#no pressure to do it if you don't want to!

[norrisleclercf1]

Could you please do lando x reader woth reader being really clumsy and end up hurt herself

Don’t feel pressured to do this request if you don’t feel connected

Have a great day

A/N: OOoooo I've missed writing

"Max for the love of god, if you make me die again I'll-" Lando stops talking as he hears a crash from the kitchen and looks up into the camera like it was a scene in the office and sighs, "Hang on chat, my girlfriend might be destroying our home," Lando says and frog hops out of the chair and taking off the headphones.

"Baby, you alright in here?" Lando turns around the corner and stops and feels his heart stop seeing you lying on the ground with glass everywhere. "Fuck, Y/n," He says not caring he wasn't wearing shoes and rushes to your side, "I slipped," You grumble just accepting your fate not wanting to move. "You're surrounded by glass don't move," Lando says grabbing the broom and swipes a huge chunk of it away from you.

"Are you hurt?" He asks, trying to remain calm, but the panic is obvious from the way his eyes are moving around quickly. "Lando I'm fine, just I broke your fancy glasses though," You say sitting up and keeping your hand in a fist, Lando notices it but doesn't say anything in the moment, "Give me a second," He whispers kissing your forehead. Rushing back into the game room he quickly turns everything off without a second thought and doesn't even explain to Max, rushing right back to your side where you stand at the sink running cool water over your hand.

"You got hurt," Lando curses and you just sigh softly and looking at him tiredly, "It's fine, not even deep enough for stitches, just get those little strips you used for your nose," Lando makes a face, "No, I'll take a scar but you won't," Lando argues making you rest your head on his shoulder. "Lando please, it's literally a papercut,' You sigh knowing he'd continue freaking out.

You've always been clumsy, but in the way where you knock your hip, stub your toe, trip once in a while, and Lando was already protective and constantly keeping you from doing this, now he was seriously thinking about putting you in bubble wrap, maybe he should bring you to all the races to keep you from hurting yourself.

"I don't care, you could've been," Lando stops talking and you sigh and move closer into him. "Lando, I simply tripped and dropped the glasses, it's a small cut, that's it. I'm okay," You whisper reaching up with your good hand and press out the ridge between his eyebrows.

"I'll be more careful, okay," You whisper, as he turns to look at you and sigh tugging you close and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I don't like it when you get hurt," He whispers having always kept an out for you, even before you two started to date. "I know, but I'm clumsy, it's going to happen," You whisper softly. "I'm going to wrap you in bubble wrap," He groans, making you smirk, "I'd like to see you try,"

[gold-onthe-inside]

asylum

n. def. the protection granted by a state to someone who has left their home country as a political refugee

who? spencer reid (s7) x analyst!reader summary: a few months into dating spencer, you become peeved by penelope's boyfriend's constant presence at the apartment, and spencer offers a quick and easy solution. content warnings: none word count: 0.9k a/n: this was a quick little 1am fic, please enjoy

You liked your dates with Spencer, quiet little affairs, huddled in the corner of a cafe as you both swapped stories from work. You’d do your best to make your work sound more interesting than it was, and he’d do his best to limit the gore you were exposed to.

Finding quaint bookstores and hunting rare books, or buying secondhand books for the other to read. You’d always fancied more contemporary books, he liked the older classics, so trading meant expanding horizons. He had been horrified at your habit of annotating books for about five minutes, then telling you all about how Mark Twain used to do the same thing, writing in the margins of his books.

Going to foreign film festivals, Spencer whisper-translating the trickier dialogues for you, his hand laced in yours, smiling to himself when you’d nestle your head against his shoulder. This was the new normal. You were his girlfriend. He was your boyfriend.

After an awful week trying to catch a sadistic killer, Spencer was eager to spend Saturday curled up on the couch. He changed into his ‘old-man pyjamas’ as you liked to tease him, half-asleep on the couch with one of your novels propped up on his lap, when he heard you come through the front door using his spare key.

"I've gotta move out," you complained, dropping your bag on his coat stand and toeing off your sneakers before walking over to the couch. "I mean, seriously, Penelope's been bringing Kevin to the apartment almost every day, it's so weird," you said, flopping onto one end of the couch as he sat up.

“Tell me they’re not being loud,” Spencer said, grimacing a little.

"I don't want to find out," you groaned, collapsing onto his shoulder. "I really didn't think Kevin would be such a permanent fixture." It had been two weeks into dating that Spencer had found out about your distaste for Penelope’s boyfriend — knowing your best friend and roommate deserved better than some unkempt, disheveled, unhygienic (and to you, very unattractive) analyst.

"He's not that bad, is he?" Spencer asked, gently maneuvering himself to pull you onto his lap, and you let him, more than okay with physical intimacy.

“I mean, he makes her happy, I guess,” you said, pursing your lips as Spencer’s hand trailed over your arm. “And he can keep up with her intellectually, but… I dunno, I just feel like she’s settling for him.”

Spencer’s hand drifted down your side, absentmindedly rubbing your hip. “Settle is a strong word, don’t you think? I mean, she obviously loves him.”

You chewed your bottom lip. "I suppose," you agreed, reluctantly. "Either way, being around him is just... uncomfortable. And Penelope keeps telling me it's fine if I stay, but like... I don't wanna walk into the living room and see them making out... or worse." You shivered slightly at the thought of it.

Spencer chuckled, and his hand wandered back up to your midsection, massaging lightly. "Well, you are more than welcome to stay here," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "I have plenty of room."

You peered at him. "Just so I'm clear... Are you asking me to move in?"

There was only the slightest hesitancy in Spencer's voice when he finally responded. "If you wanted to. No pressure or anything, of course. But, yeah, I thought it might be nice. Living here, I mean."

You wet your lips, thinking about it. "Are you sure? I mean... we've only been dating a few months."

"What, you get sick of me already?," he asked, feigning hurt. This was a big deal that he was offering, and he desperately wanted you to say yes, but he wouldn't push the subject if you resisted. He was terrified of moving too fast.

"No! No, of course not, it's just... It's a big step, I don't want to rush into it," you said quickly. "Have you thought about it?"

Spencer smiled at your immediate denial. You didn’t have to reassure him so vehemently, but it was always nice to hear it nonetheless. He relaxed into the couch cushions a bit more, his hand moving over to play with your hair. "I have," he admitted. "I'm not necessarily in a rush, either, I just figured... it was an option."

You hummed, thinking about it. You did like the vibe of his apartment, and it was a lot closer to the station than Penelope’s place, and you always ended dates wishing you had more time with him. And you liked the mundanity of your dates, even the simplicity of lacing your hand through his while you both traipsed around Quantico’s greenery on a lunch break. The potential of moving in flashes before you — lazy Saturday mornings, breakfasts together, going to the farmer’s market on Sundays, sleeping with him more often than you did now.

“Okay,” you agreed, looking at him with a soft smile. “I wanna move in with you.”

There was a moment of hesitation before Spencer realized that you had said yes, and his shoulders slumped with relief, a grin spreading across his face. "Yeah? You're sure?" His voice was hopeful.

"Positive," you murmured, kissing him gently. Spencer returned the gesture with fervor, pulling your body a little more on top of his, his hands moving from your sides to rest on your waist. He pulled away, breathless, and leaned his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes.

"I'm moving in," you repeated, breathlessly.

"You’re moving in," Spencer agreed, his eyes bright and excited.

[kawhh]

Quinn Hughes period blurb has arrived. The soft version.

You knew there was something horrifically wrong when you felt the gentle shake of your shoulder in the morning. Q never wakes you up, especially when you don't need to be somewhere.

He's always worried you aren't getting enough sleep, he's woken you up less than a handful of times since you got together.

"Sweetheart... Sweetheart I need you to wake up.."

He sounds so gentle, slowly waking you up. Your eyes slowly blinking open, your head pounding. You swear you wanna die when they're open enough, spotting blood all over his hand. You're panicked, reaching out for him instantly, wincing as there's a sharp stabbing pain that makes you swiftly lie back down.

Your face feels like it's on fire when you realise what's happened. The way you feel the blood between your legs, a familiar feeling. How could you be so fucking stupid when you're in bed with him? You track your periods, you know when it's coming. You're usually prepared..

You can feel it all down your thighs, your underwear soaked through with the blood, can feel the wet bedsheets under you. You've never been so embarrassed in your life. You're crying the minute it sinks in, trying to flee off the bed to clean up, to apologise, to wash his sheets, fuck, buy him new ones. Anything to erase the memory of this happening.

He's gently pressing you down back on the bed with his clean hand the minute you try and put your plan into action, softly shaking his head.

"Sweetheart, you're fine, it's not a big deal. Stay here for me a sec, yeah?"

He rises off the bed, kissing your forehead as he goes, watching you as he makes his way to the en suite to make sure you aren't getting any ideas.

You can't escape the mortification when you hear the tap running, him clearly cleaning the blood off his hand. Fuck, he probably thinks it's gross. Seeing it is one thing,, but having it all over his hand?

He probably went to shift your thigh in your sleep and.. had more of a surprise.

He's stripped down to his boxers while he was in there, strolling out after a minute or two. Walking over to your side of the bed, pleased that you stayed put, placing your hand around his neck, lifting you off the bed in a bridal carry, taking you to the bathroom.

"Need you to trust me sweetheart, I'll make it better."

He's covering the bathroom counter with a towel, resting you on top, making sure you're comfortable before he's stepping back slightly, keeping his hands on your thighs.

"Stay here? I'll run you a bath while I strip the bed, alright?"

He's wiping away the tears that'd escaped your eyes, still looking at you with nothing but pure affection, trying to convey how truly unbothered he is about this.

It doesn't take him more than a few minutes to quickly strip the bed, you can tell he's trying to prevent giving you too much time to think on your own, knowing you'll overthink everything.

"Gonna get you in the bath baby, you'll feel a lot better."

Lifting you like you're fragile glass, lowering you into the middle of the tub, climbing in behind you, shushing your worried protests. He doesn't care if blood gets in the tub with him. Doesn't care if you bleed on him. He only wants you to be okay, to calm down.

He can tell the steam and hot water is making you sleepy, making you relax. You aren't squirming around as much now, leaning back into him, letting him look after you.

Whining as you feel his fingers trail down your sides, creeping towards your core. Protesting when he circles his fingers slowly around your clit, trying to bring you some gentle pressure, keeping you pinned against him as your hips slowly thrust towards his fingers.

Resting his head on your shoulder, leaving open mouthed kisses on your skin, whispering praise in your ear. Sliding one of his fingers gently into you, not wanting to overwhelm you but needing to do this for you.

Holding you tighter as you reach your soft high around him, kissing your hair as he drains the bath, moving to lift you out.

Taking his time wrapping you in the fluffiest towel from the rail, resting you back on the counter while he gets one of his hoodies and boxers for you, knowing you crave the comfort when you're bleeding.

"Almost done, baby."

He's lifting your legs slightly, giving him the room he needs to help you out, grabbing one of the tampons from the pack under the sink - he keeps supplies here for you 24/7.

You swear he's practiced somehow. He's too smooth with it, the way he even knows to tilt the applicator back instead of straight up. How he knows all the steps without reading the box - even you have to still read the box sometimes.

Kissing your thigh as he pulls back, pulling the boxers fully up your legs, sliding the hoodie over your head.

"I got you, sweetheart."

He'll be carrying you everywhere all day, doing every little thing he can for you. You need food? You need him to change your tampon again? He's here for you to use.

[summertimesadnessirl]

The problem is...

We never escaped gender essentialsm.

We just got rope a doped.

Men were like "the girls are getting liberated! Let's make liberation about peer pressure and drug assisted date rape!"

Then that meant most women went back to being anti sex for a while, so men went

"Cool, the girls want to be in charge? Let's give them all the responsibility and none of the authority!"

Then they got to do weaponized incompetence while women were so used to being infantalized that they fell right into attempts to prove themselves until it was too late and when they were emotionally exhausted they were like "have you tried submission? Maybe if you don't want all the responsibility and none of the authority you might like to just sit back and do what someone else wants with no pesky thinking or yelling at men and feeling guilty and triggering your childhood trauma by feeling like you're doing the same infantalization that was done yo you as an infant?"

And then women were like

"Maybe I can just get a job and some cats dude idk." An the girls were getting financially liberated, somehow all the hiring practices became more strict and more based on "networking" and more companies started having strict dress codes and codes of conduct and the degrees for female dominated professions suddenly involve a ton of student debt and the way to get jobs in male dominated fields involves an apprenticeship that is bestowed upon you by a group of men and then the pay in female dominated feels dropped and men were like

"Hey girl boss, wouldn't it be nice to take a break from the harsh realities of capitalism with some billionaire sugar daddy smut on kindle that's cheaper than all the other books? Hey did you know you can torrent 50 shades of grey? Wouldn't it rock to quit your job and just sexually service some insane rich guy and rationalize his insane behavior all day?

And women were like

"Nah screw that if you want me to suck dick for money I'm going to come as close as I can to seizing the means or diversifying my portfolio or whatever and suck lots of dicks on onlyfans for a small amount of money each so none of them can back me into a corner"

And men were like

"Sorry, now you don't deserve human dignity and you can't expect brigades of trolls not to come after you and you can't expect people not to financially discriminate against your job or stalk you or SA you or publish revenge porn that would be good for your career right also we're gonna make your job illegal and also you're a Dubai toilet are you sure you don't want to go back to the 1950s household, sweetie? It doesn't seem like you're very good at running your own lives maybe if you just pretend to be a child and do pilates a man will take care of you. Maybe women's lib was a mistake? Everyone makes mistakes baby it's okay."

And any women left over got

"Actually you are persecuting and oppressing men and all the stuff you had done to you that you are afraid of replicating like a cycle of abuse and also we will literally take over the government and... you know those nice queer kids who were always nice to you and would make out with you or maybe just be your friends without asking anything other than friendship in return? Yeah we're gonna torture and possibly murder them if you don't do what we say. You know the nice non white people who seem like they don't do as much cisheteronormativity as us because of the legacy of us raping and torturing all the members of their society for years and commiting weird sexual violence on them so they aren't perfect but they don't do gender roles the same way we do exactly and also we hate them anyway and are always looking for excuses to hurt them? If you get married maybe we won't take away their rights. Maybe. We might have to fuck around and do it anyway. We can't have them breeding with you, unless it's us forcing you to performatively have sex with them in fetishy ways that make you feel racist and dirty. Of course we can have sex with whoever we want. You know there are so many warm, kind, feminine women in other countries who still believe in love. Don't even think about trying to have sex with the gays, we will turn that into fetish fuel for men who want to rape them. Oh, and you didn't care about the child poverty rate, right? Because right now eggs are awfully expensive and there was price collusion in Kroger and some other grocery stores- it was in the news. And no one is blaming the high cost of ice cream or chicken breasts or apples or rice or bacon or noodles or hot wings for why the guys who want to cut all social safety net programs got elected sweetie, just eggs. Kinda a coincidence that the guy behind that is having some big sex scandal with his children's mother? And it would all be easily solved if they were married. Anyway, we're going to repeal no fault divorce and hiring discrimination laws and post thousands of fake job listing's online and conduct real interviews for them and not tell you, and we're just going to wait right here watching all this soft core porn of women cooking with their tits out. No pressure. Whatever you decide. It's your choice."

i miss when "don't normalize this" actually meant something. i miss when we would point out toxic thought patterns and note "you're romanticizing something tragic". i miss when you could actually call something antifeminist and you'd be taken seriously. what actually happened.

no, it isn't fucking normal we have teen girls saying "tee hee girl math girl dinner i'm just a girl." no it's not fucking romantic that your man lured you away from your hobbies and your career so you could raise his children and rely on his financial support. yes it's fucking antifeminist for you to say "i'll explain this mathematical concept so the girls can understand it". just because you put it in pink and make it wear a bow doesn't mean it's a safe little doll. it's still the same wolf.

you are being taught to casually accept gender essentialism and bigotry as the natural rule of order! you are being taught to self-admonish and self-control! you are not just being boiled! the water has practically evaporated! this is no longer a thought experiment, my love. this is a genuine problem.

[accidentcache]

stereo hearts

feat: 3rd year katsuki bakugou

warnings: language. twinge of angst. 4k read, not beta/proofread. medical talk that was loosely researched.

cache notes: reader has quirk, kind of ooc! if that’s not ur thing then don’t read idk. got a sudden burst of motivation and decided to finish this <3

m.list

your third year at UA was nothing special. nothing compared to the first two years, and since the whole war situation, things are still getting back to normal in the only ways it can.

the case with your hero costume is comfortable. you can carry it with one hand, swing it at your side as you walk. it smacks against your thighs as you make your way down the hall, smiling in greeting to your classmates.

"hey," katsuki's voice is rough as he calls out when you walk past him. he's leaning against the lockers with kirishima, but he steps out a bit to catch your elbow before you make it past him.

katsuki's eyes have softened over time. when you first met him over two years ago, his gaze burned and you compared the color to a layer of hell fairly often due to his brash nature. here lately they're more akin to a soft campfire glow-- still burning, but more gentle and contained.

"where ya goin' with that?" his gaze shifts downward to the case swinging at your side.

"support lab," your eyebrow lifts and your free hand adjusts the strap of your book bag over your shoulder. "the last upgrade didn't work as well as i thought. i wanna see if they've got anything else to try."

a scoff leaves the blonde's lips, his eyes rolling in mock annoyance. he can't bring himself to fully be annoyed, however. not when it's you. "you've been saying that for weeks now," his hand loosens on your elbow but the gentle pressure of his fingertips on your skin keeps you stationary. "how many more 'upgrades' before you realize it's perfect the way it is?"

"the mask messes with my vision," you protest gently, shifting on your feet beside him. kirishima looks amused, but he's more focused on the screen on his phone than to join in the conversation. "and i need better chest protection, the mesh burned too easily from the gas last training session--"

you're interrupted by katsuki sighing loudly. he reaches up and takes your chin between his fingers-- the touch is gentle and it feels like he's treating you like glass. like you would break if he put any pressure on you.

your breathing stutters at the contact, not that katsuki notices. you two are close, you always have been since your first year. affection like this was the norm between the two of you.

"you worry too much," his voice is low, the slightest edge of scolding laced in. "quit stressing over it."

"i'm trying to prevent my quirk from killing me, katsuki."

it's a touchy subject. you can tell from the way kirishima stiffens just off to the side from you and katsuki, how katsuki himself looks away and retracts his hand from your skin. no one likes to talk about it.

"right," katsuki mutters under his breath, his voice strained. "damn lethal quirk of yours."

his eyes don't meet yours for a couple beats of silence. it always ends up like this when your quirk is brought up here lately. katsuki worries about you, just like you worry about him-- neither of you want to admit it out loud. where katsuki had softened over time, you had hardened.

"i have to find better chest protection for the pacemaker for my heart," your eyes roll. your hand swats at his arm in the gentlest way you could manage. "do we want a repeat of the training camp incident?"

katsuki flinches from the swat and stiffens almost immediately. his jaw is tense and something flashes in his eyes the moment the statement leaves your mouth.

in the back of your head, you hate how katsuki pushes you away when the subject is brought up. he holds you at arms length here lately, never pushing any further, never holding you any closer. if anything, your friendship with him had become stagnant in the past year and a half.

katsuki hates talking about his injuries, you hate talking about yours. both of you are stubborn in the same way. one day he's there, physically in front of you and you can feel his touch against sensitive skin-- the next you can barely recognize the person you're sitting next to at lunch.

katsuki doesn't say anything when you dismiss yourself. you ask kirishima to take notes for you as you won't be in class for the first half of the day-- the blonde looks almost emotionless as you make your way down the hall, uniform case swinging at your side.

the last thing katsuki wants to think about is the whole incident at the training camp. the last thing he wants to remember is how he watched you crumple to the ground when your heart failed on you during a simple sparring session with him. carrying your body through the woods, practically screaming for anyone to help him.

he never likes admitting when he's scared. he was terrified when your heart stopped.

he doesn't like pushing you to a distance, but if he sees you around enough his brain starts to mingle the image of your lifeless body with how you look in the present. it's jarring. and his own heart can't handle it. he's stuck in some sick loop of feeling the need to do more for you and wanting you to stay far away from him.

his footsteps feel heavy as they carry his body down the hallway. he's sore, exhausted after training with izuku. his arms are slick with sweat from wearing his winter outfit, working on his more large-scale attacks-- his hair sticks to his forehead, he looks at the ground as he walks. he barely registers your voice as he walks, absentmindedly cataloging it as part of his imagination.

when he finally lifts his head, he recognizes the familiar doors and windows of the school infirmary. even worse, he recognizes your form sitting on the edge of one of the beds, hooked up to a monitor. his heart falls to his stomach at the sight and before he can stop himself, he barges through the doors.

"the hell are you doing in here?" his voice is hard, borderline shaky. even though visibly you look fine, katsuki knows what it means when you're hooked up to a monitor that shows your heart rate. his eyes dart to the side to see the signal and his jaw clenches a little.

"i'm fine," you find yourself mumbling in response. your hand runs through your hair while the other messes with the thin sheets on the hospital bed underneath you. the monitor picks up the moment your eyes meet his and either katsuki ignores it or he's too worried to even mention it. "my pacemaker was acting weird while testing out new support items so i got sent here."

his eyes immediately narrow at your statement. he finds himself walking over to stand next to you, but he doesn't sit on the bed like he usually would. "what do you mean it's 'acting weird'?" his expression is a weird mixture of annoyance and concern. "is it about to give up on you?"

an awkward smile spreads on your lips and you laugh a little. "no!" the back of your hand meets his leg as you swat at him gently, trying to keep the situation light. "sometimes the signals get a little wonky so i have to get it resynced and rewired. nothing to worry about, really."

katsuki scoffs when you hit his thigh, and he snaps. "stop acting so casual about this," his eyes harden as he takes in the sight of you, grabbing your shoulder and squeezing it-- the action is gentle aside from how rough his tone is. "it freaks me the fuck out."

your face falls when he snaps at you and you know this is bothering him more than he wants to admit. you shoot him a look and scoot over on the bed, patting the new free spot beside you. "c'mere," you whisper.

he scoffs again but he isn't one to deny a request from you. the bed bounces a little from the sudden added weight and he scoots closer beside you. the bed is small, your thighs press together as the both of you watch the monitor just off to the side. the readings jump when he settles beside you, but again-- neither of you mention it.

your hands stay in your lap. your eyes flit from the monitor to his profile as a tiny and fond smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "you know i'd tell you if something was wrong with my heart, right?" your voice is quiet against the silence of the room.

katsuki knows that. he can't help but roll his eyes at that statement. the two of you have always been honest with each other. blunt. open. even with as distant as you've become with one another.

he can't help but worry about you. he has never told you about the nightmares he has about that night, nor will he ever tell you about them.

he looks away from the monitor and down at his lap. his brows furrow together and the annoyance melts to just concern. he continues to be quiet, listening to the steady beat of the monitor.

you stay quiet next to him, listening to the same beat. the last time you remember being in the infirmary at the same time as him was when he tweaked something in his arm-- the same one that got injured in the war. he had gone too far during training, you were there because you had overused your quirk and dehydrated to a lethal level.

"does it still bother you?" your teeth gnaw at your thumbnail in the silence that follows your voice. you're talking about the injury in his arm that's still healing, he's thinking about the night he carried your limp body out of the woods.

you barely notice how his shoulders stiffen. it's barely visible, but you know katsuki. he speaks up, but his voice is quiet. quiet and shaky. "…yeah. it does."

"it's not your fault," you reply in a tone that matches his. in a small, mindless action of comfort, you scoot closer towards him. your eyes stay locked on your hands in your lap. "i'm still here because of you, you know."

"stop saying stupid shit like that," a bitter expression crosses over his face. in the back of his head he knows it's not his fault. you've never blamed him for any of it. but you obviously don't think about it as much as he does, even now.

katsuki swallows again. harder this time. his shoulders are still tense, taut with awkward tension as he listens to the monitor. the beat was steady, but faster than it was before he sat down beside you.

your knee bounces as you look between him and the monitor, your tongue pressed between your lips. the silence is suffocating. and silences are never this awkward with katsuki unless it's involving your heart.

you can tell he's uncomfortable. from the bouncing of your leg, how your gaze flits from him to the monitor-- katsuki hates it. he can't help how his fists clench and unclench at his sides. the steady increasing beeping doesn't alleviate any of the growing tension between the two of you. he's worried-- and it's starting to show.

"why is your heart rate faster than usual?" his hand sticks out to point at the rise in the readings, as if you can't look at it yourself.

"i'm sitting next to you," you blurt out without even thinking about it. a laugh quickly follows to blanket the awkwardness and nerves but katsuki catches it. he wants to smile at your comment, he really does. he can see how the corner of your mouth twitches, and it makes his twitch in response.

his cheeks flush a little and he rolls his eyes a little, scoffing. "shut up."

you turn your head away from him and the monitor to hide how your lips actually form the smile. a couple beats pass before you finally face the screen again, fiddling with buttons and humming as you see how much longer you have on the monitoring cycle. you mutter something about ten more minutes, but katsuki barely hears it.

he's focused on your profile. he knows you just as well as you know him. he knows you're avoiding eye contact because you're flustered, deflecting the awkward tension in the room. it's bothering you just as much as it's bothering him.

"hey, [y/n]. look at me."

your head tilts a little and on cue, the monitor spikes when your eyes meet his. you try in vain to hide it, but it makes him smirk anyway.

"your heart betrays you, you know."

"yeah no shit, sherlock," you retort with a glare as you curse at the screen. literally and figuratively, your heart has sold you out. smacking the screen seems like it would do nothing to help the situation.

in a way, katsuki had an inkling that you had somewhat of a crush on him. if he wasn't so stubborn himself, he'd be able to at least admit to himself that he has one on you as well.

but the two of you are similar in more ways than one-- hard-headed and stubborn. only your confession was forced out in a stupidly subtle way.

katsuki grabs your chin and forces your attention back on him. "look at me, idiot. no more avoiding eye contact."

your eyes meet his once again and you curse a thousand times inwardly when the monitor spikes again. you can't even look away from him-- not that you had a choice, with the gentle grip of his fingers on your jaw, but also how his eyes seem to meld you into place.

his eyes have always been such an enigma to you. the color, the emotions swirling inside of them that you've only seen a small percentage of yourself. sometimes they're warm, like the embers of a campfire. sometimes they're harsh like blood seeping through an angry wound.

katsuki's smirk only grows wider when your heart rate steadies at the increased rate when you keep your eyes locked on him. inside, he's mentally freaking out. so it's true, you have a crush on him? it's confirmed now? he can barely contain how his brain reels at the information.

he moves closer, closing the already small distance between the both of you. the bed creaks as he moves, the thin mattress dips under his weight. his fingers stay locked onto your chin, his eyes never leaving yours. "so damn predictable," he practically purrs.

"i hate you," you immediately retort back and both of you know it's a lie. there's no malice or heat in your tone and the heart monitor straight up says it.

he watches as your eyes travel across his face. he's amused, clearly. he moves even closer towards you, his forehead resting against yours. his nose knocks against yours and a smirk curls further across his lips when the monitor spikes again. "no you don't, idiot."

"no, i don't," you breathe out, your eyes fluttering shut at the gentle and intimate contact. you'd be kicking yourself for folding so easily when he's this close to you. you decide to take a step further and cup his jaw with the palm of your hand, keeping him close.

he was already there, might as well lean into it, right?

he leans into the touch like it's instinct. he finds that he likes that your fingertips have a certain softness to them-- gentle, but rough due to the training and combat you've done over the years. his own heart feels like it's going to jump right out of his chest, but he's so damn good at keeping his cool. he has to keep the upper hand, because he'd be damned if you found out just how whipped he was for you.

a couple beats pass, but the two of you never break eye contact. it's strange how cool the two of you are with being so close together-- especially as intimately as this. your thumb swipes along his cheekbone and he swears his breathing stutters.

"you just had to barge in, didn't you?" the scoff that leaves your lips is disguised as a laugh.

katsuki tries to hide his smile when you talk, feigning annoyance. but he can't. he wants to push it further, to hear how your voice changes when you speak to him, how your heart rate spikes when he touches you. he loves the reactions. and apparently, he loves you.

"what, you didn't want me to check up on you?"

"you didn't have to stay," you murmur in response. your head tilts and it fits perfectly against his.

he leans into your touch even more, his hand falls to your thigh and his thumb draws mindless patterns onto the fabric on your pants. the monitor spikes again but he can't find it in himself to tease you about it. it just confirms the mutual attraction between the both of you.

katsuki swallows a little, his eyes not straying from yours. his voice is quiet when he speaks-- a tone he only reserves for you. "shut up," he mumbles. "of course i'm staying."

your teeth catch at your lower lip, failing to hide how your lips spread into a smile. your breathing is shaky, but it matches his. your 'okay' in response is barely above a whisper.

he's still concerned about your heart, of course he is. but right now it is a fading thought as he stares back at you, his chest tight. he's painfully stunned at just how much you make him feel with simple touches all of a sudden, how you make him feel everything with a simple look.

his gaze is soft. tender. you don't think he's looked at you like this before and it makes your throat dry.

eventually your heart rate steadies, once you grow comfortable with his proximity. your eyes shut and you don't even try to hide your smile or the chuckle that leaves your lips.

katsuki can't keep the smile off of his face either. your smile has always been infectious to him, and he finally lets himself be consumed by it, keening more for the warmth that the sight of it brings to his chest.

he wants to kiss you. so bad. he's a wimp, however and loses his chance when recovery girl steps back into the room when the monitoring phase is finished on your sensor. the two of you break apart-- equal amounts of pink coating your cheeks as she fiddles with the monitor and then with the device just under your skin on your chest. there's a knowing smile on her lips but she doesn't comment on anything, instead releasing you with a small instruction to get some rest.

katsuki is silent as you fix your shirt over your chest again, covering the pacemaker and fixing your hair now that you're detached from the machine. he watches you grab your things from the side of the bed, shouldering the strap of your bag and standing before your gaze turns back to him. "comin?"

he doesn't even hesitate.

once the doors to the infirmary shut behind the both of you, his hands shove into his pockets. he follows your lead down the hall, matching your pace like clockwork. the two of you walk a little closer to each other, his shoulder bumps against yours every so often.

the silence is comfortable, but still holds that twinge of awkwardness from before. he can't help but steal glances at you out of the corner of his eye. "you hungry?" he asks, his voice quiet.

your eyes light up at the mention of food. you hum in response, "actually yeah, i am."

he chuckles at the sight of the child-like response. he meets your gaze with a grin when your head tilts and he knocks his shoulder into yours. "i'm hungry too."

the two of you continue to walk, bumping into each other every once in a while-- which causes giggles to erupt from you, and a laugh to spill from katsuki. it's been a while since the two of you have been this playful with each other. carefree in a way. borderline flirty.

he doesn't even point out the stupid smile on your lips because he knows he looks just as stupid and giddy as you do at the moment. "you're such an idiot," he mutters fondly.

"shut up," you retort. the giggles don't fade out, filling the otherwise quiet hallway with warmth.

he wants to take your hand. you're close enough for him to do it, the both of you are practically walking shoulder to shoulder. it would be so easy for him to flex his pinky out and wrap it around yours, but he doesn't.

he rolls his eyes, but it lacks his usual brattiness. "make me," he challenges, digging his elbow into your side in a playful nudge.

you shove him away from you teasingly, laughing before pushing ahead of him in a couple paces. "those are dangerous words, 'suki," the nickname you use just to egg him on slipping off of your tongue easily.

katsuki clicks his tongue. "you little--"

you're unprepared for when he surges forward, hands latching onto your hips from behind. a sharp gasp leaves your lips when he tugs you roughly back into his chest, preventing you from walking any further.

your body stiffens from the contact involuntarily. your chest constricts from the feeling of your heart skyrocketing.

katsuki's grip tightens when he feels you stiffen in his hold. he doesn't know why he just grabbed you like this, but neither of you move away from another. katsuki's heart almost stops in his chest.

keep your shit together, he's thinking to himself. he's repeating be cool like a fucking mantra in his head.

his lips brush almost involuntarily against the shell of your ear, his voice low. "watch yourself, sweetheart."

when your head tilts back to look at him, you look like a deer caught in headlights. your hands clasp over top of his on your hips and his hands are warm. his grip doesn't falter, his eyes can't move away from yours. you look so cute to him at the moment-- startled and flushed. no doubt he probably looks the same to you.

he swallows the lump in his throat, trying to stay calm. the heat of your body pressing-- albeit not a lot--against his is intoxicating. "stop looking at me like that," he whispers, his voice rough but lacking the usual sharpness.

like a moth to a flame, you're leaning in towards his voice subconsciously. "like what?" your voice is barely audible.

he swallows again, his tongue darts out to run along his lips. "like you want to kiss me," he mumbles in response. he finds the way that you're melting against him a little too addicting.

both of you drop your eyes at the same time to each other's lips-- flushing at the same time. you don't realize how close the both of you are to each other until you are too close.

it's feels almost too natural. he's stuck on memorizing new details of your face that he's never noticed before until he's leaning in and brushing his lips against yours. you return the action by closing the remaining distance with a shaky exhale and suddenly the hallway fades around the both of you.

it's just the two of you, acting on instinct. your hand shakes as it lifts to graze his jaw and it sends fireworks along his skin. your head spins like he's stealing the oxygen straight from your lungs. the two of you stay locked to each other for what feels like a lifetime, but in reality is only a couple moments.

you don't know who pulls away first. but you feel the absence of the gentle pressure of his mouth on yours and you sigh, unable to hold back the whine that escapes.

katsuki is fairing no better from behind you. his breathing is ragged, heavy and he has yet to open his eyes. his hands are still tight on your hips and he has to swallow multiple times before he can manage to speak again. "fuck."

the corner of your mouth lifts at the sound of his curse. your lips are just a breath away from his, his nose knocks against yours in almost a silent plea for you to come closer once again. "whipped," you murmur teasingly, your knuckles curling under his jaw.

this time, katsuki curses louder-- but it's more to himself than it is aimed at you. so much for keeping his shit together.

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

[lllurr13]

How i got into the void state.

So, i was scrolling through tumblr, and usually, my feed is all about shifting. Yesterday, it was all about the void state. I've heard about the void state before, but i never intended to go there. Until yesterday, i was like "sure why not?". So how i did that. Basically, i didn't put any pressure on myself. I was just chill about it and kept affirming that i am already in the void state. I usually meditate, this time tho i was visualizing waking up in the void in the middle of a meditation. Even when a doubtful thought came up, i was just like, "wdym? I'm already in the void?" Before sleep i listened to this subliminal.

https://youtu.be/qrSZwAaUBWg?si=MFS-wKMWL8T_vtlu

Before going to bed.

I laid down in my bed, told myself "alright. I'll go into the void." I started taking deep, relaxing breaths. I was focusing on each of my body parts. First, i tensed up my head, inhaled, exhaled, and relaxed. That's what i did with each part until i was completely relaxed. I did move and just took a deep breath. i wasn't focusing too much. I just moved once. I kept affirming,

"i am in the void state."

"I am pure consciousness."

"I feel nothing nor hear anything."

I was about to give up, but then, yet again, i said to myself I'm already there." Then i was. It happened so fast. Some people feel symptoms before they got there, but i didn't. It was so cool. I didn't feel my body, nor did I hear anything, absolutely nothing. Then i don't know why, but then i said, "I'm still in my room, tho?" And then i went back. I just straightened up and was like, oh? I know that i can get into the void state anytime i want now and to my desired reality. If i can do it too, so can you.

Happy shifting.

[manwritingtales]

Jock Roommate

Note: Some pictures were too spicy for Tumblr (this post got flagged!) so I've linked to them instead

---

You know, I was happy when I first saw my roommate. Fit, handsome, and just excruciatingly sexy. You just know he had an easy life using his looks. He'd walk down the street and men and women would stop to turn and stare at him. He was that gorgeous. Too bad he was also a complete slob. He only cares about getting fit, playing sports, and getting laid. The stereotypical jock. Several shirts thrown here and there around were fine; and I honestly didn't care—I even took a sniff or two here and there, but I didn't expect him to be such a big fucking slob.

After a month of living with him, discarded bottles were all around, energy drinks, pizza boxes, and all sorts of garbage that I couldn't even decipher. It made me mad—not just by how dirty he was, but with how he could manage to eat like a pig and still look like that. Even if he didn't shower for days, instead of getting just stinky, he exuded this strong scent that I couldn't help but secretly enjoy. It was unfair seeing how much of a pig he was and still looking like that. Every other day, he'd be dragging some chick to bang all night, and the day after, I kept telling him to quiet it down, and he'd just roll his eyes and tell me to "lighten up." It was relentless. Every day, he'd be bringing a chick, sometimes two, and they'd go at it all night. The guy was a horndog. Muscles, chicks, sports, sex. That's all he cared about.

I don't know if he knew I was gay. Maybe he did. Sometimes, he'd be back from the gym, throwing his wet shirt along the pile of laundry on the floor, he'd grin at me and tell me to clean up the place. He'd take a long shower, while I stared at the soaked shirt. I would take it, feeling the warmth and moist of it, and plunge it deep in my nose. God, he reeked. It was a smell enough to drive a man wild. I wanted it closer to me, I wanted it in me.

When I heard the shower turn off, I immediately threw it away and started cleaning up. He'd stand there, looking fresh with clean skin and black hair, letting the water hit his chiseled abs, and he'd smirk at me and leave without saying a word. It went on for months until I hit my breaking point.

It was semi-finals. I was working on several projects and I got an exam the next day. Phillip—God, even his name sounded sexy on him—brought another girl home and started making out on the sofa. I heard the girl giggling in delight as they moaned. I peeked my head out and saw Phillip kissing the girl's neck. I grew angry. "Do you mind taking it in the bedroom? I got an exam tomorrow. Don't you have class too, Phillip?"

He looked at me in annoyance. "Mind your own business," he said. He turned to her. "Don't mind him. The fag's just jealous he's not you." They both laughed and started making out again.

That was it. It was too much. The pressure from college, Phillip calling me a fag, and the deep-seated feeling that he was right—I was jealous I wasn't making out with him. Things had to change.

What I didn't mention before was that I'm studying chemical engineering. The only reason I got into this prestigious university was that I was a stellar student. I was always combining compounds even before high school, and I knew I could work on something if I work hard on it enough.

I didn't sleep for three months. I dedicated day and night trying to find the perfect compound to use on Phillip. I may have barely passed my exams, earned a warning from my professors for being late or absent, but I was dead set. I used the university lab to make my own concoction, further improving upon it during the night. I barely survived the semester and I still spent the entire break perfecting my concoction.

Time passed like a blur, but I remembered every painstaking detail. Every late night of brainstorming. I didn't care. I was angry at him. I was angry at him for being such a slob, for being a jerk to everyone, and I was angry at myself for being attracted to him. In the end, I finally released the breath I'd been holding for months. I had done it. I'd found the perfect combination.

A new semester arrived. Phillip talked to me in the living room. God, I hated how my stomach felt when he was with me. He just exuded this potent musk, and the way he looks at you is enough to make your knees fall.

"Dude. You gonna pick up around here or what?" he said, glancing at the dirty apartment. I didn't point out that he made that mess. "You know I got more important stuff to do than handle all this. And it's not easy taking care of this bod, you know?" His muscles bulged as he spoke. I stared straight at his eyes. "Try not to be completely useless, for once."

This time, I didn't get mad. I smiled at him and said, "Okay."

He looked at me strangely. I didn't care. For once in my life, I didn't feel helpless against him, helpless against my attraction for him. I had the solution.

Just as scheduled, he went to the gym first thing in the morning. When he came back, he fixed himself a drink and got on the shower. Listening carefully to the running water, I let the liquid fall into his drink. I felt calm. I was so nervous thinking about it, but doing it felt so easy. I ate breakfast as I watched him drain the drink in a single gulp.

I saw him groan and enter his room. I sat on the couch, looking at the clock as minutes passed by. Finally, he opened the door, shuffling slowly to the living room, a confused look on his face.

"I… I don't feel so good…" he mumbled, collapsing to the floor.

I looked at his unconscious body. He even got a nice bubble butt. Too bad it was wasted on a straight dude. I got the vial from my room and swallowed it down. This shouldn't take too long, but for now, I looked at his body.

I turned him around. God, he's handsome. In spite of the horndog jerk, he was so pretty to look at. I let my hand roam over his skin, then gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. He smelled clean and fresh, his skin cool. I inhaled deeply, burying my face on his neck. His potent scent filled me. I could feel my dick become harder. I looked at his face, letting my fingers trace over his abs, and I kissed his lips. I let my tongue inside him, savoring his warmth, enjoying his saliva. I lifted his arms and smelled his pits. Still fresh from his shower, I gave it a lick. A shiver ran down my spine. God, I wanted more. I needed more of him.

I felt a tingle in my chest. The vial was kicking in. I shucked off my clothes and let my naked body fall on him. I could feel his chest, his dick, and his arms. I felt my brain cloud. An odd sensation lingered on my feet. looked down and gasped as I saw my foot slowly merging into his body. This was it. It was happening. I kissed his chest, my hands moving over him as I felt more of my body sinking into him. I could feel his soft breath against me, and it drove me wild.

I felt my chest fall inside him, my arms fading into him, and then the darkness consumed me as my consciousness slipped away.

I blinked. I was looking at the ceiling. A sharp pain throbbed in my head, and I clutched it in pain. Everything felt weird. My eyesight was hazy. I blinked rapidly until it cleared.

"What the fuck…"

Phillip's voice came out. I gasped and touched my throat. I felt stubble on my cheek. Looking down at my legs, I noticed how much stronger and more defined they were.

"Holy shit," I said, the words coming out in Phillip's voice. I touched my abs, feeling how firm they are. I looked down at my arms. Holy shit. They were toned as hell. I stood up and gasped at my new weight—my new height. I stumbled into the bathroom and looked in a mirror. Phillip's handsome face stared back. He looked confused, and I raised my arms and saw Phillip in the reflection do the same. I reached out and touched my cheek.

"It… It really worked…" I felt his tongue, somehow the feeling of enunciating words and syllables felt different. I flexed his arms and saw Phillip in the reflection doing the same. "It fucking worked!"

I watched as Phillip's face lighten up, grinning, as I felt my new body. "God, Phillip. You were always so fucking hot."

Hearing Phillip talk this way was enough to make me hard. I looked at every inch of his chest, at every part of his arm, and I could no longer ignore the hardening length below me. I shoved his boxers down. Good God. Phillip was packing serious heat. The thing was seven inches long, and it was only half hard. "Damn, Phillip," I muttered, "no wonder you got a chick every night."

Just the mere fact that I'm looking at Phillip and listening to his voice was enough to make me hard. I let out a heavy breath as I watched his cock get harder, arching to a full ten inches. I gave it a tug and left out a groan. Phillip's voice was manly and needy.

"You're so hot, Phillip," I said, gasping as I took his dick in his hands. I closed my eyes and let the sensation overtake me. I was him. I'd finally done it. I gave my brand new dick a squeeze and I groaned, as loud as I can. I felt my knees buckle, warmth coursing through my body and directly to my dick. I opened my eyes and stared at my reflection, seeing Phillip with his mouth open, hand on his long, hard dick, groaning. I spit on his dick, the saliva mixing with his pre-cum. I grinned at his reflection, trying to emulate the original Phillip as much as I can. I flexed his arms, wiggling his eyebrows as I stuck his tongue out. Jesus Christ he was sexy.

I turned and looked at Phillip's hairy bubble butt in the mirror. He was perfect. I stroked his cock, feeling the overwhelming heat radiating from it. It was veiny and wet, pulsating in my hand. I stroked it faster while flexing his arms, sniffing his armpits and feeling his knees buckle from the sensation. I started stroking harder and harder. "Fuck, Phillip!" I groaned, the words coming out in his voice, sounding so damn sexy. I stroked harder, feeling his body get slick with sweat. "Ohhhh fuck yeah!" I groaned harder, letting his voice fill the room. I inhaled deeply, taking in his smell, sniffing his armpits as hard as I could. His scent was powerful. It'd never been this overwhelming. It was in me. This strong, musky scent was everywhere.

I stroked harder and harder. I looked at Phillip in the mirror, seeing his body jerk off, his hands slick with saliva as his mouth drooled. I felt my knees buckle and I let out a loud groan, massive amounts of cum spurting from his dick, splattering against the mirror. I let the sensation wash over me, the warmth still so overwhelming. I breathed in and out, my chest rising and falling.

I looked at his reflection again, then at my hand. It was slick with his cum. I stared at his reflection and watched Phillip lick his own cum from his hands.

---

I plopped down on his bed. Even his bed smelled like him. His room was a mess—clothes thrown everywhere, bottles, papers—but I didn't care. I stared at the ceiling, watching Phillip's chest rising and falling. I looked over his body, the birthmark, the veins, and all the little things I'd only began to notice now that I was in him.

"God, Phillip, why did you have to be such a dick?" I whispered in his voice. I breathed in and out, still not sure if this is real or a dream. I heard a notification from his phone, and grinned as it opened using facial recognition. It was a message from a random chick, asking when they were going to meet up.

"Well, that's not gonna happen," I whispered. "I'm gay as fuck."

Hearing Phillip say those words made me snort, a laugh escaping my lips. I tossed the phone aside and let myself enjoy the warmth of his bed. He feels so tight, so manly, and so good. I looked down at his dick, which was already getting hard again. A wave of intense horniness washed over me, then dove straight to my hardening cock. "Jesus, Phillip. Now I get why you're such a fucking horndog."

[bambambwi]

Reveal?

Context ; You were set to collaborate on stage with BIGBANG, but you were secretly in a relationship with Kwon Jiyong, and the other members didn’t know about it. (rockstar gf au??)

──────────────────────

You were invited to collaborate with the legendary K-pop group BIGBANG. Initially, you turned down the offer, fearing that your relationship with their leader, kwon jiyong, might be exposed to the public. However, their management eventually convinced you to contribute a guitar solo in between of their song SOBER.

Eventually, you texted ji yong to let him know you had agreed to the offer.

"Of course they wanted you!" he replied. "You're one of the best out there."

"Thank you, ji... but isn’t it risky?" you asked, hesitation creeping in.

"I'll act like I don't even know you." he reassured, though you could almost hear the smirk through the screen.

To keep things professional and avoid unnecessary attention, you informed their staff that you would be practicing separately. You planned to join them only for sound check and dress rehearsal, sending over recordings of the prepared guitar solos in advance for approval.

Unfortunately for you, that plan didn’t hold up for long. You were required to attend at least one or two practice sessions to get familiar with your positioning and movements on stage to ensure you knew exactly where to stand and what to do until the very last note of the song.

And there you were, in their practice room, dressed in black sweats that matched your tank top, going through the motions. Learning the necessary stage movements, the small bits of the choreography, and figuring out exactly where to walk and stand. ji yong was right there with the group, practicing alongside them, his presence impossible to ignore.

As the instructor finally called for a break, you let out a quiet breath and made your way to a corner of the practice room, sinking onto the floor. The cool surface felt nice against your heated skin as you stretched out your legs, rolling your shoulders to ease the tension from practicing.

daesung noticed your quiet presence in the corner and made his way over, settling into a chair right next to you. His usual warm smile was in place as he glanced down at you.

"You know there was a chair right here" he pointed out.

"I know" you replied, stretching your legs out. "The floor was comfier."

daesung chuckled, leaning back slightly. "I thought you’d bring your guitar today."

"I thought it wasn’t necessary" you admitted, letting out an anxious laugh.

Before you could respond, ji yong suddenly sat down in front of you on the floor, effortlessly inserting himself into the conversation. 

"Ah, maybe she’s keeping the solo a secret.” he teased, tilting his head slightly.

You rolled your eyes "Or maybe I just didn’t think I needed it for a practice where I’m only learning where to stand" you shot back, raising a brow.

daesung chuckled beside you, clearly amused by the exchange. "Now i’m even more curious. Should we be expecting something crazy?"

ji yong smirked, resting his forearms on his knees as he looked at you.

"All of her collaborations with other artists, she played her parts extremely cool. How can it not be crazy?" he said, his tone both teasing and confident.

daesung chuckled beside you, clearly agreeing.

You, however, didn’t respond. Instead, you kept your gaze on your phone screen, pretending to be too occupied to engage. You weren’t sure if it was the pressure of the performance or the weight of ji yong’s presence, but acknowledging any of it felt impossible. So, you just nodded slightly, offering a small hum of acknowledgment before going back to scrolling aimlessly.

ji yong’s eyes never left you, even as you avoided looking at him or daesung. He let out a quiet smile, one so subtle that most people wouldn’t have noticed but daesung did. he watched as ji yong casually laid down on the floor right in front of you, arms resting behind his head, his expression unreadable but his intentions were clear. It was almost too obvious, the way he positioned himself directly in your line of sight, as if silently challenging you to acknowledge him.

You, however, kept your gaze fixed on your phone, your fingers scrolling through nothing in particular but the more you ignored him, the more persistent ji yong seemed to become.

daesung quickly fled the scene, suppressing a chuckle as he made his way back to the others, who were busy talking with the staff. He wasn’t about to get caught in whatever was going on between you and ji yong, especially when ji yong was being so obvious.

That left just the two of you.

He hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor, still lying there like he had all the time in the world.

"Are you really going to keep ignoring me?" he finally asked, his voice low and teasing.

‘’Isn’t that what we agreed to?" you muttered, gently nudging him with your leg.

ji yong let out a quiet chuckle, rolling onto his stomach, his face now resting against the cool floor as he turned toward you. His voice came out slightly muffled.

"It’s cold in here. Did you bring your jacket?"

You shook your head, still avoiding his gaze. "No, I left it in the car."

ji yong pushed himself up from the floor, standing in front of you as he shrugged off his jacket and without a word, he held the jacket out to you. You hesitated, glancing between him and the jacket before shaking your head. "I’m fine.”

he sighed, rolling his eyes. and when you didn’t move, he crouched down, draping it over your shoulders himself. His fingers lingered for just a second before he pulled away, smirking.

"See? Now you don’t have an excuse to keep ignoring me."

From a short distance away, taeyang crossed his arms, exchanging a knowing look with top as they observed ji yong draping his jacket over your shoulders. 

"You weren’t kidding" taeyang murmured to daesung, who stood beside him.

top took a slow sip of his water, eyes still on ji yong. "He’s not even trying to hide it."

They watched as ji yong lingered just a second too long, his smirk unmistakable. Meanwhile, you still seemed determined to avoid eye contact, though you hadn’t pushed the jacket away.

"Wonder how long they think they can keep this up" taeyang mused, amused by the whole thing.

daesung chuckled. "Not much longer if ji yong keeps acting like that."

──────────────────────

During both sound check and dress rehearsal, ji yong’s unusual closeness to you didn’t go unnoticed. The teasing, the lingering touches, the way he spoke to you differently. it was obvious to both the staff and his members.

"What happened to acting like you don’t know me?" you muttered, keeping your voice low.

ji yong smirked, unfazed. "I changed my mind... you’re not ignorable."

──────────────────────

Today was the day of the concert. You sat by your vanity desk, eyes closed, trying to steady your breathing and reassure yourself against the pressure. A staff member gently massaged your shoulders, easing the tension that had built up.

Unnoticed in the chaos backstage, ji yong sneaked into the room. Moving with practiced ease, he slowly took the staff member’s place, his hands replacing theirs without a word. His touch was familiar and warmer.

It took you a moment to realize the difference. And when you did, your eyes slowly opened, meeting his in the mirror.

“At this point, you want them to know, don’t you?” you murmured.

ji yong still working over your shoulders. “Maybe..” he said casually, voice low.

he turned your chair around, his hands gripping both armrests and caging you in. 

“ji what are you—”

Before you could finish, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. 

Your hands instinctively pushed against his chest, trying to create space, but he only leaned in further.The room was frozen in silence, the staff too shocked to react.

ji yong finally pulled back, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he tilted his head slightly.

“Ah, now your lipstick is smudged onto my lips" swiping his thumb across his mouth before glancing at you one last time.

Without a care in the world, he strolled out of the room, casually waving over his shoulder.

You were left frozen in place, surrounded by staff members staring at you. Just as ji yong disappeared through the door, a few of them quickly rushed over to fix your smudged lipstick.

“Is this why you didn’t want to take this collaboration at first?” one of them teased, dabbing at your lips with a knowing grin.

You groaned in response, slumping slightly in your seat as they continued to tease you. 

While you and the rest of the members were on stage performing, word about you and ji yong spread like wildfire among both your staff and BIGBANG’s.

Whispers traveled fast. staff exchanging glances, some stifling knowing smiles, others outright gossiping backstage. The scene from earlier had been impossible to ignore, and now, there was no denying what had been simmering beneath the surface.

Once the performance was over, you all said your goodbyes to the fans and walked backstage together. The energy was still high, adrenaline buzzing through your veins, but as soon as you were offstage, you distanced yourself slightly from the group.

Standing to the side, you sipped water through the straw of the bottle one of your staff held for you, trying to catch your breath. The others were chatting, some laughing, but you could still feel lingering eyes on you with the staff members stealing glances, barely hiding their knowing smiles.

taeyang, top, and daesung had finally caught up with the backstage gossip, and it showed.

The moment they spotted you, all three exchanged glances before making their way over, their expressions a mix of amusement and curiosity.

daesung was the first to speak, barely holding back a grin. “So… anything you wanna share with us?”

taeyang crossed his arms, tilting his head. “Didn’t think we’d find out this fast, huh?”

top simply sipped his drink, eyeing you with an unreadable expression before smirking. He didn’t need to say anything, the look on his face said enough.

You sighed, already bracing yourself for whatever teasing was about to come.

Before you could even respond to daesung, ji yong slid into the conversation, his tone casual yet firm.

“We keep this between us only." he said, glancing at the three of them. “I’ve told the staff to keep quiet about it, as she doesn’t want it to go out to the public.”

The atmosphere shifted instantly. daesung, taeyang, and top exchanged knowing looks, clearly processing his words. They could tell there was more to the story, but they respected the unspoken boundary he’d set.

You just stood there, the guitar still in your hands, feeling the tension between you and the others.

The silence lingered for a moment until the staff broke the silence asking everyone to gather for pictures.

It was a chance for everyone to fall back into the routine of the moment. You handed off your guitar to a staff member before walking over to join the group.

The three of them exchanged glances, but said nothing, as the staff snapped photos of the group together, the tension still hanging in the air.

Later that day, the five of you went out to dinner. The mood was lighter now, the teasing fading into the background as everyone settled into their seats. The group shared jokes and laughter, but eventually, the conversation turned toward you and ji yong.

You both exchanged a brief glance before he spoke up, explaining how you and he had even ended up together. “Its been awhile now.” he said, his tone casual but a hint of something more serious behind it.

You nodded, adding, “We just didn’t want it to be public yet, i don't feel too comfortable about it.”

The members listened intently, trying to piece together the story. 

After a moment, daesung broke the silence with a smile, leaning back in his chair. “Well, as long as you’re both happy.”

both taeyang and top nodded in agreement, “We’ll keep it to ourselves.”

The conversation shifted again, the tension easing as everyone settled into the familiarity of each other’s company.

──────────────────────

[vividly-vermillion]

I know I'm submitting this embarrassingly fast but I have no dignity, if you feel like it how about suna + thigh riding? hehe thank you! <3

I'm afraid we all have no dignity here but who am I to judge? /lh

It's my first time writing for him so I hope I didn't disappoint 🥹♥️

-> Kink ask game

cw: fem!reader x suna rintaro, thigh riding, mentions of sex & fingering, reader getting called "good girl" once

"You want to do what?" The corners of Suna's lips curled into the smallest grin.

“Rin… don't make me repeat myself please,” you almost whine when he gives you that look. Oh how he loves to hear you get desperate for him.

His expression doesn't waver when he simply pats his lap, a silent invitation to accommodate your dirty little wish.

“Go on then,” he muses calmly while his hands tug you closer by your waist. This was what you wanted after all, wasn't it?

You wanted to hesitate, act as if you weren't dying to hump his leg like a bitch in heat but your composure fell fast. With shaky legs you straddled one of Suna’s strong thighs, your hands resting on his shoulders as your eyes were searching for his. You were sure that he would be grinning, amused by how desperate you were acting, but his eyes were half lidded, a pleasant smile on his lips while his hands held your hips in place.

“That's my good girl,” he hums softly when your hips start dragging against his leg, his muscles flexing beneath you to give you more friction.

Despite the layers of clothing separating your needy cunt from him, it was enough to scratch that itch, soft moans escaping your lips at how Suna helped you to roll your hips just at the right pace, enough pressure to feel good but leave you wanting for more at the same time. His eyes never left yours, pupils dilating when you moaned his name so cutely, pawing at his shirt as the knot inside your stomach tightened with each drag of your hips.

“Gonna make a mess from humping my thigh?” He asked, almost amused but one hand slipped from your waist to bring your face closer to his.

He could feel your hips stutter, your pussy clenching around nothing, missing the absence of his fingers or his cock buried deep inside of you but the way he kissed you - so full of hunger - left you breathless. The pleasure was overwhelming, almost rendering you completely useless to the point where your hips locked up. Suna gently bounced his thigh while his hand on your hips did its best to keep you moving against his thigh.

This simple action was all it took to help you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave and your head rested in the crook of his neck as his name fell from your lips like a sinful prayer.

Suna ran his hand that was previously resting on your hip over your back, small shivers ran down your spine at the gentle movement. He was always like this, caring after he reduced you to a moaning mess. Perhaps you should have told him how much you liked his thighs much sooner…

[gf2bellamy]

Hiii ! First of all take care of you dw if you want to slow down on request it's totally okay !!! I looove your fics tysm for your amazing writing

I was wandering i you could write something about Spencer and nonBAUreader are watching a serie about serial killer and reader ask MANY questions about Spencer's work (i'm curently watching the new season of Dexter x)) and it's all cute

love uuuu <3💐

questions — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of serial killers not get caught / dna under finger nails / victims a/n: hi hi tysm !! that's so so nice <33 and i hope you like this <3 also i don't even wanna know how bad my google search history looks like rn

You were curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs and a bowl of popcorn resting between you and Spencer. The two of you were halfway through a binge-watch of a fictional crime series about a serial killer, and while the show was gripping, you couldn’t help but pepper Spencer with questions.

After all, who better to ask than an actual FBI profiler?

“Okay, wait,” you said, pausing the show just as the detectives on screen were about to interrogate a suspect. “This whole DNA-under-the-nails thing—how often does that actually happen in real cases? Like, is it as common as they make it seem?”

Spencer, who had been leaning back against the arm of the couch with his legs stretched out, turned to look at you, his eyes lighting up at the question.

“Actually,” he said, sitting up a little straighter, “it’s not as common as TV makes it seem, but it does happen. The likelihood depends on the type of assault and whether the victim had the opportunity to fight back. Statistically, it’s present in about 12% of cases where there’s close physical contact.”

You nodded, absorbing the information. “So, it’s not a guarantee, but it’s a solid lead when it’s there,” you said, more to yourself than to him. “What about contamination? Like, how often does the DNA get messed up because of improper collection or storage?”

Spencer’s face lit up even more, and you could tell he was enjoying this. “Great question,” he said, his tone enthusiastic. “Contamination is a huge issue, especially in high-profile cases where there’s a lot of media attention and pressure to solve the case quickly. Improper handling of evidence can reduce the reliability of DNA results by up to 30%. That’s why chain of custody is so important.”

You hummed thoughtfully, popping a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “Makes sense,” you said. “Okay, next question. How likely is it that a serial killer could stay hidden for, like, decades?”

Spencer tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “It’s more common than you’d think,” he said. “If the killer is organized, methodical, and avoids leaving behind forensic evidence, they can evade capture for years—sometimes even decades. The Golden State Killer, for example, wasn’t caught for over 40 years. The probability of staying hidden increases if the killer targets strangers, moves frequently, and avoids leaving behind patterns that law enforcement can track.”

You frowned slightly, your brow furrowing as you considered that. “That’s… kind of terrifying,” you said. “But also fascinating. How do you even start profiling someone like that? Like, what’s the first step?”

Spencer smiled, clearly impressed by your line of questioning. “It starts with the crime scene,” he said, his tone shifting into what you affectionately called his “professor voice.” “Every detail tells a story. The way the victim was killed, the location, the level of violence—it all gives us clues about the killer’s psychology, their motives, and even their background. From there, we build a profile and use it to narrow down potential suspects.”

You nodded, your eyes narrowing slightly as you processed everything. “That’s so cool,” you said, your voice soft. “I mean, not cool that people do terrible things, but cool that you can figure all that out just by looking at the evidence.”

Spencer chuckled, his smile warm. “It’s not always easy,” he said. “But it’s rewarding when we can use it to catch someone and stop them from doing harm.”

You smiled, tucking your legs underneath you as you turned to face him more fully. “I can’t even imagine,” you said. “Do you ever… I don’t know, get scared? Or overwhelmed?”

Spencer’s expression softened, and he hesitated for a moment, as if considering how much to share. “Sometimes,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “There are cases that stay with you, ones that are harder to shake. But having a team helps. And… well, it helps to have something—or someone—to come home to.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, soft and sincere, and you felt your heart swell. Without thinking, you shifted closer to him on the couch, your hand reaching out to gently rest on his arm.

“I’m glad you have that,” you said, your voice warm. “And I’m really glad I get to be that someone.”

[reikiss]

𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐒

tags : ❄️ fluff. reader is on her period and has cramps. est. relationship. 694 words. a/n : i am yearning for zayne sb esp bc im on my period ☹️ just a short one bc i miss my hubby. hope u guys like this!

"You've been sitting on the sofa for a while now. Are you okay?" Zayne calls out as he walks towards you from the table where papers were scattered. He was reading them while responding to emails on his laptop. It's been like this since yesterday since he suddenly decided to work from home, said it was for a change of pace and to rest since he's had a lot of surgeries lately, but here he was, taking care of you on your period.

"Could you rub my stomach for me?" You winced as even little movements makes the cramps more painful. Finding a comfortable position was easier said than done.

He offers an assuring smile before slowly sitting down beside you. Lifting his hand, he places it on your lower abdomen and starts moving his hand in a circular motion. "Does this pressure feel okay?"

Nodding, you close your eyes and lean back to give him more access. "Thank you, doc." To which he quietly chuckles at the nickname.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure to give your service a 5-star rating."

The comment makes him smile fondly as he nodded his head. "Much appreciated, Miss. However," his hand stops its movement as he gazes at you intently, moving closer as his other hand goes up to tuck stray strands of your hair before his face cupped your cheek, thumb gently stroking your skin as he whispered, words sprinkled with the sweetest of honey and the warmth of the afternoon sun, "My services are reserved for only one person."

His words were followed by a kiss that felt like clouds hugging you. It wasn't like a rush of adrenaline, but more like being wrapped up in a warm blanket on a cold morning, makes you want to stay and never leave. His lips lingered, and to be honest, you wished it stayed longer, like snoozing your alarm for 5 more minutes; you both could never get enough.

But he knew. The time apart wasn't long though because he came back quicker than he left. And once you were both satisfied, you thought it was done. He had other plans.

He was determined to warm you up with his lips which moved to your chin, then your cheeks, followed by the tip of your nose, and finally your forehead.

"I'm not complaining, but what's this for?"

"I know I was focused on work for quite a while. Consider it as my compensation." Smiling, he fixed your blanket and continued rubbing your abdomen.

This made you grin. "Any kind of compensation from you is always welcome. But, you didn't have to. You are working from home after all. Besides, you're already doing a lot for me." Looking down, you slightly pout.

He sighs with a small smile. "How many times must I remind you it's okay to depend on me? In fact, I encourage you to." Gently holding your chin, he makes you look up at him.

Seeing your eyes, he could see a mix of emotions, but what stood out was shame.

It's as if he was scared that a shift in the air could cause a spark and create an explosion, he whispered ever so gently as he held your gaze with so much gentleness and love that you almost cried from how safe it felt to be with him. "I want to do this. I'm happy to do this, so please let me take care of you. What kind of doctor would I be if I can't even take care of.. the most important person in my life?"

It's probably your hormones going haywire, but something deep down tells you that's not the case of why you shed a tear of two from his words, heart bursting with gratefulness, love, and affection for this man. Your man.

Laughing while you cry, you just nod frantically, but Zayne wasn't that convinced yet. "Or am I going to have to use my power and authority, and give you a 'Doctor's order'?"

Now shaking your head, you chuckle while sniffling. "No need, doctor. I tend to disobey those, and this order is something I very much want."

© shizukiss — do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or repost my posts anywhere

[wosospacegirl]

And they were roommates - part 5

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate Kyra is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: this part is very suggestive (+18!), but they don't do anything besides make out, or well, try to make out.

Word count: 5.1k

Masterlist

| PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 |

After a long day at Arsenal with Kyra spending the whole afternoon on the pitch and Y/n at physio, the girls decided to treat themselves to a pizza night.

They were supposed to cook real food. They tried to cook real food but Kyra accidentally cut her pinky finger while chopping chestnuts for a roasted pumpkin chestnut soup Y/n had wanted to try for ages.

Y/n suspected that Kyra had done it to avoid having to cook at all, but when Y/n saw the pout on her face as she held out her finger for Y/n to ‘kiss it better’, Y/n just lost the courage to confront Kyra about it.

So pepperoni pizza it was.

Kyra knew that Y/n hated to eat unbalanced meals, so she even made her green juice to balance it all out. Kyra didn’t want to try the juice, claiming it looked like puke.

When they finished eating, they went to the sofa, where Kyra sat back and spread her legs so that Y/n could sit in between them, leaning on Kyra’s chest. They had got used to making themselves comfortable like this, as it was one of the few positions Y/n was comfortable enough because of her cast.

A random film was playing on the screen, but Kyra and Y/n didn’t pay any attention to it, too focused on kissing each other.

“I thought you didn't like the taste of the green juice?” Y/n teased, speaking close to Kyra’s mouth.

“I’m kissing you,” Kyra whined. “Can’t you shut up?”

Y/n rolled her eyes but remained silent, enjoying the sensation of Kyra’s tongue in her mouth. It made her hot in all the right places and judging by Kyra's reaction, she felt it too. Y/n felt a shock go through her as Kyra’s finger slowly tugged at her shirt, almost as if asking for permission to continue.

Y/n loved it when Kyra kissed her first. Kyra was more confident now, enough to start any kind of physical intimacy between the two of them.

Kyra’s hands found their way shyly under Y/n’s t-shirt. Her fingers caressed the skin from her waist to her ribcage, and from there Kyra began to explore Y/n’s body more, cupping her breasts.

“Please?” Y/n whispered.

Y/n felt Kyra’s chest rise against her back, she couldn't see Kyra's face, but she was sure the girl was blushing.

“Okay,” Kyra breathed, pinching Y/n’s nipples, slowly and gently at first, but applying more pressure each time Y/n asked for more.

Y/n turned her head, kissing Kyra’s and sucking on her lip, listening as the girl moaned against her mouth. Y/n broke the kiss to remove her shirt, the room was getting hot and the less clothing between her and Kyra the better.

Kyra’s eyes went wide as she stared at Y/n’s torso, but she tried to play it cool. It wasn't the first time Kyra had seen her half-naked, as Kyra had to help her bathe, but it was the first time Kyra looked at her with lust as if the girl was trying to memorise all of Y/n’s body.

Kyra cupped Y/n’s tits with one hand as she pressed Y/n harder against her chest, her mouth was on Y/n neck, sucking the skin. “Can I just give you one mark?” Kyra asked, stroking her tongue against Y/n’s neck, “Just one, right here? Please?” her finger pressed against Y/n’s skin.

Y/n nodded, and moments later Kyra was sucking her skin with more determination. The spot she chose for hickey was hidden enough that no one would know.

But right now, even if Kyra wanted to give her hickey in a very visible place, Y/n would just agree as well. That was how much horny she was.

“Kyra, I want more,” Y/n whispered, taking one of Kyra's hands and putting it between her legs, unfortunately, she was still wearing her pyjama shorts, but the pressure of Kyra’s hand against her core was enough to send shivers down Y/n’s body.

Kyra kept her hand there for a few seconds before letting go of Y/n’s neck of her mouth. “We can’t, baby,” she swallowed, pulling her hand away from Y/n’s. “Even though I really want to.”

“Why not?” Y/n asked, turning her torso towards Kyra and making it her mission to be the one to kiss Kyra’s neck this time. “Please?” Y/n put Kyra’s hand back in between her legs. “I want to be with you, can’t you see?”

“I know love. I want to, but you’re injured, it will hurt you,” Kyra said, gently pushing Y/n’s face away from her neck so she could look at Y/n. “We can do it when you take off your cast, okay?”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “I’m injured, I’m not bedridden!”

Y/n was still a very healthy young woman with needs. Everyone treated her as if she would wither away if she attempted to do anything mundane. She couldn’t be having Kyra doing it too, especially when it came to sex.

She was very determined to show Kyra how good she could make Kyra feel as well. When Y/n insisted again and kissed Kyra’s neck harder, the other girl let out a sigh.

“Y/n, you can barely open your legs!” Kyra sighed, exasperated.

“Oh for fucks sake Kyra I can open my legs just fine!” Y/n huffed, chin up. “Look!”

As Y/n tried to spread her legs apart, a sharp and disconcerting pain hit her from her hip to the ankle on her bad leg.

Ok, maybe she couldn't open her legs

“Bloody hell” Y/n cried. “Fuck–It hurts!”

Kyra immediately let go of Y/n’s body and got off the sofa, standing in front of her, with a worried look on her face.

“Hey, it's okay, “What part of your leg hurts? Show me, baby.”

Kyra swallowed hard as she watched Y/n’s pained face. She kneeled down on the floor so she was level with Y/n’s eyes.

“The whole thing hurts!” Y/n whined, closing her legs again and feeling the pain ease. “Fuck, I thought I’d be better by now, I did open legs exercises in physio today, damn it! I should be better by now.”

Kyra put her hands on either side of Y/n’s tights, making sure they were closer together. “You started your open legs exercises today, it’s going to take some time before you can really do it on your own.”

Kyra took Y/n’s face in her hands, stroking her cheek and wiping away a tear. “You need time to heal.”

Y/n didn't even notice that she was crying. But she wasn’t surprised. Ever since Kyra moved in with her she had probably cried an embarrassing number of times. Fortunately, Kyra didn’t seem to mind the whiner she had become.

“But I want to get better now,” Y/n said, head down like a child.

Kyra kissed her forehead, then her nose. “You have to be patient with your body, we talked about this, it was a big injury, not just a twisted ankle. ”

“But I really want to have sex with you right now!” Y/n protested, saying the words slowly as if Kyra didn’t understand. “I’m horny! I’ve been horny ever since you moved in!”

Maybe Y/n was just throwing what was left of her dignity in the bin, but who cared about self-respect when you had a very pretty girl living with you and they couldn’t have sex?

Y/n didn’t want sex just for the orgasm. She wanted it because she wanted to be closer to Kyra. She wanted to get to know her better, to discover this part of Kyra’s life. What she liked, what she didn’t; what she sounded like when she came, if she was more of a button than of a top.

Y/n had always loved sex–it was fun. But with Kyra it was different. It wasn’t just about the pleasure; it was about taking the next step, about being closer, about intimacy. Not being able to do that right now just because of her leg was another reason why she took the injury so badly.

Y/n felt that her body had betrayed her.

She couldn’t play football, which was literally her job. When she went out with friends they always had to find a place to sit, because Y/n couldn’t stand for a long time, and now her fucking broken tibia had let her down again.

No sex. For the next few weeks. Weeks!

Kyra tried to hold back her laugh so as not to frustrate Y/n.

“I understand you, I feel the same, yeah? But we just need a few more weeks and then we’ll have all the sex in the world.” Kyra kissed the pout on Y/n’s lips. “But only if you are patient and behave.”

Only if you are patient.

That quote kept running through her mind. She had to be patient. Even if she was horny, even though she was frustrated, and even though she was in pain.

Y/n had never been in a situation where she had to wait to do something she really wanted to do because she was physically unable to.

She breathed in and out through her nose. She was getting better at dealing with her frustration, she wasn’t going to throw it all down the drain now.

She decided to use Kyra's tactic: making jokes to push the anger and frustration away.

“Behave?” Y/n asked, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she leaned into Kyra’s ear. “I hope you know I’m the one who likes to make others behave.”

Y/n went from super horny, to sad, then to angry, and now to horny again.

Hopefully, the hormone imbalance in her body will be fixed before she goes back on the pitch, otherwise, she won’t be able to keep up with her mood and the adrenaline of the game.

Kyra, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind Y/n’s change of spirit. She just looked happy to see that Y/n not crying.

“You know what?” Y/n said, looking up and down at Kyra. “You are not in a cast,” she pulled Kyra closer. “We could still do lots of things without it getting in the way.”

“My tibia is broken but my fingers aren't,” Y/n continued, urging Kyra to sit on the couch by her side. Kyra blushed but allowed herself to be moved closer to Y/n.

“Y/n–” Kyra said, but was interrupted by a kiss.

Y/n put a hand on Kyra’s tights, her skin soft to the touch. “If you want to you can always sit on my face, that’d be nice too,” Y/n whispered against Kyra’s ear.

“I would love to…” Kyra said in between moans as Y/n sucked on a spot on her neck. “But I only want to have sex when I know you won’t get hurt.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but continued to pay attention to Kyra’s neck, her hand on the girl's waist. “I can’t get hurt when you’re riding on my face, I'll be lying down and all that.” Y/n tried, cupping Kyra’s left breast under her shirt.

Kyra blushed harder, her breathing uneven.

“I’ve never done it,” Kyra confessed bluntly.

Y/n shifted her focus from Kyra’s neck to her face. She looked a little embarrassed, it was sweet. Y/n knew that Kyra didn’t have as much experience as she did when it came to sex, but she would love to be her teacher.

“Oh, it’s alright, I’ll teach you, it’s easier than you think,” Y/n winked, but when Kyra didn’t reciprocate it she added. “...but it’s okay if you don’t want to, or if you want to wait, I don’t want to rush you, or well, us.”

Kyra gulped, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll do it when I know your body is fully healed,” Kyra said again. “I’ll be thinking too much about hurting you and won't be able to relax and enjoy it,” Kyra admitted.

Y/n smiled.

She was a little disappointed. She would have loved Kyra to ride her face right now. But there was a time for everything. When they both felt comfortable they would do it and Y/n would make sure Kyra was enjoying it.

“Okay, baby, we’ll wait then,” Y/n said, smiling at Kyra before pecking at her lips.

Kyra kissed her back and in a few moments, they were lying down in the same way as before, Y/n leaning against Kyra’s chest as she fidgeted with Kyra’s fingers, just enjoying her company.

It took Kyra a few seconds to relax, especially with how her body buzzed like a horny teenager’s. There was nothing more she wanted than to be with Y/n, to taste her, to see what happened when no boundaries were holding them back.

She wouldn’t lie. She was a bit intimidated about having sex with Y/n, even though she truly wanted to. Kyra was afraid of what Y/n would think of her. She wasn't a virgin, she had been with girls before, but Y/n was still more experienced than she was, and that made Kyra feel a bit insecure.

While Y/n worked on growing her bones back, Kyra should work on her confidence.

But Kyra had to admit that if it weren’t for the cast, there wouldn't be a string of vulnerability that would make Kyra not want to have sex with Y/n.

Unfortunately, they just couldn’t right now. Kyra knew Y/n was the type to get carried away and she wasn’t sure that she would be completely honest about whether or not she was feeling any type of discomfort because of her leg if they were having sex.

So she stood her ground. They would wait. Even if Kyra had to take a cold shower every day.

Their eyes found their way back to the television.

“So, what’s the film about?” Y/n asked.

Kyra laughed. “I have no fucking idea.”

..

They were at Arsenal on a Wednesday night.

Kyra was at the gym while Y/n was at physiotherapy. It was already 6 pm and everyone had gone home except for Y/n and Kyra.

When Y/n finished her physio she went out to look for Kyra, she hadn’t seen her all day long. If Y/n didn’t know herself, she’d think she was getting sappy.

The physio was getting more challenging each day as they added a few more exercises to Y/n’s routine. They were mainly ones on her ankle and feet, the only part not completely surrounded by the cast.

The physiotherapist had told her that they had to do this to protect the nerve and muscle that run through her shin bone down to her foot. It was important, but still very much exhausting.

It was boring too, since Y/n was the only one in the team with an injury at the moment, so she didn’t even have a friend to gossip or chat with while she did physio.

However, Y/n did start to notice some improvements after all. Her balance was getting better and she was able to walk on her crutches without feeling so unstable, which made her more independent again.

It was only a matter of weeks before she could take the cast off completely and start a new course of treatment for her injury, one that would focus more on strength and, hopefully, future rehabilitation and return to football.

Her injury was a big topic in the sports news at the time, as the FIFA date approached and Y/n wouldn’t be called up for the first time in her career.

Anyone who appreciated football knew how important it was for National Teams, mainly for younger players who still hadn’t had their permanent spot within their squads.

Arsenal’s main team was 90 per cent made up of permanent national players, members of the Lionesses, the Matildas and other teams. They already knew they would be called up because of the years they had spent with their respective confederations.

Y/n was one of those permanent players, who didn't have to worry about being called up or not. But this time around was different, Y/n wasn’t worried about the FIFA dates because she was sure she wouldn't be called up this time because of her injury.

It was hard for someone with so many caps not to represent her country. Sure, she had missed a few games for her squad due to minor injuries, but she had missed a whole window convocation.

Her tibia would still be broken and Y/n still on the sideline.

Y/n had cried about it more times than she could count. She felt like a part of her was missing.

It wasn’t just about the game. It was also about her team. Being in camp was one of the most fun experiences for a player. You were surrounded by people you grew up with, who had the same passions and hobbies as you.

Y/n’s absence from the squad due to the injury also meant that she didn’t get to see her teammates as much. It was a second reminder that the injury hadn’t taken away only Y/n’s footballing skills, but also her friends and all the experiences she could share with them.

She tried not to show how upset she was around Kyra. FIFA dates were stressful enough, Kyra didn't need Y/n's bad mood around her too. Especially because Y/n would just whine about it and nothing would happen at the end of the day.

Two weeks before FIFA dates Y/n started to notice subtle changes in Kyra’s behaviour, and she didn’t realise that it could be because of it.

First, Kyra started to be the last one to leave the pitch; then she was the first one to arrive at Arsenal for training, and now it looked like Kyra had made the gym her second home, spending all her free time there doing core and strength exercises while all the other players had gone home.

Kyra was a very skilled player, but she had only just started playing as one of Arsenal’s primary lineups. Months ago she would have come on in the last few minutes of a game, but now she was playing the whole 90 minutes and making a difference in the game.

Fortunately, Renée had given her opportunities and she was able to take them and show what she could do for Arsenal during significant and decisive moments.

But being a main player for a domestic club still didn't give you a spot on the squad. Nonetheless The Matildas. Such a Powerful National Team with a lot of bright stars in it scarred across different countries.

Y/n walked through the halls of Arsenal, heading to the gym, the sound of her crutches against the floor still annoyed her, but she was getting quite used to it.

Y/n found Kyra doing a leg press exercise on one of the machines. She didn't have headphones on, so she heard Y/n right away as soon as she entered the big, spacious room.

“Hi!” Y/n said, lifting up one of her crutches and moving it sideways. “Steph stopped by the physio room and told you we were still here.”

Kyra stopped her movements, keeping her legs on the machine. “Well, yeah, I wouldn't leave without you,” she gave Y/n a cheeky smile. “ I realised today that I really need stronger legs so I decided to stay at the gym a little longer.”

Y/n’s eyes dropped to Kyra’s tanned leg and tights. She was wearing green tracksuit bottoms, the colour contrasting beautifully with her skin. Y/n didn’t think Kyra needed stronger legs, her thighs were already very muscular, so much so that sometimes Y/n just wanted to just take a bite.

But if Kyra wanted them stronger Y/n absolutely wouldn't complain.

“Hey!” Kyra said, pulling Y/n out of her internal monologue.

“What?” Y/n said, blushing slightly.

Kyra's tights were really distracting her.

“You’re looking!”

“Of course, I'm looking, you look hot working out!” Y/n said, taking a seat on one of the resting benches against the wall. She was a few metres away, but she could still see Kyra very well. “And there’s no one here, so I’m allowed to just take a look at you without the others noticing.”

Kyra smiled and rolled her eyes. “Even if the others were here you would still look.”

“I just can’t help it,” Y/n said and blew Kyra a kiss.

As Kyra continued her workout, Y/n picked up her phone and scrolled through Instagram, trying very hard not to be distracted by the pretty girl in gym clothes in front of her.

Since the injury, Y/n tried not to be on social media that much, especially because her whole feed was about football and it still stung her that she hadn’t been on a pitch for a few months.

But Y/n was slowly getting back to who she was before the injury. She definitely wasn’t an influencer, but she was always up to date with the latest trends and news, she loved to keep up with friends and players from other teams. She wanted that part of her back again.

Most of the posts on her dashboard were about the upcoming She Believe Cup, UEFA National Leagues and Copa America, three big tournaments for women’s football.

As she scrolled more, more and more posts appeared about the FIFA dates, along with some predictions about who was going to get called to each squad. Some countries had a bit of drama going on, like England and Australia, while others were pretty much set on who was joining, like the USA.

Some time passed by and when Y/n looked up from her phone she noticed that it was getting late and Kyra still showed no signs of finishing her workout. She was still concentrating on putting more weight on the leg press.

Y/n could see the sweat dripping down Kyra’s neck, and if she wasn’t worried about the look of pain on Kyra’s face, she would be horny again. Kyra was overworking herself.

“Hey Ky,” Y/n called. “What if we go home now? It’s getting late, and you have training in the morning.”

“Just a few more minutes, I want to add one more weight before we go,” Kyra said, not stopping her workout, but the pain in her face said she was done for the day.

“You’ve already added two weights since I’ve been here, you know you’re not supposed to add that much.” Y/n frowned.

“I can do it,” Kyra replied sharply, out of character for her.

“I’m not saying you can’t do it, I’m saying you shouldn't or else you’re going to lift the entire gym” Y/n teased, but Kyra’s response—a distant gaze—told her that this was more than just a workout.

Kyra looked at Y/n and then sighed, leaning further back into the leg press machine. “I just– I need to be in better shape for the next game.”

“Why? You're already in good form, and you did well in the last game,” Y/n said. “Talk to me, what’s wrong, huh?”

Y/n had noticed that Kyra had been too much in her own head lately, but she didn’t want to push too hard—Kyra wouldn’t like that. Still, maybe she needed a little nudge to open up, unlike Y/n, who always ended up talking when she was angry or upset.

Kyra hesitated at first but then she started talking. “I’m scared that if I don't do well in the next game, I won’t get picked up to The Matildas. There are so many girls getting the spotlight right now…”

“What makes you think that Ky? You've been a Matilda for 3 years in a row, there's no reason why they wouldn't call you up now as well, you’ve been consistent.”

“Well, not everyone had a spot saved for them at 16 like you," Kyra said sharply. "Some of us have to keep proving ourselves.”

Okay, Kyra. Ouch.

Was this how Kyra had felt when Y/n lashed out at her because of her injury? Because she hadn’t liked that at all.

Kyra wasn't much younger than Y/n, but she was still a few years younger.

Y/n didn't have a normal football career, she pretty much skipped the Under 21 and 23 and went straight into the main national team when she was in her late teens. She didn't think too much about it, and she thought others didn't either, especially Kyra.

Y/n stayed silent for a few seconds, unsure of what to say. She didn’t appreciate Kyra’s tone, but she knew the girl was hurt. So instead, she swallowed the not-so-nice response that had been on the tip of her tongue and tried to be supportive.

“Ky, don't do that,” Y/n said, her expression softening.

“Come here, let's talk, you look upset,” she continued, patting the bench. “Sit with me? Please?”

Y/n’s words hung in the air, and for a moment, Kyra hesitated, vulnerability replacing anger.

She didn't move right away, but she slowly got out of the equipment and made her way to Y/n, taking the seat next to her.

Kyra looked down, her arms on her knees.

“I didn't mean to say that,” Kyra whispered. “I know you’ve always worked hard.”

“I know, it's alright.” Y/n kissed the girl’s cheek. “Tell me what's bothering you.”

Y/n was always the one person who couldn’t let things go when they hurt her, but with Kyra…it was different. It felt like Y/n and Kyra just shared a sensitive spot for each other like they could see the worst in each other and not think anything bad about it.

Kyra looked around the gym, making sure that no one was around.

“I always get anxious around FIFA dates, even though I’ve been called in the last seasons, I always feel like there’s going to be someone better than me,” she said. “I’m scared that what I’m doing here at Arsenal isn’t enough.”

“Ky, you’re an amazing footballer, your interceptions are one of the best we have right now, as are your tackles,” Y/n said, putting an arm around Kyra and bringing her closer.

“I just don't want to mess up my chances, I feel like if I don't take every chance I’ll never have them again” Kyra murmured, resting her head on Y/n’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth and comfort of her body.

“You can’t treat every opportunity like it’s your last, otherwise you’ll just get anxious and not enjoy everything that comes with them. You have to trust yourself more, don't you hear what Renée says about you? That you’re getting better every day?”

“Didn't Leah tell you last week how mature you were on the pitch? You need to listen to those around you, not just your own head.” she continued, trying to put some perspective into Kyra’s head.

It hurt Y/n to know that Kyra felt that way. But what hurt even more was that Kyra hadn’t told her right away. Y/n wasn’t the best at opening up, but she had always thought Kyra was better at talking about feelings than she was.

It looked like both girls had a long way to go in terms of being vulnerable. Y/n could start to get better at it by paying more attention to Kyra. She had been so focused on her recovery that she hadn’t noticed that the girl next to her was going through a tough time.

Kyra listened carefully to Y/n’s words. It was hard to believe in your own abilities when you were surrounded by so many skilled players from all over the world.

Everyone was waiting for a chance to prove themself.

Kyra was just nervous all the time. Afraid that she would get a pass wrong, or that she wouldn’t be where she needed to be on the pitch.

Y/n’s words gave her some comfort, though. Right now she wasn’t just Y/n—her roommate and… friend with benefits? She was also her long-time teammate and someone Kyra looked up to, both on and off the pitch.

It was hard to talk about how she felt.

Kyra often felt like a little sister to her teammates, both at Arsenal and the Matildas. Sometimes she thought it made them think less highly of her footballing abilities. She feared they would see her as just this kid with big dreams.

With Y/n she never felt that way, Y/n made her feel like an equal, made her feel competent and deserving of everything she had accomplished. Kyra was happy she had Y/n to talk to. It felt good.

“We can always reach out for help, you know,” Y/n said, stroking her thumb on Kyra’s hand. “Arsenal has some sports therapists, you could talk to them.”

“I think that’d be a good idea,” Kyra said after a few moments of silence.

Y/n placed her hand on Kyra’s tight, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I can send an email and book you in if you want. I know you’re busy.

Kyra smiled, kissing Y/n on the lips. “That would be nice, thank you.”

“Good, now let’s go home, please,” Y/n said, patting Kyra’s thigh. “I’m so tired, Leah was right, growing a bone hurts.”

Kyra got up and picked up her bag by the lockers, Y/n behind her.

“I’d give you a piggyback ride to the car but I feel like my thighs had enough work out for the day.”

“I know what would make your thighs feel better,” Y/n said, mischievous in her face. “And it involves my face––”

“Oh my God!” Kyra clapped her hand over Y/n’s mouth, eyes wide.“Does your brain ever take a break from dirty jokes?

“Nope,” Y/n shrugged innocently. “It’s pretty much all I think about since I can’t actually play anymore.” She lifted her crutches for emphasis.

As they stepped into the cool embrace of London’s night, Kyra held the door open for Y/n. “So, you’ll stop once you’re all healed?” she asked teasingly. “Damn, I’ll miss it!”

“Don’t worry” Y/n grinned. “That's part of my charming personality.”

..

| PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3| PART 4 |

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

[woninggg]

sweet relief— 崔胜澈

Seungcheol notices your stress while studying for your final exams and he offers to help relieve it—(NSFW) 𓂃❛꒰🍰꒱❜

The soft rustle of pages turning in the quiet room was the only sound breaking the silence. You sat hunched over your desk, surrounded by textbooks and notes sprawled across the wooden surface.

Your eyes burned with fatigue as you forced yourself to keep studying, knowing you couldn't afford to fail now.

You were particularly losing your mind with the final exam looming closer by the minute, the pressure mounting as you stared at the incomprehensible words and equations blurring before your eyes.

The door to your room creaked open, and in stepped Seungcheol, his eyes widening at the sight of you, your cheeks glistening with tears of frustration. "Baby, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You looked up, your eyes red and stinging. "I can't do this," you murmured, the weight of your words hanging in the air. "I've studied for hours, but it's just not making any sense."

Seungcheol's expression shifted softened as he gently closed the door. "Come on, let's take a break," he said, taking the textbook from your hands. He pulled you out of the chair and led you over to the plush sofa against the wall. "Lie down, I'll give you a massage."

You hesitated, not sure if it was the right thing to do, but the pain in your neck and shoulders was too much to bear.

You laid down, allowing him to start kneading the tension away. His strong, warm fingers dug into your muscles, and despite the initial discomfort, you began to feel a semblance of relief. But as he worked his way down your back, the stress didn't dissipate as you had hoped. Instead, it transformed into something else.

A sudden wave of frustration washed over you, and you couldn't hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill over. Seungcheol's hands stilled, and he leaned over, his eyes wide. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice tight with panic.

You shook your head, unable to find the words to explain. The tension in your body had now completely morphed into a different kind of need, one that was equally as intense as your academic pressure.

"No," you managed to choke out between sobs. "It's just... I'm so tired and... I don't know..."

Seungcheol's panic grew, his hands hovering over your body as he searched for a way to help.

"What is it? Tell me what I can do." His voice was soft, soothing, and it only made the ache between your legs throb harder.

With a sniffle, you looked up at him, the words spilling out in a rush. "It's not the massage, it's just... I'm so stressed, and... and I'm really, really turned on." You buried your face in your hands, embarrassed by your sudden confession.

Seungcheol's eyes widened once again, and his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. He didn't move for a moment, processing your words. Then, his expression softened into understanding, as he gently removed your hands from your face.

"It's okay," he murmured, his thumbs  whipping away your tears. his lips brushed against your knuckles in a tender kiss. "Let me take care of you sweets."

With a gentle touch, he shifted to sit beside you on the sofa. His hand slid down your body, resting just above your hip, giving you the space to decide if you were comfortable with this sudden change of course. "I'm here for you," he assured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Whatever you need."

Taking a deep breath, you looked into his eyes, his willingness to help in any way possible only made your heart swell with affection.

You nodded slowly, giving him the silent permission he needed to proceed. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Let's try something different," he whispered. "Just relax, and let me help you."

He began to unbutton your shirt, his movements deliberate and careful, not wanting to cause any additional distress.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as the fabric parted, revealing your lacy bra. His eyes never left yours, searching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation.

You bit your lower lip, trying to keep your breathing steady, as he slid his hand beneath the material to cup your breast. His touch was gentle at first, as if he was afraid you might shatter at any moment. But as your breath hitched and a soft moan escaped your lips, he grew bolder, his thumb flicking over your nipple until it peaked into a tight bud.

As his fingers danced over your sensitive flesh, your eyes fluttered shut, and your body responded, arching slightly into his touch.

seungcheol kissed a trail down your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin, causing goosebumps to erupt across your body. You could feel the heat pooling between your thighs, and the tension in your muscles began to ease.

He leaned back, his gaze lingering on your swollen nipples before looking back up at you. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He slid his hand down to your shorts, his fingers quickly unbuttoning and unzipping them. With a gentle tug, he pulled them down your legs, revealing the matching lacy underwear that left nothing to the imagination.

His eyes darkened with lust, and he took a moment to appreciate the view before him.

You watched him, your breath coming in ragged gasps, as he slid off the sofa and knelt on the floor. His hands slid over your legs, pushing aside your underwear to reveal your glistening core. He leaned in, his warm breath teasing your folds, sending shivers up your spine. "you good ?" he glanced at your face, his eyes questioning.

Nodding, you whispered a small, "Yes," before leaning your head back. He took that as his cue and pressed a soft kiss against your inner thigh, his hand reaching up to stroke your clit gently. You gasped, your hips jerking involuntarily.

His touch was feather-light at first, building a slow, steady rhythm that had your eyes rolling back in your head. The stress of the exams faded into the background as the only thing that mattered was the way he was making you feel.

Seungcheol's mouth followed his hand, kissing a trail closer and closer to your center. You felt his warm breath against your skin, and your legs fell open wider, inviting him in.

His tongue flicked out, tasting you, and you couldn't hold back the sounds that escaped your lips. The sensation was overwhelming, the stress-induced arousal mixing with the gentle way he was teasing you.

He licked and kissed, exploring every inch of your folds, his touch growing more intense with every passing second.

His mouth closed around your clit, suckling gently, and you gripped the armrests of the sofa, your knuckles turning white. His fingers slid inside you, filling you up and curling in a way that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your toes curling and your breath coming in shallow pants.

"Oh, God, cheol," you moaned, your voice a desperate plea. He looked up at you, and you could see the smug satisfaction in his eyes as he realized how much power he held over you in that moment. He didn't stop, instead increasing the pressure of his mouth and the speed of his fingers.

"I'm gonna cum," you gasped, your eyes squeezed shut as your body tensed. His only response was to suck harder, his tongue flicking rapidly against your clit.

It was as if every nerve in your body had been set on fire, and all you could do was ride the wave of pleasure that crashed over you. Your back arched off the sofa, your muscles relaxing as you screamed his name, the release so intense it was almost painful.

Seungcheol didn't let up, his mouth drinking in your sweet juices as your body relaxed around his fingers. He watched you, his eyes never leaving yours, even as your orgasm began to subside and your breathing slowed to something closer to normal.

He gave one last, lingering kiss to your clit before pulling away, his hands resting gently on your thighs.

You lay there, panting and boneless, staring at the ceiling. The stress of the exams had been momentarily forgotten, replaced by the warm afterglow of your orgasm.

You felt a sense of peace wash over you, and the tension that had been coiled in your stomach began to unravel.

Seungcheol sat back, a smug smile playing on his lips as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Feeling better?" he asked, his voice husky.

"Mm-hmm," you murmured, your cheeks flushed and your body still trembling slightly.

Seungcheol stood up, extending a hand to help you to your feet. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up." He leaned down to leaving a soft kiss on your forehead before sliding his arm under your knees and lifting you into bridal style.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling light and relaxed, as he carried you into the bathroom.

☆ more from woninggg 🐇~

[rhube]

The person who seems to be trying to stir up rage on this thread is the one who keeps using the heading format to scream at you. Wow.

When I originally reblogged the video it was because it echoed my own experience with publishing, if on a much smaller scale.

I engage with both self-publishing and trad publishing. I have had short stories trad published, but have consistently failed to get longer works accepted. Granted, I haven't tried for a long while, but that's at least partly because I do not have a complete work that is commercial enough. Similar things happen in the short story realm, too.

In 2019 I was subbing a story called 'The Village of the Cats', it was a hope punk plague apocalypse story. It was accepted to an anthology specifically looking for alternative takes on apocalypse scenarios. It felt like a great fit, it was going to be a pro rate, it was going to be released at WorldCon, to which I was going. In an email riddled with typos they said they would accept, but there would need to be some changes. I've been an editor and I know how that goes and I was prepared to make reasonable changes. I agreed.

The changes were not reasonable. They wanted to turn my hope punk story darker, and more in line with traditional apocalypse stories where there are roving gangs out for blood. They disagreed with my deliberate choices to not have all technology collapse at once, so people were still able to use the internet for a while. All in all, the wanted to make my alternative apocalypse much more traditional. I tried to work with them. I cut out a large section. I rewrote significant aspects, but they kept wanting more. The base truth was they wanted a story that was not a story I agreed with or wanted to tell. I withdrew the story.

Then a pandemic happened and you couldn't sell pandemic stories anymore.

On the flip side, I self-publish erotica and erotic romance stories under the name Ruby Jones. I know these are not commercial and there are very few trad publishers who publish racy stories anymore. I know there is no point going that route. And I get complete creative freedom! The stories can be as gay and raunchy and weird as I want.

But this has a cost.

I have to do all my own promotion, which is minimal, because I am very sick. That's not just posting about my books, but designing promo images, writing advertising copy, scheduling campaigns, and running multiple social media accounts that can't JUST post ads for my books, because then no one would engage with them.

I also have to do my own editing and proofreading and typesetting. Which, as a professional editor, I know is less than ideal. When I freelanced for a trad publishing house, I knew I was one of SEVERAL proofreaders and copy editors who would work on the same book, and whose changes would be synthesised to send to an author by the commissioning editor they were working with. Trad publishers do this because no one set of eyes is going to catch everything, and that goes double for your own work, because you know what it was supposed to convey, so you may miss where that intention was not achieved.

Trad publishers also have much larger, well-established channels of communication. And advertising budgets.

You get a LOT by going down the trad pub route, and I still want to do that with my non-erotic work. But DO face constraints that don't exist when there's a company that answers to shareholders or venture capitalists. And my friends who have gone the trad pub route (and are successful!) To talk increasingly about the pressure to do their own promo and be an 'influencer', while publishing houses are cutting back on the things that make them worthwhile, like human editing and advertising.

Also, the idea that you can cut down your competition with 'ragebait' is LAUGHABLE. Do you know how many people want to be writers? Want to be traditionally published?

The numbers are HUGE. I had an internship reading slush at Bloomsbury in the early 2000s and it was an eye-opening experience as to the level of competition and what standard or work and happenstance is required to get accepted. It immediately made it clear to me that my work was not there, and I needed to up my game. And that was in, like, 2002? 2003? Over 20 years ago.

The internet has MASSIVELY increased the number of writers. I am convinced of that. Fanfiction, in particular, has given so many more people both the practice and the confidence to write. And for a while, there was an explosion to trad pub venues.

But many of those have closed or been bought by larger, more conservative, more corporate entities. The boom years are over. There are more writers than ever, and now 'AI' wannabe writers clogging editor's inboxes, and far fewer trad pub venues.

Any writer I know will tell you that it's silly to regard other individual writers as your competition. It is a crap shoot to get accepted - to an agent or a publishing company. You need to hit the right person with your best work at the moment at which they think it can sell.

Even if this was a rage bait video (and, like Jess, I did not find it discouraging), even if it discouraged a few thousand people from writing books that probably aren't in direct competition with this author's niche (and if you're discouraged that easily, you won't make it past the myriad rejections anyway), that's just... a drop in the ocean.

Pro-rate magazines typically accept less than 1% of submissions. The big 5 trad publishers don't share their acceptance rates, but I'm betting it's worse odds than that.

Which is why people have agents, who have established records of picking a winner and can sub when there's no slush sub window.

The idea that you could cut down your competition with a video? Please.

You can't. The competition is vast. Which is why any published author I know focuses on their own work first, and supports other authors next. Because there is no point trying to discourage other people. There are 8 billion other people, many of whom write. And attacking other authors (which is what the replies do here, not the original video) is just a way to alienate people.

Other authors are also readers. As a self-pubbed author, they're most of my customers.

Ragging on other authors is just a no-win strategy.

Some truths about the publishing industry because I certainly got blindsided when going in. Now I'm so broken by this industry I struggle to encourage aspiring writers lmao

[inseparabiles]

#highkey envy everybody in the tags#who gets asks like 'please write piss kink yesterday'#where the fuck are you getting your freaks from#high society life has made me so prim and proper#got my pinky up when I drink my fucking tea

would you like write smut like that? is that why you haven't because you don't get asks like that and you would if you did? asking for a friend

It's genuinely. Like don't get me wrong we do like writing our genfic, we do love our all of that that we're doing anyway and people seem to like reading, but it's like

I guess it's been oddly branding? And I don't know if it's that people now take that brand as a "well you wouldn't do this thing and asking it of you would be weird and I'm going to respect your implicit boundaries by not doing it" or if it's more like "we, the audience that you have, want this specific thing that you're already writing and when you part from it it's HIGHKEY WEIRD and OFFPUTTING" or a mix of both but

would we like to get the kind of unhinged requests that we're seeing all over the tags? Get slapped in the face with an ask that's just so out there? Write explicit for the sake of explicit without having to find a better excuse for it? Yes. God. Yes. We would.

[mxltifxnd0m]

all alone? ── . ✶ ruby

summary: ruby loves popping in and bothering you at the most inconvenient times

pairings: bi! ruby 2.0 x bi! reader, ruby x gn afab! reader, mentions of samruby, implied future sam x reader warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, no use of 'y/n', fem pronouns are used, mentions of blood, smut with very little plot, masturbation, use of vibrators, voyeurism (slightly dub-con), fingering, squirting, scissoring, some degradation mixed with praise, some aftercare, in the same universe as motel chats but can be read as a standalone, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own word count: 5.7k a/n: ofc my longest fic for spn had to be smut for ruby LMAO. anyways im a freak for ruby and this may or may not be a prelude to something else i plan to write (hint its mentioned in the fic). also i would add more warnings to this fic but i don't want to spoil anything :p anyways enjoy this you freaks <3 ruby masterlist

SOMETIMES, YOU WONDERED why you were even friends with the Winchesters. You were currently standing in the middle of a living room in this seemingly normal suburban house, covered in the blood and guts of the witch that the three of you just killed.

Well, it's more like she spontaneously combusted in front of you, and conveniently, Sam and Dean weren’t in the splash zone of her body imploding, so they were spared from being sprayed by her insides. 

There wasn’t any inch of you that wasn’t covered in blood. You cried internally about the chunks of flesh in your hair that you would have to wash out with the weak water pressure of the motel shower later. You were just somewhat glad that you weren’t sharing a room with the boys because you would use up all the hot water without hesitation. 

You looked at Sam and Dean—the latter looking like he wanted to laugh at the sight of you while the former had a sympathetic smile on his face at your current state. 

You heard Dean trying to stifle a snicker before he saw your fierce glare on him, pretending to clear his throat. 

“This funny to you Winchester?” You asked him with a raised brow, a plan formulating in your head as you slowly step toward the older Winchester. 

He shook his head, trying to keep a serious face on. “Nope, not at all.” Dean hadn’t registered that you were walking toward him, but Sam, being observant, figured out what you were going to do and took a step back from beside his brother. 

You sent him a smile full of mischief. “Then you won’t mind if I do this.” You quickly darted toward him and hugged him tight. 

Dean didn’t have enough time to move, so his shirt and flannel were getting covered in the witch's blood, making him groan your name out. Sam started to laugh at his brother’s misfortune, and Dean managed to peel you off after squirming in your grip, and it loosened after giggling at the sound of his whining. 

Dean registered that Sam was laughing at him and turned to him, a sly smile on his face. “Hey Sammy, can you come here for a second?” 

“I’m good right here actually.” Sam was by the front door, looking ready to run out of the house, not trusting the smile on his brother’s face. 

“Awe come on! Your brother just wants a hug.” Just as Dean finished his sentence, he rushed toward Sam. 

Sam acted quickly and ran out of the house, Dean’s boisterous laugh filling the air as he chased after his brother. You couldn’t help but smile at the sound. It had been a while since you heard him laugh so freely—the threat of Lilith and the angels had been hanging over the three of you for a while, so it was good to hear the brothers mess around a little and pretend that they didn’t shoulder the weight of the world on their backs. 

You looked around the trashed living room, the results of the chaos that occurred when trying to kill the witch. You sighed, your muscles ached, and you could feel the blood drying on your clothes and skin. You glanced around the living room one last time before heading out of the house and smiled when you saw that Dean managed to catch Sam in an embrace—Dean had managed to wrangle Sam’s tall frame into a headlock. 

You shook your head as you chuckled to yourself at the scene in front of you. You looked around the quiet and empty neighborhood, reminding you exactly where you were. 

You whistled sharply. The high-pitched sound caught the boys’ attention–their heads snapping in your direction.

“We should probably get going, the fight wasn’t exactly quiet.” You told them as  Dean let go of Sam, and he straightened up back to his full height.

They both nodded and followed you towards where the Impala was parked on the curb in front of the witch’s house. 

“Hey, could you try not to get blood on the seats?” 

“Shut up Dean.” 

Sam let out a little laugh at your and Dean’s exchange before the three of you piled into the car and sped away from suburbia and towards the motel you guys were staying in. You were pretty uncomfortable the entire twenty minutes you were in the car; the drying blood on your skin wasn’t a pleasant sensation. So when you arrived at the motel, Dean had barely parked the car when you bolted from the vehicle and to your room, eager to wash the blood and guts of the dead witch off of you. 

After you were done showering and getting dressed, Dean knocked on your door, asking if you were coming with him and Sam to the bar he saw driving in. 

You shook your head. “I’m good. Gonna have an early night in.” 

Dean raised an eyebrow at you before nodding. “See you in the morning then.” 

“See you in the morning.” You confirmed before the two of you traded smiles, and you closed the door with a soft click. 

You let out a small sigh of relief. As much as you loved the boys, you really needed time to yourself. Being confined into a singular room with them and without much privacy led you to feel pent up and sexually frustrated being around two conventionally attractive men at all times.

You weren’t blind to the fact that the Winchesters attracted women (and the occasional man) like moths to a flame. You would have definitely slept with either of them at this point in your years of friendship if you didn’t know any better—which you did. 

Which is why you wanted a room for yourself. You remembered the weird looks they shot you when you came back with two room keys instead of one. You explained that you wanted your own room for once and that the money you used wasn’t even yours, so you might as well use it before ditching it for another card. 

You made your way over to your bag, having left it out on one of the beds in your room, and grabbed the small drawstring bag that held your trusty vibrator and spare batteries. You tossed the small bag on top of the comforter before placing your duffle on the ground and turning off one of the two lamps that were illuminating the room.

You climbed into bed, getting underneath the duvet and thin sheet that the bed was draped in, grabbed the vibrator out of the bag it was in, and set it beside you.

You laid back and closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the mattress. Your hands that were lying idle next to you began to wander. Your fingertips skimmed across your bare thighs, slowly trailing up your leg, bypassing the thin shorts you were wearing and up to the hem of your oversized shirt. 

You let out a soft, almost shuddering breath as your hands made their way up your shirt and reached your bare breasts. Your eyes closed at the sensation of your hands caressing and squeezing at the flesh.

You pinched at your nipples, letting a quiet moan escape you at the spark of pleasure that zipped down your spine. Your underwear was slowly dampening with your arousal as you played with your breasts, the tension you were feeling melting away as you let desire overtake your senses.

One of your hands left your breast and made its way back down your body and underneath your underwear. Another moan left your lips as your fingertips brushed against your clit. You let your fingers swipe up the slick that was leaking from your slit and wet your sensitive nub before playing with it, rubbing at it with some pressure as you gripped your breast tightly in the other hand. The coil in your belly slowly grew tighter and faster than you had expected.

God, how long had it been since you were able to have some playtime by yourself? You couldn’t even answer your own question as lust clouded any other thought in your brain.

Harsh breaths were accompanied by low moans that escaped you as you rubbed at your clit and played with your nipple, but you didn’t want to finish so early, wanting to wring as much pleasure as you could before you went back to sharing a room with the Winchesters. So you stopped, you let go of your boob, and slowly retracted your hand from underneath your underwear.

You felt hot with the layers on you but didn’t mind it. You quickly grabbed the portable wand vibrator from beside you before taking off your shorts from underneath the covers—getting lost in the sheets somewhere.

You shifted further down on the bed, your head now resting fully on the pillows as you brought the vibrator down to your now slightly swollen clit. A rush of anticipation coursed through you as the soft silicone was rubbing against you. You rubbed the wand head through your slick before letting it rest on your clit and turning it on.

A soft moan left you as the wand vibrated on the lowest setting. You bit your bottom lip at the feeling, a sigh leaving you as you leaned into the sensations that the vibrator sent through your weeping cunt. You were so wound up that you didn’t really need to think about anything to try and get off, but it didn’t mean that your mind wasn’t going to conjure anything up.

You thought back on a wet dream that you had of Sam a while back. It was a little mortifying that you had it while sharing a bed with him (it may have caused you not to look him in the eyes for two days)—but you weren’t in bed with him now. Your lust-riddled brain didn’t care enough about your embarrassment of thinking about it at this very moment.

You don’t remember how the dream started, but what you did was fuel your craving and satiate your lust-driven hunger as you turned the vibration up on the wand.

Sam’s hands felt like they were everywhere as you felt his teeth nipping at the soft skin of your neck—driving into you with slow but measured thrusts, hitting your g-spot with precision.

"That feel good, baby? Like it when I stuff my big cock into your tight cunt?” Sam’s voice was dark, almost mocking you as the slapping of skin filled the air along with your whines.

Louder moans left your mouth as the vibrations surged through you, amplifying the pleasure that was flooding your veins. You could feel your body flushing with heat as you slowly began the descent into your orgasm.

“You feel so good around me. Gonna fill you up so much.” Sam groaned into your ear before it turned into a grunt, feeling you squeeze around him tightly.

Sam chuckled. “You want me to fill you up with my cum huh?”

You moaned in response, gripping his shoulders tight as he rammed into you. But a whine erupted from your chest when he halted in his thrusts.

He wrapped his free hand around your throat, your eyes flying open at the feeling, meeting his fiery gaze— a roguish smirk on his face.

“Answer me.”

“Yes, please Sam fill me up. I want it so bad.”

“Good girl.” Sam said before pulling you into a rough kiss and resuming his thrusting, going harder and faster than before—making a choked squeal escape your lips at how rough he was being, but you didn’t mind it for a second.

The coil in you was about to snap. You just needed a little more—

“Hmm, didn’t expect this when I decided to drop by.”

The sudden (and unwanted) voice in your room made you halt in your ministrations. Your eyes flew open as you dropped the wand in between your legs. You shot up from your position on the bed to see Ruby standing by the edge of the bed you were in with a sly smirk on her face—her arms crossed as her dark brown eyes looked over your hot and bothered figure.

A scowl made its way onto your lips. “What the fuck Ruby! Why are you here?”

The demon shrugged. “Well I was here to tell you some info I got on Lilith, but I see interrupted something.”

“You think?” You couldn’t help but grumble. The scowl was still ever-present on your face and deepened further at her words. “Couldn’t you have told Sam instead of ambushing me in my room? Besides, I thought he was your favorite out of the three of us.”

Ruby’s eyes glinted with amusement as her head tilted slightly. “I don’t have favorites, but I will say you climbed up the list from the other time I saw you.”

You knew exactly what she was referring to and narrowed your eyes at her, trying to ignore the fact that she ruined your orgasm and that you were half-naked underneath the blanket.

“Great! I’m so honored that I’ve climbed the ranks.” You snarked as you rolled your eyes. “Sam’s at the bar with Dean, you can tell him there.”

“But I wanted to tell you first.”

“Well, I’m a little busy.”

“Yeah, so busy.” Ruby scoffed at you, uncrossing her arms and settling one of her hands on her hip. “Getting off is a pathetic excuse to try and avoid me.”

Your jaw clenched. “Just get to the point Ruby so we can go our separate ways.”

Ruby pursed her lips before a sly smile grew on her face. “I tell you what I know if you tell me what you were thinking about when you were playing with yourself.”

“What the fuck? No! What is wrong with you?” You looked at her aghast.

Ruby just chuckled at your expression before taking off her leather jacket and starting to crawl up the bed. You couldn’t help but sit up as she slowly made her way to you.

“Come on, its a fair trade don’t you think?” She was on her knees by your side.

“I think our definitions of fair are very different. Besides, you came here to tell me something, not the other way around.”

Ruby rolled her eyes at you as she leaned closer to you. “You’re a real stickler for semantics.”

“Yeah, and you’re a real pain in my ass.”

Ruby chuckled again and leaned even closer to you, her breath fanning over your lips. “You sure know how to sweet talk a girl.”

“It’s not sweet talking when you’re a demon.”

“Really? Not sweet talking? Then why aren’t you leaning away from me?”

You swallowed thickly. You honestly don’t know why you weren’t revolted by the close proximity of the demon in front of you.

Maybe it was the familiar scent of mint, leather, and tequila that brought you back to the night when the two of you slept with each other for the first time, which made you not recoil from Ruby. Or maybe it was because you were still horny, and you had a feeling that Ruby wanted a repeat of what happened last time.

A beat of silence settled between the two of you. Ruby’s eyes flickered from your lips back to your eyes. You couldn’t help but do the same thing, focusing on the plushness of her lips. You remember how soft and warm they were against yours. You blinked before meeting her gaze once more.

“You’re so fucking annoying.” You breathed out before reaching up, grabbing Ruby’s neck, and kissing her roughly.

Ruby couldn’t help but smirk against your lips before kissing you back with the same intensity. She pulled away the duvet that was covering your bare legs before shoving you down back on the bed.

You were a bit breathless from the kiss but barely had time to catch your breath before Ruby’s lips descended back on yours again. Her tongue delved into your mouth, familiarizing herself with your taste again as Ruby slotted herself in between your open legs—her jean-clad center brushing against your bare core.

The harsh material of the denim brushing against your clit made you moan into Ruby’s mouth. Her hands made their way up your legs and to the hem of your shirt. Ruby made quick work of your shirt, her lips leaving yours as she aggressively pulled it off of you, leaving you completely bare to her.

Ruby’s eyes zeroed in on your pussy. It was practically glistening underneath the dim lighting of the room. Her lips quirked up into a smirk before leaning down and pressing her lips against your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin—Ruby’s hands caressing your sides and hips before trailing her lips over the smooth skin of your breasts. She bit lightly at the swell of you breast before she slinked down your body, wet kisses following in their wake.

Your breathing became labored as Ruby reached your cunt. Her kisses were light and teasing in between the soft skin of your inner thighs. She kept you distracted with her teasing kisses. Ruby grabbed the vibrator you were using early and turned it back on, the low hum grabbing your attention.

Your eyes fluttered open, and before you could say anything, Ruby put the silicone head against your clit—a low moan replacing any words that would have fallen from your lips.

Ruby pulled away from your thigh, eyes flickering between your face and leaking pussy. She turned it up to medium speed, a louder moan leaving you at the more intense sensation running through you. Your once-ruined orgasm came hurdling back, the coil winding tighter and tighter and threatening to snap.

“You going to tell me about what you were thinking about earlier?.” Ruby hummed out.

“Y-you mean before you so rudely interrupted?” You could barely spit the words out. Pleasure overwhelmed your senses. “N-not going to h-happen.”

Ruby let out a low chuckle, moving the vibrating head from your clit and running in through your wet slit, lubricating it. “Should’ve known you were going to be stubborn about it.” She murmured before ripping the toy away from you completely.

A frustrated groan left you as you squeezed your eyes shut. This was the third time that you were on the cusp of an orgasm, and honestly, you were close to just pushing Ruby away and doing the job yourself. There was no way you were telling her anything about what you were thinking about.

“The sooner you tell me the sooner you can come.” Ruby was rubbing the slightly slick head of the toy in the crease of your hips. She could tell you were wearing down on the idea, so she put the toy back on your clit.

A pleasure gasp left you. “I- fuck. I was thinking about the last time we slept together.” You were not going to tell her the truth if your life depended on it.

Ruby laughed softly. ““Hmm, I’d be flattered if you were telling the truth.” She moved the toy away from you again before moving up your body, stopping when her clothed figure was draped over yours.

“Tell me the truth and I’ll make you come. It’s as simple as that.” Ruby had a saccharine smile as she batted her eyelashes almost coquettishly at you.

Your lips twisted up in a snarl, irritation flooding your features as you stared at Ruby.

“I bet you were thinking about Sam fucking you.” Ruby’s words made your stomach twist.

You cleared your throat roughly.” How did you-”

“Spells come in handy babe.” Ruby winked at you before moving back down in between your legs again.

You vaguely remember Sam mentioning who Ruby was before she became a demon, and you could only imagine what she did to know what you were thinking about. You jumped at the sudden sensation of buzzing again your already abused clit.

“Was Sam eating you out? Or was he fucking you?” You couldn’t help but clench around nothing at her words. You had no idea why this kind of talk was turning you on so much.

Ruby nipped at your thigh. “Answer me.”

You let out a moan at the familiar words. “Shit, h-he was fucking me.”

“Mmm, hard and rough right? That’s how he usually fucks me.” The sudden image of Sam and Ruby fucking increased the pleasure you were feeling. A keening whine erupted from your chest at the feeling of Ruby’s fingers filling you alongside the toy that was pressed hard against your sensitive nub.

“Ooh, you like that? Do you like the thought of me and Sam fucking each other? Oh who am I kidding, I can feel you clench around my fingers like the whore that you are.”

Ruby’s dexterous fingers were able to find your g-spot with ease and hit it with deadly accuracy. You could feel an unfamiliar but not unwelcome pressure building in your lower abdomen. Your moans echoed throughout the room, along with the buzz of the vibrator against your swollen clit.

“So needy, wanting to fuck me and him at the same time. I bet Sam would like the idea of you joining us.” Ruby cooed, but it almost fell deaf on your ears as your orgasm was building and threatening to spiral out of control.

“I can see it now, Sam fucking you from behind as you eat me out. Or you sitting on his face as I ride him. It sounds like a whole lot of fun to me.” A wide grin was on her face as Ruby felt you squeeze her fingers hard as moans tumbled from your lips.

The scenarios that Ruby was describing were vivid in your mind. The pressure in your abdomen burst, and you all but shouted in pleasure, your orgasm blinding any and all of your senses.

Ruby let out a breathy laugh at the sight of you squirting—soaking the toy, her fingers, and your thighs. She kept moving her fingers in and out of you slowly but removed the toy from your clit and turned it off, tossing it on the other side of the bed.

You could faintly feel a dampness between your legs, but you paid no mind to it as you tried to recover from the pleasure overload you just experienced. You’ve never come that hard before, and it took you a bit to try to calm down. You heard rustling coming from Ruby, but you ignored her as you inhaled deeply and exhaled shakily.

By the time you recovered and peeled your eyes open, you were met with the sight of a nude Ruby hovering over you. You took in her vessel’s tanned skin that was dotted with beauty marks, matching the ones on her face.

“Like what you see?” Ruby teased as her lips brushed against yours.

You didn’t bother with replying, not wanting to give her any kind of satisfaction of a response. Instead, you lifted your head up to capture her lips between yours. It was a softer kiss compared to the ones you shared earlier, but it did the job.

Ruby sunk into the kiss as you reached for her waist. One of your hands made its way up her back, scratching it lightly before you grabbed some of the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled at it. She moaned lightly into your mouth as the two of you kissed.

Ruby pulled away from the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip before removing herself entirely from you. She sat up and grabbed your left leg, moving it so your legs were wide open and maneuvered, so she was almost straddling your leg, but you understood her intention immediately.

Before she could place her pussy against yours, you brought up your hand and rubbed at her wet slit. Fuck she was soaked. You immediately inserted two of your fingers into her.

Ruby let out a husky moan at the feeling of your fingers filling her up, and you pumped them in and out of her a couple of times before she swatted at your hand, making you retract your hand from within her.

You let out a small laugh before it turned into a moan as Ruby placed her wet cunt against yours. She let out a satisfied sigh at the feeling of your pussy rubbing against hers. Ruby started a slow grind against you, moans and whines leaving the both of you as the two of you scissored.

“Fuck, babe, you feel so good against me.” Ruby’s voice was thick with pleasure as her hips started to pick up speed. “We need to do this more often.”

You couldn’t answer her but grabbed her hips to help her move against you. You slapped her ass before gripping it tight and trying to create more friction for the two of you. The two of you were uncaring about how loud you guys were as the both of you surrendered to the desire running through your veins.

Although Ruby was feeling her orgasm building, she felt like something was missing. Her eyes went to the toy she just used on you earlier before meeting your eyes. You caught on to what Ruby wanted, so she stopped her movements so you could grab your vibrator.

Once you did, you turned it on—Ruby lifted her hips from yours so you could place the toy in between the two of you before she lowered herself again.

“Fuck!” You and Ruby exclaimed simultaneously. Your moans got even louder with the added addition of the vibrator in between the two of you. You held on to it while your other hand rested on her hips—Ruby’s hands were on your left leg, using it as leverage as her hips moved rapidly.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” You managed to say in between your moans. You could feel the familiar coil winding up in your abdomen.

Ruby nodded. “Fuck, yeah same m’close.” She started to grind harder against you and the toy, sending more heat down your spine, and the tell-tale sign of your orgasm was soon approaching.

“Come with me.” You said as you squeezed her hip hard, your nails biting into her skin. The sharp sting of pain sent a bolt of pleasure down her spine as she nodded.

Ruby’s hips began to stutter and falter as her orgasm hit her, but she was able to keep moving against you, and you soon followed her; your grip on the wand fell. Your and Ruby’s moans filled the motel room as you came together.

Ruby was barely able to lift herself away from your soaked overstimulated pussy. She fell on top of your relaxed leg, pinning it to the bed as you fumbled with the vibrator, just barely mustering up the ability to turn it off.

The room felt warm as labored breaths filled the silence between you and the demon. After Ruby caught her breath, she lifted herself off of your leg, and when she looked back, you were fast asleep. She let out a low chuckle at the sight of you.

Ruby got up from the bed, grabbed your vibrator, and went into the bathroom, cleaning herself quickly and the toy before using a warm, damp washcloth and going back into your room and cleaning you up. You barely stirred as she did, and once she was done, Ruby moved you to the spare bed in your room.

Her stare lingered on your serene face before shaking her head. If Sam’s puppy dog eyes couldn’t make her cold body feel warm then she couldn’t make an exception for his friend. Ruby quickly left your room, trying to drill into her mind the real reason why she was there and “helping out” the Winchesters. But it didn’t mean she couldn’t have fun with you and Sam before everything unfolded.

BONUS!

⤷ Sam’s POV:

Dean had ditched him at the bar, finding someone to go home with the night. He had tossed him the keys and sent him a wink before following the brunette that captured his attention for the night.

Sam shook his head at his brother, but he was glad that he could sleep in a bed tonight and not in the Impala. Soon after Dean left, Sam didn’t feel the need to stay at the bar any longer, so he made his way to the Impala.

Sam secretly wished that you had come with them so he didn’t have to deal with Dean alone, but he understood why you didn’t come after Dean told him when he got back in the room they were sharing before leaving for the bar.

The drive to the motel was pretty short, and Sam was ready to relax and decompress from today’s events. He made his way to his room, glancing at your door briefly. He was debating on knocking on your door but refrained, knowing that you were tired from the day that you had.

Sam unlocked the room, stepped into the dimly lit room, and closed the door behind him. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on the edge of the bed next to him as he sat down—the bed spring creaking under the sudden weight. He laid back on the bed, attempting to sink into the stiff mattress before letting out a low sigh.

Sam’s eyes fluttered shut. He wanted to rest for a bit—Sam wasn’t in a rush to get ready for bed since he didn’t have to fight for the shower with Dean.

The room was relatively quiet, save for the occasional car driving down the street. Sam could feel the exhaustion pulling at him, and as tempting as it was to succumb to the feeling, he wanted to shower the day off.

But before he could get up from the bed, a muffled moan caught his attention. Sam sat up slowly, his brows furrowing at the sudden sound. But it shouldn’t surprise him that people were having sex in this motel and the fact that the walls were thin enough to hear the noises.

Another moan filtered into his ears. It was louder this time and seemingly closer. He shook his head and went to get up from the bed before the moans grew louder and louder, and he realized it was coming from the room next to him. Your room.

His eyes widened. Oh. Sam thought as he tried to ignore your whines through the thin walls of the motel rooms. Is that why you didn’t want to come with them to the bar? Because you needed to relieve your sexual frustration, and that’s why you got a separate room from them? Now your shortness with him and Dean made more sense.

Sam’s mind ran through these thoughts as the moans kept growing in volume. A sharp squeal echoed into his room, and he couldn’t help his body’s reaction to the noises coming from your room, his cock hardening in his jeans. Sam knew that he should stop listening in and go into the bathroom and take the coldest shower to man until you eventually stopped or fell asleep.

But his slightly inebriated state didn’t want him to move from his spot. He swallowed hard before unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. Sam barely pulled down his jeans and boxers—just enough to pull his cock out, now fully hard and beginning to leak precum.

Sam spit into his hand before slowly stroking his length. A low sigh left his lips as he fell back onto the bed. Fuck you sounded so good. His eyes closed involuntarily as his eyes provided him images of you splayed out on the bed, playing with your pretty pussy— it had to be. There wasn't an inch of you that he didn’t admire— a groan left him as his hand slowly sped up, letting the lust he felt run through him and warm him inside and out.

Then there was a loud shout of pleasure before there was a lull of silence in the room, making him halt in his stroking—his hand still on the base of his cock. Sam had to strain his ears to try and hear your low voice through the walls, but couldn’t decipher what you were saying. Did you have someone else in the room with you? He couldn’t help but feel a spark of irritation at the thought as envy filled his veins.

“Fuck!” He heard you exclaim through the walls. It sounded louder than it should have, but then a higher-pitched moan came through the wall. Why did it sound familiar? The thought was a fleeting one before he started to fuck his fist again.

Sam expected a deeper moan following what he assumed to be your noises, but it was a more feminine moan that came after yours. Sam’s face flushed with heat, and thrusted into his hand harder when he realized that you were with another woman. Shit, that’s hot. Fuck I wish I was in her room watching them right now.

The moans grew louder and louder, and Sam could feel his orgasm fast approaching—his dick was twitching in his hand, and more precum trickled from his tip and down his length, using it as a lubricant along with his spit.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Sam heard you say through the wall.

“Come f’me pretty girl.” Sam murmured in response. He felt his balls draw up as his abs clenched in anticipation—feeling his pleasure zip up his spine.

A low grunt left his lips at the sound of your keening whine that practically reverberated off the walls and directly into his ears. Warm spurts of his cum coated his hand and some landed on his lower stomach—Sam had managed to pull up his shirt right before he came. He was grateful that he did, not wanting a ribbing from Dean the next time they went to do laundry.

Sam laid down on the bed for a moment, trying to recollect himself. Both rooms were silent, so he assumed that you and your partner for the night had fallen asleep.

Sam got up from the bed, tucking himself back into his pants, and quickly made his way to the bathroom. He hastily stripped off his clothes and got into the shower, trying to ignore the guilt that was settling in his gut as he cleaned off his cum and the rest of the day off.

Post-nut clarity was a bitch.