#don’t question how i’m still going with these

[stellamarielu]

on the job

joel miller x female reader

summary: you and joel are forced to work together, but neither of you can get past the others stubborn attitude or contractor!joel and interior designer!reader fuck in a walk-in closet

content: nsfw, 18+ mdni, pre outbreak!joel, he’s kind of a huge asshole sorry, teasing, degradation, dirty talk, slightly dubcon, fingering, use of nicknames such as princess sweetheart and good girl, finger sucking, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, sex against a wall, kinda public sex bc it’s on a job site?? pull out game strong with this one

author’s note: based on this lovely request. i made joel a little mean bc it felt right but at the end of the day he will forever be babygirl. also, i know very little about both of these professions so i apologize for any inaccuracies in that department

You liked to think that you were easy to work with, always polite and mindful— pleasant even.

You mostly kept to yourself, especially when you were working on a project alongside others, however, not everyone shared your cooperative mindset.

In fact, you had worked with a multitude of assholes. Men who thought they held some kind of power over you, who flourished under the opportunity to demean and mock your job like theirs was more important, but none of them even held a candle to Joel Miller.

Your paths crossed when you were hired by a pretentious, middle-aged woman in Austin to help design the interior of her new home— a home that was still under construction.

To make yourself familiar with the layout, you visited the site multiple times in the weeks before construction was scheduled to finish.

It was always an easy and uneventful trip. You greeted the workers, took a few pictures, wrote down some dimensions and then you were gone in twenty minutes tops; but that all changed the day you met Joel. 

You waltzed into the house, waving to one of the men you had come to know from your previous visits and then you heard it, a deep berating voice targeted directly at you.

“Who the hell are you and why are you on my site without a fuckin’ hard hat?”

You stopped in your tracks as you were met with an unknown face. 

“Uh sorry. I’m working on an interior design project for the Johnson’s. They told me I was welcome to come check out the space if I needed anything.” You didn’t know why, but your voice was coming out in compliance, the tone hushed. 

The way this man approached you was incredibly entitled and unabashedly rude.

Normally you wouldn’t let some asshole like this get within two feet of you, let alone talk to you like that; but this guy had you questioning your morals for a split second. He was tall, and broad, and handsome. The southern drawl slipping from the smug curl of his lips and the flex of his biceps as his arms crossed over his chest, had your words stuttering.

“Well, until my job is finished, and the Johnson’s have the keys to their front door, I call the shots. And I don’t do well with unexpected visitors walkin’ around while my guys are trying to get work done.”

Your mouth nearly hung open at his words.

You’d barely said a word to him and he was coming at you with a disgustingly brash and assertive attitude. What the hell was his deal?

“Okay...” The word was drawn-out as it fell from your lips in annoyance.

“Well, it’s kind of funny, because this is probably the fifth time I’ve been here, and none of your guys seem to give a rats ass, so how about you let me do my job and I’ll let you do yours.” 

Finally, you had gotten past the stranger’s criminally good looks and stuck to your guns.

There was no way in hell you were going to let him reprimand you for doing your job. Afterall, you had every right to be here. 

“Yeah well, my guys will let you do whatever you want when you’re prancin’ around here in tight little dresses and high heels. You think they’re just bein’ nice for the hell of it?” 

His irritation was masked by amusement as he looked you up and down, dramatically raking his eyes over your body. 

“I don’t know who you think you are, but I’d really appreciate it if you could just drop the attitude and keep things professional.” The quality of your voice was stern, juxtaposing the way his eyes on your body had you suddenly feeling a rush of heat throughout your chest.

Anger.

The warmth was an angry fervor, definitely not one of lust or temptation. It was a burning irritation for the man standing in front of you, not a curious warmth for how his eyes clung to every curve of your body, taking his time drinking in any exposed skin.

His smile widened as he watched you falter under his stare. “I’ll drop my attitude when you drop yours sweetheart.”

“Listen, Mr-“

“Miller. Joel Miller.”

“Okay, Mr. Joel Miller. I have work to do, so I’m just going to walk past you, take a few notes and I’ll be out of your hair. Deal?” 

“Fine. But if I see you back here again you better be wearin’ a hard hat. Don’t need any trouble because you trip and hit your pretty little head.” He let his eyes wander down your body once more, his voice full of sarcasm.

“Yeah yeah, got it boss.” You scoffed as you pushed past his broad frame. You didn’t turn to look back, but you could practically feel his eyes burning into you as you swayed into the entry way, hoping it was the last time you’d ever have to speak to him.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

You ran into Joel a few more times, each meeting more infuriating and demeaning than the last. He always had a smart comment on his tongue or a mocking intention in his voice. 

Joel Miller had quickly become the bane of your existence; yet, for some reason there was a part of you, deep down, that always hoped to run into him when you went to scout out a new project for the house.   

Maybe because he was undeniably handsome, always walking around with a charming smirk on his lips and a devious glint in his big brown eyes. It was almost as if he were challenging you— seeing how far he could push you before you snapped. 

He continued to test your patience as you now stood in the giant walk-in closet off the primary bedroom.

You were trying to establish a color scheme sophisticated enough to fit Miss Johnson’s impossible to please pallet while Joel was making unnecessarily loud noises across the room.

He was far from graceful, the slamming and pounding of tools was all you could hear as he worked on one of the many intricate shoe shelves on the wall.

“I thought this side of the house was done.” You were speaking without looking in his direction, your eyes following the paint swatches on the wall. 

“Was.” Joel’s voice was gruff as he continued working.

“Until the queen decided she needed more storage for all her designer shit.” He was chuckling at his own words, side eyeing you from his spot kneeling on the floor. 

“You are genuinely the most unprofessional person I’ve ever met.” You dismissed his rude comment about the woman you were both employed by.

“That right?”

You refused to look at him, but you could hear the delight in his voice. 

“Absolutely.” Your response was curt, a quick and straight-forward delivery.

“Good.”

As if you couldn’t hate him more, the word leaving his lips had you turning your head sharply in his direction, an appalled expression plastered across your face. 

“God you get on my last nerve.”

“That right?” Again, his lips tugged into a smirk as he looked at you. 

You raised your brows in annoyance with a single nod of your head at his question.

“Good.” His voice was taunting as he watched you shake your head in frustration. 

You brought your eyes back to the wall in front of you, not giving Joel another second of your attention.

After a few seconds of silence his deep voice broke into the room. “You know, if you weren’t so uptight, maybe I’d ask you out for a drink sometime.” 

It took you a minute to register his words. Was he implying that he wanted to ask you on a date while insulting you at the same time? What a fucked-up, backhanded compliment; one that had your chest stirring with warmth.

“Well, I guess it’s too bad I’m such an high-strung bitch then.” Sarcasm dripped from your words as you kept your eyes trained ahead, your head spinning from Joel’s implicit interest. 

“I doubt you’d last one minute in the bar I’d take you to anyway.”

His comment had your head snapping back again. This time his eyes were already on you, waiting to see a reaction. 

“And why’s that?” Your voice cut through the room at his assumption. 

“Because it’s not exactly a five star establishment, and I think you’re just like all these pretentious fucks you work for.” He raised an eyebrow at you before turning back to the shelf in front of him, tending to a few finishing touches. 

“Always so put together, walking around here with your shoulders high.” He was nonchalant as he criticized you, hands busy taking measurements, not even paying an ounce of attention to the dirty look you were currently shooting at him from the other side of the room. 

“You think you’re better than everyone, but you’re just another pretty face with an overblown ego.”

There it was. The final blow that had your body tensing with anger.

You couldn’t believe that just a few seconds ago you were letting him flatter you, swooning under the smallest inkling of positivity he threw your way.

He was the worst kind of guy, the kind that built you up just to tear you down. The kind that wanted to make you feel worse about yourself so you would go running to him for a semblance of positive reinforcement.

Joel Miller liked the chase— thrived off being such a douchebag that women somehow ended up falling on their knees for him. But you, you weren’t going to be that woman. 

“Me? Talk about a massive-fucking-ego, take a look in the mirror Miller. You’re the one always making sure I know my place around here, acting like a fucking sociopath. It’s like you get off on being an asshole.”

He stopped what he was doing and looked directly at you, his expression unreadable, like your cruel words caused a switch in him to flip. 

“Maybe I do.”

“What?”

“Maybe I like gettin’ under your skin, watchin’ you get all flustered.” He spoke slowly, setting down his materials and standing to his feet.

“Think it’s kinda cute. You’re always tryin’ to act all big and bad, but I know I make you nervous. I can see it in the way you look at me.” He didn’t move, the smirk on his face causing your eyebrows to furrow in irritation. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, standing strong on your opinion that Joel was the world’s biggest asshole. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting his words get to you.

“You can stop wherever you’re going with this. I’m not here to play your little bullshit games, I’m here to do a job and get paid.”

“Who says you can’t have a little fun on the job?” His voice was laced with a deep seriousness as he set his tools down on one of the many shelves adorning the walls. You watched him over your shoulder but kept your back turned, your body still facing the wall.

“Turn around.” The command left his lips and you wanted to laugh at his attempt of authority but the sincerity in his voice stopped you in your tracks. 

“What? No-“

“C’mon sweetheart, I think we both know you like bein’ told what to do.” His voice cut you off, the signature smirk on his lips sending a buzz straight to your head.

You didn’t mean to, or maybe you did, but your body turned to face him, watching intently as he continued speaking. His broad frame emphatic as he stood across from you.

“I bet you like it, having someone boss you around. Makes you feel a little inferior.”

As the words left his lips he began walking toward you.

It was a casual stroll, not intense or threatening, yet you felt your pulse racing and your posture slumping at his advances.

“Oh please. You need a reality check Joel.” 

“Wanna give it to me princess?”

You kept the appearance of control as he continued moving forward, but internally you were fighting feelings of complete disarray.

You wanted to be offended— maybe even slap him across the face for his wildly inappropriate nickname and the implication of his words. But instead, you froze, his body now less than a foot away from yours and his words ringing in your ears. 

There was absolutely no denying the way his statement had your thighs clenching and your head spinning. Something in his delivery, smug and dirty with his eyes holding a perverted hunger and a promise of follow through, made you weak.

You kept your body from jolting when you felt the touch of his hand wrapping around your waist, finding purchase dangerously low on your back. 

“Bet you’ve never done anythin’ like this.” His voice was sturdy— rigid with power.

The weight of his hand was rough, his palm resting just above the curve of your ass. His touch was heavy yet temperate as he held you, softly pulling you’re your body further into his. 

“Lettin’ some guy you barely know put his hands all over you.”

You watched his eyes carefully, your lips parted but you couldn’t find any words to fill them. You weren’t sure if you wanted to tell him to stop or keep going. 

“Bet all the guys you hook up with are just as prim and proper as you. Can’t imagine that those dipshits graduating from UT with a business degree are fuckin’ you the right way.”

His other hand came to the small of your waist, the movement sending a faint gasp straight to your lips. Your reaction had Joel smirking, reinforcing his grip on your body.

“Probably don’t even know how to get you off.” 

“You’re disgusting.” Your voice was a whisper. The insult that you meant to hurl his way dissolved in a pitiful sigh at the way his fingertips were latching onto you.

“Am I? Bet you like that too.” This time he leaned in, causing his words to land directly in your ear, his breath warm on your neck.  

“Bet you want someone a little rough around the edges. Someone to fuck you real nice.” 

As he spoke, his fingers curled into your body. His grip on you constricting.

His frame pushed into yours, sending you shuffling backward until your back was met with the solid friction of the wall.

“Joel..” 

You were searching in your mind, trying to form an articulate sentence to explain why this was wrong; why you couldn’t be in this position with him.

But he had you trapped against the weight of his body— big and wide and rough.

Every single rational thought in your head dissipated, replaced by an instinctual need to have him fuck you against the wall of this ridiculously expensive closet.

He was right, you’d never done anything like this and the excitement of it— the risk, had your entire body burning with white-hot desire. 

“Tell me to stop and I will.” His hands were holding your hips, pressing you into the wall with his chest dangerously close to yours. 

“But I don’t think you want me to.” For a single second you could see an indication of honesty in his eyes as he looked you over, searching for any sign of distress on your face. And when he couldn’t find it, his stare narrowed and his hands held tighter, rotating your body in his grasp until your chest was pressed against the wall. 

“I think,” He leaned into you, your ass pushing against the bulge in his jeans as his hum landed on the skin right beneath your ear. 

“You want me to lift up this pretty little dress and fuck you nice and hard right here, against this wall.”

His hands found the hem of your dress, bringing it up just enough to bunch at your waist.

Your lower half was almost bare, the only clothing keeping your cunt from being fully exposed to him was the little black thong encasing the dripping mess that had now built up between your legs. It didn’t stop him from reaching between your bodies, pressing his thumb against your clothed entrance. 

“Fuck- you’re soaked princess.” The first word was a prolonged throaty groan, the rest of the sentence fumbling behind it. 

“How long you been thinkin’ bout this huh? Me touchin’ you, makin’ you beg for it.” He was having too much fun playing with you through your panties, his thumb threatening to dip into you even with the lace still covering your entrance.

He pushed against it, moving between your clothed folds and marveling at the wetness seeping through the material. 

“I’m not begging.” You managed to hiss out a response, turning your head to peer at him, your cheek nearly pressing against the wall. 

“Oh, so she’s always mouthy huh?” 

You watched the diabolical grin eat away at his face from the power trip of having you trapped under his weight.

You could talk-back all you wanted— be as bratty and uncooperative as possible, but it didn’t change the fact that he had you right where he wanted you. 

“Keep talkin’ baby, go on.” He innocently raised his brows at you, his voice taunting as the weight of his thumb danced between your legs.

“I Know you want this too. You act like you can’t stand me, but I see the way you look at me…” Your voice was quiet but strong as you held onto the last bit of composure you had left, using it to defy the man at your back.

You were trying your best not to lose your train of thought as you spoke. You wouldn’t give up the fight that easily, succumbing to his tempting words and lewd touches. You could tell Joel was used to getting his way and every muscle in your body ached to challenge him. 

“The way your eyes are glued to my ass every time I walk past you.” You glared over your shoulder as the words drifted off your lips in a gentle accusation. 

His dark chuckle filled the room as his eyes darted away from yours for a short second. Then his stare was back on you— more intense than before. The two of you watching each other, sitting in a pool of mutual revelation. 

You both knew it.

You knew since day one that there was a shared attraction, an unspoken sexual tension hidden behind rude words and unsavory exchanges.

What was happening now was just a detonation of built-up pressure that had been stewing for weeks; evident in the wetness at your core and the bulge in Joel’s jeans. 

“Anythin’ else you wanna say? Should probably get it all out before I have you all fucked-out on my cock.” His voice dropped to a low whisper as he hooked his thumb into your underwear, pulling the material to the side, not even bothering to take them off completely. 

A soft gasp slid from your lips at the cool air meeting your newly exposed center, the slick pooling at your entrance only adding to the airy sensation. 

“You’re so fucking arrogant.” 

The words barely left your lips when you felt his touch meet your core, his fingers spreading your arousal.

You had more to say to him, you wanted to tell him how annoying he was and how you had lost every ounce of decency by letting him talk to you this way, but the words were caught in your throat as he pushed two fingers into you. 

“Maybe I have good reason to be.” 

Your eyes were squeezed shut at the unexpected feeling of him filling you with his fingers, yet you could hear the smirk dripping in his voice.

“You ever think about that sweetheart?”

His words were impatient, the initial drive of his fingers into your entrance was rough, but now they slowly worked into you. His movements were careful— cautious even.

It was as if he wanted to take his time, watching your body and listening to the shaky breaths leave your lips.

His hand worked between your legs, searching for the exact technique that would send you spewing profanities and crumbling against the wall.  

He curled his fingertips at just the right spot, not too deep and not too forceful, just a gentle pulse that had an impulsive whimper pouring from your chest.

“Maybe I’m so arrogant because I know I’m good at what I do.” His words held a double meaning as he added a third finger to stroke your newfound sweet spot.

You almost yelped from the stretch, but you held it back as best you could, refusing to give him the gratification of your submission. 

The position he had you in; back arched and ass pushed out, made it almost embarrassingly easy for the addition of a third digit as he watched them to sink into you.

You couldn’t help but hum in approval as he stroked you repeatedly, rubbing against the inviting drawl of your walls. You tried not to lose yourself at his fingertips, knowing from the familiar coil of pleasure in your core that he could have you coming on his fingers at any given moment. 

“Thought you were gonna fuck me, huh?” Your voice was a string of moans as you tried your best to form a coherent sentence with his hand pushed between your bodies. 

As much as you didn’t want his movements to stop, you also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you finish when he’d barely even gotten his hands on you.

Knowing Joel, he would never let you live it down. He’d ride around on his metaphorical high horse and crown himself the king of female orgasms. So instead of letting him bring you to the precipice of release, you met him with a phrase of defiance. But your challenging words were really just a gateway to get what you wanted. You could put on a tough act, but at the end of the day Joel was right, you did want him to fuck you in way no one ever had— hungry and hard against the wall, right here in your client’s house.

In fact, the thought of it had taken over every fiber of your being. The anticipation of feeling him rail into you was clouding your judgement and coursing through your veins at an alarming speed. 

“Think you can take it?” His growl stuck in your ears as he pulled out of you. The lewd noises of his fingers plunging into the slick mess at your folds was quickly replaced by the sound of him fumbling with his belt buckle. 

“How d’you want it, huh baby? You the sentimental type? Want it nice and slow and deep? Or d’you just wanna be ruined? Want someone to be a little rough with ya?” He was asking, but you couldn’t help but note the rhetorical quality of his words as you heard the rustle of his jeans pushing down his thighs. 

“That’s sweet of you to give me choice, maybe you don’t like control as much as I thought- “

Your sarcastic remark was cut short at the abrupt stretch of Joel’s length slamming into you.

“Rough it is then.” His voice was a deep grunt echoing from behind you as he paused, giving you a split second to adjust before pulling back out and thrusting into you again. 

“Shit princess, didn’t think you’d be this fuckin’ tight.”

His voice swam with amusement and pleasure as he watched the way his dick fully disappeared into you with each thrust of his hips.

Hands pulled at your waist as you felt Joel drive deeper with every breathless groan floating off his lips. 

“Look at you, takin’ me like such a good girl.” The words weren’t sweet, instead they teased you, shooting out of his mouth with a mocking tenor. 

You couldn’t keep your body from reacting to his praise, albeit contemptuous, the words still held a deep truth about the situation unfolding against the wall of your shared employer’s closet. 

“Oh, you like that don’t ya? When I tell you what a good girl you are?” His voice was a broken growl of grunts and sighs as he fucked into you— vigorous and desperate.

His pace was unrelenting as he held onto your waist, pulling you back to meet him with every drive of his hips into yours. 

He let one of his hands travel up your body until he was reaching for your jaw, tilting your head up and back until your body was arched at a sinful angle.

“See, I knew you just needed a good fuck.” His groan was right in your ear now that he held your head close to his, the grip he had on your jaw was firm.

It was becoming impossible for you to keep quiet, the strength and depth of his thrusts were causing explicit moans to skate past yours lips.

The hand that Joel was using to hold your face was now maneuvering to your mouth in an effort to muffle the obscene sounds rolling off your tongue. Two of his fingers pushed at your lips, hooking into your mouth. 

“Knew that little attitude a’yours was all for show.”

You closed your lips around his digits as he railed into you, a guttural moan sliding up your throat and humming onto his fingers. 

“Fuck.” His fowl groan was a direct result of your soft mouth sucking around his fingers, mimicking the way you had his cock encased between your legs.

You invited his touch onto your tongue, swirling around his thick digits and sucking him in deeper, earning a prolonged sigh from Joel as he fucked into you even harder.

Each stroke of his cock had your body pressing further into the wall— his pace was mean and unyielding, like he had something to prove. 

With the hand not in your mouth, Joel reached around your body, his fingertips finding your clit and rubbing quick careless circles over the bundle of nerves.

Your body faltered under his touch, your knees slightly buckling, and if it weren’t for the weight of his body trapping you against the wall, you’d be a puddle on the floor. 

He slowed his pace slightly, taking his time to find that spot along your walls again. The one that he discovered just minutes ago when he was three fingers deep in your dripping cunt. 

Whines of approval vibrated against the pads of his fingertips still pressing down on your tongue. His hips began rocking into you at just the right angle— slow and deliberate, with the goal of feeling you coming undone on his cock. 

“That it baby? Right there?” Again, his words were a sadistic tease, but his voice gave way to pitiful throaty whines.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think with the way he was working you toward your release.

Everything felt so overwhelming, his unrelenting thrusts hitting you in the perfect place, his touch on your clit, rough and impatient and his fingers filling your mouth— all of it creating the perfect storm of inconceivable pleasure. 

A jolt of relief surged through your body as the pressure inside you snapped. You let yourself fall further into the wall as Joel’s name slipped from your mouth in a chant.

Hearing his name on your lips in such a distant and dazed voice, had Joel’s cock pulsing. Your walls were clenching from your climax, sucking him in deeper and he couldn’t handle the abundance of warmth enveloping him. 

Both of his hands came down to your hips, fingers digging into your skin as held tight.

His thrusts were merciless as he used you to reach his peak, chasing the familiar buildup of tension in his core as he drove into you at a startling pace. 

Then he pulled out abruptly. 

One hand on his cock, stroking just twice before spilling onto the skin of your lower back, the other pushing your dress further up your body to keep it from becoming a jizz painted mess. 

Silence filled the room.

Neither of you spoke as your hands pushed against the wall underneath your palms. You stayed pressed there, Joel’s body still behind you evident in the ragged breaths leaving his chest. 

Still no words were exchanged as you felt Joel take a step back, the warmth of his presence fading just slightly.

You dared to break your pleasure induced trance to look over your shoulder, only find him pulling his jeans back up his body and tightening his belt without even sparing you a glance.

You began to move until you were reminded of the thick warm mess resting on your back, keeping you from pulling your dress down.

Before you could do anything, Joel was back behind you, hooking his fingers into the waist band of your panties and tugging them down your legs. He stopped at your ankles to tap against your skin, prompting you to step out of them.

Once the lacy material was fully in his grasp, he brought them up to your lower back, using them to gather his spend. He cleaned his mess with the lacy material then pulled your dress back down to cover your lower half. A sticky residue was left on your backside as a plaguing reminder of what had just transpired between you. 

You turned to face him, watching as he crumpled up your ruined underwear and shoved it into his back pocket with a smirk on his face. 

“How about that drink? Could meet you tomorrow night, should be done here around five.” He was back across the room in an instant, gathering tools and not bothering to look in your direction.

His invitation was genuine, but his words lacked interest. 

“I’ll get these back to you then.” His hand came to rest on his back pocket, fingers tapping against the denim holding your used panties.

A self-righteous smile sat on his face as he shot you a look of pure deviance before his eyes were back on his hands as they worked to gather his materials. 

“Yeah, okay.” Your voice came out more flustered than you intended as you smoothed out your dress over your thighs.

Joel was heading for the closet door, tool bag clutched in his hand as he gave you one last gaze of victory.

“It’s a date.” The words were a grumble from his lips, the same ones that were busy parading a smug smile. 

Then he left you standing alone in the small room, your mind racing around itself and your legs still trembling.

A subtle grin rested on your face as you stared down at the floor, trying to find some sort of equilibrium before even attempting to move.

The giant walk-in closet still encasing a lingering heat of reckless choices as you prepared to go on with your day— business as usual.

my masterlist

[firewasabeast]

crash that helicopter, let chimney and tommy talk, and let's get buck and tommy back together!

“Hang on, Tommy! We got ya, Bud. Just hang on.”

A part of him wondered why they were even bothering. He knew his chances the second he decided to change course and crash into the ground.

Actually, he knew before then. He knew the second the gun was put on him and he was told to fly. There was no alternate ending for him.

He was going to die today.

That’s when he decided he might as well take the rest of them with him.

Now, familiar hands were on him, touching his body. Reaching underneath him to feel along his spine, strapping a brace around his neck, sticking needles into his arm, all while asking him questions he couldn’t quite form answers to.

“Can you feel this, Tommy?” Hen asked. She was poking at his foot.

He could feel it. He could feel everything. He could feel too much.

“Y- Yeah,” he choked out.

There was a strong taste of metal in his mouth. Something wet on his lips, running down his chin.

Through blurry eyes, he could see Howie and Hen share a look. Then Hen was grabbing some gauze and wiping his mouth clean.

“We’re nearly done, Tommy,” Chimney said, and Tommy was impressed by how steady he kept his voice. Howie was meant for this job, for this life. His ability to keep people calm even as they knew they were taking their final breaths was a gift. Tommy wished he was able to say as much before he died. “We’re getting your leg set before we go.”

“S’fine,” he muttered out. “I… okay.”

A tear fell out of the corner of his eye, but he wasn’t crying. At least, he wasn’t meaning to cry. It was more from the pain than anything else. He felt like every bone in his body had been crushed. Like all his organs had been rearranged and squeezed with a vise.

There was a loud wheezing sound happening, and he was pretty sure it was coming from him.

Slowly, his eyes began to close, and the pain started to fade a bit, until a harsh rub on his chest had him gasping and his eyes opening up wide.

“Stay with us, Tommy,” Hen instructed, wiping at his mouth again. “Almost there.”

“Is… I don’t… Ev- where’s…” Tommy’s arm flailed out beside him, his brain a jumbled mess. He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to say, but he knew he needed to say something.

“What’s that, Bud?” Chimney asked, placing pressure somewhere low on his abdomen.

“Ev… Where’s E- Evan?”

Another shared look between Chim and Hen.

“Buck is-” Hen paused, looking just past Chimney. “He’s actually coming over right now, Tommy.”

Tommy went to shake his head no, but the brace prevented it. He didn’t want Evan to watch him die. He just needed them to tell him something, if he could think of what that something was.

“No,” he breathed out, voice barely audible. “N- No, d-”

“Tommy! Tommy, I’m here. You’re okay, I’m here.” Buck was panting, kneeling down beside Tommy and leaning forward so he could look right at him. “I- I’m here. You- You’ll be fine, Tommy.”

He was trying to be strong, Tommy could tell. Trying to blink away the tears that filled his eyes. Trying to keep his voice from breaking.

Tommy couldn’t have that. He didn’t want to see Evan sad. He never wanted to see Evan sad.

He tried to reach for Evan, but his hand wouldn’t quite move the way he wanted it to and it ended up just flopping up and down.

Understanding, Buck took the hand in his and held onto him. “We’ll b- be taking you to the hospital real soon, Tommy. They’ll g- get you fixed right up.”

Tommy had to focus on his words. See them in his head and work to get his mouth to open and his voice to work the way he needed it to. “S’okay,” he gasped out. “S’okay.” He could feel more tears pouring from both corners of his eyes. A steady stream that he had no control over. Still, he kept talking to Buck. “E… Evan, I- I’m… okay. Don’t w- worry.”

There was so much he wanted to say. So many things he wanted to tell Evan before it was too late.

I’m sorry I ever left.

I’m sorry I was too scared to be honest with you.

I’m sorry I thought we were more than what we were.

You made me so happy.

I love you so much.

Thank you for being my last.

None of that would come out though. Not when he was coughing, choking on the blood that was gurgling up in his throat.

“We gotta go now,” Chimney decided, and everyone sprang into action.

Tommy remembered them lifting him. He remembered groaning out in pain. He remembered Evan holding onto his hand tighter.

Then, there was nothing.

*****

There was a pressure weighing his body down. A heavy, thick pressure.

It wasn’t painful.

A little warm, if anything.

Made his body feel half numb, but in a good way.

His finger twitched. His eyes did too.

It took a second but, eventually, he was able to crack them open.

He was in a bed, elevated slightly, sheets up to his waist, the room white and sterile.

He was alive.

How the hell was he alive?

“There he is,” a familiar voice said beside him. His eyes drifted toward the sound, and there was Howie, standing right beside him with a wide smile on his face. “About time you joined us.”

“I…” God, Tommy’s throat felt like sandpaper.

“Buck’s gonna be pissed that you woke up the first time he leaves for ten minutes to go eat lunch in the cafeteria.”

Tommy’s brain was foggy. “Wh- What?”

“You’ve been out for a day and a half, Man,” Chimney informed him. “Scared the hell out of everyone, by the way. Coded three times on your way in. I think you’ve broken a record for body parts that required surgery.”

Tommy blinked a few times, trying to comprehend the things Chimney was telling him. “Can I… water?”

“Oh, yeah!” Chimney grabbed the little styrofoam cup off the tray table and held the straw to Tommy’s mouth. “Go slow. Not too much.”

Slowly, Tommy drank on the water. He swallowed down three sips before pulling away. “Thank you.”

“Need anything else right now? In any pain? Need a nurse?”

Tommy shook his head. “No, thanks.” He glanced around the room, noticing five different bouquets lined up along the window sill. There was a teddy bear in the middle, and a piece of construction paper taped to the wall that was covered in different colors of hearts.

He knew the picture had to come from Jee. The rest though… he couldn’t think of that many people who would send him stuff.

“Wh… What happened?”

Chimney grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it closer to the bed, then took a seat. “You’re a dumbass who played hero,” he replied. “Crashed your helicopter on purpose to prevent a terrorist attack.”

Oh yeah. Now Tommy remembered.

“D… Did they-”

“You’re the only survivor, Tommy.”

“Oh.” Tommy didn’t really feel one way or the other about those men dying. Not when they were planning on killing hundreds, if not thousands, of people anyway.

He raised a finger toward the flowers. “Who?”

Chimney glanced back. “Oh, those? Uh, Bobby and Athena sent one, Hen and Karen, Eddie, Ravi, and then Maddie and I got the ones on the end. The picture there is courtesy of Jee, and the teddy bear is all Buck. Said it’s an inside joke or something about bears, I did not ask beyond that.”

A grin briefly appeared on Tommy’s face, but it quickly disappeared. “You didn’t h- have to-”

Howie rolled his eyes. “Don’t even start. Harbor is setting up a food chain, by the way, once you get home they’ll be bringing stuff by.”

“That… That’s nice.”

Chimney sighed, looking back towards the door before he continued. “Listen, Buck’s gonna come bursting through the door any second, so I’m gonna fast forward through the small talk and get to it. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but I know love when I see it. He loves you, Tommy, and I know you love him too.”

Now was really not the time. “Howie-”

“No. I know things were said between the two of you. Maddie and I aren’t great at keeping secrets, especially from each other. Whatever Buck said to you that day, he didn’t mean it. Just like I’m sure there are some things you said that you didn’t mean.”

Tommy looked away from Chimney, opting to stare out the window.

“Okay, maybe you did mean it. Maybe you really think so little of yourself that you think there’s no way anyone could ever love a guy like you.” Chimney leaned forward, moving so he was in Tommy’s direct line of sight. “But let me tell you something about you, Tommy. You’re a good person, whether you believe it or not. You’re there for people. You show up. You were willing to die just so other people wouldn’t get hurt. Even as you thought you were dying you were trying to console Buck and make sure he was okay. That’s the Tommy I know.”

Tears filled Tommy’s eyes. His lip trembled slightly. He tried to keep it together.

“I know that Buck hasn’t left you for a second until today, and he only did that if I promised to stick to your side like glue. No bathroom breaks,” Chimney continued. “I know that there were five men holding him back at the scene of the crash. He had direct orders from the chief that he’d be suspended or worse if he so much as tried to get near you, but he did it anyway. That’s a man who has loved his job more than anything else in the world for as long as I’ve known him, but he didn’t give it a second thought when it came to you.”

Tommy swallowed hard. A tear fell down his cheek.

“You’re loved, Tommy. And not just by Buck. See those flowers?” He pointed back to the bouquets. “The smallest bouquet is like fifty dollars. That’s insane. You’re loved.”

Tommy let out a laugh at that. But before he could respond, the door opened and Buck hurried inside.

“You’re awake!” he exclaimed, eyebrows furrowing. “Chim!” he pouted. “I told you not to let him do that.”

“Like I can help when he wakes up!”

“I can close my eyes,” Tommy offered, voice still gravelly and eyes feeling heavier by the second. “Pretend to... wake up again.”

“No, I- that’s not…” Buck let out a breath, his body relaxing. “Tommy.”

Tommy smiled sleepily. “Evan.”

“I- Do you need anything?” he asked, stepping closer. “Has the nurse come in yet? Did Chimney give you water? Are you in pain? Do you-”

“I- I’m fine, Evan,” Tommy interrupted. He looked over his heavily bandaged body before returning his gaze to Buck. “Well… maybe fine’s the wrong word.”

Buck couldn’t take his eyes off of him. “I’m, um, I-” he cleared his throat. “We were worried about you.”

“Thank you, Evan,” Tommy responded, holding his hand open for Buck to take, “for staying w- with me.”

Buck closed the remaining space between them in an instant. He took Tommy’s hand in his, sitting down carefully on the side of the bed. “Nowhere else I’d wanna be, Tommy.”

“Well,” Chimney spoke up, “seeing as you both forgot I existed, I am going to go.” He reached out gave Tommy a pat on the shoulder. “See ya later, Man. Try not to break anymore bones while I’m gone.”

Tommy smiled. “Thanks, Howie. See ya.”

When Chimney left out of the room, he shut the door behind them. Buck waited until it clicked shut to speak. “Tommy, I,” he breathed out shakily, his eyes red-rimmed, “I know you’re tired. You… You need sleep, but I- I want to, um, I’d like for us to talk when you feel like it. If that’s okay,” he added quickly.

“Yeah, Evan.” Tommy gave his hand a little squeeze. “That’s okay.”

Buck grinned. “Okay. You look tired. You should, um, you should rest.”

As much as Tommy wanted to stay awake, his body was not getting the memo. “You’ll be here... when I wake up?”

Buck nodded. “Of course.”

“Good." Tommy's eyes began to close, but his grip on Buck’s hand remained. Half asleep, he mumbled, “Don’t le- let go, m’kay?”

Buck wrapped Tommy’s hand in both of his, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the knuckles. “I won’t, Tommy. Not this time.”

[thecoochiefairy]

binky. toji.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 4.5K words. blackfempregnant!character, drabble, toji fushiguro, husband!toji, grumpy!toji, sweet!toji, dominant!toji, nasty sex, public sex, sweet sex, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, creaming, oral [f], praising, LOTS of dirty talk, condomless sex, fingering, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ i just missed my man. this is very juno by sabrina carpenter coded. nothing serious, just wanted to put something out before i get caught in the chaos of moving. i love y’all. bye.

YOUR PALMS DID A FINAL SWAP OF COCOA BUTTER AGAINST YOUR STRETCH MARKS AS YOU COULD HEAR HIS DRIVERS SIDE DOOR SLAM SHUT, a breath exhaling out of your lips as you planned to open your door before he could do so.

Your french tips rest upon your swollen belly as your eyes flick up to the sun peeking beneath the clouds, cool air distracting the dewy warmth of spring. You loved and hated this time of the year. 

You already knew he was about to chastise you for not waiting until he got to your side. But you were impatient. He could be—slow.  

“I got it, Fushiguro.” 

Your golden sandals step onto the concrete, lowering yourself from the Ford F-150 that murmured to silence as he cut the engine off. You could see his scowl the moment your face met his.

“Cut out that stubborn shit, Amai. You’ gotta be careful.” 

His voice is a grunt. Amai. He didn’t often use that nickname, only when he needed to scold you.

You roll your eyes, “How are you gonna’ hold me and carry all the stuff? I’m not bedridden, Fushiguro.”

“That’s how you feel? You gonna’ keep calling me by my last name?”

“You gonna’ call me Amai like I’m a child?” You raise an eyebrow, going to reach in his pocket for the cigarettes you know are in there, wanting to put them back in the truck. 

“We just got out of the car, woman,” he narrows his eyes, “Why are you already being difficult?” 

Your eyes flick over him. Midnight black hair, even darker eyebrows, scar twitching against his lip as he continues to scowl. His frame is being hugged by a long sleeve white tee, leather jacket along his upper half, boots thumping the ground as he was heavy footed. 

You pout a bit, “Can you not be grumpy? I just wanted to make it easier for you. We have a bit of a walk,” you reach up for his hair, “You love me?”

“That’s not a question that needs to be asked. You know the answer.” 

To your comment on his grumpiness, his eyes narrowed even more. His eyebrows creased. It was almost cute. 

He never had something that was his, and you were that. His soul was connected to yours, something that a woman made with a man like him was unheard of.

“You’re still frowning,” your slender eyes became a bit round, doe-like as they stared up at him, “Wanna feel my belly? You always like that.” 

You place his large palm against your stomach, “Baby girl doesn’t like your energy.”

That made the scowl on his face change. You could see a flicker of softness in his dark eyes.

He sighs, “I’m sorry, baby.”

You smile a bit, “It’s okay, she forgives you. And so do I. Now, c’mon,” you yank on the shoulder of his jacket, “You’re gonna be hot in this. It’s already warm outside.”

“What happened to you forgiving me, huh?” he brings his face closer, brushing his nose against your cheek, “Where's your mouth at?”

“You don’t get a kiss until you take your jacket off.” 

With one more glance over you, he began tugging off his jacket with no more complaints.

You watch as he tosses the item of clothing back into the truck, glancing over the way his biceps flex with each movement. It starts a ripple along his shoulders, igniting the muscles all the way through his back. You dig your teeth into the plump of your lips at the sight.

He can always feel your eyes.

 “You checkin’ me out now?” 

He steps towards you, his large palms cupping your face. Leaning down, he presses his lips against yours, giving you a couple of pecks in addition to his apology.

You pucker your lips out, head shaking as you disagree, “No. Don’t need your ego any bigger than it is,” you stand on your toes, “You still didn’t say you loved me.”

“I tell you that shit all the time. You want me to say it again?” 

His thumb trails over your cheek, “You think I’m lying?” 

The way his other hand cups around your jaw, his long fingers now pressing against the back of your neck makes it hard for you to focus. When he’s close to you like this, you get a bit dazed.

You sigh a bit, twisting your sandal into the ground. It’s not that you weren’t intimate within your pregnancy, but with you being so close to your due date, sex was the last thing on your mind. But the masculine energy your husband wafted was almost intoxicating at times. You wanted to breathe him in. 

You say softly, “C’mon, Toji. I wanna find a nice spot to sit in.”

Your husband tuts in annoyance. However, when you call him by his name, it ignites a spark within his dark gaze. His hand slowly unwraps itself from cupping your face with a gentle motion. 

“Are you alright to walk?”

Pressing a hand against his chest, your fingers trail over his pecs. Hard. His scent mixed with the aroma of his clothes made you drowsy at times— The way his warm fingers traveled to the small of your back, it always felt like home. 

“You gonna’ carry me if I’m not?”

“Shit, you know I will.”

You giggle a bit as he pulls away from you, going over to the trunk to tug down the door of it, throwing the bag of essentials over his shoulder to bring on the hill. You reach for your journal as you begin to lead the way into the forest—You never noticed the natural waddle your body had, swaying a bit with each step as you searched for the perfect spot. 

“It’s so pretty here, baby,” you smile from behind, “We should’ve had our baby shower here!”

“You really wanna get into that argument again?”

Toji’s eyes glanced over the way your mini dress swayed, the soft pink pretty against your skin, off the shoulder material hugging the swell of your heavy breasts. The way your ass bounced with it—He wasn’t usually a fan of shorter dresses on you, but he had to admit you looked good. Your body was full and feminine. He craved you.

You slow down in your steps, turning towards him with a scrunched nose. You raise your hand for his own as you reply, “Why you’ always think I’m trying to argue? You’re making my feet hurt.”

“I told you not to wear those damn sandals. You know they make your feet ache.” 

His hand grasps onto yours like second nature, your fingertips intertwining—Intentional.

“But they go nicely with my dress,” you frown, “Don’t I look pretty?”

You’re still waddling, despite putting your weight along his—You hate how tired you feel yourself becoming, huffing a bit with each step.

“You are pretty. You’re always pretty,” He mutters, leaning into you. 

His grey eyes glance over the way your face had a flush to it. You were panting a bit, chest heaving with each breath. His hand reaches up, his palm brushing your dark curls behind your ear.

“You good, baby? Wanna go back down the trail?”

You shake your head from side to side, huffing, “Mm—Mm—we’re almost there, I wanna sit at the top of the hill.” 

“Kirei josei.”

You're familiar with the name, as he’d taught you a couple of phrases—Pretty girl. 

“I don’t need you going into labor before you make it up the hill—you’re tired. Just say you want me to carry you.”

Another thing with your pregnancy—how all over the place your emotions could be. You had the talent to cry on cue.

Like now.

Toji’s constant questioning has your throat a little heavy, your watering eyes glancing to the side of you as you sharply remind, “I’m not helpless,” using your other hand to hold your belly, your legs aching as you begin following the incline towards the top. 

When you begin to sniffle, he knows. He can't be as much of an ass as he normally is—that's the effect you have on him—He has to be patient, his hand tightening around yours.

"Baby, I'm just trying to be considerate. I know you’ve got it, alright? Just a couple more steps.”

You nod your head, blinking away your tears as you follow him upward. When you finally make it to the top, you’re breathless, watching as he quickly places the blanket atop of the grass. 

You’re holding onto your belly as you exhale, “She has to be over five pounds already.”

His deep tone releases a chuckle, hand gripping the curve of your back as he gently guides you towards the blanket, your body lowering itself with your hands clutching his bicep.

Toji’s already tugging your journal out of your hand, setting it on the blanket, free palm giving a smack to your ass, “Probably more. You’ve been a fuckin’ soldier carrying her, baby.” 

Your hips shudder a bit at his palm, finally able to catch your breath as you stare over the horizon. It’s more beautiful than the last time you’d come—vibrant green grass, a field of miniature pink flowers spread across the top, running all the way back down to the bottom. The air feels cooler, your breathing going back to normal as you softly smile at the scenery. 

“You remember when you proposed to me? Here?”

"You didn't even let me,” A gruff chuckle releases from his lips, "Your little ass said yes as soon as I mentioned I had something important to give you. You knew exactly what was in that box."

You giggle, pulling him down next to you as you say, “Maybe I was a little overzealous—But I was so happy.”

You reach towards your picnic basket, opening the top as you pull out the wrapped up food, “I made those pepper jack sandwiches you like. With the sourdough bread?”

"With romaine lettuce?”

“Mhmm.”

His palm rests on your jaw, turning your face up towards him, lips pecking against yours,"You didn't have to do all this, Kirei josei. You're already givin’ me my baby girl."

“There’s two of me now. More love to give, hm?” You kiss him back, “I know you’re hungry,” you hand him the sandwich, digging back towards the basket as you want your favorite fruit—strawberries. As usual, your husband scarfed it down in seconds, munching like a predator that hadn't eaten in days. He would never change.

You always enjoyed each other's company, talkative or not. You laid along the soft fuzz of the blanket as you wrote within your journal, rolling your eyes as your husband stood a couple feet away to take a business call, unable to stop his habit of smoking. But you couldn’t lie—watching his eyes narrow, full lips holding the bud within his mouth, deep voice harshly pushing out his native language—it was attractive. Something in your body throbbed, not in a way you were supposed to in public. 

Another reminder of your stubbornness—you knew that spring time was the worst, the pollen within the area attacking your body like a swarm. You held your journal within your hand as you kept writing, every so often pressing the booklet to your face as you sneezed.

Toji makes his way back towards you, one of his hands resting along your thigh. He’s close, his breath tickling along your neck as he questions, "You cold, baby?"

His voice is in your ear. You’re not cold, but a chill comes through your spine at that. You then give him a sneeze in response, the sound soft as you lightly shriek through it. 

You shake your head, nose becoming red as you huff, “Just allergies.”

"That's why you're supposed to take your pills," he mutters, his eyes glancing over the way your nose is scrunched. He thinks you're cute. 

“Want me to go grab them from the truck?”

“I’m fine,” you reassure, leaning your head on his shoulder as you press your journal up towards his face, “Look, I wrote some more names. Wanna hear 'em’?”

"Show me.” 

You could feel his chest vibrating, lips pressing a kiss on top of your head. Even sitting, he's large against your frame, and it doesn't seem to help your libido. 

“Okay, I found—Umeko, which means apricot, or plum. And you call me Amai, which means sweet, so she could our my lil’ Umeko!—yeah?” You lean your head up, pointing at the doodles around the name you’d drawn.

“She’s gonna be sweet like her momma,” he gruffly chuckles, his thumb traveling over the curve of your thigh, “You don’t want any western names?”

You squint, “And have my black ass family give basic names? Yeah, no,” you ignore his grin, feeling his nose brush along your throat as he adjusts himself into your shoulder, “Every time I tell them my name ideas, they say that they’re weird. I’m okay with more cultural names.”

"I like that one. Umeko,” He repeats, "You wanna use it?"

The way his breath is warm against your neck makes your throat go dry. The way his fingers trail over your thigh—It was difficult to even focus on the topic at hand. Your eyes flutter each time his palm cups your hip.

You adjust yourself a bit, keeping your eyes against the journal as you reply, “I’ll put it at the top.”

As said before, he notices everything about you. His voice drops lower, his palm gripping your hip a little tighter as he feels the energy you emit. 

“You alright, momma? You’ getting sleepy?”

You’re drowsy again. You watch his palm slide down your leg, reaching for your bare foot, squeezing the tense muscle beneath his fingers. It feels good. 

You shift yourself even more as you quietly admit, “No—my feet still are hurting a bit, though.”

“Should’ve told me earlier.” 

From the way he’s leaning down, his lips are pressing against your shoulder. One hand massages your foot, the other kneading the soft flesh of your thighs. That thick thumb, it continuously brushes over the inner sides. You sigh as he massages both feet, kneading to release the tension within your muscles. He moves to where you lean your back against his chest, lifting the point of your foot towards the sky. It makes you giggle a bit, rubbing at the swell of your belly.

“You good?” 

His tone is huskier now. Toji’s hot breath makes you flutter your lashes, head slightly falling to the side to expose the skin of your throat—And he latches onto it, sucking the flesh between his lips.

Your curls are soft against his shoulder as you lean your head back, eyes fluttering shut the moment his mouth attaches to your skin. You snake your hand upwards, reaching for his hair as you find a lock of it to tug on.

 You breathily sigh, “Y—Yeah…”

The way he’s kissing your throat, his tongue glides before he sucks the flesh back between his teeth, it’s sultry, his fingers wrapping around your ankle, gently taking your leg to raise over his own.

He does it with the other in a matter of seconds, your legs spread open against the blanket, only hidden by the material of your dress. You tug a little more on his hair, your hand nervously clutching your belly, eyes rolling a bit as he continuously sucks on your throat. 

“T—Toji,” your voice is soft, “We’re outside, baby…”

“I know.”

His voice is deep, the heat of his breath makes you shudder. His hand travels up your thigh, slowly inching past your dress. 

“Just give me ten minutes, baby. Let me have you.”

Your hand slides lower from his hair, holding the nape of his neck the moment your legs are being pulled wider. Your chest expands as you feel his fingers swiping in between your inner thighs, his middle and ring finger rubbing against the fabric of your panties, grinding at your clit. Your eyes blink shut against his throat, hiding your face within his shoulder as you whimper. 

“Shit—you’re wet, baby. That fast?”

Toji’s voice makes you hide your face more into the skin of his throat, a small gasp emitting from your lips as he dips his hand beneath your thong. Your pussy keens beneath his touch. Your hips tense as you raise them a bit, eyes closing as you whimper again, “Just rub it a little…” 

He hears you, placing the pad of his fingers against your clit, massaging in the softest way. He can feel how warm you are, how much you want this.

The pressure makes your eyes screw shut—you moan into his neck. You're quiet, but he can still hear you, feeling the way your breath hitches against his flesh.

He's not in a rush despite the need he has for you. He takes his time, watching your body react to his touch. The way your hips move, the way your chest slowly rises and falls, the way your nails dig into his skin. You’re sensitive.

His free hand reaches up, cupping your cheek as he turns your face towards him. He glares at you. He wants to see your eyes, needing to see the pleasure written all over your face. Leaning in, Toji pressing his lips against yours in a slow, passionate kiss.

You’re panting against his mouth, lightly pulling back as you press your forehead against his. Your lips tremble into a pout, unable to stop the gasp your mouth pulls, your thighs spreading even wider—your mind is spinning. 

“Put them in me, baby.”

“That’s how you ask me?”

“Put them i—in me,” you attempt at a softer tone, “Please.”

He’s already nudging his fingers in, curling them all while pushing them in between your folds, spreading your opening around his knuckles. Your mouth parts open against his, eyes rolling back, thighs trembling as you hide your whine in between his lips. Toji groans.

It’s as if you forget where you’re at—the moment he takes you to a place of wanting him, you can’t repeat the things you do without blushing. You reach for his wrist, your fingers digging into his skin as you try to push him in deeper. You're breathless, your entire body trembling as you begin tugging his wrist up and down, your arousal sloshing each time his fingers go deeper. 

You pout against his mouth, “Ughn,” brushing your nose against his cheek.

“Baby, you gotta keep quiet,” he reminds at first, his breath hot against your ear— But he can’t help himself, look at you.

 He then grunts to you, “You sound so fuckin’ good. Say it again.” 

“Ughn,” you breathe out in a filthy repetition, your voice a whisper, your head tilting backwards, eyes half-lidded as you stare up at the sky. Your cheeks are a light shade of pink, your mouth parted open.

“Look at that shit just going in.”

He refers to his fingers, curling into you each time they scathe at the flush of your walls, squeezing the intrusion of his palm. 

You’re grinding yourself against his lap, “Take it out, baby. I’ll be quiet.” 

He doesn’t stop, and it feels as if he doesn’t believe your words. You were loud, always had been. 

But you were also stubborn. 

You pull your legs from over his, managing to turn yourself around to straddle him this time around, pulling him by the back of his neck into a kiss. Your tongue swirls within his mouth as you push him back, Toji flat against the blanket as you pull your mouth from his, “Wanna ride your face.”

You’re already climbing forward, gently pressing your knees to the sides of his head, keeping your hips elevated to not suffocate him. His eyes are focused on the way your folds glisten under the sunlight. You giggle at the way he kisses the bottom of your stomach, the bump of your belly making him grunt.

You tug at your bottom lip again, shivering as you feel Toji’s breath against your folds. You let out a soft whine when you feel his tongue, rotating in circles, swirling it against your clit, dragging it all around your folds. 

You shudder, “A—Ah, b—baby…” twisting your fingers in his hair, using your other hand to place his palms against your hips. 

His hands latch onto your hips, helping guide you in the pace you want. He keeps his tongue moving, flicking against your clit, dragging it across your entrance, swirling it around your labia. He groans, loving the taste of you, your scent filling his nostrils like a perfume. 

He can’t stop himself—he’s sucking at your clit, feeling as you move your hips to his rhythm—He’s making your arousal worse. 

“‘Need you, Daddy.”

There it is. That fucking name. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, “Put that shit in. C’mon.” 

You slide yourself down until you’re straddling his lap, reaching beneath yourself to pull his tip from beneath his jeans. His voice is husky as he questions, “You comfortable, baby? I’m hittin’ your stomach?”

You shake your head, pecking his lips, “I’m okay, baby. Can’t wait anymore,” your voice is high, too drunk of a lustful intoxication. 

Nudging your nose against his, you’re slapping his tip against your pussy—he makes a face at you, which makes you lightly giggle in return. Placing your hands along his chest, your curls hang above his face as you sway your hips, sinking yourself down, splitting your folds open, engulfing your walls around the length of him. You can only hear the nature around the two of you. It’s silent—both of your mouths parting open as you look at each other. You try not to react to the pleasurable pinch you feel, but you can’t help it—your curls fly up a bit as you press your nose into his, breathlessly panting another giggle, quickly turning to a deep whimper. 

You’re trembling, your voice tiny as you quiver, “O—oh shit…” 

He feels the heat between your legs, it’s warmer than anything. It feels good against his skin, his shoulders flexing as he tries not to move. He can feel your breath panting into his mouth, the way your body shakes from the feeling of you sinking down onto him. 

His palm is wrapped along the nape of your curls. You keep his mouth close as you raise your hips a bit, lowering them back down. Your voice is so soft as you quiver, “Oh my god…”

You begin to find a bit of a pace, still going slow, but moving as your fingers dig into his shoulder, whining. 

His voice is husky, “Keep goin’,” he urges.

You feel his forearm adding pressure to your lower back, helping you drop yourself down a little faster. The strength he has adds on by the second, and you’re lightly bouncing—it makes you frown, a pout coming to your lips as you whimper again, “U—ughn…” 

He watches your face twist, eyes closing as you move against him, those pretty lips pouting out as a whimper goes from the back of your throat. He watches you bite the bottom of your lip, the way your breath is heavy.

“That little pout,” he chuckles, “It feels that good?”

He has you right where he needs you—your brown cheeks flush as you lean onto his shoulder, pressing your toes into the ground for more leverage—your eyes roll back heavily and you bounce on top of him, material of your dress swaying with each clap of your ass.

“You love me?” He questions, watching your body, up and down, low eyes taking notice of the arousal that coats his tip—you’re creaming. 

You nod in response, teeth dug into your lip to mask the petulant babbles you want to release. But that’s when Toji grunts, “Say you fuckin’ love me,” the word being met with his palm spanking you, gripping the flesh of your ass, plopping you down onto his dick even harder than before.

You whine, “I love you,” pressing your face within his jaw, “Can’t wait to have your baby…”

A low groan escapes him, “You’re gonna be a pretty ass momma, baby,” his hands gripping onto your ass as he thrusts upwards, meeting your movements. You can feel the way his muscles flex, the way his breathing becomes heavier, the way his heart races. Those grey eyes bore into your brown ones. 

“Fuckin’ nasty—You love it when I spank you, huh?” His voice is rough, eyes burning into your sockets. He smacks your ass again, watching the way your cheeks jiggle.

“Fuck.”

You’re moaning, throwing your head back, breasts bouncing as you continue to ride him. You're soaking him at this point, your arousal dripping down his shaft, trailing his balls.

“…T—Toji!” you nearly startle yourself at your own voice, cupping your hands against his face, tears returning within your feline eyes as you warn, “Gonna c—cum…” you’re covering your mouth, skin flushed, a sob faltering in between your fingers.

“Don’t cover that shit.”

He intertwined his fingers with yours, leaning your weight onto him, gaze locked within your eyes— he’s thrusting upwards, hitting directly at your g-spot. You’re cumming.

“It’s okay, momma,” he promises, “Relax. Just cum.” 

And you do—You throw your head back, gentle voice rippling a sob into the trees, his name, anything, tears streaming down your face—Your walls are milking him, and he loves every second of it.

His large palm drags along the top of your mouth, still angling his hips into you while muffling your squeals, leaning up to press your forehead against his. It was rare for him to moan, but when he did, you whimpered in return, feeling the warmth of his cum filling your walls. 

You repeat in a softer tone, “I love you, Fushiguro.”

“I love you.” 

His voice was a groan. 

His jaw falls slack, teeth digging into the bottom flesh of his plush lips. That scarred mouth releases another grunt of pleasure, keeping you close as you catch your breath. 

His hand then wraps around your own, his fingers trailing along your wedding band, placing both of your palms against your belly.

“You okay?”

You nod your head, face flushed as you softly giggle, “Perfect.”

His hand leaves yours, tracing a pattern along the top of your skin. The feeling of him running his long fingers along your tummy made your skin buzz. As if on cue, the baby decides to kick.

You gasp, “Baby, she’s kicking! Oh no. You interrupted her nap!”

He chuckles, leaning down to press his lips against the bump before speaking into your belly.

"Umeko, Daddy’s sorry.” 

There’s a couple of kicks in response—She didn’t forgive him.

“Awe, you said the name I picked out.” 

Why were your eyes watering? You weren’t sure. You giggle as you’re teary eyed, pulling him up as you press multiple kisses to his face, ignoring his grunt in response. 

You give him a sigh, “I’m hungry. And I have to pee!” 

“You’re making me wanna smoke again,” Toji pinched the bridge of his nose, “Do you wanna pee, or eat first?”

“I’ll go pee, I guess.”

“C’mere. Let me help you up.”

“Wanna roll me down the hill?”

“No, woman.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re no fun. Let's go!” 

[gothcsz]

Hands To Myself | Javier Peña x F!Reader | ~4k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You get to know the handsome stranger sitting next to you on your overnight flight to Mexico.

Tags: smut, reader is ovulating, hand job, fingering, dirty talk, lust at first sight again, sexual acts in public (on a plane), let's just pretend this is realistic okay, pwp, blowjob to completion, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able-bodied, reader is a woman of color yet everyone is encouraged to read, no physical descriptions, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: this is all @probablyreadinsmut's fault tbh. coming into my inbox with horny thoughts, knowing i have to do something about it 😩 hehe i hope you guys like this, it's nothing special... i just need this man in any way i can get him! let me know what you thinkkkkkk🖤

You knew you were fucked the second you saw him at the gate. He isn’t just attractive—he’s ridiculously attractive. The kind of hot that only exists in movies or in passing, like some guy you make eye contact with and never see again. Except this time, he wasn’t just passing through. He was standing right there.

To make matters worse, your hormones are out of control. Peak ovulation. Just being around a man has your skin buzzing, like your body is betraying you on a biological level.

So yeah, you looked. How could you not? He’s tall, has broad shoulders, leaner than what you usually go for but still built in a way that makes your brain short-circuit.

Then the universe really had to mess with you—you are assigned the seat right next to him for the overnight flight.

Your stomach drops. Suddenly, your go-to comfy travel outfit, leggings and a cardigan, feels way too basic.

“I’m at the window seat,” you say, trying to sound normal.

He looks up, meeting your gaze, and smiles—actually smiles. His brown eyes are warm and a little intrigued as he gives you a once over.

“Okay.”

Just that one word and you are already overthinking. How good his voice would sound in your ear as he’s—

No, you won’t make things harder on yourself by having intrusive sexual thoughts about some stranger. No matter how good looking he is.

You shove your carry-on into the overhead bin and awkwardly step aside so he can stand and let you in. His body brushes against yours, and you get a whiff of his cologne, something woodsy, mixed with the unmistakable scent of whiskey from the airport bar.

Okay… so maybe you’d been watching him for longer than just at the gate. But who could blame you? The man is truly a sight to behold. It’s not like you were being a creep about it.

You mutter a soft “thanks” and sink into your seat, trying very hard to act normal while the flight attendants go through their safety spiel, though it’s hard to focus when you can feel his presence right next to you.

You need a distraction—fast. So, in a last-ditch effort to stop acting like a feral idiot, you pluck your book from your backpack and try to read.

It works, kind of. Not really.

“So, what’s waiting for you in Playa del Carmen?”

His voice, low and raspy, cuts through your attempt at reading—not that you’d absorbed a single word, still stuck on the same page since you opened it.

You glance over, and of course, he’s already looking at you. His leather jacket is gone, leaving him in a short sleeved button-down, a few undone buttons teasing the tanned skin of his neck, his thick biceps straining against the fabric.

You take too long to answer because he tilts his head slightly, lips twitching like he’s holding back a smirk. “Sorry—abrupt fuckin’ question.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You stumble over your words, mentally cringing at yourself. His brows raise slightly, amused, and you don’t miss the way his mustache tics when he presses his lips together. 

“A friend’s birthday trip. I got caught up at work, so I had to take a later flight at the last minute. What about you?”

He hums, the sound deep and thoughtful. “Work.” That’s all he offers. “Not as fun as what you’ll be getting up to, I’m sure.”

You bite your lip, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your book. “I’ve heard the beaches are beautiful. I’m excited to just lounge and take in the sun. It’s been so long since I’ve gone on a proper vacation.”

Your tongue is loose despite the way you’re vibrating under the weight of his attention.

“I know that feeling. Don’t even think my body knows what a vacation is…” He trails off, leaning back in his seat, thighs spreading in that way men do, which you usually find annoying but something about the way he does it has your pussy clenching, and you try no to let your eyes drop down to his crotch.

“How’s the book?”

You blink slowly, returning your attention to the paperback in your hand. “Got a slow start but so far it’s been alright.”

“I bet. You’ve been stuck on the same page since we took off. Must be the most riveting paragraph ever written.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and if it were anybody else, you’d be weirded out by their observation. Being hot does have its privileges. “Maybe I just like rereading. Really taking in the point the author is trying to make.”

“Uh-huh, right…” He chuckles softly and that sound triggers the desire that seeps into every pore of your skin.

The conversation continues flowing thereafter, which you definitely did not expect. His name is Javier, and he’s constantly traveling for work—though he’s vague on the details, and you’re not about to grill a stranger for his life story.

Instead, the topics meander, easy and flirtatious, both of you toeing the line between casual and something else.

You swear he’s flirting. He leans in slightly when you speak, holds your eyes captive just a beat too long, like he’s in no rush to look away.

You’re noticing everything the deeper you get into this… thing. The way lips form around each word, full and obnoxiously kissable. The way his brown eyes glint when he talks about things that should be trivial but feel interesting because he’s the one saying them. How the tendons in his forearms flex whenever he gestures, his fingers long and strong, the kind of hands that could make a woman very happy.

Your horny brain is spiraling.

“A mango marg is my go to. Preferably one of those ridiculously oversized ones with sugar on the rim.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, that tracks.”

You arch a brow. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He scratches his jaw, flicking his tongue over his teeth. You admire how chiseled his jaw is. “Means you like to have fun. You probably get away with a lot.”

“And you think I get away with things?”

His eyes flick down to your lips, just for a second. “I think you could, if you wanted to.”

You cross your legs, shifting in your seat like that’s going to help anything. It just makes it worse. Focus. He’s just a hot stranger. A hot stranger that smells like whiskey and cedarwood and keeps throwing you these amused little glances like he knows what the fuck he’s doing to you.

You should probably end this before you embarrass yourself. But instead, you just keep talking, keep flirting, and keep waiting to see just how far this can go.

“Do I have something on my face?”

Javier’s voice snaps you back to reality, and you blink, heat settling on your cheeks as your brain scrambles to catch up.

“Sorry, what?”

His lips curve slightly like he’s fighting a grin, but his eyes give him away. “You keep staring at my mouth…” He trails off, but there’s something in the way he says it. As if he’s caught you red-handed and is enjoying watching you squirm.

Your stomach clenches. Your thighs press together on instinct.

Fuck.

Panic surges through you, and suddenly, the cabin feels way too small, the air too thick. “No, uh—there’s nothing there. I just… I zone out sometimes.” You clear your throat, fingers fumbling with your seatbelt. “Would you mind letting me get to the restroom?”

You sound as pathetic as you feel, but Javier doesn’t let up. His smirk stays put, eyes flicking over your face like he’s contemplating something.

Still, he nods. “Sure.”

He stands, stepping aside, and as you squeeze past him, his hand just barely grazes your lower back. Light enough to be innocent, intentional enough to send a full-body shiver down your spine.

You swallow hard, pretending not to notice—pretending not to feel the slick heat between your legs pulse at the contact—and walk as casually as possible down the aisle.

The moment you lock the restroom door behind you, you press your palms against the tiny counter, breathing hard.

Your reflection stares back at you, pupils blown, lips parted like you just stumbled out of a damn makeout session. 

You’re hot. Turned on from nothing but a little eye contact and some shameless flirting. And the worst part? It’s not going away anytime soon. Especially since you’re sitting so fucking close to him. Your body is wound tight, aching at the worst possible time.

Your panties are soaked, borderline ruined, pussy crying to get some relief, and you actually consider slipping a hand down there and rubbing one out. But you know yourself. Getting off with your fingers is a slow, frustrating process, and the last thing you need is to be locked in an airplane restroom, chasing an orgasm while Javier is sitting just outside, existing like that.

So you suck it up. Splash some cool water on your face. Take a deep breath. Get it together.

When you step back into the aisle, he’s already standing, leaning casually against the row of seats as if his demeanor and charm aren’t totally putting you under his spell. He looks even better now than he did before you left.

You give him a tight-lipped, awkward smile as you slide back into your seat. He follows, sinking into his own with a quiet grunt, the sound low and rough enough to send another spark of pleasure straight to your cunt.

“Everything good?” He asks smoothly, but there’s an undercurrent of playfulness to it, like he already knows the answer.

You force your legs to stay still, clenching your thighs subtly as you nod.

“Mhm.”

He hums. “You don’t have to lie, you know.”

Your eyes snap up to his, heartbeat hammering. “What?”

“I know when a woman’s turned on. And you haven’t exactly been subtle about it.”

Your stomach drops, your whole body flooding with embarrassment. “That’s ridiculous—”

“Nothin’ to be embarrassed about.” He shrugs. “Been thinkin’ about how good your ass looks in those leggings since I saw you back at the airport.”

Oh, you’re so fucked.

Your breath stutters, fingers gripping the armrest as if that’ll do anything to ground you. Maybe this is a dream, it has to be. No way he’s reciprocating the horny vibes you’ve been exuding because of your damn ovulation cycle. 

“Javier…” His name falls from your lips, shaky, uncertain.

His expression doesn’t change—still cool, still lazy, but there’s a darkness to it now. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything…” His knuckles graze your thigh, featherlight, making you shiver before he pulls away. “But I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like I’m not attracted to you.”

You lick your lips, watching the way he follows the movement, how his hand balls into a fist against his leg. The cabin is dim now, most passengers lost in their own worlds or asleep, and the seats around you are conveniently unoccupied. The flight attendants have finished their last walkthrough, leaving you tucked away in a private little pocket of space.

Your pulse thrums, a decision forming in the haze of arousal clouding your mind. “What if…” You hesitate, but then let the thought take control, logic be damned. “What if I wanted to do something?”

Javier’s brows lift slightly, intrigue flashing across his face. The shift is instant—his relaxed posture stiffens, his jaw ticks, and his eyes dip just slightly as if assessing exactly how far you’re willing to go.

You’re barely breathing as he lifts the armrest between you, his body pressing in tight, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. You almost pass out.

“Yeah?” His voice is nothing but a whisper, matching the lust that’s thrumming in your veins. “Like what?”

The warmth of his breath has you letting out a soft, involuntary whimper.

“Anything,” you murmur, fidgeting with your fingers, the need unbearable. “I just need you to touch me.”

Javi exhales a low, quiet laugh through his nose, and you can feel his smirk against your skin. His lips ghost along the side of your jaw, teasing, taunting.

“I can do that.” His fingers then trail up your thigh agonizingly slow, stopping just at the hem of your leggings. “Just need you to keep quiet.”

You nod weakly, head tipping back against the seat as his mouth finds your neck. He starts slow, pressing soft kisses along the sensitive skin before sucking lightly, dragging his teeth over your pulse. You resist the urge to squirm as his large palm moves up your body, fingertips teasing along the curve of your breast over your top.

Your nipples tighten instantly, and when he pinches one between his fingers, both of you let out a quiet groan.

“So sensitive. You need more?”

You bite your lip, nodding desperately again. “Yes.”

His hand slips beneath your shirt and finally—rough fingertips meet your bare skin. He palms your breast, kneading, tugging at your nipple, sending sharp little sparks of pleasure straight to your pussy.

You shift, desperately trying to find any friction. Your horniness is maddening and he knows it.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs against your jaw, tongue flicking out to taste your skin. “So worked up already. Bet you’re soaked.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you whimper, hips rolling ever so slightly.

Javier groans at the movement, shifting even closer, his thigh pressing against yours as he works your tits over with a practiced hand.

His lips move up to your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. You turn your head, eyes locking with his for a brief moment before you both give in—lips crashing together, mouths desperate and hungry.

He can kiss.

His tongue slides against yours, tasting and exploring. The fingers at your breast keep working, rolling your nipple between his fingers, twisting just enough to make you gasp against his lips.

“Javi…” His name is exhaled breathlessly. “More. Please.”

He tilts his head slightly. “Yeah?” Leaving your tits, he moves down between your legs and you spread your thighs, giving him enough room to begin rubbing you over your leggings.

You let out a sharp gasp, back arching slightly. The pressure has you melting, chasing the touch you so desperately need.

Javier watches you, drinking in the slight furrow of your brow, how your lips purse. “Goddamn.” He can’t help but nip at your lower lip, gripping your thigh with his other hand as he grinds a little harder against your pussy. “You soaked right through these.”

Your fingers dig into his forearm, the teasing unbearable.

“You’re so—” You shudder, exhaling shakily and he’s living for it. “You’re so fucking hot, I couldn’t help it.”

“I could probably make you come just like this, huh? Needy little thing needs her pussy played with so bad, she’s whoring herself out on a fuckin’ plane just to get an orgasm.”

Your jaw hangs open at his filthy words.

Javier is clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. His fingers keep moving, slow and firm, while your hand drifts down, pressing against the hardness straining beneath his jeans. Even through the thick denim, he’s big, and when you squeeze just slightly, his hips jerk into your palm.

He groans into the kiss you’re sharing, enjoying your touch. “This is risky, you sure?”

You nod, struggling to think through the fog of lust clouding your mind. “I don’t care.”

That’s all it takes.

He pulls back, just enough for both of you to move quickly. You shrug off your cardigan, tucking it beneath you before slipping your leggings and panties down to your mid thigh. You’re not about to put your bare ass on this plane seat.

He unbuckles his belt, freeing himself from his jeans, and holy shit.

Your mouth goes dry. He’s thick, a swollen, flushed cock with a prominent vein running down the side, curving just enough to make your walls flutter at the thought of him fucking your cunt.

Javi catches your lingering gaze and smirks. “You just gonna look, or—?”

You drag your tongue across your palm before wrapping it around his leaking cock, your touch making him shudder. Slowly, you stroke him, spreading the precum with your thumb, gliding it over the sensitive head before giving a firm squeeze, earning a growl from deep in his chest.

His fingers slip between your thighs, spreading your pussy lips open, and he wastes no time in teasing your sensitive labia, dragging his touch up and down attentively.

You moan quietly as to not get yourself caught. He groans at the feeling of you, slick and hot, his digits smearing your arousal all over your pretty pussy before pressing against your swollen clit.

“If we weren’t on this goddamn plane I’d fuck the shit out of you.”

You can’t hold back your soft whine, your head tilting back, wrist still moving, his own fingers working magic between your thighs.

“How? Please Javi tell me how you’d fuck me.”

He buries his head into your neck, licking, biting, sucking at your skin, his thick fingers now breaching the mouth of your cunt.

It’s pure bliss—the stretch so much deeper, fuller than your own fingers ever manage. His thick digits work you open, pressing against every sensitive spot inside you. The way he drags against your inner walls has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, but it’s the relentless pressure on your fleshy pearl that wrecks you, erasing every thought but him.

“I’d have you spread out, my head buried between your legs, fucking you with my tongue until you’re wet enough to take this big cock.” His hips grind into your jerking palm to emphasize his point.

You can only imagine how his wet tongue would feel up against your flesh, tasting every crevice, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you.

“Probably start over you, wanna see that pretty face while I slide inside this tight pussy baby, fuck,” he groans, fingers now knuckles deep inside your cunt and you moan, slipping into this fantasy with him, imagining how good it’d feel to have his dick stretching you out.

“Not really a missionary girl but I know you’d make me feel good, Javi.”

His thumb is slick with your sticky wetness, allowing him to swirl your clit around, massaging it and making your pussy drool even more. Your nipples are hardened and oversensitive, adding to the bliss when they brush against the fabric of your shirt with every deep inhale and exhale you take. 

Javi’s fingers begin to thrust into you more earnestly, the soft squelch of your pussy getting finger fucked thankfully drowned out by the hum of the plane. “How would you want it then? Tell me how you’d take it.”

Another bead of precum dollops from his slit and your mouth waters, picking up the pace to match the stroking of his fingers inside you.

“On top. I’d bounce on your cock until you’re filling me up. Put my tits in your face, make you suck on them.”

A thin sheen of sweat clings to your temples, the heat of his kisses still lingering on your neck making your temperature spike like a fever you don’t want to break.

Javier gets desperate, leaning in to put his lips on yours, imagining the way your pussy would feel while you rode him. You clench around his fingers, your orgasm on the brink of making a mess all over his hand.

“You’d let me come inside you?” His voice is a husky murmur, almost taunting, laden with lust as he cups your jaw with his other hand before sliding lower, wrapping firmly around your throat. Not squeezing, just holding, keeping you in place as he curls his fingers, brazen eyes boring into yours.

Your breath stutters as ecstacy coils impossibly tight. “Mhm,” you nod weakly, tears welling in your eyes from how good it all feels.

A wicked smirk spreads across his lips, his grip keeping you steady as he drags you closer. “Naughty girl,” he murmurs. “Fuckin’ love that.”

His lips crash against yours again, swallowing your cries as his fingers work you harder, scissoring inside you, his fat thumb flicking your clit rapidly. 

It sends you tumbling over the edge, your entire body clenches, muscles locking as waves of pleasure ripple through you, your release coating his fingers while you moan into his mouth, trying to keep quiet, trying not to let the whole damn plane know what he’s doing to you.

Your grip on his cock tightens but you lose your rhythm as he lets you ride out your orgasm, whispering praises against your lips, not seeming bothered by the lack of attention at his shaft.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to catch your breath, blinking away the stars clouding your vision while he pulls his fingers out, a sticky web following.

Javier lifts his fingers between you, still slick with your release, dark eyes flicking to yours as he takes in the scent of your pussy before he’s licking at them, using the hold he still has on your neck to bring you in so you’re both making out with his wet fingers between the two of you, your tongue moving sinfully, getting lost in the act.

You break away when his fingers are licked clean, attempting to catch your breath. After regaining some control, you continue to work his cock, urging him to slide into the unoccupied third seat by the aisle so you have room to take him in your mouth.

Javi blinks, caught off guard, dick twitching in your grasp as he registers what you’re suggesting.

“You sure?” His hands flex like he’s barely holding himself back.

“Yes. Don’t want to make a mess, right? Just make sure no one’s looking.” You purr, pulling your legging and underwear back up before shifting your body and bending over to lick at his tip, circling around his head before you’re taking as much as you can into your mouth.

The positioning is a little cramped and awkward, but you don’t care. He tastes so good, feels even better on your tongue. The blood is roaring in your ears, you can’t even hear any of the quieted noises you’re pulling from him but you do feel his hand landing on the back of your neck and he pushes you further down, forcing you to take almost the entirety of his cock down your throat.

You fondle his balls, sucking in your cheeks and bobbing up and down quickly. His stomach tightens and before you know it, ropes of warm and salty cum are filling your mouth, his fingers digging into your skin. You moan around him, slurping him up before pulling away with a soft pop, wiping at the corners of your mouth where the fluids had smeared.

He looks just as wrecked as you had when you came, his cheeks a little pink, eyes dilated, breathing heavily. He exhales a quiet, breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair before tucking himself back into his pants, watching you with something dangerously close to admiration.

You lean in, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to his lips, returning the favor and letting him taste the last traces of himself.

“Where are you staying? This can’t be the last time I see you.”

You tell him the name of the resort, watching as that familiar cocky smirk creeps back onto his face.

“Okay,” he murmurs, mind already made up. “Can’t let you walk away after that. Pussy’s too good. Hope your friends don’t mind me stealing you for a night or two.”

He caresses your cheek and you melt into him, resting your chin on his shoulder, staring up at him with starry eyes. You already know you’re going to get the lecturing of your life once you disclose what just transpired to your homegirls.

“They will. Maybe I should extend my stay just a little longer…” Your fingers fidget with the buttons on his shirt.

“I’ll pay for it. Anything to see you again.”

Oh god, is this irresponsible of you? Probably. But you’re not thinking with your brain right now, no, you’re straight up thinking with your pussy.

“Deal.”

@almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiamore . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7. @mandaloriankait . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @almostfoxglove . @thundermartini . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @picketniffler . @getitoutofmymindwrites . @clubsoft . @bunniboo0015 . @kirsteng42 . @ivuravix . @joelmillerisapunk . @theestorm . @pasc4lfuzz . @manuymesut . @biapascal . @angiewatson .

[brenwritesss]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

⋆˚࿔Paige Bueckers x reader ❀˖°

Summary: You were done with Paige, but she keeps pulling you back in.

Warnings: smut

a/n: long-awaited part 3 is officially here. so sorry about that long wait

part 1 | part 2

paigebueckers started following you.

paigebueckers sent you a message.

I shouldn’t have said that.

The time of the message read 3:05 AM and even though it had been a restless few nights for you after the catastrophe at the bar, you tried your best to forget Paige’s existence and move on. But of course, Paige couldn’t help herself and she had to find any possible way to weave herself back into your life. And it started with her unblocking and messaging you to reel you back in.

You keep the message open, seeing that she’s active but close out of it when you decide that she’s not worth trying to get back. Out of sight out of mind right?

So you left her on read, a closing to that part of your life that you wanted to so desperately crawl back to but you couldn’t do that to yourself. Again. 

And that was how it started. These little things that Paige would do to reel you in and you wondered how she felt when she realized it wasn’t working. First it was the Instagram message, then it was hanging out with you and Azzi; although that didn’t last long when you would just leave, leaving Paige to deal with Azzi’s questions. Then she started “coincidentally” walking past your communications class when you would be leaving. Then it was liking your Instagram posts. 

She was trying to get to you and you weren’t going to let that happen again, no matter how hard she tried. 

Kathrine huffed as she sat up in your bed, watching you at your desk. “Are you seriously still mad at me?”

You don’t say anything and continue studying.

“Y/n, it’s Paige Bueckers. Who wouldn’t make out with her? I know you would.” The tone in her voice was condescending almost, as if you were some idiot she was lecturing.

You turn to her, looking her dead in the eyes. “You want to go make out with Paige, then go make out with her and shut the door on your way out.”

Kathrine’s eyes widen at you, earning you a scoff from her. She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Why the hell are you so bothered by it anyway? We’re not fucking dating so I can make out with whoever I want.”

You close your eyes, trying to fight the anger rising in your chest. “It’s not about you.” You say it so quietly, she can barely hear you.

“Speak up.”

“I said it’s not fucking about you,” you shout, louder than you had intended too.

“Then what is it?” Kathrine’s voice echoed throughout your room.

You slam your pen down on your desk, standing up from your seat and rubbing your hands on your face. Kathrine jumps at the sudden outburst, not knowing what you would do next. You had many options: kick her out, scream, tell her that Paige was your ex, pull her into your own heated make out session. But even now in your own dorm, Paige haunted your mind. So much to the point that you couldn’t even think of a good enough response to make up for the fact that you were letting this get to you this easily.

You take a deep breath, letting your hands fall from your face as you sit down on the bed beside her. “Sorry, I don’t know why I freaked out. It’s probably just midterms.”

Kathrine, weirded out and probably uncomfortable, shuffles away from you and grabs her stuff. “Yeah well you need to figure your shit out.”

You roll your eyes. “What do you mean?”

Kathrine stands up from the bed, moving towards your door. “I signed up for good fucking sex and the occasional cuddles in bed. Not,” she pauses, signaling to the space around you. “Whatever you have going on or whatever this is.”

You let out a laugh. “Believe me, I’m still looking for that good fucking sex.”

Kathrine’s eyes are practically bulging out of her head at this point. “Paige probably fucks better than you anyway.”

“Yeah good luck with that.” You stand up and open the door for her, waiting for her to walk out.

“Good luck?” She asks, not believing the scene before her.

“You’re not her type.”

Paigebueckers liked your post.

“Damnit,” you curse as the notification causes you to accidentally drop your glass cup in the sink. “Fuck.” You stare at the broken shards of glass in your sink. Even through Instagram she could still get to you and that was scary. How could a high school relationship fuck you up this bad? You didn’t think it would until you saw her the first time since. 

Paige never did anything specific to cause you to break up with her. In fact, throughout the entire relationship she was perfect and that made it a million times worse when you had to break up with her. You had been told by everyone that a high school relationship wouldn’t last in college and maybe breaking up with her was the right decision. Or maybe it wasn’t and this was you suffering the consequences.

“What the fuck happened?” Azzi asks, walking into your dorm which causes you to jump.

“God, Azzi what the fuck?” You place your hand on your chest, trying to catch your breath and she laughs as she walks over to peer over the sink.

She points to the glass. “You should really clean this up.”

You roll your eyes at her and give her shoulder a quick shove. “What are you doing here?”

Azzi holds up a paper bag with the Chick-Fil-A logo on it and you immediately broke into a smile which Azzi returns. “Figured you could use a pick-me-up.”

“You’re the best.”

Azzi sets the bag down on your bed and sits down, wrapping herself in your covers and taking a bite out of a waffle fry. “Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

“Shut up,” you mutter as you get in bed beside her. Azzi is already holding the fries towards you which you gladly take while you grab some buffalo sauce. Moments like these with Azzi were some you treasured deeply, not wanting to lose these little times that you could see her and be yourself around her. And all of that reminded you why you needed to stay away from Paige in the first place.

“She’s sorry y’know,” Azzi says quietly with her mouth stuffed with chicken nuggets.

Those words alone cause you to stop chewing and turn your head towards her. “What?”

“She told me about what happened at the bar and even though I don’t want whatever happened between you happening again, she is sorry for saying what she said.”

You looked into Azzi’s eyes which were sincere and that made you feel bad. Not because you felt bad for Paige but because you were unintentionally dragging Azzi into this whole mess which you were trying to forget.

“It’s whatever, I don’t care,” you say back, shrugging. “She’s entitled to her own opinion.”

“You’re not a bitch, Y/n.”

You turn away from her because deep down you knew Paige was right. You may not have been a bitch to everyone but you definitely had your moments. Especially with Paige and that made you feel even worse than you already did. Wrapping your comforter tighter around your body, you let yourself sink into your mattress. “Maybe not to you.”

Azzi moved closer to you, moving the food and wrapping her arm around you. “What Paige said was just her being angry for no fucking reason that didn’t have anything to do with you. Her words don’t make up the type of person you are which are none of the things she mentioned.”

“I’m just over her bullshit.”

You show up to class a week later, books in hand as you slide into your seat and placing them neatly on your desk. Fishing a pen out of your backpack, you sigh as you prepare yourself for another boring lecture. Your professor begins the class with the usual procedure: attendance, short quiz, and then note-taking. All of which you do complete easily as someone comes to sit in the open seat beside you. You pay no attention to it, too focused on writing down your notes when they speak, “is this seat taken?”

“No, it’s–” you turn your head to see Paige staring right at you. “Not.”

“Great,” she smiles as she puts her backpack down. “So, what are we learning today?”

“Listen and find out for your fucking self,” you whisper as you go back to taking notes, not before moving your chair farther away from her.

Paige, who is looking at you like you were the craziest person on the planet, slides her hand over to your notebook, bringing towards her and giving it a look. “You always had pretty handwriting.”

You look at her dumbfounded. “You can’t be serious.”

Paige smirks at you. “Very serious.”

You pull your notebook back to you. “I thought I was too much of a bitch to be around.”

Paige’s shoulders fall, her playful expression falling with it. She leans towards you, “I said I was sorry about that. I didn’t mean it.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you mean. If you didn’t mean it, you wouldn’t say it.” You go back to taking your notes. “And besides, we got a promise to keep for Azzi. So let’s honor that please.”

“Right because now you suddenly care about that promise.” You hated how hot her voice was. How hot she was just sitting there right next to you. How close she was just like that night at the bar.

You scoff, “you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“No,” she rebutted. “I said I didn’t want you meddling in on my love life. Why can’t we be friends?”

Her sudden change in demeanor from when she was screaming at you outside of the bar compared to now made you turn your head enough to where you could almost get whiplash. “You should have said that maybe like two or three weeks ago. Or I don’t know,” you pause, pretending to think. “Maybe a damn month ago.”

“But I want to now, ma.” The use of the pet name made you freeze on the spot, dropping your pen and by the way you felt, you just knew that your cheeks were red as fuck. And by the look on her own face, you knew she was enjoying your reaction. “Just like old times.”

“Go suck up to one of the bitches you fuck,” you spit out, putting your books away and getting up from your chair without another word. 

“Y/n–” Paige began but you couldn’t hear the end of her sentence because you were already out the door. Not only did you have a promise to keep to Azzi but also a promise to keep to yourself: don’t let Paige into your life again.

You don’t know exactly how you ended up here yet there you were, standing in the crowded kitchen of a frat house trying to fish through the cooler to look for a drink. Another party you let Azzi drag you to and each time she did, you regretted it deeply. While frat parties were the final boss of college partying, the one thing you hated the most about these parties were the awful tastes in music these guys had with TikTok music just circulating throughout the speakers. It also didn’t help that you were wearing a tight and short black dress that made every guy at this party look your way. And that made you feel disgusted.

And with your luck, Azzi left you to go find some girls from the team, leaving you in the kitchen to fend for yourself. You find a can of Coke in the cooler which looked like the best decision compared to the other drinks that were available. You lean back up, opening your can and taking a sip, letting the carbonation hit the back of your throat.

“Enjoying the party?” Kathrine whispers behind you, pressing her body against your back. Your breath hitches and your fingers curl the can in your grasp. Kathrine can sense you being on edge so she slowly glides her hand up your waist, trying to elicit some sort of response that was something other than being guarded.

“Not my scene,” you say quietly, trying to let yourself relax in her grasp.

“We can always change that,” she pauses, spinning you around so that you’re now facing her and her fingers are tangled in the black fabric of your dress. “I always liked you in black.”

You look into her eyes, “I thought you preferred nothing at all.”

Kathrine’s eyes lowered themselves onto you as she spoke, “I thought that was a given.”

Trying to get your mind off of Paige was something you were used to and even though you were never actually into Kathrine, she provided a good distraction. Maybe it was the party getting to you but there was something about getting with the same girl that you found Paige making out with weeks ago made it seem almost fun.

You instinctively grab Kathrine’s hand as you drag her to a wall just a few feet away, pushing her up against it. She immediately responds to you, grabbing at your face as she brings your lips together. It was heated and fierce, both of you trying to fight for dominance as Kathrine wasted no time in shoving her tongue down your throat. The two of you could both tell that this wasn’t anything more than all of your meaningless hookups had been. Meaningless. That night in the locker room with Paige was never supposed to be meaningless.

And fuck, now you were thinking about her when you’re making out with someone else.

Kathrine spins around, catching you against the wall as your hands become tangled in her mess of blonde hair. Her skin was warm compared to your cool fingertips and her lips were soft like they always had been. 

Kathrine’s mouth wanders down your jaw, causing you to let out a short gasp that only the two of you can hear through all of the loud music. Her mouth wandered down farther to the crook of your neck and you braced your hands against her shoulders trying to steady yourself as she sucked and nipped at your neck.

You open your eyes for the first time, watching Kathrine’s head bob down as she continued to kiss along your collarbone and damn did that make you horny. It became worse when you look across the room and notice those familiar blue eyes staring you down. And that stare created a pool between your legs. 

Paige had been watching you and Kathrine the whole time with a bottle of beer in her hand. The way she looked at you was a mix of a glare and disbelief as if you had just seen straight through her. For the first time in a while, she looked hurt and you were the reason why. You let your hands drop from Kathrine and you pull her head up from your neck which causes her to look at you with confusion.

“Is something wrong?” she asks you with swollen lips and partly out of breath.

You look away from Paige and towards Kathrine, giving her a slight head shake. “No, nothing’s wrong.”

Before you can say anything else, Paige is walking towards the two of you, the bottle that had been in her hand was now on an empty table as she approached you, eyes filled with fire. You didn’t know what she would do but the second that Kathrine’s lips were reattached to your neck, Paige pulls you out of her grasp.

“What the fuck?” Kathrine asks, not realizing that Paige was standing in front of her.

“Hands off,” Paige says, not a break in her tone. Not a stutter at all.

You move your arm out of her grip. “I’m not a damn animal, Paige, I can speak for myself.”

Paige looks at you, making an attempt to grab your arm again. “I don’t give a fuck, Y/n. I’m done watching you and not doing jack shit about it.”

She drags you out of the house, pulling you into the backyard. And as much as you fight her, her strength wins as she holds you in front of her before letting go and shutting the glass door. You couldn’t believe the scene that had just played out and every part of you wanted nothing more than to scream at her. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Paige’s voice broke through with an urgent tone. “My problem? You’re the one who won’t let me apologize for what I said.”

You grab at your hair before snapping at her, “Why do you care? Tell me why because this whole thing is so confusing that it’s driving me insane.”

“What’s so confusing about it?” Paige acts clueless yet you know better than to believe that.

You raise your voice to match hers. “You kiss me in the locker room then you pretend that I don’t exist, saying that you’re doing it because of Azzi when we both know that’s bullshit because if you cared about Azzi in this situation you would have never dated me in the first place!”

Paige took a step towards you, tilting her head. “I was seventeen! What the fuck did I know? And you’re acting like you’re a fucking saint when you know damn well this was equally your fault as it was mine.”

“You tell me to stop coming back into your life and when I finally listen, you decide that’s not good enough and you try anything to weave your way into mine,” you say as you spit your words and you feel the sudden sting in your eyes. “Are you so conceded that you can’t handle that I’m moving on from you? That I want to live a life without you?”

“We both know you don’t want that,” she snaps. “I don’t want that.”

Those four words make you pause as you bite your lip, flipping your hair in distress. “What?”

Paige takes a deep breath, calming down from her outburst. “I thought ignoring you was going to fix this and finally make me get over you. But you’re not fucking easy to get over and seeing you with that girl or anyone else makes me want to go over there and show everyone why I wanted you in the first place.”

You couldn’t believe the words you were hearing. If anything, you were just confused because one second, she’s calling you a bitch and the next, she’s telling you she still has feelings for you. You take a slow step back from her, putting your hands behind your back. “You can’t keep doing this to me.”

“Do what?”

You huffed because you knew that once you opened your mouth, there was no going back and everything that has happened could either be done for good or a new step forward. You didn’t let your eyes wander from her and you took a step back again, creating a bigger gap between the two of you. “Pulling me in, pushing me away and then doing that shit all fucking over again. It’s too much.”

Paige tried to take a step forward, reaching her hand out to you but all you could do was take another step back. Anything to show her that you were done. When you rejected her movement, she sighed and glanced at the ground before looking back up to you. “I didn’t think–”

“That’s right,” you say, cutting her off. “You don’t.”

Paige’s frown turned into a line when she shook her head at you. “If that’s how you feel then fine.” And she leaves you there in the backyard as she walks back inside the house. You didn’t know whether to be upset or happy at the fact that maybe she’d finally understand how you felt. You hoped she at least had the maturity to do that. At first, you didn’t know if you should walk back inside but after a few minutes, you decide to and shut the glass door behind you.

Everyone were still in their places dancing and drinking with the occasional grinding against one another which made you feel sick for some reason. You looked around the house for Kathrine but she was nowhere to be found so you had just assumed she left. Deciding to check one last bedroom, you open the door and drop your drink on the ground as you walk in on two girls, one straddling the other on the bed. They both had their shirts off and were clearly in the middle of an intense makeout.

Feeling completely embarrassed, you apologize, “Sorry, sorry my bad…” You trail off when some brunette gives you a disgusted look as she shifts in Paige’s lap. At first, Paige looked at you with anger but watching you drop your cup made her feel guilty and it was clear that you could tell.

You don’t say anything else as you shut the door and leave Paige in the room with that girl. You walk down the stairs and decide to leave the house. And as you expected, Paige never followed you.

You walked into the elevator in your building, pressing the button to the fourth floor as you continued to try to erase Paige from your mind. She shouldn’t have this much of a hold on you but she did and there wasn’t anything that you could do about it at this point. You leaned against the wall of the elevator as the doors shut and it begins to move up. You haven’t spoken to anyone including Azzi for several days since you had walked in on Paige and that random girl. And yes, it wasn’t fair to Azzi but everything and everyone reminded you of Paige. And you needed a break.

That break was going to have to wait a little bit longer because when the elevator stopped on the second floor and opened, Paige walked in, freezing in her spot when she looks up and makes eye contact with you. You look up from your phone and mimic the same expression before going back on your phone. Paige hit the button to close the elevator door and decided to stand beside you, resulting in you taking a step farther away from you.

“Can we talk?” Paige asks from beside you and all you could do was turn away and not even glance in her direction. Paige huffs at your response, turning her body towards you. “Really? Are you going to act like a child right now?”

You give her no response which fuels her even more. You hear her step towards the elevator door and out of nowhere, the elevator stops in its place. You turn towards her and look at her hand that has just pulled the red button. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Paige smirks. “So it takes me stopping a damn elevator for you to say a word to me?” She grabs your arm to which you tear away from her.

“You’re fucking crazy, Paige,” you yell out, trying to get yourself as far away from her as possible. Your chest tightened and your breathing hitched, making your face go red. Was now a good time to mention that you are claustrophobic?

“You clearly have me going fucking craz–” Paige responds but notices the way your breaths get caught in your throat. She takes a step towards you, concern clearly written across her face. “Hey, hey are you okay?”

Your back hits the elevator wall and you slide down until you’re sitting on the cold floor. You pull your legs out in front of you and hide your face in your knees, trying to gain control over your breathing.

Paige kneels down beside you, placing a warm hand on your knee which causes you to jolt in your place. “Fuck–I forgot you’re claustrophobic. I’m so sorry.”

Paige gets up and tries pressing other buttons to get the elevator moving but it’s no use because the two of you are still stuck. When it’s clear that her actions aren’t working, she comes back to your side and pulls you into her arms, wrapping her hands around you and pulling your head into her chest. “Relax princess, nothing is going to happen to you. I’m right here.”

Against your better judgement, your hands snake up to wrap around Paige’s neck as your breathing steadies. Even though Paige was the cause of your anger, she always knew how to calm you down. Paige’s grip on you gets tighter as she rubs small circles on your arm. Her touch alone was enough to fully ground you and gain control of your breathing, which Paige could tell instantly. “Talk to me mama.”

The old pet name surprised you and you couldn’t deny the way your heartbeat slowly increased again. You lifted your head up to look at her. “I’m okay I think.”

Paige gave you a soft smile, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You scared me there for a second, L/n. I can’t have you scaring me like that.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have stopped the elevator then.”

Paige’s eyes became half–lidded as she took the sight of you in her arms in. Her hand that was on your shoulder dipped to your lower back to which you could instantly tell that the mood between the two of you had shifted. You cleared your throat. “We should call for help or something.”

Paige couldn’t take her eyes off of your lips as you talked, which only turned you on more. “Or we just wait.”

“That could take forever.”

“I’m good with forever.” Her eyes couldn’t leave your mouth and yours couldn’t leave hers. This was a very bad idea but fuck it, you knew you needed her. Now.

Before thinking about it again, you pull her face towards yours and kiss her like it was your last day on Earth. Paige let out a small gasp as she held your waist to gain some sort of stability, moving her lips against yours without any shame whatsoever. Paige’s hold on your hips grows tighter as she pulls you effortlessly onto her lap. Your hands move from the sides of her face down to her neck, which you rub circles on with your thumbs. The kiss between the two of you was intoxicating and even though your mind was foggy, all you wanted was more. 

Paige lets one of her hands on your lower back drift farther down until it dips underneath the belt of your pants and caresses your ass. You gasp at the sudden move which gives Paige all she needs as she uses that opportunity to slide her tongue in your mouth. It causes you to moan and that makes Paige smile against your lips. Paige pulls away slowly, making you whimper at the sudden loss of her lips. “Look who’s desperate for me.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”

She pulls at the bottom of your shirt, looking at you with raised eyebrows and a small smirk. “Can I take this off?”

You didn’t think twice before nodding as she pulled the fabric over your head with ease. She admired the sight before her of you in your bra that happened to be in her favorite color. Paige lets her fingers glide along your chest, outlining the shape. “You’re so fucking hot, princess.”

You tilt your head down at her. “Do you want to keep touching or do you want to actually fuck me before someone comes to fix the elevator?”

“Yes ma’am,” she whispers, taking off her own shirt and undoing your belt. You immediately go back to kissing her like you had just been and damn did it feel like the most amazing thing on the planet. All those times you would kiss other people, especially Kathrine, it never felt like this. Like they belonged with you. To you. You grip her bare shoulders which are warm and sculpted like a fucking Greek God and that only makes your pussy throb more than it was. She pulls your hips up in order to pull your pants off and you help her, tossing them to the side onto the cold floor and going back in to kiss her. She sinks you back down onto her lap and you could immediately feel yourself pooling on her sweatpants. And she could feel it too because she pulls away and laughs. “It really doesn’t take much, does it?”

You slap her shoulder. “Fuck you.”

“Is that not what you’re doing?” She asks with the slyest smile you have ever seen. When you don’t respond, she begins moving your hips against her, creating long, colored streaks on her gray sweatpants. The movements cause you to let out a moan, which causes Paige to bite her lip. “Just like that.”

Her reaction ignites a fire in you to move faster, attaching your lips to the crook of her neck and the second you do, you could almost feel her eyes rolling to the back of her head. You smile against her neck as you leave a big mark on her neck that would no doubt, soon turn into a huge hickey. Paige’s hands were everywhere on you. On your neck, your tits, your waist, your back, your thighs, your ass and the electrifying shock of her touch sent butterflies through your entire body, making you crave more.

Paige grabs a hold of your hips, slightly turning your body which causes your lips to leave her neck. You whine at the sudden loss of contact but Paige kisses you before she turns your entire body so that your back is now laying against her chest. Your legs are sprawled out but you squeeze them together to try to stop your core from dripping even more onto Paige’s lap. 

“Stop that,” Paige whispers in your ear as she forces your legs apart with her own, locking them in place so that you can’t move them back together. She wraps an arm around your stomach to keep you from squirming on her and you knew what was going to happen in exactly a few seconds. Her fingers trail down your body until they’re circling your clit slowly. You whine out, “Paige please.”

“You want more, huh?” Paige is almost mocking you at this point and you’re eating it the fuck up. She circles over your clit once, stopping and applying pressure, and then stopping once more. You’re already on edge and these small movements make your pussy throb. It’s like Paige can feel it because she begins dragging her fingers down to your entrance, teasing you before she brings them back up to your clit. 

“Paige please stop teasing me,” you breathe out, shutting your eyes every time her fingers run over your sensitive clit.

Paige uses her other hand to lightly brush your hair out of your face. You could tell by the tone of her voice and the smirk on her face that she was enjoying this a little too much. “Just tell me what you want mama.”

You closed your eyes, preparing yourself to give Paige exactly what she wants. “Please fuck me.”

“Whatever you want, ma,” she says quickly and doesn’t give you any more time to prepare as she sinks two fingers deep inside you. You gasp and lean your head back on Paige’s shoulder.

“Fuck,” you mutter as she keeps her movements controlled and slow. You take a hold of her arm to provide you some sort of stability, gripping it so hard that your fingertips turn white.

“You like this shit, huh?” Paige looks down at you and the image before her was so beautiful, she couldn’t take her eyes off of you. You nod as you let out a moan, Paige’s fingers thrusting even deeper. You were practically seeing stars at the moment and never in your life did you ever think you would be fucking Paige Bueckers in an elevator. 

“Faster.” You don’t even remember those words leaving your body as Paige speeds up her movements and begins to curl her fingers inside of you which causes you to scream out, “oh fuck.”

Paige starts going as fast as she can, using the strength in her other arm to hold your body up. You can feel the knot in your stomach beginning to unravel and that causes you to push your body more against Paige.

She can feel that you’re close so she whispers, “doing so good, baby. Keep going.”

That’s all it takes when you grab her hand that’s currently deep inside you and and push her hand as far as it will go as she curls her fingers again. Paige lets out a small laugh at your movement as you cum all over her fingers. Your eyes roll back as you do nothing but moan and slump against Paige. She helps you ride out your orgasm and when your breathing starts to slow down, she pulls her fingers out of you and looks in awe at how covered in cum they are. You watch as she licks her fingers clean. “You taste good, baby.”

You are about to respond when the elevator suddenly starts to move and that’s when everything hit you. Paige had just fucked you which meant that you let in all of the old feelings for her. That you accepted everything that had happened between the two of you for years when you were just starting to accept that she didn’t want to be part of your life anymore.

You get up as quickly as you can and try to forget what just happened as you put your clothes back on as fast as possible.

“Y/n–” Paige says as she gets up from the floor, her sweats still covered in your cum.

You finish putting your shirt on as you turn around to her. “This should never have happened. This–this can’t happen again.”

“What?” Paige looked confused and mostly hurt at the sudden change in your tone. “What just happened changes things.”

You were a mess. More of a mess than you were twenty minutes ago. You go over to the elevator door and press any button you can to open the door. “What just happened was a mistake.”

Paige walks over to you, gently grabbing you by the arm so that you’ll look at her. “A mistake?”

“You can’t just pretend I don’t exist and the second that I’m finally moving on, pull me back in and pretend that this,” you say as you motion to the space between the two of you. “Will ever be something more than just fucking or playing with each other’s emotions.”

The door opens before Paige can respond and you take the first opportunity to run out of the elevator and to your dorm. And like you had expected again, she never followed you.

A few hours later had resulted in you not knowing what to do and needing something to take away all of the sudden emotions and feelings that Paige made you feel in that elevator. So that’s how you find yourself here, in your bed with Kathrine’s body on top of you. That was the thing about her. She wasn’t Paige. She never made you feel as good as Paige did but that meant she never made you feel as bad as Paige did too. And that’s what you needed right now; to not feel worse or confused. Because with Kathrine, there was no confusion in where you stood with her. So while you moaned Kathrine’s name and let her hands touch every inch of you as if she owned you, you felt safe.

Little did you know that Paige was standing outside of your door, hearing every cry and moan with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in her hands.

[zhelin-thames]

The room fell into stunned silence. The League had seen Phantom in all sorts of crises—world-ending fights, impossible missions, time loops, and even dealing with eldritch entities that would have driven most people insane. But this? This was different. This was personal.

Superman cleared his throat. "Danny—Phantom—are you okay?"

Danny blinked at him. "I just told you my parents died, and your first question is ‘are you okay?’ No, Superman, I’m not okay. But that’s not the priority right now. I need to handle things. My house, my identity, my sister—she’s going to freak out, and I need to figure out how to tell her before she finds out through some random news source or—"

Danny abruptly stopped, his stomach twisting. If the GIW found out first…

Batman, ever perceptive, seemed to pick up on his train of thought. "Do you have legal guardians outside of your parents? Any relatives?"

"Nope. Just Jazz. And she’s barely an adult herself, so she’s not an option."

Wonder Woman frowned. "The Justice League can assist in securing your legal status."

"And the Bat family is well-versed in handling underage wards," Batman added.

Danny sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need another weird, emotionally stunted billionaire trying to adopt me."

The Flash snorted. "Another?"

Danny waved a hand dismissively. "Long story. Point is, I can take care of myself. I just need to know the legal stuff. How do I keep my house? How do I keep my life from getting completely uprooted by this?"

Green Lantern crossed his arms. "Kid, you just lost your parents. You shouldn’t be dealing with this alone."

"I’ve been alone for a while now," Danny muttered. "This just makes it official."

Silence stretched again, heavier this time. Batman, still watching him intently, finally said, "We’ll help you. No matter what you choose."

Danny nodded slowly, letting the reality sink in. His life had just turned upside down, but maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to figure it all out alone.

DC x DP

They were gone. Gone. It didn't feel real. How could it? His parents were dead; they were killed by their own invention. How ironic! He could hear Sam saying "what goes around comes around" in her snarky tone. He knows that he should be grieving. But he doesn't feel sad, just numb. Some of Jazz's lectures on shock echo in his head.

Shit! He has to tell Jazz. She is should be in class right now and he knows midterms are next week. She doesn't need to be-

"Phantom?"

Right, he was in the middle of a Justice League debrief when he got the text.

Batman requires him to debrief after he completes a time mission for Clockwork. Something about how is a new member and is inexperienced. Which feels uncalled for since he dealt with world ending events for a whole year before joining the league at 15. And he has been working with the league for two years now. Sure he isn't an adult yet but he has been taking care of himself for as long as he can remember. Much to the chagrin of Jazz. The only thing he needs from his parents now is-

"Phantom!"

"How do you emancipation yourself?"

"What?"

"Would my sister have to know? How am I going to pay the mortgage? Do I get a salary for helping the Justice League? Will I have-"

"Phantom!!"

Danny's eyes snapped up to Batman's glaring. He was just getting in the grove for a good spiral. Belatedly he realized everyone was staring at him with varying forms of confusion and sadness.

"Phantom..." OH no that's Wonder Woman's I have something to tell you that your not going to like but you need to hear it. "Your dead... as far as I am aware, ghosts don't have to pay a mortgage nor do they need to be emancipated."

Jumping up and looking around Danny cheered "OH I forgot to tell you guys! I am not completely dead. I am dead but not completely. I am also not completely alive either. It's confusing in general... I am what's known as a halfa. We are an embodiment of the veil itself, both alive and dead."

Judging by the shocked looks from everyone assembled, Danny did a shitty job of explaining again. Unfortunately for them, Danny has had this conversation one too many times and doesn't want to have it again. So, he decides to bulldoze through any attempts to ask questions and continues.

"Anyways, I do need to be emancipated since my parents just died and I am a minor. There is no way my sister can take me in. She just started her second year of college and-"

"Your a minor!"

"Your alive!"

"Your parents died..."

"I could adopt you."

Snapping his head back to Batman and using the most feed up tone he can muster, he drawls "I have been an orphan for all of 5 mins. You need psychiatric help ASAP."

[intoanotherworld23]

Our Little Secret

Summary: Joel Miller is your best friends dad, and the two of you can’t hold back the desire for each other anymore so you both act on it

Warnings: explicit content, mature themes, smut, unprotected sex, age gap, bfdJoel, best friends dad Joel, dominant Joel, submissive reader, oral female receiving, smidge of spanking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

A/N: Hello my lovelies I hope that you guys enjoy this one since season two of The Last Of Us is coming up soon so I can’t wait for all the writers to go crazy and for my blog to be filled with fanfiction for him. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated and encouraged. My Pedro pascal/characters tag list is always open so please don’t hesitate to ask! Thank you all again so much and enjoy! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

Tag list for Pedro Pascal: @pedrohoe04 @k-k0129 @livingdeadmaria @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @milly-louise @kittenlittle24 @trisaratops-mcgee @subconsciouscollapse @hooked-on-penapascal27 @red-red-rogue @fellinfromthetop @drewharrisonwriter @vickie5446 @millerfan @lover-of-books-and-tea @bbyanarchist @justajoelsreader

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"I’m so close Joel." You whine feeling your entire body burning with the very overwhelming sensation of Joel sinking deeply inside of you. His hands grip tighter on your waist as he lifts your hips up pulling out just enough before slamming you back down.

"Oh my god." The sudden movement makes your body jolt against his as you bury your face in his neck unable to look into his intense eyes. Hearing a chuckle next to your ear at your reaction.

"No no no sweetheart I want you to look at me." Gripping the back of your neck pulling your head back so you were directly in front of his face. "I wanna watch your face as you cum."

Letting out a shaky moan as you gazed into his eyes, gripping his shoulders to keep your body stable as you lowered yourself onto him over and over. His hold on your waist disappears as they trail down your stomach, his thumb reaching your clit rubbing rapid harsh circles.

"J-Joel," crying out your vision blurry at this extreme sensation. Tightening his grip on your neck making sure to keep your gaze focused on him.

"I know baby I know." His tone softer and almost mocking as he saw the tears in your eyes. "Fucking your best friend's dad must be so overwhelming."

His thrusts getting more and more aggressive as you feel his cock twitching inside of you. The thought of your best friend catching or hearing what was going on had your cheeks getting hot. Part of you feeling slightly guilty, only then to remind yourself how deliciously he was stretching you at.

"Seeing you ride her father's cock like a whore."Moaning louder at his words causing him to smirk up at you.

"That what you want sweetheart? Your best friend catching you fucking her dad?" Cocking his head to the side already knowing the answer to that question. He just wanted to hear you say it.

"Yes oh god yes." Back arching unable to hold back the words any longer. Your entire body shuddering as your second orgasm hit you quicker than the last one. Nails scratching along his skin, his eyes never leaving yours. Loving the look of absolute pleasure on your face.

"Fuck sweetheart squeeze my cock with that tight cunt." His body twists as your walls clench around him, a guttural moan leaving his lips. A sudden warmth spilling inside of you with his thick ropes of cum.

Leaning his head forward pressing it against your shoulder leaving soft and delicate kisses on your sweaty skin. Heart beating so rapidly you knew he could hear it. A soft smile curls on his lips as he was still trying to catch his breath.

"Joel wait." Groaning as he started to move his body to lay down your body towering over his as he moved your body up so your cunt was now hovering above his face. Knowing exactly what he wanted you to do. "Joel, please I can't."

"Yes you can sweetheart. Just one more time for me. Be a good girl for me like I know you are." A hand coming down on your cheeks causing you to jump. Joel licking his lips as he looked directly at the wetness between your legs. "Let me taste you."

Nodding to his consent as he grinned excitedly, but you started to really doubt what he was wanting never having done anything like this before. His thick hands holding onto your hips, and guiding you to sit on his face. His tongue right up against your cunt. A heat rising to your cheeks being in such a vulnerable position.

"That feels so good." Hips grinding softly against his face the scruff of his beard tickling your thighs.

His tongue working furiously inside of you like he was trying to lick you clean. Gasps and whines pouring out of your mouth as your hands reached down to grip his hair. Joel's thumbs rubbing soothing circles along your skin in comfort. His nose brushing against your clit only driving you crazier.

"Sweeter than I could’ve ever imagined." His voice muffled as he spoke saying more to himself than to you. Nevertheless you still heard him.

"Oh fuck." Your orgasm was swiftly approaching your entire body felt like it was on fire. Watching Joel lapping furiously at your cunt like he was some starved animal. Looking up to look at the expression on your face loving that he was responsible for your pleasure. It made him feel like he had unlimited power.

"Oh my god I'm right there." Was all he needed to hear before he started sucking on your puffy clit desperately.

"Let go sweetheart." He encouraged as he started to suck on your clit. Holding you down refusing to let you go, and he just keeps going. It was everything that you never knew you needed. Throwing your head back as a cry of pleasure left your lips, and your thighs squeezing the sides of his head.

Listening as his tongue lapped at your juices, your legs still shaking as he eased you through another orgasm. Hands gripping your hips to help lift you up so he could slide out from underneath you. Sitting up right keeping you on his lap. Watching in amazement as he wiped his beard that was covered in your arousal.

“Next time I think I’m gonna have you call me daddy.”

[msbigredmachine]

40 Days & 40 Nights (Roman Reigns)

When Roman and Naima commit to abstaining from sex for Lent, they think it’ll be a test of willpower. What they don’t anticipate is just how torturous it will be. The Tribal Chief has always been a man of discipline, but resisting Naima? That might just be his toughest challenge yet.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Black fem OC

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I've been enjoying writing about these two a little too much, thank you for indulging me 😁

This is based off characters from my multi-chapter Roman fic, Finding Angel.

Day 0: The Agreement

Roman’s tour bus hums softly beneath them, rolling steadily down the highway. It’s late, and they’re curled up together on the leather couch, the glow from the TV illuminating their faces. Naima’s sinfully long legs are draped across his lap, his fingers lazily plucking at her gold anklet.

She sighs, stretching against him like a cat. “Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“You ever do Lent properly before?”

Roman lifts a brow. “Like, actually giving something up?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He thinks for a moment, rubbing at his beard. “Not really. I mean, I’d try. No cheesecake, no cussing...Never lasted the whole forty days though.” He smirks. “What about you?”

Naima nods. “I have. Back when I used to go to church regularly. But since we’re together now…” She tilts her head, eyeing him with mischief. “We should do something big. A challenge.”

Roman chuckles, giving her calf a squeeze. “Yeah? Like what?”

She purses her lips, watching his hand creep up her thigh. “No sex.”

Roman’s fingers freeze. His entire body goes still. “What?”

Naima grins. “Forty days. Forty nights. No sex.”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head like she’s just spoken in tongues. “Woman, you play too damn much.”

“I’m serious.” She bites her lip, trying not to laugh at his expression; eyes narrowed, lips slightly parted, like he’s just been blindsided. “Lent is supposed to be about self-discipline, sacrifice. If we gon’ do it, might as well go all in and shit.”

He leans back, arms folding over his chest as he casts her a skeptical look. “Define all in.”

Naima ticks the rules off on her fingers. “No sex. No self-gratification. No porn. No nudes.”

Roman blinks. His nostrils flare. “No self-gratification?” His voice pitches higher like he’s in actual distress.

She nods, giggling at the absolute betrayal written all over his face.

“I ain’t built for shit like that,” he mutters, rubbing a hand down his face. “I mean, I got discipline, yeah…But not when it comes to you, baby.”

“Well, big guy,” she sing-songs, smirking, “guess you’ll just have to suffer like the rest of us mere mortals.”

He stares at her like she’s the devil herself, then exhales long and heavy, rubbing his temples. “Five and a half weeks. No fucking, I can’t jack off…” He stops himself, looking genuinely faint.

Naima doubles over laughing, tears in her eyes. “Five and a half weeks, Tribal Chief. You got this.”

Roman leans his head back against the couch, eyes narrowing. “You enjoyin’ this way too much. You really wanna test me like this?”

“Think about it though. We practice some restraint, get closer spiritually…”

He rolls his eyes. “You tryna get closer spiritually, or you just tryna watch me die a slow painful death?”

“You are not going to die,” she assures him, reaching out to toy with the beard on his chin. “Besides, you travel a lot, so it’s not like we’d be up under each other every day. That makes it easier.”

Roman tilts his head, considering. “Mmm, true. But that just means when we do see each other, it’s gonna be torture.”

Naima chuckles, dragging a slow finger up his chest. “I got willpower, baby. Question is, do you?”

Roman stares at her for a long moment, rolling the thought around in his head. Then he exhales, heavy and resigned. “You know what? Fuck it,” he says, full of confidence, his arrogance flaring. “I’m the Tribal Chief. Discipline is what I do.” He sighs again, but this time, his glare lands on her. “Fine. No sex.”

Naima smiles wide, and then holds out her pinky. “Shake on it?”

He hooks his pinky with hers, locking eyes. “Done.” Suddenly, he yanks her closer, their noses nearly touching. “But trust me when I say, you gon’ regret this, mamas.” His hand slides into her loose crop top, closing over the swell of her breast.

Naima shudders but keeps her cool, smirking as she pulls him on top of her. They might as well get one in before the chaos starts. “Not as much as you will.”

Day 3: The Distance Helps…Sort Of

So far, so good.

Roman is away for Smackdown, and Naima finds his absence manageable. No lingering touches, no heat radiating from his massive frame, no low, gravelly voice in her ear making promises he always keeps. They’ve kept their distance, FaceTiming only briefly before bed.

“You surviving, baby?” she queries, smirking at his grumpy expression.

“Barely.” He shifts under the covers, shirtless, looking way too fine for his own good. “Not gonna lie, I almost gave up today.”

“Oh?”

“This chick at the gym had the exact same perfume you wear.” He groans. “I damn near followed her like a lost puppy before I realized what the fuck I was doing.”

Naima bursts out laughing. “You’re hopeless.”

Roman glares. “Shut up. How you doin’?”

She shrugs, examining her nails. “Fine.”

His eyes narrow. “That’s it?”

She grins. “Told you I got more self-control than you.”

“For now,” Roman grumbles.

Naima laughs. Her man is hilarious even without trying. “Go to sleep, big man. You got work tomorrow.”

He exhales, rolling onto his side. “Text me when you wake up.”

“Of course, big daddy.”

Deathly silence. Then, “Don't call me that right now.”

“Oops. Sorry.”

Day 7: The Real Struggle Begins

Tonight, Roman is home.

And it’s bad.

Naima planned a chill night; dinner, a movie, nothing crazy. But it doesn’t take long at all before the energy shifts.

He’s fresh out the shower, grey sweatpants worn low on his hips, torso bare, hair damp and loose over his shoulders.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets, baritone voice like sin.

Naima swallows hard. This is gonna be hell.

She forces a smirk. “Hey, handsome.”

They keep it cool for most of the night. But then, of course, Roman has to test her. They’re on her sectional, his huge arm slung around her waist, and Naima is very aware of the way his fingers keep flexing against her hip.

“Stop that,” she mumbles.

“Stop what?”

“You know what.”

Roman smirks, adjusting his grip, his fingers grazing the bare skin just above her shorts. “I don’t know what you talkin’ about.”

Naima tenses. “Roman.”

“Hm?” His eyes are closed, but he’s smirking.

She narrows her eyes, grabs a pillow and smacks him in the face, startling him enough to sit upright. “Quit playin’ with me!”

He chuckles, removing his hand from her body. “I ain’t even do nothin’!”

“You’re a fucking menace,” she grumbles, getting to her feet. “Can you behave so we can watch this movie in peace?”

Roman sighs dramatically, pulling her to sit on his lap. “Fine. Sit down, girl.”

The movie plays, but neither is watching, not with the way she shifts on his lap, just slightly. Naima swears she feels his breath hitch with every slight movement she makes.

“Damn,” he mutters under his breath.

Naima smirks. “Problem, baby?”

Roman glares at her. “Shut up.”

Naima moves off him, sitting beside him instead. “Maybe you should go take another shower.”

He clenches his jaw. “You evil as hell.”

She winks. “Thirty-three days to go, baby.”

Roman leans in, close enough that she can feel his breath on her lips. “You sure you don’t wanna call it quits?”

Naima squares her shoulders, defiant. “I’m good. Are you sure?”

His jaw clenches, eyes darkening. “I ain’t no quitter, baby.”

They sit there, staring at each other, tension thick enough to slice with a knife.

He groans tiredly, running a hand down his face. “We really fucked up agreeing to this, huh?”

She giggles despite herself. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

Day 11: Personal Problem

Naima leans against the kitchen counter in Roman’s Miami penthouse, idly scrolling through her phone as his deep, tired voice rumbles through the speaker. He’s calling from his hotel room in Chicago, exhaustion laced through his words, but his tone still holds that familiar warmth.

“Baby girl,” he drawls, low and thick, “You know you ain’t playin’ fair, right?”

She smirks, taking a slow sip of her tea. “What I do now?”

“You know what you did,” he grumbles. “Postin’ them damn pictures on IG, wearin’…hell, barely wearin’…that lil’ ass lingerie set, talkin’ ‘bout ‘work.’” His voice drops into a rough murmur. “What kinda sick game you playin’, huh?”

Naima bites her lip, failing to hold back a giggle. “It was for work,” she insists, though she’s well aware of the hell she’s putting him through.

“Yeah, well, you workin’ my last damn nerve,” he mutters. “Ain’t had a decent night’s sleep since Ash Wednesday.” His sigh is deep and frustrated. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.”

Naima tilts her head, feigning innocence. “You mean to tell me the big, bad Tribal Chief can’t handle a little discipline?”

He exhales sharply, and she can picture the way he’s rubbing his hand down his face, exasperated. “Discipline? Baby, I’m beyond strugglin’,” he admits, voice dipping into that deep, rich tone that always does things to her. “You don’t know what it’s like, wakin’ up every damn morning, hard as a rock and you can’t do shit about it.”

Naima hums, a slow, knowing smile tugging at her lips, glad to know she’s not the only one that’s sexually frustrated. Still, she needs to keep up the facade. “Sounds like a personal problem to me,” she gloats.

“A personal problem?” Roman scoffs, and she hears rustling on the other end, like he’s pacing. “You the problem! Walkin’ ‘round my house in them little tank tops, no bra. Sittin’ in my lap whenever you feel like it. And don’t even get me started on them massages—”

“I was just being nice. Your muscles were tense,” she teases, far from innocent.

“You were torturin’ me, baby.” His voice is damn near a growl now. “And don’t act like you ain’t strugglin’, too. I know you miss this dick.”

Naima exhales through her nose, tapping her nails against the counter. She does. She really does. But she’s too stubborn to admit it just yet.

“Mmm.” She leans in closer to her phone. “I don’t know, big guy. I think I’m doin’ just fine.”

Roman lets out a long, suffering groan. “You gon’ stop playin’ with me, or what?”

Naima hums, all faux innocence. “Who’s playin’?”

He exhales sharply, like he’s this close to losing it. “You know who.”

She grins, sipping her tea like she’s completely unbothered. “Well, if it’s that bad, you could always tap out.”

His pride bristles instantly. “Hell nah!”

“Then I guess we’re both just gonna suffer.”

A heavy silence lingers between them, thick with tension neither one wants to break. Finally, Roman clicks his tongue.

“Yeah, a’ight. Keep that same energy when I finally get my hands on you.”

Day 17: Praying For Strength

Naima thought she had this under control.

The first week had been easy enough, a test of willpower she could handle. The second week? A little more difficult, especially when Roman was home, lounging around shirtless, brushing past her on purpose, throwing that look her way.

But now? Now she’s positively struggling.

She’s curled up on her sister Adara’s couch, aimlessly scrolling through Instagram while Julien plays his video game, trying to keep her mind off how pent-up she feels. Coupled with the fact that she also gave up smoking weed for Lent, every little thing these days irritates her, every touch of fabric against her skin feels like too much. She’s restless, annoyed, and horny.

And then, just to make things worse, Roman decides to be an absolute menace.

Her phone buzzes with a DM notification, and when she opens it, her heart damn near stops.

It’s a selfie of him at the gym, shirtless, sweat slicking his chest and arms, making every muscle pop under the harsh overhead lights. His damp hair hangs loose around his face, a few strands sticking to his forehead, and the way his gym shorts sit low on his hips is just—

She stares at the picture for a solid ten seconds, mouth dry. Then the caption pops up:

Praying for strength.

Naima snorts, her face heating as she quickly types back:

Your instigating ass not praying hard enough, apparently.

His response is immediate:

Cuz God sent me you, with your fine ass. Ain’t no strength left, mamas.

She presses her lips together, squeezing her thighs absentmindedly as her thumbs hover over the keyboard. She debates how petty she wants to be; how much she’s willing to let him know he’s getting to her.

Finally, she types:

Don’t tempt me unless you’re ready to start over from day 1.

The three little dots appear immediately. Then—

Admit it, then.

She frowns, typing back: 🤨Admit what?

That you goin through it, too.

Naima sucks her teeth, rolling her eyes.

Boy, please 🙄

Roman sends her something else, a video this time.

The screen opens to a slow pan down his freshly showered body, steam still curling in the background. Droplets of water slide down his chest, over the deep ridges of his abs, the camera lingering on where the towel hangs dangerously low on his hips…low enough to tempt, but not enough to see.

She chokes on air.

Day 26: Transferred Aggression

“Yo, big man, you good?” Jimmy asks, eyeing Roman warily as he powers through another set, aggressively throwing weights around like they personally disrespected his whole bloodline.

Roman shoots him a glare, chest heaving. “Why the fuck you askin’ me dumbass questions?”

“Cuz you look like you ready to kill somebody,” Jimmy says, crossing his arms, a knowing smirk on his face. “Or maybe you just need to get laid.”

Roman growls low in his throat. “I don’t need your commentary right now, Uce.”

Jey strolls over, sipping a protein shake like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Damn, what’s wrong with you?”

Jimmy chortles unashamedly, reveling in his big cousin’s self-inflicted suffering. “Lent got him in a chokehold. He can’t fuck Naima.”

Jey lets out a long whistle. “Shiiiiit. No pussy for forty days? You better than me, Uce.”

Both twins burst into laughter while Roman flips them off, his jaw clenching. “Fuck off. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jimmy chuckles, shaking his head. “If you say so, big man.”

Day 34: Devil’s Advocate

Naima lies on her couch, staring at the ceiling like it personally offended her, when Brandy flops down beside her, loud as ever, smacking on her bubblegum.

“So, let me get this straight,” Brandy says, ticking off on her fingers. “No fucking?”

Naima closes her eyes, exhaling slowly. “Nope.”

Brandy leans in. “No jacking off?”

Her eye twitches. “No.”

Brandy whistles. “No head, no fingers, no rubbin’ up on him just a little?”

“Brandy.”

“For a whole month? Damn, your pussy dry yet?”

Naima groans, dragging a pillow over her face. “Brandy, please.”

But Brandy just grins, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. “Girl, you a damn saint. If that man looked at me the way he looks at you, I’d be sinnin’ daily.”

Naima peeks out from under the pillow, her voice a desperate whine. “It’s been hell, girl. Pure hell.”

Brandy cackles, clearly enjoying her best friend’s peril. “And big man? How he holdin’ up?”

“About as well as you’d expect.”

“So, not well at all?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Brandy throws her head back laughing. “Makes sense. Man been lookin’ like he ready to fight God and everybody else. Bet his ass counting down the days like it’s Christmas.”

Naima groans louder, pressing the pillow to her chest. “So am I.” She tosses her phone onto the couch. “I swear, Brandy, I been having the filthiest dreams. I wake up ready to—”

Brandy’s hands fly up. “Aht, aht! Don’t finish that sentence, nasty ass.” But she’s grinning, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know what’s funny, though?”

Naima eyes her warily. “What?”

Brandy leans in, voice dropping to a devilish whisper. “Y’all act holy for forty days, but once that clock strikes twelve, I know y’all gon’ be fuckin’ like demons.”

Naima snorts, shaking her head. “Girl, shut up.”

Brandy just laughs harder. “You know I’m right!” Then she perks up suddenly. “Matter fact, hold on, I got somethin’ for you.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out...

Naima sits up immediately. “No!”

Brandy grins, holding up the little pink Rose like it’s a trophy. “Come on. Just say the word, big man don’t even gotta know—”

“I said NO!”

Day 40: The Countdown Begins

Roman glares at the ceiling of his Atlanta condo, fists clenched at his sides. His jaw ticks as he glances at the time. 11:00 PM. One more hour. One more.

Meanwhile, across town, Naima is stretched out in bed, her fingers drumming restlessly against her bare thigh. She exhales sharply, shifting. Almost there.

Her phone buzzes.

Roman: You up?

She smirks, typing back.

Naima: You countin down the minutes too, big guy?

His response is instant.

Roman: Mamas, I been countin’ down since this morning.

She bites her lip, glancing at the time. 11:33 PM. 

Naima: Be at my place by 12:01.

She can almost taste the threat in his single, solitary reply:

Bet.

Easter Sunday: Fireworks

By the time the clock strikes midnight, Roman is already at Naima’s door, a look of pure determination in his eyes.

“Baby!” she exclaims, her laughter quickly fading at the look in his eyes as he drops his overnight bag and pulls her into his arms.

“We made it, baby,” he murmurs, his mouth already on her neck. “Forty days. Now get your ass in that bedroom before I lose my damn mind.”

Naima smirks, tugging him by the waistband of his sweats. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Safe to say, now that Lent is over, neither of them wants to waste another second.

Roman barely lets Naima close the bedroom door before he has her pinned against it, his hands gripping her hips with a possessive urgency. Their mouths collide in a kiss so fierce, it feels like they’re trying to make up for all forty days and nights in one moment.

“You don’t know how fuckin’ bad I’ve needed you,” Roman growls, his voice gravelly, lips dragging down her neck. His hands roam freely now, gripping her ass, which is bare underneath his old t-shirt that she’s wearing, and pulling her flush against him to feel just how much he’s missed her, straining through his sweatpants.

Naima drags her palms down his broad back, her hips rolling against him as a breathless gasp escapes her when his tongue sweeps against her bottom lip. “Forty days was too damn long, Ro,” she murmurs, her voice trembling with need.

“And whose fault was that?”

A flush creeps up her skin. “Mine. I’m sorry, daddy.”

His laugh is low, dark, and full of promise. “Oh, you about to be real sorry in a minute. Get over here.” He lifts her like she weighs nothing, carrying her to the bed. The second her back hits the mattress, their hands are everywhere; his sliding up her thighs, pushing her t-shirt over her head, hers making quick work of his own clothes. They both pause for a moment, just to take each other in, their eyes dark with want.

“Damn,” he murmurs, shaking his head as he kneels between her legs. “I almost forgot how sexy you are.”

Naima smirks, though her breath is already uneven. “Boy, you better stop talkin’ and-”

Her words cut off with a sharp gasp as Roman shoves her long legs down against the mattress, pressing her knees toward her chest until her feet touch the headboard. He folds her up effortlessly, pinning her in place, his grip firm as he holds her there, helpless, open, completely at his mercy. Then he sinks that big ol’ cock into her and starts moving right away, each thrust deep and deliberate, carving into her like he’s staking his claim.

Naima has missed it. Too much.

Every second of restraint they’ve suffered through, snaps with every snap of his hips, unleashing something raw, hungry, and unrelenting. Their bodies crash together in a fevered rhythm, each movement rougher, needier than the last. Her toes curl, fingers clawing at his back as he drives his dick in and out of her, hitting deep, hard, like he’s making up for every excruciating second they had to wait.

“Holy fuck, baby,” Roman groans, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath ragged. “You so fuckin’ wet.”

Indeed, the filthy, sloshy sounds of her arousal mix with her breathless cries of pleasure, filling the room, feeding the OTC’s hunger. He groans, drunk off it, off her, and buries his dick to the hilt, rolling his hips, bottoming her out. The way her pussy squeezes around him makes his head drop back, a low moan rumbling from his chest. He hears Naima’s sharp inhale, watches her eyes flutter and roll back…devastated in the best way.

Then he switches it up, pounding into her hard, fast, desperate, before slowing again, grinding deep, making her take every inch. There’s no gentleness at all; it’s rough, it’s passionate, it’s desperate, and both are too horny to want it any other way.

Naima clings to him, watching with glazed, unfocused, elated eyes as Roman grips her thighs tight, his fingers digging into her flesh as he drills his entire length into her, fast and relentless. “Yessss…ohmygod, Ro, fuck me. Give it to me!”

“Unnh, fuck,” he growls, his baritone voice gruff and primal as he obliges. Pleasure zips through him from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. The bed frame rocks perilously beneath them, the headboard cracking the wall in time with his ruthless, manic pace. 

Naima is lost, her moans shattering into breathless, incoherent whimpers as her orgasm crashes over her with brute force, made doubly intense from weeks without this feeling, from holding out only to come undone like this; hard, relentless, overwhelming. Her back arches, her legs tremble in his hands as wave after wave overtakes her, each one hitting just as forcefully as Roman keeps pounding her into the mattress, near ecstasy himself. 

“Shit, I’m comin’…Oh sh-” His massive body goes stock still as he throbs inside her, pulsing, pouring, fluids and tension draining out of him. Somehow, his grip on her remains unyielding as he holds her in place, making sure she takes every last drop of his cum.

Seconds later, without warning, the bed gives out beneath them with a loud crack, collapsing onto the floor.

For a moment, they lie there in stunned silence, panting and tangled in each other’s arms. Then Naima bursts into laughter, her body shaking with amusement.

“Oh my god, you broke the damn bed!” she wheezes, tears of laughter streaming down her face.

Roman looks down at her, still catching his breath, then at the splintered bed frame beneath them. A sheepish grin tugs at his lips. “My bad.”

Naima smacks his chest, shaking her head. “You’re paying for a new one, big guy.”

He chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Done. Long as I get to do this again.”

A wicked gleam flashes in her eyes as she smoothly and carefully flips them over, draping herself over him. “Oh, but we are doing this again,” she purrs, leaning down to slip her tongue into his mouth for a deep kiss before slithering down his body. Her soft lips and warm tongue leave a scorching trail over his skin, her intent clear.

Roman watches through hooded eyes, his breath hitching when her hand wraps around his shaft, stroking him slow and deliberate. “Again?” he rasps, though there’s no real question in his tone, just anticipation.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, kitten-licking the tip before taking him in, her voice sinful. “Missed you, big daddy.”

Roman’s head drops back against the ruined bed frame, his fists clenching in her hair as his eyes roll back.

“Missed you too, mamas…”

THE END...for now.

😁Any thoughts?

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[no-144444]

simple, easy life- m.verstappen

summary: an accident happens and max's life changes for the worst

pairing: max verstappen x fem! reader

warnings: main character death, death, car crashes

a/n: YUKI TO RB???? I MEAN SLAY FOR HIM BUT ALSO THE RB IS SHIT, AND POOR LIAM, AND I HATE REDBULL! (not u isack, yuki, max, or liam, but fuck u helmut marko u twat)

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Realistically, cars were Max’s first love. You weren’t disillusioned to the fact that Max was a car guy in every sense of the word, and constantly made jokes that he loved his cars more than you. 

He’d never drive a car again if it meant you never got hurt like this. 

He had been sitting at dinner, the most regular experience, the night before the China GP, and your best mate, Hailee, called him sobbing crying. 

“Max, it’s Y/n, I have no idea what’s happened, but it’s bad. She’s in emergency surgery or something, they didn’t tell me. I just- GET HERE, alright Max. Get here.”

And she hung up as his world stopped. His entire world shattered because you were hurt, you were thousands of miles away, and he had a race tomorrow. 

“Are you alright mate?” GP leaned over and questioned, his voice low. 

“I have to go back to Monaco,” he announced, getting up from his chair and tucking his jacket under his arm, beginning the walk out of the restaurant. 

GP fumbled to follow after him, and the voices of Helmut, Jos,  and Christian calling Max back echoed through the restaurant. “Mate, what’s going on?!” GP shouted after him as they reached the streets of Shanghai. 

“It’s personal,” he answered. “Get Yuki to fill my seat. Have Pepe fill his. Done.”

“Max, Christian isn’t going to take ‘it’s personal’ as a response, that’s going on?” GP grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. “What’s happened?”

“Y/n’s hurt,” he admitted, looking down. “And she needs me.” 

His face fell, his jaw dropping. “My god, is she alright?” 

Max shrugged, emotion catching in his throat. “I don’t know.”

He'd never seen Max like that. He’d never seen him almost cry over a girl. He’d never seen him sacrifice championship points for someone, for anyone. 

“What’s going on Max?” Jos demanded, stepping out beside the two men. He placed a hand on the back of his neck, and Max tensed up. 

“I have to go back to Monaco,” he answered, his voice steady. “It’s important.” “Nothing’s more important than racing-”

“Y/n is,” Max interjected. “And she’s lying in a fucking hospital bed on the other side of the world, so yes, she’s more fucking important!” he argued, slapping his father’s hand away. “We have reserve drivers for a fucking reason. Use them.” 

And he walked away. Away to the airport where his jet was being stored, and he flew straight back home, catastrophizing the entire way. What if you were injured badly? What had happened? Had it been a drunk driver? Would you have serious disabilities? Would you have to take time off work? Which car were you driving, was it his? And the worst thought of all popped into his head; What if you were dead? 

He pushed it back as far as he could, but still, it stayed. Lingering like the smell of your goddamn perfume on his jacket.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

All he could smell was antiseptic and a little bit of dread. It had been an exhausting 14 hour flight, one he couldn’t rest on. Max prided himself on being able to sleep through anything, and anywhere. That was not the case when it came to you. 

“And how do you know the patient?” the nurse asked, pulling him out of his spiral once more. 

“I’m her fiancé,” he answered, eyes glassy and heavy. 

“She’s just down the hall in room 8. Be aware, it may be a bit of a jarring sight, she’s hooked up to a few machines, and she’s in an induced coma,” the nurse tried to put it as softly as she could, but no one could make that sound good, not even Bruce Buffer. “Do you want someone to accompany you? I can come in, just for moral support?” she offered, seeing the way Max’s body language changed at her words. 

He chuckled sadly. “You’re very kind, but no. Thank you.”

She nodded and he walked on. He needed to do this on his own, mostly because he didn’t really know what he was walking into. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but he knew he was going to stand by you forever, if that’s how long this took. Though he hoped it wouldn’t. He hoped you’d pull through, get strong again, do all the things you wanted with your life. 

Be there with him while you both grew old, have you care for him even when no one remembered his name. 

Be in love. Get married. Have that small family you always wished for. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You died at 1.33am. The universe was taunting him, clearly. He held your hand. He didn’t call the nurse. He just sat there for a few moments, trying to imagine a future without you. He fucking couldn’t. His whole life was centred around you, around you being in it. After F1 he would just stay in Monaco with you, spend his days watching his kids grow up. He would walk them to school in the mornings and bring you back a coffee from your favourite shop, maybe a cinnamon roll on a Friday, or everyday. Depends on what you’d let him do. He’d come in, coffees in hand, and bring yours to you in bed, or maybe in your office. Maybe you’d kiss him. Maybe you’d smile one of those perfect smiles of yours. Maybe it wouldn’t matter, because you both knew you had another chance the next day. 

And all of that was gone. You were gone. 

So what was meant to happen now?

He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. 

But he had to. He ran through all the motions, he signed the paperwork, and he picked out the casket. 

But he should’ve been picking up the kids from school, holding your hand and kissing you, even if it embarrassed them. 

It should’ve been a simple, easy life. 

But it wasn’t.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :)

redbull & vcarb masterlist

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝒿𝑒𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝜗𝜚 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒! 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝑜

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Oh boy… my two most possessive men in the whole damn game? Jealous!Sol & Jealous!Geo x Reader? Buckle up because this isn’t just a love triangle—it’s a full-on battlefield.

However, can't blame you for just messing around, testing the waters, seeing who got more jealous… and playing with fire gets you burned. You’re stuck in the middle, questioning every life choice that led you here.  

What could possibly go wrong? (Spoiler: everything.)

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉: From Anonymous, if you don't mind writing it, but jealous geo and sol, please??😭 Like they both like readers and are just silently jealous of one another? I am in desperate need of more fics of them interacting 🤧

Honestly, apologies in advance—I don’t sugarcoat things. A lot of my writing is rooted in realism and what I’m comfortable exploring. Soooo, if you were hoping for a lighthearted take… no chance.

[ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

Jelly.

By definition, jelly is something sweet. A glossy, semisolid spread made from fruit juice and sugar, boiled to a thick consistency. Some people like sweets. Some don’t. But jelly can also mean jealousy. That gnawing feeling of wanting something—someone—that belongs to someone else.

And in this case? That something was you.

Not a thing, not an object, but damn if it didn’t feel like you were the prize in some unspoken battle. A war waged in subtle glances, clenched fists, and an underlying tension so thick it could choke the air out of a room.

And the worst part? You never asked for this.

Okay, maybe you did lie—just a little. But you sure as hell didn’t expect the weight of two unreadable stares pinning you down like prey, like you were something to be fought over.

Not the way Sol’s fiery red-orange eyes would zero in whenever some random guy so much as breathed in your direction, his expression eerily blank, but his fingers twitching like he was already mapping out a murder scene in his head.

And definitely not the way Geo, with his usual I-don’t-give-a-fuck aquamarine gaze, would suddenly become conveniently absent the moment on the same random guy—only for poor bastard to show up the next day with a busted nose and now suddenly doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.

Okay, maybe you like this…

Because—let’s be real—having two tall, hot men practically fighting for your attention? Yeah… yeah, that was kinda hot. And a little pathetic. But were you about to stop them? Absolutely not.

So far, Sol and Geo hadn’t actually thrown hands at each other yet, probably because they still wanted to stay on your good side. But whenever you were with one of them, the other just happened to be around, watching, lingering, acting like your personal shadow.

Meanwhile, some poor random guys so much as breathes in your direction, and suddenly, it’s a whole different story.

Like If there was one thing you could count on, it was that Sol and Geo had very different ways of dealing with people who dared to show interest in you.

Sol? Oh, he didn’t just get jealous—he lived in it. Stewed in it. Let it simmer under his skin like a slow-burning fire, always one spark away from an explosion. It didn’t matter how harmless the situation was. Some poor, clueless guy so much as breathed in your direction, and suddenly, the whole atmosphere shifted.

Like earlier, when you were just trying to study in the library.

“Who was that?” Sol asked, voice eerily calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that told you he was already two seconds away from tracking the guy down.

You didn’t even look up from your notes. “Don’t know. Just some guy.” That was, of course, the wrong answer.

Sol leaned in slightly, red-orange eyes narrowing. “He called you pretty.”

You finally looked up, raising a brow. “And? I am pretty.”

He didn’t laugh. Didn’t even crack a smirk. Just drummed his fingers on the table, his gaze locked onto the exit like he was memorizing the dude’s last known location. You had no doubt that if you gave him a name, he’d find some way to make sure the guy never spoke to you again.

Geo, on the other hand? Possessive, sure. But jealous? Not really. If anything, his reaction was less ‘Who the fuck does this guy think he is?’ and more ‘Why the hell are you entertaining this bullshit?’

Like when you went to watch him practice archery after class. You’d barely been there ten minutes before some guy strolled up, all confidence and cologne, asking for your number like Geo wasn’t literally holding a weapon in his hands. You were scared for him.

You were about to respond—probably to reject the guy, but you had been taking your sweet time with it—when a sharp thunk split the air.

The guy flinched, eyes wide as he turned to see an arrow buried into the tree right next to his head.

Geo, standing a few feet away, barely spared him a glance as he reached for another arrow. “Oops,” he said, deadpan. “Must been the wind...”

The guy was gone instantly, practically tripping over himself as he made his escape.

You turned to Geo, unimpressed. “Seriously?”

He finally looked at you, one brow raised. “What? I didn’t do anything.” Yeah. Sure.

At this point you was probably wondering, ‘Oh my, oh my, if Sol and Geo are on good terms with you, do they ever have beef like you said? Or do they just straight-up ignore each other?’

Well… kinda.

It’s less of a mutual rivalry and more of a Sol has serious, undying beef with Geo, while Geo, in true Geo fashion, just casually ignores Sol’s entire existence.

Of course, you’d never hang out with them at the same time. That would be a death wish. You like your life drama-filled but intact, thank you very much. So, you very intentionally avoid situations where they’d have to be in the same room for longer than five seconds.

You keep your time with them separate—Sol on one day, Geo on another. Sol is more of your side friend group situation, hanging out with Hyugo, doing whatever chaotic shit they get into. Meanwhile, Geo? He’s part of your main friend group—the one you’re actually seen with most of the time, which includes Brittany, Jericho, Jess, and Daryl.

However these been some days you’ll hang out with them along, just you and whoever. And because of this, there are definitely moments where you’ve caught Sol and Geo being jealous of each other.

Like the time you mentioned hanging out with Geo over the weekend, and Sol immediately went all dark and broody, arms crossed, staring at you like you’d just told him you were getting married and moving across the country.

“You spend a lot of time with him,” he muttered, voice low.

You blinked. “Yeah? And?”

“And I don’t like it.”

Well. At least he was honest.

Geo, on the other hand, had a way of casually throwing shade when he wanted to. Like when you showed up to hang out with the main group after spending time with Sol.

“Didn’t think we’d see you today,” Geo remarked, arching a brow. “Figured you were off cutting your wrist with him.” I’m sooo sorry if this offensive to anyone

You snorted awkwardly. “We were just hanging out.”

“Mhm. Sure.” He sipped his drink, giving you the most judgmental side-eye.

At the end of the day, you could ignore their little jealousy fits, but one thing was clear—Sol definitely had beef, and Geo just enjoyed playing unbothered while lowkey stirring the pot.

Then, so let’s talk about territory.

And let’s start with Sol.

Why Sol? Oh, I don’t know—he was fucking obvious.

He wasn’t subtle, and he didn’t care to be. You’d always catch his hand slipping around your shoulders, fingers ghosting over your waist—especially when Geo or your main group of friends were around. He didn’t just exist near you; he occupied your space, like some territorial cat refusing to let anyone else so much as breathe in your direction.

His touch? Not soft. Not casual. Possessive. Like he was making a statement without saying a single damn word.

It didn’t matter where you were—hallways, lunch, walking to class—Sol made sure everyone within a ten-foot radius knew exactly where you stood. And, more importantly, where he stood. Right. Next. To. You.

Then there was Geo.

Geo didn’t need all that. Where Sol was all hands-on, in-your-face, look-at-me-touching-you, Geo was smooth. Subtle. Calculated. Too composed for his own good, always watching, always analyzing.

He didn’t hover. He didn’t grab. He didn’t need to.

His presence alone was enough to send a message. The way he carried himself across campus—untouchable, like the world bent around him. When it came to you, he had his own ways of making sure people knew.

For example: the damn hoodie situation.

You didn’t even ask for his hoodie, but that didn’t stop him from slipping it over your shoulders anyway. Cold? Hoodie. Raining? Hoodie. Forgot your jacket? Guess what? Hoodie. And it wasn’t just about keeping you warm—no, no. This was branding. Because that hoodie was his. And when people saw his hoodie on you, it was like a silent warning: Don’t even try it.

And let’s not pretend like Geo didn’t notice when Sol was all over you.

He’d play it cool, act like he didn’t care, keep his distance. But you knew he saw it. You could feel his eyes, sharp and assessing, calculating like he was taking inventory of every single move Sol made.

Now, if Sol ever really overstepped?

Oh, Geo would make his move.

Not in front of you, though—he was way too clever for that. He didn’t need to start a scene. He didn’t need to flex his dominance in public.

Because by the next morning? You’d hear rumors.

Some random dude who tried to shoot his shot with you mysteriously walking around with a black eye or a swollen nose.

The whispers would be everywhere. “Who the hell messed with him?”

And you’d know.

It was Geo.

Handled quietly. Efficiently. Discreetly.

And if, by chance, you happened to notice the faint bruises on Geo’s knuckles the next day? Well. That was just something you didn’t bring up. Ever.

So, again, after everything, how do you feel about being possessed over by two men?

Like, at the end of the day, you were trapped—trapped between their heated stares, their possessiveness, their absolute refusal to let you exist without them staking their claim.

And you?

Oh, you were loving it, all in honesty.

What? If they were gonna play this game, you might as well play along. Hell, you held all the cards. You were the one pulling the strings, keeping them both on their toes, watching as they silently (and not-so-silently) battled for dominance over you.

Geo wanted to act all calm and cool? Like he was above all of this? Fine. Let him pretend. You knew exactly what buttons to push to make him show his hand. A little too much laughter when another guy paid you a compliment. Casually mentioning how Sol was so protective over you. Flashing him that innocent, knowing smile whenever he tried to act like he wasn’t watching your every move.

And Sol? Sol was easy.

If he wanted to claim you with his rough touches, his dark glares, the way his arm would tighten around your waist just a little too much whenever another guy so much as looked at you—then you’d let him. But only just enough to keep things interesting.

Because you weren’t about to make this easy for either of them.

You’d walk into the room wearing Geo’s hoodie—just to watch Sol’s jaw clench. You’d let Sol pull you close in front of Geo—just to catch the way his fingers twitched, his lips pressing into a thin line. You’d let their possessiveness fuel the game, and oh, was it a fun game to play.

Because at the end of the day?

You were the prize. And you knew it.

And what better way to start than with Geo?

Again, Geo was the kind of guy who never had to try too hard. Everything about him exuded effortless control—his tailored clothes, his rich upbringing, the way his hair was always just right like he walked straight out of some high-end fashion editorial.

Bilingual, top of his class, a sharp mind that dissected everything in the room before anyone even realized they were being watched.

Now, you wouldn’t call him perfect, but he was definitely a step above the average man. And that, in itself, was dangerous. Because Geo wasn’t just good at handling himself. 

He was good at handling you. PFFF, I love this man

And it was funny, really. He liked to act like he didn’t care—like he wasn’t watching your every move, like he wasn’t quietly attuned to your habits. But that was the biggest lie of all. Geo noticed everything.

He knew when you were irritated before you even sighed. Knew you were hungry before you even glanced at the menu. Knew what to say to make you laugh, even when you swore you weren’t in the mood. He was calculated—never too distant, but never too obvious.

You knew exactly how to use Geo’s attentiveness to your advantage. 

He was clever, a little too clever sometimes, but that made him so much more fun to tease. So, when you casually invited him to hang out during one of your long gaps between classes—just the two of you—you made sure Sol was close enough to overhear. You didn't even have to try hard.

Sol always seemed to be where you were. Always.

He had this uncanny ability to be in the right spot at the right time. You'd find him lingering in the background, sometimes in doorways, sometimes leaning against walls like he was just passing by, yet always managing to stay just out of sight, barely making his presence known. The look in his eyes, though? You couldn’t miss it.

You watched as his gaze snapped to you the second you leaned in closer to Geo. His fingers twitched like he was holding back some kind of primal urge to pull you away from Geo. But he stayed still, just watching, quietly simmering with frustration.

When Geo agreed, his voice casual and smooth, "Sure, I got nothing better to do," you could almost feel the storm brewing behind you.

And you loved it.

You chose the place carefully. A small bakery, nestled just off-campus. It was cozy, and intimate, yet open enough that no one could barge in without causing a scene.

You knew Sol wouldn’t come in unless he had a reason—he wasn’t stupid, after all. It was one of those rare moments when you actually wanted some peace, to be able to enjoy your time with Geo without the constant interruption of Sol’s overbearing presence.

Geo sat across from you, his posture impeccable, legs crossed and back straight as if he was molded into the seat. His hands rested lightly on the table, fingers tapping softly, the rhythmic sound of it mingling with the soft hum of campus life around you. Students typed away on their laptops, murmured conversations floated around you, and the occasional professor huddled in the corner grading papers. The place felt like the calm center of a storm—a comfortable space for both of you.

He looked at you, curiosity flashing in his eyes. "Why'd you pick here?" he asked, voice low, yet that sharp edge still noticeable beneath his calm facade. He propped his chin in his hand, elbow on the table, his fingers tapping idly against his cheek.

You shrugged, playing it cool. “I don’t know. The only place I can think of.”

Geo’s lips twitched then sighed, "Okay." His tone was amused, but there was an undeniable hint of intrigue there.

You both sat there for a moment, letting the tension simmer. Then, as if by instinct, Geo stood, his movements graceful and effortless. "You want anything?" he asked, already moving toward the counter before you could even respond.

Minutes later, he returned, sliding your usual drink toward you—no questions asked. It was like he had memorized your preferences by heart. He placed a small plate beside it too, something extra—probably dessert, because he knew you liked sweets, and his attention to detail was uncanny.

You reached for it, your fingers brushing his in the process. It wasn’t intentional, but that fleeting touch sent a ripple through you. For a moment, neither of you pulled away. 

Geo’s gaze flickered to your hand again, sharp and perceptive. "Your hand," he murmured softly, his voice taking on that subtle edge of concern. His eyes dropped to the small scrape, and for a second, you felt like it was more than just a casual observation—like he was searching for something beneath the surface.

You blinked, unsure how to respond. "You saw that?"

You had almost forgotten about the scrape, honestly. It had happened the day before when you’d tripped going up the stairs—nothing serious, just a small misstep as you were rushing between classes. You remembered cursing under your breath as you caught yourself on the railing, but the scrape was just a small inconvenience, easily forgotten in the chaos of your day.

Geo didn’t answer immediately. His fingers reached out, slow and measured, brushing across the skin of your palm where the scrape had left a thin red line. His touch was light at first, just skimming over the wound, but then it became more deliberate, more intentional as if he was examining it for signs you couldn’t even see.

His fingers tilted your hand gently, his touch soft but firm, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver up your arm. The way he lingered, taking his time to inspect the scrape, felt almost… protective. It wasn’t just the act of touching you—it was the focus, the way he seemed to memorize the small details, the way your skin felt against his.

When his eyes lifted to meet yours again, the intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat. There was something more than concern there—something deeper, something dangerous that you couldn’t quite place.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, voice barely audible beneath the soft murmur of conversation around you. His tone was almost conversational, but there was an edge to it, an unspoken command.

You hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the question. For some reason, you felt like you were being tested—like he wasn’t just asking about the scrape, but about you.

"I tripped going up the stairs yesterday," you said, your voice soft, trying to make it sound casual. "Nothing serious. I just lost my balance, and scraped my hand a little on the railing."

Geo didn’t respond right away. He just continued to watch you with that unreadable look in his eyes, like he was trying to figure out something you hadn’t said. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles again, slow and deliberate, and you felt the heat of his touch linger long after he pulled his hand away.

“I’m fine, really,” you murmured, trying to brush it off, but the way he held your gaze made it feel like there was more to this—more to him—than just a simple question about a scrape.

“Okay, if you say so,” he said, his voice low, his thumb lingering a moment longer as though he was reluctant to let go. The space between you seemed to shrink with every passing second, and you felt an undeniable pull, a magnetism that you weren’t sure you could escape. 

And as he finally pulled back, letting your hand slip from his, you couldn’t help but feel that odd, electric tension still hanging in the air. If your heart skipped a beat at the lingering warmth from Geo’s touch, well… that was between you and him. 

The next day, you were sitting next to Sol, his usual spot on the college roof where he always claimed the corner near the ledge, as his friend Hyugo went to town on the packed lunch Sol had made for him. 

You could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. Sol was pissed—furious, to be exact—but he wasn’t going to tell you that. Not directly. Oh no, that wasn’t his style. He wouldn’t admit to stalking you hanging out with Geo, not even in the vaguest sense. So, you had to work for it.

You hadn’t even taken a full bite of your food before Sol was already speaking. "You made lunch today?" he asked, his voice far too casual. But you could hear the undercurrent of something. Jealousy? Possessiveness?

You paused, spoon halfway to your mouth, and gave him a look. "No, Geo made it for me," you answered nonchalantly, barely glancing at him.

That stopped Sol cold. You saw his grip on his water bottle tighten, his expression faltering for just a moment. 

Hyugo, who had been enthusiastically chewing his food, even slowed down to glance at the both of you. "My little brother??" He blinked, the surprise in his voice unmistakable.

"Yeah," you said with a shrug, pushing your hair back out of your face. "We went out to a bakery yesterday. We had leftovers, so Geo made this for me with his own cooking."

You made a show of taking a bite of the food, trying to act casual, but you could tell Sol was barely holding it together. His face remained unreadable, but you could practically feel the simmering irritation in the air.

"Have fun?" Sol’s voice suddenly went tight—too tight. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his gaze flickered between you and Hyugo as if he were struggling to hold back something.

You grinned, knowing exactly what was happening. "Yup."

Sol’s grip on his water bottle tightened even more, the plastic creaking under his fingers. "Really?" His voice was lower now, tinged with something darker. The possessiveness was unmistakable.

You leaned back slightly, savoring the moment. "Mhm. Geo’s actually pretty great company, you know."

And that was it. That was the exact moment you saw something snap in Sol’s expression. His jaw tightened, muscles twitching with barely contained rage. His gaze darkened to something dangerous, something you didn’t quite recognize but felt all the way down your spine. His hand, which had been resting on the ledge beside you, clenched into a fist, almost as if he were physically fighting the urge to pull you closer.

You could practically feel the heat radiating off him, the raw jealousy simmering beneath his calm exterior. 

Next was Sol, of course.

You see, Sol was on the opposite end of the spectrum in terms of lifestyle compared to Geo. Dyed hair, dark clothes, the entire emo aesthetic. But damn, despite all that edge, Sol never failed to make your jaw drop with the simplest actions. 

The way he carried himself, that intense gaze, the way his presence seemed to swallow the air around him. He was a walking contradiction—grungy yet perfectly composed, dangerous yet captivating.

You watched him for a moment, letting the silence stretch between you. Then, leaning slightly toward him, you tilted your head, voice light as you broke the tension. "So, Sol... what are you doing tonight?"

He glanced at you quickly, but then his eyes slid back toward the ground, pretending to be nonchalant. "Nothing, why?" His voice was cool, but you could tell he was listening, waiting for your next words with that quiet intensity of his.

"How about we do something together?" you asked casually, making sure to catch his gaze, letting him know this wasn’t just an idle suggestion. "A little... escape from the usual?" For a split second, you saw the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes—he wasn’t sure if he should be pissed or if he was genuinely interested. 

You leaned in a little closer, watching his every move, waiting for the shift. "Maybe the arcade? Or the rooftop bar downtown?" you continued, a playful grin tugging at your lips as you named the places that were always ‘off-limits’ in some way—places where neither Geo nor any of his calculated controlled habits would be there to shadow you. 

You could feel Sol’s pulse race, his curiosity piqued, but you both knew he wasn’t going to admit it.

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. You waited, knowing Sol was contemplating the idea with that unreadable look on his face. Then, with a slight shift in posture, he leaned back, crossing his arms. "Why not both?" he finally said, his voice low and laced with that underlying tension.

You couldn’t help but smirk, a triumphant little rush sweeping over you. "Thought you’d say that."

He tilted his head at you, a challenging gleam in his eyes. "You’re lucky I’m in the mood for it."

But you knew the truth: he wasn’t just in the mood for it. Sol was making this choice for a reason. He was staking his claim, showing you exactly what you meant to him, even if he wasn’t saying it outright.

"Let’s go then," you said, pushing up from the ledge and grabbing your bag. "I’ll drive."

You and Sol ended up at the arcade bar, the dim lighting, neon signs, and the sounds of games and laughter buzzing in the background. The place was filled with the usual mix of drunk college kids, rowdy groups playing shooting games, and couples lost in the flashing lights. The air smelled faintly of beer and popcorn, and the low hum of music blended with the clinking and clattering of game machines. 

You walked up to the claw game, your eyes immediately spotting a small plush sitting just out of reach, nestled between other stuffed animals. A mischievous grin tugged at your lips as you studied the claw’s movement. 

"Can you get it for me, Sol?" you asked innocently, but there was a hint of playful challenge in your tone. 

Sol raised an eyebrow at you, his lips twitching into that familiar, knowing smirk. "I’m not your personal claw machine expert, you know."

"Oh, come on. You’re good with your hands, aren’t you?" you teased, turning your head to meet his gaze, making sure he saw the way your fingers twitched at the machine's controls.

Sol didn’t reply right away, just watching you, a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes. His gaze followed your every move, always studying you like you were some kind of puzzle he couldn’t quite crack. You didn’t expect him to move just yet, though—because you had a plan. 

The claw machine was already set up for failure in your favor. You purposefully timed your moves to keep missing the plush, missing the claw’s target by mere inches each time. It was an art at this point, a silent dance between you and the machine. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Sol stepping up behind you. The warmth of his body pressed against yours for just a moment, the heat of him radiating even through the buzz of the arcade. His breath was warm against your ear, and you could feel his chest rise and fall just behind you as he watched, his body too close for comfort, too close to be innocent.

“You’re missing the timing," Sol’s voice was low, almost a growl, as he leaned down just enough for his nose to brush against the side of your hair. You could feel the weight of his presence behind you, feel the way his hands hovered just above yours, ready to step in if you let him. "You need to wait for the claw to line up perfectly before you move it. Let it hang for a second longer."

You shivered slightly, the sound of his voice in your ear making something inside you stir. The combination of his closeness and the tension from the game made your heart race, your hand still hovering over the joystick.

"Show me," you murmured, your voice a little more breathless than you intended, the excitement of the moment taking over.

Sol didn’t hesitate. His hand brushed over yours, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist as he guided your movements, his body pressing further into yours. The subtle brush of his chest against your back made your breath hitch in your throat.

He adjusted your grip on the joystick, his fingers briefly brushing your skin as he gently moved your hand to line up the claw with the black cat. His breath, warm and steady, ghosted against your ear as he spoke again, a soft command mixed with a hint of amusement. "Now, wait for it…"

You could feel his heart beating against your back, a steady rhythm that matched the growing tension in your chest. His thumb brushed over your wrist lightly as you waited, the seconds dragging on forever.

And then, in a move so precise, you almost didn’t see it, the claw dipped down, catching the plush perfectly. You both watched in silence as it rose, bringing the plush toy closer and closer and finally dropping it into the prize chute. "Got it," you said, the words almost a whisper but filled with a triumphant smile. 

Sol stepped back, his body leaving a sudden chill in the space where he’d just been pressed against you. You turned to face him, only to see the satisfied, yet somehow unreadable expression on his face. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you as you picked up the plush, holding it in your hands like it was some kind of prize—not just the one you won from the claw game.

"You’re welcome," Sol muttered under his breath, but the way his gaze lingered on you, the way his lips barely twitched into something close to a smirk, told you everything you needed to know.

The next day, after classes, you found yourself lounging in the usual spot outside the campus café, the one with the low-sunk benches and worn-out cushions, perfect for chilling when the afternoon sun warmed everything just right. Crowe and Geo were the only ones free—everyone else was busy with their own afternoon classes, leaving the three of you with some time to kill. 

You’d already had your morning classes earlier, just like Crowe and Geo, getting the heavy lifting out of the way so you could enjoy the rest of the day without the looming shadow of assignments or exams. It was quiet, just the hum of conversations from other students and the occasional passing car. 

Crowe casually leaned back in his seat, fiddling with his phone, but then his gaze landed on the plush you had won at the arcade bar last night. The small plush sat beside you, nestled in your arms. It was barely noticeable unless you were paying attention, but Crowe definitely noticed.

"You went to the arcade bar last night, huh?" he remarked casually, lifting an eyebrow as his eyes flicked over to the plush. "Looks like you had fun. You win that?" He pointed to the black cat in your lap, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You smirked, leaning back against the seat as you shrugged. "Yeah, had a pretty good time." You could almost feel Crowe’s curiosity growing, but you didn’t give him too much to work with. You weren’t sure if you were ready to delve into the details of your night just yet.

But before you could say anything else, Geo, who’d been unusually quiet up until now, spoke up, his tone casual yet probing. "Did you go with Brittany?" he asked, his gaze flickering briefly toward you as he leaned forward slightly.

You tilted your head, giving him a sideways glance. "No," you replied with a small, knowing smile. "I went with Sol."

Crowe’s eyes widened slightly at that, his interest piqued. "Sol?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "The guy you partner up with in your art gen ed?"

You nodded, glancing at Geo from the corner of your eye. "Yeah. That's him."

For a moment, the conversation seemed to stall. Geo’s expression didn’t change, but you could feel his energy shift slightly, the subtle tension in the air thickening. His eyes remained cool, distant, like always—but there was something just beneath the surface. A flicker. A brief crack in his calm, and then it was gone, leaving you wondering if you’d imagined it. 

Crowe, however, seemed much more openly intrigued. "Didn't know you two hung out like that," he said, still grinning. "Interesting."

You met Geo's eyes again, but this time, he was looking at the table, fingers tapping lightly against his cup. His face was as unreadable as ever, but the way he had asked about Brittany—so focused, so sharp—left you with a sense of unease. It was subtle, but there.

You couldn’t help but watch him for a beat longer than necessary, but Geo’s cool demeanor didn’t crack. If he was feeling anything, he wasn’t showing it.

"Yeah," you said again, your voice quieter now as you let the weight of your words sink in. "Sol’s... something."

Crowe raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Something, huh?" He leaned in a little closer, his playful teasing tone back. "Sounds like you're keeping some secrets from us."

You just shrugged again, keeping the mystery between you all. You didn’t need to explain yourself. Not yet, anyway.

The rest of the conversation drifted off, but you could feel Geo’s eyes flicking to you every so often like he was sizing something up. Whether it was the situation, you, or something else entirely, you couldn’t quite tell.

But for now, you weren’t going to push.

After all, this had been going on for months now—stretching into the current year. Geo and Sol—two men who had wormed their way into your thoughts in ways you couldn’t quite understand. It wasn’t just when you were around them. No, their presence lingered even when they weren’t there, like an unshakable hum in the back of your mind. It circled you constantly, like an orbit you couldn’t escape, especially as you sat in bed late at night, trying to focus on your homework.

Every time you’d start to make progress, one of them would pop into your head, their images uninvited and persistent.

Sometimes, you'd find yourself imagining them both vying for your attention at once—Geo, with his cool, almost aloof demeanor, and Sol, burning with that raw, intense energy he always carried. You’d picture them both charming you at the same time, competing for your affections in some twisted game. You’d have to smack your head with a pillow to shake the thought loose, as if physical force could snap you back into reality.

The silent gentleman, Geo, who made you feel like you were the only person in the room with his quiet attention, and Sol, the intense heartthrob, who always seemed like he was on the verge of devouring everything you were—each one tugged at your heart in a different way. 

Your heart was split between the two of them, and the struggle was maddening.

In class, your mind would wander again, caught between the two. This was supposed to be a fun little game—something lighthearted. You didn’t want to fall for either of them, not really. Yet, despite knowing it wasn’t fair to claim both, your heart couldn't help but yearn for both of them, even if you couldn’t have them. You couldn’t be that person, could you? Still, the idea lingered, like a tempting thought that wouldn’t leave. Ugh. What the hell were you going to do?

It’s not like you could have a threesome with them, right?

…Unless…

Before you could delve deeper into that increasingly absurd—and wildly tempting—thought, a voice cut through your spiraling thoughts.

"Hey, you good?"

You blinked, snapping back to reality, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. There was Sol, standing over you, his pen set down on the table in front of you. His hand—big and warm—reached out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear with a simple, almost gentle touch. 

It was something so small, so subtle, but it completely threw you off. 

Your breath caught in your throat, and you had to cough to cover the sudden rush of heat flooding your chest.

Shit.

"You sure?" Sol’s voice was low and steady, but there was a note of concern in it that caught you off guard. His eyes lingered on you, studying your face, as if trying to decipher what was going on behind your cool exterior. "That look on your face says otherwise."

You quickly shook your head, trying to brush it off, though you knew it didn’t quite work. “I’m fine, really,” you said, though your voice had a slight edge to it—irritation creeping in. Why was he always so perceptive? It made you uncomfortable.

Sol didn’t buy it. Of course, he didn’t. He stood there, watching you with that intense gaze of his, making you feel like he could see right through you. Maybe you weren’t fine. Maybe the situation was more complicated than you'd like to admit, and maybe, just maybe, he was the one who could throw you off balance with just a touch.

But no, you wouldn’t let him know that. Not yet. You were fine.

You were just… fine. Right?

Fuck no.

Art class ended, and the moment the bell rang, you bolted out of the classroom, making a quick escape. You needed to get away—fast. The building seemed endless, but you were determined to make it out as you pushed the glass door open before you ran into anyone who would slow you down.

But as you rounded the corner, you collided with something—no, someone. Strong arms caught you before you could stumble back. You looked up to find Geo standing there, an unreadable expression on his face, clearly waiting for you.

“Watch where you’re going,” Geo said, his voice steady, though there was an edge to it as he held you firmly. “Could’ve fallen.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat from the sudden closeness. “I know,” you muttered, pulling away from his grip. But as you tried to step back, you could feel his gaze on you, like he could read you better than anyone else. 

Oh shit.

“Something wrong?” Geo asked, his tone softer, more probing now. He tilted his head slightly, studying your face.

You didn’t want to deal with this. Not here. Not with half the school walking by, eyes glued to the scene. You couldn’t bring yourself to make this anything public—not when the whole damn hallway was buzzing with life. You didn’t want to be an exhibit. 

“Nothing,” you snapped, avoiding his gaze as you turned to walk away, trying to make your steps as quick and purposeful as possible.

But of course, Geo wasn’t the type to let things slide. You could feel the weight of his footsteps behind you, steady like he wasn’t planning to let you go that easily.

You kept walking, the distance between you and him narrowing as he caught up with you, his presence heavy in the air.

“Don’t think I’m letting this go,” he said, his voice low and knowing. 

You almost wanted to tell him to drop it. To stop following you. But you couldn’t find the words. You’d rather deal with this alone in your studio apartment at your dorm building. Maybe just let the work pile up, let the hours drag on. You didn’t want to have this conversation—not now, not in front of everyone.

But as Geo walked behind you, you knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t going to let you hide from it.

You walked briskly toward your dorm, eager for the quiet refuge of your room. The noise of the campus buzzed around you, but you barely registered it. You needed a moment to think, to breathe, to escape the tension that had been building all day.

Just as you rounded the corner, ready to slip inside the safety of your dorm building, your luck completely betrayed you.

Sol stood in front of the door, arms crossed, his usual playful smirk replaced by something that looked almost like frustration. Behind you, you could feel Geo’s presence, steady and unyielding. He’d caught up to you.

“Can I help you?” you muttered, not bothering to hide the irritation in your voice as you stopped short, staring at Sol’s casual stance.

Sol’s eyes flickered to Geo for a moment before focusing back on you. “So, what’s going on?” His voice was laced with amusement, but there was a clear edge to it, like he knew something you weren’t saying.

Geo didn’t speak at first, standing just behind you, as if guarding the space between you and Sol. He wasn’t making any moves to push past, but his presence was unmistakable, like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

You took a deep breath, hoping the annoyance that flared in your chest didn’t spill out as you spoke. “Nothing’s going on,” you said, your tone clipped. “I’m just trying to get to my dorm.”

“Oh, you’re trying to get to your dorm?” Sol repeated, his eyebrows lifting slightly, a mock sweetness to his voice. “How convenient. He’s with you, but I haven’t seen him follow you here before.”

Geo shifted slightly behind you, his gaze on Sol but saying nothing. His silence was suffocating, like the calm before a storm, but you didn’t want to deal with it. Not now. Not here.

“Seriously,” you said, your voice tight, trying to push past the bubbling frustration. “I’m not in the mood for this, okay? I’m not doing whatever game you two are playing. I just want some space.”

Sol stepped forward, blocking your path. “But space from what? From me? Or from Him?” He said, more like in a worried tone.

Your heart skipped, and the tension in your chest built up again. You had no idea what either of them wanted—if they were trying to get under your skin, if they were genuinely concerned, or if they just liked messing with you. 

Either way, you were getting frustrated.

Geo finally spoke, his voice low and even. “There’s right. If they want space, they should get it.”

Sol’s gaze shifted to him, then back to you. His lips pressed together in the way he did when he was trying to hold back. But the tension between them was palpable. You could feel the pull of it, both of them watching you, waiting for something. You weren’t sure what it was, but you knew you didn’t want to find out.

“So what’s it going to be?” Sol asked, his tone still light but sharper now, like a blade hidden under velvet.

You were fucked, weren’t you? 

Stuck between two guys who couldn’t seem to let you be, two men who both knew how to get to you in different ways. And for once, you didn’t know how to escape it. You didn’t know how to get them both to leave you alone. 

You had to choose your next words carefully, but for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure what the right choice even was.

The silence hung thick between you, Sol and Geo, both of them locked in a battle of wills without saying much—yet it felt like everything was being said. You could feel the tension in the air, thick enough to suffocate.

Then, with the smallest crack in the quiet, it started.

“You can’t seriously be this fucking oblivious, can you?” Sol’s voice was sharp, a knife-edge cutting through the air. His eyes flared with a familiar anger, but there was something else there now—something possessive.

Geo didn’t back down. “What the hell are you talking about?” His voice was steady, but there was a hardness to it, something dangerous lurking beneath the calm.

“Oh, you’re really gonna act like you don’t know?” Sol snapped, taking a step forward, his gaze never leaving Geo. “There’s not some fucking toy for you to keep playing with. Can’t you see there’s already fucking exhausted from all of this?”

The words hit like a punch, but they weren’t aimed at you—not directly. Still, you could feel the weight of them, as if they were pulling you in, squeezing tighter and tighter.

You stood there, frozen. 

Your thoughts swirled in your mind—fuck this, you can’t deal with this now. 

You wanted to scream, to tell them to shut up and let you go, but the words never came. Instead, you just stared at the ground, feeling the pressure of the moment pressing down on you.

“Exhausted?” Geo’s laugh was low, almost bitter. “They haven’t said a word to me about being tired of anything.” His eyes flicked to you, but for once, you didn’t meet his gaze. You couldn’t. It would make it worse.

“No one is talking to you…” Sol’s voice was nearly a growl now, and you could feel the heat radiating off him like he was a flame ready to burn everything down. “Is that how this is going to be? ‘Cause you know what? I’m not letting you have her.”

Geo’s response was immediate, and the words were like steel. “Oh, I don’t have to take anything from you. I’m not the one chasing her around pretending to be thier fucking savior.”

You winced at the word savior. It felt like everything was crumbling in on itself. The walls that you had spent so long trying to keep up—between them, between your feelings, between yourself—were crumbling into dust.

And you didn’t stop them. You didn’t say a word. The argument, as much as it was hurting you, felt easier than breaking the silence. It felt better than picking a side, better than making this worse.

Instead, you just stood there, eyes glued to the floor, heart racing as the fight between them escalated. Every word, every accusation, every harsh tone felt like a dagger.

This is your fault, isn’t it? Playing a game between two possessive men... 

Ugh. All you wanted was to be left alone. To breathe. But the more you tried to avoid the chaos, the tighter it clenched around you, suffocating you at every turn.

Sol stepped closer, his eyes flashing with a fierce intensity. “There’s not some game. You can’t just show up and expect them to fall in line. You don’t get to have them like that.”

Geo took a step forward, closing the space between them. “And who the hell are you to say how I get to have them? Do you think you can control this? You think you can keep acting like they belong to you?”

You could feel your pulse quicken as the anger between them seemed to rise, boiling over, threatening to explode. You were caught in the middle, a bystander to a fight that you caused.

And still, you did nothing. You didn’t speak, didn’t intervene. You just stood there, your heart hammering in your chest, trying to fight back the suffocating wave of frustration, fear, and exhaustion.

“Stop it,” you finally whispered, so quietly that neither of them seemed to hear it at first. But they were both too deep in their argument to notice.

"Stop," you said louder this time, your voice shaking but firm. “Just stop. I don’t want this.”

Geo and Sol froze at the sound of your voice, both of them pausing mid-sentence, and for a moment, you thought that maybe—just maybe—they might listen. But then Geo’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.

“Look, I don’t need your help, either of you. I’m just… I just need some fucking space,” you said, your words sharp and exhausted, finally breaking the dam of silence that had been holding you in place. You didn’t want to explain yourself anymore. You just wanted them to understand.

Geo and Sol exchanged a brief, tense glance, but neither of them moved.

Your voice cracked slightly as you took another step back. “Please. Just… give me some time.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked away, the weight of their eyes on your back like a burning brand. The silence between you all lingered as you left them standing there, words unfinished in the air. 

You didn't know what would come next, but for now, you needed to be alone.

You slammed the door behind you, leaning your forehead against the cool wood for a moment, just to collect yourself. The weight of it all hit you then—every little mistake, every decision that had led to this point. Slowly, you slid down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as if holding yourself together was the only thing left you could do.

You hated this. Hated the mess you’d made. Hated that you thought you could handle it, that you could juggle them both without consequences. The worst part? You didn’t even really know what you were hoping for—what you thought would happen. You had an idea, but now that you were here, it felt like you’d just stepped into your own trap.

You cared for both of them, deeply. And as much as that made your chest ache, you couldn’t forget that they were adults, just like you. They were capable of making their own decisions, and this mess? It was your doing. You let it spiral. 

With a deep sigh, you finally pulled off your shoes and tossed them aside, already thinking about the shower you desperately needed. Maybe, just maybe, they'd be chill by the time you were done. 

But, fuck, who were you kidding? This was far from over.

Meanwhile, Geo exhaled sharply through his nose, the tension in his shoulders growing with every missed shot. The arrow barely scraped the target this time, and he clicked his tongue in frustration. It wasn’t like him to miss. His hands were steady, his breathing controlled—but his mind? His mind was an absolute mess.

Because of you.

Five damn calls. Five times he let it ring, only to get nothing in return. He had half a mind to try again, but instead, he shoved his phone into his pocket and shot off a final text.

I’ll leave you alone.

And yet, the moment he sent it, he regretted it. He didn't want to leave you alone. That was the whole problem, wasn’t it?

Before he could dwell on it, a voice cut through the air.

“So, you think you’re funny, huh?”

Geo didn’t even flinch. He already knew who it was before he turned his head. Sol was standing in the archery room now, door shut behind him, posture loose but his eyes sharp.

Geo rolled his eyes, lowering his bow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, emo.”

That was the last straw.

In a blink, Sol had grabbed him by the collar, yanking him forward, their faces inches apart. Geo barely had time to process the shift before Sol’s voice came low and dark.

“Don’t start that ignorant bullshit,” Sol growled, fingers tightening in Geo’s shirt. “I know exactly what you’re doing. You’re trying to make me look like an ass.”

Geo let out a breath of laughter, cool and effortless, but there was an edge to it. “Me? I didn’t do anything.” His smirk deepened the glint in his eye anything but apologetic. “You do that enough as it is.”

Sol’s grip tightened, knuckles whitening. His eyes were burning, brimming with something dangerously close to fury.

Geo just sighed.

Sol’s jaw twitched, his fingers still tight in Geo’s collar as he narrowed his eyes. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" His voice was low, simmering with something dangerous. "You’re obsessed. You keep trying to prove you’re better than me—so much so that you’d stoop this low?"  

Geo let out a quiet scoff, his expression unreadable. "Obsessed?" He tilted his head slightly, considering the word. "If I were obsessed, you wouldn't even be able to breathe near them." His voice was smooth, even. "I trust them. I respect them. That’s what this is. You? You just want control."  

Sol's grip wavered for half a second before his teeth clenched. "That’s some bullshit ass-kissing if I’ve ever heard it."  

Geo’s smirk barely faltered. "And yet, you’re the one constantly up their ass for attention." He leaned in just slightly, voice dropping lower, colder. "How about you try treating them like a normal person instead of acting like you own them?"  

Sol's expression darkened, but Geo didn’t move, didn’t even blink. The tension was suffocating, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them like a loaded gun.  

Then, with deliberate slowness, Geo reached up and pried Sol’s fingers off his collar, brushing himself off as if the whole thing had been a minor inconvenience.  

"I’d say grow up," Geo muttered, turning away, "but we both know that’s never happening."

Sol let out a short, humorless laugh. "I have no problem settling this with my fists, you know." His tone was sharp, a direct challenge.  

Geo rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "Right, because that’s always worked so well for you." He adjusted the strap on his archery gear, not even looking at Sol as he spoke. "You can threaten me all you want, but we both know neither of us would like where that road leads."  

Sol’s fingers twitched. His patience was razor-thin. "Tch." His brows furrowed, annoyance flickering across his face. "You always got that smug, rich asshole act going, huh?" He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "News flash, dude—just because you’ve got money doesn’t mean you're better than me."  

Geo finally turned to face him, completely unfazed. "Never said I was." He packed up the rest of his things, moving with an infuriating amount of calm. Then, as he reached the door, he paused. Looking over his shoulder, he smirked.  

"And?" His voice was light, almost teasing. "At least I’m not some crazy ‘yandere’ lover."  

That was it. Sol’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. 

Oh, this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Neither of them were backing down.  

Not until you choose.  

You stepped outside, and the cold hit you first—a stark contrast to the warmth of your dorm, where you had been holed up for the past week. The wind carried the faint chatter of students, the distant sound of traffic blending with the occasional echo of laughter. The familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee from the campus café lingered in the air, but even that didn’t soothe the tension coiling in your chest.  

The campus felt the same, unchanged as if the world had continued spinning without you. And yet, to you, everything felt different. The space between each step felt heavier, your mind was unwilling the overthink thoughts.

You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, fingers clenching the fabric as you moved toward the main part of campus. It should’ve felt freeing, stepping out again, stretching your legs after days of isolation. But instead, a strange unease settled in your gut, an unshakable tension that refused to leave.  

You sighed, pulling out your phone, and you flicked through your notifications.  

Missed Calls: 15+

Messages Unread: 10+

Both are from Sol and Geo.

You sighed, rolling your eyes at yourself. You really should call them back.  

But which one?  

If you called Geo first, Sol would find out—one way or another. If you called Sol, Geo would know. Those two could be halfway across the world from each other, and they’d still figure it out.  

Just your luck.  

You stared at your phone, thumb hovering over the screen. A part of you thought about just ignoring them both for another day—but you already knew that wouldn’t last.  

So...

Who first?

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

You inhaled deeply, feeling the moment's weight settle over you as you stared at Sol’s contact on your phone screen. The decision to finally call him had been a long time coming, but now that it was here, your stomach churned with the uncertainty of what might follow.

You tapped the screen, watching the call ring, each second stretching longer than the last.

The phone barely rang twice before he picked up.

"You finally decided to call," he said, his voice lower than usual—quieter, almost softer, but there was an edge to it. Not anger. Not relief. But something else that you couldn’t quite place. The words hung in the air, a strange mixture of resignation and something else that made your chest tighten.

You hesitated, guilt gnawing at your insides. You’d kept your distance for so long. Too long. And now, hearing his voice—so calm, but threaded with an unmistakable undercurrent of tension—it felt almost like a punch to the gut. "Yeah. I figured it was about time," you said, your voice steady despite the roiling anxiety beneath the surface.

There was a long pause on the other end, just the faintest sound of him exhaling—a sigh of sorts. You could almost hear the weight of the silence before he spoke again. 

"You okay?"

The simplicity of the question threw you off. You expected sarcasm, irritation—hell, even some passive-aggressive jabs would’ve been easier to handle. But this? It was genuine. A rawness in his tone that cut through everything else. He was asking, not because he wanted something, but because he actually cared. And that scared you.

You swallowed, fighting the lump in your throat, unsure of how to answer. "I—yeah. I just needed time," you said, the words coming out quieter than you intended.

"I get that now," he replied after a beat, the faint rasp in his voice betraying something deeper. "But I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t like it."

His honesty hit you harder than you expected. It wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but somehow, it felt like a relief. Sol wasn’t the type to mince words, and in this moment, you knew exactly where he stood. You weren’t sure what you were expecting from this conversation, but it was clear that what you’d put off for so long was finally catching up to both of you.

There was another long silence, the kind that settled heavy between you, and you could almost feel him on the other side of the phone, waiting, unsure of what you were going to say next. 

"Can we talk?" you asked, the words leaving your mouth before you could second-guess them. The finality of it surprised you—this was it. The moment you’d both been dancing around for too long.

Sol was quiet for a second, the kind of silence that stretched just a little too long, leaving you hanging on the edge of the conversation, wondering if you’d pushed him too far. You held your breath, waiting. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, though still laced with that familiar edge of uncertainty. 

"You sure?" he asked, the words carrying a subtle weight, as though he were wondering if this was something you both could handle.

"I wouldn’t be calling if I wasn’t," you replied, your voice firmer now. You weren’t going to back down. You needed to talk. You needed answers. And maybe, just maybe, you needed him.

There was a shift in his tone, like a decision had been made. A soft exhale followed by the sound of movement on his end, maybe him shifting in his seat, maybe running a hand through his hair. You could almost picture it—Sol, leaning back, thinking, processing everything that had happened. 

"All right," he said finally. "Art classroom. After classes. The door’s open."

The way he said it made your heart skip. It wasn’t just an invitation—it was a call to meet, a place where things could be sorted. He wasn’t forcing it, but there was no mistaking the gravity in his words. He wanted to talk, too.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. "Okay," you replied, the single word carrying more weight than anything else you could’ve said.

"Good," Sol responded, his tone softer now. "See you then."

The call ended with a click, and for a moment, you just stood there, holding the phone in your hand, staring at the screen. You didn’t know what would happen next, but you couldn’t keep running anymore. Whatever was between you and Sol—it was time to face it. 

Whatever happened, you would figure it out.

With a heavy sigh, you set the phone down, bracing yourself for whatever this conversation would bring. You couldn’t avoid it any longer.

The air outside was crisp, the warmth of the midday sun barely cutting through the lingering chill of early spring. Students filtered across the courtyard in waves, either rushing to their next class or loitering in clusters, laughing and chatting like nothing in the world could touch them.

You wished you could feel that kind of ease right now. Instead, the weight of unfinished business pressed against your chest as you stepped out of the building, prepared to put as much distance between yourself and the past week's tension as possible.

Then you saw him.

Geo.

Leaning against a pillar near the main walkway, his phone in hand, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t looking at you—not directly—but you knew him well enough to recognize the way his posture shifted, the subtle tilt of his head.

He’d been waiting for you. Your stomach tightened. Great.

Your grip on your bag strap tightened as you debated walking right past him. Maybe he’d let you go. Maybe you could avoid whatever this conversation was going to be—at least for a little longer.

But you knew better.

Geo wasn’t the type to let things slide, not when something was clearly bothering him. And sure enough, just as you tried to step around him, his voice cut through the noise of passing students.

"Hey."

You exhaled sharply, stopping in your tracks. “Hey, Geo.”

Finally, he lifted his gaze. Sharp, assessing—searching.

For what? You weren’t sure.

Whatever he saw in your face made something in his expression tighten, but he didn’t press immediately. Instead, he pushed off the pillar with an easy, practiced motion, sliding his hands into his pockets as he fell into step beside you.

Like this was normal. It wasn’t.

The silence stretched between you both, thick and heavy. You weren’t sure what to say, and for once, Geo didn’t immediately break it with some casual comment.

Then, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

"Okay, this is getting awkward as hell."

You turned to see Crowe standing a few feet away, arms crossed, one brow arched in amusement.

Geo scoffed. "No one's talking to you, Jericho.”

"Yeah, well, someone's gotta say it," Crowe shot back, stepping closer. He looked between you and Geo before sighing. "All right, real talk? You two need to clear the air, 'cause this weird-ass tension? It's making everyone uncomfortable."

Your stomach twisted. You knew it. Of course, the group had noticed. Even if you had spent the past week avoiding everyone, the energy between you and Geo—between you, Geo, and Sol—had lingered like a stain.

You exhaled sharply. "Crowe, not now."

"Then when?" Crowe challenged. "You can’t keep dodging this forever. And I know damn well Geo won’t drop it."

You flicked a glance at Geo, and sure enough, he was watching you carefully. He hadn’t denied it.

You rolled your shoulders, trying to shake the weight pressing down on you. “I just—” You cut yourself off, sighing again.

Geo spoke then, low and even. "I just want to talk."

It was that simple. Yet, it wasn’t.

Crowe tilted his head, giving you a pointed look. "So?"

You hesitated. You had already agreed to see Sol later. Adding Geo into the mix now? It felt like asking for trouble.

But at the same time…

You swallowed. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

Geo nodded once, slipping his hands into his pockets. Crowe grinned like he had just won something.

"Good. Now, I’m gonna leave before I end up in the middle of some dramatic lovers' quarrel." He spun on his heel and walked off, muttering under his breath about “people and their complicated ass relationships.”

You took a slow breath, turning to Geo. “Where do you wanna do this?”

He gestured ahead. “Walk with me.”

You nodded. And with that, you fell into step beside him, feeling the weight of everything unsaid press down on you. Geo's silence as you walked together was unnerving, but not unusual. You had known him long enough to recognize when he was working something out in his head, dissecting information and piecing together a bigger picture.

And then—

"You're going to see him, aren't you?"

You froze for half a second before narrowing your eyes at him. “How do you—”

Geo smirked, but there was no amusement in his expression. "You just gave yourself away."

Fuck.

You clenched your jaw, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder. “I have to talk to him,” you admitted, voice measured.

Geo hummed, as if considering something, then tilted his head. "Because you like him?"

That stopped you. You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The words were there, pressing against your tongue, but they refused to come out.

Geo exhaled sharply, leaning his head back before looking at you again, his usual cool demeanor cracking just slightly. "You need to stay away from him." His voice was firm, but not commanding—like he was trying to warn you rather than control you. "He’s not what you think he is."

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Oh, what, you’re jealous?”

Geo didn’t react right away, just watching you with an unreadable expression. You turned to leave, deciding you were done with this conversation, but before you could take more than two steps, his hand caught yours.

Not forcefully. Not to restrain. Just… holding.

You hesitated, glancing back at him. His fingers were warm around yours, his grip firm but careful.

"I'm serious." His voice was softer this time, his brows drawing together slightly. "Believe me."

Your breath hitched. Geo wasn’t the type to plead, not like this.

You stared at him, then sighed, pulling your hand away. “Geo.” Your tone was tired. “I’m gonna see him. Whether you like it or not.”

Geo inhaled through his nose, shaking his head as if you were being stubborn. "Use that brain of yours," he muttered, frustrated but still concerned. "You can see it, can't you? Sol isn't a good person."

You met his gaze, searching for something in his eyes—anger, bitterness, jealousy. But all you found was worry.

Still, you shook your head. “I’ll figure things out myself.”

And with that, you walked away, leaving Geo standing there, watching you go.

The sun had long since begun to set by the time you made your way to the art building, the cool evening air wrapping around you in a welcome embrace. The campus felt quieter than usual, the steady hum of student chatter replaced by the low murmur of distant conversations and the occasional rustle of leaves. You walked down the hallway, your footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors, before coming to the art studio door.

You hesitated just for a second, your hand hovering over the doorknob before you pushed it open, stepping inside. The room was hardly lit, the golden hues of the sunset spilling through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the scattered easels and half-finished projects. The smell of graphite and paint lingered in the air, a familiar comfort. The hum of a quiet heater filled the space, and the soft shuffle of papers as someone moved around was the only sound.

And there he was.

Sol sat on a stool near the center of the room, a sketchpad resting on his knees. His dark hair hung just a little too long over his eyes, his usual brooding expression softened in concentration. He didn’t even notice you at first, completely absorbed in the pencil gliding across the paper. You stood there for a moment, watching him, the way the soft light hit his face, the tension in his posture, the faint frown of concentration as his hand moved with practiced ease.

It was like a moment frozen in time. 

You almost didn’t want to interrupt him. But then, just as you made a move to step forward, Sol looked up. His eyes met yours with that piercing gaze of his, dark and unreadable for a brief second. He blinked, his pencil pausing mid-air, and for a moment, you both just stared at each other.

He stood up slowly, pushing the stool back with a faint scrape of metal against the floor. His movements were deliberate, almost hesitant, as though he hadn’t quite expected you to actually show up. He stepped toward you, and you could feel the weight of his gaze settle on you like a heavy cloud.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Sol said, his voice low and slightly rough, like he had been waiting for this moment for a while. He took a few steps closer, his hands shifting awkwardly, unsure of what to do with them.

You didn’t answer right away, still trying to calm the nervous flutter in your chest. The tension between you two was thick enough to cut with a knife, but you had come here for a reason, and you weren’t going to back out now. The air felt heavy, charged, as you looked him over, taking in the dark lines of his hoodie, the way his posture made him seem almost too perfect for this setting.

“Sol…” you started, your voice almost too quiet against the stillness of the room. You cleared your throat, meeting his eyes. “We need to talk.”

His expression shifted, ever so slightly, but you could tell he understood what you meant. There was a moment of hesitation, his lips pressing together tightly, before he nodded once, slowly.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of something unreadable. “We do.”

He didn’t say anything else, just stood there for a second, letting the silence stretch out between you both. The space between you was intimate in a way that was almost suffocating, but you didn’t back away.

“I guess…” Sol started, breaking the silence with a soft chuckle, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s a good thing you came. I didn’t have anything better to do.” He paused, running a hand through his hair, his expression turning more serious. “What exactly do you want to talk about?”

You chuckled softly, the sound almost a little hollow in the heavy atmosphere of the room. The absurdity of it all hit you then—how this had escalated, how you’d been caught between two men who seemed to be competing for your attention in ways you couldn’t quite understand or even fully control.

You couldn’t help but find it almost funny, the way both Geo and Sol had turned their jealousy into some kind of twisted competition, each trying to outdo the other. It had felt like a game at first, but now? Now, it was starting to weigh on you.

"You know," you said, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as you finally broke the silence, "it’s funny. The way you and Geo both get all... jealous. Like you both think it’s some sort of competition to see who can make me crack first."

Sol’s eyes narrowed slightly, a shift in his expression that you recognized. But you weren’t done yet.

"You both get under each other’s skin so easily, and it's... honestly kind of funny watching you two try to outdo each other," you continued, leaning against the edge of a nearby desk, arms folded. "But it’s exhausting too, don’t you think? Playing these mind games."

Sol stood there, jaw tight, his hands twitching by his sides as if he were trying to hold back whatever he wanted to say. His silence only fueled your need to vent more.

"Who’s more jealous?" you muttered under your breath, the words slipping out before you could even stop them. "You? Or Geo?"

Sol’s expression didn’t shift. He was standing there, his eyes scanning you, but you could see the flicker of frustration in them. You could feel the tension rising, but you didn’t want to be here anymore—not like this. The whole situation, the constant pull between them, was overwhelming, and it wasn’t just because they were being possessive. It was because you cared about both of them in ways you didn’t know how to explain.

You paused and shook your head, dropping your arms from your chest. “You know what? I can’t do this anymore.”

Sol’s gaze softened just a fraction as you spoke, and he stepped a little closer to you, though he was still keeping a distance. “Can’t do what?” he asked, his voice quieter, less biting now.

You sighed, your mind spinning. "I don’t want to be a part of this game anymore. The whole back and forth, the jealousy. I need peace." Your voice cracked slightly, and you hated how vulnerable it made you feel. "I don’t want to be the prize in some stupid contest."

Sol’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable. There was a long, heavy pause as you stared at him, fighting the urge to turn away.

“You’re here to let me down, then?” he asked, his voice rougher now, a hint of something darker in it that sent a chill down your spine. He was looking at you like he didn’t know what to make of you anymore.

"No," you said, shaking your head quickly. "I’m not here to let you down." You took a breath, steadying yourself before continuing. "I just… I like you. I do. I like you more than I care to admit, and that’s the truth."

There. You said it. Out loud, right in front of him. You had to admit it at some point, and there was no better time than now. It felt like a weight lifted off your chest, though the air still felt thick with tension. You still cared for Geo, but when it came down to it, you realized it was Sol you were drawn to the most. His intensity, the way he never seemed to need to explain himself, the way he got under your skin without even trying—it had all tangled together in your mind in ways you couldn't ignore anymore.

Sol stared at you for a long moment, his gaze softening just slightly, but still guarded. He didn’t speak right away, and the silence between you both felt suffocating. His eyes flickered between your face and your lips as if trying to read you, understand you, but it seemed like you had caught him off guard.

"I..." he started, then paused, like he was choosing his words carefully. "You don’t know how fucked up this is," he muttered under his breath, his voice low. "I didn’t think you’d actually come here and say that."

You could feel the weight of the moment pressing in, everything hanging between the two of you. But you didn't regret it. Not really.

“I needed to say it,” you whispered, your gaze meeting his with as much certainty as you could muster. "I’m done with the games, Sol."

He took a step closer to you, his hand reaching out, but he didn’t touch you—not yet. He was still watching you, trying to figure out where you stood, and where this would go next.

Then suddenness of Sol’s movement caught you completely off guard. One moment, he was standing in front of you, his expression guarded and intense, and the next, he had you in his arms, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. Before you could react, he spun you around and slammed you against the cold surface of one of the tables in the empty art classroom. The sound of it echoed in the otherwise quiet room, but you couldn’t focus on that. 

All you could focus on was him. 

His body was pressed against yours, pinning you down, and you felt the heat radiating off him. The sharpness in his gaze was unmistakable, his red-orange eyes darker now, filled with something you couldn’t quite name but could feel in your bones—a hunger, a possessiveness. He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear, and you froze, caught in the intensity of the moment.

"Sol," you whispered, your voice shaking with a mix of uncertainty and something else, something you couldn’t quite understand.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand grabbed your wrist, holding it down on the table beside you with a strength that left no room for resistance. You could feel the pressure of his grip, the way he was keeping you in place, making sure you didn’t move. His thumb brushed lightly over your pulse, sending a chill through you as his gaze lowered to your lips.

"I’ve been waiting for this," he murmured, his voice rough, as if it were a secret he’d been dying to share. "I should’ve made you mine sooner, pumpkin. Shouldn’t have let you slip away, should’ve known you were mine from the start."

Before you could respond, before you could even process the words, his lips crashed onto yours. It was fierce, desperate, and possessive, his kiss taking control immediately. His mouth was hot, demanding, and he pulled you closer, using his hold on your wrist to keep you trapped beneath him. 

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips moved against yours, and the more you tried to breathe, the tighter he pulled you. His body felt like a weight on top of you, keeping you locked in place. You tried to pull away, to create some distance, but his grip on your wrist tightened, and he growled low in his throat, making it clear that escape was not an option. 

Sol pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes burning with an intensity that made you shiver. His breath was coming in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling as he stared down at you, his lips still slightly parted from the kiss.

"You belong to me now, pumpkin," he whispered, his voice rough with a possessive edge. His eyes never left yours, a dangerous gleam flashing in them. "I’ll make sure to keep you close. No one will ever get to you again. Not Geo, not anyone. You’re mine."

The way he said it, the way he held you down, his possessive words cutting through the air—it wasn’t just affection. It wasn’t even love. It was something darker, something terrifying, and you realized, with a growing sense of dread, that you were trapped. 

His gaze never wavered as he leaned down again, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a chill through your spine. 

"You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you never forget that."

You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. His grip on your wrist, the intensity in his eyes, and the force of his kiss had left you breathless. He wasn’t going to let you go. Not now. Not ever. And as much as you wanted to pull away, part of you realized that you didn’t know if you could.

Sol wasn’t the same as before. He wasn’t just a guy you liked. He was someone else now—a person who wanted to keep you locked away, close to him, in a way that was almost suffocating. You wanted to break free, but somehow, you knew you weren’t going anywhere. 

Not without his permission.

✑ 𝑔𝑒𝑜 

He's longer; sorry, I’m biased.

You stared at your phone for a long moment, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. You had spent the last week cooped up in your dorm, tangled in your own thoughts, unable to find peace with yourself or with them.

Sol and Geo... the constant pull between them had turned everything into a confusing mess. 

But now? You needed clarity. You needed someone who wouldn’t add more fuel to the fire, someone who would just listen without trying to one-up the other. Maybe you were kidding yourself—because this was Geo, after all. But you needed this.  

Taking a deep breath, you hovered your fingers over the screen, glancing at the missed calls again. Your pulse was racing, the anxiety of the choice settling in your chest. The last thing you wanted was to face this alone—but you also didn’t want to avoid it.  

After what felt like an eternity, you made the decision.

You called Geo.  

It rang three times before his voice answered, and you immediately felt the warmth in his tone, like he had been waiting for this call. But there was something else too, something that made you pause—a quiet concern hidden beneath his words.  

“Hey, you okay?”  

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once. You didn’t know how to explain it, so you didn’t try to. Instead, you just said what you needed to say.  

“I... I need to talk to you. Can we meet somewhere?”  

There was a pause on the other end, and for a moment, you wondered if he was thinking it over. But he didn’t push for more information. He simply agreed, his voice calm and understanding.  

“Sure. Where do you want to meet?”  

You bit your lip, a brief moment of indecision hitting you. But then it came to you. "Where you at?"  

He paused for a beat before replying, “About to start classes, but later I have archery practice.”  

“Bet,” you said, your voice steadying. “I’m coming when you have practice.”  

Before he could say anything else, you hung up. The decision felt sudden like you were just throwing yourself into the unknown, but there was a strange sense of relief mixed with it.  

Damn, that really overwhelmed you.  

You leaned back against the wall, closing your eyes for a moment. The tension that had built up over the past few days began to loosen slightly—though you weren’t fooling yourself. There was still so much left unsaid.

The afternoon passed in a blur of lectures and assignments. Your mind kept wandering to your phone, to the call you had just made to Geo. Every time you tried to focus, the weight of everything from the past few weeks came crashing down on you again, clouding your thoughts. You hated the feeling of being so torn, but there was little you could do to change it now.  

After your last class, you quickly went to the campus snack shop. You grabbed a bag of chips and a couple of candy bars, trying to grab a bit of comfort before meeting up with Sol and Hyugo for lunch. The campus was busy with students, the energy of their conversations filling the air, but you felt strangely detached from it all.  

You reached the stairs leading to the roof, where you were supposed to meet them. The familiar sight of the door at the top of the stairs felt almost comforting, like a safe haven. But when you pushed the door open and stepped onto the roof, you only saw Sol.  

You paused, momentarily confused. 

The quiet hum of the city outside the campus walls mixed with the soft sound of wind brushing against the roof, creating a peaceful atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the chaotic thoughts swirling in your mind.

But Sol?

He was there, leaning against the railing, his eyes fixed on the horizon. His usual sharp, confident demeanor softened in the warm sunlight, and there was a rare stillness about him, something you didn’t often get to see.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, but you quickly shook it off, determined not to let yourself be distracted. You needed to focus, to stay grounded, even though everything felt like it was slipping away.

“Hey,” you called out, your voice cutting through the quiet air.

Sol turned to face you, his eyes scanning you for a moment, his gaze lingering longer than usual. You noticed the faint shadows beneath his eyes, signs of something deeper—a weariness that didn't quite match his usual carefree attitude. He straightened up slowly, a smirk forming at the corner of his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar teasing edge, but something about it felt off.  

You rolled your eyes, pulling out the snacks you’d bought and handing him a bag of chips before grabbing one for yourself. “I bought lunch. Where’s Hyugo?” you asked, looking around, expecting to see him somewhere nearby.

Sol’s smirk faltered, and he shifted his weight slightly, eyes briefly flicking away as if he were debating whether to say something. “He’s upset at me,” Sol said, his tone flat, almost defensive.

You blinked, caught off guard by the admission. “What? Why?”

Sol didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he leaned back against the railing, his eyes studying you for a moment as if he was weighing how much he wanted to reveal. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, but there was an edge to his voice now, something that made it clear there was more to the story.

You stared at him, wondering if you should press further, but before you could, Sol asked, “Are you meeting up with Geo today?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated. 

The look in his eyes was tried, searching. It was as if he already knew the answer, but he was waiting for you to say it. You felt a wave of unease wash over you. Should you lie? Should you be truthful? You knew that whatever you said, Sol would read through it, and yet, you didn’t want to push him further.

You swallowed, unsure how to respond. Finally, you gave a small, uncertain nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes,” you said, almost as though you were answering a question you hadn't been ready to face.

The silence hung heavy between you and Sol, the wind carrying a cool edge that seemed to make everything feel even colder. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t even flinched as you shifted uneasily beside him, and when he spoke again, his voice was more urgent than before, more desperate.

“Don’t meet with him,” Sol said, his tone low but intense, like a warning. He was staring straight ahead, hands gripping the railing a little too tightly. 

“He is from that rich society that happened to be kicked out of, and you know what that means. You don’t belong in that world. It’s all fake, all about status and image. Why do you want to be with someone like that? Someone who looks at everything like it’s just a game for him?” His voice was laced with bitterness, the words tumbling out in a stream of disapproval, each one landing with a weight that made you feel suffocated.

You could feel his words digging into you, his frustration and anger clear, as though he had been holding this in for too long. The more he spoke, the more you could hear the layers of jealousy and resentment hidden beneath the surface.

“Why are you even considering him?” Sol went on, his eyes now locked on you, sharp and accusing. “You think he’s different, but trust me, he’s not. He’s nothing but a walking reflection of everything that’s wrong with that world. You’re just another thing to him, a new toy to play with before he gets bored. And you—” Sol paused, his voice dipping, almost as if he was struggling to keep control of his emotions, “You’re smarter than that. You deserve better than to be some rich boy’s little distraction.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, the frustration boiling inside you. You had been hearing this for days, and it was starting to feel like a broken record. His words kept echoing in your head, over and over, but with each passing second, it became harder to listen. 

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Are you good?” You finally blurted out, your voice sharp with irritation, cutting through his tirade. “Are you seriously obsessed with me or something?” The words left your mouth before you could stop them, the question hanging in the air between you two like a live wire.

Sol’s expression faltered for just a moment, his eyes flashing with something unreadable, something that was maybe a little too close to the truth. But then, without warning, his face hardened again, the smirk returning to his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Sol muttered, more to himself than to you, turning his attention back to the skyline. His posture became stiff again, his shoulders drawn tight like he was bracing for something.

“You’re better off without him. Trust me on this.”

You felt your chest tighten as his words hung in the air, the tension between you thickening. A part of you was almost shocked that he’d go this far, but at the same time, you could sense that this wasn’t the first time he’d crossed a line like this.

His possessiveness, his obsession, it was always there, lurking just beneath the surface. 

You could feel it now, the weight of it pressing down on you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the anger and frustration bubbled to the surface. "You're worthless," you spat out, the words sharp, like a knife cutting through the silence. "I don’t know what the hell you think this is, but I’m not yours. I’ll never be yours." Your voice trembled slightly, not from fear but from the sheer overwhelming weight of your emotions.

For a moment, Sol didn’t react. He just stood there, his back turned to you, staring off into the distance, the wind tousling his hair. But you could feel the shift in the air, the subtle way the space between you seemed to shrink like he was about to snap.

And then he turned to face you, his eyes darker than before, something almost predatory in his gaze. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you, his hand reaching out to gently, but firmly, take hold of your wrist. “Don’t say that,” he whispered, his voice low and almost dangerous, the words leaving a chill in the air. 

“You’re mine, Pumpkin. You just don’t know it yet.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. For a split second, you almost felt like you were suffocating, caught in the intensity of his gaze and the suffocating grip he had on your wrist. A part of you wanted to pull away, to fight, but another part of you—perhaps the one that was tired, exhausted from all the confusion and the constant pull between him and Geo—just wanted to be left alone.

But Sol wasn’t going to let you go that easily.

“I told you not to see him.” His voice was soft, but the underlying threat was unmistakable. “You belong with me. You know that, don’t you? You feel it, too. You can’t deny it, not with how you look at me.”

The words burned through you, and despite everything, you felt a sick sense of dread settle in your stomach. “Stop,” you said, your voice trembling, trying to pull away from him. “You’re insane. You don’t own me. I’m not your fucking possession.”

Sol didn’t let go. His grip tightened just enough to make you wince, but there was something else in his eyes now—something dark, something that made your pulse race in a way you didn’t want it to. 

“You think I’m crazy?” he asked, his lips curling into a twisted smirk. “You have no idea, do you? I’d burn the world down just to keep you. And you want to play these games with him?” He stepped back for a moment as if letting the words sink in. 

“I thought I was so lucky you gave me a chance.”

There was a moment of silence, the weight of his words hanging between you, before he suddenly broke the fourth wall, his voice shifting slightly as if addressing something outside the moment, outside of reality itself.

“You think you can just walk away from this?” Sol’s voice was sharper now, more knowing, as if speaking directly to the reader, to the reality that existed beyond the world you were in. “Do you think you can make decisions like this without consequences? Without me getting involved?” His eyes gleamed with something unsettling. 

“You can’t run from me, not anymore.”

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as if it might burst from the pressure building inside. The world around you seemed to warp and distort, the edges of reality blurring. 

You were lost—completely and utterly lost. 

You’d thought you understood what was happening, but now, with Sol so close, his words so charged with something dark and desperate, it was all unraveling in a way you couldn’t make sense of.

The way he looked at you, the way he gripped your wrist like it was his lifeline, it was suffocating. His gaze held something twisted, an obsession that felt too intense, too real. You’d always known there was something about Sol—something dangerous, something that made your stomach tighten with unease. But now it was clear. This wasn’t just a simple crush or playful teasing. This wasn’t just a guy who wanted to be close.

No. Sol was obsessed.

And it scared you.

You tried to pull your wrist free, but his grip was unyielding. The words on your lips were desperate, but they felt so small against the weight of his presence. “This isn’t right,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

Sol didn’t respond immediately. He only stared at you, his eyes darkening, as if weighing your every word, your every movement. “You don’t get it, do you?” His voice was low, but there was an edge to it. “I need you. You can run from me, but I’ll always find you. I’ll always make you see.”

The words Sol had thrown at you hung in the air, thick and suffocating, making it hard to breathe. You felt paralyzed, trapped by the weight of his obsession and the raw, unhinged look in his eyes. 

Was this really happening? 

Was this the mess you’d walked into, too blind to see the signs before?

Your thoughts spiraled, emotions crashing together like a storm you couldn’t outrun. But before you could sort anything out, the air shifted. The tension in the room grew thicker, a new presence making itself known.

Geo.

He appeared in the doorway, his posture rigid, like he was ready to explode at any second. But it was his eyes that caught your attention, locking onto Sol with a cold, seething intensity that matched the storm brewing between them.

“You’re really fucking crazy, huh?” Geo’s voice was sharp, his words cutting through the charged silence. His gaze never left Sol, as if daring him to say something back.

You tried to back away, finally pulling your wrist free from Sol’s grasp, but your legs were weak, your body trembling with the adrenaline coursing through you. You couldn’t think straight. You needed space; you needed air. But there was no time to escape. Because Sol’s gaze never wavered, and Geo’s words had already ignited something in him.

“Stay the fuck out of this,” Sol growled, his voice low and dangerous. There was a flash of something—rage, maybe—crossing his features, and you knew in that instant that things were about to escalate. 

“You don’t get to come in here and play the hero.”

Geo didn’t flinch. If anything, he seemed even more determined. “You’ve already crossed every line, Sol. Back off.”His voice was calm, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed the storm raging underneath. “I won’t let you fuck with them any longer. Not like this.”

And just like that, it was like the dam had broken.

Sol lunged first, moving quickly, too quickly for you to process. He slammed into Geo with all his weight, pushing him against the nearby wall, and you couldn’t help but flinch at the sound of their bodies colliding. Geo’s arm shot out, blocking the punch that Sol aimed for his face, and for a moment, they were locked in a brutal, silent struggle.

“Get the fuck off me,” Geo spat, trying to shove Sol away, but Sol was relentless, throwing punches with a viciousness that you didn’t know he had in him. The room felt like it was closing in around you, the sounds of their fight echoing in your ears as you stumbled backward, not sure whether to intervene or to run.

But you couldn’t move. Not now.

Sol was stronger than Geo in this moment, using the element of surprise and his sheer intensity to overpower him. Geo grunted as Sol’s fist connected with his ribs, but Geo wasn’t backing down either. He fought back with the same brutal force, each strike punctuated by curses and gritted teeth.

“You think you can just take them from me?” Sol snarled, his words slurring with anger. “I told you, they’re mine. I don’t care what you think, you don’t deserve them.”

“You don’t own them, Emo!” Geo shouted, his voice breaking with frustration. “Stop acting like you have some fucking right to control them. They’re their own person. You’re the one who needs to back the hell off.”

Geo’s fists collided with Sol with a brutal force that made your stomach churn. You watched in stunned silence as Geo moved with precision and anger, his strikes landing one after another. 

Sol, once so confident, was now crumpled on the floor, his face swollen and bruising almost immediately. A deep purple and blue marred his features, his lip split and his cheek reddened from the force of the blows. He tried to get up, and retaliate, but Geo’s rage was unstoppable. Sol was no match for him now, not when the fury in Geo’s eyes burned like a wildfire.

Geo didn’t even give him a moment to breathe. With each punch, the sound of their struggle echoed throughout the room. And when it was finally over, when Sol lay crumpled on the ground, barely able to move, Geo stood over him, chest heaving with the exertion of the fight. His fists were bloodied, but his gaze never wavered from Sol, whose body remained limp on the floor, groaning in pain.

Geo didn’t seem to care.

After a long, tense pause, Geo finally backed away, his hands shaking but his expression cold and controlled. He didn’t say a word, just took one last look at Sol—who was too beaten to even raise his head—and turned toward the door. He walked out with a calmness that betrayed the chaos that had just unfolded. 

The fight had been fast, efficient, and brutal, and now it was over.

You stood there, frozen, trying to process the madness of the situation. The intensity of everything—Geo’s rage, Sol’s obsession, the violence—made your head spin. None of this was supposed to happen. This wasn’t the outcome you imagined when you first started this twisted game. 

You just wanted to see how far it would go, how much each of them would fight for your attention, for your love, for whatever the hell it was they were after. 

You had no idea it would spiral into this.

Now, you were sitting in a private room at the police station, the air thick with tension. The officers sat across from you and Geo, their eyes focused on the both of you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. Your mouth felt dry, your thoughts a jumbled mess. 

You didn’t know how to explain what had happened, how it all went wrong. It was too much. 

Too fast. 

You didn’t have the words.

The room was silent except for the low hum of fluorescent lights above, the officers waiting for some kind of answer, some kind of explanation. But you couldn’t give them that. You couldn’t even explain it to yourself. Your mind was racing, trying to make sense of everything. 

The fact that it all started with some stupid game—a game to see which of the two would get jealous first—felt utterly ridiculous now. It was supposed to be harmless. You didn’t think it would turn into something this twisted.

But here you were, sitting next to Geo, whose face was unreadable. His expression was as cold and detached as ever, but you could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him, too. His knuckles were bruised, his chest rising and fell with each deep breath. He didn’t regret what he’d done, and part of you couldn’t blame him. 

Sol had crossed too many lines. 

But it didn’t make it any easier to process.

You shifted in your seat, avoiding the officers' eyes, your mind spiraling out of control. You wanted to say something, wanted to explain it all, but the words wouldn’t come. 

Everything felt so... out of place. 

The fight between Geo and Sol had been violent and unnecessary, yet somehow, it felt inevitable. 

This was what it had come to. 

You had pushed it, tested the boundaries, and now the damage was done.

The officers exchanged glances, their patience wearing thin. They had to know something, but you didn’t have the answers they were looking for. How could you? You didn’t know why things had gotten so out of hand. You didn’t know why Geo had beaten Sol like that, or why Sol had become so obsessed with you in the first place.

“Please,” one of the officers finally spoke, his voice gentle but firm. “Can you tell us what happened here? What led up to this?”

You hated how weak you felt, how lost. You couldn’t explain it. You couldn’t even explain to yourself how you had allowed this to happen. You had set everything in motion, but now it was spiraling beyond your control. The moment you’d let your curiosity get the better of you—this was the result.

You just shook your head, the overwhelming sense of regret and guilt crushing you. You didn’t have the answers. 

And even if you did, they wouldn’t make this any easier to process.

Geo’s eyes remained fixed on you, his usual cold demeanor softened by something you couldn't quite place. It wasn’t pity—at least, not the kind of pity that made you feel small—but it was something else. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t frustrated. 

He was just... there.

When the officers started to ask more questions, Geo spoke up, his voice surprisingly calm as he interjected. "It's probably best if I take them back to their place. They need some space to clear their head. Once they’re ready, they’ll call you." His tone didn’t leave room for debate, his usual sharpness replaced by something quieter, more protective. 

"They don’t need to talk right now."

The officers exchanged a look, but they didn’t argue. They nodded, acknowledging Geo’s request, and you could hear the soft scrape of the chair as one of them stood up. As you left the station, the weight of everything that had happened crashed down on you like a flood. It was all too much.

You didn’t speak on the way back to your dorm. The car ride was silent except for the faint hum of the engine, and every minute felt like it stretched on forever. You didn’t know what to say to Geo, didn’t know what to say to yourself.

You were lost—dazed, even. What had you done? What had they done? 

Everything had spiraled so far out of control that you couldn’t even find the starting point anymore.

When the car finally pulled up to your building, you didn’t even wait for Geo to open the door. You got out quickly, the silence between you both louder than anything. You didn’t even feel like you had the energy to say goodbye. You just wanted to retreat, to disappear.

You made your way up to your studio apartment, the familiar surroundings almost too much. The kitchen passed in a blur as you shuffled into your small, cramped living space. You threw your bag on the floor with a dull thud before collapsing face-first onto your bed. You didn’t even bother pulling the covers over you. You just lay there, unmoving.

eo stood in the doorway, watching you. The door clicked shut behind him, but he didn’t approach. He knew better than that. There was something almost resigned in the way he stood, his hands in his pockets as he regarded you.

"I ordered food for you," he said, his voice quiet, almost a whisper, like he didn’t want to disturb the fragile silence that had settled between you. "You don’t have to leave. If you’re scared, you don’t need to go anywhere."

You didn’t respond. 

The weight of everything felt like it was suffocating you, and you didn’t have the words to explain it—not to him, not to anyone. You felt stuck like the ground beneath you had turned to quicksand. The guilt gnawed at you, but the numbness in your chest was worse. You wanted to feel something—anything—but all you could muster was a hollow emptiness that made your heartache.

You heard Geo’s quiet footsteps echo in the room as he carefully took off his shoes and placed them by the door. It was such a small thing, but the gesture felt oddly intimate like he was respecting some unspoken boundary. 

He stood there for a moment, looking at you, before he made his way over to the edge of your bed. You watched him, feeling a strange mix of relief and discomfort, as he knelt in front of you, his back straight and his posture solid.

You clutched the pillow tighter, a weak shield against the confusion that was swirling inside your head. You didn’t know what you needed right now. You didn’t know if you wanted him to say something, or if you just needed the silence. You wanted so badly to scream at the chaos in your life, but the exhaustion had drained all the energy from your body.

Geo glanced down at your bed, then back at you, a slight frown pulling at his features. “I don’t want to sit on your bed,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “I’ve been outside. You shouldn’t be either.”

Suddenly, the absurdity of the situation hit you.

The idea of Geo being so considerate after everything that had happened between you two made something inside you crack. You let out a small laugh, a soft chuckle that bubbled up from nowhere as the tension in your chest finally found a way to escape. 

Geo froze, his brow furrowing in surprise as he processed the sound. “What...?” His voice trailed off, confused. He hadn’t expected it, clearly.

You shook your head, trying to stifle another laugh. “It’s just... you’re so serious sometimes,” you muttered, shaking your head again, trying to collect yourself. “Like, we’re in the middle of all this... shit, and you’re worried about sitting on my bed? It’s just funny.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, the question heavy with something more than just casual curiosity. He wasn’t asking to pry—he was asking. After all, he cared because he wanted to know if you were all right, even though everything around you was in pieces.

You hesitated, your chest tightening as you tried to push past the numbness, to find the words that would make sense of the chaos inside you. It wasn’t easy. You felt like you were wading through a thick fog, unable to see the shore, unable to find your way out.

You didn’t know what to say. 

You didn’t even know what you wanted anymore.

“I don’t know anymore,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as the weight of everything hit you all at once. 

Geo sighed, and he stayed where he was, kneeling in front of you. He just watched you, waiting for you to find the words, letting you process everything at your own pace. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, but somehow it was comforting. 

You exhaled sharply, leaning back against the bed, clutching the pillow in your arms like it could somehow anchor you to the present. You felt the weight of the words building up inside you, a flood of confession that had been lying dormant, ready to pour out, and it was as if you couldn't hold it back anymore.

“I don’t know when it all got so messy," you began, your voice unsteady, the words tumbling out in a rush like you were trying to explain something to yourself as much as to him. “It all started because… I wanted to see who was more jealous, you or Sol. It was stupid, I know. I thought I could handle it, keep it all under control. I thought I could play this game and walk away without getting caught up in it.”

You paused for a second, feeling your pulse quicken as you tried to make sense of everything, but the more you spoke, the harder it became to breathe. The confession felt like it was suffocating you, but you couldn’t stop.

“You know how it is. Just a stupid game. I thought I could just sit back, watch the both of you get all worked up, and have a laugh. But it... It didn’t go the way I expected. I didn’t expect to care. Not about him—not about Sol, I mean. And sure as hell not about you.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head as you glanced at Geo, unsure of what exactly you were trying to say. But the confusion, the mess in your head, only seemed to spill out more the longer you spoke.

"I was trying to keep control. You know, like always. But the more I played this game—god, the more it twisted everything around. I started getting feelings. First, it was just... Sol, and I thought I could push it aside. But then... it was you."

You stopped, your voice faltering. “I didn’t think I could get feelings for you, not after everything. You’ve got your own shit going on, and so do I, but here I am. And I’m not sure who’s worse. Me, for getting this deep, or you for dealing with me through all of it.”

Geo didn’t interrupt, though you could see the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers curled into a fist for just a moment before he relaxed them. His eyes were on you, unwavering, and it only made the confession feel like it was digging a hole deeper inside your chest.

"You can judge me for it. I don’t blame you if you do." The words came out bitter, almost accusing, like you were daring him to reject you, to call you out for being weak. "I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Geo. I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to feel. This whole thing was supposed to be a game, a stupid little test to see who cared more, but here I am—lost. And I don’t know how to fix it."

Your throat felt tight as you swallowed down the question clawing its way up. But eventually, the words spilled out before you could stop them.  

“Do you… do you hate me?”  

For a moment, there was only silence. Thick. Heavy. Unforgiving.  

You didn’t look at him—couldn’t. You were too afraid of what you’d see in his face. Fear? Disgust? Or something worse?  

Geo didn’t answer right away. Instead, his gaze flickered away, shifting toward the floor, his jaw tightening just enough for you to notice. He wasn’t one to hesitate, wasn’t one to falter, and yet, here he was—pausing.  

The silence stretched, each second pulling at your nerves like frayed threads.  

Then, finally, he exhaled, slow and measured, before looking back at you. His expression wasn’t cold, but there was something guarded about it, something that made your chest ache.  

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he admitted, voice quieter than before. “If you’re asking whether I’m pissed? Yeah. If you’re asking if I regret meeting you? No.��  

Your breath caught, hands gripping the fabric of your blanket a little tighter.  

“But hating you?” He shook his head, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I couldn’t even if I tried.”  

Something in you wavered.  

He shifted beside you again, the weight of his presence steady, grounding. And despite everything—the chaos, the mistakes, the games you played—you found yourself leaning just a little closer.  

Your lips parted, the question forming before you could stop it. “Then...”  

He hummed, his gaze steady on you.  

“Do you… like me?” The words left your mouth before you could second-guess them, before you could convince yourself to let it go. You already felt exposed enough, but if you were drowning, you weren’t going to do it alone.  

Geo didn’t flinch, but you saw the way his jaw tensed ever so slightly. That careful mask of his wavered just for a fraction of a second. Then, like clockwork, he slightly smirked—shocking…

“I like a lot of things,” he said smoothly, stretching his arms above his head, his voice full of deflection. “My time. Plants...”  

You narrowed your eyes, not amused. “Geo.”  

He sighed through his nose, gaze flicking away for a brief moment before locking back onto you. “And maybe you talk too much.”  

You let out a sharp breath, shaking your head. “That’s not an answer.”  

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”  

You stared at him, frustration bubbling beneath your skin. He was doing this on purpose, keeping things just vague enough to avoid saying anything real. You wanted to pry it out of him, force him to admit it, but at the same time…  

Geo wasn’t the kind of person you could force anything out of. He’d say what he wanted when he wanted. That was just who he was.  

You let out a sigh, something between acceptance and resignation. “Fine. Be stubborn.” You turned your body slightly, facing him fully. “But I don’t need to hear it. I already know.”  

Then, before he could react, you jumped forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, and pulling him close in a tight embrace. Geo stiffened for a moment, caught off guard, but he didn’t push you away. Instead, you felt his arms slowly wrap around your waist, holding you steady, his warmth grounding you in ways you hadn’t expected.  

Then, before you could stop yourself, you kissed him.  

It was quick at first, just a light brush of your lips against his, testing the waters. But the second you felt him respond, his lips pressing against yours just as gently, something inside you caved.  

The kiss deepened, slow and careful, neither of you rushing, just feeling. His hands stayed light on your waist, not pulling, not taking—just holding. Like he was afraid of breaking the moment, of breaking you.  

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him closer. Geo’s breath hitched slightly before he tilted his head, his lips moving against yours with more certainty now, but never rough, never greedy.  

It was nothing like the game you had been playing before—nothing like what had happened with Sol. This wasn’t about control, about jealousy, about winning. 

It was just real.  

You pulled away first, your forehead resting against his, your breathing slightly uneven. Geo’s hands were still resting on your waist, his thumbs absently brushing against the fabric of your shirt.  

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the room feeling quieter than it had before.  

Then, suddenly, Geo pulled back, reaching into his pocket and checking his phone. He sighed dramatically. “Well, that was good timing.”  

You blinked, still dazed. “What?”  

He held up his phone, showing you the screen. “Food’s here.”  

You let out a surprised laugh, shaking your head. “Are you serious?”  

“Dead serious.” He stood up, stretching before glancing down at you. “Unless you wanna keep making out and let the delivery guy starve outside.”  

You rolled your eyes, a small smile pulling at your lips despite everything. “Go get the damn food, Geo.”  

He gave you one last look—something soft, unreadable—before turning toward the door. And even as he left, you could still feel the ghost of his lips on yours, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin.  

For once, you weren’t overthinking; he's yours.

[revelboo]

Sorry if I already sent you that question, my WiFi sucks.

Hiii, how are you? I wanted to know if there are any updates on TFA Shockwave or maybe TFP Shockwave? I really love your writing and have almost read all your fics.

He is overdue…

Point Of Extinction Pt 16

TFP Shockwave x Reader

• You’re not sure what you expected, but for him to be more unsettling definitely wasn’t it. Had honestly thought that giving in might mellow him out, instead of whatever this is. Just staring at you, antenna back watching you try to clean yourself up with a damp rag. Still not sure what to make of his conviction to take care of you, including sexually. Though making the huge mech whine while you rode him? Apparently you have a thing for that. Flustered you glance at him and he’s still staring. “Thirteen’s body temperature is elevated,” he says, head tipping. Not about to admit that you get a little kick from dominating him or that you’re thinking about sex. Again.

• “Is it?” You mutter, rinsing the cloth he’d given you after you’d asked and then sliding it between your thighs. Cleaning away his release and it bothers him. Rumbling softly, he reaches to carefully catch your wrist, momentarily unsettled by how small your arm is in his grip. Aware that he could break you without meaning to. “What?” That you’re helpless to stop him. And that shivery sensation that can’t be fear slips through him, remembering being helpless.

• Servos curled loosely around your wrist, he’s just staring at his hand on you. Rocking forward slightly as his antenna flick. Absolutely not, he’s not having one of his moments with his big hands on you. Heart racing, you go up on tip toe. Can’t reach his face even with him mass displaced he’s so big, but you pat against his chassis until his optic brightens and he looks at you. Actually seeing you before his attention dips to the apex of your thighs. “My nanites are only effective if they remain inside,” he growls, reaching out with his free hand to cup you. And your brain blanks. Nanites?

• Pressing a servo inside you to keep you from washing away all of his release, you squirm. “I’m sorry. What?” You ask and he hooks an arm around you, cradling you against his chassis, his palm firmly between your thighs. Can always replenish his nanites, give you more, and that’s an unexpectedly desirable thought. “What nanites?” Can fill you again and stay inside you to make sure his release stays where it should be this time. Give his nanites time to work.

• Ignoring your question, he just makes a rough rumbling engine sound suspiciously like a purr. And you’re not letting this go, nanites sounds like weird sci-fi stuff and that crap goes right over your head. “How soon until you are amenable to being pleasured again?” Such a sweet talker, nose wrinkling at him as the servos of the hand cupping you to make sure you don’t wipe away anymore of his alien slick stroke you, you can’t let him distract you with sex, not when you have questions and he’s going to answer them. And that servo inside you is petting, coaxing your tired body despite your resolve and the fact that you’re still sore. Still slick with the last rounds. “I wish to pleasure you now.”

Previous

[mads-hemmo]

imagine you sent in a bedroom for one of schlatts bedroom videos and schlatt is quite literally cheesing because you’re his girlfriend and he knows exactly what your room looks like

Masterlist

You have watched your boyfriend react to his viewer’s room tour multiple times now. When he announced that he was going to be reacting to rooms again, you decided to submit a tour of your own. You even messaged his mods to make sure your room made it in.

You watch Schlatt’s stream from your couch, anxiously awaiting for your room to come onto the stream. “Okay this one is from (Y/N),” Schlatt says. You can see him do a slight double take when he reads your name off. He lets it go as he presses play.

“Hello Jschlatt. Let me show you my room,” your pre-recorded voice says. The chat is going crazy saying, “woman” as the video plays. You’re not showing your face, but Schlatt obviously knows it’s you by your voice.

“Calm down chat. Yes, it's a woman. Let’s see their room,” Schlatt says to the chat.

You turn to your bookshelf full of books. “Here are all my books because I’m a nerd and very intelligent.”

“Don’t look up any of those books, chat. You may be scarred.”

You laugh at the screen. Schlatt knows your taste in literature is romance with some smut sprinkled in. “Here are my rammies, youtooz, and gamer supps.” You show your small Schlatt shrine which makes you look like a parasocial weirdo, but Schlatt is just smiling the entire time. “This is my gaming setup.”

“Wow, it's very pink. Are we sure this isn’t some vtuber?” Schlatt comments.

You continue to show your room which shows blurred pictures. “These are of my boyfriend and I, but we are very private. He does not like people to see his face. He’s very insecure.”

Schlatt subtly rolls his eyes and smiles at his screen. “She is smart. Protecting her privacy. I’m sure her boyfriend is very hot and not insecure,” Schlatt comments. Chat is going crazy sending question marks and gay emotes.

“This is where all the magic happens,” you joke as you show your bed.

Schlatt lets out a small laugh at your comment. The truth is most of the “magic” happens on his bed not yours. He also has small heart eyes when he sees the Rammie you sleep with when you aren’t together. “I know it’s small and boring, but that’s my room. You have made my day by watching this. Thank you Schlatt! I’m a huge fan,” you say, ending the video.

“What a weirdo. Mods, who let that one get by?” Schlatt asks with a stupid grin still plastered on his face. Some of chat seems to get the hint about who’s bedroom it is, but others are completely oblivious.

Schlatt keeps going, showing a disgusting hellhole with street signs. A little while after, Schlatt ends the stream. As soon as the stream ends, you see that you are getting a FaceTime call from him.

“That damn girl was obsessed with you,” you comment with a laugh. “Maybe I should be jealous.”

“Yeah she’s a weirdo. Can’t believe my mods let her through,” he laughs with you.

“She may have sent some messages encouraging them to let her room through so she could see how flustered her boyfriend gets.”

Schlatt rolls his eyes at you. “Thank you for blurring everything.”

“I may like messing with you, but I’m not evil. I still want our relationship to be for us, not your fans.”

He smiles at you. “I love you,” he says with a wide grin on his face. “Also the cats miss you. They think you should come over and stay the night.”

“Only the cats miss me?” You ask with an eyebrow raise.

“Maybe I miss you too.”

“Hmm if that’s the case, I guess I can come by.” Once you hang up the phone, you drive to his apartment so you don’t have to spend the night cuddling your Rammie.

A/N: such a cute idea!! I need him to stream again! I am almost through all of my reqs, so send more if you want to! Hoping to keep writing while I’m on break!

[loveln4]

PART 1 , PART 2

LANDO NORRIS x GIRLFRIEND!READER

You will love me until you resent me

- gracie abrams, I know it won’t work.

warnings: unhealthy relationship (lying, ignoring, etc), cursing, violence??, sexual tension question mark??

synopsis: Lando’s caught in a scandal and has to prove to his significant other that it didn’t mean anything, will she listen?

“Get the fuck up.” Y/n shook Lando’s sleeping body, “Fucking— Get up, Lando!”

“What do you want!” He groans and shields his eyes from the light coming from the uncovered windows, “I need sleep—what’s wrong?” His annoyance slowly shifted to worry. Y/n was crying, like she was obviously gasping for air crying. Lando’s worry turned into defence as he had realised that she was no longer sad, or not showing it at least.

“I told you, you should’ve stayed in.” She whispered harshly as she brought her phone up to his face, “What the fuck?” Her voice broke slightly.

The image woke him up entirely, events from last night rushing back to his mind, “Y/n, it didn’t mean anything.”

“Fuck you.” She pushed him down as he started to get up.

“No—I swear, I was drunk.” He grabbed her forearms as she batted him with blunt hits, “Enough!”

They both stilled and a single tear fell from y/n’s eye, “You’ve been so ignorant, is this why?”

He shook his head, “I don’t know who she is.”

“Your Instagram following list begs to differ.”

“Shit…”

Y/n pulls away from Lando’s tight grip, clambering off the bed and out of the bedroom into the recently cleaned kitchen. “Where are my keys?” She asks herself way too caught up in her head to be embarrassed by the conversation she’s having with no one but herself. Lando’s now standing in the middle of the empty space dividing the kitchen and dining table.

“Let’s talk about this, okay?” He goes towards her but stops as he notices her glare from across the island table. “I had too many drinks!”

She scoffs, her arms folding against her chest, “That doesn’t make you any less of a cheater.” Y/n rushes off past him and back into the bedroom, looking through her bedside table, “What the fuck, where is this bitch?” It seemed her keys had gone missing.

“Baby, please.” He went up behind her, turned her around and pinned her on the bed, “I want to talk with you.”

“Get the fuck off me.”

“No.”

“Get off!” She had shouted. This shouting turned into three minutes of constant screaming.

How did Lando bare it? Who the fuck knows.

Gasping for air she finally calms, her body was once tense but is now gently relaxing, allowing her body to be pushed down by Lando. “If you were over me, you should’ve just said so.”

“I’m not over you.” He whispered sadly.

“You are, stop lying to yourself. You’ve lied enough.” She closed her eyes and regulated her breathing, opening them once more, meeting Lando’s. “Lando, you have ghosted me three times this month, stood me up last week at dinner even though you knew how exhausted I was that day and have been ignoring my presence in the paddock.”

“I— I haven’t, stop saying this.” His voice breaks, eyes tearing up. “I didn’t mean to…I didn’t…” He could tell she was getting over his repetitive defences and let go of her, turning to his right so he could lay on his back beside her.

Her breath shudders and she sniffs, “This isn’t healthy.” She sighs, “You can’t deny what I saw in that photo, I mean…photos.”

“There’s more than one?”

“Each one gets worst.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” They lay there in silence waiting for each other to break it, to say something about their relationship. Where would they end up by the end of the day?

Y/n sat up, maybe a little too quickly as her vision started to get spotty. Lando following this action but staying seated on the bed. “I fear you loved me too much at the beginning and started to get bored…” She whispered to him, “I love you…I do, but i can’t be with someone who won’t give me the time of day.” She’s knelt down looking up at him.

Lando begins to cry in his hands, not saying a word to her.

“I’ll be back for my stuff in an hour or two, make sure not to be here when I am.”

She got up and left the apartment not caring that she had no transportation. She just needed to get out.

A/N: right sorry… i don’t know what’s overcome me wtf.

send through your requests for any driver 🩷

[slutoru1207]

Viltrumite!Mark Grayson x Reader HC — Taken to Viltrum

Fiercely Possessive, Utterly Devoted, and Unwilling to Let You Go

You’re his and he won’t let you go. Mark didn’t ask you if you wanted to come to Viltrum. He decided. He’s stronger, faster, and he knows what’s best for you—even if you don’t understand it yet. Earth is weak. Humanity is fragile. But you? You’re his, and he refuses to leave you behind.

He carries you like you’re the most precious thing in existence. Even with his strength, even in the brutal landscape of Viltrum, Mark holds you carefully. His touch is firm but never rough with you. You’re the one thing in this universe that he refuses to harm, the one person who matters. Even when surrounded by warriors, his hands never stray far from you—on your waist, gripping your wrist, a protective arm slung around you.

The other Viltrumites don’t understand his obsession. Love isn’t a concept Viltrumites prioritize. Mates are chosen for strength, for genetics, for survival. But Mark? He looks at you like you’re the only thing in the universe. His loyalty isn’t to Viltrum—it’s to you. And that confuses the others.

If anyone dares question your place beside him, they don’t question it twice. Another Viltrumite—strong, calculating—makes a comment about how Mark is “wasting his potential” being so focused on you. Mark doesn’t even hesitate. He moves so fast you barely see it happen—one second the other warrior is speaking, the next they’re on the ground, groaning, blood dripping from their mouth. Mark wipes his hands, unfazed. “Anyone else?” Silence.

You’re the only soft thing in his world. Viltrum is harsh—constant training, war, strategy. Mark has become harder, colder. But with you? That fades. He touches you with reverence, whispers your name like a prayer when you’re alone. You see the side of him that no one else does—the part of him that wants to be gentle, that wants to love, even in a place that doesn’t value it.

He’ll never let you feel unsafe. You don’t belong here, not really. You’re not like the others. But Mark makes sure you never feel like an outsider. If someone so much as looks at you wrong, his fingers tighten around yours, and his grip alone is enough of a warning: They won’t hurt you. They wouldn’t dare.

He still calls you by your name like you’re his home. No matter how far from Earth you are, no matter how much blood is on his hands, the way Mark says your name is still full of warmth. You are his home. Not Viltrum, not the empire—you.

He won’t force you to love Viltrum, but he will make sure you love him. He knows this world is brutal. He knows you might hate it, might resent him for bringing you here. But one thing is non-negotiable: You will love him. He refuses to let you drift away, refuses to let you think for one second that you’re alone. You are his, and he’ll remind you of that every time he kisses you, every time he pulls you close, every time he whispers against your ear, “I told you—I’m never letting you go.”

He still brings you things from Earth. No matter how far from home you are, Mark refuses to let you forget where you came from. Every time he visits Earth—whether for a mission or something more personal—he brings you back something. A book. Your favorite snack. A hoodie that still smells like Earth. If he sees something that reminds him of you, it’s yours.

He brings you roses, even though Viltrumites don’t get it. One day, he comes back from a mission with a handful of slightly-crushed roses. He holds them out like it’s normal, like it isn’t strange to see a hardened Viltrumite warrior carrying delicate flowers. “I know you used to like these,” he mumbles, averting his gaze like he’s embarrassed. The other Viltrumites don’t understand why he’d waste time on something so trivial—but Mark doesn’t care.

He still tries to cook for you—even if he’s terrible at it. Viltrumites don’t need to cook. They eat for survival, not for pleasure. But he remembers that food mattered to you on Earth, so one night, he actually tries. The result? A disaster. He burns something, something else is questionable, and when you take a bite, he’s watching you way too closely. “...Is it bad?” he asks, jaw tight. You smile, trying not to gag. “It’s… thoughtful.”

He lets you paint his nails (once). It starts as a joke. You mention how human couples do silly things together, and somehow, that turns into him letting you paint his nails—black, obviously. He grumbles the whole time but doesn’t stop you. Later, when another Viltrumite points it out, Mark just stares at them until they drop it. (You catch him redoing it himself weeks later.)

He watches Earth movies with you, even if he doesn’t get them. You introduce him to Modern Family and The Notebook—and he’s so confused. “Why are they wasting time talking instead of just fixing things?” But even though he complains, he still sits through them because you likethem. And sometimes, when he thinks you’re not looking, he actually pays attention.

He still calls you pet names in English. Viltrumites don’t really do pet names. They barely do affection. But Mark? He still calls you babe, sweetheart, baby—and when he says it, it sounds so out of place in the cold, brutal world of Viltrum. Like a little piece of Earth that only exists between you two.

He carves out a space on Viltrum just for you. Viltrum is rough—cold architecture, sterile environments. But your living space? It’s different. Mark makes sure of it. He brings soft blankets, Earth-made furniture, anything that makes it feel more like home. He even lets you fill it with unnecessary things (sentimental things) because he knows you need it.

He doesn’t care what Viltrum thinks—he’ll love you how he wants. They don’t understand him. They don’t understand why he does these things. But Mark doesn’t care. If bringing you roses, watching dumb Earth movies, or holding you too gently makes him weak, then fine. He’ll be weak for you. Because you’re his, and he’ll show you love exactly how you deserve it.

[kentosovertime]

𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔦𝔞 - (n.) the journey of changing one’s mind, heart, self, or way of life; spiritual conversion

✨Masterlist | Tag List | Ask Box✨ ☽ nanami is desperate to win back his ex wife ☽ cw: explicit content, alcohol, jealousy

“Where do you think you’re going?” He questions, annoyed as you stalk around your walk-in closet for an outfit. His shirt lays open, only half buttoned since he stripped his tie off at the door.

“You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Ken.” You sigh as you cock your head to the side, sliding an earring in before doing the other. “I didn’t invite you over.” 

“We both know I’m over here every night.” He tries to remind you, following you as you grab a dress off the hanger. 

“We’re divorced.” You point out the obvious as you jump into a skin tight black dress, smoothing it out over your curves. You rotate in front of the mirror, checking yourself from all angles. You decide it's more than passable. You had worn this on one of your first dates with him, and from the look he’s giving you he’s remembering it well… and how it ended up on the floor by the end of that night. “And it’s just a date. Though I’d appreciate it if you were gone by the time I get home.” 

You know he’s upset by the insinuation of what you would be doing after this date. If you were being honest, you didn’t see it going that far with the coworker who asked you out, but you never know. And you love how it makes Ken squirm as he pictures your night time activities without him. 

As you turn he crowds your space, backing you into the closet door with his proximity. 

“I don’t appreciate your disregard of-” he starts, his voice a low, gravelly growl. 

“Disregard of what?” Your eyes flare with anger as you push him away from you. “How does it feel to be the afterthought for once, Ken?” 

It had taken divorcing him to open his eyes. By the time he was ready to fight for you, to put work and promotions aside, you were already too far gone for him to reach. And you had let him go… in every way but physically. It was always the one area the two of you never had any issues in, and if anything it was even better now with the taste of desperation he brought to the interactions.

But you need more than sex. That was why you were finally ripping off the band-aid. 

“You’re… you’re not.” He stumbles, thrown off. Normally you’d let him pin you to the nearest surface and fuck you senseless. 

“I wish I believed you.” You push past him, making your way to the rack of shoes, picking a strappy pair of heels. 

“How can I prove that to you if you won’t let me?” He asks with a hint of desperation. You admit it pulls at your heartstrings, but that’s what has kept him hanging around for so long. 

You’ve stopped asking him to prove it a long time ago and you don’t know if you can’t ever get back to where you were at the beginning of your marriage. But at the thought of him stopping fighting for you, a pit forms in your stomach. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You sigh and kick off your shoes, stumbling slightly from the alcohol bleeding through your system. The night had gone well. Well enough to have him ask you out to another date later this week… you however, were still on the fence. 

Why couldn’t you just move on? 

“Where’s lover boy?” You hear Ken’s voice slur from your living room. The lamp on the side table flicks on and he’s leaning there, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He swirls it absentmindedly before knocking the liquid back and staring at you. 

“I never said he was coming over, Ken.” You curse him silently, drunk again and it's because of you. The drinking had started after you presented him with the divorce papers. On the nights he came over like this it always ended with him having his way with you. “I told you not to be here when I got back.” 

You march into your apartment, setting your purse and the bouquet of roses on your kitchen island as you shed your jewelry, too lazy and fed up to make it to your bedroom. You knew what would happen if you unintentionally lured him into that space. 

“The hell are these?” He mutters, his body suddenly caging you against the counter. His large hands grasp around the flowers, lifting them with disgust evident on his handsome face. 

You snatch them out of his hands reflexively, setting them back on the counter until you can get a vase for them to live in on your dining room table. You turn, facing where he has you pinned anger written on your face. 

“Do you get off on-” Your angry words are cut off when his hands grasp your cheeks and pull you forward, laying a desperate kiss on your lips. When you try to push him away, his free hand snakes around your waist and hauls you close to him as kneads your hips in the way that makes you go boneless. 

“You want flowers?” He pulls away, taking deep breaths as he lays his forehead against yours. “I can do that.” 

“K-ken-” He doesn’t allow you to protest as he dives back in, fiery and slow to make you savor how he feels pressed against you. His tongue dances with yours and he swallows your needy whimpers, the kiss fueling a fire inside of you. 

“You want fancy dinners?” He pants, dipping down to lift you up by your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I can give you that.” 

You hungrily meet his lips this time and he walks you towards your bedroom, gently laying you on the mattress. You haul him down, sighing as his weight settles on top of you. He slides closer, using his legs to spread your knees open. 

“You’re not wearing this for anyone else again.” He growls low, ripping your dress down the middle so he can kiss and suck down your neck. He makes his way down your body, crooning at you as he makes his way to his destination. 

You gasp and fist his hair, keeping him close to your body. Your dress hangs from your body as your chest heaves when he kisses you through your panties. 

“Let me make you feel good.” He hums, lapping at your cloth covered sex. “Let me be yours.” 

“Ken- We can’t-” Your whimpers cut you off and you hear a loud ripping sound as Kento throws your ruined thong over his shoulder before spreading you open by your thighs. His fingers dig into his curves, as if holding himself back. 

“We can.” He insists, testing the waters with a slow lick up your center, pulling a gasp from you. “You can let yourself want this.” 

He doesn’t let you respond as he sucks down on your clit. Slowly he presses his fingers into you and builds you up steadily, letting you feel the attention he’s promising to give you if you take him back. Your back arches, pressing your center into him as you try to ride his face. He wraps his free arm around you, pinning your hips to the mattress so he can control the pace. 

You find yourself breaking down, showered with all this affection. You can see yourself giving in to his demands, see him loving you again. Any protests you have die as you come apart on fingers and tongue. Your body spasms, shaking as he works you through your high, bringing you down gently until you're boneless and satisfied. 

You feel the bed rustle as he stands, taking the image of your sated form as he slowly unbuttons his shirt, dropping it to the ground with his pants and boxers. The bed dips again as he kneels on the surface. His form dips, gathering you by your hips to haul you towards the edge of the bed. 

“P-please.” You plead needily, your will broken, needing him to fill the void left inside of you by his absence. 

The head of his cock trails through your center and gently presses past your entrance as he shushes your whimpers. No matter how many times you had been with him, you never quite got used to his size. It leaves you limp, panting as the burn subsides. He takes pity on you this time, easing you into it as he rocks his length back and forth, making you feel the slide of every inch an and out of you. 

“Say it, sweetheart.” He coos, taking a hand and forcing you to keep eye contact as his hips roll into you, clapping in a steady rhythm. 

“N-need…” Your eyes flutter, watering at the tightening feeling in your stomach. “Need you, Ken- Please stay-” 

He moans at your words, seemingly letting them sink into his alcohol riddled mind. He leans in, kissing you roughly as his hands clasp both of yours, holding you as his thrust turn hard while keeping the same slow pace. 

“F-fuck, sweetheart. Cum for me.” He slides your hands up above your head, holding them down with one hand as he expertly circles your clit just the way you like it. 

White explodes in your vision and your legs lace around his waist, pulling him deep while you clench around him. He burrows his face into your neck, biting into your skin with a groan as your climax triggers his. You whimper and hold him close, your walls in ruins, your heart craving the love that only he can give you. 

“Please stay.” You murmur again against his skin, like you won’t change your mind in the morning, like you won’t do this song and dance again. 

“I’ll never leave you.”

tag list: @sugarbooger513 @sugarmapoops @roughwithfluff @silversslut @dreamyyholland @wobblewobble822 @rafzaha @chososhoney @littlemochi @bebechinas99 @saoney @meromelo @pelicanpizza @katgalle @honeyyjems @tsukikoxo @adequate-superstar @thytourturedpoet [[ if your blog name is crossed out i couldn't tag you]]

[jamieroyjamieroy]

“I’ve been the cause of some bad blood.”

“No one meant to exclude you Evan.”

“Nobody is looking at us Evan.”

“I think you’re adorable but I don’t think you are ready.”

“I didn’t cut things short because you behaved badly, I did it because I didn’t want to pressure you.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Well that’s not true.”

“If I had known I never would have used that word. I do not think you are a himbo.”

“Evan that is so sweet.”

“You’re an incredible guy. Big hearted. Hot as hell. Funny. Impulsive.”

“No matter how bad I want to be I’m not your last.”

“If I were to move in with you, you wouldn’t mean to, you wouldn’t plan for it but you would end up breaking my heart. And I don’t think I could deal with that.”

“Got it.”

“I have a shift later. Evan thank you for last night. It was fun.”

Buck stands in Eddie’s his kitchen looking at the breakfast that was loving prepared for him and thinks about all the times Tommy has forgiven him for putting his foot in his mouth. All the times Tommy has softened the blow as he left him behind. Again and again and again. He knew he messed up as soon as he stopped talking and saw Tommy’s face fall. Buck bangs his head on his fridge door. There is a rattling inside from how hard he thumped his head against it. Opening the fridge door he sees only the bare shelves. Opening the freezer door he finds a bottle of champagne. God he is an asshole. Tommy wanted to try again. Tommy has been thinking about calling him for months. Tommy has been driving by the loft.

Buck didn’t get to tell Tommy how many nights he laid awake wanting to call him. Buck didn’t get to tell Tommy how many hours he spent baking so he wouldn’t call him. Tommy has no idea how many shifts Buck annoyed everyone with his incessant questions about whether to call Tommy or not. Tommy has no idea that Buck couldn’t look at another person and want them the way he wanted Tommy. The way he still wants him. Racing out his house barefoot and carrying the bottle of champagne Buck is going to chase him down and tell him. He isn’t letting Tommy go this time. He can’t be so close to getting everything he could ever dream of and letting it slip through his fingers. Not again. He only hopes Tommy doesn’t run too fast. Not that Buck will stop this time. He knows who he loves and it’s about time he told Tommy it’s him. It will only ever be Tommy that has his heart.