Archive of Our Own

The heat of the stage still vibrated in the air, a physical force that mixed with the roar of thousands of fans chanting song lyrics as if they had been waiting their entire lives. Pink lights, golden flashes, smoke, and the faint, sweet scent of sweat hung in the air. Momo, Jihyo, and Sana were in the VIP area, close enough to the stage to feel every beat thump in their chests.

The pink handcuffs still chafed lightly against her skin but she was too ecstatic to notice. Momo was still laughing, a loud, unrestrained sound, as she held up her cuffed wrist to a camera someone from their team had passed to her. Sabrina was still on stage, taking her final bow with the kind of boundless energy that came from knowing you’d just put on an immaculate show. The crowd screamed her name. Jihyo couldn't deny it; it had been a good show. Impeccable, even.

Sana gave her a playful elbow to the ribs. “You alive? You look like you’re somewhere else.”

Jihyo smiled, but it was a little hazy. The sound and fury of the last two hours had left her feeling dazed, her head swimming with the echoes of bass and screaming guitars. “I'm still processing. It was a lot.”

Sana nodded, understanding. Her own cheeks were flushed with a post-concert glow.

As the crew started to clear the stage and the crowd began to slowly funnel out, a member of their team approached them, their hurried movements in sharp contrast to the slow pace of the departing audience. Sana was the first to hear what he said, her brow furrowing slightly in concentration before she nodded with a quick, bright smile. She turned back to the other two girls, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“Photo time,” she said simply, her smile wide.

Jihyo felt a flash of hesitation. Her body was tired, her mind still replaying the dizzying spectacle of the last two hours. But she nodded, seeing the genuine excitement on her friends’ faces. It was a special opportunity. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. Just one artist meeting others. They did it all the time. But the thought of standing next to Sabrina , whose presence had just filled an entire arena, was enough to make her heart skip a beat.

–

The backstage area was more intimate, colder, and less brilliant than the stage. It was a controlled chaos of people moving with efficiency—technicians, security, assistants. Sabrina appeared among them as if she were still wearing an invisible cloak of light. She greeted them warmly, without pretension. They exchanged a few words. Compliments, thank you’s. Momo talked more than the others. Sabrina responded with the same enthusiasm, her demeanor light and self-assured.

Jihyo stayed a little quieter, observing. Not out of discomfort, but because something within her had shifted rhythm. Momo was still holding the handcuffs, laughing with that mix of shyness and emotion that came out when she was truly impressed.

And then they were there: all ready for the photo. Jihyo stood on the far left, as she almost always did in these situations. Sana was next to her. Then Sabrina. Then Momo. Sabrina posed with one hand on Sana's back, the other resting loosely around Momo’s waist. Nothing strange. Nothing out of place. Just a casual gesture for a photo. But Jihyo felt, for the first time all night, a different kind of heat spread across her skin.

It wasn't envy. Not exactly.

It was more like she was watching a movie from very far away, unable to touch the screen. The camera flashed with a sharp click . A quick smile. A swift “thank you.” And then they were walking out again.

It was late, but the city still buzzed around them. The festival had that effect on everything. The streets were alive with people in glitter, crop tops, worn-out boots, and tired eyes still high on music. The air hummed with a low, electric energy, and the night felt young in a way that tricked your body into thinking sleep was optional.

They didn’t want to go back just yet. Someone—maybe Sana—suggested they walk around a bit. Just a little. So they did.

They wandered just beyond the festival grounds, to a quiet park nearby where the lights were softer, golden, hazy. The air here was cooler, cleaner, a welcome relief from the thick, smoky atmosphere of the concert. It was almost empty, save for a few other groups who had the same idea: a moment of peace after the chaos.

Momo was still wearing the fuzzy pink handcuffs, the chain clinking softly with every step she took. At some point, she playfully offered them to Jihyo.

“Come on, just for the photo,” Momo coaxed, her voice soft and teasing.

Jihyo rolled her eyes, but a small smile touched her lips. She didn’t say no. Sana pulled out her phone, the screen a bright rectangle in the soft light. Momo slipped one cuff around Jihyo’s wrist and closed the other on her own. The soft metal clicked lightly into place, a quiet, almost intimate sound.

They both posed—not dramatically, not jokingly—just… simply. A small smile, shoulders leaning in just slightly. Natural. Familiar. The photo was cute. Too cute, maybe.

Sana grinned when she looked at the screen. “This one’s going on the group chat, sorry.”

Momo laughed, a bright, clear sound that felt out of place in the quiet park. She gently tugged at the chain that linked them. “You’re not going anywhere now.”

And for a second—a brief, flickering second—Jihyo didn’t want to.

–

They took more photos. Sana and Momo posing dramatically in front of a food truck, flashing peace signs and goofy smiles. Jihyo, laughing behind the camera, the sound warm and genuine. Then they switched. Momo making finger hearts with a wink. Sana pretending to cry from pure joy, her hands on her cheeks. Jihyo in the middle of them, her own smile wide, eyes crinkled at the corners, trying to ignore the faint buzz on her wrist where the cuffs had been just minutes ago.

It was nothing.

Just adrenaline.

Just tiredness.

Just… something.

Momo snapped a selfie with Jihyo when Sana wasn’t looking, her phone held up between them. Their faces were close, soft smiles in the warm glow of the streetlights. Momo’s cheek brushed hers for a second too long, a quiet, feather-light touch that made Jihyo’s breath catch.

Then the moment passed. 

And eventually, exhaustion started to win. They called for a car, still joking around, trading snacks from a corner stand they’d found.

Jihyo walked beside Momo on the way back, the night air cooling her skin. The noise of the city around them softened to a gentle hum, the late-night traffic a distant murmur.

Momo was humming one of Sabrina’s songs, a happy, tuneless sound. She was still glowing, still lost in that place of happy disbelief.

Jihyo glanced down at her hand. The faintest red mark where the fake cuff had been. Just a little pressure. Already fading.

She looked up at Momo, who was still smiling to herself, her eyes reflecting the hazy streetlights. Something in Jihyo’s chest shifted—quiet, but firm. A door she hadn't known was there, had just clicked open.-

—

The car ride was quiet at first. The windows fogged slightly from the warmth of their bodies against the cool night air. City lights passed them in blurs of gold and red, their reflections streaking across the glass like falling stars. Sana had fallen asleep almost instantly, her head tilted gently against the window, mouth slightly open, phone resting precariously on her chest.

Momo sat beside Jihyo in the back seat, her legs folded up a little, her posture relaxed, almost sleepy. One hand played absently with the chain of the fuzzy cuffs, now hooked to her bag like a souvenir. Her expression was unreadable for a moment—neither fully present nor entirely lost, just a quiet, thoughtful calm.

Jihyo watched her from the corner of her eye, chin resting lightly against her hand. The steady hum of the tires on the pavement was a soothing rhythm, and yet something inside her chest felt uneven. Out of sync.

“Tonight was fun,” Momo said suddenly, her voice soft, not quite a whisper but close.

Jihyo glanced at her. Momo wasn't looking at her, just out the window. The passing lights cast fleeting stripes of gold and crimson across her face.

“It’s been a while since I felt like that,” she continued, her voice light and thoughtful. “Like… really light. Like everything was easy, even just for a few hours.” She let out a breath, not a sigh, more like a quiet release. “You know?”

Jihyo nodded, slow. She did know. She'd felt it too, at first—the joy, the heat, the rush of music under her skin. But then something had shifted, and now she couldn’t quite return to that feeling, no matter how much she wanted to.

“You looked happy,” she said simply.

Momo finally turned her head, her smile small, genuine. “So did you. At least when you weren’t being camera shy.”

“I did most of the talking,” Jihyo chuckled, a low sound in her throat. “And I let you two be the stars of the show.”

Momo laughed at that, quietly, the kind of laugh she only let out when she was truly relaxed. It made something ache behind Jihyo’s ribs.

A beat of silence passed. Comfortable. Almost.

Then Momo reached over without thinking and tugged gently on the cuff chain still dangling from her bag, her fingers brushing Jihyo’s wrist in the process. Just a fleeting touch—skin on skin, soft and warm.

Jihyo felt her breath hitch, a small, involuntary gasp.

Momo didn’t notice. Or maybe she did, and chose not to say anything. Outside, the world blurred past them. Inside the car, the space between them seemed to pulse with something quiet and unspoken.

Jihyo lowered her gaze to her lap. Her hands were folded neatly, her fingers tense.

She wanted to say something. She didn’t know what.

So instead, she said nothing. And Momo didn’t press.

The car continued through the city, heading toward the hotel, toward the quiet. 

–

The lobby was hushed, dimly lit in warm tones. The kind of quiet that settles late into the night, when most guests are already asleep and the world outside feels like it’s holding its breath. The air, cool and filtered, was a stark contrast to the festival grounds they had just left.

They stepped out of the car and into the hotel without saying much. Jihyo walked just behind Momo, her footsteps silent on the thick carpet. Sana trailed a little to the side, blinking slowly like she was halfway through a dream.

In the elevator, Sana leaned against the mirrored wall and let out a long, sleepy breath.

“I'm not even going to brush my teeth,” she murmured, with her eyes closed. “Don't judge me.”

Momo laughed under her breath, a soft, warm sound. “Too tired for dental hygiene. Got it.”

When the elevator doors slid open on their floor, the three of them walked down the hallway in silence. Everything felt muted, the carpet soft under their shoes.

Sana yawned again and stopped in front of her room. “Okay, goodnight. I love you both. Not equally. But you’ll never know the order.”

“Sleep tight,” Momo said, grinning.

“Try not to marry anyone else tonight,” Jihyo added, a small, tired smile on her face.

Sana only waved a lazy hand before disappearing behind the door with a soft click.

And then it was just the two of them.

They stood there for a moment. The air was thick with a new, different kind of silence. Jihyo could still feel the night buzzing faintly under her skin, like leftover static. Momo looked at her, then down the hall toward her own room.

“You wanna come in for a bit?” she asked. Her voice was casual, natural, the words unburdened.

But Jihyo’s breath caught just a little. She felt the weight of the question, and the answer, more than she should have.

She nodded. “Yeah. Just for a little while.”

Momo’s room smelled faintly of lavender and clean fabric. The air conditioning hummed softly, and the city lights filtered through the curtains, casting pale, shifting patterns on the floor.

Momo dropped her bag near the armchair and kicked off her shoes with a sigh of relief. Jihyo followed slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed, her elbows resting on her knees, her posture still tense.

The silence between them wasn’t awkward. Not yet. It just felt full. It was the kind of silence that held a thousand unspoken things.

Momo pulled two water bottles from the minibar and tossed one to her. “Hydration.”

Jihyo caught it midair. “Thanks.”

Momo sat cross-legged on the bed beside her, the fuzzy pink cuffs now lying forgotten between them, a silent artifact of the night's joy.

For a moment, they just sat like that. Breathing in the same quiet air. Listening to the distant, muffled hum of the city below.

“You’re quiet,” Momo said eventually, glancing at her.

“I'm just…” Jihyo paused. “Tired. Thinking. Both.”

Momo nodded slowly. “About tonight?”

Jihyo looked at her. Momo’s face was soft in the dim light. Open. Waiting, but not pushing.

“A little,” Jihyo said. “It was a good night.”

Momo leaned back on her hands, stretching her neck with a small yawn. “It really was. I think I needed it more than I realized. Just to feel a little… out of myself, for once.”

Jihyo didn’t answer right away. She was watching her—the gentle curve of Momo’s neck, the soft shadow her hair cast on her collarbone, the way her eyes seemed to glow even in the dim light when she was relaxed, completely unguarded. The silence was not empty, but thick with a new, unspoken energy.

Her fingers found the handcuffs lying between them on the bed, curling around the soft fabric. She turned them slowly in her hands, the fake metal clicking softly as it moved.

“You’re keeping these?” she asked, her voice low.

Momo chuckled quietly, a warm sound that filled the space between them. “Of course. They’re mine now. Part of my legacy.”

Jihyo looked up at her, eyes calm but sharp. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, quiet but teasing.

“You seemed pretty comfortable tonight,” she said, her voice dropping to a playful murmur.

Momo raised an eyebrow, a clear sign of amusement flickering in her eyes. “Oh yeah? How do you mean?”

Jihyo leaned in just a little, the space between them humming with a subtle, palpable tension. “You know… with all those eyes on you. You were glowing.”

Momo laughed softly, slow and warm, the sound a quiet challenge. “Well, it was a good show.”

Jihyo’s gaze sharpened, but there was no bitterness—only that familiar spark that comes from someone who knows exactly how to get under your skin. “Yeah, a good show. But I’m curious…”

“Curious about what?”

“Did you save some of that for me?”

Momo’s smile flickered for a moment, a playful fire lighting in her eyes as she considered the question. She leaned back a little more, crossing her arms over her chest, but never breaking eye contact. “Of course. You’re the headliner.”

Jihyo’s fingers brushed the cuffs again, then she slowly tugged one toward her, deliberate and smooth. “Then why did I feel like I was watching you from backstage tonight?”

“Well, maybe you were,” Momo’s words hung in the air, a teasing challenge.

Jihyo’s eyebrow rose, her confident smile deepening into something dangerously inviting. She leaned in slowly, deliberately, the small distance shrinking until Momo could feel the warmth of her breath brush against her cheek. The room seemed to pulse with quiet electricity, the noise fading into the background, leaving only the soft rhythm of their breaths.

“Maybe I like being backstage,” Jihyo whispered, her voice low and honeyed, as if she were sharing a secret only Momo was meant to hear. “Watching you work. Seeing you steal the show.”

Her fingers traced a feather-light path along Momo’s wrist, a touch both tender and possessive, sending a thrill that ignited a subtle fire beneath Momo’s skin. The warmth radiated where they connected, a delicious spark in the cool dimness.

“…But don’t forget,” Jihyo continued, her hand sliding up the curve of Momo’s forearm, her grip gentle but firm, grounding them in the moment. “…the best seat is right here.”

Momo let out a low, almost primal laugh, a purr that vibrated in her chest, her eyes widening with surprise and a flicker of something unspoken—a mix of delight and anticipation. “Ah, so I’m just your little secret then?”

Jihyo’s smile softened, shifting into something intimate, layered with knowing. She didn’t answer with words; instead, the silence between them grew thick and charged, alive with unspoken promises.

Slowly, deliberately, Jihyo closed the last inches, her movement unhurried, almost worshipful. The faint, sweet scent of Momo’s perfume wrapped around her like a whispered promise, intoxicating and close.

Her gaze drifted from Momo’s eyes down to her lips, lingering there just long enough to make Momo’s breath catch, before flicking back up—slow, deliberate, magnetic.

Her fingers moved next, light as a sigh, resting against the softness of Momo’s cheek. The warmth of her skin beneath her touch sent a slow-burning heat racing through Momo’s veins.

“I don’t know if you’re a secret,” Jihyo murmured, her voice dropping into a husky, intimate timbre that stripped away any playful edge, revealing something raw and serious beneath. “But tonight…”

Her thumb began a slow, teasing stroke along Momo’s cheekbone, each movement gentle, deliberate, like a question and an answer all at once. Momo’s breath hitched, the teasing lightness she’d worn moments ago vanishing, replaced by a profound vulnerability, a magnetic tension crackling in the charged silence.

“You were the one who was on fire.”

The words hung between them, heavy, intimate, pulling at something deep and fierce inside Momo. Without moving, she felt herself drawn closer, pulled by a force stronger than gravity.

Jihyo’s eyes locked onto hers—dark, intense, almost feral—and then she leaned in, her lips brushing the delicate shell of Momo’s ear with a featherlight kiss, sending a shiver spiraling down Momo’s spine.

“You know what they say about fire, Momo…” Her voice dropped to a near whisper, barely more than a breath, “You can’t look away from it.”

Jihyo’s words hung in the air, a final, confident admission. The silence that followed was heavy, alive with the sound of their own breathing. Momo’s eyes, wide with surprise, darted from Jihyo’s eyes to her lips and back again, a silent question. She didn’t move. She couldn’t. 

The heat of Jihyo’s presence, her breath on her ear, had broken something inside her. A barrier she hadn’t even known she had. There was no more time to think, to analyze. There was only one urgent truth that needed to be confirmed.

And then, Momo couldn't take it anymore.

The movement was sudden, clumsy, driven by a wave of desperation and a hunger she didn't dare to name. She lunged forward, closing the distance between them in a rush. Their lips met in a messy, quick, deep kiss. There was no grace in the kiss, only a raw need, a question answering itself in the chaos of their mouths.

The sound was a low, guttural growl that escaped Jihyo's throat. Her hands, which had been still, moved suddenly, one taking a handful of Momo's hair with a firm and painful grip, the other on her waist, pulling her closer with a force that took her breath away. The kiss intensified, becoming more voracious, more certain. 

Jihyo’s kiss grew faster, harder, and Momo could barely keep up. It was a whirlwind of lips, tongue, and teeth, and all Momo could do was hold on. The taste of Jihyo, the heat, the ferocity she was losing herself in, all of it flooded her senses. Her own hands, which had been in her lap, finally found their purpose, traveling up Jihyo's back, exploring every inch of her skin, and stopping at the ridiculously small and distracting strap of the crop top she was wearing.

Jihyo groaned into her mouth, a sound of pure satisfaction. She pulled away just enough to let out a sigh, and then she moved, her knees on either side of Momo's body, sitting down in her lap. The weight of Jihyo was a welcome sensation, a physical answer to the need they both felt. The kiss resumed, now with Jihyo in control, her lips reclaiming Momo, her hands firm on her neck.

Somewhere, in the space between kisses, Momo managed to pull away, if only for an instant. Her forehead rested against Jihyo's, their eyes meeting. Momo's breathing was heavy, her lips bruised and a little swollen.

“I thought you were mad at me,” she whispered, the vulnerability in her voice as raw as her hunger.

Jihyo shook her head, her expression dark and intense. She didn't respond with words, but with a kiss. She took her neck with one hand, her hair with the other, their lips meeting again with an uncontrollable fury. It was a fight, teeth and lips and tongue, a chaos that was strangely perfect. Momo groaned in response, her nails digging into the skin of Jihyo’s back, clutching her with desperation.

Jihyo shifted on top of her, a slight adjustment that made them both shudder. She pulled away just long enough to murmur, “No. I wasn't mad. Just thinking.”

“About what?” Momo asked, her voice a little raw, the vulnerability in her eyes a stark contrast to the ferocity of their kiss.

Jihyo denied it with a shake of her head. “Nothing that concerns you,” she answered, a playful glint in her dark eyes. And without another word, she crashed her lips against Momo’s again, the kiss hungry and demanding. Her hands then moved as if they had a life of their own. They slid from Momo’s neck down to her shoulders, her touch lingering on the soft skin there before moving further. Her fingers, warm and sure, moved over Momo’s chest, the slight rise and fall of her breath a rhythm against Jihyo's palm. She stopped at the edge of the first button of Momo's shirt, her fingers working with a dangerous calm to undo it.

Momo’s breath hitched, a soft, shaky sigh escaping her lips. Her own hands, which had been clutching Jihyo’s back, came alive. They slid down Jihyo's spine, past her waist, and settled on her hips, pulling her down, closer still.

The second button came undone, a soft click that was nearly lost in the sound of their heavy breathing. In response, Momo’s hands traveled lower, abandoning Jihyo’s hips to slide over the skin of her back, past the edge of her shorts, to the firm muscle of her thighs.

The third button, however, was a different story. As it finally gave way, Momo squeezed her hands tight, her nails digging into Jihyo’s skin with a fierce urgency. The pleasure-pain of it caused a low, guttural choke to escape from deep in Jihyo’s throat.

The following buttons did nothing but play with Momo's patience. Each one was a small test, a deliberate tease. One by one, Jihyo’s fingers worked with agonizing slowness, she broke the kiss, her eyes never leaving Momo’s.

Finally, the last button was free. The blouse was now nothing more than a hindrance, and Jihyo pushed the fabric off Momo's shoulders, letting it fall onto the bed with a soft rustle. Jihyo’s mouth went dry, her heart pounding in her chest as she took in the sight of Momo’s body in the dim light of the room.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” Jihyo whispered, her voice rough with awe. She didn’t wait for a response. She couldn't. Because Jihyo’s mouth was on her then, first a soft, sweet kiss to her cheek, then her jaw, her lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they began to lower.

Momo’s head fell back, her breath a series of soft gasps. Her hands moved again, reaching up to tangle in Jihyo’s hair, her fingers gripping the strands with a desperate urgency.

Jihyo’s kisses moved slowly, sensually, to the hollow of Momo’s throat, where she felt a frantic pulse fluttering beneath her lips. She tasted the salty sweetness of her skin, her tongue tracing a path down to her collarbone. The air was thick with the scent of them both, a mix of perfume, sweat, and something raw and undeniable.

Momo's body arched into Jihyo’s touch, a silent plea for more. The sounds of their breathing filled the quiet room—Momo’s ragged and quick, Jihyo’s low and steady. Every point of contact, every brush of skin, was a spark.

Jihyo finally broke the trail of kisses, pausing to look at the woman beneath her. Momo’s eyes were heavy-lidded, her lips bruised and swollen, a faint flush coloring her skin. In the haze of the moment, she was utterly, breathtakingly beautiful. A small, satisfied smile touched Jihyo's lips. 

“So pretty,” she murmured, her voice raw and thick with emotion. She pushed lightly on Momo’s shoulders until the girl was laying fully underneath her, a beautiful, willing surrender. “Aren’t you pretty, Momo yah?”

Momo’s heavy-lidded eyes slowly fluttered open, meeting Jihyo’s intense gaze. She couldn’t speak, her throat was dry, but her hands, which were tangled in Jihyo’s hair, tightened their grip, pulling her closer in a silent, desperate answer.

Jihyo’s smile deepened, a flicker of pure adoration in her eyes. The kisses returned, but this time they weren’t frantic. They were slow, deliberate, and possessive. She kissed Momo’s lips with a gentle tenderness that stole the breath from her lungs, then trailed up to cup Momo’s face, her thumb stroking her cheek with a soft reverence.

“The most beautiful girl in the world,” Jihyo whispered against her skin. “I love you, did you know that?”

“Y-yeah,” Momo said, her voice a fragile breath. “I know.”

Jihyo smiled, biting her lip, and sat up a little more, her knees still on either side of Momo's body. Her hands moved to the straps of her tank top, first the annoying ones that crossed her neck and back, and then the one on her shoulder. With a single flick of her wrist, she removed the top, sending it to the floor without a second thought. The cool air of the room hit her skin, and Momo felt her throat go dry.

Momo’s hands moved again, as if of their own accord, reaching up to touch Jihyo’s skin—her stomach, her sides, her breasts. Jihyo allowed it, a soft smile on her lips, her eyes closed in pure bliss. She moved her hips against Momo’s, a slow, sensual rhythm, using one hand on Momo’s stomach for balance.

“I was thinking,” Jihyo said, her voice a low purr.

“Uh huh,” Momo said, biting her lip as her nails trailed lightly over Jihyo’s skin. “About what?”

“About you,” Jihyo said, her eyes opening in a flash, and with one swift movement, she unhooked her bra, tossing it carelessly to the side. Momo’s eyes widened, her breathing catching in her throat as Jihyo’s body was fully revealed. Her hands moved up, passing over Jihyo’s erect nipples. Jihyo groaned, a low, pleased sound, and pressed her own hand against Momo’s to increase the pressure. “And about how, ah , tonight… you had a lot of fun, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Momo answered, completely mesmerized. “Too much.”

Jihyo nodded, a slow, satisfied smile on her face. She finally took Momo’s hands, stopping the movement of her fingers on her skin. “I think it’s my turn, don’t you?”

Momo frowned, blinking, the confusion heavy in her eyes. “Huh?”

A mischievous smile slid across Jihyo’s face. She moved slightly to the side, her hand searching in the mess of the bed until her fingers tangled in the soft pink chain. With a single motion, she took the fake handcuffs and held them up, the chain dangling between her fingers like a promise.

Momo blinked again, her eyes widening a little more as she recognized the object. She didn’t say anything. Neither did Jihyo. Instead, Jihyo reached for her wrists gently, her touch careful but certain. Her fingers closed around them with practiced ease, guiding Momo’s hands together, palms forward.

There was a soft click .

Then another.

The handcuffs locked in place, the sound barely audible over the rhythm of their shared, ragged breathing.

Momo stared down at her bound wrists, skin flushed, chest rising and falling with shallow, unsure breaths.

And then—
A kiss.

Jihyo leaned in and pressed a slow, soft kiss to the back of Momo’s left hand. Then another to the right.

Delicate. Reverent.

The warmth of her lips against skin sent a shudder rippling through Momo’s body. She bit the inside of her cheek to stay still, but her eyes were locked on Jihyo, heart pounding like a drum.

Jihyo lingered there for a second, her forehead brushing softly against Momo’s fingers. A small sigh escaped her lips, quiet and almost vulnerable, as she closed her eyes for a beat.

That was when Momo narrowed her eyes.

Something in her gut twisted—an instinct, sharp and annoyingly accurate.

“So you were mad at me,” Momo said, voice accusing but low, suspicious. Her brows furrowed slightly.

Jihyo blinked and pulled back slightly, looking up. “What?” she said, a bit too quickly.

“I knew it,” Momo continued, shifting her weight with a subtle clink of the cuffs. “You're mad. This is your version of evil!”

“I wasn’t mad at you!” Jihyo shot back, hands lifting in mock innocence, though the faintest smirk was tugging at her lips. “How does this have anything to do with me being mad?”

Momo gave her a long, narrowed look, her tone flat. “I know you.”

“Oh my god,” Jihyo muttered under her breath, laughing despite herself. “You’re insane.”

“You are punishing me!” Momo insisted, voice rising an octave, but her eyes were gleaming now—half outrage, half thrilled amusement.

Jihyo leaned in slowly, that smirk deepening into something dangerous, something playful. She placed one hand beside Momo’s hip, caging her gently, and lowered her voice to a whisper.

“Does it feel like a punishment?” she asked, voice velvet, eyes flicking down to Momo’s parted lips.

Momo hesitated, her breath stalling. The air between them crackled.

“…Maybe,” she whispered, cheeks heating. “A little.”

Jihyo leaned in closer, her lips brushing Momo’s jaw now, soft and slow. “Then maybe you deserved it.”

“God, I hate you.” 

“Yeah?” Jihyo’s free hand, the one not caging Momo’s hip, came up to cup her face, her thumb stroking a slow path across Momo's cheekbone. Momo's own hands, lightly restrained by the fuzzy cuffs, strained slightly, a silent, desperate plea to touch back.

Jihyo noticed the subtle movement and a low chuckle rumbled in her chest. She pulled her lips away from Momo’s jaw, but only to look her in the eyes, her gaze dark and full of a thrilling promise.

“Don’t worry,” Jihyo whispered, her voice a soothing lie. “I’m not a monster. I’m not just going to leave you here.”

She kissed Momo again, a slow, deliberate kiss that was a gentle confirmation of her words. It wasn’t frantic or demanding, but a possessive, tender kiss that promised everything and asked for nothing. Jihyo’s lips parted from hers with a soft sound, and she rested her forehead against Momo’s.

“This is for being so perfect tonight,” Jihyo murmured, her thumb stroking Momo’s cheek again. “It’s like a reward.”

Momo's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, her chest rising and falling rapidly as Jihyo's hand slid lower, tracing the curve of her hip with deliberate slowness.

The room felt alive with their energy, the air thick with the smell of their arousal. Jihyo leaned in closer, her locks falling forward to brush against Momo's cheek, a soft contrast to the unyielding pressure of her body pinning Momo in place.

“Hey, look at me,” Jihyo said softly, her tone shifting from teasing to something more commanding, drawing Momo's gaze back to her dark, intense eyes. Momo obeyed, her pretty features flushed with a mix of frustration and longing, her frame trembling under Jihyo's touch.

Jihyo's free hand wandered further, fingertips grazing the warm skin of her abdomen. “You're so responsive,” she whispered, her voice husky as she felt Momo's muscles tense and relax in rhythm with her explorations. Momo bit her lip, suppressing a moan that threatened to escape, her mind racing with the thrill of being at Jihyo's mercy.

As Jihyo's hand ventured higher, cupping the underside of Momo's breast with a gentle squeeze, Momo's restrained hands tugged again at the cuffs, a silent plea for more contact.

Jihyo chuckled, the sound low and vibrating against Momo's ear, her own form pressing closer to heighten the friction between them. “Patience,” she teased, her thumb circling Momo's nipple through the fabric of her bra, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the girl. The sensation was electric, a spark that spread through Momo's body, making her thighs clench involuntarily.

Jihyo pulled back just enough to admire her work, her beautiful face lit with a mischievous smile that made her eyes sparkle. “This is what you get for driving me crazy all night,” she said, her words a mix of praise and possession as she leaned down to kiss Momo's collarbone, her lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Momo's thoughts blurred, the world narrowing to the feel of Jihyo's mouth on her skin, the weight of her body, and the promise in her touch. She whispered Jihyo's name, a soft, desperate sound that only encouraged her further.

With a swift motion, Jihyo shifted, her knee sliding between Momo's legs to apply just the right pressure, drawing a gasp from Momo's lips. “Tell me what you want,” Jihyo urged, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as her hand finally slipped under Momo's bra, skin against skin now, exploring with confident strokes.

Momo's body responded eagerly, her hips bucking slightly against Jihyo's leg, the cuffs jingling softly in the quiet room. “You,” Momo breathed, her normal tone edged with raw need, “I want you to stop teasing.”

Jihyo pouted, a small, innocent look on her face. Momo groaned. “You said it was a reward!”

“Yeah, for me.”

“Oh, you're a— fuck .” Momo said, closing her eyes, feeling Jihyo’s finger pinch at her nipple. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, and her body arched. “Fuck.”

“You’re having fun?” Jihyo’s voice was a low purr against her ear, laced with mischief.

“Fuck you,” Momo managed, her voice strained, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. The words were a direct result of the frantic, electric pleasure she was feeling.

Jihyo chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through Momo’s body, and then pinched her nipple again, harder this time. “God. You were mad. What the fuck did I do?” 

“Nothing,” Jihyo said, her voice turning softer as she let go of Momo’s nipple, her hand moving to stroke her skin again.

“Y-yeah, sure,” Momo managed to say, her eyes still squeezed shut, her head moving from side to side in a silent plea. “Just… end this already.” Her hips bucked again, a desperate, involuntary movement.

Jihyo’s thumb stroked the soft skin of Momo’s abdomen, her movements slow and deliberate. “Why?” The question was a soft tease, but the look in her eyes, when Momo’s finally opened, was pure, unfiltered desire.

“Jihyo!” The name was a guttural plea, a mix of frustration and need.

“Okay, okay!” Jihyo finally said, her voice giving in with a soft, satisfied laugh. “You’re easy to break.”

Momo didn't get a chance to say anything else, because before she knew it, Jihyo was undoing her bra, letting it fall down her arms until it rested on her abdomen. Then, without warning, she leaned down, taking one of Momo’s nipples between her teeth.

Momo groaned, squeezing her trapped hands. “God…”

Jihyo hummed against her skin. “You taste delicious.”

“Shut up,” Momo said, closing her eyes, moving her hips slightly against Jihyo’s leg. The movement was desperate, the pressure almost nonexistent, but she could have come just with that. Jihyo wasn’t wrong; she was easy to break, even more so with the girl kissing, biting, and sucking on her breast like that.

It was simply impossible not to want to melt right there, under her girlfriend, on the sheets of an expensive hotel in Chicago. The feel of Jihyo's hair brushing against her neck, the warmth of her breath, and the wet heat of her mouth were an overwhelming combination. Jihyo's hands, now free, traced paths of fire up Momo's torso, her fingers toying with the bra that was still resting on her stomach.

Jihyo hummed against her skin, the sound a low, satisfied vibration that ran straight through Momo’s body. The small, sharp tug of Jihyo’s teeth on her nipple was followed by the soft, warm sweep of her tongue, a deliberate and agonizingly slow act of adoration.

Momo’s back arched, her hips lifting instinctively as she fought against the restraints.

Jihyo moved from one breast to the other, her lips and tongue mapping out every inch of Momo’s skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When she finally pulled away to breathe, she looked at Momo, her eyes dark and full of a thrilling, animalistic desire. A satisfied smile played on her lips.

“See?” Jihyo murmured, her voice husky. “I told you it was my turn.”

Momo bit her tongue to keep from answering; it was the best she could offer Jihyo at that moment, and she knew it was the right thing to do. In response, Jihyo bit her lip.

Her eyes scanned Momo’s body until they stopped on her shorts. Her eyes lit up, and the Japanese girl could feel an idea forming in her head.

Momo’s hips moved before she could stop them, before Jihyo could stop her. “ J-Jihyo ,” she said, breathless, hoarsely, “Please.” She was putting on a show now, rubbing against the girl’s thigh with slow, circular yet deep movements. “Please, Ji. Please.”

Jihyo didn’t answer. Her breathing quickened, her eyes darkened, and Momo knew she had awakened something in her girlfriend. She almost smiled with victory, almost.

Because Jihyo took her hips tightly, stopping her and moving her leg away, leaving Momo alone and cold. The Japanese girl felt like she could cry.

The sudden lack of contact was a physical shock. A shiver ran through her, not from cold, but from the raw frustration that pooled low in her belly. Her eyes, still heavy with longing, locked onto Jihyo’s, searching for an answer. She saw none. Jihyo’s expression was unreadable, her dark eyes now a thrilling, dangerous mirror of her own desire.

Jihyo’s gaze, slow and deliberate, moved down Momo’s body, tracing a path over her collarbone, her stomach, and finally coming to rest on the shorts she was wearing. A slow smirk, a wicked little thing, spread across Jihyo’s lips. The flicker in her eyes was back, brighter this time, like a dangerous idea had just taken root.

Momo’s breath hitched again, the frantic drum of her heart now a slow, agonizing beat. She knew that look. It was the look Jihyo got when she was about to take something, to claim something as her own.

“J-Jihyo,” she said again, her voice a plea, a soft, desperate sound in the quiet room. Her hips, aching for contact, bucked slightly, a desperate, unconscious movement.

“I know,” Jihyo’s smile widened, a low, satisfied laugh rumbled in her chest. She didn't respond with words, but with a deliberate, maddeningly slow action. Jihyo moved her hand from Momo’s hips, her fingers trailing up the side of her leg, over the soft fabric, to the button of her shorts. Her fingers toyed with it, a gentle teasing motion that had Momo’s hips arching off the bed in a silent plea. The light, taunting touch was almost worse than the abrupt coldness.

But Jihyo didn't make her wait any longer. Slowly, she undid the button and pulled the denim down Momo’s legs, carelessly tossing the garment to the floor. Jihyo then moved, spreading Momo’s legs wider, and licked her lips. “So wet just from a couple of kisses?” she teased.

Momo didn’t answer, she just closed her eyes. Jihyo laughed, moving slightly, her hands starting at Momo’s ankle, lightly scratching the skin. Then her touch rose, delicately, to her knees and her thighs, finally stopping where she was most wanted and most needed.

“So pretty, here, everywhere,” Jihyo murmured, and Momo was no longer sure who the words were for. “So good, Momo yah. You’re so good.” And then, Jihyo moved, her hand rising just enough to teasingly run her fingers over Momo's clitoris.

Momo let out a moan, her wrists starting to hurt from how the fake metal was digging into her skin, but she couldn’t say anything. She liked it. 

She liked everything about it, even more when her girlfriend slid down between her thighs. 

Her hips were still bucking slightly against the weight of Jihyo’s body, the cuffs on her wrists a dull, jingling weight. For one mind-melting, breath-stealing second, Jihyo's nose brushed against Momo’s skin, right through her underwear. A soft gasp escaped Momo’s lips, her body trying to buck up into the touch, but Jihyo’s hands were firm on her hips, holding her down, stilling the desperate movements. A frustrated groan escaped Momo’s throat, a low, animalistic sound of pure longing.

Jihyo’s hands, impossibly gentle and firm, continued to hold her in place. Jihyo pressed a slow, deliberate kiss into Momo's thigh, the warmth of her mouth a welcome sensation on her now-cool skin. Then she bit down, a sharp, playful nip that had Momo's body tensing. Just as quickly, Jihyo soothed away the sting, her tongue laving the spot with a tender, wet swipe.

Momo was gasping, or maybe she wasn’t breathing at all. The sensation was too much. Jihyo’s lips found her again, then again, a relentless, beautiful torture that left Momo's mind a blank slate.

And then, just as Momo’s world was narrowing to the singular focus of Jihyo’s mouth, a hand slid under her thigh. It snaked past the curve of her hip, into her underwear, and Jihyo grabbed a fistful of her ass. The grip was rough, her nails digging in as she groped and kneaded the flesh. A sudden, sharp gasp tore from Momo’s throat, her body clenching around nothing. She threw her head back with a choked-off scream.

She needed. Needed Jihyo, needed her fingers, her tongue.

Her mind was a singular chant: more. 

Just as Momo started feeling like she was actually going to lose her mind, Jihyo tore her underwear off. The sound of the fabric ripping was a stark punctuation in the quiet room. Momo gasped as the last bit of material peeled off of her wetness and watched through half-closed lashes as Jihyo glanced up at her, a slow, predatory smile on her lips, before dipping her head back down. Her breath was hot against Momo’s core and sent a shiver all the way up her spine. She kept her eyes on Momo as she dragged the flat of her tongue up her cunt, slow and deliberate. Momo’s head fell back onto the pillow, and the moan that tore out of her was high and rasped around the edges.

“Look at me,” Jihyo commanded, her voice a low growl that vibrated through Momo’s body.

Momo was breathing heavy, and it took her a moment to process Jihyo’s words. She propped herself up on shaky elbows, looking down at Jihyo who was waiting, lips wet, gaze heavy. It took all of her willpower to keep her eyes from shutting as her girlfriend licked another stripe from bottom to top, her tongue dipping inside for one electric moment before her lips wrapped around Momo’s clit.

“ Oh, oh my fucking god. ”

“Taste so good,” she hear Jihyo humming, “So fucking good, Momo yah.” Jihyo hoisted Momo’s legs over her shoulders, her hands gripping Momo’s thighs to hold her in place. Momo was completely consumed, feeling as though her body wasn't her own as Jihyo began to worship her.

Jihyo’s ministrations were raw and intense, a deep, guttural sound rumbling in her chest as her jaw worked and her nose bumped against Momo's most sensitive spot. 

She was trembling with a need so profound it stole the breath from her lungs. Her head was thrown back, eyes tightly shut as she let out a series of frantic gasps and broken pleas.

“Please, baby, holy shit, please ,” Momo babbled, her voice thick and pleading.

“Please what?” Jihyo’s voice was a low tease.

“Just don’t stop,” she begged, her voice now a strained whisper. “Please don’t, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

A low, dark laugh rumbled from Jihyo, a sound that sent a jolt of pure pleasure through Momo. Jihyo’s tongue flicked inside again and again, a teasing, expert rhythm. Momo’s hands, still trapped, tangled in Jihyo’s hair as her body began to unravel.

Jihyo’s thumb, light as a feather, pressed against her, a maddening contrast to the insistent curl of her tongue. Momo’s body was shaking now, every muscle tensing as she felt herself on the brink. Her climax was silent, a long, breathtaking wave that crested and crashed through her. Her entire body spasmed and went limp, a soft sigh of satisfaction escaping her lips.

But Jihyo didn't stop, and Momo felt stupid for thinking the girl would. This was her reward; Momo could no longer deny it. Even so, she groaned, closing her eyes and letting a pathetic sob escape her lips from the overstimulation.

Jihyo paused for a second, leaving one last kiss on Momo's clitoris before moving up her body, leaving bites on her abdomen, her chest, and finally her neck. Momo groaned, lifting her hands as best she could to thread them through her girlfriend’s hair, pulling her closer.

She felt a tear escape from the corner of her eye when Jihyo's fingers didn't waste any time, settling on her clitoris again. "Momoring," Jihyo whispered, her free hand rising to wipe the girl's tear. "Momoring, can you do one more?"

Momo could only nod, closing her eyes, moving her hips to press Jihyo’s fingers against her core. “Hey, hey. Use your words,” Jihyo whispered.

“Please,” she said, her voice broken. “Please, please, Jihyo. I–”

Jihyo didn't hesitate. She leaned in, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to Momo's lips, silencing her pleas. "Okay, baby," she whispered, her voice a soothing balm. "I'm right here.”

Momo was moist and sensitive, her core instantly enveloping Jihyo’s fingers. Momo was almost done, she was a whimpering mess as Jihyo plunged her slender fingers into her cunt. Jihyo bent down, swiftly locating Momo's neck. She kissed and nibbled at the soft skin while her fingers rhythmically moved in and out of her girlfriend's core. 

“Ji…” Momo’s hips were now moving on their own, a desperate, frantic rhythm pressing her core against Jihyo’s fingers as if her very existence depended on it.

“Yes?” Jihyo murmured, her warm breath a shock to Momo’s ear.

Momo gasped, stifling a growl that was half-pleasure, half-desperation. “Ji… Jihyo” was all she could manage. “I-… More, give me… more, another one,” she begged, her voice a strained whisper. It took Jihyo a beat to understand her breathless request, but the moment she did, Momo felt a second finger slide inside her, a seamless entry that stole what little breath she had left. The sensation was immediate and overwhelming, as if every part of her body was now focused on that one spot Jihyo was expertly stimulating. “Fuck!”

“Are you okay?” Jihyo’s voice was a low, concerned whisper, but her actions were anything but.

“F-fine,” Momo choked out, her hips now moving faster, her body a slave to the rhythm Jihyo had set. “Fuck me, come on. Faster.”

“Fuck Momoring.” Jihyo’s voice turned into a low growl, a primal sound of pure desire. Her fingers intensified their thrusts, a rhythmic pounding that made Momo’s core clench tighter with each stroke. Her mouth never left Momo’s breast, her lips and tongue working the sensitive flesh, while her thumb brushed lightly against the peak of Momo’s clit, a maddening, teasing touch.

“There.” She said, “D-don’t stop baby.” She was mumbling now, she didnt cared. “I love you, Ji, ah, god, I love you, I…I l-love you, I–”

Momo’s confession was a raw, breathless thing, torn from her in the midst of a pleasure so intense it was indistinguishable from pain. The words broke Jihyo’s rhythm, her fingers pausing for a brief, heart-stopping moment. Jihyo lifted her head from Momo’s breast, her eyes, dark and full of a thrilling intensity, meeting Momo’s. A soft, reverent smile spread across her face.

“I love you too, my god, I love you too, Momo.” Her voice was thick with emotion, a low, fierce whisper that was more powerful than any shout. She leaned down and kissed Momo, not on her mouth, but on the soft, wet skin of her neck, right below her ear.

With renewed intensity, Jihyo’s fingers began to move again, her rhythm a little faster, a little more desperate. 

The world had narrowed to a single, white-hot point of sensation. Momo’s head thrashed against the pillows, her trapped hands now tangled in Jihyo’s hair, her fingers gripping with a desperate, unthinking strength. The rhythmic thrusts of Jihyo’s fingers, the wet warmth of her mouth, and the teasing brush of her thumb created a perfect, agonizing storm of pleasure. A choked-off whimper tore from her throat as her body tensed, the muscles in her legs and back seizing in a beautiful, painful spasm.

She was coming, a powerful, overwhelming wave of sensation that seized every part of her body. Her back arched, her hips rising off the bed in a final, shuddering movement. Her entire body spasmed and went limp, a soft sigh of pure satisfaction escaping her lips as she fell back against the pillows, her entire being humming with a profound, deep-seated pleasure.

Jihyo stayed with her, lying close, her hand resting gently on Momo’s cheek, the warmth of her palm grounding them both. Her body pressed against Momo’s in a way that wasn’t heavy but anchoring—comforting, familiar. She leaned in and placed a tender kiss on Momo’s forehead, then another on each fluttering eyelid, and finally, the softest kiss to her lips. It was reverent, almost apologetic.

Then Jihyo lowered her head and rested it against Momo’s chest, her ear pressed right over her heart. The frantic rhythm from before—quick, pulsing, alive—was starting to slow now. Still rapid, but steady. Beautiful.

She closed her eyes, letting that sound settle her own breath. In that quiet moment, everything else—everything outside this room—faded away.

But eventually, reality nudged her back.

Jihyo sighed, long and slow, the sound leaving her like a weight being set down. She knew she had to move, even if her body didn’t want to. She shifted slightly, and Momo let out a quiet, soft protest—more a sound than a word. A tiny whimper that barely broke the air but struck Jihyo like a gut-punch.

God, she didn’t want to leave her.

But she did. Just enough to sit up. Just enough to check.

Her eyes fell to Momo’s wrists. The handcuffs.

Jihyo reached for them, the fuzzy material brushing her fingertips. With careful hands, she unfastened one side, then the other. The small clicks of release sounded jarringly loud in the hush of the room. She tossed them aside without a second thought. They clattered softly to the floor and slid beneath the bed—out of sight, where they suddenly felt like they belonged.

And then she saw it.

The marks.

Jihyo’s heart stopped.

A flush of panic bloomed in her chest as she leaned closer, her eyes widening at the soft, angry red lines left behind by the metal. They weren’t deep. They weren’t bleeding. But they were there—clear, obvious, branded on pale skin like a whispered regret.

“Oh my God…” she breathed, voice cracking. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached out, hesitant, her fingertips barely grazing the outline of the mark. She couldn’t bring herself to press harder, not even to trace it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely audible. Her chest tightened. “God, I didn’t think it would... I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” Momo murmured, her voice slow and syrupy with exhaustion. She was still lying on her back, arms now free, her head turned toward Jihyo. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her lips curved in a sleepy, soft smile.

Without looking away from her, Momo lifted one hand, fingers brushing against Jihyo’s cheek in a tender motion. Then she slid her hand down, found Jihyo’s, and laced their fingers together—effortless, sure.

The way she always did.

“Hey,” she said gently, squeezing Jihyo’s hand once. “It’s okay.”

Jihyo shook her head, swallowing hard. “But I didn’t— I should’ve checked sooner, I should’ve—”

“Ji,” Momo interrupted softly, her thumb now brushing over the back of Jihyo’s hand. “It’s okay . You didn’t hurt me.”

Jihyo looked down at her, brows still furrowed in worry. Her thumb nervously traced the edge of Momo’s knuckles, back and forth, back and forth.

“I never want to cross a line,” she whispered. “Not with you.”

“And you didn’t,” Momo reassured her, voice stronger now, anchored in sincerity. “You were careful. You were gentle. And even now... look at you.”

She smiled, tired but playful, her other hand reaching to lightly tap Jihyo’s chest. “You’re panicking over a pink line that’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

Jihyo didn’t laugh. Not yet. But her shoulders eased just a little.

Momo gave her a look then—one of those rare, open expressions that made time feel like it paused. “I trust you,” she said simply. “With this. With me.”

Jihyo finally breathed again. A real breath. Deep, steady.

She leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to the inside of Momo’s wrist, just above the faint mark. Then another, and another—each one soft, apologetic, and full of quiet love.

Momo let her, eyes fluttering closed, her body relaxing into the mattress again.

“I love you,” Jihyo whispered, her lips brushing her skin.

“I know,” Momo whispered back, her voice barely audible. “Me too.”

There was a beat of silence. A moment where the weight of the evening lingered, suspended gently between them. And then Jihyo sighed—long and low, like something she’d been holding in finally loosened.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked softly, her fingers now stroking Momo’s wrist, careful as if she thought she might hurt her again just by touching. “I wasn’t too rough?”

Momo didn’t open her eyes. Instead, she let out a quiet, lazy growl—half groan, half grin curling at the edge of her lips. “Where’s her ?” she mumbled into the pillow.

Jihyo blinked. “Who?”

“The Jihyo from ten minutes ago,” Momo said, finally cracking one eye open, her voice slow and teasing. “The one who pinned me down and fucked me till i saw stars. That girl was hot. I wanted to ask her a few things.”

Jihyo flushed instantly, her mouth parting in protest. “Yah—Momo!”

But before she could sputter further, Momo reached up with both arms and pulled her in, wrapping Jihyo into a warm, sleepy hug. Jihyo tumbled forward with a small gasp, her face pressed against Momo’s neck now, heart racing.

“Relax,” Momo whispered against her hair. “I’m okay. I promise.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind Jihyo’s ear. “If something had felt wrong, you’d have been the first to know. I would’ve told you to stop, and you would’ve stopped. I know that. And you know that.”

Jihyo sighed again, but this one was softer—closer to contentment. Her arms circled Momo’s waist, settling into the embrace without a fight this time. “Yeah… I guess I just overthink everything.”

Momo smiled into her hair. “You overthink, and I get dramatic. Balance.”

A quiet laugh escaped Jihyo’s throat, muffled by the curve of Momo’s shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m yours,” Momo corrected.

That silenced Jihyo for a beat. And then: “Okay, now I need to find that Momo from ten minutes ago.”

Momo smirked, pulling the blankets around them both. “She’s not far.”

Jihyo smiled at the response, lifting her head just enough to look down at Momo properly. Her eyes softened, mouth curving into something gentle and warm. Without needing to say anything, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to her girlfriend’s lips—unhurried, full of affection.

It wasn’t teasing or hungry. Just soft. Grateful. Home.

When she pulled away, she rested her forehead against Momo’s for a second before letting herself collapse back into her arms, sighing against her collarbone. “Do you think…” she mumbled, the words caught between a sigh and a whisper, “we were too loud?”

Momo chuckled, a lazy, satisfied sound that vibrated through her chest. “Not a chance.”

“You don’t think Sana—?”

“She’s completely dead to the world,” Momo replied with a smirk. “You know how she sleeps. Like a rock.”

Jihyo let out a breathy laugh, nestling into Momo’s body again, letting her cheek rest over her heart. Her fingers idly began to trace light shapes across the bare skin of Momo’s stomach—absentminded, affectionate. Circles. Lines. Nonsense shapes that said, I’m here. I’m not letting go.

Silence settled between them again—not heavy, just full . The kind of silence that came when you didn’t need to fill the air with anything else. Just skin against skin. Breath syncing slowly.

Then, softly—

“You were mad at me, though,” Momo murmured, her voice low. Not accusatory. Just knowing. “Right? Just tell me the truth already.”

Jihyo didn’t answer. Instead, she let out a quiet, exasperated huff and rolled her eyes where Momo couldn’t see it, pressing her face deeper into the crook of her neck.

Momo waited. Smiling.

But Jihyo didn’t offer anything. Not a word of protest. Not a denial. Just a small, intentional scoot closer—her arm tightening around Momo’s waist like a quiet fine, maybe .

“I have nothing to say about that,” she mumbled against her skin, “but…”

Momo blinked. “But?”

Jihyo’s hand moved suddenly, pressing a single finger into the center of Momo’s chest, just below her collarbone. “… this I have something to say about.”

Momo glanced down, confused for a moment—until she saw what Jihyo was staring at. The faint bruise blooming on her skin. “You should cover that,” Jihyo muttered, her voice low, possessive in a quiet kind of way. Not jealous, just… claiming.

Momo grinned, teeth catching her bottom lip. “Why? Afraid the girls will notice?”

“I’m not afraid,” Jihyo said plainly, dragging her finger in a slow circle around the mark. “I just don’t want them looking at something that belongs to me .”

Momo laughed. “Wow.”

Jihyo shrugged, tilting her chin up, her face unreadable. “What?”

“Nothing. Just…” Momo sighed dramatically, pulling Jihyo closer again. “There she is.”

Jihyo arched a brow. “Who?”

Momo kissed the top of her head, letting her lips linger there. “The Jihyo from ten minutes ago.”