you weren’t used to dealing with someone one who had as many options as you, especially not with anyone you dealt with behind closed doors. pnd inspired lol.
cw: smut, sneaky linksss, texts, jealousy, cursing, arguing, pet names (baby, ma, pa, daddy), dirty talk, missionary (aran loves to look at your pretty face).
it’s homecoming week at your university, the streets and sidewalks of campus are filled with more than the normal amount of students. house parties being planned around every corner, and food trucks and goody stands wherever you turn. it was a weekend to be alive but for you it turned out to be a weekend full of surprises. the night was still young while you put on the final touches of accessories to pull your outfit together. snapping a couple mirror pics away as you waited for your friends to finish their pregame rituals. “one more shot then we gotta go!” your best friend gizelle giggled, alcohol already coursing through her system and you haven’t even left for the party yet.
you laughed to yourself, continuing to scroll through your phone and weeding out the pictures you didn’t like until a text from a certain someone came across your screen. a smile curving into your lips as you read over the message.
‘can’t wait to see you, ain seen yo fine ass all day.’
“c’mon y/n! take a shot with me!” sending a quick reply you stood, waving your hands in refusal, a flustered smile on your face. “you know i can’t hold liquor.” gizelle smacked her lips, grabbing and pulling you towards the island. “bitch it’s homecoming! throw it back.” placing a shot glass with a slice lime on its rim in your hand. filled with nothing but her fav alcohol, don julio. you timidly lift the glass to your lips. gizelle playfully rolling her eyes and pushing the cup to your lips for you to down, watching your face scrunch in disgust with a giggle. “now we’re ready t’go.”
soon as the door opened the smells of alcohol, weed, and other substances filled your nose. clouded over ceilings and music thumping from the speakers while you and your girls weaved through the crowd straight towards the kitchen. where different bowls of punch made by the greeks were lined up on the table, “so what y’all feeling? i’m leaning towards oil, centaur piss or tiddy milk.” your friend gizelle grabbed a couple cups, you laughed reading over the labels. “greeks always come up with the freakiest shit for drinks.”
you settled for the tiddy milk, joining your friends who were drunkenly rapping and dancing to the music. sipping on the pina colada flavor drink as you glanced over the crowded room. eyes being met with low ones that were already on you. chilling against the wall in rotation, black fit contrasting nice against his deep caramel skin. your mystery boo, aran ojiro. he gives you a smirk and a acknowledging wink, leaving you flustered with a small smile. trying your best to focus on your friends but you kept looking back over your shoulder, body feigning to be by his side. the only thing grabbing your attention is your phone flashing and buzzing in your hand with a thread of texts.
‘you look so good’
‘can’t wait to have yo sexy ass to myself tn.’
‘pretty ass’
‘you givin’ me them looks, must be ready to go’
you give him a glance, aran practically eye fucking you from across the room as he took a long pull of the blunt. you throw him a small innocent nod, your friends picking up on the signs and having a silent conversation between themselves. exchanging looks of ‘she finna leave us for some dick’ and longs sips of their drinks in agreement ‘mhmm’. gizelle finally speaking up with quick bump to the side. “leaving soon?” you suck your teeth and roll your eye’s playfully, ignoring your friends teasing to focus on your boo. aran texting you a quick ‘bet’ pushing himself off the wall and getting ready to make his exit until a girl walked up on him, tugging on his shirt to bring him closer with a smile as she spoke with him.
your eyebrow raised with a scoff, eyeing the interaction from across the room. blood beginning to boil at how long the two have been talking. “ain’t nobody worth leavin’ for.” you say to your friend, turning your back on aran, setting your phone on do not disturb and focusing on the group of girl for the rest of the night. trying your best to not let someone you weren’t even exclusively dating get to you, but your friends definitely noticed the slight shift. “you good girl?”
you nodded, deciding to call it a night. you weren’t one to dampen the mood and mope around your friends. “m’ just tired, been out all day..” gizelle nodded, not asking anymore questions and dropping you off to your dorm, ready to listen whenever your ready to share. the drive back was quiet but comfortable, soft music playing through the speakers. you just staring out at the road post in your thoughts. you didn’t understand what was going on with you. yeah you liked aran, but the traits and behaviors you were throwing you off. some were good and some were bad, like jealousy.
an emotion you never really displayed until now, not even with previous flings or boyfriends. you never really had to compete for anyone’s attention, so where you found yourself now was was new.. and embarrassing. “see you tomorrow luv.” you blew her a kiss, grabbing your things and hopping out the car. walking toward the complex entrance, you found aran waiting for you. ignoring him you walked straight to the door, searching in your purse for your keys. “wassup, so you ignoring me now?” you shook your head, back still turned to him as you placed your id on the reader, unlocking the door. “didn’t think you cared whether i ignored you or not..
“you seemed to have a good convo with ole girl at the party..”
“so you gone be like this over a girl talkin’ to me?” aran raised a brow in confusion, turning you around to face him. you gave him little time though, pulling out your phone and texting your friends you made it home. “aran i’m wayyy too drunk for this conversation right now.” but you were interrupted by him snatching your phone out of your hand.
“man look..” he sighed, placing your phone in his pocket. “m’ not about to do this childish bullshit with you, so what’s up with you.” you shrugged your shoulders, finally facing him with a facade of no emotion. “it doesn’t matter, aran. none of this shit matters.” aran’s face flashing with confusion, taken back by your response. “you could wake up one morning deciding to ghost me for that girl who was feeling all up on you tonight, or any of the options in yo roster and it wouldn’t be shit i could do about it. so why would you care if i’m mad huh?!”
“so you wanna pull that card? you know i ain’t even on that timing.” aran sucked his teeth, jaw clenching with agitation. “everytime i show you any type of progress to something more YOU RUN. that shit confusing!” you close your arms around yourself, embarrassed that he truly paid attention to you and your actions. “whatever aran, can i just get my phone.” he scoffed, running his tatted hand down his face with a sarcastic laugh leaving his lips. “now it’s whatever, shit don’t feel good do it?”
“you the first girl in a while that i felt was fucking with me for me and not some basketball wife fantasy.” aran breathed out, pausing for a second before going on. “you ain’t gotta fight for no spot that already reserved for you ma.” head falling down in defeated with his hands in his pockets.
“but you think i’m privileged or this lil boy who playing games..”
“i don’t think your either aran..” you slowly approached him, engulfing him in a tight hug. aran nuzzled into your neck, hands wrapped tight around your waist as he melted into the sweet smell of your perfume. nothing no longer exchanged because everything had already be said with those few words. aran pulled back, looking into your eyes before closing your lips in a deep, heated kiss. eyes darting all over his face once he pulled back, “still staying with me tonight? so i can hold and kiss on you.”
“hm i don’t know.” hiding your smirk in his neck, trying to continue your pouty attitude, aran smacked his teeth rubbing his hands all over your curves. squeezing on the soft flesh of your ass. “c’mon mama, come home with me.” you sighed, giving him a soft smile. mind set on giving him a hard time the rest of the night as he tries to make it up to you but not even five minutes passed in his room before you were puddy in his arms.
your anklets dangling next your ear while aran folded you up in his bed, ready to split you open. your whines sounding off the walls as his heavy dick slapped down on your throbbing clit. “looka that wet ass pussy..” running it through your slit and teasing your entrance with his tip before sinking into you deep, eyes rolling back with a moan as he caressed your sweet spot within. aran watching the white ring form around the base from how eagerly you sucked him in. keeping that steady pace that had you leaking for him, your hand pushing at his pelvis to keep him from going too deep, only for him to remove it and place it on your lower belly. pushing it down for you to feel him fucking you in ways you’ve never felt before. “feel me huh? m’ all yours mama, this yo dick.”
“ain’t no reason to trip”
your back arching into his at the deep slow pace he maintained, making sure you feel every single inch he gave you. stretching and filling you full while his thumb circled your clit and setting the fire in the pit of your stomach ablaze, legs shaking in his hold. “o-ohhh my g-goddd, paaa.” his eyes flickering from your pooling mess to your glazed over eyes, moaning at how you clenched down on him. “i know baby, i know..”
oncoming orgasm swelling your walls and trying to push him out. “open up for daddy.” slowly hardening his thrust, hips slamming against your pelvis with precision. moans catching in your throat as aran watches your pretty brown breast bounce in his hold, nipples hard and erect from the cool air against your scorching skin. aran wrapping a strong hand around your neck leaning in and giving you a sloppy kiss, slipping his tongue in your mouth and swallowing every moan you let out for him. aran pulled back with a smirk, lips red and wet from the kiss. “you still mad at me..?” you came hard, creamy arousal coating his dick and pelvis. aran slowly stroking you through your orgasm with a smile.
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ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄 is the type of boyfriend who’d get you a solid gold anklet decorated with his name and a heart just because he want to see his name while he’s innit.
your pretty red lace panties were basically torn off of you the second connie got on top of you.
“ffuckk, m’sorry baby your pussy’s just to good fuck” he moaned out, thick cock rapidly pulling almost completely out then slamming in hitting that sweet sweet spot that made your legs turn to jelly.
he was hungry, fucking starving for you.
“ahhh, babyy s’so fuckin deep, mhmm just like that” you moaned out wrapping your hands around his neck pulling him into a sloppy kiss, sucking on his tongue feeling his piercing.
connie was in a daze looking at you. big pretty eyes with long lashes all teary, plump lips swollen and wet from you biting them and drooling, tits on full display bouncing up and down, and fuckk the way your legs were all the up to each side of your head and your ankle decorated with his name.
you looked down seeing connie’s cock bulge appear everytime he thrusted in then back out, it was so hypnotizing. but what connie was more focused on was how fucking good you looked with his name on you.
“who’s fuckin pussy is this ma” he asked as his pace quickened “hmm baby, i asked you who’s. fuckin. pussy. is. this.” he asked thrusting hard on each word.
your eyes were pouring, and your legs quivering. fuck this felt like heaven, so fuckin goodd.
“pussy’s all yours baby” you babbled out “j-just to her s-sing to you”
splat splat slap
wet noises coming from connie’s cock beating your soaked cunt filled the room
“fuck baby, tryna make me nut rn hmm” he said grabbing your ankles, placing a gentle kiss on them before placing them on his shoulders.
he was fucking you so good, your pretty, brown wet pussy clenched around his cock as your toes curled and you squirted all over his lower region as you moaned chants of his name and incoherent babbles.
“good fuckin girl mami, just like that baby” he talked you through your orgasm as he approached his own.
not long after he came deep inside you with low grunts and moans that were like music to your ears.
before you could even register what happened his head was already between your legs.
“cant leave my girl all messy, that wouldn’t be nice” he spoke with foux kindness.
you just remember seeing him stick his tongue out, decorated with a frog eye piercing on it’s tip before he was tongue and two fingers deep inside you.
sypnosis. fwb!aot x fem!reader ,, college au
pairings. nerd!armin, frat!eren, jock!reiner
cw. filthy smut, unprotected sex
authors note. new to tumblr, pls be nice. i’m australian so forgive me if i don’t get the whole college au thing right. reader may or may not be a bird... not proofread!!
NERD!ARMIN
innocent, frigid, sweet armin.
all of these were true, until of course that fateful day he became your tutor. a walking stereotype for geeks turned hot?
it isn’t merely egotistical to say that you were out of his league status wise, it’s the truth. yet you were the first to make a move, almost instantly working your charm on him just to shut him up. however, once you got his dick, you just couldn’t give it up!
since the change of scenery, tutoring sessions became makeout sessions, and an hour a week turned to two hours a day. it was almost exhausting trying to keep up with armin’s newfound libido. but of course, you always found a way to make time for him, slipping through the exit of a party way earlier than usual, sneaking him in while your roommate was still out, muffling his whimpers with your bare palm to avoid neighbouring suspicion.
you hate to admit it, but you’ve grown to like armin. so when he calls you, all mushy voiced and sniffling between his words, you can’t help but end up at the front of his dorm. knock, knock. the door pulls open gently, a familiar face welcoming you. tears bridging the waterlines of his big eyes, blonde locks untamed, glasses almost sideways. you take in his desperate look before pushing yourself in, grabbing his face in a soft kiss.
“it’s okay, let me take care of you,” he doesn’t protest, he never does. instead, he simply allows you to lead him to his bed. you straddle him before wiping his tears away, replacing the liquid with kisses before making your way down his neck. “you always treat me so good,” he mutters meekly as his hands make their way to the slim of your waist. you chuckle at the desperation in his voice and touch. “want you so bad,” he whimpers beneath you. that simple wish flicks a switch in you.
soon enough, he’s spread beneath you, dick deep in your gushy walls as your hips snap against him mercilessly. “fuck- too much baby, slow down!” he attempts to grab your hips to a halt, only for you to retaliate by pinning his wrists against the head board, using him to stabilise your ruthless movements. “thought you wanted me so bad?” you tease. all he can do is yelp in return, tears coming back to haunt him as you take any pent up frustration out on his cock.
crazed with need, you stare into his eyes, waiting for him to do the same, but he’s too caught up in the overstimulating pleasure of your tight walls to realise anything. your free hand lands a soft blow to his cheek “look at me,” you whimper, noticing the overwhelming feeling has started to get to you as well. “looking at you- tsss fuckkk- you look so perfect,” his kind words conflict the nasty image on his bed. “need ta’ cum armin,” the words escape your pretty lips. “let me help,” he responds before breaking free of your grip, hands automatically grabbing the softness of your hips, almost enough to bruise.
he thrusts into you, once, then twice, then he doesn’t stop. as if under a spell, the whimpering mess beneath you becomes a determined pussy monster. the sounds escaping from both your lips are just utterly dirty, between your pretty moans and the squelching of your pussy, he doesn’t know which one is driving him crazier. “fuckfuck- so close armin,” you betray your controlling facade, giving your body to him as he thrusts beneath you. “i know baby, so good for me,” he groans breathlessly. and that’s all you needed. your walls clench around him, your vision blinded by white as your mouth calls for him one last time. you fall on top of him, your weight becoming his burden. yet he still refuses to stop his brutal pace, his hands grabbing onto the fat of your ass to give him a better angle as he chases his own release. “nghhh- inside armin!” you whimper, self respect slipping as you allow him to abuse your pussy. “are you sure?” he tries his best to check, but before you can respond he’s already balls deep releasing himself into you. his moans are so pretty, he gasps in your ear as you feel the liquid build up inside of you.
after cleaning yourself up, armin tries to get you to stay the night, you make up the same shitty excuse. as if he doesn’t know you’ve never studied without him there to force you. your hand grips the handle as you prepare to leave. “same time tomorrow?” the innocent voice calls out, replacing the relentless fuck you had just shared. “you know it!” you smile gently before leaving his room empty, leaving him only with the company of himself.
FRATBOY!EREN
through rumours you had learnt about the infamous eren yaegar, unbeknownst that you to would eventually fall into his web of “hit and dip”.
naive you were, your first year spent on an agreement with eren. fuck-buddies, that’s it, no strings. and yet you had taken him into your next year, eventually landing first place in his list of girls. you always answered. so why would he need anyone else? that’s what he tells himself, trying his best to convince his mind that he’s not the one getting attached. trying to convince himself that he could still get hard at the sight of another woman laying with him, trying his very best to convince himself that he didn’t dream about your pretty little face last night.
another night spent in your empty dorm, your roommate doing god knows what with god knows who. phone in hand, you scroll through the pictures eren had sent you last week, fingers trying to replicate his as you nudge your clit gently. just the familiar sight of his torso gets you wet. you close your eyes to imagine the last time you had him, the big figure that loomed atop of you, treating you so well and dragging multiple orgasms (four, he counted aloud) out of you. your pussy aches for more than your pathetic hand, and who are you to deny her? you open your eyes as if waking yourself up from a trance, immediately opening your messages, he’s pinned, because of course he is. you tap on the convenient number, shooting him an ominous text “need you.” and that’s all he needs.
flashing lights and blasting music taunt eren’s senses. your notification manages to pull his head out of the scene of the drunk crowd, he lifts his phone up, a shit-eating grin plastering his face as he reads it to himself. “fina-fucking-ly.” he mutters to himself followed with a groan. his fingers type back as if by instinct, or maybe pattern. “coming.” he sends.
later that night, your back is to him, stomach and face pushed into the comfort of your bed while he grinds into you like a drill. the nasty sounds falling from your lips stick to the wall and bounce right back to eren’s ears. “fuck baby, heh, you missed this dick that much?” all you can respond with is a meek yelp as he drives his cock further into the welcoming grasp of your pussy. “i asked you fucking a question,” he demands an answer, hand trailing from the curve of your back up to your ass. smack! he lands a hard blow to the fat, adding to the recoil on top of his relentless pace. “yesss ‘ren, missed it so much!” you’re not even trying to be quiet, sure that your neighbours have already become used to the late night noise pollution. “missed you too pretty, fuckin’ pussy’s gonna drive me insane.” he groans into the air. your pussy replies with a dirty squelch, so wet that you’ve convinced yourself it’s unnatural. and to be frank, there was nothing natural about the way he was fucking his big mean cock into your needy cunt.
the utter dirt falling out of your mouth has eren feeling as if it’s possible for him to get any harder. “pussy needs you so bad ‘ren, only guy that can treat her right.” you feed into his ego, and as usual he smirk to himself, giving your ass another bruising slap. “i know baby, i know.” he leans down to whisper into your ear, rough voice dripping with desire. he switches his angle quickly, knowing exactly how to get you to the edge. a deep moan escapes your mouth, one that’ll surely drive out complaints from the building residents. but you don’t care, especially not when you’re so close you can taste it. “fuckfuckfuck! so so close baby!” you yeld at the sudden tenderness.
then, you feel your cunt wrap around nothing. noticing the sudden emptiness, you turn back to protest. “hey-“ but you’re cut off my the winding force that pulls you onto your back. he’s on top of you, large presence oozing menacingly as he grins right in your face. “missing something?” he teases, arms trapping your head still. your big eyes gaze up at him, a pathetic attempt to get him to fuck you the way he was two seconds ago. “pleaseeee, need it!” you whine, pulling him closer to you. he meets you in a deep kiss, passionate and hot. when he breaks the kiss, a thin string of saliva connects the two of you.
“take it then.” he challenges, thrusting into you without warning. eren sets a deathly pace, ensuring you become completely dumb by the time he’s done with you. your eyes roll back, whines and whimpers exiting your mouth, no longer restrained. “s-slow down, mmph!” you grab onto his back, fingernails leaving marks. “shit! you wanted this babygirl,” he kisses your cheek teasingly. “thought you could take it? you can take it right? be good for me,” he lets out a deep groan. you nod your head obediently, already fucked to oblivion. “mhm- i’m a- a good girl yeah.” you don’t even know what you’re talking about, and eren would be laughing at you if his brain was any more clear than yours. but instead he’s stead focused on the sight of you two connecting. “shit, look at that.” he chuckles, voice strained. “gonna cum ‘ren!” those words snap him back to reality, he uses his final senses left to drive you to your well deserved orgasm. with a loud yelp, the walls of your pussy gush around him. he fucks you through it, ensuring your cunt is treated like a princess. eren reaches his own release with a loud grunt, pulling out before letting the thick load sprawl onto your exposed lips. you moan at the hot touch, in response he chuckles. “fuuuck baby, milked me dry,” he praises, placing a kiss onto your forehead. eren collapses next to you, arm wrapping around the back of your neck. “round two?”
JOCK!REINER
if you didn’t know him you’d think he’s just another jacked oaf. and you did. key word, did.
your own blissful innocence is what got you caught up in this mess, his mess. a simple group assignment wasn’t supposed to turn into a dirty secret, but with the late nights spent together something was absolutely bound to happen. and it was more than friendship. you liked the way he pulled you out of your comfort zone (and onto his dick).
you went from having to be dragged to football games by your friends, to attending every single one without complaint. you watched from the sidelines, examining as if you knew anything about football. but the truth was, all you knew was that you were gonna get some dick no matter the outcome of the game. he’d practically begged you to wear his jersey number, claiming that “nobody would even notice,” but you were to smart for his whines. you’d secretly hoped that he would lose, because that’s when he gets mean. and your wish was granted. the settling score made you crack a smirk.
he didn’t bother dragging you to an after party, much too worried about getting his dick wet before walking into a crowded frat. so when the crowd had dispersed, and your friends had ditched you for a free ride, you made your way down the bleachers, and towards the empty locker room. same as always, he was waiting for you. sweat dripping down his naked upper frame, loose towel hanging onto the muscle of his upper thighs. you could almost feel what was about to happen. “there she is,” he grins, but nothing was funny about the way he was about to fuck you.
you cant complain about the position he has you in seconds later, face smushed into the cold metal of locker, bare ass perked just where he need it to be, hands gripped back by his own. “shit, could see you smiling at the end of the game, you think that’s funny?” he grunts into your ear. “mnm, mnm,” you yelp against the locker. he lets one of your hands loose, allowing you to stabilise yourself before he creeps his free hand down to your inner thigh. the rough skin sends a shiver down your back. he can’t help but rub that clit of yours. “wet already huh?” he questions you, but you can’t answer, too lost in the pleasure rumbling within your bundle of nerves down below. “can’t answer? guess i’m just gonna have to fuck it out of you,” he whispers gently, completely conflicting the scene in front of him.
he was absolutely one to talk up his size, but it was never a lie. you’d only learnt that after never being able to take him fully, even despite the countless hookups. so when he’s bullying his cock into your dripping pussy, you can’t hold back your pathetic moans. “c’mon baby, you can take it,” he taunts you, wide smirk on his face. all you can mutter is a pitiful “m-mhmmm.” inch by inch he claims your cunt as if it was field he was playing on thirty minutes earlier. you can feel the frustration in his bruising grip on your wrist. “nghh ts too much rein,” you plead as if it could stop him. and with the final inch in, you suddenly become extremely aware of the tenderness, almost immediately breaking down into a whimpering mess. your back arches into the newfound sensation, ultimately driving him in deeper. “shiiiiiit, nah, you can take it baby,” he groans, growls almost. and from there forth, his bruising grip isn’t all you have to worry about.
he pulls his length out, fully, before thrusting back into the tight wetness of your pussy. you gasp, then shutter, thighs shacking and calves almost giving up. as if to save you from falling on your own face, he lifts you up effortlessly, holding you by your thighs as he bullies his relentless dick into you. you look back, face flustered and surprised. “don’t look at me like that, you knew what was gonna happen when you came down here looking for me,” he brushes off your innocent facade. you reply with a strained moan. his grip gets tighter, and his thrusts get meaner. he pulls you up and down to meet his fastened pace half way.
“fuuuckkkk, just like that honey,” he nuzzles into the comfort of your neck. “too much!” you whine, but your cunt says otherwise with her feral gushing sounds. “you love it,” he grunts. you can feel every inch of his cock, every vein, and especially the soft curve since it’s hitting that spot only he’s been able to find. your mind goes dumb, absolutely cock drunk as he drills into you from below. “sssooo close,” you whimper meekly. “yeah? already?” he chuckles at the mess you’ve made, coats of your slick dripping down your thighs to his.
“be a doll and rub that clit for me,” he says as if he’s asking, but you know it’s a command. so you do as he says, untangling your arm before tracing down to your clit, sure enough that you might just die after he’s done with you. “mhm, just like that pretty,” his approval feels so good, praising words making their way from your ears to your cunt. you huff softly between your moans, and he knows by pattern that you’re about to cum. “don’t be shy sweetheart, you got this,” your frail fingers work faster on your bundle, chasing your own release as he ruins your pussy.
with one last whimper you fall apart, vision blurring as you’re overcome with pleasure. your thighs shake uncontrollably, your cunt grasps onto reiner as if holding him captive, and then you come undone, juicy pussy squelching. he slows down his once relentless pace, “fuck- yeah baby, mm- just like that, drag it out of me,” you’d respond if you could, you try your best but all that leaves your lips is another whimper.
he continues to fuck you through your orgasm before naturally chasing his own, pace thickening again. “cmon baby, just a little more,” your body goes limp, mind as well. your tempting moans echoe through the seemingly empty room. “reiner,” you mutter, and that gets him to the edge. the delicate way you string out his name instantly has him dumping his stress into you. you can feel the overwhelming, thick load spur against the walls of your cunt, turning you into a whining mess again.
when he finally releases you, he sits on down on one of the benches lined between the various lockers. and god, he’s so pretty, hair all messed up, sweat dripping down his toned abs. you can’t help but crawl into his lap. just as you were about to opt for another round, a voice breaks through yours.
you weren’t used to dealing with someone one who had as many options as you, especially not with anyone you dealt with behind closed doors. pnd inspired lol.
cw: smut, sneaky linksss, texts, jealousy, cursing, arguing, pet names (baby, ma, pa, daddy), dirty talk, missionary (aran loves to look at your pretty face).
it’s homecoming week at your university, the streets and sidewalks of campus are filled with more than the normal amount of students. house parties being planned around every corner, and food trucks and goody stands wherever you turn. it was a weekend to be alive but for you it turned out to be a weekend full of surprises. the night was still young while you put on the final touches of accessories to pull your outfit together. snapping a couple mirror pics away as you waited for your friends to finish their pregame rituals. “one more shot then we gotta go!” your best friend gizelle giggled, alcohol already coursing through her system and you haven’t even left for the party yet.
you laughed to yourself, continuing to scroll through your phone and weeding out the pictures you didn’t like until a text from a certain someone came across your screen. a smile curving into your lips as you read over the message.
‘can’t wait to see you, ain seen yo fine ass all day.’
“c’mon y/n! take a shot with me!” sending a quick reply you stood, waving your hands in refusal, a flustered smile on your face. “you know i can’t hold liquor.” gizelle smacked her lips, grabbing and pulling you towards the island. “bitch it’s homecoming! throw it back.” placing a shot glass with a slice lime on its rim in your hand. filled with nothing but her fav alcohol, don julio. you timidly lift the glass to your lips. gizelle playfully rolling her eyes and pushing the cup to your lips for you to down, watching your face scrunch in disgust with a giggle. “now we’re ready t’go.”
soon as the door opened the smells of alcohol, weed, and other substances filled your nose. clouded over ceilings and music thumping from the speakers while you and your girls weaved through the crowd straight towards the kitchen. where different bowls of punch made by the greeks were lined up on the table, “so what y’all feeling? i’m leaning towards oil, centaur piss or tiddy milk.” your friend gizelle grabbed a couple cups, you laughed reading over the labels. “greeks always come up with the freakiest shit for drinks.”
you settled for the tiddy milk, joining your friends who were drunkenly rapping and dancing to the music. sipping on the pina colada flavor drink as you glanced over the crowded room. eyes being met with low ones that were already on you. chilling against the wall in rotation, black fit contrasting nice against his deep caramel skin. your mystery boo, aran ojiro. he gives you a smirk and a acknowledging wink, leaving you flustered with a small smile. trying your best to focus on your friends but you kept looking back over your shoulder, body feigning to be by his side. the only thing grabbing your attention is your phone flashing and buzzing in your hand with a thread of texts.
‘you look so good’
‘can’t wait to have yo sexy ass to myself tn.’
‘pretty ass’
‘you givin’ me them looks, must be ready to go’
you give him a glance, aran practically eye fucking you from across the room as he took a long pull of the blunt. you throw him a small innocent nod, your friends picking up on the signs and having a silent conversation between themselves. exchanging looks of ‘she finna leave us for some dick’ and longs sips of their drinks in agreement ‘mhmm’. gizelle finally speaking up with quick bump to the side. “leaving soon?” you suck your teeth and roll your eye’s playfully, ignoring your friends teasing to focus on your boo. aran texting you a quick ‘bet’ pushing himself off the wall and getting ready to make his exit until a girl walked up on him, tugging on his shirt to bring him closer with a smile as she spoke with him.
your eyebrow raised with a scoff, eyeing the interaction from across the room. blood beginning to boil at how long the two have been talking. “ain’t nobody worth leavin’ for.” you say to your friend, turning your back on aran, setting your phone on do not disturb and focusing on the group of girl for the rest of the night. trying your best to not let someone you weren’t even exclusively dating get to you, but your friends definitely noticed the slight shift. “you good girl?”
you nodded, deciding to call it a night. you weren’t one to dampen the mood and mope around your friends. “m’ just tired, been out all day..” gizelle nodded, not asking anymore questions and dropping you off to your dorm, ready to listen whenever your ready to share. the drive back was quiet but comfortable, soft music playing through the speakers. you just staring out at the road post in your thoughts. you didn’t understand what was going on with you. yeah you liked aran, but the traits and behaviors you were throwing you off. some were good and some were bad, like jealousy.
an emotion you never really displayed until now, not even with previous flings or boyfriends. you never really had to compete for anyone’s attention, so where you found yourself now was was new.. and embarrassing. “see you tomorrow luv.” you blew her a kiss, grabbing your things and hopping out the car. walking toward the complex entrance, you found aran waiting for you. ignoring him you walked straight to the door, searching in your purse for your keys. “wassup, so you ignoring me now?” you shook your head, back still turned to him as you placed your id on the reader, unlocking the door. “didn’t think you cared whether i ignored you or not..
“you seemed to have a good convo with ole girl at the party..”
“so you gone be like this over a girl talkin’ to me?” aran raised a brow in confusion, turning you around to face him. you gave him little time though, pulling out your phone and texting your friends you made it home. “aran i’m wayyy too drunk for this conversation right now.” but you were interrupted by him snatching your phone out of your hand.
“man look..” he sighed, placing your phone in his pocket. “m’ not about to do this childish bullshit with you, so what’s up with you.” you shrugged your shoulders, finally facing him with a facade of no emotion. “it doesn’t matter, aran. none of this shit matters.” aran’s face flashing with confusion, taken back by your response. “you could wake up one morning deciding to ghost me for that girl who was feeling all up on you tonight, or any of the options in yo roster and it wouldn’t be shit i could do about it. so why would you care if i’m mad huh?!”
“so you wanna pull that card? you know i ain’t even on that timing.” aran sucked his teeth, jaw clenching with agitation. “everytime i show you any type of progress to something more YOU RUN. that shit confusing!” you close your arms around yourself, embarrassed that he truly paid attention to you and your actions. “whatever aran, can i just get my phone.” he scoffed, running his tatted hand down his face with a sarcastic laugh leaving his lips. “now it’s whatever, shit don’t feel good do it?”
“you the first girl in a while that i felt was fucking with me for me and not some basketball wife fantasy.” aran breathed out, pausing for a second before going on. “you ain’t gotta fight for no spot that already reserved for you ma.” head falling down in defeated with his hands in his pockets.
“but you think i’m privileged or this lil boy who playing games..”
“i don’t think your either aran..” you slowly approached him, engulfing him in a tight hug. aran nuzzled into your neck, hands wrapped tight around your waist as he melted into the sweet smell of your perfume. nothing no longer exchanged because everything had already be said with those few words. aran pulled back, looking into your eyes before closing your lips in a deep, heated kiss. eyes darting all over his face once he pulled back, “still staying with me tonight? so i can hold and kiss on you.”
“hm i don’t know.” hiding your smirk in his neck, trying to continue your pouty attitude, aran smacked his teeth rubbing his hands all over your curves. squeezing on the soft flesh of your ass. “c’mon mama, come home with me.” you sighed, giving him a soft smile. mind set on giving him a hard time the rest of the night as he tries to make it up to you but not even five minutes passed in his room before you were puddy in his arms.
your anklets dangling next your ear while aran folded you up in his bed, ready to split you open. your whines sounding off the walls as his heavy dick slapped down on your throbbing clit. “looka that wet ass pussy..” running it through your slit and teasing your entrance with his tip before sinking into you deep, eyes rolling back with a moan as he caressed your sweet spot within. aran watching the white ring form around the base from how eagerly you sucked him in. keeping that steady pace that had you leaking for him, your hand pushing at his pelvis to keep him from going too deep, only for him to remove it and place it on your lower belly. pushing it down for you to feel him fucking you in ways you’ve never felt before. “feel me huh? m’ all yours mama, this yo dick.”
“ain’t no reason to trip”
your back arching into his at the deep slow pace he maintained, making sure you feel every single inch he gave you. stretching and filling you full while his thumb circled your clit and setting the fire in the pit of your stomach ablaze, legs shaking in his hold. “o-ohhh my g-goddd, paaa.” his eyes flickering from your pooling mess to your glazed over eyes, moaning at how you clenched down on him. “i know baby, i know..”
oncoming orgasm swelling your walls and trying to push him out. “open up for daddy.” slowly hardening his thrust, hips slamming against your pelvis with precision. moans catching in your throat as aran watches your pretty brown breast bounce in his hold, nipples hard and erect from the cool air against your scorching skin. aran wrapping a strong hand around your neck leaning in and giving you a sloppy kiss, slipping his tongue in your mouth and swallowing every moan you let out for him. aran pulled back with a smirk, lips red and wet from the kiss. “you still mad at me..?” you came hard, creamy arousal coating his dick and pelvis. aran slowly stroking you through your orgasm with a smile.
Your Big Dick Ex-Boyfriend knows exactly how to get to you. 😋🍆 (Hi my beautiful loves. 🌸 I am very rusty. So please go easy on me lol.)
Having an ex-boyfriend like Rafe wasn’t easy. He was arrogant, got angry at the littlest things, and never thought he did anything wrong. It was after a fight over something so stupid that you left because you knew it was never going to change with him. You could no longer tip toe around him , deal with his extremely particular behavior or the fact he was the cockiness man alive. However, there was one thing about him you couldn’t seem to let go. That was he had a huge wiener. You were talking third leg type of shit.
It had been almost a month since you had left the apartment the two of you shared and he hadn’t let up still. You had blocked him on everything. His number, instagram, even Facebook messenger. You were convinced he was crazy. You had been staying with your cousin Kiara, doing your best to go on about life and forget Rafe Cameron ever existed. A girl can only go so long though without sex, watching porn and using your toys were not cutting it anymore. All you could think about was one thing.
A night out with the girls and too much Tequila in your system had you unblocking his number by the end of the night. You texted him, told him how much you missed his dick, and since he had huge ego he of course thrived off of you unblocking him just to have you blowing up his phone telling about how much you wanted him to pound your pussy. How he had the biggest dick ever.
It was the next morning when your head was pounding that you picked up your phone after hearing a text notification followed by another one. You unlocked it, your text thread with Rafe pulling up. You cursed, seeing the last two things he had sent you. A mirror selfie of him, black t-shirt reading Cameron Development, lifted up to expose his tight abs. His khaki work pants unbuttoned and unzipped, heavy cock hanging out as he gripped it one hand. He wasn’t even hard yet and it was massive. You bit your lower lip, reading the next message.
“Let me come pound your pussy out before I go to work.”
You knew as soon as you said okay that it was over with. He’d come fuck you and you’d be moving back in with him that day. As toxic as this shit was you were addicted to him.
“Kiara is here.” You texted back watching as the bubbles came up almost immediately.
“Then you better be fucking quiet. I’ll be there in 10.”
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Mingi is very good at pretending he’s normal about the way you flirt with clients for tips, about the way you touch other people for a living. The problem starts when he realizes you might not belong to him at all, and suddenly he’s pinned against the wall confessing feelings far too big to keep inside anymore.
Pairing: sub!Mingi x TattooArtistFem!Reader
Tropes: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pinning, Confession under pressure, Soft masculinity, “He’s so big but so soft for her”.
Genre: Smut, Fluff, Romance.
Warnings: explicit sexual content, sub!mingi, sexual tension, sexual activity in a semi-public workspace, praise kink, dry humping, male orgasm, possessive thoughts, touch-starved behaviour, jealousy, mild choking, explicit language, alcohol, emotional dependency but make it hot
Word Count: 7.7k
a/n: this fic wouldn’t exist without a conversation with @darjeelinglemontea. it was just one thing she said, but it stuck with me and turned into this. thank you for that, i really hope you like where it ended up <3 also sorry for disappearing. i’m deep in a project and barely find time to write, but i needed to get this out anyway before vanishing again for a bit longer haha
masterlist
Your studio hums softly around you. Low music. Warm light. The familiar buzz of the tattoo machine steady in your hand like a second heartbeat.
Outside, the street beyond the front windows is already dark, neon signs reflecting faintly against the glass. Your last appointment of the night stretched later than planned, the rest of the building long since quiet.
The smell of antiseptic and ink clings to the air, clean but intimate in a way most places never are. People let you touch them here. Let you get close enough to hear the change in their breathing, to feel tension beneath their skin before they even notice it themselves.
You’ve always liked that part.
“Breathe out,” you murmur.
Your client obeys immediately.
He’s stretched beneath the lamp, shirt tossed somewhere behind him, skin warm under your hand where you steady him by the waist. The tattoo curves along his ribs in clean black lines, and you lean closer to finish a careful stroke, thumb pressing lightly into his side to keep him still.
He sucks in a sharp breath.
“There,” you say softly. “Relax.”
“You say that every five minutes.”
“And somehow you still trust me.”
He laughs under his breath, eyes dragging down to your mouth for a second too long. “Hard not to.”
You ignore that easily. You’ve heard versions of it a thousand times before. You wipe excess ink from his ribs.
His gaze flicks down to your hands again. “You always this nice to clients?”
“You’re paying me.”
“Could charge extra. I’d still come back.”
The bell above the studio door jingles softly. You don’t look up immediately. You know who walked in anyway. The heavy steps. The careless confidence of someone who’s been here enough times to stop asking permission for anything. The fridge opening.
“Beer tax,” Mingi calls from the back.
Your mouth curves before you can stop it.
“Get your own studio.”
“You’d miss me.”
You don’t answer. Because you would. Terribly.
Instead you lean closer to inspect the tattoo, fingers spreading against your client’s stomach as you stretch the skin carefully beneath the needle.
From behind you, the couch creaks, and you finally glance back at him.
Big hoodie. Work boots still on. Slouched deep into the couch cushions like he lives there. Watching you over the rim of the bottle with that lazy heavy-lidded stare that always does something unfortunate to your nervous system.
He comes here almost every night after work.
At first it had been accidental. Quick stops before heading home. Then takeout between appointments. Then sitting with you while you cleaned your station at midnight. Then coffee appearing beside your machine before you could ask for it.
Somewhere along the way, your studio started feeling wrong without him in it. Somewhere along the way, you started falling in love with him. Quietly. Stupidly.
Because Mingi is like this with everyone. Warm. Affectionate. Easy with touch. The kind of person who leans into you when he laughs and throws an arm around your shoulders without thinking. The kind of person who makes you feel chosen even when you probably aren’t.
So you buried it under routine and late-night beers and the hoodies he keeps leaving behind in your studio chair. Under the certainty that none of this would ever become more.
Your client shifts slightly beneath your hand. “You know,” he says, “if I met you somewhere else, I’d think you were flirting with me.”
You drag the needle into a clean line. “That sounds like a you problem.”
“I’m serious.” His smile turns crooked. “Soft voice. Hand on my waist. Eye contact. It’s confusing.”
“You came to a tattoo appointment.”
“Yeah, but you’re making it hard to stay professional.”
Mingi sets his beer down a little too hard against the table. You glance back automatically. He’s staring at the floor now, jaw tight for half a second before he notices you looking.
“What?” he says.
“Nothing.”
Your client looks between both of you once, then keeps talking. Unbothered. As if Mingi isn’t watching his every word.
“No, but seriously,” he says, looking at you again. “You’ve got dangerous energy.”
“Dangerous.”
“Yeah. Like you flirt for fun and ruin lives accidentally.”
You laugh softly through your nose.
But Mingi doesn’t. He should. He could. He usually does.
Instead his eyes keep lifting every time your hand settles against the client’s ribs. He goes quiet whenever the client calls you sweet. He keeps trying to insert himself into the conversation and failing to catch your attention the same way the client does.
And underneath all of it, something uncomfortable starts pulling tighter in his chest. Because the client gets your teasing. Your soft voice. Your hands all over him. And Mingi suddenly can’t stop wondering if that’s just who you are with everybody.
The rest of the session passes normally. Mostly. Your client keeps trying.
“You gonna miss me when I’m gone?”
You smooth the wrap carefully against his ribs. “I’ll think about you sometimes.”
“Damn. Sometimes?”
“Don’t get greedy.”
He laughs again, completely charmed by you in the way men always are.
And every time you touch him, Mingi notices. Not angry. Not even resentful. Just painfully aware. Like hearing your favorite song playing from somebody else’s car.
By the time the tattoo’s paid for, the studio feels strangely dense. Your client grabs his jacket, already backing toward the door.
“Same time next week?”
“We’ll see if you survive this one first.”
“I survived because you were gentle.”
Something shifts in Mingi’s jaw. The client notices immediately. A grin spreads slowly across his face.
“Tell your boyfriend thanks for the emotional support.”
The door closes before either of you can answer. Silence spills into the studio after him. The buzzing needle’s gone now. The music suddenly sounds louder. Slower.
From the corner of your eye, you catch Mingi pushing himself off the couch. He flips the sign on the front door to CLOSED before sliding the lock into place with a quiet click. Then he walks toward you.
You start cleaning your station, peeling off gloves and reaching for disinfectant.
Usually Mingi waits for you to drift back toward him naturally. Tonight he comes to you instead. You feel him before he speaks. Close enough that your body notices immediately.
“So,” you say lightly, wiping down the tattoo bed, “my boyfriend, huh?”
Mingi nearly chokes on his beer. You glance over just in time to catch the way his eyes widen above the bottle.
“He was joking,” he says too fast.
“You seem stressed for someone who’s definitely not my boyfriend.”
“I’m not stressed.”
You hum like you totally believe him.
Mingi reaches past you for the paper towels at the exact same moment you turn. His chest brushes your shoulder. Tiny contact. Barely anything. Still, his hand lands automatically at your waist to steady you.
Your stomach flips immediately.
Neither of you moves. Then his thumb shifts once against your side before he pulls away like he only just realized where his hand is.
“You were very attentive with him,” he says casually.
You glance sideways at him.
“It’s my job.”
“Hm.”
Not convinced.
He leans against the edge of the bed while you keep cleaning, entirely too close for someone pretending to be normal right now. His knee knocks yours once.
“You know,” he says, “I’ve been thinking about getting another tattoo.”
You snort softly. “You complain through every appointment.”
The answer slips out so easily you almost miss it. Almost.
Your mouth curls before you can stop it. That seems to make him realize he said it out loud, because he looks away immediately, rubbing at the back of his neck while you reach for the petroleum jelly beside him.
His hand catches your wrist first. Lightly. You freeze.
“There,” he murmurs, thumb brushing across the inside of your wrist. “Ink.”
Your breath catches a little stupidly.
Mingi has always touched you easily. Like affection is something that lives in his hands naturally. This doesn’t feel careless. This feels slow. Aware.
His thumb drags once more before he lets go. Neither of you pulls away right away.
“That guy was flirting with you.”
You tilt your head. “You think?”
Mingi gives you a flat look.
“He literally asked for your number.”
“And?”
“And you flirt back.”
You blink. “I don’t.”
“You absolutely do.”
That lands heavier than it should. Like he’s been holding onto it longer than just tonight. You turn fully toward him, arms folding loosely.
“Oh my god,” you say slowly. “You’re jealous.”
“No.”
Immediate. Too immediate.
“You are.”
“I’m really not.”
“But you don’t like it.”
“I don’t care.”
“You looked ready to bite through drywall because he called me dangerous.”
“That’s because he sounded ridiculous.”
You laugh before you can stop yourself. Mingi’s eyes narrow slightly.
“There,” he says immediately. “That.”
“What?”
“That. You do that with everybody.”
“Do what?”
“That—” He gestures vaguely at you. “That thing.”
You stare at him for two full seconds. Then burst out laughing. Mingi groans instantly, dragging both hands down his face.
“Forget I said anything.”
“No, no,” you say, stepping closer. “I want details. What thing?”
“I hate you.”
“That’s not very boyfriend of you.”
His head snaps up so fast it almost makes you grin.
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
Maybe you are. Because suddenly everything from tonight rearranges itself perfectly in your head. The hovering. The watching. The way he kept interrupting. The way his eyes tracked your hands every time you touched the client.
And now this.
Song Mingi, who walks through life like nothing rattles him, suddenly can’t even look at you properly.
You should let him recover. You don’t. Instead, you step closer. Slow enough that he notices. Close enough that his attention snaps back to you immediately.
Now there’s barely space left between you.
Your hand lifts automatically toward the silver chain half-hidden beneath the collar of his hoodie, the pendant twisted awkwardly into the fabric. You hook two fingers under it, easing it free, then straighten it against his chest. A small gesture. Almost domestic.
Your knuckles brush warm skin where the chain slips under his shirt.
Mingi freezes. Not dramatically. Just enough for you to feel it.
“You’re touchy today,” he says softly.
“You started it.”
“Did I?”
“Mhm.”
Your fingers trail once along the chain before falling away. He watches every second of it. Like your hands are speaking a language he’s trying desperately to translate before it disappears.
A reluctant smile threatens at the corner of his mouth again, weaker now. Distracted by the fact you’re still standing too close.
“How many clients leave here thinking you’re into them?”
You blink once. “Excuse me?”
“I’m serious.” His jaw shifts faintly. “You look at people like that and then act surprised when they start falling in love with you.”
The sentence lands hard enough to knock the air slightly out of your lungs. Because he says it like an accusation. But underneath it, there’s something rawer. Softer. Something dangerously close to confession.
Your mouth twitches despite yourself. “It gets me better tips.”
“Right.” He glances away briefly. “Cool.” Then, quieter, “you flirt with me for free.”
Mingi’s eyes widen slightly like he physically felt the words leave his mouth and wants to grab them out of the air.
You blink once. Then tilt your head.
“…Do I?”
His ears turn red instantly. Actually red. And that’s new enough to make warmth bloom low in your stomach.
“I just mean,” he says quickly, taking half a step back, “you’re naturally like that. With everyone.”
“With everyone?”
“Yeah.”
You follow him when he steps back. Not enough to scare him. Just enough to make him realize you noticed.
“And you hate it?”
“No.” Too fast again. “I mean. Not hate. I just don’t like watching people flirt with you.”
The words slide warm and heavy into the room. Your heartbeat stumbles.
“Oh,” you say softly.
Mingi laughs once, humorless around the edges. “Yeah. Oh.”
Another step back from him. Another forward from you. The rhythm becomes almost absurd. Mingi retreating inch by inch while you slowly invade every space he gives up. Like he’s trying to survive this conversation and you’re trying to see how long until he breaks.
“I just think,” he says carefully, “most people don’t pay attention properly.”
“And you do.”
He hesitates. Then nods once. Small. Honest.
God.
The air suddenly feels too thick in your lungs.
“I know when you’re tired before you admit it,” he says quietly. “I know you pretend to hate sweet drinks but steal mine every time. I know you stop talking when something’s actually wrong.” His voice softens. “I know you hum when you tattoo.”
Your chest tightens painfully.
Mingi keeps talking now like he can’t stop once he’s started.
“I know which clients piss you off before they even sit down. I know you clean your station twice when you’re stressed. I know you act meaner when you’re embarrassed.”
Your lips twitch despite yourself.
“And I know,” he says, finally looking at you again, “that you flirt with people when you want them comfortable. But it doesn’t feel the same when you do it to me.”
The room goes quiet. Not empty. Heavy. Your heart is beating so hard now it almost feels embarrassing.
“Mingi…”
He keeps backing up as he talks. You keep moving forward. Until eventually his back brushes the wall near the hallway leading to the back room. Trapped. His breath catches slightly.
He tries to shift forward again on instinct. He can’t. Because you’re still there. Not crowding. Just close enough that the space he needs is gone. He’s actually stuck. Not metaphorically. Not dramatically. Just physically there, pinned between the wall and you.
His breath turns shallow.
And suddenly you realize he’s actually nervous. Not teasing nervous. Not playful nervous. Real nervous. Mingi, who flirts with strangers like breathing and walks through every room like he belongs there, is looking at you like one wrong sentence might crack him open completely.
The realization sends warmth blooming painfully through your chest.
“I think about you too much,” he blurts suddenly.
The words hang there between you. Honest. Unpolished. Mingi winces immediately after saying them like he regrets how revealing they sound. But he keeps going anyway.
“Like… an embarrassing amount, actually.” His eyes flick away again. “At work. On my way home. I see things and think you’d laugh at them. Or hate them. Or make fun of them for being ugly.”
Your lips twitch helplessly.
“And then you flirt with random guys in front of me and suddenly I’m sitting on your couch acting like a fucking psycho because some dude called your hands magic.”
The laugh that escapes you is soft. Warm. Fond enough to make his face flush deeper.
“I’m serious,” he mutters weakly.
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
That lands differently. The air shifts with it. Mingi swallows hard, debating whether to say the next thought out loud.
“I…” His voice catches briefly. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”
You stare at him for a second longer than necessary. Like you’re enjoying this more than you should.
“You said that out loud,” you murmur.
Mingi groans again, covering his face briefly. “I know.”
The words leave him too easily. You see the exact moment he realizes that. Mingi drops his hands from his face slowly, looking at you now with this exhausted kind of honesty that almost hurts to look at.
“And the worst part,” he says more quietly, “is that I don’t even think it’s just a crush anymore.”
Something deep in your chest folds in on itself. Because his voice changes in that sentence. Softer. Heavier. Deeper. Like he didn’t mean to admit that part out loud.
“I think…” He exhales shakily, eyes finally lifting fully to yours. “I think somewhere along the way you became the first person I look for everywhere.”
The room goes completely still. No music. No neon outside. No buzzing lights overhead. Just him, and the way he’s looking at you like he’s just handed you something fragile with both hands and doesn’t know what you’re going to do with it.
You should say something. You should probably breathe. Instead, you step closer. Slow enough that he notices immediately.
His eyes widen slightly. A flicker of confusion first. Then something sharper, like he’s just realized the distance is disappearing.
Your hand catches lightly in the strings of his hoodie, fingers curling there as you guide him back into the wall behind him. Not rough. Just certain.
The soft thud of it stops his breath for half a second. His shoulders hit first. Then stillness.
Mingi blinks up at you, wide-eyed now. Caught off guard in a way that makes him look younger, softer. Like his brain is a beat behind his body catching up to the fact that he’s not moving anymore.
Trapped, but gently so.
The realization flashes across his face in real time:
Oh.
Your hand stays at his chest, twisting the soft fabric once around your fingers. And for the first time since he walked into your studio tonight, Mingi has absolutely nothing left to hide behind.
No jokes. No easy grin. Just wide dark eyes and a pulse hammering visibly in his throat beneath your touch.
He stares at you like you’ve just pulled the floor out from under him.
“…You have to stop looking at me like that.”
His voice barely survives the sentence. Low. Rough around the edges. Like every nerve in his body is pulled too tight beneath your hands.
You tilt your head slightly, still twisting the drawstring between your fingers.
“Like what?”
Mingi shuts his eyes for one dangerous second. Like he physically can’t withstand this much of you at once. When he opens them again, there’s only helpless honesty bleeding through every crack.
“You know,” he says quietly.
“Explain it to me.”
A shaky breath leaves him.
“It’s just…” His eyes flick helplessly between yours. “You keep looking at me like you already know every stupid thing I’m trying to say before I say it.”
Your pulse stumbles.
“And it’s making me insane because I had this whole speech in my head on the drive here and now you’re standing this close and I can’t remember any of it anymore.”
A laugh threatens at the corner of your mouth.
“Mingi—”
“No, wait.” He shakes his head quickly, words starting to tumble out faster now. “I’m serious. I was gonna do this properly. I had actual thoughts. Like coherent ones.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.” His ears are pink now. “And now all I can think about is your mouth.”
That almost breaks you immediately. Mingi realizes what he just admitted and groans softly, the back of his head nearly knocking against the wall behind him.
“See? This is exactly what I mean.”
“You’re doing great.”
“I’m literally not.”
You smile despite the violent rhythm of your heartbeat. Because this is what you’ve wanted for so long. Not perfection. Not some polished confession. Just him. Big hands flexing uselessly at his sides. Voice falling apart mid-sentence. Looking at you like wanting you has become unbearable to carry alone.
His eyes snap back to yours instantly. And that does it.
Because Mingi has always looked enormous next to you. Broad shoulders. Height that swallows space when he walks into a room. But right now? Right now he’s melting under your fingertips. And the realization floods through you like heat.
You step even closer. Until his breath catches against your mouth. Until the wall is the only thing keeping him upright.
“I just…” His voice catches again. “I really like you.”
The sentence lands between you soft and devastating. And suddenly kissing him feels less like a decision and more like instinct. So you do. Fast. Sudden. Like finally giving in to gravity after fighting it for months.
Mingi freezes instantly. A sharp inhale catches hard in his chest the second your lips touch his. For half a heartbeat he doesn’t move at all. Like his brain genuinely stopped working. Then his hands hit your waist. Hard. Not rough. Desperate.
A wrecked sound tears out of him somewhere between a gasp and a whimper as he melts forward into you all at once, like the kiss physically knocked the strength out of his body.
You kiss him harder immediately. Months of swallowed wanting snapping loose at once.
Mingi tries to follow too fast, too overwhelmed already, and his head knocks lightly against the wall behind him with a soft curse breathed straight into your mouth.
“Fuck,” he whispers against your lips.
You laugh softly into the kiss.
“You talk too much.”
“I was trying to…”
Another kiss cuts him off.
“I know.”
Mingi makes that sound again. That helpless little exhale that seems to punch straight through your ribs.
His hands finally settle at your hips, huge and shaky and warm through your clothes. Not controlling. Just holding on. Like he’s afraid this might disappear if he loosens his grip.
You pull back barely enough to look at him. His lips are flushed already, swollen and wet from your mouth. Eyes blown wide and dazed beneath messy dark hair.
He looks ruined. By a kiss.
The realization sends another pulse of heat straight through you.
“Mingi,” you whisper.
He visibly swallows. You brush your thumb against his jaw and he leans into it immediately without thinking. That almost undoes you.
“You don’t get it,” he says suddenly, breath uneven.
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t when you keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me like you want to eat me alive.”
You smile slightly. “Maybe I do.”
His entire body reacts. A shiver runs through him so obvious you feel it beneath your palms.
A laugh slips out of you before you can stop it.
Mingi’s forehead drops briefly against yours with a quiet groan, like even hearing you laugh right now is too much for him.
“You make everything worse,” he blurts suddenly.
You blink once. “Excuse me?”
“I mean good worse,” he says quickly. “Jesus Christ.”
His forehead bumps yours again, embarrassed.
“I’ll be fine all day. Totally normal. And then you smile at me once and suddenly I can’t think straight for hours.”
Your expression softens before you can stop it. Mingi notices immediately. You can see the exact second he realizes he said too much. But instead of retreating this time, he exhales shakily and lets his forehead stay pressed to yours.
“It’s not just this,” he says quietly. “It’s never just this with you.”
Your fingers loosen against his hoodie. The teasing drains out of you slowly, replaced by something warmer. Deeper. Aching.
“Then what is it?” you whisper.
Mingi’s eyes close. And for a moment he just breathes against you. Like he’s spent months holding this inside his chest and doesn’t know how to survive finally letting it out.
Then, barely above a murmur:
“It’s you.” Your heart stumbles violently. “It’s always been you.”
That one nearly steals your breath. You kiss him again before he can recover from saying it. Slower this time. Intentional. And he melts properly. No hesitation left now.
Mingi makes this quiet, wrecked sound into your mouth like the kiss physically knocks the air out of him. His hands tighten at your waist for a second before one of them slides higher, tentative at first. Like he’s not fully sure he’s allowed.
Your breath catches when his fingertips slip beneath the hem of your shirt at the small of your back. Warm skin against warm skin.
Mingi shudders immediately at the contact. You feel it happen under your hands.
The kiss breaks for half a second on his end, like his brain short-circuits from touching you there, but then he’s kissing you again instantly. Hungrier now. Still soft, still careful, but with this desperate edge underneath it that makes your pulse stumble hard.
His hand spreads slowly against your lower back beneath your shirt. Huge. Shaky. His fingertips drag upward inch by inch along your spine like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you through touch alone.
The sensation sends heat straight through your chest.
“Mingi,” you breathe against his mouth.
That sound almost ruins him. A helpless exhale leaves him as his forehead bumps yours briefly before he kisses you again, deeper this time. Like hearing his name in your voice just dissolved whatever restraint he had left.
He keeps touching you carefully. That’s the dangerous part. Not greedy. Not rough. Just unbearably attentive. His fingertips trace lightly along your spine again and your entire body reacts before you can stop it. You feel him notice immediately in the way his breath stutters into the kiss.
“Oh my god,” he whispers against your lips, sounding dazed. “You felt that.”
You hate how much your stomach flips at the shaky little note of wonder in his voice.
“Keep kissing me,” you murmur.
He obeys instantly. Like reflex. Like he’d do anything you asked right now.
Every sound you make wrecks him further. You can feel it happening in real time.
The little breathless noises he keeps losing into your mouth. The way his hand trembles slightly against your back every time you kiss him deeper. Every time you pull back half an inch, Mingi follows immediately like instinct. Like distance physically hurts now that he’s had you this close.
Your hands slide fully into his hair now, tugging lightly at the roots.
A shaky sound breaks out of him immediately. You feel it against your tongue.
“Fuck,” he whispers again, ruined already.
One of his hands stays spread beneath your shirt, warm against the center of your back. The other slides up suddenly, almost clumsy with urgency, until his fingers bury into the hair at the back of your head.
Then he kisses you deeper. Not confident this time. Needy. Like he can’t get close enough anymore.
Your breath catches softly against his mouth. One of your hands stays tangled in his hair while the other drifts slowly down his arm, fingertips tracing the hard curve of his bicep beneath his hoodie sleeve before sliding higher again. Over his shoulder. Around the back of his neck. Up along his jaw.
Mingi visibly shivers when your thumb brushes beneath his ear. You feel his hand flex hard against your spine beneath your shirt. Like he doesn’t know what to do with how badly he wants to touch you.
You kiss the corner of his mouth. His jaw. The warm skin beneath his ear.
Mingi’s head tips back against the wall automatically, exposing more of his throat with a helpless inhale that nearly destroys your composure entirely.
“There you are,” you murmur softly against his skin.
A wrecked sound leaves him immediately. Not even words anymore.
“You have any idea,” you breathe between kisses, “how hard this has been for me?”
Mingi goes still for half a second.
You pull back just enough to look at him. His lips are parted now. Eyes dark and blown wide beneath messy hair. Completely wrecked.
“I mean it.” Your forehead presses against his again. “You take care of me without even thinking about it. You show up every single time. You make every room feel safer just by walking into it.”
His hands are shaking now. Actually shaking.
“And you have been driving me insane for months,” you confess softly. “So don’t stand here acting shocked because I finally kissed you.”
A wrecked laugh breaks out of him, immediately swallowed by another desperate kiss.
Your mouths keep finding each other between breaths, between half-finished sentences, between tiny overwhelmed sounds neither of you can hide anymore.
Everything feels overheated and too close and slightly off balance.
Then suddenly his kiss falters. Not because he pulls away. Because his body gives out first. A rough breath punches out of him against your mouth as his knees buckle unexpectedly beneath him.
“Mingi—”
Your hands grab for him immediately, trying to steady him, but he’s already sliding down the wall in one overwhelmed motion, dragging you with him instinctively. One hand catches hard at your waist while the other slips from your hair, fumbling clumsily for balance that clearly no longer exists.
“Wait, wait—”
A helpless laugh breaks out of him mid-collapse.
Your knees hit the hardwood on either side of his thighs as he lands heavily against the wall with a stunned exhale. Boots scraping awkwardly against the floorboards. Long limbs everywhere at once. Completely uncoordinated now.
For one messy second, neither of you knows where to put your bodies.
Then stillness.
Mingi’s chest heaves beneath you. Your brows knit immediately. Concern flashes through you first.
“Min?”
He shakes his head once quickly. Not hurt. Just catastrophically overwhelmed.
You can see it everywhere. The violent flush spread down his throat. The dazed look in his eyes. The way his hand is still under your shirt like he forgot it was there entirely.
And something about it feels almost surreal. Song Mingi. All sharp height and broad shoulders and effortless confidence. Reduced to this because you kissed him.
“…Did your legs just give out?”
“No,” he says immediately.
“They literally folded.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re on the floor.”
“So are you.”
The comeback would land better if he wasn’t staring up at you like he’s moments away from short-circuiting completely.
And then you feel it. The thick, hard press of him beneath the dark denim where you landed directly on his lap. Heavy and unmistakable, pressing right up between your legs through your clothes. Fuck. He feels as big as he carries himself, maybe bigger.
Your breath catches slightly. Mingi notices instantly. A mortified sound leaves him.
“Don’t start,” he says quickly.
You look back up slowly. “…Start what?”
“That face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you realize things.”
Your mouth twitches immediately. His throat bobs hard.
You feel his fingers flex under your shirt instinctively before his nails drag lightly down your back in one slow scrape that makes your entire body jolt.
Fuck.
Mingi notices that too. His eyes darken immediately.
“I’m trying so hard to be normal right now,” he whispers.
The honesty of it nearly knocks the air out of you. Because he sounds wrecked. Not cocky. Not teasing. Just overwhelmed down to the bone. Still holding onto you like letting go would physically kill him.
Your eyes flick briefly to the way his hands are gripping you now. One spread hot against your spine beneath your shirt. The other tight on your waist. Strong enough to leave bruises. Shaking anyway.
Something hot curls low in your stomach at the sight. You can feel the strength coiled in him, the way he could easily lift you, pin you, take control if he wanted to. But he doesn't. He just looks up at you like he’s dying from how much he wants you.
When your hips shift experimentally against his, his reaction is immediate. A broken sound tears out of his throat as his head falls back toward the wall.
Your hand catches it before it can hit too hard, fingers tightening at the base of his neck as you cushion the impact instinctively.
Mingi melts instantly beneath your touch. His eyes squeeze shut for one second as your fingers tighten slightly in his hair. His grip spasms hard against your waist.
You bite your lip, suppressing your own sounds at the way he reacts so fast, so visibly, like every nerve in his body is wired directly into your hands.
“Oh my god,” you whisper, almost fascinated now. “I broke you.”
"Shut up," he breathes instantly, voice cracking.
Your laugh brushes warm against his mouth. Mingi’s eyes open again immediately, locking onto you like he’s afraid to miss a second of this.
And suddenly your concern dissolves into something hotter. Because he looks huge beneath you. Broad chest rising hard beneath his hoodie. Big hands gripping your body like he can’t stop himself. Thick thighs spread under yours. But none of that changes the fact he’s completely unraveling for you right now.
You tug his hair again, sharper this time. A wrecked sound punches out of him immediately.
“There he is,” you murmur softly. “My good boy.”
“Please don’t say things like that.”
“Why?”
“Because I already can’t think.”
His fingers scratch lightly down your spine again, rougher now, and the sensation shoots heat straight through your stomach. You feel him twitch between your legs, the pressure catching your clit perfectly even through denim, and you have to swallow your own moan down before it escapes.
You grin instead. Then you kiss him again.
And whatever control he had left finally snaps. His hand fists suddenly in your hair while he tilts your head enough to deepen the kiss properly. Sloppier. Hungrier. He kisses you like he can’t get enough oxygen from anywhere else.
You drag your mouth down his jaw, over his throat, and Mingi immediately tips his head back for you again with a helpless sound, exposing more skin like instinct.
His head knocks toward the wall once more and you catch him again automatically, palm sliding behind his head while your other hand stays around his shoulders.
“There,” you murmur against his throat. “Careful.”
That almost makes him whine.
Your teeth scrape lightly over his pulse. Mingi’s hips jerk up involuntarily beneath you.
“Fuck,” he chokes out, hands tightening hard enough to drag you fully against him. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
He sounds terrified.
Your forehead brushes his gently, breath mingling between you while his entire body trembles underneath yours.
You kiss him again, slower now, while your hips move in tiny experimental rolls against his. Barely anything. Just enough friction to make his breathing fall apart completely.
He’s concentrating so hard you can see it in his face. Jaw clenched. Brows pinched slightly. Trying desperately not to cum on the spot from just this. He tries to slow you once, but he fails instantly when you press closer and another helpless, broken moan slips out of him into your mouth.
Then he’s moving too, dragging desperate open-mouthed kisses down your neck like he doesn’t know where to put all this wanting anymore.
His hands slide lower.
One stays beneath your shirt, fingers tracing your spine again and again like he’s addicted to the feeling of your skin.
The other grips your ass hard, dragging you tighter against him while his mouth presses sloppy kisses against your throat.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispers against your skin, voice wrecked beyond repair. "So fucking pretty, baby, look at you—"
You’ve never seen him like this before. Never seen him stop trying to perform strength. And maybe that’s why this feels so intimate it almost scares you. Because he’s letting you see every vulnerable part without fighting to hide them anymore.
“Mingi,” you murmur softly.
He looks at you immediately.
“You okay?”
A quick nod. Then, quieter, “don’t stop.”
Your thumb smooths gently across his cheek.
“I won’t.”
And that’s what finally breaks him open. You see it happen in real time. The exact second the last bit of distance leaves his face. The exact second he realizes this isn’t temporary. That you’re not going to pull away from him tomorrow and pretend none of this happened.
His forehead drops against your shoulder with a shaky exhale.
Then he kisses you again. Different this time. Slower. Still hungry, but softer around the edges, like he can’t decide whether to devour you or memorize you.
His hands roam more boldly now, your back, your waist, your hips, your ass, gripping like he keeps remembering he’s allowed to touch you like this.
Your knees ache against the hardwood, but you barely notice once he plants his boots against the floor and pulls you flush against him with one helpless pull of his hips.
The breath leaves both of you at once.
Suddenly there’s nowhere your body ends without running into his. Broad chest. Heavy thighs. Strong arms boxing you in, without feeling threatening for even a second.
That’s the thing that gets you. How big he is and how careful he still is with you anyway.
Your hand slides to his throat experimentally, fingers loose against his pulse. Mingi's eyes go dark instantly, pupils blown wide. He swallows against your palm. Breath catching hard enough you feel it against your mouth.
"Yeah?" you whisper.
He nods, fast and desperate. "Yes. Please."
The smallest increase in pressure tears a wrecked sound out of him, his head falling back against the wall. The sound goes straight between your legs.
After that, everything loses rhythm. Kisses turning sloppy. Breathing uneven. His hands gripping harder whenever you get too close.
His hips are thrusting up, rolling, seeking more friction, and you feel yourself getting wet just from the desperation in his movements. He's so hard it must hurt, straining against the denim, and when you grind down against him, he cries out, hands gripping your ass to try to make you move faster.
He realizes what he's doing halfway through and stills himself with visible effort, eyes squeezed shut like he’s trying to regain control.
“Wait,” he breathes roughly. “If you keep doing that, I’m not gonna last.”
The honesty of it sends heat curling low in your stomach.
And you're barely doing anything, but the fact that he's this close from almost nothing makes you want to feel him fall apart because he wants you that much.
You kiss him again, deep and filthy, and keep your movements light. Just small, teasing rolls of your hips.
"So pretty," he whines, "baby, you're so—fuck. Seriously. You're so beautiful, so hot, I can't—I can’t even look at you properly right now."
“You’re so cute,” you breathe against his mouth.
Your fingers slide softly through his hair again, gentler this time, scratching lightly at his scalp while his eyes flutter half-shut.
“That’s my pretty boy,” you whisper softly. “Trying so hard to hold it together.”
His face flushes deeper immediately.
“You’re doing so good for me, Min.”
That one finally ruins him.
His hips twitch up again, needy and involuntary, and you feel the damp heat spreading at the front of his jeans where he’s already leaking from almost nothing. The realization barely has time to settle before his whole body jolts beneath you.
A strangled grunt punches out of him.
His grip clamps hard around you so suddenly it knocks your balance backward. You catch yourself instinctively, palm slapping against the wall beside his head before either of you can crack into it.
Mingi goes tense all at once, hips stuttering up into yours before he buries his face instantly into your neck with a sharp gasp, biting down hard enough to muffle the wrecked sound that follows.
And then he’s coming. Fast. Sudden. Hard enough his whole body shudders under you.
For the first time all night, he stops holding himself back. His arms lock tight around you as he pushes himself off the wall just enough to drag you with him, forcing you to tilt back slightly in his grip while he shakes through it. Like he physically needs you closer to survive it.
Your arms loop around his neck automatically to steady both of you, one hand sliding into his hair, fingers spreading against the back of his head to keep him tucked against your throat while he rides it out.
You feel every pulse through the denim between you. The hot spread of wetness. The helpless way his body betrayed him from almost nothing except your mouth, your weight against him, your hand at his throat.
His hips jerk once more before he folds inward completely, trembling against your neck, breathing ragged through clenched teeth while he tries desperately to hide how easily he came.
Then nothing. No movement. No sound except his uneven breathing against your skin.
You blink once, heat rushing straight through you at what just happened. At how little it took. At how desperately his body gave in the second you told him what he wanted to hear.
“Mingi.”
A horrified groan muffles straight into your neck.
You bite back a laugh instantly. Not mean. Never mean. Just unbearably fond. Because this man. This man who walked in here trying to act normal about being in love with you is now actively attempting to fuse himself into your shoulder to avoid eye contact.
You shift slightly, trying to look at him. He follows immediately, burying himself deeper against your neck.
“Mingi,” you repeat, softer now, fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Hey.”
A helpless smile spreads across your face as you press a kiss against his temple. He shudders under it instantly.
“Don’t look at me.”
That actually makes you laugh. Quiet and warm against his skin.
You coax his face back enough to look at him properly and nearly lose your mind all over again. Pink cheeks. Wet swollen lips. Eyes glassy and unfocused beneath messy hair. Completely wrecked.
And beneath you, you can still feel him, hot and sticky and probably uncomfortable as hell in his jeans, but making no move to fix it because that would mean acknowledging it.
“Shit,” he says immediately, mortified. “I’m sorry.”
That catches you off guard enough your expression softens instantly. Because he sounds embarrassed, yeah, but underneath it there’s sincerity too. Like he’s genuinely worried he ruined something.
“I was trying really hard not to cum,” he blurts, words tumbling out faster now that they’ve started. “I was trying to hold it together and then you kept kissing me and calling me pretty and I just—”
He cuts himself off with another groan, dragging a hand over his burning face.
“Min.” You wait until his eyes finally flick back to yours. “Why are you apologizing?”
His brows pull together slightly.
“…Because I came in my jeans like a teenager?”
You laugh softly. “And?”
“And we were literally just making out.”
You grin despite yourself, pulse still throbbing low and hot between your legs. Because honestly? The more you think about it, the more turned on you get.
Your hips shift unconsciously against him and Mingi sucks in a sharp breath immediately, eyes squeezing shut.
“Shit, sorry,” you murmur, fascinated. “Still sensitive?”
“Please have mercy on me.”
The shaky way he says it sends another pulse of heat straight through you. You lean in until your noses brush.
“You know this was hot, right?”
“That was hot to you? You’re not making fun of me?” he asks carefully.
Your heart actually aches a little.
“Mingi.” You brush your thumb over his cheekbone. “I’m trying very hard not to climb you again right now.”
“Oh my god.”
You kiss him again before he can get more embarrassed. Just a small one. Quick. Soft.
Mingi exhales into your mouth immediately, shoulders dropping another inch. There’s something dangerously addictive about it. Like the second you kissed him, his body decided hiding anything from you was impossible.
Your gaze drops again before you can stop it. Right between his legs. And right on cue, he shifts under you again and you feel it. Hard again. Twitching faintly beneath the damp denim. Still reacting to every little thing you do.
You pull back barely enough to look at him. “You’re kidding. You’re hard again?”
Mingi groans immediately. “Don’t say it out loud.”
Your laugh spills warm against his skin. He shivers hard at the sound. His hips shift unconsciously like he’s trying to relieve pressure and instantly regrets it when the denim drags against him.
Mingi must see something change in your face, because his breathing catches again immediately.
“Can you stop looking at me like you’re about to climb inside my ribcage?” he whispers.
You grin. “No.”
Mingi groans. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“…No. I really don’t.”
You laugh again and finally climb off his lap. Your knees ache faintly when you stand, but the sight in front of you almost takes you back out again.
Mingi looks ruined. Hoodie twisted crooked from your hands. Lips bitten red. Dark stain obvious across his jeans now no matter how he tries to angle himself away from it.
You bite your lip softly and hold your hand out toward him.
“C’mon.”
He blinks up at you. “…Where?”
Your smirk sharpens just slightly.
“You’re a mess,” you say, pointedly glancing at his lap before meeting his eyes again.
His face goes red all over again.
“Besides…” Your voice softens. “I don’t think I’m done with you yet.”
Mingi goes completely still. Then his fingers tighten around yours hard enough to feel it.
“Cool,” he says faintly. “Awesome. Great. Yeah,” he says quietly, standing now, towering close enough to steal the air from your lungs again. “You have no idea what you just started.”
Your stomach flips embarrassingly hard at the look on his face now.
“That sounds threatening.”
“It is.”
You open your mouth to answer, but Mingi kisses you first. Slow enough to distract you completely. Which is exactly why you don’t notice him crouching until the floor disappears beneath you.
“Wait, wha—”
A squeak bursts out of you as Mingi hooks an arm behind your legs and lifts you clean over his shoulder in one smooth motion.
“Mingi!”
He laughs against your startled noise as he playfully smacks your thigh before he starts walking toward the bathroom like carrying you around like this is the most natural thing in the world.
“Oh, now you’re shy?” he teases.
Heat rushes straight to your face. “Put me down.”
“No.”
He punctuates it with another slap against your ass that makes you gasp so loudly he nearly folds over laughing himself.
“You were talking real brave five minutes ago.”
You bury your burning face against the back of his hoodie while his laugh rumbles warm through your legs.
“You let me recover. Rookie mistake,” he says, opening the bathroom door. “You’re gonna regret giving me confidence.”
SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ When you enter the Love Island villa as a bombshell, you spark an instant, high-stakes connection with the intense and complicated Rafe Cameron. As you navigate each others web of secrets, messy betrayals, and jealous rivals, you must decide if your undeniable chemistry is a genuine match or just a casualty of the game...
WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, smut, mentions of past relationships, suggestive content, mentions of addiction, circumstantial cheating/infidelity, general LI drama, arguments, mentions of mental health, drinking, more detailed warnings for each individual chapter
SERIES TAG NAV‧₊˚ #fic analysis☀️ | #sotb | #mailbox:sotb
some quick (kinda important) notes
EPISODES
The Deep End (Day 1+2) | tweets
2. Muggy Mornings and Moonlit Pasts (Day 3+4) | tweets
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: a scene/quotes from wolf of wall street, use of y/n
the late afternoon sun bled across the neatly manicured garden of the cameron estate, painting every surface with a warm, expensive glow. trimmed hedges framed the sprawling lawn. the stone patio beneath rafe’s feet was warm, the ice in his glass melting slower than time.
he sat back in the custom-built teakwood chair, perfectly angled toward the view — aka, a direct line of sight into the open-concept living room through the wide patio doors.
topper and kelce lounged across from him, both already on their second bourbon, laughing loud over some story that didn’t matter anymore. it had been a year since the three of them sat together without a time limit. rafe had peeled away from nights out and golf trips, instead he buried himself in expansion projects and investor dinners but more than anything, focusing on his family.
topper leaned forward, swirling the ice in his glass. “how’s your wife, y/n? how’s she doing?”
rafe smirked, tipping his chin toward the open sliding doors behind him. “that’s her in the house there,” he said, like it was obvious. “you could say hi, but she probably won’t wave back.”
kelce raised a brow, following the direction of rafe’s gaze. inside, you stood near the kitchen island, one hand holding your phone to your ear, the other delicately fixing the clasp on a diamond-studded earring. your pink shirt clung to your hips, the white shirt fitted perfectly. your outfit screamed expensive. your hair was clipped back in a half-up bun that screamed effortlessness. your legs were bare, skin glossed, toes painted that sheer, ladylike pink.
topper gave a low whistle, already grinning. “damn,” he muttered under his breath, before raising his glass with a lazy grin. “y/n, sweetheart!”
you glanced over, your gaze looking bored and then — without even pausing your sentence into the phone, you lifted your hand, extended your middle finger, and turned back around to grab your clutch off the counter.
kelce practically choked on his drink. “jesus christ.”
rafe just laughed, low and proud, “told you,” he said with a shrug. “she’s not in the business of being polite.”
topper looked stunned. “she’s exactly the same.”
“what, you thought motherhood was gonna make her soft?” rafe asked, amused. “if anything, she’s worse. more dangerous. more expensive. more addicted to chanel.”
“so, i heard she’s running some aesthetics thing now?” kelce said, leaning back.
“yeah, her own studio,” rafe said, a flicker of something proud flashing in his eye. “botox, filler, laser, all that. booked out for months. women come from everywhere just to get their lips done by her.”
topper shook his head. “she’s a menace.”
“she’s my menace.” rafe replied, without hesitation.
inside, you hung up the phone and crossed the room slowly, your heels clicking faintly on the marble tile. aurora’s tiny pink barbie shoes were scattered by the sofa, a discarded juice box lying sideways on the floor. you ignored it all, stepping over the chaos like you were floating.
teddy came sprinting through the hallway a second later, barefoot and yelling something about pirates. before he stood infront of you, holding his arms out. you bent down before picking him up and holding him on your hip.
you walked over to the couch, setting teddy down, “do you want your headphones?” you asked, in which he nodded eagerly.
you grabbed his headphones from the kitchen counter, putting them on his ears as he grabbed his ipad, you gave him a kiss on the head.
you leaned against the doorframe, and gave the garden another look — your eyes flicking between kelce, topper, and rafe like you were weighing which of them mattered enough to speak to. spoiler, none of them did.
“that’s my beautiful wife right there,” rafe muttered, bringing his drink up to his lips.
topper smirked, glancing back at you. “still not sure how you pulled her.”
“i knocked her up at seventeen,” rafe replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “and never let her leave.”
they laughed, but it was true. you’d had teddy at seventeen. scared shitless, defiant as hell, and already wearing luxury perfume your friends couldn’t pronounce. you were fire and ice and fake lashes. somehow, through the coke and the fighting and the storm of growing up too fast, rafe stayed. stayed and built a kingdom around you.
and now — seven years later — here you were. in the house you both designed, sipping your matcha, with a business in your name and two kids who called you mama and a husband who never stopped spoiling you.
you finally stepped out onto the patio, sunglasses in place, your lips glossed. “topper. kelce,” you greeted, voice silk-wrapped poison. “didn’t know they was letting the strays through the gates now.”
“we told security we were here to see the ceo,” kelce grinned.
you raised a brow. “must’ve been a slow day.”
rafe stood as you walked past, placing a hand on the small of your back like muscle memory. you leaned up, kissed his cheek, and whispered something in his ear — too low for the others to hear. whatever it was made rafe smirk.
“i’m taking the g-wagon,” you said aloud. “meeting a client for a consultation. if aurora wakes up, don’t let her eat gummy bears before dinner. she’ll lie about how many she had.”
“noted,” rafe said, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.
you turned to the boys, eyes cool behind your designer shades. “you boys have fun talking about the glory days. don’t forget your wives have access to your bank accounts now.”
with that, you walked off, heels clacking against the stone, legs out for miles. topper stared, “she scares me.”
“yeah,” rafe followed his gaze, “me too.” but he loved it.
love island bkg a week in being coupled with him and you both are obsessed with each other. always so touchy feely, lingering hands on your ass in the kitchen, back hugs when he’s brushing his teeth and your hand drifting across his chest. being stuck together 24/7 makes everything feel so much more intense. sure you would have dated him on the outside but living together so soon has you always feeling like the L word is on the tip of your tongue.
anyway, bakugou wouldn’t describe himself as a particularly horny person. he’d say he gets horny the regular amount but today has really been testing his limits and you haven’t caught on. your dress tonight has been gorgeous, a lovely green that makes your ass fat and you wore this body glitter that made you look edible. you’ve probably shared way too many kisses on the daybeds and now he’s stuck in his shared bed with you waiting for the lights to finally turn off.
when the room finally settles into pitch black, your arm stretches over his upper chest in a sleepy hug.
bakugou grunts.
“what’s wrong?” you whisper and he can smell the mint from your toothpaste. your smooth leg stretches over his waist.
“so fuckin’ tired of sharin’ a room with ten people.” bakugou whispering makes his voice deeper, darker. you look up at him, making out the shape of his features as your eyes adjust. you squish closer to him and a thick bicep circles around your back.
“hm? what do you mean?”
you lock eyes with him in the darkness and you immediately know what he means.
“i don’t like the idea of gettin’ you off with an audience.”
your heart rattles against your chest and you don’t mean to adjust your body again but you do, hips in the position to hump his side but you don’t.
“why would you bring it up if you won’t do it?” you whisper whine, inching you face towards his.
so far you’ve only made out a lot and groped each other a lot. you definitely wouldn’t mind the feeling of his fingers or possibly more… knowing exactly how he’d fuck.
bakugou exhales from the pit of his chest, careful not to bring attention to you too. he shifts over so hes facing you directly to crush his face to yours. it’s a make out that goes straight to your clit and has you imagining being touched all over. his tongue is warm against yours and you don’t have it in you to care about the noise.
his hand finds your ass, sneaking right between your legs but pausing. you lift your leg over his hip, giving him all the access he needs.
“wanna touch you so fuckin’ bad,” he moans into your mouth and it takes everything inside of you not to moan loudly. moan like you would in the privacy of your bedroom with a boy your insanely attracted to.
“do it,” you sigh desperately, no longer caring that you’re about to have sex with other people in a room. you’re on love island, that’s what happens. “do it katsuki.”
bakugou’s eyes widen before lazing. you have him so fucked up. the first time he touches you and you have to stay quiet. he needs to find a way to get into that hideaway.
“okay, baby,” he says before slotting his mouth over yours and sliding two fingers pass your asscheeks and right into the warmth between your legs. it’s a delight for him to just feel you so intimately and it definitely has him straightening like a pole at you going limp on his face.
“fuck,” you mumble, deciding to rest your head on his shoulder and hug him tightly. your leg locks around his waist, your fingers raking through the hair on his nape. you bite your lip hard when he presses against your stomach.
“sorry,” he grunts but you shake your head.
“i want you,”
“you’re killin’ me.”
there’s hot heavy breaths between you both, a thin layer of sweat forming on bakugou’s forehead.
as slow as he can without creating much noise, he flexes his fingers in and out of you. a rhythm that is as blissful as it is torturous.
a whine escapes you. definitely loud enough for the two beds beside you to hear if they’re not asleep already.
“quiet, baby,” he mumbles but he can’t help but say more, “you’re so beautiful, all of you.”
you hitch your leg higher on his waist, ready to grind into the palm of his hand.
“make me come,” you whisper into his neck, your body burning from unadulterated desire pumping through you.
bakugou takes that as a mission he must complete, he needs to see you, feel you fall apart on his fingers.
bakugou thrusts his fingers in and out, curling them to brush the tips against your walls. he measures how you’re feeling from how your breathing switches, the halts and pitch changes. then your thigh tensing on his hip and your fingers twitching at his shoulder.
“katsuki,” you breathe softly.
“i know, baby.”
as silent as you can, you orgasm on his fingers. your whole body shakes, pleasure ripping through you like rough waves crashing against rocks. your breath increases in pitch and you don’t realise you’re biting down on bakugou’s shoulders as you clench to keep him inside.
“oh. ohhh,”’
“cmon, you good?”
bakugou slowly slides out of you and you tilt your head to look at him. you’re stunning with your sleepy eyes and shiny face from your night moisturiser. a kiss on your cheek, then your lips.
“we’re gonna get the hideaway. i’ll ask the producers if i need to,” you whisper, exhaustion about to knock you out.
you wake up to a bright light and a pillow being thrown in your face from your friend across from you.
“what? what was that for!?”
“we heard you last night. more katsuki more!”
you fight your embarrassment back, “like you haven’t done worse!”
bakugou doesn’t care, hugging your body with closed eyes as you socialise with everyone in the morning.
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one thing i will NEVER understand is “character x oc” books.
ho. why do you expect me to read about some bitch i don’t care about, posted up with MY man?? IT MAKES NO SENSE
“you’re self-centred if you don’t let someone write their oc with your favourite character!” so what if i am then? i want the fic/book to be about ME and MY MAN
i’m talking specifically about the non-anime fics. like the irl ones. it’s oc this, oc that, oc oc oc, FUCKING OC. like no ho, i didn’t come to read this central cee fic, just to find out that “ALAINA” is the mc.
and the population of x reader fics is concerningly low, it scares the piss out of me
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Dry humping. Titty fucking. Thigh gap fucking, thigh riding. Mutual Masturbation. Solo Masturbation. Just making out without an escalation to sex. I will be bringing it.
something about overstimulating men during sex that gets me riled up.
first they’re a little cocky, your hand tugging on their phat dick. honestly it’s a regular hand job. they’re moaning with a smirk on their face until their balls tighten and you stop a little to see it twitch until you spit on it once more and start tugging fast do that smirk drop and a frown comes above.
and the cum shot is long, splashing on your titties that sat nice in your navy blue lingerie.
the second you start stroking your hands on him again does he twitch and shake. It’s a lot because it’s surprising, it hurts a little but feels good more.
he’s laughing a little but it’s almost like he’s trying to hide the pain. “uhn f-fuck.” he keeps repeating it, over and over “ah- fuck- fuck!” and when he comes a second time you give him no break to start again.
you have to grip his dark harder because he has gotten so wet, his cum squelching between your fingers it’s frothing up at this point.
and now he’s in straight sweet agony.
his hips are thrusting, his spine is arching and gosh…his voice is wrecked.
“It f-fucking hurts!” , “god it feels so good b-baby.”
“I don’t know if I can cum anymore.” but he always cum, even if the cum shot is shorter because your draining his balls repeatedly
and you’ve gotten so wet, you decide you’re tired of hearing him fuss so you go and sit on his face reverse cowgirl so you can still stroke his dick.
that might have been the quickest he came. he’s licking you up, whining into you all while sniffing up your scent.
his thighs are squeezing together but you know he still wants some more cause his dick stay getting bigger, stay getting wetter, and stays getting harder.
“you can give me about 2 more yes?” you whisper and he whimpers.
