#BUT DESPERATE TIMES CALL FOR DESPERATE MEASURES

[tqlepatia]

Pheromones perfume with sevika because she was angry and ignoring you so you took matters in your own hand

Pheromones perfume. ─ suggestive ( since I don't write smut often )

Sevika had been in one of her moods — brooding, jaw tight, and giving you the silent treatment like a professional. No amount of sweet talking or teasing had broken her stubborn resolve. You weren't even sure what had set her off this time, but you'd had enough of being ignored.

So, naturally, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

The pheromone perfume had been an impulse buy, sitting unused on your vanity for weeks. You never thought you'd actually wear it, but desperate times called for desperate measures. One spritz to your neck, a dab on your wrists, and you were ready for war.

Sevika was in the living room, sprawled on the couch, arms crossed over her chest, pretending to watch some mindless show. The moment you walked in, her head turned ever so slightly.

“Hey,” you greeted casually, standing a little too close as you leaned on the back of the couch.

Her nose twitched.

“New perfume?” she asked, voice low, skeptical.

“Mm, yeah. You like it?”

She grunted, trying to play it cool, but her eyes flicked to your neck, lingering just a bit too long.

You bit back a grin, brushing your fingers through your hair, subtly wafting the scent toward her. “Thought I'd switch things up. You know, since someone's been all grumpy.”

Her lips twitched, almost betraying a smile, but she fought it off. “Not grumpy,” she muttered, though her voice had lost its edge.

“Oh, sure. You're a ray of sunshine,” you teased, leaning down so your lips were close to her ear.

Sevika shifted, clearly uncomfortable — not from annoyance but from the sudden heat crawling up her neck. Her jaw clenched tighter, but her pupils were blown wide now, betraying her composure.

“You're doing this on purpose,” she accused, voice husky.

“Me? Never,” you said innocently, brushing past her arm as you circled the couch.

Before you could get far, her hand shot out, gripping your wrist. Her touch was firm, possessive. “Careful, bby,” she warned, though there was no real threat in her voice, only desire simmering beneath.

You smiled sweetly, knowing you'd won. “Or what?”

Her eyes darkened. “Or I’ll remind you who you're teasing.”

that predatory gleam you knew so well sparking to life. In one swift motion, she tugged you down onto her lap, your knees straddling her thick thighs. The heat radiating from her body was intoxicating, making your head spin.

"You think a little perfume's all it takes to get me worked up?" she murmured, her lips ghosting over your neck, just shy of contact.

"You tell me," you whispered breathlessly, tilting your head to give her access.

Sevika let out a low, gravelly chuckle, her breath hot against your skin. "You're trouble, you know that?"

Her hand slid up your thigh, calloused fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The teasing brush of her thumb against your hip made your pulse race.

"And you're stubborn," you countered, barely able to keep your voice steady as her mouth finally found your neck, lips and teeth dragging over sensitive skin.

"Stubborn enough to make you beg," she growled, nipping at your pulse point just hard enough to make you gasp.

Your fingers tangled in her short hair, nails scraping against her scalp as you pressed closer. "Pretty sure you're the one who broke first," you managed to taunt, though your voice was shaky with need.

Sevika's eyes flicked up, sharp and dangerous, a slow grin spreading across her face. "Is that right, princess?" Her voice was low, teasing, but there was an edge to it—a warning.

Her hand slid down your back, rough fingers tracing along your spine before settling firmly on your hip. "to confident for someone shaking like a leaf," she murmured, her lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"I'm not—" The words caught in your throat as Sevika's hand moved lower, slipping under your skirt without hesitation.

"Not what?" she whispered, voice dripping with smug amusement. "Not nervous? Not completely at my mercy?"

Your breath hitched as her fingers brushed against bare skin, teasing along your thigh. "Sevika..."

"Hmm? What's that, bunny?" Her tone was infuriatingly cocky now, her hand unapologetically exploring, fingers curling just enough to make your legs tremble.

"You—"

"Me?" she interrupted with a smirk, pressing a little harder, her breath hot against your neck.

A shiver ran through you, words lost in the heat between you both as Sevika claimed every ounce of control you'd thought you had.

[skyblueartt]

Hi everybody!! I’ve never done this before, but I thought I’d give it a shot, since I’m hurtin for money a little bit :’) I’m a college kid in the US going to school to be a teacher, and with my schedule/placements in a school, and also the hours my current job is open- I can’t work much right now. So I figured I'd give the whole commission thing a shot ahhh!

*I can also take payments via cashapp!

If anybody is interested, please either send me an ask or leave a comment! Thank you!!

[baekhyunsbestie]

⟢ : N 2 DEEP !?

BABY THAT P*SSY WAS

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ SO WORTH THE WAIT!

I WASN'T IN LOVE WITH

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ NONE OF THEM ANYWAY!

★ had a req for virgin!reader and another for baekhyun's pov n i thot???? why not wake my ovulation demon up by combining the two!!! experienced!baekhyun talking virgin!reader through it??? uh, yeaaaaah, sign me tf up 🫦

★ content: 18+/mdni. 3.4k+ words. baekhyun’s pov. baekhyun x virgin f!reader. ex-playboy!baekhyun. yandere!baekhyun. pet names: baby, angel, sweetheart, etc. also calls you his good girl <3333333 literally just pwp!! fingering + oral (fem receiving). virginity loss. p in v. breeding kink. bulge kink. creampies (baek's got breeder balls). overstimulation. raw juseyoooooo <3

i used to be a different man.

selfish. reckless. untouchable.

i lived for the chase, for the thrill, for the fleeting satisfaction of a conquest already won before the game even began. the night always ended the same—someone pressed against me, lips searching, hands wandering, desperate to be the one i wouldn’t forget.

but i always forgot.

because none of it mattered.

i had everything—looks, charm, a reputation that did all the work for me. doors opened before i even knocked. women sought me out, fingers grazing my skin before i could learn their names, their lips curving into coy smiles as they whispered empty promises in my ear.

they wanted to be wanted.

they wanted to tame me.

and for a while, i let them believe it was possible. let them think they were different, let them pretend they meant something.

but they never did.

because i never stayed.

i played the game, flashing lazy smirks, murmuring all the right words at all the right moments. i gave just enough to keep them coming back, just enough to make them believe there was something real buried underneath it all.

but there wasn’t.

love was just a pretty lie people told themselves so they wouldn’t feel alone.

then she came along.

the first girl who didn’t look at me like i was something to win. the first girl to look at me like i was an actual fucking person.

she was different from the moment i met her—poised, careful, untouchable in a way that made my fingers itch with the need to unravel her.

she didn’t lean in when i spoke. didn’t soften under the weight of my gaze. didn’t lower her walls just because i smiled at her.

she wasn’t impressed.

and fuck, that made me want her more.

but she was cautious. too cautious.

when i stepped closer, she took a step back. when i spoke, she met my eyes but kept her distance. she wasn’t rude—she was polite, measured, controlled in a way that told me she had already heard the stories.

she knew who i was.

what i was.

and she wanted nothing to do with me.

i should have walked away. found someone easier. someone who wouldn’t make my chest ache with frustration and longing.

but i couldn’t.

i wanted her. no—i needed her.

for the first time in my life, i chased.

and god, i chased hard.

i stopped looking at other women, stopped entertaining the attention that used to thrill me. stopped indulging in meaningless touches, in flirtation that never led anywhere real.

none of it mattered.

not if it wasn’t her.

so i waited.

for months, i played the long game. carefully. intentionally. i let her set the pace, let her keep her distance, let her watch me until she was ready to believe that i meant it.

and when she finally did—when she finally let me in—

i fell.

harder. deeper. completely.

and now, when she looks up at me with those wide, trusting eyes, her body trembling beneath mine, offering me the one thing she’s never given anyone else, i know—

she’s mine.

there’s no walking away now. no pretending this is something casual, something temporary.

because this? this is everything.

she is everything.

her skin is warm beneath my lips, trembling ever so slightly as i kiss my way down her body. every little shiver, every breathy sigh—i drink them in, savor them. she’s so sensitive, so responsive, it makes my stomach tighten with something primal, something possessive.

she doesn’t even know.

doesn’t know what she does to me, how long i’ve been waiting, craving, aching for this moment. she’s stretched out beneath me, bare, untouched, soft in a way that makes my teeth grind and my blood run hot. she’s mine, even if she doesn’t understand it yet.

her hands fist the sheets, her chest rising and falling in shaky, uneven breaths. she’s nervous. i can feel the tension in her thighs, the way her body trembles slightly under my touch.

“baby,” i murmur, smoothing my hands down her sides, slow and careful, feeling the way her stomach flutters beneath my touch. “are you sure?”

she nods, but i see the hesitation flickering in her gaze, the uncertainty in the way she swallows hard, like she’s trying to work up the courage to say it out loud.

so i guide her.

i catch her chin between my fingers, tilting her face up, forcing her to look at me.

“tell me,” i say softly, my thumb brushing along the curve of her jaw.

her lips part, but no words come out.

“sweetheart,” i whisper, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, my voice gentle, firm, steady. “if you’re not ready, we don’t have to—”

“i am.”

her voice is quiet but certain, her fingers tightening around my arms like she’s afraid i might pull away.

“i want to do this. with you. i want you, baekhyun.”

fuck.

i exhale slowly, pressing my forehead against hers, breathing her in.

“i’ve waited so long for you,” i murmur, tracing my fingers over her collarbone, watching the way her pulse flutters beneath my touch.

she exhales shakily, hands sliding up my chest, warm and tentative.

“yeah? for how long?”

“since the first night i met you.”

her breath catches. “b-but i—”

“hah, i know,” i chuckle, cutting her off, my lips ghosting over hers. “you didn’t want anything to do with me, huh?”

she swallows, looking guilty, but i kiss her before she can apologize.

“you were right to be cautious,” i murmur against her lips. “but i changed for you, sweetheart. i waited for you. i’d do it again if it meant i could have you like this. all to myself.”

her hands cup my face, her thumbs brushing over my cheekbones, and for a moment, she just looks at me.

searching.

memorizing.

and i let her see everything.

the devotion.

the patience.

the undeniable, unshakable truth that she belongs to me now.

she trusts me.

and i'll fucking die before i break that trust.

so when i spread her open, pressing my lips between her thighs, i take my time.

i let her feel every slow, deliberate touch, every lingering kiss, every whispered praise.

she’s already trembling, body pliant under my hands, her thighs twitching where they frame my shoulders. warm, soft, dripping for me, waiting. she doesn’t even realize how far gone she is, how much i’ve unraveled her already.

“so fuckin’ wet for me, sweetheart—so fuckin’ sweet,” i murmur, voice thick, heavy with heat. my tongue flicks against her, teasing, coaxing, savoring.

a sharp gasp escapes her lips, her fingers tangling in my hair, trying to push me closer, trying to pull me away—she doesn’t know what she wants anymore.

i groan into her, drunk on the slick coating my lips, my chin, my fingers. “shh,” i soothe, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh, holding her down as she squirms beneath me. “just relax, love. lemme take care of you.”

she’s still trembling when i slide a finger inside her, feeling her tense, feeling the way her walls clutch around me, untested and impossibly tight.

“breathe, angel,” i whisper, my free hand smoothing over her stomach, pressing down lightly, making her feel every motion, every stretch. “you’re doing so well.”

she whimpers, a broken sound, her hands fisting the sheets. overwhelmed. drowning.

“hey,” i murmur, my tone firm, commanding, anchoring her. “look at me, baby.”

her eyes find mine, wide, unfocused, wrecked.

“ya feel that?” i breathe, curling my fingers just right, stroking that spot that has her back arching off the bed. she lets out a sharp cry, her thighs clamping around my head. “that's how you’re gonna feel when i fuck ya full of my cock.”

she trembles, gripping at my arms, teetering on the edge, fighting the stretch but craving more.

i press another kiss to her clit before pulling back, watching her.

she looks ruined—flushed, panting, trembling, her lips swollen from biting them too hard.

and i haven’t even started.

“want you to count for me, angel,” i instruct, pressing my fingers deeper inside her, twisting them just enough to make her whine.

“h-huh?”

i smirk, dragging my tongue up her slit, flicking against her clit before pulling back. “every time you cum, i want ya to count. think ya can do that for me?”

she nods, but i grip her thigh, making her gasp.

“words, baby.”

“y-yes,” she stutters, already breathless. “i can.”

“that’s my good girl,” i praise, before sealing my mouth over her again, sucking her clit into the heat of my tongue.

she thrashes, moaning, pulling at my hair as i work her open, fucking her with my fingers, curling just right, coaxing, dragging, pulling her under.

“baek—i—oh my god—fuck!” her words dissolve into broken sobs, her body tensing, her orgasm slamming into her, making her shake apart beneath me.

“one,” i murmur against her soaked skin, kissing her clit as she writhes.

but i don’t stop.

i don’t give her time to recover before i press my tongue against her again, relentless, insatiable.

“too much—” she chokes out, but her body betrays her, hips grinding into my face, chasing more.

“mm, mm, baby,” i groan, fucking my fingers into her deeper, letting her feel it, letting her drown in it. “’m not stoppin’ ‘til i hear ya count again.”

she sobs, her thighs trembling, but she can’t resist me, can’t fight the way i make her feel, can’t stop the next wave from crashing over her.

“t-two,” she gasps, barely a whisper.

i smirk, dragging my tongue slow and deep over her folds.

“good girl. now gimme another.”

i pull her back in, take her apart again, and again, and again.

by the time she hits four, she’s shaking so hard she can barely breathe, her voice breaking on my name, her body helpless, pliant, wrecked beneath me.

i finally pull back, wiping my chin with the back of my hand, watching her struggle to open her eyes, her chest heaving, her skin flushed all over.

“you okay, angel?” i murmur, brushing her damp hair back from her face.

she barely manages a nod, eyes glazed, lips parted, her body still twitching from the aftershocks.

i hover over her, pressing soft kisses along her jaw, her temple, her lips—reassuring her, grounding her.

“you did so well,” i praise, kissing her softly, gently, letting her feel just how much i adore her.

but then i press my cock against her entrance, dragging the thick head through the mess i made of her.

“now,” i whisper, voice dark with intent. i let the tip of my cock drag through the slick mess between her thighs, teasing her, pressing against her entrance but not pushing in yet. her breath stutters, her hips instinctively rolling up, chasing friction.

so desperate already. so easy to ruin.

“let’s see if ya can count for me again.”

her eyes flutter open, glazed over, unfocused. her lips are swollen, bruised, parted as she pants, barely catching her breath from how i’ve already wrung her out. but she’s still hungry for more. she’s still gripping at my arms, still trembling beneath me, waiting for me to give it to her.

“this is the part where you tell me if you want to stop,” i murmur, even though i already know she won’t.

she doesn’t hesitate.

“i don’t want you to stop.”

mine.

fucking mine.

the second i push in, i know i’m fucked.

not just in the way i’m used to—not in that fleeting, skin-deep, feel-good-for-a-moment kind of way. this is different. she is different. and the way she’s clenching around me, the way she’s looking at me like i’m the only person in the world—i’m done for.

i’ve had plenty before. too many to count. never cared to remember. i’ve fucked for the sake of fucking, for release, for the thrill of it. but this? this isn’t just sex. this is something i need. something i’ll never be able to forget, even if i wanted to.

she’s so tight, so warm, gripping me like she was made for me, and the thought alone nearly sends me over the edge. no one’s ever felt like this before. no one’s ever been like this before.

i watch her face, see every little change—the way her brows pinch, her lips part, her breath stutters. i know it’s her first time, and fuck, the thought of being the first and only makes something primal claw at my insides. i have to breathe through it, force myself to stay in control, because all i want to do is claim. mark her, ruin her, make sure she never forgets this either.

“you okay?” i rasp, voice rough, strained. i don’t even realize how hard i’m gripping her hips until i see the way my fingers dig into her skin.

she nods, lips trembling just slightly. “y-yeah. i’m good, baby. it’s okay, keep going.”

i press in deeper, slow, deliberate, letting her feel every inch. her nails bite into my arms, her thighs tense around me, and fuck, she’s taking me so well. too well. i can’t think straight. i can’t fucking breathe.

“so fuckin’ perfect,” i murmur, my forehead dropping against hers. my heart’s hammering in my chest, my pulse racing, but it’s not just from how good she feels—it’s her. it’s the way she looks at me, the way she trusts me, the way i know—i know—i can never go back after this.

she gasps, her nails digging into my back, legs wrapping around me to hold me there, like she needs me to fill every inch of her.

i kiss her temple, soothing her even as she clenches around me, whispering into her skin.

“breathe, baby,” i murmur, stroking her hair back, kissing her cheek, her jaw. “you’re doing so well. it’s okay. you can let me in.”

i go slow.

soft kisses. whispered encouragement. steady hands keeping her safe.

when i bottom out, when she takes all of me, i groan against her lips, my arms tightening around her.

“baekhyun,” she whispers, voice trembling, wrecked, drowning in me. “y'feel so—hah—so good.”

“oh, yeah? so do you, baby,” i breathe, rolling my hips, slow but deliberate, savoring the way she clenches down on me. fuck, she’s tight—gummy walls hugging my cock, gripping me like a fucking vice. like she doesn’t want to let me go.

like she couldn’t even if she tried.

it’s taking everything in me not to lose it, not to fuck her too hard, not to fill her up right here and now.

“you’re mine, baby,” i murmur against her lips, voice thick with need. i slide a hand up, cradling her cheek, my thumb tracing her lips. “you’re doing so well.”

her breath stutters, breaking into a moan as she tries to adjust, fingers dragging down my back, pressing her nails into my skin. she’s trusting me, giving me everything.

“that’s it,” i praise, voice soft but firm, kissing her temple, the corner of her mouth, anywhere i can reach.

when she starts moving with me, when she stops fighting it, stops trying to hold herself back—

i reward her.

“so, so good for me,” i murmur, kissing her deep, swallowing her little cries as i thrust into her, rolling my hips slow, deep. “so fuckin’ perfect, baby. taking me so well.”

her legs tighten around me, heels digging into my lower back, pulling me in, keeping me there.

“god, i fuckin' love you,” i rasp, the confession slipping past my lips, raw and unfiltered.

she whimpers, pulling me closer, chest to chest, breath mingling with mine.

“i love you, too, baby,” she gasps, voice shaking, wrecked.

then—

“hah—sh-shit, baek. you’re s-so big,” she whimpers, head tilting back. “i can feel you right here.”

her trembling hand presses against her lower stomach.

and i see it.

the thick outline of my cock bulging through, stretching her open, proof of how fucking deep i am.

and it fucking breaks me.

“holy shit—” i groan, something primal snapping inside me as my hips snap forward, pounding into her, fucking her harder, rougher.

her cry is sharp, breathless, her fingers curling into the sheets as she takes it, lets me chase my release, lets me ruin her.

“nngghh—fuck, baby,” i pant, dropping my head to her shoulder, my teeth grazing her skin before biting down, leaving a deep mark against her collarbone. “gonna fuckin’ cum—gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

i spill inside her, my body locking up as i empty myself, pumping thick, hot ropes of cum deep into her.

but i don’t stop.

my cock is still throbbing, still rock-hard, still buried deep inside her, and she flinches when i pull back just enough to thrust in again.

“b-baekhyun—i can’t!” she gasps, nails digging into my arms, her body shaking from how sensitive she is.

i groan, grinding deeper, my forehead dropping against hers.

“shh, baby,” i whisper, pressing kisses to her cheek, her jaw, her swollen lips. “you can take it. i know ya can.”

she whimpers, body arching into mine, her walls fluttering around me, already on the verge of another orgasm.

“ya feel that, baby?” i rasp, pressing my palm over her stomach, feeling myself inside her. “that’s all me.”

i shift, angling my hips just right, and she cries out, her head tilting back, her throat exposed, body trembling beneath me. her nails rake down my arms, dragging over my back, leaving angry red lines in their wake. marking me. claiming me. and fuck, it only fuels me.

makes me want to give her more.

makes me want to fuck her so good she doesn’t just feel me now, but tomorrow. for days.

her back arches off the bed, hips lifting to meet every deep, controlled thrust, chasing it, needing it. and i give it to her, steady and deliberate, my cock pulsing inside her, my body working hers open all over again.

“gonna fill ya up again, sweetheart,” i groan, voice hoarse, raw with hunger. “gonna take care of you. you want that, right?”

“yes, baek! fuck—wanna milk you dry. wanna have your babies,” she moans, her voice breaking against my lips, her legs tightening around me, keeping me locked in, keeping me buried so deep i can barely think straight.

and fuck—hearing her say it, hearing how filthy she sounds, how much she wants this, wants me—it nearly unravels me right there.

i could cum from that alone.

but i want to cum with her this time.

want to fuck it back into her while she arches her back, while she moans against my lips like she’s singing for me, like every sound she makes is meant for me and me only.

“that’s it, baby,” i whisper, my lips brushing over hers, coaxing, guiding, leading her exactly where i want her. “just let go. let me have you.”

and she does.

she falls apart beneath me, her body tensing, her walls fluttering, squeezing me tight—too tight—like she’s trying to pull me deeper, drag me under with her. her moans crack into sobs, her thighs trembling as the pleasure overtakes her completely, raw and overwhelming.

“f-five,” she gasps, the word barely leaving her lips, her body still wracked with aftershocks.

but i’m not done.

i grip her thighs, pushing them up, pressing them against her chest, folding her into a mating press, my body caging hers in.

her breath catches.

her eyes go wide.

she’s already sensitive, already on the edge of breaking all over again.

“one more, baby,” i rasp, grinding into her, rolling my hips slow, deep, making sure she feels every thick inch of me pressing into her, filling her to the brim.

she whimpers, fingers clawing at my forearms like she’s holding on for dear life.

“can ya do that for me?” i murmur, kissing her lips, her cheek, her throat. “one more, love. i know ya can.”

she nods frantically, lost in it, lost in me, in the stretch, the heat, the overwhelming pressure of it all.

“words, sweetheart,” i remind her, pushing in deeper, making her sob.

“y-yes,” she cries, voice shaking, already on the brink. “i can—i can—”

her body locks up, every muscle tightening as she clenches down around me, hard, her whole frame trembling, her moans dissolving into desperate, breathless cries as she cums again—one last time.

and when i feel her tip over the edge, when i feel her walls tighten around me like she’s trying to take every last drop—

i don’t hold back.

“shit—” i groan, my hips snapping forward, burying myself to the hilt, grinding deep as i spill inside her, filling her up just like i promised.

hot, thick ropes of my release coat her walls, my cock pulsing with every shuddering breath, every sharp inhale, my body trembling from the sheer force of it.

but i don’t move right away.

i let her feel it. feel me.

feel the way i stretch her full, how i keep her stuffed, plugged up, making sure not a single drop escapes—like her body was made to take me, to keep me.

she’s still trembling, still pulsing around me, her breath coming in soft, uneven pants as the aftershocks ripple through her. i stay inside, refusing to pull away, letting her feel every inch of me even as her body melts into the mattress, boneless, ruined, perfect.

i press lazy kisses to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth—soft, slow, reverent.

“mine,” i murmur, voice thick with possession, my fingers threading through her damp hair, smoothing it back. i stroke gentle patterns into her skin, grounding her, anchoring her to me as she drifts, her lashes fluttering, lips parted, body completely spent.

“always,” i whisper, sealing my promise with one last kiss.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ i think this helped me get me outta my lil writing slump :') hope u guys like it n got pregnant from it!!! i know i sure as hell did!! ​but also???? writing in his pov was soooo much fun omg!!!! made me wish i had a dick omg i’d b unstoppable 😭 as always, lmk what u think hehe 💗💖💗💞🩷💝💘💝💗

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 . 

[meinii]

“heartache”

summary: Zayne is at work and you miss him, so you go visit him ‧₊˚♡

content: fluff

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

the moment you stepped into the pristine hospital, the scent of antiseptic and faint traces of Zayne’s cologne filled your senses. your heart pounded—not from sickness, but from anticipation. you had rehearsed this scenario in your head countless times, trying to come up with a believable excuse to see him without seeming desperate. but now, as you sat in the waiting area, your fingers twisted the hem of your sweater, nerves threatening to betray you.

Zayne had always been busy, always running from one patient to the next, his time a luxury you rarely got to steal. the only moments you had with him were fleeting— hushed conversations over the phone, rare dinners cut short by emergency calls. you missed him more than you could admit. and so, you found yourself here, faking an illness just to have a few minutes with him.

“miss?” the receptionist called, snapping you out of your thoughts “Dr. Zayne will see you now”

a rush of excitement and guilt filled you as you stood up, adjusting your expression to appear convincingly unwell. you rubbed your forehead for good measure, as if you had a headache, and walked into his office.

Zayne looked up from his desk, his eyes immediately softening when they landed on you. he was dressed in his usual white coat, his sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the strong forearms covered in scars you had admired more times than you’d admit. his gaze scanned you with the practiced concern of a doctor, but there was something else in his expression—an amused glint, perhaps?

“hey,” he greeted, standing up “didn’t expect to see you here. what’s wrong?”

you swallowed, reminding yourself to act the part. “I—I think my heart’s been acting weird lately,” you said, hoping the irony wasn’t too obvious.

his lips twitched, as if suppressing a smile “weird how?”

you hesitated, then placed a hand over your chest

“it races a lot. and sometimes it feels… off”

he nodded, his professional demeanor never slipping, though there was undeniable warmth in his eyes “let’s check it out”

he gestured for you to sit on the examination table, and you complied, trying not to overthink the way his fingers brushed against your wrist as he took your pulse. his touch was gentle, yet it sent a shiver down your spine

“your heart rate is a little fast,” he murmured, tilting his head “are you nervous?”

you forced out a weak laugh “I mean, I am in a doctor’s office.”

he hummed as he listened to your heartbeat through his stethoscope, his face unreadable. when he pulled away, his gaze locked onto yours

“you’re not sick,” he stated simply

your breath caught “what?”

his lips curved slightly “your heart’s racing, but not because of any medical condition. you’re perfectly fine” he leaned back against the desk, folding his arms “you came here to see me, didn’t you?”

your cheeks burned, the weight of your own foolishness pressing down on you. “I just… I miss you, Zayne. you’re always busy, and I know your work is important, but I—”

before you could finish, he let out a soft chuckle and reached for your hand. his thumb brushed over your knuckles, a reassuring touch.

“you could’ve just said that,” he murmured “you don’t have to pretend to be sick for my attention”

you lowered your gaze, embarrassment curling in your stomach “I didn’t want to bother you”

Zayne sighed, tilting your chin up so you’d meet his eyes again. “you’re never a bother to me. I should’ve realized sooner how much you needed me” his voice softened “I’ll take some time off”

your eyes widened “Zayne, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” He squeezed your hand gently “I’ve been too caught up in work. but nothing is more important than you”

relief and joy washed over you, your heart racing for all the right reasons now.

[mr-hopkins]

You write so well,I'd love to read some of your works regarding jay.

Again,you write incredible ☹️❤️

Thank you so much 💕

Here's something for you :)

Hope everyone enjoys reading!

Cooking Up Trouble 🎀

! Jay Imagine !

Synopsis : Jay is the best cook in enhypen, everyone knows that. As you convince him to cook for you, he plans ways to get back at you for the favour. Be it in the kitchen or in the room at night.

You were curled up on the couch, hugging a pillow like it was your last line of defense against the cruel world. Period cramps were hitting hard, and you were craving something warm, comforting, and made with love.

And by love, you meant Jay’s cooking.

Jay, the culinary genius of your life (and, well, also of Enhypen), was lying on the other end of the couch, looking exhausted from dance practice. His head was tilted back, eyes closed, arms lazily draped over his torso. He looked like he was about to pass out.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

You slowly sat up and poked his thigh. “Jaaay~” you whined.

He cracked one eye open. “No.”

You gasped dramatically. “I didn’t even say anything yet!”

“You don’t have to,” he groaned. “I can hear the ‘Jay, please cook for me’ in your voice from a mile away.”

You pouted, resting your head against his shoulder. “But I’m dying.”

“You’re literally not.”

“My uterus is waging war against me.”

“I sympathize, but…” He gestured vaguely at himself. “I think my whole body is waging war against me after today’s practice.”

You sighed, looking up at him with your best puppy eyes. “Jay… I need your food. Only you can save me.”

He rolled his eyes but let out a defeated chuckle. “You’re really using the period card on me, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

With an exaggerated groan, he pushed himself up. “Fine. What do you want?”

You grinned triumphantly. “Something warm and delicious. And made with lots of love.”

“Ugh,” he grumbled, but the corners of his lips twitched up in amusement.

You followed him into the kitchen like an excited puppy, watching as he expertly started chopping vegetables. His movements were smooth and precise, like he could do this in his sleep. You leaned against the counter, admiring his back.

“God, you’re so hot when you cook,” you blurted.

Jay paused mid-chop and turned his head to give you a smirk. “Are you flirting with me while I’m handling a knife?”

You shrugged. “What can I say? Dangerous men are attractive.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

You grinned and moved closer, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, resting your cheek against his back. He stiffened for a second before relaxing into your touch.

“This is bribery,” he murmured.

“I prefer the term ‘appreciation,’” you said, swaying side to side slightly, making him move with you.

He let out a soft chuckle, setting the knife down before turning around in your embrace. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him. “You’re lucky I adore you,” he said, voice low and teasing.

You looked up at him through your lashes. “Oh? And how lucky am I?”

His fingers traced small circles on your waist. “Lucky enough that I’m cooking for you despite being exhausted.”

“Mmm, that’s true,” you hummed, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. “I’ll have to repay you somehow.”

Jay’s smirk deepened. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m keeping track of my favors.”

Your breath hitched slightly at the mischievous glint in his eyes. “And what exactly do you plan to do with this favor?”

He leaned down, lips brushing against your ear. “Oh, I have a few ideas.”

You swallowed. “Do they involve food?”

He pulled back, grinning. “Nope.”

Your face heated. “Jay!”

He laughed, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before turning back to the stove. “Now go sit down before you distract me and I burn your ‘warm and delicious’ meal that I am cooking with love.”

You pouted but did as he said, watching him with a goofy smile as he cooked. Maybe cramps weren’t that bad if they got you moments like this with Jay. As the room gets filled with the aroma of delicious food, you cannot stop imagining about how Jay intends to make you pay back for the favour. No matter what it would be you would be pleased to surrender to him.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Please suggest what else I can write about 🌷

[vulcanvampyr]

'the newsreader' season 3 and bpd rep

note: major spoilers ahead. trigger warning for mentions of self-harm, suicide, and substance abuse.

you don't see a lot of fictional characters with canonical bpd diagnoses in media. the illness is usually ascribed to one-off villains in crime dramas, or in the case of movies like girl, interrupted (1999), largely romanticized. a recent exception was rebecca bunch from the tv series crazy ex-girlfriend (2015-2019), who embarks on a profound journey from diagnosis through treatment and healing amidst the show's musical backdrop.

when i started watching the newsreader last year, i picked up on a lot of borderline traits in helen norville. i related to her mood swings, her protective measures to prevent abandonment, and her difficulty identifying, describing, or regulating her feelings. from there i sort of decided in my head that she had bpd, without the canon confirmation. this is nothing new for me--as someone with the disorder, i'm always quick to catch these traits and run with them, since i rarely see canonical representation of the illness. over the years, i've "headcanoned" fictional characters like david rose, ed teach, and bojack horseman with bpd, among others.

-

when helen starts seeing a therapist in the first half of the newsreader's final season, the therapist, marcia, recommends that helen take in her surroundings and employ breath work during times of stress. i clocked this right away as a mindfulness DBT (dialectical behavioral therapy) skill, but figured given the show's 1989 setting, they probably wouldn't "go there."

but sure enough, i watched helen go to the library, look up her therapist's treatment methods. i saw her burst into marcia's office talking about how the disease is incurable: "it's for manipulative, vindictive, narcissistic, promiscuous, hysterical people. and apparently there's no fսcking treatment for it" (3x03). but DBT is an experimental new treatment, marcia says, and it's been met with much success thus far. finally, she says aloud what i'd been thinking: helen meets the criteria for bpd.

helen storms out of the room, tries to escape her reality with alcohol and valium. she's sent out of the newsroom and isolates herself at home. i watched all this unfold onscreen in disbelief, an uneasy lump settling somewhere deep in my stomach because as surprised as i was to see the words--borderline personality disorder--utttered onscreen, i understood, painfully, what helen was going through.

i was diagnosed with borderline in 2018. by that time, i had been exhibiting self-harm behaviors on-and-off since about 2014. i went through periods of extreme, bone-crushing sadness followed by numbness. i oscillated between flippant communications and desperate pleas for validation with those close to me. several textbook characteristics for borderline.

my therapist told me, "don't look it up online," but of course i did, ducking into the office restroom after our session for an immediate google search. i was inundated with exactly the material helen must've seen, if in a different format: bpd is the hardest mental health disorder to treat; many therapists won't even treat folks with bpd; people with bpd are statistically more likely to attempt suicide. there were online listings for a book frustratingly, reductively called i hate you, don't leave me, the only major popularized work on the illness.

these are all things i read on a first-page search many years after the setting of the newsreader. fortunately, a quick search in 2025 looks different, featuring many landing pages on psychiatry websites focused on debunking myths about the illness.

but in 2018, at the age of twenty-five, i thought: this is it for me. it's all fallen into place. i'm broken, i'm broken, i can't be fixed.

-

when helen's former-lover-always-best-friend dale jennings comes to check on helen later on in the episode, what plays out is one of the most beautiful, raw, and validating scenes for someone with the illness to witness.

we watch helen go through the intense back-and-forth of processing her feelings in real time:

i've been seeing this woman, this, um, this therapist, dale, and she's been really good. she's been really good. she's given me, like, all of these kind of, um, ways to...to handle, um, stuff. and then today she said, um, that i... that... that i just am fսckеd. [...] and it's not like, um...like a, um...it's not like i'm sick. it's just my personality. [sobs]

... blaming dale ...

she said it's a personality disorder, and it's...and it's true, you know? it's just true. and...and, i mean, you must have seen it. [...] why wouldn't you say? you're the only person who's ever told me the truth, why wouldn't you tell me? why wouldn't you tell me?

... and then blaming herself.

i could have done something about it. i could have fixed it. i could have done something about it. and now there's no one! [...] i even fucked up with you, my fucking family, and now my fucking job.

i can't overstate the sheer vulnerability displayed by anna torv in this scene. it's a highly realistic portrayal of an initial reaction to getting this diagnosis. there's the instinct to prescribe yourself with inherent wrongness, to cast a cloud of villainy over your whole life to this point.

it's dale's response that seals the deal for me in terms of marking this an effective, empathetic portrayal of bpd onscreen.

"it's called borderline personality disorder, apparently," helen says, "did you see that?" in other words: did you see that in me? and if so, why are you still here?

dale just looks at her and says, "all i see is you."

to hear a character say that to a person with a confirmed bpd diagnosis is frankly revolutionary for television, even in media's generally progressive view of mental illness today. dale sees helen for all she is and still loves her. with the stigma that still exists around bpd, i don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that many folks with bpd would give anything to hear those words.

"all i see is you," dale says, "and i don't think it makes a difference. do you feel different?"

and what a question. this brings things into perspective for helen, and perhaps even for the viewer. this diagnosis doesn't change anything about what came before, or who helen is as a person--namely an inspiring, hardworking journalist and a loyal partner and friend. now she just has a name for the strong emotions that color her world. and with that name comes the power to learn, to grasp, to move forward and heal.

in the months following my diagnosis, as i started working on DBT individually and in a group setting, i slowly began to accept this part of myself. i called it by name, and i told it to the world. it reframes a lot of my behavior, past and present. it's helped me put terms to my emotions and how to handle them. and yet it's not all of me.

so, after the diagnosis, do you feel different? helen's answer is mine, too:

"no," she replies after a bout of surprised laughter, "i fucking don't."

-

after her diagnosis, it's clear helen doesn't take to therapy or DBT right away. she's suspicious, stubborn, and in denial about her path forward.

in 3x04, helen challenges marcia in any way she can, saying her fast-paced career doesn't allow for skill work, and summing up the study of DBT skills as "infantile checklists." marcia stands her professional ground, though: "if there were a pill that treated borderline, you would have it, but there isn't. this therapy requires your full engagement. you know what the alternative is." by the end of the scene, helen reluctantly begins trying again to work with her therapist, ranking different DBT skills and their effectiveness in her day to day.

again, i'm struck by the realism in this portrayal. the show references actual DBT skills with care and detail, despite the newness of the method in 1989. there are four major modules--mindfulness, emotion regulation, distress tolerance, and interpersonal effectiveness--and within them myriad terms and exercises pioneered by psychologist marsha m. linehan. several are referenced throughout the season.

helen's resistance is palpable--DBT makes up a whole book, and i can't say i was thrilled embarking on the journey myself. at first, a lot of it did seem trite--splashing my face with cold water, or practicing box breathing in a room full of people.

but what i had to realize for myself--and what helen does, too--is that these skills are an ongoing practice.

later in the episode, helen calls her therapist in distress after an encounter that brings her face-to-face with the uncomfortable reality of racism in australia and her innate privilege. "this therapy is not about denying your feelings," marcia reminds her, "it's about bringing you to a frame of mind where you can better navigate the situation. and right now, you need a distress tolerance skill, so pick one."

sure enough, we see helen doing laps up and down the stairs--employing the TIPP skill to bring her back to baseline. this is one of the many things i love about the newsreader's handling of bpd: it shows the borderline character doing the work. you don't "graduate" from DBT. i've gone through two group rounds myself, and have worked since my diagnosis with various therapists on individual practice. and still, over 6 years later, oftentimes the skills i need the most aren't readily at hand in high-stress moments. i'll never be done doing this, and that's kind of the point.

-

helen's story arc comes to a head in 3x05, when the press reveals details of her stay at a mental institution as a young woman. helen not-normal, the headline says. helen spirals--this could be the end of her career. she panics, begging for it to be retracted. this loops back to the denial of her condition, her emotions, her very self that plagued her for two seasons (and presumably far before). but this time, her therapy work grounds her:

marcia: helen, what can you control? what can you always control? helen: my reactions. marcia: you control what you do next. and what you do next tells everyone who you are.

so helen uses her journalistic platform to talk about mental health. she goes live on her show public eye with a social worker and former psychiatric nurse, who was institutionalized herself and thus became passionate about revamping the mental health industry: "if community were more accepting of people with mental illness, that would make the biggest difference." facing the camera, helen responds:

having experienced anxiety and depression myself, i do believe that...that it is the shame and the isolation that makes it so unbearable. and perhaps if we could change the way that we view and discuss mental health issues, it might seem less impossible to overcome.

this is just the start of helen's self-acceptance journey--and audiences receive it overwhelmingly positively. public eye is inundated with calls after the show. helen even reconciles with her sister, after years of little contact.

helen's choice to be authentically herself, live on air--marrying her public persona with the very real person behind it--is so important for folks with bpd to see onscreen.

-

the sixth episode and series finale, "the fall," positions helen further getting a handle on emotion regulation. in an explosive confrontation between her and her co-executive producer, bill, helen takes a deep breath in response to his slew of insults. she responds to him calmly, setting a boundary:

i don't want to do this with you anymore. i really tried to protect your feelings. i mean, i blamed myself. i blamed your marriage. i blamed our working relationship. but i'm not going to be punished because I didn't want to fսck you.

later, in front of a group of largely male network executives, she sets her terms for the show going forward, delivering an ultimatum. the network pushes back on her terms, saying, "you do not get to control this." but, oh, she does. in establishing understanding and control of her emotions and her reactions, helen is able to fully harness her power as the queen of australian news.

in the end, helen ends up running public eye alongside her trusted co-producer, noelene, with dale serving as the show's international reporter. she's become herself, owned herself and her illness, and is still a wildly successful newsreader and journalist--not despite her bpd and the work she's doing to manage it, but partly because of all that too. because she knows herself, and unabashedly, she lets the world know this part of her, too--if not in name, then in her continuing to move forward with the candor around her experience with depression and anxiety.

i chatted with my therapist about helen's season 3 storyline. i'm still processing what i watched, and i wanted to reflect aloud about why that was. i had a really visceral reaction to helen's story that i'm still moving through, and one i wasn't expecting. and i think it's because this sensitive, realistic, honest portrayal of bpd and treatment and recovery resonated with my journey. seven years out from my diagnosis, sometimes the behaviors and cries for help i exhibited in my early to mid-twenties feel far away. is that really the "person" i was? was the diagnosis accurate? i realized it had to have been, for this season to have pulled at me so strongly.

and i remembered this is just one facet of who i am, and i've worked hard to learn how to manage it. my symptoms may look different now, less severe--but it doesn't change what happened to me, what i've been through, what i did at my borderline "height"--and the work i've done and continue to do. there's no "cure"--but there is recovery (not linear--no healing ever is). it's so clear in the show's final moments that helen is on her way there, too.

having the opportunity to see what i've experienced mirrored back at me through a beloved fictional character, as well as to reflect on how far i've come, is something i've not really experienced until now. i'm impressed with how the writers handled this aspect of the season, and i want to continue moving through how it resonated for me, and i'm sure for so many others.

helen, thank you.

i am so proud of you. (and i'm proud of me too.)

[authenticallyaudrey]

Like any sane individual, I am in full support of this movement. However, we need a hell of a lot more than just one day of mass protests. Disrupt traffic, disrupt regular tv broadcasting! Desperate times call for desperate measures. We need MILLIONS of people out protesting. The more the better. Our voices and our demands WILL be heard!!!

If you live in the US and are feeling beat down by everything that's been happening lately, especially these past two weeks (yes, it's only been two weeks), and you are wanting to stand up and fight for all of our rights, there is a country-wide protest that is planned for this Wednesday, Feb. 5 at each state's capitol building (times appear to vary from state-to-state but largely seem to start around 11 am or noon).

Here is the movement's Bluesky, where you should be able to find the flyer for your state with more info about your specific protest:

Even if you don't think you'll be able to go and protest (it is short notice and scheduled for a weekday), think about boosting this information as much as you can, that way word can get to as many people as possible and more people can show up in person.

If you do plan on attending your state's protest, especially if you live in a red state, be safe, take as many precautions as you need to, be aware of your rights, prepare for resistance (just in case), and remain as peaceful and nonviolent as possible.

This is just the beginning 💙💙💙

[bonebrokebuddy]

“You’re posing as a gay man but there’s no lover beside you.”

- normal things you say to your twin when you wake her up from dead sleep so you can use her as a art reference when she blearily asks why the fuck you woke her.

@stealingyourbones im so sorry bro I just couldn’t a ref image at the right angle, u can go back to sleep now.

[flickeringquip]

Convince the Fighter abstinence is bad for his health. There may be consequences(?) <<

hello my well-laid snuggle plans were temporarily waylaid because of Blythe & this post by @thedolmainblog

aster's stamina was not prepared.

[ma-du]

I guess I'll have to take desperate measures then *opens tab to ff.net*

[wikitpowers]

everybody shut up i have something to say

everyday it’s them who are on my mind

art: @cassandrajean

[ilyamatic]

Hello my name is Abby

and ya girl needs help

As we all know, times are tough. Times have been tough round these parts specifically because I am now disabled. Last year I got diagnosed with Primary Progressive MS and have a lot of mobility issues. I am lucky enough to work from home (and am able to work at all) but all the changing expenses with my condition have added up. So much so, I owe $1200 to my community in back fees. Nor am I able to move like I wanted to a more accessible apartment.

And listen, I am not asking for y'all to break y'all's backs for a stranger on the Internet. But if you got a couple of bucks you could throw a Black queer disabled woman, it would mean the world to me.

And if not for me, do it for the cats:

They are just little babies and deserve to stay in a nice warm home.

Cash App: $AbbyJ92

Venmo: @Abigaille-Bernard

PayPal: jasna2018@gmail.com

[thesecretvampireblog]

I don't usually get political on this account but GODDAMN he did all that???

He's removed trans people from legal existence, renamed it to the Gulf of America, REMOVED BIRTHRIGHT CITIZENSHIP, pulled out of the Paris agreement which is a huge climate thing, and furthered the ways the death penalty can be used??? Why would ANYONE ever think this is a good thing??? I'm lowk scared gang

[skyhawkstragedy]

I feel like if Meme campaigned to Cameron it would stroke his ego so much he would consider taking her off the block

[whorenerdking]

if anyone wants to send me some money for food I’d appreciate it

[maryshelleysgrave]

Over caffeinated and willing to die for a cigarette