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almostsaidiloveyou · 25 days ago

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Imagine #12: “They say summer is like a movie…”

(Cliché 90s Slasher Camp story - mild fluff - mild nsfw - switch!reader - 1.8k words)

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

Summer smelled like pine tress, cheap bug spray, and sweat soaked in cotton. You've been coming to Camp Crystal Lake since you were barely 16. First as a camper, then as a junior counselor, and now finally, a full-blown counselor with your own group of whiny middle-schoolers and wayyy too much responsibility. But you didn’t mind, not really.

Because she was there. Summer smelled like her the most.

She was your secret since your first summer as junior counselor. Sneaking around the same camp as if the trees were narcs and the canoes could talk.

She would roll her eyes and call you 'corny,' whenever you said something too sweet. Pass you her menthols behind the archery shed, while the camper had lunch or swimming activities. Hold your face as you kissed her under the stars, surrounded by fireflies.

You only allowed yourself to fall in love for 8-weeks nothing more. It was like an unspoken rule you both agreed upon. 'This was just a summer thing.'

You never wrote letters. She never called your house. Your phone was connected to the kitchen wall and your mom never left the room long enough for you to say anything more than a, "Hi." And anyways, what would you even really say?

"Hey, I miss you like hell. I still sleep with your socks sometimes."

"I still dream about your shoulders pressed against mines while the crickets scream outside."

No. It was better this way. Summer was the only time you could both indulge.

You were the last one to arrived this year, you found her leaning against the canoe shed with the other counselors. She and the others had already changed into the camp staff tee.

You couldn't help but smile as you walked up to her: a cig between her lips, denim cutoffs that rested low on her hips you could see the logo of the boxers she wore. Her same smug--beautiful smirk.

"You came back," she said. You didn't say anything, just pulled her by the loops of her pants.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

Weeks passed in secret touches under the mess hall tables, kisses stolen behind the arts and crafts shed, and nights you would sneak off into the empty game room and press yourself against her thighs until yours trembled. You slept in separate bunks, barely made touched each others hands when the kids were around. But in the dark? She knew your body better than yourself.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

That night, all the counselors gathered around the campfire. Everyone circled around still in their sweaty staff t-shirts: joints were being passed around lazily, lukewarm whiskey that was snuck in was being poured inside red solo cups.

You sat on a log with an empty cup at hand, her head resting your shoulder while you both playful bumped knees together. The air buzzed with weed smoke and static hums of crickets.

"Kay, but seriously," Cam shuffled in his seat, unnecessarily filling in the tranquil silent He was the type to bring about 5 flashlights and a first aid kit when even going to the bathroom. "Ain't it always starts the same? Some hot couple goes off to fuck in the woods or sm'thing. The killer comes and--"

Someone cut him off with a loud groan, "My God, here he goes again." Laughter followed right after.

"Shut up, I am begin serious!" fireflies light flickering off the lenses of his glasses. "Statistically, people who have sex in horror movies? They die."

"You are not Randy Meeks from 'Scream', Cam." A female counselor said passing the joint to your girlfriend.

"Statistically, hot people die in horror movies...so why are you so worried?" She chuckled, taking a long drag of the joint, and passing it to you.

"My point exact, Randy survived the first movie," Cam argued, glaring at the girl across the fire. She just rolled her eyes at him and gulped whatever was in her cup.

Cam shifted his attention to you and your girlfriend, her arm now lazily draped over your shoulder. "Hot people? Right right, that's why Tatum and Stu died. They were the hot couple."

"Cam, you're so fucking dramatic." Someone muttered under their breath.

He just ignored them of course. "But...I'm not sure if it counts with, y'know, homosexuals," he added casually, like it was another fun fact.

You scoffed and launched your red cup at him. "Shut up asshole."

He dodged it, laughing, "I am just saying... if this were a horror movie...you both are next."

You gasped, sitting up straight rapidly. Fear in your eyes like you've been told you only had a week to live. "Oh NO!"

Grabbing your girlfriend's face between your hands, you stared at her, wide-eyed; "We're going to DIE!"

At first she blinked, confused and a little bit worried. Then played along perfectly. "No!!" she shirked, clutching your shoulders as she let out the most girliest-over-the-top-dramatic-slasher film scream.

You both collapsed into giggles, pressed close, while the rest of the counselors laughed or groaned around the fire.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

The camp lounge was just across the trail. Since it was past 10:30p.m, that was considered "closed after hours," but that only made it better. No lights--no supervision. The vending machine was the source of light, the humming filling the air.

You both snuck away from the group, everyone was already tipsy or their heads was in the clouds.

The moment the wooden door shut behind you both, it was like having a curtain over the rest of the world.

She backed you into the couch, fingers under your oversized t-shirt. Her hands were everywhere.

EVERY TIME you kissed like you were both starving, like it had been months (because it had). The tension was always there, because you both truly didn't know if this would be the last summer between you two.

"C'mere," she mumbled against your lips. Pushing you down on the old saggy couch besides the trophy case with a soft grunt. She climbed onto your lap, straddling you with no hesitation. Her thighs squeezed your sides, firm and strong from all the hiking trails. Your hands found her waist, your fingers slipping just under the band of her boxers.

"You still wear the ones with the little hearts on 'em?" you murmured against her lips.

"This an excuse to take my pants off?" She grinned.

You did just that, slid your hand under the waistband, past the soft fabric, until your fingers dipped into wet heat. She inhaled sharply, her forehead resting against yours as you found her clit and rubbed slowly in circles. She rocked into your hand, already wet for you.

"You missed me that bad?" you teased. She bit her lip and let out the softest "Shut up," you'd ever heard.

You knew exactly where she liked her neck being kissed, the same spot where you left marks last summer. She was getting needy, her hips moving faster; you gave her exactly what she wanted, slipped two fingers inside. She clenched around you, moaning quietly into your shoulder as you curled your fingers just right.

"Fuck....right there," she whsipered, gasping, eye fluttering tightly shut.

The couch creaked with every movement, her skin hot against yours. You felt her muscles twitch, the way her breath stuttered with each slow thrust of your hand. She clawed at your shoulders, held onto you like she was scared of falling apart. You watched be ruined, her body tensing, legs trembling around you.

You didn’t stop until she was shaking.

When she came down, she didn’t say anything, just kissed you slow. She pressed her lips against your collarbone, her teeth grazed your skin.

"If we do die, at least I made you cum one last time, eh." You were smug and breathless, your lips forming into a smile against hers.

She chuckled and leaned back. Tugging your shorts down halfway in one single move. "You talk too much."

All Winter she dreamt about this: sliding your legs around her shoulders, the soft sounds you made when her mouth got close, the way you always shook just before you begged her for more.

Her tongue slid over the soaked fabric of your underwear. Pressing with her nose just enough to get a reaction. She kissed you there, slow and hungrily. She moved your underwear to the slide, her tongue was slow at first, teasing you, licking through, the tip circling your clit until you whimpered.

She secured herself on your clit, sucking softly, tongue flicking just right. You did not give a fuck about the fact that anyone could pass and hear you moan. How could you care with her between your legs, doing exactly what you both been wanting for since the first leaf that fell in September.

“Gosh…you’re so wet,” she mumbled against you.

There it was, the shaking right before you told her to ‘not stop.’ She flicked her tongue faster. One of her hands slid up to your stomach, feeling your muscles tensing.

“You’re close?” Her thumbed replaced her tongue and began circling you. You nodded rapidly, throwing your head back, grinding yourself against whatever was giving you friction.

“Cum for me…” God her voice was so fucking sweet. The command was so fucking sweet.

You obeyed, shaking, eyes fluttering shit, thigh shamelessly tightening around her head as you came against her tongue. Your hips creating a pattern, the orgasm flooding through you.

She didn’t stop, not until you were twitching. You kept trying to push her head away, she wasn’t letting it happen, you were overstimulating.

And still, she did not stop.

You twitched, very oversensitive now, your hand weakening to push her away.

She ignored it and kept licking. Kept sucking.

“P-p-please…” you gasped, laughing and crying all at once (mainly laughing), trying to squirm away.

She kissed your thighs softly, she couldn’t help herself. Her lips and chin were glistening catching the reflection of the vending machine light.

She didn’t look wild nor cocky or dark with lust, like she usually would when she sneaks into your bunk.

She looked…in awe

She left out a soft disheveled laugh, eyes fixed on you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

Then she crawled up, slow and gentle and kissed you. The kind of kiss that tasted like you, like summer, like the marshmallows you roasted with the campers. You wrapped your arms around her, holding her longer than you should’ve. Her weight on you, her hands pulling up your shorts.

You felt warm and safe

You wanted to tell her you loved her~

You almost did.

CREAK

Both of you froze. She paused breath hot against your neck: “did you hear that?”

You giggled softly, “Cam is getting in your head?”

She rolled her eyes and sat up, pushing her hair away from her face. She was going to say something when then;

THUMP

This time you both jumped. It wasn’t close but it was real. Like someone was stepping on loose boards just outside the door.

She mouthed “what the fuck.” Someone one or something was slamming against the side of the wall. Hard, like a fist or boot.

You clutched her hand. “Run!”

Maybe Cam was right….’sex = death.’

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

Continuation…

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lostlikesaebyeok · 3 months ago

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hi i love your works so much!!! you have no idea how happy i am seeing something new in the sae byeok hashtag everyday it's so refreshing you're doing god's work🙏🙏 could i perhaps request an enemies to lovers with sae byeok plus one bed trope 👀 ends in something steamy maybe?

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂𝒆-𝒃𝒚𝒆𝒐𝒌 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

✧˚·̩͙﹕𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒍𝒆: campfire heat

✧˚·̩͙﹕𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

✧˚·̩͙﹕𝒂𝒖: summer camp volunteer au

✧˚·̩��﹕𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: enemies to lovers, slow burn, nsfw implications, tension, one bed trope

✧˚·̩͙﹕𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: explicit content, enemies to lovers tension, forced proximity (one bed), kissing, mutual pining disguised as hatred

✧˚·̩͙﹕𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚:

you hated her lazy attitude, her smug little smirk, the way she always made you clean up after her.

but eleven days into camp and one shared bed, you realise it was never really hate. not the kind that wins.

you didn’t mean to get paired with her.

you were minding your own business, tugging your bag over your shoulder, when the director of the volunteer camp called your name. “you’ll be rooming with kang sae-byeok. take key seventeen.”

your stomach dropped before you even turned. because you knew exactly who she was. sharp-jawed. sharp-tongued. always standing in the back like she was ready to flee. you’d argued with her during volunteer meetings more times than you could count. about how to split food. about who got what shifts. about whether she was even taking this seriously.

you didn’t hate her. but you certainly didn’t not hate her.

“of course,” you muttered. because your luck always ran out when it came to her.

the cabin is small. too small. your bags hit the floor and you both stand there, glaring at the one bed against the far wall. it’s queen-sized, but barely. the mattress dips in the middle. the room’s thin walls are lined with bare wooden shelves and the smell of pine hangs thick in the air.

sae-byeok is already crossing her arms.

“i’ll sleep on the floor,” she says.

you raise a brow. “why? scared to be near me?”

her eyes narrow. “scared of you? please.”

“then sleep in the bed.”

she scoffs. but she doesn’t argue.

you smirk and turn to unpack.

the next few days are tense.

you work all morning helping local kids with schoolwork and cleaning up community spaces, and then you come back to this cramped, cold room with sae-byeok in it. she’s barely ever there. usually off on a walk or sitting under some tree. but when she is, she’s silent. changing clothes behind the wardrobe door. brushing her teeth without a word. throwing herself into bed with her back to you.

and god, the bed.

you started by drawing an imaginary line down the middle. no crossing. no touching. just your side, her side. but the mattress sags, and on the second night, your hips bumped.

neither of you said anything.

by the third night, her knee brushed yours in the dark, and you didn’t move away.

you argue again on day four. something stupid.

you’re sitting on the cabin steps, boots unlaced, tired and sore and sore-minded. she walks up with two granola bars. offers one. you snatch it, mutter “thanks,” and she shrugs like she regrets it already.

“you could try not being a bitch all the time,” you say after a beat.

she stops unwrapping her bar. turns her head.

“you think i like dealing with you?” she says coolly.

“you act like you’re too good to talk to anyone.”

“maybe i am.”

your eyes narrow. “what’s your problem?”

she takes a bite of her granola bar. chews. swallows. “you talk too much.”

“and you don’t talk enough.”

you both stare. the wind whistles between the trees.

then–

“maybe i’d like you better if you weren’t so loud,” she mutters.

and maybe it’s exhaustion. or maybe it’s the way her eyes flick down to your mouth like it’s muscle memory. but your breath hitches. your heart stumbles.

you don’t say another word.

that night, the tension follows you into the cabin like fog.

she takes her time changing. her tank top rides up when she reaches for something, and you see the sliver of muscle at her side. you look away too late.

in bed, you lie stiff on your side. you feel her warmth behind you. closer than usual. maybe the cold’s worse tonight. maybe she shifted in her sleep.

maybe you don’t mind.

you wake up tangled.

her thigh is over yours. her arm heavy on your waist. her breath on your neck.

you freeze.

but her hold is soft. possessive. like she knows you’re there, even asleep.

you stay still for a long time.

after that, something breaks.

not out loud. you still argue. still roll your eyes when she shrugs you off. still huff when she disappears for hours.

but the touches become normal.

a shoulder bump. a hand on your lower back when someone gets too close. her fingers brushing yours when she passes you something.

your name sounds different in her voice now. softer. like a thread pulled taut.

and god, you want to pull it.

day eleven. it rains.

your clothes get soaked. you run back to the cabin with mud on your legs and your hair stuck to your neck. sae-byeok’s already inside, peeling off her wet hoodie.

you stop. she’s in just a black sports bra, damp against her skin. her eyes lift when she sees you.

neither of you says anything.

you shut the door behind you.

“cold?” she asks.

you nod.

she nods back. “the water pressure on the shower is shit, take a bath instead tonight.”

you laugh. “figures.”

you change out of your wet clothes behind the wardrobe door. but it doesn’t matter. she sees you later, when you come out in a towel and the air is thick and quiet and you can feel her watching your bare legs like she’s angry at them.

you dry off. dress. slip into bed.

she joins you. her hair’s damp too. her skin smells like rain and earth.

you lie there, staring at the ceiling.

then, her voice is low.

“why do you hate me?”

you blink. “what?”

“you always argue. you glare like i’m a problem.”

you roll onto your side, facing her. “maybe because you are.”

her eyes search yours.

you sigh. “i don’t hate you.”

“could’ve fooled me.”

you hesitate. then–

“you make me nervous.”

that stops her.

“…why?”

you don’t answer. but your hand moves. slides between the sheets. touches her wrist.

she doesn’t pull away.

you breathe. “because you make me feel things i don’t know what to do with.”

her fingers curl around yours.

you look at her mouth.

“say it,” she murmurs.

“i want you.”

and it’s enough.

her hand fists your shirt. pulls you in. your lips crash together like you’ve been waiting to lose.

she kisses hard. hungry. her knee slips between yours and your breath catches. you clutch at her waist, sliding your hand under her shirt, feeling the heat of her.

she moans softly into your mouth. bites your lip.

“god, i knew it,” she whispers. “you’ve wanted this. so smug all the time. acting like you didn’t look.”

“you’re one to talk,” you gasp as her mouth trails to your neck. “always acting like i’m annoying when you were dying to touch me.”

she grins against your skin. “maybe i like girls who piss me off.”

you flip her onto her back. grind against her thigh. she lets out a breathy laugh that turns into a moan.

“shut up,” you growl.

“make me,” she says, pulling you down again.

and you do.

the next morning, the bed’s a mess. limbs tangled. bruises blooming.

you wake up first. watch her sleep. her mouth parted slightly. her fingers still curled around your wrist like she didn’t want to let go.

you smile.

“still think i talk too much?” you whisper.

she opens one eye.

“only when your mouth’s not on me.”

you grin. “bitch.”

she pulls you in. kisses you slow.

“your bitch.”

you don’t argue this time.

thank u for reading, angel ♡

(〃^ー^〃) likes = sae-byeok being your bitch

♡ note: you're so sweet i'm gonna cry omds, i hope you enjoy this love <3

♡ tags: @eunchacha @ilovesawbyeokandjjmaybank @saeshairtie @gg0mezz @saphicsaturn @gyuyoungg @lyzem @janegrapefruitttt @reynadeluniverso @laylaheinz @laurenkenss @bleedingwhiteroses222 @maevelovessae

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