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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
“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.
“…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.
“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.
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.
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.
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.
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.”
“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.
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.”
the silence stretches. she lets it.
“…do you still hate me?” she asks after a moment.
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 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?”
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.”
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.
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.
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 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.”
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.
“if you’re with winter i swear to god—”
“ning,” you interrupt quickly, “please. don’t do this right now.”
“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?”
ningning groans. “you are so unserious. you are so—”
you hang up, and minjeong is glaring.
you raise an eyebrow. “she was worried.”
“you let her ruin our moment,” she mutters.
“you looked sad. i was being nice.”
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.”
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.”
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 sigh and nod toward the stool across from you. “sit before you fall over.” she smirks. “yes, ma’am.”
“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.
“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’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.”
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?”
her grin is immediate. smug. obnoxious. “you want me to be good?”
“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 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.”
her voice drops. “i know.”
you look at her again. “so don’t get comfortable.”
her gaze doesn’t waver. “i’m not.”
“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.
“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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
“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.
“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.
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.
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.”
“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.
but you don’t want her to stop.
“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.
“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.”
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.
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?”
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
minjeong: good tasting you again
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.
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 🔥🔥🔥
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