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vibelladonna · 2 months ago

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✑ 𝒿𝑒𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝜗𝜚 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒! 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝑜

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Oh boy… the 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: 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 guy so much as breathes in your direction, and suddenly, it’s a whole different story. 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, the hell.”

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. He 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 the 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 throwing it on your face like you barely caught it. 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 deep-ass purple 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. This man has SHARP EYES. But 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 totally 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.

Like for example, you’d start hearing 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 his ass up?”

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 touch you 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, again...

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 near 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? I'll pay" he asked, already moving toward the counter before you could even respond. See, what a man, he's paying already AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN HAVE TO ASKKK.

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 can see 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. Holy shit.

"What happened?" He asked. Then, 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 soft that you couldn’t quite place.

"Why are you looking at me like that? The fuck," he asked his face now in disbelief, voice very much audible. His tone was almost conversational, but there was an edge to it, an unspoken command.

It was your face. And I MEAN YOUR FACE, eyes were shocked, and lips were barely open, still showing teeth. 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.

"It's nothing." You said, looking away, rather annoyed. Like damn, he always messes up moments like this. "To answer your question, 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. Was it jealousy? Possessiveness?

You paused, spoon halfway to your mouth, and gave him a look so casually, "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, like 'bitch what?'. "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 and added his own cooking. Claim he had too much but I know he's lying,"

You made a show of taking a bite of that food, GEO's 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.

"H-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.

Geo: the silent, brooding menace who could make you feel like the only person in the room with just a glance.

And then there was Sol: the human equivalent of a forest fire—intense, consuming, and just a little bit unhinged.

Each of them pulled at your heart in a very different way, and frankly? It was ruining your life.

Class should’ve been simple, but nope. Your mind kept spiraling between the two of them like some shamelessdaydreamer. This was supposed to be a harmless little game—a fun flirtation. You weren’t supposed to actually catch feelings.

And yet, here you were, caught in a ridiculous mental tug-of-war. You knew you couldn’t have both. You weren’t thatkind of person. Right?

…Right?

But the thought just wouldn’t leave. It sat there. Mocking you.

You groaned, running a hand down your face. It’s not like you could just—

…Oh god.

You couldn’t have a threesome with them.

That was insane. Insane.

You let out a quiet, awkward laugh at the mere idea of it. Geo and Sol? Together? Working together? As if. Those two could barely exist in the same airspace without someone looking ready to throw hands.

They’d sooner kill each other than ever—

…

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 with heavy sigh, “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.”

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 that definitely screams jealousy.

Geo didn’t back down.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His voice, obviously sturdy just annoyed.

“Oh, you’re really gonna act like you don’t know now?” Sol snapped, taking a step forward, his gaze never leaving Geo. "You can clearly see they not some fucking toy for you to keep playing with. Can’t you see there’s already fucking exhausted from all of this? From you”

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 scoff 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.

it wasn’t long that your name fell upon Geo lips, looking down at you, you refused to look before he for you face to look at you.

"You have something to tell me?” Geo asked.

Fuck. Things are definitely worse now because with that sudden touch oh Sol? Yeah, he’s not having it anymore.

“Hey get your hands off them” 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.

"I’m not letting you have them.”

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 them 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 annoying 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 however listen with your 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...

Yeah, you definitely fucked things up.

Sol stepped closer, his eyes flashing with a fierce intensity. “I’m not their savior. I just wanna make sure that they’re okay, you’re the one that’s stressing them."

Geo took a step forward, closing the space between them. “And who exactly said that? Last time I checked, you do not speak for them. How long are you gonna act like they belong to you, delusional ass.”

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 filled 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. .

Geo and Sol exchanged a brief, tense glance, but neither of them moved.

Your voice cracked slightly as you took another step back. “Please. Go away…”

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, filled with jealousy. "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, however Geo didn’t move, didn’t even blink.

Damn, he really don’t care nonchalant ass.

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 and pretty looking 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 sighed.

"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 sighed, 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 now?”

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.

Geo clicked his tongue in irritation. "I'm serious." His voice lost its usual arrogance, dipping into something quieter, something almost… uncertain. His brows pulled together just slightly, frustration flickering in his expression before he masked it again. "Believe me."

You hesitated, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. Geo wasn’t the type to plead, not like this.

Your fingers twitched at your side before you sighed, shaking your head. “Geo.” Your voice carried a tired edge. “I’m gonna see him. Whether you like it or not.”

His jaw clenched. "Use that brain of yours, dumbass," he muttered, irritation bleeding into his words. His usual smugness was still there, but it was strained—forced. "You can see it, can't you? That emo-ass dude isn't a good person."

You met his gaze, expecting the usual annoyed expression, the knowing glint in his eye. But there was none of that. Just something kept inside, something restless.

Still, you shook your head, unwilling to back down.

"I’ll figure things out myself."

Geo scoffed, but it lacked its usual bite. "Fine. It's your funeral," He didn’t stop you. Just shoved his hands into his pockets, watching as you walked away—like he wanted to say more but didn’t know how.

The sun had already begun to set when you strolled to the art building, the cool evening air wrapping around you in a bracing hug. The campus was quieter than usual, the incessant buzz of student chatter silenced by the soft murmur of distant conversations and the occasional crackle of leaves.

You walked down the corridor, your footsteps rustling softly against the floors, and arrived at the door to the art studio.

You paused for a single second, your hand hovering over the doorknob, before turning it and entering. The room was little illuminated, the golden yellow tones of the dying sun seeping in through the high windows, lighting the lengthening shadows thrown across the scattered easels and unfinished works.

The smell of paint and graphite filled the air, a welcome familiarity. The soft rumble of a heater vibrated through the room, and the soft whisper of papers as someone shifted around was the only sound.

And there he was.

Sol was sitting on a stool in the center of the room, a sketchpad resting on his knees. His dark hair fell just a little too long over his eyes, his usual brooding expression eased 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 caught on his face, the tension in his posture, the slight frown of concentration as his hand glided 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.

“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." You started.

"I like you more than I care to admit, and that’s the truth."

There. You said it. Happy?

Out loud, right in front of him. Sad?

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.

Yeah, you lowkey 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 placed you against the cold surface of one of the long 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’re mine now, pumpkin," he murmured, the words soft—too soft—but laced with something undeniable. Something that curled around you like chains, invisible but unbreakable. His fingers brushed against your skin, gently, but you knew better. There was nothing gentle about him, not when he looked at you like that.

His eyes, dark and unwavering, held yours captive. “I’ll keep you close. Not Geo, not anyone… Just me.”

The way he said it, sweet like a lover’s promise, yet suffocating in its certainty, sent a slow, creeping shiver down your spine. This wasn’t affection. It wasn’t even love. It was something else—something unshakable, something that left no room for escape.

His hold tightened, his lips ghosting over your ear as his breath fanned against your skin. “I’ll make sure you never forget that,” he whispered, the words sinking in like a vow, like a sentence.

Your breath hitched. The room felt smaller. His grip on your wrist, the weight of his presence—everything about him pulled you deeper into something you weren’t sure you’d ever get out of.

Sol wasn’t just the man you liked anymore. He was something more, something dangerous. And as much as you wanted to fight it, to pull away, the terrifying truth settled in the pit of your stomach.

You weren’t going anywhere.

Not unless he allowed it.

✑ 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 one time before his voice answered, and you immediately felt the coldness in his tone, like he doesn't care but he's been secretly been waiting for this call.

“Hey, you cool now?”

Yeah he's definitely upset but also quiet concern hidden beneath his brooding ass personality.

You rolled your eyes but also tried 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 know eventually through, 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. “Yeah...” 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.

You look at him, lost as hell, "What—" He cuts you off.

“He is from that rich society that happened to be kicked out of, and you know what that means."

You shrugged your shoulders and shook your head.

You didn't say anything. Ngl let's just hope he doesn't crash out.

"Long story short, 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 supposed to be mine, Pumpkin.”

He looks at you deeply, "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—like shit this was tiring.

But Sol wasn’t going to let you go that easily.

“I can't 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, “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 was filled with something sinful 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.

Why have you been dumb until now? 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 tight. 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. I’ll always make you see. I'll be good, you can do whatever you want to me, use me, hurt me, please”

The words Sol had thrown at you hung in the air, thick and suffocating, making it hard to breathe.

"Pumpkin, please don't pick him." not like I can anyway in the game.

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 exit stair 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 rage 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 knight.”

Geo didn’t flinch. If anything, he seemed even more determined. “You’ve already crossed every line. Just back off, she doesn't want you, peasant,” 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.”

And just like that, it was like the dam had broken. Crash out time!!

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—no, no that's a lie, you been know just didn't question it AKA minding your business.

The rooftop felt like it was closing in around you—like no matter how open it can be, 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. You were stuck.

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, however 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, however 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. T-T

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—not actually fighting for real, for whatever the hell it was they were after. Oh yeah, you...

But like 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 just by looking at you. They know you were holding some information back, but you didn’t have the proper answers they were looking for.

How could you? Like its very much embarrassing to say, 'Hey I was two-timing these dudes and this led to them fighting,' that isn't the full truth but that's how they would sum it up in the file report.

Like you didn't expect things to get so out of hand. You didn't expect Geo to beat Sol into the fucking ground or why Sol had become so obsessed with you in the first place.

You were so over everything at this point.

“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. 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.

No—you didn't want to answer.

And even if you could, 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.

"Look he put his hands on them. And I just stepped in to stop him." His tone didn’t leave room for debate, his usual sharpness replaced by something quieter, more protective. "I don't have a clue why he's so... obsessed with them, but what's done is done. You have him arrested for assault, sexual harrsment and etc. What more do you?"

The officers froze at Geo's words, he didn't say much at the start—perhaps he could tell you were sitting at a police station for like three hours now and all you wanted was to leave.

"You have all the evidence. That enough. We'll leave 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?

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 single 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.

Geo stood in the doorway—guessing that he followed you. Wait, you checked him in at the desk, right? Anyway, 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. "...I'll stay. If you’re scared, like if that's what you need."

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, however 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, you're covered in germs,”

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—in his own way, 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 with a dry laugh, 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.

“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. You always 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. That game you played was soo shitty and wrong. But If you’re asking if I regret meeting and talking to you...”

He sighed, looking away, "No. I don't."

Your breath caught by your lip, eyes widened as you lifted your body to look at him.

“Like 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. And trust me, I've tried.”

He shifted near 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, his face turned slightly red—shocking…

“I like a lot of things,” he said smoothly, stretching his arms above his head, his voice full of deflection. “My time. Plants, archery...”

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 at this damn point.

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.

#the kid at the back x reader #the kid at the back vn #tkatb #tkatb vn #tkatb sol #tkatb x reader #tkatb geo #tkatb head canons #the kid at the back sol #solivan brugmansia #sol brugmansia #sol x reader #the kid at the back geo #geo oogami #tkatb geo x reader #subaru oogami

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cybrasigilism · 5 months ago

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girl, hear me out... jun-ho & the reader doin it in a police car... IF NOT, I COULD TAKE FLUFF IDRC OR MIND 🤷‍♀️

girl when i tell you a giggled with GLEE at this request..

Wheels (Hwang Jun-ho X Reader Drabble)

character: hwang jun-ho (the police officer)

A/N: yk a jun-ho request absolutely hates to see me coming 😈 needed to make this a drabble or i’d go certifiably insane (go listen to VCR/Wheels by Tyler RIGHT NEAOW)

MDNI! 18+ content under the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ ・ ⟢ ──

fucking in the cop car? while being something you yourself have considered a few times since the beginning of your relationship with jun-ho, you always assumed it was something entirely out of the question, especially considering how seriously he took his job. so to say you were shocked when jun-ho was the one to suggest it was an understatement, but you certainly weren’t going to complain.

there were definitely no complaints when you two actually got around to it. now a car definitely isn’t the most romantic of all places to have sex, but you guys for sure made it work. of course, you were going to be on the receiving end of oral first, you knew that jun-ho wouldn’t have it any other way. for some reason, sitting on his face in the fully reclined passenger seat was just ten times hotter. maybe it was the challenge of it all, maybe it was how quickly the windows steamed up, allowing you to leave handprints while you steadied yourself as he ate you out, nevertheless you certainly didn’t want him to stop.

it must have been a special occasion, because this was one of the only instances where jun-ho allowed you to suck his dick. he said preferred to focus on pleasing you, but something inside you figured he was somehow embarrassed of the sounds he made when you let his cock separate your lips. for the first bit, he’d probably try to bite his lip or cover his mouth, anything to hold back his voice. but, if you persist and deepthroat him? yeah he won’t be able to contain himself. now it’s jun-ho who’s steadying himself against the fogged up window, simultaneously grabbing your hair lightly as you try your damnedest to make him feel as good as he makes you feel. he’ll go on about how “i should let you do this more often if you’re gonna suck me this good, fuck” and his moans will be unlike you’ve ever heard them before; lighter, more sporadic, you could definitely get used to this.

you best believe the only way this man is fucking you in the car is if you ride him. the two of you concluded that your go-to position (missionary) would be uncomfortable and impractical if either of you had to lay down in the backseat. even though jun-ho much rathers being on top (in the literal sense), he does get quite touchy while you’re bouncing on his dick. he’ll grab just about anything he can, his main mission is to draw those angelic sounds from your mouth after all. he lets you do most of the work but will occasionally buck his hips up into you if he feels you start to lose your pace, he could very easily just sit back and watch you ride his cock though.

jun-ho will totally praise you throughout the experience, after all why wouldn’t he encourage his pretty girl to continue to fuck him good?

“that’s it, ride me just like that gorgeous”

“don’t stop now, you’re doing so well”

“fuck, if you keep going like this… i don’t think i ever want you to stop”

you guys are both getting overstimulated inside that car, and that is a guarantee. how can you not? when the pleasure is too good, it would be foolish for either one of you to ever want it to come to an end. the more times either of you cum, your rhythm begins to falter, your bodies become shakier and you guys become much more vocal. all of this adds up to making the final climax feel so much better, the last release becomes that much more rewarding.

if this is how car sex with jun-ho looks, then it’s about high time you consider making it a more frequent occurrence.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ ・ ⟢ ──

full disclosure, i was totally zoinked writing this so i’m sorry if it doesn’t make a lot of sense. i fear this has been sitting in my drafts for an embarrassing amount of time but here it is!! i apologize for the delay and thank you for reading :)

as usual, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested!

have a fantastic night/day lovelies 💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @marymustdie @putrescentpoet

#squid game #squid game 2 #squid game smut #squid game x reader #x reader smut #fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #imagines #hwang jun ho #jun ho x reader #smut drabble

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ellipsus-writes · 1 month ago

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Each week (or so), we'll highlight the relevant (and sometimes rage-inducing) news adjacent to writing and freedom of expression. This week:

Inkitt’s AI-powered fiction factory

Inkitt started in the mid-2010s as a cozy platform where anyone could share their writing. Fast forward twenty twenty-fuckkkkk, and like most startups, it’s pivoted hard into AI-fueled content production with the soul of an algorithm.

Pictured: Inkitt preparing human-generated work for an AI-powered flume ride to The Unknown.

Here’s how it works: Inkitt monitors reader engagement with tracking software, then picks popular stories to publish on its premium app, Galatea. From there, stories can get spun into sequels, spinoffs, or adapted for GalateaTV… often with minimal author involvement. Authors get an undisclosed cut of revenue, but for most, it’s a fraction of what they’d earn with a traditional publisher (let alone self-publishing).

“'They prey on new writers who have no idea what they’re doing,' said the writer of one popular Galatea series."

Many, many authors have side-eyed or outright decried the platform as inherently predatory for years, due to nebulous payout promises. And much of the concern centers on contracts that don’t require authors’ consent for editorial changes or AI-generated “additions” to the original text.

Now, Inkitt has gone full DiSrUpTiOn, leaning heavily on generative AI to ghostwrite, edit, generate audiobook narration, and design covers, under the banner of “democratizing storytelling.” (AI? In my democratized storytelling platform? It’s more likely than you think.)

Pictured: Inkitt’s CEO looking at the most-read stories.

But Inkitt’s CEO doesn’t seem too concerned about what authors think: “His business model doesn’t need them.”

The company recently raised $37 million, with backers including former CEOs of Sony, Penguin, and HarperCollins, proving once again that publishing loves a disruptor… as long as it disrupts creatives, not capital. And more AI companies are mushrooming up to chase the same vision: “a vision of human-created art becoming the raw material for AI-powered, corporate-owned content-production machines—a scenario in which humans would play an ever-shrinking role.”

(Not to say we predicted this, but…)

Welcome to the creator-industrial complex.

Publishers to AI: Stop stealing our stuff (please?)

Major publishers—including The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Guardian, and Vox Media—have launched a "Support Responsible AI" campaign, urging the U.S. government to regulate AI's use of copyrighted content.

Like last month's campaigns by the Authors Guild and the UK's Society of Authors, there's a website where where you can (and should!) contact your representatives to say, “Hey, maybe stop letting billion-dollar tech giants strip-mine journalism.”

The campaign’s ads carry slogans like “Stop AI Theft” and “AI Steals From You Too” and call for legislation that would force AI companies to pay for the content they train on and clearly label AI-generated content with attribution. This follows lobbying by OpenAI and Google to make it legal to scrape and train on copyrighted material without consent.

The publishers assert they are not explicitly anti-AI, but advocate for a “fair” system that respects intellectual property and supports journalism.

But… awkward, The Washington Post—now owned by Jeff Bezos—has reportedly already struck a deal with OpenAI to license and summarize its content. So, mixed signals.

Still, as the campaign reminds us: “Stealing is un-American.”

(Unless it’s profitable.)

#WarForever

We at Ellipsus love a good meme-turned-megaproject. Back in January, the-app-formerly-known-as-Twitter user @lolt64 tweeted a cryptic line about "the frozen wastes of europa,” the earliest reference to the never-ending war on Jupiter’s icy moon.

A slew of bleak dispatches from weary, doomed soldiers entrenched on Europa’s ice fields snowballed (iceberged?) into a sprawling saga, yes-and-ing with fan art, vignettes, and memes under the hashtag #WarForever.

It’s not quite X’s answer to Goncharov: It turns out WarForever is some flavor of viral marketing for a tabletop RPG zine. But the internet ran with it anyway, with NASA playing the Scorcese of the stars.

In a digital hellworld increasingly dominated by AI slopification, data harvesting, and “content at scale,” projects like WarForever are a blessed reminder that creativity—actual, human creativity—perseveres.

Even on a frozen moon. Even here.

Let us know if you find something other writers should know about, (or join our Discord and share it there!)

- The Ellipsus Team xo

#ellipsus #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #creative writing #anti ai #writing community #fanfic #fanfiction #fiction #inkitt #us politics

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toweranne · 17 days ago

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Title: “Don’t pretend”

Pairing: Jacob Black x Reader

Genre: Romance / Flirty / Steamy

Setting: His garage, late at night, La Push

Word Count: 645

📌 This is a work of fiction written by me. Re-posts, translations or copying without credit is not allowed. Please be kind — creators deserve respect. 💌

— 🔞 Contains suggestive content and mature themes. All interactions are consensual and written for entertainment purposes only. Read responsibly.

---

The air was thick with motor oil, pine, and that unmistakable scent that was just Jacob — earthy, warm, intoxicating. You sat perched on his beat-up workbench, legs swinging, the hem of your shorts riding up just a little higher each time he glanced your way.

He was leaning under the hood of his rebuilt Rabbit, shirtless, his bronze skin glowing under the harsh fluorescent lights. Muscles flexed with every twist of his wrench, sweat trailing down the line of his spine as he worked.

“You keep staring like that, and I’m gonna start charging you,” he said without looking up.

You smirked. “Charging for what? The show?”

He finally glanced over his shoulder, a crooked grin spreading across his face — cocky, wild, dangerous. “Damn right,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag before tossing it aside. “Premium view. I should at least get a tip.”

You tilted your head, letting your eyes roam slowly over his body — the tight line of his abs, the tattoo on his arm, the unmistakable heat in his gaze.

“I thought you liked me watching,” you teased.

Jacob stepped closer, every movement smooth and predatory, like a wolf circling prey — except you weren’t scared. You were aching.

“I do,” he said, voice lower now, rougher. “I like it a lot.”

His hands found your thighs, large and hot against your skin as he stepped between your legs. The energy shifted — electric, magnetic. You felt it hum through you, pooling low in your stomach.

“You always wear these little shorts when you come over,” he murmured, his fingers sliding just under the hem, knuckles grazing the inside of your thigh. “Is that for me?”

“Maybe,” you breathed, trying not to squirm under his touch. “And if it is?”

His grin deepened. “Then I guess I owe you a thank you.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing your neck — not quite kissing, just hovering — warm breath ghosting over your skin. His nose trailed up to your ear, and you felt the soft press of his teeth against your lobe.

“Thank you,” he whispered, low and sinful.

You couldn’t stop the soft gasp that left your lips. One of his hands moved to your lower back, pulling you forward, flush against him. You could feel everything — the heat of his skin, the unmistakable tension between your bodies, the raw desire that radiated from him like a furnace.

“Jake,” you said, your voice shaky now, but your fingers had already found his waist, sliding around to his back.

“I’ve been trying to be good,” he growled, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck. “Trying to take my time. But you make it so hard, baby.”

Your hands traveled up his back, nails lightly scraping his shoulder blades. “Maybe I don’t want you to be good.”

Jacob froze for half a second. Then — gone. The leash snapped. He crashed his lips into yours, hot and hungry, devouring your breath like he couldn’t get enough. His hands were everywhere — your waist, your hips, sliding beneath your shirt, skin to skin.

You moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound greedily, pressing you back onto the workbench. The tools clattered, forgotten. All you could feel was him — the fire, the weight, the need.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, pupils blown wide, lips swollen. “You sure?” he asked, voice rough, almost shaking. “Because if we do this…”

He didn't finish the sentence, but the promise in his eyes said enough.

You bit your bottom lip, fingers tugging him closer by his belt loops. “I’m not scared. I trust you.”

Jacob smirked. “Good.”

He kissed you again — deeper this time, slower — and when he spoke next, his voice was nothing but a rumble in your ear.

“Because tonight, baby… don’t pretend you didn’t come here hoping I’d ruin you.”

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fateunwritten-if · 19 days ago

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Please Stop

Hey everyone,

I want to take a moment to address something very important because I’ve been getting a lot of messages lately that completely miss the point and some have even gone way beyond just “asking for more content.” After I posted about harassment toward authors in our community, it seems a few anons have taken it upon themselves to harass me personally.

This is exactly the kind of toxic behavior that has driven talented creators and many others away from this community. They left because they were made to feel unsafe, disrespected, and unwelcome. And honestly, I don’t want to see that happen here or to anyone else.

1. Asking for more content is not harassment — but harassment is harassment. Fans are excited, and wanting updates is totally natural. I love that enthusiasm! But there is a massive difference between a polite question or a respectful request and repeatedly sending unwanted or invasive messages especially after someone has said, “stop.”

2. Writing is hard work and emotional labor. Creating stories takes time, emotional energy, and care. It’s not just “typing a story” on a whim. Creators don’t owe anyone instant updates or constant content just because they share their work publicly. Demanding updates like it’s a job you’re paying for ignores the passion behind every word, and it can be really draining.

3. Sharing work publicly does not mean inviting harassment. When creators share their work online, they’re sharing a part of themselves, yes. But that doesn’t mean opening the door to disrespect, sexual harassment, or personal attacks. Everyone deserves to feel safe and respected in their own creative space, including me.

4. Characters can be attractive. that’s part of storytelling. But we are not those characters. I am a real person with feelings and boundaries. They are real people with feelings and boundaries. Receiving unwanted sexual messages directed at me personally is hurtful. Being objectified or called a “tease” is unfair and wrong.

5. I do not enjoy or seek obsession or harassment. Creating stories is my passion and my way to connect with others — it’s not an invitation for personal invasion, obsession, or harassment. Those kinds of accusations or behaviors are hurtful and damaging, not only to me but to the community as a whole.

I will be turning off anon for a while, thank you.

- Amelia <3

#author talks #interactive story #interactive fiction #twine if #twine wip #if game #if #twine #twine interactive fiction #important #signal boost

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damnfandomproblems · 6 months ago

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Fandom Problem #6606:

Things people in fandom need to remember:

You are responsible for curating your own online experience.

If something upsets you/makes you angry/makes you feel sick, stop reading/looking at it. Avoid the things that you do not like instead of seeking it out to tell people who do like it to stop making it. That does nothing good.

If you hate something, you do not need to tell that to the creators or state it publicly.

Use the back button, it is free to use.

You are allowed to ship whatever you want, but other people are also allowed to ship whatever they want.

While you are entitled to dislike or hate a ship, please be respectful and not put the hate in the tags for that ship.

If you see posts about someone liking a ship that you do not like, you do not need to hop into their DMS/replies and start arguing with them about it. Just ignore them.

Do not harass fan creators or fans for shipping something you disapprove of. If you wouldn't like it happening to you, then they would not like it happening to them.

All the ship stuff also applies to characters.

Be kind and don't be an asshole.

Focus on the things you like instead of actively seeking out content you dislike to bash on the people who do like it.

Stop stirring up petty drama just to get attention. People get annoyed by that and some will call you out for it which will just cause more drama, so it is best to just avoid it entirely.

Please remember that your own experiences in a fandom space are not universally shared. The perceptions you have of something differ from person to person, but it does not necessarily mean either of you are wrong.

#ask box submission #fandom problem 6606 #character problems #shipping problems

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wolfstarlibrarian · 20 days ago

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Re-posting fics: How not to be an asshole

I know, kind of salty for a heading, sorry, but we got some stuff to talk about. (Also, sorry I haven't been around as much but my life has been WONDERFULLY full, so thank you to everyone who's checked in. ❤️)

I've gotten a few asks in my inbox and I don't want to embarrass anyone and I also don't want to inadvertently give any future scoundrels and any tips.

"I love this fic but the author took it down, so I'm going to repost it on AO3, and just mention that I'm not the author"

NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT! *sprays you with water*

You have a copy of the fic. Kudos. But if they author wanted it on AO3 then IT WOULD BE ON AO3. Taking a fic not on A03 and putting it on A03 is a massive "fuck you!" to the author. The ultimate sign of disrespect to someone who put HOURS AND HOURS of work into their. FOR FREE. The LEAST we can do as fans is GIVE RESPECT.

Authors are not corporations. Authors are not sponsored. Authors are not "content creators". They are HOBBYISTS who are sharing their HOBBY with you.

Enjoy the fact that you have the fic.

If the author wanted it shared in ANY WAY they would put it back on A03.

Also I hate that I have to say this, but this same logic goes for Wattpad, Goodreads, Fanfiction.net, PDFs on reddit, and every site ever. Please stop.

"But no one is getting hurt"

Many authors took down work because they don't want their art mined by AI and you're putting it back up for AI.

Many authors took down their work as a rebellion against JKR and you're spitting in their face while they're trying to protest something.

Many authors took down their work because they're trying to pitch it as a book and they can't because agents and publishers search for the phrases and go "Well this exact story is already up for free and it's got gross, X-rated material I didn't see in my draft, so I'm definitely not giving them a book deal now". Congrats, now you'll never get a published and bound copy of your favorite fic.

Many authors took down their work because they are no longer proud of their work and they've grown as an artist and having the work up brings them daily shame, but you put it back up anyway.

Many authors took down their work for reasons that WE WILL NEVER KNOW and it's still our place to respect that.

Look, I support piracy. Corporations don't let us own anything anymore, so pirating isn't even stealing. But fanfic authors are not corporations. And you can't own a fic that isn't yours.

These authors have NOTHING but control over their work and you are stealing that. You are ruining their art, after they made it for you, for free.

If you love something, respect it.

I know you think you're helping fans by reposting a fic but I can't tel you how many authors I know that no longer post their fics BECAUSE THEY KNOW PEOPLE WILL STEAL THEM.

Reposting fanfics is killing fandom.

What do you do as a fan when you see reposted fanfics?

If you can, find and tell the author so they can take legal action.

Bully the author. Respond to every single comment on A03 and tell them exactly why the fic shouldn't be online, and why they shouldn't be supporting the non-author who published the fic without the author's consent

Go to the re-poster's social media and spread the word there. IDC anymore.

Talk about it with your friends and in servers. Every time you see someone asking for "PDFs of a fic" on tiktok go ape shit in the comments and get all your friends to help.

Okay, rant done. And remember, if you feel powerless, you will always have the power fanfic authors. You're part of this community. Your value and actions matter.

#wolfstar #fanfiction #ao3 #piracy #i want to end this with a gift of a cat but then the post was crazy long #also hit up my DMs if you've read Carl Dungeon Crawler #also no this note does not make me mad at any particular ask in my inbox because I appreciate those people actually asked me before acitng #and it's one of those things that seems normal and fine until you meet someone who opens your eyes to a different POV #so go forth and protect fanfiction #or ai really will ruin it and we'll go back to the dark ages of only sharing printed copies at conventions

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yourjinworld · 2 months ago

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Kikoleviijeansunitiii Conversion for toddler and child //,Kikoleviijeansunitii Conversion for Child //Khadijah551 SHAKE N' GO V1 Conversion for Toddler and Child

I will stop sharing in Simfileshare for now due to the circonstances .....

You will need the mesh 1-2 !

Credit to Kikovanity and Khadijah551

Their tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/kikovanitysimmer and https://khadijah551.tumblr.com/

My Patreon link

The bow acc is in hat category

You can check my shake n'go v2 conversion here

If there are any issues please dm me !

If you want to know what cc I used send me an ask .

If you have a cc request send here

don't reupload

don't resell or put in folders behind paywall

don't claim as your own

don't include the mesh if you make a recolor

you CAN include my conversion in your folders as long as it's free AND give me credits with a tag in your post

please INCLUDE a link back to my Tumblr or Patreon and to the Original Creator

I would love to see your pics so tag me if you use any of my conversions !

My content is always free so please respect my TOU ♥️

#the sims 4 #sims 4 alpha #simblr #sims 4 cas #alpha cc #ts4 edit #cc finds #the sims community #download #ts4 toddlers alpha hair #ts4 child alpha hair #ts4 cc finds #show us your sims #ts4 custom content #sims 4 conversions #sims 4 community #sims 4 poses #wcif friendly

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starteas · 2 months ago

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LUMI AND THE GREAT BIG GENERAL GUIDE

Because LATGBG is niche enough to where it hasn’t blown up yet, I figured I’d go ahead some ground rules! I hope this guide is able to help with the dos and don’ts when it comes to my personal comfort as Lumi’s communitu to grow.

Fanart is A-OK, in fact, I would love to see it! Because my notifications have been blowing up so much, I may miss it— so please be sure to tag me!

Original characters are a big YES! You are free to make original characters and do with them what you wish. The galaxy is huge, after all— this includes making original species or expanding on the current species. You are also free to connect them to the main characters, if you wish!

Shipping/self shipping is fair game. I do not mind it, but Lumi is not a show where there is any intention of shipping in mind. Have fun, but do not bully others! I don’t care how many times I have to go and scold others myself, I will not tolerate it. Be kind!

Headcanons are A-OK! I consider the galaxy and characters to be one big playground, so if there is a certain idea you may have that aligns with any of the characters, please feel free to express it and headcanon to your heart’s delight. Again, do not bully others for their ideas or headcanons, though I will not confirm if they are canon or not!

Cosplays are A-OK! Again, I would love to see them, so please tag me so I can see them!

You are free to use the work from the pilot as icons, headers, etc etc! This also includes art I’ve done of the Lumi cast and characters, as long as you link back to the original source!

Making fan made merch for yourself is A-OK, but as I do not know the inner workings of making fan merch, I ask you do not sell Lumi merch when it comes to making things such as t-shirts, hoodies and plushies, etc to sell as I will consider it to be unauthorized— especially if you’re a company such as Hot Topic (though I doubt it’d ever get to that point!). I am not a large creator, and would prefer if merch is handled by myself for the time being. Things such as gaming skins (like Roblox for example) and other things of the like are OK as long as they are not sold and distributed for free.

As I cannot control what the internet as a whole does, I ask that if any erotic content is made regarding this, that it is tagged separately, properly and is not placed in the main tag. I will not be looking into this tag; nor will I be making one for you. Any erotic art that is made featuring these characters is not condoned by me and I flat out do not encourage it— but I also harbor no delusions that this will stop anyone. At the very least, I warn those who create this sort of artwork to be mindful of what they post and be respectful to myself and others who may not want to see this content.

#evan bleats #lumi and the great big galaxy #latgbg #important #hmmm I can’t think of anything else I should add… I may edit this post later #that last bullet point was very difficult for me to write but I suppose it’s a hurdle that comes with being a creator online #once again all I ask is for you to respect that and thank you for reading this far if you have

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vibelladonna · 2 months ago

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✑ 𝓁𝓊𝓈𝒸𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝜗𝜚 𝓉𝓀𝒶𝓉𝒷 𝓂𝑒𝓃

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: The TKATB men are so into people of all sizes, and honestly, it’s kinda refreshing to think about how each of them would be low-key obsessed with their partner’s body, but in a way that totally fits their vibe. Like, I can so see it—each of them having their own quirky, unique way of being all about it...

But in their weird, lovable ways ! !

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.

Honestly, it’s just too cute how they’d love and appreciate their partner no matter what! But ngl, I was a little nervous writing and posting this because, like, I kinda have body issues myself, and this is such a touchy topic. I honestly have no idea how my dearest readers are gonna feel about it, so just consider this your warning!

[ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Crow’s the type to compare you to the stars and gods before you even get a chance to complain.

You shuffled around your room, digging through your clothes for something cute but effortless.

You and Crowe didn’t need a reason to go out—any excuse to be together worked. Tonight, it was just a quiet evening under the stars, the kind of night that made the world feel a little more intimate, where it was just the two of you, no pressure.

Truth be told, the date was more of an excuse to hang out, but with Crowe around, even the simplest plans felt like an adventure—whether it was a quiet walk in the park or something a little more exciting.

Crowe leaned against the doorframe, arms casually crossed, his eyes following every movement you made as you sifted through your wardrobe. He had this look on his face—a quiet admiration, the kind that made your pulse quicken and your cheeks flush, even after all this time. Like there was something about the way he looked at you, like you were the most captivating thing in the room, and it made everything inside you feel just a little bit lighter.

"Hey," Crowe’s voice broke through your thoughts, smooth and warm, the kind that made your heart skip a beat. "You look absolutely stunning today."

You glanced over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow with an amused grin. "Crowe, I’ve been wearing this all day. Are you seriously still going to compliment me like I’m some cover model?"

His smile widened, that mischievous gleam never leaving his deep blue eyes. "Well, if you were in a magazine, it’d be the one everyone’s been dying to read. Trust me, dearest, you always look like a million bucks."

You laughed, rolling your eyes.

It was ridiculous how easy it was for him to get under your skin in the best way possible. "You’re soooo impossible, you know that?"

Crowe just shrugged, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Impossible? Maybe. But you love it."

He pushed off from the doorframe and strolled into the room, his presence filling the space with ease. His gaze never left you as he leaned against the dresser, arms folding casually.

You noticed how he was always so effortlessly cool—never rushing, never anxious, just... there.

So certain of himself, yet always so attuned to you.

"Seriously though, for me,” You started, voice lowering just a little, that familiar warmth in it, “Personally for me, I can’t get over how you move. Like... the way your hips sway when you walk? The whole room might as well stop for a moment. You know that, right?" You joked. No, you not because you swear Crowe can be a damn model himself if he wanted to, he’s simply so pretty to look at, fuck.

A laugh bubbled up in his chest, though he tried to hide it with a dismissive wave. "Oh, stop it. Who’s gonna believe you? You’re trying to take my charmer side anyway. You’d have anyone eating out of the palm of your hand if you tried hard enough."

Crowe’s eyes softened, and there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. It only lasted for a second, but it was enough to make you pause. He took a step closer, his fingers brushing against your arm as he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The touch lingered just a beat longer than necessary, and your breath caught in your throat.

"Maybe," he said quietly, his voice more sincere than you expected, "maybe they’re all just intimidated by how amazing you are. But you don’t need to worry about that. I’ve got your back. Always."

The words hit you harder than you anticipated.

For someone who didn’t ask for help, Crowe had a way of offering it without hesitation. You couldn’t help but feel a little lighter in his presence like all the weight you carried was a little easier to bear when he was around.

"Why do you never ask for help, Crowe?" you blurted out, the question slipping before you could stop it. "You do everything for everyone else, but when it comes to you… it’s like you don’t want anyone to see you need anything."

Crowe let out a soft chuckle, his usual teasing smile curling up at the corners of his lips. "What can I say? I’m your knight in shining armor. I’m here to protect you, not the other way around."

You shook your head, affection flooding your chest despite his teasing. "You're not just a knight, Crowe. You’re my savior," you whispered, meeting his gaze with a look that felt a little too intense. "But that doesn’t mean you have to carry everything on your own."

He leaned in just slightly, his playful grin slipping into something more tender. "I know, I know. I just don’t want to burden you with my stuff. Besides..." He stepped closer, the air between you two thick with that warm energy he always carried. "I don’t mind being the one to take care of you. Who wouldn’t want to look after the most amazing person in the room?"

You blinked up at him, about to respond, but his gaze shifted. "Hey," he said, his tone suddenly more serious. "What's going on? You’ve been quiet for a bit."

You sighed, shrugging.

"I dunno, just… I’ve been feeling off. About my body, I guess."

Crowe’s brow furrowed, instantly on alert. "What? What’s wrong with your body?" His voice had this sharp concern in it that only made your stomach flip, though you tried to push it away.

"Just... not feeling my best," you muttered, clearly frustrated.

The second the words left your mouth, Crowe’s eyes lit up with pure determination. He took a step back, scanning you like you were the most captivating thing he’d ever seen, his gaze never leaving you.

"Okay, hold on," he said, taking a dramatic breath like he was about to drop the most epic revelation of the century. "Do you hear yourself? You—" He paused, eyes sparkling as if he were about to tell you a secret that would change your life.

"You’re like... a celestial being of pure power and grace. Honestly, I’m pretty sure Anubis would be jealous. Or like... every celestial god ever, really. You’re out here walking into a room and making time stop, love.”

He flung his arms out dramatically as though trying to capture your essence in the air. "The way you move? It's like you're in an art gallery, and the world is your canvas. Like, are you sure you’re not secretly a god in disguise? 'Cause I'm starting to believe it."

You blinked at him, struggling not to burst out laughing, a rush of warmth in your chest.

"Crowe, you are so over the top."

He sighed dramatically, shaking his head as though you were the one being ridiculous. "And you’re really gonna argue with me on this? Have you even seen how perfectly you fit in my arms? I’m the lucky one here. I get to hold you.” He said.

“You’re the definition of perfection. There’s no one like you."

Crowe’s voice was low, almost hypnotic, as his hand brushed across your side, his fingers tracing along your waist in a way that made your skin prickle.

You gave him a soft smile, but inside, you were fighting the urge to blush, to get all sentimental. Instead, you turned back to your closet, trying to keep things casual.

"Well, if you're gonna keep looking at me like that, I’m never gonna finish getting dressed," you said, trying to sound unbothered. "We’ve got a date night to get to, remember?"

Crowe chuckled, stepping closer, his hand lingering on your arm before sliding down to your hip. "Right, right. How could I forget? The stars, your company... it’s literally the best combination."

You turned to face him, giving him a pointed look.

“Keep it in your pants, Crowe.”

His smile? Immediate. Unrepentant.

That look in his eye practically screamed ‘I heard what you said and I’m choosing violence anyway.’ He leaned against the doorframe like he was posing for a fantasy romance cover, smirking with the confidence of a man who absolutely should not be trusted near you.

“Oh, I’d gladly take you down under the stars,” he said, voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. “You and me, the moonlight, a blanket, zero regrets. It would be perfect.”

You deadpanned. And then you launched the nearest pillow at his smug face with all the grace of divine judgment. Sins begone.

Of course, because he was Crowe, he dodged it with annoying precision, laughing like you’d just confessed your undying love rather than threatened him with soft furniture.

“Seriously?” you muttered. “You were literally raised by etiquette textbooks. How are you still this—this?”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Sinful? Irresistible? Blessed by the stars and burdened with unholy charm?”

“Unholy something,” you mumbled.

Crowe placed a hand over his heart like you’d just stabbed him—dramatically, of course. “You wound me. I’m simply a man in awe of a goddess.”

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “You’re so extra.”

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to be dangerous again. “Yeah, but you love it.”

You groaned like your soul was trying to leave your body, and he took that as a yes, the audacity radiating off him like heat off asphalt. With a wink and a mock salute, he opened the door—pausing dramatically in the doorway, because of course he did.

“Now, please hurry. We’re getting you out there like the celestial deity you are.”

And just like that, your infuriating, charming disaster of a man disappeared down the hallway, probably to go flirt with the moon or compose love sonnets in your name.

You couldn’t even be mad. He really did have a loving heart… buried somewhere underneath the twenty layers of dramatic flair, star metaphors, and relentless flirtation.

Ugh, Crowe knows how to work his charm with those words.

I’ll never forget my first love, I missed writing him.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol’s the type who can see every curve of you effortlessly.

Sol stood back, his brush poised in the air as he looked at the canvas in front of him, deep in thought.

The faint hum of the radio playing some emo-ass music added an artistic charm to the atmosphere. He was always so serious about his art, and you loved how passionate he could get when he was working on something.

"Hey," he finally spoke, his voice soft but filled with curiosity, "I need your help with something... and it’s a little out of the ordinary."

You looked up, a bit confused. "What do you need help with?"

He hesitated for a moment, eyes flickering between you and the canvas. "I want to paint you," he said, gesturing toward the canvas with a flick of his brush. "But not just any regular painting... I want to cover your body in paint. Think of it like... a living piece of art."

You blinked, trying to process what he meant. "Wait, like... actually painting my body? You want me to stand still while you paint me?"

Sol gave a shy, almost embarrassed smile, his green streaks shifting slightly as he adjusted his half-up-half-down hair. "Yeah, I know it’s a bit unconventional, but... I think it’ll be beautiful. The way the paint will move with your body... it’ll be like... history in motion." He hesitated again, as if second-guessing himself. "If you’re comfortable with it, of course."

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the quiet passion for his art, and how much he valued your trust in him. You took a deep breath, trying to hold back the nervousness creeping up your spine. "Okay, Sol, let’s do it. Just... no weird historical poses, all right?"

He chuckled softly, his crimson-red eyes lighting up. "I promise, no Renaissance art poses... unless you want me to," he teased, giving you a playful wink.

You laughed, the tension in your shoulders easing. "All right, all right, I’ll trust you with this. But you better make me look like a masterpiece."

Sol moved around you, his movements fluid and focused, as he carefully applied the paint to your skin. The quiet hum of classical music filled the room, but his presence—his calm, steady presence—was what made everything feel still and serene.

You stood there, wrapped in a moment that felt intimate in a way you hadn't anticipated. It wasn’t just about the painting; it was about the way he made you feel: seen, appreciated, cherished.

But as you stood there, exposed and vulnerable in front of him, a nagging thought crept into your mind.

What if you’re not good enough?

You shifted uncomfortably, your thoughts turning inward as Sol’s brush strokes continued.

What if your body isn’t the kind of art he deserves to paint?

You began to pick apart every little imperfection, feeling the weight of your insecurities pressing in.

Sol paused, sensing the change in your energy. He tilted his head slightly, studying you with those intense, almost ethereal eyes—one orange, one color—and then gently placed his brush down. He took a slow step closer, his gaze never leaving you. His hand, warm and soft, found its way to your waist, the touch small but grounding.

"Hey," he said, his voice thoughtful, a slight warmth in it that only seemed to intensify the affection he always had for you. "I can tell what you're thinking. But listen to me, all right?" He took a breath, his expression softening even more.

"You’re... beautiful, in ways that can’t be captured by any brush or canvas. Not even the greatest painters could do justice to how... real you are."

His hand slid up your side, just a simple, reassuring gesture, but the warmth of it wrapped around you like a blanket. You opened your mouth to protest, but he shook his head gently, his fingers brushing your skin in a way that made you stop.

"You remind me of something... a quote from one of my favorite writers," Sol murmured, his voice just above a whisper. "Edgar Allan Poe once wrote, 'Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.'"

You met his gaze, a flicker of confusion in your eyes.

Sol’s lips curled into a small smile, and his hand cupped your chin gently, guiding your face up to meet his gaze fully.

"He meant that real beauty isn’t just about what you see, but how it makes you feel. How it moves you. And you, in your own way, are the kind of beauty that excites the soul—makes it feel something deep."

The quiet sincerity in Sol’s voice caught you off guard, his usual playful demeanor nowhere to be found. It wasn’t the loud, dramatic show of affection you’d expect from him—it was deeper, more subtle. So much deeper, in fact, that it almost took your breath away.

Sol was always ready with a quip or some teasing remark, his sense of humor a shield against vulnerability. But in this moment, he didn’t need humor. He didn’t need to hide behind sarcasm or wit. His love, his admiration, was felt in the smallest gestures: the way his fingers brushed the side of your waist, the way he leaned just a little bit closer during moments of silence, and the way his eyes never seemed to stray from you when you were together.

“You’re perfect just the way you are,” he whispered, his voice warm, and surprisingly serious. His hand traced the curve of your waist slowly as if memorizing the feel of you under his touch. "Nothing about you needs to change, not a thing."

You blinked, caught off guard by the weight of his words.

There was no teasing, no lighthearted comment to follow.

Just a simple truth that settled in your chest, easing the tension you didn’t even know was there.

"You don’t need to be anything else," Sol added softly, his voice so low it was almost a murmur.

"You already are such a wonderful masterpiece."

You stood there, stunned for a moment. His fingers lingered on you like a quiet promise, and your insecurities—the ones that had been gnawing at you all day—seemed to melt away.

There was no need for you to hide or change.

In his eyes, you were enough. Perfect.

As he took a step back, his eyes moved over you again, but this time, it wasn’t the eyes of an artist, studying a piece of work. No, this time it was the look of someone who had already decided you were beautiful, flaws and all. Every curve, every imperfection was part of something that made you real, something that made you whole.

He gave you a smile—soft, almost proud.

“You’re more beautiful than any painting I could ever create,” he said, his words coated in genuine admiration, the kind that made your chest swell with something almost too tender to describe.

“And I’m lucky I get to call you mine.”

Your heart warmed at the sentiment, but then, the mischievous glint returned to his gaze. Just as quickly as the vulnerability appeared, it was replaced with his usual cocky swagger. But the words still lingered, melting the tension in your chest.

You took a step back, shifting your body slowly, deliberately.

A wicked grin spread across your face as you rolled your hips, just enough to send him a signal—something that would make him squirm.

“Lucky, huh?” you purred, voice smooth and teasing, your movements slow as you turned your back to him, knowing full well he was watching. You exaggerated the sway of your hips, pushing your body against him just enough for him to feel it. The way his breath hitched told you everything you needed to know.

His face turned crimson almost instantly, and you could see the telltale signs of him trying to play it cool like he hadn’t just been put on the spot.

“Careful there,” you teased, stepping closer again, your body brushing against his with purpose.

“You might just find out how lucky you really are.”

Sol’s jaw clenched, eyes widening as he tried to regain his composure. But it was obvious. You had him flustered. The cocky grin faltered just slightly as he cleared his throat, a sheepish laugh slipping past his lips.

“I—uh—I'm always lucky, right?” he said, his voice faltering for a second before he cleared his throat again, cheeks still flushed. “You’re just, you know... distracting.”

You turned back to face him with a playful, knowing smile, eyes flickering over him. “Distracting?” You raised an eyebrow, lips curling into something more mischievous. “I’m not that distracting.”

“Y-You are,” he sputtered, his face burning brighter as he tried to backpedal, but his words were slipping out in a tangled mess. “I’m just trying to say—I mean, you’re—uh, distractingly... perfect. Happy?”

You could see the way Sol was trying to keep it together, his usual cocky demeanor slowly unraveling under the weight of your teasing. His face was flushed, and his breath was a little shallow—oh, you had him right where you wanted him.

You couldn’t help but let a small, satisfied grin slip across your face as you brushed a finger down his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your touch.

“Happy, but I think you’re still a little... flustered,” you whispered, your voice low and teasing, barely above a breath.

Sol’s lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, he just stood there, cheeks flaming red, clearly at a loss for how to keep his cool. His usual confident swagger had disappeared, leaving him with nothing but his flushed skin and that almost desperate look in his eyes.

“Shut up,” he muttered, his voice gruff, though it didn’t quite match the tenderness he was clearly trying to hide. That smile—just the slightest tug at the corner of his lips—gave him away.

“I think you’re enjoying this a little too much,” he added, his words soft but full of warmth, like he couldn’t quite decide whether to laugh or pull you closer.

“Well,” you purred, leaning in so your lips were almost touching the shell of his ear, your voice barely a whisper. “Maybe I’ll stop distracting you... if you can keep your cool next time.”

Sol’s throat tightened as he struggled to form a coherent response, his eyes still fixed on you with that heated, almost predatory intensity. He cleared his throat, his hands finding the back of his neck in a desperate attempt to regain some control.

“No promises,” he muttered, his voice slightly strained, clearly trying to hold it together. “But, uh... you’re lucky I don’t mind a little distraction... with you.”

You smirked at his struggle to hide his arousal, stepping back just enough to give him a little space. But not too much. You wanted him to feel it, feel how much you had him on the edge.

“Mmm, I think I’ve got you figured out,” you said with a sly grin, letting your words settle in the air between you two.

Sol let out a soft laugh, but it didn’t sound as confident as before. “Yeah, you do,” he said, still a little flustered, his cocky edge barely hanging on. “And if you keep this up, you might just make me say something... really cheesy.”

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you took a step back, your body deliberately moving in a way that made his eyes follow your every movement. He didn’t even try to hide the way his gaze lingered on you, the heat of his stare nearly tangible.

“Maybe I’ll make you,” you teased, your voice dripping with mock sweetness. “We’ll see how much you can handle.”

And just as he took a breath to respond, you pounced.

In a flash, you had him pinned beneath you, his back hitting the ground with a soft thud as you straddled him with confidence. His breath hitched, a surprised gasp escaping his lips, but you didn’t give him time to adjust.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered, “Now, tell me, Sol... can you finish your artwork now? Or will I be too much of a distraction?”

Sol’s eyes widened, a mix of frustration and desire flickering in his gaze as you pressed your body into his, feeling every inch of him tense beneath you. His hands hovered just at your sides, like he was trying so hard to keep them from pulling you closer—yet, you could feel the unspoken tension in his every muscle.

“I—I’m trying to focus,” he stammered, his voice lower now, almost a growl, but the way his hips shifted told you everything. “But you’re making it... really hard to concentrate.”

You smiled, leaning down to brush your lips across his jawline, just soft enough to send a shiver down his spine. “You’ll deal with it later, Sol,” you teased, the promise of something far more tantalizing hanging between your words.

“Finish your art. And then, we’ll see what happens next.”

You could feel his restraint crumbling beneath you, and for the first time in a while, you saw Sol’s usual cockiness falter completely. It was a thrilling, heady sensation—watching him lose control, and knowing you were the one who had done it.

Who would've thought the artist would paint you like this, huh?

See? I’m not always mean when it comes to writing Sol. I’ll admit, he’s a cutie—though, we still have some unfinished business.

✑ 𝑔𝑒𝑜

Geo’s the type whose sharp eyes catch everything.

You and Geo were on one of your usual thrift store trips, strolling down the quiet strip just a few blocks from your place. The sun was starting to dip, casting a soft golden hue over the old, eclectic shops.

Geo, however, was clearly not thrilled. He was practically dragged here, grumbling under his breath as you walked past the piles of secondhand clothes and dusty shelves.

“God, this place is a hellhole,” he muttered, his nose wrinkling as he glanced around with disgust. “It’s like someone’s idea of a landfill masquerading as a boutique.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending you didn’t hear him complain every single time. “Come on, Geo. You might actually find something cool.”

He shot you a look, his arms crossed like he was waiting for an excuse to leave. “Cool? Cool? This place is so fucking dirty. The air smells like regret and broken dreams. It’s a maze of filth,” he scoffed, making a show of wiping his hands like he'd just touched something radioactive.

You smirked, unfazed. “Well, you’ll survive. I’m taking you to one of the nicer ones today, alright? You’ve got no excuse.”

Geo shot you a side-eye, clearly unimpressed. “Expensive thrift stores are still thrift stores. Don’t try to trick me into thinking they’re anything special.”

You shrugged. “Hey, it’s cleaner. And you can’t argue with the fact that you always end up paying for everything. So really, what’s the harm?”

He groaned, clearly not thrilled with the idea, but you knew how this would go. As much as he hated it, Geo was a sucker for your little adventures. You’d pick out a few things, he’d end up covering the bill, and you’d both walk out with something—him reluctantly admitting it wasn’t all bad, though he’d never say it out loud.

“Fine,” Geo grumbled, his gaze sliding across the racks with disdain. “But if I end up covered in dust and smelling like something dead, I’m blaming you.”

You grinned, knowing exactly how it would play out.

Even if he hated it, Geo would never let you pay. As smug as he was, he always made sure you didn’t spend a dime—something about “his pride,” or whatever.

It was so classic Geo.

The soft jingling of a store’s bell announced your arrival at yet another quaint little shop, and as usual, Geo wasted no time diving into the racks. You followed behind, casually scanning the shelves for anything that caught your eye.

Geo, however, was on a mission. “Don’t even think about it,” he muttered, his eyes flickering over to the fast food stand on the corner of the street as you passed by.

“I wasn’t going to,” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

“Good.” He gave you that look—the one that screamed, I know better. The guy was an archer, after all—his entire lifestyle revolved around staying in top shape. Hell, he probably had a personal trainer on speed dial.

“Stay away from that junk,” he added, nodding toward the fast food stand, his tone like he was advising you on life or death decisions. “It’s just gonna sit on your hips.”

You shot him a teasing glance, the corner of your lips lifting. “Not everyone’s obsessed with being ‘perfect,’ you know?”

Geo huffed, a dramatic eye roll matching yours. “I’m just saying, you’ve got a good thing going,” he said, flicking his hand at your body like he was some sort of health guru. “Don’t ruin it with greasy fries and burgers.”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were the authority on perfection. Should I start taking notes on your diet and workout routine?”

Geo shrugged, before looking at a rack of clothes, “I mean,” he said nonchalantly, “if you want to look like me, sure.”

“You’re so humble,” you shot back sarcastically, you shook your head, amused at how seriously he took it all.

After a few more minutes of browsing, you spotted a cute outfit in the corner and grabbed it, excited to try it on. You made your way to the fitting rooms, with Geo trailing behind. He stayed near the entrance, leaning against the wall like he couldn’t care less about what you were doing. But you knew better—he was always paying attention. Even when he tried to act bored, his eyes still flickered around, making sure everything was in place.

It was one of the things that made Geo so undeniably… Geo.

Once inside the fitting room, you stared at yourself in the mirror, a familiar wave of self-doubt creeping up on you. The outfit fit fine—better than fine, really—but something about it didn’t feel right. You pulled at the fabric, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, but your eyes kept drifting to the parts of yourself you didn’t quite love. The parts you wished you could change.

The outfit? It was cute.

You just… weren’t sure you were. Maybe you do eat too much fast food, you thought, your fingers lightly brushing your stomach as your insecurities whispered in the back of your mind.

As you stared at your reflection, lost in your own head, the soft scrape of the curtain being pushed aside snapped you out of it. You turned quickly, heart skipping a beat, expecting an employee. But no—it was just Geo, tall and unimpressed, his sharp eyes flicking over the cramped fitting room like it offended him. He stood there like he owned the place, his arms crossed, with his usual air of perpetual irritation.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” you snapped, defensive and flustered.

Geo didn’t even flinch. His tone was dry, like he was bored of the question already. “You’re taking forever. And... you sounded upset. Figured I’d come in before you started crying and ruined the outfit.”

You rolled your eyes. “Geo, you can’t just barge in—”

“I just did.”

He stepped inside fully, letting the curtain fall behind him. The air in the small space changed the second he did. It was suddenly warmer. Closer. He scanned you from head to toe, but not in a crude way—he was calculating, studying, like he was mapping out your insecurities before you could say them aloud.

You crossed your arms over your chest instinctively.

“You look fine,” he said, blunt as ever. “Better than fine, actually. But you're standing there like you're about to throw up.”

You looked away. “It’s just— I don’t feel…”

Geo exhaled through his nose, annoyed, stepping in until he was right in front of you. He reached out, uninvited but unthreatening, and adjusted the strap of your top, letting his knuckles brush your shoulder. The touch was light, almost imperceptible. But it grounded you. He always knew how to do that—make a mess feel stable without saying much at all.

“Shut up,” he said gently, though the edge in his voice never softened. “You're fine. You always are.”

But that wasn’t enough. Not today.

You pulled away, sinking onto the small bench in the corner, your face twisting with something hurt and frustrated.

“You’re always such an asshole,” you muttered, arms crossing tightly. “I should’ve taken Crowe with me on this thifting trip. At least he wouldn’t make me feel like garbage.”

That stopped him.

Geo stared at you. Not in anger. Not even in annoyance. Just… still. Then, quietly, he crouched down in front of you, folding his long limbs with unnatural grace, eyes level with yours. It was startling. Geo never lowered himself. Never came down to anyone’s level.

He didn’t believe in it. And yet—here he was.

Sitting in front of you like he was trying to offer you something raw.

“You want me to say sorry,” he said, more a statement than a question.

And you… nodded. Slowly. Hesitantly. Because yeah, it did hurt. You didn’t care what most people thought of your body. But him? He could wound you without even trying.

He sighed again, but not in exasperation. In surrender. “Fine,” he said suddenly, voice barely above a murmur, “we can have fast food.”

You blinked, stunned. That was so not the point—but before you could respond, his hand lifted.

His fingers—rough, calloused from years of archery and too many fights—skimmed lightly along the side of your neck. A breath caught in your throat. He traced the curve of your collarbone, like he was memorizing it all over again. Deliberate. Gentle. And then he touched the chain you wore—the one he gave you.

The pad of his thumb ran along the charm resting just above your heart, as if to remind you: he chose this for you. A twin to the one hidden beneath the collar of his hoodie, always worn, never shown. Just like his affection.

“You like where we go,” he said, voice low and steady, “You like the way I treat you when we’re out. I know you do.”

Your breath hitched, eyes wide, lips parting—but he was already closing the space between you.

“You like,” he continued, leaning forward, “that I know what makes you feel safe…”

And then his face—his sharp, pretty face—pressed into the curve of your shoulder blade. Not your shoulder. Not your collar. But the space right between—intimate, vulnerable. The tip of his nose grazed your skin, breath warm as it spilled across your back.

“I know what makes you feel good,” he whispered, the words shaped more from instinct than desire, “what makes you feel wanted… even when I don’t know how to want people the way everyone else does.”

You felt the shift before you saw it—his body bracketing yours, hand pressed to the wall beside your head.

Not caging. Not crowding. Protecting.

Always that careful restraint, like he was made of sharp edges but would never dare cut you.

“I’ll say sorry,” he murmured, voice rough silk, his lips so close now they practically breathed against your skin, “a thousand times if that’s what it takes. For making you think I see you as anything less. I don’t.”

He pulled back just far enough to meet your eyes, and when he did—God. Geo didn’t just look at you. He studied you.

His expression stayed unreadable, that same carved stone stoicism—but his gaze roamed, reverent and scorching, memorizing the parts of you he’d always admired but rarely said aloud.

“You don’t get it,” he said, voice lower now, almost reverent.

“I see everything.”

His eyes flicked downward. Not in a crude way—no. It was hungrier than that and deeper. A slow drag of attention across the slope of your shoulders, the curve of your chest, the way your waist dipped into your hips. Every place your body softened, or pressed tight against your clothes, or creased when you moved—he drank it in like he owned the knowledge of you.

“Doesn’t matter what you're wearing. You could be in a hoodie three sizes too big or nothing at all, and I’d still be trying to memorize the way it fits around you.”

His hand ghosted along your side, not quite touching, but it made your skin light up anyway.

“I’ll let you hit me, if that’ll help,” he said, and this time his voice cracked, just a little. “I’ll get on my knees. I’ll beg.”

You could feel it—his tension.

The weight of it in the way his jaw clenched, like it killed him to say that but he meant it.

“Whatever you need,” he said again, eyes flicking to your lips. “You can wear anything. I’ll still admire you for it. Every damn time. And I’ll keep buying you old and used shit if it makes you feel good.”

His head tilted, eyes narrowing, locking onto yours with that signature deadpan focus—cold, but not cruel. Just… impossibly precise. As if the rest of the world had blurred, and only you remained in focus.

“…But don’t pretend like you want anyone else but me,” he added, voice dipping. Something raw coiled underneath the words.

Possessive. Territorial. “Especially that charmer.” That last word landed like an arrow—clean, direct, and deliberate. It struck where it was meant to, buried deep.

“That’s the only thing I won’t apologize for.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your lips parted slightly, but nothing came out. Your face was burning, heat creeping down your neck, blooming across your chest. And your heart—God, your heart was a mess of stuttering beats and heavy thuds, too loud, too much.

Still, you held his gaze. Those sharp, hunter’s eyes—focused, unflinching. An archer’s eyes. The kind that made you feel bare and known and hunted all at once.

Okay… maybe you did feel a bit better.

Because Geo never missed his mark, certainly not with you.

Blushing at this part… didn’t think it would land that hard—damn.

✑ 𝒽𝓎𝓊𝑔𝑜

Hyugo’s the type who always had a way of touching you.

The textbooks were open, sure. Highlighters are scattered across the coffee table. There were even half-finished online flashcards pulled up on your phone.

But the studying?

Yeah, that died the moment Hyugo showed up with that lazy grin and a bag of snacks he definitely wasn’t supposed to bring near the couch.

“You know,” you said, nudging him with your knee as he flopped beside you, “we’re supposed to be reviewing the chapter on cognitive development, not watching cat videos on your phone.”

He didn’t even flinch. “I’m multitasking,” Hyugo said, one hand holding up his phone as a kitten somersaulted across the screen, the other casually reaching into the bag of chips. “Besides, you said we were studying. I already finished that unit last night.”

You blinked at him. “You what?”

“Yep,” he popped the ‘p’ smugly. “Got bored. Knocked it out at like, 2AM.”

“You—? Hyugo, we have a test today. You’re supposed to be panicking with me, not acting like it’s optional.”

He finally set his phone down, turning to you with that annoyingly bright, cheerful face of his—the one that screamed, I’m way too charming to ever suffer consequences. “Why would I panic? I’ve got you. Worst case, I cheat off your paper.”

You shoved his shoulder, and he laughed, leaning his head back against the couch like he hadn’t just confessed to academic fraud.

“You’re such a menace.”

“Yeah, but I’m your menace.” He grinned sideways at you, hair slightly messed up from how he’d flopped into the cushions. “Besides, don’t act like you don’t like having me around when you’re stressed. I make good noise-cancelling background static.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I know.” He winked. “That’s why you let me distract you instead of forcing me to open a textbook.”

“Because I know you’ll ace it anyway.” You paused, sighing. “Seriously though, how do you always finish everything without looking like you try?”

Hyugo shrugged, eyes twinkling. “Magic. Or maybe I just hyperfixate until it’s done and forget to eat in the process. Who’s to say?”

You just stared at him for a beat, then leaned over to steal a chip from his bag. “I hope you fail the extra credit.”

“I won’t,” he said smugly, popping another chip into his mouth, “but thanks for the emotional support, babe.”

You rolled your eyes, frustration building as you tried to explain Piaget’s stages of development for the third time. You were so close to getting your point across, but then—there it was. That subtle shift in the air. Hyugo. You didn’t even need to look up to know what was happening. He was moving again. Not loudly, not jarringly, just that soft, insistent motion of his body sliding closer to yours.

Before you could even finish your sentence, his legs stretched out across the couch, and his head was nestled in your lap like it was his damn birthright.

“…Hyugo,” you warned, voice flat, trying to keep some semblance of focus while a textbook balanced precariously on your knees, the edge just missing the top of his head.

He didn’t even acknowledge you at first.

“Shh,” he hummed, his eyes already closed, the tips of his lashes grazing the tops of his cheeks, his expression soft and relaxed. "I study better like this."

“No, you don’t,” you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief.

"You don’t even study."

“I observe,” he replied nonchalantly, voice thick with that lazy calm he always had when he was too comfortable. “And absorb. Osmosis.”

You sighed heavily, rolling your eyes so far back you thought they might stay there.

But still—despite everything, you didn’t push him off. Not yet.

Your hand, as if on its own, drifted to his hair. It was a habit by now. His hair was always so warm, so soft, and you hated how comforting it felt between your fingers. He smelled like faint citrus and clean laundry, a scent that reminded you of sunlight on a lazy afternoon, wrapped up in hoodie form. It was ridiculous how nice he smelled.

And then, it happened.

Slowly, carefully, with the kind of audacity only Hyugo could get away with, he turned just enough to press his face into your stomach. His arms slid around your waist, pulling you in like you were a pillow he had no intention of letting go.

He just… settled there.

His body was warm and secure against you, like he’d staked his claim and expected you to accept it.

It was so casual, so effortless, that you almost didn’t know how to react. But your body knew. It tensed instantly like you had no control over how it responded to his touch. He was too close. Too present. The heat of him spreading across your skin made your breath catch, and your spine went rigid, all the while you were desperately trying to keep your composure.

The book you’d been holding slipped off your knees, tumbling onto the floor with a quiet thud. You didn’t even have the mental space to care. Instead, all you could focus on was the weight of his head against your stomach, the feel of his arms around you like some kind of anchor. His presence was all-consuming, and somehow you could never quite get used to it.

You didn’t understand why Hyugo was always touching you. You didn’t mind it, not in the way you should’ve. It wasn’t that it annoyed you—hell, there were times it felt like you didn’t mind it at all.

But why? Why did he always need to be so close?

You weren’t even sure why you didn’t push him off when you knew you should. Was he really that confident? Did he not see how ridiculous it was for someone like him to be so affectionate with someone like you?

You looked down at him, his face pressed against your stomach like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he could do this forever if you’d let him.

But how could anyone, especially him, be into someone like you?

Someone who was all sharp edges and curves and things that made you uncomfortable in your skin? How could he adore you the way he did when you didn’t even understand how to adore yourself?

And yet… you couldn’t help it.

The warmth of his body against yours, his gentle breath on your skin, it was like a constant reassurance. His affection, so soft, so unrelenting, was like a force you couldn’t escape.

Hyugo’s voice broke the silence then, soft and rumbling as if he sensed your thoughts and wanted to ground you in the present.

“You’re so quiet when I do this,” he muttered, his arms tightening around you just a little more. “

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, huh?” He added.

You swallowed hard, unsure how to explain. You didn’t know if you could even put it into words. “I—don’t get it,” you said, your voice almost a whisper. “Why are you always so close? I’m… I’m not like others, Hyugo.”

He pressed his face deeper onto your stomach, his eyes steady, warm, and intense. His gaze softened, that familiar tenderness you couldn’t seem to escape.

“Hyugo—” You pushed at his shoulder gently, a warning, a tremble in your voice you didn’t mean to let out. “Don’t. Stop”

He stopped moving. If anything, he just held you tighter.

“Stop it,” you whispered again, more to yourself than him, hating how your voice cracked. “That’s not fair.”

“Why?” His voice was muffled against your shirt, soft and steady. “Because I love you too much?”

You tried to pull back again, your hands moving to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie. The movement was instinctive—trying to push him off, just a little space between you. But, damn it, he didn’t budge. Hyugo, always so damn stubborn, always so strong. Why was this short shit so damn solid?

His hand, warm and steady, slid down to the side of your hip, his touch slow, intentional, like he was tracing the outline of your body in the way only he could. Every inch of your skin, every curve, every line, he made it feel like it was meant to be touched.

You bit your lip, trying not to show how his closeness was making your heart pound. You weren’t sure why you still hesitated. But his warmth against your stomach was undeniable—something in the way he pressed his face into you felt different, familiar, like he belonged there.

"You don’t get to say that when you do this," you whispered, your voice small against the growing pressure of his presence.

"Not when I’m like this."

Hyugo shifted, his hand resting at your waist as if he could hold you there forever. "Like what?" he asked, voice low and curious, his gaze never leaving yours.

You didn’t answer, because, honestly, you couldn’t.

He knew what you meant. Hyugo always knew.

His breath hitched, and then there was the softest exhale like he was absorbing every moment, every inch of you beneath his touch. He always paid attention. So much attention.

"You think I haven’t noticed?" His voice was barely a whisper now, but it sent a shiver through your body. "You get quiet every time I touch you here," he murmured, his hand grazing your side, just enough to remind you of how it felt to be seen. "Like I’m not supposed to. Like I’ll notice something you don’t want me to see."

You tried to look away, but his eyes, those baby blue, soft eyes, never let you escape. You swallowed hard, heart thumping in your chest. He was so close, and everything about him made it impossible to hide how he was slowly unraveling you, piece by piece.

His fingers brushed your curves again, gently, as if exploring, and in that touch was a world of affection that you couldn’t deny.

“I love the way you feel,” he added, his voice tinged with something deeper than casual flirtation. "The way you’re built, the way your body speaks without saying a word. You have strength in every inch of you. And, that’s what gets to me. You don’t have to hide any part of you from me.”

Your stomach clenched, and this time it wasn’t with discomfort but with something that felt like relief—a soft weight that you didn’t realize you’d been carrying until now.

He wasn’t judging. He was worshipping.

Every curve of your body, every part of you he touched, he made it feel like you were a masterpiece in his eyes.

You didn’t say anything. How could you?

His words were making you feel too seen, too cared for, too cherished.

You never imagined this kind of affection would feel so overwhelming, so soft. His affection wrapped around you like a blanket.

"I’m not leaving," he murmured again, as his hands pulled you closer, wrapping around you like a shield, as if to say, I’ve got you. "You can hate it. You can push me away. But I’m staying. I won’t let you shrink back into yourself."

Your hands trembled against his chest, and his gaze softened even further if that was even possible.

“You don’t get to apologize for parts of you I already love,” he said, his voice a little hoarse now, each word carrying weight, like a promise. "I will cling to you like a damn leech because I want you to see yourself the way I see you. I want you to feel it. Feel the love I’m giving you until it seeps into your bones. Until your body feels the love, too."

His hand moved again, caressing the curve of your hip in slow, soft and slow strokes, as though he had all the time in the world to make you feel the warmth of his touch. There was a tenderness there that made you breathless, like he was trying to imprint that love into your very skin.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he murmured softly, his genuine words making your heart flutter. “Don’t let anyone—especially yourself—tell you otherwise.”The way he said it, so casually, but with such an unwavering certainty, made your throat tighten.

You didn’t know how to process it, how to take in all the love he was offering.

It was too much. But in the best way.

His fingertips traced the line of your waist, a careful, intentional touch that sent a shiver through you. His body pressed so close to yours that you could feel the heat of his own skin, and that heat felt like a balm for every insecurity you’d ever harbored.

“Your body,” he continued, his voice soft but firm, “is a reflection of your strength, of your warmth.”

It was impossible to ignore the way those words resonated deep within you. He wasn’t just talking about your curves or the way your body felt beneath his hands.

He was talking about your spirit, your strength, the way you carried yourself in a world that often tried to tell you you weren’t enough.

You felt a flush creeping up your neck, a heat that had nothing to do with his touch and everything to do with the way his words were making you feel. The tightness in your chest only seemed to grow, a mixture of vulnerability and something else—something more powerful that you weren’t quite ready to admit.

“And I’ll be here,” he added, his voice softening even further, “always, loving you for every inch of it."

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes for a moment, trying to absorb everything he was giving you. The way he saw you, the way he adored every inch of you, it hit you deeper than you ever expected.

It made your heartache in the best way—this raw, aching love that you couldn’t escape, even if you wanted to.

And still, he didn’t let you go.

Hyugo’s arms remained wrapped around you, strong and secure, holding you close as though he never wanted to let you slip away.

It was like he was trying to make sure you never forgot how beautiful you were, how worthy of love you were. You couldn’t help but marvel at the way he held you like you were his teddy bear, his safe place. A person with a baby face like his, always so soft and warm, but with a heart that could hold the weight of your world.

He had a way of making you feel safe, cherished—like you were the most important thing in his life, and nothing would ever change that.

His presence was like sunlight, his affection the warmth you never knew you needed. And in that moment, as he held you there, you realized something:

Hyugo needed you, because, after all, you were his happiness.

I may have a few favorites when it comes to writing Geo and Hyugo…

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thetinyblossom-archived · 11 months ago

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Agere community we need to talk.

[Text ID: Agere community we need to talk. End ID]

I have noticed a huge rise in UNCREDITED and STOLEN works; it being art, edits, collages etc

Specially reposts on Tumblr and Pinterest

Examples:

*Original artists that had their work stolen: @regressionworldz and @cutiecorner

This post is a guide about internet etiquette and crediting

[Text ID: This post is a guide about internet etiquette and crediting. End ID]

1. How to NOT steal stuff!

Any work with the tag “Free to use” (also known as “F2U”) means that they are allowed to be reposted, used in collages, edits etc. Just check if credits are needed!

*Important addition (that I can’t believe I had to add):

* “Why does this matter?” “Can’t you just ask where they got it from?”

It’s a question of politeness and fairness, yes, someone can ask where that piece is from but it’s not a guaranteed answer, people can lie and people can forget!

Also, people might see it and take it at face value, think the post belongs to that person when it doesn’t

Adding to that, there’s folks that do not want their work reposted for many reasons!

To top it off, heres the issue of the original creators not getting the attention they deserve, imagine that you spent hours on a piece just for it to be stolen and that post getting more attention then your own original post, that one you worked hours for it to, to be just the way you wanted it to be, that would upset you wouldn’t it?

Overall, crediting and asking to repost is just the polite thing to do

For Artworks:

Your first need to check if the artist allows reposting of their work or the use of them for collages, if they allow, then you link to their original post and state who drew the pics of art

For GIF’s + non-product photos:

Credit to the original post! Or at least as far back as you can find it!

Usually photos of products such as toys, plushies, accessories etc made by big brands are easy to spot and know where they came from (ex: blogs that post PNG’s usually don’t need to credit all their sources), but, small business/hand crafted works should always be credited!

Reposting moodboards:

Similar to artworks, first ask permission to repost, if allowed link to the original creator!

“But they said “no”!”:

Then don’t do it! Even with credits! Don’t do it! Is as simple as that! Respect others right to say no!

2. How do I identify stolen work?

There are many giveaways of stolen posts, such as:

• Low photo quality

• Watermarks that don’t match

• Lack of information about what was made (for who it was etc)

• Unable to answer simple questions such as what brush they used or long it took

Examples:

3. What do i do if my work was stolen?

1. Inform the person that it’s your work and to either remove it or credit them

2. If it’s still not credited or taken down, report their post

3. If the report didn’t go anywhere or if the account is still doing it to yours and others content, please make an awareness post about it. Strength comes in numbers after all!

4. Overall…

Let’s stop with this unpleasant and rude act of stealing others work!

I really hate to see that on our community, please, inform more people about it and report any acc that profits of others uncredited/stolen content!

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lukadrienmonth · 22 days ago

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2025 calendar for Lukadrien June!

As a reminder, we're doing 15 prompts for the month! So that means, there's a prompt for every other day. A gentle reminder that you don't have to do every prompt or even do them on their assigned days. Go crazy and have fun with the prompts.

Rules:

This is a salt free event. This includes harsh criticisms of the show, characters, ships or fandoms involved. Any kind of hate will not be tolerated and will not be reblogged. Please be respectful.

Fics, art, playlists, edits, cosplay and other creative mediums are all welcome. Please make sure to tag us properly so we can reblog your hard work.

No AI - generated content. It's a safety factor for us as creators to not allow AI to learn how we do things and show our own creativity instead of relying on a program. We ask that you respect that by posting things you have created yourself. A reminder that you don't need to feel rushed to post on the day and turn to AI programs to finish or start your work. We're more than happy with whatever you can produce naturally.

We ask that there be no poly ships that include Lukadrien. There are other events that would cover ships such as those and we want to focus on just these two. Feel totally free to have other couples in your posts, but we ask the main focus be on Lukadrien.

As such, alternate personas of the boys are allowed, so feel free to add them in.

The tags for this event are #lukadrienmonth, #lukadrienjune2025, #lukadrienjune. We also ask that you tag the blog @lukadrienmonth

We will allow NSFW, but please have it under ‘Keep Reading’ line and properly tag it with #lukadreinmonthNSFW

If your submissions has a spoiler from a recent episode, please tag or make a note of it. While this mod stopped at S3, a lot of people are still watching the show through. I'll try to keep an eye on when the episodes are released to let you know what episode has been released, so you can tag accordingly.

And finally, have fun! As mentioned, you don’t have to post everyday or even use the prompts given for the day it’s assigned.

Prompts listed below cut.

Day 1-2: Kwami Swap

Day 3-4: Sunshine

Day 5-6: Childhood Friends

Day 7-8: Tutor

Day 9-10: Villain Couple

Day 11-12: Clothing Swap

Day 13-14: Guardian Adrien AU

Day 15-16: Safe

Day 17-18: Jealous

Day 19-20: Miracle

Day 21-22: Concert

Day 23-24: Grief

Day 25-26: Family

Day 27-28: Purpose

Day 29-30: Wedding/Honeymoon

That's right, Day 29-30 has 2 options! You can do either one or both, if it chooses you're fancy. I'm so excited to see what you guys come up with come June!

#lukadrienjune #miraculous fandom #miraculous ladybug #lukadrienmonth #lukadrien #lukadrienjune2025

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zia-saturn · 10 months ago

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Vibe [AU fic] Intro

SUMMARY: You offered to take Shigaraki's virginity. You wondered how he was going to fulfill your sexual appetite. You could tell he was eager to please. You roused something in him, an insatiable man that could not get enough of you. You had Shigaraki so sprung like crazy.

Virgin! Shigaraki/ Thicc! Reader

Virgin! Shigaraki/ Curvy! Reader

18+ readers only

❌MDNI❌

[DISCLAIMER: The characters respectfully belongs to the creator of 僕のヒーローアカデミア Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia, Kohei Horikoshi.

All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of the respective owners. The author of the fanfiction is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.]

MATURE CONTENT WARNING: This fanfiction is intended for mature audiences only.

This story contains explicit adult sexual content. If you are easily offended or are under the age of 18, please leave now. Reader discretion is advised.

•••°°°°••••°°°°••••

"Where in the hell is he?" You stepped out of the doors of the lecture hall, tapping your thumb on the keypad to your phone. You checked what time it was on the screen. It was almost the late morning, going into the early afternoon hours.

As your last lecture came to an end that day, you had plans to meet up with your partner for your project that was assigned to the both of you by your professor.

Shigaraki Tomura was the person who you were partnered with. You tried to get a good look at him but his face was mostly obscured by his long, ruffled cyan hair and black hoodie. His head was panned down as his eyes stared at his notebook throughout the entire lecture.

If you were fast enough, you could find him.

Or so you hoped.

But still, you knew that there was a possibility that he couldn't have gotten that far in such a short amount of time. You underestimated his ability to slip away undetected into the crowd. Immediately, you could feel a hint of annoyance begin to grow.

The stress of having demanding courses, running an online side business, working a day job and graduating was getting to you. There was definitely a heavy load on your shoulders. You hardly had any time to sit down and blink your eyes for a lousy few seconds. Your life after graduation would be even tougher as you would be entering nursing school.

One of the few things that brought comfort to you was Spring Break. That was one of your most favorite times of the year. You along with other friends had the money saved up to travel to the Bahamas that year. Things always get wild each and every Spring Break vacation you go on. Just recalling the memories made you blush and a bit wet from time to time.

The previous year was a vacation that you will most definitely hold dear to your heart and your libido. It was full of exhibitionism, voyeurism and non-stop sex marathons day in and day out. You had most of your sexual crusades saved on video in your phone. Once in a while, you like to watch videos of yourself getting fucked as you spend your lone nights pounding yourself with your favorite ribbed dildo.

•••°°°°••••°°°°••••

You stopped at a cafe nearby the campus to grab yourself two strawberry cheese Danishes to go. The wait was about three to four minutes. You politely thanked the employees at the cash register and bid them a good day.

As you turned to leave the cafe, your eyes caught the sight of an individual sitting at the corner of the cafe, near the back. It looked like he had chosen that seat so that nobody would bother him, almost as if he was sequestering himself from the other patrons on purpose.

The first thing you noticed about him was his very pale skin. It was almost translucent. He was quite thin as well. He wore an oversized black hoodie that was pulled over his head so that you barely noticed his tousled locks of cyan hued hair.

You immediately recognized him from class. What a relief that you were able to find him without going through any kind of extensive searching and scouring around the entire campus. All of his attention was towards his phone that he had in his hand. He was so immersed in the screen that he did not even notice that you were walking towards him.

"Oh! Thank goodness I found you." You sighed, feeling at ease. "You left before I had the chance to talk to you. I wanted to discuss the group project that we were assigned earlier." You clutched your books against your chest. A cute taupe pleather purse was strapped to your shoulders with your pastries safely wrapped inside of it.

His head shot up as soon as he heard your voice. It took one second to gather your thoughts when his eyes met yours. You hardly saw a person with scarlet eyes before. You wondered if he wore contact lenses or if those red eyes were his natural eye color.

"Hmm? Oh yeah. I almost forgot about that." The blue haired young man muttered under his breath before turning his attention back to his phone.

You noticed how standoffish he was but it wasn't a personal snub towards you. He displayed the same behavior towards everybody he crossed paths with.

You were concerned about his flippant attitude towards the project because it would count for a huge chunk of your grade. It was important for you to graduate with an excellent GPA.

"So, you almost forgot about it? Well, I'm already stressing out about it and it's hardly been thirty minutes since class was dismissed. I need to pass the course with flying colors. I'm a senior. This is my last semester here. I graduate this coming May. I am going for my bachelors and after, I'm planning on going to nursing school to become a registered nurse." You explained to him, tucking a lone strand of hair behind your ear. He did not budge when he heard your statement.

"If you don't mind me asking, what year are you in?" You asked Tomura in an attempt to make small talk. Creating a sense of familiarity through constant communication was an excellent way to build a healthy partnership with another person. You genuinely wanted to get to know him. It was important that you were able to break the ice with him.

Tomura, on the other hand, felt the opposite. His prejudgments and assumptions lead him to believe that you were like all of the other ditzy whores running around campus. He was certain that you were trying to exploit him for resources or his intelligence. You seemed like the type. Otherwise, why would a pretty lady like you be talking to him? The bitter raging cynic in him told him to put all his emotional walls up around him.

"Sophomore." Tomura simply stated.

He really did not notice you in his class but he really did not notice anyone in general. His main focus was getting the course material, taking the necessary notes and then leaving before anyone had the chance to speak to him. He tried his best to avoid socializing because that was definitely not his strong suit.

However, that did not stop him from observing you from head to toe.

Plump glossy lips, doe shaped eyes, long thick wavy hair and hourglass shape? Even though you wore loose fitting hospital scrubs, your curves were still noticeable, especially your backside. Your ass was nice and round and your thighs were another story. They were thick and juicy. You were a whole snack.

You took a seat and sat in front of him. You had a few minutes to spare before your shift at the University's hospital were to start. "I don't mean to bug you but, I would just like to know our general plans for the project. We could worry about the details later."

Tomura's was so relieved that the project did not have any speaking parts. That part was optional. "Well, you don't have to worry about that. I'll do 90 percent of the work if that's what you want."

You frowned slightly at his assumption of you being lazy. The man did not know you from a can of paint. If he walked a mile in your shoes for just one day, he would know how much of your schedule consisted of non-stop work day in and day out. There was an itch inside of you that wanted to give him a piece of your mind and set him straight.

Tomura definitely lacked a lot in the personality and the socialization department. You wanted to be mature about this and find a way to reach some kind of middle ground with him.

"Listen." The tone in your voice was much stern than before but you were able to remain calm. "I really want to contribute to the project. I would feel like a failure if I just let you do all the work yourself. This is supposed to be teamwork. I'm willing to work with you if you would just give me a chance." As you finished your statement, you sat up straight and crossed your arms.

Tomura just blinked his eyes and observed your body language. His curiosity about you began to grow. There was something about the way you showed your confidence when it came to voicing your needs and expectations.

"I guess we could work together if you're willing to do your share. You seem genuine enough." He gave a stiff nod of approval.

"What makes you think that I wasn't being genuine in the first place?" Your tone was a bit softer.

"I don't feel like explaining myself but, women in the past usually left most of the workload up to me and just pretended as if I did not exist once they got what they wanted from me…" He explained with a hint of bitterness in his tone. It made him angry just recalling what happened in the past.

"So, you just assumed that I was going to do the same thing to you? Is that it?" Your eyes narrowed a bit, trying to remain sympathetic towards him.

"To be honest? Yes." He bluntly answered, crossing his arms.

"Well, I'm not like them." You rolled your eyes at his subtle hostility. "Not all women are the same just like all men aren't the same. I believe in the philosophy of 'treat others how you would like to be treated'. Like I said before, I'm willing to work with you if you're willing to cooperate with me."

"Ah. Smart, genuine and pretty. I don't see any of your types around here too often." Tomura tossed you a snide smirk your way.

"Trust me; there are plenty of women who are very beautiful and kind hearted out there in the world. It would not hurt to step outside more and socialize." Then, you checked your phone for the time. You had about two minutes before you had to leave for work.

Tomura made a grunt of annoyance and checked his phone too. He did not want anyone to tell him what to do or where to go. He absolutely hated going outside, not to mention his socializing skills were terribly weak, almost non-existent. He spent most of his free time cooped up in his dorm gaming and studying.

You quietly observed Tomura as he took his free hand to scratch his nails onto the flesh on the side of his neck to satiate the irritating itch that was bugging him ever since you began speaking to him.

It was apparent that he was dealing with some personal issues that had him in the state that he was in. Everything from his skin to his physical stature was in need of some positive modification of care. You wanted to give Tomura some advice on how to improve his physical health but, you decided that it would be best to keep your comments to yourself. That did not stop you from being concerned for him. It seemed like he could use a positive influence in his life. He could use a person who could help him get out of his shell.

However, you could definitely be of some assistance when it came to his skin care. Most of his exposed flesh looked so dry and flaky, especially around his mouth.

"I noticed that you have the habit of scratching your neck. Is there anything wrong? Is it a rash?" You asked Tomura.

"Um…" Tomura's eyes darted downwards, focusing on his foot as he tried his best to avoid making eye contact with you. It was evident that he was ashamed of his habit. "It's kinda…hard to explain."

Your observation wasn't meant to be taken as scorn or criticism against him and you wanted him to know that. "Sweetie. I would highly suggest that you stop because your skin could get infected or you might give yourself a permanent scar around that area. I could give you some of my custom made home remedies for skin care. They're all handmade and mixed by me. I usually sell them online just to make some extra cash on the side."

Tomura kept quiet as he glared at you with suspicion.

"Don't worry. It's not a pyramid scheme and I'm not trying to recruit you into anything. I am the boss of my own side business and I work for no one but myself. No one is working above me or beneath me. I am the sole proprietor. As a matter of fact, I will give you some of my products free of charge." You assured him with a friendly smile.

Tomura did not know what to think about your kind gesture. It really confused him for a moment and he had trouble finding proper words to say to you. "Oh really? I mean, you really don't have to—"

"I know I don't have to, but I want to." You reassured him, placing a hand gently on top of his. You wanted to show him that you meant well by him and that you actually cared for him.

This was a VERY rare occurrence of a beautiful woman showing enough interest to even help him with anything. You were so kind and patient towards him.

However, a hint of cynicism kept prodding his thoughts.

Then…

Those cynical thoughts spiraled and led him to accusing you of feeling pity for him as if he was a sad charity case that had no hope in life. Afterwards, there came a flood of self defeating thoughts. Those thoughts usually held him back from moving further in life as far as relationships and friendships were concerned.

This was feeling a bit too intense for him at the moment. He needed the time to process the events that just took place.

"I will let you know if I need anything." He stated in a curt tone.

You had the feeling that he was overwhelmed so you decided to leave him alone to have his space. Besides, it was time for you to head off to work anyway.

You stood up from your chair and bid him a good day. "Okay. I'll see you next week."

Tomura meekly waved at you and watched you leave the cafe. His scarlet eyes noticed how your hips and ass swayed from side to side as you walked out. He thought your little stroll was the sexiest thing he has ever seen so far. It had a natural seductive rhythm to it.

That was a vision that would certainly linger in his mind before he fell asleep tonight. It was the image that will be the cause of him waking up the next morning with his legs and thighs covered in his own cum.

•••°°°°••••°°°°••••

One week later….

You stood by the door of the lecture hall with your thumbs tapping away at your phone, waiting for class to start. Class would not start for another twenty minutes but you always liked to arrive earlier than expected. Your business e-mail was absolutely clogged with different requests, special orders and warehouse inventory related messages. It would take you forever to reply to all of them but, you had to pace yourself so you won't get so overwhelmed to the point of burning yourself out.

"So…you're quite early today."

Tomura's voice snapped you out of your little busy mental bubble.

"Oh. Hey there." You giggled quietly, your mind still preoccupied with your e-mails. You managed to rapidly tap out in the last reply to one of your messages before you gave your full attention to your classmate.

"I'm sorry if I seem distracted. Work is piling on me. I can't catch a break to save my life." You tried to laugh off the stress. A long nap was calling your name once you had the chance to reach your apartment that night.

"It seems like you have a lot on your plate." Tomura sighed, slowly taking a step towards you.

"I do. Lord, give me the strength." You looked up towards the ceiling and clasped your hands together before piteously giggling.

He just chuckled. He found your humor to be cute. It only intrigued him more.

"Um…" He began, but went silent.

A few awkward seconds of silence followed. He cursed himself for not being able to have enough balls to continue the rest of the conversation.

"How was the rest of your week?" You asked him.

"It was alright…I guess. I managed to gather some useful source material for the research part. Now, I just have to begin the written report."

"Oh? I was thinking that I could take care of that part."

"Are you sure? I don’t want to put any more workload on you. You seem really busy with other important things, especially with your other classes and your jobs." He scratched the back of his head, looking down at his own sneakers. He avoided making any eye contact for more than a second.

"Ah. That reminds me. Would it be cool if we could trade phone numbers?" You prepared your thumb to tap his number and confirm it into your contact list.

He felt shocked that you asked him for his number first. Then again, phones are the easiest way to keep in contact with anyone in this day and age. Besides, he did not want to read too much into your request. He reminded himself that this exchange was for academic purposes, not for anything personal nor romantic. "Yeah. Sure."

You called him to make sure your number appeared on his screen. It did and he proceeded to save your number with your name in his own contact list.

•••°°°°••••°°°°••••

An hour and a half later…

After class, you two agreed to meet up in the library to discuss the project in much greater detail. During that time at the library, Tomura felt more at ease working with you but his nervousness was still there. Your aura was so friendly and inviting which made it easier for him to become more engaging with you as time went on. It made it a comfortable environment for him.

In some instances, his mind dozed off and he stared at your face. You were so pretty to him. He zeroed in on your lips whenever you spoke.

They were so soft…

So supple…

He wondered how they would feel wrapped around his cock. Very dirty and sordid thoughts swirled around his mind and they did not stop. They just got filthier and filthier by the second.

Damn. What would it look like to see you beg for him to fuck you after he finished painting his cum all over those sexy lips of you?

Then, his mind as well as his eyes drifted towards your breasts. On that day, you wore a tight spandex long sleeve shirt with a bit of cleavage showing with a pair of tight denim jeans that complimented your hips, thighs and ass very well.

Would you beg for him to splatter his thick cum all over your gorgeous breasts? One could only imagine. How would your ass feel once you made yourself comfortable in his lap? It would feel so soft and warm. Yes it would. He decided it would feel soft and warm.

You noticed Tomura practically leering at you and you had to constantly remind the young man to stay focused on the project.

Of course, he would incessantly apologize for losing sight of the important task at hand. You forgave him but sternly warned him to pay attention to the project. He would gladly obey your instructions. There was something really enticing with the way you would take charge and give orders.

Your stay lasted for about an hour before you decided to call it a day.

Your partner just leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms before giving out a large yawn. “Fuck, man. I can’t wait till this project is done and over with. I hate class projects. I really hate working with other people because they annoy me so much.” He recited that statement with a tired sigh.

“Do I annoy you?” You gently smiled at him. “Maybe, I should be next time.”

“I’m just pleasantly surprised at how smooth things went today. I really enjoyed working with you and that’s not something that I usually tell anyone.” He scratched his neck again.

“Oh? Is that so?” You arched an eyebrow up in curiosity. You wanted him to elaborate and you waited for him to do so.

Tomura almost flinched when his hand was gently pulled away from his neck and nestled in yours. Your hand felt so soft and you smelled so sweet. Then, he recalled what you told him the other day about quitting his habit of scratching. The gesture you just displayed was a reminder to him to stop. Your thumb caressed the top of his hand.

“Well…yeah.” He stuttered. His heartbeat picked up a bit. You made him so nervous. At the same time, he felt a sense of comfort. Your presence gave him a feeling of solace. It was so confusing to him.

“I have something to give you.” You turned your back to him for a minute to retrieve an item from your purse. It was a brand new tube of lip balm. Specifically, it was one of your custom made lip balms. The packaging was simple yet appealing. It had your own company logo on it.

You removed the protective plastic tamper seal of the small tube and turned the knob before slowly applying the smooth balm all over his lips. Every ingredient was natural. The ingredients were: Beeswax, Shea butter, Peppermint, Coconut Oil, Cocoa Butter and Vitamin E. The topical salve provided maximum conditioning and healing moisture to the skin.

“This is one of my balms that I made myself. There are many more flavors that I have in stock. I am going to give you some of my products the next time we meet.”

As you applied the balm, you noticed that there was a small mole near his chin. Many people regarded that mole as a 'beauty mark'. It really did fit him really well. "You're so cute. You know that?"

Tomura just blushed before he let out a chuckle to ease the tension. “Thanks. I guess.” The sensation on his mouth felt really odd to him at first but it soothed every parched and cracked crevice of his lips. That balm was quick to do its job. "It's pretty good. You actually made this yourself?" He rubbed his lips together, getting used to the tingling taste of the peppermint. His lips felt smoother than before.

"Yes, I sure did. I enjoy creating my skin care line. It's quite a lucrative field for me." You placed the tube in his hand before wrapping his fingers around it. "Take it. It's yours. Free of charge."

"Thanks. You're really kind. I usually don't care about any of this cosmetic bullshit. I normally don’t make a fuss about my appearance. I just don't see the point." Tomura just shrugged. He did practice basic daily hygiene rituals such as showering and brushing his teeth but, that's the most he's ever done.

"Well, I believe that you deserve to feel comfortable in your own skin. I think you're handsome and you have potential." You gave him a reassuring smile before checking the time on your phone.

"Oh! I need to get going now. I promised my friend that I would meet with them for dinner tonight." You packed up your things and stood up from your chair.

“So, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks? We could meet up after class to discuss the final draft of the report. Is that fine with you?” He asked you. If he were to be honest, he thought it was way too soon for you to part ways with him. It would be nice if you were able to stay with him and hang out a little while longer.

Or overnight.

In his bed.

Or him in your bed.

With your soft thighs wrapped around his waist.

He did not feel one ounce of shame when it came to his fantasies about you. You were really tempting him and it was not fair. If he had the opportunity, he would pounce on you in a heartbeat. And once he was done drilling you into the mattress he would empty his balls inside of you, filling you up with his warm thick cum that you so rightfully deserved. He would not let one drop go to waste. All of it would be inside of you, gushing into your womb. He’ll cum inside of that heavenly pussy over and over again.

“That sounds good to me. I’ll text you if I need anything before then.”

“Cool. I’ll see you later. Thanks for the balm. I’ll make sure to use it every day.” He gave you a small smile, showing his appreciation. Small beads of sweat formed on his forehead, feeling so much tension in his pants at the nonstop explicit thoughts that keep rattling in his mind. He prayed to God that you didn’t notice the small bulge that was underneath his jeans.

You did notice but you kept quiet. It was flattering to you that he found you so visually appealing enough that he was about to bust in his pants. “You’re welcome, babe.” You leaned over the table to pet him on top of his head. You made sure that Tomura could get a nice view of your cleavage.

If he didn’t know any better, you were trying to entice him. The pet name was a clear indicator of that.

You sensed that he was ogling and eyefucking you every time you walked away, had your head turned or became distracted by something else. Your suspicions were correct. It was then that you concocted a sneaky plan for the next time you were to meet up with him. This was a sexy game that you were willing to play. A game that you would for sure win.

•••°°°°••••°°°°••••

Two weeks later…

You spotted Tomura sitting in the student lounge flipping through the pages of one of his text books. You sat next to him on the plush cushion couches. "Hi darling." You greeted him with a sweet, gentle tone.

There weren’t that many people around at the moment except for one or two other people besides you. They were sitting at the other side of the lounge. You made yourself comfortable once you took a seat on the previously vacant spot next to him on the sofa. Maybe a little too comfortable.

"Hey." He slightly blushed at the affectionate pet name.

Tomura’s eyes widened at your choice of outfit. It wasn’t anything too revealing. All you wore was a white tank top and light blue jeans. It was a pretty simple outfit but it was so tight on you, tight in all of the right places. Your cleavage was much more noticeable. If you were to give a slight tug down at your neckline, those tits would just spill out in front of him with little to no effort at all.

You wore that shirt on purpose. You most certainly had his undivided attention. He was wrapped around your little finger.

“I’m sorry that I disappeared after class. I had to use the restroom.” You yawned, outstretching your arms as you did so.

He tried so hard not to gawk at you in front of your face. “Don’t worry. I wanted to get myself something to drink before we met anyway. I’m just glad that you received my text. I apologize for the sudden change for the meet up location.”

“It’s alright. Thanks for letting me know. I really wasn’t in the mood to play cat and mouse today. But, I’m glad I caught you.” You let out a small purr while gently clawing at his hoodie collar.

He gulped. A large lump slid down his throat as he swallowed. His body temperature rose a bit. He wasn’t used to being teased by any woman. It was hard to find his words at the moment.

You felt sinisterly playful on that particular day. “So, do you have the final draft with you?” Your breasts were pressed against his arm.

“Um…Yes. I do. I have a copy of it here with me. You can keep it so you could add your part in. We should compare notes and perhaps you could rewrite the report with your part included. I’ll send you another copy in an attachment through e-mail. Then, we should be good to go.” He stated, trying his hardest to remain composed in your presence.

You were about to make things so difficult for him.

Were your nipples hard?

They definitely were.

They poked out like pebbles underneath that white stretch fabric of your tank top.

“Thank you. You’re so sweet. You’re such a gentleman. Any woman would be so lucky to have you as her man.” You had a sultry smirk on your face.

“Well. I wouldn’t say that. I never had a woman to call my own. I don’t think that will ever happen in this lifetime.” He nervously scratched the side of his neck. This was so embarrassing for him.

"So wait. You mean to tell me that you have never been intimate with another person before?" You asked.

He was hesitant to answer that question for many reasons. One main reason was that he would face harsh judgment. "Um…well…no. No I have not."

"Aww~ Aren't you adorable?" You teased him as your fingers gently flicked and tugged the zipper of his hoodie. This was too good to be true. The hunt was much more delicious. You were like a lioness, on the prowl for her next capture. This one was about to be sweet and juicy.

Once again, Tomura's body temperature slowly rose to a higher temperature when he felt you tinkering with his collar and zipper. His pants were feeling a bit tight around his loins. Those pale cheeks of his had a faint pink tint to them and the tint only deepened when your face moved closer to his.

"What's stopping you?" You asked.

"I always had trouble getting a girl's attention."

"You have my attention." You winked at him. Then, you crossed your legs and leaned closer next to him.

Tomura just froze in place. ‘What the actual fuck ?!’ He sipped his coffee quickly, to keep himself from speaking.

"Well, you know. It would be such a turn on if I were to take IT from you. Would you let me be your first time?"

"Wait―WHAT?!" Tomura damn near choked on his hot caffeinated beverage when he heard your offer.

"I can see the look in your eyes. So can you. I know you want me." You cooed to him.

Tomura felt like the luckiest guy in the world at that moment. A beautiful woman who is willing to take his virginity and was so eager about it as well? He felt like he hit the jackpot.

"I'm going to have so much fun with you." You pressed your chest up against his. Both of his crimson eyes widened while his Adams apple bobbed from a harsh gulp. He thought this entire moment was unreal. This was too good to be true.

Both of your hands pressed on his chest. "We can indulge ourselves with some red wine. Some restraints and body oil and we can have ourselves an evening." You gripped his collar and roughly yanked him so his nose was touching yours. A hiss sharply escaped between your clenched teeth.

He felt like he was about to combust. His face was completely red. He just wanted to melt away from reality. He never knew how to flirt back because he never had the opportunity to. Most women did their best to avoid him as they considered him a weirdo.

You pouted. "What's wrong, darling? You look like a cherry. Is everything alright?"

He sputtered and mumbled. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just—Are you sure? Do you really want to? Us? Together?” His eyes darted everywhere. His palms were so sweaty.

"Follow me to the parking lot. I want to 'show' you something." A devilish smirk stretched your face.

This was about to be good.

Notes: That's it for first chapter. I hope everyone enjoyed it. I originally posted this fic back in 2021 on my Ao3 page. I'm still in the process of writing the next chapter. Should I continue this?

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