????? ?????~~ -- sokeefe oneshots

I THOUGHT THIS WAS LOWKEY CUTE AND POSESSIVE AND HOT-

Sophie barely had time to register Keefe's presence before she was suddenly pinned against the wall.

His hands caged her in, pressing against the cool surface on either side of her head. His breath was hot against her skin, his ice-blue eyes burning into hers with something dark and unreadable.

"Whose jersey are you wearing, Foster?" His voice was low, dangerously smooth.

Sophie swallowed hard, her heart hammering in her chest. She hadn't even thought about it when she threw on the oversized shirt—Leo had lent it to her after practice, nothing more. But the way Keefe was looking at her now, like a predator toying with his prey, made her legs weak.

"U-uh..." She licked her lips, suddenly aware of how close they were. "Leo's."

The moment the name left her mouth, Keefe's jaw tightened.

"Oh?" His tone was mocking, but the tension rolling off him was very real. "You could have asked for mine."

Sophie opened her mouth to respond, but he didn't give her the chance.

In one swift move, he grabbed the fabric of the jersey, and pulled it off her. She was left in nothing but her bra, now that the jersey was fallen to the floor, forgotten. She shivered, and he moved closer, letting her feel his body heat. Then, before she could even process it, his lips crashed against hers.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't sweet.

It was hungry.

Desperate.

Claiming.

Sophie whimpered into the kiss as Keefe pressed her harder against the wall, his grip tightening on her waist. His other hand slid up to tangle in her hair, tugging slightly—just enough to make her gasp against his lips.

He took full advantage of it, deepening the kiss, devouring her like she was something he owned.

When he finally pulled away, just barely, his forehead rested against hers. His breath was ragged, but his smirk was back.

"So, next game," he muttered, his voice sending shivers down her spine, "whose jersey are you wearing?"

Sophie's breath hitched. She couldn't think, couldn't even breathe properly, but she knew the answer he wanted.

"Y-yours," she whispered.

Keefe's lips brushed against her ear, his voice like velvet.

"Correct answer, Princess."

And then he kissed her again.