#solo x reader

The door opened, and Cha Hae-In stepped in.

She didn’t hurry. She never did. Still in her hunter gear, her golden hair pulled into a low ponytail, strands clinging to the curve of her cheek from the steam of the post-raid shower she clearly hadn’t taken yet. She crossed the room without asking, sliding into the seat beside him as if it was hers by right.

“You’re late,” Jinwoo murmured, not looking at her at first.

“I was making sure your little stunt in that dungeon didn’t get anyone killed,” she replied smoothly, setting a folder on the table.

A corner of his mouth lifted. “That ‘stunt’ cleared the gate in half the expected time.”

Her lips quirked. “That ‘stunt’ also had me hauling two unconscious C-ranks back to the exit while you-what was it again?-‘handled it.’” She leaned back in her chair, arms folding across her chest, the faintest scent of steel and rain clinging to her skin.

Around the table, a few guild members shifted, glancing between them. This wasn’t unusual-Hae-In's and Jinwoo’s verbal sparring had become something of a spectator sport.

Jinwoo finally turned his head to meet her gaze. Close enough that if either of them leaned forward, their foreheads might touch. “Handled it,” he repeated, voice low and steady. “And you know I did.”

She arched a brow, holding his stare longer than most could withstand. “Fine. You handled it. But next time, try not to make my job harder.”

The corner of his jaw ticked. The easy way she said “my job” always made something primal in him itch. They were equals, but she was still an Alpha-untouchable. Not mine. The thought was unwelcome yet persistent.

“Noted,” he said at last, turning his attention back to the agenda. But he didn’t move his arm from where it brushed hers on the table.

The meeting rolled on, touching on gate schedules and resource distribution. Their voices were quieter now, but the tension lingered-sharp, magnetic. Jinwoo didn’t miss the way her hair swayed when she tilted her head toward him to make a point. He didn’t miss the faint curve of her smirk when she caught him looking.

“So,” Hae-In said casually during a lull, flipping a page in her notes, “speaking of the roster, there’s someone I want to put forward.”

Jinwoo glanced at her sidelong. “Another Alpha?” His tone was unreadable, but there was the faintest suggestion of disinterest.

“No,” she said, and something in her eyes shifted. “My sister.”

He stilled. “You have a sister?”

Her smirk deepened at his tone. “Half-sister. We don’t talk about her much because she’s been in America for years. She’s an S-rank. And…” She let the pause stretch. “…she’s an Omega.”

The air in the room shifted, almost imperceptibly. Jinwoo’s focus sharpened. Rare, an S-Rank Omega?. Unclaimed. His instincts stirred before he forced them down.

“An S-rank Omega,” he said evenly, as if weighing the words. “That’s… unusual.”

“She’s strong. Strong enough to replace me if she wanted.” Hae-In's voice held both pride and a warning.

Jinwoo leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming once on the armrest. . “Bring her in tomorrow. I’d like to see for myself.”

Hae-In’s gaze narrowed. “Careful. She’s nothing like me.”

He let the faintest smirk curl his lips. Good. I don’t need another Alpha.

The meeting adjourned shortly after. Jinwoo left first, the weight of anticipation coiled low in his chest- alien, unwelcome, but undeniable. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

____________________________________________

By the time the next day rolled around, Jinwoo was already at his wits’ end.

Not only had the morning raids not gone to his liking, none of them delivering the precision or results he expected-but his shadows had been restless. They rippled through him as if anticipating something. He couldn’t tell whether they sensed danger or something else entirely, but it did nothing to help his already fraying mood.

A soft knock came at the door before it cracked open. Hae-In peeked in, her hair done neatly today. Jinwoo noticed immediately, he always did. You’d have to be blind not to notice how breathtaking Cha Hae-In was.

He had always wondered how things might have been if she were an Omega. But rules were rules-Alphas could not mate with Alphas. There was no true spark, no lasting bond. That didn’t stop him from letting his gaze rake over her figure with quiet hunger.

“What is it?” he said coolly, still tapping away at his keyboard, the failed mission reports from the morning spread across his desk.

“I’m assuming someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” Hae-In teased, still lingering by the door.

“I’m not in the mood, Cha. State your business.”

“Jeez, alright. My sister? You were going to interview her today-she’s already here. Can I tell her to come in?”

Jinwoo nearly groaned. He’d forgotten entirely about the interview. He gave her a curt nod, signaling for her to do so, and started looking for the file. But then-

It hit him.

No. It slammed into him.

A scent-warm, alluring, intoxicating-rolled through the room, making his nostrils flare and his pupils darken as he inhaled greedily. Notes of honey, coffee, a sunny afternoon, and sweet vanilla wrapped around him in a way that made every nerve stand on edge. His shadows stirred restlessly. His inner wolf howled.

And it wasn’t Hae-In.

“Cha,” Jinwoo called through clenched teeth.

“Yes, boss?”

“Your scent. It’s… changed.” His voice was low, wary. His eyes stayed locked on her, tracking every movement. The scent was around her, but it wasn’t hers.

“Oh? In a good way or a bad way? I did change my shampoo-lavender is quite lovely.”

Lavender?

The pen in his hand creaked under his grip, seconds away from snapping in two. Lavender was not the scent that was unraveling him.

“Bring her in,” Jinwoo managed, the words edged with something sharp. Hae-In gave a small nod and left the room.

He flipped through the papers with deliberate slowness, half grateful-half desperate-that the scent belonged to someone else. Maybe Cha had passed by an Omega in heat on her way here. Yes. That was reasonable. Logical. Jinwoo told himself this twice, three times, trying to believe it. Because if the person who owned that scent walked into his office, he wasn’t sure he could keep control.

The file came open in his hands:

Cha Y/n . Twenty-three years old. Graduated from the University of California with a degree in life sciences before awakening as an S-Rank Hunter. Affiliated with the Hunter Guild in America, involved in multiple successful missions.

Impressive. Very impressive.

His gaze locked on the final detail.

Second gender: Omega.

A shiver ran down his spine. She would be the first Omega in Ahjin if he hired her. It was a risk-a lone, unmated Omega in a den full of Alphas. But Jinwoo trusted his people. They wouldn’t dare touch her. Not under his protection.

A soft knock broke his thoughts. Jinwoo straightened in his seat, steeling himself.

“Come in.”

The door eased open, and in stepped a petite girl, no taller than 5 feet. H/c hair curled neatly, framing a face with wide, doe-like eyes and a soft smile, made more arresting by the small dimple in her cheek. She wore a blush-pink blouse tucked into a pencil skirt, a gentle elegance in every step.

She held two cups of coffee.

The scent rolled in behind her like a tide-coffee, vanilla, and honey. It was hers.

Jinwoo’s inner wolf howled louder, clawing against the cage of his control. His fingers tightened on the desk as if anchoring him to reality. His pulse roared in his ears.

“Good morning! I’m Cha Y/n!”

Her voice was soft, warm, bright—like sunlight spilling into the room. Jinwoo barely registered her crossing the space to place one of the coffees on his desk, or the way her smile seemed to make the air itself lighter.

All he could hear was his own inner voice, low and certain, thrumming through his bones:

Mate.

~~~~~~~~

The coffee sat untouched on Jinwoo’s desk.

Not because it wasn’t good-he hadn’t even tasted it yet-but because every time he lifted the cup, the scent of its giver rose with the steam and threatened to undo him.

Cha Y/n sat across from him, hands folded neatly in her lap, posture straight but not rigid. She gave off an ease that most S-ranks didn’t have-a warmth that made her seem smaller than the room when in reality, the room felt smaller because of her.

Cha lingered by the door, arms crossed loosely as if this was just another casual introduction. Jinwoo knew better. She was watching her sister. And he was watching her sister. For very different reasons.

“Alright,” Jinwoo said, voice low, measured. “Why don’t you tell me a little about your experience in the field?”

Y/n brightened instantly. “Of course. I joined the San Francisco Hunter Guild at nineteen. I started as a support, mostly handling logistics and extraction. But after my awakening, I shifted into active fieldwork. I’ve cleared over a dozen S-rank gates and served as team lead for four.”

Her voice was like silk over steel-soft but certain. Jinwoo’s gaze dragged over her face, the way her lips curved slightly when she spoke, the subtle flush in her cheeks. His wolf pushed forward, closer, closer, she’s yours.

He forced himself to lean back in his chair instead. “Impressive. And your… second gender never caused issues with your team?”

Her brow furrowed slightly at the question, but she kept her tone light. “Not really. Most of them were professional about it. And if they weren’t, I made it clear I could take care of myself.”

The corner of Jinwoo’s mouth tugged upward, not from amusement, but from something darker. You shouldn’t have to take care of yourself. Not when you have me.

Hae-In cut in, “She’s understating. She once put a full-grown Alpha on the ground in under thirty seconds.”

Y/N laughed softly. “That was… a misunderstanding.”

Jinwoo’s grip on the armrest tightened. “I’d like to hear about that incident.”

“Oh—uh—it was a training match that got a little heated. He didn’t respect my boundaries, so I showed him why he should.” Her eyes glinted with quiet defiance before softening again. “It was nothing dramatic.”

He wanted to ask who the Alpha was. He wanted a name, a face, and the chance to make sure they never breathed near her again.

Instead, he said, “Good. Boundaries are important.”

They moved on to questions about her combat style, preferred weaponry, and specialization in gate environments. She answered each one thoughtfully, sometimes gesturing lightly with her hands, the faint scent of her skin drifting toward him with every movement. His shadows quivered under the desk, restless.

Halfway through, she leaned forward to explain a particular strategy she used in water-heavy dungeons. The motion brought her scent closer-honey, vanilla, coffee-wrapping around his senses like a vice. His wolf growled low in his chest, a sound only he could hear.

Take her. Mark her. Now.

He swallowed hard, speaking evenly. “That’s a clever approach. I can see why your success rate is so high.”

Her smile in response was bright enough to burn.

Hae-In shifted against the wall, glancing at her watch. “I’ve got another meeting, but you two can finish without me.”

Jinwoo didn’t move, didn’t blink, until the door clicked shut.

The moment it did, the air changed.

Without Cha’s presence, the space between them felt electric, charged. Jinwoo leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking on hers. “Do you always bring coffee to your interviews?”

She laughed softly. “Only when I think the person I’m meeting might need it.”

His fingers curled slowly on the desk. She’s thoughtful. Kind. Mine.

“I appreciate it,” he said, voice quieter now. “Though I think it’s the best cup I’ve ever had.”

Her cheeks flushed faintly. “Well, I’m glad you like it.”

He did. He liked everything. Too much.

By the end of the interview, he’d asked every standard question-and a few that weren’t on the form at all-just to keep her in the room a little longer. When she finally stood, thanking him for his time, he rose as well, unable to stop himself from tracking every movement.

Her hand brushed the edge of his desk as she turned to leave.

He nearly followed.

____________________________________________

He hired her.

Of course he did. He would be a fool not to hire his fated mate-make sure she worked for him, keep her close. Even though her scent alone drove him to madness, he had to restrain himself. She didn’t know how much of an effect she had on him, and he intended to keep it that way. For now.

He wouldn’t dream of forcing anything on her. The only shred of common sense and respect tethering him was held by a thin thread, telling him to wait….allow her to come to him, to feel the same, to fall in love with him. He knew he was playing the long game, but it was worth it.

“One orientation and two preliminary assessments?” Beak Yoonho, Jinwoo’s fellow S-rank and friend, murmured as he flipped through Y/n’s file in Jinwoo’s office.

“Yes. She’s quick on her feet-I don’t think she’d need more assessments.” Jinwoo felt her aura and strength even from the papers. She was an elemental manipulator, specializing in fire and ice. Formidable. He didn’t think she needed the assessments, though they were necessary to understand her style and how it might complement the team. Either way, her position here was written in stone.

“Cha should be done with her orientation soon. Who’s assessing her?” Yoonho glanced at his watch. Jinwoo stood from his desk, and Yoonho followed him out toward the training facilities.

“The first round will be Choi Jong-In, and you’ll do her second round. I’ll oversee everything, of course,” Jinwoo said as they reached the upper deck overlooking the training floor.

The room was large but not as vast as the other training halls. Below, Choi was warming up, fingers flickering with flames. Upon sensing their presence, he waved to them. Jinwoo was about to return the greeting when his body tensed-the scent entered the hall.

She stepped onto the mat wearing leggings and a sports bra. Her arms and midriff were visible, and Jinwoo was anything but okay.

He nearly salivated. She looked gorgeous, her friendly smile lighting up the room as she introduced herself to Choi. She smelled divine, and Jinwoo felt his heart stop. His fists clenched against the railing as their assessment began.

She moved like a goddess-like she owned the floor. She was indeed an S-rank and more. Jinwoo watched a bead of sweat roll down her neck and in between the valley of her breasts. A shiver of pleasure ran through him. Flashes of imagined touches, kisses, and whispered moans played in his mind as he struggled to keep it together.

How it would feel to kiss along her neck, to lick her nape and taste her skin-oh gods, what he would give to taste her. To feel her quiver under his fingers. To hear her moan and beg for him when he thrusts deep-

“Isn’t she perfect?” Hae-In's voice stopped Jinwoo from imagining further. He straightened, cleared his throat, and subtly adjusted his pants.

“Yes. She’s quite impressive. I’ll get ready for my assessment with her.” Yoonho excused himself to prepare.

Hae-In leaned on the railing beside Jinwoo, watching him hungrily watch her sister.

“She’s my sister, boss,” Hae-In reminded softly, making him snap his eyes to her.

“I’m aware,” he said coldly, his possessive alpha shining through.

“Good. Because she’s too pure, and I’d hate for anyone to corrupt her.”

Too late, Jinwoo thought. He wanted to corrupt her, worship her, love her, own her, mark her… ruin her.

____________________________________________

Solo knew that morning something was off.

Of course he did. He always knew. They’d only been dating for four months, but they’d been best friends for five years before that. Long enough to learn the secret language of her body, the subtle shifts in her breathing, the way her eyes would sometimes focus on something just beyond the visible horizon when the pain began to whisper through her nerves. Solo Sikoa on television was a menace, a wall of silent, brooding intensity, all coiled violence and sharp, knowing glares. He was the one who spoke with his fists, who ended conversations with a single, devastating thud.

But the Solo she knew was different. With her, his edges sanded down into something warm and patient. He was funny in a dry, understated way that made her snort-laugh at inappropriate moments. He was quiet, not with emptiness, but with a deep, listening stillness. And he was soft with her in a way he never showed anyone else...a softness that lived in the calloused pad of his thumb brushing her cheekbone, in the low rumble of his voice when he asked if she’d eaten, in the way he’d simply exist beside her without demanding a single thing.

When she woke up in the plush, anonymous hotel bed that morning, the first thing she registered wasn’t the filtered sunlight through the blackout curtains. It was the deep, familiar ache in her hips, a dull throb that had settled into the sockets like rusted hinges. Having chronic pain, something that couldn’t be seen by the naked eye, that didn’t bleed or bruise or show up on any scan, was a special kind of lonely. Because there were no visible symptoms, people often treated it like a ghost story: unsettling, but ultimately something you chose to believe in. They’d offer advice about yoga, or hydration, or positive thinking, their eyes politely skeptical. But the aches in her joints and muscles were as real as the bed beneath her, as the man sleeping soundly beside her. She lived with a constant, low-grade hum of discomfort, a background static to her life. But this…this was a flare. The static had been cranked into a screaming feedback loop, radiating from her hips down her thighs and up her spine, a cruel electricity that made every movement a calculated decision.

But she came out of the hotel bathroom smiling. A practiced, gentle curve of her lips that she’d perfected over years. Her hoodie, one of his, smelling faintly of his sandalwood cologne and the arena, was pulled on over her head, the sleeves swallowing her hands. A pair of soft, forgiving leggings and her most supportive sneakers completed the armor. She was ready to face the day, to perform wellness.

Solo looked up from his phone, charging on the nightstand, and smiled when he saw her. It was a real smile, one that crinkled the corners of his dark eyes. Then, as she moved toward her suitcase, his smile didn’t fade, but it changed. It became observational. He watched the careful, slightly stiff way she walked across the room, the slight hesitation before she bent, not at the waist, but with a deep knee bend, to pick up her folded pajamas that had fallen from her hand. He saw the minute tightening around her eyes, the almost imperceptible catch in her breath as she straightened. And he knew.

“Baby? You okay?” he asked softly, his voice a low gravel in the quiet room. He was already moving, coming to stand next to her as she tried to stuff the pajamas into a corner of the suitcase.

She nodded quickly, a little too vigorously. “Yeah. I’m good. Just tired, my love,” she said, her voice bright with false energy. She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the solid warmth of his shoulder, hiding her expression in the familiar terrain of his skin and t-shirt. He held her, one large hand splayed against her back, the other coming up to cradle the back of her head. He didn’t call her out. He just held her, letting her hide, his silence more telling than any question.

***

It was rainy and dreary outside, a gray drizzle that slicked the asphalt and turned the city lights into smeared watercolor paintings. Solo drove the rented SUV, his large hands relaxed on the wheel, his gaze constantly flicking to the passenger seat. He studied her the whole drive over to the arena where Smackdown would be held that night. He noted the way she sat, not lounging, but positioned precisely, her weight shifted slightly to one side. He saw the subtle, instinctive wince that tightened her whole body when they hit a pothole, a flash of distress she smoothed away in a heartbeat. He noticed the way she held her own wrist, her thumb rubbing circles into the palm, a self-soothing gesture she was unaware of. He noticed everything she tried so desperately to hide, each piece of evidence cataloged in the quiet, observant vault of his mind.

They walked through the labyrinthine back halls of the arena, the air thick with the smell of popcorn, industrial cleaner, and sweat. His boots echoed on the concrete, a steady counterpoint to the softer sound of her sneakers. They reached his private locker room, a sanctuary of sorts, where Tama Tonga and Talla Tonga were already waiting, stretching and laughing about something on a phone.

“Sister!” Tama said, his face breaking into a wide grin. He enveloped her in a careful but hearty hug. Talla followed suit, his embrace gentler, his eyes knowing. They’d been around long enough, they’d seen the days she moved slower, the days her smiles were more brittle. They never mentioned it, just offered the solid, uncomplicated support of their presence.

She gave them a genuine smile, the first real one all day, and gratefully sank onto one of the long, low couches against the wall, stretching out with a soft sigh that was half relief, half pain. The boys went back to discussing the tag match Solo and Talla had that night, the strategy against their opponents, the flow of the match. Their voices were a comfortable rumble in the background.

As the anticipation of the night built, Tama and Talla started teasing each other, the energy morphing from focused to playful. A mock argument about who was the better dancer escalated into playful shoves, then into a wrestling tussle in the center of the room. They were laughing, a pillow from the couch was grabbed, thrown...it was harmless, brotherly chaos.

The pillow, aimed at Tama’s head, went wide. It sailed across the room and struck her leg, just above the knee.

It wasn’t hard. It was a pillow. But it landed directly on the epicenter of the fiery ache in her quadricep. A flinch ripped through her, sharp and involuntary, her breath hissing in between her teeth before she could stop it.

Solo saw it. He’d been watching her, not the boys.

“Guys!” he snapped, his voice cutting through the laughter like a whip. It was harsher than he meant, layered with a protective ferocity that startled even him. “Chill the fuck out or go do that shit outside.”

The room froze. Tama and Talla stopped, looking from Solo’s rigid back to her on the couch. The air tightened, stretched like taffy pulled to its snapping point. Then Talla’s eyes softened with understanding. He nodded once, a silent apology. Tama clapped a hand on Solo’s shoulder, a wordless *my bad*, and the tension dissipated as quickly as it had come, replaced by a respectful quiet. They went to catering to grab some food.

She hadn’t even noticed her eyes getting heavy, lulled by the warmth of the room and the ebb of adrenaline from the moment. But suddenly, she opened them, and the world had shifted. The room was dimmer, the only light coming from a single lamp. And Solo was there, standing across the room in his gear, the black and red shorts, the heavy boots, his thumb and wrist meticulously taped into a weapon. He was a portrait of controlled power, but he was looking at her, his expression soft in the low light.

“How long did I fall asleep for?” she asked, her voice husky with sleep, quiet as a secret.

Solo turned fully and smiled at her softly. That smile. It never failed to make her heart stutter, to send a warm, vulnerable pulse through her chest. Because he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world worth seeing, like everything else, the arena, the match, the crowd, was just background noise.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, walking over. He crouched in front of the couch, bringing himself to her level. “You slept about three hours. I figured you needed it.” He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead. His touch was infinitely gentle. “By the way…I got you some chicken and rice from catering. Plain, easy, A ginger ale.” He paused, his dark eyes holding hers. “And if you need it…”

He reached into his open duffle bag and pulled out the small, orange prescription bottle. Her pain medication. She tried not to use it too often, hated the fuzzy feeling, hated the idea of seeming weak, of needing a chemical crutch.

She sat up slowly, every movement deliberate, and blinked at him, the sleep and surprise mingling into a wave of overwhelming tenderness.

“Solo, you… you didn’t need to—”

He cut her off, not with words, but with that soft smile again. He sat on the edge of the couch next to her, taking her hand in both of his. He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them, a slow, deliberate press of warmth. “Yeah, I did, angel,” he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her hand. “I could tell in your sleep last night you were starting a flare. When you rolled over, you whimpered. You got that little wrinkle, right here.” He touched the space between her eyebrows. “And this morning…the way you moved, like you were calculating every step. The way you barely touched your breakfast. When I kissed your forehead, I knew you weren’t sick with a fever. It was…deeper than that. So…” He shrugged one massive shoulder, a gesture so simple it nearly broke her. “I just wanted you to be okay.”

Her eyes filled up with tears, hot and sudden, blurring his beloved face. She swiped at them hastily with the oversized sleeve of his hoodie, a choked sound escaping her.

“Solo… I don’t—how’d you…” she couldn’t finish, the words crumbling under the weight of his quiet, unwavering perception.

She was used to a different script. She was used to her pain being minimized, met with impatient sighs or well-intentioned but useless suggestions. She was used to being told she just wasn’t tough enough, that she needed to push through, that it wasn’t that bad, that maybe it was stress. She’d built walls around that part of herself, prepared for the doubt, armored against the disbelief.

But here he was. Solo Sikoa. One of the toughest, most feared men she’d ever known. A man who lived in a world of visible, applauded violence. And he had noticed the invisible war she was fighting even before she had fully acknowledged it herself. He had taken steps to help, quietly, without fanfare. He hadn’t made a big show of it, hadn’t demanded gratitude or used it as leverage. He just…saw her. And he acted.

“I watch you,” he said simply, as if explaining the most basic truth in the world. His thumb stroked the back of her hand. “You’re my favorite thing to see. I know when you’re hurting more than usual. I know when you’re getting overwhelmed by the noise, or overstimulated by the lights… I know the difference between your tired smile and your real one. I know you.”

The power of being seen... Like truly seen, in all her fragile, aching reality, and not just looked at, was overwhelming. It wasn’t a pitying observation; it was a form of devotion. It flooded her, warm and terrifying and beautiful, washing away the loneliness she hadn’t even let herself feel. She unwrapped her arms from around herself and instead wrapped them around him, pulling him close. She pressed her face to the side of his neck, breathing in the scent of his skin, and that underlying note of him that was just home. Her breath hitched, shaky against his collarbone.

They sat like that for a long while, his arms a solid band around her, her face hidden in the safe harbor of him. The distant roar of the arriving crowd was a muffled ocean.

Finally, he kissed her temple, his lips lingering. “Here,” he murmured, his voice back to its practical, caring tone. “Lay back down. I’ll turn the TV on low so you can watch my match from back here. You don’t need to walk all the way to Gorilla and sit in some uncomfortable plastic chair. Not tonight.”

He stood and, with a tenderness that belied his warrior’s physique, helped her settle back onto the couch. He grabbed his own hoodie from his bag, folded it with careful precision, and propped it under her head like a pillow. He then used the small microwave in the corner to warm the container of chicken and rice, brought it to her with a plastic fork, and placed the opened ginger ale on the floor within easy reach. He set the prescription bottle next to it, a silent, non-judgmental option. Every action was methodical, thoughtful, a silent liturgy of care.

He straightened up, looming over her for a moment, his expression shifting into one of playful command. “Now. I’m gonna go kick some ass. And then we are leaving. Straight back to the hotel. And I’m gonna run you a hot bath with those salts you like. And I’m gonna order whatever you want to eat, even if it’s just soup. And I’m gonna take care of my baby.” He pointed a finger at her, a mock-stern glint in his eye, though the crooked smile gave him away. “And she better not argue with me about it. Alright?”

She giggled, a soft, watery sound of pure affection, and reached up, squeezing his hand. “Yes, sir. No argument from me,” she teased, her voice still thick with emotion.

He playfully narrowed his eyes at her, the Solo Sikoa the world saw flickering in his gaze before it melted back into the man who was hers. “Now don’t go startin’ that,” he said, a slight laugh shaking his shoulders. “Tonight ain’t about that. Tonight is about being soft. Sweet. Me taking care of you.”

He leaned down, one last time, and captured her lips in a kiss that was a promise...soft, lingering, and filled with a depth of feeling that needed no words. Then, with a final brush of his thumb over her cheek, he turned and left the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him, leaving her in the quiet, dim room, surrounded by the tangible evidence of his care, her heart so full it almost made her forget the ache in her bones.

That night, after the match was done, a brutal, beautiful symphony of controlled chaos that ended with Solo and Talla standing victorious over the Motor City Machine Guns, the crowd’s roar still vibrating in the concrete bones of the arena, he came back to the locker room. He didn’t strut. He moved with a quiet, focused energy. He ran a quick, efficient shower, the water sluicing away the sweat, the grime of the ring, and the lingering adrenaline. He toweled off, the muscles in his back and shoulders moving like topography under his skin, and began to pack his gear with the same methodical care he’d shown earlier.

She watched him from the couch, tucked deep into the oversized hoodie, the hood drawn up so it framed her face like a sanctuary. Her eyes followed the familiar ritual: the careful folding of his taped wrist wraps, the zipping of the duffle, the way he pulled on a soft, worn T-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting pants. When he turned, finally dressed, shoes on, he caught her watching and a slow, easy laugh rumbled out of him.

“You’re gonna disappear, you burrow any further in there,” he teased, his voice warm and rough from the match. He was rewarded with a soft, genuine smile from the depths of the hoodie, one that reached her eyes and made them crinkle at the corners.

He could tell she’d taken one of her pills. Not two, that would have left her expression hazy, her movements delayed. This was just the one. It softened the sharp lines of pain around her mouth and eyes, leaving her looking peaceful, a little fuzzy around the edges, like a photograph with the focus gently pulled. It didn’t erase her; it just gave her a respite.

He walked over, his movements deliberately unhurried, and extended a hand. He helped her stand, his grip firm and grounding. He tossed his heavy duffle over one shoulder with effortless strength, then wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her into the solid warmth of his side, keeping her anchored against him as they navigated the emptying corridors.

He drove slower than normal back to the hotel, his large hand resting on the gear shift before eventually finding hers, lacing their fingers together on the center console. He avoided potholes and bumps with a driver’s concentration usually reserved for high-speed chases, each smooth mile a silent gift. His thumb stroked the back of her hand, a steady, rhythmic comfort.

When they got into the quiet sanctuary of their hotel room, he guided her to sit on the edge of the bed. He called room service, his voice low. “Chicken noodle soup, easy on the salt. And a grilled cheese, crispy but not burnt. Give us about an hour, please.” He hung up and began to slowly undress himself, down to his boxer briefs, his movements fluid in the dim lamplight. Then he disappeared into the bathroom.

She kicked off her sneakers and socks, the simple act a relief, and let herself fall backwards onto the cool duvet with a sigh. Soon, she heard the rush of water filling the tub, a steady, promising sound. Then, the air began to change, carrying the clean, sharp scent of eucalyptus and the calming sweetness of lavender, the bath salts she kept in her toiletry bag for the worst days. He’d remembered.

The bathroom door opened, spilling warm, steamy light into the bedroom. He walked over, a silhouette of gentle strength, and took her hand. “C’mon, baby. Lemme take care of you,” he said, his voice so soft it was almost a vibration in the quiet room.

She let him lead her into the cloud of fragrant steam. He turned her gently to face him, his hands going to the hem of her shirt and the hoodie. He pulled them slowly, carefully, up and over her head, his knuckles brushing her sides with a feather-light touch. He paused, cocking an eyebrow at the realization she hadn’t worn a bra, then a soft, incredulous laugh escaped him as he shook his head, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead, a kiss that said 'of course you didn’t, why would you, you were hurting'.

Then, in a move that stole the breath from her lungs, he knelt down in front of her. His hands went to the waistband of her leggings, his fingers deft and unhurried as he slid them down. He helped her step out of them, then her underwear, his movements reverent and slow. All the while, he looked up into her eyes, his own dark gaze holding hers with an intensity that felt like falling. He looked at her like he’d gotten lost in the depths of her and never, ever wanted to be found.

He stood, a fluid uncoiling of muscle, and pushed his own boxers down, stepping out of them. He stepped into the deep, steaming bath first and sat, the water rising around his waist. Then he reached for her, his hands strong and sure on her hips, guiding her in, turning her, and pulling her back to settle against the broad plane of his chest. The water was perfect, hot enough to seep into her aching joints and muscles, but not scalding. It enveloped her, and his arms enveloped her within it.

For a long time, she just lay there, her head lolled back against his shoulder, her eyes closed. He didn’t speak. His hands began to move, slick with the fragrant water. He started with her arms, his palms sliding in slow, sweeping motions from her shoulders to her wrists, then back up. Then his hands moved to her hips, his thumbs tracing gentle, non-invasive circles over the sorest points, not pressing to work out the pain, just soothing the space around it. He moved to her knees, his touch a whisper against her skin. It was not a massage; it was an act of benediction.

After a while, he reached for the plastic cup he’d placed on the tub’s edge. He filled it and slowly poured the warm water over her hair, thoroughly wetting it. Then he squeezed a dollop of her shampoo into his palm and began to lather it into her scalp. His fingers worked in soft, gentle circles, kneading the tension from the base of her skull, trailing through the strands with infinite care. The tenderness of it, the sheer domestic intimacy of this fearsome man washing her hair with the focus of a sacred ritual, built a pressure behind her eyes. She bit her lip, keeping the tears at bay, for now.

He rinsed her hair with cup after cup of clear water, his hand shielding her eyes. Then he took the bar of soap and began to wash her body. His hands moved over her shoulders, down her back, over her ribs. When he washed her breasts, cupping the warm, soapy water over them, his touch was devoid of any sexual intent. It was pure, unadulterated care. A cleansing. A claiming of a different kind. He washed her stomach, her legs, her feet, attending to every part of her as if it were precious.

By the time he was finished, rinsing the last of the soap from her skin, she realized there were silent tears tracking down her cheeks, mixing with the bathwater. She didn’t sob; she just overflowed.

She had never been taken care of like this. Not ever. She’d been loved, in ways, but never with this degree of selfless, meticulous reverence. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t obligation. It was a conscious, intentional act of seeing her need and meeting it with absolute, unwavering grace. It made something bloom wide and hot in her chest, a feeling that had been germinating for years, moreso since the slow, inevitable shift from best friend to something more. But this? This act of kneeling service, this silent liturgy of comfort, cemented it. It gave the feeling a name, a weight, a permanence.

Love.

She felt loved, utterly and completely. And she loved him. The words had hovered between them for weeks, a palpable, unspoken presence. They felt huge, tectonic. To say them would change the axis of their world. But here, in the warm, scented water, held against the steady beat of his heart, it didn’t feel scary. It felt like the only true thing left in the universe.

She sat with that revelation, letting it settle into her bones, as she leaned against him in the quiet. The only sounds were the soft lap of water and the synchronized rhythm of their breathing.

“C’mon,” he murmured eventually, his lips brushing her damp temple. “Let’s get you up and dressed so we can get your food when it gets here, baby.” He kissed her cheek when she nodded.

He moved first, rising from the water with a soft cascade, and stepped out. He dried himself quickly with a plush towel before slipping into a clean pair of boxers and soft shorts. Then, he turned back to her, extending a hand. He helped her rise, water streaming from her body, and immediately wrapped her in a warm, dry towel, rubbing her arms gently. He took one of his own oversized T-shirts, soft from countless washes, and pulled it over her head, guiding her arms through the sleeves. He fetched the hair dryer, set it on low, and carefully dried her hair, his fingers combing through the strands until they were fluffy and warm.

Then, he did it again. He knelt. He picked up her clean, folded underwear and, holding them open, guided her feet into the leg holes. He pulled them up for her, his hands smoothing the fabric over her hips so she didn’t have to bend or strain. The act was so profoundly simple, so devastatingly kind, it took her breath away all over again.

He stood and kissed her softly, his thumb stroking the damp curve of her cheek. He gave her a smile that was all quiet joy, then turned to walk out of the bathroom, giving her space.

She couldn’t hold it in anymore. The words were a living thing in her throat, beating to get out. As he passed, she grabbed his hand and tugged him back. He turned, a question in his eyes, his hands coming to rest naturally on her hips.

“Solo, I—…” she faltered. Her hands, which had come up to rest against his chest, were trembling.

He stilled, his gaze searching her face. “What? What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper, as if sensing the magnitude of the moment.

She looked up at him in the dim, steamy light of the bathroom, her eyes shining with fresh, unashamed tears, and a smile broke through, radiant and sure. “I…I love you.” The words were so soft, so airy, he thought for a second he’d imagined them, conjured them from the deepest wish of his own heart.

He blinked. A hurricane of emotions, shock, wonder, disbelief, and a staggering, soaring joy, swept across his face. He let out a breathy, incredulous laugh, his hands tightening almost imperceptibly on her hips. “Baby…say that again.” His voice was husky, a plea wrapped in awe. “I—please? Say it again.”

She giggled, the sound light and free, the last of the pain and tension melting away under the warmth of his gaze. She slid her arms fully around his neck, feeling loose, feeling better, feeling loved.

“I love you,” she said, stronger now, the words solid and real in the space between them.

He closed his eyes, a soft chuckle of pure, unadulterated happiness shaking his shoulders. He leaned his forehead against hers, their breath mingling. “God…” he whispered, the word a prayer. “I love you too, baby. So much. I have for…well, a few years now, but…” He trailed off with a small, helpless shrug that made her laugh, the admission so perfectly, awkwardly him.

Then he kissed her.

It was soft, and deep, and endless. The kind of kiss that makes your toes curl into the plush bathmat and your soul feel like it’s finally come home. It was a promise, an affirmation, a sealing of the truth they’d both just spoken into existence.

The room was surrounding her with lustful intentions.

She knew she shouldn’t be here.

Knew she shouldn’t have stepped into his territory, shouldn’t have let her eyes linger on him longer than necessary, shouldn’t have let that feeling settle deep in her stomach.

But she needed this.

Needed something.

Solo hadn’t touched her in weeks. Maybe months. The cold distance between them had grown unbearable, his focus entirely on business, on duty, on the Bloodline.

And now?

Now she stood across from his kryptonite—Roman. She was dressed in a pair of leather pants and a red corset top with a some black boots that gave her an extra four inches of height. He wore a black fitted T-shirt along with black sweats that left little to no imagination at what he was packing.

His dark eyes roamed over her slowly, as if he was computing what was happening right here. She could also detect something else, amusement.

“Look at you,” Roman murmured, his tone riddled with something she couldn’t quite name. “You must be desperate to come crawling to me.”

She swallowed, heat creeping up her neck. “I wouldn’t call it crawling.”

Roman smirked. “Nah? Then what would you call it, sweetheart?”

She exhaled sharply, clenching her jaw. She hated how easily he could read anybody’s energy. She also hated the way her body reacted to his presence, how just his voice was enough to make her knees feel weak.

Actually it was enough to make the world’s knees weak.

He took a step closer.

Then another.

“Solo don’t take care of you no more, huh?” His voice was taunting, but there was something real underneath it. “Left you out in the cold?”

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

Roman tilted his head, his smirk deepening as his fingers lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You want me to fix your little problem, don’t you?”

Her heartbeat pounded.

His grip on her chin tightened just enough to send a shiver down her spine. “You know what it’ll cost you, though.”*

She knew.

Roman wasn’t just offering himself.

He was offering something more.

A new path. A new loyalty.

“You wanna feel wanted again?” His voice was velvet, dripping with a haunting promise. “Then say it. Say you belong to me now.”

Her pulse roared in her ears.

And then—

“I belong to you, my Tribal Chief.”

Roman’s smirk faded, replaced with something dangerous.

“Such a good little slut..”

And then he was on her.

His mouth crashed against hers, hot, demanding, claiming. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her against him, making her feel everything she had been missing.

She fell apart.

Because this was what she had been starving for.

Roman was everywhere, his hands rough, his lips scorching, his presence so overwhelming that she couldn’t think—didn’t want to think.

He shoved her against the wall, his breath hot against her ear. “Gonna remind you how it feels to be taken care of, baby.”

She let out a shaky exhale, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Please my Tribal Chief…”

Roman growled low in his throat. “Damn. You really been neglected, huh?”

She barely had time to answer before he was lifting her, wrapping her legs around his waist, his hands gripping her thighs possessively. She felt that impossibly large cock nudge against her and couldn’t wait to feel it inside of her.

“Mine now,” he muttered, dragging his lips down her neck, his teeth scraping just enough to make her gasp. “Ain’t that right?”

“Yes,” she whispered, breathless. “I’m Yours.”

Roman chuckled darkly. “That’s what I thought.”

Then—

The phone rang.

She barely registered it at first, too caught up in the feel of him, but then—

Roman grabbed it.

Her eyes widened as he turned the screen toward her.

Solo.

Her stomach twisted. “Roman—”

“Shhh,” he murmured, answering the call. “Let’s make this interesting.” Her legs released from him as her brain hardwired what was about to happen.

And her heart broke as it began to become real.

“Where the hell you at?” Solo’s voice was sharp, angry. “I been calling you all night.”

Roman smirked, his eyes locked onto hers as he moved against her, making her body react.

“She’s a little… tied up right now,” Roman said smoothly, his voice laced with pure sin. “Ain’t that right, baby?”

Her pulse spiked.

Solo froze on the other end. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Roman pressed his lips to her ear, his breath sending a shiver down her spine. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Let him hear you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, her body betraying her, a moan slipping past her lips as Roman shoved his free hand quickly down into her jeans. His perfect hands gliding over folds and clit. She let out another moan as Roman slightly rubbed the bead of nerves.

The sound of Solo’s rage was instant. “I swear to fucking god, I’ll—”

Click.

Roman tossed the phone.

He grinned down at her, dark amusement showing in his gaze. “Well,” he murmured, his hand continuing the slow ministration of her rubbing her clit, “guess we better make this worth it, huh?”

And with that—

He ruined her.

You look up at your professor as he continues his lecture, his bright blue eyes looking around the room, but always ending on you. Seeing the slight quiver of his mouth as he tries not to smile at you. His eyes roaming back around the room. He could try to deny it all he wanted, but he had mesmerized you.

He was extremely attractive, but there was something about the way he always found your gaze. How he would make an excuse to walk past you, his arm grazing along your skin. Even the way he would ask you to hang back after class so he could discuss your paper. His large body always looming over you, while you couldn’t think properly with his expensive Tom Ford cologne. He was intoxicating.

Sexy didn’t even describe Professor Solo. His pores wept of pure raw sex. Walking past your desk, to stand beside you. His hand clamping down on your shoulder while he continued his speech. The low timbre of his voice going straight to your core. You were always a sloppy mess in here. Ruining your panties every time he opened your mouth.

“I hope you guys have a great spring break. Papers will be due when you get back,” the class groans, but he grips tighter to your shoulder, and you sit stoically. “It’s been a semester long paper. Had you decided to work on it before now, you would have your entire spring break. Class dismissed,” he says, releasing your arm.

Solo says your name softly, leaning over your body, “Please, stay after class. I have something I need to discuss.”

The class leaves, while you sit, waiting patiently until the last student leaves. He walks calmly over to the door, and closes it. This time, turning the lock, before he walks back to where you're sitting. Opting to sit on the desk in front of you.  Raised up higher than you, and making you feel even smaller. A perfect view of your cleavage. He knew you were trying to get his attention. But you had it a long time ago. A young girl, eager to please, and very responsive to praise. He wanted you. Wanted to own you, and you were making it oh so very easy.

He whispers your name again, before holding out a paper, “I went over this, and I’m glad you didn’t turn it in as your final draft. You do better work than this,” he gulps when you play with that ever present choker around your neck. He knows exactly what would look better. “You’re better than this.”

“I, uh…I just, um…”

“Speak up. You need to say exactly what it is you mean.”

“I just,” you start taking a deep breath, and he gives you a warm smile, “I was needing some extra help on it. Like…extra curricular help?”

He gives you a smirk, and you bow your head in shame. Your blood pulsing through every part of your body, maybe you had misread all the signals he was giving you. You had crossed a line with your professor, and now you were just humiliated. “Look at me,” you look back up at him, and his hand goes to cup your cheek. Your mouth automatically opens, ready to be stuffed with his thumb.

“Oh, you are a sweet little Pet, hmm?” The praise goes straight to your core, as your cunt clenches around nothing. “You have done so well this semester. I was hoping eventually your dumb baby brain would pick up on everything. Close your mouth,” you close it immediately. Eyes moving to his crotch, and you preen at the sight of his swollen slacks.

Handing over your paper, he nods at you, “I’m sure that page three will help you with what you’re needing. Only take that advice, if you’re ready to indulge me. It’s an intense paper I know, but it’s so rewarding. You may go. Enjoy your break.”

You give him a pout, but stand, walking out of the room, and it isn’t until you flip to page three, that he gave you his address on a sticky note. You didn’t care how intense he was, you were ready to have him more than just for a teacher.

“You wanted my attention, you got it,” Solo says as he looks your body up and down. You had come prepared. Such a needy little thing. He knew that he was making you weak in class, by every bite of your pen, every switching of your legs, the squeezing of your thighs, the trembling and even whimpering when he touched you. You were weak for him, and that’s just how he wanted you.

Ready to do whatever his sick and twisted mind wanted. And all he wanted was a pretty little pet to dress up and play with. His large body walks around yours, and your gaze turns to the floor below. “Kneel,” without hesitation you get to your knees, still too scared to look up at him. “How will I know that you are mine even when we’re out in the open?”

“Sir?”

“I just want an outward sign that you are mine. My Pet.”

Your tongue darts out of your mouth, and you lick your lips slowly, “Your pet?” He gives a single nod, and you go weak. Body twitching around, “So you would use me as your toy?”

“Of course. Show my authority to you, and you take it like the bitch in heat you are,” audibly you whimper, and his cock twitches. You were perfect. It had taken most of the semester, but he took his time relishing in your obedience.

“A collar?”

“I was hoping you would say that. A collar for here, but a beautiful necklace out there,” he points towards the door, and you follow his finger, giving him a nod. He pulls out a necklace, holding it up, when you spot the Greek letters on there. “Alpha Kappa Omega.”

“I thought that was a myth,” you gulp looking up at him. You were too far gone, but you had heard of that fraternity.  That brotherhood.  An almost secret society.  Had heard the rumblings of the Professor, the Coordinator, it was the very man that stood before you.

“No, sweetheart. It’s very real. Would you want to be with one the founders?”

“I’m…I’m your Omega?”

“You are. I’m your Alpha, and I captured you, didn’t I?” you nod your head, looking up at the beautiful necklace. It looked innocent enough, but it held a secret on it. The most elite of secret societies, and he wanted you as his.

“Please, sir,” switching the necklace for a black leather collar instead, you were in his home after all. He walks behind you, cuffing your hands with leather as well, before ripping your dress, and pulling out your tits. Giving a sinister smile at the pebbled peaks.

“Just how wet are you? Stand up,” he gives a little chuckle as you try to right yourself up, but you finally make it. Spreading out your legs wide, and he finally touches you on your quivering cunt. Moaning at your slicked up folds, and he gives your swollen bundle of nerves a quick pinch. “You’re drenched.”

Grabbing a hold of your nipple, pulling it he guides you out of the foyer, and into the living room.

“On the couch. Ass up in the air, so I can see that pretty sloppy pussy,” with difficulty, you get to your knees. Your face smooshed on the cushion and ass in the air, and he sits down beside you. Grabbing up the remote, he mindlessly tries to find something to watch.  Completely ignoring your leaking cunt and desperate self.

Giving your glistening folds a quick look. He sinks his fingers into your waiting cunt. His finger slowly pumps into you, while he looks back at the tv. It was infuriating and humiliating for him to use you for his own pleasure, and still your whore hole just gets wetter. The idea of becoming his pet and play toy exciting you. “Does it feel good like this?” he asks, adding a second finger. You give him a satisfied moan, and nod your head.

“Or is this better?” adding his third finger, and you feel a slight sting.  But still he doesn’t look at how well you’re taking him.

“Much better.”

He could try to pretend he didn’t care, but his eyebrows raise with every sweet sound you make. “What is it that’s turning you on, My Pet? My fingers, the fact I’m not even looking at the way I have you stretched around them, or because I’m using you like the needy little slut you are? You don’t care how I touch you, as long as I just use you, hmm?”

“Yes, sir,” he presses his thumb against your clit, and you see stars. Your body twitches around, and he gives your ass a hard smack.

“You’re getting the fourth finger. Move again, and you get my whole fist. Just learn how to take it. Quit the whining,” you yelp at the added stretch, but remain still. Living in the moment of Solo having you like this. “I gotta prepare you for my fat cock. Or do you think you can take it? Wanna have tears streaming down your face because I haven’t prepared you? They always cry. They never last because it’s just too much for their pathetic little cunts. Do you think you can handle it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are already so much more obedient than the others.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Fuck,” he says looking over at your pussy swallowing four of his fingers. “Yeah, like that. I think she could take me. You’re going to be so sore tomorrow. Good thing we have all week to break her in,” he pulls out his hand, moaning at the string of your arousal that follows his retreating hand. “Oh, she’s good and juicy.”

Undoing his shirt, he slings it over the couch, and you finally get to see his chiseled body. Larger than any man you had ever been with. Thick sinewed lines of muscle. A luscious patch of hair leading straight to the prize you were ready to beg for. Slowly taking his pants off you watch that glorious cock pop up. He was thick. Massive even. Heavy with the prettiest vein that you wanted to follow with your tongue.

You had never taken anyone of his size, and even with your murmured voice and whining, he smiles, “Oh you’re gonna take it,” he wasn’t just thick, his length looked like he was going to be in your stomach. Rearranging your guts, and expecting you to thank him for it, “Get over here, and take it like a good Pet.”

“My hands.”

“You’ve desperately wanted my cock this whole semester, and being cuffed is going to keep you from it?”

“No, sir,” you whisper. Going to stand up, you straddle him. Hovering over his cock, you realize just how large and menacing it was.

With his hands tight on your hips, he guides you to that delicious cock, and helps you sink over it. A strained whine makes its way up your throat as your pussy burns at the stretch. Moving so slowly you feel every inch, every ridge, every vein, and every bit of him. He coaxes you down further, wanting you to take every bit of him, until your hole is gaping and tender.

Mewling when he finally settles somewhere in your stomach. Swearing you feel him all the way in your mouth. “Such a good Pet. Look at you taking every bit of me. It wasn’t that hard was it?” you shake your head no, and it falls forward to his shoulder. “Oh, it’s got this pitiful little sex puppy already fucked out. Do I need to use your body?”

“Please, sir.”

“You can’t even think, huh? So pitiful. Got you all stretched out, and you’ve gone dumb with that. I’m going to have so much fun with you, my sweet,” his hands lift you off of him, before letting gravity take over, and you scream up his name. “Little,” doing the motion again, you start to see stars. “Dumb,” another time has you gasping for air. “Puppy,” you wail. Head tilting to the ceiling where you repeat please over and over again.

“You want me to stop?” you shake your head no. “You’re gonna cum, and I have barely fucked you, huh?” He slams you over his length, and you’re thankful he can think. You feel blissed out, with very little effort. It would take a long time to adjust to his cock. Months before your pussy was molded to him. But you would do it.  It would be your greatest honor.

“It’s yours,” you mumble, your words slurring as pleasure ripples through your veins.

“Oh, I know. You’re gonna let me do whatever I want, hmm?”

“Yes, sir. Whatever you want,” with a maniacal chuckle, he goes on a rampage. Fucking your body over him, and leaving your a writhing mess. Feeling so stuffed and full, and so utterly destroyed. He had ruined you. You were going to be his special pet. Take the initiation like a champ, and surely it couldn’t be worse than his giant cock.

Pushing and pulling you on his cock, you just about pass out multiple times. It was so much, too much, and you reveled in it. Delighted at his simple praises of being able to take him. Not caring about the tears that cascade your face, it was just Professor Solo. “I’m…I’m…”

“Oh, I know you are. I feel this tight pussy clenching around me. Let go, so I can fuck you when you pass out. Gotta get you used to me. They always cry, always pass out, but you can handle it. You're getting my pleasure now, sweet Pet.”

“Mmhmm. So good,” your head lulls back when he pushes you down hard. Eyes rolling in the back of your head, when you finally scream out his name. Speaking in tongue, but he knew exactly what you needed.

“So much fun with you, My Pet. Mine. Forever.”

Next

Masterlist

Solo had just gotten backstage from his most recent match. You were waiting in his dressing room for him to come back. The door opens slowly as a tired looking Solo walks in, drenched in sweat as he close the door behind him. He approaches you and you pass him the towel you had waiting. Wiping his face, chest and arms. No words were spoken. That was just how it was with you and Solo. Words didn't have to be exchanged to express the love you had for each other.

You pressed a soft kiss onto his lips as you threw him his clothes. You kissed his cheek and told him to meet you at the car when he's done. Minutes had passed as you waited in the drivers seat with the car on, you hummed along to music as you went on your phone. The passenger door open and in came your boyfriend. You kissed him and started driving.

Driving through the city and seeing bright, blinding lights in every corner was beautiful but tiring. You could tell it was taking a toll on Solo as he was asleep in the passenger seat. You giggled to yourself and continued driving.

You got into the parking lot of the hotel you and Solo were staying in for the show. You take out the keys and lightly shake Solo awake. He opens his eyes and thanks you for waking him up. You both get out of the car into the freezing cold. You start walking to the elevator and Solo slithers his arm around your body. Hand resting on your once cold shoulder.

The door opens and you both step in, pressing buttons as you both rest your back on the wall. You lift your hand and place it on top of Solo's hand. Caressing his hand and dragging your thumb up and down his skin.

You landed on your hotels level and you both stepped out. You stopped in your tracks in front of the door and unlock it. Taking steps onto the soft carpet. You ushered Solo into the bathroom and ran out to go to his suitcase. You picked out loose grey sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. You brought them to him and set them on the bathroom counter.

You left the bathroom as well as the hotel to let your boyfriend have a while to himself. You got back into your car and started it back up. Driving to the nearest takeout restaurant. Ordering 2 meals and taking them back to the car. The drive felt so quick, all you could focus on was getting back to Solo. You step back into the hotel and place the food on the bed.

Your sweetheart had gotten out of the bathroom and smiled on the sweet action you did for him. He sat down on the bed and grabbed your jaw to bring you into a heart-melting kiss. You turned on the tv and started indulging in your food.

You had both finished so you had stood up to take the trash out to the bin. "Y/N, you really don't have to do that. " You shushed him and put the remains in the bin. You sat back in bed and got under the covers. Lifting up part of the blanket and telling him to get in. You placed his head on your chest and cradled his head.

You grabbed the tv's remote and found the movies section, You put on Call me by your name. Kissing his forehead and rubbing soft circles on his back. "You did good tonight" He pressed a soft kiss on your neck. Feeling the prickly hairs of his face on your skin. You giggled at the familiar feeling.

Halfway through the movie you noticed Solo still wasn't asleep. "How are you not asleep by now?" You said, Confused look painted across your face. "Can you.. Read to me?" He said softly. You smiled and pulled out the book you had been reading opening it up to the page you were last on. Inhaling before reading the top of the page.

Soon enough you were tired, You looked down to see your boyfriend blacked out with absolutely no sign of getting up anytime soon. You smiled to yourself, putting down the book and turning the tv down. your eyes began closing as you entered your deep sleep.

:D

Slowly he reached up, his hand coming up past your face, before grabbing a small orange and yellow leaf that had been sitting on your beanie hat. Holding it between his fingers in front of you, he met your eyes with a small smile “Make a wish?”

“Isn’t that for eyelashes?” you asked quietly, taking the leaf as he handed it to you, his fingers lingering under yours for a moment before he pulled his hand away. 

“Yes, but you should always take a chance where you can get it” he took one last look at you before he forced himself to step away, turning he took a step away as he adjusted his suit jacket. 

You smiled as you twirled the leaf through your fingers as you made a silent wish before slipping it into your coat pocket. Looking back up, you smiled as you approached Solo, reaching up, you removed a small rust colored leaf from his shoulder. 

Feeling the pressure, Solo looked over his shoulder before turning seeing you remove the leaf. You met his eyes with a smile, holding it up “Now you get a wish” 

He smiled, taking it from your hand, his fingers lingering on yours for a second like he had before. Looking at the leaf, he made a wish to himself before looking back at you with a light smile, which you returned. 

Solo turned away from you sightly, his eyes landing on the large clock on a nearby church bell-tower “Well, shall we?” he asked reaching out his arm for you to take “Peril will be angry if we’re late”

You chuckled as you looped your arm through him and fell into a steady pace as you continued through the park “He’s always angry”

Solo chuckled as he stuck the leaf in his jacket pocket without you seeing “That is certainly true” 

~Two Months Later~

As you stared out the window as the snow fluttered down over the small European city, you could see the nearby colorful lights from the Christmas tree placed in the town square. You turned back at the sound of Solo coming back into the room. His eyes landed on you momentarily as he set down his briefcase.

“Anything exciting happen?” you asked, rising from your seat at the window sill.

“No, went exactly as planned. Placed the tracker in the car. Now we wait” 

You hummed in response as you wandered over to a chair in front of the fireplace. Watching as Solo tossed another log onto the flames. 

Solo and you had been paired up to check in on a possible terror organization, and now you were sharing a small flat. You had been dancing around each other recently, ever since that day in the park a couple months previous. You were still afraid Solo would not be willing to have a long-term relationship, and Solo was afraid he’d hurt you, and afraid that you would not trust him. But now, having to spend all your time around each other, you couldn’t hide from your feelings as easily as you could before. 

Leaning back into the cushioned couch, you rose your legs, so your whole body was resting in the chair, turning your head, you stared into the flickering fireplace. Solo sat across from you, his eyes grazing over your figure before they landed on your face. Solo had recently come to the realization that it did not matter how much he tried to distance himself from you, or ignore his feelings. Nothing he did stopped them, in fact, they only ever made them grow.

Glancing over at Solo, you see him staring at you, his face reflecting the same expression he had on his face that day in the park, the same expression that made your heart beat rapidly. 

“What?” you asked quietly. 

You could see the realization that he had been staring cross his face as he rose his brow, adjusting his posture “Nothing, sorry” You frowned slightly, wondering if you should question him more, but before you could he cleared his throat and sat up “Actually, I lied, there is something”

“What is it?” 

“I- “ he hesitated “I’m not quite sure how to explain what I need to clearly” he frowned as he stared at the fire. 

“It’s okay. We have the time” you said quietly, nervous. 

He looked at you now “Yes. But I fear I’ve already wasted some of the time I could have had” his voice was so sincere, it almost sounded sad. Staring at you for another moment, he suddenly rose, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet before sitting back down.

Opening the leather case he pulled out a small handkerchief. He stared at it for a moment before he handed it to you. You gazed at it in wonder as you looked at him, he gestured his head towards it, giving you permission to open it.

Slowly unfolding it in the palm of your hand, your heart began to pound in your chest, and the oh-so familiar butterflies returned as you saw the corner of a rusty brow leaf. Opening the handkerchief completely, you stared down at the familiar leaf in surprise. “It’s the leaf I pulled off your jacket” you couldn’t tell if you were asking or confirming. You knew it was the same leaf, but you didn’t want to assume to much. 

“Yes” Solo said, confirming anyway. 

You looked up at him for a moment before setting it on the small table nearby, rising and walking over to your bag. Solo stared at you in confusion, his own stomach tied in knots as he wondered if he had freaked you out. 

Turning back towards him, you now had a book in your hands. Solo recognized it, you always had it with you recently, though he only ever saw you occasionally reading it.

Walking back over, you sat down again, handing Solo the book. He took it with a raise of his brow, now knit in confusion. Naturally, he opened the book to the page the bookmark was set. 

His heart seemed to leap in his chest as he realized what the bookmark was. Two thin pieces of plastic, encased around, and protecting, a small brown leaf. Even though the color faded, he still knew exactly what it was. 

His eyes rose to meet yours, clearly nervous. Solo smiled as he glanced back over at the leaf he had kept on his person at all times since that day. Looking back at the homemade bookmark, he gently stroked it “Well. I suppose, there was more meaning in those leaves for both of us than we thought there would be.” 

You smiled lightly as you took the book back as he handed it too you “Did you actually make a wish on it?” you asked softly, your mind replaying the own wish you had made.

“Of course” he smiled “Did you?” 

“Of course” you repeated as you gently handed back his handkerchief, leaf still placed gently inside. 

Carefully refolding it he spoke quietly “It sort of became a lucky charm in my mind I suppose” 

“Mine did too” you smiled, as you hugged the book against your chest.

Solo watched as you did so, as a small burst of confidence flowed through him “Do you want to know what I wished for?” 

“Wouldn’t that negate the wish all together?” 

He smiled lightly “I think the only way for it to really come true is if I do tell you” Moving out from his chair, he was suddenly kneeling on the floor in front of you, staring up into your eyes, setting the book on the chair beside you, he moved to take your hands in his, pausing for a moment as he stared into your eyes, he finally spoke, his voice quiet, yet bold “I wished for you”

If your heart could have burst through your chest it would have in that moment, as you stared down into his bright sincere gaze “Me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He nodded ever so slightly as he continued “I was afraid you would not want to be with me, given my...reputation. So, I tried to avoid my feelings, only wishing to have you, thinking it might never be possible. But. “ he paused, wracking his brain for the proper words as he looked down at your hands, intertwined with his “But, I cannot seem to let go of the possibility of you giving me a chance to be with you, to- to protect you, and make you happy, and to love you” as he finished, he brought his gaze back up to yours. 

You stared at him in silent shock as he spoke, his voice low but determined and honest. He finished, with a sense of hope in his eyes “I will respect whatever your decision is, but I must hope, that, because you kept your leaf as well, that there must be something of a similar feeling here”

You pushed down the shock that still echoed through your body. There was so much you wanted to say to him, so many thoughts wracking through your mind. “I wished for the same thing. You”. Solo stared at you for a brief moment before a smile broke across his face as you continued “There is more I want to say, but I- I-”

Your sentence was cut off as Solo’s hands moved from yours to your face as he quickly leaned up, bringing his lips to your own. The kiss was passionate yet gentle, your own hands moved to his wrists as you returned the kiss. 

Pulling away briefly he spoke “There’s no need to say anymore right now” you smiled at his words just as he brought you in for another kiss, this time, his hands wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer to him. Your hands wrapped around the base of his neck as you both were finally able to give into the feelings you had repressed so forcefully. Feelings you had kept close to your hearts, safely hidden in a pair of autumn leaves. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Also, for those who are curious. U.N.C.L.E is an acronym for United Network Command for Law and Enforcement.  

his boots thudding against the metal floor of the falcon pricked your ears, you swiveling around in the chair. a wide grin enveloped your lover’s features, his eyes bright, a dreamy expression painted across his face. 

“boy am i happy to see you, my lovely lady.”

“hello han,” you felt a giggle rise in your throat, “how did the trip go?”

“it was a success,” he shrugged, leaning against a console, “the only trouble we ran into was-”

the sickeningly sweet scent flooded your nostrils, your nose wrinkling in disgust, “do not tell me you are drenched head to toe in what i think you’re covered in.”

typically, sex pollen was rare. however, with han and chewie roaming space, they were bound to run into at some point. however, it didn’t help that your hormones were elevated, as you had been missing your dashing pilot all day while he was out. where and how he got it all over him, you weren’t sure, but you were intrigued nonetheless. you wanted to see how it would affect your lover. 

a sly smirk crept onto the smuggler’s face, “well, well, well, i think you know exactly what i got into.”

“sex pollen,” you rolled your eyes, snorting, “how lovely.”

“hey,” han pouted, strolling up to you. he placed his hands on the armrests, practically pinning you against the leather of the chair, “all i could think about on the way back to the falcon was how badly i wanted to taste you. to taste that sweet pussy of yours.”

“han,” your breath hitched in your throat, “you’re not yourself right now.”

“oh come on babygirl,” he cooed, a hand cupping your cheek, brushing a strand of hair from your face, “i know that you wouldn’t ever turn down me eating you out. or fucking you. we both know we love sex a little too much.”

“do you even hear the words coming out of your mouth right now?” your eyes connected with his. 

his warm chestnut eyes glowed in the dim light, pupils dilated with lust, “i think we should do a little less talking and a little more fucking.”

“i hate you,” you scoffed. 

“babygirl,” han pleaded, “i need you. i need my princess.”

you bit your lip, “where did chewie go?”

“i could care less where the fuck he went,” han’s voice filled your ear, his voice low as his fingers wrapped around your throat, “all i care about right now is making sure that my princess gets what she deserves. a nice, rough, fucking where i make her see stars. is that too hard to ask?”

his tone, along with his hand around your neck, sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. you felt your wetness begin to pool between your thighs, sending a ripple of anticipation through your core. never had you seen han so desperate. so needy. and it was all for you. 

“are you going to let daddy do as he pleases princess?” he inquired, nipping your ear. 

“yes han,” you nodded. 

he squeezed gently, “that’s a good girl baby. how about you bend over this console for me?”

you obeyed, han allowing you to slip out of the chair. bending over the console, you felt his hands roam your body, savoring every inch and curve. his hands palmed your ass cheeks, gripping your skin desperately over the fabric. without warning, he spanked you, the sound dull as it echoed through the falcon.