sweet lord jesus i am not reading whatever is happening in there

mark my words (m)

pairing: reader x sugar daddy!kim namjoon

genre/components: smut, crack, fluff // kim namjoon had money and a taste for sweet little things with the sharpest tongues 

count: 15,548 words

also extended, rewritten, crossposted to ao3 as minjoon

a/n: for anon who requested it months ago im so sorry this took so long but i hope it was worth :^) 

The blinking line on his blank document was laughing at him. He swore it was laughing at him and has been laughing at him for the past half an hour since he sat down and fired up the program. One word, backspace. Three words, backspace. One fucking sentence, he fucking backspaced. He let out a growl of frustration as he pushed back from his desk, rubbing his eyes as if the pain would clear up any part of his brain – preferably the one that didn’t make him sound like a five year old storybook. He might as well have typed “The wife is a sadist who accidentally killed her husband mid-fuck.”

Grabbing his robe, he quickly tugged it on and padded over to the kitchen to pour himself a blistering hot cup of coffee. His answering machine had picked up seven missed calls, probably from his editor cursing him out for missing his calls.

He couldn’t be bothered to listen to any of them or even handle his editor’s desire to tear him a new one when he was so tempted to do it himself. His last book had been published a few months ago. Usually, by the time one was stocked up on the shelves, he’d be working on the next as he cashed in whatever the latest one was making. However, with the last few miserable months, everything he printed looked like a shit stain on a piece of paper. Even his editor, who was down to his last string of patience, thought so.

Things used to come naturally to Namjoon. All the sophisticated whatnot, all the carefully intricate plots that wove themselves onto the blank pages in fabricated fiction. He didn’t know what happened to him. He’s never had a muse except for his own messed-up life so it wasn’t possible that (as what his readers and critics believed at least) his inspiration had evaporated into thin air.

Namjoon perhaps knew what had been happening, what he saw from three books away. But he wasn’t about to fucking admit it because that shit didn’t happen to the genius, versatile writer, Kim Namjoon. Whatever he wrote turned into gold, selling nearly as many copies as the holy Bible. If his jittery nerves wasn’t enough evidence of his problem, then the coffee cup shaking in his earthquake of a hand was. As the realization sank in, he was finally hit with the cold hard truth.

Kim Namjoon had hit writer’s block.

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EXO Tao Scenario (M)

“Tao is usually very shy when you’re around but when you struggle with learning Chinese for your job he offers his help and it gets either fluffy or very smutty? You decide, thank you !”  

Genre : Smutty smut smut o lord (well it gets there in the end)

Word Count: 2,002 (sweet jesus it’s long soZ)

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The Word

I found out the hard way why bringing up your religion in the workplace is a terrible idea. I’m agnostic, but I try to be thoughtful when other people tell me about their beliefs. I know there are a lot of great ideas in the religious texts of the world and I have found inspiration in them from time to time. But, I don’t really suffer from any death anxiety; and I think my morality is firmly rooted in secular humanism, and my good will and cheer is inspired by the hope of collective prosperity through scientific means. I would never begrudge someone their beliefs, especially if it gave them a sense of purpose, or drove them to do good deeds or eased their fear of the unknown. But, when I encounter people who believe exclusively and literally in one version of one sect of a religion, I can have a difficult time containing my disdain.

Which is what happened yesterday. We were having a team meeting. I’m the company’s go-to business-to-business guy. I sell mainly downtown. Rachel, a coworker, is great at winning over smaller and medium size businesses in the satellite neighborhoods of the greater metropolitan area. We’re in the “Bible Belt”, so it helps to share the faith with your clientele. We have these meetings at least once a month. Yes, they’re as horrible as they sound. Our boss is asking us to share “sales-boosting” ideas.

Rachel spoke first. She’s in her mid-forties, as sweet as a peach; would give you her last dollar and the shirt off her back if you needed it. But she always looks a bit dated: the kind of woman who wears long denim skirts and still feathers her bangs. Her only adornment was a tastefully small and subtle gold cross pendant on a gold chain. I could just imagine her knitting Bible cozies at night. She talks about Jesus every chance she gets, and in our neighborhood, it actually benefits her sales.

“Well,” she cooed. “I have found this new way of getting inspired every single night, and, it’s just really helping me out in every part of my life right now, including sales!” She smiled at the group and folded her hands neatly in her lap. “What I do is, I take my Bible, and I find a quiet spot, and I just talk to Jesus and I tell him, you know, ‘Lord, I am needing a pick-me-up right now.’ or ‘Jesus, can you help me with this problem I am having?’ I ask specific questions and then I take my Bible and I close my eyes and I flip through the pages and just put my finger down and read whatever verse my finger lands on. And, you know? The Lord just guides my hand to exactly what it is I need that day. And I have been feeling really blessed.”

Unfortunately, I have this imp inside of me that demands satisfaction and makes me do the wrong thing sometimes. So, as soon as she finished giving voice to this absurd recommendation, I flung my head back and let out a hearty belly laugh, followed by a snort. I tried to compose myself but I sniggered silently in my chair for another minute or two until tears of joy were squeezing through my eyelids. I finally got up and went out into the hallway to compose myself. But I’m pretty sure some of my big, bellowing cackles drifted back into the meeting room.

Once the imp was consoled, I walked back to the conference room and apologized to the group for interrupting. I stole a glance at Rachel and her eyes were red and watery. It killed any lingering amusement. I hadn’t meant to belittle her in front of the group like that. It was shitty of me to laugh at something that made her feel good about herself. I resolved to make it up to her later.

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