#(not feeling god's presence at all) Man ... what the hell am i doing here..

[kaeyapilled]

kid kaeya sitting quietly on a pew during mass in the favonius church feeling so distinctly alienated from everyone else in there that it borders on despairing

[digitald0rk]

ANIMAL ATTRACTION

𓏵𓏵 DON'T LET HER GET AWAY ! mark grayson ( invincible ) x fem reader ( catwoman ) synopsis : in which mark tries to put a kitty back in her cage. warnings ⤻ swearing, suggestive content, you are a tease <3 mentions of blood, sexual tension, grinding? no actual smut. w.c : 3.5k. notes — mark's still a rookie hero ++ new to the GDA so yeah :3 he's trying his best! not to let his hormones control him. title is indeed a swr reference.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ taglist ! @vm4879bb-blog @fairii-majii @hihowyoudoin00 @rayaaa4444 @wadehowl3tt @luvvcharxo @lacesoflove @urmyvalentine1 @sweetb3rry

this wasn't how it was supposed to go.

the plan was simple: retrieve the stolen jewels from the infamous thief and then take care of said thief.

so why the hell is he just staring at you from the shadows as you toy with one of the shiny red rubies, holding it up and watching as the moonlight reflects off it prettily.

“mark,” cecil's voice rings in the half viltrumite’s ear, “are you there? can you hear me kid?”

“huh? i mean yeah, yeah i’m here.”

“you catch the thief yet?”

“uh no but i’m getting to it”

liar, it's been twenty minutes, he could easily overpower you — but he hasn't, yet.

“i’ll talk to you when i’m done okay? don't want her getting suspicious or something.”

“you know i can see you, right?”

oh fuck.

a nervous chuckle escaped his lips at that, he floats closer to you sitting on the roof — all clad in that leather body suit that makes him feel lightheaded and that damn smile, you know what you're doing, there's no way you don't know the effect you have on him. he rips his gaze away from your thighs, taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

“what you did was not very nice,” he says dumbly, his voice cracks slightly at the end and he wishes the ground would swallow him.

“oh i'm well aware invinciboy.” holy shit are you teasing him? you're still playing around with the gem in your hand, it's like you're not scared or even slightly fazed by his presence, he's not sure how to feel about that.

“ah, so you know who i am?” he huffs a little proudy, “you know stealing is a crime right?” he asks, again a very dumb question but his brain is a little fried right now especially with the way you're looking at him like that.

“i’m gonna have to take you with me,” he manages to say.

“a man who knows what he wants,” you put the ruby back in the sack full of other similar precious jewels and walk closer to him, hand pressed against his chest as you lean over to whisper in his ear, “i like that.”

he's going to die.

his heart jumps at the action — beating way too fast, it's almost painful, he's sure you can hear it too.

“listen lady, you're coming with me,” he says weakly, stepping away a little and trying to put some distance between you two for his own sanity, god you smell good.

“go on and try, pretty boy,” you challenge him, holding his gaze as you step away too — you sound a little too confident, too sure of yourself.

he'll just have to put you in your place.

or maybe he won't, he feels dizzy all of a sudden before his head starts pounding and eyes start getting heavy, he groans at the pain.

and just like that, you're swinging the sack over your shoulder and getting ready to run away, looking back at him through your mask, the wind making your suit's tail sway.

“wait,” he pathetically calls out, his body feels weak — what on earth have you done to him?

you throw his way the now empty small dart, with a pointy needle attached at one end, that you stabbed him with, which was probably filled with some sort of drug or worse poison, he assumes. so that beating of his heart wasn't that painful for no reason, you had stabbed him huh? he should've been more careful — shouldn't have underestimated you.

he tries reaching for you again but his knees give out, making him fall onto the cold rough floor of the building's rooftop, he grunts and looks up at you as he tries to keep his eyes open.

and you have the audacity to blow him a kiss playfully, “we'll meet again invincible,” you even send his way a wink for good measure before you make your escape, effortlessly moving to jump from one rooftop to another, landing precisely each time.

mark reluctantly falls into a slumber, hearing cecil’s worried voice as his eyes shut down.

he feels groggy and disoriented when he wakes up in the all too familiar GDA patient rooms.

“about time,” cecil’s voice makes him sit up a little bit straighter as he tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“how long was i out for?”

“almost six hours.”

it was supposed to be a simple job, in fact he only took it because he needed a break from all the intense, hard hitting, leaving-him-with-severe-injuries missions. he knows cecil is disappointed — heck, he's disappointed with himself too.

“get some rest kid, i’ll send someone else to take care of her.”

“no let me, let me fix my mistake, let me go after her again,” mark says without thinking. it's his job to stop crime, he'll do it no matter what  — is it also an excuse to see you? maybe. 

cecil sighs, “fine. but you better get that damn cat in her cage. and don't hold back this time.”

he's going to see you again. 

“why are you smiling?”

“i’m not!”

“give me that bag right now,” mark demands.

the GDA was able to track you down easily — or maybe that's what you wanted, as donald had suggested earlier.

now here he is, standing in front of you in your little hideout, the bag of precious gems behind you as you guard them with a charming smile.

“i don't appreciate your tone, sweetheart.”

“well i don't appreciate you stabbing me with a sleeping drug either.”

“heard you superheros don't get enough sleep, i’m just trying to look out for my favorite one, love.”

you're messing with him — it's working, the thought of him being your favorite in any kind of sense makes his cheeks heat up.

“don't make me use force, cat,” he threatens, walking closer. except you don't back down, you never do and it annoys him deeply. he takes a hold of your neck and pins you to the wall behind with a loud thud, the sack worth probably millions momentarily forgotten — his eyes trained on you as if he's waiting for you to validate him, his strength.

“choking? well that's certainly kinky.”

“what?” he stammers out, he knows you're enjoying this — his cheeks are flushed from both the proximity and your words.

“you heard me,” you smile up at him like he can't just crush your bones in a second of he wanted to, “didn't take you for such a bold one,” you muse aloud, nails lightly raking against his suit from his neck down to his chest, the action sending a shiver down his spine that settles low in his gut, a familiar heat starting to bloom down there.

“you're coming with me,” his voice is rough as he turns you around so your front is pressed against the cold wall and he pins your hands behind your back with one hand while the other rests on the back of your neck.

his eyes not so subtly take in the view — the leather of the black suit clings to your body deliciously, the slight arch of your back and the way the fabric stretches across your thighs and ass has his breathing hitching.

“enjoying the view back there invinciboy?” you sway your hips side to side as if to taunt him which makes him huff, the sound annoyed but undeniably laced with some sort of fondness.

“you're so annoying,” he whispers into your ear — just like you did before you decided to drug him and knock him out.

mark presses himself against your body almost unconsciously, gulping when he feels the swell of your ass rub against his very obvious hard problem.

“is that a gun or are you just excited to see me?”

“shut up,” he mutters, embarrassed but still wishing you'd continue to grind back on him to offer him some sort of relief — relief which he hasn't been able to get ever since your first meeting.

“well then maybe you should put my mouth to good use.”

excuse me? his mouth goes dry at your comment.

and for a moment his teenage hormone driven brain even considers the very obvious inappropriate insinuation before he snaps out of it at cecil’s voice.

the bag.

mark drags you with him, manhandling you — something which you look a little too happy with but he doesn't comment on it, instead he grabs the bag with his free hand that's not restricting your arms but it feels suspiciously light.

so he empties out its contents carefully and lo and behold, it's only filled with a handful of gemstones — the bottom is filled with cotton and other trash of no use.

he glares at you, scoffing when you only playfully bat your eyelashes at him, feigning innocence.

“where's the rest of them?”

“maybe they turned into wool?” you shrug and his eye twitches.

“don't play dumb with me cat, where are they?” his patience is running thin.

“fineeee, they're in the vault down there, under the desk.”

he's still wary of you — for good reason, but he knows he can stop you if you try to run away and plus his main priority is those stupid gems so he lets you go, moving to locate the said vault.

he manages to find it, entering the passcode you gave him and opens the metal vault.

mark immediately gets hit in the face with some sort of gas can which leaves him coughing and wheezing, the purple colored gas leaking and making it hard to see, even his eyes start watering a bit as he tries to find where you are.

you yelp when he ends up yanking your tail, dragging you right to him and where the fuck did you get that mask? of course you planned everything till the end, you always do.

he's about to catch you, once and for all but you catch him off guard, pulling the dirtiest, most unfair trick in the book, a kick right to his family jewels. ouch.

he winces loudly and stumbles back a little, the purple haze only getting more dense as the seconds tick by making it even harder to see, he can make out the faint sound of your pretty voice through the gas mask, “sorry!” yeah right, you don't sound sorry at all.

his eyes feel heavy, not this again — does this woman have a thing for knocking people out or something? mark thinks as his consciousness starts to fade out, the sound of your footsteps fading away as well.

and just like that you've slipped through his fingers. again.

he'll catch you, just you wait.

he wakes up after god knows how many hours, why the fuck is he all tied up with a mirror in front of him — he groans in frustration when he comes to the conclusion it's probably your doing.

i mean who else would draw cat whiskers and a dot on his nose and leave him tied up in the same spot he was once again outsmarted by you — it is humiliating and he is definitely not turned on by the idea of you tying him up to do something else. nope. no.

oh right there's cecil, clearly not amused.

“mark.”

the younger man sighs, he knows he's in for it.

much to his surprise, the stolen jewels — half of them, were found in the same bag behind some important political building which mark would know of if he did actually pay attention in class and wasn't busy day dreaming about catching you, chasing after you — the thrill of it all is something he craves.

he knows you steal from the rich, but it's still a crime. 

so when he catches you in the act of seemingly stealing another thing, in broad daylight this time, that honestly he could care less about, he wastes no time flying over and grabbing your tail — okay, he may or may not have a thing for pulling on it.

“cat.” he tackles you to the ground, palms sweaty at how close you two are— which to his amusement you look very happy about, being underneath him like this. it's almost as if you planned this too.

your bodies pressed together has him acting up, a soft almost imperceptible sound leaving his mouth. the softness of your chest against his, your nails lightly raking up and down his arms, he feels himself getting worked up.

“invincible.” you smile up at him like you can see right through him, like you know how red his face is beneath that mask.

“come on, just hand over whatever you've stolen.” he grunts when you swiftly move to roll over with him, he's now under you.

“you mean your heart? oh sweet boy it's right there,” your place your palm flat against his erratically beating heart, “although it seems like it will jump out any second,” you chuckle, those annoyingly alluring eyes staring right into his soul.

“stop that.” he says weakly even though his hands move to settle on your hips, his mind already going a mile a minute as he takes in the position you two find yourself in.

“stop what?” you shift slightly on top of him, sitting up and he pathetically chases the friction of your leather clad body rubbing against his bulge, a small sound escaping his lips much to his horror.

“looking at me like that.” it makes his skin feel like it's on fire.

wait, no why are you getting up?  goddamnit it no!

mark can't help but gasp when your heeled foot rests on his chest, the heel slightly digging into his suit, the pressure is delicious and so is the view — you standing over him, looking down at him like that, like you'll eat him alive, he's not sure how his heart hasn't given out yet. if omniman finds out about this he's sure his father would never look at him the same.

and then you drag the heel down, from his chest down to his needy aching clothed cock and gently apply more pressure by shifting more of your weight onto it and he moans so prettily — a familiar throb settles between your legs.

he desperately bucks his hips up, but you pull away completely, leaving him flushed and panting oh so horny.

“you're evil,” he frowns up at you, reaching to tug on your suit's tail, holding back a chuckle at your little gasp as you lose your balance.

“you seem to enjoy it.” you're not wrong.

you throw his way the small pouch you stole before jumping down to make your escape like you always do, leaving him needy, conflicted and confused each time.

he sighs as he undoes the strings closing the pouch to open it, curious to see what you'd given up on so easily.

his jaw practically falls to the floor.

you fucking tease.

it's a pair of panties — your panties, a small note falls out of the pouch too, “have fun sweetheart,” it says, as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

he should've known, those wide eyes of yours as he caught you “stealing” were just for show.

he resists the urge to just relieve himself right then and there, hands toying with the soft fabric of the material in his hand, mouth going dry as he rubs his thumb across the gusset, mind going into overdrive.

god, does this mean you know that he's a pervert and touches himself to the thought of you?

he needs a cold shower.

with the way everything is going in the superhero business, mark decides to quit GDA to clear things up and just help people without cecil barking orders at him.

it definitely has nothing to do with the fact that cecil had to witness you two being horny bastards, grinding on each other because holy shit did you look good with blood on you.

mark blamed it on some villain's “sex pollen” afterwards, both cecil and him knowing it's a damn lie.

yeah no, he's going to stay away from cecil for a bit, that was embarrassing — although he has zero regrets.

“sorry for you know . . . kicking your balls and making you lose your job.”

you say it so casually like you didn't just once again somehow manage to knock him unconscious when he was on his way back to his house from a mission — where the hell are you getting all these resources and equipment from anyways?

and now he's here, hanging upside down by some flimsy rope that you both know he can easily break, but he won't.

last time he used his strength, you ran away and that did not sit well with him no matter how much he tried to deny it.

so he'll indulge you in your antics as long as your attention is on him and him only.

“apology rejected.”

you act wounded at his words like he's ripped your heart out or something with the way you're clutching your chest all dramatically, the action makes his lips twitch into a small smile.

“well that won't do,” your eyes sparkle with that gleam, dangerous and all too familiar to him, “how can i make you accept my apology then, invincible?” 

it seems like you already have something in mind because you're leaning closer and closer, until your lips are only an inch apart from his.

except obviously you don't act all suave about it and have to say some shit like, “damn your lips are dry as hell,” which makes him laugh more than self-conscious, he knows they're not dry — he's been taking care of himself a lot more ever since you've stepped into his life, you know just in case you two kiss or something, a small innocent, okay maybe not innocent, but nevertheless a fantasy that he certainly does not dream about everyday.

his dad did not tell him that being a superhero comes with whatever this is, he was never told it meant being stuck with an annoyingly hot woman who he's ready to do a concerning amount of things for, just for the rush of adrenaline that he's sure he's grown addicted to.

just like he's grown addicted to your presence.

“i think you need to moisturize them,” you clear your throat, your flirty facade breaking the tiniest bit, eyes glued to his lips.

and he's not that dumb. he knows what you want and lucky for you he wants that too — maybe even more than you.

“yeah i really do, think you can help me out with that cat?” 

“i think i can,” your lips brush against his teasingly — but you're holding yourself back, giving him the option to back away if you've read into the situation wrong but he doesn't. instead he firmly presses his lips against yours and for all the innuendos that get thrown around between you two and the undeniable sexual tension, the kiss is sweet, almost tender — his lips moving in tandem with yours.

it lasts for what feels like an eternity — but not nearly enough when you two pull away. he immediately regrets the action.

he doesn't need to breathe, he needs you.

mark chases your lips, fully expecting you to tease him about his clear desperation but you don't, you kiss him back, again.

“is my apology accepted now?” you mumble against his lips, he chuckles at your words having completely forgotten about that, “yeah,” he gives you a lopsided grin that has you smiling back.

“you gotta work on your morals, kissing a thief? now that's just low invincible”

“no no it wasn't kissing, remember? you were-”, he tried to do air quotes before realizing his hands are still tied, “you were helping me moisture my lips, no?” he teases you back, the playful banter flows easily between you two, like always.

“oh right, my bad, moisturizing.”

“i think my lips are still dry though.” he sheepishly says, hoping you'll kiss him some more.

and you do.

this is so wrong, he knows that, but your lips against his feel like heaven, your hand cupping his jaw oh so gently like he's made of glass just feels so right.

he stiffens slightly when he feels you lick a strip up his face. you menace, his eyes snap open and look at you in mock disappointment.

“are you ever not horny?

“that's bold coming from you invincible.”

“you're gonna leave me blue balled again, aren't you, you tease?” he sighs exasperatedly.

you gasp, “at least take me out on a date first,” your faux offense is adorable — like you haven't been making his life a literal nightmare with all those teasing touches and heated gazes.

he forgets whatever he was about to say when you gently force his jaw open, thumb tracing his jawline while you slide a piece of paper in his mouth, “close your mouth,” your tone alone is enough to make him obey, closing his mouth — teeth holding onto the paper’s edge.

“good boy.”

mark feels himself getting hot and bothered at your praise. he holds your gaze, hoping for an explanation.

“my number, love.”

oh, so you weren't messing around for once.

you press one last kiss, to the tip of his nose before hopping onto some building's ledge, your body moving gracefully, once again leaving him hanging — quite literally this time.

© digitald0rk 2025. do not steal, repost or translate any of my work. want more? click here ★

[s0dium]

I fucking hate him

A/n: One of the dialogues is lightly taken from "God of Ruin" by Rina Kentaken (plz check it out) Enjoy!!

Word count: 3.5k

Synopsis: You detest Yuji's uncle, Sukuna. His demeanor is rude and abrasive, and he is undoubtedly a sadist. You don't even try to hide your disdain, but the more you try to distance yourself from him, the stronger his opposition grows. Each attempt to push him away only seems to draw him in closer, closer, ever so close.

"You're fucking insufferable," you spat, your eyes narrowing with hatred. "You're pretentious," Sukuna shot back, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth." No, you're a narcissist," you hiss" Yeah, but I turn you on," he purrs

Warning: Hate sex, rough sex, biting, fingering, edging, cowgirl, size kink, breeding, unprotected sex, slight voyeurism, breeding

You remember the day you met Sukuna for the first time like it was yesterday.

It was during the somber occasion of Wasuke Itadori's funeral—Yuji's beloved grandfather. The day was draped in a heavy sorrow; after the ceremony and the lowering of the casket, you followed the Itadori family back to their home. Being practically family yourself, and living just next door, it felt natural to join them and if not grieve, support the grieving family alongside them. While everyone gathered in the garden, sharing hushed memories and quiet support, you slipped inside the house to charge your phone.

As you stepped into the room, the air felt suddenly charged, like the prelude to a storm. There in the living room, was a man, a large man, lounging on one of the sofas dressed in a black suit and tie. The first thing you notice is his striking pink hair contrasting sharply with the dark, intricate tattoos that crawl up his neck and frame his face. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, fix on you the moment you enter, and his smirk is like a crack in a mask of indifference.

"You must be the famous dear friend of the family, Y/n right?" he drawls, his voice as smooth as silk and just as dangerous. "Heard a lot about you. All good things, I promise." His voice drips with sarcasm making you thickly gulp.

You hesitate by the doorway, your initial smile freezing on your lips. This was the Sukuna Ryomen? The man you'd heard only in hushed conversations between Jin and Choso, the man Yuji calls his uncle? You try to muster your composure, crossing the room to stand at a respectable distance.

"I wish I could say the same," you reply, aiming for polite but firm. Your voice wavers just slightly.

Sukuna chuckles, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. "Oh, come now. No need for such defenses. I'm not the monster they painted in their tales. Or perhaps I am, and that's what intrigues you? What do you think so far" he bends forward. "Am I intriguing?"

You bristle at his words, the arrogance dripping from each syllable like poison. "I-I dont know about that." You curse yourself at the way your voice comes out as a stutter. "I'm here out of respect for your family."

"Respect," he repeats, tasting the word as if it's something exotic. "Funny, I never put much stock in that. The old man sure tried to teach me, shame he is gone. But perhaps you'll teach me its value?"

What the hell does he mean by that?

He stands suddenly, closing the distance between you with a few measured steps. You can’t help but step back, your back hitting the wall. His presence is overwhelming, suffocating.

"Why so tense?" Sukuna teases, leaning close, his breath ghosting over your cheek. "I'm just trying to get to know you better. After all, anyone who loves my family must have some redeeming qualities, hidden though they may be. Although," he tilts his head, as if analyzing you. "I wouldn't be surprised if they just kept you around cause you're a pretty thing to look at."

You feel a flush of anger and embarrassment heating your cheeks. "I think you've gotten to know enough for one day," you snap, ducking under his arm and striding toward the door. His laughter follows you, low and mocking.

"Oh, don't be like that!" he calls out. "We're just getting started!"

It only took a minute. One minute for you to decide that you hated Sukuna with a fucking passion.

Unfortunately, the fact that Sukuna had just gotten out of jail, did nothing to hamper your hatred. It seemed like ever since he got out, he was not only determined to stick to the family, but to you, like glue.

The Friday night dinners with the Itadori family, once cherished and loved, had practically turned into a battleground. What used to be a warm gathering was now filled with endless teasing and arrogant attempts at flirting. You were even hesitant to stay over now, as you were never to sure when you’d turn a corner and there Sukuna would be with some sleazy remark about your pajamas.

You tried talking to the Itadori family about it, tried complaining to Jin and raise your concerns. And as receptive and understanding as they were, you knew that for them, blood was thicker than anything, and in some part, you knew that applied to you too.

Still, you persisted, even now as you sat at another Friday dinner you were determined to just enjoy yourself with the family you loved so much.

Key word, tried.

"Well, Jin, I must say, this food is... quaint.” He says through a chuckle and you have to bite the inside of your cheek from throwing a fork at him right there and then. “Did you burn it on purpose, or was that just a happy accident?"

"Dude," You breathe a sigh of relief when Choso speaks up, his voice calm but firm. "Can you go one day without being a jerk?" His eyes are fixed on Sukuna, echoing the frustration you both share about his behavior. This solidarity is one of the reasons why you feel closest to Choso in the family. His understanding and shared grievances with the insufferable man were one of the reasons why you two were best friends.

"Please, I bet this food beats anything you had in prison." You whisper under your breath, but audibly enough that others catch it when you hear Choso breathe through his nose in a laugh-like snort.

Sukuna sets down his silverware and leans forward with a grin, his eyebrows raised in amusement as he gazes across the table at you. "Oh, someone's got a sharp tongue," he remarks. "Careful, angel, you might cut yourself."

You roll your eyes and sharply cross your arms. "Funny, coming from someone who probably had to beg for scraps behind bars. Do you even know what real food tastes like?"

You don’t miss the way Yuji chokes on his pasta, stifling back laughter making you smile.

Sukuna's lips curve into a sly smirk as he locks eyes with you. "Oh trust me, I've tasted a lot of things. But I guess you wouldn't understand, being so... sheltered."

Unfazed, you shoot back with a dismissive wave of your hand, "Sheltered? Please. At least I don’t need to rely on prison slop to remind me of home."

This time, Sukuna's response is a silent, piercing stare that makes you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Even though you were wearing a sweater and shorts, his gaze made you feel like you were naked.

From the corner, Jin clears his throat, chuckling nervously. "Um, maybe we should all just calm down a bit—"

You cut him off, your voice firm as you defend the meal laid out before you. “No way, not when he disrespects your food, which is great, may I add.”

"Oh, I love it when you get all fired up." Sukuna's eyes glint with mischief as he watches your rising frustration. "It's adorable."

Feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, you stand up abruptly, pushing your chair back with a scrape. "Excuse me, I think I'm full," you declare crisply, gathering your dishes with a clatter and storming off to the kitchen to dump them in the sink. Without a backward glance, you stride toward the living room, your footsteps echoing your irritation.

"Come on, why do you always gotta be such an ass, Uncle?" Yuji mumbles, shooting a glare at Sukuna who only responds with a shrug.

As you sank into the couch cushions, you let out a deep sigh of relief, your body sinking into the familiar comfort of your favorite spot. You turned on the TV, dazedly watching whatever was on, trying to distract yourself from the day's tensions. Of course, thoughts of Sukuna kept creeping into your mind. What was his problem with you? Did the man get dropped on the head as a baby? How and the hell were he and Jin brothers?? Surely he was the result of some fucked up science experiment.

Engulfed in your thoughts, the passage of time slipped unnoticed until a shift in the couch's cushion snapped you back to reality. You turned, and -

Oh what the fuck.

Sukuna settled next to you, leaning on the armrest of the other side of the couch, a tattooed hand settled on his thigh, He had changed into a white tank top and sweatpants, and you feel your heart jump when your eyes unconsciously travel to between his leg where a slight budge pressed against the fabric. Shit. The tips of your ears turned red and you bit the inside of your cheek. That's another thing you loathed about Sukuna; how the scent of his old spice shampoo made you dizzy, how the way he towered over you made your breathing stop, how despite how fucking insufferable he was, he was so so so attractive.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you choked out, your tone edged with disbelief and irritation.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "What does it look like? Watching TV," he replied coolly, his eyes briefly scanning the screen before settling back on you. "Everyone's gone to sleep, you know."

"No, what are you doing sitting next to me?" you hissed, the proximity suddenly feeling far too close despite the physical distance. Your eyes narrowed, locking onto his vermillion eyes.

"Why you afraid I'll bite?" He says, gnashing his teeth together in a teasing display before moving closer to you. "Don't worry, I only bite when I'm asked."

"S-stop talking to me like that," you say, trying to shuffle back, but find yourself already trapped against the armrest.

"Like what?" Sukuna's voice is teasing, almost playful.

"Like I'm your toy."

He tilts his head slightly and leans forward, a smirk playing at his lips. "More like my doll."

"More like your grim reaper. I'll slice your throat if you touch me," you retort sharply, the tension between you crackling. You watch the way his eyes rake over you like a porn magazine, making you cross your arms as if to shield yourself.

He laughs, a sound rich with amusement. "You're such a menace. I want to gobble you up."

As he inches closer, the scent of his shampoo fills the air—a fragrance so intoxicating you want to bury your nose in it, yet you resist. "I'll give you indigestion, asshole," you snap, trying to maintain your composure.

"Worth it, muse," he counters smoothly, his eyes locking onto yours.

"Sure you're going to be thinking about that when I punch you in the face?"

"Oh, and make me bleed? Blood?" He licks his lips. "Yum." He feigns shock, leaning even closer. "You just keep ticking all my boxes today. Did you do your research on me?"

"Not even if you were the last man alive," you choke out, his proximity overwhelming, his face just inches from yours now. A slight move, and your noses would brush against each other.

"Last man to everyone else? No. To you? Highly likely." His whisper is a taunt, his breath a warm tease against your skin.

That's it.

As you attempt to rise from the couch, Sukuna's large hand swiftly lands on your thigh, pressing just firmly enough to guide you back down onto the cushion. You react instinctively, trying to swat his hand away, but he's quicker; he catches both of your wrists in his grasp, holding them gently yet with an unyielding firmness.

"What the hell are you doing?" you demand, your voice sharp with alarm and a flare of anger, your eyes locked intensely on his, searching for an explanation in his steady gaze.

"Jesus christ Y/n" Sukuna groans, rolling his eyes, "How long are we going to keep this thing of ours going?"

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Our thing? What thing?”

“The thing where we act like we hate each other but actually want to fuck the brains out of each other.” He chuckles.

Your eyes widen and you feel your face grow deathly hot. You try to step back, and get some space, some room to breathe, but the hand on your wrist keeps you from doing so.

“I-fuck you” The words come out of your mouth more soft and meager than you intended to, and you find yourself locked into his blue gaze.

“Believe me, I've thought about it.” His voice is low, and his face isn't painted with a shit-eating grin like it so usually is, he's serious and stern. You stay silent as you watch him examine your face. He leans in, close enough to kiss you, raises his right hand and runs his finger tips down your face.

"Will you bite my tongue if I kiss you?"

"Maybe"

Sukuna's mouth crashes onto yours, hard, angry, and demanding. He doesn't even give you a chance to resist, not even a breath. His lips are fierce against yours, stealing every breath you try to take. Your hands instinctively move to push him away, but instead, you find yourself gripping his shirt, pulling him closer.

You meet his aggression with equal force, your lips moving furiously against his. His hands cup your face roughly, holding you in place as his tongue demands entry. You respond with a whine, opening up to him, your tongues tangling in a heated dance.

Every kiss is a challenge, every touch a dare. You bite his lower lip, drawing a groan from him that vibrates through you. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The intensity of the moment leaves you breathless, hot, and angry.

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging sharply as if to remind him you won't be dominated easily. He retaliates by pressing you harder against the cushions, so you have no choice but to melt into him.

In one swift motion, Sukuna pulls back just enough to yank his shirt over his head, revealing muscles lined with black tattoos beneath. Before you can even take a breath, he’s back, his mouth claiming yours with renewed fervor. His hands move to your shirt, fingers pulling at the fabric of your sweater. You break the kiss for a mere second as he tugs your shirt off, then he dives back in, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that makes your head spin.

His hands roam over your newly exposed skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your breath hitches as his fingers find the waistband of your pants. He undoes them with a practiced ease, pushing them down and leaving you in just underwear and bra, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"W-what do you think you're doing?" you stutter, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he replies, his voice low and filled with a wicked amusement.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "I'm gonna fuck you." His hands slide over your hips, pulling your pants down completely, and you shiver at the sensation of his touch.

You whine when he places his knee between your legs which pushes against your clothed crotch. You involuntarily buck up your hips to try and gain more friction, making Sukuna chuckle; his shit eating grin widening.

“Needy, arent you?”

Your instinct is to tell him to fuck off, but he is already hooking a finger under your pastel pink panties; pulling the material down to reveal your cunt. You mentally curse yourself at the fact that you're already wet, a fact that will sure to swell Sukuna's ego.

Your hands fly down to hide yourself but he swats them away, giving you a glare before sliding a finger up and down your wet slit; collecting the juices before pushing a digit into your tight hole.

"S-shit." your groan, and the moment you clench around him, a sickening grin spreads across his tattooed face.

"Always knew you where gonna feel great around me."

The first curl of his fingers knocks the wind out of you, as it hits the sweet spot inside of you that you could only dream to reach on your own.

“Hah~ I cant-” You whimper, stomach clenching and legs trembling from the pleasure. You want to say you hate this, tell him to get off of you but you can't, you can't even think straight. You even push your hips out, angling them so his digits reach deeper into that sweet spot that sends tendrils of electricity through your body. But before you can fully bask in the pleasure, before you can taste your orgasm on your tongue, he pulls his fingers out.

"You think I'm gonna let you cum so early? After all the shit you have pulled?" His hand flies to your throat wrapping around it with a force that belies the strength behind it. Your breath hitches, a strange mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through your veins. His touch is firm, and commanding, but there’s an undeniable pleasure in the way his fingers tighten slightly, reminding you of the power he holds.

"Nah no way." Sukuna chuckles "Your just gonna have to suck it up."

You try to speak, but his grip tightens just enough to cut off your words, leaving you gasping. The pressure on your throat is intoxicating, a strange pleasure mingling with the discomfort. You can feel your pulse throbbing under his hand. You are so dazed that you don’t even notice he has pulled out his dick until you feel something big pressing against your entrance, making you look down and your eyes widen as you do so.

You’re about to open your mouth to say something, what, you do not know, but all of a sudden Sukuna pushes his dick into you until his hips are flushed against yours. It feels like you're being split in two, and the way his tip smushes against your cervix makes you unable to find your breath. The unfamiliar feeling has you squirming and clenching around his cock; body desperately trying to push out the foreign intrusion.  

“Shit you gotta loosen up doll, cant fuck you like this.” There were veins popping on his temple as he started to rub tight circles on your clit. Bolts of pleasure shoot up your body, and you desperately try to relax your body.

“Atta girl” He coos, withdrawing his hips before slamming into your.

The first thrust completely knocks the wind out of you. The collision with your gspot has you arching your back of the couch; eyes screwed shut and letting out a loud moan. He's girth spread you so well, so much, and the friction was so delicious, tears blotted your eyesight. Your skin is buzzing, and your entire lower half is shaking from the pleasure. Sukuna's pace is brutal, unforgiving, and he has to grab the arm rest above you with one arm to help his brutal and unforgiving pace into you.

Your mind grows hazy, lost in the sensation of how good he was fucking you, but then, without explanation, a spark of defiance ignites within you. Suddenly, you find the strength to flip him over, his dick not leaving the warmth of your cunt once and so you were effectively laying on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. With your chest flushed against his, and your ass perked up in the air, you begin to fuck yourself on his dick, raising your hips up and down his length as if he was a dildo.

"Oh thats it." Sukuna is not a whining man but here he is, his voice cracking from the feeling and sight of you riding him. "Fuck yourself on me shit shit shit."

You are practically drooling on his chest, your eyes rolling back from how good he felt against your G spot.

You let a whine when you feel yourself start to get tired so Sukuna grabs your hips and starts fucking you on his length.

Fap.Fap.Fap

"Gonna cum in you baby ok?" He murmurs into your ear and you dazedly nod.

Suddenly you feel your stomach dip and your mind go blank. Your mind feels as though it’s been dipped in pure euphoria, thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind, replaced by an overwhelming wave of bliss that drowns out everything else. Your body responds in kind, muscles tensing and releasing in perfect harmony with the pleasure coursing through you. It’s as if every cell is vibrating with delight, your skin tingling with a heightened sensitivity that makes even the slightest touch feel like a divine caress. The heat of the sensation is intoxicating, making your limbs feel weightless as if you’re floating on a cloud of pure, unadulterated joy.

Sukuna is quick to follow, shooting ropes of thick cum that glide down his shaft onto his balls.

"See? We are practically made for each other."

[lucyrose191]

CALM IN THE STORM| H.SPECTER

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Wife!reader

Summary: The entire firm knew how temperamental Harvey Specter was and whenever he was in one of those moods, they knew it was going to be a painful day, until they found the only thing that could calm him down.

Warnings: none.

Suits Master List

Harvey Specter could be described as many things; arrogant, rude, uptight, stone-faced and most certainly hot headed. It wasn’t hard to piss him off but it was certainly difficult to calm him down and once his mood was ruined the entire day was doomed.

It was quite frankly anyone’s worst day whenever Harvey wasn’t in a good mood because they always took the brunt of it and there was no way to fix it.

Or so they thought.

If there was one thing anyone would say about Donna Paulsen, it was that she knew everything, which meant she knew exactly what would calm Harvey Specter down.

His wife.

Y/N Specter wasn’t a lawyer, she was an aerospace engineer which was just as, if not more impressive than being a lawyer and Harvey Specter worshipped the ground she walked on.

After watching Mike Ross leave Harvey’s office with near tears streaming down his face, Donna had enough and picked up the phone.

Y/N’s attention was momentarily drawn away from her computer at the sound of her office phone ringing but continued looking through data as she answered "Y/N Specter speaking."

A sigh of relief was heard through the line before Donna’s voice filtered through. "Y/N! Thank god! I don’t know what the hell is up Harvey’s arse today but he’s nearly made Mike cry three times and it’s only 10 o’clock, can you please come and save us," her husband’s secretary practically begged.

Y/N smiled, leaning back in her chair, work forgotten. This wasn’t the first time she had received a phone call like this and she found it hilarious just how much her husband built within people, he was a real softy around her.

Luckily for her, she had a lot of freedom in her role, she had proven herself for many years before that she was now able to come and go from work as she pleased, being fully trusted that no matter how often she was hear her work was always done.

"I won’t be long," she said before hanging up, not wasting time in grabbing her things to make her way to her husband’s workplace.

As she walked towards her husbands office, Y/N bit down her laughter as she saw the obvious signs of relief on everyone’s faces as she walked by.

"Y/N you have no idea how happy I am to see you," Donna greeted her as she approached her desk, "He’s miserable in there."

Y/N looked through the glass into her husbands office and found that the redhead was telling the truth, the heavy frustration on her husband’s face was hard to miss.

She gave Donna a smile before making her way into Harvey’s office.

The man sighed heavily hearing his office door open, not looking up from the case file open in front of him. “I thought I said I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

Y/N smiled, “and does that include me?”

Harvey’s head snapped up at the sweet, smooth tone of his wife’s voice, feeling the tension in his shoulders deflate just from her presence. "Y/N?”

“Hey handsome." She smirked slightly, walking around his desk, he turned in his chair just as she stood in front of him.

He looked up at her in the same way he always did, there was nothing but pure love in those eyes, “What are you doing here?"

Y/N smiled lovingly at him, stepping forward to stand between his legs, wrapping her arms around the back of his head. “You’re scaring your colleagues.”

Harvey rolled his eyes, sitting up to rest his hands on her waist. “They’re ridiculous.”

Y/N hummed, “maybe, but how could I deny the chance to come and see you?”

“Fair point, I can understand the struggle of not seeing my handsome face for a couple hours,” Harvey replied, dead serious, smiling as his wife rolled her eyes and gave him a gentle slap to the shoulder.

“What’s got you all worked up, darling?” She asked.

Harvey released a deep breath, sparing a glance to the case sitting open on his desk. “I didn’t even want to represent the guy but Jessica knows him, I know him to be a complete prick."

Y/N thought for a moment before inviting herself further into his space, forcing her way into his lap, not that he was complaining, he just tightened his grip around her, leaning back into his chair. “Well, how about I treat you to lunch?” She proposed.

Harvey smiled tiredly. “I’d love that, baby." He replied, earning a bright smile from his wife who leaned forward to press a loving kiss to his lips before standing back up, pulling him up with her,

“Come on then, we’ve kept Ray waiting long enough.”

The smile on Harvey’s face was a stark contrast to the frustration he had been hounding earlier and it was all down the angel in front of him who wouldn’t even allow him to grab his coat, too persistent in dragging him through his office door.

As they made their way out of the building, they paid no attention to the uncomfortable weight that seemed to lift from everyone’s shoulders.

One thing for sure is that the entire firm were relieved for the existence of Y/N Specter.

[devilishcupid]

CARBON COPY | Miguel O'Hara

☆ premise: trying to find miles morales in earth-42, he encounters you. or at least, a version of you.

☆ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!alt universe!reader

☆ warnings: across the spiderverse spoilers, pregnant!reader, clueless!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, miguel's pov, some swearing

☆ a/n: oh my god. across the spiderverse is literally a masterpiece. into the spiderverse already is, but the spiderverse team said, "we can do better." they didn't have to, but they did.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Jessica asked through the commlink. "This is risky, even by your standards."

"It doesn't matter. The quicker we find Miles, the quicker we get out of here." Miguel muttered into his earpiece as he walked through the busy streets of Earth-42's New York.

"Yes, but blending in? For all we know, a version of us exists here."

"Which is why you need to stop talking and start looking, Jess." Miguel hissed a little too loud, earning looks from a few passerbys. He winced. Jessica had a point. If a version of them did exist in this universe, it would be best not to bring attention to themselves.

"Miguel!"

And... that was now thrown out of the window. Cursing under his breath, he turned around reluctantly to face the person who called him—only to find that it was you.

His eyes widened, and his lips parted at the sight of you. Never in a million years did he expect to see her again. But here you were, the absolute spitting image of her. Your clothes were exactly the same things she would wear, your hair and makeup done the same way.

Finding different versions of people in different universes was not uncommon. There's literally a society uniting the different universes' own Spider-people, for God's sake. But Miguel didn't expect this. He didn't expect a carbon copy of his dead wife on a universe where Spider-Man did not exist.

He should've said he wasn't Miguel, that you were mistaking him for someone else. Hell, he shouldn't have stopped and turned around in the first place. He didn't know what came over him, but in a second, he had his arms wrapped around your body.

"Miguel, hon, are you okay?" You asked, your voice laced with surprise and concern. You had no clue that the man who was hugging you was not your husband. At least, not your husband in this universe.

Miguel grunted in response, his ability to string words together to form a sentence rendered broken by your presence. He squeezed you tighter. He couldn't believe he was holding you in his arms.

You weren't the same woman he fell in love with. He knows this. But he couldn't help himself. You looked exactly like her. Felt exactly like her. Sounded exactly like her. Shit, you even smelled like her.

"Damn it, Miguel, keep it together! She's not your wife!"

Hearing Jess' voice snapped Miguel out of his stupor. Remembering his mission, why he was there in the first place, he pulled away from you. He didn't want to. He wanted to hold you longer. But he knew that if he did, he wouldn't have been able to stop.

"Honey, what's wrong?" You asked, cupping his face in your hands. God, how he missed feeling the warmth of your palms. "You're acting weird."

"I'm fine, sweetheart." He gave you a small smile, his hands wrapping around yours and his lips pressing a kiss on each of your wrists. "I just missed you, that's all."

You laughed. "What are you talking about? You saw me this morning."

Miguel could only chuckle in an attempt to hide his sadness. What was only hours for you was months for him. "Right. I did."

"Are you sure you're okay, though?" You asked again, eyebrows furrowing and the corners of your lips downturned.

"Don't worry about it, darling. I am."

He wasn't. But you didn't need to know that. You didn't need to know that in another universe, the two of you were married. You didn't need to know that you had a daughter together. You didn't need to know that he loved you and your daughter more than life itself, only for him to lose you both.

"Listen, I have to go. I'm having lunch with a friend. But I'll see you later at Doctor Nguyen's, okay?" You placed your hands on your stomach, a smile forming on your face. "I can't wait to see her again."

Miguel swallowed the lump in his throat before forcing himself to smile. Only now he noticed the bump on your stomach, carrying a different Miguel's Gabriella. "Yeah, me too."

With a kiss goodbye on his cheek, you walked away, blissfully unaware that he was not your Miguel. He watched as you disappeared around the corner, knowing it was the first and last time he was ever going to see you again.

But that didn't matter. He'll find Miles. He'll make sure the canon isn't destroyed. He'll make sure another version of himself wouldn't have to suffer the loss of his family the same way he did. He'll make sure you and your kid were safe.

[jo-com]

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡☕ ➛ So this is love?

Max Verstappen x Fem!Sainz reader

Summary: The man who always put racing above anything else; not even caring or investing about others because he thinks it’s a waste of time—What did you do to him to make him change his mind?

Genre: Cold!Max x Persistent!reader

Note: Grammatical errors and this is not proofread!! Enjoy thoo

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚💕 ─ ───────

Max stared blankly at his mates as he tuned out the noises that they spoke. His eyes narrowed and brows knitted in a frown— obviously not invested in their conversation.

“Yeah, she’ll be coming here, so be nice guys” Carlos spoke,his tone laced with a warning, glaring back at other drivers who he thinks will scare you off.

And of course he was staring directly at max.

Max cocked a brow,“What?”,he was clearly not listening to them, so why the hell are they looking at him?

The other driver rolled his eyes, “i said don’t be batshit crazy and be nice to my sister”.

“Crazy?” Max scoffed, “i don't even give a damn about her, so why do i have to be nice?.”

The room then fell quiet at his words; no one even muttered a single sound as the heavy atmosphere intoxicated them—awkwardness spreading across the drivers as they stare back and forth at each other.

For a whole five minutes, none of them had the courage to speak up and end the insufferable silence.

Not until Charles let out a scrappy cough, making the others sigh in relief from his boldness.

“Carlos didn’t mean it like that, he meant that you should just be a little nice, his sister's pretty sensitive, you see” Charles exclaimed, his voice shaking from the previous tension.

Max tutted in response, mumbling a low ‘whatever’ before standing up and leaving the Ferrari garage.

…

It was finally the day of your arrival, everybody were excited to meet the you… well almost everybody.

Max just slumped in the corner, his body leaning against the wall with his usual scowling face— avoiding others that tries to converse with him.

He was minding his own business and letting his mind wander off.

What’s so special about her that people kept fussing over her.

His train of thought quickly got interrupted as people swarmed the front door, their voices echoing and colliding with one another making a god awful sound.

He rolled his eyes with judgement as he stared abruptly at the doorframe— not even bothering to check or give the slightest interest on you.

But as you walked closer to his eye range, his breath seemed to hitch and his jaw slowly hung opened.

He doesn’t know how or why, but as soon as his eyes met yours it felt like his world suddenly turned in slowmo and all the others that surrounded you, now disappeared— it was like there were only the two of you.

Max never felt something like this before, it’s a weird and uncomfortable feeling. How the hell do you make it stop?

His once cold and composed look now turned into a love sick fool expression.

“Hey man you okay?” Logan asked, his tone dripped with pure concern over his fellow driver.

Max suddenly jumped from Logan’s presence. He never even saw that he came and leaned besides him. It was so unusual for him to be that unattentive.

Max lets out an awkward cough, “yeah, i am good, just looking like everyone else.”

“Looking? Dude you look like you want to get down on your knees for her” the other joked, easing up to max.

But to him it wasn’t a joke, he was conflicted on why he looked like that and was it obvious to everyone?. What the actual fuck is happening to him.

He then raised his hand and gently lay it to his forehead to check whether or not he has a fever. Damn no fever.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Logan responded, his eyes curled into a soft concern gaze.

Max didn’t answer and flickered his eyes back to yours. His face suddenly heats up as you stare back and smile at him. Your smile that was radiant like the sun and eyes soft like sky.

After that short and subtle interaction, he can’t seem to keep his focus and just let his thoughts wander off that lead to that moment.

…

“You’re max right?” You greeted, tugging the excess hair to your side and smiling softly at him. Having him a clear view of your angelic appearance.

Max could feel his whole face being flushed, god he wishes you don’t notice, “uhm yeah” he spoke, his tone that was always high and mighty now turned into a low and shy ones.

You hummed in response and puckered your lips with a pop, “well I’ve been seeing you all day and you’re always avoiding me, is there something wrong?”

Max’s eyes widened, “no..i-uhm there’s-“ he stuttered; trying to find the right words but nothing came out right.

You examined his actions and then let out a few giggles at his antics. You didn’t understand why they call him mean, to you he was just adorable.

…

After that day, the two of you often hang out with each other and would hear whispers and murmurs about you guys, but always brushed it off and ignore people.

“Here try this max” you beamed, handing him the mango that you were holding— smiling from ear to ear as you share your favorite fruit to someone speacial. You loved mango, i mean how could you not? It’s tasty and delicious.

He gave you a look of uncertainty, he never liked mango, it’s weird looking and nothing will ever change his mind about it, even you.

But maybe one bite won’t hurt.

“Haha sure” he replied, taking the fruit from your hand and gently taking a bite out of it. He then gulped it down his throat and stared back at you— your eyes sparkled with joy and excitement, as you await for his response.

“It’s alright” he answered, giving you a thumbs up to which you retorted with a happy clap.

“Thank god you like it, I wasn’t sure whether or not you’d like one of my favorite fruits”

Hmm maybe mangoes aren’t that bad.

…

It didn’t take long before max realized how inlove he was with you and as soon as he did, he asked to court you.

Of course you agreed to it, you as well fell for him but you also wanted to get the approval of both your parents and brother.

That’s why Max took it upon himself to make your parents like him, though he knew that the real obstacle was Carlos.

“So, you’re telling me that you want to date my sister?” Carlos asked, his voice dripped with sarcasm and anger.

Max smiled nonchalantly, “yes”

“You want to date her with that attitude?” Carlos spat, his teeth gritted with each word.

“Yes” he answered again bluntly.

He was getting on Carlos nerves and you could tell.

“Haha uhm Max can you come here for a sec?” You laughed dryly, grabbing Max’s sleeves and dragging him to the side.

“What did we talk about? I told you to be nice” you scolded, rubbing the bridge of your nose to ease your stress.

“I was being nice” max grumbled, his brows knitted in a frown out of habit.

Unbeknownst to them, Carlos was in the sidelines listening, laughing silently at his fellow driver, ‘hehe he’s done for, he never admits his mistake and apologize’ he thought.

“Sorry, I’ll try okay?” Max mumbled, making you smile and kiss his cheeks in response.

Carlo’s jaw dropped, What the fuck, why was THE max verstappen apologizing, is this real??

The two of them came back hand in hand and faced Carlos once again.

“I am sorry for being rude, and yes i am dating her so please approve”.

Carlos was still in shock, never in his life had he seen Max act like a puppy and apologize to anyone.

“No uhm it’s okay we’re good” he replied, his voice shaky from disbelief.

So that’s what max is like when inlove. Damn he’s like a lost puppy.

…

Sorry for not uploading too much🥹🥹 I’ve been busy but i hope you enjoyed this!!💋

[daeniradraconis]

Unexpected Overtime - Q. Hughes

Hey Lovelies! 💖

Sooo, here’s Quinn’s story in The Hughes Effect Saga. You can read this one on its own, but trust me—it’ll make way more sense if you check out Luke & Jack’s stories first!

I LOVED writing this one, but ngl, I also kinda hated it —I just wasn’t sure if I fully nailed Quinn’s personality. But hey, I gave it my best shot, and I really hope you enjoy it! Summary: Quinn Hughes is injured, spiralling, and sinking into a darkness he can’t escape. But the worst part? He’s in love with his best friend—and he doesn’t even realize it yet.

Warnings: Mention of rape! I included Olivia & their past relationship in the story, but it’s pure fiction! I don’t know anything about what actually happened, so this is just my imagination running wild. Also, this story is 18+ because... well, the ending speaks for itself. 🔥

Happy reading! For more fun: masterlist

--- Being friends with Quinn Hughes was a test of patience, persistence, and an alarming amount of forced conversations.

Blanca still remembered the first time they met—at Brock Boeser's girlfriend Bella's birthday party. She and Bella had hit it off months earlier in a Pilates class, bonding over their shared love of overpriced smoothies and their mutual inability to take life too seriously. Through Bella, she met Brock a couple of times, but the rest of the team? Completely new territory.

She felt like an outsider, and that annoyed the hell out of her. But in hindsight, maybe it was the luckiest thing of the night, because Quinn Hughes felt the same way.

Unlike the other guys, who were comfortable and relaxed, Quinn hovered near the edge of the party, practically trying to blend into the wallpaper. He was the team’s rookie, still adjusting, still figuring out his place. Awkward and reserved, he kept attempting to join conversations but never quite sank into them. Every now and then, he’d let out a short laugh at something one of the guys said, but Blanca could tell it wasn’t real—just a filler response to keep people from noticing how uncomfortable he felt.

It was written all over his face. What the hell am I doing here?

He looked like he wanted to bolt.

Blanca knew that feeling all too well. And she hated standing alone and awkward. So, she did what she thought was her best option for the night—she forced her presence on Quinn Hughes.

Without hesitation, she plopped down next to him on the couch, drink in hand.

"You have the face of a man plotting his escape," she noted, taking a sip.

Quinn blinked. “Huh?”

“I mean, unless this is just your natural resting broody face, in which case—my bad.”

For a second, he just stared at her. Then, to her surprise, he let out a short laugh. “I don’t brood.”

"Mmm, debatable. The way you're sitting here all tense, barely talking to anyone, looking like you're regretting every life choice that led you to this exact moment? Kinda broody."

Quinn shook his head, amused. "I'm just… not really a party guy."

"Not shocking," Blanca teased. "You seem more like a ‘watch highlights and stress about the next game’ kind of guy."

His eyebrows lifted. "You got that from watching me sit here for five minutes?"

She grinned. "I'm very observant. Also, you're wearing your stress on your face, buddy."

Quinn exhaled through his nose, shaking his head again, but the tension in his shoulders eased just slightly. Blanca took that as a win.

"So, how do you know Bella?" he asked after a beat.

"Pilates class. We bonded over our shared suffering."

Quinn gave her a skeptical look. "You willingly do Pilates?"

"Listen, don't judge me. I like pain."

He smirked. "That explains why you're talking to me."

Blanca gasped dramatically. "Oh my god, you do have a sense of humor. I was worried."

Quinn chuckled, shaking his head again. "You're a lot."

"And yet, you haven't told me to go away."

He didn't have an answer for that—just took a sip of his drink, the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. Blanca knew then that she had cracked something, even if just slightly.

By the end of the night, she had done most of the talking while Quinn just sat there, listening, watching, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic remark that only encouraged her more. She found him difficult—hard to read, stubbornly reserved—but also fascinating. Quinn, for his part, seemed amused by her relentless energy.

In a lot of ways, Blanca reminded him of his younger brother, Luke—clumsy, chatty, and filled with an almost annoying amount of enthusiasm. But somehow, instead of feeling overwhelmed, he found it… oddly comforting.

And that was how their friendship started. Or, as Blanca would put it, how she forced her friendship on Quinn Hughes.

Because as much as Quinn would later act like she had been an inconvenience that night, she knew—knew—that he had been grateful. He wasn’t the best with words, but Blanca had a knack for reading between the lines.

Which was exactly how she knew Quinn was pissed right now.

“Jesus Christ, Hughes. You could drive a saint to swearing.”

“Sorry, Blan, but I don’t need you to baby me.”

"Quinn." She folded her arms, standing her ground. "I know you hate being injured. I know you hate that you can’t play. I know you bottle things up and don’t want to talk about it. But this is why I moved in with you. You can't deny that you need help."

She pointed at his arm, frustration bubbling over. “You can’t even lift a goddamn fork, Quinny.”

His jaw tightened as he glared at her. She stared right back.

Yeah, Quinn Hughes was stubborn as hell.

Good thing Blanca had never been the type to walk away from a challenge.

"Open your mouth, Hughes." She dangled a tortilla chip loaded with guacamole in front of his face.

Quinn sat at the table, leaning back in his chair as if the mere suggestion of it was an insult. "No."

Blanca rolled her eyes. "Quinn."

"I can feed myself."

"Really? Barely."

"I'm not a child."

"You sure? Because you’ve spilled salsa on your hoodie twice in the last ten minutes."

Quinn scowled, glancing at the small red stain near his ribs. "It’s not my fault. My left hand is useless."

"Exactly." Blanca pushed the chip closer. "So stop being a pain and eat."

His jaw clenched, but after a beat, he snatched the chip from her hand, awkwardly gripping it with his left fingers, trying not to drop it. He shoved it into his mouth, chewing angrily.

Blanca smirked. "See? That wasn’t so hard."

Quinn muttered something under his breath and reached for his glass of water, but his hand fumbled against the rim, almost knocking it over. Blanca caught it just in time, sighing dramatically as she steadied the cup.

"Wow," she said. "Super graceful."

Quinn exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up. It wasn’t just about the injury—and she knew it. Blanca could see the weight of it all in his eyes. The endless mess that was Quinn Hughes’ life, and how tired he was of trying to hold it together. His team was struggling, the locker room was tense, and he felt like he was holding it all together with duct tape and a prayer. The JT trade was supposed to be a breath of fresh air, but the chemistry was poisoned, and the vibe in the locker room only got worse. As captain, he felt responsible for the disaster, even though he knew it wasn’t his fault.

Blanca noticed the change in his mood, and to distract him, she shifted the conversation. "How are your brothers doing? I heard you talking to them this morning."

Quinn ran a hand through his hair, relieved for the change in topic. "Luke and Thea are apartment hunting."

Blanca raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah. With Jack’s girlfriend around, four people in one place was too much."

Blanca laughed, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "Took them long enough to figure that out."

Quinn huffed. "Seriously." He hesitated, then added, "And I think Luke's gonna propose."

Blanca nearly dropped the wooden spoon she was using. "Shut up."

"I’m serious."

"Luke Hughes? The baby of the family?"

"He’s twenty-one, Blan."

She snorted. "Yeah, well, that still makes him a baby. But damn, Thea must be special."

"She is," Quinn admitted, leaning back in his chair. "Luke's different with her. More mature. It's… weird."

Blanca smiled as she flipped a tortilla on the stove. "Weird in a good way?"

"Yeah." Quinn’s voice was thoughtful, almost surprised. "It’s good. He’s happy, really happy."

Blanca stole a glance at him. He was staring at the counter, his fingers tapping absentmindedly against the marble table, lost in thought. His expression was distant, like he was a million miles away. Blanca knew exactly what was going through his mind. He wanted what his brother had—the love, the stability, the certainty. And it frustrated him to no end that he wasn’t even close to having something like that.

"And Jack?" she asked, keeping her tone light. "How’s he handling having a girlfriend?"

Quinn let out a low chuckle. "Honestly? Better than I thought. I didn’t think Anja would stick around, but she has. I mean, it's Jack."

"You mean Jack ‘manwhore’ Hughes?" Blanca teased.

Quinn smirked again. "Yeah. But he changed a lot. He is more… grounded, I guess. I don't know how to explain it. He's still Jack, but... toned down."

Blanca flipped another tortilla, nodding. "Miracles do happen, Quinny. Here’s the proof." Then, before she could stop herself, she added, "Maybe you should take notes."

Quinn's head snapped up. "What?"

Blanca shrugged, feigning innocence. "I mean, if Jack can leave his hookup phase behind, maybe you should think about it too."

His jaw clenched. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." His gray eyes darkened.

Blanca gave him a knowing look. "Quinn..."

His expression hardened, defensive. "Drop it."

So she did. For now. But worry lingered, heavy in her chest.

Because she knew exactly what she was talking about.

Quinn had never been like this. Even when he was younger, he was never the typical NHL player—the one who used fame to collect one-night stands. Sure, hockey had always been his life, but Quinn was also a hopeless romantic. He might not have been great with words, but his actions spoke volumes. He was the kind of guy who remembered the little things—how someone took their coffee, the way they fidgeted when they were nervous, the songs they liked but never admitted to. He cared deeply, even if he didn’t say it out loud. And he wanted to be a father more than anything. They’d talked about it before. He really wanted a family. 

Blanca and Quinn had been friends for seven years now. They’d been through a lot together. Quinn had been there for her when she’d dealt with her trauma caused by her sexually abusive stepfather, when her first love broke her heart, and when she wrecked her car in the middle of a snowstorm and needed him to pick her up in the dead of night. She had always been there for him too. But with Quinn, it was harder. She knew his desires, his dreams, but he hated sharing his burdens. When things went wrong, he shut down, bottling everything up until it exploded. She wished he would let her in. She knew how bad his coping mechanisms were. She understood, because she’d done the same, and she’d nearly lost herself in depression. She knew firsthand how damaging this could be.

Quinn was cold, detached. He hooked up with random girls like it didn’t matter. Like they didn’t matter. And Blanca knew why. She knew who had broken him.

Olivia.

The girl who had shattered him, made him question everything, and turned him into someone who didn’t believe in love anymore.

Quinn wouldn’t talk about it. He avoided the subject like the plague. But Blanca wasn’t stupid. She saw the way he moved through life now—jaded, disillusioned, cynical. She was there when things went south with Olivia. She knew things had ended badly, but Quinn refused to share the details. He claimed hockey was his priority and that he needed to make a decision, but that was only part of the whole story. Everyone knew it—his mom, his dad, his brothers, and his friends. He wasn’t ready to share more. But it had been a year now, and he was still closed off.

And Blanca was afraid.

Afraid that if he kept this up, he would lose something in himself. Something he wouldn’t be able to get back.

She swallowed hard, pushing the lump in her throat down as she slid a plate of tacos in front of him.

"Eat," she ordered.

Quinn didn’t argue. He picked up a taco—with his left hand, struggled, cursed under his breath, and took a bite.

Blanca almost smiled. Almost.

But the worry didn’t go away.

Because Quinn Hughes was spiraling.

And she had no idea how to stop it.

—

Blanca clinked her glass against Bella’s, the sound of laughter and conversation buzzing around them in the crowded pub. The atmosphere was warm, filled with the hum of Friday night energy. She leaned back against the bar, letting the buzz of excitement settle in, though a quiet unease lingered beneath her skin.

“So, what do you think about that guy over there?” Bella gestured toward a group of men at a nearby table, one of them flashing a grin in their direction.

Blanca smiled faintly, her gaze drifting over to the group. The guy Bella pointed out had messy hair, a confident smile, and an easy charm about him. He looked good, but even as she saw him, a wall rose up inside her, the same wall she couldn’t seem to break down, no matter how hard she tried.

“The one with the messy hair?” Blanca asked, her voice light, though she could feel the hesitation bubbling up in her chest.

Bella nodded, a grin spreading on her face. “Yeah. He’s been eyeing you for a while.”

Blanca glanced back at him. He was cute, definitely her type—tall, with that rugged, effortless charm. But as she met his gaze and saw the way he looked at her, a familiar ache twisted in her stomach. She couldn’t do it—not tonight. 

“Hmm,” Blanca murmured, raising her glass to her lips. “Maybe, but I’m not really feeling it tonight.”

Bella raised an eyebrow. "You sure? You’ve been working hard on yourself, Blan. You’re allowed to have some fun."

Blanca’s fingers traced the rim of her glass, trying to push down the weight in her chest. “I know. But... I don’t know. It’s just—sometimes it feels easier to keep people at arm's length, you know?”

Bella’s gaze softened, the understanding clear in her eyes. She didn’t need any further explanation—she knew about Blanca’s past. She knew about her stepfather, the abuse, the aftermath. And, more than anyone, she understood the pain of trying to rebuild after something like that. Blanca had been through years of therapy, working through the trauma, and she had made incredible progress. But some days, like tonight, the scars still felt raw.

"I get it," Bella said quietly, leaning in a little. "But you’re in a good place now, right? You’ve come so far. You deserve to let someone in. You’re allowed to feel worthy of love."

Blanca’s lips pressed together, a bittersweet smile tugging at her mouth. “Yeah, I’m okay. As okay as I can be." She paused, her fingers still tracing the rim of her glass, the quiet reminder of her past lingering in her thoughts. "It’s just hard sometimes. I want to feel… normal. But…then…it’s like I forget how to even let someone close.”

Bella gave her a sympathetic look but didn’t press. “It’s a process. But you’re getting there.”

Blanca nodded, grateful for her friend’s patience. “Thanks. Really.”

Bella shrugged, as if brushing off the deep conversation. "No biggie. Now, what about that guy with the plaid shirt? He’s been eyeing you all night.”

Blanca chuckled, pushing herself to be more present in the moment. “You’re really persistent, aren’t you?”

Bella winked. “A girl’s gotta look out for her best friend.” She then raised her drink and gave a mischievous smile. “You know, if you're not going to make a move, I'll just ask for his number for my sister."

Blanca laughed, shaking her head. "Go ahead. I’m not stopping you."

They continued their teasing and lighthearted chatter for a while, the pub’s lively hum almost drowning out the more complicated thoughts swirling in Blanca’s mind. It was easy to get lost in the fun, in the banter, in the sense of normalcy. 

As they shared another round, Bella pulled out her phone, her eyes scanning the screen. Blanca didn't think much of it at first, until Bella’s expression shifted. Her fingers froze mid-scroll, and she lifted her gaze, a quiet frown forming on her face.

“What’s up?” Blanca asked, a little concerned.

Bella didn’t say anything at first, but her eyes told a different story. Finally, she spoke, her voice tinged with that familiar note of understanding. “It’s Olivia.”

Blanca tried to keep her tone light, though she could feel her insides twisting. “What about her?”

Bella’s voice dropped a little. “She just posted a picture. With her new boyfriend.”

The words hit her like a blow to the chest. It was like a jolt of electricity shot through her body. The weight of it all—the reminder of Quinn’s heartbreak, the way Olivia had left him behind without a second thought—it all came rushing back.

Blanca’s hand tightened around her glass. She could already picture Quinn, alone, staring at his phone, the pain in his eyes growing darker with each passing minute.

She looked at Bella, her expression shifting. “I have to go.”

Bella immediately understood. “Blanca... you don’t have to—”

“I do,” she interrupted, standing up quickly. “Quinn’s going to see that and—he’s not going to handle it well. I can’t just leave him like that.”

Bella nodded, her expression softening with concern. “Go. I get it.”

Blanca shot her a tight smile and grabbed her purse, throwing a few bills down on the table. "I’ll check in with you later. Thanks for tonight, B."

Bella didn’t say anything more, just gave her a quiet nod, watching her leave. As Blanca made her way out of the pub, the chill of the night air hit her skin, but inside, the warmth of the crowd and the music faded into the background. She could already feel the familiar weight of worry settle on her shoulders.

Quinn had been struggling, and tonight, it was about to get worse. She needed to get to him before he spiraled completely. She couldn’t just let him shut down again.

Her breath was shallow as she pulled her phone from her bag, quickly typing out a message to Quinn: I’m going back. Don’t do anything stupid.

She didn’t wait for a cab to pull up in front of the pub; instead, she hailed the first one she saw and climbed in without hesitation.

The taxi rolled to a stop outside their building, and Blanca could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she rushed up the stairs, her mind only on Quinn. The elevator felt like it would take too long, so she took the stairs two at a time, her breath shallow as she pushed through the door into the apartment.

She didn’t need to see much to know that Quinn was in a bad place. The dark living room was only dimly lit by the soft glow of the TV, and there he was, sprawled across the couch, eyes red, face drawn. His jaw was clenched tight, fists occasionally twitching like he was fighting against himself.

Blanca hesitated for a moment, standing in the doorway. She could see it in his posture—the way he held himself tight, like he was trying to keep something from spilling out. The anger, the sadness, the frustration.

“Quinn…” Her voice was soft, unsure how he would react.

He didn’t look up, but he scoffed. “I’m fine. I don’t need anyone right now.”

Blanca’s stomach twisted, the words cutting through her like they always did when he shut her out. She stepped forward slowly, placing her purse down on the table. “Quinn,” she said again, firmer this time, her voice carrying the weight of everything she needed to say. “You’re not fine. And you’re not going to shut me out this time.”

He finally glanced up, his eyes wild, almost defiant. “I’m not in the mood for your pity.”

“I’m not pitying you,” she shot back, moving closer, refusing to back down. “I’m here because I care. You’ve been there for me, you’ve held me when I thought I couldn’t stand anymore. And now it’s my turn to do the same for you.”

Quinn let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “What’s the point? You don’t get it. You’ve got your life together. You’ve got—” He cut himself off, his voice lowering, and he looked away, staring out the window into the night.

Blanca stood there for a moment, her chest tight with emotion. She knew better than anyone what it felt like to be stuck, to be at the mercy of your own mind. But Quinn’s pain was different. He was drowning in it, and no matter how much he tried to convince everyone—including himself—that he was fine, it was clear he wasn’t.

“Quinn,” she began, her voice softer now. "I get it, I really do. I know what it feels like to fall apart, to have your entire world crumble and not know how to fix it. And you know that because you were there for me through it all.”

And that was it. Quinn finally broke down, the tears that had been building up spilling over, his sobs raw and unrestrained. He buried his face in his hands, his entire body trembling.

Blanca didn't say anything. She just sat down next to him, letting him cry, her heart breaking for him, for everything he was carrying, and for everything he felt he had lost.

Quinn’s shoulders shook with each breath, his sobs raw, like the sound of someone unraveling piece by piece. His fists clenched and unclenched in his lap as if he were trying to hold onto something, anything, to keep himself together. But nothing could hold the pieces back any longer. Not when the weight of everything was pressing down on him with such unbearable force.

Blanca held him as he broke apart, and her heart cracked for him. But she knew this moment wasn’t just about comforting him—it was about letting him speak, to let him be seen in all his brokenness, something he rarely allowed himself.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his sobs started to quiet down, though he still trembled under her touch. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t want to. His voice, hoarse and broken, barely came out in a whisper.

“I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t plan for any of this,” he muttered, his words barely audible. His eyes, red and bloodshot, stared at the floor as though looking at the mess of his life, but unable to find a way to fix it.

Blanca didn’t speak, knowing that he wasn’t done, that this was only the beginning of the avalanche that was about to pour out.

Quinn rubbed a hand over his face, dragging it down slowly, the exhaustion from everything he was carrying weighing heavily on him. “I’m twenty-five, Blanca. Twenty-five. And I feel like I’m falling behind. I should have more. I should be… I should be someone by now. Not just a fucking captain who can’t keep his team together. Not just a guy who spends his nights alone in this apartment.”

He looked at her then, his gaze empty, almost pleading. “I thought I’d have it figured out by now. I thought by the time I was in my mid twenties, I would have the house. The job. The family. I would be set, you know? I’d have a plan, I’d have a life.”

His hands clenched at his sides again, his nails digging into his palms like it would somehow ground him in this sea of uncertainty. “But I don’t have any of that. Nothing. Just a failing career, a broken relationship, and—” he paused, swallowing hard. His chest tightened as if the words were caught in his throat, too painful to say. “And I’m just... so fucking tired of watching everyone else live the life I thought I would have. My teammates, my friends, even Jack—who never even wanted a girlfriend. He has everything.”

Blanca felt her heart ache at the raw honesty in his words. He’d never expressed it like this before. He had always been the one who held it all together, the one everyone looked to for strength, for leadership. 

He shook his head, looking lost. “Luke’s getting married soon. Conor’s got a kid now. Hell, even fucking Elias is settling down. It feels like everyone is out there getting what they want—what they deserve—except me. And I thought... I thought I could handle it. But... I’m not handling it. I’m just sitting here, alone in this apartment, and I can’t even look at my own career without feeling like I’m failing. I’m so fucking lonely Blan.”

Blanca could feel her throat tightening as she watched him struggle, his pain radiating off him in waves. He was a man who had built up this image of himself, this strong, capable leader. But now he was torn apart in front of her, vulnerable and uncertain.

“I know I fucked up with Olivia,” he said, his voice bitter as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "I put hockey first. I always did. It’s my fault. And now she’s gone, and part of me is happy she’s found someone, but a selfish part of me hates it. I know we weren’t healthy for each other. I know… I just believed…"

Blanca’s heart clenched at the rawness in his voice. This was the first time Quinn had opened up about Olivia, and the weight of his words hit her harder than she expected. "I thought she would understand," he continued, voice shaking slightly. "I knew it wasn’t fair to expect her to give up her life in New York. I asked her to move in with me, and when she said no, my ego got bruised. She wanted to take things slow, but I... I wanted everything right away. So, I pushed harder with hockey. But all it did was make me more miserable. I was putting everything into the team, but we were still failing. And in the process, I lost her."

Quinn ran a shaky hand through his hair, eyes wide with frustration. "I wanted it all, Blanca. The career, the family, the love. But now... now I feel like I can’t even balance being captain. I’m not holding the team together like I should. Maybe I was never good enough. Maybe I’ll never figure out how to make all this work. And that... that fucking kills me."

Blanca’s breath caught as she saw the sheer depth of his self-doubt. He was looking for validation, for some sign that he wasn’t completely broken. But he wasn’t asking for sympathy. He wasn’t asking her to fix him.

He was simply looking for someone who understood.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he continued, his voice quivering. “I don’t know how to make it all work. The media only makes everything worse, and I can’t quiet the dark thoughts in my head.

Maybe I’m just not meant to have it all. I don’t have that… balance. That ability to chase what I want without falling apart. I thought I could handle it, but I can’t.”

He paused, swallowing hard. The sadness in his eyes was raw, as if admitting it to someone else made it feel even more real. “I want a family, Blanca. I’ve told you before, but I need you to understand—it’s not just about having kids. It’s about finding something real. Something... home.”

He looked down for a moment, then back up at her, the weight of his words hanging in the air. “I want someone who’s there when I come home from a road trip. A smile on their face like they’ve missed me. I want to walk into an apartment that feels warm, where I can just collapse and know I’m not alone.”

A distant look crossed his face, and he spoke softer now, almost as if he were thinking aloud. “I want weekends spent doing nothing but lying on the couch, cuddling. I want to wake up next to someone. I want to feel like I’m part of something that’s mine. And yeah... I want the crying baby, the sleepless nights, the chaos. Because I’m so tired of the emptiness, the silence that fills the space around me. I want to feel like I belong somewhere. To someone.”

His gaze drifted, softening as a faint, faraway smile tugged at the corner of his lips. But it didn’t reach his eyes. “Right now, I don’t feel like I belong. Not in my career. Not in my relationships. Not in my life.”

Blanca reached out, her hand trembling as she placed it gently on his arm, but he didn’t pull away.

“I miss my family... so much,” he said quietly. “But I can’t just go back to them. They have their own lives now. And all I have here is me.” He paused, his words lingering. “I don’t even know if I like who I’ve become… I don’t know if I like...” He hesitated, as if admitting something he wasn’t ready to say. “…me.”

He let out a long sigh, slumping back into the couch, looking defeated. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore. I don’t know if I’ll ever get this right. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to carry all of this. And I don’t even know if anyone’s gonna be around to help me when I fall apart.”

Blanca’s chest tightened as she saw how lost he truly was, how much he was carrying, and how alone he felt. But there was one thing she needed him to understand—one thing that she needed to make clear.

“Quinn,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the ache in her heart. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. You don’t have to carry this alone. You’re not a failure. And you’re not broken. You’re just... human. And you’re allowed to not have all the answers right now. You’re allowed to not have it all figured out.”

His eyes met hers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he seemed to soften. The rawness of his pain was still there, but the weight of it seemed to ease, if only for a moment.

Blanca squeezed his arm gently. “You’ve been there for me when I was at my lowest. I’m here for you now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Quinn didn’t respond immediately, but she could see the flicker of something in his eyes—hope, maybe. Or at least, the first inkling of it. His breathing slowed, his shoulders sagging as some of the tension drained out of him.

They sat there for a moment in silence, the weight of everything still lingering in the air, but it felt… lighter somehow. Like finally letting the words out had loosened the tight grip around his chest.

Then, Blanca exhaled, clapped her hands together, and announced, “Alright. Now that we’ve had our big, dramatic breakthrough moment—I’m sending your ass to therapy.”

Quinn groaned, dragging his hands over his face. “Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious.” She crossed her arms. “You just hit rock bottom on your living room couch, and I am not doing this every week. I’m putting you in professional hands.”

Quinn gave her a flat look. “I am not going to therapy.”

Blanca raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Because I distinctly remember a certain someone forcing me to go when I was a complete disaster. Ring any bells?”

“That was different,” he muttered, but he refused to meet her eyes.

“Oh, it was so different,” she mocked, rolling her eyes. “I was spiraling, you were worried, you made me go, and—shockingly—it actually helped.” She nudged him. “I’m just returning the favor.”

Quinn groaned again, flopping back against the couch. “I hate you.”

Blanca grinned. “Love you too, buddy. Now, I’m gonna find you a good therapist, and if you try to fight me on it, I will drag you there myself.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here I am, saving your life.” She stood, stretching her arms above her head. “Now, do you want to order takeout or do I have to force you to eat something, too?”

Quinn huffed out something that almost sounded like a laugh, rubbing his eyes. “Jesus, you’re relentless.”

Blanca smirked. “Damn right.”

For the first time that night, there was something close to a smile on Quinn’s face. Maybe he wasn’t completely okay yet—maybe he was still drowning in all of it—but at least he wasn’t alone in it. And, for now, that was enough.

– 

Blanca was laying on the couch, lazily flipping through her phone while Quinn sat on the other end, his leg still propped up on a pillow. It had been a few weeks since his breakdown, and though things weren’t magically perfect, she could see a difference. Therapy was helping—not that he’d ever admit it—but she saw it in the way he actually talked to her now instead of shutting down. The way he put in effort.

And apparently, the way he now had homework from his therapist.

“So,” Quinn said, clicking his pen open. “I need a hobby.”

Blanca raised an eyebrow. “You don’t already have one?”

“Reading doesn’t count, apparently.” He rolled his eyes. “I need to do something outside of my apartment.”

She smirked. “That’s rough, buddy.”

Quinn shot her a look before flipping open the notebook on his lap. “Anyway. I have to pick five hobbies to try. And since you’re the reason I’m in therapy, I’ve decided you’re doing them with me.”

Blanca blinked and sat up quickly. “Excuse me?”

He leaned back against the couch, smirking. “Payback.”

“That’s not how this works.”She groaned. 

“That’s exactly how this works.”

She squinted at him. “So what, I just have to go along with whatever you pick?”

“Yup.” He grinned as he wrote Hobby List at the top of the page.

Blanca sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if you make me do something ridiculous like…I don’t know, bird watching, I’m out.”

Quinn snorted but ignored her as he tapped the pen against his chin. “Alright. First up… bowling.”

She made a face. “Bowling?”

“It’s easy and I can still do it one-handed.” He lifted his injured hand slightly. “Therapist approved.”

She hummed. “Okay, I guess that makes sense. What’s next?”

Quinn scribbled down another one. “Dancing.”

Blanca grinned. “Oh my God. You’re serious?”

“Yes.” He exhaled. “I suck at it, and every time I get invited to a wedding or some fancy event, I just stand there like an idiot while everyone else has fun.”

Blanca smirked at his discomfort. “So you want to learn?”

“Yes.” He shot her a look. “But only if you suffer through it with me.”

She shook her head, laughing. “This might be the most shocking thing I’ve ever learned about you.”

“Glad I can keep things interesting,” he said with a flat voice without looking up from his notebook.

Still grinning, Blanca watched as he moved on to the third hobby.

“Okay… number three… biking.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You do realize you have an injury, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. But my legs work fine. And my therapist said low-impact cardio would be good.”

She hummed. “Alright, I’ll allow it.”

Quinn shook his head, smiling as he scribbled down the fourth one.

“Pottery.”

“Pottery.”

Blanca blinked. “Wait, like… pottery pottery?”

“Yup.”

She stared at him. “You, Mr. Captain Serious, want to play with clay?”

He shrugged. “Could be fun.” Then he glanced up at her, a slow, almost teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Plus, I wouldn't mind getting my hands a little dirty.”

Blanca’s brain short-circuited.

For a second, she wasn’t sure she heard him right. Quinn never flirted. At least, not like that. His version of charm had always been quiet, subtle—more awkward than smooth. But this? This was dangerously close to an actual line.

She squinted at him. “Okay. Who are you?”

He grinned, all smug and amused. “What?”

“You just—you never flirt. Like, ever.”

Quinn leaned back, tapping the pen against his chin. “Maybe therapy’s helping me relax a little.”

Blanca huffed, crossing her arms. “Great. Now I’ve got to deal with flirty Quinn?”

“Maybe.”

She groaned. “I take back everything. You can quit therapy.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he wrote down the last hobby.

“Okay, last one… rock collecting.”

Blanca let out a loud laugh, dramatically placing a hand to her forehead.  “You were doing so well.”

“This is gonna be fun! We can do it while we hike!”

Blanca shot him a disbelieving look. “I should’ve known this was a trap. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut that night at Bella’s birthday. And now, look where that’s got me.”

“But it’s too late now, Blan. You can’t just unfriend me after seven years.” He said with a grin—enjoying himself far too much for Blanca’s liking.

"Ughhh..." Blanca groaned, flopping back onto the couch, already regretting every life choice that led to this moment.

But despite her complaints, she couldn’t help but smile. Quinn was trying. He was pushing himself, even if it meant dragging her along for the ride.

And, as much as she hated to admit it… maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

—

The car hummed softly as it rolled down the dimly lit streets, the evening air just crisp enough to make Quinn turn up the heat a little. He kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other drumming lazily against his thigh. Blanca sat in the passenger seat, her legs tucked up slightly, scrolling through her phone while the soft tunes of whatever playlist Quinn had thrown on played in the background.

Blanca smirked, glancing over at him. “I still can’t believe you actually went through with this whole dance lesson thing.”

Quinn scoffed, eyes fixed on the road. “Psychologist’s orders.”

“I mean, I get it,” she continued, “but out of all the hobbies in the world, waltzing still feels like a stretch for you.”

Blanca already knew the real reason behind Quinn’s decision, but she never imagined he’d actually go through with booking a dance lesson. Still, she could see why he’d choose this. Quinn was a maximalist—and a terrible dancer. Quiet, awkward, and never fully comfortable in big social settings, especially at weddings where he always felt out of place. He hated looking stupid and dreaded being the guy just standing there while everyone else had fun. So, naturally, when it came to picking a hobby, he had to choose something that would make him better. Always about improving, even in the most unexpected ways. Classic pro athlete with an ego to match.

“Listen,” he sighed, adjusting his grip on the wheel, which somehow caught Blanca’s attention. Did he always have such long, nice fingers?! “I’ve been to, like, five weddings in the past year, and I have two more coming up. Ever seen a guy just standing awkwardly by the dance floor, sipping whiskey and nodding to the music? That’s me, Blan!”

She laughed. “So what, you’re learning to dance to become the life of the party now? Planning to sweep some ladies off their feet with those killer moves of yours?”

Quinn rolled his eyes. “No, I just don’t want to look like an idiot. And if I ever have a wedding of my own, I should probably know how to dance, right?”

“Ohh, now we are talking,” Blanca sing-songed, shifting in her seat. “Tell me, what’s the dream Hughes wedding looking like?”

Quinn hesitated, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. “I mean, obviously, Luke and Jack would be there. Probably causing some kind of disaster.”

“Oh, without a doubt,” Blanca said. “I give them ten minutes before one of them spills something on the bride.”

“Five minutes,” Quinn corrected. “And that’s being generous.”

Blanca cackled, throwing her head back. “Okay, what else?”

Quinn paused, thinking for a moment. “I don’t know. Something simple. Family, close friends. Good food, good music. No gimmicks. Just… nice. And probably in Michigan.”

Blanca hummed in thought, staring out the window. “That sounds nice.”

Quinn glanced at her quickly before focusing back on the road. “What about you?”

She shrugged, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Something similar. I don’t really have family to invite… just friends, I guess. After everything that happened, I don’t really keep in touch with them anymore.”

Quinn’s grip tightened on the wheel for just a moment. He recognized that tone—the quiet sadness she tried to mask with a casual shrug.

"Yeah, that’s true," he replied softly, his voice light but carrying an unspoken understanding. "But obviously, I’ll be there!"

Blanca shot him a teasing grin, brushing off the sadness as though it had never been there. "Oh? You’re assuming you’ll be invited?"

"Blanca, I’ve survived hours of The Vampire Diaries, Gossip Girl, and Pretty Little Liars—all because you forced me to. After enduring that emotional chaos with you, you better invite me to your wedding, or I swear I’ll show up uninvited like one of those dramatic plot twists you love so much."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Fine, fine, you’re in. But only if you promise not to let Jack and Luke ruin everything."

Quinn huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, that’s impossible. But I’ll try."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Blanca sighed dramatically. "God, imagine us at our weddings, actually dancing like we know what we’re doing."

"Miracles do happen," Quinn deadpanned.

Blanca elbowed him, giggling. "Shut up. You’re going to be so sappy at your wedding, I just know it."

Quinn smirked. "And you’re gonna cry. Like, full-on ugly cry."

"Obviously," she said without hesitation. "That’s a given."

Blanca glanced at Quinn, and they both erupted into laughter. After a beat, Quinn casually added, "If I ever get married, though... I still have no idea who I’d pick for my best man."

Blanca blinked, surprised. "What? Why not?"

Quinn sighed, shaking his head. "It’s not that simple. Luke and Jack have been fighting over it for years. And it’s been more than a year since I had a girlfriend, Blan. But they’re still at it, like it’s some weird competition, and I’m just stuck in the middle."

Blanca raised an eyebrow, her smile shifting to something more knowing. "That sounds like a nightmare."

"It really does," Quinn muttered. "I just don’t know how I’m supposed to pick."

Blanca drummed her fingers on her thighs, pretending to be deep in thought. "Well, if you’re stuck, I think you should just name me your best woman."

Quinn blinked, caught off guard. "Wait... what?"

"Seriously," she said, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Who else has stuck by your side since you moved here? Who stayed by you when you were grumpy after bad games? Who tolerated your terrible taste in books? Plus, I’m the only one who can keep Luke and Jack from burning the place down."

Quinn stared at her for a beat, then chuckled. "You know what? You’ve got a point. You’d probably be the only one who can handle those two when they are together. But my taste in books is amazing, just so you know."

Blanca rolled her eyes, letting his last comment slide. "Then it’s settled. I’ll be your best woman."

Quinn grinned, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. You’re officially my best woman. But you better keep my brothers in check."

Blanca gave a mock salute. "Oh, I’ve got this. Don’t worry about it. I know them well enough to blackmail them into submission."

Quinn was taken aback for a moment, then snapped his head back and laughed heartily. "Sometimes even I’m afraid of you. You crazy latina," he said with a grin. "Although, I’ll need one more favor..."

"Oh, what now?" she teased.

"You have to let me play my sad country playlist at my wedding," he said, completely serious.

Blanca stared at him in disbelief. "What? No way, Quintin! You can’t be serious."

"Those are my favorite songs, Blanca," he said with a slight pout.

"Nope," she shot back firmly. "You’re not subjecting people to that. Your wedding isn’t a sad country song marathon."

Quinn groaned, but there was a grin on his face. "Fine. You win. But I’m still playing one country song."

"Deal," Blanca said, holding up a finger. "One country song. The rest of your playlist better be happy!"

They grinned at each other as Quinn pulled into the parking lot of the dance studio, the warm glow of the building’s lights spilling onto the pavement. He killed the engine and turned to look at her with a lazy smirk.

"Ready to make fools of ourselves?"

Blanca grinned. "Always."

And with that, they stepped out into the chilly evening, side by side, just as they always had been.

—

The sleek, modern apartment felt unusually quiet when Blanca returned home from her first week back at work. The hum of her computer screen, the soft click of her mouse, and the occasional buzz of her phone were constant reminders that life had to go on. But the first week back after an extended break, especially one spent by Quinn’s side during his recovery, had been draining. It didn’t help her mood that she was still sore from their dance lesson last week. Her legs were killing her, and her job was a pain in the ass.

Her graphic design clients were patient but demanding, and the pace at the office felt overwhelming after so many weeks of focusing solely on Quinn. Now, though, he was getting better. And she found herself overwhelmed with the weight of the world outside their little bubble.

Blanca shut the door behind her as she entered the apartment. The cool marble floors, the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows, and the soft lighting all seemed to create the same polished sense of calm. Quinn was on the couch, propped up with a cushion, his hand still in a brace but his mood lighter than it had been in weeks.

He was scrolling through his phone when she walked in, looking up with a smile as he noticed her tired expression.

“How was your week?” he asked, pushing himself up a little to sit straighter.

Blanca let out a long, exhausted sigh and tossed her bag onto the side chair. “Crazy. I didn’t think I’d miss the quiet of this apartment so much until I went back to work. I swear, I don’t remember my clients being that demanding.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “But you're good at what you do, right?”

“I am, but it’s the pace,” she muttered, shaking her head. “It’s not like when I could just...take a break and work on other things. I’ve been caught up in designs for days, and the deadlines are starting to stack.” She threw herself onto the couch beside him. “I didn’t realize how much I needed time away from all of it.”

Quinn shifted, turning his phone face down. He’d always been someone who showed his appreciation through actions—whether it was doing something for her or offering little gestures of thanks. But today, he felt like he needed to put things into words, something he rarely did. And for some reason, now seemed like the right time.

“I get it,” he said softly, giving her a sympathetic look. “But listen, you’ve been carrying a lot lately, haven’t you?”

Blanca paused, turning her head toward him. There was something in his voice—something different—that made her pause. Normally, Quinn would have given a teasing remark or distracted her with a joke. But today, his tone was serious, sincere.

“I’ve been carrying a lot of things for a while,” she admitted quietly. “And this week felt like a reminder of how hard it can be sometimes.”

Quinn smiled, but it wasn’t the teasing smile she was used to. This was soft, almost apologetic. “I know it’s not easy…And hey, I’ve been doing better, right?” He paused, then added, his words measured, “I thought we could take the weekend and get out of here for a bit. Go hiking.”

Blanca blinked, surprised. “Hiking?” she said, her voice full of disbelief. “You’re seriously asking me to go hiking?”

“Why not?” He shrugged, trying to sound casual, but the underlying sincerity in his voice was clear. “You’ve been working hard all week, and I’ve been stuck in this apartment. You could use a change of scenery.” His eyes held a mischievous twinkle, but there was something more genuine beneath it now. “Besides, I think you owe me. You’ve been forcing me to go to therapy and actually do the things on the hobby list. I deserve a little payback.”

Blanca stared at him, a mix of disbelief and curiosity. “You're trying to get me out of the apartment to go on a hike as payback for forcing you to go to therapy?”

Quinn’s grin softened, and he leaned back into the couch, giving her a more open, vulnerable look. “Exactly. But, honestly, it’s also a way for me to thank you.”

She tilted her head, surprised by the shift in his tone. “Thank me? For what?”

He met her gaze, his eyes holding hers for a beat too long. “For being here. For everything you’ve done. You didn’t have to take all that time off to be with me. You could’ve stayed at work, kept your routine, but instead, you were here, making sure I didn’t lose it completely. I know it wasn’t easy. I know I was snappy at times. And I don’t say it enough, but I’m grateful. More than you’ll ever know, Blanca.”

Blanca felt her breath catch in her throat. She hadn’t expected him to say anything like that. Quinn was the type of guy who showed his appreciation through small, silent gestures rather than words. But here he was, actually saying it—being vulnerable in a way she hadn’t seen before. It caught her off guard, and for a moment, she was unsure of how to respond. The sincerity in his voice made the air feel thick with something unspoken between them.

Her heart fluttered, and she quickly averted her gaze. “Quinn…” she started, her voice soft. “You didn’t have to—”

But he cut her off gently, his hand moving to rest on her shoulder as he gave her a small, reassuring squeeze. “I wanted to. I know I’m not great at talking about this stuff, but I appreciate you. I really do.”

Blanca’s pulse quickened, the unexpected tenderness in his voice making her feel something she wasn’t prepared for. She had always seen Quinn as her friend—her best friend, even—but there was something in the way he was looking at her now, something deeper, that made her pause.

To deflect the unexpected intensity of the moment, she chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, if this whole hockey thing doesn’t work out, you could always become a therapist. You’ve got the touch.”

Quinn’s lips curved into a teasing smile, but there was still that warmth in his gaze. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But seriously,” he continued, his voice dropping slightly, “I mean it, Blan. You’ve been a real lifesaver.”

Blanca swallowed, her heart still racing. She tried to shake off the strange new feeling creeping up on her, but when Quinn's hand shifted slightly, massaging her shoulders with his good hand, she froze for a moment. The warmth of his touch made her pulse quicken, and she instinctively tensed before forcing herself to relax.

It was nothing like the drunken kiss they’d shared years ago, that awkward, sibling-like kiss after the Vancouver Chucks Christmas party, where they’d both laughed it off as a mistake. No, this felt different. More…real. As if the tension between them had shifted into something else entirely.

His hand was gentle, massaging the stress from her shoulders, but his touch felt heavier somehow. She caught her breath, feeling a flutter of heat run through her veins, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond.

“Okay, okay, you’re good at this,” she finally said, her voice a little breathless, trying to ignore the heat creeping up her neck. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Quinn.”

Quinn smirked but kept his touch gentle. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

But something in his eyes held her there, and Blanca, despite herself, couldn’t look away..

—

Blanca adjusted the straps of her backpack and exhaled, glaring at the uneven dirt path ahead. The towering evergreens were picturesque, the crisp mountain air refreshing, and the sunlight filtering through the branches was nothing short of beautiful. If it weren’t for the possibility of bugs crawling on her at this very moment, she might have admitted that this wasn’t completely terrible.

But there was something else making this hike harder than expected.

Or rather, someone.

Quinn walked ahead of her. His dark curls peeked out from under his cap, slightly damp from exertion, and the snug fit of his t-shirt did nothing to hide the solid muscles beneath it. His broad shoulders, strong back, and those damn thighs—thick and powerful, flexing with every step—were unfairly distracting.

Blanca swallowed.

Since when was she noticing Quinn’s thighs?

She had seen him in workout gear a million times before. Hell, he practically lived in compression shorts during the season. But out here, in the middle of the forest, in his fitted hiking gear and the sun highlighting the veins running down his strong forearms, he looked… different.

Focus, Blanca!

She shook off the thought, but the heat creeping up her neck betrayed her. This was Quinn. Her best friend! The same guy who used to steal the last slice of pizza just to mess with her. The same guy who once kissed her at a Christmas party years ago and immediately made a face like he’d just licked a lemon, declaring they had zero chemistry.

So why the hell was she looking at him now?

Blanca gritted her teeth and picked up her pace, determined to push the thought away.

Quinn glanced back at her and smirked. “What’s with the face? You look like you’re contemplating murder.”

“Because I might be,” she shot back.

He chuckled, waiting for her to catch up. “Come on, admit it. This isn’t that bad.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Give me five minutes. I guarantee I’ll have at least two mosquito bites, and then we’ll talk.”

His smirk deepened. “I’ll personally carry you back down the mountain if that happens.”

Blanca crossed her arms. “With what? One good arm?”

Quinn grinned. “Fine. I’ll leave you for the bears.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile pulling at her lips. He looked lighter today—more like his old self. And despite her initial complaints, she had to admit… it was nice to be out here.

They walked in silence for a while, the only sound being their footsteps on the trail and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. Blanca was just starting to enjoy the quiet when Quinn let out a slow breath.

“Therapy’s been…interesting.”

Blanca glanced over at him. He wasn’t looking at her—his gaze was focused straight ahead, his expression unreadable. It wasn’t like him to bring this up on his own.

“Yeah?” she said carefully.

He nodded, running his good hand through his hair. “I fought it at first. You know that. But…” He hesitated, letting out a quiet chuckle. “Turns out, talking about your problems doesn’t make them disappear, but it does help make them feel a little less… impossible.”

Blanca softened. “That’s progress.”

Quinn shrugged, stepping over a tree root. “I guess I didn’t realize how much pressure I put on myself. How much of my life I’ve spent thinking ten steps ahead, stressing about where I’ll be in five, ten years. Whether I’ll still have a career, whether I’ll have done enough, whether I’ll—” He stopped, shaking his head as if frustrated with himself.

Blanca frowned. “Whether you’ll be enough?” she finished quietly.

Quinn halted mid-step.

For a second, he didn’t say anything. Then he turned to her, something raw and vulnerable flickering in his expression.

“Yeah,” he admitted, voice lower. “Something like that.”

Blanca exhaled, her chest tightening. “What does your therapist say about it?”

Quinn smirked, though there was no humor in it. “That I need to stop trying to control everything. That life isn’t a game where I have to plan ten plays ahead just to survive.” He let out a slow breath. “That if I keep living that way, I’m going to wake up one day and realize I never actually lived at all.”

Blanca’s stomach twisted.

“That’s… really good advice,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” Quinn muttered. “Easier said than done, though.”

They walked a little further, the silence between them heavy but not uncomfortable. Then Quinn turned toward her again, tilting his head slightly.

“What about you?” he asked.

Blanca blinked. “What about me?”

He smirked. “How’s the boyfriend hunt going?”

Blanca groaned. “Jesus, Quinn.”

“What?” He laughed, nudging her with his shoulder. “You told me months ago you were finally ready to start dating. That you were past all the—” He hesitated, his voice softening. “—the stuff with your stepdad. And you wanted to find someone.”

Blanca sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m trying. I went on a couple of dates, but I don’t know. It’s hard.”

Quinn watched her carefully. “Hard how?”

She exhaled. “Hard to trust. Hard to open up. Hard to even want to put myself out there like that.”

She hesitated, then, before forcing herself to admit the real truth. “And honestly? I can’t even think about sex.”

She expected him to joke, to tease, but he didn’t. Instead, he just studied her, like he was actually listening.

“That makes sense,” he said simply. “You went through a lot, Blanca.”

She swallowed. It wasn’t often that people really acknowledged it.

“I just…” She hugged her arms around herself. “I don’t know how to move past it. How to be normal about it.”

Quinn’s gaze softened. “You are normal.”

She huffed a quiet laugh. “You know what I mean.”

They stood there for a long moment. Then Quinn did something unexpected.

He reached out and, with his good hand, squeezed her shoulder gently—just enough to ground her. Just enough to remind her that he was here.

And Blanca felt it.

The warmth of his palm. The slow, comforting pressure. The way his fingers lingered for just a second too long before he pulled away.

She swallowed, her pulse skittering in her throat.

Since when did this feel different?

Since when did Quinn touching her feel like… something?

“Maybe you don’t have to force it,” Quinn murmured. “Maybe it’s not about trying to be ready all at once. Maybe it’s just about… letting things happen when they’re meant to.”

Blanca stared at him.

There was something in his voice—something careful. Something unspoken.

And suddenly, she wasn’t just noticing his thighs or his arms anymore. She was noticing the way his dark eyes softened when he looked at her. The way his lips curved ever so slightly, like he was waiting for her to say something.

She swallowed hard.

“Since when do you give such good advice?” she asked, voice a little unsteady.

Quinn smirked. “Since therapy.”

Blanca forced a laugh, but her pulse was still racing.

This was Quinn—her best friend.

So why the hell did it suddenly feel like so much more?

– 

Blanca paced back and forth in Quinn’s luxury apartment, phone pressed to her ear, her heart still racing from the hike earlier. She needed answers. She needed help.

The line barely rang twice before Bella picked up.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Blanca didn’t even bother with pleasantries. “I think I’m going insane.”

There was a pause. “…Okay, but like, is this a normal Blanca ‘I hate humans’ kind of insane or an ‘I just committed a crime’ kind of insane? Because I need context before I react appropriately.”

Blanca groaned. “Neither! It’s—” She stopped, dragging a hand through her hair. “It’s Quinn.”

Bella’s pause was even longer this time.

Then, like the absolute menace she was, she let out a loud, exaggerated gasp. “Oh my god.”

Blanca winced. “No. Don’t ‘oh my god’ me. That’s not—”

“You like him.” Bella’s voice was smug.

“I do not!” Blanca snapped, immediately defensive.

Bella burst out laughing. “Babe. You called me two seconds into a crisis because of him. If that’s not liking him, then what is?”

Blanca groaned again, flopping down on her bed and covering her face with a pillow. “This is bad. This is so bad.”

“What’s bad about it?” Bella asked, way too delighted by this. “Quinn’s hot. He’s smart. He treats you better than any other man in this city. Oh, and let’s not forget—you’ve literally been living with him.”

Blanca groaned louder. “That’s the problem. We’ve been friends for so long, and now suddenly, I’m—” She waved her hand wildly in the air, despite the fact that Bella couldn’t see her. “Noticing things.”

Bella snorted. “Like what?”

Blanca sat up, gripping the pillow. “Like how his arms are stupidly big. Or how his thighs are just—rude. Or how he looks way too good in a freaking hiking outfit. And worst of all?”

Bella gasped dramatically. “There’s worse?”

“Yes!” Blanca hissed. “I felt something when he touched me today. And not in a ‘we’re best friends, this is totally normal’ way. In a ‘holy shit, I might be attracted to Quinn Hughes’ way.”

Bella screamed.

Blanca immediately pulled the phone away from her ear. “Jesus, Bella, calm down!”

“I KNEW IT!” Bella howled. “I CALLED THIS YEARS AGO! BROCK! BROCK, GET OVER HERE!”

Blanca’s eyes widened in horror. “NO—DO NOT INVOLVE BROCK!”

Too late. She could already hear Bella yelling at her boyfriend, Brock Boeser, in the background.

“BABE! GUESS WHAT? BLANCA FINALLY REALIZED SHE’S IN LOVE WITH QUINN!”

“I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH QUINN!” Blanca shrieked.

Brock’s amused voice rang through the speaker. “Took her long enough.”

Blanca wanted to die.

“Bella, I swear to God,” she hissed. “If you don’t shut up, I will personally fly to your house and strangle you.”

Bella was still cackling. “Oh, babe. You know I can’t keep a secret. Why are you even telling me this?”

Blanca groaned, flopping back against the couch. “Because I thought you’d be a supportive friend and help me figure out how to stop this before it ruins everything!”

Bella’s laughter softened into something a little more sincere. “B, listen to me. There’s no stopping this. You and Quinn? It was always gonna happen.”

Blanca frowned. “That’s ridiculous.”

“No, what’s ridiculous is that every single person in our friend group knew before you did,” Bella said smugly. “There were bets, Blanca.”

Blanca nearly choked. “WHAT?!”

“Oh yeah. Jack bet it would happen last year, but I said it would take you at least another hockey season. I knew you two were blind, but damn, I didn’t think it would take this long.”

Blanca was going to pass out. Or maybe throw herself off the nearest balcony.

“Bella,” she said through gritted teeth, “I need you to promise me you won’t tell anyone else.”

“…Define promise.”

Blanca screamed.

—

Quinn had always loved Blanca.

Not in the way people assumed, though.

Not in a way that ever made him question things before.

It was just… Blanca. His best friend. His person. The one who had been in his life for over seven years, through every high and low, through every moment of absolute chaos and quiet. He loved her the way you love the person who knows your worst days and stays anyway. The way you love the person who never lets you drown alone.

But now?

Now, sitting next to her in this pottery class, watching the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the way her brows pulled together in focus, the way her lips curled in satisfaction when her hands worked the clay into a vase—he was realizing with something close to panic that he might be starting to love her in a very, very different way.

And Quinn had no idea what to do with that.

Because this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Blanca was his Blanca. She was the one who dragged him to therapy and made him take his healing seriously. The one who moved in with him after his injury without hesitation. The one who stood by his side even when he was at his absolute lowest. She had always been strong—so strong that sometimes Quinn felt like she carried the weight of the world, even when she didn’t have to. And he adored that about her. He adored her.

But now?

Now he was noticing things he shouldn’t be noticing.

Like the way her hair caught the light, strands shining under the warm glow of the studio.

Or how the curve of her smile made something tighten in his chest.

Or how her laugh—soft, genuine, so completely Blanca—made his entire body warm in a way he did not want to analyze.

Quinn forced himself to focus on the sad excuse for a clay bowl in front of him, trying to shove down the realization clawing its way to the surface.

Nope. Not happening. This was fine. He just needed to get through this class without doing something stupid.

Blanca, completely unaware of his spiraling, glanced over at his clay with an amused look. “Are you murdering it or shaping it?”

Quinn scowled. “It’s clay. How the hell am I supposed to know?”

She smirked, hands moving effortlessly over her own piece. “You have to be patient. You can’t just force it.”

Quinn shot her a dry look. “That sounds like my therapist's advice.”

Blanca laughed, bumping her shoulder into his. “Maybe because it is.”

And Quinn?

Yeah. He was screwed.

Because he’d never had trouble being this close to her before. Never had a problem with the way she nudged him or leaned into him when they joked around. Never once thought twice about the way she invaded his space like she belonged there.

But suddenly, all of it was different.

Suddenly, his entire body was hyper aware of her.

And when she turned to him, smiling like she always did, something inside Quinn tilted.

She must have noticed something off in his expression because her smile softened, her voice quieter when she asked, “You okay?”

Quinn swallowed hard, forcing himself to nod. “Yeah.”

It wasn’t a lie.

But it wasn’t the full truth, either.

Because Quinn had always loved Blanca.

But now?

Now he was falling.

And for the first time in their friendship, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself.

—

Quinn was losing it.

He wasn’t the type to freak out.He played in front of thousands of people. He led a team. He had dealt with injuries, losses, and the crushing weight of expectations.

But this?

This was Blanca.

And he was freaking the hell out.

He didn’t even think—he just grabbed his phone and called the one group chat he usually muted unless absolutely necessary.

Jack 💀, Luke 🦦, Quinn 🙄

The FaceTime rang twice before Luke’s face popped up first, slightly confused but not overly concerned. “Hey, what’s up?”

Then Jack’s face joined, looking like he had just woken up from a nap, his hair a mess. “This better be good, man. I was having a dream where I won the Hart Trophy, and I swear—”

“Guys,” Quinn cut him off, voice urgent. “I think I’m in love with Blanca, and I’m going to die.”

There was silence.

Then—

“Oh, finally,” Luke said with a knowing sigh, rubbing his face.

Jack, on the other hand, howled with laughter. “Oh my God. Oh my God. This is so good.”

Quinn scowled. “How is this good? I’m spiraling! This is bad! This is—this is the worst possible—”

Jack ignored him completely, grinning as he turned to someone off-screen. “Anja, babe, get over here! Quinn’s having a crisis about Blanca.”

A muffled laugh came from Jack’s side before a voice—Anja’s, Quinn assumed—responded, “Oh, this I need to hear.”

Quinn groaned. “This is not a joke. This is—”

“You’re in love with your best friend and don’t know what to do about it?” Luke finished, unimpressed.

“Yes! Because it’s Blanca! We’ve been friends for seven years. And I—I can’t lose her over this.”

Jack smirked. “Or maybe you just finally pulled your head out of your ass and realized what literally everyone else knew would happen.”

Quinn blinked. “What?”

Luke sighed again, shaking his head. “Dude, we all knew. Our entire family knew. Her friends knew. My girlfriend knew. Hell, even Jack’s dumb ass knew—”

“Hey!” Jack cut in, offended.

Luke ignored him. “—you and Blanca were always going to end up here.”

Quinn felt his stomach drop. “No. No, that’s—”

“Yes,” Jack interrupted. “Yes, it is. You’ve been obsessed with her since, like, forever. You just convinced yourself it was some kind of special friendship love, when really, you’ve been down bad since the moment you met her.”

Quinn opened his mouth to argue, then closed it, realizing he had nothing to argue with.

Because… maybe Jack wasn’t entirely wrong.

Luke leaned forward, eyes serious. “Quinny, listen. What’s actually freaking you out?”

Quinn let out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “I just—I don’t want to screw this up. I don’t want to lose her. Blanca… she deserves everything. Someone who can show her love in every way possible. She’s been through so much, and she deserves to be cherished. And I—” He exhaled sharply. “I don’t know if I can be enough.”

For once, Jack wasn’t smirking. He was quiet, watching him closely.

Luke, the annoyingly wise youngest brother, spoke first. “Quinn. The fact that you’re even thinking like that? That’s why you are enough.”

Jack nodded, a rare moment of sincerity in his expression. “Dude, you’re the best guy she could ever find. And let’s be real, you already show her love in every way. You just didn’t realize it.”

Quinn swallowed. “But what if—”

“Quinny,” Luke interrupted. “You love her. She loves you. You guys are just stupid.”

Jack grinned. “Exactly. And honestly? This is way more fun for me than watching Luke be disgustingly in love with Thea.”

From Luke’s side, a voice—Thea’s—called out, “I heard that, Jack!”

Jack only cackled.

Quinn sighed, shaking his head. “So, what do I do?”

Jack leaned back, looking smug. “Oh, you’re sooo far gone, dude. Just accept it.”

Luke smiled, softer this time. “And stop thinking about what she deserves and start realizing you already give it to her.”

Quinn barely had a second to process his brothers’ words before another voice chimed in from the background—Thea’s, calm and knowing.

"Once, a wise man told me: if you start believing you only deserve love and kindness if you prove it every day, it’ll eat you alive. Maybe you should listen to this."

Quinn’s stomach dropped. Because he had said that.

To Thea.

Around a year ago, when she was struggling with self-doubt, convinced that because she was older than Luke, because she had baggage, because she wasn’t perfect, she somehow had to earn the love Luke gave her so freely. Quinn had told her those words because, to him, it was so obvious.

Now?

Hearing them said to him felt like getting hit in the chest.

The call went quiet for a second. Even Jack didn’t say anything—he just watched, eyebrow raised, like he was waiting for Quinn to get it.

Luke, leaned forward. “You got this Quinn.”

Quinn exhaled sharply. His head was spinning.

Thea spoke again, softer this time. “You told me that, because you saw my worth so clearly, Quinn. Why is it so hard to see your own?”

Quinn opened his mouth, then shut it.

Because it was different when it was him. Because Blanca deserved so much, and he—

Oh.

Oh.

Maybe… maybe they had a point.

Maybe he had been doing to himself exactly what Thea had done back then—convincing himself that love had to be something he earned instead of something he just deserved.

Maybe Blanca already knew who he was and still chose to be here, just like Luke had chosen Thea, not because she had to prove anything, but because he wanted to.

Jack clapped his hands together, shattering the silence. “Well. I think that’s enough wisdom for one night. Now, Quinn, stop panicking. And if you’re still freaking out, go make out with Blanca and deal with it later.”

Jack barely had time to smirk before there was a loud thwack from his side of the call.

“OW! Anja!”

Anja’s voice came through, unimpressed. “That’s what you get for being an idiot.”

Luke snorted. Thea chuckled under her breath. Quinn just sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

Jack grumbled, “You guys are so ungrateful for my genius advice.”

“Jack, I will personally hit you again if you open your mouth one more time,” Thea deadpanned.

Jack scoffed. “Oh, shut up, Miss. Old Enough to be His MILF.” But then he seemed to reconsider. Pretty quickly. “…Actually, you know what? I will shut up. You’re in the next room with Luke, which is way too close for comfort. And you’re on your period, which means you’re even more bloodthirsty than usual.”

There was a beat of silence. Then—

Thwack.

“OW! Seriously?!” Jack yelped.

Luke sighed dramatically. “Dude, you had that one coming.”

Thea’s voice was flat. “Let’s see if you still have something to say after I really hit you.”

Quinn exhaled, shaking his head, but for the first time since making this call, he wasn’t completely spiraling. His brothers were annoying as hell. His family was loud, chaotic, and absolutely relentless.

But maybe… that was exactly what he needed.

—

The kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma of Molho de Carne, the savory Portuguese beef stew that Quinn had once taught Blanca to make, and now, it was her turn to prepare it for him. Quinn stood at the counter, his hand in a brace, leaning against it with his weight shifted slightly forward, his body still restless. Blanca moved around him, her movements fluid and practiced as she worked with a quiet focus, but Quinn couldn’t help but watch her. It was hard to ignore the shift that had happened between them these past few weeks—the quiet, unspoken change that lingered after each day they spent together.

“So,” Quinn began, his voice light but laced with that dry humor they both loved, “how’s the stew looking this time? You’re not planning to ruin it again, are you?”

Blanca shot him a playful, sideways grin. “It’ll be perfect this time,” she replied, but the teasing glint in her eyes matched his. “Unlike your ‘amazing’ attempt last time. Remember that?”

Quinn scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “That was your fault, not mine. You distracted me with all your... fangirling over Matt Rempe. The New York Rangers, Blan. Really?”

Blanca snorted, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Oh, please. I can’t help that the only thing I enjoy in hockey is hot guys.” She flashed him a teasing grin before continuing. “And I know you’re not that guy, Quinn. But even you have to admit—Matt Rempe is eye candy.”

Quinn let out a short laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly. He’d be lying if he said a bit of jealousy didn’t flicker through him, but deep down, he knew Blanca was just messing with him. “Yeah, that’s why you love being at every home game, right? Who are you watching there?”

His voice was casual, but there was a hint of challenge in it. He knew he was pushing the limits a bit, hoping for something, maybe a reaction. A glimpse of how much she cared—or didn’t.

Blanca’s grin faltered just for a moment, but she recovered quickly, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Oh, you know, just the hockey players,” she said with a shrug, but there was a teasing twinkle in her eyes. “They’re all pretty easy on the eyes, don’t you think? I just get lost in their talent... mostly.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow, leaning a little closer as he crossed his arms. “Talent, huh? Or is it something else you’re getting lost in?”

Blanca’s eyes flickered to his, and the playful energy between them shifted, crackling in the air. She could feel the change, that thin line between friendship and something... more. Something neither of them had fully explored before.

She took a step back, trying to maintain the banter, but her heart was racing. “I’m just saying, I’m all about appreciating good looks and skill. What’s the harm?”

“Well, for one,” Quinn said, stepping closer, “I’ve been pretty patient with you, watching you gawk over every ‘hot’ player in the league. But now? I’m starting to think maybe I’ve been the one you should be watching.”

Blanca let out a quiet laugh, though her pulse picked up. “Oh? You think you’re the one who should be the focus of my attention now?”

“Maybe. I’m just saying—I deserve a little more of your attention than some guy who’s three years younger than you.”

Blanca’s breath caught in her throat, surprised by his sudden boldness, but she couldn’t deny the flutter in her chest. She tilted her head, meeting his gaze with a playful challenge. “You think you deserve my attention, huh? What’s so special about you?”

Quinn smirked, his eyes darkening slightly as he took another step closer. “Well, for one, I’m the one who taught you how to make this stew. So maybe you should appreciate that, too.”

Blanca’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she crossed her arms, leaning just a bit into him. “Hmm, you might be right,” she said, voice soft but laced with flirtation. “But I’m also thinking that I’ve learned a lot from you in other areas. Like... how to handle your ‘world-class’ attitude.”

Quinn’s lips twitched, a mix of amusement and something more dangerous in his gaze. “World-class, huh? Maybe I’ll show you what else I can handle.”

Before she could respond, he was there, stepping so close that there was barely an inch of space between them. His breath was warm against her skin, and she could feel the tension between them rise, a pulse of electricity in the air.

Blanca swallowed, suddenly aware of how much she didn’t want to pull away. Her heart raced, her body instinctively leaning into him. The playful teasing had been fun, but this? This felt like something else entirely.

“Quinn—” she started, but her words faltered when he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tentative kiss.

It was brief, just a taste, but it sent a shock through her, and before she could think, her hands were already at his chest, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, his lips more insistent now, and in an instant, all the unsaid things between them—the years of friendship, the quiet nights, and the fleeting touches—collapsed into this one moment. Despite the brace, his injured hand found its way to her waist, gripping her with a need that matched her own, as if he couldn’t quite control the surge of heat between them.

Blanca didn’t fight it. Her hands slid to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the dark, tousled mess of his hair. He smelled like pine and something deeper, a hint of his cologne mixed with the faint scent of fresh air from their earlier walk they did together in the park. His body was solid against hers, the broadness of his shoulders and the lean muscle beneath his T-shirt undeniable. She could feel his pulse beneath her fingertips as their kiss grew more desperate, more urgent. His lips were soft but insistent, moving against hers with a hunger that startled her—he wasn’t holding back, not now.

Blanca let out a soft gasp when his lips left hers, his breath harsh in the space between them. He was leaning in again, his eyes dark, his expression a mixture of need and disbelief at what they’d both let slip past the point of no return.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, before pulling her into another kiss, this time with even more intensity, more urgency. It was as if he couldn’t get enough—like he was starved for this, for her. His lips were demanding and unrelenting, pulling her deeper into the storm they’d started.

Blanca lost herself in it, her hands gripping his shirt, her body pressing into him with the same desperate energy. 

—

The air in the kitchen was still thick with the remnants of their kiss, but both Quinn and Blanca knew they needed a break. They pulled apart, a silent agreement passing between them as they finished the rest of their dinner, the conversation light and awkward, avoiding what had just happened.

After they cleared the table, neither of them spoke about what they’d just shared. But the tension between them was undeniable—like an electric current that ran just under the surface.

Blanca had barely set foot in the living room when Quinn reached for her again, his fingers grazing her wrist gently but insistently, pulling her back toward him. The kiss was immediate, their mouths finding each other with an intensity that had been building for months, maybe longer. She melted into it, her body responding in ways she didn’t understand, but neither of them pulled back this time.

Without thinking, they moved together—Blanca letting Quinn lead her toward his bedroom, his hands never leaving her as he guided her. They stumbled inside, a breathless mess of urgency and anticipation. The door clicked shut behind them, the room suddenly feeling too small, the space between them shrinking with every kiss, every touch.

“Blanca,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, though his heart was racing. “We don’t have to… I mean, if you’re not ready, we can stop. I’d never—” He swallowed, searching her face. “I just want you to feel safe.”

Blanca’s eyes softened, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, holding on as if trying to ground herself in the moment. For a moment, she didn’t speak, her gaze tracing the lines of his face—the familiar curve of his jaw, the concern etched into his brow. He was so careful with her, always had been. And that was exactly why this felt different.

“Quinn,” she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. “You’re not that man. You’ve never been that man in my life.” She lifted a hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin. “What happened… it’s still there, yeah. It probably always will be. But you? You’re the one who’s made me believe I can let someone in. That I want to.”

His breath hitched, relief and something deeper flooding through him. He leaned into her touch, his forehead resting against hers. “I just need to know you’re sure,” he whispered. “Because I want you, but only if it’s right for you.”

Blanca smiled, a small, real thing that broke through the tension. “I’m sure,” she said, her voice gaining strength. “With you, I’m sure.”

“Before we… I need to know. Are there lines for you? Things you don’t want, or—” He paused, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his thumb lingering on her cheek. “I’d never hurt you. You know that. But I need to hear it from you.”

Blanca’s breath caught, her fingers tightening on his shoulders. For a second, the past flickered behind her eyes—her stepfather’s shadow, the years of locking herself away from trust, from touch. But Quinn wasn’t him. Quinn was the one who’d sat with her through nightmares, who’d waited patiently until she was ready to let him closer. She exhaled, steadying herself, and met his gaze.

“No hardcore stuff,” she said, her voice clear despite the flush on her cheeks. “Nothing too rough—none of that choking shit. That’s… that’s a no-go for me.” She swallowed, then softened, her lips curving into a small, almost shy smile. “But I—” She hesitated, glancing away for a beat before looking back at him, a spark of heat in her eyes. “I actually like a little dominance. A little… push, you know? When it’s you, it feels good. Safe.”

Quinn’s eyebrows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his face before it melted into something warmer, more intent. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice dropping lower, testing the waters. “You want me to take the lead?”

Blanca nodded, her fingers sliding up to tangle in his hair. “Yeah. I never thought I’d feel that way after everything. I thought I’d always be too scared to let go, to want someone to… to lead, you know? But with you—” She leaned closer, her lips brushing his as she spoke. “With you, it’s okay. I trust you. So if you want to, you can. I want you to.”

That was all the permission he needed. Something shifted in Quinn’s eyes—respect still there, but now laced with a hunger he’d kept reined in for too long. He surged forward, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was deeper, fiercer, his hands sliding up her back to pull her flush against him. She gasped into it, her body arching instinctively, and he took the cue, guiding her backward until her knees hit the edge of the bed.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured against her lips, his tone a mix of command and care as he pressed her down onto the mattress. His hands were firm but not forceful, one sliding under her shirt to grip her waist while the other braced beside her head. “You say stop, we stop. Always.”

“I know,” she breathed, her hands tugging at his shirt, pulling it up and off in one fluid motion. “But don’t stop yet.”

The room hummed with tension, the kind that had been simmering between them for years, now boiling over. Quinn stood just inches from Blanca, towering over her with a presence that seemed to fill the space between them. His tall frame loomed, his jaw tight, his eyes dark as they held hers, searching for any trace of hesitation. He reached out, his hand firm under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. The air felt thick, charged, as if the very world was holding its breath.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, laden with a quiet command that sent a shiver through her. His thumb brushed her lips, tracing the outline of her mouth in a way that made her pulse race.

Blanca swallowed, the words barely a whisper as she met his gaze. “Completely.”

That was all he needed. His control slipped away, replaced by a raw hunger that surged between them. He closed the distance, crashing his mouth to hers in a kiss that was all heat and fire. His lips moved hard and deliberate, as if he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t claim her fast enough. His tongue swept in, tasting her, savoring her, and she melted into the kiss, her hands fisting in his shirt as she kissed him back just as fiercely.

The world around them seemed to vanish—there was nothing but the feel of his body against hers, the burn of his kiss, the heat building between them like a slow storm. His groan rumbled into her mouth, sending a shiver down her spine. He deepened the kiss, tilting her head to take more, his teeth grazing her lower lip before soothing it with a slow, wet press that had her gasping against him.

Minutes passed in a haze of kissing—hard, then soft, then hard again—until Blanca’s lips were swollen, breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She pulled back, her chest rising and falling with every shaky breath, and Quinn’s eyes darkened, his expression filled with a fierce desire that only intensified the heat pooling in her core.

“This needs to go,” he muttered, his voice rough, each word filled with urgency as his hands slid to the hem of her sweater. He yanked it over her head in one swift motion, tossing it aside like it was nothing, and then his hands slid down the sides of her body, pausing at the clasp of her bra. With a quick flick of his fingers, he released it, and the garment fell away. Her breasts spilled free, and for a moment, Quinn just stared, his gaze devouring her as his chest rose and fell with the effort to stay in control. A low growl rumbled in his chest.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with desire. He cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, sending a wave of heat through her that made her arch into his touch. The sensation was almost too much, yet she craved more. He squeezed gently, then firmer, rolling one of her nipples between his fingers, watching her face, savoring the way her breath hitched. His mouth followed the path of his hands, trailing kisses from her mouth to her jaw, then down her neck. He kissed and sucked at her collarbone, and then lower, pausing just above her breast to look at her with a teasing smirk before taking her nipple into his mouth.

Blanca moaned, her hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. Quinn switched to the other side, giving it the same attention, nipping and sucking until she was squirming beneath him, her body trembling with need.

“Your turn,” she panted, her voice husky, her breath ragged as she pushed at his chest.

Quinn hesitated, letting her take control for just a moment, standing back as she reached for his shirt with eager hands. Her fingers were shaking slightly, betraying her nerves, but her eyes were filled with determination as she yanked it off, revealing his broad chest, the muscled lines of his abdomen, and the faint scars that told of battles fought and won on the ice. Her fingers traced over his chest, the heat of his skin sending sparks of desire shooting through her. She ran them over his abs, feeling the taut muscles flex beneath her touch before they dipped lower, her fingers halting at his jeans.

She hesitated there, but Quinn gave a slight nod, his voice a low rasp. “Go ahead.”

Her fingers moved with growing confidence, undoing the button of his jeans and sliding the zipper down. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, and her breath caught in her throat. She let her gaze travel over him for a moment, taking him in, her lips parting as a sly smile curved her mouth.

She wrapped her hand around him slowly, stroking him with tentative, deliberate movements, testing the weight of him in her palm. Quinn’s head tipped back with a rough exhale, his jaw clenched as he groaned, his hands covering hers to guide her pace, tightening her grip as he hissed in pleasure.

For a moment, he let her play, savoring the feel of her hands on him, but then he pulled her hand away, his mouth crashing down on hers in a kiss that was filled with urgency. His body pressed her back toward the bed, and she complied, lying down as Quinn climbed over her, his weight sinking onto her, keeping her pinned beneath him.

He didn’t strip her jeans off just yet—he was in no rush. Instead, he pressed himself between her thighs, still clad in denim, and ground his hips against hers, the rough fabric creating a friction that sent shocks of pleasure racing through her. She gasped, her legs instinctively wrapping around him, pulling him closer, desperate for more. Quinn smirked against her mouth, his movements deliberate and slow, grinding his hips harder against hers, teasing them both with the sweet, slow burn of desire.

“Gonna take these off now,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear before he kissed her again—deep, sloppy, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as he sat back slightly, his hands sliding down to peel her jeans and underwear down her legs, leaving her bare beneath him.

Blanca’s body was on fire, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. Quinn settled back between her thighs, skin on skin now, and he slid a hand down her stomach, pausing just above where she wanted him. His eyes never left hers, dark with desire as he hovered just above the place she ached for him most.

“Tell me what you need,” he growled, his voice a low rumble.

She gasped, her hips bucking toward his hand, desperate. “Touch me,” she pleaded, her voice strained, raw with need.

Without hesitation, he obeyed. His fingers slid lower, circling her clit with slow, deliberate circles, the pressure firm but tender, each stroke sending a spark of heat racing through her. She was already wet, and Quinn groaned at the feeling, slipping one finger inside her, then two, curling them deep as his thumb kept working her.

“Fuck, Quinn—” she moaned, her back arching, her hands clutching his shoulders as her body shook with the overwhelming pleasure he was giving her. He didn’t stop, increasing the pace, thrusting his fingers in and out, deeper and harder, his eyes locked on her face as she unraveled beneath him.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with pride, kissing her again as she gasped and moaned against him. “Let me feel you.”

Quinn’s lips lingered just above hers, his breath hot and uneven as he kissed her again, deep and consuming, his tongue tangling with hers in a way that left her dizzy. His fingers were still inside her, two thick digits pumping steadily, curling just right to hit that spot that made her toes curl. Blanca’s hips rocked against his hand, chasing the pressure, and he smirked against her mouth, pulling back to watch her writhe beneath him.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growled, voice low and rough with approval, his free hand sliding up her body to cup her breast again. He squeezed, thumb flicking her nipple, then pinched it lightly, rolling it between his fingers as she gasped, the dual sensation of his hand between her legs and on her chest lighting her up. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes—God, yes,” she moaned, her head tipping back into the pillow, hands gripping his shoulders as he worked her higher. His fingers thrust deeper, faster, the slick sound of her arousal filling the room, and then he added a third, stretching her just enough to make her breath catch. His thumb pressed harder on her clit, rubbing tight, relentless circles, and she shuddered, her thighs clamping around his wrist.

“Stay still,” he ordered, his tone firm as his other hand left her breast to grip her hip, pinning her to the mattress. He leaned down, kissing her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark before trailing his lips lower. His mouth found her breast again, tongue swirling around her nipple, then closing over it with a firm suck that sent a jolt straight to her core. He grazed it with his teeth, teasing, and she whimpered, her body arching despite his hold.

“Quinn—fuck, I’m close,” she panted, her voice breaking as the heat coiled tighter inside her. He didn’t let up—his fingers curled harder, thrusting with a rhythm that was almost punishing, his thumb relentless on her clit. His mouth moved to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, licking and sucking until her moans turned desperate, her nails digging into his skin.

“Look at me,” he commanded, lifting his head to meet her gaze, his eyes dark and piercing. “I want to see you when you come.” His voice was a low rumble, masculine and unyielding, and it pushed her closer, the weight of his stare as intense as his touch. He shifted his hand, angling his fingers deeper, pressing his palm against her clit now, grinding it with every thrust, and she couldn’t hold back.

“Quinn—” Her cry broke off as her climax hit, a sharp, overwhelming wave that had her shaking, her walls clenching tight around his fingers. Her vision blurred, body bowing off the bed as pleasure ripped through her, and he kept going, drawing it out, his hand steady and unyielding until she was gasping, oversensitive and trembling beneath him.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his tone softening as he slowed his movements, easing his fingers out of her with a gentleness that contrasted the intensity of moments before. He kissed her lips, soft and lingering, then her forehead, his hand sliding up to cradle her face as she caught her breath. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along her cheek, his touch tender now, grounding her as she came down.

Blanca’s chest heaved, her body still buzzing as she looked up at him, a dazed smile tugging at her lips. “You’re… really good at that,” she managed, voice shaky, and he chuckled, low and warm, pressing another kiss to her mouth before resting his forehead against hers.

Quinn’s breathing was still heavy, his hand resting lightly on Blanca’s hip as he watched her come down from her high, her cheeks flushed and eyes hazy. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender, and leaned in to kiss her softly, a quiet check-in after the intensity. Pulling back, he met her gaze, his voice low and steady. “You ready for more?”

Blanca nodded, her lips parting as she caught her breath. “Yes,” she said, then hesitated, a flicker of nervousness crossing her face. “But… I want to try something first.” She shifted, sitting up slightly, her hands fidgeting in her lap as she looked at him, vulnerable but determined.

“Anything,” Quinn said, his tone warm, encouraging, though his brow furrowed slightly with curiosity. “What is it?”

She swallowed, glancing away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I’ve never… I want to suck you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t really know how. I—I’ve never done it, not really. Not by choice.” Her words faltered, and she took a shaky breath. “My stepfather… when he—when he hurt me, he forced me to. I hated it. It’s why I’ve never tried since. But with you… I want to. I just need you to show me.”

Quinn’s jaw tightened, a flash of anger darkening his eyes, and Blanca saw it—the way his fists clenched briefly, the muscle ticking in his cheek. She knew that look; it wasn’t aimed at her, but at the man who’d stolen so much from her. For a second, she thought he might say something, let that fury spill out, but he didn’t. He exhaled sharply, reining it in, his focus shifting back to her. This wasn’t about him—it was about her, about giving her what she needed. He reached out, cupping her face gently, his thumb stroking her cheek.

“You can tell me anything, Blanca,” he said, voice firm but soft, grounding her. “Anything you want to share, I’m here. And if you want this, I’ll make it good for you. I’ll show you—step by step. It’s your choice, always.” He paused, searching her face. “You sure?”

She nodded, a small, nervous smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. I trust you.”

“Okay,” he said, a hint of warmth breaking through the intensity in his eyes. He shifted, sitting back against the headboard, legs spread slightly, his cock still hard and waiting. “Come here,” he beckoned, patting the space between his thighs, his tone taking on that commanding edge she liked. She crawled over, settling in front of him, and he reached for her hand, guiding it to wrap around his base. “Start slow. Just get used to it. Touch me first.”

Blanca’s fingers tightened around him, stroking tentatively, and he let out a low hum of approval. “Like that,” he said, his hand resting over hers, showing her the rhythm. “Now, when you’re ready, use your mouth. Lips first—just the tip. No rush.” His voice was steady, patient, though the heat in it betrayed how much he wanted this.

She leaned in, hesitating only a second before pressing her lips to him, soft and experimental. He groaned quietly, encouraging her, and she grew bolder, taking the head into her mouth, her tongue brushing against him. “Fuck, that’s good,” he rasped, his hand sliding into her hair, not pushing, just resting there. “Suck a little—yeah, like that. Use your tongue too.”

Blanca followed his lead, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked, her tongue swirling around him, tasting him. It was clumsy at first, unsure, but his low moans and the way his fingers tightened in her hair spurred her on. “You’re doing so fucking well,” he praised, voice rough with restraint. “Take more if you want—just what feels right. Breathe through your nose.”

She did, sliding down further, her lips stretching around him, and he guided her gently, his hand steadying her head. “Good girl,” he murmured, hips twitching slightly as she found a rhythm, bobbing slowly, her hand working what she couldn’t fit. The power of it—the way he responded, the way she controlled his pleasure—started to feel good, reclaiming something she’d thought was lost forever.

But Quinn’s breathing grew ragged, his control slipping, and he tightened his grip in her hair, voice firm. “Okay, Blanca—stop now.” She pulled back instantly, lips wet and eyes wide, and he exhaled hard, steadying himself. “I want to finish inside you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument but still soft with care. “This was perfect—better than perfect. You don’t know what you do to me. But I need you now.”

She nodded, a flush of pride mixing with anticipation as she wiped her mouth, meeting his gaze. “I liked it,” she admitted quietly, and he smiled, pulling her up to kiss her deeply, tasting himself on her lips without hesitation.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he murmured against her mouth, his hands sliding to her hips. “Ready for me?”

Quinn’s grip was iron on Blanca’s hips as he maneuvered her into position, pulling her astride him with a rough tug that left no room for hesitation. His broad frame dominated the space beneath her, muscles taut, his cock hard and pressing against her as he held her there, suspended just above him. His eyes—dark, commanding—locked onto hers, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re mine right now,” he said, voice low and gravelly, a statement, not a question. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” Blanca breathed, her hands braced on his chest, fingers curling into the solid muscle there. His smirk widened, a flash of masculine satisfaction, and he didn’t wait—he yanked her down, impaling her onto him in one swift, deep thrust that stole her breath. She gasped, her body stretching to take him, and he growled, a primal sound of approval as he filled her completely.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, his tone sharp, hands clamping tighter on her hips as he started to move. He thrust up hard, setting a rhythm that was slow but forceful, each roll of his hips deliberate, claiming. “Don’t look away.” She obeyed, caught in his stare, the intensity of it pinning her as much as his hands did. His fingers dug into her skin, guiding her to ride him, lifting and dropping her with a strength that left her no choice but to follow.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotions as he watched her, taking in the way her lips parted, the flush spreading across her chest. He shifted one hand, gripping her ass to angle her just right, driving deeper, hitting that spot that made her whimper. “Move with me,” he commanded, and when she faltered, he slapped her thigh lightly—not hard, just enough to sharpen her focus. “Like that. Harder.”

Blanca moaned, her hips rocking to match his pace, and he rewarded her with a rough groan, his other hand sliding up to her breast. He squeezed, firm and possessive, thumb and finger pinching her nipple until she arched into him, a soft cry escaping her. “That’s it,” he said, voice dripping with control as he thrust up again, relentless, his gaze never wavering. “Take it. Show me you can handle me.”

Her breaths came in pants, her body trembling under his guidance, and he slid his hand between them, fingers finding her clit with precision. “You don’t come ‘til I say,” he warned, rubbing tight, slow circles that made her thighs quake, his thrusts growing harder, more insistent. She squirmed, overwhelmed, but he held her steady, his grip unyielding. “Stay with me, Blanca. Look at me.”

“Please—” she gasped, her voice breaking, and he smirked again, a glint of triumph in his eyes as he felt her tighten around him, teetering on the edge. “Not yet,” he growled, slowing his fingers just enough to keep her there, dangling, his hips snapping up with a force that shook the bed. “Beg for it.”

“Please, Quinn—let me—” she pleaded, her nails digging into his shoulders, and he relented, his tone shifting to a rough command. “Now. Come for me.” His fingers pressed harder, his thrusts deepened, and she shattered, her climax hitting with a sharp cry, her body clenching around him as she shook, eyes still locked on his.

He didn’t hold back—watching her fall apart pushed him over. With a guttural sound, he gripped her hips bruisingly tight, slamming up into her once, twice, then burying himself deep as he came, spilling inside her with a low, possessive groan. His eyes stayed on hers, fierce and unblinking, claiming her in that moment completely.

When it was over, he didn’t soften immediately—he pulled her down onto his chest, still inside her, his arms wrapping around her with a firm hold. “You did so good, Blan,” he murmured, voice quieter now but still filled with raw emotions, as he pressed a hard kiss to her forehead. His hands loosened, stroking her back once, twice, a gentleness breaking through as he let her settle against him, their breaths syncing in the stillness.

The air settled around them. His breathing was slowing, his hands shifting from their earlier firmness to a softer touch, one arm wrapping securely around her waist while the other traced lazy circles along her spine. He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, his lips brushing her sweat-damp skin, and she nestled closer, her cheek resting over the steady thud of his heartbeat.

For a moment, they just lay there, the silence comfortable but charged with unspoken words. Quinn shifted slightly, tilting her face up with a gentle hand under her chin, his eyes searching hers—soft now, but still carrying that quiet strength she’d always known. 

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and warm, a thread of concern woven through it. “Everything we did… was it alright? Did I overstep anywhere?”

Blanca’s lips curled into a soft, satisfied smile as her fingers traced lightly over his chest. She met his gaze, shaking her head. “No,” she murmured. “You didn’t overstep. It was perfect.”

She hesitated, her breath hitching as she searched for the right words. Then, with quiet certainty, she leaned up and kissed him—slow and tender, pouring everything she felt into it. When she pulled back, her voice was softer, more vulnerable.

“I was so afraid to admit this, but I love you, Quinn. I’ve never felt this way before—like I can just… let go and be safe. With you guiding me, making me beg… I love it. I want to be good for you.”

His eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering before something deeper, warmer took its place. He exhaled, a soft sound of relief and adoration, then pulled her closer, his fingers threading through her hair as he cradled the back of her head.

His eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering before something deeper, warmer took its place. He exhaled, a soft sound of relief and adoration, then pulled her closer, his fingers threading through her hair as he cradled the back of her head.

“Fuck, Blanca,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion as he kissed her again, slow and unhurried, like he wanted to memorize the feel of her. “I love you too. More than you know.” He let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against hers. “And that’s what scared me. You’re my best friend. The most important person in my life. I was so fucking afraid of losing you, of screwing this up. But I can’t pretend anymore. I don’t just want you in my life—I want this. Us.”

His thumb brushed along her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen. She smiled, a little shy now, and burrowed into the crook of his neck, breathing him in—the familiar scent of him wrapping around her like a safety net.

“I’ve never wanted this with anyone else,” she admitted, her voice muffled against his skin. “Never thought I could. But with you… it feels right. I like when you take control. It’s… freeing.”

Quinn exhaled softly, his grip on her tightening. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I love guiding you. Watching you let go, knowing you trust me that much—it’s insanely hot.” He adjusted slightly, pulling the blanket higher over them, tucking her securely against his chest. “We’ll figure everything out tomorrow, I promise. But for now, just let me hold you.”

She nodded, sinking into him as his hand settled on her hip, grounding them both.

“Rest now,” he whispered, his fingers combing through her hair. “I’ve got you.”

And as she drifted off, wrapped in his arms, she knew—deep in her bones—that he truly did.

[foreignjaykay]

company (a jungkook fic)

part one - "you wish i'd miss you,"

company - a jungkook fic

can we keep each other company?

their workplace was chaos, but jungkook made it fun. their camaraderie was effortless—until he decided to leave. no big deal. people quit all the time. so why does it feel like everything is about to change?

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: r18+ (angst, fluff) minors do not interact!

chapter warnings/misc: workplace!au, coworkers!au, event planner!jk, event planner!oc, jk is not famous, angst, fluff, sad, crack, event planner!mingyu, bts in event planning company, unserious friend group, they are so silly and unserious, mean boss - yeah no she sucks, ANGST, IDIOTS both of them, yeah i guess thats it...for now hehe

notes: hello everyone!!! hehe its my first fic on tumblr and my first ever jk fic so i really hope you guys like it. im writing after so many years so please ignore mistakes eh. its kinda based on my personal experiences. things will only get interesting as this fic progresses.. lots of new characters will come in the next chapter! this fic will honestly pick up its pace from the second chapter!! anywho lets get into it!! <3

moodboard • playlist • series masterlist

The first thing you saw when you unlocked your phone this morning was a text from Jungkook. That in itself was weird—he wasn’t the type to be up this early, let alone texting people.

jaykay (work) [8:50am]: hi :)

you [8:50am]: oh my god. what did you forget?

jaykay (work)  [8:51am]: have some faith in me. i was texting for something entirely different. 😒

you[8:51am]: are you sick? held hostage? blink twice if you need help.

jaykay (work) [8:52am]: how da hell are u so dramatic in the morning

you [8:52am]: come to the point jungkook

jaykay [8:52am]: fine. 🙄 don’t bring lunch today

you [8:53am]: why?

jaykay (work) [8:53am]: lunch is on me. taking you, shane and mingyu out for ramen

you [8:53am]: 🤨🤨🤨

jaykay (work) [8:54am]: see you in office🥰

You squinted at the screen, trying to process the words through your morning haze. This man barely made it to work before noon on most days, always breezing in with an iced americano and a sheepish grin. And yet here he was, awake and making lunch plans at 9 AM? Suspicious. Very suspicious.

It’s fixed, you know? Him being late to work, getting sarcastic remarks from the bosses - Natasha, the reporting manager (god did she love micromanaging the team) and Kim Song, the director of your company.

But whatever, free ramen was free ramen and, on that note, you finally woke up and went to get ready for the weird day that was ahead of you.

By the time you got to the office, the usual chaos had already begun. Natasha, wasn’t physically present today, thank the lord for that, you thought, but her presence loomed over Zoom calls like a dark cloud. You had barely set down her bag before her laptop screen lit up with an incoming call. Does this woman ever chill?

“Good morning, team,” Natasha’s clipped voice rang out as the screen loaded. “Let’s go over the deliverables for today.” Her screen was hidden and she was on a holiday like she had very explicitly mentioned the week before she left.

You suppressed a groan as you saw Jungkook and Mingyu joining the call too. Shane, their CS intern, looked half-asleep. Jungkook, though, was oddly quiet, his usual playful banter nowhere to be seen. His leg bounced under the desk, fingers drumming against the tabletop.

You shot him a look, but he didn’t meet your eyes.

Okay that was weird, wasn’t it?

You looked towards Mingyu and Shane to see if they noticed Jungkook being a little off today but to your surprise they were engrossed on what Natasha was instructing on the upcoming event which was the luxurious Cartier dinner.

Classic Natasha, putting her work on us while she sips on pina coladas on the beach after this 10-minute meeting. You wanted to be as carefree as her sometimes, how easily she just threw her tasks on others.

Throughout the meeting, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Jungkook which thankfully he didn’t notice.

Or at least that’s what you thought.

Jungkook knew you. He knew how curious you got sometimes and he also knew currently the wheels were turning in your head wondering why he was being so awkward. He smiled internally, thinking how much you knew him and how much he was going to miss you.

If you kept looking at him like that, he was going to crack. He just hoped you wouldn’t figure it out before he told you himself.

Once the meeting was over, you quickly went towards the design studio in the office, greeting Yuna and So-hee who seemed like had just come to office with the way they were switching on their systems for the day.

“I really need the final design renders for the stage setup and the seating plan for Cartier, Yuna,” You said worried knowing that if you don’t get these renders in next half an hour then the costing would delay and then Natasha…yeah no.

Its as if Jungkook got a sign, he entered the design studio greeting Yuna, So-hee, and Dae and standing next to you as if to ease the tension you had going on.

“Babe, give me 10 minutes, the renders are ready. I’ll email it to you, Natasha and Namjoon,” Yuna said as she started working on her system. You nodded your head and gave her a worried smile.

“Mark me in the email too,” Jungkook said instantly and you gave him a pointed look. Yuna seemed to mirror your thoughts and raised her eyebrows towards him.

Seeing that you both were confused, Jungkook chuckles and says, “__, you should be happy that I am willingly asking to be marked on emails,” which makes you roll your eyes playfully and smirk.

“Also, I don’t have nothing big going on currently, project wise, so I’ll follow up for the costings and Natasha will stay away from my ass,” Jungkook continues and laughs with Yuna, So-hee and Dae.

You looked at him as he was sort of back in his carefree self but something still felt off. You just couldn’t put your finger on what this feeling was.

Lunch couldn’t come fast enough. The second Natasha’s second call for the day wrapped up the call, you shut your laptop and turned towards Jungkook who along with Mingyu and Shane was joking and was waiting for you to get done.

“Okay, spill. What’s with the mystery since today morning?” You immediately asked him and he couldn’t help but chuckle nervously.

Mingyu slung an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders, grinning. “Yeah, dude. You’re making me nervous.”

Shane, ever the observer, just raised a brow. “Is this about work? God I can’t wait to dig into some good ramen after hearing Natasha ramble since past 15 mins. 15 mins with her feel like 2 hours,” Shane continued rambling earning laughs from the three of you.

Jungkook let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s just get to lunch first.”

That didn’t help your growing suspicion, but you let it slide—at least until the 4 of you reached the ramen place.

The aroma of rich broth and sizzling garlic filled the tiny ramen shop. Shane and Mingyu were already practically vibrating with hunger, menus discarded, ready to order. You, however, were still scanning the options, your stomach rumbling in anticipation. Just as you were about to decide, you and Jungkook spoke in unison: “Japchae.”

A surprised laugh bubbled up. “You wanna have japchae too?” you asked, a little thrill of connection sparking despite the weirdness of the morning. He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips, and ordered for both of you.

Minutes later, steaming bowls of ramen and the shared plate of japchae arrived. The savory scent made your mouth water. You took a tentative bite of the japchae, the noodles perfectly chewy, the vegetables crisp and flavorful. It was delicious. But Jungkook just sat there, chopsticks hovering over his bowl. He had a strange expression—not quite annoyed, but… something. You knew that look. It was his tell when food was exceptionally good. That’s just his weird trait.

You took the second bite yourself to see if it was and it was really good.

“I got another job.”

Silence.

Your stomach dropped.

Then, Mingyu blinked. “Wait, what?”

Jungkook shifted in his seat, avoiding their gazes. “I got an offer from an event company. They handle production for A-list musicians—concerts, world tours, all of it.” But you could see how proud he was. This was his dream.

“Oh, shit, that’s huge,” Shane said, eyes wide and dramatically keeping his chopsticks on the side.

Jungkook looked at you trying to gauge for your reaction.

You swallowed, gripping your chopsticks a little tighter. “Wow. That’s… incredible, Jungkook.” You said genuinely but why did it feel so off? Why did it feel like you were losing everything? People leave jobs all the time and this is no different, so why was it feeling all to different suddenly?

When you congratulated him, you meant it. You really did. He deserved this. But there was a weird, hollow feeling in your chest. Something tight that you couldn’t quite name.

Jungkook was watching you and asked, “You okay?”

You forced a smile but to everyone it looked genuine. “Of course. This is a big deal. I am so happy for you, Jungkook!” Mingyu and Shane mirrored your smile and congratulated him to which Jungkook threw an honest smile.

His eyes still lingered for a second longer before he nodded, turning his attention back to his food. But you could tell he didn’t fully believe you.

Mingyu and Shane immediately started asking him the questions about his new company and the new job and Jungkook excitedly answered them all and you were interested too to know all the details.

Once the 4 of you were done with the lunch, you asked him, “So when are you telling Natasha?”

“Next week, and then 2 weeks’ notice,” He said looking at you as if he was trying to find an emotion out of you.

“Damn bro, you are leaving us so soon.” Shane said and you looked at Jungkook.

“Now at least I will have some proper desk space at the office,” You tried to joke which earned you a playful eye roll from Jungkook.

“Oh my god, I have to plan a farewell party for you now,” Mingyu joked and you laughed. For the whole lunch, this is the first time Jungkook noticed you genuinely smiling and it was all thanks to Mingyu’s dramatic nature.

The rest of the workday felt strangely off-balance. Even though nothing had technically changed yet, you felt the weight of the upcoming shift pressing down on you. The knowledge that soon, Jungkook wouldn’t be here anymore—wouldn’t be there to roll his eyes at Natasha’s ridiculous demands, wouldn’t be crashing at her desk with an iced coffee and a new piece of gossip, wouldn’t be around to share those unspoken glances when things got too absurd.

You had started hating how much that realization unsettled you.

It was Jungkook who got you out of your dazed thoughts when he said, “___, I have asked Namjoon hyung for the Cartier costing and he is working on it,”

You threw a sincere smile towards him and nodded while he went back on his desk and worked on some small projects he had going on.

gyu (work) [3pm]: are you okay?

Once you read the text, you immediately looked at him but he acted to be so engrossed in his work and you couldn’t help but look back into your phone and text back

you [3:01pm]: yeah, why?

gyu (work) [3:01pm]: you sure about that? ever since jk dropped that bomb, you have been quiet and so has he.

That got your attention. Were you that obvious?

you [3:02pm]: no nothing like that. im happy that he got this. he deserves it!! also when is the blue label bottle engraving costing going to the client? natasha has been on my ass about it since morning. send it asap please <33

gyu [3:03pm]: girl i gotta give it to you, nice attempt to change the convo but we aren’t done yet. ugh why are you my senior? im sending it in 5

By the time the day ended and finally the costings for Cartier had gone out (thanks to Jungkook and Joon), you had convinced yourself you were just being dramatic. People left jobs all the time. This wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t be a big deal.

Mingyu and Shane had already left for the day and the design studio was also empty leaving only you and Jungkook in the client servicing department. For a Monday, people had left earlier than usual, you thought to yourself.

You looked at the clock and saw it was 7pm already.

While you packed your bags, like routine, Jungkook waited for you. He dropped you home everyday given that you both lived nearby and your apartment came on the way to his.

However, the silence between the two of you felt heavier than usual.

“You’re quiet,” he finally said as the two of you entered the elevator.

You forced a laugh and adjusted your purse, trying to look anywhere but at him. “So are you.”

The two of you exited the elevator and sat in his car, he started the engine. For the first time ever, the silence between the two of you was uncomfortable.

Jungkook sighed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he took the familiar route and said, “Are you really happy for me?”

You immediately turned to look at him, meeting his gaze in the dim glow of the streetlights. “Yes, I am. Why would you think I am not?”

His smile was small, a little sad. “Alright. You and I haven’t spoken much since lunch,”

You didn’t know why, but something in your chest ached at that. But you ignored it,  and looking towards and giving him a smile and said, “Jungkook, I am so happy for you. I am. I know you wanted this and now you have it,”

For the first time in the whole day, he smiled genuinely at you.

“Will you miss me?,” He asked as he stopped the car right out of your apartment and looked at you with his doe eyes that carry the sta-

Wait what?!

You ignored whatever that thought was and quickly composed yourself and laughed at him. “You wish I would miss you,” You joked playfully and he rolled his eyes.

“On a serious note, yes I will. Who will I tolerate Natasha with?” You continued and he let out a small chuckle.

“Anyway I have to go. See you tomorrow boss,” you finally said, and then you were gone, disappearing into the building.

Jungkook sat there for a moment, staring after you.

He knew you better than you thought. He knew when you were genuinely happy, when you were just pretending, when you were holding back something you didn’t want to say. And tonight, you were definitely holding back.

Jungkook sighed, leaning his head back against the car seat. Leaving this job was supposed to be exciting, a step up, an opportunity of a lifetime. And it was.

But why did it feel like he was losing something, too?

part 2

© foreignjaykay

[ghoulishhx]

hii how ya doin! idk if anyone's asked for this yet but I'd LOVE to see nr 8 from the smut prompt list with frank!!

much much love from vienna, big fan of your work!! 🖤

8.) oops, we were just hiding in this closet, but then the close proximity get us too turned on not to fuck

heyy bestiee, im so glad you like my work mwah im obsessed with you. i really hope you like this one too!!

edit: my dumbass had this tagged as number 4 this whole time when it is actually number 8, I'm sorry for the potential confusion LMAO

18+ MDNI !!

My Masterlist!

──── ୨୧ ────

Pairing: Frank Castle x FemVigilante!Reader

Content Warning: SMUTTT, enemies to lovers type beat, fingering, squirting, oral (m!recieving), doggyy, kinda rough frank, dirty talk, praise, spanking, a little slappin' and whatnot, swearing, mutual pining

Wordcount: 3.5k

──── ୨୧ ────

✦ be quiet

“For fuck sake, what are you doing here, Castle?” you groan, noticing the dark figure in the corner of the barely lit room as soon as you enter through the fire escape. You hear him let out a deep sigh, acknowledging your presence as he turns on his heel to meet your eyes. The annoyance oozing out of his stark, chiseled features. Nostrils flaring, lips turning white from strain. As if this night couldn’t get any worse, you think to yourself.

“What am I doing here?” he lets out a laugh, as if your question was insulting. “You should be askin’ yourself that sweetheart, not me. This is my case, I don’ need to be babysitting your ass all night. Hurry on home doll, I got it from here.” you scoff at the patronising tone his words carried, anger boiling your blood as you stand staring at him dumbfounded. 

“I’m not your fucking sweetheart, Frank,” you spit at him, chest heaving with annoyance. God, did Frank Castle know how to push your buttons. “You know damn well I work this territory, scurry back off to Hell’s Kitchen before I drag you there myself.” you puff your chest out subconsciously like a fucking bird, making yourself appear big and scary when in fact the man you were trying to intimidate stood over a foot taller than you.

“Nice try darlin’,” he mumbles, shaking his head as he darkly chuckles at your feeble attempt to get him to back off. “You don’t scare me in the slightest.” He leans down, whispering in your ear. The feeling of his breath hot on your neck, causing goosebumps to erupt across the back of your neck. You take a deep breath, inhaling his scent. A mix of gunpowder and whiskey sits present in your nose and you let out a shaky breath. 

Why the fuck, how the fuck is he eliciting this reaction from you? You resent this man, the way he’d always show up in your fights, finishing your jobs with that cocky smirk across his face that drove you insane. Of course it was always bound to happen, New York is a huge city with an even huger crime rate, two vigilantes bumping into each other and sticking their noses in the other’s work is expected. But it was almost every time you were on patrol, it would always end with you and Frank at each other’s throats. You started to think he was doing it on purpose, intentionally trying to rile you up, feeding off of your uncontrollable rage. 

“Cat got ya tongue, doll?” he teases you, noticing the way your face instantly grew red at the sudden close proximity between you both.

“Shut up.” you state between gritted teeth, moving your head from his, avoiding his eyes. He chuckles, and from the corner of your eye you watch him look you up and down, the action so quick you believed you imagined it. 

“Y’know, the more we bump into each other like this.. I’m startin’ to think you’re obsessed with me or somethin’ angel.” he inches closer to you, his face so close to yours, making your heart beat so hard out of your chest you’re worried you might have a heart attack. 

“You wish Castle, dream on.” you scoff, finally turning your eyes back to his, matching his intense gaze. His pupils are blown with an unrecognisable emotion, the sight making a wave of arousal crash through you.

“Maybe I do.. Listen I-”

He’s cut off by the sound of boots outside the door of the apartment you had both snuck into. You pull away from each other as you glance towards the fire escape, thinking to yourself you could make it to the window in time before the footsteps come through the door. Before you have a chance to bolt for the exit, you feel yourself being dragged from behind, Frank’s large rough hand covering your mouth, stifling the noises as he drags you both into the closet behind you both. 

“What the fuck Frank?” you hiss, grabbing his hand from your mouth and pushing it back into him, keeping your volume low knowing you two were no longer alone.

“Shh.. won’t ya shut ya fuckin’ mouth for once. They’re coming in.” he whispers back as you hear the door to the apartment swing open. You hear at least 3 men come into the room, slurring their words and laughing amongst themselves heartily. They were obviously intoxicated. Your source told you tonight would be the best chance to hit the place as there was absolutely no way anyone would be in. ‘Thanks a lot Lieberman, last time I took your word’, you think to yourself. 

Only now do you realise how close you are to Frank, barely inches apart from one another, your chests pushed together, his hands either side of your head resting on the closet behind you, trapping you in. You feel his chest heave against yours, your breathing deep and synced with each other. He absentmindedly takes one of his hands from the side of your cheek, and brushes your hair out of your face. You two have never been as close to one another as you are now, and you take the time to analyse all of the features on his face. His furrowed brows and dark eyes staring deep into your own, his freshly shaven face enhancing his jaw line, his nose. You can’t help but let your eyes travel all over his features, taking them all in, memorising every single bump and crevice. He does the exact same, staring you down with no shame. You two were always arguing and he never allowed himself to realise how gorgeous you were, those soft plump lips, the fullness of your cheeks. His eyes rest on your lips, imagining what they taste like, how they would feel against his own. 

Without thinking, he closes the gap between you both, giving in to his desire to have you. You reciprocate, instantly becoming addicted to his taste and touch. He moves his hands down to your hips, gripping them so intensely you’re sure they will be bruised by morning. He pushes himself into you even closer and you feel his hard bulge through his jeans rubbing into you. Moving his lips from your mouth to your neck, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin, you can’t help but let out a small moan. Looking up at you, he takes one hand from your waist and wraps it around your mouth.

“Ya gotta be quiet baby, you think you can do that f’me?” he lowly whispers, his words deepened with arousal. You desperately nod your head. “Good girl.”

He carries on the assault of your neck with his rough hand clamped around your mouth, subduing any noises that attempted to escape. His free hand roams all over your body, feeling your curves through your latex purple and black suit, hungrily grabbing at you. You reach down to palm his bulge, the need for him possessing you. You hear his breath deepen as he pants into your neck at the sensation. 

“God, you don’t know what you do to me when I see you in this.” he grips at the material of your latex suit as his hand travels to your breast. “Been dyin’ to know what you feel like.. Taste like..” he trails off as he resumes kissing your neck. You moan into his hand, grinding yourself into his crotch. If you told yourself 10 minutes ago you would both be in this situation, you would’ve laughed. He was your least favourite person on earth, the mere thought of him being in your proximity other than right now made your skin crawl. That's probably why this felt so good, all that pent up emotion for one and other coming undone through each of your touches. 

All patience leaves your body in a flash, and you’re reaching down to unbuckle his belt, your movements fast but quiet, the knowledge of the three men outside the closet door mere meters away is prevalent in your mind, but you know if you can’t have Frank now you might explode from horniness. He welcomes your gesture as he begins slipping off your body suit in return, slowly peeling the fabric from your body to expose your chest and the tiny lacy bra covering your pebbled nipples. A low groan emerges from his throat at the sight, as he takes you in.

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous doll, shame ya never gave me the chance to tell ya earlier, always too busy runnin’ that bratty mouth off at me.” he whispers, flashing you his signature cocky grin in the dark. You roll your eyes and begin to offer him a remark back but you’re interrupted with the feel of his tongue swirling around your nipple, taking the bud in between his teeth and biting softly, making you jerk in a delicious mixture of pain and pleasure. You have to hold your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from screaming out his name. You buck your hips into his, chasing any sense of friction. He notices your pleas of desperation, moving one of his hands down to your panties. “Fuckin’ hell doll, you’re fuckin’ soaked.. All f’me?” he softly utters in your ear, rubbing his fingers through your folds and drenched underwear.

“Only you Frank, fuck please fucking touch me.” you hush, surprised at the words coming out of your mouth. You can’t lie to yourself anymore, you’ve wanted him this entire time. As much as you hated him, you wanted him just as bad. Frank pushes the soaked garment to the side, coming into contact with your bare pussy. His calloused fingers run over your engorged clit and you almost cum instantly. The air in the closet was thick and electrified, the energy emitting from both of your bodies was intense, the movement of your bodies so close together was addicting. He begins flicking at the bundle of nerves, as your knees begin to buckle beneath you. It takes every bit of power you can muster to stay quiet, his skilled fingers bringing you closer and closer to the edge with every swipe. He replaces his fingers with his thumb, slipping the now free digits to your entrance, rimming the opening with his middle and index. 

“Shh doll, really gonna need ya to shut up now ok? Even though all I want is to hear ya scream my name, that can wait till later.” he gives you a quick wink as he enters you with his fingers, capturing your gasps and whines with his mouth, shoving his tongue deep into your face as the two muscles dance among one another, collecting each others’ tastes. He pumps in and out of you in a bruising pace, pushing so perfectly against your songy spot. You feel your release around the corner, about to take over you until you hear a voice outside the closet.

“You guys hear that? Someone in here?”

You and Frank freeze, his fingers still inside you as he fulls his mouth from your tit, putting his hand back over your mouth, staring you down with his lust blown pupils. You stay like this for a few minutes while you hear the men shuffling around outside the closet. He begins slowly pumping his fingers inside of you again, slyly smirking as he watches you go insane. You glare at him, shooting daggers into him as he torments you, knowing the effect he has over you. 

“Nah man I think you’re goin’ insane, ain’t no one here but us.”

Your shoulders drop, visibly relieved you weren’t caught but that was too damn close. Frank begins the pace, harder and more intense this time and its mere seconds before you cum around him, your walls clamping around his fingers like a vice.

“That's it doll, let it all out. Good fuckin’ girl, stayin’ so quiet f’me.” your eyes roll to the back of your head and knees threaten to give out beneath you, but his strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you up before you crash into the wood beneath you. Despite cumming as hard as you ever have before moments ago, your arousal crashes through you, watching him remove his fingers from your pussy and take them into his mouth, sucking your release from his digits, revelling in the taste. You start reaching down to give him attention too. He can’t help but throw his head back as you move to your knees as carefully as possible to not make noise or rock the closet too much. Your face is met with his cock, impossibly thick and long, leaking pre-cum from the tip. You almost drool at the sight, and wonder how on earth it will fit inside you. You place your tongue on his tip, collecting the juices leaving his member, the salt making you salivate more. You begin bobbing your head slowly, taking as much of him in as you can. You can’t get enough as your eyes well with tears not even being halfway down. He takes his hands and laces his fingers through your hair, gripping harshly as he makes a fist with your hair. Frank begins guiding your head up and down his length, jaw slack and mouth agape at the feeling of your hot mouth around him.

“Just like that sweetheart, fuck just like that..” he darkly whispers, as if he was trying to stifle the noises erupting in his throat. He starts fucking into your mouth, pushing himself so unbelievably deep inside of you, 

“Needed to punish that fuckin bratty mouth of yours.. Fuck, the way you’ve been speakin’ t’me these weeks and you expected me not to fill it? Dirty fuckin’ girl needed a big cock to finally get her to shut up.” you moan around his cock at his lewd words, as he lands a soft slap to the side of you face. 

“If you can’t be quiet doll, imma have to stop, ya don’ want that d’ya? My little slut can’t get enough of my cock.” you shake your head, meeting his eyes with a pleading gaze because the thought of him stopping right now was not even an option for you. “That's what I thought. Attagirl” he rubs over your cheek where he struck you, contrasting from the previous sharpness with his comforting touch.

“Alright, we got what we need. Let’s go boys, boss wants us to meet him at the bar.”

The footsteps outside of the closet move through the room, towards the door as you hear the door unlocking and them pass through.

They’re gone, and you and Frank are now alone, his cock still twitching in your mouth.

You look up to him and smile around his girth as he smiles back.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he exhales, relieved, grabbing your elbows from your side and pulling you up to match his height. “I don’t know if I could’ve handled fuckin’ ruining ya in here, unable to hear you scream my name.”

He steps out the closet, taking his gun in his hand to make sure there was no one outside. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, his messed up hair, flushed cheeks, clothes rustled as he steps out with his hard cock first and jeans undone. 

“It's all clear doll, come out.”

You leave to join him, as you peel the rest of your suit off of you while stepping towards him. He takes you in a firm embrace and pushes his lips on yours as he sheds the rest of his clothes. Running your hands all over his toned chest, feeling every indentation of his abs as he does the same, cupping your breasts and kneading them like dough while fucking your mouth with his tongue.

“Bend over the couch f’me doll, be a good girl yeah?” you nod, turning away from him as you push yourself down the arm of the couch, wiggling your hips at him. He lets out a primal groan, the sight sending him over the edge. You feel a harsh slap ring across your ass. You yelp in pain laced with pleasure as he slaps you again once more, followed by a couple more. Your breaths are hiccuped, as you whine and push your ass into his crotch, dying for any sense of friction.

“God dunno how much I’ve been wantin’ to do that, spank this perfect ass for all the times you’ve misbehaved. What’s up doll, cat got ya tongue?” he says, reaching down to cup your jaw and angle your face towards him.

“‘M sorry sir, I’ll be good from now on, I swear.. Please Frank I need you so bad.”

“Need me to do what, sweet thing? Use ya big girl words f’me yeah? Know ya can.”

“Fuck Frank, please. Please just fuck me. Need to feel your big dick inside me- oh!” your words are cut off as he pushes himself fully into you, the stretch of your walls burning so good as he gets situated inside of you.

“Fuck darlin’ you’re so fucking tight. I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin ya.” he begins thrusting into you with a harsh and passionate pace, his heavy balls smacking off your clit. Pleasure coarses through your veins, the feeling unlike nothing you have experienced before, with either yourself or anyone else. His tip repeatedly kisses your cervix with every thrust. The noises erupting from you are sinful, you shamelessly cry out as he grips onto your hips, keeping you firm in place.

“Fuckfuckfuck Frank right there don’t stop don’t you fucking stop. ‘M so close.. Fuck please ohmygod.” you say through strangled sobs, your moans are borderline pornographic. 

“Let it all out babydoll, milk my fuckin’ cock. It’s all yours darlin’” he reaches down to your engorged bud, flicking it hurriedly. It’s not long until your release, forcing his cock out with the sheer power of your pussy clamping and the long stream of squirt leaving your sex. 

“There she goes! Atta-fuckin-girl doll, mess up that pretty pussy.” he replaces his fingers with his tip as he rubs it across your throbbing clit, prolonging your orgasm for as long as humanly possible, feeling the gush of your sweet release on his cock. “Fuck doll, you look so perfect cummin’ for me.”

He pushes his cock back inside of you, grabbing your hair into a fist, pulling you back as you arch further into him. “My fuckin’ girl, who does this pussy belong to sweet girl?”

“You sir, all you. I’m all yours.” you say through strangled sobs, putting your hands beneath you to balance yourself.

“Damn fuckin’ right it is princess. You belong to me.” he growls as his pace quickens, chasing his own release. It’s not long before his thrusts begin to falter, as you feel his dick twitch inside of you.

“Fill me up sir, please I wanna feel it. I wanna feel you.”

“Don’ have to tell me twice, every drop of my seed belongs in your sweet cunt. Ya gonna be feelin’ me for days baby girl.” Frank groans, dropping his hand full of your hair to your hips, as he grips you in his large hands drilling into you. You wish you could’ve somehow recorded the noises he made when he emptied himself inside of you. You could’ve sworn you heard him whimper along with saying your name and chanting curses like a prayer. The feeling of his member throb and twitch inside of you is something you never want to forget. 

Reluctantly after a few minutes, he removes himself from you. He stands back as he watches your mixed juices flow from your hole, evidence of the previous events dropping onto the hardwood floor beneath you. He can’t help but push his finger back inside of you, forcing his cum back. Your overstimulated pussy weeps with the action, making you whimper once more.

“You look so pretty, stuffed full’a me.”

He pulls away and places a kiss to your shoulder as you turn onto your back, sprawled out naked for him, your lips flushed and swollen from his kisses, hickeys beginning to form on your neck and your dripping hole instantly make him hard as a rock once more, after fully unloading himself in you minutes prior. You notice, and offer him a playful grin, moving your hands back down to your sex, swirling the juice with your fingers. He lets out a groan at what his eyes are seeing.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl, just got stuffed to the brim but still needy? I’ll take care of ya doll, let Frankie take care of ya..”

You fucked three more times that night, all over the apartment. Luckily the drunkards who forced you into this predicament were long gone, probably passed out in an alleyway somewhere. But you couldn’t give less of a fuck, there was only one man on your mind for the rest of the night.

Frank fucking Castle.

──── ୨୧ ────

a/n: i hope you enjoyed ml, im honestly quite proud of this one, so obsessed with frank dirty talkingg it makes me feral

my inbox is open!

[makismei]

(18+ somewhere randomly near the end bc my pussy took over) it is currently 2:57am and while i was writing an upcoming fic, i suddenly thought of nanami, as your underclassman at jujutsu high... not proofread (possibly incoherent) i am sorry i finished at 5am

he's two years younger than you, but he's been enamoured by you since he spoke to you back when he was sixteen on your eighteenth birthday, hosted at gojo's condo.

almost everyone was drunk, courtesy of shoko managing to get her hands on bottles of tequila and vodka. you were barely tispy, finding a completely sober nanami stuck to a wall with his eyebrows pulled together. he doesn't like it here. he wants to go home. but this is what being a teenager is like... right?

through flashing lights and loud music, you told him that cherishing your youth goes beyond what he's seeing before his eyes.

with you being a third year, he rarely saw you at the school. up close, he realizes how beautiful you are and that your perfume suits you so well.

"being a child is just fine," you say, as if you aren't only two years older. "you have your whole life to experience partying."

you end up outside on the balcony, talking all night about anything and everything.

and nanami learns, at sixteen, what uncontrollably clammy hands feel like, stuttering over simple words and the desperation for more of your presence.

since that night, he looks for you on campus when you are between missions. in the beginning, he couldn't find the courage to start conversation, but slowly, it starts to come to him easy.

over the years, he's seen you introduce your older boyfriends to your friends. he's also seen you get your heartbroken because the men that you chose to love were straight up losers.

what is he to do? clearly, you have a type and it's not him. although, he is confident he can treat you far better.

you like dark hair and tattoos, "manly" looking men but they don't even hold the door for you. what the hell is wrong with you? nanami swears, if he was yours, you'd never look back.

nanami is freshly nineteen, listening to you talk to shoko and utahime about how relationships are no longer worth your time. something inside of him feels disgusting because you're pouring your heart out and god, he just thinks you're so beautiful.

when he confesses to you for the first time, he is twenty-one and it's winter. it's been three years since your last relationship and you haven't pursued another since. he knows it's a long shot, but he goes for it anyways.

you smile, hand on his arm, "you deserve better than me, kento. but thank you, truly. i'm flattered you think of me so highly."

nanami raises a brow, "who doesn't?"

you're halfway into your door, smiling sadly. "you'd be surprised."

six months later, you're in cahoots with a horrible man and nanami thinks he's going to go bald early. why do you do this to yourself????

since his confession, he's tried to be mindful so he doesn't make you uncomfortable. but in the most friendship way possible, he tries to show you there are men (meaning: him, he is best fit for you) that are willingly to love you the way you deserve (him).

you, on the other hand, are biting your nails as far as you can, you cannot be catching feelings for nanami kento? you've never seen him in a romantic light, even after he confessed, but recently there has to be something poisonous in the air.

you blocked that douchebag two days ago because talking to him makes you feel disgusting. but you think you might unblock him to save nanami.

nanami cannot be yours, sure he's younger than you and you swore you would never date a younger man because they're so "immature", but nanami is a good... mature person. he is honest and hardworking, growing into his features and in turn, becoming more handsome as the years go by.

you'd be lying if you weren't jealous thinking about the woman that he would call his one day.

you think it's for the better. nanami cannot get caught up with your antics. he's really only seen the good sides and the thought of him seeing your bad sides makes you nauseous. he'd hate you, for sure. then what would you do?

but it doesn't matter, you don't even like him like that! but he's such a good friend you can't fathom the thought of ruining your friendship.

but what if he gets a girlfriend? you're pacing back and forth in your living room, obviously you can't be close with him anymore because that is just so suspicious.

oh my god. you're spiralling.

what do you do? you call nanami.

you tell him everything and more, that you're sorry, that you might be confused but your gut is telling you otherwise. you cry on the phone to him because you're at a loss and you feel so guilty.

nanami does not say a word or make a sound.

until, you hear a knock on your door through the phone and in real life.

"will you let me see you?" he asks, desperate. "i need to see you."

"you had me waiting for so long." he mutters, hips swinging into yours. he has you in a mating press, forehead pressed against yours. "am i making you feel good, beautiful? tell me."

you nod, legs quivering at his sides. "you're so good—i.. i think i'm gonna cum again!"

he shushes you, kissing you so deeply your mind goes blank. he starts thrusting harder and your mind is so mushy you can't even kiss him back. nanami groans, this can't be real. you feel so good that he might get addicted.

he can't let you go now that he's had a taste. he's not letting you go.

you love him. you told him in a panic over the phone.

you love him.

he needs you wholeheartedly and even though he had to wait almost eight years, he would gladly wait another eight years because if it's not you, it's no one. over the years he's loved you one-sidedly, he did a lot of thinking.

a silly high school crush ended up swallowing him whole. he was searching for you in all the blind dates gojo made him go on because gojo was convinced he was cooked and that you would not like him back.

so to see gojo's jaw dropping when you kissed nanami on the lips in the jujutsu tech courtyard, made his heart swell.

he was always yours.

you think that maybe, you've loved nanami for longer than you've thought.

"thanks for waiting for me." you breathe, "i'll make you happy."

nanami smiles, "you will always make me happy."

[starleska]

73 Yards has devastated me and i have some theories

we all agree that 73 Yards was a genre-defying, harrowing episode...and i think there's some really interesting themes and ideas going on here. tw for discussion of trauma, abuse, neglect and abandonment:

i hope we're all on the same page that the Woman seems to represent Ruby's fear of abandonment, brought to life. always present, always out of the corner of her eye, and whose primary mechanic is to drive people to scorn and leave Ruby without explanation. even people who do not know her, or people she's just met, or who are incredibly warm towards her...they speak to the Woman, and they look back as if to confirm their suspicions, and then run away, maddened and horrified. it is an unbelievable stroke of genius to make the Toymaker's breaking down of the boundaries between science and fantasy bring Ruby's abandonment into being...and for Ruby to weaponise her. but that's it - as soon as Roger ap Gwilliam was taken care of, we expected the Woman to disappear, right? but that could never happen, because Ruby's fear of abandonment will never disappear...no matter how purposeful her life is, or how much she distances herself from others. the use of the cruel, distant individuals in the Welsh pub to set up Ruby sympathetically is excellent...and then, we see people approach Ruby at all levels of emotional connection, when time and again she is considered untouchable, as if her very being is contagious. and all this time, we have the fairy circle being broken and hope vanishing...with hope being the Doctor. the one man who potentially holds the key to uncovering Ruby's deepest desires - to find out why she was abandoned, and by who. and at the end of it all...even in death, Ruby doesn't find peace. she is transported into a neverending hell-loop where she is her own abandonment. the two are inseparable, inexplicably the same, because Ruby's very existence as herself is built on the bedrock of abandonment. and i think this resonates heavily with any trauma survivor...the way that our trauma and our very real anxieties brought on by that trauma are inextricable from ourselves. i think the plot with Roger ap Gwilliam shows off a very real symptom in trauma survivors: we often daydream that our hurt and pain will be useful one day - functional. and not only does Ruby get to do that...she gets to be the quiet, unsung saviour of the whole world, protecting us from a world-ending terror in spite of the abuse and neglect she's faced. she endures menial work and constant fear, while only confiding quietly in one other person...Marti, who i believe is coded as another trauma survivor due to her response to Roger (who she describes as a monster). if Ruby can't receive love and affection from anyone else, at least she can feel satisfied that she served her purpose. on a practical level, the presence of Mrs Flood and Susan Twist in this episode AGAIN gives me pause. my theory that someone here is another of the Toymaker's Legions, and is the embodiment of Story, has only deepened. the fact that we had a cold open without the title sequence, we met Susan Twist very quickly, we seem to have flipped genres for the show and Ruby was able to embark on a self-destructive wish-fulfilment saviour fantasy in real life...it all indicates to me that the boundaries between reality and fiction are fully collapsing. when Kate says things are trending towards the supernatural lately, i think we've only hit the tip of the iceberg. on a broader level: my God Russell T Davies, what a brilliant script!!! this is one of my favourite ever episodes of Doctor Who, and is absolutely my highlight for the season. huge kudos to Millie Gibson for giving such a killer performance...i am now terribly endeared to, and protective, of Ruby, and hope against hope she gets the happy ending she so deserves 💖

[starryschemer]

Unspoken Desires

Pairing: Hwang In-ho x reader, Triangle Guard x reader Summary: A Triangle Guard's defiance is taking a turn on In-ho, the cold leader, brings you to his office. As the power struggle between you both escalates, it turns into a mix of hate and desire, leaving you to question your own feelings as In-ho shows his control. Warnings: Power dynamics, emotional manipulation, hate/desire dynamics, dark themes, sexual content, strong language, smut Word Count: 1,358

Never in your life have you been so furious, filled with hatred.

The games had pushed you to your limits, causing people to die with every twist and turn. However, today, something seemed to shift. Every small thing the front man did seemed to grind your gears more than it usually did. The way he looked at you, the way he spoke. It was like nails on a chalkboard.

You were summoned to his office. It was meant to be a routine check. He was, after all, the man pulling the strings. You were just a triangle guard in the games. Well that is at least what you thought. He was always so distant, cold, calculating. But today? You noticed that he was acting differently. It was a mixture of amusement, malice, and something that made your stomach twist.

You barged into his office, a sharp breath escaping from your lips as you locked eyes with him. His cold gaze was uneasy to look at, his posture rigid as he took a sip of whisky, casually sitting on a couch, watching you like a hawk.

“Sit,” he commanded, his voice sounded like silk, smooth but laced with an undertone of warning. Patting next to him.

You clenched your fists tightly, resisting the urge to lash out. You had every single right to be livid with him, but you learned through the years that showing any weakness in front of In-ho was a major mistake. Instead, you crossed your arms against your chest, staring bullets into him, standing your ground.

“I don’t take orders from you,” you said with defiance, you sounded stern, even if your heart was pounding heavily.

In-ho’s lips curved into a smirk, enjoyment dancing in his eyes. “Oh, but you will. They always do.”

God, you hated the way he spoke, the way his words were so arrogant, as if he owned everyone and everything. It was the smugness that made your blood boil every time you had to be near that filth.

“What is this about?’ you asked, leaning against a wall, refusing to listen to him. “You know I'm not here for your tiny games.”

In-ho’s eyes narrowed, his eyes flashing with darkness. “You think you can act like this Y/N?” sipping more whisky. “Not listening to me without consequences for your actions.”

His words hung in the air, filled with a threat that made your pulse spike for a moment. You knew exactly what he meant. In-ho had a lot of power, so much that he could easily make your life a living hell. But you weren’t going to let this intimidate you. Not now. Not ever.

“If you think I am afraid of you, you are mistaken.” you bite back, stepping closer, narrowing the space between you and him.

In-ho placed the glass down, slowly standing up. You noticed his cold mask slipping slightly as his eyes flickered with something darker, more evil like. “You should be.”

Before you had the chance to respond, he took a step towards you, closing most of the distance between you. His presence loomed over you, his build alone was enough to make anyone feel small. But not for you. Not this time.

“Do you really think you can act like this, stand here and disregard me?” In-ho’s voice was threatening, low, as he stepped even closer, his hand grabbed your wrist with a startling force.

You tensed with fury for his sudden actions. “LET GO OF ME,” you yelled, trying with all your might to yank your wrist from his firm grasp.

However, he didn’t even budge. “No Y/N. Not until you can understand that disobedience requires consequences.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, not from the fear but from the tension that shot through the air. You both knew what this was about-your defiance, his need to show you just how much power he had. This had been building for months, years even, as you clashed with him at every turn. Today, however, it would reach his breaking point.

“Stop pretending like you have any control over me In-ho,” you spat, refusing to back down.

His hand tightened around your wrist, pulling you into his chest. His voice dropped to a whisper, a dangerous rasp. “I do have control over you. And I'll prove it.”

The words jolted through your body, a mixture of anger and an unexpected need of desire. But you couldn’t-wouldn’t-let him win. Not like this.

With a sharp tug, In-ho slams your back against the cold metal wall. His body now pressed flush against yours, feeling the heat of his body, trapping you with his weight. Your chest heaved, every part of your body was on high alert.

“Let me go,” you warned, your voice low.

In-ho curled his lips into a smirk, his breath now hot against your ear as he whispered, “You think you can win?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. His lips crashed onto yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was demanding, rough, as if he was punishing you for your disobedience-and yet, you were responding despite everything. Every ounce of hatred you had bled into that kiss, each movement filled with raw emotion. You wanted him. You hated him.

The kiss deepened, much harder now, as he used his body to press you up against the wall, pinning you in place, his strength was overwhelming. In-ho’s hands roamed over your body, possessive, rough, taking what he wanted.

“Stop,” you gasped, your body betraying you. It responded to his touch, heat pooling between your legs, betraying your resentment for the pleasure coursing through your veins.

In-ho pulled back, looking down at you with a spark in his eyes. “You can’t lie like this to yourself. You want this.”

You hated him-but you couldn’t deny the desire that surged through you every time he made you feel weak under his control, every time he touched you.

Before you could protest more than you have, In-ho’s hands pulled the zipper of your jumpsuit down to your waist. “You’re mine now.” he said, a low growl in his voice, opening the space before he tore the fabric of your white shirt from your body.

You gasped, your chest was now exposed to him as he pushed you even further into the wall. There was no room for you to escape now, no room for any hesitation. You were well and truly trapped between his body and the cold concrete, and you hated that you couldn’t escape it, that you didn’t want to escape it.

His lips found your neck, biting down hard enough to cause blood as he tore the rest of your clothes away. The sheer brutality of it all made your pulse race. He was in utter control, using your body as his plaything, but the power shift was noticeable. In-ho had finally pushed you too far—and yet, you couldn’t help but want more.

“You’re nothing but a tool, you do know that right?” he muttered, his voice dark and dangerous. “But I’ll make you remember who’s in charge.”

The words stung you hard, but there was something in the way he said it, something that you want him more.

His hands were everywhere on your body, feeling you all over, spinning you around then pulling you close. You feel the very noticeable dent in his pants on your backside.

“Stay still, got it.” his breath hot and heavy filled with desire, you didn’t want to fight back anymore, you wanted his touch, you craved it.

In-ho didn’t give you time to respond, quickly, he ripped his pants off, before with one brutal thrust, he took you.

The pain was as sharp as a knife, but it quickly subsided into pure pleasure, a fire that blazed between the both of you. There was no love in this-only hate. Only domination. Only power and you were losing.

“You’ll learn to obey me,” he growled against your ear as he slammed into you with a force that took your breath away. “And when you do, you’ll beg for more. I know you will?”

A/N: Hope you enjoyed my first smut fanfic, if you want more smut please request them. If you would for this fanfic to be a miniseries. Maximum 5 chapters let me know and I will happily continue with this In-ho storyline. Credits for dividers: anitalenia, strangergraphics-archive

[enchantedlov3r]

hi angel, are you doing okay? <3

I hope you're doing okay angel, ily 💗

can I request some Daryl Dixon fluff please? maybe something like, wounded Daryl comes across the reader in the forest and passes out at her cabin's door. She brings him inside and treats his wounds, she lets him rest in her cute small bed. I'll let you write the rest <3

thank you angel - lily <3

I'm getting there, all your kind words are making me cry, but I'll be fine love, thank you<3 ily more🎀

Can be found in masterlist as: Saviour

"ah fuck!" daryl grunts out holding his side. a arrow hit him when he was trying to take out these men.

he was out on a walk just to think, maybe hunt and find something to bring back to alexandria but he ran into these assholes.

he got hit, and now he's bleeding out and lazily taking out walkers trying to find his way back home.

he comes across this house though, but it looks lived in. he sits on the porch for a second and then he feels tired so all of a sudden he falls over and he's out like a light.

you were cooking when you heard a thump outside. scared you flinch and gasp quickly grabbing a kitchen knife.

you slowly tiptoe outside and make your way towards the door. you cautiously check all the windows and then unlock and open the door.

you gasp when you see the big brute of the man laying on your porch with blood everywhere.

"oh my god!" you drop the knife and run over to him quickly. you bend down next to him and check his wounds.

"it's too dangerous out here, let's get you inside." you say trying to communicate with the unconscious man.

you drag him inside with whatever strength you seemed to conjure up and rested him on your couch.

you run to the bathroom and get some medical supplies you've found or stolen(killed to get.)

you lift his shirt and pry off his vest. your treat the scar that has now formed on his skin. you stitch him up until he's good as new.

you smile at your work and clean up the blood of your hands and the bloody wipes.

your boiling some warm water when you hear grunting. you look over and find the strange man waking up.

"oh no no, don't move the stitches might break, p-please stay down. here, come to my room. c-can you walk sir?" you ask him trying to get him to get used to your presence.

"where the hell am I? who are ya?" he says gruffly with a accusing tone.

"i'm the girl that saved you from being walker dinner, so please just hold onto me and lemme help you, ok?" you say sweetly as you smile at him.

He grunts and let's you carry him to your room. your room is green and full of little daisys all around the room on the wallpaper.

you have little jellyfish hug on strings from the ceiling and little plushies and stuffed animals littered on your bed.

"here, lay down while I make you some tea ok?" you smile and let him lay down.

you quickly rush out and get the tea bag and put it in the cup.

you come back to the room with the tea all brewed and serve it to him.

the tea is in a cute little teacup that is placed on a plate with a side of little biscuts.

"here, bon appetit! enjoy." you say placing it on the nightstand next to him.

you sit down on the far side of the bed while you watch him scarf down the biscuits and slowly sip the tea while making eye contact with you.

"so, what's your name sir?" you ask, fiddling with your bed comforter. he looks at you and you swear you could see a tiny sideways smile.

"mhm, daryl ma'am. what's yours sunshine?" he rasps. you smile at the nickname and chuckle.

"y/n, my names y/n. nice to meet you daryl."

[preseriesdean]

if you don’t mind me asking, could you share some of your favorite fanfics or authors? thanks ❤️

oh hi hello!! yes of course!! i actually haven't read any spn fic in a while but i have spent a lot of time organizing my bookmarks. i'm going to assume that you meant samdean fic but i'll add a few non-samdean ones at the end.

authors!

@zmediaoutlet (deadlybride on ao3)

candle_beck (ao3)

@goshen-applecrumbledore (ao3)

whereupon (livejournal)

Linden (ao3)

sevenfists (ao3)

there are so many more great authors but these came to mind :)

fics!

i am going to list my forever-favorites first - the ones i would recommend to anyone and everyone, screaming-from-the-rooftops kind of love - and then many many more under the cut.

beloved by urchinesque (2016, 1.9k, NR, warning: death) It might be the gentlest thing that's ever happened to them.

in my opinion everyone should read this once. it's quick. they die. it's-- happy, somehow. beautiful. i think about it all the time.

Last Day on Earth by candle_beck (2009, 10.8k, E) A list of things to do if you only have one day to live, presented in inconvenient non-list form.

last year my best friend and i were pondering which fic felt quintessential to samdean for us and somehow settled on this one. i still agree with the choice.

Odysseus, American by coyotesuspect (2010, 10k, M) Dean finds Peter O'Toole's recording of the Odyssey in a bin marked “Audio" in Casa Grande's only used bookstore. The place smells like cigarette smoke and old books, and it reminds him of Sam. Stanford era.

my favorite stanford era fic. i think it captures dean's loneliness and desperation beautifully.

A man with his insides out and his outsides off by britomart_is (2016, 5.3k, E, time travel, underage) They say there are only two stories in the world: man goes on a journey, and stranger comes to town.

another fic i want everyone to read. it's so short and feels like a novel. sam is messed up and dean is in love and everything is miserable.

Breathing Hard by whereupon (2009, 9k, E) The day Dean figures it out.

this is so simple and yet-- everything to me. i can't think about dinosaurs without thinking about this fic, which doesn't tell you much, but you'll see. sometimes this is really all you need.

The Last Outpost of All That Is by gekizetsu (2008, 59k, E) The world ends while they’re asleep.

this fic has stayed with me my whole life. i thought about it even during my years away from spn and fandom entirely. they're alone and you don't know why and they build their life together and you end up wondering, is this hell or heaven? whenever i come across a screenshot of the last couple of paragraphs i want to cry.

see things so much clearer by deadlybride (2020, 11.7k, E) Sam's been acting oddly. Dean learns how to use the history on an internet browser and finds out why.

this is a fic that hits the spot for me personally so well. another favorite preseries fic. i love the idea of sam using livejournal, and of dean finding out this way.

Stay The Distance by lazy_daze (2011, 24k, E) Sam is dependent on Dean's touch and closeness after the wall falls - Dean's presence reminds him of why he chose to wake up, and keeps the memories at bay, allowing Sam to function.

i love enmeshment, and i love that here it's literal. i love that they're just sort of fine with it.

more fics below!

in absolutely no particular order whatsover. please check the warnings and tags on these before reading!

Recall by De_Nugis (2012, 6.3k, E) Sam's having a hard time telling what's real and what isn't, especially when it comes to some voicemails from Dean.

Living in god's blind spot by applecrumbledore (2022, 25k, E) Of all the situations Dean didn’t need his dad to see him in, ‘getting off to being pushed around by a guy’ was in the top three. And ‘a guy’ was a massive glossing-over of reality. Any guy—any other guy—would be bad enough, but Sam was fucking cataclysmic.

Almost At Home by balefully (2008, 24.3k, E) Sam graduates from high school in early June in rural Tennessee. He and Dean start the summer with an all-nighter of celebration; the day after, while both fight hangovers, John calls to assign them their first hunt by themselves.

they said it was the fall of man by jukeboxhound (2016, 7.4k, M) Sam gets his soul back on a Monday.

When I Fall Asleep It Is Your Eyes That Close by britomart_is (2009, 1.9k, E) Post-Season Two. Sam is alive. Dean is happy.

Life As We Know It by sevenfists (2007, 13.7k, M, curtain fic) On the morning that Sam woke up, Dean ran five red lights on the way to the hospital, his half-empty coffee cup sloshing in the holder.

tied up like two ships by orphan_account (2014, 3.1k, E) Dean liked to hold hands.

Gospel Truth by Cerberuss (2020, 15.2k, E, case fic) ‘DOES YOUR BROTHER KNOW THAT YOU WANT HIM?’ Individually placed letters, bold and tinged brown with the weather. Sam can’t look away and he prays, dream dream dream.

Buy You A Mockingbird by candle_beck (2011, 10.3k, M, underage, outsider pov) A genuine horror story.

because you want to die for love by hathfrozen (2021, 27.3k, E) Sam and Dean settle into their Heaven—and into each other, too.

the constant vow by deadlybride (2022, 119k, E, fem dean-ish) They've just finished up a pretty standard job and are killing time in snowy Wisconsin when Dean wakes up no longer looking like Dean. That's just the start of their problems.

This Fortress Made of Us by mickeym (2009, 10.8k, E) Sam really didn't do very well without his brother. Coda for Mystery Spot.

State of Love and Trust/As I Busted Down the Pretext by cormallen (2010, 2.9k, M) When you know exactly what your brother's thinking, there are some chances you just don't take.

Quiet with the Rain by Linden (2014, 5.3k, T) Dean can spot an undercover cop at thirty paces, a hooker at twenty, and rims that will match his baby's at ten. But the fact that his little brother is in love with him—that, he can't see worth a damn.

have a cigar by deadlybride (2020, 5.6k, E) What happened with Andy and Ansem unsettles Sam. Dean doesn't seem worried.

Heart Shaped Balloon by winsive (2022, 18.5k, E, underage) Sam and Dad are fighting. No surprise, but it's the weekend before Valentine's Day and Dean isn't missing out on the chance to bang a cheerleader just to console his bratty little brother. He does bring back a heart shaped balloon for him, though. It's not supposed to be cursed.

Bare by gracerene (2022, 2.2k, T) Of all the things Dean hasn't done before, Sam never expected something as innocuous as skinny dipping to be on the list.

Speechless by candle_beck (2008, 11.2k, T, case fic) Dean loses his voice and their rapport is only moderately impaired.

Like It Was Yesterday by nomelon (2014, 4.9k, T, fem dean, amnesia) Sam can't remember a time when Dean wasn't there. Dean is always with him. Sam's whole life, there's never been anyone else.

Like a Ghost with Two Voices by Dyed_Red (2022, 46k, E) To cure Dean from the Mark of Cain, Sam has to let Dean, in all his demonic glory, possess him for 28 days. It goes about as well as expected.

Breathe You In (Choke You Down) by orphan_account (2021, 5.9k, E, pwp) Dean really likes the way Sam smells.

lost in yesterday by margaryes (2023, 1k, NR, john pov) John hasn’t seen his youngest son in 18 months.

Unraveling by Linden (2017, 855 words, E) No, he’d said, the first time Sammy had tried to kiss him, sixteen and half-drunk and stupidly beautiful, even though he’d wanted so badly to say yes.

pack up the moon by deathdreamt (2021, 5.9k, T, pre-slash) Sam storms back out from their room, his backpack on and his duffel hanging off his shoulder and isn’t it kind of tragic that his whole life fits in two bags. He looks suddenly much younger than he is, eyes shining. John is back at his guns, whiskey at his elbow, and Dean can hardly believe how rapidly his life is cracking down the centre.

Yesterday, minnesota by applecrumbledore (2022, 30k, E, case fic) Any initial awkwardness filtered away over a hundred miles of highway as Sam thumbed through the missing witch’s diary again. Some people had secret coke habits or secret second wives, and some people had passionate, pitch black, no-kissing sex with a family member every four to six months and never talked about it. You had to find ways to cope.

All Heartless Spectres, Happiness by orphan_account (2021, 5.6k, E) Lisa Braeden receives an email with the subject line, "You Deserve to Know." It contains a single video file and nothing else. (soulless sam)

The Palm Oasis by fictionallemons (2022, 12.3k, E, underage) John strands Dean and Sam at a middle-of-nowhere motel while he investigates possible demon omens in Arizona. The place is nothing to write home about, but at least it has a pool. Dean resolves to think of this as a vacation for him and his studious little brother, but when their money runs out sooner than expected, he considers turning tricks at a nearby truck stop so he can feed Sam.

Other Brothers by homo_pink (2020, 7k, M, underage, outsider pov) A callow boy can go from infancy to someone’s lover in the space of two wildflower summers.

Leader of the Pack by astolat (2007, 14.9k, E) Teaching old dogs new tricks.

Underground Wires by eggnogged (2012, 15.8k, E, fem sam, underage) It’s hard enough being a teenage girl even without all the extra crap: they move around all the time, her family is as far removed from normal as it’s possible to get, and she’s in love with her older brother. Sam has no control on any of it, she’s just trying to stay afloat.

Multitude of Sins by Linden (2015, 4.4k, T, outsider pov) Every now and again, Jim Murphy would look up from his altar and find the Winchester boys at the back of his church.

Like Arrows in the Hands of a Warrior by ADeedWithoutaName (2018, 10.3k, E, underage, dub con-ish, john pov) John Winchester loves his boys, and would take a bullet for either of them. He knows that he's doing it right, the way he's raising them, the things he's teaching them. Not every problem, however, has an easy answer. Like what to do after an incubus case in which their target got his pollen all over both of John's sons.

You Can't Lose What You Never Had by nigeltde (2016, 5.6k, E) You can't spend what you ain't got, and you can't lose what you ain't never had.

Flagstaff by Linden (2014, 7.3k, T, pre-slash, john pov) John tracked Sam down in Flagstaff, four days after he got home to find him gone.

I'll take my chance on a beautiful stranger by fleshflutter (2007, 3.8k, M, outsider pov) If Chase were a better friend, he might try to end the game now, before Brendan loses even more money. But if Brendan is a dick at Stanford, it’s nothing compared to how he is on break.

Cupid's Got A Gun by geckoholic (2012, 13.5k, E, non-con) Fuck-or-die, set in early S4. But they've been fucking for years, so that shouldn't be a problem, right? Wrong. Ever since hell, Dean's in no hurry to get that show on the road again.

Someone Else's Blood by sevenfists (2006, 6.7k, E) The first time, of course, was an accident. (pretend dating)

How Many Floors to Realize by lazy_daze (2009, 26k, E, swesson) AU from the end of It's A Terrible Life, in which Zachariah decides to keep stringing them along a little while longer, because damn if they aren't somewhat entertaining, right?

Worthless cartography by applecrumbledore (2022, 15.6k, E) Dean didn’t know what finally made him go for it. The djinn’s dream was a catalyst, but the call was coming from inside the house, and he’d been letting it ring for a very, very long time. (They get one night together right before Sam is taken to Cold Oak. Dean has to deal with that.)

The Space Between Sense and Memory by orphan_account (2021, 4.8k, T) There are a hundred unwritten rules on all the acceptable ways brothers should touch each other. There are hardly any ways at all to break them. Or; five times they follow the rules and one time they don’t.

Ions in the Ether by nigeltde (2019, 10.9k, E, case fic) When was the last time you trusted happy.

Crossed Wires by rivkat (2015, 10.9k, E) Dean thinks Sam is dead.

Crown and Anchor Me (or let me sail away) by Sena (2010, 23.7k, E, underage) Sam Winchester is fifteen years old, at yet another new high school in yet another state, he doesn't get along with his distant, distracted father, he's figuring out that he likes guys just as much as he likes girls, his clothes never fit and his limbs ache at the joint ever since his growth spurt started, he has to study for the PSAT and, oh yeah, he's a little bit in love with his brother, Dean, who's taken a break from hunting monsters to work at a local garage for minimum wage.

Wear Him Lika a Habit by sevenfists (2008, 2.2k, M) Their first kiss isn't an accident. It's anticipated well in advance, discussed for weeks, argued over, second-guessed.

Amor Prohibido by phoenixflight (2020, 3k, M, underage) They spent the spring of Sam's sophomore year living in a shitty apartment south of San Antonio. Every Friday night the clearest channel played three hour marathons of a Spanish soap called La Casa del Corazón. There was a mutually understood truce about watching it, because the alternatives were infomercials or creepy kids’ cartoons that futzed into static every fifteen seconds.

Open Road by Mollyamory (2010, 2k, T) Sam's old enough to know what's good for him.

It's the Blueprint of Your Life by queenklu (2011, 38.4k, time travel) Sam jerks awake in the middle of the night and everything goes to hell. Well, not literally, though Dean is staring down the barrel of less than a year before his deal comes due. In the midst of dealing (or not dealing) with his impending death, a killer ghost ship, and Bela showing up out of the blue, Dean also has to figure out what’s going on in Sam’s head to make him so twitchy, why he’s suddenly breezing through this case while writing endless notes in a notebook he won’t let Dean see.

North of Wednesday by Mollyamory (2008, 3.5k, G) Sam's behind the wheel before he realizes he doesn't have the keys. Coda to Mystery Spot.

non-wincest fic.

dean/omc. We Drank a Thousand Times by glorious_spoon (2010, 43k, M, warning: death) They meet in a bar fight in North Carolina when Dean is nineteen, broke, and desperate, then again when a hunt brings the Winchesters into town a few years later. Neither one of them ever puts a name to it but every once in a while, through the years, Dean finds his way back.

dean/cas: terror & desire intertwined by rupertgayes (2022, 39k, M) Faced with Castiel suffering a fate worse than death, Dean makes the decision to let Cas use his body as a temporary vessel. All things considered, Dean thinks, it could have gone worse.

gen, sam&dean: what lasts by deadlybride (2021, 17.2k, M) Not long after they move into the bunker, Dean loses a leg. Most of a leg. After the hospital, Sam brings him home, and they figure out how to live with what remains.

gen, dean-centric: To Repair Broken Men by procrastin8or951 (2015, 3.1k, T) Dad and Sam keep fighting. Dean can't fix his family, so he fixes things around the crappy apartment they are staying in.

dean/michael: our hour came round at last by orphan_account (2015, 1.8k, NR, pwp) "I want to be inside you," says Michael, low and velvet and hungry and that really shouldn't turn Dean on but it does.

dean/lucifer, dean/cas: exploratory by sp8ce (2022, 4.9k, E, non-con) One night, Castiel proposes he and Dean have sex. Except it's a little more complicated than that.

dean/cas: for a healthy heart by Askance (2013, 2.4k, T) A strange black box appears in Castiel's bedroom one afternoon.

gen, sam&dean: charmer & gentle by Askance (2015, 3.7k, G, outsider pov) The afternoon girl calls them Big and Tall, the strangers who come in late every now and then, buying this or that. The night girl doesn't think those names fit quite right.

dean/cas, past sam/dean: whose wings, though tattered, shall carry me home by fleshflutter (2009, 2.2k, T) There is a breeze moving across the field. It stirs the long grass in lapping waves like the sea. Castiel runs his fingertips through it and remembers flying.

[bondwithme-murderstyle]

Who's The Boss? pt.2 aaron hotchner x fem!reader

wc: 1.7k

Summary: Aaron Hotchner has some time before heading to Quantico and embarking on his new position within the BAU. He decides that now would be a good time to gather some of his buddies and head off on a vacation to Miami before his life is turned on its head.

warnings: +18, mdni!! vacation setting with explicit descriptions but no physical acts (save that for pt.3), smoking because it's the '90s and this man with a cigarette is my holy grail, a tiny paragraph releasing haley from this story-line, essentially just verbal-foreplay, reader is described as having hair (???) that gets wet in the pool, definitely dom!aaron and his dirty mouth, no use of y/n, not as romantic as my dream had originally perceived him but we'll take what we can get in the moment

an: i am so sorry this had to be split up! freakin' word-limit posts

~When his friends passed you by, they gave small looks- knowing looks that made your heart race. A part of you said that it was now-or-never. To go before his friends returned and gave him hell. But as you prepared to stand and rid yourself of the towel, you glanced over and he was no longer reading. He was back in the pool and looking at you. His brow raised slightly above his frames and he lifted one hand from the water to beckon you over with two fingers.~

Your body screamed, your mind tore itself apart. But you listened. And you met him halfway.

Instead of jumping right into the water, you decided to sit on the edge, half-way between his spot in the sun and yours. Once your legs were submerged up to your knees, he made a half-attempt at swimming across. One long stroke was all it took from him to reach you and you thanked God your sunglasses remained on your face to at least hide some of your excitement. His arms held him up at the edge, his elbow brushing your thigh and it took him a moment to say anything.

“Do you always stare at strangers, stranger?”

“Only when they’re worth staring at.” You answered and swallowed thickly, supporting yourself on the pool edge with your arms polka-straight and your nails wrapping against the tile that washed and flushed with water. “You and your friends always arrange your dates like this, out in the open?”

This made him laugh and look away for a moment, “Yeah, well, they’re idiots!” His choice of words made you feel relaxed. To know that you weren’t in the presence of another idiot. “I’m Aaron. Hotchner.” His head turned to look up at you and extended his hand. You rolled your lips together and decided to just fuck it. You shook his hand politely with a gentle ‘hi’ and resumed kicking your legs gently in the water.

“So, you and your boys are down here blowing off steam?”

“Well, you could say that. It’s summer.”

“And, you don’t have a job in the summer?”

“I’m currently changing positions. Was a prosecutor. Soon to be FBI.”

“Ooh.” A purr escaped you but you remained cool, nodding and looking elsewhere. “Sounds thrilling.”

“We’ll see.” He concurred and turned to lean his back against the wall of the pool, trying to follow your gaze that never quite seemed to settle. “And you’re on vacation too.”

“Mmhmm. Seattle doesn’t get much sun like this. Figured I deserved a real summer-break.” You agreed and gave away your first clue. Your location. Not that Aaron noticed much. He instead scanned the pool-deck and relaxed when he realised his friends had become distant memories. “So, should I call you ‘Agent’?” You tried to tease him.

“Call me whatever you like.” He quipped and turned to face you again, this time right in front of your legs. Your feet ceased their relaxed kicks and his hands worked beneath the water to take hold of your calves and separate them just enough to make space for him. You didn’t know what else to do other than let him wade between your legs and look up at you with a gruff sigh, “What are the odds I’d ever see you again anyway?”

“Slim-to-none. It’s a big country, Agent.” You hummed again and tried to ignore his large hands that had now come to rest on the outside of your thighs. They engulfed your skin and left behind beads of water that cooled instantly in the soft ocean breeze. Your body continued to scream, the heat in your belly even took the liberty of giving little heart-stopping flips every time his fingers moved as he steadied himself in the water.

“So, in the interest of probably never meeting each other again; are we just going to keep on staring or are we going to do something about this, sweetheart?”

Your head stopped panning to each sound around you and you looked down at him now, a perfect position you had found yourself to be in. Sweetheart. You wanted to whine and ask to hear it again. Instead, you smiled at him and his shameless motion.

“Well, Aaron,” You shifted a little closer to the edge but remained to keep your hands to yourself, “I’m assuming that you have something in mind. What, with your friends gone and all. Otherwise you wouldn't have invited me over here.”

“I wasn’t planning to be here when they came back.” He looked up when your legs closed slightly around him, “I wasn’t planning for you to stick around either.”

“Oh?” Your smile remained, albeit a little brighter, “That’s rather presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“Forgive me, but you haven’t exactly pushed me out from between your legs since I got here," his head gestured down to the small space between your body and his chest, tongue running along his bottom lip, "In fact, you came closer. Not very presumptuous when everybody knows you want it.” Aaron rolled his lips together completely and he was waiting for you to answer. But you couldn’t. He was right and he knew it. “And we’re in a public setting. So if there was anything else you wanted to do, other than stare at me, you can’t exactly do it here, can you?”

“And you don't want to do something?”

“I can tell you in incredible detail what I’d like to do- what I will do. Hopefully, that'll convince you that I’m right?”

“But, like you said, we’re in public.”

Your counter-argument made him smile and his voice dropped lower, quieter, “And nobody around us can hear me tell you that; I can’t wait to feel you cum… all... over... my... tongue.” His face remained arrogant, his smile permanently small almost as he delivered filthy promises across the space between you. His fingers dug that little bit deeper into your flesh and caused you to gasp and hold your breath. “Nobody here knows that we’re going to go upstairs,” his digits started to drag slightly on your skin, “where I’ll taste every perfect inch of you," he purred at you and the images flashing through your mind would bear no resistance to the reality, "where I'll make you kneel. just for me on your cold room floor,” his head tilted slightly for any sign on your face that this was wrong, “and fuck that pretty little mouth that turned down my friend in favour of me.”

Your lips parted and your eyes widened slightly behind your shades. He had been reading your mind. Aaron took in a breath, leaving his proposition hanging between you both. Had it not been a public setting, you would’ve been in the water with him, eagerly tasting him and feeling those large hands elsewhere. "You'll say thank-you." He reasoned quietly, "Hopefully, you'll say it over... and over again," Aaron came close enough that you could feel his words ricochet like a pinball between your thighs and by now you were pooling, "Because, if you don't, I'll definitely remind you." A few ridiculous words and your body was thrumming, your blood raced as it pulsed through your veins. It was hard to keep your mouth from falling further open and it took every fibre of your being to keep composure by the poolside.

"I-Is that right, Agent?" You asked with a throbbing core and a weak voice, leaning closer to him.

“You’ll give me your room number... And you’ll go upstairs and wait, just as you are,” his massaging touch on your thighs was a perfect chorus to his words, tugging gently with his fingers and pulling just tight enough that you were ready to slip into the water, “for me to convince you, inch by inch.”

You gently bit at your lower lip, cheeks flushed hot and it was agreed. “1219.” You said and this was enough for him to bow his head in a subtle nod and pull away to swim back to his sun-beaten corner of the pool.

[mr-celestial-writings]

could you do Cassandra Cain headcanons with a male s/o who is the current ghost rider?

Flaming Hot

Pairing: Cassandra Cain x Male! Hell Rider! Reader

Summary: You made a bad deal, got scammed by the devil. You can keep running, keep raising hell, but every time the sun goes down, you have to answer the devil's call. Thankfully, though, that Call lead you to a Black Bat, and God Allmighty do you love her.

DC MASTERLIST

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The sound of your engine roared down the street, catching the attention of several people. Even more so was the blazing trail of flames that followed.

You had settled down in Gotham, for now at least. It was a shitty enough city, plenty of people. The Devil constantly collects his dues here, and you were his favorite soldier.

You caught a glimpse of a familiar silhouette on the roofs, following you. You smirked, and changed your trajectory. The Devil could wait, you had a date to keep.

You roared through the streets, racing towards your usual meeting spot.

It wasn't long before you came upon the warehouse. You hopped off your bike and entered, your flames taming slightly.

"I'm Here, Cass. You Don't have to hide." You called before feeling a presence behing you.

You turned around and were greeted with a familiar face. Cass removed her cowl and smiled.

"[Name]." She greeted gently.

You reached out and held her hand. Normally you would kiss her knuckles, but you decided to not risk burning her.

"What's a pretty girl like you doin in a run down place like this?" You teased gently.

"Tracking down a possible threat." She hummed, leaning against you.

"Don't you know not to follow the devil? It's how you fall from grace." You replied.

Cass laughed gently. Your heart fluttered a bit. You loved that sound. You loved her.

"I would kiss you but..." You motioned to the current state of your head.

Cass smiled, "This is fine."

You wrapped your arms around her waist, holding her close.

"You're right, it is."

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a/n: A Few Things: I would like to remind you all I am a gay man. I feel no attraction to female characters, not in the way you probably do. So If it seems I'm skimping on romance: it's because I'm just... not interested.

I do write for other female characters, and other characters and fandoms too. I will never complain about getting requests, i just... feel like I can't live up to what you want because I don't feel the same.

Also, congrats Anon, you made me read a marvel comic. Pat yourself on the back for that.