physical therapy took up most of your days. But Rafe knew you were strong, and you showed him every day. Even Iris got to visit as often as she could, but you didn’t want her in a hospital for too long so she wouldn’t get sick.

Rafe sat by your side late at night, gently brushing his fingers through your hair as you laid with your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling. Your hospital stay was finally almost over. You’d be coming home tomorrow, staying with the Camerons so you had the help.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. You were happy, but his behavior was confusing to you at the same time. “You’re being weirdly sweet,” you said with a teasing smile.

Rafe looked away from your eyes. “Yeah…well.”

The two of you sat with that silence for a while. You knew there was plenty he wasn’t saying, and you wondered if he would.

Rafe reached forward and traced a finger along your cheek, over your jaw line. The cuts and bruises on your face were mostly healed now, and you were endlessly grateful when they told you they didn’t expect any lasting scarring. His light touch sent a shiver through your body.

When Rafe finally spoke again, he sounded different than you had ever heard him. His voice was weak, broken. “Don’t do that to me again.”

Your face fell as you looked at him - really looked at him - and saw the pain hidden deep behind his blue eyes. Obviously you knew none of this was your fault, but you felt terrible for what you’d put your loved ones through all the same.

“I’m sorry-“ you began to say, but Rafe shook his head.

“Do you understand that I love you?” he said, his voice choked up as tears welled in those deep eyes. The words hit you like a physical blow, you felt yourself moving back as you looked him in the face. “I don’t give a fuck about Briana, or any other girl on this island compared to you. And it’s not just ‘we were together for a while and you’re the mother of my daughter so I’ll always love you’,” he continued, like the words were spilling out of his mouth faster than he could control. “No, like, I love you.”

He was looking you so intensely in the eyes that it took your breath away. You felt tears in your own eyes, falling down your cheeks before you could do anything about it. “Rafe…” you breathed out, you didn’t know what else to say. You weren’t even sure this wasn’t a dream.

“Maybe we could…maybe we could try again,” he said, the hope audible in his voice. “A…relationship?”

You let out a long shaky exhale. “I…” You searched your brain for the right words to say, searched your chest for how you really felt. “We…it’s never worked, Rafe, we never-“

“Do you love me?”

The question caught you completely off guard. “What?”

“Do you love me?” he repeated simply. “I told you how I felt. I need to know how you really feel.”

You swallowed. “I love you, Rafe,” you said, your voice small. “I’ve always loved you. But it’s still never worked for us.”

Rafe clasped both your smaller hands in his, being gentle with your cast. “I’m serious this time, baby. This is…things are different.” He held intense eye contact with you as he spoke, and you could see the genuine emotion swirling behind his eyes. “I’ve had a taste of what life would be like without you, and I don’t wanna go through that again.”

You had no control whatsoever as the tears started to fall down your face faster, a sob escaping from your throat. Rafe pulled you into the tightest gentle hug he could manage, his large hand combing through your smooth hair as you cried into his chest. He was a little panicked, he didn’t know if he had said something wrong to upset you. He didn’t want to make you sad anymore.

When you pulled back, Rafe wiped the tears from your face. He traced his thumb lightly over your bottom lip. His gaze flicked up to your eyes, back to your mouth, and then he was leaning in to press the softest kiss to your lips. When he broke the kiss and looked into your eyes again, he could see the mix of emotions swirling behind them. He wished he could read what you were thinking.

He grabbed your good hand with his own, intertwining your fingers. “You don’t have to decide anything now. You have plenty else to worry about. Just…think about it for me?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand in yours, which gave him some reassurance. You didn’t know what your decision would be, but you wanted to make sure you made the right one. For you, for Rafe, and for Iris.

“I love you,” you whispered to him.

His lips turned up in a smile. “I love you too.”

[stoshasaurus]

I DID IT !!! I p-ranked the first act of ultrakill for the first time, and made it to minos' boss fight!! :D

[rose-tinted-nostalgia]

.

[aleolusor]

When he allows himself the chance to take a more luxurious bath, Aventurine likes to let himself sliiide to the bottom of the tub and lay there for as long as he’s able before coming back up for a breath. It’s peaceful for him, to be submerged, drift away, and tune out the outside world for a moment.

[sinning-23]

Calling Them By Their Full Name

OPLA Headcannons! I thought htis was a funny little thing lol. Anyway enjoy

Warnings: slight mentions of nsfw topics but nothing too serious

Sorry for any spelling errors!

Luffy

-ohhhhh that did not sound like your usual happy, loving voice.

-he knows he fucked up and now he’s hiding from your wrath.

-“MONKEY D. LUFFY, GET YOUR ASS IN THIS KITCHEN. NOW.”

-you could hear a pen drop from how quiet the ship got

-ok so maybe he ate that super expensive, super special dessert you had been saving for a while now. And like, it was going to go bad! All he wanted was a little taste! Than a taste turned into accidentally eating the whole thing.

-He was gonna tell you, honest! But it had proven obvious you found out before he could. He seen you round the corner with RAGe on your face and tears in your eyes.

-"TRAITOR!" You yell, throwing a tired punch to his chest.

-“I’m sorry mami, I’ll find you another one. Promise.” He hums, peppering your face with kisses, squeezing your face between his palms when he did.

-There’s no way you could stay mad at him for long

Zoro

-whoa whoa whoa why are you so ANNNGRY

-hated when you call him by his full name like that, makes him feel like a child being reprimanded

-“RORONOA GODDAMN ZORO.” You boom, Nami’s jaw dropping at the sound. Even she could tell you were pissed

-he’s the sassiest mf alive so he’ll probably just be like, “who the hell are talking to woman?!”

-“You’re a real piece of work you know that??” You’re still yelling and he wastes no time rolling his eyes at you and grabbing you by your waist, the action shutting you up.

“Wanna stop yelling and be a big girl and tell me what’s wrong?” He teases, that stupid smirk you love falling over his features at your speechlessness.

-It’s not often you say his full make but when you do he makes sure you’ll never forget it that same night.

-“Say my name baby, real loud.” He groans, a hand around your throat to steady spent body as he slams back into you

Sanji

-I know thats not a cigarette i smell Vinsmoke Sanji."

-awe hell. Yout tone is deadly. he tried he damndest to stomp it out before you rounded the corner but nope.

-You never use his full name like that. Never.

-did he just get chills?

-"Of course not my love!" He lies throigh his teeth but before he can say anything ese you re lips are on his, you fist gripping the fabric of his shirt.

-He knew he was caught, the taste of tobacco mixing with your usual mint. You pull away, smoothing his shirt out with a warning smile.

-"Don’t lie to me again, I’ll always know when you do, Black Leg." You explain , taking the small cardboard box from his pocket and walking off.

-Even though it was ment as a threat, he couldn't help but feel hotter than ususal. God he loved it when you talked all serious to him.

Bonus: Mihawk

-You know better than to use his full name. Orr to even call him anything besides the usual endearing pet name.

-So when he hears his name called with nothing short of rage, hes trying to figure out who you think you’re talking to.

-"Dracule. Mihawk." You spit, holding the empty bottle in your hand

-Ok so your rage was warented cause he managed to drink the entire vintage bottle of wine you'd been saving...it wasn’t like it was on purpose!

-He doesn’t even bother to look up from his book, just barely giving you a slight glance when you were right in front of him, pointing to the bottle.

-"Id watch your tone darling." he warns, smirking at the way you purse your lips and turn away with a fierce attitude he'd be sure to deal with later.

-“Oh shove it up your ass Dracule.” You scoff, trying to quicken your pace but failing when he’s already behind you, his much larger hand holding your wrist as you yelp.

-His look says it all. You’re screwed.

-So now you’re sitting pretty, bent over and counting each time his hand meets the sore and slightly reddened flesh of your ass.

-“Now, what’s my name again darling?”

[happy74827]

One Call Away

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: During one of his "jobs," Deadpool gets a call from his favorite gal [GIF Creds: jdsheart]

WC: 1970

Category: Fluff, Major Comedy {TW: Deadpool’s Humor/Nonfiltered Personality}

This man is so hard to write. I’m always stressing the noggin when it comes to planning and plotting 😔

『••✎••』

"And away we go..."

One neck crack and a couple of hip twists later, he was off like Aladdin and his fucktoy carpet, scaling the building similarly to a chameleon on LSD.

The only thing that was missing was some epic music.

He'd been chasing this baddie around the city for almost two days now. Some big-shot mob boss with ties to Hydra, or the Mafia, or the Yakuza, or some other three-letter-acronym organization. It was hard to keep track of them all at this point. They were all the same, except for the name.

They all had their own agenda.

Kill him, keep him prisoner, pay him off...

Wade never cared enough to listen because it was always the same. He just got hired to do the dirty work, and the pay was good.

The killing was better.

This one, however, was particularly good at eluding him. He'd been trying to get his hands on this man for a few days now. It wasn't as though he was trying to be stealthy or anything, either. He'd walked right up to his front door, knocked, and was greeted with a spray of machine gun bullets.

So, the usual.

But then the guy ran and didn't stop. It was like the fucking Roadrunner met Sonic the Hedgehog, and they decided to fuck around and find out.

Wade was getting real sick and tired of being a Roadrunner, too. He had a reputation to uphold. He wasn't known as the Merc with the Mouth for nothing. He was supposed to be the one doing the running and the killing.

Not the other way around.

Finally, finally, he managed to reach the roof where the guy was currently taking cover behind a small brick shack. The sun was rising, but it was still dark, and there were a couple of floodlights shining on the rooftop. It made him think of the night he'd had that heart-to-heart with Blind Al, even though all she really wanted was for him to bring her some of that special brownie mix.

What a night that had been.

But anyway, this monologue is starting to get too long, and we should probably move things along, eh?

Right.

So, the baddie.

His name was something long and non-English.

Salvatore, or Santino, or Salvation... Whatever the fuck it was, it didn't really matter. What mattered was that it was time to make him dead.

He stepped around the corner and was met with a spray of bullets, all of which lodged themselves into his Kevlar vest.

"Oh, come on!" he yelled over the sound of the gunfire. "This is real leather, you know. I'm tired of all the offscreen sewing and shit."

When the spray finally ended, he took a moment to catch his breath.

"��ow," he whispered to himself.

"You shouldn't have followed me here," the man said.

"Yeah, whatever," Deadpool replied. "Look, I'll make this easy for you. You drop down and give me fifty, and I'll let you keep that hideous mustache you're sporting."

The man's eyes widened in surprise.

"It's not that bad, is it?"

"Yes, yes it is," Deadpool assured him. "You got a squirrel living in it or something?"

"It's just a little bit of gray, you dick," the man argued. "What about you? What's with the mask? Are you hiding a mustache under there, too, or something? Maybe some acne scars?"

Deadpool shook his head and stepped forward, his guns drawn.

"Don't come any closer!"

"You know, this would be much more intimidating if you didn't look like a cartoon mouse."

"Stop it with the mustache!"

"Alright, alright," Deadpool said. "Enough with the mustache. But what is it about your hairline? I can't put my finger on it."

The man sighed in exasperation and pulled out his pistol, aiming it right at Deadpool's face.

"Hey now, don't point that at me," Deadpool scolded him. "That's not a very nice thing to do."

He ignored him and pulled the trigger, a loud boom ringing out as the bullet fired. It whizzed by him but missed its mark.

"You really are a dick," He grumbled before aiming his gun right between the man's eyes. And he was going to shoot, honest.

He really was.

But then his phone rang, and he was well-reminded of the current song playing through his head.

I'm a buff baby that can dance like a man. I can shake-ah my fanny, I can shake-ah my can!

Needless to say, he was distracted.

He lowered his gun and looked down at his pocket, where his phone was still ringing and still vibrating against his leg.

"Shit, hold that thought," He said to the guy, and he holstered his gun.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing?!"

Deadpool put his finger up to shush him before pulling his phone out of his pocket to answer it.

If you're an evil witch, I’ll punch you for fu—

"Heyyyy," he said in a sing-songy voice, "you've reached the phone sex hotline. For kinks and fetishes, press one. For booty calls, press two. For your favorite mercenary, press three."

"Ey, pendejo—" His opponent started, but he cut him off by snapping and raising his finger.

"Cut it, Tuco Salamanca. Breaking Bad called and wants its meth-cooking mustache back."

"Wha-I-you-"

"Anyways, this is your favorite merc speaking. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

"Is this a bad time?"

Wade's eyes widened in shock, and his jaw dropped open when he heard her voice on the other end of the line.

"Baby girl! Is that you? Oh, how I've missed your voice. It's like hearing an angel, or an angelic chorus, or a whole bunch of angels, but you're the most important one. Like, the lead singer or something."

"I literally saw you last night." Your voice was always drenched with the most amazing kind of sarcasm, and he'd missed it.

"And?"

"It's only been a few hours."

"And?"

"That's a short amount of time."

"And?"

You sighed, but he knew you weren't really annoyed.

"Anyways, you sounded busy," you continued, "so I'll just let you go."

"What?! No! Don't hang up!" He shouted into the receiver. "I've only fiddled with my pistols! Nothing interesting is happening right now!"

"Your pistols, huh?" You asked a hint of mischief in your voice.

"Well, yeah. They're the most important part of the mission, you know."

In the corner of his eye, he could see his target making his way towards the edge of the building. Quickly and efficiently, without dropping his attention from his conversation with you, he lifted his gun and fired a shot at the man's knee.

"Ah, fuck!" the man screamed in pain. "My knee!"

"Hey! Language!" Deadpool scolded him. "The lady of the house is listening!"

"Lady of the- what the fuck?!"

"I said language, you mustachioed rat!"

"Mustachioed rat?" You asked.

"Sorry, babe," he replied. "You know how excited I get when Downtown Abbey is on."

“There’s gunshots in Downtown Abbey?"

"Gunshots? Oh, no, no. That was… uh, a car alarm. Yeah, the neighbor's car alarm was going off."

"Uh-huh," you said, not sounding very convinced. And, of course, that was right around the time the guy's gun went off again, this time hitting him square in the shoulder. It made the phone fall out of his hand and clatter onto the ground, but the call was still connected.

"Dammit!" He yelled, looking at the fresh blood dripping down his arm. "That's gonna take forever to heal!"

"Who are you talking to?" The man demanded, his gun still aimed at Deadpool's face. "You're working with someone?"

"Hey, now, I don't remember giving you permission to talk," Deadpool told him, holding his bloody arm up to his face. "Look, I've gotta call you back, babe. I know it's been so heartbreakingly long—"

"Again, only a few hours," you said.

"—but duty calls. Love you, bye."

"Love you, bye."

With that, the line disconnected.

"Ugh," he groaned, his heart aching for the loss of your sweet voice. "I miss her already."

"Ey," his opponent growled, drawing his attention. He started speaking in rapid-fire Spanish, which Deadpool didn't really understand, but he didn't have to. The guy was just ranting and raving.

"Alright, alright, chill," Deadpool said. "Just calm down. It’ll all be over soon, little buddy."

"I am not little! I am a giant!" The guy protested, and Wade could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "And I will not chill!"

"Well, can't argue with that, I guess," Deadpool said with a shrug, and he took aim. But before he could pull the trigger, the guy was running again.

"Hey, what did I tell you about running?!" He yelled, but his voice fell on deaf ears as the guy reached the ledge.

"I am a giant!"

"No, you're a giant asshat!"

"I will not be bested by some masked buffoon!"

"Buff? Me? Why, I never!"

"You're the biggest asshole I've ever met!"

"You know what? I am a big ass! A big, round, bubbly ass." He paused for a second. "Hey, what's your favorite flavor?"

"Fuck you, you red-clad imbecile!"

"You know, I'd ask you out to dinner first, but we're kinda past that now."

"Argh!"

"Alright, enough stalling," Deadpool said. "It's time to end this."

"Yes," the guy said, turning his gun back on Deadpool. "It is."

Of course, Deadpool being the smart-ass he was, he'd already taken a step to the side. As the bullet whizzed past him, he reached for his gun.

"Now, where did I put that thing? Oh, there it is."

He aimed the gun and fired, and the man fell back onto the ground. The bullet hit him right in the middle of his forehead, his blood splattering all over the concrete.

"Ha ha! Fatality. Deadpool wins!" He said, his voice taking on the deep, grounded tone of the narrator from Mortal Kombat. "Flawless Victory."

He stood over the body for a few seconds, reveling in his victory, before he felt the presence of another.

The gun on his right side got ripped from its holster, and the barrel was aimed back into his face, as it always seems to be.

But, he already sensed it was coming, so his fingers wrapped around his other and aimed that right in the golden spot… and let’s just say, The Golden Girls was a little less golden and a lot more crimson.

"Wow, this has got to be a record," He said as he bent down to stare at the new one’s anguish. "Two dead ugly mustaches in the same day. You can call me Sweeney Todd because shit… I just shaved you the fuck up."

He didn’t give the poor bastard a chance to even whimper before he fired another two shots into the man's head. All in all, this had been the easiest payday he'd had in a while.

He picked up his cell phone and slipped it back into its pocket before bending down and scooping up the mustache man's pistol.

"Ooh, lookie here, a nice, shiny new pistol," he said to himself. "Just what I've always wanted. Well, I don't actually need it. It's not like I have any other holes in my body, but you know what they say. The more the merrier."

He stuffed the gun in his holster and turned around, heading back the way he'd come.

"Time to get back to the good stuff," he said. "I have a date with my favorite girl."

He hopped up onto the ledge and looked down, his eyes locking on the window to his apartment.

And when he arrived, bloody and battered, you could only smile while holding up little ole Mary Puppins in all her drooling glory.

God, how he missed his girls.

[sttoru]

‘you finally got the results to your recent exams back — all which were passing grades. when breaking the happy news to your boyfriend, he comes up with a way to reward you for your hard work.’

☀︎｜tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). fluff & smut. kinda porn with plot, kinda not. soft dom satoru; vanilla, praise, dirty talk, cunnilingus, p in v -> unprotected, body worship kinda, spooning position, little bit of breast play, mention of premature ejaculation kinda, creampie, size difference, reader gets called ‘princess, baby, pretty, adorable’. reader wears a short skirt. not beta read because i’m tired.

“oh my god!” you almost drop your phone from the pure shock you just experienced. your hands shake as you look at the unexpected results reflected on the small screen.

satoru, who was minding his business in the kitchen, hurries into the bedroom the moment he hears your shriek. he was prepared to help you out with whatever had caused you to yell so loudly, though was surprisingly met with your beaming smile;

“oh, what got my princess so happy?” he asks with a grin of his own, stepping into the room. his gaze darts from the phone in your hand to your face and back again. satoru chuckles as you suddenly run up to hug him. he joyfully reincorporates the embrace; your happy mood being contagious.

you giggle and babble on about how you passed your two exams and how you ‘didn’t think you’d be able to attain such high grades’. your boyfriend hums and strokes your hair whilst you ramble, kissing the top of your head with a proud expression, “as expected of my smart little girl. i’m super proud of you.”

there goes the praise again — making your heart flutter in ways that no one else had done before. you sigh in content and bury your face into his chest. satoru pulls back after a moment, tenderly cupping your face so he could look into those pretty eyes of yours.

you’re his weakness. he knows you are — he’s always known you are, yet that adorable look on your face whenever you gaze up at him through your eyelashes never gets old.

that same look also makes him want to do unspeakable things to you; things that would have you crying from pure pleasure. you deserve to be shown what a true man would do for you out of love — what a true man like your lover would do to you for your own satisfaction and pleasure.

“i think my pretty girl deserves a reward for doing so well on her exams,” satoru whispers, slender fingers trailing from your jaw to your neck, brushing over your collar bone, “would you like that? a reward just f’you.”

you weren’t born yesterday. you knew exactly what he was indicating. you could tell by his loving yet lustful gaze, his fingers that sensually dragged along your skin and his tongue that darted out to subtly lick his lips. as if he was preparing to devour a five star meal.

which he was.

“f—ngh, satoru!”your legs were wrapped around his head, his mouth and tongue working their magic on your sopping cunt whilst his hands were holding you down by your hips. satoru hadn't wasted a single second after you agreed to his proposal. he instantly lifted your skirt up, pulled your panties down to your ankles and dived right between your legs.

your thighs were clamping down on his head—almost forcing him to continue pleasuring you. not that your lover minded; he'd gladly do this again and again if he could. satoru leaves sloppy kisses all over your pussy, drenching it in not only your own bodily fluids, but his own saliva as well.

“mm, a little needy, aren't ya?” he mutters whilst softly kissing up and down your slit. he was admiring both the sight and the noises — your back arching, hips stuttering and voice shaking with need. the older man certainly did enjoy the view of your cute little face contorting with pleasure each time the top of his tongue teased your clit, “yeah, c'mon - let me see your face while i eat you out.”

you hesitated, however eventually removed your hands that tried (and failed) to hide your flustered expression. satoru lets out an almost inaudible whine at the revelation; his cock begging to be freed from its confines. he wanted to fuck you into oblivion, but today was your day. he longed to satisfy your own desires first.

satoru was nasty with it too. the unmistakeable, erotic and wet noises of him slurping up your juices mingle with your moans and whines. the white locks of his hair brush against the insides of your thighs and right above your clit—tickling you in all the right ways and adding to the pleasure you were receiving.

“fuck,” the older man curses under his breath and the warmth against your pussy makes your lower body twitch. his big hands squeeze around your hips, silently warning you to stay still so he could properly enjoy you, “you're gonna make me cum before i can make you finish.”

his words were true. satoru could get off from simply watching and hearing his girl enjoy herself. he has no shame in admitting that fact; he can't help it when you’re this incredibly gorgeous. he grinds his crotch against the soft mattress whilst his mouth continues to eat you out in a painfully slow yet tender manner.

“t-toru, g'nna cum.” you whimper and try to grind your cunt against his tongue in search for that last push that would send you over the edge. your high-pitched voice sounding so extremely whiny sealed the deal for your boyfriend. he pulls his head away from your tingling cunt - which is a second away from reaching its orgasm - and sits up on his knees.

satoru smirks once he hears your mumbled complaints. one large hand settles on top of your head and gives your scalp a few relaxing rubs whilst the other hastily undoes the zipper of his pants. he tilts his head to the right, glancing down at your squirming form with a lopsided grin, “d’ya want another treat, princess?”

of course, you nod. you were aching for that release that'd been building up in your lower stomach— needing to reach that long awaited climax. your eyes follow satoru's movements as he pulls his pants down. again, as painfully slow as possible.

“just a nod? tha’s all i get?” your partner pouts, nonchalantly revealing his lengthy cock for you to feast your eyes upon. he sighs dramatically before trailing two slender fingers down to your cunt, gathering your slick and using it to coat his tip. the pre-cum mixes with your own fluids and the erotic sight makes your mouth water, “i know for sure that my smart little girl can use her big words to get what she wants — let me hear ‘em.”

whilst you gather your thoughts and words, satoru lays down behind you, helping your body onto its right side. you’re facing the wall and thus couldn’t see that cocky expression he had on. his arms pull your back flush against his chest, positioning your hips the right way and lifting one of your legs up properly.

“p-please, i need to have you inside me. can’t wait any longer, ‘toru.” you manage to beg in the end. the warmth radiating from your lover’s body from behind you only increases your sinful craving. he teases you by kissing your nape whilst his hands get rid of your top—fingers then immediately fondling your tits.

his husky voice whispers a 'good girl' in your ear and that’s all you got as an answer before you felt his cockhead prod at your entrance. satoru hisses at just the slightest of contact—not sure if he could last long this time. he feels like he will explode the moment his tip glides inside your gaping hole.

“so beautiful, can’t believe how lucky i got.” the white-haired man grunts as his lips refuse to leave your skin. from your neck to your shoulders and upper arms — he didn't leave a single inch uncovered. it was almost tortureous: the way he grinded his tip against your pussy as he touches the rest of your body with his hands and mouth.

you whine and rub your hips back in the same rhythm. you were indirectly begging him to put it in already and satoru took notice of it. since you had begged once before, he won't coax you into doing it again.

with a light moan, he slides his throbbing cock all the way up the tight space. the squeal you let out at the sensation of being stretched out to your maximum capacity, made satoru murmur a few more words of praise in your ear.

“you're doing so good - taking me so well,” his voice was smooth like honey, the same goes for his soft thrusts. the way your pussy grips onto his cock makes him see stars. your boyfriend never gets tired of making love to you because the hypnotising feeling of being inside you doesn't ever get old. it feels like the first time he had stuffed you full of his cock over and over again.

you were feeling light-headed by now; your eyes rolling back as your mouth formed an 'o'-shape—the cockdrunk look satoru loves to see on you. the squelshy 'flop flop flop' noises echo throughout the entire room with every deep thrust of his hips against the plump flesh of your ass.

satoru's long fingers go from playing with your nipples to groping your hips and ass. his eyes gaze downwards, watching as the fat of your bottom ripples after his pace quickens. you were trying your best to keep up, but the overstimulation of all your senses made it hard to match your movements to his.

“aht aht. you've worked hard enough on your exams already, princess. just lay back and allow me to do everything.” satoru (jokingly) scolds you. this was your reward and he didn't want you putting in any effort if your body couldn’t handle it. he wants you to relax like you deserve after a stressful period of exams and assignments. he’ll happily do all the work instead.

“oh, mmh! too good — fuck!” you mewl. your fingers curl around the bedsheets that moved back and forth with your bodies. a bigger hand settles on top of yours — intertwining your fingers and holding onto them tightly. you could feel satoru smiling against the skin of your shoulder as he kisses it, absolutely enjoying your little reactions to his thrusts.

“yeah? am i doing well?” he asks in a teasing tone. he didn’t have to ask that question; he knows he’s doing well judging purely by your bodily reactions. your back arches and your limbs shake uncontrollably, “am i pleasing my baby well enough?”

you can only moan out a couple ‘yes’’s, but that is enough of a confirmation. the older man is on cloud nine as he drags his thick cock in and out of your desperate cunt. every time he pulls out he can feel your pussy try to swallow him back in — it drove him nuts.

“i love how you look whilst i stuff you full of my cock. so innocent, yet so.. lewd at the same time.” satoru comments through another groan, the hand on your hip holding your body still so he could fuck his dick deeper into you. the tip of his cock nearly reaches your cervix due to the angles he uses to move inside you.

your long-awaited and much deserved orgasm was right around the corner. your moans increase in frequency and volume which was enough of a sign for satoru to increase the pleasure. his fingers trail down your hips and to the center between your open legs—thumb putting pressure on your clit.

the extra stimulation has got you biting into the pillow beneath your head, your lower body writhing around as your lover rubs the small bundle of nerves in circles and from side to side. his hand moves fast—its mission being to help you reach that intense orgasm you were chasing after.

satoru is feeling it himself as well. his cock aches and twitches as it gets ready to drain its balls inside your pussy, “cum with me baby—fuck—cum on my cock whilst i dump my load all the way into your tight little cunt.”

that was all the encouragement you needed. your eyes roll back and your body convulses as the waves of pleasure come crashing down all at once. you could feel satoru’s hips desperately push against your ass, filling you completely with both his dick and hot spurts of cum. you could feel the warm essence leavings its evidence in your womb.

the bedsheets underneath your two bodies was drenched in your slick after you calmed down a bit. your boyfriend continues to place comforting kisses all over your naked body, trying to show his appreciation for you in all the ways he could.

“you did so well. you deserved this, princess.” satoru utters softly, the hair clinging onto his forehead. he gently pulls his soft cock out after a minute of making sure that every drop of his cum stayed inside of your cunt. he loves the feeling of fulfilment that it gives him — loves the fact that he filled his girl to the brim.

you smile weakly. you were fucked out: completely and utterly. it felt good and you were satisfied with your reward. it even gave you enough motivation to do well on future exams, “thanks, ‘toru. ‘m feeling sleepy though.”

satoru snickers. you were always so adorable and vulnerable around him after the two of you partake in such activities. he loves it and it makes him want to take care of you.

“you deserve plenty of rest, so go ahead.” your lover smiles gently, kissing the top of your head after you close your eyes. one of his hands hold yours whilst the other rubs your side soothingly, “i won't leave. i'll stay right here with you whilst you sleep. i promise."

satoru knew you needed to hear those words in your vulnerable state. and surely enough, you smile once more and nod. your body falls asleep the moment his strong arms pull you into a loving hug.

his lips attach to your ear in the form a chaste peck. his smooth voice was the last thing you heard as you faded into an unconscious state;

“i love you so much.”

🏷️: @marimogf @osaemu @screampied @sukuette @sachiyoh @giannitaa @morinuu

[ynsbarbbb]

love me harder | m. verstappen

hypothesis - max is on the brink of losing you. however, after a fatal accident…

pairing - max verstappen x fem!driver!reader

[fic is inspired by “love me harder” by ariana grande ft. the weeknd

“baby, in the moment, you’ll know this is, something bigger than us and beyond bliss”

“could you just look at me?” you yelled as max just kept walking a few steps ahead of you.

“can’t. race is about to start.”

stepping into a quicker pace you place yourself in front of max and the garage door, “when was the last time you told me you loved me?”

your eyes searched his face, desperately trying to find a glimpse of the max that you knew, the max you fell in love with, the max you married. the hand you placed on his chest, you could feel the steady rhythmic thump of his heart.

“you really want to do this now?”

“yes! i never see you anymore!”

max scoffed, eyes rolling as he looked back down at his phone, “sorry that i’m busy.”

your hand fell back to your side, “i’m busy too max, yet i still try.”

he nodded his head, eyes not lifting from the rectangular square. you sighed, your hands landing on your hips. is this what you’ve become now?

“is our marriage still worth fighting for, max?”

he looked up. eyes piercing through yours. you cannot believe the words just left your mouth, but it felt relieving to finally utter the words that has been haunting you for weeks.

“i’m not doing this with you right now, y/n,” max steps around you, “good luck with your race.”

~~

it was a millisecond.

you missed the turn by a millisecond and hamilton came crashing into you, sending your right wing and two tires flying. the car skidding across the track and landed upside down.

the force of the impact shoved your head against the steering wheel, hard, bouncing back against the seat.

damage had been done. to you and your car.

to lewis’ as well.

unbeknownst to max, who was in the lead, adrenaline coursing though his veins at the thought of his fourth podium for the season.

he was thriving, the car succumbing to his every command. the engine roaring sending shivers throughout his whole body.

the grin on his face turned devilish. he’s so close.

“max,” christians voice in his ears broke his train of thought, but his eyes never once lost sight of the track in front of him.

“the car’s doing great, no need to worry. podium is secure,” max declared excitingly. he took the turn, groaning at the strain it took on his body.

“though, sainz is on my tail the whole fucking time.”

christian sighed, not at all what max had expected, but he couldn’t be bothered by his team principal’s pms at the moment.

“max, there was a crash.”

another turn, another groan.

sainz could be spotted in max’ peripheral vision. he pushed the car harder, engine roaring, sending max flying away from carlos.

“who crashed?” he asked as he fiddled with the buttons on the wheel, checking if everything is still steady. he has at least seven more laps to go.

“y/n.”

dead silent.

heavy thick as your name registered in his mind. the grin that has been on his face had been wiped down. his lips sticking to his teeth.

“max?” christian asked, waiting a few moments. there was no response from the dutch.

he felt as if his body went numb, limb for limb. his arms felt wonky - not like the grip he had on the wheel mere moments ago. his breathing became shallow, his lungs struggling to capture enough oxygen, his brain malfunctioning.

next thing he knew he was crashing into sandbags.

the impact knocking sense back into him. sand dust flying everywhere.

“max!” christian exclaimed, “are you injured?”

“how’s she? is she alive?” max frantically asked. you didn’t have a choice - you had to be alright. you couldn’t be hurt, max would loose his head if you where. who crashed into you? how hard was the impact?

max got out of the car, “christian, fucking answer me!”

the line was silent for a couple of moments, “she’s stable. unconscious, but stable. no further news yet. she has been rushed to the ER.”

cars blasted past him, deafening noise drumming his ears.

“i need to get to her.”

“max, the race -“

“fuck the race, that’s my fucking wife!”

~

the doors of the ER bursted open, a very sweaty, and breathless max stood there, his eyes frantically looking around for anyone who could assist him.

he still had his suit on, christian hot on his trail.

“y/n, i need to know where y/n verstappen is,” he asked, accent thick as he slapped his hands on the receptionist desk.

she looked up at him, “any relation?”

max scoffed, “my wife.”

her fingers made quick work on the keyboard, “your wife is in surgery.”

max’ shoulders slumped and christian took hold of it, shooting a quick thanks to the nurse and led him in another direction. he swiped his hands though his hair, pulling at it, feeling his frustration grow and bubble at the bottom of his throat.

he could scream.

max paced the hallway, up and down. maybe minutes - maybe hours. he didn’t know. all he did know was that he’s staying.

why didn’t he tell you he loved you. with every fibre of his being he loved you. he craved you, constantly. the thought of you was all that he needed to survive - but knowing that you were his wife, made him whole.

you were the person who stood by him whilst he was working through his troubles with his father. on the nights when fear surrounded him, the comforting hand of you, his wife, brought him peace. on the days when he was on his happiest, it was on the days he spent with you.

you made him. you showed him to be max verstappen.

his wife.

~~

news spread around the paddock, like a wild fire. sky sport tv airing out to fans and viewers to keep you in their prayers and thoughts.

some of your and max’ closest friends took off straight away to the hospital, supporting max even though he didn’t even acknowledge them.

they were still there.

an apology from lewis was sent out world wide, and he even made an appearance to max, but the dutch only glared at him, taking hold of his collar, making his friends jump and take hold of max.

“if she doesn’t make it out of here, you’ll regret ever setting foot on a paddock again. i’ll kill you.”

his voice was icy as he spat the words at lewis, baring his teeth. daniel stepped in between the two and pushed max back by his chest.

max’ eyes never left lewis’ retreating from.

~~

“verstappen, y/n.”

max was in front of the doctor in a second, his eyes pleading his for good news. the doctor smiled at him and gave him what he was searching for.

“she’s asleep, but she’s an extreme fighter. you’ve got no worries, mr verstappen.”

he swore he could cry.

the doctor told him the room you were in and max wasted no time rushing towards it.

he searched the numbers above the doors for room one-o-one. his number. a bit of pride bursting in his chest, fate really had put you two together.

max stepped into the room and his heart broke.

machines connected to your heart, the beeping sound being the only indication that you are in fact alive. various cuts and bruises formed along your face. a neck brace adorned. oxygen mask on your beautiful face.

max stifled a sob as he crashed into a seat near your bed, scooting closer and taking hold of your hand. his thumb drawing patterns on your knuckles.

even in your unconscious mind your body still knew that it was your max, the heart monitor speeding up slightly.

it caused him to chuckle, “mijn schatje, mijn alles, i am so sorry. this should’ve never happened to you.”

he squeezed your palm, pressing a tender kiss to the flesh, “fight, stay strong for me, yeah? so that i can love you right this time.”

~~

a gentle knock at the door roused max from his sleep. his hand was still tucked in yours.

max turned towards the door, lando stood there.

a soft smile on his face with a gym bag in his hand, “mate, i brought you some clothes - the suit can not be comfortable.”

he chuckled and motioned for his muppet friend to come in. lando placed the bag by the door and walked closer to stand next to max. he placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“how’s the missus?”

max looked at you, a lump the size of a bull frog lodged itself in his throat, “she’s good, doc said she’s a real fighter.”

“she is a verstappen, ey?” lando nudged max’ shoulder who just chuckled in response. he felt guilty, ashamed, contrast to who he was. he shouldn’t have had to treat his wife like shit. you just wanted to know he loves you.

“look, mate, don’t beat yourself up about what happend, see this as a new beginning.”

max nodded, “she just wanted me to say that i love her. shit, i should’ve just said it to her. the crash-“

“is not your fault, you couldn’t have possibly predicted an accident to happen.”

he shook his head and looked at the bag by the door, “i’m going to change, would you mind maybe staying here. i don’t want to leave her alone.”

“yeah, of course mate.”

~~

two weeks later

“don’t strain yourself so much, schat,” max’ voice was gentle as he looked at your from his seat on the couch. within mere moments he stood in front of you, large palms pressed to your hips to help you walk the last few remaining steps.

this last couple of weeks changed. your marriage changed. max changed.

he was waiting on you hand and foot, even though you have told him multiple times that certain things you can do on your own, he still insisted.

the one noticeable change for yourself and everyone surrounding you was the fact that max openly, whenever he got the chance told you he loved you.

whether it be when you’re making dinner, doing dishes, walking beside him on the paddock - he’d say he loves you with a kiss pressed to your temple. it was and still is absolute bliss.

your recovery went by fast, splendid as your doctor had put it. with time and patience, he said, you’d be back on the track in no time.

when your socked feet took the last step, max couldn’t help the face splitting grin that adorned his face.

“look at you go, speedy,” he smiled as he took hold of your head and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. speedy. the nickname max had dubbed you the moment you overtook him when you first met.

speedy. the nickname max had dubbed you the moment you stole his heart.

speedy. the nickname max had used in his vows the moment you took his last name.

max made sure that you didn’t strain yourself too much in the recovery process, he treated you like you were his fine china, bubble wrapping your heart and by God, swearing that he’d never let his actions and words ever hurt you again.

he poured so much love into you. you practically glowed in comparison to when the argument had occurred.

his love.

his wife.

max made sure you knew how much he adored you, loved you, craved you.

“ik hou van je, mijn schat.”

and you knew he did.

fin.

[strawberrynull]

please can you write niki with a noona gf !! and he tries his hardest to impress her and let her see him as a big boy now ^.^

fluff or suggestive, i dont mind ❤️❤️ thankss

──⯎ ˙ 💋 ̟ noona!

엔하이픈 | Enhypen | Nishimura Riki

──Pairing: bf!niki x afab!reader

──Genre: fluff, angst

──Synopsis: Poor Niki despises being treated like a baby by his girlfriend who is only slightly older than him. He decides to try to prove to her that hes not a baby

──Warnings: cursing, established relationship, kissing, making out, skinship, hickeys

──A/N: guys im working on making a taglist so if u wanna be added pls message me or comment or sum so ik to add you

masterlist

"Hi baby. How was your day?" you ask your boyfriend, reaching up to cup his cheeks as you kiss his forehead. Niki's smile faded slightly upon hearing your name for him. Truthfully, calling him baby made him feel like a baby. Babe was fine but calling him baby just seemed to upset him. Sometimes you would take it a step further just to make him more upset by calling him 'baby boy' which was so much worse.

"It was uh... fine I guess." He shrugged, clenching his teeth slightly when you ran your fingers through his dark hair. You were already treating him like a fragile being as soon as he had gotten home. This severely pissed him off. Not to the extent that he would get mad at you though. He had never yelled at you or anything like that. Usually when he was mad he would just walk away and sulk.

"You seem a little out of it. Did something happen?" you asked genuinely, sticking your bottom lip out to form a small pout.

"Just tired." Niki mummbled briefly, not stopping to look at you. He slipped out of your embrace and made his way to sit on the couch. You followed him to the living room of your shared apartment. His expression and demeanor told you to fuck off but sometimes you didn't know when to stop. You took a seat next to him so you could continue to run your fingers through his dark locks. He groaned in annoyance, jerking his head away from you.

"Yah, why are you so cranky? Got a stick up your ass or sum'?" You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest with a scowl.

Niki really did like when you played with his hair. Though, right now he had to resist it. He had to get you to realize he didn't want to be treated like a little baby. He wanted to be treated like an adult. He wanted you to think of him as your super hot boyfriend instead of your baby boy. It was no easy task trying to look all tough in front of you when you were so sweet to Niki.

In a sudden swift move, Niki stood from the couch and turned to go to his room. You reached a hand out to attempt to stop him but it was pointless. He had already made up his mind to leave. There was no stopping him once his mind was made.

"Yah! Where do you think you're going?" you yelled to him, hoping he would stop and come back. Though you knew he wouldn't.

Your boyfriend stopped with a heavy sigh. He turned around to face you. "I don't want to be treated like a baby by you."

"But Ki, you're myyyyyy baby~" you coo, clearly not making the situation any better as Niki shuts the door to his bedroom. You hear a small click and you know he's locked the door too. You throw your head back in frustration eliciting a long sigh.

After a while you start to worry that your boyfriend is genuinely mad. 20 had passed by and he has yet to leave his room. Neither have you heard any noise from his room. You grumble as you push yourself off the couch and trudge over to his bedroom door. Knocking softly, you press an ear to the door. When you hear nothing on the other side, you decide to knock again. This time you hear shuffling which you assume is Niki getting up from his bed. But instead of him opening the door, you hear his gaming chair squeak.

"Come on. You know I don't actually think you're a baby, Riki." You groan, sitting down against his door. You cross your arms over your chest. "Please come back out."

Nothing but silence is heard from his room. You know damn well that he's not actually playing games and ignoring you. When he's mad, he'll pretend to be busy but he'll really just sit there trying to resist coming out of his room to kiss you.

"Say that you won't treat me like a baby anymore." you can tell by the sound of his voice that he's pouting. It makes you giggle.

"Is that all its going to take to get you to come out of your room?"

"You have to promise!" He yells back. You begin to feel bad. You can tell that he's serious that he doesn't want to be treated like a baby. He's so cute and pretty though that sometimes you can't help it. Sometimes you have to give things up for the greater good. And in this case, your boyfriend wasn't coming back out unless you gave up the baby-talk and pampering.

"Alright, Niki, I promise. I'll stop treating you like a baby." Upon hearing your promise, the door opens slightly. You look up to see your pretty boyfriend. He looks down at your sitting figure with a slight pout. Still so cute.

"Hi pretty boy." You stand from your spot on the floor. Niki opens the door wider and stands to the side, signaling for you to come in. You do just that. You step into his room which was dark from the lights being off and the windows being covered by the curtains.

Once you're fully inside the room, the door shuts behind you. Niki's hands find their way to your hips and he pushes you until your back hits the door. Heat rises to your cheeks when you realize why he's acting this way. He really does want to be treated like an adult.

He brought a hand up to cup your cheek before crashing his lips onto yours. You give a muffled gasp at his sudden action. Your hands quickly found the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. Your lips seemed to mold together perfectly as if the two of you were made for each other. It may seem like he's being unnecessarily rough in him movements but his kisses are gentle as his thumb rubs circles on your cheek. Your heart flutters at the softness of his touch. You know that he could never bring himself to be rough with you.

Though, he still didn't seem satisfied. The hand that was once on your waist had snaked to the small of your back. He pulled you toward him until your bodies were flush against each other. His lips moved down to kiss your neck, setting warmth to every part of your skin he touches. Your fingers played with his hair while he bit the soft skin of your neck then soothed the mark with his tongue. Unbeknownst to you, he was melting under your touch even more than you, feeling you play with his hair. Of course he was whipped for you. He continued to leave marks on your neck and shoulders until he was satisfied with his work. He pulled away to look at you like you were like his own personal canvas.

"Ki, I-"

"I told you not to treat me like a baby." He deadpanned with a cold harsh glare as his fingers held your chin. His face moved close to yours, his lips hovering next to your ear. His voice caused a chill to run down your spine. "I'm not going to let that happen again, yeah?"

His fingers slid down to wrap around your throat, squeezing gently. You gasped slightly at his change in attitude. He had never once acted this way. Every new action was a surprise to you. His lips found themselves back on yours like a magnet. The pressure on your throat made your head spin. Niki could tell he was getting the reaction he wanted. It made his mind fuzzy seeing you like this.

Niki removed his lips from yours which were now swollen and red. He released his grip on your throat and brought a finger up to swipe your bottom lip. He chucked watching you gasp for air.

"Am I still a baby to you?" he asked, causing you to shake your head frantically. As cute as he was, you had to admit, he was so ungodly hot too. And, god, was that hot. "Good." Niki turned and walked away from you, leaving you confused.

"Niki, what was that-"

"Go away, I'm embarrassed." he whined, plopping onto the bed and throwing a blanket over himself and hiding his face. You burst out in a fit of laughter. He really was too adorable. "Shut up!" He sat up wielding a pillow which he threw full force at you, sending you landing on your ass. You sat on the floor laughing at how cute your boyfriend was.

© strawberrynull, 2024. Do not copy my work. Please DM for permission before translating or reuploading. Thank You

[evie-sturns]

embarrassment- Chris Sturniolo

summary: when you and your best friend chris, get caught hooking up in the kitchen by his brothers, nick and matt, it results in an argument with nick.

contains: fwb!chris, smut, caught fucking, crying, angst, embarrasment.

---------------------------------------—————————

nick always made it clear that he couldn't be friends with someone who liked one of his brothers. little did he know i didn't just like chris, i was fucking him everytime we had the chance

11:43pm

matt and nick went to bed 45 minutes ago, i've been lying around in the kitchen with chris for a couple of minutes. theres been tension between him and i since the early morning, both desperate to be fucking eachother.

chris walks over to me, hes wearing nothing but sweatpants, a clear dick print on his sweatpants. i place my phone down on the countertop,

he cups my face, "i see you looking at me like that." chris starts, his voice low and breathy

"brushing up against my dick?" chris states, my cheeks flush

"you wouldn't want nick to see that. he'd be very.. very.. upset." his voice is seductive, he knows what we do is risky.

i shake my head while sinking my top teeth into my bottom lip, "sorry." i mutter, looking chris in his eyes.

he grabs my ass, lifting me up onto the counter top. he shimmy's my pyjama shorts down my bare legs, discarding them on the floor.

chris's cold hands yank down the neckline of my tank top, my tits falling out.

"it's- it's too risky, nick and matt are just down the hallway." i pout,

"you like it though, thats why you tease me around them." chris instantly replies.

that silences me.

chris yanks down his sweatpants, his erection instantly springing out "no boxers again? thought 'ya learnt your lesson last time." i smile, chris leans towards me, whispering right under my ear

"don't make a fucking sound, don't wanna hear you."

i nod, chris lines himself up with me, pushing his tip just inside of me.

the stretch always burns, chris is big. "it's too big- fuck- ow." i whine softly.

"you can take it, i know you can." he whispers, reaching out a hand for me to hold. i grab his hand, gripping it for dear life as chris bottoms out.

"gonna move now okay?" chris mumbles, "o-okay okay." i repeat, wrapping my legs around his waist.

chris starts to thrust in and out of me, i let my head flop down onto chris's shoulder, muffling my noises from his bare skin.

i shift on the countertop with each thrust, "you got it, good girl taking me so well." chris speaks quietly, holding the back of my head as he continues to pound in and out of me

i flop back, letting my hands support me behind me on the counter, arching my back as i hold back all noises, small moans still falling from my mouth.

"what. the. FUCK."

chris and i's head snap to the side, nick and matt are standing there, their faces pale.

chris instantly pulls my tanktop up, covering my bare chest before anything. he pulls out and yanks up his pants and stands infront of me.

"i-" chris starts, but gets cut off by nicks voice

"i cant believe this, get the fuck out of my house y/n!" nick yells, pointing towards the door.

i reach down and grab my shorts, yanking them up and jumping off the countertop and running over to nick. my breathing is heavy, i feel physically sick.

"get away from me!?" nick looks down at me with disgust, i turn to matt

"don't look at me, that was gross." matt says, matt never gets angry at me.

matt treats me like a little sister, he stands up for me when nick blows up, i can't name a time when we've fought.

i look back at chris, who looks fucking terrified.

"please- please let me talk to you matt" i plead, my lip trembling and my face burning from embarrasment.

"no, no i'm not dealing with this right now im fucking tired y/n." matt raises his voice at me,

"fuck, off! get out of this house?" nick shouts, i look back at chris before grabbing my phone,

i walk out of the house and run towards my car, tears streaming down my face.

i swing open the door to my car which is in their driveway, and just jump in, not stable enough to drive right now.

i sob into my hands, i've possibly just lost 3 of my closest friends.

"no- no no!" i panic,

suddenly the door to the passenger side swings open, chris leaps in.

my head snaps up to look at chris, "don't cry, please dont cry we will fix this, i promise." chris's voice is shaky, equally as shocked as i am

"nick and matt hate me- i'm so sorry chris" i sob, chris leans over the center console and wraps his arms around me.

"don't apologise sweetheart." chris whispers into my hair.

"come, come on into the back" he says, my eyebrows twist

"im not fucking you right now chris!" i yell,

chris places a hand on my shoulder "no-! no not to fuck just so we can talk with space" he says frantically.

"oh." i sniffle, crawling into the backseat.

chris jumps into the backseat with me, pulling me onto his lap before starting.

"you've known us, for what, 8 years? one slip up with nick isn't gonna ruin 8 years of friendship, and i'm promising you that." he speaks softly, running his hands through my hair.

"i know nick and matt better than anyone, and they won't let you go that easily yeah?"

"we have two options here okay? the first one is we could go back inside and i'll get them to talk to us, we can talk it out and whatever happens, happens." chris states, his tone calm.

"or... you go home for the night, just tonight back at you're apartment and think over what you want to say, then come back tomorrow morning when nick's cooled down."

i wipe my eyes on chris's chest before giving my awnser.

"i think.. i want to stay in the car for a few minutes then go talk to them." i sniff,

"okay." chris replies.

"what are we gonna do chris? y'know are we gonna stop..?" my voice wobbles.

"we will figure that out after talking with nick and matt yeah?" chris breathes.

we sit in silence for a couple minutes, i copy chris's breathing to calm myself down until my tears slowly come to a halt.

"you ready?" he asks, i nod before shifting off chris's lap. i take a grip on the door handle and step back out onto the sturniolo's driveway, the cold night hair hits me hard due to the fact its now past midnight.

im scared to say the least, nick's told me so many times that i can't like his brothers romantically. i broke his trust.

chris follows close behind me as i walk up the steps on the porch.

the warm light from the inside of the house fills my vision while i step foot indoors.

"i'll wait.. in here." chris whispers, sitting down on the couch by the door.

i drag myself down the corridor, i stop at matt's room realising that he'll be the easiest to talk to.

i slowly creak open his door, he's sat on his bed, resting his back against the headboard.

"matt..?" i say softly, my voice can't get any louder.

he looks up at me with a small hum.

"pl-please come into nicks room i need to speak to you guys." i squeeze out, matt nods silently.

i walk out of matts doorway into nicks, just opposite matts room.

i knock softly on the white wood of nicks room. "what." i hear him say blankly,

i open his door and his face drops when he sees me, "please fuck off" he mumbles, "nick come on, i need to talk." i sigh.

"why aren't you on chris's dick right now, unexpected from you." nick bites back

“stop!” my voice wobbles as i attempt to i raise it. matt shortly walks in nicks room aswell, sitting down on the bed next to him.

“can we talk like fucking adults?” matt mutters, i nod and my gaze shifts towards matt.

i carefully sit down on the end of the bed, facing the two brothers in silence

“are you ‘gonna fucking speak or do i have to call in chris to make you more comfortable cause CLEARLY you two are very comfortable with each other.” nick mocks,

i throw my head into my hands in frustration,

“nick look, i’m so sorry i know it was wrong.” i start,

“i’m going to tell you everything because you deserve to know, i’ve already broke your trust enough and i’m not afraid to literally do anything to gain it back, because i love you guys so much and- i really don’t want to loose what we have over something like this.” i start to ramble, something i do when i get nervous

nick just nods along with matt.

“i’m not going to go into detail, but around 2 months ago chris and i fucked it was.. unexpected to say the least but i liked it.”

“oh spare me.” nick interrupts me,

“no- just let me speak nicolas! then the next week we.. uh, fucked and we decided to be friends with benefits. i really like your brother.” i confess shyly,

“i didn’t know how to tell you because i knew you would totally freak out— which i understand but i was scared to tell you nick because you’re my best friend.”

“we’ve been sneaking around for a couple weeks now and every time i feel guilty, because i love you and matt so much and i hate hiding shit from you.” i sniff, feeling myself tear up again.

“look you’ve got 2 options, you keep up this fucking friends with benefits with my triplet brother and stop coming round here, or you confess your new found love for him and actually date him, because i’m not putting up with you guys fucking in my house.” nick states angrily

“i’ll confess to him i just- i just really don’t want to loose you two and i made a big mistake.” my voice cracks into a loud sob, worry floods over matt’s face.

matt leans foward and wraps his arms around me, tugging me towards him.

“i’m so sorry.” i cry into matt’s shirt, “you’re okay.” matt rubs my back, his head shifts towards nick.

“i hope you know, if you two become something tonight don’t expect me to be ecstatic.” nick says, his tone more soft.

“you should go tell chris.” matt whispers into me hair, i nod and break away from the hug.

i swing my legs over the bed and stand up, i walk out of the bedroom down the corridor

i swing a left into the living room where chris is sitting spread across the couch

“hey- you okay? how’d it go?” chris asks, putting his phone down on his lap and looking up at me with doe eyes

i sit down next to him and cross my legs, “chris i need to tell you something.” i state, looking over at him

“anything, yeah?” chris replies with a soft smile.

“promise not to be mad?” i say softly

“i would never be mad at you, you know that” chris whispers

“i really really like you chris, and i have for ages and i don’t want to be friends, i want to be more.” i say

“you do?” chris asks, his eyes wide and cheeks flushes

“yeah a lot.” i shy, wiping my eyes.

chris grabs my jaw, pulling me into a delicate kiss.

as much as chris and i have fucked we’ve never kissed, not wanting to push the “friends with benefits”

i kiss him back, swinging my legs over his body straddling him. i tug lightly on his bottom lip with my teeth, smiling into his lips.

we slowly pull away, locking eyes with eachother.

“can i be your boyfriend?” chris laughs softly,

“please.” i whisper.

-

after chatting with chris on the couch for an hour about all the times we apparently ‘made it obvious’ we liked each other,

“i gotta tell nick, he told me to do this with matt.” i smile at chris, jumping off of chris lap and jogging down the hallway.

i swing open the door to nicks room, trying to conceal my excitement.

nick looks up at me with a small smile “yes..” he drags out.

“chris is my boyfriend.” i whisper, nick smiles widely along with matt.

“promise no more fucking on my countertop now?” nick laughs.

“pinky promise.” i say leaping onto the bed and locking nick and i’s pinky’s

“for the record i’m happy for you too” matt grins, i wrap my arms around matt.

“i’m sorry again for earlier, it was just heat of the moment.” i sigh,

“yeah only had to rinse my eyes 76 times.” nick scoffs,

“i’m sorry!!!” i laugh, slapping nick lightly

————-

taglist:

@luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @recklessmatt @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @ecilphttlunar @bitchydragonparadise @thematthewlover r @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @chrisgetsmewetterxo @mattsonly @justalittle47 @mattsturnioloisbae @sunsetsturniolos @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz

[mattybsgroupie]

mine | matt sturniolo

contents: cursing; fighting; (kinda) toxic relationship; handjob (m receiving); oral (f receiving); use of “y/n”; lowkey sub!matt

- ♡ -

as we arrived at his house, i slammed the door shut behind me. “can you stop being an asshole?” i yelled, getting closer to him.

“yes? if you stop acting like a fucking whore” matt said, raising his voice at me.

“shut up matthew” i was serious this time, and he could it see it in my eyes. “don’t act like you didn’t notice how every fucking girl there was hitting on you”.

matt rolled his eyes back, giving me a whole grin before shouting “you sat on his LAP!”

“he’s my friend!” i answered. “i know him longer than i’ve known you!”

“you’re my fucking girl!”, his loud voice filled the living room to the point it made me shrug, not being able to get a word out of my mouth.

i stayed there, quiet. my arms were crossed as i stared into his eyes — i could instantly tell he regretted saying that. matt was moving in circles, scratching his freshly shaved beard and cracking his knuckles before coming back to me.

“okay? you’re my girl y/n. you can’t do shit like that and expect me to be fine about it” he grabbed my face with both of his hands and stared back at me, talking in an angry, almost demanding tone. his touch, however, was still soft.

“no matthew, i’m not your fucking girl if you’re not gonna be my fucking guy. what the fuck was that scene for?” i put my hands over his and removed them.

“listen y/n, i can’t do this. i’m sorry, okay? i’m sorry but it’s better if we go to sleep. i’m fucking tired and you’re drunk” matt never liked to sort things out during a heated moment. he needed some time alone to align his thoughts and finally being able to solve the problem.

“i’m not drunk, matt. i had a couple drinks with your brother, that’s all”.

“and that explains how you end up grinding over some guy’s lap?” he asked me again, and now i was the one who didn’t want to keep on fighting.

“you know what? you’re right. it’s better if we go to bed. but i’m gonna go back to my fucking bed, at my fucking house” i said as i walked out, not bothering looking at his face. “so have a good night by yourself matthew, you ruined the whole night”.

i stopped by the sidewalk, trying to put myself together as tears began to form in my eyes. not only i was angry and disappointed at matt, but i had no one to take me back home since he’s been the one doing this for the past year. on top of that, the weather had completely changed and i was fucking freezing.

i heard the door unlocking and his steps getting closer, but i didn’t dare looking back.

“y/n, what the fuck are you doing? come inside” matt asked and i realized he had snapped out of it already. his voice was tender and full of emotion.

“no, i’m calling an uber”.

“babe” low blow. matt knows how much i like it when he calls me pet names. “it’s late. please come, it’s getting fucking cold here”.

“good” i turned without thinking and finally saw his face again. just like me, he had red cheeks and eyes filled with tears. “you should freeze to death”.

“yeah, i’ll keep that in mind” he smiled. “y/n i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i didn’t say to those girls i had a girlfriend and i’m sorry i raised my voice at you. i know i shouldn’t have done that, can you please forgive me? please?” matt looked at me with puppy eyes. “you don’t have to do it right now but at least get inside. i’ll drop you off in the morning after you rest and we’ll fix things up. please, babe”.

i nodded my head, agreeing silently - i wasn’t gonna say a word to him. i got back to the house and quickly went upstairs, making myself comfortable in his big bed. matt didn’t follow me, and though i wouldn’t lock the door on him, he knew he was going to sleep on the couch.

- ♡ -

i glanced at the nightstand clock, 3AM. i couldn’t fall asleep without matt. i missed his smell, his touch, his warmth, the way he’d let me rest my head over his chest while caressing my back or the days where he’d give up acting tough and giving in to my touch, deeply asleep while i kept running my fingers through his curls.

i went downstairs. i had to - my heart was as heavy as my eyes.

i saw matt all curled up on the plain couch, not having a blanket or a pillow. he hadn’t even changed his clothes, still wearing the same grey jeans and black shirt he went out with earlier.

i instinctively got closer and lied down with him, trying my best to not wake matt up. just being around him like this made me let out a long breathe, finally being able to relax.

“hm? babe?” he murmured, too sleepy to actually look at me.

“cant sleep without you. shut up”

“c’m here” matt opened his arms, allowing me to snuggle into him “are you still mad? i love you. love you so much”

i loved him even more. gosh, how much i love him.

i tried to get even closer to him, glueing our bodies together as my hand rested on his thigh. i couldn’t help but kiss his jaw, playfully biting all over him. he giggled softly, melting into my touch as i kept trailing down his neck with kisses.

as i reached his sweet spot, i noticed matt’s breath had gotten slower and heavier. he didn’t say anything - in fact, i don’t think he even bothered opening his eyes - but didn’t complain as i deepened my pecks, slowing sucking onto his pale skin.

of course i was gonna give matt a hickey. if he says i’m his, then i’ll show he’s also mine.

i slowly moved my hands to his waistband, altering between tickling his lower belly and teasing his boxers.

“y/n… fuck” matt mumbled.

“hm? want me to stop?” i asked just to make sure.

“n-no, don’t. i’m… getting hard” he stared at his pants before giving me puppy eyes once again.

“are you gonna be a good boy and behave for once, matt?”

“uhum. yes yes i will” matt started speaking mindlessly, agreeing with anything i'd tell him to do.

“yeah? gonna stop acting like you’re a tough guy?”

“y-you know that im not that tough…” he whispered shyly before looking away.

“you’re right. you’re just a silly boy, aren’t you matthew?” no response. “answer me.”

“y/n, please”

“please what?”

“please let me touch you” he leaned in, trying to kiss my lips. i didn't let him go any further than a peck. “need you so bad”.

“let me take care of you first, hm?” i asked, eventually getting a grip of his bulge over his pants.

“yes babe, fuck” he nodded frantically, eager for me to get him off.

“don’t you think it’s funny?” i said, adjusting myself on the sofa so i could finally unbutton his jeans. “few hours ago you were man enough to call me a slut”. i put my hands inside matt’s pants, palming his hardened cock through his boxers. i could feel a wet spot building up, letting me know his pre-cum was already leaking. “and now you can’t even say what you want?” i teased.

“wanna be good for you” he whimpered as i removed his last piece of cloth, freeing his dick out. matt’s hips bucked into the air, begging to get some friction. “please, please, i’ll behave! i promise i’ll be your good boy”, he cried. poor thing.

i went back to kissing matt while wrapping my fingers around his length, pumping him at a slow pace. i could hear his whines and the small moans he tried to cover by biting his own lips. i placed my thumb at his tip, circling it and spreading the pre-cum down his cock.

matt had gone even quieter, left arm covering half of his face as if he was too embarrassed to admit how much he needed my touch.

soon enough, i had fastened my pace and tightened my grip, his voice finally coming out “i’m gonna cum”.

“did you get permission?”, i asked. he knew how things worked.

“f-fuck y/n, please. wanna cum so bad” matt whimpered once again, cheeks as red as his tip.

“well, you weren’t being a good boy today. do you really think you deserve it?”

“im sorry ah-” he moaned loudly “please, wanna cum. wanna cum for you” he kept repeating over and over, suddenly replacing the words with babbles full of lewd sounds. i could tell how hard he was trying to not release, worried he’d wouldn’t be a good boy anymore.

“go on, baby boy. make a mess for me” it took matt just a few seconds to sputter his cum all over my hand with a loud cry, hips jointing forward during his orgasm. i kept on softly palming his cock as he came back from his high, trying my best to not overstimulate him.

“you're SO fucking good” matt groaned, eyes still closed. “oh” he noticed i had my hand full of his release, “can i make it up to you?”

i nodded and matt grabbed his jeans to clean us up in the sloppiest way i've ever seen. he pulled his boxers back up and got off the couch, leaving me with furrowed eyebrows as i tried to understand whatever he was planning to do. he then took his shirt off so i could see all the purple spots i've left throughout his neck and collarbone, throwing it somewhere and kneeling in front of me. fuck.

matt placed his hands by the sides of my legs and decided to rest his face on my thighs, deeply starring at me with those blue eyes that would drive me insane. he then placed his fingers on my waistband, teasing me in the same way i had done earlier. it didn’t took long until he realized i wasn't wearing any panties and the sweaters i had on were, in fact, his.

“no panties and you don't want me calling you a slut?” he asked before licking his lips.

“matt, be a good boy” i said, reminding him of what had just happened.

“well” he slowly started removing my pants. “i think you should learn how to be a good girl as well”.

i was now fully exposed and matt couldn't shut up about it “you're so fucking wet”, he'd say while placing kisses on the insides of my thighs. as he got closer to my crotch and his kisses turned into love bites, i lost my sense of control - we had the same power over each other, each one of us letting go of any and all armors during intimate moments like this one.

i couldn't help but forcing my hips down on him, whining as i felt his heavy breathing against my clit. matt smiled and looked at me before giving one long lick from my hole back to my clit, just like a kitten. i gasped when he started to swirl his tongue on me and my hands instinctively went to his fluffy hair, holding onto him as if my life depended on it.

i was already on the verge of releasing - anything from him would make me come right on the spot. matt kept on scratching my thighs and occasionally holding my hips to stop me from moving around so much.

“fuck babe, your pussy is so fucking pretty” he said as he moved to my entrance, teasing me with the tip of his tongue. my dripping wet cunt made it easier for matt to get in, and he already knew i was getting close as my pussy throbbed over his face.

not a single word came out of my mouth, the living room being filled with my high pitched whimpers when matt placed his thumb over my clit and played with it - while still eating me out.

“wanna taste you” he almost begged. “wasn't i your good boy? shouldn't you cum in my mouth as a reward?” he started sucking my clit and when my eyes met his, i was thrown off the edge. my orgasm crashed down on me, making my legs tremble as i kept on moaning, matt slowing driving me through it.

i came back to my senses and found matt looking so satisfied, as if he actually had an entire meal - swollen, wet lips, messy hair and the biggest smile on his face. he came closer to my face and allowed me to have a taste of myself in a lewd kiss, both of us acknowledging our fight was over.

“i love you so much”, he whispered. “i love you even more” i said, pulling him back up to the sofa and tangling my legs around his waist, letting his body collapse onto mine as we went on our way to finally get some sleep.

- ♡ -

[wonderjanga]

Sneaky

Despite the fact Marvel is huge, the big man is surprisingly quiet.

Batman: *working on at the Batcomputer in the Batcave*

Marvel: “Mr. Batman Sir?”

Batman: *nearly jumped out of his own skin before realizing it’s just Marvel* “Captain, why are you in the Batcave?” *sounds so tired*

Marvel: “Well, I needed your help with something, and I thought I might as well just go to you directly.”

Batman. “Mhm… and this couldn’t have just waited until I came to the Watchtower?” *silently cursing himself out for letting Marvel know the location of the cave*

Marvel: “Well no. It’s important.”

Batman: *sighs* “Well what is it?”

Marvel: “Uhm… If I wanted to beat a child, how would I go about doing that without actually beating the child?”

Batman: *slowly blinks at him* “What.”

After a lot of concern and confusion on Bruce’s side, he finally got that Marvel was just asking how to discipline a child. As for why he worded that the way he did? Bruce will never know.

Marvel: *bright ahh smile* “Thanks a lot, Mr. Batman Sir!”

Batman: *slightly blinded* “It’s not a problem. I’m glad you came to me with this. If you asked that to anyone else…” *doesn’t wanna think about the consequences of that happening* “By the way, how did you get into the Batcave without setting off any of its security systems?”

Marvel: *shrugs* “I just walked through the cave tunnels to get here.”

Batman. “And you somehow managed to do that without setting off a single alarm?”

Marvel: “What? Like it’s hard?”

Batman: “Hn.” *a little offended because he prides himself on his security*

or

Canary, Batman, GA: *all on a stealth mission*

Marvel: *also here for some reason*

Batman: *looks to GA and Black Canary* “You two, go around back.”

GA and Canary: *nod heads*

Batman: “I’ll go from above, and Marvel? You go from the front.”

Marvel: “Yes sir.” *just happy to be there*

GA: *sounds unsure* “Wait, B, are you sure about this? I mean no offense, but the big guy doesn’t exactly scream stealthy.”

Marvel: “I’m plenty stealthy.” *whisper yells*

GA: “Yeah sure, bud.”

Marvel: “But I totally am!”

Canary: “How about the both of you stop arguing so we can get this over with?”

Marvel and GA: “Yes, ma’am.”

Batman and Canary: *jump off to their positions*

GA: *looks over to Marvel* “I’ll bet you a cheeseburger that you’ll get us caught.”

Marvel: “Make it six cheeseburgers and you have a deal.”

GA: “Done.”

They shook hands on it.

Billy likes to think he’s stealthed pretty well on that mission. Green Arrow can say whatever he wants, but he still got his cheeseburgers. One for him and every single other Vazquez kid.

Also, at some point, Marvel sneaking up on people and scaring them shit out of them became so much of a problem that they actually tied a bell around his neck like he was a cat.

Marvel: *walks by, the bell jingling*

GL: *watches him and is extremely confused* “What is that about?”

Flash: “Huh? Oh well, you know how Marvel goes around accidentally scaring the shit out of people because somehow no one notices him?”

GL: “Yeah?”

Flash: “Yeah, well the bell’s so we can tell where he is and not get scared.”

GL: “Ooooh. Isn’t that a little embarrassing though?”

Flash: “I guess.” *shrugs* “But he doesn’t really seem to have much of a problem with it.”

Marvel: “You guys talking about me?”

GL and Flash: *both scream*

Flash: “Dude! How’d you do that?! You have the flipping bell around your neck??”

Marvel: “You didn’t hear me?”

GL: “No!???”

It was safe to say the bell didn’t really work that well.

[bokunoheros]

˚࿔ LOVE BUZZ | KINKTOBER 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

🪲 authors note :// to my 7 iida fans, I hope my kinktober posts of him will feed you well

topics discussed and warnings:// modern/no-powers au, smut, tenya works a 9-5, you work from home, apology sex, thigh riding, shower sex, very light bdsm undertones (mentions of tenya iida being a switch), established relationships (you two happen to be married), hand jobs, kissing, p in v, readers gender is not specified but i do use female anatomical terminology and reference reader as ‘wife,’ FLUFFFFFFFFF, slice of life a little, tenya is such husband material i love him so much, ‘rough’ sex

word count:// 2404 raunchy words

ᯓ heed the warnings laid before you, your media consumption is your responsibility! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

every WORD under the cut will be R-RATED- SO, +18 only, respect my wishes regarding interactions.

𝜗𝜚 no beta, we die like men.

✎ᝰ His texts were always so formal with you.

“Eat without me. I’ll be late.”

“I’m very sorry, I promise I will make it up to you.”

“I won’t be any later than 8 pm. I’m sorry, I love you.”

Though disappointed, you weren’t surprised to be eating dinner at the table alone again. You worked from home, and your husband, Iida Tenya, worked away at a law firm. You sent him back a vague and honestly petty ‘love you too’ message as you ate dinner alone for the third time this week. You could never be mad at him, no, never. You’d only play it up just to get coddled by him, kissed and spoiled.

After you finished your portion of dinner, you packed up his and sat it in the fridge, before wandering into the living room to have your personal phone time. A few minutes passed and he texted you that he was coming home and would be there soon. You didn’t care to reply, just huffing as you read the message before continuing to scroll through your image feed.

Within 15 minutes he’s knocking at the front door. He usually would let himself in, which was odd at first but you figured he probably had his hands full of paperwork. You got up from the couch with a tired groan, following the echoed noise of knocking until you opened the door.

There your husband stood with a tired smile on his face, holding his briefcase with one hand and a nice bouquet in the other. Your originally cold and upset expression melted immediately, your lips parting with a soft ‘oh.’

“I’m sorry I’m late. Again.” Your husband sighed, adjusting the flowers in his hand. They were your favorite kind too, dotted about with other smaller flowers like baby's breath and eucalyptus branches.

“Tenya,” you pouted, stepping closer to take the arrangement from him, holding it gently in the palms of your hand. He stared down at you, studying your reaction. “I got done as quick as I could but, I figured I owed you something.”

You snorted, “You know you don’t have to,” your fingers brush over every petal, savoring the velvety feel of each one.

“You always say that.” Tenya chuckles, rubbing the side of his neck. He watches you chew on the inside of your cheek while you observe the flowers he’s bought you.

You glance up at him before hoisting yourself up on your tippy-toes to give him a gentle peck on the lips. “I’m not mad at you, I promise.” Tenya nods, but he still looks dissatisfied with himself for hardly being home and letting work consume him. You step out of the way so he can come inside, closing the door behind him and locking it. He slips off his shoes with a sigh, dropping his briefcase of paperwork to the floor with a clunk. You stride to the kitchen to find a vase to put your flowers in, and when you finally place them into their glad enclosure with a hum, you're startled by your husband wrapping his strong arms around your waist.

“Gah!” You yell, chuckling while he tightens his arms around your front. “Mm, sorry.” He purrs into your neck, his glasses scratching your skin briefly as he moves to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Want any dinner? I put it in the fridge for you.” You ask, leaning into his chest.

He shakes his head, “No, save it.”

“Are you sure?” You questioned him, rubbing his forearm with your hands. “You worked all day, did you eat lunch?”

Tenya chuckled into your shoulder, nuzzling his nose against what the collar of your tee shirt exposed. “I ate what you made me, it was delicious.” His arms tightened around you ever so slightly, “Forget about me, did you eat?”

You nod, raising one of your hands to brush into his hair. “Good,” he says, lifting his lips to your ear before he whispers: “Care for dessert?”

The hair on the back of your neck stands up and you can’t help but shiver at this obvious proposition. You smile faintly to yourself, pretending to act as if you didn’t catch his drift. “What did you have planned?”

Tenya’s voice vibrates in your ear, “Hmm, I dunno…” he trails off momentarily, his tongue swiping a line down your neck. “You.”

You sigh as his teeth brush against your flesh, rolling your neck to the side for him. “Why don’t you join me in the shower, hm?”

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” you chortle, nails scratching his skin. He lets out a pleased sigh, “Get in without me, it’s my turn to do dishes.” A hand slides over your rear, squeezing the fatty flesh there before he pulls away from you. You roll your eyes at him, lovingly of course, before you head to your master bathroom.

You leave the door open as you start to undress, listening to the sounds of plates clinking together as your dear husband washes them. Once you’re fully undressed, you open the doors to your glass shower and start the water, stepping in when it’s the right temperature to steam up the glass.

You’re rinsing your face when your husband joins you, slipping behind with a soft ‘hello.’ You share the water for the moment, letting each other rinse off, and taking the time to massage one another’s back when you swap back and forth between the shower head. When you go to swap again, you turn to your husband and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss you. Your lips mingle and his big hands find your fleshy hips, sighing into your mouth as he feels you up and down. Without his glasses the metal isn’t poking you in the face, and it makes it so much easier for you to slip your tongue as far as you can into his mouth. Tenya grips you tightly, pulling your hips flush to his. His semi-hard erection presses into your lower stomach and gives you butterflies.

“I love you,” he huffed into your mouth, licking his tongue along your bottom row of teeth. You hum in response, dragging your hands down his chest. He only lets you hum back as he moves you, pushing you flush against the tile. You shudder and gasp into his mouth when the cold ass tile hits your bare skin.

You recovered and snake one of your hands down to his cock, teasing his balls in your palm. Your husband breaks away from your lips and nuzzles into your cheek with a puff, his wet hair dripping onto your shoulders. You move to kiss his neck, licking up the water in his skin as you move your thigh between his legs, hoisting your foot onto the lip of the shower. He grunts as you force your leg between his, and he unconsciously grinds his hips into your thigh. Holding his arms above you to stabilize himself, he rocks back and forth while you continue to kiss at his neck and shoulders, using one hand to wrap around his dick and start a gentle pace.

“Mm, my God…” Tenya breathes, resting his forehead against the tile in front of him. You pump his cock until he’s fully erect in your hand, using your free hand to force him to ride your thigh. You chuckle into his skin, sucking a bright red mark into his collarbone. “M’You like that, baby?” You ask him, kissing his jaw tenderly.

He moans your name as you fist the top of his cock in your hand, “Mhf— Fuck, I do.” He grinds back and forth on your thigh, lazily rolling his hips while you jerk him off. Tenya isn’t one to curse, but when you two have sex the words roll off his tongue so naturally. You purr against his skin, squeezing his shaft as your other hand teases his rear, spreading him apart ever so slightly. He bites his lip to swallow a grumbling moan, balling his fists up.

He narrows his eyes, his demeanor changing as he starts to feel himself grow closer and closer to the brink— “Stop, mm’wanna cum in you.” he grunts, one of his big hands finds your throat, turning you to look up at him before he slams his lips against yours again. Your stomach flips and any objections are muffled by his puffy lips, his calloused fingers tightening around your jaw softly. You let go of his cock, straightening yourself back up and removing your leg from between his thighs. His hand moves to hold you steady by the nape of your neck, biting your lip as he kisses you. You moan softly into his mouth when you feel his over hand slide up your abdomen and to your left breast, groping the meat there.

He moves both his hands to your waist, turning you with him so that his back faces the tile wall while yours faces the glass doors. Tenya has to force you off of his lips to turn you around, facing you towards the doors. You pant as he presses you softly against the foggy glass, your cheek wiping the dew away. His hands land on your hips, his thick erection resting against the valley of your ass. He huffed behind you, his hands admiring every inch of your curves as you watched slack-jawed against the glass. Grinding against your ass, you hum, resting your palms on the glass while you push your hips back against his. Tenya leans down to kiss your shoulder blades with a gentle smile, muttering softly into your skin.

“Missed you so bad,” you moan at his words, moving your feet as he kicks your ankles open. The dominant hand on your hip moves over your navel before his skilled fingers find your cunt, using his index and middle finger to tease your clit. Your legs shake as he twirls his fingers in circles.

“Mm’Tenya, please—“ you mewl and he shifts his balance, straightening up his back. One hand leaves your hips to curl around his dick, angling himself for your cunt. Your husband uses his thumb to spread your lips, before he teases your clit with his cockhead. You shiver, pelvis twitching as he pushes himself against your puffy bud. He plays with his cock around your cunt, lathering himself in your arousal before he finally braces himself to enter you.

His thick cock slips in with little to no resistance, and you can’t help but hold your breath at the stretch. Your husband groans as he pushes himself in until your hips are flush together and his testicles tease your clit. His hands find purchase on your hips once more, keeping you steady as your knees quiver.

“Mmhhf…” you huff, pressing your forehead against the glass. He slowly pulls back, staring at how your pussy tries to suck him back in. “God, you always feel so good…” your husband mutters under his breath, keeping you spread with his thumbs. He pulls back until he’s barely inside of you before torturing you with another slow thrust, shoving himself balls deep again.

“D—Don’t tease me, Tenya…” your eyes flutter shut when his cockhead glides over that one fucking spot, “Fffuuck.”

He shushes you, gripping your hips tighter. “Just…” he trails off, biting his tongue. He pulls his hips back again, before thrusting back faster this time. He’s driving you fucking insane, but holy fucking shit does your husband have the cock of a god so you can’t complain. “Stay still, honey.”

His words roll off his damn tongue like molasses even though he’s starting to pick up the pace. His balls slap lightly against your clit as he keeps filling you with himself over and over. One hand leaves your hip to grip your shoulder, forcing you back on his cock as he starts to fuck you like a feral man. You spew moans from your mouth as he suddenly starts a rough pace. You move your face to rest your cheek against the glass, glancing back at him as he fucks you from behind.

Your sweet husband glances up at you with a smirk, slowing down just to spite you. Your eyes flutter shut with a pathetic moan, letting him manhandle you how he wants. He moves you closer to the glass so that your back is flush with his chest, doing this all while he is completely still inside you. You wince as your hard nipples slide against the cold glass doors, before his hands come to grope your tits.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mutters into your ear while he starts to speed his hips back up until he’s fucking barreling his cock into you, and the only thing you can to is cling to the glass like some fucking frog. Those big hands of his bite down hard into your tits, making you cry a painful moan. “Mm’my beautiful fucking wife—“ Tenya groans, and keeps fucking you into the glass until the panes shake, your eyes rolling back into your head before they flutter shut at his compliment. You can help but squeeze him tighter and tighter, your legs starting to shake as he fucks you closer to your orgasm.

“Tenya— mmfffhh, fuck—“ you mewl, “‘Gonna make mmm— cum—“ he suckles your neck at your words, nipping and biting at your skin as he keeps his pace, his dick brushing over right where you need him over and over. You tense, moans getting caught in your throat as you start to come around his cock, your knees buckling under yours and his weight. He lets go of your breasts and catches you, but he doesn’t stop his pace. You hold onto him, gritting your teeth as he bites into your shoulder as he comes, shooting all of his pent up arousal into you. Your husband gasps against your skin as he pushes himself as far as he can, making sure to coat every inch of your cunt with his semen.

“Hmm, Tenya.” You hummed with a pleased expression on your face. He hurries his face into your neck with a sigh, “Sorry, I might’ve been too…”

You shook your head before interrupting him, “No, I liked it.”

You sighed, “we're gonna have to shower again.” Tenya chuckled, “We’ve already wasted so much water.”

THANK YOU FOR READING! if you wish to see more of me, ₊⊹

my carrd // kofi (tip me!). // kinktober 2024

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Dating a ghost isn't easy...

I love my boyfriend. I really do, but his death has put a strain on our relationship. At least Halloween is close which means his spirit is close too. Like always, I spend lunch alone at our favorite cafe, waiting for him to fill the empty seat next to me. I jump when a burly worker throws his heavy frame down, blaring a husky, "Hey sexy! Give your man a smile!"

"Danny?" I ask, shaken by the guy's abrupt arrival and more-than-rough countenance.

"The name's Gordon," he bellows back, draping his dirty arms and legs aggressively outward, "But yeah, it's me sugar, your dead boyfriend. I thought you'd appreciate me showing up in a hunky body of the working man!" He flexes one of his thick arms and flashes challenging looks at some of the nearby customers.

His crass words make me shudder. My Danny was soft-spoken, charming, and thoughtful: nothing like the rude, stinking gorilla in front of me. Sure, a big hairy construction worker like this is great to fantasize about, but it's less exciting when that hulking body is sitting right there. His cocky mannerisms, sour body odor, and wandering eyes that seem to undress everyone they land on: it all adds to the growing pit in my stomach.

"You just gonna stare, sweet-lips?" he goes on, snickering with Gordon's deep timbre, "Spent the morning jackhammering the sidewalk, but now I could hammer your organs out!"

"Danny!" I blush, checking to see if anyone overheard. They're already staring, probably wondering why this guy sat down at this nice cafe caked in mud, "Can you cool it with this Gordon-the-macho-construction-worker vibe? I know you can't help it, but it's a bit much!"

"Fuck! Just shut up and kiss me already," he grunts, leading his heavy body covered in sweat with puckered lips in my direction.

"Danny sto-OH!" I can't help but melt into the bulky embrace. With arms like Gordon's, I don't have much choice, and though his breath smells like cigarettes and his skin is slick with sweat, I enjoy finally kissing my boyfriend again even if it is through the mouth of some ridiculously unmannered construction worker. At least I've got my boyfriend back!

"That's my boy," he growls low in my ear, and I feel a strong hand squeeze my ass tightly through its filthy work glove. Fuck! Danny is so assertive inside this Gordon character.

"Babe, please not here," I wheeze from the effort of escaping the intensely strong grip, "And not with Gordon. Aren't you tired of being an dumb, hairy ape yet?"

"Not at all!" he announces as he reclines in his seat, almost yelling with Gordon's loud voice.

I shake my head, admittedly feeling more and more amused by this rough-around-the-edges giant. Ever since Danny passed away and started possessing people, I realized hopping into bodies wasn't like the movies. He didn't just jump into some dude and take over, his soul became entwined with that other person. All of his hosts have personalities, memories, and habits that bleed into Danny as long as he's wearing them. Honestly, more of the host shines through than my actual boyfriend does, but regardless of who he possesses, his love for me is never affected. I suppose that's enough to put up with some of the more unpleasant quirks of each guy he takes over.

"I don't mind walkin' around in Gordo's boots," he grins at me, obviously at home in the man's sun-dried skin, "But lemme see if I can find a cleaner stiff to hop in for ya."

With that, Danny hoists himself off chair. I swear every move he makes in that body is startling, shaking the table with the ruckus of his tool belt being carelessly whipped around. Seeing the burly worker stand there with his hands on his hips makes me almost regret suggesting he swap out of the body. Sure the mud, sweat, and body hair makes my skin itch, but imagining that thug attacking me with his careless dominance is turning me on: not to mention the tight ass beneath that denim.

"Lunch break is almost over. Needa head back to the yard," he growls and then catches himself, "I mean Gordon does. I'll be back in someone else to finish this fuckin' date!"

"You're a real working man, Gordon," I tease, understanding this character a bit better "I'm sure you're the big boss on site."

"You bet yer ass, I am," he thumbs his chest proudly, "Someone's gotta keep the guys runnin' smoothly. Who else gonna do it?"

"Well I'll let you get back to work. Hopefully I'll run into you again. Maybe at home tonight?"

"Hell yeah!" he bursts, "I'll hop in this guy later, so I can take a look at your plumbing. Anything you need! ...I'll be your handyman, baby!"

"Hope you don't mind getting your hands dirty," I wink, and he flashes me one last wild grin from Gordon's face. That grin falters, and the construction worker shudders. His eyes still stare at me, but I can tell they don't recognize me anymore. Danny's left his body.

"Uh, sorry 'bout that," the real Gordon mumbles, "Dunno what came over me."

"Don't worry about it."

"We know each other?" he asks, pawing at his head in desperate confusion, "We been chattin' like we do. Only just realized I don't think I know you like I thought I did." The poor guy's mind is probably racing with conflicting ideas.

The laborer chuckles nervously. I can tell Gordon is completely unsure about what he's been doing. Danny seems to have that effect on his hosts. Understand that they're still conscious while he possesses them; his thoughts just merge with their own. So, right now, Gordon the rough-neck construction worker is trying to reconcile the fact that he's been thinking of me as his boyfriend for the last twenty minutes. The poor guy's probably never had a gay thought in his life! Yet he just spent his break flirting with some random guy at a random cafe. He even kissed me, and I'm pretty sure Danny was imagining some rather homoerotic things with that guy's head.

"Sorry, man," I shrug, pretending to be just as clueless as he is.

"Fuckin' queer," his face hardens into a glare before he leaves our inexplicable lunch date.

"See you tonight, Gordo!" I call lightheartedly.

The construction worker gives me an intense scowl, but I can see blushing cheeks under that matted beard. Danny definitely had some sexual thoughts while possessing that guy, and Gordon seems completely embarrassed that those thoughts were in his head. Well, his opinion on the subject will completely change once again tonight when Danny hops back in.

"Afternoon, sir," a voice hums to my right, "Got some time to thank me for my service?"

"Danny?" I immediately gasp.

"In the flesh," the policeman flirts with a cool voice, "At least, in your hometown hero's flesh." Danny enjoys a sip of coffee and shoots me a smile from the man's sparkling white teeth.

"Uh, are you sure you should be inside a cop," I whisper, leaning in so our fellow cafe-goers won't hear. They were already staring when a big blue-collar bear sat opposite me, but now their intrigue is growing from this man of the law. It doesn't help that this cop is a local celebrity! Nearly everyone's seen him on the news. With a face like that, it's no wonder the force chose him for public relations.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he extends a capable hand, "The name's Officer Steele."

"Well, officer," I try not to swoon too hard as Danny forcefully shakes my palm, "I'm-"

"You're my lover," he interjects warmly, "I know you like a man in uniform, sir. Why not enjoy the best guy this town has in uniform?"

"Wow, I..." I fumble, "...yup. Are you sure I'm not keeping you from anything important?"

"I've got patrol duty today," he nonchalantly answers, "But the town’s quiet. Besides, a guy’s gotta take a break sometime, right? Can’t be all work and no play." The officer's sneer is dripping with pride, clearly keeping a high opinion of himself! I doubt this man would be so open if Danny weren't in their making Steele think I'm his lover. Who knew the cop was as arrogant as he was charming?

"Aren't your fellow police counting on you to protect and serve, officer?"

"Oh sir, I can show you how well I protect and serve. And my men know better than to question me. I mean, look at me. Who else is gonna chase down the perps? Certainly not those doughnut-loving desk jockeys.” Steele stares me down with a confident, haughty look as he rises out of the chair. It's hard to do anything but listen and watch when Danny's wearing a guy like this. His eyes grip me in a trance while his fingers undo his shirt buttons.

"Like what you see, sir?" Officer Steele smirks.

I can only answer with a dumb nod as I drink in the sight of his chiselled torso. Somehow the dusting of blonde fur only defines his perfect musculature further. At this point, everyone in the cafe has stopped to gawk at the cop stripping in the middle of their lunch.

"You make one hell of a cop, Danny," I breathe.

"It's Officer Steele, remember?" he winks, and bounces his pecs, rippling the fabric dangling off his shoulders, "I work out twice a day, before and after my shift. Sure it helps keep the town safe, but I also just like the citizens of this town to see me as the hot, muscular cop of their dreams. I love their eyes on me when I pull them over or walk past on patrol. They're always intimidated, jealous, or turned on."

With this Danny looks around at the people around him, matching their stunned expressions. I'll admit that I'm a little surprised by how vulnerable my boyfriend is getting with this cop's inner thoughts. Maybe this is all how Steele actually feels, but I doubt the officer would want to share it with the world!

"Maybe we should slow down," I suggest.

"Do I need to get out my handcuffs, sir," the cop purrs, his tone sharpening as he steps closer, "I'm used to having a good girl waiting for me at home, but I want that to be you tonight. Men are a whole lot more capable than women afterall. I'll be late from the gym, but I'd like supper ready. Think you can handle that?" His big hands hold me squarely at the shoulders while he stares down in my eyes. For a second I'm lost in the proximity of his handsome face and statuesque muscles.

That's when I notice the ring.

"Jesus, Danny!" I chastise.

"It's Officer Steele!"

"No! Jump out! You hopped into a married man!" Honestly, part of me is relieved to find something wrong. Officer Hadley was starting to freak me out, and now that I know he's married to a woman, his sexist comments are starting to make a lot more sense.

"Oh, come on," the cop rolls his eyes, "She doesn't have to know. You're my boyfriend, anyway! You won't find a hotter guy than me!"

I put my foot down and give Steele a look, appealing to the Danny I know is somewhere inside him. Like I'd hoped, he relents and let's out one more sigh of frustration. Then the cop's meticulously trained body shivers and his eyes lose their intense focus. In seconds, Danny's spirit slips out of the cocky cop.

"Woah!" Officer Steele gasps, "Why did I do that?" He looks just as confused as Gordon did, frantically trying to button up his shirt and lose the attention of everyone in the cafe.

"Beats me," I play dumb, "Hope your wife doesn't hear about this."

"No!" the cop stomps over, "That wasn't what happened. I wasn't...coming on to you or anything. I'm not even into men!"

"Seemed like you were..." I press.

"I don't know what I was thinking. I'm going home to my wife tonight. You are not..." Steele glances around warily before whispering, "...my boyfriend. Got it!"

"Of course, Officer," I assure him, enjoying the rapid crumbling of his confident swagger.

The policeman lingers around the cafe to collect himself and straighten up his uniform. I can tell he'd like to say a few more words before leaving, but he thinks twice with the crowd of witnesses and strides off forcefully. I wonder if a guy like that would lash out if we weren't in such a public place. His poor wife better watch out tonight. I can't believe my Danny was inside a guy like that! The thought of his good-natured demeanor mixing with that man's entitlement and aggression makes me sick; not to mention his antiquated ideas about gender roles!

That's what's always so tricky about dating my boyfriend through a neverending series of hosts. Sure, I get to sleep with a rotation of the hottest characters I want, but the bad gets mixed in there too. I have to put up with his body's offensive ideas, mean comments, and weird behavior. I know I can't blame Danny for it, but while he's possessing those guys, those are his thoughts as much as they are theirs. It's just unsettling.

"Sorry about that," I hear behind me.

"You're in the waiter now?" I feign a smile, unable to hide how tired I've grown.

Now that the cafe is rid of the policeman and construction worker, the atmosphere of the place seems to go back to normal. People turn their attention back to the food on their plates or the screens on their phones.

"Can I get you another cup? It's on the house," the cafe server tries to lighten the mood.

"Danny, I'm just tired..." I admit, "Wait, what's the name now?"

"It's Josh," the waiter replies, "But I am sorry about being inside that cop. I just want tonight to be special you know. That's why I've been combing the town for the biggest, hottest guys to jump in. You deserve the best!"

"Josh...Danny, you don't need to give me the best. Sure it'd be fun to mess around with you inside Gordon or Officer Steele, but right now I want you to be in someone that makes me feel like it used to. I miss you, the real you."

"I guess I really did pick some bad ones today," the waiter chuckles, smiling with dimples in his cheeks, "I felt so manly and tough in Gordon; like I didn't give a shit about anyone except my man. In Steele I felt so cocky and sure of myself, and honestly a little too entitled to you. It's hard to realize if I'm in the wrong with each of these guys. In their heads, they all believe themselves to be right, and I can't help but think the same in the moment."

"I know," I sigh, frustrated by the influence these guys have over my ghost boyfriend, "How do you feel in Josh the waiter."

Danny perks up in the cafe worker's body. I have to admit that this guy's energy is infectious, and he's far from bad looking. His broad shoulders look perfect for hugging, and he smells faintly of coffee. I don't know how I never noticed him working here before. I must've been preoccupied, looking for ghosts, to miss a charming barista like Josh.

"I have to admit something," Danny says with Josh's sweet tone, "I've got a crush on you. Had it for awhile. You're the hot guy that always sits here during lunch."

"Well, I'd hope you have a crush on me. You are my boyfriend afterall," I snort.

"No, I, Josh, have a crush on you," he smiles.

"Oh," I'm at a loss for words. Somehow this feels like a whole new can of worms. I'm flattered, but unsure. Is it weird if I flirt with someone that has a crush on me while my boyfriend is inside them? They're both conscious right now, so it's genuine right? But am I really flirting with Josh as long as Danny is in there too. Does flirting with another guy while your boyfriend is possessing him count as cheating? I can't even keep track anymore.

I don't have time to think before Josh/Danny has rushed over and pulled me into his arms. It feels just as good as I imagined to be in the waiter's embrace, and it feels even better to kiss. This guy, this Josh, seems romantic, kind-hearted, and gleeful; he reminds me of what it was like when Danny was alive. Before I know it, my boyfriend/new crush is clocking out of work and leading me to his car, holding me close, and whispering in my ear, "Happy Halloween, babe."

I love the spooky season.

[celesteleoves]

“IM SORRY, I DIDNT MEAN IT.”

.ೃ࿐ GOJO SATORU X fem!reader

summary: satoru comes home tired and exhausted, so exhausted he lets words slip that he didn’t mean.

warnings: gojo yells at reader but doesn’t do anything otherwise, reader cries a bit, profanities, reader thinks gojo is going to get aggressive (he never would), angst at the start and fluff at the end!

a/n: first jjk drabble, cut me some slack pls 🧎‍♀️ —

he never got angry, he never let his frustrations out on others, he was always composed and energetic.

that’s how you would describe your boyfriend satoru gojo, he was cheerful and always lightened up your household in seconds the moment he entered it and when he left, it felt empty.

you knew how it is in the sorcerer world: hard, exhausting, draining, frustrating, and sometimes enjoyable. but satoru always pushed through how exhausted he felt and gave you a big smile when he got home.

but today, gojo would be too tired to keep up a cheerful front and was just exhausted. he was so drained from the countless missions he’s had this week he was bound to snap at one point.

you prayed he wouldn’t snap at you, though.

bustling around you and gojos shared kitchen, you made his favourite meal and desert, happily making it in hopes it’ll cheer up your tired lover.

you finished making his favourites and were about to call him to see when he’d be home when the front door opened, shutting with a click of a lock and the sound of gojos keys clanking as he threw them on a nearby surface.

“satoru! you’re home just in time.” your soft voice normally would’ve had satoru jumping off the walls but everything was off today. satoru hater how he was feeling.

he was irked at everything, he even snapped on nanami which left the blonde staring at the white haired man in shock as gojo stood up and walked away from the other sorcerer.

“yeah.” gojo lazily mumbled as he shoved past you, walking towards your fridge and getting himself a cup of water.

frowning, you ignored his actions and began talking about the meal you made as gojo added ice to his glass of water.

stop talking, just stop. gojo let out a quiet groan as you happily talked about your day. too bad he couldn’t reciprocate your energy, he was so angry at everything.

his lanky body moved towards your dining room table, flopping down on one of the chairs as he spread his legs to feel comfortable. placing the cup down, he held the bridge of his nose as you practically yelled to him about dinner from the kitchen.

you hadn’t noticed how aggravated he seemed with your voice and instead continued making a plate of food for him while telling him facts about your day and who you had seen while visiting jujustu tech, only to not find him there (he was on a mission, AGAIN).

“and so, i made your favourite! i know you really like this dish and these are your favourite sweets, so i bought some of those and…”

your voice was blaring in gojos head as you walked over to him, holding his plate in your hands with a smile on your face.

his eyes were worn out, sullen and dark as they stared at you from his hands.

he couldn’t handle this, he was going to snap.

“can you just fuck off already? just… shut up!” he growled, his words taking extra long for you to register as you began to stutter, small tears forming at your waterline as you blinked at gojo.

gojo looked up at you after noticing the silence, only to see you shaking. the plate of food in your hands looked as if it was about to tip over and create a mess on the floor. the plate of food YOU made just for HIM.

your boyfriends eyes widened as he watched you clumsily place his plate down infront of him and back away from his sitting form.

“i- um, im sorry, satoru. i’ll give you space.” you mumbled as you tried to hold in your emotions. your actions showed you felt fear, you were scared of him in this moment because he did not look like your satoru.

satorus eyes widened as he felt his heart drop. did he seriously just do that? why would he do that? why did he yell at you like that when all you were trying to do was be there for him and keep him filled with joy during tough times like these.

he watched you sway and shake as you walked away, his legs moving quicker than he expected as he hugged you from behind.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.” satoru whispered into your neck as his arms latched around your waist.

you froze, turning around and looking at your exhausted boyfriend clearly.

he looked so tired, so drained you almost didn’t recognize him. you scolded yourself internally for not noticing it sooner.

your heart softened at the sight of your first and last lover crumbling in your arms as he apologized profusely.

“shh, it’s okay ‘toru. i shouldn’t have been all over you when you needed space.”

“no, i should’ve let you. i need you more than ever.”

his voice shook as he spoke, looking up at you while scanning your face. you looked so gorgeous, so pretty for him today and he felt awful that he didn’t tell you that as soon as he stepped foot through the door.

“it’s okay, baby. i get it.” you smiled at him as he let a soft smile grow on his lips that were in a frown.

“lookin’ so stunning today, sweets. you’re amazing.” he grinned at you as you jokingly rolled your eyes.

“thank you, i know.” you teased him as he pulled you into a kiss, slow and lovingly before beginning to tell you about everything that happened with him this week.

you both sat at your dining room table as you occasionally fed satoru his food and added onto his words while he talked about missions, his students, and more.

you two loved eachother, and no matter how stressed out or drained you are; you made a deal to always be there for eachother, no hiding anything.

.ೃ࿐

please leave tips, requests, or anything of the sort! i’m open to any requests or suggestions 🤍 enjoy babes.

[grapejuicestyless]

Leader Of The Landslide

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: John B was always your dad’s favorite. You always assumed it was because he blamed your mother leaving on you. Though he never outwardly neglected you, you always seemed to live in your older brother’s shadow. To everyone except one.

I remembered it from a young age, as early as seven, the way they all shunned me. My mother had been long gone, and my tired brain hadn’t held a single warm memory of her other than one.

We were at the chateau, as my dad called it, sitting on the old porch. Only, it wasn’t old then, it was new, and without the cigarette buds littering the once vibrant oak. There was an old wicker chair in the corner, pushed where the dusty couch now lay. It rocked slightly, not because it was meant to, but because it was broken. The distant memory of mumbled yelling and crashing from outside. Arguments that kept me and John B hidden under his covers until daylight broke. I loved that chair.

When I was young, my mom used to hold me in that chair. She never thought I was too old to be held, to be doted on by my mother. I still called her “mama” in my toddler years, pawing at the ends of her hair and the old fabric of her shirt. She sang soft melodies to me, songs I had never committed to memory, but songs I found in the simple things I enjoy now.

Popes dad says I had her eyes, and John B once told me that our dad thought I had her laugh. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t like me, he tells me he loves me, but he doesn’t like me.

Right before she left, I had been padding along the grain of the wood floors, my blanket dragging between my legs and my dad’s shirt were my makeshift pajamas hanging down to my ankles. A storm, ones we got often in the summertime as the air became warmer and pushed out the cold, had broken down a few large branches in the yard, and in an effort to find comfort, I ran to my mama.

“You favor that girl over our son!” My dad shouted, his voice thick with a simmering anger I had never heard before. I swore even then I could feel it through the walls.

“How dare you! They are my babies! I love those kids more than anything I have ever loved, and I love them just the same!” My mama argued, but her voice was softer, more conscious of her young ones who she believed were tucked into bed just a few feet away.

“I should have known you would have been this way. You haven’t seen them the same since they were born.” My mama added softly, her words bitter and heavy with an unspoken truth.

There was a heavy silence, and then, a crack. I wasn’t sure what it was, the sound of rings hitting skin and the soft clanking of another hitting the ground. I ran quietly, light on my feet as soon as the collision happened, crawling over to John B’s bed and pulling the sheets up to my chin. He didn’t even stir, so used to the feeling of my legs curling against his, expecting to wake up nose to nose when the sun would shine through his thin curtains. The arguments happened so often, it became rare that he wouldn’t wake up with me tucked into bed beside him, a nervous wreck and furrowed brows.

That was the last time I saw my mother, or heard her voice. I hadn’t known it then, but the way my father seemed distant that morning told me it was more than one of the usual fights. She wouldn’t be walking through that door again in a few days like she sometimes would, and she would never sing to me again.

I remember laying out across that old chair, pulling my small knees to my chest. Her perfume lingered on the cushion tied around the back, and her voice was carried over the breeze. She wasn’t coming back, and the pain in my father’s eyes and the churning of his stomach told me that much.

A few days later, dad called my brother and I into the living room to tell us how mama had skipped town, set off for a better life. I could tell they both blamed her, bother hated her secretly for it almost instantly, and being so young and impressionable, I nearly agreed, I nearly believed it. But I saw the way my father spoke to her and the way he had the ability to make her snap back. She deserved that life my father said she was chasing, even if deep down I knew it was a lie.

I never told my brother that dad was lying, though sometimes I did whisper it in his sleep like a prayer, like my truth would reach his dreams and taint his false sense into seeing whats real. But even as a little kid I wasn’t innocent enough to blabber on about how horrible our last living parent was. Especially not when our dad was to John B as what our mother was to me.

The chair was gone soon after, and my dad refused to tell me where he’d thrown it. At first I thought he had broken it, but he was a sensible man at times, and the extra cash lying around the kitchen told me he had sold it, and he had killed her memory too.

Years later, with barely any recollection of who she was, and lacking the foundations of which she should have built for me, sometimes I found myself curled up in that corner, my knees pulled to my chest tightly in the same ball I wound myself in all those years ago, and sometimes I found myself still calling out for her, like if she had heard how much I still needed her, she would sing for me one last time.

But I am much older now, and it has dawned on me repeatedly like some sick prayer that I am too old to be held, to be shown the affection of a mother and her infant, and I have been since the day she left.

Early mornings and stained glass windows, not from paints, but mold. Old rotten wood and dusty broken furniture. A safe haven to call home, a quiet room on the heart of the cut. My brother and I often pulled out patches of grass in the backyard, and sometimes we’d sit together on the hammock, see how high we could swing and loop our fingers around the rope to hold on.

Dad would sit inside, sometimes by the kitchen window where he could look out and watch over us, but he mainly spent his time inside of his office, which had at one point, been moms bedroom.

He used to leaning over the dirty counters, feeling the sun on his skin, letting the gentle breeze cool the back of his neck. But dad loved a lot of things, and unlike mom, he lacked a discreet touch about those things.

I guess it could be traced back to when my brother and I had just turned eight. A week after the party had rolled over, and glasses kept piling up around the house, sticky and stained a faint brown from his favorite cheap whiskey. Sometimes I tried to clean them up, and I would place them in the sink, but the colors never faded, not even after my small palms would bleed and callous.

Once, John B asked me what I was doing. He had been playing outside with Pope and JJ, and JJ had been screaming for me to come outside and be his partner in ‘signs’, our favorite childhood card game. Though, JJ and I often lost because we too, lacked the ability to be discreet in any situation.

I told him I’d be out soon, I was just doing the dishes and I’ll never forget the look on my dad’s face. The usually happy, calm man looked down at his feet with something I’ve later identified embarrassment. I never blamed dad for drinking. I figured if mom leaving was still hard on me after all this time, it must have been hard for him too.

He began using his coffee mug after that. The dark liquid less shameful in a cup that gave him the ability to not only disguise his problem, but to commit it at any time of day, because John B was too oblivious to notice, and I was too naive to believe he would.

“Bird.” Dad called for John B in the backyard, not caring how Pope and I were arguing nonsensical things over each other, waving our arms and pointing fingers. JJ happily mediated, laughing at our schoolyard taunts and remarks, encouraging us to snap back, though we all knew our words were nothing more than that, and we all loved each other a great deal too much to mean any of it.

If I hadn’t been so caught up in my own thoughts, maybe I would’ve seen the way dad was swaying. The way his knuckles were white around the frame of the door. His glasses were crooked, and his breath rotten with substances. But I didn’t notice, and so little John B happily walked towards our father with open arms.

Dad hugged him. He hugged his son and held back his tears like it was the most beautiful moment he could ever dream of. He held John B like he was precious, and not to deny that he wasn’t, to me my brother was worth more than anything in the world, but to my dad, it was something more than that, and to me, it felt that way too.

Because dad never held me, his daughter, who cleaned his dishes, and covered his tracks, and lied, and stole, and cried out for him, for some peace. He never hugged me like that. Because he blamed me.

He blamed me for my mother leaving because unlike my mother, he could never love my brother and I the same. He couldn’t love two of something if he barely wanted one. He never hit me, but he was cold, calculated, cruel when he wanted to be.

That day, at just eight years old, I sat in the grass with dirt under my nails and heavy breaths wondering would it would be like to feel the warmth of my father. Would it solve all my problems or only tear me apart further.

Because maybe if I continued to never feel the embrace of the man who gave me life, it would be easier to disassociate and pretend that it didn’t hurt. Maybe it would be easier to not like him anymore, and the unbearable guilt I carried even as an eight year old, would go away finally.

I didn’t even realize that I wasn’t fighting Pope anymore, or how my gaze had drifted over to watch how tenderly my dad held onto my brother, because I couldn’t even feel the way tears burned into my skin in slow droplets that fell into my lap.

JJ hugged me then, and it felt special, I felt special, because I knew even at that age that affection was a rarity in my life, and JJ, as much as I knew he loved me, was not a physical person. Still, he held me from behind while Pope spewed out apologies, swearing on everything he believed that he hadn’t meant a word. I could tell that he too, felt confused because we had gone after each other multiple times and never had I broken down.

In that moment it felt like I had gained something more than a hug from my father, but a silent acceptance with my best friends. Because soon, even Pope shut up and looked to where JJ’s eyes were glued, and even as flustered as he had been, everyone who sat in the dirt that day understood that no words that were thrown around had ever hurt me, nor did they even reach me, because what had made me so inconsolable was the fact that my happy brother received all the praise while I laid out in the lawn, crying until I dry heaved, ignored by someone who I only ever wanted love from.

“It’s gonna be alright, Y/n/n.” JJ mumbled quietly into my ear, and for the first time, I didn’t believe a word he said.

“Dad, dad stop.” I defended myself for the first time when I was thirteen. I was only half his height and he was triple my age. I thought that somehow, if I stopped enabling his behavior, he would get better. He would see how much I cared and he would finally love me.

That was the first time dad yelled at me, really yelled at me.

My dad refused to lay a hand on me, so when my friends ask if I was ever abused, I tell them no because it feels laughable to compare my psychological trauma to the welts on their ribs when they barely escape home.

When JJ asks me whats wrong, why my eyes look so puffy in the afternoon, after I stumble out of the house in the same clothes as the night before, I tell him I didn’t get enough sleep, because how do you tell your best friend who has been climbing through my bedroom window since we were nine that my dad hurts me too, you just can’t see it.

Dad called me a liar and a psychopath when I told him he was hurting me. He told me that it wasn’t true because he loved my brother and I and he would never lay a hand on either of us, not then and not ever. Dad says that he deserves respect, that I’m only a kid and he’s the adult so I better start acting like it. He tells me that it’s like a switch went off in my head ever since I became a teenager and all of a sudden I can’t stand him. But that’s not true.

The truth was even at such a young age, I always knew I would lay my life on the line for my dad. He meant more to me than I could ever express, because to me, he was the man who hadn’t left, even when he was given all the right reasons to bail out. So, for years I tried to cover for him, clean up and take care of everyone to show him what I could never articulate into a phrase of my affection. Still, he preferred John B’s half hearted sentiment over anything I could give him.

I wished so deeply that I was born different, that I wasn’t me. Because maybe if I wasn’t the clone of my mother, maybe then my father would like me more.

I guess the worst part of it all is that I can never be sure if my father’s anger could have been my mother’s, only given to him in her absence. Would his hands have been hers as I grew older? Would her hugs turn into the white knuckles wrapped around my throat? And would her songs become the vile words my father threw at me in drunken rage?

Maybe if I kept hiding behind the cruelties of his excuses for the way I cowered around him, then John B wouldn’t have to live in the same sense of shock I have been stuck in for a decade.

Dad never laid a hand on me, but he didn’t have to. He didn’t have to touch me to kick me in the stomach, all he had to do was show me how he was capable of being a loving father, but never put me on the receiving end.

He found time for John B, even as he buried himself in his work, searching for some gold that seemed far away and unimportant. He locked himself away while I slid food under the door, and I watched as he kissed my brother’s forehead and bid him goodnight, leaving me to sleep on the couch.

Even as a thirteen year old girl, an age so tender and impressionable, I felt so much more mature than I should have. I felt the effects of neglect I couldn’t wish on anyone. In my self pity, even after he gave me every reason to turn on him, I couldn’t hate him, so I began to hate myself.

“Dad, when was the first time you felt love?” John B asked one night. For the first time in a long time, we were all lying in the living room. My brother hung over my dad’s lap and my head resting on the floor as I sank off of the old dusty beanbag.

Dad thought carefully, his large hands splayed out against my brother’s small back.

“The day you were born.” He answered thoughtfully, and I watched as my brother’s eyes lit up.

I had every right to scream, to beg for an answer because the little girl trapped inside of me didn’t deserve this kind of pain from her own blood. But I didn’t. I sniffled and sat up, storming out of the house that I wasn’t even sure I could call home. How foolish I felt for ever believing my dad would ever love us the same. How stupid I felt for thinking that my brother, who inherited our fathers name, would never be preferred over my mother’s child.

“Y/n Routledge, get back inside now!” Dad yelled, storming down the porch to catch me. But I had become good at slipping away, and neglectful parents raise angry children.

“Go to hell!” It was the first time I swore at my dad. Even I shocked myself, because it had never occurred to me that I could do that.

“Why do you have to ruin everything?” He asked me, and it made me want to laugh because when had I ever done anything to him that wasn’t in good faith? “Just like your mama! Storming off!” My dad cursed under his breath, not really bothering to chase after me. How easy would it have been for me to have ran away.

I could live under a tree, a big willow with drooping leaves and heavy branches. I could make friends with the squirrels and be a good mother to them, the mother I never had, but always dreamed of.

“My mama was a good woman!” I cried out, suddenly overwhelmed with my freshly made emotions, ones that felt too strong for a new teenage girl.

“You know nothing about her! She left, I’m the one who stayed!” Dad yelled, as if it wasn’t painfully obvious.

I did something I had never done before. In all of my life, not once had I ever blamed my dad for my mom leaving. Not even after I heard their fights from when I was no taller than the notches in the doorframes, and not after he began to spend his paychecks on alcohol instead of new shoes for John B and I. I never blamed him because he always blamed me, and if it made me feel so worthless, then how could I ever do that to him?

“I don’t blame her!” I fought back, tears burning my eyes almost as hard as the back of my throat stung. “And I don’t blame you.”

I couldn’t stay mad at dad for more than a few minutes. I couldn’t blame him, and I couldn’t lie and say I did when I didn’t. Dad didn’t say anything then, so I turned on my heels in the dirt and I stormed off.

That night, I knocked on JJ’s window. I was wearing an old Star Wars t-shirt that he once called nerdy and my rainbow pajama pants. I looked thirteen going on seven, my cupcake slippers caked in mud.

But JJ didn’t pull on my braids like my brother did when we fought, and he didn’t poke fun at my pants. He opened his window and leaned out, his messy blond hair and tired eyes adjusting to admire my face.

“Y/n/n? What happened? Why are you here?” He asked, and I could tell he sounded a little on edge. His dad used to be discreet about how he dealt with JJ, but after middle school had began, he stopped caring as JJ stuck around the same kids he grew up with. So, I stayed as quiet as possible, not wanting any trouble.

“I just missed you.” A lie. The first of many lies I would spew out to my best friend because I felt too awkward to confess my own feelings and burden him when he had it so much worse.

“Oh.” His face lit up slightly, and I could tell my words made him feel nice. “C’mon, I’ll help you in. Wouldn’t wanna lose a slipper.” He teased with a toothy grin, a smart ass from birth.

I playfully smacked his shoulder, holding my breath until my feet hit his dirty floors. He held onto my arms longer than he had to, and I wondered if he could feel my body shaking.

“Don’t make fun, okay? I like my slippers.” I smiled, blinking away the old tears that I cried on the way over, and pawing at the scrapes from the bushes I cut through to get to his house quicker.

“I would never!” He defended softly, his arms raised in a scouts honor. “Cross my heart, cupcake.”

Sometimes I wished that JJ and I were older, I thought about it often. It kept me awake after long fights with dad, that I would one day save up all the money I could scrape together and take JJ with me. We’d go around the globe, just me, him, and open ocean surrounding us, and only the scars on our skin and in our heads to remind us of the past. But we wouldn’t care, because we would be there for each other, and the ocean would wash away the evil men on the shore.

“I wish I had a more appreciative daughter!” Dad yelled at me as he packed up his things in a hurry, chasing yet another lead on his quest for the gold, a passion driven by his valiant greed.

It hurt, but it would have hurt me a lot more three years ago. At sixteen, his words meant nothing to me, because at sixteen, I had finally come to terms with the fact that my dad simply did not like me, and that was okay.

So instead of sitting in self pity, or swallowing myself whole in a another bottomless spiral of self hatred and depression, I finally found the spark that was burning so fiercely somewhere deep inside of me.

“Fuck you!” The second time I swore at dad. “Fuck you and all your promises to get better!” I stepped forward, crossing into his office, which I swore to never go in, not only because it reeked of him, but because it was only a reminder of how quickly he let mom go, and how quickly he shifted the blame onto me, an innocent infant with no real chance to do anything to anyone.

“Fuck me? Oh, fuck me? Your father? I have done everything for you! I have given you the chances my own parents couldn’t give me and you are so ungrateful! I pray for a day you wake up and see the damage you cause around here!” Dad spat, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck all your pride and fuck all your prayers!” I stepped closed again, and my knuckles pawed at his shirt desperately, my eyes looking up at my father, who stood ten times taller than me, or so it felt that way. “All this time I waited like a fool, because you’re my dad. Above anything else, before the treasure and before the alcoholic, you’re supposed to be my dad!”

“Are you drunk?” He asked. I wasn’t, but I might as well have been with how quickly my mind passed through emotions.

Here he was standing in front of me, and here I was already done processing all my grief. He wasn’t dead, I could feel each breath under the palms of my hands, yet for years it felt like walking next to a ghost with how absent and withdrawn he always was from my life.

“All I ever wanted was a father.” I told him softly. “Was that too much to ask?” I deserved to know, but I should have known better.

My dad was an asshole, and he always would be. It was in his fashion that he would brush right past me, unfeeling and lacking empathy for his own daughter.

I felt angry. Before, I felt betrayed, sad, even embarrassed by him, and by how easily I let him get away with all his faults simply because he was my father and if my brother loved him, then there had to be some good in him. But there wasn’t.

Here he was, walking out of my life, the keys to the car that I paid for in his hands, dangling just as carelessly as he was with my life. I don’t know why that set me off, but it had. I heard my feet slap against the floors before I felt myself moving.

“Give back my damn keys!” I caught up behind him, snatching the carabiner from his dirty knuckles and pushing him into the wall. He wouldn’t hit, but god, had he made me wish I could. “I paid off that loan it’s under my name!” I stuffed the clasp into my back pocket tightly.

“You wanna leave, thats fine. But you’re walking out of my life if you’re going!” I breathed out heavily, the frames on the wall rocking back and forth from the force he hit the wood with.

“What is wrong with you? Where’s my sweet little girl I used to love?” My knuckles loosened on his shirt again, but my elbows remained pressed into his stomach.

“Loved? Like you ever loved me. You couldn’t have, because you wouldn’t have taken it out on me. You wouldn’t have gotten rid of her existence in spite of me. You wouldn’t have tossed that damn chair, and you wouldn’t have burned the things she kept for me!” I wanted to cry, but more than that, I wanted him so see how exhausted I felt.

“All I wanted was a fucking father, John.”

“And you got one, and look at you, you’re a strong young woman now!” He laughed bitterly, fighting against my shaky hold. He could barely look at me. I wondered if he was asked, could he even tell a friend the color of my eyes? If I were to wash up on the shore, could he even report the body? Would my grave lay empty simply because he hadn’t known me for years, and he never would.

“I was a little girl! I was a little girl, and I still am! I’m sixteen, dad! Stop treating me like some type of problem when I’ve been nothing but great to you!” I cried this time, pushing him harder until the wood splintered and my arms gave out. We both stumbled away from each other.

“All I ever wanted was a father, but for the first time, finally I can see you are the leader of the landslide.” I scoffed pathetically, staring him down with a broken heart.

I deserved to smash all the plates in the house, to rip off all the wallpaper and spray paint the rotting white paint bright blue just in spite of my father. But even though he wasn’t kind to me, I couldn’t ignore how good of a dad he had been to John B, and more than anything I ever held close to me, I loved my brother dearly. I wiped my tears and let dad walk out on me. Neither of us said a word.

He clapped John B over the back when he got outside, promising to return soon, this time with the promise of an unpromising fortune. He swore that he loved my brother more than anything, called him by the nickname he earned long ago, and left without saying another word.

I watched wordlessly from the front steps.

We lost the gold. Once or twice. The gold we had found first was a slap to the face, but having the cross stolen right out from under us felt so much worse, especially with Pope being tied into it on such a deeper level.

We all sat around the first now, our bodies tucked close together like a perfectly woven blanket, arms tangled around each other and weak laughter echoing around the smokey fire. We didn’t have much left to fight for, but to me, I felt deeply that in a more important way, we had gotten the gold, and we had been filthy rich all along.

The gold we’d found couldn’t be measured on a scale and dealt between the seven of us evenly, but unmeasurable and sought after by anyone who understood. Because in the end, we still had each other, and to me, this was family.

JJ’s blonde hair tickled the top of my forehead. We sat close together on the low swinging hammock in the backyard. His arms wrapped around me tightly, and my legs thrown over his lap carelessly. We talked quietly with Kiara about the little things. We found alternatives to seek out her dreams of preserving the ecosystem and to swim with the turtles.

It all felt so real, so domestic for a group of friends who were always running from something. It felt like the first time in a while I had time to stop and catch my breath.

“What are you thinking about, cupcake?” The nickname rolled nicely off the tongue, his crooked smile endearing to me, and his eyes sweeter than any doe I’d ever encountered.

I sighed contently, cuddling closer to the boy and soaking up his warmth greedily. Though we both never said it would loud, it always felt nice to share close proximity with someone we trusted so deeply. To feel affection for someone when we had grown up scarcely to it.

Dad had been dead for nearly two years now, and the truth was, I wasn’t sixteen anymore. I wasn’t the sad little thirteen year old who hated herself more than anyone else, who climbed through the blondes window at midnight in her muddy slippers, and I wasn’t the timid toddler who could barely walk without tripping on her blanket she dragged around everywhere for a pathetic kind of comfort.

John B took it hard at first. I wanted so desperately to tell him everything. He was my older brother after all, but most days now I felt like it was my job to look out for him. It always had been. He was my brother and I would never have let him suffer, but sometimes it was hard not to wish for once I could selfishly struggle openly and degrade the man he saw as his hero.

It would be wrong for me to taint that image of a dead man, a man I still believed John B was openly grieving, even if he said he was okay now. You are never okay after losing someone like that, no matter how evil, and I think he forgets that he was still my father, even if he never saw us in the same context as he saw him.

“Thinking about how comfortable you are.” I mumbled, stretching my limbs out tiredly along his tanned skin. I laid like a lap dog on his chest, my head tucked under his chin and my hands playing with the rough fabric of his dirty t-shirt.

“Not about John B?” He prodded quietly. JJ always knew when the wheels in my head were turning, just like I could always tell when something was wrong. It was like our super powers, to know each other so well we couldn’t hide anything.

“He’ll come back, he wouldn’t leave you.” He assured softly, his fingers dancing gently along my curved spine. It felt like oddly in times like these, the calm after the storms, that it truly would always be just JJ and I against the world. Like we were the only two people who truly understood each other, through the laughter and under the deepest scars littering our skin.

“I know. He’s my brother, he wouldn’t do that.” I agreed, and just as I was about to let the serenity of the lazy swinging of the hammock lull me into a sleepy haze, the crunching of boots on leaves alerted me elsewhere.

There he stood, his clothes still grimy from the tropical heat and wet mud from Barbados. His hair was stuck to his forehead in the same curl pattern from a few days ago, but the deep rooted brunette seemed to become a shade of dirty blonde from all the harsh sun. His skin was tanned and covered in sweat, but he was still my brother, and he had finally come home.

I sat up quickly from JJ’s arms, pushing off of his chest with so much force, I felt him bend at the waist and let out a puff of air. I shouted an apology before wrapping my brother in a bone crushing hug, relief filling my stomach and the unease dispersing finally.

“Where have you been!” I pushed him away with a smile, I didn’t even notice the seriousness in his gaze as he called out for me softly.

“Are you crazy? Staying behind like that in a foreign country?” I laughed breathlessly, my eyes searching his face and settling on his lack of a smile.

“Y/n/n.” He called out again softly.

“What? Whats wrong?” I breathed out, my smile fading slightly into a dimmer smirk, confidence slipping from my face into a deep furrow between my brows.

“John B, what happened? Did someone hurt you…d-did-“ My happy touch became a panicked grip on his clothes, my knuckles white and face pale as I searched for answers.

“Y/n.” He cooed calmly, the ease between his eyes and brows calming the pace of my breath. “I found him.” He said with a soft smile.

“What?” I breathed out. “Who?”

I racked my brain for answers, mulling over every possible explanation for what could have made me stay behind, leave behind all the good that had surrounded him for the past few years, and the good that would continue to grow with him.

“Don’t tell me you forgot your own dad?” An old voice called out from behind the brush, long greasy hair and an un-groomed bears covering a good portion of his old face. From his glasses alone I could see who it was, never mind the voice that often haunted me even in my sleep, the ghostly presence that lingered even as I slept on my own.

He was a poltergeist haunting my life, torturing my soul until I bled out completely blue. Had the punishment of forcing a child to clean up his mess for over a decade not been enough karma for all the bad I hadn’t done yet? Would I forever be stuck in the broken glass of his aftermath? How much longer would I have to hide behind the shell of who I once was just to please those who don’t yet know about who I am, of who I could have become?

I decided then I couldn’t do it, and I let go of my brother, and I let go of my pride.

“No.” I spoke softly, looking between the boys. John B looked more and more like dad every day.

I watched my brother’s face crumble in confusion, my heels dragging against the dirt, I backed away like a scared dog, mo longer the eager retriever with a bird at the door. My tail was between my legs.

“Y/n/n, it’s dad!” John B gestured like it would click for me, but that was not my father. Maybe by blood, but he would never be more than that to me, just evidence that linked me back to John B.

“No, I-I can’t.” I tried to explain through staggering breaths, choking out my words like tranquilized venom.

“I know it’s a lot, but everything’s going to be the way it was.”

My back hit JJ’s chest, and for the first time in the last few seconds, the ringing that blocked out my brothers bargaining seemed to fall deaf on my ears, and all I could hear was the sound of my heart beat dying in my chest.

“No, you don’t get it.” I cried out, though my eyes felt dry. “You don’t get it and you never will!” I begged silently for him to see the way the spark seemed to die as soon as dad came back, the way that my shoulders slumped and the confident young woman I had become faded back into the teenage daughter who wished for nothing more than to run far away from here.

“Y/n, come on, don’t be like this.” Dad tried to reason, like it was his say to decide how I would handle his return, like he could decide when I stopped feeling the effects of his abuse, because that was a word I had learned to call it, because that is what it was. Abuse.

“How dare you!” I shouted, anger making my skin hot. I felt queasy, like the world was crashing down on me, betrayal hot on my face. He didn’t know, my brother didn’t know because I protected him from it.

Couldn’t he ever notice how much happier I seemed after dad left? How I finally started living for the moments between us instead of for the times when I could go to sleep, where I could quietly call out for our mother who I didn’t know.

JJ knew, of course he knew. He knew by the time dad left. I’d confessed it all in a drunken ramble in the backyard after he commented on how happy I seemed, and though I laughed when I told him, neither of us found it funny. He apologized for making me feel like my problems were minuscule compared to his, but I assured him it was my own self doubt, and never his own actions. Neglectful parents raise insecure kids.

So if my best friend had known, if he could see just how happy I was without the burden of my father’s blame, how could my other half not see it? My own DNA? It led me to believe he was neglectful of me in his own ways, pushing aside the obvious signs of my own struggle just for his own benefit, for the gain of a relationship with the father that severed ours long ago.

“How dare you come back here after all the shit you put me through!” I cried, and I hit him. I hit him in the chest and I watched as he kept his ground, his shoes not even sliding against the mud. I had grown weaker without his constant fighting, and it showed in just how quickly the flame flickered out.

“How dare you come back and expect me to just be okay with it when all you’ve given me is years of therapy that I can’t afford!” I hit him in the jaw, and this time, I felt a pair of arms pull me away, my hot tears burning their tan skin. I kicked and I screamed, and my brother dragged me off until I couldn’t reach him anymore.

“You’re a piece of shit! I owe you nothing!” I pointed at him, staring him down as he rubbed the quickly blossoming bruise on his skin, his beard covering the welt almost entirely. The mark didn’t make me feel better at all, and instead, I only felt more pathetic.

“I gave you everything!” My limbs fell limp, all fight leaving my body as my tired joints ached, my head falling onto JJ’s shoulder. The boys passed me off like some kind of child, and looking at the man who tormented me my entire youth, I felt just like the timid child once again, like all my growth meant nothing.

The bright moon was replaced with the yellow glow of the kitchen lights, clouds traded in for floral curtains that hung crooked over the windows, and the cool grass fading into hard wood beneath my feet.

“Y/n, hey…” JJ cooed, his hands brushing against my shoulders.

“I just…fuck…I couldn’t do it. I don’t know why I hit him, I don’t know, I just-“

“Y/n, cupcake, hey, baby,” he called for me again, a plethora of nicknames tumbling from his lips that I had never heard him call me before, but all that held a genuine affection in them. I stopped my senseless rambling at the tenderness of his touch and softness in his voice.

“It’s okay to not be okay.” He affirmed quietly. “You earned your anger, it’s okay.”

I nodded, my gaze drifting from just beyond his shoulder were my brother stood dumbfounded with my father, looking at him with a mix of question and anger towards the man that he once saw with stars in his eyes.

“Jay, I don’t know what to do.” I confessed quietly, feeling like we were ten again, sharing secrets through a game of telephone, just the two of us stuffed in the corner of my bedroom at midnight, my father unaware that the blonde was still in the house, let alone snuck in my room.

“That’s okay.” He nodded again, and this time his palms molded against the apples of my cheeks, thumbs brushing away my stale tears.

“It’s gonna be okay, we can run, or we can stay and kick him out, or we can do nothing.” I focused on the way he said each option with the use of we, because in our minds, we always escaped hell together.

“Can we just stay here for a little longer?” My eyes found his, and I saw the way his flickered down in a way that felt too intimate for just best friends.

“We can do whatever we want, it’s you and me against the universe, cupcake, and we’re winning it.” He promised.

And just as I always had, I believed every word he said.