The Greatest Thing You’ll Ever Read
The greatest thing you’ll ever read
untethered devotion
witch!son chaeyoung x witchhunter!reader || angst, smut, fluff
synopsis: was love the biggest sin you ever committed?
warnings: smut ; cursing ; more enemies to lovers ; nightmares ; death threats ; reader is a complete idiot ; chaeyoung is questioning all morals at this point ; winter to spring kinda idk ; some violence ; cold but soft at the same time ; not proofread
pls read this first for context
later that same night, you dream of chaeyoung.
it had become all the usual for you now: fleeting sounds of her laugh and glimpses of her long, black hair or the tattoo marks on her skin. a serene nightmare that would haunt you in every second you were awake, but this was clear to you, despite being brutal.
you’re chasing her around the cabin. the four walls surrounding you are closing in, forcing themselves closer and closer together, but chaeyoung is somehow just out of reach. she glances back in many takes, giggling in mirth with a shine in her eyes. get me! they speak to you–like a siren in the ocean. i want you to catch me.
and when you do catch her—finally, bunching your fingers into the pelt that she’s wearing, slamming her to the wall. she’s laughing still, mocking you—like this was all a game to her. even after you press close and shove your knees between her bare thighs, your hands find her slimming throat and are squeezing.
your lips part with a stranlgled breath. “you’re nothing but a demon’s bride to me, witch.” you spit, thinking of the facade she’s emitting: and flowers are sprouting out from the soft snow.
she whispers to you, a smile on her face still.
“y/n.”
you’ve heard her say your name before, the only time was earlier but it’s all she says to you here. you heave her up the wall, wringing her neck. you lock eyes with chaeyoung as hers are slowly fading, light and life fading at the clutches of your fingers. you breathlessly giggle at the moment you’re enjoying.
and she strokes your face. the look almost like she was in love with you.
chaeyoung grapples against you, nails digging into your collar, trying to shake herself off to break free and she falls against the wall. she’s limp, a smile still on her face. “y-y/n.” she croaks out one last time before slacking. you lower her to the floor, tugging closely, trailing your fingers over her pulsepoint, there’s nothing. no feeling, no breath, or sound.
she’s dead–
you immediately shoot up from the bed upright, chest heaving, gasping for air. a cold sweat is spread over your upper body. looking over to your side, seeing chaeyoung’s face in a fully relaxed slumber. still alive. a wave of overwhelming relief that is coursing through you, still trying to recover from the horror.
with a shaking hand, you part her lightly soft hair and kiss her temple once, twice, and a third time–each peck being more forceful than the last. you then press your nose to her hairline, the scent of lavender soap and flowers clashing with the cold under the covers.
“thank god.” you whisper. “thank god.”
chaeyoung wakes up that next morning to find you kneeling by the fire, your large, long hands bloody from skinning the wolf you slain yesterday. when you notice that she’s awake, you smile.
“you okay?”
“better,” chaeyoung replies, rubbing her temples. the throbbing sensation no longer there to the point where her vision isn’t blurring at the edges of her eyes, but still. she was worried at the recklessness that you pulled that made her drain most of her healing powers. the fortune of not falling into a coma–since it’s happened before (not to her thankfully).
“here,” you say, as chaeyoung continues to make sure that everything was alright with her body, handing her a hefty piece of meat and a thick piece of bread that was wider than her palm. “i cooked us breakfast.”
“you could’ve just had me do it.”
“i can cook too ya know,” you drawl. “the least you can do is say thank you.”
chaeyoung blushes, brought down back to earth as she reaches for the meal. the meat itself you prepared was tough but tender when she bites into it, the hopeful expression that you have on your face pushes her to light up with enjoyment. humming while nodding her head at the taste, you grin.
after downing the bitten piece, she asks, “is this the…?”
“the wolf? it is.”
“oh.” chaeyoung looks down, remembering the cuts and gashes spread across your skin, the dazed look in your eyes as you stared up at her. “i did it for you.”
“s-so how are you-”
“better, more than better actually.” you say brightly, lifting your shirt to show. “no scars. you’re really a miracle worker, chaeyoung.”
she blushes after this sudden compliment, “it was just a simple healing magic spell. a child would know how to do it.”
“either way, i thank you.”
your gaze was a little too intense, penetrating chaeyoung right in the face, so she looks down at her meal and scarfs down another bite. after cleaning up, you ask, “it’s actually a pretty nice trick to have.”
“what?”
“your healing.”
“how is it a nice trick?”
“well,” you begin, glancing at the skinned wolf you were working on and chaeyoung. “when hunters like me go out to hunt and come back hurt, it’s nice to have someone who can tend to their needs.”
chaeyoung blinks, struck at the sense of deja vu taking over her, but pushes past it, scooting herself closer to you. “and what is it that you’re implying? are you saying that i should be a wife for you?”
your glistening face shines with a flush, a rosy pink that chaeyoung is pleased to see. “it’s just the right, sensible thing to do.”
“a wife tending to your needs?”
“i-i didn’t mea–” you shift, turning your body to square with hers. “the whole role of me bringing essentials for you. like providing really.”
chaeyoung hums, remembering that her father did the same to some extent as well as her mother. “while i– i mean, while your wife does something to keep herself occupied like sewing?”
you chuckle. “yes. sewing or anything homey.”
chaeyoung’s eyes flutter away from you, heart thudding at how unbearably fond you look currently, trying to think of something to switch up the topic. “aren’t you more into well, guys?”
“nope. i despise men.”
“really?”
“not my kind of thing at all.”
she sits back on the seat, recalling the occasion of how the girls in her village would dress up nice with flowers in their hair–coming back all flushed out and drunk while you sat there with lips parted at the surprising activity that you didn’t even expect for her to take part in.
“i thought you said that your village was all girls?”
“it was! but we had various travelers visit and some of them were actually enticing to–”
“i don’t believe this! how did we talk about house roles to–”
chaeyoung notices that you’re blabbering about some nonsense again, but she thinks that you actually enjoy throwing her off with just pure randomness that’s coming out of your mouth.
“all im saying is that the hunter or person of the house provides for the wife while she stays inside and keeps the home nice and tidy! providing for the family is always the most important thing and you as a woman would know that!”
“did you just–” chaeyoung’s ears perk up at the word that slipped from your mouth. “did you just say wife?”
“what?!” you shout out, blushing. “i don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“i heard you loud and clear. whatever happened to calling me a demon’s bride that your hunters were so proud of yelling. did you happen to figure out which one i’ve sold my soul to yet y/n?”
“you’re not married to a demon,” you growl, striking the blade through the wooden table next to you. “i’d kill that demon myself if that were the case.”
“luckily, i’m not.” chaeyoung huffs out.
“good.”
after you say that, chaeyoung swivels to face the wall, mind racing at your words that were turning in her head. why would you two feud about something that isn’t even brought to fruition in the first place?
at the end of the day, you think that she’s a demon’s bride, she clicks her teeth together in a wretched scrunch. a loose end is what i am chaeyoung thinks.
the thought of you dreaming up your ideal spouse and have her play the role. from cooking your meals, caring for your wounds, and even sleeping together in the same bed. she–a skeptic, the runt of the litter, the witch–-not some esteemed woman from the kingdom. you had the audacity to call her a wife without even implying the term directly.
chaeyoung’s upright posture droops down at the realization that she was playing the role of your ideal spouse. it’s been that way for so long now…making fur clothes, hunting for the next meal, and keeping her warm…
you keep your back faced towards chaeyoung, finishing up the last of the skinned wolf that you killed the other day. a blush coming through as you huff out in distress.
hours pass into the evening, and when you slip under the furs, chaeyoung rolls on her side and asks, “i’ve been thinking.”
“thinking of what?” you say to her, wrapping your arm around her head so that she could get more comfortable. it should’ve felt weird, but it’s so natural now.
“about the family thing. the roles that we’re playing. romance. all of that.”
“that’s more like marriage,” you say, shifting your body to get yourself more comfortable, blankets slipping to expose both of your chests. “romance is different…almost like connecting with someone that you’re destined to be with.”
chaeyoung blinks. “i’m confused.”
letting out a sigh, followed by a light smile. “i see it to be weird, but romance is beautiful to have. to fall for someone even when you least expect it.”
“but…” chaeyoung starts, considering what you were saying, before shaking her head after. “besides that, what did you mean about the roles that a married couple would have? that’s what i’m trying to get at here.”
“why do you ask?”
“just curious, i’ve only heard stories from my mother about a life full of love and happiness.”
you then pull her closer to you, chucking beneath her chin with a smile that has so much endearment to the emotion. “i’d be happy to share a little about my life.”
chaeyoung taps the end bone of your clavicle, synapses conducting in her mind of a question that could pry a little more into you that you’ve kept so secret about.
“why did you become a witch hunter?”
you stare at her, face still at the surprise question. “it was the only way out for me.”
“what about your mother?” chaeyoung asks, refusing to imagine the kind of life that you brought yourself upon in the harsh ranks of finding and killing her kind.
you utter a laugh that’s filled with dead humor, eyes drawing bitterly and the urge of malice running through your veins. “she died because i couldn’t save her.”
“how did she die?”
air comes out of your nostrils, brows creased together in annoyance to the traumatizing memory. “what do you think? it was a witch that killed her.”
chaeyoung’s body freezes at this. “a-a witch?” her face creases after, “i’m sorry y/n.”
you pat her exposed shoulder, dismissing her apology without even saying a word. “my mom fell in love with my father who was in love with another woman. it sounds pathetic, but she went to a well known witch in our town who was a very reliable helper. well, that was the case if she didn’t ask for money like the greedy bitch she was.”
glancing at chaeyoung, a dark humor in your eyes when she meets yours with a silent trepidation, so you continue:
“my mom went to the witch one day with a favor, and the witch told her for a few measly coins, she could make the flesh on one’s body curdle off the very bone; rip the air away from their lungs; rot a beating heart. she was desperate, so the witch agreed. she wanted my father back if it meant doing things that costed a life.
“that’s–” chaeyoung’s voice rises then dips down to a faint whisper, almost trying not to have the dark one’s presence over them. “black magic.”
you raise a brow, looking down at her with much more intrigue, “you’re sounding that this is something that you don’t practice?”
“are you kidding?” she asks you, horror in her voice breaking through, “you’re–you’re not allowed to do that. if one crazy witch were to partake in practicing that art, you’ll die trying to get what you so deeply desired.”
“well, the price itself was steep,” you say, blinking repeatedly, “everyone got sick in my hometown and my father did everything to help. it was no use anyway, she died within the next week or so.”
“and…what about the witch?”
you break a smug grin, slowly piercing your teeth through as if you’ve been waiting for that very question since you’ve met chaeyoung, “you know what they say about revenge? it’s like a wish granted from the gods above. i saw that bitch minding her own business in the market, whistilng to herself. i couldn’t believe the sight when i saw her. she killed my mom, and she just went on with her day like it was nothing.” your voice becomes more grim, mouth curling, “like she was just a normal human being.”
chaeyoung’s heart flutters, like a bird or animal wanting to be let out of their caged barrier the way her heart was beating inside her chest. “so, what did you do?”
“i killed her of course,” you whisper. “she walked into the alleyway where i trailed her from the market. i remember picking up a blade of glass and everything that followed after: how she screamed, how i screamed, the hot blood flowing out of her neck, the heavenly sounds of her taking her last breaths. i wished that she lived longer, so that she could feel more pain.”
chaeyoung stares at you, speechless, breath siphoned out from the actions you just said. how could you be like this? she thinks, wanting to push herself away from you. but then again, were you anything else besides a monster?
you keep going:
“my father was never the same after my mother’s death. twisted from a normal man to a crossbreed of a monster and living corpse. he said if i were to become a witch hunter, it would make him proud. so i did what he asked, only for him to die as well not long after.”
“y/n, y-you–”
“i despise witches because of how they’ve taken literally everything away from me. because of their greed, the deviancy, i lost my mother and father. my mother, chaeyoung, do you have–” you take a sharp inhale, eyes darting to the window above you, tears welling up in your eyes. looking back after compiosng yourself, an accusation is spelled across your face. “you don’t know what it’s like to have that happen to you.”
chaeyoung huffs a bitter laugh in disbelief, “i don’t know what it’s like? do you even hear yourself right now?”
“some would understand.”
“you’re the one to tell me that i don’t have any idea how it feels to have your life ruined? to have someone barge in and destory everything that you loved and cherished? you don’t think i know what it’s like to be angry?”
“how would you know?” you demand. “since you think you know better.”
“because of you.” she says pointedly. “you are that witch to me y/n, you and the rest of your fucking hunters. you ruined my life. took my family away from me. you—”
“they were witches. they—”
“deserved it? christ there were children. diana was only seven!”
“she—” you stutter, eyes widened. “but they–”
“you’re saying that i desterved it then? what would you do if you were forced to kill–”
“i’m not saying that at all,” you try to interject.
“it could’ve happened! if i were killed like the rest of them, knowing what you know me now, would i have deserved it just because i’m a witch to you? where’s the honesty in that y/n?”
`you sit up staring at her, lost. because of her anger, she pushes you against the wall where the window was over the bed, expectant, but you couldn’t answer her. your jaw slacks, parted lips but close after. you only manage to breathe out her name before she’s decided that this conversation was enough.
chaeyoung whirls around to face the door, scooting herself to the edge of the bed, far away from you. eyes stinging with tears, “i’ve heard just enough. thank you for your illuminating insight.”
“chaeyoung—”
“don’t touch me,” she snaps at you, flinching your outstretched hand away. “i think we both should just go to bed. we’re done talking for today.”
you slither back down on the mattress and into the fur sheets, reluctant. chaeyoung can feel the burning attention through the darkness in the cabin, but only after about ten minutes, the deep slow tide of your labored breathing lets her know that you’ve fallen asleep. only then she lets the tears fall on her face.
she’s not qute sure how this very conversation came as such a daunting reality check—the loathing that you told her for her people the second they met, but—but it hurts. and it hurts. wildly. sensationally. every sob that leaves chaeyoung’s mouth was another nail on the cross she has to bear.
i thought you were different.
she curls in on herself, back against yours, biting into her fist to stifle her sobs and whimpers.
you were supposed to be different.
the idea comes to her very easily in the middle of the night.
madness of it all overcoming in a distressing thought present in her mind.
chaeyoung stares down at you, unseeing. furs fallen below the waist, and the moonlight creating shadows along your canvased body. the sight sparks a warm fire in her, but it’s all overpowered by horror, vitriol even.
take y/n’s knife, a voice whispers from within her head, sinister and insidious. take her knife and slit her throat while she sleeps.
she could—and she can. she’s seen you prepare your essentials before heading out for hunting during the day to the point where she knows where you keep your weapons–on the rack, near the door— and chaeyoung has all the cause to put into effect; the gods above know she has every single justification. it’s all so simple to do, all she has to do is just do it.
chaeyoung gets up and tiptoes to the clothing rack to the door, slipping your dagger away from your sheath with a trembling hand. walking back, each step heavy and slow, calculated even, crawling back to the bed and over you. through the dim moonlight breaking through the window, she can see your pretty face with relaxed sleep, lips parted with even breaths passing through. her heart leaps to her throat, almost like blood flooding upwards and aching.
she leans over you, pressing the jagged edge to your adam’s apple. gritting her teeth, she musters up all the courage she could and slices-
just as quickly as it would seem, your eyes shoot open. larg hands flying to chaeyoung’s wrists, rolling her over in a flash, pinning her to the first and squeezing painfully. chaeyoung bursts into tears.
you kept calm, chaeyoung on the other hand implodes at your touch, the waves of grief, rage, and guilt for not killing you, the guilt stinging even more for even wanting to end your life in the first place.
“i’m sorry,” she sobs out, shaking fitfully, trying to break free from your clutches. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.”
her voice cracks at the end, fading into thin air while you press your body close. shusing her by trailing your finger over her face and lips.
“it’s okay baby beast,” you breathed out softly. “there’s no need to cry, my precious one.”
chaeyoung’s hand curls around your firm bicep–trying to push you away, muchso like pulling you closer. you run your palm over her wet cheek, hushing her, crooning her name in a soothing tone, a gentle cadence until her sobs diminish into more short, hitched breaths. you trail your thumb at the beauty mark under her lip again.
“would it make you happier? to kill me?”
yes, yes, yes, yes, chaeyoung thinks, her heart pulsing more blood in her system. but no. no. it wouldn’t make me feel happier at all.
you don’t wait for her answer, slipping your hand over her trembling wrist and forces the blade upwards, securing the cold steel against the skin of your throat. chaeyoung is shaking earnestly now, her head thrashing against the mattress no, no.
“i can give it to you if that’s what you want. my life.”
“wait, y/n no please—”
“or—” you take the knife away from her hand, flinging it against the darkness of the cabin, before laying her palms against your neck. your eyes were dimming, fevered you would say. “use your magic on me baby beast. kill me with your magic.”
and—just for a moment, she tries to. staring up into your face and tries to remember how it felt from the first glance at you, what would have been ages ago, how so easy and simple it was for her to have enough hatred for you. the dreamy thought of setting your blood on fire, frezzing you to stone before cracking the skin into tiny pieces. the red cyclone in her chest, filled and fueled with loathing.
chaeyoung wanted you dead. to see you rot at her touch.
as that impulsive anger sparks, the regret washes through right after. she cringes away, curling her hands into fists that you bind back onto the mattress with just your one large hand over her head. she’s sobbing, her body shuddering with every dragged out exhale, and you’re hushing chaeyoung again, lips trailing over her face with subtle kisses. “chaeyoung, my baby beast, the beauty of my eyes.”
“i’m sorry,” she weeps out. it’s all she can say at this point. the sharp, agonizing remorse stabs her chest to no refreain, the way your team of hunters stabbed her sisters, the way you did. but she’s clinging onto you, tilting her neck when you kiss down beneath her jaw, sucking her pulse point. chaeyoung’s in too deep. she can’t undo this mistake if she even thought of trying.
“i’m not mad at you.” you go for another chaste peck at her chin, her eyelids, the slope of her cheekbone, the trail of her tears. “don’t cry baby, i could never be mad at you.”
in what way or world can she explain that this isn’t your anger that she cares about but her own? the pulses of tempered rage and grief still present in her mind, pins eating her up from the inside. chaeyoung wants to be angry at you so badly—it’s clear that you were the enemy, it shouldn’t be this difficult—but she isn’t, not really.
she’s just angry at herself and the weakness that she poses, how quickly it took for you to firmly place yourself as the one thing she needs in her life; one that she can depend on. she needs you now. so when you mouth down her face, she lets it happen-
willingly,
eagerly,
and whimpers once you two lock lips.
an unforgiving heaven, a cursed homecoming.
the piercing betrayal and sin that seemed to invite itself in. you groan at the first touch of her lips when chaeyoung finally opens up to you, blooming like a flower in this cold world. while your other hand was keeping her two hands captive, you stroke her wet cheek, chaeyoung clings to you.
“mine,” you breathe out, kissing her languidly, pressing her deeper into the mattress. mine. she fights the tempting laugh. how could she be so blind to this?
chaeyoung pulls you back to her lips, afraid of hearing you speak, and shimmies a bit when she feels the rough palms slide up her legs, feeling the fabric of her dress. once you were settled, chaeyoung gasps in your face from the sensation of your trousers ripping against her thighs, the flex of your hard muscles beneath her touch. she’s sliding a finger down your abs, nails catching the little divot of a v-line just meeting your waistband.
a swiped scratch from her and your hips buck forward, accidentally tapping her bare cunt. chaeyoung lets out a startled squeak from her throat, and you get the prompt to roll your hips into a slow grind. she’s throwing her head back, gasping, and wraps her arms around your neck.
“you like that, don't you?” you grin, rocking your upper-most thigh a little more with a refined pace. your eyes are lidded, fluttering with much more bravado. “i–it feels good to you?”
chaeyoung isn’t responding, only placing a sloppy kiss to your chin and continues to gyrate against your leg. the fabric of your trousers is starting to hurt her just a bit, but the ache is also gratifying. the justification not bearing to mind.
you begin to kiss lower, down to her neck and chest, where you pause to palm her breasts, the sparks in your eyes. sliding the nightgown up to the top of her waist and brushing your mouth around her abdomen, fingers exploring every dune and the plush skin of her thighs, forcing them like parting the sea of great moses. the heat is now presented in all of its glory between chaeyoung’s legs, the eagerness, all sense of rational thought no longer there. she whines when you press a kiss to her cunt.
“oh,” you sigh out, rapturous, and kisses her again. tongue hot against her pink flesh. the slick and wetness already on your mouth. “you’re so sweet, darling. i wish i could die doing this.”
and like someone who was deprived of water in the desert, you dive back down, feasting on her core, spreading her lips to lick up and down. keeping your ear open to listen for what makes the more noise out of chaeyoung’s mouth, neglecting the actions that doesn’t have the same praise. when you find her clit, her stomach spikes, the ecstacy racing down from her spine. you’re searching for it, like a hawk floating in the air waiting for it’s prey. her pussy against your plush mouth, sucking, nibbling, humming until you can hear her shrieks.
chaeyoung leans forward to look down, cheeks flushing hotly when she finds your gaze already on her, eyes meeting with greed. she feels the slide of your tongue in her entrance to thrust it inside her and she’s sobbing again, falling back, rocking her hips against your face.
“please,” she can hear herself begging. “god, please, please, please-”
“i need to do this again,” you growl in between sucks on her clit. the deep vibration of your voice sending signals through her body. “but if you want to kill me, do it like this, chaeyoung. break my fucking neck.”
there’s a pang of sorrow–guilt breaking through at the reminder, but this toe-curling pleasure is quick to replace it. you’re thrusting your tongue deep, laving at her fluttering walls. the sounds that chaeyoung is hearing coming out of your mouth is almost unholy, but it’s only increasing the anticipation. she feels as if she’s standing on a cliffside, the reveling sensation from the swoop of her belly as she waits for the fall; the imaginary coil–burning while it sits heavy in her cut to finally come undone. all that it’s gonna take is—
two digits of fingers sinks into chaeyoung’s core, rubbing upwards, your thumb pressing hard against her clit, and she finally breaks, sobbing as she clenches around you like a vice. you swallow the gush of wetness that follows through, moaning loudly, before crawling up to her shaking body to take her into your arms. the pusling sensation from your own core is staning itself with so much persistence, but you make no move to get yourself off. instead, you kiss chaeyoung’s face—again and again and again and agai—fixing your mouth to her ear, nibbling on her hanging lobe.
“i am yours chaeyoung, from when i am still breathing until the moment i die. this devotion of mine is all that i need.” you whisper.
chaeyoung huffs out a groan. she’s heard something like that from the wise women of the village that was almost another mantra.
devotion.
you wake up the following morning to find chaeyoung sitting up, blankly staring forward with her back against the headboard. eyes soaked.
a simpering grin spreads across your face and you scoot closer, taking her into your arms. she gasps, startled, but you press a kiss to her lips and swallows the sound. when she pushes back against you, you slide down, sucking at the delicate line of her throat. her fingers are clutching around your arm as she tilts her head back, choking on a sigh. you grin and drop another open chaste kiss to her collarbone.
“my tiger cub,” you whisper, clinging to her. chaeyoung twitches a bit, clasping a hand around your wist, but you twine your fingers to hers, pressing a hard kiss to the back of her hand and middle knuckle. her face crumples, almost if she’s pained that this is happening between you two.
but you’re an idiot, and you’re oblivious to this. staring at her face, the pinched brows and the baby pink curve of her pouty lips, you had to wonder when all of this had started to change. when did the sight of her—something that was used to fuel his hatred, a disdain that burned so hot within you–became so dear. loving chaeyoung now was the same essential as breathing.
you want to say the words. the words are primed against your tongue, and they are heavy. heart beating with a pulsing, wet mass in the mold of it.
“we should get out of here,” chaeyoung croaks out, suddenly, you smile, kissing the arch of her jaw.
“but where would we go? a vacation down south? i think the weather is way better down there and it’s sunny.”
“no.” to your surprise, her voice audibly cracks and she’s flinching herself away from you, shifting to the edge of the bed. she’s hunched over with knees to her chest and covers her face with her hands. “y/n, we have to leave.”
“why?” you snap, sharply. panic begins to unravel in the pit of your stomach, a chill coming over your skin. you want to hug her, have chaeyoung in your arms or seal yourself with her, but she’s distancing herself. chaeyoung herself is shaking her head in disappointment.
“because this isn’t—” chaeyoung suddenly surges to her feet and whirls around. your chest is caving in at the sight of tears on her face; you want to wipe them away, replace them with kisses. “w-what the hell happened last night? i don’t…this doesn’t make sense. i put a knife to your throat, but you… i can’t—”
“chaeyoung, calm down. what is that you’re trying to say?”
“i don’t understand us. what we have here doesn’t make sense. we’re supposed to hate each other.”
you laugh, the alarms in you not really ringing. is this really what she’s worried about right now?
“i haven’t hated you for a long time now, baby beast,” you say with a stern tone, amused. “and what happened last night was inevitable. that was the end result of everything that we’ve been working towards to.”
“y/n, i tried to kill you.”
pure thrill courses through your veins again, and you grin. “exactly.”
“what! are you actually insane?! i tried to slit your throat! i was going to!”
“and i would’ve let your. if anyone is going to kill me, chaeyoung, i wanted it to be you. only you. my life is yours.”
“so?!” she laughs out—almost like a sob even. “this is just some—s-some twisted marriage pact that you’ve created?”
“i didn’t create anything!” you argue. “what in the fuck do you think we’ve been doing?!”
“i don’t know! none of this doesn’t make sense to me anymore!”
you get off from the bed, stalking over to you. “i’ve hunted and protected you. i kept you warm in this harsh cold that nature has thrown at us. i’ve been the one who’s providing. this has never been about killing you since we got here. and it hasn’t been for a very fucking long time!”
“you should hate me!” chaeyoung shrieks. tears are rolling down her cheeks again just like last night. “you should want to kill me! last night when i had your own knife against you throat, you should’ve killed me instead!”
the mere notion of holding her in your arms while blood is leaking from her sliced opening, the blood on your blade is more than enough to send your head in a twisting madness. “i couldn’t. i would never.”
“you should. you’re supposed to hate me.”
“i don’t. if anything, i-i—” a raw, brazen courage crawls up your throat, and you speak before you could even think twice about it.
“i love you.”
chaeyoung shakes her head from the three words you just uttered stupidly—”i love you, chaeyoung.”
“that’s a fucking lie. no you don’t,” she sobs, bowing slightly with her head off to the side. “you don’t”
“it’s what i feel! you could tell me otherwise, but it’s the truth! i love you!”
“no! you hate me! you hate everything that i am! you think i’m a dirty runt-pig-whore and you’ve always have!”
“when did i ever say—”
“the first night we met! when the hunters tried to—you asked them if it was compelling to fuck a pig!”
“you–” you can’t believe she’s saying this. you can’t believe that you’re hearing this. “that was before i got to know you.”
“do you have to know someone before you compare them to a fucking animal!?”
your mouth opens, throat staining with the urge to argue, to reason everything that was entirely not true, but you remain speechless. the words are just not there. you place your hand over your face, fighting back the tears from coming out as chaeyoung wipes her own. her voice is more sorrowful, the tone quieter when she says, “you can’t love and hate me for what i am, y/n, that’s not how love works.”
“i don’t—” i don’t hate what you are, you want to say, but the daring lie stirs sourly in your mouth. of course you hate for what she is. her kind is the reason you vowed to see everything true to the end. it’s all hatred, and you were devoted to fulfill it.
“y-you are the exception,” you weakly say, but chaeyoung’s expression falls more, covering her face with her hands.
“this needs to stop. it’s not good anymore, this life that we built together. this false charade that we’ve been deluding ourselves into.” her words are falling to a more worked sob, and you swallow the lump in your throat, chest shaking. “i can’t play the role of your little wife anymore, y/n. we need to leave.”
you want to stand your ground. but you can’t argue with what she’s saying when she’s right. the rage screaming out to act angry. your expression is stoic and the you on the inside wants to bury your face into her stomach, begging for comfort, for her love, to stay.
but you do nothing.
instead, you stomp toward the rack next to the door and toss chaeyoung her wolf pelt.
“fine,” you start, putting on the layers of fur on your back with so much efficiency, “if you want to leave so badly, we can go now. get your shit together and let’s get out of here. i’ll be outside."
chaeyoung is left stricken, wide-eyed as she sees you storm out the door of the cabin and into the freezing cold, heaving out once reaching to the stump used to make firewood. tears are streaming down your face.
you fall to your knees that are met with the snow beneath and hang your head in shame.
the few days that come after that heated conversation are as tortuous as the first time you and chaeyoung meet.
you don’t even talk to chaeyoung. it should be relieving but it isn’t. when you and her walk, it’s in silence. when you sit near the fire to warm up, it’s quiet. when it’s time to get in the sheets of the mattress, it’s forced, but still silent. the cold aura is the same as the air around you.
everything stays the same however. you hunt for food and another place to set up camp while chaeyoung cooks and warms you with her magic whenever she can. the only big difference in the dynamic is the companionship; their fragile, tenuous truce—fruited with hope, once thick with craving—is now a searing rift. you and her are back to the start in all of this.
worse than, chaeyoung thinks, despairingly. now you can’t even look at me.
it’s another harsh freezing night. you are huddled over the fire, stroking the flame with the flimsy tin plate while chaeyoung is on the opposite end, shivering under the bundles of pelts, trying to encapsulate any warmth she could keep. normally, you would notice this and cuddle behind her, wrap your arms around her waist and have her back against your chest. but you don’t—the offering is no longer there anymore, and chaeyoung doesn’t even bother to ask.
once the fire is at a suitable height, you lean back and wrap your set of furs. chaeyoung is darting her eyes at you as you get your self comfy with the fabrics under your chin, eyes glowing in the flames and you turn over without even flashing a look at chaeyoung even once.
it’s no surprise or unexpected, but it stings. the feeling all the more present in its own right. chaeyoung bites her inner lip as tears sting the corners of her eyes. she wants to say something, a goodnight, to–to apologize, but the notion is near impossible to do. there’s nothing to be sorry about. she was right about everything that she said and she stands by it. she knows this. but still, the regret still lingers, chewing away inside her from the moments where the loneliness grows to great lengths, and now she’s wanting.
seemingly made fit of her to feel so.
“chaeyoung,” she blinks, startled once again, to find you looking over from the other side of the fire centered in the middle of you two, expression eerily blank. “you finished eating right?”
no, i couldn’t swallow anything that you made without wanting to throw it up in disgust.
“yes,” she whispers, nodding your head in acknowledgement before turning around again. chaeyoung listens to your breathing to be at a steady tempo before she allows herself the luxury of wallowing. once in the bed together, you were already fast asleep while chaeyoung cries into the wolf pelt that you made for her until she too falls asleep, restless and fitful from the growing pain within her.
a couple days pass, and you toss her a leg from a chicken to her for breakfast one morning, packing all of your supplies with a single goal in mind. you’ve grown antsy because you and chaeyoung were getting closer to a town nearby down the mountain range. the sea of trees slowly breaking and the wide river that was once frozen has traces of other campgrounds. it would only be a matter of time until they’ll be separated again. the knowledge lances through chaeyoung like an arrow to her chest. she can’t even fathom or build up the energy for guilt anymore.
the sun beams down in the highest point of the sky, warm on your faces, and when they run into an old woman. she’s on the way to the other end, holding a mailer’s bag that has herbs inside while she hobbles past. chaeyoung tenses up when she notices her, sensing that tie that’s binding the; that great power where they draw magic from.
but you were with her, and you might decide to be cautious on whether or not to sink your blade into this woman’s chest. blood on your face stained while chaeyoung watches and remembers the sights of—
that’s when the old woman looks up with a beaming smile.
“hello sister,” she says, walking over.” are you on the way to the nearby town?”
“i–uh—yes,” chaeyoung replies, “just me and my…”
she catches herself mid sentence, not sure of what to call you. wife? lover” dear god no—a sister? luckily for chaeyoung, the elder witch seemed to think something else otherwise.
“i’m assuming your wife?”
“yes!” chaeyoung says, taking your hand and sending you a pleading look. “my wife.”
beside her, you stand stiffly, tensing up to your shoulders, lips pressing to a pout and holding a breath while you grip chaeyoung’s hand tightly. to her surprise, you were actually more afraid than menacing.
“you girls look beautiful together! so when was the wedding?”
“about a month and a half ago,” chaeyoung replies softly.
the old witch gasps with delight. “that’s so wonderful! here, a small present for two.”
she reaches into her bag to pull out a fresh, purple lily. chaeyoung tries to turn her down, thankful for the kindness, but she’s insisting, shoving the small band of flowers into her hands. then she turns to you.
“you have a lovely, young bride. make sure you treat her well.”
“don’t worry,” you say, “i will. i plan to for as long as she’ll let me.”
there’s a damming glint of honesty behind that phrase almost revealing the whole act, but it sends tears to the eyes all the same. the old woman smiles and pats chaeyoung’s cheek.
“she’s a good one. you two behave now, alright?”
chaeyoung nods, laughing at the elder’s joke. she’s afraid she’ll stop crying if she stops.
just before the elder witch leaves, she points you and chaeyoung into the direction of the nearest town—about a mile and a half off and continues her walk up the mountain, waving goodbye in the distance. for a quick second, chaeyoung still has the fear that you would hunt her down and chuck an arrow into her back, but you don’t. you simply just continue forward, and it should be expected for you to act like a sensible humaning behind instead of a cult member—but this meant the world to chaeyoung.
while you walk forward with all of the belongings from the cabin on your back, chaeyoung sniffles just behind without you knowing, wiping away her burdening tears before tailing you on the trek to the town. you pause to allow her to catch up to you.
that said town that the elder witch pointed out. you are frozen solid as you lead chaeyoung through the busy streets, grip on her wrist tightening by the second enough to keep her from being overwhelmed by the new sights and sounds. once you two reach an inn, you get a room for the night, guiding her through the second floor to the room near the end of the complex.
unlocking the door, prompting chaeyoung to step inside and you follow after her. a soft click sounds off from the door shutting behind, but the sound sounds more scary much like a scream. the silence that fallos over them feels poignant, but dangerous like an icy chasm.
“i’ll go get a fire started,” you say, stepping towards the hearth set next to the kitchen counters.
chaeyoung takes a look around the big room, the large single bed and the draping curtains, grasping desperately for a distraction, but it’s hypnotic like getting lost in the smoky mist. she sits herself on the edge of the bed, palms against the bed frame, feeling the better sturdiness compared to the mattress back at the cabin. it’s softer than the one they used to sleep on, but still unappealing.
she knows that you would probably offer to take the bed and have you sleep on the floor, rather use your furs instead of sleeping next to her, the loneliness becoming more expansive before you or her even say anything.
the separation was necessary, and she knows this. it would be better for you to go your own way and meet up with the other hunters and for chaeyoung to build a new life, to heal and help others, but—
even though it might be the right thing to do, it hurts. a ferocity that’s paining her, she doesn’t want you to leave. the idea of saying goodbye, parting from you like the last month had never happened, stabs her through the gut. after everything she’s been through, the losses and suffering, it was too much to bear.
chaeyoung lingers on the bed, you knelt in front of the fireplace, shoulders hunched over. quietly, it almost breaks the silence that’s persistent but she could hear you.
“i’m sorry.” you say.
her heart jumps to her throat. she snaps to face you. “what?”
“i’m sorry,” you say again, stronger, and you also turn around. you look absolutely wrecked. “i’m sorry, chaeyoung. i’m sorry for hurting you. i’m sorry for ruining your life. i’m sorry for—for destroying your village and killing all of your loved ones. i–i’m just—i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”
chaeyoung can’t even believe the waves of emotion that eclipses over her: the potent mix of rage and grief, stomach boiling with just pure unjust—heart wrenching sorrow. before she could even compose herself, she breaks into tears, sinking back into the mattress, wailing into her hands. you immediately crawl over to her.
you grab her knees, opening them apart, pleading eyes gleaming up with hers. “i’m so sorry. the words that i’m saying aren’t enough to say it wholeheartedly, but i am. i am.”
“why?” she sobs out through her hands. “why are you—?”
“because the idea of you leaving here is impossible for me to bear without knowing what i feel.” you take her hands away from her face, intertwining your fingers with her. “and— because i love you, chaeyoung. that’s been the truth for me for so long now.”
“y/n—”
“i won’t lie anymore. there’s so much about everything that i’ve been taught that’s been confusing me.” you start off with breaths becoming more and more shakier. “i’ve been trained all my life to kill people like you since i was twelve, and more than that, i’ve been beaten down to the point where i’m supposed to hate you. there’s still so much anger inside me that i don’t even know what to do with it, but…i’m trying. i’m willing to try. i want to be so much better than this.”
chaeyoung shakes her head, overwhelmed with the second confession, and you bury your face into her lap, fingers clinging to her skirt.
“and if you want to turn me down that’s fine with me too,” you say, the wrecked expression still wearing on your face. “i’ll-i–i’ll accept it. i’ll give you whatever you need in order to get by in this town and then i’ll just—”
she shushes you, lifting your head from her knees, sliding her palms over your cheeks. she’s staring down at you, the wet, colorful eyes and the stream marks from the tears slipping down to the midpoint of your cheek and chin. you have the face of a murderer. she’s seen it all. she’s seen what your hands look like when it’s riddled with blood, regardless of who or what it may be, and she despise you for now profoundly you can hate what you don’t understand, but yet—
the daunting fact, or realization of that matter was the point that she loves you too. chaeyoung loves you. you. she loves you despite the facts; she loves you because of it. it wasn’t the airy, light feeling that she’s heard from the older sisters back at the village. it’s deep and she’s being sucked down into it, clawing and twisting, maiming from within with so much force.
but love is hopeful. love is hopeful. loving you will always feel like taking a leap of faith.
and chaeyoung lets it all fall down.
she slides off the bed and into your lap, straddling you, cupping your face and wiping away the tears that are dried on your cheeks.
“this may be the one decision that i will ever make in my life, but i love you. i hate myself for feeling like this, but i do, and i think a part of me will always resent you for what you did, but–” a deep breath, shuddering her vocal chords and leans in to your angled jaw with her temple. “if i have to try every passing day to forgive you in order to love you then i might just have to do so. i think i can do that.”
“do you really mean–” you utter, the words are coming out of your mouth so fast they’re almost jumbled into one run on sentence. “you mean like actually—”
“i love you y/n,” she breathes out. “i do, i do, and i do.”
you bind an arm around her waist, crushing her towards you, kissing her desperately. chaeyoung meets you with the same fevored energy, burying her fingers into your hair to bring you closer, and closer, much more closer. tears dripping against her face and she’s kissing them away, the salt coating her tongue. “i love you,” whispering against your skin.
a broken sob breaks out from you, sliding your hands down to her thighs. you’re lifting chaeyoung, pressing her back to the rug beneath you, the light emitting from the fireplace, and you lower yourself, settling between her open legs. chaeyoung wraps them around your waist, hungry for the weight of you against her; frantically inviting you in; you can never be closer enough.
your lips break away from hers to track more open-mouthed kisses down her face, to her neck, lingering over her pulse. the hard suck pulling a squeaked whimper from her before soothing it with the wide of your tongue. the rolling heat sinks down more and more; chaeyoung is getting twitchy; the burn of arousal consuming her.
she’s all too familiar with it now. she knows that eagerness that’s growing within and she’s too embarrassed to admit this, but she’s fantasized about this sometimes while trekking down the mountains. chaeyoung imagined your mouth, the stretch of your fingers inside her, your tongue. she wants more of you, all to be deflowered at the touches you offer.
so she raises her hips to your thigh, grinding her core against her leg as she presses her mouth against your ear. “i need you,” she whispers out. it’s everything that you needed to hear out of her.
sighing out in response, you crush chaeyoung more into the rug on the floor with so much excitement. rucking up the nightgown and helping her, raising her arms to rip it off before tossing her on the bed again. the hitched breath with a hint of a moan once her body meets the mattress. your hands find her breasts, chaeyoung hissing at the sensation of your roughened palms against the hard buds of her nipples, massaging them, testing the perkiness of how petite they were.
your eyes were hooded, a twinkle sparkling through at the sight of her flushed cheeks at your touch. “can i-”
chaeyoung looks away, biting her lip at the notion that you were aiming towards. “well, yes.”
without thinking twice, you dive for her breast, kissing the ample flesh before enveloping a bud into your mouth. chaeyoung gasps sharply when you lave your tongue over it, the other hand continuing to feel the unoccupied mound. she’s searching for friction, and she’s not satisfied enough when your knee nudges against her clit. she moans loudly this time, insisting for more.
spurred by this desperation, you lift your lips from her breast with a chaste kiss before kissing down her stomach. chaeyoung knows that you’re planning and tries pulling you back up to her face, the impatience breaking through, but you hush her, the smile indulging at what she wants, what she needs. “let me have your cunt first, baby beast. i want you to be ready.”
you spread her legs, fingers parting her lips before licking up her core. the broad strip that ends at her throbbing pussy. she’s sobbing again, thighs tensing around your head as you drink her up mercilessly, head thrashing against the pillows. she is too ready for you, all riled up, so when you brush your mouth at her core again, she lets out a strangled cry, whining while she’s nearly ripping the hair off from your scalp.
the fingers haven’t even come into play yet, and she’s already on her first high. by the end of that, her legs are shaking, and she’s reduced to nothing more but mush. once you retreat your mouth from the swollen pussy, chaeyoung is whimpering at the loss of the stimulating feeling that you gave her, placing another kiss on her inner thigh.
she’s reaching for you, not meeting your eyes and her face is still flushed out. you kiss her palm, “i’m not going anywhere, my love,” you say, taking off your top and bra. chaeyoung sighs out when you fall back to her, fingers slipping against her entrance again, teasing her. the greedy entrance of her slick soaking your fingertips. she’s grasping your shoulder, silently pleading with her eyes from the fireplace, and you laugh–a small thing, but broken.
“fuck me chaeyoung,” you gasp, thumb pressing her clit lightly to let out another hitched moan from her lips, biting the inner part of her mouth. “i planned on—you said you were gonna leave me.”
her hands find your face again, and she kisses you, slowly and with so much passion. once she breaks away from you, she whispers, “i can’t.” not ever.
your gaze softens at the sight of her, sweet as sugar, and you slip inside her. chaeyoung’s breath hitches at the contact, fear tickling at the base of her throat, but you increase the quantity and it’s all the way.
the stretch of your fingers inside chaeyoung stings, but you’ve prepared her for it well. the slicked entrance makes it good, and it’s all too easy. it’s giving in much more than you initially thought. every knuckle reaches and you’re pushing, not faltering. within just a few seconds, she’s flushed at your fingers, sheathing themselves all the way inside, curling her g-spot. she clutches at you, moved by the same feeling from that one night, the sensation so familiar but new that she almost starts to tear up again.
mouth is parted, your eyes are lidded. chaeyoung is gasping at the sparks of pleasure that is searing at her gut and she’s increasing her grip on your. “please,” she whispers, bucking her hips at the hand inside her. “give me more, please.”
destroyed in rapture at the sight of chaeyoung’s lip parted open, head doubled back on pace from your thrusting hand, it drove you even more. you’re kissing into her neck, sucking away, harshly kissing again as your free hand trails over to her breast again, massaging the mound to add more to the already present wreckage that chaeyoung is going through.
“you feel so good around my fingers,” you growl out, another snap sharpened from the lips. “so tight. god what you do to me is sinful, baby beast.”
“like this–” she sobs out. “i want to be like this for you” she says fully, a laugh coming out of you that sounds like a trembling rumble that could strike her all the way down to her curled toes.
chaeyoung is still clinging at you, keening as you continue to pound her. in between sucks on her neck, you’re saying nonsense, calling her your sweet girl, my precious one: “my little wife and her pretty, wet cunt.”
the legs are clamping around your hand, the strokes becoming more and more jerkier, you’re seeking it out, pressing a thumb to her clit again, teasing to get the release faster, chuckling when she’s whining in protest. you’re rubbing a circle in addition to your thrusting fingers, and chaeyoung is biting back a shout, reading up as the rope in her gut is starting to tighten, contracting on the near edge of release. you’re trying to part her clenched legs.
you’re growling again, much more ferocity now. “you need it?”
“yes,” she whsipsers, eyes clenched shut. “yes, yes, yes, yes—”
with a pinch of a clit with your thumb and forefinger, chaeyoung is spazzing out, biting back a scream that would still be let out for the neighboring guests to hear, trembling. you’re still working her cunt with four fingers inside, the grip nearly strong enough to break your fingers, biting her inner thigh until she calms down at your touch, the pace slowly dissipating.
you slide your fingers out, crawling over to chaeyoung’s side before collapsing on top of her, the weight almost crushing, but it’s welcoming, wrapping her arms around your neck. she’s kissing thetop of your head. “i love you.”
“and i love you too,” you pant out, tapping her shoulder. “but i’d hate to get you worked up so soon after hearing that, baby beast.”
chaeyoung lets you roll off her body, slowly, before turning on her side to face you. the soreness creeping through as the flickering glow of the fireplace sets shadows against the planes of your toned frame, the hard muscles and turns your skin to a golden bronze, radiating like the sun.
she’s smiling at you, brushing her thumb against your sweaty cheek. “my sun,” she whispers out.
you take her hand after, “my wife.”
tears are flooding her eyes, streaming down to her cheeks, but you caress her before kissing the stained stream away. when you pull back, chaeyoung is also happy to find that you were crying too.
“what’s on your mind?” you ask her.
you, chaeyoung thinks. this is insanity to every definition. all preposterous to every front.
but she doesn’t want to ruin the air with her worries, so she answers, “you think the other guests would mind after what we just did? or do you want me to have my turn at you now?”
you blink at her, stunned, before lying on your back which gives chaeyoung an opportunity to slide on top of you. kissing away at your body to find all of the spots possible to get your buttons going. you roll over with her between your arms, smothering her lips with another kiss from yours.
“i could give less of a fuck if we get a noise warning this late at night.” you say, and chaeyoung is laughing against your mouth.
“make sure your eyes are closed, okay?”
“y/n, your hands are over them.”
“but that doesn’t mean that you can’t keep them closed. oh shoot—wait, wait hold on.”
chaeyoung squeals, startled, when she feels your hands slide behind her back and knees, binding her up against you carrying bridal-style. she hears the sound of a swinging door open and your voice, flush against her ear with a smile breaking through saying, “okay, baby beast. you can open them now.”
so she does and gasps immediately with awe, clinging to you while you put her back to the ground. her eyes are flickering with awe over the kitchen, the large hearth, the furniture, it’s all spread around the open space. she turns back to you and kisses you, hard, keeping her arms wrapped around your neck.
“you did all of this?” she breathes out, “but where did you—”
“of course,” you say, too satisfied. “i managed to buy some of the pieces from a couple of sellers, but most of the other stuff is from me.”
“oh. was it too much to buy in the first place?”
“no, not really. remember that i have a little bit of cash to spend.”
chaeyoung nods, taking care to not mention how you managed to get that kind of money, tugging your hands along the open space. “show me the rooms.”
you grin, taking her hand and leading her down the spacious hallway. you open a door and lead chaeyoung inside, the smile more apparent now when you hear her gasp again. a large bed sits against the wall, the headboard made of metal sprawling, thick roots that may look like they come from a tree. there’s a sitting nightstand with a neighboring drawer in the same corner. chaeyoung stumbles back on your chest, hand over her throat. “i-i don’t know what to say.”
“do you like it?” you whisper against her ear.
“i do. i do. you know that i do.”
“we have two other spare bedrooms.” you say, kissing the curve of her jaw. “maybe we can put them to good use.”
“what are you thinking of?”
you hum at the sight of the unoccupied bed, lips pressed against as you bury your chin on chaeyoung’s shoulder.
“we can always move stuff around, but i’ve been thinking about helping.”
“helping with what?”
“there’s a building here around town that is helping with those who have been ripped away from their families, orphans.” you say. “some of them have the potential to create magic i heard.”
“but don’t you want to have someone that’s able to hunt?”
chaeyoung turns towards you, smiling into the kiss again while your hands are tied at the endpoint of her back. “you did say i wanted to teach someone my magic.”
“so you want to adopt?”
chaeyoung hums, considering the plausible offer you presented. “let’s adopt. it’s always better when there’s another besides the two of us.”
you grin with triumph before lifting chaeyoung again, tossing her to the bed. she’s laughing, accepting your weight easily as you press her deep into the mattress, blooming like a lovely flower.
love. love is powerful. it can change someone in ways that no one would expect.
devotion. the pledge for a cause that’s unwavering and has a similar meaning to love.
sin. it’s damming, but you’ve committed worser crimes in your lifetime that will get you to that warm home of hell eventually.
loving chaeyoung, doesn’t feel like a sin at all.
More Posts from Hwabyul4wheesun and Others
Fuck man this was just beautiful, such a great read
it isn't living if you're not with me
hirai momo x fem!reader
summary: you look exactly like the music you play: heavy beats and low bass lines and a voice that sounds like a caution sign. your black hair's up in a ponytail, side shave visible on the right, your ripped jeans disappearing into doc martens. your piercings are similar to jihyo's; there's the industrial bar, two or three on your lobes, an orbital, a helix. your shirt's white, half-tucked into your jeans, with the word boys on it framed by the black outline of two hands raising the middle finger.
i figured out what i believe in, momo says.
music? you ask.
you.
tags: pop punk/punk rock!au ; fluff ; smut ; pieces of mihyo ; brief mentions of minsung (skz) ; almost everyone has a piercing of some sort :) ; momo has a dragon tattoo ; drinking ; cursing ; not proofread!!! + anything else i've missed
author's note: hallo
it's something simple, inconsequential. the two of you meet at a festival, headlining the main stage on different days. momo's band plays on friday. yours is saturday. there isn't much else to do aside from drink and watch the other artists perform; it's a bad medley, if she's being honest.
friday night is loud, frantic, pulsing. the beats synthesize like something born in a lab. jihyo's high notes on the keys and dahyun's steady drumline combine into the reminiscence of a time none of them were alive for. it's like if the 80's aesthetic were drenched in apathetic millennial existentialism, mina always says with a grin; and, well, the lesbians love it.
momo sings; most of the crowd follows her. she can only see as far as directly in front of the stage when the lights are on. the ball of her tongue piercing presses against the roof of her mouth. there's only one face she recognizes.
you're off to the side with your band's drummer, singing along. the two of you are both bobbing your heads, pausing to talk and laugh occasionally. you both must've used your passes for vip access. momo's nerves flare underneath her skin, opening, touch starved. you stare directly at her with your lips curled. you know every single word to every single song, though you sometimes seem distracted by momo's fingers on her guitar.
you stay until the end. the lights dim and drop; momo hands a stagehand her instrument, starts unwiring herself. the crowd thunders outside, cheering. momo thinks of your mouth shaping into an o, whistling.
"what's the rush?" jihyo asks, tightening her ponytail, hand slipping down to her industrial.
"hot date," dahyun supplies with a wink, ripping off her sweatband.
"y/n y/l/n," momo says shortly, ducking behind a stage technician and heading for the door.
the crowd's somewhat dispersed, idling. the patches of dirt stick out against the grass, littered with trash. momo glances around the pit. you're gone.
momo's only a little drunk by saturday night. jihyo a bit more so, and tzuyu not at all. they're following a man with a shirt that says event staff around the perimeter of the main stage.
"she's on in ten," tzuyu says, checking her phone for the time. "nice of her to watch us yesterday."
"she knew our songs," momo says distractedly, following their security escort through a roped-off area of the grass. "you don't have to come if you don't want to."
"i want to get a good look at her," jihyo says, fiddling with her piercing again. "what if i'm her type?"
momo tosses an amused glance back, eyes her torn-up black tights, her high boots, her loose, long black dress, her necklace. "you aren't."
"how do you know?"
"because i'm her type."
jihyo harrumphs under her breath. "you're conceited," she says, slipping through the front gate to the vip area. "that's what you are."
"maybe." momo looks at the others in the pit with them; a few people she recognizes by face only, from bands she can't name. "you thought i was your type for a while."
"i was new at this," jihyo says offhandedly. "you're hot and gay. unfortunately, your personality—"
momo laughs, leaning against the bars as the lights dim. "right."
you look exactly like the music you play: heavy beats and low bass lines and a voice that sounds like a caution sign. your black hair's up in a ponytail, side shave visible on the right, your ripped jeans disappearing into doc martens. your piercings are similar to jihyo's; there's the industrial bar, two or three on your lobes, an orbital, a helix. your shirt's white, half-tucked into your jeans, with the word boys on it framed by the black outline of two hands raising the middle finger.
"ugh," jihyo says boredly from behind her. "you are her type."
you stumble off stage, laughing with your band. the lead guitarist, a guy whose name momo thinks is minho, has his arm around you. you stop when you see momo standing there, shoving him off of you. minho's too wired up, following your keyboardist off into the back, barely noticing you're not with them.
you're smaller in person than momo'd thought you'd be, despite your boots — they have a higher, thicker heel than momo's do, giving you an extra inch or two. you're probably about five-six or seven compared to momo's five-nine. you're beautiful, magnetizing. you entirely deserve the screaming crowed beckoning you back to stage.
"hey," momo greets.
"hi," you say, tongue darting across your upper lip. "you're momo. hirai momo. from wallflower."
"you're y/n. y/n y/l/n. from alien."
you grin. you're still covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the show but you're not self-conscious about it. "did you actually know that, or did you hear us introduce ourselves?"
"i saw you at our show yesterday." momo takes a step closer, hands tucked casually in her pockets. "i came out tonight to hear you play."
"is that right," you say, not like a question. "just to hear us play?"
"not 'us'," momo says. "you."
you raise an eyebrow, tonguing your lip piercing. your eyes drop interestedly to the full length of momo's tattoo, a dragon winding all the way up her arm before disappearing into her muscle tee, black with a large white xxx written across the center. the stage crew move around you both, busy and unbothered. the two of you are both too contained and nothing.
"i love your music," you say after a pause.
"i know," momo answers, hinting to arrogance. "that's why i'm here."
your smile quirks again. "oh," you say, understanding the insinuation. "that's why you're here."
momo shrugs, stepping even closer. "i'm your type."
"you are," you agree. you slip a finger through momo's belt loop, tugging her in slightly, examining her subtly, appreciatively as you do so. you lean up on your toes, lips hovering above momo's, and murmur, "but i'm not that easy."
momo's mouth curls aloofly, smirk almost detached. there's a trap here, somewhere. there's a path to undress. the challenge says kiss me anyway, it's what i want. but she's learned a few of her own lessons.
"oh, i didn't think you were," she says. "i just thought it was about time we got acquainted."
she wraps her fingers around your wrist, gently loosens her grip, lets your arms drop separately. you only still, cataloging her movements, motions. the two of you are both so contradictory to your words.
"i'll see you around, y/l/n," momo says lightly, sirens of an undertone. you sense the storm.
"until the next one," you answer, watching her leave.
"you didn't even kiss her," jihyo drawls on the bus as she cracks open a beer. "have you lost your touch?"
momo rolls her eyes, boots kicked up on the arm of the sofa. "i purposely didn't kiss her, princess."
"semantics," jihyo waves away. mina chuckles harmlessly from where she's sitting on the opposite couch.
"look," momo says, scrolling through twitter aimlessly, "just because you aren't getting laid doesn't mean you need to be bitter that i'm about to be."
"oh, ouch," tzuyu calls, snickering all the way from the front seat. jihyo shoots her a dirty look, harrumphing.
"easy for you to laugh at," jihyo says. "you don't even like sex."
momo doesn't have to see her face to know the expression she's pulling. "it's not my thing," tzuyu says, indifference evident.
"whatever." jihyo tosses her hair over her shoulder, tucking it behind her ear. "i could get laid if i wanted to."
"oh, yeah?" momo asks, feet thumping against the floor as she lowers them. "prove it."
she stares jihyo down, realizing after she possibly should've thought this through; jihyo never backs away from a challenge, like it's composed of hooks that dig in. she rubs a finger over her industrial automatically, clearly thinking, until her eyes narrow, smile spreading sharp.
she rests her bottle back on the counter, steps around it towards momo, holds her gaze even as she angles her body towards mina until the last possible second. mina looks up at her, surprised without confusion, phone falling to the side.
it's almost as if jihyo sizes her up for a moment — takes in her thighs showing through the rips in her jeans, her loose burgundy tank top slit down the sides, her black bra visible underneath — and then she bends over, cups mina's face in her hands, and kisses her.
momo's eyes feel too big for her skull, her jaw hanging off hinges; mina freezes for less time than momo expects before her hands spread against jihyo's hips, nudging her closer, and jihyo straddles her lap, fingers brushing through mina's undercut above the back of her neck. momo watches mina's mouth open a little too widely, sees how jihyo sinks dangerously low.
"are you fucking serious?" momo asks bluntly after a solid minute.
jihyo breaks the kiss, smirks brazenly, and slides off of mina's lap in an oddly graceful manner. mina, to her credit, is more stunned than anything, as if her brain's barely finished processing the situation. her lips are smeared red.
"i can get laid if i want to," jihyo says again, slowly, and runs a finger around her mouth, wiping away her lipstick. she walks back around the counter and reaches for her beer.
it's hard to get a moment alone, but they manage. it's midnight and they're standing outside a mcdonald's at a rest stop off of highway 10, passing a joint between them. the night's warm but momo likes the feeling of the heat sinking into your leather jacket.
she says, “you and jihyo, huh.”
mina exhales, head tilting back. “i suppose so.”
“you were into it.”
“i know.”
momo presses her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “you’ve been into it before, haven’t you?”
mina grins in amusement, still staring at the dark sky. “yeah,” she admits guiltlessly. “i slept with her a few weeks ago.”
momo's eyebrows shoot up. the tip of the joint lights, stutters. her lungs are too big for the cage they're contained in. "you slept with her?"
"yeah," she says like it's nothing, shrugs. "she said i needed to relax, and that it'd been too long since i dumped my ex to count as an excuse any longer." she pauses, brushes her fingers against her undercut, the short bristles of hair. "she made some good points."
the insinuation speaks for itself. "i bet she did."
"whatever." she takes the joint from momo, brings it to her lips. "it seemed like a good idea, at the time."
"doesn't it always," momo says, and laughs after, finally settling against the idea with the smoke. it's strange; not because they don't work together, but because they do. "you and jihyo."
"she's— you know," mina says, glancing towards the bus. "she's so... hot-headed and stubborn. i think it's kind of cute."
"well, don't ask me to sing at the wedding."
she shoves momo's arm, laughing with her. "shut up."
it's a friday a week later when your tour paths cross. the two of you are playing separate venues on the same night, but your show ends an hour after hers. it's perfect.
jihyo tags along again, this time with her arm looped through mina's, fitting against her side. mina's hair is up in a high, messy bun, crisscrossing pattern visible above her neck, eyebrow piercing sharper than the look she gives jihyo when she thinks momo isn't watching. jihyo's dress is grey and falls rippling down her body, barely covers her ass under ragged black tights, wearing haughtiness the same way she'd lined her lips with a dark garnet. well, what's the harm in playing parts.
they're seated upstairs at a private table with bottle service. they only catch the last three songs and the encore, but the encore is momo's favorite, anyway, and jihyo and mina seem content doing shots and snickering behind their hands, leaning in to whisper. you look good, like you always do, with your hair pinned over your left shoulder and white short-sleeve button-up untucked from your tight maroon jeans, blending into higher boots than you'd worn previously. you hold the microphone with both hands in between your bass lines. momo imagines what they'd feel like wrapped around her neck.
"i know that look," jihyo says from mina's lap, smirking arrogantly.
"admiration," momo says shortly.
"lust," jihyo mimics in the same tone of voice.
"now's your chance," mina says, her arms around jihyo's waist. "go corner her in a dressing room or something."
momo slips off the stool, heads for the stairs. "thanks," she says dryly, because she's not about to actually take advice from two girls who got bored and decided they found the other kind of hot.
the bouncer doesn't recognize her, but your personal bodyguard does, and he gestures her up with a nod. "she's the first door on the right," he says, unconcerned, and momo thanks him with a smile.
she knocks on the door twice. the wood's painted black and chipped in a few places, and the knob's tarnished, dull. you call, "come in," and momo doesn't wait to be told again. there's nothing to with hesitation.
"hey," she says, slipping into the room like she belongs there. she kind of does. she belongs wherever you are.
you're toweling off your face but drop it at the sound of momo's voice, hair swinging over your shoulder. you stare, mouth slowly unfurling at the corners, the pages of a book. "hey."
"our show ended earlier," momo answers the unspoken question. she leaves her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket. "thought i'd stop by."
your eyes roam blatantly up and down her body, teeth dragging your bottom lip into your mouth. "just in the neighborhood?"
"yeah, actually."
"you look good," you say bluntly. her skin is copper-wired, conductive.
momo half-smirks, a cross between a summon and a calling. "i look even better up-close."
you grin, extending a hand. the show's over; you're running out of things to put on. "well," you say, "make your case."
momo slips her fingers past your palm, up your wrist, stroking the inside of it lightly. "how about," she says instead, "you let me buy you a drink."
you hum, stepping in, your other hand resting against the outside of momo's jacket. "why?"
"because," momo says, voice like the dulcet, low lines of a bass, "you aren't that easy."
jihyo isn't drunk. "i'm not drunk," she tells mina, trying desperately to hide her slur.
"sure, baby," mina says mildly, glancing down as her phone lights up with a text. it's only dahyun, asking where they are. her arms stay loose around jihyo's waist. "i'll let you have that."
"maybe you're drunk," jihyo says, tilting her neck and looking at her through fluttering eyelashes.
"maybe," mina agrees seriously, and jihyo breaks and laughs. "that's what happens when you do five shots in an hour."
she wiggles slightly, and mina spreads her legs, allowing jihyo to slip back to the floor. she turns and faces her, sliding her fingers around the back of mina's neck, scratching through the short, soft hair.
"remember when i thought momo was my type?" she says, grimacing at the concept. she's no good with a poker face; it's endearing when it isn't inconvenient.
mina mirrors her oppositely, grinning. "yes."
"i only realized she wasn't," jihyo says, "when i realized you were."
"that's cute," mina says, lips stretching wider. "are you propositioning me?"
jihyo reaches up, brushes her thumb over mina's eyebrow, rolling the ball, hand dropping down to her cheek. mina only watches in amusement and adoration, less hidden than she'd like to be. there's something about the devil and his girl friday — no, wait, she's mixing up her references — but jihyo stands on her toes and drags mina's mouth to hers, and the devil's definitely in there somewhere.
the crowd's filtered out, hogging the merch table up front. momo leads you back up the stairs, keeping your fingers linked. jihyo and mina are marking out at the table momo'd left them at. momo rolls her eyes; she can't leave them alone for five minutes, literally.
you laugh. "oh, really?" you say, delighted.
"it's a secret thing," momo explains, passing them up for the bar. "i don't know. i'm not getting involved."
"that's probably wise." you slip onto a stool, tucking your chin against your palm, elbow on the counter. "minho and han have a thing like that, but it's none of my business."
"han's your rhythm guitarist, right?"
"yeah." you untangle your fingers, resting your now-free hand against momo's knee. "i'll have a whiskey sour," you say to the bartender.
"tequila sunrise," momo says.
"so, this is your plan?" you ask, stretching out a boot to rest on the rung of momo's stool. "get me drunk and seduce me?"
momo snickers a little breathlessly, caught off-guard. "no," she says. "i'm just here to talk."
"oh, really," you say again, leaning closer to her, eyes narrowing playfully. "so, you've got an end goal."
"don't you?"
"well, sure," you say, taking your drink with a smile and lifting it to your lips. "i think they're two sides of the same coin."
"working for it and making me work for it?" momo guesses wryly, the flirtatious arch of her eyebrow. she wraps her mouth around her straw. your gaze drops interestedly.
"you did your tongue?" you breathe out, letting your arm fall to the wood. "oh, that's hot."
"talk, y/l/n," momo enunciates, picking up your jaw.
momo gets her way; you keep your attention held to passive things for the most part. there's the tour, that's one. the way all roads feel endless and none of them lead home, if home ever existed to begin with. there's your influences, inspirations. momo's mom abandoned her, and it's something she'll never sing about. your parents raised you as an activist, music's your kind of rebellion.
"that's what drew me to punk rock," you're saying. your glass is empty. "fuck it all, really, but believe in something."
momo smiles genuinely; your words are too passionate to disregard. "what if i don't know what i believe in yet?"
you flutter your eyelashes, mouth like a cathedral. "i could probably help you with that," you purr, trailing your index finger along the side of momo's hand, but crack and laugh. you're trying to be too many things at once.
"it was a good attempt," momo says teasingly.
you roll your eyes with a grin but move on. "besides," you say, "you believe in music, don't you?"
"yeah," momo says, mildly surprised. "yeah, i guess i do."
jihyo stumbles over twenty minutes later, leaning her chin on momo's shoulder with a harrumph. "oh, it's you," she says somewhat rudely to you, mina's hands settling on her waist. "you know, momo hasn't kissed you yet."
"i'm aware," you say, holding back a laugh. momo only downs the rest of her drink.
"it means she likes you," jihyo reveals devilishly, straightening up. "otherwise she would've just done it."
"is that so," you say, tongue rolling your lip piercing thoughtfully, throwing momo a look.
"yeah," momo says, shrugging.
"huh."
"yep."
"wow."
"shut up," jihyo interrupts crossly, mina laughing behind her. "just fuck already."
"no," momo says. "get out of here."
mina pends down, whispering something against the shell of jihyo's ear, who raises a single eyebrow carefully and curls up the corner of her lip. "okay," jihyo says serenely (drunkenly). "we're leaving. nice meeting you, y/n. sorry that you're doomed or whatever."
"doomed?" you repeat, your straight face finally breaking; somehow you find jihyo funny rather than annoying.
"oh, please," jihyo says loftily, still slurring her words. "momo's so your type. walking up to the two of you talking or whatever was like— you know when you open a dryer, and it's just like, hot air? that's you. it's hot over here. you want each other."
"are you sure that's not just the two of you?" momo asks, but she's smirking at the mess of a description.
"no," mina finally chimes in. "we're getting laid, thanks. tension's gone."
jihyo laughs, tugging her away towards the exit; you snicker under your breath. it's dim and empty; even the bartender's wrapping up. you say, "is it nice to have a friend so worried about your sex life?"
"jesus," momo says. "no. it's not. my sex life is fine."
"is it?" you ask, chin back in your palm.
"well, when you put it like that," momo says, understanding implications, "it's lacking. what about yours?"
"could be better," you say. "but i think we'll have that for our next date."
your next date is at a burger king on a rest stop off of route six. your buses overlap. it's three in the morning and there are no motels. besides, dahyun says, i really want a whopper.
the night's a little cooler; you are all a little further north. you're wearing sweats and a t-shirt; momo's in shorts and a hoodie. you smile when you see her, gesturing her over with a crook of your finger. she spies the blue of han's hair inside, minho's blond gleaming next to him.
"hey," you say acutely. "should've known you'd be here."
"i'm stalking you," momo says.
"clearly."
"we're in the middle of nowhere," she says. "want me to buy you a milkshake?"
"sure," you say, charmed. "chocolate."
the two of you open the door and step up to the counter; your drummer stares knives into her back the entire time. she doesn't give it weight. she says to the cashier, "a large milkshake. chocolate. thanks."
the man takes her money boredly, gives her the change and proceeds to make it himself. momo grabs two straws; she thinks you blush, but the interior is so drenched in bright colors that she can't be sure of anything.
the two of you walk back outside, strolling around the building leisurely until you both are facing the highway, watching the occasional car fly by. the two of you struggle to drink at the same time, giggling when your noses brush, when you both meet each other's eyes too close and cross.
"i'm going to write a song about you." momo says, because you're somehow just as attractive in your pajamas with a bare face; your lip piercing's out and your hair is up in a loose ponytail. "just so you know."
you release the straw, looking up at her from under your eyelashes, smiling. momo takes the cup, sets it on a groove in the wall by the window, and leans in, capturing your lips. they're cold and you taste like the shake, but she laughs into it, your fingers curving around momo's jaw. momo pulls away slightly, letting the moment breathe, but you chase her mouth, kissing her again, again, and again. momo's arms rest loosely around your waist.
"god," you say, and even your eyes are bright. "maybe i should've just let you do this from the beginning."
you actually write the song first, something momo only finds out when she crashes one of your shows two weeks later. it's thursday night; momo's band doesn't take the stage until friday. you stand at the mic with your bass hanging and you look like heaven, like hell; your pants are leather, and your boots have gold spikes on them. you've changed your lip ring to a barbell. you're like a succubus, sucking out the soul of every other demon in the room, or at least whatever's left.
she finds them easily in the crowd; it's impossible to overlook jihyo's red hair, even when she's wrapped up in mina. they'd insisted on coming; tzuyu's behind them, taking pictures with dahyun to add to her instastory. you slip off the stage with the mic during the bridge of a sogn you don't need to play for and rest an arm around momo's shoulders over the barricade, singing directly to her with a smirk. your voice beckons like a tide, magnetic and ungrounding.
the song, though — the song comes one before the end of the show, when you say casually, "so, i met a girl recently, and she told me she was writing me a song." there's process, and then wild, incoherent screaming. "i didn't tell her i'd already beat her to it. hopefully she likes it."
jihyo shoves her in the back, smirking, as if momo had somehow missed the memo. tzuyu goes, "oooh," and dahyun records her face when the opening notes play. it's sultry but strangely upbeat; it's a feeling and a concept more than it is a simple song — the lyrics are all suggestive and make momo's head spin: oh, it's not about the long and winding road, it's all about my bed and the imprint of your soul — momo wants to dance to it, wants to kiss you to it, wants to soak in it until she drowns.
the band traipses off-stage. momo's already in the wings, smirking. the crowd screams and thunders and storms. you're sweaty and thrumming and your eyes look like flakes of gold under the light. you kiss momo with a smile, one arm around her neck, the other flung carelessly over her shoulder.
"you," momo says.
"what'd you think?" you ask cheekily.
momo grins, steps out of your arms, brushing by all of them onto the stage; you only watch behind her, entertained despite the stagehands' sudden spike in nervousness. the lights flicker on, dim; the crowd is momentarily confused, but starts to scream louder, most of them recognizing her. well, your audiences tend to overlap.
"in case you were wondering," momo says into the mic, "i loved the song," and somehow the only sound she hears is your laughter to the left.
"you're so gay," jihyo says to you both, pulling a face from where she's sitting in mina's lap. you all are on the rooftop bar of your hotel, rented out for the night. minho and dahyun are playing some kind of drinking game in the pool, which the staff — and han — are eyeing cautiously.
"you're one to talk," you shoot back, breaking away from momo's mouth long enough to respond. "last time i saw the two of you, mina was pretty much wearing your lipstick."
jihyo huffs, rolling her eyes. "i like wearing lipstick," she says. "mina doesn't care. do you?"
"mina doesn't care about anything," momo interrupts, her hands on your hips.
"that's mostly true," mina agrees, chin resting on jihyo's shoulder. "she can wear whatever lipstick she likes."
"i don't know a lot of high femme lesbians in punk," you say, grinning. your fingers twist and tangle with momo's. "i'm liking the crossover."
"i'm one of a kind," jihyo says whimsically, and mina hides a grin against her skin.
"i wouldn't go that far," momo replies, and drags your mouth back down to hers.
you come to her show the night next with your band, but momo's song isn't ready and it's just the normal set. you sing along to every word anyway, and the drummer — this girl sana who'd been at the original show with you — doesn't seem nearly as chipper as the last time. like she's enjoying it against her will.
you spend far, far too much time staring at momo's fingers, entranced to the point of disorientation. you're somewhere else entirely, as if momo's singing to you and only you in the presence of a much smaller room. momo thinks you're far too alluring, if punk rock were a person and not a concept, a movement, an ideology.
she finishes her set. you wrap your hands around the sides of momo's denim jacket, tugging her in and kissing her, not caring about the guitar in the way. "you're so hot," you say, "and your voice," but the sentence never ends. momo parts her lips, and your tongue slips through her mouth, ball of her piercing cool and foreign. you pull away, pressing yourself even closer, throwing your head back briefly. "you should take me back to your hotel room," you say, eyelids hooded.
"i should," momo agrees, finally slipping her guitar strap over her head and handing it off to someone who barely even blinks.
"so do it," you breathe out.
"y/n," sana says suddenly from behind the two of you.
"what," you say, tone steadying itself. you don't even look over, too absorbed, electrified.
"we're leaving," she says shortly.
"great," you say, eyes still darting between momo's and down her mouth. "i'm not."
momo peels off her shirt, unbuttons her jeans, strips her own tank top overhead. you run your hands all over momo's body and kiss her like it's your inherited right to. momo's toned and muscular and somehow lacking edges, soft and gentle. you straddle her and laugh until momo gives you a reason to stop, digging her teeth into the crook of your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your chest, fingers dancing on the inside of your thighs until you laugh again. but that's what sex is, what it should be; the two of you are just happy to be in bed together, sharing skin.
"i'm so bored," you complain over the phone. "i can't believe we don't see each other for another week."
"i know," momo says, laying in her bunk. "you just had to go south, didn't you."
"it's not like i planned the tour," you reply mildly. "don't you miss me?"
"more than anything."
"you're gay," you say. "at least mine's over after that."
"true." momo examines her fingernails, reminding herself to trim them before saturday. "what are you going to do when it ends?"
"follow you on yours, obviously."
her lips quirk. "good," she says. "you can hear my song for you."
"good luck topping mine."
"oh, i'm going to top a lot of things."
silence, and then a snort, "let's not get ahead of ourselves here," you say, rustling around, and momo presses the home button on her phone just to see your picture, your body hidden under white sheets and your smile spreading to your eyes.
it's late at night; it always is. they're musicians, and a good show often keeps them wired until four in the morning. jihyo and mina are sitting across the couch near the kitchen, sharing a single beer because jihyo couldn't finish it alone. she has a hand resting on mina's knee and she strokes it occasionally, absent-mindedly.
"jihyo," mina says, tucking jihyo's hair behind her ear.
"hm?"
"you know," she says softly, "that i like you, right?"
jihyo's mouth quirks bemusedly. "i'd hope so," she says, leaning closer to mina. "isn't that the point?"
mina raises her eyebrows expectantly. "is it?"
"oh," jihyo says, understanding; well, there's a lot of sex, and it's not her fault mina's so willing to acquiesce. "yes. it is."
"okay," mina says, grinning as she relaxes. "good."
"i like you," jihyo says, turning towards her, finding her mouth automatically. thankfully she's not wearing lipstick. "i'm a bitch, but i'm not that much of a bitch."
"i don't think you're a bitch," mina soothes, kissing her again.
"yes, you do," jihyo replies, but she's smiling, amused. "you just think it's hot."
"semantics," mina waves away, and jihyo reaches for the rest of the beer, leaning back against her chest.
momo's up front for alien's last show of the tour. mina and jihyo had elected to remain in the vip area up top, sitting at a table with tzuyu and dahyun, who are undoubtedly attempting to ignore them. they're in love now or whatever.
you catch her eye just before the first song and smile so widely you look more pop-punk, like momo, than your own punk rock. you pluck at your bass assuredly and sing and you've never sounded better; none of you have. it's the end, always the end when the energy's the most amplified. you toss momo two picks just before heading off-stage, prepping for the encore; momo hands one to a wide-eyed fan who screams holy shit this is fucking awesome into their friend's snapchat, keeping the other.
you all settle back in your places underneath blue pulsing light. the crowd quiets, preparing, and momo yells out, "marry me!" loud enough to be heard.
you laugh into your microphone; minho starts strumming the guitar but throws momo an approving wink.
"yes," you say, grinning to her. "give me a few years."
"it's all over twitter," jihyo says, gesturing at her laptop. she's wearing her glasses instead of contacts, something mina finds overwhelmingly adorable. "your dumb fucking proposal."
"oh, it wasn't serious," momo says, staring over at you with a smile. "but if they take it that way, it's not my problem."
"i'm hurt," you say sarcastically, your arms around momo's neck, legs thrown across her lap. "that wasn't real? i can't believe this. and here i already hired caterers."
"oh?" momo says, raising her eyebrows. "and what are we having, dear?"
"well, darling, i'd thought a teriyaki-grilled salmon or lemon-herb roasted chicken for the main course might do nicely," you begin whimsically, putting on an elegance. "a nice salad with like— walnuts and raisins or something, just for class; you and i don't actually have to eat it — maybe a soup. oh, fuck it, i don't know."
"i'm thinking burger king," momo says while mina laughs in the background. "we'll split a milkshake."
you grin so widely it pulls at the corners of your eyes, crinkling. you rest a hand against momo's shirt, smoothing it over her heart. "keep this up," you say, kissing her playfully, "and i'll propose right now, only it won't be a joke."
they're practiced musicians; the new song doesn't take a ton of time to learn, the same way yours hadn't. it's why they're all able to pull it off. it's been two months since she first met you, and—
wait, yes, that's the perfect introduction. momo grabs the mic, lets her guitar hang. "so, it's been two months since i met this girl," she says, and the entire venue knows exactly who she's talking about. "they've been the best two months of my life. she beat me to the song, but i think the waist was worth it."
you smile from where you're watching off of stage left. you'd wanted to be closer than the vip mezzanine. momo strums; dahyun crashes on the drums and stutters them. jihyo kicks in nostalgic techno beats. it's more upbeat than yours, more hopeful and optimistic and fun, like it comes with the label no seduction necessary. it's all lines blurring into a story meant for nobody but you to understand; we're binging three a.m. like chocolate and put your tongue somewhere i can taste it. momo glances over, catching you rocking to the rhythm, like the music's in your bones.
the song ends to silence — no, that's not right; it's just that she can't hear anything that isn't you — and she passes off her guitar almost on instinct, beckoned towards your blooming grin and the way you hold your body as if waiting for something to put your weight on. maybe momo's too slow, maybe your rare impatience consumes you; you take long, quick strides over, and momo catches your intention just before it's acted upon, her hands settling under your thighs as she hoists you up, legs wrapped around momo's waist.
you laugh — oh, music's one thing, but this is a sound she'd fight a war for — and kiss her shamelessly, uncaring of who's watching backstage, if anyone is at all. you say against your mouth, "i love it. play it at every show."
momo smiles, cheeks pressing against your palms. "i figured out what i believe in."
"what?"
"you."
momo keeps her word, playing the song for you at every show, regardless of if you're there or not. by now it's spread through the atmosphere; plenty of people show up already knowing the words, casting glances around the pit and trying to peek backstage for signs of the girl they all know it's about.
some music magazine contacts her manager about an interview. you and she are popular, she learns; there are blogs dedicated entirely to the two of you, twitters with the two of you as their icons. she agrees to a few questions before her next show; coincidentally you're there anyway, sitting sideways in her dressing-room chair, leg thrown carelessly over the arm. the journalist's young, about your age, but easygoing and relaxed.
answers in between applying eyeliner, mascara, letting you chime in occasionally for a laugh. it's practiced and simple between the two of you, pressureless. the interviewer says at the end of it, "it seems like you've really clicked."
"sometimes," you say with a smile, "you meet someone, and you just know."
she's playing at your hometown on a saturday two weeks later, nearing the end of her tour's final leg. you bring your parents and momo treats them to an expensive bottle of wine during the show; there are impressions. not everybody approves of pop-punk rockstars.
but you kiss her in front of them afterwards, your priorities made clear. you drag momo over by the wrist, introduces her to your parents casually, your fingers never leaving momo's for long. your father says, "y/n's never been so insistent we meet a partner of hers before."
"oh?" momo says, lip curling. "i'm both flattered and honored."
"shut up," you say, though nobody's quite certain who it's aimed at. "the others were assholes. i've learned my lesson."
"yes, i think you have," your mother says kindly, watching momo watch you with a warmth in her eyes she swears could melt glaciers.
they spend a little more time asking her about her inspiration, her influence, where she got her start, and then they seem unable to help themselves, reminiscing about you. you keep your hand on momo's knee under the table, rolling your eyes at the stories you've heard a thousand times. momo loves it, loves the pictures your sister pulls up on her phone, loves the anecdotes, loves you. maybe that's the wine talking — you turn to her, smile, and oh, no, it's definitely not.
the two of you bid goodbye to your parents under the glow of bright billboard lights and flashing signs. momo's fingers settle through yours, linking casually. she looks at you and finds a beauty so raw she knows she'll never succeed in putting it to lyrics, like seeing stars in a city where the sky's too bright for space. she tugs on your hand. you glance at her quizzically.
"i love you," she says, and your eyes dart between her own. "too early?"
you lean in, kissing her, and there's that familiar slant, that smile. "no," you say, kissing her again, giggle bubbling in your throat. "i loved you from the moment we met."
"i loved you the first time i saw you," momo breathes out, one hand spreading against your jaw.
"what is this," you say, pulling a face, "a competition?"
"yeah."
"oh, okay." you poke your tongue against your piercing thoughtfully. "then i loved you from— a past life or something."
"that's a good one," momo says seriously, going along with it. "i loved you in all of them."
"we'll agree, then," you say, your fingers linked around momo's neck. people move around the two of you on the street, uncaring and dismissive. they'll never be as important to anyone else as the two of you are to each other. "all our lives."
"it's you and me, baby," momo says breezily, and the two of you kiss again until someone wolf-whistles behind you both, a chorus of laughter. a group of three men walk by smirking.
you stare at them down and yell, "fuck you! fucking virgins!"
they don't seem to find you funny. momo laughs hysterically into the crook of your neck and thinks about eternity.
"last show," jihyo says, applying a cherry lipstick in the mirror. "i can't wait to go home."
mina hums her agreement, putting up her hair casually. jihyo reaches back without looking, brushing against her arm. "you're coming with me," she says.
"oh, am i?" mina says moderately.
"yes."
"okay."
"you're whipped," you say from the couch, flipping aimlessly through a magazine.
"says you," jihyo replies without bite, running a finger underneath her bottom lip. "you're literally reading an article about your own girlfriend right now."
"she looks so hot on the cover," you say, unbothered.
"thanks, baby," momo says, in the middle of changing her shirt. your eyes dart up, watching appreciatively, trailing over the lines of her tattoo. whatever; you all have seen each other naked at this point.
"besides, what kind of girlfriend would i be if i skipped all these important details?" you continue, squinting at a page. "she's a scorpio. her favorite ice cream flavor is mochi ice cream. her favorite color is pink."
jihyo actually grins against her will, amused. "you knew all of those things already."
"because i'm a good girlfriend," you state, matter of fact. "do you know mina's favorite ice cream flavor?"
"mint chocolate," jihyo answers without hesitation, and mina nods affirmatively.
momo drops a kiss against your head. "wow," she says. "this room's just full of serious relationships."
momo plays your song with the encore, this time, because it's the most important thing she's ever done, and it only feels right to honor it as such. the crowd screams themselves raw, hoarse, and momo tosses all the guitar picks she'd used that night out into the audience.
she's just finished saying thanks for coming out when you step on stage, walking right up to her, and kissing her in front of everyone. they love it, probably more than they loved the actual show. it's long enough to be earnest, short enough to skip the awkwardness.
"oh, sorry," you say into the mic, wrapped up in momo's arms. "i heard coming out and thought it was my cue. if you didn't know already, i'm in love with her."
you all are close enough to home that you all drive instead of fly. you stay on the bus with them, stretched against momo in her tiny bunk, running your fingers over the line of her jaw, her clavicle. you're always smiling when you're around momo, like your mouth itself is magnetized. the other four are playing cards up front; jihyo and dahyun are each other's throats about the score, and mina' calming tone echoes low, undoubtedly trying to keep peace and doing it poorly.
"well," you say out of the blue, "at least we're good for each other's careers."
"that's why i'm dating you," momo says, following regardless. "the free publicity."
you hum against her chest in a laugh. "is that so."
"totally."
"my intentions were purer," you say. "so i'm probably going to have to dump you now."
momo runs her fingers through your hair, smoothing it away from your face. "tell me about these intentions."
you shift up, meeting her eyes somewhat shyly. "our single drops tuesday," you say.
"i know. i already preordered it."
"i'm writing for our album," you say. "i've been inspired."
momo waits for the conclusion of the sentence, but it doesn't come naturally. you still have your moments of embarrassment. "inspired, huh?"
you press a kiss to momo's mouth as if you can't resist, just because it's there. "what if they're all your songs?" you ask, your smile like spring waiting for the sun. "what if it's all you?"
momo finds your lips again, kissing your cheek, your nose, your forehead; your smile bursts. "you already have my life," she reasons acutely. "it's only fair i get your music."
jihyo's apartment is a penthouse downtown with an incredible view of the skyline, lights twinkling below like stars, like gemstones. mina drops her bags by the door; jihyo tosses her keys on the entryway table. she looks too small for all this room.
mina says gently, "i'll stay with you as long as you want me to."
jihyo turns as she flicks on the kitchen light, surprised. she rolls the bar of her industrial. "that could be a long time," she warns, and she's actually serious. mina nods.
"i'm fine with that," she says.
jihyo steps back to her, raises her hands to mina's jaw and stands on the tips of her toes, searching for her mouth. jihyo kisses her softly for a moment and sinks down, leaning into her arms and sighing.
her eyelids flutter shut. "you're safe," she says quietly, "and not in a bad way."
"safe?"
"yes." jihyo nuzzles closer. "momo made me realize— well. isn't this what we all want? someone you know will never hurt you."
mina smiles tenderly. all the barbed wire has only ever been a prop. she touches jihyo and finds the remnant of something lovely, learning how to live again.
there's no beating around the bush. it's han's birthday and sana's throwing daggers with an intensity this makes momo think she should check her drink for poison. "what's her deal?"
you shrug somewhat uncomfortably. han yells as minho splashes him in the jacuzzi. "she used to be in love with me," you say, "when i was with my ex — you know, the shitty one — and I think she’s just... cautious or something.”
"hm." momo weighs the explanation, but it checks out. "that makes sense."
"yeah," you allow, sipping your daiquiri. "so i'm not really sure what to do about it."
"we need another lesbian to distract her," momo says. "we already lost jihyo to mina. i'm running out of single friends."
"speaking of distractions," you start.
"oh, here we go."
"this bikini," you continue, running your hand up momo's ribcage.
"uh, have you looked in a mirror?" momo counters. "i didn't know a one piece could look so..."
"so..."
"dirty," momo says, eyeing the way it dips between your breasts, how it's low in the back, open on the sides. "jesus christ."
"hey!" minho suddenly barks. "no foreplay! get in the pool, losers! this is a big deal for han!"
"excuse me!" jihyo snaps, mina pausing midway through applying sunscreen to her shoulders.
"not you," minho says, rolling his eyes. "y/n's about to mount momo right there at the bar cart."
"i have manners, thanks," you respond flatly, setting your cup on the table. "i would've at least waited until nobody was looking."
momo laughs, shaking her head, and putting her own drink down. she bends over, slides an arm underneath your thighs and picks you up bridal-style, muscles flexing.
"oh, don't you dare," you warn, your arms looping around momo's neck automatically.
momo smiles widely. "it's a party," she says, and jumps in the pool.
"sana," momo says later in the evening. you all are toweled off and mostly dry. she's wearing one of your hoodies; in retrospect, she could've been slightly more tactical. you're walking around in momo's loose tank top over your bathing suit and nothing else.
sana eyes her cautiously. "hey."
"look," momo says. "you and y/n — that's none of my business. but just so you know, i'm not going to hurt her. ever. i'd rather die."
sana's eyebrows raise at the intensity of the sudden declaration and lower again, processing. there are walls for a reason. she sizes momo up, but there's nothing hidden, no mangled doorways, no garden mazes. she sighs. "i know," she says bluntly. "it's obvious."
"but you still don't like me."
"i like you," sana says. "i just wish— that i could've done what you did."
momo asks, "how so?"
sana frowns, lips somewhat tight. "she was sad, you know. before you. she was... like no one could get to her."
they both stay quiet. your voice echoes out from inside the menagerie noise, standing out the loudest. it's light and airy and there's no sign of haunting.
"i'm alive for her," momo says quietly. "that's what it feels like, you know?"
sana smiles sadly but claps her on the shoulder. "yeah," she says. "don't fuck it up."
alien's single hits big, reaches number two on the charts within four days. momo takes you out to dinner. it's nothing fancy at all; it's a hole-in-the-wall seafood place near the ocean. the two of you both wear ripped jeans and boots; your hair's in a ponytail, and momo's falls as messily over her shoulders as it always does. you both are recognized once by a teenager who nearly has a heart attack just saying hello, but it's cute instead of uncomfortable.
"i'm proud of you," momo says. "is that cheesy?"
"totally," you respond, taking an oyster. "but it's also nice to hear."
"then i'm proud of you."
"thanks, baby."
momo smiles, looking at you serenely across the table. "god, i love you."
you actually blush slightly. you look adorable under the warmth of the red-tinted light, studiously avoiding momo's eyes with your mouth fighting a curl. "i love you," you say, blushing further.
momo actually laughs at that point. "what is this, our first date?"
you glance up at her, your grin breaking too wide to hide. "no," you say. "i'm just— it's weird to be here, you know? i have you, my band's successful, and i'm happy." you shy away again. "that's all."
momo reaches out and takes your hand, her smile softer. she doesn't say anything, just letting the moment soak itself in until there's nothing left but the freedom of feeling it.
"eat another oyster," she says after. "they're aphrodisiacs."
the two of you are both playing another festival the weekend of momo's birthday. wallflower is headlining, only because their single had dropped the weak before and it's big in the charts. alien plays right before. it'd been deliberate by the management team, trying to take advantage of your joint celebrity status.
momo watches you play, and it isn't like the first time; it's better, because now the girl on stage is hers. you own the music as if drawing it directly from your blood; you were born holding a bass guitar with a soul wired for poetry. you pause just before the last song and say to the wild crowd, "okay, everyone knows it's my girlfriend's birthday today, right?" screams to the point of incoherency; you shoot her a sly look in the wings. "how about we all sing her 'happy birthday'?"
momo ambles on stage, waving at the crowd, who are beside themselves at the gesture. they sing it wonderfully, all off-key and at different speeds, your voice holding her to the earth. at the end you pull her in for a kiss and momo wouldn't have it any other way.
the two of you share a hotel room; you both have the tendency to kick your boots off in the same place, as if habits can be developed in minutes with the right person, rather than weeks. you wander around in only your underwear and whichever shirt of momo's you've pulled out of her duffel bag, toothbrush in your mouth. momo's startingly content just watching you move around your shared space, and then suddenly she's thinking about it, you being everywhere momo is all the time, sharing dresser drawers, sleeping in a bed that belongs to the both of you.
you crawl across the mattress, straddling her with a smile. "hey," you say. "you've got a look."
"i'm having a revelation," momo says, palming your hips.
"which would be?"
"we should live together," she says easily, like it's obvious.
you still. "oh," you say, mildly surprised. "you're so right. we should."
"i know."
"okay," you smile blindingly again, bending down, and kissing her. "i can think of nothing better than you."
the album process flows effortlessly for the both of you. you're slightly ahead; your time in the recording studio comes a few weeks before momo's, but in the meantime, the two of you are also starring in each other's music videos. yours is a little darker, sultrier; the two of you kiss with the intent of seduction, not like the two of you are the only two people in the room but like you both are the only two who matter. it's sexy, your director says, and why shouldn't it be? keep that intensity. maintain it. it's the truth. the point of the video is that you belong together, and everyone one — well. they're nothing.
momo's video has more of a linear story, just due to the nature of the song; it's the two of you capturing each other's attention over and over again until every scene whittles itself down to physics, until the walls are gone and then the two of you are closer, you're right next to her, the sun is in the room with you both, shining. momo makes you laugh, the world kind of ends. your videos are both so popular that the two of you actually get offered a web series to serve as a continuation, which you both decline — "you've got the face for music," you say, "but i wouldn't test the cameras," and momo laughs, shoving you off the bed.
the two of you get an apartment the neighborhood over from jihyo's (and mina's? whatever) and the building the two of you are in is upscale, but it lacks pretentiousness, exactly what you both had wanted. "if i have to hear someone call me ms. y/l/n every day," you had said, "i'm going to fucking lose it," and so the doorman says, y/n, momo when he greets you both, grinning widely.
it's only a one-bedroom, but the two of you have ample amounts of space in the living room and dining room, and your tastes in interior design overlap perfectly to the surprise of no one. the two of you have always been complementary and it keeps its roots. you both lounge on your respective instruments, riffing off each other. half your pictures are prints from fans, moments they'd captured during your various crashing of each other's shows; momo always smiles fondly as she passes by each and every one. "i miss it," she says, "i can't wait until we get to do it again."
"all my songs are for you," you say from where you're sprawled across the couch reading a book, "so just let me know which one's your favorite, and i'll be sure to play it last. give you something to look forward to."
"i look forward to what comes after all that, actually," momo says, sliding the book out of your hands cheekily. "you know, when we get home."
you smirk. "well, darling, i can't fuck you on stage, so take what's offered."
"you can fuck me now."
"i can," you agree, biting your lip. "actually, yeah. i can. take your shirt off."
your albums drop exactly a month apart, a year and a half after you both had originally met. it's close enough that the two of you can tour at the same time, but far enough that you both aren't competing. not literally, momo's manager says, it's just better for business. both hit number one on the charts; momo texts jihyo the news and she writes back thank god, i'm running out of money.
asshole, momo types. and here i thought mina was making you nicer.
hello! the tone is suddenly not jihyo; it's instantaneous. momo isn't about to give her an inch.
shut up mina.
you get the tour schedule first. the two of you are spearheading something kind of unusual; two shows per city, alternating who opens and closes. the two of you keep your own buses, though the overlap means you both aren't really specific to passengers anymore; you and momo bounce between whichever is the closest after a show, and sana and dahyun take comfort in being the only two people who aren't consumed by inter-band romance.
it's fun. the only thing momo loves more than playing music every night is watching you play music, watching you work a crowd with a sly grin and a few choice bass notes, taking over the stage like you're the only one who's ever walked on it. she cheers and applauds with the audience, waiting in the wings for you to fall laughing into her arms and kiss her at the end of every set. there's a night where you all switch band members for a song; han trades with jihyo for the keys, you play the bass instead of mina, and together, in front of the crowd, she finally feels invincible.
"you know what i like most about this tour?" you ask her, stealing french fries from her tray at an arby's off of route five. it's just past midnight. there are only three weeks left. "you."
"that's what i like most too, you know," momo says.
"me?"
"no, myself."
you throw a fry at her head, laughing. "shut up."
"of course, you," momo says, grinning softly. "all my songs are about you. we should've named our tour two girls, one tour or something."
"horrible name," you disagree, "and not at all accurate. it's more like six gays, one tour."
"three lesbians, two bisexuals, and a gay man..."
"...walk into a bar," you finish, and momo snickers. "no, our tour name is just fine."
someone like you.
in truth, momo's been planning it for a while now.
the guitar pick sits heavy in her jacket pocket. she touches her fingers to it, runs a thumb over the engraving. you smile at her as you wire up for the show and all momo can do is hope it works. there's two weeks left of the tour left. she wants the two of you to be magical. she wants the two of you to be without the uncertainty of a future. she wants all roads to finally lead home.
she waits for the lights to dim and grabs your wrist. "hey," she murmurs, passing you the pick. "use this one tonight, okay?"
you find her mouth in the darkness. "okay," you say breathlessly, and slip out of momo's grasp for the beckoning of your music. you play through three, four, five songs — momo's getting nervous, her palms sweating, veins too hot for her skin — she presses her tongue piercing against the roof of her mouth, rolls it around, waits, waits, and waits. finally, there's a guitar solo and you glance down, pausing, and freezing entirely, your eyes darting back and forth. momo thinks her lungs might've overloaded. the drums pick back up, and you're supposed to come in but you're just standing there, staring down, and minho immediately realizes you're not following them. the crowd's humming, looking around, and minho says, "uh, y/n?"
"sorry," you breathe out at the prompt, shaking your head, free hand wrapping around your microphone. "sorry. i, um— i need a moment. i think— um, i think my girlfriend just asked me to marry her."
there's silence — the instruments all fall short, their echoes fading — and then a swelling gasp from the audience, clamoring forward for a look. you're turning to pick over and over in your fingers, as if trying to make sense of it all. you continue, "she handed me this guitar pick before the show, and i only— i only just read it. it says marry me."
"go, dumbass," jihyo says, shoving her forward. "that's your cue."
oh. oh, right. momo walks slowly onto the stage, right out of a dream, the lights too bright and you're standing underneath them like something ethereal, expression hopeful and open and saccharine. there's something — there must be — but she barely even hears it, anymore. the world softens at the edges, becomes a photograph, becomes a melody, becomes a song.
she gets right up to you, leaning into the microphone. it's hard to know where to begin, even though it's the only thing she's been thinking about for months.
you say, "momo?" in a sweet, quiet voice, and that's all the prompt momo needs.
"you threw me this guitar pick at like, the third show of yours i crashed, or something," she says, too anxious to be smooth. all that's left is the truth. "i kept it this entire time and i had it engraved two months ago. i've just been waiting for the right opportunity, the perfect show, and today," she pauses, swallows over the closing of her throat, "today, i looked at you and i just— it's always right. every day with you is perfect. marry me."
"yes," you say instantly, staring at her wide-eyed. "oh my god. yes. i'll marry you."
"i love you," momo says, entranced. there are lights flashing, cameras recording. she doesn't care. she'll keep this forever; in however many forms she can get. you laugh, tears welling in your eyes.
"i love you," you say, and your lips meet to the sound of thunderous applause.
I didn’t realise how little biases I actually had, and I put all of newjeans here cuz I don’t have a bias for them yet.
🏷️@alcoholfreenayeon @myoui-rkive +anyone else who whats to join :D
🧲 · · · bias line check ! ᯓ★
starting this little thing bcs i love seeing people's biases idk it is so interesting to me and they also resemble u guys a lot so pls pls pls show me <3
my babies btw :
this makes so much sense to me ... like yeah that's me that's what i am that's what i represent !
tags (no pressure) : @heesbaby . @okwonyos . @kairoot . @lilacnini . @copyhanni . @bywons . @wonryllis . @jjongscardigan . @jaeyunluvr . @naespas . @wvnrqs
「 ✦ Day 26: Masturbation ✦ 」
Warnings: Masturbation, tenacle kink, a bit of edging, first time writing smut, semi-proofread, Has been beta read
────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.────
Luna was watching her favourite hentai, getting so turned on by the octopus tenacles going in and out of the girl's wet pussy, watching and listening to her moan and whine every time the tenacle exits her, Luna's favourite part. She so badly wants to fuck herself but knows she'll be punished later by her girlfriends once they find out that she pleased herself while they were away.
Not being able to take it anymore, Luna sheds the shorts she was wearing and spreads her knees just far enough apart for her hand to enter her pussy. She moans at how wet she is already, and it's not even 20 minutes in the video.
Luna pushes one, two, three fingers deep in side her pussy moaning at the stretch and stimulation, she continues watching the video, fucking herself along to the same rhythm as the tenacles thrusting in and out the poor girl, who seems to be enjoying herself far more than she should.
*squelch*
*squelch*
*squelch*
Are the sounds Luna's cunt makes every time she thrusts her fingers in and out, edging herself more and more to an orgasm, but still holding back, wanting to climax at the same time as the girl in the video.
The girl's moans get louder and louder, white cream dripping down her thighs every time the tenacles thrust deeper and deeper into the girl's cunt, Luna thrust just as deep wanting more and more, pleasure, she uses her thumb to flick at and play with her clit after every hard thrust.
Two final thrusts the girl's jaw slacks, a silent scream coming out as she climaxes, Luna going off the edge shortly afterwards with a thrust more than the girl's, clear white liquid leaks down the girl's inner thighs, stars shooting behind her eyelids, the tenacles thrusts turn into gentle thrusts, helping the girl ride out her orgasm, Luna using her fingers to help her ride out her orgasm too, slumps over the laptop, chest heaving, breathes coming in pants, as she slowly recovers from her first of many orgasms, she slowly pulls her fingers out, groaning lightly at the sudden emptiness, and licks her slick off each digit.
She pauses the video to give herself a break, as she knows that this video will go on for another 30 minutes, she takes deep breathes, pulling herself up, stiffening as she hears a throat being cleared, Luna whips her head over her shoulder to find her two girlfriends leaning against the door frame, Amanda with her arms crossed over her chest and Kimmy with a devious smirk stretched on her face, "what do we have her love?" Kimmy asks Amanda with faux innocence, "a naughty bitch, that's what love" Amanda answers stalking towards Luna.
Luna knows she's in for a long night but fucking herself was so worth it.
────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.────
I hope you enjoyed this, as stated in the warnings, this is my first time writing smut in full, feedback would be much appreciated.
Word count: 476
love bug ; yoo jeongyeon
genre: fluff / smut
contains: mentions of alcohol, slight nipple play, boob play, cuddlygirlfriend!jeongyeon, established relationship, sort of thigh ridng, slight tit slapping, mentions of subspace.
a/n: i’ve been trying to finish this for a month now, i’m so sorry.
- -
you giggled at your tipsy girlfriend as she stumbled slightly onto the couch, her face almost coming in contact with your bent knee.
“careful, baby.” you giggle out, your hand reaching out to run your fingers through her hair.
she shook your warning off, laughing at her own intoxicated clumsiness.
the both of you had just got back from a club with the girls and their girlfriends, planning to just have a fun night out.
instead, everyone had too many trips to the bar within a two hour span, causing a group of fifteen girls to leave stumbling over themselves and giggling.
however, jeongyeon and you turned out to be the least drunk by the end of the night, just tispy but horny.
you had just planned to get home and go to bed, hoping to fall asleep in your girlfriend's arms.
but, as usual, jeongyeon had other plans for the two of you.
she smiled up at you in her bra, her top had been disgarded on the floor infront of the front door.
the light pink fabric caught your eye, the contrest of the dark pigment of her skin and the blushy lace made your heart swoon.
she was so beautiful to you, you couldn't belive that she was all yours.
she planted both of her arms on either side of your thighs, her wrists gently grazing the supple skin.
"i need you so badly, sweetheart." she whispered needily, smiling softly at you.
you loved when she spoke to you like this, so desperate to please you.
she looked down at you patiently, waiting for you to grant her permission to touch you.
that was another one of your favorite things about her, how she always made sure that you were on the same page as she was. she never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable during sex, it would just break her heart.
you smiled up at her, giving her consent to touch you however she pleased.
within seconds, jeongyeon's delicate hands attatched themsleves to your clothed breasts, groping them softly.
"gosh, i love these so much, baby. i could touch them forever." she breathed out, memorized by how they felt and looked in her hands.
her praise never failed to make you flushed, and it didn't go unnoticed when your nipple hardened under her palms.
she giggled at the feeling, her heart swelling at the proof of how horny she makes you.
you slid your thigh inbetween her own, pressing it slightly into her pantyclad pussy.
you almost gasped at how wet she felt already, the forplay hadn't even began yet and she was already forming a pool in her underwear.
"y/n, you're so sexy. fuck, i'm getting so wet just at the feeling of your pretty nipples." she mumbled, mostly to herself.
you blushed again, your cheeks turning a light shade of crimson.
"j, i can feel." you giggled loudly, causing her to blush as well.
"oh sush, it's because of you." she scolded, her hand swatted your breast lighty.
this time, you actually did gasp.
jeongyeon could be pretty rough and dominate when she wanted to, which wasn't very often. but whenever the time did come, the two of you found that you would each have the best orgasms.
something about the way she would seem so confident about what she was doing, always got her worked up, seeing you become so submissive was another factor as well.
"lets get this shirt off you, yeah? it's in my way." she suggests, her fingers finding the hem of your tank top, tugging slightly.
you nodded at her once more, granting her permission for yet another thing tonight, and you were sure that it certainly wouldn't be the last.
her fingers curled under the fabric, quickly tugging it off, waisting no time with teasing touches.
jeongyeon tossed the disgarded clothing somewhere infront of the couch, not paying any mind to where it landed.
"much better." she mumbled.
the cool air of the living room brushed against your bare nipples, causing goosebumps to form around your areola.
she giggled at the sight of you being completely naked under your thin tanktop, her mouth watering at the view.
the thing about jeongyeon that bearly anyone but yourself knew, was that her weakness was your glourious tits. she would go hours just thinking about the feeling of your nipples inside of her mouth, making herself flustered consistantly. there was just something addicting about them, she just could never stay away.
she leaned down, her lips envoloping one into her mouth.
"oh my-" you gasped at the sudden warmth of her tougue gliding itself across your hardened bud.
she was so talented in that department, jeongyeon knew everything to do when it came to sucking your nipples.
she giggled lightly at your reaction, her ego boosting slightly.
shortly after she started, jeongyeon found herself start to slip.
you felt her sucking start to slow down, instead of fast and eager suckling, it turned into long, drawn out suctioning.
this is what caused you to look down at her lovingly.
it was an obvious sign that she was too tired to continue, but too addicted to stop.
she got like this often, some would call it subspace, but it wasn’t like that. she never went that far in her head, just a little deeper than usual.
it only ever occurred whenever she got tired, like now.
“my little love bug, just sucking away, hm?” you whispered softly.
she nodded, her eyes darting up towards you in a adoring way.
jesus, she was so beautiful.
- -
oc! (she finally has a name)
☽ drunk girlfriend mikasa ackerman headcanons ☽
did somebody say sleepy drunk? her eyes start fluttering shut after a few drinks and her cheeks have gone rosy.
mikasa would rather have drinks more on the fruity side rather than beer. they taste better and she’s not worrying about impressing anyone with her ability to pretend to like beer.
she’s also a big fan of wine. she’ll order a glass or two when you guys go out to fancy restaurants.
she’s kind of a lightweight but not the obnoxious kind. she’s just smiley and a little zoned out.
she’s a considerate drinker, she likes to match your pace. if you have 5 drinks, she’ll have 5 drinks. if you have none, she won’t have any either.
she doesn’t mind going out with the girls to the clubs but her favorite part is definitely the pregame. she loves getting buzzed with all her girlfriends, everybody getting all dolled up and complimenting each other. girl time 🫶🏻
she can get a little possessive after a few drinks. she makes sure nobody fucks with you or her friends.
your date nights often include a bottle or two of wine, comfy clothes, and a movie on tv. this almost always ends up in you two both falling asleep on the couch, only slightly drooling.
drunk mikasa is sooo lovey-dovey. she doesn’t even have to say or do anything, you can see it in her eyes.
Meet GirlGroupNetwork: ↳ Juli's favorite comeback(s) Twice - Scientist
My love 💕💕💕💕💕
SOLAR - COLORS
![GALILEO // BAHIYYIH [231013]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/30a300efdac411048e1c98e4a420fca4/fcb2fb9ec472be2c-ba/s400x600/38a86440c36f60f1cc7d7d28b5f70b8a1eb15315.gif)
![GALILEO // BAHIYYIH [231013]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/a3dd30f82a866139a6afc2f5df34bceb/fcb2fb9ec472be2c-37/s400x600/f9ffa9a344d75318fd076bf22b27de31751b2da8.gif)
![GALILEO // BAHIYYIH [231013]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/50ed7f4f5731e8a4308a83a54bb85fbf/fcb2fb9ec472be2c-77/s400x600/c402c14514f9cfaf84eea8d25242fd24a6307960.gif)
![GALILEO // BAHIYYIH [231013]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/60765b0db688bdcd7283f32f8a21dcc8/fcb2fb9ec472be2c-a3/s400x600/8464b8ffd289d7bc10db092d02e2fb2495095561.gif)
GALILEO // BAHIYYIH [231013]
Moonbyul X The Nine Muses of Greek Mythology as featured in 문별 (Moon Byul) 1st Full Album [Starlit of Muse] CONCEPT FILM : MUSE
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She/her • ‘04 • doesn’t know what she’s doing Loves Mamamoo a lotDoesn’t know why she’s talking in third person about herself Loves reading fanfics of any girl group
157 posts