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A whimper slipped from her lips, and Minjeong pulled her legs up, squeezing the pillow tighter between them. Her finger slid across the screen, scrolling through another video in a count she had long since lost.
At last, she had a free day. It was already evening, since she had slept until noon, but she could still go outside, play with Ponyo, or or go over to Yizhuo’s, even though her laughter carried into Minjeong’s room from several walls away.
But everything around her felt wrong, because Jimin wasn’t there.
Jimin, whom Minjeong desperately needed.
She often got irritated when, even on her days off, Jimin somehow found something to do and, instead of spending time together, left and only came back closer to night.
It wasn’t as if Minjeong ever said her needs out loud, but wasn’t that obvious?
She exhaled, turning onto her stomach. Warmth immediately spread somewhere low inside, leaving behind a lingering sensation Minjeong felt far too clearly. Her throat went dry, and she tried to swallow, closing her eyes.
Her chest began to rise in broken jerks because there suddenly wasn’t enough air. Her face pressed into the pillow, and Minjeong clenched the fabric of the couch until her knuckles turned white, hoping Jimin would come back as soon as possible.
The wind drifted across the floor, and the leaves of the trees brushed against the window, but the room was still hot.
Hot enough that Minjeong was ready to take off all her clothes.
Lifting her head, she looked again at the phone she was still holding. Her finger moved on, scrolling through another video, and she hoped her thoughts would finally catch on at least one of the stupid puppies on the screen.
But the longer she tried, the more the warmth turned into heat. It rose from inside, slowly spread through her body, and had already reached her face, making her cheeks burn.
Something between an exhale and a sound that resembled a plea slipped from her lips, and she turned onto her side once again.
Her nose caught the faintest scent of perfume. And the heat that had settled in every cell of her body flared up with new force.
Minjeong froze.
She hated that Jimin’s scent lingered even after she left. On the pillow. On the blanket. Somewhere in the air Minjeong was now breathing in too deeply, as if she could breathe in enough of it to make things easier.
Her eyes caught on the plush cat Jimin had brought over one evening with a stupid smile and the declaration that it would live with them now.
The thoughts struck painfully, and she immediately shook her head when every other word inside began to sound the same.
You want it so much.
Do it.
No one will know.
She bit the inside of her cheek, pressing her legs together in pitiful attempts to ease the heat, already knowing it was completely useless.
Sometimes she wanted to yell at Jimin the moment she crossed the threshold of the apartment, saying something like, “Where have you been?” But Minjeong was too weak to admit the real reason for her anger. And too weak to waste time on empty conversations when she finally had a chance to get what she practically dreamed of.
The fabric of her shorts clung unpleasantly to her skin. Her fingers reached down to pull it away, and the touch ran through her entire body like an electric shock. Minjeong bit her lip, closing her eyes. The phone slipped out of her hand, and she immediately grabbed it again, regretting it at once.
jiminunnie: minjeong-ie, how are you?
Her trembling finger touched the screen.
mindong: i’m fine
The voice inside grew louder, greedily demanding that Minjeong call Jimin. That she hear that whimpering voice, those pathetic attempts to do at least something, and quiet pleas for her to come home faster.
But Minjeong would never allow herself to. In her picture of the world, Jimin had to figure it out herself. Figure out what terrible things she was doing to Minjeong.
Things that made Minjeong give in to everything—her own moodiness, stubbornness, and pitiful desire to hold out until the very end.
When it became so tight inside that her fingers reached for the phone on their own.
mindong: when will you be home?
jiminunnie: did you miss me?
Minjeong pressed her lips together and tensed her whole body so her fingers wouldn’t type the real reason for the question on their own.
mindong: maybe
Her tongue slid over her dry lip while, together with the heat, something continued to ripen inside—something she couldn’t name. Desire mixed with truth. With the impulsive urge to say that truth right now.
To type it. To ask. To call and say how bad she felt.
jiminunnie: i’ll be home soon, but Ryujin stepped away for a bit and i’m sitting in the car alone. what are you doing?
Oh no.
Jimin wasn’t supposed to know what Minjeong was doing. How she pressed her legs together, dug her nails into the pillow while the image of Jimin in her head became too clear.
mindong: nothing
jiminunnie: are you asking when i’m coming home just because you’re bored?
Jimin must have chuckled when she typed that message, and Minjeong could even picture that sly, teasing smile on her lips.
Minjeong didn't know how to reply. Could she even type anything coherent while in this state?
Her eyes closed, and a bead of sweat appeared on her neck, slowly trickling down somewhere under her collar. Her free hand twitched, sliding down the fabric of her shirt lower and lower.
Her lips parted, and Minjeong sharply inhaled when her fingers found the fabric of her shorts, pausing at the waistband.
She could feel how much she wanted it, the moisture pooling between her legs starting to cling to her skin.
The phone vibrated in her hand, and she snapped her eyes open in horror, as if she'd just been caught.
And that's exactly what it felt like when she saw Jimin was calling her.
Her body went cold despite how hot she'd been just seconds ago. The hand that had been just shy of touching where she wanted it most froze.
She couldn't answer, because she knew perfectly well: even if Jimin talked about something mundane, moans would start escaping her mouth. She'd try to swallow, pretend everything was fine, answer out of context, and hope Jimin wouldn't notice.
But what if...
Her finger touched the screen, and a voice came through above her ear.
"Why did you take so long to answer?"
Minjeong swallowed.
"I went to the bathroom." Her voice trembled. She could hear it, and maybe for the first time in her life, she wanted to shut up.
"Mmm, okay," Jimin drawled. "Ryujin still isn't back, even though she said she'd be gone for a couple of minutes."
"W-where is she?"
Her hand slid further, hooking the waistband of her underwear. Minjeong could have sworn the thin skin of her fingers could feel the heat radiating from her.
"She went to the store for water. But I think she decided to buy everything there."
Minjeong let out a silent huff, and her hand finally touched where it probably shouldn't have been during a phone call.
Silence fell. She tried to hold her breath, barely grazing herself with fingers that were already becoming wet.
"Jimin..."
It came out too pitiful, and maybe if Jimin weren't an idiot, she'd have understood what was going on. But in response came a perfectly calm:
"Hm?"
"You..."
Minjeong exhaled sharply, pressing harder. It was too tight. Inside, outside—where the fabric pressed against her hand, bringing it even closer.
"How... are you?" she finally managed.
"Good."
And Jimin started listing everything she'd done all day. Starting from some jokes Ryujin made, to how Sua joined them but ultimately left, blaming it on: "I'd rather lie under the air conditioner than walk under the sun counting my last seconds of life."
Minjeong tried to respond, really. But sometimes it came out so badly that she had to bury her face in the pillow to muffle herself.
"Yeah..." escaped on some question, and the word turned into an obscene sound. She immediately coughed, trying to suppress the sounds inside her, because her fingers had found that sensitive spot.
"Minjeong?"
"Yes?..."
"Are you okay?" Jimin chuckled, but worry crept into her voice. "You're just... breathing heavily."
If only Jimin knew...
"Y-yes." Her finger pressed harder, and Minjeong squeezed her eyes shut until white spots appeared before them.
Sweat covered her body, and her shirt started clinging unpleasantly to her back. Her arm was stiff and aching, but the ache between her legs was far stronger.
"What are you doing?" Jimin lowered her voice, and... god, she must have figured it out. "Mmm? Minjeong?"
She drew out her name, as if savoring every syllable, perfectly knowing how pathetic and needy Minjeong became when she heard that tone.
Minjeong didn't answer. She couldn't, when she imagined Jimin hovering over her, whispering the most terrible yet desirable words into her ear, scorching it with hot breath.
The first moan escaped her lips. Not muffled, not swallowed halfway, but a real one, laying Minjeong's desire completely bare.
"Jimin, I..." she exhaled, "want it so much..."
"What do you want?" she chuckled. Jimin always loved to tease Minjeong, and Minjeong loved falling for it, hiding it all behind irritation.
"For y-you to come..."
"And?"
"Help me. Please..."
"Oh..." Jimin drew out too theatrically. "And how exactly can I help you?"
Minjeong lifted her leg, letting her fingers slide inside. Her heart pounded somewhere in her throat, tangling with another moan. Her bangs stuck to her forehead, getting into her eyes, but she couldn't care less. So much so that, pushing her fingers deeper, another moan escaped her lips.
There wasn't enough oxygen, and she was choking, but she had to keep answering Jimin, because she liked it.
Liked trying for Jimin, even when she had no strength for words. Even when she just wanted to stay silent, she kept talking, wanting to hear Jimin's voice. Wanting that voice to help her.
"Mh... touch me."
"But you're doing just fine on your own. Minjeong is a good girl, isn't she?"
Her walls clenched, and it became tight. Minjeong never admitted that she liked being praised, but when she heard it from Jimin... Minjeong needed so much more.
She lowered the phone and finally started pulling her shorts down. She knew Jimin could get her off even like this, but she wanted to savor it. Stretch out the moment, feeling every thrust inside herself, hearing every word from Jimin that would make her stomach flip.
"What should I do for you?" came from the side, while Minjeong, turning onto her back, tried to take off her shorts.
"T-talk to me, please."
"Will that help you?"
The fabric ended up somewhere on the floor, and her fingers slipped back inside with full freedom, spreading the sticky fluid over her bare skin.
"Y-yes, a lot..."
The phone lay somewhere to her right on the couch, and her free hand slid under her shirt. Her palm squeezed her breast, and her back arched toward every thrust.
Her movements became chaotic. Minjeong bit her lip no longer even hoping to muffle the moans, but because the heat was becoming unbearable.
Her cheeks burned from the wet, squelching sounds hanging in the room. From how easily Jimin did this to her. From how her stomach started aching even before Jimin was in the same room with her. From how these pathetic attempts weren't enough to truly make her feel good.
Her short nails scratched her pale chest skin, and tilting her head toward the phone, Minjeong let out such a sweet whimper that Jimin, who had been about to say something, sharply exhaled.
"Jimin, I..." The sounds grew louder, her wrist, despite the ache from the uneven movements, began moving faster, pushing her fingers deeper. Touching those places where Minjeong was ready to howl. "So close..."
"You want to continue when I get back?"
"P-please, I need you so much..."
"But you'll have to ask," she chuckled. Jimin always knew how much Minjeong wanted it. But hearing it was so much better.
"I..." Her body jerked. Her legs began to tremble, as if trying to keep up with the spasms in her chest where oxygen was running out. "I'll a-ask..."
"And you won't even argue with me? What a delight."
Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, and Minjeong started whimpering. Everything around her—whether it was the noise of cars passing outside the window or Jimin's words—dissolved in her ragged breathing and the obscene sounds her fingers were making.
Her hand slipped out with a wet sound and immediately grabbed the plush cat. Minjeong didn't think. She just wanted all her traces to stay there.
She rose onto her knees and immediately dropped down with her full weight, feeling the soft fabric between her legs. An exhale escaped her lips. She was so wet that her thighs began moving on their own without any effort, smearing all the fluid over the toy.
"Fuck, it feels so good..." Her hand gripped the back of the couch, and Minjeong arched sharply, throwing her head back. A bead of sweat trickled down her neck, slowly sliding into the hollow between her collarbones.
Minjeong was crazy with the thought that all her juices were staying on the toy Jimin had given her. That there would be a stain on it. Proof of how good she felt.
She thrust her hips harder, lowering her hand further. Her fingers began drawing circles, helping herself. Her moans turned into something completely unintelligible — pleas, whimpers, sobs escaped her mouth. And she loved that Jimin could perfectly hear all of it.
The thought that somewhere on the other side of the city, sitting in a car, Jimin was squeezing her legs together from these sweet sounds, unable to do absolutely anything, made Minjeong squeeze her eyes shut. She jerked sharply and moaned so loudly that at some point even she thought it was too loud.
Her hand slipped out from under her shirt and immediately covered her mouth. Minjeong thrust her hips a couple more times, taking everything from it. Letting that sweet feeling wash over her body as the ground seemed to disappear from under her feet.
Her body began to shudder, and she bent over, lowering her gaze to what she'd done. The gray fabric was soaked, her thighs were sticky, and her hiked-up shirt exposed her stomach. She bit her lip, her fingers gripping the edge of the toy tighter.
Jimin was silent, and only now did Minjeong feel awkward.
As if awareness had broken through the thick of thoughts in her head.
She cleared her throat, carefully climbing off and turning toward the phone. Her thigh touched the wet spot, and Minjeong winced.
"Anyway, I'll be waiting for you at home."
--- ---
Droplets trickled down her pale skin as Minjeong, standing in front of the mirror, applied a ton of creams to her face. The white towel tied around her chest exposed her sharp collarbones, and her damp hair barely brushed her shoulders.
Jimin still wasn't there. It didn't make Minjeong angry. It was worse. She was furious. Because Jimin knew perfectly well what happened to Minjeong, and still kept wandering around somewhere, not even texting that she'd be late.
And even if the front door opened right now, a smile wouldn't flicker across her face, and Minjeong wouldn't run into her arms with the feeling that what she'd been waiting for all day was finally happening.
Minjeong wouldn't even leave the bathroom.
And if Jimin came in, hugged her from behind, burying her nose in her neck, Minjeong wouldn't do anything except push her away and walk out, slamming the door behind her.
Her jaw tightened, and with some kind of anger, she snapped the cream lid shut and set it on the sink.
Ponyo, who had been following her around like a shadow, got tired and was now quietly snoring on the floor near the couch. It made her smile for a second, if not for the clock her gaze immediately slid to.
Waiting was pointless, or rather... Minjeong didn't want to wait. Didn't want to be like a puppy waiting for its owner all day just so he'd finally pay attention to her.
She turned off the light in the kitchen, after pouring water for Ponyo. Ideally, she needed to wash the dishes, which had already turned into a whole mountain near the sink, but that thought almost immediately gave way to the desire to fall asleep before Jimin came home.
She dropped the towel on the bed, pulling on a long, knee-length shirt. Aeri had stopped by a couple of times, looking for shorts she'd "definitely left at your place," so the chair by the bed was piled with clothes, but Minjeong was too lazy to sort through them.
Her body touched the bed, and just at that moment, Minjeong heard the key touch the lock and slowly turn.
She exhaled in irritation, pulling the blanket almost up to her shoulders and burying her face in the pillow. Even if she didn't fall asleep in these few minutes, Jimin had to be convinced that Minjeong was already asleep.
The rustling of bags and soft footsteps came from the hallway, as if Jimin really believed Minjeong was asleep. Then came Ponyo's joyful whimper and Jimin's barely audible whisper, immediately asking her to be quiet.
The sound of water came from the slightly open bathroom door. Jimin must have been washing her hands. Then she quietly set something down on the counter and, as usual, started putting groceries away, trying not to slam the cabinet doors. Somewhere a glass bottle clinked, then almost immediately a fridge door closed quietly.
Ponyo's paws tapped across the floor, clearly still circling around her, and Minjeong could even picture Jimin scratching behind her ear while unpacking the bags.
A few seconds later, a short chuckle rang out.
Like Ponyo had done something stupid again.
Of course.
Even with the dog, Jimin spent more time than with her.
Footsteps followed, and a strip of light appeared on the wall as the door cracked open slightly.
"Minjeong?" Jimin called quietly, approaching the bed. "Are you asleep?"
Silence in response. Minjeong didn't even move, continuing to lie with her eyes closed, hoping with all her soul that Jimin would turn around and leave.
She didn't have the strength to fight.
"Minjeong?" A hand carefully touched her shoulder, giving it a slight push.
She clenched her jaw, repeating over and over in her head: don't move, don't speak, don't look.
But Jimin pushed a little harder, and the patience that was already hanging by a thread suddenly ran out. Minjeong's eyes flew open, she flipped onto her back, and stared at Jimin with a look full of fury.
"What?!" she nearly shouted.
Jimin immediately froze, like a kitten that didn't understand why it was being scolded.
"I..." she hesitated, not even knowing how to respond. "Just wanted to check if you were asleep or not."
"You don't have to push me for that! You woke me up."
"S-sorry..."
Jimin guiltily pressed her lips together and, taking her hand off Minjeong, stepped back.
"How am I supposed to fall asleep now?"
"I'm sorry, please."
"Your apologies won't make me fall asleep instantly!"
"Do you want me to lie down with you?"
Minjeong clicked her tongue and immediately turned her back to her, making it clear the conversation was over. She closed her eyes, while anger sat like a painful lump inside her, scratching from within.
"Come on... Minjeong..."
Jimin walked around the bed, and the mattress sagged under her weight. Opening her eyes slightly, Minjeong saw her carefully lie down next to her. A hand almost weightlessly touched her shoulder, like an attempt to apologize without words. Minjeong immediately flinched, shaking the hand off.
Jimin froze.
But a few seconds later, she carefully reached for her again. Her fingertips barely brushed Minjeong's elbow. Minjeong irritably shrugged her shoulder, moving even further to the very edge of the bed.
"Don't touch me."
"Do you want me to bring you some water?"
Silence.
"Or make you some tea?"
Minjeong didn't even move.
"Maybe you need something?"
"What I needed was for you to come on time."
"I'm sorry. I really got held up. We stopped by the store, then there was traffic... I wanted to text, but..."
"But you didn't."
"I didn't," she agreed quietly. "I'm sorry. It's my fault."
"You always do this." The words piled up on her tongue like sharp knives, ready to fly straight at Jimin. With each word, her voice grew stronger. "Always, when we have a chance to spend the day together, you fucking disappear somewhere. Sometimes I feel like we don't even live together."
Jimin was silent. Whether she didn't know what to answer, or understood that arguing with the truth was pointless—it didn't matter. Maybe it was even better that way. Minjeong wouldn't have been able to handle more empty words.
"Haven't you thought about moving somewhere? What difference would it make? Whether you just sleep and eat here, or do the same thing somewhere else. It's not like I'd be around."
"Minjeong, don't talk nonsense."
Jimin propped herself up on her elbows, trying to make out at least something in the depths of Minjeong's eyes in the darkness. Either way, no matter how hard she tried, she wouldn't have seen anything good there.
"I'm telling it like it is. And you know it."
"So I can't see my friends?"
"You can. That's why I'm suggesting you move out."
Jimin let out a heavy breath, turning away and studying the patches of light from cars on the wallpaper. She bit her lip and began tapping an uneven rhythm on the mattress with her finger.
"I really didn't think I'd upset you."
"Of course you didn't."
Sometimes Minjeong enjoyed it—stretching out the moment when Jimin pressed her lips together and apologized. As if the world really revolved only around her.
But she couldn't control Jimin's anxiety, so she had to put aside the pleasure and pretend the apologies were accepted, even if sometimes she wasn't even really offended.
Minjeong sighed, turning onto her back. Her eyes slid over the withdrawn Jimin, who was still silent, still thinking of how to apologize better.
"But if you really regret it that much, you can do something for me," Minjeong whispered.
Jimin immediately turned, and a light smile touched her lips. Without words, it was clear—she was ready to do anything to make Minjeong stop sulking.
"What?"
"Continue." She pushed herself up, palms pressing into the mattress. "But I won't ask. You don't deserve it."
Jimin huffed. Of course. Minjeong was always like that. But how good that it was only until the moment when she became painfully unsatisfied.
"Are you sure?"
"You just asked for forgiveness, and now you're starting to argue with me again?" Minjeong frowned, her almost judgmental gaze sliding over Jimin, who was slowly beginning to move closer.
She swung her leg over, trapping Minjeong's fragile body between her thighs.
"I know you will."
"I won't ask for anything."
"Good, darling. Whatever you say."
Her nose slid along Minjeong's neck, scorching the thin skin with hot breath, which for a second became treacherously sensitive, and a barely noticeable tremor ran through Minjeong's body.
The hands she was bracing herself on the mattress with were slowly losing strength, and Minjeong lowered herself onto her elbows, involuntarily increasing the distance between them.
"You missed me, didn't you?" Jimin asked slyly, and as if by accident, trailed a finger from Minjeong's neck down to the bottom of her stomach.
Something inside began to smolder in this languid, viscous anticipation that Minjeong hated most of all. The heat spread, driving away the last remnants of anger, touching her chest, her neck, her fingertips, making them tremble.
Jimin's weight was too tangible—the way her thighs squeezed Minjeong's body, the way Minjeong felt insignificant and small when Jimin loomed over her with that hungry look, as if Minjeong was the most desirable thing in the world.
"Don't you want to lie down?" Jimin huffed, leaning in even closer. Her hot breath touched Minjeong's face, and her body burst into new flames.
"I am lying down," Minjeong barely managed to say, biting her lip.
Jimin always did this. Even if they fought and Minjeong swore to herself she wouldn't talk to her anymore, it always ended the same way. She still ended up under Jimin, with only a few millimeters between their lips, and she had to wait.
Maybe someday she would have reached out first. But there was something cloyingly sweet about it. Viscous like honey. She would never get tired of watching Jimin's eyes slide over her face, her neck, her curves—as if seeing her for the first time and falling in love all over again.
Jimin's hand slid into her hair, pulling it back slightly. Minjeong had already opened her mouth to protest when their lips suddenly crashed together. Not like usual—slowly, giving time to adjust. But almost animalistically, as if Jimin was taking revenge for what Minjeong had done to her on the phone, drawing out her name mixed with moans.
A moan got stuck in her chest, and Minjeong, unable to keep up with the movements, still dropped onto her back, letting Jimin's chest press her into the bed. Teeth pulled at her lip until it was painfully sharp—and then, as if apologizing, Jimin ran her hot tongue over it, pushing it deeper.
Her fingers tangled in Jimin's hair, and it became very tight. Minjeong didn't know where to put her hands, grabbing at Jimin's shoulders, then at the edge of the blanket, then returning to her back again. Losing the rhythm, she parted her lips to breathe in, but Jimin immediately intercepted that breath, not letting her break the kiss.
Saliva smeared across her lips, her underwear clung to her skin, and Minjeong instinctively squeezed her legs together, catching a sharp, aching wave somewhere deep in her stomach.
Jimin's teeth slid along her jaw, leaving wet, barely visible marks on her skin. Minjeong's back arched toward her in a desperate desire to get more. To feel her body clench around Jimin's tongue and fill to the brim.
Her hand finally found its place in Jimin's hair, and Minjeong pressed down hard, forcing her lower—to where she wanted her most. Jimin's tongue slid along her neck, intertwining with kisses and light bites that sent jolts straight to the pit of her stomach, making her thighs clench and her underwear grow even wetter.
"I can stop right now," Jimin pulled away from her neck with a wet, smacking sound, and her voice dripped with mockery.
Minjeong had no strength left to argue. Even if she hadn't asked, Jimin would have done it anyway. She was too weak in front of Minjeong to refuse her. But then it would have dragged on with meaningless conversations, with that exhausting torture of words that Minjeong couldn't stand. She wanted it faster. For Jimin's face to finally be where it needed to be.
"Please..." she drawled, still desperately trying to catch her breath. "Go lower."
Her hand pressed harder on the back of Jimin's head, pushing her down. Jimin's fingers hooked the edge of Minjeong's shirt, lifted it—and hot lips touched the sweet spot just above her navel. The first loud, broken moan rolled through the room as Jimin bit down on the pale skin, leaving a red mark—and Minjeong arched like a bow, her fingers gripping the sheets.
She was wet to the point of shame. Her underwear clung to her skin, and she knew Jimin would see that humiliating spot on her panties, smirk, run a finger over it, and say something like: "Do you really want it that badly?"
Parting her lips, Jimin touched the waistband of her panties with her teeth—and slowly, agonizingly slowly, began pulling them down, not taking her eyes off Minjeong's arched, sweat-slicked neck. Her hand slid from her stomach higher, squeezed her breast with such force that Minjeong cried out, and even in the darkness behind her closed eyes, she saw everything start to blur.
"I... I c-can't..." Another moan broke free. "Just do something already..."
Bites were everywhere—on her thighs, on the inside of her legs, on her stomach. Everywhere Jimin wanted. Minjeong never stopped her, never asked her to do otherwise, because Jimin knew her too well. Every part of her body where she should press harder, or on the contrary, linger, slowly running her tongue over it.
Minjeong lifted her legs, helping to pull off the fabric that had already become her enemy and... of course.
"Fuck, you're so wet," Jimin drawled, slowly licking her lips.
Her hands gripped Minjeong's thighs and immediately spread them apart. Before a single word could escape her lips, Minjeong finally felt it. A hot tongue slid between her legs, collecting all the fluid in one long motion. A disgustingly wet sound mixed with Jimin's moans, which began to pound into Minjeong's body like electric jolts.
Her hips thrust forward on their own, and Minjeong pressed Jimin closer with all her might, because it felt that good.
Jimin traced slow circles with her tongue around the most sensitive spot—teasing, circling, not touching, circling again, until Minjeong started losing her mind.
It seemed like the air had ceased to exist in the room, giving way to these sounds that Minjeong was suffocating on. She was burning up, and the moment her shirt was hiked up again, Jimin's hand was immediately on her chest, squeezing hard.
Minjeong tried to close her thighs, because every new movement of that tongue was unbearable. Jimin traced circles, sometimes fast, sometimes agonizingly slow, sucked, released, pulled her in again, pounding Minjeong into the mattress. But all attempts to close her legs were futile. With a moan, she spread them again, letting Jimin do whatever she wanted.
Minjeong had dreamed too many times of being on Jimin's face. And maybe now, if she weren't so close to the edge, she would have pushed her onto the bed with force, straddling her and smearing Jimin's entire face with sweet, viscous fluid, making her lick every last drop.
Just that one thought made Minjeong whimper and thrust her hips toward Jimin's face with such force that if Jimin hadn't done this to her hundreds of times before, she would have definitely bitten her tongue.
Jimin's mouth was doing truly terrible things to her. Minjeong didn't know how anyone could be this good. Her tongue pushed inside again, and Minjeong sobbed, feeling something tight beginning to coil deep inside her.
"J-Jimin, I'm close..."
Minjeong couldn't see it, but she felt Jimin's smile. Agonizingly slowly, with deliberate laziness, she ran her tongue from bottom to top, and in that moment, the ground beneath Minjeong's body completely disappeared. Almost with a scream, she arched off the bed, gripping Jimin's hair.
"Fuck, ngh..." She bit her lip until she tasted the metallic, salty tang.
Her legs trembled, her thighs clenched around Jimin's head, but she didn't even think of stopping. No longer able to bear it, Minjeong pulled Jimin's hair back with force, trying to tear her away, to give herself at least a second of respite, but Jimin didn't give in—she only pulled Minjeong deeper into her mouth, licking off everything Minjeong was giving her.
"P-please, I c-can't anymore..."
Her face burned like fire, a vein bulged and pulsed on her neck, and her eyes were so watery that when Minjeong opened them, she saw nothing but white spots in front of her.
Minjeong heard the wet, loud sound of released lips, and in that same second, the air in the room turned icy. Wet, sticky cold touched her stomach, her thighs, everything that just moments ago had been burning from touch.
Jimin pushed herself up and looked into Minjeong's face. Her lips and chin glistened with moisture. She slowly licked herself clean, collecting the remnants, and that same satisfied, lazy smile settled on her face.
Minjeong squeezed her eyes shut, feeling tears mixed with sweat trickling down her cheek. Every movement echoed in the pit of her stomach with a dull, sweet ache, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to move for the next few minutes.
"Next time I won't be late," Jimin huffed, leaving a light, almost weightless kiss on Minjeong's cheek before collapsing next to her and burying her nose in the curve of her neck.