#yes this is from my decades challenge

[alwaysborrowed]

same house, twenty year difference.

[cheriedivine]

Handcuffed couple challenge (youtuber!Ellie x reader)

♡‧₊˚₊✧ pairing: Ellie Williams x Fem reader (No use of y/n)

♡‧₊˚₊✧ summary: Filming a handcuffed couple challenge with Ellie, what could possibly go wrong?

♡‧₊˚₊✧ CW: Slightly suggestive jokes, Swearing, use of pet names (bae, babe, baby) just Ellie and reader being silly

♡‧₊˚₊✧ Tags: youtuber!Ellie, youtuber!reader, stablished relationship, oneshot, fluff

♡‧₊˚₊✧ WC: 7.4K (lol)

♡‧₊˚₊✧ Author’s note: HEYYY SO IT’S FINALLY HERE, you guys have no idea how much I enjoyed writing this, ofc it’s based on Izzy&Emma’s latest yt video where they do the 24hrs handcuffed, but i gave it my own twist hehe, I hope you guys enjoy it and lmk what you think! also i’m open to requests if y’all want anything in specific. that’s all luv u enjoy <3

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

One thing about Ellie Williams is that when something gets into that pretty little head of hers, you are doomed. Especially when it comes to recording a video for your shared youtube channel.

This time was no different.

It was 2am when Ellie, half-asleep and deep in a TikTok scroll spiral, stumbled across a video of a couple doing a ridiculous cooking challenge handcuffed together, laughing and making a complete mess of their kitchen. That was all it took.

The next morning, you woke up in an empty bed. Your girlfriend? Nowhere to be seen. Weird… You thought,

You blinked at the ceiling for a moment, brain foggy with sleep, before shrugging it off. She probably hit the gym early or something, she did that sometimes. Still half-asleep, you sank deeper into the blankets and started your usual doom scrolling, checking socials, reading comments, answering emails. The usual.

An hour passed, and your stomach started to grumble from the lack of food. You glanced at the time, then at the door. “Where the hell is she?” You debated waiting for her to eat, but curiosity won so you pulled up her contact to text her. But you can swear this girl is telepathically connected to you because as soon as you clicked on her contact, a message from her popped up like she was psychic.

“Has your majesty risen yet? I’m bringing breakfast ;)”

You rolled your eyes, already smirking.

“U are such a loser. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Miss me much?”

You didn’t even have to see her to know she was surely wearing that smug stupid little grin the one that made you want to kiss her and throw a pillow at her face at the same time.

With a dramatic sigh, you finally rolled out of bed, heading to the bathroom for your morning skincare routine. The splash of cold water brought you fully to life. You threw on one of Ellie’s hoodies — for warmth, obviously, not because it still smelled like her, and shuffled into the kitchen to feed your cat.

“Pspspsps, T-Rex. Breakfast is served,” you called, holding the food dish. The little fur ball meowed like he hadn’t eaten in a decade, purring as you scratched the back of his head.

That’s when you heard the front door unlock.

Ellie walked in, balancing a pair of grocery bags and a cardboard drink carrier with two coffee cups. Her hoodie sleeves were pushed up, her tattoo flexing on her forearm and there was a determined (and slightly unhinged) look in her eyes.

You blinked. “Ellie, what the hell? We weren’t supposed to do groceries ‘til Sunday.”

She dropped the bags on the counter and grinned. “Good morning to you too. And yes, I slept great, thanks for asking, babe.” You narrowed your eyes as she handed you a warm breakfast bagel and your favorite coffee.

“…What’s with the groceries and surprise breakfast? What did you do?”

“Can’t I just do something nice for my beautiful girlfriend that I love sooo much?” she said with that shit-eating grin that meant she was absolutely up to something.

“Spill. Now.”

She of course cracked immediately.

“So. I had an idea. Okay? A great one. Picture this: you and me. Handcuffed. In the kitchen.”

You froze. “Woah, woah hold your horses, number 1 why would i want to be handcuffed and number 2 where the fuck are we even supposed to get handcuffs?”

“Jesse” she replied casually.

“GROSS…That’s disgusting.”

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t want to be handcuffed to me?” Ellie gasped, placing both hands dramatically over her chest. “Wow. Okay. You hate me.”

“You are the most dramatic person on this entire planet I swear” you muttered, already regretting your life choices.

“You’re telling me you don’t want to see me try to knead pizza dough with one hand while handcuffed to you?”

You stared at her. She grinned wider.

“I hate you,” you said flatly, taking a long sip of your coffee.

“No, you don’t.”

And unfortunately for you — she was right.

Ellie proceeded to lay out the entire chaotic plan (which, in hindsight, explained the suspiciously full grocery bags). She showed you the TikTok video that had inspired her latest hyperfixation — some couple fumbling through a cooking challenge while handcuffed. “Look at them,” she said, scoffing. “We’d be so much better than this. They didn’t even season their sauce!”

It took a full hour of bargaining, bribery, and Ellie promising to do all the chores for the next two weeks before you finally caved. Truthfully, a small part of you was curious how badly it could go… plus, being handcuffed to Ellie wasn’t exactly the worst fate in the world.

Ellie dragged out the tripod from the closet, the one that had a chipped leg because she refused to buy another one “It works just fine” she said— and began adjusting it like she was some kind of professional cinematographer. Meanwhile, you were getting ready in your room, doing your everyday makeup, some light blush, mascara and setting powder so the light wouldn’t reflect directly on your face, your routine was simple but familiar. You changed Ellie’s hoodie into a plain black shirt that fitted you like a glove, because why not, at the end you still wanted to look good.

Ellie adjusted the tripod one last time, squinting into the tiny screen like she was defusing a bomb. “Okay… I think it’s straight?, the lighting is kinda shit tho” Ellie muttered, twisting the ring light toward your side. “There. Now let’s get this bitch started shall we?” With that Ellie hit the record button, rushed to your side with the handcuffs clinking in her grip, and threw an arm around you.

“Hey losers,” she grinned at the camera. “Welcome back to our channel.” You waved dramatically. “Today, we’re doing something incredibly stupid, which of course was... Ellie’s idea.”

Ellie held up the handcuffs like a trophy. “We’re making a pizza while being handcuffed together,” she said, eyes glinting with mischief. “And before anyone starts—no, these aren’t from last night. These are borrowed. Unfortunately.” You gave the camera a deadpan stare. “Oh my god. Literally everything could go wrong.”

“Okay so who’s gonna be on which side” Ellie raised a brow before putting the handcuffs on, “Wait… are we both right handed?” you questioned, pausing mid-thought. Ellie gave you an offended look. “You should remember if i'm right handed babe” Your girlfriend said teasingly giving you a wink.

“You are such a perv,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes. Then, turning to the camera like you were addressing a live audience: “Well, since I’m the one who actually cooks in this household, I think I deserve to have my right hand free.”

Ellie scoffed. “Um, yeah, but I’ve got more strength in my right hand, so I could knead the dough way better.” To prove her point, she flexed her arm like some kind of gym rat. You stared at her. She was ridiculous.

But you had your ways.

Leaning in close—just enough for your lips to nearly graze her cheek—you whispered, low and deliberate. “If I get to have my right hand free… I’ll let you have a little fun with these later.”

She didn’t even say anything before clasping that handcuff immediately to her right hand. Her freckled face turning fifty different shades of red.

“…Fine. You win.”

You grabbed the other side of the handcuff and clicked it around your left wrist.

“Oh my god, I already hate this,” you groaned, trying to stretch your arm while Ellie moved in the opposite direction like she had no concept of shared space.

“Too late to back out now. LET’S GET THIS SHIT STARTED, BABYYYY!” she screamed in her fake frat-boy voice, throwing both arms in the air and nearly dislocating your shoulder in the process.

You winced. “How about you try not to break my wrist before we even start.”

She grinned like a menace. “Sorry babe. Kinda forgot we were attached for a sec.”

“Did you even look up a recipe before deciding to do this?” you asked, already knowing the answer. She blinked. “Um…nope”

You sighed.

Of course not. That’s why you had been stuck scrolling through your phone for the past ten minutes, trying to find the easiest homemade pizza recipe on the internet—while your hand was getting jerked around like a ragdoll.

“Okay, genius. We need: flour, yeast, olive oil, salt, sugar, and warm water.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Bet. Let’s get this bread. Literally.”

You started pulling ingredients out of the bags while Ellie, predictably, got in the way at every turn.

“Left!”

“Your left or my left?!”

“We share a left right now!”

Ellie poured the flour onto the counter, way too enthusiastically.

“Bae… slow down, this isn’t a sandbox,” you warned, watching the powdery mountain grow taller and messier by the second.

“No no no—this is the volcano thingy! We’re doing it all fancy,” she said, using her fingers to dig a little well in the center like she'd seen on TikTok. “Now pour the warm water and yeast in here,” she added, nodding toward the crater like she was a Michelin-star chef.

You raised a brow. “You’re acting like you’ve trained in Italy. You watched a 30-second reel.”

“Don’t disrespect my culinary heritage,” she said, her hands now fully coated in flour. You leaned in, cautiously pouring the mixture into the well… but oh dear you were mistaken thinking Ellie was gonna behave. She looked directly to the camera and blinked before her flour-covered hand left the dough volcano, and smacked right onto your boob.

SMACK.

A perfect, powdery handprint appeared on your favorite shirt.

You froze. Blinked. Looked down slowly like you were in a movie about to go rogue.

“Ellie Williams…” you said, dangerously calm.

“What?” she grinned, so smug you considered throwing her into the volcano. “Just cleaning off my hand.”

“On my favorite shirt.”

“It’s a work of art, I left my mark. Like a signature. That’s love, baby.”

You gave the camera a long, deadpan stare. T-Rex meowed behind you rubbing his little head against your leg like he understood the gravity of the situation.

“You’re gonna pay for that.”

Ellie’s grin only widened. “Oh no!. Am I gonna get punished?” she asked, voice dipping into a mock pout.

You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile as you swiped some flour off the counter and flicked it right into her face.

“Oh it’s on now.”

Despite the chaos, the kitchen started filling with the warm scent of yeast and flour mixing as you combined everything, Ellie took over the kneading (with her left hand, of course), turning it into a flexing contest.

“Check this out,” she said, rolling up her sleeve and smirking at the camera. “These biceps? Built for dough.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to smile at how seriously she was taking herself. She flexed her arm, giving a playful wink before getting to work on the dough, her hand moving with surprising precision.

“Alright, go ahead and knead that dough, big shot. Show me what those ‘dough-building’ muscles can do,” you teased, arms crossed, watching her go full-on chef mode.

Ellie scoffed but didn’t hesitate, her hands sinking into the dough with exaggerated care. “This right here? The art of pizza-making. Watch and learn.”

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, eyes trailing down her flexed arm. Your gaze lingered on the tattoo on her forearm—the intricate design that you loved more than you'd ever admit.

“Damn,” you said, letting out a low whistle. “Those arms... and that tattoo? I’m gonna need a moment to compose myself.”

You stood next to her, trying to hold back your giggles, but the flour-covered chaos around you only made it harder to be serious. T-Rex jumped on the flour covered counter, sniffing the dough like he was ready to apply his biscuit kneading technique. "Hey, not you too," you said, shooing the cat away.

Ellie, of course, had no intention of letting this become a normal cooking session. She threw you a smirk. “So, you’re just gonna stand there and look cute while I do all the work?”

“Obviously," you replied, leaning back against the counter, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Somebody has to keep the camera in focus while you work."

“Right,” Ellie said, rolling her eyes as she continued kneading. “You’re just here for moral support and laugh at my flour-covered face.”

"True," you agreed, brushing the tip of her nose with your flour coated finger, you could tell that despite the playful banter, Ellie was surprisingly proud of her skills—despite the flour in her hair, and the random stray bits of dough sticking to her shirt. She paused for a moment, looking over at the camera. “You guys, this is actually kind of fun. like the adult version of slime”

“Who said adults can’t play with slime” you pouted jokingly, “Society.” you laughed out loud at the brunettes response, Ellie grinned, obviously pleased with the teamwork. “Just wait ‘til the pizza’s done. I’m gonna blow your mind, babe.”

“Ok now we need to let the dough rest for about two hours, or until it’s doubled in size—“ “WHAT? TWO FREAKING HOURS?” your girlfriend interrupted, clearly upset by the statement. “Yes Ellie…, now don't be impatient and let’s start with the marinara sauce” you tried cheering her up by occupying her mind on something else.

Ellie dragged you to where the tripod was situated, almost safely and changed it’s angle so the camera got a better view of you and the stove, “Alright all set, so what’s next babe?” she asked, looking at you with her mesmerizing green eyes. “Wait i got distracted— Ok so now we open the tomato cans and pour them into the pot with a little bit of olive oil, a garlic clove, some basil leaves and obviously salt and pepper”.

“Okayyyy chef, see guys that’s why she stays in the kitchen— wait that sounded so wrong… does that count as sexism if we’re lesbians?” Ellie said worried, but you laughed easing her nerves a bit “You are so stupid I think i'm in love with you” She blushed at your comment and proceeded to try and open the can, and try in the sense that you were holding the can while she placed the can opener on the brim of the can. “Why is this shit so hard bro”

Finally after battling with the can for a few minutes Ellie managed to get it open, triumphantly holding up the can opener with a smug grin on her face. “Hey, babe, check this out.” She held the tool in front of you like it was some sort of weapon, pointing at it dramatically. “This... is a can opener,” she said with a wink, then pointed at herself with a teasing smirk. “And this... is a leg opener.” There was a pause before you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you reached for the camera. “I swear, I’m deleting this footage later, just so you know.”

With a final defeated sigh, Ellie popped open the tomato sauce can. “See, I’m good at this.” she said as she started to pour the sauce into the pot. But just as she tilted the can, a little too much sauce splashed up and hit her favorite hoodie. Tiny bright red sauce drops splattered in the center of her chest.

You couldn't help but burst out laughing. “That is literally karma” you teased, your voice dripping with mock pity. “Looks like it’s your turn to clean up, chef.”

Ellie looked down at the red stain, then back at you, unphased. She wiped a bit of sauce off her hoodie with the back of her hand and smirked. “See, this is what happens when yall don’t appreciate my cooking skills.”

“STOP ELLIE YOU’RE MAKING IT WORSE, DON'T WIPE THE SAUCE OFF YOU'RE MAKING A MESS ” you whined at your girlfriend, the hoodie was in fact worse than before. That sauce was not going to come off anytime soon “The only mess i wanna make is the one with your—“ You smacked your free hand on her mouth before she could even finish the sentence. “One more dirty joke and I’m duct taping your mouth shut” you warned her, eyes fixed on hers.

Her eyes sparkled like she might actually enjoy that. You narrowed yours in return.

“Anyway,” you sighed dramatically, turning to face the camera again. “Back to the video. We’re gonna let the sauce simmer with some seasoning and, fingers crossed, it’ll turn out edible.”

Ellie leaned in to sniff the pot. “Smells good. Gordom Ramsey BEWARE we’re coming for you”

You laughed and grabbed your phone again. “Okay, while that simmers, we can start chopping the toppings. You’re on mushroom duty.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “You’re letting me handle the knife? While we’re handcuffed?” She said looking directly at the camera like she was some sort of reality cooking show “I trust you babe, just try not to chop your good fingers off.” you said teasingly, Ellie rolled her eyes and with a sigh she settled a few mushrooms on the cutting board and hoped for the best, “You sure you want ME doing this?…” Ellie looked at you, trying to reverse-psychology herself out of the situation, but when you saw how truly worried she was, you took the responsibility of chopping the toppings, while Ellie placed them on little bowls carefully.

“Okay you know what, maybe we should just settle for a classic pepperoni and cheese pizza…” you said glancing at the terribly chopped mushrooms in front of you, Ellie gave you a side eye that said more than words could tell, and you agreed to keep it simple and overall safe.

“Alright guys the chopping is canceled, sometimes you just gotta accept the defeat and move on, even I have to back off sometimes you know” Ellie said dramatically, like she was giving a pep talk to the camera.

“Ok, ok now what the hell are we supposed to do while we wait for the dough to rise?” you asked your girlfriend, “I know some ways we could kill time you know” She said with that stupid grin on her face.

“I would kill you right now but I’m attached to the crime scene so…” you said flatly, looking her dead in the eye, while she was trying to hold her laughter. This girl is going to be the death of you literally.

After a few minutes of thinking what you could actually do, Ellie leaned back against the counter, tapping her fingers like she was waiting for lightning to strike. You were scrolling through the recipe again, double-checking you hadn’t missed anything—until you noticed she was just staring at you.

“What?” you asked, not even looking up.

“I have an idea.”

You sighed immediately. “Of course you do.”

“Hear me out babe, blindfolded lipstick challenge while also being handcuffed… ” she said, already reaching for her phone, to look for the video that had inspired this idea. “We’ve got at least an hour before the dough’s done doing its thing, right?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Ok I’m in, but you should be the one putting the lipstick on me since you’re the one missing your dominant hand.”

Ellie lit up like a Christmas tree at the idea, pushing herself off the counter and dragging you along by the handcuffs toward the tripod. She grabbed it, still grinning, and carried it to the bathroom, where you both agreed the lighting was better (and the mirror would save your lives). You set the tripod down carefully on the sink, adjusting the camera just enough to keep both of you in the frame. Meanwhile, Ellie fumbled with a sleeping mask, pulling it over her eyes and completely blacking out her vision.

“Alright guys, while we do this, I’m gonna read some of the questions you sent to our Instagram story earlier,” you told the camera, trying not to laugh at how serious Ellie looked fumbling blindly with the lipstick in her hand.

“By the way,” Ellie interrupted, lifting the lipstick like it was a microphone, “if you don’t already follow us, it’s either because you’re a loser or you’re new here. Either way, all our socials are linked down below.”

You snickered under your breath as she tapped around your face, trying to locate your lips with the lipstick.

“Anyway, back to the questions,” you said, pulling out your phone. “First one: How did you guys meet?”

Ellie let out a dramatic sigh, like she was preparing to tell an epic love story. “Ah, finally, a normal question. Okay. So, we met in college. I was majoring in Visual Arts, because obviously, gay. And she—” she nodded blindly toward you, “—was majoring in Film. We crossed paths a few times, and I basically had a huge hallway crush on her.”

You smiled at the memory, leaning into her light touch as she awkwardly dabbed lipstick near your mouth.

“We found out we had a bunch of mutual friends, they introduced us, we started talking... and then you know, classic slow-burn, painfully homoerotic friendship that turned into this," Ellie said, waving the lipstick vaguely at the handcuffs between you. “Very on brand for us.”

You both laughed, the camera catching everything perfectly—the lipstick smudging halfway across your cheek, Ellie’s huge grin under the sleeping mask, and the pure chaos that somehow felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“Yeah at the moment I didn’t realize I was a lesbian yet, so that explains the homoerotic tension and painfully slow burn” you explained while Ellie still struggled to locate the lipstick where it needed to be.

“Dudeee stop moving, I can't do this if you keep talking—“ She said desperately “—Ok wait just let me read this question and I’ll let you do your work” you assured her.

You were mid-scroll, trying to find the next question, when you burst out laughing. “Oh my god—okay wait, this one is messed up. Who even asked this?”

Ellie paused, lipstick still in one hand, her other hand hovering awkwardly over your face. “What is it?”

You cleared your throat dramatically and read it in your best game show host voice.

“Would you rather: see your parents having sex... or have your parents see YOU having sex?”

Ellie ripped off the sleeping mask, like she couldn’t believe her eyes (or more likely her ears). “I think I spoke too fucking soon about you guys submitting normal questions.”

You were already crying, laughing, clutching the sink for balance. “I’m not answering that.”

“Oh no, you read it out loud. Now you have to.”

“I literally can’t choose, both are psychological terrorism.”

Ellie made a face like she was in physical pain. “Okay, okay, I think... I’d rather them see me. Just so I have the power. I can be like, ‘That’s what y’all get for traumatizing me first.’ Turn it into a full circle revenge arc.”

You wheezed. “Oh my god.”

“Now you have to answer,” your girlfriend insisted, like a puppy waiting for a treat. “I think I rather see them having sex, but just because I think i’d be too embarrassed and would actually die on the spot if they saw me, so yeah thats my answer, and also it couldn’t get worse you know—“

“—Ok that’s valid.” She pointed the lipstick at the camera like it was a weapon. “Whoever submitted that, you are sick, why would you even think that”. Ellie laughed, but it came out more like a smirk. She adjusted the sleeping mask back in her eyes again and continued to “apply” the lipstick on you.

“Okay I think I’m almost finished— time for the big reveal now, but close your eyes. On the count of three. One…”

“Two” you said in unison.

“Oh god im scared—“ you said already knowing your face probably looked like you made out with a crayon.

“THREE”

You looked in the mirror, bursting into laughter at the sight of the lipstick smeared well past your lips and halfway down your chin. “I look like I just made out with a clown.”

Ellie beamed. Tears in her eyes from the previous laughing fit “You’re welcome.”

“Ok now it’s my turn” you said, snatching the lipstick from her hand, Ellie was still snorting at your lipstick stained face, admiring her work of art, when you tugged the sleeping mask over your eyes. “Okay, my turn. Hand over your face.”

She scoffed, grabbing your wrist and guiding the lipstick into her face “My beautiful face is ready for the sacrifice.”

“Just stay still and don’t make any faces,” you warned, already gripping her chin with your handcuffed hand like an amateur dentist.

“No promises,” she said, settling back on the toilet lid, legs spread like she was about to do an interview with Vogue. She reached for your phone and scrolled through the next question from the Q&A sticker. “Ooooh, here’s one: ‘What’s your biggest ick about each other?’”

You and Ellie both went “oooooh” at the same time, the camera catching it perfectly.

You grinned mischievously. “I’ll go first. Ellie chews on random shit like a dog. Pens, her hoodie drawstrings, bottle caps… one time I caught her with my AirPods case in her mouth.”

Ellie gasped in mock betrayal. “IT WAS ONE TIME.”

You pointed at her. “One time too many.”

Ellie chuckled darkly. “Alright. My ick for you? You take hours to reply to texts. Like, I’ll send ‘are you alive?’ and you’ll answer six hours later with a meme.”

You shrugged, unapologetic. “I have a very active brain. I can’t be tied down.”

“This is your mouth, right?” you asked, blindly smearing the product around her lips like a toddler with a crayon.

Ellie was laughing. “I think that was my nostril, but I’ll allow it.” You giggled, blindly tapping her cheeks with your fingers.

“Okay, next question,” she said, biting back a giggle as the waxy tip grazed her nose. “Oh my god. You’re drawing on my nose, aren’t you?”

“No. I’m outlining your beautiful upper lip,” you lied blatantly, tongue poking out in focus as you smudged the lipstick across half Ellie’s cheek. “Next question, babe.”

Ellie cleared your throat dramatically. “If aliens came to Earth and offered to take one of you back to their planet forever, who would go?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Ellie. Because she’d cry less than me.”

“True, but also It would give me such good lore”

“Shhh,” you hushed her. “Stay still or I’m gonna give you a mustache.”

She burst out laughing as you smudged even more lipstick on her chin. “I swear to god, you’re using my face like a sketchpad.”

You peeked under the blindfold to see her face—her entire mouth, nose, and even her forehead now stained with lipstick from constantly touching her face mid-application.

You shrieked. “You look like the joker”

She looked at the camera with a straight face. “Guys is it giving performance art makeup yes or no”

“You’re giving a sick Victorian child ” you wheezed, “Can we do one last question please” you asked Ellie, she nodded while looking for one last question to end the little q&a.

“Who said ‘I love you’ first?”

Ellie leaned closer to the camera like she was telling a secret. “It was me. But I thought she was asleep when I said it, so technically I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

“I was literally AWAKE. I was just pretending to sleep because I was so nervous I felt like my heart was getting ripped off my chest”

“You were fake sleeping?” she gasped. “You mean I confessed my undying love to a decoy?”

“Literally yes. But I said it back the next morning, so it still counts.”

“Okay, but can we just acknowledge how poetic that moment was? Me, whispering ‘I love you’ into your unconscious body like a sad poet?”

“And me pretending to sleep like a coward,” you added.

After a few more minutes of waiting — and filming a whole artsy montage of you both modeling the masterpieces that were your lipstick-smeared faces — the dough had finally doubled in size.

Which meant: pizza assembly time.

“Can I roll the dough?” Ellie asked, already scraping the dough out of the bowl with one hand.

“Of course, babe,” you said sweetly. “Just don’t rip my wrist out of the socket while you do it.”

Ellie shot you a cocky grin, grabbed the wooden rolling pin, and planted her uncuffed hand firmly on the left side. You lined up your hand on the right, both of you teamworking the shit out of it — handcuffed, half-delirious, and still somehow making it work. Once the dough was flattened into a kinda-sorta-acceptable circle, you grabbed the pot of sauce and spread a thick layer across it, narrating every step in your best fake cooking show voice.

“And now, we generously apply our lovingly handcrafted marinara— Ellie, STOP eating the toppings!” you snapped, catching her with a full knuckle of shredded mozzarella halfway to her mouth.

She rolled her eyes and popped it in anyway. “Party pooper.”

You dramatically sighed, sprinkling the rest of the cheese over the pizza. That’s when it hit you.

“Oh, fuck, Ellie, we forgot to preheat the oven!”

Ellie froze mid-bite. “...The oven works? I thought it was like a landlord myth.”

You stared at her in disbelief. “Do you even know how to turn it on?”

She shrugged, wiping her cheese-sticky fingers on her jeans. “Not a clue.”

Still filming — the camera balanced on the counter catching every second of this— you both stared helplessly at the untouched oven. After a few seconds of aimless button pressing and frustrated groaning, Ellie threw her head back.

“That’s it. We’re bringing out the big guns.”

She fished her phone out of her pocket (with much difficulty, considering the handcuffs) and FaceTimed Joel.

You both stared at the screen, waiting.

After a few rings, Joel’s tired face popped up — and the second he saw you two, his mouth opened like he was about to say something but no words came out.

“What the hell...?” he finally managed, blinking hard at the sight of his daughter and her girlfriend covered in what looked like smeared clown makeup, chained together by a pair of suspiciously shiny handcuffs.

Ellie cracked up immediately. "Heyyy Joel. We’re filming a video. Long story. Anyway— can you PLEASE tell us how the hell to turn the oven on before we burn the house down?"

You leaned into the frame, offering Joel your sweetest sauce-smudged smile. "Hi Joel!"

He shook his head slowly. "Y’all look like you lost a fight with a three-year-old and a Crayola factory."

Ellie wiped a fake tear. "That’s the nicest thing you've ever said to me, man."

Joel groaned. "And what’s with the damn handcuffs? Jesus Christ."

You started giggling. "Content, Joel. It’s for the content."

Joel gave the camera a look so fatherly it could've been framed. "I don’t even wanna know what kinda content y’all makin'. Alright, listen up. Find the oven buttons."

Ellie spun around dramatically, dragging you along with her. "Found 'em! There's like, a hundred buttons, though!"

Joel sighed, like he already regretted answering. "It ain’t rocket science, El. Look for somethin' that says 'Bake'."

Ellie squinted. "Okay, okay, I see it—What temperature should I set it at?"

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Put it to 400."

"Yessir," Ellie saluted, poking the buttons with her free hand while you tried to steady the camera, still filming everything.

Meanwhile, Joel just kept staring at the two of you. "And you’re really just... sittin' there... wearin’ kids' makeup and chained together like morons."

Ellie grinned wide. "Yup. Living the dream, old man."

"World’s gone to hell," Joel muttered, but he was definitely smiling a little now. "Alright, once it’s preheatin’, leave it alone. No touchin' it. And for the love of god, don't try shovin’ the pizza in there without help, you'll burn the damn house down."

You gave a thumbs-up. "Thank you Joel! Love you!"

He shook his head but you swore you saw the smallest smile tug at his mouth.

"Yeah, yeah. Love you too, kiddo. Don't die."

With that, he hung up.

Ellie turned to the camera with a shit-eating grin.

"And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, was Joel Miller making his monthly YouTube appearance ."

You cackled, wiping some flour off your forehead.

"I can already smell the comments."

Ellie threw an arm (and by proxy, your handcuffed arm) around your shoulders.

"We should make him do the 'Handcuffed Baking Challenge' next time."

"Joel would rather be hit with a golf stick" you snorted.

"Facts," Ellie agreed proudly.

After hanging up with Joel, you and Ellie high-fived but it came out more like an awkward clank of your wrists, and turned back to the unfinished pizza sitting on the counter.

“Alright, final touches before this baby goes in the oven,” you announced, grabbing the bag of pepperoni.

Ellie wiggled her eyebrows. “Let’s make a pepperoni shaped figure on it.”

You snorted. "Like, a heart? A smiley face?"

Ellie grinned mischievously. "Nah. I was thinking something more mature."

You gave her a warning look. “If you suggest a dick shape, I swear to god—”

Ellie gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. "I would NEVER—okay, I was totally thinking a dick shape, but whatever, party pooper. Smiley face it is."

Handcuffed and giggling like idiots, the two of you painstakingly arranged the pepperonis into a smiley face, which turned out looking more like the default male roblox face. It took way longer than it should have — every time Ellie moved a piece, she’d yank your wrist with her, causing you to mess up your side, and vice versa.

"STOP MOVING!" you cried.

"I CAN'T, YOU'RE BREATHING TOO LOUD," Ellie shot back, sticking her tongue out in concentration.

Finally, after what felt like a solid ten minutes of struggling, the pizza was ready — just as the oven beeped, signaling it was preheated.

"Moment of truth, baby," Ellie said solemnly.

Together, you shuffled over to the oven like some three-legged race team from hell. You opened the oven door (barely), Ellie held the pizza tray with one hand, and you guided the oven rack out with your free one.

T-rex was awakened from his nap by the sound of you guys fumbling with the oven door, which caused him to meow so loud, you thought Ellie had stepped on his tail.

"Please don't drop it, please don't drop it, please don't drop it," you chanted under your breath as you both maneuvered it inside.

Somehow, miraculously, the pizza slid into the oven without major casualties.

You both whooped and fist-bumped midair.

"Alright, while that's cooking, we should probably clean up... before Joel somehow senses the chaos and drives over here," you joked, grabbing the dirty bowls and utensils.

Ellie groaned dramatically but helped you anyway, dragging you along to the sink like a reluctant kid.

The two of you struggled through washing dishes — you holding the plates, Ellie scrubbing them, occasionally splashing water all over the counter (and each other).

"This is teamwork, right?" Ellie said, throwing a sudsy sponge at your chest.

"Teamwork makes the dream work, baby," you said, wiping the water off your shirt with exaggerated dignity.

Facing the camera, Ellie leaned closer, water dripping down her sleeve.

"I just want the record to show," she said seriously, "that I do in fact help with the dishes in this house"

You bumped her hip with yours. "Barely."

Ellie laughed, then turned to the camera again, her green eyes bright.

"Alright guys, if you’re still watching this mess, comment down below who do you think is carrying this relationship: me, or her?" she pointed at you with a soapy finger.

You gasped. "First of all, it’s me, easily. Secondly, stop slandering me on MY YouTube channel."

Ellie wiggled her brows. "Our channel, babe. Equality."

“Equality would be you doing more of the dishes,” you muttered under your breath, making the camera catch it, and sending Ellie into another fit of laughter.

Just as you finished drying the last plate (and somehow still soaked the front of your shirts), Ellie sniffed dramatically.

"I'm actually so proud of us babe, even if the pizza turns out like shit (Which it wont) we did such a good job for being HANDCUFFED"

You leaned into her, grinning.

"Yes I agree, it wasn’t half as terrible as I thought"

Ellie flexed her still-cuffed arm like she was being awarded a medal.

"Told you It was a great idea"

“Yeah, yeah, now let's settle down for a bit — my legs hurt from standing up all day," you huffed dramatically, dragging Ellie along with you towards the couch.

Ellie clumsily carried the camera with her free hand and set it down on your little coffee table, adjusting it so you were both in frame. Finally, you collapsed onto the couch, feeling like you could melt into the cushions.

"I'm so hungry I could eat T-Rex," you groaned, your cat immediately hopping onto your lap and purring loudly.

"HEY. WHAT THE HELL," Ellie gasped, immediately scandalized. "Leave our baby out of this" She reached out with her free hand to pet T-Rex, who purred even louder at the attention.

"Who's a good boy? Who’s mama's good boy?" you cooed, scratching his chin just right, making his tail twitch with satisfaction.

Ellie watched the scene with a blank face before deadpanning at the camera, "I just got a girl boner from that."

You gave her a scandalized look and tugged at the front of her hoodie. "You're unbelievable."

"And yet," Ellie said smugly, ruffling your hair, "you’re still with me. Tragic."

You rolled your eyes, settling back against her shoulder. "If you could only bring one thing to a remote island, what would you bring?" Ellie asked suddenly, throwing the question toward the camera like it was a game show.

You answered without hesitation. "You. Obviously. There’s no one else I'd rather be stuck with."

“Aweee—“ Ellie's face went soft immediately, cheeks flushing pink. She leaned down and kissed the top of your head.

“—Same for me," she murmured, then smirked. "And honestly, if we were stuck on some island together, we would definitely survive. We'd never be bored."

You pulled back just enough to squint at her suspiciously. "Again with the sex jokes. I'm trying to have a moment here, Ellie."

"You love it," she teased, winking at the camera like she was hosting a late-night comedy show. "But seriously," she continued, getting a little more earnest, "I think we’d keep each other sane. Or, you know... drive each other insane. Either way, it’d be fun."

You laughed, leaning your head against her shoulder again.

"Besides," Ellie added with a shit-eating grin, flexing her arm dramatically, "you'd need my big strong arms to protect you from wild animals or whatever."

You pulled back, raising an eyebrow. "Define big."

Ellie clutched her chest like you’d just stabbed her. "You’re so mean to me on camera. They're gonna think you’re the top”

You snickered. "Oh my god."

Just as Ellie was about to ask another stupid hypothetical question, a loud beep echoed from the kitchen.

"Saved by the bell!" you gasped, practically throwing T-Rex off your lap meowing in betrayal as you and Ellie scrambled to your feet, your girlfriend rabbed the camera off the table with her free hand. "Alright guys, moment of truth. Will it be edible? Stay tuned."

You wobbled into the kitchen together like a two-headed creature from a sci-fi movie.

Somehow you managed to get the oven open without burning yourselves alive. Ellie used a kitchen towel to yank the tray out while you hovered next to her, uselessly gasping and flapping your free hand like that would help.

"Hot hot hot hot hot!" Ellie hissed as she placed the pizza down on the counter.

You both leaned over it, admiring your work.

"Honestly?" you said. "We ate this shit up."

"I wish you guys could smell it, it’s fucking heavenly." Ellie declared, giving the camera a dramatic chef's kiss.

You quickly sliced up the pizza using the pizza cutter, the two of you fighting over who was worse at it. Once you had two steaming slices on plates, you remembered the handcuffs and gave Ellie a mischievous look.

"Okay. We have to feed each other," you said, grabbing your slice with your dominant hand and holding it out toward her.

Ellie immediately cackled. "Cheers baby"

Still filming, you both counted down — "Three, two, one" — and tried to feed each other at the same time. Both of you missed by like three inches.

The pizza folded, the toppings slid around, and when you finally did get a bite into your mouth—

"AH FUCK, IT’S HOT!" you both yelled, flailing dramatically.

Ellie was fuming out of her mouth, nearly dropping her plate. "I think my taste buds just dissolved."

You fanned your mouth like that would help, eyes watering. "I can’t feel my tongue."

Eventually, once your mouths stopped being on fire, you both flopped onto the floor, handcuffed, eating pizza straight from the plate like it was a survival movie.

Ellie leaned into the camera with a dead serious face. "Let’s try again, I couldn’t taste anything other than lava"

You guys took another bite of the pizza (blowing it off a bit so it would be edible) and it was actually very tasty, the surprised look on each other’s faces said everything.

“This is so good I could orgasm right now” You said dramatically. “Just proving once again lesbians can do anything” Ellie added, proud of her work.

Between bites, Ellie looked at the camera, grease on her chin, and said, "We would could definitely make it to Masterchef"

"Absolutely" you agreed through a mouthful of cheese.

After a few minutes of shoving pizza into your faces, you both finally sat back up, looking absolutely wrecked — sauce stains, flour in your hair, and lipstick smears everywhere.

Ellie reached over and adjusted the camera a little, her fingers smudging the lens slightly. “Alright losers thanks for watching our video, it means a lot to us” You giggled, wiping your mouth on your sleeve. “But seriously, thank you for hanging out with us today, and for putting up with whatever this video was.”

“We love you guys so much, for real,” Ellie said, her voice a little softer now. She reached over and bumped your shoulder with hers. “Don’t forget to like and subscribe, you know leave a little comment and let us know if you like this type of videos or what would y’all like to see” You leaned into her, smiling. “And also thank you for sending in the craziest questions, you guys rock”

Ellie laughed under her breath and turned her head slightly, looking at you — her eyes all soft and melty despite the absolute war crime that was both your appearances.

Without thinking, you tilted your head too, closing the small gap between you.

Just as your lips brushed hers, you saw Ellie smirk against your mouth and suddenly lift her free hand to slap it over the camera lens — cutting the video feed to black mid-kiss.

The last thing the viewers heard before the screen went dark was the soft sound of you laughing against her lips and Ellie whispering, “So… about what you said earlier”

[bodybaggage]

Monthly Phantom Check Up

Frostbite, Danny’s overly enthusiastic yeti doctor, shows up at the Watchtower for a surprise check-up, and things get awkward fast.

———

The Watchtower was in chaos. It wasn’t a typical day of chaos—no alien invasions or time-traveling villains—but something far more uncomfortable. Frostbite, Danny Phantom’s towering Yeti doctor and self-proclaimed “Master of Ghost Medicine,” had arrived unannounced. His massive, fur-covered frame loomed in the main meeting room as he carefully unpacked a series of glowing, intimidating medical instruments.

Superman leaned over to Wonder Woman, voice low. “Is this... normal?”

Wonder Woman’s brow furrowed in thought. “I don’t think this falls under the usual protocol for supernatural beings.”

Across the room, Danny Phantom stood in all his half-dead glory—or rather, slouched in defeat, wearing a hoodie that seemed far too large for his ghostly frame. He was clearly trying to shrink away from the entire situation, one pale hand covering his face in mortification.

“Frostbite,” Danny hissed in a hushed whisper, “you couldn’t have waited until we got back to the Ghost Zone?”

Frostbite beamed, oblivious to Danny’s pleading. “Nonsense, Great One! Your health is of utmost importance, and I detected a slight imbalance in your ectoplasmic core. It must be addressed immediately!”

Batman stood against the wall, eyes narrowing as he watched the scene unfold. “Ectoplasmic core?”

Frostbite nodded solemnly as he began to prepare an absurdly long, glowing probe. “Indeed, Batman. The Great One is half-ghost, and thus, his core requires regular maintenance. There are many nuances to his biology that need tending to.”

Danny groaned. “Oh, Ancients, kill me now…”

The Justice League—gathered for what they thought was going to be a strategy meeting—could only look on in awkward silence. Aquaman coughed and pretended to adjust his trident. Green Lantern pulled up a holographic projection of the solar system, which he stared at intensely despite not needing to. Flash, of course, was barely containing his laughter, lips twitching every time Frostbite said something ridiculous.

“Now,” Frostbite continued, holding up a glowing vial of something green and gooey, “the first concern is the ectoplasm imbalance. Too much exposure to the Ghost Zone can cause buildup, which leads to... ah, let’s say, irregularities.”

Superman cleared his throat. “Irregularities?”

Frostbite nodded gravely. “Yes. In the human digestive system, it might be compared to... indigestion. But in ghosts, it manifests as random phasing, ectoplasmic leakage, and occasional transformation into a much more terrifying version of oneself.”

Superman blinked. “That sounds... worse than indigestion.”

“Oh, much worse!” Frostbite said brightly, not catching the sarcasm. “Especially during ghost puberty. It’s when the ghost’s core is developing at its most volatile stage.”

Danny’s entire face turned bright red. “Frostbite! Seriously?!”

“Ghost... puberty?” Batman echoed, voice laced with what could only be described as grim fascination.

“Indeed!” Frostbite said, now fully in doctor mode. “The Great One is well past that stage, but it’s important to note that ghost puberty can last several decades for some. Phantom’s transformations would have been wildly unpredictable for years, often triggered by emotional stress or large quantities of fast food.”

Flash actually lost it at that, letting out a snort and quickly covering his mouth. “Sorry, sorry! Just—did you say fast food?”

Danny rubbed his temples. “Yes. I went through my ‘ghost puberty’ eating burgers and stressing about math tests. Can we move on?”

Frostbite chuckled warmly. “Ah, yes. The human world does have its unique challenges for the Great One. Now, the next matter—”

“There’s more?” Danny wailed, half considering flying straight through the floor and never coming back.

“Oh, yes!” Frostbite said with far too much enthusiasm. He turned to the League. “His dual nature also means his ghost half sometimes conflicts with his human immune system. It’s a fascinating process! For example, Danny can phase through objects, but if he catches a human cold, it throws his phasing abilities off and he might accidentally phase into a wall and get stuck.”

The room went silent.

Batman stared at Danny. “You’ve... phased into a wall?”

Danny gritted his teeth, wishing for the sweet release of invisibility. “I was twelve, okay? And yes, I got stuck. It was fine.”

“Mostly fine,” Frostbite corrected, waving around a spectral thermometer. “There was that one time we had to extract you from a particularly thick brick wall in Amity Park. Took several hours.”

Wonder Woman, who had remained silent up until this point, exchanged a concerned glance with Superman. “Is this something we should... prepare for?”

Danny shot them both an exasperated look. “No. I’m not going to phase into the Watchtower’s walls. Probably.”

“Unless his ectoplasmic levels are low,” Frostbite added cheerfully. “Which is why this check-up is vital!”

As Frostbite pulled out what looked suspiciously like a ghost-themed blood pressure cuff, Danny gave up. “I’m going to die—again.”

Flash wiped away a tear of laughter, his shoulders still shaking. “This is the best day of my life. I didn’t know ghost puberty was a thing.”

“I’ll send you my research papers,” Frostbite said kindly. “There’s a great deal of fascinating biology involved!”

Danny, ignoring everyone, shot a glare at Batman, who was watching all this with far too much interest. “Don’t even think about adding this to my file.”

Batman didn’t respond, though his fingers twitched ever so slightly toward his utility belt.

Frostbite, oblivious to the ongoing awkwardness, finished prepping his tools. “Now, Great One, if you could just sit still. This next part involves extracting ectoplasmic residue from your pores—”

“I’m phasing through the floor,” Danny muttered, promptly sinking halfway through the Watchtower’s pristine floor, only his head remaining visible. “See you guys never.”

The Justice League stood in stunned silence as Frostbite packed away his tools with a serene smile.

“Very well,” Frostbite said. “I’ll schedule the next check-up for next month. Goodbye, Justice League!”

And with that, the massive Yeti doctor vanished through a portal, leaving the League standing there, trying to make sense of what they had just witnessed.

Superman finally turned to Danny, whose head was still poking out of the floor.

“Danny... you okay?”

Danny didn’t respond, choosing instead to fully disappear beneath the floor.

Flash wheezed. “I love that kid.”

[twstedfreak]

Not Even the Gods Can Keep Me from You

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵pairing !! : Odysseus! Gojo Satoru x Penelope! Y/n

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵Summary !! : What is perseverance, if not love? What is strength, if not the will to return? Satoru Gojo was never meant to be a man of peace. A warrior crowned in legend, a king bound by duty, a man who challenged the will of gods themselves. He had conquered battlefields, torn through myths, and stood unshaken before death. Yet, for all his victories, there was only one war that truly mattered—getting back to you. Ten years of war. Ten years of wandering. And still, his heart only knew one home. You. Always you.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵contains !! : heavily! epic the musical inspired. heavy angst with eventual comfort. yearning. war themes. divine intervention. unwavering devotion. Gojo being dramatic as always. poetic prose slow-burn but inevitable love. a decade of suffering. a reunion worth every second of it. forced separation/longing. implied captivity (calypso arc). enough pining to make even the gods weep. Greek mythology elements.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵word count !! : 2,095 words

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵playlist !! : here

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵A/N !! : no beta reading we die like men. Okay, so hear me out! this idea grabbed me by the throat and refused to let go. I was just minding my business, vibing to EPIC: The Musical, and then suddenly my brain went, “What if Gojo Satoru was Odysseus?” And now I’m here, emotionally invested in a story where my baby is out here fighting gods, monsters, and curses all because he just wants to go home to you. Like, yes, he’s the untouchable but at the end of the day? He’s just Satoru. He’s fought wars, conquered empires, and defied death itself—but nothing, nothing compares to the battle of getting back to you. If that’s not peak romance, I don’t know what is. jkjk let’s be real, Gojo is exactly the kind of person to get cursed by the gods and just laugh in their faces. Zeus could strike him down and he’d be like, "Damn, that’s all you got?" And then proceed to survive out of sheer spite. ANYWAYS. This is just the beginning because, of course, I couldn’t stop at just one headcanon. This is a whole series now. I am deep in the trenches of this story, and I plan on taking you all down with me. If you want to be tagged for future parts, drop a comment! I love you all so much—thank you for the support, the reactions, and for indulging my unhinged brain 🫶💙

Odyssey? More Like Gojo-ssey. Now, let’s watch Gojo Satoru try (and probably suffer dramatically) to get home.  😌✨

⇢ read on ao3 here !!

Odysseus! Satoru who was never meant to be a man of peace. From the moment he first gripped a sword, fate carved his path in blood and war. He was the strongest, the untouchable, the king who could not fall.

Odysseus! Satoru who was never meant to stay in one place. His soul was made of storms, his heart set to the rhythm of conquest. 

Odysseus! Satoru who was the strongest warrior, the sharpest mind, the man who could bend the world to his will. But for all his power, truly one thing he longed for. Home. However, home had never been a place. Home was you.

Odysseus! Satoru who had never feared the gods, not even when they whispered warnings of fate and ruin. He laughed in the face of destiny, dared to challenge the will of Olympus itself. He mocked them, defied them, dared them to strike him down. But the moment he met you, the moment he saw a future beyond war in your eyes, he knew he had something far more terrifying than divine wrath—something to lose. The moment he took your hand, the moment he called you his wife, he realized that strength was not in defying the gods, it was in having something worth defying them for.

Odysseus! Satoru, who was not a patient man, but love, had taught him patience. This man fell in love like a storm crashing against the shore. sudden, unstoppable, inevitable. You were not just another prize, another conquest. You were the one who saw him, saw past the whispers, saw past the power, saw past the arrogance that kept the world at a distance. As in return, he swore to be yours in a way he never truly belonged to anyone else. In this lifetime and futures to come. 

Odysseus! Satoru who would sit in the gardens with you, listening to the way you spoke, memorizing every shift in your expression, every lilt in your voice. He who had faced death countless times, but nothing unnerved him more than the way you could bring him down to his knees with a just a single look. The strongest man in the world, utterly undone by you.

Odysseus! Satoru who was a force of nature in battle, and yet, he was the softest thing when he was with you. He could split mountains with a strike, command armies with a word, yet he would abandon it all just to press a kiss to your temple in the quiet hours of the night. The world could call him untouchable, unstoppable—but you had always known the truth. He was only human in your arms.

Odysseus! Satoru who swore he would never leave you. He never wanted to leave you. But war does not care for love, and kings do not get to choose their fate. When duty called him to Troy, he kissed you one last time and vowed, “I’ll come back to you, my love.” A promise whispered against your skin, a prayer uttered to gods he never truly believed in, but for you, he prayed. But war does not wait for love, and kings do not get to choose peace. The moment he stepped onto that ship, the moment he sailed toward a war he had no choice but to fight, he made a silent promise.

Odysseus! Satoru would come back. No matter the cost.

Odysseus! Satoru who had faced monsters before, but nothing compared to the beasts that awaited him on his journey home. The sea churned with curses, the land crawled with creatures that wanted nothing more than to tear him apart. But he did not waver. He did not fear. Because what was pain, what was suffering, if it meant holding you again? And so, he fought through curses, blood, and suffering, but the only thing stronger than the wrath of the gods was his will to get back to you.

Odysseus! Satoru who had never known helplessness. He was a man who bent the world to his will, who carved his own fate with bloodied hands and an indomitable heart. He had faced gods and monsters, defied curses and storms, and laughed in the face of death itself. But for seven years, he was caged. Seven years stolen from his hands, wasted in the embrace of a goddess who was not you.

Odysseus! Satoru, who had washed up on her shores broken along with his wrecked ship, his men lost, his body battered by the sea’s wrath. She found him like that, defeated in a way he had never been before, and she took him in. Nursed his wounds. Promised him peace. Promised him eternity. However, eternity meant nothing if you were not in it.

Odysseus! Satoru who was worshipped as a god on that island. She adorned him in silk, kissed the battle scars on his skin, whispers of forever in his ear. She called him hers. She swore to love him, to keep him, to give him a kingdom untouched by war and pain.

However, Odysseus! Satoru who was already yours. No matter how soft the sheets, how gentle the hands that held him, the weight of you never left him. Your absence clawed at his chest, a dull, aching wound that never healed. He was fed the sweetest fruits, given the finest wines, and yet, everything tasted bitter.

Because you were waiting. Because he had sworn to come back. Because seven years was too long to be away from home.

Odysseus! Satoru who was given the choice to stay. to be immortal, to be unburdened, to be worshipped as he had been all his life. But gods, if there was one thing he had learned after all these years, it was that peace was nothing without you. So he demanded to leave. He raged against the walls of paradise, cursed the heavens, swore that nothing, not gods, not time, not fate itself, would keep him from you.

And in the end, the gods relented. the moment he stepped back onto the sea, the moment the wind carried his ship forward once more, he whispered a vow “I’m coming back to you, my love.”

Odysseus! Satoru who after 10 yeras of war and 10 years of isolation in a gilded cage. After all the temptation, after all the stolen time. Nothing had changed. You were still his home and he was still yours.Odysseus! Satoru had always been told that the greatest glory was in war. That men like him were meant to be remembered for their victories, for the blood they spilled, for the kingdoms they claimed. But as he carved his way through gods and monsters, as he fought tooth and nail to return to you, he realized—glory was meaningless if you were not there to share it.  He was a man who had something worth fighting for. Each island, each battle, each moment of agony was a step closer to you. 

Odysseus! Satoru who would fight for eternity if it meant getting back to you. Because the world could take his crown, his titles, his power—but they would never take his love for you. He knew that time would change things. That Ithaca would move on, that suitors would circle you like vultures, that the world might convince you to forget him. But he never doubted you. Not once. Because if there was one thing in this world stronger than him, stronger than war, stronger than the gods. it was your love.

Gojo Satoru was a man of great renown. A warrior who had never lost, a king who stood above all, a force so untouchable that even the gods whispered his name with caution. He was myth and legend, conqueror and survivor, the man who had defied death itself. And yet, in your eyes he was just Satoru. Not a king. Not a warrior. Not a name etched into history. Just a man. A man who laughed too loudly at his own jokes, a man who pressed kisses to your temple when no one was looking, a man who smirked like a child when he won an argument. A man who made himself at home beside you, tangled in linen sheets and lazy mornings, whispering secrets only meant for your ears. The world called him untouchable. You knew better. You knew the warmth of his hands, the softness of his voice when he murmured your name in the quiet of the night. You knew the weight of his heart, the way he carried the burden of war, of loss, of the endless battle between duty and desire. You knew the boy beneath the legend, the fool who fell in love like it was the only battle worth losing. And he had lost. To you. Because for all his victories, for all his power, the greatest thing he had ever done was love you. Not war, not glory, not the sea of men he had left in ruin. You. Always you. It had taken years, lifetimes, an odyssey of gods and monsters and curses. In the end, he had won the only war that ever truly mattered. Because after everything, after all the pain, after all the years stolen from him. He came home and when he looked at you, and you looked at him, he knew. You had never stopped waiting.

The moment he stepped across the threshold, the weight of a decade settled onto his shoulders. The war, the gods, the monsters—all of it had been nothing compared to the torment of being away from you. And now, as he stood before you, a man worn down by time and trials, he found himself breathless.

You stared at him, silent, unmoving. As if blinking would make him disappear. As if you had seen him in your dreams so often that you weren’t sure if this was another cruel trick.

“Satoru…” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but it shattered something inside him.

He inhaled sharply, as if he had been holding his breath for years. Maybe he had. “I’m home.”

A silence stretched between you. It wasn’t empty. it was full. Full of lost time, of unspoken words, of all the things the universe had tried to take away.

Your fingers twitched at your side, hesitant, trembling, before you reached out. The moment your hand brushed against his face, tracing the lines that time had carved into his skin, something in him broke. He leaned into your touch as if it was the first warmth he had felt in years. His hands found your waist, hesitant at first, as if he feared you would disappear. But when you didn’t, when you only gripped him tighter, his restraint crumbled. He pulled you against him, arms wrapping around you so tightly it was almost desperate.

"You took your time," you murmured against his chest, voice thick with something between relief and sorrow.

He huffed a quiet laugh, though it was weak, exhausted. “I had to make it dramatic.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers curling into his tunic. There were so many questions, so many things you wanted to say. But in the end, you only whispered, “This time… will you stay?”

His grip on you tightened. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

You let out a breathless, a broken soundhalf a laugh, half a sob. “You idiot… You think after all this time I’d want anyone else?”

Satoru gave a smirk, but his voice was quiet, almost fragile. “I don’t know… figured you might’ve realized I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

You shook your head, a real, genuine smile breaking through the tears in your eyes. “You always were.” Your hand found the back of his neck, fingers threading through his silver hair like a lifeline. “But you’re my trouble.”

Satoru swallowed hard, his thumb brushing against your cheek as if memorizing you all over again. “And you’re my home.”

A sob escaped before you could stop it, and that was all it took for him to press his forehead against yours, closing the last remaining distance.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “No more wars. No more running. No more losing time.” His voice softened, turning into a promise. “Just us.”

Your fingers curled tighter around him. “Just us.”

The words settled between you like an unshaken vow. And for the first time in forever, there were no battles left to fight.

No gods to defy.

No time to lose.

Only him. Only you.

Only home.

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[reiderwriter]

🔫 Oh, Captain, My Captain 🔫

Pairing: Unit Chief!Spencer Reid x Fem BAU!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: Unit Cheif!Spencer who uses gun training as an excuse to rub up on the new member🤭

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Gun kink, dubcon, dry humping, pictures/photos, age gap, Pervert! Spencer, unprotected sex, implied cream pie, semi-public sex, boss x employee dynamic, spanking, masturbation, slight cum play, degradation (slut, whore etc), praise kink if you squint (good girl).

A/N: This is my first entry for the CM Kink Bingo challenge 2024~! I chose a lot of the prompts based on some of the smut requests in my inbox and let my TELL you I was SO EXCITED to write Unit Chief + gun kink!!! I'm so excited for this entire challenge tbh, it reminds me of the good old days on past years' Kinktober 😂🥰

Masterlist || Bingo Board

When Spencer Reid was made the interim Unit Chief for the BAU, he agreed with the reasoning. At the time, he really couldn't argue that he was aptly experienced, responsible enough to make big decisions, and reliable. And whilst he had been through a lot in the last two decades with the FBI, he still did value his own sense of morality. 

He accepted the job and then was assigned you as an intern, and suddenly, he didn't agree with any previous assessment of him. 

Experienced, yes, but he was still stammering and rambling when discussing simple things like the weather. He certainly wasn't responsible enough to keep his eyes off you, and he probably couldn't be relied on in the field to focus instead of thinking about your pretty, plump lips and how they would feel wrapped around his cock. 

All morality had gone out of the window after a week of working with you when he closed his office blinds, popped his pants open and took his cock in hand, relieving himself while staring at your newly printed ID card. 

He had a lot of power, during the few months Emily was away, and he was trying desperately not to use it. 

Unfortunately, with great power comes a great amount of orders to give, and since you reported directly to Unit Chief Reid, you'd become his de facto shadow for the first few weeks. You bought him coffees when you got your own, asked him for quick run downs of past cases so you could take notes and remember relevant details for later, asked him for help writing reports. 

Which caused the blinds to be drawn at least once a day as he desperately tried to keep his hands off you. 

Emily had joked when leaving him behind that she'd usually give the new boss the “don't shit where you eat” speech, especially with people in your chain of command, but it really wasn't necessary with him. Of all people. 

It didn't help that you were so damn clumsy in the office. You were usually pretty calm and collected, but since starting at the BAU, the pressure was getting to you a bit. 

You made small mistakes, you double, and triple checked your work, and you were constantly in Spencer's office asking him for opinions on topics, for background information, and for, well, reassurance. 

And you dropped stuff. A lot of stuff. 

Your analytical Monday have been perfectly suited to the BAU, but somewhere between your head and your hands, all your body parts refused to function adeptly. You'd dropped things constantly, tripped on your own feet, and constantly bumped into people even while they stood still. 

Not to mention the time your dropped your (thankfully, iced) coffee all over Spencer's lap when you'd brought him his own. 

“Oh my- Oh my god, Doctor Reid, I am so so sorry,” you scrambled, immediately grabbing tissues as he jumped up from the desk. 

“Please let me help you, god, I'm so stupid, I'm so sorry-” you said, patting away as his lap as he stood frozen in front of you. You dropped to your knees to mop up the traces of coffee still running down his thighs, as he stammered. 

“Y/N, please, you don't need to, I have a spare pair I can-” 

“I'll have them dry cleaned, I promise,” you begged, just as a knock sounded and the door to his office swung back open for JJ to enter through. 

“Spencer, the files for the- woah! Okay, I'm not jumping to conclusions, but I'm still backing out of this room right now.” 

She laughed her way out of the room, which was when your brain finally caught up to your hands and realized the stupid position you'd put yourself in. 

You'd practically pushed your boss up against the wall, kneeled before him, and begged to touch him. 

You'd squeaked out an apology and quickly left the office, much to Spencer's relief, because even after an ice bath and semi-public humiliation, he was hard and horny and his IQ had been knocked to roughly 7. 

How he'd wanted to keep you pinned in place, to stroke your cheek as he made sure you took each inch of him down your throat slowly, filling you up so you couldn't escape. 

How he'd wanted to keep his job as well, something he'd probably not get to do if JJ had decided to walk back in, or - god forbid - bring other witnesses to his debauchery. 

You were clumsy, and he was desperately horny, and you were both complete and total messes.

“I don't see how I can help you, Y/N,” Tara held up her hands in defeat as you begged for her help. 

“I'm competent with a gun, but it's not something I can teach you. I wouldn't know where to start.” 

“I just need someone to show me how to hold it properly. There's a trick to it, right? There has to be a trick to it?” 

“Ah yes, the old aim and shoot trick, I forgot about that one,” Rossi laughed, shaking his head at your office antics. 

You'd been interning for a few weeks, and the latest in a line of ability tests was shooting. You'd pretty much aced the physical fitness test, but you'd never even held a gun before joining the FBI, and you were struggling. 

“I've put in 10 hours at the shooting range in the last week, and the closest I've got to an accurate shot was hitting the next lane's paper. Don't ask.”

Your coworkers shared a sympathetic look as you sat down at the round table, ready to hear the next case details. 

“I'm relegated to office work until I pass this certificate, and I was not made for sitting at a desk for 7 hours.” 

“Well, why don't you ask Reid for help?” JJ said helpfully, bringing her coffee to her lips to hide the meddling smile plastered there. 

“Reid?” 

“He had some issues shooting when he was a rookie as well, but he put in some hours at the range, and now he's the best shot on the team.” 

“Easy there, blondie, I'm nothing to sniff at with a gun myself,” Rossi smiled, patting himself on the back. 

“I'm sure he'd enjoy helping you,” JJ continued. 

“Who would enjoy what?” Spencer said, finally joining the team in the meeting room and pulling out the case files as everyone opened up their tablets. 

“Y/N was just saying she's having some trouble shooting, and I suggested she ask for your help?” 

He froze momentarily and stared down at you as you looked up at him, hopefully, a shy smile on your face. 

He tried to keep his eyes on yours, but from this height, he had the perfect view down your shirt, your perfect-sized breasts pressing together as you leaned towards him, giving him a generous eyeful. 

He looked away quickly and nodded his agreement, sitting himself down and attaching his eyes to the files instead so he could get his mind off of  your body, and your lips, and the begging that surely would've come out of your mouth had he not accepted earlier. His brain was tormenting him with images of you underneath him, under his desk even, his cock in your mouth as you paid for his precious time training you. He blinked away the thoughts and, for once in his life, actually had to put effort into reading and understanding each word on a page as he ignored the raging fire of his lust. 

A few hours later, the two of you were at the shooting range. 

“My main problem is shooting. The instructors said my form isn't great either and that I looked like a child playing with toys whenever I hold a gun, so if you could help with that…?” You said, putting on the goggles and turning back to look at your boss. 

“Doctor Reid?” You asked. 

“Oh, yeah. Yes, they said something similar when I was training. First, let's see what you can do.” 

You smiled at him as he watched you bounce up to the lane and pick up the gun. You calmed your breathing and got ready to take the safety off when you felt a hard hand clamp over your own and pull the gun from your hand. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, staring down at you with wide eyes. 

“You said to show you-”

“You're not wearing a vest.” 

You cursed quickly as he pulled you back over to the side of the room. The place was practically deserted, as it was past the official closing hours of the range, but Spencer had been forced to pull some strings with his new title and had managed to keep it open (and somehow unmanned) until now. 

He quickly grabbed the first vest he saw and pulled it over your head, taking the side straps and tightening them until the vest was comfortably protecting all your major organs. His hands lingered for a second, and you stared shocked up at him, somehow enjoying the way he pushed you around. 

You were a grown woman, and you could do this all by yourself, but there was something about a man roughly a decade and a half older than you controlling your movements that were entirely too dangerous. You quickly stepped away and back to the podium, whispering a quick thanks under your breath as you tried to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. 

You stretched out your neck a little as you felt him walk back behind you again, keeping his distance as he watched you shoot your first clip at the targets. 

Out of six bullets, you'd missed the target five times and had grazed just below the targets arm once, a brilliant display of your natural lack of talent. 

“Your form is wrong. You're holding yourself too rigid, which means the recoil has a higher chance to hurt you. Loosen your arms slightly.”

His advice was actually good  and you followed his instructions closely, listening clearly as he walked you through each tip. 

“Like this?” 

“A little more… here, let me.” 

You had no chance to react before his body was pressed behind yours and his hands were wrapped around your own, moving g each finger by a fraction to improve your grip, trailing up your arms slowly, leaving a field of goosebumps wherever his fingers grazed. He repositioned your elbows before moving forward his hands down to your hips, turning them slightly as he widened your stance. 

“Try now.” 

Breathless, you could only nod as he stepped back, unaware if he'd even said anything since his hands had landed on you. 

You forced yourself to breathe again and took one shot.

"Oh my god, it hit. Spencer, it hit!” 

“Do it again and we can celebrate.” 

Another five shots later, and you'd managed a small cluster of hits around the arms and one shot. 

“You're definitely veering left, so let's try and over correct by aiming to the right.”

He pushed up against you again and held the gun, moving it to the right a fraction, taking complete control of your body. 

If your breath was scarce before, it was totally gone now as you felt his crotch press up against your ass. Considering the bulletproof vests put an extra inch around your chests, he was absolutely doing it on purpose, and you were shocked to realize you were too. 

You'd pushed your ass back into him, grinding slowly on his hardening cock as he hooked his head over your shoulder, looked down the sight with you, and fired the gun. 

Straight into the center of the target. 

“Good girl,” he whispered before pulling away.  

He moved two meters away from you, and maintained the distance for the rest of the night, and even though you were both aware of his hard cock tightening his pants, neither of you said a word. 

“Same time tomorrow,” he said and grabbed his jacket to leave. It was the first thing he'd said as your Unit Chief that even vaguely sounded like a command and not an enthusiastic suggestion, and you were suddenly very excited for the rest of the week. 

“Before we start,” he said the next day, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows neatly. “Show me your posture again.” 

He gestured towards one of the dummy guns at the side of the range, the style you recognised from mission training that held small layers instead of bullets - same weight, same mechanism, no lethality. 

You'd spent the day and night worked up from the last time you'd been here with him, and a small part of you felt disappointed you were starting with the kiddy gun. Not one to miss an opportunity, though. You bent over to pick it up, making sure to bend at the waist right in front of him to show off your ass. 

Maybe you'd gone crazy, but the memory of his touch was burning you from the inside out and you needed to feel it again to make sure you weren't crazy. 

He maintained his distance, though. It was hard for him to keep his hands off you in all honesty, arms crossed to keep himself from crossing any more lines. That and he was sure that you'd be able to tell he'd spurted cum all over them in his office the night before despite him scrubbing them thoroughly multiple times, the weight of his guilt eating into him like a parasite.

“Arms up, point straight. Good.” You tried to keep still as he assessed your form, but his eyes prowled over you thoroughly, and you had to suppress a shudder. 

“You need to control your breathing, Y/N, you can't be afraid of pulling the trigger if you need to.” 

“I'm not-” 

“Shoulders back,” he said, moving to your side as he again began slightly correcting your form. 

Unlike the day before, though, this time, there were no bullets. And no bullets meant no bulletproof vest. 

That's why when his exploring hands came to your chest, he could feel your hardening nipples through the flimsy material of your dress. He could feel you pressing forward into his touch as his hands cupped your breast.

“Calm your heartbeat, Y/N. You need to stay calm so you can shoot straight, right?” 

The words sounded alien, even to him. His gaze was locked on the top of your shirt, looking down it to the slope of your chest, disappearing into your dress. He so wanted to let his hands disappear right along with them, to pull you back into his aching cock and play with your nipples until you cried out for mercy. 

He let his touch fall and played off his molestation as correction, even as your underwear grew slick with desire. 

“Grab your vest. Let's try again.” 

A week of late night training later, and you weren't sure if you were improving at all. The guns were the last thing on your mind when Spencer's hands were on you, his voice in your ear telling you how good you were for him, such a good subordinate. 

Both of you had yet to acknowledge that you were spending the majority of the session just rubbing up on each other, like teens at prom, desperate for whatever friction you could get without having to name the game you were playing. 

“Doctor Reid, if I hit the target this time, can you do something for me?” You chanced on the Friday, needing something else to tide you over for the weekend. 

“What do you need?” 

“No, no, nothing specific, just like a…a reward?"

He'd done his best to keep his hands off of you, which meant that he'd failed miserably, and he knew exactly what he'd like to treat you to as a reward. Keeping his hands of you in daytime hours had become harder and harder as the week flew by, and he felt like a randy school boy the amount of times he'd needed to excuse himself to either kill his bones or abuse his cock with his hand.

“Oh,” he said, growing quiet. You took his hesitation for rejection, and immediately began to back pedal. 

“Y-You don't have to, sir. It was really quite conceited on my part to demand a reward from y-” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“If you shoot six bullets that hit either the chest or the head, you'll get a reward.”

You smiled brightly at him, suddenly feeling very hopeful. 

“But if you miss, you'll get the opposite.” 

The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about what they meant. Just hearing the words made him want to visibly cringe and write himself up for office misconduct. But your smile didn't fade one bit. 

“Yes, sir. I won't let you down.” 

Turning away from him, you loaded your weapon again, and he watched you put yourself into the correct position. Despite his middling efforts to actually teach you, you had seemed to have improved over the last few days. 

He wasn't sure if he wanted that outcome. 

Just as you stepped up to take your first shot, he stepped closer to you, wrapped his hands around your waist, and pushed up against you. 

Your first shot veered left, completely missing the target as you gasped. Spencer had popped open the front button of your pants and was unzipping them, letting his hand wonder down to your panties. 

“Look straight. There will be distractions out in the field, you can do this, right?” 

“Y-Yes, sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

You tried to steady your breathing g and your hands again as he began rubbing slow circles into your underwear, your body alight with lust as you let him. 

Your second shot hit the paper. Your third didn't. 

“You can do better than that, Y/N.” 

You took another deep breath and picked up your gun again, shooting just as he shoved your underwear to one side and dipped his fingers into you. 

Your mouth opened in a silent moan as you quickly shot your last three bullets, not caring where they went so much as where his fingers went. 

“Y/N, I expected better,” you could hear the smile in his voice as he took the gun from your hands with his spare. “You can't even handle a weapon like this.” 

He kept his fingers pumping shallowly inside you, as he inspected the gun again. 

“Maybe you'd learn better under duress. I did, too. It's easy to learn when there's a gun pointed yo your head, right?” 

He quickly turned the gun on you  pushing it to your temple as his other hand shoved your pants down. He angled you forward with a press of his hips as his fingers returned to your cunt and slipped deeper inside. 

“S-Spencer, fuck-” 

“You missed all six bullets, so punishment it is.” His fingers gained speed as you stood, flushed and spreading your legs for him. You wanted to bury your head in your arms and scream out your moans, but the gun to your head kept you quiet and in place. 

“You may not be able to shoot a gun, Y/N, but that doesn't mean you're not enjoying them. You're so wet for me.” 

Tears sprung to your eyes as you felt your climax build and build, chasing the high you'd been searching for with every unprotected touch. 

You were letting your boss touch you, letting a man almost old enough to be your father hold a gun to your head, and you were going to squirt all over his fingers very soon. 

“Spencer, Spencer, please- please….”

“Shhh, it’s okay. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You just needed some more help learning. You can cum now, princess. It's okay, let go.” 

You tried your best to hold back, but your body had a mind of its own as your orgasm hit you, the cold metal of the gun finally moving away from your head. 

With one hand around your waist, pinning you to the side so you stayed upright, Spencer carefully placed the gun back down before dragging your pants back up your legs. 

Taking your elbow in his hand, he walked you to the door as you blinked out the daze in your eyes. 

“We're going to my office now. To talk about your recent performance.” 

You couldn't have cared less what he'd said as long as his hands were on you, stretching your head back so it rested on his chest and pushing up until your lips could connect with the bare skin at his neck. 

“Hands off. We're going to walk all the way back to my office, and you're not going to let anyone know what just happened, okay? Not with your words, or your expressions or body language, okay?” 

You nodded, but he kept a hand on your elbow, gesturing yourself forward. 

You weren't sure how you were even able to walk after what had to have been the most intense orgasm of your life, but the promise of more likely carried you all the way up the stairs until you were comfortably enclosed in Spencer's  office. 

Like he'd found himself doing multiple times a day this month, Spencer closed the blinds, pulling you down to the sofa with him as he sat. 

“When I was your age,” he started, making sure your ass was facing up as he pushed your head into the cushions gently. 

“When I was your age, I couldn't shoot well. My Unit Chief had to kick some sense into me. I think you need that as well, right, Y/N? You need someone to beat some sense into you?” 

You nodded as he stroked your hair, and he thanked you for being so open to him. 

He made quick work of your pants and underwear, and in a quick hot burst, his hand came down on your ass. 

“Fuck, more. Please more!” 

He did it again and again as you squirmed in his lap and moaned, begging him to keep brutalizing you. 

“That's it, show me how pathetic you are, show me how much you're craving my attention.” 

He pushed your legs off of his lap until you were kneeling on the floor underneath him. He pulled up your arms and pulled your shirt over your head, similarly discarding your tank top and bra until you were totally bare on the floor in front of him. 

Instead of stripping himself yet, he pulled out his phone, palming himself through his pants. 

“Show yourself off,” he said, pointing the camera at you. 

You followed his directions quickly, hands flying to your tits to fondle them while he took pictures of your fucked our face. 

With his foot he gently nudged you down onto all yours, letting you know to turn around so he could flash a picture or two of your sloppy cunt as well. 

Your hips rocked back and forth in the air, unconsciously searching for something to rub against, some relief from your frustrations. 

He kept snapping pictures. 

Deciding that you needed his attention and stat, you let your chest fall to the floor, face flat too as your hips lifted higher in the air. Your hands found your ass cheeks, and you spread them slightly, giving Spencer an even better view of how much you needed him. 

He took one last photo, and then he knelt behind you faster than you could expect. 

In a heartbeat, his pants were down, in two his cock was buried deep inside of you. 

“So…tight, shit. You're such a precious little slut, you kept this little pussy nice and fresh just for me, right?” 

It was all you could do not to cum right there, and when he started moving you were a goner. It had always been easier for you to cum a second time than it was for you to cum a first time, and considering how quick he'd made it happen earlier, you really should've been expecting it. 

Your body convulsed around his cock as you screamed into the floor, hands still spreading yourself wide for him as he rutted into you. 

“That's it, milk my cock, Y/N. Milk your bosses cock, let me blow my load inside you.” 

Your nipples rubbed painfully against the carpet, only adding to the storm of stimulation you were experiencing. 

His hips faltered as he collapsed over your body, holding tight as his muscles locked him into place with his orgasm. He came inside you with a grunt, and he felt your cunt still clenching around him, making sure to take every last drop. 

“That- was much - preferable,” you said, gasping for breath. “To shooting - any gun.” 

He rolled off of you as you laughed, body satiated now for the first time in what felt like forever. 

“You still need to work on your gun skills,” he said after you'd detangled yourself, but before either if you had worked up the courage to leave the floor and get dressed. 

“Why?” You said, turning your head to look at him  lying on the floor next to you. 

“It seems I can fire pretty accurately already,” you said, as your hand snaked down to his cock one more time. 

[barleyo]

Mama-in-Training.

Enji Todoroki X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: life has been whooping my ass, sorry for my inactivity!! i'm trying to post more often, so i might start queuing up some fics to keep posts kinda consistent :3 anyways, for today, i offer you a humble enji fic

Tags: age gap (early 20s — 50s), breeding, creampie, unprotected sex, use of "mommy" and "daddy", size kink/difference

Wordcount: 2.4k

After his divorce, it took Enji a few years to get back into dating. By the time he found you, all of his kids were well into adulthood and moved out. That was fine with you, it would have probably been awkward to play step-mom to his kids who were the same age as you. 

However, that didn't mean that you didn't want children of your own. You never really brought it up with your now husband, seeing as he already had a bunch of them. You assumed he didn't want any more, that he was tired. That's the thing about age gaps— you're always in a different stage in life from your partner. It's hard to keep up. 

You sat with him in the dining room, quietly eating breakfast together. He was shuffling through a newspaper, his stoic face in tact. 

Well, no time like the present. You decided to bring it up.

You took a sip from your tea cup before placing it down gently on the table. You folded your hands on your lap and leaned forward a bit, trying to get his attention. 

"Enji."

"Hm?" Enji hummed absentmindedly in response, not taking his eyes off the newspaper for a few more seconds. He reached over and grabbed his own cup to take a sip, his eyes skimming across something in the paper before finally putting it down and looking at you. 

"What is it?" he asked, voice gruff and tired. 

"I want a child." You kept your eyes trained on his face, watching as his expression changed. 

His face slowly shifted from confusion to slight distaste. He wasn't expecting that, not exactly. 

He sat up a little straighter and looked at you intently. He wanted to make sure he heard you correctly. "A child? Really?"

"Yes, and I want one soon," you said, picking your teacup up again. You pressed it to your lips, speaking quickly again before drinking. "I'd like more than one, you know."

That last part was news to him. He was already surprised to hear that you wanted one, but two? More? 

He let out a deep sigh and leaned back in his chair, crossing one of his legs over the other. 

"Why?" He asked bluntly. 

Enji didn't want to say no right away, but his children were already adults. He didn't realize you wanted kids of your own. He always assumed you wanted a simple, quiet life with no little brats to deal with.

"You're getting older, you know," you said, voice teetering on teasing. "Don't you think we should strike while the iron is hot? Before you're too old?"

"Who are you calling old, woman?" He rolled his paper and shook it at you, pointing it at you with a small scowl. "I'm in better shape than most men decades younger than me, don't act like I'm on the verge of death."

"I don't know," you said with a shrug, leaning back in your chair with a smug, little grin.

You were trying to rile him up, and it was working. Enji was not a man who held up well to your incessant teasing. It was rather easy to get a rise out of him— a fact that you often exploited. 

"You aren't exactly in your prime anymore, are you?"

Damn you, he thought. He stood up, hands splayed on the table, eyes narrowed. 

"Who's not in their prime? I'm doing just fine. I'm not even that old, you know that," Enji said in an overly defensive way. It was adorable, watching him get so worked up over a little prodding. 

"Then chasing around some kids should be a breeze for you," you retorted sharply, raising an eyebrow in a challenging way. "C'mon, don't you miss having kids in the house? It'll be fun!"

He let out another, more exasperated sigh. Your persistence was a trait he had become accustomed to. Whenever you wanted something from him, you didn't stop until you got it. It was cute, but god, he hated how weak he was for you.

Enji was quiet for a few moments, staring at you as he considered it. He knew that if he kept arguing, this conversation would go on forever. "Fine," he finally relented. "We can start trying."

You clapped a few times in celebration, childishly whooping and cheering over your little victory. 

"I knew you'd agree!" You paused and looked over him, a mischievous smile forming. "So, theoretically, we could start right now?"

Enji raised an eyebrow at you as that little grin appeared. He knew that look. "Now?" he repeated, an almost imperceptible smirk of his own began to form. "Right this second?"

You nodded and he scoffed, patting his thigh, thick with muscle and strength. 

"Come here, you eager thing."

You did so gleefully, footsteps speedy as you went to sit on his lap, legs hanging over his thighs as you face him head on. You wrapped your arms around his neck. 

He watched as you practically rushed over to him, settling comfortably in his lap. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close to him. He leaned forward, lips ghosting against yours before he spoke.

"You really do want a kid, huh?" he asked, smirk fading ever so slightly as reality sunk in.

Enji was battling with himself mentally. He wanted to make you happy. His personal motto had become "anything for you, dear," but did he really want to start over with another plight of snot-nosed kids? He hated to face his own age, but he was getting up there. Could he—?

He thoughts were interrupted by you answering his question, a soft, needy look on your face. 

"I do. I really do, Enji. Don't you think I'll make a good mommy?" You braced your hands against his chest, eyes wide with excitement. "I think I'd look good pregnant too, with a cute lil' bump, eh?"

Fuck. Fuck, he really liked that image. Any doubt that was lingering was replaced with you. Full and pregnant. Tits swollen and heavy, face glowing. 

A shudder rolled down his body and a low rumble escaped his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he was this turned on. He wrapped his arms tighter around you, nearly pulling you against him completely. He began placing slow, purposeful kisses all over your neck and jawline.

"Yeah?"

He couldn't form any words outside of that, his head foggy with only his desire to fill you up present. The grip he had on you was a little harsher than usual, fingers digging into the fat of your ass through your pants. 

You pressed your lips against his roughly, hands carding through his hair. 

"I want you to fuck..."

You spoke only when you pulled away for gasps of air, sentences coming out breathless and choppy. 

"...all of your cum into me. Want it all, gotta make sure it takes."

He shivered again, your dirty talk getting to him more than he'd like to admit. He let out a low growl as your hands moved through his hair, his grip on you only getting tighter. 

He bit down on your lip, pulling you back into another rough kiss. His hands continued to move over your thighs, slowly going further and further up until he was palming your cunt through the layers of fabric covering you. 

"Such a dirty mouth," he muttered against your lips. "You really want it, huh? I'll give it to you. I'll fill you up, baby. Whatever you want."

His hands began to slide over your body, caressing your skin gently. His touch continued to linger over you, slowly making its way down lower to where you wanted it most. His fingers began to rub and tease at your core through your underwear, his hand messily shoved down your pants. His tongue licked roughly at the sensitive flesh of your neck. He made a point to leave marks, wanting others to be able to see that you belonged to him. 

Soon enough, your full belly would be a mark of his upon you. Hickies would suffice for now, though.

"You're all mine," he said gruffly, his tone possessive as ever. "I'm gonna give you everything you want, baby. Give you everything you need."

Normally, you enjoyed the chase, the teasing. Making out and heavy petting was all a part of the fun, on most days. But not now. Not when you knew exactly what you wanted— and what did you want now? 

Non-stop loads. 

You shimmied on his lap, kicking your pants off impatiently and staring up at him. 

"I want you, and I want you now," you said, trying to sound authoritative only to come off as needy and whiny. "Stop playing around, Enji

He chuckled at your attempt to sound like you were in charge, his lips curling up into that smug, confident smirk. 

"Bossy today, aren't we?" His other hand coming up to rest on your waist. His grip was still as harsh as before. "So eager to be knocked up, you've forgotten how to ask nicely."

You groan exasperatedly, resting your head against his chest. "Daddy, please. Don't tease."

"Oh, fuck." He inhaled sharply, fingers rubbing small circles on your hipbones. "You know I love when you talk like that."

That one word was all it took. 

You were always able to push the right buttons, to get him to do what you wanted. He pushed your head back, hand cupping your cheek, wanting to see your face.

"That's better," he said, his voice low and rough, almost a whisper. "Begging like that, baby." 

Before you could respond, Enji had slung you over his shoulder, dragging you off to the bedroom. 

He slowly repositioned himself until he was settled between your legs, his broad chest pressed to yours. He looked down at you, taking in just how needy you were. He knew you wanted this just as much as he did, if not more, and he was going to make sure he gave you what you needed. 

His mouth was back on your neck, more marks being left on your skin. He spoke between sucks and bites, the words muffled.  "You're still so eager, baby. All for me."

What round was it now? Three? Four? You couldn't tell. Your legs were cramping from being pushed to your chest for so long. Your greedy little hole was full of cum, dripping onto the silky sheets beneath you. Your mind— a mushy mess. 

You felt Enji push his cock back into you, rubbing the head over the leaking mixture of slick and seed that was drooling out of your slit. 

You winced a bit at the stretch. No amount of prep could ease the burning stretch of his girth. Your walls were snuggly closed around him. 

It was always like this, he was huge, after all. A brief look at his sturdily built, tall figure would give anyone ideas. Obviously, a giant man like him had the cock to match. Every time felt like the first time with him, with the sharp pinch of him sliding in, but God, it was worth it. 

He always felt a sense of pride when he took you like this. He was the only one who could make you feel like this, and he knew it. The only one who was allowed to satisfy the need inside you. His ego only grew the further he sunk in, watching your body swallow all of him yet again. 

"Jus' one more, baby. Okay? Think you can take one more?"

His large body caged you under him, trapping you completely, strong hands keeping your legs firmly folded. 

When you didn't answer, he huffed and brought his calloused thumb over your clit. He rubbed rough circles over the nub. 

"You're such a sensitive thing," he mumbled, collecting some of the slick that dripped down the seam of your thighs, right next to your cunt. He smeared the wetness over your clit, smoothing his movements. "So little, too."

"S—shut up," you managed to spit, mouth hanging open as you felt him ram sharply against your cervix, kissing the tip of it with his cock head. 

"But it's true."

Meaner than a snake, Enji was. The way he pushed one of his hands down on your lower stomach made you see stars. Every stroke felt deeper than the last— harder. More targeted. He was focused on hitting your deep, spongy weak spot with each of his thrusts. 

"How are you going to handle carrying my child, huh? Tiny thing like you. My cock already spilts you in half, the hell are you gonna do with a child of mine?" He was looking down at you, stoic expression tinged with a hint of amusement. "You'll break right in half, baby. Y'aren't strong enough for it."

You huffed, a soft moan slipping through your mouth as he continued to fuck into your tight chasm like a crazed man, little regard for how rough he was being with you.

"I dunno," you mumbled, bottom lip bit tight enough to almost draw blood, "but I know I can handle it. Was made to be yours, daddy. I can take it. I gotta."

His grip on your thighs grew more intense, his hands digging into the soft, pillowy skin. He liked when you said that. He liked that you needed him, that you needed to mother his children.

Enji's teeth tugged at your neck rougher than before, his tongue licking the assaulted skin soothingly. It was a dance of sorts— sharp teeth marking you, marking you bruise and bleed, with a gentle tongue to clean you up right after. 

"You really do want it, huh? You need it so bad," he said between rough kisses. "Well then, let's hope it takes."

With that, he braced one hand beside your head, tightly gripping a pillow, and the other leaving bruises on your thigh. He came for the final time, adding to the sopping, sloppy mess that previous rounds left in your hole. 

"Ah, fuck. There you go, mama," he groaned, voice tight with satisfaction as he spoke the nickname. "Now, all there is to do is wait."

He kept his cock sheathed inside of you, plugging his cum up in your walls.

"...Unless you think another turn is needed. Fifth time's a charm, isn't it?"

[quickestgold]

For angsty requests: marriage on the rocks with jack abbot, contemplating divorce?

Say Something: Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Synopsis: A decade of falling in and out of love has turned you and Jack from lovers to strangers. But when a difficult case hits too close to home, you might finally be calling time of death on your marriage.

Warnings: Reader and Jack are both vets/doctors; Canon-typical graphic depictions of trauma/injuries; mentions of missing limbs, blood, war, ptsd, GSWs, patient death, divorce, rooftops;

Word count: 4k+

A/n: Slowly working through my requests, sorry for the long wait! But thanks so much for sending this in! Can't wait to hear your thoughts! Ngl kind of broke my heart with this one ♡

I will hold your hand. I will grow with you. I will change with you. Every day, in love and in life.

Ten years.

In and out of love. Always by each other's side. Two sides of the same coin. Combat medics. Doctors. Lovers. Friends. In that order.

But lately, a new reality has settled between you.

Strangers.

You share a bed and a space. A home. You've grown through laughter and pain. Know the other's darkness and heartache intrinsically.

Jack is the person you would survive any war with. He's your person. And you're his. Your passion runs deep, intellectually and emotionally.

You've been through hell together, but you always made it back. You used to laugh a lot, coping through humor. Most alive in high-stakes, emotionally demanding work.

You spent most of your careers overseas. Never shying away from the hard places. Always trying to help.

You can be unpredictable, the ends forever justifying the means. Walking the thin line between control and recklessness. Even for Jack's standards and he isn't exactly a man of protocol.

But sometimes you scare him. Your complete disregard for your own safety, always putting him first. The irony of course being, that he does the same for you. But before you, he never experienced a partnership like it. No one ever made him feel that whole. Completed him in a way, he can't ever find the words for.

So he made you a promise. To hold you. To grow with you. And to change with you.

Every day.

And you said yes...

But over the years, the line between your personal and your professional life has almost completely blurred.

You barely see each other outside of work. Everything feels mechanical. There's only faint traces of intimacy. Of tenderness. Just two people who've known each other for a long time. Who are slowly growing apart. Changing without the other. Not realizing they're going in separate directions.

In your heart you know it's no ones fault. No infidelity. No drama.

Just... silence.

Your shift wasn't exactly quiet before this case. But this injury, this patient, throws you off your game.

You never crack. The new interns thought Dr. Abbot was the stoic, quietly observant, fuck-standard-of-care, ED-cowboy.

Before they met you.

Unafraid to contest decisions from the higher-ups, demonstrating fearlessness in times of crisis, fudging paperwork for the sake of the patient. Always treating the person, not the protocol.

Dr. Walsh, Emery, your best friend and twisted sister in arms, always challenges you.

Your "other" person. The Cristina to your Meredith.

On occasion, she kicks Jack out of his own bed, when you need to reflect on a particularly bad case, or sometimes just to wind down with shitty reality TV. Jack would curse under his breath, but ultimately make room for the two of you. Always respecting your strong bond.

You went through residency together. Watched others drop out under the pressure. But you were never in competition, except maybe the odd healthy one.

Where she practices medicine by the book, you often improvise. But your dynamic works.

She knows you. Truly.

So when she steps into the trauma room, her words slice through the air like a sharp scalpel. The tension has built up slowly over the last two hours you've spent working on a man, who got his leg blown off handling faulty fireworks.

You're pressing into his chest, trying to force life back into his body, one beat at a time.

"Fuck no." Emery approaches the table, ready to shove you aside. "You should not be running this."

"This is not the time for you to tell me what to do, Dr. Walsh." You counter, your movements focused.

Jack is beside you, watching every step closely. His eyes flicker to Walsh's, you pretend you don't see them exchanging a look.

Your priority is the patient on your table.

Assess. Stabilize. Move upstairs.

"Third unit's in." Jesse states.

"Okay, pulse check." You order, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

Emery presses her fingers against the patient's pulse points. "No femoral. No carotid." The words make your heart drop and for a second it feels like it's you hooked up to the monitor, the flatline mirroring your failure.

You resume compressions. "We had a pulse after three packed cells", exhaling deeply with each push. "We need to get him up asap, Em." Em. Not Emery. Not Dr. Walsh. Your professional exterior clearly cracked wide open, ribs spread apart.

"We need a pulse to go to the OR. You know this." Emery hovers next to you now. You can feel her breath against your damp skin.

Jack doesn't say anything, but you get the feeling he's with Emery. His arms are crossed, his weight shifting from one leg to the other, worry written across his features. His own trauma pulling at the seams. But he doesn't let it in. He's focused on you, watching you touch your belly in a nervous tic.

The realization that this is a battle you're going to lose, dizzies you. You take a step back, hands slightly trembling, as Javadi takes over compressions. A million techniques and procedures flash through your mind.

A lifetime worth of training. Of knowledge. But nothing makes sense. Your brain starts to short-circuit.

Focus on the medicine.

"I could try a REBOA?" Santos suggests, stressing the word with dangerous confidence.

"Would that work?" Javadi cuts in, panting.

You don't look, but you feel Jack shaking his head softly, with a resigned sadness.

"Dr. Abbot, step back." Emery grabs your elbow, forceful.

You shove her with the same attitude, turning your attention back to the patient. "He's right on the edge..."

"Dr. Abbot." Emery moves to the other Abbot, willing him to say something.

Jack nods, silently reaching for your hand. The cold sensation on your clammy skin startles you. You pull your hand away, sharply. Nearly throwing him off balance.

You stare at them incredulous, their betrayal like a sharp stabbing pain in your back.

When did they team up? Against you, nonetheless.

"It's not Jack!" Emery yells without thinking, but she fears it's the only thing that can pull you back to the surface.

The flatline echoes in the distance, but you don't wait for them to call time of death.

Your mouth opens slightly, but no words come out. Gloves are ripped off with a snap, before you flee the scene. Not ready to face the consequences of your defeat.

After finishing the rest of his shift, Jack enters the home you've built together. The curtains are drawn. The lights dim. No familiar smell coming from the kitchen.

He paces through the empty hallway before he finds you in the ensuite bathroom, still washing today's trauma off. Scrubbing. Until your hands are sore. Then scrubbing some more.

"I’m not trying to fight with you." His voice is low and soft.

"Then don’t." You scoff. "Don’t take her side. She wasn’t there."

"No." Jack shakes his head in acknowledgement. "But she means well." He surprises himself by siding with his supposed mortal enemy.

"She always does this. Acting like she needs to fix me."

"Surgeons." Jack offers playfully, but you don't bite.

"I'm not her fucking patient."

Jack reaches for your hand, attempting to pull you out of your spiral.

"Fuck off." You snap. Too harshly.

"Hey." His eyes sharpen. "I can't talk to you like this."

"Yeah? That's kind of the point."

"Last I checked, this means something." He grabs your hand, bringing the delicate ring on your finger into vision. You snatch your hand away.

"The piece of metal that binds you to me? Without it you'd have run for the hills ages ago." This conversation is starting to feel more and more like a losing battle in itself. It's like you're right back in that trauma room. Fighting for someone’s future. Though this isn't quite as tangible.

Why didn't med school prepare you for this?

Jack huffs a humorless laugh. "Every day. In love and in life." He breaks eye contact. "Even when you resent me."

"No. Don't do this. You don't get to tell me, I resent you for choosing you. For years, I let you act like I'm doing this selflessly. A noble sacrifice in the name of love. Like it was your fault-"

"We both know it was." Jack's words rip through the air like a bullet. Tearing straight through your heart. Leaving you breathless, unable to speak. The air constricting, like there's a tube down your throat.

"Don't pretend it wasn't. I was sent home. You could've stayed. But you didn't and you've hated me since." There's a brutally honest edge to his confession that feels like someone's sliced you open, vultures waiting to feast on your organs.

You process for a few beats, before rediscovering your voice. Shock slowly replaced by anger.

"Don't ever say that to me again." You cross your arms, hiding your trembling hands in the safety of your embrace, the hurt palpable. "I did that for you." You say quietly, painfully aware of the throbbing ache in your chest.

"Yeah? I never fucking asked you to."

This isn't Jack. But something within him's snapped. He fears if he doesn't lay it all out on the table now, there's no chance of recovery.

Soon you'll be the one calling time of death on your marriage.

You stare at him, suddenly realizing you've exhausted all options. There's nothing more you can do. You gave it your best.

You really fucking tried.

"I wanted this. I wanted you. But I'm... tired." You hesitate. "Maybe it's time we stop trying."

Jack is silent, already anticipating where you're going, knowing you saying the words out loud will break him.

You search his eyes, only to find your own grief reflected back at you.

"People get divorced, Jack. All the time."

The weight of your words crushes him, compressing his lungs. The force on his body leaving him momentarily paralyzed.

He just blinks at you, his expression illegible.

Your eyes are locked on his, willing him to say something.

Back in control of his muscles, Jack moves to his side of the bed, silently grabbing his pillow and heading towards the door.

You furrow your brows. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Jack answers, an unexpected resignation in his voice.

You groan. "I'll sleep on the couch. You stay."

Jack says your name like he's breaking the news of someone's passing to their loved ones. Crushed by a new reality, even if they're in denial.

"Are you serious?" You ask, blocking the doorway with an unwavering confidence that is usually reserved for emergencies.

Maybe this is one.

"Yeah, I'm serious. Move." His words are composed and determined, like he's not speaking as your husband, but your attending.

"You know you'll get no sleep on that thing. You'll be fucked tomorrow-" You try to reason.

"I don't need you to protect me!" He yells, too loud. The shrill tone taking you aback, making your heart race like someone's calling a code. "Stop treating me like I'm broken."

You grimace, your hand instinctively finds your belly again, your nails digging tightly into your battleworn skin.

Jack immediately retreats. "I- I'm sorry-"

Shouting is the one thing you don't do. You fight. You argue. You walk away. But you don't let anger boil over to the point of raising your voices at the other. Your therapist finds it healthy. But you both know it's from a combination of your PTSD triggers and shared trauma.

"Do me a fucking favor and sleep in our bed." You hiss, ripping the pillow from his hands and throwing it back onto the bed.

Before the next wave of pain hits you, you disappear into the bathroom to splash water on your flushed face.

Jack stands still for a moment, instant regret shooting through him. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his palms.

He calls out for you again, softer.

"I'm leaving! Fuck." You stumble back into the room, face wet, eyes burning. You find him looking up at you with a sadness you've only seen once before. Your heart palpitates with sorrow. Each skipped beat a reminder of all the loss and heartbreak.

"Please." He gestures at the duvet, gently touching the empty space next to him. "Stay."

In a moment of vulnerability, you truly see your husband in front of you. Your person.

With familiar effortlessness you kneel down in front of him, your hands resting gently on his tensed thighs.

A glimpse of what was. Intimate and tender.

Your hands find his prosthetic, sliding it off with practiced ease, slowly working it out of the socket.

"You're not broken."

Your words wrap around his heart, loving and earnest, like your hands massaging his leg.

You linger in his space, staring directly into his soul. Your eyes expressing more than every language in the world.

"You're whole."

Jack’s thumb instinctively caresses your cheek. The kind of closeness you both crave deeply, but haven't found in each other in far too long.

You both slide onto the bed, silently staring up at the ceiling.

Jack turns to look at you, before softly placing his palm on your abdomen.

"Is that really what you want?" He whispers into the darkness, afraid to hear your answer.

The silence hangs heavy with the words unsaid.

You notice the awful ringing in your ears first.

It's so fucking loud.

At the same time, you can't hear anything at all. Your brain is too slow to catch up.

Jack, the other medic in your unit, - and secret fling - just handed you a cheap beer. You were eating burnt food. As usual, when you were in charge of dinner.

Why are you on the ground?

Sharp objects pierce your sunburnt skin. A cocktail of sand and ash forces its way inside your mouth and nostrils, making you gag. You gasp for air, willing the dust around you to disperse.

But a cloud of darkness blinds you. Fiery sparks and flashes shooting through the air without direction.

Then it hits you, like a second wave of explosives.

Your unit was ambushed.

Where's Jack?

You stumble to your feet, desperately looking for something to hold onto. To steady you. Rough hands suddenly grab at you, pulling you behind metal walls for cover.

Your sergeant. Shouting at you like there's no tomorrow, but you can't make out what.

He's violently shaking your shoulders, then just as quickly, he's somewhere else. You drop back against the wall with a harsh thud.

It takes all of your energy to let your head fall to one side. When you spot him. Just out of the corner of your eye.

Jack.

On the ground.

Gasping, breathing erratically, staring up at the sky, like he's waiting to become a part of it.

For a second you let your eyes dart to where he's looking.

A beautiful, peaceful sight. The world above you, blissfully unaware of the atrocities going on below.

Something brings you back. A distorted sound.

A low, agonizing cry. You don't know where it's coming from, until your eyes shoot back to Jack.

Still on the ground.

Fuck. You're trained for this.

Why is he not moving? Why aren't you?

Your eyes scan his body, your medical instincts taking over like muscle memory. Assessing.

Your gaze lands on his torso. There's no obvious trauma, your eyes move lower, towards his hips, his pelvis, down to his legs.

Then you see it. The massive gash below his right knee.

You don't think. You just react.

Don't even register your seargent shouting at you again. Your legs carrying you to Jack's side, dropping to your knees beside him.

Not as his partner, not his girlfriend.

There's barely a trace of the woman he's grown to love, only the professional, hardened combat medic.

With one goal.

Assess, stabilize, evacuate.

Your hands move on autopilot, tightening a tourniquet just below his knee. Desperate to stop the-

To stop the love of your life from bleeding out!!

Your professional demeanor cracks, your eyes suddenly dart to Jack's. His are already on you. Holding onto you like you're the anchor tying him to this life.

The tourniquet holds. Your hands find his face. Desperate to comfort him in any way you can.

You can't speak. Neither does Jack.

And you still cannot hear a thing.

Not even when muffled thuds go off. You don't acknowledge your team readying their guns. Your only focus is Jack.

Then you feel it. Not the impact, but the warm liquid instantly soaking your uniform.

Your eyes flicker to your abdomen. It doesn't register immediately.

Though when it does, the world suddenly regains volume. The sound almost deafening.

Fuck.

No Man's Land.

But it doesn't matter. Only one thing does.

Protect Jack.

You throw your body over his, shielding him from whatever's coming.

You can feel his ragged breaths against your neck, your blood leaking into his uniform. Flooding him with your warmth, while your skin grows cold.

If this is goodbye, there’s no one you’d rather be with.

Minutes pass.

The dust settles. The sounds slow. But unfortunately, so does your breathing.

It takes all of your energy to lift your head just enough to find Jack's eyes underneath you. Looking up at you with a sadness you hope to God you'll never see again.

He's scared to death. Though not for himself.

You give him a brave smile to reassure him, before dropping onto your back.

There's too much blood.

Jack's. Yours. It's all one.

If you go, he’ll follow. And vice versa.

Without wasting a second, one of Jack's arms pulls you closer, throwing his hand over your wound. Gathering all of his remaining strength to apply pressure.

To protect you.

The world around you starts to fade. Your team moves around you frantically.

But you and Jack, just lie there, still, holding each other.

Until darkness takes you.

You wake to an empty bed, made perfectly, like it wasn't slept in. You stumble into the kitchen to find your coffee and go-bag ready on the counter, the habitual gesture making you smile, before the sadness rushes back in.

Is that really what you want?

Then you notice the stick-it note attached to the fridge.

We should talk to someone.

Vague as ever.

A therapist? A lawyer? God?

A jarring ding pulls you out of your head.

You open the door swiftly, being greeted with an iced oat latte and your favorite pastries from the coffee shop across the street. A cheap attempt at a peace offering.

"Have we calmed down or are we still pouting?" Walsh's sarcastic tone echoes through the hallway.

You attempt to slam the door shut, but she beats you to it, quickly wedging her foot into the frame. You roll your eyes, hard, before making your way back into your living room. Satisfied, she accepts the invitation and follows you in.

"It wasn't your place to get involved." You state, serious, crossing your arms and sinking into your corner of the couch.

Walsh sets the coffee down next to you before placing the pastries on the bottom shelf of your fridge. Her movements are familiar, like she's done this a thousand times.

With a groan she sits down on the other end of the couch, your eyes tracking her.

"Someone had to say it." She states nonchalantly, sipping her own latte.

Sure no one else would've dared. But…

"It was still fucked up."

She sighs deeply, leaning forward to shove the cup closer to you, like the ice can melt away the betrayal. "I'm sorry."

You nod, reluctantly taking a sip of your coffee.

"I suggested a divorce." You blurt out.

Emery almost chokes on her drink, eyes wide. "You what?"

God. Her reaction somehow makes it worse.

"I just don't see a way of moving forward, Em. Something needs to change."

Emery nods.

"We were happier once, weren't we?" You ask, like a child seeking reassurance from a parent.

"I don't know." Walsh answers truthfully. "But you were sadder before him."

"Do you think I smother him?"

Emery leans in, taking your hand. "You saved each other. In more ways than one." She gives you a squeeze. "Maybe you forgot that being married is more than sharing a home."

Though you usually work night shifts now, you've agreed to take a day one, your and Jack's shifts only slightly overlapping.

Preparing for the madness to come, you find yourself on the roof of PTMC to watch the world come alive before your eyes. The first rays of sunshine spreading warmth across your skin against the cold of the night.

This is where Jack comes to process particularly bad cases. It means something to him. So it does to you too.

It didn't surprise you that Jack proposed on a roof. Not this one. He's not that morbid. It was your first apartment. But without any grand gesture. No fairy lights, cozy blankets or candlelight dinner.

It was simple.

Just two people, in love.

To be fair there was a blanket. One. And he wrapped you both in it, while you were watching the stars above. Or at least you were. Jack was gazing at something far more mesmerizing. His future flashing before his eyes, like a shooting star.

Everything that's truly ever mattered, leaning into him. Seeking comfort in the darkness, finding it in his warmth. And he in yours.

“Marry me.” He whispered it with a confidence like he already knew what you were going to say.

You only just notice you stepped under the railing, a little too close to the edge. But somehow, you get the appeal. Of how being this close to certain death makes you feel weirdly alive.

The door creaks open, you don't have to turn around to know who it is. You can hear it in his footsteps.

"I'm in your spot." You state, beating Jack to it.

"I hate it when you do this." He mutters under his breath, approaching slowly.

"Ditto." You counter with a smirk, turning your head slightly to shoot him a glance.

"If you lose balance, you go over... that’s it."

"Don’t be so dramatic." You sigh theatrically.

He shifts his weight and groans, arms clinging onto the railing. Your eyes flicker to him, as he rests his head.

Your brows furrow. "You okay?"

He lifts his head just enough to look at you. "Are you?"

You can't help but smile. He returns it with a grin, announcing his dry humor is about to make a guest appearance. "Aim for the bay, otherwise you’ll hit the roof and end up on my table."

You laugh, like you haven't in years. A reminder of before.

He huffs. "But I hope you know, if you jump, I’ll hate you forever."

"I thought you already did." You say it as a joke, but it hits a nerve. Jack's face grows serious.

You turn to fully face him. "I know it wasn't you. Yesterday. With Em."

"Yeah." He mouths, understanding. "But it took you back." A statement, not a question.

"I felt it." Your eyes begin to sting with a familiar burn. "The pain, the fear... the thought of losing you-"

"I swear we were friends." Jack interrupts, unable to shake his thoughts. You tilt your head in confusion. "Before all this. Before the pitt, the tours, coming back."

You listen, even though it really fucking hurts. Because it's true.

"Before we were lovers. Before we became strangers." He sighs deeply. “I don’t recognize us. We never run away from the hard stuff.”

A realization suddenly hits you. "I think I changed. And so did you. But we didn't.”

Your inhales deepen, both of you now breathing in perfect harmony.

Jack leans closer, tilting his head to make sure his words reach your soul. "I want this. This life. With you. I'll never stop wanting it. Even if you choose to walk away."

"I don't..." Jack's face drops, you quickly elaborate. "I don't want to leave you, Jack. My worst fear is a life without you."

Jack exhales like he wasn't breathing until now, sadness, grief and heartbreak visibly leaving his body.

You lean in too. "What if we find new ways to share it?"

Years of unresolved sadness finally come to light. Beautifully mirrored by the rising sun. Another chapter.

A new beginning.

Jack reaches for your hand. Only this time you don't pull away. You stay. And let Jack hold you. Like he promised. Like you both did.

Every day.

© quickestgold, 2025.

Taglist: @mayabbot @sus-styles @clarasmoon @ezraphalitis @ncsls0515 @melancholyy-hill lmk if you want to be added! ☼

[calypso-apologist]

Is it possible that you could do a yandere Odysseus x Reader? It doesn't matter what kind of reader tbh...... Whatever your comfortable with is fine.

not my best one but it should be a decent read, at least-

Yandere!Odysseus returning after twenty years ♡

CW: murder. mentions of blood. yandere themes.

Twenty years.

You've waited for the love of your life to return for twenty years.

You've raised your son, watched him grow into a man. A dreamer, wanting to meet his father again, this time able to actually remember it. He was so little when Odysseus left, he couldn't have any memories of him. You tried to fill the void with tales of your beloved husband, sparking Telemachus's eagerness for adventures.

But as years passed, you started to lose hope. Despite standing strong, never letting your doubts show, doing whatever you could to stall. You'd weave the funeral shroud during the day and then unthread it at night, fooling the suitors for as long as you could.

And then, one day... the storm. You didn't know why, but you firmly believed that storm was a sign. He was back, damn it, he had to be. As foolish as your hope might've been... you were right. And you realized that, hearing the screams of men slaughtered in the halls of your very own palace.

You couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. As terrible as the suitors were, you thought Odysseus would merely chase them away after completing the challenge you've made. Pull a scary trick, threaten them a little, scare them into leaving... not kill everyone and screaming at them in fury.

And while your soul was soothed when you heard him with Telemachus, the moment he walked through the door to your bedroom, there was something... off.

It was your husband, yes. Worn out by two decades of trials and tribulations, with tired eyes and a frame much lighter than you remembered. You could probably pick him up easily, with how light he seemed now.

And despite the tired, sad look he gave you, despite the hesitance with which he approached you... something was wrong. Something in your body screamed at you to run.

You put that dreadful feeling aside as listened to him confess to all the horrid things he's done while away. You forced yourself to remain stern as you offered him one last challenge - the wedding bed.

And yet... something snapped in him when you demanded that he moves it. You could almost hear his heart shatter like a vase thrown against a wall. You could see the last few sparks of life leave his eyes. The way his fists clenched at your order.

For the first time in your life, he raised his voice at you.

He shouted, gripping your arms. How dare you? How could you? Do you not know what he went through? Do you not understand the hardships he endured? All the ways the gods have tormented him?

Do you even know how much he lost, just to get back to you?!

He's been to Hades and back, he watched his friends die, he endured years evading the advances of a Goddess, just to stay loyal to you, and here you were, thinking you could mock him by asking him to move the wedding bed that he carved into the olive tree that you've first met him under?! The tree he built his whole damn castle around?!

He was furious with you until you screamed back at him, making him realize that you were only testing him. And yet... it would seem the damage was done. Even despite how he seemed to soften again, there was something different in his eyes.

You could see how despite how gentle his hands were as they cradled your face, this wasn't your husband anymore.

It wasn't Odysseus, it was a monster.

Of course, he'd never harm you! No, no, no, you were his precious spouse, the love of his life! And he would never let anyone even try to separate you from him again.

And if you could leave your bedroom, you'd know that. It wasn't just suitors he killed, no... he slaughtered everyone who wasn't you or Telemachus.

He came back to his family. And he would keep his damn family as close as possible, damn it.

No matter the cost.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Baby, I'm Cold

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

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

Summary: Your boss is a stubborn man but even he can get sick. (plus!reader)

Character: August Walker

Day Twenty-One of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - I swear I'm not sick

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

Mr. Walker leaves his bag at the door, his jacket too. You move his shoes so they sit neatly on the drip tray and hang his jacket. You pick up his briefcase and carry it up to his office. As you near the closed door, you hear him coughing from the other side. 

You slow as you approach and knock on the door, “sir, I have your things.” 

He coughs again then calls through hoarsely, “in.” 

You twist the handle and dip inside. You set the bag on the leather armchair where you always do and retreat as your employer sniffles. He lets out a crackly sigh after. He sits behind his desk, silent, stony. His usual self except for the raspy breaths he lets out. 

You don’t await his dismissal. You know if he has to tell you to go, it means you’ve overstayed. Mr. Walker prefers discretion. He prefers solace. It makes your job both easy but difficult. 

You leave and go down to the kitchen. At this time, he won’t have eaten. He’ll need dinner. With his cough and stuffed nose in mind, you prepare him some chicken and rice soup. You put a thick hunk of artisinal bread with it and a cup of tea. 

You carry it up to him and announce your purpose at the door, “dinner, sir.” 

He grumbles. You know his sounds well enough to enter. You bring the tray to his desk as he sits back in his chair, unmoving, eyes closed, hands firm around the rests. You hear the rattle in his chest from there. 

“Anything else, sir?” 

He opens one eye and the icy blue chills you. His single iris flicks down as he considers the tray. He opens his other eye and sits forward. He swallows another cough. 

“What is this?” He touches the mug’s handle. 

“Tea, sir. I found some ginger. I added a touch of honey--” 

“Why?” 

“Why, sir?” 

“I don’t drink tea. I haven’t ever drunk tea. It’s for my mother. So why--” He snaps his mouth shut and his throat strains as he holds back another cough. He lets out a single croak and clears away the rocky crags. “Why are you serving it to me?” 

“Oh, uh, sir, it will soothe your cough--” 

“I’m not sick.” 

“Yes, sir, the air is dry this time of year,” you agree. 

“I don’t want the fucking tea.” 

“Sir.” 

You come around and take the cup. He sits back again and turns the seat away. You hold the steaming cup and quickly head for the door. You stop, remind by his reprimand of something else. 

“Your mother and father will arrive tomorrow morning. I’ve arranged their room and all else.” You confirm. 

“Great, you did your job,” he sneers dryly. 

“Sir,” you murmur and turn to the door. 

Just a few more hours and you’ll be free. It’s the holidays and even Mr. Walker gave you a day to spend with your family. Though you suspect it’s more that he doesn’t want you around his.  

For the three years you’ve worked for him, you’ve never met a single other person in his life. You clean the house, you pick up his laundry, and you order groceries. You are peripheral. You are the tedium that fuels the more concerning parts of his life. 

🌟

Your mother and stepfather are arguing on the porch. Again. Your aunt and uncle are showing off their toddler grandchild, and your brother, the terrible twins, more than a decade your junior, are flipping through their phones. You sit and observe it all. 

You glance at the window, your mom’s anger expounded in the wag of her finger. You get up as the smell of ham draws you into the kitchen. You check to make sure it’s not overdone then piddle around, trying to distract yourself from the chaos. 

Your back pocket rumbles. You ignore it. It’s some promo trying to entice you into ordering food. On Christmas of all day. As the vibration persists, you assume it’s some poor telemarketer, forced to make the rounds for a bit of overtime pay. 

You ignore it. You work on finishing the brussel sprouts your mother left in the strainer. You cut of the ends and slice an X into them. Your phone starts again. You don’t put down the knife until the third call. 

Walker. 

You hesitate but pick up. Why would he be calling, today of all days. You fix your posture as you answer, as if he can see you. 

“Mr. Walker,” you eke out, nervous you might have missed something. 

“Hello, is this...” a woman says your name curiously. 

“Uh, yes, it’s me,” you affirm. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry to bother you, especially today, but we are in need of some help,” her voice is tremulous. 

“I told you,” a male can be heard more distantly. “We shouldn’t bother them. There’s a reason they aren’t here, dear.” 

“Pish,” the woman dismisses. “Very sorry again but my son--” 

“Katherine,” you say, “Mr. Walker’s mother?” 

“Yes, Auggy is my son,” she tuts. “As I was trying to explain, he’s doing rather poorly but he’s refusing my care. He’s always been awfully stubborn, you know?” 

“Kath,” the man drones. 

“Oh, I know, I know,” she squeals at him. “He doesn’t want his mommy fluttering around him like an old hen, but you understand, he’s my baby. I’m worried. And so we were looking and saw your name. A girl’s name so you must be someone special.” 

“Katherine,” the man sighs once more. 

“I’m his housekeeper, ma’am,” you explain. 

“Hum, oh, of course. You would be,” she says. “Oh, my, I’m afraid I’ve assumed so much.” 

“Is he still coughing then?” You ask. 

“Oh, yes, terrible. He sounds as if he’s swallowed glass.” 

“We’ll call a doctor,” the man intones. 

“Octavius, please, which doctor do you suggest we call? They all fly out of the country on their salaries,” she chirps. “Honey, please, if you don’t mind, you might be able to coax him. If you are his maid, you’d only be doing your job. He can’t turn you away.” 

You frown. She doesn’t know how wrong she is. He would and he will. 

“Lucine, please,” your step father’s voice blows through with a gust as he comes inside. His anger is forged into his tone and the door slams. You wince. 

“I can be there,” you tell Katherine. It won’t make a difference but it will get you away from all this. 

🌟

Katherine as good as drags you through the door. You didn’t even knock before she swung it open. She’s a tall woman, plump, and her face is rosy. She’s not what you expect. 

“Yes, come in, come in,” she says. “Oh, what’ve you brought?” 

She gestures to the canvas bag on your elbow. 

“Just some stuff to help,” you explain as the warmth of inside seeps beneath the chill in your cheeks. “Hopefully.” 

“Oh, yes, how clever of you.” 

She takes the bag and you let her. She sets in on the bench and unbuttons your top button before you can stop her. You gently catch her hands then do the rest yourself. 

“Sorry, dear, sorry. It’s only, I’m so worried.” 

“He’s a man, he’ll be fine. If you’d stop pecking at him, he wouldn’t be hiding,” a man appears in the archway to the den. He’s big like Mr. Walker, with white hair and paler eyes. He crosses his arms in the same way. That must be the father. 

“He’s sick! You heard him. He wouldn’t listen--” 

“He was doing just fine, Katherine.” 

“Tosh, you don’t know that. You never were there when he was home sick. He needs his orange juice and chicken noodle.” 

“He needs you to stop,” the man you assume is Octavius reproaches. 

“I can check on him but... it’s probably just a cold,” you say as you slip out of your boots. 

“So long as you try.” 

“Right,” you grab the bag and twist the handles. 

You go to the bottom of the stairs and look up. You peer side to side, from mother, to father, both tentatively watching you in turn. It seems Walker puts everyone at arm’s length. 

You take the first step with trepidation. Then the second. Up and up, you climb until you reach the top. You turn down the hallway and come to the office door. You bite the inside of your lip and knock. You don’t get an answer. 

You look at the bag in your hand and contemplate running back downstairs. You can say you tried and got the same result. Still, that Walker doesn’t shout for you to scram is worrying. 

You knock again to the same result. Several more taps go unanswered before you are faced with another decision. Do you go in, just to make sure? 

It would be a waste. You left your family, Katherine waited around for you, you suppose you can brave Walker’s wrath to give her the gift of knowing all is well. 

You inhale and hold it in. You enter the office, peeking through as you do. It’s dim but for the light of the glass lamp on the desk. As you look for the broad figure behind it, you find only an empty chair. 

You frown. He must be in his room or-- 

The grumble jars you. You squint as you try to see through the dark. You find Mr. Walker on the leather settee near the artificial fireplace set into the wall. Great. You should go. You can do that still. He’s not answering you so obviously he doesn’t want to be disturbed. 

He coughs, a sharp, agonizing cough that makes even your throat hurt. You let your breath out. Ugh. He’s a big boy, literally, he can handle it. Right? 

Shit. 

You cross the room and turn the dial on the artificial fireplace. It lights up, casting a soft glow over the office. You turn to find Walker shivering on the cushions, arms crossed as he hugs himself, legs bent to accommodate the short furniture. 

“Mr. Walker, I brought some cough drops and some cold medicine,” you say.  

He groans and doesn’t move. He hacks again, the couch frame creaking under his weight. Why? You shouldn’t feel bad for him. Not for as unpleasant as he’s consistently been. 

You move a leather stool closer and sit. You cradle the bag on your knees and sift through the contents. You take out the bottle of Buckleys. You shake it and reach with your other hand to touch his shining forehead. His eyes pop open and his mustache twitches. 

“Mr. Walker, I have cough syrup--” 

“I’m fine,” he insists, only to cough again. “I don’t want that—sh-- *cough*-- shi-- *cough*” He devolves into a fit and you wait patiently. 

“If you don’t want it, you should try some of these ginger drops.” 

“Why are you here?” 

You steady your agitation. “Your mother called me.” 

“Why did she--” He can’t finish the question. 

“She asked me to help you. I’m trying but I can’t do much if you won’t let me. However, you are my boss so you can tell me to go back home to my family,” you shrug. 

He looks at you then closes his eyes. He shifts onto his back and lifts his legs, extending them over the armrest. He is ridiculous big on the short sofa. 

“Do whatever. I thought you were a maid, not--” 

He can’t finish the insult but you get the gist. You dig around in the bag and take out the tin of menthol rub. You uncap it as his face contorts in an effort to repress his coughing. You hold it out under his nose and he sucks in and flinches. 

He grabs his nose as you recoil and blinks, “what is that?” 

“Just menthol, it will clear your airways a bit.” 

“Oh,” he furrows his dark brows. 

“Typically, you put it on your chest but it’s kind of greasy so--” 

“Do that,” he insists and sniffs deeply, “it’s helping.” 

“Oh, uh...” you stare at him. 

He’s sallow, the brims of his eyes reddened, and his face drawn. You nod and lightly touch the gel. You hesitate. You won’t be able to reach him and... right. 

“Can you...” You look at his shirt collar, “unbutton.” 

He coughs again, a rumble in his chest, and he clumsily pinches his buttons until he frees them. He pulls the fabric apart to reveal his furry chest and you stand. You move closer and bend over him as you gently trace beneath his throat, that little crook of bone above his muscled pecs. You focus on spreading the menthol as he breathes deeper, further puffing out his chest. 

“Better?” You ask. 

He makes a noise, something akin to a purr. You rub the cream in until It’s absorbed then pull away. You cap the container and put it back in the bag. You put it all on the stool and back away. 

“Where are you going?” Walker mutters. 

“To wash my hands,” you say. 

“Mmm, be quick.” 

You take his orders and hurry out. You come down the hallway and dip into the bathroom to rinse your hands. As you dry off, you nearly squeal as a shadow appears in the door. Katherine wrings her hands as she shifts back and forth. 

“Is he okay?” She asks. 

“He’s fine, I think. Just sick. Stubborn.” 

“Oh, very,” she agrees with your last statement. 

“I’m just trying to get him to take some cough meds,” you explain. 

“Ah, good luck,” she trills, “I will make some tea, if you like?” 

“Uh, yeah, we can try that,” you agree. 

She hurries off and you go back down the hall. The smell of menthol and the crackle of the fake fire welcome you in. You go to the settee as Walker lays quietly, breathing in and out, as his shirt remains open. 

“I think the cough syrup will help,” you say. 

He doesn’t respond. You watch the cadence of his chest. Is he asleep. You move around slowly, trying not to knock anything with your hip or step too heavy. You gather up the bag. He can probably sleep it off. 

You let out a squeal as you feel a brush against your bum. You spin as Walker’s arm extends to you and he catches your hip. You stutter in surprise. 

“S-sir!” 

“I’m sick,” he whines, though the surrender is hardly a triumph. “Please...” 

You stare at him. You don’t know what’s worse. The brave face or the pathetic victim. 

“Baby, I feel so bad,” he squeezes and you look down at his large hand. He must be really sick if he’s calling you that. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Walker,” you take his hand and move it off your hip. You lower yourself onto the edge of the couch and bend his arm over his chest. “Your mom’s going to make you some tea.” 

“Mmmm,” he drones and reaches for you again. “Don’t leave.” 

“Sir,” you look down as his touch follows your sleeve to your shoulder then curls down your back, stopping on your waist. You grab his wrist again. “I’ll stay, just... relax.” 

“Yes, baby,” his fingers dip into your soft side, “whatever you want me to do.” He tugs free of your grip and trails along the top of your butt, “just stay.” 

You narrow your eyes and once more stop his stray hand. You cling to it as you direct it away from you, keeping hold of him to keep from another rogue groping. He’s sick for sure. So sick, he must be delusional. 

“Alright, I'm here, Mr. Walker.” 

He opens his eyes and looks at you. You wince at the intensity in his glassy irises. His cheek ticks and he hums again. 

“Mm...” he drawls weakly. “So... soft.” 

[joeldjarin]

TOO CLICHÉ

| boss! harry castillo x female reader

Summary: You work for your boss Harry Castillo for 3 years who you have secretly fallen for. the relationship between you changes as he starts dating a beautiful girl, Lucy, who is his buddy's match maker.

Warning: ANGST, PINING, jealous!reader, no description of the reader's body, insecured reader, LUCY, jealous! harry , special character appearance , allusions to smut, happy ending, 2nd person pov, 18+, smut, Harry in his mid 40s and reader late 20s or early 30s but really it's up to you.

5-6k words

Author's note: I've been in this fandom for almost for half a decade but this is my FIRST FIC so be kind y'all pleaseee. English isn't my first language so sorry in advance for mistakes.

TOO CLICHÉ

Work is hard but working under someone you have massive big fat crush on? Now that’s a real challenge and you’re convinced that you are god’s toughest warrior because you’re not sure how you are able to hide your infatuation with this insanely hot, millionaire gentleman Harry Castillo under the disguise of professionalism.  

It’s been almost three years you are working for him as his personal assistant. It’s a job that pays well and your boss is pretty friendly and generous. Plus you get to look at him so that’s a bonus.

Harry Castillo is a dream man, he had it all, money, looks, personality  yet he was still lacking in his romantic life. He used to date few people over the years but they used him as a money machine and discarded him when they got their fair share. You couldn’t understand how they are able to just let HIM down.

Only if he was mine you sighed, but you know it was impossible. He was way out of your league. First of all you were way younger than him. Secondly he dated women who were also posh and knew what they were doing with their life. You on the other hand……. Okay enough. Back to work!

You typically worked in your office room which was in his big fancy apartment. You knew what he liked, what he wore, what he ate, basically everything. You also pretty much knew all the clients like the back of your hand and harry often repaid with gifts for your over timing but really you don’t mind working for him. Your family didn’t live in the city so you went to empty home. Harry was also protective. Whenever you needed help you knew you could ask him for a hand.

The relation between you two were pretty close, having worked under him for now more that couple of years have really let you see the side of him that most people didn’t. He trusted you for both his official works as well as his personal life affairs. He confided about his life in you so you cherish the friendship you have built. You don’t want to ever jeopardize it because of some silly crush.

You were listing this week’s meetings when you got your call from Mr. Castillo to go to him.

You knock on his door.

“Hey come in!”

 You enter to see him already holding two suits to show you. Today is his buddy’s wedding and you know what this means.

You show him the black one in his right hand, “This fits you better”.

“You sure?” he cocks his eyebrows.

“99%” you smile.

“Where’s the 1%?” he is clearly amused.

“Depends on whether you believe it or not while wearing it” you smirk. And huffs at that.

“Okay then this is it. We’re leaving at sharp 10.”

“Yes sir!” you say and he smiles.

“You think I’ll find someone there?” he winks and you roll your eyes,

“Sure.” and you smile too praying to god he doesn’t.

Ugh stop being selfish!

Lately you’ve been kinda relieved because he is single. That doesn’t mean you think you have a chance with him but last time he was with Anna you were sure you were very jealous. You could clearly see she was more into his money than him and eventually she left and you let out the heaviest sigh like it was weighing you down the whole time they dated. After everything Harry has done for you, you felt guilty for being happy when he was going through break up but you knew she wasn’t good for him ultimately he’d be better off without her.

You arrive at the party at 10:30 and the wedding ceremony began and it was successful. Everyone drinking, cheering and happy and you couldn’t help but smile.

It has been one year since and Harry’s dating life hasn’t turned up. Low-key you were happy. One less thing to be bothered about.

_____________________________________________________________

You were drinking and enjoying the party while harry was with the groom. The party went on and at one moment Harry called you.

“You look beautiful.” he complimented and you couldn’t stop the shy smile that took over your face.

“Thank you”, you replied.

“Wanna dance?” he pointed his thumb towards the floor.

“There’s something I wanted to say” You were still dancing when he said and you were confused.

“Umm….Sure” you said ,now butterflies in your stomach.

Then he took you and danced and you laughed and you didn’t know how easily time slipped by while you were holding him dancing. This might be one of the happiest memory of your life you thought.

“Yes?”, you said nervously.

“Do you see her? Lucy! I’ve talked to her. She’s the match maker. Do you think she’ll dance with me?” Your stomach dropped.

“Oh… I mean you should ask her” you said trying to hide your disappointment.

“Well.. thought so” he smiled and he looked at Lucy with heart eyes and you wanted vomit right there. You had no right to feel that way but jealousy is a disease.

“You go ask her”, you give the best smile you can as you say so and he thanks you and leaves. There goes that dream.

You are drinking and seeing him smiling and dancing with…. Lucy. She is drop dead gorgeous and you get why Harry likes her. They look beautiful together and she looks like she is someone who can handle herself. Confident and pretty. Fuck!

The party was over and you were with harry as his car is dropping you at your house. Harry couldn't stop talking about Lucy and you learn they exchanged number and he’s already planning the next date. You hum and response, simply sad and don’t have energy to make conversation.

“You okay?” Harry looks concerned, You turned your head at him “No no I’m totally fine just tired”, you try to put on your facade.

“Okay but let me know if you feel off” he adds, and you nod in reply.

One week later

It’s been two months now.The dates are going smooth between Harry and Lucy. She frequents to the apartment so you give them space and stay away at your office. She’s a nice girl who is funny too. Great!

You were booking  a  table at a fancy restaurant for your boss, for his date. You tried to process this whole week and now you’re kind of back to normalcy even though jealousy is gnawing at you whenever he mentions Lucy. But you realize you can’t be bitter and you do need to accept and move on. But damn was it hard. All you thought about, was him. even in the privacy of your bedroom when your fingers were between your thighs you only came thinking about him. This is the reason you’ve been single and hasn’t invested your time in romantic life. This invisible loyalty you had for Harry was holding you back and he doesn’t even have feelings for you. Bummer!

______________________________________________________________

You limit your conversations with Harry only to work too because you know you should have a boundary since he now has a girlfriend. And if Harry has noticed he doesn’t say so yet. To be honest he misses spending time with you. You no longer went near him unless called and also became aloof. But he also is grateful for the personal space you have given to him since Lucy is in the picture. Lucy is great and he couldn’t be happier. He really wanted to make it work.

______________________________________________________________

They look perfect together. You hum to yourself as you see them laughing yet on another party. This has become your almost daily routine. You have to see them together almost everyday and you can’t stop feeling the sadness and god knows how you cry like a foolish little girl in your pillows at night.

You are drinking when a guy slids next to your sit.

“Mind if I Sit?” the guy asks with big brown puppy eyes and curls and a charming smile.

“Sure”, you smile.

“Can I buy you a drink?” the guy gives sweet grin and only then you notice, this is a handsome man and you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Sure” you say amused.

“Name’s Tommy. Tommy Miller. What’s your name sweetheart?” and you give him your name. You don’t know how long and easily this conversation is flowing and Tommy is really charming, funny. You learn he is from Texas.

You were laughing with Tommy when you heard your name getting called. It’s Harry. You excused yourself and went to stand next to Harry. Lucy probably went to washroom.

“How are you holding up?” He eyes Tommy and you give him assurance that you are okay and introduce him to Tommy.

“Tommy, this is Harry Castillo, My boss.” you smile and they shake hands. But something felt off with Harry you didn’t know why. He seemed like something bothered him but maybe he was just tired.

“ I’m going back home with Lucy. Do you want the lift?” and something in you triggered,

“No I think I will take Uber tonight thanks, you two enjoy.” You tried to give smile.

“Are you sure?You can come with us.” Harry insisted.

“I can give her lift”, Tommy announced, “Only if she agrees.” Harry looked at him with unreadable impression and you were thinking about the proposal and something in you clicked and you said, “Okay.”

Tommy grinned and Harry couldn’t hide his dissatisfaction and you clearly knew harry enough to know he was bothered. But you assumed it’s his protective side so you gave assurance that you’ll be okay.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” harry is worried as he should be because how did you just agree to go with a stranger you just met ten minutes ago and it’s pissing him off. You never go with someone else when he is there and he is the one usually giving you lift. So yeah harry wasn’t feeling okay but you were adult. If you chose someone he can’t change your mind.

“No, I think I’ll take the ride with Tommy.” you reply.

“Okay then take care. Text me when you get home” Harry left.

______________________________________________________________

“So how about tomorrow night at Tipsy Bison?” Tommy asks.

It’s been a month now that you’ve met Tommy. He’s hardworking guy and lovely. Also good in bed so you went along pretty nice and you were spending a lot of time with him but you felt guilty. You still haven’t been able to move on from Harry. Part of you thought dipping into dating will help you finally be over him. Wrong! It doesn’t help that you still see him everyday although the relationship between you and harry is rocky right now.

Lately he’s been snapping and scolding you and you swear you never saw him like that with you. He was always calm and collected. He’s also losing his tempers occasionally with clients and if you noticed all this you don’t say anything. He seems do be doing well with Lucy so you really don’t know what happened.

“Yeah sure, sounds nice. I’m in!”

“ Be ready at 6 then!God I miss you!”

“We just met yesterday Tommy” you giggled and he is sweet you gotta give him that.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t miss my girl”, you hear him before you heard your name and look up to your office door. Harry is standing clearly pissed, you don’t know why but you end the conversation with Tommy saying you’ll get back later.

“Hey! Do you needed anything?” You ask.

“Have you sent the mail to Martell enterprise about the meeting tomorrow?” he’s leaning at the door frame.

“Yes I think I did..”

“Are you sure? Because they say they didn’t receive anything”He cocks his eyebrows at you.

You quickly check the mail and it suddenly hit you that you totally forgot to do it yesterday. You wrote the mail and didn’t click send, Somehow you missed it and how could you fuck up something so big? SHIT!

“O shit I’m so so sorry Harry, I thought I sent it , I wrote the mail but…”

Harry raised his hand signaling you to stop so you stop.

“You don’t forget call you boyfriend now do you?” you eyes went wide not understanding what he’s trying to imply. He continues.

“Lately you’ve been irresponsible. I wonder why I pay you when there are more skilled people that’s fawning for your position.” It’s true that you did some fuck ups but it’s nothing irredeemable and although  yesterday's one really was big mistake, there’s no way this is the Harry you knew. You feel your stomach drop at his insults.

“What do you mean?” you don’t like how teary you’ve become and on the verge of crying.

“ You know what I mean. It’s time you start to focus on your job rather than chit chats with your boyfriend.” There was a venom mixed with his word and you felt sick. You maybe were his employee and maybe you thought he’s your friend but there’s a limit. He’s hurt your ego and this is clearly disrespectful of him. You’ve done nothing but serve him for years and this is how he treat you?

You gather your belongings and that startles Harry’s, “What are you doing?”

You get up from your desk and stand in front of harry despite the tears in your eyes, you don’t care what he sees but you feel like he broke your heart and there’s no going back

“I quit.”

“What do you mean?” harry confused.

“If you think you can find better okay, I’m leaving.I Quit and fuck you Harry Castillo!” you say with tears streaming your face and you storm past him not looking back.

You’re not going to take this from him. He’s an asshole you thought. And maybe it was time to start over.

______________________________________________________________

Harry’s POV

Harry feels restless. He doesn’t know why. He clearly got the lottery in life. He’s got wealth, a good life and a pretty girlfriend he loves. Then why does he feel empty. His mind often wonders to you, how are you doing, where you were. Have you eaten enough? Are you taking care of yourself? Are you with him? how  did you feel like….Okay stop! He knows you were off limits, so younger than him and his trusted friend. But sometimes his mind betrayed him and he feels guilty about that right after he comes in his hands at the thought of you. He has a beautiful  women beside him then why does his mind wonder towards you. He hates himself. This is not fair to neither you or Lucy.

Ever since that Tommy guy came in the picture he’s losing you. Not that he owned you, but there was a bitter feeling that he feels.

It started the first night you encountered. You were laughing and he missed it. He missed your laugh. You weren’t close anymore and didn’t have heart to heart conversation after he started dating. You stayed away and he understood that it’s you being mindful to give him privacy and he was thankful for that and he needed that to nurture his new relationship. He’s been working less time to give more time to Lucy. And everything is working out but he couldn’t help but hate himself for how he treated you recently. Especially that day. He clearly saw the hurt in your eyes. He never saw you this sad and defeated. He then realized what he did.

He fucked up and there’s no going back. And you quit. You fucking quit. He should’ve known better.

He called you that night so many times and you blocked him number. He could just drive to your home but that would be too invasive. He needed to give you space. It’s been a week since and he tried to message you on social media hoping that you’d listen just once, that he was sorry but you just kept him on seen. So he gave you space that you asked for.

One week later he got your resignation letter via mail.

So you wouldn’t even meet him? Lucy was told that night that you quit but harry didn’t share with her what happened.

“She just needs her time. I’m sure she has her reason. Just give her space. I hope whatever happened, she’ll come around.You are good friends. That won’t go away.” Lucy says brushing his head while she was sitting on his lap after learning that you quit.

But Harry knew better. You won’t.

One month after you left he thought about dropping by your place because you were still ignoring him and there was no social media updates from you but he found you moved out of your apartment. FUCK!

______________________________________________________________

8 months later

You often recount your last encounter and think what happened and you don’t regret your decision. You clearly needed to get out of a life where Harry Castillo wasn’t near and your mental health has improved. But at the middle of the night when you aren’t busy,  you remember him.

You broke up with Tommy. As much as he was sweet, you didn’t think you had it in you to continue. Even after everything happened you couldn’t get over Harry fucking Castillo. You thought it wasn’t fair to Tommy. So you ended things amicably a month after your resignation. You took that time to self reflect and made a shift in your career. You joined a tax firm as an administrative officer and your new work life is going well.

You moved to a different part of the city in a small apartment. So it was a fresh start for you. Even though you missed your old job, and your new job didn’t pay as much as harry did, but it’s decent enough that you could live with content. you remind yourself how bitterly your last job ended. That memory is enough for you to cringe.

How is he? Is he still as hot as he was? Is he still dating Lucy? Is he happy?

She was perfect for him. They looked good together, as much as you hate to admit, that’s the truth.

And when you come, it’s him in your thoughts. Still a foolish little girl.

“Hey! There’s new place that opened on the next street. Heard they have great sushi. It’s fancy. Wanna try this weekend?” Natasha, your work bestie asked.

“Mmmm…. sounds yum. Let’s go!” Your mouth watered.

“Dress well. Might find a price there.” she winks at you.

You roll your eyes. She knows about your last job and your ex boss that you pined after. She is like a big sister to you, nearly at her fifties. Occasionally you crash at her place when you are drunk , you spill teas. She makes your work place bearable. She has one girl who’s in college.

“Fuck that rich asshole” one day she said when he heard you mention Harry and you get why she is protective. You love her for that. She knows you more than most people. How crazy, in this short span how you found someone so lovely. Part of you is grateful that you met her because you left the old job. She’s someone who can listen to you without judging and she gives great advice. Both personally and professionally, as she’s been in this field nearly for two decades.

______________________________________________________________

You wear a black ankle length sweetheart neck dress that night. And you put in extra effort to look good, intending to have fun. You didn’t mind meeting someone new either. Let’s try again you thought.

It was 6 when you arrived and found Natasha sitting at a table. The place is indeed very fancy and there was a cocktail lounge too, including a VIP area. This was a big place.

Natasha waved at you when she saw you and you went to her immediately.

“Hey you look so beautiful love!” Natasha exclaims.

“Look who’s talking.” you smile big . She’s wearing a beautiful shade of red that’s complimenting her curves.

She rolls her eyes and mutters thank you.

You enjoy your meal and sip your drink while you yap away your time. You were laughing at one of her jokes when you heard your name being called and you freeze.

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. It’s him. You snap your head to the direction the voice came from.

There he is , standing in all his glory in that navy blue jacket he wore, as handsome as ever. He had a soft smile and you hated how your heart still somersaults when you look at him.

“Harry…” you couldn’t stop the gasp that leaves you and your smile that spread across your face. Although things ended bitterly, you didn’t hate him, couldn’t hate him. After all he was your one of the closest friend who stuck through thick and thin, well maybe not always otherwise you wouldn’t be here.

You stand from your sit, Natasha looks between you, clearly knowing what’s happening the moment his name left your mouth like she heard countless time through your rants.

He surprised you with a hug when you go near him. And you hug him back. Despite it all you missed him, too damn much.

“Hey! I missed you.” he said softly after loosening from your hold.

“Yeah?”

“Of course! How are you by the way? What a pleasant surprise to find you?”

You suddenly remember Natasha is sitting,

“Harry this is Natasha. Nat it’s Harry.”

“heard a lot about you” Natasha said while he took her hand and he kissed it. Ever the gentleman.

“Nice to meet you mam. Heard only good things I hope.”

You gesture with your eye to Natasha like you’re about to kill her and she gets you. She smiles and nods positively.

“May I take her for few minutes if that’s okay with you?” Harry asks Natasha while looking at you and you get surprised not knowing how the conversation will go after your last meeting took place. She says, “Of course. She’s all yours.” and you roll your eyes. Now’s not the time for this, you eye her. She smiles and you two communicate in a language only you get while Harry’s clueless, waiting for your response.

“Okay,” let’s seat there”, you show him the cocktail bar.

______________________________________________________________

“You look beautiful.”

You smile at his words.

“Thanks Mr. Castillo.”

He rolls his eyes, “ Thought I’d never see you.”

“Me too.” you smile

“How are you doing?”

“I’m doing great. How about you?”

You two then catch up with each other’s life. He came here with his friends. You heard he broke up with Lucy, and you sigh. You really thought they’d be the endgame. You don’t ask why. You don’t talk about Tommy yet. You are sensing he’s going to ask about him. You talk about your new job , new place and time goes by. You look at Natasha and she gives you a wink. She’s having drink and you’re thankful that she’s here.

“ You don’t answer my calls” Harry says and there it is. The conversation you’ve been avoiding.

“I thought I made it clear I wanted to be left alone.”you reply nonchalantly.

“I know what I did was really shitty and I deserve this from you but please will you just give me a chance to explain myself? Just please hear me just this once.”

You scoff. “ what else is there to listen? You belittled me and I bet you found someone the next day for my position. So I don’t see any problem for you. You’re doing just fine.”

“No one can replace you. No one.You were one of my closest friend. It was wrong of me to say that but I was angry and I didn’t know what I was doing. I was messing up for weeks and that day I really crossed the line. So I’m so fucking sorry. I’ve never been more ashamed at the way I treated you.”  harry is pleading with his puppy eyes.

You consider his words and think for minutes as you say your next words.

“I forgave you a long time ago. That’s not the issue harry. It’s the forgetting. I don’t think I can get over that easily. You really hurt me.” A single tear ran through your cheek. But it had to be out of your chest. And Harry wanted nothing but to hug you. He hated himself everyday for what he did, how he made you feel.

“I’m so fucking sorry and I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting that we ruined our friendship. I will make it up to you however long it takes. Please just don’t cut me off. I need you. And to be honest I was going crazy and didn’t know back then but I felt like I was losing you and my anger pushed me to edge.”

“What ?Losing me?” you look at him confused.

“You were staying away from me and felt like we were becoming stranger, on top that, That Tommy………”

“Wait wait wait , I wanted to give you space because you were dating Lucy and  you can’t put it on Tommy and why was Tommy a problem anyway?” you sound defensive.

“He… he stole you from me. I didn’t understand how I felt back then but all of this made me realize, what I felt for you.”

“I…I don’t understand” you look at him confused.

“I love you and I only want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know it’s too late for me to say. I know you’re with Tommy and I lost the chance that day but I need to let this out or I won’t be able to sleep knowing that I didn’t try. And I thought about talking about my feelings but I wasn’t sure I was ready to say.” You absorb everything he says with tears in your eyes, you can’t believe what he’s saying so you let him continue, “ I was scared you’ll get more angry with me if I just sent these in messages since that’s the only way I could reach you. But you are here and I can’t lose this chance. I love you. Been loving you since when I don’t even know.”  You could tell by his expression that he was being genuine.

“Harry… are you serious?” You were baffled hearing all this from him. After years of pining after him, it feels too surreal.

“Lucy and I, when we broke up months ago and she is the one who made me realize when I told her everything. I owed that to her.But I respect whatever you do knowing you’re with Tommy. I just needed to tell you”

“I’m not Not with Tommy. We broke up month after I quit.” You say with your head in your hand. Clearly all he said is too much to process. Is it irony of fate or what?  Harry’s eye widened, “What?”

“Harry I… I wanted you,” taking harry again by surprise,  you think it’s time you let it out,”I always liked you but I didn’t think you felt the same way and all of this is too much to take in. I need some space to think about it.” You are so used to heartbreak that you want to keep your walls up, after everything, you can’t let it crumble.

Harry took the information and stayed silent for minute and looked at you with pleading eyes. He doesn’t know how to react. You were in front of him all this time and he couldn’t see what you two obviously had. He felt sad but he understood and respected your wishes.

“I think I should go.” you bit your lips. You didn’t want to leave but you needed time to think. You need to get away from here.

“Will I see you again?” you hear him say when you start to leave.

“I don’t know,” You give him hug with a sad smile. “Goodbye Harry.”

“Good bye.” harry looks at you with with puppy eyes.

When you get back, Natasha is on her feet, ready to leave, there’s a clear understanding between you two.

You know you were gonna spend the night at Natasha’s.

______________________________________________________________

It’s been two days since that night, since the confessions and you took your time to think. Natasha was screaming you to call back harry. She was supposed to be your side? But she’s a Harry fan now.

“He’s so handsome. If you aren’t taking him I will,” and you give her a push playfully.

“You know what happened” you sigh

“And he apologized. Not everything is fairy tale but you should give him a chance. That man is clearly head over heels for you. The way he was looking at you…..”

“I’m…I’m just so scared,” you say.

She shifts to hug you, “I know but live a little. Give him one chance. Just one.”

“What if that doesn’t work?” you argue.

“Then you’ll have peace knowing you tried with the person you wanted the most.”

You smile at this. She has a point.

“hey harry!”

“Hey. How are you?”

“fine. can i call you?”

The seconds after you send this question you see a call coming from Harry. You pick it up quickly, “Hi” you squeak out.

“I didn’t think I’d hear from you. Are you okay?”

Classic harry, always protective, “yes I’m,” you smile. And there’s a silence. It’s like harry was waiting for you to speak up so you do

“Listen….. I thought about what you said and I want to talk to you, face to face.”

“Jesus! Really?” you could hear the happiness in his voice, “Let’s meet tomorrow, at Beverly’s. Send me your address so I could pick you up.” he says excitedly “Only if you want” he adds.

So you give him the address and talk for an hour before ending the call even if you didn’t want to, because you have work , besides you will have the talk tomorrow. But the whole night butterflies were erupting in your stomach.

______________________________________________________________

Tomorrow arrives and Harry picks you up from your apartment.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you Harry. You look handsome too.” You say almost shyly. This wasn’t something new. You always complimented each other before so why are you suddenly shy?

You arrive at the restaurant and place orders.

“So,” you try to start the conversation “ I thought about what you said and I think I’m willing to give you the chance”

Harry’s face light up at your words, “Thank you a lot. I promise I will make it up to you.” and you nod with a smile.

The night continues. You two chat away and have your meal together. Harry drops you at home when you invite him in.

You make him coffee after entering your house and catch up more, laughing , the time with him feels natural.

You were sitting next to him in sofa while watching something , when you felt his arm around you. You turn to find him already looking at you with soft eyes. Your eyes fell on his full pretty lips and your licked yours. Then the dam breaks. He kisses you and you kiss him back.

The kiss becomes hungry and you two find yourselves naked, you under him, after few minutes. He kisses you as he makes loves to you, slowing pulling orgasms out of you.

“I love you “ harry says. “I love you too harry.” and you feel your orgasm hit again. This is the third one.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum. Where?”

“Inside…please harry inside.”

“Fuck! Are you sure?”

“I’m on the pill. Please harry” you moan

Harry gives a couple deep frantic strokes before falling apart, spilling his seeds inside you. He captures your lip again and you stay like that for minutes before he cleans you and slips inside the blanket beside you. He hugs you that night in his sleep and you never slept so good.

______________________________________________________________

Five years later

This is your third marriage anniversary and it still feels like a dream, straight out of a rom-com movie, a too cliché movie.

“Happy anniversary my love!” Harry hugs you from behind while you were making coffee.

”Happy anniversary and good morning handsome” you kiss his lip.

But you’re happy and content in the arms of the man you love.

______________________________________________________________

THE END

Thanks for reading <3

This was my first ever fic. IDK what came over me to do this. I hope you enjoyed as much as I enjoyed writing this. Harry Castillo, the man that you are.

Taglist: @callmecath1, @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi, @sarah145 , @liciafonseca, @satokane0714, @greta-norrland

[onlydylanobrien]

Dylan O’Brien Used Director James Sweeney’s ‘Gay Scale’ to Play Brothers in ‘Twinless’: He’d Say ‘You Were Too Straight on That’

“I’m egregiously picky,” insists Dylan O’Brien, reflecting on a burst of productivity that, in the last 12 months, includes the films “Ponyboi,” “Saturday Night,” “Caddo Lake,” the Max comedy series “Fantasmas” and James Sweeney’s “Twinless,” which screens at Sundance. “I’m going to get skewered for this type of quote being out there … but I would have a much different career, I think, if I was a ‘yes to everything’ person.”

After launching his career more than a decade ago as a heartthrob on MTV’s “Teen Wolf” and in the “Maze Runner” films, each of those recent projects earned the actor praise for his versatility; no two roles are the same. But according to O’Brien, his recent slate reflects not just one year of work but more than five — a period that also encompasses guest spots (as “himself”) on “Curb Your Enthusiasm” and “The Other Two,” four more features and “All Too Well,” a short film directed by Taylor Swift.

His run of projects actually started back in 2019 after reading “Twinless.” In the film, which earned Sweeney a spot on Variety’s 2025 Directors to Watch, he plays twin brothers Roman and Rocky, with the former bonding with a fellow support group member (played by Sweeney) after the latter dies unexpectedly. Even facing the challenge of dual parts — one is straight, one is gay — the actor says that Sweeney’s writing gave him exactly the kind of charge that tells him to get on board a project.

“When I read something, it’s like I can hear the guy’s voice or I can’t,” O’Brien says. “And from the second I picked up the script, I was just like, ‘Roman is in me.’ I know this guy. And then when I get to Rocky, I had an instinct for him too.”

He remembers that it was his transformation into the introspective Roman, who, like O’Brien, is straight, that most surprised Sweeney. “My Roman voice, I got self-conscious about it immediately because he pointed it out,” he says. “But that’s how I was processing the weight of the very sheltered life he had experienced until that point, and then the tragedy that he experienced — and that’s what the fuck came out. [James] was like, ‘I love it.’”

Meanwhile, in order to play Rocky — authentically, but never stereotypically — O’Brien says the pair implemented a “gay scale” on set that Sweeney (who is gay) would dial up or down. “Most of the time, he’d be like, ‘You were too straight on that,’” he recalls with a laugh. “I was happy for that permission … a sign of a great filmmaker is to always give you the permission to go into a direction or not.”

The believability of both performances — like the others released before it — evidence a centeredness that O’Brien attributes to his increasing capacity for identifying nurturing, creative environments. “By that I mean your filmmaker, the piece in and of itself and the confidence you feel in it,” he says. “A helpful tool to either have or try to develop is to be able to identify whether you’re in safe hands or not.”

Though he admits that being in a music video is a “space that makes me really uncomfortable,” O’Brien indicated that two of those safe hands belonged to Taylor Swift, who in 2021 enlisted him to play the male lead in “All Too Well.” “For that to be her first time directing, Taylor had the absolute right instinct to be like, ‘I hired these actors because I am a fan of the work that they’ve done, and I’m going to let them come in and do that work’,” he says. “I loved what she was trying to tell with that. And I fully felt like I understood my role in it, and that excited me.”

Indicating he’s finally “being able to operate with choice,” the actor says his future plans include a reunion with Sweeney (“James and I are definitely going to partner up again on something”), and the June 27, 2025 release of “Ponyboi,” which first premiered at Sundance in 2024. “I’m very fortunate to be in some kind of position to pick these projects that I feel really drawn to and inspired by — and I have in me,” he says.

“These choices that I’ve been making, that you’ve seen in this past year, identify with what I want to be doing,” O’Brien adds. “It’s not like I don’t identify with my role on ‘Teen Wolf’ or the ‘Maze Runner’ movies. Those were my building blocks. But it doesn’t tell the whole story of who I am as a creative person.”

Source: variety.com

[hexgirl13]

helena

wc: 941

summary: when you feel alone and down, punk is there to pick up the pieces for you

warnings(?): helena is reader's ring name, reader has piercings, cussing, age gap (punk is like 35, reader is around 22-23) mentions of fighting/blood, he calls reader 'kid' a few times, uhh i think that's it?

a/n: ugh cm punk is soo smexy and there's barely anything written abt him 🥀 so i just decided to do it myself. this is set in like, 2014 wwe (peak wrestling era) and yes i did get the title from a mcr song, i just love the name/song too much to not use it

blood trickled down your nose as you limped down the long rampway. cheers of your name filled the large arena, echoing in your ears. you had finally done it. you won the divas championship… but at what cost? being a woman in wrestling wasn’t easy.

hardly anyone ever took you seriously, much less so when you weren't willing to sleep your way to the top. you wanted to really earn it. and in doing so, you had to break a few bones and hearts along the way. in the ring laid paige, the woman who you just beat to earn this title. the same woman who used to be your best friend. the two of you were at the top of the divas division, dominating any and all who tried to challenge the two of you.

deep down, you knew that if you wanted to reach the top, you'd have to overthrow paige. the weight of the title was heavy on your shoulder, but it was nothing compared to the one that was on your heart. before you headed backstage, you took one more look at paige. she was holding the back of her neck, shivering in the corner of the ring. even from this far, though, you noticed the little dip she did with her head. a sign of respect, her silent way of saying that even though she lost, she was proud that she lost to you. a small smile graced your face as you finally walked backstage.

if you thought that the arena was loud, you didn’t expect the cheers that greeted you as soon as you entered. both men and women, from raw and smackdown, began yelling out your name, clapping you on the shoulder, and even a few hugs. you gratefully thanked each and every one of them, slipping away when their attention had turned away from you.

still limping, you moved as fast as you could to get to your changing room. however, you bumped into a fellow raw wrestler, cm punk. he was over a decade older than you, but the two of you were good friends. he was even a mentor of yours in some sort. did you have a slight crush on him? yes. would you ever tell him? fuck no.

the fake smile you had on earlier seemed to brighten up a bit. “hey, punk,” you greeted.

he smirked down at you. “hey, kid. congrats on the win,” he replied, pointing at the divas championship.

“yeah… yeah, thanks,” you said, dropping your head.

he quirked his eyebrow, noticing the almost defeated tone of voice you had. “why you sounding so defeated? this is what you wanted, right? to win?”

you nodded, bringing your gaze back up to his. “of course it is but… it just sucks, i guess. paige was my best friend. my only friend here. now i don't even have her. what’s the point of winning if you have no one to share it with?”

punk listened intently to your words. his eyes focused on your face, watching the way your nose twitched, making your septum piercing glimmer in the light. after you were done talking, he just opened his arms. he didn’t need to say anything for you to practically throw yourself into him. one of his arms wrapped around your waist, while the other pulled the title off of you, setting it down on the ground. he brought his large hand to cradle the back of your head, holding you into his chest.

“i know it's hard, kid. and it fucking sucks. i’ve been wrestling for a long ass time. but… that's just the way of the game, and i know you know that. i’m proud of you, though. i watched you out there and you fought like hell.”

you pulled back a bit, looking up at him. unshed tears brewed in your eyes, but you blinked them away. “you watched me?” you asked.

“hell yeah, i did,” he said, his thumb coming down to swipe away some of the dried blood under your nose. “i’ve never seen you fight like that before. you even used my finishing move.”

you chuckled under your breath. “yeah, i forgot i did that. my bad.”

he shook off your apology. “nah, you did that shit almost perfectly. might need to retire it and give it to you. call it helena’s hooker or some shit.”

a snort escaped you at the name. “dude, that’s a stupid ass finisher name.”

“hey! i never said it was perfect, alright? work in progress,” he retorted, mocking offense. he was glad to see that you were seemingly in a better mood than before.

“no, but, seriously. i’m proud of you. it takes balls to fight the way you did tonight, and you proved to everyone how much you deserve that title.”

you let his words sink in. you did deserve this. after dreaming of being a wrestler since you were a little girl, and wrestling indie since you were 17, you never thought those dreams would come true. but now you did.

“yeah, you're right. i do deserve this.”

his smile widened. “i know that's fucking right. besides, you do have someone to celebrate with, me. you'll always have me.” his words caused butterflies to bloom in your chest, but you tried to ignore them.

“now… what do you say we celebrate by drinking?” he offered.

“oh, hell yeah!” you exclaimed.

he bent down to grab your title, and slung it back over your shoulder. he pulled you into one last hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “that’s my fucking girl.”

[seresinhangmanjake]

Fremen Girl

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Fremen!reader

Summary: The potential wife of any future Baron must prove herself by surviving in the arena before the current Baron will permit the marriage. In this case, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen wants a wife, and he might have just found a woman capable of meeting that challenge.

Notes/Warnings: this is just the first section of this fic, which I can't decide if I want as one long fic (5k words) or multiple short parts (5 or so). If you like it, feel free to provide an opinion on that. Comments help me out and make me happy, so they're always welcome :) Also, Dune inaccuracies and typos.

Words: 900

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

The toe of a boot jams into your calf. Your knees are the first to crack on the tiled flooring of Arrakeen Palace’s throne room. You land with a grunt, followed by four more grunts as the knees of your Fremen brothers are forced down beside you.

That’s all that remains of the troop sent to attack one of the Harkonnen patrol groups. Out of twenty-one, only five. 

The five of you make a neat line in front of the empty throne with you in the middle. From left to right, one after the other reduced to half height, your heads down, arms bound behind your backs, and blood dripping from various Harkonnen-inflicted wounds. 

Your only wound is a swollen, busted lip, which you found curious until you realized their goal was to capture the remaining few of you, not kill. That swift fist to the face had caught you off guard while you were trying to aid a friend who inevitably met their death, and in that moment, you knew you were going to be made an example of; a warning to other Fremen: Be smart. Don’t end up like this girl. 

So, here you are, in a Harkonnen-occupied palace awaiting your grim fate, forced to bow to an old baron you thought was too lazy to leave his home planet of Giedi Prime, let alone bother with a handful of Fremen who made a minuscule dent in his massive army. 

But then you hear footsteps echoing as they make their way through the vast, hollow room. 

“Are these the ones?” is asked in a low, gruff voice. It’s akin to the voices of the men who brought you here, but it contains a unique richness and lacks the worn, overused quality that comes from many decades of aging. Definitely not the Baron.

“Yes, my Lord na-Baron,” one of the brutes answers from behind you, conveniently answering your unasked question as well.

“And which of them did the most damage?” 

Thick fingers dig into your hair, nails scraping your scalp as your head is yanked back. You swallow your whine from the pain and meet a set of deep blue eyes. You know those eyes—well, you know stories of those eyes. As a small child, you overheard whispers amongst the Fremen elders of the Harkonnen boy with the soulless eyes who killed his mother and maimed his family’s slaves. The promising younger nephew of the Baron: Feyd-Rautha. Barely older than yourself and yet word of his deadly glare was already jumping from planet to planet. 

But those eyes change as they look at you. There’s a quick shift from wicked to amused, a glint flitting across his irises as he scans your face. His lips tick upward—almost imperceptibly—but you catch it before it disappears. 

“Release her,” the future baron instructs. The tension from your abused strands eases as he steps forward and crouches in front of you, much too close for your liking. You want to flinch away, but Fremen do not cower to intimidation. 

“So,” he starts, peering into you, “you're the one causing me trouble, hmm?”

“She took down twelve of our men.”

His brow raises and his head tilts, but Feyd-Rautha does not break your stare. “Twelve? Is that right?”

“She bites as well, the fucking bitch,” the soldier grumbles to his leader. When you roll your eyes, said leader's lips quirk again. “Too much spirit in her if you ask me.”

All sense of amusement drains from the na-Baron’s features. Cold blue eyes flick to the soldier, and with the attention momentarily off of you, you take a breath. 

“I did not ask you,” he says in an eerily calm tone. 

You can practically hear the gulp that struggles to make its way down the other Harkonnen’s throat. “Apologies, my Lord.”

Feyd-Rautha returns his gaze to you. He examines you for a few long beats before lifting his hand and swiping his thumb through the blood beginning to cake on your split lip. 

“Don’t touch her!” comes from the left in your native tongue.

You wince. He’s one of the younger ones, just shy of your age. Well-trained enough to be a dangerous force, faster than the older Fremen at your sides, but so full of hatred for Harkonnens that his enthusiasm has him making silly mistakes, clearly not excluding shouting in a threatening tone when it would be best to remain silent. 

The butt of a Harkonnen weapon slams into the back of his head and he falls forward, landing face-first on the floor. 

The na-Baron doesn’t pay the disruption a lick of attention. His index finger meets his thumb and they swirl together in small circles until they’re thoroughly coated in your blood. Then, one at a time, he sticks them into his mouth and sucks that little bit of you off of each pale digit. 

“Lover?” he asks you, nudging his head toward your knocked-out friend. You shake your head.

Leisurely taking in your features, his eyes trace the curl of your lashes, the slope of your nose, then the V of your cupid’s bow before he says, “A woman more deadly than the men who flank her is quite rare...and impressive.” Your brows pinch at the compliment and he smirks. “I think I might have use for you, Fremen girl.”

---

A/N(just a repeat of the notes up top in case you missed it): this is just the first section of this fic, which I can't decide if I want as one long fic (5k words) or multiple short parts (5 or so). If you like it, feel free to provide an opinion on that. Comments help me out and make me happy, so they're always welcome :)

@avidreader73 @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @workof-a-rr-t

[starry-eyedromantics]

Fatal Attraction

Summary: You and Loki shared one night together a month ago and you can’t get away from God-like charm, wanting him more than ever.

Pairing: Loki x reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Rating: Explicit [Minors DO NOT INTERACT]

Warnings: teasing, cussing, oral, dirty smutty filthy Loki thoughts I had stashed away in the drafts

A/n: Hello friends! Wrote this a few weeks ago but wasn’t thrilled with it at first. I revisited it and ended up liking it a lot more🤭 Hope you do too💚

✨

His eyes were piercing into your skin the whole night. You barely touched your food as those cerulean eyes mapped every inch of your body. You didn’t want to give him the light of day. Loki was trouble as usual. It didn’t matter that he was in Thor’s good graces, you didn’t trust him.

You tried to mingle and be engaged in the conversation around you but those eyes kept distracting you. It was beginning to make you annoyed. Why did he feel the need to make this so obvious? You were trying to enjoy your night but he was a needy child that begged for your attention. You weren’t going to give it to him. It was one of the few nights you could just relax and celebrate the peaceful times.

You get up from the table to get some more wine, you never got to enjoy something as decadent as this. You quickly look to see if he’s noticed you leaving but he doesn’t. He was engaged with whatever his brother was saying and didn’t look your way when you stood up. You go to the table with the different decanters and pour some more wine into your cup, slowly taking a sip.

“Are you ignoring me?” You hear his deep, gravelly voice behind you and rings in your ear, making your whole body tingle. He almost sounded like he was smiling when he said that. The fact you knew that without looking at him made you silently curse at yourself.

You don’t even turn around, you take another sip of your wine.

“I’m choosing not to acknowledge your existence, that’s all,” you say unamused.

“So… you’re ignoring me,” he chuckles.

“Oh fuck off Loki, I don’t have time for you. I’m trying to enjoy my evening.”

You start to walk away but you feel his hand wrap around your arm. You whip your head back at him and give him a daring look.

“You better take your hand off of me,” you snap, keeping your voice low.

“Or what? You’ll lose control like last time?” He challenged.

Yes, that’s exactly fucking why!

You could slap him for saying such things to you. It happened once. One time a month ago and you’ve been avoiding him ever since like a deadly plague. You weakly succumbed to his deadly charm and liked the way he made you feel. No, that’s such an awful lie. You loved the way he made you feel. He was dangerous but gentle. Selfish but benevolent. Lustful and yet loving. You couldn’t get enough of how he made you feel. You didn’t know it was possible to feel so much pleasure by just one man.

That feeling wasn’t one you could forget. And you tried, many times. You found yourself trying to push away those memories and drown yourself in another man’s touch and body. But it didn’t work. Each time you found yourself thinking about his hands or the way his cock felt like instead of you instead of whoever you were on top of. It was agonizing. You couldn’t get rid of this man’s hold on you.

“You have two seconds to get away from me or I’m going to get Thor,” you grumble.

“Oh come on now. Don’t get my brother involved in this. I just want to know why you’ve been avoiding me,” he says smoothly.

You shrug his hand off of you and straighten your posture.

“Because I want nothing to do with you. All you do is bring chaos and trouble wherever you go and I want no part of that.”

You can tell by the way he’s looking at you he wants to challenge you, rile you up enough to make you putty in his hands once more. Instead, he just nods his head at you and lightly smiles.

“Yes… I am trouble… and you like that. There’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

He turns away from you not before his eyes drinking in your body and lingering on your lips.

Your heart gallops at that one look. Those eyes could easily make civilizations crumble. It was perilous and made it hard to breathe.

He leaves you alone for the rest of the night as he sits across the table from you at Thor’s side.

I am trouble… and you like that.

Fuck he wasn’t wrong and you hated him for it. You kept hearing his voice in your head over and over saying that to you. You swore it was one of his tricks but no, it was all you reliving that man’s tempting words.

Now you were the one staring at him. He wore his best Asgardian leather that had a glint of gold along his chest and green fabric along the sides of it that completed his signature look. He didn’t wear his normal golden horned helmet tonight and you were sure if he did, you’d be staring even more than you are now. Something about him being in full armor and all made him look cunning and more of a dangerous man. His hair was the most rich, raven-black color that only made his eyes pop more. There was a slight curl to his hair that rested softly just above his shoulders. Even just the sound of his bright, contagious laugh made you miss him… slightly.

As the evening went on, the table started to empty and you wanted to slip away unnoticed. You start to make your way to your chambers and keep thinking about him. He stayed in the same seat he was in all night and you wondered if he would keep his word and leave you alone. A part of you just needed to go to bed. That would clear your head and make you come to your senses. The other part of you wanted him to rile you up and whisper the most naughty things in your ear as you grind on him.

Shit, this is not good, not good at all. The wine probably got to you and made you feed into your worst inhibitions. You rush to your room and close the door behind you. The chilly air in here made you more awake but he still lingered in your mind. You splashed some water on your face too and took some deep breaths. You felt like you were losing it. You swore Loki’s charisma was an infectious drug sometimes. It consumed you and made you want so much more of him. The most mundane and nefarious things made you look at him differently. Times like tonight made you remember why you wanted him in the first place.

A knock on your door makes you jump out of your skin and you quickly pat your face dry. You try to shake all your emotions off so whoever is at the door doesn’t see you scattered like this. You swing the door open and look up into those blue eyes of his.

“Hi.” You say nervously.

He held his breath when he looked at you. He was a lot closer than you anticipated and there was barely any space between you two.

“Hello darling,” he says smoothly, looking down at your lips and lightly licking his bottom lip.

You take a slight step back to give yourself some space and air.

“What is it?” You say shortly.

“I wanted to make sure you got to your chambers alright. I had this weird feeling something was wrong.”

“No, nothing is wrong,” you say a bit too quickly.

His eyebrows furrow and he straightens his posture, like a cobra ready to strike.

He sees right through you.

“You’re lying to me,” he grits through his teeth. You shudder at his tone and feel your body freeze in anticipation.

“No.” You manage to say weakly.

“Then why do you sound like that?” He asks.

You wince at his accusatory tone, but you couldn’t help it. Your throat felt tight and you kept taking short shallow breaths being this close to him.

“I-I-I… I don’t know I-,” you stumble as you can’t form any coherent thoughts around this man. He takes a step forward and pushes his way through the doorway. You step back to let him in and feel his height dominate you. You felt small and fragile next to him in this moment. He shuts the door behind you and you just stare at him unsure what his next move might be.

“I’m tired of your attitude. All you do is ignore me and treat me like I’m a peasant. Do you forget who I am?” He bellows.

“No, I can’t forget who you are Loki,” you quiver.

“Then why must you treat me like this?”

Your mind goes blank and really have no explanation. You chose to show anger and hatred toward him to mask your feelings. That’s all it was. You were trying to deny him and it never worked. You could never forget him and wanted him more than anything.

“I- Loki please forgive me. I just don’t want to admit something to myself and that’s why I’ve been treating you horribly,” you say softly.

He takes a subtle step toward you and stops. His jaw clenches slightly and nods his head.

“And what are you hiding for me then hmm?” He hums.

Don’t make me say it, don’t make me say it.

“You wouldn’t understand-,” you try to explain but he cuts you off.

“Try me,” he snaps, taking another step closer to you.

You swallow harshly, you can barely breathe with him looking at you like this.

“You’ll hate me,” you stall.

He lets out a frustrated groan and smooths his hair back.

“Are you going to just say it or do I need to make you?!” He growls.

Your heart drops to your stomach and can’t deny him anything.

“I want you still, no matter how wrong it is,” you tremble.

He smirks at your confession, liking to hear how you feel about him. You knew he was probably waiting for this exact moment and it couldn’t have come sooner.

“Oh, what’s so wrong about that darling? You act like you’re the first woman to want me,” he says cockily.

“You’re dangerous! You’re deceitful and lie your way through life to get what you want! I should never be with someone like that. And yet… that doesn’t stop me from wanting you.”

“Do you think it’s any easier for me?” He snarls.

“What?” You’re taken aback by his comment.

“You’re a warrior, so far beneath me. I shouldn’t even give you the light of day. You’re always listening to my father’s commands when you should be listening to me.” He looks cunning, so on edge, as he inspects your every last movement.

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and can’t form any words. Your tongue feels like it's in a knot. His hand props your chin on his fingers and makes you look at him. You didn’t want to. You knew if you looked into those blue eyes one more time you were going to be begging him for mercy.

“You should be listening to your king. Your rightful king.” He growls in your ear. You feel his teeth pull at your ear lobe and hear the sound of his disgruntled sigh.

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me hmm? The way I have to pretend to not notice you walking into a room or how I want to sit as close as possible to you without causing a scene.” He explains. “Oh but I’d love to cause a scene, make everyone stop and stare at us.”

Your heart gallops at his confession and the scandalous things he’s insinuated. He was just as weak as you were. He was much better at this game though. He knew how to hide his feelings and not run away from the problem. He ran headfirst for them.

“Loki, we don’t work well together. It was one time. One horrible lapse of judgment and we can’t have it happen again,” you sigh, closing your eyes in defeat. His hand slithers down to your neck, down to the crest of your breast, and stops there, playing with a loose strand of hair. Your eyes flash back open and look into his deadly eyes.

“Now I know that’s the biggest lie of them all. I remember exactly how well we worked together. The way you perfectly wrapped around me…mmm… I couldn’t get enough and neither could you.” He says slyly.

Fuck the memories of that night come flooding back into your mind. It was perfect, every last inch of him. He had you saying things you would have never imagined saying to a man. The pull you felt from him and the fatal attraction had your body like mush. His hands wrap around your waist and pull you flush to his body. You bit your lip softly to hide how good it felt to have him pressed against you again.

“Loki please,” you try to denounce him but it sounds more like a breathy cry for help.

“Yes darling say that again. You have no idea how often I hear your beautiful moans in my head or that sound you make when I fuck you to the brink. It’s felt so long since I’ve had you.” He groans as his hands slide down to your ass and squeezes you tightly, pushing you closer to him so you could feel how hard he’s become.

“Loki, please,” you moan, looking up at him with pleading eyes this time.

You wrap your arms around his neck and reach up on your toes to get closer to him. You could feel your body begging for more, so much more.

There was this look in his eye that you’ve seen before. He gave you this same look last time right before he was going to devour you.

His lips crash into yours with a wild heat and ferocity. His warm mouth commanded you to succumb to him. Every roll of his tongue had you submitting to him. You moan at the feeling of him and groan his name in between kisses. It came out without thinking and you could feel his cock twitch at the mention of his name on your lips. Your hands cling onto him and scratch along the leather on his back. Your hands couldn’t wait to feel the heat of his skin against you.

He begins to walk you backward, not giving you a breath of air in between, and continues to cover you in kisses. The backs of your knees hit the bed and makes you sit down immediately. You look up and see this man before you looking like he could tear you to pieces. You feel your cheeks tinge with heat and it spreads lower and lower until you can feel your core throb at the way he’s looking at you.

Your breath hitches in your throat and it’s a dead giveaway to show him how desperate you are feeling. He reaches his hands out to you and softly pulls the straps of your dress off your shoulders. He bites his lip as he uncovers more of you, unwrapping you like you are his gift. His fingertips dance along your skin as you let your eyes flutter closed. His touch was perfect, so soft when it needed to be yet it commanded your attention.

Your eyes fan open when you feel his fingertips pull down the material even lower and expose your bare breasts to him. You felt on fire when he looked at you like this. It was as though he’d never seen such a beautiful creature in his life. His hands caress your breasts gently and you whine slightly with how good his hands feel on you. You arch your back into his touch, needing so much more. You wanted his mouth and his tongue to worship you as you would do the same to him. Your nipples hardened by his electric touches and he started to toy with them, squeezing them slightly and rolling the hard bud in between his fingers. You gasped at the sensation that shot through your body when he did that. It made you crave more. It made you want to beg for more.

He briefly stops as he drags his hands lower along your hips and down your legs. He sighs to himself as he scrunches up your dress to your waist. He makes this pleased grumble when he discovers you weren’t wearing anything underneath this dress.

“And you said you wanted me to leave you alone tonight? Seems you had other plans, didn’t you my darling,” he teases.

There was no point in hiding it from him. You wanted someone to take care of you tonight, you just didn’t expect it to be him.

“Yes, I wanted something tonight…” He has a smirk on his face as he begins to sink to his knees.

“From me?” He asks coyly.

Your silence was deafening. You didn’t have to say the answer out loud because he already knew. His wicked eyes flash back up at you and his hands squeeze around your thighs.

“Oh, I see. You thought someone could fuck you better than I can?” He says displeased.

Your heart races out of your chest by his domineering tone and that look he has in his eye. Your chest rises and falls sporadically, unable to form any words when he’s looking at you like this.

“Answer. Me,” he bellows.

“No, no one makes me feel as good as you do. I don’t know how I could think otherwise,” you say shakily. You were on the borderline of pleading for him and asking him for forgiveness. You weren’t sure which one he wanted but you were prepared to give him both.

“Good, that’s right. I can give you anything you need and crave. I’ve been dying to give that to you again,” he sighs. You feel your legs tremble and nod your head at him.

“Spread your legs for me,” he says as he settles his body in between your legs and closer to your core. You do as you’re told and open your legs in front of him.

He curses under his breath and pushes his hair back from his face.

“Looking absolutely heavenly darling, all for me?” He asks as you feel a long, deft finger swipe through your dripping folds. You gasp his name and your hips push forward, craving more friction.

“Yes, all for you.” You whimper.

You expect him to say something smart again but the air gets sucked out of your lungs when you feel his perfect mouth eat your throbbing core. He licked and sucked on your clit like he was a wild man starving for it. Your hands gripped at the bed sheets tightly as he ate you with pleasure. Both of your moans fill the small room and the feeling of his mouth groaning against you sends shock waves through your body.

He pauses briefly, looking up at you with his mouth and chin wet from your slick.

“Fuck, I missed the way you taste,” he groans, his tongue gliding along his bottom lip and his eyes slightly rolling back when he tastes you again on his tongue.

You could crumble right here. With his head in between your legs and his tongue coaxing you to fall apart. That’s really all you needed.

“More, please give me more,” you beg.

His lips have a slight smirk on them as he bows his head between your thighs again and proceeds to work your clit like it’s his favorite part of you. Your hips buck into his mouth and help him get you closer to your release. The heat in your belly grew with each swipe of his tongue and as soon as he plunges it into your weeping entrance, you feel yourself become more needy. You couldn’t believe this man was real, the pleasure he was giving you was better than the last time.

He suddenly lifted your legs on top of his shoulders and held them there with a tight, unyielding grasp on your thighs. He groans louder as he devours you and this only pushes you more to the edge. You squeeze your eyes closed and feel the rush of pleasure pour over you. Your muscles tensed and you cried out for him over and over. Your body felt on fire and yet weightless. His tongue buried inside you as your walls ached for more. He loved to tease and wouldn’t stop even with how sensitive you were.

He started to pepper kisses along the insides of your thighs and nip softly at the sensitive flesh.

He began to stand up and looked down at you like he was still hungry, still not done ravaging you.

“Turn around, on your hands and knees for me,” he commands.

The thought nearly killed you and you let out a whiny moan in disapproval.

“I want to see you,” you protest.

“Well darling, this is what happens when you go off and try to get someone else’s cock to please you. You get punished with your face pressed against my sheets.” He says low, as he begins to remove his pants.

Your eyes widen when you look at him. Just the sight of him had you thinking of the most dirty of ways he could fuck you. Soft and gentle or hard and unrelenting. You wanted all of him. There was nothing about this man that was off-putting. You wanted to have every inch of him pleasing you. You watch as his fingers start to remove his tunic and continues to stare daggers at you.

“Don’t make me ask again,” he says sternly.

“Don’t make me turn around. You know I won’t be able to stay quiet.”

He bites the inside of his mouth at that reminder and he pulls you to him and makes you press against his naked body.

“I can take care of that,” he mutters slyly in your ear.

A gust of wind engulfs around you both and a green aura makes the room glow. You hold onto him tighter, not quite sure what he’s doing. You blink and feel the whole world move in a blur. By the time you open your eyes again, you’re in his room. You don’t let go of him and look around in shock. You weren’t mistaken, it was definitely his room. You couldn’t forget what transpired here before. His huge bed took up most of the room and was lit with soft candlelight.

“How did you-,” you begin to ask but know it’s not worth getting the full explanation. Loki’s powers were probably more unknown than you thought. The magic that he possessed was something people couldn’t fathom.

In a quick motion, he lifts the dress off of your body making you stand naked before him.

“Now that we’re in here, you can scream my name as loud as you want.” He says darkly, nipping the crook of your neck, making you yelp.

“Now get on the bed like I told you,” he growls, as he turns you around. His cock pressed against your ass and felt the heat coming off of his body.

You slowly make your way to the bed, crawling on your hands and knees once you’re in the middle of it. You were scared to look behind you and knew you needed to listen to him. The bed dips behind you and feel him come between your legs. He nudges them wider with his thighs to make more room for himself.

Your body violently shudders when you feel his thumb rub circles at your entrance, teasingly and calculated. He knew just how to make you a wet puddle in his hands. You moan helplessly and push your hips back for more. He lets out a little pleased hum when he sees your reaction.

“So starved for it aren’t you darling? Fuck, you’re so nice and wet for me,” he groans, pushing his thumb ever so slightly inside your entrance.

“Yes, I am. Please, I want more of you.” You beg. Your legs trembled as you let your head hang down, fully submitting to him.

He pressed the tip of his length at your entrance and pushed it inside you with a devastating thrust. How could you forget how good he felt or the way he moved those hips. He completely ruined you to let you enjoy another man. No other man compared to him and couldn’t get enough. The searing pleasure rages inside you and gasp at having him again. You were tightly wrapped around him, fluttering around the size of him. He cusses too, moving in long powerful strokes, knowing you can take him like last time. You gasp and groan for breath, feeling like you’re falling off a cliff.

His hand slithers to the front of you and takes his time playing with your hard nipples, creating more of this aching need inside you. He then moves one hand on your hip to steady you and the other one expertly rubs your clit.

“Fuck you feel so good. So warm and tight around me.” He pushes more of his cock inside you and you both groan.

“Yes I know you feel so good,” you cry.

Your hips begin to move just like you remembered, powerful and unrestrained. You couldn’t stand the loss of him. You wanted more and more of him to make you come undone. You decide to look over your shoulder and see how he looks when he’s taking you. Damn it he looked good. His eyebrows furrowed and his mouth was slightly open as he watched his cock sink further into your wet pussy. His eyes meet yours for a moment and they turn dark.

“Such a good girl, taking me so well. You should see the way you look with me splitting you in two,” he groans, thrusting harder and filling you to the hilt. Your jaw drops open and cry his name.

“Fuck, Loki! Fuck!”

He moves faster and his fingers wind your clit like only he can. You can feel your wetness spilling out of you with each thrust he gives you.

“Making such a mess of me, I can’t get enough,” He groans. You let your forehead rest on the bed and let his unrelenting hips ruin you. You don't want him to stop. You wanted him to keep going til he had his fill and made you cum.

The undying heat in your belly roared for release and each thrust brought you closer to the sun. It wasn’t going to take you long, as your hips bucked back into him, and continued to cry for him.

He suddenly pulls out of you with a grunt and flips you onto your back. You hit the soft bed looking up at him and you could pass out of how he looks. He looked like a God, full of dominance and possessiveness when he looked at you. His hair was a mess and slick with sweat around his neck that made it stick there. His cock was covered in your arousal and looked like it was begging for release.

“You said you wanted to look at me, so look what you’ve done.” He groans as he looks down at himself.

“I want you, I want you terribly.”

“Mhmm as you should. You should only want me,” he smirks. His hands go back on your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed. You whimper at how forceful he’s being and can’t get enough of it.

He bends your legs to your chest and plunges his length back inside you. You both groan loudly and your hands scratch at his forearms. He took you raw and animalistic, no time for slow, sweet love. He aimed to show you what you were missing this whole month and you didn’t complain for a second.

You can barely catch your breath as his unrelenting hips claim you as his. The heat inside you was about to burst and he could tell. He bit his lip slightly as he watched you lose every ounce of control you had left.

“Cum for me, then say my name,” he commands, his cock plunging deep inside you and hitting a spot that made you see the heavens.

You whimper at his tone. You don’t want to deny him of anything and nod your head.

“Please Loki, please,” you beg.

He growls at the sound of his name and bucks into you harder.

“Again.” He demands.

You struggle for breath and let out a frustrated groan.

“Loki please!” You cry loudly, not caring who might hear.

One movement of his hips and you’re crying out his name like your saving grace. Your release washes over you and makes your whole body feel on fire. Your core squeezes tightly around his cock, making him cuss loudly too. The flush of pleasure courses through your veins and don’t want him to stop. You leave red marks from your nails all along his forearms as you try to come back down. He tells you how good you feel and that nearly kills you.

His pace doesn’t change for a second and keeps fucking you into the bed. But because of that, you know he’s not far behind either. His breathing was ragged and his hips were becoming more sporadic. He looked like he was drunk on you, not wanting to stop enjoying you.

You knew what would make him fall apart. He told you last time how much he liked watching you do it. You sit up on your forearms as your hand slides along your stomach and finds your throbbing bud. You gasp when you feel how sensitive it is and look up at him innocently. Just as you thought, he was engrossed with what you were doing to yourself. He groaned louder and buried himself deep inside you.

“Fuck yes, gods I love when you do that,” he growls.

“I know, I know. I want to make you cum,” you groan, winding your clit more. Your fingertips graze his length and he makes this sound when you touch him. Oh Gods, that sound makes your core squeeze around again. You keep doing it, Loki unable to hold back his moans. You get a horrible, devious idea in your head. The next time he thrusts out of you, you push at his stomach to slow him. Your hand then wraps around the base of his cock and have the rest of it inside you. He cusses your name loudly and looks at you like he’s going to collapse.

You move your hand back and forth, twisting slightly at the base as his hips moved slow and he groans heavily.

“You naughty little thing. Fucking killing me,” he growls.

“Good, I know that’s how you like me,” you tell him.

He lets his head fall back and you take your hand off of him. He pushes himself deep inside you and feel his cock throb as his release comes out of him. You both cuss at how good it feels as he slowly moves his hips through his orgasm. The sheets underneath you were covered in both of your arousals as he continued to moan for more from you. Your walls fluttered around him with each movement, too overly sensitive from this whole night.

He leans onto his arm and hovers over you, heaving for breath.

“I missed you,” he sighs.

“I know me too.”

“Don’t deny yourself this. If you want me, tell me,” he insisted.

He stays buried inside you and sucks on the tops of your breasts. His mouth made you feel dizzy and intoxicated once again. He kept worshipping you with his mouth, not taking a break from it all. If he kept this up, you were going to be screaming his name once again.

“Ahh what are you trying to do to me?” You whine.

He pauses and looks at you with a devious look on his face. He brushes your hair off your face and smirks.

“Making sure you don’t forget you’re mine.”

[baelabong]

ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ꜰᴜᴇᴅ (ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ, ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ,ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ)

ʜᴇɪʀᴇꜱꜱ!ɢ!ᴘ! ʜᴀᴇᴡᴏɴ x ʜᴇɪʀᴇꜱꜱ!ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Plot: a bunch of rich kids fighting because of generational rivalry

Warnings: g!p, breeding, lowkey manipulative haewon

Wc: 5k

Rq: yes

The air in the boardroom is thick with tension, the silence oppressive. You sit across from Haewon, her icy gaze meeting yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. The contract lies between you, an unspoken challenge.

"Sign it, and we can both walk away from this mess," Haewon says, her voice calm but laced with a cold edge. Her perfectly manicured fingers tap the table impatiently, the only indication that she’s not as composed as she appears.

You narrow your eyes, refusing to be intimidated. "You think this contract will end it all? Our families have been at war for decades, Haewon. A few signatures won't erase the history between us."

She smirks, leaning back in her chair, her posture relaxed yet commanding. "History is written by the victors. And I don’t plan on losing."

Your heart pounds, anger simmering just beneath the surface. For years, you've been groomed to despise her, to see her as the enemy. But sitting here, face-to-face with the woman you’ve heard so much about, there’s a spark of something else—something dangerous and forbidden.

"You’re so sure of yourself," you say, trying to keep your voice steady, though the intensity of her gaze makes it difficult. "But this isn’t just about business, and you know it."

Her expression hardens, the playful smirk disappearing as quickly as it came. "What’s it about then? Revenge? Justice? Or is it just about proving you can beat me?"

Your silence speaks volumes. It’s all of those things and more. But admitting it would give her too much power over you, and you can't afford to let that happen.

"Think about what you’re throwing away," she continues, her tone almost coaxing now. "All for some petty vendetta. We could both walk away from this with our empires intact. No one else has to get hurt."

The sincerity in her voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you wonder if she really means it. But then you remember your father’s stern warning, the weight of responsibility that rests on your shoulders.

"This isn’t just about me," you finally reply, your voice firm. "It’s about my family. About everything they’ve sacrificed to get us here."

"And what about you?" Haewon asks, her voice softer now, almost gentle. "What have you sacrificed?"

The question lingers in the air, heavy with implications. You want to brush it off, to act like it doesn’t matter, but the truth is, you’ve given up more than you care to admit. Your childhood, your freedom, even your chance at happiness—all sacrificed at the altar of family loyalty.

"I don’t have a choice," you say, the words feeling like a confession.

"There’s always a choice," Haewon counters, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

Before you can respond, the door bursts open, and your father storms in, his face red with anger. "What the hell is going on here?" he demands, his voice booming through the room.

You stand up quickly, instinctively moving to his side. "We were just discussing the terms of the contract—"

"Terms?" He cuts you off, glaring at Haewon with barely contained rage. "The only terms are that her family finally pays for what they’ve done."

"Father, please," you start, but he waves you off.

"No more talking," he says, turning his attention back to Haewon. "This ends now."

Haewon stands, her demeanor calm despite the chaos unfolding around her. "Mr. Kim, if you’d just—"

"Save it," your father snaps, his eyes narrowing. "You think you can charm your way out of this? You’re just like your grandfather. A snake."

Haewon’s eyes flash with something dark and dangerous, but she doesn’t respond, choosing instead to meet his gaze with a steely determination.

You can feel the situation spiraling out of control, and for the first time, you’re not sure which side you’re on. The lines between right and wrong, loyalty and betrayal, start to blur.

"Enough!" you shout, your voice ringing out in the tense room. Both your father and Haewon turn to look at you, surprise etched on their faces.

"We’re not going to solve anything by yelling at each other," you continue, your heart pounding in your chest. "If we keep this up, we’ll destroy everything. Our businesses, our families, everything."

Your father’s face softens slightly, but his eyes remain hard. "And what do you suggest?"

You glance at Haewon, a silent understanding passing between you. "Let’s negotiate. But this time, we do it my way."

Haewon’s lips curve into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Agreed."

As you sit back down, the tension in the room doesn’t dissipate, but something shifts. For the first time, you’re not just an adversary. You’re a player in a game where the stakes are higher than ever.

And as you lock eyes with Haewon, you can’t shake the feeling that this is only the beginning.

—------------

The first time you meet Haewon in a professional setting, it’s during a high-stakes negotiation between your two companies.

You sit at the head of the table, trying to project confidence as you go over the proposal. But the air is thick with tension, and you can feel Haewon’s eyes on you, scrutinizing your every move.

"Is that the best your family can offer?" Haewon’s voice cuts through the room, calm but with an underlying sharpness that makes you bristle. Her eyes lock onto yours, and you can’t help but feel a surge of frustration.

You take a deep breath, keeping your composure. "We believe this deal is in the best interest of both parties. A partnership could benefit us both."

Her lips curl into a smirk, a look that’s both infuriating and oddly captivating. "A partnership? How quaint. But I don’t settle for anything less than absolute control."

You can feel the eyes of your team on you, waiting to see how you’ll respond. The pressure is suffocating, but you refuse to let her see you falter. "Control doesn’t always guarantee success, Haewon. Sometimes, collaboration is what’s needed to ensure victory."

She leans in, her voice dropping to a level that only you can hear. "Victory is what I always achieve, darling. Don’t forget that." The way she says “darling” sends a shiver down your spine, a mix of condescension and something else you can’t quite place.

Before you can respond, the meeting ends in a stalemate, and the teams begin to file out of the room. But Haewon lingers, watching you with those unreadable eyes.

As you gather your things, she approaches, her steps deliberate and slow. "This isn’t over," she says, her voice low and smooth. "We’ll see who comes out on top."

You meet her gaze, refusing to back down. "I wouldn’t expect anything less."

She smiles, a small, knowing smile that makes your heart race in a way you’re not prepared to acknowledge. "Good. I like a challenge."

With that, she turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, your mind racing with a mix of anger, frustration, and something more complicated. The confrontation had left you rattled, not just because of her words but because of the way she looked at you—as if she saw something in you that no one else did.

---

The days that follow are filled with tension as both families prepare for the next round of negotiations. However, you can’t shake the feeling of unease that Haewon’s presence seems to have stirred within you. Despite your determination to see her as nothing more than an enemy, there’s something about her that keeps lingering in your mind.

One evening, as you’re going over documents in your office, your father calls you in for a meeting. His expression is stern, his tone serious as he informs you of a new development.

"We’ve been approached by the Oh family," he says, his voice laced with contempt. "They’ve made a proposal—a marriage alliance."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. "A marriage alliance?" you repeat, disbelief coloring your voice.

"Yes," he confirms, his eyes narrowing. "They want to solidify their power by marrying Haewon to a member of our family. And they’ve asked for you."

The room feels like it’s closing in on you. The idea of marrying Haewon, of becoming part of her world, is both terrifying and… strangely compelling.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. "We can’t agree to this. It’s a trap."

"Of course it is," your father agrees, his voice full of disdain. "But they’re desperate. Haewon needs a wife to continue their bloodline, and they see this as their best option."

The realization hits you—Haewon doesn’t just need a partner; she needs a wife to secure her position and fulfill her family’s expectations. The proposal is as much about survival as it is about power.

"And what do you want me to do?" you ask, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you.

"We refuse, obviously," he says, his tone final. "But I need you to be the one to tell them. Make it clear that we won’t be manipulated into some outdated, archaic arrangement."

You nod, though your mind is far from made up. The thought of facing Haewon again, of telling her that you’re rejecting her, fills you with a strange sense of dread. But there’s no other choice—you’ve been given your orders, and you must follow through.

As you leave your father’s office, you can’t help but wonder what Haewon’s reaction will be. And, more disturbingly, you wonder why you care so much.

—-----------------

The ballroom is an opulent display of wealth and status, filled with the crème de la crème of South Korean society. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the room, illuminating the polished marble floors and lavish decorations. The sound of clinking glasses and polite conversation fills the air, but underneath the superficial pleasantries, the tension between your families simmers, threatening to boil over at any moment.

You find yourself seated beside Haewon at one of the long, elegantly set tables. It’s no coincidence—the seating arrangement is strategic, a forced proximity that neither of you can avoid. Haewon is the picture of composure, her tailored suit hugging her figure perfectly, her every movement exuding confidence and control. She greets those around her with a polite smile, but you can sense the underlying tension in her posture.

Your father, seated on your other side, wastes no time in making his feelings known. “I heard your company is struggling to keep up with the new regulations,” he says, his tone casual but his words barbed.

Haewon doesn’t miss a beat, her smile never wavering. “Regulations are an opportunity for innovation,” she replies smoothly, her voice carrying the weight of someone who’s used to winning.

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you listen to the exchange, the thinly veiled hostility cutting through the polite veneer of the dinner. You try to focus on the meal in front of you—a delicate arrangement of courses designed to impress—but it’s impossible to ignore the charged atmosphere.

As the conversation shifts to other topics, Haewon’s hand slips under the table, brushing against your knee. The contact is subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but it sends a shockwave through your body. Your breath catches in your throat as her fingers rest lightly on your leg, the possessiveness in her touch unmistakable.

You shoot her a glance, trying to gauge her intentions, but she’s already turned her attention back to the conversation, responding to another of your father’s pointed remarks with her usual grace. The duality of her actions—cool and composed on the surface, but possessive and demanding beneath—leaves you feeling unsteady.

By the time dessert is served, the tension is almost unbearable. The rich chocolate torte on your plate goes untouched as you struggle to maintain your composure. Haewon’s hand hasn’t moved, her fingers occasionally tightening around your leg, sending shivers up your spine.

Finally, she leans in close, her breath warm against your ear. “Let’s take a walk,” she murmurs, her voice low and insistent.

Your heart races at the suggestion, but you know better than to refuse. With a nod, you quietly excuse yourself from the table, following Haewon out of the ballroom and into the cool night air.

The gardens outside the venue are a stark contrast to the opulence of the ballroom. Here, the air is fresh and crisp, the scent of blooming flowers mingling with the cool breeze. The moon casts a silver light over the neatly trimmed hedges and winding paths, creating an almost magical atmosphere.

You walk in silence for a few moments, the gravel crunching under your feet. The distance from the ballroom feels like a reprieve, but the tension between you and Haewon is still palpable. The facade you both maintained during dinner begins to crumble, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you.

“Why are you doing this?” you finally demand, turning to face her. Your voice is a mix of frustration and something else—something more dangerous, more vulnerable. “You have everything, Haewon. Why can’t you just leave us alone?”

Haewon stops, her gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. “Because, *Y/N*, you’re the only one who ever challenges me,” she says, her voice low and steady. “The only one who doesn’t bow down or cower in fear.”

You open your mouth to retort, but the words die on your lips as she takes a step closer, her presence overwhelming. She’s close enough now that you can feel the warmth of her body, smell the faint scent of her perfume—a mixture of jasmine and something uniquely her.

“I’ve spent my life surrounded by people who want something from me,” she continues, her hand reaching up to cup your jaw, her touch both gentle and commanding. “But you—” she trails off, her thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. “You make me want something I can’t have.”

Her admission hits you like a punch to the gut, the raw honesty in her voice leaving you breathless. For a moment, you’re both suspended in the gravity of her words, the world around you fading into the background.

Before you can respond, she kisses you. The kiss is hard and demanding, a clash of pent-up frustration and longing that neither of you can control. You’re powerless to resist, your anger melting into a desperate need as you kiss her back with equal fervor. Her hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the rapid beat of her heart against your chest, mirroring your own.

You pull away slightly, breathless and dazed, your lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss. Haewon rests her forehead against yours, her breathing heavy as she tries to steady herself.

“Why does it have to be like this?” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions.

“Because we’re on opposite sides,” Haewon replies, her voice barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t change what I feel.”

You’re silent for a moment, the reality of your situation crashing back down on you. “What about our families?” you ask, your voice filled with uncertainty. “What about everything that stands between us?”

You step back, the distance between you suddenly feeling like a chasm. “We can’t,” you say, your voice cracking under the weight of the words. “We can’t do this, Haewon. Our families… they’ll never allow it. And I can’t—I won’t betray them.”

Haewon’s expression falters, the mask of confidence slipping just enough for you to see the pain beneath. “You’re choosing them over us?” she asks, her voice filled with a mix of disbelief and hurt.

“I’m choosing the only life I’ve ever known,” you respond, your heart breaking with every word. “I can’t just walk away from that.”

The silence that follows is suffocating, the weight of your decision hanging heavy between you. Haewon looks at you, her eyes filled with an emotion you can’t bear to face, before she finally nods, her jaw clenched in an effort to maintain her composure.

—--------------

On a rainy evening, you find yourself waiting in a dimly lit café on the outskirts of Seoul. The soft patter of raindrops against the window provides a soothing backdrop to the storm of emotions you’re feeling. You’ve chosen this place for its anonymity, hoping it will shield you both from the prying eyes of your respective families.

As you sip your coffee, the bell above the door jingles, and Haewon steps in, her hair damp from the rain but her expression composed. She scans the room briefly before spotting you and making her way over.

“Hey,” she says, sliding into the seat opposite you, her voice soft but laden with the weight of unspoken words.

“Hey,” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual despite the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. You reach across the table, your fingers brushing hers in a gesture that feels both intimate and illicit.

Haewon’s eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world outside the café seems to disappear. “I’ve missed you,” she says quietly, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

“I’ve missed you too,” you admit, your voice cracking slightly as you struggle to hold back your emotions. “But this—us—it's so complicated.”

“I know,” Haewon says, her gaze dropping to the table. “But I can’t help how I feel. Every moment we’re apart, I keep thinking about what we could have.”

A sigh escapes your lips as you look at her, the conflict within you mirrored in her eyes. “We can’t keep meeting like this, Haewon. What if someone finds out? What if they—”

“I don’t care,” she interrupts, her voice tinged with frustration. “I can’t keep living this double life. I need you to understand that.”

You reach out and take her hand, your thumb brushing over her knuckles in a soothing gesture. “I do understand,” you say softly. “But there’s so much at stake. Our families… everything we’ve worked for.”

“I know,” Haewon replies, her expression pained. “But sometimes, the risk is worth it. Sometimes, what we have is worth fighting for.”

Despite the turmoil, you and Haewon continue to find moments of intimacy, each one a fleeting escape from the reality you both face. One night, after a particularly tense business meeting, you find yourselves alone in a private suite of a high-end hotel. The room is dimly lit, the city lights casting a soft glow through the large windows.

As soon as the door closes behind you, Haewon pulls you into her arms, her lips finding yours in a passionate kiss that speaks of longing and desperation. The kiss deepens as she presses you against the wall, her hands roaming over your body as if trying to make up for all the lost time.

You respond eagerly, your hands threading through her hair, pulling her closer. The intensity of the moment is both exhilarating and overwhelming, the knowledge that this is all you can have adding a bittersweet edge to your desire.

Between kisses, Haewon whispers against your lips, “I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.”

You pull back slightly, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you look into her eyes. “I know. But this can’t go on forever. We’re running out of time.”

Haewon’s eyes are filled with a mixture of longing and frustration. “I don’t care,” she says, her voice shaking slightly. “I just want to be with you, even if it’s only for a little while longer.”

You can’t deny the pull of her words, the depth of your own feelings. “Alright,” you say, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions within you. “We’ll make the most of the time we have.”

As your lips meet again, the world outside fades away. Haewon’s hands move with deliberate tenderness, slowly undressing you both until you’re skin to skin. The heat between you intensifies, and she guides you to the bed, her touch gentle but insistent.

Haewon’s breath hitches as she hovers over you, her eyes searching yours for any hesitation. Seeing none, she leans down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “Please, let me take you.”

Her voice, trembling with need, sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, your consent unspoken but clear in the way your body arches into hers.

Her voice, trembling with need, sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, your consent unspoken but clear in the way your body arches into hers.

With a tenderness that contrasts the urgency in her movements, Haewon enters you slowly but deliberately. The sensation draws a soft whimper from her, and she pauses, as if savoring the moment. “You feel so perfect,” she murmurs, her forehead resting against yours.

You close your eyes, losing yourself in the rhythm she sets, in the way she moves inside you with a mixture of reverence and desperation. The guilt and turmoil that await you both outside this room momentarily fade as you surrender to the intimacy you share, each touch, each kiss, a silent promise to make the most of the time you have left.

As you cling to her, your fingers digging into her back, leaving long red marks, making Haewon hiss.

Haewon’s restraint begins to crumble as her need overtakes her. She starts moving faster, her breath hot against your neck as she presses deeper into you. The intensity of her movements pulls a moan from your lips, one that only seems to drive her wilder.

“God, you feel so good,” Haewon groans, her voice rough and desperate. She leans in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. “I’m gonna fill you up,” she whispers, the words cutting through the haze of pleasure enveloping you both.

Her thrusts become more frantic, her hips snapping against yours with a force that leaves you breathless. The bed creaks under the weight of your shared desire, the sound mixing with the ragged breaths and moans that fill the room.

“Make sure that a new bloodline is secure for my family,” Haewon murmurs, the words spilling out between gasps. There’s an edge to her voice, a mix of urgency and something darker that sends a thrill down your spine. “I’ll make sure of it… make sure you’re full of me.”

The intensity of her words and the way she’s taking you, claiming you, sends you spiraling. You cling to her, your nails digging into her back as the pleasure mounts, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

“Haewon,” you manage to gasp out, your voice trembling as the sensation overwhelms you.

“Say my name,” she demands, her pace quickening even more. Her teeth graze your collarbone, her breath hot against your skin. “Let everyone know who you belong to.”

“Haewon,” you cry out again, louder this time, your back arching as she pushes you closer to the brink.

“I’m close,” she growls, her movements growing almost frantic. “I’m so close… I want to feel you come around me. Now.”

The command in her voice, the raw desire and possession, sends you over the edge. You cry out, your body tensing as pleasure crashes through you, and Haewon follows seconds later, her hips jerking against yours as she groans your name, filling you just as she promised.

For a moment, the world is nothing but the sensation of her inside you, the sound of her ragged breaths mixing with yours. Slowly, the frenzy of the moment ebbs, leaving you both trembling and breathless.

Haewon collapses beside you, her arms still wrapped around you tightly, as if afraid to let you go. Her face is buried in your neck, and you can feel her heartbeat slowing against your chest.

You’re both silent for a long time, the only sound the soft rustling of the sheets as you cling to each other, the reality of your situation creeping back in. But for now, neither of you moves, unwilling to let the moment end.

“Thank you,” Haewon whispers finally, her voice soft, almost broken. “For this… for being mine, even if it’s only for now.”

You don’t respond, instead, you hold her tighter.

—--------------------------

One evening, after a particularly brutal encounter at another business meeting, you meet Haewon in a secluded location—a luxury hotel room you’ve both come to use as your hideaway. The moment you walk in, the tension is already suffocating, your emotions swirling in a chaotic storm you can no longer contain.

“You were ruthless today,” you accuse, pacing the room with a fury that’s been building for months. “You knew exactly what that deal meant to my family, and you tore it apart like it was nothing. You don’t care about anyone but yourself, do you? It’s always about what Haewon wants, what Haewon needs!”

Haewon stands by the window, her gaze cold and impassive as she watches you. “I did what I had to. Just like you would have,” she responds, her voice devoid of emotion, as if your anger means nothing to her.

“That’s it?” you scoff, feeling your blood boil. “After everything we’ve done, everything I’ve given up for you, this is how you treat me? I showed you how committed I was to you last night, Haewon! I gave you everything, and this is what you do in return? You destroy what’s left of my family’s business without a second thought?”

Her indifference is like a slap in the face, and it ignites something feral inside you. “You’re heartless,” you spit, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and hurt. “You use people, discard them when they’re no longer useful to you, and now you’re doing it to me.”

Haewon doesn’t flinch at your words. Instead, a smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth, as if she’s amused by your outburst. “You knew what this was from the start,” she says, taking a step toward you. “You knew exactly who I am.”

Her calm, almost mocking tone drives you over the edge. “I hate you,” you snarl, but the words are hollow, your body betraying you as she approaches.

Before you can protest further, Haewon’s lips crash against yours, her kiss rough and possessive, leaving no room for resistance. Her hands grip your hips, and in one swift motion, she pushes you onto the bed. The intensity in her eyes as she hovers over you sends a thrill down your spine, your anger morphing into something darker, something primal.

“Don’t pretend you’re any different,” she hisses against your lips, her breath hot and sharp. “You’re just like me, willing to do whatever it takes to get what you want.”

You try to hold on to your anger, but it slips away with every touch, every rough caress. As Haewon tears at your clothes, her hands moving over your body with a mix of brutality and familiarity, you find yourself wanting more, craving the way she dominates you, the way she makes you forget everything else.

Haewon enters you without warning, the suddenness of it pulling a cry from your lips. She moves with a brutal kind of passion, each thrust harder than the last, her pace unrelenting. You cling to her, your nails digging into her back as you curse her, your words a mix of anger and desperation.

“I hate you,” you gasp, pulling her closer, wanting her deeper despite the venom in your words. Her big dick hitting all the good spots in you as you continue “You’re a selfish, manipulative—”

But your words are cut off by a moan as Haewon slams into you harder, her lips curling into a dark smile. “Keep talking,” she taunts, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “I love it when you curse me while I’m fucking you.”

The contradiction of your anger and the pleasure she’s forcing out of you leaves you dizzy, lost in the overwhelming sensations. You can’t hold back the moans that escape your lips, the way your body arches into hers, needing more, craving the way she’s taking you, claiming you.

Haewon’s laughter echoes in your ears, dark and full of control. “You can’t resist me,” she says, her tone triumphant. “No matter how much you fight it, you always come back to me. You love this, don’t you? You love how I fuck you, how I make you forget everything else.”

You squirt out while clenching as hard as you can on Haewon “shit shit shit shit, keep clenching on me. Ive only fu-fuck fucked you once yet your trying so hard to milk me dry”

“Do you want my babies that bad?”, Haewon snickers

And in that moment, it’s true. The anger, the accusations, they all fade away as you’re consumed by the way Haewon pounds into you, her movements rough and unforgiving, but exactly what you need. You cling to her, pulling her closer, as if she’s the only thing anchoring you in this twisted reality.

“I hate you,” you whisper one last time, but the words are empty, meaningless as you surrender completely to her, lost in the intensity of her touch, her dominance.

“You’re mine,” Haewon growls, her pace quickening, her thrusts becoming more frantic, more desperate. “You’ll always be mine.”

And as she pushes you over the edge, taking you with a force that leaves you breathless, you realize that you don’t care. Haewon shudders, emptying herself in you, not pulling out.

“Can I please stay in you?”, she whispers against your shoulder as you nod.

Carrying you as you wrap your legs around her waist, her cock still in you, making you moan as she brought you two to the bed, kissing you. The toxicity of your relationship is forgotten in the haze of pleasure, in the way she makes you feel alive, wanted, and completely hers.

In the end, all you can think about is how much you love this, how much you love her, even as she destroys everything around you.

[qqueenofhades]

The 2025 project seems to reflect that the Republican Party is becoming more and more fascism, but it actually reflects the growing number of extreme nationalists, misogynists, and racists among ordinary Americans. US is a democracy, and politicians rely on votes to stay in power. The fact that the Republicans dare to draft such a project shows that they are confident it will gain significant public support. Politicians aren’t fools; they wouldn’t pursue something that only a small group agrees with while the majority opposes it. The global rightward shift is evident, and though I’m not American, my country is also deteriorating in many ways. Why is this happening? Because the economic base determines the superstructure?and in recent years, the global economy has been in decline?

Mmmm, I'm gonna have to challenge you here.

First of all, it's just flatly not true that there's a "growing number of extreme nationalists, misogynists, and racists among ordinary Americans." That movement has become more vocal and visible in post-2016 America, but there's absolutely no evidence -- and indeed, a lot of evidence to the contrary -- that their numbers are growing instead of shrinking. The Republicans got lucky with Trump's win in 2016 thanks to a combination of decades of anti-Hillary smears, extensive Russian interference/psyops, the anti-democratic Electoral College, and general misplaced complacence that he was never going to win and people didn't need to bother voting for two disliked candidates. They've flatly lost every competitive nationwide election since then -- 2018, 2020, 2022, and very probably 2024. In between, their hand-picked Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade (guaranteeing the right to an abortion in all 50 states) and set off a titanic tidal wave of voter support for abortion rights, even in very dark red states like Kansas and Kentucky (which are not liberal by any stretch of the word). In fact, the Republicans' (flatly false) excuse that they just wanted to "return [abortion rights to the states]" has been unveiled as another lie due to their desperate attempts in this election cycle to ratfuck voter-approved abortion questions off the ballot in Arkansas, Missouri, Florida, and elsewhere. This is a badly losing issue for them, even in deep red states, and they don't want people to vote on it, because they hate democracy. We'll get to that.

Likewise, polls of "culture war" issues like LGBTQ+ rights, abortion rights, immigrants' rights, etc., consistently get much more support among ordinary Americans than not. The ordinary public is becoming more liberal, not less, even in the face of constant aggressive and reactionary attempts to undo the sum total of social and civil rights movements from the 20th century. Republicans' views are getting less popular, not more, and this is also driven by the ongoing demographic change in America. Within a generation or two, whites may be in the statistical minority, and that deeply terrifies people whose entire political and social identity is built on ethnostate white supremacism. The reason Republicans are getting so extreme and antidemocratic now is because the electorate is getting younger and younger, more diverse, more accepting, and less tolerant of their age-old bullshit. As such, there is a very visible window of time outside which the Republicans will not be able to win competitive nationwide elections, even despite all the advantages they're building into the system and have always had. That terrifies them. It is also why they have decided to destroy democracy.

Which leads us into your next assertion that "US is a democracy, and politicians rely on votes to stay in power. The fact that the Republicans dare to draft such a project shows that they are confident it will gain significant public support. Politicians aren’t fools; they wouldn’t pursue something that only a small group agrees with while the majority opposes it." Yes, maybe, in some exceedingly generic logic that doesn't take any account of the actual situation in the US and the fact that the Republicans have made their hatred for democratic free and fair elections very, very clear. This is why Trump pushed the "election fraud" Big Lie in 2020 and sent a mob to attack the Capitol in an attempt to prevent the certification of Biden's win. This is why states controlled by Republicans have frantically enacted as many voter suppression and voter-removal laws as possible and conducted constant purges to get voters (especially the mysteriously missing 1 million Democrats in Florida) off the rolls. This is why they talk approvingly about Trump being "a dictator on day one." This is why they have pursued a decades-long strategy to capture the federal judiciary (by installing extreme right-wing hacks to the bench and then funneling extreme-right legislation into their courts to get a favorable ruling and/or send it to the extreme-right Supreme Court). And on, and on, and on. The Republicans are explicitly aware that their ideas cannot win in a free and fair election, because their ideas are terrible, and as such have been taking massive, ongoing, and coordinated efforts to disenfranchise American voters, expose them to lakes of sordid Russian propaganda/psyops in favor of Trump, double down on the xenophobia and white nationalism to stoke Fear Of The Other, and everything else they possibly can to prevent voters from voting for their opponents. They hate democracy and they are not counting on democratic methods to implement Project 2025. They intend to do it by secretive oligarch methods funded by right-wing billionaire dark money and their Russian friends. That's the whole point.

Indeed, you can see that in the fact that as soon as Project 2025 became widely known and therefore widely hated, the Republicans were thrown into a panicked fluster of disavowing it and insisting that Trump didn't actually know about it (which is a lie, but that's all the day). Because it is electoral kryptonite, they are trying every single method they can to lie to voters long enough to get into power and do it anyway. Authoritarians can often come to power through democratic elections, but once there, they do their utmost to degrade, erode, or otherwise destroy the institutional safeguards that prevent them from keeping power forever. Trump is a literally textbook example of this and he has made his intentions very clear. He flat-out told a group of Republicans at an event earlier this year that "we'll fix it so you won't have to vote again." He already tried a coup and somehow the Republicans nominated him again, because of the deep corruption of the party on every level, but the Republicans are not doing Project 2025 because they think it will organically generate popular support (and they know it doesn't.) It's a blueprint for a tiny group of extreme right-wing theocrats and fascists to get their way regardless of what the broader public says about it, and represents the culmination of decades of far-right power-play strategies related to exploiting economic, racial, social, and cultural grievances. They're doing this now in order to lock in their power before long-term demographic changes make it impossible for them to win another democratic American election. So their solution is to get rid of democratic American elections, the end. This is explicitly a project for permanent minority rule. They know that and that's what's driving their strategic choices here.

As such, essentially saying that the Republicans aren't really fascist, and/or the real problem and/or are just giving an increasingly fascist American population what they want, removes any moral responsibility for their deliberate choices and legitimizes the populist claim to be acting "for the people" instead of a corrupt institutional system. Everyone knows the many, MANY problems with American politics and government; we don't need to go through them again. But even if they were "just giving the people what they want," which as noted above they're not, it still wouldn't make it okay or defensible. To use the obvious example, just because Hitler was popular and democratically elected in 1933 doesn't make what he did right, and the social forces that propelled him to power weren't just a passive "reflection" of The People's Will but were shaped by the larger fascist-curious interwar 1930s. In fact, America also had a burgeoning fascist movement in the 1930s, driven by WWI and Great Depression fallout, but Franklin D. Roosevelt's New Deal explicitly created extensive government mechanisms to support society, provide new jobs and welfare, and other integrative and restorative economic methods. This crucial difference in approaches -- the New Deal vs. the Nazis -- is why America remained democratic despite the challenges and Germany fell into autocratic genocidal fascism.

This is because populism and dissatisfaction with democracy rises when people feel that the government is not listening to them, is not responsive to their needs, is ignoring them, or otherwise not doing what they want. It is driven by multiple factors, primarily but not only economic, and it is stoked by powerful interest groups who have a vested interest in using the fissures to discredit democratic governments and movements. It is also by no means limited to America, as you note at the end. Think of the decades-long campaign by the British media against the EU, driven by British isolationism and exceptionalism and a sense that the petty bureaucrats in Brussels had no right to be telling the almighty British Empire what to do. This created and stoked existing social grievances which were often domestically caused (since as Margaret Thatcher destroying the British social-welfare state in the 1980s) and turned that grievance against an external opponent who was easier to blame. As such, as we know, it led to the country voting for Brexit in 2016 despite what a whopping, overwhelming, incredible own goal that was and continues to be for the UK, especially economically and socially. It was obviously dependent on many contextual factors from British history, politics, and culture, and there were certainly many people who actually thought it was the right thing to do (and not just about racism, which uh, hmmm), but it's very difficult to think that this organically or naturally came about without a direct and extensive popular-pressure campaign designed to do just that.

People often vote against their own interests because they have been convinced that democracy is corrupt or ineffective or "just as bad" as authoritarianism, which allows illiberal populists to rise to power. These populists often use racial, religious, or cultural grievances, especially against perceived "outsiders," to artificially stoke existing prejudice and justify crackdowns and/or consolidations of their own personal power and destruction of institutional systems and safeguards meant to stop them from doing that. That's how we got Erdogan in Turkey, Bolsonaro in Brazil, Orban in Hungary, and Trump in the US. Other authoritarian movements around the world are also driven implicitly or explicitly by the massive autocratic and antidemocratic global influence disinformation machine headed by Putin in Russia. As such, it's not accurate to insist that this just represents a simple passive "rightward shift" among the global population overall. It is happening because it has been designed and manipulated and pressed into happening. It can still be electorally resisted, which is also the most effective strategy for removing authoritarians, but if we fail to vote out Trump once and for all in 2024, it will be MUCH harder and much more deadly.

Overall, to simplistically claim that the Republican party is just giving the increasingly fascist Americans what they want and expect it to derive broad popular support is, as I have demonstrated above, a diametrically backward conception of the problem. The Republicans are deliberately and increasingly fascist because they realize that very soon, if allowed to continue operating in its accustomed fashion, the American democratic system and American public opinion is going to make them obsolete. They're racing the clock to cement permanent super-minority rule, and to change the rules overall, before America's shifting demographic composition and ideological mindset locks them out. That is why they are throwing so much misinformation, fearmongering, lies, Russian propaganda, and everything else that they can think of at this election, to get Trump and loyal Project 2025 footsoldier Vance into the door before the door slams shut for a long time. That is why this election is so fucking existentially important and why it is so crucial to accurately conceptualize and describe the problem, what it is, and how to respond to it. As such, while I otherwise don't do this much anymore because I no longer have the desire to argue with the people who are likewise brainwashed in the opposite direction and insist it's a Pure Leftist Moral Duty not to vote against fascist authoritarianism (as, uh, also happened with the fragmented and infighting German left-wing opposition in 1932 and good thing nothing bad happened next):

The end.