hellokittyfeenie

[hellokittyfeenie]

I’M SO EASYYY FOR HERRR

i need to be sedated immediately look at those eyes...,,.tHE TATTOOS ?????? judea watkins 😫😫😫😫😫😩

[hellokittyfeenie]

'ive had worst days' until they seen me the day of juju's acl tear.

[hellokittyfeenie]

No literally when I saw the post I got up and applauded and jumped for joy 🤭🤭🤭

me every 5 seconds when i remember what azzi posted

[hellokittyfeenie]

This is sooo cutee

walk with me now, juju and her gf arguing because juju hasn’t been around lately and reader gets tired of it, and they’ve been ignoring each since so to get her mind off of things her bsf takes her out to a party or smth, juju finds out and is mad because reader didn’t tell her where she was going, and a other stuff but idk what

𖥻 COLD COUCH. juju watkins x reader

reblogs + comments are more appreciated than likes.

synopsis: juju’s absence leaves nothing but a cold couch you wake up to and a hole in your heart that you try to fill—lucky for you, your girlfriend has common sense.

notes: hi lovely! i’m so sorry i got to this request so late, i thank you for your patience. juju and the reader don’t necessarily ignore eachother for long, but they definitely don’t speak for long enough to be concerned!!! this all happens in the span of one day because me thinks juju would never leave you with a heavy heart for too long… unless it’s toxic juju. but this isn’t toxic juju nonono … but anyways !!! i did my best to make your vision come true and i hope you enjoy it <3

cw: arguing, juju is a tiny bit conceited but guys she’s a celebrity, partying, reader drinks alcohol but not to the point it’s detrimental, kind of fast paced because i’m using dividers, reader and juju are both down bad in their own ways

juju has shit to do.

it can’t be helped, and you know that. she’s juju watkins— the face of women’s collegiate basketball, with multiple awards to show for it. but juju, in all ten months and fourteen days of being your girlfriend, has never once missed a date. she made sure to make time for you, always showing up and going an extra mile: flowers, ironed outfits, an extra clean car even though it’s already clean, and most of all—the biggest smile on her face. you loved that part the most; the telling sign she was happy to see you, to spend time with you, to relax.

you haven’t seen that smile in a while. that’s usually what occurs when you date a D1 athlete with like 20 NIL deals.

you haven’t seen that smile in a long time.

you thought you would be able to. you had texted juju two weeks ahead of time telling her to keep herself free today, tonight, and you had tore the internet apart finding the best recipes—subsequently ending up with a splitting headache from looking at the directions too much to make sure you followed them perfectly. perfect; that’s what you wanted this night to be. you’d greet juju with a kiss to her cheek and a tight hug, then you’d eat dinner, then you’d watch a movie, you’d cuddle— juju would fall asleep first, hopefully, and then you’d steal her hoodie because she always took off her hoodies whenever she wanted to cuddle with you. she’d pretend she didn’t know you stole it, and she’d leave the next morning feeling lighter in more ways than one. the first because she didn't have her hoodie on, and the second because you soothed her enough to, for once, just stay in the present.

you hoped you’d be able to bring her the peace you knew she deserved. you set up the table, and even had the blankets and pillows all ready. infact? netflix’s searchbar was already waiting—and as you plated juju’s portion of the dinner you hoped you cooked right, the only thing you were waiting for was juju.

juju, who should’ve been here by now.

did she get caught up in traffic? she should’ve texted about that. she hasn’t texted you at all today.

she hasn’t texted you a lot in general these past few weeks.

you sit on the edge of your kitchen counter despite the chair you already pulled out being right infront of you, because a part of you— your heart—does not want to sit alone. you scroll through your phone absentmindedly, until a notification snaps you out of your zone. it’s juju.

juju posted something on her story—another common mainstream logo in your face directly confirming it’s some sort of brand deal— and... wait, why would she be posting about brand deals? isn’t she supposed to be on her way to you right now? she said she’d be able to make it.

you search for answers.

you find out it wasn’t just a brand deal, but a brand trip. juju’s not even in the same area code as you right now. juju’s away.

you call her the moment that it clicks.

the phone rings for way too long, and you count the seventh ring before she picks up with an exasperated, “what? what is it?”

you don’t speak.

she repeats your name, impossibly more exasperated: “what is it? i’m on a cruise right now—“

“your food is cold.” you say, simply. there is silence on the other line and you don’t know if it is from realization and subsequent guilt, or complete and utter apathy. you don’t want it to be the latter. you don’t speak any more.

judea’s voice comes out on the other end of the line. it’s slow, low, and barely apologetic. “i had a last minute offer.”

“and you didn’t think to tell them you weren’t free today? tonight? because you would be— or you were meant to be having dinner with your girlfriend?” you reply, snappy, your sweaty hand gripping your already-heating-up phone too tight. you’re exasperated, obviously. you saw juju mark this date on her calendar app— she had it labelled ‘date with my baby’ with three exclamation marks. god forbid you believe she’s genuinely eager to see you.

you hear her click her tongue on the other line. “i warned you about shit like this,” she responds, her tone more angry than exasperated—more uncaring than the (barely) apologetic tone you previously heard.

“i scheduled this with you two weeks in advance, ju,” you countered, “don’t give me that excuse. don’t- don’t even give me excuses.” you choke on your words, simultaneously choking on your own pride. you wait. she speaks again, and it’s another excuse.

you go back and forth.

“i just haven’t seen you in a while, and i missed you,” you say,

“i’ve been busy, you know how it is,” she replies,

“but you promised you’d be able to make it.”

“see now, i didn’t promise—“

“you said you’d be able to make it, juju.” you interrupt.

“yeah, and i just got … sidetracked.”

sidetracked?

sidetracked?

“what do you mean?” you ask.

“you know what i mean, ma,” she murmured,

“no. i don’t. you said you could come last week— but now you’re not even here because of a last minute offer. am i being put to the side now?” your response is curt, and by now, things get noticeably more tense.

“god, can you stop doing that?” juju says on the other end.

“doing what? i’m just saying the truth—“ you tried to reason, because— side tracked? did she mean she put you on the sidelines? what did she mean? more importantly, what else could she possibly mean?

“it’s not always about you.” juju says, finally.

she’s right, and you say so.

“you’re right,” you say, voice breaking. “it’s not always about me. that’s why i haven’t been texting that much, or asking to hang out,” you begin, “or asking for too much,” there’s a lump in your throat, and a crack in your heart, but you press on. “because i know you’ve been busy. but juju, you said you’d be—“

“and now i can’t.” her voice cuts, her tone cutting. juju isn’t yelling, but her voice is low and outright cruel when she says your name— she says it as if it disgusts her to say, and when you hear her on the other end, your ears start to ring.

“i’m a fucking celebrity,” she continues, “i can’t be at your beck and call immediately when you say,”

“that’s why i scheduled you two weeks in—“ you tried to interrupt,

“yeah, and this brand's been eyeing me for way longer—come on, i couldn’t flake out on a deal like this. they asked for whenever i was available, and tonight was really the only night because it was just you—“

you end the call.

it’s just you, she says. it’s just you. juju obviously doesn’t want your company, doesn’t she?

it can be just her now.

you eat your plate alone. it’s still warm, but that doesn’t mean it’s good; the call with juju left a bad taste in your mouth. now juju’s plate is in the fridge labelled as leftovers you’ll probably never eat. you remove the extra pillow from your couch and use both blankets for yourself, playing another episode of your favorite show, tuning out the entire night despite hoping with all of your heart that you’ll have missed calls and texts from juju when you next check your phone.

you feel the lump in your throat still. you swallow it.

you wake up in the morning on the same couch, and you shiver at how cold it is. juju usually brought you the warmth.

you check your phone and you can’t swallow the lump anymore.

there are no notifications. your friend, bree, texted you about some party and how all her ‘fyne shyts’ were coming, but you could barely read the rest of the text because of how blurry your eyes were.

there were no calls. there were no texts.

not from her.

there was only silence, and it sent you into a spiral.

bree opens the door with the extra house key you gave her and a single knock to see you slumped across your couch completely and utterly miserable. you look at her, and she looks at you—bree, psychology major, miss know it all, looks at you and instantly knows.

“trouble in paradise?”

you burst into tears. bree’s kitten heels clack on your floor as she sits next to you and places your head in her lap, urging you to vent it out. “it’s good to get stuff like this out, hun,” she murmurs, “i’m saying this as a future therapist.”

you, three minutes into your wailing, will yourself to calm down for a moment— usually, when bree says that, it means she has something else to say, but “as my friend?”

your hunch is correct. bree tilts her head and looks down at your very miserable form curled up into a fetal position. “i say we get wasted tonight.”

“okay.”

that’s how you’re here now.

the bass is booming in your ears, and usually you’d leave solely because it’d make your head hurt—but right now, your heart hurts more. you could care less about the head ache you know you’ll get. you’re free right now. your phone’s charged, your arm is entwined with bree’s, and with every click of your heels you grow livelier. eyes flutter towards you by instinct, and they stay on you—you’re not wearing anything given to you by juju. this is your dress, these are your heels, and this is your jewelry— everyone seems to get the message.

tonight, you speak for yourself.

you’re bound to judea, but she isn’t pulling her leash, so you’ll stray. you’ll stray far, until she either lets go or you choke yourself.

bree looks at you with a soft smile, and tells you to drink safe knowing you’ll get absolutely knackered whether or not you drink. she pinky promises not to separate from you.

the gods may not have blessed you with a good week, but they’ve blessed you with a good friend.

she keeps the promise.

three hours in, and your heels are already off and in your hands, and you’re three drinks in, and you’re dancing, and bree has her arm around you and is singing the lyrics to the hollywood undead song playing. you are on top of the world but the ache has not subsided.

you’re sober enough to know you can’t drink the ache away.

so you choose to dance longer.

until your feet ache even more than your head, and your head aches more than your heart— until your legs are numb and your right hand is tired from holding your heels. but somehow, the ache, as small as it should be, is still the one you feel the most.

you don’t stop dancing.

the police crash through the back door.

you run straight for the front, with bree hot on your heel, and an unfinished cup of coca-cola and… something mixed into it, and your heels. the ice in the glass cup is melted so you throw it into the patch of grass near you. bree ends up more wasted than you are, and she, giggly, says that you watered the plants. you have no idea how she saw water in your cup when it was legit an abyss of dark brown... you know, the coca cola color? but maybe that’s why she’s more drunk than you.

the campus is not far from this party. you don’t mind walking barefoot. bree can crash at your place tonight, you owe her this much.

you are so focused on looking forward, as if there is any hope left for you, and keeping bree steady, that you don’t really pay attention to the fact that there’s a car coming up right behind you, who probably went over the speed limit just to. you also don’t notice when the car lowers it’s passenger seat window.

but you do notice when juju yells your name from the drivers seat.

your head whips around so fast you nearly drop bree, who’s taken to being slung across your shoulder. “what the fuc— juju? juju, it’s—“

“yeah, yeah i do know what time it is, genius. get in the goddamn car.” she snaps, unlocking the door as you open the backseat to gently place bree in. you get into the passengers seat next to juju.

she looks worried sick.

it’s three minutes into the car ride when the lyft that juju apparently called, and paid, for bree whisks her away from the two of you—and it’s four minutes in that you stay in complete silence out of your own shock.

in the empty car, as you drive to what you recognize is not the way to your dormitory but to juju’s apartment— you muster up the courage to break it.

“how are you here?” your voice is soft.

juju doesn’t answer for a good while, but when she does, her voice is impossibly softer.

“i have your location.”

“that's not what i meant. i thought you still had the brand trip.”

“i left early.”

“what?” you say, incredulously. juju doesn’t say anything. she parks, and then she gets out of the car—and before you can even open your door, she’s already helping you out. as you walk? you pry for answers.

“juju, i don’t think you can do that—“

“i’m a celebrity, i can do .. basically? anything.”

“juju.” you scoff. “you’re not serious. it’s just me—“

“it’s not.” juju interrupts this time, so firm it makes you lose your track of mind— her hand, once wrapped around your wrist, lowers itself and softens its grip. it intertwines with your fingers. “it’s not just you.” she repeats, visibly regretting her choices of words last night. “it’s you. you get it?”

“truthfully, no.”

“bro—I,” juju stutters, chokes even, on her own words, fumbling like she’s fumbling with the keys to her apartment right now—“i mean that…” she restarts, “i mean that i’m sorry, okay?”

you stand still in your pretty dress and high heels. you stand frozen until she pulls you in. she closes the door and she takes your face into her hands, and her palms are warm, and she is warm.

warmth. that’s what you were missing.

the ache disappears.

and then you start crying.

“you’re such a fucking asshole sometimes.”

“oh, baby,” juju immediately coos. “i know,” she says, pulling you into her chest, her right hand stroking your head while her left hand pulls you in close by the waist. “i’m sorry.” she whispers. “i’m so sorry, baby. i wasn’t thinking. i’m sorry. i got my common sense back, yeah? i’m here now. i’m here, baby—please don’t cry.” she whispers. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” she repeats, sinking down to the floor with you—“i got you gifts, ma?” she offers. “got you so many gifts.”

“i just wanted you.” you say through a rather pathetic voice crack.

it only makes juju even more apologetic.

“i’m so fucking sorry baby. i’ll make it up to you, okay? i’ll make it up to you. come onn, prettiest girl—“ she whispers, kissing your temple, smoothing down your hair and getting it out of your face. you finally look up, still mad but not able to resist her—and you breath a shaky sigh.

“there she is,” juju says anyway, because the fact you’re looking at her is progress. “my girl.” she continues, “my girl who set up a whole dinner for me, set it all up for me, my girl who worked so hard— my girl who missed me s’much—shhh, baby, i’m here, i’m here,”

you find yourself squeezing tighter. she’s here now. that’s all you've really wanted.

she ends up cleaning you up, putting you in what she knows is your favorite hoodie (hers), carrying you, bridal style, to her couch—wraps you up in a little blanket burrito and places you on her chest where she can kiss your forehead easy. this time, she has netflix opened and ready—and she knows exactly what to have you guys watch: your favorite show that you’ve watched over seventy times, but can’t seem to get tired of.

your eyes are blown wide, focused entirely on snuggling into her hoodie and at the show you’re watching, and you’re too lost in your own post-party, post-argument, post-bad week bliss that you don’t notice juju spends every second looking at you.

you just know that it’s warm.

her hands are wrapped around you, and she’s so warm. and she’s saying sorry. and her voice is soft and it makes you sleepy.

so you close your eyes, and you start to fall harder for her, and simultaneously start to fall asleep.

there is no ache anymore. and you know it is not okay yet, but it will be.

but for now, the awareness that you will not wake up to a cold, empty couch—that's enough.

@likelysobbing.

[hellokittyfeenie]

Literally the best juju fix I ever read, we need more fics of juju getting pleasure 💝💝

ANYTiME, ANY PLACE 🥵 — JUJU WATKiNS

✐˚ ༘ WORD COUNT | 9.3k

✐˚ ༘ SYNOPSiS | you’re two years juju’s senior and the california native has had the biggest crush on you throughout the two years that you’ve played alongside one another. she loves the way that you’re kind, yet still assertive. you’ve somewhat have taken juju under your wing and your leadership alone makes her turn into putty. one night, the two of you get particularly close and for a while, all is well— until it isn’t. juju becomes distant and closed off, and it begins to bleed into practice as well. you make it your mission to find out why and cut through the tension.

✐˚ ༘ WARNiNGS | 18+, smut, car sex, semi-public sex, sub! juju, dom! reader, slight angst, fingering (j! receiving), generally soft smut, mutual pining, love declarations mid-nut (🌚), cuteness overall!

✐˚ ༘ MiMiS NOTES | okay generally i’m not a huge fan of car sex but i’m honestly just tired of writing smut that takes place in a fucking bed, i needed a different setting for a change. y’all were so patient waiting for this fic, give yourselves a pat on the back bc i couldn’t get myself into the groove of writing smut for like FOREVER so thank you all for hanging in there. this is the longest smut i’ve written yet, so i hope this makes up for the wait. enjoy 💖

the music is loud, but not enough to drown out the way juju’s heart is thudding in her ears.

they’re at some rooftop spot downtown—team bonding night, coach’s orders. it’s warm, lights strung overhead like stars that got tired of the sky. everyone’s laughing, dancing, taking pictures for instagram stories and tiktoks, but juju’s eyes haven’t left you since you walked in.

you showed up late, of course. not rudely, just… in your own time. in that slow, confident way you do everything. your hair’s done, hoops in, that little smirk playing at your lips. you dapped up a couple teammates, leaned in for a hug from kennedy, and then caught juju’s eye across the room.

“there goes my favorite,” you called, grinning.

her face flushed right away, even though you probably didn’t mean it like that. probably say that to everybody. but still.

now, you’re surrounded—everybody here wants you. and juju watches, her cup of sprite going flat in her hand, pretending she’s not staring.

you’re magnetic. always have been. confident but never arrogant. funny, but quiet when you want to be. you carry yourself like someone who knows exactly who she is—and juju’s never been able to stop looking.

flashback: practice, early in the season

juju had slipped trying to pivot, sneakers squealing on the hardwood. she hit the court hard, biting back a wince, and before coach even looked her way, you were already jogging over.

“damn, babyface. you okay?” you asked, crouching beside her with a hand already on her elbow.

babyface. that nickname stuck in her chest like a warm ache.

“i’m good,” juju mumbled, trying to brush it off.

but you smiled and helped her up anyway, brushing her hip like you were dusting her off. “ain’t no shame. court’s just tryna flirt.”

juju blinked, flustered. you jogged back down the court like you didn’t just turn her entire world upside down.

you haven’t noticed her watching you tonight. or maybe you have and you’re just good at pretending you haven’t. either way, juju stands near the edge of the crowd, half-swaying to the music, not really talking to anybody.

you’re dancing with kennedy now, moving your hips to the beat, laughing with your head tilted back, the light catching your smile just right. your arm lifts, waving at someone else, and juju can’t help but think, damn, how does she do that? how does she glow like that?

she wants to talk to you. wants to be cool. but every time she’s near you, she goes all soft. words get caught in her throat. she swears her knees go weak when you get too close.

like that time—

flashback: post-practice scrimmage

juju hit a tough and-1, and the team was already hyping her up, but you jogged over and gave her a quick smack on the butt.

“that’s what i’m talkin’ bout, baby girl.”

it was casual. sportsmanship. the kind of thing that happened all the time.

but juju’s whole body flushed. she couldn’t even look you in the eye as she walked to the line to shoot her free throw. her hands were shaking. her ears burned. and you? you just winked at her and turned away like you didn’t just set her on fire.

the music switches. something slow. smooth. you nod along to it, mouthing the lyrics, and juju swears your eyes flick toward her.

for a second, she forgets how to breathe.

“you okay?” kennedy bumps her shoulder.

“huh? yeah. yeah, i’m good.”

“you keep looking like you’re in love or something.”

juju nearly chokes on air.

“what? no. nah.”

kennedy raises a brow, smirking. “mmhmm. tell that to your red-ass cheeks, lightskin ass.”

she doesn’t know how to tell you that you’re everything. that the way you move, the way you talk to her, the way you treat everyone with respect—but save something special for her—makes her feel like she could fall for you if she let herself.

she doesn’t know how to say you make me nervous and i think about you when you laugh and i wanna be yours.

but then you start walking toward her.

slow.

on purpose.

like you already know she’s been watching.

“hey,” you say, stopping right in front of her.

juju swallows hard. “hey.”

“you good? you been quiet tonight.”

she shrugs. “just… chillin’.”

you smile at her, warm and easy. “you look cute tonight.”

she looks away, heat rushing to her cheeks. “don’t do that.”

“do what?” you grin. “compliment you? tell you the truth?”

“yeah. that.”

you lean in a little, voice dropping. “why? you don’t like it when i call you cute, babyface?”

she bites her lip to keep from smiling, eyes flicking up to yours. “i didn’t say that.”

“good. ‘cause i been waiting all night to come talk to you. couldn’t get your attention with everybody else around.”

juju blinks. “you… wanted my attention?”

you nod, soft but sure. “been wantin’ it for a while, ju. but you’re so shy with me.”

she can’t deny that.

you reach out, lightly brushing her hand with yours. “come dance with me?”

her voice comes out small. “you sure?”

“always been sure about you.”

she doesn’t know how her legs move, but suddenly she’s following you to the middle of the floor, hands tentative on your hips as you guide her into the rhythm. your bodies close, barely any space between.

the music fades around her. all she hears is your voice.

“everybody here wants you, ju,” you whisper in her ear, “but i want you the most.”

and juju smiles, all bashful and starry-eyed.

because finally, she doesn’t have to just watch you from across the room.

she gets to have you right here, in her arms.

the music dips into something old-school, soft drums and a smooth bassline curling around them like smoke. your hands settle comfortably on juju’s waist, while hers nervously hover at first, then rest just above your hips, fingers barely clutching your jacket like she’s afraid to hold on too tight.

juju sways with you, slow and clumsy at first, her brows furrowing like she’s trying to count the beat in her head.

“you tryna do math right now?” you tease gently.

she laughs—shy, sweet. “nah. just tryna make sure i don’t step on your toes.”

“you’re good. just relax.”

you pull her in a little closer and her hands tighten without thinking. her forehead dips, barely brushing yours, and it’s like time folds around the two of you. people move past, voices in the background, but none of it matters. not with the way juju’s eyes soften every time she looks at you.

“can i tell you something?” she says, almost whispering.

“anything.”

she glances down, then back up. “i feel like i’m in a movie right now.”

you smile, slow and crooked. “oh yeah?”

“yeah,” she murmurs. “like, the kind where the girl finally gets the girl and it’s all romantic and corny and she says something stupid and messes it up.”

“you think you messin’ this up?” you ask, leaning your cheek toward hers, noses nearly touching now.

“not yet. but i’m real close.”

you laugh under your breath, and it melts her a little. “you wanna be corny? be corny.”

“okay,” juju says, licking her lips like she’s nervous. “um… you smell like heaven.”

you pause, eyes squinting playfully. “heaven?”

“yeah,” she grins now, cheeks red as hell. “like… god took his time and added cocoa butter or something.”

you laugh louder this time, forehead falling to her shoulder as your arms wrap around her neck. juju holds you tighter, laughing with you now, that belly-deep giggle she only lets out when she’s really at ease.

when you look up again, her face is right there. open. unguarded.

and your thumb brushes her cheek like second nature.

“juju,” you whisper.

“yeah?”

“you ever gonna kiss me, or you gon’ keep flirtin’ all night?”

she swallows once. twice. “if i kiss you, you sure you won’t disappear on me?”

“i’m right here,” you promise, voice like honey. “and i want you to.”

she leans in then—slow, like she’s not sure if the world will let this moment happen. but when your lips meet hers, soft and full and warm, it’s like the noise disappears.

the rooftop, the team, the lights strung above—none of it matters.

it’s just her. and you. dancing like time stopped.

juju’s never danced like this before—not in front of people, and definitely not in front of you.

you’re close. too close. close enough that the bass from the rooftop speakers feels like it’s thudding straight through her chest, but it’s got nothing on her heart right now.

your arms are around her waist, easy and confident. hers are looped loosely around your neck, fingers brushing your shoulders every so often when she gets brave enough to pull you just a little closer.

“you good?” you ask, voice low like you don’t want to ruin the moment.

juju nods, trying not to look like she’s short-circuiting. “yeah. just, uh… trying not to pass out or step on your feet.”

you laugh, eyes soft. “you’re fine, ju. you’re doin’ perfect.”

she exhales, a little too loudly. “thank god. ’cause i was one wrong step away from ending up on an embarrassing tiktok.”

you grin. “nah, if you fall, i’ll catch you.”

her blush deepens instantly, and she hides it by tucking her chin down and into your shoulder. her voice is muffled when she says, “see, that’s what gets me. you say stuff like that and now my knees feel like noodles.”

“noodles, huh?”

“like… ramen. no spine.”

you pull back just enough to see her face, your smile slow and warm. “you always this dramatic when you like someone?”

juju stiffens. then tries to recover with a weak laugh. “who said i like you?”

you raise a brow. “you just called your knees ramen, babyface.”

she groans and hides her face again. “damn, i really did.”

you hold her tighter. “it’s okay. i like you too, ju.”

her head lifts at that, and when her eyes meet yours, they’re full of wonder. like she’s still trying to believe you said it.

she swallows. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

the world is still going—music playing, people laughing, cameras flashing—but none of it touches the bubble that’s wrapped around the two of you.

“i’m… not smooth,” juju says, glancing at your lips, then away again. “so if this goes bad, we pretend it didn’t happen?”

“nah,” you whisper. “if this goes bad, i’m still gonna kiss you again.”

and that’s all she needs.

juju leans in—slow, gentle, like you’re made of something holy. her lips brush yours soft at first, just a touch. and then again, more sure. her hand slides up the back of your neck, fingers curling there, like maybe she’s finally letting herself want what she’s been dreaming about.

you kiss her back—easy, deep, sweet.

everything else fades. it’s just her lips on yours, your bodies swaying gently, the heat of her blush blooming against your cheek.

when you finally pull back, juju’s breathing a little heavier, eyes still closed like she’s scared she’ll open them and wake up.

“told you,” you whisper, brushing your thumb across her jaw. “just us.”

she opens her eyes, smiling like she’s never been kissed before.

“okay,” she says, grinning, still breathless. “but also… can we do that again? just for scientific purposes.”

you laugh and pull her back in, right there in the middle of it all.

and for juju, nothing’s ever felt more quiet, more still, more right.

it’s been a few days since that rooftop kiss.

since juju melted into you like you were the only thing anchoring her to the ground. since she held your face like she was afraid to break it. since she looked at you like you were the start and end of everything.

and now?

now she barely looks at you at all.

you try not to let it get to you—at first. you chalk it up to stress, school, training. but after the third practice where she won’t meet your eyes, the fifth missed call, and the second time she gives you a stiff “i’m good” after you ask if something’s wrong, you start to wonder what the hell happened.

you replay everything in your head—every soft word, every kiss against your jaw, every time she lingered when you brushed her curls off her forehead. she wanted this. you know she did.

but now? it’s like she’s trying not to want it at all.

and it’s driving you crazy.

the real trouble starts the next afternoon.

you’re sitting in the locker room lacing up your shoes when you hear them talking about it—some movie dropping that weekend, a team outing already halfway planned. someone mentions popcorn. someone else says they’re bringing a blanket because those theater seats get cold. everyone’s laughing, hyped.

then someone calls over to juju.

“you coming tonight?”

you glance up without thinking, already expecting the usual—juju nodding with a grin, flashing that easy smile that always makes half the room melt.

but instead, she pauses.

“nah,” she says, tone clipped. “i’ma sit this one out.”

it’s quiet for a second, just long enough for it to feel weird. just long enough for a couple heads to turn.

you frown. “you don’t wanna come?”

juju barely looks at you. “nah.”

and that’s it. no smile. no inside joke. no playful deflection. just one word, clean and final, like she’s locking a door you didn’t know was open.

you try not to let your face show it, but something curls tight in your chest.

because five days ago—

that night was everything.

you and juju, tucked into the corner of that party, barely lit by the strings of overhead lights, city sprawled behind her like a painting. your knees had brushed first, innocent. then her fingers had found yours, tentative. and then, after an hour of stolen glances and shy touches, she leaned in, soft and sure.

you’d kissed her slow. careful. like you were building something instead of just taking.

and she kissed you back like she was starving for it. her hands had slid up your arms, curled behind your neck, mouth parting like she’d been holding that breath for weeks.

when you pulled away, she’d rested her forehead against yours, eyes fluttered shut, whispering your name like it had weight.

so what changed in just some hours?

the others don’t notice. the conversation moves on. plans get finalized, and someone claps you on the back, asking if you’re riding with them. you nod, distracted.

you don’t want to make it a thing. maybe she’s tired. maybe something came up. but when you glance across the room again, juju’s already standing, already slipping on her hoodie, already heading for the exit.

you call after her.

“hey, ju!”

she stops—but doesn’t turn around.

“you sure you’re not coming?” your voice is careful now, quiet.

there’s a beat. then she lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “i got stuff.”

stuff.

you let the door swing shut behind her.

at the theater, you laugh when everyone else laughs. you eat the popcorn, drink the soda, nod when someone leans over to comment on a scene. but your heart isn’t there.

it’s back at that night.

the way her lips felt against yours. the way her fingers trembled just a little when she pulled you closer. the way she looked at you right after, eyes soft, smile crooked like she’d finally let herself have something she’d wanted for so long.

and now she won’t even look at you.

you replay it, over and over, trying to figure out what you missed. did you move too fast? read her wrong?

or maybe it’s not about you at all.

maybe she’s scared.

maybe the weight of it hit her all at once—the wanting, the needing, the possibility of something real—and instead of leaning in, she panicked. maybe she’s pushing you away because it’s easier than being seen.

easier than admitting she wants you.

because juju’s always been in control. always had that quiet, unshakable cool. and maybe what’s happening between you doesn’t fit into that. maybe she’s fighting something inside herself, and you’re just the closest thing to touch when it burns too hot.

you don’t text her that night.

you don’t want to push.

but when you lie in bed later, lights off, movie still playing in your head, you think about the way her mouth tasted like cherry and nerves. you think about how hard she held on for a second, like she didn’t want to let go.

and you hope—god, you hope—that eventually, she lets herself want you out loud. without the fear. without the running.

but tonight, you fall asleep wondering if you’ll ever get that version of her again.

the breaking point comes on a thursday.

practice is intense—the kind where the gym feels like a furnace, everyone’s drenched, and coach is on one, pushing through every drill like there’s a championship on the line. you’re locked in, calling plays, setting screens, keeping the rhythm smooth.

juju’s on fire. like she’s trying to outrun something.

she’s everywhere—diving for loose balls, driving the lane with a kind of controlled chaos, jaw clenched like she’s mad at the court itself.

you watch her closely. not just because she’s juju, but because something’s off. even when she scores, her eyes never light up. even when you pat her back—quick, familiar—she flinches like your touch burns.

after practice, you catch her slipping out the locker room early, hoodie half on, curls wild, and you move quick.

“wait, ju,” you call, and she freezes mid-step.

she doesn’t turn. just says, “i’m tired. catch you later.”

that’s it.

no look. no smile. no anything.

you’re tired of being brushed off and left questioning what you thought you knew. and that’s when you know for sure—something’s gotta give.

you find her in the side gym later, after most of the team’s cleared out.

she’s sitting on the bleachers, hoodie pulled up, elbows on her knees, staring at the empty court. you stand there for a second, watching her.

even now, your chest tightens just looking at her.

“you avoiding me?” you ask gently, stepping down to her level.

she doesn’t look up. “nah. just been… in my head.”

you sit beside her, letting the silence settle for a beat. “you mad at me or something?”

that makes her glance at you—quick and guilty. “no.”

you nod, jaw tightening. “you act like you are.”

she sighs, palms rubbing over her thighs like she’s trying to work something out. “i’m not mad. i just… it’s stupid.”

“juju.” you lean in slightly, voice softer now. “don’t do that. if something’s on your chest, talk to me.”

her jaw tics. she looks at you again—really looks—and then breaks eye contact almost instantly. her voice is low. hoarse. “every time you touch me, it drives me crazy.”

you blink, caught off guard. “what?”

“i mean—” she groans, dragging her hands down her face. “i know it’s not your fault, but like… the little stuff? the way you talk to me. the way you touch me after plays. the way you look at me like you know every thought in my head…”

she trails off, shoulders tense.

“…and you don’t like it?” you ask, careful.

“no, i do,” she says quickly, finally turning to face you again. “i like it too much.”

you go quiet, eyes searching hers.

“you kissed me,” she says, barely above a whisper. “you kissed me and everything inside me’s been burning since. like, i can’t even sleep right. every time you get close, it’s like my body forgets how to function.”

you let that settle between you. let her confess like she’s been holding it in with two fists clenched behind her back.

“so instead of telling me,” you say slowly, “you just pulled away?”

juju nods, ashamed. “i thought it’d calm down if i made space. but it didn’t. it just got worse. now every time you even look at me, i feel like i’m about to lose it.”

your voice softens. “lose what?”

she hesitates. “control.”

you lean in then, elbow brushing hers. “juju… do you want me to stop touching you?”

“no,” she says instantly, voice breaking. “i want the opposite. and that’s what scares me.”

you stay quiet for a beat, then reach out—slow, deliberate—fingers grazing her thigh.

“you think i don’t feel that too?” you ask, thumb drawing a small circle.

she shivers, breath catching. her knees press together like instinct. “you—do?”

“every time i’m around you, it’s like gravity’s stronger. like my whole body knows when you’re in the room.”

her lips part, eyes wide. you slide your hand up to her jaw, tilting her face to you.

“baby, you ever think maybe we don’t gotta be afraid of how good this feels?”

juju leans into your palm. “but what if it ruins things?”

“then we take it slow. we talk through it. but we don’t run from it.”

she closes her eyes for a moment. when she opens them again, they’re darker. hungrier.

“you can’t keep touching me like that if you don’t wanna finish what you start,” she murmurs.

you smile—low and a little dangerous. “who said i didn’t?”

and when you kiss her, it’s nothing like the rooftop.

it’s heat and tension and weeks of built-up pressure finally snapping. her fingers curl into your hoodie, pulling you closer like she’s starved for you. your tongue sweeps against hers and she moans, quiet and desperate into your mouth.

you press her back gently against the bleachers, keeping the pace slow even though your pulse is hammering. her hands tug at your waist, her hips shifting, needing you near.

you pull back just enough to look down at her.

“still want me to stop?” you whisper.

she shakes her head, lips kiss-bitten, eyes glossy.

“then stop runnin’,” you murmur, lips brushing her jaw, “and let me love you, ju.”

her breath hitches, and she nods—eyes fluttering closed like surrender.

“okay,” she says, voice breaking. “i’m done running.”

your jaw tightens. god, you want to give it to her. right here, against the mats padding the walls, with her breath catching and your name falling out her mouth like prayer.

but this place is risky. too risky. the hallway outside isn’t locked. a trainer could walk in. a teammate. and juju’s name is always one headline away from scrutiny.

you lean in, pressing your lips to her ear, voice low and deliberate. “not here.”

juju whines softly, hips instinctively rocking up into your thigh. “but you—”

“baby,” you cut her off, tone gentler now, one hand moving to cup the side of her face. “i’m not about to rush this just ‘cause we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves. you deserve more than this gym. let me take you somewhere we don’t have to worry about who’s listening.”

she nods again, but it’s not without hesitation. she’s burning for you. you can feel it in the way her fingers slide down, grazing the hem of your sweatshirt, trying to sneak under. you catch her wrist gently.

“don’t tempt me,” you murmur, forehead pressing to hers.

her voice is shaky. “i can’t stop thinking about you. how you sound. how you feel.”

“i know,” you say, eyes locked on hers. “and you’re gonna get it—all of it. but not with a security camera over our heads.”

she exhales, slow, like trying to gather herself. but even then, her thumb brushes your waistband. “just one more kiss?”

you smirk, leaning in. “just one.”

you kiss her like you mean it—deep, possessive, your tongue brushing hers as your hand slides down her back, holding her in place, reminding her that you’re in control. she melts under your touch, fingers digging into you like she never wants to let go.

you pull away breathless, heart pounding. “let’s go.”

she nods, cheeks flushed, lips bruised. “okay.”

the gym door clicks shut behind you, and before you can even take a full step forward, juju’s already pressed up against your side. her hand slips into yours, but it’s not sweet—she’s clutching you like she’s seconds from combusting, her fingers twitchy, her thumb stroking over your knuckles like she needs the contact to survive the walk.

“can’t believe you dragged me outta there,” she mumbles, her voice low and breathy. her other hand is already on your arm, nails lightly scraping down the sleeve of your hoodie. “you’re so mean for that.”

you exhale through your nose, steady, guiding her down the sidewalk with long, composed strides. “i told you,” you say, tone even, “we’re not doing this in there.”

she groans softly, tilting her head to rest on your shoulder for a second as you walk. “but i was ready. like—really ready. you got me worked up and just—ugh.” her fingers squeeze your hand, then trail up your bicep like she’s trying to tempt you mid-stride. “you don’t play fair.”

you stop at the curb just long enough to check both sides of the campus lane before leading her across. “juju.” your voice is low, firm, not angry—just a warning laced with restraint. “keep your hands where they are.”

she laughs, exasperated. “you’re really trying to ‘floor general’ me through this right now?” but her hand obeys, dropping back to your side even though her touch lingers, her fingers brushing the hem of your shirt.

you can feel the heat rolling off her. every movement is impatient, jittery. she keeps shifting, close enough that her hip bumps into yours with every other step.

“it’s like… burning,” she murmurs, mostly to herself, like her thoughts are leaking out. “you got me aching for you and now you’re acting like we’re… i don’t fucking know.”

you smirk, but your voice stays controlled. “because someone has to be smart. you want this, i want this—but we’re not gonna ruin it being reckless in a damn campus gym.”

she huffs again but doesn’t argue. not really. just lets out another soft groan and bumps into you harder this time, slipping her arm around your waist. “i’m gonna lose my mind.”

“no, you’re not,” you say calmly, glancing ahead as your car finally comes into view. “you’re gonna get in this car, and you’re gonna be good for me.”

juju stops walking for half a second, eyes flicking to yours, pupils wide and full of something wild. “say that again.”

“get in the car,” you repeat, voice lower now, firmer. “and be good.”

that shuts her up—at least verbally. she practically rushes the rest of the way to the passenger side, pulling at the handle like the seconds it takes you to unlock it are unbearable.

you unlock the doors with a click, and before she even gets inside, she turns toward you, eyes gleaming, breath quick. her hand brushes your chest, featherlight. “you better mean it,” she whispers, right up against your jaw.

you lean in, just enough to ghost your lips over her ear.

“oh, i do.”

then you pull away, calm as ever, rounding the car while she watches you like you hung the moon and she’s seconds from snapping in half if you don’t give her exactly what she’s been begging for.

you slide into the driver’s seat with the kind of slow, deliberate ease that makes juju shift in her seat, thighs pressing together as she lets out a quiet breath, trying to compose herself. but there’s a tension in her body now—coiled and restless. the kind of tension that’s only made worse by the calm way you start the engine and adjust your mirrors like she isn’t practically vibrating beside you.

you don’t speak for a moment. you just drive, the silence thick with everything unspoken, heavy with the weight of what’s about to happen. the city lights pass over her face in fractured gold, catching in the curve of her cheekbone, the part of her lip she’s biting down on. she keeps looking over at you, fingers tapping at her thigh like she’s counting down.

“you’re quiet,” you say, glancing her way.

“you told me to be good,” she murmurs, eyes still fixed on you.

you chuckle, low and satisfied. “and you always listen so well, huh?”

she shrugs, but her smile is small, tight, like she’s barely holding it together. “sometimes.”

the ride is slow, intentional. you’re not in a rush, and you want her to feel that. every red light is a moment to let her sit with the ache you’ve stirred. every turn is an extension of your control, your silence a leash she’s learning to love the pull of. she shifts again, her hand sliding between her thighs like she’s trying to get comfortable—but you know better.

“how much longer?” she asks finally, voice breathy.

you hum like you’re thinking. “not sure yet. why, baby? getting impatient?”

“no,” she lies.

you turn to look at her at the next red light. “liar.”

juju swallows hard. “maybe a little.”

you reach over, letting your fingers skim up her thigh, nails dragging just enough to make her shiver. but then the light turns green and your hand retreats like it never happened. her hands grip her seat. she doesn’t say anything, but you feel her eyes burning into the side of your face like she’s trying to will your hand back.

you take the long way, winding through side streets and quiet neighborhoods, letting the dark wrap around you both like a secret. she starts bouncing her knee, every so often letting out a breath that sounds dangerously close to a whine.

then, soft: “pull over.”

you keep your eyes on the road. “what?”

“pull over,” she repeats, more certain this time.

you glance at her. “juju.”

“please.”

your grip tightens on the steering wheel. her voice—low, needy, that edge of frustration—it cuts right through you. but you shake your head once, firm. “not here.”

“why not?”

“because you deserve more than the backseat of my damn car.”

she looks at you, wild-eyed. “you think i care about that right now?”

you sigh, heavy with the effort it takes to keep yourself in check. “i care.”

she leans closer, voice soft but intense, every syllable like a hand on your throat. “you gonna make me wait, really? when i’m right here? when i need you this bad?”

your jaw clenches. you should keep driving. you should.

but her hand’s on your thigh now, sliding higher, and the look she gives you is pure fire—desperate and sure all at once. there’s nothing clumsy about it; she knows what she wants. she knows exactly how to ask for it.

“you’re gonna tell me no?” she whispers.

your silence answers her.

you pull off onto a quiet street near a dead-end, tucked behind some overgrown trees, the kind of place you used to park at in high school. you put the car in park and sit there for a moment, engine humming beneath you, both of you breathing like you just ran here.

“you sure?” you ask, giving her one last chance.

juju doesn’t respond with words. she’s already unbuckling her seatbelt, already climbing over the console like she belongs in your lap, like this was always where she was meant to be.

“guess that’s a yes,” you murmur, breath catching as she straddles you.

“shut up and kiss me,” she says, eyes locked on yours, fierce and trembling.

you do.

you kiss her like you’ve been holding back for weeks, like the ache in your chest has finally found a release. her hands tangle in your hair, her hips grind down against you, and you know—right here in this car, with the windows fogging up and the world reduced to the heat between you—this is everything.

the seats creak beneath you, her breath hitches against your mouth, and you let her ride that fine line between desperate and divine. it’s messy. it’s hot. it’s not what she deserves—but it’s what she needs. and right now, that’s enough.

because she’s not thinking about where you are. she’s thinking about you.

the way your voice sounded when you told her to be good.

the way your hands feel wrapped around her waist.

the way you still hesitate, even now, like she’s something to be cherished—like even when she’s begging, you’re still thinking about protecting her.

and god, that’s why she’s never wanted anyone else.

you just look at her, your breath mixing with hers in the close, quiet space between you. your hands rest on her hips, grounding her, steadying yourself. she’s already trembling a little from the wait, from the weight of what she’s been asking for without words. her lips are parted, her eyes flicking between yours and your mouth like she’s waiting for permission she doesn’t need to ask for.

and when you finally lean in, you kiss her like a promise.

soft at first—barely there. just a brush. a test. a tease. your lips ghost over hers once, then again, like you’re committing her shape to memory. she exhales shakily, and her fingers curl into your shoulders, anchoring herself to you.

her lips are warm, supple, already swollen from how badly she wants this. and you take your time tasting her, letting your mouth move over hers slowly, deliberately, savoring the shudder that runs through her when your tongue barely traces the seam of her lips.

she sighs into it, needy, and parts her mouth for you.

that’s all the invitation you need.

your hand comes up, cradling the back of her neck, tilting her head just right, and you deepen the kiss—tongue sliding against hers, not demanding but claiming. and god, she melts into you. her chest presses tight to yours, her breath catching as the kiss turns urgent, hungry. you kiss her like you’re trying to crawl inside her skin, like you’ve been starving and she’s the first taste of something real.

she moans against your mouth, soft and low, and her hips roll down instinctively, desperate for friction. you swallow that sound, pulling her closer, letting your teeth catch her bottom lip and tug just enough to make her gasp.

you don’t stop.

you kiss her like you’ve got something to prove—like she’s yours and the world needs to know it. and she kisses you back like she’s afraid you might disappear if she lets up for even a second.

it’s messy now—hot, breathless. your mouths slant over each other’s again and again, no space left between you. every sound she makes goes straight to your core. every flick of her tongue, every hitch in her breath, it’s all heat and need and years of wanting her this way.

you break apart only when you have to—just long enough to catch a breath—and even then, your lips barely leave hers. your foreheads press together, your thumbs brushing over her cheeks, and she’s panting, lips kiss-bruised and eyes wild.

“damn,” she whispers, voice wrecked.

you just smile, dragging your thumb across her mouth.

“told you,” you murmur. “i meant it.”

she’s straddling you, flushed and breathless, lips kiss-bruised, eyes glazed with need. the fogged-up windows make the car feel like a secret, sealed off from everything outside—but it’s not enough. not with the way her hips keep shifting, not with the way your hands are already gripping her thighs like you’re barely holding back.

you kiss her one last time—slower this time, almost gentle—before you pull back just enough to speak against her mouth.

“get in the backseat.”

she blinks, a little dazed. “…what?”

you nod toward the back, voice low and steady, but heavy with promise. “i need more room for what i’m about to do to you.”

and it’s not that she didn’t suggest this first—she did. but something about the way you say it, so calm, so sure, like you’ve already decided and there’s no room for discussion… it knocks the breath right out of her. her body goes still for half a second, like your words just rewired something in her.

her cheeks flush deeper, eyes wide. “you serious?”

you meet her gaze, dead serious. “baby, if you stay on my lap, i’m gonna tear you apart right here. backseat or nothing.”

that does it.

she swallows hard, then clambers off you awkwardly, almost tripping over the console in her haste. her hand fumbles for the door handle and she stumbles out into the night air, blinking like she forgot there was a world beyond the heat of your kiss. you follow her out, cool air rushing over your skin as you slam your door shut and open the back one.

juju’s already halfway in, climbing onto the seat and turning around like she can’t decide if she wants to watch you or fall back into the cushions and wait.

you crawl in after her, slow, deliberate, eyes never leaving hers.

“lay back,” you tell her, voice like velvet-wrapped steel.

she hesitates—not out of doubt, but anticipation. her lip catches between her teeth as she lowers herself, pulse racing visibly in her throat. she stretches out across the seat, legs parted just enough to let you slide between them, and her breath hitches when you settle over her.

“i thought you said i deserved more than the backseat,” she whispers, eyes fluttering.

you smirk, leaning down so your lips barely brush hers. “you do,” you murmur. “but right now? you deserve this.”

juju’s wearing a pair of gallery department sweatpants that you just want to rip off, but part of you wants this to be as romantic as possible.

your hands find her hips, slow and sure, grounding her right there against the cool leather of the seat. she’s trembling just slightly beneath you, but it’s not fear. it’s adrenaline. it’s the thrill of being wanted so openly, so completely. you can feel it in the way her chest rises and falls too fast, in the way her fingers curl around the edge of your hoodie like she needs something to hold onto before she flies apart.

“look at you,” you murmur, voice dark and sweet all at once. “still acting shy… but you’re the one who begged me to pull over.”

juju shifts under you, legs moving restlessly, like she wants to deny it but can’t. because it’s true. she wanted this—wants this—and it’s written all over her face. in her parted lips, her wide eyes, the flush spreading down her neck.

“i didn’t beg,” she mutters, almost too soft to hear.

you raise an eyebrow, smiling as your thumb brushes her jaw. “nah? so that wasn’t you saying please in my ear like you were about to cry?”

her eyes flutter shut for a second, a soft whimper slipping out before she can stop it. she turns her head like she’s hiding, and you won’t let her—not tonight. your hand gently turns her face back toward you, firm but tender.

“eyes on me, ju,” you whisper. “you asked for this. now take it.”

her gaze locks with yours, and there it is—that sharp pull of surrender. like she just let go of whatever pride she had left. like she trusts you more than she fears how badly she needs this.

you lean in and kiss her again—slower now, deeper. and this time there’s no teasing. it’s all tongue and heat, the kind of kiss that makes her back arch and her fingers claw at your shoulders. you trail your lips down to her jaw, then lower, mapping her neck with your mouth while your hands slide beneath her hoodie, finding bare skin that makes her shiver.

“so pretty like this,” you breathe against her collarbone. “so soft when you let go.”

juju lets out a shaky breath. “you’re making it real hard to be good.”

you chuckle against her skin. “good’s not what i’m looking for tonight.”

your hands move lower, slower, tugging at her waistband, and when she lifts her hips to help you, it’s wordless—obedient in the way that makes your breath catch. she’s usually all fire and bite, but right now? she’s yours in the quietest, sweetest way.

you don’t rush her. you don’t have to.

because the way she looks up at you, pupils blown, lips swollen, voice barely a whisper when she says, “please…”—that’s enough to undo you completely.

you press your forehead to hers for a beat, grounding both of you. your voice drops, thick with heat and something deeper.

“i got you,” you promise. “just lay back and feel me.”

the best you can do with your own body is situating yourself parallel to hers. juju’s laying with her back to the bottom of the seat, and you’re not. your elbow rests near her head as you peer down at her. juju’s eyes are nothing short of wide and willing.

your hands are under her hoodie before she can think twice, fingers skating along bare skin that draws a gasp out of her. she’s warm all over, heat rising in waves beneath your touch, and it’s not just the temperature in the car — it’s you. it’s the way you touch her like you’re building something, not just taking.

“i wanna feel all of you,” you murmur, dragging the hoodie up her stomach, slow enough to make her squirm.

juju arches up without a word, letting you peel the fabric away, revealing the sports bra beneath. her chest is rising fast, lips parted like she wants to say something — but doesn’t trust her voice not to crack.

you lean in and kiss down the center of her chest, warm and open-mouthed. your hands settle on her ribs, thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts, not fully touching—yet. just enough to let her feel the gravity of your patience.

“you always move this slow?” she teases, voice breathless, but you hear the tremble behind it. she’s restless now.

you grin against her skin. “only when i want it to last.”

and she whines — soft and barely audible, like she didn’t mean to let it slip. you kiss just under the edge of her bra, then look up at her.

“you want more?”

she nods quickly.

“nah,” you murmur, dragging your lips along her sternum, “use your words.”

her breath catches. her voice is almost shy now, like she’s embarrassed to admit it.

“i want you to touch me,” she says, eyes locked on yours.

you hum low in your throat and slide your hands up, slow and deliberate, thumbs brushing over her nipples through the fabric, making her gasp. her back arches, chasing your touch, and you reward her with your mouth — kissing just over her heart, teeth barely grazing.

you pull the bra up next, exposing her completely. she shivers, not from the cold, but from the way your eyes drag over her like she’s sacred. like you’ve never seen anything more perfect in your life.

“god, babygirl,” you whisper, reverent. “you’re unreal.”

she blushes, and it’s the kind of shy that lives right next to confidence — like she knows what she does to you, but still isn’t used to being worshipped like this.

you take your time. you kiss over her chest, tongue flicking over a nipple until she whimpers, thighs shifting beneath you. your hand slides down, resting just at her waistband again. she’s already trembling, already gone.

you trail kisses down her stomach, slow and molten, nipping lightly as you go, leaving her skin marked and warm. your hand sneaks beneath the band of her sweats now, and you feel her hips buck up in anticipation.

she’s soaked. and when your fingers glide over her through her underwear, she lets out the prettiest little sound—like relief and desperation all at once.

“you’ve been waiting for this?” you ask, voice low, fingers teasing but not pressing yet.

“yes,” she breathes, like it hurts to admit. “i’ve been losing my mind.”

“good,” you murmur, slipping your fingers past the hem, finally touching her where she needs you. she cries out softly, hips lifting into your hand. “i want you ruined for me.”

and from the way she moans, open and wrecked already—she is.

you pull away, dissatisfied. you want to see everything, not just feel.

your right hand tugs the underside of her right knee, pulling it to let the limb rest on top of your own legs. you only have the patience to the sweatpants down to juju’s thighs.

things are heated between you two, but you notice juju grimace at the feeling of cold air hitting her bare core.

you lean down again, kissing at juju’s sharper-than-sharp jawline, muttering sweet nothings. “i know, baby, i know.”

your palm rests on her inner thigh, rubbing over the soft skin. you can feel the goosebumps begin to form and hear juju’s breathing begin to pick up.

“i’ve been waiting to have you like this for a while, you know,” you whisper between kisses. “but you ran from me.”

juju shudders, “i don’t want to run anymore.”

you move back up to her lips, the ghosts of previous kisses lingering. “promise?”

she looks into your eyes, never a doubt behind her own. she’s never been more sure about anything before. “i promise to give you everything i have.”

when you connect your lips, it’s similar to the feeling of a wave washing over you. calm, renewing, restoring. everything you ever needed.

it’s soft—deliberate. slow like you’ve got all night, like nothing else exists outside the press of your lips to hers. it catches her off guard. she gasps against your mouth, surprised by the tenderness, the sudden change in pace.

it’s featherlight at first, almost reverent. the kind of kiss that makes her eyes flutter shut and her body relax into the seat, tension bleeding out of her shoulders. your thumb traces the curve of her jaw while your lips move slowly over hers, coaxing her to melt again, to forget what you’re really doing.

and she falls for it. just like you knew she would.

her breath evens out, her grip loosens on your hoodie. she sighs into you, lost in the kiss, too focused on the way your tongue brushes hers, the way you tilt your head just enough to deepen it, to make her chase the softness like she needs it.

but underneath that kiss, your hand is moving again.

lower.

slipping past the last bit of your inhibitions, slow and smooth, until you’re finally touching her skin to skin. her body jerks—just a little—but she doesn’t pull away. not with your lips on hers, keeping her grounded, distracted, dizzy.

she moans into your mouth when your fingers slide through the slickness, soft and sure, teasing her entrance without giving in. and she’s so caught up in the kiss she almost doesn’t realize how deep you’ve gone until her hips buck up, a choked gasp catching in her throat.

you pull back just enough to murmur against her lips, voice thick with heat and something darker.

“gotcha.”

her eyes fly open, wide and stunned—and you’re already smiling, hand moving slow and deep, now that you’ve got her exactly where you want her.

your middle and ring fingers gloss over’s juju’s throbbing clit, the sensation like cold steel against skin.

juju takes in a deep breath through her teeth, and you never pull away. always close, always maintaining eye contact.

you don’t have to say a lot, just because juju can read the look in your eyes. you’re telling her, you’re safe here. give in.

and she does.

you make small, contained circles over her bundle of nerves. the feeling of her warm skin against yours in such an intimate way is almost enough to send you over the edge.

“my perfect girl,” you mewl. juju’s slick covers your fingers, and you want nothing more than to take them into your mouth.

juju’s lips part, eyes flickering. no words escape, just whimpers of overwhelming pleasure. beads of sweat form at her hairline, nipples pebbled, and body shaming.

when she’s least expectant, you slip in just one finger.

her head lolls back into the seat, sweet pants flowing to your ears. your digit curves up to that spongy surface, applying just enough pressure.

you keep your thumb on her clit, giving her dual stimulation. the car’s getting increasingly warm and with the stealth of a ninja, you crack the window a bit.

“it’s all yours if you want it, baby,” you chime. “take it.”

juju’s back arched into you, and you don’t even fight it. when you feel like she’s ready, you flip in another finger. the sound of her pre-cum is the only think you can focus on. it’s so obscene and perfect.

shlick… shlick…

it fills the small space between you like a secret, rhythmic and raw.

juju’s trying so hard to keep it together—but every time your fingers curl just right, she lets out a shaky moan, the kind that sounds like she’s unraveling one layer at a time.

then your thumb brushes higher, circles once, and her whole body stutters—“fuck,” she gasps, breath catching, voice cracking like she didn’t mean to say it that loud.

you glance down, watching her fall apart in real time—chest rising fast, lips trembling, brows furrowed as another broken moan escapes her.

you murmur low, right against her cheek, “listen to how wet you are for me.”

and she lets out this helpless, strangled little sound—half whimper, half sob—and it might just be the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard.

she clenching around your fingers, and you know it’s go time. don’t slow down, but treat her exactly right.

“you’re close, baby,” you whisper, voice low and steady. “i feel it. don’t fight it.”

juju whimpers, her hands scrambling for anything to hold onto—your hoodie, the seat, your arm. finally she settles for your shoulder, nails digging in just enough to sting.

“i—it’s too much,” she breathes out, but she’s not pulling away. she’s rocking into your palm now, chasing the high she swore she wasn’t ready for.

you press your lips to the side of her neck, kissing her through the heat of it. “nah, you can take it. you want to take it. don’t hold back.”

she nods, desperate and wrecked.

“that’s it,” you murmur, curling your fingers just right, dragging your thumb across her clit in a slow, aching circle—once, twice—

and then she breaks.

her whole body tenses beneath you, a sharp cry tearing from her throat as she cums—hard, raw, beautiful. her legs shake, her stomach clenches, and she folds forward into you like her body can’t hold itself up anymore. like she needs you to keep her from falling apart completely.

you trap her lips in another kiss, swallowing her sweet nectar-like moans. your fingers continue to thrust as you help her ride out her climax, and another sharp moan escapes.

you’re so focused on taking care of her, that you barely catch the tail end of her declaration: “i love you.”

you don’t stop—not yet. your fingers slow but stay deep, helping her ride it out, kissing her temple while she moans through it, soft and breathless. her hands are fists in your hoodie now, her face buried in your neck, her whole body twitching as the waves roll through her, one after another.

“that’s my girl,” you whisper against her hair. “just like that. you did so good for me.”

she lets out a soft, trembling breath—half-laugh, half-sob—and clings to you tighter.

the car is quiet again, save for her breathing and the distant sound of the wind outside.

but in your arms, she’s still warm. still coming down. still yours.

you don’t rush her.

you just hold her, your fingers no longer moving, now resting gently against her thigh. her chest is still rising in short, shaky breaths, her face tucked into the crook of your neck like she’s trying to disappear into you.

her skin is flushed, damp with sweat, and her hands are still curled in your hoodie—but her grip loosens little by little, like she’s finally letting herself go soft in your arms.

you press a slow kiss to her temple. then another, just above her ear. your nose nudges her curls, and your hand slides up her back, soothing.

“you okay?” you ask quietly.

she nods, barely. doesn’t lift her head yet. just makes this tiny noise, somewhere between a hum and a sigh. she’s still too high off it to speak, but she’s here. she’s with you.

you cradle her closer, fingers brushing along her spine. her heartbeat is still quick beneath your palm.

“you always do that to me,” she whispers after a long moment. “like you know exactly how to ruin me.”

you smile gently. “never trying to ruin you, baby. just wanna love you right.”

and it’s quiet again. soft.

your lips graze her hairline and you whisper it without thinking—no build-up, no hesitation.

“i love you, ju.”

she exhales, deep and shaky, and leans harder into you.

“say it again,” she murmurs.

you tilt her chin up, just enough to meet her dazed eyes.

“i love you,” you say, firmer this time. “i love everything about you.”

that earns a small, tired smile from her—eyelids heavy, lips swollen, cheeks still flushed from the aftershocks.

“good,” she breathes, “’cause i love you too.”

and just like that, she collapses back into your arms, no more tension, no more walls—only warmth. only you.

the gym smells like fresh wax and sweat and too much ambition for seven a.m., but you and juju walk in like the place belongs to you.

she’s in front of you at first, bag slung low on one shoulder, hoodie sleeves pushed up, curls pulled into a messy bun that somehow still looks like it could be on a magazine cover. but then she slows, just a little, until your steps fall into sync.

she doesn’t say much—but she’s glowing. it’s subtle, the kind of light that lingers in her eyes when she looks at you out the corner of her eye. the quiet tug at her lips when your knuckles brush as you walk side by side. she’s still sore—you can tell by the way she walks a little differently today, shifting her weight, trying not to make it obvious.

you lean down, whisper with a crooked smile, “you good?”

juju huffs out a laugh and rolls her eyes, but her cheeks flush anyway. “you really asking me that like it wasn’t your fault?”

you just shrug, smug. “wasn’t complaining last night.”

“i hate you,” she mutters under her breath, but the way she bumps her shoulder into yours tells the truth.

“nah,” you murmur, tilting your head toward her with a grin, “you love me.”

she doesn’t argue that one.

when you hit the edge of the court, eyes turn. your teammates don’t say anything—but you can feel it. the shift. the curiosity. some of them already knew, or at least suspected, and the rest? they can see it now. how juju sticks close to you. how your hand hovers at the small of her back. how she laughs too easily when you’re around.

coach claps her hands and starts warm-ups, and you both fall in line—but not before juju leans close, voice low so only you can hear it.

“i’m not gonna be able to focus today.”

you glance at her sideways, teasing. “why’s that?”

she bites her lip, eyes dancing. “you still got me feeling like i’m in the backseat.”

you grin, stretching your arms over your head. “good. maybe next time you’ll think twice before tempting me in public.”

she just shakes her head and jogs ahead—but not before tossing a look over her shoulder. it’s playful. dangerous. yours.

and even surrounded by the rhythm of bouncing balls and squeaking sneakers and barking coaches, it still feels like your whole world is walking just ten steps ahead.

© juumecca, all rights reserved.

[hellokittyfeenie]

Real.

I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD

I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD I WANT JUJU SO BAD

[hellokittyfeenie]

her breathing… the stare…

[hellokittyfeenie]

high sex w juju watkins

♪ now playing 🫐 ﹕ high sex w. juju watkins ❊

pairing ! j. watkins x fem!reader

warnings nsfw smutty smut, reader's first time, weed, smoking, oral (r!recieving), sweet sensual sex

summary smoking with your best friend ends in your first timings

note ok hellor im bored @kamii-2 @sweetbcgs

the smell of burnt weed and sweat filled the room as yours and juju's lips connected what felt like the 100th time. you didn't understand how you got here. one minute you and Juju were sharing a blunt the next y'all were tops naked making out.

the messy makeout got heated and heated as Juju went down to kiss down your neck. she started leaving hickeys on your chest before you stopped her a bit unsure.

"mmph wait-"

"what? am i doing something wrong-"

"nono i just... haven't y'know"

your words alone made Juju realize what you meant by the way you were looking away from her. "It's ok do you want me to stop or-" "Nono its fine just be gentle please", you said looking at her with a reassuring look.

juju nodded and tugged down your pants along with your underwear. she then softly laid you back onto your pink sheets before going down.

"is this fine", she said looking up at you as she slowly slipped her fingers in making you moan out and nod. she took the hint and started off slow with her fingers, not wanting to overstimulate you yet.

"your doing so good mama", her words alone made you look down at her with a needing look after a little making her take the hint to speed up. before you could react she dug in and started eating you out.

"mmph- feels good Ju mhm", you moaned out and reached your hand down to entangle your hand in her hair. you felt the band in your stomach about to burst as your moane gor sloppier and louder by the minute.

"you close ma?? cum for me baby", she slurred out a bit pussy drunk. you let out one more moan before cumming in her mouh and on her fingers. she let you ride out your high before untangling herself from you.

"let's go take a shower ok then cuddle."

[hellokittyfeenie]

Gabi is sooo adorableeee

Title: Our little biscuit

Pairing: Juju Watkins x Wife!Reader

Fandom: Women’s College Basketball

Summary: Juju and you embrace each stage of pregnancy with love, care, courtside moments, and puppy training—awaiting baby Monica’s arrival.

A/N: inspired by @shikaizer and @yailtsv

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @unknowgirlypop , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani ,

If you told me a few years ago I’d be married to Juju Watkins, pregnant, and courtside at every one of her games with our Frenchie at my feet like he’s head of security—I would’ve laughed you out the room.

But now? That’s just Tuesday.

Month 1 – The Test and the Start of Forever

It was a random Wednesday. I’d been feeling weird for days—nausea, sleepy as hell, randomly crying over an oatmeal commercial. I finally took a test, expecting nothing.

Two pink lines.

Two.

I sat on the edge of the tub in complete silence, heart racing. Deuce, our spoiled little Frenchie, sat in front of me like a furry, judgmental therapist.

He tilted his head like he already knew. Like, “So… when were you gonna tell me I’m getting demoted?”

When Juju came home from practice, sweaty in her USC hoodie, her smile dropped the moment she saw my face.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” she asked, crossing the living room in two steps.

I held out the test with shaky fingers.

She stared at it. Then me. Then back at it.

Then she smiled. Slow. Bright. The kind that made my knees weak even now.

“Yo… yo. Are we having a baby right now?”

I nodded, lip trembling. “Yeah.”

She swept me into her arms, spinning me around while Deuce barked like he wanted in on the excitement. “Oh my God! Babe—we’re having a baby?! Like for real?!”

She put a hand on my stomach, eyes soft. “You’re already the best mom.”

“And you’re gonna be annoying as hell,” I teased, tears in my eyes.

“You love that about me,” she grinned.

Month 2 – The Name Before the Name

We hadn’t even hit the second trimester when Juju came in one night, holding a teddy bear and a tiny baby blanket she found at a boutique downtown.

“I already know what I’m calling her,” she said confidently.

I raised a brow. “Her?”

“She’s giving girl. I can feel it.”

“And what’s this name, oh wise one?”

She sat beside me and kissed my belly. “Biscuit.”

I blinked. “Biscuit.”

“Yup. Biscuits are warm, soft, and perfect. Just like our baby.”

I rolled my eyes. “You do know she’s not gonna let you call her that past age two, right?”

“She’ll deal.”

And so it began. Biscuit this. Biscuit that. “How’s Biscuit today?” “Did Biscuit enjoy that mac and cheese?” “Tell Biscuit I dropped 25 tonight just for her.”

Even Deuce started perking up when he heard it.

Month 3 – Game Time and VIP Treatment

“You got the best seat in the house,” Juju said, helping me into my courtside spot at Galen Center.

She wasn’t lying.

The seat had a whole orthopedic cushion on it. Custom-made armrests. A mini fan for hot flashes. Deuce had his own little mat underneath with his name embroidered on it like he was a VIP.

“I swear this dog lives better than most people,” I mumbled.

“He’s our first baby,” she smirked.

She kissed me before tip-off. “Don’t let Biscuit get too excited when I dunk on shorty tonight.”

“She’s kicking already. That’s your fault.”

I never missed a game. Not one. Juju made sure of that. No matter what.

And after every win, she ran over to kiss my belly like it was a trophy.

Month 5 – Deuce’s Big Promotion

The bump was getting real now. Juju had cleared out the guest room and was halfway through painting the nursery when she decided Deuce needed “formal training.”

She bought a realistic baby doll online. I thought it was a joke… until she started swaddling it.

“Deuce,” she said seriously, crouching down beside him. “This is Monica. Be gentle, okay?”

“You’re… you’re naming the doll already?” I asked, sipping my water.

She stood up and kissed my cheek. “I already know her name. Monica Jazlyn Watkins. Feels right, don’t it?”

It did.

Our little girl. Monica Jazlyn. Already loved beyond measure.

“Also, we’re not giving up ‘Biscuit.’ That’s forever.”

“I figured.”

Deuce sniffed the doll’s foot, looked unimpressed, then plopped down with a huff.

“He’s gonna need some adjusting,” I murmured.

“He’s got time,” Juju said. “We’ll all figure it out together.”

Month 6 – Baby First, Everything Else Second

People always said pregnancy is a lonely journey. But I never felt that once.

Juju made damn sure of it.

She cleared her whole schedule around every appointment, even when it meant skipping media interviews or rescheduling training sessions.

“She comes first,” she told her coach once on speakerphone. “My wife and my baby are the only priority.”

She rubbed my feet every night, no complaints. Brought home smoothies. Talked to my belly like it answered her back.

One night, I found her asleep on the floor of the nursery, paintbrush in hand, “Monica” sketched out in big letters across the wall.

I covered her with a blanket, kissed her forehead.

“You’re gonna be such a good mom,” I whispered.

Month 7 – Showered in Love

“You didn’t have to go all out,” I said, overwhelmed, standing in the middle of the baby shower she planned in secret.

It was on a rooftop. Decked out in soft pinks, warm neutrals, and gold accents. There was a onesie station. USC-themed cupcakes. A flower wall that said “Baby Biscuit” in cursive.

“I wanted to,” Juju smiled, coming up behind me and resting a hand on my bump. “You deserve this.”

She kissed my temple and stepped up to the mic.

“I’ve had trophies. Medals. Banners. But nothing compares to what we’re about to bring into this world. Monica Jazlyn… I love you more than every point I’ve ever scored. And to my wife? You’re my home. Always.”

Yeah… I cried. I wasn’t alone.

Month 8 – Bigger Belly, Bigger Love

Walking was hard. Sleeping was harder. I cried because I dropped a cookie once. Deuce followed me like I was his mission in life.

But Juju never made me feel like a burden.

She carried the groceries, picked out baby clothes, rubbed shea butter on my bump every night.

“Biscuit’s kicking,” I said one night.

Juju leaned down and whispered, “Go easy on your mama. She’s doing all the work.”

“She’s gonna be a baller, huh?” I smiled.

“Already got a better jump shot than me.”

Month 9 – The Wait and the Weight

“I feel like a planet,” I muttered, flopping onto the couch.

Juju, fully dressed for a press shoot, dropped her phone and came over. “You feel like the center of my universe. So technically… yeah.”

“You’re so corny.”

“You love it.”

Deuce rested his head on my thigh, paw protectively on my knee.

“She’s gonna be here soon,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” Juju said, brushing my hair back. “And when she is, everything changes.”

“But we’re ready, right?”

“We’ve been ready.”

Birth Day – The World Stops

Contractions hit like a truck. We were in the car within ten minutes, Juju driving like the road owed her money, one hand on my knee the whole time.

Hours blurred together. Screams. Squeezes. Nurses. Then—

Then came the cry.

The loudest, strongest little cry I’d ever heard.

And just like that… she was here.

Monica Jazlyn Watkins. 7 lbs, 3 oz. Head full of curls. Already pouting like her mama.

“She’s perfect,” Juju whispered, pressing her forehead to mine. “You did it, baby.”

“She’s real,” I breathed, tears soaking my cheeks. “Our little Biscuit.”

They laid her on my chest, and Juju broke. Silent tears. Shaking shoulders.

“I’ve never loved anything more,” she said.

After – Home, Whole, Happy

We brought Monica home wrapped in a blanket with “Baby Biscuit” stitched into the corner. Deuce sniffed her gently, gave her one soft lick, and laid down right beside her bassinet like he’d been waiting his whole life to protect her.

Nights were long. Feedings were constant. Sleep was rare.

But Juju?

She was everything.

“I got the bottle,” she’d say at 3 a.m.

“You sleep, I’ll hold her.”

“Biscuit wants her dance show? Say less.”

She sang off-key lullabies, danced around the nursery like a fool, and cried every time Monica smiled in her direction.

At her first USC game, Monica wore tiny headphones and a jersey that said “Mommy’s #1 Fan.” Juju dropped 28 that night and pointed to us in the stands with pride in her eyes.

After, she kissed us both and whispered, “I play for y’all now.”

—

Now – A Forever Kind of Love

Every day with her feels like magic.

Watching Juju rock Monica to sleep while Deuce lays guard beside the crib, I realize something:

This? This is the best team Juju’s ever been on.

And I’m just grateful to be her co-captain.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[hellokittyfeenie]

NEED THATTT

fic base on worst behaviour by kwn ft. kehlani | riding!reader.

not proofread. rushed. v short. | had to cut the lyrics.

"mmh, yeah, riding me so good 'ma" she bucked her hips up your grip on your silk sheets getting firmer and firmer each bounce you made.

"i pulled up unexpected, she's excited."

"well, you comin here out of nowhere." you remarked thru moans. "actin like you ain't like it." she talked back playfully, hint of confidence in her voice

"skin- tight dress, take your guess, im finna swipe it."

"you gon tell them?" she asked, you gritted your teeth shaking your head. "tell em now." she tilt her head handing you your phone.

"change your plans, call your girls and tell 'em"

You groaned, grinding your hips on her strap lips slightly apart "cant i fucking cum first?" she shook her head smirking.

"nah, want you to tell em now." you rolled your eyes dialing your friends number.

"you aint gonna make it, tonight."

Juju sat up and placed her hands on your hips doing the work, her lips trailing down on the side of your neck.

"bitch! where the hell are you!" your friends voice shot through your phone and you sharply inhaled. "n-not gonna make it tonight."

"know the club's meant to see you, but we got our own."

"bro! fuck! she said she not gonna make it!"

"what!?"

"bro we were expecting you!"

You hissed grinding your hips slower, passionate, other hand holding on the back of juju's neck.

"need you on your worst behaviour"

She slightly lifted her chin up to look over at you, she suddenly bit your collarbone elicting a gasp from you.

"girl if you dont get your ass here-" juju cut her off leaning in to talk. "shes not coming." bluntly. "bitch! you fuckin with your ex again!" the girl squeeled, your quick to drop the call.

"girl, i want you to."

"the fuck was that?" you sighed, she kissed you chin inhaling you. "want em to know, you'll never resist me."

"freak me like there ain't no one on this fucking earth."

🔖 — @addl0vee @mrsarnold @melpthatsme @bellaprintz25 @janaelalfysblunt @ellehoops @belsoulss @apbueckers @uwupaige @janaelalfysloml @paige05bby @azzisbueckers @paigeluvvr @giavonnii @jupitermoonbaby @shootingstarrrrr @dalilahissilly @luldejamleer @d7dream @gabbyygoo @bravemode @latenighttalkinqwp @avvwritesstufff @prettygirl-gabi @yailtsv @bebitts @heartsforari @usuallyshadowybasement @authentic-girl03 @private-but-not-a-secret @evanpeterstoe @destinybueckers44 @slaybaddietaytay @youmeandjennessey @starfulani @cherryswisherz

more works

[hellokittyfeenie]

@hellokittyfeenie just for you girlypop

[hellokittyfeenie]

This is sooooo cute

⏱️ more than i should — juju watkins

“is it really cheating if she ain’t loving me right, if she’s not touching me right, leaves me lonely every night?”

synopsis: you’re in a toxic, dull relationship and juju wants to show you what it’s like to be loved correctly.

warnings: toxic relationship, infidelity, a little steam.

notes: idk if this is worth saying but bc so many of my fics are based on songs— listen to the song lol

i could barely decide on how to end this so here

you’re not proud of it.

you haven’t been for a while.

the way your girlfriend talks to you now — cold, clipped, performative. like she’s playing the role of someone who used to love you, but forgot how to mean it.

and somehow, you’re the one apologizing for everything.

you say sorry for being quiet.

you say sorry for being tired.

you say sorry for thinking too much, for feeling too much, for not being enough.

you don’t even fight anymore.

you just… fold.

and in the silence of those hollow nights, when her back is turned and her breathing is sharp, you check your phone.

because juju always texts.

juju:

“you okay?”

you stare at it.

bite your lip.

type out a dozen replies. delete them all. but eventually, you send back:

“no.”

you meet her the next night.

you tell yourself it’s just to talk. just to breathe in a space that feels safe again.

but the second you see her — leaning against her car, hoodie up, lips chapped from the cold — you know you’re already gone.

she doesn’t say anything right away. just pulls you in. arms tight around your waist. her face in your neck.

you melt.

you always do.

“what happened?” she whispers.

and you hate how easy it is to unravel when she asks.

“same shit,” you murmur. “she picked another fight. told me i make her life harder.”

juju tenses. “that’s not true.”

you sigh. “maybe it is.”

“don’t do that,” she says. “don’t shrink just because someone doesn’t know how to love you.”

you close your eyes.

god, you want to kiss her.

you shouldn’t.

but you want to.

“we shouldn’t be here,” you whisper.

she leans in. slow. “but we are.”

her apartment smells like cedar and something sweet. probably you. the hoodie you left here a month ago is still on the back of her chair.

you sit on the edge of her bed. she hands you water. you take it with trembling hands.

she kneels in front of you, gently pulling off your shoes. and that’s when it breaks — the wall you’ve been holding up all week.

“i don’t think she even likes me anymore,” you say, voice cracking.

juju looks up. her brows pull together. “how long are you gonna let her break you before you finally leave?”

your eyes sting. “i don’t know how.”

she rises. slow. steady. stands between your knees and cups your jaw with both hands.

“let me show you how it’s supposed to feel,” she says.

and your heart stutters.

because you know what’s coming.

and you don’t stop it.

the second you lean in, the heat ignites.

it’s not innocent. it never was.

she kisses you like she’s starving. like she’s waited too long to taste something real. your hands find her hoodie, fisting the fabric, pulling her in until your chests are flush.

she walks you back toward the bed, lips never leaving yours, fingers bury into your curls like she’s trying to memorize you all at once.

“are you sure?” she whispers, forehead pressed to yours.

“no,” you breathe. “but i want it anyway.”

and that’s all it takes.

clothes hit the floor in a trail of recklessness.

her touch is different tonight. slower. heavier. like she’s pouring every unspoken word into her hands, into her mouth, into the way she moves against you.

you gasp her name.

she kisses your collarbone. you arch.

she lingers.

it’s not just sex.

it never has been.

it’s the ache of what you’ve been denying. the gravity pulling you toward her, even when your world tells you to run the other way.

and when you come undone — soft cries swallowed into her shoulder, fingers clutching her wrist — you feel whole for the first time in months.

you don’t think about your girlfriend. you don’t think about the fight waiting back home. you only think about her.

and how wrong it is to want her this much.

and how much worse it would be to let her go.

after, you’re curled into her chest. the room is warm, quiet except for your breathing.

she runs a thumb across your cheekbone.

“i’m not trying to break you up,” she says. “i just… hate seeing you hurt.”

you blink up at her. “you’re not breaking us up. we already were.”

“then let me be the one who puts you back together.”

you kiss her again.

not hungry. not rushed.

just real.

and for once, you don’t feel guilty.

you just feel… wanted.

© domifreak, all rights reserved.

[hellokittyfeenie]

S : you and your elder son decided to prank your wife juju, with him telling you to shut up to see her reaction.

W : non so far

you leaned against the counter, smirking as your son whispered. "mom i promise it will be funny." you slowly lifted the corner of your lips slowly nodding getting convinced.

you glanced over at juju who is mindlessly scrolling at her phone completely unaware. "okay fine" you whispered back trying not to laugh.

"but if she starts swinging, im not saving your ass, got it?" he rolled his eyes grinning. "mom, your worried of this?" he flexed his muscle and you laughed.

your son casually strolled into the living room and flopped onto the couch like he didnt have a death wish, he grabbed the remote, pretending to scroll through channels, then glanced your way in the kitchen with a smug little nod, showtime.

you made your way over to the couch, casually plopping down beside him "hey, dont forget to clean your room after this" you said, tone light, but knowing exactly what was coming, he rolled his eyes dramatically, already bracing for what was next "Fine, but only if you stop talking for five minutes," he muttered.

as you started ranting about his messy room, juju’s eyes shot over to him, a flash of warning in her gaze, but she stayed silent, watching, waiting for the storm to unfold, you kept going, raising your voice "seriously, how hard is it to clean up after yourself? it’s like your rooms a disaster zone—”

before you could finish, your son snapped, “shut up, mom!” the words rang out harshly, a perfect strike, and you could almost hear jujus breath catch as she went still, her focus zeroing in on him.

juju’s eyes darkened, her posture stiffening as she slowly stood up, the air around her shifting, she took a deliberate step toward him, her gaze never leaving his, each step was measured, the silence between you thickening with anticipation.

the ground felt like it was shifting beneath you as she closed the distance, her presence overwhelming, you could almost feel the chill in the air as she towered over him, her voice low and controlled “say that again" she murmured, her tone a warning that sent a shiver down your spine.

your sons face turned pale as juju loomed over him, her intense gaze never wavering “mom, tell her its a prank!” he shouted, panic creeping into his voice, but you couldn't help it, the tension was too much, you burst out laughing, clutching your stomach, tears nearly streaming down your face.

juju stood there for a moment, her brows furrowing in confusion as she looked from you to your son, trying to make sense of the situation, then, seeing the both of you struggling to hold back laughter, it clicked, you managed to choke out "It was just a prank, babe!"

your son nodded frantically, still wide-eyed and relieved "yeah, it was just a joke! i swear!"

for a brief second, juju’s expression stayed stone. without warning, she crossed her arms and let out a long, annoyed sigh "you two are ridiculous" she muttered, but the edge in her voice softened.

MORE WORKS .ᐟ

🔖 — @addl0vee @mrsarnold @melpthatsme @bellaprintz25 @janaelalfysblunt @ellehoops @belsoulss @apbueckers @uwupaige @janaelalfysloml @paige05bby @azzisbueckers @paigeluvvr @giavonnii @jupitermoonbaby @shootingstarrrrr @dalilahissilly @luldejamleer @d7dream @gabbyygoo @bravemode @latenighttalkinqwp @avvwritesstufff @prettygirl-gabi @yailtsv @bebitts @heartsforari @usuallyshadowybasement @authentic-girl03 @private-but-not-a-secret @evanpeterstoe @destinybueckers44 @slaybaddietaytay @youmeandjennessey @starfulani @cherryswisherz

[hellokittyfeenie]

the things I would let juju, rayah, paige, nika, azzi, kk, ice, dominique, emily, diana, jana, kiki, ayanna, jada, aubrey, kennedy, avery, kayleigh, aaliyah, maila do to me are so crazy

my legs have been spread open

[hellokittyfeenie]

🧪 poison — juju watkins 032625

“girl you’re poison, poison, poison, but the good kind.”

synopsis: for juju, you’re just too irresistible. you’ve always had a push and pull dynamic, but no matter how hard the both of you try, you can’t stay away from each other. you don’t know if you’ll ever commit to one another, but you just take what you can get.

content warning: at the most, this fic is suggestive. mutual pining, a little angst?

notes: miss watkins has my heart. some fluff would definitely make me feel better about the recent events. in light of that, get well soon ju ❤️‍🩹

the city is quiet this late.

you sit on the hood of your car, parked in an empty lot just outside of downtown, watching the skyline flicker against the dark. the air is thick with the lingering heat of the day, the pavement still warm beneath your feet.

your phone buzzes beside you. you already know who it is before you even look.

juju: you up?

you sigh, running a hand over your face. you shouldn’t answer. you know how this goes.

but you do.

you: where you at?

her response is immediate.

juju: on my way.

and just like that, you’re pulled back in.

you and juju have always had this… thing.

it started slow, back when you first met in high school, both of you playing on the same team—your skill on the court undeniable, her raw talent already turning heads. It wasn’t about competition between you two; there was always this effortless chemistry that didn’t have to be explained.

you’d exchange looks in practice, small smiles after games, like the connection was a little too real, a little too strong for anyone else to notice.

but things were never simple. you’ve always been drawn to each other in a way that made other people uncomfortable, like they could feel the tension, but you didn’t care. everyone said it was just a phase, that the fire would burn out, but it never did.

when the two of you were alone, that pull was undeniable, like everything else in the world faded into the background. but when it came to the public eye, that’s when the cracks started to show. both of you had too much pride, too much history of keeping things at arm’s length. things you never said out loud lingered in the air between you like smoke, thick and suffocating.

then came the argument. the fight that neither of you wanted to have, but both knew was inevitable. the mix of frustrations—on the court, off the court, in everything you’d built together. words were said, things were thrown around that neither of you could take back. tt was as if you both didn’t know how to exist in the same space without it exploding into something you couldn’t control.

and after that, you didn’t speak.

you hear her before you see her—the low hum of her car, the way her music filters through the night air as she pulls up beside you.

when she steps out, she looks the same as she always does—effortlessly put together, like she doesn’t even have to try. dark sweats, one chain catching in the glow of the streetlights, fresh braids pulled back just enough to show the sharp cut of her jaw.

she leans against the passenger side door, arms crossed, watching you.

“didn’t think you’d answer,” she admits.

you huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “neither did i.”

she tilts her head, studying you. “but you did.”

it’s not a question. it’s a fact.

you don’t respond. because what is there to say?

you always answer.

you don’t know how long you sit there, side by side, letting the night stretch between you.

juju exhales, dragging a hand down her face. “you gonna keep acting like this isn’t killing you too?”

you tense, staring ahead. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

she scoffs. “yeah, you do.”

she shifts, turning to face you fully, her knee brushing against yours. the contact is small but enough to send something sharp through your chest.

“tell me you don’t miss me,” she says, voice quieter now.

you swallow hard, gripping the edge of the car hood. “juju—”

“tell me.”

you can’t.

you don’t have to because she already knows and poison has never tasted so sweet

she moves before you can think better of it, hand cupping your jaw, tilting your face toward hers.

the first kiss is slow, almost hesitant—like she’s waiting for you to pull away. like she’s giving you the chance to stop this before it starts.

but you don’t stop.

you never do.

your fingers curl into the fabric of her hoodie, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss until it’s something dangerous, something that tastes like regret and relief all at once.

she exhales against your lips, forehead pressing against yours.

“you always do this,” you murmur. “pull me back in.”

her grip tightens on your waist. “then stop letting me.”

you both know that’s never been an option.

you almost want to fight it. you couldn’t keep doing this to yourself. one day you were all over each other and the next you were clawing to get back to where you once were.

the heat between you is unbearable now. her hands are everywhere—on your face, your waist, your back—and every touch is like a spark, setting off something inside of you that you’ve been trying to ignore.

she pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, and for a moment, neither of you says a word. the tension stretches taut between you, thick and suffocating.

you know what’s about to happen.

she knows it too.

but it’s like the thought of stopping doesn’t even cross your mind.

“fuck it,” she breathes, and that’s all the permission you need.

you crash back into her, hands tugging at the fabric of her hoodie, desperate to feel more of her. you’ve been starved for this—for her—for so long, and now that you’re here, there’s no going back.

her lips are everywhere, pulling you in, kissing you like she has nothing to lose.

you pull away for just a second, breathless, hands shaking. “juju, we can’t—”

“we already are,” she cuts you off, her voice husky. she pulls you against her, feeling the weight of her body, the heat radiating off her skin. “you know you don’t want me to stop.”

you press your lips to her neck, a soft gasp escaping you as you feel her fingers run along your spine, making you shiver.

“i don’t,” you whisper, and the admission feels like a confession, raw and real.

her eyes darken, and she pulls you in for another kiss, this one harder, deeper. her hands roam your body like they’ve been waiting to do this forever, and god, it feels like she has.

there’s no room for hesitation anymore. no space for second-guessing. just her and you and the moment where everything else fades away.

the silence that follows is comfortable.

you both lay there on the hood of the car for a while, bodies tangled together, chest rising and falling in sync as you try to catch your breath.

“this doesn’t change anything,” you say, voice rough, but the words feel like they’re both a promise and a lie.

juju’s fingers trace over your skin gently, as if savoring the moment. “i know,” she replies, but there’s something in her voice that makes you wonder if she’s lying too.

you tilt your head to meet her gaze, searching her eyes for any trace of doubt. but there’s none.

“you know i’m not letting you go,” she says quietly.

you chuckle softly, a little breathless. “you never did.”

she leans down and kisses you again—slow, almost tender, as if she’s grounding herself in the feeling of you against her.

“maybe not,” she agrees, lips brushing against yours.

when she finally pulls away, she gives you a soft smile, the kind that feels like both a promise and a goodbye. a goodbye to the past and a promise to be present in your future.

“so, what now?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“now,” she says, voice steady but her hand still gripping yours, “we figure it out.”

you look at her, unsure of where this is going, but somehow, you’re not afraid.

because no matter what happens, you know one thing for sure: you’ll never be able to let her go.

© domifreak, all rights reserved.

[hellokittyfeenie]

🛁 the sweetest thing— juju watkins 032735

“ooh baby, just to hear you speak…”

synopsis: you work with juju as an athletic trainer and through your time on the job you’ve learned that she tends to push herself and you want to let her know you care.

content warning: fluff, blossoming relationship, stubborn juju.

notes: i adore tooth rotting fluff

it had been a long day on the court—one of those days where every drill felt more exhausting than the last, and yet, every player pushed through, determined to get better.

juju, as always, was at the center of it all, pushing herself harder than anyone else. you watched from the sidelines, your heart swelling with pride. but you weren’t just a spectator—you were the one who would be there when the game was over, when the aches and pains of a tough practice crept in, and when her body needed to recover.

as the final whistle blew, signaling the end of practice, you stood up, stretching your legs after sitting on the sidelines for what felt like hours. juju jogged toward you, a towel draped around her neck, her face flushed from the effort, but her smile was still bright. she always had that energy, that spark, no matter how much she pushed herself.

“hey,” she greeted you, her voice warm, a hint of exhaustion there, but it didn’t mask the excitement that still radiated off her.

“hey, you good?” you asked, keeping your eyes on her for any signs of injury. it was second nature for you, always checking for any tweak or strain, your mind shifting from the relationship you shared to the professional role you played in her life. it was the balance you had learned to strike.

“yeah, just tired,” she said, grinning as she wiped her brow with the towel. “but you know me, i never get tired of pushing myself.”

you smiled, but there was a flicker of concern in your eyes. “you sure? i saw you limping a little after that last drill. come on, let’s take a look at your ankle.”

juju rolled her eyes playfully but nodded. she was used to you looking out for her, even when she didn’t ask for it. and honestly, she liked it that way. it was the kind of care she didn’t always know she needed, but you were always there—protecting her, making sure she was at her best.

“alright, alright, you win,” she said, walking over to where your medical kit was set up by the sidelines. “you’re lucky you’re cute, or i’d be ignoring you right now.”

you chuckled, shaking your head as you knelt down in front of her, gently lifting her foot. “lucky i’m cute, huh? i guess i’ll take that as a compliment.”

“you should,” she replied with a grin, though there was a subtle wince when she shifted her weight. “but seriously, i’m fine. i’ve been pushing hard lately, that’s all.”

you raised an eyebrow, inspecting her ankle as you massaged it gently. “you’ve been pushing hard, but you’re also human. if you keep going at this pace, you’ll burn out, ju.”

her eyes softened as she looked down at you, her gaze turning serious for a moment. “i know you’re just trying to look out for me. i can’t help it, though. i want to be the best. i don’t want to let anyone down.”

you finished assessing her ankle, relieved to find no signs of injury beyond mild soreness. “you don’t have to prove anything to anyone, ju. you’re already amazing. and if you keep pushing through injuries, it’s not just your body you’re letting down—it’s yourself. you deserve to take care of you too.”

she looked at you for a long moment, and for the first time that day, the playful energy in her eyes seemed to settle, replaced by a quiet, reflective look. “sometimes, it’s hard to stop. you know? when you get in the zone, everything else just fades away. but when you’re right there with me, helping me through it—i don’t know, it just feels different. like maybe i’m not so alone in it all.”

you smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection. “you’re never alone, ju. not with me around.”

her lips curved into a small smile as she sat down on the bench, pulling her foot away from your hands, clearly relieved that it wasn’t anything more serious. “i know. that’s why i always appreciate you, even when i act like i don’t want your help.”

“you don’t have to thank me,” you said, your voice soft and sincere as you packed up your kit. “that’s what i’m here for.”

“i’m lucky to have you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but the meaning behind it was clear. she wasn’t just talking about you as her athletic trainer—she was talking about you as someone who had become so much more.

the moment lingered between you both, the quiet understanding that had developed over months of working together, of sharing not just the highs and lows of practice but the bond that had grown stronger with each passing day. you had always been there, on the court, behind the scenes, always supporting her—not just as her trainer, but as someone who cared deeply, someone who made her feel safe and understood.

“how about you let me take care of you tonight?” you suggested with a smile, standing up and offering your hand to help her off the bench. “how about we grab dinner, relax a little?”

“i like the sound of that,” she said, her grin returning, but there was a tenderness in her expression that made your heart race. “you’ve been taking care of me all day, so yeah, let’s do that.”

as the two of you left the gym, walking side by side, the weight of your role as her trainer began to fade into the background. it was still there, always a part of who you were, but tonight, it felt like the balance had shifted. for once, it was just you and her—no drills, no assessments, no injuries to tend to. just the quiet connection between two people who had found something deeper than a professional relationship.

the city streets felt a little quieter now, the last of the evening rush settling into a calm that mirrored the shift in the air between you and juju. the tension that had been there earlier in the day seemed to slip away. there was something about being close to her, even in the quiet moments, that made everything feel right. the noise of the world outside faded into the background, and it was just the two of you, navigating this delicate balance between professional and personal.

“so, where are we going?” juju asked, her voice light but with a softness that made your heart flutter. she had that way about her—of making everything feel easy, even when life wasn’t. she looked over at you, her eyes warm as she brushed the wispy pieces of her bun up, seemingly fixing it.

you thought for a moment before answering. you wanted it to be something special, something that would allow both of you to unwind after the intensity of the day. “there’s a little diner a few blocks down. it’s quiet, low-key. i figured it’d be a good place to relax.”

“sounds perfect,” she said with a smile, and you felt that familiar warmth spread through you, knowing you were on the same wavelength, even in the small things.

the walk to the diner was comfortable, the cool night air crisp against your skin. juju had always been a warm presence beside you, but tonight, her energy felt different—more grounded, as if the day’s chaos had faded, and there was just the two of you, together. the sounds of the city—cars passing, distant chatter from other pedestrians—seemed far away, like an orchestra playing in the background while you two danced in your own little bubble.

as you entered the diner, the door’s bell jingled softly, and the warmth from inside immediately wrapped around you.

you gave a warm smile to the woman behind the counter— you knew her well as you were a regular.

the place was quiet, with only a few other patrons scattered throughout the booths. the faded red booths and checkered floor reminded you of something nostalgic, like a time before everything got complicated. you slid into a booth, watching as juju sat across from you, still looking a little out of breath from the walk but more relaxed now, her muscles slowly unwinding.

“this is nice,” she said, her gaze sweeping over the diner’s cozy ambiance, settling back into the booth. her posture softened, as if the weight of the day was finally lifting off her shoulders.

“yeah, i thought it’d be a good spot,” you said with a smile, feeling the ease between you two. “somewhere we can just… breathe.”

“exactly.” she leaned forward a little, her eyes locking onto yours. “thanks for tonight. for taking care of me, i mean. i know i can be a pain, always pushing myself like that.”

you shook your head, not missing the way her lips curved into that soft, genuine smile. “you’re never a pain, ju. i’m just doing my job. and i’d do it a thousand times over if it means making sure you’re okay.”

“you always say that,” she said, the smile on her face widening. “but you’re more than just my trainer, you know that?”

the words settled between you two, lingering in the space like a delicate truth. you met her gaze, the warmth in her eyes pulling something out of you, something you’d been holding onto for so long. “i know,” you said quietly, your voice softer now, tinged with sincerity. “i’m not just your trainer, ju. i care about you. i care about more than just making sure you don’t get injured.”

there was a long pause, the air charged with the unspoken things between you, the things that had been building ever since you first met, ever since you started working with her. she studied your face, her eyes searching for something—maybe reassurance, maybe a sense of mutual understanding. and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter, more vulnerable.

“i care about you too,” she admitted, her voice like a secret shared between the two of you. “i’ve always cared about you.”

your heart raced in your chest, and for a moment, you weren’t sure what to say. the words felt both heavy and light at the same time, like they carried the weight of everything you had been feeling but had never quite said out loud.

“i don’t know what to say to that,” you confessed, a small, nervous laugh escaping your lips. “it’s been hard, with us, hasn’t it? we’ve had to navigate so many lines. between professional and personal.”

juju leaned back in her seat, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as if searching for the right words. “yeah, it’s been complicated,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “but i don’t think that’s a bad thing. sometimes the complicated stuff is what makes the good stuff feel worth it, you know?”

you nodded slowly, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of your water glass. “yeah, i know. i’ve just been scared of messing things up. of making it too complicated to go back.”

she smiled softly, reaching across the table to place her hand over yours, the warmth of her touch grounding you in a way that made everything else feel less significant. “i think we’re already past that point,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but it was clear—clearer than anything else—that she meant it. “i think we’re already in it, together.”

the words felt like a balm to your soul, soothing something you hadn’t even realized was aching. you met her gaze, your thumb gently brushing against the back of her hand as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “yeah,” you whispered, “together.”

you both sat there for a few moments, the quiet between you now full of understanding, of a connection that had always been there but was now more obvious, more real than it had ever been before. the waiter returned with the menu, breaking the moment just as it began, but neither of you seemed to mind. it was the kind of peace that settled in the heart and didn’t need to be forced or rushed.

after ordering dinner, you leaned back in your booth, your eyes drifting out of the window for a moment, watching the world go by. everything felt more simple now, more settled. but there was still so much left to explore—so much left to say. juju’s fingers were still wrapped around yours, and she squeezed your hand gently, a soft reminder that you were here, in this moment, together.

“so,” juju began, breaking the silence, her voice teasing but soft. “since we’re being real… when do i get to take care of you?”

the question caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little, surprised by how natural her words felt. “take care of me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, trying to keep the humor light. “what does that even mean?”

she smiled slyly, leaning forward just enough that the space between you closed. “well, you’ve been taking care of me all night,” she said, her voice low and playful, “so it’s only fair that i get to return the favor, right?”

you stared at her for a moment, trying to gauge the meaning behind her words. but there was something about the way she was looking at you—something so raw and real—that made it impossible to ignore the growing feeling in your chest.

“maybe,” you said softly, your voice barely audible, “maybe it’s your turn to let me take care of you first.”

her eyes softened, and she leaned back in her seat again, her expression shifting to one of quiet reflection. “i guess that’s fair,” she whispered. “maybe we’ll take care of each other, in our own ways.”

the rest of the night passed in a blur of easy conversation, the kind that was effortless between two people who were finally being honest with each other. you laughed, shared stories, and, for the first time in what felt like a long time, didn’t feel the weight of everything that had been left unsaid. as the night wore on and the diner began to empty, you both shared a moment of quiet understanding, the kind of understanding that came not from words but from the comfort of just being there, together.

after paying the bill and stepping out into the cool night air, juju turned to you, her hand slipping into yours with a natural ease. “can we just… take our time tonight?” she asked softly, her voice a little uncertain but full of hope. “can we just… be?”

you smiled, squeezing her hand gently as the night wrapped around you both, the city’s lights casting a soft glow on the pavement beneath your feet. “yeah,” you whispered. “we can just be.”

and with that, the rest of the night felt like it belonged to the two of you—no labels, no pressures, just the quiet comfort of knowing you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

© domifreak, all rights reserved.

[hellokittyfeenie]

Gabi this is honestly PERFECTION 💗💗💗💗

Title: Lucky Me

Pairing: JuJu Watkins x Reader

Fandom: USC Women’s Basketball

Raring: General Audience

Summary: juju’s very lucky… very lucky

🏷️: @isansstuff , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr

The gym is still buzzing with energy from our win, the air thick with the scent of sweat and victory. USC fans are roaring outside, waiting for us to step into the tunnel, but before we get there, JuJu has me right where she always does—under her intense gaze.

We’re supposed to be answering questions at the post-game conference, but instead, she’s staring at me like I hung the stars in the sky.

Rayah, sitting between us, catches on quickly. “Yo, JuJu, you gonna answer that question or just keep drooling?”

JuJu doesn’t even flinch. She just reaches over, cups my face—right in front of cameras and reporters—and tilts my chin up slightly. “How are you this beautiful?” she murmurs, loud enough for the mic to pick it up.

A mix of laughs and “Awws” ripple through the press room, and I feel my face heat up. “Judea Skies Watkins, behave,” I whisper, smacking her hand away gently.

Rayah groans, rubbing her temples. “Y’all are so embarrassing.”

One of the reporters chuckles before asking, “JuJu, what’s it like playing alongside your girlfriend? You two seem to have a natural chemistry both on and off the court.”

JuJu leans back in her chair, grinning. “Man, where do I even start?” She turns to me again, and I already know she’s about to go off. “It’s the best thing ever. Not only do I get to hoop with one of the most talented players I’ve ever met, but I also get to share my life with her. Y’all see her out there—she’s a problem on the court, but off the court? She’s the sweetest, most caring, most beautiful person I’ve ever known.”

I shake my head, hiding my smile behind my hand, but she’s not done.

“I don’t think people understand how lucky I am,” she continues, her voice softer now, almost like she’s forgotten we’re in a press conference. “I’ve been blessed to have her since high school, and every day I wake up grateful. She makes everything better.”

Rayah exhales dramatically. “Bro…”

The room erupts in more laughs, but JuJu just shrugs like it’s nothing. Like she wasn’t just out here confessing her undying love in front of cameras and reporters.

When we finally escape, heading back to JuJu’s apartment, she’s still on the same type of time.

I’m sitting on her couch, scrolling through my phone, when she suddenly grabs my hand, tracing her fingers over my knuckles.

I glance up at her, already knowing what’s coming. “JuJu.”

She just hums, turning my hand over to press a soft kiss to my palm. “How are your hands so perfect?”

I groan, trying to pull away, but she grips my fingers tighter. “I mean it. Like, look at these fingers. They braided my hair last week, made me breakfast this morning, hit a clutch three in the fourth quarter—how are they real?”

“Judea…”

She grins, leaning in and pressing her forehead against mine. “Say it again.”

I huff, but I can’t help smiling. “Judea Skies Watkins.”

She shivers dramatically, eyes fluttering closed. “You got me weak, ma.”

Before I can respond, Deuce—her spoiled little Frenchie—jumps onto the couch, yipping excitedly.

JuJu immediately switches to baby talk. “Aww, Deucie! Did you miss your mommy? You wanna give mommy kisses?” She starts smothering his face with kisses, making him wiggle happily. “Who’s the bestest baby ever? You are! You are!”

I give her a look. “You’re ridiculous.”

She doesn’t even argue. She just grins and cuddles Deuce closer. “You love it.”

Later that night, I go live while doing Kiki’s hair. She’s sitting on the floor in front of me, and I’m parting her curls, waiting on Viv and Domi to show up with more braiding hair and gel. JuJu is still being JuJu, laying across the couch, eyes glued to me like I’m a masterpiece.

“She’s staring at you again,” Kiki says, amused.

I sigh dramatically, not even looking up from the section I’m working on. “I know.”

JuJu doesn’t even deny it. “And what about it?”

I shake my head, still focused on parting Kiki’s hair. “You’re in timeout.”

That gets a reaction. “Timeout? Baby, no—”

“You heard me. Timeout.”

JuJu gasps, clutching her chest like I just broke her heart. “Y’all hear this? She’s putting me in timeout just for loving her.”

The comments flood in instantly.

@USChoopfan: NOT TIMEOUT LMFAO

@JuJu’sWifey (not actually JuJu’s gf but we move): FREE JUJU

@RayRay’sluvrr: She deserves it, respectfully.

Viv and Domi finally show up, walking in with the supplies. The second they see JuJu pouting on the couch, they burst out laughing.

“What she do now?” Domi asks, sitting on the armrest.

“Existed,” Kiki mutters, making everyone laugh.

“She won’t stop staring at me,” I explain, finishing up a section.

Viv nudges JuJu. “Yeah, you gotta chill. Let the girl breathe.”

JuJu crosses her arms. “I can’t help it! Have you seen her?”

Domi groans. “Here we go.”

Viv smirks at me. “You really put her in timeout?”

I nod, smirking. “Had to.”

JuJu pouts even harder. “Y’all don’t love me fr.”

The comments keep rolling in, people eating up our antics.

@USChoopfan: NAH JUJU IS TOO FUNNY

@Kiki’swifey: Keep her in timeout for another 10 mins

@JuJuWatkinsFan23: She’s just a lover girl fr

Kiki snickers. “You gon’ let her out eventually?”

I sigh, pretending to think about it. “Maybe…”

JuJu groans dramatically. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Everyone cracks up, and even I have to fight back a smile. “Alright, alright. You’re free.”

JuJu perks up immediately, scooting closer like she’s been starved for affection. “So I can love on you again?”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t stop her when she leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek.

She grins against my skin. “Lucky me.”

I shake my head, laughing softly. “Yeah, yeah. Lucky you.”

And honestly? Lucky me too.

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️