Quiet Acts Of Love That Make Me Cry 🫂

This man is built like a brick house goddamn

Reading this at dawn made it all the more sweeter 💕💌

𝜗𝜚 MY LOVE , MINE, ALL MINE, ALL MINE ❤︎𝄢..

📞 — aftercare with JASON TODD 𝜗𝜚

✉️ — contents : : aftercare , mentions of jay's scars , fluff , yearner!jason todd , first time having sex ( in their relationship ) , grammatical errors , ooc (?)

✉️ — word count : : 1.9k

✉️ — vi whispers : : woohoo !! we reached 700!! also,, i'm still in the hospital, unfortunately. but i will be doing an event 😋 just expect,,, late responsdjes. back to my oldoldold format!!! NOW. this is acc for @fromdove !! like,, remember when i told you that i'll write you a reply?? well, here it is !! lol, how dare you be upset. + will be redoing my m.list. couldn't edit this bc my mom took my laptop

your skin still tingles. it's as if your entire body is remembering what just occurred in waves ▰ the weight of his palms, the way he spoke your name like it was something sacred. the air smells of sweat & heat & him. all is black except for the warm yellow light from the hallway seeping in through the half-open door. the blankets are kicked halfway off the bed, wrapped around your ankle. you're there with your chest rising & falling slow, like the only thing holding you to earth is the weight of his body beside yours.

he's on your side, one arm slung over your waist, forehead against your shoulder. breathing hard like he's still trying to come down. his palm glides up. your ribcage ▰ not sexually, just there, anchoring himself with you. his lips brush the back of your neck. you feel him smile a little.

"you okay?" he asks, but it's softer than normal. almost like he's afraid to screw this up.

you hum, nod, still panting. "yeah. better than okay."

jason pulls nack a little so that he can see your face. his hair is standing up in a dozen different directions, cheeks flushed, lips puffy. his eyes are dark & gentle & so, so exhausted. but they're all for you like you're the only thing in the world that exists. like perhaps he still can't get his head around you being with him, still with him after ▰ & not just forgotten like everything else.

"good," he mutters, but he still scans your face like he's trying to verify something. then, a beat behind, he adds, "didn't mean to be too rough."

you snort. "you weren't."

he's not looking convinced. his fingers are drawing small circles along your hip now. he doesn't say a word, just presses a kiss to your temple & exhales like his entire body is deflating. you reach down, grasp his hand in yours & bring it to your lips. kiss his knuckles. it's slow, gentle, & something in his chest stutters. cracks. hitched.

he rolls onto his back, arm still wrapped around your waist, & glares up at the ceiling as if it has answers scribbled all over it. his throat bobs as he swallows hard. you can tell he's thinking too much. his walls are still up, just thinner now ▰ llike he's cracking his door open a little, even if he's afraid.

"you sure you're okay?" he repeats. & it was the first time you both had sex ever since you two officially became a couple. & it's not just sex. it's everything. about how much he wishes he could be good to you. about the thousand demons in his chest that tell him he can't.

you shift closer until you're half on top of him, nose bumping his jaw. "jason," you whisper, & that's all it takes for him to relax a little.

his arm wraps tighter around you as if he's scared you'll disappear if he releases you. his other hand runs through your hair, hesitant at first, then more insistent, like he remembers you like it that way. he kisses your forehead, your cheek, the edge of your mouth. over & over, slow & soft, worshipping. he doesn't speak but his hands do ▰ they say thank you & i missed you even though we live in the same apartment & don't go.

his voice is hoarse when he speaks again at last. "lemme get you water."

"don't wanna move."

"i'll carry you."

you laugh into his neck. "you're naked."

he smiles, a little. "so are you."

"bold of you to assume i'm getting up."

"fine," he breathes, leaning his head to kiss you again on the jaw. "we'll dehydrate together. tragically romantic."

he doesn't actually get up for another couple of minutes. just stays there with you on top of him, fingers brushing the curve of your back, languid & awed. but after a bit he rolls over, pats your leg.

"alright," he says softly, "give me two seconds." & already he's slipping under & away from you.

he stands, stretches, runs a hand through his hair. & god ▰ you look. he's hot. you can't help it. the way his back curves, all that muscle shifting under skin like a sculpture made of marble that stood up & decided to look at you like that. he notices you looking & grins, wicked. bitch.

"take a picture," he jokes, picking up his sweats from the floor. "it'll last longer."

you toss a pillow at him. he catches it in mid·air, smiling. "what, can't handle the view?"

"get me water, todd."

he salutes, tugging the sweats on. "yes ma'am."

you watch him walk out & your heart kind of… swells. not just because he’s hot ▰ he is, but it’s more than that. it’s the way he hums under his breath when he thinks you’re not listening. the way he double checks the temperature of the water before bringing it to you. the way he wants to take care of you, even if he’s still learning what that means.

he returns with water & a protein bar. holds the cup to your lips like you're royalty & he's your servant, which cracks you up again. until he says "drink" with this expression that shuts you up real quick. you sip a few times. he stands there the entire time like your health is the most important thing in the world.

you remove the cup from him & place it, then pull him back onto the bed. "your turn," you tell him, pushing his hair behind his ears. "you okay?"

he stiffens a little. as if he wasn't expecting that. as if he forgot that people are allowed to ask him that too.

his voice is gentle when he speaks. "yeah. i just…"

he trails off. but you know. you know.

you run your fingers over his chest. "you don't have to say it."

he nods, then leans in & kisses you again. slow & deep & a little desperate. like he's trying to memorize this. the safety. the closeness. you let him. you kiss him back until he sighs against your lips, until he lets his shoulders relax under your hands, until he's not red hood or a broken boy or the bat's second sidekick ▰ just jason. just yours.

he buries his face in your neck afterwards, whispering, "you're really okay?"

you kiss his shoulder. "yeah. are you?"

he pauses. "i will be."

you hug him closer.

he's so close. you can feel the thump of his heart in the way he presses his chest against yours. it's a slow thrum. not quick, but gentle. intimate. honest. he's not letting you go anytime soon, & honestly, you don't want him to. his mouth leaves tiny kisses along your neck, slow & deliberate, like he's playing catch-up. perhaps he doesn't realize that you see it, but the way his hands are trembling ever so slightly is all you need to know. he's still hesitant, still so goddamned starved for you even though he already has you. there’s something in him that doesn’t stop needing to touch, to feel, as if it’s the only thing that keeps him grounded.

you bite your lip, pushing your fingers through his messy hair. his eyes flicker open & meet yours, half-lidded with exhaustion but intense.

“you’re really here,” he murmurs. like he needs to hear it out loud.

"yeah, jason," you reply softly, tracing your thumb over his cheek. "i'm right here."

he leans his forehead against yours, releasing a breath as if he's not saying anything. his arms wrap tighter around you once more, as if he's worried that you're going to get away if he doesn't hold on. you roll over onto your back, pulling him along with you, the blanket wrapped around your ankles. it's silent for a bit, the only noise is the constant thrum of the city out there & the slow, thudding pulse of his breathing.

then, out of nowhere, he begins kissing you again. slow at first, just his lips grazing against yours. but then, he goes deeper. soft & hungry, his hands cradling your face like you could break. it's warm, it's soft, & you can feel every inch of him. when he pulls back, he gazes at you with uncertainty. his lips red, his hair disheveled, his face too vulnerable for the jason todd you once thought you'd known.

"don't go," he utters softly, & it's as if his entire universe hangs in the balance.

you smile, weaving your fingers through his hair once more. "i'm not going anywhere."

he sighs, a little relieved. but the moment doesn’t last long before his fingers start feeling your body again, gently this time ▰ tracing the line of your spine, the curve of your hip, your stretch marks. his thumb runs over your wrist, brushing lightly, like he’s memorizing you, like he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t miss a single detail of you.

you reach up to touch his chest, & feel his muscles tighten beneath your fingers. he winces a little when your hand slips down, causing him to brush across a scar, but doesn't flinch. instead, he appears to lean into the touch, as though he's finding peace in it.

"sorry," he grunts softly, looking down. "forgot about the scars."

you glance at him, tracing the line of his jaw with your hand. "don't apologize for them," you tell him softly. "they're part of you. and i… i like all of you, jay."

he swallows hard, his chest tightening. "yeah? even the broken ones?"

"especially the hurt ones," you answer ( & corrected ) without hesitation, your eyes locking with his with all the sincerity in the world.

he nods, lips shaking, before he leans in to kiss you once more. this is a softer, slower kiss, like he's trying to say everything he doesn't know how to put into words. when he pulls back, his forehead pressed against yours. his hand wraps around your waist, his fingers digging in a little.

you lay a hand to his chest, tracing little circles over his heart. "you're good, jason," you whisper. "you're more than good."

he shakes his head slightly, closing his eyes for a moment as if your words are too much to take in. then, he nuzzles into your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “don’t think i know how to do this,” he says quietly, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "like. this. i don't know what you need."

you smile gently, tracing your fingers through his hair once more. "just be here with me," you breathe. "that's all i need."

he grunts in his throat. but he does not argue. instead, he glides closer, holding you against him as if he is afraid you might slip out of his hands. his lips brush the top of your head, & he stays there, his breathing slow & even against your skin.

you can tell he's going out of his way. attempting to do this right ▰ despite not knowing if he knows he's doing it wrong or not, he's learning, kiss by tender kiss, touch by tender touch. he wants you to feel at peace with him( you are ). he wants to take care of you, even though he's terrified that he's going to get it all wrong.

you lean into him, your body against his, & shut your eyes. "you're doing it right," you whisper. "this is perfect. so are you."

his arms wrap tighter around you once more, & for a second, you think you're the only thing that matters to him. his voice is husky when he talks, low & rough. "i'm not perfect, you know."

you kiss his chest, your lips touching the scar on his ribs. "you don't need to be," you say. "just.. be you. that's all i need, jason."

© MINORLYATFAULT 2025

Literal poetry 😭💕

toxic!dad!rafe acting guilty and sweet around reader while she takes care of his kids because he acted her soo bad yesterday:( maybe hit her, maybe telling her reallyy bad things and she got hurt

This is so good wtf I love this idea it's lowkey fucked me up tho 😔

The morning was quiet, save for the soft tune of a lullaby Y/N absentmindedly hummed under her breath. She sat on the floor of the living room, legs folded beneath her, while her daughter sat in front of her, small and fidgety as Y/N carefully braided her soft curls. The little girl giggled every time her mothers fingers tickled the back of her neck, her chubby hands clutching her stuffed bunny tightly.

“Almost done, baby”

She murmured, gently smoothing her daughter’s hair before looping the final section of the braid. Her reflection in the door leading out to the garden, it caught her off guard. The faintest streak of red where Rafe’s signet ring had nicked her skin. The light swelling of her cheek, just enough to make her wince when she thought too hard about what had happened. Her breath hitched, and she squeezed her eyes shut, pushing the memory away but the calm didnt last for long.

She felt him before she saw him.

Rafe’s presence lingered in the doorway, heavy and suffocating. She knew he was watching- had probably been watching for a while now. Still, she didn’t acknowledge him, she just kept braiding. Rafe cleared his throat.

“I, uh- made you that tea y'like...”

Y/N didn’t respond. He shifted on his feet as he looked down to the little girl sitting. He muttered, nodding toward their daughter’s hair.

“Looks nice”

Y/N tied off the braid with a small elastic as she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her daughter’s head before nudging her forward.

“Go show your bunny baby”

The toddler wobbled off, giggling as she held the braid over her shoulder, showing it off to her stuffed animal like it was the best thing in the world. Y/N took a breath, exhaling slowly, then pushed herself off the floor. She barely got a step away before Rafe moved, cutting her off.

“Y/N…”

His voice was softer now. Careful. Like he knew he was treading dangerous ground. She felt his fingers barely graze her arm, his touch feather-light as they trailed down- over the bruise he left on her wrist, over the soreness beneath her skin. But then he stopped.

Right at her cheek.

The pad of his thumb brushed over the small cut, and she flinched causing him to pull away immediately. She turned to him then, finally looking at him. The guilt was evident in his face, but she said nothing.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t.”

Her voice cracked, but she didn’t waver. His jaw clenched slightly, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. Not in anger- just restraint.

“I just... fuck Y/N, I don’t wanna fight—”

“You didn’t seem to mind last night.”

A hollow laugh escaped her lips, quiet and humorless. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, letting out a sigh as his head nodded a little.

“I know.”

She shook her head, turning away from him, her eyes landing on their daughter who now sat near her play pen, enamoured with some pink blocks wheezie had bought her.

“What were you even so angry about, Rafe? What was so fucking bad that you had to hit me?”

He paused at her words, yet her voice wasn’t yelling. It wasn’t even angry anymore. That made it worse.

“I—” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.

“I don’t know.”

He did know.

It had started over something stupid. He had been out late- again. She had called him- again, multiple times, like she did every night. And when he finally came home, she had been pissed—rightfully so. Their argument had escalated soon after that;

"You can’t just disappear all night, Rafe."

Her voice was irritated but careful- not because she wasn’t angry, but because she knew better than to raise it in the house when everyone was asleep. Knew that if anyone overheard, it would just give him another reason to twist things around, to make her seem like the problem starter.

"I was handling business."

Rafe’s voice was humerously calm, but it wasn’t apologetic. It was clipped, defensive, like he was already prepared for a fight. Like he had expected this reaction from her. Y/N scoffed, folding her arms across her chest.

"Oh, right. ‘Business.’ That’s what we’re calling it now?"

That got his attention. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of something dark crossing his face as he took a slow step closer. He muttered out, voice sharp and dangerously low.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means, jesus Rafe. You're a dad now—you can't do this shit anymore."

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. Her arms tightened around herself, her voice cracking just slightly before she forced it steady again.

"You can’t be out all night doing God knows what and then just waltz back in like nothing happened."

"I just told you, I was handling shit."

He exhaled harshly through his nose, running a hand over his face. She shook her head as she looked at him, her hands were shaking from the fact she was arguing with him in the first place but she couldn't stop herself anymore.

"Handling what?"

She shot back, her voice strained but still hushed. She was tired- exhausted even. She'd been looking after their baby girl all by herself, days and nights, and she'd had enough. She was miserable and that's not what she wanted to be

"Whatever bullshit mess you got yourself into again? Do you even think about her? Do you care you've left me by my—"

"Of course I care." His jaw tensed, his entire body wound tight like a spring.

"Don’t fucking act like I don’t care."

He snapped at her and she took a step back, shaking her head, the lump in her throat growing.

"Well you don’t act like it."

She let the words hang between them for a second, watching his expression shift, his lips parting slightly before pressing into a thin line. She was so sick of his shit, she just wanted to scream at him, but she didn't- she couldnt. Yet before she could stop herself the words fell from her mouth,

"You're just like him, you know that?"

His entire body went rigid as the sentense passed her lips, and he instantly tured around to face her.

"What?"

Her throat felt tight, but she didn’t back down. "You're just like your dad." she whispered.

"Someone who pretends to care about his family but in reality—"

The slap came fast.

A sharp, stinging pain shot through her cheek, her head whipping to the side as she gasped. His signet ring sliced against her skin, the warmth of blood rising in its place almost instantly.

Silence

She barely registered the sound of her breath hitching, or the way her vision blurred for a second before sharpening on the floor. Everything felt muted, heavy. Her cheek burned and her ears rang, the sound reverberating. Rafe was just standing there, breathing hard. His chest rose and fell quickly, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides at the burn in his palm. His eyes weren’t on hers. No, they were fixated on the mark he had just left, on the crimson dot blooming just below her cheekbone. And then, his voice—low but edged with something unsettling.

"Don't ever fucking say that to me."

Her eyes were now unreadable, dark with exhaustion and something heavier. He hadn’t seen her cry last night. Not in front of him. Not after she had staggered back from the slap, a thin line of red appearing beneath her cheekbone where his ring had nicked her skin. She had just gone quiet and that had fucked with him more than anything.

“I just wanna make it up to you.”

Rafe said now, voice barely above a whisper. Y/N blinked, eyes burning as she mumbled out in return.

“I don't know...”

She stood there, breathing him in- his presence, his guilt, his need to smooth things over like last night never happened. Her cheek still stung faintly, the cut from his ring a sharp reminder of how far he’d taken it. And yet, Rafe was standing there, looking at her like he was the one hurting. Like he was suffering under the weight of his own actions. Her lips parted, words barely forming before she was cut off-

“Dada!”

Their daughter’s voice broke through the thick tension, her small feet pattering against the hardwood as she toddled toward them. She latched onto Rafe’s trousers with both hands, tugging insistently.

“Up!”

She demanded, eyes big and expectant. Y/N’s stomach twisted the moment Rafe bent down without hesitation, scooping their little girl into his arms with ease. His large hand supporying her small frame, letting her rest against him.

“Forgive me, please”

He murmured again, but this time, his voice was softer, edged with something sweeter. Y/N swallowed, throat tightening.

She knew what he was doing.

He knew she wouldn’t start a fight with him while their daughter was in his arms. He knew she wouldn’t reject him, not with their little girl looking between them, not with her small hands resting against his chest, oblivious to the storm simmering beneath the surface of her parents relationship. Rafe studied her carefully, watching the way her expression shifted- conflicted, torn. His grip on their daughter tightened ever so slightly, a silent reminder of what was between them, what they shared.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispered.

“Let me fix this.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, her gaze flickering to their daughter. She was sucking her thumb now, head resting lazily on Rafe’s shoulder, so blissfully unaware. She clenched her jaw, blinking rapidly at the water pooling on her waterline, lips pressing together into a thin line. And then- their daughter, still nestled in Rafe’s arms- turned her head slightly, her little eyes locking onto Y/N’s. The small hand that had been contently resting against Rafe’s chest now reached out towards her, fingers wiggling with in a grabbing motion.

An unspoken demand for her to come closer.

Y/N’s chest tightened. The sight of their daughter’s small, innocent gesture, that soft yearning for her mother, cracked through her resolve. She had no words, just the flutter in her chest with caused her breath to hitch.

“Okay”

Y/N whispered, so quietly it could’ve been mistaken for a breath. Rafe’s eyes softened, a glint of triumph flashing briefly before he stepped forward, a slow, deliberate smile tugging at his lips. Before Y/N could fully process the shift, Rafe closed the space between them, pulling her closer and capturing her lips in a kiss.

It was slow.

Sweet.

The kind that carried an underlying ache, as though they both knew that they were only putting a temporary bandage over something far more complicated. But in that moment, Y/N didn’t pull away, she couldn't bring herself to. Instead she let him kiss her and let herself fall back into the illusion of peace.

this lowkey made me want to sob. . . ?

sleep well tonight, lt. curtis biddick

pairing: lt. curtis “curt” biddick x black fem oc

content: curtis isn’t a writer, but he’ll do whatever it takes to keep in contact with his wife during the water.

an: thanks to @turn-thy-paige, we’ve got some new content. thank you for the ideas!

Curtis wasn’t much of a writer. Most of his expression came verbally through run-on sentences or curt responses. But that wasn’t so easy being thousands of miles away from home with no access to a telephone. He hated writing, but he did it for her. He’d do anything for her.

The barracks were quiet. Most of the men had fallen asleep long before he had. The sky was dark, like a blanket had covered the sun. The sounds of wolves howling in the distance and insects chirping in the grass were a gentle melody to his ears.

Curtis tapped the blank paper on the bedside table and brought a pen in his hand. Slowly, he began to write.

Hey honey,

It’s been a long day. I’ve been awake for almost 24 hours and I still can’t seem to go to sleep. Crazy, right? I’ll try my best once I finish this letter.

How have you been? I hope you’re keeping that beautiful smile on your face and staying in the highest of hopes. I miss you dearly. It’s hard to sleep without you; but I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been married to someone for so long. I’ll be back soon, believe me.

How’s the baby doing? I’m hoping this will all be over by the time you go into labor. I try not to think about the possibility of me missing the birth of my son. And yes, it’s a boy and you can’t fight me on it, either. I can’t wait to see what he looks like. Will he have my eyes and your curly hair? Or will he surprise us both and look like a distant family member? Who knows; I’ll love him just the same.

The newbies are interesting to work with. Every time they put on their gear, they start shaking like a leaf. Their fantasies are gone and reality has sunk in. War isn’t for the weak. To be a soldier is more than saluting the flag and shooting guns. It’s a way of life. But, it gets tiresome.

I’m getting tired now and my hand is starting to cramp, but, whatever you do, keep the faith and rest easy. I’ll be home before you know it.

Sleep well tonight.

Love yours forever,

Curt

My inner freak has come out hehehehehe 😏😏

❥𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝒈𝒇 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝒘/ 𝑱𝒐𝒆 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒛 💕 thanks to this edit:

@missusnora @eleanorbaybars

❣︎𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: （𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑠）𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑡, 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔/𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝐽𝑜𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑔 𝑓𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎, 𝐽𝑜𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑎 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎, 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘, 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝐷𝑂𝑊𝑁 𝐵𝐴𝐷 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑚, ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛，𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘, 𝑚𝑎𝑛ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑢𝑛𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑠✬𝑥, 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑝✪𝑟𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑡，𝑚𝑦 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒎𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒏 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑦 𝑗𝑎𝑖𝑙, MINORS NO😡

． ．．．

“𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐮𝐳’ 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝒔𝒐, 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒅. 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆, 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞, 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒐...“

Innocently enough you were actually supposed to be doing something on campus. Yet here you are currently with your dress rucked around your waist, tongue kissing and grinding on your Blonde Babe™️ boyfriend.

Sorrows and prayers to your responsibilities.

He’s not even supposed to be in your room. Inside a strict all girl dormitory with rules against “gentleman callers” and such. Your concern for that, however, goes out the window when you feel his big rough hands feel up your body, thumbs teasing your hard nipples through your dress and trail down, squeezing your ass. He feels so good. And he’s so pretty…god you need him to ruin you.

“Mmmh- Joe-…”, you moan softly, pulling away from the kiss to look at him. Bad idea.

His half-lidded blue eyes are nearly black, lips swollen and shiny. “Wanna stop?”, he breathes out, the husk in his already deep voice adds to the heat inside of you.

“No-!”, stopping was the LAST thing you wanted, “I just wanna be on top this time”, having to choke the words out because of him suddenlu sucking wetly all over your throat. Moaning when his broad tongue licks up your jaw before slotting his plump lips over yours, kissing you deeply. Distantly aware of the fact that you’re dripping all on him as your eyes roll back into your skull. Body hot with every pulse of your cunt.

Joe isn’t opposed to you being on top but, you’re already so fucked out just from a little kissing and humping…

“Mmm okay. S’fine with me”, and that’s your green light as his voice paired with his gaze sends you into a frenzy.

Clothes can’t come off fast enough.

He’s so effortlessly hot that it’s unfair. And honestly, that’s how you two got like this. It was all his fault really. Sexy blonde hair, the constant bedroom eyes, goddamn tall, focused, and easygoing demeanor.

Naked and ready to rock his world, you give him a quick peck insisting you don’t need prep when he asks. Which is usually necessary since he’s so big all around. Broad chest and shoulders, thick muscled arms, thighs, and massive hands. Your fingers barely touch when you wrap them around him but it’s fine. You look up but he’s already looking at you.

“Y’need me to help ya put it in?“

Fuck, shit, hell, damnit, that’s the last straw and you sink down on him.

Gasping, it burns as he stretches you out, like actually hurts, but it hurts in the best way possible. Moaning in unison, Joe grabs your waist tight, suckling wet kisses all over your chest, breathing in your sweet scent.

You smell so good that he wishes he could bend you over and eat you every day.

The pleasure that rips through you has you gasping while you roll your hips and start riding him. His cock hits every spot as it fucks into your sopping cunt over and over. Your eyes water but you keep them on anything but him because the way he looks at you is too much. It’s bad enough that you’re so soaked it’s audible. Wet smacks, heavy breathing, and your near crying as Joe slams you down on his fat cock.

Sometimes he’s gentle but when you get like this he really can’t bother to be. Such a tight, soaked, little hole, with your mischievous doe eyes and sweet smiles…teasing him. Always such a cheeky little thing but it all stopped when he got you like this.

The groan that comes out of his mouth is sinful as he feels your walls pulse erratically around him. You’re close.

Grabbing your cheeks, he makes you look at him. The cockdrunk, dazed look on your face inspires something dangerous in him and he grinds his fat tip against that special spot inside you, hissing at the gush of slick that follows.

“Fuck me, that’s it. Y’gonna make a mess huh? Yeah. I know you are…cuz she’s squeezing me so tight”, he whispers hotly against your lips, taking the rough pad of his thumb to wreak havoc against your aching clit. Looking straight into your teary blown eyes as you cry for him.

“Shhh, it’s okay…thatsss it..cum for me sweetness. Let me have it baby”. Joe’s sultry low voice with the way he strums your swollen stuffed pussy makes you orgasm so hard it hurts. Whining and screaming through the almost endless waves of white hot pleasure, you don’t even notice Joe swearing, brows furrowed, biting his lip at the ring of cream around his base. There’s a possibility the whole dorm heard you and by the end of it, you’re boneless.

By the tume you come down, it takes a minute for the change of position to click until you see Joe above you. Smiling, he leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth where you had drooled when he evicted your soul from your body, licking his lips after. (Like this man is a freak and I won’t hear otherwise)

“Wait-! Did you…?”, your hoarse question doesn’t linger in the air too long but Joe’s answer has that heat stirring up again.

“No…but don’t worry. I will, n’ this time, I’ll be on top….because I wanna watch it leak out of ya when I do. S’that okay, baby?” He swears he’s never been this hard in his life as he looks down at you dreamily. Soft, warm, and sated. Fuck.

But you? Are reeling.

Where did he learn how to talk like that?

Nodding weakly, it’s “whatever you want”. Gasping when he smacks the thick head of his tip on your clit, you spread your shaky legs wider. Ready for round 2 and that’s his cue.

Getting between your legs, folding your knees to your chest….

“So don't tap out on me just yet.”

green is not your colour (1) - coriolanus snow.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader.

Warning: Implied cheating.

Summary: You've been engaged to Coriolanus Snow for a few short weeks and have been living together for even shorter but, the betrothal is put through its first test when Coriolanus's affair makes itself known. Part (1/2).

Wordcount: 1.3k.

A/N: This takes place in the 'You Keep Him There' universe. A couple of months before Christmas Kiss. Please tell me you catch the Yellowstone reference.

11 months ago.

The stone bench cuts into the skin of your exposed thigh, one leg crossed over the other as your arm rests along the back of the garden seat. Goosebumps cover the length of your body; remnants of last night’s cold snap are still evident as the icy blanket that covers the Manor’s grounds slowly melt away with the slow rising sun. 

Of course, the cold was of no concern. Not when you had your new found habit to keep you warm. 

Taking a drag from the lit cigarette between your fingers, your gaze is unwavering as you stare down the anxious chauffeur who had pulled into the driveway of your new home at the same time that you did - belonging neither to you or Coriolanus.

It had taken you all of 30 seconds to piece together what was going on and who the car belonged to - after all, you weren’t supposed to be home until the afternoon. You aren’t surprised Coriolanus would do this but, it doesn’t make it hurt any less; doesn’t temper the green eyed monster threatening to rear its ugly head.

Sure, you didn’t like him but, the two of you had known each other your entire lives; would marry in less than a year, he belonged to you- you'd hoped those things would at least mean something to him too but, it doesn’t and again, that doesn’t surprise you but, you are disappointed. Disappointed that he would bring this into your home.

The chauffeur fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeves, unsure of where to look as his gaze shifts nervously between you and the front doors until finally, they open and he relaxes slightly, eager to escape the weight of your stare as he wrenches the car door open for his passenger. 

You watch, hidden from their view as she emerges from your home, bidding farewell to your fiance. Crushing the cigarette, you wait until she’s about to enter the car to make your presence known. 

“I always suspected there may be something more between the two of you but, to become his mistress?” You stand, making your way over to her. 

Stopping a metre out, you drag your gaze lazily over her figure until you meet her own surprised one. 

“My, my, Clemensia, I never expected that from you,” you tut. “Although, I won’t lie. After your… stint in the hospital back in our academy days, I didn’t think he’d ever look at you again.” 

She flinches at your words but it doesn’t keep her down for long. The red-eyed, puffy-cheeked beauty straightening her back and puffing her chest with an air of arrogance that you did not appreciate. 

“What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” you repeat, laughing at the nerve of her. “Clemensia, this is my house. I can come and go as I please but, you? Well, we are going to have a problem if I see you around here again.”

"You can't stop me. He was mine first."

You take an intimidating step closer. 

“You want to sleep with Coriolanus? Fine. That’s your choice but, not in my house. Affairs are for hotels not homes, and if you ever step foot in mine again, I will make sure you never take another step again. Got it?”

She swallows thickly but nods her understanding. 

"Good. Now get off of my property before, I have you removed from it."

You don’t wait for her to go, sights immediately set on the fool you were to take as your husband in less than a year.

“Coriolanus,” you yell, throwing the doors open, anger finally revealing itself. “Coriolanus!”

You find him sitting at the head of the dining table, looking equally as surprised as his whore to see you. Unlike her however, he’s quick to hide it. 

“When did you-”

“You keep your whores out of my house, Coriolanus,” you warn him. “You keep your whores out of my house or I will teach you a lesson that I promise you will never forget.”

-

You spend the rest of the day sleeping, too tired from the morning's events and traveling to do anything else but rest, so it’s dark out by the time you leave your room. 

Padding down the staircase, your tummy makes its hunger known, growling out for anyone awake to hear. Sleepily, you make your way to the kitchen, not noticing the dim light emitting from the space until you're already inside with an unwanted guest. 

You look at him for a moment, thinking about whether to tuck tail and turn away or continue on your journey for food- your stomach makes your decision for you however, when it growls again. 

Coriolanus is the first to speak. “There's a plate in the fridge for you.” 

You don’t acknowledge him, opening the fridge in silence and indeed finding the plate of food inside. You pretend he’s not there as you move around the kitchen to warm your food up. When everything is ready, you take a seat at the kitchen bench- it’s then that Coriolanus decides to speak again.

“I think we should talk about this morning.”

“We have,” you answer him, tone clipped. “And I told you not to bring your whores into my house again.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

You breathe a laugh of disbelief. Was it not enough to discover what you did this morning now, he wanted to discuss it too? Picking up your plate, you make to leave- there were other rooms in this place that you could eat peacefully in. 

“It’s over-” he follows after you, blocking your path. “Me and Clemmie. I ended things with her.”

“Clemmie,” you scoff the name. “How very considerate of you. Does she know that?”

“She does and I didn’t end it because of what happened this morning- I ended things weeks ago. She’s just having a hard time letting go but, I promise it is. I’m with you.”

You pause- pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You should’ve ended it months ago, well before we even got engaged.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

You nod but don't forgive him and he uses your silence to keep talking. 

“I want to make this work, I want us to get along, I want-” he hesitates, taking your free hand. “I want you to like me.” 

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“You made it very clear in the Academy that you don’t, I doubt your opinion of me has changed much since.” 

You smile bitterly down at your joined hands. Your dislike for Coriolanus in school differed vastly from why you disliked him now.  

You wonder if it would ever be possible to like Coriolanus Snow now. 

It was hard to see the possibility when your entire being now depended on marrying him. Your grandparents had already loved him, he was Old Guard, cut from the same cloth and as he got older, they saw the future in Coriolanus Snow, future president of Panem. And that was before the proposal was even brought to them. Once it was… they would be damned if you married anyone else. When you attempted to go against it, they had made it known that they were more than willing to reduce you to nothing; taking steps to ensure you couldn’t refuse by hinging your inheritance of the Blizzard Telecommunications and Mass Media Empire and wealth on marrying him. Coriolanus Snow had snatched any freedom or hope for the future you envisioned for yourself away from you and he didn’t even know it. 

Maybe one day you’d move past it or maybe one day he'd accept that you never would but, for now you settle for “maybe you can start with buying me a new house.”

Coriolanus chuckles but you're being serious and he agrees, "soon."

“And Coriolanus?”

“Yeah?”

“I don't ever want to see you with Clemensia Dovecote again. I don’t take kindly to those who you would threaten to take what is mine. Green is not my colour and, I promise you won’t like seeing me in it either.”

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2024. All rights reserved.

This man listens to Avril Lavigne in the car btw so imagine what mix he has going on 😂

The ironing board kills me.

Can you write a fic where John and Amelia meet each other’s families?

promise of love, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x amelia mae

content: john meets amelia's parents, but one of them is reluctant to give him their blessing.

an: hope you enjoyed, anon!

“I believe any man that she is with should be bringing something to her life. If you aren’t a positive addition to her life, then what are you? What are you contributing to her life?” 

Amelia’s eyes closed at the question of her father. Her chest heaved as her heart rate increased. She prayed like a saint day and night, begging God to ensure that the meeting would be beneficial, filled with love and understanding. Yet, the tension was thicker than the snow outside. 

Thankfully, Amelia’s mother adored John; she welcomed him with a warm hug and gentle kiss. His charm swept her mother off her feet and had her just as weak in the knees as Amelia often found herself to be. Her father was the opposite. His stare was stone cold and his handshake was stiff. The one thing she wanted to avoid, failed to be avoided. 

Amelia glanced at her lover, who seemed not affected by the stoic nature of her father. John Egan was a soldier. He wasn’t easily intimidated. He was strong mentally, emotionally, and physically. He knew how to fight for what he wanted and was trained to never back down from a challenge. With a soft sigh, John leaned pressed his back against the wooden chair. 

“With all due respect, sir,” he started. Amelia inhaled sharply. “Relationships are necessary in every aspect of life. You know, you learn, grow, and experience life with another person on a deeper level. Amelia doesn’t need me at all; if anything I need her. I can’t offer her a million dollars and the newest car, but I can give her the love, honor, and respect she deserves. She’s the most important person in my life and I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. I swear by my life.” 

Amelia's father remained silent, his stern expression unchanged. He recognized where Amelia got her strong gaze from. Her father’s deep eyes bore into John's much lighter ones with an intensity that could intimidate even the bravest of souls. Yet, John held his ground, his gaze unwavering as he spoke from the depths of his heart. Amelia felt a mixture of anxiety and pride swell within her chest, grateful for John's unwavering commitment to her. Her hand dropped to his thigh, giving him a reassuring caress. 

After what felt like an eternity, her father finally spoke, his voice gruff but tinged with a hint of begrudging respect. "Words are easy, son. Actions speak louder. You say you'll honor and respect my daughter, but can you prove it?"

Without hesitation, John met her father's gaze head-on. "Sir, I understand that trust is earned, not given. I may not have all the answers now, but I promise to show you through my actions that I am worthy of your daughter's love and trust. I'll stand by her side through thick and thin, and I'll do whatever it takes to make her happy."

Amelia's heart swelled with uinsung pride. She reached out and gently squeezed his hand, silently conveying her gratitude and love. In that moment, she knew that no matter the challenges they faced, they would overcome them together.

From the corner of her eye, she saw her mother nod in approval. Slowly, his father did the same, saying lowly, “I hold you to that, son.” 

John nodded. “Yes sir, you’ve got my word.”

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Amelia said slowly with a small smile. She pointed toward the velvety dessert in the middle of the table. “Cake?”

Amelia's invitation to broke the tension in the room, providing a much-needed moment of levity. John flashed a grateful smile at her, relieved to move past the intense scrutiny of her father. With a nod, he accepted the offer, knowing that this simple gesture was a step towards building a bridge between himself and Amelia's family.

Soon, the atmosphere softened, filled with the warmth of familial love and acceptance. Amelia's mother beamed at the sight of her daughter and John, her heart filled with joy at seeing her child happy and loved.

With a sense of hope and commitment, John reached for Amelia's hand, intertwining their fingers as they shared a silent vow to face whatever challenges lay ahead together. 

With her father's reluctant approval and her mother's warm encouragement, Amelia felt a sense of peace wash over her. She knew that John was the one for her, and together, they would navigate the complexities of life no matter what.

I love his lil pout 🖤