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The living room air is frigid with tension as two women stare at one another. Sitting high above on the sofa, Fuiro glared down at the other woman sitting below her. Hippi looked uncomfortable resting on the wooden floor, but they both knew the consequences if she even so tried to voice her complaints. It took a couple of times that involved stinging, red cheeks and tears for it to be ingrained into her mind, but she eventually learned her place, something Fuiro both praised and laughed at.
Dark pink eyes narrowed down at the pale woman, who seemed to flinch physically at her gaze alone, and when Fuiro opened her mouth, her tone spat venom. “Do you know why you’re in trouble?”
More than a dozen answers seemed to flash through those bright red eyes yet Hippi’s mouth kept shut. A part of Fuiro wanted to marvel at how the other woman’s face remained passive with only the subtle clench in her jaw hinting how she wanted to open up and bite back like a wild dog. They both knew she couldn’t; no permission to speak had been granted, after all.
Briefly smirking at the sight, her expression dropped back into one of annoyed boredom just as quickly. This entire conversation was almost a waste of her time. However, unforgivable mistakes shouldn’t go unpunished, after all. “I saw you talking to that other woman earlier today,” Fuiro started.
Red eyes stared at her, confused. Once again, that little twitch indicated how desperately the other woman wanted to speak. It almost made Fuiro want to coo mockingly with how all those lessons finally brought Hippi to where she was now. Compared to when she would misbehave, she used to gash her teeth and bite back to try and rip things to shreds.
It took so long for Hippi to finally mold into what she was meant to be. Much more docile, nearly perfectly obedient.. Yet that flame of wanting to fight in those red eyes was something Fuiro had yet to extinguish. One day, she will.
She continued. “What have I told you about talking to others without my permission? Especially ,” Fuiro hissed, leaning down, “with a woman I have never seen in my life. What do you have to say for yourself?” They were eye-level now, glaring at one another. If anyone were to see them, they would be compared as two wolves sizing one another up, preparing for the other’s attack.
As expected, Hippi broke first. Frowning, she asked, “Do you mean Flower?”
Fuiro raised a brow. “Oh, you talked to her enough to know her name?”
“She’s just a friend from high school!” The woman shot back in desperation.
“Sure, sure.” She rolled her eyes. “As if.”
“But-”
“Are you trying to talk back?”
Eyes widening as she realized her mistake, Hippi stammered, “No, I-”
Too late.
A harsh slap resounded off the walls of the living room.
The quietest of whimpers escaped Hippi’s lips as her cheek stung bright, but the woman was not quite done just yet.
Red eyes widened at the wooden stick Fuiro kept beside her this entire time meant for situations such as these. No matter how desperately Hippi tried to hide it, her fear would always seep through. Fuiro wanted to drink it up like an elixir.
"Know your place," she snarled. "You know what you have to do now."
Pride filled Fuiro’s chest as the other slowly turned until she was facing the opposite from her. The black shirt she was wearing was raised high to expose her entire backside, and Fuiro almost wanted to admire the pretty pale skin. She was about to make it even more beautiful.
"Remember now, darling," she said sternly. "Make any sound and you know what’ll happen next." Raising her stick high above her head, Fuiro smirked. Oh this was going to be delightful.
A smack.
A scream.
Another smack.
Another scream albeit strangled.
Again.
And again.
And again and again until-
…
Her arm lowered and Fuiro smiled. She was satisfied. (She nearly felt akin to a drummer after finishing a solo.)
She couldn’t help but admire her work - there were a myriad of bright reds that were sure to bloom prettily into bright purples against the pale of Hippi’s back. The shiny trail of tears running down the other woman’s pale cheeks that burned red. Fuiro felt like an artist creating artwork only her eyes were able to deem as a masterpiece meant to be displayed beyond just museums.
She preferred it that way; Hippi’s body was a canvas only Fuiro was allowed to paint endlessly until not an inch of space was left. Even then, she would repaint until she was satisfied; and Fuiro was not someone who could be easily so.
Hippi’s beautiful; it’s beautiful. No one’s eyes were allowed to admire such beauty, and Fuiro knew more than a few ways to keep it that way. She couldn’t wait to see the final product.
“You know how much I hate hurting you.” Her voice dropped into a hushed, guilty murmur. A pout was on her lips as she gently tucked the pretty yet tangled white hair behind Hippi’s ear. (She recalls a time when it was dyed red. The blood staining pure white was a beautiful sight to Fuiro, and she almost wished that the other could’ve kept it. Maybe another time.) Chapped lips pressed soft cheeks as Fuiro whispered, “I love you, angel.”
Those words felt interesting with the way they rolled off her tongue, tasting artificial, foreign, and genuine all at once. They had lost their meaning, purpose, and warmth long ago to her. The other woman didn’t respond, and she squeezed her wrist ever so slightly in warning.
Glancing up, Hippi blankly blinked as though she had been lost in thought. Fuiro almost sneered at the plastered smile the other bore. After all, they’ve been together for years now; she knew Hippi like the back of her hand more than the other woman realized.
How the corners of every smile directed towards Fuiro never seemed complete.
How the shine in her eyes dulled anytime she glanced Fuiro’s way.
How her body became the slightest bit tensed whenever Fuiro’s hand grazed her bare skin.
She loved it all.
The falsity of Hippi's smile was as clear as day yet it wasn’t as though she was going to point it out; in fact, Fuiro thrived off of it. She knew Hippi didn’t love her anymore, and that’s what made Fuiro love her even more.
She adored seeing the cute little front the woman tried so bravely to endure with every screaming match only for it to end with Hippi in endless tears and a red, runny nose.
It felt like Fuiro was gambling with herself; she wanted to see how many cracks it took until Hippi finally shattered.
Eventually, Hippi replied albeit not without a hint of reluctance. “I love you, too.”
(Bright red eyes glare. ‘You’re a fucking monster.’
Dark pink eyes sneer back. ‘I know.’)
Fuiro smiled before pressing a kiss that couldn’t exactly be called sweet to her lips. Vaguely, her tongue tingles with the delicious, coppery flavour. If Hippi was an angel, then Fuiro was the demon who would drag her down the depths of Hell.