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onecanonlife · 4 years ago

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Tommy and Wilbur fell apart a long time ago, and there was never any time to mourn the pieces of what they were.

But here's the most important thing: Tommy doesn't give up on the people he cares about.

(Or: on grieving, graves, a past that refuses to let go, and learning to look forward at long last.)

(word count: 5,619)

--------------------

“You know,” Tommy says, “I never really got to—to mourn you. Not properly, anyway.”

He’s not sure what response he’s expecting from Wilbur. He’s not sure why he’s saying anything at all. He’s not sure why he’s here.

That last one is a lie. He scuffs the ground with his shoe, and then pretends that he didn’t.

“I wasn’t expecting you to mourn me,” Wilbur says, in that stupid, even, condescending tone of his, the one that he uses whenever he thinks Tommy has said something incredibly obvious, when he’s got an idea in his head of how things are and what people mean, regardless of the way it all actually is. “In fact, I rather thought you wouldn’t. Shouldn’t, even.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” He has no patience left. No patience left for the look in Wilbur’s eyes, no patience left for the way he focuses straight ahead, barely sparing him a glance, no patience left for the way he speaks, measured and calculating, every word he says carefully weighed against the end result, curated for intent and impact. No patience, and he had precious little to begin with. “I’m not even—this isn’t about you.”

Wilbur raises an eyebrow. It makes him look like a prick. “Oh?” he says.

“Because I would’ve,” he continues, doggedly. Now that he’s started saying it, he’s damn fucking well going to finish it. “But, y’know, you blew it all up, so we had to rebuild, and then I got exiled” —His voice doesn’t waver at all— “and then shit just kept on happening, so I never got to decide. How I felt. I never got to think about it.”

Wilbur laughs, then, and it’s the laugh that he hates, because it’s the laugh that’s not genuine. He knows what Wilbur sounds like when he’s happy, and this isn’t it. Hasn’t been it for a long time.

“Not sure there’s much to think about, there,” Wilbur says, and he scowls.

“Shut up, you prick,” he says. “And yes there was. That’s not something you get to choose. What I feel.”

“I’m not trying to—” Wilbur starts, but he shakes his head, going back to talk over him, because no, he’s not doing this. Not today, and not here.

“You are though, aren’t you?” he says. “You always do this. You go, you go mimimimi, I’m Wilbur, and I understand everything about how people think and I’m always right and you are all wrong, and you, I dunno, man. You just. You just don’t. You don’t know. You think you know things, but you don’t. You’re not always right. And I’m—I don’t fucking know why I’m bothering with this right now, but it’s not so you can tell me that I shouldn’t be. Because that’s not something that’s up to you.”

“Then why are you bothering with this?” Wilbur says, and his voice isn’t unkind, but it’s not kind, either.

“I just said I didn’t know—”

“Because if you’re asking me if you should mourn me, you already know what I’m going to say to that,” Wilbur says. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s the fucking problem,” he says, and tacks on a quick, “Not like that,” but Wilbur’s face has already hardened, and yeah, there’s a million better ways he could have put that, but that’s the thing about talking to Wilbur. His brain is never firing on all cylinders, as it were, because it’s too busy trying to figure out if he should associate him with warm summer days and the haze of potions and a strummed guitar or explosions and drifting smoke and blank eyes and the awful realization that what he thought would make everything right didn’t do anything at all, and that nothing would ever be right again.

And before the both of them, L’Manberg’s crater stretches out, vines trawling over the edge, leaves sprouting from between the rocks, sunlight catching on the pool at the bottom, the flag fluttering lightly in the wind. Before the both of them, L’Manberg’s crater has grown over, time pressing itself into the cracks. Before the both of them, L’Manberg is a crater. It wasn’t always.

“You make everything so fucking difficult,” he says.

“It’s what I live for,” Wilbur says.

“It’s what you died for, too,” he says.

Wilbur pauses.

“No,” he says. “It wasn’t.” But for once, he doesn’t elaborate, and Tommy glares at him. Only for a moment, because there’s no point in glaring when someone won’t see. Won’t look. Wilbur has his eyes turned to the crater, and Tommy has his eyes turned to Wilbur, and something about that is how it’s always been. The vines have grown over the earth’s old wounds, but Tommy can’t help but feel like they’ve curled around his ankles, holding him to the spot, the moment, and every moment that came before.

I never got to mourn you, he doesn’t say again. I never got to mourn you, and I feel like I should. But you’re here, and what the hell am I supposed to do with that?

Wilbur won’t hear him. And if he does, he won’t understand.

-----

He collects bits of the past like buttons, or stamps, or memories.

He has his discs. He’s hesitant to play them, even now. Hesitant to take them out of his enderchest. He has his home, still in the same spot, all this time later. His hill, his hole, his garden, their bench. He sat on that bench and heard Wilbur, once, reaching out from beyond the grave, and Wilbur told him he was proud, and something in him ached in the same way that his scars now do when it rains.

He has some of Friend’s wool. Just that, just wool, because he doesn’t know how to knit, and he doesn’t know who would teach him. He can sew a little, but it was something born of necessity, of the need to patch up uniforms and close the tears over freshly dealt wounds, and he can still feel the needle pricking into his fingers, again and again and again. He never could figure out how to hold it so that it wouldn’t. He bled for L’Manberg in more ways than one.

Deep inside a chest, he has two uniforms. Blue and red and white. One is a size too small. The other is several sizes too large, and always will be.

He still goes to pray, sometimes, though not as often as he did. He got the chance to meet god and found no one there, so it’s a little tricky, these days, being faithful. But he’ll go to Church Prime, because no one else really does, so he’ll have the whole building for himself as he strides up to ring the bell, to ask for guidance and favors, to pay his homage at the feet of a higher power that he cannot believe cares. On the best days, he’s tempted to try to conduct a service. But there’s no point when there’s no one to hear it but himself. Even he can’t bring himself to put on a show for empty pews.

He prays, and nobody answers, and sometimes he can’t help but remember the void, the tearing, ripping nothingness, raking him to shreds again and again, where he was not alone and yet nobody came.

He considers visiting Tubbo. But Tubbo has his own life, and a mansion he hasn’t moved into, and a town that Tommy does not belong to, and an allegiance that Tommy does not share. He considers visiting Ranboo, but that’s either the same as visiting Tubbo, or it’s the same as visiting Techno and Phil, or it’s the same as visiting Wilbur.

So he looks at his discs and doesn’t play them, bunches his hands in wool that he has no use for, and calls out to a god he can only now offer false homage. He holds to the past, and wishes he could believe he has a future. Wishes that he didn’t see obsidian and curtaining lava whenever he closes his eyes.

-----

The first time he hears Wilbur play again, he hides in the forest like a fucking coward.

The guitar is strummed hesitantly, haltingly, interspersed with silence every few seconds, as if Wilbur is struggling to find the old positions, struggling to move his fingers just right. He wonders, then, if limbo took away his calluses. He didn’t think to look. Thirteen odd years without playing a guitar is bound to make anyone rusty. Tommy wonders if Wilbur’s fingers will bleed if he presses down on the strings hard enough, and then he banishes the thought from his mind, because something in him revolts at the idea of Wilbur bleeding. Of Wilbur trying and trying to play until he—

There is something to be said, here, about using yourself up in the pursuit of something greater. There is something to be said, here, about holding matches ‘til they burn down to the skin, about stairs without handrails, about things that are never meant to be and yet claw their way into existence anyhow. There is something to be said about pushing too far, too quick, and flying too high.

Wilbur’s not singing. Is just going from chord to chord. And Tommy hides behind a tree, pressing his back against the bark, because it has been so very long. Wilbur didn’t play in Pogtopia. Wilbur barely played in L’Manberg. The last time he heard the twang of this instrument was sitting by a campfire, plans for a van in the works, the night sky starry and welcoming above them, his chest warm in a way that had nothing to do with the flames. And Wilbur smiled at them, smiled at all of them, and his voice was light and sure, his notes soaring.

Wilbur’s not singing. After a moment, he starts humming, softly and meandering, and each turn in the melody hits like a wrench, like he’s dragging the notes out behind them, yanking at the tune whenever it goes somewhere he doesn’t like. It’s a lot of leaps and skips and jumps, a lot of highs to lows and then highs again, and something about it sounds like wailing. There are no words, and there is no happiness.

But he’s playing. He’s playing, and does that count for something? There was no music for such a long time, no music in the darkness and no music even in the light, and now there is music in the grey twilight, and it is not happy music but it is music. Wilbur is playing again, and Tommy’s not going to cry, because what kind of pussy cries about hearing a guitar? So he doesn’t cry, but he doesn’t venture out from this spot, either. He stays there, and listens as Wilbur sends his voice shooting up into falsetto and then back down again.

It’s good that there are no words, maybe. They’d be sad. He can tell.

“That sounds nice,” Ranboo says, all of a sudden, and Tommy jolts at the same time that Wilbur’s hand must jerk, a discordant clash of notes, something that can’t even be called a chord. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“You didn’t,” Wilbur says, after a pause. Tommy almost creeps out to see his expression, because he can’t picture it. Can’t tell from his voice what his face is doing. “I was just about done anyway.” There is another pause, and a rustle of clothing. Standing. The crunching of leaves underfoot. It’s nearly autumn again, and already the leaves are changing, falling.

It would be wrong of him to resent Ranboo. He’ll never admit it aloud, but he likes him. Rather a lot. Hiding it is probably pointless now, though that doesn’t stop him from trying. But Ranboo is occupying the space that should be his, that once was his. There is a van in a forest, and a guitar song winding its way through the branches and the roots, and everything is different and everything is the same, and the new story is written without him in it. He doesn’t know what he wants, but he thinks it is not this. He thinks it is not to be left behind.

And Ranboo does not know Wilbur well enough to hear the lie in his voice.

They go off together through the trees. Tommy stays. Runs his hand across the tree bark, and tries not to put his emotions into words. Better to let them drift along as is. Better not to give them voice, because whispers turn into shouts all too easily, and there is not enough space here for shouting.

-----

There’s a thing about graves. There’s a thing about graves and who gets one, and who doesn’t.

He didn’t think about it at the time, the fact that Schlatt—Schlatt the tyrant, Schlatt the enemy, Schlatt the man who had Tubbo executed—got a funeral, and a tomb, has one even to this day, and Wilbur got rubble and a room sealed off and untouched. Didn’t think about the fact that there was no burial. Didn’t think about the fact that there was no gravestone to deface or to ornament with flowers or to kick or to scream at or to kneel beside and speak to or to cry or to do any or all of those things. He didn’t think about it at the time, because there was rebuilding, and then there was a house on fire, and then he doesn’t like to think about it.

And there was Ghostbur.

Wilbur hates Ghostbur. It makes him angry, the way that Wilbur hates Ghostbur. Ghostbur was good, and Ghostbur was kind, and Ghostbur tried his best, and Ghostbur did not deserve to die in the way that he did, terrified, with no one there by his side, with only shouted numbers to soothe his terror, and Ghostbur does not deserve to be stuck in a train station for all of eternity. So he makes Ghostbur a memorial, because it’s all he can do, and the first time he’s next to it at the same time as Wilbur, he meets his eyes squarely. A challenge. A dare. And Wilbur looks right back at him, and then to the gravestone, and his lips curl into a sneer.

And he says nothing at all.

He says nothing at all for a long time. Until he does, and it’s all made so much worse.

“Would you rather he was here, instead of me?” Wilbur asks, and it’s all very even and nonchalant, so much so that it might have him fooled if he didn’t know better, hadn’t heard time and time again exactly what Wilbur thinks of the ghost he left behind him.

“The fuck kind of question is that?” he demands.

“An honest one,” Wilbur answers.

“Right,” he says. “Because you don’t lie anymore, or whatever the fuck.”

“I don’t,” Wilbur agrees, and that is a lie. Tommy would be insulted if he weren’t so tired of it. “Really, I’d like an answer.”

“What does it matter?” he snaps. “He’s not here anymore. He’s not here anymore, and you are. No changing that. I’m fucking stuck with you. You’re like, you’re like a leech, you know that? A leech in my brain.”

Wilbur smiles tightly.

“I’d rather be a leech in your brain than dust in the ground,” he says. “Like he is.”

“Shut up,” he grits out. “Don’t—just don’t fucking talk about him.”

“Alright, then,” Wilbur says. “I won’t. If it upsets you that much.”

And he doesn’t. And the grave stays.

And it is not until later that he thinks about the thing about graves again, about who gets one and who does not. There is no grave with Wilbur’s name on it. There was no soil to lay him to rest, only cold, hard stone, a room undisturbed, a monument to destruction. And had there been time, he would have thought about it more. Would have taken it upon himself, perhaps, because the thing is, in the end, that maybe Wilbur deserved better than to be remembered as the man who destroyed his nation. Deserved better than to be remembered solely by the ravine’s dark corridors and the smoke that clung to him like foreshadowing and the way his eyes looked dead, dead, dead for a long time before Tommy watched Phil plunge the sword into his chest.

Because he was not only that. It hurts to think about, how he was not only that. But sometimes, things that hurt to think about ought to be thought about. Because Wilbur was shattered edges that Tommy knows only now that he could not fix, because Wilbur did not want fixing, but Wilbur was also laughter and a gentle hand on his shoulder and the words “I’m proud of you” that lit him up like sunlight, and he was kind and he was kind of a dick and he was brilliant and Prime, maybe Tommy should have known. Should have known that there was going to be a fall. But he looked up to Wilbur like a child to a shooting star, and it’s a long time before children understand that shooting stars aren’t stars at all, and that the wonder of them comes from self-destruction.

But before Wilbur fell, he shone. A beacon in the dark. Hope, freedom. And before he was those things, too, he was Tommy’s brother. Just that, and nothing more, because more was not needed.

And he received no grave.

It’s a question of time again, and a question of mourning, and a question of how he was ever supposed to grieve when there was no time for it at all, and when a ghost shadowed his every footstep and dripped blue from cold fingers and insisted that nothing was ever wrong. But for the first time, he wonders how Wilbur thinks about it. Graves, and ghosts. And who gets a grave, and who does not.

Who is mourned, and who is not.

Who is given up on, and who is not.

The question echoes once again: “Would you rather he was here, instead of me?” And this time, Tommy hears no taunt in it, no mocking, no cruel joke about the ghost who deserved so much better. Only bitterness, and exhaustion, and resignation. Like Wilbur already knew what answer he would be granted.

That’s a realization of some sort, that Wilbur believes he prefers him dead. It’s a realization of some sort, but he doesn’t know what kind.

There’s ghosts and there’s graves, and there’s the living and there’s the dead, and both are left waiting for relief that never comes. It’s thirteen years in a train station and it’s months without knowing what to think, without having space to breathe, without being able to process that his brother was unwell and then that his brother was gone. It’s too much time and too little, too much distance and too little, and Ghostbur did not deserve what he got, but neither, he thinks, did Wilbur.

That thought feels right. And wrong all at once. Bitter, heart-wrenching. That Wilbur deserved better. They all did, that he knows—but Wilbur did too. And that thought is muddled up in all the rest, and he doesn’t know what to do with it, but it’s there. If there’s anything to be done with it at all.

-----

Here is a fact: he kept Dream alive for Wilbur’s sake.

Here is another fact: he doesn’t know if he regrets it.

Because here is the thing: he remembers that day, remembers the pain and the fear and the devastation, and he remembers the moment it all turned around, cowering behind Sapnap and behind Eret until the time came to step forward, to take the axe in hand and deliver the blow, to deliver himself to safety, finally, finally. And he remembers the words bitten out from Dream’s mouth, panicked, desperate, and he remembers what he said. He will never forget.

And the decision, in that moment, was far easier than it had any right to be.

It became harder, later. Because he made the decision thinking, in large part, of the person that Wilbur used to be. Of a quick, charming tongue and flashes of smiles and music and song and leadership and knowing what to do, always, and Prime above but Tommy missed that person. And so maybe he deluded himself. Maybe he thought, in that dark room, with the portal swirling behind him and the entire server at his back, that he could get that person again. That Wilbur would return, and that it could all go back to the way it used to be. Discs spinning in the sunrise, the server at peace, his brother with him.

But death put those thoughts to rest.

Because death proved to him that Wilbur had only gotten worse. Because in death, Wilbur was happy he was there, did nothing but talk to him and make him play competitive solitaire as he was torn apart atom by atom. Because Wilbur—he became so very certain that Wilbur, if released, would bring nothing but harm to the server again, would tear everything down, because there was something in his voice, in his eyes—

But that was then. And now, Dream still lives in prison, rots but lives, and Wilbur has a burger van in a forest with a friend and spends most of his days lounging about or making eyes at Quackity or talking up a storm but doing jack shit, and Tommy doesn’t know what to make of it, and doesn’t know how to admit that maybe his idea of what Wilbur would be like and what Wilbur would do wasn’t entirely accurate.

And he still doesn’t know if it was worth it. Worth the constant fear, worth knowing that one day, Dream will be out, will come to him, will try to finish what he started. He tried to prevent it and only made it worse, only led Ghostbur to his doom by his innocent, trusting hand, and Dream resurrected—

A monster, he would have said, once. He no longer knows if that is fair.

Because here is another fact, one that he is only now beginning to understand: Wilbur is very, painfully human. He’s always known, and yet he hasn’t, because once, he thought Wilbur hung the stars and the moon and all things bright and glowing and good, and he thought that Wilbur could never be so human as to be fallible, and then it turned out that he was wrong. And it was easy, in the aftermath of that, to figure that Wilbur was perhaps some kind of monster instead, and everyone around him said as much.

But that, he thinks, goes too far in the other direction.

His hopes will never be realized. He will never have the old Wilbur back. He clings to a past that clings to him right back, that has him in a chokehold and will not let go, but Wilbur is something else entirely. The rest of the past does not live and breathe, is contained in his overflowing chests, in uniforms that don’t fit him, in the church’s empty hall. The rest of the past is made of things he can hold, but he has never been able to hold Wilbur. Not then, and not now. And there is no hope of making of them what they once were.

There is no going back.

So was it worth it, then? To keep Dream alive, and to receive this, this man who varies between manic energy and calculated calm, who speaks with a whip in his tone at some times and unbearable softness at others, who proclaims Dream his hero and then claims he would have killed him, if he could, for what he did? Was it worth it, and is it worth it, and how is something like that measured at all?

Wilbur is a tightness in his chest when he speaks and a ghost that won’t leave and a ghost that died and a thousand words like a thousand stinging hornets and no picture that could encompass all of them, all of what they are and were. Wilbur is Wilbur, and Wilbur is not safe, not anymore, and perhaps Wilbur is not even good—but there, that, that is wrong, and he won’t make this mistake twice. Wilbur is good, it’s just that he’s forgotten that, and Tommy is so, so very tired of having to be the one to try and remind him. And Wilbur is empty space and Wilbur is a space too full and overflowing around the fractured edges, and Wilbur is too bright and too loud and too quiet and too little and too much, and even now, even still, Tommy does not know where they stand.

Was it worth it, to have this?

He doesn’t know. But sometimes, he imagines what it would be like if Wilbur were still dead, if Wilbur were never, ever coming back in any shape, in any form, and his throat closes up and his eyes sting, no matter how much he has laid out his hatred for the man, his regret at going into the prison that day. He tries to imagine a world without Wilbur in it, in which he has given up on Wilbur, and even now he doesn’t like it, even though maybe he should, and that is, perhaps, answer enough.

-----

“Why do you keep coming here?” Wilbur asks him.

“I dunno,” he says, instead of a hundred other things. “Why don’t you ever fucking leave?”

Wilbur just looks tired. There are bags under his eyes. Tommy thinks he can guess why; he so rarely slept during their exile, but Tommy is thinking about limbo, and train stations, and how whenever he closes his eyes, part of him is convinced that his heart has stopped beating. He wonders if Wilbur, for all his sunrise-obsession and constant movement and moments of utter wonderment at the world around him and the way he doesn’t move whenever a creeper approaches him, feels the same way.

“There was a reason I asked Ranboo to do this with me instead of you,” Wilbur says, suddenly, apropos of nothing. Tommy feels himself still. “I mean—actually, I asked Phil, and Phil was all, oh, Wil, go and make friends, and I was like fuck you I’m not twelve years old anymore but Ranboo’s pretty great so it worked out. But I—I guess what I’m getting at is that I don’t get it. Why you choose to keep coming ‘round here anyway.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “What’s not to get?”

Wilbur shoots him a look, eyebrows going up and mouth slanting all sympathetic-like.

“Tommy,” he says, slowly, as if talking to the child that Tommy has not been in a long, long time, “I’m not what you want.”

Several answers form in his head, and then dissipate just as quickly before he’s able to reply. “‘S that right?” he says, and something boils within him, hot and snapping and popping.

“I can see it when you look at me, man,” Wilbur says, and he doesn’t even sound upset. “You’re—and I mean, I don’t blame you for it. I was awful to you, Tommy. I don’t deserve anything less than your scorn. But you and everyone else, you’re all waiting for what I’m going to do next. You’re all waiting with bated breath. Scared of the next disaster I’m going to cause. So you don’t—you don’t have to be here, Tommy. Not if you don’t want to be.”

There are so many things he could say. Your disasters always cause the most damage to yourself, is one of them, and then there’s a simple, you think I don’t know that? Because how many times has he told himself that same thing? That he doesn’t need to be here? That it would be better for him if he wasn’t? And some part of him must listen, because he’s not actually here all that much. He has other things to do. A life outside of this, outside of this forest on the edge of a fake desert and a van that makes pretty shitty burgers and one Wilbur Soot, like a portrait from the past and yet nothing like that at all, because portraits are shadows, still images, permanent and unchanging, with mo mutable future, and Wilbur Soot is none of those things.

He has a life. He has Tubbo, still, even if it’s all changed. He has others. He’s not alone.

Wilbur’s right that he doesn’t have to be here.

“Stop fucking doing that,” he says. “Stop trying to make my decisions for me.”

Wilbur’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m not—”

“You are,” he says. “You always are. It’s my fucking choice whether I want to be here or not. And I’m making that choice. Not you. Me. And sure, maybe one day you’ll manage to get rid of me for good, but you’re gonna have to fucking work at it, and I don’t see you trying.”

“I thought you didn’t want me here, Tommy,” Wilbur returns, and the words seem to fall so effortlessly, like easy acceptance, and why, why is it this of all things that Wilbur seems to take in stride? Why is it this and not a thousand other things? Why is it this and not the fact that despite it all, despite every warning sign and every indication that maybe it might be better for him to give up after all, Tommy is still here?

“I didn’t want you gone, either,” he snaps, and Wilbur falls completely silent. So he continues, because who knows when he’ll have a chance to say this again? That’s the thing about chances; they’re difficult to count, impossible to anticipate, and he bollocksed up the first one he got, to try to break through. “I never wanted you gone in the first place. So maybe I don’t—maybe I don’t fucking know what I want. Because I never got to just live with that. There was never a chance to—there wasn’t even a fucking grave for me to visit. I never got to figure anything out, and now you’re back and nothing’s the fucking same, so maybe I don’t know what I fucking want. Maybe I don’t fucking know if I want you here, but I didn’t want you gone. I didn’t want you to be dead. And then you were. You just were, and I couldn’t—did you expect me to be alright with that?”

It’s a question of mourning, and a question of graves, and a question of chances and who deserves them. And Wilbur just looks confused.

Fuck him.

There’s so much more to say, and he can’t say any of it at all, and the past chokes him like a knot of vines or a clump of flowers in his throat, but he’s still breathing. He’s still breathing, breathes again, whatever, and Wilbur is the same. They’re the same in a lot of ways, maybe. On the other side of the final death, trying to hold onto and release the years gone by all at once. Moving forward, but stuck in quicksand, and they’re never going to get out if they don’t let each other.

“You’re my brother,” he says, and that’s all. As if that explains everything.

And maybe it does.

Wilbur blinks.

“Ah,” he says.

“Yeah,” Tommy says. “Fucking ah.”

“I’m sorry,” Wilbur says.

“You’d better be,” he says.

And impossibly, the vines uncurl, and the flowers come floating up, and when he takes a step forward, it comes easily.

There is a van in this forest, and it is not the same van. Some distance away, there is a crater in the ground, and nature has draped itself over the ruins of the lives they once had, and the flag still flaps at the bottom, and they are never, ever going to be able to rebuild what they lost. The crater will always be a crater, a scar in the earth. Healing, healed, grown over and stitched shut, but still a scar.

And there is a man standing in front of him who is not the same man that he knew. Not the same man that he claimed for his family, and who claimed him in return.

But he is not the same, either. Perhaps nobody and nothing is. The past clings, and he clings tighter, but perhaps he needs to loosen his grip, because despite everything, there is a future out there, somewhere past the next sunrise. They are going to get older. They are going to live. So he has his discs and his uniforms and his wool and his prayer, and he has this, too, because it is his choice. To take a step forward, and wait to be met in the middle. To dare to turn ahead, to believe that there is something awaiting him. The both of them.

And he thinks he might finally be able to let himself grieve. Grieve, and let go. Grieve the dead, and what they had, and what they might have, and grieve for the fact that there was no grieving, no grave.

And then, let himself hope that they will have better after all.

-----

The next time he hears Wilbur play, he steps out from behind the tree.

And maybe the song is a little less sad.

And maybe nothing will ever be the same as it used to be.

And maybe it will be alright.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #crimebois #/rp #dsmp fic #cat writes fic #long post #sometimes you just. you just gotta write some c!crimebois y'know?

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literaticat · 4 years ago

Note

On the topic of that agent who complained but after hours query mails (or any agents who do): as a global business, I am super suprised they don't expect this to happen often due to time zones!

The thing is - there are two people who complained and caused mini-viral twitter moments. One was a pill - the other one had a legit reason to complain, IMO, and I'll give some backstory.

So the one last week was a tweet quoting an agent who was griping about "authors need to send queries during work hours". Ridic, IMO, and that agent seemed to just be a crab. I answered this some posts back but REALLY -- I truly don't know any other agents who would complain about this -- like, he needs to join the 21st Century. Agents who are good at managing their email or who have dedicated query manager inboxes and such don't even KNOW when you send -- and we certainly don't CARE. Authors should NOT worry that we are sitting around being jerks about this, we are well aware of time zones and the fact that most authors have actual jobs and families and whatnot. I have gotten queries on Christmas Day or in the dead of night, or whenever, and I have no problem with that. I get to them when I get to them.

IT GOES BOTH WAYS, THOUGH: I assume that most AUTHORS realize that AGENTS are reading queries on off hours, on weekends, on holidays, right? Like, literally most agents do not have time to get deep on the query inbox during regular work hours. And so, we might send requests or REJECTIONS at any of those times. I have certainly had people complain online -- VERY vociferously -- because I sent a rejection over a holiday weekend. (So much so that I now stress about it... like "oh dang, does Arbor Day count as a holiday? Is somebody going to come at me because I rejected them during Purim? Ahhhh)

POINT BEING: Don't worry about the querying agents thing, IMO.

However, the one from a few months back was a very different complaint, that has nothing to do with authors. In that case, it was an EDITOR who was complaining that an AGENT sent a submission after hours on the Friday of a holiday weekend.

This is a legitimate complaint, for the record. Sorry, but yeah. Agents are professional email-senders. A huge part of our job is making sure that our clients have the best chance possible for success -- that means that, in my experience, we have scrupulous etiquette surrounding the submission process.

These submissions are NOT going to some query in-box to be dealt with in the order received - they are emails going straight to editors themselves without a buffer. Therefore, we want editors to know that we value their time - that we are NOT shotgunning submissions at random, but that we have specifically curated what we are sending them. If editors respect us and believe we are sending them great projects for a good reason, they will continue wanting to open our emails. If editors think we are rude schmucks who send things willy-nilly, they will not want to open our emails. You know?

Part of that respect for editors also includes respecting the fact that weekends, holidays, and the middle of the night are time off. It's one thing to send a response to a quick question or something like that over the weekend or at night - sure, we all check emails on our phones, and it's fine if you just fire off a response or non-urgent inquiry without regard to time because it can be looked at whenever -- it's also fine if something IS time-sensitive and really just needs to be answered ASAP because it's truly urgent -- but a SUBMISSION?

Sorry, but in my opinion, SUBMISSIONS are a big freakin deal and should be treated as such. It takes me several solid days of work (or if I don't have SOLID days to dedicate to it, then those hours spread over a couple of weeks) -- to hone a submission, make a sublist, craft the letter, strategize how and when to send, etc -- it's something on which I spend a great deal of time and care, and I would not throw that away by being sloppy about the email.

If I am prepping submissions after hours or on weekends, I schedule to send during work hours. If I am sending to the UK or another country, I absolutely try to send or schedule to send during THEIR work hours.

If I was an author and I found out my agent was shotgunning my query to random editors after hours on a holiday weekend with no regard to how that would be perceived, I would be PISSED. This is not how you treat important client work.

It later came out that not only this, but also the agent in question is an ACTUAL schmagent -- like the type of person who routinely does not follow best practices at all and is an actively bad apple. And this type of email is Classic Them, and actually part of what makes them a schmagent.

#schmagents #queryetiquette

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joheunsaram · 4 years ago

Text

In Plain Sight (knj)

Summary- After weeks of preparation and stress, you believed you were ready for the opening night of your restaurant. However, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of your ex waiting for you.

word count- 2k

pairing- idol!Namjoon x chef!Reader (feat. bff!Seokjin, brother!Jungkook)

rating- PG

genre- angst, exes to (maybe) lovers

warnings- none to note, Namjoon eats mincho

a.n- Happy birthday to my bae, Beezy @hobeemin! I hope you had the best day and that this isn’t too late haha. I know you requested this for my March drabbles but I got carried away. Here’s some angst to heal your soul!

A huge shout out to @casuallyimagining and @missgarnet for beta reading! 💕

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

You sighed in relief as the first customers of the night started pouring in. This was it. This was what you had been working towards for the past ten years. After years of culinary school, slaving away as a sous chef and begging investors, tonight was the night that you unveiled your new restaurant.

You ran your clammy hands over your pants as you greeted your guests, the most radiant smile on your face, before checking in with the kitchen. Even before the grand opening, the fact that one of your investors was the beloved chef Baek Jong-won, had people excited about your restaurant. It had put a lot of pressure on you, but watching your head chef prepare the kitchen for the dinner rush calmed your nerves. It was comforting being in the back, the clatter of pans and shouts of commands made you feel at home.

“Checking up on me already, boss?” Seokjin asked, chuckling as he draped a towel over his shoulder. In addition to being your head chef, Seokjin was also your best friend, supporting you over the years to make your dream come true.

“Can never be too sure, what with your habit of getting distracted by your reflection,” you joked, earning a scowl and a whack from Seokjin’s towel. Pushing him back, you laughed as he yelled at you for almost killing him, his dramatics at an all time high, probably the same nerves churning through him as you.

Where the kitchen was chaotic, the front of the house was almost serene, a low rumble of conversation offset by a soft jazz playlist you had spent hours curating. Your nerves dissipated as the first orders arrived, the customers smiling and nodding at the first taste.

Moving behind the bar, you checked on Jungkook, your younger brother and bartender. No one would have ever thought the two of you would end up working together, given the fights you had all through your childhood, the scar of one of them permanently etched on his cheekbone.

“Did you invite him?” He asked as he shook a drink, the ice rattling obnoxiously in the metal container.

“Who?” You asked, your nose scrunching at the aggressive way he made the drink. You swore if he broke another glass you were going to take it out of his paycheck, shared gene pool or not.

“Namjoon,” he whispered theatrically, using his eyes to point towards the corner of the room. The sound of his name set you on edge, your heart in your throat.

You hadn’t thought of your ex for over two years, since the night he walked out on you and you vowed to never let anyone take control of your happiness and leave you broken on a whim. However, that didn’t stop you from following your brother’s eyeline to the more secluded tables of your restaurant.

He looked different. So different that it cracked the carefully constructed armour around you, a frown etching onto your features as you took him in. Dressed head to toe in black, you wouldn’t have noticed him if it weren’t for Jungkook.

He looked out of place, anxious, as he drummed his fingers on the menu, staring at it intently. The hood of his oversized jacket was atop his head concealing his dyed blonde hair, and his black mask was pulled low on his chin, leaving his bare face on display as if his new album wasn’t currently at number one.

He was biting his lip, his brows scrunched together and it sent you back to two years ago, the memories flooding your brain as the ache you’d worked endlessly to ignore reared its ugly head once again.

“We should break up,” Namjoon said, his lower lip between his teeth, as he stood in the doorway. He was still dressed in his outfit from the shoot he had returned from; a shiny silver bomber jacket adorned atop a plain black outfit, his makeup still on perfectly. It gave him an ethereal look, all flaws hidden from view as he looked at you in your striped blue pyjamas, hair up in a messy bun, face puffy from sleep.

His words felt like you had been hit with ice water, like you were skating on a frozen river and it gave way from under you plunging you into a panicked cold that felt akin to a burn. You didn’t know how long he watched you, your face neutral after you demanded an explanation.

“It’s not fair to you, Berry,” he said, voice soft and broken as he finally made his way to the bed. He sat as far away from you as he could and the distance seemed to stretch on for miles. You were confused by his sudden change. Just yesterday he had arrived home with smiles and cuddled into you immediately, just as he had done for the past three years, but today you were hard pressed to find that warmth, his gaze never meeting yours.

“You don’t get to decide what’s fair to me,” you stated. “We are not breaking up.” Decision made, you slipped the cover over yourself as you reclined back into your supine position.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he muttered, almost silently but the quiet of the room gave him away, his distraught weaving itself in your skull.

“Juniper, let’s talk about this,” you pleaded, a hand reaching to grab onto his that he shrugged off.

“No. If we talk about this you will convince me to stay and I just can’t do this anymore.”

“What did I do?” Your voice was soft, as if you spoke any louder it would startle the seemingly broken man in front of you.

“It’s not you, it’s me,” he spoke the cliche, his dimples making an appearance in the sad smile he gave in your direction. You didn’t understand what was happening. Namjoon was a man of many words, slinging together poetry out of thin air in seconds, inspired by the mundane. He continued, talking over your thoughts, as he explained the reasons he was hurting you, the reasons he was a bad partner. All reasons that you have never even conceived - a product of his overthinking, anxious mind. Every time you would argue, he would counter with his own failings, like how he couldn’t make it to your culinary school graduation and how his fame made him unavailable to go to whenever you needed him.

Namjoon cried, inconsolable even when you tried to assure him that his failings were in his imagination, that you were happy, content. But he had a notoriously one-track mind, and the only conclusion he could come to was that he couldn’t bear to be with you any more.

“Seeing you always waiting for me breaks my heart,” he whispered as he held you, your face in his hands as he smiled for your benefit. You didn’t know how to convince him otherwise, but the way he kissed you, tasting of salt and regret, you knew it would be the last time he would do so.

When he left that night, you finally cried, mourning a relationship that he snatched away from you, before the tears turned to rage, heartbreak manifested into indignation.

“Are you going to talk to him?” Jungkook broke you out of your reverie just before you could further relive the sorrow.

“No. Absolutely not. He can enjoy his solo dinner,” you replied, turning on your heels to go into your office, your excitement for the night overshadowed by Namjoon’s sudden reappearance. It wasn’t bad enough that you had to see him in your restaurant but as you turned on a random playlist fate decided that you would hear him too as he talked about your break up on his new single. His sultry vocals rapped about his self loathing and need to please only to realize that he left the only person who loved him for himself. You were bitter that he had this epiphany, bitter that he was monetizing on something that was as much your heartbreak as his.

But what Namjoon wants, Namjoon gets, and as the dinner rush ended and the crowd dwindled with last call, he was still sitting in the corner table, sequestered away from eyes as he played with his dessert. He must have known that the chocolate bon bons were inspired by him, dubbed Juniper like you had called him all those years, and extra mint added just to spite him. The same way he had named his new song Back to Berry, an homage to no one else but you.

When he refused to leave even after Jungkook asked, you had no choice but to act civil and make your way towards him. He gasped as you unceremoniously settled in the chair in front of him, eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost. As if he had not been waiting three hours for this exact moment

“What are you doing, Namjoon?” You asked, arms folded across your chest as you glared at the face you once thought you couldn’t live without.

“I’m eating dessert,” he answered, averting your hardened gaze to poke his fork at the food.

“We’re closing,” you said, your hand waving to your wait staff that had started clearing tables and sweeping the floors. “And you hate mint chocolate,” you added as he took a bite.

“It was calling my name,” he chuckled humourlessly, before he sighed pushing the plate away. He finally met your eyes then, a soft smile on his face, his dimples poking their way from his cheeks into your heart. “Congratulations. You did it.”

“Yeah. Alone.” You were bitter. He had left you, practically ghosted you for two years and now he thought it was okay to waltz back in?

“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping all pretenses as his hand reached towards you. “I’m so sorry, Berry.”

The use of his old nickname for you broke your heart and your facade as you looked at his hand placed directly in front of you on the table, a finger slowly caressing your forearm, almost out of reach. You couldn’t help the way your eyes glistened at his touch, tender and apprehensive. How could he think it was okay to come here? How could you think you wouldn’t forgive him if he asked?

In that moment all you wanted was to run back into his arms, kiss him, delve back into that chaotically beautiful brain of his, but your pride was stronger than all the apologies in the world.

“It’s too late,” you said as you stood up, his head dropping as he retracted his hand back into his lap. “We’re closed. Goodbye, Juniper.” You gestured to the door, waiting for him to collect his bag, watching as he dropped much more money than his bill on the table before he made his way to the door.

Turning around he looked at you, catching you staring at him with tear streaked cheeks. “I’m not going to give up, Berry”

“You never do, do you?”

“Never when it comes to you,” he said, covering his face with his mask and adjusting the hood atop his head before disappearing into the quiet street.

That night you felt your defences weaken a little when you got a message from an unknown number.

I forgot to tell you. I still miss you. Even after 708 days.

taglist: @cheesecakes-randomshitz, @aroseforyoongi, @awhnamjoon, @agustdjoon, @codeinebelle

I hope you enjoyed the angst! For more fics of mine check out my masterlist

#namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #rm fluff #rm angst #rm x reader #bts fanfic #bts #thebtswritersclub #houseofddaeng #thetruthuntoldnet #bangtanuniversity #purplearmynet #ficswithluv #namjoon fanfic #rm fanfic

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alreadyblondenow · 5 years ago

Text

In favor of Chicago

nurse student!Johnny x art student!reader // SMUT, FLUFF, angst? Summary: Dating your ex’s best friend turned out to be a life changing chapter of your life... and you two can’t have sex because he thinks he has STD. Word count: 11k Warnings: Mentions of STD, swearing, explicit mature themes, unprotected sex, back to back cheating, oral, sending of sex tape without consent. Note: This is just a fic, purely from my imagination.

The library was packed when you decided to work on your Claude Monet paper that you have to hand to Mr. Moon before you head home. Picking a spot where a lot of students sitting and getting stunned by your presence was a huge distraction to you and hearing them gossip about your love life was way beyond disturbing. So the word is out. Not that you cared, but your attention span is really short. Being popular in college was not actually bad, but at times like this you just want to be a no one.

You’re in deep concentration with your paper and you’re five paragraphs away from finishing it. Taking a short break to check your phone and update your boyfriend that you’re almost done and you will go straight home after you hand this to your professor.

Jaehyun: So now you’re fucking my best friend? Real classy, y/n.

Jaehyun: How did this happened?

Jaehyun: Where are you? We need to talk.

Last time you check Jaehyun is not talking to you but now that the word is already out he suddenly cares. The breakup you had with Jaehyun was actually peaceful no fighting or shouting just pure talking and a lot of crying. Jaehyun is not the person you’re expecting to message you right now, you haven’t talked to each other since the night he broke up with you. So what if the popular girl is dating the university’s fuckboy? Is Johnny not allowed to finally settle in with someone?

Speaking of the devil, when you were headed to the faculty Johnny called you. You figure maybe he’s done with his shift at the university hospital.

“Hello” you answered your phone with a sweet smile that too bad Johnny won’t see.

“Hey, just calling to check if you’re okay. You know, everyone is going crazy about finding out about our relationship” through the phone you hear him open his locker, you’re right his shift is over.

“Well, they’re eight months late. Johnny were not hiding, I think everyone was just not looking enough... until now” you giggle through the phone and he couldn’t agree more.

“Okay okay, I’ll see you at your place. Just need to do something here at the hospital, will not take long but you go home safe, okay?” You answered a sweet “okay” still walking and smiling all by yourself like a crazy person.

“I love you my future art curator”

“I love you too my future nurse”

As you went home safely and take a hot shower before Johnny comes, you were brushing your teeth when the door opens and you finally see your sleepless boyfriend. For the first time today. He wraps his arms around your waist letting you finish brushing your teeth in peace. His chin rests comfortably on top of your shoulders, hearing him let go deep and heavy sigh.

For a normal person a sigh may be a sign of ’tiredness’ but for Johnny, it means he’s finally with you and he’s really happy to be with you now, watching you brush your teeth.

“I brought you your favorite Chinese takeout” he said as you two walk towards your small kitchen kissing him with your minty lips. Seeing the bag of takeout on the kitchen counter already making your place smell like freshly cooked stir fry, “yum, baby! Oh I’ve been craving”

After dinner you and Johnny are cuddled up in the middle of your bed. His giant figure does not fit in your small bed but he loves sleeping beside you. Sleeping beside you is like having sex with you but without actually having sex.

“Good night” he said softly, but it doesn’t really mean he’s going to sleep. It means, ‘close your eyes and relax while I make you feel good until you pass out’. You feel his hand creep around your stomach, lifting you sleepwear up to expose your boobs. Soon his lips touch yours, kissing you like how he loves you, feeling smiles in between kisses. As you lay on your back comfortably and Johnny kissing you down until you’re buried under the soft pillows, his big hands continues to cup your boobs, pinch your nipples and brushing his thumb on it because it’s your favorite thing.

“Why don’t you tell me about your day? I’ll listen” he said pulling away from your lips so you could talk. Johnny starts to kiss your jaw down to your neck until the valley between your boobs. You feel wild, open mouth kisses around your upper body hands are playing with your boobs, sliding on your sides, soothing your tummy as he goes down. You try to construct your sentence as you start telling him about your day.

“I’m d-down with my last few papers…” he’s taking time kissing your lower abdomen before removing your thin shorts and panties. “just a few more research papers and professor Moon will write me a recommendation paper for the intern- fuck, Johnny” it became harder for you to talk when he finally stick his thumb on your wet clothed pussy, slowly removing the fabric down to your legs, spreading it wide and blow cold air on your pussy lips. You shiver at what Johnny did and tried to close your legs but he’s quick to stop it.

“Baby, continue” Johnny demands before devouring your pussy finally.

You can’t stop moving your hips once his tongue touched your pussy. The way his tongue glides up and down your pussy just tells you how wet you are and horny for Johnny. “If the company liked my portfolio, I’ll land an internship there and there will be a big possibility that they will absorb me- hmmm!” pushing your hips to his mouth to feel more of his tongue, imagining that it’s his cock he’s fucking you with.

“Oh-baby, mind spreading my pussy lips?” you know it’s a request Johnny can’t refuse, and so he did. Spreading your pussy lips with both of his hands, licking your cunt up and down fast and hitting that nerve. Johnny is proud how well he’s making you feel good, listening to your moans and watching you between your legs with eyes closed, lips parted and gasping loudly.

You don’t know what to do with your hands by this time. Touch Johnny’s soft hair and push his head more against your cunt? Cup your boobs and touch yourself? Grip the sheets?

Yes.

Grip the sheets. That way you wont hurt Johnny or yourself with those long nails of yours. Throwing yourself on edge, Johnny gave your slit long slow licks from bottom to your clit, both if his hands still holding your pussy lips. Pushing your hips off the bed to feel more, rolling your hips fast on Johnny’s tongue hitting his mouth, using it completely to go off.

He knew you reached your sweet climax when your legs are shivering and you’re gripping the pillows tightly, moaning and grunting softly. You feel your body warm and sweaty and to be honest, you can’t feel your legs. Still breathing heavily and catching your breath, you feel Johnny clean the mess between your thighs, got you a clean pair of panties, rolled down your sleepwear and covered you with the thick sheets.

“How I wish we could really have sex” you know it’s the wrong thing to mention but you just can’t help it. It’s not fair that Johnny fucked almost half of the population of pretty girls at the university and now that he’s your boyfriend he can’t have sex with you… “At least I don’t have to worry about getting you knocked up” he jokes but deep inside you know he’s hurting. As you two lay in bed tired and still horny, you finished the night like how you two usually do. Kiss. Finish the night with dirty and filthy smooches.

Eight or nine months ago, just when you and Johnny are getting started with your blooming relationship he admitted that he’s not sure if he’s clean. “Well why don’t you get tested?” you asked worriedly propping your elbow on the mattress and facing him. “I’m scared of the results. I-I’m not yet ready, you know? What if I have it, or or worst-“ Johnny sounded scared, sad and angry all at the same time.

“What if you’re not? Baby, I’m not forcing you but I’m telling you it’s the right thing to do.” And that scares Johnny the most, when you tell him to go take the test but he had to refuse.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I really can’t do it. I feel fine, healthy, and as long as I can breathe, walk and study, I will not take the test. Not until I’m ready. I can’t let it ruin my future” he finished explaining and closed his eyes, bringing his hand in the middle of his forehead and gently massage it.

From there on, you don’t question him why. But you do tell him to go take the test without sounding like you’re forcing him to do something he’s not ready to do. Instead, you both enjoyed the relationship you had. Sex free and full of love. Though you two can be filthy at times, but most of the time your intimacy comes in different shapes and sizes.

And that fuckboy reputation? Completely gone.

You knew what you signed up for. You expect Johnny to cheat and find different women in his apartment whenever you visit, getting yourself ready for multiple heartbreaks and never ending forgiveness. But no, the boy was completely loyal to you and it’s almost too good to be true. Johnny has been fucking around since his freshman days, showing off different girls night after night, and not taking nursing school seriously. It’s a miracle how he managed to keep his GPA. “I always envy Jaehyun. I always want to have someone like you, I think I just got lucky to have exactly who I want”

The relationship you two built is like no other. It’s like you’re both facing adulthood together and finding a way to make life easier with the help of each other. Being a senior in college means you’ll have a hectic schedule before you finally graduate.

For Johnny, that’s being an intern at the university hospital and taking shifts there until he’s qualified to transfer to another hospital. For you, you’re taking up classes and finishing a few papers and wait for The Art Institute of Chicago take you as an intern. It was never easy but the you have Johnny and he has you.

You believe that Johnny is the man you’re marrying someday and you’re willing to take care of your relationship with him whatever it takes. Johnny thinks the same way, over the past few years he’s been watching you and Jaehyun love each other wildly. And now that he has you, he will not fuck it up. “I didn’t stole you from Jaehyun, right?”

You giggle at his question thinking how someone like him is actually worried from stealing you from your ex. “No, Johnny. We broke up months ago when you came back from Chicago. I remember telling you the story though-“

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Just checking again”

As the world watches you two have a peaceful relationship, a lot of people try so hard to ruin what you two got. You’ve been getting a lot of messages and stories about how different girls fucked Johnny already, telling you that he’s probably cheating right now at this very second. But again, you knew Johnny better than anyone else because you are his first love and he only opened his heart for you. Besides, those bitches got nothing on you.

While different girls try to ruin Johnny’s image for you, a specific someone tries to ruin your image for Johnny. Your ex, Jaehyun. But just like you, Johnny knew better than losing his shit for Jaehyun.

Days and weeks went on like this and stress just keeps getting the best out of you and Johnny. You’re busy writing hundred pages long for a specific artist, and Johnny is busy with hospital duties. Which is making him crazy without his coping mechanism and stress relief that is usually sex. And he knew all too well that he can’t have sex with you even if he use a condom.

One night he found you sleeping soundly on your bed and he was completely exhausted because of overtime and he really needs you right now. He kissed you softly until you wake up, your eyes were really tired from facing your computer the whole day but you understand that Johnny is home, so you need to wake up. “I missed you” he whispers softly, feeling soft touches around your thighs. Lips still on Johnny’s and you’re not planning to pull away any minute, “can’t make you eat me tonight baby, you’re dead tired” you said with a hoarse voice, it surprised you when he shook his head. Telling you to be quiet, he gently removed your shorts and panties and giving your pussy a peck.

You watch him put his middle finger in his mouth as he sucks it while looking into your eyes making you feel shy and exposed that your legs are widely spread in front of him and your cunt is waiting to be touched. But it’s Johnny you don’t need to be shy.

He insert his middle finger inside your tight cunt a little rough. Pulling it and out from you, making you crazy and moan loudly. “close your eyes” he said with the most sexiest voice ever. Your mind goes to every scenario possible. Ice play? Overstimulation? Fucking you with a dildo?

Feeling excited as you wait for him to make his move, you don’t know but he’s unbuckling his belt, removing his pants and pumping his cock. Hesitating to fuck you raw and making an unreasonable decision to have sex with you tonight.

“This will feel good baby, I promise”

His hands are both on the sides of your head, taking advantage of your closed eyes. Your heart is thumping loud you swear you can hear it. Smiling wildly feeling Johnny’s kisses on your neck until you feel the tip of his cock lining at your entrance.

Everything happened so fast. You pushed him way to hard like he was some kind of rapist. Immediately feeling the guilt and regret that you let yourself open your legs wide for him. Wearing your panties again and putting back your thin shorts, feeling angry at the man you love and you don’t know what to do with him.

Johnny is apologising over and over and over again but you don’t listen to him. You don’t hate him of course, you’re just… scared and worried for yourself because this is the first time Johnny became like this.

“I’ll pretend this never happened Johnny. I’ll sleep on the couch, you need to sleep well tonight”

How do you expect him to sleep like a baby after what’s happened? On the next day, he felt like shit and even more guilty when he found out you already left for your morning classes. He made it to the hospital without any sleep and rest, and it was a tough day at the hospital.

“Well you look like shit” His friend Karen gave him another cup of cheap coffee from the vending machine because she thought Johnny needed it. “Rough night?” she added, keeping Johnny’s attention to her.

“Tell me about it. Fucking newbies don’t know what to do most of the time, can you believe that shit” he let it out really annoyed and tired, drank the coffee in one down. It wasn’t really hot, it’s always like that that’s why it’s cheap.

Karen is an intern from another university, a younger nurse than Johnny. If he’s single and if he doesn’t have you, he will definitely fuck Karen at the nurse lounge. And he can’t believe he’s thinking about banging his co-intern after what happened last night.

“I get you. Being a junior in this hospital fucking stresses me out, I’ve never been to a hospital so stressful. I mean for an intern like me? It’s too much, don’t you think?” she sighs, “I need sex, lots of sex”

Johnny almost choke when he heard what she said, he can’t believe they’re thinking the same thing. ’Sex.’

“Now that I let that out of my chest, do you… uhm” she scratched her neck being awkward about the situation she singlehandedly made. “Want to have sex…with me? I heard you’re like uhm, popular here because of… you know. Definitely no strings attached just pure adult stress release”

Being from another school definitely made her miss the memo that Johnny is with the most popular girl in campus, running valedictorian, and basically his future wife. The saddest part is, Johnny thought he’s completely a changed man and that no other temptation can make him turn his back around and dive into hooking up with other girls. It makes him sad that he’s about to do it.

The two hit it off at the empty nurse lounge at the other building’s basement. Since they’re both familiar with how the hospital works, they’re sure know no one will catch them there.

In the middle of pounding Karen and Johnny’s balls deep inside her, it felt really good now that he’s fucking someone again. Imagining that it’s you he’s fucking feeling the guilt even more. “Why didn’t we did this a little sooner?” Karen was moaning uncontrollably, muffling her screams whenever Johnny tells her to be quiet and give her ass a juicy slap.

“Feels good, fuck. You aren’t a virgin right? But fuck it feels like a virgin’s hole” his hands are on her hips watching how her massive boobs bounce up and down right in front of him. Thumbing Karens clit, pushing her on edge careful not to release at the condom yet. He pulls out immediately and licks her cunt until she cums. Letting her shiver on top of the hospital bed with no sheets. He slams back inside her again, making her cum using his cock giving her the full experience of being fucked by Johnny.

“It’s good that we fit… You know that?” he grunts while fucking her with a steady pace letting Karen moan his name loudly until he cums finally.

Feeling guilty and shy as hell, he cleans himself and went outside the room letting Karen make herself presentable again.

While Johnny is inside someone’s pussy and having the time of his life, you on the other hand who is completely clueless, is thinking about making him dinner and tell him the good news that you finally got the internship in Chicago.

“You leave in two weeks” you remember Mr. Moon telling you the great news. Calling every person that actually cares for you and telling them the big news, screaming and shouting on the phone excitedly as you walk back to your apartment. Still wondering why Johnny haven’t answered his phone.

You put on some classical music to calm your excited nerves, making Johnny his favorite dish and trying to finish everything up before he arrives. Opening a glass of wine and drinking it while you cook, thinking how you more than deserved this.

“Hi, babe! Right on time, I have good news” you welcomed him with kisses at the hallway and walked him towards the dinning room. “But first let’s eat dinner while the food is hot”

All throughout the dinner you noticed Johnny’s mood. Maybe he’s tired? You can’t take the silence anymore so you asked what’s wrong, hoping that it’s nothing serious. Did he finally take the test? It’s making you anxious every second that passes. He’s not looking to you in the eye, he’s not touching his food but he already had three glasses of wine.

“I had sex with someone. Today, at the hospital”

EIGHT MONTHS AGO

Before your last semester as a junior in college ends, Jaehyun decided to breakup with you. “I just don’t see my future anymore with you, Y/n” his exact words. After being together since high school and almost half of your college years, putting up with every bullshit he gave you for the last six years now he’s finally letting you go. Thankfully the breakup was nothing but peaceful and there were no shouting or cursing at each other. But it was painful for you.

This is your first summer without Jaehyun and theres no better way to heal from a breakup by getting yourself busy. You’ve been working on your portfolio day and night and you think it’s better than just watching a sad Netflix movie. There’s no way that you’re not going to land your future job in Chicago right after graduation so you worked your ass off.

Today you need to mail a physical copy of your portfolio and went to the post office alone to your surprise you saw a certain someone. Johnny Seo, Jaehyun’s best friend. Looking a little different from the last time you saw him.

“It’s great to see you...in a post office” he said and you both laughed awkwardly. He noticed your well wrapped thick portfolio and figured things out from there. He quickly received what he was going to get and helped you mail out your item.

“How are things with Jaehyun? I heard he quit being a dj for the school radio when I went home to Chicago. The fool didn’t want any partner but me” he said as he walks with you not knowing where to go.

You figured he wasn’t around when Jaehyun broke up with you so he missed the news. “We broke up, two or three months ago, I think” trying not to look so hurt by what you said, you avoid eye contact and looked at your shoes as you both continue to walk. He apologised for what he said and for being insensitive but you told him it’s fine, he was away that time so you understand him.

“Well, you don’t look fine. Can I buy you ice cream?” it was a leap of faith for Johnny to ask you to spend some time with him and he was hoping you would really give him a chance.

“Is this the part where you ask me out and ask me to sleep with you because I’m not with Jae anymore?” heart beats really fast because of what you just said. You didn’t mean to be bold and straightforward but knowing about his fuckboy reputation in campus just makes you put your guard up.

Now that you’re not with Jaehyun anymore you figure maybe you don’t have the immunity from being added to the list of the girls he fucked already.

“No y/n, I’m simply being nice to you. And if I want to fuck you I’d tell you ‘let’s get out of here so we can have sex’ but I didn’t right?”

You feel ashamed for what kind of behaviour you showed him but Johnny is nice enough to still buy you ice cream. At the the end of the day you had a great time eating ice cream with him and talked about random stuff. Maybe you’re exaggerating a little but you feel alive again after for so long.

Way back when you and Jaehyun are together, you only see Johnny when you’re looking for Jaehyun at the dorm or whenever Jaehyun is way too drunk to walk, Johnny is the person to call. They’ve been friends since they were freshmen and just building their own selves through college. Jaehyun is the university’s star athlete and sexy chef while Johnny is the known hot fuckboy from the nursing department. Everyone is crazy about them especially when they started to dj at the university’s radio. Their ratings were high because people simply can’t get enough of their handsomeness.

Ever since Jaehyun introduced you to Johnny, he always tells you how sometimes Johnny looked at you like you were some type of meal that he’s been craving for. “You don’t know him like I do, babe. Just promise me to avoid him even if he’s being nice, even if he’s my best bud.”

But now that you’ve been hanging out a lot with Johnny you see him as a warm person. Nice enough to help you land a good internship once senior year starts, a family guy who loves his parents so much, and gentleman enough to sneak in your room using your opened window while you’re sleeping.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday happy birthday... happy birthday to you”

In your dark room, you heard him singing you happy birthday just when the clock strikes twelve. Johnny is holding a small cupcake with one lit candle, smiling so sweetly to you as he waits for you to make a wish and blow the candle.

No one has ever surprised you in such a way and you didn’t expect that Johnny will be the first. “How did you even get in?” whispering and careful not to be heard by your parents you asked Johnny and he points to you the opened window as his answer.

It’s weird how things move so fast for you and Johnny but slow enough to achieve what you both had in mind. You think it’s too early for Johnny to put his arm around you while walking outside the neighbourhood, incredibly close to each other but you let him. You don’t know why you let him sneak in your room almost every night and spend the night with him just laying on your bed talking softly and giggling like little kids.

Not wanting him to leave yet, you invite him to lay with you in bed. Letting him slide under covers and keep you warm. It’s obvious that you two like each other but no one is taking advantage of that but today’s your birthday, being selfish for once won’t ruin your ‘friendship’ with Johnny.

“Can I kiss you?” You blurted out.

“Can I kiss you?” He repeats your question, emphasis on the ‘I’ and you nod your head as your answer. “Happy birthday” he added before kissing you again sweetly, putting you on top of him. Enjoying how his lips are finally touching yours, enjoying the happiness you’re feeling after being trapped to someone for so long.

As senior year starts you spend almost every second and every minute with Johnny now that you move out from Jaehyun’s apartment and have your own. Johnny didn’t move in with you but he basically lives with you because he can’t stand not being with you with every time he’s got free time. No one knows how senior year will eat up the time you two should be together and Johnny came prepared for that.

“Let me live with you here but not really live, live… get it? I can take care of you, I’m going to be your private nurse, I will do the laundry, I will give you pleasure” he kissed the knuckles of your right hand, “I will be your boyfriend. I will show you how a proper boyfriend should treat his girlfriend. Once we’re both interns in Chicago, I promise you… we’ll stay at our house”

“That’s a lot of promises Johnny Seo. Chill, you can live with me. Let’s take care of each other, you don’t need to do everything”

“How did I get so lucky!” he’s squeezing you with a tight hug on the couch, bodies closer as usual.

And you did took care of each other. Whenever you feel sick, tired, or worn out, Johnny is always present. Him being a nurse is actually good for someone who gets sick a lot. You made him be a better person, helping him study more for nursing exams and helping him maintain his GPA.

Playing house isn’t the term, but you two helped each other whenever someone is struggling financially. If Johnny is short for his tuition money, you don’t hesitate to cover for it.

“Do you want to stop studying? In the middle of fucking senior year?”

“No” Johnny accepts defeat.

“Then shut up and take my money, come on I’ll pay with you”

And if you’re the one who’s short for rent money, Johnny got you covered. He doesn’t tell it to you but you found out that he’s been paying for your rent fee whenever you’re behind.

“Do you want to live in my small apartment? With Ten?”

“No” This time it’s you who accepts defeat.

“Thought so too. You don’t want to live with two filthy nurses right? So I already took care of the rent baby, you don’t have to worry about it”

EIGHT MONTHS AFTER / PRESENT TIME

“This is it then? You’re breaking up with me?”

“No. Johnny I’m not breaking up with you. All I’m asking is some space, let me think about staying in this relationship. Let me think about what you did. I’m trying my best to convince myself not to leave you, so please just give me some space”

“Baby, please. It doesn’t mean anything”

“Sure it doesn’t but what if I do the same thing to you?” your tone was a little loud this time, every second this conversation grew you, your frustrations grew double. “You will be heartbroken just like me right now. I don’t know if Im fooling myself for thinking that maybe you’re the one for me, now I’m asking space so I can make sure that I still want you to be part of my life”

Johnny was speechless when you walked out in front of him. He wanted to ran to you and beg for more but he needs to get back to the hospital.

It’s been a painful three days for the both of you. Neither one of you functions well. You’re a wreck, he’s a wreck. And truth be told you both can’t afford a breakup right now because it might affect your work performance. At least that’s how you feel about the breakup, you don’t know about Johnny.

During the nights you were sleeping alone, you remember how you and Johnny dance and drink beer in the middle of a bar that has a live band. And no one would care if you two were just enjoying your own little world. Walking around campus hand in hand while he’s eating his sandwich in his hospital scrubs and you’re holding a book and reading about more artists. It doesn’t matter if no one is talking, what matters most is that you’re together.

Sure he’s just some guy but he’s been a part of you already. And what Johnny did ruined your relationship. You’re crying right now because you’re madly, deeply in love with him and what he did is like putting a knife straight to your heart and you don’t know what to do about it.

The night before you leave for Chicago, Johnny went to your apartment after his long hour shift. You can see that he’s tired and sleepless but he still chose to go to your apartment, “I’ll help you pack” he said weakly heading towards to your closet and folded your clothes. It’s not that you’re letting him help you, you don’t have the energy to argue further with him.

It was dead quiet. Something has never happened in this apartment of your whenever Johnny is around. The air feels heavy and you want him to leave now after he zips your luggage. “Listen, uhm- I maybe can’t drive you to the airport tomorrow. I have an early shift-“

“It’s okay. I can handle everything by myself” You’re still not looking at him, crossing your arms waiting for him to head out. At this point, why are you still surprise that Johnny can’t drop you off.

“Okay. Uh… Can I hug you?” he was hopeful you can see it in his eyes. You want to grant his request but that’s not how space works.

“Good night Johnny, you know the way out. Get some sleep.”

On the next day, it’s a good thing that you’re excited and you don’t feel sad and bad for yourself. This is the only thing that you have full control with, your future. After everything you did to get where you are right now, you can say that you’re proud of yourself. You’re excited to work, meet Mr. Choi and have the time of your life.

“Chicago is great, Mr. Choi and the company gave me an amazing apartment. And the people at work are so nice, not to mention the Museum! Ugh! The museum is beautiful, Wendy! You should go visit here” since you don’t have Johnny to tell all these stories, you pour them all to your best friend, Wendy.

“That’s great! Hey, listen…” she clears her throat, “Have you talked to Johnny lately?”

“N-no, why would I?”

“I don’t know y/n? He’s been asking me every week about you and he looks like shit, though I heard he nailed that internship there… In Chicago. So you know, prepare yourself?”

“Thanks for the heads up Wendy. It’s okay, tell him I’m fine and I’m doing great here” After you hung up on Wendy, theres a familiar figure that’s looking for old LP records and you decided to take a closer look. Before you could even get closer, the man turned around and saw you.

“Y/n!”

Jung fucking Jaehyun. Looking so handsome as always. Just like the firs time you met him, but now he has brown hair. “What are you doing here in Chicago?” you asked him, staring like a statue and you didn’t know you have the brightest smile flashing in front of him.

“I’m an intern here. You know cooking meals for some famous people, I’m actually here for about three months already I’ll go back to campus in a matter of weeks. Wait for graduation when I get back, how about you?”

“I just got here a week ago, I finally got the internship at The Art Institute”

With Jung Jaehyun’s presence you suddenly felt home again. You’re happy that he’s finishing his internship here and he’s going to have his own restaurant when he graduates. Jaehyun was excited to tell you all of his plans for himself and for his business. You on the other hand, thought that maybe breaking up wasn’t so bad.

He invited you to his place and told you he’ll make you dinner, “come one, just like old times” he winks at you and put an arm over your shoulder.

You watch Jaehyun cook in his small but decent kitchen, and you got to admit you miss watching him cook his heart out for you. It’s only been a few months since you two broke up and you can’t believe he has changed so much.

“Try this, it’s hot though” he put he fork right in front of your mouth and gave you a mouthful of pasta. “Hmm! Jaehyun, it’s good” he chuckles at your reaction, watching you eat the past with some garlic bread.

“I only hear you moan like that in bed” he said, smiling at you and teasing you like you two never broke up in the first place. Playfully you smack his arm and continue eating.

The night went on and on of you two talking about your past. After one casserole of pasta and three bottles of wine, you’re now laying on the couch with Jaehyun in between his legs with a small blanket on your leg.

“You sure Johnny won’t mind of you being here?” you feel the vibrations of his voice against your back whenever he talks.

“He wouldn’t dare. Were kind of not together now. He slept with someone from the hospital before we could even, do it.”

“So you never had sex? That’s a shocker, I used to think you two fuck like rabbits”

“Jaehyun you’re disgusting” as much as it disgust you, it made you giggle and laugh, “Johnny thinks he’s not clean, he can’t have sex with me. He’s scared to be tested”

You don’t see it but Jaehyun is really disappointed with Johnny. “I may be an asshole to you, but I never cheated” Jaehyun says proudly, reaching for his glass of wine and drinking it in one down. Hugging you from behind and keeping you close to him, you can smell his familiar perfume. Something you haven’t smell for some time now but you still know it’s Jaehyun’s.

“Do you miss it? The sex?” he broke the comfortable silence.

“Of course. You know me Jae, sex was like a big part of our relationship. But that was us. Me and Johnny were okay even though we don’t get to have sex, but yeah sometimes I miss it. And maybe Johnny missed it a little too much”

After having great dinner at his apartment, Jaehyun brought you to your apartment safe and sound. Inviting you again for the next day, “I could stop by at the museum and we’ll go grocery shopping” it wasn’t a bad idea, you’re sucker for good a great company and Jaehyun is the perfect person for that. Before Jaehyun fly back home, you two spent time with each other. He brought you to he restaurant, you brought him to the museum.

Jaehyun is the one doing Johnny’s promises to you.

Four days before Jaehyun leaves, is supposed to be the date of your seventh year anniversary. “Let’s celebrate it, no ones going to die if we celebrate it” Jaehyun said through the phone, inviting you to his place again tonight, to celebrate. It’s not a good idea of course but it will be just good food, wine and a lot of talking.

Or so you thought. The whole dinner time Jaehyun was flirting with you and you’ve been rolling your eyes over and over again for the past three hours.

You’re looking at his LP collection while you listen closely to the music he played. Standing in front of the record player reading the track list and sipping wine. You feel Jaehyun put your hair on the other side of your neck and kiss your exposed shoulders. Soft lips on your skin, hands caressing your shoulders, you miss this feeling.

“Were both single and were not looking for relationship. We both want the same thing, right” his voice is deep whenever he wants something from you. You nod at what he said quickly turning you around to face him. Kissing you without a warning, tasting the expensive wine that still lingers on your lips.

Leaving the record play beautifully as you two walk towards his room, leaving a trail of your discarded clothes on floor and reaching the bed already fully naked. He kissed your neck, whispering how much he missed you, kissing your jaw down to your boobs cupping them and kneading as he goes back to your lips again to tell you, “you always have the prettiest nipples”

Suddenly, you remember Johnny.

You watch him lick your nipples, left and right. Pinching it softly and gently careful not to hurt you and eventually sucking it until it’s both swollen. “Does Johnny knows your nipples turns pink after an hour of just sucking it and playing with it?” you just listen to Jaehyun as he do what he pleases.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever been with, I’m an idiot for leaving you” he went down to your exposed sex, kissing it softly but not making you sensitive. You feel him kiss your upper thighs, slowly putting his tongue out when he reaches your pussy lips. “I bet Johnny gave you a lot of oral,” you nod your head weakly watching him smile in between your legs, “I’ll make you wet and fuck you the whole night, something he can’t do” it breaks your heart hearing those words.

Jaehyun spits on your cunt and kept it wet and ready for his cock, playing with your hole for some time so you won’t get hurt. When you finally saw him pump his cock and line it to your entrance, you’re tempted for a second to make him stop so you closed your legs.

“We’ve done this a thousand time y/n, it’s just me” Jaehyun made sure to make you calm and remind you that this is just sex, “this wont mean anything” he added.

With one smooth thrust, Jaehyun is inside you. And after for so long you’re having sex again with the same man who fucked you for the past six years. You put your legs around his waist, keeping him close to you as he thrust in and out. “Happy anniversary” he teases while giving you hard thrusts that makes you grunt and your boobs bounce. Chest to chest and forehead to forhead, Jaehyun is fucking you good. Moaning his name as you enjoy the feeling that you’ve been missing for the last couple of months.

“I was hurt when I found out about you and Johnny” he gave you hard piercing thrust. One by one, putting his anger on his thrust remembering how it hurt when he knew about you and Johnny. “I didn’t broke up with you so he could have you, no no” he’s giving you the same thrust hearing him breath heavily. You on the other hand is taking it all, the hurt and stretch of his cock, the impact of his thrust, his bites on your shoulder, everything.

You and Jaehyun fucked again and again that night. Kissing your body to sleep on his cozy apartment, and doing the same thing the moment he wakes up. “Good morning beautiful, what do you want for breakfast?” he kisses you body all over until he finally sees your sweet smile and morning glow, “and don’t tell me you want me for breakfast. Please you worn me out last night” he added, kissing your lips and smiling at you.

Poking his dimples before you tell him what you want for breakfast, he catches your finger and playfully bites it. “I’m fine with pancakes and strawberries, with lots of syrup and freshly brewed coffee”

“Okay. Now get your sexy ass in the shower, I’ll make us breakfast” he kissed you one last time before he heads to the kitchen.

When Jaehyun heard you’re busy inside the bathroom, he messaged Johnny. Sending him a video of you and him, having sex last night. Feeling so accomplished that this time Johnny will feel double the hurt Jaehyun felt when he found out about your relationship. Soon after he flipped a couple of pancakes, Johnny replied to his message.

Johnny: At least delete the fucking video, I don’t need to watch it.

Jaehyun: Meet me at the café near campus tomorrow night. We need to talk.

“Hey chef, the pancake is ready to be flipped” you came out of nowhere and Jaehyun was quick to put away his phone. Giving you his innocent dimpled smile, “here you go” drizzling the syrup on top of the pancakes watching Jaehyun put some confectioners’ sugar. You had a peaceful breakfast with Jaehyun before he could leave and catch his flight back.

“Jae, just so you know… I still love Johnny. I will take of the consequences just please, don’t tell what happened- I’m ashamed”

It’s too late for that now, Jaehyun kissed your forehead and promised you not to meddle. Even though he already did, just like you he will face the consequences by himself.

Johnny on the other hand feels so broken. You’re right, it hurts like hell. He didn’t need to watch the video but it was a wake up call for him. He’s tired of just sitting back and watching you slowly fade in his life. If he wanted to prove something to you, he knows exactly what he needs to do.

“Hey Ten, I need you to do me favor- fuck, I don’t how to do this but, I need to get tested today. Before I fly to Chicago in a week, I need to finally do it. I’m losing her”

Ten is Johnny’s best friend, he pulled some strings at the hospital to make the test and the results private. Johnny is a famous man and every person who knew him will lose their shit if they found out about the STD testing.

Jaehyun and Johnny met at the café as planned. The tension between the two men grew worst when Jaehyun told Johnny that he’s been sleeping with you for a week even though that part is not true and that you two celebrated your seventh year anniversary.

“I came here for y/n, not to listen about your little play house with her” Johnny let out a big sigh and sipped on his coffee, “she needs you there and as much as it hurts me, I’m thankful you guys met there”

Jaehyun was lost, but surprised that Johnny is not using his fists anymore to settle things like how he used to. “She loved you more than she could ever love me, and dude you fucking wasted it. Even though you fucking cheated, she still loves you like crazy.”

“I’m well aware of my mistakes Jaehyun, that’s why I’m making things right from now on. Funny how I used to fuck every girl just for fun but now that I want to have sex with someone I love, I can’t.”

“Why didn’t you just use a condom?”

“Are you stupid? The fact that I’m doubting if i’m clean is not safe for her already. She doesn’t deserve that”

“And the girl you cheated with deserved shit? Oh come on Johnny-“

“She got tested and it’s negative so you could shut the fuck up now Jaehyun”

“Okay okay. Now it’s time for me to talk” Jaehyun clears his throat and looked at Johnny straight in his eyes, “I’m getting her back. And once I do that, I will treat her right”

“I doubt that Jaehyun. She loves me”

Jaehyun’s threat scared the shit out of Johnny if he’s being honest. And putting up a straight face in front of Jaehyun was hard, Johnny knew he is capable of getting you back. The fact that you two slept together again is a good sighn for Jaehyun already, and Johnny is scared to the bone right now. He took the earliest flight to Chicago after a week and he will find you and do everything just to win you back.

It’s a busy day for you and tonight you can impress your boss and show him what you’ve got. The Art Institute of Chicago will held a public screening by morning until after and a private screening on the evening. You mentally cheer for yourself as you read notes and guidelines for today’s event, nervous but you’re sure as hell you can do it.

Just as you’re finished for the first part of your work, your high heels is killing you right now so you decided to get out of the crowd and rest your feet some place quieter. As you stretch your feet and grunt for a few times, you saw someone standing in front of Claud Monet’s Water Lilies.

“Good evening sir, unfortunately this is a private screening-“

“Oh sorry, I didn’t know that. But I do know someone special to me that Claude Monet is her favorite artist. She scans her father’s books and she found countless of pictures of Monet’s landscape works, and she tries to copy it. That’s how you started to love art.”

You told him that story on one of those peaceful nights back in your room before senior year even starts. Not expecting him to remember that stupid story of you decided you wanted to pursue art. That was the first time you opened up to Johnny and told him more personal stuff about you.

“h-hi, I really didn’t know that this is a private screening. I just wanted to see you, watch you work from a far and talk when your work is done”

“No, it’s fine. Though I should get back, sorry” you walk away from him and try to hurry back to the event but suddenly you felt like crying. You love Johnny with all your heart but the relationship you had right now is complicated and you want to fix it so bad but you don’t know how to. With big steps and not minding your tortured feet, you came back to Johnny and hugged him. “I’ll be right back baby. This won’t take long”

Johnny didn’t want to let you go, he just wanted to hug you and keep you close. He kissed your forehead and watched you walk away from him with tears on your eyes and a big smile. Mouthing him that you’ll be back.

After a long day at the art institute and in Johnny’s case having a long flight, you two entered your apartment with lips never leaving each other. “I miss you so much” Johnny said in between kisses, keeping you close to him.

You feel him unbutton your shirt but you stopped him. Breathing heavily as you pull away from him and hold his hand down, “lets talk, yeah? I have to tell you something” you walk towards the kitchen and made you two coffee first. Johnny grew silent waiting for you to talk, completely clueless that you’re having a hard time constructing your sentence.

“Is this about Jaehyun?”

You stopped what you’re doing and turned to face him, “how did you-“

“We talked, man to man. And I want you to know that it hurt me but, I don’t care. I’m crazy in love about you y/n, I know you are too. And right now what we have is complicated but look where we are right now? We fucked up because were not perfect, lust is lust and we both learned that the hard way” it hurts Johnny to watch you cry in front of him but he can’t move his legs. Like you he’s overwhelmed and full of emotions, he wanted to give you some air. “I bet you were thinking about me when you two did it, because I did when I did it when Karen”

You nod without hesitating, reaching in for him because you feel weak and Johnny catches you with a tight hug. “I’m sorry baby, I started this that’s why I’m fixing it. If you want me get on my knees and apologise I will do it, just to win back” he said with a hoarse voice, whimpering like a child. It almost didn’t sound like Johnny because you see him as this tough guy but now he’s just vulnerable.

“What are you talking about, I’m the who messed up big time. I’m sorry too can you give me another chance?” tears fall down to your face and it’s getting hard to talk because of your heavy crying. But Johnny was giggling in front of you admiring how cute you are right now. Giving you a soft kiss that tastes salty because of tears.

There’s a saying that sometimes we have to kiss the wrong man to know what’s right. In your case, you have to fall hard and fucked up so bad to realise that you want to be with Johnny forever. What you and Johnny had was real and you learned it the hard way.

Of course it was not that easy to start again but one thing is for sure, you’re crazy about each other and you love each other deeply. Setting boundaries and fixing the mess you two made was the hardest part of it. Johnny took care of Karen already and the girl says sorry, you scoff at that thought, “If I see her around the campus, I’m gonna slap the shit out of her” you told Johnny with all your might knowing perfectly well what you’re capable of. He was happy you’re back at being his protective girlfriend.

“Speaking of violence, I might kill Jaehyun if that’s the case baby” he scoffed and pour himself another cup of coffee. Johnny wouldn’t dare ruin your relationship with Jaehyun just because you slept with him, he wanted you to take care of it yourself without him meddling.

“yeah well, no shit” you yawn in front of him, “don’t you have hospital duty?” he shook his head and put your mug on the sink. He stood in between your legs and carried you using his strength, keeping your legs around his waist. He kept on whispering apologies to you, sweet apologies that warms your heart and tighten your hug placing you on the bed gently, “can I sleep here?”

“Of course Johnny. Never leave me”

He let out a soft chuckle and lay beside you, “Never again”

The next day you woke up without Johnny by your side. You’re starting to think that maybe it was a dream? But you smell fresh coffee and toasted bread with butter or maybe that was grilled cheese.

“Good morning, sorry you woke up alone. I had to go to the farmers market” you hugged him from behind, kissing his muscular back “Now, I’m not a good cook like Jaehyun but you always loved my coffee, here” he hands you your hot coffee and asked for a good morning kiss that you happily gave.

“Do you have work today?” he asked looking at your morning face admiring your messy hair and swollen face.

“Nope. What do you have in mind”

“Meet my parents today?” you almost spit your coffee when you hear him say that.

The whole car drive was full of questions about his parents mainly because you have no idea what they’re like. Johnny was amused at how worried you were even though he’s confident they’re going to love you. “How many girls did you introduce to them already?” you asked Johnny nervously watching him laugh at your serious question, “You’re the first. I told you, you’re my first love- will you stop worrying? Look there they are” he waved at them happily as you smiled to his parents, waiting for Johnny to finish parking the car.

First impression to his mother, well she looks nothing like the one you imagined. You can’t believe you imagined your boyfriend’s mom as someone who will stare you down the moment she meets you. In reality, Johnny’s mom is bubbly and she welcomed you with a warm hug the moment you got out of the car. Johnny’s dad looked a lot like him and also welcomed you with a warm hug and a big smile his eyes almost disappears, “come inside, the food is ready”

Johnny’s home is comfortable. A normal asian household in a neighbourhood in Chicago. The dinner is set at a patio in their backyard, every food you see at the table are made by Johnny’s parents. The Seos are funny people, all three of them made you laugh the whole dinner. Telling you stories about Johnny’s childhood and mostly talked about how they love their son. It’s really heart warming because you feel the level of intensity of their love for Johnny and you understand them because you love Johnny too.

“Are you enjoying The Art Institute of Chicago?” Mrs. Seo asked you as she watches you cut the cake and put a piece first on Johnny’s plate. She was watching you the whole time. How you talk to Johnny, how you smile at him, how you answer their questions with respect. She thinks you’re a natural when it comes to caring for her son and that he’s in good hands, and it gives her great relief.

“Yes ma’am, I enjoy every second of it. Though it’s hard to impress my boss and earn a permanent spot at the institute but, I’m getting there and I won’t stop” you gave her a piece too then Mr. Seo. From there on, Johnny couldn’t stop talking about you in front of his parents, he even told them how you clean your apartment spotless.

Meeting Johnny’s family was fun, they were cool parents and you’re positive Johnny got his wits from his mom. Back then you wonder why Johnny is such a gentleman to you but now you know the answer to that question. His dad is a natural sweet guy and a real gentleman. Looking at them made you think that love is real and maybe for the next 30 years that’s going to be you and Johnny.

When it’s time to go home already his parents walked you and Johnny to the car. “If Johnny doesn’t marry you I will seriously get mad” Mrs. Seo whispered beside you letting Johnny and Mr. Seo walk pass you two. You giggled at what she said to you, it makes your heart happy that she likes you. You and Johnny waved goodbye to his parents and gave them hugs before you two leave. “I told you they’d love you” Johnny holds your hand while he drives and kissed your left hand too many times because he can’t kiss you on the lips.

The moment you got back to your apartment you went straight to the bathroom and took a shower leaving Johnny at the living room couch as he rest. While you were busy taking a shower, Johnny messaged Jaehyun and sent him a picture of you and his parents laughing together over dinner.

Johnny: [attached picture] I win. This has to stop Jaehyun. I’m going to propose to her after graduation.

“hey baby, go take a shower while I finish up here” you invited Johnny inside your bathroom, accepting your offer a little too excited. You were busy brushing your teeth when Johnny made his way to the shower trying not to peak at your boyfriend’s gorgeous body. He likes singing in the shower and you love listening to his beautiful voice while you dry your hair. When he got out wet and hot, his lower body is covered with a thick towel but the bulge on his crotch is still visible. And he’s big.

Johnny stood behind you watching you put lotion through the mirror with loving eyes, “What?” you asked him, turning around to put a smaller towel on top of his head and you start drying his hair. Making sure to tiptoe so you’re able to reach him. His hands travel down to your covered ass keeping you close to his body you could smell the shower gel from his skin. Playing with the hem of your panties you smirk at him because he’s too predictable but you can tell he’s stopping himself, “put it inside” giving him consent without looking at him.

Following what you said, he squeezed and kneads both of your ass cheeks until you’re finished drying his hair. Giving him a peck on the lips and walked out of the bathroom. You turned on the lamp shade and jumped right in your comfortable bed, waiting for Johnny to get dressed but he has other plans.

“Why are you just standing there and staring at me looking so sexy with that towel wrapped around your waist. Come on, get dressed already and come to bed” you whine and watch him walk on the edge of the bed looking like a lost god inside your room.

Removing his towel in front of you, his eyes never leave yours but yours left his to look at his hard cock. “It’s not fair that I’m the only one naked here” he whispered so sexily beside your ear and eventually bitting the shell of your ear. Hands helping you to remove your shirt and panties without a rush. Pushing you down on the mattress as he spread soft kisses around your neck, shoulders and lips.

“I got tested last week”

With wide eyes you pull away from him just enough to look at him clearly and check if he’s saying the truth. “And?” your heart beats so fast as you wait for his answer, hoping for some good news.

“I think I rather show you than tell you. Hmm?”

“Fuck Johnny!” you shouted at him showing your happiness tears pooling on the corner of your eye.

“Yes, that’s what were going to do all night”

You hugged him tight until he tells you he needs air, pulling him on top of you letting him put all of his weight on your body. He’s fucking heavy but you don’t care. Too happy and excited about the great news you kiss him down to the mattress and waited for yourself to relax. Putting him under your spell as you made your way on top of him, Johnny felt cheated and quick to grab your body closer to him as he switch positions with you so easily. “Uh-uh. I’m on top, you can have second round”

His hands are quick to travel around your body, making a trail of wet kisses from your lips down to your lower abdomen. Stopping yourself to moan a little to louder because it’s been too long since Johnny touched you, only he can make your whole body sensitive. “Let it out, I love hearing you and you know that”

Big hands are caressing both of your thighs as you spread your legs in front of him so he can kneel between you. Going back to kiss your lips, putting his right arm in between your bodies, “were like virgins” you both chuckle at what he said but yours turned into a long moan when you feel him play with your slit, feeling his finger spread your juices and make your pussy more wet.

Even though foreplay is not new for the both of you, deep inside you’re both nervous. Nervous because finally tonight you two will have sex and the excitement is balling up in your bodies. Kneeling in between your legs again, Johnny moved intentionally slow and took his time with you. Thinking about how he doesn’t want to fuck you like how he fucked other girls.

He lifts your right leg gently, feeling your soft skin on his hands and placing kisses on your leg and shin. “This is the first time that I get nervous for sex… I’m just full of love for you I don’t know how to start. But oh the amount of things I want to do with you, baby” it is indeed surprising to see Johnny so nervous in bed and what he said to you made you smile beneath him.

“Don’t smile like that, you don’t know what your smile does to me” he kissed your leg again softly, placing it above his shoulders and leaning down close to you until you’re chest to chest. Johnny’s head perfectly rest on your left shoulder kissing it and your neck as he pleases. He lines his cock to your entrance pushing in slowly making you feel his veiny cock stretch your cunt for the first time. You hiss from hurt of the stretch gasping sharply as your arms swings around Johnny’s. Breathing fast and sharp near his ear, raking his soft hair as you feel all of him.

Neither of you can’t believe that Johnny is inside you. He told you how you feel so warm around him, incredibly tight and wet. How he wants to go deeper inside you but he doesn’t want to hurt you. Like you, he is breathing deeply and sharply near your ear whispering those words to you and kissing you more to tell you he means it.

While Johnny was whispering you sweet and dirty words, you focus on what you’re feeling down there and wonder how did it fit inside you. He has a big cock that’s for sure. Johnny continues to push in slowly, it’s so big you let out a soft ‘ouch’ and ‘ow’ from time to time. He loves the sound of it.

“Am I hurting you?” he stopped for a second and you nod your head breathing heavily. “Good” he said with a smirk and went back to pushing in his cock. “You sure Jaehyun fucked you good all those years?” you pinched his nipples with all your strength while you take his cock, making him whine and turned on even more. At least you made him shut up about Jaehyun.

This is it. Grunts and moans surrounds the room the moment he started rolling his hips. Kissing you to let you know how he’s getting addicted by how you feel so good around him.

You let out the word, “big” with airy and breathy tone giving you more hard and slow thrusts so you will never forget this moment. Hitting you deep inside, he double his pace until your boobs bounce and your nipples brush on his chest making you moan louder. You reach for Johnny’s soft lips to shut yourself up and kiss him while taking those thrusts but pulling away eventually to let out a moan.

“Johnny- oh fuck! nipples, so sensitive touch them please” with no questions asked his free hand goes to your left nipple pinching it and gripping your boob just the way you like it. The position of your leg on top of Johnny’s shoulder is making you crazy, it hits perfectly deep on the spot where it feels so good.

You put your point finger inside Johnny’s mouth letting his tongue play with it until your satisfied, looking straight into his eyes as you removed your finger and transfer it in your mouth, “that’s hot” he groaned and bit your left nipple

Locking eyes with you as he put down your leg kissing you hungrily as you swing back your arms around his neck wrapping your leg around his waist. You can feel his hard abs against your stomach as he thrust still with that unbelievable pace, thinking about how hot what it is you’re doing with your boyfriend right now just simply puts you on edge.

“Johnny- huuuhh!” you call him out and part your lips, telling him that you’re about to cum as you shut your eyes and furrow your brows.

“I know baby, I know. Fuck you look so hot right now”

Both on edge and ready to let go, Johnny managed to pull away from you to grip your waist with both hands. Lifting your hips from the mattress unconsciously as he continues to give you quick and hard thrusts. “Fuck dont stop!” gripping the sheets as you let go and clench your pussy for as far as you can hold.

Watching you shiver beneath him and enjoy your high while he’s still catching for his sweet release is like an accomplishment for him. Shooting his cum inside you, Johnny whimpers loudly and moans your name with heavy breaths and sharp gasps.

You clear your throat and reach for him, “Kiss me Johnny.” As you devour each other’s lips again, Johnny’s thrust became slow and relaxed just perfect to remind you that he’s inside you still.

“Johnny, I can’t feel my legs”

That made him finally stop moving but still not pulling out. “Mind if I stay in for a while?”

Arms flying around him again to push him closer to you, loving how Johnny feels inside you. “I don’t mind baby, stay forever”

As always, you two finish the night with a lot of kisses. Soft, gentle, rough hungry kisses all night long until you two get tired and sleep naked, hands intertwined and happy that you two finally made love.

…………………………………………. Masterlist

I told myself I will stop making Johnny fics and give chance to other members but here I go again. Forgive me, he’s not even my ult :(( haha Anyway, thank you for reading this! This has been the longest thing I’ve ever written and I will never write a love triangle fic ever again. hahahha kidding. I got the inspiration from this photo, hahaa Jaehyun looked so handsome here like ‘boi who u textin huh’

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jaybear1701 · 4 years ago

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March 29, 1970

Astronauts are a rare breed, and Pam is still amazed that she, of all people, has a front row seat to the American heroes. A rather unique one at that, where she bears witness to facets usually shrouded from the rest of the country, catching glimpses of what lies beneath the carefully curated air of confidence and capability.

For all the stoicism of the likes of an Ed Baldwin, or the laid-back charm of a Gordo Stevens, there’s a thread of vulnerability that ties them together, tense and taut. It emerges as the nights wear on, and the liquor flows freely. Pam has bent her ear long enough to recognize it for what it is–an unspoken acknowledgment that, despite hours upon hours of meticulous preparation that can stretch for months or even years, the precariousness of their jobs means it could all go belly up without a moment’s notice.

She observes this uncertainty–this fear –even in the ASCANs, every time they walk into The Outpost with one less candidate in tow. Pam makes sure to give an extra generous pour of whiskey whenever she sees the exhaustion in Tracy Stevens’ eyes or the weariness in Danielle Poole’s polite smile. Tries to make the already taciturn Ellen Waverly laugh whenever she folds ever inward into quiet solitude.

Yes, Pam knows the weakness of these titans of space. They know she knows. And though she’s an ally, and not quite a friend, her discretion makes her an honorary member of their exclusive club. But sometimes that privilege can be a bit too much. Too overwhelming to play unofficial therapist as she fixes cocktails and cracks open beer bottles for hours on end.

And so, she welcomes the breaks, and doesn’t hesitate to accept when her boss tells her to clock out early on a slow Sunday afternoon. It’s Easter after all, and even the astronauts know better than to spend it away from their families.

Pam’s halfway out the door, already in her own little world, when she nearly bumps into someone while crossing the threshold.

“Pam, hi.” Ellen, startled, takes a step back as Pam exits and lets the door swing shut behind her.

“Hey,” Pam greets, stomach fluttering in pleasant surprise.

In jeans and a white blouse, Ellen’s the most casual Pam’s ever seen her. She takes in Pam’s denim jacket and the purse slung over her shoulder. “You, uh, heading out?”

“Yeah.” Pam nods. “Got a ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card for the rest of the day.”

“Oh.”

Pam’s not sure if the flash of disappointment in Ellen’s brown eyes is a figment of her imagination. “Didn’t expect to see you here on a holiday.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Ellen shrugs sheepishly. “Took a walk and just ended up here, I guess.”

Pam gives an exaggerated grimace. “I don’t know whether that’s sweet or sad.”

Ellen laughs. “Definitely the latter, for sure.”

Of all the ASCANs, Ellen’s the one Pam knows the least about. Not that she hasn’t been curious to know more about the introverted trainee. She knows better than to push, preferring to let people open up at their own pace. But when an opening presents itself…

“Won’t your family wonder where you are?” Pam ventures.

“Ah, family’s back in Connecticut.” Ellen slips her hands in her back pockets. “So…”

She’s alone , Pam realizes with a swell of sympathy, and before she can think better of it, she blurts out, “You should come with me.”

Ellen’s eyebrows shoot up. “W-where?”

“Anywhere’s gotta be better than here.” Pam doesn’t know what she’s doing or why she’s doing it. But it just feels right . “I mean, unless you want to spend the rest of your holiday in this shithole. No judgment.”

To Pam’s relief, the corners of Ellen’s lips curl up. “Lead the way.”

It’s a beautiful spring day in Houston, still pleasantly cool as the days creep toward the heat of summer. Pam brings Ellen to her favorite park, where budding trees line the banks of a small pond in bright pastels of pink and green and white. The sun glints off the rippling water and, judging by the way Ellen’s eyes light up, Pam knows she made the right decision.

“So, how’s training going?” Pam asks as they walk side-by-side along a paved path that winds around the pond, taking their time.

“It’s…” Ellen squints into the distance before glancing sidelong at Pam. “Don’t you get tired of us unloading on you?”

The question catches Pam off-guard, and she doesn’t answer right away. “No one’s, um, ever asked me that.”

“Probably because a lot of us are narcissistic assholes,” Ellen says the expletive so matter-of-factly that Pam can’t help but laugh. “It’s true! You know it.”

“Not all of you.” Pam nudges Ellen’s shoulder with her own. “Listening’s part of the job.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t get tired of it,” Ellen points out, prompting a noncommittal hum from Pam. “I could go on and on about how it’s tough and stressful, but I’m guessing you’ve heard it all before. I’d rather know more about you.”

“I’m really not that interesting,” Pam deflects even as warmth prickles up the back of her neck.

“Try me.” Ellen looks at her with such open, genuine interest that Pam caves. She’s not quite sure what it is about Ellen that makes her want to open up, but she does and she goes with the flow.

She leads them to a row of empty benches situated beneath pergolas covered in plants that twist up and around wooden posts to create a tangled rooftop of sweet-scented blooms.

“Let’s see.” Pam takes a seat and angles herself toward Ellen, who mirrors her. Their knees are almost close enough to touch. “Grew up in a small town outside of Austin. Got my bachelor’s in English from UT, to my parents’ deep and never-ending chagrin.”

“Which part didn’t they like, if you don’t mind me asking?” Ellen tilts her head to the side, curiosity etched across her pretty features.

“Take your pick. It was bad enough their only daughter wanted to go to college–because a woman’s place is always in the home, of course,” Pam rolls her eyes, “But she also had to go and pick a quote-unquote ‘useless’ degree.”

“It’s not useless,” Ellen says sincerely, once again surprising Pam.

“Thanks, but I know it’s not exactly practical. I mean, not like an engineering degree or anything.”

“Engineering’s overrated.”

Pam wrinkles her nose, incredulous. “Says the woman who’ll be up in space mapping out the universe in a few years.”

“I’m serious,” Ellen insists. “Outer space is exciting, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes I think people get too caught up in the external, when there’s still so much left unexplored within humanity’s…” Her hands grasp at the air as if the right words hang invisibly around them. “I don’t know… innerspace? And the arts navigate it.”

Lips parted, Pam is left speechless and, if she’s honest, a bit flattered.

“God, that’s cheesy, isn’t it?” Ellen winces.

“No, that’s…” Without thinking, Pam reaches out and brushes her fingers against Ellen’s knee. “That’s really sweet. Thank you.”

Gaze drifting down toward the brief touch, Ellen clears her throat and looks out toward the water, seemingly fascinated by a family of ducks floating along the surface. “You’re welcome.” A light shade of pink dusts her cheeks. “And so you ended up in Houston because?”

“Isn’t it every little girl’s dream to sling drinks in a NASA watering hole?”

Ellen chuckles. “Definitely was mine. Except I wanted to do it on the moon.”

Pam shakes her head, amused, very much enjoying this playful side of the normally staid astronaut candidate. Truthfully, Pam’s not even sure herself anymore why she’s remained in Houston. What had seemed like a good idea after college has slowly faded in the wake of her ongoing indecision about what exactly she wanted in life.

“I figured Houston’s not too far from home,” she finally says. “But far enough away that I can figure out my shit without my parents’ constant disappointment.”

Ellen ducks her head, dark hair partly obscuring the wistful expression on her face. “I get that.”

Pam stifles a sudden and unexpected urge to smooth Ellen’s hair back behind her ear. She leans back and crosses her arms, to prevent herself from doing something monumentally stupid. “Are you saying your parents aren’t thrilled their daughter could be the first American woman in space?”

“Yes,” Ellen answers candidly. “And no. My parents are definitely proud. Supportive, even. But I also know they wouldn’t complain if I just settled down, got married, and helped with the family business.” Her voice is soft in its resignation, and Pam can’t help but empathize.

“Expectations are a bitch, aren’t they?”

Ellen laughs, the sound musical, and Pam’s heart throbs without warning. “Yes,” she turns her head to capture Pam’s gaze. “Yes, they are.”

Ellen’s always been pretty–Pam’s not blind. But in the sunlight filtering through the canopy above them, she’s particularly radiant, and Pam quickly forces herself to tamp down on the warmth spreading through her chest. This isn’t the right time or place, and most definitely isn’t the right person, for those sort of feelings.

“I, um, I’m glad I bumped into you today,” Pam says to fill the silence stretching slowly between them, self-consciously brushing her bangs to the side.

“Me too.” Ellen looks out over the water once again, wistful. “I had no idea this was even here.”

“It’s not like you all have a lot of time to sightsee,” Pam points out. “But if you ever need a tour guide, you know where to find me.”

“Not sure about a tour guide,” Ellen glances at her, almost shyly, out of the corner of her eye, “but I wouldn’t say no to a friend.”

Pam pretends to mull it over. “Yeah, I guess I could put up with you. Until you move to space, that is.”

“Oh, well, thanks for doing me that favor.”

“Don’t mention it, but don’t think this means you’ll get free drinks or anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ellen says with a gentle smile.

Pam returns it, trying but failing to ignore just how light her heart feels.

#ellen x pam #for all mankind #ellen waverly #pam horton #spacepoet #fam fic #famk fic

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this-is-all-sorry · 4 years ago

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5am story

On a hill in the middle of town there is a museum filled to the brim with history. This museum is called something perfectly normal, something like the national museum of history or the museum of some important things or something like that. At least on the outside of its building there is a perfectly normal name, but everyone who has actually been inside, everyone who has actually seen it calls it something quite different; they simply call it, “The Museum on the Hill.”

Every few years there will be a ceremony where the museum will receive another artifact or piece of art or something of great value. No one truly knows how big it is either. One day the building will have four floors rather than the three it had just a day before. The size of each floor is also up to speculation, some floors endless, others limited. The Museum on the Hill isn’t in a grand city or in a place specific to history but people flock to it all the same. Philanthropists tend to migrate to the museum whenever the exhibits start to get stale. They come when the curator starts talking about wanting something new, almost as if he calls to them.

There is something to be said about the curator for he is an odd fellow. He is tall, almost insultingly so. He looks down on every one of his patrons as if they should be groveling at his feet just to get a glimpse inside. He dresses in a red suit and if that wasn’t eccentric enough he has it stitched with a scale like design. He has dark black hair that almost turns red under particular lights. The adults that meet him would say that his nose is too long and his ears too high and his mouth too small for his face to be likeable, not that he is likable at all.

While all of this being true for grown ups, the perspective children have is altogether different. The nose and ears and mouth together make him look like a character from their story books. The dark red hair mixed with dark red eyes make him seem otherworldly. His clothes are not eccentric in their eyes but the only sensible choice. He does not sneer at them but gives them a conspiratorial wink.

While opinions on the curator vary, everyone agrees that he loves his museum. He brings each exhibit to life, each artifact has its own story. With every tour he leads he makes people feel like a part of history, part of its story. He answers all questions with intimate knowledge; almost like he was there. Many times he has been asked if he was there watching history unfold to which he would only smile.

The people in the city next to the museum often wonder where the curator came from and how old he really is. They wonder if he has friends or family, someone to visit. The people have never seen him leave his museum nor have they heard about where he goes when the museum is closed. The oldest people know that he was there even before they were young and he will be there long after they’re gone. Because while they grew tall then old he remained the same as if time had overlooked him and the things in his museum.

The old tend to know more than the young; if only the young knew how to listen. Once or twice a generation a teen will try to take something from The Museum on the Hill. Sometimes it’s a single gold coin from a large pile, taken during the day, in the sunlight. The curator would ask for it returned and then banish the thief from returning. Nothing more, nothing serious. Sometimes they would try to take more and try to take it in the dead of night. When they do, they find no security system, no patrol, they can just walk in unaware of what awaits them.

As soon as their hand closes around their prize they can hear a whisper, “Leave before I keep you here forever.” It’s soft, like it could be in their head. At this point if their nerves get the better of them and let go the growling stops and they can leave without consequences. But as soon as they take the prize from its spot the voice comes back louder and turns into laughter. There is no use in running now the curator appears albeit changed. His suit is now a pair of great leathery wings, his face longer and more raptillian like, and his body now covered in scales.

The people know that to steal from a dragon is begging for death but the young do not listen and the curator gets hungry. The Museum on the Hill isn’t like other museums, it is far more vast and far more dangerous and that is just what is above ground. I didn’t even talk about what’s in the basement.

#short story #late night #dragon #original #creative writing

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cockasinthebird · 5 years ago

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ahhh grats on the milestone!! also holy shit youve got 500 prompts stored away somewhere??? im gonna go with my favourite number combo..... 317 👀 im super excited to see what you come up with!! 💖 -bbsitterpng

@babysitterpng Thank you so much!!! And yes, 500 goddamn prompts, all carefully curated, only the best for my beloved mutuals and followers!!

I got SO ELATED when I saw that you sent me a mystery prompt request!!!! ❤️💕 I would have finished it yesterday, but I got uhhh distracted 😏😏😏

317. “I think you’ll be happy to know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again and again and again; I knew exactly what I wanted to write for this immediately, and while I worry the exposition seems too rushed, I am very satisfied with the rest, all near 4k words!

So please, enjoy~

Today has been a long day that started when the sun had barely found its place in the sky.

Neil was beating at his bedroom door, asking why it’s locked, threatening to kick it down, demanding that Billy get up right now to mow the lawn, just to complain about what a shitty job he did after, shouting about how he has to do everything himself.

Billy would beat his pillows, lift weights till his muscles hurt, and smoke like a chimney, all to alleviate stress in one way or another.

At 12 Max was leaving to go play DnD with her little loser friends, ready to skate her way over there, but Billy needed to get out of the house, have a valid excuse, and it doesn’t get better than “watching out for his little sister.”

They’re on good terms now, after they had gotten in an intense fight and she screamed at him to just leave her and her friends alone, and after not spending every waking hour hating and antagonizing her, she’s not as annoying anymore, and Billy thinks that perhaps his anger was the issue here, not her being a little shit.

That realisation helped him a lot in general. It’s around that time he “apologised” to Harrington the best he could, but when Steve was nice and understanding of his issues, it only made him angry again. Billy doesn’t believe he deserves to be forgiven so easily, no, Harrington should have hit him, defended himself, gotten pissed and told Billy to fuck off.

Instead they wound up at Benny’s diner, sharing a giant plate of fries and a milkshake each.

“My treat,” Steve insisted.

And that’s when old issues resurfaced; the same exact issues that meant they had to leave California. The same exact issues that brought Billy’s wrath upon this pretty boy. The same exact issues that led one thing to another, and now Billy knows the route from his house to the Harrington Mansion like the back of his hand; could drive it with his eyes closed now.

But he doesn’t want to seem needy or clingy. Doesn’t want to be what he is - the way he is.

So after dropping Max off at the Wheeler’s house, the fiery redhead even going as far as to offer him a bit of a smile, he didn’t go home. Didn’t drive to Steve’s house either no matter how much he wanted to.

Don’t be needy, don’t be clingy. You’ll see him later.

So for four hours he drove around town, smoked by the quarry, got admired at a gas station when he refilled, passed Steve’s street far too many times, went to the empty pool that’s closed for the year and sat with his feet over the edge and smoked some more, restlessly kicking the tiling. Over the course of this time he checked his watch at least a billion times.

When it was finally 4pm, he drove to pick up his sister and El - the gang having managed to convince both Steve and Billy to take them to the movies to watch the last screening of The Neverending Story, which doesn’t exactly sound like something he wants to watch, but knowing Steve will be there, he agreed all too readily.

And as he pulls back up to the Wheeler’s again, he sees the brown BMW, Steve leaning against the door as he waits for the boys to pile into his car. Billy’s heart is beating like a painful drum in his aching chest, and when Steve sees him sitting and waiting for the girls, he smiles at him and waves.

Billy is as always astounded and breathless by the way Steve smiles, the way Steve looks at him now, like he’s happy to see him. He can’t smile back, he wants to, but his face feels dull and incapacitated. He wants to just kick open his car door, stomp up to Steve and fucking kiss him. Instead he simply waves back.

Then Max breaks the trance as she pulls open the door and crawls in to sit in the back with El.

“What the hell took you guys so long, I’m starving,” Billy complains as he looks over his shoulder at them.

Max is smart and doesn’t answer, and Billy is smart and doesn’t ask again. No he remains quiet as they follow the beemer, Max and El laughing loud and joyous behind him like girls their age do, talking about shit he doesn’t care for, just focuses on the car in front as they drive to Benny’s diner for early dinner before going to wolf down popcorn at the cinema.

The gang is eager and excited, like kids should be, running to the diner as they talk all too frantically about whatever it is kids talk about, Billy is really not paying attention, when Steve is right there.

“Find a booth where we can all sit!” Steve shouts after them, and Billy’s not sure if they heard him at all. “Hey Hargrove, got a smoke?” his voice kinder and friendly, too friendly, as he addresses Billy.

Steve leans against the hood of the camaro, smiling all too wide. He’s dressed in high waisted jeans and a red crop top that shows just enough of a midriff for it to be too much for Billy.

He takes up a spot next to Steve, just far away enough for it to not be suspicious, but absolutely too far away for it to not be enough, yet even from here he can smell the floral soap and honey shampoo. Can’t help but think of how soft Steve’s skin is, how silky his hair is, all newly washed and clean of him. Wonders if the purple hickeys are still visible across his chest, up his thighs.

Even though Steve is trying his best to meet Billy’s gaze, he refuses to look at him just in case it would be too obvious what he’s thinking about, as he unwraps a fresh pack of Marlboro and offers one up.

When Billy ignites his lighter and reaches forth, Steve touches his hand, holds it steady as he leans in to bring his cigarette to the flame. There’s a burning sensation where his pale, soft hand connects them, and when Steve dares rub Billy’s wrist with his fingers, there’s a pain shooting through his heart, a sharp wanting for more. No, a need for more. He’s caught staring at those pretty, pink lips when Steve pulls away and exhales a cloud.

“What’s wrong?” he asks with a wry smile, clearly aware.

“You know damn well ‘what’s wrong’,” Billy snaps a bit harsher than intended as he continues to force himself to look away.

Thankfully Steve takes it well and huffs a laugh filled with smoke.

They end up in silence after that; the comfortable kind that comes from being at peace together, easy and relaxed and pleasant, one where they don’t need words because there’s no longer any doubt between them. Perhaps that’s what love is, as cheesy and gross as that may be, Billy ponders. To be able to just exist together without it being awkward or stilted. Perhaps he’s fallen a bit in love with his ex-rival. Or perhaps he’s just in love with how he feels when he’s with Steve, both physical and not.

It isn’t till Steve finishes his cigarette, drops it on the asphalt and stomps it out, that he speaks,

“Oh, I almost forgot, I wanted to tell you something.” He’s smiling like the cat that got the cream, licking his lips a bit too slowly as he goes to whisper in Billy’s ear, “I think you’ll be happy to know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Billy’s heart skips several beats at that, before then going too fast - rapidly pumping blood through him, and there’s a certain rush of it going straight to his dick. He stares too long into those deep, dark eyes, mischievous and satisfied with the response as Billy short circuits.

“What?”

Steve shrugs and tips his head to the side a bit, acting all innocent and oblivious, lips drawn tight in a smile that goes from ear to ear. He opens his mouth and takes a long inhale, insinuating that he’s about to say something, then simply turns around, hands in his pockets as he walks towards the diner.

Leaving Billy behind, baffled, astonished, dumbfounded.

The next two hours feels like days.

They sit in the diner, Billy and Steve across from one another.

The kids are still as energetic as before, their voices a jumble of words and phrases and retellings of DnD from today’s session. Steve chews on his straw as he tries to follow along with whatever they’re talking about, laughing when they laugh, nodding on occasions. Whenever he looks over at Billy, blue eyes flee to stare out the window instead, finding great interest in the pattern of how one street light flickers.

Before the movie starts, they go to let out water by the urinals of the cinema, Billy standing right next to Steve, having hoped to catch a glimpse, see if he’s telling the truth, the urge near irresistible to just take a quick look, but the other men around them might not take too kindly to something like that.

And during the movie they sit together at the end of the row.

Steve, Billy, Max, El, Mike, Will, Dustin, Lucas.

He didn’t care for the movie before, only going along as a sign of friendliness and to have an excuse to not be home, but now. Now he’s almost hating having to sit here, next to Steve, shoulders nearly touching, shoes pressed together on the dark floor, only an armrest between them.

For the first twenty arduous minutes, Steve doesn’t do anything, doesn’t say anything, showing no sign of registering how near they are, just watches the movie in silence with a smile, while Billy is sat next to him, burning up despite his shirt being unbuttoned as always, mind racing with thoughts and images of Steve Steve Steve.

So distracted by all of that, that he nearly jumps when Steve touches his hand. Same softness and tenderness from earlier on the parking lot, the way Steve always touches him with just a hint of hesitance when they’re not completely alone.

But the cinema is dark, the kids are entranced, and there’s barely a handful of people besides them, so maybe it’s safe enough.

Billy raises his fingers into the touch, thinking that Steve wants to hold hands, intertwine them, any of that stupid romantic shit that he loves and Billy pretends to only barely tolerate, but the touch moves past that, a feather across the back of his hand, up to gently and carefully grab him by the wrist.

At that, Billy finally looks down, keeps facing the big screen but pays acute attention to what Steve is doing, where he’s leading his hand, placing it on his knee, Billy’s fingers in between spread legs. He continues to guide the hand further up, towards the heat of where his thighs meet, effectively sending Billy’s heart rate sky high.

When he finally turns his head, he finds Steve staring right back, a small and restrained smile, and in that moment, Billy feels like he can read Steve’s thoughts, knows exactly what’s on his mind, never doubts it for a second, and is proved right when Steve stands up and climbs over the seat to walk along the empty row behind them.

Billy whips around to Max, and hisses out, “We’re going for a smoke, don’t fucking go anywhere.”

“Yeah yeah,” she groans all indifferent and waves him away, eyes big and caught in the movie.

The bathroom at the Hawk is as clean as it ever gets, and perhaps not too shockingly, empty. Movies are running and people are seated.

Steve stands looking at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair, not that it looks any different to Billy now than before.

He takes heavy steps towards the brunette, announcing himself and catches Steve’s eyes in the mirror, watching as Billy approaches and steps behind him. Billy leans in to run his nose up Steve’s neck, inhaling deeply and humming out pleasantly, blinking slowly as he keeps pressing his face into the crook there, not quite kissing yet.

Eyes dart back to the mirror where heavenly blue meets chocolate brown, a feverish intensity there as Steve stares back. Gently, but with no hesitation, Billy snakes his arms around Steve’s waist, past the belt and up to touch where skin shows between jeans and the top.

When there’s no ‘stop’, he keeps going, curls his fingers around the red fabric and lifts up, exposing Steve’s chest to the both of them in the mirror. Bitten and marked, purple and red, Billy eyes his masterwork with an appreciative gaze, and with one hand keeping the shirt away, he moves the other up to graze his fingers across each little bruise his lips left just two days ago.

Steve hums a bit, erotic and turned on, and if more were to happen now, it wouldn’t be the first time they’d found their way together in public. And perhaps that thought strikes Steve just as it does Billy, for he pushes back into him, rubbing his soft ass against where he finds a slight bulge already.

“Fuck, Stevie…” Billy huffs and breathes against Steve’s neck, eyes closed as he relishes in the slow friction, kissing sloppy and half-minded against pale skin. “You really wanna do this here? Where the kids could just walk in any moment?”

“I would have maybe pushed you into a stall first,” Steve laughs, a slight stutter to it. “But I was thinking your car? The movie is like two hours, we could find an alley, park there, let me ride your cock?”

A growl escapes by the enchantment of those words, and Billy bites into Steve’s neck, earning him an illicit little hiss and smirk.

“How am I supposed to say no when you put it like that?”

Neither of them feel particularly bad for just abandoning the gang like that, but they’ll be quick, hidden in this alleyway, not too far away from the theatre, a bit of fun while the others gawk and gape at the magic of movies.

But it’s hard to be remorseful, when Steve is moaning like this, Billy two fingers deep in him in the driver's seat of the camaro.

Steve didn't lie about going commando today; told Billy, “When I found out you were tagging along, I hoped I’d get to have you alone like this.”

It took Steve less than two seconds to start getting undressed when Billy turned off the engine, whereafter he crawled right onto his lap, hard and bottomless, knees over Billy’s shoulders, feet locked behind the headrest, back against the steering wheel.

“Ah-h, mmh, fuck, Billy-” he whines, hands placed firm on Billy’s legs for support as he lifts and angles his ass to allow Billy access with lubed up fingers.

His other hand squeezes Steve’s leaking prick, using the precum to slick up the flesh, keeping him hard and crying like that. His own lonesome cock aches where it lies full against his stomach; the button down having been opened completely to avoid staining it, and giving Steve something to admire.

“Billy, please, just- oh- just fuck me already!” Steve’s voice pitched high with lust and impatience, brows drawn together, his arms shaking underneath his own weight.

“Just don’t wanna hurt you, baby,” Billy purrs.

He watches with great interest as he pumps two fingers in and out of Steve’s wet hole, making a scissoring motion to stretch him properly.

“Mmh, we don’t exactly have time for that, and I need you so bad,” Steve says with the sweetest, most alluring tone he can.

And God if that doesn’t go straight to Billy’s twitching dick.

“You sure?” He wants to double check anyways.

“Yes- yes! Just- get a condom, I don’t wanna ruin my favourite pants.”

Billy chuckles lightly at that thought as he leans to reach for the glovebox, absolutely turned on by the idea of Steve walking around brimming with him, his cum dripping out and running down his thighs. Perhaps another time.

The condom rolls on with ease, Billy having become quite the expert with one through time, but he has been getting a lot of practice lately what with Steve and his more adventurous side, and wearing a rubber when fucking in public makes for an easy and quick cleanup. He gives himself a few good strokes to lube up good and nice, ensuring that Steve gets a smooth ride as he aligns himself with the hole that flutters eagerly to suck him in.

Greedy, starved, zealous, Steve sits himself on that veiny dick, ass fully flush with Billy’s hips, breathlessly gasping and cursing around his name, “Fuck Billy…”

“Mmmh,” Billy hums and licks his lips, staring down with adoration at how he’s buried deep inside of Steve’s ass, tight with lack of preparation, but- “You feel so good baby, taking my cock so well.”

He brings his hands to grab Steve by the hips and guide him in a circular motion, muscles clenching around him that can only be described as beautiful, eliciting groans and causing him to dig in his nails.

Steve’s panting, bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat, the windows fogged up, telling anyone that would walk by exactly what was going on, and when he lifts up to fuck himself on Billy’s fat erection, they shake the entire car with his fervor; each time he sinks down he moans more; moans with less and less self control.

“Take off your shirt, pretty boy,” Billy drawls out and swipes his tongue across shiny and sharp teeth. “Wanna see you.”

It’s a hurried motion that takes less than three seconds for Steve to yank off the crop top and grab on to Billy’s knees again, refusing to wait even one moment in the haze of his neediness.

Billy, however, faced with marks of his own making, takes time to appreciate how perfectly purple suits Steve’s pale skin, blooming across his pecs, his tits, near nipples that strut now, begging to be touched. And who is he not to oblige. Hands travel up from hips, past the waist, to Steve’s chest - the brunette seemingly lost in chasing his own high, that he doesn’t notice where Billy is going till he presses hard against the sensitive buds.

“A-ah! Fuck, Billy!” And he throws his head back.

Steve’s entire body tenses at that, each muscle flexing and twitching, contracting around Billy’s steely cock, and he can’t help himself but to thrust into the clenching hole, the rim taking a chokehold on the base of his prick. Steve has to bring up a hand against the roof of the car to keep himself from hitting his head, while also giving him the ideal leverage to push down hard, bodies colliding, skin slapping together in a lascivious and erotic rhythm.

“God, you’re such a little slut for my cock, huh baby?” Billy growls like a ravenous wolf as he pounds into Steve, forcing out every little cry and moan, telling him that he’s hitting just the right spot.

“Billy- Billy, ah-a, fuck- fuck-” Steve whimpers and looks down to watch one hand on his hip that pulls him down, another rubbing hard against his nipple.

“Yeah, harrh, listen to yourself,” and Billy pauses to listen to how Steve mewls, revelling in the fact that he’s the cause of that. “So loud and lewd, baby, calling out my name like that.”

“Billy.”

He’s a confident guy, Keg King and lady killer, and while shit like emotions and feelings stuns him, this brings him alive, lust coiling in his gut, burning hot and white, ramping up to a fever pitch as he fucks with wild abandon into Steve’s wet cunt.

Billy hasn’t bothered masturbating in a good while, no, he saves all of that pent up energy for Steve, to fill him up; desire blinding him to anyone else but his princess.

“Mmhnn- ahh, fuck, Stevie, can’t wait to get you alone tonight,” he says, voice fucked out and perverted, Steve looking at him as he speaks, “Drop off all the little shits and then fuck you into your mattress till you’re a mess, pump you full of my cum.”

Steve’s eyes screws shut tight, mouth wide open as he moans, “Yes, oh God, Billy-”

“Yeah? You want that?”

“Yes! Please! Fuck-” He nods the best he can, hair bouncing.

“You’re such a good little whore for me, princess, so needy for my cock.”

“Billy- Billy please,” Steve croons, all pathetic and close.

“Anything,” Billy responds with fast devotion, a promise that he gladly lives up to, knowing well what it is Steve is begging for, wants to hear him say it anyways.

“Touch me, please, ah-h- I’m so so close, fuck…”

Billy grins wide, so self satisfied it’s nearly disgusting, and he closes his fingers firm around Steve’s slick erection; he gets so fucking wet, leaking profusely, swears it only happens when he’s with Billy like this.

“Just like that, yes! Oh fuck, I’m- ah-”

“Yeah, cum for me baby, wanna watch you- show me what I do to you.”

Billy jerks him off quick and crude, knows how Steve likes it, how he needs it; loves being manhandled, talks about that whenever he’s with Billy he feels small and light.

And Steve cums with a loud and unadulterated moan, stilling his entire body in a tense pose as Billy fucks him fast; slamming quickly against his prostate, hand milking him good till he’s emptied out on his own chest.

It is a glorious thing to watch, a masterpiece of performance only for him, a grand show for a one man audience that Billy gets to relive again and again and again. Steve’s jaw drops as he continues to cry out like he’s a goddamn porn star, overstimulated and loving it.

Billy’s own orgasm is far less showy; a few shallow, brutish thrusts, grunting through gritted teeth, he shoves Steve down onto him hard as his hips stutter through completion, waves of impossible heat pouring out and leaving him a puddle of bliss and euphoria.

Time is lost to them, as they sit like that; Steve’s one leg having fallen between the seats as he went limp with exhaustion, still firmly planted in Billy’s lap, who’s soft and complacent and fucking tired, both of them breathing heavy.

“We should… we should go back…” Steve mumbles with closed eyes.

Billy’s watching the way Steve’s cum slowly slips down his chest, running over his abs and nearing his pubic hair.

“Do we have to?” he eventually manages to ask.

And Steve chuckles at that, the vibrations through his body clenching around Billy’s spent cock and he can’t help the sore “ooh”s and “ahh”s as he tries to pull away from it.

“Sadly we do. Can’t have the kids walk home alone in the dark, besides…” Steve grinds his ass onto Billy’s lap, making him wince in not quite pain, not quite pleasure, but definitely too much. “Think you promised to… fuck me into my mattress?”

#Harringrove #My Writing #Lemon #Mystery Prompt #500 followers #Babysitterpng #hope it was as good for you as it was for me sweets #😌#Anonymous

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dovechim · 6 years ago

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free delivery not included (m)

➾ 7.1k

➾ summary: the premise is simple, really. you’ve been wanting to have a baby ever since you and your husband got married three years ago. Dr Kim Namjoon is the top fertility specialist in town who boasts a 100% success rate. the thing is, your husband has given up on trying to have children, so you find yourself visiting Dr Kim Namjoon in secret, only to realise that his methods are slightly unorthodox.

➾ warnings: mentions of infidelity and cheating, use of medical equipment (speculum), unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), impregnation, creampies, unprofessional behaviour from a medical professional, dirty talk involving humiliation

➾ a/n: a long time ago i said i was doing a fic for every member with this breeding kink and i didn’t know what i was getting myself into... a long time later, here is namjoon’s part :”) huge thanks goes to @jimlingss for as usual hearing my ideas out and hyping me up to write. i’ve been struggling with trying to like my own writing again but having kina’s support really meant a lot. of course, having all of you patient enough to wait for me is a huge motivating factor as well. without further ado, enjoy :)

Nerves are fluttering in your stomach as you take a queue number from the receptionist and seat yourself in the waiting room. This is most definitely not where you’d ever expect yourself to end up. Casting a quick glance around the room, you surreptitiously turn your wedding ring around so that the diamond on it is hidden and less conspicuous. Everyone else in the waiting room is here with their spouse; you are the only one alone and its painfully obvious.

“______?” The voice comes out of nowhere and jolts you out of your self-conscious worrying.

You spring out of your seat and nod to the receptionist as she directs you to the door at the end of the hallway. Feeling multiple curious eyes on your back, you read the sign on the door before knocking.

Dr Kim Namjoon

Fertility Specialist

“Come in,” a pleasant, timbre voice answers and you slip inside, only to be greeted by a man in tortoiseshell glasses, his blonde hair pushed off his forehead. He motions for you to sit down with a welcoming smile, and his warm presence already puts you a little more at ease.

You smile nervously at him as you take your seat in front of him, adjusting your skirt and tugging it a tad lower to avoid any form of eye contact with the handsome doctor.

“So, _____, what can I do for you today?” Dr Kim smiles as he rests his forearms on the desk, leaning forward. When he smiles his dimples are so prominent that it takes your breath away a little.

You can feel his attention focused on you, and for some reason this makes you even more nervous, so you drop your gaze down to your hands in your lap, absentmindedly playing with your wedding band in order to keep your nerves at bay. But then you remember that you’re also drawing attention to the fact that you’re married and here without your husband, so you immediately cover your left hand with your right. It’s too late though, with a tiny glance up, you catch Dr Kim’s gaze on your hands in your lap.

Clearing your throat, you pray that he doesn’t ask too many questions. “I-I’m here with concerns. A-about my fertility. I want to have a baby.”

Dr Kim chuckles pleasantly. “Well then, we’ll see what we can do about that. Just some questions for me to get a better sense of where you are in your journey to have a baby. How long have you been trying to get pregnant?”

He whips out a yellow legal pad and a pen to begin taking down notes, and without his piercing caramel eyes on you, you relax slightly; your heartrate slows down and the room in general feels less stuffy.

“I’ve been trying for three years,” you say in a near whisper, automatically wincing for the onflood of sympathy that you’ve come to expect whenever you tell someone about this.

But Dr Kim only nods once as he notes it down. “I see. And have you gone for any medical checkups in the past year? Anything of interest regarding your medical history I should know about?”

“No, I’m all clear,” you are now watching his fountain pen glide across the pages of his notepad with grace and ease, and before you can stop yourself, your eyes travel to the slim grip of his fingers.

“What about your… partner? That is, I’m assuming you have one,” Dr Kim looks up briefly to give you a smile.

“He’s also gone for tests and checkups,” you lace your fingers tightly together, thinking about your loving husband. “But the doctor said there’s no problem with either of us. I just… I don’t know why it’s taking so long. We’re both so desperate… I’mso desperate to have a baby.”

Your voice cracks slightly as emotion wells up in you, and you take a deep breath to center yourself again. “Dr Kim, I heard that you’re the top notch fertility specialist in town. My husband has lost all faith in us ever having a baby so he’s given up hope… he doesn’t know I’m here today. Please, can you help us?”

Dr Kim finishes his notes with a flourish, then he puts down his pen and looks up with a reassuring smile. “First of all, ____, I deeply sympathise with your struggles over the past three years. I know how incredibly emotional and difficult it can be to face such issues, and especially over such a long period of time. You are a very strong and determined woman to come here alone today without your husband. It shows that you don’t give up hope for something that you truly want, and for that I really admire you.”

His words take the tension out of your shoulders and sets you more at ease. You’d read articles about this man online, seen pictures of him even, but in real life he looks even more suave and breathtaking. Every single action and word of his is fuelled by a quiet confidence, a professionalism that is warm and reassuring.

“Over here, we have a 100% success rate with all of our procedures,” Dr Kim goes on. “We are proud to be the first fertility clinic that carries our own supply of sperm curated from our sperm bank.”

“Th-that’s amazing, Dr Kim” you nod as he hands you a brochure, but your eyes are fixed on his handsome smile.

“Please, call me Namjoon. I hope you can be more at ease with me. I want all my patients to think of me as a close friend,” Namjoon pushes his glasses up. “I can definitely help you with having a baby… but first I’d like to ask you what approach you prefer to take.”

You hesitate as you turn over the brochure in your hands. “Approach? What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I have several suggestions to help you conceive,” Namjoon says as he points to a list of options on the back of the brochure. “Firstly, IVF. In Vitro Fertilisation, a popular but very costly procedure that can take up to one year to show results. Seeing as you mention your husband not wanting to try any more medical approaches… I think it would be difficult for you to convince him to commit to this.”

“No, you’re right,” you sigh as you read over the estimated cost stated on the brochure. “Not only that, we just don’t have the means to afford that kind of procedure right now.”

Namjoon nods in understanding, and he directs your attention to the next option on the page. “No worries, let’s move on. The second option we have here is sperm donation, the most popular option for most of my patients. This treatment requires a healthy egg, which you definitely fit the requirement of. Like I mentioned before, we have our very own sperm bank here in the clinic, and once you make your decision, after a brief checkup, you can choose to have your first donation as soon as today. That is, if you’re deemed to be ovulating and fertile, of course.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Today? But that’s so soon! I mean, I’d love to see results as soon as possible, but my husband…”

“Ah, yes, he doesn’t know that you’re here, does he?” He shakes his head slightly in apology. “Forgive me if I’m stepping over the line here, but from a medical professional’s perspective, seeing as you and him have been trying to conceive for three years, it might be that your egg and his sperm simply aren’t compatible. If the both of you have gone for fertility checkups, and nothing abnormal has shown up…”

Namjoon’s voice trails off, and he looks at you to gauge your reaction.

“Actually…” your voice is hesitant as you meet his gaze. “I’ve come to that same conclusion myself. And before I came here today, I told myself to be open to the idea of getting sperm from another man. It’s just that… I don’t know how he would take it. Obviously he might not be very open to the idea, so that’s why I came here today without telling him.”

“I see.” Namjoon’s face is completely expressionless except for the muscle that jumps in his clenched cheek as he leans back in his chair. “Do I take it that you wish to receive a sperm donation today? Without your husband knowing?”

His question lingers in the air for a few moments. Your husband can’t possibly blame you for doing this. You’ve been trying for three years with no luck. Maybe it just wasn’t fated for you to have a baby with him. Why should you be deprived of the experience of motherhood just because of fate?

“He really, really wants a baby too,” you say, fully aware that you’re not answering his question. “If this goes on much longer, if I don’t get pregnant soon… he might end up leaving me for some beautiful, young and fertile twenty something.”

“I highly doubt that,” Namjoon shakes his head and holds up his hands. “Excuse me for being inappropriate, but any man who would leave someone like you is an idiot. You’re far too gorgeous for that to happen. And from what I can tell, you’re a strong and determined woman who knows what she wants too. It would only be a loss on his part, believe me.”

His smooth words and charming smile only make the butterflies in your stomach worse. “Dr- Namjoon… you’re used to complimenting women, aren’t you? Is that how you became the top fertility specialist here?”

He lets out a loud chuckle. “My patients feel right at home with me, and what can I say? I know women… intimately. Women like you deserve to be told how beautiful they are, and you deserve to be treated right too.”

Namjoon’s double entendre makes your heart pound in your chest. “You know… you really remind me of my husband. He could sweet talk his way into anyone’s life. That’s pretty much how I fell in love with him… and that’s why I’m worried. A charming and sweet man like you must definitely have a lot of women fawning over him.”

For the first time since the appointment began, you see Namjoon blush a little as he glances away for a moment. It seems like he is not used to being on the opposite side of receiving compliments, but the shy side of him is absolutely adorable. Namjoon pushes his glasses up on his nose a little, and he scratches his neck.

“That’s a wonderful compliment, thank you,” he manages to smile professionally, but only just. “I’m sure your husband knows how lucky he is to have such a wonderful wife like you. But if you’re really worried about that… let me help you. Personally, I want to make sure you have a nice and healthy baby, one that looks just as beautiful and is as kind as you.”

Elation lights up your face as you reach forward to grasp his hands involuntarily. “Thank you so much, Dr Kim!”

Namjoon holds both of your hands in his as he stands, motioning you over to the chair in the corner. “I’ll just do a quick checkup to determine where you are in your cycle right now, and then we can discuss options for the sperm donation. There’s a gown on the back of the chair, if you could just slip off your bottoms and put that on? I’ll give you some privacy.”

Namjoon draws the curtain and leaves you alone to change. Once the curtains are drawn, you slip off your pencil skirt and underwear, putting on the gown that comes down to your knee. When you’re done, you call out to Namjoon again, and he parts the curtain.

“Just hop up there for me will you?” Namjoon holds out his hand toward the chair.

You feel his hand on your waist helping you into the slightly high chair, and he directs your legs into the stirrups that go on either side. Namjoon’s warm hands secure your legs in a comfortable position as he checks in with you frequently. Your legs are now spread wide, and you are aware that your gown has ridden up all the way to your upper thigh.

“When was your last period?” Namjoon is washing his hands over at the sink and pulling on some gloves. He grabs a large container of what you assume must be some kind of lubrication before he pushes a wheeled chair over.

“Um, about… two weeks ago?” You hazard a guess, confirming after you check your period tracking app on your phone. “Exactly two weeks ago.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Namjoon raises his eyebrows in surprise. “That means you could be ovulating right now. I’ll know when I examine your cervix and your discharge, but let me just take a quick blood sample and send that off to the nurses just to be sure.”

He comes over to your side and takes your wrist gently, cleaning your skin with an alcohol wipe before drawing a vial of blood from your arm in the blink of an eye. It doesn’t even hurt, considering the fact that you are deathly afraid of needles, because all through it Namjoon keeps your attention on him with his gentle and soothing voice, and that charming smile of his.

“Let me get that sent off…” Namjoon is frowning in concentration as he scribbles something onto a label and sticks it onto your blood sample before he parts the curtains. A second later he is back again, and he positions himself in between your legs, a gentle touch on your calf. “Results should take about 20 minutes. Meanwhile, let’s see what’s going on here, shall we?”

“That fast?” You comment in surprise. From this angle all you can focus on is how the handsome doctor looks in between your legs, and his warm touch on your skin. “Wow. Technology sure is advanced these days.”

“Sure is,” Namjoon laughs in agreement. “Now just relax for me… I’m going to part your lips now and take a look.”

You can feel Namjoon spreading your lips with two fingers as he peers closely at you, and a heated blush is on your cheeks. You feel extremely exposed in front of this handsome doctor, even more so as his fingers brush across your slit, and you realise that he doesn’t even need any lube at this point. You’re about to hastily come up with some explanation as to why you’re this wet all on your own, but Namjoon saves you the trouble.

“Very nice, there’s some clear discharge indicative of ovulation,” Namjoon smiles as he gently collects some of it on his gloved fingers, showing it to you. “See how it’s so stringy? When I pull my fingers apart it doesn’t break easily. Kind of looks like egg whites.”

You feel his fingers part your lips again and this time, they are probing at your entrance.

“I’m going to slide two fingers in this time, it’s going to go deep so that I can feel your cervix. Tell me if you feel any discomfort, alright?” Namjoon smiles at you before his head disappears between your legs again, and two of his long, slim fingers enter you.

His fingers might have looked slim just now when you were eyeing them, but when they’re deep inside you, you feel a stretch that isn’t uncomfortable, but definitely something to get used to. Your instinct is to clench your walls around his fingers; at this point you just want him to stroke that special spot inside you. You can feel that you are drenching his fingers with your arousal, so there’s no pretending that you aren’t turned on. It must be because of your ovulation that you’re this horny just from getting an examination.

“Relax, you’re clenching really tight around me,” Namjoon’s voice comes off as a relaxed laugh, and you immediately make an effort to relax. “Has it been some time since you had intercourse? You feel really tense.”

“Um, no it hasn’t,” you say truthfully. “My- my husband and I had sex just this week. A few days ago.”

“Hmm,” Namjoon hums under his breath as he withdraws his fingers a tad. “Then you must be naturally tense. I need to examine your cervix, so I’m going to use a speculum. It might feel a little cold and the stretch might hurt a little, but bear with me.”

Namjoon pulls his fingers out, and your breath comes out all at once at the loss. He turns around and ducks out to grab the needed equipment, returning a moment later with a metal contraption. You’ve had speculums inserted before at previous checkups, so it’s no big deal.

He pours some lubrication onto the part that will be inserted in you, and you try your best to relax for him. With one hand on your inner thigh holding you steady, Namjoon slides the speculum into you, and goes deeper until it nudges at your cervix. Then, he starts to turn the screw on the side so that it begins to spread your walls open slowly, until he gets a clear view of your cervix.

Being spread apart like this and allowing someone else that isn’t your husband to see the most intimate parts of you only adds to the overwhelming rush of arousal that you feel right now. On one hand you feel incredibly immature, having a crush on your fertility doctor and wishing he would just help you with your problem personally, but the more primal part of you argues that it’s perfectly reasonable. This man right here is tall, fit and good looking, he’s smart on top of all that. Why shouldn’t he be the one to give you a baby?

“All looks great here, you are most definitely ovulating, _____,” Namjoon’s voice brings you back to the present. “Cervix is soft and open, so a donation today will greatly increase your chances of success. But we can discuss that more in detail when you’re more comfortable.”

“What do you mean? I’m perfectly comfortable with a thick metal rod in me,” your joke makes him laugh as he places a hand on your inner thigh, closing the speculum and removing it from you.

With some tissue he cleans you up, wiping away some of the lube and your arousal that had smeared on your inner thigh. His gesture feels so intimate and personal that you can’t help but feel the intense desire to feel his fingers without the rubber gloves, or to feel something else of his inside you.

Namjoon glances up as he disposes of the tissue. “I’ll give you a moment, I’ll just be outside and we can discuss the sperm donor that you want.”

He slips out of the curtains, and you pull down the gown, fanning your hot cheeks as you wipe the beads of sweat from your face. Getting down from the chair carefully, you push aside the curtains, leaving your skirt off as you sit in the same chair.

Namjoon is looking through a document. “Good news, the blood test results are in. You are, in fact at the peak of ovulation now. You came at just the right time, ____.”

“Can I really get a donation right now?” You ask as Namjoon turns to type something into his computer, having shed his rubber gloves.

“Of course! In fact, as your doctor I would highly recommend you do it today. If not, you would have to wait until next month,” Namjoon says. After a moment’s consideration, he adds on, “and since you told me you and your husband just had sex recently, it would be reasonable to convince him that it is his child you’re carrying.”

There is a weighted pause as the consequences of what you’re about to do sinks in. You’re at a fertility clinic, ovulating and about to receive a sperm donation from a complete stranger. Then you’re going to go home and in a few weeks, tell your husband that you’re pregnant with his baby.

You take a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll do it today. What are the options for sperm donors?”

“Here at our clinic, we use fresh sperm samples, we never freeze them. This is to allow for maximum success rate for our patients. I can open up the database of donors that we currently have fresh samples from, and you can take a look and choose from there,” Namjoon says as he types at his keyboard, scrolling through and clicking a few times. There is a slight frown on his face as he opens a few files.

“Is something wrong, Namjoon?”

“No, no, it’s just…” Namjoon pauses to type a few more things and hits enter with a look of frustration on his face. “It’s very strange. Somehow, our database only has one donor right now. I’m not sure if this is an error, because we ensure that we have at least 20 donors at any one time…”

“Who’s the one sperm donor?” You ask out of curiosity.

“It’s a Jeon Jungkook, 50 years old with a Bachelor’s Degree at… Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry…” Namjoon looks at your troubled expression and clears his throat, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I thought so too. Let me just make some calls and check if there are any other donors.”

The normally cool and composed fertility specialist looks a little frantic as he picks up his desk phone and starts to dial a number, but then you put your hands over his.

“Namjoon, it’s okay. I decided which donor I want,” you give him a confident smile as he looks up in surprise, slowly putting down the phone.

“What? You want… a 50 year old man?” Namjoon shakes his head in confusion. “Who graduated from Hogwarts?”

“No. I want you to be my sperm donor, Dr Kim.”

A shocked silence settles in between the two of you for a moment as Namjoon’s eyes widen. “B-but that would mean… your husband. You don’t want him to know right?”

“That’s right. I want my husband to think the baby is his. But in reality, it would be your baby,” you withdraw your hands from Namjoon’s and sit back in your chair. “To be honest, Doctor, I’ve been attracted to you the moment I walked in. I want my baby to be as smart as you. I hope you can give me a baby boy that will look exactly like you.”

Before the doctor can say anything else, you go on.

“You said you only use fresh samples here at the clinic right? Without any freezing,” you recall his words from earlier. “It’s just… today is the perfect day for me to get a sperm sample,” you direct your gaze at his lips with a small sigh as you say this, completely committed to your role now. “I don’t see why we should let this opportunity go to waste. You can give me a fresh sperm sample right here and right now.”

“_____, I- I don’t know what to say… your husband…” Namjoon fumbles over his words; he has trouble looking you in the eye. “A-are you saying you want me to inseminate you? Is that really what you want? Tell me.”

You stand up from your seat and make your way around the table so that you are standing beside his chair. “Yes, Doctor. I want you to give me the baby my husband couldn’t. I want to have yourbaby.”

You slide your body into his lap, feeling the crisp material of his dress pants on your thighs as Namjoon’s arms circle your waist to help you sit on him properly. His thighs feel firm under you, and his mouth is now dangerously close to your neck. You can feel his body is tense under yours, a sharp intake of breath at your words.

“Is that so? What an unfaithful wife you are.” Namjoon admonishes you, and his breath ghosts over your skin. “Asking another man to give her a baby. Tell me, has anyone other than your husband fucked you before?”

“No, not even once,” your breath is speeding up now as Namjoon caresses your waist tenderly, bidding you to spread your thighs slightly to get more comfortable on his lap. “I love my husband. I really do. But I just want a baby so bad. I’d do anything.”

“Who am I to deny such a beautiful woman the experience of motherhood?” Namjoon hums under his breath, kissing the skin just behind your ear. “If a gorgeous woman such as you says she wants a baby, then it’s my duty not only as a doctor to obey… but as a man too.”

“Please…” you can feel your thighs getting slick with your arousal, and Namjoon helps you onto your feet.

“We have to do this the proper way, to ensure maximum success rate,” Namjoon directs you to the chair again, and draws the curtains firmly shut. “Thankfully, you’re my last patient today, so we can take as long as we like. By the time you walk out of this clinic, you’ll definitely be pregnant.”

You lie back in the chair with his help, not missing the way his hands are soft and gentle, making sure your head is supported against the headrest, and your legs are comfortably spread in each stirrup. From your vantage point, you can see Namjoon begin to take off his white doctor’s coat and reveal his white dress shirt and black pants underneath, but you stop him.

“Doctor, please keep it on,” you say, reaching out to grab his wrist. “I always had a thing for the whole hospital fantasy.”

Namjoon relents, turning around as he palms the growing bulge in his dress pants. “Does your husband know about this… fantasy?”

“No,” you answer truthfully as your eyes drop to take in the tent at the front of his pants. “No, he doesn’t know. Doctor, why don’t you make yourself more comfortable? It looks like you haven’t been able to… let go of some tension for a while.”

“What would your husband say if he saw you now? On your back with your legs spread… about to get a baby fucked into you by her fertility specialist,” Namjoon tsks under his breath as he situates himself between your legs, stroking your thighs softly. “What a pretty pussy too. Just begging to be eaten.”

“He- he would never find out,” you gasp and your back comes off the chair as Namjoon’s head disappears in between your legs, and you feel his tongue against your inner thigh. His fingers spread your lips again the way he did before, and then he is giving you open mouthed kisses directly against your clit, making your thighs shake and tremble.

You can’t see anything with the gown in the way, so with one hand you push it up to your waist. Namjoon’s blonde hair in between your thighs greets you, but the man himself is busy stroking his tongue against your clit, your juices all over his chin.

“So fucking sweet. I must say, I’ve never had the privilege to taste any of my patients before, but I bet you’re the sweetest of them all,” Namjoon places his thumb on your clit in slow circles, making eye contact with you before his tongue slides into your pussy.

Watching your fertility doctor eat you out like this must be a dream, you feel as if you’re in heaven especially when Namjoon switches to suckling your clit, and pushes two fingers deep in you. His fingers are long and nimble, hitting your sweet spot exactly right, and the delicious friction from his mouth just about sends you over the edge.

But just before you feel the knot in your lower belly snap, Namjoon pulls away with a satisfied smile, licking his lips and wiping the back of his chin with his hand.

“No cumming yet. You’ll conceive better if you orgasm with my cum right up against your cervix.” Namjoon knows exactly what a tease he’s being as he begins to unbuckle his belt, lowering his zipper and feeling the immense pressure against his cock subside just a little.

The sight of his cock awakens your desperation all over again. He is blessed both in length and girth; you surmise that the fertility specialist must be just as excited to give you a baby as you are, seeing as his cock is already fully hard. You feel a flutter of nerves as Namjoon strokes his cock and positions himself in between your legs. Trying to remember how big your husband’s cock is so that you can compare it to Namjoon’s is futile. All you can concentrate on is Namjoon as he fondles your clit, pushing three fingers inside you to prepare you.

“Please, doctor,” you push your hips toward him as a protest. Your eyes lower to his cock, already red and leaking, wishing you could wrap your hand around him and feel how warm and heavy he is. “It’s been so… hardfor me to have a baby. Please help me and my husband.”

“Don’t worry, just lie back and let me do all the work,” Namjoon pushes his underwear down, giving himself a few strokes and hissing in pleasure. His cock is engorged and angry, precum already dripping from the tip onto your inner thigh.

You can feel the head of his cock nudge against your lower lips, and your stomach tenses in excitement of finally feeling him inside you. “You feel so much bigger than my husband… fuck. A cock like that is sure to give me a baby… not like my pathetic husband.”

Namjoon places his hands on your thighs, hooking them around his waist as he begins to push the tip of his cock into you. The expression on his face is strained, his jaw is clenched at your words. The lubrication of your arousal and his precum allows him to slide in easily, but the stretch makes you wince and Namjoon swears under his breath.

“Fuck, such a tight pussy. I suspected so when I examined you just now, but it seems like even the speculum couldn’t loosen you up enough hmm?” Namjoon pauses for a moment to give you time to adjust, even though he’s barely even an inch deep. “Looks like your useless husband hasn’t been fucking you properly, or else you wouldn’t still be this tight.”

“Please fuck me properly then,” you hook your ankles around his back in an attempt to get his cock even deeper. “Show me how much better you are compared to my husband. When he fucked me I could barely even feel it.”

“Oh, you’ll feel this one alright,” Namjoon agrees with a laugh and a deep thrust of his hips that sends his cock halfway into your depths. Your walls are stretched to accommodate him, but you only urge him on, anxious to feel him all the way. Namjoon accedes to your whines and withdraws just a tad, then fucks you deep until he is buried balls deep in your pussy.

Namjoon leans over the chair to smooth a strand of hair out of your face as he presses a hand to your abdomen. “See this? I can feel my cock all the way here. Could your pathetic little husband do this?”

The veneer of professionalism is gone now as the filthy words begin to pour from his mouth. His hand is on your lower belly, where there is a slight bump from his cock being so deep inside you, and you gasp when he brings your hand down to feel it too. Never have you been penetrated so deep before, and yet the thickness of his cock leaves you almost breathless as Namjoon applies a light pressure on your lower belly.

“This is where I’ll be when I cum,” Namjoon strokes the soft skin of your belly. “Right up against your womb. Giving you a nice load of fresh sperm. Unlike your husband, I am perfectly healthy to fuck a baby into you. No pathetic weak shots of cum. No, my loads are so thick, you’ll feel every spurt against your soft, ripe little cervix.”

“Fuck me please,” you are begging, the torture of just feeling his thick length embedded inside you without even moving is getting to be too much. You attempt to push your hips against him just to feel some friction, but Namjoon’s strength pins you down to the chair. “Give me a baby.”

Namjoon pulls out and sinks back in so fast that your thighs twitch around him, hugging him closer and begging for him to go deeper and harder. Slaps of skin against skin begin to echo around the room, and soon you can feel how wet you are, dripping down your ass and completely soaking Namjoon’s heavy balls that are slapping against you.

“Yeah? You want a baby?” Namjoon’s thrusts are heavy, punishing, as if you deserve it for being such and unfaithful wife who would ask another man to give her a baby. “Whose baby do you want? Your husband’s?”

His cock seems to be splitting you apart. Your pussy is crying for relief, yet you want more of his brutal fucking. Every thrust brings his cock head right to the entrance of your womb, tapping your cervix gently as he reminds you where his cum will end up. When you don’t answer, Namjoon stops thrusting as a punishment.

“Tell me, whose baby do you want?” Namjoon asks again, rubbing his thumb against your clit and making you cry out. “You want your husband to give you a baby?”

“No!” You scream, body thrashing under him, and legs tightening around his slim waist. “I want yours. I want your baby, Doctor Kim.”

Satisfied with your answer, Namjoon resumes thrusting, abandoning his grip around your thighs as he circles your slim waist with his hands to pull you onto his cock. “This flat belly is going to be so round. Even after you’re pregnant, you’re going to keep coming back here aren’t you? Because you can’t resist a good fuck, and no one other than me can give you that.”

“Please, pl-ease,” you voice is barely there, your throat is dry. “Please keep fucking me. Even after you give me a baby.”

Namjoon chuckles as his cock sinks in deep, and he feels your walls flutter around him. “I’ll consider it after sales service for my best patient.”

You can feel your orgasm right there, just out of reach. Your clit is swollen and abused, throbbing just for a little friction that would send you over the edge. Fucked out and completely at his mercy, Namjoon places your legs back on the stirrups, spread wide as they can go as he continues with his punishing thrusts.

“Consider yourself lucky, _____” Namjoon’s thrusts are faltering as he swears under his breath. “I haven’t jerked off in nearly two weeks. You’re getting a huge load today. I hope you’re ready to get pregnant.”

You watch his sweaty face as he pushes his hair off his forehead, glasses slightly askew. His cheeks are rosy with exertion, and you want nothing more than to kiss his plush lips. “I’ve been ready for the past three years, Doctor. I want it. Give me all your cum and give me the baby I always wanted.”

Namjoon seems to want to say something else, but decides against it as he devotes the rest of his energy into his thrusts, pumping his cock in and out of you as you feel him start to twitch against your walls. The composure on his face is slowly slipping away as he pants hard against your skin, leaning over to support himself on the arm rests on either side of you as he fucks you good and deep.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I can’t hold off much longer,” Namjoon is panting hard as he groans with exertion and pleasure. “Here it comes. Ahhhh, fuuuuck. Take it all. Take all my fucking cum!”

You gasp as he buries his cock to the hilt, feeling him hit your cervix hard one last time as he explodes. Rope after rope of warm cum drenches your womb, and you can feel his cock pulsing as he gives you every drop of his seed. After the first ten or so strong pulses of semen, it starts to slow down a little, and Namjoon thrusts in and out gently, making sure the last few spurts of cum still get as deep as possible.

It feels so wet and warm that you can’t help but relax as your pussy tightens around him to drain him dry. You can’t tell if Namjoon filled you up so much that you’re already leaking his cum, or if it’s just your arousal. Namjoon is still lazily thrusting away in your pussy, and his slower, gentler pace feels nice, but not quite what you need to reach your own orgasm.

After a minute or two, Namjoon slowly pulls out, making sure none of the cum escapes your pussy. He immediately reaches for a setting on the chair to tilt it backwards so that your hips are escalated slightly, and he secures your legs in the stirrups, making sure they’re still spread.

“We doing okay?” He comes over to stroke your hair and wipe away some of the smeared mascara on your cheek.

“I’m fine, doctor,” your eyes are closed and you are savouring the feeling of being warm and full of cum. Your pussy is still throbbing.

“Let me get you cleaned up,” Namjoon’s voice is soft as he moves away, fully aware that you haven’t cum yet.

To your surprise, a moment later you feel something metallic being inserted into your pussy again, and you open your eyes. Namjoon is back between your legs, and you realise that he’s putting the speculum back inside you and widening it so that he can see your cum drenched cervix once more.

“Just making sure you absorb all of that cum,” Namjoon reassures you with his ever gentle, reassuring hands on your skin. “Close your eyes and enjoy yourself, _____. Let me take care of everything.”

Namjoon positions himself so that he can see the flood of white cum coating your insides, and the pool of his semen just lying there. Your cervix is doing its best to soak it all up, but a little help wouldn’t hurt. Stroking your thighs gently, he places his thumb on your clit and rubs it in circles at the pace he knows you like, and sure enough, your body tenses up and your legs shake in the stirrups.

“You’re so close aren’t you?” Namjoon keeps his voice low, reaching for a medical sample jar that he had used to catch all the cum that spilled out when he inserted the speculum into your swollen pussy. He unwraps a sterile syringe to draw up the rest of the cum inside the jar. “Just need a few strokes to cum. Good girl. That’s my good girl… just relax and cum for me.”

His fingers speed up over your clit, and his eyes are drawn to the fascinating sight that is your cervix. With every tightening of your walls, your cervix is expanding and contracting, greedily swallowing down all of his cum so that the pool of semen inside you grows less and less. When you orgasm with a small whine of his name, toes curling and thighs shaking, Namjoon squirts the contents of the syringe into your womb, emptying it thoroughly as he drops a kiss on your knee.

As you calm down from your orgasm, Namjoon watches to make sure the pool of cum inside you is more or less swallowed down by your greedy cervix, before he unscrews the speculum and eases it out of you. He glances up at your face and your eyelids are droopy, chest rising up and down slowly as he helps you get your legs out of the stirrups and places them together on the chair.

“You did so well, that’s my good girl,” Namjoon comes around to kiss your forehead and stroke your cheek. “I think that’ll do it. Just rest here for a few minutes.”

“Come here baby,” you stretch out your hands for a hug, and Namjoon obliges. “How was that? Was my acting good enough?”

“Almost too real,” Namjoon admits with a laugh. “You really got me worked up there with that whole ‘my husband doesn’t know’ thing. When I said surprise me, I didn’t expect you to come up with such an elaborate scheme. I mean, you really went all the way with that roleplay!”

“So you were really shocked to see me walk in here?” You let go of him with a devious grin on your face. But then another though occurs to you. “Wait. 50 year old Mr Jeon Jungkook from Hogwarts? Did you make that up too?”

“Unfortunately I didn’t make that donor up. I think it’s a real error in our database. Probably some stupid young punk who wanted to make a quick buck and troll us at the same time…” Namjoon sighs as he shakes his head and adjusts his glasses, mumbling to himself about the calls he needs to make and the people he needs to sack. A second later, he frowns. “You’re lucky that you really are my last patient. And the whole ovulation thing- did you plan that too?”

“I thought you would have noticed since you got a notification about my ovulation on the app… but this morning you just left for work like normal,” you sit up in your chair and face him, watching his face dawn with realisation.

“Wait, that means… do you… really want to have a baby with me?” Namjoon takes your hand in his, barely able to conceal his excitement. “You’re finally ready?”

“We’ve been married for almost three years so if I don’t pop out like… ten babies for you, people are going to be doubting your capabilities,” you shrug nonchalantly, but there is a genuine smile on your face. “I’m doing it for the sake of your professional career, that’s all. And also, it’s nice to have a qualified specialist taking care of me for free.”

Namjoon is still shocked at your revelation, but he sees right through your wry comment. “I guess not everything in roleplay has to be just pretend. I’m Dr Kim Namjoon after all, and I always keep my promises.” He puts his arm around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head, one hand resting on your lower belly. “I might get you pregnant for free, but I charge for delivery.”

#bts #bts smut #btssmutclub #bangtanbookclub #bts namjoon #bts rm smut #bts namjoon smut #bts rm #bts fics

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bangtan-madi · 5 years ago

Text

All Of Our Lifetimes — Seven: Sleepless in Seoul

Pairing — Taehyung x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Taehyung, husband!Taehyung reincarnation au, lovers to strangers and to lovers again, established relationship, implied soulmate au

Genre — fluff, angst, crime (ish)

Word Count — 2.5k

Summary — Does love ever truly end, or does it simply take another form in a new life? The cycle is like clockwork: your lives end and you’re reborn again. You’ve lived it over and over. Each cycle, one of you loses your memories and is tragically unaware until the other finds and awakens their lover. After all these eons, all these lifetimes, is it possible to find each other again—even when neither of you awakens with your memories?

Part — 7 / 15

Warnings — none

Previous — Next

That night, sleep alludes you. You can't find it in you to close your eyes and quiet your mind for long enough to drift off. Instead, you lie on your back, stare at the ceiling, and wonder if Taehyung is doing the same.

When morning finally comes, the dawn stretching out her welcoming arms in the form of sunlight, you leave for the museum early. Even though you had promised to meet Taehyung at ten, you take the front steps two-by-two just before eight. The building isn't even open yet, and it won't be for another half-hour. It's something you hadn't considered in your sleepless and distracted state.

"You couldn't sleep either, then?"

Turning on your heel, you see Taehyung standing behind you. His usual disguise is back up; this time, the hoodie is dark blue and the mask is white. Messy, dark hair hangs just above dark brown eyes, the same ones that stare intently at you.

Offering a sheepish smile, you shove your hands into your jacket pockets. "I'm not sure I did at all, really. Too much on my mind."

"Me, too." Breathing a sigh, Taehyung turns and sits down on the stairs leading up to the front of the building. He looks at you over his shoulder and motions to the spot beside him. "I won't bite. Promise."

The concrete is cold underneath you, and the air is chilly. The early morning silence is a welcome void, and you sit in it with Taehyung for several minutes.

"I was up thinking pretty much all night," he states. You wouldn't say his voice breaks the silence; it's far too soft and quiet to break anything, even silence. It's gentle and deep, a honey-smooth melody that plays along with the quiet.

"About what?"

"Reincarnation." He shifts so that his elbows are propped on separated knees. His attention is on the conversation, but his eyes are elsewhere. "I don't know about America, but in Korea, it's something that we're told from a young age. It's always been a possibility."

"Really?" you prod, interested in the way he's grown up.

Taehyung nods, and a small smile slips onto his face. "My grandmother always used to warn me, 'Be good! Otherwise, you'll come back as a rock.' And when six-year-old me said that that didn't sound so bad, that it was better than coming bad as a spider, she'd turn to me..." He holds up a finger, waving it as if mimicking his grandmother. "And she'd say, 'If you come back as a rock, you might be dropped into the sea or left on top of a mountain. You won't have family or friends to keep you company, and you'll be there for a much longer time than a spider.' She'd always add, 'At least a spider has a job to do in its lifetime.'"

You can't help but chuckle at the way his voice fluctuates to sound like the woman he clearly admires so much. "Your grandmother is wise."

The brunet's smile falters a bit, and he lets his finger drop back down. "She was."

You gather from his tone that she's no longer with him. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he assures, shaking his head. "She was the best there was. I believe she's living on. I might not know where or when or as who, but she's out there somewhere." He turns to look at you, tilting his head slightly. "Do you believe life goes on, [Y/n]?"

Your thoughts shift back to the dreams you've had your entire life, then to the images on the museum walls, all while keeping your eyes on the man that's involved in both of them. Setting aside your upbringing and your family's beliefs or what your country by in-large preaches, how could you deny anything other than the fact that there is something that happens after you die?

Maybe not to everyone, maybe not all the time, but the evidence is piling up, and everything is pointing to you and Taehyung having intertwined past lives.

"Yes."

The conversation comes to a halt as a shadow crosses over both your figures. Taehyung's head moves swiftly to see who's behind you. His expression is one caught off-guard, laced with surprise and...fear.

The museum curator stands with hands clasped behind her back, a welcoming smile on her face. "Apologies, I didn't mean to startle you."

You stand and bow slightly as a greeting. "We're early. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," she replies, shaking her head.

Taehyung snaps out of his stupor, stands beside you, and mirrors your polite bow. "Sorry, I'm a little out of it. Didn't sleep very well last night."

Jwa Ji-yeong cracks a smile and tucks a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. "You did seem a little jumpy, and I figured a five-foot-even woman wasn't the reason." She gestures towards the museum entrance. "Follow me. I was just about to open up."

Taehyung and you follow the petite woman into the large brick building. The space is eerily dark and silent before she flips the switch and brings it to life. Even your soft footsteps echo down every hallway you pass on the way to the other side of the museum. As the lights slowly get brighter, they cast fewer and lighter shadows. Yet still, as you venture into the space ahead of the curator where she has yet to do the same, the art looks ghostly and almost sinister.

You force yourself not to look into the showroom that holds Winged Victory of Samothrace as you pass by. Your heartbeat quickens as you see the silhouette of the water fountain come into view. And you know that just beyond that is a gallery wall full of pictures of you. It's enough to make your head spin.

Instinctively, you reach out for the thing nearest you to steady yourself. Taehyung's hoodie sleeve happens to be that thing. You grip it tightly, focusing on the softness of the fabric and the warmth radiating off his skin. On anything other than your racing heart and sweaty palms, especially on the way such a reserved person doesn't pull away.

Keeping your gaze firmly ahead, you're relieved when Ms. Jwa diverts away from the water fountain and leads you to a section of the museum you've never seen before. Your visible relief doesn't escape your companion, the way your shoulders relax and your breathing comes easier.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, out of earshot of the curator.

Nodding slightly, you release his hoodie sleeve with a heated face and turn slightly away. "Yeah, sorry."

"Don't be. I'm a little uneasy, too."

Taehyung's next actions are the opposite of what you'd expect. His fingers wrap around your wrist at first, then slide down to brush against your palm. Eventually, his fingers lace with yours when you don't push him away.

It's impossible to explain the feelings that the simple gesture gives you.

"Where are we going?" Taehyung asks the museum curator.

Ms. Jwa stops in front of a service elevator, the extremely large kind reserved only for employees to transport pieces of art to and from storage. She slides her security pass against the panel. We hear an affirmative beep, and the doors part down the middle.

"There are some items in storage that I've kept for a long time," she replies as the three enter. After selecting the below-ground level of three, she turns back to you. "I promised you answers, and while I don't have them all, I have some."

"Why don't you just tell us?" you ask.

The petite woman shakes her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Trust me, this is something you have to see for yourself."

The elevator doors open a few moments later. Ms. Jwa steps out into the dark, reaching over to the side to flip on another light switch. She waves to you and Taehyung, signaling for you both to follow.

The third level of the basement is wide and expansive. A bit duller and grayer than the above levels, it reminds you of a storage facility or warehouse. Row upon row of boxes and crates fill the space. Large, florescent lights hang high overhead.

"This is where we keep our long-term items," she announces, and Taehyung tugs you to keep up. "Things that aren't always on display but we refuse to get rid of, nevertheless. It's also where I, as the Head Curator, can pick and choose those items I want to have on-hand for a future exhibit. In other words, I have a bit of lenience and privacy as to what I keep down here."

She walks up to a smaller crate at the end of the last aisle, one that's been here for a long time if the dust is any clue. Using a cloth from a hanger nearby, she brushes it off and reveals the label below. Briefly reading the tag, she smiles and taps it lightly with a slender finger.

"This is it! This is the one I was looking for."

"What is it?"

She turns to you, and her eyes soften. "This...This was an old friend's. I made them a promise that I would take care of their belongings if anything were to happen to them. So, naturally, after they..." She trails off. "It has all the answers I have. If you both want to take it to one of our art inspection rooms over there," she nods to a door at the end of the warehouse, "to look at what's inside, please go ahead."

"You won't be there with us?" you ask. "That's risky, leaving museum property to total strangers, isn't it?"

Ms. Jwa chuckles softly as she pats the surface of the crate affectionately. "You're not strangers. If you need me, I'll be on the ground-level taking care of a few things. The elevator doesn't need a security pass to go back up. So whenever you're done, you're free to leave whenever."

After she departs, Taehyung walks around you and picks up the medium-sized crate with ease. He nods to the back door, and you walk ahead of him to open it.

The inspection room is simple and clean. The beige walls are pristine, and the lighting in this space is much more cool-toned than that in the warehouse. A large table takes up most of the space inside, with tools and packing materials lining the cabinets on the far wall.

Taehyung places the crate on the surface and plops into one of the nearby chairs. "Can you find something to open this with? Maybe a crow-bar or—"

"—What about this?" you ask, pulling a large tool from the nearest cabinet.

The brunet tugs his face mask off his face, unwrapping it from around his ears and placing it into his hoodie pocket. At your suggestion, he makes a satisfied face and takes the tool from you. Silently, he places the slender end between the cracks on the crate lid.

"Who wants to bet that this is full of things that belonged to the other Kim Taehyung?"

"And his wife," you add. "Who looks like me."

Taehyung stops his movements, turning instead to gaze across the table at you. "We can stop right now if you don't want to go on. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to dive into this. Reincarnation, the possibility of it...it's not an easy one to swallow."

You shake your head. "No, I've come this far. If the answer is that I've—we've lived another life, trust me. I've thought of crazier scenarios over the years. I...I have to know. I'm losing sleep and becoming more consumed by this secret every day I'm in Seoul." There's a pause as Taehyung's eyes glance down at the tool in his hands. "What about you? Getting cold feet?"

"No, it's not that," he breathes. "I've heard about the possibility of past lives my whole life. If this is real...then there was another version of me living right up until my birth. In that case, the only reason I was born at all is that he died in 1995." He gives a small shrug. "It's an unnerving thought."

"I hadn't thought of that..."

Taehyung chuckles softly. "I bring up a lot of things no one thinks about, sorry if it made you uncomfortable."

"Not at all." Giving him a reassuring smile, you tap the wood to emphasize your conviction. "Go on. If you're ready, so am I."

Your companion takes a deep breath in to steady himself, straightening his back and shoulders as he grips the metal tool tighter. "Whatever we see, whatever we find out..."

You can see he's struggling to get his feelings across; a little crease appears between his brows as they furrow, and his lips purse into a thin line. In an attempt to put his restlessness at ease, you move your hand from the crate to cover his, giving his fingers a brief squeeze.

You lock eyes with his for a moment, and your smile widens a bit. "I got your back, Taehyungie."

The nickname causes him to giggle. You're relieved to see the edge wear away, shifting him back to a semblance of his usual, happy-go-lucky self. "You're only three weeks older than me," he murmurs. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Wouldn't dream of it," you retort with a sly side-smile.

Taehyung shakes his head at your amusement and turns back to the task at hand.

All smiles fall away when you recall why you're here, what you're about to see, and what truths might be revealed. It doesn't slip by you that his hands still tremble a bit, nor does it go unnoticed the lump that forms in your throat. No amount of teasing or flirting can make you forget that the items in front of you belonged to a couple who loved each other more than life itself, and who died because of it.

Those people were you and Taehyung. Twenty-five years ago, in another lifetime, you were them.

With a swift flick of his wrist, Taehyung pops the lid open with the metal tool. Dust and small pieces of wood are cast into the air, causing you both to cough and wave the debris away. He places the tool to the side. Each of you grabs a side of the lid, carefully moving it to the other side of the table.

Without any further delay, you begin to delve into the past.

Taglist — @just-call-me-trash-can, @jaienn, @happyhrsme, @butaes, @peter-pan, @twoteen-yup, @dreamcatcherjiah

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