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Snow White & Bambi

Pairing: Yoonji x Reader (F X F) Rated: M / NC-17 Genre: Gender bend!AU, College!AU Warnings: Lots of anxiety, panic attack mentions Summary: She wasn’t even looking at you, but she might one day. In a classroom consisting of only twenty students, Min Yoonji might see you at the front of the room, skimming over words that weren’t yours, but were still riddled with meaningful similarities. An inside joke with yourself – that Yoonji was a lot like a Disney princess, visually anyway. ‘She was a princess, who was as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as ebony wood, and therefore, they named her Snow White.’

Sequel: Dragons & Bambi

Why was it that every time you saw her, your mouth went dry? Breathing was a simple task for most and yet, your lungs felt constricted, and useless. She was new three months ago, a transfer student from Daegu. You could hear it in the lazy slur of her words, whenever she’d been asked to read aloud during Literature class. Today you’d been called up and it was ironic that you found yourself reciting one of the Brothers Grimm best tales, eyes lifting from each line just to catch a glimpse of pale skin and soft black hair. She wasn’t even looking at you, but she might one day. In a classroom consisting of only twenty students, Min Yoonji might see you at the front of the room, skimming over words that weren’t yours, but were still riddled with meaningful similarities. An inside joke with yourself – that Yoonji was a lot like a Disney princess, visually anyway. ‘She was a princess, who was as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as ebony wood, and therefore, they named her Snow White.’ Yoonji’s skin was like fallen snow, like a cloud had permanently muddled her skin with its shadow. She was an ice storm with a calm that comes after and not a second before. There was no fair amount of subtlety to her existence. Bored, catlike eyes remained focused on the rain tapping on the window, as a pink tongue slid out across her bottom lip, before she returned to doing that pout-thing that made you forget how to breathe. It caused your voice to tremble throughout the next paragraph, which was enough to raise interest when the professor lifted his head with concern. Could you imagine? Nah, it’s all good, professor – it’s just that my gay ass is currently invested in being tongue fucked by Yoonji, is all. Please, go back to your Subway menu. You’d decided a long time ago that something had to change. Even if you knew that you would have to be the one to make the first approach, it was still difficult to follow through with it. And you weren’t the most articulate with your words. Yoonji was weighed the second she arrived, the popular girls trying her out, and passing her up once they realized that she was of the musically creative and athletic sort. One would think that the two would contradict itself, but it didn’t. Not when Yoonji played, whether it was in the music room on the piano, or out on the court. It made you question yourself, wondering what the hell you were good at, except pining. The class ended with the tale going unfinished and would be saved for tomorrow. You placed the book inside your bag and stalled in leaving, wondering if Yoonji would actually eat lunch today, or if she’d skip. Skipping meals was a too common occurrence with her, which worried you. Did she not have money? Did she not like the food…? A shoulder nudged into yours, the impact nearly sending you into the lockers with a shrill. Jimin was pleased with herself, “Allow me to help you be less obvious.” Your only friend was pure evil and a part of you believed Jimin only befriended you, because you were woefully short. She’d once said you did ‘something’ for her legs? So, really, you were a walking favor that Jimin cashed in on every single day. Rubbing at your sore arm, you continued down the hall, “I think being obvious would only improve my situation, really.” “Try rolling your skirt up a few inches,” Jimin said, knocking into you out of habit. She was a clingy, hands-on friend, who was chock-full of platonic kisses, and hugs. “She might be straight,” you reasoned. Although, doing something more with the school uniform might help you standout a bit more. “Yeah, but my gaydar doesn’t pick up false signals, sweetie,” she grinned, before patting away at the same shoulder she’d just slammed into the locker. You winced. “Hey, Yoonji!” Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Fuck, no. The girl paused at the end of the hallway, short black hair falling over her shoulder when she turned. Jimin gestured enthusiastically, “Come here.” You were in your friend’s stupid mochi face, cursing low, “The fuck you doing?” “Helping. I mean, it’s this, or nothing happens, ever.” She looked at you seriously, “Remember what happened with Jeongguk?” “Uhm, yeah. You slut dropped on his dick and now you own it.” “That’s right. Now slut drop.” Yoonji approached, expression as vacant and uninterested as her voice, “You beckoned?” “I did, yeah. Wanna join us for lunch?” It was effortless, you thought, watching Jimin in awe. Even if she was your only friend, you certainly weren’t hers, and this was probably the reason. Yoonji was taking awhile to answer, a brief look of confusion flitting across her face, before turning glacial. You could see it so well, the storm reflecting beneath the surface of her pale skin. You decided to save her, throwing her a lifeline, “You probably have other things…” “You know what? Yeah,” Yoonji answered, staring directly at you – her words were tired and rough like gravel, easily droning you out. “I’ll join you.” “What a relief! My friend here was starting to think you were a vampire,” Jimin teased, purposefully slowing in her steps, so that Yoonji could comfortably walk with you. “Talked about calling in reinforcements, like Van Helsing or something, like a big ol’ nerd…” You shook your head, denying it, “I don’t have those connections.” “That’s a shame,” Yoonji sighed heavily, as though the small walk to the cafeteria was enough to wind her. “…since I’m Dracula’s third cousin.” Jimin played along well, well enough to make you feel envious all over again. “But you take sunlight like a pro.” “The power of the right BB cream.” Unbelievably hot were Min Yoonji’s blasé responses. She’d stated it so casually that it was almost deemed feasible in your tragically gullible mind. Forget Princess Yoonji, upgrade to Vampire Princess Yoonji, please. Thank you, brain. “This line is ridiculous. All the salad bowls are gonna be gone,” Jimin whined, stomping her foot like a child, latching onto you – swinging your linked arms around for good measure. Yoonji’s sleepy, feline eyes remained fixed on you the whole time, finally, finally watching you. She scraped her teeth over her bottom lip, contemplative, “I’m probably not gonna eat. I’ll go find us a table?” “Sounds good,” Jimin said, saluting Yoonji with her free hand. This was your chance to spoil her, even if it was with food, which – what better way, really? You would just double up on everything you usually get and then offer it up like it was a mistake. “So, like, this was all very easy, wasn’t it?” Jimin was smug and a smug Jimin was…eh, whatever, it was fine. You let her have her moment. “It kinda was, yeah,” you said, agreeing. You grabbed a tray, grabbing two of the ham, cheese, and jelly sandwiches. A set of jjiggae of the day, bowls of rice, two cookies, and cokes. A thing you’ve yet to witness was a happily fed Yoonji. In the end, this would probably end up as being more of a treat for yourself. “You thought she was the undead. You said that she was grumpy, unapproachable, and yet…” Jimin grabbed for her salad bowl. There were still tons of them left, thus concluding that your best friend was terminally dramatic. “And yet!” “Yes, yes, and yet she was nice, alive, and approachable,” you said, as you finished with paying for the food and skimmed your eyes over the cafeteria, finding Yoonji at one of the far back tables. She hadn’t run away yet, how lovely, and hopeful. Jimin already tore open her strawberry milk, humming blissfully around the straw with each sip. The girl was incapable of eating or drinking without making some type of noise. “Awe, look, she secured the table furthest from the jocks.” “Because they suck?” you offered, unhelpfully. “Anything else you’d like to say about my boyfriend?” “Tell him I said, ‘Hi’, since I know you’re about to ditch me for him.” “Wow, you know me so well. It’s seriously scary sometimes. Enjoy your lunch date,” she said, waving her carton of milk at you. “And you can thank me later, by the way, and properly. Like, with snacks and story time. Okay?” This bitch. “Oh, ‘kay then…” You’d wanted to lean on Jimin as a social crutch, but that wasn’t going to happen, apparently. So, you approached Yoonji, as calmly as you could manage, which was a solid twenty percent out of a whopping one hundred. If she’d noticed, she didn’t let on. Instead, she asked, “What happened to sparkles?” Oh. It was possible that Yoonji only agreed, because of Jimin was there. It was an addictive sort of energy that your friend tended to give off, a very positive and friendly vibe that everyone wanted a piece of. “You mean mochi sparkles? She spotted her boyfriend, who just so happens to be a bunny. Mochi and bunnies go together. Who knew?” You placed the tray of food down on the table, trying not to make it obvious that half of it was intended for her. You laughed at the arrangement, as though it wasn’t purposeful. “I think I bought too much. Way too much, in fact.” “Almost like an identical serving for two,” Yoonji said, letting you know that she knew – she knew, she wasn’t dumb, and you would never assume that she was, but there was underlying anger within the tone that she was using. It was a pleasantly sarcastic lilt that had your mind forgetting its function. “Two soups, two sandwiches, two drinks. All accidental? Do you make these mistakes often?” “Not u-usually,” you stammered, wondering if you’d offended her. “I don’t like eating alone, s-so whatever you don’t eat, I’ll give to someone else, or it’ll get tossed. It’s really no big deal.” “Bullshit.” The nervous smile you’ve been giving her fell from your face, shoulders visibly slumping. Admittedly, you weren’t used to confrontation. You sure as fuck weren’t prepared for Yoonji’s wrath. “What?” “You eat alone all the fucking time. In the library, which isn’t even allowed, so however you manage that, probably with magic, or whatever the fuck – congratulations. The music room, you’re always off to the side, nibbling away on your gimbap. Let us not forget,” One side of her mouth was curled into a derisive smirk, going on and on like she was Sherlock fucking Holmes, about to hand your ass over to Scotland Yard, “…the gym, where you’re usually snacking on something banana flavored, pretending like you give a shit about basketball, which I’m pretty sure you don’t. Bullshit you don’t like eating alone. Just say it. This is all out of pity, isn’t it? New girl from Daegu can’t afford a meal? Let’s invite her to lunch?” What left your mouth next was neither a word nor a syllable, but was a long shaky breath. Your fingertips were cold with anxiety, in shock that Yoonji would perceive your intentions as pity. The dark look in her eyes was like black ice, full of tempered rage that was about to unleash with one wrong move. Meanwhile, all of those times you thought she never saw you, she did. She did. She’d listed every occasion, oblivious to the fact that it was to become closer to her. “That’s not,” you whispered, shaking your head. You felt weakened by her accusation. “I could never do those things or think that way about you.” “What? Did you think that by being charitable that it would make you seem like a good person? Hate to break it to you, Bambi, but the world doesn’t work that way. So, stop giving me those fucking eyes.” She settled back onto the bench, bringing a leg up so that she could rest her arm against it. Due to the cold weather, female students had the option of wearing sweatpants beneath their skirts. Yoonji did this more often than not. “We’re not going to be friends, but I am going to eat all of this food,” she said calmly, although her words were dripping with spite. “I mean, you bought half of it just for me. Out of the kindness of your heart…” By now you’d lost the nerve to eat, let alone to continue on with a conversation where Yoonji painted you as a horrible person. You were the villain in this pseudo-fairytale you’ve thought up. You could only hope that it was not Jafar – anyone but that turd, although his beard was pretty legit, and majestic. Great. Now you were envisioning Yoonji in a hot red Arabian harem garment, chained at the wrists, feeding you fruit, and wine… You had fucking problems. She proceeded with what she said she was going to do, ripping the plastic off the sandwich, dipping her soup spoon into the spicy jjiggae. She shoveled food into her mouth like this was her only meal within the past week. At this rate, she’d probably end up with an upset stomach, but you couldn’t say anything. Instead, you watched the way her mouth parted for each bite, her complexion flushed due to the spices. You could cry. You might do just that, but not in front of her. “Thank you for eating with me,” you said, grabbing for your bag with trembling hands. She stared at you when you got up from the bench, “You didn’t even touch your food. Sit.” You shut your eyes for a moment, trying to cancel her out, because you wanted to obey that voice so badly. “You know, there’s a reason why you always saw me eating alone so often. We only have one class together and lunchtime was the only time to…” You stopped yourself, because nope, you weren’t that brave yet. You repeated the statement. “It was the only time.” She grew quiet then, too quiet for comfort. A deep pout settled against her jjiggae stained lips and you could tell that she was assessing you – all of you, your words, and actions. You could literally feel her picking you apart into pieces, searching for more faults. You shifted under her gaze, bringing your bag to your chest. A single bow, because no, you two weren’t friends, and you weren’t going to see her for the remainder of the day. You probably wouldn’t see her at all outside of Literature class. No more being a weirdo and eating lunch in super obvious places. It was time to put your fixation with Princess Yoonji to bed.

Time passed slowly. You noticed every cruel, drawn out moment of it. Lunch might’ve been the only time to see Yoonji, but now it wasn’t. You’d spent your lunch period at a table full of jocks, watching Jimin feed her oversized baby bunny his fries. Jung Hoseok would yet again, bark up the wrong tree, despite being shot down on numerous occasions. “You know who I saw yesterday?” Hoseok asked and really, you hated these types of questions. You shrugged, because seriously, “Who?” “Yoonji. She was working the counter at the cat café.” Well, of course she was. She too was a cat and sometimes cats work with other cats. It all made sense. “But I also saw her working at olive bbq just last week. She’s a busy girl. Probably sick of seeing my face by now.” Your crazy mind was already thinking of all the olive bbq’s in the area, as well as cat cafés, except you weren’t about that life anymore. Nope, Yoonji handling cute, cuddly, flooofy cats, and choosing the right kitty for you would have to wait, indefinitely. Yoonji handling an order of spicy chicken would have to wait, too. Knowing her though, she’d get angry over a generous tip. How dare you. Even a week later, you still couldn’t escape from Yoonji. You didn’t bother with responding to him, as you took your tray to the garbage, and walked out of the busy lunchroom. Even when you heard Jimin calling your name, you did not stop – couldn’t, even if you’d wanted to. Your arms felt too loose, fingertips too cold, an oncoming panic attack ready to be set off. Escape. Abort it all. Just as you’d felt the sudden urge to run, to pick up your heart rate – it had all come to a stop. Your body had collided with something firm. Not a wall, but a person. A glimpse of the beat up converse, sweatpants, and skirt combo should have been enough to properly deduce it, but it would be rather unusual to see Yoonji here. A hand on your arm stabled you and pulled you in, bringing you out of oncoming student traffic. You almost didn’t want to look. But you did, stuck in your own version of hell, where round-the-clock torture was helplessly staring up at an unimpressed Yoonji. The panic in your bones slowly eased, having no other choice but to regain control, as though her mere presence was enough to subdue your fears. She smirked down at you, voice somewhat smug, “You’re real short, you know that, Bambi?” The nickname wasn’t going anywhere. “Yeah,” You sighed, still calming down. You’ve heard that numerous times. “But why can no one get over it?” There was cat fur clinging to the hoody that she was wearing under her school blazer, the hood thrown over her head with silky black bangs falling just beneath her brows. The halls quieted, leaving you both standing there with the muffled sounds of hip-hop music coming through her headphones. Even when you dropped your arm down, she hadn’t bothered letting you go. “Probably because it’s really cute,” she said – Wait, what? “Nothing I do is cute and I’m not even trying to fish, this is just fact,” you said, voice shaking with nerves, as you looked down to where her fingers were still curled in your sleeve. Silver adorned fingers, so many rings. Black matte painted nails. Yoonji’s hands were nice to look at and oh – kay, you were doing that thing again. Focus. She shook her head, disagreeing. However, “I noticed that you’re around a lot less lately.” Was there any reason why you should be around? You wanted to say those words, could feel them on the tip of your tongue, ready to come out. Coward. You were a damn coward. “It made me think that maybe,” she started, licking at her too red lips, drawing your attention to them. Fuck whenever she pouted when she talked, which was always. “…you’d actually wanted to be friends? Look, my attitude is total shit, I know.” “No, it’s uhm…” You don’t even know where to begin on the subject of Yoonji. You tried though, rolling your wrist so that you could hold onto the hand she’d snagged your sleeve with. She hadn’t even flinched at the contact, unblinking. “I like your personality. I do. I like that you’re standing here in a hallway with me, apologizing, kind of, in your own way, while rap music plays through your earbuds.” You hesitated, because now you’re dangerously close to outing yourself. “Tell me,” she said, firmly. The space separating you both dwindled, as she took a persistent step closer. You leaned your back against the wall behind you, not trusting your legs. “Whatever made you pause just now, forget about it, and tell me.” “I…” “Bambi.” Fuck. Your response was a classic, one that no human deserved the right to use – truly. In a world where words had failed you, but actions would not – you reached for the side of Yoonji’s face, cold fingers slipping beneath her short black hair, brushing over the silver studs along the lobe of her ear. Her skin was soft and hot, it was everything, but your mind was not able to keep up fast enough to fully appreciate it. What you hadn’t been expecting, was Yoonji to lean into your touch with her dark, catlike eyes burning into you. And despite making the first move, Yoonji was the one who kissed first. It was all wet, firm pressure, and too short-lived. You’d smelled the strawberry gloss, before you tasted it, running your tongue over your bottom lip when she pulled back, savoring it. Her voice was low, yet noticeably affected, “Was that okay?” You dropped your hand from her face, not trusting yourself not to lean back in for another kiss. You nodded, shyly, “Yes.” “Good girl,” she said, brushing her thumb over her own mouth, fixing you with a lopsided smirk. It was provocative and heated. It was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. Don’t judge a cat by the size of its claws.

Literature class. The professor was still very much invested in making it through the Brothers Grimm tales. The strangest part was when Yoonji volunteered this week. Your girlfriend wanted to read aloud by her own volition. It was suspicious and intriguing. However, once she’d read the story title, it all made sense. An angry flush covered your skin, as you quietly watched Yoonji go on. She crossed one leg over the other, a slender hand poised so that she could lean comfortably against the podium. Her dark eyes flickered to yours every so often, utterly pleased with herself, ‘Inside sat a tiny girl, no bigger than a thumb. The woman called her Thumbelina. For a bed she had a walnut shell…’ The lengths she’d go to just to make a short joke were impressive. If Jimin were here, she’d be rolling. That was alright. You had plans for Yoonji. The good, ‘fuck you’ type of revenge that would either land you deeply satisfied or devastatingly single. Tonight was a home game for the girls basketball team. It was also the last of the season. You’d get to sit on the bleachers and look pretty, rooting for moonlight aka the bringer of storms aka Min Yoonji. She was twice as foulmouthed while out on the court, aggressive in all her competitive endeavors. Okay, so maybe you enjoyed watching her play. The only difference was that now you had access to Taehyeon’s closet – Hoseok’s new girlfriend, who somehow managed to smile in the shape of a box. It was kind of cute. Both she and Jimin were rays of sunshine in your life, blinding, yet necessary. And although you hadn’t known Taehyeon for as long as Jimin had, it took no time for you to get close to her. Yoonji waited for you after class, not outside, but right at your desk. You stood up and slung your bag over your shoulder. “Thumbelina,” was all you had to say. She hummed, amusedly, “It was appropriate and worth all the social awkwardness.” You were still trying to adjust to her newly silver dyed hair and the shorter cut that had come with it. It made her look all hot and androgynous – and you were pretty much screwed. It took effort to refrain from cooing at her for the umpteenth time, going on about how cute – how gorgeous – how perfect the color and haircut looked on her. How well it went with her soft pale skin and dark clothes. If your two friends were the sun, then Yoonji was pure moonlight, and you needed both. “But was it worth me making this face at you?” You asked, trying your best to embody the cat from Shrek. Yoonji deadpanned, “I think you already know the answer to that.” Then she slid her fingers between yours, going by routine, steering you into the direction of the lunchroom. You stopped before going in, knowing that this was as far as she’d take you anyway. Yoonji was still not up for eating with jocks, despite being the female equivalent of one. “After lunch, Jimin and I are gonna go to Tae’s for a little bit. So, I won’t be able to watch you practice before the game tonight.” She narrowed her eyes, visibly vexed by that, “That’s a lot of pretty girls in one room.” “Pretty girls with boyfriends,” you reminded her, which was a fact she already knew, since residing within your friendship circle for almost a month now. “Besides, I can’t be stolen from you. Unless, that’s like, an easy thing that can be accomplished? Should I worry about all of the girls you rub up on during games? And my friends aren’t just girls, but they’re pretty girls?” “I get it,” she said, waving off your point. “I just don’t like it, but I’ll get over it. You’ll be at the game though, correct?” You shrugged, “By that time, I might find myself in a threesome I won’t be able to refuse. Pretty friends and all. We’ll have to see.” She pulled you away from the doors, backing you up between the wall and the drink machine. It was a small space, which was something that Yoonji seemed to enjoy all too much – small spaces, with her small girlfriend. No matter where you were, it seemed. In this particular spot, she was tugging at your lips, pulling on them until they were swollen red from the abuse. A soft whimper into her mouth made her grow more impatient to have you, slender fingers at your throat keeping you still. Your kept your eyes closed long after the heady kisses had ended, feeling a little too hot and needy for her. The familiar ache at the pit of your stomach reminded you of just how easy you were for Min Yoonji. How just a single kiss could tear you into pieces, skin flushed deeply, panting even though you’d had more than enough air, like you’d been deprived. The hands at your throat tightened a fraction and your head tipped back by its force. Her breath reached your skin, “Look at me, Bambi.” You did as she asked of you and felt imposed by what awaited you the moment that you did, meeting the heavy stare that you were no longer a stranger to, able to tell the difference between what was Yoonji’s usual look of iciness versus a darkening expression of lust. She wanted you. No matter what the circumstances were, you would want her, too. Her mouth twitched into a knowing smirk, aware of the effects she had on you. “It isn’t very nice of you to try and make me jealous,” she sighed, words lightly skimming your lips. “You know I don’t like it and yet…” She dropped a hand to the hem of your skirt, dark eyes watching you intently, as she ran her fingers along the top of your thigh, bringing the material with her, “…you continue to tempt me as though I wouldn’t fuck you right here just to make myself feel a little bit better.” You caught her wrist the moment she’d conquered a questionable length of skin. Even if her closeness hid you from view, it was still dangerous. Saying no to her was difficult, for the both of you. Yoonji’s auto-response was to draw you in closer by your neck, brushing your lips together in slow, languid drags. For a moment, you’d thought it would melt away your resolve. You might actually allow her to have her way with you right here at school. “Take a picture, so we can use it as blackmail.” The familiar voice startled you away from your girlfriend, which proved to have failed anyway, what with being pinned between Yoonji and the wall. Jimin had her arms crossed, openly judging. Oh, damn it. Jeongguk tilted his head, considering it, “I might.” “Well, that killed it for me,” Yoonji said, removing her hand from your skirt. Not wanting to give any nearby jocks the satisfaction, as she placed a quick kiss against your forehead, and said her goodbyes to the rest of your friends – for your sake. One last look at your embarrassed and slightly debauched state had her simpering, “See you at the game.” Taehyeon’s room was the size of a shoebox. Her closet, however, was big enough to make even Carrie Bradshaw jealous. It was probably the only reason why she put up with it. There was a single bookshelf dedicated to manhwa and handheld devices with the games stacked high consisting of otomes. Next to her bed was a collection of fashion magazines and an even bigger pile of sewing patterns. “You should wear this beret,” Taehyeon said, removing it from its limited edition box. “…with the short black skirt and the thigh highs.” Jimin was over on the bed, chipping away at last week’s nail polish. “I know it’s the last game of the season, but is this really necessary? I’ve been telling you to wear shorter skirts since the beginning of time.” Taehyeon answered before you could even open your mouth, “One, I’m shocked that this is coming from you and two…yes, it’s necessary. You should dress up every day. It’s empowering and it feels nice.” Jimin practically rolled her eyes in defeat, “Whatever.” Despite being smaller, the skirt fit exactly how Taehyeon knew that it would, dangerously short, and super tight around the waist. The shirt was a simple striped, long sleeve – matching the black and red beret. Accessories were not your thing, but Taehyeon had plenty, allowing you to borrow her jewelry. The prettiest item was the black ribbon choker. You joined Jimin in retouching your makeup, using her dark red lipstick when she’d offered it. You’d never been so daring, but tonight was about driving Yoonji out of her mind, so why not? Your friends never partook in watching Yoonji’s games, which was fine, but not really? Taehyeon dropped you off on the east end of campus, since it was the closest to the gym. Your two friends were leaving you stranded to catch a movie. It was rather sad, considering that crowds made you feel uneasy. You always made sure to sit on the bottom bleachers, so that if need be, you could easily escape. Tonight wasn’t about your anxiety, though. It was about being supportive. The moment you caught a glimpse of silver hair, you were deeply reminded of that fact. Yoonji was in her dark red jersey, padded brace supports on both legs, which were just as distracting as your thigh highs. A Nike headband kept her bangs out of her eyes for the most part, balm making her mouth look rosy, and slick. Now this was a look, a whole meal in fact. You loved it. The only thing better was when she started searching the busy room for you, even while the coach was speaking directly to her. Being stared at was intense enough, but one look from Yoonji was enough to set your skin ablaze. The moment she found you, she’d paused completely, and it was the same for you, too – everything seemed to stop within that moment, even your breathing. The contact from sight felt no different from touch, as she dragged her eyes across your body with slow deliberateness, taking in all the obvious changes to your outfit. You watched the way her pouty lips fell apart, kitten tongue flashing out, before she cocked a slender brow at your newfound bravado. You felt more than vulnerable within that moment, like you were about to be devoured whole. Being in trouble with her was exhilarating. Disobeying, misbehaving, being defiant – these things made for a very impatient Min Yoonji, not that she had much of it to begin with. The captain walked with her out onto the court, Nam Joonhee. You were introduced once before. It was obvious that Yoonji was woefully distracted and you’d almost felt bad about it – almost. She shook her head at you, casting you a long meaningful look, before the match started. You’ve had Yoonji explain her position to you plenty of times. She was a point guard, because she was the best at handling the ball. Quick – quick at passing, quick at dribbling, quick at bringing the ball to the opposing team’s basket. Yoonji was especially good at long distance shooting. Every time she bounced up to take a jump shot, it was usually a secured point. Hell, you’d seen her shoot and then turn her back on it, because she knew that it would land. Your girlfriend was like that, insufferably smug about most things, prone to catty hair flips, full of conceit – a self-proclaimed genius. You sat through two hours worth of Yoonji running her mouth, sending the double birds to one of the tallest members of her own team. The more physically exhausted she’d become, the more invigorated she felt by it, sweat glistening at the back of her neck, as she strained for another basket. Halftime, timeouts, the typical highs and lows of a long game, the threat of the opposite team catching up, of scoring a point, of another girl getting way too close to Yoonji – blocking her movements, crowding her in, nearly shoving her down. It had you on edge. The match ended with a one point difference, Yoonji’s team reigning victorious. Usually the girls would head into the locker room, but it looked as though Yoonji was saying her goodbyes early, patting the back of the same girl she’d flipped off earlier. Seokgenie her name was, if you remembered correctly. A visible pause – Yoonji’s body straightened with tension when she looked over her shoulder at you, dark eyes on yours then, which had been a frequented action throughout the game. Time could not prepare you for how fast she’d closed the distance, wordlessly grabbing you by your wrist, and hauling you out the double doors. The silence was to be expected, as she brought you further away from the crowd, away from everyone so that no one could hear you screaming bloody murder. You noticed the route she was taking. The school bathrooms were kept unlocked during the game. Yoonji practically hurled you far ahead from where she stood, releasing your wrist with enough force to send you into the counter. You’d caught yourself with your palms against the surface. A wild angry Yoonji appears. She gestured with a finger, pointing from the top of your beret down to your boots, “Who’s closet did you raid, because it sure as shit wasn’t yours.” “Taehyeon’s…” you said, attempting to tug your skirt down. It kept riding up, the damn thing. “I thought you’d like it.” Yoonji tilted her head at you, eyes narrowed like you should know better, “We can both agree that it’s not your style.” “Maybe it is now,” you said, shrugging in nonchalance. Why did it have to be a thing? Not that it was much of a threat, but, “Be prepared for a new collection of miniskirts and thigh highs.” She chuckled softly at that, lacking any real amusement, “Oh, my sweet Bambi. You know as well as I do that tonight was all about distracting me. You wanted my attention all to yourself, didn’t you?” Striking the figurative match, she continued, “Your behavior is coming off as rather needy as of late.” Needy? Oh. “I never meant to distract you, but since we’re on the topic. Let’s say that I was trying to do just that, I’d say it worked. You did miss that layup when I started fixing my stockings,” you said, voice trembling at the end of your sentence when she started coming closer. You followed her pace, carefully stepping backwards each time she advanced. “The end score was only a one point difference. You could have lost the game all because of me.” The heavy glare she’d settled on you was enough to let you know that there was truth to your statement. “Yeah, we could have,” she agreed with you, taking a moment to pause, becoming absolutely still. Perhaps pointing out her mistakes wasn’t a good idea on your part, you could see that now – could feel it within the intensity of a single glance. “My head was elsewhere, but that was your fault. I kept thinking about what I’d do to you once I finally got you alone. Take my time bringing you back to my place, so that I could fuck you with that pretty new toy we picked out, but you know me. I’ve never been any good at being patient.” You nodded, well aware of the fact that she liked to go fast. Dating Yoonji was something you had always envisioned as a slow affair filled with shyness, and timid firsts. When, no less than a week after she’d kissed you in the hallway, she had you screaming into her Lord Nermal bedding, making you come against the firm press of her mouth, her tongue still fucking into you after you’d been sated – wanting more from you. “Looks like you’re out of room,” Yoonji observed with mock pity, watching as your back met the stall and you startled at the contact. She was careful not to touch you at first, even when she’d been close enough to do so, which drove you absolutely mad. Instead, she reached for the lock, and twisted it so that the door opened. You fell inside with little grace and quickly found yourself being pinned to the surface once it’d been closed and relocked. Yoonji’s skin was still damp with sweat, the ends of her silver hair soaked. The smell was a heady mix of her perfume and two hours’ worth of exertion. At this closeness, her eyes fluttered painfully slow, thick dark lashes framing pretty kitten shaped eyes, her pupils dilated with want, staring at you with a slow curl of her red lips. “Are you ready for my undivided attention?” she taunted, pressing the full length of her body against your own, lips falling against your temple with each word, “This is what you wanted, baby. You wanted to dress like a slut for me and now I get to treat you like one.” You were frustrated, petulant in a way that only she seemed to bring out of you, “That’s not what I was trying–” She touched her cool hands to your face, pulling you into a kiss that was deceptively light, and sweet. You knew that it was an apology for the wreck that was about to happen, because the next pull of your lips was with her teeth, the sharp pain causing you to whimper. She soothed you with her tongue, mouth pliant when she licked into your mouth, growing more invested with sucking, and nipping at you every time you attempted to regain any semblance of control. Your lipstick was sure to be smeared, since Yoonji was wearing it now, the dark shade of wild berries staining her pale skin. It was hot – it shouldn’t be, but it was. The shirt you wore was purposefully low cut, revealing a few straps of your bralette. She’d once commented on how it looked a lot like a harness on you, enjoying the thought of it. Yoonji’s breasts were small, which was probably why she played with yours so much. They were full, big enough to avoid button ups since the age of twelve, cringing at the catcalls you still managed to receive, even on days where your chest was bound, because you hated them so much. Hated, although with the way Yoonji practically worshipped them, you were starting to gain confidence. She pulled your shirt over your head, arms already raised to assist her, when she stopped – allowing the fitted material to serve as its own restraints. You tucked your hands above your head into a more comfortable position, a breath escaping when she closed her fingers around your throat. The pressure slight, just enough to remind you that you were hers, “I’m still gonna take you home after this…” Her other hand was teasing below the many straps. “…so you can ride me on that cute little cock we bought. I wanna watch your tits bounce. Bet you’d look so pretty. Would you like that?” Your thighs closed against the ache you felt, clenching painfully around nothing, but you needed – needed so badly to be filled by her. She tightened her fingers when your response was delayed too long for her liking, “Words.” It was difficult, your mind becoming hazy with want. You wanted her however you could have her. You managed a small, “Yes, please.” She released her grip on you to pull at the front of your bralette. The straps were adjusted lower, trapping your nipples between the thin lines of the material, exposing you further. Yoonji’s hands were pleasantly larger than yours, weighing your breasts within her palms, short black nails digging into your sensitive skin as she bent down to tease – encircling an erect bud with her tongue, before sucking messily – the sound of it was twice as loud given your surroundings. You were already trembling. Each time she brought your sensitive skin into the hot suction of her mouth, the pleasure shot straight to your core. You tried moving your arms, on the brink of desperation, “I want…ahh…to touch you…” Her only response was a sharp nip of her teeth, fingers growing more possessive when she gripped and kneaded at your hips. Yoonji’s lips were the color of cherries, swollen red from working over your skin. You shrunk against the surface when she stood at full height, staring at you from behind strands of silver hair, wiping the saliva from the corners of her mouth. “Wanna be good for me?” she asked, leaning into you so she could tug your shirt off the rest of the way. She moved back before you could reach for her, making it clear that you weren’t permitted to do so. “The point of this is that I get to do whatever I want with you, not the other way around. Now lift up your skirt.” True to tonight’s theme, this wasn’t really your style, either, which was probably why your face was on fire. You were reduced to a shy, anxious mess. She knew it, too, eyes as black as charcoal, challenging you to dare be defiant. Your fingers uncurled from your sides to slowly pull the fabric high enough for her to see your panties – the same panties that had nothing to do with the rest of your outfit. “Tinkerbelle,” Yoonji noted, the Disney character print of your underwear was endearing to her, heavy gaze alit with amusement. “This is more you, isn’t it? Nothing like the little slut you’d come dressed as, hm?” The words slipped past your lips, before you could stop them, “Fuck you.” “Fuck me? You’re really in no position to be saying that...” There was a hint of Daegu satoori in the lazy drawl of her words, the inflection doing something to you all on its own. All Yoonji had to do was whisper into your ear and you would be a mess. She laughed at your obvious struggle, the derisive sound turning you on more than it had angered you, “My sweet, sweet Bambi.” She leaned down, immediately parting your lips with her tongue so she could fill you. You loved when Yoonji kissed you – loved how she took her time with it. She was thorough, drifting over your teeth, along the roof of your mouth. Yoonji stole whenever she kissed, consumed and tasted every bit of you, until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. You hummed, easily falling captive when her hand moved past your stomach, slipping beneath the cotton of your panties. You were clean shaven, which wasn’t news to her, but she still groaned at how smooth you felt. It was difficult to focus on the hot tongue delving between your lips, when she slid her middle finger between your soaked folds, gathering your arousal and coating you with it, making each touch afterwards slippery, and wet. You rolled your hips against her palm, breaking the kiss with a sharp gasp – forgetting about where this was happening. “Wanna know what gets me off?” Yoonji teased, speaking into your lips. You nodded slowly, nose to nose with her. You wanted to know. You really, really did. She leaned in so that she could say the rest against your ear, her mouth pressing firmly. It caused your shoulders to scrunch up. She murmured, thickly, “Getting you off.” Yoonji was…impossible. You would have said so if you could, but words were too hard a task when her lips wandered down the side of your neck, expertly swirling her tongue – marking you in several spots. Marking was her new thing, although it was usually in less obvious places. You would have to hide these, but she didn’t seem to care. Not even you cared, becoming lost to the incessant strokes of her delicate fingers, the way she allowed you to grind against them, moving at whatever pace you desired. The sharp sting of her teeth along your collarbone made your legs tremble, the molten heat at your lower stomach ready to unfurl. You were shameless when you were gone. The small moans and quickened breaths resounded harshly off the bathroom walls. You were so painfully close, teetering over the edge when she wedged a finger in deep, pulling back far enough to watch your downfall – pushing in another digit, pumping them in and out of you. You were thrown off – orgasm delayed for only a few short seconds longer, as she rocked the heel of her palm against your clit, making you come in white pulses of intense pleasure. She waited for your muscles to relax, before slowly removing her fingers. You finally closed your eyes, expelling the air from your lungs in one shaky breath. “Yoonji…” Fuck. That was amazing. Your head was resting against the stall door, body still thrumming with energy. The high you felt then could conquer anything, when your panties were suddenly being torn down past your thighs. You stepped out of them somewhat dazedly. Your girlfriend was kneeling on the tiles, the padding from her basketball gear supporting her knees. The sight was enough to kill you dead. She brought your leg up to rest atop her shoulder, nuzzling into your stocking covered thigh, her teeth catching on the fabric like needles over silk. You should have known that she wouldn’t be done with you. She never truly was, proven time and time again to be the insatiable one. “Spread yourself for me, baby,” were the words pressed into your skin, as impatient fingers pulled at your thigh highs. She was hungry for more of you, eagerly sucking and nipping her way closer towards the mess she’d created between your thighs. You were always so easy for her, obeying despite the brief wave of apprehension, parting yourself wide for her. The look she sent you made chills run down your spine – her eyes pools of black, peering up at you from behind her long, pretty lashes. You knew that you were well and truly fucked. She wasted no time, covering you with the tight heat of her mouth, drinking you in – her kittenish tongue curling into the sticky arousal at your raw pink entrance, slurping lewdly, wanting it all for herself. The deep moan she elicited struck you at your very core. You were already so sensitive and you both knew that it wouldn’t take much. The sounds of her tongue darting inside you were loud in your ears and you swore you could hear shoes scuffing across the school floors nearby. It made you all the more desperate to come. “Yoonji, more…” you pleaded, breathlessly. She was all too willing to oblige you, replacing her tongue with two of her fingers, pressing down in a way that made you feel deliciously full, before she pushed in a third – stretching you, filling you to the brim. You stared down at her somewhat helplessly and swore that her eyes grew darker then. The moment she trapped your clit between her lips, it was over. With her nails biting into your skin, she kept your leg still, as she started flicking her tongue back and forth in rhythm with her fingers thrusting into you. You’d spiraled so high, so fast. The second orgasm was always more intense for you, the tight pressure of your walls clenching around her as you came. You could feel her lavish around and between her digits with her soft tongue, soothing you through your orgasm, licking you clean. What the hell just happened? Yoonji carefully set your foot back on the ground, her slim arms catching you around the waist when you’d slumped forward. Your name was on her lips, as she murmured gentle things to you, trying to bring you back into focus. She pressed you more firmly against the door, brushing your hair away from your face, her fingers cold in contrast to your heated skin. Now she smelled like you. You made a face at that, hearing her chuckle. “We should wash up,” she said, helping you get dressed, but refusing to return your panties? It wouldn’t be the first pair she’d kept, but now you’d have to face the public, commando. She held the cotton within her palm, before pointing at you accusingly, “Think of it as your punishment. Maybe don’t try to distract me next time. You already do a good enough job as it is. This whole thing was just overkill.” You rolled your eyes at the weak excuse, as you picked up the beret that had been knocked off your head at some point. Taehyeon would kill you if she ever found out. You adjusted it, as you started fixing your hair in the mirror. You could feel Yoonji’s eyes watching you, practically burning into your skin. “What?” You asked, meeting her reflection in the mirror above the sink. You rinsed your hands under the faucet. She shook her head, knowing it was probably ridiculous, but, “I’m thinking of how I’m going to make it to the car without touching you.” Your mouth went dry. Oh.

Lunch at the jock table was less painful when your girlfriend decided to join one day. Jimin was pleasantly surprised when she took a seat down beside you, a tray of food in her hands. Taehyeon was practically beaming, sending you a knowing look, having sat through so many venting sessions – listening to you go on and on about how much it bothered you that Yoonji never partook. “Why so surprised?” she asked, nudging the tray close to you. “I bought us lots of bread. For you, for me, and the cats…” You were excited to go to work with her later. Yoonji tended to smile a lot around cats. Not just any smile, but the big gummy smile – the same one that caused you to sweat and have heart palpitations. Noticing that you were zoning out, she started kissing at your cheek, once – twice – five times, before her hand fell to your waist, pulling you as close as she could get you without having you on her lap. Jeongguk seemed unsettled, cheeks flushed a deep pink. Jimin brushed her hand over his skin, cupping his face and whispering something into his pierced ear. You only heard the end of what she’d said, reassuring him, “I’ll ask soon, okay?” “Nah, ask now,” Yoonji said, pinning Jeongguk beneath her eyes. “And let him say it. I really wanna hear the words from this fucker.” You turned towards your girlfriend, sincerely confused. “What is happening?” “I want to see you two…” Jeongguk started, words nearly dying on his tongue. The intensity of Yoonji’s glare was intimidating and maybe he liked that a little too much. He motioned towards Jimin, “I would like for us and for you…” “The only dick my girlfriend is getting, is mine,” Yoonji said, simplifying it for him. “We’re flattered though.” “And you?” Jimin asked, somewhat hesitantly. Yoonji was hot. The entire table would merrily agree with that notion. If Taehyeon and Hoseok weren’t so speechless, perhaps they’d inquire themselves. “Whose dick will you be receiving?” “I’m not interested in dick,” Yoonji said, keeping her eyes on Jeongguk’s, her expression turning sinister. “So, you should be careful. Maybe not offer your girlfriends up like they’re sacrificial offerings.” “Duly noted,” Hoseok quipped, smiling so hard that his eyes were gone. Probably vacationing at some fantasy at the back of his mind, one where Taehyeon was dancing in a martini glass. Yoonji brought a piece of cream bread to your lips, acting casual, “You have weird friends.” You nodded, “Yeah, I just found that out.” “Still want me to come and sit with you at lunch?” “Nope. Never again, in fact,” you said, prepared for things to go back to normal starting tomorrow. She buried her face into your neck, her soft laugh tickling your skin, “I didn’t think so.” Min Yoonji, your insufferable girlfriend. A Disney princess from Daegu. Dracula’s third cousin. The storm and the moon. Yoonji… “Bambi.”