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Sana loves pretty girls. She always has.
Even as a child, it was always the girl with the shiniest hair and the most sparkly eyes that she wanted to befriend. She liked the way they made her feel, how her heart would go into a frenzy and her face would feel warm, and she’d be overcome with the sudden need to kiss their cheeks.
As she grew up, of course, those urges shifted into something different, more intense. And the girls felt it too, she soon realized. All she had to do was slightly pout her lips or bat her eyelashes just so, and they would let her kiss them on the mouth and feel between their legs.
That was her next best discovery: the effect she could have on them, her ability to turn any girl into a mess of thrashing limbs and high pitched sounds that clung onto her shoulders and didn’t want to let go. It wasn’t just her own physical pleasure that Sana was after, it was the vulnerability in their eyes when they came for her, because of her.
Because that’s the best part: the pretty girls love her back. It’s in the way their pupils dilate when she takes her clothes off, and the fact that they leave their boyfriends waiting until dinner has gotten cold, and how they ignore the ring on her left hand and fall prey to Sana, the prettiest of them all.
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Momo was first, obviously.
They’d just started their freshman year in high school. Sana’d been walking around the halls, schedule in hand and a confused frown on her face when she tripped on some random kid’s bag and plummeted to the ground. Before embarrassment could take hold in her, she felt a pair of strong hands tugging her upwards and dusting off her knees.
“There you go. I don’t think anybody saw,” said the cutest voice ever.
Sana looked up to thank her savior, and couldn’t help the smile that spread across her cheeks at the sight of a girl with black pigtails and a cute face that matched her voice. The girl was smiling back.
“I’m Sana.”
“I’m Momo.”
And just like that, they became inseparable. They did all the things best friends were supposed to do: whispered conversations in the middle of science class, late-night phone calls, taking care of each other at parties. Sleepovers.
Oh, how Sana loved those.
Most nights were innocent. Momo would come over and they’d put their pajamas on, pick the worst reviewed movie they could find and gulp down bowls of popcorn while snuggling under a threadbare blanket. They still do that sometimes, mostly when Momo happens to be dating someone. However short these relationships might be, Sana enjoys those evenings as much as the rest. They’re quiet and comfortable, and they remind her of that time before they started stealing wine bottles from their parents to drink at their slumber parties.
The first few times ended up in heavy make-out sessions that Momo would explain away under the guise of “practice”. Sana has never needed excuses; Momo was pretty, and kissing pretty girls felt good, so she did it. It didn’t matter what she thought about it, though, seeing as every morning Momo would either pretend to forget anything that had happened after the first sip of alcohol or fail to mention the previous night altogether. And that’s the way things were.
But soon enough “sleepovers” became code for frantic gasps as they roamed one another’s bodies under the covers, slipping their hands under cotton underwear and getting each other off while muffling whiny sounds against the other’s lips.
The very real possibility of their parents walking in on them at any point during the night never truly left Sana’s mind, but curiously enough, it only seemed to make her skin burn hotter and her underwear stickier. They were never caught, however, so they never stopped.
As adults, they both know what to expect when Momo asks for a night out to drown the sorrows of yet another failed relationship. Sana knows that sooner or later she’ll get pushed against a wall so that Momo can ride her thigh, whimpering in her ear loud enough for anyone around them to hear. She knows she’ll grab Momo’s ass and nibble at her neck as she lets her come again and again on her bare leg, until the alcohol and the pleasure make her almost pass out. Then she’ll get them both on an Uber to Momo’s apartment and tuck her in, basking in the air kisses that get lost on their way to her face and the soft “Love you, Satang” that Momo will murmur before falling asleep, always missing Sana’s answer by a second.
Their families and friends are constantly commenting on how perfect it would be if they could fall in love with each other, the perfect friends-turned-to-lovers that’ll never be, simply because of the fact that any and all attraction between them dies the moment they’re sober again.
Still. Sana does love Momo. And they both deserve better than a life of alcoholism.
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She’d been coming home from work when she first saw Nayeon. It was the same path she’d taken every afternoon since she started working at JYPE, but for some reason, it wasn’t until that day that she noticed the fitness center on a street corner, and its huge windows that revealed the women inside, who laid on mats and contorted their bodies in all sorts of unlikely positions.
Maybe it was the fact that she was the only one facing the window, or the bunny teeth exposed by her smile, or the way she waved at her, but among all the girls in the room, it was the instructor that sent that familiar tingle down Sana’s back. Entering the building and asking to see the yoga schedule was a split-second decision. There was, in fact, a weekly class she could take if she could manage to leave work a little early. She certainly could.
The first class didn’t initially go as planned. Nayeon had barely looked at her when she arrived, and seemed to purposefully avoid Sana’s side of the room when she paced around. A change of strategy was in order, Sana realized, and waited until the end of the class, when all other students were gone and Nayeon was gathering her things. She stayed on her mat, pouting and sighing her way to Nayeon’s attention. When the girl finally approached her, she looked so concerned Sana almost wanted to feel bad.
But then she noticed how long her fingers were, and how badly she wanted them inside her.
It was easy from there. Sana babbled something about having a hard time following the instructions, asked for the blinds to be shut and the door to be closed out of embarrassment and begged for a quick, hands-on, solo lesson. It was only a matter of accidental brushes across thighs and hot breaths against necks until she had a sweaty, fucked-out Nayeon urging her to get dressed before her boyfriend came to pick her up.
They have a lot of fun together, given Nayeon’s convenient flexibility and Sana’s never-ending curiosity on her quest for new positions to try. But it isn’t the rolling around on the floor while they rub themselves against each other that makes the excruciatingly boring yoga class worth it. No, the best times are often when Nayeon’s riding Sana’s face, and her fiancé is knocking on the door, and Nayeon has to yell in a breathy, high-pitched voice that they’ll be done in five minutes. Then she lets him in, cheeks still red and hair plastered to her forehead, and kisses him with Sana’s taste still on her tongue. Sana fakes a timid smile and tries to make the most ridiculous double entendre or grabs Nayeon’s ass while the guy is momentarily distracted, and then she walks home with a grin on her face.
Nayeon has made her promise multiple times that she’ll come to the wedding, though the hideous bridesmaid dress is where Sana draws the line. Honestly, she can’t wait, knowing this time she might actually get to fuck the pretty girl in the wedding gown.
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Mina has always been a sort of… accident for Sana.
For starters, Sana hadn’t asked for a picture when she set out to find a roommate that could relieve the absurd cost of a Seoul apartment; she simply got lucky when this elegant, soft-spoken girl showed up at her door and made her mouth hang open. Despite Sana’s numerous attempts in the first weeks to establish some kind of friendship, the other seemed to be either locked in her room or out studying most of the time, so she eventually gave up on the first girl to ever resist her charms and decided to leave it up to fate.
She noticed, however, the occasional sound of squeaking bedsprings or muffled moans late at night, when she knew for a fact that Mina hadn’t brought anyone home. Momo heard it once, during a sleepover, said something about quiet girls being the kinkiest and entertained the potential existence of a box full of outlandish sex toys hidden under some piece of furniture. Sana just hummed in consideration.
It was during another sleepover that they had a few too many drinks, and Momo, taking advantage of the fact that Mina wasn’t home, decided to give Sana a drunken lap dance. It wasn’t really out of the ordinary, and Sana was appreciative, hollering and grabbing at her friend’s breasts and ass. She was so engrossed, in fact, that even hearing the front door opening didn’t set off any alarms in her brain, and anyway, the speakers were blaring music so loud she probably imagined it.
She was busy trying to unclasp the bra of a distracted Momo when she noticed movement near the bedroom door, which they had left carelessly ajar in a bout of lust. It was open just enough for her to see Mina’s face, petrified with shame. Her lips were parted and her eyes resembled those of an animal caught near its natural predator. Then Sana’s gaze dropped and her clit twitched.
Mina’s hand disappeared underneath her shorts, frozen in the middle of a circular motion. Her hard nipples poked through her sweater and her knees were slightly buckled.
Sana couldn’t help but gasp and dig her nails further into Momo’s flesh. She shot Mina a tiny smile as she thrust her hips against Momo, who was still very much oblivious to anything other than Sana’s warm body under hers. Mina resumed her own movements, eyes still locked on Sana’s as the latter began to fondle Momo. Soon enough all girls were moaning in what Sana could only imagine to be three decidedly ruined pairs of underwear.
Mina came first as (Sana would later learn) she’s prone to do, and the image of her clamping her thighs around one hand while smothering her cries with the other has inspired many a fingering session for Sana. She was the next one, coming almost untouched as Momo still frantically humped her thigh to completion.
Sana watched Mina wordlessly disappear down the hallway while Momo stretched out across the bed, looking satisfied and well on her way to slumber. On the other hand, Sana laid awake in the small portion of the bed that was still available for the rest of the night, fighting the urge to follow her roommate.
Although it didn’t need much fighting, she realized the next morning, when she heard someone knocking on the bathroom door while she was in the shower. Granted, she’d assumed it was Momo when she yelled for her to come in, but she was certainly not disappointed when a silent, underwear-clad Mina nudged aside the curtain and stared pleadingly at her naked form.
It’s kind of a routine now, waking up on the mornings when Mina can be a bit late, and stepping into the shower together. Usually the girl is soft and pliant under Sana’s fingers and tongue, but sometimes she’ll randomly shove her against the wall and kiss her until they’re out of breath, and let the water run cold as she sucks and licks down Sana’s body.
And if Sana ever leaves the door ajar when she feels like touching herself, it’s really just polite.
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Sana could count on one hand the number of times she has actually seen Chaeyoung, but keeping track of the orgasms she’s drawn out from her would be impossible.
Technically they go way back, to when Sana was still in high school and upon seeing a mural on her way back home, she decided to follow the signature’s Instagram. She didn’t pay much attention to it at first, occasionally liking the drawings this person posted, until she came across the picture of a dark-haired girl, with huge, expressive eyes, and the most adorable mole.
She left a dumb comment about that being the biggest masterpiece the account had ever uploaded and was ready to facepalm herself and forget about it when her phone pinged with a private message. The girl’s name was Chaeyoung, and Sana couldn’t blame her for answering, given that her Instagram photos were essentially a catalog for girls to flip through and call if they liked what they saw.
It started with the usual formalities: how old are you? where do you live? are you single? But eventually they veered off into flirtier territory, with Sana half-jokingly asking if she was in need of a muse. By now, she was only a little surprised when Chaeyoung said yes; the girl seemed to be endearingly charmed by cheesy pick-up lines.
So, Sana sent a couple pictures. Mostly of her smiling, though she couldn’t help herself and included one of her biting her lip in faux innocence. Chaeyoung ate it all up. Every once in a while Sana would receive a pretty pencil sketch of herself, which in turn would get rewarded with a slew of new photos for Chaeyoung.
Not long after this development, Sana started requesting pictures too, and would be treated to new images of Chaeyoung and her constantly changing hair. From then on, each picture they sent seemed to involve an ever decreasing amount of clothing. At first they tried to play it off as being accidental that they were randomly missing a shirt, or “just out of the shower and had no time to get dressed :(” but the messages quickly became more and more lewd, culminating in Sana bashfully admitting “she wanted to fuck her brains out.”
They started calling each other. It was mostly at outrageous hours of the night, when Chaeyoung’s voice was all deep and breathy, and the few clothes they had on could be easily shoved aside when the conversation got heated. There were countless nights of Sana laying on her back, rubbing lazy shapes over her underwear while she listened to Chaeyoung’s whines after telling her how much she’d like to take her strap-on and slowly fuck her into the mattress.
That’s when the videos started coming in. Chaeyoung leaning against a bathroom stall’s door, pencil skirt hitched up to her hips as her fingers spread her slick across her folds before sliding them inside her with a low grunt. Sometimes other people could be heard entering the bathroom, unaware of the girl coming all over herself just a door away. Sana would get those videos at work and get so horny she could barely manage to bust into her boss’ office. If she had actually needed to get to the bathroom to touch herself… she might not have made it.
Eventually, they agreed that there was only so many times you could make someone come without actually fucking, and decided on a date: Sana would go to Chaeyoung’s place. When they finally met they scarcely made it past the front door before Sana pinned her to the ground and ate her out with a fervor only used after her most frustrated moments.
It took a while before she couldn’t take the ache between her legs anymore and let Chaeyoung lead her to the bed. The girl then retrieved a brand new strap-on and lube from her nightstand and offered it to Sana while she laid on her back, still wearing her shirt and bra. Sana ripped the garments off her body and lathered up the strap-on with the strawberry-flavored lube. She noticed the bottle wasn’t completely full.
“Have you been eating this, princess?” she asked, aware of the younger’s preference for that particular fruit.
Chaeyoung just nodded, looking mildly embarrassed.
Sana threw her head back and squirted some lube into her mouth while she stroked the girl’s folds with the strap, feeling her shudder at the sudden stimulation. Then just as she was entering her, she leaned over her body and run her tongue across the other’s lips, smearing the lube all over. She curled her hands around the hips as she started fucking her harder while Chaeyoung licked and sucked the strawberry from her tongue, the pinkish fluid dripping down their chins as Sana picked up speed.
After a while Sana realized their kissing was getting in the way of Chaeyoung’s pretty noises echoing in the room, and so she trailed her mouth down to her neck, where she tried her best to repay Chaeyoung’s drawings by painting dark purple hickeys into her skin. The girl squealed underneath her, scratching Sana’s back with her barely-there fingernails as she shuddered and came.
Sana had arrived at Chayoung’s a Friday evening and didn’t leave until Monday morning. In all that time, they only left the bed to eat or go to the bathroom, and even then every shower was a two-person affair. It was easily the most sexually rewarding weekend of her life, and she was so exhausted she even had to refuse Mina’s advances when she got back to their apartment, though she made sure to make up for it later.
Chaeyoung’s a very busy woman, and lives an entire town away, so their encounters are few and far between, but they never fail to make Sana jittery and wet weeks in advance.
Plus, if she gets too impatient, she can always send a picture.
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Sana owes Jihyo many, many things. Her nicest clothes, her new car, a whole apartment for herself if she wanted one (she doesn’t, of course, Mina has proven the perks of house-sharing multiple times). Not to mention the privilege of being late those days she gets caught up in the shower, or leaving early for yoga classes, or paid travel expenses to visit Chaeyoung. One could say that the benefits of fucking the heiress to JYPE are endless.
The best part is that Sana had to make little to no effort to get in her pants. It only took a week (the first one at her new job) of bending down in short skirts and crossing her arms over faulty shirt buttons for Jihyo to call her into her office and shut the door behind her. Sana spends so much time there she always has to take a moment to think when asked about her job.
Jihyo travels a lot, and always makes sure to invite Sana along, but that’s strictly off limits. Full weekends with Chaeyoung already dance much closer to the line that she would like them to, and going on a trip that could last weeks… She prides herself in mastering the art of declining every offer while still securing the next one.
Even though Jihyo being back at work always carries certain assumptions, their encounters are hardly monotonous. Sometimes she’ll call Sana into her office, arms crossed over her ample chest and head held high in a posture that makes every woman and man in the room quiver in their seats in either fear, arousal, or a mixture of both. Sana would place herself in the last category when she makes her way across the office and past the doorway, mouth going dry at the thought of what’s about to happen.
She’s practically shaking by the time the door slams behind her and Jihyo sits on her desk chair, legs spread open so that the outline of the dildo straining against her dress pants is only visible in this position. Occasionally she’ll order Sana to unzip her as fast as humanly possible and sink down on her rubber cock, but most times Sana is so eager to do just that that she has her begging on her knees for what seems like hours while they both soak their underwear.
But Sana’s favorite times are when she is bent over the desk next to the window that leads into the common area. The venetian blinds are shut, obviously, but she can’t help but stick one or two fingers between the slats and take a peek at her co-workers while Jihyo relentlessly fucks into her, curving her body around Sana’s so that she can feel the weight of her breasts bouncing against her shoulder blades.
Jihyo whispers filth in her ear, and Sana is never as primal and loud as she is when she can feel bruises blooming on her hips under Jihyo’s fingers and hear the sound of Jihyo’s thighs slapping her ass. She feels a hand sneak under her shirt and move aside her bra cup to pinch her nipple, and Jihyo stops talking for a second to run her tongue across her neck. Sana can’t help the wave of satisfaction that washes over her, knowing that Jihyo wants to use her teeth and mark her, but can’t. Out of all the pretty girls that have loved Sana, she’s been the hardest to convince, but eventually Jihyo realized that if she wanted her at all, she had to give up her neck.
It’s been twenty minutes and Jihyo still hasn’t even grazed her clit, which means it’ll be at least a half hour until she lets her come, unless she figures out what earned her this torture of being edged and manages to fix it.
“U-unnie,” she manages to cry out between thrusts. Sana’s actually older, but damn it if the word doesn’t have an effect on Jihyo, who groans and fucks harder every time she calls her that. “I wanna-I wanna come, please?”
Jihyo chuckles, adjusting them so that they aren’t on the desk anymore, but standing beside it. Sana’s knees give out, so she grips the window frame as Jihyo encircles her waist with one hand and starts unbuttoning her shirt with the other.
“I’m sorry, what was that? You want what?”
Right. Jihyo likes her loud. She always has to be reminded of that, given that they’re a door away from the rest of the workers. An unlocked door, that is. Anyone could come in at any point and witness the fully dressed boss and heiress to the company, sporting a massive rubber cock that she’s drilling into a half-naked, glassy-eyed employee.
The mere idea makes Sana whine, long and loud, and Jihyo’s hand lets go of her nipples to caress her inner thighs. Sana smirks as she holds on to the window, for as much as she loves getting fucked while standing, her knees are starting to buckle.
“Come on, let me come, you feel s-so good and, and big inside me, just… keep going, please, please, please” her voice is getting way too high and the words are all jumbled up, but Jihyo seems to understand just fine when she starts circling her clit with two fingers.
Long past the point of producing coherent sentences, Sana moans and gasps and peeks out the window. The employees that are nearest are looking in any direction other than theirs, and she can make out a faint blush on one or two faces. She makes more and more of a fuss the closer she inches to orgasm, and by the end she is basically screeching and rattling the blinds, until someone can’t resist the urge and looks her way. And Sana comes, locking eyes with a random person in the other room she doesn’t even know or care about, while Jihyo runs a gentle hand over her torso and pulls out.
Sana’s inner walls need a moment to adapt to the sudden emptiness, and she resists the impulse to pout, because Jihyo’s calling her a good girl, and good girls don’t pout. She waddles to a chair, feeling her thighs sticking together with lube and come. Her hair is probably a mess and she is drenched in sweat, not to mention the fact that her boobs are still out in display. Again that weird fantasy of somebody walking in flashes through her mind.
Jihyo removes the strap, hides it in a desk drawer and smooths down her hair. She shoots Sana a dazzling smile, looking as flawless as she did an hour ago.
“I have a meeting. Take all the time you need to clean yourself,” the boss’s hand is already on the doorknob when she turns around, looking like she just remembered something. “Oh! It’s almost lunchtime. Here, go to the mall or whatever. Have fun!” and with that, she drops a few bills on a shelf and is out the door.
Sana freezes for a second.
Then she takes the money, ignores the sting in her nose and the lump in her throat, and pulls out her phone to help Nayeon pick her wedding dress.
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Tzuyu loves her best, along with Momo.
When they first met, the younger was just a senior in high school, hiding her face behind her black locks of hair so stubbornly that it took Sana twenty minutes of sitting in front of her to notice the absolute goddess she was. Then again, she hadn’t expected to find one in an awkward dinner involving her mother, her mother’s soon-to-be husband, and his teenage daughter.
Sana had graduated from high school two years before, and was already out of the house, momentarily living with Momo until she found a roommate. She still felt very much like a teen, so the words were foreign on her tongue when she finished racking her brain for an icebreaker and asked:
“So, Tzuyu, how are you doing in school?”
The girl peeked at her from behind her hair and shrugged.
“Okay, I guess,” she mumbled in a foreign accent that made Sana’s chest clench.
“Actually,” the girl’s father leaned in so he could look at his daughter. “Tzuyu’s been having some trouble with math lately.”
“Oh!” Sana’s mom says, and Sana freezes, knowing the exact words that are about to come out of the woman’s mouth. “Sana was really good at that when she was in school. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind tutoring Tzuyu?”
Her mother turned to look at her with a quirked brow, but Sana was too distracted by the faint pink inking Tzuyu’s cheek.
“Sure!” she let out, sounding a tad too enthusiastic.
The younger girl’s eyes flicked upwards and met her gaze for a moment before looking down at her plate once again.
“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
As soon as Tzuyu and her father moved into her old house, Sana started dropping by every week for a math lesson. Tzuyu turned out to be really smart, probably smarter than Sana if she actually managed to focus every once in a while. They would be strewn across Sana’s old bed (now Tzuyu’s), surrounded by books and notebooks, and after a long, detailed explanation Sana would look up to find the other girl staring, only for her to divert her gaze and hide her blush behind her hair.
Those times, Sana would often crawl closer and cup Tzuyu’s cheeks in her hands and watch the blush deepen.
“Aww!” she’d coo. “You’re so pretty and cute, Tzuyu-ah”
“Ugh, stop it,” the girl would squirm, obviously trying (and failing) to wipe the smile off her face.
By the time their parents’ wedding rolled around, Sana was comfortable sitting down with Tzuyu for most of the party, and then dragging her by the hand to an isolated corner so they could dance away from the dozens of guests that stumbled around, too inebriated to notice them.
Admittedly, Sana had had a couple drinks earlier, but it wasn’t until the waltz came on that they started getting to her head. Both girls swayed clumsily, falling into the occasional fit of giggles every couple seconds, until Tzuyu sighed and nestled her head on Sana’s shoulder. Her exceptional height somehow only managed to make her cuter and the smell of her shampoo was so intoxicating that Sana had to close her eyes and sigh with her.
“Mmm… I love my new baby sister,” she hummed against her hair.
A few seconds passed where only the music and the dull chatter from across the room was all that could be heard.
“I love you too, Unnie,” Tzuyu finally muttered against her throat.
Sana’s smile was so wide her face ached. She never would have imagined that the shy, apathetic stranger would end up becoming so essential to her life, but such was her fate.
But. Tzuyu’s a very, very pretty girl. And Sana kisses pretty girls.
Tzuyu had just graduated (with outstanding math grades, as she made sure to tell Sana) and they were listening to the newest BTS song, laying on her bed, when Sana removed their earphones and sat up, frowning in faux seriousness.
“What?” the younger one laughed when she saw her, turning to lay on her back.
“Tzuyu-ah, do you have a boyfriend?”
Tzuyu’s face went pale and the smile slipped off her face.
“Uh? No, I don’t really…”
“A girlfriend, then?”
Tzuyu pursed her lips, looking away.
“No, actually I…”
“Have you kissed a girl?”
Tzuyu set her jaw and stared squarely at the ceiling, her cheeks lit on fire.
“No.”
Sana nudged her side and patted her face until Tzuyu managed to look at her.
“Well. Do you want to?”
The girl’s lips parted and her chest rose with a shaky breath.
“Yes.”
Sana cupped her cheek like she’d done a hundred times, feeling the warm blood rushing underneath, and leaned down to brush her lips against Tzuyu’s.
They kissed until their lips were so red they might as well had applied five coats of lipstick; they kissed until Tzuyu was reminded enough times that she was the best, the prettiest little sister; they kissed until it was nighttime and Sana had to leave.
That’s how every family dinner ended from then on, with both girls excusing themselves from the table and going back to the room to touch each other. There was a little voice in Sana’s head that stopped her from touching between Tzuyu’s legs, possibly her last shred of sanity or morality, but damn it if she didn’t wanna gently remove the girl’s clothes and taste her, taste them together.
That didn’t last long anyway. One night Sana spent all dinner discreetly caressing Tzuyu’s thighs under the tablecloth and watching the poor girl struggle to hold her spoon or answer any of their parent’s questions. Things took a rather interesting turn when Tzuyu set down her silverware and started to touch Sana the same way, and the idea of getting each other off right there certainly had the elder shaking. Their parents cut the meal short though, claiming to have plans for the rest of the night. They kissed the girls goodbye and went on their way.
Sana practically dragged Tzuyu to the bedroom and kissed her on the bed until their lips were raw and the girl was whimpering under her.
“Unnie, come on…”
Sana smirked, feeling the thrill of total control rush down her spine.
“What do you want, little sis? You need to use your words.”
“I…” Tzuyu looked absolutely disheveled with her swollen lips, rumpled hair and feverish eyes that refused to meet Sana’s. “I want to come. Please make me come, unnie,” this time she managed to look at her, and Sana had no choice but to slide down the girl’s body and do as she was told.
Since that night, they actually have managed to finger-fuck each other under the table, but Sana suspects Tzuyu’s favorite times are when they make out on the living room couch, waiting for their parents to come home, or pressed against the front door while dinner is being prepared.
Maybe that’s why Tzuyu tries so hard to make Sana proud. Good little sisters, especially pretty ones, deserve to be kissed when they’ve done well.
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Sana has no idea why she knows Jeongyeon.
She was in the middle of her monthly room cleaning when she found it, wedged between the nightstand and the wall. A piece of paper with a phone number written on it and no signature, save for the smiley face scribbled on a bottom corner.
Sana stopped to think who had been in her room in the past month and was able to come up with three possible suspects: Momo, Mina, and a girl whose phone number she knows by heart (and was certainly not the one on the paper). Puzzled but nonetheless amused, she decided to type the numbers into her phone and call, if only to crack the mystery.
“This is Dr. Yoo’s office, how can I help you?”
Sana frowned. Was this some sort of prank?
“Uh. I don’t know. What kind of doctor are we talking about?”
The line went silent for a second.
“A psychologist, of course.”
Sana hung up the phone and flung it towards her bed, then looked down at the piece of paper she was still holding and crumpled it up in a fist. An odd rush of adrenaline surged through her, as if she was a teenager that had just called her crush wrongly assuming they wouldn’t pick up. It interrupted her whole cleaning session and left her bedridden for the rest of the day, mindlessly scrolling through Netflix and trying (unsuccessfully) to forget about the incident.
She ended up stopping the movie she didn’t know even the premise of to stare at a wall, wanting to call again and not knowing why. Maybe whoever had left that number had done so for a reason. Maybe she herself had, in a drunken haze some random night she remembered nothing about. And really, what harm could it do?
As soon as she woke up the next day, she looked for the note she’d carelessly thrown across the room and called again, hoping her voice wouldn’t be recognized. In ten minutes she had an appointment scheduled for the following week, and she refused to think about it until she was knocking on a pristine white door, waiting to meet the renowned Dr. Yoo.
Her gut filled with dread when the door opened and revealed a short-haired woman, dressed in simple, conservative clothes and wearing no perfume that Sana could distinguish. Against all rules of society, she was pretty. So Sana could only sigh at herself and follow the woman into a room furnished only with a desk, a chair and a divan.
Talking to Jeongyeon felt nice and warm, so she actually took her time going through the introductions. What was her name? who was she close to in her family? did she have a job, was she still a student? Sana made an effort not to mention –or expand upon- the likes of Tzuyu, Momo, Jihyo, and the rest of her girls.
After a while, Jeongyeon looked up from the notebook she’d been scrawling on and cleared her throat.
“Alright Sana, I think I can get an idea of how your life is in general. May I ask now why you chose to request an appointment with me?”
Sana’s mouth opened and closed and her fingers curled into fists.
“I think… I think it’d be easier to show you.”
Before Jeongyeon could object, Sana dropped to her knees and crawled towards the woman’s chair, placing her hands on each thigh. Jeongyeon’s eyes widened.
“I-I’m afraid this is most inappropriate- ”
Sana’s fingers started working on each clothed leg. The pants looked unconformable but easy to take off.
“I’m sorry miss Yoo, but this is the only way I can show you,” seeing as she wasn’t being pushed away, Sana started grazing the zipper. “The only way you can understand…”
Jeongyeon sighed, licking her lips and looking at anything but Sana. Her hands gripped the armrests as she let her unzip her pants and lifted her body to facilitate their removal, but otherwise remained disengaged as Sana ran a tentative finger along her underwear.
That didn’t last long. By the time Sana had shoved the garment to the side and given a tiny kiss to her clit, Jeongyeon was squirming and breathing heavily, keeping her mouth shut by biting her lips so hard Sana was almost hoping she’d bleed. While that prospect seemed very appealing, she brought up a hand and fit two fingers inside the woman’s mouth, smirking against her cunt when she felt her suck her digits expertly. They locked eyes, but Sana remained focused on her task.
If there was an area she was undeniably skilled in, it was eating pussy. After all, she’d been practicing since high school. She licked and lapped along the slit, sucking the clit into her mouth and humming around it. Jeongyeon’s slick coated her chin and the tip of her nose, and Sana had to rub her own thighs together in an effort to relieve the unbearable warmth that dripped out of her every time she buried her face between a girl’s legs.
Jeongyeon no longer pretended to be unfazed, bringing her hands to her breasts to try to stimulate her nipples over her shirt while she let out low, short moans around the fingers in her mouth. Her reactions only spurred Sana on, slurping and nibbling like a mindless, starved animal devouring its quivering prey. When Jeongyeon came, she cried out and pushed Sana’s head farther into her cunt, touching her for the first time in the whole session.
Sana helped her come down with a few long licks, then repositioned the woman’s clothes and removed her spit-covered fingers from her mouth. When she was done she sat on Jeongyeon’s lap, still feeling her pulse between her legs, but ignoring it in favor of watching the other run a hand through her short, sweat-slicked hair. Jeongyeon looked at her then, breathless and dazed. She pressed her thumb against Sana’s glossy, sticky lower lip.
“You are seriously fucked up, Sana. You should get help.”
As ironic as Sana’s smile was, it still felt forced.
|||
Sometimes Sana is alone.
It just happens some nights that the stars align, and Momo is out on a date with someone she just met, and Mina is studying somewhere else, and Chaeyoung is busy drawing another girl, and Nayeon is tasting cakes with her fiancé, and Tzuyu is hanging out with people her age, and Jihyo has an important meeting overseas, and Jeongyeon simply has other patients.
She doesn’t really have any other friends, and the only family member in her age range, well, she’s fucking her too. It’s not her fault that this is the only way she knows to love them, is what she’s always telling herself. It sounds like something she should bring up to her therapist, if the vast majority of their sessions didn’t consist in Sana going down on her.
So, in those nights when her phone is silent and the apartment is empty, she sits on her bed, not even bothering to change out of her pajamas, and waits for the text that always comes in the form of “You at home?” or some of its variations. It’s as if there’s a string connecting her soul to Kim Dahyun’s, except it only goes one way, and it’s only used in this situation.
It’s not like anyone forces her to answer. The phone’s off button is right there, as are the letters N and O. The longest she’s ever stalled her response is fifteen minutes, and by that time her stomach was already in knots and her eyes stung with tears at the thought of that text being the last one. Most times though, she’s already clutching her phone and staring at the ceiling, waiting for it to buzz her back to life so that she can type a quick response and resume her catatonic state that’s only broken by the sound of a key wrestling with the lock she never bothered to change.
She smells her before she sees her, that sweet floral perfume she’s worn since the day they met, an eternity ago. They are much older now, and heavier, and so the scent feels like a mockery, a costume of something that used to be good and pure but has turned into an aberration. Although she doesn’t have time to dwell on it, for Dahyun is standing beside her in a matter of seconds, looking down at Sana’s form that sinks in the mattress. The girl’s dress and make up suggest some kind of formal meeting she either just fled or will be notoriously late for. She lowers a hand to caress Sana’s cheek.
“How have you been doing, beautiful?” she asks, and her eyes almost look concerned, an act further solidified by her red, pouty lips.
Sana doesn’t say anything, letting Dahyun grab her left hand and hold it to her cheek. An outsider –or even a younger version of herself- could mistake it for Dahyun wanting to feel the warmth of her skin, but Sana knows it’s the merciless cold of her engagement ring she’s actually starved for.
Sana spreads her arms and lets her climb on top of her, eyes closed in anticipation of the kiss that Dahyun presses against her mouth, soft and languid and reminiscent of nights long past. Sana’s hands start to roam the only curves she had worshipped in three years of relationship and that she still knows by heart. Her fingers caress the full breasts, the ribcage, the tiny waist and broad hips that lead to her toned thighs.
She knows Dahyun’s body better than her own, and it’s so easy for her hands to inch back upwards, dragging the expensive, shiny dress along until it’s off and on the floor. Once in her underwear, Dahyun kisses down her chin until she reaches her neck and starts sucking bruises into the skin; and Sana should stop her just like she does all the others, but she never will, because she’ll never actually want to.
After a few minutes of groping and kissing, Dahyun drags her lips up to her ear and whispers “Touch me, Sana.”
They switch places, Sana settling in between the other girl’s legs, who now lies on her back, propped up on some pillows so that she can look straight into Sana’s eyes. That’s when she notices the faint blueish marks on Dahyun’s neck, and is momentarily blinded with a raging need to cover or replace them with her own, but she has to remind herself what she already knows: that’s not allowed.
She swallows her fury and her sorrow and carefully kisses a trail down Dahyun’s pale body, feeling two naked, ring-less hands stroke her hair. When she reaches the soft, creamy thighs, she takes a moment to nuzzle them, feeling very much like she could fall asleep right there and not wake up for days. But Dahyun’s getting impatient, she can tell when the girl starts tugging on Sana’s short sleeved nightshirt, the only item of clothing she is wearing over her underwear. Sana quickly gets rid of it, and she almost wants to cry at the feeling of skin against skin.
She then removes Dahyun’s remaining garments, and a thought goes through her mind that this is the only girl Sana’s ever fully undressed, but she lets go of that knowledge so that she can fully dive between her legs.
They’re in no rush, so Sana alternates between licking and fingering her the way she knows will keep Dahyun on the edge of orgasm for longer than is comfortable, but that will be immensely worth it once she’s done. There’s also the fact that she constantly wants to override her previous memories of her gasps and deep groans, afraid that she’ll someday, somehow, forget.
Dahyun’s getting closer and her voice gets higher, holding Sana’s gaze and stiffening her grip on her hair as she asks, breathless, “Would you leave them, Sana? Would you leave them all for me, if I asked?”
Sana cries a “yes” against her mound for what feels like the thousandth time. And also for the thousandth time, Dahyun doesn’t ask.
When Dahyun comes, she’s louder than she’s ever been before, chest rising and falling in a frenzy and limbs uncontrollably thrashing about. Sana tastes her for the final time, staring at the beauty sprawled across her bed, and commits the image to memory, always so afraid of forgetting and being forgotten about.
Once Dahyun’s breathing has steadied and the sweat has dried on her porcelain skin, the girl scoots further down on the bed and gestures for Sana to crawl closer.
“Come ‘ere.”
Sana sits on her face until she, too, is spasming and whimpering as horrible images flash in her mind, of finding Dahyun riding random girl’s tongues on their bed, in their apartment. This bed, this apartment. She remembers the third time, the last one, which ended with Sana crying and screaming and Dahyun just shrugging in defeat before trying to return her engagement ring. Sana never accepted it, but she never saw it again, and sometimes she wonders if it’s sitting in an abandoned drawer or being displayed on some second-hand store window.
When she comes, it’s with tears in her eyes. Her body collapses next to Dahyun’s and they lay beside each other, staring at the ceiling. Sana starts to shake in a completely different way, because even with Dahyun mere centimeters away from her, she feels emptier than she did an hour before. Her skin is sticky and cold, and she’d get up to run herself a hot bath if she had the energy, but all she can do is stay still and wait for the last question, the one that always comes.
“Do you love me, Sana?”
She closes her eyes.
“Yes.”
Numb, defeated.
“Good,” the other replies in the same monotone voice, and it isn’t like she wasn’t expecting it. Never in their years of knowing each other has Dahyun said it back, but the wound on that particular part of her heart never seems to close.
Time goes by, what feels like hours but are most likely seconds, and Sana is now positively shivering from head to toe. Dahyun sits up, pecks her on the lips, and covers her freezing body with a blanket. Sana hears her retrieve her underwear and dress from where they’ve been discarded and recognizes the sound of keys clanking. Her eyes don’t open until she hears the front door slam shut.
She rolls onto her side, feeling cold from the inside, as if she’s bleeding ice into her lungs. She brings her knees to her chest, bites her lip to stop it from wobbling and digs her fingers into the fresh bruises on her neck, desperate to feel the pain. She thinks about Dahyun’s hickeys, and wonders if the girl has a Dahyun of her own, and if everyone else in the world is stuck in the same cycle of loving and not being loved.
|||
There’s another memory that often crosses her mind at moments like this. She’s seventeen, it’s the first day of senior year. She’s talking to Momo and she feels a hand tapping her shoulder. When she turns around, she finds a girl with the brightest, most beautiful smile she’s ever seen.
|||
Sana lays there for the rest of the night, naked and cold, and cries thinking of all the pretty girls that don’t love her back.