#once again not a writer my brain is just full of thoughts

[pecchbear]

before odysseus left for troy, the man was scarcely seen without his infant son in his arms. telemachus fit perfectly against his chest, nestled close to the king's heart. the gleam in odysseus' eyes couldn't be mistaken for anything but pure adoration, and he wore his love for all the world to see.

twenty years later, when the king finally returns to his island, his son is no longer an infant. the suitor's blood smears every surface of their home, and pallas athena's presence lurks just beyond, but the world fades away entirely as they take each other in.

one thing is clear as day: the prince is too big for odysseus' arms to hold comfortably– too tall to rest neatly against him.

when telemachus' knees give out from beneath him, strength leaving with a strangled cry, odysseus stumbles forward and tucks him into his chest anyway.

the prince rests his cheek near his father's heart in a gesture impossible for the boy to remember but one the king recalls with perfect clarity. many nights, he lost himself to tears, pressing his hands to the same place. twenty years of pain, of longing to feel the warmth of his only child.

odysseus threads his fingers into his son's curls, strands as soft as a bird's downy feathers. "my boy," he whispers reverently. "my dearest telemachus."

the sob his son chokes out sends a wave of agony through him, more painful than any wound. every shake of the boy's shoulders stabs directly into his heart and every stifled wail twists the knife. the king can only hold him tighter as they cry, twenty years of grief falling through their bodies and shattering all at once.

[joons-cinnamon-bun]

Perfect plan -1-

Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: friends to lovers, friends with benefits? (But the benefit is a baby); crack, a smidge of angst, smut, fluff, happy ending. Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact. Warnings:  mentions of cheating and ‘being the other woman’ (past relationship), reader works at a hospital, Namjoon is just an absolute sweetheart in this, cursing, multiple sex scenes, dirty talking, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, just a smidge of size kink, unprotected sex, creampie, intensive orgasms, Namjoon tells you to “Relax, woman” before eating you out, lovemaking, and a quick scene of pregananat sex. Word count: somewhere around 15k. Author's note: You know there is this idea travelling around that writers write what they need to hear? Apparently, I need Namjoon to tell me it’s okay if I don’t have it all figured out. Thank you @callmenoona25 for all your help once again. You’re the sweetest! ✨ ps. English not first language. Brain dumb sometimes. If you’re still reading this, leave a comment, drop a like, they’re literally the joy of my existence. part 2: here

Confetti was not just decoration; it was a phenomenon. It had a very special way of never truly being vacuumed up. No matter how many times you tried, the colorful bits- pink, blue and gold- always seem to wiggle away and hide comfortably into the far corners of the room as if they had a mind of their own. They would stay there, nestled in the shadows, only to flutter up again whenever you tried to sweep them away.

After the third failed attempt, you let out a frustrated sigh and abandoned the vacuum cleaner. You’d leave that task for the sober version of you tomorrow.

Instead, you started gathering the scattered napkins from the dining table, folding them mindlessly. Your gaze wandered to the half-burned candles that still sat on the table, the melted wax serving as a quiet witness to your little gathering.

29.

“Happy Birthday!” – those words never felt heavier, laden with unfulfilled dreams and the weight of another year gone by without much to show for it. Even the celebration, once full of light and laugher, had left behind just another mess to clean up. The year was over and you were left with the quiet aftermath.

You had always imagined this age differently, or at least, that’s what you told yourself every year. By now, you thought you’d have things figured out. You thought there’d be someone by your side, someone to share the joy of the life you had built.

Little baby prints all over the house. Raising a child, teaching them how to blow out birthday candles and clean up the mess afterwards.

You had always imagined being a mother by now. Maybe that’s what hurt the most- how the years seemed to slip by without any sign of the family you’ve dreamed of. The house full of laughter, a partner to help you navigate the messes and milestones.

But instead, you found yourself alone. Alone in a big beautiful house, holding a top position as an administrator at a private hospital. But alone.

You threw away the last of the napkins and pushed your way through the clutter on the dining table, your mind still heavy with the weight of the thought that had followed your around since the last of the guests had left. The candles sat atop the garbage pile when you walked towards the kitchen.

The house felt quieter now, almost too quiet, as if it was holding its breath since the celebration had ended.

When you entered the kitchen, the hum of the dishwasher broke the silence. You hadn’t expected to find anyone still here, but here he was- Namjoon, your friend, still loading dishes with the same quiet focus he’d had all evening.

You two met back in your last year at college, when you were both striving to become more than just another student. You butted heads a few times, competing for the opening position of Teacher Assistant, only for the teacher to completely compromise the project by offering the job to his very own son.

Either way, you walked away with a new friend. (The enemy of my enemy?)  You were drawn to his passion, his drive, and his unwavering belief in himself. Turned out the two of you also made a hell of a team when it came to it, because you managed to get the job done, despite the professor’s questionable decisions. You’d stayed late countless nights in the library, hashing out ideas, studying together, even venting your frustration in between textbooks. Namjoon had the uncanny ability to make even the most tedious projects feel worthwhile, and you couldn’t help but admire the way he could turn anything into an opportunity for growth. It was contagious, his unwavering belief that everything- every setback, every challenge, was just another chance to prove yourself.

You’d both laughed about it afterwards, the way the professor’s son had been handed the job without so much as a second though, while you and Namjoon had essentially worked the entire course in the shadows. But it didn’t matter in the end. What you had created, together, was far more valuable than the title ever could’ve given you.

The sound of glassware clinking together was oddly soothing, and for a moment you just watched him.

He was dressed in a casual cream turtleneck that beautifully highlighted his broad chest, paired with olive-green slacks. The golden framed glasses perched on his nose adding a little touch of elegance, perfectly tying the outfit together. He seemed relaxed, at large within the confines of your apartment.

“Still here?”

Namjoon glanced over his shoulder, flashing you a tired but warm smile, “You thought I’d leave you to clean all this on your own?”

You lean slightly against the counter, suddenly feeling restricted by the tight dress you wore, watching him work. It was such a kind gesture, but something about it made you feel even more isolated.

“I could’ve handled it,”

“I know you could,” he said, turning back to the sink, “But I wanted to help.”

There was something about him that made you feel seen, even in moments like these, when you didn’t want to be. Almost like he wasn’t just cleaning up your party mess; he was cleaning your life in some way too. The laughter had faded hours ago, and now it was just the two of you- no more distractions, no more Taehyung and Jungkook cracking jokes, no more celebrating. Just the quiet hum of the dishwasher and the soft clink of plates.  Just still life.

You sigh and pull out a chair to sit down at the small breakfast nook “I just feel like… I’m stuck, you know?”

The sparkling champagne made you tongue loose. Feeling vulnerable and raw, you quietly searched his eyes. “Like, I thought by now I’d have it all figured out- where I’m supposed to be, what I’m supposed to be doing. I just thought I’d have more… more something.”

Namjoon set the plate down with a soft clink and turned towards you, his gaze steady but gentle. He wiped his hands on a dish towel, and for the first time that evening, he let the silence hang between you, as if giving you space to let the words settle before responding.

“You know,” he began, his voice low, “I think everyone feels that way sometimes. That sense of… not being where you thought you’d be. But I also think you’re more than what you’re giving yourself credit for.” He paused, then leaned against the counter, meeting your eyes in that way he always did- like he was truly seeing you, not just the person in front of him, but the one beneath the surface.

You shrugged, a half-smile pulling at the corners of your lips, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “I just-” You sighed. “I need to stop drinking.”

Namjoon studied you for a moment, his eyes softening as if weighing your words. He didn’t rush to fill the silence with advice or reassurances. Instead, he simply watched, letting the moment hang in the air, even as it thickened with unspoken words.

Finally, after a small eternity, he spoke.

“It’s okay not to have it all figured out.” He paused for a moment “Life isn’t a straight line. I know you like to plan every little detail of it, but sometimes, it’s just not how it works out. You can’t just arrive somewhere and expect it to be perfect.”

You wanted to laugh, to dismiss his words as is you didn’t know already. But something in the way he said it made it feel real. Like he wasn’t just offering empty comfort, but speaking form a place of understanding.

“And maybe you’re not where you thought you’d be. But that doesn’t mean you’re lost.” Namjoon set the tea towel down with quiet precision, then met your gaze once more, his smile faint but steady. “I think... maybe we’re all just figuring it out as we go. Some of us more than others.”

 You wanted to say something, wanted to argue, but the weight of his words settled over you, a gentle blanket you didn’t know you needed.

“C’mon, you’re tired. Let’s get you to bed.” The softness of his tone caught you off guard, tugging at something inside of you. His words didn’t come with expectations, didn’t demand anything from you.

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Instead, you simply nodded, feeling a heaviness settle over you that was both familiar and strange. You stood up slowly, legs still a little unsteady from the alcohol, and made your way to the bedroom, Namjoon following quietly behind you.

You didn’t speak as you reached the doorway. There was nothing to say, not really. So instead, you turned around and wrapped yourself around his body, pulling him in a tight hug.

“Thank you Joonie.”

Namjoon chuckled, squeezing you tightly before whispering “Anytime love.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The fluorescent lights of the 7/11 hummed overhead, as you stood in the middle of an aisle, heart melting into a puddle as you cooed over a chubby-cheeked baby sprawled across a shopping card. All bundled up in a puppy themed onesie, the little one giggled as he reached for a colorful toy, and you couldn’t help but mimic his joyous sounds.

You watched with admiration as the mother, a confident woman in yoga pants (and a vomit-stained shirt), gently tickled the baby’s round face, eliciting a fit of giggles.

Namjoon, as usual, was talking as he dropped something into your shopping cart, not that you were paying him any attention. Not when the baby’s eyes caught your gaze, his smile widening as he cooed at you.

“God Joon, I want one too.”

Namjoon, ever the pragmatist, didn’t miss a beat. “Well, I can get you one, they’re on sale.”

His voice was light, casual, the way he spoke when he didn’t take your thoughts too seriously. You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation.

“What are you talking about?”

“The crackers?” he said, glancing at you, his brow furrowed in confusion as he held a box of crackers in his hand, examining the label as though the fine print held some secret to the universe. “What are you talking about?”

You stared at him for a second, still caught up in the midst of your daydream, before laughing softly.

“The baby, Namjoon.”

“Ah-” he paused, looking back at the baby boy. “I don’t think they sell those here,” he chuckled, throwing a sly glance your way. “But if you want, I can distract the mother, and you make a run for the exit with the baby.”

You laughed at the absurdity of it, shooting him a playful glare, knowing where his teasing would lead.

“Don’t say that! You’ll get us kicked out." You scold with a playful grin.

Namjoon just shrugged, as if the thought didn’t bother him, the teasing glint in his eyes only making you smile wider. You pushed your cart towards the checkout line, the weight of it heavier now.

It’s been a few weeks since you had that moment of weakness, but the ache still lingered, quietly tucked away in the mundane day-to-day distractions. You’d buried the feelings under careful planning, an extra dose of work, and fleeting nights out with friends. But the longing never quite went away.

Instead, it had grown far beyond a mere ‘baby fever’. It was a full-blown malady by now.

Namjoon, however, was a constant, a comforting presence amidst the chaos of your thoughts. And tonight, it was no different, even in the middle of a basic errand run to 7/11. He was there, filling the space with his usual teasing and lighthearted energy, offering a sense of normalcy you didn’t even realize you missed.

“But seriously, I think you’d make a wonderful mother.” Behind you, Namjoon continued to toss items into the cart- bags of chips, cans of soda, candy bars- anything within his reach as he dropped one of the biggest compliments you’ve gotten in the past few years.

It hit you like a soft wave, unexpected, yet somehow exactly what you needed to hear. You paused, a bag of cereal halfway to your cart, processing his words. The motions of the store continued around you- people chatting, the hum of a checkout line in the distance, the baby’s giggles- but for a minute, they all slowed, and it was just the two of you in that fluorescent-lit aisle.

You turn slightly, trying to keep the heat from rising to your cheeks “You think so?”

Namjoon, oblivious to the shift in your mood, continued picking through the shelves, tossing things in your cart with an almost absentminded rhythm “I do.” He said, his voice easy and sincere as it always was with you

“You’re nurturing, you know? And patient. You make people feel safe, like they can just… be themselves around you.” He smiled “And you’re the mother of the friend group.”

He was focused on a big bottle of orange juice when he tacked on “You’d be amazing at it.”

The way he spoke made it sound so simple. But to you, it felt anything but simple. A rush of conflict swirled in your mind.

“Too bad my dating life is so stale,” you grumble, snapping him out of his obsession.

Your past experiences hadn’t been exactly pleasant. From really weird alpha-sigma-dudes trying to convince you that your worth as a woman has declined since you passed the age of 25, to insecure men that felt intimidated by your position in the working field, to just bad timing in general- it was all just… complicated.

The cherry on top was your last relationship. You felt the bitterness creep back into your chest as you thought about him- the doctor. The one who had lied to you for over two years. Even now, the memories felt like a stab straight to your ribs. Like a snake squeezing your heart into nothingness. You gave him everything, trusted him with your heart, only to have it shattered in the cruelest way. You could still remember the disbelief in your voice when you had to confront him.

“God, how did I miss that?” You murmured underneath your breath, your grip tightening around the cart handle.

Namjoon, who had been rifling through the cart, didn’t seem to notice the dark cloud that settled over you.

“Stale? Nah, you’re daring life’s just on pause.” He said, completely unaware of how much his words stung.

“The only man I wanted to start a family with turned out to be married!” You snap. The words slipped out before you could stop them, sharp and bitter. You could feel the heat rise to your chest as the frustration spilled over, the old wound reopening with an ache. Namjoon froze mid-motion, his hand still hovering over a bag of something. The silence that followed was heavy, and you immediately regretted it.

But Namjoon, ever the perceptive one, quickly managed to draw you back in.

“That dick?” he huffed “Its better you found out early on. I can’t bear the idea of you having asshole-babies.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Namjoon’s lighthearted response, despite the lasting burn. The absurdity of ‘asshole-babies’, paired with the sincerity of his tone, almost made the bitterness dissolve. The tension in your chest shifting slightly.

He dropped the bag back into your cart and met your eyes. “You deserve someone who treats you right, who sees all the amazing things you are. You don’t need to settle for anything less.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. It was comforting to hear him speak like that, as if he believed in you more than you sometimes believed in yourself.

“Thank you love,” you said softly, your smile genuine but still fragile.

He flashed a grin, nudging you with his elbow as he walked along you towards the checkout.

“Now, what the fuck did you buy? Why are there three bottles of ketchup here?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay! I have decided.” You announce suddenly, drawing the attention of everyone at the small table to you. The murmur of laughter and clicking of glasses fades into the background, and a bubble of anticipation surrounds your little booth.

The bar is buzzing with life; particularly crowded for a Thursday evening, yet, even among the crowded mess, Jungkook still somehow managed to secure a secluded little nook for your rag-tag group of four.

You glanced around the dimly lit room, where the flickering neon lights casted playful shadows along the walls- a slight twinge of courage envelops you as the warmth of the alcohol teases your senses, coloring your cheeks bright red.

Namjoon’s brow rises, and he takes a contemplative sip from his tall glass of beer, a thoughtful expression dancing across his face. In front of you, Jungkook and Aera are deep into their third glass, laughing at some inside joke only cringey couples would make, oblivious to the rising tension radiating from your suddenly bold proclamation.

“Decided?” Namjoon echoed, setting his glass down, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips as he watches you.

Aera and Jungkook both turn their attention to you as well. Jungkook leaned back in his seat, a mischievous glint in his eyes, while Aera wiped her lips with the back of her hand, ready for whatever random revelation you were about to drop.

“I’m going to have a baby by myself!”       

The words hung in the air for a long moment, as though the entire bar had suddenly gone still. Your proclamation floating quietly through the air before crashing and tumbling on the small table between you.

Namjoon blinked, his beer halfway to his mouth, while Aera and Jungkook both froze mid-laugh, their faces a reflection of disbelief and curiosity.

“What?” Jungkook was the first to speak, his voice completely drowning in confusion.

“I already set up a college saving’s account, and I got a head start on the nursery.” You reached for a napkin, just so your fingers have something to do. “The contractor is coming over this weekend to look at the room.” You looked up to gauge their reaction, but when no one spoke, you continued “I mean, I don’t even use the at-home office. It’s perfect.”

Leaning back into the seat, you plant your elbows on the table, the rough surface grounding you as the weight of your declaration settles heavy in the air.

“Wait, wait,” Aera says after regaining her composure, her eyes slightly narrowing with skepticism. “You’re seriously saying you want to become a single parent? Just like that?”

“She’s serious.” Namjoon cuts in, setting his now-empty beer glass down on the table.

He nursed that drink for the past hours only to finish it with one long sip?

 “Trust me, this isn’t a rushed decision. She’s been toying with the idea for months.” He mumbled, leaning back into the booth.

“Yeah,” you nod confidently “The kindergarten right down the block from me has an afternoon group. So, after the baby turns three, I can start working again. And until then I should live comfortably with my savings.”

“Noona you can’t!” Jungkook looks terrorized by the thought, the alcohol just as evident on his face as it was on yours. “So what? You’ll just start fucking every Dick, Harry and Joe in town until you get knocked up?”

Under normal circumstances, the youngling would be much more careful with his words around you, but now, with the buzz going on in his head, his desperation seemed to have taken over. His eyes quickly shifting from you to his Hyung, as if pleading Namjoon to back him up.

 The atmosphere shifts as Jungkook's words slice through your carefully crafted confidence. Laughter begins to bubble back to life around you, but your own heart has started to race, confusion and boldness swirling together like a cocktail in your stomach. You stare at Jungkook.

“You know that’s not how it works.” You reply, your tone steadier than you feel. An involuntary smile creeps back onto your lips. “It’s not that simple, and I’m not looking for casual hookups. God only knows what messed up genetics those dudes have. And I run a risk of an STD.” You shake your head. “No Kookie, I have a plan.”

You take a deep breath, allowing the faint buzz of the bar to seep into your consciousness again, grounding you while your amusement at Jungkook’s pure shock begins to surface again.

“Besides, the plan isn’t just a plan; it’s a well-thought-out strategy.” You try to encourage him, but he just blinks up at you like a hurt little puppy. “I scheduled an appointment at a fertility clinic.”

“And if the plan fails? What if you’re not ready for the challenges of parenting? It’s not just about the nursery or the savings. Have you thought about the reality of it?”

Deep down, you know that Aera just wants to help, however, her questions rub you slightly the wrong way.

“Of course I have!” You assert, a tad defensively but with sincerity woven into your voice. “I’ve done my research, Aera. What it takes. What I need. There are all sorts of resources out there for single parents. It’s not like I’ll be doing this entirely alone. I have you guys, and I know I can reach out to others too if it gets too tough.”

Jungkook ran an exasperated hand down his face, grasping at straws as he mumbled, “What about your love life? This is such a huge commitment, and you’re just going to push that aside for... A child?”

You appreciate the concern, but something in you quakes at the thought of your future being dictated solely by the prospect of a romantic relationship.

“My love life is already complicated. I don’t want to put my dreams on hold for a partner that might not even come.”

“Namjoon! Say something!” Jungkook pleaded, but the gentle giant just kept on silently studying you.

“Congratulations.” Was the only thing that left his lips after a long moment, making you beam up at him as if you’d just received a gold start on a test.

“See?” you said, your smile widening as you glanced back and forth between them. “Namjoon gets it! Life’s too short to wait around for the perfect moment!”

Aera finally shook her head, a soft smile gracing her lips despite the concern in her eyes. “It’s just, we can’t help but worry for you. What if it’s harder than you think? What if you regret this choice down the line?”

You reach for her hand, squeezing it gently. “That’s the thing Aera. I’m not doing this on a whim. I’ve mapped it out. I’m prepared. I believe I can give my child the love and support they need.” You smile, glancing between Jungkook and Namjoon.

“Fine.” Jungkook relented, leaning back in his seat with a resigned sigh, his hands raised in mock surrender. “I guess if you’re really set on this… just promise you won’t forget about me when you become Super Mom or something.”

Aera rolled her eyes playfully, yet her smile remained as she leaned against his chest “As if you’d let her forget. You’d probably be the most dramatic babysitter ever.”

A ripple of laughter echoed among the three of you, the tension momentarily lifting, only Namjoon just kept on staring at the bottom of his empty beer glass.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook took no mercy on Namjoon as they walked down the street. After making sure you and Aera safely got an uber home, the little drunken monster unleashed.

“Hyung! You can’t let her do this!”

Namjoon gave a soft chuckle, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He was still processing everything himself; the weight of the conversation hanging heavily on him. Jungkook, who was practically bouncing on his feet with a mix of frustration and concern, shot him an incredulous look.

“You can’t just sit back and let her make such a huge decision by herself!” Jungkook insisted, his voice rising “She’s literally planning to have a baby alone, Hyung!”

“Kookie, she’s a full-grown woman.” Namjoon began slowly, rubbing a hand over his face “And she’s not doing this impulsively. She’s been thinking about it for months.” He paused, as if weighing his next words carefully “She’s not the kind of person to just… act on a whim. She has a plan. And I think, maybe, that’s what she needs right now.” He exhaled a deep breath, looking up at the street lights overhead, his mind running through the conversations he’d had with you.

Jungkook’s brows furrowed, a look of disbelief plastered on his face.

“And what about you?”

Namjoon stopped walking, his steps halting mid-stride as the question hit him like a stone wall. For a brief moment, there was nothing but the distant hum of a passing car and the quiet rustling of leaved in the evening air. He turned towards Jungkook; his eyes wide with uncertainty.

“What about me?” Namjoon asked, his voice low, the question more to himself that to Jungkook at first.

“Are we really doing this now?” Jungkook groaned “You love her. C’mon, catch up.”

Namjoon stood still, eyebrows meeting his hairline. He had always kept his feelings hidden, buried under layers of friendship and mutual understanding, the steady belief that he was just someone who needed to be there for you- no strings attached.

But now? Jungkook’s question churned him harder than he expected.

Namjoon blinked, unsure whether to laugh it off or tell him off.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kookie.”

Jungkook didn’t let up. “Hyung, I’m serious. I see the way you look at her! The way you act around her! You’re not fooling anyone!”

“Yes, because she’s my friend!” Namjoon tried to protest, but Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“You don’t look at me like that!”

Namjoon’s chest tightened, his throat a little dry as he tried to force some clarity into his emotions.

“Kookie. You’re drunk, you need to sleep it off.”

Jungkook shook his head, as if he were trying to clear out the haze of alcohol clouding his mind. But the intensity of his words didn’t waver. “I’m not drunk enough to miss what’s right in front of me.” His voice softened a little “I’m just saying… maybe it’s time to stop pretending?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Namjoon repeated, but his voice wavered slightly, betraying him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunday movie nights have been a staple in your relationship. Something you both held sacred since the beginning. Only under the most extreme circumstances had either of you ever canceled.  

Lately, though, you seemed to call it off more often than not. Ever since you started your weekly appointments at the clinic, Namjoon noticed he was seeing less and less of you.

But tonight, you were adamant to keep the tradition alive. The opening credits of Deadpool 3 were already up on the screen, waiting for someone to press play, while Namjoon busied himself hauling all the blankets to the couch. A spread of your favorite snacks sat neatly on the coffee table. The only thing missing was... you.

In your bedroom, you sat at in the middle of your bed, the laptop balanced on your lap as you repeatedly refreshed your email inbox.

“You ready?” Namjoon called out from the living room.

“Yeah, just a sec!” You refresh again, your face lighting up when the awaited email appeared.

Namjoon watches your reaction and laughs, “Let me guess. It’s going to be more than a second now?”

“I just got the donor list. Want to help me choose?”

Namjoon’s laughter fades, replaced by a look of concern that make your heart race. He shifts from one foot to the other, trying to gauge your enthusiasm.

“Choose?” he repeats hesitantly, “Like, pick a donor?”

“Yeah,” you respond, excitement bubbling over as you quickly type away on the computer. “You’re my friend. I want your input. It feels right.”

He bites his lip, unsure of how to process this new layer to your already documented decision. “You really want me involved in this?”

“Of course! I trust you. Plus, it’s a big step. I could use a little support.” You give him a little sheepish smile, almost hiding your face behind the screen.

Namjoon nods slowly, the weight of your request settling in. “Okay… I’m here for you.” You beam up at him, quickly patting the space next to you “Just-how do we do this?” Namjoon settled down, his eyes quickly scanning the screen.

“There’s a list of profiles with backgrounds, interests and even photos. We can look through it together.” You pause, letting him read over the page.

“This guy seems interesting.” you say pointing to a profile that catches your eye “He’s into poetry, works as a dentist and seems really kind…” but your voice dies down “Ah, but his hair line is receding.”

Namjoon leans closer. “What about this smiley one?” he asks, highlighting a profile with a striking smile.

“Nah, he has a bit of an overbite.” You move the mouse away, “I want to minimize the chances of the kid needing braces.”

Namjoon chuckles, watching you scroll through the list “Oh look! A Redhead!”

“Can I be honest?” you glance up at him, smiling once you caught his gaze “I’m not really into gingers.” You whisper, earning yourself a lighthearted laugh from him. His dimples deepen, and his eyes nearly disappear with mirth.

“You’re such a stereotype.” He teases.

You finish scrolling through the profiles. Each one eliciting more critiques than compliments.

“Too many tattoos.”

“Too much facial hair.”

A crooked nose, a weird eye color, a weird mole. Too short; too tall. That one yodels for fun. You could go on~

After a few more profiles you reached the end. “Ugh, none of these guys are right. It’s like a never-ending list of disappointments.” You groan, closing the laptop and falling back on the mattress.

Namjoon sighs dramatically, taking the laptop from your grasp and setting it on the bedside table, leaning back on the bed. “Maybe you should add a ‘no weirdo’s filter’.”

“Seriously! What’s wrong with some of these guys?” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

This was already the third trial, and you still hadn’t chosen a single profile. Deep down, you knew the things you got so fixated on were merely superficial flaws, but they felt monumental when it came to deciding your future. Even with your careful planning, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were running an undeniable risk.

That is not even considering the fact that the insemination might not even work in the first place. But that only added more chances and statistics to your plan, making your head spin. So, you consciously avoided that rabbit hole.

Namjoon chuckles softly, rolling on his side to face you. For a moment he said nothing, quietly studying your frustration.

“Listen,” he finally broke the silence, his eyes reflecting a gentle resignation “I know you don’t need it; but you have my full support. Whatever- or whoever- you pick.” His smile was so sincere that it made your heart skip over a beat, and in that moment, a new, bold idea took root in your mind.

You allowed yourself a moment to admire your friend- his perfectly symmetric face, kind eyes and adorable dimples. Your gaze drifted lower, taking in his chiseled jawline, elegant neck and the contours of his collarbones, all perfectly complementing his broad shoulders and newly toned muscles.

Suddenly, that unconventional idea that popped in your mind began to feel more enticing. After all, you knew him- the little quirks, the strengths, the pet peeves. You’d met his parents’ countless times. It could actually work out. And you were confident enough in your relationship to give it a shot.

You let out a soft sigh, your heart racing as you considered the next step in your journey. Turning to face him, you bit your lip as you hesitate before speaking.

“Namjoon… can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He propped himself up on one elbow, concern flickering across his face.

You took a deep breath, gathering your ideas. “I’ve been thinking about this process, and-” You swallowed hard “It’s a big commitment. I want to make sure everything it perfect, you know?”

 He is so understanding, watching you quietly and nodding along to your ramblings.

“So, I was wondering if you’d be willing to get tested.” You rushed the words out, your gaze darting to the ceiling, avoiding his eyes.

Namjoon’s brows furrowed in confusion “Get tested? Like... for what?”

You swallowed again, trying to keep your voice steady. “For compatibility. I’d like to know the donor’s genetics, and it would really help to have your input on it. It you’re comfortable, of course.”

A heavy silence filled the room. You could feel the tension in the air as Namjoon processed your request, your heart racing louder with each passing second of his contemplative silence.

“Wait.” He finally snapped, his voice low and measured “You want me to get tested as a potential donor?”

Your palms felt clammy as you looked back at him, offering him a shy nod “Yes?”

“That’s not what I meant-” He stopped his own idea in its tracks “Won’t it make things weird between us?”

“No! Just think about it! I know you; I know your family history. I like your face. And we don’t have to tell anyone. And you can choose how much you want to be involved in the baby’s life. Like I said, I want to be a single parent.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen as he listened to you ramble on and on about your idea. His brows furrowed deeper, knitting together as he tried to process your words. After a few long moments of constant talking, he held up a hand, stopping your frantic speech.

“Slow down,” he instructed, his voice low and measured, “Let me get this straight- you want me to consider being a sperm donor for your child?”

You nodded eagerly, stomach twisting with emotion and heart picking up in double time. “Yes! I know it’s a lot to ask, but I trust you. We’re best friends, and it would be nice to have a personal connection to the kid’s other parent.”

He turned away from you, deep in thought running a hand through his hair in agitation. “I-I don’t know.” His throat made a weird noise “This is a lot to process.”

Suddenly feeling uncertain, you bit your lip hard. “I know, I know. And it’s totally fine if you say no. We never have to speak of this again.” You shift slightly, feeling heat rise to your neck. “I just though since we’re so close…” You mumble, losing your idea for a moment, before quickly picking it up again "It's not like we'd be raising the kid together! Just, you know...biologically related. As friends."

Namjoon sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Look, I need some time to think about this, okay? It's not a decision I can make lightly."

"Of course," you replied quickly, not wanting to pressure him. "Take all the time you need. I'm sorry for springing this on you out of nowhere."

He offered a small, reassuring smile. “It’s all right. I’m just surprised. That’s all. I’ll let you know once I’ve had a chance to really consider it.’

You nodded, feeling a mix of hope and anxiety swirling in your gut. “Thank you, Joonie. Just for thinking about it.”

He reached out, giving your hand a comforting squeeze “I’ll always be here for you.”

You returned the gesture, heart full of affection for your best friend. “I know, thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Joon 🎍: Just got the tests back. Damn. Don’t even know what half these things are. Busy-bee🐝: If you bring them over, I’ll translate. 😊 Joon 🎍: Yeah. Omw rn. Did you have dinner yet? Busy-bee🐝: Nooo, can we please have Bibimbap? Joon 🎍: Anything you want, love.

Namjoon arrived a short while later, carrying a takeout bag that wafted delicious aromas through the kitchen. He set it down on the table with familiarity, fetching plates and utensils as you carefully looked over the medical results.

“Bibimbap, just as you ordered.” He said, grinning. He looked at you, his expression shifting to one of concern as he noticed the serious look on your face “Is everything okay?”

You glanced up from the papers, forcing a smile “Just trying to wrap my head around all of this.”

He slid into the chair across from you, pulling the take-out container and placing it in front of you. “Take a break from the serious stuff for a moment. Food first. Medicine later.”

You chuckle softly and opened the container, the colorful array of veggies and rice making your stomach growl. “You’re right. Can’t think on an empty stomach.”

As you began to eat, Namjoon began to rifle through the papers. “So, what’s this one?” He picked up a paper, squinting at the dense text. “I swear, some of these graphs look like they belong in a science-fiction novel.”

You giggled, nodding along “I know, right? Let me see… This one is about genetic markers for health risks, and this one,” you pointed to the colorful one “It’s about traits related to personality and intelligence.”

Namjoon let out a long-intrigued sound, “What does it say about me?”

You chuckle, trying to suppress a smile “Well, it’s not like one of those personality tests you find in a girly magazine. But it says our baby might have higher chances of being a visual learner, with higher openness to experiences.” You take a big bite, quietly chewing over the fact that you just called it ‘our baby’ – as in, you and Namjoon. Mashed together.

“Openness to experience? That’s code for ‘adventurous’ right? I think I prefer the term ‘spontaneous’.” Namjoon feigned offence, looking over the papers as if trying to confirm your diagnosis.

 “It’s another way to say you’ll jump at any wild idea.” You tease him, mouth half-full. “But it’s a good quality! You’re creative, fun and adaptable.”

He leaned in closer, curiosity piqued “And what about intelligence? Am I a genius?”

You flipped the paper around, scanning for the relevant section. “Looks like you score high on analytical thinking and problem-solving. So, I guess, in the right context, you could definitely call yourself a genius,”

“Can I add that to my cv?” he joked, before turning serious again “But does any of this affect your choice? Does it change anything for you?”

You took a moment, pondering his question as you quietly chewed your food. “I guess it just adds another layer to think about. I want the baby to have a good mix of traits, you know? If I choose a donor who has strengths like yours, it could make an indent in my favor.”

Namjoon’s expression softened, silently watching you scan the results, before a small smile tugged at his lips. “Whatever you decide, love.”

You smiled, feeling reassured as you grabbed the next paper “Thanks, love. Now, let’s see how your swimmers are doing!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is a thin line between being a genius and an idiot. Namjoon liked using that line as a jumping rope. He had been called both names, sometimes within the same day. One minute he’d be diving deep into philosophical discussions, and the next he was deemed a mumbling fool simply because you fluttered your eyelashes at him.

He knows he is brilliant. His academic achievements and professional life were testament to that. A whole company depending on his decision. Yet here he was, getting grilled for the past hour by Seokjin and Taehyung for being the biggest dumbass that walked this dying earth.

“What do you mean you just agreed to be her sperm donor?” Seokjin blurted; his disbelief palpable as he leaned against Namjoon’s desk.

Namjoon just shrugged, trying to keep his cool. “It’s not as simple as that. We’ve talked about it, and I think it could work out.”

Taehyung leaned in; eyes wide with mock horror “You really jumped into this without thinking it through? Are you insane?”

“I thought about it plenty!” Namjoon retorted, frustration creeping in. “I trust her! We’re best friends. This isn’t some random decision.”

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk “Best friend or not, you’ll be tied to her and that kid for life!  You’d practically be family!”

"Guys, I get it," he said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. "I've thought about this a lot, and I really believe this is the right thing to do."

Taehyung shook his head, a look of disbelief on his face. "You're not thinking straight, Namjoon. This is a huge decision, and you're not even considering the long-term implications."

"I am considering them!" Namjoon insisted. "I know that by agreeing to be her donor, I'm getting myself involved with her and the kid for life. But that's exactly what I want. I want to be there for them and support them in any way I can."

Seokjin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Namjoon, you're a brilliant guy. You've always been one of the smartest people I know. But sometimes, I worry that you're so focused on doing the right thing that you don't stop to consider whether it's the smart thing."

Namjoon opened his mouth to protest, but Taehyung cut him off. "He's right, Namjoon! This isn't just a textbook case. This is real life, and there are real emotions involved. You can't just apply your weird logic to everything and expect it to work out."

Namjoon sighed, feeling a pang of frustration. He knew his friends were just trying to protect him, but he couldn’t help but feel like they were overcomplicating things.

"Maybe you're right," he said after a moment. "Maybe I am an idiot for doing this. But it's a risk I'm willing to take. I trust her, and I want to be there for her. That's all that matters to me."

Seokjin and Taehyung exchanged a look, but eventually, they both nodded.

"Alright," Seokjin said. "We'll support you, no matter what. But you’re still an idiot.”

Namjoon sighed; resignation evident on his features at he turned his attention back to his computer.

“You could’ve asked her on a date and get to the baby making naturally.” Seokjin added.

“She doesn’t want a relationship.”

“Well, you can skip straight to the baby making!” Taehyung exclaimed, but Namjoon just rolled his eyes.

 “It’s not that simple, Tae...”

 Unbeknownst to Namjoon, on the other side of town, you and Sumi, your good friend and co-worker, were engaged in a strikingly similar conversation.

“So, I asked him to donate a sample.” You fidgeted with your fingers under the table, unable to meet her eyes, cheeks burning with embarrassment as you voiced your actions. “Any thoughts?”

Sumi studies you for a long moment, her expression inscrutable. You felt the intensity of her gaze as she tries to gauge your sincerity. Finally, she broke the silence.

“Yes, and prayers,” she said softly “You need them.” She gives you that incredulous look that only the head nurses seem to master.

You blink, stunned by her response. You expected something different, something along the lines of excitement or curiosity, instead, her reaction was surprisingly tame.

“Why didn’t you just bang him?” She asks, her tone casual, no hint of professionalism in her demeanor.

Your eyes widen in shock “Ayy! Don’t say that!”

“I mean, you can cut out the clinical middle man this way,” she continued “And god knows you need to get laid.”

Your face grew hot. “That’s not the point...” you mumble.

Sumi raised an eyebrow. “Then what is the point, exactly?” She leaned back in her chair, bubble tea clasped in her hands and a smirk playing on her lips. “The baby gets made either way. This is just more fun.” She giggled “You know, Jimin told me that Namjoon used to have quite a reputation with women back in his day.”

You shift in your seat, avoiding Sumi’s probing gaze as you gathered your thoughts. The conversation has taken a turn you hadn’t anticipated, and you were struggling to find the right words.

“The point is, I want to do this the right way.” you say, aimlessly spinning the straw in your drink. “I want to give this child the best possible start in life, and that means doing things properly.”

Sumi considers your words for a moment, before nodding in understanding “I get that,” she says. “But you don’t have to be so serious all the time. You can still have fun and enjoy the process.”

You can’t help but snicker as she emphasizes the words “You sound just like Jimin,” you say, referencing her boyfriend. “He’s always telling me to lighten up and enjoy myself.”

“Well, he’s not wrong.” Sumi says with a grin. “And just so we’re clear, sex is the ‘proper way’ that normal humans use to make babies.”

You roll your eyes, “I know that.”

“Good. At least I don’t need to explain how that works.” She smirks “And I’m sure Namjoon would be more than happy to oblige.”

Suddenly, a very vivid image appears in your mind. Namjoon, hovering over you, his breath washing over your face as your hips collide together. You feel a shiver run down your spine, butterflies emerging in your stomach and quickly push the thought away.

“Make the poor guy feel more involved in the process. You’re treating him like milking cow right now.”

“God, don’t say that!” You cry out, shaking your head to clear the image from your mind. Namjoon was a gentleman, and you were grateful for his help. But the thought of asking him to sleep with you too made you uncomfortable. How would that conversation go?

Hey Joonie, since you’re already getting me pregnant, why not just fuck me?

Sumi laughed, "Well, it's an option. And sometimes, the most unconventional methods can lead to the most beautiful outcomes."

You couldn't argue with that. After all, you were about to become a single mother, and that was certainly not the conventional route.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you look across the table at her. She was watching you with a knowing smile, one that suggested she could see right through your nervous façade.

“And just think of it this way, all that money you save from all the clinic appointments can go towards buying cute baby clothes.”

That was the weakest argument yet, but still, you found yourself actually entertaining that idea.

“Do you really think he’ll agree?” as the words leave your mouth a pang of guilt strikes you. Namjoon has been nothing but kind and generous so far, and here you were, letting your horny thoughts take over. You respect and value your friendship more than the need to ‘make things fun’. You can’t do anything to jeopardize that.

“Trust me babe,” Sumi sounds so casual in her conviction. She’s right thought- sometimes, the unconventional ways do lead to the most favorable outcomes. And you can’t deny the spark that ignites in your chest whenever you think about Namjoon.

And this way, you can have more control over the situation. The amount, the frequency. The position….

After all, all the pregnancy and fertility books you’d read recommended that a deep connection is important when it comes to getting pregnant.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, fidgeting with your fingers again. “I mean, it’s not like I can just ask him to sleep with me.”

Sumi chuckles and takes a sip of her bubble tea. "Why not? You're two consenting adults, and you both want the same thing. It's not like you're asking him to marry you or anything."

You can't help but roll your eyes at her flippant attitude. "Yeah, I know, but it's not that simple. Namjoon is a good friend, and I don't want to ruin that. Plus, I don't know if I'm ready for something so...intimate with him."

Sumi raises an eyebrow. "Intimate? Girl, you're already asking him to donate his sperm. How much more intimate can you get?"

You take a deep shaky breath, trying to lower your blood pressure as you absorbed her words. She has a point- you hate it, but she has a point.

“Okay, I’ll think about it.” you finally say, meeting her gaze. Sumi just smirks at you, clearly pleased with that response.

“That’s all I can ask for.” She says, taking another sip from her bubble tea. “And remember, there’s no rush. Take your time and do whatever feels right.”

You nodded, feeling the heaviness in your chest swirl. You knew this was a big decision, and you don’t want to take any part of it lightly. But you also can’t ignore the possibilities that lay ahead.

As the conversation turns to other topics, your thoughts wandered back to Namjoon. You imagined his kind smile, his gentle nature, and his unwavering support. And you can help but let your mind fantasize.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Busy-bee🐝: Need to ask you smth. Joon 🎍: If it’s about the sample, I’m omw to drop it off at the clinic now. Busy-bee🐝: NoooOooOoo Busy-bee🐝: Stop! Busy-bee🐝: Pls don’t. Joon 🎍: Did you change your mind? Busy-bee🐝: No. Not quite. Joon 🎍: Quite? What happened? What do I do now? Busy-bee🐝: Can you just come over? Joon 🎍: Sure? But just so you know. I have a jar of sperm with me. Busy-bee🐝: Yyuckkk Joon 🎍: Don’t worry. It’s sealed. Busy-bee🐝: Still gross, lol. Just hurry. Need to talk.

While you waited for him to arrive, your heart pounded in your chest. You paced around your apartment in your pajamas, desperately searching for something- anything to clean or organize. The conversation with Sumi replayed in your mind, her words echoing as you contemplated your options thoroughly.  

You couldn’t possibly complicate things with Namjoon, could you?

A soft knock on the door breaks you out of your reverie. And with a deep breath, you open it to find Namjoon standing there, casual and charming, in a green hoodie and ripped jeans, the familiar warm smile lighting up his face.

“Hey,” he says, stepping inside “What’s up? You sounded urgent.”

“Um, yeah…” you close the door behind him and gestured for him to sit on the couch. “I wanted to talk about the… um, sample?”

He raises an eyebrow “Didn’t you just say not to take it to the clinic?”

You wince sightly, still grappling with how to express what you really wanted to say. “Well, I was thinking…maybe we can talk about the process?”

Namjoon settles down, giving you his full attention, confusion clearly evident on his face “What’s on your mind?”

“Sumi mentioned that-” You stop, allowing yourself a second to gather your fraying thoughts, “Well, since we’re both consenting adults…I thought it would be more medically apt to try this with a more ‘hand-on’ approach.”

He nodded, listening closely as he rubbed his chin. A cliché lightbulb suddenly going off in his mind and Namjoon’s eyes widened as he took you in.

“Are you suggesting you what I think you’re suggesting? Because if you’re not my mind went to a very inappropriate place.” He asks, his tone light but serious.

You stammer, nodding slowly as heat flooded your face and neck. “I mean, it’s just an idea. We’re both single…” you trail off, staring at a painting on the wall, “I know it’s unconventional, but I just want to make sure everything’s… right.”

He leans back, quietly considering your words, “It’s definitely a bigger step. Are you sure you’re comfortable with that?”

As he leaned back on the couch, he spread his legs wider, getting comfortable and invertedly drawing your attention to his well-toned thighs, making your mouth go dry.

“Honestly,” you force yourself to look him in the eye. “I don’t know. But I like the idea of us being more connected during the- that. It feels… outlined better?” you sighed exasperated with your own brain for not cooperating.  “But I don’t want it to ruin our friendship. You mean a lot more to me.”

“You mean a lot to me too, and don’t worry,” he says, “I promise the friendship will remain intact.” He paused for a moment, “And I also agreed once, so yeah, I’m here for you whatever you decide.”

A quiet moment passes as you let his words sink in. His expression was earnest, and the sincerity in his voice offered a reassuring warmth. It was comforting to know that, no matter what weird direction you decide to go in, Namjoon would still treat you like a priority. You let out a long breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Really? You’d be okay with that?”

“Of course,” Namjoon replied, “If your plan needs me here five times a week, then I’ll be here.”

A deep red blush creeps up your neck to settle on your cheeks, as your mind quietly conjures up the scenario where five nights in a row, Namjoon comes over and bends you over every surface in your apartment.

You smiled, a wave of excitement washing over you, but beneath that smile, your mind raced and your heart fluttered. This was a significant decision, and you needed to approach it strategically!

“The plan requires we lay down some ground rules first,” you say, shifting your tone to a more analytical one, “We need to define what this would look like for both of us. Like boundaries, approach and what we’re comfortable with.”

As you sit down next to him, your heart still pounds in your chest. “Okay, so, here’s what I was thinking,” you begin after a drawn-out breath, “We should approach this like a partnership, with communication and mutual respect. We’ll need to set some rules and make sure we’re both comfortable.”

“That makes sense. I want you to feel safe throughout this process. What kind of boundaries did you have in mind?”

 “Well, for starters, we should only do this when we’re sober and well-rested. And we should check in with each other beforehand to make sure we’re on the same page.” You scratch at the back of your neck, looking away for a second.

“That’s a good start.”

“And it’s about the baby making.” You add.

“We already established that.” Namjoon nods, a serious look on his face.

“Are you comfortable with a more casual approach or do you think we should be more clinical about it?”

“Casual. Definitely.” Namjoon shakes his head at the idea of doing it in a sterile white room, a shiver running down his spine. But he quickly composes himself and in turn asks you, “What about after? Do we tell people about this, or keep it to ourselves?”

You took a moment to chew on your bottom lip, considering the implications, even though you’ve thought about this before.

“We should keep it to ourselves for the moment being. Even if almost everyone knows you donated, they don’t need to know…” you trail off again, the blush deepening “How.”

Namjoon nods in understanding, “I can respect that. I don’t want any unnecessary drama.” He gave you a reassuring smile.

You take another deep breath, and allow the sense of relief that comes with his smile wash away any lingering discomfort.

“Thank you. I really appreciate everything you’re doing.

Namjoon reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm here for you, no matter what. And I want you to know that I'm not doing this out of a sense of obligation. I genuinely care about you and want to help you achieve your dream of becoming a mother."

Your heart swells with emotion at his words. "Thank you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "That means more to me than you could ever know."

You sit there for a moment, hands intertwined in silence. The weight of your decision quietly sinking in around you.

“I think the next thing we need to set is a schedule,” you say, ruining the moment. “It’s important we’re consistent about this, for the best possible outcome.”

“How often do you think we should try?”

“The research suggests that every other day is a good-enough frequency. But we can see how it works out and adjust afterwards.”

“Every other day. Got it.” He confirms, then asks the only important question of the night:

“When do we start?”

Your heart stops right in its tracks, even as you distract yourself by suddenly reaching to grab your phone, “Let me look at my cycle.” You mumble, opening the fertility tracking app you’d been using.

As you scroll through the app, you felt Namjoon’s presence loom closer, curiosity evident of his face. “How does that work exactly?”

“Do you need me to explain a period to you?” You tease, small smile breaking you from your serious poise.

“No. I just-” Namjoon took a deep breath, nervousness lingering on the edge of his voice as he ran a hand through his hair, “I’m just thinking out loud here, but why wait?”

An audible gasp leaves you lips when you look up at him.

The air between you crackles with electricity, and you suddenly realize just how close you were. In that moment you could almost feel the weight of your actions begin to unravel.

You lock eyes, the tension thickening as you ponder his suggestion. Taking a shaky breath, your heart thunders, and you struggle to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

"Are you sure?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "I mean-"

Namjoon nods, leaning closer to you, his voice steady "I'm sure."

You bite your bottom lip, your mind racing as you try to decide whether or not to take the leap. You've always been a planner, someone who likes to have everything mapped out in advance, but for once in your life, you find yourself wanting to throw caution out the window.

It couldn’t possibly hurt; in fact, it might prove to be beneficial. You’d get the awkward stage over with quickly, instead of letting it simmer while waiting for your fertile window.

Why let nervousness and anticipation settle in when he’s right here, sitting on your couch looking absolutely delectable?

You quickly go over your mental check-list, feeling grateful that you showered and shaved just before he arrived. Your Pj’s are cute, and while your underwear isn’t the sexiest, it’s decent- either way, this isn’t about passion; it’s practical.

You were almost done chewing your lip off when you feel his thumb gently touch your chin, stopping you.

“Only if you want.”

“I can’t remember if I made my bed this morning.” You whisper sheepishly, pulling him out of his serious demeanor. His heartfelt laughter weaving through the tension that hung between you.

“That’s what you’re thinking about?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m here,” You giggle, shaking your head and throwing your phone somewhere on the couch. “Let’s do this.”

Namjoon’s smile broadens as he stands up, extending his hand to you. You almost hesitate for just a moment before placing your hand in his, letting him  pull you up from the couch and in his arms. Heat radiates off his body as he leans in, his hand gently brushing your hair away from your face.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whisper, closing your eyes as his breath lingers just above your lips.

Then, he kisses you.

At first, it’s gentle, his lips barely brushing over yours, a subtle invitation for you to take the lead. His lips taste faintly like mint from Chapstick, soft and warm, and soon the kiss deepens with a surge of passion. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer, feeling the heat between you build. Namjoon’s hands glide to your back, exploring you with a leisurely touch that sends waves of excitement through you.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down to your neck, and you tilt your head back, moaning softly when he gently nibbles on your ear.

“You’re adorable.” He whispers, his hands moving to the front of your shirt to cup your breasts. You gasp as he teases your nipples through your shirt, and with a flicker of courage, your hands slip under his hoodie, feeling the hard lines of his abs under your fingertips.

Namjoon smirks at you as you tug his hoodie upward, but he helps you pull it off, revealing his bare chest and you run your fingers over his toned muscles, feeling his heartbeat beneath your touch.

“Joonie, you’re so jacked.” You say with an airy laugh, feeling a surge of confidence pulse through you. “God, I need you.��� Taking his hands in yours, you guide him towards the bedroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

Walking ahead, you can feel a wave of self-consciousness wash over you, even as you remind yourself that this is just Namjoon—the man who always chooses his words carefully and who’s always there for you. But any hesitation melts away when you reach the bedroom. You push the door open, and with renewed vigor, you quickly shed your shirt and bra, moving on to your pants.

Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of you standing there in just your underwear. Though he fights to remain respectful, the hunger in his gaze is unmistakable when you bend down to throw your clothes in the corner of the room.

When you face him again, his lips capture yours, silencing whatever you were about to say. His tongue delves into your mouth, teasing and exploring, and you respond eagerly, his touch sending a thrill of excitement through you.

“You’re so pretty, baby.” He murmurs, his mouth leaving a trail of fire down your neck and shoulders. You arch into his touch, your eagerness growing with every lingering touch.

When his mouth finally finds your breasts, he captures one in his mouth and starts teasing it with the lightest graze of his teeth. A sharp gasp escapes you, a rush of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

Your hands fumble with the button of his jeans, desperate to feel him against you. But struggling to push his jeans down, Namjoon steps back just enough to help you, letting you slide them off with ease.

Taking a moment, you stop to gawk at his arousal straining against his boxers. Damn, you had a feeling he was equipped. He just carried that air about him.   But nothing could have prepared you for how massive he actually was. The sight of him, hard and ready for you, sends a new wave of heat through your body, and you find yourself biting your lip in eager anticipation.

You can’t help but stare, taking in his impressive size. He truly is a giant, with broad shoulders, a muscular chest, and an impressive cock. You can’t wait to feel him against you, inside of you, filling you up all the way.

But Namjoon has other ideas. He kneels in front of you, his hands moving to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before pulling you closer. He plants a series of soft kisses along your stomach and thighs, each one sending waves of electricity coursing through you.

“Can I take these off?” he asks against your thigh, playfully snapping the elastic of your panties. And unable to speak, you nod.

With a quick tug, Namjoon hooks his fingers around the elastic and pulls, leaving you completely bare before him. You gasp as the cold air brushes against your skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he looks up at you, his gaze intense and full of determination.

You take a moment to savor the image before you: Namjoon kneeling, his eyes dark with desire, radiating an intensity that makes it seem like he could devour you whole. You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, and without hesitation, he places one of your legs over his shoulder, kissing your inner thigh while his fingers move to your folds. A jolt of pleasure shoots down your spine as he finds your clit, rubbing tight, deliberate circles against it.

“So wet.” He breaths against you, sending shivers through your body. He glances up at you one last time, seeking your permission with his gaze.

“Namjoon, wait,” you say, gently pushing him away. “This isn’t how we make a baby.”

God, the hold he had over you was intoxicating, making it nearly impossible to refocus and regain your composure.

He chuckles, the hunger in his eyes still smoldering. “No, but this is going to make you feel really, really good.” He replied, his voice a low rumble, hands still holding you steady by the hips.

“I know. But this isn’t about feeling good.” You insist, your hand dropping from his hair and your leg from his shoulder.

Namjoon almost looks disappointed as you step away from him, but then he nods, understanding the importance of your goal.

“Right, I got carried away.”

“Here, just sit on the bed,” you instruct, offering a hand to help him up. Namjoon obeys, perching himself on the edge of the bed, his gaze locked onto you, tracking your every step as you approach. 

Removing his boxers, you’re awestruck once again by the sight of his pretty cock—big, veiny and heavy with a flushed pink tip, leaking precum. Namjoon reclines slightly, his hands resting behind his head, watching you straddle him. You spit into your hand, wrapping it around his hardness to pump him a few times before positioning him at your entrance, slowly sinking down on him.

You both let out a sigh of pleasure as he fills you completely. A soft whimper escapes you as you bottom out, and you bury your face in his shoulder as his hands move to your hips, his thumbs tracing gentle circles in a soothing rhythm.

“Are you okay?” he whispers in your hair.

“Yeah, give me a second,” you reply, taking a deep breath as you adjust to the stretch, his warmth filling you completely. After a moment, you straighten up, meeting his eyes with a soft smile. “It’s been a while.”

Namjoon nods, his gaze soft as he steadies you, guiding you into a rhythm. Rising and sinking back down, you gasp at the sensation of being this stuffed, bracing your hands on his chest for balance as you start to rock your hips, grinding against him.

At first, you move slowly, savoring the feeling, but soon your pace quickens, spurred by the intensity building in your lower stomach.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” Namjoon encourages, squeezing your hips to help you maintain your rhythm. Your quiet moans blending beautifully with the sound of skin meeting skin, filling the room with your shared pleasure.

Before long, your thighs start to burn, but the growing tension inside you keeps you bouncing on his cock. You were almost there; Namjoon could sense it too in the way your walls flutter around him. One of his hands slips between your bodies, fingers deftly finding your clit and stroking it with perfect precision.

And once he feels you getting too tired to continue, Namjoon takes over, trusting up into you with powerful, steady strokes that meet your faltering movements. The intensity of his pace, mixed with his fingers that never slowed, push you right over the edge, sending you spiraling into bliss.

You cry out as waves of pleasure ripple through you, your orgasm shaking you to your core. Namjoon groans, feeling you clench around him as your body crashes against his chest. His hands grip your ass tightly, and his thrusts grow erratic as he chases his own release, his breathing ragged and soft whimpers escaping his lips. Each sound spurs another clench from you, drawing him even closer to the edge.

“Come on, baby,” you whisper in his ear, fingers gently massaging his scalp as you let him use your spent body however he pleases. “Just let go.”

With a loud, drawn-out moan, Namjoon buries himself deep inside you, and you feel his hot, sticky cum filling you completely. A cry escaped you, muffled against his shoulder as you sink your teeth into his soft skin, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

Your body slowly relaxes, breaths still coming out in quick, shallow gasps.

Namjoon looks over at you, a satisfied smile softening his expression, and a deep, unexpected sense of connection settles over you, an intimacy unlike anything you’ve felt before. Leaning in, you kiss him slowly, silently thanking him for the experience

As you pull away, you roll to lie beside to him, your legs still intertwined. Staring up at the ceiling, a warm contentment fills you, grounding you in the quiet rhythm of his steady breathing.

“Thank you,”

 “Anything for you, love.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

6:30 AM- Your alarm rings.

You bolt upright, momentarily forgetting you were meant to wake up, letting out a little groan as you flop back onto the pillow.

“Why do you wake up so fucking early?”

The voice behind you startles you, and you remember with a rush that Namjoon ended up spending the night. His deep, early morning voice sends a flutter of butterflies through your stomach, memories of last night’s activities rushing back to you.

“Usually I do my yoga,” you mumble back, “and after that I shower and get ready for work.” You yawn, stretching all your limbs, before settling right back in his arms, snuggling closer.

“Why?”

“Because we can’t all afford to sleep till noon.” You tease.

Namjoon chuckles softly, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “Fair point. But I could get used to sleeping in with you.”

You smile, your heart picking up at the thought. “Maybe I’ll let you join my morning routine someday.” You stay nestled in his arms for a few more moments, enjoying the comfort of his warmth. But soon, the call of nature interrupts your peaceful morning.

With a reluctant sigh, you wiggle out of his embrace. “I’ll be right back.” You say, glancing over your shoulder at him.

Namjoon nods, sleepy smile on his face as he watches your naked body, before he snaps himself out of it.

“Are you going to take a pregnancy test?”

You chuckle as you swing your legs off the bed and pad softly towards the bathroom. “It’s too early. That would be a waste of a test.”

The cold floor contrasts with the warmth you just left behind, and as you close the door, you can’t help but grin, thinking about how nice it is to have him there with you. 

You quickly go about your business, splashing some water on your face to wake yourself up. After a moment you finish up and head back to the bedroom. Namjoon is still lounging against the pillows, his eyes slightly glazed but filled with warmth.

“Back already?” he asks, sleepy smile spreading across his face.

“Yeah,” you walk over to your closet, rifling through your clothes as you decide what to wear. The soft morning light filtering through the windows, casing a warm glow over the room. Once you’re all done you walk over to him, leaning down to plant a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“I’m heading out. I’ll leave the spare key in the kitchen for you.” You say, feeling a mix of excitement and reluctance to leave.

He smiles, his dimples showing up on his cheeks, “Thanks, I’ll take good care of it…”

You laugh lightly, leaning in again, this time kissing him.

“God, if anything, I hope out baby gets your dimples.” You confess, your heart swelling at the thought.

His expression softens, a hint of surprise lighting up his eyes. “That would be adorable.” He says, a smile spreading across his face, and this time he leans in to kiss you. So soft and sweet, almost convincing you to join him back in bed. You need to place a hand on his chest to pull away, a deep red blush spreading across your face.

“I’ll text you later.”

“It’s a plan.” He smiles, watching you walk away, taking the warmth in the room with you. When the bedroom clicks shut, he finally feels like he can breathe again.

He was a walking disaster. Books will be written about his sheer foolishness, how he willingly tosses aside logic and reason in your presence.

Yet, deep down, he recognized that beneath his eager exterior lay a selfish yearning- a desire for you, wholly and completely, all to himself.

But for as long as you would have him, even like this, with weirdly restricted intimacy, he would give you everything you ask for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the following months, you two manage to establish a working system. The spare key was Namjoon’s now, and he had a dedicated drawer in your closet for his things.

His toothbrush quietly chilling next to yours in the master bathroom.

Along the way, you uncovered a surprising list of things you never imagined you’d learn about your best friend;

Like the fact that he is a talker, loving the way you’d clench around him when he spills pure filth in your ear. He talks you through your climaxes, encouraging you to lose yourself, and cheering you on as if you were competing in a marathon each time.

He also had a habit of giving you all kinds of pet-names, sweet endearments that easily fell from his lips. “Sweetheart”, “Baby”, “Honey”, “Lovely”. However, your favorite was probably the time he accidentally called you a ‘busy bee’ in the middle of one of his ecstatic hazes. The unexpected nickname bringing a smile to your face, even as you surrendered to the waves of pleasure he unleashed within you.

He also had a thing for hickeys. Your breasts now fully decorated with blooming red love-marks, after you scolded him for leaving one right under your collar bone for the whole world to see.

For two weeks, you only wore turtlenecks because of him.

But what stood out the most was his seemingly endless stamina. If it wasn’t for your insistence to take it easy, he would very willingly fuck you until the early morning light.

Much like he was doing right now…

But it was Saturday. You decide you could afford to sleep in.

You could feel him right in your stomach, a ring of cum forming at the base of his cock as he kept on pounding into your abused pussy.

One of your legs over his shoulder, and the other one around his hip, pulling him closer as he kept on trusting into you. You tried your best to move with him, meeting his rapid movements, but you got lost in the pleasure when his finger flicked your clit. You almost scream reaching your climax for the nth time, your body shaking with the force of the release. Namjoon didn’t slow down though, instead picking up the pace as he chased his own orgasm.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he growled “Not gonna stop til’ I fill you up with my cum. That’s what you want, right angel? Want to be stuffed full? Have it dripping out of you when I’m done?” he rendered you a completely useless, weakly moaning back at his filth.

“God, if you’re not pregnant after this.” He groans in your neck, making you shiver again.

The moon was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the room. Engulfing him completely in a silvery haze, and you couldn’t help but admire the beautiful man on top on you. His closed eyes, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead, his lips parted in pure ecstasy. You almost couldn’t believe this was your best friend, the person who knew you better than anyone else in the world.

Namjoon reaches his own climax, and you clenched around him, milking every last drop eagerly.

 He collapses on top of you, your bodies slick with sweat, yet you just lay there, wrapped in his arms as the night quietly carried on.

This was the new normal, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

After a little while, Namjoon pulls out, quickly grabbing a napkin from the nightstand to wipe away any excess cum before it stains your sheets. You winced at the touch, feeling sore in the best of ways.

“I’m sorry baby. I went a little hard.” He says after discarding the napkin, pulling you closer to him.

You lay there, spent and satisfied in his arms, a little chuckle escaping you at the absurdity of ‘little’ being the past four hours. “Rough day at work?” you ask, looking up, your fingers gently pushing the hair away from his forehead.

“You have no idea,” he huffs, glancing away “With the business trip coming up I can’t seem to catch a break.”

“You’re leaving on a trip?” you stand up straight, looking down at him, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice.

“Yeah baby, I told you I’m leaving on the 5th.” He replies, his voice twinged with exhaustion.

“That is this month?” You fumble out of the bed to grab your calendar from the desk, turning all the lights on and flipping through it.

Has it been two months already? How come you’re not pregnant already?

You quietly look over the pages, calculating exactly what day you should be getting your period on. And your heart raced when you realized;

Last week. This might be it. You might be pregnant already.

“Oh my god, Namjoon!” you giggle like a little girl, jumping and spinning around the room. “This might be it! I’m one week late!”

Namjoon’s eyes widened in surprise, and he grabs your arm, pulling you back on the bed. The calendar flying away somewhere as he places his hand on your still-flat belly.

“Really?”

You nodded, a big smile completely taking over your face

“Yeah really.” You giggle “I mean, can’t know for sure, but I’m one week late.” You insist, almost kicking your legs with excitement.

No way you were going back to sleep after this. Instead, you jump back up, running around the room like a little tornado, gabbing your clothes and rushing to the bathroom to shower.

You needed to schedule a doctor’s appointment, go buy the last of the supplies, pick a color for the nursery and look up all the forms needed for maternity leave.

Namjoon sat in the silence of your bedroom, listening to the water from the shower run as you chaotically prepare and plan your future. The thought leaves him feeling a little empty, knowing he is not a part of that plan.

He wanted to invite you to join him for the business trip in Singapore, the plane tickets bookmarked and ready to be purchased. Even if he’d be busy working, the thought of having you nearby calmed his nerves about the whole ordeal. But now he hesitated, unsure if it was a good idea. With everything getting more complicated- especially the possible pregnancy- his feelings were tangled between simply wanting to support you and grappling with the deeper emotions he couldn’t ignore.

“Do you think you can handle building a crib?” you ask when you return form the bathroom.

 But only silence greeted you, with no sign of Namjoon left behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life had this way about it. One moment you’re riding high, and the next one you’re struggling to comprehend the fragility of human nature.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, yet it still stings when your plan doesn’t perfectly match reality.

You plan a future with a man, only to be confronted with the painful truth that you’ve been the second woman all along. Shaking you to your core and ruining any future relationships for you along the way.

You take the leap, decide to get pregnant, and for a moment, it feels like everything is finally falling into place. But then that red dark spot appears, shattering all your dreams and hard work.

You didn’t need the pregnancy test anymore- not when your period arrives unexpectedly at the hospital office. Yet, you still find yourself staring at the little stick resting on your desk while Sumi draws a blood sample.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asks, pressing a sterile swab to your arm before continuing. Her voice is gentle, but you can only hear the concern beneath it. You nod, though uncertainty lingers in your mind, and the weight of your reality feels heavier than ever.

You spend the rest of the day meticulously reviewing the hospital’s schedules, throwing yourself in the comforting security that the numbers and graphs provide. You check supplies, organize the timetables, and ensure that no section of the hospital is backed up. Each task grounds you, allowing you to focus on something tangible amid the chaos swirling in your mind. 

At around noon you get the message from the testing facility. Deep down, you already knew the blood work would come back negative, just like the test stick, but it still shattered the last glimmer of hope you had left.

You read the message again, trying to process the words, but they blur together as a wave of disappointment washed over you. The sterile walls of the hospital suddenly feel suffocating, and the rhythm of the bustling environment seems to fade into the background.

You take a deep breath, fighting back tears. Great. Now you were hormonal too.

You force yourself to push through the day, focusing on tasks, but the ache in your chest still lingers.

Joon 🎍: Are we still on for tonight? Baby-momma 🐝: Nah. Got my period. Joon 🎍: Shit. Are you okay? Baby-momma 🐝: Shit pretty much sums it up. Baby-momma 🐝: But I’ll be fine. Joon 🎍: Well, it’s Sunday. We could just watch a movie…. Haven’t done that in a while. Joon 🎍: I’ll even pick up your favorite greasy foods if you agree.

You smile at your phone, feeling the warmth spread through you despite the heaviness of the day. The idea of sharing a cozy movie night with him feels like a welcomed escape. You type back quickly, your heart lifting just a bit.

Baby-momma 🐝: That sounds nice. I could use a distraction✨ Joon 🎍: Great. I’ll be over after work.

 When the working day is finally over, you make your way home, quickly going through the motions. You shower, tidy up a bit, and set up the living room for the movie night, arranging blankets and laying out an array of snacks across the coffee table.

Namjoon said he’s be there by 7, but as the clock ticks closer to 9, you find yourself bored out of your mind. You glance at your phone for any updates, but there’s nothing. You try to distract yourself with a show, but your mind keeps wandering to what could delay him.

Just as you consider sending a text, you hear the key turning in the lock. The door swings open, and Namjoon steps inside, a smile breaking across his face.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Got caught up in a meeting.” He says, holding the bag of junk food.

You feel a rush of relief as he walks in the familiar warmth of his presence instantly lifting your spirits. “You made it just in time.” You say, gesturing to the setup.

He chuckles, placing the bag on the coffee table.  “I got you one of those abominable triple chocolate cakes you like.” He settles in besides you, unpacking the bag and you can’t help but smile up at him.

“God, I love you.” You grin digging in, completely unaware to what effect your words have on him. He pauses for a moment, a hint of surprise flickering across his face, before returning your smile with a warmth that sends your heart racing.

As you both dig into the food, Namjoon seems a bit more pensive than usual, his smile lingering as he watches you blissfully enjoy the cake. You almost moan out loud after the first bite, your face surprisingly similar to the one you have when you reach your climax.

After a moment he clears his throat, looking away as a deep shade of red takes over his ears.

“Hey, I was thinking,” he begins, glancing at you with a hint of hesitation. “You know that I have that business trip coming up.”

“Yeah,” you’re barely paying him any attention.

“I’d really love for you to join me.”

Your head snaps up, surprise lighting up your features. “Wait, really? You want me to come?”

He meets your gaze, his expression earnest. “Yeah, I think it would be great. I’ll be busy with meetings, but we can explore together in the evenings. It’ll be fun.”

You can’t help but smile, feeling a rush of excitement. “If I can get off work, sure. Just tell me when to book my tickets.”

Namjoon’s face lights up with relief and happiness. “Yeah, I’ll send you the details as soon as I can.”

You giggle, already daydreaming about the adventure ahead.

“Next week, no?”

“Yeah.” he replies, taking a big mouthful of his burger. You grin, excited at the thought that by that time you would also be done with your period.

“Ah! There’s a medical conference happening around that time too. It would be so cool if they aligned,” you say your excitement bubbling over.

Namjoon nods, his eyes lighting up. “That would be perfect! You could network while I’m in meetings.”

“Exactly! I’ll look into it!” you say, feeling the anticipation grow. The idea of a trip filled with both work and exploration feels like just the right remedy for your disappointment, reigniting a spark of hope.

The duality of man.

[cvnntagious]

˗ˏˋ pornstar!chris films with someone new ‧₊˚

꒰part two ✩꒱ (coming soon)

creeping into chris' condo as quiet as possible with a wrapped gift in hand, a large smile took up most of your face at the thought of him opening it. though, the more you explored the area, the more discouraged you got before eventually giving up with a loud sigh at the realization that he wasn't home. but then, where was he? he always told you when he was going to be out, but today? he didn't even so much as leave you a text.

if not for chris updating you on his whereabouts becoming routine, you truthfully would've thought nothing of his sudden absence, but with a confused look on your face, you found yourself setting his christmas present on the coffee table in front of you to plop down onto his couch. you slipped your phone out of your back pocket, instantly typing away at it.

it was simple and straight to the point, leaving no room for confusion; you'd never been the type to beat around the bush. you weren't upset, really—more like confused, is all. and you waited. sitting idly on his couch as you waited for that little 'delivered' alert to turn into 'read'.

it didn't.

not for a while, at least. you ended up leaving his house only about half an hour after you sent the message, seeing no reason in just sitting there overthinking it. but you still did. going on about your day, trying to distract yourself from that nagging voice in the back of your brain that whispered 'where's chris at? what's he doing?' and 'you're not special. he got bored of you, silly,' at any moment you weren't occupying your mind with something else.

you knew you were probably overreacting; being dramatic in a way chris wouldn't like if he could hear your thoughts. i mean, it's not even like you'd be that upset if he had gotten tired of you. he was only some good dick and a person to keep you company... every single day for the past month. shit, you needed to know. picking up your phone in a swift motion as you now sat on your own couch, having tried to watch a show as means to keep your mind off chris, you checked your notifications in hopes that you'd missed his text.

but something new caught your eye.

a notification from chris' twitter, far different than anything you'd imagined throughout the day. of course you clicked it, a small breath of relief coming from you as you'd immediately told yourself he must've been busy with his executives. oh, he was busy alright.

your eyebrows raised at the sight before you: a short clip of chris plowing into some blonde with big tits, her moaning and whining in such a forced way. he was grabbing and squeezing at them. i mean, shit, he wasn’t even a boobs guy. it was so unlike him, completely disregarding his original intent for his content—keep it authentic. the caption only contained the hub link, telling his fans to watch the full video there.

dread sounds about right. a look of dread spread across your face, as if you'd just witnessed your worst fear. except it wasn't your worst fear. at least you didn't think it was, until now.

without thinking, you found yourself in chris' messages again, seeing the 'delivered' alert still there like a taunt. it was a slap in the face, really. not even the fact that he'd went and filmed with someone else, but the way he'd so clearly purposely failed to give you any type of warning.

once you'd sent the message, seeing the little text below your blue message change to 'read' instantly, it all suddenly felt pointless — all the worrying throughout the day, the dread you felt when you watched the short clip chris posted, the hurt when you saw he ignored your message, and now, even the message you literally just sent to him.

w/c : 645

a/n : i'm gonna try to bust these out the best i can, but y'all might have to bare w me cs i'm proly the worlds slowest writer... this may overlap with the au calendar as well, so to be clear, this isn't my priority. if i have to postpone parts of this to keep up with the prompts, i will. that being said, hope you guys enjoy my first multi-part tumblr fic <3.

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

[januaryembrs]

Hi!! Could I please order a spicy hot chocolate for Spencer Reid? (Like you know, the ones that people put cayenne pepper in?!)

You’re an incredible writer and human!

BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND | Spencer Reid x Reader

description: your brother brings home his dorky college classmate, Spencer

length: 2.5k

warnings: spicy, SMUT (omg Em attempts smut and even then its pretty tame but why are my hands shaking), minors dni! heed my warnings this is not for you minors!! nipple stuff, mens genitalia mentioned, Spencer and reader get horny for one another oop. I really hope this is okay I've literally written smut once and even then I second guessed myself so much. SEASON ONE GLASSES SPENCE. BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND SPENCE. smut under the cut.

You felt eyes on you without even having to turn where you were stuffing laundry into the washing machine, your face sweaty with the midsummer heat. 

“Jesus Christ, you look like Hot Topic threw up on you,” Your brother’s voice resounded as two sets of footsteps entered the kitchen, and someone cleared their throat where you were bent over, denim shorts riding high up your ass cheeks. 

Flicking a look over your shoulder, you pulled the spoon full of peanut butter out of your mouth, yanking a headphone out of your ear to address him. 

“Don’t shit your pants, dickbrains, it’s all I have until my clothes are clean,” You snapped at Ryan, tongue dancing with the creamy, sweet spread, and your eyes dropped to his left where his best friend fussed over his sweater cuffs, a duffel bag on his back, and your eyes softened as you saw Spencer looking flushed in your kitchen, “Hi, Spence,” 

“Hi,” He peeped shyly, and you smiled widely at the obscenely tall boy who had been to your house a number of times. Ryan had met Spencer on the first day of college, or at least his first day. For Spencer, it had been six years already, his third doctorate well underway, and the two had quickly bonded over something dumb and nerdy you’d never bothered to take note of. You clicked the dials on the machine to a low setting, pouring some detergent into the drum and pressing the ‘Start’ button.

“You guys doing homework?” You asked, fixing where your shirt slouched off the side of your shoulder, exposing your lack of bra and baring your collar bones, and you were quick to catch the way Spencer’s hazel hues fell there with something fleeting and guilty in his expression. 

“We’re not twelve years old calculating how many watermelons Sally and Jess have all together,” Your brother scoffed, screwing his lips in annoyance, just as much as any twenty year old pumped full of hormones and energy drinks. “We’re writing a paper on thermodynamics; Spencer’s staying over tonight,”

Rolling your eyes at his know it all snark, you pulled a face back at him, despite the fact you were one year older. You looked to his left where Spencer stuffed his hands in his pockets, his cheeks pink as he caught himself like a fly in honey in one of your usual arguments. 

“Do you want a drink, Spence?” You offer, ignoring Ryan’s shitty attitude, heading over to the fridge and swinging the door open, your fathers bottles of beer clinking together where they lay flat on the top shelf. 

“Soda would be great, please,” Spencer murmured, trying not to stare as you leaned over, those little, black hot pants skirting up so far his face felt feverish and he forced himself to look at the linoleum tiles in a scrambled attempt to control his thoughts. 

He felt like a kid again, with a stupid little crush on the older girl who batted her lashes and called him Spence and smiled at him like you knew exactly how you made that big brain of his turn to mush when you spoke to him. 

Handing him a Coke, he tried to ignore the way your cold fingers brushed and avoided your gaze at all cost.

“Thankyou,” He said, his voice cracking in the very middle of it in a way that made him feel like a total loser, and he heard you giggle, his neck growing a prickling hot. 

Before you could say much else, his friend grabbed his sleeve, tugging him in the direction of his room where you couldn’t bother them anymore. 

Spencer was thinking about your laugh the entire afternoon, until they gave up writing and turned to watching Star Trek, the evening air quickly turning humid and dark, and he begged the tightness in his boxers to leave him be for even just a second.

Only, he found no such luck, tortured by the thought of you being just a single flight of stairs away from him. 

–

You were doing dishes by the time you heard him again. Assuming it was Ryan, you made no effort to greet him since it usually was only responded with a grunt or cuss anyways. 

Except you could tell by the footsteps that were too careful, the presence that was too soft, even by the way he cleared his throat nervously, that it certainly wasn’t your obnoxious brother who had come into the kitchen for a midnight snack. 

Whirling around at the sound, Spencer stood on the other side of the dining table you'd been sitting at just a few hours ago eating pasta and listening to your mom recounting her stressful day in the office. Thin, framed glasses perched on his nose, ones you’d never seen before, glinting in the light from the oven as he blinked at you behind the lenses. 

“Spence,” You said with a tired smile, eyes dropping to his shirt and plaid trousers, “Cute jammies,” 

He paused for a second, looking down to the grey Doctor Who set, a diagram of the TARDIS splayed across his chest, and he blanked when he tried to figure out if you were kidding or being genuine, “Thank you. You too,”

He didn’t know why he’d said it, maybe because that’s just what you do when someone is being kind, except only then did he look at what you were wearing, and impossibly so it was even more scandalous than what you were wearing earlier. 

A tank top, if he could even call it that with how far it rode up, and a lacy pair of blush underwear, a pretty white bow resting just below your belly button. 

Following his gaze as it devoured your exposed appendage, you grinned at him devilishly, “Sorry, it gets pretty hot in my room at night,” 

“Y-yeah I can imagine you-you’re hot,” He stammered, realising what he said when you raised a brow at him, “B-because you’re a floor up, I mean, and heat rises because hot air has a lower particle density than cool air although some physicians believe-”

“I know what you meant, Spence,” You said with a smirk, moving around the table to stand in front of him, your feet padding softly against the cold floor. Looking up at him with a tilted head, you inspected the frames you realised were a mahogany brown now you were close enough to see them properly, you peered past the lenses and right into where his doe eyes stared back at you, skittish and flustered, “Are these new?” 

Spencer licked his lips nervously, “I used to wear glasses when I was a kid but now I wear contacts,” He said, rubbing clammy palms over his trousers. He could smell your detergent from here, the same one he’d seen you pour over your laundry just a few hours earlier, ‘Blossom breeze’ or something girly and sweet and floral like that. He didn’t know the brand, but it was entirely intoxicating, except he suspected it had nothing to do with the liquid and more to do with the fact he could see your nipples pressing against your shirt when you stood so close to him, “Girls don’t really think scrawny guys in glasses are.. hot,” 

You sniggered, though your brows furrowed the slightest bit, “Who told you that?” 

“Lot’s of girls, more than once actually, it’s just kind of common knowledge,” He fumbled, his chest pricking with nerves when your fingers moved up to grip his waist gently, thumbs danced down his hip bones, the gentle touch alone stirring his cock into a painfully hard stance. He gulped, the sound loud in the sombre twilight of the kitchen, and for a guy who had aced every single test he’d ever taken, who played chess against himself for fun to guess his next five moves, Spencer had no clue where he existed outside of your body so close to his, looking at him like he was a puppy begging for treats if he gave paw. 

“I think those girls are absolute boneheads if they can’t see how pretty you are, Spence,” You said his name as if it was the only one that had ever mattered, and he couldn’t help how his chest swelled at the sentiment, even if he wasn’t so off guard as to actually believe that. You’d always had this way of making people feel special, he saw it at your family barbecue last Summer, when your cousins flocked around you like you were their Queen Bee, how you seemed to make waiters and waitresses alike flush under your preening smiles and 'please's and 'thankyou's whenever you took Spencer and your brother out for dinner. 

“T-thankyou,” He replied after a thick breath, his chest rattling as you pulled him towards your calm figure, and he let himself be guided like he were leashed, “Y-you’re pretty too,”

He wanted to tell you so much more than that, that you were beautiful like all the popular girls at school were, only humble and kind like the golden part of you glittered inside too, except before he could even attempt at expanding on his three pathetic little words he’d stammered through laboured breaths, he effectively got fully disconnected from his brain when you leaned in towards his face and brushed your nose against his, testing the waters. 

Your gaze trailed up to his innocently, so close he could feel your minty breaths fanning over his bottom lip, and he guessed you’d already brushed your teeth ready for bed. 

“You really think I’m pretty, Spence?” You asked naively, even if he knew it was just because he forgot how to speak when you were too forward, as if you were trying not to spook a deer. He nodded quickly, his eyes zeroing on where your mouth was mere centimetres away from him, one single shiver in his spine and he would be kissing you, and like you’d heard his train of thought, you pushed your lips against his softly, his body jolting with an electric shock. 

There could be sirens surrounding the entire house and he would be none the wiser, because in mere seconds his blood was rushing through his eardrums, sounding like radio static, and it was only when he felt the vibration of it against his mouth did he realise you’d whined, and his hands sprung to life, cupping both your cheeks and tugging you closer to his face as if he was clinging onto every second of the feeling. 

Spencer groaned, a sound he didn’t even realise he was going to make until he felt your fingers squeeze him lightly, and he snapped back into his body like a hair tie slinging him back into a world where the girl he’d had a teeny, tiny, maddening crush on for months was making out with him in her kitchen. 

“‘Gotta be quiet, baby, my parents are asleep,” You said, breathless as you ripped yourself away from him, despite the fact he was insistently pulling you back towards his mouth, and you smiled up at his urgency, “You ever kissed a girl before, Spence?”  

He sighed, and you’d never counted him as sassy until you heard it, almost spoiled and bratty now you’d given him a taste of heaven and held it back from him for the sake of small talk.

“Once, at recess in fifth grade, but it wasn’t like this,” He said, yanking you back towards him ravenously, and you let him devour your lips again, grinning into his desperate mouth, “Never been like this,” 

You weren’t sure whether he meant himself or what was likely a peck on the lips between kids as a dare, but you didn’t think too hard about it, as you slotted yourself back into his rough hands, calluses on the insides of his right fingertips from the years holding a pen so hard he might just break it. He felt your mouth open, and he followed your lead, your tongue feathering out with a shyness you showed nowhere else. And it was like every single statistic and number and fact about sharing saliva flew out of his head with wanton need as he dove right for the source, the tip of his tongue meeting yours with a warm nudge and he heard you mewl in pleasure. 

Spencer didn’t know what had come over him. Only moments ago he’d been too nervous to even look at you in fear of stumbled around a few syllables and calling them words. Yet here he was, his glasses slipping down his nose and pressing against the bridge of your own, your chest pressed so close to him he could feel your nipples pebbling against his TARDIS shirt, and it was like it was then he remembered you had no bottoms on except your panties. 

He hooked a hand underneath one of your legs, hiking it up to his waist and pushing even further up against you, the sudden movement making you gasp, your lower back hitting the dining table as his pubic bone ground against the ball of nerves that had been aching since you caught him shuffling around your kitchen in his damn Doctor Who pyjamas. 

Sliding his broad fingers up, your skin spread into gooseflesh and it was your turn to become putty under his touch as he bravely grabbed a handful of your arse, though his touch was still light and uncertain if he was crossing any boundaries. The change in position meant you felt yourself leaning back, your spine spreading out like a cat in warm sunlight, and he was quick to accommodate you, ever eager to please as Spencer was, moving away from the warmth of your mouth and kissing his way down to your pulse, the feeling of it making both of you hum on quietened tones in pleasure. 

“Why have we never done this before?” You asked breathlessly, your chest rising frantically as you gasped for air, a hushed moan bleeding into your airways. 

Spencer held you upright with one of his long arms, thought his mouth devoured a path over your collar bones, heading right for where your breasts lay in wait, and he didn’t even bother trying to remove your top as he kissed over your nipple with hungry, warm lips. 

“I dunno, probably because Ryan wouldn’t be too happy with me trying to fuck his sister while he’s eating dinner,” Spencer said without thinking, his tone sharp and witty as ever, like the noises you were making and the desperation in your touch seemed to rewire his thoughts into something overindulged. 

But you laughed, loud enough you slapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from waking up the whole house, because you had no idea how you’d explain to them why you and Spencer had ended up half sprawled on the dining table as he practically fixed himself onto every inch of you. And without warning he chuckled too, the vibration blowing over your skin that was already humming with excitement. 

“Do you think we could do this more often?” You asked, raising yourself up onto your elbows as his hands spread over your stomach, riding your top up just the smallest bit so he could kiss over your stomach, his pupils blown out into planets behind his glasses, his cheeks tinged raspberry red, his gaze drunken like he was in some sort of sugar rush only ready to stop when he’d gotten his fill, though at the rate he was going Spencer thought that day might not actually come. 

You were a drug, a nectar he’d never come close to, and he felt like every kiss to your skin only made that well in his stomach dig deeper and deeper, possibly never running dry as his every thought overflowed with drops of you, and your smell, and your taste, and your tongue. 

Missing your lips, he moved back up to your face, crashing his mouth back onto yours as your fingers raked through his hair, the sensation jolting his rod like appendage into you own pelvis, the two of you shivering with the feeling of it. 

“I think we can arrange that,” He murmured, and you grinned up at him devilishly as he fiddled with the cotton hem of your underwear nervously, his boldness wearing off as he saw that glint in your eyes that spelled trouble. But he understood that nervous and excitement felt so similar it was easy to mistake one for the other, perhaps even mesh both together at the same time, and the logical explanation for his clammy hands and racing heart seemed to soothe him the slightest bit. 

He loved sleepovers at your house.

[regretisstoredintheme]

I just had an idea! And I think its cute yet funny and maybe even a little angsty, but hear me out. Reader got a crush on rise! Donnie but doesn’t act on it/tries to stomp it down cuz Donnie is obviously married to science. But then! He got accidentally splashed/drunk a love potion (which actually heightens the emotions and feelings for a person that are already there) and Donnie looks at reader and he falls for them! (He already had a liking towards them but now it got heightened)

He still acts like himself but in love and more boldly!

Reader feels conflicted because they like the attention and stuff Donnie gives them but also sad because Donnie only acts like that because of the potion. Shenanigans ensue, till the potion wears off andddd you decide how it ends

I thought this could be a pretty fun prompt/theme/etc to do

Also you’re amazing! Love you’re writing! I definitely vote for you! And I hope you have an amazing timezone!

*crawls out of cave and GRASPS request*

Well hello there heh… if it isn’t my imaginary audience!

In the name of Science (A oneshot) - Rise!Donatello X Reader

Warnings: Possibly OOC? if you’ve seen the ROTTMNT episode “mind meld” then this will be fine In comparison

A/N: I know this isn’t exactly what was requested, but I hope it’s fun to read! I feel like I’m a full fledged fanfiction writer now that I have a love potion story 😭😭 I doubt this person even remembers their request anymore, but it was great inspiration nonetheless, thank you to them!

—

Here’s the thing, Donnie wasn’t exactly the easiest turtle to get a hold of. Not when he’s holed up in his room, working on the next big this or the breakthrough that.. at least, he always seemed to be, around you. Clearly he was avoiding you, right? Why would he be so boisterous and proud around his brothers and then suddenly become a recluse with you? April suggested he was simply not warmed up yet, however the little inkling of doubt in your brain strung into the long thread of yarn that wove a different tale.

No, he had to hate you. Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so much. If he hated you, and didn’t simply not like you.

That’s why this was so conflicting.

He had been giving a demonstration, only to you, of something that he had created. (Of course, nobody else was home for him to rant to, naturally he would target the one person who happened to walk into his lab. This wasn’t special, you weren’t special, right? It was a matter of chance— don’t get your hopes up.)

The genius scientist seemed rather excited about this mysterious concoction, which he held in a glass vial. Something, something Oxytocin something, something heartrate— it was lovely just to see him ramble to YOU for once— not that this was special, of course.

At the last possible moment, he had offered you the vial, a proud smile on his face as he suggested you take a closer look at its contents. Unfortunately, you were a little… side tracked. It was heavier than you had expected— even if only by a few grams— that unfortunately didn’t matter when you were staring at the glass on the floor and the mysterious solution that had spilled everywhere including on the two of your feet. You were wearing shoes, but Donnie— well, he never wore shoes.

Donnie’s eyes widened as he looked up at you, horror etched in every wrinkle of his frown. You looked so apologetic, so, so very sorry that his only successful experiment was lying in pieces on the ground. Your eyes were so worried, so caring about what he had to say, and well…

“Shit.” Donnie threw his eyes in another direction, grabbing a rag from off the counter and squatting to try and get the solution off his skin. He hadn’t thought of the idea that it might work through topical use… Ergo! He was royally fucked.

“Donnie? Donnie seriously, if there’s any way I can make it up to you—“

He swallowed, looking back in your direction only to see your face again. How he hated the worry on your face, if it was any other situation he would have been angry and frustrated— but this was different. The solution was for you, anyway, what did it matter if you broke it? It was yours, and so was his heart the moment he laid eyes on you.

“Don’t—“ he coughed, “Don’t you worry your pretty head about it, it only took me a few days to make.” He shrugged it off like it was nothing, the flames of his frustration strangely suppressed under the blush on his face.

Pretty? That was new. He’d never spoken that way before..

“Donnie?” Your head tilted, eyes widened.

He liked that look on you, the confusion of his behavior— it meant you were paying attention. “What? This?” He glanced down at the mess, which seemed like a puddle of nothing now, he stepped through it to get closer. “Don’t worry about that.”

You were starting to wonder what the experiment actually was…

Meanwhile, Donnie was wondering how important his mysterious bad boy image actually was..

“Don’t worry about it? Donnie, what did that liquid do?” Your voice was like music, if he were himself, he would have been upset with how little you had paid attention, but you were looking at him now, weren’t you? He’d be happy to re-explain!

“A neuron chemical enhancer.” He spoke in that way he always does, but upon seeing the confusion grow on your face, he found himself wanting to elaborate in your terms. He loved your terms. “I curated it specifically for… romance.” He continued to explain, getting a little closer to you now. It was subconscious, he didn’t even realize he was doing it, he simply was.

That’s when it clicked. A love potion, that’s what it was— he had chemically engineered a love potion — what for? Why did he make it? You weren’t sure, but you knew his sudden advances couldn’t be genuine.

And yet, as his hand grabbed your wrist, you found yourself.. yearning for this side of him.

“Are you hurt? Didn’t get hit by the glass, did you?” Donnie asked, despite the fact that he, himself was standing in the shards. Jesus— you knew he was made for war, but… Wasn’t that uncomfortable? You’d never seen him so worried about anything other than quadratic equations..

“No— no, Donnie— are you sure you’re quite yourself?” Your words were drowned out by the smile on his face, the sigh of relief in which he was so glad you weren’t hurt. He couldn’t bear if you were hurt by one of his experiments, it would crush him. “Oh I’m so glad!” He immediately lit up, the kind of expression you were sure only his brothers saw— if his brothers even looked hard enough to see it. It was the kind of look he gave when he entered a library, when he was showing off an invention. The way his eyes crinkled at the edges and he lightly squeezed your arm, “Well, now that that’s taken care of, how about we sit down so you can listen to more of my thoughts?” It was too much.

“Donnie, Donnie— I’m starting to get worried about you..” your hand rested on his shell— well, on his battle shell, and he frowned, his brows raised, “well, if you don’t want that, perhaps I could interest you in some other stimulating entertainment?” He gestured grandiosely back at his elaborate gaming setup, hoping to tempt you into gaming with him.

“No, not like that,” You almost wanted to laugh, he was suddenly so desperate to keep you in his lab. “You don’t normally act like this… this.. interested..”

Interested? Whatever could you possibly mean? He hadn’t the foggiest! “Surely you’re not declining?” He frowned, brows furrowed.

“No, I’m just saying,” You continued to try and explain your point, lightly pushing him away and watching as he descended into discomfort at the distance, “You’re never this touchy— you don’t touch at all, in fact. This all started with that experiment… are you sure you’re not…”

Donnie’s eyes searched your expression as you spoke. He was unable to make eye contact for more than a moment, but he blamed that on your superb features. “Not what?” He folded his arms, more and more upset as he was pushed away. “Do you suddenly dislike my presence?”

“Donnie, no..” you sighed at the soft shell’s… soft shell. “Are you sure you’re not under the influence of anything?”

The turtle laughed, no, scoffed right in your face. “Me? Influenced by something? Please.” Donnie ‘susceptible to hypnosis’ Hamato confidently got closer again, now convinced you weren’t avoiding him for the reasons he was worried about. “The only thing I am influenced by is the way you captivate me.”

He paused, a look of horror appearing back onto his face. Okay, he was seeing it now. Did that really fall out of his mouth? He… no, it couldn’t be— could it? He… he sounded like… like Leo! His hand covered his mouth.

It seemed his experiment had finally worn off.

“Oh no.” If it was possible, he went pale in the face, the confidence from earlier completely stripped away as he stood with only a racing heart and flushed face. “What happened? What did I do?” He speedily backed up, momentarily lapsing memory of the past five minutes. You immediately felt bad.

“Nothing, Don, are you okay?” Of course it wasn’t real, why would it be real? He was just embarrassed by how the solution affected him.

Donnie grimaced, remembering what had happened in the span of a few moments. Many emotions were coursing through him right now— discomfort, embarrassment, frustration… and disappointment. “I’m…” his furrowed brows softened, his expression shifted to remorse. “It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.” He folded his arms once again, his hands clenched into fists.

What did he mean by that? As a matter of fact…

“Donnie, what was the potion… originally for?” You took a step forward, over the spill on the floor. The terrapin huffed, “it’s not a potion. It’s not mystic— I made it myself!” He was caught between wanting to be haughty and proud of himself and feeling bad for.. well..

“And.. it was for you.” He sighed, fiddling with his elbow pads, “I thought I could win you over with the power of science— clearly my methods weren’t as successful as I would have hoped.” He didn’t feel guilty, no— rather, he was upset the potion.. sorry, SOLUTION hadn’t worked for a longer period of time. “It clearly wasn’t strong enough..” he frowned, frustration building back up in his chest, “I’ll have to start from scratch, perhaps I can up the concentration of the liquified gasses…” he turned to his work station, his notes, reading on as if you weren’t there.

“It was for… me?” It felt like a bomb exploding in your chest. He what!? For you? For why? You approached the desk, seeing as the lists of chemical compounds and experiments, diagrams of neuron pathways and the science of this thing called “romance.”

He was doing everything in the book BUT courting you.

“Donnie?” You placed his hand on his shoulder this time, to which he lifted up his goggles and met your gaze, “hm? Yes?” He didn’t seem at all phased by you figuring out his plan, rather he seemed more steadfast in his science.

“Was it for… you.. and me…? For…?”

Nod.

“You know this isn’t necessary, right?”

Pause.

“..What’s that supposed to mean?” He furrowed his brows, what were you saying now? He tapped his fingers on his desk, waiting eagerly for your reply. You took deep breaths, stilling your heart beneath his intense gaze.

“I already like you, Donnie.”

….

He stood from his desk, staring at you. His eyes held something unintelligible, searching your face. His brows furrowed and mouth slightly agape, you could swear he had stopped breathing.

……..

………..

“What?!”

—

A/N: considering Donnie had literally changed his brother’s brain chemistry in making them more like him, he is NOT above trying to change the thought processes of someone he likes LMAOOO

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Happy to help

Pairing: Joel Miller x gn!reader Rating: + 18, NSFW, MDNI Words count: 669 Summary: You get turned on reading smut in a cafe and someone seems to know exactly what you need Tags: reading smut in public, sex with a stranger, Joel gets you off in a public restroom, use of 'honey' once, reader has no description and I tried to keep it gender neutral, it's you bb, we all deserve to be touched by Joel. Let me know if I need to change or improve anything. A/N: I have basically no wips (well, I have one that I'm working on, it will be here soon) but I have random horny thoughts that I decide to write down before they evaporate from my stupid brain. It took me 15 minutes to write this but I hope it brings you pleasure for much longer. 😏 Thanks to anyone who will read! Masterlist I Joel Masterlist

You’re in a cafe, sitting on a comfy chair, sipping on your favorite warm drink and scrolling down your phone.

There are several people around but no one seems to care about you since everyone is engrossed working on their laptops or chatting with someone or talking business down their phone.

There’s not a soul in that place that seems to notice you.

So you open Tumblr on your phone and you decide to indulge in some hot steamy smut.

You browse through tags finding exactly what you need.

You lean on the chair, crossing your legs while you start reading.

And it’s the most smutty thing ever, all your favorite kinks are there and this writer seems to know exactly what your wet dreams are made of.

Your face starts to feel heated and your pants are getting wet.

You change position on the chair, cross your legs again, bring a hand to your mouth in surprise and lick your lips repeatedly.

You can clearly feel a trickle of your pleasure leaking out from your sex and damping your underwear.

You’re unhinged and so horny you might almost risk lowering a hand to the crotch of your pants to seek relief.

You look up for just a moment and there’s a guy, two tables away.

He looks at you intently.

He knows what you’re doing.

And the mothefucker smirks and winks at you.

Right there in a place full of people.

He’s the only one who saw you growing more and more needy, staring at your phone like you were hypnotized.

You stop in your track feeling ashamed.

He’s a hunk.

Gorgeous face, broad shoulders jaw dropping guy.

He seems pretty much like the character you’re reading about.

He takes his mug, sipping on his coffee, not breaking eye contact.

You clutch the phone in the palm of your hand, not knowing what to do.

Smut is still there, open for all to see on your screen.

You realize this and brush your thumb across the screen to close it.

You get up slowly, gathering your things and heading for the bathroom. You lean against the sink, letting out a long “what the fuck” sigh. The bathroom is empty and silent. You're trying to get your breathing back to normal when you hear the door open.

You look up at the mirror in front of you and see a guy approaching.

It's him.

You open your eyes wide as he hugs you from behind, trapping you between him and the sink. “Do you need a hand?” he whispers in your ear.

You don't know him, you've never seen him before but he's damn good looking and his hands close to yours on the edge of the sink send a shiver down your spine. They're big, prominent veins and long fingers, slightly calloused, short nails, they look like working hands. Experienced working hands. So you answer “yes”.

He unzips your jeans, puts his hand down your underwear and starts stroking you. More and more intensely, faster and faster until you're at the limit and the only thing you can do is moan and squirm in his arms.

“Look at us. Look at us in the mirror while you come, honey” he groans.

And you come, heavily, dripping in his palm and your underwear, with the most intense orgasm you've had in a while.

"Fuck" you hiss.

He keeps stroking you until you're a sweaty mess leaning on his broad chest.

His eyes are dark and lusty in the mirror, your face looks like a wreck and he smirks at you before licking a strip on your neck, savoring your salty flavor on his tongue.

You feel his hard on pressing against your butt.

"Happy to help" he whispers.

Before leaving, he takes a business card out of his back pocket. There is a name and a phone number printed on it. “Call me if you need anything else.”

You hold the card in your hands and read 'Joel Miller. Contractor.'

You smile.

After all, it would be time to do some maintenance work on your house and you could use his working hands.

taglist: @aurorawritestoescape , @baronessvonglitter , @joelmillerisapunk , @milla-frenchy , @probablyreadinsmut , @harriedandharassed , @thundermartini , @almostempty , @cas-readsandwrites

archive tag: @pedrostories

let me know if you want to be added or removed, I'll do it right away.

[aluciahaz]

may i just say that your character writing is AMAZING! i honestly don’t check up on your blog a lot but when i do i’m left SHAKING because your shit is soooo hot.

Anyways i humbly come requesting mommy kink with vox because you know i’m all about that. he’s so desperate for validation and scared of rejection i feel like he’d be weeping at a domme mommy type reader. Anyways, do what you want with this!

once again i love your work! sincerely, bimbo <3

oh my god it's one of my favorite writers on tumblr🦅 thank you so much for the compliment it means a lot 😭 also i loved writing this ive desperately needed more vox asks! hope you enjoy! (kinda went ham on metaphors 💀 mb)

greed never stops

—vox x f!reader

—includes: overstim, tons of crying, begging, light bondage

vox was a walking, living(?) juxtaposition.

he’ll go barking orders to his subordinates, control most situations with smooth, quick thinking, and command his business with an iron fist.

but with you, the other side of his screen is on full display. his vulnerable, attention-desperate, failure-fearful self. you’ve seen it enough times to notice how it seeps into his daily life. how his control is really just a mechanism to take hold of his vulnerability, hiding it behind a mess of steel wires to make anyone who would try and reach it get tangled in its grasp.

but the moments he lets you untangle his facade, allowing you to see his true self, he feels free. even if most of the time it was during more intimate moments in the night. it was where he could truly indulge in his unfamiliar desires, crying and begging for the validation he was always seeking.

and you were the one he needed it from.

your praise was one of the highest in the hierarchy of compliments, making him feel like he was burning up, frying his brain in a way that made him feel like he’s short-circuited, but the feeling of fuzziness was intoxicating. he could never give up the taste of your compliments.

“come on, aren’t you a good boy? you can hold out for a little longer.”

those words were like rich liquor, and vox was an eager drinker. it swirled his thoughts into a never-ending spiral, and he could only cry in response as you touched his face with a gentleness that rivals an angel’s.

“b-but, mommy—!” he sobs as your fingers drive into him for what seems the thousandth time, his voice module starting to struggle as he tries to speak.

“oh?” you raise your eyebrow, feigning shock before narrowing your eyes, pressing him further down the sheets in disdain. is he still being ungrateful?

“but what, huh? don’t tell me you need more already! you’re such a greedy fucking slut,” you spit out, watching his eyes shoot open from the whiplash of your cruel words. “maybe i should stop—,”

“NO! nono, please! no! i’m sorry—!” he keens as your fingers slowly start to slip out of him, the sound so indecent it makes him shiver.

he pushes his hips up into your hand, trying to follow them only for your other hand to shove his hips back down on the sheets, your fingers twisting nearly all the way out before ramming back in, curling in wickedly that seems to shut him up briefly as he catches a breath that ran away.

vox weeps, unable to do anything else as his claws rip into the mattress, his legs shake and tremble as though they weren’t practically crushing you before. he seems so fragile at this moment, yet you knew he could take much more.

he just didn’t deserve it.

he whines and screams at your touch, tears starting to fall down his pretty little face as the small amount of dignity he had seems to get lost, overrun by your torturous fingers and unyielding pleasure that shoots through his body like a current.

“mommy—ha—please jus—zz—t fuck me, oh, god!” his head drops back down onto the pillows as your fingers wrap around his weeping cock, making his back arch as he sobs out noncoherent pleads. it’s beautifully pathetic.

his legs, weak and feeble, were strewn across the bed with previous markings trailing up his inner thigh, his neck even more decorated with a necklace of red, the glimmer of sweat that covers his whole body making those bites shine similar to crude rubies.

his hands, now tied with his own wires behind the bed (he charges there before he goes to sleep) were sullied with crimson from the tightness of the metal around his wrist, but not as bright crimson as his eyes, which flashed with bright red hearts intermittently. it was always a pleasant surprise, and a sign that he fucking loved this. no matter how much he complained at the start, his eyes spoke the truth.

which is why now, as you replace your fingers with his favorite strap, you know he’s absolutely overjoyed as those beating hearts seem to overtake his pupils once more, pulsating with a hypnotizing spiral.

“finally—! oh—zzz—FUCK!” his last word is practically inaudible with the airiness in his voice, his tone starting to distort, yet, your pace was slow. shallow, even. tears of frustration started to form at the ends of his eyes, his whines more pitiful as he tries to fuck himself back on your strap, only to be stopped by your sturdy grip on his hips.

“what do you say, vox?“ you asked, irritation slipping into your voice. how could he still be so ungrateful? but, he catches on fast, looking up at you with round, glossy eyes.

“thank you! thank—thank you, mommy!” he stumbles out before you switch up your pace instantly, brutally ramming into him just how he likes it. it makes him unable to fathom he could have been known to be anything but yours, surrendering his well-built persona to you. all of it, for your praise.

“such a good boy.”

those words were priceless, but he always ends up trying to buy them with obedience. and even though he’s successfully checked out with such praise, they still have the same effect on him every time.

he shudders and wails with ruined pitch, his screen flickering in and out of error messages and his lovely expression as he gets his reward. there was just something so satisfying about earning your praise.

sure, he can buy pretty much anything, and yes, he can get people to kneel at his feet, but he can’t cry without shame, or indulge in his true desires of being completely wrecked with soft words and fast hips with anyone. no, it could only be you. and even if he practically has everything under his hands, he will always be greedy for your affection, begging, screaming for a chance to have it set his whole body ablaze with its foreign warm feeling.

it makes him lost. no matter how much intelligence vox has, he always finds himself unable to search his way out of the feeling of pure lust overtaking his senses when you fuck him with abandon, his need to keep face seemingly never being there in the first place as tears make him short-circuit, and pleads for you to never stop. he doesn’t want to leave this labyrinth of carnality. he wants to stay lost in it forever.

it’s why even after he cums with a high-pitch sob so loud you thought his volume module broke, he kept weeping incoherently as the lights flicker in the room, his legs practically numb. and finally, he looks up at you, sniffling and choking on his words he’ll pretend to regret the next morning.

“m-more. please, mommy—! AH!” his whole body jolts as you heed his wishes, leaving him to fall back into the pleasure that he craves. he babbles on and on with thank yous and nonsensical sentences, the night seeming to become never-ending even with daybreak inching closer and closer.

vox is unable to speak at the end, and god does everything fucking hurt. his arms ache and his legs are definitely going to be an issue when he has to walk. there are marks all over his skin that will never see the light of day, yet be around for plenty of nights.

but you both know he’ll come back for more. his greed is an unquenchable thirst, and your praise is the only fountain that seems to satiate it, even if only for a little while.

(i totally didnt forget to tag)

tags: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @mvskedxrtist @drlucichen @luciferspetduck

[n0tamused]

Can i request a drabble with Newbie Assistant reader! x jing yuan? I've been thinking (daydreaming) abt this for a while with my delulu brain. From what qingzu says, he prefers everyone adress him as jing yuan. And not full title.

OR

Where reader is his wife and he can't go 1 minute without hugging her and worst part, she works at the seat of divine foresight and everyone at the seat has to witness his love sick behavior. I imagine especially fu xuan will be pissed like 'get to work, general!'

Honestly just a food for thought u don't have to take this srsly. Luv u, byeee <33

A/n: Anon you got my gears turning with this food and you have successfully dragged me out of the hole of writer's block. Thank you for that and I really hope you enjoy this little drabble I made, specifically for the second prompt! Man I love this man I wanna eat him. Just imagine him with a wife that's also on the strict side and just knows to get him back to his work but he just wants another kiss before he lets her leave his embrace-

Content: female reader, fluff, drabble

Big arms find their place around her waist and before she can pluck them off, Jing Yuan has slotted himself against her back. His chin rested on top of her shoulder and his golden eyes sluggish dragged their gaze over the documents his lovely wife was working on sorting out. A signature smile remained plastered over his lips even when he felt the scolding words bubble in your throat.

He never shared her shyness, as he called it, in the workplace. It was nothing that could damage either of their reputation, a little bit of hugging and a few cheek kisses here and there - if anything, he held firm belief that more warm displays of affection could even make the workplace be less stagnant. Why does everyone have to be so stiff? Jing Yuan knew to not cross any boundaries that could make his affections be perceived as something odd or even bad. But in an empty office, like the state it was in now, where no one paid them any mind, he really couldn’t help but pounce at the opportunity. 

“Have you finished your paperwork so soon today, General?” she’d bite at him with her words, fully familiar with his tendencies to neglect the piling papers on his desk. 

“Certainly. For today I have done the amount my hands could endure” Jing Yuan responded with a peck to the side of her exposed neck, smiling into her skin when he smelled some of his soap there. She smelled so warm, so relaxing, and it made him squeeze her in his arms just a little more. He heard his love exhale at his squeeze, and despite the facade she tried to keep on, he could see traces of a smile on her pretty lips when he lifted his gaze. “And what did we say about name calling? I’m Jing Yuan to you, your white lion, your husband, am I not?” He playfully nips at her ear, his warm breath fanning across her skin and making her hairs stand on their ends. “Or have you decided to take back your vows all of a sudden?” That gains a reaction out of you, a huff of a chuckle flying past your mouth at the absurd way he delivered that question. He sounded so serious about it, offended even, making her shift in his embrace.

“Jing Yuan-”

“You just keep gaining more beauty, my love, do you know?”

A long sigh and her shaking her head tell him enough, and he smiles when he sees her smile. “Don’t try to weasel your way out of this. Unhand me now, my dearest husband-” she says it as if she hates it, swatting at his hands until their grip falters. She could swat at them all she wanted but she knew that getting him off of her in this instant would be like trying to separate a nail from the flesh. “You may have done what you think is all for today, but I have more work to get to.. Tell you what..” her eyes finally grace him with the attention of her gaze and he feels like kissing her again, but he refrains as to hear her out. “If you tend to all those papers I’ll pamper your scoundrel self once we are back home, hm? If you don’t, well you can expect the cold shoulder and the couch as your bedroom until it gets done” 

“You are too cruel to me, my dear, you hurt me so..” he feigns offense, all while he leans in and litters her cheek with feather kisses before he finally gets to her lips. One of his hands had snuck its way up and held her other cheek in its palm, tilting her head towards him as he pressed his lips against hers. 

"You know I must resort to rougher measures when you're slacking off-" "Shhh.." he hushes her and places another kiss to her mouth.

Safe to say, that paperwork did get done later. And Jing Yuan got to enjoy a really touchy afternoon with you in his arms. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

@melodicwriter I'm borrowing your meme to start a tag post, hope that's okay! 😁

So, my writer friends...

What's a line/scene you've written that you're REALLY proud of?

(Doesn't have to be Shakespeare, just one that makes you feel like everything you've written to get to that point in the story is worth it 😄)

No pressure tags: @lifblogs @niobiumao3 @kybercrystals94 @archivewriter1ont @gonky-kong @indigofyrebird @fanfoolishness @ireadwithmyears @royallykt @apocalyp-tech-a and anyone else who wants to share!!!

*********

For me, the first one that comes to mind is a specific exchange between (Star Wars) Bad Batch's Hunter and Crosshair. Picturing this scene - and hitting on the last few sentences shared here (in bold) - is what convinced me to turn some of my post-season 3 finale Hunter headcanons into a full fanfic. (I'm including some of the initial dialogue from the scene for further context.)

“I wasn’t there for him.”

Crosshair spoke quietly, and Hunter almost flinched at the words – he could guess where this was going. “Crosshair, don’t…”

“I’m the sniper. I’m supposed to watch your backs. I wasn’t there to watch his.”

“His death was not your fault,” Hunter insisted.

“I… I know that now,” Crosshair said, briefly dropping his gaze before looking up again at the memorial, though now not seeming to really see it. “Even if I had been there to help you all find Hemlock, Tech might have died anyway. Still, I failed all of you. I’m trying to make up for it. Omega says Tech wanted us to live and be happy, so… I’m trying. I’m trying to live up to what he sacrificed himself for. But that doesn’t change the fact that I failed him, I wasn’t there for him, and now he’s gone, I can’t make it up to him, and I’m going to have to live with that for the rest of my life.”

Crosshair was relating his own personal thoughts and feelings; yet it was as if he had reached into Hunter’s brain and pulled out all the darkest thoughts lurking there, giving them substance in words. But those thoughts shouldn’t belong to Crosshair, those words shouldn’t be coming from Crosshair’s mouth; that guilt was Hunter’s to own, and Hunter’s alone.

“Crosshair, I am – was – the sergeant. I’m supposed to lead. Protecting you all is my responsibility.”

“And you have,” the other replied, now looking Hunter square in the face. “You still do. You’re not watching just our backs, either – you’re… you’re everywhere all at once, all the time, protecting us. We’re going to make our own decisions, Hunter, and you couldn’t stop Tech from making his; but you were there for him all the time. You were there with him. And that matters.”

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the treacherous tyrant

the wistful wyvern, chapter three

a/n: I'm just gonna take this moment as an excuse to say that if you haven't yet checked out the info or maps about this world i've created, then i highly recommend you do, it'll make it much more fun, for example when we hop around from place to place in this one? you can spot on the map where we are.

summary: halting a moment, he turned to tug your horse’s reins out of your grasp and let her stand on her own, “look, just follow my lead,” before he turned with the expectancy of you shadowing him, “I have a plan.” 

warnings: knight!bucky barnes x knight!reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, ex-friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, former fuckboy!bucky, tattooed!bucky, slow burn, one-sided pinning, forced proximity

word count: 1374

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

info about the world | maps | pinterest board | playlist

masterlist | join my taglist

“What is it?” you asked when Bucky suddenly leapt off his horse and kneeled down to investigate a spot on the dusty path that split the treacherous terrain. 

“…boot marks…” he mumbled, “fairly recent too…” 

It had been a week or so that you’d been stuck trying to navigate through the jagged landscape of The Asadånie Mountains. From climbing rocky hillsides to the crumbly trail you now followed, it had been hard to know if you were making any headway at all or simply walking in circles. 

Straightening back up to his full height, you slid off your horse as well just as a low rustling noise, from further up where the path curved, found both your alert ears. 

Swiftly, you rushed in behind the tall shrubs that grounded the thin pine trees that shot up towards the blue skies above the mountains. 

The bigger of the peaks before you appeared to open up into a dark cave. In the mouth of it, posted just outside, stood three figures that sent a chill down your spine. 

Silently nudging the knight hiding beside you, his eyes too grew wide with recognition of the uniforms they wore. 

“What are Oblén soldiers doing up here in the mountains?” he whispered, sharing a glance with you before you turned your gaze back to the guards. 

A fourth figure then appeared, marching out of the cavern and prompting the other warriors to go rigid at his presence. 

“Commander Abbot,” one of the soldiers addressed the man clad in gilded armour, “did it go as planned?”

“Well, I still have my head, you idiot,” he rolled his eyes, “so yes, it went as well as it could.” 

“So, The Treacherous Tyrant is agreeable to the king’s orders, then?” one of the others asked as their commander began to walk away from the grotto, the guard’s feet slightly shuffling to keep up, “will he strike again before next full moon?” 

“As long as we keep his dearest safe, then he will continue to do as the king commands.” 

You both stood frozen, hidden behind the flora as the soldiers from the southern kingdom passed, scarlessly even breathing at all before they were long gone. 

“The dragon’s in cahoots with them?” you uttered as you guided your horse back up onto the narrow path, “how is that even possible?”

With his gaze low to the ground, Bucky then mumbled, “The Treacherous Tyrant… I’ve heard that before… what was it…” he shut his eyes a moment, “Farrowghol,” his vision blinked open once more as he remembered, “Farrowghol, The Treacherous Tyrant.”

“Holy fuck…” you shuttered, unable to stop the terror that began to rain down upon you as you stared over at Bucky and saw the wheels in his brain still turning. 

“They mentioned something about keeping something dear to him safe?” his features crinkled up in thought before unfurling with clarity, “oh, what if–…” and before he could finish his own sentence, share his brilliant idea with you, his feet began to move. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I have a feeling,” he began to walk towards the cave entrance, “something’s off.”

“You have a feeling? You’re gonna go get flambeed based on a fucking feeling?”

Halting a moment, he turned to tug your horse’s reins out of your grasp and let her stand on her own, “look, just follow my lead,” before he turned with the expectancy of you shadowing him, “I have a plan.” 

“Fuck your plan!” you screeched, standing your ground, “I’m not going in there!”

But as you watched him get swallowed by the darkness of the cave, only a few seconds passed by before a sharp curse burst out of you and you reluctantly followed him inside. 

Catching up to him, the dark tunnel soon unfolded into a vast and echoing grotto. Stalagmites burst up from the rocky floor and surrounded various mountainous boulders that might have crashed from parts of the caved-in ceiling where light now streamed in through the cracks and lit up the dim interior. 

For a moment, you thought perhaps the beast had flown away right before you’d entered the cavern.

But that moment didn’t get to linger for long as one of the enormous silhouettes you’d assumed was just another boulder began to move. 

The deep growl that then rumbled throughout the lair caused the small rubble on the ground to vibrate around your boots. 

Its scales were such a murky brown that it nearly looked pitch black, and as it reflected in the rays of light gushing in from above, an opalescent sheen glistened on its hide at its movements as its head unfurled, towering above you and eclipsing the low light before its wide jaw unhinged and a smouldering glow began to appear in the back of its throat. 

Throwing an arm around your waist, Bucky yanked you with him as he ducked behind a nearby boulder just before the monster began to spew fire at you. 

As flames licked up the sides of the rock, the view of them cresting over the top caused you to curl further into Bucky’s side. 

But when the dragon paused a moment, reeling before another go, the man beside you unexpectedly yelled, “we’re here to help!”

Shooting a glare up at him, “what the fuck, man?” you cursed in a hushed tone, “what are you doing? Shaking its hand and offering it a fucking pint?”

The leviathan’s booming rumble then invaded the entire cavern, “Farrowghol doesn’t need the help of wheezily little insects,” his heavy stride shook the space as he circled you like a large cat ready to pounce on their prey. 

“King Ivan has something you love,” Bucky bellowed, “we can get it back for you!” 

Farrowghol then suddenly halted, the entire cavern growing dead quiet. 

“That’s why you’re doing their bidding, correct?” Bucky went on, “they took something from you?” he then shifted, slowly sliding his crossbow off his back, “you can trust us. See?” he tossed the weapon off to the side for the beast to spot, “you and I, we share the same enemy.”  

Squeezing your eyes tightly shut, you thought for sure the dragon would let you feel his wrath once more, but instead, his deep roar resounded once more. 

“Not something,” he corrected, “someone.”

“A person?” Bucky carefully stepped out, leaving your hidden frame still in his eye line as he faced the beast with his palms raised up high. 

“My kin,” the dragon bellowed, “that’s who he has imprisoned. Ready to crush each and every one of them if I don’t obey. They’re hidden deep within his walls, in a chamber made entirely of hellstone,” he spoke of the rare material, which was the only thing known to be able to withstand the obliterating breath of a dragon, “I could never reach them, even if I tried, and I have.” 

“We can get them back!” Bucky promised, “set you free from the king’s control!” 

You couldn’t help but tremble as the beast's words shook the lair once more, “I lost my mate aeons ago… Those eggs are all I have left,” he shared hesitantly, “if something happens to them,” he warned with a crackle that raised the temperature a significant amount, “I will burn down everything you hold sacred.” 

“Sounds fair enough,” your fellow warden nodded tensely, “and if we do this, you’ll hold out on their commands of attack?”

“You have one lunar cycle,” he slowly settled, “if my kin have not returned to my cave within that time, I will not hesitate to strike.”

When you finally exited the cave and the bright sunlight once more licked at your skin, Bucky’s tense shoulders dropped back down with a long exhale, whereas yours, on the other hand, did not. 

“Alright,” he muttered, passing you as he briskly walked up to where your horses were still waiting, “so we just break into the palace in Ingorn. The chamber, it’s probably like a vault or something? That can’t be too hard, right?” 

Trailing behind him, you breathed, “no, it is…” before halting your step completely as you sighed, “fuck…” staring daggers down at the ground as you then uttered, “I have to go speak to my father.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[theotherbuckley]

Im in love with this fic and i need more

🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵

You're an amazing writer btw 🩷🪱

Thank you! I'm glad people are liking this fic 🥰

Here's 900 more words just for you <3

🦵 - Buck and Tommy meet at physio after the truck bombing

Tommy isn’t there at his next physio appointment — now only seeing his physiotherapist once every two weeks, unlike Buck who still has to see her every week. The session feels slower than normal; it always does when he’s alone. Bobby promised him that next time he would be able to come with, but today, there’s no one, not even Tommy, to chat with afterwards. 

Dr Mistry seems to sense his subdued mood and has taken to being far more cheerful than he can ever recall.

“Why are you so happy?” he asks, slumping down into his chair after she had given his leg a deep and rather unpleasant massage. 

Dr Mistry turns to him, shooting him a look which he doesn’t care to decipher. “You are quiet. It’s unsettling.”

Buck opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again, staring at his doctor. “Hey, I don’t talk that much.”

“You haven’t even complained one time.”

And okay, that’s fair, but still. 

“I’m just tired,” Buck tells her. It’s not even a lie. He is tired. He’s always tired. He’s just a little spacey today. He’s been feeling quite defeated lately. Sometimes, it feels like all of his hard work is for nothing. His leg still aches like bitch whenever the weather changes, and he only just managed to complete the full length of the bar unaided last session, far behind where he should have been at this point. He’s trying so hard to get better, to work again, but it doesn’t matter how much effort he puts in, it’s never enough. He’s never enough. 

And when there’s nobody with him to tell his brain to shut up, he gets stuck inside his head, and he doesn’t quite know how to get out of it. 

It’s exhausting. 

So he’s tired. He really, really is. 

It’s just a type of tiredness that he doesn’t think he can recover from. Not until his leg is recovered, at least. 

Dr Mistry looks at him for a moment, her eyes scanning over his face, hyperanalysing his expressions as though she can see right down into his soul, see all of those helpless thoughts running around in his head. “There’s doctors for that,” she says, and Buck doesn’t have to ask what she means. 

“I don’t need therapy,” Buck says back, a little too defensively. He’s probably lying, but he doesn’t want to see anyone. He’s fine. He will be. It just takes time, isn’t that what everyone keeps saying?

“It’s not healthy to keep everything stuck inside. Sometimes it is good to let it all out,” she continues, ignoring his slight outburst. 

“I have people. It’s just— It’s hard when they’re not around.”

She nods in understanding but hands him a card anyway. “Just think about it.”

He takes the card begrudgingly and sticks it in his wallet, where he knows he’s not going to touch it again. He doesn’t need help. He just needs to be able to walk— to work. He’ll be fine after that. 

As soon as he gets home, he takes the card out of his wallet and stares at it. 

And then he texts Tommy. 

Buck: Have you ever seen a therapist?

Tommy: Hi Tommy how are you

I’m great thank you for asking

Buck: Yeah yeah

Answer the question

Tommy: I have

Buck: And? 

My doctor wants me to see one

But I don’t want to

Especially not after last time

I’m not that guy anymore

Tommy: Not what guy?

Buck: Not the guy who sleeps with his therapist

Tommy: I’m not sure if I should ask

Buck: Probably best

So..?

Tommy: Therapy helped me

I wasn’t a great guy before

Buck almost scoffs at his phone. Tommy the guy who drove him home and helped him up multiple flights of stairs, whilst injured, on their first meeting, wasn’t a good guy?

Buck: You? Be honest

Tommy: I wasn’t

Turns out repressing my sexuality and listening to what my father taught me is not a good combination

Hurt a lot of people because of it

But therapy helped

I’m comfortable being myself now

Buck has to pause at that. It’s not like there’s anything wrong with it, he just didn’t really expect it. Maybe that’s not a good thing to say. He’s an ally, actually. The rainbow flag in his bio every June proves that. 

Buck: Wait

You’re gay?

Tommy: I am, yeah. Is that a problem?

Buck: No of course not! Men are hot.

Tommy: Mmhmm  

Buck: So you think I should do it?

Tommy: Do what?

Buck: See a therapist

Tommy: I don’t know, Evan

That’s up to you

But if your doctor suggested it, maybe you should listen

Buck: And I don’t need to sleep with them?

Tommy: You definitely do not.

Even after the conversation, Buck can’t bring himself to dial the number on the card. His stomach rumbles after a while, and Buck looks at his watch, mildly surprised to find it past 3 pm. He drops the card on the coffee table, and hobbles to the kitchen with his cane to make himself some food. 

When he sits back down, his mind is focused on queer history, and he finds himself googling pride and forgetting all about therapy. It wasn’t like he needed it anyway.

[niniwritesxo]

ahhhhh i love ur fics sm!! ur such an amazing writer! if ur taking requests could u do something w roh jae won and reader crushing on eachother on the squid game set? have a good one !! ❤️❤️

‘you told me last night’

hope you like it !

꩜ —————————————————————————

filming squid game season 2 was already intense, but dealing with a growing crush on roh jae-won? that was a whole different kind of high-stakes game.

it had started small, things like stolen glances, playful teasing, the way his laughter always seemed to linger in your ears longer than anyone else’s. but lately, it had escalated. the late-night rehearsals, the dramatic tension during scenes, the accidental touches that sent electricity through your veins, it was becoming unbearable.

꩜ .ᐟ ————

“again?” you groaned, stretching your arms over your head. the entire set was nearly empty except for a few lingering staff members. the two of you had volunteered (or rather, been forced) to stay late and rehearse an upcoming emotionally charged scene.

“you’re the one who kept messing up,” jae-won teased, tossing you a water bottle.

“oh, excuse me, mr. perfect actor. maybe if you didn’t keep staring at me like that, i wouldn’t forget my lines.”

his eyes widened slightly, and for a second, he looked caught, like he hadn’t realized just how obvious he’d been. but then he grinned, leaning in slightly. “like what?”

your heart nearly stopped. was he actually flirting back?

“you know what,” you muttered, turning away, trying to pretend your face wasn’t burning.

jae-won chuckled, but instead of pushing further, he exhaled and straightened. “okay, let’s be serious, one more take.”

the scene required raw emotion, desperation, anger, and heartbreak. and somehow, despite your mutual teasing, when the cameras weren’t rolling, jae-won had a way of locking eyes with you that made it terrifyingly real.

by the time you finished, the room was silent. the tension was so thick you could almost touch it.

“that was… intense,” you breathed out.

jae-won didn’t answer right away. he just looked at you, his gaze flickering to your lips for the briefest second before he shook his head with a soft laugh. “yeah. you’re good.”

did he almost say something else?

you’d never know, because at that exact moment, yim si-wan (one of the senior cast members) poked his head in. “you two still here? wow, the dedication.”

you and jae-won jumped apart like you’d been caught doing something illegal.

si-wan raised an eyebrow. “uh-huh. well, don’t stay too late, lovebirds.”

you spluttered. “we’re not—”

“okay, okay, scene partners.” si-wan winked before leaving.

you risked a glance at jae-won, who simply rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you.

꩜ .ᐟ ————

days later, during a break, you were lounging around with kang ha-neul and lee jin-wook, waiting for the next scene to be set up. the conversation had somehow drifted into embarrassing crush stories.

“oh, I have a good one,” ha-neul said, leaning forward with a smirk. “i once confessed to someone by accident because I was sleep-deprived. full-on I love you situation. worst part? they thought I was joking.”

you laughed. “that’s horrible. imagine confessing by accident. couldn’t be me.”

“you sure?” ha-neul teased. “i feel like that’s exactly how you’d do it.”

“no way.”

“actually…” jae-won’s voice cut in from behind you. “you kinda already did.”

silence.

your entire body went stiff. slowly, you turned to face him. “what?”

jae-won crossed his arms, lips twitching like he was trying not to smirk. “you told me you liked me last night.”

the room erupted.

“omg, y/n?.” Jin-Wook nearly choked on his drink.

ha-neul looked at you like you’d just given him the juiciest gossip of the year. “wait when?!”

your brain short-circuited. “that’s a lie.”

“nope.” jae-won looked far too amused. “you were half-asleep, though. i think you thought I was a dream or something.”

tou groaned, burying your face in your hands as the others howled with laughter. but through your fingers, you peeked at jae-won

his expression was different now, softer, almost… hopeful?

“don’t worry,” he said, just loud enough for only you to hear. ‘‘i like you too.”

you almost stopped breathing.

but before you could say anything, the director called, “alright, back on set!”

jae-won winked at you before walking off, leaving you stunned, blushing, and fully aware that this wasn’t just a crush anymore.

꩜ .ᐟ ————————————————————————

hope you enjoyed it!

(english is not my first language so my apologies for any mistakes i may have made)

[wheelie-sick]

my experience with lupus cerebritis 🧠⚡

I was reading about lupus cerebritis (cerebritis= brain inflammation, lupus cerebritis = brain inflammation caused by lupus) trying to figure out if that's where my stutter could have come from. I stumbled across some stories from people who have experienced lupus cerebritis and it inspired me to try to share my own

a big part of cerebritis is memory loss, short term, long term, everything just vanishes. it feels so normal when it happens. that's a big thing with cerebritis for me. my mental state was very altered, everything that happened felt as if it had always been that way. sometimes I could logically acknowledge that it hadn't been this way, that it was new- sometimes I was bluntly forced into this knowledge over and over and over again as I normalized it in my head. other times my brain justified it in warped ways. I was living in a different reality.

I know that at the time there were gaping holes in my memory, things I shouldn't have forgotten. I remember one thing that stuck out- my graduation. I tried to remember my highschool graduation and I just couldn't wrap my head around it. it was as if it was hidden behind one of those bathroom you can't see but the light comes in windows. I could see the vague blur of what happened but I couldn't grasp it. just out of reach. I regained this memory later, I don't know if all of them came back. that's the problem with memory loss, you don't know what's gone.

this memory loss left some very permanent holes in my memory of that semester of brain inflammation. I am missing a lot. this recounting is going to be inaccurate on account of what's gone and what's warped.

the biggest feature of my cerebritis was psychosis. cerebritis drove me deep into a psychotic break.

it started off gradually, a creeping fog that shrouded the world. I don't remember where it began, I don't think it's possible to put a dot on the timeline and say "here! this is where I became psychotic!" it turned into a nightmare that would result in a failed semester of university. what started with mild delusions that people were following me and that I was on a watchlist turned into hiding under my bed with my blinds closed living off of ramen I had stockpiled because I thought the FBI was staking out my dorm room. I heard whispers coming from the corners of my dorm room. I isolated myself from my friends because I thought they were part of a mind reader society that would kill me if they knew that I knew about mind readers.

anxiety & paranoia are part of cerebritis

my writing ability was heavily affected by both my psychosis and cognitive issues. when writing essays I'd get the feedback that my writing was confusing, hard to follow, and made no sense. I once was one of the top writers in every class but now I was falling behind into last place.

lupus cerebritis is not just psychological and cognitive, though. I had gotten a wheelchair about 5 months before my cerebritis really kicked in. I ended up using it nearly full time, in part because of pain and fatigue caused by my untreated lupus but also because I would have bouts of severe balance & coordination issues. I would have trouble standing, I could not walk to the bathroom down the hallway. my body did not want to move the way I told it to.

eventually I got a diagnosis of lupus and was able to start treatment. after failing the conservative treatments I was put on a biologic. within a week I started returning to reality. my balance issues started to fade, my memory started to return. it took a total of 3 months to truly come down from the flare. it took a while to fully realize what had happened. I wasn't diagnosed with cerebritis when I was initially diagnosed, it took a follow up appointment where I explained what happened to be told that cerebritis was likely the cause.

I still live with some of the effects of my cerebritis and my immune system still loves to go after any part of my nervous system. I still have balance issues, I have peripheral neuropathy and a cranial nerve disorder, I still have brain fog and memory loss. brain inflammation leaves a lasting impact. it doesn't just go away and there's always a risk of it coming back.

reblogs welcome

[atleastpleasetelephone]

This is my first time ever requesting but I was wondering if you could write a story about walter hale x reader. Like reader dancing on stage and he watches from the crowd but gets turned on somehow and his to take care of it but gets caught by the reader and it goes from there. 😍🙏🏻

Just what you need

A/N: Hi there anon! I'm very flattered to be the writer you asked for your first ever request! And I'm always overjoyed to have an excuse to write about Walter and spend some time thinking about that sexy smirk and that white suit... Anyway, I hope this story fits the bill. He got a bit more submissive than I was anticipating...

Pairing: Walter Hale x singer!reader

Word count: 3.8K

TWs: Smut, Walter is a little submissive, borderline a little foot stuff but it's mostly Walter liking her heels. Think that's it!

Walter saunters into the busy tent, looking around lazily. Your voice sounds great and the number of people here to watch you makes him glad he made the booking. He absolutely did it on the strength of your voice… and the length of your legs. They just seemed to go on forever and he thought they should be appreciated by the masses. He’s not a leg man particularly, but when you’d auditioned they were what was on display. Those legs, and your pretty little face. Right now you’re singing something French, and the way the words sound he has the urge to get a little closer. He weaves his way through the people, nodding and smiling at everyone he knows. Which is most people. He always tries to get to know as many people as possible everywhere he goes, being the sociable type but also believing that it’s good for business. He eventually gets to a couple of rows back and now he can see you properly. Your legs are shown off to great effect by the tight sequined dress you’re wearing, and not just that, the plunging neckline reveals you’ve got great tits too. Walter takes a deep drag on his cigar. The way you’re wiggling and singing the French words breathily into the mic is more than a little suggestive. He can feel something stirring below his waist and he rearranges quickly to make sure it’s not obvious. 

You finish the song and look out across the crowd as the applause ripples through it. Your eyes flick across a tent full of strangers and then alight on him. Mr Hale. The undeniably sexy man who booked you to do this job. You’re confident onstage but off it is a very different matter, and the way he’d looked at you had made you stumble over your words and blush deeply. It’s fairly dark in the tent so you can’t see him that well, but you could swear that the tables have been turned and he’s looking a little flushed himself. You bite your lip and start to sing the next song, another sultry number, trying to only look at him every so often to assess the effect you’re having on him. Sliding your hands down the mic stand and then back up again, your eyes flick over to him unbidden, and you see something that looks suspiciously like him fiddling with his belt. You sway your hips back and forth to the music, purring out another verse as one hand moves to your hair, digging into it, your head rolling around with your eyes closed in ecstasy. 

Walter’s brain short-circuits watching you, immediately imagining you on his bed, moaning as you close your eyes and move your head around like that on the pillow. His dick is achingly hard and he realises he can’t stay where he is any longer. Repeating the exercise from earlier, he starts to weave his way out of the crowd, smiling and greeting everyone again, his teeth clamped around his cigar. He has to get back to his tent and relieve himself. This is the most turned on he’s been for a while and he hates to waste it on his own hand, but he doesn’t know you and you’re supposed to be onstage for another half an hour. He can’t wait that long. 

Your eyes open again as you launch into the chorus, and you realise at once that he’s gone. Disappointment hits you like a freight train. You were enjoying winding him up, or at least thinking you were winding him up, and now he’s got… bored? You’re supposed to be onstage for another half an hour but you’re not sure what the point is when the most interested party in your audience has just left. The song finishes and there’s another wave of applause. You smile, the adoration washing over you and buoying you up. Okay, maybe this is the point. 

“Walter!”

Walter stops in his tracks, just outside the tent. He turns towards the owner of the voice, and sees the middle-aged wife of one of the town’s business owners, who he’d spent the best part of an hour chatting up yesterday afternoon. 

“Mrs Everly! How nice to see you again.”

It isn’t nice. It’s a pain in the ass, and one he intends to get away from as quickly as possible. 

The woman moves closer and grips his arm with her hand. “I simply must talk to you about my son.”

Walter tries his best to smile. This is the last thing he wants to talk about, although the previously urgent problem below his belt has now been reduced to a sort of background hum of need, and he reluctantly comes to the realisation that he’s strapped in to this conversation for the foreseeable future. 

“Of course,” he coos. “Lawrence, isn’t it?”

***

You’ve almost forgotten about Walter by the end of your set, people are throwing flowers onstage as they whoop and cheer. This is your biggest crowd by a long chalk and you’re proud of your performance and their response to it. You curtsey as best you can in your tight dress, and then make your way off the stage. As soon as you’re off it your mind drifts back to the man who got you this gig in the first place. You wonder where he is and how you can find him, at least to say thank you for the opportunity. And to see if he’s still blushing, a naughty part of your brain suggests. Okay, so maybe that too. Pulling on a big woollen cardigan to make yourself a little more decent, you wrap it around yourself and walk out of the back of the tent. Someone hands you a celebratory drink and you clink glasses with them cheerfully, wandering around through the Chautauqua, looking into various tents and at the people as they pass you by. You’re still a little giddy from your performance and the glass of fizzy wine is only making things rosier. 

Walter finally extracts himself from the conversation as the roar of the crowd from your tent reaches his ears. So much for not being able to wait. His dick is soft and it’s like his entire body has forgotten you, your long legs and sexy singing. He sighs, tossing the end of the cigar into the grass and crushing it under the heel of his boot. He wonders about trying to find you. You had been a surprising turn on. Adjusting his hat, he turns away from the tent, intending on just going back to his own living quarters again. He’s tired, and starting to think that it would still be easier to just stay on his own. As the years have passed, he’s found it harder to jump from girl to girl as he moves from town to town. He’s not sure why exactly, but the urge to touch himself and not have to answer to anyone else is winning out again. That is, until he takes a step and almost collides head first with you. 

“Oh! I’m sorry!” You exclaim. You hadn’t been looking where you were going, exactly, and you don’t realise who you’ve bumped into until you’ve already apologised. Your face colours quickly. 

“No need to apologise, darlin’.” He grins as he takes you in again, so much closer this time. “Thought ya were fantastic up there.”

Your blush deepens. “Thank you so much. I wanted to find you actually,” you tell him, your bravery growing. “To thank you for taking a chance on me.” Stepping forward, you get up onto your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. It’s his turn to blush a little. Your perfume is intoxicating and your lips are soft. 

As you land back down on your feet you find yourself grabbing his arm for balance. You don’t move back, so you’re incredibly close to him, and you find yourself staring at his handsome face unabashedly. He adjusts his hat again and thinks about the fact that he needs to adjust somewhere else too.

“No problem, darlin’. Ya had a full house in there, so looks like I made the right choice.”

The corners of your mouth twitch, teasingly. “You left before the end, though?”

“Ah,” he pauses, pushing a hand into the pocket of his waistcoat. Wishing he had another cigar right about now. “Have ta keep movin’ about, ya know? Can’t stay in one place playin’ favourites. Even if I do have favourites.” His head tilts to the side a little as he fixes you with a stare that makes you feel like your soul is about to leave your body. 

You step back slightly to allow space for you to lift your glass to your lips and take a sip. You end up draining it, thirstily. When you look back, there’s a slightly smug smile playing on his lips, as if he’s liking the effect he’s had on you. 

“Well I um… I really appreciate you coming at all.”

The smirk grows at your use of the word coming, and you suddenly realise and cover your mouth with your hand, giggling. 

“What’re ya gigglin’ about, darlin’?” He teases as he steps closer to you again, sliding his palm onto your back. You move your hand to his shoulder, almost without realising what you’re doing. 

“N-nothing,” you stutter, reddening again. 

“Oh. Nothin’.” He’s so close now you think he might kiss you, merriment making his eyes sparkle. Then just as suddenly as he’d drawn you towards him he lets you go, stepping away again and surveying the mess he’s made. You’re breathing hard, your face is beautifully flushed and your teeth have captured your lower lip and don’t seem like they want to give it up any time soon. “Let me find ya another drink, seens as ya’ve finished that one.”

You let him take you by the hand, leading you through the crowd as he looks for the nearest bar. There are people everywhere though, and he keeps getting waylaid. In the end he decides to give up on the bar and just take you back to his living quarters, where he knows he has something cold and fizzy, kept for just such an occasion. 

“I hope ya don’t mind,” he explains, as he pushes the door open. “Thought it would be a little easier ta talk here. Not so many people demandin’ my attention.”

You nod and let him lead you to a small sofa on one side of a little dining table. Once he’s got the cork out of the bottle and found some glasses he sits opposite you, pouring two drinks and staring into your eyes again as he clinks the glasses together and declares your performance a roaring success. You take a sip and smile and he takes his hat off and lays it on the table, running a hand through his thick black hair. 

“Hope ya don’t mind me makin’ myself comfortable, honey.”

The bubbles must’ve gone to your head, because you shrug off your cardigan and grin at him, telling him you don’t mind at all. His eyes almost pop out of his head, and he tries to calm himself down by taking off his own jacket. It doesn’t work. 

“You like my dress?” You ask, apparently still fuelled by the high of your performance and a glass and a half of wine. Leaning forward a little, you squeeze your arms against your breasts just enough to make them even more prominent than they were before. 

Walter finishes his glass in one gulp and stands up, moving round to your side of the table and sitting next to you on the couch. 

“I do, honey. I really, really do.”

His hands cup your face and his lips press gently against yours. You respond eagerly, tongue running over his plush, soft lips, begging for entrance to his mouth. He’s tempted to tease you, but his dick has taken over the thinking for him and so he opens his mouth, turning his head so he can explore yours with his tongue, hands never leaving the sides of your face. 

Your fingers reach for him, running up his thighs and starting to undo the buttons on his waistcoat. He pulls back. 

“You’re an eager little thing, ain’tcha?”

His hands move to rub up and down the tops of your arms, and your eyes drift down to his lap, where the outline of his dick is prominent. 

“I’m not the only one who’s eager,” you murmur in response, running a teasing finger over his clothed length. His breath hitches. 

“Well you’re so gorgeous, darlin’... wigglin’ away on the stage like that in this tight little dress…” his hands move to the hem of your dress, and he tries to push it up to your waist but only succeeds in bunching it up a little. “It’s enough to drive a man crazy…” those big, strong hands trail up your body, feeling the way you fill the dress out as he begins to kiss your neck. You can’t hold back a moan. “Though I think I might haveta get ya out of it now, so I can have what I want…”

His lips press kisses to your throat and your hands tangle in his hair in response. You wriggle forwards to let him reach behind you and unzip your dress, his head making its way between your breasts, kissing and nuzzling them as he pulls the dress down your shoulders, exposing your bra to him for the first time. He moves back to look properly and groans. Walter likes tits and yours are nowhere near a disappointment. Your chest is heaving and you try hard to get yourself back under control, standing up and peeling the rest of the dress off and letting it fall to the floor. He groans again, sure his dick is leaking when he sees the little wet patch on your panties. He forces himself to stand up, though he has the strangest urge to drop to his knees at the sight of you. 

“Is this what you want?” You breathe, feeling like there’s electricity in your veins. 

“Mmmm.” He kisses you again, his hands on your face as your fingers work overtime to get his waistcoat and shirt undone.

He pulls the sleeves off over his hands without stopping his exploration of your mouth, his clothes dropping to the floor as he grabs you, pulling you tightly against him. You make out for a while, hands all over each other, desperate for more but trying to enjoy the moment. As he steps back finally, a little breathless, the urge from earlier returns. He decides to indulge it, kneeling before you and sliding his hands onto your thighs, looking up as he mouths you through your already soaked panties. 

“Shit. Walter.”

“Feel good, honey?” He asks, his words buzzing against you. 

You nod dumbly, pleasure teasing you as he keeps licking through your thin little panties, teeth grazing your sensitive spots. You let out a little whine and his fingers loop through the waistband, pulling your underwear down at glacial speed, slowly revealing you to him. He eyes your pussy hungrily, abandoning your panties half way down your thighs. A firm lick to your clit has you whimpering, and he loves the sound. His thumbs hold your lips open as he continues his exploration, tongue lapping at your arousal. 

“Oh God.”

He looks up at your face again, your head thrown back as your hand rakes through your hair. That’s enough to convince him that you’re already close, and he pulls your panties down to your ankles, helping you step one foot out of them and slinging your leg up and over his shoulder. You squeak, your ass making contact with the table as you wobble from the effort of standing on one high-heeled foot. 

He moves his face just far back enough to tell you to hold onto his head and then buries himself between your thighs, his hands gripping the sides of your ass. You do as you’re told, starting off holding on gently, but as soon as you feel his tongue press inside your pussy you forget about handling him with care. You wobble, your leg shaking, and you find yourself falling backwards onto the table. A glass crashes to the floor. He grunts as you pull his hair, your hips bucking up into his face as he dives even deeper into you. One of your hands lets go to slam your palm against the table, so close to release now. Your leg wraps around his head forcing his face against your pussy as you rut against him, starting to whine desperately. He can’t breathe but he doesn’t care, just wanting to get you there. 

Finally your orgasm washes over you, making you clench your hands into fists and curl your toes, crying his name over and over again like a prayer. He thinks it might be the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. 

“Oh God,” you whimper again, as you finally let him go and he rocks back onto his heels, trying to get his breath back. “Are you okay?”

The urgency with which his dick is pressing against his pants is suggesting otherwise, but he just grins and tells you yes. You’re just starting to think about peeling yourself off the uncomfortable table when he stands up and rids himself of the rest of his clothing in record time. 

“Don’t go anywhere, darlin’,” he coos as he rubs his dick against your pussy. 

You barely have time to think, never mind try to go anywhere, before he’s pushing inside you. He’s hung and it hurts but you don’t care. You’re still dizzy from your orgasm, and you feel like you’re floating in space. He puts both of your ankles on his shoulders once he’s bottomed out, watching your face for his cue to move. You’d squeezed your eyes shut as he pushed inside, but they spring open now, full of lust. 

“You okay, darlin’?” He finds himself asking, despite his desperate urge to move, his lips finding your ankle bone and kissing there. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

Starting to thrust slowly, short, deep movements, he grips one calf in each hand. Your mouth falls open in ecstasy. He feels so good inside you don’t think you could speak right now if he begged you to. His eyes skate over your face and your breasts, still cocooned in your pretty lacey bra. 

“Take that off f’me, honey,” he murmurs, nodding at the final item of clothing. 

You struggle to reach behind you on the table, but you manage eventually, unclasping the bra and shrugging it off. He swallows, eyes hooded with lust. He can’t keep this slow pace up anymore, and he pulls almost all the way out to slam inside you with force, his eyes glued to your breasts as they bounce. 

“Oh!” You cry out in surprise. 

He grunts, repeating the movement again and again, feeling his release in the base of his dick now. Turning his head slightly, he licks from half way down your calf to your ankle, changing pace, his thrusts speeding up as he lets his tongue explore below your ankle bone, trailing along the soft leather of your shoe. The whole table shakes with his powerful thrusts, and you see the sweat standing out on his skin, feeling the way it sticks your skin together around the part where you’re joined. 

“Walter!” You can’t think of anything else to say, you don’t even know what you’re trying to convey as the pleasure tips you over the edge into senselessness. 

“Almost there, baby,” he moans, his thumb finding your clit in an attempt to coax another orgasm out of you. 

The feeling jolts you into the room and you find yourself climaxing again, softer and more gentle than the last time, but just as strong. 

“Oh GOD!”

His hands grab the tops of your thighs as your legs bend and fall off his shoulders, and he pulls you quickly towards him as he thrusts again. He pounds your pussy a few more times, and then he’s closer than he’d like to be inside a girl and he pulls out and cums hard and messily all over your belly. He holds the edge of the table for balance as his mind reels from the intensity of the pleasure. As soon as he can manage it, he bends down and rummages around in his clothes for his handkerchief, carefully wiping you clean with it. 

You sit up slowly and look around you, dazed. He smiles at you, taking one of your hands and using it to help you stand up. You groan. 

“Ow. My back…”

He rubs it gently with his other hand. 

“Sorry darlin’. Ya wanna go lie down in a real bed for a while? Let me kiss it better?”

You smile and nod. “I’d love to.”

He leads you through another door into his bedroom, pulling the bedclothes back and gesturing for you to get in first. You step out of your heels and slip between the soft clean sheets, and he gets in with you. He rolls you gently onto your side, facing away from him, and starts to kiss you from the nape of your neck down. You feel like your nerve endings are on fire, and every kiss has you trembling. 

“Mmmm. Walter.”

“Next time we’ll make love in the bed,” he mumbles against your skin. 

“Next time?”

He pauses, dragging his lips back up to your ear and letting you fall onto your back again. Looking down at you, his eyes full of concern. 

“Only if ya want, darlin’.” This might be the first time he’s ever been worried about a girl saying no.

“I’d love to. But… I need to keep singing to make a living and you’ll move on soon too…”

The words come out of his mouth before he has time to think about them. “Why don’tcha join the Chautauqua permanently? Travel with me?”

Your eyes go wide. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Then I’d love to.” 

He smiles, curling his body around yours and laying his head down on your chest. He’s never invited a girl to travel with him before, but something about this just feels right, and he sighs contentedly as he closes his eyes. He’s glad he took a chance on booking you for tonight. You’re just what the Chautauqua needs, and you might be just what he needs, too. 

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy

[plor-bindery]

Bound: Kinkuary ‘23 by wolfpants

Next up in my tour of binds I made for wolf: Kinkuary ‘23 by @wolfpants

When I first reached out to wolf to ask permission to bind their fic, I asked if there was anything in their fic that they wished they had bound. They mentioned their Kinkuary fics but immediately said "oh but that's impractical because it's a whole collection" or something to that effect, which of course I took as a challenge. (Authors, be warned. I will almost certainly bind the thing you say I should not try to bind.)

Anyone who is wisely subscribed to wolf's works on AO3 probably had the same delightful experience as I did throughout February 2023: namely, waking daily to a little notification that there was a small kinky gem awaiting consumption at one's leisure. Wolf writes sex incredibly well: the viscerality and immediacy of it, but also the thoughts and turn-ons and how it lights up each character's brain differently. They have a gift for making me love tropes and kinks I might not ever think to read or write otherwise.

All that being said, I felt slightly weird about being like HERE IS A BOOK OF YOUR KINK THAT SAYS KINK ON THE SPINE so (as wolf has noted) I went all Victorian and made a dust jacket to cover up the bind if wolf ever wants to make it look a lot more innocent than it is.

So many firsts in this one for me: first dust jacket, first index, first collection of fics, first table of contents... It was a blast from start to finish and I learned SO MUCH.

Materials and process chat under the cut.

Materials:

Ye olde wooqu bookcloth off Amazon, HTV vinyl, 24 lb cream letter (wrong grain, forgive me) folios, machine-made endbands, black cardstock end papers.

The dust jacket is probably the only newish thing for me: I did a print using Staples' online service (which probably contributed to my choices because I also use this service for actual work things...) It was a poster print on matte paper.

Process:

This was a pretty straightforward bind but the typeset was full of learning curves. I use InDesign for typesetting and figured out how to set up a TOC and index. Wolf is a GREAT tagger so once I realized I'd either have a seven-page run of front matter listing the tags for each fic, or an index condensing them down, it was a no-brainer. And because wolf is so brilliant with tags, this led to my favorite index entries ever under Draco's listing (see photo.) I also figured out how to use styles to make every story have a header of its title, etc.

The great artwork of Eros is from rawpixel.

The other new thing for me was, of course, the dust jacket. I was disappointed to realize I'd messed up the measurements somehow once I printed, but it was close enough, so I went with it. I tried to rub some beeswax into the cover to help preserve it a bit but not sure it did much. If I were doing it again now, I'd use some Mod Podge matte aerosol fixative.

The dust jacket artwork is from the Smithsonian online collection of vintage seed catalogues. (S/O to my librarian spouse for the tip!) I created the spine matching the style as closely as I could, and then I went to town with silliness for the flaps. (This is probably a downside to having a fic writer also be a binder. I have trouble not writing something when the opportunity presents itself in the course of binding...)

The cover design is, of course, just a whole bunch of cursive X's. I'd hoped to have the title and author be a knockout from that pattern but it proved too hard to weed/read, so I ironed black HTV over the red pattern instead.

This is the only one of the set of four binds that I haven't (yet) bound for myself as a personal copy, but I think I will probably do so at some point! I was running out of black bookcloth at the time, so I prioritized wolf's copy for obvious reasons.

[dixonsdarkelf]

2024 Wrapped

GIF by me, dividers by @anitalenia

I wouldn’t call this a yearly wrap-up as I’ve only been posting since October 1st, but here we are.

Wow, 2024’s been a hell of a year professionally, personally, and on here. I started writing again for the first time since the pre-pandemic days, had my 5-year anniversary with my partner, found myself in this lovely little corner of the fandom & made some new friends along the way. After only writing OC content my whole life, I finally took the leap and started doing x Reader content, and that’s been fun so far. It’s been a wild few months.

No one asked for this part, but I figured I'd give a little bit of an origin story as to how the hell I even ended up here.

I hatched an idea one day, that idea being the existence of my sweet little angel Vec (Lydia Vector). She just popped into my brain one day after having not thought about TWD in ages. Then my brain said “she’s gonna be Daryl’s love interest.” And after not having done any writing in years (I started creative writing when I was 14), I said “well…guess I’m doing this now.” So I began posting on AO3 and Wattpad and eventually made my way over here. And it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

If you found me on here from reading my content on another platform, thank you, and I'm happy to have you here.

When I first started posting on here, I felt like a teeny, tiny drop in a sea full of big names (probably because I was) (I still feel that), and that was intimidating enough to almost make me stop altogether. But I've met some of the best people through this app, and I feel like I finally found a little corner of the internet where I belong.

Shout-outs to the homies:

@francisofthespook you were one of my first followers, and I still remember when I came on one day and saw that you had binged a bunch of my content & how happy that made me. Thank you for suggesting creative content for me to do (like create playlists & the whole NSFW alphabet thing we did). I adore you 💙

@holdmytesseract Maddie, you are such a sunny, bright presence on this app, and I’m beyond honored that I get to call you one of my mutuals. You leave some of the sweetest comments I've ever received, and I’m excited to (hopefully) become friends 🧡

@gothic-pumpkin I can’t express how happy I am that I reached out to you. When I saw we had the same taste in music and men (Norm characters lmao), I knew we would be friends. Our conversations always make my day 🤎

@weirdoneattheparty you are such a light & so kind, friendly, and welcoming to everyone in this space. You're also such icon for those audios you manage to find and make all crispy and clear, I love you for that (and more ofc) 💛

@negansbestie you are truly one of the sweetest and most friendly people I’ve met on this app. You always have the nicest things to say, and seeing you in my activity tab always makes me smile 🤍

And last, but certainly not least, @dixons-sunshine. God, where do I even begin with Krys? She is my favorite writer on this app & was the first person I really admired on here. I remember thinking "damn, if she even looked at something of mine, just once I would feel like the coolest person ever." And then we became mutuals and I thought "it'd be so cool to be friends with her, she seems awesome." Then I made a simple comment, talking about how my OC (Vec) and hers (Georgie) would definitely be besties in an alternate universe, thinking nothing would come of it. And that one comment spiraled into an entire AU and a beautiful friendship. Krys is one of the most down-to-earth, kind, supportive, funny people I've had the pleasure of knowing. It's crazy to me that I can just text you whenever, whether it AU planning or just random life shit. And thank you for showing me how to make cool shit to make my blog look sick and make cool things for our AU. I love you sm 💜

I'm also honored to be getting to know @angelwings-crossbowstrings, @lazyneonrabbitt, @deansapplepie, @dixondystopia, @enlightndone & @shadowcitrine. You're all lovely, and thank you for being such welcoming presences in this little corner of the internet 💚

And of course, our Royal Council, aka our ‘Quarters of the Undead’ readers/taglist people: @kat-herine00 @gothic-pumpkin @weirdoneattheparty @negansbestie @ffsjustletmesleep @holdmytesseract This AU is still in its infancy, and we have so much planned. Thank you for joining us on this journey so early on ❤️

Works I'm most proud of:

Finding Myself, Finding You (the fic that started it all)

Lydia Rae Vector, OC profile (naturally, I'm most proud of my little unhinged baby angel)

Flattery: Daryl Dixon & Fem!Reader (first attempt at x Reader content)

Something Good (first installment in the QOTU AU)

Thank you all for some of the best months of this year. I love you all, and I'm excited to see what happens in 2025 🖤