#ineedhimsobad

you had unknowingly been casted on the messiest season of love island.

you weren’t a part of the original twelve cast, though originally you were planned to be. a small family emergency arose and nearly pulled you out completely. instead, it was settled and handled by your sister. you gave the okay to stick to the process— coming into the villa as a bombshell the next day.

and of course, you were a hot commodity. no one in the villa was closed off, meaning you were pulled for chats consistently without all the added tension and drama. you’d started in a chat with a boy named ruben and found you had no connection immediately. your next few conversations were dry as fuck. one boy asked to kiss you within five minutes, and honestly? you didn’t play that shit. you’d gotten up with the quickness, making it maybe a dozen feet before deon pulled you for, finally, your first good chat.

physically, deon was your type to a T. he’d been a gentleman, holding your hand gently as you walked up the narrow steps and not letting go until you’d gotten comfortable on the overly cushioned couch. deon made sure to ask you questions and show you interest, spaced a respectable distance away from you as you chat about the vibes and everything you missed from coming into the villa late.

within a few minutes of chatting with deon, though, you feel a shiver down your spine. you ignore it for as long as you can but, as you shift positions to get more comfortable, you see an outline from your peripheral view. your eyes wonder and you see him sitting directly across the villa with a girl you’d been introduced to but already forgot the name of.

you feel slightly bad for her, because as she speaks animatedly— sitting so close that it was obvious they were coupled up— he watches you.

he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, even as you catch him in the act. in fact, you watch as his eyes trail slowly down— over your lips, down your printed dress that showed the perfect amount of cleavage, over your bare knee peaking through the slit, and over the heels on your feet. your stomach flips when his tongue glides over his bottom lip and plummets when he pulls his lip between his teeth.

his eyes travel back up your body until he meets your stare again. it feels like you’re frozen in his gaze, only breaking free when the girl— what was her name? winter? autumn?— lays her hand on his arm and pulls his attention away.

it takes less than two minutes for him to pull you after wrapping up your chat with poor, sweet, deon.

jermajesty doesn’t lead you far— just to the set of daybeds near the pool, away from the main seating area but still visible to anyone who wanted to look. he sits first and you sit across from him— a strategic distance— but he just grins like he knows exactly what you’re doing.

“nah, come sit over here,” he says, patting the seat directly next to him. “i don’t bite.”

you move closer, telling yourself it’s because refusing would hurt his ego, not because something in his voice makes you stand before your brain catches up.

he’s even prettier up close. loose curls fall over his forehead in a messy way, nearly grazing his thick but neat eyebrows. you can’t help the way you can’t look away from, switching from the heat of his dark eyes and his plush lips. his skin is so clear that you feel a little jealous. he has slight facial hair and you imagine what it would feel like rubbing against the skin of your neck and the inside of your thighs.

your first chat, outside of introductions during your entrance, goes just as you expect it to. he’s charming you in every opportunity and you’re accepting it with a shit-eating smile on your face.

“real shit— i saw you walk in and i already knew,” he says at one point.

“knew what?” you’d managed, and you hated how breathless you had sounded around him already.

“that you was gon’ be a problem for me.” and he sits back as he says it, spreading his legs wider and resting a hand on his knee. he watches you notice it and the corner of his mouth lifts a tiny bit higher. you roll your eyes, albeit playfully, and reply, “you know you’re coupled up, right?”

“i am. and?” there's no hesitation in his voice. “this whole thing is about finding your person, right?”

you hum in reply and he moves past it. “so what you looking for? ‘cause i peeped you with deon. he seem like a nice guy.” he says ‘nice guy’ as if it’s an insult, a slur. it causes a spike of annoyance to run through you. there was nothing wrong with being a gentleman.

“he is nice,” you sound slightly defensive.

“yeah, i bet,” jermajesty’s smile is slow, knowing. “you like nice? is that what does it for you?

you should say yes. you should tell him that nice is exactly what you want, what you need. instead, you hold his gaze and say nothing. he laughs— a low, rich sound that you feel in your chest and somewhere a lot lower.

“nah, you don’t. i can tell…” he trails off, “i bet you the type that need somebody who challenges you. keep you on your toes and make you feel something.”

“you don’t know me.”

“not yet, but i will.” he promises. your conversation continues until it’s time to unwind and get ready to sleep. that night, he shared a bed with winter/autumn/summer but doesn’t dare touch her. he turns to lay with his back facing her. conventionally, he can also see you two beds down, sleeping alone in your satin tank and short set.

the next morning, you’re met with two breakfast plates as you’re getting ready in the makeup room. the third arrives as you’re halfway done with your makeup. it’s jermajesty’s plate— and it’s piled up with twice the amount of food as the other two plates. the girl next to you shouts ‘damn girl, he want you bad!’ and you laugh. looking in the mirror sat on top of the vanity, you see a twinkling in your eyes.

the day is chill. you spend some time in the pool getting to know the girls better. jermajesty pulls you for multiple chats throughout this time, giving the other boys damn near no chance as he gets to know you better. that night, the villa is hit with a surprise recoupling where the choice is in the hands of the men.

to no one’s surprise, you and jermajesty share a bed that night. and the night after. and the night after.

you slowly get closer, even as your connection is tested by the arrival of two new bombshells— both men. they’re revealed during the villa’s lingerie party, as you’re blindfolded and handcuffed to a pillar. jermajesty has to remind himself that it’s a challenge as he watches one of the bombshells choose you to kiss, removing your blindfold, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. you’d looked at jermajesty the second the bombshell stepped back.

but, jermajesty refused to meet your eye. instead he eyed the bombshell, tracing every step he took with a clenched jaw and a bouncing leg.

the next day, he’s seething as the bombshell gets to take you on a date outside of the villa. his anger builds with each passing hour and he seems oblivious to the way the other islanders avoid walking within his vicinity.

he sits at the fire pit, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together so tight that his fingers start to go numb. his jaw works like he’s chewing on something bitter. isaac, one of the original six boys, approaches cautiously, his bottle of water and phone for pictures in hand.

“yo, you good, bro?” isaac asks.

jermajesty doesn’t look up, doesn’t really move at all, as isaac sits with him. “yeah, i’m straight.”

isaac side-eyes him, a burst of laughter leaving him. “this date got you in your feelings, huh?”

“nah, not in my feelings. i’m just observing,” he finally looks up, smoothing his palms down the front of his pants and rubbing a hand over his chin. “watching how niggas move when they think they got an opening.”

“ay, he gotta get in somewhere, it’s part of the show—”

“i know what it is. that’s why i ain’t trippin’. cause at the end of the day?” he leans against the back cushion, spreading his arms along the back of the bench. a picture of complete confidence. “she coming back to me. she gon’ tell me all about it, probably apologize for shit she don’t need to apologize for, and imma listen. imma be understanding. and then imma remind her who she really want.”

“what if she actually vibes with dude?” isaac asks, “like, the date goes well? what you gon’ do if they kiss?”

jermajesty’s jaw clenches again, that muscle jumping. “then imma have to check that. real quick.”

isaac opens his mouth to respond, but the sound of laughter and cheering cuts through the villa. both of them turn toward the entrance.

and there you are.

you’re glowing. that’s the first thing jermajesty notices— the way your skin catches the late afternoon sun, the way your smile is so wide it makes your eyes crinkle at the corners. you’re wearing a different outfit now, something flowy and baby pink that moves with you as you walk. and your hand—

your hand is wrapped around the bombshell's.

jermajesty goes completely still.

“oh shit,” isaac mutters under his breath. 

the girls rush up to you immediately, a whirlwind of questions paired with squealing and hugs. one girl, deanna, wraps her arms around your waist, lifting you up and spinning you. jermajesty praises her in his mind, because that’s the thing that gets you to let go of his hand.

you’re talking animatedly when you get set down, gesturing with your hands as you recount different moments from the date. the bombshell is grinning down at you like he just won the lottery. he’s tall, light-skinned with a fade, wearing a linen button-up that’s open at the collar. he looks comfortable.

he notices as you recount the date, that you’re only showing genuine excitement over what you did— a private beach set up— and not over the bombshell. not over what the two of you talked about. he feels himself relax slightly. when deanna asks if the two of you kissed on the date, you shake your head ‘no’ and he feels the tension leave his body completely. 

he walks right up to you, body angled away from the bombshell and giving him no attention, and asks to pull you for a chat. you say yes, the smile on your face growing bigger, and let him lead you down the stairs to the dock. he holds your hand the entire way, switching to wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer when you finally sit. he breathes a lot easier with you in his arms.

that night, the tension comes back to him tenfold. the fire pit is lit and everyone is gathered around. the host’s voice leaves an echo through the space as she announces that the bombshells will get to choose who they want to couple up with, while the two boys left single will be vulnerable and at risk of being dumped.

jermajesty stands across from you, lined up with the rest of the boys. his face is a mask of indifference, but you can see the tension in his posture. you both know what’s coming and it leaves a sick feeling in your stomach.

brandon, the bombshell, is called first. he steps forward, confident and smiling, “this is an easy choice for me,” he says and his eyes find yours before he shifts his attention away immediately. “from the moment i got here, there’s been one girl who’s caught my attention. she’s beautiful, she’s real, and our date today just confirmed what i already knew. so the girl i want to couple up with is…”

he speaks your name, and it’s a fight to force a smile onto your face. you stand and step forward, even as your legs feel like lead. brandon meets you halfway and pulls you into a hug, leaning down until his mouth is lined up to your ear, “you okay?”

“mmhm,” you lie. you meet jermajesty’s eyes over his shoulder and the expression on his face makes your breath catch. it’s colder than cold, and he can’t seem to pick where he wants to focus his attention. his eyes jump from brandon’s arms around your waist, to your hands on his back, to your chin on his shoulder. you can’t help the guilty pout that crosses your face as you mouth ‘i’m sorry’. your stomach drops when he looks away with no acknowledgement. 

the second bombshell makes his choice, leaving an islander named tyler at risk alongside jermajesty. the host continues to announce that the decision of who’ll be dumped from the island will be up to the girls. you blink frequently, wishing that you could advocate for them to save your connection. instead, you sit off to the side— shivering even though you don’t feel cold.

deliberation happens quickly. the girls huddle, whispering. you force yourself to drown it out, focusing on jermajesty. even as brandon’s leg presses against yours and his hand rests just slightly above your knee. when the girls announce that they’re saving jermajesty, you try and keep the relief under wraps. a shaky breath leaves you before you can stop it.

tyler is dumped from the island. you, having not really built any kind of bond with him, find it easy to say goodbye. in a fucked up way, you wish he’d hurry and leave so that you could finally talk to jermajesty. 

when it’s over and everyone disperses, mostly leaving to comfort tyler’s old connection, brandon immediately tries to pull you toward the daybed but you shake your head with a small frown.

“sorry, i just need a minute,” you tell him. “wanna… decompress first.”

he accepts your answer and you wait until he’s gone, until most of the islanders have scattered. and then you go the direction you’d watched jermajesty head in moments earlier. 

you find him in soul ties.

he’s sitting on the day bed, one leg pulled up and the other stretched out in front of him. the lights cast shadows across. suddenly nervous, you stand in the entrance, watching the rise and fall of his shoulders.

“you just gon’ stand there?” his voice is quiet and flat. he doesn’t look up as you climb over to sit beside him, but he does wrap a hand around your calf, supporting you so that you don’t fall. 

you wrap your arm around yourself, “i wanted to check on you.”

he looks at you, so deadpan, as he asks where the other half of your couple is. you groan and throw your head back, two hands pressing hard against your forehead. you can feel an incoming headache from the day overall.

“you know that wasn’t up to me,” you lean your head back up and look at him. unconsciously, you turn to face him fully and bring both legs under you, now sitting on your knees. “we just talked. that’s it. i didn’t— we didn’t kiss or anything. i didn’t ask for him to pick me.”

“you wanted to? kiss him?”

“no, i— maj,” you pause and take a deep breath, because were you really gonna stutter over a nigga on reality tv? “i don’t know... maybe he wanted to, but i didn’t. i couldn’t stop thinking about—”

you cut yourself off, but, of course, he catches it anyway.

“thinkin’ ‘bout what?” he grins, but it’s more condescending than anything. “thinkin’ about me while you was out there holding his hand, smilin’ all big and shit? happy as hell about that basic ass date?”

a flash of irritation hits you. if he was gonna be petty, then fine— you’d be petty too. you give him the same grin and say, “yeah, actually. i was thinkin’ about you as he hand-fed me strawberries too.”

it’s the wrong answer and you regret it as soon as the words leave your mouth. they hang in the air between you dangerously. you feel an urge to leave, to end this conversation before it goes somewhere you can't come back from but you're frozen in place as he watches you with those dark, unreadable eyes. and fuck, you think he might actually be crazy as he shakes his head slowly and laughs.

his arm that rests behind you inches closer, fingers teasing the ends of your hair. he’s still leaned back, still with one leg pulled up. “i want you to understand something.”

“understand what?” you glance at his fingers before meeting his eye again.

“you can couple up with whoever you want. you can go on all the dates, hold all the hands, smile all you want.” his fingers graze your neck and the rest of his hand follows. you swallow as he swipes his thumb down the front of your throat before moving to your jaw. “but at the end of the day? you gon’ end up right here with me. because you already know who you belong to.”

“i don’t belong to anyone.”

“nah?” he’s getting closer, but he’s not the one leaning in. he’s got a gentle hold on your jaw and he uses it to guide you slowly towards him. “then why you in here right now? why you ain’t with brandon, celebrating your new couple?”

you look away, silently.

“go ‘head, tell me i’m wrong.” he challenges, his voice dropping lower. his thumb reaches your bottom lip, hovering before brushing across.

“jermajesty—” his name leaves your lips; a sigh of resignation.

“yeah ma,” a small smile, “that’s what i thought.”

and he kisses you.

it’s not gentle. his hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer. his other hand grips your waist, and the kiss is claiming, possessive, everything you knew it would be and more. there’s a hunger in it, the build up of tension finally snapping all at once.

 he takes advantage the second a soft exhale leaves you, deepening the kiss until you’re dizzy with it. he tastes like mint, and something sweet, and you need more.

you push him back— though you follow right after, leaving no space between you. you move to straddle his lap and he adjusts immediately, hand guiding your hips as you settle over him. your hands have a mind of their own, trailing down and back up his chest, traveling over his neck and around, finding purchase in his hair and tugging. his grip on your waist tightens at that, teeth catching your bottom lip, and you make a sound you’ve never made before—  something between a gasp and a moan that has heat flooding your cheeks.

a deep groan leaves him in reply. you feel the hand in your hair untangle, urging an arch in your spine as it travels down until he reaches your ass. jermajesty kneads, grabbing you and pressing you closer, and you can feel exactly how much he wants this, wants you. 

you help him, grinding down into his lap and pulling away from his mouth to trail kisses down the side of his face. his stubble scratches against your lips int he best way. you lick and bite the tender space on his neck, right under his ear, before leaving open mouthed kisses.

“mm, fuuck—” he eagerly tilts his head to give you better access, throat exposed and vulnerable as both arms wrap around your waist. he presses his hips up once, grinding against you in a way that makes your breath catch, before he forces himself to stop. his breathing is ragged, chest heaving beneath you.

you fall into a fit of giggles in his neck, giddy and breathless and overwhelmed in the best possible way, and you hear his soft laugh, dangerously close to your ear. his warm breath ghosting across your skin and sending shivers down your spine. 

with one last lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth, you remember where you are and go to sit back at his side. but the second you shift your weight, you feel it— the hard press of him against your thigh. jermajesty’s arm pulls you back down immediately and your eyes widen at him.

“just don’t, uh—don’t move, yet.”