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p0orbaby · 29 days ago

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Extinguish the Flames with Some Champagne and Pills

summary: your may or may not be in denial about your feelings for alexia

warnings: mention of smut, alcohol and drugs and nothing major

a/n: a whole lot of words based on this request. set after this but you don’t have to read it if you don’t want to

word count: 3k

You’ve been ignoring Alexia’s messages for weeks now, every one of them its own little bomb you’re too terrified to defuse. Every time her name pops up on your screen, your stomach flips, your breath catches, and you somehow experience the full spectrum of human emotion in a split second. But mostly there’s terror and something closer to shame than you’d like to admit.

It’s a game of avoidance that doesn’t come easily to you; after all, you’re usually the one with a glib reply or some devil-may-care response, the kind of person who thrives on chaos. But this time, it’s different. This time, there’s something closer to shame nestled beneath the familiar terror, a sensation like a splinter lodged deep under the skin—small enough to ignore at first but persistent enough to drive you mad.

Your friends—of course, always your friends—keep bringing her up, as if they can somehow sense the crisis you’re trying to keep contained. It’s usually after a few cocktails too many, when your circle is gathered around a dimly lit table in some trendy restaurant or at a rooftop bar where the music is loud enough to drown out the awkward pauses but not loud enough to stifle their teasing. “She’s the best footballer in the world,” they slur with a kind of drunken reverence, like they’re invoking some untouchable deity rather than a woman who once had her strap buried inside you in a strangers bathroom. “You know she won the Ballon d’Or twice, right?” As if you haven’t been low-key stalking her career, watching those achievements pile up like monuments you’ll never come close to matching. “She’s beautiful and talented,” they declare, their words slurring into a familiar refrain, as though her accolades have somehow slipped your mind, as though you might have failed to notice her brilliance or her impossible grace.

But the clincher, the one they love to throw at you, is always: “And she’s Spanish”

There’s a certain relish with which they say it, that singsong tone like they’re divulging some magic spell or a punchline they know gets a laugh every time. It’s as if her nationality carries some kind of exotic allure, like there’s something intrinsically romantic or mysterious about being Spanish that you’re pre-programmed to fall for. Ridiculous, really, but your friends don’t care about nuance. They only remember the endless stories you told about summers in the Balearics—the drunken nights under hot stars, the hazy afternoons spent nursing hangovers and catching fragments of conversations in Spanish that you pretended to understand. “You love Spanish women,” they insist, as if your type is as predictable as your go-to drink order. Conveniently, they overlook the fact that your type mostly translates to ‘emotionally unavailable,’ as if that’s some universal trait of Iberian women.

It’s not that they’re entirely wrong, of course, but they’re oversimplifying. Your attraction to Alexia isn’t some exoticism or romantic fantasy you’ve spun out of nothing. It’s her unapologetic drive, her resilience, that hooked you—though God forbid you’d admit that to anyone. “She’s an athlete,” you shrug whenever the subject comes up, swirling the last melting ice cube in your Old Fashioned like it’s a magic eight ball that might give you a different answer this time. “They’re all players.” The line slips out with just the right amount of indifference, a practiced dismissal, as though you’ve been brutalised by every athlete from Cristiano Ronaldo to Wayne Gretzky. It’s a complete fabrication, of course. You’ve never actually dated a footballer, let alone the best in the world. But who can resist a good story, especially when it’s your own and you get to embellish the details?

It’s easier, you think, to act disinterested than to admit you’ve been replaying that night in the bathroom, the feel of her breath against your neck, every time you catch your reflection in some shiny surface. You thought you were done with all that—had filed her away in the mental drawer labelled ‘Temporary Distractions,’ right alongside the male model who could never quite remember your birthday and the painter who had the audacity to try to psychoanalyse you on the third date. One-night stands are supposed to be transient, fleeting, the kind of thing you can bring up in therapy one day with a detached air. “I think this is worth mentioning,” you’d say, as if it happened to someone else, “but it’s not really important.” Another plot point in the story of your life, never quite making it past the cutting room floor.

But Alexia doesn’t stay filed away. She starts turning up everywhere, not quite a haunting, but a presence you can’t shake no matter how you try. At first, it’s incidental—just a casual Instagram scroll, a stray click on some football gossip account that you don’t even remember following. There she is, grinning in some post-match group shot, looking too happy for someone who’s supposed to be just another fleeting chapter in your book. It’s the kind of unguarded joy that can’t be faked, not even for the camera, and you can’t help but wonder if she’s always this free, or if it’s something that only comes out when she’s on the pitch, away from people like you.

You hardly even realise it, but suddenly you’re following three different Barcelona fan accounts. Then, as if by some magnetic force you’re unwilling to acknowledge, things escalate. She likes one of your posts—a shot from the Venice Film Festival where you’re all decked out in head-to-toe Prada, looking expensively bored, like you couldn’t care less about anything in the world. She comments on one of your stories: just an emoji. A single fire emoji, to be precise. Harmless, you suppose. But the comments start getting specific—little in-jokes that only someone who’d had their mouth on your skin could know. There’s a familiarity in her tone that feels invasive, like she’s reminding you of things you’ve deliberately chosen to forget.

You don’t reply. Cowardice? Yes. Masochism? Possibly. The most crucial thing is that replying would imply there’s something worth talking about, and something always becomes complicated. You’ve already got enough complicated in your life: a demanding agent who keeps sending you scripts for roles that are ‘outside your comfort zone,’ a wardrobe full of designer clothes you’re required to wear for sponsorship deals you didn’t even negotiate, and an on-again, off-again affair with mindful meditation that never seems to stick. You’re in the middle of wrapping up a film that everyone assures you will ‘change the trajectory of your career,’ though they’ve said the same about the last three projects, and you still get recognised more for that face cream advert you did when you were twenty-one than for anything of substance.

The film’s an indie about a morally ambiguous antiheroine, a character so damaged and charmingly dysfunctional you’d think you were being typecast if the role didn’t feel like an emotional excavation. She’s got a drinking problem; you’ve always favoured substances that can be discreetly indulged in penthouse bathrooms, though you’re certainly not going to point that out to the director who keeps going on about ‘authenticity’ and ‘method acting.’ He seems to think you’ve got some untapped well of emotion just waiting to be accessed, as if there’s this depth beneath your flawless skin that’s going to pour out on cue. If only. Most of the time, you’re trying not to let your co-star notice the faint tremor in your hands that’s mostly a byproduct of too much caffeine and not enough sleep.

Then one day, while you’re lounging in your trailer, pretending to enjoy a green juice that tastes like the inside of a lawnmower—another post from Alexia. She’s on the pitch, holding some trophy aloft, her face flushed with victory. Her hair is slicked back, still damp with sweat, strands clinging to her skin in a way that seems impossibly intimate despite the vastness of the stadium behind her. That smile… Christ. It’s like she’s been sculpted out of bronze, an ancient statue come to life, as if she’s somehow timeless and ephemeral all at once. There’s something almost mythic about her, an enduring quality that makes your breath hitch in a way that feels both familiar and unnervingly new, like an old friend who’s overstayed their welcome but you’re not quite ready to let go.

It’s moments like these when you notice how precariously you’re balancing on the line between fascination and obsession. You catch yourself humming the anthem of Barcelona’s football club, the tune woven so deeply into your subconscious that it startles you. You aren’t even sure where you picked it up, but it plays on a loop whenever your mind wanders, like a soundtrack you didn’t choose. Then there are the little things—reading the match reports in the sports section like you actually know what half the terms mean, or memorising obscure facts about the team’s history as if they’re somehow relevant to your life. You’ve started following the scores like they’re stock prices, pretending it’s just casual interest, though a part of you wonders why you keep needing to know how well she played, how many minutes she was on the pitch, whether she looked happy in the post-game interviews.

It’s a form of self-deception that’s becoming harder to maintain. You’re drawn to her orbit, pulled in by a force that feels magnetic and entirely outside your control, as though your fascination is bleeding into the rest of your life, filling the gaps you didn’t even know existed.

You decide, in a moment of what can only be described as poor judgment, to attend one of her matches. It feels impulsive and reckless in the way most of your decisions do, a haphazard pairing of curiosity and a kind of dangerous longing. You book a front-row seat like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like you’re just ticking another item off some glamorous bucket list rather than treading into unfamiliar territory. Naturally, you show up dressed to the nines—your favourite Gucci sunglasses perched on your nose, an Alexander McQueen coat draped over your shoulders with that deliberate, careless grace that suggests you’re either oblivious to or entirely aware of its price tag. Your hair is styled in that kind of artful chaos that takes hours to perfect but is meant to look like you rolled out of bed effortlessly chic. You’re not here for the football. You’re here for her.

The atmosphere in the stadium is overwhelming, almost suffocating, a heady cocktail of chants, horns, and the sharp, greasy scent of fried food that turns your stomach. It’s a kind of chaos you’re unaccustomed to, this all-consuming fervor where the world narrows down to the pitch, to the twenty-two players moving with a purpose you can’t fully grasp. You understand about three percent of what’s happening on the field—just enough to know when the ball’s in play but not enough to follow the strategies unfolding before you. You’re mostly people-watching: the sea of jerseys, the faces contorted with passion, the rhythmic clapping that you can’t quite catch the beat of.

When Alexia scores, it catches you off guard. The stadium erupts, thousands of people leaping to their feet with a collective roar that vibrates through your bones. You react half a beat late, your applause more polite than enthusiastic, like you’re at a black-tie gala instead of a football match. You stand, clap along with the crowd, and try not to feel like an imposter. As the cheers die down, you catch her eyes from across the distance, just for a flicker of a moment. There’s something in her gaze—an awareness, a spark—that slices through the noise and zeroes in on you. It’s like she sees you, actually sees you, in the middle of this thrumming, chaotic mass of bodies, and for a split second, it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the entire stadium.

After the game, you somehow find yourself swept into the exclusive VIP area, a place filled with the kind of people who can glide between worlds as easily as they switch languages. A flute of champagne appears in your hand almost before you’re aware you’ve been handed one, and you sip it absentmindedly as you let the buzz of conversation wash over you. You’re halfway through your second glass when she appears, slipping through the crowd with a kind of effortless poise, her hair still damp from the shower, the strands curling at the ends. She’s wearing a loose tracksuit, looking every bit the casual athlete, as though she hasn’t just been commanding the attention of thousands.

There’s an insufferable confidence in the way she moves towards you, that familiar swagger that borders on arrogance, as if she’s amused by the fact that you actually showed up, that you dared to step into her world. “I didn’t think you were a football fan,” she says, a teasing lilt to her voice, though her eyes betray something else—a darker, more searching intensity that you recognise all too well from that night in the bathroom, the one you keep trying and failing to forget.

“I can appreciate a good performance,” you reply, lifting your glass in a mock toast, your voice slipping into that arch tone you’ve perfected over years of industry parties and press tours. “I’ve seen Cats live on Broadway, you know.” It’s a flippant comment, the kind that’s designed to deflect, to distract, to keep the conversation light and meaningless.

She laughs, a rich sound that feels like an indulgence. It’s not so much at your joke but at the way you’re playing this little game, like she’s letting you have your moment, humouring you. “And did you enjoy the show?” she asks, her voice dropping just enough to suggest that her question has nothing to do with the theatre and everything to do with the performance she just gave on the pitch.

“I think you already know the answer to that,” you say, holding her gaze longer than you probably should. There’s a challenge in the way you look at her, an unspoken dare, and for a moment, you wonder if she’ll take the bait. Her lips curl into a small, devilish smile, a private expression that feels like a confession meant just for you.

The moment stretches, teeters precariously on the edge of something you’re not quite ready to acknowledge. It feels monumental, like a line about to be crossed, but then she steps back, just a fraction, and the spell breaks. She turns away with a dismissive grace, leaving you standing there as if you’ve just been defeated in a game you didn’t know you were playing. “Good,” she says simply, and with that one word, she slips back into the crowd, leaving you with nothing but the faint taste of champagne on your lips and the lingering sense that you’ve been left wanting.

After that, you start to notice the divide. There’s Before Alexia and After Alexia, and it’s not a clean break but a jagged line that cuts through your life, shifting everything off balance. You used to think of yourself as someone in control, or at least someone who could fake it convincingly enough to fool everyone else. There was always an understanding that if you messed up, someone would be there to fix it—your agent, a publicist, some overworked assistant who could call in a favor to make the headlines disappear. But now, your phone has become an instrument of anxiety, vibrating with texts and notifications that you crave and dread in equal measure. It buzzes with messages from her that you read but don’t answer, with updates from your agent about the press tour you keep dodging, with reminders of responsibilities you keep pushing aside.

Even after filming there has finished, you start booking last-minute flights to Barcelona under the guise of ‘business,’ convincing yourself that it’s all perfectly legitimate. Your agent rolls his eyes and hounds you to schedule interviews and appearances, but you find yourself at the airport anyway, boarding another red-eye that will land you in some unfamiliar city just in time to catch her match. You’re finding yourself in strange places at ungodly hours, indulging in the kind of fan behavior you’d have found pathetic if you saw anyone else doing it. Ninety minutes of football passes in a trance, where the world narrows down to her figure gliding across the pitch, the fluid grace of her movements cutting through the static in your head like a hot knife through butter.

Afterwards, you’ll send her a coy, inconsequential text—“Not bad,” or “You could work on your footwork.” And she’ll reply with that maddening charm that dances the line between sincerity and sarcasm, always leaving you guessing. “Come and coach me, then,” she’ll say, as if she’s issuing a challenge, or perhaps an invitation.

There’s this one time, after too many drinks and not enough sleep, when you actually consider it. You catch yourself scrolling through Spanish real estate listings, as if browsing apartments for sale in Barcelona is a casual hobby rather than a subconscious form of planning. You tell yourself it’s just idle curiosity, a way to pass the time, yet you’re finding out the details—locations near the stadium, neighbourhoods with the best views, penthouses with terraces that would catch the Mediterranean breeze. You click on the photos of sun-drenched balconies and tiled kitchens, pretending you’re only fantasising about a different kind of life, one where you’re not constantly looking over your shoulder for the next tabloid scandal or PR crisis.

But then you sober up. You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror of a five-star hotel suite in Madrid, taking in the disheveled hair, the dark circles under your eyes, and you remember who you are. You’re not the kind of person who throws away their life for someone else, certainly not for a woman you haven’t even kissed since that one stolen night, a night that’s become less real and more like a story you tell yourself to explain this unshakable obsession. Besides, you’d probably make a terrible coach.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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yandere-wishes · 4 months ago

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⋆.˚ 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕍𝕒𝕔𝕒𝕪 ⋆.˚

𐙚Yandere! Qimir X Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ He steals you in summer. Castaway on a planet with no name. But the way his eyes shine under the hot sun has your heart beating out of your chest.

⁀➷ Does this count as "That's that me, espresso"?

🪐 Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies, Stockholm syndrome, blood, and gore.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ Espresso by Sabrina Carpender

Dark Vacay by CAS

The heat licks at your neck dangerously. The scathing red glow cleaves through flesh, through bone.

Warm, warm, warm.

The sort of swelter befitting rampant volcanos and rebirthing suns.

The man, no, the Sith has you pinned to his chest. His force,a dark pulsating thing, coiling through your body, keeping you rooted.

Sol's voice echoes through the canopy. Sending ripples through the blood-matted forest floor. "Release her." His saber is drawn, pointed.

Blue vs red.

Hot vs cold.

"Give me the relic." The voice lacks emotion, empathy. It demands, it takes. There is no room for formalities here, no chivalry you've long believed in. This monster deals only in dark. Taking and taking. "And I won't hurt her".

You try to push him away, to fight. Your force against his, clawing at the dark ether around you, hunting for an aperture, a splinter anything to infiltrate. But he is resilient, strong the way most volcanos are.

Impenetrable.

You moan against the tightening noose. He demands and you must obey. Such a dark thing can even make your master bow, make him give up the ancient blood-red relic. "You have your relic, now release my pupil." Behind you the monster chuckles, an airy noise overflowing with malice, "I said I wouldn't hurt her, not that I'd give her back."

The lights dull. Neon fading into a fuzzy mess of colors too tangled to decipher. Voices weave bending to the blaring buzz echoing from within. The world grows darker, you try to clutch onto something, anything. The cool colors of saber light, the soothing tone of your master's voice. The monster's dark cadence. But it's no use, the darkness prevails, pulling you under its crushing waves, burying you in a sea of nihil.

The world is dim upon resurgence. The air tastes of salt, fresh and dry upon the throat. The earth you lay in is warm, not like the smoldering heat of a bloodborne saber, but the warmth you imagine a mother's embrace to hold. Soft in every way that counts.

The place is alien and abandoned. No family, no monsters. Just rock upon rock and makeshift furniture to further the illusion of a makeshift home. The pounding upon your temples has yet to cease, you wonder if the outlines of a bruise have yet to bloom.

Slowly, you emerge from the cocoon of worn blankets. Bare feet scraping across the jagged floor. You feel the monster's presence linger, his essence strong within this place. You remember the dragon dens you used to read about in fairy tales. The gold-adorned caves where little princesses were forced to dwell.

It's funny you should feel like one now.

There are clothes sprawled across the floor. Vanilla ice cream in shade and shape, they feel too pure to have been chosen by a man like him. Too pure to have been tainted by the darkness of his fingertips. It's only now that the dress glares back that you notice your bareness, Jedi robes stripped and discarded.

That fiend...

You feel skinned, alone. No saber to grasp, no golden drapes. Nothing to paint you as Jedi. It's with reluctance that you lace yourself into the sweet dress, with utter reluctance that you step out onto the beach of rocks awaiting outside.

You spot the man,

the sith.

Qimir

His name reverberates within your head. You lick each letter, rolling them across your tongue and drinking in their condensation. "Qi-mi-rr" the name shouldn't taste of exotic fruits blended and bled. It shouldn't taste like fruit cocktails and coconut cubes but it does.

It does and it's disgustingly delicious.

He walks with the steady strout of a man who knows he is the most dangerous thing on this beach, on this island, on this entire planet. A volcano among mountains.

You follow behind bare feet on smooth rocks. Fumbling across the beach.

Chasing shadows. Chasing monsters.

He sheds his robes like skin, peeling away sabbath vestments to reveal cutis. Tanned and scarred, marred flesh risen like volcano veins cascading across his spine.

You shouldn't admit how desperately your fingers ache to trace the tragic thing. You glid your nails across the notched igneous rocks. Dreaming its soft flesh, his soft flesh beneath your touch. He would shutter under your fingertips as you pull apart his secrets. Nibbling on them like picnic cookies.

He's stripped bare, soft skin caught in the dim sun. His open wounds glisten under soft gold rays. You skate away from the sight, that forbidden sun-drenched sight. Eyes averted and hidden behind the rocks, twice locked, to avoid a rogue glance.

He is nothing if not haunting, forbidden in every way.

Odd how the memory of his bare ankles is what lingers. Carved too steep and too deep in a way that looks too marble. They merge into long robust legs. You can't help but imagine the sculpture of his thighs after, the thing at the end of those perplexing ankles. They too must be strong, carved to define each muscle. You imagine being trapped between them, their forceful push against your meaker body as his ankles intertwine with yours.

"You can open your eyes now."

You taste his darkness in your mouth again. Potent tropical fruits laced with sea salt. He couldn't have known you were trailing after him, you'd been quiet, silent like a whisper.

"It's improper to strip out in the open. What would you have done if someone should have come upon you?"

He treads in the water like a pearl unearthed. Shimmering alongside the blue-green of the lagoon. "You came upon me and nothing happened."

"That's because I had the good graces to avert my gaze from such a sight."

"I'd prefer if you'd look."

He pours water over his face, sparkly droplets cascading down sharp cheekbones. Eyes wide with an odd groggy wonder. The sky and the sea and him ethereally in between. He shouldn't look so magical. Some water nymph playing spike ball with the sun. Drinking in the clouds and blue. Before diving back down into his aquatic galaxy.

"Join me"

"I'd rather impale myself"

he's treading closer, water shielding his body like liquid lapis lazuli. "I wonder what your lips will taste like blue?" and it's the first time you've ever thought of your order's regalia as something so macabre.

His eyes are half-lidded, licking over your body like a melting Sunday. Or maybe he actually is, you can feel something wet and sinister sliding across your body. Slipping over and under the dress, sucking at pulse points. Anticipating soft vanilla.

You want to rip out his tongue and harbor in your mouth. You want to devour him as if he were ice cream on a summer day. Butterscotch cone with drizzled caramel and star sprinkles. Your teeth ache desperately for just one small bite.

He's standing, growing into a full man, no longer just a boy nymph memorized by soft whites and bright blues. The water droplet clutch greedy to taut muscles, refusing to leave such a Promethean thing.

The wet thing freezes. Running water to ice cube. His force evaporates from you, you bask in the mist of him. Before the shadow roots behind you impenetrable all over again. Qimir steps closer and you close your eyes on instinct. Stepping back, following the flow of sand in breeze.

Such sights are not for us to love.

It tips you off balance, You can't see Qimir but you can feel him. He's closer and closer. That's why you're stalking back. But the plasmic thing behind you nicks your ankle. Lurching you back. In the blink of an eye and the start of a scream, you're suspended in mid-air. Floating above the sands, save in the gossamer of his black mist.

"Careful" Qimir jests

And you crack your eye open just enough to see his outstretched hand.

"I want to take a shower"

"The lagoone is over there" he throws over his shoulder all so causally. like spelling out sea cemetary.

the warmth of the cave is suffocating. Lacing through your body making it breakout into little pearls of hidrosis. You roll over, watching Qimir, solder the cracks of his helmet. The rampant sparks cast him in a galactic white halo. Some intangible creature from the far reaches of the universe.

You wonder back to the incident by the lagoon.

You wonder if his tongue, his real tongue, would feel cool against your flaring skin. Muscle-bound ice cube rolling across your arms, your chest, drinking in your essence in half kisses and open-lipped moans. Sucking tenderly on the veins of your neck.

But shouldn't the tongues of monsters be spiked? cutting deep in search of blood?

Qimir swats the sweat from his temples. Pulling up the back of his shirt in an effort to fight the humidity. His scars transcend so low. Rivers weaving through him, overflowing with treasured secrets. You suck in the force through your lips drinking in its cold confidence. Marching up to stand behind him, only half admiring the rugged skin below the sandy shirt.

"Ahem" Spine straight, head held high. Your stance is practiced, sculpted in the confidence that the order demands. Lightside in every way.

Jedi, Jedi, Jedi

"I know it is futile to ask a treasonous sith like you to abide by the laws of common decency. But I'd ask that you do not come to spy on me while I bathe" Your hands ball into firsts. Glaring death and shark teeth at his blemished back.

He leaves the workbench with all the grace of a crushing tide. Elegance carved from salt rocks and years of walking through stars and shadows. But this time you refuse to step back. There is no dishabille to fear, no sand lines that may be passed.

But he doesn't confront you. He doesn't bask in his rage and stands proudly in front of you. No, instead he paces, or rather almost floats. He's in front of you one minute and behind you the next. The eerieness of it all only comes from the feeling of entombment. He is your cage, your coffin. Burying you under the sand with his precious secrets and red relics. Your nerve beats out of you in little droplets.

Qimir's fingers lace with your own, his hot breath fans the shell of your ear, "How can I make such promises when you act so cute" his voice is coconut shavings upon white sand. You aren't even sure he spoke. " I thought Sith only dealt in absolutes?" his laughter cuts like fractured seashells. Cutting through heartstrings. You want to hear it again and again until you've memorized its melody. "That's what we want the Jedi to believe."

His teeth graze the nape of your neck. That's the last straw, gravity crushes your nerve, and you take off running.

The pearls that shine within his sockets are entirely too dark. You shouldn't be thinking such this as you disrode. But the glimmer of pure drown isn't a worldly sight, it's something unplaceable.

Sith can not be trusted, even if, until mere days ago they had been things of fairytales like dragons and sea monsters. Mystical monsters used to frighten little padwans into finishing their plates. But the stories are true now, they've ripped open the holobooks and sprouted from the screen. Your fingers flex, feeling the weight of his hand in yours.

The monsters are real...

You keep your undergarments on as you descend with the sparkling tides. Qimir may appear at any moment. And you wish to confront a Sith in a Jedi's skin, or what little is left of it.

You're sinking into the watermelon greens and crystal blues, sinking into him... because even so far from the grotto his presence haunts your thoughts still.

"You wouldn't mind if I invite myself in?" The water laps at his feet, he's standing over the liquid threshold.

"What are you doing here?! I told you not to come."

he shrugs and you can't help but notice the definition of his muscles. "It's hot in the cave. Plus you don't own the beach."

He pulls the shirt over his head.

You scream for him to stop.

But this time as he pulls the waistband down you notice something underneath.

Swim trunks.

Bell-bottomed and shaped like a nebula, but only midnight in hue. The cuffs glimmer with red intricacies, patterns from a different time, a different solar system. Each stitch tells some tale of horror or history. Sith things that you'd rather not know. But why engrave them into a swimsuit? Why paint a tapestry on something so jejune?

He treads through the water, deadset on you. And again in every step, you notice a mettle valor that can only come from having killed and kissed your greatest fears.

The rocks are slippery beneath your feet, running, swimming, gliding whatever gets you further from him. But the rocks form barricades of their own. Igneous confines housing prey and beast.

"I meant it when I said you were cute." He has you pinned to the mineral mountains, eyes prying you open, studying your inner workings like a gutted bot. "So fragile so malleable..." You feel his power rolled over your neck.

You didn't expect the kiss. The taste of coconut shavings and caramel. Your heart hammers as he tugs on your hips, pulling you closer. Your lungs burn, filled with salt water and dark force energy.

But suffocating is a small price to pay when he parts your lips and pushes iced star fruits in your mouth.

That night Qimir had tried to feed you soup. Boiled fish and herbs in a cauldron that looks, entirely witch. But the refusal comes not from the perturbation of poison or the primal mistrust shared between star-crossed enemies.

No the refusal comes because you simply do not like fish.

"Just try a spoonful, it's from a rare breed. Considered a luxury on most planets". His entreaties fall on deaf ears, outvoiced by the stubbornness of a crashing tide. You retire hungry, and maybe it's hunger that stirs you in the dead of night.

Or maybe it's the heartbeat echoing from his mask.

He called it cortosis. But it looks more terror than diamond.

You sink to your knees in front of the haunted heirloom, cradling it gently within your palms. The iron flavor upon lips makes you part them, tongue fleshed tracing every welded scar. Sucking in the solder and crystal and every other poison.

You want to be a part of it, to pry open your ribcage and shove the empyrean taj within.

Let its darkness mingle with your blood. You want to feel it's royalty in the marrow of your bones.

In the morning you do not speak about the pulsating thing within. But the mask stares at you as you eat mint and bread from Qimir's hand.

It knows...

It knows things you can never admit.

You'd been planning on narrowly avoiding him. Tiptoeing across the cave to evade stirring him. But the plans die when first light breeches the aperture.

Qimir's gone.

And in his place, he's left yet another raiment.

The dress is summer and doll. Bowed in the back and studded.

Bar'biee in every way.

The hysterically placed designs parody the crisscross of twilight roses and all their thrones. Checkered in shades of obsidian and ink.

But the black of your dress doesn't quite match the ebony of his robes.

It simply plays testament to your ripeness. You're starting to feel like his little doll.

He lies on a beach towel overlooking the sea. So ordinary it makes you choke. Beach ball in the corner by his feet, waiting to be played with.

Fearless.

You wonder just who he had to kill to reach this hubris?

You float down the little exclaves toes barely touching the ground.

He's adorned the rocky beach with a comically large parasol too dark to even have a name. Another towel, a picnic basket, and little coconut cups with straws. Despite his black tainted sunglasses, he knows you're watching him. Caught in the bosom of this haunted shore. Awaiting your capturer's orders.

"You can sit if you want." again he's saying words without realizing how crushing they truly are. Their full weight pulling your bones until they slip from skin.

Might as well have said shark attack and death at sea.

But you obey because despite everything, the towel looks nice and so does the drink.

"The sun doesn't come out very often. But I figured we could at least enjoy it today."

"Thanks," you mutter chewing on the pink straw. You shift your limbs rigidly. Plastic doll coming to life. Pushing tense bones straight as you rest your uneasy head. The waves hum in your ear and you swear you hear the rocks buzze like star songs.

"Why did you bring me here? Why not kill me."

"Well, you're not really any use to me dead" He offers you a melon slice.

"So I'm bait." Qimir sighs, your query exhausting. He simply sips from his own drink. You notice the jounce of his throat with each gulp. How you'd love to ring to those bones, feel them crack between your fingers.

He turns to you, lips a breath away. He hasn't kissed you since that day in the lagoon. But you wish him too so very much.

This isn't the Jedi way...

What?

Qimir's fingers trace over your thighs and hips. Finally, they land heavily on your shoulders, pushing you into the rocks with zeal. He blocks the sun and you can't help but think he's lovelier than any red goliath in the macrocosm.

Qimir's teeth gnaw at your throat, kissing the blood and smearing it with his tongue. Traling open-mouth kisses to the plinth of your neck.

Your nails, rasp curiously at his back, tracing scars, tracing cortosis veins.

His fingers dig into your ribs, painting it in seastars. Kissing starlights and pearls in your bones. His body is hot, scolding. And you wonder if the minerals he surrounds himself with were all nursed in the womb of a violent volcano.

The result of destructive habits is knife bites called kisses and a heart that's finally exploded.

When he pulls off, he poises himself on his knees before falling back to his side, searching for something in the basket. You stare, dress distorted, and breath hitched. You taste the exotic fruit blend again. Burning, caramel, and coconut that linger across your body.

"Hey, can you put this on me?" reality blurs back in, he's dangling a yellow bottle in front of you. "What" he shouldn't have this ease with you. He shouldn't be playing make-believe lovers on the beach with the girl he kidnapped.

But he does.

And you play along too.

"it's sunscreen, believe it or not, I burn easily."

"No"

"please"

"N-"

You don't control your hand as it pours the cream onto his chest. He touches you with such familiarity, the force on this planet is just an extension of him. But you shy away at the thought of running your fingers across his muscle bound chest. What is the force if not a child's toy? If not another doll.

He notices the shyness. Or rather reads it from the air. His force pokes at your arms, laughing at the discomfort. Before you know it he's harbored between your thighs. Large hands holding your wrist.

Firm yet delicate.

He moves your hand over his chest, charting every bump and muscle. Coating the blocker over his skin. It feels like piecing together armor. Preparing him for a battle you've never been invited to.

You don't want this.

Well not quite.

You want to feel his body jolt under your touch and hear the sweet little quips he offers to lighten the mood. You want to capture the fleeting moment where he bites his lip and preserve it for eternity.

But more than anything you want to peel away his armor, his flesh, and bury yourself beneath. Become another one of his secrets and staying inside him. Safe and warm forever.

"Qimir"

He makes pomegranate soup that night. As he nestles your body over his lap. Kissing the half-healed bruise on your forehead. He brings the spoon to your lips and gently nudges your mind to let him in. You part your lips, welcoming him in with the shyness you've been raised on. Blushing little bride-doll.

Legacy. You realize when the seeds erupt inside your mouth.

He's feeding you his secrets, his bequest. Boiling you like the fish and the fruit. And birthing you anew.

You sleep with your head buried in the crux of his neck. Listening to the lullaby of his tattered heart, singing psalms of conquest.

That night you dream of a river red. You blame it on Qimir, the pomegranate seeds were too maroon in color and flavor.

From the crimson water the helmet surfaces. Bobbing in the waves, beckoning you. You cup your hands inside the river, guzzling down the water and licking your fingers after. You let the red kiss your lips and fill your lungs choking you by essence alone. You want to die drinking from the bloodlust. Die in front of his helmet.

So maybe he can call it love.

Or Devotion.

Or anything else equally sweet.

The river doesn't taste like pomegranates, or fruit cocktails, or iced coconut.

It tastes of salty iron, volcanic diamonds and Qimir's lips.

You plunge into the red...

He's thinking about you again. You know it from the moment you awake. His voice is loud inside your head. Reverberating from wall to wall until it is the only thing you hear.

This time the garments are waterproof. Swimwear. Two pieces in black, just black. And adorned with red trees on the seams.

Right, because you beat me in the forest.

Clever.

He has left bangles too, jagged and bruised purple with veins of white. cortosis. Accompanied by a golden necklace that looks like a beating heart, ripped freshly from someone's chest.

"You look beautiful," he remarks after you've dressed in his colors. When did he come in? You need to get better at hearing the man born from shadows. The man who's walking between worlds unseen, unheard his entire life.

He pulls you close, nails picking at the soft flesh of your tummy. Scratching skin and leaving red crescents. He kneels and licks and bites, claiming this new chart of unmarked skin.

This has always been about possession, domination, damnation. "Qimir" you moan and it feels so wrong and so right. Like saber to the heart.

Oh force, how far you've fallen.

Qimir laces his fingers with yours pulling you outside the cave. The sun shimmers off his lopsided smile and he really does glow brighter than every star in the known cosmos.

The lagoon is red.

It shouldn't be red.

"You killed them" Since when have such dire words spilled so easily from your lips? Sol, Jacki, Yord. Are they in this pool? shimmering translucent awaiting a vengeance you do not think you can deliver?

"Yes...But not your Jedi, not yet. These were just some self-pious knights who got in my way."

He brings his arm up showing you a fresh saber cut, before pulling you into the water. It's so warm boiling, lava meets water. You think your skin will peel off.

But you stand your ground. Force directing your every breath. Spine straight head high. Darkside in every way

Sith, sith, sith

You grasp at his forearm, pulling it to your lips. Your tongue finds the slit in the skin and dives it. Mapping out the muscles and drinking in the red.

Exotic fruits bled and blended.

"I think I'm finally getting through to you," Qimir says, brown pearls glazed over with pride. "My sweet little acolyte."

You giggle at the term. It tastes so bitter, like a raw espresso before dawn.

"Oh, master" you moan. As you pull him under the red waters. Lips and legs entwined.

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fatimabb · 13 days ago

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where jjk men would take you for the first date :3

GOJO SATORU

Gojo has a flair for the dramatic and a taste for the finer things in life, so he’d plan a first date at a chic rooftop lounge with a beautiful view of the city.

He’s taken care of every detail, from the soft, ambient music playing in the background to the perfectly curated menu of small plates and exotic cocktails.

Gojo would revel in the opportunity to impress you, ordering playful, extravagant dishes and insisting you try each one, claiming, “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried this.”

Throughout the evening, he would be playful, pushing boundaries in that charming-yet-infuriating way only Gojo can. Every time you start to talk about yourself, he’d interrupt with a witty remark, a smirk playing on his lips, trying to fluster you.

He thrives on seeing you react, watching your cheeks flush as he leans in too close, maintaining intense eye contact. Despite his teasing, Gojo would genuinely listen when you shared something personal. And as the night goes on, he’d be the one subtly leaning closer, captivated by the words leaving your lips.

Just as you’re considering the night might end, he’d propose a spontaneous adventure — maybe finding the best street food spot nearby or even an impromptu visit to an art exhibit that stays open late.

That’s what’s so interesting about Gojo, he’ll switch things up within a second. You love his want for fun, his spontaneousness because it is a perfect reflection of what you.

SUGURU GETO

Geto’s approach to a first date would be thoughtful and understated, perfect for setting an intimate tone without overwhelming you.

He’d choose a quiet art gallery or museum where the atmosphere is calm. Geto would enjoy walking beside you in the echoing halls, discussing the artwork with surprising depth, sharing his views while gently prompting you to share yours.

He’s curious about how you interpret the world around you and respects each thought you share, offering his own perspectives with gentle understanding.

After the gallery, he’d guide you to a nearby café, where the ambiance is cozy and the lighting dim, perfect for a more personal conversation. He’d order something warm and comforting, possibly recommending a drink or pastry he thinks you’d like.

As you sit across from him, Geto would engage you in deeper conversation, asking about your dreams, fears, and the things you hold close to your heart. His gaze would be soft but piercing, letting you know he’s listening and genuinely cares.

When the evening winds down, Geto would walk you home, his presence warm and protective. He wouldn’t push for more than you’re comfortable with but would leave you with a gentle, reassuring smile and the promise of a next time, his fingers lingering a second longer as he bids you goodnight.

Geto is also the type to wait until you get inside your house for him to leave. He wants to make sure you’re safe

RYOMEN SUKUNA

Sukuna isn’t one for conventional first dates.

He’d take you to a hidden, low-lit sake bar, one with an almost intimidating atmosphere that feels secretive and exclusive.

Sukuna would revel in the idea of introducing you to something more daring, watching you explore unfamiliar territory with him.

From the start, he’d be direct, his eyes holding a confident, predatory glare as he leans back, observing every reaction you give.

There wouldn’t be small talk with Sukuna. He’d jump straight into bold, unfiltered conversation, possibly even flirting with an edge that’s equal parts thrilling and intimidating.

He’d challenge your views, play devil’s advocate, and enjoy every moment you rose to meet his energy, sparking a kind of intellectual and emotional intensity.

Sukuna is the type to test boundaries, not necessarily out of malice, but because he thrives on intensity and wants to see the fire within you.

As the drinks flow and your inhibitions lower, Sukuna’s gaze would turn more possessive. He might pull you close, his hand settling on your lower back as he makes a bold statement or teases you just enough to get under your skin.

By the end of the night, there would be no doubt about his interest — and his desire for you to reciprocate with the same unrestrained passion he brings.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

Toji’s approach would be straightforward yet unexpectedly thoughtful. He wants to leave a good impression, but he wants to be 100% himself.

He’d take you to a classic, unpretentious late-night diner, one where the food is greasy, the lights dim, and the jukebox plays old rock songs.

Toji is a man of simple pleasures, and he’d want to share a slice of his world with you without any pretenses or unnecessary extravagance. As you sit across from him, he’d probably tease you a bit, but his gaze would be steady and assured, a slight softness peeking through his usual gruff exterior.

He would be all up on you, holding you by the waist and put his hand on your lower back. As if you were his already.

He’d order a milkshake or a burger and insist on splitting it with you, claiming, “It tastes better this way.” With Toji, there’d be no need to put up any fronts — he’s someone who values authenticity and would appreciate seeing the real you, no matter how messy or imperfect.

As the night goes on, he’d suggest going for a drive, taking you to a secluded spot with a view of the city lights or a quiet area where you can just talk.

Leaning against the car with him, the silence between you would be comfortable, punctuated by occasional murmured conversation.

Toji would share little fragments of his life, letting you in just enough to feel a deeper connection. He’s not one to rush things, but he’d make it clear he’s interested with a small, knowing smile as he brushes a stray hair from your face before driving you home.

NANAMI KENTO

Nanami’s ideal first date would be elegant, thoughtful, and respectful — a perfect blend of classic romance and quiet sophistication.

He’d choose a small, tucked-away restaurant that he knows and trusts, one where the food is excellent, and the ambiance calm.

He’d make reservations in advance, ensuring everything is just right, and he’d arrive punctually, dressed in his usual refined style that exudes an effortless sense of class.

Nanami would guide you through the menu, recommending dishes he thinks you’d enjoy, his tone considerate and thoughtful.

As the evening progresses, he’d share stories of his travels or reflections on his life, but always in a way that invites you to share about yourself, making you feel truly seen.

Nanami’s interest would be genuine, and his subtle compliments would let you know he appreciates both your intelligence and your grace.

After dinner, he’d walk with you through the quiet streets, perhaps stopping at a quaint bookstore or a small park for a stroll.

Nanami wouldn’t push for anything beyond a respectful goodbye, but he’d leave you with a warm smile, his voice soft as he promises, “Let’s do this again soon.”

CHOSO KAMO

Choso would choose something simple and sweet for a first date, like a quiet evening picnic in a secluded spot with a beautiful view.

He’d prepare some snacks, maybe bringing your favorite treats if he knew about them, and spread out a blanket where you could sit together under the open sky.

With him, the date would be more about the feeling of closeness and the quiet comfort of just being with someone who values you.

Choso is shy but thoughtful, and he’d focus on making you feel comfortable. He might be quiet at first, but his attentiveness would speak volumes, as he carefully listens to everything you say, nodding and offering a gentle smile.

As the stars come out, he’d likely open up about his own past and his love for his family, and he’d be genuinely interested in hearing about your life and dreams.

The evening would end with a soft, warm farewell, Choso promising to see you again soon with a shy yet sincere smile that lingers in your memory long after you part ways.

#anime #fanfic #jjk satoru #jjk geto #jjk sukuna #jjk toji #jjk nanami #jjk choso #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk #gojo satoru #geto suguru #toji fushiguro #nanami kento #choso kamo #ryomen sukuna #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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seospicybin · 1 year ago

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TOO HOT TO HANDLE.

PART I

Han x reader. (s)

Too Hot To Handle masterlist

Synopsis: You and Han become contestants in a reality dating show, Too Hot To Handle. (12,9k words)

Author's note: I hope you like this one too. Don't be shy to add your feedback :)

If you were in paradise with good company and had to resist sex, could you?

We found the hottest, horniest, commitment-phobic singles and gave them what they think is the most exotic and erotic summer of their lives.

Only to reveal that one thing is off the menu is sex.

At stake is a prize of $200,000 which will plummet if they get naughty. The question is, in a world without sex, will they form deeper and more meaningful connections?

Or will the temptation be too hot to handle?

"I'm here!" Han announces his arrival and shouts it toward the beach.

Instead of feeling nervous, he feels good to be the first one to enter the villa. At least this way, he wouldn't feel intimidated when he sees people who are more good-looking than him.

There's not much to do with no one to interact with, he grabs one of the cocktails served on the small round table and takes a sip.

He turns the other way, sipping his cocktail while looking at the beautiful view of the sea that goes as far as his eyes can see.

"Oh, it's so gorgeous here," he says with a delightful sigh.

Little did he know, that's not the only gorgeous thing he'll see today.

HAN: I'm charming 24/7, that's for sure [laughs] Girls often say they like my smile [brightly smiles] and I won't disagree with that [chuckles] I'm all about a good chat, I'm good listener. I gather pieces of information, I use them at the right time, and [makes shooting gesture] That's part of the secret.

Han has to squint his eyes against the blinding sunlight and see two girls coming his way. He sips his drink to fuel his confidence and prepares himself to make a good first impression.

"Wow. You girls look amazing!" Han says out of wonder, not hesitating to let his thoughts out.

He hates to see women objectively but it's hard not to. Not when they're dressed in something that leaves so little to the imagination.

"We can say the same about you," The taller one says, talking as if she's half moaning.

"I'm Mikaela," she introduces herself, not hesitating to pull him into a hug.

Mikaela has shiny dark hair, plump lips, and a height he doesn't have, yet it's not going to stop him from pursuing her.

But it's too early to settle down yet. He turns to the other girl who's more his height and gives her a quick hug.

"I'm Han," he introduces his name first.

"I'm Nya," she replies.

Nya's brown skin glows under the sun and when she smiles, she shows her perfect white teeth.

"Can we drink this?" She asks in a thick British accent.

Stunned by how attractive the girls are, Han forgets about making a good, first impression. He hurriedly hands the drinks over to the girls and proposes a toast.

They're clinking their glasses against each other and take a sip at the same time.

"So, Han, what is your type?" Mikaela asks.

It may seem like a harmless question but it's actually not, she wants him to choose between the two of them. He needs to be careful with what he says if he wants to please them.

"I don't really have a type... but uh... I like eyes, gorgeous eyes," he says.

They nod at you, not quite figuring out what he says by that. He comes up with something to amuse them both, "I like a gorgeous smile too and you both have that."

That works wonderfully as they're smiling and laughing at his answer.

"Cheers to that!" Mikaela says, clinking her glass with his.

"I think the three of us can do something while we wait for the others," Nya suggests an idea.

An idea that gives Han a glimpse of what her personality is. Don't get him wrong, he likes girls who know how to have fun, he just doesn't expect it coming from Nya.

"Yeah? What do you have in mind?" Han playfully dares her.

Nya sips her drink to avoid answering his question then breaks into a series of giggles.

Sadly, the threesome must end as the second male guest enters the villa.

Han would be lying if he said he was not the slightest bit intimidated. Not only he doesn't have his height, but he also doesn't have that Greek God-like body and facial hair that enhances his masculinity.

"How are you doing, man?" He asks Han who's gobsmacked by how tall he is as he stands next to him.

"Good, good," he answers, exchanging a quick hug with him.

He can see honey dripping from Nya's eyes as she looks at the new guy, "What is your name?"

"Rio," he answers.

"Where are you from, Rio?" Mikaela asks, holding her glass close to her lips.

"I'm from Brazil," he answers, taking a drink for himself.

Mikaela giggles even though there's nothing funny about what he says. She fixes her hair as she says, "Rio, you are so gorgeous."

It feels like Han has become invisible to everyone. He quietly sips his drink and tries not to despair. There are more to come and who knows? He'll find someone more suitable to him, more of his type.

Han has to be patient as two more male guests enter the villa, successfully making his confidence shrink.

He bursts into laughter as he's standing between Peyton and Finn like two gorgeous, white pillars of a Greek temple.

And as if that's not enough, the female guest who just entered is also tall.

"Fuck. I'm so small, it's a joke," he says, trying to lighten up his mood by making a fool out of himself.

The boys around him laugh at his joke and almost miss out on the new girl's introduction.

"I'm Sawyer," she says with a cute smile.

"So, Sawyer, what is your type?" Nya asks, going straight to the point.

Han stands up straight and funnily, the other guys are lining up so Sawyer can take a good look at them. He stands on his tiptoes to match the other's heights, earning good laughs from the girls.

"Well, let's say I'm looking more into their personality..." her answer gets cut off as the last male guest enters the scene.

He looks like a textbook bad boy with long, brown hair and tattoos on his body, he has that smoldering eyes that certainly does thing to the girls as he takes all of their attention away.

Confidently, he walks around introducing himself to the girls, kissing them on the cheeks, and keeps his introduction short by only telling his name, "Asher."

So far, no one has caught his eyes or struck his fancy, he doesn't find the sparks he usually gets when he sees someone he likes.

He can only hold onto the hope that he'll find what he's looking for on the last two female guests.

On the other hand, he can't help but expect disappointment and...

"Oh, they're too fit!" Sawyer cutely gasps.

Han glances up from his drink to see what she's fussing about and the boys are howling in reaction to girls walking into the villa.

HAN: Oh, we're so spoiled for choice [laughs]

It's kind of unfair that they make you enter the villa with someone as gorgeous as Avery.

Except for the dark brown, she looks like the Malibu Barbie. She has perfect skin, that hourglass body figure, and a nice smile. Meanwhile, you look like a long-forgotten, doodled-on Barbie with tattoos scattered across your body.

"Are you nervous?" She asks with an Australian accent.

She looks so cute as she nervously giggles, "Not really," you answer.

It's everyone there who should be nervous because they haven't seen her. You're not jealous, if anything, you want to date her for yourself.

"Should we hold hands?" She offers her hand to you.

You look around at the staff preparing your entrance to the villa, "I'm not sure..."

Your words are trailing off as the staff gives the cute for both of you to start walking into the villa.

To your surprise, you don't feel nervous at all. You feel excited to meet a lot more attractive people and can't wait to know them.

You turn your head and see Avery, looking not as nervous as she seemed to be earlier.

She looks gorgeous with the sun hits her eyes, showing off her beautiful green eyes with a tint of brown in the middle.

It's kind of expected that she's catching all the attention and the boys seem to be curious about Avery that they just can't take their eyes off of her.

"I'm Avery, hi," she introduces herself.

She makes eyes with everyone and Han returns the eye contact with a wide smile on his face.

"Do you fancy anyone, Avery?" Nya asks, being the one that leads the conversation again.

Avery looks at the boys with a smile dancing on her face, Sligh nodding when her eyes hover between Han and Asher.

"Yeah..." she answers then looks away to sip her drink.

"And how about you?" Nya asks.

Everyone turns their attention to you as you quietly grab a drink for yourself. You hold your drink in your hand as you answer, "Honestly, I fancy everyone here."

You look at Nya and continue talking, "I go both ways so bring 'em all in, I guess?" you say with a sly smirk.

Nya seems amused by your answer, "I like that, girl!" She says, clinking her glass with you after.

"Please, save some for us," Rio playfully says.

You nonchalantly shrug and say, "I don't mind sharing."

You secretly steal a few glances at the guy who's been eyeing Avery the second she came into the villa. He looks so cute and cute guys are your weaknesses.

YOU: Hi, nice to meet you. I'm— [holds up hand] that sounds so lame, let me do it again! [Laughs] Hey, what's up? It's your girl [blows kisses] I like to keep a low profile. When I see someone I like, I just give them the eyes and they'll get it [Winks] I have standards, of course. But at the end of the day, I have the worst criteria [laughs]

The girls are cheering in excitement as they're the first to enter the bedroom.

There are five beds and ten people in here which means everyone has to pair up. The options are still wide open even though he sees Avery sitting on the bed with Asher.

He's half-heartedly listening to the conversation happening in the room as everyone is asking each other about their profession.

He sits on the bed to engage in the conversation as Peyton just told everyone that he works as a model which explains his perfect figure.

"What about you?" Peyton turns to Avery.

She tips her head to the side and it's so adorable of her "Why don't you guess?"

"I think you model too," Finn guesses.

She surprisingly shakes her head, "No, I'm a singer," she says.

Han finds the opportunity to inject himself into the conversation.

"Oh, me too!" He says with such enthusiasm.

"Yeah?" Avery asks.

Han eagerly nods, especially now he has her attention, "What's your sign?"

"I'm a Pisces," she answers.

It's obvious that he can't match his star sign with hers but he won't let it get in his way, "My moon is in Pisces!" He says with a gasp.

"We have a lot of commons," he says, holding both his hands up for a double high-five with her.

"I think we should kiss," Han shamelessly adds.

Avery bursts into laughter hearing Han's proposition but to his surprise, she says, "Just a peck then."

She gets up from the bed and meets Han in the middle, their lips meet for a mere second until Avery breaks the kiss. There are various reactions from everyone but Han notices a few jealous eyes in a few of them. His way of flirting may seem random and a bit silly but hey, it works!

HAN: I'm feeling two or three of them but Avery... [whistles] Great body, great smile.

It seems like Han is not the only one who has the hots for Avery.

As he chats with Rio with his legs dipped in the swimming pool, he sees that Asher pulls her aside, talking on the wooden chair that overlooks the sea.

He turns at Rio and playfully asks, "What do you think he's saying?"

Rio lets out a chuckle and shrugs, "He's probably saying 'you're the most beautiful girl' and stuff like that," he replies.

Han chuckles at that as he keeps watching the two of them talking. He must admit that Asher wins on visual but it's not a guarantee that he'll be able to win her over with just his look.

Also, he already bagged a peck from Avery.

"How about you? Mikaela, huh?" Han says, guessing that Rio has his eyes on the beautiful, dark-haired girl.

Rio leans with his hands propped behind him and softly laughs, "She's got a banging, banging body," he says the word twice to emphasize how hot she is.

"I think I'll give it a shot, you know, and see what she's saying," Rio concludes.

Well, if he were Rio, he wouldn't worry about not getting a girl. He could only wish to have his sculpted body and he is indeed envious of him for it.

"Finn is going for Avery too," Rio informs.

"Yeah?" He asks with a painful laugh.

Rio laughs while brushing his dark curls to the back, "All I can say to you is best of luck," he says with a sly smile.

Well, the fact that he has competitions only means that Avery is that girl.

HAN: There's a competition going on for Avery [laughs] Well, I say let the games begin [rubs hands together]

This show is called Party in Paradise for a reason.

Everyone is so revved up and ready for the first party in the villa. The boys are already gathered at the beach, taking a glass of cocktail and making a toast.

"I saw my boy Peyton made his move earlier with Nya," Asher says.

"What?" Han asks in disbelief, completely clueless about it.

Peyton sips his drink with a bragging smirk plastered on his face, "It was nice, it was nice," he coyly responds to that.

"Are you trying to one me up or what?" Han jokes.

He swallows his drink before replying, "Something is going to happen tonight," he cryptically says.

Everyone raises their glasses in the air for another toast and Han wants to keep his focus sharp so he's only taking little sips of it.

Not long after, the girls are coming and dressed stunningly, carefully walking down the steps that lead to the beach. All of them look beautiful in their own way but Avery is exceptionally gorgeous to him.

HAN: I need to make a move on Avery. I need to make a progress.

The first round of drinks has been drained and everyone moved on to the next round right away. Music is blasting, sending everyone to start moving their bodies to the upbeat music.

Everyone is having fun and getting to know each other with every sip of drink, dancing with each other, not caring that the cameras are filming everything.

You've been instructed to take the lead on the first quest since everyone will take their turn anyway, you've been briefed on everything about the first quest.

When the music abruptly stops, you take it as your cue to take control of the show.

"You guys, I've been tasked to lead the first quest and..." you look at them to build anticipation.

"Don't worry, it's a fun quest!" You assure them, allowing them to stay loosen up.

You grab an eye mask that has been prepared by the staff and show it to everyone, "Each one of you will take turns to stand here," you pointed to the marked spot with a foam mat.

"And you'll put this on," you show them the eye mask again.

You take a few seconds of pause before letting them know the most fun part of it, "And any of you can come to kiss, lick, taste, bite, anything..."

You look at them and emphasize the word again, "Anything!"

Everyone is cheering in reaction, given the chance to do whatever they want to the person they fancy. You can expect a lot of lips locking and fondling in a few minutes.

"Don't get excited yet!" You put a halt to the pheromones you're spreading through your words.

You slyly smile, enjoying the little piece of authority you have over the show.

"The quest is, you have to guess who does what to you and whoever with the most correct answers," you turn around to show them the mysterious box behind you.

You step aside so everyone can look, "You'll get to open the mystery box!"

That earns a wave of applause from them, gets them wondering what's inside the box, and is determined to win the quest.

"Sadly, I don't know what's inside the box," you hurriedly tell them before they get suspicious that you know more than them.

You look around to spot any exciting person to kickstart the game. You notice that Mikaela seems eager to get something out of Rio.

"Mikaela, will you do the honor to be the first?"

She smiles brightly and confidently steps forward, squealing in excitement. You help put the eye mask on without ruining her styled hair and take a step back.

"You ready?" You ask her.

She wriggles her body, "I'm ready!"

Don't want to waste the chance, you steal a quick peck on her lips and earn a surprise gasp from some people.

"That's you!" Mikaela easily guesses.

You walk back to your seat while laughing and see that Rio is also taking his turn after you.

YOU: I got my make-up on, I did my hair and I'm... going to get a kiss from everyone [laughs]

Peyton stirs a little chaos as he kisses Sawyer and it's not hard to see a displease look on Nya's face after, probably for the rest of the night too.

The time finally comes to Avery's turn. She carefully covers her eyes with the eye mask and with a smile, she makes gestures with her hands.

"Come and get it," she says, swinging her hips side to side.

Han wastes not another second to sprint to her and lands the first kiss on her lips. He gives everything he has to offer, kissing her with the skill he honed from years of experience and putting all of himself into this one kiss.

A kiss that he hoped would be enough to enchant her and put her under his spell.

Han slowly pulls away as his lungs burn from the lack of oxygen, gasping as he looks at Avery's face.

"We share another common thing," he says.

"Huh? What?" Avery asks, still disoriented from the kiss.

"We're both great kissers," he answers.

Avery covers her mouth as she breaks into laughter and as soon as Han leaves his spot, Finn takes his turn to kiss her and he has to watch it.

"Oh, this is mad!" Rio comments while elbowing his sides next to him.

And right after that, Asher takes the next turn and kisses Avery, getting mixed reactions from everyone. That's probably because she gets the most kisses so far.

Avery takes off her eye mask and wipes her lips, trying to clean her smudged lipstick.

"Can you guess, Avery baby?" Nya asks.

She looks in his direction to get any clues on the person who kissed her.

"The first kiss is you," she easily guesses, using both hands to point at him.

Han is inexplicably proud of her for guessing right, he believes the peck helped her to identify his kiss.

"The second one is... uhm..." she bites her finger as she thinks.

She then scrunches her nose and doing it so adorably, "I think it's Finn?"

"And the last one?" You ask.

"That's Asher," she shortly answers, not having the slightest doubt in it.

Han looks at Asher who is nodding along, feeling cocky that Avery recognized his kiss. It seems like the competition has started for real.

HAN: The competition is... real mad! [laughs]

It's his turn now.

Han drains his drink that he's been sipping little by little and he needs every drop of courage to ready himself for it. When he looks at the other boys, they seem to have it easy because they're undeniably attractive and he feels slightly scared that the other will treat him differently because he's less attractive than the other.

Well, he should mainly focus on the keyword: attractive.

Han is attractive nonetheless.

The layer of anxiety is safely hidden behind his playful smirk as he takes his stand and covers his eyes with the eye mask. He licks his lips and slyly smiles as he says, "Come on! Daddy's home!"

Even though the possibility is close to zero percent, he badly wishes that he could get a kiss from Avery. He laughs as he remembers that he shouldn't take this too seriously, he's here to have fun, it's Party in Paradise.

He can hear the girls giggling and the boys cooing, he takes that as a sign that someone is approaching him. He swallows air as his heart is pitter-pattering and his chest filled with anticipation.

He's seen the other boys take their turn and everyone at least gets a smooch so he stands there expecting one as well.

Instead of that, he feels a kiss on his neck. He shouldn't feel disappointed but he can't help it. He focuses on trying to guess who it is.

Before getting his answer, he hears everyone cooing again and a few light claps.

He anticipates it and this time he believes that he'll get a kiss on the lips.

He indeed gets a kiss but not from one. He feels two pairs of lips kissing him at once and he doesn't mind it at all. It surprises him that he can only let them kiss him.

It's incredibly soft and warm, a little wet. He feels a few licks in here and there.

Too bad that he can't see it but it makes him visualize it in his head, him making out with these two girls, and fuck, it's so hot it gets him so horny.

He doesn't want to guess anymore, he keeps wanting to kiss them because they're both good at it, they know how to use their tongues, and makes him feel a bit lightheaded.

Someone pulls away first and he can hear her softly gasping while the other is still kissing him, taking a bit of his lower lip before letting it go.

Han hears another series of giggles but the sounds are fading, the girls are probably walking back to their seats. He takes a minute to compose himself, then takes off his eye mask.

The first thing he does to get his vision back is look at girls to scan any guilty faces. He can easily guess the one who kisses his neck.

"The one who kissed my neck is..." he points his finger at Sawyer and she reacts with blushed cheeks and a shy laugh, which proves that he's right.

This is where it gets tricky, he was enjoying every bit of that sexy makeout to try to guess who are they. He looks at the girls and they're giving him vague signs.

Sawyer is out of options and he knows Mikaela has no interest in him. That leaves you, Nya, and Avery.

As much as he wants to believe that it's Avery, he doesn't want to make it obvious to her. So he settles on you and Nya.

"Nah, you're wrong," Nya tells him.

His eyes widen in shock and he doesn't want to get over his head but is it possible that one of them is Avery?

He walks back to his seat with a dreading curiosity, "Who was it?"

Rio playfully punches his arm, "It's those girls!"

His eyes follow the direction of Rio's hand and he's even more surprised to know that he's right.

It's you and Avery.

HAN: I don't know what else to say [shrugs] I made out with the two hottest girls in the villa [smirks]

Not trying to compete with the other three boys but you're sure that the last person that kissed you is Avery.

"I know it's you," you point at her.

Avery may look like an angel, she walks and talks like an angel but she has the devil inside of her. You know that she's just like you, she's all about the vibe and having fun. You believe you would be good friends with her.

"I would be sad if you guessed it wrong," she says.

"I know," you coyly answer.

The game ends with you and it's time to announce the winner of the quest. It's an easy call because the one with the most correct guesses is none other than Avery.

"Come up here!" You order.

She gets up from her chair and walks up to you, leading her to the mystery box as she's the winner which earned her the chance to be the one opening it.

"I've been told that the content of this box will truly change this trip into an experience you won't forget," you inform everyone.

Avery gives you a nervous look as she grips the handle on the lid of the box.

"Are guys ready?" You ask everyone to keep the tension.

"Yeah!" They answer in unison.

You look at Avery and nod, "There's no turning back once you open it!"

You jokingly say that to scare her before walking back to your seat and joining everyone else as anticipation mounts in each passing second.

Avery looks at everyone and squints her eyes, "Count with me, please!"

Everyone agrees to start counting down together, "3..."

Avery decides to stand behind the box and holds the handle of the box again.

"2..."

You wonder what's inside the box, it looks small from where you're sitting but you have seen it up close, it could fit anything and it could be anything inside.

"1..."

Avery closes her eyes as she lifts the lid and the box unfolds on every side, exposing the content to everyone's watching.

You don't want to believe what you're seeing but then it chimes.

"Oh... fuck!" You curse out loud and you're not the only one doing so.

YOU: Are you joking?

"What is it?" Avery asks as she hasn't opened her eyes yet.

She then puts the lid away and sees what everyone is seeing, the cone that lights up in purple-hued colors.

"What is that?" She cluelessly asks.

"That's Lana!" Nya screams with a strained voice.

"That's fucking Lana!" She says again with a doomed expression.

Avery's eyes widen in horror and she drags herself back to sit, wedging herself between you and Mikaela.

You guess everyone is just in shock about the sudden turn of events and that everyone is trapped in her show. You hate that you know what's coming for you.

"This is Too Hot To Handle," Lana announces, telling everyone that she is running this show from the very beginning.

"You have been specially selected because you are all choosing meaningless sex over genuine relationships."

"Guilty!" Asher says with a hand raised like he's in a classroom.

"The purpose of this retreat is to help you gain deeper emotional connections in your personal relationships."

Avery drops her head on your shoulder and grumbles, "I don't want that, Lana."

You put your hand around her, feeling what she's feeling: betrayal and devastation.

"As always, there are conditions to your stay here. You must abstain from sexual practices for the entirety of your stay."

You close your eyes and try to take the first bitter pill, swallowing it dry, and pushing it as far down as you can.

"Are you jok—" Mikaela can't even finish her sentence.

"No kissing."

"What?" Avery gasps in disbelief.

"No heavy petting."

Mikaela sighs, running her hand to her hair and ruining her hairstyle altogether.

"And no sex of any kind."

That earns a lot of gasp from everyone and there goes down the biggest, most bitter pill you have to take.

"This also applies to self-gratification."

Mikaela sighs again while Nya squeals in both pain and amusement.

"What does it mean?" Sawyer innocently asks.

"You can't masturbate, babe," Avery answers her question with a pout.

"At all?" She asks again to confirm her fear.

So they threw a bunch of hot people into a villa and tricked them into thinking that they would be partying and having fun only to reveal that they're not allowed to have any physical contact? What in the 21st century way of torture is this?

YOU: There goes my plan to kiss everyone... I was planning to get a taste here and there and now it's like... No [sighs]

"As part of your social development, I have allocated a prize of $200,000."

Everyone's eyes turn green at the mention of money and the amount of it, also at the promise that they can win it.

"I'm a college student. I need that!" Finn comments from the end of the bench.

"Each time the rules are broken, money will be deducted from the prize fund."

Of course, it wouldn't be that easy to win that much money and now it looks like everyone would be leaving with nothing.

But with the rules are set and the prize is announced, the game gets serious now.

"Welcome to your long, hard, sexless summer," Lana finishes with the gloom casting on those words.

"Everyone gets ready now 'cause it's not Party in Paradise anymore," Nya reminds everyone with the harsh truth.

"It's hell now," Mikaela eggs in.

Han personally thinks this is worse than hell. Because at least in hell, he'd be allowed to get horny.

HAN: $200,000... That's a lot of money... to spend [smirks]

"Please, can we not?"

The last thing you want to hear is everyone complaining about the rules again and it's only dragging you down more than you allowed it to.

"I'm just upset..." Mikaela says as she takes off her earrings and puts them into a jewelry box.

"I know," you sigh, tossing your shoes into the bottom shelf of your closet.

It takes you a long time to get ready for bed but it's most likely because the girls are chatting and you can't help but join in. Trying to keep yourself away from sex is hard but being able to talk about it is what makes it bearable.

You and Avery walk to the bedroom with arms linked, you just know you'll be friends by how you identify a few traits of yours in her.

The boys are already taking their territory except for Finn, you know he's still in the dresser room. You're fine sharing a bed with anyone but you try not to make drama by getting on a bed with someone's person of interest.

Since Avery is the hot commodity, you make her choose where she'll sleep tonight.

"So, Avery, what's the bed situation?" You ask her.

A few pairs of ears perk up hearing the question and you notice that the three men competing are watching as Avery is making a decision.

She walks up to the bed in the middle, "I'll sleep here."

Asher triumphantly smiles as Avery climbs onto his bed and gets under the cover next to him.

Now that she has settled on a man, you can choose your bed partner at ease. Rio is off-limits unless you want to face Mikaela's wrath and Peyton is also out of the question, you don't want to mess with Nya.

You walk over to Han's bed and you kind of like the vibe he's giving you, you know he's into Avery but it's not like he has much of options, it's either you and Sawyer.

"Want to share a bed?" You ask.

Han glances at you and without answering, makes a space on the bed for you. He seems to take an interest in the tattoos inked your body and he notices that you're watching.

"How many tattoos do you have?" He asks.

You lean against the pillow stacked behind you, "Uhm... I never counted," you reply.

It's amusing to see the wonder in his eyes as he's looking at your tattoos, making you feel like teasing him.

"How about I get naked and you can count my tattoos for me?"

He blinks his eyes at you, "I can promise you I'll do well at that," he says.

You chuckle at his witty answer and outstretched your arms to showcase the small tattoos on both of your arms.

He turns on the bed to lay on his side facing you, "Which one is your favorite?"

You take a few seconds to think of an answer, "I think it's the one on my spine."

You take all of your hair to one shoulder before turning your back at him, to show him the tattoo you're talking about.

His finger pulls down the silk camisole you're wearing so he can take a better look at it.

"Yeah, that's nice," he agrees with you.

You lean back on your pillow again and look at him, "How about you? Do you have any favorite yet?" You playfully ask.

He slyly smiles even before he begins talking, "Well, I believe there are tattoos that I have not yet seen," he says with one eyebrow slightly raised higher than the other.

Han knows how to amuse you, he's attractive in a different way than the other guys. It makes you want to tease him more.

"You mean like this one?" You lift the front of your camisole to show him the tattoo you have under your left breast.

He almost chokes on air as he breaks into laughter, "That could be my favorite," he says.

You nod and laugh along with him, "I'll show you more but I'm afraid we have to wait for third base," you jokingly say.

That amuses him so much, he collapses on his side of the bed and covers his eyes as he laughs. He has that laugh that only enhances the hilarity and you can't help to laugh along.

YOU: Han is cute, yeah, I think we'll get on well.

The lights are on and Han would still be sleeping if you didn't shift on the bed to take your water tumbler from the bedside table.

As everyone is slowly getting up and dragging themselves out of slumber, Lana's chime startles everyone.

"Oh, it wasn't a dream," Nya groans from the next bed to his.

Yeah, right, Han forgot about the sex ban until that cone lights up on top of the small glass table in the middle of the room.

"Good morning, everyone!" Lana greets.

Han props a pillow behind his head and you take his arm out so you can rest your head on it.

"Morning, hon!" You sleepily reply.

"I'd like to remind you that you're in a retreat but I do hope you enjoy your summer of sun, sea, and no sex," Lana concludes her morning greeting, leaving everyone with the awakening truth that they're not allowed to touch each other.

Han looks over to Avery's bed and wonders how is he going to make a move on her with Lana cockblocking him?

"Right. I'm going back to sleep," you grumble, closing your eyes and nuzzling your head in his neck.

Han slips his hand in your hair, playing with it as he's listening to the talk happening in the room.

"Is anyone still pissed off?" Nya asks everyone how they feel.

Peyton is the first one to raise his hand and Mikaela adds her opinion on the matter, "I think it's impossible to connect with someone without touching them, don't you think?"

Han is too busy thinking of his game plan now that the competition is getting tough and Asher is a point ahead of him.

"I think we need to tell each other if someone is—" Sawyer's words got cut off by Asher.

"At the end of the day, just don't lie," Asher remarks.

Han turns his head to the side only to bury his nose in your hair, catching the scent of your shampoo.

"Your hair smells so good," he says to you.

You hum with your eyes still closed and splayed your hand on his chest, "And you have nice pecs."

You both softly laugh at the compliments you give each other.

Last night, you both fell asleep after having a chat about random things, getting to know each other with jokes slipped in between.

Han must say that he likes you, you're fun to be around and you don't take things seriously. But then again, his eyes are on Avery.

HAN: I woke up next to her and it was great, I like her but... I like Avery more.

After taking a quick dip in the beach, you're walking past the boys who are working out on the way back to the villa.

"Looking good wet," Asher teases you with a lopsided grin on his face.

Too bad you're immune to sweet nothings like that, you flash him a smile and keep climbing the stairs back to the villa.

The other girls are already done with their make-up and leaving the dressing room empty, allowing you to get ready in peace.

In the middle of doing your hair, Nya enters the room and takes a seat next to you.

"What's up, hottie?" You ask while looking in the mirror to make sure you don't burn your scalp with the straightening iron.

Nya grabs her make-up pouch from the other side of the vanity table and takes out a brush. She seems to have something to say to you but hesitates to tell you.

After a while, she finally confesses, "Peyton and I, we kissed last night."

You're more shocked by the fact that she shares this with you rather than the kiss itself. They're horny for each other, it's only about time that they rule break.

You softly chuckle and gently comb your hair with your fingers, "How many times?"

"Just once," she answers while applying makeup on her cheeks.

"I'm impressed!" You playfully respond.

Nya chuckles at that and swivels her chair to face you, "What do you think? Is it three grand? For a kiss?" She asks with a nervous smile.

You put down the straightening iron and lean back on your chair, "I think so, yeah."

Nya takes lipstick out of her pouch next, "I didn't give a fuck at that moment," she says.

From your observation, Nya indeed doesn't give a fuck about the rules. She broke them hours after Lana put on the sex ban and you believe she wouldn't stop there.

"You saw how he kissed me last night during the game and I was a bit horny that we're sharing the bed..." she stops talking as she breaks into breathless chuckles.

"So, Peyton, huh?"

"Well, yeah, once I set my eyes on someone, I will get them," Nya remarks, affirming her strong personality.

"Sorry not sorry, Sawyer," she adds and couldn't care less about anyone else.

Which reminds you to never get on her bad side. You continue styling your hair while keeping the conversation going.

"Yeah, I think you guys are so cute," you comment even though you're not sure that Peyton will make a loyal partner considering that he kissed another girl right in front of her.

"What about you? How are you feeling?" She asks.

This is a dating show and you're well aware that you should get a partner to make this work but no one really tugs at your heartstrings.

Well, there is Han but he's certainly not available to you.

"I came to meet people and have fun, that's what I'm here for," you settle on a simple answer because you have no idea what you can do without a partner in this show.

"Yeah, yeah," Nya half-heartedly responds, "but who are you feeling?"

You must take another pause on doing your hair, "I like Han, he's cute. I like cute guys," you honestly answer.

Nya smiles listening to you talking, "He is. He is cute."

"But I think he's into Avery," you add, not letting her encourage you to pursue him.

Nya nods, getting the gist of it since it's obvious that Avery is the most popular girl in the retreat. She swipes her full lips with nude-colored lipstick and smacks her lips together.

"Once they know about the kiss, we're going to get hated," Nya once again worries about what would happen when Lana announces the infraction they've done last night.

"I think you should just... own up to it," you suggest.

Honest is the best policy and also, you think people will be less upset if they admit their mistake right away.

YOU: Knowing that someone already broke the rules. It's only about time that someone else starts doing it too.

Han has just come out of the shower when Lana calls everyone to the cabana.

He combs his wet hair fast and walks with Finn to where everyone has gathered, sitting on the curved sofa facing the cone-shaped lady.

He squeezes himself between you and Sawyer, putting his arm on the headrest of the sofa as he waits for Lana to come online.

You look over your shoulder at him, "You smell nice."

"I showered," he simply answers with a sly grin on his face.

"That changes everything," you joke, then rest your head on his shoulder,

The cone lights up followed by the melodic chime that he should get used to hearing it. There must be a reason why everyone is called to the cabana, someone must have done something.

"Hello, everyone!" Lana begins.

"Hey, Lana," he replies, suddenly feeling nervous even though he hasn't done anything yet.

"The rules of my retreat have already been broken."

Everyone collectively gasps at that announcement and this is where they get suspicious of each other.

"Oh, no..." Sawyer sighs.

Finn sits on the edge of the sofa and clasps his hands together in front of him, "Anybody wants to come clean?" He asks.

Han gets the feeling that Finn would play the good cop here and he also senses that you know something, "Did we kiss in our sleep or what?"

"If that's the case, I wouldn't stop at kissing," you joke back at him with a gentle slap on his forearm.

Unexpectedly, what you said makes him flutter inside, he almost forgot that someone broke the rules and possibly, it involves Avery.

"I'm so confused," Sawyer says as if it's a math problem that she needs to solve.

No one wants to come forward and it creates animosity in the air. He doesn't like what this leads to, he hopes that someone comes forward so things won't get ugly.

"Who's guilty?" He throws the question in with his eyes uneasily glancing in Avery's direction.

"I thought we were going to be truthful with each other," Finn reminds everyone about the unwritten rules they made this morning.

The calm on Nya's face shatters as Rio says, "You're looking real guilty right now, Nya."

"Yeah, okay, it was me," she finally confesses.

Nya tips her head to the side then looks at Peyton, "Peyton and I kissed."

Han glares at Peyton, he expects that at least he would man up and own up to it. But Han feels a relief knowing that it wasn't Avery.

"This breach of rules has cost the group $3,000," Lana announces.

Oh? Three thousand dollars? For a kiss? That's a surprise but still, he would spend that much for a kiss with Avery.

"The prize fund now stands at $197,000," Lana updates.

"I'm so vexed, you know," Finn says, being the only one who is genuinely upset about losing money.

While the others... the others seem to have waited for someone to break the wave so they can start to rule break too.

And that includes him.

HAN: Best believe if anybody is going to rule break next, it's me [cackles]

"Hello, I'm Josh and I'm a professional tantric practitioner," the instructor for today's workshop introduces himself.

Your eyebrow raises in intrigue at the mention of the word 'tantric' and how it would help everyone to not think about sex.

"Tantric? What is that?" Sawyer naively asks next to you.

"Just listen to the instructor," you tell her with a pat on her shoulder.

"Usually, when we relate to other people, everything is fast, right?" Josh says.

You nod in agreement while shielding your eyes from the bright sun.

"Someone touches you, you touch them back. You kiss this person, they kiss you back but we don't feel it," he eloquently explains while walking around and making eye contact with everyone.

"That's what this workshop is for. For you to learn how to feel your body," he further explains.

He walks back to the middle and looks at everyone, "Pleasure is not in the other. Pleasure is in yourself."

Then Josh orders everyone to gather in the middle as he explains what we're going to do next. He holds a tray full of blindfolds for everyone.

"Usually, people relate tantra to sexuality. But that's just a really small part. Every aspect of you can benefit from increased awareness," Josh informs.

He then offers the tray to Asher who stands close to him, ordering him to get one.

"So we're going to broaden the awareness of our vision, of our breathing, our sounds, our movements..."

You put the blindfold on and tie it around your head, putting you in total blindness.

"We put the blindfolds on so the experience can just be your experience," he concludes before starting the session.

Josh instructs everyone to move their bodies, walk around, and eventually bump into each other's bodies. You get goosebumps when your body crashes with someone, you can feel their heat and feel them skin-to-skin.

Then Josh orders everyone to take a step back and blindly, get a partner to do the next session.

You catch the person that you inexplicably guess is standing in front of you and holding him.

"Oh, I found one!" You reflexively say.

Your partner chuckles at that and from the laugh, you can tell who it is.

"Got you," you tell him with a grin.

"Okay, now, breathe..." Josh instructed, "Breathe her in. Breathe him in."

You slip your hands under and around his waist while he places his hands on your back, also holding you back.

You lean your head forward and meet his head in the middle, ending up putting our heads together. This way you can feel his breath on you and every subtle sound he makes.

"It's time to reveal who your partner was," Josh finally allows everyone to take their blindfolds off.

You untie it on the back of your head and burst into laughs the moment your eyes meet.

YOU: I just can tell who it is the moment we touch [laughs]

"These emotional processes happen but they can only be experienced if you're present."

Now that everyone has partnered up, each pair takes a seat on the mat and sits facing each other. As Han puts his legs on each side of you, you decide to put your legs over his.

"You can get back to your connection through the eyes," Josh continues.

You both can't stop laughing at each other and the longer you maintain eye contact with him, the more you can't stop yourself from laughing.

"Don't lose her. Don't lose him."

"I think it would be better if we close our eyes," you suggest, holding his hands in substitute of that and pressing your heads together.

"Tantra is a way of connecting with your essence. With your feelings."

And you focus on doing what Josh told you to do, focusing on your breathing to be able to intensely feel things with your senses.

"Deep breathe, not deep penetration," Han reminds you.

Once again, you fail to keep your composure and break into a wave of laughter.

"Now, lie down. It's time for you to feel your whole body vibration."

You both lie down facing against each other with your legs still around him and he places his hand on your shin, softly rubbing the skin with his thumb.

"One must learn to connect deeply with oneself. That's tantra. A way through which you can truly connect with yourself."

Maybe because you let yourself open to it, you can feel that connection, it's as if your body is one with earth. You can feel the ground beneath, you can hear the waves crashing and the warmth of the afternoon sun on your skin.

"Now you can sit up," Josh orders.

You slowly open your eyes and sit up, meeting Han's eyes again but this time, you smile at him.

"That was good," you mutter to him.

"Right?" He agrees with you.

You rest your head on his shoulder and continue to sit close facing each other, feeling each other's bodies in a whole new way.

Josh finishes the workshop with one last instruction: a group hug.

YOU: I think I learned how to get to know myself better and to not hold in what I really feel [smiles]

"You all look so sexy!"

You compliment everyone who's getting ready in the dressing room while searching for someone. Avery gleefully smiles at your compliment.

"You look good in those sexy jeans!"

It sounds like she's making fun of it and you look down to check if you look okay in what you're wearing, "Am I underdressed?"

"No. Your butt looks cute in it," Avery assures you with a playful slap on your clothed ass.

To make room for everyone else who hasn't gotten ready yet, you move to the bedroom and find the one you're looking for. Han is sitting on the bed already dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt with the top three buttons left open.

After the workshop, you feel somehow closer to him and you get along really well, you wonder if it could be more.

"Hiya, sexy!" You greet him.

Han glances up and pats the space on the bed, gesturing for you to sit next to him.

"How are you?" He asks.

"Good. You?" You ask back while sitting down and propping a hand against the bed.

"I'm good, thanks," he answers with a smile.

There's no one else in the bedroom and you take it as an opportunity to ask him about something.

"So, where's your head at?" You ask.

Han puts his hand under his head and simply says, "It's right here."

You chuckle and tip your head to the side, "I mean... who do you like in here?"

He takes a moment to take a deep breath and you guess picking his words carefully before answering you, "I think I get on really well with you," he begins.

And it's good to know that he feels the same way about it.

"But I'm more attracted to Avery," he adds, not even hesitating to tell you about it.

Well, it's also good to know that he can openly and comfortably share things with you.

"Yeah," you say, expecting that answer already.

Yet you can't quite hide your disappointment, you look away and pretend to fix your hair. That's just him basically saying that you have a great personality but that's not enough to attract him.

"As you know the three of us are pursuing Avery and we don't know which one she likes..." he says while rubbing his chin.

Instead of being salty about it, you decide to be a friend to him and give him your opinion.

"I think if you like someone, you go for it. There's no time to waste, just go and get it," you encourage while mindlessly running your hand on the bedsheet.

"Yeah," Han's head bobbing in agreement.

"You should talk to Avery and see how she feels about you," you add.

It is obvious that Han likes Avery but he's playing the cool guy trick by thinking that he'll win her over by acting like he doesn't care.

YOU: Oh, well... [awkwardly chuckles] I kind of expected that answer.

After the workshop, Han realizes that you and he bounce off each other, you're tuned in to the same wave and he agrees that it has the potential to be something more than that.

However, Han feels like he should keep pursuing Avery. Mostly because he's attracted to her, almost magnetic, and the fact that he has competition makes him want her more.

He gets out of the bedroom after knowing that Avery is no longer in the dressing room.

Turns out, Finn is already making his move on her. He sees them talking in the firepit and having a laugh, but he can't hear what they're talking about. Finn shortly leaves after kissing her on the hand.

So he's playing the romantic guy, Han reckons.

Avery once said that he likes bad boys and so he'll be it. Bad boys don't make it obvious that he likes her, they wait until they come around.

So Han decides that should be his game plan, sitting on the sofa and you know, waiting for Avery to come around.

HAN: I'm not worried about Asher so my game plan is to play it cool and see where it goes. She'll come to the right man... eventually [laughs]

After hours of no significant result, Han walks back inside to get a new place to hang out.

He decides to go to the bedroom, pushing the door with both hands only to walk into Asher and Avery cuddling on the bed.

Now he sees the flaw in his game plan, he slowly walks back out of the room as everything backfired to him.

When it's time for bed, he couldn't be happier.

Han dives into his pillow and takes a deep breath, blowing some steam off.

A moment later, he feels the bed quaking as you get on and playfully, put your body on top of him.

"We're like the twin bar ice cream," He grumbles as your body presses onto him.

His body shakes along with yours as you're laughing on top of him, then rolling yourself to the side and onto the bed next to him.

"How was your night?" You ask, playing with his dark hair.

"Average," he shortly answers.

"I'm asking about your night, not your genital size," you joke.

He chuckles before answering, "Then it's below average."

If there's anyone that makes this retreat bearable to him then it's you. He can share everything with you and what he likes the most about it is that he can seek comfort from you too.

Han scoots closer and puts his hand across your chest which you nicely welcomed. You're caressing his forearm with only your fingertips and it's relaxing him.

When the lights are out, you pull his arm and put it around you as you lie on your side with your back against his chest.

"Goodnight," you murmur.

He hesitates but with his mouth pressed close to you, he decides to kiss you on the top of your head.

"Goodnight," he murmurs back, snuggling his head on the crook of your neck.

HAN: I guess nice guys do finish last [laughs]

The bathroom is pretty much occupied by the two tall lovebirds, Rio and Mikaela.

You almost walk in on them applying sunblock on each other's bodies and slowly, walking back out of there. Stepping into the dressing room, you find Nya there with Avery who's busy putting her hair into a ponytail.

"Hello, babes," you greet them as you take a seat in your usual spot and decide to put on your sunscreen there when you usually put it on in the bathroom because it can get messy.

Mikaela joins in not long after and sits next to you, fixing her hair with a brush.

"Has anything been going on late at night?" Nya asks her since Mikaela and Rio turned up to their bed late last night.

"We held off pretty well, I guess," Mikaela answers with her half-moaning voice.

"Yeah, but has he been getting hard?" Nya asks again, being nosy as she is.

"We're pretty close," Mikaela answers with a cryptic smile.

You look at her with a dollop of sunscreen on your cheek, "Pretty close? What's that even mean?" You tease.

Before Mikaela can answer that, Lana butts in with her familiar chime, and everyone's heads turn to the cone sitting on the shelf.

"Uh-oh!" You gasp in surprise and awkwardly continue dabbing your cheeks with sunscreen.

"Girls," Lana calls out to everyone in the dressing room.

"Yeah?" Nya replies with a shocked smile.

"Please gather everyone in the bedroom," Lana orders.

You sense that Mikaela did something last night from the horror drawn on her face with her round eyes widening in slight shock.

Nya gets up from her chair but you haven't finished with your sunscreen yet.

"I'll catch up," you tell her.

You put on a sheer top over your bikini before heading to the bedroom and see that everyone is already there including Han.

He holds his hand out for you to take, gesturing for you to sit close to him at the end of your shared bed.

YOU: This can't be good news [scrunches nose]

Other than Mikaela, you notice another pair of guilty faces. No surprise if Nya broke another rule but also, you kind of guessed that Avery did something too, she keeps shaking her leg uncomfortably.

Lana chimes and the tension is already rising in the room.

"There have been breaches of the rules," Lana goes straight to business.

"Breaches?" Finn focuses on the plural terms that could tell how much money he'll be losing today.

As someone without a partner, you can relax since no one will be suspicious of you. You put your legs over Han's and rest your hand on his shoulder.

Heads are turning against each other but no one is saying anything.

"Mmh..." Avery lets out a low sigh.

You bet she did something and if yes, who did she do it with? You look at Han and wonder if he did what you told him to just go and get her.

"I'll be honest with you guys..." Asher speaks up.

There goes your answer. Avery did kiss but it's with Asher and you don't know why you feel some sort of relief on knowing it.

"I definitely lost some money last night," he pauses to scratch his head, "I pulled Avery aside and kissed her."

Avery shyly smiles and sputters her apology, "I'm–I am sorry, you guys."

Your eyes silently shift at Han and notice that he's not pleased to hear his love interest got kissed by someone else.

"This is what I wanted and I felt a genuine connection there," Asher adds.

What a way to prove that he wants to delve further into this relationship but Avery doesn't seem to be happy to hear his man declare that she is what he wanted.

"So sorry, guys," Asher concludes.

It would be stupid of you to hope that that's the only kiss that happened last night.

"There was another breach of the rules," Lana says again and she won't stop until everyone comes clean.

You look at Nya and she's not looking at anyone. Peyton seems to have decided to keep denying it and staying quiet about it.

Mikaela sighs then closes her eyes, "Why don't you tell them, Rio," she says to the man next to her.

Rio licks his lips and opens his mouth, but words do not come out of it until a minute later.

"We kissed a couple of times last night," Rio confesses and pinches the bridge of his nose after.

"A couple?" Finn asks for confirmation.

You guess what he needs to know is how many kisses in numbers.

"Five times," Rio answers.

"Oh, my gosh!" Avery sighs while rubbing her temple.

That makes you sweat a little and you take your hand off of Han's shoulder to fiddle with the strap of your bikini, also because you sense that Han gets tensed beside you.

"I mean, I can tolerate one or two kisses but five?" You confront them and keep your tone calm to not trigger anyone.

It's not a genuine connection if you needed five kisses to convince you that you're emotionally connected so yeah, you doubt that Rio and Mikaela have it.

"If you had that genuine connection, what would you do?" Rio says in his defense.

"I don't know, maybe try a bit harder?" Han finally lets out an opinion with an insinuating tone, driven by the slight anger he gets from Avery and Asher's kiss.

"That's just a waste of money," Finn mutters from his bed and a deep sigh.

"Is that all, Lana?" You ask, wanting to get it over with.

"There was another breach of the rules," Lana shares.

You don't even hold yourself back from groaning and rolling your eyes. You didn't plan to get this mad but hearing these people kissing and spending money recklessly ticked you off.

"We'll have no money," Finn mutters again and collapses onto the bed.

"Why are you smiling, Peyton?" Asher asks.

Peyton is indeed smiling and looking calm for a guilty man, "I kissed Nya last night."

Sawyer raises her hand like she's in a classroom but that works to get everyone's attention, "Wait, I'm a little confused about it because you said you were going to pursue things with me," she drops a truth bomb out of nowhere.

Nya turns Peyton around to force him to look at her, "You said to me that you wanted me, not her," she spoils more rotten truth.

This whole thing turns into a she said, he said situation and you can only watch them, going back and forth, pointing fingers at each other.

"I hate being lied to," Sawyer mutters.

Peyton rubs his chin and concludes, "I never lied to you," he says to Sawyer.

Then he turns to Nya and tells her the same thing, "And I never lied to you."

Can't help it, you let out a stifled laugh because Peyton not only digging his own grave but also putting nails on his coffin.

The ones that benefited from this are Rio and Mikaela, the love triangle mess is taking the heat off of them.

"It's obviously not working," Nya ends things for good.

Thankfully, Lana takes control of the situation to deliver the bills.

"All of these rule breaks have made me decide to implement a stricter regime. The fines will now be doubled starting with these rule breaks."

Your jaw drops at the announcement and get dizzy thinking of how much those five kisses cost alone.

"These multiple rule breaks have cost the group $42,000," Lana updates.

You scoff at the amount of money spent on a few silly kisses and have to take a few deep breaths to calm yourself.

"The prize fund now stands at $155,000."

Everyone is just as gobsmacked by how much money has been lost from the prize and if everyone keeps doing it, all of you would likely go home with nothing.

YOU: We might as well pack our things now and go home [shrugs]

A week has passed and you start to feel that you're merely wasting time here.

Not much happened around here especially after Peyton and Nya's ship sank right after that messy fight. In the end, Peyton doesn't get either Nya or Sawyer and he deserves every bit of it.

The retreat is not only about couple growth but still... If only you had someone to try to make a connection with, you would enjoy this whole experience more.

You wake up in the morning, have a few cuddles with Han, and then everyone is moving on with their day. There's not much you can do here but you try to participate as much by not breaking the rules.

As if you have someone to do it with.

Avery joins you as you walk down to the beach to swim at the beach. With the low tide, you can sit on the beach with her to cool down after swimming.

"Avery baby, tell me, how are things with Asher?" You ask out of curiosity.

What Asher did that day, defending her and openly telling everyone how he feels about her, you expect her to be swooned if not smitten.

But from what you've been seeing, it seems like things have cooled down between them.

"To be honest, I don't know..." she is just as confused as you.

"But out of all the three boys, you like him right?" You try to make it simple for her.

"Yeah, I like Asher because he's great, he made the first move and got an edge to him..." she explains.

You nod and support your chin with the back of your hand, "What he did that day, I think that's very endearing of him," you give her your honest opinion just in case she needs an assurance from someone outside that relationship.

"Yeah, he was like... expressed his feelings and telling everyone how he feels about me," Her facial expression gradually turns sour as you sense a 'but' coming from her small mouth.

"But I just don't like when people are like that to me," she says with a repulsed expression.

"I get really..." she ends the sentence with a groan.

The problem with Avery is that she doesn't know what she wants. Other than that, now you know why Asher flirted with you this morning but knowing that he initially likes Avery makes you feel like you're his backup plan.

Here's the thing about you, you don't like being a second choice.

YOU: You know what, Lana? I think we need more dicks in the villa [laughs]

Han feels like his breakfast is about to come up as he hears the sound of that melodic chime. He hears it often enough yet he feels even more anxious the more he hears it.

"Please be good news," Han mutters next to you.

You put your hand on his thigh, playing with a lint of his swimming trunk.

"Hello, everyone!" Lana greets.

He turns his head at the same time you look at him, sending both of you burst into laughter.

"Here we go," Asher mutters with a nervous sigh.

"To further aid your personal growth, you must learn to resist your urges."

That catches his interest but also makes his heart start to beat faster. Lana is unpredictable and Han hates that.

"I have arranged two dates."

That makes some people relax, at least, it's not about losing more money from the prize fund. Han, personally, has not yet recovered from losing a quarter of the prize money.

"Both with new arrivals," Lana finishes her sentence.

Other than Rio and Mikaela, everyone else seems to be excited about this. New guests mean new chances to make a connection.

"I have allowed the new arrivals to select who they want to ask out on their date."

Han is having mixed feelings about this. He knows that Avery is no longer with Asher but he's slowly losing his interest in her. Maybe the new arrivals can help him move on.

"The first new arrival is... Gwen."

So it's a girl, well, Han can do something about this Gwen. He feels hopeful once again and maybe this time, triumph will be his.

"Gwen has chosen... Rio to be her date."

All eyes are on Mikaela as she tries so hard to remain calm about this but everyone knows that she's fuming inside.

"You seem happy, Rio," Asher teases him which Rio coyly responds with a shrug.

"And date number two will be with Fabian."

His head turns as he hears hears you cooing in wonder, "He sounds exotic," you mutter.

Nya is the most excited one and it's probably because she needs to show Peyton that he's got nothing on her anymore.

"Fabian has chosen... Nya to be his date."

Han doesn't know why he feels glad knowing that this new guy didn't choose you but does that make him the bad guy? He doesn't think so.

"Rio and Nya, you may leave to get ready for the date," Lana orders.

He hasn't seen the new arrivals yet but he can imagine the amount of drama he'll witness later with Rio going on a date with the new girl.

HAN: The new arrivals, uh... they can't be ugly, right Lana? [Snickers]

The first one to return from the date is Nya and she's bringing a man who's taller than Rio and talks in a French accent.

Han can see that Nya is already all over him and he glances at Peyton who ends up with no one but his own player ass. He just knew that Peyton had it coming for him since that game night when he boldly kissed two girls.

He grabs his first drink of the day with the staff only allowed every contest to take three drinks max and when he gets back to the terrace, he sees a gorgeous girl with blond hair.

Rio is introducing the girl around while Mikaela is intensely watching him from the cabana with furrowed brows and eyes filled with fiery glints like a hawk.

When it comes to his turn, he doesn't bother making a good first impression.

"Han," he simply tells her his name.

"I'm Gwen, hi," she introduces herself.

With the few inches he doesn't have, Gwen can easily put her arm around him for a quick hug, "Nice to meet you!"

Gwen is undeniably beautiful, anyone who looks at her would agree with him. Surprisingly, he's not as excited as he imagined he would be.

Well, the last thing he wants to do is compete to win a girl over and he doesn't want to entertain the idea that Gwen would take a liking to him.

Despite all that, Rio and Mikaela remain strong. Everyone is staying on the same bed and because Nya and Sawyer refuse to sleep with Peyton, he has to share the bed with Finn.

Han feels good knowing that he doesn't have to deal with such drama, he walks to his bed and does not hesitate to cuddle you.

"Hi, sexy bunny," he mutters close to your ear.

The two of you have this inside joke of calling each other silly, childish pet names and yesterday, you called him

'tater tot' and he laughs whenever he recalls it.

"Hi, bubble butt," you reply.

He laughs at that and playfully bites at your shoulder to get back at you. Somehow, the only one he can comfortably share his space with is you and he realizes how grateful he should be for your presence.

"Goodnight, everyone," Avery says while blowing kisses to everyone.

Han tickles your neck with his nose and purposely, breathes into your ear, "Goodnight!"

You giggle in reaction to his tickling breath, "Night!"

He presses a soft, lingering kiss on your head and that's how he ends his day on a sweet note.

HAN: I wasn't attracted to her but now I feel bad for not giving her any attention.

"It's like working out with Zeus, bro!" Han says, watching Rio working out non-stop while he's sitting on the mat, drenched in sweat for doing not even half of the workout Rio is doing.

Rio carefully lowers down the heavy dumbbells and reorganizes his breath as he takes a break.

"So, are you still chasing Avery?" Rio asks.

Han sucks water out of the bottle, then licks his lips before answering him, "Honestly speaking, I'm losing interest," he answers.

He knows that it'll be different to everyone but seeing what happened to her and Asher, there's a chance that things would likely end up the same.

He's tired of chasing and she keeps hanging up on him, "I think Avery enjoys the thrill, the chase..." he adds while running out of breath.

"Yeah, I think so too," Rio agrees with him.

He then lies down on his back and starts doing sit-ups as if his abs aren't as hard as rock already.

"What about that new girl then?"

"Gwen?"

"Yep, she's pretty," Rio says, being the one who went on a date with her.

"Are you going to make a move on her?"

Han caught Asher making the eyes with Gwen last night and he's not that interested to even try.

Looking at Rio tirelessly working out, he feels motivated to continue and picks up dumbbells.

"You know, I'm feeling it more with my bed partner," Han honestly says.

"I know you like her," Rio says with a glare at him.

He stops doing sit-ups and points at Han, "You just don't want to admit it."

Han has to pause on lifting his dumbbells to continue talking. He suddenly gets flustered because that's true, he keeps denying that there's something more between him and you.

"You two vibe really well," Rio says and he has never seen him being this earnest.

Han stops working out altogether and drops the dumbbells on the floor, "it's because Avery is so my type," he simply defends himself.

"But uh..." he pauses to catch a breath.

"But when I spend time with her, it's... natural," he explains and he doesn't care if that doesn't make sense to Rio, "It's so much fun."

Han breaks down on the floor and wipes the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand, "I overlooked her because she doesn't look like my type."

Rio nods and intently listens to him speak.

"As soon as I saw Gwen last night, I was like... I still prefer her," he admits.

Han doesn't know why he can easily share his feelings with Rio, probably because he feels like a brother to him. Rio taps his shoulder hard enough that it launches him forward.

"You guys are cute together, and get along well, I don't see why you shouldn't try it, man!" He looks so annoyed and eager to see it happen.

Han laughs at that but he wishes he could easily share his feelings like this to you.

HAN: Maybe I should open up and accept how I'm feeling rather than keep seeking what's not there.

The mud is drying as you're walking back to the villa after having a girls-only workshop at the beach.

You share the shower with Sawyer to wash off the dried mud and waste no time getting ready for a party Lana throws to welcome the new arrivals.

The dressing room is crowded so you grab your make-up pouch to do it in the bathroom and you can do the hair later when it's less crowded in there.

For now, you're brushing your wet hair to the back while looking at your reflection in the mirror.

As you're about to apply moisturizer, you see Han walking into the bathroom and the first thing you see is that gummy smile of his.

"Hi, stud muffin," you playfully call him.

He would usually laugh at the pet names you called him but he only smiles in response, the kind that you've never seen on him.

"What's up?" You ask in wonder.

He doesn't say anything but leans against the sink facing you, looking at you with a cryptic smile dancing on his face.

He finally does something, walking up to you and placing his hands on each side of your waist. Slowly, he brings his mouth to your ear and whispers, "I missed you."

You reflexively burst into waves of laughter and think that he's just playing with you.

"I'm getting concerned," you tell him with a nervous laugh.

Han is also laughing and then he leans in to whisper again, "I miss you when you're not around."

You're giggling because the last thing you expect is to hear him saying that he missed you even though you've only been apart from each other for about three hours.

"Aww..." you coo at him, laughing the second your eyes meet in a gaze.

He cups your jaw then tilts your head, and you close your eyes in reflex. Instead of what you thought it would be, he softly whispers.

"I think I like you."

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