#the last 30 minutes always makes me cry

[hyuuukais]

FUCK WAIT I JUST REALIZED I HAVEN'T REWATCHED DPS ALL YEAR ??????????????? HUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHH

[normieauaskblog]

Autistic meltdown

Yeah this is the post this week lol

Just a shitty doodle

Its just edd having an autistic meltdown because err hashtag relatable

[classyrbf]

SHE SAID IT'S HER FIRST TIME! — NANAMI KENTO

SYNOPSIS...older bf!nanami finds out he’s your first time and he intends to make it very special

INFO...older bf!nanami x virgin fem!reader, age gap (earlier 20s, early 30s), virginity loss, consent checks, praise, nipple sucking, fingering, pussy eating, penetration, slight blood, slight crying, creampie, nanami grows kinda feral, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Having Nanami as an older boyfriend was such a joy. The maturity, thoughtfulness, communication, love, commitment, and patience you received from him was more than you could have ever asked for. You were always so open with him, telling him everything and just being the annoying girl friend you were. But, there is one thing that you’ve kept hidden for the last six months of your relationship.

Every time things got heated between you Nanami while making out or getting handsy, you always backed out last minute telling him that you “weren’t ready” and he always understood and respected your boundaries. Though, you are ready. If you were to lose your virginity to anyone you’d want it to be your sweet loving boyfriend. But voices in the back of your head start to make you overthink, wonder if he’ll even want you anymore if you confess to him.

It isn’t until you’re here on his bed, hands tangled in his hair while kiss him slowly, passionately. His hands are roaming all over your body, still careful to be respectful. You’re pushing into him, smiling in between kisses. “Have I ever told you how much of an amazing kisser you are?” He chuckles, peppering kisses along your jawline.

A blissful sigh escapes your lips before you answer, “no.” You shake your head, his lips traveling lower down to your neck. Your bottom lip tucks between your teeth, enjoying the moment. His tongue glides along the skin of your neck, gently sucking and kissing, earning little whimpers from you as a reward. His hand grabs at your leg, hooking in over his waist as he pushes his hips into you.

Your breathing grows shallow, heart beating frantically against your ribcage. You gulp, feeling things grow more intense with each passing second before you push Nanami away. “I’m sorry, Kento, I just—”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand you want to take your time with this kind of thing.” He gently grabs your hand, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. His brows furrowed as he studies your features, eyes wandering every where else but into his. “What’s wrong, hm? You know you can talk to me,” he says in the most smooth voice, one that makes you wanna spill every secret. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. “Sweetheart?” He draws out the pet name, he knows something is on your mind.

“Ken, I feel bad for keeping this from you for so long, but,” you sigh, fidgeting with the hem of your t-shirt, “I’m a…virgin.” You finally look in his eyes, clenching your jaw. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire, ears ringing loudly it almost drowns out your heart beat.

His lips part, eyes widening at your words. Deafening silence falls upon you like a tidal wave and you feel the embarrassment rush in. “Fuck,” you whisper, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything I…I’m just gonna go.” You quickly scramble to your feet, grabbing your sweater from off of his bedroom floor. Maybe those voices in your head were right. Why would a man like Kento want anything to do with an inexperienced girl like you, compared to a woman who would know how to please him, give him a what he wants.

Just as you were about to walk out his bedroom, you feel a tug at your arm pulling you back until you hit his broad chest. “Where are you going?” He asked, looking at you. “I never said to leave, sweetheart.” He walks you back over to the bed, taking your sweater from your hands and placing it on the back of his chair. You sit on the edge of the bed, anxiously waiting for the next words to leave his mouth. Eyes follow his every movement, watching the way he walks over to you and kneels down in front you, grabbing your hands in his. “Look at me.” And you do, eventually, meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

You find it hard to speak, to even get a peep out. Nerves are shot and it feels like your stomach is twisting in knots. “I just thought that—”

“That I’d be upset you’re a virgin?” He asked, putting it all out there. You nodded your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “Sweetheart,” he chuckles, flashing a smile at you, “you’re too cute for your own good.” He caresses your cheek. “No wonder you’ve been so nervous each time we’ve made out.” He licks his lips, taking a deep breath in before speaking again, “listen, we don’t have to rush into anything. You should’ve just told me, but I understand your feelings.”

You blink a couple of times, your heart rate finally drops, feeling more comfortable with the situation. It felt like a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders, and even more importantly, you were glad Nanami took it so well. “But, I am ready.” You look away from him.

“What?” His brows furrowed, confusion written on his face.

“I’ve been ready, just been scared, nervous…I don’t know.” You shrug, your voice getting quieter with each word you say.

His hand comes up to your cheek, gently cupping it as he directs your gaze back towards him for the millionth time. “Are you asking me to be your first?” He asks in such a gentle tone, eyes carrying a look of adoration in them. Sheepishly, you nod.

“Always wanted it to be you, Ken. You’re so kind to me, and so patient,” you admit.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, “I’d love nothing more than to be your first.” He kisses the top of your hand, soft lip pressing against your skin as he stares into your eyes. “We’ll go at your pace, yeah?” He smirks.

Everything in you is telling you to pounce on this man and go at it like animals with how he was treating you. It only made him a hundred more times attractive than he already was. Your lips find his as you both fall back onto the bed, resuming the make out session from minutes ago, only this time it’ll actually lead somewhere. The kisses felt more feverish, more passionate, something that’d you been craving this entire time.

“Can I take your clothes off?” He asked, placing a kiss to your jaw. “I’ll take mine off too.”

“Yeah.” You nod, feeling his hands tug at the hem of your shirt. The fabric slipped over your head, your first instinct was to cover your chest, feeling completely vulnerable in this position. His hands carefully undid your pants, pulling them down along with your panties, discarding the items of clothing on the wood floor. You covered yourself up, shutting your legs and holding your chest.

As you watched him get undressed, your eyes landed upon the obvious tent in his shorts, leaving you turned on. His body seemed liked it was carved from the gods, toned biceps, shredded six pack. He looked like he could just easily toss you around, put in whatever position he wanted. Not to mention, you could see how big he was through his boxers, your nerves starting to wrack up again as you began to wonder if it’d even fit. And once he pulled them down, your eyes widened and worry flooded your face.

Nanami let out a light laugh at the look on your face. “What’s the matter?” He asked, rubbing his hands over your thighs.

“Do you think it’ll fit? It’s just…really big, Ken.” Your eyes couldn’t help but wander. He was thick, and slightly long, which is reasonable excuse for your worry.

“It might hurt a little, sweetheart, but that’s why I need to prepare you, yeah? Make it feel good for my sweet girl. Now, don’t hide yourself from me, okay? I wanna see all of you, praise all of you.” He leaned over, kissing your lips again, trailing down further with each one. His hands replaced yours, gently groping your tits, squeezing them in his hands. “Such soft and pretty tits.” He kissed each one. “Can I suck on them? I promise you it’ll feel good.”

Once he gets your approval, he wastes no time, his lips latching onto your hard nipple, hot tongue swirling around the bud. His eyes fluttered shut, a muffled moan escaping his lips. Your hands find themselves in his hair, little pants and whimpers leaving your lips at the foreign sensation. His other hand pulls at your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he gets lost in thought. He pulls his head up, hazy eyes staring back at you. “Doing okay, baby?” He asks.

“Yes, please keep going.” You bite down on your bottom lip, earning a smile from his as he moves over to your other nipple, tip of his tongue circling over the sensitive skin before taking it in his mouth, suckling on it. “Mmm, Ken,” you whimper, tugging at his hair.

“Feeling good?” He places kisses all over your tits, his touches so gentle. You buck your hips up towards him, grinding against him. “I’ll take that as a yes. You’re feeling needy, aren’t you, baby? Go on, you can tell me.” The flat of his tongue lays against your nipple again, slowly licking, teasing you.

You bring your hand up to your face, covering it, too embarrassed to look at him, to let him hear you. But with each flick of his tongue more whimpers spill out of you, overflowing. His warm lips press kisses to your sternum, traveling down towards your stomach, getting lower and lower until you jolt up. “What…what are you doing?” You ask, dumbly. It was clear what his intentions were with his mouth just inches away from your cunt.

“Just sit back and relax.” He caresses your side. “Open up for me, wanna get a taste,” he murmurs. He gently pushes your thighs open, scooting lower on the bed. His mouth slightly parts, eyes gravitating towards your wet cunt. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re already so wet,” he chuckles, looking up at you. He rests his head against your thighs, lips kissing your skin, worshipping you, savoring you. He plans to tease you as much as possible, he wants you ready.

You body twitches when you feel his fingers ghost over your throbbing cunt, light touches making you yearn for something you’ve never even had before. He kisses down your thighs and towards your pussy, pausing when he finally reaches. He looks up at you for approval and when you scoot your hips closer towards him with the cutest whimper, he dips his head down between your legs and presses the slowest kisses on your clit. The way you gasp makes him smirk, he wonders how you’ll sound when he uses his tongue.

Finally, you feel the flat of his hot tongue dip between your soaked folds, pushing its way up your slit and finding your clit. You sit up on your elbows, brows furrowing in pleasure as Nanami wraps your his arms around your thighs, holding your hips in place. He moans against you, pulling you closer towards him as he starves for more of your taste.

He flicks his tongue across your clit, his chin coated in your juices before he moves his tongue lower, tongue fucking you. You bite down on your plump lower lip, quietly moaning while your eyes watch his every movement, like you were studying him. His tongue slithers back to your clit, circling it before he gently sucks on it. “Hah, fuck,” you gasp, your hand instinctively reaching for his blonde locks of hair.

He lifts his head, licking his lips to not waste any drop of you. “Hey, pretty girl, can we try something?” His voice is gentle, a sense of security in it. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” The pad of his thumb rubs your clit in circles, his other hand caresses your thigh. “Wanna try fingering you while I eat this pretty pussy, get you ready for me,” he explains.

You gulp, nervously looking down at his hands. “Will it hurt as much?” You ask.

“Might hurt a little, but it’ll help. I’ll make you feel good, baby. I never wanna hurt you.” He sits up, moving closer towards you.

You nod slowly, “okay,” you meekly say. Nanami, wraps his arms around your waist, hoisting your leg around him as you both lay on your sides.

“You ready?” He asks, kissing your cheek, his fingers rubbing your slick over your entrance and back over your clit, trying to get you prepared. “Just gonna do one finger for now until you want more,” he whispers into your ear. Slowly, he slides his thick digit into your entrance and you immediately let out a pained sigh. He removes his finger, pressing another kiss to you cheek. “Take your time, baby. You’re okay. Hold on to me if it gets too much.” He continues rubbing your clit in slow circles until you give him the nod of approval to try again.

He pushes his finger past your folds, feeling your walls clench around him as he goes inch by inch. “Mmm.” Your eyes screw shut as you cling onto his broad shoulders, feeling the sting of the stretch. He finally gets it all the way through and you’re panting, clawing at his skin.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he reassures. “Hey, look at me,” he grabs your face in his direction, “it’s okay.” He kisses your lips as you whimper against his. “I’m gonna start moving my hand now.” You hold onto him tighter, the burn making you wince as he pulls his hand back and pushes his finger back in, slightly gaining in speed.

You can’t seem to look away from him, melting into his touch as the pain slowly turned to pleasure, feeling your body accept him just like you wanted this entire time. He presses his forehead against yours, bodies pressed up against one another as you fight back the urge to kiss him until you’re breathless. Your hips rock into his hand, following his movements. “Want more,” you whimper, nodding at him.

“Want more, pretty? Yeah?” He pecks your lips, carefully sliding his ring finger into your entrance. You whine at the stretch, taking in a deep breath when you feel his fingers curl up, repeatedly hitting your g-spot. Your cunt squelches around his fingers, sucking them in. “You’re doing such a good job,” he whispers, working fingers faster until you’re a moaning mess.

Wet kisses make their way down your neck, moving lower down to your chest as he repositions himself at the end up of the bed, fingers still curling inside you. He pushes one of your legs back, eyes intently watching the way your pussy takes his fingers so well. Without warning, the flat of his tongue presses down your swollen clit. “Oh fuck!” You gasp, gripping at the sheets below you. Your body shivers with pleasure, the sensation of his tongue and fingers sending you to cloud nine.

Your head falls back on the pillow, eyes rolling back, legs threatening to close around his head. He slurps your pussy, tongue working its way through your folds to get every last drop. He’s moaning at your taste, breathing heavily through his nose. His hand pushes your leg back farther, nearly up to your chest, as he works hard to drive that orgasm out of you. “Ah! Oh my gosh!” You cry out, clutching at his hair, pushing his head down when he sucks on your sensitive clit once more. “Ken, baby, I think—fuck!” You squeal, rocking your hips on his face. Your legs close around his head as your orgasm arrives, body quivering, and every touch is heightened. That doesn’t stop Nanami, low eyes watching how prettily your back arches off the bed, your walls squeezing his fingers. “Hah! Ah! Yes!” You moan.

Nanami finally lifts his head, chest heaving up and down as he looks at you with the most love in his eyes. “Fuck, baby, you did so good. Come here.” He rushes to plant his lips on yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His dick is throbbing, oozing pre from the tip just from watching you cum. “You alright?” He asks, petting your cheek.

“I’m okay.” You nod. “Thank you.” The sweetest smile spreads across your face, one that makes his chest fill with warmth. “But, I think I’m finally ready.” You look down towards where you two meet, only inches away from one another.

“You sure? We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I want you to be comfortable,” he says softly.

“I promise I am. Just…go slow,” anxiousness riddled your tone.

“Of course. Let me know at any time if you wanna stop.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. The nerves build in your chest, and your stomach fills with butterflies. He repositions his hips, rubbing his length through your folds, smearing his precum. He lightly groans, slowly moving up and down, nudging your clit with each thrust. Nanami notices you watching, he can see you’re still nervous. “Baby, look at me, okay. It’s gonna be fine.” He gently grabs your face, staring into your eyes before his fat tip pushes its way through your folds. Your eyebrows raise in surprise before furrowing. He goes as slow as possible before removing himself, letting you take a breather.

You spread your legs further before another attempt, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pushes into you again, inch by inch you feel the stretch, the stinging sensation making you grit your teeth. “Ah!” You bury your face in his neck, when you feel his hips finally meet with yours.

Tears fall down your cheeks, and he’s quick to kiss them away. “I know it hurts, sweetheart. Let’s stay like this for a minute.” He wipes your tears, massaging your thighs as you try to accustom to his size. “Gonna start moving now.” He pulls his hips back, his length coated in a mix of your juices and slight blood. “Oh, your bleeding baby.” He looks at you with the most empathetic expression.

“Mmmph, sorry, I’m sorry.” A wave of embarrassment washes over you as it came to mind that it was most likely on his sheets.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s completely normal.” He kisses your lips as he pushes his hips against your again, the head of his cock grazing over a sweet spot deep inside you that you didn’t even know existed. “I’m so proud of you, you know that?Hah, my sweet, sweet girl—fuck,” he breathily chuckles. And now he’s moving faster, wrapping your legs around his waist, clinging onto him like you never want to let go. “So fucking tight,” he grunts.

You feel so full of him, like he was made for you. His dick dragging along your walls, his hands holding you close, wrapping around you as he whispers praises in your ear in the most sweetest voice. Your eyes roll back, nails leaving marks on his skin, your toes pointed. He’s fucking you into the mattress, but being oh so gentle about it. “It feels so good,” you mewl as he fucks you deep, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust.

“This pussy was made for me baby—oh shit—taking me so fucking well. You feel so fucking good,” he moans. He presses into you, each thrust sending your mind spiraling as shivers run down your spine, your body covered in sweat. Nanami squeezes you tightly, kissing your neck, and nibbling at the skin.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” It feels like your breath is being sucked out of you, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. “Gonna cum!” You cry out. “Hah—yes, yes!” He keeps the same rhythm, tip of his dick kissing your cervix before your shaking under him.

He holds you tightly, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as you cum around his dick. Your hands cup his face, searching his eyes. “That’s my girl, let it all out,” he says. He can feel you clenching down on him, the feeling making his dick throb harder. “Always be my good girl, right baby?” He asks. And all you can do is nod, when he starts fucking you faster, almost like he’s grown feral. “It’s good that you know because I’m about to fuck you like you aren’t.” He pushes your knees to your chest, lifting your hips slightly so that he reaches the deepest parts of you. “Nngh, fuck!” He grunts.

“Ken! Oh fuck, fuck!” You squeeze your eyes shut, the bed rocking and creaking with each other his hard thrusts. A hand clasps over your mouth in a weak attempt to muffle your screams of pleasure.

“Pussy feels so good, sweetheart. Can’t get enough—fuck—I’m sorry,” he heavily pants. Strands of blonde hair cling to his forehead, eyes fixated on watching his dick disappears in and out of you, your pussy creaming around him, leaving a white ring around the base. He can feel you clenching down on him again, your nails leaving crescent marks in his forearms as you’re cumming for a third time tonight, barely able to form words. “Atta girl. Look so pretty cumming on my cock,” he smirks.

Your back arches into him, legs quivering as he thrusts grow sloppier and sloppier. “Nnngh, shit,” he moans. “Gonna make me cum—ah!” His brows furrow as he fucks you harder, a primal feeling rises in him as he thinks of cumming inside of you for the first time ever. “Baby,” he says with desperation, “baby, let me cum inside you.” A rosy red spreads across his cheeks as he stares into your eyes.

Your arms reach out to him, dragging him down for kiss, legs locking around his waist as you push him closer to you. Nanami groans into the kiss and you swallow every last one as his seed fills you up, coating your walls. He slowly fucks you, making sure to get every last drop of his cum in you before pulling out.

“Oh my god, sweetheart,” he chuckles, a glint in his eyes. You laugh with him before he rolls both of you over, you now on top of him. He caresses your cheek and you melt into his hand, a blissful sigh leaving your lips. “You did absolutely amazing.” He smiles. “You doing okay, though?” He wonders, fingertips tracing patters on the small of your back.

“Yeah,” you nod, closing your eyes shut, “I’m doing great actually.” You smile. You rest your head on his chest. “Thank you, Ken.”

“No, thank you. I’m glad that you trusted me to be your first, honestly. It means a lot to me.” He kisses the crown of your head. “You’ll always be my girl.” He continues tracing your skin.

“Really?” You ask, lifting your head to look at him. “Promise me?” You pout, batting your lashes.

“I promise.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, his thumb rubbing over your bottom lips before you press a kiss to it. He chuckles at the small gesture. “Let’s get in the shower, together, yeah? Maybe order some food? You deserve it.”

[solmire]

Cockslut!reader is always beside Satoru.

He is the one, who is trying to hide from you, from your filthy mouth and a little pussy which doesn’t know how to stop and always eager to feel his cum deep inside.

You don’t know how to keep your hands away from such a piece of art. If he were a lollipop you would suck and lick him like it is the last thing you could do before dying.

It’s really funny, that you still suck him off like you are gonna die in a minute and the last thing you would like to feel is his cum on your tongue with a mushroom heavy tip in your mouth.

“H-honey, please… I am empty, I can’t do-ahh-this an-nymore” Satoru was holding the edge of the table for dear life. He is going to cum for a fourth time in a row, and all you did was deepthroating his thick cock for 30 minutes.

“Baby, stop lying” you pull out his cock with a pop sound, your pupils are too dilated, too thirsty for his cock, signaling Satoru that he is not gonna make it alive. The mix of rosy cheeks and plump lips on your face was too much to handle for a poor man especially when he sees how you grope your tits with a free hand, meanwhile the right one was tightly squeezing his balls, making him cry out loud. “I knooow, that these breeding balls are full of semen and just for me”.

“No-no, i-it hurts” he is literally whimpering and pleading you to stop this torture, but the way he grabs your face with his two palms and starts roughly fuck your face tell you the opposite.

Oohhh, you love when he is turning to an animal with the only ability - fuck your face like a pocket pussy. You are not his love of his life anymore, just a stupid face to fuck and a tummy to fill with his cum.

But, is it really the problem?? You are just a loving wife, who is always ready to fulfill a marital duty.

[lay-z]

ᥫ᭡ Most fun to edge from most to least ⨯ 141 Edition (18+)

Johnny—Absolute brat behavior. Deserves to be edged for days when returning from a deployment only to have his fat prick put in a pink cock cage in between edging sessions. He needs it to come (literally) back to his senses before he can even function right. Very whimpery and whiny. Make sure to put down sex towels (plural), because this man leaks copious amounts of pre. Longest he lasted before mewling his safe word and begging you to let him come was eight days. He's very determined to break that streak.

Simon—Took him a while to realize how into it he actually is. This man, who's usually so eerily quiet during sex (except for the occasional grunt or groan when he first slides in), becomes an absolute whore when you edge him for longer than 30 minutes. Moaning, keening, whimpering. Serves a whole new palette of sounds to you. Watch this absolute unit of a man crumble while you sit between his trembling thighs, stroking his big cock with two hands; ghostly skin sticky with sweat and musk, tip drooling milky pre down your knuckles. He's also the cutest to ask for a session—comes crawling into your lap and flutters his pale lashes up at you with a prominent tent in his pants.

Price—The old man doesn't believe in edging, doesn't see the appeal of it until you make him. Prefers his sex to be old-fashioned and vanilla, actually, but whenever he tells you he's tired, it's code for please take care of me, lovely—so you do. And each time, you have to tie his wrists up to the headboard to really make him submit to you, before you get to edge him good. Doesn't last long before he half demands/half begs you to let him come. It's always a treat, but a rare one.

Kyle—Man's an interrogations and negotiations specialist. One of his hobbies is actively pissing you off until you're laugh-crying—but in a fun way, not a toxic one. Kyle is also the most dominant one of the pack, so he prefers to be in control. Once every full moon, he will let you have your fun for a while, but only because he loves to turn the tables and talk you into caving in, uttering the most delicious filth in that slightly breathless, sexy voice of his—until you end up being the one edged to tears.

[hitomisuzuya]

drunk love sick/slightly smutty voicemails. fluffy fluff fluff. smut. needy scara.

scaramouche loathes whenever he can't be with you. a class trip has, in his humble opinion, unfairly taken you from him. he tried to go, even going as far as to try and transfer into your class last minute, and paying for your trip and his. however, life decided to, again in his humble opinion, kick him in the balls. he couldn't go.

he wasn't going to stop you from going though.

by 7:30pm, the first very drunk voicemail comes. "hey, it's 7:30. i am at party with xiao. that show we always watch on thursdays just got over. even though i am at a party, i got my fucking phone out and watched it. it was like we were watching it together."

the second comes about 15 minutes later. his speech sounds slightly more slurred than it was before. "hey, i stepped outside for a breather. i miss you, why aren't you here.." a rustling sound is suddenly heard before you hear him say, "shit, i dropped my phone."

a few minutes later, another voice message follows. "you didn't hear that happen. you know, i wish you were here. sitting next to me, tucked right here safely under my arm. we could look up at those stars you always wax on about how pretty they are. i always agree with you, but truthfully, i am not looking at the fucking stars when i say that. i am looking at you."

the next one comes in about 20 minutes later. he is slurring almost every word now. "fuck your class trip. this party is boring because you aren't here. whenever things got boring, i could always put you in my lap, and make out with you until my dick got too hard."

"remember the last class trip we went on. we snuck off back to my hotel room at lunchtime. you rode my cock all afternoon. i am sure housekeeping cleaning up many rooms down could hear you begging to lick to my cock clean after i cum inside you-"

the voicemail cut off, it must've gotten too long. there is a deep blush on your cheeks after listening to that one.

in short succession, much like the previous ones, another voicemail came. "i got the perfect punishment for you when you get back. i saw this collar that would look so pretty around your neck. i'll lay your head in my lap, hold onto the leash and make you play with that little pussy. finger yourself into a wet mess while you cry about how much you missed me and how much you want me to fuck you. shit, i am getting hard. this is probably too lon-"

an hour later, another one comes. "hey, when you are alone tonight, just send me one video. please. i need something. a video of you playing with your nipples, moaning my name like a slut while you fuck a vibrator inside you. i need you."

after what you assume was him taking another breather, and probably topping off his drink, the final voicemail comes in. "i can't wait for you to get back. you are staying with me in my dorm. i can't fucking stand being away from you. anytime is too long."

these all came on the bus ride there when you were in an area with very poor cell phone reception. the class trip is only for four days.

[ceeaann]

Guess your stuck with me..

Pairing - Troublemaker!Jinx x Academic Achiever!Reader Summary -  You’re an academic achiever—sharp, disciplined, and determined to stay on top. Jinx is a reckless, unpredictable troublemaker who barely shows up to class. When the professor pairs you together for a presentation, it feels like a nightmare. She doesn’t help, doesn’t care, and somehow always gets under your skin. But between late nights, frayed nerves, and unexpected moments, you start realizing—maybe she’s not just a distraction after all. Content - 11.5k words, collab with @kkoga !! Slow-burn, Enemies-to-Lovers, Academic rivalry, forced partnership, bickering, tension, Academic stress, burnout, mild angst, brief crying scene, Jinx being an absolute menace, mutual pining, and one very unexpected but very needed kiss. Ends on a happy note!

Your name carried weight on campus.

Not in the way a socialite’s name did, or a legacy student’s, or even a student-athlete’s. No, your reputation was built on something far more lethal—academic dominance.

Summa cum laude in the making.

Top of every class.

Winner of multiple national competitions.

Professors used your essays as the example.

People didn’t just respect you. They feared you

You had single-handedly torpedoed GPAs when professors started grading on a curve. People scrambled to be in your group for projects, knowing you’d carry them to an A (you didn’t let them, obviously). You didn’t have time for slackers, and you especially didn’t have time for people who thought coasting through college was an option.

Which was why, when your professor announced the groups for your upcoming project, you expected to be placed with someone competent.

The sound of shuffling papers and quiet murmurs filled the lecture hall as your Professor adjusted his glasses, scanning the list in his hands with a practiced, impartial expression. You sat near the front, back straight, pen poised, waiting for the inevitable announcement of the semester’s biggest source of misery—group projects.

Your fingers tapped against your notebook as names were read, barely listening—until you heard yours.

And then—

"Jinx."

Your entire body tensed.

No. No, no, no. There had to be some mistake.

Slowly, you turned your head. Across the room, feet propped up on the chair in front of her, sat Jinx—headphones around her neck, chewing on a pen cap like it owed her money. She didn’t even look up, just gave an exaggerated yawn and cracked her knuckles.

The girl who skipped half her classes. The girl who turned in blank assignments. The girl who, last semester, set a toaster on fire in the dorm kitchen and called it "a science experiment."

You clenched your jaw.

"Groups will work together on a thirty-minute presentation due at the end of the month," he continued, oblivious to your silent suffering. "This will be worth 30% of your final grade. I expect collaboration."

Jinx glanced at you lazily, then grinned. "Guess you're stuck with me,nerd."

You exhaled sharply, gripping your pen tight enough to snap.

This was going to be a disaster.

You considered your options.

Beg the professor for a group change. (Humiliating, undignified.)

Carry the entire project yourself. (Tiring, inevitable.)

Force Jinx to be useful. (Impossible.)

Yeah. You were screwed.

As class ended, you gathered your things with the speed and precision of someone preparing for battle. You weren’t going to let Jinx coast through this and leech off your grade. No, you were going to establish rules, schedules, expectations—

A crumpled piece of paper hit your shoulder.

You turned, already seething.

Jinx stood a few feet away, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Hey, partner," she drawled. "Wanna do all the work for me, or should I pretend to help?"

Your eye twitched.

"Neither." You leveled her with a cold stare. "We’re meeting in the library tomorrow. Be there at noon."

Jinx mock-gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. "Noon? That’s, like, peak nap time."

You did not have the patience for this.

"Show up," you snapped, "or I will make sure the professor knows exactly how much effort you’re putting in."

Jinx smirked, tilting her head. "Oh, scary. What are you gonna do, write a strongly worded email?" You gritted your teeth. "Yes. And CC the entire department." Jinx let out a bark of laughter. "Damn, you really are serious about this nerd stuff, huh?"

"It's called having standards."

Jinx leaned in, eyes glinting with amusement. "It's called being a control freak." Your fingers curled around the strap of your bag. This was going to be a long, long project.

-

The next day, you arrived at the library at exactly noon. Jinx did not.

At 12:15, you tapped your pen against your notebook.

At 12:30, you checked your watch.

At 12:45, you debated homicide.

Then, at 12:57, Jinx finally strolled in, looking like she just rolled out of bed—because she probably had. She plopped into the chair across from you, legs kicked up on the table. "Chill, bookworm, I’m here."

You inhaled sharply through your nose. "You’re fifty-seven minutes late."

"Only 'cause I got distracted," she said, waving a hand. "Saw this really cool bird outside. Had blue feathers. Kinda reminded me of—oh wait, no, that was just a plastic bag."

You just stared at her.

Jinx grinned. "So, what’s the plan, boss?"

Oh, you were going to lose your mind.

You took a slow, measured breath. It didn’t help.

"The plan," you said through clenched teeth, "was to start working an hour ago."

Jinx shrugged. "Yeah, well, time’s fake. Anyway, what’s the topic again?"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "You don’t even know the topic?"

She stretched her arms behind her head. "Look, I was too busy living in the moment to check the syllabus. Enlighten me, O Wise One."

You resisted the urge to throw your notebook at her.

"We're analyzing historical revolutions and their economic impact," you said, voice dangerously tight. "Which means research. Structure. Actual effort."

Jinx gave you a slow, amused look. "God, you sound fun at parties."

"I am fun at parties," you snapped. "Academic parties. Where people actually care about learning instead of setting things on fire."

"One time," Jinx muttered, rolling her eyes. "That toaster thing was one time." You ignored her. "We need to divide the work. Since you refuse to function like a normal student, I'll handle the primary research and outline the key points."

Jinx propped her chin on her hand. "Sweet. What do I do?"

"You," you said, narrowing your eyes, "are going to actually contribute." Jinx let out a low whistle. "Wow, setting high expectations for me. Dangerous move, nerd."

You exhaled sharply, flipping open your laptop. "You can start by reading the sources I compiled. Then we’ll discuss how to divide the sections for the presentation." Jinx yawned, cracking her neck. "Sounds so exciting." "It's more exciting than failing," you shot back. Jinx smirked. "You really think I care about failing?"

You studied her. She said it like a joke, but there was something about the way she said it—offhand, too casual, like she had already accepted it as inevitable.

You pushed the thought aside. You weren’t here to psychoanalyze her. You were here to make sure she didn’t singlehandedly tank your grade.

"Just read," you said, turning your laptop toward her. Jinx sighed dramatically but took the laptop. "Fine, fine, don’t get your nerd glasses in a twist." You did, in fact, wear glasses sometimes, but that was beside the point.

For the next ten minutes, there was silence. You focused on your own research, occasionally side-eyeing Jinx, fully expecting her to start doodling in the margins or spinning in her chair instead of reading.

But she wasn’t.

She was staring at the screen, brows furrowed, actually reading.

You blinked.

Huh.

Maybe—just maybe—this wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

Then Jinx leaned back, stretching with a loud groan. "Alright, I read, like, five paragraphs. Can I go now?"

Never mind. It was going to be a complete disaster.

"Five paragraphs?" you repeated, deadpan. "That's the best you can do?" Jinx shrugged. "Technically, I read six. But that last one was boring as hell, so I stopped paying attention halfway through." You inhaled sharply. "You—" No. You weren’t going to waste your breath. "You know what? Fine. Since reading is so difficult for you, let's try something simpler. Just tell me what you learned." Jinx hummed, tapping a finger against her chin. "Alright, so—uh—something about, like… taxes? And people being mad about… bread?"

You just stared at her.

Jinx beamed. "Nailed it, didn’t I?" You resisted the urge to slam your head against the table. "The French Revolution," you said slowly, "was not just about bread."

"Are you sure?" Jinx leaned back in her chair, balancing on two legs. "I mean, ‘Let them eat cake’ is, like, the only thing people remember from it."

"Oh my God, you are so—" You cut yourself off, pressing your fingers against your temples. "We are so behind schedule because of you."

Jinx smirked. "Correction: you are behind schedule. I never had one to begin with."  You shot her a glare that could have burned a hole through solid steel. "This is worth thirty percent of our grade. Thirty. Percent. That is literally the difference between passing and failing. Do you even care about that?" Jinx didn’t answer right away. For a second—just a second—something flickered in her eyes. But then she shrugged, that same careless grin creeping back onto her face. "Eh. I like to keep things exciting."

"Failing is not exciting!"

"That’s what you think," Jinx said, crossing her arms behind her head. "But I think it’s kinda fun watching you freak out."

You wanted to strangle her.

No. You wanted to graduate, which meant getting through this project without committing a felony. You took a deep breath. "Fine," you said through gritted teeth. "If you're going to be useless, then at least sit there and let me work in peace." Jinx gasped dramatically. "Useless? Ouch, nerd, right in the heart."

"You don’t have a heart."

Jinx clutched her chest like she’d been mortally wounded. "Wow, just gutting me today, huh?"

"Just sit there quietly," you muttered, turning back to your notes.

Surprisingly, Jinx did. For a whole five minutes. Then she started messing with your pens. Then your notebook. Then your hair. You slapped her hand away. "What are you doing?" "You're so tense," Jinx said, chin propped on one hand, watching you like she was studying a particularly interesting lab rat. "Like, seriously, do you ever relax?"

"Not when I have leeches for group members." Jinx laughed. "Come on, don’t you ever just… do something fun?" "This is fun," you snapped. Jinx’s grin widened. "Oh, you are tragic." You scowled. "Just—shut up and let me work." Jinx leaned in, smirking. "Make me."

Your brain short-circuited for a second.

The way she said it—low, teasing—was infuriating. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, but you refused to let her win.

You exhaled sharply. "You're insufferable."

Jinx winked. "And yet, you're stuck with me."

You were going to lose your mind before this project was over.

-

You had never dreaded a conversation more.

The next morning, you sat in the professor’s office, hands neatly folded in your lap, trying to compose yourself. The office smelled of old books and ink, a familiar scent that usually brought you comfort. But today, it did nothing to ease the tension knotted in your shoulders. Your professor peered at you over his spectacles, waiting expectantly.

You took a breath. "I need a new partner."

He hummed, flipping through a stack of papers. "Let me guess. Jinx?"

You stiffened. "...Yes."

Your professor sighed, setting his pen down. "I assume she hasn’t contributed anything."

"Nothing," you confirmed, frustration creeping into your voice. "She barely even acknowledges the project exists. I don’t even know if she understands the topic, let alone if she’s capable of actually helping."

"She is," he said simply.

You frowned. "What?"

Your professor leaned back in his chair. "Jinx is… difficult. But not incapable. She has a sharp mind—when she applies it."

You weren’t sure if you believed that. "Then why hasn’t she applied it to this?" He offered a knowing smile. "Perhaps that’s a question you should ask her." You exhaled sharply. "Professor, I don’t have time for games. I have competitions, exams, and an academic reputation to uphold. If I fail this project because of her—"

"You won’t fail," he assured you. "But you won’t be getting a new partner, either."

You stared at him. "You can’t be serious."

"Entirely," he said. "Consider it a different kind of learning experience."

You clenched your jaw. "What am I supposed to learn from a partner who doesn’t do anything?"

He smiled faintly. "Maybe that’s up to you to figure out." You swallowed the sharp response on your tongue. This was going nowhere. So, you left his office feeling just as frustrated as when you arrived.

And now, you had no choice but to track down Jinx yourself.

-

The campus café was as loud and crowded as ever. You navigated through groups of students, scanning the area for your headache of a partner.

It wasn’t hard to spot her.

Jinx was sprawled out at one of the outdoor tables, legs kicked up onto a chair, idly flipping a coin between her fingers. Her blue hair was a tangled mess, and her jacket looked like she hadn’t washed it in a week. A coffee cup sat beside her—mostly empty, aside from the mountain of sugar packets she had clearly torn open and dumped inside.

You took a steadying breath and approached.

She noticed you immediately.

"Well, well, well," she drawled, catching the coin mid-air with a smirk. "If it isn’t Miss Perfect. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You pulled out the chair across from her, ignoring her tone. "We need to talk."

Jinx whistled lowly. "Damn. Straight to business? No hello, no wow, Jinx, you look amazing today?"

You folded your arms. "We have a deadline coming up. You haven’t done anything."

Jinx leaned back, grinning. "Guilty as charged." You clenched your jaw. "Do you even care about this project?" Jinx hummed, tapping a finger against the table. "Depends." You narrowed your eyes. "On what?" She shrugged, still grinning like this was all a joke. "What’s in it for me?"

You inhaled slowly, resisting the urge to strangle her. "A passing grade." Jinx snickered. "Boooring." Your patience was hanging by a thread. "I don’t have time for this. Either do your part, or—" "Or what?" Jinx interrupted, tilting her head. "You gonna write a strongly worded letter to the professor?"

You exhaled sharply, forcing down your irritation. "I already spoke to him." Jinx raised a brow. "And?"

"He refused to reassign me."

Jinx barked out a laugh. "Damn. Sucks to be you, huh?" You ignored her, leaning forward. "Why are you even here if you’re not going to contribute?"

For a brief second, something flickered in her expression.

But then, just as quickly, she smirked again. "Dunno. Maybe I like pissing you off." Your eye twitched. "You—" "Relax, teach," she drawled, standing up and stretching. "You’ll get your little project done. Eventually."

Your blood boiled. "That’s not good enough." Jinx winked. "Too bad." And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving you seething.

You hated her. You hated how she got under your skin. And most of all…

You hated that she wasn’t stupid.

She was hiding something. And you were going to figure out what.

You were going to lose your mind.

After your conversation with Jinx, you had done what any rational, academically responsible person would do: you finished the entire outline yourself.

By the time the sun had set, you were sitting in your dorm, surrounded by neatly labeled notes, highlighted textbooks, and a fully structured presentation plan. All of it—every argument, every example, every supporting point—meticulously crafted.

And Jinx?

She hadn’t even glanced at it. You stared at your phone, rereading the text you had sent her:

You: I finished the outline. Read it before tomorrow’s meeting.

She had seen it. Read the message hours ago. No response. No acknowledgment.

Typical.

You clenched your jaw, dropping your phone onto your desk. If she wasn’t going to put in the effort, then you’d just carry this project alone.

You had done harder things before. The next morning, you walked into the library study room ten minutes early, ready to work. Jinx walked in twenty minutes late, looking like she had just rolled out of bed.

"Morning, sunshine," she drawled, flopping into the chair across from you. You didn’t even look up. "You’re late." Jinx yawned, stretching. "Yeah, yeah. Time’s just a concept, anyway." You clenched your pen. "Did you read the outline?" Jinx smirked. "What do you think?"

Your eye twitched.

"Of course you didn’t," you muttered, shoving the paper toward her. "Read it. Now." Jinx leaned forward, elbows on the table, scanning the pages with mild interest. She tilted her head, flipping through the structured sections you had painstakingly organized.

"Huh," she mused, tapping the paper. "This is… a lot."

"It’s called being prepared," you snapped.

"It’s called being a control freak," she shot back, grinning.

Your patience was wearing thin. "Jinx, we are running out of time. This project isn’t going to do itself—" "Relax," she said, waving a hand. "You already did all the work, anyway."

That—

That set something off in you.

"You think this is funny?" you snapped, slamming your pen down. "This isn’t a joke. I don’t have the luxury of slacking off like you do." Jinx raised a brow, amusement flickering into something else. "You don’t know a damn thing about me, sweetheart."

"I know you don’t take this seriously," you shot back. "You show up late, you ignore my messages, and you haven’t contributed a single thing. And now you want me to just—just carry you through this?"

Jinx was silent for a beat.

Then, she grinned.

"You’re kinda hot when you’re mad, y’know that?"

Your brain short-circuited.

"Wh—" You gaped at her. "What is wrong with you?!"

Jinx cackled. "So many things, babe." You inhaled sharply, forcing down the irritation boiling under your skin. This was getting nowhere. "Look," you said through clenched teeth. "I need to know if you’re actually going to help with this. Yes or no."

Jinx hummed, rocking back in her chair. "Mmm… Maybe.*"

You were going to scream.

"Jinx—"

"Fine, fine," she interrupted, holding up her hands. "I’ll actually do something."

"Swear it."

She smirked. "Cross my heart."

You weren’t sure if you believed her.

But for now, you had no other choice.

You were going to lose your mind.

No, seriously.

After that infuriating conversation with Jinx, you had spent another hour trying to get her to focus, but she had dodged every attempt. She either deflected with some dumb joke, changed the subject, or—worse—just stared at you like she was enjoying your suffering.

And now?

Now, she was lying across the table, tossing a crumpled piece of paper in the air and catching it while you tried—tried—to work.

"Are you actually going to do anything?" you snapped, not even looking up. "I’m thinking," Jinx drawled.

"Thinking about what?"

"Life. The universe. Why you look cute when you're mad."

You gripped your pen so hard you swore it was going to snap.

"Jinx—"

"Okay, okay," she groaned, finally sitting up. "What do you want me to do?"

You stared at her.

"You’re actually asking?"

"Yeah, yeah, don’t make it a big deal." She leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. "Gimme an easy one."

Your eyes narrowed. "You want an easy task?" "Duh."

You handed her the worst possible section—the dense, boring, data-heavy research portion. Jinx took one look at the paper and whistled. "Damn, this looks awful."

"That’s why you’re doing it." "You’re actually evil."

"And you’re actually going to help, right?"

Jinx clicked her tongue, spinning the paper between her fingers. "Yeah, yeah," she muttered, flipping through it lazily. "But this is gonna take a while."

"Then get started."

She groaned, but to your utter shock, she actually grabbed a pen and started reading.

For the first time all week, Jinx was working.

You didn’t trust it.

One Hour Later

You were deep in your notes, rewriting a key point, when you heard the sound of soft snoring.

You froze.

Slowly, you looked up.

Jinx was asleep.

ASLEEP.

Face down, arms crossed under her head, completely knocked out on top of the papers she was supposed to be reading.

You stared at her, completely, utterly done. "Are you—" You cut yourself off, pressing your fingers against your temple. "Jinx."

She didn’t move. "Jinx." Nothing.

You took a deep breath.

Then you reached over and flicked her forehead. Jinx jerked awake with a yelp. "Ow—what the hell?!"

"You fell asleep," you said flatly. Jinx blinked at you, dazed, then slowly sat up, rubbing her forehead. "Uh. Yeah. Guess I did." You pinched the bridge of your nose. "You are impossible." Jinx snickered. "And yet, here I am, still your partner."

You were going to lose it.

"Go get some coffee," you muttered. "And actually finish reading that before the meeting tomorrow." Jinx stretched, standing up with a yawn. "Yeah, yeah. You want anything?"

You blinked. "What?"

"Coffee. Or, like, one of those nerd drinks you like." Your brain stalled. "You don’t even help, and now you’re offering me coffee?"

"Gotta keep my partner alive somehow," Jinx said, flashing you a grin.

You didn’t answer.

Because if you did, you weren’t sure if you’d start yelling at her again or—

…Something else.

"Just go," you muttered. Jinx snickered. "Later, nerd."

And just like that, she walked off, leaving you staring after her, completely bewildered.

You were still thinking about it.

Not the project. Not the research. Not even the looming deadline.

No, you were thinking about her.

More specifically, about how Jinx—your infuriating, lazy, reckless excuse of a project partner—had casually asked if you wanted coffee.

Like it was normal. Like it was just something she did.

And worse?

You had actually hesitated.

Because for one brief, insane second, your brain had latched onto the idea of Jinx showing up with your coffee order, sliding it across the table, like it was a habit.

You shook your head aggressively. No. No, absolutely not.

Jinx was unreliable, frustrating, and a walking disaster.

And yet—

You caught yourself glancing at the door every time someone walked past the study room.

Waiting.

Thirty Minutes Later Jinx never came back.

You should’ve expected it. Should’ve known she was just messing with you.

But still—

You hated the way annoyance curled in your chest as you packed up your notes.

It was fine. You didn’t need her help. You never did.

The Next Morning

By the time you arrived at the library study room, you were fully prepared to go another round with Jinx about her lack of effort.

What you weren’t prepared for was finding her already there.

Sitting at the table. Waiting.

And beside her?

A coffee cup.

You froze.

Jinx noticed immediately, her grin slow and smug. "Morning, sunshine."

You blinked. "You’re… early."

"Shocking, huh?" She nudged the extra cup toward you. "Told you I’d keep my partner alive."

You hesitated.

This—this had to be a joke. Some weird, elaborate attempt to mess with you.

But when you didn’t move, Jinx rolled her eyes. "Relax, nerd. I didn’t poison it."

You narrowed your eyes. "How do you even know what I drink?"

Jinx stretched lazily. "C’mon, you think I don’t pay attention? You always get the same thing."

…What?

Your brain halted.

She—she had noticed?

Before you could even begin to process that, Jinx leaned forward, elbows on the table, grinning like she had won something.

"Admit it," she teased. "You totally thought I ditched again."

You didn’t answer.

Which was an answer in itself.

Jinx laughed. "Damn, you really have no faith in me, huh?"

"Gee, I wonder why," you muttered.

She just smirked. "Well, guess I gotta surprise you more often, huh?"

You hated that your heart did something weird at that.

You quickly grabbed the coffee, ignoring everything else. "Just don’t screw up your part of the project."

Jinx saluted. "Yes, ma’am."

You didn’t trust her.

But for the first time, you wanted to.

Jinx didn’t immediately start slacking off.

Which, honestly, was the biggest surprise of your day.

For the next hour, she actually read through the research, tapping her pen against the table, occasionally writing things down. You caught her twirling a knife between her fingers at one point, but at least she wasn’t using it to carve something into the desk—so, progress.

You weren’t convinced she was actually absorbing any information, though.

"Jinx."

"Mm?"

"What did you just read?"

She didn’t even look up from her notebook. "Dunno. Some words." You exhaled slowly. "You’re impossible." "You say that like it’s a bad thing," she teased. You rubbed your temples. "Just—focus."

Jinx sighed dramatically but flipped back a page in her notes and started reading again. This time, out loud.

"‘According to the research conducted on—’blah blah blah, too many big words, you get the point."

"That was three seconds of effort."

"It’s called efficiency."

You gave her a look.

"Fine, fine," she muttered, waving a hand. "I’ll read like a normal person."

You weren’t sure if she actually would, but for the next few minutes, she didn’t say anything.

And then—

"Hey, brainiac."

You sighed. "What?"

"You ever get tired of being a know-it-all?"

You paused.

Your immediate response was no, obviously not—but something about the way Jinx said it made you stop.

You glanced at her.

She wasn’t grinning. She wasn’t teasing.

She was just watching you.

And that was—unnerving.

You shrugged. "It’s not about knowing everything. It’s about working for it."

Jinx hummed, spinning her pen between her fingers. "That why you do all that competition stuff?"

"I enjoy it." "Yeah, but why?"

That threw you off.

You had never really questioned it before. "I don’t know," you admitted. "I just like pushing myself. Seeing how far I can go."

Jinx smirked. "Bet you win a lot, huh?" "Most of the time." "Damn. No wonder you’re like this." "Like what?"

"A terrifyingly dedicated nerd."

You rolled your eyes. "At least I’m competent." "Hey," Jinx huffed, dramatically placing a hand on her chest. "I’m plenty competent. Just… in other ways."

"Name one."

"I could steal your wallet right now."

You automatically checked your pocket. Jinx cackled. "See? Competence.*"

You glared. "That’s not competence. That’s crime."

"Tomato, tomahto."

You were going to lose your mind.

You sat stiffly in a quiet corner of the library, laptop open, notes organized in neat stacks. Every slide for your presentation was half-done, waiting for input that had yet to come. Across from you, Jinx had her feet kicked up on the chair beside her, her own completely untouched notebook acting as a makeshift sketchpad.

She was drawing. Again.

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to stay calm. "Jinx." No response.

You narrowed your eyes. "Jinx, can you—" "Sshhhh," she interrupted, making vague scribbling motions. "Gimme a sec. I’m in the zone."

"You’ve been 'in the zone' for the past two hours." "And?"

"And you haven’t contributed anything." Your patience was wearing thin. "At all." Jinx finally glanced up, grinning. "I contribute moral support."

You clenched your jaw. "That’s not how group projects work." "Maybe if you stopped acting like a stressed-out librarian, you’d be more fun to work with."

You inhaled sharply, gripping your pen tighter. "Maybe if you actually did something, I wouldn’t be stressed." Jinx hummed, spinning her pen between her fingers. "Sounds like a you problem, nerd."

You gritted your teeth. Unbelievable.

She wasn’t even trying.

It wasn’t just her usual brand of chaos—this was deliberate. Like she wanted to see how long she could get away with doing nothing before you snapped.

And the worst part?

She was enjoying this.

You rubbed your temple. "This is a major part of our grade, Jinx."

"Mhm." "It requires actual work." "Mmm."  "I swear to god—"

"Relax, nerd." Jinx stretched, grinning. "You’re smart. You got this." "We got this," you corrected, your patience hanging on by a thread. "This isn’t just my responsibility."

Jinx’s smirk flickered just slightly.

It was quick—barely noticeable. But something in her expression shifted. Then, just as fast, she was back to her usual carefree self.

"Alright, alright." She sat up, cracking her knuckles. "Lemme see the damage."

You turned your laptop around, half-expecting her to fake interest before finding another excuse to be useless. But to your surprise—

Jinx actually looked.

She tilted her head, scanning the slides, lips pursed in thought. Then—"Wow. You really did all of it, huh?"

You crossed your arms. "What did you expect?"

"I dunno. Maybe a little procrastination? A tiny bit of slacking off? You’re kinda making me look bad here, nerd." "You’re making yourself look bad."

"Damn. Brutal."

"This actually looks kinda good." "Of course it does," you replied, adjusting the margins. "I made it."*

Jinx snorted. "Cocky." You ignored her, your fingers flying across the keys—

Until Jinx stole your pen.

You paused mid-sentence.

"Jinx."

"Mmm?"

You turned, only to see her twirling it lazily between her fingers, completely and utterly unbothered.

You exhaled sharply. "Can you not?

"Can I not what?" she asked, still flipping the pen with obnoxious precision.

"Be distracting."

"I’m not distracting," she said, tapping the pen lightly against your wrist.

You snatched it back. Jinx grinned. "Ooh, feisty."

You rolled your eyes, turning back to your laptop. Then, just as you started typing again—

You felt it.

Something soft. Light. Tracing over your forearm.

At first, you thought you imagined it.

But then—

The sensation deepened. Your fingers froze.

Jinx was drawing on you.

Not your hand—your arm. Slow, lazy strokes of ink curling over your skin. You stared at your laptop screen, motionless. For a second, you considered ripping your arm away.

But you didn’t.

Not because you didn’t want to.

But because your entire brain short-circuited trying to process why the hell she was doing it in the first place. You twitched slightly. "What the hell are you doing?"

Jinx didn’t stop. Didn’t even look up.

"Dunno yet," she murmured, her tone completely casual. You blinked.

What.

She kept going. Her brows furrowed slightly, her tongue peeking out in concentration.

She wasn’t doodling mindlessly. She was focused.

Like she actually cared about whatever the hell she was drawing on you.

"Jinx—" "Shh."

Shh?

Oh, hell no.

Your frustration spiked, but so did something else—something you didn’t want to name. "You can’t just—" "Almost done."

Your jaw clenched. You didn’t know if you were more annoyed at her nerve or at the fact that your stupid, traitorous body hadn’t moved yet.

Jinx finally leaned back slightly, inspecting her work.

A series of spirals, tiny stars, and something that vaguely resembled a bomb trailed across your arm, ink sinking into your skin.

Jinx grinned, satisfied.

"There. Now you’re way more interesting."

You inhaled slowly, deeply.

"Jinx, I swear to god—"

"Relax, Brainiac."* She stretched, tilting her head. "You looked like you were about to become one with the laptop screen. Figured I’d make sure you were still alive."

Your eye twitched. "By drawing all over my arm?"

"Mhm."

You scowled. "You’re impossible."

Jinx smirked. "And yet, you haven’t wiped it off."

Your breath hitched.

You looked at your arm.

At the ink.

Your pulse betrayed you.

And the worst part?

Jinx knew it.

Her smirk widened.

And you realized—

You had just lost something.

A battle. A moment. A tiny, imperceptible shift in whatever the hell was happening between you two.

And you didn’t know how to take it back.

-

The walk to your dorm felt longer than usual.

Maybe it was the weight of your bag, or maybe it was the weight of everything else.

Jinx.

Your arm still felt warm where she had touched it.

You hated that you noticed.

You hated that the feeling wasn’t going away.

The entire night replayed in your head—how she had leaned close, how she had grabbed your wrist, how her fingers had lazily traced ink over your skin, how you had let her.

You should have pulled away sooner. You should have said something.

You should have—

Your footsteps slowed.

You lifted your arm hesitantly, rolling up your sleeve.

The ink was still there.

Messy little doodles, half-formed shapes, some random scribbled stars. She had even drawn a tiny bomb with a smiley face.

You swallowed.

It wasn’t that deep. It wasn’t anything.

It was just Jinx being Jinx.

And yet, your fingers hovered over the marks, barely touching them, like you were scared they’d smudge.

You exhaled sharply, pulling your sleeve back down.

This was not what you should be thinking about.

You had a competition in a few days. You had an unfinished presentation. You had actual priorities.

Jinx wasn’t one of them.

So why was she the only thing in your head?

You reached your front door, hesitating before pushing it open.

The house was quiet. Dimly lit. The kind of silence that should’ve been calming, but instead felt suffocating.

You went straight to your desk, flipping open your laptop.

Distractions. You needed distractions.

You pulled up your notes, reread your speech, forced yourself to focus.

But as the cursor blinked on the screen, so did the thoughts.

Jinx’s voice.

Jinx’s laughter.

Jinx’s stupid, lazy smirk when she had said—

"You trust me?"

You clenched your jaw.

That was the worst part.

Because you did.

And you didn’t know how to stop.

-

You barely got any sleep.

It wasn’t like you weren’t trying—you had shut your laptop, turned off the lights, buried yourself under the covers, but your mind refused to shut up.

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Jinx.

Not just from last night, but from every moment leading up to it.

The way she stretched lazily in her seat during class, always looking half-bored, half-ready to cause problems.

The way she smirked every time she knew she was getting under your skin.

The way she had looked at you last night—not mocking, not teasing, just looking.

It was pissing you off.

You groaned, rolling onto your side, gripping your blanket like it owed you something.

You had bigger things to worry about.

Your competition was in a few days. You should be locked in, reviewing your notes, making sure every word of your speech was airtight.

Instead, you were lying here, restless, with Jinx’s stupid doodles still on your arm.

You were so gone.

The realization made something burn in your chest, something uncomfortable and stubborn and so, so frustrating.

You needed a reset.

you snapped into work mode.

Your entire morning routine was strictly regimented—wake up, shower, ignore the way the ink from last night smudged faintly against your skin, grab coffee, and sit down to actually focus.

You pulled up your notes, exhaling sharply.

Competition first. Presentation second. Everything else? Irrelevant.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to dive in—

Knock, knock.

You froze.

You weren’t expecting anyone.

For a brief, horrifying moment, you thought—

No. No way.

Jinx wouldn’t just show up unannounced. That was insane.

But then again—it was Jinx.

You hesitated before standing, your pulse way too fast for something this small.

The second you opened the door—

It wasn’t Jinx.

It was just one of your classmates, reminding you that the professor wanted a status update on the project today.

Your stomach twisted.

Right.

The project. Jinx. Everything you had very intentionally pushed aside.

You forced a nod, closing the door, but the damage was done.

Your focus was wrecked.

And you still had no idea how to fix it.

-

You weren’t expecting to see Jinx today.

And yet, the moment she strolled into the classroom, she made a beeline for your table—not hesitating, not looking around, just slumping into the seat right beside you like she’d been sitting there all semester.

Jinx barely even showed up to class. And when she did, she never sat with you.

The shift was so jarring that for a second, you actually paused, hand hovering over your notes as you stared at her in disbelief.

Jinx noticed. And smirked. Her lips curled into something lazy, too knowing.

"You look tired, nerd."

You ignored her, dropping your bag onto the table and pulling out your laptop and notebook.

Jinx leaned closer, resting her chin on her palm. "Bad dreams? Or were you just up all night thinking about me?"

You didn’t even hesitate—"I was up all night fixing this project, since someone refuses to do their part."

Jinx let out a low whistle. "Damn. You sound stressed. Want me to draw you a little relaxation doodle?"

You exhaled sharply, rolling up your sleeves—only to freeze when you caught the faintest traces of ink still smudged on your skin.

Jinx saw it too.

Her smirk widened.

"Still wearing my masterpiece, huh?"

Your jaw clenched. "It wouldn’t wash off."

Jinx hummed, looking entirely too pleased.

“Whatever you say.”

You ignored her, turning back to your work.

This was fine. You weren’t going to let her distract you. Not today.

Your competition was coming up, the presentation still wasn’t done, and you had absolutely no time to deal with whatever game Jinx was playing.

You started typing, drowning her out.

Or at least, you tried.

Because not even a minute later—

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

You blinked.

Jinx had stolen your pen.

And she was drawing all over your notes.

Your perfect, well-organized notes.

"What the hell are you doing?" you snapped, trying to grab the notebook back.

Jinx dodged effortlessly, looking entirely too amused as she continued scribbling. "You looked tense, nerd. Thought I’d help."

"By defacing my work?"

"By improving it," she corrected. "Look, I even gave you a cool lil' skull doodle. Very fitting."

You gritted your teeth, trying not to let her get a reaction out of you. She wanted you to snap. That was what she always did—poked and prodded until you finally gave in.

You weren’t playing along.

Instead, you yanked the notebook away, holding it at a distance as you examined the damage.

And—god.

She had covered the margins with tiny, chaotic doodles. Skulls, bombs, what looked like an awful caricature of your professor, and—was that supposed to be you?!

You shot her a look. "Why am I holding a calculator like it’s a sword?" Jinx grinned. "Because you’re a nerd, obviously." Before you could fire back, a sharp voice cut through the air—

"If you two are done disrupting the class, perhaps you’d like to return to the actual lesson?"

You stiffened as your professor fixed the two of you with a pointed stare.

Jinx, as always, looked completely unfazed.

She leaned back in her chair, flashing an easy grin. "Oh, don’t mind us, Prof. We’re just bonding."

You wanted to sink into the floor.

With a murderous glare, you shoved your notebook into your bag and turned back to your screen, utterly determined to ignore her for the rest of the class. Jinx just hummed under her breath, tapping her fingers against the desk.

You could feel her watching you.

And somewhere, deep down, you knew—

This wasn’t just distracting you.

It was messing with you.

And worse?

You let it.

The second class ended, you bolted out the door. Your face was still hot with embarrassment, and no matter how hard you tried to block it out, the professor’s voice echoed in your head—

"if you two are done disrupting the class, perhaps you’d like to return to the actual lesson?"

You wanted to die.

That was the first time you had ever gotten called out like that. Ever. You prided yourself on being a model student. Always prepared, always focused, always at the top of your class. Professors never had a reason to reprimand you.

Until today.

Because of Jinx.

You exhaled sharply, walking faster.

But, of course—

"Yo, nerd! Wait up!"

Jinx was following you.

You didn’t bother slowing down. "Go away."

She easily caught up, falling into step beside you. "Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that. That was, like, a bonding moment!"

You shot her a glare. "That was humiliating."

Jinx snickered.

You clenched your jaw, fingers tightening around your notebook. "That was my first time getting scolded by a professor, and it was because of you."

Jinx grinned. "Welcome to the dark side, Miss Perfect."

You stopped walking.

She took two more steps before realizing you weren’t beside her anymore, then turned with a raised brow.

You crossed your arms. "I’m being serious."

"So am I," she said, rocking back on her heels. "It’s about time you got a little dirt on your spotless record. Live a little."

You scoffed. "How is getting scolded in front of the whole class ‘living’?"

"Because now you’ve got a funny story to tell."

"That wasn’t funny."

"It was from my perspective," she said, smirking. "You should’ve seen your face, nerd."

You groaned, pressing your fingers to your temple. "I don’t have time for this."

"You sure about that?" Jinx’s head tilted. "Because if I were you, I’d be real worried about that little presentation we have to do. And your big scary competition coming up. And your totally not at all distracting duo partner."

Your eye twitched.

She was pushing you.

And what made it worse—she was right.

You were running out of time. You had a million things to do, and instead of being productive, you were standing in the middle of the hallway, arguing with Jinx.

She must have sensed your spiraling thoughts because she gave you a lazy salute and started walking backwards.

"Anyway," she said, hands in her pockets, "I’ll leave you to it. Try not to stress yourself to death, yeah?"

And with that, she turned on her heel and strolled away.

Like she hadn’t just wrecked your entire focus.

You exhaled sharply.

You had work to do.

But as much as you wanted to bury yourself in productivity, your thoughts kept drifting—

To Jinx.

To what she said.

To the fact that, somehow, some way, she had managed to mess up your entire day—

And you weren’t sure why you didn’t hate it more.

By the time you got back to your dorm, your head was killing you.

You dropped your bag by your desk and powered on your laptop.

The slides were still a mess.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. This is fine. You could finish it yourself. You just had to—

Your phone buzzed.

Incoming Video Call: Jinx

You stared at the screen.

You had never gotten a call from her before. She barely even texted.

Your first instinct was to ignore it.

But then you exhaled and swiped to accept.

Jinx’s grinning face filled the screen. “Hey, nerd.”

You blinked. “...Why are you calling me?”

She snorted. “Uh, because we have a presentation? Ring any bells?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You suddenly care about the project?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, I’ve been a terrible partner—blah blah blah—but I figured I’d help. Y’know, out of the kindness of my heart.”

You gave her a flat look.

She smirked. “Or maybe I just wanna mess with you more.”

You groaned. “That sounds more accurate.”

Jinx grinned. “C’mon, send me the slides.”

You hesitated. Was she actually going to do anything?

Still, you sent her the link.

A few seconds later, she shared her screen, revealing your unfinished slides.

“So,” she said, scrolling through them, “what’s left?”

You leaned back in your chair. “Everything, basically.”

Jinx let out a low whistle. “Damn. You really were doing all the work, huh?”

You shot her a look. “What did you think I was doing?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. I thought you were just... like that.”

“Like what?”

“You know,” she waved a hand, “a tryhard.”

Your eye twitched. “I am not a tryhard.”

“You kinda are.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Can we just—work?”

Jinx laughed. “Alright, alright, keep your nerd rage in check.”

She actually started helping.

Kind of.

She made the font colors bright neon just to mess with you. She changed one of the slide titles to “Boring Smart People Stuff” before you immediately changed it back.

And at one point, she doodled on one of the slides.

“Jinx,” you said, staring at the little shark cartoon in the corner of your PowerPoint. “What is this.”

“A masterpiece,” she said proudly.

You dragged a hand over your face. “We can’t have that in the final version.”

“Why not? It adds character.”

“It adds stupidity.”

“Same thing.”

You let out a long-suffering sigh. “You’re impossible.”

Jinx just smirked. “And yet, here we are.”

You rolled your eyes—but for the first time all day, your shoulders didn’t feel so heavy.

You still had a ton of work to do. You still had a competition to stress over.

But at least, for tonight, you weren’t dealing with it alone.

-

The library was quiet—at least, it was supposed to be.

You were seated at a table near the back, books spread out around you, your laptop open, and your notebook already filled with messy notes.

You rubbed your temples, trying to push past the ache behind your eyes.

"Just keep going," you told yourself. "Fix the speech, finalize the slides, run through it one more time—"

Across from you, Jinx slouched in her seat, legs kicked up onto another chair.

She had shown up late, wearing her usual smug expression, and hadn’t done a single productive thing in the past hour.

Right now?

She was spinning a pencil between her fingers like she didn’t have a single care in the world.

You exhaled slowly, trying to keep your irritation in check.

“Are you gonna help at all?” you finally asked.

No reply. 

You inhaled slowly, willing yourself not to snap.

“Okay,” you said, voice tight. “We need to finalize the script.”

Jinx slumped further into her seat. “Pshh, what script?”

You gave her a look. “The one we’ll be graded on?”

Jinx smirked. “Oh, that script.”

You clenched your jaw.

She was not helping.

You turned your laptop toward her, pointing at the half-written speech.

“Here,” you said. “You can write your part.”

Jinx blinked at the screen, then at you.

“…Or,” she drawled, stretching her arms over her head, “you can write my part, and I can sit here looking pretty.”

You snapped your laptop shut.

"Jinx."

You had zero patience left.

“Look,” you said, barely keeping your voice steady. “I don’t care what you do with your life, but I do care about my grades, and I am not about to let you drag them down.”

Jinx just grinned. “So serious. You should, y’know, relax. Live a little.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

“Relax? Relax?” You gestured to the chaos of papers around you. “I don’t have time to relax! I have this script, these slides, my competition, and somehow I also have to make sure this entire presentation doesn’t go down in flames because you refuse to take anything seriously!”

Jinx didn’t say anything for a second.

Then, she shrugged. “Sounds like a you problem.”

You stared at her.

Absolutely seething.

Your nails dug into your palm.

Don’t scream. Don’t kill her. Don’t lose it.

Your body was too exhausted to keep this up. Your brain was fried from juggling so much at once.

You could feel your vision swimming just from the sheer amount of stress pressing down on you.

You dropped your head onto the table, exhaling sharply.

You turned back to your laptop, forcing yourself to focus.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

You barely noticed the way your head started dipping.

Or how your blinking got slower.

Or how your grip on your pen loosened.

And then—

Darkness.

—

A hand tapped your forehead.

“Yo.”

You jerked awake.

Your vision was blurry, your brain foggy.

You blinked, trying to process where you were.

The library. Your notes. Your laptop screen, now dimmed from inactivity.

And across from you—

Jinx, watching you with an amused expression.

“Did you just pass out?” she asked, tilting her head.

Your heart dropped.

You never fell asleep while studying.

You had too much to do.

You shot up, suddenly panicked. “How long—”

“Relax, nerd.” Jinx stretched her arms over her head. “Like, fifteen minutes. You were out cold. Thought you died for a sec.”

You scowled, rubbing your face. “I don’t have time for this.”

Jinx snorted. “Yeah, no kidding. You looked like you were about to implode before you knocked out.”

You ignored her, reaching for your notebook. You still had so much to finish—

But the moment you lifted your pen, your hand trembled.

You froze.

Jinx noticed immediately.

She rested her chin on her palm, watching you with something that looked too close to concern.

"You good?" she asked.

You curled your fingers, trying to steady your hand. "I’m fine."

Jinx raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, sure. Because ‘fine’ people totally pass out on their homework."

You exhaled sharply, not in the mood for this. "Jinx, I don’t have time for your jokes right now."

She didn’t fire back with another sarcastic comment. Instead, she leaned forward, drumming her fingers on the table. "D’you even eat today?"

You didn’t answer.

Jinx let out a low whistle. "Oof. That’s a no." She nudged your notebook away from you. "Alright, that settles it. You’re taking a break."

You grabbed it back immediately. "I’m not—"

"Yeah, yeah, you’re ‘fine.’" Jinx rolled her eyes. "Come on, nerd. You literally collapsed. You really think you’re gonna get anything done like this?"

You hated that she had a point.

Your mind was sluggish, your limbs heavy. Every word on the page blurred together no matter how hard you tried to focus.

Still, you shook your head. "I have to finish this. I can’t just—"

Jinx groaned dramatically before snatching your pen right out of your hand.

"Jinx!"

"Nope." She twirled the pen between her fingers, looking entirely unbothered. "You wanna work? Cool. But you’re not doing it alone."

You narrowed your eyes. "Since when do you care about this presentation?"

Jinx smirked. "Since you looked two seconds away from dying on my watch."

That shut you up.

Jinx exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. "Look, I know I’ve been… kinda useless."

You gave her a look.

She huffed. "Okay, very useless. But whatever, I’ll help now."

You were too exhausted to question it. You sighed, leaning back in your chair. "Fine. If you’re serious, you can help finalize the script."

Jinx grinned. "See? Was that so hard?"

You shot her a glare. "One condition."

Jinx wiggled her eyebrows. "Lemme guess. No doodling in the margins?"

"No distractions. We get this done, we run through it, and we’re done. Got it?"

Jinx held a hand to her chest. "Cross my heart, nerd. No distractions."

That promise lasted all of ten minutes.

You were halfway through editing the speech when Jinx started humming.

You ignored it.

Then she started tapping the table.

Still, you ignored it.

Then—

"Psst."

You clenched your jaw. "What?"

Jinx grinned. "You ever hear about that one guy who worked himself to death in a library?"

You gave her a blank stare. "…What?"

"Yeah, wild, right? Poor guy just—bam. Dropped dead on his notes." She tapped your forehead. "Sounds familiar?"

You swatted her hand away. "Jinx, if you don’t—"

Your vision swayed.

It hit you out of nowhere—your head feeling too light, your body too heavy.

You barely registered Jinx moving before your world tilted.

And suddenly—

You weren’t in your chair anymore.

You were in Jinx’s arms.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Jinx had caught you. One hand steady on your back, the other gripping your wrist. Her expression wasn’t playful anymore.

"Whoa—hey—" She adjusted her hold on you, voice alarmingly serious. "You okay?"

You tried to move, but your body refused to cooperate. Your pulse hammered against your ribs.

Jinx let out a slow exhale. "Alright, that’s it. You’re done for today."

"Wait, I—"

Jinx picked you up.

Not entirely, but enough to get you upright and way too close to her.

"Jinx," you hissed, mortified.

"Shh," she muttered. "You’re supposed to be unconscious. Stop ruining the moment."

You smacked her arm.

She laughed, but there was still something soft in her gaze—something you couldn’t place.

Then—

Her eyes flickered to your lips.

Your breath caught.

For a moment, you thought she might actually do it.

But then Jinx pulled back, smirk returning.

"Not yet, nerd," she teased. "You’ll have to fall for me a little harder first."

Your face burned.

And Jinx?

She just grinned.

The tension between you and Jinx hung in the air like a weight neither of you were willing to acknowledge.

You swallowed hard, still hyper-aware of how close she had been just seconds ago—how easy it would have been for her to close that last bit of distance.

Your heart was still racing.

Jinx, of course, looked entirely unbothered.

She stretched her arms over her head, grinning like she hadn’t just said something that made your brain short-circuit. "Alright, nerd. Since you’re obviously about to keel over, I’ll be nice and walk you back."

You blinked. "What? No, you don’t have to—"

Jinx leaned in, balancing her weight on her elbows. "Ohhh, I know I don’t have to. But I want to."

You scowled. "I can walk myself, thanks."

"Yeah? You sure about that?" She tilted her head. "Because, uh, you literally just collapsed."

You opened your mouth to argue, but the second you stood up, your legs wobbled.

Jinx’s arm shot out immediately, steadying you with an almost instinctual ease.

"Yeah, nope. You’re coming with me." She didn’t give you a chance to protest—just grabbed your stuff in one hand and your wrist in the other, dragging you toward the door.

You groaned, stumbling along beside her. "Jinx—"

"Shh." She threw an arm around your shoulders, steering you with way too much amusement. "Don’t fight it, nerd. Just let it happen."

You sighed. There was no winning with her.

—

By the time you made it to your dorm, you were exhausted.

Jinx dumped your bag onto your desk before flopping onto your bed like she lived there.

You glared at her. "You can leave now."

Jinx put her hands behind her head, smirking. "Aw, but we were just getting cozy."

You groaned, running a hand down your face. "Jinx, I need to sleep."

"Then sleep," she said easily.

You narrowed your eyes. "You’re still here."

Jinx grinned, completely unfazed. "You want me to tuck you in?"

"Out."

She laughed but finally stood, stretching. "Alright, alright. I’m going."

She made it halfway to the door before pausing.

When she turned back, her expression had shifted—still teasing, but softer. "...Don’t overdo it, okay?" Her voice was quieter, less playful. "Like, seriously."

You hesitated, caught off guard by the sincerity.

Before you could respond, Jinx winked. "G’night, nerd." And just like that—she was gone.

Leaving you alone with your thoughts.

And your racing heartbeat.

You barely got any sleep. No matter how much you willed yourself to shut your eyes and ignore everything that happened today, your brain refused to listen. Your body felt exhausted, but your mind was wide awake.

You tossed and turned in bed, replaying every little thing over and over again.

Jinx sitting next to you. Jinx refusing to help. Jinx looking at you like she could see straight through you. Jinx walking you back. Jinx tucking your hair behind your ear—

You groaned, shoving a pillow over your face.

This was stupid.

Jinx was stupid.

You were so tired, and you still had a million things to do.

Your competition was tomorrow. You sat up, running a hand down your face. There was no use in lying here, wide awake. With a frustrated sigh, you grabbed your notes from your desk and settled back under the covers.

Might as well study.

You flipped through the pages, scanning over highlighted sentences and messy annotations. But no matter how hard you tried to absorb the information, your mind kept drifting. Every time you read a sentence, it slipped through your brain like sand through your fingers.

Because all you could think about was Jinx.

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to push past it.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

Still, your mind betrayed you.

The way she grinned like she had the world in her hands. The way she looked at you when she thought you weren’t paying attention. The way her fingers lingered on your wrist when she caught you before you fell.

You slammed your notebook shut.

This was ridiculous.

You refused to let her be the reason you lost focus.

Your hands curled into fists.

There was no way in hell you were going to let Jinx distract you.

-

You woke up with a pounding headache. The kind that made you instantly regret staying up as late as you did. Your notes were still spread across your bed, some of them half-crumpled under your arm.

Your eyes burned, your body felt heavy, and your brain was foggy as hell.

And yet—

You had no time to rest.

The competition was today.  You forced yourself to sit up, rubbing the exhaustion from your face. You needed to review everything, memorize key points, and make sure you were fully prepared before you walked into that room.

Because if you weren’t?

You would lose.

And losing wasn’t an option.

You shoved down the nausea curling in your stomach and reached for your notes again.

Even if your hands were trembling.

Even if your chest was tight.Even if the words on the page blurred from lack of sleep.

You weren’t going to let that stop you.

You were going to push through it.

Even if it killed you.

—

The campus was already buzzing by the time you made it to the competition hall.

Students from different universities were scattered around, some reviewing their notes, others talking strategy. You spotted a few familiar faces—people you had competed against before.

But your focus was locked on one thing.

Winning.

“Damn. You look like hell.”

You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Jinx.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Not now.”

Jinx grinned, falling into step beside you. “Big day, huh?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t waste time thinking about anything other than this competition.

Jinx, of course, didn’t seem to care.

She nudged your side. “Bet you’re gonna kill it.” Something about the way she said it made your breath catch.

Not in a cocky, teasing way.

Not in a “Let’s see if you screw this up” way.

But in a genuine, I-believe-in-you kind of way.

Your chest tightened.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat.

You couldn’t let yourself get distracted.

Not now.

Not when everything was on the line.

Bright lights. Rows of chairs. Judges seated at a long panel in the front. You exhaled slowly, steadying yourself.

This wasn’t your first competition, but something about today felt… different.

Like the pressure was heavier.

Like every second counted.

You moved toward the waiting area, clutching your notes like a lifeline.

Jinx, for some reason, was still following you.

“You got this,” she said casually, hands stuffed in her pockets. You shot her a look. “Why are you even here?”Jinx smirked. “Moral support.” You scoffed. “Since when do you care about this stuff?” Jinx tilted her head, pretending to think. “Dunno. Since now?”

You rolled your eyes, turning your focus back to your notes.

But you couldn’t focus.

Not really.

Not when Jinx was still there.

Not when the weight of her gaze lingered. Not when you could still feel the faint warmth from where she had nudged you earlier. You shook your head, pushing those thoughts away. The competition was starting.

It was time to win.

Two hours later.

Your hands were clenched into fists.

Your jaw was locked.

Your heart was still racing.

You stared at the scoreboard, eyes fixed on the number next to your name.

Second place.

Your breath hitched.

Your stomach twisted.

You lost.

After all that work.

After all those sleepless nights.

After pushing yourself to the breaking point.

It wasn’t enough.

The judges were already moving on, announcing the first-place winner.

The crowd clapped.

You barely heard it. It was like your entire body had gone numb. Like something inside you had just… collapsed. The moment you stepped off the stage, Jinx was there.

“Hey.”

You didn’t answer.

Jinx frowned, stepping in front of you. “Yo. Nerd. Earth to you?”

You still didn’t respond.

Jinx’s smirk faltered.

“…You okay?”

That was the breaking point.

Your vision blurred.

Your breath caught.

And before you could stop it—

Tears welled up in your eyes.

Jinx’s expression changed immediately.

“Whoa—hey—”

You turned away quickly, trying to hide it but Jinx had already seen. You needed to get out of there. You turned abruptly, pushing through the crowd, ignoring Jinx’s voice calling after you.

Your breath was uneven.

Your heartbeat was too loud.

Everything felt too much.

Second place.

You lost.

And the worst part?

You knew exactly why.

You’d been distracted.

By her.

By the way she got under your skin. By the way her eyes lingered too long. By the way she smiled at you like she knew every single thought in your head. You let her mess with your focus.

And now, you had nothing to show for it.

Your feet carried you blindly through the venue’s halls, pushing through a back door that led to the empty lot outside. Cool air hit your skin.

You exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to your face.

Get a grip.

Before you could even try, the door slammed open behind you. You flinched, spinning around—

And there she was.

Jinx.

Breathless from running. Frowning.

"You seriously just ran off?" she said, exasperated. "What the hell, dude?"

You turned away. “Go away, Jinx.”

"Nope." You heard her footsteps. Getting closer.

"Look, I get it," she said. "Losing sucks. It feels like—"

"You don’t get it," you snapped, voice tight.

Jinx shut up. You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears threatening to spill again.

"I worked for this," you whispered. "I gave up everything for this. And I still—"

Your voice cracked. Jinx shifted.

You could feel her watching you.

After a moment, she spoke—quieter. "…So what now?" You exhaled shakily. "I don’t know."

Silence.

Then— "Hey," Jinx said.

You barely turned your head—

And then she was kissing you.

Your breath hitched.

It was fast, reckless—just like her.

But then she lingered—long enough for you to feel the warmth of it. The way she wasn’t just teasing, wasn’t just messing with you.

She meant it.

And for some reason, instead of pushing her away— You kissed her back. You pulled away, breathless.

Silence.

Jinx blinked at you, processing what just happened. Then—

“…Huh.”

Your brain short-circuited. That was it? That was her reaction? After everything—the running, the frustration, the crying—she just goes ‘huh’?

You didn’t even know what to say. Your lips still tingled from the kiss, but your brain hadn’t caught up yet.

Jinx scratched her cheek. “Sooo�� that happened.” You opened your mouth—closed it—then opened it again.

“What—what does that even mean?” you sputtered.

Jinx grinned, but there was something nervous about it. Like even she didn’t know what to do next.

“I mean, I don’t see you running away,” she pointed out. You should have. You should be freaking out, demanding answers, maybe even yelling at her—

But you weren’t.

You were just…standing there. Awkward. Speechless. Overwhelmed. Your thoughts were all over the place, but one thing was clear— You didn’t regret it.

Jinx rocked back on her heels, stuffing her hands into her pockets. "Sooo… you wanna pretend that didn't happen or...?" You exhaled sharply. “I don’t— I don’t know.”

Jinx shrugged, but you caught the way her fingers twitched. “Well, that’s not a ‘no.’” Your face felt hot. “You’re insufferable.” “You’re obsessed with me.”

You glared. “I—what?!” Jinx snickered, bumping your shoulder with hers. “Relax, nerd. No pressure or anything.”

But she wouldn’t meet your eyes.

And maybe that meant something.

Maybe this whole thing meant something.

And maybe—just maybe—neither of you were ready to admit it yet.

-

The awkward tension lingered for days.

Neither of you talked about the kiss.

Not in the library. Not in class. Not anywhere.

It was like an unspoken truce—act normal, pretend everything was fine, move on like nothing happened. Except. You couldn’t stop thinking about it.

And neither could Jinx. You caught her staring when she thought you weren’t looking. You noticed how she’d hover closer, how her usual teasing had lost some of its bite—how sometimes, it almost felt soft. And maybe you weren’t any better.

Because every time she laughed, every time she leaned in just a little too close, your heart betrayed you.

And then—

The presentation day came.

You nailed it.

The professor nodded approvingly. Your classmates clapped.

And Jinx?

She smirked, nudging you with her elbow. “Told you we’d crush it.” You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile. After everything—the stress, the frustration, the late nights—you had made it through.

Together.

—

Later that evening, you found yourself standing outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin.

Jinx was next to you, arms crossed, gaze flickering toward you every few seconds.

“So,” she said, kicking at the ground. “We did it.”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Silence. Then—

“Hey, nerd.”

You turned, only to find Jinx watching you, her usual bravado replaced with something… almost nervous.

She rubbed the back of her neck.

“I don’t wanna pretend that didn’t happen,” she admitted, voice quieter than usual.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Jinx sighed, like she was bracing herself.

“I like you.”

Three words. Simple. Direct.

Terrifying.

Your breath caught in your throat. And for the first time since that night—since the kiss—you let yourself feel it.

The warmth. The butterflies. The way she had always been there, pushing you, frustrating you, seeing you. You exhaled, a slow smile forming.

“…Took you long enough.”

Jinx blinked. Then— She grinned.

“Pshh. Please. I had you wrapped around my finger from day one.” You scoffed, shoving her shoulder, but before you could pull away—

She grabbed your wrist.

Pulled you closer.

And this time, when she kissed you—

There was nothing uncertain about it.

The moment word got out, the entire school lost it.

Jinx—the chaotic, unpredictable, barely-attends-class menace—and you—the academic weapon, professor’s favorite, most likely to succeed? Nobody saw it coming.

“Are you serious? Her?”

“What do you even talk about?”

“Oh my God, are you in love with her chaos?”

“We thought you hated her.”

"We literally watched you lose your mind because of her."

“Jinx has a girlfriend?”

“No, you don’t get it—she has her.”

The rumors spread like wildfire.

Some people were convinced it was a prank. Others thought it was some twisted case of academic sabotage. But then—

People started seeing you together.

The way Jinx would drape herself over your shoulders, stealing your pens just to hear you sigh in exasperation.

The way you rolled your eyes at her antics but never actually pushed her away. The way she’d lean down to whisper something in your ear, making you smile without even realizing it.

And suddenly, it made too much sense.

You sat on the grass, books open in front of you.       Jinx laid beside you, arms stretched over her head, watching the clouds.

“You’re supposed to be helping,” you reminded her.  She hummed. “I’m helping in spirit.”

You shot her a look. “That means nothing.”

Jinx grinned, reaching over to tug at your sleeve. “C’mon, nerd. You’ve been working too hard. Take a break.”

You sighed but let her pull you down until you were both lying side by side, staring at the sky.

For a moment, there was silence. Just the breeze, the faint sound of distant laughter, and the warmth of Jinx’s hand casually brushing against yours.

Then—

“…You know they’re all still freaking out about us, right?” You let out a small laugh. “Let them.” Jinx turned to face you, her usual teasing replaced by something softer.

She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’re really stuck with me now, nerd.”

You smiled.

As the sun started to set, casting warm hues over the campus, you turned your head slightly to look at Jinx. She was still staring at the sky, hands folded behind her head, her usual carefree grin softened into something almost unreadable.

It was peaceful—too peaceful.

“Y’know,” she murmured, “if you’d told me a few months ago that I’d end up with you—” she gestured vaguely at you, “—Miss Perfectionist, Miss Always-Has-Her-Life-Together—I’d have laughed in your face.”

You rolled your eyes. “Wow. Romantic.” Jinx smirked. “I’m serious.” She exhaled, tapping her fingers against her stomach. “Never thought I’d get this kinda thing. Someone who actually… sticks around.”

There was something uncharacteristically raw in her voice. It made your chest tighten. You nudged her side. “I’m not going anywhere.” Jinx turned her head, blue eyes locking onto yours, searching.

“…Promise?” You didn’t hesitate. “Promise.” She stared at you for a moment longer—then suddenly pulled her hoodie over her face. “Ugh. That was so corny.” You laughed, shoving her lightly. “You started it.” Jinx peeked out, grinning. “Guess you’re rubbing off on me, nerd.” You hummed, staring back up at the sky.

For the first time in a while, you weren’t worrying about grades. Or competitions. Or the weight of expectations pressing down on you.

For once— You just let yourself be happy.

A/N - this is my 3rd repost because for some reason my post wont appear on the tags ;-; i hope u enjoy this very yummy fic (i had a lot of fun writing this you dont understand.)

[deadlychansaw]

— hope

pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x reader

warnings: vomiting, no use of y/n, bit angst, pregnancy, it happens during ep 2 s2

a/n: omg first time writing something like this, i hope someone enjoy this 🫣

00:30 was the number sparkling in neon red in her bedside watch. She couldn't stop looking at it. She couldn't sleep. How could she? The bed too big and cold for her to be alone, she missed her husband. Where was he?

She thought that after the coma he would retire and live peacefully with her, maybe in some cabin in the woods with two kids and a dog. this thought alone made her want to tear up.

She knew being a police officer was dangerous, so every time he wasn't home she feared that something had happened. This made her want to throw up, and she did.

That was unusual for her, maybe... no. It couldn't be. But when was the last time she had her period again? It was nine days late, this was also unusual. How haven't she noticed it?

00:45. She couldn't wait until morning so she picked up her car and went to a 24h open drugstore

"Do you need any help, miss?"

"I want a pregnancy test"

"Are you alright, dear?"

She hadn't noticed that small tears started to run down her face.

"I will be"

As the old lady gave her the test she smiled sympathetically and said:

"I'm sure you will. You don't need to be afraid"

" My husband is a cop" She felt the need to reply

"Oh, I see. But you will be fine, dear. I felt the same when my husband fought in war."

This time, she didn't reply.

She got home after speeding the car a little more than necessary and running a few red lights and went straight to the bathroom to do the goddamn test.

Palms sweaty, hands shaking and feet stomping in circles. It hasn't even passed the three minutes the test needed to be ready, just a few more seconds and...

oh.

Positive. p-o-s-i-t-i-v-e.

She was pregnant and wasn't even sure her husband would return home. Where are you Jun-ho?

"Babe, why are you sleeping on the couch?"

His voice reached her ears like the light in the end of a dark tunnel.

"I was waiting for you"

"My love, you know you don't need to"

"But I wanted to. Where were you?"

"I was in some kind of a car chase, but they shot in my tires"

That made her eyes open wide. "What? Chasing who? Are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt. I wish I could tell you everything but i don't wanna put you at risk"

"I accepted the risk the day i accepted to be your wife. Please tell me. I'd rather know what i'm scared of"

"I guess you're right"

So he tells her everything. The games, his brother, his plan with Gi-hun. Everything.

"That is awful. Unbelievably awful. How can some people be so disgusting and evil? Gosh, that makes me sick"

She ran to the bathroom and started to vomit in the toilet, he ran after her and held her hair.

"Are you okay? I know it's s lot to process"

"Oh my God, I'm sorry for this, now you'll never want to kiss me again."

"There's not a world where i wouldn't want to kiss you" He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "But let's brush those teeth, shall we?"

Jun-ho gets up to put toothpaste in her toothbrush and give it to her.

"I don't know what i did to deserve you, Jun-ho"

"I am the lucky one here, babe. You're still here with me after everything i told you."

"i'm not leaving your side. Never."

He picks her up in bridal style.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting my wife to bed, as i should"

He really was the sweetest thing in her life, she needed to tell him already. All the what-ifs started coming to head again what if he doesn't want a child? what if he doesn't have time to form a family? what if he never come back home anymore?

"Babe, are you crying?"

"Do you really need to search for that island?"

"I do. These games need to stop."

"I don't want anything bad happening to you"

"I promise it won't. I will always come back home to you" He seals the promise by joining their lips in a long, slow and passionate kiss.

"Jun-ho, I need to tell you something but i'm so afraid of how you're gonna react."

"You don't need to be afraid, my love. I'm always here for you no matter what"

"I- I am pregnant" She doesn't wait for him to answer. " I know it's not the right time, and maybe you don't even want to be a dad and-"

She sees that he opened his characteristically big and warm smile, one that lights up her whole world.

"Are you... happy?"

"Are you kidding? Babe i feel like the luckiest guy of all South Korea. I'm so happy. Oh my god, i'm gonna have a daughter "

That made her chuckle.

"We don't know if it's a girl"

"Oh i'm sure of that. We need to celebrate"

"Celebrate? At this time? How?

"Hmm, i can think of a few ways..."

And she had a feeling she haven't felt in a while. relief. Hope.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Nothing But Net (And Love)

Pairing: KK Arnold x Reader

Fandom: UConn’s women’s basketball

POV: First-person

Word Count: 1,400+

Summary: kk is a menace even during the most loving day of the year..

If there’s one thing I know about KK Arnold, it’s that she’s competitive.

It doesn’t matter if it’s basketball, video games, or even something as small as rock-paper-scissors—she always plays to win.

That’s why, when February rolled around and all our teammates started talking about their Valentine’s Day plans, I wasn’t surprised when KK took it as a personal challenge to come up with the best way to ask me to be hers.

The only problem?

We’d been dating for almost six months.

She didn’t need to ask.

But this was KK we were talking about. She wanted to do it her way.

I should’ve known something was up when she texted me after practice.

KK: Meet me at the gym in 30. Wear something comfy.

Me: …Should I be worried?

KK: Nah, just be ready to lose.

I sighed, already shaking my head.

When I showed up at the gym, KK was already there, spinning a basketball on her finger with a cocky grin.

“Knew you’d come,” she teased, tossing the ball between her hands.

I crossed my arms. “I debated ignoring your text.”

She gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “You’d ignore me? On Valentine’s Day?”

I rolled my eyes. “What are we doing, KK?”

She smirked. “A little competition.”

I groaned. “Why am I not surprised?”

She dribbled the ball, looking way too smug. “Here’s the deal: One-on-one. First to seven. If I win, you have to be my Valentine.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And if I win?”

She paused, then scratched her head. “Uh… You still have to be my Valentine. But I’ll let you pick the movie for our date.”

I laughed. “So either way, I’m your Valentine?”

She grinned. “Obviously.”

Shaking my head, I grabbed the ball from her. “Fine. But don’t cry when I win.”

The game started off way too easy.

KK let me get a couple of shots in, probably trying to make me overconfident. I wasn’t stupid—I knew she was just waiting to flip the switch.

And sure enough, the second I got my third point, she locked in.

Her defense got tighter, her movements quicker, and suddenly, I was struggling to get a clean shot.

Within minutes, she had tied it up, 4-4.

I huffed, resting my hands on my knees. “Okay, you’re taking this way too seriously.”

She smirked, bouncing the ball. “Nah, I just really want you to be my Valentine.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

She winked. “And you love it.”

By the time the score hit 6-6, we were both sweaty and out of breath.

KK held the ball, dribbling slowly as she looked me up and down. “Final shot. You ready?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Go ahead, Arnold. Let’s see what you got.”

She grinned, then suddenly took off towards the basket.

I moved to block her, but at the last second, she spun away, smoothly laying the ball up and watching it fall through the net.

Game.

KK threw her arms up in victory. “Let’s gooo!”

I sighed, shaking my head as she jogged over to me, still grinning.

“So, does this mean I won?” she asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

I crossed my arms, pretending to think. “I guess…”

She gasped. “Guess? Nah, you gotta say it.”

I sighed dramatically. “Fine. You win, KK. I’m your Valentine.”

She beamed, stepping closer. “Say it again.”

I laughed. “KK—”

“Say it again.”

I rolled my eyes, but my heart was already melting. “I’m your Valentine, KK.”

Her smile softened, and she reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Good. ‘Cause you’ve been mine since day one.”

I felt my face heat up, but before I could say anything, she grabbed my hand and laced our fingers together.

“Come on,” she said, leading me toward the gym exit. “I got dinner reservations for us.”

I blinked in surprise. “Wait, what?”

She shrugged, looking smug. “Told you I had to win. I had a whole night planned.”

I laughed, squeezing her hand. “You’re something else, KK.”

She leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. “And you love it.”

Yeah. I really, really did.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[melgolbach]

all the way || mickey garcia

a/n: i’m watching *look both ways* and his character (gabe) is so HELLO??? like??? im crying… (yes this is a pregnancy fic)

your eyes lock into the stick that was in your hands. two lines. mickey won’t even be back in 2 months, how are you going to do this alone? you breathe in and you breathe out very slowly and grab your phone. this would have to be dealt with a phone call, you didn’t wanna scare mickey when he came home just to see your big belly.

your fingers shakily press each number on the dial screen, putting in your boyfriend’s number and then pressing call. you’re expecting it not to be picked up, so you already have a message sent out to him saying 𝘸𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬.

you pressed the green call button ay the bottom, your hands slightly shaking as you bring it up to your ear. it rings four times, and the line finally went off. “hey it’s mickey.., or fanboy. i’m either on duty or somewhere busy, please leave a message after the beep.” the line went dead with a long beeping noise, and your mouth opened up. “hi mickey, it’s me. please let me know when you get the chance to talk to me. it’s urgent, like… life or death urgent, i guess? anyways.. just let me know.” you and the call, and you look up to the ceiling. “what am i gonna do?” you whisper to yourself, closing your eyes.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

it was 20:30 when mickey got done with his 500 push ups, being the second to last done. his chest went up and down, sweat all over him. “that was easy as making cake,” he chuckled out. hang-man took his sweet time this round, and laughed from the floor.

“okay man.” he stood up from his spot, “i know i can do 500 push ups but the middle really does get to you.” jake ended. “what i meant was that i can’t make cake, hang-man. i always burn it.” jake understood the meaning now. “yeah, well… let’s hit the showers. man you smell,” he laughed, the back of his hand slapping mickey in the chest lightly. “says you,” mickey spoke back.

the two men walk their way towards the showers, talking about the day they had and how far it is until both of them could go home with their loved ones. “how is theodora by the way? she walking now?” mickey asked, asking about jake’s daughter. “oh man she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. yeah she’s walking and it’s a nightmare to be honest. one minute she’s there, and the next thing you know she’s trying to go upstairs by herself.” jake laughed.

“talking about babies makes me want to have one, but honestly? i feel like i leave too much to actually see them grow up. what if i miss the child birth as well? miss everything?” mickey questioned, his head spinning in circles with every thought about leaving his future ‘what if’ kid. “oh yeah that’s the down side of working in the military, leaving your wife and kid to defend themselves and grow up with out you. it breaks my heart every time i’m called back to station.. which now it’s nothing since i have them both in miramar now.” jake shrugged.

mickey hummed. “you thinking about getting your girlfriend pregnant or what?” jake laughed, shoving the shorter man. “no.. no, plus we haven’t really thought so far into our lives. i told her if she were to be with me all the way i’d be gone from time to time, the first time i left she left messages every day or even close to every hour. like yes, i love her man but i can’t be there all the time you know?” he shrugged, taking his clothes off casually and putting them on the wooden bench, hang-man doing the same as well. “yeah i get that. the first chick i was with was texting me 24/7, got my phone confiscated because of that. clingy people just don’t do me, man. i feel like people in the military in general don’t do clingy.” mickey nodded at that.

they’re done with what they’re doing, going to the lockers to get changed into brand new clothing. mickey’s phone is on his bag. as he wraps the white towel around his waist, he grabs it and taps on the screen to load the phone on. “oh shit.” he muttered, as he saw two missed notifications. “what?” hang-man asked, “i just got a man’s worst nightmare text and then voicemail.” mickey gulped, his other free hand going through his wet curls. “which is…” jake moved his hand, signaling to mickey what the message was. “we need to talk,” mickey showed him his phone, and what jake saw he whistled. “good luck man,” hang-man walked out of the locker room, shutting the door on his way out.

mickey walked over to a cold grey metal bench, sitting on it as his tags hung from his chest. he pressed the call back button, as he waited for his lover to pick it up. three beeps went on until the other line could be heard, “hey mickey.” he sucked in a breath, “hey mi alma. what’s up?” he asked, a soft smile planted on his face. “uh.. so you know how.., a month ago before you left we did the big bang and well, you left?” you stuttered. his eyebrows knot together in confusion, wondering why that was important for him to know now.

the door that opened to the locker room could be heard, rooster, bob, payback, rueben, and coyote all came in laughing with whatever was said by them. their eyes immediately landed on mickey, who’s only pair of clothing was covered by a towel with a hand in his phone looking dead on serious. an emotion never seen with their teammate. bob hushed them, quietness was heard again in the locker other than the clanging of opening the lockers and stuff being moved around. “mhm,” could be heard from mickey. “well.. uhm. how— i don’t want to say it but,” you stumble. “mi vida?” he breathed out, waiting for whatever it is you needed to tell him.

“i’m pregnant..” you whisper out, still seeming as tense on the other line to mickey. “what?” he asked in disbelief, “i’m..pregnant, did you hear me?” you whisper, hoping he didn’t hear you and not getting mad. “no.. no i heard you, god i’m sorry mi amor, give me a minute.” he pressed the mute button on the call after you said ‘okay’, as he put the phone down on the bench besides him.

he stared at the floor with wide eyes, thoughts flowing into his head. “but we were safe.” he mumbled. bob was the only one who could clearly hear him since his locker was right near the bench, the others far away on the other side of the room, still trying to eavesdrop into the conversation. bob’s eyes went wide, and he looked back behind him to tell the group to ‘quit it out.’ “i used a.. a condom, she was on the pill. we were safe,” he whispered. “mickey?” a girl’s voice could be heard through the locker room. he unmuted himself, “m here mi chica,” he mumbled. “okay. okay. i have two months left,” he spoke. “wh-when did you find out? how long have you known?” he asked you.

“for three hours. told you as soon as i could.” you answered back. “okay.. okay. when i get back, we’re gonna get through this okay?” mickey told you. “you’re.. not mad?” you asked him, a bit surprised. his face looked offended on the other line, but you couldn’t tell.

“mad? sweetheart, i’m… i’m a bit concerned, scared even. but i’d never be mad about any of this, we cannot control this. it’s.. it’s life.” he breathed. “i wish you were here right now..,” you mumble. “i know, i know me too. but as soon as i’m home, i’m all yours. all the way.” mickey said. “all the way?” you repeated, he hummed. “m sorry my love, i wish i could stay on the phone but i gotta go. i’ll try to check in every chance i get okay?” he told you, you nodded but forgot he couldn’t see it. “okay. call you later?” he hummed. “call you later amor. i love you, bye.” the call ended, and he stared up ahead in disbelief.

the gang behind him stood, all wanting to know what happened. “so like… you gonna spill the secret?” coyote’s voice broke the silence. “dude,” rooster stared at him in shock. “what? we’re all thinking it.” rueben said. “she’s…” mickey’s voice broke them up and had their attention on him in an instant. “she’s..” most of them repeated.

“she’s pregnant.”

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

a/n: AHHHH i love this movie sm. i loved that lili reinhart played in it, she was so good! but other than that here’s my take in a pregnant fic, pls lmk if yall need a part two cause this can turn into a tiny series if you want!! i could see it coming into something more. please remember to like and reblog and comment your feelings about it! <3 years

[guliexe]

—ON THE LOW 18+

Dealer!Nicholas/Wang Yixiang x Female!Reader

warnings/tags: slow burn, dealer/stoner!nicho, i call him weno in this, soft dom!nicho, shy!reader, loverboy!nicho, drug use, shotgunning, romantic, making out, dry humping, praising, fingering, oral (f. receiving), p in v, mating press, crying, unprotected sex, confessing, aftercare

♡ you started buying weed for your friends and ended up falling for the dealer—turns out, he fell even harder.

w/c: 9.7k (no proofread)

You’d seen him around long before you ever spoke to him. He wasn’t the kind of guy you could ignore. Not because he was loud, Weno was anything but loud, but because he had this presence. Calm, quiet, and detached, like nothing ever really touched him. He was always there but just out of reach. The kind of person who didn’t care if people were watching, but somehow still ended up being the one everyone looked at. You had a couple classes near the same buildings. He always showed up late, always dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed—big hoodie, baggy jeans, backpack hanging off one shoulder. Never rushed. Never looked stressed. Just there. He’d walk past where you and your friends were sitting on the grass and barely glance your way. But even that one second felt heavier than it should. You didn’t know much about him, but you noticed him. You always had. Weno wasn’t exactly a mystery, everyone on campus knew what he did, they just didn’t talk about it. Not out loud, anyway. The stories passed around in whispers. That he sells, and it’s good shit too. That he never chased customers, people came to him. That if he liked you, he might give you more than you paid for. That if he really liked you, you’d know.

You didn’t know if any of that was true. But what you did know was that your friends wanted weed and were too scared to go get it themselves. So they asked you. Apparently, being the quiet one made you the designated “safe” option. It wasn’t like you and Weno were strangers, anyway. You’d talked a few times now. Nothing long, quick chats during pickups, the occasional hi at a party when you passed by each other. He’d never made you feel weird or unsafe. Just… flustered. A little warm in the chest, a little unsure what to say next. He had a way of watching you that felt deliberate, even when he said nothing at all. Your friend had shoved some cash into your hand at the last minute, babbling about how “he’s chill, he’s not scary, just please go for me, I can’t” — and you’d sighed, texting him before you could overthink it. He told you to meet him behind the dorms. 6:30. You almost didn’t go. You weren’t sure why he made you nervous, he hadn’t done anything to deserve that label. But something about him felt sharp beneath all the calm. Like he could see through you if he wanted to. When you rounded the corner that evening, he was already leaning against the side of his car, phone in hand, headphones around his neck. The sun was low, painting the edges of his face gold. You caught yourself staring before you could stop. He looked up as you approached. “Didn’t expect you,” he said, not moving. You blinked, “Why?” He shrugged, “Thought one of your loud friends would be the one to show. You’re not really the type to do this.” It wasn’t teasing exactly, but the way he said it made your face warm. You cleared your throat. “They made me come.” “Mm,” he hummed. “Figured.”

He pushed off the car, pulling a ziplock from his hoodie pocket. You reached for it automatically, but he didn’t hand it over right away. “You ever tried it?” You shook your head. “No. It’s not really… my thing.” He tilted his head slightly. Not judging, just observing. “Didn’t think it was.” he chuckled softly, then he handed it to you, fingers brushing yours for half a second too long. You looked down at your hand, not at the bag, but at where your skin still tingled. “You’re good,” he said quietly, “Let me know next time.” You nodded, muttered a soft thanks, already starting to turn away, but then he said your name. You froze and glanced back. He was still standing by his car, one hand in his pocket, the other lazily spinning his keys around his finger. The way he looked at you made your stomach flip, like he wasn’t just looking at you, but through you. “You always do stuff for your friends?” His tone was casual, but the question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?” He shrugged a little. “They want something, and you’re the one who shows up.” A pause. “That happen a lot?”You weren’t sure how to answer. It did happen a lot. They asked, you went. Not because you wanted to, but because it felt easier than saying no. You glanced down at the ziplock in your hand. “I guess,” you mumbled. “I don’t know.” He hummed low, like that told him everything he needed to know. You looked back up, ready to say something else—anything, maybe even defend yourself, but he beat you to it. “You’re a good girl.” The words were soft and genuine, but they landed heavy. Your breath caught. His gaze didn’t waver—steady, calm, like he hadn’t just said something that made your skin go warm all over. You didn’t know what to do with that. You didn’t even know what it meant coming from him. You just knew it made something flutter in your stomach. “Thanks,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. You turned and walked off a little too quickly, heart pounding, ears hot, his voice still echoing behind your ribs. You’re a good girl. You didn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the night. It wasn’t long before your friends asked again. Same excuse, same tone, a whiny “please, he already knows you” and cash pushed into your hand like you owed them something. You hesitated more this time. Not because of them, but because of him. You hadn’t stopped thinking about last time. It replayed in your head again and again. You stared at his contact in your phone for some minutes before typing out the message.

You

hey my friends wanna grab again

He replied two minutes later.

Weno

same place 7:30

When you showed up this time, he was inside his car, driver’s door open, music playing low through the speakers. He looked up as you approached and smiled, lazy and half-lidded. “Hey,” he said, voice low. “Hey.”You tried not to sound nervous. You weren’t even sure why you were nervous. This wasn’t new. You’d done this before. But this time, it felt different. You felt different. He stepped out, shutting the car door behind him as he pulled the same ziplock from the pocket of his jeans. You took it wordlessly, but his fingers brushed yours again, on purpose this time. You could feel it in the way he didn’t rush, didn’t pull away immediately. “Still not trying it?” he asked, tilting his head. You shook your head. “Not yet.” He raised a brow. “Why not?” “I just… haven’t.” You tucked the bag quickly into your jacket pocket like it might deflect the attention. “You scared?” The way he asked it wasn’t mocking, just curious, like he wanted to understand you, not challenge you. You hesitated. “No,” you said finally. “Just don’t wanna.” He nodded slowly, watching you again with that unreadable expression. “Still doing things for your friends, though.” You pressed your lips together. “I guess.” “They ever do stuff for you?” You blinked. “What?” He shrugged. “Just wondering.” You didn’t answer. Mostly because you didn’t have one. He could probably tell, because he didn’t push. He just looked at you for a long second, eyes dropping to your mouth before flicking back up to meet your gaze as he rolled a blunt for him. “You should stop letting people use you.” The bluntness of it caught you off guard. You shifted on your feet, unsure whether to say thank you or tell him it wasn’t like that, even though maybe it was. “You don’t even like them that much, do you?” Your breath hitched. “They’re my friends.” “Mm,” he hummed. “If you say so.”

After that, it happened a few more times. The same routine: a text, a time, a quiet walk behind the dorms where he’d be waiting. Sometimes he was standing. Sometimes in the driver’s seat with the door open. Sometimes already smoking, low music humming from the speakers. And each time, it got a little easier to look him in the eye. But also harder not to look too long. Weno never talked much. He didn’t fill silence just to hear himself speak. He asked things, small things, personal in ways that didn’t feel invasive, just seen. He was trying to piece you together quietly, without making a show of it. You’d come with your friends’ money in your pocket and leave with more than you paid for. Not every time, but enough that you noticed. When you offered to give him more, he just shook his head, said “You’re good,” and he meant it, it wasn’t just about the cash anymore. You didn’t tell your friends about how often you started going. Sometimes it wasn’t even about picking up anymore. You’d hand over the cash, but he’d wave it off. “Not this time.” You started to wonder if he even gave you real amounts. If this was still a deal or just an excuse. What you did know was that somewhere along the way, something started to shift.

It was in the way your pulse picked up when his name lit up your screen. In how you started getting ready earlier than you needed to. In how you made sure your outfit and make up was cute before leaving, like that would help keep your face from giving you away when he looked at you like he always did. It was on the low. No one really knew how often you were seeing him now—certainly not your friends. To them, it was still just you doing the awkward task they were too scared for. They didn’t know that half the time you went to Weno now, it wasn’t even because of them. Sometimes they didn’t ask at all—you just found yourself texting him anyway. And he always said yes. You weren’t sure when it stopped being about weed. You weren’t sure it ever really was. Sometimes you’d sit with him for a while. In the passenger seat of his car, parked in the same quiet lot behind the dorms. He’d roll one and lean back with the window cracked, slow smoke curling out into the night while music filled the silence. He never pushed anything on you. Never asked why you stayed. But you stayed. You weren’t good at talking about yourself, and he didn’t make you. He just gave you space to exist, and maybe that was what started doing it. Maybe that’s why you kept feeling warmer every time you saw him. More sure that he saw you. And you started to open up to him. You two would hang out and talk about anything and anyone very frequently.

You were curled up in the passenger seat, legs tucked under you, jacket zipped halfway. The night was cool, and the air smelled like weed and cologne, smoke curling from the blunt between his fingers. His playlist low in the background that made it feel like time moved slower in his car. You hadn’t said much in the last ten minutes. Just sat there, letting the silence hang. But it wasn’t awkward. Weno never made things awkward. You gave him a small smile, eyes drifting out the window. The streetlights cast a warm glow across the dashboard. He tapped the ash into the tray and leaned back, one arm stretched across the back of your seat like he didn’t even think about it. “I don’t get it,” you said quietly after a moment. “You do this with all your clients?” “Do what?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly, playful but unreadable. “This.” You motioned vaguely between you. “Sit in the car, talk like this, not charge them.” He chuckled once, deep and soft in his chest. “No.” You blinked. “No?” He turned his head, looked right at you, and shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “They’re not you.” Your stomach fluttered. You tried to play it off, but your smile gave you away. He tilted his head slightly, watching you through the soft haze in the car. “You know you’re my favorite, right?” Your head snapped toward him. “What?” He smirked, exhaled a slow breath, eyes never leaving yours. “Client,” he added after a beat, but the pause was on purpose. His smirk deepened like he knew what he was doing to you. Your face went warm immediately. “Shut up,” you muttered, covering your smile with your hand. “I’m serious.” His tone was calm. “You don’t talk much, you don’t ask dumb questions, you never waste my time.” “Oh,” you said quietly. But your smile stayed. “So I’m convenient.” He leaned a little closer, voice dropping low. “Nah. You’re cute.” Your heart jumped. You didn’t know where to look. You didn’t know what to say. So you laughed—awkward and soft, trying to bury your face in your hands like that might cool your cheeks. You left a little later than usual that night.

Three days later, when your screen lit up with a text from him, you answered in less than a minute.

Weno

u free tonight?

wanna chill for a bit?

♡

You

yeah :)

same spot?

♡

Weno

pull up at 10

no rush

You tried not to read into it too much. But you still picked out a different hoodie this time, your favorite one, did a little extra on your make up, styled your hair in way you knew framed your face best. It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t anything. But your hands still felt warm as you walked out to meet him. His car was already there when you arrived. You climbed into the passenger seat, familiar now with the way the door stuck a little when you pulled it. Same playlist was on, and the heat was turned up just enough to make the inside feel cozy. He glanced over as you settled in, eyes flicking down to your mouth before meeting your gaze again. “Hey,” he said, voice smooth, quiet. “Hey,” you murmured back, smiling a little.

The next hour passed easily, like it always did when you were with him. You talked about nothing and everything, classes, music, random campus drama you weren’t even involved in, movies you both halfway remembered, the last weird dream you had. He laughed more than usual tonight, low and slow, eyes squinting a little when something you said caught him off guard. His hand rested on the steering wheel as he listened, thumb tapping the leather in a lazy rhythm. He made you feel comfortable, like whatever you had to say mattered even if it didn’t. Like he was listening just because it was you talking. At some point, he lit up. You were mid-sentence when he leaned forward to spark the lighter, the soft flick of it barely cutting into the music. He offered it to you once out of habit, holding the blunt out between two fingers, and this time you didn’t shake your head immediately. You hesitated. Then, before you could overthink it, you took it. Your fingers brushed his. His expression didn’t change, but something in his gaze lingered longer than before. “You sure?” he asked, voice soft, a little more serious now. You slowly nodded. “Yeah. Just—don’t laugh at me if I cough.” He smiled, “I won’t.” He leaned back into his seat. “Promise.” You inhaled, a small hit, like you’d seen him do a hundred times now. It burned, made your throat tickle, your eyes water just a little, but you didn’t cough. He watched carefully, still smiling. “Good girl,” he murmured.

Your chest tightened at the words, heat blooming under your skin before you could stop it. You handed it back to him quickly, trying to focus on the burn in your lungs, the soft thrum of bass in the background, anything except how warm you suddenly felt. Time got slower after that. An hour passed in a haze, soft laughter, lazy conversation, both of you sinking deeper into your seats, the windows fogging slightly. He smoked again, and passed it back and forth to you. Your body felt lighter. Music melted into the background, his voice a little rough now. You both stared out at the empty parking lot for a while, just existing. It was quiet in the way that felt close, not awkward. Every time your knee brushed his, he didn’t move. Every time you shifted, his eyes flicked toward your mouth, then back to the road like he didn’t want to get caught looking. And maybe it was the high, or the way the space between you had been shrinking since the start, but something changed. You turned to say something and caught him already looking at you, staring. His arm was still draped behind your seat, but now his fingers were brushing your shoulder, light and casual. You blinked at him. “What?” you whispered, voice lower than before. He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you for a long second, eyes warm, thoughtful. “C’mere.” You didn’t even think. You just leaned forward, heart thudding quietly behind your ribs as his hand slid slowly to the back of your neck. He tilted his head slightly. His lips brushed yours soft at first, testing. Then again, firmer. You leaned into it. Your heart stuttered, hands unsure of where to go. One found the edge of his hoodie. The other pressed lightly to his chest. His mouth moved against yours like he’d been thinking about this for a while. He wasn’t in any rush now that it was finally happening. You kissed him back slow, high and a little breathless, your skin buzzing all over. He pulled back eventually, just enough to look at you, eyes dark and steady.

“You’re high,” he said, almost teasing. “So are you,” you whispered. He smiled, gaze dropping to your lips again. “Yeah. But I still meant it.” You smiled, small and dazed, and tucked your legs under you again, curling back into your seat. The car was quiet for a few more minutes. Nothing changed. But everything had. And when you finally said you should go, he didn’t stop you. Just nodded, reached over, and opened the door for you like he always did. Before you stepped out, he caught your wrist gently. You turned back. His eyes searched yours for a moment. “Text me when you get in.” You nodded, “Okay.”

You

made it home :)

♡

Weno

good

was starting to think u got lost

♡

You

nope

just still thinking

♡

Weno

about?

♡

You

you

♡

Weno

yeah?

what part

♡

You

the obvious part

♡

Weno

mm

i liked that part too

didn’t rlly want u to go

♡

You

u didn’t?

♡

Weno

nah

wanted to kiss u again

♡

You

i wanted to too

but i got nervous :(

♡

Weno

it’s ok bby

will i see u again soon?

♡

You

yeah

if u want to

♡

Weno

i do

♡

You

can’t wait

goodnight weno :)

♡

Weno

me neither

gn <3

You didn’t stop thinking about that night. Or his texts. Or when he said he wanted to kiss you again. The way your heart stuttered when he called you bby like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it was already normal between you. It wasn’t, not really. But it was starting to be. You’d kept texting after that. Not every second of the day, but enough. Little check-ins, good mornings, music recs, late night questions that felt heavier than they sounded. He was never overly forward, not the type to blow up your phone or say things just to get a reaction, but everything he did say stuck with you. You were head over heels. Smiling at your phone and then burying your face in your pillow like an idiot every time. So when one of your friends mentioned the party coming up—some frat guy’s birthday, everyone was going, “you have to come, it’s gonna be huge”—you didn’t think much of it at first. Until she added, casually, “Pretty sure Weno’s gonna be there too, so you can’t get us some stuff as well?” That made your heart skip. You played it off, said “yeah, cool” and shrugged, but your brain had already started spiraling. What if you saw him? What if you didn’t? What if he ignored you in front of everyone? What if he didn’t? You told yourself you weren’t going for him. But you still stood in front of your closet longer than usual. You picked a dress—short, tight, something you hadn’t worn before. Simple, but it hugged you in all the right places. You did your makeup with more care than usual, spritzed perfume on your neck, your wrists, let your hair fall soft and full around your shoulders. You didn’t tell anyone why you looked a little extra tonight. But you kind of hoped he’d be there. And you really hoped he’d notice.

The house was already packed by the time you got there—music thumping through the walls, bodies crammed together in every corner, red cups in almost every hand. Lights low, flashing sometimes, music echoing through a speaker in the living room. It smelled like sweat, beer, weed, and cheap cologne. Typical. Your friends disappeared as soon as you walked in, squealing at someone they recognized near the kitchen. You stayed back for a second, just long enough to scan the crowd. Not because you were looking for anyone. Not on purpose, anyway. And then you saw Weno. Leaning against the far wall near the stairs, hoodie half-zipped over a white tank, cargo pants hanging low on his hips, the hem of his boxers peeking a little. He wasn’t dancing. Wasn’t talking loud or laughing or drinking like the rest of them. Just standing there, calm and unreadable, eyes lazily moving through the room like he’d been here a hundred times before. He was talking to someone, dapping them up quick, pulling something from his pocket and handing it off like it was nothing. No one looked twice. Just a quiet exchange, over in seconds. He didn’t try to be subtle, he didn’t have to. People came to him. You stayed near the edge of the crowd, drink in hand, pretending to be more focused on your friends than you were. But your eyes kept drifting back. He looked good. Effortlessly good. And he hadn’t seen you yet. You tried not to look over too often. Tried to focus on your friends and their chaotic conversations, the loud music, the colorful lights. You laughed at jokes that didn’t really register. Nodded along. Sipped water from your cup and told yourself it wasn’t that serious. He wasn’t even talking to you. He was doing his own thing. Still, your gaze kept drifting. Just to see if he was still there. Still. Every time you checked, he was. Some minutes passed like that—just you pretending to be more chill than you felt while your friends chattered and moved toward the crowd. You stayed behind, needing a second to breathe. You slipped into the kitchen, mostly empty now, except for the quiet hum of the fridge and the faint bass vibrating through the floor. You reached for the fridge handle, intent on just grabbing some cold water and hiding out for a bit, but when you turned, he was already there. Standing just inside the doorway. Watching. Your breath caught.

He didn’t say anything at first. His eyes scanned you slowly—top to bottom, unhurried. You felt it like a heatwave, settling low in your stomach. His gaze was darker than usual. Focused, sharp. You dropped your eyes immediately, trying not to fidget. Tugged lightly on the hem of your dress like it might help somehow, like maybe it covered more than it did. You felt your cheeks flush without him even having to speak. You weren’t even sure why you were so nervous. You’d seen him like this before, but something about tonight made it worse. Made you bite your lip without thinking. Made your cheeks burn just from the way he looked at you. “Didn’t know you’d be here,” he said, voice calm and even. A little rough from the smoke, but still warm. You glanced up, heart racing. “Yeah,” you said, “Wasn’t really planning to, but… my friends dragged me.” He smiled a little. “I’m glad you came.” Your breath hitched. You weren’t expecting that. “You look good tonight.” It landed heavy in your chest. No teasing. No smirk. Just him saying it like it was a fact. Your whole body flushed. “Oh,” you said, voice small. “Um. Thanks.” He nodded once, eyes still on you, and then glanced back toward the hallway. “I’m heading up to the balcony for a bit. If you wanna get some air.” He didn’t wait for an answer. Just gave you one last look—soft, lingering—and pushed off the doorframe to leave. “Come find me,” he said, and then he was gone. Leaving you standing in the kitchen, heart racing, lip caught between your teeth, wondering how the hell he always made you feel like this without even trying.

You lingered in the kitchen for a while after he left, pretending to scroll through your phone, half-listening to the party still pulsing through the walls. Your friends had fully disappeared into the crowd by now, probably dancing or taking shots or screaming over music. You told yourself you were just cooling off. Just getting a break from the noise. But you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d looked at you. The way he said it—You look good tonight. Like it wasn’t up for debate. Like he meant it, and he knew you’d heard him loud and clear. Eventually, you texted some excuse about needing air, said you’d be right back if anyone even cared that you left. You slipped out of the kitchen and made your way upstairs, heartbeat loud in your ears, feeling a little ridiculous and a lot nervous. The hallway was quiet, just some closed doors and the muffled hum of bass below. You found the door to the balcony slightly cracked open, soft breeze pushing in from the night. You pushed it open gently. There he was. He sat on a low, beat-up couch tucked against the wall. One leg stretched out, the other bent, arm thrown over the backrest like he owned the space. Head tilted back just slightly, hoodie slipping off his shoulder, lips parted around the blunt as he took a slow drag. The ember glowed red in the dark, lighting up the sharp cut of his jaw, the curve of his mouth. He looked unfairly good. Like the air belonged to him. Like nothing touched him. He turned his head lazily when he heard the door, eyes finding yours through the smoke. Didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything for a second. Just looked at you, then took another slow hit, exhaling with a quiet sigh before speaking.

“Knew you’d come.” You swallowed hard, heart kicking up again like you hadn’t already spent the last fifteen minutes trying to calm it down. His voice was low, almost lazy, but there was something behind it—something that made your chest tighten a little. You stepped out and quietly shut the door behind you. You sat down beside him, slow and careful, the cushion dipping under your weight. His knee brushed yours just slightly, warm through the fabric. You glanced over, then down again, chewing the inside of your cheek. “I just—I’d rather be up here with you than down there in all that chaos.” That got him to finally look at you. Head tilted slightly, eyes narrowed just a little like he was trying to read deeper than what you were saying out loud. He didn’t answer right away. Just flicked the ash from the blunt, leaned back again, eyes still on you. You breathed in through your nose, steadying yourself. Then softer, barely louder than the wind, you added, “I missed you.” He turned his head fully now, letting the blunt rest between his fingers. The pause that followed wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Warm. His eyes softened just a bit. “Yeah?” he said, voice a little quieter than before. “I missed you too.” It landed in your chest like a weight—like the kind of thing you weren’t sure you were allowed to want, but did anyway. He leaned in a little, not close enough to crowd you, but just enough for his knee to press softly into yours. His eyes didn’t leave your face.

“You been thinking about me?” he asked, voice still calm, but something about it made your stomach twist. You blinked. Heat rushed to your cheeks again, and you had to look away. “…Maybe.” He smiled at that, small and crooked and unfairly attractive. “Same.” And then he took another hit like he hadn’t just wrecked you with a single word. He let the silence hang for a few seconds after that, the blunt burning slow between his fingers, and then he said it quietly, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Come closer.” Your eyes flicked to his, heart stuttering a little. He didn’t look away, didn’t shift or make room, just waited. You hesitated for a second and then moved, scooting over until your leg was pressed fully against his. He reached out casually, like it was second nature, and slid his arm around your shoulders. A soft tug, and suddenly you were leaning into him, your head falling against his chest like it belonged there. You could feel everything. His warmth, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the steady thump of his heart under your cheek. His hoodie smelled like smoke and laundry and him. He brought the blunt to his lips again, took a hit, then lowered it and turned his head slightly toward you.“Want some?” he murmured. You shook your head, just once. “Not right now.” He hummed, didn’t push. Just let his hand stay where it was on your shoulder, thumb brushing idly against your arm. You didn’t say anything after that. Neither did he. You both just sat there, pressed together on the old balcony couch, the party a muffled storm below you, the stars wide and scattered above. You listened to the wind. The soft scratch of fabric when he shifted. The occasional drag and exhale as he smoked. You closed your eyes for a second and just let yourself feel all of it.

He shifted a little, moving his hand lower on your arm, caressing the skin, his breath warm against your hair. You felt his heartbeat quicken just a bit beneath your cheek. The silence between you was thick. to be noticed. You glanced up at him, your eyes catching his in the dim light. There was something softer there now. Something unspoken, but heavy. Without breaking eye contact, his hand moved to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering near your temple. Your breath hitched. He leaned down just a little, voice low and casual, “You’re beautiful.” You swallowed, barely able to meet his gaze as your face flushed again. Then, just like that, he closed the tiny gap between you. His lips found yours slow and gentle, before deepening the kiss, like he’d been wanting to do this all night. You melted into him, your hand slowly reaching up to rest on his chest as the world around you faded. It’s not gentle anymore, it’s urgent, needy. His hand tightens in your hair, pulling you closer as his tongue slides against yours, deep and demanding. You whimper softly, the sound lost in the press of his mouth, your body melting into his. He pulls back just enough to whisper in your ear, voice husky, “Wanna get out of here? I’ve got my car nearby.” Your heart pounds so hard you’re sure he can hear it. You just nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, breath catching again as he wraps his arm tighter around you.

He doesn’t rush you, just laces his fingers through yours, warm and firm, and gives your hand a gentle tug. You follow without thinking, legs shaky as you leave the balcony behind and slip back into the quiet hallway. The party feels distant now, like the world narrowed down to just him, the weight of his hand in yours, the aftertaste of his kiss still lingering on your lips. The walk to his car is quiet, but not awkward. When he unlocks the door and slides into the driver’s seat, you hesitate for half a second before slipping in beside him. The doors shut with a soft thud, sealing you both inside the low, warm hum of the vehicle. He leans back, legs stretched out, calm like always, but there’s a heat behind his eyes when he looks at you. A spark still flickering from earlier. “I’m gonna roll real quick,” he murmurs, pulling out his tray and grinder from the center console like it’s second nature. You nod, watching him work—his fingers nimble, methodical, the lighter’s flame briefly illuminating his face when he brings the blunt to his lips. The car fills with the earthy scent of smoke, and his head tilts back slightly as he exhales, half-lidded. He looks so fucking fine like this, bathed in shadows and smoke, hoodie loose around his collarbones, the faint red glow of the blunt lighting up his lips. Then he turns his head toward you again and you don’t even get the chance to fully catch your breath before he leans in again, free hand finding your cheek as he kisses you.

The smoke still lingers on his breath, and you melt into it, moaning softly into his mouth as his tongue slides against yours. His fingers are on your thigh, squeezing gently as he pulls you closer. The kiss turns messier, full of need, soft gasps and low groans echoing through the car. Your hand grips his hoodie low, holding on like you might fall apart if you let go. He pulls back only enough to whisper, breath ghosting over your lips, “Could do this all night.” Then his mouth is on yours again. More heat, more tongue, more breathless little noises spilling from your lips as your body starts to tremble in his hands. Without breaking the kiss, his hands move, one sliding up your thigh, the other settling on your waist. “C’mere,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice low but soft. You barely register what he means until his hands are guiding you, pulling you gently, firmly, right onto his lap. One leg at a time, knees sinking into the seat on either side of him, hands braced on his shoulders, your dress hiking up as you settle onto him, straddling him, face to face. He leans back just enough to look at you, eyes hooded, red from the weed, blunt still between his fingers. One of his hands slides up your side, fingers grazing your waist and ribs over the thin fabric of your dress. He takes his time with it, like he’s learning your shape. Your breath stutters as his hand travels higher, stopping just under your arm. He brings the blunt to his lips again, takes a long, slow hit, his chest rising beneath you, and then leans in close. His free hand curves around the back of your neck, guiding your face closer to his. You part your lips on instinct, and he exhales the smoke right into your mouth, warm and slow, curling over your tongue. Your eyes flutter shut as you breathe it in, heart thudding, and then he kisses you. Kisses you like he’s taking the air right back from your lungs.

Your breath catches when you feel his hands slide down, beneath the hem of your dress. He pushes it up slowly, bunching the fabric around your waist until the cool air hits your thighs. You shift slightly, nervous, thighs tightening around his hips as he exposes more of you. He doesn’t say anything, just stares for a second, eyes flicking down to where your panties are now visible, his palms firm on the back of your thighs. “Fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself. Then he leans forward, mouth finding your neck, and everything gets messier after that. He kisses down the side of your throat, open, warm, wet, his lips dragging along the skin, tongue flicking against your pulse point, teeth grazing just enough to make your hips twitch against him. You whimper quietly, trying to stay still, but he’s already pulling you closer with both hands, guiding your body into his like he knows exactly what you need. You tilt your head for him without thinking, shy sounds escaping your mouth as he works his way up to your jaw, then down again, kissing a little rougher now. “Weno…” you whisper, voice breaking around his name. “Shh,” he murmurs, his voice low against your skin. “You’re okay.” Your arms wrap around his shoulders instinctively, face burning as you shift in his lap, unintentionally grinding down just slightly. His reaction is immediate, a quiet groan right into your neck, his hands tightening on your hips. “Just like that,” he breathes.

Your hips grind down harder without thinking, breath coming out in shaky gasps as the friction starts to feel almost too good. His hands slip under the back of your dress, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass, guiding your movement like he needs it just as bad. You’re whimpering into the heated space between you, clinging to his hoodie, your body trembling slightly with every slow drag of your hips over his. Your panties are soaked. His pants are straining. The windows are fogging up, and the whole car smells like weed, sweat, and heat. He tilts his head, catching your mouth again in another deep, tongue-heavy kiss, like he can’t stop tasting you. His hand slides up your waist, grazing under the curve of your chest over the thin fabric of your dress, and you shudder, moaning softly into his mouth. Then he pulls back, just a little, resting his forehead against yours as both of you try to breathe. “Fuck,” he whispers, chest rising and falling beneath you. “You look so fucking pretty like this.” You blink at him, dazed, lips swollen and barely parted, still trying to catch your breath. He looks at you for a long second, hands still on your waist, grounding you. “I don’t wanna do this in the car,” he says, voice rough. “You deserve better than that.” Your breath hitches, heat flaring even higher at how serious he sounds. “Wanna go to my place?” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your side. You nod slowly, shy but needy, your fingers curling in the collar of his shirt, a little scared to let go. “Yeah,” you whisper, barely audible. “Okay.” He kisses you once more, soft and sweet, before pulling back just enough to reach for the keys.

The door shut with a quiet click, sealing you into the warmth of his place. It was dark, mostly, just the glow of a streetlamp slipping through the blinds, casting faint lines across the floor. Neither of you spoke. You turned slightly, lips parting like you might say something, but he was already reaching for you. His hands found your waist in the dark, pulling you in with no hesitation, and his mouth was on yours before you could even breathe. Kissing you hungrily, deep and needy. Everything he hadn’t said tonight was pouring out of him all at once, into the way he held you, the way his lips moved over yours. His grip was firm, hands splayed over your hips, your back arching into him as you kissed him back just as desperately. He walked you backwards without breaking the kiss, slow, steady steps through the short hallway, lips never leaving yours. You barely registered the corners of the space or how you ended up where you did until the back of your knees hit something soft. And then he was lowering you onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath you, and your breath caught as he hovered above you, eyes dark and steady on yours. Then, without a word, he zipped down his hoodie and took it off. Now just in a white tank, it clung to his frame in all the right places, the cut of his collarbone visible, shoulders broad and sharp under the light. He looked down at you for a second longer, breathing hard, gaze lingering on your face like he couldn’t believe you were really there. Then he leaned down, kissing you again, less rushed, but just as intense. His hands slid up your sides, fingertips ghosting over the fabric of your dress, moving deliberately, memorizing the shape of you. You whimpered softly into his mouth, fingers curling in the hem of his shirt. He pulled back for a second, eyes flicking between yours, voice low and wrecked. “You good?” he asked, forehead brushing yours. You nodded, cheeks burning, lips swollen already. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m good.”

He didn’t wait long after your answer. His mouth moved to your neck, warm and open, lips brushing your skin before he started kissing, slow, deliberate, dragging his tongue gently along the curve of your throat. You gasped, breath hitching as he sucked softly at a spot just below your jaw. Then again, a little lower. Your hips twitched beneath him when you felt his teeth graze you. “Weno—” you whispered, but it came out as more of a breath than a word. “You’re so pretty” he murmured, voice barely there, like he was talking to himself. “Always are.” His hand moved down slowly, slipping over your waist and along the outside of your thigh before sliding back up under the hem of your dress. His touch was patient, teasing, he didn’t rush. Just let his fingertips brush along the top of your thigh, higher and higher until they were tracing the edge of your panties. He pushed the fabric of your underwear to the side, slowly, and let his fingers slide between your folds, touching your bare heat. You gasped, head tilting back into the pillow, lips parting in a silent moan. “Shit,” he whispered, breath warm against your collarbone. “So soaked f’me, baby.” Your cheeks burned, thighs tensing slightly around his hand. He kissed the hollow of your throat, then lower, just above your chest, tongue wet and warm as his fingers began to move—slow circles at first, barely-there pressure that made you squirm beneath him. His free hand gripped your waist, holding you steady like he could feel how close you already were, how much you wanted him. “You’re so sensitive,” he muttered, voice deep and low, teeth grazing your skin as he kissed up to your ear.

You whimpered his name, hips grinding into his hand without meaning to. His fingers never stopped moving, dragging slick circles against your clit as he kept his mouth on your neck. Every kiss felt more urgent, but not rushed. It wasn’t just lust. It was something else. Something heavier. And then he leaned up, lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think about you all the time,” he murmured, breath warm, fingers still teasing between your thighs. “Even when I’m not supposed to. Even when I try not to.” Your heart flipped, aching at how raw it sounded coming from him. “I don’t even think you know what you do to me,” he continued, a soft kiss behind your ear. “How long I’ve wanted you like this. Letting me touch you.” The words hit harder than anything else had—deeper than the kisses, deeper than his touch. Your chest tightened, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers slid into his hair, pulling him down until your lips met again. Your moans melted into his mouth, the rhythm of his fingers picking up as your hips rolled up into his hand. His other hand gripped your thigh, spreading you wider for him.

And then, without warning, he shifted his hand lower, deeper. Your lips parted in a quiet gasp as he slid one finger inside you, slow and careful. Your walls clenched around the intrusion, already aching from how worked up you were, how long he’d been teasing. He didn’t wait long before easing in a second finger, stretching you just a little more. His movements were smooth, curling them up inside you just right, drawing out whiny, breathless little sounds from your throat you couldn’t hold back. You buried your face in his shoulder, hands gripping his bicep, your hips rocking involuntarily into every slow thrust of his fingers. He moved deep and steady, his palm pressing into you, thumb dragging lazy circles over your clit in rhythm. He kept moving inside you, slow and deep, curling just right. You were so close, the tension winding tighter and tighter in your stomach, breath catching with every stroke. But just as your legs began to shake, just as your hips bucked up into his hand with a quiet, desperate moan—he pulled out. You whined at the loss, hips stuttering forward instinctively, chasing the friction. “Weno…” “I know,” he murmured, breathless himself, voice thick with need. “I know, baby.” He leaned back just enough to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere to the side. The soft light coming through the cracked door hit his chest just right—shoulders broad, abs toned, skin flushed and warm. His chain shifted against his skin when he moved.

Then he was reaching for you again, hands gentle. “Can I?” he asked, fingers brushing the hem of your dress. You nodded, cheeks hot, eyes wide and dazed. “Y-Yeah” He pulled it up slowly, lifting it over your head. His eyes dropped to your body as it was revealed to him—bare chest, soft skin, rising and falling with every shaky breath. He leaned his mouth to your nipple, giving it a soft suck while sliding your panties down your legs, dragging his hands along your thighs as he did. Then he moved lower. He settled between your legs like he belonged there, hands spreading your thighs gently, thumbs brushing along the inside. You whimpered, body already arching at the sight of him down there, the feel of his breath ghosting over your skin. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, more to himself than anything, eyes locked on your soaked center. And then he leaned in. His tongue was warm, slow, one long, deliberate lick up your folds that made your back arch off the bed. Then again, this time with more pressure, more intent. His mouth locked over your clit, sucking softly before he flattened his tongue and circled it. You gasped, hands flying to his hair, fingers tangling as your thighs tried to close around his head. He just groaned into you, gripping your hips and pulling you closer, keeping you wide open for him. The sounds—wet, messy, sinful—filled the room along with your breathy moans, soft whimpers, the quiet creak of the mattress beneath you.

He didn’t stop. His tongue moved with purpose, lapping, circling, flicking. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but moan, soft and desperate, your hips twitching with every stroke of his tongue. And then you felt his hand again. Sliding up the inside of your thigh, fingers trailing through your slick folds before one dipped inside you, curling instantly. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry. He added a second immediately, stretching you and pumping into you while his mouth never left your clit. “Weno—fuck,” you whimpered, body jolting as he curled his fingers just right. Your walls clenched around him, needy and tight. His groan vibrated through you when he felt it. His tongue pressed harder, fingers pumping deep and slow—each drag of his knuckles making your toes curl. Your moans got higher, breathier, as your body trembled under his touch. “You close, baby?” he muttered against your clit, fingers never slowing. “Wanna feel you cum on my fuckin’ fingers.” You nodded, frantic, too far gone to speak. Your back arched, thighs shaking as he held you open, ruined you with his mouth, pushed his fingers deep inside you until the heat building in your stomach finally snapped. You came hard, legs trembling, hips stuttering, a loud moan spilling from your lips as everything clenched and pulsed around him. Fingers still working you gently through it while his tongue slowed, easing the intensity but never leaving you empty. Weno pressed one last kiss to your thigh, lips lingering as he pulled his fingers from you slowly, savoring the way your body jolted at the loss. He sat back on his heels, chest rising and falling a little faster now, eyes heavy as they dragged up your body.

You watched, dazed, flushed, and breathless as he reached for the waistband of his cargos, unbuttoning and sliding them down. They hit the floor with a quiet thud, leaving him in just his boxers—black, stretched tight over the obvious bulge straining against the fabric. He palmed it slowly, eyes still fixed on you, thumb pressing down over the thick outline like it ached. You squirmed beneath him, breath catching again when he leaned forward, caging you in with his arms. He kissed you slow and deep, tongue sliding over yours, moaning into your mouth. Then he reached between you and pushed his boxers down just enough to free himself, hissing softly when his length sprang free and brushed against your thigh. “You still good?” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours, his thumb caressing your cheek. You nodded, voice caught in your throat. “Yeah… I want you.” That was all he needed. He reached down, guiding himself to your entrance, dragging the tip through your slick folds, teasing you both with the heat of it. His hand found your waist again, grounding you as he pushed in slowly—inch by inch, thick and hot and stretching you just right. You gasped, nails digging into his biceps, body arching as he filled you completely.“Fuck,” he breathed out against your mouth, kissing you again as he bottomed out. “So tight. So good.” He didn’t move right away. Just stayed there, buried deep, letting you adjust while he pressed soft kisses to your jaw, your cheek, your lips. His hands smoothed over your sides, grounding you. And then he started to move.

He started slow and deep, rolling thrusts that dragged every inch of him along your walls. Your body clung to him, welcoming each stroke like it had been waiting, aching, for this exact moment. His hands moved down your sides, palms warm and firm, before sliding under your thighs to hitch your legs higher around his waist. The new angle made you gasp, your head falling back into the pillow as he sank even deeper. “That’s it,” he whispered, voice all breath and gravel, “So fucking perfect like this.” You whimpered, lips parting with every slow rock of his hips, every soft press of his chest to yours. One of his hands slipped under your back, pulling you closer, the other traveling to cup your breast, squeezing gently, thumb circling your nipple. “Love your body,” he murmured against your skin, lips brushing your collarbone. “Every inch. All mine now, yeah?” You could only nod, breath shaky, heart pounding. He moved again—long, deep thrusts that made your thighs tremble around him, that had you clinging tighter to his shoulders, trying to ground yourself in his touch. “So fuckin’ good,” he groaned, kissing your neck, “Fuck—look at how you take me.” He slid his hand down to your ass, gripping it tightly, pulling you up into each thrust, letting you feel just how hard he was holding back. You cried out softly, tears blurring your vision as the heat coiled tighter and tighter inside you. You felt stretched, full…loved. Every part of him was on you, in you, his lips, his hands, his voice. He slowed for just a second, chest heaving as he looked down at you.

His hand cradled your jaw, thumb brushing your lip as he whispered, “No one’s ever made me feel like this.” You blinked, another tear slipping free. He caught it with a kiss. He pushed in deep again, groaning low as your body clenched around him. Your eyes fluttered shut as your lips parted in a sob, overwhelmed. The pleasure, the emotion—it was too much, and not enough. You gasped out his name, voice broken, tears spilling freely now. “You’re doin’ so good,” he breathed, kissing the corner of your mouth. “So good for me. You feel so fuckin’ good—can’t get enough of you, baby.” He cupped your breast again, his other hand squeezing your ass as he rocked deeper, firmer, filling you completely with every thrust. The mattress creaked beneath you, skin slapping, breathy moans and whimpers. He lift your legs higher, folding them up toward your chest as his hands slid beneath your knees, guiding you open. His body shifted with yours, hovering close, his chest pressing to yours as he settled into the new position. You were utterly vulnerable, and so full. “Fuck,” he breathed as he pushed back in—deeper, impossibly deep, the new angle hitting something inside you that made your mouth fall open in a silent gasp. Your thighs trembled against his sides, your arms wrapping tight around his shoulders as he rocked into you again, slow and hard. His face was right above yours, eyes dark, mouth parted, breath hot on your cheek. His forehead pressed to yours. You pulled him down, fingers tangling in his hair, and kissed him hard, messy, open-mouthed, desperate. You sobbed into the kiss, the pleasure blurring everything, making your whole body feel like it was about to break apart in the best way.

He moaned against your mouth, thrusts picking up just slightly, deeper and deeper, hips pressing you into the mattress. One of his hands cradled your cheek as the other gripped under your thigh, holding you open for him while his body kept driving into yours, filling you perfectly. “You feel like heaven,” he whispered, kissing along your jaw between gasps. “So good for me, baby… fuck.” Your body clenched tight around him, your moans turning into cries as your nails dug into his back. “Weno— I’m close, I—please,” you gasped, barely able to form the words through the sobs that kept catching in your throat. “I got you,” he panted, hips grinding down, pace relentless now. “Cum for me, baby. Wanna feel you.” It only took another stroke. One more hit just right, and you shattered. Your second orgasm came, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your back arched, tears slipping down your cheeks as you sobbed his name, legs shaking violently around him. You clung to him like he was the only thing tethering you to earth. “Shit—baby—fuck—” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut as your body pulsed around him. “So good. So fucking good.” He barely lasted another few thrusts before he was pulling out quickly, stroking himself through the last moments, his body jerking forward with a final moan as he spilled across your stomach, thick and warm. He collapsed onto his forearms above you, forehead to yours again, breath ragged, lips ghosting yours.

He was still above you, body trembling slightly as he caught his breath, his lips brushing yours in soft, lingering kisses that felt more like confessions than touches. You were trying to breathe too, heart racing, chest rising and falling as your mind spun. Every nerve in your body was still alive, aching with how full he made you feel—physically, emotionally, all of it. And yet, even in the quiet after, something heavy sat in your chest. You swallowed hard, fingers fidgeting at his sides, your eyes darting everywhere but his face. You could feel it pressing against your tongue—those words—so big and so terrifying, but so real. Too real to keep inside. “Weno…?” you whispered, voice barely audible. He blinked down at you, soft and hazy from the afterglow. “Yeah, baby?” Your lip trembled as you looked up at him, wide-eyed and afraid. “I… I think I’m in love with you.” The second the words left your mouth, your stomach dropped. You felt exposed, like you’d stripped yourself bare in a whole new way. Your eyes filled with panic—what if he didn’t feel the same? What if this ruined everything? “I—I’m sorry,” you added quickly, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to ruin it, I just—fuck, I don’t know, I just feel so much and I couldn’t keep it in and—” He cut you off with a kiss. Not a soft one, not a careful one, but deep, sure. His hand cupped your face as he leaned into you, kissing you like he needed to feel every word you’d just said on his tongue.

When he finally pulled back, his thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching the little tear that had escaped down your cheek. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he whispered. “You could never ruin anything.” Your heart fluttered painfully. “I’ve been in love with you,” he said, voice a little hoarse. “Since before I even knew what to call it. You don’t scare me, baby. You’re the only thing that’s ever made sense.” He kissed you again, tender. His hands wrapped around you, pulling you close until your body was pressed to his, skin to skin, and you could barely breathe from how tight he held you. You buried your face in his neck, arms tucked between your chests, your heart pounding against his. The silence that followed was heavy with warmth—safe, soft. Eventually, he shifted just enough to reach for the blunt on his nightstand, lighting it with a quiet flick of his lighter. The glow lit up his face in soft orange as he took a long drag, exhaling with a sigh, head tilted back slightly. You curled into him, cheek pressed to his chest, ear catching the steady thrum of his heartbeat. His arm came around you instinctively, holding you tighter, and his hand drifted lazily into your hair, fingers combing through the strands. You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to. He held you like he was never letting go.

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[starvrse]

GIRL, SO CONFUSING

part one here !

pairing : kim minjeong (winter) x fem!reader

summary : a messy breakup. one unexpected visit. too many feelings left unsaid and one kiss that ruins the silence.

warnings : toxic relationship dynamics, sexual content, sorta kinda angst idk, g!p winter, baby trapping mention, etc.

unnecessary bs : like 9k words, lowkey lost brain power half way thru

your alarm goes off at 9:30.

too early, too bright, and way too loud for the kind of night you had.

you groan, slap at your phone until it shuts up, and flop back against your pillow with a dramatic sigh. your body aches, not physically, but like… emotionally. like your soul went through a breakup again last night.

your phone lights up in your hand.

2 missed calls

3 messages

you blink.

and then you really blink.

[6:12 a.m.] minjeong: are you awake

[6:25 a.m.] minjeong: i shouldn’t have said that shit

[6:49 a.m.] minjeong: can you pick up the phone for once

your stomach flips, you swipe up and open the call log.

missed call — minjeong (6:13 a.m.)

missed call — minjeong (6:49 a.m.)

your finger hovers over her name. again. always.

you don’t even know what she would’ve said. what you would’ve said.

last night, you felt strong. stubborn. like you could finally cut the cord. but now? in the daylight, in your messy room, with the ghost of her voice still haunting your ears? you’re not so sure.

you toss the phone face down on the bed like it might bite you.

a second later, you flip it back over.

typical.

you open her last message again. stare at it.

“can you pick up the phone for once”

you should text back something clever. petty. cold. instead you lie back and just… stare at the ceiling, heart hammering, throat dry. because part of you wants to call her back, and part of you wants to pretend she never reached out.

you reach for your charger, and the second you plug your phone in—it lights up again.

incoming call: minjeong.

your breath catches.

she’s calling you again.

what now? answer? decline? let it ring?

you stare at the screen, the ringtone keeps playing, so does your heartbeat, you don’t even remember making the decision. your thumb just moves and you answer her call.

“…hello?”

there’s silence, a breath. then—

“you answered,” minjeong says, like she wasn’t expecting you to, like she already played out the rejection in her head.

“yeah, well,” you mumble, shifting under the blanket, “you called three times. it’s either important or you lost the last two brain cells you had left.”

she snorts. it’s quiet, a little raspy—like she didn’t sleep either.

good.

“i didn’t lose anything,” she says. “i just… i wanted to talk to you. when you weren’t looking at me like you hated me.”

you go quiet and your jaw tightens. not because she’s wrong, but because she’s right.

you hated her last night, or you wanted to.

same thing.

“…you said some fucked up things,” you say finally, voice low.

“i know,” she says. no hesitation. “i was pissed. i was—jealous. seeing you with those guys made me want to put my head through a wall.”

“you don’t get to do that anymore, minjeong,” you say, harsher than you meant to. “you don’t get to act like you own me just because you got feelings.”

“i do own you,” she snaps back, and it’s instinctive, reckless, the kind of thing that would’ve made you melt six months ago.

you go still.

“minjeong—”

“i know,” she says again, softer this time. “i know. fuck. i didn’t mean it like that.”

you press a hand to your face. this is already going downhill and it’s been two minutes. “you can’t keep doing this,” you whisper. “you come back, you kiss me, you call me a whore, and now you’re—what? apologizing? again?”

she goes quiet, you can hear her breathing on the other end and it’s shaky.

“i don’t want you with anyone else,” she says finally. “i know i don’t deserve to say that. but i’m saying it anyway.”

your throat tightens, and for a second, you think you might cry. but instead you close your eyes and swallow it down. “…you don’t get to say that. not after everything. not when i’m just trying to move on.”

“so is that what last night was? moving on?” her voice sharpens. “you grinded on two guys, kissed me like you meant it, and walked away. is that what moving on looks like to you?”

you exhale. slow. trembling.

“i don’t know what it was,” you admit. “i was drunk. you were there. i’m tired. and you make everything worse.”

the line goes silent again. but this time, it’s different.

“are you gonna hang up?” she asks. you don’t answer right away, you wish you knew. the silence stretches between you both—tight, uncomfortable. and minjeong knows exactly what to do with it.

“…i haven’t slept.”

you roll your eyes, letting out a soft scoff. “that’s not my problem.”

“i know.” her voice drops, quieter now. “i just… i kept thinking about you. your face. your laugh. your lipstick on my mouth.” you squeeze your eyes shut, hand balling the blanket in your fist. “minjeong…”

“i miss you so bad it makes me feel sick,” she says, and her voice cracks like she did cry last night. maybe still is. “i swear i tried not to call. i told myself to leave you alone. but i couldn’t. i can’t.”

your throat tightens, but you keep your voice cold. “and what? now you want me to feel bad for you?”

“no,” she says quickly. “no, i just… want to be near you. just for a little while. i won’t touch you. i swear. i’ll sit on the floor if you want.”

you blink, stunned. “…what?”

“i’ll sit on the floor. or outside. or like—in your hallway. i just wanna see you.”

“you sound insane,” you whisper.

“i am insane,” she says, a miserable little laugh bubbling out. “you made me insane.”

you rub your forehead, torn between hanging up and melting into the mattress. “it’s like, ten in the morning, minjeong.”

“and?” she sounds so pitiful. “please, yn. just for an hour. i’ll leave after. i just—i just wanna see your face without you walking away this time.”

you bite your lip. god, she’s awful. manipulative. toxic. and it’s working. because you miss her too, and you hate that you do. “fine,” you whisper, heart pounding. “an hour.” you hear her exhale, shaky like relief punched her in the chest. “i’ll be there in ten.”

you hang up without saying anything, drop your phone on your chest, stare at the ceiling, and say a silent prayer that you won’t end up in tears by noon.

you won’t let her get to you, won’t let her crawl back in. not again.

probably.

-

ten minutes. that’s all it takes. you barely have time to brush your hair and throw on a hoodie before your phone buzzes again.

minjeong: i’m outside

you stare at the message, your stomach flips, and your hand twitches. you should ignore it. let her sit there. let her suffer a little. but instead, you’re already walking to the door. already unlocking it.

and there she is. hood up, hands in the pockets of her jacket, hair messy in the way that means she definitely didn’t sleep, and eyes locked on yours the second you open the door.

“hey,” she says, like this is casual. like this isn’t insane. like she didn’t call you a bitch and then beg to sit on your floor this morning.

you fold your arms across your chest. “you’ve got fifty-nine minutes.”

she smiles a little. not cocky. not smug. just soft. like she’s grateful to even be breathing your air. “that’s more than enough.”

you step aside and let her in, your eyes trailing after her as she walks in slow, like she’s scared she’ll scare you off. or maybe she’s just being dramatic. either way, it works.

she stops in the middle of your room. doesn’t sit. doesn’t touch anything.

“you look tired.” she says.

“wonder why.”

she hums, gives you a once-over that’s subtle but definitely not innocent. “you still look good though.”

“flattery’s not gonna work.” you warn, leaning against the wall. she turns, facing you fully now. “it’s not flattery. it’s the truth.”

you roll your eyes, but your face is already heating.

“i meant what i said on the phone,” she murmurs, voice softer now. “i was jealous. and stupid. i didn’t mean what i said, yn.”

“you said a lot of things,” you mutter.

“i know. and none of them were true.” she takes a step closer. “you’re not a whore. you’re not gross. i was just—i didn’t know how to handle seeing you with someone else. i panicked. i said what would hurt. i didn’t mean it.”

you look away. the sincerity in her voice is dangerous. it makes your throat tight again. “why does it always take you blowing up for you to realize how much you care?” you ask quietly.

minjeong’s eyes flicker. she steps closer. another inch. just enough that you can smell her shampoo. she tilts her head, voice dropping. “because i don’t know how to be calm about you.”

your breath catches.

“i tried,” she continues. “i tried ignoring it. pretending i didn’t still think about you every night. but then i saw you, and it was like—fuck. like everything snapped back. i couldn’t breathe.”

you bite your lip. “so now you’re here. what do you want?”

she smiles, slow and soft and dangerous. “to hold you. maybe kiss you. but only if you let me.”

you narrow your eyes. “you said you’d sit on the floor.”

she grins, sweet like sugar but her voice dips low. “baby, i’d kneel if it meant touching you again.”

your heart slams against your ribs. she’s not yelling, she’s not demanding, she’s not the minjeong from last night. but she’s still got that fire under her skin, barely contained. and it’s pulling you in again.

you hate her. you want her.

you don’t move. “fifty minutes left,” you say.

her smile turns smug, even as her tone stays soft. “more than enough.”

minjeong doesn’t move closer, yet. she knows better.

instead, she lets herself sink onto the edge of your bed like she’s scared it’ll disappear if she shifts too fast. like she’s still trying to play sweet. innocent.

you don’t move. arms crossed, sleeves swallowing your hands. “so?” you say, quiet, but firm. like you’re daring her to say the wrong thing.

“so,” she repeats, picking at a thread on your comforter, not looking at you. “are we gonna talk or are you gonna glare at me for the next fifty minutes?”

you roll your eyes, but you sit at the very corner of the bed anyway, still keeping a solid three feet between you.

“talk then.”

minjeong nods. doesn’t look at you yet. “…i keep thinking about the day we broke up,” she says suddenly, quiet. “the way you looked at me after i ripped your clothes, ruined your room… i’ve never seen you look at me like that.”

your throat tightens. “yeah. well. you were psycho that day.”

“i know,” she says, soft. “and it’s not an excuse, but… i think i was scared. like, really scared. you were so happy without me that week. so free. and i felt like i was fading out of your life.”

you scoff under your breath. “you made sure to burn the bridge, just in case, huh?”

she finally looks up, and fuck do you hate the way her eyes soften when they meet yours. “i thought if i could hurt you first, it’d make leaving easier.”

you look away.

the silence stretches. she lets it.

“…do you still hate me?” she asks after a moment.

“depends on the day.”

“and today?”

you glance at her.

she’s leaning slightly forward now, elbows on her knees, fingers laced. watching you with that careful, gentle look, like she’s trying not to scare you off.

“today i’m trying really hard not to let you win.”

her mouth twitches. not quite a smile. not yet.

“but you’re letting me stay.”

“you begged.”

“you answered.”

you shoot her a glare. she shrugs.

“i’m not trying to win, yn. i’m just… trying to be here. with you.”

“you say that now,” you mutter. “but give it a week and you’ll be in my dms with some other girl’s profile picture under your likes.”

her face drops just a little. a flicker of guilt, of shame.

“i’m not proud of that,” she says. “but i swear—i wasn’t trying to replace you. i was trying to forget you.”

your chest clenches. it’s way too quiet in the room. minjeong takes a slow breath. and then, finally, she scoots a little closer.

“i don’t want to forget you anymore.”

you stare at her, and you wish—wish—you didn’t want her to be saying all this. but you do. and she knows it.

“just one hug,” she murmurs. “i promise. then i’ll go.”

you hesitate, your arms stay crossed but your body leans, just slightly.

her voice stays low, soft enough to break you. “please?”

god, you’re weak.

you sigh, uncross your arms, and finally let her pull you in. her arms wrap around you like she never let go in the first place. and for a second, you don’t hate it, you just breathe. and she holds on. you shouldn’t let her hold you this long, you shouldn’t let her hold you at all.

but you’re curled into her chest, hoodie bunched in her fists, and her cheek is pressed against your temple like she’s scared you’ll disappear again. then quietly, right next to your ear, she starts talking.

“i used to dream about this,” she murmurs, voice low, warm. “you coming back. letting me touch you again.”

you tense slightly, but her arms tighten around your waist, not enough to trap, just enough to stay.

“i’d wake up in the middle of the night thinking i heard you laughing in the kitchen,” she says. “i’d check my phone every morning hoping you’d text me.” you swallow, eyes closing.

“i know i was fucked up,” she whispers, breath brushing your skin. “i was angry. jealous. scared. but not once did i stop loving you. not even when i said the worst shit. not even when i pretended i hated you.”

her hand moves—slow, delicate—up and down your back.

“i didn’t want you with those guys last night because i knew they wouldn’t treat you like you deserve,” she murmurs. “they don’t know how to handle you.”

you shift, uncomfortable.

but her voice is soft. syrupy. sweet like poison.

“they don’t know how to love you right,” she says. “they’d fuck you and forget you. i could never do that. i’ve memorized you. i could find your heartbeat in a blackout.”

you shiver at her words.

she leans in closer, lips brushing your jaw now. “i love you, yn,” she breathes. “no one else comes close. no one ever will.”

your heart’s in your throat. your hands are still gripping the back of her hoodie like you’re afraid letting go will break the spell.

she pulls back just enough to look at you. “tell me you don’t want me and i’ll leave,” she says softly. “right now.”

you stare at her. you should say it. you could. but the words don’t come.

and she’s already smiling, so sure of herself. so smug in the gentlest way. “that’s what i thought.” she whispers. she leans in again, slower this time, like she knows you’re already gone.

you hate how quiet it is in the room, you hate how close she is, how warm her hands are, how soft her voice got the second she knew you were cracking, but mostly, you hate how much you missed her.

you look up at her, eyes locked, breath held, and for a second neither of you moves. you’re waiting for her to lean in, she’s waiting for you to break. and you do. just a little.

you press forward, lips brushing hers—so light you barely feel it.

not desperate. not messy. just soft.

like you’re remembering something, like you’re mourning it at the same time.

minjeong doesn’t move. doesn’t push it further. she just breathes, her fingers still resting on your waist, eyes fluttering shut for half a second before they open again.

you pull back. your face burns. your heart is thudding too loud. “that didn’t mean anything,” you mumble. she nods slowly, still watching you too closely. “okay,” she whispers. “then do it again.”

you scoff, push her shoulder, but you’re already looking away to hide the way your mouth wants to smile. she leans her forehead against yours. “you missed me,” she says quietly.

“shut up.” “you did.”

you don’t answer. you don’t have to. she’s already got you back in her arms and this time, you’re not pulling away.

you’re still close enough to hear her breathe. her arms are around you. your nose is nearly brushing hers. and that kiss—

you’re not even thinking straight anymore. just warmth, her voice in your ear, her eyes on your lips.

then your phone buzzes. loud. sharp. obnoxious. you both freeze.

the ringtone keeps going, echoing through the room like a slap. you lean back, blinking like you just woke up from something.

minjeong’s arms stay locked around your waist. “don’t answer,” she says quickly, voice low.

you glance at the screen.

ningie

you bite your lip, torn. “it’s ning.”

“i figured.” she exhales through her nose. “just call her back later.”

“she’s probably checking on me,” you murmur.

“you’re fine.”

you hesitate again, she’s looking at you like this is life or death. you know what she wants. but your thumb’s already sliding across the screen.

“hey,” you say, pressing the phone to your ear and standing up. minjeong’s arms drop away, her expression instantly shifting, lips pressed tight, jaw tense.

“bitch,” ningning says, not even hello, “are you alive? you said you were gonna update me and then you disappeared.”

“i’m okay,” you whisper, pacing a little away. “i just got… caught up.”

“caught up with who?”

you glance behind you. minjeong is sitting on the bed, arms crossed, jaw tense, glaring holes into the back of your phone. “…just someone,” you mumble.

“yn.”

you wince.

“if you’re with winter i swear to god—”

“ning,” you interrupt quickly, “please. don’t do this right now.”

“so i’m right??”

you don’t say anything.

“are you kidding? did you already forget she tried to fuck you outside the club last night?”

you sigh, tugging your sleeve over your hand. “we’re just talking.”

“uh huh. and what? kissing too, apparently?”

you don’t answer.

ningning groans. “you are so unserious. you are so—”

you hang up, and minjeong is glaring.

“really?”

you raise an eyebrow. “she was worried.”

“you let her ruin our moment,” she mutters.

“our moment?”

“we were being cuddly.”

“you looked sad. i was being nice.”

she narrows her eyes.

you just smile, walking back over and grabbing the hem of your hoodie. “you’ve got, like, thirty minutes left.”

she watches you pull it over your head like it’s a crime against humanity.

“you gonna be annoying the whole time?” you ask.

“you hugged me,” she grinned , smug now. “and you’re blushing.”

“you’re still on thin ice.”

“so we’re not fighting anymore?”

you pause, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “…we’re taking a break.” she grins at those words. “like a halftime?” you roll your eyes. “careful,” you mutter, walking past her toward the door, “you might make it to the second half.

minjeong doesn’t follow right away. you hear her shuffle behind you—feet dragging on the floor like she’s trying to buy herself a second longer in your space before the next thing happens. like she’s scared she’ll ruin it if she moves too fast again.

you head into the kitchen, flip the kettle on, mostly just to have something to do with your hands. your face is still warm. your lips still tingle.

you hear her footsteps before you feel her presence, quiet, cautious, and entirely too familiar. she stops at the edge of the kitchen, leaning against the wall like she’s testing the waters. “want me to make the tea?” she offers, a little too sweet.

you raise a brow. “you don’t know how.”

“i could learn.”

you shoot her a look. “this isn’t the time for bonding activities.”

she pouts—yes, pouts—and you look away before your mouth curls again. the silence creeps back in. it’s not awkward. just heavy. she speaks again, softer this time. “you didn’t ask me to leave.”

you glance up from your mug. “i was waiting for you to offer.” you reply. she smiles. “never gonna happen.” you shake your head, but you don’t argue.

you pour the hot water into two mugs. hand her one without a word. she takes it like it’s a peace offering.

minjeong stares into her mug for a beat. then, quieter: “you know, if it were me… and someone treated you like i did last night… i wouldn’t let them back in.”

your throat tightens. “it’s not you.”

she looks up.

you meet her eyes. “you’re the one i let back in.”

her mouth parts, just a little. like she wasn’t expecting that. like she doesn’t deserve it. (which, arguably, she doesn’t.)

“thank you,” she says, voice small. you take a sip of your tea, half to avoid responding, you’re already in too deep. she steps closer again. slow. slow enough for you to say stop.

you don’t.

you sigh and nod toward the stool across from you. “sit before you fall over.” she smirks. “yes, ma’am.”

“don’t start.”

“yes, ma’am,” she repeats, even softer, gaze sparkling. you give her a glare that holds absolutely no weight, and she knows it. you hate that she knows it. you sip again. she mirrors you. there’s a small pause.

then she breaks the silence.

“what did you tell ningning?”

you blink. minjeong’s tone isn’t mean. but it’s not neutral, either. you tilt your head, watching her carefully. “why?”

“just wondering.” she shrugs. “she hates me. i’m assuming you didn’t say i was here because you missed me.” you hum. “i told her we were talking.” she looks at you. just looks. but there’s something under it. something ugly. possessive. flickering in the dark behind her eyes.

“…and?”

“and nothing.”

“you didn’t say anything else?”

you set your mug down, lips tightening. “what are you getting at?”

“nothing,” she says quickly, smiling too sharp. “just… wondering how honest you were being.”

you stare.

her jaw ticks.

you raise a brow.

“you’re literally in my house,” you say flatly. “you really want to pick a fight again?”

she looks away, sips her tea, and for once, miraculously she backs off. “…no,” she mutters. “i don’t.”

you both go quiet again.

until, a moment later, she leans forward, elbows on the counter, eyes all over your face. “you gonna let me stay after the hour’s up?” you pretend to think, and she pouts again. “ynnn,” she whines softly. “you’re not really kicking me out at eleven, right?”

“depends.”

“on?”

“how good you behave.”

her grin is immediate. smug. obnoxious. “you want me to be good?”

you glare.

“you want me to be so good?”

“you want to be back outside?”

minjeong laughs, soft and warm, and you try—really try—not to smile again. but you do. just a little.

-

the two of you are quiet for a while.

the movie plays in the background, something low and familiar, but neither of you are really watching. you’re curled into one corner of the couch, arms hugging your knees. minjeong’s on the other end, legs stretched out, hand resting somewhere near your ankle. you should move it. but you don’t.

her voice cuts through the quiet, soft and low. “i missed this.”

you barely turn your head. “what?”

“this. us. being here with you.”

your eyes drop to the edge of your blanket, fingers picking at the stitching. minjeong’s staring at the screen now, but it’s clear she’s not seeing any of it. “i used to think about this all the time,” she murmurs. “what it’d be like if i came back. if you let me in.”

you say nothing, and she lets the silence linger.

and almost like a whisper, “you miss everything when you lose it.” you say. it’s quiet, not bitter. just true.

her lips part slightly, but she doesn’t speak.

your eyes flick toward her. “it’s easy to miss something when it’s not yours anymore.”

“you’re not a thing.”

“you didn’t treat me like a person,” you respond. calm. even.

she swallows hard, and the silence comes back. thicker now. heavier.

and she shifts just slightly closer—carefully, like she knows she’s walking on broken glass. “…i’m trying,” she whispers. “i’m trying to be better.”

“good.” your voice is still soft, still unreadable. “you should.”

her hand moves inch by inch until it’s resting gently over your ankle again. not gripping, just touching.

“i don’t want to lose this again.”

you look at her, really look at her, and she’s not smug now. not grinning. not acting like she’s won. she’s just… there.

bare faced, bare voiced. honest.

you let out a slow breath, gaze falling to where her hand rests against your skin. “then don’t fuck it up,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. her nod is immediate—quiet, almost reverent. “i won’t.” and for once, just for a fleeting second, you let her believe it. you shift slightly, her hand still warm and steady over your ankle, like she’s afraid to let go.

your eyes stay fixed on the tv, tone low but clear. “we’re not getting back together.” her head snaps toward you. “what?” you glance over—not harsh, not distant, just steady. “this doesn’t mean everything’s okay,” you say. “you’re here because i let you in. not because i want to pretend like none of it happened.”

minjeong blinks, caught off guard. “i know,” she says quickly. “i didn’t mean—I’m not trying to rush you.”

“you don’t get to win me back with one hug and a movie,” you add, arms still wrapped around your knees. “it doesn’t work like that.”

she swallows. nods. “okay. yeah. i get it.”

“i’m still mad.”

“i know.”

“and hurt.”

her voice drops. “i know.”

you look at her again. “so don’t get comfortable.”

her gaze doesn’t waver. “i’m not.”

you raise an eyebrow.

“okay, maybe a little,” she mumbles, glancing around your living room like she’s letting herself remember the walls and corners she used to call hers. “but i know i don’t deserve to be.”

you hum, resting your chin on your knee.

another long silence.

and suddenly—

“you’re really not gonna let me kiss you again?” she asks, half a smile tugging at her lips.

“you’re really testing that thin ice,” you warn.

“just checking.”

you try to fight the smile tugging at your lips for what feels like the hundredth time today.

-

the time passes slower than it should, tension in the air thickening as the minutes drag on. you feel the weight of her presence, the way she watches you from the corner of your eye like she’s studying every movement.

it’s strange.

but then again, everything about this situation is strange. the way she’s so close without actually touching you, like she’s waiting for permission. like she’s waiting for you to break.

and maybe you’re already cracked.

you’re not sure when it happens. maybe it’s the way she says your name. or the quiet, unspoken thing between you two—the pull that’s always been there, even when you tried to ignore it.

one second, she’s leaning in, lips brushing the side of your cheek.

the next, she’s got you in her lap, your legs straddling her waist, her arms tight around you as she pulls you in for another kiss.

it’s not fast. not desperate.

just slow. careful. testing, like she’s making sure you’re not going to pull away. and when you don’t, when you let her deepen it, she gives a quiet exhale into your mouth.

her hands move—one cupping your jaw, the other trailing down your back, holding you there like she’s not sure you’ll stay.

your fingers tangle in her hair, tugging her closer. your heart races as the kiss deepens, slow and deliberate. her body shifts beneath you, hands sliding up your sides, pulling you even closer until there’s no space between you two.

you pull back for a second, breathing hard, eyes flicking to her lips “you’re dangerous,” you murmur, voice shaking.

“you like it,” she whispers back, her lips brushing yours again.

and you do. you hate how much you like it.

the tension snaps when she tilts her head, kissing you again, softer this time, gentler, like she’s cherishing it.

it feels familiar. the way she holds you. the way she makes you forget everything else.

her hands move to the back of your shirt, tugging it up just enough to feel the warmth of your skin, and then she pulls you even closer, like she’s trying to keep you there.

you can feel your pulse in your ears, in the way your chest presses against hers, in the way your hands shake just a little.

the world could fall apart right now and you wouldn’t care.

for a second, it’s just her and you. nothing else.

and you don’t think you want to let go.

the kiss is different this time. slower, softer, minjeong isn’t rushing, isn’t pressing you against the wall like she did outside the club, her hands tight and demanding. this time, she’s careful, like she’s trying to savor every second, every inch of you.

you can feel the difference. her grip is gentler, more deliberate, and there’s something tender in the way she pulls you closer, not forcing, but inviting. it’s like she’s trying to make up for every time she lost control, every time she pushed you away instead of pulling you in.

her hands stay on your back, but they move slowly, tracing the curve of your spine like she’s trying to memorize it, to make sure she doesn’t do anything wrong this time.

the kiss deepens, but it’s not frantic. there’s no desperation in it, just warmth, like the world outside this room doesn’t matter. her lips press softly against yours, a slow rhythm, a quiet kind of urgency. she’s still there, holding you, but it’s different.

it’s as if she’s letting you choose how this goes, as if she’s waiting for you to make the next move.

you tilt your head, leaning into the kiss more, fingers curling into the fabric of her hoodie. it feels familiar, but it’s not the same. this time, there’s no anger, no bitterness. there’s just… softness.

you pull back slightly, just enough to look at her, your breath shaky. “this isn’t like before.”

minjeong’s eyes are soft, her pupils dilated. she smiles faintly, brushing her thumb across your cheek like she’s trying to reassure you. “i know. i’m not trying to be that person anymore.”

you can hear the sincerity in her voice, the way it almost cracks, and it makes your chest tighten.

“then what are you trying to be?” you ask quietly, your fingers still tangled in her hair.

“just… here,” she whispers. “just with you. not rushing. not demanding. just… here.”

you don’t say anything, but you don’t pull away either. instead, you let your forehead rest against hers, just breathing for a moment, feeling the warmth of her body, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

this time, when her lips find yours again, it’s different. it’s not about proving anything. it’s just… simple. intimate. like she’s finally learned to let you breathe before she kisses you.

minjeong’s lips are still brushing against yours, soft and warm, when she murmurs against your mouth, “you missed this, didn’t you?”

you huff a quiet breath, trying to hide the way your fingers tighten in her hoodie. “you wish.”

but she just grins, the kind that makes your stomach flip. “mm,” she hums, her hands sliding slowly, deliberately, down your waist, over your hips, until they settle at the back of your thighs. “you missed my lips, baby.”

you open your mouth to deny it, but then her hands start to move—massaging gently, fingers pressing in just right. not too rough, not cocky like she’s trying to prove a point, but soft. tender. like she’s taking her time, like she’s got nowhere else to be but here, touching you like this.

your breath hitches.

she leans in again, kissing the corner of your mouth this time, slow. “missed the way i hold you.”

her thumbs trace slow circles into your skin, warm through the fabric of your shorts. your legs tighten around her a little and you swear she notices—her smile gets smug.

“you tryna act like you don’t love this,” she whispers, kissing the edge of your jaw, “but look at you.”

you tilt your head back slightly, not saying a word, just letting her keep talking because god—her voice this close, her hands this soft—it’s messing with you.

“you’re so easy for me,” she says low, one hand sliding up again to rest at your waist, the other still kneading at the back of your thigh. “said you wouldn’t let me kiss you again.”

“shut up,” you breathe, though it comes out way too soft to sound convincing.

“nah,” she grins, kissing your throat now. “not when you’re making that face.”

you tug her hoodie gently, trying to pull her closer even though you’re already practically pressed together.

“you’re annoying.”

“you’re obsessed with me,” she shoots back, grinning against your skin.

you don’t answer, but your hips shift, just barely, just enough—and her breath catches.

she pulls back a little, eyes locked on yours, and even with that teasing smile still on her lips, there’s something softer in her gaze now. something real.

“let me take care of you,” she says quietly. “just for a little while.”

you don’t nod. don’t say anything.

but you don’t get off her lap either.

so she kisses you again.

and this time, you kiss her back like you mean it.

minjeong’s lips are soft and warm, her hands cradling the back of your head like you’re something delicate. she pulls you closer, and you let her, heart racing as her mouth moves against yours. she tastes like mint and something sweet—familiar, addictive. you kiss her as if your pouring every unspoken word, every bottled up feeling, into it.

as the kiss deepens, minjeong lets out a soft, breathy groan, her lips parting just enough to let you in. your tongue brushes hers, slow and hungry, and you feel her shift beneath you—subtle at first, then unmistakable. her length presses against you, firm and growing, and her hands tighten on your waist, pulling you in like she needs you closer.

minjeong breaks the kiss, cheeks flushed, breath uneven.

“fuck,” she murmurs, half a laugh slipping out low and strained like she’s trying to keep it together.

her hands twitch on your hips as she shifts underneath you, hips tilting just slightly, like she’s searching for a way to breathe without pressing up too hard against you.

but it’s no use. she’s already hard. already aching. and you feel every bit of it.

her jaw clenches.

“you’re driving me crazy,” she mutters, like it’s your fault. like she didn’t pull you into her lap first.

she looks up at you, eyes blown wide, dark with something heavy.

“you feel that?” she whispers, voice low and frayed at the edges. you nod, barely, too aware of the way her length presses up against you—hot, insistent, impossible to ignore.

minjeong exhales, shaky, hands tightening just a little on your waist. “i can’t help it,” she says, almost like a confession. “not when you kiss me like that.”

minjeong’s hand slides from your waist to the back of your neck, firm and deliberate, pulling you flush against her.

you feel all of her now—every inch pressing into you—and it sends a wave of heat crawling up your spine.

she shifts her hips, slow and subtle, just enough to make you feel it. not demanding. just a promise.

“you’re so needy,” you tease, biting back a smile as you feel her grow even harder beneath you.

minjeong groans, her face burying itself into your neck as she moves her hips again, this time with purpose.

“shut up,” she mutters, voice rough.

minjeong’s movements grow more deliberate, each shift sending a wave of heat through you. you can feel the growing wetness between your thighs, your body reacting to her like it knows exactly what she wants. her neediness fuels your own, the pressure building as her hardness presses against you with each gentle roll of her hips.

“damn it,” minjeong mutters under her breath, and before you can even process it, she’s lifting you off her lap—fast, a little reckless.

you let out a soft gasp, feet barely hitting the floor before she’s pushing you back, back against the cushions.

your body lands with a quiet thud, the couch dipping beneath you.

she hovers for a second, just standing there, chest rising and falling—like she’s trying to decide if she wants to kiss you again or ruin you right there.

her eyes dark. jaw tense.

“you don’t get to look at me like that,” she says.

and then she moves, slow but sure, like she already knows you’re not going anywhere.

minjeong leans over you, shadowing your body, her gaze heavy—burning—as it drags across the sight of you laid out beneath her.

“look at you,” she murmurs, more to herself than to you, voice laced with something dark, something hungry.

her hands hover just above the hem of your shirt, fingers twitching like she’s holding herself back.

she hesitates.

“can i?” her voice interrupts the heavy breathing.

she lifts her eyes to yours, and for a moment, all the tension breaks into something tender. asking. waiting. her breath shallow. her hands still trembling with restraint.

you nod, breath catching when minjeong’s fingers graze your skin, lifting the hem of your shirt with a slowness that feels almost reverent. she peels the fabric away inch by inch, her eyes locked on yours the entire time—watching, checking, making sure.

when the shirt finally slips off, she tosses it aside without a second thought. then, still watching you, she shrugs off her hoodie. it falls behind her in a soft heap, leaving her in nothing but a nike sports bra, snug against her toned frame.

“can i take this off too?” she asks, voice low, husky—but softer than before. gentler.

she doesn’t wait long.

her fingers slide under your bra straps, dragging them down slowly, deliberately. her touch is light, almost careful. then she reaches behind you, unhooking the clasp in one smooth motion. the bra loosens, slips down your arms. and then you’re bare before her—soft, warm, trembling just a little.

minjeong doesn’t say anything. she just looks at you for a second too long, her jaw tight, her hands flexing where they rest on your waist like she’s trying not to ruin the moment by wanting too much all at once.

“holy fuck,” minjeong breathes, eyes going wide—stunned, reverent—as she takes you in. her hand lifts, slow and unsure, until her fingers are skimming across your collarbone, tracing the slope of it before drifting lower, ghosting over the curve of your chest. she swallows, hard.

“can i…” her voice falters. “can i take the rest off too?”

you don’t nod. instead, your fingers curl in the fabric of the couch, your body arching just slightly—subtle, wordless permission. minjeong sees it. understands.

she hesitates only a second longer before her hands drop to your waistband. and then, with one sharp pull, she drags everything down—shorts, panties—leaving you bare under the dim light.

“fuck,” she mutters, more to herself than you. “i missed this body so bad.”

her hands move on instinct, like they’ve done this a thousand times. like they never forgot. they glide over your hips, your thighs, thumbs brushing up the sensitive skin of your inner legs. you shudder, a soft sound slipping out. and then her hands are on your chest again—gentle, then not. her touch makes you moan, makes your breath stutter.

she smiles at the sound, like it means something. like it’s hers.

“god,” minjeong mutters, almost like she’s in disbelief. “look at these.”

her hands cup your chest, thumbs brushing over your nipples before she presses your breasts together slightly, admiring the way they rise with your breath. then she leans in—slow, unhurried—and licks a single tight peak, her tongue warm against the sensitive skin.

you gasp, spine arching instinctively, your hands tightening in the couch cushions.

she doesn’t stop—her mouth wraps around you, lips closing as she sucks deeply, her tongue flicking just right. a soft cry escapes you before you can stop it, your body reacting faster than your thoughts.

minjeong hums against your skin, like she’s satisfied with the sound. like she wants more of it.

minjeong shifts, her mouth moving to your other nipple without missing a beat. she licks first, slow and deliberate before sucking softly, then harder, her hands kneading your chest with practiced ease. your breath catches, hips twitching, your nipples growing even tighter under her warm, wet tongue.

your moans spill out freely now, each sound dragging a low hum from her throat, like she’s savoring every reaction. her name slips out once—twice—half-formed, shaky.

and then, finally, she pulls away with a wet pop, your chest rising and falling in her absence.

she doesn’t stop, though—her mouth begins a slow descent, lips brushing kisses down your stomach, each one softer than the last but leaving heat in its place. you squirm beneath her, fingers weaving into her hair, the anticipation curling tight in your belly as she moves lower.

her kisses soften as she trails down your hips, each one slower, more intentional. her hands slide beneath your thighs, coaxing them apart with gentle pressure. you shiver when her lips meet your inner thigh, the touch feather-light, barely there—but enough to make you tremble.

she pauses, eyes flicking up to yours—dark, hungry, reverent—before she finally leans in and presses a kiss to your center, soft and lingering.

you gasp. your hips twitch instinctively, chasing more, but minjeong just smirks against you, wicked and calm. she doesn’t rush. instead, she kisses all around your pussy, her mouth teasing, her tongue tracing just close enough to make your breath hitch.

her hands grip your thighs tighter, spreading you open like a gift, her mouth moving slow and deliberate—every motion a promise. and still, she avoids your clit. just barely. just enough to drive you crazy.

“fuck, i missed this taste,” minjeong murmurs against your thigh, her breath warm, lips brushing your skin. her fingers part you slowly, reverently, and then—her tongue flattens against your folds, dragging up with a low groan like she’s savoring you.

“been craving you so badly…” she mutters, voice thick with hunger, before diving back in.

and when her mouth finally finds your clit—latching on, sucking gently—you cry out, loud and broken.

“fuck! min—”

your hands fly to her hair, gripping tight as her tongue moves faster, more desperate now. every flick, every pull of her lips around you sends shockwaves through your body—hot and fast and relentless. she moans against you like she’s starved. and it only makes everything burn hotter.

minjeong pulls back with a wet slurp, panting, lips shiny, chin slick.

“shit,” she breathes, wiping her face with the back of her hand, smearing your wetness across her cheek like she doesn’t even care. “i could eat this cunt forever.”

but then her eyes flick up—dark, blown out, desperate.

“but i need to be inside you, it’s been too long.”

she stands without breaking eye contact, fingers already hooking into her waistband. in one smooth motion, she shoves her sweats and boxers down, her cock springing free—hard, flushed, leaking.

she kicks them off carelessly, standing over you—bare, beautiful, and fucking starving.

you bite back a grin, lip caught between your teeth as you look up at her—tall, flushed, cock standing hard and heavy between her legs.

“fuck,” you murmur, voice thick with want. “you’re so big...”

you shift your hips, legs falling open just a little wider.

an invitation. a challenge. both.

minjeong’s cock twitches at your words, her smirk widening as she steps closer, eyes dark.

“damn it,” she breathes, voice rough. “i don’t have a condom.”

she pauses, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“but that’s okay, right?” she murmurs, leaning in, her lips brushing your cheek. “i’ll pull out.”

and then she’s back between your legs—settled, steady—dragging the thick head of her cock through your soaked folds, slow and teasing, like she has all the time in the world. like she doesn’t already feel like she’s about to lose it.

minjeong leans in, her voice low—dangerously soft.

“but honestly?” her cock nudges against your entrance, thick and heavy. “i wouldn’t mind putting a baby in you.”

your breath catches.

“might give you a reason to never leave me,” she adds, grinding into you just enough to make your legs tremble, her words sinking deeper than her hips ever could.

your moan slips out, high and breathless, as your back arches into her. the idea, raw and reckless makes your whole body burn.

“god, yes,” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut. “minjeong…”

minjeong wraps her arms around your legs, lifting your hips just enough as she positions herself at your entrance. she pushes forward slowly, giving you time to adjust as she enters you.

she's large, much larger than anything you've ever taken before, and the slow stretch is almost unbearably pleasurable. her breath hitches as she leans over you, foreheads brushing, eyes locked.

“shit,” she murmurs, almost like a confession, “i missed this. missed feeling you around me.”

as she slides in deeper, minjeong lets out a low groan. her hips moving slowly as she fills you completely. she leans down to kiss your neck gently, her cock throbbing inside you with each slow thrust.

you feel everything—every slow, intentional shift of her body against yours. she moves deeper, the stretch making your breath catch, your fingers digging into her back. she keeps the pace unhurried, like she wants you to feel every second of it.

“you feel like heaven.” she whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice thick with awe. her breath is warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

her kisses trail lower, mouth finding the curve of your neck. she presses gentle, open-mouthed kisses there—sucking, nibbling, leaving faint bruises in her wake. she spots the light marks she left last night and her mouth quirks into a smirk against your skin, proud. possessive. like she wants the whole world to know you’re hers.

the couch shifts beneath you, soft creaks escaping with each motion as minjeong picks up her pace. her grip on your hips tightens, eyes locked on yours—dark, unwavering. there’s something urgent in the way she moves now, every thrust deeper, more certain, like she’s trying to prove something. like she’s chasing a feeling only you can give her.

your hands cling to her shoulders, breath stuttering as she presses even closer, bodies moving in sync. her name falls from your lips in a whisper, and she answers it with a deep and claiming kiss, like a promise she doesn’t dare say out loud.

you can feel it building—tight, dizzying in your chest, in the way your breath catches every time her hips meet yours. the couch creaks beneath you, but it’s the least of your concerns. your fingers curl into her shoulders, desperate for something to hold on to.

tears prick at the corners of your eyes—not from pain, but from how overwhelming it feels. how good. how much. “minjeong—” her name spills out of you like a prayer, like a warning.

she leans down, her voice low, curling into the shell of your ear. “did you miss my cock?” she breathes. “missed this big dick stretching you wide open?”

her movements aren’t rushed, but there’s weight behind them. purpose. like she’s trying to prove something. and maybe she is.

you moan softly at her question, your breath shallow, as minjeong’s hand presses against your thigh, urging you to respond.

“use your words, baby,” she murmurs, her voice low and teasing.

you try to speak, but it comes out broken—caught between a gasp and a moan. “y-yeah,” you breathe, barely audible. “missed it. missed you.”

minjeong smiles, slow, dangerous. “there it is.”

her voice is low, rough around the edges, and you feel it more than you hear it.

your thighs tighten. your fingers dig into her back like you’re afraid she might vanish if you let go.

“you gonna cum for me?” she moves again this time deeper, sharper, and your head falls back, a sound you don’t recognize tearing from your throat.

it’s too much.

but you don’t want her to stop.

your breath stutters—

“fu–fuck,” you whisper, voice cracking, body going taut beneath her.

“i’m gonna—” you can’t even finish. the words get lost somewhere between your tongue and the burn building in your core.

minjeong doesn’t stop. she doesn’t slow. she finds that spot—the spot—and hits it again, again, again.

your back arches.

“right there—god, right there,” you cry out, voice breaking as your fingers clutch at her shoulders like lifelines.

“take it,” she mutters, low and wrecked. “take all of it.”

and you do.

you come undone with her name on your lips, body trembling as she keeps moving through it, pulling the pleasure out of you until there’s nothing left but the sound of your heartbeat and her breath in your ear.

but minjeong doesn’t slow down.

doesn’t loosen her grip.

your pleas melt into the air—ignored—as her arms wrap tighter around your waist, anchoring you in place while her hips keep driving into yours, unrelenting.

“m-minjeong, wait—” your voice cracks. “please, it’s too—”

she leans in close, breath hot against your ear.

“just a little longer,” she murmurs, low and steady. “let jeongie have you a bit more, yeah?”

and she doesn’t stop.

not until her hips stutter, her breath catches, and she presses in deep—so deep—as the heat of her release spreads between you.

and still, she holds you like she never wants to let go.

you’re gasping, hips jerking, thighs trembling—but she just pulls you closer, arms locked tight around your waist. “min—,” you breathe out, voice shaky, raw. “too much—”

“shh,” she murmurs against your neck. “just a little more. let me feel you.”

your body’s already aching, overly sensitive, and she’s still grinding into you, slow but deep, like she doesn’t want to let go. and then her hand slips between your legs—fingers finding your clit, rubbing in soft, practiced circles.

you cry out, legs kicking as your body clenches around her.

“that’s it,” she whispers, lips brushing your ear while she releases her heavy load into you. “still so good for me.”

your mind blanks. your body burns. and when the next wave crashes over you, all you can do is hold on.

and after what feels like forever, minjeong finally eases out of you with a low, satisfied sigh, resting her semi-soft dick on your stomach. she watches with a smirk as more of her load drips from her tip, painting your belly white.

you shiver at the loss, breath still shaky as your body tries to come down from the high.

her thick, creamy seed spills out of your now red, puffy pussy and onto your couch.

she watches the mess between your legs, her gaze warm, a little smug. “look at you,” she murmurs, brushing her fingers gently along your thigh. “you look so pretty like this.”

you don’t say anything. can’t, really. you’re still trying to catch your breath, body trembling beneath her touch.

she giggles cruelly, running her fingers through the cum on your stomach. "you know what's funny? you were so mean to me yesterday, and now you're taking my cum like a good little whore. maybe i should fuck you more often, just to remind you who's in charge."

you spit the words out through gritted teeth. “fuck you.”

your voice shakes—half with rage that you let her ruin you, half with the aftershocks still rolling through your body.

minjeong just laughs, her eyes gleaming, that wicked little smile stretching wider. “i love you too.” she mocks, low and sweet like poison.

in slow, deliberate motions—she drags two fingers through the mess on your stomach and brings them to your lips.

“open,” she says, soft and cruel

you don’t move.

not at first.

your eyes lock, your jaw clenched tight, and for a second—just a second—you think maybe she’ll back off.

but of course she doesn’t.

“c’mon, baby,” she coos, tilting her head, fingers brushing your bottom lip. “don’t act shy now.”

you glare at her, fire in your chest and humiliation burning under your skin.

but your mouth opens anyway.

she slips her fingers in, slow, letting them rest heavy on your tongue before pulling them back out with a wet pop.

“good girl,” she whispers, standing up and wiping her hand off on your discarded shirt like it means nothing.

like you mean nothing.

minjeong dresses slow, like she’s got all the time in the world—pulling her hoodie back over her head with steady hands, stepping into her pants without so much as a glance your way. she smooths her hair down, fresh and composed, while you’re still laid out, sticky and bare, skin marked by her.

“you should stay like that,” she says, eyes dragging over you as she grabs her phone and keys.

just before she leaves, she turns back. leans down. kisses you hard—rough and full of something that feels too much like ownership.

it’s over before you can even kiss her back.

“i’ll call you later tonight.” she murmurs, voice low, sharp with something possessive.

she straightens up, fixes her hair one last time, then turns for the door.

you stare at the ceiling, jaw tight, chest aching.

the door clicks shut.

and you’re still laying there, legs sore, lips swollen, throat dry.

“…fuck,” you mutter, fists curling in the fabric beneath you.

you shift on the couch, still gross, still aching in a way that feels more emotional than anything else. and it hits you all over again—she really just showed up, ruined your life for the third time, kissed you like she owned you, and walked out like she didn’t.

you sit up slowly, pull the blanket off the back of the couch, and wrap it around yourself like it’ll do anything to help.

it won’t.

your phone buzzes. you don’t even have to check the screen, you already know it’s her.

because she always wants the last word.

always needs to remind you that this isn’t over—never really is. that she can leave, yes, but only when she decides to. only when you finally start to believe you’re better off without her.

you flip the phone over.

a message.

minjeong: good tasting you again

minjeong: lol get it

minjeong: don’t forget what we are

no apology. no explanation. just that.

you stare at the words, heart still hammering in your chest, body aching in all the ways she wanted.

and then you set the phone down.

you don’t answer, don’t cry, and you don’t scream. you just sit there. quiet. because you know how this goes. she’ll be back, she always comes back.

and you—

you’ll always drown.

she’ll always pull you back down,

no matter how hard you try to save yourself.

longest smut i’ve ever written omds, anyways i hoped you guys noticed how winter never said a real apology to yn 😞don’t forget to like and subscribe for more BANGERS if u enjoyed this 🔥🔥🔥

[feitanii-ll]

∘ ˚𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝟰 𝗬𝗢𝗨!!

(nanami, kento x fem!reader)

(fluff)

nothing will alter the suffocating love and passion that nanami kento feels for his wife. practically joined to the hip, kento is to his wife like a moth to a flame— pushing and pursuing this shining star (being you), blindly and aimlessly, simply because he loves you, and wants to give you his all. show you that, God, you're all his. whether it's rubbing your feet after a long day of work (even after trying to convince you that you can stay home because he can do enough for the both of you to provide), or mumbling soft words into your shoulder as you hover over the stove to cook your shared dinner, sending your order of a chicken sandwich and avocado salad to your work for lunch— kento will do anything for his wife. his soul. his other half.

and he stands on that. very rarely does kento ever say no to you. how could he ever? you wanna eat there? it's always yes, baby. you're thinking about getting that shirt? yeah, baby, here's the card. take it to the register. can you call out of work? yes, honey. do you even have to ask? you're so sweet to him. so polite and loving, he wants to give you the world. he can't find himself in any situation in which he would say no.

except now...

"oh, would you just look at them," kento hears your praise for the umpteenth time in the 30 minutes you've been staring into the orangized array of fishtanks, the neon lights of the decorated aquatic home displaying on your skin as you get face to face with a multitude of dead-eyes gold fish. a petshop. a petshop of all places, he had to take you. in the background, there's the chittering of birds, bubbling of aquatic tanks and the occasional bark! from the vet center that's connected to the place.

"they're just so cute..." he hears you mutter. he knows you're playing it off as mumbling to yourself, when in reality, you want him to feel bad that he's yet to having said yes to buying the entire tank. or the other animals that were scattered amongst the store. "I wish we could have a tank..." you sigh dramatically, to which your husband groans in exasperation.

"sweetheart, please. you're making this very difficult for me." he sighs, running a rough hand over his face, rubbing the inner corners of his eyes with the pads of his thumb and index. "you don't know how to take care of them." he tells you in the most respectful way he can to his wife.

"I could learn, kenny," you whip around to face him "look at them!"

he looks tired and unimpressed. distressed, even, as he's fighting the desire to say yes and just buy the damn fish. and he could almost cry at how you stamp your foot lightly on the tiled floor in desperation to get him to understand, "they're so cute! look at them, kento. they're all squished in the tank and stuff." God, you're cute.

"they're fine, honey," he watches as you turn back to the tank and observe the small fish again, resting a hand on your shoulder to give it a reassuring squeeze. "they get taken care of. see?" he nod his head over to an unsuspecting worker nearby who was restocking the mini-fride of fish food. "safe and sound, dear. I'm sure they like it here." he doesn't know that.

"but they need a home.."

"you said that about the birds, my love." he smiles a little, lifting a brow in confusion.

"that still stands!" he watches you nod firmly, and for once, his princess was making it hard to not be that unrelenting-in-giving husband he strives to be.

"honey, I know you want them, but.. I'm certain you don't know a thing about taking care of fish," you go to cut him off, ready to protest, but he makes an 'aht aht ' sound, lifting a finger to stop you, to which you deflate.

"or birds. or hamsters, or rats, or, goddamn, my love, definitely not a tarantula." he reminds, referring to how just a few minutes ago, you were gushing over the fuzzy creature in its tank. "you just asked me to kill a spider for you last week. you'd hurt the poor thing." he explains, never getting angry or annoyed with you. his tone is that ever so gentle wave of sounds that you adore.

"—and I'd settle on getting you a bird, but they need lots of care, as do all pets. we're both too busy for that, now, aren't we?" kento hums, cupping your cheek and caressing with the pads of his thumb as he sees the look of disappointment on your pretty features.

"when we're truly, truly ready, dear— we can think about it more in depth. but don't get the animal simply because that big heart of yours is wanting to give them a home. it'll be alllright." he hums again, and you pout, knowing that there's a mountain of truth in his words.

you sigh, glancing away from the fishtank and leaning into his chest. he doesn't hesitate to wrap an arm around your shoulder, allowing you your right as his wife to smell that thick cologne that makes your head go all fuzzy and warm.

"there we are.." his voice drops an octive when you relent, silently agreeing to his point. "you're alright, mama. I know you've got a big heart. one day, baby, okay? just not today."

kento feels a sense of emptiness in telling you no, and he knows it's because the concept is so foreign to him. you're his princess. and, if he was irresponsible with his love for you (which, he is) he'd give you every animal in the shop your little heart desires.

"a rabbit..?" your voice snaps him out of his through as he begins to lead you out of the shop.

"hm?" the glances down at you, pushing the double doors open, waving briefly to to cashier who greets the two of you goodbye before his attention is on you again.

"a rabbit, kento? if we ever get the chance?" you ask, so so sweetly. he's a weak man for his wife.

"yes, sweetheart." he sigh with a knowing smile on his face. "yes. we'll look into it."

your smile is wide when you feel his soft lips against your cheek. you slip your hands out of the pockets of your hoodie, wrapping your arms around his middle as you both walk away towards the car.

"'kay.. love you, kento." you remind him. he chuckles, and the sound goes straight to your tummy, dropping and erupting in a cloud of butterflies.

"thank you, baby," he leans over your back, opening the car door for you, dipping his head down to kiss between your neck and shoulder as he does. "I love you more. you know that, yes?"

"yes, kento." you respond, tone wavering. he preens at your shy smile, and you have to make your way into the car, feeling that the pet mart parking lot was much too public for the display of affection.

"good. let's go home, baby." he shuts the car door.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

might be late to the nanami party, but hi.

[mirisss]

Mine To Love

Cat hybrid! Park Sunghoon x human! afab! reader 

Summary: Park Sunghoon had a rough life for many years, it wasn’t easy being a hybrid for him, most people loved buying or adopting cat hybrids as pets but anyone who adopted him, quickly returned him to the shelter, he didn’t understand why, so when a girl named (Y/n) finally adopted him, he was going to do everything he could to make sure she would keep him. 

Warnings: Possessiveness, jealousy, some anxiety, some depression, Sunghoon is kind of obsessed with the reader, some steamier scenes, 

Wordcount ≈ 4.6 k

Sunghoon’s POV

The shelter was buzzing with life as it was packed with probably a hundred people who were here to find a hybrid to adopt. The noise annoyed me, it was too loud, and I knew, no one would look twice at me, whenever they looked at me, they noticed my age and kept on looking for someone younger. 

I don’t understand why, hybrids aren’t like normal pets, we don’t just live for 10 years, we live as long as humans if not even longer. So what if I was in my early twenties? I still had a good 70 or even 80 years to live, unless I got sick of course, I’m well-behaved, but still, I’m unlovable it seems. 

Since I was three years old, I have been adopted and returned to the shelter, 15 times. 15 times during 19 years and for the last 3 years, I have been at the shelter, without anyone showing the slightest interest in me. 

Everyone at the shelter always whispered, thinking I wouldn’t hear them, saying it was weird because I’m a purebred, black Maine coon, quite an attractive breed, big, cuddly, independent. And my more human form wasn’t bad looking either, many people often gushing over me but still, no one wanted me. 

I stayed in the far corner of my room, I’d like to call it a cage but it was quite a nice room, this was one of the better shelters, but it still felt like a cage. I had barely left the room since I had been returned last time, too sad and depressed, I didn’t want to go outside and play with the others, it was easier staying here, alone. 

Every now and then a child would bang their dirty hands on the window into my room, excited to see the hybrid inside it, but as I looked at them, they ran away. Some even going as far as crying, thinking I looked scary. My yet black hair and ears, my dark eyes, and the protruding fangs on my lips, probably made me look like a monster to them. Even their parents would hurry away from my room as they saw what had frightened their child. 

I had truly given up on finding a home. 3 years and no one even stayed by my room for longer than 15 seconds, and yes, I kept count, that’s what hope does to you, but now, I just sit here, waiting for an employee to bring me food and try to cheer me up with false promises. Maybe next time. Someone will come eventually. This just wasn’t your day. Try to smile more, maybe they’ll be intrigued with you then. Smile more, yeah right, showing off my fangs even more. 

I was a Maine coon, in my cat form I was huge, and in my human form, my fangs resembled that of a vampire’s, if I smile, you can see the full extent of them, most people assume I’m a panther, a wild big cat, and that’s not a family-friendly pet. 

The shelter was closing in 30 minutes, the sun had set, casting my room into darkness, I still hadn’t moved an inch from my corner, it was better this way, people wouldn’t even have to think someone was in this room. Each glance still gave me some hope so if they don’t look, it’s easier on my fragile heart. 

Suddenly my ears picked up the sound of someone unlocking the door to my room, probably an employee who would turn on the lights, but to my surprise, there was a woman, a customer, standing beside the employee. Had someone actually asked to see me? No, don’t get your hopes up. “This is Sunghoon, he’s 22 years old, a Maine coon, his coat is jet black… He’s probably the closest hybrid we have to your requests, ms. Kim,” The woman looked me up and down, her eyes held distaste in them, she wasn’t satisfied with me. “Why would I want something so glum and sad, no, I think I’ll take my business elsewhere, nothing here seems to satisfy my taste,” My heart sank, of course, I wasn’t enough. Too sad and glum. I contemplated trying to smile but the woman had already turned and walked away by the time I had blinked. 

With just five more minutes until no more customers were allowed, I noticed someone standing outside my window, looking at me, they had stood there for a good minute or two. I looked up to the window and found a girl standing there, she looked sad, just like I did. When she noticed me looking at her, she waved her hand in a tiny motion, most people would have missed it had they not been looking at her hand. I waved back in the same tiny motion. And then she left. My heart broke, once again, I had been a fool to think that someone would choose me. 

“I’m sorry, miss but we’re closing down in about a minute so we can’t let you meet any of the hybrids, you can come back tomorrow though,” “Oh, okay, sorry for being so late, I’ll make sure to come back tomorrow,” The voices came from right outside my door, maybe just maybe, the girl who would return tomorrow, was the one who had waved at me just a minute earlier. 

~ The next day ~ 

I lay emotionless in my bed, I hadn’t touched the breakfast the employees had given me an hour ago. I heard the buzzing of people walking around looking at hybrids again, no footsteps stopped at my door, and no one was interested in me. That was until the clock struck 12, lunchtime, the buzzing halted as everyone went to eat lunch. It was then that I heard light footsteps approaching my door, I thought they were just passing, but they stopped outside my room, the lock slowly turning, and then the door opened. 

In the opening, stood the girl from yesterday. She was shyly smiling at me. She was cute. I couldn’t help but smile back, only for a second though as she gasped at the sight of my fangs, so I quickly stopped smiling and looked away, ready for the door to close again. Another pair of footsteps was walking toward us, no doubt an employee. 

“I’m sorry about that, emergency with one of the small ones, anyway, this is Sunghoon, 22 years old, Maine coon, jet black coat, as far as we know he is well-behaved, quite calm and kind, we don’t know how cuddly he is, but I’m sure he’ll warm up once you get to know him,” It wasn’t the first time they had introduced me to someone, but each year with my age going up, most people would become uninterested when they heard how old I was, yet this girl still seemed intrigued with me. “How long has he been in the shelter?” “Almost his whole life, he has been adopted many times but all those homes didn’t work out, so he has been returned to us far too many times,” 

The girl’s eyes became glossy as she heard about my history. “Was he just returned for no reason?” The employee looked at me with pity. “Most reasons were that he was too big as a cat, too old, too quiet, or similar things, nothing about bad behavior,” “Would it be okay if we spent some time alone, to talk?” “Of course, just close the door and when you wish to leave, just knock on it and we’ll come and open it,” “Are you okay with that? Me staying here with you for a while?” Sunghoon was confused, was this girl asking him for his opinion? I just nodded, too afraid to speak at the moment, scared that this was all a dream. 

Third Person POV

The employee left and now it was just Sunghoon and the girl in the room, she sat down on the floor, facing the bed that Sunghoon was sitting on. He felt bad that she had to sit on the cold hard floor, but he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries and ask her to take the bed. 

“I’m (Y/n),” Sunghoon looked at her, she was smiling at him, but he noticed the way she was trembling, nervous, and anxious, it was similar to what he was feeling. “I’m Sunghoon,” He covered his mouth with his hand so that she couldn’t see his fangs as he introduced himself. “Why do you do that? Cover your mouth?” Sunghoon continued holding his hand in front of his mouth as he answered. “My fangs are quite large and people find them intimidating so I’ve found that people feel more comfortable around me if I do this,” “They’re beautiful, your fangs I mean,” Sunghoon felt his heart skip a beat, she thought his fangs were beautiful. “What do you mean?” “Your fangs, they’re a great contrast to your dark hair, ears, and tail, your fangs are so clear and white, while your hair is jet black, it suits you, when I gasped earlier it wasn’t because I found you scary, it was because you were so breathtakingly handsome,” (Y/n)’s face flushed red as she said that, Sunghoon found it intriguing. 

Never before had anyone taken his opinion into account before doing something, and never had he seen someone be so genuine and real about their thoughts of him. Sunghoon dared move his hand away from his mouth, allowing (Y/n) to see his whole face again. “How come you’re here? At the shelter, and with me?” (Y/n) smiled as he removed his hand, admiring his fangs and handsome face. “I’m lonely, so I want to find a companion, someone I can come home to so that my house feels less empty, I want someone who is genuine, I want a real friend, and I want to help someone, give them a home too. When I was here yesterday, I was drawn to you, everyone else looks so happy and cheerful, they’re children, but you, you looked like me, lonely, so I wanted to know more about you,” 

Sunghoon didn’t understand, how could such a kind girl be lonely. “Why are you lonely?” She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t talk with my family, we fell out about a year ago over a silly disagreement, I’ve tried reaching out to them but they don’t answer so I’ve given up on that. I had some friends but after I went through a breakup, they all left because they took his side, it was messy, so I just left, it was easier that way. And after that, I have barely been out except for work,” Sunghoon’s guarded gaze softened as (Y/n)’s eyes became glossy with tears. They were both abandoned by the people who were supposed to love them and protect them. This had to be it. This girl has to be my forever home. Sunghoon thought. 

(Y/n) buried her face in her hands, trying to stop herself from crying. Sunghoon silently got off the bed and crawled toward her on the floor, just like the cat inside him, he moved without a sound. Gently, the hybrid wrapped his long arms around the girl, trying his best to comfort her, (Y/n) was shocked at the action but she quickly relaxed into him and returned the hug. It had been so long since someone had embraced him or even shown the slightest of physical love for him, like petting him or hugging him, that this one hug, caused him to purr loudly. 

Sunghoon was embarrassed, he barely remembered that he could purr because he hadn’t done it for over 10 years. His face and neck flushed a deep red color. (Y/n) noticed as they slightly separated from one another, she smiled and giggled, he looked so cute. Her giggles only caused him to blush more. “You look so cute like this, like a kitten, almost,” “Ya, I’m an adult,” “Mhm, maybe, but you still look cute,” Sunghoon was happy that (Y/n) seemed to have shaken away the sadness from before, he like seeing her smile, he wished he could protect her happiness so that she would never have to cry again. 

“Would you like it if I adopted you? I think we’d really get along, and maybe, we’d feel less lonely,” Sunghoon was afraid, what if she returned him just like everyone else? This was the final chance, if this doesn’t work out, he’ll never return to the shelter, he’ll run away. One final chance at having a home. One last time, he would allow himself to believe he was actually wanted. “I’d really like that,” “I’ll get started on the paperwork then,” 

2 hours later, (Y/n) finally finished signing and reading all the papers regarding the adoption. The employees were happy for Sunghoon but also for themselves, they were losing money on keeping such an old hybrid in the shelter, most other shelters would have euthanized him by now, so they just hoped that this time, he wouldn’t be returned. They hoped that this was the last time they saw him. “There, all done, miss. Sunghoon doesn’t have many belongings, only a small bag of clothes, and he doesn’t have a collar, so before you can leave with him, you’ll have to buy one and have your name and address and everything written on the tag,” “Can I buy a collar here?” “No, you can do it a few stores down, at the pet and hybrid shop, they close soon though so you might have to come back tomorrow,” “If I run there and get the collar fixed, can I bring him home today?” “Yes, if you get the collar, you can have him, right now,” 

(Y/n) rushed out the door, running to the store, ready to fix the collar so that the poor boy could leave that place. “Hey, I want this collar, and these things printed on the tag, please,” it took 10 minutes to fix the collar, right before the store closed, once (Y/n) held the collar in her hands she ran back to the shelter, not wanting Sunghoon to believe she had abandoned him. By the time she returned to the shelter, she was out of breath and panting, she showed the shelter employees the collar, and once they said that it was approved, she walked over to his room, opening the door with a smile. 

“Ready to go home?” “You didn’t leave? You’re actually adopting me?” “I did leave for a few minutes to get this,” (Y/n) held her hand toward him, the collar in it catching his attention. Sunghoon looked at it with adoration in his eyes. He finally noticed that her heart was racing, her face flushed, some sweat had formed on her forehead, she had been running, all to be able to take him home today. Home. “And, yes, of course, I am. If you still want me to,” (Y/n) looked a bit hesitant, what if Sunghoon had changed his mind about her? She began retracting her hand, but before she could bring it more than an inch closer to her, Sunghoon quickly snatched the collar from her hand and put it on himself. “Let’s go home, please,” (Y/n) smiled at him, and gently grabbed one of his hands into hers, his other hand held a small bag, his clothes. We need to get him some new clothes, one day at a time. (Y/n) gently guided the cat out of his room and out of the shelter toward her car. 

It felt like a fever dream, she treated him like a person and not just a pet, he got to ride in the front seat of the car, in his human form, every car ride he had ever had previously was in his cat form. Sunghoon didn’t dare let go of (Y/n)’s hand once they both sat in the car, afraid that if he wasn’t touching her, she would disappear. But she didn’t, she was there, she was real, and now she was his. 

Sunghoon was in awe of the house in front of him, (Y/n) had parked the car in front of a cozy-looking house. It wasn’t the biggest one he had seen, but it was the one that looked the most like a home. “Welcome home, it’s not huge but it’s enough for the two of us,” “I don’t know what to say, I’m just so happy to finally have a place to call home, thank you,” Once again, Sunghoon embraced (Y/n) into a tight hug, he didn’t even notice himself moving closer to her before he had already buried his face in her neck. Her scent was intoxicatingly sweet, he liked it, a lot. 

“I didn’t expect you to be so cuddly, I’m not complaining, though, but at the shelter they told me you were quite cold to everyone,” “Mhm, being rejected over and over will do that to you, I don’t know why, but I just really like being close to you,” He snuggled even closer to the human, his tail was swishing back and forth, his sensitive ears made magnetic shocks go through him as they rubbed against her. “Come on, let’s head inside, it’s cold out here, at least for me, I know hybrids tend to be warmer than us humans, so you might not notice it as well as I do,” Sunghoon reluctantly released her so that they could walk into the house. Everything smelled so strongly of her, he loved it, he never wanted to leave.  

 (Y/n) showed Sunghoon around the house, he still held onto her hand whenever he could, “So, this is my bedroom, and here just across from it, would be your room, it’s really plain right now but you will be able to decorate it as you wish, these two rooms have private bathrooms so we don’t have to share, and then downstairs there’s another bathroom that we can use when we’re down there or if we have guests over, which we probably won’t have considering that I don’t have any friends and you’ve been in the shelter for so long,” Sunghoon didn’t understand why he almost felt happy about it being only the two of them, forever. 

“The bed is made for you in there, there’s a towel and toiletries in the bathroom if you want to take a shower before going to bed, I have taken time of work for a week so we can go out shopping for some new clothes and things for your room during the upcoming days, I also don’t know anything about your preferred diet so we need to buy stuff for that too,” “I eat most things humans do, except for mint-choco ice cream, I need to eat a lot of protein to stay healthy, and because of my cat side I can’t eat big amounts of onion, garlic, and stuff like that. I can eat some but not a lot or I can get gut problems or even anemia,” “Good to know, well, we’ll go shopping tomorrow so everything will be fine, you can pick whatever you want then, I’m gonna head to bed as I’m exhausted, sleep well, kitten,” 

Sunghoon blushed at the nickname, “Ya, I’m not a kitten,” “Mhm, you keep telling yourself that,” “Good night,” Sunghoon was a bit scared to say good night, afraid that this wonderful dream would end if he did. Nonetheless, he opened the door to his room. (Y/n) had been right about the room being plain, but so had his room at the shelter been so one more night of that, didn’t bother him. The bed was big, almost three times the size of his old one. He walked into the bathroom, it was nice, luxurious even, once again, he realized that (Y/n) treated him as a person and not as a pet. 

Even though he was part cat, Sunghoon loved showering, it was nice feeling clean and fresh, the soap in the bathroom was mostly targeted toward women as it smelled like roses, it smelled like (Y/n), so Sunghoon didn’t mind it. He liked smelling like her. However, he would have wished that the scent actually came directly from (Y/n) and not just from using the same soap. 

After the shower, Sunghoon lay down in the bed, it was soft, like a cloud, before he knew it, he had fallen asleep, dreaming of (Y/n) and how living with her would be. 

~ Fast forward a week ~ 

During this week, (Y/n) and Sunghoon had gone shopping for clothes, towels, toiletries, food, and a few decorative pieces for his room and for the house to make it feel more like his home as well and not only have touches of (Y/n). Sunghoon enjoyed spending time with (Y/n), at home it was just the two of them, he could hug her as much as he wanted to, he could make sure that his scent was all over her, and hers on him, he was lovesick and he never wanted this to end. 

A week had gone by, and it was now time for (Y/n) to go back to work. This means Sunghoon would be home alone for a few hours every other day as (Y/n) could work from home some days. “I don’t want you to leave, please don’t leave me,” He tried to give the human his best ‘puppy eyes’, but nothing worked, she wouldn’t budge. “I have to work, Hoon, otherwise I can’t afford to keep the house, or you,” Sunghoon was pouting but he eventually gave in, letting go of (Y/n), he went to the sofa, shifted to his cat form, and curled up on the sofa, covering his eyes with his tail. He was sad and wanted to spend his lonely hours asleep until (Y/n) would return from work. 

Eventually, Sunghoon got used to (Y/n) heading to work every other day, he still didn’t like it, but he understood that it was a must for her to work. To work off some of his possessive feelings that wanted to lock her up and never let her leave him, Sunghoon began working out, he quickly became buff, his muscles defined and tempting. Oh so tempting, for (Y/n). There was no denying that she had found the hybrid incredibly attractive before, but now, she could barely resist throwing herself at him. But that would be wrong. What if he didn’t want that? So she tried to keep her horny thoughts to herself, and maybe it was time to find a new partner so that she could blow off some steam. Even if she wished that her partner would be Sunghoon. 

~ About a month after (Y/n) went back to work ~

(Y/n) walked through the door, groceries in hand, Sunghoon noticed that she seemed extra cheerful today, he had been in his cat form so he shifted back to his human form just as she came into the living room. “Hello, kitten, how are you?” “I’m good, worked out a bit earlier, and then I watched a movie, fell asleep, that’s about it, how about you?” “I’m good, I ate lunch with one of my coworkers today, Jay, he’s really nice, he even paid for my lunch, he’s handsome as well,” 

Sunghoon’s smile fell. (Y/n) had eaten lunch with another man, he’s handsome, no, you’re not supposed to find other men attractive, you have me, you don’t need anyone else. He thought, but he tried to swallow his jealousy, he couldn’t lose you for such a silly reason. Silly. No. This was about life or death. 

For the following couple of days, (Y/n) always had something to say about this Jay. Sunghoon was trying his best to control himself but each day it got harder and harder, the final straw for his self-control was when you returned home, later than usual, and you smelled like a man, it was subtle, but it was clearly there for his sensitive nose. Someone’s trying to steal my (Y/n) from me. 

As (Y/n) stepped into the living room, talking about Jay once again, his scent creeping up on Sunghoon, her eyes sparkling, he couldn’t take it anymore. He was jealous, jealous that another man had touched his girl, jealous that (Y/n) seemed so enthralled with this man. He was threatened, what if this Jay takes his place in (Y/n)’s life? What if she doesn’t want him anymore if she has Jay? What if he loses his home? He couldn’t control himself, his body moving out of pure instinct. 

Sunghoon lightly pushed (Y/n)’s shoulders until her back collided with the wall, he had one hand on her waist now, and the other on her cheek, he gazed into her eyes with yearning, worry, sadness, and an urgency like never before. “What--mmm” Before she could end her sentence, Sunghoon crashed his lips onto hers, his fangs felt cold against her lips yet she welcomed the feeling, it was exciting, new, it felt dangerous. 

(Y/n) was surprised, stunned, by the cat’s actions, but she didn’t dare push him away, not because of fear, but because she was afraid this was her only chance to experience him. Sunghoon inhaled deeply, almost going feral from the scent of the (Y/n)’s arousal, this only caused him to deepen the kiss even more. 

Once Sunghoon stopped attacking (Y/n)’s lips with his own, he had teary eyes, from frustration, “Please don’t abandon me for some guy, I’m better than him, please, you have to be mine, you’re mine to keep, mine to love, please, I love you, I don’t want to share you with anyone, I want to be selfish, just this once, please, (Y/n),” 

(Y/n) was still trying to catch her breath from the make-out session that had just happened, she raised one hand to his cheek, gently caressing it, wiping away some tears that escaped from his eye, she leaned in, giving him a gentle peck on the lips. “I’m all yours, Honnie, you don’t have to share, don’t worry, I only need you,” 

Sunghoon immediately leaned down for more kisses. This time even deeper, yet more gentle than the first. He was ecstatic, he finally had his home, and his person, his person that he didn’t have to share. She was his and he was hers. “I can’t control myself anymore, I need all of you,” “Then take me,” Sunghoon lifted (Y/n) up and carried her to his bed, where they spent a long night reassuring one another of their love for each other, and Sunghoon made sure to erase every trace of Jay from her body and mind. Now his scent was engulfing her entire being, and his image was the only one in her head. His tail swished happily back and forth as (Y/n) lay in his arms, and soon enough she fell asleep, as she listened to him spinning loudly, happy to finally call her his. 

[homestylehughes]

forbidden love

pairing(s): nico hischier x fem!hughes sister

summary: what happens when they both want a love that's forbidden? 

warnings: fluff, sooo much flufffff. nicos a cute little baby in this. shy, nervous and cute reader. use of pet names and y/n. cussing, implied smut 18+ intense makeout, nothing too heavy.

wc: 3.6k 

an: hiiiiii loves!!! NICO FIC NICO FIC NICO FIC!!!! about damn time!! loveeee nico. hes so ?? to many words. i really enjoyed writing this. this is my first hughes sister story i've written, and i loveeee, hopefully you guys do too! i had trouble deciding if i should make this a cliffhanger or not... i kinda did but i think i want a part 2 if you guys want that!!! share your opinions, i love hearing them!! anyways i hope you enjoy, this might be my favorite piece yet. i hope you guys enjoy! like and reblog if you do, much love as always<3

happy reading <3

Nico knew he couldn't have you, but he wanted you anyway. Being Luke and Jack's older sister, made you off limits to anybody on the team, older or not. Nico had not always felt this way about you until recently. 

Ever since Jack got drafted to the devils, and then luke, he started to see you at more fundraising events held by the devils, team outings whenever you were in town visiting. Stealing little glances at you when you were in the same room, being pulled in by your smile and how you moved your hands as you talked to anyone and everyone. 

If that didn't already pull him into you even more, what did was, how you acted with the rest of the team treating all of the boys like they're our own family. Always greeting nico with a shy smile and hi, making conversation about anything, hockey related or not. 

Nico was enhanced by you, but he couldn't have you, which brings you guys to this moment. 

– 

“Jack if you don't answer your phone, god help me” I yell shout out, as I call Jack for the 10th time in the span of 15 minutes. Already calling Luke’s phone around 30 times, still no answer. My hands are shaking as I type out random masses of texts to both of them.

So maybe taking an impromptu trip to see my brothers wasn't the best idea. living in vancouver had its perks, being close to Quinn was one of them but i missed my two younger brothers, or maybe i should say assholes since neither of them can answer their phones. 

I'm standing outside their apartment soaked from head to toe, not thinking about the rain, nor was I thinking about the fact that they had moved, leaving me with no key to their place.

 So I'm stuck, knowing there's nothing I can do. I pull my suitcase over to the wall, slowly and dramatically slide down the wall, letting out a deep sigh as I do. My phone is almost dead, I'm hungry, jetlagged, annoyed, cold, wet and so many other words right now. 

Dropping my head into my arms that rest on my knees, deciding that this will be my final resting place, for tonight. I hear the elevator door ding open on the floor, not bothering to look up knowing it's neither jack or luke walking down the hall.

“y/n” I hear my voice with a thick accent say, knowing the voice I slowly lift my head up, locking eyes with the one and only Nico Hischier “Hi..” I mutter back embarrassed at the fact that look like a lost wet dog right now in front of him.

“Are you okay, did something happen?” he asks back as he begins to walk closer to me. “I uhh…wanted to surprise Jack and Luke but it seems like they aren't here.” i sign out, “to make it worse i don't have a key to their apartment, they're not answering my calls or texts. My phones almost dead and i'm covered in wet rain and i'm cold.'' I huff out the last part, my eyes beginning to fill with tears. I close my eyes quickly not wanting to look like a fool even more and cry in front of nico.

“Oh y/n”, expecting him to just stand there, instead he makes his way to me taking a seat on the ground next to me. "What are you doing nico?” I say, opening my eyes again, turning my head to lock my eyes with his. I get a good look at him for the first time since this, and fuck is he beatiful. 

His deep voice snapping me out of my trance as he speaks, “sitting with you, what else does it look like.” he says followed with a soft chuckle. “Nico, you don't have to do that, I'm okay, you can go home, I'm sure you're tired.” instantly feeling bad he's wasting his night away with me out here. 

“Jack and Luke would kill me if I left you out here by yourself”, “if I don't kill them myself” I say back my eyes now dropping back my feet. That earns a laugh from Nico, he has such a nice laugh, I think to myself. y/n, snap out of it and get it together. 

Sitting up straighter, pulling my head to lean against the wall, mirroring nicos position. “Are you sure? You don't have too, i'm not even sure when they'll be back.'' I say looking at Nico, who's looking back at me. “Well I do have another idea,” he says, licking his lips before speaking again. “I live right down the hall, if you'd like you can stay with me until they come back.” 

“Nico i can't do that, i feel bad”, “don't feel bad, i'm offering. I'm leaving you out here by yourself.” he repeated to me again. My heart picks up at his words. Taking a deep breath, I weigh my options in my head, knowing that this is probably the best option, but also my worst. 

How am i going to survive with very, sweet, hot, sexy, nice, handsome, pretty, swiss caption of the new jersey devils, nico hischier? I'm probably not, but at least I'll die happy and not here. 

“Okay, I'll come. Thank you so much nico.” I finally answered him, “dont worry about it, come on let's get you changed and warmed up i can't imagine how cold and tired you are” he says with a soft loving look on his face. Getting up before me, holding out his hand for me to grab, pulling me up from the floor. His hand feels so soft and warm in mine, I don't want to let go. 

Pulling my hand out of Nico’s, I go to grab my suitcase, to follow him down the hall, before I can fully grab it Nico has it in his hands. “Nico..i can grab my own suitcase” “i know you can, but i want to do it, so i am” he says as he looks back at me smiling. 

Ignoring how his smile made my whole body tingle, I sigh out and shake my head as a small smile breaks through on my lips, as I follow Nico down the hall. 

Stopping at his place, only a few doors down from my brothers, popping in the key and turning the lock, quickly opening the door. He motions for me to go in first, I give him a small smile as I enter the apartment. 

Taking in the place around me, pictures of his family and teammates over the walls, little nicnacs that fill the space, it feels like home. “Does my place give you your approval?” he says from behind me, “yes it does, jack and luke need to take a few home decor lessons from you.” that earns me another laugh from nico. 

“Let me show you the guest bedroom” he says, leading me through the apartment, down a hall, opening a door which I assume is in the guest room. “Here's the guest room, hopefully it's okay and comfortable for you, I wasn't expecting anyone over anytime soon and i-” “Nico'' I say, cutting off his ramble. “It's perfect, thank you” I say walking in front of him, pulling him into a hug. 

God, he smells so good. The way his warm body is wrapped around me like a warm blanket, I don't want to pull away, but I do after a few moments. 

“You're welcome y/n” he says looking at me again, i can feel my heart beginning to heat up. Clearing his throat before looking away, “the bathroom is at the end of the hall, my room is at the beginning of the hall.” he says, while pointing in the direction. Nodding in understanding even though he can't see me. 

“Feel free to shower and get changed, i'm going to head to the kitchen to start making dinner” he says now turning back to face me, “nicooo… you don't have to cook anything. You're already doing so much for me by letting me stay here, really” 

“Now what kind of host would I be, if I let a pretty girl like you starve under my watch.” Nico replies with a teasing smile on his face. “A bad one i guess” I smile breaking through my face. “You called me pretty” I said again, my eyes never leaving his. “I did, because you are.” he says before walking out of the room, leaving me stunned.

“Do you have any special requests for dinner?” I hear him shout from the kitchen, popping my head out of the room, “no! Surprise me!” I replied. 

This is dangerous, I can not think or find him attractive. He’s my brother's captain, teammate and also one of their closest friends. I have to keep it together. 

I gather my things to take a shower, making my way to the bathroom, shutting the door and turning the shower on. I then work on peeling off my semi- wet clothes off my body, the relief filling my veins once they're finally off, finally making my way into the shower. The hot water relaxes my body instantly. Throughout the whole shower all of my thoughts are about Nico, and I'm going to act once I get out of here, making me nervous and feeling things. Things i shouldn't feel. 

Turning off the shower, getting out and drying myself quickly. I began getting redressed again, clearing the mirror to take a look at myself, the old devils shirt i've had for god knows how long, that's probably three sizes too big, and shorts that you cant even see. Not bothering to pack pants, because I thought I would be staying with my brothers, not Nico.

 Inserucies start to plague my mind but I push them down. brushing my hair, fixing my shirt, deciding that it's good enough. Grabbing my things before making my back to the guest bedroom. dropping off my things in the room before taking a deep breath making my way towards the kitchen. 

Walking into the kitchen, nicos back is turned to me. A sight that I'm not complaining about seeing. The way his mussels are ripping through his shirt, is enough to make my mouth water. What I'm doing. Get it together. 

Walking further into the kitchen, I get a better look at what he's cooking, pasta boiling the water and it looks like he's making a type of sauce. Smiling softly to myself, at how sweet he is. 

“Do you need any help?” I say breaking the silence. Nico turned around quickly, a smile dancing on his face. “No, I'm okay, thank you though. How was your shower?” he asks before turning back to the stove again. 

“It was good, thank you” I say, still standing awkwardly in the kitchen, not sure where to go or what to do. “I can feel your nerves from over here y/n.” nicos voice breaks through the kitchen as he speaks, “I'm sorry, I'm nervous.” I nervously laughed out loud. “Why?” Nico says as he circles his way around the counter leaning against it, in front of me. 

“You make me nervous, I don't know how to act around you.'' I said truthfully to him, while looking in his eyes. “You make me nervous too, don't worry” he says as he looks me up and down, his gaze feels like summer sun on my skin, leaving trails of heat throughout my body. 

“Dinner will be ready in 15 minutes, feel free to take a seat, or keep standing there checking me out. Either work for me” nico says to me, winking as he walks around the kitchen again. I'm frozen in place. What just happened? Is Nico flirting with me? The wink? Holy shit.

My mind and body are on fire, as I walk over to the island to sit down. Tension fills the air, I sit there for a few minutes trying to wrack my brain of something to say.

Nico beats me to it before I have the chance to open my mouth. “You look different” he says, back still turned towards me. “What do you mean by different? Is that a good or bad thing?”. “Not bad,” he replies now, turning to look at me, “just older, I'm not sure how to explain it, but you look good.” 

“Thank you?” i say my cheeks are warming with blush. “You’re welcome” he hums back. “You look really good too” I say, Nico chuckles at me “shit, sorry. You look good like everything you know? Mussels, everything. I'm rambling, shit. this is embarrassing." I say, dropping my head into my hands with a groan. 

“I found it cute, don't worry pretty girl.'' Turning around to get plates out of the cabinet.  Pretty girl. Gosh he's making it harder to not go pounce on him right this second. 

“Dinners done, are you ready to eat?” he says a few moments later, nodding my head at nico as he looks my way. Grabbing two plates filling them with the pasta he made , which looked so good. My stomach growling, reminding me how hungry I am. 

Placing my plate in front of me, along with a glass of wine that I didn't even see him pour. “I think you might need this after today” he says justering to the wine, as he takes a seat next to me. “How'd you know?” I slowly laughed to him, “this food looks so good, nico. Thank you so much” 

“You don't have to thank me, y/n but, you're very welcome.” he says to me. “Now eat, I heard your stomach growl in the kitchen.” he says in a teasing tone. My eyes widened, quickly grabbing my fork, and digging in. the flavors, melting on my tongue. I internally moan at the taste.”fuck this is so good” i say with a mouth half full. Forgetting Nico is right next to me, I'm quick to cover my mouth with my hand. 

“I'm glad you enjoy it.” Nico says, smiling at me before taking another bite. Nico and I make small talk as we eat, talking about anything from hockey and my brothers to my job in Vancouver, and everything in between. Finding myself laughing and blushing more than I would have liked. Nicos charm pulled me in, and I couldn't find a care in me to stop falling for it. 

“Thank you again for dinner nico” I say as he clears the plates. “Of course, not everyday I get to cook for thee, y/n hughes” “shut up” I laugh back at him. 

“At least let me do those dishes, since you made dinner,” I say , making my way to the sink where Nico is standing. “No way, go sit back down,” Nico says, looking down at me. “I'm not taking no for an answer nico.” I say placing my hands on my hips, “fine, but I'll dry them.” he says, narrowing his eyes at me.

 “I know why Jack and Luke say you're bossy”. “Hey now. I'm not that bossy, shut it” turning my body away from him as I speak. Turning on the sink, grabbing the sponge and soap, and began washing the plates in the sink.

Nico just chuckles in response. We began a system of wash, dry, wash dry. The silence is comfortable as we work in peace. It almost feels domestic? Something that I could get used to. y/n stop thinking about that. It will never happen.

“y/n” nico says snapping me out of my day dream, “hmm?” “You've been washing the same plate for the last 2 minutes. I'm pretty sure that it's clean ""oh!" I say looking down at the practically shiny plate in my hands, “here you go I'm sorry” handing him the plate, our hands grazing, making my heart rate speed up. 

I have to get out of the kitchen, I say to myself. Turning off the water and drying my hands on the towel, stepping away from the sink, locking my eyes on my sock covered feet. 

“Are you okay?” Nico asks me, raising my head to look at him. “Yes I'm okay, just tired,” I say softly. “I think I might head to bed, see if Jack or Luke responded to me or not.” 

“Of course, feel free.” Nico says, while putting the dishes away. “Okay..thank you again for dinner, again. Goodnight.” I say as I make my way out of the kitchen, Nico following behind me. “Good night y/n.” he says to me with a small smile on his face, i smile in return and make my way to the guest room for the night. 

Closing the door behind me, I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding in. making my way over to the phone to see that neither jack or luke have responded to me, a frown falling on my face. I call them each again, even sending Quinn a text asking if he's heard of them. 

Locking my phone, setting it back on the bedside table, I pull back the blankets settling into the bed. Slowly sinking into the comfort of the bed, I can feel the effects of today hitting my body. My eyes slowly closing, the one thing crossing my mind is nico. 

Just as I'm able to fully close my eyes, I hear a knock on the door. Getting out of bed, opening the door to see a now shirtless nico in sweatpants standing in front me. Hair messy, like he's been running his hand constantly through it. 

“Everything okay, did you need something?” I ask him, trying to keep my eyes on his face only. “Everything is fine, yes” he replies to me quickly. “Are you sure?” I ask again, feeling like he hasn't told me the whole story yet.

“Can I do something?” He asks me if I can feel his eyes looking at my lips, “yes?” I say swallowing quickly. Nico takes a step more, until he's directly in front of me, his face a few inches from mine. 

“I shouldn't want to kiss you y/n '' he begins, my breath hitching as he places both of his hands on my hips, his thumbs tracing small circles on them. “I shouldn't have these thoughts about you. Youre jack and lukes older sister, fuck i should be thinking about you like this.” he says now locking his eyes with mine.

“I can't help myself though, everything about you is perfect. I want you all to myself.” one of his hands begins tracing up my side, making its way to the side of my neck holding it place, lifting my head to meet his face better. 

“I want you so bad. I can't have you though. You're like a forbidden fruit that i want to taste and kiss and love so bad but i can't have you, and it's killing me.” he finishes dropping his head lower to mine, our faces now only a few centimeters apart. 

“Who says you can't have me?” I say softly, not trusting my voice, trailing my hands around his neck. “What if I want you too?” I whisper out before connecting our lips together. 

Nico is quick to respond, pulling my body flush against his, our lips dancing together. His hand trailing down to my ass, grabbing a handful of it before pulling away, smiling at me, “I've wanted to do that all day” he smirked at me, before connecting our lips together again. His tongue enters my mouth as we fight for dominance, deciding to let Nico win. 

I began to walk backwards towards the bed, hoping Nico would follow. Before I know it he's picking me up, throwing me over his shoulder, walking down the hallway and tossing me on the bed in his bedroom. 

I look at the room around me, taking in every detail, before locking eyes with nico who's now looking at me from above. The way his chain dangles in my face, and his brown eyes look in the dimly lit room, and how his chest rises and falls is a sight I want to see forever and forever.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.” he smirks to me, “you're just so pretty” i say as i run my hands through his hair. “Isn't that something i'm supposed to say?” he asks as he begins to place soft kisses down my exposed neck. 

“Maybe you could show me instead?” I say, pushing my lips to his again. His hands quickly fell underneath my shirt, tracing up my bare sides. I remove my hands from nicos hair, pushing myself up from the bed. Pulling off my shirt, throwing it somewhere behind us, clipping my bra, tossing it in the same direction as my shirt. Now leaving myself completely bare in front of nico besides my shorts. 

Our chests are raising and falling together, our eyes locked. “y/n..” nico says to me breathlessly. “Fuck you’re so beautiful” his hands running along my bare sides and underneath my breasts. “Are you sure about this?” he asks me, our faces close together again, “i've never been so sure about anything in my life, Nico please touch me.” desperation in my voice dripping like honey. 

A growl like noise rips through nico, as he reconnects our lips together again. His hands are everywhere, heat spreading all throughout my body. I feel him everywhere. I want him everywhere. 

If he's a forbidden fruit, then why does it feel so good? 

[mayasaurusss]

A touch of summer.

Contents: established relastionship, fluff, sfw breastfeeding, blurb (700 words). A/N: I wanted to desperatley write a somthing based on the lake scene in the lastest episode, so I made a poll and asked you guys what genre you would have liked the most, and the results were pretty telling: while 70% of voters decided on a fluff version, 30% wanted to see angst, so I resolved into making both! This is the fluff version: you can find the pool here and the angst version here. Enjoy!!

The gentle lull of the waves rocks her body left and right, so calm and soothing that sleep comes easy to her. Shauna hasn't had a moment for herself in months, and letting the lake cradle her feels appropriate somehow. The weather is warm, the sky is blue and her heart is finally free from the sadness winter brought to it.

She spent so long in the cold that she didn't remember what summer used to feel like.

Her ears pick up on the sounds beneath her: bubbles of oxygen rising to the surface, currents that collide with each other, and in the distance, an infant's laughs. Her body moves before her brain can process the sound, eyes drawn to the shore, frantically searching for him. She finds him under the sun, merely visible from the middle of the lake, looking like a little fat bundle of you as he absolutely laughs his ass off at your peek-a-boos.

She can see his little arms reaching for your face, stopping as you hide your face behind your hands, then clapping his as you reappear once again.

How old is he by now? Several months, at least, but not old enough for him to walk on his own. Something Shauna has always thought, since he was born, is that if they ever come back, she will never know his birthday.

A warmth that she didn't think she'd ever felt fills Shauna's heart: she can't imagine a world in which he's not by her side. And you, so simple and gentle, so patient with her, so lovely, raising her boy at her side.

Back on the shore, you see Shauna swimming towards you and you stand up from your position, but the pain of spending several minutes crouched on the flat stone where you the boy down his too much for your legs to bear, and you fall comically to the ground, his laugh a soundtrack for your embarrassment.

"Hey! Don't laugh, kid!" you hush him down, going for tickling his little belly.

"You've already got all of your mom's attention, just let me get some!".

"What do you want?" A shiver runs down your spine at the familiar voice, following it to see Shauna smiling at you with a hint of smugness behind her lips. Her locks fall to the sides of her neck, darkened by water.

Shit, she got you.

"N-nothing! Here you go!" you take him in your arms, handling him to Shauna as if he was a bag of potatoes.

In her arms, he looks like the most perfect thing in the world. You can only describe the way Shauna's eyes look at her baby as simple, true and pure love. There has never been a love so deep on this earth.

There is something so simply natural in the way she exposes her chest and angles his neck up so her can drink from her. A summer ago, you would have probably made a snarky comment, would have been weirded out by all of this, crunching your nose in disgust; but as you watch her feed her son with such love that it could make you cry, nothing like that crosses your mind.

But the stillness doesn't last long, and just as she tucks her breast back in the dress, she looks at you, a mixture of interest and smugness in her eyes.

"So, you want my attention?"; when she says that, you feel like a total jerk. What possessed you to say such a thing out loud, right to her baby?

But you do: you do want her attention. You want her to look at you, to kiss you as she did before, to have her as she had you during the winter. Maybe you should tell her, what danger could that be?

"No. It was stupid of me to say that. He's your son, he has to be your top priority" you find yourself staring at the burnt yellow grass below, avoiding Shauna's gaze. How fucking embarrassing... But before your brain can spiral into self-hating, Shauna presses her lips on your skin, between your nose and your cheek. She stops briefly to look you in the eyes, so dark you can see your reflection in the summer's sunlight.

"You're mine" she says, bringing her lips to your cheek now, holding her baby close to her heart, "You are both mine".