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“Yoonchae’s so cute,” Megan comments off-handedly, reading the Weverse chat zip by.
It bothers Yoonchae. Why? She doesn’t know exactly, but it’s something along the lines of it making her feel like she’s just a kid to Megan. She’s obviously not, she’s basically an adult now, and being called cute isn’t going to cut it. “I know,” she replies, rolling her eyes.
And Megan brings her hand up to Yoonchae’s cheek, and pinches it, cooing, “She’s so baby,” teasing her in front of thousands of their fans.
Yoonchae side-eyes her, and she shifts her phone to face her more. Megan stops pinching, but she gives little slaps and drops her hand back to her side. “Eyekons wanna see me, let me back in!!!” she snarks, wriggling in place.
“No, they don’t because— because you’re… ugly,” Yoonchae coughs, the comment seemingly out of character. It’s not in the way that it’s not what she usually says, but in her cadence rather. It’s more of a question, compared to a statement.
Megan kisses her teeth, “Whatever you say, baby-chae,” in an annoyingly dulcet tone, fitting into place next to Yoonchae in front of the camera. They both read the chat and talk about whatever the audience talk about, chatting, telling some stories.
That’s how the rest of the live continues, and the two girls wave goodbye and end it.
Not everything’s finished, though.
Yoonchae grits her teeth, something’s bothering her. She knows deep inside that it’s because of Megan calling her cute.
It shouldn’t bother her— it’s just a compliment. Supposed to make her feel good.
But it stirs something inside of her instead. A bubbling feeling that won’t leave until it bursts.
Megan notices her distant look and nudges Yoonchae with her shoulder. “Hey. You okay?” When the girl doesn’t respond, she pouts.
“Did I do anything? I’m sorry,” she shuffles closer to Yoonchae, taking hold of her hand. “Come on, you can’t stay mad at me forever… What happened?”
Again, Megan is met with silence, although Yoonchae does blink, then soften into the pink-haired girl’s side, enjoying and basking in the warmth. She huffs and crosses her arms, and Megan pulls away her hand.
“Please?”
The act Yoonchae wears falters, and her brow twitches.
“Okay, I’ll guess, just tell me if I’m right,” Megan sheepishly offers, taking Yoonchae’s slight tip of her head forward as a yes.
“Was it like, me saying you suck at obbies?”
She shakes her head.
“Calling you baby-chae?”
At that, Yoonchae wobbles her head from side to side, and Megan grumbles. “So it’s something with baby-chae…”
Megan’s got her tongue peeking out, and she’s thinking quite elaborately.
“…That I keep calling you cute?”
Megan knows she’s right when the girl whines, and she pushes her head into Megan’s shoulder, basically saying, “don’t judge me.”
She mumbles something indistinct to Megan’s ears, and Yoonchae lifts up to meet her eyes. “What? I didn’t hear you,” Megan blurts out. “Am I right though?”
Yoonchae nods, “I don’t know— It’s… It’s weird,” her face this mix of embarrassment and guilt. There’s another thing layered beneath those outward feelings, and Megan can’t place it. The pink-haired girl shakes her head.
“No, it’s okay. I promise,” she responds, with Yoonchae staring straight at her.
The Korean’s lips part, and she looks around like she’s trying to find the words to say whatever she’s going to say next. Megan watches her fingers grip the hem of her shirt, “Can you…”
“Can I?” Megan finishes, curious to her unfinished words.
“Like, I don’t know, can you call me,” she continues, her accent swaddling her tone. Raising a brow, Megan listens intently, something in her short-circuiting when she says, “Something else? Like… hot. Please.”
Timidly, Yoonchae’s eyes flicker up to meet Megan’s, and she has this rosy tinge peppered onto her cheeks, and Megan has to fight the urge to call her cute. But there’s now another option she can choose.
It’s hesitant, “You look, um, hot, Yoonchae,” but it makes the girl pout.
“Say it like you mean it, Unnie,” she whispers, drifting her eyes away. If it’s to make Megan feel guilty and want to actually try, then it’s working, because the pink-haired girl pauses, and it looks like there’s cogs turning in her brain. She sets her face in a way that makes Yoonchae’s breath hitch.
“Yoonchae. You’re really fucking hot.”
Unfamiliar. That’s how the words sound when they leave Megan’s mouth. Yet they sound right at the same time.
Yoonchae tries to play off her flushed face with a laugh, but it refuses to rise out, and she bites her lip instead. Why does it feel so much more better when Megan calls her hot?
Like she’s just found out how to feel for the first time, but tenfold.
And now there’s this heat at both her face and core; Yoonchae squeezes her thighs together.
Noticing this, Megan’s gaze snaps down to them, and she feels a rush of… authority? Pride? Superiority? It doesn’t matter though, not when Yoonchae’s all pink and looking real pretty sitting there like that. The girl leans in closer, the ghost of her breath by the shell of Yoonchae’s ear, “You’re so stupidly hot,” and she places a hand onto her thigh. It’s warm.
The air between them holds this tense charge, and it’s such a stark switch to the regard previously, but it’s almost humid, the way Megan adds onto her barrage.
“Makes me wanna do all kinds of things to you,” she breathes, like it’s a secret she’s been holding in for ages, her voice low and dangerous, and Yoonchae’s fingers twitch. The cushioning below them sinks as the Korean positions herself above Megan, straddling her. She smirks, “On top?” and then giggles when Yoonchae stammers out a, “shut up.”
The reason why Yoonchae’s positioned themselves like that? It’s complicated, she doesn’t know again, but she lets her instincts control her body, and her arms poise themselves over Megan’s shoulders. “Is that good enough for you?” she hears the girl purr, her voice impossibly close and airy.
Yoonchae’s feeling cocky. She shakes her head, “More. I like— I like hearing you say it,” having this needy and bratty undertone to her cadence, and she enjoys when Megan challenges her: “You’re so demanding, say please.”
It’s out of character for Megan, but Yoonchae melts at the words regardless, “…Please— ah, Unnie.”
“That’s my girl,” she lowly whispers, spiking her thigh up just a little bit, taking in the gasp Yoonchae doesn’t bother holding in, allowing herself to submit. Megan swears she can feel her throbbing underneath the fabric, and her head feels fuzzy at the thought of Yoonchae’s centre.
The idea of Yoonchae being wet because of Megan makes her head spin, and she nudges her thigh up further; the girl yelping softly, leaning forward. A plethora of questions flood Megan’s mind: has Yoonchae thought about this before? Toying with the notion of Megan taking control of her? Gasping, groaning, whimpering her name, wishing Megan were there to help her?
Coming undone with Megan on her mind?
Fuck.
Megan steadies her hands on Yoonchae’s hips, guiding them to roll back and forth onto her thigh, trying to elicit more noises from her. She’s successful, swallowing the whines from the girl, “Megan— please, ‘s good,” it’s so whiny, so breathy, so hot, Megan’s surprised she hasn’t passed out yet.
“Say it,” Yoonchae’s panting, her mind so obviously muddled with ardour, “Say I’m hot again, Unnie, anything,” and she veers as much as she can backwards to meet Megan’s gaze. Her eyes are glassy, hazy, a nauseating concoction of arousal and pleasure, and the pink-haired girl’s nerves go haywire. She’s so sickeningly beautiful; her flushed face, her shirt ridden up where Megan’s holding her, revealing her pale skin, all the sounds she’s making. It’s far too much for Megan to handle, but she groans out, “God, ugh, Yoonchae. Really hot, ‘s so hot, fuck,” and she surges forward, clashing her lips onto Yoonchae’s.
It’s rough when they kiss, and their teeth are almost grinding together, and Megan forgets how to breathe. Yoonchae cries into the kiss as the girl bucks her hips into the routine, rocking Yoonchae on the firm of her thigh still. The Korean lets Megan’s tongue venture into her mouth, far too lost in lust to care how weird it feels; she gets used to the intrusion anyway, her head’s too busy focusing on the pressure building up inside of her. Teeth nip at the soft flesh, and it’s as if Megan’s trying to mark her with the promise of being hers.
“Unnie, Unnie, more, need it,” she mutters after breaking the kiss, tears threatening to fall, she can’t help it, it feels so, so much, so stimulating, and so disgustingly good.
Megan’s face burns a darker red when she lays her eyes upon Yoonchae; she’s all pink and flushed, her lips slick with saliva, swollen with all the nipping Megan was doing, tears spilling over, her hair a tousled mess— and her hips, god.
They’re almost frantic in the way Yoonchae’s pitching her hips fast, like she can’t get enough of it, like she can’t think about anything else, like she needs it. Megan’s practically hypnotised, grunting in each sway of her own. “Fuck, Yoonchae…”
Fire blazes underneath Megan’s skin, each touch and movement sending jolts down her spine, the rush and heat of the moment filling her head with smoke, and it’s awfully addicting. She knows Yoonchae feels the same too, seeing her gasp out moans and dizzying whimpers, hands attempting to clutch onto the sheets, a futile effort to ground the icky spin of her head.
It’s pathetic, really, of how embarrassingly wet Megan is, how her thrusts get more and more sloppy, and how Yoonchae’s got her wrapped around her finger. “Unnie, please,” the girl sobs, not even sure of what she’s saying please to, but the heat’s getting unbearable, and each graze of skin on skin makes her see stars.
“Yoonchae, come on, you wanna be good for— for me, right?” Megan’s breathless, words slipping out, and Yoonchae nods like her head weighs a ton, dipping into the answer.
She keens, “I wanna— I wanna be good for you,” she pants, it’s so distracting and attractive Megan almost faints, “Doing me really, really good, ‘s so— so close,” and she sounds fucking needy, her voice shaking as her hips ground themselves further into Megan’s.
“You’re close?” Megan keeps one hand at Yoonchae, and the other lurches up to hold her jaw. Her thumb enters the Korean’s mouth, and it’s slick and warm, feeling her tongue glide over it.
Saliva slowly dribbles onto Megan’s fingers, and Yoonchae tries talking, “Ah, mmhm, close,” her eyes fluttering shut, letting her tongue lap at Megan’s thumb.
“Come on, keep— keep going,” the pink-haired girl’s hands dig Yoonchae’s hips, roughly coaxing them to roll faster and faster, and she can feel the pressure in her core become more and more known; she’s godawfully close. She doesn’t care that she hasn’t even been touched in the slightest, or even felt the moreish friction that Yoonchae feels, but the high’s just barely out of reach, and she needs to chase it.
Yoonchae sobs out, Megan’s thumb dropping down to her hips, leaving a wet trail of spit on her chin, “Megan— ‘s coming, ‘m coming, fuck,” and her body stiffens like she’s being electrocuted, like she’s being pulled taut on a live wire, thighs locking around Megan’s, crying and spluttering nonsense as the other girl climaxes, the liquid gushing out of her cunt, and it’s almost obscene at the way they both whine and pant like they can’t do anything else. Megan feels Yoonchae’s desire leak out of her panties and shorts onto her thigh, staining and splattering the fabric with her arousal, mixing the two with this strong ardour.
They’re catching their breath, and Yoonchae collapses onto Megan, her arms flopping beside her uselessly, and her words are almost inaudible,
“Don’t say… I’m cute.”