Chapter Text
Having a full ride doesn’t make Yujin exempt from financial struggles. No amount of grants and financial aid can subsidise the amount of nutrients needed by a human being. (Trust her, she tried.) Which meant she needed a job to eat. So when she saw a little flyer in the common area of her dorm advertising a three-day long shoot, she took one of the little break-off paper pieces containing the contact information, sent in her comprehensive resume, and got an email confirmation later that day saying she got the job.
It was easy. A little too easy, maybe, but organic apples, milk, and Graham crackers don’t grow on trees, (well, the apples do but Yujin doesn’t have an apple tree,) so she has to spend money on them.
Yujin is among the earliest staff members to arrive. A middle-age man with slick-back hair seems to be the one in charge, his permanently sour expression making Yujin’s day just a little bit worse whenever she makes eye contact with him. Good thing eye contact has never been her thing.
“I said two spoonfuls of sugar.” He almost paints Yujin’s shirt brown with the force he hands the cup of tea back. “Heaping.”
(Note: Director Wu is a man baby.)
She leaves for the break room (a glorified janitor’s closet) and spoons an ungodly amount of sugar into the standard-size mug with little brown drips down the side. Her mind sets the next goal as cleaning off said tea lines, but a voice makes her leap out of her skin and drop sugar on her shiny black boots.
“Need some tea with that sugar?” A girl in a plush white bathrobe leans against the table behind her. It’s rickety and has two mismatched chairs slid under it, but it doesn’t struggle to support her weight. “Or do you like it really sweet?”
“I—um,” Yujin grasps for words but a blush is already fighting its way up her neck because of the girl’s lips. They’re upturned into a little smirk.
Yujin gets the sense this stranger knows she’s fighting to keep her eyes from meandering down the exposed skin of her chest: the dips that accentuate her collarbone; the soft line that cleaves her otherwise covered breasts; the way her silky brown hair falls in beach waves, a few strands down the V-cut of her robe, other layered pieces ending at her mid-torso. When it comes to her eyes, Yujin isn’t looking because—oh shit. She’s looking pretty hard now, isn’t she?
“Like what you see?”
Yujin’s throat dries up so fast, like liquid nitrogen on wet skin. The blush has already defeated her.
“Sorry.” She turns around to rip a paper towel from the roll and wet it to make the sugar stick, but she only gets halfway through that plan before her wrist is lightly surrounded by gentle fingers.
“It wasn’t an accusation, just an observation.” The stranger’s lips are shiny, and she takes the bottom one between pearly white teeth. The way the front two hook onto her puffy lip is faintly leporine. “Are you feeling ok? You’re red.”
“I’m fine.”
They have a bit of a staring contest. Yujin loses by default because she looks at those glossy smirking lips.
“You do look like a fine.” She leans beside Yujin, head tilting with a crooked smile. “I’m Wonyoung.”
“I…” Yujin trails off, every word dying on her tongue when exactly-her-type Wonyoung slides a blunt-nailed finger along her jaw, forcing her to think: She’s touching me. Little sparks fly where their skin meets.
“Get it? Because you said you’re fine, which I agree with? That was the joke.” Yet neither of them are laughing. The humoured smile on Wonyoung’s lips doesn’t count. “You’re really hot, Yujin.”
“Me?” Yujin squeaks out, face on fire when her eyes dart down to where the lapels of the robe pull further apart by how Wonyoung leans closer. “M-my name, I didn’t—”
“Yes, you. Kris hasn’t exactly been subtle in barking orders at you all morning.”
Yujin has this sneaking suspicion that Wonyoung is the last person in the world who should be giving lessons on subtlety. Especially when her eyes are all dark and gooey, melting into Yujin’s wide, deer-in-headlights ones.
When Wonyoung leans impossibly closer, going for her ear, Yujin takes a crunchy step back. “Thank you,” Yujin barely manages, turning away. She wets the paper, crouches to clean the mess on the floor, and catches a glimpse of Wonyoung’s bunny slippers. Further up are her otherwise long, shiny, and flawless legs. They sparkle like there’s glitter on her skin.
Again, Wonyoung’s voice floats like cotton candy clouds to make goosebumps erupt all over Yujin’s skin. “Like what you see?”
Ok, maybe Yujin isn’t in any position to be judging subtlety either (because she can’t stop fucking gawking at Wonyoung’s beauty), but in her defence, she’s too gay for this shit.
“Wonyoung!” Kris shouts, popping his head in the doorway, face screwed up in a bitter scowl. “What the fuck are you doing in here?”
Unapologetically, Wonyoung says something about being only a second, then taps the crown of Yujin's head, drawing Yujin’s gaze skyward.
Wonyoung pulls up the nosepiece of Yujin’s glasses and releases it so it thuds back down. “See ya, cutie.” She winks.
…
The furious blush creeps right back into place when the first “model” (as Kris so kindly refers to them) lies down on the mattress.
Yujin isn’t one to judge what people do for money. Just because adult entertainment videos aren’t her cup of tea doesn’t mean she wants to poison the metaphorical well or anything. Quite the opposite. The type of videos Kris directs are her cup of tea in a different way, more on the consumer end.
Though, she digresses. Because it should’ve been specified on the poster that this isn’t a regular filming job. It’s far more graphic than that. Apparently it takes a lot of willpower, too, because there’s a lot of discomfort involved in not looking too hard at what’s going on in front of her eyes.
She should’ve done her own digging into it before taking the sixteen dollars an hour.
Kris shouts the most bluntly obscene directions at Jiwon, who crawls over Wonyoung and captures her lips. Without any work to do, Yujin is forced to watch. Wonyoung gets breathy fast with Jiwon’s hands sliding down the gentle curves of Wonyoung’s body, stopping only to pull Wonyoung’s knees apart, and when Jiwon kisses a trail downward and Wonyoung’s lips part in a soft moan, Yujin almost melts out of her skin.
Wonyoung is looking at her through lidded eyes. At Yujin. Directly.
Moans continue to fill the air, louder and louder, and Yujin’s entire mind muddles. Wonyoung is still looking at her, only breaking away to tip her head back and tangle a hand in Jiwon’s hair, but she returns not a minute later. It should be criminal.
She reminds herself to wear contacts tomorrow, in case Wonyoung is just distracted by the way the light catches the glass, or maybe she can see herself in them and that’s all it is.
A particularly loud and crackly cry of, “Fuck, yes, harder,” makes the tingling feeling spreading everywhere turn into an ache.
“More tea?” she whispers to Kris, taking his empty mug from his hands and running away with it before getting a yes. He needs his caffeine to act half decent, and it’s her job to keep him sane. And herself.
…
The second day isn’t any better. Jiwon and Wonyoung are joined by a third, equally beautiful girl with short black hair, a type of cut Yujin wishes she was bold enough to perform on her own virgin chest-length hair. She’s never been the type to make big cuts.
But she considers making big cuts on her own throat whenever Wonyoung looks at her. Wonyoung’s eyes get so dark, black pupils swallowing up her brown irises, and through lidded eyes, she doesn’t stop glancing over. It feels like she’s prolonging it, too.
Yujin is sure she’s imagining that Wonyoung moans louder when meeting her eyes, but given the minx-like look on her face when she’s done with a scene, her skin a wonderful pink as she shoots Yujin a hazy smirk, it’s on purpose. Yujin is tomato-red up to her ears.
They’re near the end of the last scene and Wonyoung comes hard, not letting go of Yujin’s eyes to close her own as she usually would. She traps Yujin there, pinning her with a wink and smile she wears so lazily—so clouded with arousal—that it sends Yujin deeper into the gutter of her mind.
Kris turns to Yujin. “Can you—”
“Emergency.” Without thinking she runs away, skittering toward the bathroom like she’s seen a ghost. And maybe she has.
There’s zero chance someone like Wonyoung is flirting with someone like Yujin, who wears the same graphic t-shirt and faded black jeans almost every day. Wonyoung being undead, or possibly a demon trying to steal her soul, seems like a plausible explanation for this turn of events. Logic doesn’t explain any of it.
She’s running cold water on her wrists. A trick to calm herself. The door opens beside her.
“Hey. Are you ok?” The sincerity of Wonyoung’s voice isn’t lost on Yujin, but stalking closer in that robe with, arms crossed, really takes away from any genuine attempt at civility. It just makes Yujin hotter. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
No fucking shit you’re making me—
“No.”
Wonyoung hums. It sounds more like a purr when it reaches Yujin’s ears.
“Really?” There’s relief to it, a breath exhaled. “I won’t be offended. I’ll leave you alone in here.”
“Y-Yeah—I’m… It’s cool,” Yujin stutters like the socially incompetent excuse for an adult woman that she is. “I’m not uncomfortable.” In her defence, this doesn’t fall under any category of normal social interaction. “Why would I be?”
“C’mon.” The corner of Wonyoung's smirk grows into a honey-like grin. “You know why, but if I need to spell it out…” She eyes Yujin up and down, making a show out of it before wetting her lips. “I’m into you.”
Whatever the cold water did to relieve the incendiary heat is immediately reversed when Wonyoung traces the shell of her ear. Wonyoung’s other hand goes for the knot keeping her robe together, which she pulls to make it fall apart, not more than a foot away from a stunned Yujin.
“What do you think?” Wonyoung whispers, words ghosting Yujin’s ear. Her robe falls open enough for Yujin to see what she’s already seen before, except there’s hardly a layer of separation anymore. “How do I look, Yujin?”
Looking away from Wonyoung means either obviously trying to avoid her, or looking lower where the robe splits apart. It’s an impossible choice. But she decides to openly ogle. How can she not when Wonyoung’s smolderingly hot supermodel body practically presses against her?
“Am I pretty?”
Yujin nods. Wonyoung is beautiful.
“Do you like that?”
Yujin hesitates but tells the truth, nodding again.
“So I’m your type?” Wonyoung starts at Yujin’s shoulder, sliding down her arm until she has Yujin’s hand. “What about me?” At Wonyoung’s guidance, Yujin’s hand dips into the robe, lands on Wonyoung’s hip bone. “Touch me, Yujin. Show me what you like to do, what you want to do to me.”
Yujin’s jaw is long on the floor, vision wobbly, and she’s sure it’s all a dream. Wonyoung’s skin is so soft to the touch, like no one’s touched it before, and her eyes seem to mirror the same burning arousal Yujin feels prickling every end of every nerve.
Wonyoung shifts to be in front, one hand on either side of Yujin’s body to keep her trapped against the counter. Not that Yujin minds being trapped like this. Yujin splays one hand on Wonyoung’s skin and slides up to her lowest rib, passing her thumb across. It earns a little moan—heavily exaggerated, if Wonyoung’s teasing smirk is anything to go by, but makes Yujin’s breath hitch nonetheless.
“There you go,” Wonyoung whispers, encouraging, pressing closer, making Yujin’s head spin deliciously. “Touch me more, Yujin. Anywhere you want.”
When the door pops open Yujin is already breathless.
“Jesus Christ.” Jiwon yanks Wonyoung back by the shoulder, typing her robe as she scolds her. “Leave the poor girl alone. Isn’t your blatant staring enough?”
Wonyoung has this blank expression on her face. It changes when Jiwon meets Wonyoung’s eyes only to be levelled with a glare. By the time they're out the door, Wonyoung looks like she has some choice words piled up for the blonde.
That was a close call. Good thing they didn’t go too far—yes. It’s a good thing.
One more day of this and Yujin will be free from temptation.
…
“So you’re telling me Hot Pornstar Girl came onto you in the bathroom?” Rei asks, both eyebrows raised in entertainment. This is fun for her. “And what’d you say?”
“Not much. It’s unprofessional, not to mention how morally grey it is.”
Her brows lower and furrow, smile disappearing into a disapproving frown. “Morally grey? In what way? Because the only type of grey occurring between the two of you seems to be the Fifty-Shades variation. It’s a pretty cut and dry situation—well, maybe cut, but not so dry when—”
“But it’s still unprofessional. I’m ninety-nine percent sure they have a contract saying no intercourse outside of work for the duration of the shoot, and the way things were going she seems not to care about that. I don’t need that type of recklessness, because what if she does the same to other innocent staff members and has a bunch of diseases? It’s just a health concern. I’m looking out for myself,” she rambles, trying and failing to believe herself.
Rei scoffs, arms crossing, frustration a stark contrast from the otherwise empty atmosphere of Rei’s new dorm. “She may have been trying to, like, hook you in, so that after the film ends she can hook up with you. Who says she was trying to bang you right there?”
Besides the fact Wonyoung encouraged more touching, “You, just now, about one minute ago.”
“Huh? You’re contradicting yourself. Which is it? Now or a minute ago? You clearly can’t be trusted.” Rei swipes Yujin’s protein bar from her hands and takes a bite, wincing but chewing regardless of her displeasure. “You can’t let that hot bod go to waste. This is your chance to bag someone cute. What’s her name again?” Rei opens her laptop. “Wonyoung?”
“That’s her real name. Online she’s Vicky.”
Rei pulls in her laptop and types “Vicky Porn” into the search bar, hitting enter with zero hesitation. She mutes her laptop and begins to browse, closing all the pop-ups without a care in the world. “Damn. She’s really good looking, yeah.”
“…Yeah.”
“Yeah,” she parrots Yujin's almost wistful tone. It would be a straight-up fib to say their little moment in the bathroom was unpleasant. “You’re an idiot. Just fuck the pornstar and be happy. YOLO, you know? (They both physically cringe but Rei doubles down by continuing like nothing happened) Chlamydia goes away.”
“I mean, orgasms go away too. It’s not like—”
“Fine.” Rei slams her laptop shut. “Resist your temptations then, all I’m saying is I have nothing against it and neither should you. Hell, I bet once she films another fuck-a-thon in front of you, you’ll change your mind real quickly.”
“Unlike you, I have some self-control.”
“Even Gandhi levels of self-control can’t save you here. Sorry to tell you, but she’s exactly your type down to the colour of her hair.”
Yujin rolls her eyes. Eighty percent of the Earth’s population has dark hair.
“Just do it.” Rei sighs, leaning back in her cheap foldable lawn chair. “You’re seriously a piece of work. Since you can’t look people in the eye this is the only chance at scoring some so easily. It would be very scientifically stupid to deprive yourself of that.”
“I… I asked Minju out?”
“After being friends for, like, five years. You and I both know you’d never pick someone up like this, and since you aren’t willing to walk around shirtless and use those abs for some good, you won’t have hot girls falling at your feet any other time.”
Perhaps Rei has a point. Yujin has zero game and Wonyoung doesn’t look like she has any diseases, so it could be a win-win for them. Quid pro quo. Except Yujin has a fraction of the experience and exponentially more anxiety.
“…Maybe.”
“Thank god!” Rei hops up and crushes her with a hug. “Maybe this will cure the god-awful mood you’re always in.”
“Hey.” Yujin shoves her back. She’s about to deny it but something entirely different is put into words. “You can just be nice without adding something bitchy at the end.”
The rest of the evening is spent going back and forth because Rei will under no circumstances admit how much she cares.
…
Day three is solo scenes in an office, where Wonyoung is sitting at a desk and her hand trails down between parted legs. Her legs are just, God, there aren’t words to describe them—to describe her. All Yujin can do is lean against the further wall, try not to listen, fail, throw hungry stares from the sidelines, and look away whenever Wonyoung catches her.
No one dares to take a breath, to interrupt. It’s all too much. The slick sound of Wonyoung’s fingers working herself. How they glide in and out frictionlessly. Throaty moans filling the thick air. It’s insane how no one seems to bat an eye over the erotic display. Yujin needs to clutch her clipboard to her chest to stop from suffocating.
Most of the staff are women, which is probably meant to be a comfort. But it’s a lesbian “movie”, so she isn’t sure what that says about anything. Trying to distract herself with thoughts like these proves useless.
When Wonyoung’s head tilts back and lulls to the side so she can make direct contact with Yujin through lidded eyes, Yujin doesn’t look away. She holds Wonyoung’s milky gaze. It doesn’t matter if she’s blushing furiously because Wonyoung can see whether or not Yujin is watching. It’s painfully obvious what watching this is doing to Yujin’s mind and body, her grip on the clipboard ironclad.
It lasts far too long. Yujin aches, her thighs throbbing by the time Wonyoung squeezes her eyes shut and releases a particularly loud shout. The squelching only gets worse as she continues, and Yujin can’t breathe.
Again, she runs.
The cold water does little to quell the raging heat this time. Whatever void existed behind her eyelids before this moment is gone, replaced by Wonyoung’s long, slender fingers thrusting into herself, leaving only to drag teasing circles around her clit—and her eyes. Those evil fucking eyes she seems unable to control. She knows it’ll be all she dreams about, all that occupies her mind for the next few weeks at least.
“Yujin.” She doesn’t even notice the door has opened until Wonyoung is cupping her face with both hands, crashing into her lips like they’re oxygen. “Fuck, Yujin,” Wonyoung says her name again upon pulling away, this time with an edge of desperate urgency. “Yujin, I need you.”
Yujin’s eyes widen, refusing to close for several heavy breaths, until Wonyoung kisses her hard again. Their teeth click with the force of it. Wonyoung bites Yujin’s bottom lip, slipping her tongue inside so they glide together, and Yujin is choking on her own apprehension. To no one’s surprise, Wonyoung is an excellent kisser.
Yujin pushes Wonyoung back by the shoulders for a breath of air, accidentally shifting the robe so it exposes more of her chest. Yujin’s eyes go wide again and she pulls the cloth back quickly - not because Wonyoung is completely exposed, but because Yujin didn’t want her to think it was intentional. Disregarding the fact they’re way past misconstrued intentions…
“What?” Wonyoung has this sultry smile on her swollen lips, both arms draped over Yujin’s shoulders, wrapping to tangle into her hair. “Don’t wanna fuck me anymore?”
Yujin is at a complete loss. She feels like there’s a hidden camera somewhere, either because this is all a prank or because it’s just another scene for the porno. It can’t be real, is all.
Wonyoung ghosts their lips together while eyeing Yujin like she’s more of a thing than a human being. At least that’s Yujin’s humblest interpretation.
“Yujin,” Wonyoung whispers against her lips. “Use your words.” Yujin’s body won’t allow it, so it’s quiet for short-winded seconds. “Do you want me to beg? Is that it? Because I’ll beg for you, Yujin, I will. Just say the word.”
Wonyoung is aggressively pressed against Yujin, their chests flush with only their thin clothes to keep them apart. One of Wonyoung’s slender fingers traces her jawline, her eyes not relenting in their lusty assault for even a second.
“I want your mouth on me,” Wonyoung starts out of nowhere, stealing away the slim remnants of Yujin’s breath. “I want your fingers, and your tongue, and your body on mine, Yujin. I want you to fuck me so hard.” Every breath Wonyoung takes is ragged and close. “Can you do that for me?”
Apparently Yujin can blush even worse. Everything is red, especially the thoughts swirling around and down to the pit of her stomach.
“I-I’ve never—I can’t,” she stutters, a struggle to articulate herself. “I don’t think you—I’m not… I…”
Wonyoung’s gaze relaxes for a second. “You’re a virgin?”
“No,” she races to say. But she’s close to being a virgin, she supposes, since she’s had exactly one girlfriend and zero hookups. Her voice is half a whisper. “I just haven’t, um, I don’t… with strangers.”
Wonyoung takes a reasonably shaky step back. “So you don’t want me?”
When Wonyoung puts it like that, in that downtrodden tone, it seems downright criminal to even consider saying yes, but if Yujin did it would be a lie anyway. They both know Yujin wants her in at least one way. She hadn’t gotten flustered every single day over nothing. She isn’t a burning ball of heat now over nothing.
“I-I do, it’s just I think you expect too much from me.”
The little smirk returns to Wonyoung’s lips. “Do you want to be fucked, Yujin? Is that it? Because you’re not making any sense. A hot girl wants to have sex with you and you’re making excuses, so if you don’t want to, just say it. I won’t be offended.”
It’s not that Yujin doesn’t want to. God, of course she wants to. Yujin is just a little… out of her element, while Wonyoung is perfectly in hers. She does sex for a living. Yujin’s only ever done it for love.
Wonyoung wraps an arm around the small of Yujin’s waist and draws nearer, words whispered in her ear now. “Last chance, Yujin. Want me to go down on you? I wanna taste you. See how wet you are for me.”
Jesus Fucking Christ.
“Did you like watching me fuck myself?” Wonyoung bites her earlobe, voice husky. “Did you wish it was your fingers? Your mouth? I did, Yujin. I wanted it to be you fucking me. I still do.” She draws back to trace Yujin’s bottom lip, toying with it. With her. “You have perfect lips. I want them all over me.”
Yujin never considered how different it would be for Wonyoung to use that dirty mouth of hers like this, to seduce her, but it’s working. She’s moments away from combusting, entirely forgetful that an unanswered question lingers in the air.
Wonyoung squeezes one of her shoulders in an attempt at self-control, lips grazing Yujin’s ear in stark contrast to the harshness of her words. “Fuck, Yujin. Talk to me.” Her voice is pleading. Legs tangled with Yujin’s own. So when Wonyoung steps closer and her crotch presses into Yujin’s thigh, it doesn’t seem like a coincidence. “Tell me you’ll fuck me, or I can fuck you, or—”
“Not here,” Yujin finally blurts, stopping Wonyoung from grinding onto her jeans by placing a hand on her hip. Over the robe, of course, because… obviously she’s a little reserved about the whole thing, her touch pointedly careful. Wonyoung looks confused—and maybe a little offended despite saying she wouldn’t be—so Yujin hurries to justify it. “It’s illegal.”
Yujin doesn’t have to study law to know it would be indecent exposure if they got caught, which would be an expensive fine at best and jail time at worst. She doesn’t plan on adding a bathroom-sex misdemeanour to her resume.
Wonyoung huffs, far from annoyed. She seems to think it’s funny. Maybe it is. Yujin wouldn’t really know if this type of thing is normal.
“Ok.” Wonyoung sinks her lips into Yujin’s again, fingers pressing hard into her nape as she brutally tongues her again, curling up into the roof of Yujin’s mouth this time. That lasts at least a couple of minutes until Yujin is practically gasping for breath. Wonyoung’s grip on Yujin’s nape is a vice when she lets her free, pinning her down with flushed with dark twinkling eyes. “My place.”
…
Yujin’s never done this before.
Wonyoung insisted that changing out of her robe wasn’t necessary, so the walk to her car was quite uncomfortable because Yujin knew there was nothing beneath it. The drive was only a little worse. Wonyoung made a playful comment about Yujin’s leg bobbing up and down. (“Are you that excited?”) Yujin felt bad for being unable to play along.
Now she’s too nervous to think of anything, period. No thoughts swirl anywhere. Worry fades into an unnamed abyss the second Wonyoung shuts and locks the door to her townhouse.
“Where—” Yujin tries to ask something (she forgets what) only to be cut off by a searing kiss.
Wonyoung pins Yujin to the door and devours her mouth in much the same way she did in the bathroom: nipping Yujin’s bottom lip; gliding their tongues together; and swallowing Yujin whole by the time she pulls away for air.
After her lips, the next thing to be taken is Yujin’s t-shirt. The design is something stylistically worn, a distressed “Michigan” sprawled over a screen-printed scene of a forest. It lands on the foyer floor beside their toed-off shoes.
With no thoughts forcing her to overthink, she reaches for Wonyoung to cup her face and melt into the kiss, lips on lips, their hands grasping for every inch of skin available to each other.
Soon, Wonyoung reaches for the clasp of Yujin’s bra, already trailing kisses lower. She seems to be about a hundredth of a second from dropping to her knees right then and there. Yujin has half the mind to say, “Bed,” and Wonyoung stops.
Down a very short hall somewhere they take a right, and before she knows it, she’s being violently shoved backwards so her knees hit the mattress and she falls to sit on the edge. Her bra disappears and Wonyoung gives her breast a ghost of touch before aiming lower, unbuttoning her jeans, tugging them down, and falling onto the floor in front of Yujin in the process.
Instead of coming back up once the jeans are a faraway pool on the hardwood, she pulls Yujin’s knees apart and settles between them. Their eyes lock vehemently as Wonyoung’s tongue goes from the inside edge of her knee up to the hem of her boyshorts. She’s embarrassingly wet but hopes Wonyoung won’t draw attention to it.
The lights are on, which makes Yujin feel the heat of Wonyoung’s sultry gaze tenfold, her capillaries racing to send her into cardiac arrest once she realises Wonyoung is slowing down all of a sudden. The pad of her finger traces Yujin’s underwear, up to the muscles on her abdomen. It has been a race to get to this point, so why?
Wonyoung sits up and draws a finger up the centre of Yujin’s abs, which flexes and unflexes because she’s breathing so damn hard. “Fuck, Yujin, are these real?”
“How would they be fake?”
There are a few seconds that pass where Wonyoung just ogles them, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as she traces the muscle. She must like seeing Yujin’s breathing quicken as the rise and fall of her stomach hurries. Wonyoung’s pleasure at simply looking at her is what emboldens her to take Wonyoung’s chin between her fingers and connect their eyes again.
She builds the nerve to ask, “What?”
“You’ll look really sexy on top of me, is all.” Wonyoung traces the line down but doesn’t stop at the hem of her underwear, instead taking it all the way down over the soaked cotton. It elicits a shiver that trickles to the tips of Yujin’s fingers. “You’re so wet for me Yujin. I’ve thought about tasting you since I saw you. Then I’d think about you tasting me. All the things you’d say. What it would feel like to scream your name. Every time I came it was for you, thinking about you fucking me.”
Wonyoung’s crude bluntness threatens to make Yujin look away, but she doesn’t have time for it because Wonyoung takes the hint, pulling down Yujin’s underwear at an inhuman speed. Even less human is the deftness at which Wonyoung spreads her folds and licks up her slit.
Yujin bunches silky sheets in one hand and silky hair in the other, urging Wonyoung impossibly closer at the single touch. Pleasure shoots from her core to everywhere else, rocking her from the inside out.
She’s been in a dry spell for over a year and breaking it like this is truly a dream. Yujin expected a high level of skill from the woman on her knees but this tongue is nothing short of magical. She uses the broad flat of her tongue to ride straight up into Yujin’s clit, wasting no time in circling it, not bothering to tease.
Her embarrassment starts building again when Wonyoung looks up at her through beautifully lidded lashes as she circles her tongue, coaxing Yujin’s clit to its fullest sensitivity in no time at all. The embarrassment furthers when it takes her no more than a minute to be close and she needs to consciously stop herself from exploding on Wonyoung tongue. It proves to be an impossible feat when Wonyoung surrounds the bud with swollen lips, sucking harder than Yujin thought possible. Or maybe she’s just too sensitive. Either way, she shivers violently.
“Wonyoung,” she moans, the word spilling from her lips several more times in the next few seconds.
To resist finishing so quickly, bunching sheets and hair isn’t enough anymore, so she crushes Wonyoung’s head with her thighs. When she becomes more conscious of it, she opts to spare Wonyoung from any real damage, sacrificing herself by tumbling off the edge after no more than five minutes. It’s another hard suck and flick of Wonyoung’s tongue on her clit that does her in.
She goes rigid and shakes, probably crying out (but she can’t hear anything), and her eyes squeeze shut. Everything is bliss, from the tip of her head to the pads of her toes, and when she feels every vertebra of her spine tingle and relax, it occurs to her once more how truly incredible Wonyoung is.
Wonyoung draws out each quiver of the orgasm by drawing shapes on her inner thighs with her thumb, a distraction to keep them apart, and leaves kitten licks on her abused clit. On shaky legs, Wonyoung stands and gets as close to Yujin as she can without bearing her full weight down, one knee on the bed between Yujin’s legs as a hand reaches Yujin’s shoulder, sliding up until she’s cupping her face.
“Take it off.” She brushes her thumb across Yujin’s cheek in a way that makes the words seem like a softer demand than they are.
Being the only undressed one, Yujin knows Wonyoung means the robe, so she races to pull the tie and watches it fall. The article becomes nothing but a pile of plush cotton when she sees Wonyoung in all her glory, miles of flawless legs and perfect handfuls of breasts. Everything about her is perfect. Yujin reaches forward to pull her in.
“Uh-uh,” Wonyoung hums, catching her wrist with a cheeky smile. “Tell me what you want.”
Yujin’s lips part but nothing but heavy breaths of recovery make their way out.
“Don’t I deserve it?” Wonyoung scoots her knee further up, sliding it the microscopic distance required for it to hit Yujin’s soaked heat. “Did my mouth feel good, Yujin? Do you like me on my knees for you?”
This habit of Wonyoung saying her name like that is going to kill her, or permanently steal her voice away so she can’t talk at all. Ever again. Wonyoung wraps her arms around Yujin’s neck, breathing against her lips, and Yujin is powerless to do more than nod drunkenly.
“Say it,” Wonyoung whispers firmly. “Say you like it.”
Yujin mirrors the hushed tone of her voice but can’t sound firm. It escapes more like a secret. “I like it.”
“Good.” After tipping Yujin’s head upward to fix the angle, Wonyoung kisses a trail from the corner of Yujin’s lips along her jaw, painfully slow. Lips turn to tongue, warm wetness slides against a particular sensitive sport behind Yujin’s ear, eliciting a hushed whimper. By the end of it, Wonyoung bites her ear again, her voice thick. “Say you want my fingers inside you. Say my name. Beg me for it.”
“Wonyoung.” It comes out as more of a gasp when Wonyoung’s knee slides up and down. Both of them know Yujin is more than ready for another round. “P-Please—I want your fingers inside me.” Her dignity is long gone, but the words make her feel blue-hot at her core. “Wonyoung, please.”
“How bad?”
“Very—” she struggles, grasping for words and something to fill her lungs with. “Very bad.”
Wonyoung rides her knee up again before finally taking Yujin down to the mattress, littering a path of open-mouth kisses to her breasts, shifting her focus. Without hesitation, Wonyoung circles Yujin’s areola with her tongue as precisely as she did with her clit until her nipple was hard and ready to be sucked. Wonyoung sucks hard again and again and again, a relentless torrent of pleasurable jolts shaking her to the bone. Yujin throws her head back, a whimpered moan breaking free when Wonyoung’s teeth scrape the bud, fingers working her other nipple just the same. Another climax already begins to build between her legs.
“I want you so fucking bad.” Wonyoung leaves to crash their lips together, kissing Yujin senseless while pulling her legs further apart again. “I want to feel you come around my fingers, watch your pretty face as it happens. You’re so fucking hot, Yujin. So good for me.”
A fiery rush wills her thighs to tense, seeking friction for her core at Wonyoung’s words.
She and Minju never tried dirty-talking in their years together, always too shy. Yujin can look back on those awkward times fondly now, but at the time she wanted to die over the brutal learning curve. It was probably why she and Minju never mixed things up. They were always shy about it in one way or another.
Wonyoung is just… shameless. And her words feel so good. They make her throb in a new way she can’t even begin to analyse right now.
Wonyoung groans softly into the skin of Yujin's chest. A finger glides through her slickness and into her ready opening. Yujin gasps at the sensation—at the whiplash of Wonyoung stimulating only her nipples, ignoring her other needs, only to go fast when reaching lower. Wonyoung rises and swallows Yujin’s shaky breaths in hot, wet kisses, the type that makes Yujin’s vision go spotty because it’s hard to get air in the best way possible. Long, slender fingers thrust in and out at a steady pace to prepare her for when Wonyoung goes harder, faster, slips another one in, and crooks them up on every-other movement, sliding and sliding against her walls, drawing them tighter against the digits.
At some point Wonyoung stopped kissing her, so now she’s drawn back watching Yujin’s face wrought with pleasure, the fruits of her wonderful labour. It’s a little humiliating but Yujin can’t be bothered to think so in the moment.
“Wonyoung,” Yujin whines because her untouched clit is desperately aching for some attention. “I need—I-”
She gasps when Wonyoung presses the heel of her palm onto her hooded clit, each additional hard thrust working to expose the hardened nub until she’s squirming from the sensation. Wonyoung takes some weight off the arm holding her up, instead allocating it to pin Yujin’s hips down harder. Once she’s more still, Wonyoung moves her hand in messy circles as she slides in and out. The additional pleasure it brings sends Yujin reeling, back arching pointedly as her head feels like a supersaturated solution dipping back into the sheets.
“Fuck, I—.” Her voice is tight and higher than she thought possible. A warning. “Wonyoung.”
Wonyoung nuzzles into her hair to coo into her ear, a desperate whine to her voice, “Come for me.”
Aside from the way Wonyoung’s fingers now curl perfectly into Yujin’s G-spot on every outward slide, Wonyoung’s palm rubs her clit, the way she can feel her walls tighten around Wonyoung’s far-reaching fingers, and Wonyoung shaky breaths into her ear, it’s those words that send her over the edge. The way they echo through her whole mind and back like an enzyme cascade and bring her crashing down into herself. A state of pure euphoria.
Like the first time, she goes rigid. A litany of curses spills from her lips at the axis-tilting force of it. Her toes curl, muscles tighten, and Wonyoung bites into her pulse point like a goddamn vampire right then, eliciting a whine as Yujin judders from the infernal pleasure of it all. Yujin is helped through every shake and shiver by Wonyoung’s thumb, which replaces the base of her palm to ghost her clit after she slides her fingers free.
Wonyoung falls beside Yujin, breathless and unfocused as if she’s riding the same high into the clouds. Somehow they migrated to the centre of the bed. The lids of her eyes feel heavy, either with arousal or exhaustion from the two mind-bending orgasms Wonyoung delivered in succession. She gazes blankly to her left where Wonyoung lies.
It’s hard to believe anything that’s happening: Wonyoung’s heaving chest glimmering with a sheen of sweat; lips a pinkish-red and puffy from their heated and prolonged kisses; the way she licks her fingers clean like it’s nothing, humming at the taste.
Wonyoung drops her head to the side, catching Yujin’s noodle-like body in an awe-stricken stare. “Tired?”
“No,” she lies, rolling to seal Wonyoung’s lips into an airlocked kiss. It’s languid and Wonyoung smiles into it, dropping her head to the other side to escape.
“Liar.” Wonyoung shifts, scooting closer and forcing Yujin to lie flat by the ball of her shoulder. One leg swings over Yujin’s waist and the other stays on the right, naked weight settling on Yujin’s stomach. Wonyoung sighs at the relief of her heat touching taut muscle, lips quivering.
One rock of her hips and she shivers, holding Yujin’s newly wide-eyed gaze with an unmatched sensuality. The glide of her slickness is felt intensely by Yujin, like burning hot wax being poured on her belly, a frictionless grind.
“Fuck, Yujin—shit.” Wonyoung’s voice is high and loud, one arm back on Yujin’s thigh for support and the other working her own nipple to a hardened peak. “You’re so fucking hot.”
Me?
Wonyoung is the goddess here, fucking Yujin’s line-abs and moaning like… well, a pornstar. But it’s far from fake. She’s visibly lost in the pleasure, eyes snapping shut, head thrown back, as she cants her hips, drawing pleasure from Yujin’s clammy muscular skin.
Yujin isn’t sure when it happened, but she’s holding Wonyoung’s hips now, watching Wonyoung devolve into a mess of wet thrusts and whines from her comfortable spot on the bed. The rustling of the sheets beneath them and their breaths are all that fills the air, because Wonyoung’s movements are spreading slickness all over but since Yujin is flat it doesn’t make much of a noise. She can’t decide if that’s better or worse for her sanity.
Yujin can’t look away and Wonyoung tries not to, either. The redness on Wonyoung’s chest seems to get darker and spread further up her neck as she rocks and rocks herself into a higher state of bliss. It reaches the apples of her cheeks, which were a light pink but now certainly appear brighter.
Wonyoung lets go of Yujin’s thigh to drop forward, cunt now grinding on Yujin’s thigh so they can kiss. The new angle makes her moan shakily into Yujin’s mouth, their tongues dancing, each downward stroke of her hips more emphasised and drawn out to better catch her clit. Her arms both hook behind Yujin, in the gap between her neck and the bed, lifting her head ever so lightly.
“You don’t know what you do to me.” Wonyoung sounds close to reaching her peak, her voice strained upward, but Yujin supposes she wouldn’t know. She moans into the crook of Yujin’s neck, a whiny sound. “I-It’s too much–fuck. If you keep looking at me like that we’ll be here forever, Yujin, I won’t stop. You did it on set you—”
Wonyoung’s breath hitches for a moment, hips speeding up, and Yujin digs her fingers into Wonyoung’s hips harder because she needs something to keep her grounded on Earth. Because she can feel it all so viscerally. Wonyoung’s breasts press against her own. In Wonyoung’s grinding, the desperation to reach her peak. How on every downward stroke of her hips she’s so forceful now, hurrying to perform the next in quick succession, and she cries out when Yujin thinks to tense her thigh.
“You made me come so hard, Yujin, I’ve never come like that on camera before, I - fuck. And the way you got flustered and couldn’t look at me only turned me on more. I wanted to force you to keep looking, but you did and it was too much, but I-I like it, Yujin, it felt so good when—I—” She leaves the memory and bursts back into the present. “I-I’m—”
Wonyoung jerks hard, the dirtiest sounds pouring from her perfect lips, smooth like the finest of wines by the time they reach Yujin’s blessed ears. Yujin’s hands slide up Wonyoung’s body, one stopping to mould a breast into the shape of her palm while the other snakes to her nape to guide them into a kiss, because (as far as Yujin can tell) the walls aren’t soundproof. And Wonyoung is crying out at noise-complaint levels.
Somehow, the sound of her moans is different from in front of the cameras. Not only are they more desperate, but the curses she lets slip are interspersed with Yujin’s name and said with far more reverence, which urges Yujin to deepen the kiss.
Now, Wonyoung is the noodle, hardly able to kiss back, and Yujin seizes the opportunity to control the kiss, slipping her tongue inside. Wonyoung fights for only a moment before she lets Yujin fully in, so Yujin’s tongue is doing most of the work and Wonyoung is groaning into her lips, thighs and whole body trembling often from the aftershocks.
Wonyoung’s breast fits perfectly in her hand, not too much but not too little—modest—and she can feel the nipple still pebbled against her palm. When she swipes her thumb across, Wonyoung keens into her hand, whining softly, a breathless plea.
She likes this. It was quite obvious in the bathroom what Wonyoung preferred—by how she described what she thought about doing with Yujin—and even moments ago when she said she likes Yujin looking at her. Without fully understanding, Yujin resolves to flip them, to kiss Wonyoung into the mattress instead of from it.
Yujin dips into the crook of her neck, kissing, biting, sucking, anything to give Wonyoung a chance to breathe and recover. She tastes salty but smells sweet, some perfume.
After a couple of minutes and her pulse point thoroughly tongued, Wonyoung is squirming. “I want your mouth, Yujin.” She tangles a hand in Yujin’s hair and pushes her lower. So straightforward it makes Yujin flare up. “Please. Need your tongue inside me.”
Yujin complies, dipping down. Wonyoung’s legs part to make room for her, heavy sighs reaching Yujin’s ears, ragged and building in anticipation. She tries not to let Wonyoung’s clear expectations scare her by taking in the scent of her arousal, which adds kindling to a fire but can’t distract her enough.
It’s not that she hasn’t done it before. She’s done this countless times with someone else, so the anatomy is all the same, except she still doesn’t want to be a letdown. If she leaves Wonyoung disappointed, all her chances of hooking up with her again are gone, and that’s the last thing Yujin wants. Because Wonyoung is a professional. A very stunning one at that. Way too good for someone like Yujin.
“Yujin.” Wonyoung has her attention. “Do anything. I’ll come for you, I promise.” It must be obvious where Yujin’s worries lie. “Just go fast.”
A moan tears from Wonyoung’s throat when Yujin simply slides her tongue into her, no attempt at going slow, because that would leave room for awkwardness—more mistakes. Like ripping off a bandaid, she moves her thumb to expose Wonyoung’s clit, thumbing the base of it to see her reaction. When her back arches and she lets out a grumbling groan of satisfaction, Yujin strokes the bud, alternating between broad passes and tight circles. Hard and fast. Very fast, as instructed.
Inside, her tongue works Wonyoung open, poking and prodding her velvety walls. Yujin’s face is already coated in Wonyoung's plentiful arousal, the same arousal that slid against her stomach not so long ago, and the taste is so strongly sexual that Yujin feels herself throb harder the longer she wiggles her tongue around.
Wonyoung keeps her promise, second climax crashing into her like a freight train, as quick and fast as Yujin is being. She digs blunt nails into Yujin’s scalp and shouts Yujin’s name. Her back arches so much harder, so high in tension that it seems painful, but it rises and falls with each shiver without issue. Yujin keeps gentle pressure on her clit until she’s being yanked up into a kiss. Wonyoung moans at the taste of herself, her stray hand joining the other to weave fingers in Yujin’s unruly hair.
They’re a sweaty tangle of limbs and weighted breathing. Yujin pulls away first because Wonyoung keeps kissing her despite needing to gasp for air between each one.
“Don’t stop,” Wonyoung pants when Yujin sits up, a hand tugging her right back down. Their bodies were flush once more. The need for air doesn’t stop Wonyoung from speaking. “Lick my tits, or something.”
Yujin huffs a laugh from her nose.
“What?” Wonyoung asks, genuinely clueless. “Too much?”
“No.” Yujin was tired, but now she doesn’t want to stop seeing Wonyoung fall apart like that. If she can never leave this bed… that would be fine. She kisses Wonyoung's chest, between her breasts, one hand nudging into the small of her back while the other cups the breast further from her approaching lips.
“What is it then?” Wonyoung caught her breath well enough to continue, a teasing lilt to her voice, “Is this funny to you?”
“You're just… vulgar.”
“Well, we're fucking. What do you expect me to say?”
“Nothing.”
Yujin mirrors what Wonyoung did earlier, circling her tongue around, careful to avoid the hardened centres. She switches to kissing again, wetter this time—more promise, less fulfilment.
Wonyoung lets out a shakier breath. “You want me to shut up then?”
“No. I mean I didn’t expect anything.”
“You didn’t know what to expect from a stranger?”
Yujin hums in confirmation and satisfaction that Wonyoung remembers her earlier words. She isn’t sure she could say the same in Wonyoung’s shoes, since their moments leading up to now haven’t exactly had Yujin in the most clear state of mind.
“You don’t seem like a virgin, Yujin.” Wonyoung sounds far breathier now, a hand in Yujin’s hair tightening, but she’s far from embarrassed by it. If anything it seems like she’s trying to show it off by droning on again. “You don’t tonguefuck like one, at least. Unless you practise on cups of pudding, or something.”
Yujin huffs in amusement again because her mouth is too busy for a real laugh, everything feeling light: her head; her chest; and the air she blows from her lips onto Wonyoung’s nipple, eliciting an inward twitch of Wonyoung’s thighs.
“Not a virgin,” she confirms, returning to her teasing right after.
“Clearly.”
Wonyoung sighs in satisfaction, relaxing under a hand Yujin splays across her ribs, pushing up to cup her breast.
Wonyoung pushes her bangs out of the way, exposing her forehead for a few seconds before combing her fingers through the short strands of hair. Instead of being interviewed about her sex life, Yujin opts to finally flick forward into her nipple. The hand Wonyoung isn’t using to play around at the crown of her head slides to her nape, keeping her close as she continues flicking her tongue over the sensitive bud, passing her thumb over the other in time.
“Look at me.” Wonyoung’s voice is somehow steady and wobbly at the same time, both clear and muddled. “It really turns me on.”
“As you’ve said.” In excruciating detail…
“If you remember then look at me more. I want to see your face.”
She traces the shell of Yujin’s ear, sighing when Yujin uses the tip of her tongue to flutter over the bud because it’s easier to maintain eye contact at this particular angle. But the prolonged nature of Wonyoung’s eyes on her coupled with what they’re doing returns a more noticeable tinge to Yujin’s cheeks.
“God, you’re killing me,” Wonyoung starts up again, seemingly unable to shut up. And her eyes are more heavily lidded, the same darkness swirling around. Wonyoung wriggles slightly, thighs pressing in for much-needed relief, and asks like a frustrated complaint, “Why are you blushing? It’s really riling me up too fast.”
Yujin breaks her eyes away, capturing Wonyoung’s nipple between her teeth instead, pinching the other with the hand previously used to gently pass over it. She can’t look at Wonyoung when she says something like that, so unabashed it makes Yujin’s chest tighten.
“Fuck!” Wonyoung’s chest bows into her touches, lips and fingers rubbing up and down her stiff peaks. “You’re shy,” she says with no curiosity—a simple fact. “It’s cute. You—”
If she’s trying to get Yujin to do it again—it works. Yujin pinches and bites again, hoping Wonyoung will shut up for good. Now the tips of her ears are red too. Wonyoung is tracing them with trembling fingers in no time, a smile in her voice when she begins to ramble yet again.
“You don’t look like you’d be shy. You’re so hot and sexy, but you get flustered over nothing.”
Yujin pulls away, mostly in shock, halting all pleasure. “Over nothing?”
If this isn’t it, what constitutes being flustered in Wonyoung’s book?
“Don’t stop,” she whines, biting her lip, forcing Yujin’s gaze to flicker away to return to the task at hand (and mouth) again.
Wonyoung seems more amused by her complicity than satisfied. “Look at me.”
For the first time in the night, Yujin doesn’t listen.
“I’m so serious, Yujin. I need your eyes on me. I could come if you just looked at me and—ah,” she breaks off when Yujin places her lips around the nipple she has been giving such rapt attention to, quickly sucking as hard as she can. To ensure Wonyoung’s indefinite shutting up on the matter, she slips a hand between Wonyoung’s legs and slides up into her clit, pressing the pad of her thumb down into it.
Soon enough, Wonyoung’s dictionary narrows to single curses, praises, pleads, and names. Yujin’s name. She’s shaking beneath Yujin, as loud as before, and careening into every point of contact, desperate for more, only to flip them when Yujin tries to provide it.
They go back and forth like this, an orgasm for or an orgasm—quid pro quo—until Yuin sees static. Then nothing at all.
…
Yujin blinks awake to soft rays of sunlight, but she’s used to it. Her dorm lets in so much light her circadian rhythm has long been fucked from all positions, several times, so that’s not what wakes her. It’s the ball of heat boring into half her body.
Wonyoung is half on top of her, breathing softly into the crook of her neck, latching on like Yujin is Caesium and she is fluoride. Together, the elements form the strongest ionic bond, and the only way to separate them is through dissolution. But she and Wonyoung aren’t elements. So she doesn’t try that.
Yujin takes a good look at Wonyoung instead, all cuddled up into her side like she’s a body pillow, hair tousled, hickies along the curve of her breast and the side of her neck. She finds herself very grateful she can get a good look without being assaulted by Wonyoung’s powerful eyes, as hot and heavy as her body.
She hadn’t slept for long, because if it was Wonyoung’s body heat that woke her up, it would’ve taken no more than an hour to get to that point. So they stopped just before the sun came up.
Wonyoung stirs, squeezing the arms she has around Yujin’s waist before narrowly cracking her eyes open. “Oh,” she says, the word scratchy. “Sorry.”
Yujin isn’t sure where it comes from or why, but while Wonyoung is pulling away she says, “Wonyoung,” as if there’s anyone else to be addressed.
“Hm?” The sheet falls off her body as she spins around and Yujin bites the inside of her cheek. Not a dream. “If you’re about to propose morning sex, I’m not opposed, just busy today.”
Luckily, Yujin doesn’t have to say it. Wonyoung spins around on her knees and does it for her. “But you can come over this weekend. I’m free on Friday.”
It's less what Wonyoung says and more what she looks like without clothes, in broad daylight, that returns the rosy hue to Yujin’s cheeks. Her syrupy brown eyes don’t help one bit.
“Stop.” Wonyoung takes the silky pillow she didn’t lay on (because she was mostly lying on Yujin, on her shoulder) and slaps Yujin in the face with it. “I’ll pounce on you.”
It only makes things worse in terms of saturation, so Yujin lets the silky pillow sit on her face as she hears Wonyoung shuffling around.
“I’m busy Friday,” Yujin says, muffled, which is a lie, but she doesn’t want Wonyoung to think she’s too free. It's best to make her social life seem less abysmal than it truly is.
“Oh.” Wonyoung doesn’t bother hiding her disappointment. “What days work for you then?” she insists (thank god). “I’m mostly busy on weekends.”
“Mostly…?”
Yujin has class every day of the week except Fridays and Tuesdays, but since Friday isn’t a possibility anymore she would rather see Wonyoung sooner than Tuesday. But if the weekend is truly out, she wishes she hadn’t lied.
The pillow gets taken away from Yujin’s face and Wonyong is looking down at her with a neon pink t-shirt covering her upper body.
“I work a lot on weekends.”
Yujin’s skin had a competition with Wonyoung’s shirt over which can be brighter. “Oh.”
“But I guess you can come, I’ll just be a little worn out already.” Right. Because Wonyoung’s work is tiring.
“It’s fine.”
“No, come. It’ll be fine if you act like this,” Wonyoung pivots, putting a palm on either one of Yujin’s cheeks, grinning when Yujin looks away and back because she can’t hold the gaze. “Just text me.” Before Yujin can even say yes or no (yes), Wonyoung slides her hands down and leans in, kissing down the column of her throat. “I have some time, actually,” she adds.
From there, Yujin’s morning is truly eventful for the first time in forever.
…
She hasn’t heard Rei squeal in at least five years, but that’s what she does when Yujin appears in front of her. The librarian shelving books to their right tosses them a glare. Rei disregards it to clap like a seal.
“You’re late and you have a hickey.” Her eyes shamelessly rake over the marks. She clarifies, “Multiple hickies.”
Yujin plops her bag on the ground, textbook thudding on the table. She falls into the chair, exhausted from not only Wonyoung this morning, but also rushing to the library to meet Rei for their “study group” (which is just an excuse to whisper gossip over the table).
“So, those look fresh. Did your pornstar bang you this—”
Yujin throws a pen at her face because her loud ass is drawing multiple eyes now, not just the agitated librarian’s. “Rei,” she warns.
“Fine.” Rei whispers now. “But how was it? Did you get her number or did it suck? I want all the details.”
“She gave me her number.”
Rei leans closer, an amused smile on her face. “That’s all you have to say? This is your chance to brag, you know. You’re supposed to say, ‘Rei, you can’t make fun of me anymore, I get more bitches than you.’”
She disregards the poor imitation and clenches her jaw. “She’s not a bitch.”
“What?” Rei’s eyes narrow, arms crossing dramatically. “Don’t tell me you like her? You fucked her one time, Yujin, you can’t catch feelings for a hook-up. It’s a recipe for disaster.”
“I’m just saying she’s not a bitch.”
“That’s not what you were saying, but I’ll let it slide.” Rei takes the pencil Yujin threw at her and tosses it back. It lands in the spine of Yujin’s book, distracting her from her fake reading of whatever random page she’s open to. “So you never answered me. How was it?”
Rei is immune to being amused by Yujin’s flustered state because there’s always something flustering her.
“Good, obviously,” Yujin mumbles, moving the pencil out of her way.
“Was she good or was it good? Why aren’t you elaborating?”
“Because it’s weird to say.”
“You’re making it weird, Yujin. It’s not some personal tantric experience, just sex. By not telling me about it you’re making it into something it isn’t, far more intimate.”
“What? No. It wasn’t like that.” There was zero intimacy in the way they took each other repeatedly until almost daybreak. She leans against the heel of her palm, elbow on the table to stabilise it. “It’s just that the details of my sex life are not your business.”
When memories come flashing back, she makes it a point to avoid looking at Rei, who will certainly notice her eyes darkening. Wonyoung’s body does, in fact, occupy the space behind her eyelids. In the hanging silence is the sound of her voice, smooth with words dirtier than the bottom of a shoe. The thoughts alone make goosebumps pebble every inch of her skin.
“Well, maybe it should be, because I can guarantee you sex isn't personal to her. All you're doing is making things harder on yourself.”
Yujin ignores her because not only does Rei have no idea what she’s talking about, but it’s also Wednesday and she has a test tomorrow, which needs to be studied for. Then she gets to spend Friday regretting her lie about having plans.
…
She’s fairly certain she only got one wrong on her Molecular Spectroscopy exam and is still dwelling on whether number twenty-seven was A or C when her phone vibrates in her pocket. Her assumption is that it’s Rei asking why she’s late to the library again, which would simply be because Rei forgot Yujin had the exam at all, and she even has a reply ready, but it’s not Rei at all.
It’s only Friday.
Wonyoung [now]: busy tonight?
Yujin stares at the message, frozen on the path to the library, blinking owlishly at the grey bubble on her screen. Three dots appear, disappear, and appear again.
Yujin: Studying for a final Monday.
Wonyoung [now]: that’s what the weekends for ;(
Yujin only types out a quick, “Sorry,” before making her way down the path, ignoring her phone for the whole journey until she’s across from Rei. It’s somewhat of a routine to study here—because sometimes they actually do study—but it’s also a lot of tuning out Rei’s chatter while reading from her book or doing practice questions.
Luckily Rei is engrossed in her anatomically accurate heart diagram and may or may not even notice Yujin has sat down, so Yujin pulls out all her things, including her phone to set a time, only to be violently assaulted by new messages. She chokes on air when taking a glance, quickly recovering and waving it off as nothing when Rei shoots her a raised brow.
Wonyoung [12:10]: nooo
Wonyoung [12:10]: please
Wonyoung [12:10]: Yujin?
Wonyoung [12:11]: pleaseee
Wonyoung [12:11]: I want you here
Wonyoung [12:11]: I need you :(((
Wonyoung [12:16]: Attachment: 1 Image
Wonyoung sent a live photo wearing something silky, lacy, rosy pink, and expensive-looking. It’s a slip that barely passes the tops of her thighs. She’s lying down, angling the camera so it only shows her body against familiar sheets, skin impossibly pale and shiny in the afternoon light. A finger looks to be tracing the hem, and Yujin races to lower her brightness and volume (just in case) to click and hold down the image.
Wonyoung’s fingers slip beneath the hem but that’s all before it’s cut. She hasn’t sent another message, either.
This strange feeling corrupts Yujin’s mind, making everything tingle. It’s more than arousal. The first thought that crosses her mind is how natural it seems for Wonyoung, like she’s done it a million times before, because she probably has, yet Yujin has this idiotic part of her mind telling her this is different. There are a million sexy, scandalous pictures of Wonyoung’s body on Twitter and every other site, but this one is new. This one isn't Vicky. It's Wonyoung. And it won’t be seen by anyone else. Her hands shake as she saves it in a secret folder hurriedly entitled, “ahdhsj”.
She shuts her textbook. “I left my stove on.”
“Ok.” Rei isn’t even listening. She’s busy cramming for a test she has in a few hours. “See ya.”
Whether or not her stove is on, something is on fire, because Wonyoung is dangerous.
Yujin: What’s your address?
Wonyoung replies instantly.