say the quiet thing out loud

Here’s the thing:

Having a crush and being in love are two points on a spectrum, but only hypothetically. Two points on opposite ends of a line, except Jisu never was good at sticking to the straight line, and her feelings for Minhee grew enough to take the form of one perfect circle. An ouroboros. To crush on and to love—heads or tails? Even Jisu doesn’t know—she loses her head and bites her own tail, foolish in her ignorance of the fact that there’s supposed to be a line. Some lines shouldn’t be crossed, but tell that to the little snakes that rule Jisu’s heart.

OR: Three stops on the road to Han Jisu finally giving in.

Notes:

A few words: I will be honest when I say that for a large part of my teenage life, I used to avoid lesbian media because I thought it got too close to comfort to my real life experience (with the exception of music). A younger version of me would have never imagined that her first long-form work of fiction would be friends to lovers peppered with omegaverse and freak nasty lesbian sex, but I love surprises!
It has been so nice to write about women in the vein of tropes and traditions (and dynamics ;)) that have given birth to so many of my favourite fics over the years. I hope that you enjoy this, and if you do—let me know!
Thank you to my beta, mo, who has been around for these lesbians as they went from one word to so much more. I have historically been very reluctant about letting people into a piece I’m still working on (read: I have never done that) so this was a wonderful experience in holding hands and doing what you love together (i.e.: thirsting for hot women on a Tuesday afternoon).
Thank you to Kehlani, who put out a song while I was writing this fic. It felt like a sign from the universe that this…is what I am meant to be doing.
This fic is written for Han Jisung Bingo for the following fills:
college/university au, slick eating, bottom Han Jisung, “it won’t fit”, possessive omega, heat/rut, size kink
The epigraph of this fic is an excerpt from Emily Dickinson’s I have never seen "Volcanoes" and HAN’s Volcano
The playlist for this fic features sapphic artists only and I highly recommend it if you like listening to music while you read <3

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: hesitating

Chapter Text

I have never seen "Volcanoes" —

[you can hurt me, I don't care]

But, when Travellers tell

How those old — phlegmatic mountains

Usually so still —

[you can burn me]

Bear within — appalling Ordnance,

Fire, and smoke, and gun

[Take me to you, way below to the end of the ground]

I need your heat, you are my volcano.

Jisu has always had a bit of a crush on her best friend.

It’s been brushed to the side, of course. Dismissed as just another very natural emotion for her to feel after spending so much time in the proximity of an insanely hot gay girl.

A hot gay girl who’s an alpha—as if the cherry on top didn’t already exist by virtue of Minhee’s existence.

When they first met, Jisu was a too-talkative second year taking the same queer theory elective as Minhee, who was nearing the end of her time on campus.

Decked out in her cutest earrings—a grand piano hanging off one ear and an electric guitar on the other—and years-old converse that have carried her through much of life, she walked into that first lecture ready to conquer the world and come out unscathed, and maybe even make a rainbow coloured connection or two.

“Do you really think taking queer theory will get you a girlfriend, Jisu-yah? They’re going to be up Judith Butler’s ass! No one has game in academia!”

Felix gasps and puts their hands on their hips—affronted. “Hater! Your hater energy is stifling, Jinnie. Let the girl live!”

Lifting an accusatory finger at Hyunjin already, “First off, academia is hot. So what if she wants to dress a little slutty for her first class. We need to support the women in our lives. You are such a homophob–”

“I’m gay! The only reason you’re defending this is because Chris is an academia nerd. I know you agree. I know you do. You went off on someone on Twitter because they wouldn’t stop giving you useless academic commentary under that one caitvi art you made.” Hyunjin wrings his hands in the air, eyebrows drawn together to emphasise his point.

“How dare you. Is it my fault if people can’t take a woman getting strapped down by another woman for what it looks like? Like—oh, this one’s cute, Jisu, hold it up for me—some things are meant to never inspire think pieces! Ten reasons we should honour the female gaze my ass—”

They huff, and Hyunjin and Jisu break into giggles.

Hyunjin doesn’t stop, smacking Jisu’s knee as he breaks down at their overly perturbed expression.

“Also, plenty of hot and non-academic butches will enrolled in queer theory. God, Jinnie. Get it together.”

Jisu watches them go back and forth for the next fifteen minutes, each holding several pieces of clothing that could come to be her outfit.

Was it a little excessive to call over the two best-dressed friends she had for this? Maybe.

But, consider: her class was in the late afternoon anyways, so she had nothing to lose. Sue her, she wanted to look good for a potential future wife sighting.

In the end, she settled with a sage green top with bell sleeves; the one that always made Felix tell her how much she looks like a fairy, and a complementary pink skirt, flowy with scraps of fabric artfully hanging off of it, which she only has access to courtesy of Hyunjin.

“I know this skirt looks good because I made it. So. There you go. You have my blessing. Go forth and seduce everyone in that godforsaken Faculty of Arts basement,” he grumbles, pushing Jisu towards the bathroom to change, already. You’re getting late.

Entering the lecture hall, she takes a seat near the edge of the front row, knowing that if she sat behind this point she would freak out at the heads turning to look at her if she decided to speak—unlikely, but she feels a little bit more calm to have prepared for the possibility.

When the lecture starts gearing up towards introductions, a rustle of movement makes her eyes trail away from the sweet purple haired professor leading the discussion.

And then they just never trail back.

Shoulders.

Offensively sculpted and framed—like gold borders around paintings passed down between generations—by understated, irresistible strength and cut-off sleeves of one of those plain black t-shirts that look good from every angle.

The latecomer has a backpack on and arms tensed to reveal lines created by muscle that she didn’t even know could exist . Those arms move, quick and self-assured, to catch the bag before it falls off capable shoulders.

The hard lines dissolve into softness once the arm candy relaxes, abruptly reminding Jisu that she’s been staring.

She doesn’t get much time to reorient herself before Hot Shoulders is sliding into the seat next to her. Now she really can’t focus.

In between quick glances, she sees a tattoo on the stranger’s forearm, shoulder length hair cut in messy layers, and thighs that strain against cargo pants as her seat neighbour sits back, getting comfortable by spreading them enough to make saliva pool in Jisu’s mouth.

Before she can look away and save herself from being caught red-handed, her seat neighbour’s right hand—closest to her—lifts from the table and reaches towards Jisu’s general direction.

Jisu widens her eyes before the hand reroutes to the space between their chairs and lifts a stray piece of fabric from Jisu’s skirt that had been lying entangled across the stranger’s seat.

Is it normal for Jisu to be jealous of how much contact an unruly scrap of her own outfit is making with those thighs? Surely not.

Rolling the pink cloth around short, ring-clad fingers, her seatmate deposits the stray part of her skirt back to the space below Jisu’s seat.

Jisu looks back up and mouths a quick, bashful thank you to the stranger, who only gives her a kind smile before turning towards the front of the room.

Jisu tries to listen to what their lecturer is saying over the butterflies zig-zagging around her stomach, body thrumming with energy at being the subject of an intimidatingly hot person’s attention.

After class, when she meets a gently amused gaze with a jittery voice and not enough bravery to make sustained eye contact, she learns that the newly crowned panty dropper of queer theory has a name—Minhee.

They talk, and Jisu’s teeth chatter in the silences because she’s so nervous. Nevertheless—she is committed to not allowing the conversation to fizzle out.

“I’m Han Jisu, by the way. You can speak informally with me,” she says with a smile that must look more confident than she feels.

“Thank you for rescuing my skirt before I accidentally tore it. My friend would kill me,” she continues, voice only a little shaky and mouth half-open in sudden remembrance.

“Jisu,” Minhee repeats, like she’s testing how the name sits in her mouth.

“I like your name. You don’t need to thank me. I meant to tell you, but we didn’t get a break—your outfit…it’s really pretty. I’ve always loved those colours together.”

Jisu flushes a light pink under the quick up-and-down sweep of Minhee’s gaze.

“You look like a princess with that skirt on. I’m happy to be of service, your highness,” Minhee says, bowing lightly with her lips caught between her teeth. A giggle escapes anyways, and Jisu is hopelessly endeared.

“Thank you!” Jisu beams, regaining her balance in the conversation, holding on to Minhee’s sweet smile to guide her through it. “Are those your cats?”

Minhee isn’t all that intimidating now, actually.

She has cat stickers—customised ones, she learns—at the back of her phone and a laptop case covered with references that Jisu only partly recognises. Her eyes crinkle when she talks about her cats, and it’s hard not to want to squish her face. She’s cute.

Minhee presses her lips in an embarrassed grin, clearing her throat when she locks eyes with Jisu. They’re closer now, leaning into each other’s space to look into Minhee’s phone screen alit with a folder full of the cutest cats Jisu has ever seen.

“Tell me if you’re getting bored,” she lightly huffs. “You asked about my babies and I tend to get carried away when pretty girls want to see them.”

Jisu pinkens at the casual compliment. “Oh—what? Uhm–of course not, Minhee. Not bored at all! Your cats are so cute–”

Then, a bit delayed.

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re beautiful, Jisu. And that’s Minhee-unnie to you, you mentioned that you’re a second-year. I’m sure I’m older,” she says, narrowing her gaze.

There’s still playfulness in her eyes, though, and Jisu’s so attracted to everything about the woman that she’s gripped by the urge to want to push her buttons. Get her back for being so frustratingly easy on the eyes.

“Assumptions, assumptions. Who says I’m not older?” Jisu asks.

Minhee turns to look at her, doubtful. Jisu cracks. “Fine. I'm not older.”

“But—you’ll have to work hard to become my unnie, Minhee.” Tongue in cheek, smile too big for her words to be anything but light-hearted.

Minhee cocks her eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Not intimidating, but still so hot—Jisu is trying not to ponder on the way Minhee’s face is carved by a higher power, beautiful from every angle, to save herself from tripping over her words in front of the prettiest person she’s ever seen.

Minhee takes Jisu’s phone out of her hand, leaving a little spark behind when their fingers brush, and does Jisu the favour of putting her number in.

“I’ll text you, if that’s okay? And if you need someone to protect you from outfit malfunctions ever again, well, I’m at your service, princess,” Minhee says with a cheeky grin.

She meets Jisu’s wide eyed stare self-assuredly. Like she knows the effect that she’s having.

Jisu nods, maybe too eagerly.

Jisu

Today 15:34

I just met the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my life

Jeonginnie

gay ass

this is why u ditched me for this semester’s comp class

you said that about every woman that walked past you last weekend

Jisu

It’s different

You don’t understand innie

She …….

Jeonginnie

did you talk to her at least

Jisu

I even got her number bitch

sheehrjdjfjfjf she called me princess AhahhhhaHHHHHHH

Jeonginnie

OH that’s historic actually

ok I’ll pencil in the wedding date for may this year

Everything after that is a slow crawl, trickling down Jisu’s body like a caress.

Waking up to texts from Minhee asking if she would want to meet for coffee before class, meeting between lectures to lie on the grass and people watch until they make up stories for strangers’ lives so ridiculous that they’re curling into each other with laughter, and evenings spent at each other’s place, wrapped up in togetherness.

Sometimes, the motion picture of them—falling into friendship—pauses.

Like the first time Minhee sees Jisu’s hair obscuring her face and pushes it behind her ear, trailing her fingers down her dangly earrings and making Jisu a little weak in the knees.

Or when Jisu and Minhee were still new to sleeping over at each other’s and Minhee scented Jisu for the first time, nosing below her jaw and pressing into her neck, infusing the air with a symphony. Chocolate-covered strawberries (what Jisu would have given, right then, to be covered head to toe in that scent. To belong to Minhee).

Or now: Jisu tracks the lack of exertion on Minhee’s body while they try to change the layout of their apartment. So many months into living together, and still can’t decide where everything should go.

Effortlessly moving desks and beds; not breaking a sweat. She sits on the couch in uncharacteristic silence, legs crossed involuntarily as she watches Minhee rebuild a shelf that they had to disassemble because it would look better in the living room.

Jisu had tried to help, only to get a “sit down, Hannie. Let unnie handle this, hm?” as a response.

Jisu tries very hard to not let those words get to her jumbled-up brain, frail with want, but.

The sight in front of her right now is taking her places she tries to avoid. Desperately.

Minhee’s lips caught in concentration between her teeth and her expert fingers handling furniture pieces are doing things to Jisu.

She mirrors her best friend as she clamps down on her own bottom lip, trying to hold in sounds that may come out. Minhee, seated on one of the dining table chairs with a half-built shelf in front of her, spreads her legs to make room for what she’s building.

When Minhee takes a loose screw and starts turning it, Jisu’s entranced by the veins popping out from the back of her hand, visibly drawing lines that Jisu wants to map out with her tongue.

Frankly speaking, it would be oh-so-predictable if one or both of them had a crush on each other. And it would be ideal if it was a requited love.

But with three years into an unbreakable bond and—now—a shared apartment together, Jisu thinks that if something was bound to happen, it would have.

It could have happened, over an open bottle of wine and midnight hours, where the world would be Minhee, Jisu, and the shitty movies they always seem to be watching.

There was this one time that Jisu thought it might have happened. On the precipice of a new chapter: Minhee’s graduation day.

Jisu had never had a knack for organising, which is why the days leading up to Minhee’s graduation felt like the eve of maybe the biggest event she had ever been in charge of planning.

Many months ago, after Minhee had told her with sparkly eyes that she had met all her requirements to graduate and that the team she worked with in the summer wanted her to join their troupe professionally, Jisu shrieked and jumped into Minhee’s arms with a million words of congratulations.

Ever since then, a quarter of her brain has been dedicated to planning: how does one celebrate Lee Minhee the way she deserves?

In class and making group chats even though it makes her break out in nervous sweats, between studio sessions and making sure Chan is buying the right kind of balloons to decorate Minhee’s then-dorm room.

“Do you think Minhee-unnie wants all this for herself, though? She doesn’t seem like the type to like all that attention on her,” Felix asked Jisu, their eyebrows creased in concern at the state of Jisu—in the middle of creating a custom graphic for Minhee’s cake, staring at the screen with concerningly unblinking eyes.

Jisu takes a break from having her eyes glued to the screen and pictures, beneath her eyelids, the way Minhee’s cheeks pinkened the first time Jisu gave her a gift.

She’ll never forget the way that Minhee didn’t know what to do when Jisu took out a keychain shaped like Soonie, Doongie, and Dori’s cute little faces and hooked it onto her bag.

“There. Now people can actually tell this plain, boring black backpack belongs to someone, unnie.”

The way Minhee was only able to get a choked up sound out before she had to gulp down 3 glasses of water, and how her ears didn’t stop burning up in shades of red until the end of that night, when she dragged Jisu to bed with her—ignoring protests about their very different bedtimes—and cuddled her, pressing their bodies together until everything Jisu could touch, sense, smell, and taste was strawberry-tinted.

Jisu slept like a baby that night.

“Lixieeee,” she drawls. “Don’t you trust the one and only walking, talking Lee Minhee encyclopaedia?” Jisu wiggled her eyebrows, unrelenting at Felix’s incredulous stare.

Then, like it’s a cut-off thought, “—she’ll want this.”

Turns out, she did want this—and all of the attention that came with it.

Later that day, when Minhee gets back to her dorm room cloaked by a graduation robe and flushed with the joy that only a day full of celebration can bring, Jisu’s right behind her. Suddenly, she remembers that she needs to stall so that everyone finishes setting up inside. Fuck.

She stops Minhee at the door, physically blocking her from pushing it open. Averts her gaze, unable to make more than two seconds of sustained eye contact without giving everything away.

“Jisu-yah.” Minhee giggles and searches Jisu’s face like she knows exactly what’s going on. She probably does.

Minhee takes her hand off the door and instead wraps it around Jisu’s waist. Everything stops. Jisu suddenly doesn’t care much about making sure that the gathering of friends and family are waiting behind the door.

Not just yet, she thinks. She’ll keep the door closed for just a little bit more. Jisu wants a moment of them before everyone else gets to have a piece of the star of the show.

Looking at Minhee with her face glowing under the unflattering white light bulbs of the entryway, Jisu loses herself.

No party, no time. No audience behind a closed door.

She doesn’t know what her own face is doing, but it has to be caught in some kind of awestruck shape at the sight in front of her: Minhee’s eyes twinkling, melting into crescents of fondness.

Face shiny with a sheen of exertion, working better than the palette of glitter eyeshadow Jisu had used to do Minhee’s graduation makeup for her.

Lips upturned, drawing Jisu’s eyes to faded lipstick and a want that’s been building up for a long, long time. At first sight. Deeper still, at first touch. Irreplaceable, now, then, there, here. Woven into Jisu like she was born with it.

For a moment—between time; suspended—she sees it all reflected back at her. The shyness of desire, sneaking up on both of them. At each other’s shoulders, sharing the same breath.

Closer still, and Jisu’s hands are dangerously on the verge of touching. Breaking the barrier.

Closer still, and Minhee completes the sentence Jisu starts writing. Takes her hand and pulls until they’re wrapped up in a half-embrace, heads drawn back and eyes trailing over faces.

The next sentence they write is a question. Heads tilted in opposite directions and eyes locked together, swimming in the cold waters of uncertainty and then drying off with anticipation.

It crackles in the air—this unspoken ask.

Jisu always wants to kiss Minhee. She just never thought Minhee wanted to kiss her back. Suspended in this moment, though, she thinks otherwise. It has to be. It can’t be anything else.

Buzz. Lips almost touching, [Buzz] fingers holding on to each other’s.

Jisu’s phone buzzes a third time.

A phone call from Felix, she’s sure, who was instructed to call her if she takes too much time bringing Minhee back.

Buzz. Sound cuts through closeness and the almost there so cruelly that Jisu has to take a step back from the make believe.

One blink and she remembers where she is, who she’s doing this for. Minhee has a surprise party to get to.

Two blinks and she remembers that Minhee is her best friend, and it doesn’t matter what Jisu wants as long as Minhee is happy and loved.

Three blinks and she meets Minhee’s confused stare, looks at her fingers twitch, and thinks about how easily Jisu could have ruined everything if she gave in to what she really wanted.

“What’s wrong?” Minhee is a picture of worry.

“Nothing, baby,” Jisu whispers back, voice barely stable. “I’m so proud of you,” she brushes a stray hair behind Minhee’s ear only for it to unfurl again, under her touch. Her layers were always too short to be contained like that. “Congratulations, unnie.”

With something unnamed clouding her eyes, Minhee gives Jisu a hesitant smile and leans into Jisu’s touch—cheek against her hand; full of warmth.

One deep breath in and it all sneaks back up into her. One, two, three— buzzbuzzbuzz. Time to regain her footing.

Han Jisu is Lee Minhee’s friend.

It’s Minhee’s day.

There’s a line.

The only threshold they cross that day is the one in between Minhee and her surprise graduation party.

Minhee is both shocked and prepared for it when she pushes the door open, revealing a decorated living room and a full house, buzzing with excitement, anticipation, and cat-themed treats lining the edges of the tiny, shared dorm room.

Jisu has the pleasure of watching Minhee’s face heat up, slow and simmering. Reluctantly giving in to the attention. She witnesses the bundle of joy that's been building up in her body throughout the day spill out everywhere. It’s the prettiest thing Jisu has ever seen.

Among the lights of the candles on her cake and the colours of the bouquet that Jisu arranged for her, Minhee looks fragrant. In her element.

Attracting Jisu’s gaze among the bustle of all their friends packed into a tiny apartment like a bee to pollen. Buzz buzz. But this time it’s the sound of Jisu trailing behind Minhee, always three steps behind. In orbit. Tethered.

In the middle of a party game, though, Jisu tunes it all out for a second. A brief respite.

She looks away. Takes a breath. Maybe it could have happened—they could have kissed. Right there, outside the door. Maybe she could make Minhee flush even redder than she is right now, adding swollen lips to her alcohol-buzzed, content look.

She looks back and locks eyes with Minhee, who gives her a small smile and tilts her head, as if calling her over. Like she always does—nothing new.

Jisu rejoins the world, and everything is as it was.

Jeonginnie

Today 23:11

Jisu

Jeonginnie

damn let me finish

minhee and u…. are still Friends

???

Jisu

Wdym like u think she’s going to stop talking to me????

Did i do something weird OMGgggNOOOOO

Jeonginnie

stop typing

MISINTERPRETER SUPREME STFIUUUUUU

are you guys dating was there a big confession at the grad party nd thirdly why wasn't i updated immediately

Jisu

She’s not into me like that

Jeonginnie

have you ever talked about it

to her

Jisu

No wtf i’d rather tear my cuticles back with my teeth

Jeonginnie

i couldve sworn you guys were together the way she was looking at u when you both came in

Jisu

Its just because i’ve been lusting for minhee in this safe space

U have ur yuri glasses on

Ur pushing an agenda that i want

Jeonginnie

who said this is a safe space im posting these screenshots to the internet

you should play truth or dare with her and then dare her to kiss you

Jisu

Stop writing fic about us this second

Jeongin

i have an ulterior motive

i can’t take ur pining lusting yearning anymore

IT’S TURNING ME INTO A ROMANTIC

please kiss before it spreads to me

Fast forward, press play. Jisu is back to staring as Minhee builds furniture and looks devastatingly hot while she does it.

Jisu keeps walking the line between hoping for more and running away with her tail tucked in between her legs, convincing herself that she’s being too greedy.

She’s always been one to seek a feast where there’s only scraps, and she reads too much into closeness. Minhee is a sure thing, and she can’t go and shake that up for herself.

For all that its worth, the repeated mantra of they’re friends doesn’t stop Jisu’s heart from fluttering when, eventually, Minhee beckons her closer with two fingers to come see the finished product, jagi, making her stumble at the casual way in which a hand wraps around her waist and manhandles her so that she’s facing the shelf.

Minhee’s hands have always felt like the revving of an engine before it gears up to cruise at full speed.

Powerful, controlled, assured in what they can do—how they can make something move at their command, under their guidance. She leans back into the warmth of her chest while complimenting her personal handyman.

“Ah, is there something you can’t do, unnie?”

She gets tickled in response, which only makes both of their bodies meld further into each other. Jisu has to drag herself out of Minhee’s tight grasp before she starts reading into the closeness again.

It’s easy to be rearranged by Minhee. Inspected, moved around, tended to.

Jisu doesn’t mind being done to if Minhee’s the one doing it, and she likes how confident Minhee always is that Jisu can take it. She might protest, whine, and annoy to no end, but she gives in (counterpoint: Wouldn’t anyone give in? It’s hard not to when your roommate looks like a wet dream).

Jisu and Minhee settle into their couch (the one piece of furniture that hasn’t moved at all. Jisu will be the first one to admit that she has a soft spot for this couch. When their apartment was still empty, she got to cuddle Minhee's warm body on it, using the flimsy excuse of the floor’s too cold, unnie, we should share body heat. Minhee, bless her soul, had entertained her).

Jisu watches Minhee lift the bottom of her shirt to wipe her forehead. She tries not to fan herself at the glimpse of Minhee’s happy trail that she gets as a result of the movement.

In an effort to distract herself, she begins to recount her day to Minhee.

“Unnie. Stop laughing at me. I came out alive! And my ego wasn’t bruised at all, of course.”

Minhee makes a fake-surprised face, endearing Jisu all too much for someone that’s having fun at her expense. “Is that so? And how did Jisu-yah get through being asked if she only writes sad songs because she’s never had a girlfriend?”

Minhee giggles into her hands in between the words, and Jisu huffs before she straightens up her posture and turns to face Minhee.

“The lack of romance can’t stop me, baby.” Jisu makes circles in the air like she’s actually making a point. “I’ll write a million sad songs, it doesn’t mean anything,” she says. “I’m actually a certified player.”

Minhee listens with rapt attention, as if it isn’t complete bullshit. Jisu giggles and hits her with the flower-patterned pillow of their sofa.

“Stop. I can hear you teasing me, unnie.”

“I didn’t say anyt–”

“Still heard you! For real, you know I’ve dated people,” she whines into the comfortable air in between them. Something passes over Minhee’s face before a hand reaches out to poke her cheek.

“I know, sweetheart. You’re fun to tease. I like teasing you, is that so bad?”

Jisu attempts to hit her with the throw pillow again, before it’s snatched away from her.

“Yah! Unnie cooks you dinner every night and you want to be a brat on her sofa? No more three-course meals for Jisu.”

“As if. It’s our sofa, I made huge contributions to picking out this colour,” she whines back.

The sometimes-painful pining aside, Jisu doesn’t think Minhee’s ever made her feel out of depth. There’s no one that coddles her more, and she’s always liked being spoiled. She removes the weaponised throw pillow from in between them and melts into Minhee’s side, resting her head on shoulders that have somehow gotten even firmer in the last few months.

“Really, though. I will go threaten those rapper wannabe classmates of yours if they’re talking shit.” Jisu shakes her head, hair rustling against Minhee’s bare arms, which lift to bring her closer in a side hug.

“They were only joking, unnie. I mean, I think? Besides, I’m not all that bothered. Romance is not the place where I lack the experience–you’ve heard my songs.”

She burrows further into the human furnace of her roommate’s body, and doesn’t clarify that she means that her expertise lies in the type of romance that’s unrequited (her staple ever since Minhee came into her life.)

She feels more than sees Minhee’s head tilting, causing their heads to bump the tiniest bit. “And where does Jisu-yah lack experience, exactly?”

Fuck Minhee and her terrible, perfect listening skills. “Nowhere!” Too quickly said, like there’s a fire waiting to be put out at the edges of her words.

Dead giveaway.

Jisu’s body stiffens a little before Minhee rearranges her so that they’re facing each other. One thigh over another, wrapped up like the chord of the wired headphones Jisu hasn’t let go for years now—except the 15 minutes she spends detangling those is nothing compared to the web of MinheeandJisu that she fears will never untwine.

Because she doesn’t want to. Here’s the thing:

Having a crush and being in love are two points on a spectrum, but only hypothetically. Two points on opposite ends of a line, except Jisu never was good at sticking to the straight line, and her feelings for Minhee grew enough to take the form of one perfect circle. An ouroboros. To crush on and to love—heads or tails? Even Jisu doesn’t know—she loses her head and bites her own tail, foolish in her ignorance of the fact that there’s supposed to be a line. Some lines shouldn’t be crossed, but tell that to the dumb little snakes that rule Jisu’s heart.

“Bug, you disappeared.” Fingers wave in front of her face.

“Tell unnie what you’re hiding,” Minhee says as she pokes Jisu’s side and then immediately soothes the area with her palm, sliding across her waist and pulling until Jisu’s firmly situated on her lap.

She tries not to whimper at how much surface area the span of Minhee’s hand can cover around her waist and instead hides her face in her hands, knowing she isn’t getting out of this conversation unscathed.

“Imtalkingaboutsexexperience” spills out of her mouth in a single breath.

Minhee is fully set on making eye contact with her now, and Jisu can feel the red colouring her cheeks get even brighter under all her attention.

There’s a stilted silence in between them for a few moments, and Jisu’s sure that an alternate universe version of her that has the power to make the ground swallow her under has already long-escaped from this situation.

This whole thing wouldn’t be so mortifying if Jisu and Minhee had actually talked about sex in all their years of friendship.

The source of many of Jisu’s quiet, internal breakdowns; Minhee always gets all distant and detached whenever the conversation veered towards anything too sexual.

She’s always asked Jisu if the person’s she’s seeing is taking care of her and other chivalrous things that make her heart ache, but it’s different from Jisu’s conversation with Felix and Hyunjin, who ask for and encourage the gory detail—and then some.

The one time Jisu tried to ask Minhee for some sex-related advice, their conversation was put a quick stop by two cute mugs from their cabinet shattering onto the floor from where they were held in Minhee’s hands.

The only thing that came out of that night is Jisu patching Minhee up and berating her for having slippery fingers.

She’s fully expecting Minhee to change the subject. Instead, she goes on and scrambles Jisu’s brain.

“Hannie lacking sex experience? What, no one’s taken care of m–this pretty pillow princess?”

Safe to say, Jisu almost gives herself whiplash with how fast she turns her head, her body, to fully regard Minhee. Jisu is a little dizzy with that mean, condescending tone colouring the borders of her voice calling her a pillow princess. That’s more reference to either of them having sex than the past 10 months combined.

Jisu splutters, “Unnie, what? First of all, I am not–”

“Not a liar. Yeah, I know, baby. Don’t pretend with me. Answer my question,” and Jisu didn’t even realise there’s a hand resting at the nape of her neck.

Minhee always moved too quietly and too quickly. Catlike prowess that used to freak Jisu out until she realised that Minhee gets really excited when she sneaks up on Jisu and gets her a little out of sorts. On the edge.

“I was half-joking, unnie. I’ve—um—I’ve had sex.” She lets out a self-conscious laugh to try to regain her footing in this conversation.

“Feels weird to talk to you about this. I’ve had sex with people before but I’ve never—ah! This is embarrassing! Unnie, be honest. Is this just a method of torture you’re inflicting upon poor little Jisu?”

She pouts in Minhee's general direction, hoping that playing up her cuteness might bide her some time.

Minhee’s gaze sharpens, solidifying the tension in the air into something Jisu can see. It feels like a reprimand, and Jisu’s embarrassed at how badly she wants to please Minhee.

She sighs a long, put-upon sigh.

“Fine. If you want to be so mean, I’ll tell you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The hand on her nape tightens imperceptibly. “I’ve had sex but no one’s actually been inside me. Like, I’ve done other stuff. And I’ve done stuff to people. But, yeah.”

Silence staggers the air. Pauses time. She feels Minhee’s fingers twitch around her waist, bruising and then not. Strawberries ripen and then sour—all in the course of a few seconds.

She meets darkened eyes and a firm voice. “Does that bother you, Jisu-yah?”

Jisu, unperturbed by intensity that she’s come to expect from Minhee, only makes a long, thinking sound.

“I don’t know—no? I’ve never felt like the person I was with wanted to…because I get anxious and–…yeah. But sometimes when Lixie and Jinnie are talking about all the stuff they get up to, I feel—like I’m missing out and that I need to experience it. And I know, um.”

Jisu is burning a bright red at this point.

“You might have a very different experience with sex in general, but I always get so in my head during it that I’ve never been comfortable enough to have someone inside me. Isn’t it such an intimate thing? I don’t know, maybe I’m just hopeless.”

She throws up a peace sign in a last ditch effort to combat the sudden vulnerability coating her voice.

Minhee guides Jisu’s head forward until their bodies are pressed together.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Minhee murmurs, absent-minded like she’s deep in thought.

Minhee’s other hand rubs soothing circles into her wrist, clockwise and keeping time in a way that only a dancer could. Her eyes search Jisu’s with a focus that she can’t place, and she feels delirious under all the attention.

Sometimes, Jisu thinks that Minhee sees her as something to be pitied and cared for, like a trapped bird in a cage; faulty wings and too attached to the nest. Why else would she want to keep her so close?

“Stupid girl,” Minhee tuts as her hand travels to stroke Jisu’s hair, staring at her with an impassive gaze.

“What do you want? Do you want to know how it feels to have someone inside you?”

Jisu gasps a little when those words leave Minhee’s mouth, sounding so much more illicit when framed by her strawberry scent crystallising in the air, making Jisu want to present herself for her alpha even though that is not the conversation they’re having right now.

She catches a whimper before it escapes from between her throat, only to let out a yelp when Minhee’s hand moves down to clamp around the back of her neck, fingers spreading out to apply pressure at her scalp in steady circles.

Her palm presses forward at her nape in a vice grip until their faces are close enough for Jisu’s breath to fog up Minhee’s glasses if she tried.

“Unnie-hng. You’re squeezing really hard.”

Her soft, sweet Minhee disappears, for just that second. The bunny-eared plush hoodie that she’s wearing because it gets too cold in the evenings doesn’t work to make the clinical look in her eyes look any less searing—cutting through the space between them like a laser beam.

Like she’s just a sample on a petri-dish, awaiting Minhee's extensive, microscopic evaluation.

“Hmm, sorry, angel.” The hand eases off, and Jisu presses back to seek its warmth, the hard press of calloused fingers, before she even realises what she’s doing.

Minhee’s eyes are molten and different from anything she’s seen before in the small glimpse she gets between one pleased flutter of her eyes and another.

Minhee raises her eyebrows expectantly, and she suddenly remembers that she has a question to answer.

“I want…” She sucks in a breath, trying to steady her voice before it cracks under the weight of being known like this. “I want to know how it feels to want it. And I like the idea of being full…I mean–”

Jisu blushes a deep scarlet at how unintentionally candid that admission was, resisting the urge to put her hands over her face and hide all her reactions from knowing eyes.

“I like the way it sounds in theory, to be connected to someone like that. But I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone that made me feel like I could want it without making them wait. And…”

Minhee looks on at her, patient as ever.

Jisu doesn’t know whether this counts as a lie. All she knows is:

“There’s this girl that I like… —have liked, for ages. And, I don’t know. I would want to be prepared for when she…”

Minhee’s other hand pats her butt, and Jisu recognizes it as a sign that she’s listening from years of casual, drive-Jisu-crazy touches.

Maybe it counts as a lie, but Jisu cannot imagine telling Minhee that she’s harboured a crush on her that has spanned multiple years. She tries to picture it, following up her previous sentence with that girl is you. It makes her shudder. She’s already embarrassed herself enough for today.

“Bug. After I murder all those women who made you feel bad for needing time to feel prepared—

“Unnie!”

“What.”

Jisu gives her an incredulous look. “It’s not their fault that I move at a different pace! Maybe something’s wrong with m–”

There’s a hand covering Jisu’s mouth before she can continue speaking.

Distracted for a moment by the comforting smell of Minhee’s lavender hand cream (which Jisu gifted her for Christmas, berating her for having too many callouses from the pull up bar, unnie), Jisu melts into the firm press of Minhee, steady against every blazing surface of her body.

“Baby. There’s nothing wrong with needing time. Drawing it out is the fun part.” Minhee takes her hand off her mouth and she tries (and fails) not to mourn the loss.

Jisu cocks her head, unused to hearing that. “Is it?”

“Mmhm. I like it when it’s slower, and I like building up to it–”

Minhee’s fingers make tiptoe motions up Jisu’s arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Between their chests, where Jisu’s still plastered all over Minhee, Jisu can feel her nipples hardening through her worn down t-shirt—sparks of pleasure burst where she lightly brushes against the heavy, rich fabric of Minhee’s hoodie.

Everything about Minhee is drenched in intention.

Minhee likes to curate, and she does it with pinpoint accuracy. The same three hoodies in rotation for when she leaves for dance, the high thread count of the plain black t-shirts that Jisu cannot for the life of her see the difference between, and the chain around her neck—silver, strewn across iron-pressed collars. Signature scents. Details that come together as evidence of a woman that savoured sameness. Who knew what she wanted.

It made Jisu a little giddy, sometimes, to see the reliable outline of Minhee’s broad frame under her trusted button down shirts against Jisu’s own style, which changed every day to reflect what she was feeling.

Frilly, fun, dark, whimsy. Take your pick on the spinning wheel of Jisu aesthetics. No matter what she wore though, if she was standing next to Minhee, she felt enveloped. Protected.

Even if it isn’t real, Jisu likes to pretend that Minhee is her patient girlfriend waiting for her to get ready whenever she takes an hour and a half to finish doing her makeup before they go out for their weekly going-out nights (because it doesn’t matter how much her personal style shifts to take many forms—she will always feel amiss if she leaves the house without lipgloss on).

The other thing that comes with Minhee being drenched in intention, slow and heady, is how she always means what she says. Which is why Jisu is finding it hard to not let her next words get to her head.

“And I think you’d like it like that too, sweetheart,” Minhee says, her breath a hair’s breadth away from the dip of her collarbone now, fingers migrating to Jisu’s thighs as they lie relaxed around Minhee’s hips. Jisu barely resists her body’s urge to jerk into the touch.

“I think you’d like it if alpha took her time with you, broke you down a little. Until you could take it. I could make you take it.”

Jisu freezes. She must have imagined that last part. What?

When Minhee’s hands begin to knead her thighs, the last remaining tension from Jisu’s shoulders seeps out—even though her brain’s working on overdrive—to make her give in and wrap her arms around Minhee. Like it’s instinct.

Breathing a little heavier than before and clenching around nothing on Minhee’s lap, Jisu sinks like all of her hesitation has been wiped away.

Wanting like she’s never wanted before, adding a new, sharp dimension to this thing inside her that has always thirsted to get closer to Minhee.

Still burrowing herself into a familiar embrace, like she’s done so many times before.

Deep and warm, Minhee chuckles into her ear; the air escaping from her nose makes Jisu’s hair rustle. The hand in her hair returns, patting in up and down motions that make Jisu’s brain cloud with sleep.

Unfamiliar places have never felt so comfortable, before.

When she falls asleep, it’s to the sound of Minhee’s heartbeat ringing steadily in her ears, clear with proximity and habit and strawberry fields, ringing through her dreams.

When their lips almost touch, she wakes up.

Jeonginnie

Today 02:45

you know

it’s not selfish if you tell minhee what you want

she really scares about you

cares*

she is also very scary about you, ttbbbhhhh

can’t believe im worrying about ur love life rn

WHATTT am i 2 do if no one’s fucking me :(

anyway

im going to beat the shit out of ur insecurities

kidding! Aha ignore that it was my inner alpha

growls

but

u told me to be selfish when i thought i wanted too much

I’m telling you to be selfish right now

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!

Word is that Lee Minhee fucks you into another planet. Jisu has been party to and witness of too many conversations dissecting what it is that makes her so irresistible, and a girl can only go so long before getting curious.

After Minhee told her that she likes taking her time. Jisu is a simple, red-blooded woman. With normal wants and desires that threaten to engulf her whole. And Jisu cannot stop thinking about wanting to know exactly how it is that Lee Minhee fucks.

Making her take it. Making her. Being taken by Minhee—that would be remould her; transformative from the ground up.

Her body is a live wire, itching all over and crackling with the morbid desire to know exactly what Minhee meant by that.

She doesn’t have to wait very long.

“Minhee,” Jisu starts, biting back a smile at how Minhee looks back at her as if offended. “ Unnie. Do you want to come out with us later today? We’re going to be music-ing and then get something to eat, I think.”

Minhee puts a hand to her mouth, bunny teeth peeking through in-between her ring-adorned fingers.

“3RACHA wants little old me?”

Jisu rolls her eyes good-naturedly and smacks Minhee on the shoulder. No matter how much time passes them by, she has to physically restrain herself from letting her fingers linger on the muscle, which has only become more defined over time.

“I can’t, baby. Have plans tonight,” Minhee mutters, staring at her phone screen distractedly. Jisu’s shoulders deflate.

A chuckle. “Don’t pout, brat. I spend every day with you. Go have fun, hm? Don’t let me hold you back.”

Days spent at the studio are usually endless. The three of them normally sit down and forget that they have lives outside of creating music—today was supposed to be like that.

Except it isn’t.

Jisu keeps shaking her legs.

Clicking over the undo, redo, undo, redo buttons repeatedly.

Cracking her back by swivelling around in the chair, making occasional eye contact with Changbin or Chan’s unamused faces.

Tap,

tap,

tap—

“Okay.” Chan claps his hands together, causing Jisu to startle and nearly fall off her chair.

“Jisu.”

She looks towards the both of them, preparing to be called out.

She watches Chan glance at the clock behind them. Only 8 pm. They would usually be hard at work, in the middle of recording harmonies right now.

She bites the cap of her pen, denting it beyond repair, darting her gaze back and forth between Chan and Changbin—in the middle of one of their typical eye contact conversations.

Together, they turn into a bundle of care. Especially if Jisu’s acting weird around them.

In the silence, Jisu’s mind wanders off to the time when she nervously hovered around them for two weeks before they sat her down and told her to spill, Jisu-yah and Jisu admitted that she’d prefer to call them hyung.

Chan had let out a long, relieved sigh, and Changbin just got up and hugged her with the strength of a thousand suns.

“Does this mean…we should—ah. Does this mean we should call you something else?” Chan had asked, nearly stumbling over his words.

Jisu shook her head. “Not really. It just feels better this way, to me. I don’t know how to explain it,” Jisu shrugs, preparing herself to explain something that doesn’t feel like it could be put into words.

“No need to explain, Jisu. Call us whatever you want.” Chan interrupts her train of thought.

“Yeah! I support all gender fuckery,” Changbin exclaims.

“What he means is,” Chan continues, side-eyeing Changbin, “–you don’t have to be nervous about asking something so small from us. This is like, bare minimum, Hannie-yah. We wouldn’t have been surprised if you just changed what you called us without telling us. You don’t have to ask for permission, okay?”

“Okay, Channie-hyung,” she had said, feeling loved and understood and like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders at the sight of Chan’s blinding smile and the feeling of Changbin’s hand patting her back.

Back here, now: Jisu jumps slightly when Changbin begins to talk, breaking her out of her stupor.

“This project isn’t due for like, another week. We have the chorus already, so…”

“Okay!” They turn towards her like freaky little twins, sporting matching smiles of reassurance.

“What? You guys are scary.”

“Binnie and I are feeling tired, Jisu-yah. Let’s just go home for today?”

“But—we wanted to finish…this? We can! Hyungs, don’t be mean, I’m fine,” she whines.

“Whaaaat, of course you’re fine” Chan scoffs, every bit unbelievable. “I’m tired. Can’t focus or whatever. And we should take our time! To fight off, you know, any nervousness or if something’s making us restless…” he trails off, looking to Changbin for help.

“Yes. Hyung is right. Han-ah, we won’t get anything done while I’m so…distracted! So tired. And I did legs at the gym.” Chan pats his back as if soothing him.

“Let’s try again in a few days. We have time, don’t worry,” he gives Jisu a thumbs up and ruffles up her hair.

Jisu just rolls her eyes and looks up to the studio ceiling helplessly. She isn’t winning against their combined stubbornness, she already knows.

On the walk back to the apartment, she avoids all thoughts about the exact reason why she’s been vibrating out of her skin lately.

I think you’d like it if alpha took her time with you, broke you down a little.

Who even says that in actual, real life? Does Minhee think she’s in a corny x-rated romance novel? Why is it working on Jisu so well?

Maybe it’s because none of her previous, brief flings were ever ones to talk dirty. That must be it. A slow descent into madness caused by deprivation, or something.

Jisu turns up the volume all the way on her noise cancelling headphones, walking home a little bit faster. Trying to run away from her depraved, horny thoughts about wanting her best friend to f—

She lets out a long breath once she sits down on her bed. The living room lights were dimmed when she entered. Minhee must still be outside.

Jisu figures she should try to work off this restless energy the only way she knows how: a good, old-fashioned orgasm.

When she takes her headphones off, though, her world fractures in half. One hand pushing them down until they’re completely off her ears and the rest of her body completely still.

Quiet all around her, except for the part where there are moans coming from Minhee’s room across her own.

First, she thinks: no way.

Then, she realises that in multiple years of living together, this was bound to happen at least once. The timing couldn’t be worse, though.

Belatedly, she realises that it wasn’t Minhee that moaned.

“Fuck. Good girl, letting me fuck your throat. Can you take more?” Minhee’s voice reverberates in the silence of Jisu’s room.

Minhee gets a gargled sound in response to her question, and Jisu has to strain her ears to listen over the frantic beating of her heart.

Minhee had plans tonight. Fuck. These were the plans. Jisu has to swallow the saliva collecting in her mouth slowly, afraid of alerting Minhee to her presence.

A high, whiny sound cuts through her spiral.

“Alpha. Pleasepleaseplease–hng. Fuck me?”

Jisu shudders when Minhee moans. Alpha. She has to bite down on her lips to hold in a gasp. There are indents in her thighs, where she’s digging in, deep, to stop herself from—from—

She hears a loud smack and a guttural sound. Not from Minhee.

A long, thinking hum. One that Jisu has heard many times, in very different contexts. “Do you think you deserve that?”

Jisu needs to do something, anything before she marches into that room and demands for this undeserving, random stranger to leave their home. Minhee and Jisu’s home. Before she makes enough of a scene that Minhee has to redirect all of her attention to her.

That’s how it’s supposed to be—Jisu in that room, Jisu all over Minhee. Jisu all over her alpha .

Despite the ugly green tinge of jealousy taking over her body, she still can’t help but fall back a little, legs spreading to make space for the ghost of her imagination. Her back hits the headboard, and she can feel herself grow wet.

Wet enough for Minhee to slip inside her, show her a better time than a stranger ever could.

Her envy is deep seated, but so is her want.

She tries to breathe in and out in patterns long-memorised, tries—desperately—to calm her body down.

It doesn’t work.

Another irksome sound. A whimper, broken-off. “So loud,” Minhee says, condescending—so hot. Jisu presses her legs together in an attempt to ignore her desperate desire for something to grind against.

“Look at you, so desperate already. Slut.” Jisu huffs. Rude.

“So loud. You wouldn’t even care if someone heard you, hm?”

Minhee’s so mean. It’s not fair. Minhee should only be mean to Jisu.

Jisu would be even louder. Jisu could take her better.

She grabs the pillow closest to her and puts it in between her legs, moving under the haze of want. Tunes out the world, trying to forget that Minhee is with someone else.

She pretends that the pillow is Minhee: her firm thighs flexed for Jisu to get herself off on. Pretends that she’s putting on a performance for Minhee’s intense, unwavering, mean gaze. So mean.

Jisu shifts so that the pillow is underneath her while she straddles it. Repositions herself until its edge brushes against her clit just the right way. Her eyes flutter, and she lets herself imagine.

Riding Minhee. Minhee’s hands around her hips, making her slow down. Making her take it.

If she reached down between her thighs with her own fingers, her wetness would be loud. She’s soaked. Her hips take on a rhythm of their own—uncoordinated. No one is there to guide her, so she’s caught between frustration at having to do it herself and chasing her release.

She cums too quickly. Minhee would do something about that, she’s sure. She drools all over the soft pastel of her bedsheet, making a mess—Minhee would like that, Jisu thinks. Thinks, thinks, thinks. She wishes she was doing more than thinking.

Her hips stutter over the soft cushion of the pillow once, twice. She holds back a desperate whine. If only she were on top of something harder. Jisu knows Minhee better. Better than the charcoal-scented omega that’s polluting their apartment with noise and grating at Jisu’s nerves, making her grind her teeth together.

Her vision goes red, ruining her post-orgasm bliss—however momentary. Fuck this—this random whoever. What makes her think that she’s worth Minhee’s time?

Frozen under the rush of the jumble of emotions running across her head, Jisu sinks back into her bed. Annoyed, jealous, sated—barely. She feels empty. Minhee should be filling her up.

When she falls asleep, she’s only a little embarrassed at wishing grievous bodily harm upon Minhee’s one night stand.

In retrospect, that’s what does her in. The final nail in her yearning-built coffin. Minhee and Jisu have been friends for three years when the dam finally breaks. And then Jisu can’t stop thinking about it.

She wakes up and she skirts her hand over her body, thinking about how Minhee would touch her. About how Minhee should touch only her.

Ties her hair back, accidentally pulling a little harder than usual, hands growing slack with the thought of Minhee pulling even harder. Soothing her right after. Faux sympathy, shiny eyes. Minhee would talk her through it, she’s sure.

She looks at herself in the mirror. Waist that curves inwards, tits that would bounce if Minhee wanted to watch her—she shakes her head, as if that would clear all this hopeless desire.

She looks into her own eyes, glassy and dazed, and tries to blink away the evidence of how much she wants Minhee in every way that a person can want someone.

Minhee would want her. Minhee should want her. Jisu can’t go another day knowing that other women get to experience something that—

Something that Jisu should have the right to. MinheeandJisu. A unit. It’s unfair that someone else gets to know Minhee in a way that the self-proclaimed expert on Lee Minhee cannot. It’s not right.

Jisu needs to fix it.

She walks to breakfast at their kitchen island—the same one they rejected five other apartments for, caught up in a hunt for the perfect place to eat breakfast—and tries to avert her gaze from a distinct outline in Minhee’s sweatpants.

God, she’s not wearing anything underneath those. Jisu has to sit down before her knees give out underneath her as she thinks about taking it.

Would she even be able to take it? She shakes her head, trying desperately to avoid any changes in her scent that might accompany her thoughts about Minhee and herself alone, in a room, naked—

“Knock knock, honeybun. Breakfast is served,” Minhee interrupts her.

“You have class in like–” She pauses to check her annoyingly sexy wristwatch, and Jisu has to dig her nails into her thighs while she bears the force of wanting to see those veiny forearms flex for other reasons. “...15. I’d hurry.”

Circles run around her, between silences during lectures and watching Minhee come back from work and undo the cuffs of her work shirt that she complains about, but still wears.

(She remembers the first time she watched Minhee put on her dancer off-duty slacks because she had to go in for creative direction meetings with a fancy client—best day of her life. She was home alone right after that. Naturally, her next move was to make herself cum on her fingers thrice thinking of the way the collar sat against Minhee’s neck. A day well spent.)

Like a pavlovian response, then and now, Jisu’s mouth pools with saliva. It feels empty—there’s a phantom of weight pressing down on her tongue, making her lose footing.

She really needs to get a handle on all this wanting before she’s permanently rendered off balance. Halved in two directions; holding back and giving in.

Jisu is at a crossroads. Maybe what she needs is third party intervention to talk her out of it.

Jisu

Today 18:10

Tell me not to do it

Jeonginnie

do it

Never mind.

Between one breath of the vanilla-scented candle lit in their living room and another, Minhee gets close to drop a quick kiss to Jisu’s forehead, leaving her with the scent of heady cologne and strawberries worth wrapping her lips around.

Minhee’s hair is pitch black in the evening light. Jisu likes it so much. Suddenly, she wants to get on her knees and sing a million praises; all for Minhee.

Failing at her mission to practise self control already, Jisu thinks about how it would feel to make Minhee feel good.

A look away, another failed attempt at trying to clear her mind.

It’s not like her Minhee-induced fantasies weren’t always tinged red with Jisu’s want, but all of it just feels so much more now. She could just give in.

Would Minhee hold her lip between her teeth the same way she is now, while she’s trying to choose whether to take a shower before or after going to the gym? Would she throw her head back, lose herself in it?

Minhee has never been good at being selfish, but Jisu wants to tear away at all her layers until the urge to take is all that remains.

Jisu tries to come back to herself, and looks to her side, where Minhee broke her brain two days ago and then forgot to put her back together. I think you’d like it like that too, sweetheart.

She could just give in. Minhee comes back, freshly showered. Strawberry scented. She looks comfy—she’s probably skipping the gym today.

Great. More time for Jisu’s mind to melt under direct exposure.

A rush in her ears—when Minhee said that drawing it out is the fun part. That she likes it when it’s slower. That she likes building up to it.

“Baby,” Minhee says, joining Jisu on the sofa, close enough for her to smell her vanilla body wash and watch water trail down from the ends of her hair, bleeding into her tank top. “–you’ve been thinking so loudly since I got home.”

She makes a wandering, thinking sound. Jisu stares. Minhee’s hair is pushed back, revealing her forehead. Jisu likes the way it makes her face look sharp.

“For the past few days, actually. Yongbokkie was telling me that you’ve been weird, too. What’s on your mind?”

She inches closer, until their shoulders are touching. Jisu almost lets out an incriminating squeak when one hand comes and rests on her bare thigh, squeezing in reassurance.

Minhee probably thinks Jisu’s caught up in an anxiety spiral again. She’s so sweet, Jisu almost feels bad for wanting to spread her legs wider to make space for Minhee’s hands.

Minhee blows into her ear. She startles, too easy—as always. She turns her head to face her, only to find that there’s no space between them anymore.

Minhee’s hands squeeze once again, like a reminder of her concern.

Minhee is so attentive, so careful with her. Jisu has always known herself to be the opposite—equally affectionate but bitten by something that makes her want to push at all of Minhee’s buttons until she loses it.

She wants to see Minhee let go of all her composure—she wants herself to give in.

Why can’t she give in?

Minhee handles Jisu like a favourite song—memorising the lines and remixing them on command. Comfortable enough to know when the chorus is approaching. Counting it down with every turn of her gaze as it searches across Jisu’s face.

The dam breaks, breaks, is breaking. Her want can’t be contained.

“Did you mean it?”

“Hm?” Minhee’s eyebrows come together in confusion.

“What you said–” Jisu sighs, half-unbelieving that she’s really saying this out loud.

It can’t be that bad, she figures. This is her very own Minhee. She knows the woman in front of her inside out. No way she’d throw her out of their house for being desperately horny. She needs to just rip the bandaid off and accept that this could lead to a potentially brutal and soul-crushing rejection hidden under a sweet and accepting smile.

Minhee is always soft with her, even if Jisu makes mistakes. It has to be the same this time around. Maybe. Jisu is a little out of her depth right now.

Sometimes, it seemed like Minhee liked when Jisu made mistakes, if only for the part where she gets to guide Jisu through it. Jisu can’t even begin to count the number of times Minhee has taught her how to do something properly, giving her a satisfied smile when Jisu gets it right.

It’s the thought of that possibility—the possibility that Minhee could praise her for this—that keeps her going.

“–what you said when I told you that I’ve never had someone–” She clears her throat. “...inside me.”

Minhee’s face clears in recognition, and she’s somehow closer than she was before, breath trailing over Jisu’s ear, hand caressing her uncovered thigh—clad with only her trusty shorts as the smooth skin pebbles up under sudden stimulation.

Jisu’s eyes flutter with how dizzy all this skin to skin contact is making her. Already so desperate, worked up.

Part of her fears what she’ll become if the embers of want within her turn into flames.

She might not have to wonder for long. The sparks that are spreading from the points where her body meets Minhee are signalling a wildfire in the making.

“I remember, angel. Added it to my list of Jisu trivia that I didn’t know before three days ago. And yes, I meant every word I said. How come you never told me, mm?”

Minhee noses Jisu’s jaw, pushing until her throat is slightly bared and her scent overpowers everything else in the room.

“Never c–came up, unnie,” Jisu replies, with a shaky voice that couldn't be more transparent if she tried.

“That’s true. Haven’t you noticed before, bug? I can’t stand to hear about my Jisu with someone else,” Minhee agrees, with an edge to her voice that has Jisu squeezing her legs together, trapping Minhee’s hand between her thighs in an attempt to fight off the wave of desire that overcomes her.

Another part of her brain wants to scoff at the statement and call Minhee a hypocrite.

Minhee should apply the same logic to Jisu, who also can’t stand to hear about Minhee with someone else. She thought they had a mutual understanding until she heard Minhee ruining a woman that wasn’t Jisu.

“Why are you asking if I meant it?” Asked against the skin of her neck, accompanied by a small peck. Nothing different from their usual affection. “Is it that girl you like?” Minhee continues, voice laced with something dark.

Jisu shudders in response and flushes red, down to her neck, where Minhee can see and feel the effect she’s having on her. How does she tell Minhee that the girl she’s referring to is herself? Embarrassing. Jisu is so embarrassed.

She wants to turn away, go back into hiding. Minhee’s touch is coaxing the words out of her before she tries to run from them.

“Don’t tease, unnie. I asked because– hhhng. I want you to—if you’ll have me–” Jisu’s voice wavers in response to Minhee leaving an open-mouthed kiss where her neck meets her shoulder.

The air cools the patch of wetness Minhee leaves behind. Very different from their usual affection.

Notes of chocolate, melting all over both of them. Shading in the lines, crossing borders.

“You want unnie to teach you? Show you what it’s like so that you’ll know?” Minhee says, right into her ear, with her mouth so close to the most sensitive part of her throat.

Teasing. She nips the skin once, making Jisu moan too loud into the comfortable silence of their living room.

Fuck it, she should give in.

Her head tips back against the couch. “Would you?” A breathy whisper, a held breath.

The hand on her thigh ventures further up, until it’s resting too calmly against the sensitive skin of Jisu’s inner thigh.

Falling back, Jisu unfurls. Opens up so that Minhee could move her hand higher, if she wanted.

A sigh punches itself out of her when Minhee digs her nails into the soft flesh of her thigh instead, and then smooths over the indents she made. Voice laced with indulgence, Minhee gives in. “I’ll teach you, baby. We’ll go slow.”

The hand leaves and Jisu almost whines in complaint before it’s pulling at her lower lip.

“Already pouting, Hannie. So cute,” Minhee coos. She takes Jisu’s chin in her fingers and guides her until they’re facing each other, sharing the same breath.

“I could just eat you up,” she whispers against her mouth, so close that their lips brush around her vowels. Jisu closes her eyes, overwhelmed by sensation. She drinks up her consonants—slack, pliant, waiting.

“Plea–”

When Minhee kisses her, it feels like a puzzle piece slotting into place. Meant to happen. Against Minhee’s pillowy, soft kisses, all the nervousness that usually overtakes her body at the thought of intimacy vanishes.

Her, Minhee, and the chocolate covered strawberries in the air. Melding together until everything is one. Heads or tails. Neither. Everything.

In one swift motion, Minhee breaks away for a second—not before pecking Jisu’s lips once, twice—and repositions them, trailing her hands down Jisu’s body until they’re wrapped around the back of her thighs and lifting until she’s on her lap.

“Minhee, wha–?”

Jisu’s mouth slightly drops open, hands landing on Minhee’s arms in the aftermath of such quick, sudden movement. All she gets in response to her dumbfounded look is a sweet, tinkling giggle.

“What’s so surprising?” Jisu doesn’t miss the way Minhee’s mouth curls up in her signature half-smirk—the same one that made Jisu weak in the knees when they were younger and still new to each other’s presence.

She’d be lying if she said she’s immune to its effects after all this time.

Jisu needs to hide before she starts burning alive, so she seeks shelter in the curve of Minhee’s neck. Inhaling deeply and unable to hold in her pleased, happy sound at their closeness.

Before she can bring herself to respond, Jisu realises that her hands are still on Minhee’s biceps, which are tensed just the slightest because they’re holding her still against Jisu’s own subconscious efforts to move, seek friction.

Holding her still from grinding down on her, she realises. What the fuck. Why is that so hot?

She’s half delirious with want already when she squeezes Minhee’s arms, barely able to form a ring around the span of her arm. “You’re so strong,” she sighs dreamily into the skin of Minhee’s neck, nuzzling into the warmth.

Jisu uses her thumbs to dig into the muscle, mapping out all of its contours. “Would you put me in a headlock?” she asks distractedly, words spilling too fast for her brain to filter.

Minhee barks a sudden, loud laugh. It puts Jisu at ease. “I’ll do anything you want me to, Jisu-yah. Slowly, though.”

“You’re so good to me,” she whispers.

Minhee smooths her hands down her back. “Nothing you don’t deserve.”

She gives in to the urge to leave a kiss under Minhee’s ears, which are red under her attention. Jisu nips her earlobe, peppering it with bites and tugs, until Minhee hisses into her ear and pulls her back by her neck, firm yet gentle with her restrained strength.

Minhee’s scent always had a relaxing effect on Jisu, but when it’s this close to her? It’s lethal.

She might not have a filter anymore, so she continues. “S’ strong,” she slurs out, speech hazy with desire so suddenly.

“Would you use those arms on me, unnie? Hold me down?” She gives her the same eyes that have made sure that Jisu never has to tie her own shoelaces when she’s in Minhee’s vicinity.

The arm on her waist tenses even more, making Jisu whimper with how much firmer they feel to touch.

“Please.” At the edge of desperation. Uninhabited. “Want you inside me.”

Minhee inhales sharply.

“Tell me.” Minhee’s arms relax, both straying to the dip of her lower back. Jisu mourns the fact that she can’t feel them up as much anymore, and then proceeds to stop thinking completely.

Minhee’s hands lift the hem of her t-shirt, feeling across skin.

Lower, and they’re grabbing two handfuls of her ass and pulling her closer until Jisu’s directly on top of Minhee’s crotch. Jisu bites her lip when she feels the hard press of Minhee’s dick slotting in between her pussy perfectly. Puzzle pieces, in every way.

“I’ll let you move if you tell me exactly what you want, baby. Tell me what you like. How you like it.”

Jisu gasps when Minhee moves her in a slow grind against something hard. Her mind blanks. Minhee’s hard. Jisu did that. Their scents get heavier in the air, and Jisu’s sure she must be leaking through her shorts at this rate.

And then, it stops.

“Unnie,” she whines. “More—please.”

Minhee only raises her eyebrows expectantly.

Jisu huffs, and decides that two can play this game. If Minhee wants to torture her, she’s happy to return the same and push until she cracks.

She extends her arms until they form a ring around Minhee’s shoulder, and their foreheads are touching. Plants a peck on the peak of Minhee’s lips, which are calling her name with how pouty and soft they look.

She might as well, in the spirit of giving in.

“What I want…” Jisu bites over Minhee’s jaw lightly. “I want to suck you off.”

She smirks when she feels her jaw tense under her teeth, and then bites again. Thumbs over the print of her teeth, treasuring the idea of leaving her mark on Minhee’s body. No one else should get to do this. Just Jisu.

Under her rapt attention, she continues.

“I want to take your fingers in my mouth.” Her eyes flutter, and she can see the image she’s painting with her words. It almost distracts her. Almost.

“Want you to make me gag on them. Wanna get all pretty for you and then cry around whatever you’ll give me, until you ruin my makeup. Until I’m begging for more.”

She presses her hips down until they’re close enough for Jisu to feel Minhee’s cock twitch.

“I would drool around your cock, unnie—‘wan be on my knees for you. Take you in as far as I can. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to handle, though.”

She reaches down to Minhee’s collarbone and bites, trying to leave a mark. She feels Minhee loosen her hold, and then grinds down into her until they’re as close as they can be to fucking with their clothes still on.

She whines, feeling everything she hasn’t allowed herself to feel before. Losing herself, forgetting that she’s supposed to be driving Minhee insane. Gives in to the feeling of rubbing against Minhee.

“You’re so big, unnie,” she says, around a moan. “How–ah. Fuck. How are you going to fit insid–”

Minhee licks into her mouth before she finishes that sentence.

Their teeth clack together, and Jisu’s eyes roll back into her head with the intensity of it all. Control slipping, the tiniest bit. Hands grabbing Jisu’s ass, urging her to rut into Minhee and all the hard planes of her body, push into its rivalling softness. She drowns in the feeling.

Jisu’s mouth goes slack against Miinhee’s lips, body pliant in her hold. At the back of her mind, she realises that she’s at the mercy of her best friend, who’s teasing her lips in between her teeth, making them red; swollen with her presence. It’s surreal.

She starts moving her hips faster, seeking release. Her body brims over with an urgent craving.

One of Minhee’s hands finds her waist again, and the other lies on her thigh, holding and pressing until Jisu’s subdued. Until she slows down, until she’s moving under Minhee’s direction—at just the right pace.

Minhee always knew her body better than herself, and it’s holding up to be true here as well. Jisu is at the brink of handing over all control.

“There you go, sweetheart. Get yourself off like this. Unnie wants to watch. If you’re good, maybe we can do everything my baby wants so bad.”

Good. Good. She needs to be good. It’s wired into her—the need to please Minhee. When she looks at her through half-lidded eyes, she has a feeling she might be getting there.

It’s in the way her eyes are reading through every twitch, every gasp. Drinking them in, cataloguing reactions.

Jisu feels cracked open; drunk under the spotlight focused solely on her. Minhee surges back into Jisu’s space with renewed fervour, pressing down on Jisu’s waist and moving her body over the tent in her pants with so much control that she doesn’t have to do any of the thinking.

She gives in, again. And again and again. Repeats the indulgence until it’s body first, and mind second.

She lets herself feel the way the pressure between her thighs grows and takes over her body. The way the muscles in her core seize up before Minhee tells her to relax, baby, you’ll like this better if you breathe.

She lets herself sink into it when Minhee’s hands touch her all over, making her squirm as her callouses touch the soft surface of her stomach and venture up her torso, under her shirt.

She whines a loud, broken sound when the delicious roughness of Minhee’s fingers brushes against her nipples, where they’ve always been so sensitive to attention.

“Sensitive, baby?”

Jisu answers with her body. She arches into Minhee’s touch, back bowing out while she watches Minhee catch her own lips in between her teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

Jisu has had daydreams about that look being directed towards her. Faced with the reality of it all, she feels herself get even wetter; drenched. Itching for Minhee to pry her open.

“ Fuck. Baby, your scent has been driving me–you’re so pretty. Keep going. Make yourself feel good for me.”

She lets herself watch. Minhee is so focused on making Jisu feel good: lips trapped between her teeth, thighs tensed, one hand guiding her hips so that Jisu can chase her own orgasm and one hand pinching and tugging at her nipple.

Jisu’s hips stutter when Minhee pulls up her shirt and wraps a mouth around one of them, teasing with the suggestion of biting down on her sensitive bud. She sucks and leaves Jisu’s chest spit-slick and shiny under their living room lights.

“For y-you,” she gasps out. “ Minhee. Yours, just for you. Please,” she exhales. “Can I cum? Let me cum, please plea—you’re making me feel good, baby.”

Minhee’s hips jerk upwards at that, and Jisu feels a rush of power at bringing the usually calm, collected version of her to this point. A part of her notes down the reaction, adds it to an ever-growing encyclopaedia. She wants to know how to unravel the woman in front of her, like this.

Debauched, breathing heavily, red from the neck-down. Jisu wants to take off the layers between them so she can keep looking at how far down the patches of red on Minhee’s body go.

They lock eyes, and Jisu sees wild desperation reflecting back at her (maybe giving in means taking creative liberties. Making up things where they were never there before. Jisu doesn’t spare the unchecked emotion in Minhee’s eyes much thought beyond that).

Her hands find the waistband of Jisu’s shorts, and Jisu’s so close.

She feels her whole body strung; taut. A live, electric wire.

Minhee pulls her towards her, licking into her mouth until the room is full of their messy sounds. Then, finally, with Jisu’s please and more punctuating the silences between their kisses, she dips one finger below the hem of her shorts.

Jisu jerks forward when Minhee’s fingers, warm and gentle, move towards where Jisu’s so wet that Minhee can probably feel it soaking all the fabric that separates them. She’s embarrassed and so turned on that everything turns into mush.

She’s driven by her need when she pushes her pelvis forward so that Minhee can reach the warm wetness of her pussy faster. “Fuck me, already. Please.”

Controlled by some force alien to her, she whimpers into Minhee’s mouth. So, so desperate. “Unnie,” she whines like she’s begging for it. She is begging for it.

Minhee moans when she makes contact, and Jisu jerks into the touch. “Unnie will fuck you. Be patient, Ha—shit. You’re so wet.”

Jisu bites down on her lip hard enough to taste copper when Minhee draws back, pulling at the elastic of her shorts until she can look at Jisu—bare, wet, glistening in the low-light. Minhee looks dazed. Open-mouthed only in the way that she gets when she’s speechless.

Minhee is still watching. Eyes unmoving, fixed at the place where her finger brushes against Jisu’s slick-covered folds, spreading it around. Jisu can’t hold back the choked gasp that erupts out of her when Minhee’s hips kick up and she feels her dick press right against where she would only if—

“When will you get inside me? Just—inside me, already,” she whines, whines, whines. Why isn’t it working?

“So wet for me. You’re going to feel good around me, Jisu-yah.” She looks at Jisu so intensely she might as well be looking into her. “Will you be patient?”

Jisu whines in disagreement. Presses her hips down and reaches for the waistband of Minhee’s pants, trying to pull.

“No? Baby. It’ll be good if you’re patient. Don’t you want it to be good for unnie?”

All the fight leaves Jisu’s body. “Yes,” she gasps out. “Touch me, please. Unnie. Need it so bad.”

“Unnie’s been touching you this whole time, angel.” Minhee presses down harder where her index and middle finger are making direct contact with her clit. “So greedy. I get near you and you’re already riding my fingers. What am I going to do with you?”

Minhee’s eyes follow the movement of Jisu’s hips, growing increasingly frantic and uncoordinated on her fingers. Grinding down.

“Sweetheart. You look,” Minhee sounds pained, and Jisu is drunk on it. “—fuck. You want to cum?” Jisu lets out a litany of yesyesyespleaseletme and puts her hands on Minhee’s shoulders, using them as support to ride her fingers as best as she can.

She can barely keep herself up.

“Cum for me. So good. You’re so good,” Minhee speaks into the air between them.

Everything in Jisu is on fire when Minhee rubs quick circles, pressing down on Jisu’s swollen clit in repeated motions that make more slick gush out of her. Her fingers move clockwise one final time before Jisu’s shaking with the force of her release.

“Good girl,” Minhee groans into her mouth, and Jisu seizes up all over. She cums, getting Minhee’s fingers messy and slippery. “My baby. So good—fuck . So pretty.”

Minhee presses down one more time, making Jisu twitch in sensitivity, before she’s removing her hand from Jisu’s shorts and patting over her. She gathers Jisu up into her arms.

“Unnie,” Jisu whines into Minhee’s hair, soft all around her. “What about you? I want to get you off, too.” She leans back and pouts at her, ready to beg if it comes to it.

Minhee’s breath hitches before she lets out a small groan when Jisu shifts on top of her.

She looks off to the side, exhaling. “I…don’t worry about me, baby. A pretty thing like you on top of me,” she brings her eyes back to take in Jisu’s flushed face. “—you didn’t need to do much.”

Jisu whimpers when she realises what Minhee means, finally registering the wet patch on Minhee’s pants for what it is.

“Up. Let’s clean you up.”

Despite the instruction, Jisu doesn’t have to move a single muscle. Minhee just wraps her hands around her thighs and lifts off the couch like it’s easy as breathing.

Now that she’s given in to this, though, she really doesn’t know what comes next.

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!

Jisu

Today 18:54

i am down horrendous for minhee and im in love with her and i don’t know what to do and it’s getting worse oh god like pls i’m digging it deeper for myself and i feel like i’m doing everything wrong

Jisu backspaces the entire message, putting her phone down and far, far away from her before Jeongin breaks into the apartment to do a wellness check.

Minhee sets a steaming cup of tea down in Jisu’s hands, cupping them from the bottom. Minhee can probably see how boneless Jisu feels. It’s sweet of her to support her hands so that the cup doesn’t fall with how limp her body is in the aftermath of—

“Jisu-yah. Honey, how are you feeling?”

Ever since she came out of the shower, Jisu has been feeling, well…embarrassed. Was she too much? Was that normal? Does Minhee like her anymore?

“Han-ah,” Minhee’s finger pulls her chin upwards until she’s looking right at that beautiful, devastating face, which is creased in concern.

Belatedly, Jisu realises that Minhee must have changed after cleaning Jisu up with careful, focused hands and placing her on her bed, telling her to stay there until she came back. Jisu hasn’t moved an inch since then.

“Aish, I can hear your brain zooming past me at the speed of light. Come back to me, little star,” Minhee says softly, thumbing over the skin of Jisu’s chin like it’s the most fragile thing she’s ever held.

Minhee sits next to Jisu and applies pressure below Jisu’s hands, pushing upwards until Jisu’s taking a sip of the tea. She gulps, letting the taste and feel of the brew that she usually drinks when her nerves are working in overdrive sink in. So thoughtful, even when she makes tea.

Minhee takes the cup out of her hands and puts it on Jisu’s nightstand.

“Better?” Jisu just blinks at her. “A little better, maybe? Still thinking too much?” Minhee’s fingers brush over Jisu’s forehead like she’s trying to open a door and read her mind.

If it was possible, Jisu’s almost certain that she would let her. Even if it’s terrifying, at least it would mean she doesn’t have to speak and potentially trip on her words.

She nods minutely. “Yes, unnie.” Her voice is a little hoarse, evidencing the way that her body has been working overtime.

Lost inside her head, barely moving a muscle or making a sound since Minhee sat her down.

Minhee sighs and puts her hands in Jisu’s hair, running her fingers through messy waves until the largest of the knots are untangled. Jisu’s willing to bear the consequences of losing volume in the root of her hair if it means that she gets to have the heavy weight of Minhee’s fingers, keeping her grounded.

She lets out a pleased hum, her eyes fluttering closed. She could sit like this forever.

“Jisu.”

“Hmm?” She leans into Minhee’s touch. Their bodies are facing each other now.

“I liked everything that we did.” Minhee lets out a chuckle, and Jisu’s eyes blink open.

“I really, really liked it. You were perfect. Everything…ah—what do I say? I’m not as good with words as you.”

Ironic. Jisu wishes she was good with the words she had for Minhee—if she was, maybe Minhee wouldn’t be so nice right now.

Maybe if Jisu said every lovesick thing floating around in her mind, Minhee would have long-since put space between them. Minhee would do it all to make sure that Jisu’s heart, cracking at the edges with how much Jisu loves her, would have the time to mend itself.

She knows how selfless Minhee is. She would probably tell her we should spend some time apart so that Jisu has the time to get over Minhee. And so she remains selfish and keeps all the words she has for Minhee tucked away deep inside her heart.

Too selfish. She’d rather take what she gets right now than have nothing at all.

Darting from one corner of Minhee’s face to another, Jisu takes in the blush colouring her best friend’s cheeks red, ears scarlet. She looks into Minhee’s eyes, and her thoughts stutter in the quiet confines of her mind.

There are no words that Jisu’s songwriter brain could come up with to explain the way they seem to sparkle under the trickle of moonlight sneaking into their room. Remnants of the late evening sky, broken-off and breathing right in front of her.

Not for the first time, Jisu remembers that this is Minhee. The same woman that tripped on air in front of her and then tried to play it off like she was doing stretches for a full split, right in the middle of their living room. The same woman that has seen her through so much.

It’s just Minhee, but it’s also Minhee.

“I really liked it too, unnie. You’re sexy,” Jisu responds, unable to bite back her fond, sick-in-love smile (The same one that has been captured in enough candid pictures for Seungmin to host an intervention for her emotional state and call it a rescue-the-homosexual party. She remains firmly unrescued so she doesn’t really know, to this day, what the point of it was).

She’ll do now what she did then, when someone off-handedly told Minhee and Jisu to stop being such lovebirds, already.

Scoot closer to Minhee, place herself in a space next to her. Let herself feel everything she feels for her. It would be unfair to deny Minhee the love that she so clearly deserves.

Minhee looks at the wall opposite from them, cheeks burning like she’s embarrassed by Jisu’s compliment. It’s so cute that Jisu’s teeth ache with an urge to bite Minhee’s soft cheek.

She takes in the stray piece of dark hair covering Minhee’s eyes and wonders if there is a world in which she isn’t gripped by the urge to move it out of her eyes, twirl it around her finger.

She puts her head on Minhee’s shoulder, turning so that they’re in the same bubble. Close enough that their noses would brush if Minhee turned her head, too. Jisu takes the strand of Minhee’s hair between her fingers and twists until it forms a tight ringlet around her index.

The smell of Minhee’s shampoo, familiar and pleasant, soothes her enough to keep going.

“And unnie is soooo pretty, I liked it all,” she hums contentedly, letting go of the ringlet and watching it unravel around her fingers, falling back against Minhee’s neck.

“Okay!” Minhee cuts into her internal spiral. Jisu giggles when she sees how red her ears are, the colour spreading down to her neck like a forest fire.

“We both liked it. That’s good, Han-ah. Nothing for either of us to worry about.”

Minhee pulls at Jisu’s shoulders until they’re hugging, and Minhee’s breathing deeply above Jisu’s head. “Unnie will take care of you. If you want to continue…”

She pulls back and watches Minhee nervously break eye contact, and Jisu smiles. She smiles so much that her cheeks hurt. It’s rare for her face to not become crescent-shaped around Minhee.

“Yes,” she breathes out. “You’ll show me what it’s like, for real? I’m comfortable with you. I…” Jisu steels herself, realising the fact as she speaks it. “I wasn’t nervous at all, actually. With you. I didn’t feel that weird pit in my stomach, and that’s rare. I liked everything you—everything we did.”

Minhee looks up at her like she’s surprised. Jisu must not be doing a good enough job.

“You take good care of me,” she tacks on to the end. Minhee needs to know, no matter how aggressively the confession is making Jisu’s face blush and her hands shake.

Then, it’s like a switch is flipped in Minhee. Emboldened by Jisu’s words, Minhee’s shoulders get squarer and her eyes take on a glint of something unbidden, unexplored. Something Jisu wants to live inside.

Minhee takes one of Jisu’s wrists in her hand and rubs her thumb across where her pulse is, gentle as a caress. Suddenly, she squeezes until Jisu can feel it, the shape of Minhee’s fingers, the steady pattern of her heartbeat—rhythmic against Minhee’s fingers pressing, pressing.

“Go on. Tell me what you liked,” Minhee asks. Demands, more like it. From the look in her eyes, it’s more than a simple request for praise.

“You’re always asking me to tell you,” Jisu whines. Her hands are clammy.

“You got a little distracted the last time I asked you, baby.” Minhee smiles at her, and it lies at the edge of something mean.

Jisu knows that Minhee has some idea about what exactly it is that she likes. One too many nights where a drunk Jisu returned home to a sexy alpha often resulted in her throwing everything that she enjoys at Minhee, tongue loose under a drunken haze.

Her drunk mind had the tendency to convince itself that if she acted as bratty as possible, maybe Minhee would put her in her place. Minhee, unfortunately, was too respectful to pull anything like that.

Determination—as she has learned—is Minhee’s strong suit, and so Jisu concedes.

“I liked it when you were a little mean to me, and when you called me good.” The only thing stopping Jisu from squirming right now is the firm hold of Minhee’s hand around her own. “...and when you made me wait. When you said you’ll make me wait. I like it.”

When Minhee smiles, her teeth are bared in an illusion of invitation. Jisu wants so much, so deeply, to lick her whole. Dip inside and intertwine until they’re stitched together.

“Good. So good for telling me. You like it when I call you baby?”

Jisu nods jerkily. Minhee takes Jisu’s hand and kisses the back of it, lightly. Like a reward.

“What about when I hold you down?”

“Yes.” Jisu averts her eyes, shy all of a sudden. “Want you to hold me down, move me around. Anything.”

“And when unnie wants to put you in your place a little? For being such a brat?”

“I’m not!” Minhee has Jisu whining already, and she’s embarrassed as soon as the protest is out of her mouth. Even more embarrassed when Minhee’s face has a satisfied smirk on it.

“...unnie can try to put me in my place.”

Minhee scoffs, and—to be fair—Jisu isn’t sure that even she believes the weak fight she’s putting up through her adamant tone, which fizzles out and gets a bit breathy as Minhee keeps touching her.

“I meant what I said, baby. This…” Minhee’s hand, however small, wraps around the circumference of Jisu’s wrist completely. She wants to be enveloped like that. “This is going to be slow. I’m going to take my time–”

“Yes.” Jisu’s only mildly embarrassed at how quickly it spills out of her mouth. “Yes to everything. I want it.”

“Your impatience is going to be a problem, Jisu-yah,” Minhee singsongs, but the look in her eyes doesn’t look playful in the least. “I can’t promise you that you’ll always like it, darling. But unnie will ease you into it. Into taking more than what you’ve taken before.”

Jisu’s breath quickens, chest heaving lightly under the way Minhee appraises her from head to toe. Like she’s sizing her up.

“Then, once I decide that you’re ready, I’ll fuck you.”

Jisu whimpers, turned on beyond belief already. Is this what life was going to be like with Minhee, unleashed like this?

Minhee reaches towards her, titling her body forward and so close that Jisu’s eyes are closing, lips lightly puckering for a kiss. She cracks one eye open in confusion when the only thing that happens is Minhee’s forehead bumping against her own in one, quick push. Like a knock against her head.

“Your tea, baby. Drink.”

Minhee squeezes Jisu’s wrist with her free hand one last time before letting go. “Wha—”

“You should finish that and sleep for now, angel,” Minhee continues as she pecks Jisu’s forehead. “I will see you in the morning before I leave for work.”

While shutting the door close, Minhee sends one infuriating wink her way.

And Minhee leaves. Colouring Jisu’s room pink and green, leaving it transformed—with leaves stemming from the top, juice bursting all around her, dreams full of being consumed. Jisu breathes in the strawberry scent that lingers in the air, more sweet than sour.

When Jisu makes herself cum on her fingers before giving in to sleep, she does it with Minhee’s name on her mouth.

Part of her, not hidden anymore in this strange space that Minhee and Jisu have placed themselves, hopes that Minhee can hear her.

Jeonginnie

Today 13:11

r you fuckin?

Jisu

What

Jeonginnie

idk ur like….glowing and it better not be pregnancy im not rich enough to be the best uncle in the world yet

and uve been smiling with too much teeth

Jisu

……

Jeonginnie

you ARE FUCKING

that creepy little smile on your face is telling me stories i don’t want to hear

Jisu

STOP DONT MAKE ME LAUGH

Yang jeongin focus on our esteemed lecturer.

Jeonginnie

who is fucking you …..????

is it minhee….are my minhee x jisu hopes coming true

OH MYF

IFHFIEHGOE

MINHEE \

MINHEEEE IS FUCKING YOU

Jisu

EVERYONE BEHIND US CAN SEE UR LIGHT MODE HIGH BRIGHTNESS SCREEN

Jeonginnie

SHUT THE FUCK UP I NEED TO GO HYPERVENTILATE INTO A BAG

this is lesbian history

o my god

so you guys are dating?

Jisu

Jeonginnie

fuck.

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