boxxing-flavored

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Guys what should I write next

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Yummy

Plump and delicious 😋

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Part six of oil and water

Sevika was still here.

The shop had called a few days ago, something about parts being delayed. Another week stuck in this town, in this house, on this damn ranch.

At first, you figured she’d be miserable.

Sevika wasn’t built for country life. She was a city woman through and through, all sharp edges and expensive clothes, moving like she had a schedule to keep even though there wasn’t a skyscraper or a subway station for miles. She hated the food you made because it was “too greasy,” scoffed at the way you drank your coffee “You ever heard of an espresso machine, cowgirl?” and flat-out refused to ride your horses ever again.

“Im not getting back on that damn animal,” she said, arms crossed, one brow raised. “I drive a BMW for a reason.”

“You don’t got it right now.”

Sevika smirked. “And I still won’t get on that horse.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny it, she was different from anyone around here. She dressed way too nice, her slacks and crisp button-ups completely out of place for the dust and sweat of your daily routine. She carried herself with that city confidence, shoulders squared, gaze steady, like she was always in control. Like nothing surprised her.

Meanwhile, you-…

Well, you were still just you.

Boots, jeans, and calloused hands.

You weren’t much for talking, let alone flirting, but Sevika? She was too good at it. And worse? She knew it.

“Damn, cowgirl,” she had said one day, as she noticed you staring. She leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. “Are you checking me out me out?”

Your whole body burned. “I was not.”

She just grinned. Cocky and Smug. Like she knew something you didn’t. “Sure.”

And it only got worse from there.

Sevika made everything into a game.

When she caught you staring too long, she’d lean in just a little closer, flashing that infuriating smirk. When she sat at your table, she’d stretch out her legs just enough to nudge yours, her eyes dark with amusement when you stiffened.

It was all in play, all harmless.

But you weren’t used to this.

You weren’t used to a woman looking at you like that, like she was testing you, waiting to see if you’d flinch.

And damn it, sometimes you did.

Like when you both went into town and Sevika, dressed in her usual dress slacks and button up, leaned against her truck, arms folded, watching you with that lazy, knowing smile.

“You really walk around like that every day?” she asked, nodding at your jeans and dust-covered boots.

You scoffed. “What, you expect me to dress like you? Ain’t exactly practical to be fixin’ fences in slacks.”

Sevika grinned. ���Bet you’d clean up nice.”

Your throat went dry.

She loved getting under your skin.

And yet… you let her.

Because the more time you spent around her, the harder it was to ignore the fact that she was smart. She had a sharp mind, always picking apart problems before you even had the chance to explain them. She was strong, too she had no issue helping you haul feed, and when she rolled up her sleeves to help fix your tractor, her forearms flexed in a way that made something in your stomach flip.

And worst of all?

She was comfortable in herself in a way you weren’t.

She had nothing to prove. Nothing to be ashamed of.

And you

You were still trying to figure out why you felt the way you did when she looked at you like that.

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Abby x ex lover now enemy reader

Tw: fighting, blood…idk

The rain came down in streets of a once bustling city, soaking you both to the bone, turning the alley into a dark battleground. Your knife gleamed under the dim streetlight, stained red with Abby’s blood,

The cuts weren’t enough to be fatal but certainly enough to be a pain in the ass.

She rolled her shoulder, barely reacting to the wound on her arm. “Still relying on weapons to make up for your size?” Her voice rough with exhaustion.

You twirled the blade between your fingers. “Still relying on brute force to make up for any skill?”

Abby’s jaw tightened. “Always had a mouth on you.”

“Yeah?” You smirked. “Guess you’d know.”

That was the last push.

She moved like lightning, her body a force of nature. You barely dodged, twisting away from the blow meant to knock you flat. Your knife flashed in the moonlight, aiming for her side, but she was already anticipating it. Instead of dodging she surged forward, grabbing your wrist and slamming you into an old building behind you.

The knife went clattering to the ground.

“Too slow,” Abby muttered, her breath hot against your rain-slicked skin.

You snarled, twisting in her grip, small enough to slip free. She swung, just a little too late but her knuckles still grazed the side of your cheek. You barely felt it. You were already moving, driving your elbow into her ribs, making her stumble back a step.

You didn’t stop. You lunged, grabbing her by the front of her shirt and using her own momentum against her. She wasn’t expecting it. wasn’t expecting you to be that vicious. You shoved her back hard, sending her staggering against the opposite wall.

And that was when you struck.

Your fist connected with her mouth, knuckles splitting her lip wide open. Abby’s head snapped to the side, blood spilling down her chin, mixing with the rain.

For a second, she just stood there, breathing hard, tongue swiping over the wound. Then she turned back to you, her eyes dark, pupils blown wide, something unreadable twisting in her expression.

And then she laughed.

Low and breathless, like she couldn’t believe you’d actually done it.

You didn’t move. Neither did she.

The storm raged around you, and still, neither of you spoke. The tension was suffocating thick, electric, something old and rotten clawing its way up between you.

Then you stepped closer.

Slowly, deliberately, you reached up, brushing your thumb across her bleeding lip. Abby didn’t stop you. She just watched, breathing shallow, her body still coiled tight like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to throw you to the ground or pull you closer.

You dragged your thumb to smear the blood across her cheek. The sight of it made something dark curl in your stomach.

“There,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Now you look pretty.”

Her eyes search yours before she grabs you by the jaw and kisses you.

It was vicious, with teeth and blood, her mouth devouring yours like she wanted to tear you apart from the inside out. Your back hit the wall again, her hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise. You bit down on her already split lip, and she groaned, the sound guttural, like it wasn’t pain she was feeling but something worse. Something neither of you wanted to name.

Your fingers tangled in her hair pulling just hard enough to make her groan. nails raking down her arms as she shoved her thigh between your legs, pressing herself closer to you. Her blood smeared between you, hot and wet and staining, and you could taste it on your tongue.

It wasn’t love. It was never love.

But it was something, something twisted and raw and sick, something you both hated but couldn’t let go of.

And tonight, that was enough.

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Holy shit 750 likes!! Tysm!!

This has been on my mind for a week now and I just cannot let it go so imma just post it.

You: groggy “Ugh… what happened last night?”

Sevika: “You got drunk.”

You: “Yeah, I figured. Did I uh.. do anything stupid?”

Sevika: deadpan “You spent ten minutes cradling my prosthetic arm like a baby and whispering, ‘Shhh, Mama’s here’.”

You: “…Oh god.”

Sevika: “Then you got mad at me for “not supporting our child’s dreams” when I tried to take it back.”

You: burying face in hands “Please tell me you stopped me.”

Sevika: takes a sip of coffee “No, I told you to put it to bed. You tucked it under a blanket and kissed it goodnight.”

You: muffled scream into hands

Sevika: smirking “And then you cried about it growing up too fast.”

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Her smirk ouuuu I wanna put a baby in her 😻

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Part 5 of oil and water

You had always thought of yourself as someone who knew exactly who she was.

Your whole life had been spent in this town, on this land, doing the same work your folks did. You knew the land like the back of your hand, knew every stretch of the dirt road, every face at Sunday service, every rule that wasn’t necessarily spoken but was still expected.

And you damn sure knew what was and wasn’t… proper.

Yet here you were, mind spiraling, stomach twisting over something you refused to put a name to.

Because ever since this morning, ever since that damn accident in the bathroom, you hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was wrong. It was stupid. You were acting stupid.

And yet-

She smelled so good.

That thought alone had been plaguing you worse than anything else.

Sevika wasn’t the kind of woman who doused herself in perfume, but there was something about her scent that stuck with you. something dark and sharp, clean but undeniably masculine. Probably some expensive cologne from the city.

You had caught a whiff of it when she walked past you in the kitchen earlier, you had stiffened so suddenly that Bandit tilted his head at you like you’d lost your mind.

And maybe you had.

Because now, every little thing about her stood out to you in ways it hadn’t before.

The way her voice dropped into a low, in the mornings before her first sip of coffee. The way she rolled up her sleeves revealing strong forearms. The way she leaned back in a chair when she talked, being so damn sure of herself in a way that made you… want to listen.

And worst of all, the way she wasn’t trying to impress you. City folk usually had something to prove when they came through here. But Sevika? She didn’t care.

And that should’ve annoyed you.

Instead, it did the opposite.

“Why the hell are you staring at me like that?”

Your brain short-circuited at being called out.

It was late afternoon, the two of you sitting on the porch, sipping on cold drinks after a long morning. You had been sneaking glances at her without meaning to, and apparently, you had gotten caught.

You immediately stiffened, looking away. “Ain’t lookin’ at you any type of way.”

Sevika huffed out a chuckle. “Sure you’re not”

You scowled, gripping your glass a little tighter. “Just thinkin’, is all.”

“Thinkin’ about what?”

How she smell like sin and bad decisions.

You cleared your throat. “Nothin’ important.”

Sevika exhaled through her nose, stretching her legs out in front of her. “You always get this weird when you think?”

“I ain’t weird.”

“You’re something.”

You shot her a glare, but she wasn’t even looking at you, just watching the sun dip lower in the sky.

You wanted to be irritated.

But instead, all you could focus on was the way the last light of the day cast shadows across her jaw, the way the fading warmth made the sharp cut of her features even more unfairly attractive.

Damn it.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look anywhere but at her.

“You ever gonna tell me what you actually do for work?” you asked, desperate to change the subject.

Sevika raised a brow. “I already told you. Business.”

“Yeah, but that don’t mean shit.”

She let out a low chuckle, the kind that made the hair on your arms stand up. “I handle people’s money. Investments, properties, that kind of thing.”

“So, you’re some rich city broker type?”

“Something like that.”

You tried to picture her in a suit, sitting in some high-rise office with a glass of whiskey in her hand, and for some reason, it didn’t feel that far off.

But then you thought about the way she carried herself like someone who had been through some shit.

And you realized there was a lot about her you still didn’t know.

You tilting your head. “And you just… travel for it?”

Sevika rolled her shoulder in a half-shrug. “Sometimes. Other times, I just need to get the hell outta the city for a while.”

Something about the way she said it made you pause.

“You don’t like where you live?”

She let out a slow breath, swirling the last of her drink. “Chicago ain’t exactly paradise.”

You thought about the stories you’d heard about that city—about the crime, the corruption, the kind of shit that would probably chew up someone like you and spit you out.

“… You grow up there?”

Sevika gave a slow nod. “Born and raised.”

“Huh.” You took a sip of your drink, thinking. “That why you’re so good at dealin’ with people who don’t like you?”

At that, Sevika actually laughed.

It was a rough, real laugh, the kind that made something in your chest tighten in a way you didn’t understand.

She shook her head, smirking. “Yeah I guess so”

You stared at her for a second too long before snapping yourself out of it.

Because this? This wasn’t normal. You weren’t normal.

You had grown up around the kind of men who talked about women like they were the only thing worth lookin’ at. And you had never once cared enough to feel the way they did.

You always figured you just hadn’t met the right one yet.

But now, sitting here, looking at her, feeling that strange, twisting heat in your stomach every time she so much as looked your way

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Right?

[boxxing-flavored]

not all ships are For wanting them to be in a happy healthy relationship together. sometimes shipping two characters means you want them to be erotically obsessed with each other and become entwined in a mutually toxic love affair for a few months and then horrifically break each other's hearts and never speak again. sometimes you want them to be codependent best friends with enough repression to explode a submarine who only make out/have sex when they're at their worst. sometimes you want them to pine after each other for years, never say anything, and then die. sometimes you want them to kill each other. this, too, is shipping

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I don’t have to go to work today, you know what that means! More time to write and revise!

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You knew Abby was drunk when she leaned against the bar, arms crossed over her chest, swaying just a little. But what really gave it away was the way she was looking at you like she’d just seen you for the first time, like she hadn’t spent months pressing lazy kisses to your neck and pulling you into bed just to tangle herself around you.

And then, she smirked. Slow. Cocky. “You got a name, sweetheart?” she drawled. You exhaled through your nose. “Abby-” She shook her head, brows furrowing like you were the problem here. “No, see, that’s not what I asked.” She jabbed a finger toward you, nearly toppling over in the process. “I asked if you got a name.”

You stared at her. Unbelievable.

“Abby,” you said, slowly, “we have been dating for months.” Her lips parted slightly. She blinked. Then, after a long pause, she grinned. “Really? You sighed. “Yes, really.” “Damn.” She nodded, as if genuinely impressed with herself. “Lucky me.”

You moved to pull her off the stool, but the second you touched her she grabbed the bar and refused to move. “Nope,” she muttered. “Not done yet.”

“Abby, you’re wasted.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re slurring.”

“No, you’re slurring.”

“Oh my God ab-“

Before you could finish, Abby’s hands found your waist, and suddenly, you were pulled flush against her, trapped between her legs. Her breath was warm, her fingers gripping your hips like she needed to keep you there.bShe smirked up at you. “You single?” Your patience was hanging on by a thread. “No.” She seemed to deflate right there, a pout appearing on her face. “Damn shame.” She paused. Then, softer, “Your boyfriend around?”

You stared at her.

Then you grabbed her face, squishing her cheeks together. “You. Are. My. Girlfriend.” Abby blinked, pouting through her squished lips. Then her eyes lit up. “Holy shit,” she mumbled. “I got a girlfriend? She hot?” You groaned, trying to pry her hands off of you. “I’m leaving you here.”

“No, no, no, wait-c’mere.” She tugged you right back in, arms tightening around your waist. “Lemme try again.” You sighed. “Try what again?” Her smirk was slow, deliberate, voice thick with whiskey and so much confidence for someone who was barely upright. “Pickin’ you up.”

You crossed your arms. “Fine. Impress me.”

Abby rolled her shoulders, like she was prepping for a fight, and sat up a little straighter. She took a deep breath, focused all of her drunk little brain cells and immediately slurred, “You got a name, sweetheart?”

You groaned, shoving her face away as she laughed, completely shameless.

[boxxing-flavored]

I’ve already written it. I’m just trying to decide if I should post it or not.

[boxxing-flavored]

Part 4 of oil and water

The morning came slow, sunlight filtering through the curtains in hazy streaks of gold. You stretched, muscles stiff from a night of deep sleep, and rubbed the last remnants of it from your eyes.

Bandit was already up, tail wagging lazily as he watched you shuffle out of bed. You scratched behind his ears before heading toward the bathroom, still half-asleep.

The farmhouse had been quiet all night. You’d figured Sevika was still sleeping off the whiskey, and you weren’t in any rush to wake her. Hell, you weren’t even sure what kind of morning person she was if she was the brooding, silent type or the kind that needed three cups of coffee before speaking in full sentences.

Didn’t matter much. You just needed a shower before getting started with the day.

Except when you pushed the bathroom door open without thinking

You were met with the distinct sight of bare, damp skin and a whole lot of muscle.

Sevika froze, one hand gripping the towel she had barely finished wrapping around her waist, steam curling around her from the hot water. Her wet undercut dripped onto her shoulders, water running down in slow, lazy trails that did nothing to distract from just how built she actually was.

And suddenly, your brain short-circuited.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

Sevika’s scarred brow lifted, expression caught between irritation and mild amusement. “You gonna stand there, or…?”

“Oh, shit-sorry,” you blurted, spinning around so fast you nearly tripped over yourself.

You slammed the door shut behind you, heat rushing to your face.

Holy hell.

You had known she was strong you weren’t blind, but you hadn’t really seen her before. Not like that. Broad shoulders, defined abs, the deep lines of muscle that trailed down beneath the towel…

No. Nope. You were not thinking about this.

You exhaled sharply, pressing your hands to your burning face. Get a grip.

It wasn’t a big deal. You had just walked in at the wrong time. That was it.

Right?

But for the rest of the day, it was impossible to forget. Every time you caught a glimpse of Sevika—rolling her sleeves up to her elbows, stretching in the morning sun, even just existing in the same space as you-your mind kept going back to that moment.

And you hated it.

Because Sevika wasn’t just some city girl passing through—she was a woman who stuck out like a sore thumb in your small town, a woman who was damn near impossible to read, a woman who had clearly been through some shit.

And she was also divorced—which meant she had been in love before, had a life before, and probably wasn’t interested in anything beyond getting the hell out of here.

Which meant whatever the hell this feeling was, it didn’t matter.

You just had to ignore it.

Easier said than done.

[boxxing-flavored]

My illegal movie site lied to me, there are no milfs in my area who are excited to meet me. Trust me I looked.

[boxxing-flavored]

Just found my fanfic journal from high school, it’s absolutely atrocious, perhaps I can salvage some of them and post it here…

[boxxing-flavored]

This has been on my mind for a week now and I just cannot let it go so imma just post it.

You: groggy “Ugh… what happened last night?”

Sevika: “You got drunk.”

You: “Yeah, I figured. Did I uh.. do anything stupid?”

Sevika: deadpan “You spent ten minutes cradling my prosthetic arm like a baby and whispering, ‘Shhh, Mama’s here’.”

You: “…Oh god.”

Sevika: “Then you got mad at me for “not supporting our child’s dreams” when I tried to take it back.”

You: burying face in hands “Please tell me you stopped me.”

Sevika: takes a sip of coffee “No, I told you to put it to bed. You tucked it under a blanket and kissed it goodnight.”

You: muffled scream into hands

Sevika: smirking “And then you cried about it growing up too fast.”

[boxxing-flavored]

Part 3 of oil and water

I did not edit this so… yeah

The whiskey burned smooth, warming Sevika’s chest as she rolled the glass between her fingers. The silence between you both wasn’t uncomfortable, it seemed natural.

You sat across from her at the worn table, one boot kicking up against the other chair as look into your own glass. The porch light outside cast soft shadows across the room, flickering as moths danced against the bulb.

“You travel for work a lot?” you asked, breaking the silence

Sevika shrugged. “Comes with the job.”

You nodded like that made sense, but she saw the way your eyes flicked over her—the fitted button-down, the expensive watch, the way she carried herself. You were still trying to figure her out.

“You married?”

Sevika scoffed before she could stop herself. “Not anymore.”

That made you pause, eyebrows lifting. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” she said, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. “Divorced.”

You let out a low whistle. “Damn. That why you’re always on the road?”

“Part of it.”

There was a beat of silence. She could feel you watching her, like you wanted to ask more but weren’t sure if you should.

Then, with a teasing smirk, you asked, “What kind of man was able to tie you down?”

Sevika huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “She, she was the the stubborn kind.”

“Figures,” you mused, taking a sip of your drink.

For a moment, the conversation felt easy. But then she saw it—the flicker of realization in your eyes as you processed what she had said.

She had corrected you ‘she’

Sevika felt the shift before you even opened your mouth. A slight stiffening of your shoulders, the way your fingers tapped once against the table before going still. It was subtle, but she caught it.

You stared at her, just a second too long.

“You were married to a woman?”

Sevika exhaled through her nose, setting her drink down with a soft clink. Here we go.

“Yeah,” she said, meeting your eyes evenly. “That a problem?”

You blinked, mouth opening, then closing again, as if you weren’t sure how to answer.

Sevika had seen this before. Felt it before.

She knew exactly where she was. A place where people like her weren’t exactly welcomed with open arms. She thought about the town, the way people had looked at her, the quiet disapproval that lingered in the air. And now, here you were, sitting across from her, staring like she’d just told you she worshiped the devil.

She tensed, waiting for it. The judgment. The distance. The polite way people around here might suddenly decide she wasn’t worth talking to.

But instead, you just… leaned back in your chair, rubbing your chin thoughtfully.

“Huh.”

That was it?

Sevika narrowed her eyes. “‘Huh’?”

You shrugged, lips pressing together like you were trying to find the right words. “I mean… I ain’t gonna lie, that’s not what I expected.”

Sevika scoffed, pushing back in her seat. “Yeah, I gathered that much.”

You held up your hands, defensive but amused. “Not in a bad way. Just—y’know. Around here, you don’t meet many…” You hesitated, searching for the least offensive way to put it.

Sevika arched a brow, daring you to finish that sentence.

You sighed. “Look, I ain’t gonna pretend like I was raised in some progressive paradise. Around here, folks see things one way, and that’s just how it’s always been.”

Sevika rolled her eyes. “That’s a fancy way of saying ‘people here don’t like people like me.’”

You went quiet for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. Some don’t.”

Sevika huffed, shaking her head. “Figures.”

“But I ain’t one of ‘em,” you added, voice softer now.

That made her pause.

You leaned forward, resting your forearms on the table, eyes steady on hers. “I ain’t gonna lie—I ain’t used to this. But that don’t mean I got a problem with it.”

Sevika studied you for a long moment, trying to figure out if you were just saying what she wanted to hear. But your expression was open, honest in a way that felt real.

It wasn’t the kind of blind acceptance she was used to from the city, where people didn’t give a damn about anything but their own business. No, this was different. This was a choice. A real-time adjustment of what you thought you knew, a slow untangling of the way you were raised.

That was something Sevika could respect.

She exhaled, picking up her drink again. “Guess there’s hope for you country folk after all.”

You smirked. “Guess so.”

And just like that, the tension eased. The night stretched on, the drinks got lower, and by the time the conversation had drifted to easier topics, Sevika realized something surprising.

Maybe getting stuck out here in the middle of nowhere could be good… but probably not.