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hiraiologist · 3 months

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keep you in my mouth (and hope to never take you out)

hirai momo x f!reader

synopsis: at first it’s a party. then it’s a study session. then it’s like you’re addicted to her, and you find yourself caught up in everything that is hirai momo.

tags/warnings: ambiguous location but college/university setting, alcohol, drugs, parties, mentions of throwing up, smut (strap, cunnilingus, overstimulation, begging), fluff!, light degradation (reader is referred to as whore and slut lul), friends to lovers, switch!momo ??? idk but momo’s the best girl :]

a/n: i haven’t written for fun in… over 5 years? not since i was in high school… so i'm extremely out of practice SORRY! i’ve definitely regressed (T_T) i wanted this to just be a quick way to get back into writing, so its not all that articulate or anything. i started this last thursday when i was off work bc i was sick and bored, and i was gonna post it over the weekend but then with seollal and going back to work, i kinda forgot about it. partially ib my own college experience :p i feel obligated to say don’t do drugs and don’t drink underage but…! title from flashing room by 2am club. not proofread!

the resounding thump of the bass sinks into your skin, replacing the steady beat beneath your ribs.

you feel a body next to you—someone’s pushing past you across the room, their sweat smearing across your exposed forearm. it’s damp and uncomfortably cool, an off-putting and striking contrast to the heat of the crowd. you stop dancing and frown. you turn to your left, pinching a piece of your friend’s shirt between your fingers, wiping the sweat onto the dark fabric. chaeyoung stops moving to the music and swats your hand away.

“what are you doing?”

“someone touched me,” you wrinkle your nose. “it was sweaty.”

“so you wiped it on me instead?” the shorter girl glares up at you, though her eyes twinkle with mirth—or maybe it’s just the reflection from the led light strips on the walls. she pulls out her phone to check the time. “i need another drink before we go. c’mon, let’s go find tzuyu and dahyun.”

you shrug as the two of you link fingers and begin to find your way back to the makeshift bar for more drinks. you’re already drunk—yooyeon’s playing bartender tonight and you’ve been taking advantage of it as much as possible.

“ladies,” yooyeon greets as you approach her table. she spreads her hands over a few stacks of cups filled with red liquid. “what can i get you this time?”

the options are pretty limited. actually, there’s really only one option: a delightfully strong mixture of jungle juice made oh so lovingly by yooyeon and jiwon.

“you’re hilarious,” you say flatly as you roll your eyes at her. she just cackles and starts fixing up two new cups. “have i ever told you that you’re my favorite bartender?”

“that’ll break jiwon’s heart,” she replies with a laugh. “but i won’t tell if you won’t.” she holds out the drinks with both hands.

chaeyoung accepts one of the cups and takes a long swig. “hey, we’re actually probably heading out soon. going to a kickback with some friends,” she says to yooyeon. you take the other cup and swallow some of the jungle juice. it’s your third cup of the night, so maybe you’re just drunk, but it tastes divine. you’re pretty sure that, at the very least, it tastes better than the tequila shots you’d downed earlier with chaeyoung before leaving your apartment.

yooyeon pouts. “why?” she leans in towards the two of you. “don’t go. you guys practically just got here.”

you shake your head. “no can do. we promised jihyo we’d go to her place tonight.” on another night, you might stay, watch jiwon do a few lines in the bathroom, drink more alcohol until your vision starts to blur, maybe let yooyeon or jiwon—or both—put delicate hands up your shirt and leave bruises on your hips. tonight, though, you’re going to a kickback held by one of your closest friends, jihyo, and you’ll consume enough substances to ensure you wake up with your head pounding, mouth dry, body aching all over.

it’s going to be fun, you think to yourself. you chug some more jungle juice, finishing your cup more quickly than you’d intended. chaeyoung’s texting tzuyu, instructing her to meet you guys by yooyeon’s setup. as the alcohol sets into your bloodstream, your skin warms, a muted blush settling on your cheeks.

chaeyoung spots tzuyu and dahyun walking towards yooyeon’s table and waves them over. yooyeon pours two more drinks and offers them out to your friends as they approach.

“thanks yooyeon!” tzuyu happily tips her cup back into her mouth. dahyun does the same, though she only takes a small mouthful. you’re pretty sure she’s sober. you’ve been at the house for about an hour, but you know she’s only been occasionally stealing sips from everybody’s drinks instead of just getting one of her own. really, you’re a little grateful that she’s not drunk—you know that by the end of the night, most of you will be too inebriated to get home properly without help. dahyun’s always been a little less raucous than the rest of the girls, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. dahyun hands her barely-touched cup to you to finish and you flash her a playful grin with a wink.

“finish your drinks and we’ll go. i’ll go ahead and call an uber now,” dahyun directs while pulling out her phone. the rest of you nod and tap your cups together in a cheers. a few moments pass before dahyun slips her phone back into her pocket and announces, “okay, he’ll be here in… six minutes. jihyo said nayeon and mina are already there.”

yooyeon makes eye contact with you. “will you guys come back later?” her eyes are hopeful, bright—she’s more a puppy than a party girl. but you’d rather be with your other friends, so you just shoot her an apologetic expression.

“not tonight,” you shake your head. “but maybe we’ll see you later this weekend or something?”

before yooyeon can respond, you hear someone squeal from a few feet away. “guys! what are you doing here?” you all turn to find sana skipping towards your group, a huge smile on her face.

“sana!” the four of you yell simultaneously, pulling her into hugs with each of you. she’s beaming wildly. you didn’t know she was here; if you’d seen her earlier, you would’ve dragged her onto the dance floor and probably made her your drinking buddy. sana’s a little older than you and she’s infinitely cool. you’d met her at a party last year, where she’d pulled trig for chaeyoung after knowing her for about an hour. you’d all instantly fallen for her, and she was a welcome addition to your group. sana was confidence and optimism wrapped in sex on legs—but she was also undeniably cute, with her bubbly personality and squishy cheeks. she’d easily become one of your closest confidants, spending time with you every week, showering you with affection and giving you advice whenever you were struggling. her status as a social butterfly also meant that she has a lot of other friends, so your group of four—you, tzuyu, chaeyoung, and dahyun—had rapidly expanded to a group of ten, with sana bringing her best friend momo into the fold, then jihyo, mina, jeongyeon, and nayeon with them. but sana’s infinite list of friends turns her into a pretty busy girl, so when chaeyoung had invited her out with you all tonight, she’d politely declined, stating her previously-arranged plans with momo and jeongyeon.

“i thought you were hanging out with jeongyeon and momo?” you look at sana in excitement.

“i am! well, jeongyeon had to go home early because she’s got a test tomorrow morning, but momo’s here. she’s talking to yoona right now,” sana points a few feet away at momo, engrossed in conversation with another girl you vaguely recognize. “wait, this is great! we can all hang out!”

“actually,” tzuyu interjects, “we’re leaving right now. but we’re heading to jihyo’s! nayeon and mina are there right now. will you come with us?”

“i’m down, but let me ask momo,” she giggles before bounding towards the older girl. she taps the girl on the shoulder and yoona offers them both a wave, walking off to find her friends in another room. sana starts to talk to momo; after a moment, she points over at your group and momo turns to glance at you all. her gaze seems to drag over you slowly. then she looks back at sana and says something, prompting sana to grin and tug at her arm, dragging the girl towards you. dahyun, chaeyoung, and tzuyu all give her a quick hug and big smiles.

momo pulls you into a hug last, her firm arms wrapped around you tightly as sana exclaims, “momo said she’s down to go to jihyo’s!”

“we should probably head outside, then,” dahyun suggests. “it would suck if we missed our uber.” you all nod and start to find your way to the door. you quickly turn towards yooyeon and send her a wave. the girl perks up and shoots you a smile before you turn back around and follow chaeyoung out the house to the front.

you all stand outside, chatting idly amongst yourselves as dahyun watches for the right car to pull up. eventually, she spots what must be your uber and walks up to the vehicle, waving at the driver as they roll down their window. the rest of you trail behind her.

“for dahyun?” when the driver nods, she continues, “uh, so we have six people, actually. is that okay?” dahyun smiles sheepishly at the uber driver and bites her lip. he looks at you all warily and sighs.

“yeah, sure. it’s not like we’re going very far, i guess.”

tzuyu climbs into the passenger seat while chaeyoung scoots into the middle seat in the back. dahyun takes the seat to the right of chaeyoung, with sana climbing into her lap naturally. you quickly realize your predicament as the rest of the girls settle into the uber. you turn to momo and say, “you can sit on me. if that’s okay.”

the girl’s cheeks instantly turn the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen. “oh! um, okay. sure. thanks.”

you open the door on the left and climb into the last seat. once you’re seated, you look back at momo and smile. she quickly gets in, sitting awkwardly on your lap. you reach for the door handle with one hand, close the door, then snake your hand around the girl’s waist, pulling her towards you more tightly. she squeaks a little, but shifts her body more to settle comfortably against you. your uber driver eyes you all in the backseat with a tired expression before driving off slowly.

“this top looks really good on you, by the way,” you say, lips twitching into a small grin. you play a little with the ends of her hair before dropping your fingers to brush along her shirt. she stares at the floor.

“thanks,” she replies quietly. her cheeks are red when she looks up and her eyes dart away when she notices you’re looking at her face.

the rest of the ride is filled by your friends’ conversations and your driver’s playlist coming low through the speakers of the car, your fingers rubbing circles into momo’s hip soothingly as you feel her take quiet, even breaths. you’re almost disappointed when the uber stops in front of jihyo’s apartment.

when you arrive at jihyo’s door, jihyo welcomes you all with a hug and ushers you inside. she leads you to the kitchen, where nayeon and mina are chatting next to the table covered with an array of drinks. you greet nayeon and mina with hugs as well, chatting with them for a minute before you decide to make a few cherry bombs for everyone. the girls seem to have found their spots in the apartment: tzuyu, dahyun, and chaeyoung are sitting on the floor in jihyo’s living room while sana and momo fumble with jihyo’s speaker system, squabbling over jihyo’s phone to try to queue up a few more songs. nayeon, jihyo, and mina continue to chat while they watch you in the kitchen as you mix cherry vodka with redbull. when you’ve prepared a few shot glasses, you offer them to nayeon and jihyo, knowing mina won’t be drinking. you all quickly down your shots and nayeon and jihyo excuse themselves to go find a game to play, leaving you in the kitchen with mina. she offers to take two of the shots over to sana and momo, and you agree. you grab the remaining three shots, find dahyun, chaeyoung, and tzuyu in the living room, and watch as they knock back their cherry bombs.

you plop down on the floor next to chaeyoung, letting out an excited giggle when she produces a small tin from her pocket and pulls out a perfectly rolled joint. as she lights it and begins to take a hit, you look towards the speaker where you spot sana and momo laughing with mina. you observe them for a moment before you feel chaeyoung tapping at your shoulder, offering you the joint. you take a hit and hand it back to chaeyoung. dahyun and tzuyu get up; you vaguely register them saying something about finding some ping pong balls. you and chaeyoung chat quietly, asking “would you rather” questions, passing the joint back and forth until eventually it’s reduced to nothing and you’re forced to stub it out. by now, the combination of the weed and alcohol has you feeling light and slightly dizzy, but it’s pleasant and you’re smiling a little dopily. chaeyoung pulls you up with her when she sees tzuyu across the room, setting up a table to play beer pong.

“tzu! i wanna play!” chaeyoung exclaims happily. “can i play?”

“sure,” the taller girl agrees easily. “you can be my partner. y/n, wanna play?”

“wait, who else is playing?”

tzuyu shrugs. “go find someone!” you glance around; mina’s sitting on the couch with dahyun, both tapping away at their phones. nayeon and jihyo are sitting at the table in the kitchen, already playing some kind of card game. you start to walk off to look for sana and momo and tzuyu calls after you, “oh, get sana! she needs to get on our level!”

you find sana in the kitchen with momo. you quickly grab another cup, mixing vodka with soda haphazardly, taking a big gulp as you bound up to sana. “i’m drunk,” you state the obvious with a giggle. “and you need to catch up! let’s play beer pong with chae and tzuyu!” you point your cup towards sana, who giggles back at you, takes the cup, shares a look with momo.

“thanks, y/n!” she hums as she sips at the drink. “actually, i think you might regret recruiting me for beer pong,” she winks at you and hands your cup to momo, who tilts her head at you for approval. you nod quickly and she takes a long drink before handing the cup back to you. “but momo would love to be your partner tonight!”

you beam at the other girl hopefully. “would you really? please?” momo looks at you with wide eyes, seemingly caught off guard. she sneaks a glance at sana, who just bats her eyes innocently.

“oh, sure,” she agrees quickly. “i’m down.” you cheer as you grab her hand and guide her towards the table where chaeyoung and tzuyu are setting up the cups and pouring beer into each one. you chug a bit more of your drink, which has dwindled down to just a few more mouthfuls. you offer the rest to momo, then pout when you realize you don’t have anything else to drink, making sana laugh from behind you. she walks back to the kitchen as you and momo take your places at one end of the table, chaeyoung and tzuyu at the other. it’s decided that you and momo will go first. momo gestures at you to go ahead, and you grab one of the ping pong balls and eye the pyramid of cups across from you.

before you can toss the ball, sana returns with two new drinks, places one on the small table by the couch. she points at it and says, “that’s for you, y/n. when you’re done playing.” she takes a sip from the other drink still in her hand.

“thanks,” you nod at her words, focusing intently on your form. you decide to just go for it, casually arching the ball forward, watching as it sinks cleanly into one of the cups in front of tzuyu. “yes!”

momo whoops. “nice.” she offers her hand out for a high-five. tzuyu takes the cup, removes the ball, drinks the beer. momo quickly finishes off the drink you’d given her, adding it to the cup tzuyu drank to start a stack on the side, then moves to take her shot. she hesitates for quite a while before eventually throwing the ball. it bounces off the side of one cup, but falls into the one next to it. you cheer loudly as momo’s eyes widen and she turns to face you, a giddy expression on her face. you sneak a quick peck on her cheek, delight in the way the skin pinkens immediately as momo looks at you bashfully. chaeyoung takes the cup out, removing the ball before downing the contents inside. she boos half-heartedly but she’s smiling as she hands both ping pong balls back to you.

you immediately toss one across the table. it bounces off a cup and drops onto the table. you pout. “ugh. got too cocky. redeem us, momo!” but momo misses her shot, too, so you hand the balls to chaeyoung and tzuyu.

tzuyu tosses her ball quickly and it immediately falls into a cup in front of you. you grab the cup, take the ball out, drink the beer, add the cup to the stack. chaeyoung takes her position, squinting momentarily across the table before shooting the ball, landing it in a cup next to momo. the older girl grabs the cup, takes the ball out and hands it back to chaeyoung before tossing the beer back into her mouth. a droplet of beer shines at the corner of her mouth. without thinking, you lean forward and wipe at it with your finger before popping it into your mouth to clean it off. momo stares at you, but you don’t seem to notice. tzuyu and chaeyoung take their shots again. tzuyu lands her ball in a cup—momo drinks it quickly—but chaeyoung misses hers. they hand the balls back to you and momo. you arc one ball perfectly into a cup. momo’s turn is kind of disastrous; she throws the ball towards the cups, but it ends up smacking chaeyoung in the tit.

“sorry!” momo squeaks. chaeyoung just laughs and waves her off. the game keeps going, but it quickly becomes obvious that chaeyoung and tzuyu are going to win. you only land your ball into the cups two more times, and momo misses every shot she takes, looking all the more distracted as each round passes. eventually, you and momo lose pretty spectacularly. jihyo and nayeon push you both out of the way to take on chaeyoung and tzuyu.

disgruntled, you grab the drink sana made for you and take a gulp. “i can’t believe we lost!” you wail as momo follows you to the kitchen.

momo shrugs. “we’ll get ’em next time,” she promises, wrapping her arms around you from behind. you settle against her with a sigh.

“you’re so…” you gesture a little vaguely at her body, “comfy?” you finish, pulling momo’s arms around you even tighter. “like, you’re firm. you have really nice muscles and... you know. but you’re super cozy.” she hums in your ear as you lift your cup to your lips again.

“thanks,” she laughs. “i mean, i eat a lot. but i work out a lot too.”

“oh, i’ve noticed. your body always looks so good,” you continue absentmindedly before you pull away from her to look her in the eyes, slightly embarrassed. “i—it’s not like i stare. i just mean i wish i had your athleticism, you know? i don’t really know how to work out, and i don’t have a whole lot of stamina.” that causes momo’s mouth to twitch into a subtle smirk and you flush. your tongue suddenly feels very dry, and you’re not exactly sure it’s cotton mouth.

“well, maybe i could help you with that,” momo quips before she steals a bit of your drink and starts to move to the music blaring from jihyo’s speaker, and it pushes you to dance as well. after a song or two, momo’s hands make their way around your waist and you let your arms wrap around her neck, your cup dangling over her shoulder. it registers in your mind that you like this—like momo pressed against your body, like big brown eyes twinkling as she grins at you, like momo’s laugh vibrating against your chest. you smile at her as you dance together, your friends jumping and singing along to the music around you as they toss ping pong balls at each other.

everyone else seems to be preoccupied, not paying any attention to you and momo. you hardly realize that momo’s been guiding you towards the bathroom until she pushes the door open, closes it behind you, shoves you against the wall. her eyes bore into yours, looking for your approval before she leans in to kiss you. you close the distance, bringing a hand up to cradle her jaw. it feels incredibly intimate as she runs a hand from your neck down your side, eventually resting it on your hip. you continue to kiss her softly, sighing into her mouth as she lets out quiet hums of approval. after a while, she licks into your mouth, nips at your bottom lip, and you gasp as things begin to progress quickly from there.

her teeth tug at the skin of your throat. you try to suppress a moan, but it rips out of your mouth before you can stop it, and momo laughs, kisses you again. “maybe,” she breathes against your lips, “we should get out of here.” you nod enthusiastically, connect your lips again, savor the taste of her peach chapstick. you follow her out of the bathroom. you go to the front door, grabbing your belongings while momo walks up to the rest of the girls, all still either dancing or playing beer pong, says to them, “i think y/n isn’t feeling great. maybe she drank too much? and i’m kind of tired anyway, so i’m gonna take her home. we’ll see you later.” she leans in to whisper something privately to sana, who squeals and shoves momo’s shoulder. then sana waves you both off, turning back to cheer jihyo on as she tosses a ping pong ball into a cup.

and then you’re out the door, stumbling as you walk the few short minutes to momo’s place, giggling as momo pulls you into her arms every few steps to kiss you exuberantly.

you’ve never actually been to momo’s apartment, you realize. it’s nice; it’s relatively simple, a comfortable lived-in vibe filling the space. in the back of your mind, behind the haze of tequila shots, jungle juice, cherry bombs, beer, and weed, you remember that this isn’t just momo’s apartment—this is also sana and nayeon’s new apartment, the three having just moved in together recently.

you follow momo to one of the rooms, presumably hers. as she punches the numbers into her keypad, you take a moment to check your phone. you have a text from chaeyoung.

text me when you get home please, it reads.

not sure when i’ll be home but i’m okay! i’m at momo’s, you respond before following momo through the door.

quietly, you take a moment to observe momo’s room. it’s cozy, photos adorning the walls along with a bunch of figurines momo must like. there are a few drawings hung on the walls, too, and if you lean in, you can see on each of them a signature that looks kind of like momo’s name.

before you can get a closer look, though, momo’s running her fingers down your arm, pressing feather-light kisses against the back of your neck and your shoulders. you turn and wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her into a proper kiss as she settles her hands along your waist. she kisses you with vigor, smiling as you respond just as fervently. she pushes you lightly, the backs of your knees hitting her mattress, making you fall backwards onto the bed. she makes quick work of your clothes, pulling your top and pants off as she kisses down your skin. momo takes her shirt off and you stare at her muscular arms and abs in reverence. your jaw drops when she pulls off her bra next; her boobs are actually perfect. it’s like she’s not even real. she smirks as she pulls her pants down her legs and kicks them to the floor, shaking you from your daze. then she crawls back on top of you, leaves another hickey on your chest, strokes your hair.

“if you wanna stop at any point, just tell me.” her voice is gentle but insistent, and you nod.

“same here,” you respond, and she sends you a little smile that’s entirely too cute for her own good.

she undoes the clasp of your bra, throws it somewhere to the side and momo descends immediately, full lips around your nipple, sucking hard and assertive, the other one rolled between two fingers. after you begin panting, she switches sides, makes sure to pay attention to both of your breasts as you let out lewd moans and sighs.

you lose yourself like that for a while as she pleasures your tits before eventually she removes her mouth from your chest, shifts up a little, grinds down on your thigh—you can feel the heat from between her legs, the soaked fabric of her panties pressing down onto your skin. you let out a whine.

“you sound so pretty for me, baby,” momo breathes into your collarbone. she sucks a dark hickey at the base of your throat. you moan again, the sound vibrating against momo’s lips. you let your hand drift down towards her clothed core, rubbing circles against the wet spot on her panties. she lets out a whimper, and you push her a little so she sits up. you easily pull her panties off, let them fall to the floor. you use your fingers to tease at her folds, coating them in her slick. you start to rub circles on her clit and she lets out a series of breathy, high-pitched whines. you keep going like that for a while, momo pulling you down to make out with her as you stimulate her clit. soon, momo’s body is shaking. “i need your fingers in me, y/n,” she chokes out.

you hum. “ask me nicely.”

“please, y/n. please fuck me with your fingers.” you lick your lips and nod.

you start by easing one finger inside her, thrusting in and out until she’s whimpering softly. then, you add another finger, curling them both upwards as you sink them into her pussy, caressing her g-spot. momo groans, low and sensual, as you start to fuck into her with your fingers. with each thrust, your palm makes contact with her clit, and eventually her head starts to loll back, loud moans rising out of her mouth.

you think you could get addicted to this—her sounds, her heat, her pleasure. it’s enough to get you dripping.

“i’m gonna cum,” momo gasps out. “oh, fuck—i’m—”

you nearly cum when her orgasm takes over, grunts and whines falling from her lips as she shudders and gushes onto your fingers. you slow down, rub at her clit gently a few times before eventually pulling your fingers out. you shove them into momo’s mouth. “suck,” you command, and she does so immediately, tongue flicking around your digits. “good girl.” you take your fingers out and immediately pull her into a kiss, licking into her mouth and tasting her cum on her tongue, sweet and tangy and a little salty.

yeah, you could definitely get addicted to this.

for a while, you kiss her like that, her heavy breathing eventually evening out as she recovers from her climax. slowly, momo slides her hand downwards, stopping at the edge of your panties. she circles the hem of your underwear, presses a kiss into your neck again. your breath catches in your throat. you’re positively soaked. momo moves down, settles between your thighs. she kisses at the wetness on your panties, reaches up, pulls them down your legs, over your thighs, tosses them away from the bed. she kisses your clit and you whimper. you look down and oh—she makes eye contact with you, smirks, licks into your slit, collecting your slick on her warm tongue.

momo sucks at your clit just as unrelentingly as she had your nipple, and you’ve always been so sensitive. you’re moaning, breath ragged, body shaking as momo licks at your cunt.

you’re so drenched, momo easily slips two fingers in and starts pumping them in and out. the feeling of her fingers curling into your g-spot makes you gasp, and she keeps darting her tongue against your clit, licking against your labia, spreading your wetness around her mouth. you moan loudly and your hands fall to grip at her head, grasping into her hair.

you let out a strangled, “oh fuck, momo, oh my god—” as her fingers fuck into you, tongue licking broadly against your folds and flicking against your clit. her lips wrap around your bud and she sucks, the sensation sending you over the edge. “momo, i’m gonna cum, ’m gonna—fuck—”

your body goes slack as you cum powerfully, momo still lapping at your folds, sucking around your clit and thrusting her fingers into you. eventually, she pulls away, lets you lay there as you recover, brushes your hair out of your face. she gets up off the bed and says, “be right back.” then she’s rummaging through her drawers as you close your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

you notice her shadow looming over you when she returns. “so,” momo breathes out, tugging at your hair. you let out a whimper. “i have something else i’d like to try with you, if you’re up for it?” you open your eyes and look at her, see the harness and pink silicone dildo in her hands. instantly, you sit up and surge towards her, kissing her desperately. she pulls away with a laugh and says, “i’ll take that as a yes, then.”

before you know it, you’re face down on the bed, on your hands and knees, elbows resting on her pillow, back arched and legs spread. momo runs her hands down your back as you shiver, grips your left hip, uses her other hand to rub the tip of the shaft along your dripping slit. she teases you leisurely and you quickly begin to grow impatient. you whine pathetically, “more. i need all of you. please, momo.”

momo’s mouth quirks up in satisfaction. “you’re a greedy little whore, huh?” but she complies, places the head against your pussy, pushes the tip in, doesn’t wait for you to adjust and slides the length all the way into you in one movement. you grasp tightly at the sheets beneath you, letting out a low moan. momo slowly pulls out, looks smug at the slickness spread along the strap, pushes back inside you with a giggle. she pulls out again, repeats the action, thrusting harder and quicker each time, hands gripping your ass firmly. she’s found a good rhythm and she lets out a deep groan. you feel yourself clench at the sound, thighs quivering as pleasure surges throughout you.

she continues to fuck into you deeply until eventually your arms begin to give out; she slows momentarily, pulls out completely, grabs your hips and flips you over so you’re on your back, staring up at her. she lines up the dildo against your cunt again, buries the shaft in you, but she doesn’t move. instead, she smirks down at you as you begin to whimper desperately.

“what is it, baby? use your words.”

“momo,” you gasp out, “please move, please.”

she tilts her head. you’re squirming, trying to fuck yourself on her dick, but momo’s strong, holding you in place, preventing you from finding your own pleasure. “beg properly,” she drawls, “and maybe i’ll think about it.”

“will you please move, momo? i’ll do anything, baby, please, i need your cock so bad,” you cry. “please fuck me, please i’ll be such a good slut for you, momo, just please move, please.”

“how cute,” she coos before she starts fucking you at the same pace as before, hitting hard and deep inside you every time. you’re gasping and grunting each time she thrusts, her round eyes shining in amusement as she stares down at you. you eventually break eye contact when you glance at her body.

the sight of momo’s toned abs and round tits glistening with a thin layer of sweat nearly makes you lose your mind, and you claw desperately at her arms. she starts rubbing at your clit with one hand, the other holding you down securely by your waist. the combined stimulation sends you into overdrive, and your breath hitches, vision begins to blur, body shakes frantically with momo’s name falling from your lips repeatedly as your orgasm ripples through every part of you.

as you come down from your high, momo slips out of you, making you exhale sharply as you adjust to the loss. you feel completely wrecked, pussy raw and sore from the intensity of momo’s actions. she quickly leaves to bring you some towels and a glass of water. she returns with a soft expression; the two of you lay together as she gently, carefully wipes you down. you sip at your water gratefully, finishing the entire glass, but you can feel fatigue engulfing your body. she practically carries you to the bathroom, where she lends you a spare toothbrush and leaves you to use the toilet. when you’re finished, she really does pick you up this time, setting you gently on her bed, pulling the sheets up over your body. you barely manage to whisper out a “thank you” before you’re passed out, surrounded by momo’s scent and breathing peacefully. momo just smiles, tucks your hair behind your ear, presses a soft kiss against your forehead. as you fall into a deep slumber, she gets up, folds your clothes and puts them in a tote bag, finds your phone. noticing your almost-dead battery, she plugs it into a spare charger. then she crawls into bed next to you, turns off her light, and falls asleep to the soothing rise and fall of your chest next to her.

you roll over, eyes sticky with exhaustion and haziness. your body aches, and you reach a heavy hand out to find your phone. you feel around for a few moments before your phone is pushed gently into your hand. startled, you blink a few times and sit up.

momo lays next to you, body half-covered by the sheets, lips cut into a smirk. “good morning,” she husks quietly. “sleep well?” you stare at her for a moment. you’re aware that you’re both still naked, and you try not to think about her flawless chest and delicious abs.

“uh, good morning. yes. yeah. uh, i… i did. did you?” your brain feels all jumbled and looking at momo doesn’t seem to help.

“sure did,” she drawls with a grin, all teeth and rosy cheeks. “your phone’s being blowing up all morning, by the way.” you look down at the device and unlock the screen. your notifications are flooded with missed calls and texts from your friends—sana and chaeyoung’s names seem to take up the majority of them. noticing the time, your eyes widen comically.

“holy shit,” you breathe, head snapping up to look at momo. “uh… fuck. i am so sorry.”

her head tilts, adorably confused. “what for?” she shifts forward, reaching for your torso. she tugs at you a little until she’s snuggled against your body, burying her head into your side and wrapping an arm around your midsection.

“uh.” it seems to be your favorite word this morning. “for staying here so long? i didn’t mean to fall asleep here, i swear.” momo just laughs softly and closes her eyes.

“i don’t mind,” she sighs into your skin. your heart starts to beat a little faster.

“are you sure?”

she hums. “yeah. i even made breakfast, if you’re ready to eat. i wouldn’t have done that if i weren’t okay with you staying here.” her tone is teasing, but you can feel the sincerity in her voice. it makes you blush.

you squeak, “you made breakfast?”

“mm,” she responds. “just before you woke up. should still be warm. you still like waffles, yeah?”

“uh,” you repeat. you mentally kick yourself—where is your eloquence? “waffles are… good. hey, is sana here? and nayeon?”

her lips twitch. “would i have made breakfast naked if they were?” you turn bright red. “nayeon decided to head over to jeongyeon’s last night,” momo continues, “and dahyun took sana home with her and tzuyu. neither of them will be back until later.”

“oh, okay,” you exhale. “right. so, uh…” you don’t quite know how to say the words.

“hey, if you’re worried about this ruining our friendship,” momo starts, fiddling with her fingers, “we don’t have to make it anything more than just a hookup. we don’t even have to mention it again, if you’d like. i don’t mind. it’s your call.”

instantly, you flush, embarrassed that she’s read you so easily. “i’m sorry,” you say quickly. “it’s just—last night was incredible, beyond incredible, and you were so good, really, but i just don’t want this to make things weird between us. you’re one of my best friends and i like being with you, you know?” stop talking, you think. momo raises an eyebrow and you can’t help but continue, “not like that—or, well, maybe like that, if that’s something you want, because i definitely wouldn’t be opposed.” oh my god, stop! talking! your cheeks are hot and you look down at the floor.

momo lets out a laugh and reaches for your hand, prompting you to look back up at her. “y/n, it’s okay. i’m not, like, offended or anything. i totally get it. i’d never want to jeopardize our friendship, either. but it doesn’t have to make things weird. because i also like being with you, whether it ends like it did last night or not. no pressure. we don’t have to do anything you don’t want. we can just go with the flow.” she sends you a comforting smile. “how about we eat breakfast now? before it goes cold.”

“sure,” you agree, “but i might need help walking over there.”

momo’s proud smirk that follows replays in your mind even weeks later.

when you’d come home the day after jihyo’s kickback, chaeyoung had asked about your sleepover at momo’s, but she didn’t seem to think much of it. miraculously, none of the girls had noticed the array of hickeys that momo had left all over your body, or wondered why you’d spent the rest of the weekend entirely in bed, only moving to get ready.

before you’d left her apartment that day, you’d mustered up the courage to lean in to kiss her, and momo had closed the distance before saying goodbye sweetly. you’d given in and texted momo not even two hours later, and ever since then, you’ve been chatting back and forth with the older girl, messages flirtier than they’ve ever been, tension accumulating as the weeks go by. you see momo a lot when you hang out with your friends, and nobody seems to think anything of it when she intertwines her fingers with yours or pulls you into frequent hugs, hands gripping at your waist. you hang out with her alone, too, though it’s all been completely friendly so far, with only your texts to insinuate there might be something else between you. you won’t say it to her, but you really wouldn’t mind if she just kissed you sometimes, or edged you in the bathroom during lunch, maybe.

on one morning, between classes, you go for coffee with her and sana—invitation extended by momo followed by a mouthwatering mirror pic of her, post-workout, abs gleaning with sweat and thumb hooked into the front of her joggers, along with the message working on my stamina. needless to say, you’d nearly forgotten about the coffee entirely.

“you guys seem to have gotten really close recently,” sana remarks as momo goes to pick up your orders. the two of you sit at a table, observing the oldest girl as she thanks the barista and starts to carry the tray back over to you.

“well, we were close before,” you say, trying to not sound too affected. “but i guess we have been hanging out a lot more recently.” momo takes her seat then, passing out your drinks and pastries. sana just hums and fails to hide a smile behind her cold brew. you cough.

before you head to your next class, sana pulls you aside as momo’s tossing away your trash. “just so you know,” she whispers, “i think you should go for it. if you like her, i mean. you’re totally momo’s type.”

before you can respond, momo’s standing in front of you, doe eyes sparkling as she swings her bag over her shoulder. sana winks at you.

you bid them both goodbye and make your way to class. it’s kind of funny—the entire time, all you can think about is sana saying you’re totally momo’s type. you try to ignore how the thought sets your skin on fire.

you have statistics class with tzuyu, jihyo, and momo every tuesday and thursday at 10 a.m.

only now, you start to notice momo—she always sits at the end of the row next to tzuyu, while you sit in between tzuyu and jihyo. momo’s quietly immersed in her phone most of the time. she doesn’t really take notes, or even listen to your professor. in fact, whenever your eyes find her, she’s always staring into space or typing something on her phone. sometimes you catch her with her notebook open and pencil scrawling something across the pages, but you can see she’s just doodling. you wonder what her grade is. after all, you spend half your time in this class playing games and texting with tzuyu, and the both of you are barely clinging to a low B as it is. jihyo, on the other hand, is always focused—her hard-earned A is the reflection of her determination and work ethic.

you subtly begin to switch seats with tzuyu so you can sit next to momo. tzuyu doesn’t really seem to notice or care, but one day, after a couple weeks, jihyo asks you about it as you slide into a seat, five minutes early for class.

“why are you sitting there?”

“huh?” you say smartly, pulling out your notebook and pencil. jihyo does the same, but she gives you a look.

“tzuyu usually sits next to momo. what, you don’t like sitting next to me anymore?”

“oh! no, that’s not it. uh, i guess i just didn’t notice.” you hope it comes out as casual as possible. jihyo gives you another look, which you ignore, and pulls out her stuff, settling into her seat.

“momo! hey!” at jihyo’s words, you nearly break your neck looking up so quickly. jihyo tries to stifle a guffaw.

“hey jihyo,” momo glances towards you and her eyes sparkle more brightly. “hi, y/n.”

“hi momo,” you reply breathlessly. again, you pay no mind to the giant grin jihyo’s sending your way.

momo drops into the seat next to you, scoots a little closer to you, her leg brushing against yours. your breath falters slightly. jihyo suppresses a cackle; you ignore her resolutely. “are you guys ready for the test next week?”

“wait, there’s a test next week?” you squeak.

“hey, you should’ve been paying attention,” jihyo tsks. “i invited you the other day to come to my study session. at least tzuyu actually showed up.”

“well, we can still study until the test,” momo offers. she glances at you. “y/n, what do you think?”

“oh, uh,” you look at momo. “sure. i could use the extra help. i mean, tzuyu and i…” you peek over at jihyo sheepishly. “well, yeah. i could use the extra help.” momo lets out a laugh and you blush.

jihyo rolls her eyes. “oh, now you want to study together? hey, you missed your chance.”

you wince. “sorry about that again. it’s just… well, i just didn’t feel like studying.” momo can’t help but giggle again at that. secretly, you’re preening inside at the sound.

“you can study with me,” momo leans closer to you. you stare at her, brain faltering at her close proximity. “i might not be a genius like jihyo, but i’m good. good enough to have an A, at least.”

you’re about to respond when tzuyu hurls herself into the seat between you and jihyo. “hey guys! did i miss anything?”

“hey tzuyu,” momo looks at her. “no, not yet. we were just saying we should study together again before the unit test, maybe next week?” you all agree and begin to make plans, but quickly quiet down when you notice the professor walk in.

the entire lecture, all you can focus on is momo—momo’s leg, pressed against your own—momo’s fingers, tapping every so often along the desk—momo’s perfume, something sweet and citrusy and a little powdery—momo’s jawline, sharp and gorgeous—momo’s eyes, huge and twinkling—

you don’t even notice when class ends, only registering it when momo’s standing up to leave, waggling her fingers teasingly at you as she exits the hall. jihyo and tzuyu gesture for you to hurry up and gather your things. you look down at your notebook, page completely empty save for the words stop staring at me in momo’s cute handwriting scrawled next to a heart.

jihyo and tzuyu exchange a look as you stare at the paper. when you peer up at them, jihyo just laughs. tzuyu rolls her eyes but sends a soft expression towards you. you suddenly feel very dizzy.

you’d spent the week trying to study to prepare for your statistics test, but you didn’t seem to get very far. now, you’re standing in front of momo’s door, textbook in hand with your bag slung over your shoulder as you knock gently.

jihyo and tzuyu had chosen to study on their own, with jihyo ultimately deciding that you would be too distracting for tzuyu to focus if you were together. she’d offered to study with you separately, but you’d instead jumped at the chance to ask momo to study with you. jihyo hadn’t tried to convince you otherwise, just giving you a knowing wink, and momo was more than happy to say yes.

the door opens to reveal a barefaced momo, dressed comfortably in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, doe eyes blinking at you behind big round glasses, fluffy hair falling softly around her face. your heart bursts at the sight. she beams at you before pulling you into a hug, shutting the door behind you.

“hey, you,” she greets you fondly. “ready to study, buddy?” you roll your eyes but laugh anyway.

“i guess,” you respond. “but to be completely honest, i’m pretty lost on this whole unit. and not just because i usually spend half of lecture beating tzuyu at candy crush.” momo raises an eyebrow at that. “i mean, i’m not stupid or anything, but it kinda just doesn’t click for me. just to warn you.”

momo just shrugs, gives you a comforting smile. “that’s okay. i’m pretty patient.”

you follow her to her room and you settle on the floor, pulling out your materials. for a while, you’re determined and fully concentrated on your studies. momo’s not wrong: she’s extremely patient, and the way she explains things is direct and simple, and somehow, things start to fall into place, and you grasp the concepts from the unit fairly quickly.

but after a couple hours, your focus begins to waver, and you find yourself incredibly distracted by the slope of momo’s nose, the mole on her neck, the rosiness of her cheeks—

“you’re staring,” momo singsongs, breaking your train of thought. her mouth is configured in a lopsided grin. you blink. “again.”

“sorry,” you say, not feeling very sorry at all. “you’re just really… you know. pretty.”

“i’m pretty?” she smirks at you, leans into your personal space. you nod dumbly and she giggles. she tilts her head forward to capture your lips in a kiss, and you can’t help but sigh. despite her flirty behavior, it’s been almost two months since you’d last kissed, since you’d spent the night with her after jihyo’s party, and you missed it. you missed her.

the two of you collapse onto her bed and kiss lazily for a while; you relish in her gentle touches and natural beauty. she’s so pretty. she’s certainly handsome, too, you think. she’s honestly just the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen in your entire life. her lips are soft and full, dragging lightly along your jawline before she nips at your throat. you whimper quietly as momo bites down on you again.

statistics long forgotten, you take your top off, toss it to momo’s floor.

momo’s plump lips are pressing hot, wet kisses against the column of your neck. you try to keep your composure, but a guttural moan makes its way out of your mouth and you instantly flush red. momo pulls at your pants, tugging them and your panties down your legs.

momo eats you out until you’re trembling, chest heaving and nothing but moans and broken speech falling from your lips. her lips and chin glisten with your slick, but she just gives you a quick kiss before leaning back down and attaching her mouth around your clit again. you fall apart once, twice, three times—your clit throbs intensely, painfully, too sensitive to keep going. but you don’t tell her to stop, so momo doesn’t stop, and you really like that she doesn’t stop. by the time you’re shuddering your way into a seventh orgasm, you’re limp and mumbling incoherently. momo finally lets up, licks into your mouth instead, your own cum coating your tongue as she kisses you wetly, desperately.

you go home that night feeling complete—and momo completes you again and again and again for hours when you show up at her place a week later, a giant A displayed at the top of your statistics test.

you’re pretty sure you’re addicted to momo.

you hang out with the older girl constantly. you go to movies together, study together, eat meals together. you don’t even go out to parties anymore, unless it’s held by one of your friends, choosing to go out with momo instead. you can’t remember the last time you saw yooyeon or jiwon. it hardly matters when you’re settled between momo’s thighs, lips wrapped around her clit, the sweetness of her cum dancing along every corner of your mouth.

eventually, you’re ending every other night in momo’s room. it doesn’t always involve sex—really, you just feel like being around momo. it’s nice. momo certainly isn’t complaining.

she starts to keep a toothbrush for you in her bathroom, and your clothes begin to mix in with her own closet.

chaeyoung doesn’t text you asking when you’re coming home anymore. instead, she asks if you’re coming over. whenever you swing by what’s technically your apartment with momo in tow, chaeyoung beams hugely at you, gives you a wink or a thumbs up. it’s only mildly embarrassing.

you’ve never had a friend quite like momo—she’s in a league of her own. she’s easily the best hookup you’ve ever had. you feel lucky just to be friends with her.

you think about momo’s taut abs, the way her skilled tongue curls inside you, her incredible stamina. you think about her contagious laugh, her alarmingly loud sneezes, her focused expression when she’s cooking something in the kitchen. you like all of these things about momo. you decide that, yeah, momo feels right. your head starts to spin when you think about what that means.

it dawns on you that this was what you’d been feeling every time you think about momo—want, pure desire, love. you’ve never craved anything or anyone like this before. you never felt want like this, love like this—it never felt right, not unless it was momo.

you’re at dinner with jeongyeon when you finally get the bright idea to actually tell momo you love her.

really, it’s more like jeongyeon hands you the idea on a silver platter.

“you seem happy,” jeongyeon says before biting into a dumpling.

you hum. “i am happy,” you say, not at all surprised to find your thoughts immediately drifting to momo. you begin to space out a bit as you think about all your recent memories with her; it’s not just the sex that’s good, but she makes you feel alive. when you’re with her, you forget about the rest of the world. it feels good to be around her. even just thinking about momo makes you feel at ease, content.

jeongyeon smiles at you, eyes softening. “so you and momo made it official then?”

that jolts you out of your reverie.

“momo—official—we aren’t—what?” you splutter incredulously. you stare at jeongyeon. she just blinks at you.

“you and momo,” she repeats, slower this time. “aren’t you guys, like, dating?” she says it so casually, in between bites of meat—you feel like the world has stopped spinning. “did she finally ask you to be her girlfriend?”

“momo and i are not dating,” you choke out nervously. “where in the world did you get that idea?”

jeongyeon stops chewing, swallows haltingly. “you’re kidding, right?” she sits up straighter, looks you in the eyes. “you guys aren’t subtle. like, at all. you know, we’re polite, not blind. those hickeys aren’t invisible, and you only got away with faking sick so many times before it tipped us off that something was up. plus, you’re always looking at each other with heart eyes. it’s kind of sickening, actually.”

you sit in silence as you absorb this. after a beat, you croak, “so, all of you… know about the sex?” she nods. “i see. well, honestly, i love her. but i’m worried that she’s not there yet.”

jeongyeon looks at you. “y/n, i’m pretty sure everyone knows that momo loves you. like, i’m not kidding, but she’s had a crush on you since you met. just ask sana. she’s been playing wingwoman for momo for months and it was like you were completely blind until the first time you and momo kissed. you know sana called me that night, drunk in dahyun’s bed, both of them shouting at me to start planning the wedding? mina helps momo pick out outfits for your dates. nayeon buys extra groceries because you practically live at their apartment now, and don’t think chaeyoung hasn’t noticed that. don’t even get me started on the updates jihyo and tzuyu send every week.” she decides to make it very clear to you. “momo talks nonstop about you, and the sex isn’t even a quarter of her rambling.” she rolls her eyes, but her lips stretch into a tender smile.

“oh. i guess i should probably do something about this, huh?” you rub your fingers at your neck as jeongyeon just rolls her eyes again.

“yeah,” she responds. “make it simple and just tell her ‘i love you.’”

you unlock momo’s room when you return from dinner and march up to momo, who’s laying on her bed, listening to music and staring at the ceiling absentmindedly. “i love you,” you say to her, feeling completely breathless. she sits up, looks extremely confused, but smiles blindingly at you. “i’m sorry i didn’t say it sooner.” you pause. “all of our friends seem to be under the impression that you love me back, so…” you trail off shyly.

“well, they’re not wrong,” she laughs out. “i do love you back.” you’re blushing, but momo just reaches towards you, pulls you onto her bed next to her. “no need to be sorry, by the way. i told you i was patient.”

that night, you see stars over and over and over as you and momo make love for hours until you’re both ready to pass out.

when your eyes finally shut, the last thing you register before you drift to sleep is momo whispering against your lips, “i love you.” and you think love might just be your new favorite word in the world.

#kpop x reader #kpop imagines #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice momo x reader #twice momo imagines #momo x reader #momo imagines #girl group imagines #kpop #twice #twice momo #hirai momo #twice smut

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hiraiologist · 3 months

Text

love love LOVE this, such an original narrative and your delivery is so impressive

my knife that's bounded by your love

witch!son chaeyoung x witchhunter!reader || angst, fluff

synposis: you and the celestial witch you captured are forced to rely on each other in the harsh wilderness of the winter, and what comes after.

warnings: cursing ; blood ; violence ; suggestive content ; enemies to lovers ; attempted sexual assault (not by the reader though) ; posessive behavior

a/n: i threw this idea to @nr1chaedickrider in January and was motivated to finish this when the mood film of the with you-th mini album came out. :)

(this has been sitting in my drafts for the longest time now)

they were fast and fluid coming into the dead of night.

chaeyoung is awoken to the snarling face of a man holding a knife shoved against the curve of her throat. she chokes a scream as the man buries a hand into her hair, dragging her out of bed. he’s spitting nonsense in a string of curses, calling her the bride’s demon, a whore, it was all in a flash but she could only focus on the terrified shrieking of her sisters outside.

adrenaline is coursing through her veins, but all it could afford is her hyper-vigilance and panic. she stumbles along the ground like a newborn calf getting the first whiffs of the new air as the hunter opens the door and tosses her out into the cold.

and then she sees the blood.

the visible stark red stained on the blanket of pure white snow. the fair skin of her sister’s throat slashed through, pooling ruddy around her prone body. another one lies right beside her, face frozen in abject horror, an arrow sunk deep in the center of her chest. both were dead.

dead.

chaeyoung is consumed with pure rage, nearly blinding all thoughts as she twists around, senselessly as the blade cuts into her flesh, snapping her teeth at the man’s neck. the man snarls, whipping her head around by her hair, but as much as her vision swims, she doesn’t relent. wrapping her cold hands around his tense wrist and whispers an incantation, grinning while the man yanks his hand away with an agonizing scream, skin blistering through and puncturing hot, blood boiling just beneath, but her victory was only for a few moments. another hunter flanks from behind and kicks her knee out. chaeyoung collapses to the snow with a prolonged mixture of a groan and hiss, her woolen nightgown soaked through.

her entire village had been razed to the ground, burned to a charred, cracking crips. the small wooden houses were nothing but ashy remains. her sisters all piled to form a large puddle swaddling in their own blood, their eyes empty of life and glazed over like a glass doll’s. screams echo around her in a grisly chorus, breaking through the air in all of its horror.

chaeyoung stifles a wince as a broad hand sinks into her hair and heaves her upward, shutting her eyes when the edge of the knife finds her exposed throat, unwilling to face her murderer, to give the hunter’s satisfaction of witnessing her fear.

“you deserve this,” the hunter whispers to her, their pungent, rancid breath warming the outer shell of her ear. “for trading your soul.”

pressing the blade deeper, inciting a motion across, she holds her breath, lungs contracting, anticipating the rush of hot blood followed by the pain, before another voice, low with an ear-piercing command, asks, “what do you think you’re doing?”

the hunter backs off immediately, and chaeyoung crumples back onto her hands and knees, panting hoarsely while clutching her neck. she glances up, noticing a pair of heavy yet sleek, black boots. her eyes lift upwards, trailing over woolen trousers and a dark brown, fur-lined coat, before lingering on a simple silver cross dangling from her neck.

the antithesis of her kind. witch-hunters.

despite her vision being blurred, she finds your face. you’re nothing but with all harsh, rigid angles and sun-kissed skin, your slick hair and your lips chapped pink, the eyes were emotionless and burned like ice. you stare down at her, expression scornful, and lift your sword to her cheekbone. in a firm press, the blade sinks beneath her skin, blood beading against the cold steel; chaeyoung viciously bites her tongue, choking with a pained whimper.

you then slid the flat of her sword beneath her chin, lifting her head again, turning it side to side to side and to side, examining her.

she won’t touch me, chaeyoung realizes once the agony fades from her mind. she knows better.

“is she the last one?”

“uh.” vaguely, she notices the two other hunters glance at each other. “we’re not actually sure.”

“do you idiots at least remember the one’s you’ve killed?” you ask again, clearly annoyed.

“well.” the hunter purses their mouth in thought. “first, we got rid of the wise women.”

chaeyoung’s eyes pop with astonishment. she nearly keels over at the sudden wave of grief bursting through her body. the wise women were the oldest witches in the village, and the most powerful. for them to be murdered so easily and quickly—

“then the younger ones. the, uh—”

the children, she supplies. but she won’t call them that.

“and we went through the rest. they weren’t particularly difficult to get rid of. this village was festering with small pests and decrepit beings. we didn’t even bother going through the bodies.”

“the both of you are morons,” you growl, abruptly furious. she has blood splattered across her angular cheek and collar. “we always keep one for information on how to find the neighboring villages. how else do you think we find them?”

“y/n, we–”

“and yet, here you were, about to kill this one when you haven’t even bothered checking if there were any others left to replace her.”

you gesture at chaeyoung without giving a sense of acknowledgement, almost as if she’s a runt. the other two hunters have the gall to appear daunted.

“i’m sorry, y/n,” one of them says, dipping their head. “we didn’t think of that at the time.”

“like you guys actually would think about that. fucking dumbasses.” you spit, rolling your eyes. for a moment, you look back as there was a quick urge to lecture them more, before spitting on the ground, shaking your head. you snap your fingers towards chaeyoung’s direction.

“if you boneheads want to be useful, then bind her with some rope and start bringing her back to camp. we’ll find some post to tie her until we can properly interrogate her.”

so she’s the leader, chaeyoung realizes, wide-eyed at the realization, as a doting pit deepens in her gut. she speaks with authority, expecting to be obeyed right away. and to her utter shock, she is. the two grab a thick layer of robe, twining it around her wrists and locking them in place. chaeyoung glances up at them, imagining the thought of how amazing it’ll feel to hear them scream once she sets their blood to a boil, once turing the flesh into instant ice with a simple touch before setting fire to the rest. the same way the hunters did to her sisters. the resolve was already set in stone for her.

but the hunter, oblivious to the plotting chaeyoung was devising, simply glances down to her feet.

“how bout we get some shoes on her,” you scoff, motioning to turn away. “the last thing we need is for her to freeze to death before even reaching back to camp.”

it had been at least a half hour walk back to their encampment, and by the time they forced her back to the ground and tied her wrists to the wooden post, she’s half-frozen. they had put on fur-lined boots over her feet as you requested, but refused to give her anything else to battle against the cold. chaeyoung’s lips were dark blue, fingertips nearly blackened from the frostbite she’s getting. if she were to stay like this for any longer, she’d develop hypothermia once dawn breaks again unless she can get warmer clothes or a better shelter.

chaeyoung grist her teeth, jerking her wrists hard. the rope bites back into her delicate skin and fights the wince away from her mouth, throwing her head back against the wooden post.

she needs her hands to use her magic. the hunters know that. it’s the only reason why they’ve tied her like this in the first place.

chaeyoung then closes her hands, trying to mentally block out the cold, the sounds of the rambunctious laughter as the mixture of men and women cheer in celebration at the destruction of her whole livelihood. she needs to keep her head clear to think, but the adrenaline inside her fades away as the only thing in her mind was the thick, displeasing smell of blood and death, the bodies of her fallen sisters. disgusted by the image ingrained in her head, blinking out tears as she remembers the sight of their slit throats and dull eyes, tiny hands fisting the soft snow as knives were thrust into them relentlessly.

choking down a sob, tucking into herself and bowing her head to her knees. the youngest among them had only just turned six—a girl by the name of diana. as they dragged her away, chaeyoung had accidentally stumbled over her body back then, eyes up toward the night sky, bile moving upwards to her throat when she notices present arrow behind her back. the two hunters had shoved her forward before she could vomit it out.

i can’t die, chaeyoung thinks despairingly, turning her eyes up to the unforgiving heavens above. i have to kill them first.

in front of her, chaeyoung can see two male hunters circle around a fire, bundled up in heavy cloaks and sucking something whilst in their leather layered skins, their cheeks flushing red. they’re drinking, she realizes in distaste . they just wiped out an entire village of sleeping women and children and they’re drinking. impossibly, her loathing for them grew even larger.

“hey, witch!”

she narrows her eyes, tensing up her muscles when she notices the pair of hunters get up from the surrounding campfire and trudge over to her. their fur collars are painted with dried blood, lips tugging to a victorious grin and their eyes voided with nothing as they rove over her. chaeyoung is unsure if they see her as any different or more valuable than the wooden post that she’s bound to.

as the pair approach, one of them—the very same hunter who had held a blade to her throat just a little over an hour ago—nudges her leg with their boot and gwaffs when chaeyoung growls at them. not noticing her fear, and even if the hunter did, they were actually enjoying it.

“she’s a lively one ain’t it?” the hunter says to their friend, head tilted before giving a mere casual observation–one that makes her shudder. “but pretty.”

“pretty, yeah. i think if you tried touching her, though, she’d rip your hand off.”

“like she can do anything if she’s tied up like this,” the hunter adds, squatting down to match chaeyoung’s position. making the move closer, hand slowly inching up her leg, their eyes starving. chaeyoung snarls at the hunter viciously and curls in on herself, shaking with much intensity that she’s vibrating against the post, but the hunters laugh at her trembling image. the other hunter next to the first one leans down to the opposite side of her and another approaches the pair, indulging with a hand to her stomach, and she holds back a sob, vision swimming with a sickness in her stomach.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

the sense of deja vu electrifies her when she notices you storm over and grip the other hunter by the neck. you throw them off, kicking their stomach once hitting the ground before your foot met their face again in quick succession.

“are you three out of your goddamn minds?” you snarl again, kicking the hunter still on the ground. “did you not understand the message of not touching her before the interrogation that i need to repeat to you?!”

“fuck off!” to her small satisfying relief, the other hunter at her side jumps to their feet, clearly outraged. “we were just trying to have a little bit of fun! who cares if a skeptic whore gets fucked before we eventually kill her!”

you sneer an eye-piercing glare. “would it be compelling for you to fuck a pig instead?”

chaeyoung’s mind reels at that, the cold pit swallowing her body and blood rushing to their areas more urgently. the reason was all apparent and she still couldn’t believe with her eyes, she is less than human to them. even worse, she was no better than an animal that finds it fun to roll around in their own shit.

still, the sniding remark seems to give the hunters a new sense to their actions, and without looking at her, one of the fellow hunters pulls the other to their feet. they all walk back to their log, heads down in defeat, leaving you and the leader in the frigid silence.

when you turn back to face her, chaeyoung pointedly conceals her lingering distress and refuses to meet her eye, staring above her.

you cock your head to the side with a tsk, “they didn’t give you a blanket to use didn’t they?” observing her.

“was that not purposeful?” chaeyoung snorts. “i thought the endgame was having me killed.”

“not yet.” and before she can even bring herself to process that derogatory statement, you reach up and loosen the clasp at your collar, shucking off the heavy jacket and dropping it carelessly to her lap. she flinches beneath the weight, stomach turning inside-out at the pungent odor of blood and sweat, her body heat was too enticing for her to ignore, so she doesn’t shove the coat off.

chaeyoung sees you cross your arms. the absence of your large coat doesn’t negate the gravity of your stature. you still loomed over her, shoulders broad and legs long. nothing about you seems faltering nor weak.

“you’re from dunchon, past the mountain range.” you say, studying her closely.

chaeyoung scoffs. do you expect her to be impressed?

“and you want me to assume that observation had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you found my village in the mountains? that’s a clever deduction of information.”

you shake your head again. “it’s your accent.”

“and yours is from busan,” chaeyoung retorts. she recalls the very vague memories of her father. the way his mouth wreathes the syllables in a way that reminds her of him, although she diminishes the comparison as quickly as it forms, the notion now inconceivable; her father would never raise a weapon against their child.

“so then your mother was a witch then? or maybe from your father’s bloodline?”

“that’s none of your business.”

“maybe the village elders took you in? you looked different compared to them.”

“really? did you have a good look at their faces before or after you put your blades and arrows in them?” chaeyoung snaps back.

your eyes flash with a wick of temperament before you lowered herself to her knees, grabbing her face. the small cut through her lips burning at her touch and the sudan proximity dives her heart to her stomach.

“you happen to forget who i am witch,” you growled, voice lowly with a rumble. “i only kept you alive so that i can get information out of you, not out of some sudden change of heart. i could care less about killing you–” you then squeeze her jaw hard; a punctuated threat—”so when i ask you about something, i expect an answer for them.”

chaeyoung scowls through your grip, cheeks pushed up high, tongue slurring her speech. “pigs. can’t. speak.”

your growls again with incense, quickly rising back to your feet. scrubbing her hand down the fabric of your trousers before jabbing a finger at her. “i won’t waste my energy with you.”

“then you have all the reason to kill me now,” chaeyoung spits again, glancing down at your long fingers, at the blood and gore that was embedded beneath your nails—and, my, isn’t that a rare sight? “you have big hands. you can snap my neck into two if you wanted to.”

“oh, believe me, witch,” you say, eyes shining. “i’m dreaming of it.”

you and chaeyoung glare into each other’s eyes in the fraught silence for several long, excruciating moments. chaeyoung’s heart rails painfully against the encapsulated walls of her chest, hackles raised as she watches your expression shift from murderous contempt to a more tortured resignation. you exhale deeply and pinch the bridge of your nose. “we’ll speak again tomorrow. and you will answer my questions. i don’t care what i’ll have to do to make you.”

“is there any guarantee you can give me beforehand so that you won’t slice my throat immediately after you get what you need?”

you send a smile to her that’s all teeth. “i guess that depends on what you give me.”

without a parting glance, you turn on your heel and walk past the fire and into a large tent on the other side. chaeyoung glowers after you, burning with an indignation even as her body shivers from the chilling winds. in a brief moment, she contemplated throwing your cloak and kicking it to her bound hands so that she can set it ablaze under her fingertips; but that would be ridiculous, even she knows this. at this rate she’ll freeze from hypothermia sooner that she’ll die beneath your blade. she has to play the long game and prioritize her mind over her pride in any hope of surviving this.

just then, another gust of an icy breeze rushes past, upsetting the flaps of the tent before settling a chill down to her marrow, shivering violently, instinctively ducking under your the furs of your cloak to shield herself from the cold, stifling down the urge of resentment for your inadvertent help. the acceptance of this felt way too piercing like the sting of betrayal.

survival, chaeyoung desperately reminds herself. survival over your pride. the wise women had drilled this lesson into her head for years now. a witch does what she has to in order to survive. they are such a hunted class; it was the only way that they can protect themselves.

she whispers this mantra to herself as the warmth from your cloak begins to pull her to sleep. survival over your pride. she almost starts to believe it.

chaeyoung wakes up the the sound of shuffling, light steps against the powdery snow with a wet crunch the next morning.

she moans softly, eyes fluttering as she pushes herself upward to stretch her back, only to freeze at the sight of a large wolf pacing in front of her. it’s a frightful looking creature, an eye gouged out and it’s red teeth, a lonely fang peeking over its lips. pink saliva drops from it’s muzzle, blood coating it’s tongue and pale grey fur. behind it, the hunter who held a knife to her throat—touched her, called her pretty, a skeptic whore—lies on their back, eyes glazed over, blood burbling from his open mouth.

their throat had been devoured through.

she inhales sharply as she whips her head away, wild gaze darting around frantically until she spots the circle of prowling wolves at the campfire, snouts buried in the bodies of the four other hunters, half-eaten and choking in their own blood, fingers twitching and mouths moving reflexively screaming. some actually looked to still be alive.

bile rose up from her stomach again, disgust trumping the venomous hatred. she’s stunned to realize that the sight of their violent demise does little to bring her any sense of relief, only horror.

but the brown-eyed one. the thought storms through her like a jolt of electricity. the one they called y/n. where is she?

she jerks forward like second nature, her raw wrists scraping against the coarse rope, but she doesn’t realize the sensation. her eyes scan the environment, seeking you out. maybe—

the sound of her struggling alerts the wolf in front of her. pausing before turing its giant head to her slowly and chaeyoung meets its glowing golden eye, feeling her blood run ice-cold. it steps closer, hackles raising, lips pulled up to reveal red teeth primed like daggers. she panics at the low growl that rumbles from its chest, yanking her wrists against the post with a renewed motivation. her range of motion is severely limited; she feels blood begin to smear around the rope as her flesh rips, but she doesn’t care. she can’t afford to think of anything but escaping.

“come on!” she spits out, swallowing down a sob. “i am not dying like this! i refuse to!”

the wolf snarls at her loud cursing, nipping away at the mountainous cloak, and chaeyoung jerks her wrists again, harder, only for the rope to cut deeper into her skin. she hisses through her gritted teeth as tears cling to her lashes, despair building up, clamping down like a vice around her throat. she peers up at the twinkling, merciless stars and whispers, “please.”

and then—suddenly, fatefully—a large, black-gloved hand grasps the wolf by its long sound and slits its throat before it can even fight back. the wolf’s vicious snarl putters off into a pained yelp as it collapses onto the floor, hot blood turning the snow red. chaeyoung’s vile gaze darts upward to see you panting with exertion, crimson splatter across your face and clothes. a heavy weight lifts off her chest, light as air, that she wasn’t convinced that it was relief; she couldn’t call it anything else either.

but then you step towards her, arms outstretched, daggers brandished and glinting red beneath the pale moonlight over you two. chaeyoung jerks, just as afraid as before.

“get away from me!” she screams, struggling frantically. “if you touch me, i’ll–!”

“you’ll what?!” you sneer, before ducking behind her. chaeyoung tenses, anticipating a stab in the back, but is surprised when she feels her binds loosen instead. the rope snaps, cut through, and she yanks her arms towards the front of her body. smeared blood covered her wrists, stark against her fair pale skin, and she smothers a wince as she rolls them, every motion sending shockwaves of pain stinging down her nervous system. she could barely feel her muscles.

you move to her front, eyes catching her mutilated flesh. “you cut yourself.”

“because you tied me up and i was trying to escape!” chaeyoung snaps, flustered. “that wolf was going to eat me and—and why did you kill it? y-you saved–”

“for the same reason why i killed all the other ones.” you gesture behind your shoulder, and her eyes widen spotting the slow-bleeding bodies, arrows lodged in their sides. she didn’t even notice it at all.

you turn back, and it’s then that chaeyoung notices the dark, wet stretch of fabric over your shoulder, the puncture wounds of teeth marks against your exposed skin. she gasps loudly, surging towards you instinctively. “you’re wounded!”

you grasp her hand, squeezing it tightly till the bone creaks. “don’t even think about touching me,” you snarl.

“you’ll bleed to death.”

“and i’d rather die than be touched by your demon magic.”

“it’s not demon magic!” chaeyoung argues, before narrowing her eyes, pressing closer. you tighten your grip again, but she isn’t fazed. she’s freezing cold and injured and she can’t move without feeling like needles poking beneath her skin, but all it does is solidify her resolve. survival over pride.

“you need me,” chaeyoung says. “your hunters have been slaughtered, you’ve exterminated the closest thing we have to a nearby civilization only a couple hours ago, and you’ll die from either the cold or blood loss before you can find anyone else to help you. so let me.”

you glare at her, brilliant eyes flashing with a hint of loathing. she can basically see your internal debate, and how your mind wrestles at the thought between throttling her to the ground or taking up on her offer. finally, and with a pointed squeeze, you drop chaeyoung’s wrist and sneer. “do what you need to do.”

chaeyoung blinks, startled by your acquiescence, but reacts quickly. she settles her cold hand over the slope of your neck and closes her eyes, reaching inside herself for that shimmering pool of magic, as vital as the beat of her heart. her lips move, and beneath her palm, the skin on you starts to stitch together, healing the torn flesh underneath. the effort saps most of her energy and when she’s done, she limps over you, exhausted and freezing again.

your chest heaves, in a surprise shock, gaze still on her with wide eyes. chaeyoung swallows tightly, voice croaking.

“do you still plan to kill me now?”

the silence stretches the air again, too long for comfort, but not enough to be anything stupefying. your hands find her shoulders, and you wrench her back, gazing down at her, everything about her was a big question mark, a debate in morality. chaeyoung’s surprised as well, then, when you stand up and tug her up with you. you grab your cloak, tucking it tight beneath chaeyoung’s chin, before swooping down and lifting her over your shoulder. chaeyoung grapples against you, stunned when she feels you place her hands around the nape of your neck.

“i thought you were going to–” she gasps out.

“are you so used to deceit that you actually expect that i’d kill you after you just saved my life?”

chaeyoung blinks, shaking her head numbly. despite how predictable and simple minded you and your hunters were, she couldn’t make sense of you. “i-i thought you were going to. you wanted me dead.”

“i still do want you dead,” you say easily, and it cuts into her scattered thoughts like a swift blade. “but then i decide. your death belongs to me. not to some rabid animal, and not to the cold.”

yet, the cold is what is consuming the both of you now. dragging in her back down from the clouds of confusion and into the hellish earth with you.

“then do it,” chaeyoung whispers dimly.

you shift her into your arms, carrying her bridal style. “just you wait.”

you were forced to stop not even an hour later when you see chaeyoung turning blue.

chaeyoung doesn’t know why, exactly; she stopped feeling the cold about half an hour ago, which he insists is a problem when she haltingly informs you later, a tongue a mere stone in her mouth and her voice slurring.

you set her down against a tree when you see a small cave that will be good enough to keep you guys away from the harsh elements. chaeyoung watches you, dazed, eyelids heavy as you build a fire fast with just scattered pieces of dry wood and skinny sticks. once fanned to a successful height, you turn to her.

“do you feel warmer now?”

chaeyoung could barely move her lips. she wasn’t any warmer, but she wasn’t any colder either. her blood drifting along like ice in her veins, sluggish and thick.

“are you ignoring me, witch?” you snap. she makes a reply, but your annoyed expression suddenly shifts, shuffling closer and leaning down to reach inside your cloak so that you can touch your hands. you seethe through your teeth at the temperature of her skin, your rough palms skating past her scarred wrists to rest on her upper arms.

“you’re as cold as ice,” you mumble. “and you’re so stiff. you should be shivering like a newborn fawn.”

chaeyoung moans softly, shifting her head against the tree as her lips purse, eyes getting heavier and heavier. a sinking drowsiness tempting her to sleep, but before she was able to closer her eyes, you swat her cheek lightly with your fingers, holding a stern expression.

“stay awake. you have hypothermia,” you say, sliding your hands up and down chaeyoung’s numb legs.

“i…could’ve told y-you…”

“then why didn’t you say something to me before?” you snap with a frustration in your voice. chaeyoung notices that you’re a volatile person, your aura generous with an explosive punch. in the span of an hour, she loses track of the multitude of things she’s heard you condemn and curse at.

“cause i’d rather the cold…kill me than you,” chaeyoung slurs out lazily.

“that’s a bold lie. you’d rather kill me first.” you say as you pick her up again, setting her down on your lap in front of the fire. chaeyoung wants to resist this hold, revolted by the proximity, but the mantra of the village elders comes back to her mind again: survival over your pride. she barely has a choice to make in this.

chaeyoung leans against you, allowing to tuck her face into your shoulder. your hands slide down to her boots, fingers dipping over the lining of fur, testing its viable warmth before rubbing them up and down her legs. when she begins to shiver violently, you drape the cloak around the both of you and blow hot air into her icy hands. chaeyoung mumbles nothing but complete gibberish against the curve of your neck, struggling to make sense of your actions and with irritants in her body’s appreciation of them.

“w-why are you…doing this?” chaeyoung asks, forcing her stiff lips to move.

“doing what?”

“keeping m-me warm. s-saving me f-from the wolf. is…it b-because you’re th-th-thankful?”

“thankful?” you spit in disbelief. your motions going against chaeyoung’s shoulder in a jerked fashion, belying his wave of anger. “i could never feel gratitude towards a witch.”

“then w-what?”

“you said it first. we need each other to survive. i’d recommend you start worrying about your fate the second you suspect you’ve outlived your usefulness.”

chaeyoung feels a resentment boiling in her chest, appalled by the objectifying language you spat out–-like she’s an elderly bloodhound she’ll have to take down—but it doesn’t surprise her either; you hardly even think she’s human.

but despite the growing instinct to dismount herself from you and lose her battle to the elements, chaeyoung knows that you were right. that she is. the mountains in the dead of the winter weather was merciless for either of them to survive on their own. if she could grab the dagger from her belt and slit her throat right now, her thirst for revenge and vengeance might be sted, but her fate would already be sealed; she won’t last a week out in the cold without you..

a substantial part of herself almost didn’t care about it anymore, the satisfaction of her over your dead body would just be enough.

“get some sleep,” you whisper, oblivious to her internal conflict. “we’re gonna have a long day tomorrow.”

everything inside chaeyoung rails to do the complete opposite, if only to displease the needs towards you, but she’s too exhausted to be defiant, and the fire and bumpy slide of your fingers against her skin felt nice. her head drops, slipping down to your chest and within minutes. she’s dozed off to sleep along with you.

the next morning she wakes up in the cave, bundled up to her ears in both of their cloaks, positioned against the rocky wall. you squat in front of the fire, pacing away from the mouth of the cave. when you notice that chaeyoung’s awake, you pick up a rabbit leg and brush it against her nose.

“can you move?” you ask burly, “are you any warmer?”

chaeyoung blinks, surprised at the caring question. the offer, and wriggles around a little bit. she was pleased to find that her blood actually feels like normal blood again, and reaches out, taking the food from your hand. she turns the leg over curiously with lips pursed.

“don’t worry, it isn’t poisioned.” you scoff.

“why should i believe you?”

you then abruptly snatch her wrist. chaeyoung flinches, expecting your grip to tighten up, almost to break bone, but all you do is lean forward to take a bite out of her rabbit leg. your jaw works as you chew while leaning back, eyebrows raised as if to ask, there? is that what you wanted?

chaeyoung couldn’t think of a proper response. dazed, she brings the food to her mouth.

“if you can walk,” you say, as you eat. “we should start moving. i would like to make the most of the light that we have for today.”

she swallows before asking, “for what?”

“what do you mean, ‘for what?’ we’re stranded. we need to find some place other than here closer to the kingdom.”

“and what happens after that? do we go our separate ways? or do we kill each other like civilized people?”

you bare your teeth into a mean grin. “i suppose that depends on how i feel when that moment comes.”

chaeyoung frowns, leaning against the wall, unmoved by your cruelty. under your cloak, she attempts to wiggle her toes, frustrated by the effort. “i still can’t walk,” she mumbles, ashamed, “not really at all. my limbs still feel too weak.”

you shrug, gnawing on your own rabbit leg. “i’ll carry you.”

“are you sure you’ll want to?” she snaps, looking at you. her fault, she thinks, self-pity morphing into indignation, depsisting you anew. it’s her fault. “you don’t want to chop my legs off first? just to make me an easier weight to lug around?”

“choose your words wisely, witch,” you warn, eyes glittering with malice, the thrill of an enticing challenge, if only she’ll invite her to go that far. “if you tempt me with more exhilarating ideas like that, i might have to listen to you.”

chaeyoung glowers darkly at you. a million insults running through her mind, each more rancid than the other, but he obvious revelment in her rage keeps her from speaking it. you had enough victories over her, she decides.

instead, she turns away from you, gnawing a piece of the rabbit’s thigh into her mouth.

the first day of ‘real’ traveling through the harsh tundra. nothing but back and forth of bursts of trudging through the snow. it was nothing but a chore for you to ensure that chaeyoung was arm, heating her up when needed, all that in between carrying her. that was the deal. she also notices how quickly susceptible to the cold that left you, the instinct to help you leaves her unsettled but all leaves a simple justification: survival your over pride. i still need her.

two days pass and chaeyoung feels somewhat recovered. moving her body more and more idly and she’s able to walk farther distances without you having to sweep into your arms every time she cracks in the cold. it was already difficult as it is, food being scarce, the winds pinching away at the skin. the both of you realize the condition that you’re in and she’s the first one to bring it up.

“we’re lost aren’t we.”

you stop, the ground breaking under your feet. already, she can sense the annoyance. “what?”

“we’re lost,” she says again, looking around with an arm flared out, “we’ve passed this tree five times now.”

you face her irritably, “i know how to move around these woods. we’re fine.”

“you’re so unbearably blind.” chaeyoung protests, “have you forgotten that we’re stranded on a mountain, and in the middle of nowhere? we don’t have clothes, no shelter, and we can’t even scrape up food up for–”

“i’m a fucking hunter!”

“well you can’t hunt now! the animals around here are hibernating! the only reason that we’re still alive is that we’ve been lucky to not die yet!”

“no.” you walk over to chaeyoung, up close. she could see the snowflakes petering over your long hair. “we’re only alive because of me. i was the one who lit the fire. i hunted for food. and i was the one who found the cave.”

“and if we both die it’ll be because of you.” the wind blows against them, hair whipping up shivering, ducking into you reflexively as the sole shield radiating body and warmth. you oblige easily, raising a hand to cover chaeyoung’s face from the chill. the hypothermia was becoming more apparent, you both needed to depend on each other.

“okay,” your voice rumbling against her cheek, “i’ll find us something soon, hopefully.”

chaeyoung doesn’t thank you however, the shame was over her head greatly. you step away to start walking and she follows along just after.

it had already turned to dusk when the two of you stumbled at a cabin. the blizzard was already hindering your vision, you drag chaeyoung by the wrist, heaving all that you could despite how slowly she was moving.

in a wave of positive relief, the door wasn’t bolted down and the knob easily surrendered to your grip. shifting chaeyoung to a bridal carry as you walk past the door frame, she slumps alonsgide your chest, stars in her eyes spotting the large bed with a steep pile of fur blankets and a fireplace.

“god,” chaeyoung sighs out with a smile tugging her lips. “w-we might actually s-s-s-survive this.”

you drop chaeyoung to the ground suddenly, a startled yelp as she steadies herself on her feet, still weak.

“you had to remind me that you’re a skeptic just like that.” you mutter, pushing behind her.

chaeyoung primes a scowl amidst the passing thought of you forgetting and asks cooly, “d-did i offend your high sens-s-siblities?”

“you’re funny.” you snort kneeling at the fireplace, fingers trembling as you attempt to get a fire starting.

“you m-m-might have h-hyopthermia,” she says.

“and if i do, then you do too. it seems my cloak and your thin nightgown did little to protect you from the cold.”

“n-not my fault for being underd-dressed. i was ya-yanked off my bed in the m-middle of the n-night.”

you roll your eyes.

chaeyoung watches you work in the howling silence. you had found the discarded logs in a set corner of the room and tossed them into the pit. you worked fast however, lighting a spark beneath your flint and steel, fanning the embers until a steady flame appeared in the thin air.

“this place reeks.” you say, leaning back while chaeyoung huffs.

“it’s y-you. your clothes stink.”

“because i’ve let you use them to keep you warm. i’ve been doing all the work here.” you say, standing up. you sniff the collar on your back, chaeyoung nearly laughs at your srcunched face in disgust. “you are right, our clothes are dirty.”

“i can w-wash them tomorrow.”

“good.”

chaeyoung nods and turns around, scanning the darkinteriror. there was a simple rack placed against the wall–probably for clothes and other essential wear, there were some utensils. no kitchen but the hearth, but after fighting against the cold with the food being cooked over a small fire, even that seems something worth celebrating. she smiles, turing around to face you again.

“s-say, you think tomorrow you’ll b-be able to–”

your shirt was off.

she wasn’t sure why the image of you strikes her acutely as it did, but it was there and you were shirtless. your black coat, knit sweater, the layered tunics, and your sweaty bra lay at your feet, leaving you in your pants and boots, discarding those right after. when you catch chaeyoung’s eye, she twists away, blood boiling under her skin.

“w-what are you doing?!” she demands loudly, flustered that her head is ringing. “why are y- why are you na- are you really–?”

“because our clothes are wet and we’ll both die of hypothermia if we don’t warm our bodies up quickly,” you simply reply, “and you did say the smell.”

“i-i can just wash t-them!”

“with what!? we don’t have soap.”

“i can use my–”

“i’m not an idiot like the hunters i brought with me, witch. i know that your magic needs an output—your hands—and something solid. you can’t just will things with air alone. it’s either you get your clothes off or we both freeze to death. the nightgown you’re wearing doesn't do much as it already is.”

chaeyoung stares at the wall, fingers bunching up against her sleeves, which are half frozen and stark cold. even with the fire gradually heating the small cabin, she’s still shivering, fingers hinted purple. it’s a decision she has to make.

“fine,” she snaps soon after, reaching for the hem of her gown, “but if-if you look, i’ll–”

“my heart won’t dance for a desire to see you barren, witch. in fact—” you toss a large pelt of fur at her, making her gasp at the weight of it. “cover yourself when you’re done.”

she frowns but nods silently, glancing over her shoulder to see if you’re looking (you weren’t) and pulls the gown over her head, tugging the socks and underwear off as well. covering herself with the fur, exhaling through her closed teeth. when she approaches the fire, you look over to her, ears slightly hinted with pink, lips and eyebrows clasped together on themselves at what chaeyoung was doing.

“are you seriously trying to warm yourself in front of the fire? have you no knowledge of proper warming techniques?”

“what?” chaeyoung asks defensively.

you sit up, the blanket draping to your waist, exposing your skin and the tailored muscle of your upper body. “we need to share body heat to stay warm.”

chaeyoung blinks rapidly, flustered. “but we’re naked.”

“that’s kind of the whole point of this thing.”

“if this is some attempt to–”

“what?” your eyes flash at her challenge, daring to say what she can bring herself to think straight, and after a few moments, she turns away and sighs out.

“alright,” she starts off, crawling towards you, keeping the large fur on her body with a skin tight grip. “but if you have the slightest thought of—”

“i’d rather feed myself to the wolves than to touch you.” you spit out in frustration. chaeyoung feels a small hint of dismay. your disgust is a doting reminder that you don’t consider her to be a human being.

the thought chills chaeyoung even after she’s snuggles herself beneath the covers. her skin easing up with shivers, startled when you grab her shoulder.

“relax,” you say, inching closer. your eyes were shining with utmost intensity. “this is how we survive together.”

you huddle closer, your hand slipping through her naked waist and dragging chaeyoung up against you, pressing chests together. a punched out exhale and trembles with so much force that she feels the vibration to her bones. your skin was cold like hers, but there's a small relief with the contact. chaeyoung knows this is how we survive together, and places her hand on your neck.

you tense at the contact, growling with a flush of pink on your cheeks. “what are you—?”

chaeyoung hushes you. “i’m warming you u-up, mean hunter.”

you zip your lips after that, eyes getting hazy and after a few seconds, you tap chaeyoung’s hand off.

the heat loosens your limbs as it grows between you two. chaeyoung sighs, her wet hair brushing against your neck as she shifts. you whisper, “l/n.”

“what?”

“my name, y/n l/n.”

she already knew that though. “okay.” chaeyoung huffs out.

“what’s yours? or should i keep calling you witch.?”

chaeyoung doesn’t want you to call her anything; names carry so much weight; putting a face to it, making them stand out and different than others, but the warmth must’ve softened her under the covers because she answers your question. “son chaeyoung.”

“son chaeyoung.” you say her name slowly, accent hugging the syllables the same way her father’s did. the comparison seems too similar.

within minutes after speaking names, you both fall asleep.

you wake up the morning after the first night with the witch pressed to your chest, her arms wrapped around your middle, and cheek pressed flat against your breast. her hair on the crown of her head tickles your chin.

you swat it away with your hands, negating the spike of panic trickling down your spine, and you shift, trying to extract yourself from her grip. chaeyoung hums softly in protest, clinging to you tighter as her eyes flutter open, long lashes shadowing her cheeks. her gaze is half-lidded, exhausted, but once she notices who she’s clinging onto, she pulls away from you as you both sit up on the large bed.

the awkward silence filling the space between you two, curdling thoughts in your head, but before you could utter something, chaeyoung turned around, her small mouth pressed to a frown.

“i need animal fat and some wood.” she says, before you could even conjure up a good morning—which you wouldn't have, “so you go hunt today.”

you eyes squint as you fix your seated position. chaeyoung scoots away to the corner of the bed, her furs covering her slipping beneath the slope of her petite breasts. an action which earns a warning look from you.

“what’s the use of these items?”

“to make soap for the laundry. you’ll have to use your dirty clothes still, but the sooner you get me these things, the better.”

“how do you expect to make soap from fat and bark?”

“the elders have taught me everything i know.”

you get up from the bed without looking at chaeyoung, not fazed by the resentment, shivering as you cross over to the lonely rack pilfered with all of the dirty clothes that you’ve worn for the past couple of days. the smell still penetrating through your nostrils, she was right about getting these clothes washed as soon as possible.

after tugging the heavy jacket over your toned body, you feel chaeyoung’s gaze lasering on you, causing you to turn around and raise a brow at her.

“anything else?”

“try to get a few animals. i’m gonna need more than one to make enough soap for both of us and our clothes.”

“that all?”

“come back quickly, we don’t have any food still.” a second passes before she grumbles another lasting addition. “it’s also cold, so it’s not safe for you to be out that long.”

you feel your lips twitching—to a frown and surely, “you sound like my old nana.”

chaeyoung keeps a straight face cooly. “go.”

you obey while rolling your eyes out the door. slinging a bow and quiver of arrows as you stepped out to the frigid cold, wrapping your cloak more deeply with a drawn out exhale. the thought of tossing the witch chaeyoung out here in the snow for her to suffer as well, but the thought was pointless, nearly impractical.

as you walk into the forest about twenty minutes away from the cabin, your mind falls into a calming state, a serenity as such with every calming breath leaving your mouth. ears perking to any sudden sound while brandishing your weapon. your experience breaking through the many lessons taught by your father and late brother before they both died. the image of them passing through your mind as the anger from the old memory rises up again.

a rabbit comes into you line of vision, looking over a small snowy hill with its head moving in all directions, leaping away when it sees you, but you were faster with the arrow shot lodging into its eye.

“one, but let’s pray that there isn’t a bear nearby.”

chaeyoung had instructed you to not be out for long, but there's the thought that you and her will be staying in the cabin longer than anticipated, so by getting familiar with the present surroundings around your makeshift home was the more logical idea. everything once barren with life was covered in snow. the cold was unforgiving as it is, a beauty that you could admire.

the new area is opened up more when you see a frozen lake, placed in the middle of the dead trees. crows surround the lake, flying around before disappearing into the white sky.

you notice another nearby bird and rabbit, drawing both of your arrows to shoot them at the same time. the bag behind you was now filled with various pieces of animal corpses and wood, the gusts of wind not letting up as you gripped your cloak to ease your shivering.

“i wished i could be back home, not dealing with any of this ‘life test’.” you say out loud, looking up at the sky and smiling scornfully.

the thoughts of going back home once all of this was still a hopeful premonition you prayed to see through, but you’re reminded of the current situation with chaeyoung still waiting for you back in the cabin.

gut twisting, gazing at the frozen ice guarding the lake, wondering what the witch was doing. if she was keeping herself warm by the fire, waiting for your return, while you did the dirty work. you growl at the idea, opposed to be heeding to her calls. you swear to finish all of this by making her suffer when the moment presents itself.

and you will complete the mission, to get the information about the location of the other witches from her before doing the same thing you did to chaeyoung’s village almost an entire week ago.

it all could’ve been so simple; just slit her throat and leave her. going back home brings a smile to your lips, you could already picture the look on her face, how her hands will claw your shoulders, begging for her life to be spared. the dagger that you used for the wolves and other witches you’ve slain will be the sole tool–pinning her against the floor and then—

you crack open the door and stomp off the snow from your sleek boots, hearing a soft hum coming form the fireplace at the other end. the song preaching about peace and tranquil, hopes of good times coming back sung by a bright pleasant voice that stops all of your motions.

that’s all stopped suddenly since you startled the witch–chaeyoung–as she faced you, her black eyes wide, color piercing through the cheeks. she sits in front of the fireplace, still naked in the bundle of furs, still embarrassed, to no surprise.

you fight off the urge to smile. ignoring the moment to relish in your delusional madness.

“you sing like a pretty angel.” you greet with a sheepish tone in your voice, making her irritated automatically.

“i appreciate the compliment.” chaeyoung scowls at you.

you step inside more, expression miffed. “i wasn’t…you think i was teasing?”

“weren’t you?”

“yes,” you immediately answer. your face shifts again, “i was actually, you calming baby beast.”

“don’t call me that!” she snaps at you, flushing down to her feet, before turning back to the fireplace. she stares at the flame, senses up to eleven as you approach her, holding your bag to her. she takes it, fingers hitting each other for a second, gasping at the sudden cold on our gloves, facing you as she smooths her hand under the sleeves of your cloak and up your wrist.

“you’re ice cold,” a concerned tone in her voice and stands up. she walks you to the bed, hand on your stomach, dropping to the bed as she pushes you to face the ceiling. you stare at her dazed, chaeyoung placing her palms on the sides of your neck. closing her eyes to focus, she pulses a surge of warmth beneath the hands, sending that same heat to your body. you sigh out a harsh sound, once chaeyoung pull away from you she was satisfied with her work, noticing the pain wincing on your face.

“thank you.” you were able to croak out.

chaeyoung nods, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks, stepping away. clinging to her fur tightly reminded of the fact that she was still naked under them, and a lot colder now that she’s used her magic; warming you up with her own body heat.

you sense this, shooting up to your feet and headed to the same rack that held your clothes before you left this morning, fishing out a garment that was printed with strawberries all over it. she looks at the childish looking fabric as you wrap it over her neck, ears pink as she meets your eyes again.

“i saw this before i left to hunt.” you say with a low voice, “you also have less clothes compared to me. this should help you a little bit at least.” a few heartbeats pass before you ask, “are you warm?”

“yes.” chaeyoung replies, hardly uttering from the lump in her throat in addition to the churning turmoil unsettling in her gut.

you nod. it’s a stoic movement, as if you were unfamiliar with your own act of kindness. you step off to teh side and let her pass, looking away from the new space of proximity.

“i’ll make the soap now.”

“good. let me know if you need more things from outside.” you say to her without even looking.

“you need a bath,” chaeyoung says, almost immediately after she finished up their laundry. “we both do.”

you look up from your plateful of rabbit, a hint of bread crumbs on your lips. the clothes were drying over the rack, near the fire, so they sat with thick furs covering them.

“you’re saying that i smell?” you ask.

“horribly, you have no idea how hard it is to sleep next to you.”

“didn’t look like that to me earlier this morning.”

chaeyoung scowls but leaves you to finish the rest of your dinner. once finished, and the clothes have finally dried up, you take the large bucket and step outside. five minutes later you come back inside with the bucket filled with snow and sit back down while they wait. “you gonna go first?”

“no.” chaeyoung says instantly. “you have to.”

“why me?”

“because you’re the one doing the labor.” and hunting, building the fires, carried me around the wilderness for five days, chaeyoung thinks but won’t actually admit. a thought that shouldn’t have crossed her mind but it did. “you smell worse compared to me.”

your eyes squint in offense, but recede any sort of argument against her. she watches you sniff your arm when you think she looked away for a second, nodding after in agreement.

when the water in the bucket stars to boil, dragging it away from the fireplace, waiting for it to cool down. once at a bearable temperature, you strip. chaeyoung’s cheeks shoot red and immediately turns toward the small dining table. you had a terrible habit of doing that in front of her. any given moment to change, you never gave her a heads up.

“this bucket is a little small baby beast.” you grumble, chaeyoung fights the response of stop calling me that–she’s tried. no luck, you were attached to that nickname now–turning around to say, “not a bucket technically, more of a tub and–”

she stops herself with a muted giggle, pressing her fingers to lips. you stare at her, your arms submerged in the water, knees peeking through the surface and your shoulders shuugged up to your ears. as she just thought, you were a little too tall with muscle to actually fit inside.

“don’t–”

“i wasn’t laughing, nothing that you do is amusing enough.”

“then how come you’re smiling at me right now?”

“i’m not–” cutting yourself off when she notices something, pulling her hand away at the new question in her head. “are you not going to wash your hair?”

“i just did.”

“it doesn’t look like it touched the water.”

“i put some water in it.”

“with soap?”

“just water.”

chaeyoung cringes while standing up. “you’re an idiot, you have long hair and you don’t know how to wash it?”

“i know how to!” you retort. “i just don’t like sleeping with wet hair.”

“well you’re not going to sleep if you don’t was your hair.”

“alright!” you snap, reaching for the small bar of soap and rubbing it in between your palms. “are you happy now?”

“not exactly what i meant.” chaeyoung replies while watching you weave your fingers through your hair with the soapy substance. she steps closer to you, dipping her fingers into the water to wet them a little bit, picking up the bar of soap and runs her fingers through your hair.

with the initial stiffness, you relax into her easing touch, leaning towards her when she rubs her thumbs against your temples. the water was more tepid now than five minutes ago, so with a deep breath, chaeyoung draws heat to her palms, scraping lightly against your scalp, sighing out in relief.

chaeyoung’s fingers slide down to the nape of your neck, massaging the tense muscle group there. you slouch even more, mouth parte, and she starts to take note of the lines on your face: the high brow and sharp cheekbones, the pink curve of your mouth, and the flawless sculpt of your jaw. the roots of your hair on the top of your head were healthy to chaeyoung’s shock.

she also doesn’t recall seeing someone like you growing up and going to many different villages of different witches, but you really were a beautiful woman, a shame that beauty was wasted on you.

“you’ve been feeling my face for too long, witch.” you slur out, fingers still tickling your scalp as chaeyoung clicks her tongue.

“i think i’d rather drown you like this, idiot hunter.”

“y/n.” you whipser mindlessly, before holding yourself back of speaking another word. once washing the suds away from your hair, chaeyoung wipes her hands in the fur. you look at her, blinking the dreamy layer in your eyes, and it was here that the reality of her actions begin to brew a change of heart. she turns away, staring at her kneecaps.

you get up from the large bucket and dry yourself with a stretch of fabric that chaeyoung found while you were out. after putting back on the clean, dry clothes, you take the bucket back outside and return with a fresh pile of snow for chaeyoung’s bath.

why did i do that? chaeyoung thinks slently, embarrassment through the roof within her. i didn’t need to do that.

just minutes later you come back inside, placing the bucket near the fire again. you turn to seek chaeyoung again, finding her on the floor clearly shivering.

“are you cold?” you ask, reaching for her stack of furs.

“a little b-bit.”

“you’re freezing.” you observe, covering her with the pelt of fur before placing your palm on the flat side of her cheek.

“it’s the fire isn’t it.”

“no i-it’s my magic.”

“your magic?”

“when i-i warm my palms, i have to use my o-own body h-heat to use it. making me a l-lot more colder t-then for a c-couple of h-hours.”

your face becomes slack jawed, “so that’s why you were cold when i came back earlier?”

chaeyoung nods, your brows furrow, and you pull the bucket away from the fire. you place your hand on the outer rim, letting the hot water burn your fingers. “you should’ve waited for me.”

“i had t-to. we need each other remember? i can’t survive if you’re suffering from hypothermia too.”

“this shouldn’t be an issue, chaeyoung.”

“well for now it is, but i need you to be healthy for me in order to get better.”

“and i need you to be warm for me.”

chaeyoung’s throat closes in on itself. the crackling flame was all that was heard in the room. its light emiitng just enough for her eyes to see your harsh muscle and shadowed outlines, but your eyes were soft and gleaming. dark brown.

as always since they first met, she was the one to turn away from you first.

you sigh, tapping the bucket, “your bath is ready baby beast. hurry up so that we can go to bed, it’s late.”

the days pass by and the routine was oh so easy to fall into, nothing else mattered–but your own survival.

you get up in the mornings while chaeyoung is still asleep to build the fire up so that when you leave to go hunting again, the cabin would be already warm for her when she wakes up. to keep themselves busy, she would make breakfast next to the fireplace that they eat together on the floor.

if there was a small shortage of food, you’d go out to hunt. if the clothes were dirty, chaeyoung would be the one to wash them. a tear in the fabric, she sews them. regular housekeeping duties as the harsh winter weather starts to let up little by little, day by day.

on one occasion, you bring back a pocketful of nuts, probably stolen from a squirrel or something of that degree, and it excites chaeyoung beyond all reason.

she’s enjoying this far more than she should, but it was so simple to think about.

“you’re from the kingdom?” chaeyoung asks, one morning while still snuggled up in bed.

it was early that the sun was breaking through the peaks, a calming white light glaring through the windows. you lean up on your elbow, cheek against your fist as you softly smile at her. “have you ever been to the mainland? or a city for that matter?”

“no.” chaeyoung admits, unashamed from the snickering coming out of your mouth soon after. “i grew up in the mountains.”

“for all of your life?”

“pretty much, but with my parents of course.”

“i figured.” you smugly say, rubbing your finger against the beauty mark under the right side of her bottom lip. “you didn’t look like the others back in the village.”

chaeyoung looks away from your gaze for a moment, recalling the image of little diana’s body. a wave of anger building up from the sentimental moment, but she doesn’t want to think about it now.

“they took me in after my parents died.” she says to you. you expression shifts and you lean a little more closer with the cover still enveloping you.

“how old were you when that happened?”

“i was nine. a sudden plague sweeped the town i was living at and it nearly took everyone. at the same time, a wise woman found me and sensed my potential power, so she asked me to come with her.”

“that must’ve been hard.”

“it was, but i didn’t have anywhere to go.”

you stare, a strange glint dashing at your eyes. after a moment, “i lost my mother too around that age.”

“oh.” chaeyoung breathes out, leaning up to match you. “was she also caught with the sickness too?”

you sit up, gaze still locked with hers, face not contorting a single emotion at all, “not exactly.”

sitting on the edge of the bed, you grip the frame with your fingers, chaeyoung’s resenmnt tolls through her again; she didn’t like how you’d get suddenly depressed when you were just simply opening up about your life to her. it was unbearable to watch sometimes.

she sits next to you, touching your arm. when you look back at her, she asks, “tell me more about this kingdom.”

“why would you want to know?”

“beacuse i want to hear what it’s like, the mountains here are the only thing i know around here.”

“well,” you huff out, “where do i even start? we have houses like yours, but built properly, people in the kingdom have similar jobs like yours; eating, cleaning, trading. it’s all protected by this wall that keeps most of the outside threats away.

“really? it’s the same as the village?”

you smirk, “yes, sort of, but it’s kind of like the same concept really.” you say, clutching your leg as you stare up at the ceiling.

she hums with a slight giddy to her attitude, you then ask, “so what about you? what’s it like in the village?”

chaeyoung purses her lips thinking about the question, trying to not say anything stupid, “well, when i wasn’t focused on my craft, i was always keeping an eye on the younger girls.”

“your village was all girls?”

“yes,” chaeyoung admits, blushing a bit. “in fact, you’re the first woman hunter that i’ve seen as a proper leader of their pack.”

“really?”

“mhm” she hums, pressing her jaw against her knee, eyes trailing off your jawline. “i’ve always wondered about something.”

“what is it?”

“are there other female witch hunters like you?”

“well,” you start off by saying, “i’ve heard the rumors but to my knowledge i’m the only one around here.”

“oh.”

“you seem shocked.”

“i’m not.” she says, shaking her head. “you’re a lot more mature than the disgusting men you had as your fellow hunters.”

“i appreciate the compliment, those men were dumbasses towards you after all.”

chaeyoung scoffs at what you said, gazing into your features again as the light started breaking more and more into the cabin.

“we should start the day early shouldn’t we?” you say, grabbing a shirt from one of the posts on the bed and slipping it on, “i still have the three birds that you can cook from yesterday, that’s our breakfast.”

“okay.”

“i’ll also get more firewood outside too, we’re almost out.”

“okay.” chaeyoung says again, but before you start to head out she adds, “i’m glad that it’s you that i’m stuck with and not those men.”

your lips part for a moment, “i’m glad that we’ve survived for this long together too.”

“so what about–”

you toss the strawberry printed fabric towards chaeyoung on the bed, cheeks hinting with a small pink facing away from her, “you’re gonna need this.”

“baby beast.”

chaeyoung moans softly under the covers, turning away from your hand and tries to go back to sleep. the hand at her shoulder continues to shake her more persistently, “wake up, i wanna show you something.”

she huffs out and rolls to her left side, facing you, eyes fluttering open to meet yours. you smile and lean over her, bruising the wispy bangs from her face. “are you gonna get out of bed now?”

“why?” she asks, nearly whining. your grin widens at the sound of her tickling your ear drums.

“there’s a lake here i want you to see.”

“the lake?” chaeyoung stretches out to see you shuffle over to the other end of the cabin, fetching her cloak and boots, shoving her feet inside the warm objects while wrapping the cloak over her shoulders, watching you pat down the cloak and tie the strings at her chest. getting the small strawberry printed fabric for her to carry in her pocket.

“what’s there at the lake?” she asks you, rubbing her eyes again to make her more awake.

“nothing special.” you say, but your eyes were beaming with pure excitement like a child, “i just want you to see it like i did.”

in a few minutes, both of you are properly dressed and out the door. despite the chilling air, chaeyoung sigs when she steps into the snowy ground, looking up to inhale the sharp, crisp air, watching her breath materialize into a small fog in front of her. she missed going outside because of the lack of body temperature and proper clothing.

you didn’t like chaeyoung to be out for more than actually needed, but the worst part of the winter had eased up by this point so it’s not that dangerous to get out of the cabin for once.

leading her into the first, chaeyoung is astonished by the sight, the trees arching above her head that she couldn’t see the branches on them. the white snow glittering beneath her feet, reflecting off the sunlight beaming down on them. the view was majestic, and a sight that she wishes she had forced herself up right away at first to see earlier.

you take her hand, chaeyoung looks up to see your impatience, dragging her along the trail, making her almost jog slightly because of your long graceful strides.

“why are we walking fast? won’t we scare the animals?”

“yes, but i’m technically hunting them so it wouldn’t even matter. anyway, better for us to make noise to scare a wolf or bear rather than staying quiet and run into one.”

“and if we did?”

you smirk, “then i’d kill it myself to get a new coat.” you say with eagerness.

chaeyoung doesn’t have the courage to tell you that you’d likely die before pulling that off.

you and her both slow down your pace once guiding her past the slew of trees. with your hands on chaeyoung’s shoulders, you push her past the short bushes and into an open space. her view takes in the frozen lake in the center, sprinkled with snow in different patches across the icy layer. she sees a lonely cub sliding across the lake, clearly lost looking for its mother.

you lean in close, your breath tickling the hair on her nape, “do you see that little bear cub standing there?”

“i do.”

the cub then runs away funnily, reaching the other side of the lake with ease before disappearing into the sea of trees. “it reminds me of you, baby beast.”

chaeyoung then rips her gaze away from the sight to look up at you, staring down at her, the shine her eyes becoming more and more familiar, almost as if she’s used to your teasing, then glancing away from you after. her body warms up suddenly, but not to the point to diminish the shiver that rolls across her skin when another wave of wind blows in again, making you turn chaeyoung into your arms.

“cold?”

“i–”

you didn’t even bother waiting for her answer, hands sliding beneath her cloak and around her waist. her nightgown bunching up between your palms, sliding them up and down, making chaeyoung flush up quickly, turning her head to your throat and closing her eyelids against your neck.

“how’s that feel?”

“better.” chaeyoung whispers against your skin.

she wants to break away from your grasp. the fact that you’re holding her and she’s allowing it should be ringing alarms in her head, she’s supposed to push you away, but for some reason–she can’t find a reason why.

“i think we should head back now. the cold is getting to you again.”

“it isn’t, but—” a sudden realization comes back to her mind, glazing at the mound of snow before meeting your eyes, hands clasping yours through the thick woolen gloves. “can i show you something before we go?”

“um, yeah. sure.” you reply confusedly, thrown off by her earnestness.

chaeyoung then pulls you over to a small area nearby the meeting point of the frozen lake with the ground, eyes flickering towards before looking at the snow. closing her eyes and exhaling out a warm breath against the icy surface, a small sparkle shimmers through her fingertips for a few seconds. at the end of that, a snowdrop appears to sprout from the cold dirt. she smiles with her mouth stretching from one end of her face to the other, glancing at you looking intrigued.

“do you like it?”

you knelt down to examine the flower, studying it with a tilted head. “i’ve never seen this one in the books back at home. what is it?”

“oh, it’s just some kind of flower. i don’t actually know what it is either, but it’s pretty isn’t it?”

you pluck the flower from the ground as soon she finishes her answer, breath hitching when you nestle it in between her hair, fingers grazing the outer lobe of her ear. you smile, your eyes warm with so much fondness as well as glowing in a soft color, a calming color actually.

“it’s beautiful.” you whisper out.

chaeyoung almost cries, catching herself melt for a slight second.

later on the way back to the cabin, chaeyoung hears a string of cracks in the trees to her right side. you pick up on the sound too, putting yourself in front of her as protection when they see the movement in the lines of trunks finally come into formation—another wolf.

chaeyoung is startled at the similar sight of the wolf that tried to devour her when she first got captured, but this was different since she was now with you, but the situation wasn’t safe just yet.

“we’re gonna make a run for the cabin, okay? it’s just up this trail. chaeyoung, i need you to keep your head forward and don’t look back, i’ll draw it’s attention away from you.”

“but-”

“i need you to trust me.” you say, “i’ll protect you, just get to the cabin. let me take care of this.”

chaeyoung swallows the growing lump in her throat, complying with your request. the both of you start running with the wolf tailing just a few meters away behind you two. the cabin was just a couple short seconds away and you look back at the wolf who was approaching closer.

“get inside and lock the door!” you command chaeyoung as she continues to run up the trail, doing exactly as you were told while she still worried about you. she couldn’t bear to look out the window, her ears hearing your yells and the wolf growls, the bashing of different objects mixed in with your pants.

she didn’t know how long it was since she first got back inside, but to her shock, she sees you stumbling inside the door, carrying something very unfamiliar.

chaeyoung notices the many gashes that were marked on your skin, the body of the same wolf that chased you two just behind you, the fur scratched, but still salvageable.

“did you just?!” she cries out, rushing towards you, grabbing your head while you wore a mad grin, eyes half lidded and face scratched up.

“you were right about the wolf thing you know.”

“i can’t—” her breath hitches, choking down a sob. “i can’t believe you did that.”

you grip matches hers on your wrist that was on your face, “i protected you,” you whisper out, getting hazily.

the way that your head was moving so much and the glint in your eyes, it seemed that the fight almost took you out entirely.

chaeyoung huffs, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and brings you to the bed, where she lays you down carefully, smoothing your hair away from your disfigured face from the cuts. she leaves you to get a bowl full of snow from outside, you frowning once she returned.

“why’d you go outside?”

“to get you something to cool these cuts from the stupid wolf.”

“but i killed it still.”

“well that doesn’t matter!” chaeyoung snaps at you, placing the bowl on top of the fireplace. “take your shirt and bra off, i have to see your other cuts for me to properly heal you.”

you pout but follow along by taking off the jacket from your shoulders, wincing while the shirt came off of you, leaving you barren with your breasts out. chaeyoung notices the additional marks scattered across your midsection. if you did…and she wasn’t here with you—

“sorry, for being stupid.” you say with a prideful gloat.

“y/n, i can’t—” chaeyoung cries out, covering her mouth. “you could have died if you fought any longer.”

“say that again.”

“huh?!”

she pulls her hands way from her mouth, meeting your eyes as you clasp her wrist again, eyes looking woozy, almost drunken. “my name, say it again, baby beast.”

“y/n, what—”

you groan out in rapture, chaeyoung blushes for a second before taking the wet rag and swipes it across your skin, brushing over the wounds carefully. at the end, the water is coloered with a hint of pink and the rag is completely soaked, but the wounds are cleaned, now it’s just a matter of getting you patched up.

chaeyoung taps your cheek, leaning over you, “okay, i need you to be awake for this next part. i’m going to heal your wounds.”

“wait don’t–” you mumble out.

“why?” a wall of protection builds from her facial expression, “you don’t want my demon magic over you?”

“i don’t want you to faint on me.”

“it’s fine.” chaeyoung mutters, ducking her head in shame before centering her hands over your abs.

she moves her hands across your upper body, healing every slice and tear that was across your flesh. even the minor bruises from the bumps and hits you took not from the wolf, ensuring that everything was healed properly. once finished, chaeyoung collapses on top of you, her head drowsy.

“i told you to not faint silly.”

“you left me,” she trails off, “no other choice.” whispering the last sentence before passing out, making you shift her over your lap, wrapping your arms around her for a slight hug–a sign of thankfulness coming out of you which was rare.

“looks like i have to take care of you now.”

chaeyoung was already passed out as you slide her underneath the furs, secugen her across your chest, nestling her face on your warm skin, feeling her pulse beat under your fingers. the relief finally settles in her, letting out a small sob. since when did the thought of you dying start to terify her more than being alive?

as chaeyoung fingers graze your bare back, you plant a faint kiss on her temple and cheek.

“rest well, chaeyoung."

#i really enjoyed reading this esp bc i love fantasy concepts (also witch!chaeyoung is such an excellent idea i gasped)#your use of imagery is so striking i love it so much #it’s bold and VIVID and imaginative #i really adore the progression of their relationship but i also admire how there’s not necessarily any forgiveness for their beginning #it’s intense and strained but still tender and intimate #chaeyoung washing reader’s hair and massaging you when she doesn’t really NEED to….. my heart exploded #reader rubbing chaeyoung’s beauty mark while snuggled in bed together pls i’ll cry #also going from i'd rather die than be touched by your demon magic to i don't want you to faint on me!! the development is so satisfying #there were so many lines i liked but one i’ll mention is: everything about her was a big question mark a debate in morality #they both throw each other entirely off kilter and can be so unpredictable towards each other #also if u read this ty for being my first moot LOL #chaeyoung x reader

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hiraiologist · 3 months

Text

like last year’s vogue

minatozaki sana x fem!reader

synopsis: and maybe you’re just tired of the limitations of wealth, the grandeur, the opulence. maybe you’re just tired of seeing the same people day in and day out. but without that, there’s only sana — sana who smirks at you like there's a joke you’re never in on, who shows up in spaces she doesn’t belong and makes you want her.

tags: rich kids!au ; smut ; bondage ; edging ; praising ; spanking ; strapping ; sana has her middle-class shit together ; kinda friends to lovers ; friends with benefits ; and anything else i’ve missed

author’s note: money, sex, power. inspired by the wolf of wall street, which if you haven’t watched yet, can be described in three words. money, sex, power. (and drugs, so maybe not three words.) not proofread!!

you are a pretentious bitch.

the only reason sana knows you at all is because you run in nayeon’s circle, where all twenty-somethings do: haughty, bored, and with more money than they’ve ever had original ideas. she’d met you months previously with your lips a dark red and your eyelids smoky, extending a hand as if dainty, delicate. as if you’d expected sana to bring it to her mouth and leave a kiss. like you’d known her own worth and took great pleasure in marking it up.

the two of you had clasped hands. “minatozaki sana?” you’d said mildly. “nayeon talks about you... frequently.”

sana had smiled, tight, and then eyed your leather pants and boots and white crop top underneath your fuzzy grey cardigan — no doubt worth thousands of dollars — and said, “nayeon talks about you when you’re relevant to her story.”

your eyes had narrowed; the corner of your mouth curled. something had passed between you both, then; something sana understood.

nobody talked back to you like that, because nobody ever talked back to rich kids.

and you, in all your pompous, disdainful, raven-haired and golden-eyed grandeur, loved it.

sana only manages invites to very specific events, but she’s never left out of a single one meant for her: kickbacks, birthday parties, my-parents-are-out-of-town ragers; everything that doesn’t require money itself to pass.

she’s not in your circle — she’s not wealthy, doesn’t have important parents, doesn’t come from splendor and opulence — but she’s cool. she’s effortlessly cool, the kind half the kids spend inordinate amounts of money attempting to replicate. she has her own apartment, and she isn’t in a bad neighborhood. she knows exactly who she is and what she’s doing with it, and it’s the kind of self-sufficient stability everyone else admires. it’s like she doesn’t need money, like it doesn’t impress her at all — and it’s insanely, outrageously appealing.

she also restores motorcycles for a living, an occupation that gives her incredibly defined muscles and the enviable air of honest, hard work; she also knows how to ride them, a detail you’re once again forced to reckon with when sana roars up to nayeon’s on a friday night, straddling the seat of a yellow-to-orange hued 1940 indian chief. glossy, beautiful, like it’s never been touched — she’s probably put months of work into it.

jay and mark meet her at the end of the driveway, already eager and awed like five-year old boys rather than adults; she slips her helmet off her head, hops off the bike, and humors every question they lob at her with an easy grin.

you watch it all from the back gate, staring down the driveway with a red solo cup of maker’s 46 in your hand. you and sana are familiar, but nothing more; she’s nayeon’s friend. that’s something set in stone. sana probably wouldn’t show up to something nayeon wasn’t at, though she’d definitely be invited.

on this occasion, nayeon’s parents have taken her younger sister seoyoon to paris as a high-school graduation gift, leaving her with an empty house and a perfect opportunity.

you’ve been there for an hour already, on the verge of giving up — sometimes nayeon’s parties grow dull, and that’s a point where you think of dragging jay off, fucking him to relieve the boredom. it doesn’t usually work, but it’s still better than sitting at a table half-drunk with a group of twenty-three-year-olds whose only substance is composed of the drugs they snort.

until sana, at least — because the first thing sana does upon walking up the driveway is meet your eyes, let her grin unfold. she slips her round sunglasses off her face, folds them into the collar of her shirt — oh, of course, you think, leaning against the gate with your arms loosely crossed. of course, she looks incredible.

she doesn’t even try. she’s wearing a black ac/dc back in black t-shirt, loosely tucked into her dusty-red cuffed pants, and black sneakers you vaguely place as old skool vans — jay, who came from newer money, owned a few pairs. he’s thought they were cool. but they look infinitely better on her, like she could’ve stepped out of an instagram feed for street fashion, resentfully casual at five-nine with her blonde hair tumbling down her back.

“(insert affectionate pet name),” she says.

“minatozaki,” you answer in return, your usual greeting. you’re not sure where it started, and even less sure why — but you can never quite get over the sense that you’re being teased.

“i’m glad you’re here,” sana says, which isn’t part of your usual greeting, and forces a momentary pause while you consider your angle.

“are you?” you ask eventually, but your indifference is never as effective on sana as it is on everyone else.

“yeah,” sana says, and she steps forward, plucking your cup straight from her hand and knocking back a swig; it’s so unexpected you don’t have a chance to stop it, and your instinct is more of bewilderment than it is of offense. sana wipes the corner of her mouth with the back of her wrist, and her smirk glitters. “i’ve been bored recently.”

she says bored like a threat, like a crime with a punishment. she doesn’t wait for a response, despite lingering for a moment before brushing by you into the yard with your bodies too close for the breath of a second and your eyes locking — your disinterest loses to your intrigue, and sana’s nothing but challenge, ominous enough for an edge.

it’s only after she’s steps ahead and jeongyeon’s calling her name that you catalog her boredom as the opportunity it is, as an offer. you’re not sure what exactly it entails, not sure you’re even interested; sure, sana’s attractive in every sense of the phrase, but she’s not worth it. that’s what you tell yourself as you retreat back into the yard, anyway.

so, it’s a coincidence that it’s sana you sit next to at the table where jeongyeon’s starting a game of king’s cup. and it just makes sense to pick sana as your partner when you draw an eight. and when there’s a waterfall, sana waits an extra ten seconds to stop drinking, knowing you’re right after her — but it doesn’t mean anything.

maybe you’ve been bored, too.

it’s a game with one motive: get everybody drunk.

sana draws a jack and makes a rule for no names, which fucks all of you over spectacularly — mark and jay just resort to slurring the word dude over and over to get attention, but as all of you are a group of people who don’t normally respond to being addressed as such, it only marginally works.

it ends when jihyo cracks the can — she’s forced to shotgun over the grass, everyone standing around her and cheering. nayeon, momo, and mina watch from the spa, all in various states of mild amusement.

except sana, who you catch slipping out the gate onto the long driveway and follow her.

“hey,” you say, and sana turns around in a brief surprise, joint hanging between her lips. she’s holding a lighter in her right hand, and a water bottle sits on the roof of nayeon’s aston martin.

she relaxes upon seeing you. “hey,” she says, continuing flicking the spark wheel. “you want a hit?”

“of that cheap shit?” you say. “i’ll pass.”

sana merely rolls her eyes, grinning. she exhales smoke as she speaks. “i buy from jay,” she says, and oh, of course she does — they smoke the same weed. “so, unless your problem is with my mouth” — she takes a step forward into your space, tilts her head down to emphasize your height difference — “i think you’re safe.”

there’s the challenge. “maybe it’s just you i have a problem with.”

but sana only laughs, and it’s clear she doesn’t buy it for a second — she takes another deep hit, stubs out the joint on a groove in the stone masonry of the house. you don’t live here, and so you don’t care. as long as the two of you are getting somewhere.

which you both seem to be, fast. “admit it,” sana says, bringing her arm to the wall over your head, drawing inwards. you only watch, masked and unreadable aside from the smirk playing about the corners of her mouth. “you think i’m hot.”

“i don’t think you have nearly enough money to be as confident as you are,” you say airily in response, bringing your cup to your mouth. but you’re losing, as much as you don’t want to admit it, as light and untethered as you keep your voice. you could slip out from underneath sana’s arm, walk back into the party, spend the rest of the night eating finger sandwiches and pretending to laugh at the boys’ bad jokes. you could, but you don’t, and you won’t.

sana’s smile burns sinister — something of a storm, both threatening and beautiful — and leans even closer, forcing you to lower your cup. she says, “you don’t care about money,” and your eyebrow twitches at an incline. “you have more money than you know what to do with. you think ninety percent of your exclusive, wealthy inner circle is full of shit.” she casually lifts her free hand as she speaks, runs her index finger along your jawline; you tilt your head on instinct, giving her access. “they do cocaine because they can afford it; you’d rather be reading some profound, philosophical musing on life— like the alchemist or siddhartha or journey to the east.” there’s that tiny hitch to every inhale, air leaking from her lungs. sana drifts almost closer to your ear, drops her voice even further, reckless and bold as she murmurs: “they wouldn’t know how to fuck you even if you wrote them an instruction manual.”

okay, so, it’s possible you’ve underestimated her. fire spreads up the brush of your veins, lights your cheeks. not embarrassed. hot.

“you’ve been bored,” you say slowly, and this is already the best proposition you’ve ever gotten.

“i’ve been bored,” sana agrees, your lips inches from each other and her smile slipping wide.

it isn’t something to talk about. sana kisses you, you allow it — her tongue sweeps hot and consuming in your mouth, her calloused fingers still soft against the inside curve of your neck — and then says, “two hours, y/l/n, and i’m taking you home.”

“you better not be all talk, minatozaki.”

“oh, i’m going to do a lot of talking, and you’re going to do exactly what i tell you to.”

she’s sobered by the time she sneaks out of the party with you hours later and you’re on your way, but you hadn’t committed quite like sana had. she only has one helmet, and she makes you wear it — safety first, she says dangerously, the double-entendre unmasked. you wrap your arms around sana’s waist, feeling the heat of her skin through her t-shirt, feel her muscles firm beneath your hands — and you think of ripping the helmet off, telling sana to fuck you on the bike, bending you over the seat. but sana revs the engine, kicks off the ground, and maybe you’ll save that request for a different day.

sana’s apartment is small by your standards, but then again, nearly everything is.

there are more pressing matters at hand. “safe word?” sana asks, breath hot against the inside of your ear; she skims her teeth over your earlobe, and purposefully, slowly exhales. your shiver is almost violent in its response, goosebumps erupting over your skin. kisses from your cheekbone to the corner of your mouth. kisses skin like it belongs to her.

“poverty.”

sana’s eyes flash in the darkness, amused at the response but deeming it unfitting for the course of the night; you know you’re in trouble before the two of you have even crossed that line. “feisty,” she comments, and her grip tightens just slightly. “what’s your real safe word, y/l/n?”

“target,” you say instead. the concept stands, but sana only smirks wider and allows it.

“i’m not into titles or roleplay,” sana says conversationally, twining strands of your hair through her fingers. “you can use my name, my last name, whatever — all that i care about,” she continues, and here’s the ground rules, “is that you’re good at doing what you’re told.”

it’s directly against your nature, but there’s a difference in the darkness. so, she says, “i think that’s something we can work on,” and mirrors sana’s smirk. good luck, you’re saying. give it a try.

you see the appreciation for your bite, even if you don’t get to feel it — sana tugs sharply on your hair, seems satisfied by the muted gasp, the way your chest heaves, tightens for a moment. “I’m not going to be rewarding you for your snark tonight,” she says, and with every word she locked herself away — or maybe she’s letting herself loose. “you’ll answer me only when i ask you to. you won’t touch me unless i say so, and even then, you can’t touch my hair. and you will not cum unless ordered to.” she senses the tensing of your body, the inherent argument and rebellion inside of you, and shifts her grip to your chin, catches it between her thumb and index. forces you to maintain eye contact. all you can comprehend from up-close is how gorgeous she is, her flawless skin, her full lips — “actually,” she finishes, “you’ll ask me permission to cum, and i’ll decide if i’ll allow it. understood?”

“yes,” you say, your voice a little too high and breathy for nonchalance.

“good.” sana gives you a kiss, the brush of lips, and she pulls on the fabric of your red shirt, tucked into your black high-waisted shorts. they’re tight, too — showing off the curve of your ass, barely covering the tops of your thighs — and lifts it overhead, careful of the long necklace of a cross around your neck. “think of this as a trial run.”

and then she tosses it on the floor like it’s nothing, examining you from top to bottom, lingering appreciatively on your breasts, your stomach, your legs. “take off your boots.”

there’s no way to do it gracefully — they’re kind of punk boots, silver spikes jutting out from the heel. sana keeps a hand on your waist, steadies you — and then smiles even broader when they’re off, distinctive and predatory. because now she’s really looking down.

“good,” she says again, and continues stripping you until you’re left only in her lingerie, trembling under sana’s gaze. sana’s taken your clothes, your height, your money — or your expression of it — left you bare. left you shivering. left you wet.

sana sweeps her hair over her shoulder, thumbs the trail of her collarbone, and she’s a strange mix of things both soft and cruel, of blades and beauty — she likes what she sees, but she also wants to ruin it.

that’s what you want, too. ruin.

“lie down,” sana says, nodding to the bed behind you. “and close your eyes.”

her bed’s comfortable; that’s the thought in the back of your mind with her eyelids shut, like an idle soothing of her nerves — but it’s replaced the minute sana crawls over you, whispers open — and now sana’s left in her own underwear, cleavage spilling out of her lace bra, her boy shorts hugging your ass — open — you think of opening a lot of things, her legs, her cunt, her ribcage—

sana’s far, far beyond stunning — she’s sexy, she’s filthy hot, abs defined and the do not cross lines of her biceps — hair up in a loose bun, eyelashes long and fine, lips pink and hungry — she captures your mouth, kisses like there’s a war she’s won and you’re standing in the aftermath — and then she falls to your jaw, your neck, your chest, maneuvers around the necklace. she takes time with her torture, unhooks your bra and slides it off your arms, rolls a nipple between her fingers before taking it in her mouth and sucking, lightly catching it between her teeth — you’re an inch away from writhing, your heart pulsing in the hollow of your throat, your breath turning into little flightless gasps—

sana loves this, you recognize immediately — she runs her hands all over your skin, like she can’t believe how tiny you are in comparison to the size of her own hands — she switches to your other breast, flicks the nipple with her tongue and takes it in — sana hadn’t told you not to moan and you allow yourself the sound, the hum breaking the silence — sana pauses for a split second, grins, continues to your sternum, your stomach—

she palms your hips, fingertips trailing the line of your underwear. brings your head down, dips between your thighs — exhales through the lace, inhales your cunt, smirks at the smell of sex, the proof that if one of you had ever been all talk, it’d been you—

presses a kiss directly over your clit, and immediately upon reflex, you shoot a hand to sana’s hair.

sana sees it coming, lifts her head, catches your wrist in her hand firmly — it almost hurts, but in the good way, the pressure of breaking boundaries — and now she’s a searing red, her lips in a hard line.

“what did i say?” she asks slowly, shifts up onto her knees again, still grasping your wrist. “answer me.”

“don’t touch your hair,” you breathe out, feeling wetness seeping through your underwear.

sana’s eyes glitter. “and what did you do?”

“touch your hair.” it’s almost a whimper.

she straightens fully, releases your arm, goes for your hips instead, tugs your body down to the middle of the bed. “get on your knees,” she commands, backing away. you do as you’re told, almost wince at the sound of sana’s feet hitting the floor. not out of fear. out of anticipation.

you watch the imprints of your own weight against the mattress, how your palms sink, fingers spread; the cross dangles from your neck, but the only judgment you value is coming from the girl behind you, now settling close to your ass with something denim clutched in her hand. sana tugs your underwear halfway down her thighs, humming at the slickness of the material — your clit throbs, swollen — you’re sure you’re glistening in the dim light, from sana’s perspective, cunt hot and aching—

“this is why i hate rich kids,” sana says cooly, slipping her belt from her jeans and looping it in half, leather warm in her hand. she drags the edge of it from the top of your spine and down, over every bump and ridge, cataloging the goosebumps breaking out across your skin. it comes to rest on the curve of your ass, a warning, a threat, an absolvement. “you’re never taught any fucking manners.”

you don’t speak, don’t break the rules with the punishment so threateningly present — sana hums behind you, pleased by your silence, and brings the belt down across your ass in a firm stroke, creates a crack of the air—

somehow, the shock of it is still more than you expect; you gasp, muscles tensing automatically, feel the wetness gush sudden between your legs — you hadn’t considered this as something you’d be into, but the stinging after, the total lack of control—

sana smacks your ass again, her other palm flat against your lower back, curving around your side and steadying you. and again. and again. and again. your body shakes with the force of it, the pain spreading like needles — you have the sheets tightly wound in your hands now, face burning with your blood, tears pricking the corners of your eyes — you’re not sure how long you can stand it, your skin must be a bright red, your elbows on the verge of giving out, and then—

sana stalls, leather just resting on the stinging flesh of your ass. “does it hurt?” she asks, running a flat hand over the marks that are undoubtedly there.

“yes,” you whisper, only able to discern your shaking in the stillness.

a pause — that in itself is a threat. “and do you like it?”

no, you want to say, but you open your mouth, and you suddenly can’t lie. it burns — your skin’s raw and on fire — it’s fucking humiliating, not listening to instructions and being punished for it — but sana’s hand dips between your legs, and her fingers come away so wet there’s no point to it anyway—

“yes,” you say, tensing against the inevitable final strike at the admission, and you’re not disappointed.

you gasp like you’re drowning afterward — your thighs shaking, arch of your spine sinking with every breath, collapsing in on herself. the belt is tossed somewhere on the floor, and then sana’s running a soothing hand over your ass, lowering you down to the bed, carefully helping you turn back over — but even in the display, you know it’s just a necessity of your roles and not an indication that you’re atoned. no, no — sana slips her own underwear off, bra already gone, and pushes you flat against the mattress — and that’s a different kind of pain, one not entirely pleasant, your position uncomfortable with your sensitive skin, but then—

sana crawls up your body and doesn’t stop, slots her knees on either side of your head, one hand gripping the headboard — and suddenly her cunt is right there, bare and glistening an inch from your mouth. sana scratches her fingertips against your scalp, cups the back of your head, curling into your hair and says, “lick.”

well, so, you’ve never really slept with a girl. and clearly, that’s been the problem this entire time.

but it’s a secret that probably won’t serve you too well under current circumstances, and so you pause, meet sana’s eyes and hope it’s enough to convey the need for an exception to be made.

you get one better — sana takes that single look at you, eyebrows raising slightly, and says, “you’ve never gone down on a girl before, huh?”

“no,” you say, voice hoarse and husky. “but i get the general idea.”

sana actually cracks a smile at that — genuine, outside of the intensity of the moment. “alternate between a flat tongue and sucking my clit,” she says. “i like to grind.”

“fuck,” you breathe out, and that’s almost pushing it, settling back to the mood. she’s so hot — she loosens her hold just slightly on your head, thigh muscles flexing under her own weight, and you start with a broad stroke up her slit; she’s sweet to the taste but there’s a tang to it, addicting and sharp, and you lift your head higher, wrap her lips around sana’s clit and suck, flick it with your tongue — sana tugs on your hair, and you flatten your tongue again, let sana grind into your mouth, feel her cum smearing across your chin, your jaw—

“fuck,” sana murmurs above you, staring directly down as she fucks your mouth. “you can touch me.”

you hadn’t realized you’d been white-knuckling the sheets, but the minute you’re given permission your hands fly to sana’s thighs, nails digging in and holding her there, giving your lips better leverage — you can’t get enough of the taste, the heady scent, want sana to cum in your mouth, want to swallow every drop—

“fuck,” sana murmurs again, throwing her head back, body trembling. “y/n—”

her stomach muscles tighten, jaw falling open, fist tightening in your hair — she releases her breath in a series of choked moans, and you only pull her closer, tongue lapping at her cunt and refusing to release — sana indulges you a few seconds longer, like she admires the tenacity, the desire, and then pulls away, leaves your jaw a mess, lips glistening.

and then she grins, lifts a finger under your chin and tilts it. “not bad,” she says. “for your first time.”

so let me have a second, you almost say, go as far as having your mouth open — but then you shift, and your ass reminds you exactly why you shouldn’t. you shut it. sana grins even further, eyes narrowing slightly. proud.

“my turn,” she says, and nudges your knees apart, finds the sheet soaked underneath you and your thighs slick. she keeps her gaze darkly amused, smile careless. you can almost feel yourself being compared, being contemplated, being judged — and sana says, “spread your cunt for me.”

maybe sana’s testing your limits, how many orders you’ll take and how long you’ll take them — if you get worse with time or better, if you crack under the pressure — but you’re too far past self-image and reflection to care. you dip your fingers down, don’t even think of touching your own clit or fucking yourself — you do exactly what sana asks and wait, regardless of how exposed you feel, how open and vulnerable and nervous.

“good,” sana says, and settles onto her stomach, arms slipping underneath your thighs. “hands under your pillow. if you touch without permission, i swear i’ll tie your wrists behind your back and edge you for the next two hours.”

you nearly sob from the idea alone — you’ve been so wet for so long, clit throbbing, cunt aching — wrapping your fists tight around the pillowcase, ribs taut through your skin, chest heaving — and sana finally lowers her mouth to your cunt.

it’s the most instantaneous relief you’ve ever felt — you arch, try to press yourself closer, hiss at the pressure on your raw skin — but sana’s tongue is there to circle her clit, to flick it, to stroke broadly, lightly suck your clit into her mouth and scrape it with her teeth. you’ve been eaten out before, but never by somebody who really knew what they were doing, and it’s an entirely different kind of euphoria.

you barely last, but you’re miraculously supposed to — “can i cum?” you exhale, and sana only laughs against your cunt.

“yes,” she says, “but i’m not going to stop.”

you shatter, that’s the equivalency, that’s the intensity of it — and sana doesn’t stop, just pushes her tongue deeper, just sucks harder, just swallows what she can taste. it’s close to too much, straddling that line — she’s holding your thighs down after twenty minutes to stop you from closing them, forcing you to multiple orgasms you don’t think you’ll be able to have, so strong you’re still nearly sobbing from the pleasure of it — and sana finally acquiesces, slows her tongue, loosens her grip. sits up, sees you writhing on the sheets, panting and frustrated, and decides you’ve had enough.

“does it hurt?” sana asks gently, the tone instantly recognizable of one signaling an end rather than a continuation. you take a moment until you nod, bottom lip tight between your teeth. sana wraps a hand around your hip bone, presses flush to your back, your ass against her hips — and you hiss, the burn amplified against sana’s warm skin. but you don’t fight it. you’ve learned your lessons.

sana drops her lips to your ear, whispers, “shh,” and dips a hand casually between your legs, nudging your thighs open; you’re somewhat resistant until you realize sana’s intention, and then your knee slowly crooks up, spreading you open.

you’re still unbelievably wet, and your entire body trembles as sana’s fingers drift over your clit, light in their pressure, careful not to overstimulate. your chest flutters unevenly with every breath and the line of your spine sinks deeper and deeper into the curve of sana’s body, almost cradled by the time sana slips two fingers into your cunt.

you keep one hand tight around the pillowcase, the other in a fist and closed over your chest. you remember sana’s no-touching rule now, want to spare yourself any further punishment; it fills sana with a vicious type of satisfaction. one night. she almost laughs — you’d been so ready to obey from the moment you’d been dragged back to sana’s apartment, there’s no way you haven’t spent copious amounts of time being disappointed by boys with no imagination.

you’re cumming all over her hand, even without actually crossing that edge yet; your bottom lip is red and swollen, cheeks flushed. you’re still somewhat on your side, head resting on sana’s upper left arm, quiet sounds starting to build in your throat — sana curls her hand, grasps your chin somewhat roughly, fingers pressing to your lips.

“suck,” she says cooly, and you nearly choke on your moan, wrapping your mouth around sana’s fingers, tongue hot and wet. she’s still fucking you with her other hand, lazy and dismissive.

and then she pulls out, cum stringing from your cunt to her fingers, and finds your clit again, rubbing small circles until she catalogs your sensitive spots — you like long, quick strokes, from sana’s fingers to her palm, leaving you room to grind. it’s dirty, messy, and exactly what sana expects from you.

“sana,” you try to say around sana’s fingers. “can— can i—”

they’re muffled and almost impossible to distinguish, but sana understands regardless, smiles. “good girl,” she says. “cum for me.”

when you cum, it’s almost violent in its silence — your whole body tightens, rolling low in your stomach, and sana slips three fingers straight back into your cunt to feel it, the way you clench and throb and tremble — you whine around the fingers in your mouth, and sana relents there, drags them from your jaw to cup your breast, thumbing a nipple. but your breath stays trapped in your lungs for what seems like an impossibly long time, releasing in short, imperfect patterns.

it takes you awhile to come down — you drift further into bonelessness against sana’s body, and then you seem to enjoy being held — not quite comforted but appreciated. it’s so fitting of your personality that it only reads as endearing, rather than superficial and pretentious.

“feel better?” sana murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair. it’s time for her to play her parts, the soft ones — it isn’t all about the aggression, the orders. you did a good job, and you’re allowed to be taken care of for it.

“mmm.” you can’t seem to manage words in response, too content and full. you’re falling asleep, but you can’t quite give in without an invitation — it’s obvious from the way you fight against it, keep lightly adjusting your hands, licking your lips.

“if you want to,” sana starts slowly, rubbing a palm gently across your side — the red lines from sana’s short nails still stand out against your skin from when she’d raked them down to hold your thighs — “you can stay here tonight.”

you open one eye, eyebrow sinking over it as you turn your head slightly. “here?” you ask, and it doesn’t come out with the tone sana expects it to — it isn’t here? this shithole? — it’s here as in your bed, here as in with you.

“yeah,” sana says. “here.”

you adjust slightly, more onto your back without the discomfort, now meeting sana’s gaze with both eyes. the look you’re wearing remains unreadable, exploratory. there’s something internal, a war, a warning.

and then you say, “can i borrow a t-shirt? and shorts?”

“depends,” sana says, ignoring her heartbeat. she’s lucky you’re here at all, but she won’t admit that until much, much later. “Are you going to complain about it if I spent less than a hundred dollars on it?”

you harrumph, rolling your eyes. “no. but i’d prefer pure cotton, otherwise i might break out in hives.”

your gazes lock once the rotation ends. sana stares, hard. you stare back harder.

“you’re joking, right?” sana finally asks, breaking the stalemate. she’s not sure what she’ll do if you say no — either die laughing or shove your underwear in your mouth, teach you another lesson.

but your lips quirk, and sana’s chest constricts a little less. “yes,” you say, amused. “believe it or not, i do have a sense of humor.”

“oh, i believe that,” sana says and shifts off the bed. “the entire evening before we got here was a joke.” she opens her middle drawer where she keeps her sleep shirts, tosses one randomly onto the bed behind her.

“ha-ha.”

even your sarcastic laughter is endearing — sana’s got to shake herself from that road before it leads somewhere dangerous. she pulls a black tank overhead, tugs her hair loose, and turns to find you gazing strangely at the shirt.

“what?” sana asks, frowning at you. everything about the scene in front of her is unexplored territory, no automatic intuition. “it’s clean.”

“it’s... cool,” you say slowly, as though you’re confused by your own opinion. you slip your arms through the sleeves, poke your head through the collar and straighten it out, looking down. “i like it.”

it’s just a white t-shirt with a print of a skull on it, flowers blooming from its sockets. but it’s probably wildly different from anything you ever wear, and that’s definitely the only reason sana says it. “you can keep it, if you want.”

“i couldn’t,” you say primly, but the devil blinks out of your eyes. “you own so little as it is.”

sana throws her head back and laughs, delighted by your bite. “you’re lucky the moment’s over,” she says, grinning, “or you’d be back on your knees.”

sana puts on friends in the background before the two of you sleep, gives you lotion and a cold-water bottle which you wrap your mouth around greedily — sana follows the arch of your throat, the movement of every swallow, thinks about wrapping her fingers around it — and you smirk as you lower the bottle, intuitive enough to connect those dots.

“maybe next time,” you say pointedly, and you don’t even stumble over your own admission. from once to a future in so short a period of time — sana wants to say some snarky, cocky remark: “one good bare-minimum fuck and you’re mine” or “guess money couldn’t buy you a vibrator that gives you orders”.

next time. that’s a fantasy sana lets wrap her up for a little too long to count as a casual silence.

“your ego is suffocating,” you say after a moment, your gaze fixated on the television, sinking into the pillows.

“coming from you, princess, i’ll take that as a compliment.”

you shoot sana a dirty look at the pet name, but it doesn’t stop you from falling asleep with your back pressed into sana’s chest, and it certainly doesn’t stop you from waking up with your head in the crook of sana’s neck.

and it definitely doesn’t stop her from keeping sana’s shirt.

you make it exactly thirty-four hours before you succumb to the new number in your phone.

“so, you want this to be a regular thing, huh?” sana asks, frustratingly casual as she leans against the booth of the bar, feet kicked out underneath the table and crossed at the ankles.

“i didn’t say that.”

“you didn’t have to.” she allows her stare to drop openly, trailing across the skin revealed by the low collar of your dress. it’s a very passively interesting observation, designed for power. like she’s allowed to look at you however she wants, whenever she wants to. “you invited me out for drinks. i’m not stupid.”

“fine,” you concede, because you’re not about to look like a fool for pride. that’s nayeon’s thing. “you were right. what you said to me at the party, before you even took me home. they don’t know.”

“but i do.” it isn’t a question.

your lip curls. “obviously.”

sana considers you, head tilted at an angle. “was any part of the other night too much for you?”

“no.” that’s a simple one to answer, and it’s make-or-break; you’re aware sana had gone easy on you. you shrug a shoulder. “i didn’t come close to my safe word, if that’s what you’re asking.”

oh, that’s the wrong thing to reveal — or very right, depending on how she’s looking at it; sana’s eyebrows are high, even though her surprise appears mild. something about the admission gets her mind racing, a mental highway on a road trip. everything spread out open and wide before her.

“are you seeing anyone else?” sana presses on, like a checklist she’s going through. “you fuck around with jay occasionally, right?”

“sometimes,” you say. “but he’s…” you stop, frowning. sana laughs at the expression alone.

“i get it,” she says, smirk nearly knocking itself out in egotism. “he’s no me.”

“arrogance doesn’t look good on you.”

“sweetheart,” sana says, reaches out and skims a finger across your wrist, “i think we both know that’s not true.”

there’s a party. there’s a lot of parties.

only now the two of you end in sana’s bed, your wrists tied behind your back and your tongue lapping desperately at sana’s cunt — you on your knees, sana pumping into you with a decently-sized-strap-on and hitting every perfect angle the boys can’t manage with their real dicks — sana, forcing you to bed until your throat is raw, holding you at an edge for over an hour — sana, using scissoring as a punishment, your cunt and inside thigh as something to grind and cum on, something to fuck and leave the next day. and it’s incredible.

you’re still punished fairly often — you can never seem to keep your sharp tongue tucked away, dropping remarks about how she’s fucking below your class, how letting sana touch you at all is an act of charity — and sana’s sinister smile stretches every time, fingers curling around your neck, flipping you onto your stomach, fisting your hair and tugging your head back as she sinks a dildo into you.

you’ve never felt so good in your life, never been so satisfied. you stay the night, and sometimes the two of you argue playfully and laugh until the sun starts to rise, even without sex. jay approaches you a few times with propositions and you pull out an endless arsenal of excuses — you use “i’m on my period” two weeks in a row, twelve days apart, and jay just whistles and nods seriously, like he understands.

you meet sana’s eyes across the yard, any yard. smile with a corner of your mouth. those are nights when sana lets things slip — lets you get away with a smart remark, a touch, an orgasm. those are the nights you look in the mirror and finally see someone you like.

nayeon interrupts you at the pool; you’re stretched out in a lawn chair in your bikini, sunglasses on and phone on silent. it’s one of the few activities where you can get away with stagnancy; it’s not that you’re lying down because the rest of your body’s too deliciously sore to do anything else, it’s that you’re tanning.

“y/n,” nayeon greets politely, dropping her purse near the chair next to you. “where did you disappear to last night?”

you think about keeping it a secret, but secrets only count as ammunition to the wealthy. moneys nothing — you’ve got tons of it. secrets can be used against you. so, you say, blithe and candid, “i’ve been fucking sana.”

you expect stunned silence, an open mouth, a wide-eyed disbelief. you expect sputtering and outrage. you expect a storm, expect it to get up and thunder straight out of the garden. what you don’t expect is nayeon to sigh like you’ve just told her something predictable and disappointing.

“of course, you have,” nayeon says, pinching the bridge of her nose with her eyes shut, as if the revelation had struck her with an instant headache. “i knew inviting sana a few weeks ago had been a bad idea. you’re exactly her type, and she said she’d been bored recently...”

“her type?” you repeat, surprised to find yourself jealous of the prospect of more, others. you’ve never been fucked like that — sana obviously knew what she was doing, but still, you like believing in a singularity between the two of you. like believing sana’s never enjoyed anyone else the way she indulges in you, in your fingers, in your mouth, in your cunt.

“beautiful, arrogant, dismissive, disinterested,” nayeon ticks off on her fingers, and then smiles brutally. “acts like nothing touches her but loves to beg to be touched.”

so, you have two options: the first, of course, is to listen to your impulses, to follow exactly what’s expected of you — curl a lip distastefully, turn up your nose, tell nayeon to get the hell out of your yard and go fuck her not-boyfriend in the missionary position for the third time this week. but you’ve realized you don’t want to do what’s expected of you unless you’re getting rewarded for it.

you roll your head back to center, too content for fake-spiteful arguments. “and how many orgasms have you faked this month, nayeon?”

“there’s no need to be so crass,” nayeon responds, falling for the bait. sometimes you’re not sure why the two of you tell each other anything at all, but then remember both of you are probably best friends or something. “it’s not as if i’m wrong.”

“no, just boring,” you say, propping up a knee. you’re playing your part perfectly, allowing your grin to develop that edge, shift to a smirk. “i think being her type is working out well for me so far.”

“for now,” nayeon says, narrowing her eyes to the hickey poking out of your bikini top. “but you’re selfish. we both know you don’t know how to share, y/n — and you aren’t going to own her, no matter how badly you’ll end up wanting to.”

that’s a hit, dead center, and it stings like one. finally, nayeon breaks through, finds your hot temper and irritation underneath the surface. “what’s that supposed to mean?” you snap, and your throat hardens uncomfortably at the reminder of sana’s t-shirt, carefully folded in a hidden corner of her dresser.

“i’ve known sana for years,” nayeon says, and now it’s about the shift of power — of knowing. “you think you’re the first person i’ve seen her ruin? she’s the best sex everyone who sleeps with her ever has. and none of them liked giving her up, either.”

“it’s just sex, nayeon, not some soulmate-affirming act that you clearly imagine it to be,” you respond, sitting up. suddenly the heat’s getting to you, your skin too warm and sticky. “she’s fucking me, and sometimes,” you emphasize deliberately for the lead-in, “i just want to fucking cum.”

you get up to leave, but you can’t be done, not when you haven’t ruined nayeon’s morning, not when you haven’t said anything that won’t take an expensive brunch to recover from. plus, you’ve left yourself the perfect doorway into the combination of intimate knowledge and brutality, and you’ll never waste that regardless of what it ruins.

“by the way,” you say, slipping your glasses up your forehead for the dramatic effect of direct eye contact, “the reason you don’t cum when mark fucks you is because you’re a lesbian. don’t take your sexual frustration out on me just because i know what i like, even if that is being tied up and choked.”

you almost consider feeling bad as you walk away, but your hips ache deliciously with every step and your skin burns, and you entirely forget to feel anything else.

the first time it happens, it’s an accident.

you’re shopping online. it’s not unusual in itself. but you start noticing clothes you wouldn’t have noticed before, start thinking about how good they’d look on someone else. someone who spends most nights fucking you absolutely senseless, and maybe deserves a thank-you once in a while.

it’s a black leather bomber jacket from golden goose with a fur collar and a brown-lined pocket on the left side, giving it casual, asymmetrical appeal — and then you’re thinking about sana, thinking about her motorcycle, thinking about how hot she’d be wearing it. and then it’s in your cart, and you’re checking out, and you don’t even blink at the total of twenty-five hundred dollars. you even pay for expedited shipping.

your parents are hosting an event, and because you’re bored of getting what you want when you want it, you invite sana.

no underwear, sana texts. understood?

yes.

you follow through — hope sana doesn’t force you to drip down yourself all night, hops you get the smallest semblance of relief — but the minute sana arrives, you throw that wish straight out the window. kick it out of the neighborhood. fling it straight into space.

sana’s dress isn’t designer, but it might as well be from how incredible she looks in it.

she’s left her long hair wild and loose, but the kind of wild that jumps from models and fashion campaigns — natural, a pseudo-effortlessness. her eyeliner’s dark, gold eyeshadow fading into a smokey eye, and her lips are a stunning burgundy that matches the color of her dress, which is a deep v-neck, short-sleeved maxi dress, though the dress itself stops at mid-thigh and only continues past in a sheer lace with a leaf-like pattern, slit up the side. there’s a thin gold lining around the waist, almost like a belt, and her heels are a beige with gold straps, putting her close to six feet.

the longer lace of the dress billows behind her as she walks. several people are staring. you’re the only one of them that matters. or, at least, you’d better be.

“(insert affectionate pet name),” sana greets, smirk destructively wicked. “thanks for the invite. shall we shake hands? you can test the firmness of my grip.”

you laugh unexpectedly; you’re very familiar with the strength of sana’s grip already, pinning your wrists to the mattress. “no, thanks,” you say, and you need to touch sana right now or you’ll die. “a hug is customary.”

“oh, is it.”

“yes.”

“well then,” sana says, and wraps her arms around you, lips just above your ear. she fingers the material of your gold dress — apparently, you’re having a similar effect on her. “you look beautiful, baby. there’s a reason i’ve always called you (insert affectionate pet name).”

it’s the first time she uses a pet name that isn’t princess or a sarcastic sweetheart — it’s uttered too affectionately, cradled in her mouth. and now you know why, knows why you’d always felt teased, out of the loop, on the wrong side of the joke — because sana had been calling you beautiful all along.

your heart thunders around your chest, the storm stronger in your body than in the sky.

“come with me,” you say, and take sana’s hand.

sana only stares at it. and stares, and stares, and stares.

“i can return it if you don’t like it,” you finally say, voice more uncertain than you’re used to. it’s hard to read sana; it always is. she’s just sitting on the corner of your bed, the leather jacket held delicately in your hands.

sana’s gaze darts to you, flicks back, can’t decide where to land. “you bought this for me?”

“yes,” you say dryly. “i’ve heard that its customary for people to sometimes give gifts to other people, as a token of appreciation.”

that’s a smart remark that gets sana to shut her mouth, fall into her defaults. she levels you with a look. “y/n,” she says flatly. “how much did you spend on this?”

“like nothing.”

at that, sana sighs heavily, still stroking her hands over the leather. “so, at least a few grand.”

“almost nothing. like i said.”

there’s an eyeroll torn between exasperation and affection, and you don’t think sana even knows which emotion won. “you can’t buy yourself out of paying for shit like that later, so watch it.”

“that’s hardly fair,” you whine, aiming for endearing over irritating. “we haven’t started officially. this doesn’t count. i’m giving you a gift.”

sana doesn’t hide her smile, but she doesn’t seem like she’s openly displaying it, either. “come here,” she says, extending a hand, and you take it. “are you wearing underwear?”

“no,” you say.

“good.” she doesn’t take advantage of that yet; only tugs you close and kisses you. “thank you.”

it feels right.

she eats you out in the bathroom during a dinner toast — you’d been so wet all night you’d been afraid of ruining your dress, left a damp spot on the fabric, but after this it’s a likely possibility — and leaves lipstick kisses peppered over the insides of her thighs. she makes you beg her to cum, even though the chance of someone overhearing is high, and you can’t stop yourself even if you want to, sana’s name falling breathily from your mouth in between “please”, “fuck”, and “god”.

“slut,” sana murmurs darkly after, kissing you until you taste yourself on sana’s tongue.

later on, your parents tell you they think sana’s a wonderful girl with her head on straight, and it’s nice of you to have friends of different backgrounds.

you’re absolutely right, you agree. i needed to expand my horizons.

you start to buy sana stuff. clothes, shoes, parts for her motorcycles. “it made me think of you”, you’ll say, and sana doesn’t protest, just regards you with a fond sort of disapproval, like she knows exactly what the truth of it is even if you don’t know yourself.

you and nayeon finally get around to your expensive apology brunch, a full two months after your original disagreement. the two of you had seen each other several times since then, but it’s never officially resolved until brunch.

“still seeing her?” nayeon asks, far more casual now that time has passed.

“she’s interesting,” is all you say, fronting the same mild disinterest you’re so accustomed to wearing. you run your fingers through your bangs, still staring at your menu like it’s the most compelling thing in the room.

“she fucks you half to death,” nayeon replies flatly, not even bothering for eye contact; such a bold-faced understatement is hardly worthy of it. “you can barely sit, y/n.”

the corner of your mouth twitches. “and what would you know about that?”

nayeon’s lips curl into a half-smirk, amused by the ease of the admission. at least she’s a girl who picks her battles. “admittedly, not a lot,” she allows. “but i am observant.”

christ, you think; rich people are all so fucking dramatic. maybe sana’s right about them. “and what have you observed?”

“well,” nayeon says, “you like her,” and somehow that isn’t at all what you expect her to say.

you drop your menu against the table, blinking. “excuse me?”

nayeon only tuts under her breath, too smart to be fooled by indignant denial. “please, y/n. it’s obvious. you’re either with her or you’re thinking about her, and that’s it.”

she’s proud of herself, you realize. proud she’s pinned something down that definitely isn’t there, proud she’s exposed you for settling low. it has that edge, the comment, not like a casual crush but a trap, a downfall. as if she’s saying, “of course that’s your type.”

you want to slap her for it.

“as i just said,” you state calmly, saving face, “she’s interesting. she isn’t like us. you’re her friend, and i know you admire her for that exact reason.”

“i do,” nayeon agrees, setting her menu down candidly. “but i don’t think about having sex with her, and i definitely don’t spend thousands of dollars buying her clothes, or parts for her motorcycles, or whatever else her heart desires.”

well, fuck.

nayeon and sana are friends. that’d been the original context of everything.

“look,” nayeon says, sensing your obvious panic. “i’m sorry for what i said. i think you’re good for her.” she pauses, presses her lips together. “actually, i think you’re good for each other.”

it’s a strange change of heart. “why?”

“she’s... calmer,” nayeon says slowly, clearly figuring out her words as she speaks them. “stable, i suppose. i always used to feel as if — as if she were searching for something and never finding it. she was so restless. some days, i swore she was on the verge of asking me to buy her a plane ticket to anywhere that wasn’t here and run away.”

“and now?” you ask, just to have the proof yourself.

“now,” nayeon says, “i think she’d rather be with you.”

(“by the way,” nayeon tells you as the two of you are walking to your cars, “you were right. i’m definitely a lesbian.”

“what made you realize?”

“well, i came when momo fucked me.”

“that’ll do it.”)

it’s a theory to test. a hypothesis.

you spend the day with sana in her workshop, asking her questions about her builds, her modifications, how each part fits into the whole. sana dutifully answers every single one, even lets her help where it’s applicable, tightening bolts and passing tools.

you meet mina there, too — mina’s younger sister — who only takes a single glance at you and says unprompted, “oh, y/n!”

“yes?” you respond, in obvious confusion.

“sana talks about you,” mina provides context. “she talks about you constantly.”

“i will crack this wrench on your skull,” sana says cheerfully. “permanent brain damage.”

“i’m just saying—”

“get out.”

she shakes her head after, tosses you a sly look, and the lack of embarrassment is startling, as if she thinks it’s mutual between them. your heart rattles in your chest, something under lock and key.

you’d loved it. you’d loved hearing proof of the possibility of being more, just as you’d loved hearing it from nayeon a couple days previously.

it isn’t quite terrifying, but it’s enough for a bad decision.

it’s another friday night, and another boring event.

you don’t invite sana. there’s a reason for that.

your proposal is anything but subtle; you eye jay up and down, his disheveled blond hair and obvious muscle, and decide he’ll do. you’ll prove your points. you take a sip of your champagne and say, “we should have sex.”

he blinks, lips curling surreptitiously. “uh,” he says, “what?”

“do you want to, or not?”

“i mean, yeah,” he says, and opens and closes his mouth without words, fumbling over himself. “i just— i wasn’t expecting you to ask. it’s been a while—”

“whatever.” you down the rest of your glass, set it on the tray of a passing server. you nod your head to the house behind you. “let’s go.”

“now?”

“now,” you say, wondering why it’s so hard for him to comprehend, or if he’s always been this stupid.

he has enough sense to follow you into the house, up the stairs, shut the door behind them — you run your hands through his hair with purpose, curl your fingers and tug; if it were sana, you’d already be spun around and bent over, underwear bunched around your knees. but he doesn’t seem to notice or care, letting you take whatever control you want, passive and pliant beneath your hands. you kiss him, and all you think about is how his mouth is too rough, how his tongue moves sloppily in your mouth. you hadn’t realized how messy boys were, how little finesse mattered to them.

you strip your own shirt overhead, and his follows — you go to the button of his jeans, work the zipper down, feel him hard through his boxers; he’s trying to do the same thing to you, but he’s clearly not sure how to match your pace, or why it’s being set in the first place. it’s not difficult for him to get hard. all you had to do was take your shirt off.

he kicks off his jeans, getting into the desperation of it even if he doesn’t know where it’s coming from - slips his boxers down, rolls a condom on - you tug your own underwear down your legs. he kneels in front of you, rough fingers rubbing your cunt — you get impatient, gesture him over you, to get it over with—

“i’m trying,” he says, bewildered by your demeanor, “but, y/n— you aren’t wet enough. i— i can’t.”

you touch yourself. he’s right. it’s like you’re the opposite of horny — like you’re mummified or something. that’s how dry you are. for a moment he just waits — he’d never force himself inside of you like this, you hate lube, and either way—

“forget it.” you shove him off of her, sit up, grab your underwear off the floor and get dressed with an increasing urgency, a frustration. “whatever. i’m leaving.”

“leaving?” he repeats, blinking owlishly. “y/n, you like, live here.”

“i don’t care.”

he pauses, examining you. he’s not the most sensitive of guys, but he isn’t really an asshole, either. he knows something’s off. “are you okay?”

unfortunately, you’re not really in the mood to reward basic decency from a man. “get off my bed,” is all you say in response, and he scrambles up as the door shuts behind you.

sana answers on the third ring. “hey, babe.”

it’s not like it’s an unusual greeting, but with the week you’ve had — nayeon’s comment, mina’s slip, your failed encounter with jay — your heart is beating against your skull, and it’s the first thing you’ve felt in days. “hey. can you pick me up?”

there’s a background clatter — something heavy and metallic; she’s probably working on one of her own projects, you realize with a pang of guilt, but sana beats you to the punch before you can take it back. “yeah,” she says, more alert. “are you okay?”

“i just want to see you.” it’s the best you can do.

a subtle pause of contemplation. “okay,” sana says, softening so noticeably that you almost cry. “i’ll meet you at the end of the block.”

sana passes the fancy, flashy cars parked outside of her house; she pulls to stop between an audi and a tesla, where you’re standing with your arms crossed over your body, waiting. she plants her feet solidly against the pavement, lifts her helmet off, and her muted concern is instantly visible; she eyes you up and down, as if checking you for signs of injury. it’s real emotion, genuine care, and it’s almost too much.

she’s wearing the leather jacket you had bought her, that’s the first thing you comprehend. despite her many protests, despite her many complaints — she’s settled snugly into it like a first skin, molded perfectly to every curve. your mouth feels thick and heavy with paint, your head full of roses.

“what the hell happened to you?” sana asks bluntly, but you only grab the second helmet and slip onto the bike behind her without giving her an answer. it’s infinitely easier than straddling jay has ever been, and you’re eased just by the closeness, the smell of the leather and jasmine of sana’s hair.

“i don’t want to be here,” is all you say in response, wrapping your arms around sana’s waist.

“okay,” sana says, and it’s enough.

sana gets you inside the apartment, tosses her keys on the entryway table, and leads you to where she’s most comfortable. the bed’s there, unmade and inviting, but you recognize the sheets as fresh. you think that says something. that she knows.

“what d’you want, baby?” sana murmurs, captures your mouth in a kiss. she curls her fingers through your hair, brushing it away from your cheek and behind your ear, meets your stare too directly and openly when she pulls away. not a challenge, but a question. “because i can fuck you, if that’s what you’re here for. i can punish you like you’ve done something bad. did you do something bad, y/n?”

“no,” you say, but you’re shuddering, drawing closer. you think of jay, think of his mouth on yours, think of the harsh angles of his muscles and how wrong he felt on top of you. your body rolls hot, every inch aflame. you can’t lie to sana. “i don’t know. yes.”

but that’s the thing about sana — “no”, “maybe”, “yes” isn’t an answer, only a guidance, and she seems to know what you want better than you know it yourself.

“what’d you do, baby?” she asks softly, slips her hand down the front of your jeans, lightly touches you over your underwear, and your breath hitches.

“i tried to— tried to fuck jay,” you whisper, and — not unprecedented in its entirety, just this scenario — wrap your arms around sana’s neck, rest your foreheads together. “but i— he— it just... didn’t work. it— i couldn’t.”

sana’s touch slows, becomes a feather-brush against the fabric over your clit. she has her eyes open, brow slightly furrowed, and then she leans in, catches your lips with her own — kisses you, tender and concerned. she’s not you, doesn’t have a possessive streak, doesn’t run at the first spark of jealousy.

“you couldn’t?” she repeats, removes her hand, cups your jaw instead.

“i don’t want him,” you confess honestly, shocked to find yourself trembling in sana’s arms. “it’s like— like i don’t want anyone anymore. anyone but you. and i— i knew this was just sex, i know you’re not— not mine, but i—”

sana brings a finger to your lips, silences you gently; you can’t tell if it’s a game or if it’s you both, can’t tell if it’s lust or if it’s love, but then sana drops her arm, murmurs, “i can be yours.” her eyes dart to your mouth and back. “but that makes you mine, too.”

her tongue slides briefly over her bottom lip, nerves of admission. your heart lifts out of fog, find your blood. you whisper, “okay.”

sana starts to unbutton your white blouse, every movement careful and precise. it’s not that it’s slower than you’re used to, but it’s softer; she slips her hands underneath the fabric, drags it over your shoulders and off. your black jeans follow the same arc, boots kicked off, and sana slides her fingers down the front of your underwear.

“sorry,” you unstick your voice from your throat, still deep in your own head and simultaneously so far out of it. “i might not be— i want it, even if I’m not—”

half of sana’s mouth slips up at a corner, understanding the collision of your thoughts. “baby,” she whispers against your lips, “you’re dripping.”

and as if to prove her point, the fingers ghosting over her clit dip lower, slip straight into you, and fuck, sana isn’t wrong, isn’t exaggerating — you’re so wet you can hear sana fucking her, slow and passive and deliberate, a gentleness present that you’ve never felt previously. and then sana removes her hand, sucks her own fingers into her mouth, eyelashes fluttering — her lips are pink and shiny when she removes them; you watch her cheeks hollow, want to die on the sharp curve of her cheekbones — pushes you lightly back against the mattress, tugs your underwear off, shifts down between your legs, spreads your thighs apart.

she wipes her fingers against her bedspread, and then she pulls at the hair tie around her wrist, loops her hair into a loose bun before settling on her stomach. you’re already trembling — it’s like the first time all over again, like you’re waiting on your knees for sana to bring a belt to your ass, only you’re bare on your back with sana’s mouth hovering over your cunt and a soft, meticulous tongue.

sana looks up at you, meets your eyes, too tender to pretend to be anything else. “you can touch my hair,” she murmurs, and you almost cum from that allowance alone.

she licks the length of your cunt, tongue pressing briefly inside of you before she parts her lips over your clit, almost like she’s kissing it. sana’s never eaten you out like this before — there’s no power dynamic at play, no edging, no game — she wants you to feel good, wants you to cum into her mouth and all over her bed.

she builds into it attentively, sucks on your clit and scrapes it gently with her teeth, and then settles back into long, broad strokes. her arms are situated around your thighs, holding her open, accessible, and you can’t stop watching her — she keeps her eyelids shut, reveling in the taste, like she’d swallow all of you if she could. it’s so erotic, so sensual in its simplicity, that after you release a tiny moan in your throat, your hands finally — finally — find the top of her head, curling into her hair.

sana only smiles, murmurs hot against your cunt, “good girl.”

i want to touch you, you say after breaking every rule. but tonight’s different, and even sana can tell. please, you say, and sana allows it.

you end up grinding against sana’s thigh, three fingers buried inside of her, sana canting her hips with every stroke, chasing the pressure of your palm against her clit. sana clenches down on your fingers so hard it almost hurts until you finally slide them out, soaking and circling sana’s clit instead, your own cum smearing up sana’s thigh.

sana moans your name as she cums, and in your daze you only experience the sound as an alarm, a trigger — you hit the edge, pressing yourself even harder into sana’s thigh, your own orgasm hitting suddenly. and then pause, just as sana does.

“did you just cum?” sana asks delicately, but she leaves room for a hint of warning in case you’re in the mood for that particular game.

you are. you are. you are. “yes,” you whisper, face still content in the crook of sana’s neck. “punish me.”

there’s no calling what it’ll be — it changes based on sana’s whims, the situation, what the two of you have done leading up to the offense. tonight, you’re on your knees with you face pressed flat into the sheets, hands bound behind your back and resting against your lower spine, and sana’s pounding into her with a strap-on — it’s one the two of you had bought for the aesthetic, less access to sana herself but comfortable, similarly cut to boy shorts, silky and hot — your hair’s wrapped in sana’s hand, your head jerking with every thrust — she purposely avoids your g-spot until she hears your moans shifting from breathy to agitated, the pleasure too good without being enough, and then she spreads your knees even further, angles your hips—

“cum,” sana orders, fingertips digging sharply into your hips.

blood pounds in your ears, in your neck, in your clit — you cum so powerfully she almost forces sana out a little, but sana doesn’t let up, keeps her pace and fucks you just as hard through your orgasm. doesn’t stop. doesn’t stop through the second, or the third, and your cunt is so raw you can’t believe you’ll ever cum again.

you do, but you don’t remember it.

you wake up hours later, groggily blinking your eyes open, and shift a fraction of an inch before realizing the dildo’s still inside of you, and sana’s asleep, buried in you to the hilt.

you cum almost immediately at the realization alone, clit throbbing, chest expanding and fracturing — you gasp; sana’s fingers tighten around your wrist, smile spreading against the back of your neck — and she pumps her hips slowly as you convulse.

“yeah,” she says after, finally slipping out, and the emptiness leaves you panting and ruined. “that’s what i was waiting for.”

you can’t really move in the morning; sana holds you up in the shower as she massages shampoo into your hair, legs trembling under her weight.

“i think we’ll take it easy for a few days,” sana says, clearly delighted with her work.

“fuck you.”

“we can talk about that as an alternative.”

you wind up curled on sana’s couch afterward, mug of tea in your hand with the tv open to netflix. sana’s shuffling around in the kitchen, more inclined to coffee. you hear the drip, drip into the pot, and then sana appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

so, you ask her, “can i stay here for the weekend?”

sana observes you for a moment; there’s no risk of her saying no, but there’s something else. “sure,” she says, and the other shoe drops. “if you tell me what you’re really doing here.”

it’s an out, it’s a plea, it’s a bargain — it’s not strange of her to ask. you’ve got an entire mansion to share with only two other people, and instead of losing yourself in its rooms, lounging by its pool, you’re hiding out in sana’s tiny apartment.

i love you, that’s what you should say in response. i love you, that’s what sana had meant when she asked. it’s not quite the time.

instead, you look away — focus on the coffee ring staining the wooden table, something familiar and worn and signaling presence, life. it’d drive your mother crazy. you say, “i’m just so fucking bored of it all.” it isn’t the whole truth, but it isn’t a lie, either. “i don’t want to sit there quietly and be polite and listen to people who think they’re important try to convince other people of their importance. i don’t want to drink red wine and talk about wall street and act like i’m above it all. i’m not. i’m not.” you say the last note with a wavering finality, daring to meet sana’s eyes.

you find her sympathetic, softer. sana says gently, “are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”

the sting of tears comes as a surprise; it’s not a reaction you predict from yourself at the question. but it’s always something deeper. you say, “i wasn’t the nicest to you.”

“we were having fun,” sana shrugs off, unaffected. “i wasn’t the nicest to you, either.”

“yeah, but i liked it.”

“so, did i.” she gets a smile out of you at that. “look — being a pretentious, wealthy asshole is kind of in your blood, y/n. i don’t think we’re ever going to work the literary snobbish side out of you, or how you frown every time you see pleather.” you grimace at the word itself, entirely proving sana’s point, and sana fights back a laugh. “but i know what else is there, too. i know everything beyond that. i know that you secretly love extra-salty mcdonald’s french fries, and you wear my ten-dollar t-shirt to sleep almost every night you’re home. i know your favorite movies are actually titanic and notting hill, and you only say it’s casablanca to get people off your back. and i know you want to do more with your life, and it frustrates you that you’ve been so confined to your lifestyle that you don’t know what more is.”

it’s all completely accurate, and it’s the revelation of the details sana’s kept about you — stored away and filed, labeled as fragile, important — that finally bursts the words into a river. “i love you,” you confess, like you’ll pour and not stop. you’ve never known the feeling, how it consumes and creates and crucifies.

“i know that, too,” sana replies, rolling her eyes harmlessly, and you’re surprised to find you smiling. “spending money is your love language, baby. you haven’t been very subtle about it.”

you’re always blindsided by people who know her feelings before she does. “what?”

“y/n,” sana says patiently, “you’ve spent about ten thousand dollars on me in the past month alone. and i know it wasn’t a thank-you for the many orgasms. it’s because you were thinking about me.”

you reach for one of sana’s couch pillows, bring it to your chest, and bury your face in it without a word, absolutely mortified. sana’s laughter echoes out, and you raise it again, halfway between a glare and a bargain. “what the fuck is a love language?”

“how you express your affection or whatever,” sana says, setting her mug on the coffee table and squeezing in next to you. too close. “there’s like, five i think. and yours is definitely gift-giving.”

“fuck.” it’s not really an argument, and sana seems entertained by the crumbling of walls, one arm resting over the back of the couch as she turns to face you. you ask, “so, what’s yours?”

“isn’t it obvious?”

“maybe if i knew what the others were,” you point out. “now who’s pretentious?”

sana’s eyes flash, slip to the hint of red. she smiles with her teeth and says, “acts of service and physical touch are mine. they go pretty hand-in-hand, don’t you think?”

you think of all the time sana’s spent learning every inch of your skin, not like worship but like sacrament — leaving fingerprint-bruises that ache deliciously to the touch, dusting your mouth like birthing constellations, rising oceans — touching you after with hands softer than the brown of her eyes, tracing your veins, charting course — your spine blends into a canyon — there’s been a journey here, there’s been an atonement — sana leans in, covers your mouth with her own, kisses you too tenderly for your mind to keep up with.

it all falls away, goes blissfully blank. maybe that’d been the sign all along.

“i love you,” sana murmurs over her lips, eyelids still shut, and bumps your foreheads together. “even if you are a pretentious bitch whose ringtone is river flows in you.”

“i love you,” you say in response, smiling, your palm cupping her cheek, “even if you are an arrogant asshole who thinks arrested development is the greatest sitcom of all time.”

“you just hate it because they’re basically you.”

“shut up.”

in the end, you’ve got enough money to run you both away, as long as the two of you are together.

“anywhere you want,” you say, tangled up with her in bed.

“you know,” sana says with a smile, brushing her thumb across your bottom lip, “i’m actually happy right where i am.”

#this is incredible #i’m in love with the cadence of your writing #like the way you capture how thoughts tend to flow one right after the next so quickly but you don’t make it choppy at all #it’s very pleasing to read that kind of flow #also LOVE that you include the other aspects of a dom/sub relationship re: roles both parties play outside of the act for example aftercare #love how reader is just putty in sana’s hands and sana KNOWS it hehe #but sana is also obviously devoted to reader as well #the development of their relationship is so satisfying and intimate #i also really enjoyed the dynamic between reader and nayeon LOL they’re so funny #& the relationship between nayeon and sana! you can tell nayeon really likes sana and finds her refreshing but also complex (bc she is!)#this is sexy and sweet and intense and fun all in one #sana x reader

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hiraiologist · 3 months

Text

killing me softly (with her song)

lovesick sana x fem reader ; thriller, yandere

summary: in which sana finds herself rapidly loosing grasp over herself, all just for you

warnings: blood, violence, sana being actually insane (i want her ^_^) kidnapping — ty to @jsluvtzu for being such a help during this fic :]

step— step— step

sana’s gentle on her feet, sun beaming down on her while she hums to some 70s R&B— smile plastered on her face.

she beams to those she passes, beams to the stray cats and dogs who roam the streets, beams to everything inanimate, the eagerness in her body manifesting itself in that first-love smile.

she smiles when she walks into the convenience store, quick to grab some random soft drink that she felt inclined to buy after the cute character on it smiled at her.

and of course, she smiles at the cashier when she places the beverage on the counter, moving to fish out her wallet— wait.

she looks back up, brows knitted as she glances to you. and suddenly, sana feels frozen.

you— smiling softly at her, long lashes fluttering with each blink, lips plump and pink.

“are you alright?”

sana breaks out into another smile, moving back to her bag, fetching the wallet, “just fine, miss…?” she looks back up, watching your delicate hands scan the drink, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, watching you.

“y/n.” you hum, typing in something quick on the screen, before turning back to sana, grin just a little wider— which sana credits to herself.

“nice to meet you, y/n. you’re very pretty.”

sana was never opposed to being blatantly honest.

you giggle, sliding the beverage over the counter to sana, looking up at her through your lashes, sana feels her heart stop.

“thank you, ma’am. have a good day.”

she can’t move, again, she doesn’t want to either. she doesn’t want this to end, not yet, it can’t. she simply stares, right into your eyes until someone behind her scoffs, shaking her from the paralysis.

—

sana is quick to recognize the infatuation that mixes in her— no, scratch infatuation, she’s sure it’s love. and she needs, needs to see you again.

didn’t matter the lack of words exchanged, didn’t matter the lack of time spent, sana was dead set on this.

and that’s why she’s here, back roaming down the street, baggy track pants and tight top, hair done all pretty, just for you. smile still settled on her face.

ding!

the bell of the door chimes, echoing in the store, and once she turns to the desk, she sees you. hair half up half down this time, wavy layers set on your back. you turn at the sound of the ding, eyes locking on sana’s, smile growing on your face.

relief.

she sighs, smile softening on her face as she pauses, hand stuttering as it raises to wave at you. she curses herself.

you wave back, no hesitation, giving a quick smile before turning to the customer in front of you, smile still on your face.

jealousy?

sana’s brows furrow, but she shakes it quick, letting herself go back to the fridges.

this time, sana opts to grab a water bottle, bitter taste still in her mouth after seeing how you looked at someone who wasn’t her. the disgusting feeling bubbles deep inside her, but enough to be pushed down— enough to be covered by sana’s unwavering excitement to just talk to you again.

she slugs over to the desk, stretching out the time spent getting there to avoid seeing you with someone else, just the thought corrupting her mind, paining her.

she stares down at her feet as she walks, before hearing you.

“hi again.” your tone is flirty, and effectively shoots sana’s head up, butterflies replacing whatever negative feelings that were looming within her.

whatever grimace that was on her face was easily replaced by a larger than life grin, gently setting the water on the table before you. “hey.”

“just a water today?” you tilt your head and sana swears you’re the cutest thing, she wishes so badly she could grab you up right now.

“uh, yeah.” she mutters, thinking of all the things she could do if you were just hers. she spaces in her thoughts while she admires you, admires the small hum and nod you make, admires it all. she needs to have you.

“alright, pay whenever you’re ready.” you’re looking up at her again, deja vu hitting from the last time she was in this position.

instead of freezing, sana quickly pays, not forgetting to throw you a smile.

“you live around here?” her voice is a little low, and the question is definitely a little odd. your face shifts, and sana grits her teeth, why would she give it up so quick? self anger bubbles in her, not noticing when your expression relaxes,

“yeah, just down the street actually.”

her eyes widen, did you really answer? did you really just reveal that to a stranger? she’s back to smiling, because now she knew you must’ve felt the same back, right?

—

the air is cold, flushing sana’s cheeks despite the sweatsuit she had covering her body, definitely one size too large for her.

but, that was just what she needed, to be shrouded from any curious eyes. to not be perceived as sana, just as a random person.

she stands by a tree, eyeing the apartment building before her, patiently awaiting your arrival. or, maybe not so patiently.

she’d waited, and waited, and waited. sitting in the parking lot until your shift was up, only to follow your car up until you pulled into the parking garage of your complex.

she tilted her head, growing more impatient, trying to remind herself that it was worth it for you. but she couldn’t help the simmering anger because where were you? were you with someone? why was it taking so long?

she cracked her knuckles, then her neck, almost ready to run to the parking garage to find you, until,

you.

long hair cascading down your back, flowing like waves, uniform off, now dressed down in a tee and sweats, soft bracelets decorating your wrist.

sana’s face softened, anger eased inside of her. she eyes you as you pushed your hair back, exposing your gorgeous neck, the one sana wanted to mark up so badly.

god, she needed you.

and god, was it getting so bad.

—

sana couldn’t smile.

not when it had been a whole 16 hours without having seen you.

she was angry, anger near boiling over at this point. she’d been trying to play the long game to have you, but that just felt impossible. you were seraphic, and absolutely divine.

the need was at its height, sana’s heart tightening every minute she wasn’t seeing you.

your social presence was absolutely non-existent, sana has tried, to no avail. she’d do anything to satiate her need, anything for you to finally be hers to see, and only hers.

she was walking, more sprinting, to your work.

baggy white tee pressed flush to her body from the force of the wind, black track pants perfectly loose, cap snug on her head.

her earbuds were on, shuffling her favorite playlist, every song drawing her thoughts deeper into you. you, you, you.

the moonlight beamed down on her, shadowing the top half of her face, her expression blank. sana had never felt so overcome with emotions, and she felt as if she could kill.

she huffed once she reached the store, opening the door wide, only to receive ignorance from you.

sana gritted her teeth harder, about ready to go grab you right then and there, only to realize the man standing in front of you. she immediately paused her music, leaning her head forward just a bit.

his hands were pressed against the counter, leaning over to try and get closer to you. sana felt her eye twitch. he was muttering nonsense, definitely incoherent from where sana stood, now analyzing the man, his dark green tee shirt, navy blue pants. she noted any stand out features, like the over the top sneakers he wore, or the bold rings on his fingers.

sana let her expression fall slack once more, taking careful steps toward him now.

by now, you’d noticed sana, noticed the lack of bright smile she usually wore, noticed the lack of the bubbly girl you knew.

the guy was rambling, chattering about how perfect your body was, how badly he wanted to fuck you in, and you could nearly gag.

once sana could actually make out what he was saying, she immediately felt her blood run hot. felt the way her head was suddenly ringing, the urge burning within her to hurt, and when she turned to meet your expression, seeing your teary eyes, she could hardly hold any of it back.

her breaths came harder as she closed in on the boy, hands tempted to grab the pocket knife in her back pocket, but she opted for something more simple. only because you were watching, of course.

“excuse me.”

sana rested a hand on the man’s shoulder, making sure to lock a firm grip against him. she heard him swear, trying to shimmy out of her grip, struggling hard as sana just tilted her head— a spider watching its prey writhe.

“what do you think you’re doing, freak!” he shouted, sana saw as you flinched, and immediately tugged him harder, forcing him away from the counter.

“don’t you find that ironic? you’re here harassing a girl, specifically, my girlfriend.” sana knew it wasn’t true, not yet, but pride soared in her heart, despite the disgusting situation. you didn’t react apart from a faint blush rising to your cheeks, sana wanted to smile, but as long as this man was in her perspective, she couldn’t enjoy you as thoroughly.

in sana’s head, that was the worst crime.

“leave.” she growled, swinging her arm and pushing him in the direction of the door. he just stood there, eyeing her before, swiftly turning away, heading in the direction of the parking lot— sana chose to keep that tight in her memory.

she looked back to you, seeing the relief wash over your face, and finally, she could enjoy you, no distractions, no one else, just you.

her own relief settled in her body, taking small steps forward to the register, giving you a warm smile.

“are you alright?”

you could only stare back at her, eyes watering, before you reached out to tug her into a hug.

sana felt her heart race, if looking at you was enough to make her heart flutter; then how could she even define how she felt having you holding her tight?

she immediately swung arms around you as best as she could from across the counter, nuzzling her nose in your hair, breathing in your scent.

she exhaled shakily, her body now on its own accord, feeling nearly everything at once.

“i was so scared.” you mumbled into her neck, the vibrations sending a pulse of need coursing through her body.

“it’s okay.” sana mumbled, petting your hair now with one hand, fingers occasionally brushing your neck. skin so soft and hair so silky, sana wanted her hands on you forever.

she felt you move to pull away, and as much as she wanted to hold on forever, she did have newfound business to attend to.

“did you… did you need something?” you asked, eyeing sana up and down, only worsening her wants from you.

she most definitely needed something, but that can wait.

“i- uh, i was just in the area, actually.” she excused, lifting hands to wave around as she spoke.

you slowly nodded, glancing up and down one more time.

“well, you look pretty today.” you smiled, fluttering your lashes at her. oh, god were you making this hard.

“you always look gorgeous, y/n.” she replied, eyes never daring to leave yours. you blushed, looking away and shrugging.

“well, i should probably get going. make it home safe tonight.” sana muttered, fighting an inner battle to leave, but when a customer walked in, she knew she had to make her move.

“alright, bye sana. see you.”

—

sana was out the door, clicking play on her music, turning it up, enough to muffle the sounds around her, but to not fully close off her hearing.

she tugged her cap down lower, slipping her pocket knife into her hand, then stuffing said hand into her front pocket, still clutching it tight.

she peeked over the edge of the wall, immediately catching the man, his rings shining from the lamp he leaned against, the light softly flickering to illuminate him just right. just enough for sana to tell it was him.

she smiled, soft on her face as her eyes narrowed.

strumming my pain with his fingers

she cracked her neck, swooping past the wall into view, man not bothering to glance up from his phone. she took casual steps, not bothering to sneak around, not like it’d matter.

crunchhh!

she raises a brow, not bothering to look at whatever she stepped on, opting to crunch it harder under her foot, undoubtedly gaining the attention of the man before her.

he glances up, confusion ridden on his face, clicking his phone off and into his pocket. the lights flicker.

“what are you doing?”

one time, one time

it’s hard to make him out, especially at the distance, but sana could tell given the situation what he was saying.

“couldn’t i ask you the same thing?” she takes a step closer, foot kicking back whatever she stepped on. her fingers toy with the knife in her pocket, tracing the cool metal with her fingertips. she pauses, eyeing him curiously, catching his jaw clench between flickers.

“is it any of your business?” he scoffs, pushing leg back from the post, moving forward, just enough to be shadowed from the light, only his silhouette visible.

“is it not?” her fingers tease the latch to open the knife, brushing over it gently, her own jaw tightening.

“i don’t really think it is, miss.” he chuckles, closing in closer.

singing my life with his words

“is that so?” her tone is flat, pressing closer, now within arms length of the man, posture straight and head tilted up, rim of her cap still down.

“yeah, unfortunately it is. why don’t you head home?” he nods at her, motioning her to leave, hands at his front, crossed at his chest.

sana feels her blood boil, a raw rage enveloping her body, a scary one. the bloodlust making her lose control of her own actions. she needed this man to suffer at her hand, he deserved it, did he not?

she takes another step closer, man raising a brow, letting out a low scoff-like laugh.

her mouth partially opens, heavy pants falling from her lips, before she retracts her fist, swinging as hard as she could.

crrrack!

sana licks her lips, the feeling of bone beneath her own knuckles euphoric, “fuck.” she mutters, grin settling on her face.

the man stumbles back, groaning and pulling a hand up to his jaw, rubbing only to cry out, pain only enhancing at his meek attempts to soothe.

“what’s— fuck, what’s wrong with you?!” he shouts, jaw dropped, brows furrowed, fingers clenching to fists before him.

“are you not the one sitting here waiting to harass a woman?” sana frowns, walking to where the man stumbled, digging her foot to the top of his, making him wince.

"you--! you bitch!"

he swings.

and he hits.

two times, two times

sana feels her stomach start to burn, slightly hunching over to cough, bringing her empty hand to her mouth. and when she pulls it away, she sees red, thick in the palm of her hand, and it only makes the vexation in her build. she forces out a chuckle, beyond shocked at the pure mistake this man made.

"fuck, you're gonna regret that so bad." sana manages to laugh out, voice hoarse as she glances back up to the guy, his face contorted in one of fear.

sana trudges over to him, soft giggles escaping between her huffs for air.

he stills, too scared to move, a deer in headlights when sana looks up at him. she lifts her other hand to him, object in her grasp undefinable, before she flicks her finger back, blade clicking into position, pointed directly at his neck.

killing me softly with his song

sana drives her hand forward, effectively slicing the corner of the man’s neck, smile growing on her face as he begins to plead for mercy, pleads that he’ll ‘do anything!’.

she loves it.

she tugs the knife out, blood splatting on the side of her face, from neck to the middle of her cheek, warmth seeping into her skin, she can only smile harder.

“p-please! anything! i’ll do anything at all!” his voice is strangled, and one of his hands rises to the gash at the side of his throat, not center enough to cause major damages, just a whole lot of pain.

sana rolls her eyes, scoffing, attitude to his pleasing seemingly changed.

“you already messed with my y/n, do you think anything on this planet is enough to compensate for that?” sana sees red, in far more than one way.

she grabs his shoulder, similarly to how she was before, but now she could act freely on those urges she felt, digging the blade into his side.

killing me softly with his song, telling my whole life with his words.

she’s precise, choosing not to end him quick, no, no, sana wants this to really last.

“how does that feel? tell me and maybe i’ll think about letting you go.” she tries not to laugh, she’d never think about letting him go, but she just loves the desperate pleas.

“c-cold!” it’s near a scream, and sana just can’t have that.

the knife twists in his side, squelching and cracking echoing in the lot as his body is turned to mush.

he yells out again, sana rolling her eyes, seems he can’t take a clue.

“fucking loser, i bet this is the most attention a woman has ever given you.”

she drags the knife out of the sloppy mess in the side of his body, admiring the blood as it shimmers with the moon, thick and deep red. sana feels a new pressure in her stomach, one of something more sinful.

“fuck…”

she can only imagine how pretty your blood would be.

she shakes the thought, smacking herself softly with the tip of the knife, more sticky red coating her face, now up to her brow.

“focus, sana!”

she turns back to the man, now grasping his stomach on the floor, quietly groaning in pain, eyes firmly shut. he tries to push his body away from her and it’s just so pathetic.

she shakes her head, how weak.

sana drops to her knees, eyes lingering over the mess of his body. she inhales, content, and exhales, ready to finish what she started.

“this was deserved, you and i both know it.”

she sinks the blade into his chest, watching as he spasms on the ground, delighted when the blood spurts up onto her tee and her arms. he twitches, just a little longer, and sana tilts her head, admiring it, such a raw moment, the last ones this man would ever live. his twitching starts to stutter, fading out as he goes limp, sana sighing, sinking the blade in a little deeper, just to hear the messy wet sound it makes.

killing me softly with his song

she hums, swiftly drawing the knife out of him, standing up to enjoy her work, pulling the knife up to tap on her own neck, occasionally tracing it over her pulse point, such little pressure away from sinking in. she pauses her music, sighing to herself, listening to the rustle of trees and beyond.

and then, she catches it, the closing of the front door to your work.

fuck.

sana looks around, only seeing some smaller pallets and a large trash can to duck behind, both unfortunately close to the only car in the lot, which must’ve been yours.

fuck.

sana bolted back, tucking herself behind the trash can, peeking through the pallets to try and see what happens.

she didn’t mean for you to see this, never, so when she watches you round the corner, jaw dropping and hand rising to your mouth in fear, her heart burns.

you scream, knees buckling as you fall to the floor, eyes wide in horror. you cant find any words, or any motivation to move, just shock coursing through your veins as you stare at the mangled body mere inches from your car.

sana pouts, seeing the fear written on your face and she huffs, forcing herself to look away before she tries to run out there and comfort you.

she throws her head back, pure instinct before realizing what she did, the echoey thud of the trash can making her cringe.

fuck.

you hear it, obviously, eyes even larger than before, moving to your feet, trying not to step on anything loud.

the only way out is your car, parked directly next to the trash can, so with the steadiest steps you can, you move to the vehicle.

sana, thinks you’re trying to see who made that sound, her hand immediately moving to her mouth, preventing any sound from slipping, any breath from falling. this could be it for her, for you, for the two of you. the thought alone made the worst sinking feeling settle in her. tears burned at her eyes, hands shaking and grip getting tighter over the knife.

but before she knew it, her panic came to halt, hearing you unlock and slam the car door.

sana lives another day.

—

it’s 3:24 pm

sana feels like she’s going insane, she hasn’t seen you in a day and a half now, and you weren’t at work when she checked yesterday, much to her dismay.

in fact, the whole place has been closed temporarily after the killing, so she had to take matters into her own hands to bump into you.

so all morning, she’d been doing laps around your apartment complex, silently praying she bumps into you, praying she can see you now.

she reaches the the front of your complex once more, stopping at the bench that sits in front to take a breather, as she has every lap now. she lifts her tee up, patting her sweat from her forehead, then moving to her neck, tilting her head back just a little.

“sana?”

her heart stops.

she drops everything she’s doing, turning and meeting, of course, your eyes.

“y-y/n?” she’s beyond ecstatic, not even bothering to hide her excitement, eyes widening and smile starting to stretch on her face.

you chuckle, shaking your head slightly before walking over to her, sitting right next to her.

“what are you doing here?” you smile, grabbing one of her hands in your own— it’s a perfect fit, her bigger hands enveloping your smaller ones. you’re just so so soft and perfect all over.

“i could ask you the same right?” sana laughs, lie rolling off her tongue easily.

“i guess you’re right, i live right around here.” you shrug, eyes lowering to her lips. she grins.

“yeah? me too. i usually come around her for cardio, it’s peaceful.”

she wasn’t really wrong, recently she had been lurking in this area on her morning runs.

“oh, that’s cool!” you say, looking back up to her eyes, giving her the sweetest smile.

“yeah, you know, i was actually wondering if you maybe wanted to…” sana looks around, she can’t believe she’s actually nervous, not like you’d say no to her, right?

“come over? i can cook you dinner, it’ll be a super laid back home-y date.” she flashes the smile she sent you the first day she saw you, praying to anything that you would say yes, that she’d finally, finally have you where she wants you.

you’d finally be at her hands, from then until forever. just how she wanted.

you look at her, knitting brows together as you thought, looking around before shrugging, smile plastered on your face once more.

“that sounds perfect!”

—

sana was sat, antsy on her couch, knee bouncing up and down as excitement jolted through her body.

she stared at the door, waiting for your knock, opting to watch it for the last hour instead of look at her phone, or even bother cooking the dinner she said she would.

it could all wait for once you woke up.

ding!

sana squeals, rising onto her feet and bouncing to the door, not forgetting to grab her pretty pink handkerchief, doused in a generous helping of chloroform. she put the hand behind her back, stepping up to the door before swinging it open.

and you looked stunning.

you hair was done all pretty, makeup too, and you wore the perfect jeans and feminine top. sana just couldn’t wait.

“y/n!” she smiled, opening the door a little wider, motioning with her head to come in.

“hi sana.” you giggled back. the lack of smell in the house confused you, but maybe she waited to cook until you arrived, so you shrugged it off, standing and admiring the large penthouse before you.

“wow sana, it’s so pretty here!” you hummed, clasping your hands togetehr in front of you.

“ah, thanks y/n, that means a bunch.” she lingers behind you; watching as you excitedly glance around.

“so, what’s the plan for— mmph!”

your cut off as soon as your turn to her, her hand pressing the cloth to your nostrils and mouth, other one locking around your waist, ensuring you don’t move while the anesthetic kicks in.

“hey, don’t worry, y/n. it’ll be fine, really.” she smiles, eyes softening as you tried to wiggle out of her grasp. she pulls you closer, bodies flush together and her lips gracing your ear, it’s a bit uncomfortable for her hand that’s pressed against your mouth, but it’s okay for sana to bare.

“don’t make this harder than it has to be, baby. i’m gonna treat you like the princess you are, no need to fight that right?” her breath is hot and damp in your ear, and sends a shudder down your spine. you start to feel more dizzy, your struggles to escape backfiring as you panted in more air.

“that’s a good girl, relax for me baby, i swear, i’ll love you just right.”

she pushes the two of you to the couch, you very clearly stumbling, pulling the both of you into it, where sana grabs the remote, clicking play, and starting up her favorite song. humming along to it gently as she holds you tight, pressing kisses into your hair.

strumming my pain with his fingers

you feel yourself slipping, eyes harder to keep open.

singing my life with his words

sana sings along into you, vibrations only easing your further into slumber, you try so hard to hold on, but you know there’s no use.

“that’s it, that’s my baby, just let go for me.”

you start to slip, feeling yourself on the brink of passing out, the drowsiness striking hard. and the next time you blink, you’re out.

killing my softly with his song

#oh i ate this UP #i love how direct and unhinged sana’s perspective is here #such a fresh and unique depiction of sana that still showcases her as charming while making her dark and violent #i love insane women #sana x reader

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