#I wish that were hyperbole | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

worldsover · 1 year

Text

Transcendence/Pareidolia ft. Heejin

length ✦ 10k

genres ✧ it's a lot of oral, but hey, there's plot too; friends-to-lovers!Heejin

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Your fist clenches in a tight ball.

"If I die because of you, you better feed my fish."

"Die? You're being ridiculous," Heejin says.

You have a lot you could retort in that moment. Such as, "Me, the ridiculous one?" Or, "I'm being serious, I'm gonna actually die." Or, "You're actively contributing to the degradation of the meaning of language if you're claiming my suffering as ridiculous and assuming I'm participating in the honorable but currently inapplicable trope of hyperbole." All these things you can say, and you're without audible retort. This is the fourth time today Heejin's lips encircle your shaft; you were past dry by the third, because she would not let go of your cock for five minutes after your climax (because you didn't stop her).

Heejin's eyes beg, her lashes flutter, her tongue tempts, slithering, slick, and you think maybe you can spare her one more load.

Her mouth slips smoothly from the base of your cock to the head and then, pop. One big bubble of spit. She adds more, saliva foaming up on her tongue that's sticking out and toying with your tip.

"Don't die? Pwease?"

How ridiculous—or you could transcend to immortality at her behest.

All the while, she's sucking your dick in this bathroom like it's mere leisure for her. Like cigarettes to a smoker, she's blowing you like smoke, dirtying her throat, burning you up. Far past dignity now, the only thing she has between her knees and the floor is a bunch of toilet paper. The picture of addiction she paints is unfortunate and raw honesty and vivid contrast between such an elegant woman and such an inelegant solution to hunger. Despite how cavalier and practiced she is about introducing your tip to her uvula, Heejin will never give you a tidy blowjob. She salivates, every time, her tongue a wicked beast of its own, a serpent that can't lie above its love. And on the other hand, you can grumble and grouse all you want—if Heejin says your cock is going in her mouth, then…

You should've seen this coming like how you don't see yourself cumming because your eyelids are wired shut by the pretty agony of this orgasm. When you open them, her (fake, important to make the distinction) glasses are covered in streaks, her hands still twisting, tongue still licking your underside. Determination in her eyes says that every drop will be wrung out. It's possible this isn't leisure, but rather, business, and cum margins are getting lower as damnable inflation rises. She'll squeeze you dry for every last dollar of semen, no apologies to the sperm banks.

When Heejin is done, she sips on your cockhead, then a final kiss. You slump over the toilet and she pats your shoulder, laughing; it's a mean-spirited chuckle, but your dying wish is to hear that laugh one last time, so good on her for the penny of kindness she could spare like an insurance company donating to a hospital.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

"How could anyone love sucking dick that much?" Jinsol asks.

You look at Jinsol, then look at Heejin. Then, look at Haseul, and look at Heejin again. You've never gotten used to this dynamic. How much are you supposed to interject between three drunk girls talking? Are you meant to at all? The topic has already gone off-course, and there's no captain to steer the ship back when you're six bottles down.

Your eyes fall on Heejin, then Haseul.

"Oh, man," Heejin says, downing a shot. Her hand falls around her cleavage, as she feels the warmth of the alcohol envelop her and shudders, eyes closed. "Do you really want to get into this?"

Look at Jinsol and Haseul as they laugh, and you join in laughter, and you look at Heejin again; now, she's serious, rolled up her sleeves for good measure. Let's address the whole looking at Heejin thing, because it's so apparent, even to your drunk ass, that it must be apparent to the others too—you asked her out a while ago, first year of college, rejection, but you're still friends now. Then, despite that, she started getting touchier, somehow more flirtatious. Drove and drives you fucking mad. This little hangout thing at Haseul's place is a long ways away (call it half a year) from getting four oral sessions in a day, though you remember it as being a pivotal stepping stone to the routine.

Focus. You're always putting on a performance, and the actors of the nerves of your brain are having trouble getting the script from the filing cabinets. Question: is it more or less suspicious to allocate, say, three glances toward Haseul and Jinsol each to compensate?

"Sure," Haseul says, still giggling to herself. She's been doing that ever since asked the first question. "What's so wonderful about getting your jaw sore and your mouth dry?"

Heejin makes an angry noise and says through gritted teeth, "It's not about that, obviously. There's so much more to sucking dick than the…" She gestures with her arms, unable to find a word.

"Why do you like it, Heejin?" you ask. Everyone stares at you. "Sorry, nevermind."

"No, no, it's fine," Heejin says."Lemme just, how do I put this? It's like, when you're sucking dick, you feel like you're controlling the dude. You decide when he gets hard, when he gets wet, and when he cums."

"So, you're a sadist," Jinsol says.

"Sadist, my ass," Heejin retorts. "It's… empowering. Sucking dick is empowering."

Huh. The alcohol fizzles and dies in your mind, and Heejin's deep voice echoes in your head to take the place—oh, Heejin is fucking wasted, by the way. Drank as much as the other two combined, but still standing (sitting), but barely.

"Weird," Jinsol replies.

Haseul crosses her arms, facing Jinsol. "Hey, don't kink shame."

"No, no, you don't get it. There's another reason," Heejin continues, verging mad by now. Her cheeks are turning red. "Dicks taste good. Taste amazing, even. And… dicks have faces."

Haseul spits out soju. Jinsol coughs soju. You're lucky you weren't mid-drink.

"Dicks have faces?" Jinsol and Haseul say together.

"Y-yeah," Heejin says, her face flushed. "Dicks have faces. Like, if you suck on the head a bit, you can see different expressions. If you lick the underside, you can see them smile. If you swallow deep… they cry."

Your pants tighten. Somehow, you get it.

She says quietly and quickly, "Oh and also I like the taste of cum. Alright, fine, I really like the taste of cum." She gets louder. "Fine, okay, geez, I LOVE the taste of cum! Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Everyone bursts out in laughter. Heejin sips angrily on soju.

"Alright, Heejin," you say. "That was quite an enlightening explanation."

"Shut up, you," she says, sternly.

You gulp.

Haseul and Jinsol go get snacks from the kitchen, leaving you and Heejin alone.

"Dicks have faces, huh," you say.

"You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Not a chance. You know, no one made you say all that."

Heejin grumbles. You try to get closer, but she puts her hand on your thigh.

"You've got a boner," she says. "Stop."

"Wha? What do you mean?"

"Stop." Heejin stares at you with a serious face, contrasting all the redness in her cheeks.

You don't know where to start with a response.

"It's just, I don't wanna make things weird"—too late—"and obviously all this girls' talk has you riled up or whatever"—by the way, Heejin's hand is slinking higher up your pants—"and I know it's not your fault, but, we're friends, and I don't wanna ruin that."

"S-sorry."

"Good boy."

Heejin had to look in your eyes while saying that one, huh?

You clear your throat, and all efforts to tame your second brain fail. Another drink. It's agonizing, waiting for Haseul and Jinsol to return. Then, Haseul and Jinsol return. Snacks. Too little, too late. There are probably other conversations as the night goes on, but your mind is already spinning from the alcohol, spinning even further at dirty thoughts incepted by Heejin. Eventually, Haseul and Jinsol conk out, and Heejin helps you carry them to Haseul's room.

"Heejin," you say. "I can carry them myself."

"Yeah, I know. Isn't it usually Jinsol who passes out last?"

You would scoff at Heejin's remark, though with your mind elsewhere, you just nod. After you lay Jinsol and Haseul delicately on the bed, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, where you jerk off furiously. You've never tugged yourself without a video in tow or some other material to assist, and you've never felt this urge drunk, but the mere concept of Heejin sucking off your cock like she needs it is enough for you to cum. Mark this as the inevitable inciting incident: the door swings open as you pump your last shot.

You make eye contact. Heejin blinks. Cum flies.

"Uh," you say.

"Woah," she says.

You say nothing.

Heejin closes the door.

"Shit," you mutter and you've used too much toilet paper wiping down where you shot and you're fumbling and you almost trip over yourself and—goddammit, what the fuck just happened. Once you clean yourself off, you go outside.

Heejin is standing there.

"It's fine. Don't sweat it," she says.

"I… I don't know if I can. You know. If I can, like, not sweat it, fuck." You sigh. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing. Look, I'm gonna take the bed in her other room, you're fine with the couch right?"

You're drifting in and out of consciousness on the couch when Heejin shakes you awake.

"Huh?" you say.

"You know, I lied."

"About what?"

"Sucking dick having faces."

You blink. You rub your eyes.

"I lied. Dicks don't have faces. Cocks have personalities."

You're too tired to say anything. You just stare at Heejin. You smell a bit more alcohol on her shirt.

"Well, no, I mean, it's true, dicks have faces. But also cocks have personalities."

You think, but no words come out.

"The difference is, um, when a cock has personality, it has preferences and stuff. Like… preference for speed, depth, and tightness. When a cock has personality, you can tell when it likes and doesn't like what you're doing."

You nod off.

"Like, I could tell you would really like if I take all of you in my mouth. You definitely look more like an intimate, slow deepthroat kind of guy, you know, instead of the facefucking, gagging thing. It's like MBTI, yeah, that's it. Your cock is definitely an I, not an E. Oh, maybe a lot of tongue action? But not in the teasing the tip for the whole time sort of thing. Or, am I wrong? What kind of blowjobs do you like? Because you have the kind of cock I wanna tease, and the kind of dick I wanna kiss and why did you waste that load on a tissue, like are you kidding…"

Your eyes are closed.

A woman's deep voice. "Right. Well. Anyways, it's pretty late, and we're both drunk. So, uh. Good night. I guess."

✦✧✦✧✦✧

You wake up. Sunlight. Snack wrappers. Haseul and Jinsol nowhere to be found, or awake, rather. Heejin is next to you on the couch—no, you're hugging each other—actually, she's draped over you like a blanket, and your erection is pushing against her ass.

Heejin wakes up.

"Shit," you say, getting up. "I'm sorry."

"Didn't I tell you to... ugh, whatever."

You sit on Haseul's couch, rubbing the sleep and hangover out of your face, crust out of your eyes. You stretch, hearing creaks in your bones. Heejin sits up, looks forward.

"Last night," she starts. "I might have said some, uh, crazy things."

You snort.

Looking at you, she frowns. She doesn't seem hungover at all, not a bead of sweat on her forehead. Her hair is perfect, as are her pouty lips.

Your brow upturned, you scoff. "Like, crazy? That's one way to put…"

There's a twist in those lips now, like she's running it back in her head; now you are too.

"I mean—yeah, that's the right word, but..."

She's still staring at you, and your mind's really running in circles and sure she laid out the track herself but you could just run off it at any time.

Oh, you're following the track still? "It's, just, I'm, I'm sorry for, what I was, you know, doing. Last night."

Heejin sighs. "I told you. Stop apologizing. It's fine."

"Okay," you say.

You make an excuse to Heejin about getting home, despite wanting nothing more than to spend time with her. What's the point of hanging out when it's just going to make your crush on her worse.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

When you get home, you end up jerking off three times in a row in your own bathroom, but at least you aren't interrupted any of those times.

A few days after the party, you've been thinking about Heejin's joke a lot more than you should.

The worst thing is that Heejin is being all chummy with you again like nothing happened. You wonder if she's doing that on purpose. Either way, you've learned that you need to distance yourself. You've been avoiding group hangouts. You haven't answered your texts in a couple days. You've avoided the pet store the both of you always visit, instead opting to support local businesses like—insert large delivery corporation here (no free advertising)—for your fish food. This goes on for a week.

The week ends when Jungeun comes to your house.

"What?" you say, lounging, staring at air bubbles floating to the top of your little aquarium.

"Don't 'what' me," Jungeun replies through the closed door. "Open up."

"No."

"Look, I'm here because Heejin is really sad, and so Haseul wanted to know why you're not talking to Heejin, and I volunteered because I could tell Heejin really wants to see you and not just talk to you."

"Jungeun, I don't know."

"Listen. I'm not leaving."

Ten minutes later, Jungeun is eating potato chips in your room.

"So… why are you avoiding her?" Jungeun asks.

"What does she want to say to me?" you ask.

Jungeun pauses. "She… told me to tell you to go see her."

You sit on your sofa next to Jungeun, grabbing chips out of the bag. They're your chips.

"She didn't tell me to tell you what exactly it is, but it's important," Jungeun continues. "But honestly, what's been up with you?"

"Nothing's been up with me. I'm the same guy."

"That sounds like someone who has not been the same guy."

You eat more chips. "And how are things going with you and Jinsol," you say.

Jungeun stops slouching. "Hey, don't try and change the subject. For the record, it's been going fine, thank you very much."

"Sounds like you're still in the friendzone."

"You're the last person I want to hear that from."

"Me, the last person? I'd assume Jinsol would be the last person you want to hear that from."

"Fine! Just stop being a dumbass, okay? Heejin really, really wants to talk to you."

You put your hands up. "Okay. You win. I'll talk to her."

"Awesome." Jungeun looks down at her phone, then looking back up, she smiles. "Oh, by the way, Yerim just texted me, she finally finished exams for the semester. What if Heejin and Yerim both come over? We can get everything out of the way, two for one deal."

You sigh. "Yeah, I guess."

She pats you on the shoulder.

You feel no less comforted.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Two for one deal, your ass. You're pacing around your bedroom. Yerim and Jungeun are playing Smash in the living room, and Heejin is… somewhere, probably. The door is shut. All the noise in the world is muffled. You don't know what to expect. Obviously, Heejin needs to talk to you; you're her friend, one of her best friends, and you've been ignoring her for the past week. You sit down. Take a deep breath.

Knock, knock.

"Come in," you say.

You sit on your bed. So does Heejin. You look away. Look down. She smells really, really good, sweet and warm. You've missed her, a lot.

"Hey," Heejin says.

So she's talking first. "Hey," you respond.

You were already loosening up your tense shoulders, but Heejin says "So, Mr. Dickface" and you laugh and you look at Heejin, casually stunning in a simple outfit, a white tee, black shorts.

"Heejin, come on. It's been a week. I swear I would've forgotten if you didn't bring it up."

She pouts.

"Okay," you say, "alright, I would have not forgotten, fine. I still can't believe you. Dicks having faces."

She laughs now.

There's a lull in the conversation. The sound of Yerim shouting and buttons mashing is barely audible. You turn to face Heejin, and she's still looking at you. Her eyes are… soft, vulnerable. She's holding herself.

"Listen," Heejin says. "I'm sorry if I've been weird these past... mmm, months? I know you're not dumb, and I guess, I've been treating you like you are."

You whisper, "I am dumb though."

"No, you're not." She scoffs. "I'm sorry, seriously. We're friends. And friends don't lead each other on and play games"—the sound of a cheer coming from outside the room, definitely Jungeun—"okay, well, they do, but friends don't keep their friends wondering."

"Wondering?"

Heejin sighs. "Let me just get this off my chest. So, yeah, I like you. A lot. Obviously, you've liked me since the beginning. Or, well, loved. When you asked me out, I was excited and nervous and confused, but I... You know me. I've got a million things going on at the same time. Dating as a possibility didn't even cross my mind."

"Yeah. I get it. I don't blame you for that. I guess if we're both laying it all out, I get it. I swear I do. It's that dynamic that always fucks up a friendship between guy and a girl, and I think it's good we got that question out of the way early. But like, I was shocked, obviously, when you started touching me so much, holding hands, sitting on my lap, hugging me." You pause and look away. "It felt good, but it also felt wrong. Like you were playing with my feelings."

Heejin reaches out and takes your hand. "I wasn’t playing with you," she says softly. “I was playing with myself"—half a giggle comes out of you, adding some levity, and she smacks your shoulder—"No, not like that. What was I saying? Right, I guess I was trying to figure out what I wanted."

"Right." Your head hangs again. "So what? I'm just a bystander? A side effect?"

"Yes."

She laughs, squeezing your hand. You pout.

"I'm kidding. You're more than that. Way more. I've learned that much by now."

Heejin takes a long pause.

You can hear breathing, neither exhalations nor inhalations matching pace. It's tense.

"You know what else I learned? Because there's something else on my mind right now. Sort of, sparking in my head, shouting. I know we're having this whole heartfelt thing and I'm sorry for ruining it, but I have to say this because you have a boner and it's springing in your pants and I might be drooling or something—fuck. I've learned that I love sucking dick. A lot. Okay?"

This is the first time you've seen Heejin get so flustered, so bothered. So are you.

She isn't looking at you, yet she continues anyway: "Well. I have to be honest. That's all hypothetical. You know, I've never actually done it. I've just thought about it. A lot. And, obviously, you know, cucumbers turn to dildos and other toys and stuff. And then I saw your dick. And now I've thought about your dick and keep thinking about it."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Yeah." Heejin starts nodding, gaining confidence. "Yeah. I'm certain now. And please, don't think you're taking advantage of me or something, because you're not. In fact, I want you to take advantage of me."

Your breath stays in your lungs.

"How about this," Heejin says, leaning in more. "Do you wanna… fuck around? Or, well, I mean, that's a crass way of putting it. Be my partner in crime. Suckbuddy. Fuckfriend. Whatever you call it. No strings attached. You want a blowjob? You'll get a blowjob. That kind of thing. Even if it's not dating or whatever, we just do what we want to do and we can figure it out later."

Your smile grows slowly. "You know what? Sounds good to me."

"That's it? I drop all that in front of you and you're just, 'sounds good to me'?"

"Okay, fine. Here. I forgive you. That good?"

"Actually, that helps." Heejin exhales, a sigh of relief. "Great."

Silence. Cleared throats. The both of you sit closer now. Her knees bump into yours, and she giggles. She holds your hand. Your eyes meet. You're holding her gaze and her body heat is emanating from her skin and you want her, badly.

"You look handsome today," Heejin whispers. "Have I told you that lately?"

"No," you say, quieter, feeling meek. "You haven't. Thank you."

Her free hand brushes strands of hair.

"Your hair, so cute," she says, happily humming.

Heejin scoots even closer as her knee nudges between your legs.

"Nothing to say? Mm… okay. I have a question."

"What is it?"

Heejin kisses you, immediately catching your lips before you can breath, a taste of chocolate-tinged lip gloss, as her tongue mingles with yours. Her hand lays over your bulge, and her leg is still bumping into your crotch. She pulls away.

"Wow. You're kissing good," she says, flustered.

"No, you're better at it. Amazing. You're amazing."

"God, you're sweet." She laughs.

Your mouths are together again. You pull her into a hug, and she squeals.

"Woah there," she says.

"Sorry. Got a little excited."

"It's fine." Heejin looks away.

You squeeze her harder, and she squeezes you harder. You break the hug.

"Hey. How far," Heejin starts, "do you think we want to go?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, right now. In the moment. If I'm reading this right, and I think I am, you really, really want me. So how far? Are we just gonna kiss this time? Or do you wanna go a bit further? A lot further."

You freeze. "Honestly, you decide."

"You sure? Because, if I had it my way, I, um, I don't think I'll stop sucking your dick until Yerim finally wins a round and they wonder where the fuck we've been."

Your eyes are wide. "Y-you're really picturing that, aren't you? The two of them barging in while my cock is down your throat."

She does not reply.

"You are unbelievable."

"I can't help it," she says, almost whining. "You have the sort of cock I really want to play with."

You pull Heejin back into another hug, kissing her. She pushes you onto the bed and straddles your thighs. Her body heat, her scent, her hands caressing you. This is the first time you're feeling this much of her body against your own, and it's incredible. Even better—much, much better—is when she lifts up her shirt, revealing a simple, black bra. She takes her shirt off completely, and your hands grab at her stomach. How many times have you watched her do ab workouts for an ungodly amount of time, hoping one day you could feel her six-pack for yourself? Your hands then trail up higher, until you're grabbing at her tits, still ensconced within the confines of a bra, but her breasts are heavenly, perky, waiting to be squished and bounced on your hands.

Heejin has other designs for you: she grabs both of your wrists and pins them to the bed above your head. Your pants are tenting, and she grinds against your cock. You moan.

"I love seeing you like this," Heejin says. She lowers her torso onto yours, breasts spilling out of her bra a bit. She grinds harder, and you moan again. "You're so hot, and you're all for me. God, I wanna… fuck around so much."

She backs up, dragging her crotch down your leg as she descends. When she reaches your foot, she sits and puts it between her legs.

"Shit, Heejin," you say.

She bends over to kiss your neck.

"Your foot… feels good. I'll never say that again, so don't you dare make fun of me."

"Wouldn't dream of it. You can always tell me what you like."

She's rubbing her crotch against your ankle and taking your shirt off. Her lips move down to your nipple, licking circles around it.

"Your cock… feels big," she says. She grabs at it through your pants. "I'm so fucking excited for the real thing."

You've imagined this moment so many times. You'd fantasized about being pinned to a bed, about being teased by Heejin, of course, but you didn't expect, couldn't ever picture how she'd really sound, how she'd actually feel, how it would feel to be touched, licked, kissed by her. And yet here she is, biting on your nipple, moaning herself as she uses your foot.

She lets go. "Your… chest is so nice."

"Uh, thanks."

Heejin smiles and returns to biting, but on your other nipple instead. Her next pecks and licks are on your own abs, tracing over your six pack, following the ridges and dips with her tongue. She takes your waistband in her mouth. Slowly, she pulls down. You lift your hips, and then your pants are off. Heejin drags her cheek against your cock through your underwear, eyes closed.

"Your scent… is amazing." She licks the fabric along your length, where it bulges. "Mmm, this is what I'm talking about."

Your cockhead is poking out of your waistband. She kisses it, and then sucks on it through your underwear.

"Heejin, take it… off."

She stops, eyes wide. She pulls your waistband with her mouth, and you lift your hips again. She tugs it down, your cock sprinting out.

"Oh, wow," she says.

"W-what is it?"

"Your cock… is really, really gorgeous."

You gulp. "Thanks."

Heejin takes your cockhead in her mouth. You close your eyes. She swirls her tongue around the tip. She bobs down, lips wrapped around your shaft. Then, pop. She takes your cock out of her mouth, holding it in her hand.

"Is this… okay?" she asks.

"More than okay. Really, really, really okay."

"Good." She jerks you off, her spit easing the friction.

"Shit, Heejin."

"God, I love hearing you say my name."

She moves faster, your cock slick in her palm. She alternates between fast and slow. One second, she's going quick, and the next, her hand is barely moving, and your cock is twitching in her grasp. Her thumb strokes your underside.

"I… love teasing you," Heejin says. "I love making you beg for me to go faster."

"Please, go faster, then."

"You're so cute." She goes slower. You groan.

Heejin moves her grip to your balls, stroking your underside with her thumb again. Her other hand grabs the base of your cock. Her mouth returns, sucking on your balls. She's pumping up and down.

"Fuck, Heejin, please… go faster."

"Again."

You gulp. "Please, Heejin, go faster."

"Good boy."

Her hand speeds up. Your balls are getting sucked, her tongue licking around them, and her other hand is jerking, and it's like she's milking you. Your climax is imminent. You warn her.

"You're gonna make me cum."

Heejin pops off your balls and takes your cock out of her hand. She lowers her torso.

"I've been waiting so long for this," she says.

She swallows you.

Her tongue is slathering your shaft, and she's bobbing down, and her lips are tight around you. The tip of your cock bumps into the back of her throat. Her hand is caressing your balls. Her other hand is pumping the rest of your shaft. She comes up, taking a deep breath, and her eyes are watering. You wipe the tears away. She smiles, as if she's satisfied with having gagged on your shaft, as if she believes with her heart of hearts her own doctrine, and in such resolve of her mouth returning, you can't deny it.

Maybe her jaw hurts. Maybe her throat's dry. But you sense none of it. Deeper, you hit the back of her throat again, and her lips still curl up into a smile even through more tears. She's still pumping, and her other hand is pinching her nipples. Heejin moans. Her moan vibrates your cock, and her moan vibrates her throat, and her moan vibrates her tongue, like, holy shit, you've never felt anything better. And then…

"Heejin, I'm… cumming."

She stays down. You shoot. Her eyes widen. Another shot, and her eyes are closed. Another shot, and you're groaning, and her throat is swallowing. More shots. You're pumping Heejin full of your cum, and she's pumping you empty. Heejin, relentless, keeps sucking. You try and push her off, meteors dancing in your mind, but she won't budge. She stays down, her eyes still closed.

"Heejin, wait, wait, I'm so, so sensitive."

Heejin shakes her head. With her mouth still full, she says, "Wah, want… ahll."

You collapse. Heejin keeps sucking. Your cock is twitching in her mouth, and you try backing up in your mattress until you hit the headboard. You grip the sheets. You can't stop cumming. Every suck Heejin takes is another shot down her throat, each one joined by a satisfied "mm, mm", and swallowed without hesitation. You lose track of how many shots you pump into her. Even when you stop spurting semen into her mouth, and your orgasm is subsiding, Heejin stays down. She moves her lips from the base of your cock up to your tip, and she sticks her tongue out to cushion the underside of your shaft. You're shaking. You can't stop shaking.

"Heejin," you say—no, you gasp it; you croak it out; you despair for the name, "wait."

She does just that. Wait. With your cock in her lips like a popsicle, and she's waiting for you to melt. She breathes through her nose, humming to herself. You shudder. Your cock is still sensitive.

"Please… wait."

Heejin listens. She doesn't suck, and she doesn't bob. She waits. Your orgasm is over. Your mind is fading.

Pop.

She sucks the tip. Pop. She takes your cock out of her mouth, holding it in her hand again. Her tongue sticks out and licks up your shaft, where all the leftover cum and spit and saliva has gathered.

"Ahh." Her tongue is covered in white cream. A gulp. "Ahh." Her tongue is clean.

If you need a few more breaths, unfortunately you've used up all the air already, and you're just running on whatever other fumes now. "You… are insane," you say.

She giggles. "Was it that bad?"

"No, no, no, it was… the best. And the worst. A-are you gonna do that every time?"

"Do what?"

"Never mind."

Heejin crawls on top of your body. Your cock is nestled between her thighs. She lies on top of you.

"Did you like it?" she asks.

"Yes."

"Do you wanna… keep being fuckfriends with me? Suckbuddies? While I talked all the game about blowjobs, I wouldn't mind if you gave me a little oral service once in a while too." She says quietly, like she's felt bashfulness for the first time in her life, "And, I, um, am down to do more too. A little later. Or something."

"Of course. Yeah."

You wrap your arms around her.

"Good," Heejin says.

She kisses you. Your cum is on her lips, and she's sharing the taste with you. You taste yourself. It's nothing terrible, but she did gulp your load down without stopping, so, you can't fully empathize with her enthusiasm. Still, you reciprocate, savoring Heejin instead.

You hear cheering from outside the room.

"Think Jungeun won," Heejin says.

You snort. "Should we… go out? Pretend like nothing's changed?"

"I'm sure we'll figure something out."

✦✧✦✧✦✧

You and Heejin end up deciding not to hide anything, but not telling the girls either. They'd find out sooner or later, and besides, you'd both want to brag about it, eventually.

After the three of them say their goodbyes and leave your house, you head straight to your bathroom. You thought Heejin's lips fully drained you dry, but apparently not, because you shoot more loads thinking of how her throat swallowed you.

You receive a text from her.

> miss you already ;)

You smile.

> Miss you too. can't wait for next time.

Heejin sends a photo. A strand of spit falls from her lips, down to her cleavage. Your heart skips a beat.

> neither can i <3

You save the photo.

Your phone buzzes again.

> don't jack off to it though

> Too late.

You send your fingers and shaft covered in cum.

She sends a photo again, of her frowning.

> wtf!! that was my load! i'm gonna kill you!!!

You laugh and send a text with your other hand.

> Love you.

> lol yeah yeah whatever

You send another photo of your cock.

> another pic. As my apology

> wait.... didn't you say you just jerked off

> yeah?

> and you're still hard?

You gulp.

> guess so.

> you're such a stud. come over. i'll help you with that

You can't get dressed fast enough.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

You meet halfway. A park, late at night. Fastest option, you're both too horny. You and Heejin are behind a building, some sort of community center, too late to be open or for the sun to shine down on the two of you being so daring outdoors.

Heejin's lips are on your neck, bound to leave marks, but you can't find yourself caring. Her hand is massaging your balls over your shorts, her other hand is down your underwear pumping your shaft, and her thigh is grinding against your cock. She kisses you.

You grab her jaw and pull her off you. "Um, I'm sorry. I, um, I think we might wanna establish some ground rules or something."

She stares at you, wide-eyed. "Ground rules? Like, safewords and stuff?"

"Uh, I guess, yeah. I just… I don't know, it'd make me feel more comfortable if, you know, we had some boundaries."

Heejin sighs. "Fine. Fair. Makes sense, I guess. I'm not a huge fan of… talking about feelings and stuff, but, I get it."

"Right, so, um, obviously, no feelings, and, I dunno, no dating?"

"Yep. You can see other girls. I'll see other dudes. Nothing serious."

"Sure. Yeah. Okay."

Heejin continues pumping your cock. "Anything… else?"

You gulp. "Safeword, I guess. And, like, is there anything you're… not okay with?"

"Um, not sure. Never thought about it."

"Okay, well, what's a word you hate?"

"Hmm… dick."

You blink.

Heejin giggles. "Just kidding. Um, I dunno, uh, penis? Cock? Uhh… sausage."

"Sausage?"

"Yeah. Sausage."

You pause. "And if, you know, I can't speak?"

"Tap three times on me or whatever. Three for sausage. Sounds good?"

"Yep. Three for sausage."

"Great. Anything else?"

"There was one thing in particular I was thinking about. So like, one time, I nutted seven times in a day."

Her mouth starts to water. "Really?"

"Yeah."

Heejin pumps faster. "That's… amazing."

"No, but that's the thing. I gotta set limits, Heejin. Even this, third time, it's, it's a lot. Too much."

She frowns. "What, so… no multiple nut sessions?"

"Once a week. Maybe."

"Fine, fine, okay. Once a week."

"Okay, cool. Ground rules established. Sausage as the safeword. No dating, seeing other people. Three times for sausage. One nut session a week."

"Got it." Heejin resumes pumping your shaft.

"Hey, Heejin, um, what do you want me to… do, when you're blowing me? Anything you want? Because it feels like I'm just"—she gets on her knees—"kinda doing nothing and"—she pulls your shorts and underwear down—"you're doing"—she puts your cockhead in her mouth—everything, see!"

Pop. "Yeah. I dunno. Don't worry about me. Focus on yourself."

"Wait, Heejin, but, aren't we partners in crime, fuckbuddies, whatever, I wanna, like, make you feel good too."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Dickface." She jerks your shaft, and your knees buckle. You figure you might as well sit on the concrete floor, your back slumped on the brick wall. It's a makeshift position that you'll learn to get used to. She lowers her face to your crotch, then continues, "But don't worry. Feeling your cock cum is enough to make me feel good."

Heejin licks circles around your shaft, where the precum has gathered. Her hand is pumping the rest. Your cock is already twitching.

"Besides," she continues, "if you focus on me… we'd never get anywhere."

Pop.

She swallows you.

"Heejin, shit."

Her bobbing is relentless. She's pumping your shaft and massaging your balls, and she's deepthroating your shaft. Her spit is drenching your cock, and her lips are tight, and her tongue is slathering. Heejin's bobbing up and down, and your cockhead bumps into the back of her throat. Your balls clench. You shoot.

Pop.

Heejin takes your cockhead out of her mouth. Her hand is jerking, and the first shot hits her lips. The second, she opens her mouth to catch. The third, she closes her lips. The fourth, she catches in her mouth again. The fifth, she swipes up with her tongue. The sixth, she catches. The seventh, she misses, and your cum lands on her cheek. The eighth, she misses again, and your cum lands on her chin. The ninth, Heejin opens her mouth, and your cum falls right in. She gulps. The tenth, she misses again, and your cum lands on her neck. Heejin's pumping slows.

"That… was… amazing," you say.

Pop. "Yeah."

"Fuck. I'm just saying. Next time, I'm going to get a taste of your pussy." You open your mouth. "See, my mouth's watering just thinking about it."

"Yeah?" She jerks your shaft. Another shot lands on her neck. She wipes your cum and sticks her finger in your mouth. "You're adorable. But you're right. Next time."

✦✧✦✧✦✧

The two of you had ramyeon at a convenience store after, then said bye. Like friends. Just friends.

The next time is two days later, at night again. This time, you finally go to Heejin's apartment. You haven't been here in a long time, not since she moved in. It's cleaner than you remember.

"Make yourself at home," Heejin says.

You sit on her couch. She sits next to you. You kiss. Your hands are groping her breasts, and her hand is pumping your shaft. You lift her shirt, and her tits are freed from her bra. Her nipples are hard. You pinch them.

"Hey, wait, stop, stop," she says.

"Sausage?"

"N-no, I'm… fine, just, wait."

"What is it?"

"Um, so… I kinda… made a mess. Earlier."

"What… kind of mess?"

She giggles. "On my bed. You'll see."

Heejin leads you to her room.

"Holy shit," you say.

"Surprise?"

She's made a mess, alright. Sheets stained white, spots and splotches, streaks and trails, the whole nine yards. Your cock twitches, even if you're confused how one woman could make such a mess on her own.

"I was, um, thinking about sucking your cock all day yesterday. I didn't wanna touch myself, but I couldn't help it."

"I'm glad."

Heejin lies on her bed, pulling her shorts and underwear off. Her pussy is glistening. She spreads her legs.

"Come. Lick it."

"I've been waiting for this." You crawl on top of Heejin's body and put your face between her legs. You lick circles around her slit. You lick up and down her folds. "I don't exactly have toys to practice on like you... so I'm gonna need to do plenty of catching up."

"Don't worry. Practice away."

You lick circles again, and Heejin's quiet. You lick up and down, and she's quiet. You flick her clit, and Heejin's quiet. Your tongue is slathering her slit, and she's quiet.

"Wait, Heejin, is… everything okay?"

"Yeah. It's fine."

"What is it? Is my tongue rough or something?"

She looks at you. "Oh, no, no, not at all! No, it's, um, your technique's, uh, kinda lacking."

"Ah. Yeah, see."

"Here, I'll show you."

Heejin sits up and pushes you down. She's straddling your face.

"First," she says, "spread my… my lips. Like this."

She spreads her labia.

"Then, you wanna, kinda, stick your tongue inside, like, deep."

Heejin uses her finger to spread herself wider. You stick your tongue inside her hole.

"Now… use your thumb to, like, rub my clit, and move your tongue around. Like, you're, um, writing, something, with your tongue, I guess. Inside me. Like, a, um, circle. Shit, I dunno."

You rub her clit. Heejin moans. You lick circles inside her hole.

"And, uh, yeah, that's… about it. Oh, and, move your, your finger and thumb. Not at the same time. And I'll grab your hair and move you around and I guess just tell you what to do. And then you can figure it out after that, right?"

"Yeah. Got it."

Heejin lies back down. You spread her lips. You stick your tongue inside her hole. You rub her clit. You lick circles inside her hole.

"A little lower. And, and, like, lick, not circles, but, a, like, a line. But not a straight line. An, um, I dunno, a diagonal one. But not a diagonal one. A, uh, a curve, but not a curve. Um."

You lick lower. You lick diagonally, but not a diagonal. You lick a curve, but not a curve.

"There. Yeah. That's… good. Keep going."

You lick diagonally, but not a diagonal. You lick a curve, but not a curve. Heejin moans. Your tongue is still licking, and she moans, and her hand is on top of your head.

"Use your, your thumb, and, and, like, stick your index finger inside. Like, curl your finger and, and, find my, my, um, g-spot."

You rub her clit. You stick your index finger inside. You curl your finger. Heejin moans. Your tongue is licking diagonally, but not a diagonal. Your index finger is curling, searching, and you find her g-spot, a soft patch inside her walls. Your tongue is licking curves, but not a curve. Heejin moans again.

"Add… another finger."

You stick your middle finger inside.

"Curve both, both your, your fingers. Both fingers."

You curl both your fingers.

"And, and, like, twist. But not twist. Rotate. But not rotate. Uh, fuck, um, shit, I dunno, uh, fuck, whatever, just, um, fuck, uh, wait."

You lick diagonally, but not a diagonal. You curl both fingers. You rotate, but not rotate. While you're going through advanced mathematics under a tutor under a slightly lust-drunk stupor, you're starting to understand both sides more. On the one hand, your mouth is indeed going dry, and your jaw is starting to hurt. On the other hand, you're drooling. Whatever taste Heejin's pussy has is starting to get really addicting, enough for your cock to stay hard the entire time, enough for you to ignore the fatigue.

"Add… another finger."

You stick your ring finger inside, which immediately earns a moan from Heejin. Your tongue is licking curves, but not a curve. Your fingers are curled, rotated, twisted, whatever. Heejin moans again. You're rubbing her clit.

"Fuck, more, more. Rub my, my, rub my clit faster. Fuck, lick faster."

You speed up. You curl your fingers. You rotate them. You twist them. Heejin moans again. Her hand is tight on top of your head. Her body is trembling. You move your free hand and press it onto her stomach to keep her still. Your three fingers are thrusting in and out of Heejin's pussy, and her hips are buckling. Her walls are clenching. She moans, a final time.

Heejin lets go. You lick. Your fingers are thrusting. Your thumb is rubbing her clit. Heejin shudders. More gushes of cum coat your tongue and fingers. She's going to drown you. You understand how she made that mess. Your three fingers are pistoning in and out of Heejin's pussy as her climax subsides. More gushes. More. Less. Some.

"Wait," she says. "Hold… hold it. My spot."

You stop rotating, twisting, and whatever-ing. Her walls are fluttering. Your three fingers are still. Her girl cum is trickling out of her hole.

You take your face off Heejin's crotch.

"Holy… fucking shit," she says.

"Wild ride?"

"That was… amazing."

You flex your fingers. "Yeah. Didn't know you could squirt like that."

"Neither did… I."

Heejin props herself up. You stick your three cum-soaked fingers in her mouth. She sucks. She moans. You stick them deeper down her throat, and her lips are wrapping. Her eyes are closing.

"Thanks for… teaching me," you say.

Pop. "Mmm. Of course."

Your three fingers return to her pussy. You pump, and her girl cum is slicking your fingers. Heejin lies back down. Your three fingers are pistoning again. She moans.

"Wait, wait, sausage, sausage!"

You stop. "Shit, sorry."

"It's fine, it's fine. Just, sensitive."

"Got it."

Heejin giggles. "Sorry. Sometimes… I squirt a lot. Um. Overstimulated."

"Well, at least you know how I feel."

"Wait, was that a sausage moment, because I feel so bad and—"

You interrupt Heejin with a kiss. "No, it's fine. In fact, it was really fucking hot, and besides, I already told you about how much I can cum. Oh yeah, by the way—" another kiss, because there is no such thing as too many with Heejin "—I kinda wanna see the toys you were talking about."

"Really?"

"Yeah. If that's… cool."

She smiles. "Sure. Lemme, lemme clean up first."

"Alright."

Heejin cleans her bed with tissues, and you help her wipe up. Then, you head to her closet. She opens it, and… holy shit. There's an assortment of vibrators and dildos and g-spot stimulators and other contraptions and tools, almost an entire shelf dedicated to sex toys.

"This is… incredible," you say.

"Hey, um, by the way, could you, um, close your eyes?" she asks. "I, um, dunno, it'd… feel less embarrassing."

"Sure."

You close your eyes.

"And, like, turn around."

You turn around.

"Okay, okay, so, um, these ones"—you hear plastic tapping against plastic—"are just the vibrators. These ones"—plastic tapping again—"are the dildos. And then… um, these ones are for g-spots, and, and then there's more for anal, and then… um, I dunno, basically, um, the rest is stuff I've gotten on impulse because it looked fun."

You snort. "Impulse, huh?"

"Shut up. Um… open your eyes."

You turn back around. Heejin's holding a Hitachi wand.

"Okay, so, like, this, this is probably my favorite. Wand. Magic wand. And then"—she puts it back and holds a simple, white vibrator—"this is the, um, the next one." She puts it back and holds a curved, purple toy—"then this. Um… this is, this is the biggest"—she puts it back and holds a monster of a dildo—"um, and then, this is the smallest." She points to a cute, pink bullet vibe.

So many questions flood your mind, but the only thing you can blurt out is, "Impulse purchases, huh?"

Heejin shoves you. "Shut up! Um… and then, this"—black anal beads—"and, um, this"—clear, pink butt plug—"are for anal. Obviously. And then, um, basically, I've, um, experimented. A lot."

"Experimented, huh?"

She shoves you again. "Stop… saying huh!"

You wrap Heejin in a hug. "I'll say huh as much as I want."

"Whatever. Um… anything you wanna… try?"

You gulp. "C-could I watch you use them?"

Heejin steps away. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah. I mean, if you're comfortable. Like, right now. Or something."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

Heejin sighs. "You… absolute pervert."

"You're the one with"—you point to her shelf—"all that."

"Fine, fine. Um, sure. Which… do you wanna see me use?"

You gulp again. "So, um. You said you practiced sucking dick on one of them right? Imagined it was me?"

She rubs her thighs together. "Y-yeah."

"Which… was it?"

Heejin reaches for one. She holds a flesh-colored dildo, about the length and girth of your own cock.

"This one," she says.

"Then, that one, please."

She nods. "Okay… sit on the bed. Get comfy."

Heejin puts the dildo on her bed and closes the closet door. She undresses completely, tossing her clothes to the side. Your cock is tenting. She returns, picks the dildo, and then she lies on her bed next to you.

"So… you, you just wanna watch me use this? Suck on it and stuff?"

You nod. "Yeah. Please."

Heejin bends her legs and spreads her thighs. Your cock twitches. Her free hand rubs her slit. She's spreading her lips.

"Shit, Heejin, you're so hot."

"Thanks… pervert."

She sticks the dildo inside her hole, and you love watching how her pussy stretches for it. Especially knowing your cock will be doing the same soon. That image makes you harder, enough for you to pull down your pants and start jerking.

"Heejin, would, would you… talk? Your voice is so pretty."

Heejin blushes. "Thank you. What do you want me to say?"

"Just, like, anything. Tell me… what you're imagining. What you're feeling.. Your fantasies."

Heejin gulps. "Um, o-okay."

Her free hand is rubbing circles around her clit. The dildo is slowly pumping in and out of her hole.

"Sometimes, um," she starts, "sometimes I imagine… it's you. Inside me. Your cock. And, um, usually, we're, we're doing missionary, and, um, your hands are on my tits. Pinching my nipples. Wait, come here. Pinch my nipples."

You follow her command, sitting closer to her so you can grab a nipple with one hand while your other jerks faster. Heejin moans. You jerk faster.

"Oh, god, mmm. If I could keep your gorgeous fucking dick in my mouth all day I would. I'd suck it every second. God, I'd, I'd wake up to it. I'd go to sleep sucking on it. Hnnh. Your hands… are making me feel really good. Or we could cuddle and watch a movie, and the whole time you'd be... fuck, you'd be slowly sliding your cock in and out of my asshole. Mmnh. God, and, maybe we'd have friends over, and you'd fuck me from behind, and no one would know. Shit, especially when we're at Yerim's, you could take me to her really nice bathroom and rail me in her really nice shower. Mmm."

The dildo speeds up, and her clit rubbing is speeding up. Your jerking is speeding up too.

"Or we'd go out to eat, and, fuck, you'd finger me under the table, and then, and then you'd order dessert, and instead of eating the real thing, you'd feed me your cock, and I'd cream myself. God, shit, your hands. Mmfh. Or, or, sometimes I imagine, we're on the couch, and Jungeun and Jinsol and Haseul are hanging out, and they're just chatting away, and I'm sucking your dick, or you're fingering me, or I'm warming your cock in my pussy, and no one would know. Shit. Or they do know, and they pretend like I'm not even there on my knees sucking you off. Fuck."

You're about to cum. "Shit, Heejin, keep going, I'm so, so, so, so close."

"Nngh. And I'd even—wait, d-don't waste that cum yet." She takes the dildo out and moves closer to you. "Feed me. Put it in my mouth."

You do. Heejin's jerking the rest of your shaft, and your tip is in her lips, and she's pumping, and her spit is slathering. You groan, and she moans, and a shot fires into her throat. Her jerking doesn't stop. Another shot, and your mind is fading. Another.

Pop. She's gasping for air, trying not to spill the load as she speaks. "Ahh, waih, feed me, hah, some cum, wifh your hand."

You take your cock out of her mouth, masturbating some cum onto your palm. Once your climax eventually subsides, you offer your hand to Heejin, and she makes eye contact as she slurps up your seed and licks every joint of your fingers.

After she has every drop she can get in her mouth, she looks up, gargles, and then gulps. "Thank you for the meal."

You sigh. "Jesus, you're crazy."

"Only for you."

You kiss. "I'm honored."

"Um, by the way, can I finish?"

"Yeah, of course."

Heejin lies back down and picks the dildo. Her free hand is rubbing her clit again, and the dildo is pumping in and out of her hole.

"Hold on," you say. "Could I… use the wand on you?"

She stops. "Really?"

"Yeah. Unless it's sausage time."

Heejin giggles. "No, no, it's fine, just, um, lemme… get comfy again." She gets on all fours, and you move to a squat, holding the wand in one hand and the dildo in the other. "And, um, don't turn it on the highest setting. Not yet."

"Got it."

You stick the dildo inside Heejin's pussy and move the wand to her clit. You turn the wand on, and the sound of buzzing fills her room, followed by a moan from Heejin.

"Tell me more fantasies," you say.

She tries her best to give you everything she's thinking about, from bending her over the kitchen counter to tying her up and edging her, from fucking her mouth blindfolded to having a whole day where you fuck her whenever you want, free-use style. You're glad that she trusts you enough to share her kinks. You're looking forward to experiencing them someday.

Her dirty talking devolves into incomprehensible moans, and her doggystyle position is faltering, her face in the mattress. You stick the dildo deeper, and you turn the wand to a higher setting. She screams.

"Shit, sausage, sausage!"

You immediately stop everything. Heejin's trembling.

"Oh, god," she says.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Fine. Just, too much."

"Fuck, I'm so sorry."

"No, no, it's fine, just, sensitive. But you owe me."

"What do you mean?"

"Turn the wand off and give me the dildo. I'm going to cum with your cock in my mouth because that's where it belongs."

You comply, handing her the dildo and turning the wand off. Then, Heejin lies back down on the bed. You're uncertain about where to go, until she grabs your ass, pulling you to mount on top of her chest.

"There we go."

You look back and see Heejin starting to dildo-fuck herself again, and before you can look at Heejin's face again, she's already captured your cockhead in her lips.

"Oh, fuck," you say.

She moans. You jerk off the rest of your shaft, and she's moaning hungrily around you. Heejin's free hand massages your balls, and she pistons the dildo at a hearty pace, a loud, sloppy pace. As if she were imitating what your cock would sound like, if it were pounding her hole. Having painted a million pictures in your mind, and having heard her talk about so many fantasies, your mind can't help but fill in the blanks. The biggest blank is her throat.

"Heejin," you say.

Pop. "Mmm. Yeah?"

"Could I… choke you with my cock?"

She giggles. "Go for it, stud. Shoot it straight down. I don't care. It'll make me cum harder. I wanna feel my throat bruise."

You gulp. "A-are you sure?"

"Mmm. Totally. I'm gonna keep fucking myself and sucking you off and if I tap three times on you, then it's sausage time, and you stop choking me. Deal?"

"Deal."

Heejin takes your cockhead back in her mouth and moans. Her free hand goes back to your balls, and you place both your hands on the sides of her head. Slowly, carefully, you force her lips to travel past your tip, and to reach halfway down your shaft. Her cheeks are concave and your palms can feel her slobbering. Once she reaches your base, her eyes are watering. She looks up at you, her dildo fucking faster, her lips tight. You pull on Heejin's hair to move her head up. She moans. Her whole body is trembling again. You slam her head back down.

"Heejin, I'm"—she moans—"about to"—she gags, a broken vibration around your cock, and she moans—"cum!"

Her gagging, however, only urges you more to fuck her throat with your cock. Heejin gags again, and her throat walls are clenching, and a whole bunch of spit comes out, drenching your balls. The last thing you feel before your mind fades is her final whine, lost to the whole of her universe. Your spasms return, your hips shake, and this time, you see her whole body tense up—finally you and Heejin cum together, with her dildo ramming her hole and your cock ramming her throat. She's squealing and squeaking while taking your cock down to her base again, her gagging more persistent. After all her fantasies, the real thing is so much hotter than your imagination, and your brain starts painting new pictures on instinct.

Pop.

"Holy. Fucking. Shit," she says.

Your cock twitches out spurts of your seed, coating her face. Her dildo has disappeared from her pussy.

"I'm, I'm sorry, about, um, being… a bit too rough," you say.

"Are you fucking stupid?" she asks. "Do you have, do you have any idea how fucking hard I came? God, and the cum you're firing in my throat, thank you, thank you, thank you. Your cum is what gives life purpose."

You grin. "I'm glad you think that way. My cum was only alive because of your pretty little mouth, though."

Heejin licks up every streak and spurt.

You lie back down on her bed next to her. "Hey, uh, you… still owe me though."

"True," she says. "What do you want? Another oral service tomorrow?"

"Can't tomorrow. It's already one in the morning."

"Ah, fuck. Morning."

"It's fine." Your voice is meek. "Let's not do anything. For a while."

"What?"

"This is fun. And I'm sure we could come up with a million ways to jerk each other off with our hands and mouths and words. But, you were thinking it too, right? When you had that, that dildo inside of you. Fucking you. I mean, I don't, I really don't wanna pressure you, but I thought it'd be fun. You know. If we just held off of anything, sex, cumming, masturbating, all of that, and we just… wait. How about until your birthday?"

"What?! That's like, twenty days away."

"Exactly, once in a while we could do other stuff. Wouldn't it be fun to just get edged every day until then, waiting, anticipating, and when we finally do fuck, it'll be the best sex of our lives, the perfect present. I mean, you got yourself off plenty of times already. I bet you could go without a nut for a while."

"Oh, no. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

"And vice versa, I guess."

Heejin grumbles. "Fuck. Fine. Deal. But no matter how much I tempt you, no matter how much you tempt me, we're not going to cum. We're gonna edge each other. No matter how hard I suck. No matter how hard you thrust."

"Deal."

You shake hands.

"Um, by the way," she says.

"What?"

"You, um, you're a pervert."

You sigh. "I know."

"But you're, um, you're a pretty nice guy. And smart. And hot. Okay, that's enough for your ego, goddammit."

"Keep going, you're gonna make me cum."

Heejin grins. "Oh, that's all it'll take, huh?"

You kiss.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

You wake up on Saturday morning, having stayed the night at Heejin's place. The two of you have a breakfast of leftover ramyun, and you say goodbye at the door.

"Wait," she says. "Hold on. I forgot something."

You turn around. "What?"

Heejin kisses you. "Bye."

You return the kiss. "Bye."

You go home, and on Sunday, you wake up to a text from Heejin.

> morning. :)

You smile.

> Good morning.

You send her a picture of your cock, already hard in the morning. She sends a photo of her own pussy, spread open with her fingers. It's scintillating, dewy. Your cock twitches.

> morning wood?

> Yep.

> you know how bad i wanna suck that dick right now

> Yeah. I'm thinking about fucking your throat.

> godddddddd i love it when you say that shit

> Do you think you're gonna nut today?

> probably not. if i can't even last a weekend without cumming, i srsly need to reexamine my life

> lol. true. well, good luck.

> you too

You send a photo of your cock, with a drop of cum at your tip. It only took a token effort of stimulation to get a bead of pre-cum.

> wait were you fapping just now

> Yeah. Just a bit

> godddddd youre so bad

> Don't worry. I don't plan on cumming until it's inside you on your birthday :)

> fuck you

> I thought we were gonna save that for your birthday too :(

> shut up

You smile.

> I miss you.

> me too

> Next week. We can meet up. See how we're feeling about this whole thing. Maybe get dinner or something.

> like a date?

> Well, no dating. Obviously. Ground rules and all.

> "k fine. sounds good

> See you then <3

> yeah yeah whatever <3

You laugh. This is going to be fun.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Happy birthday to the best girl! Once again, this falls under my time-honored tradition of incomplete-but-complete-enough stories to post for some deadline, so I'm not bothering with crossposting (okay fine I am just too lazy).

#kpop smut #reader insert #male reader #loona smut #artms smut

1K notes · View notes

strang3lov3 · 6 months

Text

Invisible Line

Summary- Boundary after boundary is crossed when your boss is left with no choice but to share his bed with you.

Roman Roy x F!Reader | 5.8k words

Tags- one bed trope mothafuckas!! mutual masturbation, unprotected piv, cream pie, oral (f receiving), come eating, dirty talk, soft dom!roman, power imbalance, needy and desperate reader, light degradation, manipulative Roman, Roman’s not the nicest but he does let you snuggle him

A/N- This is my first Roman Roy fic, so please be gentle 🫣 I know he’s got his issues with sex, so just play pretend with me. My usual Joel readers, I haven’t forgotten about you, he’s cumming soon 🫡🍆 but if you were feeling so inclined I’d appreciate it if you gave Roman a chance 🥺🩷

I had a fucking team of editors for this fic!! Thank you thank you thank you @noxturnalpascal, @papipascalispunk, @beefrobeefcal and @pinkypromisepascal for polishing this baby up

Fic notifs, Masterlist, Ko-Fi

You’ll never get used to the type of hotels you now stay in. All the lights glittering, floors shining, ceilings so high. You’d call it luxurious, but to your boss, Roman, this is considered modest. You’re always reminded that you and he come from two very different worlds.

As his assistant, you’re accompanying him on his “bullshit amusement park safety meeting in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere,” as Roman had so graciously put it. He’s got such a way with words. He’s exaggerating of course, always so hyperbolic. You’re not in the middle of nowhere, you’re in Nashville, Tennessee. It’s early June and the air is finally beginning to cool for the evening.

“We’re fully booked,” the receptionist says to you after first explaining that no, there’s no mix up of sorts, you had only booked one room and not two adjoining rooms like you’d thought.

Just fifteen minutes earlier, you helped Roman with his bags and such up to his room. Roman carried the heaviest of his own bags to be a gentleman, call it his soft spot for you or whatever, but just to be a dick, still had you carry his briefcase that he was more than capable of carrying on his own. It is your job, after all.

When you arrived with him to the spacious room, decorated with abstract wall art and odd sculptures, Roman wasted no time in flopping on the single king sized bed. After seeing no door to connect to an adjoining room, Roman sent you back to reception. “Well, better figure it out,” he said, waving you away, his eyes never once looking away from his phone screen. “I’m set here, so thanks. You can go fuck off. Have a nice evening and all that. Enjoy masturbating in your crispy white bed sheets, courtesy of Hyatt hospitality.” Always so vulgar. You’re not shocked by it anymore.

“Nothing?” you ask the receptionist. “There’s no way. I just need a single queen, I don’t care what floor it’s on. Isn’t there something?”

“Bonnaroo,” the receptionist explains, once more typing on her keyboard to double check and see if there’s a room for you. “Yeah, I’m sorry, we don’t have any other rooms available. Bonnaroo weekend is always when we’re busiest. People book months in advance. I wish I could help you,” she frowns apologetically.

You’re not upset. It’s your own fault. And you’d seen Bonnaroo posters around the lobby advertising the shuttle that transports people from the hotel to the festival. And you’d seen the headliners, too. Radiohead, Red Hot Chili Peppers, LCD Soundsystem. Friday and Saturday tickets are sold out. You’re not surprised it’s all booked.

“No, I know,” you reply. “It’s my fault.”

You sigh deeply, and the receptionist types into her computer, prints a piece of paper and hands it to you. “This is a list of hotels nearby. Call around, they might have something.” She wishes you good luck, and you pull out your phone to begin making the calls, only then realizing your battery is at 2%. Now you have nowhere to go but back to Roman’s room.

–

You knock on Roman’s door and wait. Nothing. You knock once more, nothing again. You’re about to knock for a third time when Roman finally opens, his shirt a few buttons undone and his belt loosened. “What do you want?”

“Can you let me in?” you ask, “I need to use your phone, please.”

Roman’s taken some getting used to. You never quite know where you stand with him, what exactly he thinks of you. Moment to moment, you never know which Roman you’re gonna get – the flirting Roman, the occasional sweet and tender Roman, or the cold, sarcastic, uncaring and taunting Roman.

“Can you let me in?” Roman mocks, opening his door wider and guiding you into his room with his hand on your lower back. Taunting Roman. His touch makes your tummy flutter. Something about his unpredictability thrills you, excites you. You’re attracted to it, and you don’t know why.

Your phone charges by a nearby outlet as you sit at the desk with the room phone as Roman paces around, rifling through his suitcase to find his pajamas. They’re simple looking clothes, pale blue bottoms and a plain white shirt, but you know the cost of the outfit is equivalent to someone’s rent. He changes in front of you, something he’s always done. You’re not exactly sure why he does that or what he’s trying to do, but you do your best to not steal any glimpses of him as you begin calling the numbers on the paper, though the task proves to be difficult. Flirting Roman?

The first hotel on your list is The Hermitage, which is a bust. The Joseph is also a bust. Conrad Nashville, same deal. You’re keeping your voice as low as possible, hoping Roman doesn’t overhear your conversation. The last thing you want to do is give him more ammo. You sigh as you cross out the names on the paper one by one with one of the hotel’s branded pens.

Roman’s on the bed, smirking, rolling his eyes. You can see it in your peripherals. “You fucked up, didn’t you? Forgot to book yourself a room?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, now calling the fourth and final hotel on your list.

“You shut up,” Roman says. “Told you to double check.”

You wave a hand in his direction to quiet him. After asking your now three times rehearsed ‘Do you have any rooms available?’ and being met with an apology and a no, you reply to the person on the other end of the call with a “Yup, Bonnaroo, understood. Thank you.” Sighing, you hang up the phone and bury your face in your palms. You know what your only option is here, and you’re scared to look at it, to look at Roman. You know that even if you don’t verbally ask, your eyes will say it all.

Roman slides off the bed and makes his way to you, then nudges your foot with his own. “Am I doing you a favor tonight?”

“I uh…”

“Oh, of course I am. Good thing I’m feeling generous, huh?” Roman’s lips are curled into an almost-sweet smile when you finally look at him. “Bed is mine,” he enunciates. “You can take the floor, I don’t care. Or push those chairs together or some shit.” You look at the chairs he’s referring to and nod. Roman goes back to his bed, and you pull your own set of pajamas from your suitcase, then change in the bathroom. Once out of the bathroom, you push together the chairs that Roman was referring to.

“Oh god, I didn’t think you’d actually do that. No, no, I was just joking – we’ll share the fucking bed. Yeah?” Roman pats the other side of the bed. “I’m not cruel like that, Christ. Making me feel like some fuckin’ sort of - sort of sadist. Not gonna bite you.”

“Won’t you?” you tease.

That was the wrong thing to say. Your blood goes cold as Roman glares at you, displeased with your teasing. Reminding you of your place, that even though Roman can joke, make however many unsavory comments as he’d like, you can’t always do the same. Cold Roman. But then Roman cracks a smile, flashing his pretty white teeth and winks, his eyes sparkling. The boss-employee dynamic between you and him is always inconsistent, things going from professional to unprofessional, from friendly to friendlier.

He pulls the covers down the bed, once more patting the space next to him, indicating his invitation for you to join him. You round the bed and slide under the covers, the sheets feeling cool against your bare feet and legs. “You’ve got ulterior motives, don’t you? You fucked up the booking on purpose.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed. “No, Roman.”

“You totally did,” Roman says as you adjust the pillows behind you, “You’re trying to entrap me. You’ve weaseled your way into my bed so you can sue me later for harassment or some shit but I’m telling you, it’s not gonna happen. Trust me when I say that it’s in your best interest to behave yourself.” Roman drags his finger down the center of the bed, bisecting it evenly. “Don’t cross this line. Not even your fuckin’…pinky finger. Got it?”

“Understood, Mr. Roy.”

“Attagirl,” he chirps. “Wait, ew. Jesus Christ, Roman, you call me Roman. Not that Mr. Roy shit. God, that’s gross.”

You’ll take any chance you can to get under his skin after all he does to you. Flipping over on your side, you face the window and watch the city lights dance before pulling out your phone and silently scrolling through Instagram. Roman does similar, though he doesn’t reciprocate the courtesy of doing so quietly. He watches videos at full volume, shaking the bed with his giggles.

You shift to your other side, now facing Roman, who lays on his back. Your phone rests on the bed as you can’t help but admire how handsome he looks. You don’t often see him look relaxed like how he does now – how sexy he looks in those thin pajamas of his, his biceps toned and his bulge protruding from beneath the fabric of his pants. His usually sleek hair is slightly messy, and you wonder how those silky strands would feel between your fingers as you tug on them, with him holding you close in a tight embrace and his lips connected to yours, swallowing your moans.

You tell yourself not to think about it, about him. Don’t think, don’t think, god, do not think about him. Don’t think about his thick bulge or his hands or their wrinkles, the bluish-green veins that climb up his knuckles. Don’t think about his waist, don’t think about his soft tummy, or the thin line of hair leading down his groin and beneath his pants.

Roman’s looking at you, wearing that sly, cocky grin of his, pleased with the knowledge of what he does to you. He shuts his phone off and turns off the light on his nightstand, the faint glow coming from the open curtains now the only light.

He doesn’t take long to drift into a slumber, though you do, still thinking of the things you shouldn’t be. Images of Roman still dance in your mind for hours, you watch the time go by when you check your phone’s lock screen. You hear his voice in your head, that two word instruction from him playing over like a broken record. Behave yourself. And god, you can fucking smell him. He smells clean, like he always does, with notes of Caroline Herrera’s Bad Boy filling your nostrils – a cologne with a truly obnoxious bottle and an even more obnoxious name. Roman picked it out one time you were with him while he was shopping, just to piss you off. You’ve never hated the smell, though, and you love it even more on his skin. But he smells like sweat too, just a bit. So masculine and slightly musky, you can almost taste him.

Your hand has moved on its own accord underneath your shirt and between your breasts. You’re not sure when it happened, but you become acutely aware of it when your knuckles brush against your nipple and you gasp.

Roman stirs in his sleep, but he’s dead to the world. And you’re good at keeping yourself quiet – at least you think you are.

You turn your head to look at Roman, pinching and twisting at your nipples. Alternating between soft and hard, gentle and rough touches. Roman’s got his arm draped over his head, his palm so close to you. You imagine it’s that hand, his hand, squeezing and groping the soft flesh of your breasts, pretending that tingling feeling when you drag your thumbs over your sensitive buds is his tongue, all hot and wet. You let yourself breathe, the quietest moans escaping your lips.

And then you let your fingers dip lower, your fingertips skating down your body, feeling your sides and the soft curve of your tummy, your hips. Your hand goes lower and lower, your thighs parting as you find your core but not moving your legs wide enough to cross Roman’s invisible line. Tracing your lips first, your fingers travel closer to where you need to feel them the most. You’re wet, so fucking wet as you press your middle finger against your hole, collecting your slick and dragging it up to your clit.

You shift in the bed, spreading your legs wider and now circling your clit with your middle and ring fingers, dipping them into your entrance once more to gather your arousal and drag it up through your folds. Massaging yourself, you still pretend it’s Roman’s hand as you take in that sweet feeling that’s quickly beginning to build in the pit of your stomach. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each circle of your fingertips on your clit, fighting yourself to keep your hips as still as can be.

Romans voice startles you. “For a second I wondered if we’re near a fuckin’... earthquake, or uh– fault line or something, but you’re just rubbing one out next to your boss. Wow. Do you always shake the bed this much when you masturbate?”

You gasp, “Roman.”

“Or just when you’re next to me?” You’re not really sure what the right move here is. You could pull your hand from under your pants, but Roman’s already caught you red handed. Leaving your hand between your thighs is not the right move either. “Funny,” he adds, “I thought we just had a conversation about behaving. Didn’t we?”

“I know, I–”

“I mean, you get brownie points for not crossing the line in the bed, I guess,” Roman lifts the covers of the bed, then reaches for your knee and gently pushes it back on your side of the bed. “But you are crossing all sorts of other lines. You must think you’re sneaky. I heard you moaning, you know,” he accuses. He mocks you then, all snark and derision as he lets out exaggerated and breathy moans you’re almost sure you weren’t making. Roman, oh, Roman! Yeah, right there, Roman, please…

“Are you trying to get yourself in trouble?” he asks as he reaches for your jaw with one of his hands, turning you to look at him. He pinches, fingertips digging into the softness of your cheeks. No hiding now. “Is that what gets you off?”

“No,” you stammer.

“Liar.”

The air feels thick and Roman’s hazel eyes are dark, inky black, perhaps from the lack of light or maybe, you think, his own arousal? No, probably not. He looks genuinely pissed and you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, his intense gaze making you squirm. But you can’t seem to look away, either. He allows a silence to hang heavily between you both as he stares at you with a look in his eyes you can’t quite read. And that’s when you notice it – with the hand that’s not holding your jaw, he’s stroking his cock underneath his pants. You can see the bulge, the shifting of his hand.

“You’re touching yourself too,” you point out.

“Yeah, now I am. I’m a man. You made blood rush to my penis with your fucking moans and your Roman this and Roman that,” he huffs. Pulling down his pants and letting his cock spring free, he continues, “So my dick is hard. It should be your problem to deal with, but I’m bailing you out yet again. Always cleaning your— fuck,” he stutters, “Your messes.”

You have no clue what’s happening here. Roman lets go of his cock for a moment and he reaches for your arm, guiding you to start moving your hand once again. “Get it out of your system,” he says. “Go on. You didn’t have an issue fucking yourself next to me five minutes ago, did you?”

Cautiously, as with Roman you know full well that this could be a trap, you begin to move your hand with his guidance. “Yeah, good girl,” he whispers in a hushed, almost imperceptible tone, one that you probably weren’t supposed to hear. “God, I can’t believe you,” he says more clearly this time. “You better make it quick. We’re getting this over with, and we’re not looking at each other. Call it your punishment or something, just fuckin’— take care of yourself.”

Roman adjusts so he’s flat on his back and resumes stroking his cock. His eyes are screwed shut and you’re watching his chest rise and fall, fully breaking the rule he just set. But you can’t help yourself, he looks so gorgeous like this. His pubic hair is longer than you would have expected Roman to have, but gorgeous nonetheless. He’s not the longest but his head is wide and round, with thick veins climbing his shaft.

“You’re watching, you fucking creep,” he says in a breathy tone, his words slightly broken. He’s not looking at you, only at the ceiling above. “Breaking the rules. You have a hard time with that, don’t you? Look, I can follow rules. Why can’t you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit.

Roman rolls his eyes at that, then flips on his side to finally look at you. A flicker of what looks to be relief quickly washes over his features, but quickly disappears. He reaches for your shirt, hiking it up your torso and tugging – up, take it off. You do as he asks, taking off your top and exposing your breasts to the chill of the air in the hotel room.

“I hope you know that I’m not gonna touch you,” Roman says.

“I know,” you breathe. “I know you won’t, I just, I just…”

“Just what?” Roman asks, still stroking his cock. You take off the rest of your pajamas and adjust yourself slightly, then spread your legs wide, the invisible line be damned as your knees fall back toward your chest and you rub your swollen clit. God, how you need his fingers inside you. You’d fuck yourself on your own fingers, but it won’t satisfy you in the way you think Roman could. “Spit it out,” Roman demands.

Fuck it. You’ll deal with whatever consequences later. In the boldest of moves, you reach for the hand that strokes his cock and bring it to your pussy, guiding Roman’s middle and ring fingers to your entrance and pushing them inside.

Roman wears a twisted sort of smile as he curls his fingers inside you, now playing his own game with you. He taunted you with an accusation of ulterior motives, but it was all talk, like how most of Roman is. He suspected this before, but now he's certain: you have nothing but need for him. Amused by it, he’s now playing his game with you. As you moan for him he wonders, how much can he toy with you, drag this out? How much will you beg for him? Your hand is wrapped around his cock now by your own choice, he wonders how low will you sink, and how high will he feel by the end of whatever this is?

You’re inching closer to him. Desperate.

“Your hand is wrapped around my cock,” he whispers. “And you buried my fingers inside your cunt. Is something not clicking in that head of yours?”

“So good,” you breathe. You work his shaft, twisting your hand up and down. He’s thick, veiny, his head feels smooth in your palm. Roman’s touch is firm as removes your hand from his cock to hover it beneath your chin. “Spit,” he tells you. You’re so pliant, and do as you’re told, spitting into your own palm, Roman putting it back where he wants it. “Wow. I pull my cock out and you’ll do anything for me, won’t you?”

All you do is nod.

“God you’re soaked. Are you always this soaked for me? Just walking around all day, panties fuckin’ ruined?”

“Sh– shut up.”

Oh, you’ve still got some bite left. Roman wonders how quickly he can make that diminish. “Poor thing, did I hit a nerve? You wanna fuck me that badly? Are you really that desperate for your boss?” You say nothing, just inch even closer to Roman now. You hook a leg over his hip, moving your cunt towards what you need most from him, slowly guiding him in your hand ever closer to your entrance and hoping he’ll remove his fingers from you and replace them with his cock. And thank god, he does it. He pushes your hand away, gripping his member and notching the tip in your entrance. Fucking finally.

But he only collects your wetness on his tip, then spreads it down his shaft. He pushes his pelvis forward, rubbing his cock against your hooded clit and making you shiver.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he taunts, now dragging his cockhead down your dripping seam.

“Roman,” you whine.

“Roman,” he says, mimicking your whine, exaggerating how pathetic you sound. “Is that all you can say?”

“Fuck me,” you gasp. “Just fuck me, Roman.”

“Yeah, I know. You know my name and how to nag me to fuck you. I get it. What you’re not getting is that I don’t care. It’s not gonna happen tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after that… Just gonna fuckin’ play with you like this,” he hums, now pushing his cock up against your clit again, tapping you. “Yeah, you’re good. This is… this is good. I’ve been so bored recently, you know? Wonder what happens when I do this,” Roman stops tapping his head against your sensitive clit, now sliding himself left and right across your sex. He bites his bottom lip when you gasp and squirm.

“I wonder if I could make you come just doing this,” he muses, continuing to tease you. “I know I could. I could blow my load on your pussy right now and make you clean up a mess for once. Is that what you need? For me to show you what you’re meant for?”

Maybe, you think. Maybe not. You don’t know what you think. You need his cock. Roman pushes himself forward, fitting just his head into your hole again. And you think it’s coming, the fullness, the pressure, the ache and the stretch and the burn. He’s bent on his two prior rules, but compromise never comes. He doesn’t give in to you. Roman’s grinning, giggling to himself as he draws his hips backward, denying you. Watching how you struggle for him, how you whine and squirm and push your hips towards him. “Is it?” he asks.

“Fuck, is what?”

“Is that what you need?”

“Yeah, I need you to fuck me. Roman, please. Need it – need you inside.”

Roman pushes out an exhale somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Oh, that’s funny. That’s not what I asked at all. Is listening really that hard for you? What do they call that, tunnel vision but for hearing. Tunnel hearing? I don’t think that’s right.”

“I’m sorry–”

“Google it for me.”

“Roman.”

“What the fuck do you think I hired you for? Google it. For me. Thanks.”

Roman lifts his dick again, rubbing it against your clit and then lining himself up again, all as you scramble for your phone and quickly open Safari. ‘Funnel visipn bur for hearin g’ is what you type, the combined sensations of Roman’s teasing and the too-bright screen making your task difficult. “Audi-auditory exclusion,” you manage to tell him.

“Lemme see it,” Roman takes your phone from your hand, squinting at the screen. “Auditory exclusion is a form of temporary loss of hearing occurring under high stress,” he reads in his phony serious tone, still teasing you, bumping into your clit and then notching himself at your entrance, again and again and again. Giving you just a taste of what you know he could offer you instead. He’s opening Wikipedia now. “Auditory exclusion happens as a result of the physiological effects of the acute stress response, specifically an increased heart rate.”

“Fuck me, Roman, fuck me, please, I’m begging, please, please…”

“Begging’s nice, good. Very good. Very cute. But uh–” Roman points to your phone, “I’m busy reading here, so maybe quiet down. I really don’t want to hear it,” he laughs breathlessly, but nothing about this is funny to you. You’re in tears now. Tears of anger, frustration, shock. Roman lines up with your slick hole, just as he’s done repeatedly before. He notices your tears, “My god, you’re crying for it. So desperate, aren’t you?” he mocks your pout, wiping away your tears. You tell him you need him. “Need me? What a strong word. Yeah, I know that you need me. Message clear. God, you repeat yourself a lot. Fucking annoying.”

Fuck this. Roman’s still on Wikipedia and down some rabbit-hole not even related to auditory exclusion. He’s stopped teasing you, his cock just resting, nestled at your entrance as he scrolls. And you take your chance.

You reach for his shoulders and flip yourself so you’re above him, then sink down on his cock. Roman’s startled but he moans as he disappears into you and you sigh, finally feeling that stretch of his cock you’ve been craving since you don’t even know when – long before tonight. Roman watches where your body connects to his, seemingly shocked. He scoffs. “Oh, fuck you.”

Roman pushes your body off of his, he’s small but stronger than he looks. He flips you on your tummy and his touch is harsh but just what you need when he finally grabs your hips, placing his palm between your shoulder blades and forcing your chest down to the mattress. He was somewhat gentle when he was teasing you before, but all of that is gone now, as he lines up with your entrance and slams his hips into you, rocking you forward. He pulls out almost all the way before doing it again, harder. So many noises. You – gushing on his cock, moaning, crying out for him. Roman – his thighs slapping against yours, his grunts and his curses and breathy groans. The bed creaking with each of his thrusts. Roman fills you up better than you could imagine – fucking perfectly –hitting your walls, that sweet spot inside you.

“So fucking wet for your boss. What’s that say about you, huh?”

Roman grips your hips tight – too tight. He’s denting his nails into your skin and it hurts, his thumbs are digging into your lower back. There’s no fluidity to his thrusts, no steady roll of his hips. Just Roman, parting your insides with the harsh rutting of his hips. His heavy balls swinging, bouncing against your clit, his soft tummy warm against your back.

He sets a steady rhythm, a rhythm for his pleasure alone. Fucking you seemingly in two, exactly how you want it. Of course you want it this way. He can hear it in your muffled whimpers and cries, he wonders if the sheets are stained under your face, soaked with your tears. Roman holds your waist, forcing you up with your back against his chest. “Fuck,” you cry, and Roman wraps a hand over your mouth, the other is groping your breasts. Not that he doesn’t love the sounds you’re making for him, he just wants to give you another reminder of who’s in charge here – of how this is gonna go down, according to Roman.

He tugs your earlobe between his teeth, his nose nudging your cheek. His mouth travels lower then, he bites at your neck where it meets your shoulders, the stubble on his cheeks scratching your skin. He’s sucking at your flesh hard enough to leave a mark – for what reason, he’s not entirely sure. To punish and to hurt you, humiliate you, maybe even mark you as his. It’s possessive and primal in essence, how the way you need him so fervently makes him feel powerful in a way he often does not. And you’re not helping your case at all, with your squirming and your whimpers only egging him on. You tried to take what you need from him, but he’ll drill into your head that you’ll only receive what he’s willing to give to you.

He wonders what comes after this. If you’ll turn on your side in bed, leaking with his come and hiding yourself from him, or if maybe you’ll cling to him instead. He knows that he’ll lay next to you after this and wonder what you’ll be like for the rest of this trip. Will you be shyer, about the same as usual, or maybe even bold? He’ll experiment with you, see how you react to a cold shoulder or a shower of attention. See what you’ll do when he squeezes your ass, or when sitting next to him in the car, the helicopter, or at dinner when his hand finds your thigh and inches closer to your sex. Will you lean into it? Will you squirm and push his hand away?

His hands travel along your sides and down your torso, he can tell you’re loving his touch. You’re shameless in your reaction to him, your pussy squeezing him, your wanton moans. Curious, Roman reaches for your clit just to see how you’ll respond. He teases you, tries to write his name with his fingertips into you. Lewd sounds of skin slapping skin, the obscenity of your pussy’s slick noises. He’s not going to last much longer, that is quite clear.

He doesn’t care to try to make you finish first, as a gentleman should, although Roman nor anyone else would describe himself as such. You’re on his time. He knows how desperate you are to come, but he doesn’t care. He’ll get his first, something he doesn’t often get otherwise. And so his pace quickens, still biting and nipping at the flesh of your neck and shoulders. He bets that in all those late-night fantasies of yours about this moment, touching yourself in the dark, you didn't picture him being a biter. This much is evident with your pussy clenching on him and your short gasps showing your surprise.

He savors that feeling in every inch of himself – the power he holds knowing you’re aching not only to come on his cock, but to feel his touch, to experience him. It’s still just a game to Roman. Maybe it’ll always be a game. He’s not sure yet.

His cock twitches inside you, that warm and sticky feeling in his balls is beginning to crescendo. “I need to come,” you beg. “Roman, please make me come, I need-.”

“Shut up. I don’t care.” Roman fucks you with frenzied thrusts, and he doesn’t pull out to stroke himself above you, doesn’t ask you if you’re on the pill or if you want him to come on your ass or your tits or in your mouth. Roman shamelessly lets himself go and fills you with his hot spend. His noises are like music as he comes inside you, melodic grunts and moans coming from deep within him. And you take it all, everything he gives you because that’s what you’re meant for.

Roman takes heaving breaths above you, pulling out and his spend spills onto the comforter. He doesn’t give a shit. And as you collapse down onto your hands and knees you think that’s that, that he really doesn’t care. That all of this was probably about Roman savoring the feeling of having control over another person, and that dangling pleasure over her head is how he’ll get it.

Roman climbs off the bed and you’re trembling. He flips you onto your back, pulls you forward by your legs so that your sex is centered with his face as he kneels at the edge of the bed. His mind has changed quickly – first he wanted to know what would happen if he didn’t make you come. He thought next about eating you out from behind, denying you connection as he tastes you, buries himself in your most intimate place. But you’ve done well for him, and it’s clear that you’ll take what he gives you at any cost. Roman watches you with hooded eyelids, offering you that connection as he brings his face to your center, licking a thick stripe up your cunt. Call it his soft spot.

“Don’t say I don’t do anything for you.”

Roman dives back into you, and you hesitate before reaching for his scalp. Tentatively, you do it anyway, just to see if he’ll react. He might smack your hands away, maybe he’ll place them down on the bed. You’re sure he won’t hold them.

He lets your hands linger. Your fingers tug on those sleek strands of hair as he eats you, his scruff chafing your thighs. His eyes alternate between fluttering shut and peering up at you as dips his tongue into your entrance, licking his spend from your folds. He brings a hand to your cunt, two of his fingers pushing into your heat as his tongue dances circles around your clit. He’ll never tell you how sweet you taste on his lips.

“Yes, oh god, Roman.” He’s kissing your cunt, lapping at your folds, his tongue teasing all of that sensitive flesh. His fingers curl inside you at the same time he sucks your clit between his lips, making you writhe for him. “Right there, Roman.”

You’re not sure if he’s indulging himself or you at this moment. He eats you like a man starved, he eats you like it's his artwork. Nipping at your folds, his fingers inside you never once faltering their movements. You grind against his mouth as his tongue flicks and swirls. After all that’s taken place tonight, it doesn’t take you long to come. You bite down on your moans as pleasure washes over you, and you come on Roman’s tongue, gushing into the palm of his hand. When he’s ensured that he’s milked you entirely, he pulls away and takes his place back on his side of the invisible line.

Roman had wondered if - once in bed - would you cling to him or turn away, but he doesn’t allow you that choice. Instead, he takes your wrist between his fingers as he turns away, curling on his side, effectively wrapping your body to spoon around his. He keeps your arm secured firm under his, tucked around his torso. Tender Roman. You’re on edge, he’s been relatively quiet this whole time, and you’re expecting some snarky comment or a vulgar insult. “I swear to god, I will smother you with my fucking pillow if you snore,” is all he says. His threat, albeit baseless, comforts you.

#roman roy smut #roman roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #succession #succession fic #succession x reader #strang3lov3

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msschemmenti · 2 days

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one year down, forever to go

emily prentiss x reader

monday morning guest— part two

a/n: i’m actually very surprised how much y’all enjoyed the first part of this because it was in fact a crack idea i came up with randomly !! but here’s a second part and i apologize if it sucks i really had no clue where this was going <3

a/n to the a/n: also my requests are open if y’all wanna request something :)

“you’re married?!” garcia was the first to exclaim and emily sighed in exasperation. she eyed her chosen family and knew she wasn’t getting out of answering this. at all.

“Technically i’m divorced now.” emily grimaced as she watched garcia’s face contort further in confusion.

“How can this be? How did you get married and divorced within the hour? You know I thought we were done with secrets after you faked your death but i see I was wrong and you actually don’t love me.” garcia grumbled as she threw herself on the couch in disdain.

“Uh- Penelope, this is not the same thing. I found out at the same time you did.” Emily scoffed as she ran a hand through her hair. She lowered herself behind her desk and made to pick up a file, hoping the team would take the hint. Wishful thinking.

“Oh no, none of that. Spill.” Tara grinned as she perched on the arm of the couch expectantly. Everyone follows her lead in getting comfortable.

“Aren’t there some case files out there you should all be working on?” Emily groaned, nodding toward their desks in the bullpen.

“Sure, but this is far more interesting.” JJ grinned with a shrug.

“Yeah, if I recall correctly it was only a little while ago that you were hyperbolically recounting my wives. And low and behold, you’ve got a wife of your own.” Rossi goaded.

“How many wives are you at?” Luke asked, easily distracted but ever happy to be included.

“Not the point, Newbie. Stop distracting. We’re here to learn about Emily’s secret wife, not Rossi’s 6 wives.” Garcia chastised, turning everyone’s attention back to Emily.

“God, I’m not getting out of this am I?” Emily asked, and when everyone shook their heads her shoulders slumped, and she accepted her fate.

backpacking through Europe may have been her best idea yet, or so she thought at least. y/n didn’t seem to agree. they were nearing the end of their spring break and as beautiful and adventure filled as the days had been— the younger woman was ready to get to a hotel.

“em, if we take one more turn you’ll be carrying me back to civilization.” y/n groaned.

“back to civilization? there’s like 60 people hiking the same trail we’re on.” emily rolled her eyes.

“okay and? i haven’t seen a mall in days. i’m going through serious withdrawals.” y/n sighed as they did in fact take another turn.

“oh stop your whining, we’re almost at the hotel. i told you, we could spend half the trip backpacking and the other half in the lavish luxury you dream of so often.” emily smiled over her shoulder, reaching for y/n’s hand to pull her down the trail.

“i just don’t understand. your mother damn near begged us to use her hotel and resort recommendations and you want to be outside. in nature’s home. couldn’t have gotten that from your mom.” y/n lamented, putting up very little fight as emily guided her further through the park.

emily listened to her complain for most of the days they’d been out but she really couldn’t think of any other person she’d want with her. meeting y/n had been rather serendipitous. she’d just started her mastered at yale and moved into this astronomically expensive apartment in georgetown. and she was hell bent on supporting herself. so she’d found a restaurant looking for waitresses and put in an application. on her way out the hostess had changed and she’d rather dumbly stopped at the station with the application in her hand.

“hi?” the woman chuckled, eyeing the brunette curiously.

emily’s cheeks reddened under the woman’s gaze and she cleared her throat. “uh, hi. they told me to give my application to the hostess but i don’t see her anymore.”

the woman leaned against the hostess stand with a chuckle and reached her hand out to accept the paper. “that was nina, she works mornings. i’m the evening girl.”

emily nodded disjointedly and handed the application over, “morning girl is nina. so that makes you?”

the hostess grinned and leaned a bit further toward emily, “that makes me y/n,” y/n looked at the top of the application searching for a name. “emily.”

emily smiled and rubbed the back of her neck, “nice to meet you.”

y/n smirked as she eyed emily, “you’ve never had a job before have you?”

emily’s cheeks reddened instantly and she grimaced, “is it that obvious?”

“yeah sweet. it’s real obvious. but you’re cute, so i’ll put in a good word for you.” y/n shrugged and headed back through the restaurant with the application. emily’s cheeks felt like they were on fire but it only worsened when y/n sent a flirty wave over her shoulder before disappearing behind the bar.

and from that day on they’d been inseparable. y/n was working her way through law school and even after emily had been rightfully fired from the restaurant, y/n had become her favorite person. somewhere during the first year of them knowing each other they finally gave into the ever present flirtation and got together.

that’s how they ended up in europe anyway. emily was graduating in a few months and this was set to be her last big hurrah of freedom before diving head first into work. she’d sold y/n on the beauty of europe and also her company.

“i don’t know if i ever told you. but anytime mother and i were in france, i spent most of my time with my grandfather up in his cabin in the french alps. there was a 10-year stretch where he didn't come down off the mountain. he had no electricity, no running water, and his food supplies came from the land. those were some of my fondest memories.”

at emily’s explanation, y/n quieted a bit and leaned in to kiss her lips sweetly. “well i guess it’s not that bad then. as long as i can get you drunk tonight?”

“i guess. not like i can say no to you.”

“not like you ever have before. if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

and drunk they did get. so much so that they woke up with little to no memory of the night before. rings on fingers and heads pounding. they were married.

“So what, now you’re like Rossi? A profiler with a hot ex-wife?” Tara asked as Emily brought the story to a close. Emily glared at the woman but shrugged a little in defeat.

“well she didn’t seem too upset when she left. if anything she seemed eager for something…” spencer pointed out.

“that’s right boy genius, she thanked me. a scorned ex wife wouldn’t have done that!” garcia nodded frantically, pinning emily with a glare.

“well we are divorced. i signed the paper but while she’s in town, she’s agreed to let me make up for the twenty years of marriage i’ve missed out on.” emily replied, cheeks flushing as everyone cheered and whooped.

“when? where? what’s the plan?” garcia pestered.

“i don’t know penelope, she only just left. plus with our work load who knows when i’ll be able to actually take her out.”

garcia shook her head in determination, “mark my words, i will make sure this happens. i can smell a second wedding already.”

emily looked at the tech analyst in disbelief and jj seemed to get the hint. “alright cupid, let’s leave emily to ponder her date ideas.” emily gave jj a grateful look as she watched her corral everyone out of her office.

second wedding was a bit extreme but she really did hope between her and garcia’s wishful thinking that she’d be out with y/n very soon.

“took you long enough. i thought you might’ve changed your mind.” y/n grinned as the hostess brought her over to emily.

emily stood with a sheepish smile, it had been 3 weeks since y/n had popped back into her life and as much as she wanted to get their date on the books— serial killers really stopped at nothing. “trust me, if i’d had it my way we would’ve been doing this far sooner. but alas, serial killers don’t care about my social life.”

y/n laughed softly pulling emily into a hug, “well i’m glad you could pencil me in. between solving your murders and jetting all over the US.”

“you make it sound so glamorous.” emily chuckled, pulling the seat out for y/n and taking her own seat.

“well there is a sort of luxury involved with having a jet.” y/n replied with a shrug.

emily rolled her eyes affectionately, “sure, when you’re not on your way to a gruesome crime scene.”

“well you got me there, you always did have a stronger stomach than me when it came to all that criminal stuff.” y/n smiled as she pulled the menu open.

“you know me, compartmentalizing at its finest.” emily shrugged opening her own menu as well.

“ah ah ah, i was there when you invented that excuse. it didn’t work then and it won’t work now.” y/n tsked.

“you really haven’t changed.” emily smiled with a content sigh.

“you know what i always say, if it not broke—“ y/n started.

“don’t fix it.” emily finished just as the waitress returned to take their order. with orders placed, a bottle of wine poured they both settled into a familiar volley.

“so you seem to know everything that’s happened to me in the last twenty years but i’m a little in the dark.”

“well i only know what your mother knows, which im sure isn’t much considering it’s your mother. but i’ll bite. after you graduated, i finished out law school. i think by then you’d started you undercover work though. started working and haven’t stopped since.”

emily nodded, “right right, and you got engaged while you were married to me.”

y/n scoffed with a laugh, “hey! you’re one to talk, miss i had to be resurrected. my engagement— while short lived was a big mistake. i was young and tired of being alone. but as i said before finding out i was still married was the least of my worries then.”

emily nodded sadly, knowing the pressures of loneliness very well. “loneliness will do that. also can i just explain my whole death arc, so you’ll stop holding it against me?”

“absolutely, be my guest.”

“so there was this super evil guy, i went under and he kinda fell in love with me—“

“fell in love with my wife?”

“shh! yes unfortunately he did. well obviously he went down for his crimes but he escaped prison and came after my team. and he really wanted me dead and impaled me with a chair leg.”

“a chair leg?! you can’t be serious.”

“yes a chair leg, and he got away. so it wasn’t exactly safe for me to be living and that led to me faking my death. and spending my recovery alone in paris.” emily explained.

“well where the hell is he now?”

“dead. my team was very adamant about avenging my death.” emily smiled watching the younger woman nod in approval.

“good. nobody murders my wife and gets away with it.” y/n glared before winking over at emily.

both women talked over their food, flirting like old times, and really just enjoying each other’s company. once their plates had been cleared, a waitress brought out a slice of pie with the words “happy anniversary” drizzled across the plate.

“well well well, you weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to make up for those missed anniversaries.” y/n smiled, holding a spoonful of pie out for emily to eat. she accepted the offered sweet treat with a furious blush, but couldn’t help to think just how whipped she still was for this woman.

emily sighed happily, pulling y/n through the streets of dc. one of y/n hands was wrapped in her own while the other held a bouquet of flowers emily had purchased no their post-dinner walk. when they made it back to the parking lot, they reluctantly walked over to y/n’s car together.

y/n grinned as she leaned against the hood of her car, emily’s hand still in her own. she watched as a smile curled on emily’s lips and at the sight of that dimple y/n pulled her as close as she could out in the parking lot. “well em, i must say this was a rather enjoyable belated anniversary celebration. i can only think of one thing to make it perfect.”

“oh really, and what would that be? you know i’ve always strived for perfection.” emily asked, eyes flickering between y/n’s eyes and lips.

“you always were an overachiever. glad to see that’s still the same.” y/n grinned, pulled emily into a kiss that lit their bodies on fire. if there was one thing emily prentiss could do, the woman could kiss. and 20 years seemed to only add to her skills. y/n held out for as long as she could but when could feel her heartbeat in her ears she reluctantly pulled away to breathe. emily looked down at her smugly and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. boy did she miss that.

“next anniversary is on me?” y/n whispered against emily’s lips.

“well i sure like the sound of that.” emily agreed easily.

one anniversary down, only about 19 more to go.

#emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #emily prentiss #msschemmenti #criminal minds x reader

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syoddeye · 1 month

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consequence / hyacinth

price x f!reader | 1.9k words series directory tags: exes, angst, references to depression. a/n: an ex boyfriend. a story. a kiss. ☕

a surprise trap door. an errant self-driving car. a jet engine falling from the sky. anything to get you out of this.

hyperbolic? maybe. necessary? absolutely. forty-five minutes, and you haven’t gotten a word in edgewise. ben drones on about his studio and his upcoming exhibition. you brought this on yourself by doing the polite thing and asking him how are you?—lesson learned.

it hurts. it blisters to hear how happy and successful he is and how he’s moved on from the breakup. as if he didn’t leave you hanging with a dinner you couldn’t afford after admitting that he cheated. he hasn’t asked about your wrist, your old flat, or your art career.

eventually, he stands. sets you free.

“i should go, long trip home,” he says, eyes glued to an incoming text. “it was lovely to catch up. thanks for holding onto this junk for me.” he hoists the box off the seat beside him and tucks it under an arm.

you let him kiss your cheek. “yeah. of course.”

he doesn’t look back. you wish you could do the same.

you order another cider and resolve to not remain looking like the miserable slump you are.

~~~~

>> are you in town?

>> if you are, i could use a drinking buddy

john’s hair is still damp when he spots her at a two-top in the garden, nursing a cider. he waves, then ducks inside for his own drink. his head buzzes with whatever this invite means.

he checked with the florist twice to ensure the flowers arrived intact at her place. made the woman on the phone read back his apologetic note and bit his tongue when she reminded him it wasn’t her ‘place to say whether it sounded good enough or not’. he never heard if she liked them.

there’s a stiffness to her smile but relief in her voice. “you came.”

“‘course.”

“how’re you?”

in six words or less, he knows something’s off. he eases onto the seat, trying to exude a sense of humor and not telegraph his one hundred questions. “undercaffeinated, but i’m more interested in how you’re doing.”

“i noticed you hadn’t stopped in.”

“didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“about that. it was rude of me to kick you out without warning.”

guilt isn’t what he wants. he adjusts course to shoulder the blame. “i crossed a line.”

she isn’t having it. “please, it was rude. i know you weren’t trying to…”

“cross a line? overstep?”

her mouth wavers undecided between a frown and a smile. “you didn’t know. i could’ve explained. spare you £45.”

you. little.

“so you did get them. the note, too?” she nods. “then why the radio silence? hyacinths a bad choice?”

“no, they’re perfect. i just. i sort of froze. i had a rough couple of days.”

the hangdog expression she hides with the glass makes his chest hurt. “i’ve been told i’m a decent listener.”

“it’s a long story.”

“i got time.” he offers quietly. “just got back. caught me in the shower, actually.”

her eyes narrow, curious. “did you dress and come straight here?”

“well, it’s generally frowned upon to walk around naked.”

he beams at her laugh, her shaking shoulders. for a moment, her whole face lights up. it relaxes her posture as it peters off, leaving her looking less like a cornered mouse than when he initially sat down.

“so.” john pushes carefully. “the paintings.”

her smile lapses into something unreadable, a pause to find the right place to begin. her fingers trace the table’s grate.

when she finally speaks, she refocuses. meets his eye. good. he doesn’t want to twist her arm to get the story. the tale starts innocently enough.

the woman is hannah, her best friend and a ceramicist. they met on the first day of her mfa and were paired for the terms project shortly thereafter. they quickly became inseparable, until his girl met ben.

“i can’t talk about hannah without talking about ben. to talk about ben, you need context.”

john leans in. his thick eyebrows lift in a silent go on.

“they say it happens when you’re not looking, right?” you nervously laugh, smiling at the table sheepishly, unable to meet his eye. “well, i met ben at a networking event. last place i thought i’d find a date, rubbing elbows with alumni. but he introduced himself, said he liked my portfolio book. told me about his work and all these shows he’d done. he took me to lunch the next day.”

you wince at the memory, crystal clear and acutely embarrassing. how starry-eyed you’d been. your throat dries, sandpaper scraping down your esophagus at the thought of ben scribbling his number on your wrist. you clear your throat.

“then he asked me to dinner. during lunch.”

if john’s disgusted or disappointed, he doesn’t show it. his self-control is infuriating yet reliable. steady where you’re shaky.

why can’t i be like that?

you push on.

“without diving into minutiae, i eventually had to introduce hannah and ben. they hounded me, because if i wasn’t with one, i was with the other.”

“jealous of each other.”

“i think so. i agonized. they’re big personalities, i thought they’d clash.” you replay their first meeting in your head. you have a thousand times. “and they did.”

‘differing artistic opinions’ and ‘absurd expectations’ are the root causes of the squabbling she describes. her words, not his.

(he thinks of less charitable ways to characterize interpersonal conflict.)

barrages of text messages competing for her attention. underhanded attempts to get her to cancel plans with the other. emergencies that turned out to be trivial. guilt trips. one particularly ugly screaming match at a mutual friend’s birthday.

(if it were him, he thinks, they’d’ve lost privileges long ago.)

“it took weeks for them to come around to the idea of each other.”

“what was the catalyst?

“me again.”

john hums. he watches her rest against the back of her seat, her arms crossing and tightening over her chest. compressing herself as much as she can. embarrassment rolls off her in waves. he doesn’t say a word, afraid he’ll cut what courage she’s mustered off at the knees.

she has her own idea.

“can we—are you finished?”

his glass is two-thirds empty, and he polishes off the rest. a fist squeezes his heart when her lip twitches at his abruptness. she makes it difficult to be collected with his interest.

“where to?”

“where else.”

it’s a challenge, defending oneself from an insistent, bullying cat. cece shows no mercy.

“she likes beards.”

“does she see many beards?”

“just a theory.” she leans against the cushions, watching him and the cat, a glass of water held in both hands. “yours is the only one she’s tried.”

in the end, after negotiations, cece loafs between them. her purr a white noise.

“where were we?” her tone suggests she knows precisely where.

“the truce and you.”

her eyes find a spot past his head to rest. he’s tempted to tilt his head into her line of sight, assuming that nudging her on home turf’s a safer bet than in public. but the hesitant, almost imperceptible exhale that leaves her keeps him still.

“alright. so. me.” her chest expands with another sigh. “i was already struggling two terms into school. really struggling. when i applied, i had this clear vision, but then classes started, i met my peers, and suddenly it felt like everything i thought i knew just disappeared. nothing looked right, nothing felt right. i pulled constant all-nighters. sat through brutal critiques. i’m lucky i had thick skin from my job, otherwise, i might have dropped out to join a convent or the circus.”

immediately, his mind conjures the image of a tattooed nun, swiftly followed by a tattooed strongwoman. his lip quirks. he hastily buries what those do for him. later.

their gazes meet briefly to share a smile.

she licks her lips after a drink and sets the glass aside.

“they realized their bickering wasn’t helping, so they put their heads together. kind of forced us to become the three musketeers. they helped me where they could, and things smoothed out between them in the process. he found her ceramics shows to exhibit. let her move her wheel into our joint space. we were in close quarters, and i needed it. i needed them.”

a couch width is suddenly too far a distance with how she crumples. something difficult passes over her face, and she excuses it with a shrug.

“despite their joint efforts, i barely scraped by that first year. i was burnt out, miserable, and i spent two weeks holed up alone, trying to not go off the rails.”

oh, sweetheart.

“where were they?”

“hannah was visiting family stateside, and ben was traveling for work.”

not that his schedule allows flexibility, not that he’s behaved the perfect partner in the past—but john knows instantly that he would not have left her. he’d’ve been there. the more he hears about ben, the more he wants to meet him. come to a violent understanding. impart a lesson or two on loyalty.

“when ben returned, he told me he decided to move here to ‘reconnect with the country’. something about ‘capturing and celebrating the bucolic’. he wanted long-distance, but i, uh, i said i’d rather quit and move with him. we fought and he called in reinforcements. at hannah and ben’s…encouragement, i finished out the term. and it nearly killed me. as you know, i withdrew.”

john often reads between the lines. a vital skill, interpreting indirect and unintended communication. what’s unsaid. shame pulls her inward again, a moment where she seems smaller. swallowed by the enormity of whatever she doesn’t say. can’t say.

“i know they were disappointed. they didn’t need to say anything. hannah felt abandoned, and ben burdened by my tagging along. i got this awful feeling the morning we left and i ignored it. i was convinced leaving school behind and taking a break from art would fix me.”

cece stretches, stands, and allows herself to be scooped up.

she holds the cat under its front legs, bringing their faces closer together. “but it’s like that saying or whatever. ‘wherever you go, there you are’. i got here. settled in. and i was still a loser.”

it’s instinct.

“you’re not–”

she bulldozes.

“i started working at the café. ben booked murals. he painted the big one a few streets over.”

he’s familiar. “the one with–?”

“yep.” she releases cece. “he tried to get me to paint. he begged me. but i couldn’t do it. things took a turn last summer when ben won a huge job in the city, which snowballed into an invitation to exhibit. hannah got busy with the final stretch of the program, and couldn’t visit much.”

“so you were alone again.”

“yeah.” her voice thins, then breaks. “alone again.” she digs the heels of her palms into her eyes before a single tear drops off her lashes.

john’s beside her before doubt seeds itself in his mind. one arm gathers her to his side, his chin lifting then settling atop her head when she tucks closer. his other arm winds around her, and the slight tremors of her distress ripple through him. she’s quiet, not quite sobbing, but sucking in deep breaths. he rubs her back in a slow circle, murmuring nothings.

“what do you need?” he asks as she gradually stills.

she sniffs.

“sleep.”

without thinking, he kisses the crown of her head. “okay.”

john only catches a glimpse as she hands him a quilt. but he sees them. blue hyacinths, pinned and drying above her bed.

“sorry. this is all i got. you set?”

he smiles at her sweet, tear swollen eyes.

“yeah. i’ve got all i need.”

#price x reader #price x f! reader #john price x f!reader #john price x reader #loser barista

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