sweet, soft, cotton.
sweet, soft, cotton.
a pink. chorong/bomi. r.
it's the little things that make happiness.
It’s cold as she waits outside the gates of her high school. It isn’t even all that late, but Chorong was supposed to be there ten minutes ago and the sky is already darkening and Bomi can feel the chill start seeping in through her uniform.
Thankfully she doesn’t have to wait much longer and she sees a familiar figure heading towards her, not looking cold at all even though her legs are bare and her coat isn’t even buttoned.
“Unni! You’re late!” Bomi doesn’t even wait until she reaches her; she darts out towards the older girl, hands already reaching out to grab her hand, which is warm.
The older girl laughs, light and pretty, and Bomi feels her breath hitch. “Am I? Sorry, Bomi… unni will make it up to you, eh?” She leans in close, softly pecking the younger girl on the cheek.
Bomi doesn’t even have time to be embarrassed and shriek over the affection before Chorong is linking their arms together and leading them away from the high school.
Walking with Chorong is always interesting. Sometimes the older girl is quiet, letting Bomi talk about whatever she liked without interruption and sometimes she’s the chatterbox; relaying her day full of people Bomi doesn’t know and stories she doesn’t quite understand. Today though, they’re both quiet, the cold of the afternoon making them less wanting to speak.
Bomi shivers when a cold gust of wind blows over them and tries to burrow deeper inside her jacket, to no use. She doesn’t see Chorong glance over, but she does let out a relieved sigh when she feels the older girls scarf wind around her neck, the thick fabric blocking her cheeks from the cold.
After that, the time it takes to get to Chorong’s shared apartment is short. The older girl stands as close as she can on the ride up the elevator, hands clutching at Bomi’s waist underneath her jacket, cold nose pressed against her cheek.
When they reach her floor, Bomi leaves first, Chorong walking closely behind her. The older girl lets her open the door, keying in her passcode with no hesitation. She’s been to Chorong’s apartment enough times that she’s no longer shy about entering.
Her roommate is out, judging by the way everything is turned off so that they have to stumble their way through the apartment with nothing but the small amount of light coming from the half opened blinds to let them see.
Chorong’s room is warm, and Bomi strips off her outwear, laying it neatly across the back of her desk chair. Chorong just tosses everything on the floor.
“Come here.” Chorong sits on her bed, one arm out behind her to support her body, the other outstretched towards Bomi, finger crooked in a classic ‘come hither’ motion.
Bomi does, socked feet scuttling on the floor before she climbs in Chorong’s lap, arms coming up to rest on her shoulders. Even doing so little has her blood pumping faster and she knows her cheeks are now red from more than the cold. Chorong laughs at her, hands gripping her waist, sliding under her white school blouse.
“Unni said she’d make it up, didn’t she?” she murmured, before leaning up to press small kisses along her neck.
Bomi whimpers in the back of her throat, tilting her neck to give Chorong more room. The older girl takes it, letting her hands roam while she’s at it. Her school shirt is tugged on insistently, the buttons coming loose soon after. Bomi helps the older girl push it off, letting it hit the floor with a soft sound. Chorong’s got her hands on her stomach, pressing into the soft skin before reaching up to cup her breasts over her bra.
“Cute,” she mutters with a smile when she notices the pink hearts and blue flowers decorating the fabric of her bra. Bomi doesn’t have time to be embarrassed before Chorong is falling back on the bed and rolling them over so she’s leaning over her.
“Do they match your panties?” she asks, her smile growing larger. Chorong liked that she wore matching sets, according to her they were ‘innocent’ and ‘cute’, ‘very high school girl of you’.
Bomi huffs slightly, her arms folding over each other. “Why don’t you find out?” she suggests, spreading her legs a little so her school skirt slides up her thighs.
Chorong takes the invitation quickly, sliding one hand under her skirt while the other fiddles with the button closure. She presses her fingers against her and Bomi shudders because, if she wasn’t wet before, she is now and just the slightest touch from the other girl feels good.
Unfortunately the touch doesn’t last long and Chorong’s pulling away, ignoring her whine of protest since she’s busy pulling her skirt off, urging her hips up, before tossing it on the floor. Her own shirt follows, joining the steadily growing pile of clothes on the floor.
“They do match~” Bomi looks down and sees Chorong grinning down at her matching panties as if she’s just discovered gold and buries her face against her pillow, hearing the older girl’s laughter follow the action.
“So cute, my Bomi,” she mutters before she slides her hand down the cotton fabric. Chorong’s never been one to take her time, diving into whatever task she wanted with boldness; it’s partially the reason they’re even together at all and Bomi wouldn’t have it any other way.
The older girls touch is expert, and before she knows it, Bomi’s pressing her face against the bed pillows to muffle her moans, arching into Chorong’s touches without shame
She can feel heat stir in her belly and her nerves are hyper-aware of every graze of skin against skin, of Chorong’s fingers as they tug her panties down until their dangling from one ankle, of her lips pressed against her stomach as she continues to work her over.
“How is it?” Chorong mutters against her hip and Bomi can’t even begin to formulate a coherent thought, she just arches up into the older girl’s touch with a whimper.
“Unni…please…” Bomi can feel herself tense up and when she finally comes, it’s with her toes curling in the bedcovers and her face pressed against the pillows with Chorong’s name falling from her lips in stuttered gasps.
Her body sags against the bed, completely spent, and she can hear Chorong’s faint laughter as she presses kisses along her skin before lying next to her, face pressed against her throat.
Chorong’s teeth nip lightly at her skin, her arm slinging itself around her waist as she cuddles closer. “Bomi…we aren’t done, are we?” she asks, a pout on her face.
Bomi turns to face her, a satiated grin on her face. “No way.”