#Drama: Precise Shot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jazziejax · 1 month ago

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𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧’ 𝐕

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Modern AU | Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC & Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore | Modern AU

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Juicy thought she could play it cool, but between Smoke’s games and Stack’s hands, she’s caught in a heat she wasn’t ready for. Good things there’s a pool party to keep things chill….right?

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Mild sexual tension, lots of kissing, suggestive dialogue, jealousy, light cursing, let me know if I missed anything!

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - my wifi is bugging….

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 13, 867+

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˖°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑

The sun had begun its slow descent behind the rooftops of the neighborhood, painting the sidewalk in streaks of orange. The old wood of the Hall family porch creaked gently beneath their weight, and the heavy scent of weed hung in the air, thick and warm like the summer itself.

Mary lounged in the wicker chair, her curls pulled up high with a pencil sticking out the back. Smoke, ever the picture of calm, sat on the porch swing in a man spread, puffing on w joint with one tucked behind his ear. Stack, sat on the porch floorboards, legs laid out as he rolled the blunt between his fingers with the same precision he used on car engines. Juicy rocked gently on the porch swing, wearing a cropped Baby Phat tee and cotton shorts that hugged her hips just right, her glossed lips pursed as she blew smoke toward the sky from the blunt Smoke passed her.

They didn’t say much—just passed the blunt, breathed in the heat and let the wind do what little it could.

“Hey.” Mary spoke suddenly, flicking ash from the joint onto the rim of the pot by her foot. “Y’all heard about that pool party over at the rec center tomorrow? I think Tyrell and ‘nem throwin’ it. Word is they got a DJ this time.”

Juicy let out a soft hum and pulled her legs under her on the swing, already imagining the scene. Shirtless men with water guns, music blasting, somebody bringing their cousin who couldn’t dress, and the ice cream man pulling up just in time to cause drama.

“I ain’t heard about that.” Smoke replied, voice smooth and distant, like he already knew where this was headed.

“Well, we’re going.” Mary declared, gesturing between her and Juicy. “I told Megan we’d slide through for a bit.”

Stack gave a little grunt from his place on the floorboards. “Damn. Guess we’re goin’ then.”

Juicy perked up at that, turning toward the boys with a grin. “Y’all coming with us?”

Reluctant nods came from both twins—mild annoyance coated in curiosity. Juicy smirked, satisfied. “Well shoot.” She said, pushing herself up from the swing with a small bounce. “Now I gotta get myself together before tomorrow.”

Smoke arched a brow, glancing over his shoulder at her. “What you mean ‘get together’?”

“Gotta get my nails done, toes, hair—maybe pick out a new suit.”

Stack lifted his head just a bit, blinking up at her through lashes thick as trouble. “Didn’t you just get your nails done last Friday?”

Juicy tilted her head, one hand on her hip. “Yeah, but I need something new. You know I like my designs. Everybody’s already seen these.”

Stack didn’t even smile. He just exhaled a stream of smoke and said. “Only you payin’ attention to that.”

“Oh, and apparently you too, stalker.” She shot back, a little giggle slipping out before she could catch it.

Stack turned his head fully toward her now, blowing smoke through his nose with that same calm, hungry gaze. “You wish I stalked you.”

Her breath caught for just a second, her lip curling up in surprise. “You’d like that.”

“I would.” Stack said smoothly. “You’d like that.”

Juicy’s eyes widened, a soft gasp leaving her lips. “What? Nuh uh.” She muttered, half-turned away, trying to play it off. “Well… I’d probably be flattered. But I wouldn’t enjoy it.”

That’s when Mary stood up and stretched, letting out a little groan. “Let’s go, Ju. You know if we don’t get there soon, we ain’t gon’ get a spot.”

Juicy followed, snatching her bag off the porch railing. The girls headed toward Missy’s car, Mary jangling the keys as they walked down the steps.

“Where y’all goin’?” Smoke asked suddenly, his voice sharper than usual. It wasn’t the question—it was the way he asked it. Watchful. Protective.

Juicy turned around with a pointed look, her lips shiny and slightly smirking. “Uh! You’re stalking too. Is that y’all’s thing now? Stalking me?”

“Yeah.” Stack said without hesitation, that devilish look in his eye. Smoke stayed quiet, but his eyes stayed on her, low and unreadable.

“Where?” He asked again, tone clipped now.

Juicy rolled her eyes a little at his shift. “I told you! I gotta get my nails did. Now you’re making me late to a walk-in appointment I haven’t set yet.”

Her arms folded across her chest, the attitude sliding into her tone before she even noticed. She glanced between them. Smoke’s stoic stare, Stack’s crooked smirk, and added quickly, “And no, we don’t need a ride. We got Missy’s car. Are we done here?”

There was then a pause, brief, but heavy. Smoke didn’t say anything. His gaze didn’t soften. That familiar warmth he usually reserved for her had gone cool, and she felt it in her chest more than she expected.

Stack, though… Stack had the nerve to look entertained. He liked her sharp tongue. He liked how her voice pitched up when she got annoyed. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips when he said, “Yeah. We’re done.”

Juicy didn’t even know what to do with the flutter in her stomach, but she gave a little nod and turned away, making her way down the steps with Mary.

Once they slid into the car and Mary started the ignition, she cut her eyes at Juicy.

“They keep a tight leash on you.” She said, adjusting the rearview.

Juicy scoffed, twisting her mouth and buckling her seatbelt. “I guess they try to do that since Martin can’t, but no. I keep a tight leash on them. They don’t run me.”

Mary just laughed and pulled out of the driveway. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, girl.”

As they drove away, Juicy dared one last glance back at the porch. Smoke was still sitting, still watching, his eyes unreadable under the glow of the setting sun. Stack was now leaned against the banister, mouthing something to his brother—but she didn’t need to hear it to know.

They might not run her.

But they were running through her mind all the same.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The nail shop had the unmistakable scent of acrylic and coconut oil, the low hum of fans swirling semi-cool air through the room as the girls settled into their usual pedicure chairs. A wall-mounted TV played 106 & Park on low volume, the sounds of a summer hit barely audible over the buzz of foot files, laughter, and idle chitchat. Juicy and Mary were regulars at Tipz & ToeZ, a pink-and-white storefront tucked between a beauty supply and an old fried fish joint.

They knew their techs by name—Tina and Mimi—who already had their tubs filled with warm water by the time they walked in. Flip-flops slid off, pants rolled up, and legs dipped into swirling bubbles. As Juicy sank back into her seat with a satisfied sigh, Mimi leaned over and plucked at her ankle.

“You let too much time go,” Mimi teased in her usual sing-song tone. “Nail polish chipping.”

“Girl, you act like I walk barefoot in the streets,” Juicy joked, giggling. “That’s just my summer hustle feet.”

The girls chuckled, falling into their usual rhythm of gossip, neighborhood news, and hushed complaints about Mimi’s cousin who borrowed her car last week and came back with it smelling like weed and disappointment.

After a lull in the conversation, nothing but the click of tools and splash of water filling the space between them, Mary tilted her head slightly and peeked at Juicy from the corner of her eye. Her voice came soft, hesitant, but laced with intent.

“Do you like…the twins?”

Juicy’s brows furrowed. “Of course I like the twins,” she said, her voice light with a laugh as if the question was ridiculous.

Mary didn’t budge. “No, I mean like, romantically.”

The smile then dimmed from Juicy’s lips, and her breath caught in her throat. Her heart skipped the way it always did when Smoke looked at her just a second too long, or when Stack said something slick that she pretended not to hear. Her mind stuttered through a thousand versions of what if, but she tried not to let it show.

“Oh.” She said finally. Her voice was softer now. Smaller.

She turned to Mary and met her eyes, the air thick with something unspoken. “No.”

“No?” Mary echoed, her brow lifted.

“Yeah, no.” Juicy replied quickly, brushing the idea aside as if saying it fast enough would make it true. “I mean, they’re attractive. Anybody can see that. But I don’t think…nah.” She tried to sound convincing, even if she was talking more to herself than Mary.

Mary wasn’t buying it. “I mean, I think they might have it for you.”

“For me?” Juicy blinked, startled.

“Yeah. Especially Smoke. I know Stack’s always flirting, but that boy flirts with every girl, hell, and probably with his reflection in the mirror. Smoke though? He don’t look at nobody the way he look at you. It’s like you the only girl in the world to him.”

Juicy’s stomach flipped, warmth blooming in her chest despite herself. But a part of her wilted too—the part that heard Stack’s name tossed out like he was just playing a part. Like he didn’t mean some of the looks, or those slick little comments that lingered longer than they should’ve.

“I don’t know.” Juicy murmured, letting out a shaky breath and laughing it off like she wasn’t falling into a spiral.

Mary rolled her eyes. “Hey, there’s no shame in trying. I get it. You’re scared it’ll mess things up for your friendship. But if a fine-ass man like that looked my way, girl, I’d dive headfirst. Even if it’s just to fuck.”

“Mary!” Juicy hissed, looking wide-eyed toward the techs working on their toes.

“What? I’m serious,” Mary whispered, grinning.

“Oh, I know you are.”

Mary waved a hand like she was swatting a fly. “Anyway, I only asked because Monica told me Anika’s been sniffing around. Says she’s on the hunt since her and Donavan broke up. Again. Says it’s for good this time but we all know that’s a lie.”

Juicy rolled her eyes. “That girl’s always on the hunt. She’d prowl her way into a church function if she smelled cologne.”

“And Yalonda said she don’t even care which twin she gets. Just wants one.”Mary added, her lip curling in disgust. “Like, what kind of thirsty behavior is that? Not even caring which person you want, you just care that they’re sexy so you’ll take either. This isn’t a damn store.”

Juicy hummed in agreement but didn’t say much. Her chest felt tight, the thought of other girls sizing up the twins—her twins—leaving her strangely defensive.

“I mean, if I had to pick…” Mary trailed off, her voice laced with mischief.

Juicy turned to her sharply, caught off guard. “Pick?”

“Yeah. I think I would choose Stack. Stack’s more rugged, bold. I like that. Smoke’s too chill for me. He’d probably make me second-guess myself every five minutes.” Mary laughed, then grinned. “But if I was greedy—which I am—I’d swoop up both and leave these bitches mad as fuck.”

Juicy blinked. Her heart pounded again, louder now, her cheeks warm.

“Who would you choose?” Mary asked innocently, turning to face her with that knowing look.

“I—uh—I don’t know,” Juicy muttered, glancing down at her feet. Tina was painting her toes a soft, pastel yellow, but she couldn’t focus on that. “That’s a hard question.”

“Girl, just answer.” Mary groaned. “It’s just us. I ain’t about to go runnin’ to them with your secrets.”

Juicy took a long breath, let it out slowly. She thought about Stack’s grin when she got annoyed. About Smoke’s eyes watching her like they saw things she didn’t even show. She thought about how her heart never picked a side. And then she said it, quietly, like it didn’t mean everything.

“Both.”

Mary’s eyes widened, a big smile breaking out on her face as she leaned in. “Both?”

Juicy didn’t answer.

Mary gasped dramatically. “Juicy!”

“What? You told me to answer.” Juicy shrugged, still avoiding her gaze, but her lips twitched into a small, guilty smile.

“I know, I just didn’t know you were such a freak like that.” Mary grinned. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m not a freak.” Juicy said with a small smirk as she leaned back in the seat before turning to look at Mary. “Just why have one when you can have both?”

Marin’s grin widened as she looked at her best friend next to her, the sweet and innocent Juicy almost unrecognizable as she looked at her. And she couldn’t stop her grin from widening, almost in pride.

“Exactly.”

As Tina began the second coat on her toes and the shop filled with the chatter of another customer walking in, Juicy leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling fan above them. Her heart was still racing, but her smile—subtle and soft—lingered. Summer was just getting started.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The sun was just beginning to dip below the skyline as tires rolled to a gentle stop at the curb. The cicadas still singing under the thick and sticky veil of southern summer heat that was finally softening into something a bit more bearable as Mary’s car pulled up to Juicy’s driveway. The street was dim, the soft yellow of porch lights glimmering against humid air. Mary turned to Juicy with a knowing smile, her glossed lips shining faintly under the dome light of the car. The AC had been blasting the entire ride, a faint trace of the nail salon’s lavender lotion still lingering in the air. They were both loose-limbed from their pedicures and still giggling over Mary’s bold claims and Juicy’s reluctant confession.

“Alright, babe,” Mary said, slipping the car into park and turning in her seat with a knowing grin. “Don’t act brand new next time I bring up the twins.”

Juicy rolled her eyes with a laugh, already gathering her little purse and salon flip-flops. “Whatever.”

“You know I love you, girl,” Mary said, leaning in. They exchanged their signature goodbye—cheek kisses, one on each side, exaggerated and dramatic. “Mwah. Mwah.”

“I’ll call you later.” Juicy said, pulling the door shut behind her.

“You better.”

Juicy stepped out into the warm evening air, her eyes lazily drifting across the street. Only one car was parked in the twins’ driveway and her chest gave the smallest deflated sigh at the sight of the familiar cutlass absent. Either they were both out, or—more likely—Smoke was gone. Not that she was disappointed. Not really. She turned her attention to her front door, keys already in hand.

Inside, her house welcomed her with the cool hush of an AC unit humming low and the faint scent of lemon cleaner. She slipped off her white flip-flops with the little rhinestones and flexed her freshly done toes on the cool tile. Her body relaxed, ready for a shower and some water—only for her ears to perk up at the unmistakable sound of the TV murmuring in the living room. She blinked, her brows furrowing as she padded softly across the hardwood floor.

When she turned the corner, she froze.

There on her couch, sprawled comfortably like he paid rent, was Stack, the glow of The Wayans Bros lighting up his face in flickers of sitcom chaos. Remote in one hand, legs stretched, and a bag of chips resting casually on the armrest. The volume was low and he turned his head lazily just as she stepped in, both of them locking eyes beneath the dim yellow hue of the side lamp. The air shifted immediately.

“Hey.” He said, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Hey.” She replied, blinking in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching your TV.” He barely even looked sheepish, starting it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And Juicy just let out a breath of a laugh, shaking her head as she walked further into the room. “I can see that.” She said saintly. She didn’t ask for more than that. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. It was easier to just… accept the warmth that settled in her belly at the sight of him there. Comfortable and at ease like he belonged there normally. It was nice to see.

Stack leaned forward a bit, his eyes skimming over her. “Let me see the nails.”

Juicy arched a brow but held her hands out, fingers spread. “They’re just French tips with a little bling. Nothin’ wild.”

“Yeah.” He said, taking her hand, turning it slightly to catch the light. “But they’re not your usual.”

She tilted her head. “You know what my usual is?” She asked with a small smirk, and Smoke copied her grin as he raised his eyes up to meet hers. “I pay attention.”

Her smile twitched wider at that. He let her hand go, but his gaze didn’t move far.

“Let me see the toes.” He added casually, though there was something in his voice that sent a flicker up her spine.

Juicy laughed again, but leaned back against the couch, swinging her legs into his lap with a teasing look in her eyes. She wiggled her toes, freshly polished with the same glossy French tip, tiny gems them as well.

“Be still.” He murmured with a grin, wrapping his hands around her ankles and lifting one foot to examine it like it was art. His fingers were warm against her skin, rough in all the right ways, and it sent a low, subtle shiver up her legs as he handled her feet like it was the most natural position for them. “You like?” She asked, her voice dipping low, almost instinctive. Soft. Sweet. Sultry.

Stack’s eyes lifted to hers, his smile slower this time, eyes gleaming. “Oh, I love.”

Juicy’s breath hitched just a little, and it surprised her. She tried to mask it with a smile, but there was something about the way he was looking at her now. Like she wasn’t just he and Smoke’s childhood friend or the neighbor or the girl he teased sometimes for fun. There was a weight to his gaze.

His fingers moved in slow, absent circles over her arch, rubbing without thinking, like it was second nature. She shifted slightly, trying to keep her breath steady, but the tension in the room was undeniable now. The TV might as well have been turned off.

The room went quiet, the TV nothing more than background noise now. The air thickened, their energy humming beneath the surface like static before a storm.

“Is… Smoke mad at me?” Juicy asked suddenly, voice quiet.

Stack looked up, his brow lifting just slightly, which emptied her to continue. “He seemed a bit irritated at the way I was acting earlier.” She added, eyes dropping to her lap. “I guess I was being a little…much.”

“Yeah, you were a brat.” Stack said plainly. Juicy frowned at his words, her lips pushing into a pout. “I know.” She sighed. “And I don’t know why.”

“Because you’re spoiled.”

Her mouth dropped open in mock offense. “I am not spoiled!”

Stack chuckled. “Yes you are, Juicy.”

She moved to protest again, but he lifted a finger, silencing her with a teasing smirk. “You’re the youngest girl in your family. You did everything mommy and daddy dearest wanted, no matter how wild they acted back then. To them, you were the good one. The golden one. Compared to your drug-dealin’ brother and your teen-mom sister, you look like a damn angel.”

Juicy wrinkled her nose but wasn’t sure if she could even fully deny it.

“I blame me and Smoke.” Stack continued, rubbing slow along her heel with one bad while the other toyed with her anklet. “We used to do whatever you said. No matter how crazy it was. Then it rubbed off on everybody else. Mary, Missy… hell, even strangers do what you say.”

“Well.” She said sassily. “You could’ve said no.”

He looked up at her and smiled. “And see that pout? Oh baby, you know I couldn’t.”

He lifted her foot and placed a kiss on it—quick, but lingering enough to make her toes curl. Juicy giggled and half-kicked him, not hard, more playful than anything.

Silence fell again, warm and full.

“But no, he’s not mad at you.”Stack finally said. “At least, not for long. You know how he gets when people don’t listen.”

“Yeah, I know how you both get.”Juicy said with a small roll of her eyes. “You just be glad I like that attitude you give me.” Stack said, gaze sharpening just slightly. “Or else we’d have some issues. Issues I’d have to fix, real quick.”His tongue swept across his bottom lip slowly, and Juicy’s breath caught in her throat. She shifted, thighs clenching slightly, something that Stack caught and made him grin.

“You got real soft feet.” He murmured, eyes dropping again.

“I know.” She said, trying to play it cool despite the butterflies blooming in her chest.

“You get ’em done for someone?”

Her eyes searched his face, trying to figure out if it was a joke or something more. “You.” She said after a beat. Stack eyes made their way back to his, his brow lifted slightly. Juicy simply smirked, letting the words hang in the air. “And every other fine man who might be watchin’.” She added.

Stack laughed then, that low and deep sound that made her knees feel weak even though she was sitting down.

“Well.” He said, setting her feet gently back in his lap, “You definitely got my attention.”

Their eyes locked again, and this time, neither of them looked away.

The TV flickered in the background, forgotten. The ceiling fan hummed low overhead. But all Juicy could feel was the heat between them, thick as the summer night outside, and just as electric.

Stack’s fingers lingered just above her ankle now, the circles slower, heavier. Like he was remembering the feeling of her soft skin under his. Juicy swallowed hard, the thrum in her chest matching the quiet hum of the ceiling fan, blowing out warm air that didn’t help cool her flushed skin.

Stack hadn’t said anything since his last comment, but his eyes were still on her. And his gaze was so heavy and intense that she felt a heart eat start at the lower part of her body. He didn’t stare at her in that way boys used to look at her when she walked by in low-rise jeans. He did it in that way that made her feel seen. He was peeling her open with a glance, figuring out where to press, where to touch, how to unravel her.

Juicy sat up a little, her legs shifting so her calves rested across his lap instead of just her feet. A bold move, maybe. But it was hot. And his hands were warm. And that look in his eye made her forget how to second-guess herself.

“You good?” Stack asked, his voice low, like velvet soaked in heat.

Juicy nodded, slow. “Mhm.”

He raised a brow, but the corners of his lips tugged into a knowing grin. “Alright then.” His hands moved again, this time sliding from her ankle to her shin. His thumb brushed the curve of her calf, just slow enough to make her squirm. She looked away for a second, then back at him, only to catch his eyes already there—watching her reactions. He was closer to her legs now, and he watched as she took a sniff, and the way his eyes closed briefly had her wanting to clench her thoughts together.

“You smell sweet.” He stated as his large hands rubbed against her legs, squeezing her thick calf every now and then. “This the lotion they put on you at the salon?”1 He asked, voice playful, but the rasp in it gave him away.

Juicy licked her lips. “No, it’s the one I carry with me. Gotta stay soft.” She shrugged.

That earned a chuckle, low and deep, and his fingers didn’t stop moving. Now they were tracing the line behind her knee, then higher. She felt her breath hitch, but she didn’t stop him. Her body was humming. Like her skin was remembering the nights she used to dream of this exact thing and pretend she didn’t.

“You tryna drive me crazy?” He murmured, his fingertips brushing along her thigh now—just below the hem of her little shorts. It was light. Barely there. But it lit a fire under her skin.

“I thought I already did.” She replied, voice dipping, almost shy but not really. Stack smiled. That slow, lazy smile that said he liked where this was headed. His hands slid further north, one staying on her thigh, the other moving to her waist, like he was trying to anchor her and set her on fire at the same time.

“Juicy…”

She looked at him, breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her lips. “Yeah?” She asked breathlessly.

“You ever think about us?” He asked, thumb stroking just under the band of her shorts.

Her heart thumped. “Like what?”

His gaze was heavy now. Weighted with meaning. With memories of all the late nights they’d danced around each other, shared jokes a little too flirty, lingered in the same room just a little too long. “Like this.” He said simply. “Like… me and you. No frontin’ or nothin’ like that. Just us.” He said, and the way he was speaking, that soft voice like he was begging, had Juicy’s heart beating hard within her chest.

Juicy’s throat felt tight, but she nodded. “Yeah… I think about it.” She said, her eyes wide and twinkling as she stared into his eyes. “Me too.” His hand drifted further, palm cupping the outside of her thigh now, fingertips brushing the curve of her hip. “All the time.”

His touch turned more confident, the tease of it replaced with intention. He leaned in slightly, close enough for Juicy to smell the faded cologne on his neck—something warm and woodsy that clung to him even through the heat.

Her hand found his chest, soft at first, then gripping the front of his white tank like she needed something to hold on to. Stack leaned forward, his mouth brushing her shoulder before his lips pressed there, then higher—up her neck, slow and deliberate.

“You want me to stop?” He whispered, his voice sending a shiver straight down her spine.

She shook her head, breathless. “No…”

That was all he needed.

His hands moved with more purpose now, dragging her closer until she was nearly straddling his lap. One arm hooked around her waist, the other dipped lower, beneath the hem of her shorts. She felt his hand explore the curve of her thigh, the hush between them thick as the moment stretched.

Then… he slid further, his fingers brushing against her clothed heat. Then he pressed against her, his large fingered rubbed her through her panties.

Juicy gasped—quiet, startled, but far from unwilling. Stack’s eyes never left hers, watching every flicker across her face, gauging her every breath and reaction as his fingers moved in slow, deliberate rhythm. His mouth brushed hers, feather-soft, like he was asking for permission even as his hand spoke for him.

She gripped his tank tighter, her eyes fluttering shut as she subconsciously, slowly rocked her hips against his hand.

And in the sweltering quiet of that summer night, Stack got to work—steady, focused, and with the kind of confidence that told Juicy he’d been waiting a long time to do this right.

The air felt heavier now—thick with something unspoken but deeply understood. Juicy’s breath hitched, and for a moment, all she could hear was the slow hum of the fan and the soft rustle of Stack’s hands as they moved against her skin.

He kissed her again. This time just beneath her jaw, then down to her collarbone, letting his lips linger. Like he was memorizing her. His hand, still tucked beneath the waistband of her shorts, moved with a deliberate rhythm that had her thighs tensing and her hips subtly shifting, almost involuntarily. A slow, languid ache built low in her belly, and her fingers slid across his cornrows, gently tugging at the long end as if to ground herself in something.

“Stack…” She breathed, barely able to get the name out.

He looked up, eyes hooded and warm, his smile crooked like he knew exactly what he was doing. “You good?” He asked, the rough edge in his voice betraying how much he wanted to keep going.

She nodded—maybe a little too fast—but she couldn’t help it. Her voice was soft when she answered, breathless. “Don’t stop.”

That smile deepened, and he kissed her again, this time on the mouth—slow and full, with tongue, like he wanted to make her forget any man who ever kissed her before.

Stack’s hand was slow and sure, trailing up the outside of Juicy’s thigh with the kind of care that made her nerves hum. The couch beneath her felt too soft, too warm, like it was melting beneath them, and her heartbeat thudded in her ears louder than whatever was still playing on the TV. His fingers moved with ease, confident and patient, making her body respond before her brain could catch up.

Juicy let her head fall back as Stack nipped at her neck, her breath coming out in shallow little sighs, eyes fluttering shut. Every inch of her felt like it was waiting on him—like her whole body was leaning into the moment, breathless and trembling.

Then—

Click.

The sharp sound of a key turning in the front door lock cut through the air like a lightning bolt. Juicy’s eyes snapped open just as Stack’s hand stilled beneath the soft cotton of her shorts. For a beat, neither of them moved, suspended in disbelief.

The door creaked open, and Juicy practically leapt up, pulling her shorts down as if they’d betrayed her.

Stack sat back with a groan that was barely audible, raking a hand over his face as Juicy scrambled to look like she hadn’t just been caught on the edge of sin.

Into the doorway stepped Sinclair, her arms full with a sleeping Tyson slumped against her shoulder, his little curls damp with sweat. She didn’t step fully into the living room, but her gaze drifted—just for a second—over to Juicy, who stood awkwardly next to the couch with her curls a little too messy and her tank top slightly askew.

Sinclair didn’t say anything, but one brow arched ever so slightly.

“Hey.” Juicy said quickly, voice too high. “Y’all back already?”

“Mm-hmm.” Sinclair hummed, tired but alert. “Tyson crashed on the way. Figured I’d just carry him up.”

Stack stood up then, brushing his hands on his jeans, and Juicy caught the faintest smirk playing at his lips, like he found the whole interruption funny. “I’mma head out.”He said casually, his voice warm but cool. Not too rushed, but not slow either.

“Yeah… okay.” Juicy said, following him toward the door, trying to smooth out her curls as they went.

Sinclair disappeared down the hall without a word, but Juicy could feel the suspicion lingering in the air. She knew she probably wasn’t going to get questioned later but whatever just happened would linger between them until it was bright up again.

The porch light buzzed faintly as she stepped into the doorway while Stack stepped outside. The warm night wrapped around them like a slow, sticky blanket. Crickets chirped somewhere in the distance, and the faint scent of grilled meat still hung in the air from someone’s barbecue earlier.

Stack turned to her, hands slipping into his pockets, his tall frame backlit by the porch light. “You alright?” He asked, a teasing glint in his eye.

Juicy rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. “I was, until somebody got me caught.”

“You wasn’t caught.” He murmured, stepping just a little closer. “She ain’t see nothin’. ’Sides… you the one that got all flustered.”

“I was not flustered.” She argued, eyes narrowing.

“You are flustered.” He leaned in even closer now, his voice low and lazy like syrup on a hot day. “Still got that little red blush right here…” He tapped her cheek lightly, and Juicy swatted his hand, but not really. They both laughed softly, the kind of quiet, private laugh that was meant to only be shared between two people in close quarters.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed lightly over her chest, watching him. “I’m grown.” She said, her usual sassy attitude coming back as she smoothed what we gloss she had left on her lips.

Stack’s gaze flicked down to her lips—quick but not shy. And then back up to her eyes. “Trust and believe I know that.” He said, his eyes training over her again. Juicy bit at the inside of her lip at that, looking up at him. “I should go.” He said, but made no move to leave.

“Mm-hmm.”Juicy hummed, still watching him with those big, round eyes. “You should.”

And yet… neither of them moved. The space between them tightened like a rubber band stretched too far. Then, without warning, Stack leaned in.

His lips found hers—warm, full, and hungry.

Juicy didn’t think. She just melted into him, her arms coming up to rest against his chest as his hand slid around her waist. The kiss deepened fast, hot and breath-stealing, like all the tension from earlier had been waiting for permission.

Then his hand, so bold and certain, slipped lower, gripping her behind in one smooth motion.

Juicy gasped into his mouth, the sound soft and shocked, but she didn’t pull away. Her hands curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding on like he might float away if she didn’t.

Stack broke the kiss then, just barely, his forehead resting against hers, both of them breathing heavy.

He looked down into her face, those dark eyes searching hers. She looked wrecked in the prettiest way—lips parted, cheeks flushed, her curls wild, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

He kissed her again, quick and tender, right on her slightly open mouth. Then his hand slid slowly from her behind, the warmth of his touch still tingling against her skin.

“Have a good night, Juicy.”He said softly, his voice lower than before. Something about it sent a shiver down her spine. She swallowed and whispered, “Goodnight, Stack.” She said, but she wasn’t even sure the words made it past her lips.

She watched him walk down the steps, his tall frame cutting through the quiet of the street until he crossed over to the porch across from hers. He didn’t look back, not before she went quickly slipped inside and shut the door, pressing her back against it. Her hand went to her chest as she tried to catch her breath.

She stared up at the ceiling for a second, completely dazed. Then, finally, the words slipped out in a breathless, disbelieving whisper.

“What the fuck did I just do?”

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The morning sun had just begun to stream through the gauzy curtains of Juicy’s bedroom, casting a warmth across her floor. The summer air was already thick with heat, promising a sweltering day ahead. She stood near her dresser in nothing but a black tank top and her favorite pair of boy shorts, the soft cotton clinging to her curves in all the right places. Her hair was up in a bun with a silk scarf wrapped around the base, though a few strands were curling down the side of her face as she rubbed sunscreen onto her arms. The scent of coconut filled the room, mingling with the faint trace of her vanilla perfume.

She paused mid-rub, her eyes drifting toward the door as she remembered something.

Sinclair.

She needed to tell her sister about the pool party. Dropping the sunscreen onto the vanity, she wiped her hands on a towel and padded barefoot down the hall. Tyson’s door was slightly ajar, but she walked right past it, heading straight for the largest room in the house. Sinclair sat cross-legged on her bed, meticulously going through Tyson’s diaper bag, organizing bottles and wipes like she was preparing for war.

“Hey.” Juicy called softly, catching her attention.

Sinclair looked up from a pack of baby wipes. “Hey, what’s up?”

Juicy stepped further into the room, her bare legs brushing against the side of the bed as she smiled down at the toddler who sat surrounded by soft toys, babbling to himself. “Mary and I are gonna hit the pool party at the rec center in a few. Martin might be there, so I thought maybe you and Ty could slide through. Make it a family affair.”She said, reaching down to scoop up the baby.

Tyson squealed with delight, giggling as Juicy peppered his chubby cheeks with ticklish kisses. The baby’s laugh was contagious, filling the room like sunlight.

Sinclair’s smile was tentative. “Uh… yeah, I can see if we can do that.” She said, but something in her tone held hesitation. “It’s just that—”

Knock knock knock.

A knock at the door cut her off.

Sinclair raised an eyebrow. “I’ll get it.” She said quickly, gently placing Tyson back on the bed before heading down the hallway.

She didn’t ask who it was, didn’t pause, didn’t peek cautiously through the side curtain like she normally would. It was almost like she knew who was there form the knock alone, even the presence.

As she pressed her eye to the peephole, her breath caught. There he was. Those familiar full lips she knew better than her own name, framed by the smooth lines of a face she could spot even in a dream.

She opened the door, slow and unsure.

Smoke stood on the other side, tall and still and undeniably handsome, his expression unreadable but his eyes glued to her.

“Hey,” He said, voice low, intimate.

“Hi.” Juicy’s throat tightened, her breath catching. It was the first time they’d seen each other since her impulsive outburst yesterday. She’d sent two texts last night, trying not to sound too desperate, but they’d gone unanswered and call her an over thinker but know she didn’t know where they stood.

“Can I come in?” Smoke asked gently, watching her closely.

Juicy blinked, shaking off the trance. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure. Come on in.” She said, stepping aside.

He moved past her into the house, his presence immediately grounding, immediately consuming. She shut the door behind him and took his hand without thinking, leading him down the hallway to her bedroom. The house was still and quiet, Tyson’s babbling just a murmur in the distance.

Once inside, she closed the door behind them. Like he’d been here a thousand times, Smoke crossed the room and sat on her bed, picking up one of her pink decorative pillows and resting it against his knees. His eyes scanned her slowly. Her bun, her bare arms still glistening with sunscreen, the tank top that hugged her chest just tight enough for him to see the curve of her nipples underneath, and the boy shorts that left little to the imagination.

She stood with her hands on her hips, heart thudding against her ribs. “You mad at me?” She asked, lips pouted.

Smoke shook his head. “No.”

“Well…”She dragged the word out, tilting her head.

“…Were you mad at me?”

“I was never mad at you, baby.” He said, that low rasp in his voice drawing her in like a magnet.

That last word—baby—settled right in her chest and melted whatever walls she’d tried to put up. She exhaled softly, stepping forward until she stood between his knees. Her arms wrapped around his torso, pulling herself closer to him. “You didn’t answer my messages.” She murmured, her voice small and vulnerable. “I thought you were mad after what I did yesterday.”

Smoke’s arms slid around her waist, grounding her. His hands rested gently on her lower back, fingers drawing soft circles there.

“I wasn’t ignoring you.” He said. “After you dipped out to get your nails did, I had to handle some business. Came back late and crashed. I was tired.”

Juicy lifted her head just enough to look him in the eye, glancing down at her hang as she toyed this his gold chain. “So you weren’t mad at me? Not even a little?”

“Baby, no.” He repeated gently, then his fingers dipped beneath the hem of her shorts, teasing the bare skin of her hip. “But you better never talk back to me like that again.” He added in a low, commanding voice. “Or else you’re due for a punishment. Am I understood?”

A sharp thrill ran down her spine at the firm warning.

“Yes.” Juicy answered breathily, her thighs instinctively pressing together.

“Mmm, good.” Smoke said before leaning in to kiss her, slow and possessive, his hands traveling downward to rest on the curve of her ass. His words and touch made her heart skip. She felt a slick warmth pool between her legs at the way he claimed her without even needing to undress her.

“I been thinkin’ bout you.” He muttered, lips brushing hers. That thick sexual tension, so thick it could choke, melted into something else—still hot, still heavy—but now softer. Sweeter and longing.

She kissed the corner of his mouth with a feather-light touch. “I missed you.” She confessed, voice tight with emotion. Smoke tightened his hold with another soft him, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. “I missed you too.”

They stayed like that, tangled in each other’s limbs, in a moment so intimate it felt like time slowed. The outside world ceased to matter. All that existed was this boy she’d grown to crave and the way his body molded perfectly to hers.

Juicy’s chest tightened, her heart blooming into something dangerous. Something real, and that she wasn’t sure she ready to name, but couldn’t deny.

“I was worried.” She whispered, afraid to say it out loud. She practically spoke the words into his mouth since didn’t want to pull away, but he didn’t seem to mind as his around her tightened.

Smoke tilted her chin gently, thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “You don’t have to be. I’m here.”And for a second, she believed him. Fully and completely. Her hands slid beneath his shirt, touching the warm skin of his stomach. Her voice was soft. “You better come to that pool party later.” She said.

Smoke smirked, that lopsided grin she both hated and loved curling on his lips. “I might pull up. Depends on how good you look in that swimsuit.”

“Oh, I’m gon’ look good.” She grinned, tilting her head. “So you better be there.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Then I’ll be there.”

And just like that, the tension returned, but this time, it wasn’t uncertainty or doubt. It was anticipation. It was summer heat, sticky and sweet, and the thrill of knowing something good was coming.

Before they could Steele back into the heat of their moment, Sinclair knocked twice before easing the door open, her hand resting lightly on the knob as her eyes scanned the room. The first thing she noticed was Smoke, sitting casually on the edge of Juicy’s bed like he’d always belonged there, while Juicy was bent slightly at her dresser, sifting through clothes. Her back was to the door, unaware of her sister’s entrance at first.

Sinclair paused mid-step, almost doing a double take when her gaze landed on the man lounging comfortably in her baby sister’s bedroom. “I didn’t hear you come in.” She said slowly, eyes narrowing just a bit, like she couldn’t decide whether she was suspicious or surprised. Juicy, halfway through tugging open a drawer, turned and blinked. Her brows pulled together at the same time Smoke’s did, the pair of them mirroring each other like they were already synced without trying.

“He knocked a few minutes ago.”Juicy replied plainly, but her voice held the faintest trace of dry amusement. She stood up straighter, one hand still resting on the dresser as she looked back at Sinclair.

Sinclair’s eyes darted between them, then shifted toward the floor as her toddler son, Tyson, who came bumbling in with soft patters of his feet and the sweet sound of baby banter falling off his tongue. He wore a lopsided grin, his little hands reaching for whatever was nearby—his mother’s jeans, the air, the bed frame—giddy from just being seen.

“Oh, yeah.” Sinclair muttered, rubbing the side of her forehead as the memory finally clicked into place.

“Damn. I think the mom brain is starting to get to you.”Juicy said with an arched a brow, lips twitching with a small smile.

“Yeah, me too.”Sinclair let out a low sigh and adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “Anyway.” She started, a hesitant note sneaking into her tone. “We might pull up to the pool later, but first I’m taking Ty to see Mom and Dad.”

Juicy’s expression shifted, just barely. She was careful, giving her sister nothing but a sharp nod, her mouth set, and a blink. “Oh.” She said with a quick uptick of her chin. “Okay.”

But there was a new stillness in the room. One that Smoke picked up on instantly, his eyes flicking from Juicy to Sinclair. Something unspoken had entered the air. Sinclair’s eyes stayed on her sister for a moment longer, trying to gauge the exact temperature of her reaction. Then she spoke again, casually.

“They haven’t seen him in a while. And neither have I, so…” She trailed off with a slight shrug, feigning nonchalance, but even Tyson seemed to slow in his babbling, sensing the shift in his mama’s voice.

Juicy hummed, soft and brief, not looking directly at Sinclair as she turned back to her drawer. “Okay.” She repeated, her tone light but not warm. Her hand paused over a folded orange swimsuit, fingers tapping the fabric once before picking it up. Smoke didn’t say a word. He sat still, observing, but his jaw flexed slightly, like he could feel the tightness forming under her skin.

Sinclair gave a weak smile, the corners of her mouth barely lifting. She nodded once, lips pursed. “Alright.” She said, stepping back toward the doorway. “See y’all later.”

Juicy finally looked up again, flashing a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “See ya.” She waved.

Then her gaze dropped to the little boy now holding onto the seam of his mother pants and grinning up at her with his two tiny bottom teeth showing. Her whole face softened.

“See ya, Ty!” She grinned, leaning down a little to wiggle her fingers in his direction.

“Say, ‘See ya, TT,’” Sinclair cooed in that syrupy baby voice as she leaned down beside him. But Tyson only giggled at the attention, waving his hand in a messy arc and showing off those same little teeth like he knew he was the moment.

Juicy laughed softly, the sound light and brief, but Smoke could tell her mind wasn’t fully in it. She was still stuck in whatever thoughts Sinclair had stirred up.

Sinclair gave her sister one last look, her eyes lingering a second longer than necessary on the man behind her. She clocked the way he sat—comfortably, as if this wasn’t his first time in that room. And something about that seemed to settle, or unsettle, in her chest. Then, without another word, she stepped out, gently guiding her son with her, and pulled the door shut behind them with a soft click.

Silence bloomed in the room like smoke after a match strike.

Juicy stood there, still holding the swimsuit, but her shoulders had stiffened. Smoke watched her quietly for a moment, studying the way her jaw tensed ever so slightly, the way her fingers gripped the bright orange fabric too tightly.

He didn’t speak right away. Just let the moment breathe. The silence between them was the kind that said a lot without either of them needing to say a damn thing. Summer heat curled in through the open window, thick and lazy, stirring the edges of the sheer curtains and gliding across her skin.

“You alright?” Smoke asked finally, his voice low, careful.

Juicy blinked like she’d just come out of a daze, turning to face him with a quick nod. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Smoke didn’t believe her, but he didn’t push—not yet. Instead, he let the moment sit. Let the tension hum like the faraway cicadas outside. He didn’t say anything for a second, just tilted his head slightly. “You sure?”

She gave him a softer smile then, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, just surprised me is all.” She pulled open the bottom drawer of her dresser, sifting through neatly folded swimsuits. “I didn’t know she was going over there.”

Smoke leaned back slightly, palms pressing into the mattress. “You not cool with that?”

Juicy shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “I mean… it’s whatever. It ain’t my business.”

But the edge in her voice betrayed her. Smoke caught it.

“She told you about taking him over there?”

“Nope.” Juicy popped the ‘p’ as she pulled out a swimsuit—bright orange with gold detailing—and tossed it onto the bed without looking at him. “But like I said, it’s whatever.”

Smoke nodded slowly. He didn’t push, just watched her for a beat longer. “Your folks… y’all not on good terms?”

Juicy paused again, her hand resting flat on the dresser, nails tapping rhythmically. The pause stretched out a little too long before she answered.

“We cool. Just… history, you know?” She said vaguely, grabbing a pair of shorts to go with the swimsuit. “It’s nothin’ new.”

Smoke hummed low in his throat, but didn’t press further. He could feel the wall going up in real time. Whatever the story was, she wasn’t ready to unpack it right now—not with her sister freshly gone and her mood already shaken.

He stood, walking up behind her slowly. “You don’t gotta pretend with me.” He said, voice softer now. “You don’t wanna talk about it, fine. But don’t do that ‘I’m fine’ shit.”

Juicy looked at him over her shoulder, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she gave a small smile—this one a little more real.

“Noted.”She murmured.

Smoke leaned down, pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Good.”

For a while, they stood like that. Quiet. Though everything unspoken still buzzed beneath the surface, but neither one of them needed to say anything. Outside, the world was still alive with chatter, sprinklers, and the faint bass of someone’s car rolling down the street.

Juicy finally pulled herself away from the stillness, tucking the different swimsuit options and shorts under her arm. “I’m gonna change real quick.” She said, tilting her head toward the bathroom. “Don’t peek.”

A slow grin began pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I ain’t say nothin’,” He murmured, voice rich and playful as he moved and sat back down on the bed. “I’ll be here.”

She raised her brows at him with a small laugh, disappearing into her bathroom with a soft click of the door behind her.

She gave him a quick glance before disappearing into the bathroom, the door clicking softly behind her. And as soon as she was gone, Smoke leaned back on his hands again, his gaze drifting toward the closed door.

Something in her sister’s visit—and Juicy’s too-calm reaction—lingered in his chest like smoke that wouldn’t quite clear. Whatever it was, he figured it wasn’t just history.

It was something more.

And he had a feeling that it wasn’t done showing its teeth.

Inside the bathroom, Juicy peeled off her tank top and shorts, stepping into the cool lining of her black-and-white gingham bikini set. The top had a halter neckline that hugged her curves just right, and the matching mini skirt hit high on her thighs, barely grazing the bottom curve of her cheeks. It was more fashion than function—more for looking good than getting wet. She had no intention of swimming today. Just a little sun, a little music, a little flirtation. Maybe a drink or two, maybe a little dancing. And with Smoke around… maybe more of the last one.

She smoothed down the skirt, adjusted the top, then stood back to glance at herself in the mirror. Hair still fresh from her wrap the night before, she slicked her high bun back with her fingers, adding a pair of gold hoops to finish the look. A swipe of glittery gloss, a spritz of body spray that smelled like coconut and vanilla, and she was done.

When she stepped back out into the bedroom, Smoke sat up a little straighter. His mouth opened slightly like he was about to say something slick, but no words came—just a long, appreciative glance that traveled from her glossy lips to her honey-toned thighs.

Juicy caught it and smirked. “What?” She teased.

He let out a breath, shaking his head slowly. “Ain’t nobody even gon’ make it in the pool wit’ you lookin’ like that.”

Juicy rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the little blush that crept up her neck. She crossed the room to grab her sandals, bending just a little too slow when she picked them up, and when she straightened, Smoke was still watching her.

“You tryin’ to be funny.” He said, narrowing his eyes playfully.

“I’m tryin’ to be fine.” She replied with a wink, slipping on her sandals and tossing her purse over her shoulder.

“Mission accomplished.”

They shared a grin as well as a laugh, something more easy and light, as if yesterday’s tension had been blown away with the breeze rolling through the window. Whatever that conversation had been, it didn’t follow them now. This was a new rhythm. A new beat.

As they headed out the door, Smoke opened it for her. “After you, Miss Juicy.”

Juicy giggled, flipping her silk scarf, which she now wore as decoration, as she passed. “You gon’ call me that all day now?”

“Yup,” He said, trailing behind her. “Miss Gingham if I’m nasty.”

She swatted at him as they walked down to his car, laughing. The heat had crept up since the morning, and by the time they got in, the leather seats were already warm under her thighs. She shifted, adjusting her skirt with a little tug.

The drive through the neighborhood was quick, familiar streets lined with porches and sun-faded cars, kids running through sprinklers and old heads playing dominoes under shade trees. Mary’s block was alive with the sound of a Saturday in May.

As they pulled up to the curb, Juicy leaned out the passenger window, scanning for her friend. She barely had time to blink before the screen door flew open and Mary burst out onto the porch, her high ponytail bouncing behind her and her gold sandals clacking against the wood steps.

“Y’all ready?!” Mary shouted, waving both arms like they hadn’t seen her in years. Her swimsuit was loud and proud, a bright yellow with white flowers, and a sheer cover-up that fluttered behind her as she jogged down the walk. “Let’s gooo, I been waitin’ since eight o’clock!”

Behind her, Missy stood on the porch, arms crossed and a faint smile on her lips. She was still in her house dress, a phone in one hand and the news paper tucked under had arm. She raised her hand when she spotted the car.

Smoke leaned a little, giving her a respectful nod after a quick blow of the horn in greeting. Juicy lifted her fingers in a wave, and Mary grinned, turning around to blow her mom a kiss.

“Be good!” Missy called, though her voice held no real warning. “And tell Sinclair I said hey!”

“I will!” Mary and Juicy called back.

The woman waved one last time, then disappeared inside with the slow creak of the screen door behind her.

Mary slid into the backseat, breathless and already pulling a tube of lip gloss out of her bag. “Okay. Playlist ready? Vibes set? Let’s go, I need to feel fine today.”

Juicy turned in her seat, grinning over her shoulder. “You always fine, girl.”

Smoke laughed softly, pulling off from the curb as the music kicked in, Ashanti’s ‘Rock Wit U’ floating through the speakers like the soundtrack to a perfect afternoon.

The sun was high now, casting long shadows and soaking the world in a white gold. And with Smoke behind the wheel, Juicy in the front seat in her barely-there skirt, and Mary gassing herself up in the back, everything about this moment felt exactly right.

Summer had never looked better.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The car rounded the corner and dipped onto the long gravel road leading to the city pool, tires crunching beneath the heat. The closer they got, the louder the music became, the bass vibrating through the thick, humid air like a heartbeat. Juicy leaned forward in her seat, peeking out the windshield as she caught sight of the blue glint of water and the crowds already swelling behind the black barred fence.

Smoke nodded toward the commotion. “Stack said he’ll meet us here. He on his way now.”

Mary perked up in the backseat, tugging her sunglasses down over her eyes. “Oop—Stack comin’? Say less.” Her voice danced with excitement, and she reached for her strawberry-scented body oil, giving her legs a quick gleam.

Juicy glanced at Smoke, smirking. “So this really gon’ be a thing, huh? Y’all going everywhere with us?

He shrugged, amused. “I just drive the car. I don’t ask no questions.

Mary rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh. “Please, you always ask questions.” Then she leaned forward between the seats, grinning. “But thank you for the ride, Mr. Chauffeur.”

“You welcome.” Smoke replied coolly, pulling into a shady patch near the edge of the lot. He cut the engine and leaned back in his seat, watching the scene unfold beyond the windshield. He then furrowed his brows, looking over at Juicy. “Dwait, didn’t y’all ask us to come?” He questioned.

“I thought you didn’t ask questions?” Juicy asked as she popped a piece of him in her mouth, smiling at him as Mary hopped out of the car to get the party started.

Despite the official Parks & Rec flyer calling it a “Family Fun Day,” the vibe was anything but kiddie. Sure, there were toddlers splashing in the shallow end and a few aunties under the pavilions eating BBQ on Styrofoam plates, but most of the crowd was teens and twenty-somethings, all fresh fits and flip-flops, drippin’ with baby oil and bottled water, posted up in every corner of the pool area with red solo cups.

The scent of grilled hot dogs and chlorine mixed with the blare of Chingy’s ‘Right Thurr’ booming through a set of old speakers someone had dragged to the edge of the pool deck. It was hot, it was loud, and it was everything summer was supposed to be.

Juicy opened her door and stepped out, the sun immediately warming her legs. She tugged her mini skirt down on instinct, though it didn’t do much. The fabric barely covered her, and when she turned, Smoke’s eyes flicked upward. She caught him.

“You lookin’?” She asked, hands on her hips.

“I ain’t say nothin’,” He replied, voice smooth as syrup.

“That’s not what I asked you.” She shot back with a wink, then reached into her purse to pull out her lip gloss. “Just know I seen it.”

Smoke chuckled low in his throat, closing his door and nodding toward the gate. “Let’s go before it get too packed. Some lil boy already doin’ flips by the ‘No Diving’ sign.”

Sure enough, as they stepped through the open gate, a boy with plaits came sailing through the air in mid-cannonball, splashing a group of girls who screamed and laughed while holding their phones and purses above their heads. A tangle of floaties bobbed along the edges of the pool, and people were posted up on every available inch of concrete—some laid out on towels, others perched on plastic lawn chairs with drinks in hand.

Juicy spotted a mutual friend of her, Lamont, almost immediately.

He wasn’t hard to miss. Shirtless in red trunks, chain swinging against his chest as he grinded behind some girl in a lime green bikini. One hand held a red cup, the other was suspiciously low on her waist, and he looked like he hadn’t seen a lifeguard whistle in at least twenty minutes.

Mary laughed when she saw him. “Lord, Lamont really acting like he ain’t on payroll.”

“Girl, he never act like he on payroll,” Juicy said, adjusting her hoops. “He only work here for the free hot dogs and attention.”

Up in the high chair, their homegirl Megan sat post, stoic as ever with her arms crossed, and clearly unamused. Her mirrored shades hid her eyes. She tapped her whistle once, loudly, then pointed at the boy gearing up to dive again.

They walked deeper into the party, weaving between coolers, foldout chairs, and sunbathing bodies. Juicy felt the eyes on her immediately—she always did—but today, with the sunlight catching her skin and the black-and-white gingham hugging her like it was made just for her, she felt it too. She wasn’t trying to swim. Wasn’t here for the water. Just the vibe. The music. And maybe the way Smoke’s hand brushed the small of her back every now and then as he guided her through the crowd.

Mary skipped ahead to greet a few friends already camped out by the edge of the pool, but Smoke and Juicy lingered by one of the empty loungers. He gestured to it, offering it like it was her throne.

“You tryna sit, or you gon’ stand here and let the sun hit you like a sexy model on a magazine cover? Cause I wouldn’t be mad at it if you stood in front of me.”

Juicy rolled her eyes and sank into the seat, crossing one leg over the other. “Magazine cover, huh?”

“Yeah, girl. You’re my Jet Beauty of the Week.” He said smoothly. “But better.”

She laughed, tipping her head back, and for a second, everything else disappeared—the splashes, the laughter. It was just them.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

Juicy lounged like she belonged in a music video. Her legs glistening from the shimmer lotion she dabbed on earlier, ankles crossed, chin tilted just enough to keep her glossed lips in the sun. Her magazine was open across her lap, pages fluttering in the breeze, catching her on a spread of luxury heels. Delicate strappy numbers from Jimmy Choo, those Miu Miu platforms she’d been eyeing since March, and some throwback Gucci slingbacks in cherry red. She licked her thumb and flipped the page lazily, humming along to “Frontin’” as it poured from the speakers set up by the snack stand.

Mary, meanwhile, was perched up next to her in the chair beside the lifeguard chair where Megan sat post—legs swinging, sunglasses halfway down her nose as she leaned in to whisper.

“No, like—he really tried to play in my face.”Mary said, voice low but clearly animated. “He called me from a random number and said he was at his grandmas. I called back a day later and some bitch named Tamika answered.” She scoffed.

Megan sis the same, disgust tracing her features. “He bold and dumb. That’s a deadly combo.”

“He’s a clown.” Mary muttered, adjusting her top. “What’s wild is I really liked him for a second. Like, I was plotting playlists for this man in my head. That’s how far gone I was.”

“Playlists?” Megan echoed, horrified. “Girl.”

“I know.” Mary groaned, covering her face with both hands. “I almost burned a CD.”

They both gasped dramatically in unison, and that was what caught Juicy’s attention. Her gaze shifted over the top of her magazine, brows lifting. “What? I wanna know.”

But neither girl responded. They just stared past her, toward the pool’s entrance, mouths parted in small, stunned expressions that leaned more into irritation than awe.

Juicy, never one to be left in the dark, lowered the glossy pages and followed their line of sight.

And there they were.

Anika and her crew.

Like clockwork, the pool gate creaked open and the temperature seemed to shift. The girls stepped through like they owned the pavement, all matching energy but not outfits. Anika’s hair was freshly pressed, as always, bouncing with every calculated step. She wore a coral bikini that looked expensive, her top tied perfectly above a flat, glistening stomach. Her girls followed close behind, equally beat—each with a fresh press, glossy lips, designer shades, and earrings that sparkled like the pool itself.

Their heels clicked against the concrete, like a warning shot.

Juicy turned her lip up slightly.

They were beautiful, no doubt. But that little flash of insecurity never even got the chance to rise—not after what Mary had whispered to her at the nail salon yesterday. About how Anika had openly talked about wanting to fuck either Stack or Smoke, like it was a game of eeny meeny miney hoe.

So Juicy didn’t gape like the others. She just squinted, unimpressed. “They not even dressed to swim.” She mumbled, flipping through her magazine with one hand and shrugging to herself.

Mary, without missing a beat, said, “Neither are you.” Glancing over at her.

Juicy’s eyes cut sharp to the side, a little grin curling at the corner of her mouth even as she rolled them. “And?”

Mary tilted her chin like Exactly, and turned back to Megan.

Juicy sighed and folded her magazine carefully, placing it in her chair. She stood, smoothed down the hem of her gingham mini skirt, and sauntered across the hot concrete until she reached the edge of the pool. It was packed—teenagers doing cannonballs, couples lounging waist-deep, kids with floaties. But she found a spot and slipped her sandals off, dipping her freshly-pedicured toes into the cool water.

She lowered herself until she was perched on the edge, knees drawn up, arms crossed as she turned back to Mary, who watched from afar like a proud big sister.

“Is this good enough?” Juicy asked, sass dripping off every syllable.

Mary stood from the lifeguard chair, smirking. “Nope.”

Before Juicy could respond, Mary marched over and without hesitation, slid right into the pool. A soft splash echoed, water rippling around her as she dunked everything but her hair. When she emerged, she slicked water down her arms and looked up with a wide grin.

“You gotta have more fun, girl.” She called.

Juicy answered with a very matter-of-fact middle finger, flashing her acrylics. Mary cracked up, kicking away and floating backwards into the deeper part of the pool.

Juicy couldn’t help but smile. Not the tight-lipped kind she reserved for strangers or polite moments, but something softer and much more easy and natural. Even in the middle of a party, with Anika’s clique parading around like they were filming a music video feature and the sun beating down like a spotlight, she still felt good. Still felt wanted.

Juicy let her legs sway gently in the water, toes flexing as they sliced through the shimmering blue. The sun warmed her skin, and the air smelled like cocoa butter, grill smoke, and chlorine. Her elbow rested lazily on her knee, her chin tucked into her palm as she scanned the poolside crowd with a dreamy kind of smile. Laughter rose in waves around her. Somebody hollered across the deep end. Girls squealed when a boy cannonballed too close.

Juicy’s eyes wandered, taking it all in—the summer buzz, the unapologetic joy of being young without weighing responsibility as if right now. For once, she wasn’t worried about how she looked or who was watching as she enjoyed the setting around her.

Until she saw Smoke.

He was crouched near the back corner where a group of guys surrounded a towel spread with bills and dice. Martin and a couple of his boys were laughing, talking shit, slapping palms between rolls. And Smoke was in his element, white wife pleaser clinging to his back, gold chain swinging low as he leaned in and watched the dice tumble.

Then he scooped the money up with one hand, the other brushing against his waves. He then glanced up and caught her in the middle of ogling.

His smirk deepened, shifting from cocky to slow and dangerous. His eyes roamed lazily, pausing at her bare shoulders, her shiny thighs, the subtle bounce of her curls in the heat. He looked like he was remembering things he shouldn’t be thinking about out in the open.

Juicy’s breath caught. Her lips parted slightly before she caught herself and looked away, cheeks warming as she let out a soft, involuntary laugh. That was all Smoke needed. He licked his bottom lip slowly and turned back to the dice game, but not before letting that smirk linger in her direction a few seconds longer than necessary, even if she wasn’t looking at him. He knew she felt the weight of his gaze.

She shook her head to herself, the faintest blush coloring her cheeks.

And then the gate creaked open again.

Juicy glanced up just in time to see Stack walk in, and if Smoke had her heart skipping, Stack had it full-on backflipping.

Unlike his brother, who stayed in his tank top, Stack came shirtless, and Lord—he knew what he was doing. The sun kissed every inch of his chest, his abs sculpted but not overdone. His torso glistened a bit, but she knew it wasn’t likely from the lotion or oil he slathered on before leaving the house, she could see the sweat beads he built up over time out in the Mississippi sun. Though the sheer did make the tattoos on his triceps pop, as the muscles flexed with each step he took. His black basketball shorts hung low on his hips, the waistband of his boxers peeking just above.

Juicy sucked in a quiet breath.

Jesus.

She didn’t even try to look away. How could she, when he walked with that kind of confidence. His eyes scanned the crowd lazily as he chewed gum, one hand dragging over his jaw before they landed on her.

And he smiled.

Stack didn’t bother to hide the way he looked at her. His gaze dropped, lingered on the way her thighs spread against the concrete, the glint of her new belly ring catching the sun— a tiny gem that matched the brightest star, little gold rays hanging. He didn’t even pretend not to notice the way her top lifted when she leaned back, or the way her lips parted ever so slightly at his gaze. She looked so good, he almost turned around and left, just to come back in again for the drama of it.

She had on something soft today, he realized. Not just her outfit, but her. The makeup, the lotion, the faint shimmer on her collarbones. Maybe it was the memory of last night, of his hand gripping the round of her ass while they kissed under the light of her porch. Maybe it was the way she said his name like a secret she wasn’t ready to share, breathing into his mouth as his hands exploded under her shorts. Either way, she was glowing, and he felt every bit of it hit him in the chest.

He winked.

And Juicy practically melted. She fumbled her gaze back to the water like it had answers, heart thudding as if the sun itself had reached down and tapped her on the shoulder.

Stack moved on toward his brother, the two of them meeting halfway with a dap and a shoulder bump. Juicy couldn’t hear what they said, but the way they laughed together, easy and familiar, made her stomach twist. It was strange, watching them like that—like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn’t kissed one of them in the dark the night before.

Like she hadn’t kissed the other one in broad daylight this morning.

Her fingers curled over the edge of the pool, nails tapping lightly. The music thumped on behind her, girls laughed, somebody cracked open a soda nearby—but her thoughts had narrowed to one singular sentence, loud and clear.

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into.”

And no amount of summer sun was gonna answer that for her.

By the time Mary had slinked back to the spot Juicy at the edge of the pool, her body was soaked and glistening, water droplets clinging to her skin like diamonds under the sun. Her pony was slicked back, her bikini clinging to her curves as she dropped beside her friend with a sigh of pure satisfaction.

“Girl, that water feels so good.” She said, wringing a bit of water from the end of her pony tail as she leaned back on her elbows. “You better stop being cute and come float with me.”

Juicy smiled faintly, her attention still half-watching the crowd. “I’ll think about it.”

“See? That’s your problem now. Always thinking about something.” Mary teased, nudging her with a damp foot. “Loosen up, it’s a pool party, not a courtroom.”

They both laughed softly, that lazy, sun-drunk kind of laughter, the kind that only came when your skin was warm and your stomach was full of the content of the splendid afternoon.

But the someone walked by and ruined it all.

Her heels clicked lightly against the pavement, despite the pool setting, and her glossy lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk as she passed the two girls.

“Hey, Juicy.” Pearline said, voice syrupy-sweet with just enough venom beneath it to sting. She barely paused, her eyes flicking over them with a casual kind of shade.

Juicy just looked at her, chin lifted slightly. Her mouth stayed closed, her eyes cool and unimpressed. Pearline didn’t wait for a response—didn’t need one, apparently. Her smirk deepened like she expected it.

Mary blinked after her, eyebrows furrowing. “Well damn.” She muttered, loud enough to be heard. “I’m here too, but okay.” She scoffed, causing Juicy to finally let out a soft laugh, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Ain’t nobody worried about ole girl.” She said, physically waving her off.

Mary hummed as she side-eyed the woman that walked away from them. “Not since she switched up soon as Anika rolled in with that fake ass Fendi, a different accent and a fresh silk press.” Mary said, shaking her head as she thought about how it all blew over. “Tragic, really. Anika can’t even speak Spanish and she’s supposed to be half Dominican. That was, like, all of her appeal.” She said, more to herself now as she scoffed.

Juicy didn’t answer right away. She was too busy watching Pearline strut away, heels clacking. That same old ache stirred in her chest, that old mix of resentment and something else—something deeper. Something she didn’t want to name.

She and Pearline hadn’t talked since junior year. Not since Pearline switched up on her, started rolling with Anika like she’d been born in Queens herself. Like she hadn’t once shared Kool-Aid in Juicy’s granny’s kitchen, or whispered about first crushes under the oak tree in Mary’s backyard. Or gossiped with them at the Friday night games.

And Mary knew. Mary had been there for the fall. For the way Juicy cried that night after Pearline left them at the dance, choosing Anika’s afterparty instead, not before leaving a nasty note and some hurtful words to the chubby girl. She’d been there when Juicy admitted that it wasn’t just about friendship—it was heartbreak. The kind that came when a person knew too much about your body, your laugh, your secrets. Pearline wasn’t just a best friend.

She was Juicy’s first almost. Something she’d never try aging after the hurt she faced.

And maybe that was why Juicy didn’t say anything now—just stood, brushing off her thighs as she grabbed her phone.

“I’ll be back.” She said quietly.

“Where you going?” Mary asked, concerned.

“Bathroom.”

Mary nodded, letting her go without pushing. She watched her friend disappear into the crowd, her expression softening. She knew what day this was turning into.

Juicy crossed the pool area quickly, dodging wet feet and floating beach balls, slipping into the public restroom near the concession stand. The moment she stepped inside, she grimaced.

The air was damp and sour. One of the sinks had a paper towel shoved in the drain, and water pooled on the floor like the aftermath of a middle school fight. The stalls were questionably clean, one of them with a door that hung off the hinge.

Juicy stepped back, shaking her head in disgust. “Yeah, no.” She mumbled to herself, turning right back around.

The better bathrooms were inside the main building, where the events coordinator worked and the lifeguards took breaks. She’d been in there once before—clean tile floors, working soap dispensers, and air conditioning. She needed that now.

She opened the back door and stepped outside again, sunlight smacking her full in the face as the bass from the music rattled the patio furniture. She squinted against the brightness—and that’s when she saw it. Juicy hadn’t even made it three steps back outside before the sight hit her square in the chest like a punch she wasn’t ready for.

Her steps faltered.

Anika.

She was walking—no, floating—across the concrete pool deck like it was a runway. Her long legs glistened with cocoa butter under the Mississippi sun, her flowy blouse flaring behind her like a flag of war. Her glossy lips curled into a slow, practiced smile as she made a beeline straight toward him.

Smoke.

Juicy stopped, dead in her tracks, eyes narrowing beneath her oversized Dior shades. Her fingers curled around the edge of her phone, the plastic digging into her palms as she watched the scene unfold in front of her like a movie she didn’t want to star in.

Anika reached him first, tilting her head in that way that always seemed rehearsed—chin dipped, lashes low, like she was some music video girl. In her manicured hand was a red solo cup, and she extended it to him like it was a gift.

And Smoke took it. He didn’t even seem to hesitate.

And that smile she knew so well—the one that tugged at just the left side of his mouth, the one he gave her that time—it was there. But it wasn’t for her.

It was for Anika.

Juicy’s stomach twisted so hard she felt dizzy.

She couldn’t hear what was being said, not from across the pool, but she didn’t need the words. The body language told it all. Anika touched his arm, ran her fingers down it with a softness that was far too familiar. And Smoke—he let her.

He didn’t pull away. He didn’t step back.

Whatever he said made Anika laugh—loud, hand to her chest like he’d just told the funniest joke on Earth. Her laugh was sharp, but Smoke didn’t flinch, he simply looked at the woman before him.

Juicy stood frozen, legs locked, sunglasses slipping down her nose. And for a moment, she forgot to breathe. She swallowed hard and turned, walking stiffly back to her lounge chair. She could feel the heat crawling up her neck, but it wasn’t from the sun.

Mary glanced over from her seat, noticing her face immediately. “Girl. What happened?”

Juicy dropped down beside her, yanking her towel across her lap and pushing her shades all the way up to hide her eyes.

“Nothin’.” She said quickly, but her voice betrayed her.

Mary blinked, followed her line of sight. “Wait. Is that…?”

“Yep.”

“And he’s talkin’ to her?”

“Yep.”

Mary let out a long whistle. “Oh, she was t playin’.”

Juicy didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

Because from where she sat, she could still see it all—the way Anika leaned against the fence, the way she kept angling her body so Smoke had a full view of her chest every time she flipped her hair. And worse, the way he looked.

Relaxed.

Entertained.

Interested.

It made Juicy’s throat tighten. She bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper.

Just this morning, he was grabbing her by the waist in her bedroom, whispering things in her ear that made her knees weak. She thought—hell, she felt—like something was building between them. Slow. Intense. Real.

But now he was out here laughing it up with a girl who wore matching designer bikinis and had two-toned highlights like they were still in a 702 music video.

And all Juicy could do was watch. It’s what she always did. What she bad grew accustomed to do.

“You good?” Mary asked again, voice softer this time.

Juicy forced a smile, but it barely held. “Course I am. Why would anyone be? I ain’t worried about no dude.”

But she was. And she hated herself for it.

Because no matter how hard she tried to sit still, her eyes kept flicking back to them. Anika was talking with her hands now, and Smoke was nodding, sipping whatever was in that damn cup. His gold chain glinted in the sunlight as he gave a smile again.

And maybe that was the part that stung the most.

He didn’t look mad anymore.

Didn’t look bothered about her walking away yesterday. Didn’t look like he even remembered.

She watched Anika press a hand to his chest—flat palm, fingers splayed like she was claiming him—and Juicy’s body tensed.

Maybe he really was feeling her. Maybe Smoke really was the type to flirt up a storm and move on the second a girl made him work too hard. Maybe all of their tension, all the flirting and teasing and late-night phone calls, meant more to her than it ever did to him.

She clenched her jaw and leaned back in her chair, trying to act like she didn’t care. Like she didn’t just see the boy who made her heart beat faster let another girl touch him like he was hers.

But inside, she was fuming.

And worst of all—hurt.

The kind of hurt you can’t even name out loud, because it’d mean admitting you care more than you said you did.

So instead, she crossed her arms. Pressed her lips into a hard line. And kept her eyes forward, pretending like she didn’t notice when Anika threw her head back in another laugh.

But she noticed.

She noticed everything.

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yanderestarangel · 7 months ago

Text

★ ! hidden desires — stalker!bruce wayne x male reader

a/n: This is a repost! The first post has been taken down ( by tumblr itself lol); sorry and thanks for letting me know.

♡⁠┊tw: stalking, suggestive behavior, fingering, casual sex, v! sex, ftm reader, sex with a condom, afab anatomy, blowjob.

Each time he remembered what he had done—stalking you for weeks from the shadows like the nocturnal creature he was—a strange sense of shame settled in his chest. He used his shadowy vigilante persona to justify his unhealthy obsession, but even that excuse felt hollow.

He kept insisting to himself, "It's just for his safety." However, the heat in his groin wouldn't let him pretend otherwise — standing in the rain and cold nights by the window in the building above your house... But lying and manipulating to get into your life and home was not something he usually did.

That night, you'd gone out to the club. People were whispering about a new drug called "Bliss" and some underworld drama involving Sofia Falcone, while the red lights of the club mixed with your carefree expression, oblivious to Gotham's lurking dangers.

Wayne, however, was watching you as always—from afar, waiting for the right moment to act.

He wasn’t oblivious; his glances at a few attractive men at the party hadn’t escaped the dark gaze of the guard’s blue irises. He knew his obsession with you had gone too far, yet he ignored the rational alarms ringing in his mind—and started toward you.

It hadn’t been very difficult for him to get into his pants and into his home, and, to be honest, he didn’t know whether to feel angry or surprised. Perhaps it was a bittersweet mixture he’d reflect on only after leaving the apartment, since, after all, his blood wasn’t exactly rushing to his head.

You whispered a question, asking his name, but his hands were too focused on exploring your body.

"Bruce," he growled, finally breaking the silence. "My name is Bruce." The words came out more tense than he’d anticipated, and he silently prayed you wouldn’t ask anything else—or recognize him as one of Gotham’s elusive big shots.

Bruce’s fingers pressed deeper into your warm, slick heat, curling just right against that sensitive spot that made you see stars. He felt you tighten around him, your body responding to every stroke. With an added finger, he stretched you gently, preparing you for more. His thumb found your clit, drawing tight, deliberate circles as he drove you closer to the edge with relentless precision.

Bruce murmured, "So tight. I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me," his voice thick with desire. His mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking hard, while his fingers continued their steady rhythm inside you. He felt the tremors in your body, heard your breathy moans, each sound and movement pushing you closer to the edge.

"Come for me," he demanded, his teeth grazing your flesh. "Come on my fingers like a good boy."

And you did, your walls clenching around him as you cried out in pleasure. Bruce guided you through it, prolonging your orgasm and drawing every last drop of ecstasy from your quivering form.

When you finally collapsed back onto the bed, spent and panting, Wayne withdrew his fingers and brought them to his lips. He licked them clean, savoring your taste and scent. It was so sweet and erotic that he felt his cock throb, and all the rationality and chivalry that defined his persona went out the window.

Quickly, the rest of your clothes were removed, and the man with black eye shadow sat on your bed, spreading his thighs and inviting you to suck his cock — a command you immediately obeyed. The sight of you on your knees, your plump lips stretched around his shaft, was almost too much for him.

He tangled his fingers in your hair, guiding your head as you moved up and down, taking him deeper and deeper into your throat, his hips rocking forward to meet your eager tongue. "Just like that, atta boy... Take it all."

He could feel you gagging around him, could hear the wet, obscene sounds of your slurping and sucking. It was music to his ears—a symphony of pleasure that nearly undid him. His other hand found your ass, squeezing the supple flesh as he pulled you closer, pressing his cock deeper down your throat. He could feel you struggling to breathe, could see the tears streaming down your cheeks, but he didn't relent.

"Look at me... I want to see your eyes when you choke on my cock."

He commanded, holding your gaze as you struggled to comply, your eyes watering as you fought for air. But you didn’t pull away or tap out; instead, you leaned in, taking him even deeper until your nose pressed against his pelvis. He was so close to climax, but he held back, wanting to savor this intense connection, feeling your body fully aligned with his.

"No fuck... not yet..." He grunted hoarsely taking his mouth off his cock as he shook trying to hold back his orgasm. "On your hands and knees, now." He ran his hands over your smooth skin, caressing your curves, your softness, a stark contrast to his own hard planes. He was prepared that night, carrying a condom in his jacket pocket, even though he thought the chances of him touching you were zero... Well, apparently not. He positioned himself behind you, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance.

With a slow thrust, he pushed forward, breaking your tight heat. He groaned at the sensation, at the way your walls clenched around him, trying to draw him deeper. He watched his cock disappear inside you, your tight heat enveloping him completely. He could feel every twitch, every pulse of your walls around him, could see the way your body yielded to his, taking him deeper and deeper.

But despite the overwhelming sensations, he remained silent, unsure of how to express the depth of his desire, the intensity of his need. He'd never been good with words, had always been better with actions, with his fists, with his body. You tried to talk to him, however Bruce's hand came down hard on your ass, the sharp sting of the slap echoing in the room. He watched as you jolted forward, your back arching, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

"Shh... Don't talk. Just feel." He punctuated his command with another slap, his fingers digging into the reddening flesh of your ass, holding you in place as he drove into you with renewed vigor. Wayne watched as you came undone beneath him, your body shaking, your walls clenching around his cock. He could feel your release coating his shaft, could hear your sweet whimpers filling the room.

And then he was coming too, his orgasm ripping through him like a tidal wave. He buried himself deep inside you, his hips grinding against your ass as he filled the condom with his seed. He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck. For a long moment, he simply held you, savoring the feeling of your body against his, the warmth of your skin, the racing of your heart.

He wasn't used to this, to the intimacy, to the vulnerability. He was better at fighting, at brooding, at being alone... Stalking you was a different thing than finally having you, and he felt no shame in having lied. So he pulled out of you, quickly disposing of the condom before rolling off the bed. He stood there for a moment, his back to you, his hands clenched at his sides.

"I...I should go," he mumbled, not quite meeting your eyes. "I have work to do... It was cool..."

He grabbed his clothes, dressing quickly, efficiently. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to bridge the gap between what had just happened and what came next... He was used to being your stalker, but now his brain couldn't function after finally getting what he wanted: you.

But he was sure of something, the feeling became more fixed in his chest... He was more addicted in you.

★ ! yanderestarangel©

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crescenthistory · 9 months ago

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I have the cutest idea. How about prompt b 3 with regulus black. Kinda Sunshine x grumpy, where reader is so openly in love with regulus and is just enjoying that even when regulus doesn’t seem to be returning their feelings (or at least not outwardly saying it). Just reader who is absolutely soft and understanding with Regulus.

😬😊 Hope you have a great day!

i genuinely had so much fun writing this, the request and dynamic fits perfectly with little reggie. thanks darling<3 i hope your day was great as well

Prompt: B.3 "You occupy my every thought"

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: not proofread, reggie is mentally unwell and a bit insecure, hinting at the black brothers drama, reader is very emotionally open and secure (good for you), friends-but-kinda-more dynamic going on, reader is bestie with the marauders

Regulus was not sure how or when it started.

Perhaps it was that day in the library when you strolled right up to him, breaking the sacred silence of the space with your bright voice, oblivious to the withering stares of Madam Pince and the other students. You sat down beside him, uninvited, and started chattering as though you had known him for years, as though the wall he meticulously kept around himself simply didn’t exist.

“You’re a good listener, did you know that?” you had said cheerfully after several minutes of mostly unreciprocated conversation. “We should sit together more often.”

Regulus hadn’t known what to say, so he didn’t say anything at all. He had merely given a curt nod, lips pressed into a thin line, and waited for you to get bored.

You never did.

Perhaps it only truly solidified when he was trying to read his book in the Slytherin common room while Barty, Evan and Dorcas did everything in their power to distract him, until you skipped in, plopping down beside him and asking him about his book with genuine interest. His friends were all shocked to see him actually give you an answer, albeit short, and most important of all not pushing you away. He allowed you to sit there and read over his shoulder, smiling dreamily at him, and shot the others a few dirty looks as they snickered. The feeling in his chest that he still can’t quite place, began to bloom in his chest then, and it has yet to let go.

Nevertheless, somehow you became a fixture in his life. You sat beside him in the library, during meals, and even in the quiet corners of the castle where he had once gone to find solitude, and now oddly didn’t mind sharing with you. There was always a smile on your face and a knowing look in your eyes, that remained trained on him, even when in the company of his or your friends. You never demanded conversation; in fact, there were days where you spoke little and just kept him company, respecting his occasional genuine need for silence as much as you successfully challenged it when you knew it was a facade. It baffled him, but he couldn’t say he disliked it. Far from it.

It took a while to get used to, and Regulus was not sure if he ever could entirely. He had grown up with everyone wanting something from him – his parents wanted the perfect heir after Sirius left, his friends wanted chaos, his brother wanted his trust. He dealt with it all by aiming for perfection, for control and precision, but he knew it was crushing him. Then, you – you had never once asked anything of him. You were just there one day, and you never left.

The habit of it all did start to settle and he found himself allowing you further and further in. A friendship formed, perhaps something more as well, and he revelled in it, even as the shame of doing so grew deep within him. The certainty that it was not forever was clear in his heart, but the way you looked at him, the way you spoke without a care in the world, made him think that maybe he could let himself enjoy this one thing while it lasted.

He began making space for you in his everyday life, part subconsciously, waiting for you outside your classrooms, saving you a seat wherever he was, seeking you out and allowing you to seek him. It was unspoken, yet you picked up on it so easily, so beautifully, making him feel a twinge of safety that he ached to chase. As Barty often teased him, you had become attached at the hip.

Which is one of the main reasons why he ended up on the floor of the Gryffindor common room, leaning against the edge of a sofa with a novel in his hands – because you wanted to spend time with your friends, and where you are, he went.

Unfortunately, though, your friends were primarily Regulus’ brother and his fellow troublemakers.

The common room was loud, filled with the usual banter and shouting, much less controlled than that in Slytherin. While you had long grown accustomed to the buzz of energy in the air, finding comfort in it, you knew the same was not the case for Regulus, so you had a hand playing with the curls at the back of his head as you sat leaning on the sofa’s armrest.

He wasn’t part of the lively conversation about Quidditch plays – though you knew he actually had several strong opinions on this very topic – nor was he trying to laugh along with Sirius’ absurd stories. He was there, present, yet apart from it all, seemingly chewing on a thousand thoughts. You ached to save him from them, but for now you settled on looking happily down with him and enjoying the feeling of his hair between your fingers.

“Oi, sweetheart!” James all but shouted as he threw a tiny piece of crumpled up paper at you, trying to gain your attention. Regulus didn’t look up from his book, but his ears quirked up. “I was talking to you!”

“Oh, sorry Jamie,” you said and Regulus had to fight his smile at the dreamy sound in your voice. “Was distracted.”

“I can see that.” James looked pointedly between you and Regulus. You didn’t dignify his hinting with a response.

“What was it you were saying?”

“Just asking you about your take on the story Siri just told… which I’m now seeing you didn’t even listen to.” Before you could reply, Sirius cut in.

"How do you do it?" Sirius's voice was a mix of bewilderment and amusement. "Regulus barely tolerates people, and yet, there you are, right beside him, like it's the most natural thing in the world."

At that, Regulus had to look up, giving his brother a levelling glare for the unwanted attention. You only smiled in response, glancing at Regulus and his tense posture, hand in his hair never slowing. "There's nothing to it," you had said simply. "He’s not hard to understand once you take the time. It is the most natural thing in the world."

Sirius looked like he wanted to say more, eyes boring into both you and Regulus, whose face was angled back down into his book but whose attention was anywhere but – but before he could, Lily intervened, steering the conversation towards some drama she just learned from Slughorn.

You looked down at Regulus, reading his body language like the book he clearly was not, and in one languid movement slid down from your seat to plop beside him on the floor. He looked over at you, expression unreadable, and you beamed at him.

The others carried on without much notice, except for Sirius who still had half an eye on you, raising a brow at your changed position from where he was draped over the armchair across the room. He glanced between you and his younger brother, visibly trying to figure out what the dynamic between you really was and what that meant for how he viewed you two. You paid it no mind, instead attentively zeroing in on Regulus and his mood.

You tucked your legs underneath you, leaning slightly closer to him. “You doing okay? You’ve been a bit quiet today,” you said softly, keeping your voice low enough so that the others wouldn’t hear.

Regulus’ eyes flickered toward you briefly, then over to the fire burning not far away from you, book forgotten in his lap. “I’m always quiet.”

“True,” you conceded with a grin, not deterred by his exterior attitude. “But this is the extra-brooding kind of quiet. The kind where your forehead does that little frowny thing.” You gestured to your own forehead, mimicking his usual frown.

He let out a short breath – something that was almost, but not quite, a laugh.

“There it is!” you teased gently.

Regulus shot you a look, one that others often labelled annoyance, but you could clearly tell was a form of confused entertainment. It seemed to ask you all the questions he would never say out loud. You had seen that look a lot, more than you could count, but it never stopped you from being your usual sunny self around him. If anything, it only made you want to stay closer.

“You don’t have to sit beside me, I’m fine,” he muttered after a moment, his voice so low it almost got lost in the noise of the room.

You shrugged and remained seated. “I know, but I want to.”

Silence settled between you two for a minute. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though; it never was. Despite how different you were, there was an odd sense of understanding that always seemed to hover between you. You could fill the space with chatter, or sit quietly, and somehow it was always okay.

Though, as the life bustled around you, you noticed how his left leg was unruly and how he had not flipped a page in his book since you sat down – and you knew Regulus was a fast reader.

After a while, you gave him another soft nudge. “Wanna get some air?”

Regulus hesitated, glancing at you like he wasn’t sure if you were serious, but when you kept his gaze, he eventually nodded, internally grumbling about how he had just thought how some air would be nice. You smiled and stood up, extending a hand to him. He gave in and took it. You led him out of the common room, keeping his hand in yours, winding through the corridors until you found a quiet nook just outside by the Black Lake, far enough from the castle to escape the noise but close enough that you could still hear the faint murmur of the wind over the water.

You plopped down on the soft grass and patted the spot next to you. In your newfound privacy, Regulus didn’t hesitate to sit down beside you, his arms resting on his knees as he stared out at the lake.

You took a deep, loud breath, night air clearing through your lungs, and it inspired him to do the same, much to your liking.

“Better?” you asked, drawing your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on them as you looked at him expectantly.

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze distant. The moonlight reflected off the water, casting a soft glow over both of you, and for a moment, you let the silence linger.

“Why do you do this?” Regulus finally asked, his voice low but tinged with something you had not heard before – something vulnerable.

“Do what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Follow me around,” he clarified, his eyes finally meeting yours. “Why do you bother with me? You could be with any of them.” He gestured vaguely back toward the castle where your friends were. “They’re fun, and loud, and… like you.”

The way he said it, like he was utterly convinced that you should be with people more like you, made your heart ache. You knew what he was trying to do – push you away, not with anger but with insecurity. He did this sometimes when his own thoughts became too heavy, you had seen it.

“Yeah, they’re fun,” you said lightly, keeping your tone easy. “But so are you. I like spending time with you, so I want to be here. With you.”

Regulus’ brow furrowed, and you could see the gears turning in his head. He didn’t get it. You wanted to tell him he didn’t need to, he just had to accept it, but you knew he was not quite ready for that.

“I don’t–” He exhaled sharply, frustration creeping into his voice. “I don’t understand why you chose me.”

You laugh a little at that, and he tries to ignore how it makes his heart race. “You say it like there was some grand plan and thoughtful process. I just spoke to you and found out I really like speaking to you, so I continued. I don’t know Reggie, I just like you. There doesn’t need to be any more to it than that.”

He stared at you silently, clearly trying to digest your words. This was the first time he challenged you about your friendship directly, before he had only hinted that maybe you shouldn’t run around with the likes of me, to which you had simply disagreed.

You smiled at him softly, wanting to guide him through what he was feeling. You leaned back on your hands as you looked up at the stars. “You want to know the truth?”

He didn’t respond, but you knew he was listening.

“You occupy my every thought, Regulus,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “So it’s only fitting you occupy my personal space as well. Even when I’m laughing with James, teasing Sirius, or debating something with Remus… I’m always thinking about you.”

Regulus’s mouth was slightly agape as he stared at you, and you had to fight a giggle at how flabbergasted he seemed – now was not the time.

He blinked, his confusion deepening. “Why?”

You tilted your head slightly. “Because you’re you, you’re Regulus. You don’t need to see it, because I do. I like the way you’re quiet but notice everything. I like the way you actually listen when I talk. I like the way you’re thoughtful, even if you try to hide it behind that whole grumpy façade.” You reached out, nudging his knee with your foot. “I like you, Regulus. Just as you are.”

He stared at you, utterly perplexed, like he couldn’t comprehend why someone like you, someone oh so lovely and lively, would be drawn to him of all people. But you just told him he didn’t need to get it – you got it for the both of you.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You could have anyone. Someone who’s better at… this.” He gestured vaguely between you two.

You leaned closer to him, keeping your eyes on his. “Maybe. But I don’t want anyone else.”

Regulus let out a quiet, almost involuntary laugh, as if the mere concept was funny to him, and you grinned, feeling like you’d just won some kind of secret victory.

“You’re a bit ridiculous, you know that?” There was no bite in his voice. In fact, the shine in his eyes almost looked… relieved. Like he was starting to believe you.

You scooted a little closer, closing the gap between you two, placing a tentative hand on his elbow “Yeah, but that doesn’t make it any less true.” You felt some of the tension melt off of him as he leaned into the feeling of your shoulder against his.

For a while, neither of you spoke, just sitting there by the lake, stars twinkling overhead. And though Regulus didn’t say it, you could feel the shift in him – something was softening, letting go.

After a long stretch of silence, he finally spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re… different.”

“Good different?” you asked, smiling softly.

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Good different.”

You beamed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Good. Though you better get used to it, because I’m not going anywhere.”

Regulus had a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. When he spoke next, it was so quiet that you almost didn’t hear him, but you did – and flowers bloomed in your chest.

“I’m glad.”

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clarkeysbedchem · 1 month ago

Text

damsel in distress

alfie buttle x fem reader

summary: you’re scared of spiders and alfie is the designated spider capturer

materlist | main masterlist

The living room was warm from the linger of the hot day that had slowly drifted away, and the soft buzz of the TV murmured lowly in the background filling the silence of the grotto.

You were curled into the corner of Alfie’s worn sofa with a blanket draped you’re your lap as you scrolled aimlessly through your phone. The Grotto felt peaceful on nights like this, your boyfriend having wandered off for a shower ten minutes ago, leaving the bathroom door open wide so he could shout random thoughts at you over the sound of running water.

You glanced up from your phone for a second as your eyes caught a flicker of movement near the armchair across the room. Something skittering low across the floor, too fast and too leggy for your liking.

You shot up straight, heart immediately racingm “No,” you whispered to yourself, “No, no, no.”

You bravely tiptoed over to where the spec had ran to and peek under the chair, already knowing you’d regret it.

And there it was. The biggest spider you had ever seen. It had to be the size of your hand and it was just sitting there.

You let out a yelp, a little louder than you had intended. Realistically, could’ve been classed as a scream from the sheer volume and panic that echoed through the grotto.

Not even a full minute passed by before Alfie tumbled into the room, water still dripping from his hair, a towel barely hanging on to his hips.

“What? What?! Are you alright? What happened?”

You were already on the sofa, standing on the arm, one hand pointing frantically toward the armchair like it’s on fire, “There’s a spider! Under the chair! It’s huge! Alf, I’m not kidding, it’s fucking massive!”

He paused, still panting slightly from the run, eyes darting to where you’re pointing and he just laughed. An amused, loud, and unhelpful laugh.

“You screamed like you were getting murdered, twat,” he commented, a stupid grin taking place on his face as he walked over to take a look, “It’s just a spider.”

“Just a spider?” you shrieked, “It’s monstrous! It has a face. It looked straight at me.”

He snorted, wandering over to the kitchen for a moment before returning with a glass and a bit of card, “Yeah, alright. I’ll save you. Try not to pass out.”

He crouched beside the chair, muttering something under his breath about you being a drama queen and how it was more scared of you than you were of it – to which you just rolled your eyes – and he carefully scooped the spider with the glass sliding the card underneath with slow precision.

You watched with wide eyes, still standing on the sofa as if another spider was gonna appear from under the sofa.

“See? Easy.” He straightened up with the glass in hand, the spider visible inside it.

You saw the cogs turning in his head and then the bastard took a few steps toward you, holding the glass out like an offering.

You screamed again, hitting your head on the slopped ceiling nearly falling off the arm of the sofa.

“Alfie! Stop it! I will actually kill you!”

He was full-on belly laughing now, the towel around his hips slipping down slightly as he doubles over, still holding the cup far away from himself but close enough to make you feel personally victimised.

“Alright, alright, I’ll be nice,” he managed through his laughter, finally heading toward the front door, “You’re cute when you’re scared.”

You glared at him, clutching a pillow to your chest for emotional support as you sat back down.

He opened the door gently setting the spider free before turning back to you, smirking as he closes the door behind him, “It’s gone. Crisis averted.”

“Tell your towel to hang on tighter next time you come running to save me,” you muttered, still glaring at him, grabbing your phone off the coffee table.

He raised a teasing eyebrow, “Jealous of the spider now, are we?”

You took the pillow from your lap and threw it at him which he caught effortlessly with a soft laugh.

taglist: @jamiekluivert @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @kiyoomology @canyouseethesainz @happyclifford @golden-hoax @tatumrileyslover @madforgeorge @wherethezoes-at @themdera @xlovergirlx @smzyyx @bowielovesyou @pretendyoucantseeme @elhotchner @duolingofanaccount @pookietv @ooostarwarsfandom501st @triplefrontierbabe @formulaal @artvscvntymullet

requested by: @graceln4

#clarkeysbedchem #ab x fem reader #ab fluff #alfie buttle fluff #alfie buttle x fem reader #alfie buttle #george clarkey #willne #chrismd #arthur hill #italianbach #arthurtv #uk yt #ukyt #british youtubers

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ts19009 · 6 months ago

Text

Seventeen Fic Rec's Part 4

(CONTAINS SMUT AND MATURE SUBJECT MATTER)

(Bold title means favorite)

(UPDATED: February 24th, 2025)

OT13

subtle svt dating.@xinganhao

PEDAL TO THE METAL (series masterlist) @diamonddaze01 (Welcome to the world of F1, where the cars go fast, the stakes go higher, and the drama never lifts off the throttle. Seventeen rules the grid—from precision strategies to podium glory. Whether it’s navigating a hairpin turn or a tricky love confession, the tension is always at maximum revs. So tighten your harness and adjust your visors—this isn’t just a race; it’s the ride of a lifetime.)

the lords who loved me (series masterlist) @amourcheol (smut, fluff, angst, bridgerton! au, regency au! for certain fics -> friends with benefits! au, opposites attract! au, sunshine x grumpy! au, slow burn! au, forbidden love! au, enemies to lovers! au)

what 2 am with them looks like @cxffecoupx

The Syndicates Collection @sailorsoons (this collection contains individual fics with each member of SVT paired with a different reader that occur in the same universe/AU and timeline. Each story is a stand alone, but three of them do have a connected/overarching plot. You do not need to read all of them to understand what’s going on, and all of the fics can be read as standalone one shots.)

Mingyu

Dessert First @highvern (baker! mingyu, wedding planner!YN, fluff, smut, angst, exes to lovers)

Cinnamon @daechwitatamic (You finally decide to try and move on after years of waiting for Mingyu to return your feelings. But when you start bringing your new boyfriend around more often, things with Mingyu get... difficult.)

Sunsets In December @nerdycheol (architect major!mingyu x literature major!f reader)

the budget @fxstpace (photography student!kim mingyu x art student!fem!reader)

lost in the west @starlightkyeom (fake dating (kind of), friends to lovers, holiday!au | fluff, smut, romance)

What they think @priisprii (idol au, Sugar daddy!Mingyu x sugar baby!reade)

So High School @lavnderwonu (fiancé!mingyu x pregnant!fem!reader)

HOW SWEET @hannieehaee (enemies to lovers, pining, one sided crush that becomes two sided!, afab reader, smut, teasing, semi public sex (its done in a public establishment but no one is there), breast play, food play (frosting on tits basically), fingering, handjob, penetrative sex, etc.)

flashing lights masterlist @gyuhao5 (model!minghao x f!assistant!reader x actor!mingyu)

EIGHT FIRST DATES @minkieater (maybe boys your age just weren’t your thing. after a sudden lunch date, you were already half convinced the search was over— had you found the man you were bringing to your family’s thanksgiving? how will chan take the news?)

Love Me Out Loud @twogyuu (Kim Mingyu was your first, but to him, he was for sure you were his endgame. One year out from university, no one expected you to be dating the former campus heartthrob. It's why you had to hide it from everyone – Mingyu's 14.5K Instagram followers, at least. However, the return of your childhood best friend Kim Taehyung to Seoul for a wedding, forces Mingyu to rethink the secrecy of your whole relationship. )

second servings @diamonddaze01(It’s safe to say that this Thanksgiving has been a rousing success)

sage & stardust @smileysuh (Fairy au, fantasy au, non idol. )

A Helping Hand - Part Two @idyllic-ghost (office worker!Mingyu x office worker!fem!reader Genre: office romance, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, coworkers-with-benefits)

Sit Down @gyuswhore (getting aroused by the other's jealousy/obsession with them, "Could he/she/they do it like this?”, “you're sexy when you're angry”)

Glass Towers @mr-cha-n (fluff, angst, smut, architect AU)

Sex Education @svtiddiess (In all your years of education you learned that there are many methods to study: flashcards, study groups, the pomodoro method etc. But you find that practice is better than theory. And what better way to study Biology than practice with your study buddy?)

the very first night @fxstpace (romance, angst, smut, exes to lovers!au, roommates!au)

Warm welcome @cherry-hulu (Nothing like a warm welcome for Mingyu after a stressful day at work. Warnings: Ceo!KMG x Sugar baby!reader)

so high school | kmg | part 2 @cherriegyuu (when you’re suddenly thrown in Mingyu’s direction, you have no choice but to stay by his side, and maybe it’s not as bad as you think)

Wonwoo

hanging by a moment @haologram (t's been a few years since you've been home for your birthday, and wonwoo can't wait to see you...right?)

Sucker For You @honeyhae-svt (smut, romance, humor, slice of life, wonwoo x reader, college au, slow burn to fast burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, cockwarming, gamer wonwoo, subtle dominance, light degradation, reader insert, cute dynamics, playful teasing, soft/dom wonwoo, loser!wonwoo x popular!reader.)

Through the Lens @mr-cha-n (Smut, fluff, photographer x model AU)

BOYFRIEND WONWOO ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ @seokmn

Born Superhero @thedensworld (Started as clueless father to superhero, watch how Wonwoo grow as a father... And a husband.)

never leave this bed @straylightdream (husband!jeon wonwoo x curvy!f.reader)

Love under a Microscope @whitesugarbaybee (Pathologist!Wonwoo x pathologist fem!reader Genre: Doctor au, shefellfirst-he fell harder, crack, fluff)

Sold For A Soul @tusswrites (making bargains with the devil in exchange for a chance to glory. lies, deception and uncovered feelings in a world of glitz and glam.)

Steam IV @highvern (ATLA au, enemies(?) to lovers, forbidden romance, royalty au)

1-800-got-stress @seokminfilm (non-idol au, college/professor au, slight romance (?), english professor wonwoo x teacher's assistant reader, tiny sprinkles of humor, one-sided crush (?), wonwoo is very dense when it comes to reader's romantic feelings (not really though), reader still loves him anyways, cute ending??)

In Front of Me (1) @wonustars (bestfriends to (?), angst, smut (R: 18+ mdni))

ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ (pt 2) @shuastar (ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴋᴇ!ᴡᴏɴᴡᴏᴏ x ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴄʜᴇꜱꜱ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) I'm obsessed with this one.

Heart of the Sea @highvern (angst, romance, adventure, pirate!au, royalty!au)

king of my heart @strawberrynamjoon (soulmates au?, non idol au)

Sweetest thing @sailorrhansol (Dad!Wonwoo x Mom!reader For the first Halloween in years, you and Wonwoo are able to enjoy it together without the kids. When you feel a little nervous about your costume, Wonwoo is determined to show you that you’ve always been the sweetest thing. )

after the seminar @smileysuh (sugar daddy Wonwoo, gentleman in the streets/softdom in the sheets, reader doesn't want to make choices, daddy/control kink, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral, blow job, deep throating, dirty talk, praise, masturbation, unprotected sex, holding hands while fucking, implied breeding/fullness kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) honey. (his) daddy.)

Joshua

all the petty scenes & all the pretty things @starlightkyeom ((one-sided) enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers (kinda) | smut & fluff)

Streak @wonwootattoo (it doesn't give a description, but know I loved this one)

not according to plan | hjs @starlightkyeom(fake dating, strangers to friends to ?? | fluff, slight angst, smut)

I (do)n't need you Pt. 1 @thestraybunny (Inspired by 2 minus 1 by Vernon and Joshua.It's been seven months since you and Joshua broke up, and you are still convincing yourselves that you don't need each other.)

royally screwed [m] @husbandhoshi ( between remembering last night’s party and pleasing your unrelenting family, you think being a princess is hard enough. then you’re thrust into an arranged marriage to royal darling joshua hong—straight-laced, infuriatingly obedient, and everything you’re not. pretending to be the perfect couple? impossible.)

love thy neighbor @junkissed (fwb! neighbor!joshua x f reader)

Lies and Butterflies @bluehoodiewoozi (fake dating au; mostly fluff.)

𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 @yerimacoustic (after the princess falls mysteriously ill, joshua, born with powers no one else in the palace knows about, becomes her caretaker.)

in a span of three months @viastro (in which you teach joshua how to live.)

Catalyst @hwanghyunjinenthusiast (A trip to your brother and niece's brings feelings your husband has been shoving down for months to the surface.)

Juno @shuafiles (one of me is cute, but two though? give it to me baby)

Jeonghan

don’t you want me, baby? — yjh @seungkw1 (80s au, romance, humor)

sweet monday afternoons @straylightdream (nonidol, linecook! jeonghan, waitress/baker!reader)

Merger & Acquisition (Of My Heart) @mr-cha-n(Jeonghan thought navigating corporate mergers was hard—turns out, navigating corporate mergers with his ex is harder.)

storm @tonicandjins (fluff, married life)

i'll always say it's you ; yoon jeonghan @junplusone (childhood best friends to ??? to ???, swearing, drinking (+ underage), talk of joshua and cheol's arm muscles, mention of drugs in a joke like once i think, caffeine addiction, peak delusion, jeonghan cheating in games as always, hella yearning)

reverse uno @twogyuu (Fluff, dad!jeonghan, mom!reader, uncle!wonwoo)

the gambit —- y.jh @miniseokminnies 9enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, 1960s au, university au, chess club president!jeonghan, club member!yn)

fated strut- pt. i @beomcoups (greek god!Jeonghan x model!reader)

daylight @kpopflowerfield (jeonghan is moving on from a heartbreak, starting again and making every experience feel new with you.)

Minghao

muddled hearts 🍹 x.mh @haologram (artender!xu minghao x fem!waitress!reader | side pairings: restaurant owners!jeongcheol ; bartender!seungkwan x waiter!hansol ; chef!mingyu x hostess!tzuyu (twice))

the xu minghao dilemma @shuaflix(fluff, humor, suggestive, coffee shop au, college au, childhood friends to lovers au)

\caught in bloom, caught on you @wheeboo (in which you find yourself becoming a regular𑁋or perhaps more than that𑁋at minghao's flower shop.)

lost in translation ♾️ @ylangelegy (translator/interpreter!reader, idiots in love, yearning!!!, hurt/comfort, confessions. alcohol consumption, reader gets a [minor] surgery)

Seokmin

Hint. Hint. HINT!!! @nerdycheol (College AU, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Crush)

smooth operator @ylangelegy (f1 racer!seokmin x ferrari race engineer!reader)

break your heart right back @kyeomszone (lovers to exes mingyu. rough sex. model! mingyu. cheating. baseball player! dokyeom. penetrative sex. gentle sex. body worship. oral sex (fem receiving). overstimulation. fem reader.)

Totally Scrooged @highvern (neighbor!au, idiots to lovers, fluff/angst/smut)

triple-dog dare @eoieopda (childhood best friends to lovers)

because even then, i knew @catboyieejeno (non idol! seokmin x reader, stanger to lovers / kdrama au)

The Somerset Affair | Chapter 2: When the Music Stops @diamonddaze01 (Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN)

assumptions @seokminfilm (major league baseball player!seokmin, popular x nobody,)

Chan

between you and me @haologram (holiday au. bffs to exes to lovers (what a doozy); angst, fluff, smut.)

Chapter One: How to Not Get Stabbed @mr-cha-n (action, smut, angst, fluff, superhero AU)

Kwon Soonyoung

Beggin' On My Knees @highvern (After another run in with the law, you come to terms with the fact your friends might be right about your fiancé.)

Espresso @highvern (dom/sub dynamics (switches back and forth), public fondling/exhibitionism, dry humping, fingering, breath play, oral sex (all the kinds), swallowing, spitting, degradation (reader calls herself a slut, hoshi has a moral dilemma about it), spanking, vaginal sex, anal sex, unprotected sex, double penetration, sex toys (butt plug, dildo))

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blueberrybirdsworld · 2 months ago

Text

Collision 3/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut

Warning : none

Serie Masterlist

CHAPTER 3 :

The Royal Opera House in Covent Garden stood like a monument to a time when art was worshipped like religion. Tonight, its grand entrance gleamed under a halo of soft amber lights, a string quartet playing near the entrance as elegant guests stepped from black cabs and town cars, their breath visible in the cold air.

Inside, everything glowed: marble floors reflecting chandeliers, velvet staircases winding upward like ribbon, golden balconies, the scent of expensive perfume and old wood. People murmured in soft voices, as if too loud a sound would shatter the illusion.

Lando Norris stood near the entrance, hands shoved in his pockets, tugging a little at the stiff collar of his tailored black suit.

“This is a bit much,” he muttered.

Pietra turned and shot him a look. “This, is culture. Behave yourself.”

Max adjusted his cufflinks beside him, eyeing the crowd like he wasn’t sure he belonged on. “Did you really drag us to a ballet?”

Pietra’s eyes twinkled. “Not just a ballet. The Nutcracker. Classic. Winter tradition. Magic. Glitter. Men in tights. Dreams.”

Lando lifted a brow. “Men in tights, huh?”

“Oh, grow up,” she laughed, swatting his arm. “It’s a masterpiece. And it’ll be good for you.”

“Good for me how?”

“Perspective,” she said smugly. “You’re always going on about cars and adrenaline and lap times. Well, try precision, beauty, and five pirouettes en pointe. Let’s see you do that.”

“I drive at 300km/h for a living,” he said dryly.

“And tonight you’ll sit still for two hours and appreciate that not everything is solved by horsepower,” Pietra countered. “Now straighten your jacket, we’re in a royal box. This is the Royal Opera House. Respect the moment.”

Lando sighed but complied, pulling at the lapel of his suit jacket. The group—dressed to the nines—ascended the staircase like tourists who had accidentally wandered into the dream of a duchess. The women glittered in long satin dresses, the men striking in black tie and sleek silhouettes.

And though Lando looked good he felt like he was walking through someone else’s story. The grandness, the quiet, the elegance—it wasn’t Monaco nightclubs or paddock chaos. It was another world entirely.

Inside their box, the lights dimmed.

Pietra leaned forward, eyes wide and sparkling. “Okay, okay, so,” she whispered like a child about to spill a secret. “The Nutcracker is a two-act ballet. In the first act, there’s a Christmas party, and a girl named Clara gets this magical nutcracker doll from a mysterious man. That night, everything becomes enchanted. The doll comes to life, there’s a fight with the Mouse King—don’t laugh—and then the nutcracker transforms into a prince.”

Max leaned closer. “And then?”

“Then they travel to the Land of Sweets, meet all these magical characters from different countries, and it’s all dreamy and symbolic and kind of romantic.”

“And people like this?” Lando asked, genuinely puzzled.

Pietra grinned. “People love this. Watch. You’ll see.”

The lights dimmed further.

A hush fell over the entire theatre.

And then, the curtain rose.

It started gently. A twinkling overture, warm lights over a wintry backdrop of a Christmas tree and glittering snow. Children ran across the stage in costumes, dancers moved in character, graceful and composed.

Lando was watching with polite curiosity when, halfway through the first act, everything shifted.

The moment she stepped onto the stage, it was like time paused.

Ariana.

His breath caught.

No warning. No introduction. No spotlight drama.

She entered as if summoned by the music, wearing a pale blush gown that shimmered under the lights, hair pulled back with a delicate silver ribbon. She was Clara. The Clara. The lead.

Lando blinked once. Twice.

His heart was suddenly very loud.

Pietra’s mouth dropped open.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “That’s her.”

Lando didn’t move. He couldn’t. His eyes were locked on her.

She floated across the stage—not just graceful, not just pretty—but impossibly, breathtakingly alive in a way he hadn’t seen before. Every movement was deliberate, yet effortless. She leapt and landed like gravity didn’t apply to her. She spun in tight, impossible circles, arms open as if catching stars.

She wasn’t just performing.

She was the story.

And suddenly, Lando understood.

Why she moved like that. Why she held herself the way she did. Why she had looked at him like noise in a quiet room. Because this—this was her universe. This was the language she spoke.

And he’d never even asked.

He felt a strange, tight twist in his chest. A mix of shame and awe.

He hadn’t known.

Hadn’t known she was this.

Throughout the rest of the ballet, he barely blinked.

He wasn’t the only one. The entire box was mesmerized. Even Max, who had made at least three jokes on the way in about falling asleep during the performance, now leaned forward, chin in hand, watching every scene like he was afraid to miss something.

They watched Ariana twirl through snowstorms, dance with the Nutcracker Prince, glide through dreamscapes and magic lands. Her expressions were soft and full of wonder, her body arching in impossible angles, muscles whispering with the kind of strength he hadn’t realized ballet required.

There were no words spoken on stage.

But Lando had never felt someone say so much with silence.

When the final curtain fell, the theatre erupted in applause.

The entire company bowed.

And then Ariana stepped forward, alone, bathed in golden light, cheeks flushed from exertion but serene, glowing. She bowed deep, arms sweeping with practiced elegance.

Lando clapped, but he couldn’t stop staring. Something twisted hard inside him again—like the moment you realize you’ve underestimated someone so completely it hurts.

Pietra leaned in close. “So… still think ballet’s boring?”

He swallowed. “She didn’t tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“What she does. Who she is.”

“Well, you didn’t actually ask,” Pietra said gently.

The applause was still echoing in Lando’s ears when they stepped back into the velvet-lined corridors of the Royal Opera House. The performance had ended, but he felt like he was still inside it somehow—like something had cracked open inside him and the air hadn’t quite settled.

Pietra turned to the group, eyes alight with the glow of champagne and satisfaction.

“So,” she said, with the flair of someone about to drop a bomb, “slight update. These weren’t just regular tickets.”

Max raised a brow. “Pietra…”

“They were donor tickets. Which means…” she leaned in closer, “they come with an invite to the post-show gala.”

“What gala?” Lando asked, distracted.

She grinned. “The gala. In the grand reception room. Dinner, champagne, the company dancers mingling with donors and patrons. Which means…” she gave Lando a pointed look, “she will be there.”

Lando’s pulse jumped before he could stop it.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

Five minutes later, he was striding through the gilded maze of corridors, ascending the wide staircase toward the reception hall, his jacket adjusted just enough to pass for elegant despite the nervous energy thrumming beneath it.

The gala was already in full swing.

Crystal chandeliers spilled golden light over towering arrangements of white roses. Waiters in white gloves wove through clusters of well-dressed guests with silver trays of champagne and amuse-bouches. A small quartet played softly in the corner, the music smooth and expensive.

And then—like a moment conjured from thin air—

She entered.

Ariana.

Her hair was pulled into a sleek high ponytail, the ends curled slightly and brushing her bare back. She wore a floor-length white silk gown that clung to her like poured light. The back dipped scandalously low, revealing the clean lines of her spine and the soft muscles of her shoulders. The neckline was delicate, held by thin straps, the fabric moving like water as she walked in heels she made seem silent.

He didn’t have the words for it.

Maybe no one did.

And apparently, he wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Almost instantly, she was surrounded. Dancers from the company enveloped her with cheers and laughter, their energy infectious. Some older patrons came forward, offering her flowers wrapped in tissue paper, others fawning with compliments, air kisses, and flutes of champagne she accepted with elegant restraint.

Lando watched from a distance, frozen in place.

Then he arrived.

The lead dancer from the ballet.

Tall, chiseled, with cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, and a dancer’s arrogant poise. He wore a midnight blue tuxedo that looked custom, his dark blond hair slicked back, smile gleaming like it had been rehearsed. And he greeted her like they were the only two people in the room.

His hand went to her waist first—innocent. Then her back. Lower. Too low.

Lando’s jaw tightened.

They were laughing at something. She leaned in to whisper something in his ear, and the dancer grinned like he’d just won a game no one else had even noticed being played.

Max appeared beside Lando with a champagne flute. “Dude. You look like you’re ready to fight someone.”

Lando didn’t respond.

“You gonna talk to her?”

“I’m trying,” he muttered. “But she’s surrounded.”

“And the blond guy?”

“Don’t ask.”

Pietra sidled up next, watching Ariana like a hawk. “She’s like… otherworldly tonight.”

“She always is,” Lando murmured.

Pietra glanced sideways at him, then smirked. “You’re so screwed.”

It was almost an hour after that Ariana slipped away.

He saw her excuse herself from the circle gently, handing her untouched champagne to someone else, her smile soft but clearly rehearsed. She walked through the tall glass doors onto the balcony that overlooked Covent Garden below, the city twinkling with holiday lights.

She stood there alone, arms resting lightly on the marble edge, her gown catching the breeze.

Lando didn’t wait.

He moved.

Quiet steps. Fast heart.

When he stepped onto the balcony, she turned—slowly, calmly. Her expression unreadable.

There was a long pause before either of them spoke.

“You followed me,” she said, voice soft, without surprise.

“You left the room,” he replied.

“Not everyone would follow.”

“I’m not everyone.”

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer. Then she turned back to the city lights.

He took a breath. “You were incredible tonight.”

A pause.

“Thank you.”

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I mean… really. I didn’t know. I didn’t know that was you. That you could do… that.”

She tilted her head slightly, looking at him from the corner of her eye. “You never asked.”

The words landed like a dart.

“I should have asked.” he admitted.

A flicker of something passed over her features—disbelief, or maybe disappointment.

“You didn’t seem that interested.”

“I was,” he said quickly. “I am.”

“But only now,” she said, her voice still calm, but with a slight edge. “Only after you saw me on stage. In a silk dress. Under lights.”

“That’s not true,” he said, stepping closer again. “I just didn’t know how to talk to you. You… you’re—”

“Different?”

He hesitated. “Not what I’m used to.”

She gave a small laugh, almost bitter. “That much is clear.”

He stepped closer, so close now the chill of the air seemed to warm between them.

“I didn’t come out here to fight,” he said, quieter now. “I just… needed to talk to you.”

“You’re doing that,” she said, her tone unreadable. “But why?”

He looked at her for a long moment. Then asked, quietly, “Can I ask you something first?”

She nodded, cautiously.

“Do you even know what I do?”

Ariana blinked, taken off guard. “No,” she admitted.

Lando gave a crooked smile. “Formula One driver.”

She stiffened. Visibly.

He watched the breath leave her lungs, slow and sharp like a cold wave.

“That’s sound… dangerous.”

“Sometimes, yeah.”

She turned to face him fully now, the silk of her gown catching moonlight, her arms crossing lightly in front of her body. “I don’t like dangerous things.”

He tilted his head. “Why not?”

“I prefer things I can control,” she said simply. “A set rhythm. A choreographed routine. No improvisation. Nothing sudden or reckless.”

He smiled—just a little. “I’m sudden and reckless.”

She didn’t smile back. “I noticed.”

There was a quiet beat between them, the breeze fluttering a piece of her hair across her cheek. She didn’t move to brush it away.

“I like being surprised,” Lando said. “The adrenaline, the edge of not knowing what’s coming. That’s… where I live.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“Maybe.” He took a small step forward, dropping his voice lower. “But it’s also kind of beautiful, if you learn how to see it. You should come watch sometime.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Just once,” he said. “You let me into your world tonight. Let me show you mine.”

“I don’t like danger,” she repeated, but softer this time.

He gave her a look that lingered, slow and deliberate. “Maybe you don’t hate it as much as you think.”

The tension between them shifted again—less prickly now, more charged. Her lips parted like she wanted to speak but changed her mind.

“You really didn’t know I was a dancer?” she asked, quietly.

“No. And I don’t know why it makes me feel like I’ve missed a hundred important things.”

“You did.”

Her voice was soft. Closer now. He could see the curve of her collarbone, the gentle rise and fall of her breath.

“I want to know them now,” he said.

She searched his face, something undecided flickering behind her eyes. Then he ask—

“That dancer earlier. The one who played the prince.”

Ariana stiffened. “We trained together since we were thirteen. He’s like a brother.”

“…Didn’t look like a brother.”

She smirked. “You’re jealous.”

He didn’t deny it.

“You’re possessive for someone who barely knows me,” she said, stepping a little closer. Just enough for her perfume—something floral, sweet, and faintly powdery—to wrap around him.

“I want to change that,” he said, voice low. “The barely part.”

The distance between them had all but vanished.

A wind passed through the balcony, her silk skirt brushing his legs, her ponytail swaying softly. Her eyes searched his face—carefully, cautiously.

“Still not sure about you,” she whispered.

“Good,” he whispered back. “I’m not sure about me either.”

Her lips parted.

Then— Someone called her name from inside. The spell shattered.

She stepped back, visibly pulling herself together.

“I should go,” she said gently.

Lando nodded, pulse thudding.

But as he turned to leave, she called softly, “Lando?”

He paused.

Her eyes met his, one last time.

“You look good in a suit.”

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild

Let me know if you wanted to be added to the taglist !

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momo-minomo · 13 days ago

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I like to think of Tim and Damian as the Batfamily artists. (In my mind Cass dances, Jason writes, and of course Dick is an amazing performer but I’m referring to traditional visual arts you’d view in a gallery) but in entirely different styles and mediums.

Damian’s love of art is expressed through capturing fleeting moments. He sketches, uses markers and color pencils, and even carries around an urban sketching kit for quick and loose watercolor paintings. He loves capturing motion and life, his cat sunning itself, Dick mid jump, even bold watercolor sketches of Batman mid punch. He spent so long hiding his own emotions or dissecting everyone else’s that he just wants to express and capture them for his own enjoyment now. A moody pen and wash because he’s sad or bright bold pops of color with markers to capture Jon’s joy. The family still argues over what idiot gave Damian paint pens and spray cans and taught him about graffiti but he’s tagged most of Gotham and half of Metropolis at this point. Some blame Duke and Jason, some Dick for always indulging Damian’s less serious side. No one ever guesses it was Tim. Tim was SO very proud of Damian’s bold protest art that showed up all across the front entrance to city hall overnight.

Tim’s mediums of choice are VERY different. For artistic expression his first choice is always his camera. Tim is able to take the most stunning photos that leave his audience breathless. Partly for the drama and action in his shots and partly out of terror because there’s no way Tim was able to take that shot while holding onto anything but his camera while hurtling through the air over a firefight! What the hell Tim I can see the reflection of that gun’s muzzle flash on my helmet’s lenses! How are you not dead?! How did I not fucking SEE you?!

His other medium is oil paint. Tim loves the precision and planning in his painting. The only original paintings he’ll make is the occasional formal family portrait for Bruce when he asks. No, Tim discovered his love for painting when Bruce sent him to learn about art forgery during his training days. Tim fell in love with the half art, half science of it all. He loves figuring out how to match the chemical fingerprint of 16th century paint, to copy it so exactly it would take 10 years before someone realized it wasn’t decaying at a rate consistent for the authentic historical paint. He loves studying the techniques of great masters until not a single brush stroke can be found to differentiate them. Mostly he makes his forgeries for his own amusement or to study how a forger he’s investigating did theirs.

Secretly though, he’s done a couple favors for a few people. Selena has approached him a few times for a replacement to put in some rich, dangerous man or other’s private collection so the original can return to the countries they actually belong to without a blood bath. Constantine has also called in a few favors so he can burn a possessed/cursed painting or three without museum curators pitching a fit that he “destroyed a priceless work of art, you maniac!”. Bruce pretends desperately that most of his Robins are not a hop and a skip away from a successful and fulfilling lives as criminals. It helps him sleep a bit better at night.

#batfamily #tim drake #batfam #damian wayne #tim & damian #batbros #batfamily headcanons #batfamily shenanigans #damian wayne is an artist #tim drake is an artist #photographer tim drake #red robin dc #robin dc #dc robin

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save-the-data · 1 year ago

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Precise Shot | S01E02

Chinese Drama - 2020, 20 episodes

~~ Adapted from the manhua "Aiming at You" (瞄准你了) by Shen Shen Jun (申申菌).

Native Title: #精准射击

A: "Aiming at You" (瞄准你了) by Shen Shen Jun (申申菌).

Genres: #Bromance #Youth #Sports

Tags: #Athlete Male Lead #Censored Adaptation of Same-sex Original Work #Short Length Series #Cohabitation

Cast: #Wen Yi Fan #Xia Zhi Yuan

#Drama: Precise Shot #CDrama #精准射击 #Short Length Series #Chinese Drama - 2020 #Drama: 2020 #Wen Yi Fan #Xia Zhi Yuan #NON BL #Post: Repost #Athlete Male Lead #Censored Adaptation of Same-sex Original Work #Co-habitation #Bromance #Youth #Sports

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lvciddreqms · 26 days ago

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Pairing: Zac Torres x reader (Motorheads)

Genre: romance/rivalry/drama

Setting: Ironwood, Pennsylvania

A/n: people are begging for stories about Motorheads so I'm coming in clutch

Full throttle

The sound of engines roaring through Ironwood was nothing new to you. Born and raised in this sleepy rusty belt town, you basically grew up with grease on your hands and the scent of gasoline in your lungs. Your car, a sleek and always shiny Ferrari, had earned respect on the street circuit. People knew your name. You were fast, precise, and not afraid to take risks.

So when the new guy rolled in, you didn't show much interest, often side eying him from a distance. "Zac Torres." He said, offering a hand that you didn't shake. "Heard your fast." You silently leaned against the hood of your car, arms crossed. "And I heard you were just passing through." You said with a grin on your face.

Zac grinned back, sheepishly chuckling. "Guess we're both gonna dissapoint somebody.." He said, his hand resting on the side of his neck. "It's basically in my blood." You raised your brow at that. "Christian Maddox is my dad." He said. You looked him up and down. "I'll bet... so, I'm guessing you can drive then?" You said, putting a hand on your hip. ".... not.. necessarily..?" He said. "But I will, and I think I'll beat you doing it." He smiled.

That's how it started, the rivalry. Every practice race you did with him at Ray's became personal. On the line, it was you versus him, and nobody else mattered. He'd clip your bumper. You'd cut his line. Trash talk flew as the tires burned, and still, he kept showing up. "Nice try." He said after a narrow win one night, brushing a smudge of engine grease from his cheek bone. "You almost had me."

"Next time I will." You shot back, walking passed him, heart hammering louder than the engine still cooling under your hood. Race after race, no matter who won, it was basically the same thing each time. But then things.. shifted. One night, the rain came down hard, and the track was slick. Zac spun out on a tight corner, skidding off of the track.

You were the only one who stopped. Pulled over. Ran toward the wreck before anyone else could even yell his name. "Are you okay??" You shouted over the intense rain, yanking open his door. Zac blinked at you, dazed. "Y-you came back." He said. You lightly scoffed. "You think I'd let you die before I could even beat you?" You said.

He laughed-genuinely laughed-and it did something weird in your chest. After that rainy night, everything changed, you guys changed. You still raced. Still challenged each other. But the looks lasted longer. The tension in your glares softened. You caught him watching you as you tuned your car, fingers stained black with oil, his eyes unreadable.

"You know." He said, sliding up next to you in the garage. "I used to think you hated me." You didn't look at him, slightly smiling, staying silent for a second before replying. "I did." You chuckled. "And now?" He said, leaning against the car. You rolled your eyes with a light smirk, tossing him a wrench. "Now you just annoy me slightly less."

Zac caught the tool with a smile. "Progress." He responded, fiddling with the tool in his hand. A couple days had passed and Zac had continued to hover around. But lately, it wasn't just rivalry that kept him close. It was something else. Something neither of you were saying. You caught him leaning against your car one day before the race.

"Touch my car, and you're losing your fingers." You warned with a grin, chin tilted as you approached. He smirked. "Relax, just admiring the curves." You snorted. "Keep talking and I'll make sure your eating dust today." Zac leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear. "Wouldn't be the worst way to lose."

You blinked, caught off guard. Heat climbed up the back of your neck, but you masked it with a shove to his shoulder. "Get back to your car Torres." You scoffed. He grinned but did as said. The night air buzzed with energy. Engines revved and tires squealed as headlights lined the makeshift track along an old industrial stretch of road. You and Zac were both up in the final race of the night.

Not head to head, but close enough. Close enough that everyone was watching you two like it was a championship bout. You lined up next to him at the start, both cars idling in sync. Through the roar of engines, Zac looked across at you, with a blank expression. "This ones for real."

You nodded once. "They always are." The flag then dropped. You launched forward, tires screetching. Adrenaline surged through your veins as your car hugged corners and flew passed graffiti covered walls. Zac was just ahead at first, but you pushed your limits. Turning your instincts and cutting tighter lines until you were right beside him.

Every turn was a challenge. Every second felt like a dare. And you crossed the finish line-barely ahead-it was like the world stopped spinning. You stumbled out of your car, breathless, heart pounding like it was trying to escape your chest. The crowd was cheering but all you could see was Zac standing across from you. He was smiling, not cocky, not smug. Just... proud.

You walked up to him, trying not to smile yourself. "Guess I win." You said, arms crossed. He looked down at you, eyes flickering between your face and your lips. "Guess you do." Silence stretched. Then, suddenly, he stepped closer, just enough for his voice to drop low again. "You gonna talk trash or-"

You cut him off with a kiss. It wasn't planned. It wasn't delicate. It was impulsive, heated, and charged with everything you hadn't said over the weeks of racing, arguing, almost flirting. Zac didn't hesitate. His hand cupped your jaw, pulling you in like he'd been waiting for this. Your fingers curled into the front of his hoodie, grounding yourself as the crowd dissapeared.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you said. "Still think you can leave me in the dust?" Zac's smile returned, lazy and warm. "Nah, I think I just wanna keep chasing you." He said, pulling you back into a kiss.

#zac torres #motorheads #motorhead #x reader #x yn #reader insert #tumblr fyp #fyp #fyppage #trending #zac torres x reader #motorheads x reader

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yungistiny · 20 days ago

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bed chem ═ chapter two

[ J. Yunho + S. Mingi ]

chapter two: say his name

╚═════════

summary: yunho is trying to make a name for himself as a new up and coming photographer, he has no room for distractions, but model couple, y/n and mingi, seemed to want to tempt him

warnings: dom yunho, switch mingi, switch reader, possessive mingi, choking, overstimulation, multiple orgasm, unprotected sex, creampie, eventual throuple, threesome, more to be added

genre: romance, drama, smut

pairings: photographer yunho x model afab reader x model mingi

word count: 8.5k

chapter one

chapter three coming soon

masterlist

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The floor of their apartment was covered in half zipped suitcases, piles of black and denim, sunglasses, boots, garment bags, and an unopened bottle of wine Mingi had thrown in “just in case.” Y/N sat cross legged on the bed, folding a Balmain blazer with military precision, while Mingi rummaged through the bathroom looking for his cologne.

“Did you pack the chargers?” Y/N called out.

“Do I look like someone who packs chargers?” Mingi replied, voice muffled.

“No,” Seonghwa said as he stepped inside, tablet in hand, unbothered as usual by the chaos. “That’s why I brought extras.”

Y/N grinned up at him. “Our favorite control freak.”

Seonghwa didn’t even blink. “If I weren’t a control freak, you two would’ve missed your Vogue shoot entirely because you were too busy dripping coconut oil on each other.”

“That was artistic preparation,” Mingi argued, stepping into the room in a half buttoned silk shirt. “Mood setting.”

“For each other?” Seonghwa said dryly.

Y/N snorted.

“Alright,” he continued, ignoring them both as he pulled up their updated schedule. “You land in Paris Monday morning. Mingi, your Diesel fitting is at four. Y/N, Balmain has you booked all Tuesday. You’re walking in their closing show, so expect chaos, cameras, and Champagne.”

Mingi dropped down next to Y/N, glancing at the tablet. “Diesel’s letting me close too. Double trouble.”

“Fitting,” Seonghwa muttered. “You two are the embodiment of it.”

Y/N leaned back on her hands, twisting a silver ring around her finger. “You know what’s not fitting?”

“What?”

“We haven’t seen Yunho since the Vogue shoot,” she said, voice deceptively light. “Feels wrong, doesn’t it, baby?”

Mingi hummed, thoughtful. “Very wrong.”

Seonghwa sighed, not looking up. “Don’t even start.”

“We’re not starting anything,” Mingi said innocently.

Y/N tilted her head. “We just miss his photographic direction.”

Seonghwa shot them a look over the top of his tablet. “I’ve already spoken to his agency.”

Both heads snapped toward him.

“You what?” Mingi asked.

Seonghwa didn’t flinch. “There’s a chance he’ll be shooting some of the backstage portraits at Paris Fashion Week. Unconfirmed. So behave.”

Y/N lips curled. “Oh, we always behave.”

Seonghwa looked her dead in the eye. “You’ve never behaved a day in your life.”

She blew him a kiss.

Mingi stretched, draping an arm around her shoulders. “Paris is going to be fun.”

Seonghwa groaned. “Paris is going to be a migraine.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The sun was golden as it dipped over the rooftops, casting the streets of the Marais in that cinematic kind of glow that made everything feel like a movie. A breeze rolled in off the Seine, warm but sharp, lifting the edge of Y/N delicate silk and lace dress as she stepped onto the sidewalk, heels tapping a lazy rhythm.

She didn’t bother fixing the hem. She liked the way it felt.

Beside her, Mingi was all smooth shadows in head to toe black, loose trousers, fitted jacket, a sleek silver chain hanging from his neck, catching the light every time he moved. His sunglasses were perched low on his nose as he scanned the street, his arm casually slung around her waist.

They were fresh off the plane, checked into their suite not even an hour ago, and already too glamorous for the locals.

Y/N spotted the cafe first. A quiet one tucked away on the corner, its sidewalk tables half filled with beautiful people pretending not to care that they were being watched. She reached for Mingi’s hand. “Let’s grab something before the fitting.”

“I want coffee and something disgustingly French,” Mingi said, steering them toward the patio.

They barely got a few steps before she froze.

“Wait,” she murmured, fingers tightening slightly around his.

Mingi followed her gaze.

And there he was.

Yunho.

Sitting alone at a small round table near the edge of the cafe, camera resting on the table beside his drink, flipping through photos on his iPad with the same calm focus he always had. He was wearing a slate gray turtleneck under a structured coat, hair slightly tousled from the breeze, lips parted just enough to make it look unintentional.

He hadn’t seen them yet.

Y/N leaned in close to Mingi, her voice a soft murmur behind a teasing smile. “Fate has such impeccable timing.”

Mingi chuckled low, dark and amused. “Or Seonghwa lied about him being unconfirmed.”

Y/N didn’t wait, she stepped forward, hips swaying with purpose, her dress catching the light just right as she moved into his line of sight. Yunho looked up. Froze. Blinked.

Then sat back a little too quickly, like his spine had just remembered how to hold tension.

“Bonjour,” Y/N purred, reaching his table.

Yunho straightened. “Oh, hey. I didn’t know you two…”

“Were in Paris?” Mingi finished, sliding his sunglasses up onto his head, smiling like he already knew every thought Yunho was trying to push away. “Neither did you, apparently.”

Y/N leaned over the table slightly, lace neckline dipping in a way that made Yunho glance away for a second too long. “We missed your face, Yunho.”

His ears turned pink.

“I didn’t know I’d be seeing you again,” Yunho said, voice low, careful. “Not this soon.”

“We’re walking,” Mingi said easily. “Diesel for me. Balmain for her. Seonghwa’s working us to death.”

Y/N ran a finger around the rim of Yunho’s coffee cup. “Are you shooting backstage?”

Yunho hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Balmain and Diesel both, actually. Editorials. Portraits.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, eyes bright. “So we’ll be seeing a lot of you.”

Mingi pulled out a chair and sat down like he owned the whole sidewalk. “Might as well join you now. You know how the three of us always make the best pictures.”

Yunho swallowed, looking at the two of them like they were heat waves on pavement. Impossible not to stare at, impossible not to want.

“Yeah,” he said, slowly. “I remember.”

Yunho sat back in his chair, absently stirring his coffee, but his attention was fully on Y/N and Mingi.

They were laughing. Really laughing. There was something completely different about them now, something behind the smiles that wasn’t for the cameras. It was in the way Mingi’s hand rested on Y/N knee under the table, fingers lazily tracing circles on her skin. It was the quiet way she leaned in to whisper something in his ear, making Mingi’s whole face light up, the rare, real smile that was always so hard to catch on film.

Yunho’s gaze lingered on them, drawn to the unspoken intimacy between them.

They weren’t just models. They were… them. Y/N hand brushed against Mingi’s, his fingers wrapping around hers as they sat there, still as if the world around them didn’t exist. They weren’t putting on a show, this wasn’t for the photographers or anyone else. This was just… them.

Yunho had seen them on the runway, posing in front of cameras, every movement calculated and flawless. But now, in this quiet moment, he saw them as something else, two people who had built something real out of the glimmering world they existed in. The chemistry wasn’t just a facade. It was natural, like they’d been a couple for years.

The way Mingi looked at her.

The way she smiled softly at him, as if she couldn’t stop herself.

Yunho leaned back, unsure if he should look away. He felt almost like an intruder, like he was trespassing in a world he wasn’t supposed to see.

When Mingi caught his eye across the table, he didn’t even try to hide the smug grin that pulled at his lips. He was aware, aware of the way Yunho had been observing them, aware that he and Y/N had a kind of connection no one else could touch. Yunho felt his face flush, but Mingi didn’t break his gaze. Instead, he leaned in, dropping his voice low.

“You’ve been staring at us for a while, Yunho,” he teased, his tone smooth, like the kind of dangerous casualness that made Yunho’s heart skip.

Y/N, who had been absorbed in their little private world, glanced over at Yunho with a tilt of her head. “He’s just trying to figure out if he wants to take us home or if he’s already planning his next shoot,” she said, eyes dancing with mischief.

Yunho could feel his chest tighten, a heat crawling up his neck. “I…. uh…”

Mingi chuckled, rubbing his thumb across Y/N hand, squeezing it like he was marking territory. “It’s okay. We’re used to being admired.”

Y/N smiled, but there was something soft about it now. No longer playful, just… honest. She leaned in closer to Mingi, her lips brushing against his ear, and whispered something too quiet for Yunho to hear.

Whatever it was, Mingi’s smile grew wider, and it felt like the world shrank around them, making Yunho feel like an outsider in the moment they shared.

He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. “Sorry, didn’t mean to stare.”

Y/N gaze softened, and she reached out, her hand brushing Yunho’s shoulder. “Don’t apologize. It’s just…” She met Mingi’s eyes, and for a moment, Yunho saw something deeper in her expression. Something almost… vulnerable. “Sometimes, we forget how to be ourselves when we’re always in the spotlight. You saw something real just now.”

Mingi’s gaze softened too, and he dropped a gentle kiss to her temple, the kind of kiss only someone who truly cared could give. “It’s easy to forget we’re more than just models.”

Yunho nodded, but his mind was racing. He hadn’t just seen two models today. He’d seen a couple, deeply in sync, aware of each other in a way that made Yunho feel like the third wheel just by being in the same room.

His stomach twisted, but he pushed the feeling aside. He had no place in their world. Not yet, at least.

“Well,” Yunho finally said, trying to lighten the mood, “I guess I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll let you two enjoy your Paris coffee.”

Y/N gave him a smile, and this time, it was softer, more sincere. “Thanks for understanding. It’s just… sometimes we need a reminder of what we have when the cameras aren’t watching.”

Mingi slid his arm around her, pulling her a little closer, and winked at Yunho. “But don’t get any ideas. She’s taken.”

Yunho chuckled awkwardly, feeling a little too exposed. “Got it. No competition here.”

As they all sat back into a comfortable silence, Yunho couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just witnessed something precious, something far more than just what he’d expected from the pair of them.

He’d always seen the polished exterior of Y/N and Mingi. But this… this was the heart of who they were.

And he was starting to wonder if he was becoming too interested in it.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The city buzzed with that effortless Parisian elegance, lights flickering across cobblestone streets as Yunho followed Seonghwa and Hoshi Kwan into a dimly lit bar tucked off the beaten path. A cozy booth in the corner was waiting for them, and Yunho sank into the seat across from Hoshi, his mind still lingering on the earlier run in with Y/N and Mingi at the cafe.

He couldn’t lie to himself, seeing them again had messed with his head more than it should’ve. Not as models this time. Not styled for the camera. Just them. Y/N in that lace silk dress, Mingi all in black, his hand at the small of her back, their shared glances so intimate it made Yunho feel like an intruder.

“So, Yunho,” Hoshi was grinning as he leaned in, already sipping on a cocktail. “Seonghwa’s told me about you. Heard you worked with Y/N and Mingi.”

Yunho gave a slow nod, lips twitching into a modest smile. “Yeah, a couple of shoots now. The Vogue one was the most recent.”

Hoshi’s eyebrows rose. “Lucky you. Those two are something else.”

Seonghwa gave Yunho a look over the rim of his glass, one that said, see? I told you so.

Yunho chuckled, settling in. “You could say I was warned.”

Hoshi blinked, intrigued. “Oh?”

Seonghwa smirked. “I gave him the rundown. After the Calvin Klein shoot, I figured I should. Told him that whatever they were doing… it wasn’t just harmless teasing.”

“And?” Hoshi’s eyes twinkled. “Did you believe him?”

“I didn’t want to,” Yunho admitted, a little sheepish. “But I learned quick. Y/N not subtle when she wants something, and Mingi lets her have it, no hesitation. They move like they’ve been in sync their whole lives.”

Hoshi gave a low whistle. “You’re not wrong.”

There was a beat of silence before Hoshi leaned forward again, elbows on the table, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Since we’re talking about it… You know Kim Mingyu, right?”

Yunho tilted his head. “The Calvin Klein guy?”

“The very one,” Hoshi nodded, swirling his drink. “Used to be their third.”

Yunho’s eyebrows shot up.

“Not their last one,” Seonghwa added, “but definitely the one that did the most damage.”

“What happened?” Yunho asked, now fully engaged.

“Mingyu had too much chemistry with Y/N,” Hoshi said with a shrug. “Real heat between them. It pushed Mingi past his breaking point.”

“Thing is,” Seonghwa added, “Mingi tried to act like it didn’t bother him. But it did. He can be possessive. Mingyu didn’t back off either, he thought he had just as much of a claim.”

Hoshi nodded. “And when that line blurred, it got ugly. Shoot schedules fell apart, brands had to rework deals. Mingi pulled strings to make sure they wouldn’t work together again.”

“So now Mingyu’s off limits,” Seonghwa said. “And after that… they’ve been more careful. They’ve messed around, sure, but no one’s lasted long.”

“And definitely no one’s gotten close to what Mingyu had,” Hoshi finished, watching Yunho closely. “Just a friendly heads up.”

Yunho exhaled slowly, the weight of their words settling in his chest. He appreciated the warning, but he already knew he was in deeper than he should be.

And yet… that didn’t make him want to back off.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The venue was a vision, gleaming marble floors, gold accented walls, soft lighting casting everyone in a champagne glow. A listers mingled with designers and models, laughter and clinking glasses floating over bass heavy lounge music. Photographers flanked the sides of the main entrance, flashes popping in rapid fire as the biggest names in fashion made their entrances.

Yunho stood near the far edge of the room, camera slung around his neck despite the open bar and glittering crowd. He was here officially for press content, just a few photos for the Vogue recap piece, but his eyes kept straying toward the entrance, anticipation brewing low in his chest.

He didn’t have to wait long.

The room shifted.

Heads turned. Conversations paused.

Y/N walked in wearing a crimson Balmain dress, sculpted and dangerous, with sharp shoulders, a dipped neckline, and a hem that stopped mid thigh to show off legs that made photographers practically stumble over each other. Her lips were painted to match, deep red and unapologetically bold. Her hair was pinned up with a few loose strands framing her face, effortlessly sultry.

Next to her, Mingi looked like sin wrapped in Diesel black, fitted jacket, mesh shirt beneath it just sheer enough to tease, matching pants, and his signature cool expression that made people stop and stare.

They were a vision together. Magnetic. Electric.

Yunho lifted his camera on instinct and took a shot. And another.

But the real moment, the one that landed deep in his gut, wasn’t the outfit or the pose. It was the way Y/N leaned into Mingi as they walked, the casual possessiveness of his hand resting just above her hip, the way she looked up at him and laughed at something he said, eyes soft, mouth easy.

Not for show. Not for the camera.

That was just them.

Yunho lowered the camera slowly. His pulse picked up, something sharp curling behind his ribs.

They were always beautiful in front of his lens.

But this? This was real.

And it was starting to feel dangerous.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The party was a living, breathing thing, opulent and thrumming with curated decadence. Everywhere Yunho looked, there were flashes of wealth and beauty, Paris Fashion Week at its peak. But despite the chaos, his thoughts were unusually quiet, narrowing in on a single point that lingered like static behind his ribs.

He kept thinking about what Seonghwa and Hoshi said.

Kim Mingyu.

Not their last third, but the one who left a mark. The one who crossed a line.

And yet, here he was. Standing alone near the floor to ceiling windows of the pre gala party, drink untouched in his hand, camera slung against his hip, when the air shifted again.

Mingi.

Head to toe black Diesel, cutting through the room like he owned it. He didn’t say anything right away, just came to stand beside Yunho, gaze casually sweeping the crowd before glancing sideways at him.

“She wants you,” Mingi said simply. Voice low, like he was stating a weather report. “Y/N. She’s been talking about you since we met.”

Yunho’s stomach tightened, but he kept his expression even. “You’re really okay with that?”

Mingi’s lips curved slightly. “It’s not about me. It’s about her. And I don’t let her go without what she wants.”

Yunho studied him, pulse quickening. Mingi didn’t seem nervous. Didn’t seem threatened. But Yunho wasn’t stupid. He remembered Hoshi’s tone. The weight in Seonghwa’s voice when they’d said, Mingyu didn’t back off. And Mingi doesn’t forget.

So Yunho asked, quiet, honest, almost like he needed to hear it aloud.

“And you won’t get jealous?”

Mingi’s eyes met his, darker now, the curve of his mouth not quite a smile. “I didn’t say that.”

There was something loaded in the way he said it. A warning, maybe. Or a dare?

He clapped Yunho on the shoulder once, firm but friendly, then slipped back into the crowd, back to the woman in the red Balmain dress, who was already looking at Yunho like she’d been waiting for him all night.

Yunho didn’t have time to recover before she was there.

Y/N.

All crimson silk and impossible curves, her Balmain dress hugging her like it was made for seduction. Her walk was slow, deliberate, heels clicking softly against the floor, eyes locked on Yunho like he was her next indulgence.

“Photographer,” She purred when she reached him, fingers lightly trailing up his forearm. “You clean up well.”

Yunho swallowed hard. “So do you.”

She smiled, sultry and knowing. “I know.”

Her hand didn’t leave him. Instead, it slid up to his shoulder, thumb brushing along the lapel of his jacket as she leaned in, breath warm against his neck. “Been thinking about you,” She whispered. “About your hands. About how focused you look when you’re shooting.” Her mouth hovered just at his ear. “Bet you’d look even better focused on me without a camera.”

Yunho exhaled slowly, fighting the heat crawling up his spine. “Y/N…”

She pulled back only slightly, enough for their eyes to meet. Her gaze was playful, challenging, but there was something real simmering under it. Something that dared him to lean in.

Across the room, Mingi watched.

One hand in his pocket, jaw sharp, his expression unreadable, except for the fire behind his eyes. He wasn’t moving. He didn’t have to. He was watching his girl flirt with another man, and instead of stepping in… he let it happen.

Not jealous.

Not yet.

But the tension in his shoulders said he was waiting. Watching. Measuring Yunho.

Seonghwa stepped up beside him, casually sipping from a slim glass of champagne. His eyes followed Mingi’s, landing on the way Y/N fingers were now dragging lightly down Yunho’s chest, her lips parted as she laughed at something only the two of them could hear.

“She’s being bold tonight,” Seonghwa murmured.

Mingi didn’t say anything.

Seonghwa’s gaze narrowed, just slightly. “You okay?”

Mingi’s jaw ticked, but his voice was steady. “She wants him.”

“And you’re not jealous?”

“I haven’t been given a reason to be yet.”

Seonghwa’s lips twitched like he almost smiled, but there was no humor in it. Just quiet warning. “You remember the last person she wanted this bad didn’t end well.”

The name didn’t need to be said.

Mingyu.

Mingi’s eyes flicked sideways for a moment, sharp and thoughtful, but he didn’t respond. Just kept his gaze locked on Yunho.

And still, he didn’t stop her.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Later in the night, the party was louder, looser. Glasses clinked, music pulsed, and laughter echoed through the vaulted ceilings. But Mingi wasn’t laughing. Not anymore.

Seonghwa’s words lingered like smoke in the back of his mind.

The last person she wanted this bad didn’t end well

Mingyu.

That name still left a sour taste in his mouth.

Mingi had never been jealous of many things, never needed to be. But Mingyu had been different. Too confident. Too casual with Y/N. Too bold in the way he made her laugh and groan in the same breath. The way he started crossing lines Mingi hadn’t given him permission to cross.

And now Yunho was in the picture. Different, yes. Calmer. Smarter. But maybe that made him more dangerous.

Because Y/N wanted him just as bad.

And Mingi could see the way Yunho was fighting it.

So when she slipped away to get another drink, Mingi followed.

He caught her in the hallway outside the private lounge, quiet, dimly lit, walls lined with vintage photographs. She didn’t even get a chance to ask where he’d been before he was pressing her back against the wall, large hands on her waist, mouth brushing over her jaw.

“Mingi” She gasped, but she was already pulling him closer, dress sliding against his chest like a challenge.

“I needed to touch you.” He murmured into her neck. “Right now. After the way you looked at him.”

Her lips parted, her pulse quick under his mouth. “You weren’t jealous.”

“I wasn’t.” He kissed her. Slow and deep. “Then Seonghwa brought up Mingyu.”

Y/N laughed softly, wickedly. “Baby,” she whispered, biting his lower lip between her teeth. “Yunho’s not Mingyu.”

“I know.” His hands slipped under the hem of her dress, warm and firm. “But I still need you.”

She didn’t stop him. She never did.

His mouth found hers again, hungrier this time. She moaned into the kiss as he pressed her harder against the wall, his thigh slotting between hers, her dress riding higher…..

The door creaked open.

Yunho froze in the doorway.

Eyes wide. Breath caught.

He hadn’t meant to find them. He’d been looking for Seonghwa, or maybe a place to breathe, to shake off the feel of her touch still lingering on his skin.

But now he couldn’t look away.

Mingi’s mouth was on her throat. Her leg wrapped around his hip. Her lipstick smudged and her eyes half lidded, until they snapped open and met Yunho’s.

She didn’t look embarrassed.

She looked amused.

And worse… inviting.

Yunho blinked once, hard, like it might reset what he was seeing.

It didn’t.

Mingi’s hands were still gripping Y/N thighs, her leg still hooked around him, the two of them caught in a moment that felt too intimate, too raw, too private.

Yunho’s breath hitched, and he immediately stepped back, gaze darting to the floor. “Shit… I didn’t mean to… I was just looking for… sorry.” His voice was low, rushed, like he was fumbling for the doorknob with his words.

He turned.

But before he could make it two steps, her voice stopped him.

“Yunho.”

He froze.

Her tone wasn’t surprised or shy, it was laced with heat, curiosity. A tease, dressed up in velvet. He turned slightly, unsure if he was imagining the smirk in her voice or the glint in her eyes.

Y/N had gently slipped out of Mingi’s grasp, straightening her dress like it hadn’t just been bunched around her waist, smoothing her hair with a flick of her fingers. Mingi stayed where he was, watching her, his breathing slow and controlled, like he was waiting to see what she’d do.

She stepped toward Yunho, heels quiet on the dark wood floor.

“You’re not intruding.” She said, soft and coaxing, brushing an invisible wrinkle off his chest. “We were just… killing time.”

Yunho’s eyes met hers. “Y/N…”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, then dragged up again. “You can stay. If you want.”

He swallowed hard. “Mingi?”

“I said,” She whispered, inching closer, “whatever I want, Mingi gives me.”

And behind her, Mingi hadn’t moved, but the look in his eyes said he heard her. That he meant it.

That if Yunho said yes, he wouldn’t stop it.

Yunho’s resolve was slipping.

Every breath he took was filled with her perfume, jasmine and heat and something else that only belonged to her. Y/N fingers danced along the edge of his collar, slow and deliberate, and her lips were so close he could feel the warmth of them. Her body fit perfectly in the space between him and the wall. And behind her, Mingi’s silence was more dangerous than any words, like he was waiting for Yunho to make a move. Giving permission without ever speaking it aloud.

Yunho’s hand lifted, fingers hovering just shy of her waist.

Almost.

Just as he was about to fall….

“Y/N!”

Seonghwa’s voice rang through the corridor, sharp and familiar.

Y/N froze, her eyes flicking toward the hallway entrance just as Seonghwa came into view, phone in hand and a slight roll to his step like he’d been hurrying.

He stopped short when he saw the three of them. His brows lifted, but otherwise, he didn’t react. He’d seen too much over the years to be easily surprised.

Still, his eyes settled squarely on her.

“Olivier Rousteing is looking for you,” he said calmly. “Something about last minute fittings. He wants you backstage ten minutes ago.”

Y/N blinked, almost pouting. “Now?”

“Yes. Now. You’re closing his show, remember?”

She let out a long, theatrical sigh, then turned back to Yunho, her fingers sliding down his chest as she stepped away. “Guess I’ll have to make you fall for me another time.”

Yunho exhaled like he hadn’t realized he was holding his breath.

She winked as she passed Seonghwa, swaying like sin in that red Balmain dress, and disappeared around the corner.

Mingi followed with a lingering glance at Yunho, one that held no malice… just a warning.

And then Yunho was alone with Seonghwa, pulse still racing, lips slightly parted.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “So… how close were you to making a mistake?”

Yunho didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The Diesel show was a fever dream of black leather, chains, and unapologetic confidence. The bass of the music thrummed through the venue like a pulse, strobes flashing over sharp silhouettes as model after model claimed the runway like a battlefield.

Yunho stood just behind the press line, his camera practically an extension of him. But he wasn’t looking through the lens as much as he should’ve been. His eyes kept drifting.

First to Mingi, storming down the runway in head to toe Diesel, tailored black pants hanging low on his hips, skin visible beneath a half unbuttoned shirt, gaze sharp and locked dead ahead. A commanding presence. A walking brand fantasy.

Then to Y/N, front row with Seonghwa, legs crossed beneath her sleek coat, blood red lips slightly parted as she watched Mingi walk like he owned the world.

And Yunho? He couldn’t help but watch her.

Even in a room full of flashing lights and impossibly beautiful people, she was the one that made time slow. As if the air bent a little differently around her.

Once Mingi’s set was done and he disappeared behind the curtains, the rest of the show continued, but Y/N didn’t stay seated. She leaned over to whisper something to Seonghwa, then rose from her seat with effortless grace.

Yunho barely caught her slipping through the side of the stage, and suddenly, she was there again.

Just the two of them.

Backstage, tucked away from the chaos, the sounds of the show muffled behind the heavy curtains. The lighting here was softer, less performance, more intimacy.

“You looked distracted,” her tone was light, teasing, amused. “Didn’t even raise your camera for half of Mingi’s walk.”

Yunho swallowed, shifting slightly. “I was… watching.”

She stepped closer, eyes scanning his face like she could see every thought he hadn’t said out loud. Her fingertips brushed the strap of his camera, a lazy drag that made him still.

“You always watch like that?” she asked, eyes flicking to his lips. “Or just when it’s me?”

He hesitated.

That was enough.

Y/N took the space between them with a slow, confident step forward, fingers rising to gently fix the collar of his jacket, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. Her hand lingered. So did her eyes.

“You could’ve kissed me the other night,” she said, voice soft. “You wanted to.”

His breath hitched.

“I still want to.” He admitted.

She smiled like she already knew.

But just as he started to lean into her warmth, the scent of her skin clouding his head, he cleared his throat, his conscience slipping in like a shadow.

“I heard… about Mingyu.” He said carefully.

That name. It hung between them like a curtain abruptly pulled shut.

Y/N fingers stopped. She didn’t step back, but the temperature shifted.

“And?”

“I just..” Yunho held her gaze. “If that ended badly… maybe I’m not the smartest choice.”

A pause.

Then her hand slid up his chest, slow and deliberate, resting over his heart.

“You’re not him,” she remarked simply. “Don’t bring him up around Mingi.”

Yunho nodded once.

And when she stepped back this time, there was still heat in her gaze, but also a warning.

One he’d do well to remember.

She walked away from Yunho like nothing had happened.

Back straight, head high, heels sharp against the polished concrete floor. Her blood red lips stayed untouched, but her heart was pounding. Not because she’d crossed a line, but because he hadn’t stepped back.

Not really.

Mingi found her just behind the dressing area, his shirt still unbuttoned from the runway, his skin warm and flushed from the lights and adrenaline. He looked at her the way he always did, like she was his, and always would be.

“Where’d you sneak off to?” He asked, voice low, gaze sweeping her like he already knew the answer.

She tilted her head and smiled. “Had to find the photographer.”

His jaw flexed. Not in anger, but in anticipation.

“Did he say yes?”

“I think,” she started brushing her fingers down his bare chest, “he’s thinking about it.”

Mingi let out a low chuckle, but there was something darker behind it.

“Good,” he murmured, catching her wrist and tugging her just a little closer, “because I’ve been thinking about you all night.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Yunho stayed where she’d left him.

Shoulders against the wall, head tilted back, eyes closed for a beat too long. Her perfume clung to his skin like heat. His heart wouldn’t slow down, and his hands, steady as hell behind a camera, were slightly trembling.

She’d touched him again.

She wanted him again.

And she’d told him not to talk about Mingyu, her voice soft, but her eyes sharp enough to slice through every rational thought he was trying to cling to.

He’d thought Seonghwa and Hoshi were being dramatic, warning him off like he was some clueless rookie about to get eaten alive.

But now?

He could see it.

He could see how someone could get attached. Obsessed. Lost.

And that someone… could easily be him.

He pushed off the wall with a heavy sigh, trying to blink the heat from his vision, trying to remember that he was here for work. That this was fashion week. That he was already in too deep.

But then he thought of her lips, just inches from his, and how Mingi hadn’t even needed to be in the room for Yunho to feel owned.

He was already in it.

The real question was… how long before he stopped trying to climb out?

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The hotel suite was dimly lit, drenched in the soft amber glow of Paris night. Floor to ceiling windows framed the city skyline like a painting, but neither Y/N nor Mingi were looking outside.

Their focus was each other.

Y/N coat hit the floor first, the red silk of her Balmain dress clinging to her curves like it had been made just for her. Mingi’s fingers found the zipper immediately, dragging it down slowly, reverently, like every inch of her skin was something sacred he’d worshipped a thousand times and still couldn’t get enough of.

“You shouldn’t have gone after him like that,” he muttered, lips grazing her throat as the dress slipped from her shoulders.

Y/N smirked, fingers toying with the waistband of his black slacks. “Jealous?”

He didn’t answer. Not with words.

He kissed her like it was punishment and worship all at once, pressing her back into the plush bedding, hands everywhere, touch demanding but never cruel. Possessive, yes. But not insecure. He knew she was his.

Still, he had to remind her.

And in the room next door, through the wall, Yunho couldn’t breathe.

His camera bag was still on the floor where he dropped it. His shirt half buttoned from changing when he heard it, soft laughter, the dull thud of something hitting the wall. Then Y/N voice. Low, breathless. Intimate.

Then Mingi’s.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He told himself to get up, turn on the TV, distract himself. But he didn’t.

He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, jaw clenched tight as the sounds filtered through the wall, quiet at first, then sharper. Moans swallowed by kisses. The creak of the bed. A laugh from her that made his stomach twist.

You could’ve kissed me the other night

He wanted to tell himself this was fine. That they were a couple. That he knew what he was getting into.

But knowing it and hearing it, feeling it, were two entirely different things.

When her voice hit just the right pitch, a soft, broken whisper of Mingi’s name that could’ve been his if he wasn’t so goddamn careful… Yunho had to get up. Had to put distance between himself and that wall or he was going to go insane.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Mingi was already deep inside her. Sweat slicked down his back, muscles flexing as his hips snapped forward again and again, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing off the walls in the hotel room, them having no idea that Yunho was right next door, hearing every dirty sound, their moans like a rhythm only they knew.

Y/N hands were clenched in the sheets, her back arching as he drove into her harder, deeper, rougher than he had all night.

But it still wasn’t enough.

“More,” She gasped, voice wrecked and eyes wild, the word falling from her lips like a dare. “Mingi… fuck… give me more.”

He stilled for one agonizing beat.

Then he growled.

Not a word. A growl. A sound torn from his chest that rumbled through her spine and made her clench around him in anticipation. His hands grabbed her hips, tight, possessive, fingers digging in like he was marking her from the inside and out.

“You think I’m not giving you enough?” He muttered, voice low, dangerous, hot against her ear. “You wanna tell me how to fuck you now?”

She whimpered, but didn’t back down. “I can take it.”

He laughed, dark, amused, breathless.

“Oh, baby,” he hissed, dragging out slow, brutal thrusts now that made her legs tremble. “I know you can.”

And he started pounding into her like he meant to ruin her. Like he meant to leave her so full and sore that no one would ever forget who she belonged to, not even her.

Her cries turned into moans, broken, needy things as he hit a spot that made her legs lock around his waist. Her nails raked down his back, and it only made him go harder, one hand shifting up to wrap lightly around her throat as he looked down at her, sweaty, flushed, completely wrecked under him.

“Look at you,” he growled, thumb stroking over her chin possessively. “Fucking mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped, eyes rolling back as he angled his hips just right again. “Mingi…I’m yours”

“Damn right you are.” His grip on her tightened just a little, just enough to make her breath hitch. “No one else has ever fucked you this good. No one else makes you beg like this.”

Her back arched, body trembling on the edge, and he could feel it, the way her walls pulsed around him, the way her legs quivered.

“Come,” he ordered, voice sharp, raw. “Now.”

And she did. Clenching around him so hard he swore, burying his face against her neck as she shattered beneath him.

Y/N was still trembling beneath him, her body twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm when he pulled out with a hiss, not giving her even a second to breathe.

“Up.” He growled.

Before she could even process it, Mingi had flipped her over onto her stomach, hauling her hips up and sliding right back inside her with a brutal thrust that knocked the air out of her lungs. She cried out, legs spreading wider for him instinctively, back arching as he gripped her waist tight.

But then, oh, then, he leaned down, his chest flush against her back, and dragged her upright. One strong arm wrapped across her belly, the other snaked up, hand sliding around her throat again, not to squeeze, not yet. Just to hold her still. To own her.

He pressed his lips to the shell of her ear, his voice low, cruel, intoxicating.

“Say it.”

She gasped, head falling back against his shoulder, body pinned perfectly against his.

“Say what?”

His grip tightened just enough to make her pulse stutter beneath his fingers.

“Say his name.”

Her entire body went still. Mingi grinned against her cheek, hips rolling into her slow and deep, every thrust angled to destroy her from the inside out.

“Yunho,” He murmured darkly. “Your favorite photographer. You’ve been giving him more attention than me.”

Her breath caught.

“Mingi…”

“I’m not mad,” he whispered. “Not even jealous. But I like the way his name sounds coming from you.”

He slammed into her again, rough and possessive, and her cry echoed through the room.

Her eyes fluttered, the mixture of desire for the photographer and lust driving her closer to the edge than she thought possible.

“Yu… yu…”

“Say it,” he growled, hand tightening, not enough to hurt, but just enough to command.

“YUNHO” His name left her in a gasped scream.

And Mingi snapped.

He fucked her harder, deeper, chasing the image of it, her moaning Yunho’s name while completely owned by him. The power of it, the sheer filth of it had him groaning against her shoulder, lost in the madness of it.

“You think he could fuck you like this?” He snarled, thrusts merciless. “You think Yunho could ruin you like I do?”

She couldn’t speak. She was gone, wrecked.

“I’ll make sure he knows,” Mingi growled, possessive to the bone. “I’ll leave you dripping with me… so when he finally breaks and finally fucks you, he’ll feel every last drop of me still inside you.”

She came again, hard. So hard it nearly blacked her out, his name sobbed into the sheets even as hers echoed off the walls.

And Mingi wasn’t far behind.

He could feel the tension building in his spine, the tight coil of pleasure wound so sharp it hurt. But just before he tipped over the edge, he pulled out, hissing through his teeth like it physically pained him not to finish.

“Turn around,” he panted, voice rough with restraint. “Ride me. Now.”

But Y/N didn’t move.

She twisted in his grasp, still breathless, still flushed, but her eyes, oh, her eyes were gleaming. Defiant. Dominant.

“No,” she said, slow and sultry, pushing him back onto the mattress instead. “You lay down.”

Mingi blinked once and then grinned, doing exactly what she said.

He dropped back, chest rising and falling as she crawled over him, straddling his hips with that wicked look in her eyes, her thighs still trembling and slick as she lined herself up and sank down on him all at once.

They both moaned, loud, raw, desperate.

“Shit,” he gasped, hands flying to her hips but she slapped them away.

“No touching,” she whispered, grinding down into his lap. “You wanted a show? Then watch.”

And fuck, he did.

He watched as she rode him slow, rolling her hips in tight circles, milking every inch of him like it was her right. Her hands dragged up his chest, nails scraping, back arched as she bounced, sweat dripping between her breasts. Mingi’s jaw clenched, veins in his neck straining.

She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest.

“You like that?” she purred, breath hot against his mouth. “You like me using you like this?” He groaned, nodding frantically. “Yes…. fuck, yes. You feel so good… don’t stop, don’t…. fuck”

She slammed her hips down harder, riding him fast now, chasing her own release as much as his. Her head tilted back, mouth parting in a broken moan. “Say it.”

Mingi was almost complete mess. “Say what?” He was so close. Y/N reached up, hand wrapping around his throat just like he did her own. “Say… his name.”

Fuck! Mingi said his name in a broken growl as she pulled all the way off him, his tip just poking at her entrance. “Yunho…” Then she slammed back down on him.

“I’m gonna…. Mingi…. fuck… come with me,” she gasped, riding him rougher, faster. “Come inside me, come with me….now….”

He couldn’t hold back.

With a choked cry of her name, Mingi bucked up into her, his hands finally grabbing her hips as he thrust into her from beneath, coming hard, hot, and deep inside her just as she shattered around him. Her whole body trembled above him, legs locking tight, head dropping forward as she pulsed around him, dragging him through the kind of orgasm that left him wrecked.

They were still catching their breath, bodies slick and tangled, when Y/N slowly pulled off him, making Mingi groan from the sudden emptiness.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, one arm flung over his eyes. “You’re gonna kill me.”

But she wasn’t done.

She slid down the bed between his legs, her fingers wrapping around his still sensitive length, already hardening again, because his body knew hers like an addiction.

Mingi’s breath hitched.

“Baby, what’re you….”

“Shhh,” she cooed, stroking him slow. “You can take it.”

His hips twitched, muscles already taut again. She moved her hand with teasing purpose, slick, warm, her thumb swiping over the head as she watched him unravel with every stroke.

“Y/N… fuck, I’m….” he gasped, thighs tensing.

“Come for me,” she whispered, hot breath ghosting over him. “Come just from this.”

And he did. With a broken moan, Mingi’s back arched, his body jerking as thick ropes spilled over her hand. He was still groaning when her other hand pushed against his chest, and she was crawling over him again.

“Wait…wait….” But she didn’t wait. She lined herself up with him, still twitching, still throbbing in her grip, and sank down on him with a breathless sigh.

Mingi shouted.

“Holy fuck… baby… I just came!”

“I know,” she purred, riding him slow and deep, her hands on his chest as she started to roll her hips again. “You can still take it.”

He was wide, eyed, panting, a little delirious as she used him again, his dick still oversensitive, her body squeezing around him like she owned him.

“Too much?” she asked sweetly, biting her bottom lip as she bounced just a little harder.

His fingers curled into the sheets.

“Yes… no… fuck, I don’t know”

She leaned down, lips brushing his ear. “You said you wanted Yunho to fill you still dripping inside me.” She wqs still grinding on him slowly, her breath catching every time his dick twitched inside her. Her body was greedy, hungry, rolling her hips with teasing, rhythmic control that had Mingi’s thighs trembling again.

But she should’ve known better.

Because he warned her.

He growled low in his chest, hands tightening around her hips, and before she could blink, he snatched her wrists, yanking them behind her back in one quick, dominating motion.

She gasped, body jolting forward, but he was already sitting up, wrapping one arm around her waist, the other holding her wrists tight behind her. He pulled her flush against his chest, caging her in with raw, unrelenting strength.

“You think you get to fuck me like that,” he snarled into her ear, “tease me with him and walk away on your own two legs?”

Her body arched helplessly, back bowing into him, her nails digging into her own palms. “Mingi..”

“No. You wanted to ride me? You wanted to tease me? Now you take it.”

And he started pounding into her, deep, hard, merciless thrusts that had her moaning uncontrollably, her legs locked around his waist as he used her exactly how he needed. Her arms were still pinned, her body fully his to manipulate, and the angle he was hitting now was criminal.

“Look at you,” he growled, biting down against her shoulder. “So fucking drunk on my dick. You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think. Her head dropped against his shoulder, mouth open in a silent scream as he drove her straight to the edge again.

“Come on,” he panted against her neck. “Come with me. I wanna feel you squeeze the fuck out of me. You’re gonna come so hard it’ll push me out.”

And that was it.

Y/N shattered in his arms, her walls clenching tight, her whole body convulsing around him as she cried out his name. Mingi’s grip turned bruising, thrusts erratic, deeper than before, until he let out a ragged, desperate moan and buried himself inside her, his entire body locking up as he came hard, spilling into her in deep, pulsing waves.

They froze there, tangled together, breathless and wrecked, his chest heaving against her back, his dick twitching inside her, her legs still trembling as they both came down from the high.

He finally let go of her wrists, his hands smoothing over her hips and stomach as he kissed the side of her neck.

“That’s what you get,” he murmured, voice ragged and smug.

Y/N slumped against him, completely spent.

“I think I broke you,” he added, a little too proud.

She didn’t answer.

She just groaned.

But he felt the way her hips moved again. Just a little.

And it was his turn to groan.

“You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Insatiable.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The grand hall glittered like something out of a fever dream, crystal chandeliers above, gold accented pillars framing the sleek runway that cut through the room like a line of fire. A sea of editors, celebrities, influencers, and photographers filled the space with buzzing conversation and designer perfumes.

Yunho stood near the media pit, camera raised, body tense.

He hadn’t seen Y/N or Mingi all day.

But he’d heard them last night.

He hadn’t meant to. Had barely meant to listen. But it had happened, and now, the sound of her voice, the gasps, the laughter, the raw edge of Mingi’s groan, hearing Y/N scream his name not Mingi’s, it all haunted him.

And now he was here, waiting to capture Y/N in Balmain’s latest masterpiece like he hadn’t spent the previous night with her name tangled in his throat and his hand clenched into the sheets.

He shifted, focusing the lens.

“Hey, lover boy.”

A low voice behind him made his pulse jump.

Yunho didn’t even have to turn around.

Mingi.

He wasn’t in the front row with Seonghwa or the brand executives, no, he was lingering behind Yunho, clearly avoiding the spotlight, eyes scanning the crowd like he was there for something more dangerous than fashion.

Or someone.

“Didn’t expect to see you up and moving so early,” Mingi murmured, stepping in a little closer. His voice was casual, but his tone wasn’t. “You look tired.”

Yunho kept his camera up. “Didn’t sleep much.”

“Shame. We slept great.”

Yunho clenched his jaw, said nothing. Did they know his room was next to theirs?

His attention was pulled back to the runway when the music shifted and the light lit it up.

And Y/N stepped out.

Yunho’s breath caught. The crowd murmured with admiration.

She was a vision, clad in a structured, deep cut red Balmain mini dress with long sleeves and sharp shoulders, cinched at the waist. Her hair was sleek, parted down the middle. Lips bold and crimson. Legs endless beneath the fabric, heels deadly.

She walked like she knew the world would stop for her. Because it always did.

She didn’t even look at Yunho.

But he saw the hint of a smirk when she passed.

“Stunning, huh?” Mingi murmured behind him, watching the exact moment Yunho’s fingers twitched on the camera again.

“She’s… something,” Yunho muttered, barely able to focus through the viewfinder.

Mingi leaned in just slightly, voice low and laced with amusement. “You always shoot with your jaw that tight? Or is that a Y/N problem?”

Yunho didn’t answer.

But the heat in his chest said more than words ever could.

Yunho’s camera clicked again, shutter sharp, crisp, too many shots taken too fast. His pulse was hammering, eyes following the smooth arc of Y/N stride like gravity itself had shifted to center on her.

From behind, a breath touched his neck.

Warm. Deliberate.

Mingi stepped forward, closer. Closer than necessary. Close enough Yunho could feel the brush of his chest against his back, could count the beats in the silence.

“You watch her like I do,” Mingi murmured, voice silk and smoke in his ear.

Yunho froze.

His hands didn’t move, but the breath left him in a shallow rush.

Because it was true.

And Mingi knew it.

That same hushed worship in Yunho’s gaze, the magnetic pull he tried to deny every time she passed him, Mingi had seen it. Felt it. The way Yunho’s eyes always, always, found her first. The way his jaw clenched like every inch of her was a temptation he wasn’t allowed to touch.

Yunho swallowed hard, lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t remember how.

Mingi’s smile, barely there, grew against the edge of Yunho’s jawline. Not cocky. Not mocking. Just quiet understanding.

“I don’t blame you,” he added softly. “But if you want her…” His hand ghosted just beside Yunho’s hip, never touching, but near enough to feel the warning behind the heat. “You better be ready.”

Then he stepped back, vanishing into the shadows of the stage wings just as Y/N reached the end of the runway, pausing in a perfect pose, her red dress catching the light like flame.

Yunho took the shot.

But his hands were shaking.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

permanent tag list: @straycat420 @autieofthevalley @dejatiny @hannahlilibet411 @xh01bri @jintastic-yuyu @maddycline @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @wooyoungsbrat @lucid-galaxys-world @ecriggs1990 @straytiny127 @sannies-tiddies @hannahstacos @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets @love--in-stayville @hartsablaze @remi-young

tag list: @juicyjaxxy @prchiquita8 @mrsminseochoi

#yunho #jeong yunho #yunho smut #mingi #song mingi #mingi smut #yungi x reader #yungi #yungi smut #yunho x y/n #yunho x reader #mingi x y/n #mingi x reader #ateez #ateez fic #ateez fanfic

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mixolya · 27 days ago

Note

lyaaa hi may i request exes to lovers with rin where reader is a news reporter is covering rin's match? Like its the first time they've seen eo again after many years if u know what i mean 😊😊 THWNK U

ᓚᘏᗢ — rin itoshi: five years and a whistle !

synopsis: five years ago, rin itoshi walked out of your life. now you're standing at the edge of the pitch, mic in hand, trying not to fall apart as his name rings through the stadium like a memory you can't shake.

rin itoshi x reader ⭑ second chance / exes to lovers (?) / slowburn + likes & reblogs are appreciated <3

note: hi anon thank u for ur req!! this was so fun to write aaaa dear anons i love ur creativity!!!!

the stadium is electric, all floodlights and roaring fans. it should be just another night in your career. you've interviewed plenty of champions. reported live during title wins, crushing defeats and trade dramas. nothing should faze you. but your fingers still shake around the mic as the clock winds down, and rin itoshi's name chants through the crowd like a spell.

five years.

five years since you last saw him. five years since you were stupidly, hopelessly in love with the boy who loved football more.

five years since he left without a real goodbye. no call, no explanation, just a number disconnected and a silence that felt like punishment.

and now he's here. his hair is longer now, falling messily around his face. his jaw is sharper, body leaner, but his eyes are still the same. stormy and steady and yours, once.

the stadium is still loud, still humming from the last-minute goal that sealed the win. cameras flash, reporters scramble and rin is standing in front of you like a ghost wearing cleats, the weight of five years balanced on your microphone.

you clear your throat, mic in hand. red light blinking. you're live. you square your shoulders.

"rin itoshi, congratulations on the win tonight. incredible finish to a tough match. walk us through the final goal?"

"it was instinct," he says simply, and the sound of his voice makes your stomach clench. "saw the gap, took the shot."

his answer is and clipped and straight to the point. just like the text he never sent. you smile politely, pretending it doesn't sting. "clearly paid off," you reply. "that kind of precision under pressure... was it something you've been training for specifically?"

a pause.

"we've been working on quick transitions. timing and reading defenders."

"we," you echo, as neutrally as you can. "you mean the national squad? or the club?"

he looks at you again. "both."

you keep going, professional smile glued on. "there's been a lot of talk about your return after the last injury. a lot of people were wondering if you'd slow down, maybe play safer. any thoughts on that?"

"no."

"the corner of your mouth twitches. "that's all?"

"i'm not here to play safe," he says, eyes steady. "that's not how you win."

you nod. "well, you certainly reminded the crowd of that. a lot of eyes are on you this season, especially after last year's headlines. some say you're colder on the pitch than ever."

"i don't play to be liked," he replies without missing a beat. "i play to win." you know. you know because he told you so many times and your grip tightens on the mic. "and off the pitch?"

that gets him. the slightest flicker in his eyes. "off the pitch," he says carefully, "i still don't care what people think."

you almost scoff, but instead you nod again. "unsurprising."

the tension thickens between you, camera still rolling. everyone watching sees just a reporter doing her job. no one sees the five years behind it. you adjust the mic. almost done.

"last question," you say. "now that you're back in full form, what's next to you?"

he doesn't look at the camera. he looks at you. "closure."

your heart jumps, but your face doesn't move. you force a smile. "right, well, thank you for your time, itoshi. congratulations on your win again."

the red light on the camera blinks off. done. you don't wait for the crew. you mutter something about meeting a friend and walk off the field, fast. you make it halfway down the tunnel when..

"wait."

you freeze.

"can you- can you just stop for a second?" ok.

you turn slowly. he's jogging after you, jersey sticking to his chest, dark hair a mess and his eyes unreadable.

"you need something, itoshi?" you ask, voice sharper than you mean it to be. he winces. "you never called me that."

"you never left either," you snap. "so i guess we're both doing new things."

a beat. the hum of the stadium is distant now and it's just the two of you. the camera's off, you're not hiding behind the mic anymore.

"i didn't know you'd be here," he says.

"and if you had?"

"i don't know," he admits. "maybe i wouldn't have scored."

you almost laugh. "funny."

"i'm serious."

"so am i," your voice softens. "you hurt me, rin."

"i know."

five years of silence sits between you so loud and bitter and heavy.

"i didn't know how to say goodbye," he murmurs.

"then don't pretend now like it ever meant something."

he's quiet. you take a step back. "i have to go."

but then..

"i'm sorry," he says quietly. and you stop again.

"i'm sorry," he says again. "for disappearing. for being a coward. for not staying when i should've."

you look at him and for the first time, you think maybe he means it.

"closure, huh?" you whisper.

his lips twitch. "maybe not yet," he says. "but.. can we try?"

#mixolya!#itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin imagines #itoshi rin fluff #bllk imagines #rin itoshi imagines #bllk x reader #rin itoshi fluff #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #bllk

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maikissed · 7 months ago

Text

you're why I'm staying

jude bellingham x reader part two of the previous story: the day I saw your eyes, I stayed LINK

warnings: A LOT of smut, it exhausted me lol

note: I think there will be a part 3 because I want to make some drama...

There was a drunk guy that appeared out of nowhere while you tried to push your way through the crowd on your way out. For a second you though it was Noah, because the posture of your space invader matched his very well, and to add to that, he grabbed your forearm to bring your attention to him. It was not Noah.

“Hi” the man smiled rakishly, but there was nothing charming about that, it was off “Leaving so soon?” he gazed down to the coat you were holding in your other hand “I was hoping for a dance with you, please don’t tell me I’m late”

You begun to feel uncomfortable, but kept your face straight and rather friendly to keep this situation casual.

“Unfortunately I am leaving, so if you’ll excuse me” you graced him a light smile, wondering why the hell he kept on holding onto your arm.

“Come on, one simple dance” he pressed, completely blocking your way.

Now it got tense.

“Get your hand off” you shot, visibly annoyed with his disrespectful attitude.

“There’s no point in being so difficult” his answer agitated you, you took a big breath in, ready to start a mayhem.

“Is everything alright?” a familiar accent reached your ears and you sighed in relief once realizing you might have been saved by Jude in this peculiar situation “Do you know him?” he directed his question to you, before quickly gazing down at the man’s hand still placed on your arm.

“No, I don’t” you spat, snatching your hand from his tight grip. Finally.

“Then why the fuck do think you can put your dirty hands on a woman like that?” Jude’s voice collected and steady while he turned to him, the look on his face very much serious. This looked interesting.

The guy snorted, a weird expression contorted his face while he looked at Jude. Something between hurt pride and a dumb realization. Maybe because he did recognize the face in front of him, or maybe it was the bitter taste of being interrupted and put down.

“Get the fuck outta here” the words harsh and final and you watched as the guy turn away without any last look your way.

You were grateful.

“Thank you” you uttered, feeling desperate for some fresh air.

He followed you out, as it turned out, and you wondered if he was trying to catch up with you, which is why he appeared in such a crucial moment just before, or was he simply leaving to call it a night as well. Without Rose.

“I’ll get you a cab” he proposed and you halted, ready to oppose, walk away as quickly as possible to hide yourself from all the strange confusion you felt “Forgive me if I’ve done something that offended you” and you were silenced when you took in his words.

There was uncommonly many taxicabs and ubers driving around, unlike in others parts of the city. One of the drivers pulled in a second after he waved his hand to call him in. Jude opened the door and awaited for your move.

“It’s alright, I’ll take the tube” why were you trying so hard to stand up to him since he was kind enough to make sure you’ll get home in a quicker and safer way?

“Don’t like the idea” he shook his head, still waiting patiently, not trying to persuade you or impose you a choice, rather standing there with an impression on his face that told you that he knew you would at last enter the cab “Please?”

And you folded, not wanting to bicker with him in front of this club. What surprised you next was the fact that he circled the car and got in as well. So he was being a true gentleman now, making sure for you to get back home without any other critical encounters with strange men trying to lure you, or maybe you just got involved into some kind of game with him, that he has planned very much precisely. You did not dare to ask about others and about Rose. Out of fear and abashment, or maybe it was a worry that you would ruin something that was clearly reserved for the both of you. Perhaps you wanted something and perhaps he wanted it too. Were you a bad person? Were you both? Or maybe it was nothing but pure, and maybe he was in fact being a gentleman.

He looked your way once he got comfortable and you let out a laugh.

“Is it your mission tonight to be my knight in shining armour?” you asked before the driver interrupted you to ask for the destination.

Jude smiled at your question, turning to look outside the window for a moment.

“Is it bothering you?” he murmured “Just say a word and I’ll leave”

That was the last thing you wanted, although you feared the consequences of every other minute spent in his presence. That’s why you ran off the club, that’s why you did not want to take the cab. You were not sure of his intentions, you couldn’t even define your own. This tiny cab, you, him and the taxi driver that appeared to be an obstacle for you somehow. What was so significant that made you so drawn to him? You started to hate the universe to put you in such position.

You said nothing, turning the other way with a little smile on your face, remembering the feeling of his hands roaming the curves of your body, his chest pressed against your back, breathing on your ear and neck.

The road was not long, after a few minutes the driver took a turn to the street where you lived. And of course Jude was the first to step out, walking to your door to open it for you. You almost laughed again when he extended his hand to help you get out. He was an extraordinary specimen. You took his hand, stood up, looked once again closely into his heavenly eyes and uttered out a question that startled you in place.

“Do you want to come in?”

Oh, for fuck sake. The most obvious and open invitation to have sex. What on earth happened to no casual hook-ups? No sex with men you barely known? All it took was to meet a handsome, charming and charismatic boy with the prettiest, darkest eyes that had the capacity to tie you in place and suck out all of your common sense just like that. You were a traitor, he was not yours to have. But you wanted him, so, so bad. To the point of losing sanity. And it was a petrifying feeling.

“I don’t want to interrupt your night any further” he simply stated.

You begun to conclude that the question was very much improper and it was the moment when he cuts you short with rejection. But you spotted a familiar daring smirk on his face and you blushed furiously. Fucker.

You realized he was still holding your hand.

“Oh, but please do” a glint in his eyes at your declaration, barely noticeable, but you saw it.

It was midnight, your steps audible while you strode through the corridors of the apartment building. You started to search for your keys. Nervousness kicking in, because you were not alone and you had no fucking idea how do one play out this situation. What do you do with a boy once you invite him into your house in the middle of the night? You offer him a tea? Drop your dress to the floor as soon as you cross the threshold? And to add to that, you haven’t had sex for almost a year now. You felt skittish as a deer, not like a confident and seductive woman he most likely surrounded himself with.

“Do you want something to drink?” was the first thing that left your mouth after you entered inside.

So the tea option it is. You stood in place for a minute, waiting for his answer or any reaction, but the look on his face while he scanned your whole body, up and down, scared you off, and you quickly stormed off in the direction of the kitchen. Coward. Why were you wasting his time?

He followed you, you could hear. Seemed you did not care anymore for his answer, you just put the kettle on. Trying to keep busy. When you turned around quickly, with two cups in your hands, you unexpectedly collided with his chest, you did not hear him sneak this close. Gasping, you almost dropped the porcelain. He was even taller now after you took off your shoes.

“Have you ever done this before?” he murmured lowly and it took you by surprise how his voice changed and dropped few octaves lower as he spoke now.

“Done what?” you asked timidly.

He reached with his hands to carefully took the cups from your own, placing them on the counter next to you. He did not want the tea, you guessed.

“Invited a man you only met couple of hours ago to your home” his gaze soft but purposeful when he looked down at you.

“No” you answered honestly, wondering how he found it.

He smiled at you then, something in form of delight flashing through his expression. Oh, he liked that answer. Weren’t you a sweet affair? He’s got you where he wanted.

“Then why’d you do it?”

Should you be honest?

“I don’t know” you frowned lightly. What a great fucking answer “Why’d you come?” you asked, still standing close, revelling in his scent that surrounded you, there was something else except the cologne he was wearing “Shouldn’t you be somewhere else now?” you risked it with a shaky breath.

“Were do you think I should be?” he was challenging you.

A moment of silence.

“With Rose” something clutched your insides “She’s more to your taste”

He smirked at you then.

“What’s my taste, y/n?”

It was your time to act amused, as you snickered and looked to your side to hide the bewilderment you were feeling. He was not having it, taking your jaw in his fingers to make you look back at him.

“Is that a serious question?”

“Yes, very much so. Because I’m under the impression that you’ve made some presumptions about me”

You tried to shy from the intensity of his eyes. You looked at his lips, bad decision.

“So?”

You grew annoyed, he was poking you. Pushing you to prove your words.

“Gorgeous face, stunning, light hair, model, long legs, sweet and obedient” you voiced in one breath.

He was drinking in your words, acting captivated.

“Do you think you lack something?” he stepped closer, one of his hands rested on the counter next to you, the one he used to hold your jaw, now travelled lower to your neck, he was gentle, a simple touch. You became aware of the contact of the material of his pants against your inner thigh.

His question amused you.

“Definitely not obedient” you answered softly.

He breathed out a chuckle.

“Definitely not” he nodded with amusement that never left his face “Well, she wasn’t very smart about it, was she?” his voice quieter now, almost whispering “Bringing a girl with her, with a lovely, kind smile, big, sparkling and mysterious eyes, delicate, not greedy touch. Smart, intelligent and elegant, wearing a pretty little black dress that got me staring at her heavenly legs for the whole night. Acting, like she was not staring back at all” he carefully articulated each word, bringing you into a breathless state “And the way she moves while she dances? Sinful”

His thumb now stroking your delicately parted lips, his eyes following the act.

“Are you saying that I seduced you?” you managed to utter. Your voice shaky due to the amount of tension between you, growing thicker with every second.

“Hmm. I believe you did. You’re turning me weak and desperate”

Oh, he was good, he was so fucking good. Death to the morality, decency and common sense. You were more than willing to let him have what he wanted.

“God, you are good at this, aren’t you?” you breathed, staring into his dangerous eyes, feeling like the world around you decreases and anchors in his irises.

And the next thing was very much unexpected, because he leaned in and delicately kissed you on the mouth. Not in a simple and innocent way, not a little peck, soft yet so intimate and erotic that it made you dizzy.

“There’s many more things I’m good at” he whispered against your lips before kissing you again “Let me show you” another kiss.

Oh, oh God. You could feel your legs shake already. Your blood pulsing in your veins. There was wetness gathering in your underwear. Words, he was using words, and you ended up in a state where there appeared a thin line, easily to break for you to fall apart. Too little air to breathe. Too little of him.

“I can make you feel so good” he breathed before kissing you again. This time you could not stop it, a little moan leaving your chest, meating with his lips.

It was like a spur, he stepped forward, pushing you to turn and lean against the kitchen counter. His hands on the both sided behind you. Trapped. Under him, under his intense gaze, his lust. He pushed his mouth on yours, this time the kiss more urgent, lasting, passionate. You reached with your hands to his neck to keep him there, revelling in the softness yet firmness of his lips. His leg sneaking between your legs, you moved against it. Another of your moans kissed away, you were fucking close to peak. Just few more thrusts, you could feel it. A dirtier kiss, his tongue sticking out to swiftly lick and catch your own. You were breathless and dazed. The attraction, the want, the need, everything you felt right now was unfamiliar. An experience so powerful and rousing, you were afraid it could make you go mad. Few more pushes, it felt other-worldly. But he stopped, leaning back, putting his hand on your hip to prevent your movement. You whined in protest, he just smirked.

“I want to kiss you” he declared.

“Then kiss me” your brain fogged, you foolishly tried to lean into him.

He meant something else, you realized after a minute.

“Not there, darling” as he slowly kneeled in front of you.

You swallowed, observing him in this whole new position. Below you, on his knees, the look on his face menacing.

“May I?” he asked, placing his hands under your short dress.

You nodded, and it was enough for him. He reached higher, taking the strings of the thongs you were wearing between his fingers, gently and slowly drawing them down your legs. All this time his eyes were on you. You adored his eyes and the way he looked at you, yes. He hiked up your left leg to put it on his shoulder, with no further delay he pushed the folds of your dress higher. You cried out at the first simple contact. It was madness. You tried holding yourself straight by keeping your hands on the counter behind you, but he pushed his tongue deep inside you and you jumped, one of your hands reached for his head, feeling his hair for the first time. Few more moments, few quick and feverish breaths and you started whining. You were loud. Not obnoxiously loud, just vocal. You knew you wouldn’t last long, grinding on his mouth a little sheepishly, wetness now trailing down your thigh. The sight of him standing up after he was finished, with his chin glistening, using his forearm to wipe it clean was exquisite. You were never familiar with orgasms this quick and powerful. You almost slipped but he caught you.

Now you were even more desperate. So you took him to your bedroom. Reaching with your needy hands to remove his t-shirt, taking a breath when your gaze met with his bare torso. You started to admire his built, well defined muscles, soft, beautiful, dark skin. He noticed your stare and you smiled playfully at his reaction. He was so handsome. Then he was kissing you again.

“I want this dress off” he muttered lowly and you sweetly batted your eyelashes at him before taking a step back to grant him his wish.

“And I want you on the bed” he added.

You left your stockings on, partly forgetting about them at first, then making your mind about leaving them to add to your seductive appearance. He seemed to approve it, as you could conclude from the way he was observing the whole act of you gently sitting down on the bed, putting your legs up elegantly, then laying down to lewdly part them for his eyes to see everything. You could notice him suck in a breath. You were truly affecting him in a way you would never expect. What was it that made you so special? There were girls of sorts in this world, and he could have them all. Just the thought of it thrilled you. Now it was him that grew desperate, hurriedly tossing the belt aside, pulling the pants off.

“I thought you’d make a show out of it” you joked.

“I’m too hard for that, love”

You giggled and he was quick to join you. Once more you felt the excitement hit you strong when you had him close. So you kissed him. There was no place for playing and teasing now, you opened up widely for him, there was urge and desperation. A sharp sting when he entered you, a sure and swift move, accented by your whimper. He groaned throatily, feeling you coat him. You needed a moment, a moment for a few breaths. It’s been a while.

“Be good. Don’t wanna bust too fast” his voice breathy.

You looked him in the eyes, kissed him briefly and then pulled away, focusing on flexing the kegel muscles to hug him while buried deep inside of you. And you achieved your goal spectacularly, making him curse under his breath, a sweet frown on his face.

“Oh, you mean don’t do that?” in a soft and innocent voice.

He moved.

“You’re sweet” rough thrust.

“Ah!” you cried, not being prepared to be so sensitive and responsive at this point.

“Sweet girl, wanna be smart with me” thrust.

His words messier now, less coherent. You were so full, already grasping at his shoulders, you legs locking him in, your belly tensing, seeking pleasure yet still trying to accustom to the prominent feeling radiating from between your legs.

“Tell me how you want it” he whispered against your parted lips.

“Gentle”

“Oh, I think you like it opposite” another sharp snap of his hips.

Another whine filling the room. You loved it.

“Come on, kiss me” he asked.

Never before you have experienced this much talking during sex, your partners mostly fixated on the part that brought them the awaited release. This was new, exciting to you, adding to every other strong sensation you felt at this very moment.

You opened your mouth for him to ravish you further, his tongue still precise when he kissed you, while you started to turn sloppy. He sped his movements up, your senses now only focused on it. Too dazed and intoxicated you could not find any strength to kiss him back anymore, letting him take control over everything, sighing little moans into his mouth. You writhed under him after you heard him moan into your ear. You clenched around him, now uncontrollably, dangerously close to fall apart.

“Oh no baby, not yet” he murmured sneaking an arm around your middle, pulling you up with him.

You sighed, your hair falling in messy waves on your back, shoulders and face, you did not care about fixing them. Now you were seated on top of him, almost worn out already, placing your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself straight. You opened your heavy lids to notice him watching you attentively. Hooded eyes, lips parted, a little bit of sweat on his temple, you were mesmerized. Putting one of his hands behind him, he reached with the other to wrap it around your middle, however you had other ideas. He gave you the perfect opportunity to take control. You wanted to bound him to you and it was possible through a very simple feminine spell – to put him down and strip him from all the power he believed he possessed.

“Lay down on your back” you murmured gingerly, placing your palm on his chest. Like a plea, he enjoyed your softness and delicacy. You were about to give him more taste of that. What happens if he can’t be in charge?

He did as you said and the lovely sight before your eyes was enlivening. A powerful shot of rapture awoke more confidence in you. His hands reached up to grasp your hips but you snapped them away.

“Don’t” you warned.

His chuckle was almost dark.

“You want to be in control, huh?”

“Shut up”

“Yeah, go on, love. I wanna see you movin” he was amused.

You were going to wipe that smirk off his face. The first roll of your hips slow and careful, simple, the next one more purposeful. You smiled playfully before circling your hips on your way back. Slow, tantalizingly slow, back and forward, back and forward. You were watching him, observing how his face changed when you sped up only to slow down again. A groan and a delicate pout appearing on his face immediately. His hands resting on your thighs, you were careful. Innocent eyes, a soft moan leaving his lips, a honeyed sound. You even caught his belly tensing. Oh, you got him.

“Do you like that?” you asked sweetly “Do you like how I’m fucking you, Jude? Are you close?”

No words from him, he just groaned in frustration trying to reach for your hips. You slapped them away again. Lowering your body you thought about kissing him. His mouth turning sloppier now, the contact was all tongue and saliva. He pushed his hips up into you, making you moan.

“That’s enough” he rasped as you leaned back. He grabbed your hips roughly and you prepared yourself for the upcoming ferocity.

A giggle died in your throat as he fucked up into you, holding you strong, his fingers digging almost painfully into your skin.

It was your name he called. Yet it was too late and you were too tired to realize what you have done.

special tag @madridfangirl

#football imagine #football fics #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham fic

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