#like they never really fully match up to me but sometimes they come really close and it makes me kinda lose my mind

[cherrieguroo]

you ever just hear about some mental thing and go "oh i relate to that a lot lol" and then it haunts you for the rest of your life because the more you hear about it the more it feels like you've felt that before but you can't just assume you have it so instead you just keep it in the back of your mind

[platinumshawnn]

to strangers | benjicot blackwood x fem!bracken reader

a/n: yes i am fully aware i should be writing him as davos out of respect for the accuracy of the show and character but i'm still mourning what could have been. also leave it to me to write a little prequel tying this to my own fic a little bit by writing what this guy was really up to on his "hunting trip" lol. have some poorly written smut anyways, if anyone sees that I accidentally called the bracken’s estate “hedge stone” instead of “stone hedge” no you didn’t shut up it’s been fixed

synopsis: benjicot likes to rile up the women he likes i guess

Content warnings: MDNI — 18+, adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism, smut (fem p in v sex, unprotected sex, degradation) [not proofread]

Word count: 5.5k words

you had never been one for conflict — especially not that of drunken councilmen who became red in the face, knocking over cups and irate over matters of politics as they shouted. despite your father’s efforts to maintain diplomacy and restraint during meetings, it almost always ended in a screaming match at the table these days — even your uncle could not bear to sit through them, and often doubled up on the amount he drank just to sit through them, barely able to walk as he stumbled out.

you were almost always met with apologies from your father as he found you outside the doors of the hall, given a squeeze of hand, and ushered to bed. you did not care for politics, but there was no escaping the recent events — it affected everyone, reaching beyond stone hedge’s walls, but your father the most. he appeared to have aged significantly over the past days, eyes exhausted and on edge whenever she greeted him.

but this particular night had been…a lot more than usual. your cousin, aeron, had come back, shaking as he’d returned from a survey of the lands with your brother; having got into another squabble over the boundaries with some blackwood boys who had dared to come too close to their land, in aeron’s words. the whole thing dripped of theatrics — “that filthy…cunt, benjicot”

your head popped up from the handkerchief you were working to embroider, your mother on your right as the pair of you sat in one of the several cabinet rooms that your father had designated for your lessons as a child; having since used it as an escape from the noise. even your mother had been alerted by the commotion as the boys clamored into the hallway, looking out through the door that had been cracked open to provide some airflow in the room. there, your cousin stood, his nose bloody and still dripping as your father summoned the maester while ranting to your uncle, attempting to shush the boy-knight who was on the border of shouting. your interest was only peaked by the name, sitting up and turning your body towards the three men, ceasing what you had been doing and placing the handkerchief in your lap to listen.

your father had made eye contact with you as aeron continued, grabbing him by the shoulder and reaching to close the door before you could hear as he dragged your cousin away. your mother had encouraged you to continue, the look she gave reminding you of proprietary and of your place — with a curt nod, you had returned to your task.

that had been at midday, and since then, there had not yet been a break. you could hear the shouts from your room, and you could picture your father amidst it all, trying to bring order and peace — a task he was successful in every so often, silence falling over the room and quieting to hushed whispers that would only last a short time before the yelling continued.

sometime before midnight, the silence had ended finally, stood at the top of the stairs as the councilmen dispersed; other members of your house trickled out. you had stayed up, waiting to approach your father, in hopes to get some sort of information on the outcome. but the exhaustion was clear on his face, being met by a soft, “on the morrow, not tonight, my dear.”

he had pressed a kiss to your head and brushed past you, receding to his chambers for the night, leaving you at the base of the stairs. as you went to retreat to bed yourself, you heard the cursing mutters of aeron who had finally exited the great hall doors behind you, still seething after several hours — you were relieved at least to find that his nose had since stopped bleeding.

“aeron,” you called out, turning to descend down the four stairs you had climbed just as he stopped in the hallway towards his own chambers. his eyes found you. you approached him, hand reaching out to grab his face between your fingers, turning to assess his face for any additional injuries you may not have noticed earlier in the day. however, much to your relief, he was otherwise unharmed, “you really ought to stop antagonizing those men— you’re going to get yourself killed.” you scolded, sighing and dropping your hand.

aeron winced slightly, more from the reprimand than any lingering pain. “I can’t just let them insult our family, you know that.”

you shook her head, a mix of frustration and concern in your eyes. “I know, aeron, but there’s a difference between defending our honor and looking for trouble. what good will it do if you’re dead?”

He avoided your gaze, jaw clenching. “I just can’t stand the way they look at us, like we’re nothing and like they can do whatever it is they please. Like they own the riverlands. someone has to stand up to them if your father won’t.”

“standing up to them doesn’t mean getting into brawls. use your head, aeron. we need you alive, not battered and bruised,” you said, your tone softening.

aeron had sighed and muttered something unintelligible, only able to make out a ‘yeah’ before he withdrew to his own rooms.

you had tried to sleep — you did. but at some point, the heat, humid and sticky, had made it impossible to; instead, turning and tossing in your bed, growing increasingly frustrated before you stormed from the bed with a huff. the conversation between you and aeron had been stuck in your head, the sight of him bloodied haunting you — how did benjicot look then? was he unscathed and unharmed?

you knew he had always been stronger, a fiercer opponent but you couldn’t help the worry that plagued you.

you had quickly changed as best you could in the dark, without falling over in a way that would alert the guards; pulling your dress on and watching underneath the door as you smoothed out the fabric, doing your best to be silent in opening the door. peaking your head out and checking that both ways were clear, you slipped out and closed the door behind you, walking on your toes as you snuck through the house and out a backdoor that led into the fields.

you did your best to stay low and out of sight as you bolted through the fields towards the boundary stones, trying to remember who would be on surveillance — you couldn’t for the life of you remember, despite your best efforts to eavesdrop on your cousin's conversation earlier.

hell, you weren’t even sure you would see him.

sometimes you did, other times you didn’t — weeks would pass sometimes before you saw him again. sometimes it was hours before you saw him, sat, pulling at grass as you waited, knees to your chest.

today felt like one of those days, as you approached the river, out of sight from any prying eyes and sat by the edge, your eyes straining to see through the dark. the moon did little to penetrate the dense patch of trees. as the hours passed, your head had begun to drop against your knees, dozing off. there would be no way of keeping yourself awake all night, after a long day, opting as a last ditch attempt to awaken your senses by dipping your toes into the stream as you kicked off your shoes.

the water was a nice welcome in the heat, a content sigh leaving your mouth as you kicked your feet; splashing the water upwards. the wait seemed to drag on forever, growing impatient and trying to decide on whether to return home or not.

you’d give him another hour at most. If he didn’t come, then you would go home.

your gaze scanned the river, serene and peaceful as the rushing body of water sloshed around your feet; cool and refreshing. you’d have time.

you stood back from the water and fumbled to strip down to your chemise, discarding the dress to the grass by your shoes before easing down and into the water, letting out a hiss. slowly, wadding into its shallow depths, you moved forward until the water touched your thighs, lapping at your body as you cupped some of the water between your hands and tossed it up in front of you.

“you’re far from home, lady bracken.”

your head whipped toward the sound of a voice from the treeline, water sloshing around your legs as you faced the boy who the voice belonged to. the ends of your skirt had been released in the turn into the water, feet tangling in the soft sand of the river’s floor, just catching yourself from falling into its rapid rush by the luck of the Gods; the ends of the fabric now soaked by the flowing water that swirled around you. there he stood, barely peeking out from the cover of the trees as if that would somehow conceal his identity, hugging close to the trunk of one while he watched you from his shaded spot. there was hardly any way of seeing him in the night, the moon’s light not quite reaching him but his voice -- you would know that voice anywhere.

you stepped forward, halfway across the shallow depths of the river that flowed between the two lands of bracken territory and blackwoods, the cold water just reaching mid-thigh as you looked up at him, “as are you.” you quipped, heart rate rapid as your heart thrummed against your ribs.

despite the limited visibility, you could see his mouth quirk up in a half-smile, his amusement clear as his head tipped to the side while his eyes continued to watch you closely like some sort of prey. the limited sense of vision allowed you the ability to hear as he inhaled through his nose, breathing outwardly before he finally stepped forward to the edge of the water, his hand at the hilt of his dagger on his hip as his eyebrows rose, “and do you always take moonlit strolls through my land?”

you stilled, hands resting at your sides as your fingers dipped into the cool water below you, the cold nipping at your fingertips, “only when called for— the night was too beautiful to resist.” you replied, chin lifted to look up towards where he towered over you, “and what’s your excuse?”

he snorted, boots shifting against the dirt with as he moved to widen his stance, “the same perhaps,” he said, eyes glancing up to the sky above the riverlands that was littered with stars, “or maybe I was hoping to find a curious lady wandering too close to my territory.” he said, his voice a low rumble.

there was nothing threatening about his tone, however, his body language said otherwise — his eyes scanning their surroundings before looking back to your face, his body suggesting that he was on edge. as though he expected bracken men to burst through the trees behind you any minute. you took another languid step forward, closer to enemy territory, the thrill of it never failing to excite you.

“are you suggesting I’m trespassing?” you asked, your words steady as you bordered taunting the man who eyed you.

you could see as he squinted, narrowing his eyes at your words, “just…observing that you’re quite far from where you’re supposed to be at this hour, my lady.”

you hummed, eyebrows raised as the water continued to lap at the fabric of the cream coloured chemise that had been worn underneath the dress of typical bracken colours of yellow and brown having been discarded at the edge of the grass. you could see the moment his eyes lowered to scan down the length of the fabric, disappearing into the water and drifting higher up your thighs, bordering translucent against your skin, slow in dragging his eyes along the length of your body, “but i suppose the river doesn’t care for borders, does it?” he suddenly asked, his eyes returning to meet yours.

your mouth curved upwards, a wry smile on your face as his gaze emboldened you, “no it doesn’t, but neither do I, it seems. I don’t believe the assize said anything about the river.”

benjicot tutted condescendingly at her, smug as his hands shifted over his dagger, “careful, you're starting to sound like your cousin, bracken.” he warned, tone sharp, “do you not ever worry about what might be lurking in the shadows? his words came lighter now, the tension gone from his voice.

you let out a dry laugh, beginning to feel the effects of the frosty water that reached your hips the further you wadded, a cool breeze causing your skin to prickle with goosebumps. you shivered, sucking in a deep breath through clenched teeth, “only when they carry a dagger and a half-smile, I suppose.” you said.

his hands twitched, the grasp at his blade loosening as he seemed to contemplate reaching forward to drag you from the water at the sight of your shivering frame. however, he stopped himself and instead lifted his chin, mouth pressing into a tight smile, “then its a good thing I’m in a benevolent mood tonight.”

your head lowered to look down at the water, using your fingers to skim its surface, “I will take my chances.” you confidently said, lifting your gaze after a moment of pause.

he let out a ‘hmph’ sound, watching as you slowly closed the gap between the two lands to stand directly in front of him, the water shallow once again and only meeting mid-thigh. the now soaked gown did nothing to provide any ounce of modesty, sheer and clinging to your lower half as you stared up at him. your eyes followed his movements as he crouched, bringing him eye-to-eye as an elbow planted against one of his knees, “well, I suggest you be careful, my lady. the night is full of dangers.” he said, his voice low and quiet.

“and so is the day, but I’ve never been one to shy away from either.” you said, voice matching his volume before you stepped forward until you stood against the ledge, your other hand planting in the grass just between his boots as you lifted your right hand toward him, “are you going to help me or shall I call for my men?” you taunted, a grin on your face.

he rolled his eyes, smile broadening as he stood upright and bent to grab your hand, using his strength to pull you up and over the ledge, out of the waters with ease. you were brought to your feet, stood face-to-face with him, his face leaning close to yours as he spoke, “you wouldn’t dare.” he muttered, “how do you plan then, to explain your presence so close to blackwood land at this hour? alone, in a nightgown, with the heir?”

your chest brushed his as you leaned in towards him, “I’ll figure something out— you underestimate me.”

he hummed with a nod, his nose bumping yours in the close proximity. though his mouth did not yet make contact with yours, his breath fanned over lips, his eyes scanning your face, “oh, I’m sure you will. but do you think they will believe you?” he asked, the lazy smirk on his face laced with arrogance, “do you think there won’t be whispers? said whispers, questioning your maidenhead?”

“they’d be foolish to make such accusations against the daughter of amos bracken.” you countered, shoulders squaring with pride.

the man in front of you let out a sardonic chortle, releasing the hilt of his dagger and finding your hip, gripping the fabric of your chemise in his fist, stepping back and forcing you with him, “oh please.” he mocked, his hand dropping from your hip to reach down to your thigh and begin to hoist the soaked fabric upwards towards your waist, leaving you bear to the elements, “if only they could see their lord’s daughter, out parading herself like some whore on blackwood land. What do you think they would say then, hm?”

“‘Tis not their business what I do, nor my father’s.” you muttered.

“oh but i think they might say otherwise. you’re a noblewoman,” he jeered, his knuckles brushing against the bare skin of your belly as his hand dipped below your naval, “a highborn womb.”

you knew benjicot did not share their views -- in the very few occasions he had opened up during your late night escapades, red in the face with anger, rambling on about the audacity of his councilmen as he dressed. he had ranted about what the very outlook had done to his mother, that women were more than for breeding. but he enjoyed knocking you down a peg sometimes, humbling you back down to earth during these moments. he liked to mock the sanctity of your womanhood, even if for a moment, but then he would go back on himself and praise you once all was said and done — praise the very thing he mocked. However, on this particular night, something about his words lit the flames of pure, feminine rage, staring eye to eye with the man you had visited countless times over the past months.

“I am more than that.” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady.

he let out a melancholic hum, “you think so?”

he spoke to you like you were a child, who lived under the guise of a delusion — like a childish dream that you were expected to grow out of. the tone of his voice, paired by the sudden feeling of his hand between your thighs bred a slew of confusing emotions to spread within your chest; shamed and desperate, humiliated and seething as his fingers found the sensitive bud between folds that were slick with arousal that had you hot with embarrassment, fingers gliding up along your folds as you gritted your teeth, “how dare you—!”

the nature of his words stung when you knew how much he despised when other men looked down on women the way you had grown accustomed to; somehow after he had entrusted you enough to open up to you, he still had the nerve to throw it in your face—

he caught your hand that came up towards his throat, eyebrows raising as if to warn you, a grin on his mouth as his hand between your thighs stilled, “no need to be so hostile, sweet girl.” he said, guiding your hand down to your side as he moved to drive your back towards a tree, that hand coming to hold your chin in the space between his thumb and fingers, “I know you are a brave, resilient woman…” he quietly muttered, face coming close to yours and trapping you between his body and the tree, a knee coming between your thighs.

despite the rage that still burned within you, scorching like a wildfire, the warm contrast of his fingers on cold skin was welcomed; jolting up as his fingers pressed against you, fingers circling the bud and earning a soft sigh of a moan as you reached out to grab him, pulling him closer as though you were trying to crawl underneath his skin and become one. His mouth finally made contact, attaching itself to your throat and placing open-mouthed kisses to the skin, nipping the delicate skin with his teeth as his fingers worked against you.

“my clever, beautiful girl.” he praised, mouth reaching your collarbones.

you belly clenched, another moan elicited by his words as your hands fisted the cloak around his shoulders, his hand moving briefly to tug the fabric of your gown back up and out of his way as it dropped from its place around your hips. benjicot had a way of leaving you breathless and desperate, a flustered mess under his touch, the only man that could draw out the carnal sounds of pleasure; broken sighs and crying out as his middle and ring finger pushed themselves into you.

by the roots of his hair, you brought a hand to the back of his head and tugged him towards your mouth, his lips encapsulating yours in a feverish kiss; all teeth and tongue. you cried out, muffled by his mouth, as his thumb continued the prior pace, rubbing blind shapes into your clit as your mouth dropped open, too distracted by experienced fingers that slipped in and out of you with ease to reciprocate the kiss, “oh—, fuck.”

“yes, just like that,” he encouraged, voice soft. “just relax, my love.”

the weeks of pent up hunger and anticipation for this moment curled within you, settling into your lower belly, thighs attempting to clench around his hand. though you were stopped by the firm, strong thigh that had been planted there to prevent such from happening, his hips pressing into yours.

“ben, please…” you cried out, beginning to become overwhelmed between his mouth that returned to your throat and his hand, his pace increasing.

rather instead, he knelt suddenly, head buried beneath the thin chemise that draped over his head as he leaned into you. his shoulders brushed your thighs as his mouth replaced his thumb’s task, latching to the bundle of nerves and leaving you gasping, gripping his hair as your chest heaved. a low groan vibrated through your core from the man below you, reaching every end and nerve of your body as you struggled to keep up on your feet as your peak washed over you. his arm wrapped up underneath your right thigh, holding you against him and pressing against your hip as if that would somehow ground you as you nearly collapsed against him, your entire body alight as your walls squeezed around his fingers, clenching so tight it could restrict movement.

he was barely any gentler as he reemerged from your skirts, your head slumped back against the tree as he stood to tower over you once more, using the fabric of your gown to hold you up and practically manhandle you up against the tree that scraped your skin with each move. loose strands of hair had freed themselves from the half done up style, hanging in your face as you panted, mouth agape as you looked up at him; lips glistening with the reminisce of you — your cheeks heated with embarrassment, reaching out to touch his cheek.

he was beautiful, especially with you on his lips.

you dropped your hand and pulled him towards you by his hips, using the belt to your advantage to jerk him forward, his own lazy smirk mirrored by your tired smile as your hands fumbled to undo the laces of his pants. he aided in the task, skillful fingers pulling them with ease and shoving his pants down just enough that they sat high on his thighs, freeing his hardened cock from their confinement, your hand instinctively coming down to wrap around the length and stroke him. his lips parted above you, hands coming to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as his nose nudged yours.

you could have stayed there forever, in that moment — with the sight before you, a flush in his face as he appeared fucked out already, hair in a disarray from your fingers.

he reached across his chest to undo the clasp of his cloak, dropping it from his shoulders; getting rid of the only shield that hid you from any potential prying eyes — if anyone burst through the bushes then, there would be no hiding the act and it would be without any doubt what was happening.

‘parading herself like a whore on Blackwood land’

benjicot would be correct. if your cousins had dared to wander close to the borderlands again, you would be done for. there would be no protecting any ounce of your dignity and modesty at that point — you would be shamed by your entire family, and even worse, your father…he would be beyond furious and nothing less than gutted.

the thought and feeling of sheer shame it brought had you clinging close to the man in front of you, his body easily capable of concealing yours as one hand went above your shoulder to the tree, too blissed out to put an end to this and go home right then as his mouth pressed to yours in a sweet, affectionate kiss. you moaned against his mouth, his hand replacing yours around his cock to glide it up along your slit; gathering the slick as a means to lubricate the head of his cock, that already leaked pre-cum that mingled with your own arousal, the tip red and angry.

you braced against the tree, trying to regain footing, nearly slipping into him. he steadied you with the arm above your shoulder, wrapped around your ribs and forcing your chest against his as he slid into you, earning a gasp, breaths mingling as your own arm wrapped around his shoulders; clutching to him like your life depended on it — and in some ways, it did.

he held you up against the tree, having to shove the fabric of his tunic and doublet high up on his hips out of the way as he thrusted up into yours. each movement of his hips, shallow due to the position, his pelvis brushed against your clit, providing enough stimulation to leave you struggling for air as you fisted his clothing in your hands.

“fuck…” he rasped, lips brushing your own as they parted, each breath from his mouth sucked into your lungs as you relied on him for the strength to stay upright, slumping into him.

you were a jumbled, incoherent series of sounds as any paranoid thought of fearing your cousin's appearance went out the window, all consumed by him. your leg lifted by his hand guiding it by the back of your knee, thigh hooking around his hip and pulling him further, deeper into you and releasing a sob. you felt so full, it physically ached, walls clenching down around him and eliciting a hiss of air from him.

the sound of a branch cracking somewhere in the distance of the bushes caused you to jolt against him, eyes peering over his shoulder, wide and panicked as the thought crossed your mind again just how open you were to being exposed. you had done this time and time again, but never with his own men just several feet from the bush you were hidden among, and never during a war that had everyone on edge. the looming war had your father in particular paranoid, leading to an increase in fleets that surveyed the boundaries of bracken’s land and the thought instilled again, that fear that you could be caught.

as if he sensed your worry, his mouth caught yours in another kiss, forehead pressing to yours, “my love…” he muttered, bringing your attention back to him.

and he was successful, your gaze doing one last scan and straining into the dark before you were faced with his tired, lust-filled face, his cheeks flushed and striking even in the dark. the sweet name swelled your chest with adoration, your breath quick as you let out a moan, spiraling into bliss against him as his hand came between you to once again rub against your clit.

“ben, i can’t— please—“ the sound was weak and feeble, choked out and gasping for air as your body burned.

it was met by deaf ears as he gently shushed you, his mouth grazing yours, cock relentlessly rutting up into you with desperation — seeking for release as your walls fluttered around him. the groan he released was animalistic, deep from within his chest and carnal as you clutched onto him, struggling to keep yourself up against him and pulling him into you; seeking some kind of anchor to keep you grounded as his hand on your clit worked in unfaltering shapes that had you weak.

a final sob of pleasure left you as you clamped down around him, body tense and slumping against his as you released yourself around him. the final plea of his name and your walls were followed by a few sharp, final thrusts as he released his seed into you; fucking it deeper into you with a deep sigh of your name, a hand coming to your throat as he glanced down, his forehead resting against your chin.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

you stepped up onto the riverbank of your family’s side; thighs still aching while benjicot’s hand supported you from behind before he too crawled up behind you, not seeming to care that he was now soaked from his thighs down. He stood back, allowing you a silent moment to wring out your dress of any water as best you could, hands twisting the fabric and letting out a grunt of exertion before letting it drop back down to your feet. You bent to collect your dress, benjicot finally stepped forward to help in your task of redressing, hands smoothing the fabric over your hips and straightening your shoulders with a gaze down, not daring to make eye contact.

you both knew this could have been the last time you saw each other, the dawning realization casting an awkward, tense silence over the two of you as you eyed the fabric of his doublet; making a mental note of its ridges, the pattern of the woven article of clothing. he tensed as you lifted a hand to touch the fabric with your fingers, too intimate a gesture as fingers ran across his chest and up towards his shoulder before stilling there, your palm coming to place over his heart.

“when are you to marry the…” he began to ask, his face screwing up in disgust at the idea as he spat out the name, “Lefford boy.”

you gaze only briefly lifted towards his face when he spoke, a small snort leaving you at his reaction and smiling softly at his antics. The smile dropped after a moment, though, inhaling and sighting out a breath as you straightened out his own clothing with gentle tugs, brushing over the fabrics, “two nights from today.” you quietly replied.

he made a sound of disapproval, his gaze on your face as you finally looked him in the eye again, his hand rising to capture your wrist in his hold. You had heard the whispers as well throughout the halls of stone hedge, trying to picture it as you looked at him, “I hear rumors you’re to be married, too.” you pointed out, his face twitching.

he released your wrist, stepping back and looking towards his feet as he fixed his sleeves, “My father plans to betroth me against my will.” He admitted, his words a grumble as he shook out his arms and looked up at you again.

you nodded, “who? has he said anything of his intentions?”

“some girl.” he admitted, shaking his head with a shrug of his shoulders, cheeks expanding with a sigh, “the lord paramount’s granddaughter, I suppose.”

you smiled, tilting your head as you looked at him, “serra tully, right? that’s her name, yes?”

“unfortunately.” he grumbled in complaint.

“she’s quite beautiful, I hear.”

he shrugged again, letting out another grunt.

“well, you should probably be on your way,” you said, hands folding behind you as he looked across the river, the sun already beginning to come up. “your men will be looking for you soon.”

benjicot nodded, stepping forward and reluctantly reaching out to your waist, fingers gently pressing into your sides as he leaned forward to press a sweet kiss to your mouth, “I will see you soon.” He said as he withdrew from your mouth, face still hovering close.

you raised a hand and pressed it to his cheek, smiling as you looked up at him, “yes. maybe.”

his eyes rolled as you lifted a hand as if to gesture ‘just as I suspected’, looking over you as a sharp whistle sounded from somewhere beyond the trees from his camp, hands dropping from your sides and straightening the belt at his hips; you watched as his fingers went to the dagger at his right hip, removing it from its sheath, much to your confusion. He withdrew it and used his free hand to pull one of yours forward, pressing the blade into your palm and looking at you, “a wedding gift.” He quietly said.

you looked down at the blade, frowning and blinking rapidly a couple of times before looking up at him, mouth opened in a stutter, “benjicot, I- I can’t accept this. you might need-”

“I have plenty back home,” he assured, wrapping your fingers around the handle of it and licking his lips that were then pressed into a line that resembled an amused smile, “have it…in case that Lefford boy ever pisses you off.”

you let out a laugh, a smile coming to his face as your hand dropped from his, the dagger clutched by your side, “very charming of you.”

He chuckled and pressed another quick kiss to your forehead before he brushed past you, hurrying into the river with a splash and sloshing back in the direction he had come from. you watched as he climbed out of the water, entering back out onto blackwood territory and giving one last glance as he retreated back into the trees.

[thef1diary]

I absolutely love your writing!!!

Are you able to write something where reader is in a relationship with Max or Carlos or Lando. They sometimes playfight and yn usually wins. But one day the driver has to go somewhere else and uses his real strength to stop playing. And yn is shocked that he used to just pretend. Slightly angsty but mostly fluff.

Only if you can please :)

Playfight | M. Verstappen

warnings: slight angst, mainly fluffy

wc: 800+

masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

You and Max have always been close. Long before you started dating, you were best friends, partners in crime, and each other's confidants. Your days were filled with inside jokes, playful banter, and those moments of playfighting that always left you breathless with laughter. You loved the way Max engages in these little tussles, seemingly evenly matched, making it all the more thrilling.

Today was one of those days. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows of your apartment, casting a warm, golden glow across the living room. Lounging on the couch, you and Max are scrolling through your phones and sharing random memes when the playful urge strikes you.

You nudge Max with your foot, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "Bet I can take you down in under a minute."

He looks up, eyebrows raised, and chuckles. "Oh, really? Is that a challenge?"

You nod, laughing as you leap off the couch and adopt a mock fighting stance. Max follows suit, rising to his feet with a grin that mirrors yours. He's always game for a little fun, no matter how ridiculous.

You start your usual routine of playful attacks, knowing exactly how to make him laugh and stumble. But today, Max seemed a little distracted, glancing at his watch every few seconds. You notice but choose to ignore it, too caught up in the moment to let it break your stride.

"Alright, alright, you win," he says, attempting to end the fight quickly.

But you're not ready to let him off the hook. "Oh no, you don't get off that easy!" you tease, lunging at him again.

"Seriously, schat, I've got—" he starts, but you cut him off with a lighthearted shove.

"Come on, baby, fight back!" you urge, laughing as you goad him into continuing.

He sighs, clearly reluctant. "I really don't have time for this right now," he says, but you're too lost in the moment to listen.

You push him again, harder this time, and his expression changes. Without warning, Max grabs your wrists, twists you around, and gently but firmly pins you face-first to the couch. The sudden display of strength leaves you stunned, your breath catching in your throat.

"There, I win," he mumbles into your ear, before releasing you as he noted the time on his watch.

You lie there for a moment, processing what just happened. Slowly, you push yourself up and turn to face him, your mind racing. "Max... what was that?" you ask, unable to mask the shock in your voice.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking slightly guilty. "I'm sorry. I really have to go. I didn't mean to—"

"You've always let me win, haven't you?" you interrupt, the realization hitting you hard.

Max sighs, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah," he admits softly. "I didn't want to ruin the fun."

You sit up fully, the playful mood evaporated, replaced by a mixture of surprise and a sting of hurt. "Why?"

He shrugs, avoiding your gaze. "I liked seeing you happy. It was never about winning or losing for me."

Your heart clenches, a lump forming in your throat as you process his words. "You've been holding back this whole time," you say, more to yourself than to him.

He nods, finally meeting your eyes. "I didn't want you to feel... I don't know, like you couldn't beat me. It was more important to me that you had fun."

You reach out, taking his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. "You're too sweet for your own good, you know that?"

He chuckles softly, squeezing your hand in return, but the tension between you remains. "I try, and I'm sorry for rushing off like this. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

You shook your head, preventing a smile from forming on your lips as you thought of an idea. "No, don't make it up to me, we'll just have to rematch."

He quirked up an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Are you sure you want to do that again?"

A grin breaks through despite your best efforts to remain serious. "Absolutely. But this time, let's make it more interesting. How about we use Nerf guns or water guns, you name it. Let's see who really comes out on top."

Max laughs, the sound easing the last of the tension between you. "Now that sounds like a challenge I can't refuse. But remember, you asked for it."

You nod, feeling a thrill of excitement. "It's on, baby. Next time, no holding back."

He presses a kiss to your forehead, still smiling as he heads for the door. "I'll be ready. Just don't be too disappointed when you lose."

With a smile, you settle back, imagining the thrill of the next fight. It won't just be about winning or losing—it will be about showing Max that you're ready to match his strength, playfulness, and love, shot for shot.

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @helenemandl6 @charlesleclercsonlywife @dreamingonbed @heylookwhoitis @67-angelofthelordme-67 @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @tellybearryyyy @wobblymug @bokutos-babyowl

[sakurology]

All Mine

Sakura Haurka x f!reader WC: 1.3k Warnings: pwp, established relationship, oral+piv, pull out method (sorry it’s just who I am now), undertones of possessive Sakura, everyone is aged up to early 20s, mentally this is supposed to have a 2nd part so ignore the abrupt ending...

Daisy Says: Idk how we got here but damn...

tagging @interstellar-inn bc network tings

“How come you never kiss me like that?”

When you asked, it was a joke, of course. You were curled up on the couch next to Sakura, feet tucked neatly under his thighs to keep your toes warm. There you were, wrapped up in blankets, a shared bowl of popcorn the only thing truly separating you two from getting closer.

You had noticed he wasn’t laughing, though.

“Helloooo,” you called, tossing a single piece of popcorn to barely thud against his temple, his gaze on the film breaking as he looked to you with red-stained cheeks. The truth of the matter was that even though you and Sakura had agreed to take things slow, things were going a little bit too slow for your liking. You liked watching movies, sure, but every time? watching movies could be even better if you were face down, ass up with the Are you still watching? screen pixelated in your blown-out eyes.

The couple on-screen is clearly having more fun than you are; the romantic climax of the movie featuring a kiss in the rain. Their lips meet in a fervent, sensual kiss, each touch igniting a wildfire of longing. The rain is drenching them, but they are oblivious, lost in the heat of the moment. Time stands still as their kiss deepens, every second brimming with unspoken promises and the raw, uncontainable passion of two souls finding their perfect match. Their bodies pressed together, hands roaming with a desperate, aching need, as if trying to memorize every curve and contour.

He shifted a bit, the seemingly permanent scowl on his face temporarily softening the moment his eyes fell onto you again. With you, he was never really angry- or even aggressive, but instead, so much more relaxed and comfortable,despite the discomfort with being close to.. Well anyone. Even against the mounting and overtly sexual tension that had been building much like your closeness- it was no secret that he was insecure at times about your intentions with him. After all, you were such a hot commodity around town- choosing him sometimes felt odd to him in particular. He thought about the things the guys said about you, the things they wanted to do to you, the things that he could do to you. The stare lingered a bit, his eyes trailing from your head and down your neck, before settling on your chest. He could just barely trace the lining of the top of your bra through the deep cut neckline of your shirt, eyes straining involuntarily in an effort to see even more. He had you. You were his. And he had made up his mind in these tangled thoughts- that you had waited long enough.

“Is- that… is that what you want?” His eyes were fixated on the way your chest rose and fell with every breath you took.

You reached out to lift his chin, forcing his eyes to meet yours as you inched closer and closer to his face, lips barely touching as you spoke.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, confirming your desire and giving him even more indication while batting your lust-ridden eyes. You fully closed the gap, pushing your tits against him as if to say that you weren’t leaving his apartment without what you came for… him.

His complexion flushed an even deeper, carmine red as your hand trailed down to palm him. You felt him stiffen almost immediately in response to the touch, your voice darkening as you stared into his now bewitched multicolored eyes.

“Just wanna be yours.”

It’s barely a full blown make out, but his lips are on yours as soon as you give him the go ahead. There's no real time to melt together but the urgency is there, making it feel as if once your lips part, they’ll never be able to touch again. It gets deeper over time, hands beginning to roam between fabric and skin interchangeably while you gasped for the spaces of thickened air between you, Sakura mumbling ‘all mine,’ against your lips, jawline, and neck as he made sure to leave no patch of skin untouched. He took the lead, pulling your shirt over your head and pushing you to your knees.

Licking your lips with anticipation, you saw him finally spring free from his makeshift pajama pants, cock already glistening at the tip. One hand began to twist at the base of while the other worked to peel your low-rising lounge shorts down to your knees, wiggling your legs until they fell just past your ankles. His hands found their way to your hair as he began to move your head up and down in an effort to guide you. The movement of his arms and hips was feverish and mismatched, desperate for any contact he could have. The weight of him on your tongue alone was enough to send your pussy into overdrive after waiting for what felt like an eternity for this moment. After a few passes, you popped your lips off of him, strings of your saliva separating you from the length.

At first it was slow, making sure he could feel every inch of himself entering you as you adjusted to the pleasure of fullness. He raked his hands into the sides of your flesh, speeding up your pace as he started to thrust upward to meet you. You hadn’t noticed him snaking a hand behind him, reaching over his head to draw it forward- his old Furin jacket. You knew how important that thing was to him- the stories it held, the person it made him way back when. When it came into your vision, you immediately took the hint, gently fumbling with the cool metal buttons that adorned it. Never slowing down, he guided your hips to make figure-8s around him as you slipped it over your shoulders.

“Fuck-” the moan was drawn out and broken as his cock rammed into you more vigorously then, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in harmony with your moans as you felt yourself losing balance. You placed your hands on his chest to stabilize yourself, but he pulled you forward by the breaklines of his jacket, fixated instead on feeling your body in his.

“Now, you’re all mine,” Sakura exalted. His eyes- one blue, one brilliantly golden, were completely glossed over, much like yours at this point, but the intensity of the eye contact brought you closer to the high you’d been chasing as both of your breath patterns slowly began to waver. You could feel his nails softly digging into your side as he concentrated, deepening his claim on you by ghostwriting his name in your skin- you had memorized every character even as your vision began to white, body giving way to land onto his frame and gripping the blankets below you for dear life. He grunted in compliance as he felt you start to clench around him, making sure to get you through it all, eventually slowing his pace and slipping out just in time to come completely undone where your lower abs met.

You both collapsed into the floor beneath you, bodies writhing as you recollected your bearings. There were several seconds of soft pause before anyone moved, heads innocently knocking into each other’s in your disoriented state. He mumbled a soft apology, pressing his lips to the affected area near your temple before reaching over both your bodies to grab his phone.

Oh shit. It was almost 8:45.

Following his lead, you too grabbed your phone- several missed texts flooded your screen. Both of you were late for that night’s festivities- the debut of Tsubakino’s new number down at the club- the one your entire friend group had been invited to at least 2 weeks ago…. The one that Tsubaki would kill you for missing… especially because you helped with the choreography.

“I should probably go back to mine and get ready,” sighed, wrapping yourself in Sakura’s jacket and heading toward the door back to your place, conveniently located a few units away.

“I’ll give this back to you later.”

[therealcocoshady]

Ahhhh!! I love your stuff, you're so talented !!!

Could you write a Marshall x bookworm!female!reader oneshot abt reader always just having her head in books and Marshall wanting some attention please??

Thank youuu xx

More than me ?

Eminem X Bookworm!Female!Reader

Author’s Note : Hey ❤️. Thank you so much for your request ! I had some fun writing it ☺️. I hope you enjoy it !

No one expected a bookworm like you to end up with a rapper. On paper, it didn’t make much sense and yet, everyone around you agreed that Marshall was the perfect match for you. The two of you were somewhat nerdy, introverts who’d rather spend time in your house than go to a party with tons of people. And even if he didn’t read a ton of books, he made up for it by fully supporting your passion for literature. When you moved into his house, he let you transform one of the guest rooms into a library and he often surprised you with books on your wishlist. On special occasions, he would go the extra mile and gift you beautiful editions, sometimes first ones, much to your delight. And even though he politely refused your many offers to let him borrow some books, he was always happy to let you talk his ear off about books you liked.

- You should really read it, you said excitedly.

- Yeah but if I read it, there would be no point in you telling me about it, he said with a grin. I’d miss the best part.

- Sorry, you giggled. Is that too much ?

- Never, he said before pressing a kiss to your temple. I love that you’re passionate. I like listening to you. It’s like a podcast.

- You know, Shelly at the library keeps telling me to start one, you chuckled.

- Maybe you should give it a try, he replied. No one talks about books like you.

- Maybe I’ll ask Hailie for pointers, you shrugged.

This was the start of a crazy adventure for you. A year later, you were able to quit your job, relying on your podcast and advertisement to make a comfortable living. Advertisers were constantly soliciting you, willing to take advantage of your massive following. You had managed to gather a big community of bookworms such as yourself, who enjoyed hearing about your latest reads. It was your safe space and you simply loved it. Another perk was that publishing houses sent you tons of books for free, hoping you’d talk about them in an episode. Marshall’s house was big but you now had books in every room and always more books you needed to read. Your boyfriend was already used to always seeing you with a book but now, you had more time to read and were doing this full time. It wasn’t always sunshine and candy, though and, sometimes, you were on a schedule to finish reviewing a book before recording your next episode. At some point, you had decided to review a whole series that had been sent to you a week ago, and reading those eight books definitely took most of your time.

- Are you coming to bed ? Marshall asked.

- I have to read a couple more chapters, you said apologetically. Sorry, my love.

- You’ve spent the whole day reading, babe, he pointed out. How about you rest your eyes a little ? I could make them roll back into your skull…

- Are you propositioning me ? You asked with a grin.

- Absolutely, he replied with a smile. What do you think ?

- That’s tempting, you admitted.

Before you had even finished your sentence, he was grabbing your book, placing your bookmark, closing it and taking you to the bedroom. As soon as you reached the bed, he pinned you to the mattress and whispered in your ear.

- Been waiting for this all day, he said.

- All day ? You giggled. You were at work…

- And yet, you were the only thing on my mind, he grinned. Couldn’t think of anything else.

He made sure to show you exactly what had been on his mind, ravishing you in all sorts of positions, making you cry from pleasure, until you were both panting and exhausted.

- I love you, he said as he caught his breath. God, I missed you this week.

- I missed you too, you cooed. You’ve been working so hard, lately.

- So have you, he pointed out.

- I have to keep busy while you’re finishing your album, don’t I ? You giggled.

- Well, you have me to yourself for the next two days, he said. Told the team not to bother me unless someone dies. I’m all yours. And we’re not leaving this room.

- Interesting, you giggled. I have some work, though.

- You can read chapters in between rounds, he shrugged before burying his head in your neck.

You smiled and enjoyed his touch, the warmth of his breath on your skin. You ran your hands in his back and stroked his head. Moments later, he was asleep. His soft snores brought a smile to your face and you figured he needed the rest. Lately, he had been waking up extra early and coming home later than usual, occasionally going to California to work with Dre. You gently made him roll to his side of the bed and wrapped yourself in your silk robe before going back to your reading room and resuming your reading. Hours later, a grumpy boyfriend came to get you.

- You left, he groaned sleepily.

- You were sleeping, you said with a smile.

- Well, not anymore, he said. Come back ?

- I just have to finish this-

- Later, woman, he groaned.

- Ten minutes, you pleaded.

- Babe, he sighed. It’s 11PM.

- Yeah but-

- I need you, he said with puppy eyes. You don’t want me to get all lonely in bed, now, do you ?

You smiled at him, yet made a point of shaking your head in disapproval. He knew full well his lost puppy act would get him anywhere with you. You closed your book and went back to the bedroom. As soon as you got back in bed, he wrapped you in his arms, in a possessive stance. You chuckled and whispered sweet nothings before drifting off to sleep.

You woke up the next day to the sound of Marshall entering the room with a breakfast tray in his hands.

- Breakfast in bed ? You yawned with a smile. What’s the occasion.

- I thought we might enjoy a lazy day in bed, he said with a smile. You, me, food and movies ?

- Sounds good, you nodded.

He settled in bed next to you and you ate the copious amount of food he had prepared. You spent a few hours in each other’s arms, watching movies and cuddling. Marshall seemed exceptionally clingy, which made you smile. Physical touch had always been one of his love languages, but it was rare for him to spend hours on end cuddling. After a while, though, you decided to get back to reading. However, you didn’t find your book where you had left it.

- Babe, have you seen the book I had yesterday ? You asked. It’s blue, with flowers on the cover.

- I haven’t, he shrugged. Come here, you’ll find it later.

- I really have to finish, you said. I’ll go and search…

- Babe, he groaned, can’t we just have a few hours together ? I’ll help you search for it. Later.

- Ok, you shrugged. But it’s important.

He sighed and gestured for you to come back in his arms. He didn’t pay a lot of attention to the movie, though, and just enjoyed your presence until he fell asleep. Or so you thought. Because as soon as you moved, he let out a grunt.

- What ? He asked.

- Just going to search for my-, you began.

- Screw it, he groaned. Here’s your damn book.

He reached for his nightstand and handed it to you. You looked at him in disbelief.

- You realized I’ve searched for it for half an hour ? You asked.

- Yeah well here it it, he groaned.

- Why did you take it ?

- Because I want you to be with me, he sighed. It’s all about your books, these days.

- I’m working, you said defensively. It’s my passion !

- Yeah well why don’t you move into your reading room then ? He suggested. You like these books more than me anyway.

You sighed and then put the book down before taking his hand.

- What’s with you today ? You asked.

- Nothing, he shrugged with a frown.

- Marsh, you said tentatively. You’re short-tempered and clingy. Clearly, something’s wrong.

- I miss you, he sighed. That’s all.

- I’m right here, you pointed out. I even work from home. I’m literally always here.

- I like that you’re having fun but… you work too much, he said.

- I do work a lot, but it’s because I want to be successful, you said. And you’re one to talk. You’re a literal workaholic.

- Yeah well I’m tired of all this work and I want to hug my girl, he said. I’m stressed out and I need you.

You smiled and kissed his cheek before putting your book away.

- You know you could just have told me you needed me, right ?

- I guess, he said grumpily. I guess I didn’t want to sound like a total simp.

- I like it, you said. It’s cute.

- So you’re staying, this time ? He asked.

- Of course, babe, you replied. If you need me, that’s my priority. But… is there something wrong ?

- Nothing, he said. I guess I’m just under pressure. I just need you. You’re my safe space. I miss you, lately. And now that you have this shit ton of followers, you don’t even tell me about your books. I miss that too.

You nodded and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

- I’m sorry, my love, you said. I just got really into all of it. But you’re my priority, you know ?

- Am I ? He asked.

- Of course, you replied.

- I love you, he said. Sorry I stole your book.

- Next time you try that, I’m messing up with your cassette wall, you threatened.

- You wouldn’t ! He gasped.

- Try me, you said with a raised eyebrow. Who knows ? Maybe all of them are in the wrong case. Maybe I’ve already done it.

He looked at you nervously and you gave him a threatening smirk. Knowing how much he cherished that cassette collection it was enough of a threat and a sure fire way to mess with his head. He groaned and got up.

- Where are you going ? You asked.

- To check my cassettes, he said.

- What ? You asked in a falsely offended voice. If you go, it means you love them more than me !

- Babe… of course I love them more, he said with a grin. Know your place, woman !

Note : I hope you enjoyed this one shot ❤️. If you did, you can support my writing via Ko-Fi ! I will also be giving previews of upcoming parts of Recovery and Love Game over there 😏.

[i-yap]

Hi, I saw you wrote about Jason, could you tell me how Jason would behave with someone who loves him unconditionally? but it wasn't even a batgirl or middle , What would happen? Would it be a lot of fights or...? for your past

I wanted you to write so much 😭 please

Yess i do write for jason, ik i show a lot of love to dick(he's my baby) and tim( also my baby) but jason is also my baby( my indian parents are very disappointed in me)

Jason x Superloving! y/n

You are his dream girl!! the perfect match!! a normal girl who loves him no matter what he has to deal with, someone safe, warm and kind to come to after living a life he hates.

You need to be incredibly patient, caring and observant when it comes to jason. Bro can not communicate his feelings nor does he knows how to show them. He wants to , if he could he would bring the stars and moon and make them into pretty beads to have the honor to be a part of your necklace collection. Infact just ask him to and he will find a way. But with you, aka someone who loves him no matter what- he doesn't feel as guilty and insecure about not being able to be as open and romantic as you deserve.

Also jason would really be best off with a non vigilante/hero/powers girlfriend. Some comics mention how much Jason hates this sort of life but has been living it cause he has no other outlet for his trauma and pain and feels like he has no out anymore. So a sweet, kind girl who allows him to see what a normal life could be like. Who helps him overcome his trauma in a healthy way .

Jason also loves simple domestic things, he never grew up with them. Never had anything close to a "home" not a house, a "home. You give that to him. Someplace where he can breathe, be happy and in love.

Fight? haha no way. I mean yes jason explodes sometimes and runs away from expressing himself. And ofcourse you worry for him . He also is super jealous and insecure. So misunderstandings happen. But since you are so loving, patient and openly infatuated with Jason, its really rare that you actually fight. Maybe in the beginning of the relationship but after that almost never fight

Jason could never hurt you, he wont. its his biggest fear . And the moment a single tear comes to your eyes or u get really upset , he drops everything and then you're the priority. Noone hurts you, not even him .

I think you and Jason after a couple years will just leave all that vigilante stuff behind and jason becomes a nice literature professor and you pursue your own dreams. also start a nice way of helping out homeless kids and rehabilitation of substance abusers . ( I will forever push jason literature teacher canon) In the end, you guys will probably the first of the batfam to get married and maybe even get kids. You are everything Jason needs and once he gets over his issues, he'll be sure to tell you that.

I hope this was what you were looking for, I didn't fully understand the request. Thanks for asking so nicely , it really motivates me to write when I see such nice requests.

[elcpsstuff]

hey love! I saw your posts and i really like your works.

a request with delicate by taylor for conrad?

Delicate (Isn’t it? Isn’t it?) // Conrad Fisher

synopsis: conrad likes things simple and easy. the no strings attached agreement you have together may be enough for him, but is it enough for you?

warnings: slight smut, angst, conrad being an asshole

a/n: this is probably gonna be a mini series 🧎🏻‍♀️ also it’s inspired delicate if you couldn’t tell 🤰🏻 requests are open I need to work on my writing :) enjoy!

—

sometimes I wonder when you sleep

are you ever dreaming of me?

sometimes when I look into your eyes

I pretend you’re mine all the damn time.

—

2:25 AM

Come over.

I shouldn’t have gone, but I did. In fact, I was waiting for his text message foolishly.

No strings attached is supposed to be simple and easy. You don’t wait for them and get ready; makeup and all, but this was different.

Living next door to the Fishers proved to be a blessing and curse. Summers spent laughing with the Conklin’s and Fisher’s were what I loved most, but there were some drawbacks.

Conrad had always amazed me. The way his lip curves up and his blue eyes. Not as bright as Jeremiah’s, but darker in a sense.

We had all been friends for years, and that was it. Despite Belly’s crush on Jeremiah and mine on Conrad, there were lines that were never crossed. Until now.

I hadn’t planned for this to happen, but one drunk party led to sex that nor me or Conrad expected. It was good sex, but I wanted more. Did I tell him that? No. It’s a good thing I didn’t because the next day he told me it was a mistake but he liked me. It. The sex, I mean.

So, I took what I knew I could get from him. I may never be able to hold him in public and have him, but I could in the dark of the night. And if I closed my eyes, I could imagine having him all the time. This was enough for me.

Maybe not, but I wouldn’t tell him that.

After putting on some light makeup and fixing my hair, I headed over to Conrad’s. I tried not to look desperate in attempts of making my makeup looking effortless, but who knew if Conrad would even notice?

The door was already opened but iConrad never waited by the door for me. I was the one who came up to his room in the dark of night while everybody slept. During the day I was only the next door neighbor and Belly’s friend.

He was lying on his bed when I walked in, fully clothed. That would probably change within minutes though because Conrad never liked to wait.

But I would, stupidly. I would wait for him through everything, even though I was utterly nothing to him.

—

“So good for me.”

Conrad’s lips trailed down my neck and collarbone. His lips were hot to the touch and I winced at each nip and kiss. He would sooth the pain after, reminding me how sweet he could be.

I wondered if Conrad acted like this with other girls at home? Did they touch him like I did? Of course, I had no right to ask because we weren’t together. We weren’t anything at all and he reminded me of that every time I almost crossed that line.

I tugged at Conrad’s shirt, to which he took it off immediately. His body was beautiful, but his face was a masterpiece. How could someone so beautiful be so broken?

I traced my hands down his back, and a shiver released from his mouth. “Need to feel you now.”

He was quicker tonight. He was always quick, an hour tops but something was different; needier.

“O- okay..” Conrad was reaching over to grab a condom from his drawer before I could fully comprehend anything. I heard noises of foil and he was already putting it on.

He didn’t even notice the matching set I put on for him, but then again, he never, ever did.

Conrad’s lips were swollen and his eyes were needy and desperate, “Ready?” I nodded. Because even if I wasn’t, I always would be. To him.

He slipped into me, and a sinful cry escaped my lips. He was slow for the first couple of minutes before he began to pick up his pace. I took it well but his size wasn’t very easy to accommodate to.

He kissed me feverishly all over my neck, “Such a good girl. Taking me so well.”

I always got butterflies at his praise names, but a part of me knew they were only to make me do what he wanted.

Another part of me prayed it was real.

—

I was painting and out of breath.

We had gone at it for thirty minutes until Conrad had decided enough was enough, because he always decided.

He rolled over on his back and checked the time on his phone. 3:05 AM.

“Front doors open.” He said, cold and offset, like he was somewhere else.

Of course he did, I don’t know why I expected it to be any different. But this was the moment, if anytime, to say something. He was never vulnerable except those rare minutes where I found the cracks in between.

I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling my shirt over my body and slipping into my jean shorts. Even in the night, in cousins it was still warm.

I took a risk and whispered, “Conrad?”

It was silent for a little before he said, “Hmm?” Uninterested, obviously.

I took a deep breath, knowing this could ruin everything. Should I say it? Was the risk of maybe, possibly having him enough? Or should I walk away and keep what little we have?

“Um—”

“I don’t have all day.”

Fuck. “Nothing. I forgot.”

“You forgot?” My back was facing him but I knew he was wearing that judgmental face he always wore when he knew I was lying. Or anybody.

“Yep.”

“mhm.”

He didn’t say anything else and the bed shifted a little until his breaths slowed. He was sleeping now, and I was left alone.

My silent sobs racked my body, but they weren’t heavy yet. No, I always waited until I was home for that.

I closed the door quietly, phone and shoes in hand.

Once I escaped through the front door and reached my bedroom, the sobs racked my body fully. They took over and silent tears streamed down my face.

Tonight, I almost crossed that line.

It was all so delicate, and what if I had? Things probably would have ended between us, and everything would be worse.

I hated it, I hated that I went back to him when he didn’t deserve it, and I hated the way he treated me.

Most of all, I hated the way I loved him through it all.

—

part 2?? 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

[kingkatsuki]

— pampered

Just had this silly little thing in my head about going to get manicures with Bakugou.

Warnings: none, fluff.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Bakugou takes care of you.

And as much the media try to portray Dynamight in a less than favourable light, or cast aspersions on him unfairly. No one could deny the amount of love that he held for you.

Fans on internet were your biggest champions, photographs going viral for the way Pro-Hero Dynamight softened the moment he laid eyes on you, or the way he spoke about you during interviews as though you hung the moon and the stars in the sky to protect him from the darkness. Interviewers getting barely two word answers from him until they began to ask about you. Paparazzi pictures of you both together, holding the door open for you or carrying your handbag.

Making the big, mean, gruff Dynamight more human— shushing the critics, and unknowingly boosting his hero ranking.

And you’re lucky enough to be the one that gets to experience it behind closed doors too.

There are certain little things— tokens of his affection, that Bakugou enjoys doing for you. Things like making sure there’s a warm bath waiting for you when you get home from a long, rough day at work. Bringing home your favourite pastries from the bakery you like whenever his patrol route passes it by, sometimes even going out of his way to make it there although he’d never admit it to you. Making sure your AirPods are fully charged before your commute because he knows you always forget to charge them. And paying for you to get your nails done in whatever you can find the time.

His only request for this, as always, is to pick what colour that you get every time you visit. His lips curl into a smirk whenever you send him a photograph of the finished product, or even better— when they’re wrapped around his cock.

But Bakugou’s never once offered to come to the nail salon with you, often dropping you at the door with a kiss and his shiny metal card in hand as he finds something else to do for the time that it takes. Dutifully picking you up when you’re done and taking you home.

So you’re surprised when you find your boyfriend sitting beside you in one of the plush leather chairs as a nail tech files away at one of his hands. This time he’s seated beside you as you show him the selection of colour options in front of you, instead of the usual pictures on your phone. Completely off guard when he pulls out a picture of one of his agency logos on his phone, showing it to the woman doing your nails for her to try and replicate the black base paired with the signature orange cross across his chest.

“I wasn’t even going to get my nails done for another two weeks, you literally just paid for these.” You smiled as she continued to remove the old gel from your nails, soaking them as it gave you time to spin in your chair to watch your boyfriend.

“Yeah, but I wanted you to come with me.” He shrugged, swapping hands when the tech requested.

“So— What do you think?”

“Shits boring,” He scoffed, before his gruff features softened, “But I like doing it with you.”

“Maybe you can come with me more often then,” You grinned, “We can make it like date night.”

“Nah, I think I’ll leave it to you, sweetheart.”

“Imagine if the paps could see you now.” You laughed at the thought.

Picturing headlines splashed across all the daily gossip tabloids and news sites like Dynamight — soft hands for a soft heart, Pro-Hero Dynamight protects the hands that protect the city, What really lies beneath the gloves?

“They’d have a fuckin’ field day.”

“We should get matching colours, really give them something to talk about.”

“Piss off—” He sneered, although there was no real malice to his tone.

Bakugou’s manicure and hand massage was done far before your nails were complete, as he waited patiently beside you, a hand gripping your upper thigh as he watched the tech draw the intricate design onto your nails.

“They’re so perfect,” You gleamed as you held them up for him to see, the orange accented with streaks of glitter that made them sparkle as he opened the door for you to leave the salon.

“Now everyone will know that you’re mine.” He

“Like they don’t already.” You laughed as Bakugou opened the passenger door for you, leaning over it to steal a kiss as you took a seat inside.

“Yeah, but now everyone will.”

You’d wondered why Bakugou had been so eager to come with you to get your nails done, especially with the choice in design. Until the man you were in love with bent down on one knee in front of you, pulling out a shiny ring concealed in a black box from his pocket as you said yes.

Smirking in the background of one of your pictures as you held your hand up into the air, the ring now sitting pride of place on your hand while your nails shone in the evening light. Pictures that were certain to go viral by morning—

“I just wanted everything to be perfect like you.”

[irkimatsu]

Hi! I've absolutely fallen in love with the way you write this devious old man, and I can't get the thought of Husk taking shots off of a female reader tits after beating her in a few hands of cards lmao

God damn something about this request put me into "must write this now" mode, so thanks for that! Here's a NSFW fic about Husk and AFAB!Reader playing strip poker, Reader losing miserably, and Husk licking whiskey off her tits. 1.3k words. Warning for author not being much of a drinker and probably fucking something up here. I did read about how to do body shots with tequila/salt/lime, but decided to keep it simple for my baby Seagram's drinking ass. Enjoy!

Sometimes you wonder why you even bother playing strip poker with Husk, when the score always ends up so unbalanced. He’s sitting across from you, fully clad in a nice suit, his bowtie the only article of clothing that’s been discarded to the floor. You, on the other hand, have been reduced to nothing but your matching bra and panties.

As you stare at your cards, you know that one of those things is about to go.

“Three of a kind,” Husk says, face absolutely smug, as he rests his cards on the table. “What have you got, doll?”

“As far as I know, nothing,” you respond with disgust as you set your own hand down.

Husk takes a quick glance at your cards before laughing. “Yeah, you don’t have shit.” He grabs one of the bottles of whiskey he’s been drinking throughout the game and takes a long gulp. With all he’s had, you’re impressed he’s not face down on the floor right now, but even with his high tolerance he’s definitely not sober.

“Are you sure you’re not cheating?” you playfully accuse him.

“What? You really think I’m so desperate to see you naked that I’d cheat at cards?” he says, his wide, toothy grin not helping you determine how sarcastic he’s being. “Now, come on, take off your bra.”

“I thought the loser chose what to take off?’ you shoot back.

“Oh? You’re gonna take your panties off for me, then? It’s not like you have a lot of options right now.”

“Asshole.” Despite the insult, you’re still laughing as you pull the straps of your bra off of your shoulders. Husk’s eyes are glued to you, his tail waving behind him in interest. Both his smirk and his pupils widen as you pull the cups down, exposing your sizable breasts to his view.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous…” The slightest hint of a moan breaks through his voice.

You toss your bra to the floor and start gathering the cards from the table. “So, it’s my turn to deal?”

“Hey, wait!” Husk protests. “At least give me a minute to enjoy the view!”

“All right, you dirty old man.” Even as you say that, you find yourself blushing in his gaze. It’s not like you dislike the interest he always shows in your body; it’s quite the opposite, in fact. You could expose yourself to him a million times, and every single time he’d find himself transfixed as if he’d never seen anything so beautiful before. No matter how lewd he gets, especially when he’s drunk, his gaze on you always holds a sense of romantic wonder, even worship.

That man adores you. His hungry eyes drinking your body in do nothing to downplay that.

“Why don’t you push them up for me?” he asks. “Give me a better look?”

He groans as you follow his request. Your hands on the bottom of your breasts send the slightest jolt of excitement through your blood. Oh, to have his hands where yours are right now… you absentmindedly stroke the tops of your breasts with your thumbs, imagining his hard claws in their place.

“Now push ‘em together.” A small purr escapes his throat as you continue moving to his will. “Mmm… fuck, that’s it…” Even as he takes another gulp of whiskey, he still doesn’t take his eyes off you.

“Can we get back to the game?” you ask. Not that you don’t want his eyes on you, but you’re so close to finishing it… finishing one game, and starting another. You’re so ready for him to get that last point, get you out of your panties, and take his grand prize for once again besting you. At this point, he’s just teasing you… and that fucker knows it, you’re sure.

“Hmm…” Does he actually need time to decide how quickly he wants you out of your clothes?! “Hold on… there’s something I wanna try.” Still holding his whiskey bottle, he rises from his chair. “Don’t move your hands,” he says as he walks over to your chair. “Just turn and face me.”

You turn as he asks, unsure where he’s going with this. You then gasp from the sudden cold as he pours a bit of whiskey between your breasts, letting it settle in your cleavage as it slowly trickles down your skin. “Husk, what the fuck are you-”

You don’t have time to finish your question before his paws are over your hands and his face is buried in your cleavage, rough tongue lapping up the amber liquid.

“Husk…” you murmur as he continues tasting you, long after the whiskey on your skin has trickled out of his reach.

“Pour me another one,” he asks from his position against your chest. It’s difficult to get your hand out of his grip, but you comply, grabbing the bottle from the table and pouring more whiskey into your cleavage. Chilled drink is quickly followed by his hot breaths and tongue, and you’re not sure which sensation is making you shiver more.

“Do you want some more, kitty?” you ask playfully. His waving tail answers that question. You pour some more whiskey onto yourself, this time aiming for the top of one of your breasts. His mouth quickly seeks out the stream, tongue grazing against your skin as he laps directly from the flow. Once you turn the bottle upright again, he focuses on licking up what he missed, tongue following it as it drips down the curve of your breast.

You gasp as his tongue laps at your nipple, licking up the last of the drink.

“More,” he grunts. This time, you focus the pour directly onto your nipple, desperate to keep his mouth’s attention there. Hot and cold alternate on the stiff, sensitive bud as he savors his new treat, alternating between licking and suckling the liquid from your skin. His hands begin massaging your breasts, squeezing and grazing with his claws. Your hand is starting to shake, but he still continues to sip from the now-erratic flow, not even bothered when your hand jerks in a way that pours some of the whiskey onto his face. He’s way too drunk, on whiskey and on you, to care about anything that happens to him.

Unfortunately, the bottle can only hold so much, and soon he’s cleaned the final drops from your body. As if in search of more, his tongue licks its way back up your breast, then to your collarbone, before making you gasp with a few firm licks to your throat. His lips then find yours, kissing you deeply as he continues to massage your breasts. The taste of whiskey is strong on his lips; you gently suckle his tongue to get more of that beautifully familiar taste, the taste of him. You may not even like whiskey that much, but it’s so delicious when you’re tasting it from his breath.

“Did… did you still want to play cards?” you ask, breathless and laughing, when he pulls away from the kiss.

“I don’t think we have to. It’s pretty obvious I was about to win anyway, right?” he says.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you say. You lightly scratch beneath his chin before pulling him in for another kiss, his purrs rumbling against your lips. “Congratulations, you still have your undefeated streak against me.”

“You’re damn right I do. Now come on, get on the bed. I want my prize.”

He steps back to allow you to rise from the chair. You expect him to follow you to the bed, maybe unable to keep his hands off you during the brief journey, but instead he makes a detour to the fridge in the corner of the room.

He pulls out another bottle of liquor and brings it over to your now-lying form. You gasp as he presses the cold bottle against the side of your neck, then slowly drags it down your body, over your collarbone, breast, nipple, stomach, before pressing it between your legs against your still-covered lips. You instinctively grind against the bottle as he rubs you with it, his smirk growing more devious.

“Thanks for the best whiskey I’ve ever had. Now, let’s see how you’ll taste with a good rum…”

[legendary-pink-dot]

Hinterland

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x female reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Unprotected PiV and half-asleep sex, established relationship

Word Count: 600 on the dot

Summary: Camping with Frankie, and why 3am half-asleep sex in a backcountry tent is superior.

Notes: A little scene inspired by @trulybetty's gorgeous little fic "Campfire" and the discussion it inspired with @goodwithcheese via reblogs about the joys of camping with Frankie. (Are you still not convinced?!) I'm an Outdoors Girl, so this would be my dream.

Stillness at 3am in the backcountry is primal. Nocturnal creatures have finished their hunts, but it's too early for birdsong. Even the insects have stopped clicking and chattering.

The air around your tent is quiet. Heavy. It's echoed in the way Frankie softly grinds against you from behind, his hard cock teasing your entrance. He doesn't have to ask if you like it; all his half-conscious brain has to do is track the pace of your breath, register the slight hitch in your hips that begs for more.

His calloused fingers, wisps of woodsmoke still clinging to them from the campfire, automatically travel down from your stomach to lazily circle your clit. He's too lost in his half-lidded dreams to be intentional with his movements, but it sparks your fire all the same, until you're wide awake.

Being with Frankie in these early morning moments, when he's half asleep and acting purely on instinct, is your favorite thing in the world. When you're at home spread across your luxurious bed and not inside this pitch-black tent at 3am, he's controlled, so focused on your pleasure instead of his own, a people-pleaser to the point of fault sometimes. But not now. He can have whatever he wants.

Frankie's cock finally slides into you. His breathing is soft and even against the back of your neck, and you reach back to twine your fingers gently through his hair. After a minute or two to adjust -- he's always so thick inside you, especially in this spooned position -- you start to clench around his length, matching the rhythm of his breaths as they slowly pick up speed.

Lazy and languid gradually turn visceral as his hips instinctively move faster, his thrusts hard enough to hit and drag across nerves deep inside you, but without the force behind them he can give when he's conscious and you're loudly begging more, harder Frankie, please fuck me, I want to feel all of you.

Little drops of condensation bead on the inner nylon of the tent, rolling lightly down the walls.

His fingers dig into your hip to push and pull you over his cock. His hand has given up doing anything to your clit, but that doesn't matter. You can take over. It won't take much anyway.

His breath catches repeatedly, forming grunts and groans that echo loud inside the tent. You know he's close, even though he's still not fully awake.

Your hips are moving faster now to pull him in and drag him out, just far enough to brush the nerves around your entrance with each slide. Your hand draws familiar and practiced circles on your clit, bringing you to the edge and drawing soft whimpers from your mouth. Not too loud; you don't want to wake him.

You press your palm against your clit at just the right spot and you come with a whimper, squeezing down on Frankie's cock just as he presses deep with a groan and spurts, his cock pulsing and twitching inside you, deliciously filling you up as you ride out your orgasm.

He never really woke up, and you can tell by his breathing pattern that he's already drifting back into deep sleep.

As you start to doze off yourself, his softening cock still inside and his arm wrapped around your chest, the forest outside the tent gently starts to wake. You cling to each other like it's the final moments of a delicious dream that will be gone forever once the sun rises.

In a few hours, you'll wake up exactly like that.

[heyyypuddin]

Withering Petal (Armando x OC) Bad Boys Chapter 8

⚠️Trigger Warning ⚠️

This chapter does contain mentions of violence and strong language as well as horrendous crimes. Please heed if you’re sensitive to mentions of those.

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Chapter 8 

The next few days fly by like a breeze, nothing exciting happening. Amora’s been working on another big art project for a different client, so she’s been keeping to her office, and Armando has been basically living in her home gym. 

Every time she goes to see what the fugitive is up to, she finds him in there working away. Sometimes she goes sneaking peeks whenever he’s shirtless or making rather loud grunts, thinking she was being sneaky, but unbeknownst to her, he sees her every time. 

The week flew into the next, and Amora was in the room with Armando checking over his wounds. 

““You’re healing pretty well, which is great to see they were looking real nasty when you first came,” she inspected his shoulder, moving over to his side before backing up to change out the bandages. 

He hummed in response, comfortable in the silence they usually have while being in each other's presence. He fixed his position as she started putting on the bandages, scanning over her. He noticed she changed her nails to a light pink with clear textured designs, her toes matching the color. 

‘How cute’ he thought; he always found it so cute how she kept up with herself. It reminded him of his mother; she never liked going anywhere underdressed; she even found it disrespectful when women would come near her not dressed well.

He closed his eyes, feeling an ache from the thought of his mother. It made him want to run away. Even with everything she's done, he missed her. She was the only physical parental figure he had growing up, and even then, he barely got to see her. Another ache hit him, and he looked for a way to avoid the uprooting emotions. 

“Why is Victor looking for you? You mentioned it a couple times but never explained it.” came the question. It’s been bothering him for a while, but he never spoke on it, and it helped take the spotlight of his memories stabbing at him.

Amora's hands stilled on the second wound she was working on and she let out a sigh. Finishing what she was doing, she sat next to him. Looking at him with sad eyes, part of him felt bad for brining that look to her face, but he knew he wanted answers. 

“After my parents' murder, he took me with his cartel. "He-he” she stuttered, taking a few shaky breaths before continuing. 

“I was under his control for 12 years before escaping 4 years ago.”

“mierda” 

“Yeah, tough, right?” she breathed out in an empty chuckle. 

”Obviously people know that he’s a drug lord and was a mercenary, but most people don’t know that he was also involved in human trafficking.” 

This really caught Armando’s attention, his eyes enraged at the assumptions going through his head.

“Are you saying that you were….?” he trailed off, not really wanting to say the words. He may have killed people and dealt drugs, but he never put women in harm's way. In fact, in the Aretas Cartel, all the men respected the women highly, especially when Isabel Aretas was the leader; they had no choice, and if they thought differently... well, his mother would show them why they called her “La Bruja.”

Amora shook her head quickly

“So... he did it differently. Victor Ortiz is a very possessive man; he would make deals with these men and would trade the women, but before the other party could get too far, he would have them killed and bring the girls back. He always made it seem like it wasn’t from his group so that he could keep getting deals.” 

She took a deep breath in, glancing at Armando, seeing him fully locked in. She breathed out, feeling her hands begin to shake, clasping them tighter. Seeing her shake, Armando reached out, covering her hands with his.

""Listen, if you don’t want to continue, you don’t have o." She shook her head in reassurance. 

“Thank you, I’m okay; it’s just—I'm okay. Uhm, so, for me, I was favored by Victor ever since I was little. I’m not too sure why, but wherever he went, he made sure I was there by his side. He traded me a few times but mainly only did them as punishment; he would do it with the vilest men. Thankfully, before they could really touch me and do horrendous things, he would ‘‘Save me,” she scoffed at the thought.

“I won’t lie, I had it better than most women there. I tried to use my advantage by helping women escape, but often we were caught, and he would either trade them or kill the women in front of me. Sometimes he would." Her voice hitched, taking a higher pitch, trying to get the words out but was choking up. 

“S-sometimes he would--I'm sorry.” 

“No, its okay." She felt Armando’s hands caressing her, trying to bring comfort, but she knew she didn’t deserve it, not from all the horrendous things she did. 

Taking a deep breath, she rushed the words out.

“Sometimes he would even force me to pull the trigger or choose who would die,”

she choked out, her eyes turning red from the tears streaming out of her eyes, remembering times when victors' hands were gripping hers painfully around the gun, her trying to struggle out of his grip aiming at different women, some she got close to, but it was futile.

“Eventually I gave up on trying to help, and I only focused on myself. I tried three times, and after the fourth time, I finally escaped and found myself in Miami City. Sometimes I felt like he allowed me to escape; it felt almost easy, and I was right.”

She softly pulled her hands away from Armando, wiping the tears away from her face.

“After being away from him for a year, I tried to live a normal life; I felt it was long enough, and I was finally free. I met this guy, and he was so sweet, seeming so protective and genuine. We dated for about a year and a half, but it turns out he was working with Victor. He promised him two million in return for me,” she spitted out, feeling herself become angry over the hurt and betrayal on the day she found out. 

~~~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~

Amora came bouncing in the apartment with a happy smile on her face after coming back from a self-care day of getting a message, her hair and nails done. She couldn't wait to show Jay her new hairstyle. She decided for the first time to get knotless braids in a honey blonde color. 

“Baaaaaaabe, I’m hoooome." She called out, putting her purse on the couch, taking off her sandals, and walking through the apartment going to the bedroom. 

She found the man she was looking for, lying on the bed in nothing but black basketball shorts, her eyes scanning over his tall, dark brown body, and up to his face, his sharp jaw clenched shut, one hand twisting his curls and the other holding up his phone, texting, looking too serious. 

She got an idea in her mind and quickly jumped on the bed, crawling over his legs, straggling him, and snatched his phone, putting it up above his head, giving a teasing smile. 

“Notice anythi—.”

A yelp ripped from her throat at being pushed roughly off his lap and onto the floor, immediately snatching the phone back out of her hand.

“What the fuck you think you doing, Amora?” she cowered into the floor out of shock and fear at his outburst. She tried to play it off by laughing even though she was petrified by that reaction. He's never had a reaction like that with her, ever.

"Geez, what got you so serious? I was only trying to show you my hair,” she told him, getting off of the floor and going to the far opposite edge of the bed, trying to create as much distance from the raging man as possible. 

She watched him tower over her, glaring with seething black eyes, his pierced nose gleaming from his flaring nostrils. She felt as if she was in a ring with a raging bull charging right at her wanting blood. 

“Don't do that shit again,” he threatened harshly before storming out of the room, slamming the door. She flinched at the sound and blinked at the door, eyes wide, breathing quickly, trying to hold back the tears pricking at her eyes. 

Her breathing got quicker and choppier as she started hyperventilating at that familiar, dreadful feeling from when she was trapped. She stayed at the same spot, not following him, afraid of what might happen if she did. 

A couple of days past, Amora kept her distance from him, thinking he was going to apologize for his behavior, but he never did.

Eventually she rolled it off, thinking maybe he was just having a really bad day and she made it worse; ‘it was childish of me’, she thought, and decided to apologize to him for her actions, thinking it was going to get better. 

Except it didn't; in the blink of an eye, he changed. He was getting ruder, to her being more evasive. Yelling and cussing at her, sometimes she thought he was even going to hit her.

“Maybe he found someone else,” she thought, and the thought of that crushed her. ”Did I do something wrong? How could I fix it?” Some of the thoughts were going through her, but she continued on pretending she wasn’t going in pain. 

It wasn’t until one night that he fell asleep while they were watching a movie that she got a chance to see what was going on. 

He left his phone unlocked. 

Looking quickly at the phone and back to Jay, she whispered his name, seeing if he would wake up. 

“Jay, hey Jay." She even poked him, but he didn’t stir. So, she lightly reached out, picking up his phone, trying to be as still as possible, and when it reached her, she looked at him and saw he was still sleeping. 

She gave a sigh of relief and went to open up his messages, feeling that relief being ripped and replaced with a fear so tight it was like time froze. 

Victor Ortiz

Her shaking thumb hovered over the name before tapping on it to show the recent messages. 

Sunday around 8 p.m., you'll have her—Jay. 

Will you have my money? - Jay 

Are you questioning me? - Victor

No sir- Jay

Everything felt slow, her vision going blurry. She was going to throw up. She dropped the phone and ran to the bathroom, throwing up everything she ate that day. After a last hurl, she slid back on the wall, shaking. Everything felt cold but hot. Feeling pain in her throat, making it harder for her to breathe, she ended up lying on the floor, curling into a fetal position, when her breath finally rushed out of her, but streams of tears took its place. 

She sat there for maybe 4 hours before getting up, legs shaking but a determined look on her face with a plan of getting out before she came face with that devil. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Flash back end~~~~~~~~~

Coming back out of her memories, Amora felt herself start to shatter, one crack at a time, until it all came bursting out like a dam.

She felt herself getting picked up and freaked out.

“It’s okay, Amor. I got you. I’m not going to do anything.”

When Armando's warm voice was brushing over her ear, she felt herself get placed in a warm lap, feeling strong arms wrap around her, his head nuzzling in the crook of her neck. 

She allowed herself to remain still in comfort, unsure of what to do, but the more he rubbed her back, the more she relaxed, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. Squeezing her eyes shut and practically slapping the tears off her face, she sucked her teeth, wanting to control herself so that she could finish her story. For the first time she could freely speak on it to someone. 

“I was so dumb and naive, I ignored every single sign there was, thinking the best of him in hopes of living that fairytale life... but I should've known better. That doesn't happen for someone like me,” she whispered out, hardly hearing her own voice zoning out again until she felt Armando's head shake bringing her back.

"Uhm, so that night I set up a plan and I drugged his drink.” Feeling Armando look at her in surprise, she quickly brought up her hands, shaking them, denying any accusations he could've been thinking.

”I only drugged it enough for him to fall into a deep sleep; I didn't kill him or anything!“ 

“Maybe you should've." He couldn't help quip, wiping away some of the tears falling down her round cheeks, and went back to rubbing her back.

A quick giggle slipped out of her lips at that and she whispered a quick thank you for his attempt at lightening the mood before continuing.

“I didn’t know where to go, so I just drove as far as I could. I found this abandoned house and found out who owned it, asking them if it was for sale. It was an old couple, and they just gave it to me. I took that as a good sign and blessing and immediately started to try to make money to make it livable, and this is living where I've been living for the past three years.”

“Where you've been hiding,” he corrected. She looked at him, slowly nodding her head.

“I try not to go out often, but I do when it’s necessary or when I need a little bit of normalcy. But when I do, I go disguised as Desirae and not Amora. It’s a small town, so I take extra measures, especially when it's for my fighting classes that I take every three months.”

He looked at her deeply, going over the events he had with her. Connecting dots in his head It explains a lot about her paranoia, especially when they first met, all the concealed weapons she had around, the fighting skills she practices, her alarm system, even her dog. She's just surviving, waiting for something to happen to her. That's the saddest thing he could think—such a waste for a woman like her to be hiding away from the world. Letting her become a shell, not fighting back, only letting fear whisk her away in life 

"Yep, so that's the story of Amora Johnson,” she muttered sarcastically. She knew it was very pathetic, seeing the look on the man's face. He was a man who was none of what she was. 

On days they both had nothing to do, she listened to the stories he told her of his past; he was a brave man, relentless, and didn't let anything get in his way when he was doing something. She admired him; she thought it was attractive, but she envied him, wishing she could be like that.

“Why didn't you do anything when you escaped, like go to the cops and report him?”” he asked her, curious of why she didn't take more action, why she just chose... to run and not fight back?

“I did... I went to the police station and saw familiar faces that worked at the station that would also be at the cartel, so I left before anyone noticed me not wanting to get caught, and I told Jay—my ex—but he lied obviously about helping me, so yeah. I didn't have friends either, one of the things that I allowed Jay to limit me from; he told me it wouldn't be safe that I couldn't trust anyone,” an empty, cold chuckle fell out of her lips.

“I was a damn fool,” she hissed, looking out eyes unfocused and glazed over.

It was silent between them again, Amora lost in her thoughts and Armando not having anything to say. For a bit, she sat in his lap with him still caressing her back until she snapped out of her daze and slowly got out of his lap.

Very quickly she missed the warmth and comfort of him, but knew she needed to head to her empty bed where nothing but nightmares waited for her, but she didn’t want to be weak in front of him anymore.

“Thank you... for consoling me,” she expressed weakly to him, head looking down, her hair covering her face. 

“Amora...” he spoke, but his words got caught; he didn't know what he wanted to say or if he meant anything, but he did feel for her; he knew that. 

“Yes ?’ She looked at him hopeful but scared of his reaction; it was the first time he called her by her real name, and she was fearful of whatever was going to come out of his mouth. 

“Thank you,” he spoke. A quizzical look crossed her face at the random gratitude. He gave a low chuckle at the adorable expression.

“Thank you for allowing me into your space and for trusting me with your story. I know we started off on the wrong foot, but you still gave me a chance and have gone out of your way for me. I just wanted to make sure you knew I appreciated it." His smooth voice was flying to Amora's ears like music. 

Amora's voice hitched at the appreciation. Emotions bursting inside of her but kept her self-calm.

“Just...don't make me regret it... or I'll have to kick your ass,” she tried joking with him, but she meant her word on not wanting to regret anything. She doesn't think she can handle another betrayal. 

“You won't,” came the serious answer. Their eyes were holding each other until Amora looked away, hiding the small smile on her face. 

“Good night,” she whispered to him before slowly walking out the door, giving him one small glance over her shoulder and shooting him a smile before she softly closed the door. 

His eyes followed every moment of her, until she was gone. He huffed out a deep breath, plopping back on the bed, reflecting back on the woman and all he learned tonight. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: Hey puddin! So this chapter went a bit darker, and it will probably be the last time that it does, so expect the next chapter to have fluff.

Also I see other people create links to their previous chapters to be easier to navigate, would you appreciate if I do the same, I’m new ish to Tumblr but I can figure out if it helps.

Anyways I hope you enjoyed it! 💕💕

[cowboybrunch]

a friend like you

on being in love with a straight woman

She called it emotional limbo: the act between hooking up and committing, the quiet space between each word in the phrase I like you. I kissed her knuckles, but she pushed my hand away when I touched her face. She slept in my bed, but always packed an overnight bag. Always left before noon.

We never really discussed it. I mean, we pretended to. She sat me down, said in between and I said, I like you, I like you…

A tug-of-war where neither of us were gaining any ground, and just as I was inching her towards the mud (I’m thinking about my future), she dug in her heels and pulled (we are so young, we are so young).

But it was fun, probably because we were evenly matched and outmatched and mismatched, so we kept on. She painted sunsets on my bare back; I wrote poetry on her palms. Waited for her to wake, ink on her cheek and a groggy good morning before she went into the bathroom to brush her teeth, closing the door behind her. The walls sighed memories of the night before, of a hundred nights before and a hundred times I had not seen her brush her teeth.

An hour later, she was gone, and I was sipping coffee alone while thumbing through a book she let me borrow, some teen romance that she found in her childhood bedroom and held close to her when her bed was too cold to sleep. The cover was bent, and a corner had been torn off, maybe littered somewhere in her hometown, maybe lodged in deep grass sometime in March. When the rain came, it became soft and cried with all of the strength in the tip of the t it held so closely. I ran my finger over the jagged edge and thought about calling her.

But I didn’t. I didn’t because of the jagged edge and the way her hair tickled my chin on the mornings that she let me hold her. We were not together. We were not together.

I was walking to class when my phone rang. I didn’t expect to see her name. I didn’t expect to answer. Her rule, not mine: No calls before 6pm. Don’t text me heart-eyed emojis. Don’t ask me what I had for lunch. 

I answered.

I didn’t speak first. She sounded tired. She told me that she forgot her sweater at my house. I turned around. The class wasn’t that important anyway, and I knew at least one person that would probably be willing to share their notes. Whenever. I’m home for a few hours. My class got canceled. She said she’d come by soon. She sounded like she was smiling.

She was there when I got back, tapping her foot, scrolling on her phone. She looked up when she heard my footsteps. I thought you were home. I told her I went for a walk. She didn’t believe me, but she moved aside so I could unlock the door. She didn’t pause for permission, just headed straight for my bedroom and scooped her sweater off the ground.

She was so comfortable in my space, and I was so willing to make space for her. There was room enough for both of us. We could’ve made space for both of us.

I should get going.

Oh. A beat of silence. I thought maybe we could grab lunch? Since my class is canceled.

She turned away before the sentence fully left my mouth. We talked about this. And she was right. We did.

We also talked about afternoon phone calls. I didn’t know why I said it. I didn’t know why I bothered saying it.

I just needed my sweater.

That’s not fair.

Silence again. I watched her shoulders tense. You’re trying to make something out of nothing. That’s what’s unfair. She moved to leave. My palms were sweaty. She opened the door. I couldn't reach her.

Would it be different if I were a man?

She didn’t look back at me. She slammed the door on her way out.

[shepherds-of-haven]

Hiya! Sorry to bother, I really love SoH and I'm sure you hear this all the time but your writing is so amazing I can't help but come back and reread what's available just for fun! ♥

I have a small wonder, My main MC is going for exRed romance just full steam no eyes for anyone else and it's been a fun ride to watch them be so affectionate yet hesitant I gotta wonder though what the rest of the gang thinks having to watch their ridiculous dance? (I fully believe chase has a betting pool for when they get together.)

In Red's case, I think he's naturally affectionate/subtle/socially-mindful enough to not come off as stupidly over-the-top with his feelings in a really obvious or public way; because he's proceeding cautiously with an ex-MC and deliberately "feeling things out" without wanting to make them uncomfortable/make a fool out of himself, I don't think it'd be as obvious to others what's going on between him and MC unless they went to school with them both and witnessed the history there? (AKA Pan, Neon, etc.). For everyone else, it's:

Blade: literally doesn't think anything of it (unless he's also romantically interested in MC)--from his perspective, Red is equally friendly/comfortable/flirtatious with pretty much everyone, plus it would make sense that their being old friends/former lovers would come with certain closeness. In other words, he's not thinking about it

Trouble: took Red and MC at their word and just thinks they dated when they were teens, does not notice anything remarkable going on between them, but he can be naturally a bit dense in that area (though sometimes he isn't)

Tallys: oh my god just hook up already, the tension is starting to get under her skin lol she's of the camp that they should just jump each other and get it over with

Shery: she's 👀 and watching with bated breath, and subtly concocting excuses for them to be together, like "oh MC I needed to deliver a message to Red in his lab, but I'm "busy", could you please let him know so-and-so while I go do this other thing?"

Riel: he's actually broached the topic with Red before out of curiosity because the romantic tension was sooooo obvious to him: it was a really brief conversation because Red was caught so off-guard by Riel going "so are you going to tell MC you still have feelings for them/do you want to try things again?" that he just sort of looked at Riel blankly, but they sort of fumbled their way through a conversation where Red was sort of airing his thoughts/asking for advice and Riel was just like clinically listening?? and then they never talked about it again, lol. It's not like Riel ships them, he was just interested in what was going through Red's head at the time, and now he doesn't really care anymore, whatever happens is between them! but now and again Red will look up from subtle flirting with MC, catch Riel's eye, and Riel will have this unimpressed face like 🙄

Chase: gleefully has a (private) betting pool and trolls Red/the two of them as often as he possibly can without entering the zone of over-interference, much like an ecologist trying to observe a rare animal without over-affecting its natural behavior

Ayla: she notices if she's romantically interested in MC, but otherwise shelves their behavior as "things exes/old friends must do, which I wouldn't have any personal experience with, so I guess that makes sense to me" and doesn't give much romantic significance to the way they act around each other, that just must be how it is! 🤷🏻‍♀️ She'd be really surprised if someone like Lavinet was like, "Oh, darling, they are obviously still mad about each other..." Ayla: "oh, I just thought their whole thing was how all former lovers who stayed friends acted." Lavinet and Briony: noooooo

Briony: she is peak shipper for ex!Red and MC, she picks up on things right away and is watching both of them with her ponytail whipping back and forth like she's at a tennis match 👀, she's squealing and swooning internally every time they smile over a book together and is like barely keeping things together out of respect to them...

Lavinet: she's amused and intrigued by what's going on, ex-lovers who reunite years later is so inherently romantic, it's like something out of a drama!!! She's smirking and making sly comments here and there to sort of nudge things along now and then, but otherwise she subscribes to the "leave no trace" observing from a distance mentality rather than an active interference (unless her interference is specifically requested, in which case she's all hands on deck)!

Halek: didn't even realize they're exes, I think because no one told him or he wasn't paying attention, he just thinks they're Like That (as in, they want to bang each other, obviously, he just figures they're dragging their feet about it because they work together or something)

[reikodoesfanstuff]

No one asked, but I feel like Durge and Enver have nearly the exact same ways they show affection. (Is it good that I put the keep reading so high up? IDK anything about Tumblr etiquette lol)

Enver, coming from a poor family, so much so that he was sold, would go out of his way to shower his nearest and dearest with gifts. It would be things like an expensive wine, maybe a few pieces of jewelry, or an intricately made (but still deadly) dagger. He would also slowly buy Durge so many clothes that, eventually, they're dressed fully in things gifted by Enver. And he's so into that.

He's also brilliant and known to have a silver tongue, they have to be writing verbose and seductive letters or poems back and forth. Enver would be writing things like, "Once the world is mine I will gift it to you and we'll rule together", "Watching hardened killers tremble at your feet makes me envious of their position", or "With me, you'll want for nothing but more pleasure than you can handle." And he sends them within the boxes of his gifts, neatly written and topped with a wax seal of Bane's hand.

Durge, as we know from the "Forgive Me Father" letter, is also a bit of a wordsmith. Their letters would be of a similar tone to Enver's but the words are more like, "Every second spent without your voice in my ears is a new layer added to the hells", "I will hunt your every adversary and ensure they know only misery in your name." and even, "The urge to flay you alive and hear your pretty screams cannot be matched by my need to experience your body as you writhe in the deepest carnal pleasures." All of their poems are haphazardly written on whatever paper scrap Durge can find and half illegible due to being delivered in the open mouths of severed skulls or crumpled in palms of corpses hand-delivered to his chambers when no one's around. Sometimes, they would even be a political rival of Enver's, which they both think is very romantic.

And on that note, body parts are Durge's favorite gift, by far. Bloodied hearts, severed hands holding out a single red rose, cold fingers spelling out a simple message like "Love you" or "Stay safe" or sometimes just a heart shape are left in increasingly intimate places in Enver's home. His front door, the living room, bedroom, and even his bathtub had a corpse display one time! How cute. Durge had quite a hand in raising Enver's political status this way, some were by accident.

And you can't tell me those babes don't shower each other in physical affection behind closed doors. Enver was never shown any compassion as a child. Even worse, he was beaten, often. And now, in adulthood, he can't trust those he brings to his bed as they don't know who he really is or just want the power associated with him. Durge never connected to anyone personally or romantically so physical touch was a rare commodity. They have killed every bed partner at some point in the affair, as the urge commanded. But with Enver, they refuse to listen to it. They want Enver alive, against their father's wishes. As a result, both of them are touch-starved and refuse to keep their hands off each other when alone.

[hearts-hunger]

big squeeze || josh kiszka x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Cabin Fever Masterlist

Summary: When you need a little extra love, Josh knows just the thing to help.

Pairings: Josh x Reader, Danny x Reader (platonic) | Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort | Word Count: 1k | Warnings: mentions of family drama

A/N: Hi! Here's a little fluff for your evening! I hope you like it! ♡

“Oh, for the love.”

You rolled your eyes at the most recent text and turned your phone off, putting the argument out of sight but unfortunately not out of mind. You looked over at Josh and saw him studying your face with a bemused and mildly worried gaze.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. He offered a smile. “Sam’s sending you memes again?”

You wished you could have coaxed out a laugh, but you couldn’t manage it. 

“Yeah, I wish.” You set your phone on the side table and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back further into the uncomfortable green room couch.

“Family shit,” you said after a moment, knowing Josh was hoping for an explanation. “It’s stupid. My family’s exhausting sometimes.”

His expression softened. “I’m sorry, baby. Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head. “No, thanks.” You glanced over and saw the notebook he had open on his lap, the pages covered in lyrics written in his messy scrawl, some of them crossed out, some of them with charming little doodles beside them.

“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” you said softly.

A frown tugged at his features. “Why not?”

You shrugged, embarrassed by the drama you still seemed to get roped up in with your family, wishing you could forget about it altogether and be fully present for your boys. They were doing a radio show in a little while, and they’d invited you and Sparrow to hang out at the studio. Sparrow and the rest of the guys were having a grand old time exploring the studio and raiding the snack bar; you’d gone off on your own to fight with your family over text, and Josh had come to share your couch keep you company even before he’d known what was wrong.

He closed his notebook. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

You ran a hand over your face. “I want to forget about it,” you said truthfully. “And I don’t want to bother you with stuff like this, especially when you’re working.”

“You’re never a bother, baby,” he reminded you gently. “You know that.”

All of a sudden, you felt like crying. “Thank you, Josh.”

“Aw, sweetheart.” He took your hand. “What can I do? I want to help.”

You breathed a mirthless laugh, not really surprised to feel a couple tears fall. “You can fix all my family’s trauma.”

His smile was wry and impossibly tender as he brushed his fingers over your cheek to dry your tears. 

“Something within my power to do, preferably,” he teased gently. “But I’ll certainly try if you want me to.”

You sighed and leaned into his touch. “I don’t know. I feel all... twisted up. Nervous.”

He gave a thoughtful hum. “I think I know something that can help.” He stood. “Are you okay with being touched?”

You nodded, a little bemused as you looked up at him. “Where are you going?”

He smiled. “To get something that’ll help.” He kissed your forehead. “Be right back.”

You watched him go, wondering what on earth he was going to get, wondering why he’d asked if you were okay with being touched only to leave right after. You resisted the urge to pick up your phone when it buzzed again, trying not to get dragged back into the tennis match of stupid texts.

A minute later, Josh came back into the room with Danny right behind him.

“Ta-da!” Josh said, proudly presenting his brother. “Instant serotonin.”

Danny looked you over with a bit of worry as you stood. “Josh said you needed a hug.”

Your heart wobbled. Your gentle giant Danny was famous for his bear hugs, and he was always generous with them when one of his friends needed a little extra love.

“I figured a hug would feel good,” Josh explained. “But I’m a small man, you know this. My hugs aren’t crushing with love. Danny can give you the whole weighted blanket effect.”

Your laugh was watery and tight with emotion. “Yeah, I mean, if...” You looked up at Danny, a little shy. “If you want to.”

He gave you a warm smile. “Come here, trouble.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist and instantly felt his arms go around you with a broad, safe, secure affection. He squeezed you tight and gave a contented groan.

“Oh, there we go,” he said happily, rocking you side to side a little. “Big squeeze.”

You smiled to yourself, comfortably crushed against him, knowing without a doubt you were loved and cared for and wanted. You couldn’t help but relax some of the tension in your frame as Danny hugged you, totally safe for a few blissful moments wrapped in his arms.

When you felt a little jelly-legged and more relaxed than you’d felt all day, he gave you one last squeeze and let you go.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Thanks, Dan.”

He grinned and gave you a goofy kiss on the forehead. “You’re welcome. Come get me if you need another.”

He gave Josh a quick smooch on the cheek as he left. “Here. A little something for you, too.”

Josh giggled and playfully pushed Danny away. “You’re a nut, Daniel.”

You heard Danny laugh as he went to rejoin the rest of your friends, and you turned to your boyfriend with a grateful smile.

“Thank you for getting him, Josh.” Your friends were the most precious thing in the world to you next to him, and you were always thankful to be so loved and cared for by the people you loved most.

His smile was gentle. “You’re welcome, honey.” He came close and gave you a hug of his own, not as squeezy as Danny’s, but every bit as nice. You rested your head on his shoulder as he drew his hands up and down your back.

“Did it help?” he asked.

You nodded. He kissed your temple.

“I’m glad,” he said softly. “I knew it would. You needed a good squeeze, and our Danny’s very talented at it.”

“Yeah,” you said, and your voice was tight. You looked up at him. “How do you always know how to take care of me like you do?”

He smiled. “I love to learn how to love you,” he said simply. He laughed. “It's kind of like a hobby. Before we got together, I’d find out something that you liked and promise myself that I’d remember it, so that if I ever worked up the courage to tell you I loved you, I would know all the things that made you happy.”

You framed his beloved face with your hands. “You know you're at the top of that list, right?”

You felt his smile under your hands as you saw it light up his face.

“You’re so sweet, baby.” He kissed you. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I love you very much.”

He hugged you again, and you rested against him. “I love you very much too.”

(i'll rb with tags later because i don't want to wrestle with tumblr right now djhjdhb)

[ssserpensortiaaa]

We neeeeeeed more James x Slytherin reader 😍

oh my it's been a while but let's just think about this for a second shall we:

James has been arguing with Slytherins his entire Hogwarts career

But at some point during final year he starts finding it difficult to keep going

He doesn't fully understand why, until one day when you're ranting in his face about how yesterday's quidditch results were a fix

It's the first real argument you've had in a while, and it's only because your accusations that Gryffindor would even need to cheat are frankly insane

And he's halfway through his rebuttal, glaring down at your face, when it occurs to him. And it's stupid but, Slytherin are out of the championship, which means -

You've played your final quidditch match together.

Ever

He doesn't even know where you're going after school ends

And you must see it in his face because you change too

Your shoulders drop and your eyes go a little bit wide

"Oh. I'm not sure I like that look."

James has to run a hand through his hair and huff out a laugh because he doesn't know what to do

7 years of petty arguments feel like they've just melted away with one stupid realisation

They're never going to play quidditch together again

Because they're about to fight a war

James blinks and studies your face again

It feels important now, to commit you to memory

His chest crushes in a bit when he starts to think about how things could have been, and how badly it could end up, all at once

He's wasted so much time

"Merlin, you're pretty"

It just comes out, before he stop it

And it's so mournful and melodramatic it sounds ridiculous

You take one look at him and laugh, and suddenly James can breathe again

"Sorry." He manages to choke out "Don't know where that came from"

You're cackling and it's gorgeous

"Impending doom really changes people, huh"

You're joking but it's true

And from that day on he can't seem to argue with you even a little bit

It's not for lack of trying, you bait him constantly

But somewhere along the way he manages to ask you questions and get a few answers that aren't sarcastic

And at some point he doesn't stop himself when he stands just a little closer to you than normal

One day he's walking with you to charms and he just absentmindedly takes the books from your hands and carries them for you

Sometimes you catch him looking at you and frowning, then running a hand through his hair in that cute way he does when he's stressed

That's when it occurs to you that you've been wanting to run your hands through his hair for... merlin knows how long now

And suddenly that same melancholy you laughed at when it was written all over his face the other day hits you like a train

Because you've just realised you had 7 years and you didn't use even one

You must have been staring because James' eyes flick back to yours and he holds your gaze steady for a few long seconds

Then he laughs, the bastard, and gives you an exaggerated shrug

Now he's mouthing 'impending doom' across the classroom and it finally shakes you out of it

Right, yeah. Everyone keeps doing it lately - thinking too much about the war and getting this glazed look and aching nostalgia

Your face must have been a picture

But he saddles up close to you at the end of class and dips his head down

His nose nuzzles into your neck as he murmurs

"Tell me what you were thinking about, just then"

You huff and roll your eyes to cover the shiver that wants to run down your spine

"A bad idea"

"Hmm." His hand circles your wrist and you have the horrible sense he's seeing right through you

"Sure. Tell me when you change your mind."

Then he's gone, and you're left talking yourself out of chasing after him

The parties start a few days after your little realisation

If there was one thing this impending war made everyone want to do, apparently it was drink

it didn't even matter where or with who

Which was how you found yourself tipsy and a little giggly, getting escorted back to your bed by James Potter

You've been tormented by that cream jumper he's wearing

It makes his shoulders look so broad but it also looks so soft

And now he's leaning against a wall and rolling it up his forearms while he checks round the corner for any patrolling teachers

And you can barely help it

"James?"

"Yes?"

"I think I'm changing my mind"

He has you in an empty classroom in ten seconds flat,

but you barely notice because your back is against the wall and his hands are around your thighs, easily lifting you up to wrap them around his waist

"You're sure?" He's murmuring against your lips

and you think you say "'s already too late" before you're kissing and it's so much better and all so much worse at the same time

because he's perfect, the kiss is perfect, the feel of his hair wrapped around your fingers is perfect, and you've done it all too late

and fuck, James is devastatingly good

He's groaning things in your ear that make you blush and then calling you sweet little names that make you melt inside

The second time you get him alone he winds a hand in your hair, pulling just enough to feel good, and makes you look him in the eye while he makes you come

He cooes at you while you do, telling you how beautiful you look, how good you are for him, and you're gone

The next time you can't quite choke back your sob while you say

"We did this too late"

But he grabs your chin and says

"Better make it count, then"

before making you see stars

That time he doesn't leave, just bundles you up in his arms and smuggles you right into his bed

He's just so warm and soft

It's the best night's sleep you've ever had

You wake up and see him looking at you with that sad expression again

You huff and close your eyes

"James?"

"Yeah?"

"We're absolutely fucked, aren't we?"

A laugh

"Yeah."