#prayed straight to god that maybe you’d

[minaaaliyah]

Chapter 1

Why couldn’t life be easy? Why couldn’t you come into this world with a blueprint—a map laid out, step-by-step, telling you what path to take and when to take it? Instead, life tosses you in blindfolded, hands tied, heart exposed. You’re left to fumble through the dark, trying to make sense of the noise.

No one said life was going to be worth living. But here you are.

A healer.

You could ease a person’s pain with nothing more than an herb and a prayer. Your mama was an herbalist, your daddy, a doctor. You’d been learning how to use what the earth gave you since before you could even say the word “medicine.” It was in your blood—something ancient, something sacred, something that flowed in your veins like second nature.

Your mama swore she knew you were special before you even took your first breath. Said she felt it in her belly—that you were a gift that kept on giving. Said you’d shine so bright you could kill someone. Of course, she was being dramatic—mothers always are—but still, mothers know. And when you started helping her in her home herb shop at the ripe age of six, you began to understand what she meant.

People would come in for chamomile, peppermint, maybe some eucalyptus for a cold. But you felt something deeper. A tug in your chest, a whisper from something unseen. You knew they were battling more than a stuffy nose. You’d walk up, press your little hand to theirs, and pray. Ask the Gods to bring them peace, clarity, safety. And somehow, it worked. Words from the mouth of a child with old-soul power behind them.

After that, Mama made sure you never forgot what you were. “Keeping a gift like that to yourself is a sin, girl,” she’d say. “And the Gods will snatch it back as fast as they gave it to yuh.”

Now, you’re twenty-five, a single mother working at Annie’s Place just trying to keep your head above water. You live above the restaurant, scraping by. There’s food on the table, bills paid—barely. Mama still helps here and there—mostly for your daughter, Yara—but she kicked you out the moment you said you didn’t want to use your gift anymore. Claimed she was doing what was right. But you know better. You feel it in your bones. She’s just waiting for that power to resurface, maybe even hoping it’ll pass into your daughter.

Still, you stay quiet. You need her.

Besides your mama, you don’t really have anyone. Your father past three years ago. You’re an only child. And friends? Sure, you have Mary and Perlene, but they’ve got lives of their own. They saw that past-due light bill taped to your door and said nothing—just shook their heads and kept it moving. You never asked for help. Hated the idea of owing anybody anything. So, you struggle in silence. You don’t cry, don’t break, don’t pause. You can’t. You’ve got a child to raise, shifts to work, bills to pay. Life’s not fairytale magic—it’s survival. But it’s yours. And you live it for her.

“Nyx, you know you ain’t got no time to be sitting up on that damn phone,” Annie’s voice called from the kitchen, carrying the scent of fresh-fried fish.

Looking up from the counter, I muttered a quiet curse. Of course she came out now. I tucked my phone into my pocket.

“Sorry, Annie. I’m just waitin’ to see if Yara got that scholarship to the private school. They said emails go out at four. It’s 4:05.”

Annie shrugged. “Girl don’t stress. She’s gonna get it. Now, help me with these plates.”

I pulled on gloves and joined her behind the bar. The place was slow today—Naomi was handling the few customers we had.

“You know, Nyx,” Annie said, handing me a to-go box, “if you need help payin’ for Babygirl’s school, I can—”

“No, ma’am,” I cut her off. “If she doesn’t get it, I’ll just get another job.”

She gave me that look—the one that could slice you straight to your soul.

“Nyx,” she said slowly, “when exactly are you planning to work another job? You’re here 10 to 5, then you’re running across town to pick up Yara. Who���s gonna take care of her? When you gonna sleep?”

Annie doesn’t lie. Doesn’t sugarcoat. Doesn’t indulge in fantasy. She gives you truth, sharp and unflinching. I looked at her like she just kicked my dog and told me it was for my own good.

But she wasn’t wrong.

Still shaking my head, I slipped my phone back out. One new email.

Dear Ms. Noorani, We are excited to share the wonderful news that your child, Yara Noorani, has been selected to receive a scholarship for the upcoming school year!

This award reflects your family’s commitment to early education and your child’s joyful spirit and enthusiasm for learning. We are thrilled to welcome you into our school community and look forward to supporting your child’s growth and development.

You will receive more information soon about next steps, including enrollment details and how the scholarship will be applied.

Congratulations again, and we can’t wait to see Yara Noorani shine!

“ANNIE!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “Oh my God, Annie—she got it!”

I spun around the kitchen, nearly knocking over the fish.

Annie just smirked. “That’s great and all, but if you don’t stop jumpin’ around, I’ma make you work a double.”

I laughed, breathless and warm all over. I hugged her tight, told her I’d see her later, and clocked out. Then I called a ride.

I rode with the windows cracked, warm summer air brushing against my cheeks as the city blurred by. The scholarship email kept replaying in my head like a hymn. She got it. My baby got it. The one thing that could lift her out of the mess I was buried in.

Mama's house was on the east side—tucked behind rows of overgrown bougainvillea and rusted garden gates, looking just like the woman who owned it: wild and unbothered by what people thought. I climbed the stairs two at a time, heart thudding, already picturing Yara’s big smile when she heard the news. But something stopped me at the top step.

A smell—faint, earthy, thick with sage and sandalwood—curling from the porch like it had a message of its own. Mama was burning again. That usually meant spirits had been nearby. Or something worse. I stepped inside. “Mama?” I called. She was in the back, kneeling on the floor, her hands deep in a bowl of red clay and water. Her head snapped up when she heard my voice. “You felt that too?” she asked.

I hesitated. “Felt what? “But I had. A subtle twist in the air. A hum behind my ribs. She wiped her hands on a towel and stood, looking older than I remembered. “They been callin’ you again, haven’t they? The spirits. The energy. You’re runnin’ from it, but it’s catchin’ up.”

I didn't answer. Instead, I gave her the news. “Yara got the scholarship.” Her eyes lit up—just for a moment—but the shadow returned quickly. “She’s gonna need it,” she murmured. “The girl’s light is growin’. And so are the eyes watchin’ her.”

Mama, please don’t start,” I said, brushing past her into the kitchen. “Just be happy. For once.”

I opened the cabinet, pulling out Yara’s small backpack and snacks, already mentally running through the checklist for the morning store run. “All I’m trying to do is warn you, Nyx,” Mama said, following close behind. “The spirits been talkin’. They said there’s a man out there—he’s coming for you. And he ain’t good news.” I sighed, stuffing Yara’s water bottle into the bag harder than I needed to.

“If you would just use that gift of yours,” she went on, her voice catching like a thread on splintered wood, “you’d understand. You could see him comin’ too.” 

“I’m not tryin’ to see anything, Mama,” I muttered, slinging the bag over my shoulder and heading toward the front room. “I’m just trying to live.” She followed me to the living room like a shadow that wouldn’t let go, her presence thick in the air.

I placed Yara’s things by the door, then climbed the stairs quietly to my old bedroom. The door creaked the way it always had. Inside, Yara lay tangled in blankets, deep in a toddler’s dream, mouth slightly open, one chubby hand curled around her stuffed bunny. “Yara, baby,” I whispered gently, kneeling beside her. “Wake up, love. The Uber’s outside.”

She stirred, groaning softly. “Mommy, I’m still tired,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists. “I know, I know,” I said, pulling her upright. “We’ll nap when we get home, okay?” She nodded sleepily, letting me put on her little shoes and zip up her jacket. In the hallway, Mama stood watching us, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t say anything this time, just looked at me like she was memorizing the moment.

Yara gave her a hug around the knees. “I love you, Grandma. See you next week.” Mama’s face softened as she bent down to kiss her cheek. “Love you too, baby. Be good. And remember what I told you.”

“I will,” Yara said, her voice already fading with sleep again. I picked her up and carried her down the stairs. At the door, I paused long enough to give Mama a kiss on the cheek.

She didn’t say another word.

I didn’t either.

Outside, the car was already waiting, headlights cutting through the dawn fog. I climbed in with Yara curled up against me, the silence between me and my mother still hanging heavy in my chest—half love, half warning. 

By the time the car pulled up near the curb, dusk had wrapped the city in a quiet, copper-toned hush. You thanked the driver, gathered your bags, and scooped Yara—now asleep with her cheek resting on your shoulder—into your arms.

The entrance to your apartment was in the back, which meant a short walk down the cracked sidewalk, then a right turn into the narrow alley behind Annie’s. Dim light flickered from the single bulb overhead, casting long shadows on the damp pavement. You adjusted your grip on the bag, hoisted Yara a little higher on your hip, and climbed the metal stairs that always groaned beneath your weight.

The apartment wasn’t much. A one-bedroom, one-bath, 750-square-foot shoebox with peeling paint and thin walls. But the hardwood floors had character—warm and worn down in places—and the little kitchen window caught the morning sun just right. It wasn’t perfect, but it was home. It kept you and your daughter safe, and that was more than most could say.

You unlocked the door, pushed it open with your shoulder, and stepped inside. The smell of yesterday’s incense still lingered faintly in the air—sage, maybe lavender. You dropped the bags by the door and laid Yara gently on the couch. She stirred a little but didn’t wake. You brushed a curl from her forehead and whispered, “We’re home, baby.”

The place was exactly how you left it—blankets strewn over the couch, breakfast dishes still in the sink, and a few toys scattered on the floor like breadcrumbs from the morning rush. You carried Yara to the bedroom, changed her into pajamas, and tucked her into bed. She murmured something in her sleep, clutching her stuffed bunny close to her chest. You kissed her temple before turning out the light.

You went back into the main room and turned on some music—just loud enough to fill the silence. A little Erykah Badu, soft and soulful. The kind of music that makes you feel like you’re floating while your hands stay busy.

You started in the kitchen. Dishes first. You emptied the dishwasher, put up the clean plates and glasses, and loaded the sink full of the mess from earlier. The rhythm of scrubbing, rinsing, and stacking grounded you—one small task after another. You wiped the counters down, sprayed the stove, and lit a citrus candle by the sink to chase away the lingering smell of grease.

The living room came next. You folded the throw blankets, picked up Yara’s toys, and vacuumed around the rug with that little handheld vacuum you hated but couldn’t afford to replace. Everything in its place.

Finally, the bathroom—always your least favorite. You didn’t do much tonight. Just swept the floor and sprayed the sink. Enough to feel decent.

Once the place felt clean and the candle's glow flickered gently in the kitchen, you turned off the music, took a shower, and slipped into bed. The sheets were cool, the room quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator in the next room.

That’s when your mind started to wander. 

Back to how you got here.

To the gift you walked away from. To Mama’s warnings. To the man in the shadows—the one the spirits whispered about. To all the moments you’d swallowed your tears and stood tall, because crumbling wasn’t an option.

You stared up at the ceiling, the weight of the day pressing into your chest like a heavy hand. You’d made it through, just like always. But something was shifting. You could feel it—in the wind, in your bones, in the quiet spaces between your thoughts.

You turned onto your side and glanced toward Yara on the other side of the bed, where her nightlight still glowed soft and amber.

Let whatever’s coming wait until tomorrow, you thought.

And you finally closed your eyes.

Saturday morning started slow—just the way Nyx liked it.

The city outside still yawned as light crept between buildings, stretching across power lines and rusted window frames. Inside the apartment, everything was quiet except for the soft rustle of Yara flipping through her picture book and the occasional thump of tiny feet pattering from the bathroom to the couch.

Nyx stood barefoot in the kitchen, wrapped in a long robe, hair piled on top of her head. She pressed the stove knob again. Waited.

Click. Click.

Nothing.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, hands on her hips.

"That’s just disrespectful," she muttered, grabbing her phone and typing a note to herself—Call Darnell again (!!!)—before tossing it onto the counter.

Yara peered around the corner. "Mama, pancakes today?"

Nyx sighed. "We gotta go downstairs for that, baby. Stove’s playing games again."

Yara grabbed her bunny and slipped on her sneakers without complaint. Nyx got them both dressed in something decent, pulled her keys off the hook, and they made their way downstairs, the scent of smoked sausage and cinnamon already curling up the stairwell like a welcome.

The bell over the door chimed. Annie didn’t look up from the grits she was stirring. “Lemme guess. The stove?” Nyx stepped inside, Yara tugging her hand. “Dead. Again. I can’t keep feeding this child off cereal and prayer, Annie. I need real heat.”

“You need a new landlord,” Annie muttered. “I told Darnell three weeks ago to check that thing.”

“You told Darnell,” Nyx repeated, pointing to herself. “But I have to live with his half-fixin’. That’s the difference.” Annie gave her that look—the one that always said you ain’t wrong, but don’t start no mess this early—then nodded her head toward a booth. “Sit. I got sausage and sweet cornbread in the back. Let the girl eat.”

Nyx smiled down at Yara. “You hear that, baby? Annie’s spoiling you again.” Yara beamed and ran ahead to their usual seat. That’s when the door chimed again. Two men entered. The air changed.

Smoke came in first. Dressed in deep gray, with eyes that didn't scan the room—they read it. Quiet. Still. Not a man who needed to announce himself. The kind of man who made you straighten your back without realizing it. The kind of man who made you pause when your instincts stirred, and your spirit wasn’t sure if it should kneel or run.

Stacks followed, louder, lighter, full of charm. Gold ring flashing on his pinky. Laughter already rising from his chest. "Whew, Annie," he said, fanning himself like a preacher. “You still cooking with holy fire in here?”

Annie grinned. “Only thing that keeps men like you comin’ back.”

Stacks turned toward Nyx’s booth and spotted her. “Well, well, what do we have here?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden focus.

Annie chuckled. “Stacks, Smoke—this here’s Nyx. Lives upstairs. Works the counter most days.”

Stacks reached out, but Nyx stayed seated, offering only a nod. "Nice to meet you, Stacks. And… Smoke?" She looked up at him now. He didn’t smile. Didn’t nod. Just stood there.

Watching.

Like he already knew her face.

Stacks laughed. “Don’t mind him. Smoke don’t say much. He thinks in thunder but speaks in whispers.”

Smoke’s gaze didn’t waver. His arms remained crossed over his chest, but Nyx could feel his energy like a drumbeat beneath the floorboards.

She looked away first.

“So y’all the famous twins Annie always talking about?” she asked, pouring Yara some juice from the small carafe on the table.

Stacks slid into the seat across from her like they were old friends. “Famous might be generous, but yeah. We run things around here. Logistics, cleanup, favors. If something needs to be handled, we’re the ones they call.”

“Interesting,” Nyx said, slicing into Yara’s sausage. “So you’re the neighborhood problem-solvers?”

“That’s one word for it,” Annie muttered from behind the bar.

Stacks winked. “We do it all. Except breakfast. That’s Annie’s territory.”

Nyx chuckled. “Well, I’m glad someone’s working around here, because my stove is on strike again.”

Stacks leaned back. “You got a man around? Someone to look at it?”

“No man,” Nyx said flatly, without apology.

Smoke, still standing, shifted.

That single movement said more than most men said in full sentences.

Stacks raised his eyebrows. “That’s rare. You don’t give off single-mom energy.”

“Oh?” Nyx raised her brow. “What kind of energy do I give off?”

Stacks grinned. “Bossy. Beautiful. Might-cut-you-if-you-say-something-stupid type.”

Nyx smirked. “So I give off accurate energy.”

Annie snorted in the background, nearly choking on her tea.

Smoke finally moved—quietly sliding into the seat beside Stacks, still watching. He didn’t speak. Not a word. But Nyx could feel him.

The way his eyes didn’t waver.

The way his presence filled the space without crowding it.

The way his silence wrapped around him like armor.

It unnerved her. But not in a bad way.

In a way that made her nervous—for reasons she didn’t have time to name.

Stacks went on talking—about the neighborhood, about Annie’s food, about some guy who owed him money and was now washing dishes for free. Nyx smiled and laughed in all the right places, but her attention kept sliding to the quiet man across from her.

Smoke hadn’t said her name.

But he was studying her like he was trying to memorize it.

Like somewhere, deep in the folds of his spirit, he already knew it.

And as they sat in that booth—Yara quietly coloring, Annie humming in the kitchen, and Stacks telling stories—Nyx felt something pull tight inside her.

A tether.

Invisible.

Ancient.

And it was tied to the man who hadn’t said a word.

Stacks leaned over the table, eyes twinkling as he took a sip of sweet tea and pointed to Yara’s coloring page. “Now hold up—who taught you to stay inside the lines like that? That’s professional work right there.”

Yara paused mid-crayon stroke, blinking up at him. Her cheeks puffed, and she dipped her chin low like she was trying to disappear into her hoodie.

Stacks grinned wider. “Aw, don’t go shy on me now. What’s your name, baby girl?”

She looked at her mama for permission.

Nyx nodded gently. “Go ahead, love.”

Yara peeked out. “Yara,” she whispered.

Stacks put a hand to his chest like he’d just heard a secret. “Yara. That’s a beautiful name. You know what it means?”

Yara shrugged a little, still coloring.

Nyx smiled to herself. She knew what was happening. Yara rarely opened up to strangers—but Stacks had a charm that was disarming even to grown women. The man had a gift, and today he was using it to unlock a toddler.

“It means ‘small butterfly’ in Arabic,” Nyx added, brushing a curl behind her ear.

Stacks widened his eyes at Yara. “Butterfly? Now that makes sense. You look like the kind of girl who’s always flyin’ somewhere.”

Yara giggled once, soft and quick.

That was all he needed.

“Aha! I knew I’d get a laugh. I used to be a butterfly myself, you know,” he said, dramatically fluttering his fingers like wings.

Yara laughed again—this time with her whole face—and Nyx tried not to melt at the sound.

“You like to draw?” Stacks asked, tapping a blank spot on the paper.

Yara nodded.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to a pink shape.

“That’s me and Mama and my bunny. We’re going to the moon.”

“The moon?” he said, eyebrows shooting up. “Shoot, I haven’t even been outta the city this year.”

She giggled again and flipped the page to start a new one. This time, she handed him a crayon.

“Ohhh, you want me to help? I gotta warn you, I draw like a sleepy raccoon,” he said, but took the crayon anyway.

Smoke watched the exchange without a word. Just sat there, arms crossed, jaw tense, eyes unreadable.

Nyx glanced his way—curious.

She wasn’t used to men who stayed quiet around kids. Most either talked too much or ignored them altogether. But Smoke was different. Not disinterested, not cold—just… studying. Listening. Like he was trying to understandsomething.

Stacks kept chatting with Yara, filling the space with easy warmth.

“What’s your bunny’s name?” “Bunny.” “Classic.” “You wanna color the moon?” “Okay, but I think the moon should be blue today.” “It’s your moon, baby girl. Make it neon green if you want.”

Yara smiled—open now, radiant. Nyx felt her heart loosen just a little watching them. She turned to Smoke.

“You good over there, or you only speak after sunset?” she asked, teasing—but only a little. He looked at her. And for a heartbeat, it felt like he looked through her. Then he said, low and deliberate, “I speak when there’s something worth saying.” 

It wasn’t rude.

But it hit like thunder.

Nyx blinked, caught off guard—not just by the weight of his voice, but by the feeling behind it. It was like he’d been holding back something he couldn’t name.

Something watching her the way old gods watched people who lit candles without knowing why.

Stacks broke the silence, smiling wide. “Don’t mind him. He’s just mad he can’t color as good as Yara.”

Yara beamed, clearly proud.

Smoke gave a faint, nearly invisible smirk.

Nyx noticed.

It was the first break in his armor.

And for reasons she didn’t want to explore yet, she felt it settle somewhere low and slow in her chest.

The hush in Annie’s diner wasn’t empty.

It was full—with everything they weren’t saying.

Steam rose in slow curls from Annie’s chipped coffee mug. The scent of chicory, fried sage, and cornbread clung to the air. It wrapped itself around the group like a shawl, familiar and warm. Outside, the street was lazy. The sun shone but didn’t blaze, and the sidewalk shimmered soft in the stillness of the late morning.

Yara’s soft breath was the only real sound.

Nyx shifted just enough to let her daughter lay her head in her lap. She smoothed a curl away from her brow, her hand lingering longer than usual. That girl was her world, her reason, her spine. Watching her sleep with her fists unclenched—it reminded her why she worked so hard not to fall apart.

Across from her, Smoke leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move much. But his presence was dense. Grounding. Like a storm cloud that had no plans to rain—yet.

Stacks, surprisingly, had gone quiet too. He stared into the cup of coffee Annie had poured him, turning it in his hands like it held a message. The grin he usually wore had faded—not in sadness, but in realness. Like he’d taken off his performance for just a minute and let the man underneath breathe.

It felt like everyone was holding something.

And for once, nobody was trying to fix it.

Annie pulled a chair from behind the counter and joined them, sitting sideways so her knees pointed toward Nyx. “I used to dream of mornings like this,” she said softly. “Mornings where nobody needed anything. Where we could all just be.”

Nyx looked up at her. “You mean you don’t like when folks come in yelling ‘Annie, I need a plate, and my man just left me again’?”

Annie gave a dry laugh. “Honey, I’ve been everybody’s mama, therapist, and exorcist. I ain’t had time to just sit in my own skin for years.”

Stacks raised his mug. “To sitting in your own skin.”

Annie raised hers. “To finally being around people who don’t drain it.”

Nyx lifted her water glass. Smoke didn’t lift anything, but he gave a slow nod.

And Yara, half-asleep, whispered, “Cheers…”

Everyone chuckled.

That laugh settled the room like a song’s final note.

Then Nyx spoke again—quieter this time. “It’s hard, though. Being strong all the time.”

She hadn’t meant to say it.

Not out loud.

But now it was out there, hanging in the air like incense smoke.

Annie didn’t interrupt.

Neither did Stacks.

But Smoke looked at her.

And for the first time, he said her name like he’d known it longer than she’d been alive.

“Nyx.”

Just that.

Just her name.

But it landed like a blessing.

She met his eyes. There was no flirtation there. No slickness. Just something steady. Like he saw her—and wasn’t afraid of what came with that.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like she had to be guarded.

She just… was. Yara stirred again, reaching up sleepily. Nyx pulled her close, whispering, “Go back to sleep, baby.”

Stacks smiled. “She’s gonna be something else when she gets older. You better prepare.”

“She already is something else,” Nyx replied, brushing her daughter’s cheek. “Just like her grandma.”

“Your mama the real deal, huh?” he asked, eyes curious.

Nyx hesitated. “The kind of woman who talks to spirits before she brushes her teeth.”

Annie laughed. “That woman always gave me chills—but her hands? Healing. I remember once, back in—”

Before she could finish, Smoke suddenly stood up.

Not abrupt. Just… quietly certain.

Nyx looked up. “You okay?”

He nodded, but his gaze had shifted—like he’d just heard something only he could hear.

“Just needed air.”

He looked at her for a second longer, like he wanted to say something more.

Then he walked out, the bell over the door chiming softly behind him.

Stacks and Annie exchanged a glance but said nothing.

Nyx watched the door swing gently in his wake.

Something inside her stirred.

Not anxiety.

Not fear.

But familiarity.

Like the moment before lightning strikes—when the world inhales.

[emm-jayy]

~

[princessbellecerise]

Unlikely Places

Summary ✩ The unusual place your hotd lover likes to fuck you

Warnings ✩ Smut, straight up blasphemy (Aegon), semi-public sex

Jacaerys Velaryon

As the King, it’s not exactly wrong for the two of you to do it, but it does feel taboo every time you ride him on the Iron Throne

Every time you climbed on his lap, mindful of all the sharp points and swords, you couldn’t help but think that you’re breaking some kind of rule that doesn’t exist. After all, Jacaerys is the King and technically it is his seat. As the most powerful man in the realm, there’s no one for you to answer to after doing such an act but it certainly feels like you should

The first time that he asked you to do it, you thought that he was crazy. It was so unlike Jacaerys to do something so…risky, that you genuinely thought it was a prank at first

Only when realized you that your husband was completely serious did you really start to consider it

And you had to admit, the rush of power that you got as you bounced on your husband’s cock, riding the most powerful man in the most powerful seat in the realm was nothing like you’d ever experienced before

It quickly became your guilty pleasure to do so, never minding when Jacaerys summoned you to the throne room at such late hours

For you knew what awaited you when you climbed those steps, and each time you were filled with delicious anticipation to do it all over again

Aemond Targaryen

Ever since he was a child, Aemond had been absolutely fascinated by dragons

His obsession with those beasts was almost unnatural as his mother used to say, and you were quite inclined to agree as one day, Aemond tried to convince you to let him fuck you on top of Vhagar

Of course, the request had been so ridiculous that you genuinely thought your husband to be ill at first, maybe having contracted some disease during his many travels

Only when you saw Aemond’s confident smirk did you realize that it was indeed not a jest, and your husband really did want you to ride him on top of a fucking dragon

So there you were, thousands of feet in the air and praying that you didn’t fall as you straddled Aemond’s lap

You held onto him tight as your cunt sank down, your hips moving with his in the large saddle

Every kiss, every touch was concealed within the clouds, Vhagar flying steady while you rode your husband. The sound of her wings masked the pathetic way you cried for Aemond, filthy praises and words of encouragement being whispered in your ears as you soared across the skies

Aegon Targaryen

Aegon figures that if he’s going to hell anyways, he may as well have a little fun in his mortal life

What’s life without a little risk anyways, he figures. This is why he has no problem fucking you in the Sept of Seven, having you on your knees, naked in front of the statue of the Mother

Instead of praying to her though, you worship him. You praise his cock and the way it makes you feel so good—better than praying, really

The absolute trill of someone coming in and getting caught is like no other. Sometimes, Aegon even hopes that you’ll be discovered—preferably by his mother or that cunt of Septa that’s always preaching about sin and virtue

He imagines their faces as he fucks you from behind, taunting you and making you look directly at the statue when you cum around him

Aegon’s never really believed in the Gods much, but the way your cunt feels wrapped around him is heavenly

And to him, there’s truly no greater tasting sin

Daemon Targaryen

Otto Hightower had once called Daemon brazen, irresponsible, violent, arrogant, reckless and a second Maegor

He supposed that it was true, but still, Otto Hightower was a cunt in Daemon’s mind, and the Prince would do anything to get back at him

…Including fucking in his bed

In Daemon’s very weak defense, he hasn’t meant to, really

When he pulled you in a for a kiss, intending to take you quickly before he had to attend a meeting later in the day, he hadn’t been paying attention to where he pulled you

He just wanted to feel you, to touch you before he had to leave for the day

And what do you know—the place that he ends up brining you to fufill your hurried tryst was the fucking Tower of the Hand

Neither of you realize it at first, too caught up in each other to notice the amount of green, grey and white around you

It isn’t until you stumble onto the actual bed, Daemon fumbling to get your clothing off do you finally look up and you’re greeted by a portrait of Otto fucking Hightower on the walls

Alarmed, you immediately tell Daemon and it takes only a second to realize where you’ve accidentally stumbled

Of course, Daemon thinks it’s hilarious and even if you want to leave, a little creeped out at the thought of being fucked on the same sheets the Hand of the King sleeps on, Daemon is entirely too thrilled to leave

Once the idea is in his brain, it won’t be going any time soon

A mischievous grin grows on your lover’s face, and somehow, Dameon convinces you to let him take on Otto’s clean, perfectly folded sheets, loving the way you mess them up with your messy fucking

Of course, he’ll just blame the servants for all the mess, but now every time he faces Otto there’s always a knowing smirk on Daemon’s face, smug that the Hand will never know the dirty things said and done on the very mattress he sleeps on

Cregan Stark

Cregan was the Lord of Winterfell, and because of that he was allowed to eat where he pleased, train where he pleased…and fuck where he pleased

It was this that he reminded you of as he took you in one of the hot springs the castle had to offer, water splashing as your husband’s hips thrust into yours

He had you on his lap, your tits pressed against his warm wet chest as you bounced on his cock

The both of you were well aware that this was a public place and that anyone could stumble upon you, but that only spurred you on more

Honestly, seeing your honorable and kind husband act so reckless was a turn on in itself, loving the way Cregan grunted and didn’t care who heard him

He was lost in the feel of your cunt and the warm water which only added to the sensations

Add that to the trill of getting caught, and neither of you really lasted long when you fucked in the springs

Still panting and filled with your husband’s seed, you grinned as you ran a hand through his tangled hair

“Another day without being caught,” You said, slightly disappointed

Cregan shrugged. “Well, maybe we’ll succeed next time.”

Benjicot Blackwood

“Ben, not here! Someone could see us!”

“Then let them see. Let those Bracken cunts see how a real man pleases his Lady wife,” Benji whispered, and you couldn’t even deny that fucking right on the Blackwood-Bracken boundary line didn’t bring a kind of fire to your veins that you craved

Your lover had always been more shy and sweet than anything else, but you knew just how deep his hatred for the Brackens ran when he threw all of that away and fucked you so close to their territory

Deep, satisfactory moans left his lips as he rutted into you, the thrill of getting caught edging you both on like no other

You pressed against Benji, panting as his cock drove in out of you and hit your sweet spots over and over

All you could think about, all you craved was cumming around your husband’s cock while his enemies watched; and you did

Benji was beyond proud of himself as you moaned and let the entirety of House Bracken know what was happening. Let them know how good he was making you feel

He felt bad for the wives of those smug cunts as surely they’d never know such pleasure, but at least Benji knew that you couldn’t relate

The Brackens could say whatever they wanted about his family, but at least the Blackwoods knew how to fuck

And who knows, if they were watching, then maybe they’d even learn a thing or two from Benji

tags 🏷️

@alyssa-dayne

[jaylaxies]

YOURS (MAYBE?) | part I

PAIRING: jake x fem!reader x jay

GENRE: enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, smut, fluff, humour, angst, cunnilingus, fingering, choking, blowjob, squirting, multiple orgasms, cum in vag, praises, degradation, double penetration in one hole, threesome, lots of kissing, slight body worship, aftercare, mentions of nicknames, mentions of food, lmk if i missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 16.9k out of 34.2k words!

SYNOPSIs: Your best friend’s wedding was supposed to be the well-earned vacation you’d been dreaming of, the perfect escape and much needed breather. Instead, you’re stuck sharing a room with your ex-rival, and the previously quiet, enigmatic boy from university, both seemingly perfectly poised to turn this trip into a carefully orchestrated plan to woo you. Alternatively: Challengers, but your playground isn’t a tennis court, it is the bedroom which you share with Jay and Jake.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni.

PART TWO: here.

A/N: hihi loves <3 sorry for the delay but the fic is finally here! gosh, this is the longest fic i have ever written, i hope you guys will enjoy it! all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

Chapter 1: The boy I forgot Vs. The boy I can’t. 

Being late to your best friend’s wedding trip was the lowest you could have sunk down, and you did. 

Well, granted, it was courtesy of your work which never gave you holidays, but alas, you managed to get a week off, now rushing out of the airport with your two heavy luggage bags, not to mention the backpack and purse you managed to carry along, trying to spot the bride, Karina, who still proceeded to pick you up in the midst of all the wedding preparation chaos. 

She launches herself at you even before you had the time to react, engulfing you in a hug so tight as if you hadn’t met her over dinner just the week prior. 

“You’re so fucking late,” she screamed, shaking you as you finally elicited a laugh, waving back at her fiancé, Jeno, who was smiling like a puppy seeing his fiancée so joyous. 

“Blame my boss, he fucking made me work overtime to the point I had to cancel my flight and take the ticket for the next one,” you groaned, letting the couple help you with your luggage and share everything you’ve missed so far—which somehow didn’t include the room assortment, yet. 

Karina chats your ear off the entire ride to the Airbnb villa booked especially for the friends, other families and guests having different villas all to themselves, her voice practically vibrating with sheer excitement, but it’s not until the car takes a sharp turn into a winding hill that your stomach twists with something else—anticipation.

“You’ll love the place,” she says, “and the people—well, mostly.”

You shoot her a look. “Mostly? You let me take care of everything, from helping with your wedding dress to finalizing the flowers and arrangements, but didn’t let me take a single look at the guest list, should I be worried?” 

“Let’s just say, there are a few strong personalities. You’ll see.”

You narrow your eyes but let it slide, muttering, “yeah I’m worried.” She’s already looking smug, and you had a bad feeling about it now that your car neared the villa for the next few days, and you did have a slight hint about what was to come, to which you simply prayed for it to be wrong. 

It was something straight out of a pinterest board, cream coloured walls, string lights adorning it, the faint scent of gardenia drifting through the slight breeze, cooling down the otherwise warm atmosphere. You’re still staring at the view as you get another hug attack from Winter, who was more than excited to see you after the few weeks you spent away, because you still met up after subsequently completing the university. 

A small genuine smile graced your face as you started catching up, “god—wait. I need Karina to finalize the aisle placements, I’m sorry, Y/N, we’ll be back in a second.” She says, rushing away, seeming more bothered than the bride to be herself, who was enjoying every second of it. 

You weren’t sure what you expected when you stepped into the villa, but it definitely wasn’t this.

The place looked like something out of a design magazine—open plan with warm wooden floors, arched doorways, and morning light spilling across the ceilings. Plants dangled beautifully from the pots, and a soft ocean breeze danced through linen curtains like the house was exhaling out elegance.

It was like a perfect Pinterest wedding destination, almost like a spot where people would fall in love seamlessly. 

Unfortunately, you were not here for love.

You were here for Karina’s wedding, and most importantly, you were especially not here to run into—

“Well, if it isn’t the prodigy herself.”

That voice—you froze mid-step, every muscle in your spine stiffening like instinct. No. Absolutely not, that could not be him, could he? 

You turned slowly, already preparing your sigh, and found yourself face to face with none other than Park Jongseong. 

Great.

Same perfect posture, same cocky half-smile. Tall, annoyingly handsome, and dressed like the poster boy for a casual rich man at a coastal wedding—open shirt, silver chain, jaw sharp enough to cut glass, eyes dark enough to drown someone, and his heart shaped birthmark on the neck still standing out. 

Jay.

Your academic nemesis, your eternal debate partner. The guy who turned every university presentation into a showdown and somehow made you want to win even harder, the guy you swore you hated all three years of your undergrad uni. 

You hadn’t seen him since graduation. You’d hoped that would be the end of it, but of fucking course, fate hated you.

“Well, I see you’re still as stiff as ever,” you said, looking bored, hoisting your backpack bag higher on your shoulder, “still studying like a madman, huh?”

Jay gave a lazy smile, eyes flicking over you with the practiced indifference of someone used to winning, his eyes still wandering around your figure before he clicked his tongue, “you’re late.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, already irritated, “I’m fashionably late, there’s a difference, you wouldn’t understand, of fucking course.” You said, pointing at your amazing airport fit. 

“I’m sure there’s a spreadsheet in your bag that proves that, you always came over prepared anyway.”

You opened your mouth to deliver a killer comeback—and were immediately interrupted by another voice.

“Woah—woah, I’ve only been here ten minutes and there’s already fights unleashing, huh?”

You turned again, this time finding yourself staring into a face you hadn’t expected at all.

Jake.

Sim Jaeyun, you recognized him immediately—your old batchmate, the quiet one from your year, you remembered him as soft spoken, always with a shy smile, never really one to speak unless called on, only if you omit out recalling that one night when he did talk to you, just one night. 

Except now—now he stood beside Jay, lean and sun-kissed, wearing a faded tee that clung just right and black sweatpants that made him look nothing like the awkward boy you remembered. There was a warmth in his eyes, sure—but also something new, a flicker of playfulness, of newfound confidence.

His hair fluffier than ever, lips still pouty but in a teasing manner, and his aura now strong and warm, as if he had a halo around his head. 

“Jake?” you said, unsure, but you did remember him, not just the newly transformed version of him.

His grin was unnaturally attractive as he replied, “you remember.”

Barely, you thought, but said instead, “wow, you were—uh quiet.”

Jake chuckled, and the sound was different than you remembered too, richer, more teasing, accent evident in his voice, “yeah. Not so much anymore, I guess.”

Jay scoffed from beside him, “he still is when he loses. Don’t let him fool you.”

Jake rolled his eyes, “ignore him. He gets cranky when he’s not the smartest in the room, Mr. Know it all.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Is that why he always sulked during academic week?”

Jay turned to you with a sarcastic smile. “You were the one who stole my thesis idea in senior year.”

“I didn’t steal it, I simply executed it better.”

“Debatable.”

“Oh my god,” Jake said with a laugh, looking between the two of you, “this is amazing. It’s like watching the academic war off, but, well, this is actually interesting.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, but you quickly caught yourself. No, absolutely no humanizing your rival, not when he was right in front of you. 

Jay leaned against the entryway wall, clearly amused, “didn’t expect to see you here, honestly.”

“I’m Karina’s best friend,” you replied with an eye roll as if he was dumb, “of course I’m here.”

Jay’s expression didn’t shift, but something in his gaze sharpened slightly. “Right. Makes sense.”

Jake tilted his head as if he didn’t know, “you and Karina were close in uni?”

“We roomed together all four years,” you said, lips curving, “she’s like my sister.”

Jay gave a half, sarcastic smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “hm, that does explain the pity invite.”

You scoffed as you stepped closer, gaze daring, “are you always this good at projecting?”

“I’m always this good at reading people.”

“Then read this and stay away,” you said sweetly, flipping him off.

Jake blinked, then burst out laughing, leaning forward like the moment was a personal win, genuinely amused, “I’m sorry, that was iconic, never gets old.”

Jay shrugged, shaking his head at you, “she always had a flair for the dramatics, I wonder why she didn’t join the drama society.”

“You’re one to talk,” you muttered, but before Jay could respond, the front door opened again and Isa rushed in, grinning.

“There you are!” She said, grabbing your arm. “Come on, Karina’s doing the room assignments!”

You let yourself be dragged back inside, throwing one last glance at the boys—Jay smirking like he’d already won something, and Jake watching you with a curiosity that sent a shiver up your spine.

Room assignments, right. You could handle that, or so you thought. 

The rest of the house was gathered in the living room, lounging on floor cushions and sipping iced drinks and vodka? Well, afternoon drinking is fun, meanwhile, Karina stood in the center, a clipboard in hand and a wicked glint in her eye, that was reserved for you, apparently.

“Okay,” she announced. “Here’s how it’s going to work. We’ve got three rooms for guests. Each one has its own fun layout.”

You narrowed your eyes. That tone was never good, not when she used it looking your way, and you simply hoped that your gut feeling wasn’t right this once. 

“Room One, Isa, Winter, Yunjin.”

The girls high-fived and squealed, already plotting aesthetic corners and matching pajamas, and you stood there, knowing what was to happen when you weren’t put up with the girls. 

“Room Two, Yeonjun, Heeseung, Beomgyu, Jaemin, and Hyuck.”

Someone groaned in the back, definitely Hyuck, “why do we get the bunk beds?”

Karina grinned, “because you snore, Hyuck.”

Then she paused, flipping the page. “Room three—hm, this one’s interesting.”

Your stomach dropped when it was finally the time to say it out loud. 

“No,” you said immediately, “whatever it is you’re about to say, no.”

Karina ignored you, “room three has one double bed and one single, and it goes to—Y/N, Jay, and Jake.”

Silence.

Then the crowd erupted into laughter, Beomgyu complaining about how it should be him with you instead, meanwhile, the girls wondering who’s gonna make it out of the room alive, because with that pairing, someone was bound to murder the other.

“You’re fucking kidding,” you whispered, horrified, already reaching out to Karina who was on the verge of running away, laughing hard at your expressions, “what? No. Are you serious?”

Jay looked up from his drink with mock surprise, as if Jeno had already told him what was to happen, “Huh? That’s unfortunate.”

Jake’s eyes went wide, almost comical, “wait—what? All three of us?” He asked, pointing at himself. 

Karina nodded, grinning too wide, still rushing around trying to not get caught by you, “unless someone wants to sleep on the couch?” She asked, chuckling as she hid behind Jeno for shield. 

“I’ll sleep in the ocean,” you said flatly, moving back now that you knew Karina was safe and hiding behind a tall, muscular man. 

Jake scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I don’t mind the single bed—unless you want to share.”

Jay choked, not expecting that kind of reaction from Jake, “she’d rather sleep with a thesis on stem cell regeneration.”

“Oh my god, this can’t be happening,” you muttered.

Karina clapped her hands. “Settled! Take your bags upstairs. Good luck.”

You stood frozen as the group dissolved into laughter and chatter, your fate sealed, this trip was going to kill you.

And it hadn’t even begun yet.

Chapter 2: Drunk on you, I lose control. 

The moment you walk up the stairs to your room, it’s chaos. Jake brushes past you, grabbing your suitcase with a grin, “relax, I’ve got it,” he says smoothly, his fingers brushing yours just a second longer than necessary.

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your stomach does a stupid little flip at the change in his personality, the confidence he oozes so easily now, “you know I can handle a bag, right?”

“Sure you can,” Jake says, smirking as he sets it neatly by the wall, “but why would I pass up the chance to be your hero tonight? I’m a gentleman, y’know?”

He takes your bag so easily, muscles flexing under the T-shirt he wore, it was evident that he worked out. 

Before you can fire back, Jay’s voice cuts through the room, smooth and sharp, “wow. You’re laying it on thick, aren’t you?”

You turn to find Jay stretched out on the double bed like he owns it, arms folded behind his head, a lazy grin pulling at his mouth. His dark eyes track you, sharp and amused at the sudden display of Jake’s chivalry. 

“Don’t you have anyone else to annoy, Jay?” You snap.

“Nope,” he says easily with a smirk, “you know you’re my favourite.”

You clench your jaw, grab your clothes, and storm toward the bathroom, not having it in you to stay in the same room as Jay by any means.

Behind you, you hear Jake’s low chuckle, “easy, man.”

“I’m not the one overstepping,” Jay murmurs, and you slam the door shut before you hear the rest.

The second you enter the bathroom, you let out a long breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. You were here for a wedding, sharing a bedroom with two guys. Could this truly get any worse? 

You thought a long, hot shower would make you feel better, but it didn’t, because the moment you stepped out in your shorts, you could feel the tension in the room thickening. Jake’s sitting on the single bed, scrolling through his phone, but his eyes flick up the moment you appear, his eyes now fixated on you. 

“Hey,” he says softly, “you sure you don’t want the double?”

“I’m good.” You toss your things onto the narrow mattress and meet his eyes, “but thanks, enjoy sleeping together boys.” You threw them a look of mischief. 

Jay’s voice reverberated across the room, “damn, aren’t you polite.”

You whip your head toward him, sharp. “You want polite, Jay? Try giving me the damn bed, or actually, the whole room, and leave.”

“Not my fault you came in late, y’know?” Jay says, smiling like it’s the easiest thing in the world, “you snooze, you lose, baby.”

“Don’t you dare call me—” before you could throw something at him, Jake’s up, slinging an arm briefly around your shoulder. 

“Come on,” he murmurs close to your ear, too close, enough for you to feel his warmth and scent, “save the murder plot for later, I’m pretty sure you’ll get your chance, I’ll even help, hm?”

And you stepped back, gulping and cursing yourself for getting into this mess, leaving the boys to themselves now. 

The villa was alive with noise, soft music bouncing off the walls as your friends’ laughter echoed down the hall by the time you were done taking a tour of the whole place, Heeseung and Jaemin guiding you through it along with Isa. 

Only for everyone to gather in the main living room area for drinks and games, just like the old times, they said. 

You sat cross-legged on the floor, wedged between Jake and Karina, “I swear you’re the most evil person alive,” you mumbled as the girl only laughed at you.

“Hey! I’m only doing what’s the best for you!”

“And that involves me being in a room with two insufferable men?” You deadpanned, glad that Jake was occupied in a conversation with Hyuck, keeping him away from hearing your words. 

“By keeping you near the men who’ll probably make sure all your frustration will be gone by the time the wedding is over,” she smirked and you only shook your head with an expression that screamed ‘save me’.

Jay lounged warmly with his back against the couch, fingers tapping mindlessly against his glass as his eyes were sharp and unreadable every time Jake leaned a little too close—which he did a bit too often. 

Jake was fast, a little too fast when it came to occupying any space near you, practically running to sit down next to you, leaving Jay to sit right in front of you, across the table. 

“Truth and Dare, let’s fucking go!” Beomgyu screamed, and so did everyone else, while a few groans could be heard too. 

“What are we, kids?” You asked with a chuckle.

“No, but we can make some?” Gyu said, wiggling his eyebrows and you shook your head. 

“Hard pass,” you replied, eyes flicking up to Jake, who looked visibly annoyed. 

“C’mon, Y/N, let’s play at least,” Gyu said, “trust me it’ll be fun.”

You shrugged, nodding alongside as you found no point in arguing with them, urging him to start the game as everyone sat down in a circle, your eyes wandering around, settling on the two of your roommates every few minutes. 

The bottle spun, wobbling dangerously before landing on you. That’s just how your luck was.

“Oh, this’ll be good,” Isa giggled softly. 

Beomgyu smirked, “Y/N, truth or dare?”

You narrowed your eyes, not thinking much before you said, “dare.”

Without missing a beat, he leaned forward, voice laced with mischief, “then, I dare you to sit on my lap for two minutes.”

The room practically exploded at that—whistles, shouts, Karina gasping and swatting at Jeno’s arm as he laughed, “oh i’m having the time of my life,” she said, trying her best not to laugh at your face. 

You shot Beomgyu a sharp look, “you’re a menace, I swear.”

“I know,” he grinned, arms wide in mock innocence, “you don’t wanna make babies so.” He dragged with a smile. 

With an exaggerated sigh, you moved toward him, settling lightly on his lap. His hands flew up in surrender, but his smirk didn’t fade, hands now wrapped around your waist to help you sit comfortably. 

Jake stiffened watching the whole scene unfold, his grin tightening just at the edges. Across the circle, Jay’s fingers curled slightly against his glass, knuckles whitening as his gaze locked on you.

Two minutes never felt so long, even more so when Gyu couldn’t stop with his flirty remarks every few seconds, yelping when you pinched his arm. 

The timer beeped on Isa’s phone, and you slid off Beomgyu’s lap with a triumphant smile, a sigh of relief as you sat back down in your place, “finally survived that.”

“Barely,” Jake muttered, low enough for only you to hear.

A few spins later, Isa’s grin turned sly as you turned out to be the victim of this game again, a huff leaving your mouth as you took another shot of tequila rose, you’d definitely need it. “Y/N—seven minutes in heaven, and we choose the guy.” 

You groaned, “you people are beyond evil.”

“Democracy, baby!” Beomgyu cheered, arms thrown wide, “I vote for me!”

“Jay,” Winter declared, biting back a grin, “obviously, the soul tied rivals.”

Your eyes shot up to look at him, only to find his intense stare fixated on you already. 

“Oh yes!”

“I agree, Jay for me too.”

“Damn, this will be fun,” everyone kept on agreeing and you only looked at Karina with a glare of accusation, as if she was the reason why this was happening. Which is partly true. 

Jake shot upright, “hold on—I have to vote too.”

“Rules are rules, majority already voted for Jay and Y/N!” Isa sang, practically pushing you toward the hallway closet.

The door clicked shut behind you, plunging you and Jay into dim silence. 

He broke the silence after two minutes of absolutely nothing but the sound of your breathing, “scared?” He challenged. 

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed tight, “oh fuck no, don’t get any wrong ideas.”

Jay leaned casually against the opposite wall, one brow lifting, “please. As if I’d do anything with you.”

You scoffed, “you’d combust before making the first move, never had the balls to do anything but study anyway.”

“How do you know that, huh?” He pushed off the wall, taking a single step forward, “you’re all talk, you know that? Acting as if you know me when you’re no better.”

Your heart jumped as his tone got an octave deeper, but you tried not to look fazed, “yeah? And you’re all ego, challenging me when you clearly always lose.”

Jay’s mouth curved, just slightly—the kind of smile that was all sharp edges, something he reserved only for you. A lot of things had changed over the years, but not his attitude. 

He closed the space between you slowly, the air thickening, your breath catching in your throat as he caged you between his arms, hand resting near your shoulder on the wall—not touching you, but just close enough to make your skin feel his presence.

“Flustered yet?” he murmured, voice low and demanding.

“Not even close,” you shot back, but your heartbeat said otherwise. How could you not be immune to anyone who comes this close to you, to the point the scent of their perfume invades your senses?

His gaze flicked over your face, lingering at your mouth for a breath too long—and before either of you could break, the door banged open.

“Time—oh wait, are you guys kissing?” Hyuck’s voice rang through, laughter spilling into the room, with a few screams of questions. 

You practically stumbled out, cheeks blazing as you smacked Hyuck on his shoulder, him fake crying on the ground, “nothing like that will ever happen, you idiot.”

“You sure about that?” Jay whispered casually, before walking ahead, his cool mask firmly back in place. Jake’s eyes tracked you across the room, jaw tight, his hand gripping his drink just a little too hard.

The bottle spun again as you settled in your place, and you prayed to stay out of the game by now, you couldn’t handle it no more.  

“Jake,” Jaemin grinned, “truth or dare?”

Jake flashed a lazy grin, “dare.”

“Give Y/N a kiss—cheek only though, she’s feisty when you get too close.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the fate wasn’t with you today by any means 

Jake’s head tilted, a spark lighting in his eyes, “uh-huh, gladly.”

He leaned in smoothly, slender fingers brushing your jaw as his plush lips pressed a warm, slow kiss to your cheek, your eyes closing at the warmth of his breath, the kiss lingering just long enough that your own breath hitched.

The room turned feral again, Karina happier than ever as she clapped at the little show of affection.

You swallowed hard, caught between a smirk and a flustered laugh, “you guys won’t let me live, will you?” 

When you glanced up, Jay’s gaze was razor-sharp, his posture rigid, his glass held a little too tight in his hand as he drank the whiskey in one go, dramatically so. 

By the time the game spiraled into chaotic karaoke battles and empty bottles, you slipped away upstairs, heart pounding like it hadn’t settled all night.

Karina cracked her door open, grinning. “Y/N—what the hell’s going on down there?”

You collapsed onto her bed with a dramatic groan, “our friends are out of control.”

Karina tugged you into her room, half laughing at your unenthusiastic state, “spill.”

You buried your face in her pillow. “Beomgyu dared me into his lap, I spent seven minutes in a closet with Jay bickering the entire fucking time, oh god that asshole, will he ever change? And then Jake kissed me on the cheek like he meant it, like I didn’t even remember the guy up till today, kinda? And now he’s hellbent on making his presence known?”

Karina wheezed, clutching her stomach, “oh, you are so in trouble.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“It’s for your own good, maybe if one of them fucks you good enough—”

You groaned louder, “I want to disappear.”

She smirked, “you’re glowing, by the way, gonna have the best sleep with the boys?”

“Shut up—shut up,” you mumbled again and again, dreading to walk into the room with those two again. 

When you finally dragged yourself to the shared room, Jake was sprawled across one double bed, shirt off, hair a stylish mess, eyes gleaming when he saw you.

“Single’s all yours, princess,” he murmured, voice low and teasing. 

You shook your head at the nickname, which only made him smile wider. 

Jay sat on the other bed, scrolling through his phone, but his gaze flicked up sharply as you entered, as if your presence was too strong for him to ignore. 

You collapsed onto the narrow single mattress, pulling the soft blanket over your face, “I don’t want to hear a single word now, go to sleep.”

Jake laughed softly, turning onto his side, eyes glinting in the dim light, making his face glow while Jay shook his head faintly, but the tension hummed in the room like a live wire waiting to cause trouble, wrapping around the three of you.

And as you drifted off, one thought pounded through your head, keeping your body nervous as you realized. 

You are absolutely, completely doomed.

Chapter 3: Come right on me, I mean camaraderie. 

You didn’t have the best relationship with sunlight, especially when you were tired and well, low-key hungover. The curtains did nothing to stop the streaming rays of the sun, lighting up the room in hues of gold. The single bed wasn’t comfortable per se, but at least you weren’t sharing it with one of those—you froze, thoughts screeching to a halt. 

You had turned around to find the two boys, shirtless might you just add, wrapped around each other in perfect yaoi proportions, almost like they were cuddling, a small smile on Jake’s face made the whole ordeal even more amusing. 

Oh, this would be a solid picture to use for blackmailing the two. 

Jay, who slept like a pretentious vampire—back straight, one arm draped over his forehead—was somehow curled toward Jake, his face half-buried in the pillow. Jake, meanwhile, had an arm slung carelessly over Jay’s torso, his fingers gripping his waist. Their legs were a mess of tangled sheets, and Jake’s knee was nudged against Jay’s thigh like they’d fought for space and called a truce in their sleep. 

It’s unnatural how perfectly sculpted their bodies are, which does irritate you, because why do your dorky uni batchmates now have abs and a strong v-line? You shake your head, focusing on the main task again, watching their sun kissed faces sleeping peacefully.  

You bit your bottom lip, stifling your laugh as you reached out for your phone, trying to capture the best piece of blackmail material ever, tiptoeing a bit closer so you were on the edge of the bed, a smirk on your face as you angle your camera towards the crime scene, the soft sound of clicking pictures was heard as you did so, but that’s exactly when Jake shifts. 

Shit. 

Your breath hitches as his lashes flutter, and you freeze, half crouched, phone in hand, wide eyed like a deer caught mid hunting as his gaze landed on you. You expected confusion, embarrassment or maybe even a look of horror on his face. 

However, instead, his lips curl into a sleepy, lopsided grin, the one which made him look like a pretty boy, “good morning, stalker.”

You open your mouth, “I—” 

You start to move back, fumbling for a response as your brain stops working for a solid second, but he suddenly reaches out—quick despite just waking up, and tugs you forward by the wrist.

You yelp, your balance tipping as you fall onto the bed. Right on top of him, chest to chest.

Jake groans as you land, but it’s not from pain, it’s the smug kind, the kind that means mischief, that just ensures how much he’s enjoying his morning. His arms wrap loosely around your waist, trapping you as he props his head on the pillow, completely unbothered.

“Was I dreaming,” he murmurs, “or did you just sneak over to take pictures of me sleeping, shirtless might I just add?”

“You were practically spooning with Jay,” you hiss, struggling to push yourself up, but his grip only tightens as you squirm around to get up, “I had to document the evidence.”

He chuckles, sleep still thick in his voice. “So I’m photogenic, even unconscious huh? Good to know.”

“Jake, let me go,” you mumble, face heating up from both proximity and the fact that he is completely shirtless and warm, holding you like you’re the most comfortable plushie he owns.

“Didn’t know you were a perv, sweetheart.”

Jake had been shy back in university, barely looked at you even though you shared lectures. You remember his quiet smiles from across the room, the way he’d always seem to vanish when you turned to speak. But this Jake? This version has an attitude in his smirk, confidence in the way he’s comfortably holding you against him like you belong there, though you didn’t miss the faint red that painted his ears. 

“Fuck—no. I’m not!” 

“You always this much of a menace in the morning?” he murmurs.

You glare at him, “you don’t remember how shy you were back in college, do you?”

“Hm, maybe I do. Maybe I remember everything. Like how you used to wear that oversized navy hoodie during finals week, and bounced your leg when you were nervous.”

You blink, not expecting such a response, especially when he’s this close, too close to you. 

“You’re the one who used to stalk huh, not talk.”

“I was terrified of you,” he admits, almost fondly, “but you were hot, so it balanced out.”

“Still terrified?” You ask, raising a brow at his utter truthfulness. 

“Terrified,” he answers in a beat, then leans in, “but not enough to let you go.”

And now Jay groans slowly, making you both freeze, and you try to move again.

You push at Jake’s chest, only for him to laugh under his breath and shift his grip. His bare skin is warm under your palms, and you realize, way too late, that he’s still holding you down, your knees are tangled with the blanket, your face far too close to his.

Jay shifts around lazily, not expecting the view of you being on top of Jake the first thing in the morning, “wow,” he scoffed, voice deeper than ever, “am I interrupting something?” 

Jay’s awake now and not even mildly amused. Propped up on one elbow, his dark eyes locked on you two, your body sprawled over Jake’s, your hands resting against his chest. 

His gaze flicks to Jake’s arm still wrapped around your waist, then to your phone, still clutched in your fingers, then back to your face.

“Good morning to you too,” Jake mutters.

Jay doesn’t respond, instead, he holds out a hand, “phone, now.”

You shake your head, trying to push off Jake again, “Oh—no fucking way, It’s not what—”

“I said give me your phone.”

“Jay—”

He grabs it from your hand before you can blink or say more. 

“God—no!”

He scrolls, his face doesn’t show emotions  at first—but you see the twitch in his jaw when the first image appears.

He raises his brows, “really? Seven pictures?”

Jake chuckles, “she’s got an eye for detail, or maybe just me.”

“You were cuddling,” you exasperated defensively.

“You’re on top of him.” Jay says, eyes dark as if no sleep was left in them anymore. 

“Because he—”

Before you can finish, Jake’s hand finds your waist again and tugs you back down—just enough for you to lose your balance and land squarely on his chest again.

“Jake, I swear I’ll kill you if you don’t let go.”

“What?” He says innocently, “ I’m helping you be comfortable.”

“You’re not!”

Jay’s hand suddenly curls around your upper arm and pulls you back toward him, prying you off Jake like you’re the rope in a damn game of tug-of-war.

“She doesn’t need your help.”

Jake narrows his eyes, “and you think she needs yours?”

Jay’s arm tightens around your waist as he pulls you into his side, your head spinning with whatever these testosterone filled assholes were up to, not making it easy for you to leave, which only made your heart beat faster. 

“She needs someone who isn’t playing every side.”

Jake sits up now, a lazy smirk on his face, “uh-huh, says the guy who flirts just to win arguments.”

“I don’t need to flirt,” Jay says coolly, “she already knows I win regardless.”

You scoff at his lie, “excuse me? You do not—“

Jay glances at you, lip twitching up, “see? So full of passion.”

Jake pulls you back toward him chuckling, “you’re delusional.”

You’re officially sandwiched between them now—Jake on one side, Jay on the other, both shirtless, smug, and insufferable. Their legs brush yours, their hands still on you, and neither seems interested in letting go.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter, squirming. “Let me go—”

“Not until you tell me which picture’s your favorite,” Jay says, holding your phone out.

“I hate you.” You glare at them both, trying to break free, but their combined grip keeps you pinned.

Right then, the door swings open to reveal Karina stepping inside, definitely not expecting the sight she had in front of her, making her stop dead in her tracks, eyes wide, mouth parted. 

Her gaze scans the three of you, you caught between two shirtless men, tangled in sheets, your face full of irritation, or was it embarrassment? Both boys looked far too entertained.

Karina raises a single brow, “I knew this would happen but not this quick, oops, anyway, I’ll let you guys continue whatever this is.” She says, pointing her perfectly manicured finger your way.

The door shuts again, followed by complete and utter silence, which is how you finally manage to tear yourself free and bolt up from the bed.

“Oh my god—Karina!” You groan, giving both of the boys a look which clearly said you’re dead, before you took your fresh clothes and rushed into the bathroom, in dire need of cooling yourself down.

Back in the room, Jake and Jay sit in silence. Then Jake tosses a pillow toward Jay.

“You couldn’t give her two minutes without starting something?”

Jay catches it easily, “funny. I was about to say the same to you.”

Jake glares at the door you just disappeared through, “you think she likes the attention?”

“From you? Of course not,” Jay chuckled. 

Jake leans back on his palms, “yeah? We’ll see.”

Jay meets his gaze.

Challenge accepted.

Just the slow, silent ignition of a rivalry neither of them plans to lose.

Chapter 4: Common effects of deprivation.  

You had rushed out to see Karina post your quick shower, only to find her at the other Villa, with her family. They all were always kind to you, which is why you spent an hour there, talking to everyone and making sure to clarify what exactly went down in the morning to your best friend. 

“Fine, but it doesn’t really change the fact that they both want you.” She shrugged, and you sighed. 

“Jay hates me and Jake flirts with everyone,” you deadpanned. 

“Has Jay ever done anything to harm you?” She cocked her brow. 

“Literally always—”

“Not academically,” she clarified and you shut up in an instant, “also, have you seen Jake flirt with anyone else but you since you arrived?” 

“Uh,” you tried to think, only to see Karina sitting with a smirk because she knew she was right, “wow, this is annoying,” you mumbled, gulping and looking elsewhere. 

“Well, if you do need an escape, I have a task for you and Minjeong,” Karina said, “I need to pick up the necklace set I ordered so you can take a break and go out to get it, plus it’ll give you some time away from the boys, besides, Winter is dying to get the gossip from you.”

You chuckled, “Sure, but I still hate you for doing this to me,” you mumbled, hugging the laughing girl. 

“You’ll thank me later, trust me,” she said, only encouraging you to play with those two devils, “you’ll have the upper hand just, trust me,” she said again. 

That’s how you found yourself hand in hand with Winter, rushing out of the Villa making sure no one else notices your absence. You laughed when she opted for the golf car to make your exit quicker. 

The town was beautiful, especially the narrow boutiques near the coastline, where you juggled the bags on your arms after grabbing the necklace set for Karina, making sure to get her yet another set as a gift from you both. 

“So, why was Jake stretching—oops, flexing extra hard during breakfast? And Jay? Acting unbothered but adjusting his shirt every few seconds as if doing an advertisement for Dolce & Gabbana? Which he actually can if I’m being honest.”

You burst out laughing at her statements, “they’re annoying,” you grumbled right after, grabbing your coffee and sitting next to Winter, “I’m actually not sure what’s happening, It’s been one day, like? One! What is going on?”

“They’re fighting for your attention, babe. Jay is not used to sharing it, y’know? Meanwhile, Jake is pushing his luck as best he can, you’re practically being used as a tug of war rope from what i’ve heard happened in the morning.” She smirked, as if asking you to choose one. 

“That’s absurd if you ask me,” you said and her smile only widened once she checked her phone as Yunjin and Isa gave her live updates of how the boys were practically crashing out, “oh this is like, olympics level male stupidity if you ask me.” 

You slumped a little. “Jay always acted like he couldn’t stand me back in uni. And Jake, he used to blush if anyone looked at him for longer than three seconds. What am I supposed to do with this version of them?”

“You, my dear, are the rope in the world’s slowest and sexiest game of tug of war. I mean, I heard what happened this morning. Two men holding you down on a bed? That’s fanfiction material.”

You groaned, “It wasn’t like that! Jake woke up and pulled me onto him. Then Jay got all weird and—ugh. Then Karina walked in.”

“Yeah, so—fanfic.”

Meanwhile, back at the villa, Jake was pacing around wondering if you were actually mad because of what he did earlier in the morning, is that why you left? Where did you go? When will you come back? Did you get kidnapped?

Jay on the other hand, had read the same page of the book about sixteen times now, not being able to comprehend anything, which only irritated him further. 

You got scared as Minjeong laughed, “Oh my god. Yunjin just sent me a picture of Jay reading his book upside down!”

“You’re lying,” you said.

 Jay? The smart guy Jay who doesn’t let anyone or anything falter him? That Jay? 

She turned the phone to you.

Sure enough—Jay, perched on the edge of a sun lounger, sunglasses on, brows furrowed like he was deep in thought, while holding the book completely the wrong way.

You almost snorted, “looks tragic, is he okay?”

“Clearly, not.” She said, sipping her drink, “honestly, i’d be more concerned if he was okay, also Jake is competing with everyone in the house, doing burpees? Gosh, he needs you to come back stat.”

“This feels illegal for some reason.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said with a grin, “but also—no, wait—definitely flatter yourself. You’ve got the academic heartthrob reading books upside down, and the once shy Jake out here trying to impress you with shoulder definition and burpees.”

You groaned, but it turned into a laugh halfway through. “Okay, but be honest now, does this make me a bad person?”

Winter stopped walking and gave you a look, “no. It makes you someone who’s getting attention from two ridiculously attractive men. You’re not playing with them, when you clearly should. You have the upper hand here, even if you think otherwise. Just follow my lead to survive now.”

You sighed dramatically. “Survive, yeah.”

“Exactly.” She looped her arm with yours, “test them, just test them enough to see if they react, you’ll get your answer then if you don’t believe us.”

“So, what? I rile them up until one of them blasts and I face the consequences?”

“Precisely,” She smirked. 

Meanwhile, back at the Villa, Jaemin was laughing at Jake, “maybe three years away from Y/N were not enough for you to get over her, huh?” 

“You dare mention any of it in front of her,” Jake warned, and Jaemin held his hands up in surrender. 

“But it’s funny, he practically dedicated his whole uni life trying to talk to her, only for Jay to hog up all her attention,” Heeseung chuckled, casually mentioning how Jake had the fattest crush on you. 

Jay only smirked, eyes still on the page of his book—not upside down this time, but no one believed he was actually reading. “What attention? All she ever did was argue with me about grades and deadlines.” 

“Yeah, and you loved it,” Heeseung added, tossing a grape into his mouth like he was enjoying front row seats to a drama, “come on, man, you used to pick fights with her for fun.”

“She started it,” Jay muttered.

Yeonjun cackled, “Dude. You rearranged your entire thesis timeline just to one-up her submission date. That’s not a competition—that’s obsession, or romantic academia, whatever you prefer.”

Jay’s jaw clenched after he gulped, but he didn’t do much to deny it.

Jake, on the other hand, looked ready to spontaneously combust. “Are we seriously doing this now? What are we, twelve?”

“No, but you might be regressing,” Heeseung said, holding up his phone like he was ready to take notes. “Seriously, you two are like a romcom waiting to happen. If this were a movie, you’d be the brooding lead, Jay, and Jake would be the funny guy who always wears the crazy sweatshirts.”

Yeonjun pointed dramatically between them as if planning something, “don’t worry, gentlemen. I’ll organize another truth or dare game tonight so both of you can publicly fumble your way through kissing Y/N.”

Jay scoffed, “I’m not kissing her, I have standards.”

“I would.” Jake shrugged. 

Everyone turned around in silence. 

Jay looked like he’d just bitten into a lemon too citrusy, “excuse me?”

Jake smirked casually. “What? If the moment’s right, sure. Unlike some people, I don’t need to fake read philosophy books to avoid my feelings.”

Yeonjun howled. “Gosh. Someone get a camera, this is gold.”

Jaemin wiped away a fake tear, getting his phone out, “do it again. Say it again but slower, more dramatic.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “You’re all idiots.”

Just then, the door slammed open and in marched Hyuck, holding a water gun and a Gatorade, looking mildly caffeinated and completely unhinged.

“Alright,” he said, scanning the room. “Why does it smell like fragile masculinity and repressed longing in here?” 

“They’re arguing about who gets to kiss Y/N,” Yeonjun announced, like he was reporting live from the battlefield, using the beer can as a mic.

“I’m not—” Jay started.

“Well, I am—but not in a weird way.” Jake interrupted seamlessly. 

Hyuck blinked, then nodded as if it was normal, “cool. Anyway so—grab your shoes. We’re playing dodgeball.”

Jake frowned. “What?”

“Dodgeball,” Hyuck repeated. “Y’know—throwing rubber balls at each other until someone cries of pain or confesses their feelings. Preferably both in your case, drunken Romeo.”

Jay narrowed his eyes with a chuckle, “what kind of deranged therapy is this?”

“The budget friendly kind,” Hyuck said, already loading his water gun for dramatic effect. “Five minutes. Backyard. Loser has to write Y/N a love poem in Comic Sans.”

 Heeseung gasped dramatically, “not comic Sans!”

Jake stood, cracking his knuckles. “Fine. Let’s settle this like men—with dodgeballs,” he said, faltering when he heard everyone snigger at how stupid he sounds. 

Jay groaned but got up anyway. “If I get hit in the face, I’m writing all of you out of my will.”

“You weren’t in mine to begin with,” Heeseung chirped.

Yeonjun tossed Jay a headband. “Here, for sweat and, well, just fashion in case Y/N comes back to see your sweaty ass.”

Jay rolled his eyes and Jake scoffed, “and I get nothing?”

“Well—”

Hyuck was already halfway out the door. “Let’s go, lovers. I expect no one to play like a good sportsman, I need to tell Y/N crazy stories, so, show your worst.” 

As Jay and Jake followed him out, Yeonjun turned to Heeseung and Jaemin with a dreamy sigh.

“Ah—the best wedding ever.”

Heeseung nodded with a smirk, “and they say romance is dead.”

Soon, the backyard beach was full with everyone, gathering around and tying red and blue scarves around their wrist, arm, or neck. Team blue consisted of Jay, Heeseung, Hyuck, and Jaemin. 

Red team was full of Jake, Beomgyu, Yeonjun, and Isa who claimed that the boys can’t hurt her by any means. 

Yunjin was on standby to judge the game. 

Sand was flowing around, testosterone at an all time high with the abandonment of shirts, trash talk on cue as the game started. 

Hyuck hurled a ball at Beomgyu’s knees, missing only because Beomgyu was in the middle of retying his shoelace and fell mid dodge, face full of disbelief. 

“I’m not even standing upright!” Beomgyu shouted from the ground, “this is practically a hate crime!”

“You’re on Jake’s team,” Jay replied, already winding up for another throw, biceps flexing, “collateral damage,” he smirked. 

Jake dove to block it—barely missing, and sent his own shot back, straight toward Jay, but it grazed off Jaemin’s shoulder instead.

“I’m not even the target!” Jaemin screamed, falling dramatically into the ocean foam like he’d been shot.

“It’s just friendly fire guys,” Yeonjun yelled, already running for cover.

The match got dirtier by the second.

Jake tackled a ball midair, skidding in the sand and probably pulling a muscle in the process. Jay threw with enough force to send a coconut tumbling, the shot directed towards Jake. Hyuck started commentating his own moves in third person. Heeseung “accidentally” tripped Beomgyu.

Beomgyu threw himself into the sand, limbs flailing. “I’m innocent! I’m the emotional support teammate!”

“You’re a human shield,” Jay called back, smirking.

Beomgyu lay dramatically in the sand, arms splayed out. “Tell Y/N I died bravely!”

“Yeah, as if that’ll get you anything,” Jake muttered.

“I hope she brings me an ice pack,” Beomgyu groaned. “And love. I deserve love.” 

The sun was just beginning to dip when you and Winter returned to the villa, arms loaded with shopping bags and cheeks still puffed with smile from a successful boutique raid and a plan to rile up the boys even more. 

You opened the gate with your elbow and stepped inside the backyard patio—only to immediately stop dead in your tracks with the sight laid in front of you. 

Because sprawled across the sandy grass was what looked like the aftermath of a dodgeball themed apocalypse slash war.

Beomgyu lay motionless on a beach towel, eyes closed like he was auditioning to be a corpse in a movie. Jake was dramatically stretching his arm like a wounded war hero, hissing in pain slightly. Jay stood nearby with a damp towel over his neck and a scrape on his neck, sulking for absolutely no reason. 

“What the hell happened?” You asked, eyebrows raised. 

It was almost comical how Jay was at your side in seconds, reaching for your bags before you could blink, which was comical by all means for someone who swore he hates being in your proximity. 

“I’ll take those,” he said smoothly, plucking half of them from your arms, “you shouldn’t be carrying so much, that’s heavy.”

Jake was not far behind, “did he just mansplain gravity to you?”

“Shut up, Jake,” Jay muttered. 

“Okay, what’s wrong with you?” You asked, dumbfounded, fingers burning from where Jay touched you. 

“Why? Jake’s not the only gentleman in the house,” he muttered, close enough for only you to hear. 

You looked up at him, not expecting to see his serious face, which only made your heartbeat faster as you gulped as turned away, stifling up your laugh midway. 

“Wait, I‘ll help,” Jake said, gathering the two bags left in your hand. 

“I didn’t ask any of you for help,” you said, though you made no move to take the bags back.

Behind you, the witness gallery had resumed commentary.

Isa shot up from her spot in the shade and launched herself at you, hugging you as if you’d just returned from war. “Finally! I thought I was going to die surrounded by flying dodgeballs.”

Yunjin stood nearby, arms crossed and face unimpressed, “never—ever, leave us alone with these men again. I’ve aged ten years.”

Beomgyu raised a weak hand from the towel, still flat on the ground. “I’ve been hit repeatedly without any cause.”

You crouched beside him, “why did you even play?”

“I existed,” Beomgyu said solemnly, “and that was apparently enough for me to be targeted.”

“Jay hit him in the thigh. Jake hit him in the back,” Yeonjun added helpfully, sipping from a coconut, clutching his own arm in pain. 

You turned to Jake, narrowing your eyes. “Did you aim at his back?”

Jake looked scandalized, shaking his head like a dog. 

“Your exact words were, ‘Oops, guess he blocked my shot at love,’” Jaemin chimed in from a hammock.

Beomgyu groaned, “my trauma is now a fuckass punchline.”

Jay reappeared on the patio, having dropped off your bags inside, and walked straight to you with the solemn dignity of someone who just ran errands for a queen. “You left for three hours and everything fell apart.”

“I can see that,” you said, not maintaining eye contact at the sudden appearance of them both, turning toward Jake.

Which probably wasn’t the finest choice either since he was sweaty all over, especially over his torso, trails of sweat dripping down his abs—same with Jay, who’s back was strong and flexing with his stretching. 

Jake immediately leaned into the dramatics. “Might’ve pulled something during a save, i’m not too sure—might need a shoulder massage. Or, y’know—moral support.”

You just stared, a smirk on your face right after as you stepped into his space, “you just sprained your ego.”

Beomgyu wailed from the ground. “I sprained my soul!”

Winter, who had quietly been watching all of this unfold with the calm of someone used to unhinged group dynamics, nudged Isa. “Place bets?”

Isa grinned. “Ten bucks Jay nonchalantly offers her juice in five minutes. Jake will say something flirty and completely inappropriate in three. Gyu will fake a limp again, right about now.”

As if on cue, Beomgyu tried to sit up and instantly grabbed his leg. “Ah—uh! The pain—Y/N, ice me again. You’re the only one with healing hands.”

Jay stepped between you, “you’ve had enough ice. Let someone who actually played get some attention.”

Jake opened his mouth, then froze. “Wait, are we fighting over ice now?”

You turned to Winter, deadpanning, “let’s leave again.”

Winter only smirked, “yeah, the boutique was definitely a better place with the young owner flirting with you, helping you try earrings and all—those tattooed arms, yum,” she said. 

None of this had happened. 

She only wanted you to see the boys’ reaction. 

“Who did what now?” Jake asked as if he had just been told that the Villa is haunted. 

“Are you not capable of trying your own jewellery?” Jay asked, jaw clenched as he put on a shirt. 

“Why? She helped us get a great discount—not to mention she got his number,” Winter said, way too happy as you laughed with her. 

“Ahah—Can I have your phone for a second, Y/N?” Jake asked, wanting to check and delete the number of a guy he didn’t even know the name of. 

“Way to be subtle, Jake,” Jay deadpanned and you only patted both their cheeks with a laugh, which made them freeze. 

Absolute stupid men. 

You sighed a second after, already regretting your return. “I swear, if one more person gets fake injured before the wedding, I’m throwing the entire villa into the sea.”

Jake beamed. “That means she cares.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “You do know you look pathetic, right?”

“And you’re in denial,” Jake shot back.

The tension thickened just as someone’s Gatorade exploded in the background.

Chapter 5: Desire never dies. 

The bonfire cracked and sparked like it knew it was hosting chaos. A giant circle of mismatched bean bags, folded towels, and stolen pool chairs formed a rough arena around the flames. The ocean breeze was fresh, the fire hot, and the people? Unhinged beyond words. 

You were freshly showered, makeup smudged just the right amount to look accidental, legs bare under your oversized hoodie. You claimed it was fate, and Jay hadn’t claimed anything, but he hadn’t stopped looking either.

“Welcome to the bonfire,” Hyuck bellowed, wielding a half melted marshmallow stick as if it were a sword, “where the rules are made up and your dignity—well, it doesn’t matter, except mine!”

Ever so theatrical, that’s Hyuck for you. 

“Never did,” Beomgyu said from his dramatic sprawl near the fire, one arm tossed across his face as if he was participating in a Shakespearean play, way too dramatic. 

You sat between Winter and Jake, a move that had been totally, completely random—except Jake had slid in before anyone else could, a déjà vu from last night, and Jay had taken the spot directly across from you. His arms were crossed, legs wide, face unreadable.

But his eyes? Those were locked on you like you were a particularly complicated riddle he didn’t want anyone else solving first. Academic issues much?

Isa spun the bottle like she was conducting a séance, her first victim being Yeonjun. 

“Truth,” he said, already sipping his beer.

“Did you kiss the Dean’s daughter back in uni, yes or no?” Yunjin asked.

“How the actual fuck—”

“Yeah, we got our answer.” Yunjin chuckled.

Laughter roared, along with whistles especially from the boys. Jake’s knee nudged yours softly.

Then the second spin happened, then third. Fourth. Games, truths, safe dares. And then, of course, the bottle landed on you.

“Y/N,” Isa grinned like a villain. “Truth or dare?”

You hesitated for a second, taking a deep breath.

Jay tilted his head slowly at your hesitation, smirking, “what’s wrong? Scared?”

Jake smirked alongside, “Say truth. I dare you.”

Your head whipped to him. “You can’t dare me before I choose dare.”

Jay’s voice was soft, yet smug, “oh, she’s definitely choosing dare now.”

You gritted your teeth, rolling your eyes as you looked at him and said, “dare.”

Isa’s grin widened, “let’s fucking go—kiss someone’s neck. Dealer’s choice.”

Someone fake fainted as the few others screamed, groaning alongside. 

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re all kids, school kids honestly.”

“But well, at least we know how to have fun,” Karina added helpfully, which did make you smile. 

You could feel Jake’s presence beside you like a heat layer on skin, you could hear his heartbeat if you leaned just a little closer, meanwhile Jay hadn’t blinked once.

You turned, Jake’s breath caught, barely, but he sat still as you leaned in slowly, one hand on his thigh to steady yourself, the other resting against his shoulder.

Your lips hovered, just for a moment—long enough for everyone to stop breathing—then you pressed a soft kiss to the space just below his jaw.

It was warm, gentle, yet firm, making Jake exhale out sharply, his heartbeat rising at an abnormal pace as you pulled back.

Jay’s expression screamed that he was not amused by any means, not surprised either, or smug. It was simply tight lipped, almost dangerous. 

Well, oops?

“Let’s keep going,” he said, his voice low, “It’s my turn, yeah?”

“Truth or dare?” Jaemin asked with a mischievous grin. 

“Dare.” He said in a beat. 

Beomgyu lit up, ready to stir trouble, “kiss Y/N, but—but somewhere worse than where she kissed Jake.”

You almost choked on your drink, “what do you mean worse?”

“I mean like—worse for you,” Beomgyu added. “Psychologically worse, something that you’ll remember, and since neck’s already taken, do better.”

Jay stood slowly, like he had all the time in the world. His shirt had sleeves rolled up just enough to make you question your moral compass, which was struggling to calibrate in all honesty.

“May I?” he asked.

He didn’t even look at the others—just you, and your heart betrayed you with how fast it pounded, yet, you nodded slowly. 

He crouched in front of you, hand brushing your knee as he leaned in—not toward your face, but down to your wrist, and then, with obscene slowness, Jay turned your palm down and pressed his lips to the upper side of your knuckles.

It was gentle, unlike Jay’s personality, but also burning in a certain manner, almost possessive if you squint. 

And you felt it all the way up your spine, when he looked back up, his face was close to you, too close for two average rivals. Your mouth was dry by now and Jake had gone statue still beside you.

You were pretty sure someone was clicking a picture of this, which only made it worse. 

“That okay?” Jay asked.

You blinked once, clearing your throat as you said, “y—yeah.”

He stood up, successfully hiding the red in his ears, meanwhile Jake looked ready to commit arson.

You should’ve left after the first “kiss someone’s neck” dare. That was your mistake.  

But no—you were still here. Sitting around two walking, talking, male ego laced puzzles who had now declared a full-blown psychological warfare via glances, smirks, and accidental touches.

Another round passed and you had to exchange hoodies with Jake, who now sat in your oversized cropped hoodie, sniffing your scent every now and then like a puppy, his own scent engulfing your body.  

“New round,” Hyuck announced, kicking his flip-flop at Yeonjun, “no more kiddie dares, let’s get real. Who’d Y/N rather cuddle with during a thunderstorm?”

“Is this still a game or maybe, targeted harassment?” you asked, irritated at the teddy bear like boy. 

“Just answer the question,” Winter said, eyes shining like a villain’s apprentice.

Jake was lounging beside you, one leg stretched out, his arm casually behind you, his fingers barely brushing your shoulder, almost warm. 

Jay was still across from you, leaning back on his elbows, the firelight making his skin glow golden, his lips set in a flat line like he was already predicting the answer and bracing for disappointment.

Your gaze flicked between them in a sudden competition but you had an answer in mind, you took a breath, making everyone scream as you said “Jay.”

Jake’s body stiffened, not expecting that name coming out of your mouth. 

Jay stilled for a second as well, before slowly composing himself, his lips curving into a smirk, despite his heart hammering against his chest, “good choice, smartie.”

“Yeah, nevermind, I’d like to change my answer,” you muttered, glaring.

“No take-backs,” Karina called.

“Oh, but wait,” Isa grinned wickedly, “next one’s for balance. Y/N—who would you fake date to make an ex jealous?”

You didn’t even pause, the answer obvious, “Jake.”

Jake turned to you, that flirty tilt back in his grin, “yeah? Interesting, babe.”

“Why?” Jay asked, sharp.

“She’d eat her ex alive with me on her arm,” Jake said smoothly. “Let’s be real, I’d wear tight shirts and pretend not to understand personal space.”

“As if you do now,” you muttered under your breath. 

Jay rolled his eyes, “she doesn’t need a walking thirst trap. She needs strategy, understanding.”

“I’m the distraction, you’re a fucking PowerPoint presentation, who wants that, huh?” Jake shot back.

“Exactly,” you said before they could fight more, “Jake would make them regret, and Jay would make them suffer.”

Hyuck nearly choked on his drink. “That’s the most accurate thing ever said.”

“I have range,” you added with a proud sip.

Jay’s eyes held yours, “you have no idea.”

Oh.

You swallowed hard.

Before anyone could recover, Yeonjun clapped like a conductor. “Alright—final dare of the night. Y/N.” 

You met his eyes, accepting your fate, “dare, again?”

Isa chuckled, “whisper the dirtiest thing you want, one to Jay, one to Jake. Well, just say anything that would drive them crazy.”

Everyone lost it, having fun at your expense oh so perfectly, a laugh leaving your own mouth as Winter winked at you, urging you well to rile up the boys. 

Jay raised an eyebrow as Jake sat perfectly still.

You stood up, slow and deliberate, first leaning towards Jake, bending down, your lips brushing his ear, giving him goosebumps in the process. 

“I want you to pin me down and make me fall apart on your tongue,” you whispered with the newfound confidence, courtesy of alcohol, but you couldn’t deny, you loved playing this game. 

How could you not? Not when he inhaled sharply, jaw flexing as his eyes followed you when you crossed, making your way to Jay, who didn’t move an inch. You leaned in, lower this time, lips ghosting his neck.

“I want you to fuck the attitude out of me the next time we argue,” you said as Jay’s knuckles went white around his glass, his face turning towards you, lips almost brushing against your cheek. 

You sat back down, cool and composed, Karina let out a dreamy sigh. “God, I love my wedding.”

Everyone laughed, fanning their faces at the sudden increase in temperature too. Jake’s hand was still twitching while Jay didn’t bother blinking, the fire crackled, the silence screamed as the game finally got over. 

You stood up first. “I need sleep. And therapy probably,” you muttered. 

Jake stood too. “I’ll walk you back.”

Jay was already turning toward the villa. “Don’t bother. I’m headed there too.”

You chuckled, almost scoffing at the two boys and their childish ways. You thought that would be the end of it. A few cheeky dares, some group laughter, an awkward side hug from Beomgyu—but no.

No, apparently hell hath no fury like two competitive men losing a fantasy battle they never even agreed to play in the first place.

Because as soon as the group began dispersing, the fire embers dimming into a warm glow, both Jay and Jake were on their feet.

And closing in.

“Hey,” Jake said, quiet, casual, his eyes were sharp.

Jay’s voice came in just after, low and dry, “so—”

You turned slowly, you could smell it coming, the confrontation. Tension coiled in the air as you were cornered, on the beach, at night, between two men who looked like they could be models for opposing fragrance campaigns.

“Just curious,” Jay said, stepping a little closer, “what made you pick me for the thunderstorm question?”

You blinked, not expecting them to ask this and not what you had whispered, “really?”

Jake crossed his arms, “actually—yeah. That was interesting.”

You opened your mouth, shutting it back for a second, “do I need a lawyer if I don’t wanna answer?”

“Jay for cuddling,” Jake said, eyes flicking to you, “but me for the jealousy plot? I’m just trying to understand the criteria.”

Jay narrowed his eyes, “yeah. Sounds like mixed signals.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, rubbing your forehead.

Jake’s voice dipped, quiet and smug. “Must’ve been a good whisper.” Jake said looking at how intensely Jay looked at you. 

“I’ll kill you,” Jay snapped. 

Jake grinned, “In your dreams.”

Your eyes widened, a laugh leaving your lips, “you guys are not actually fighting about this—”

“We’re not fighting,” they said in unison, not even looking at each other, making the whole situation more comical. 

“We’re having a mature conversation,” Jake added.

“Very mature,” Jay agreed, “so, explain.” 

“You want me to explain why I picked each of you for obvious different hypothetical situations?” you asked, incredulous.

They both stared at you—dead fucking serious as if this wasn’t a matter to be joking about at all. 

You groaned, stepping back into the moonlight like it would save you, “okay, fine. You,” you said, pointing at Jay, “I picked for the thunderstorm cuddle because, and I hate saying this out loud—you’re stable. You don’t flinch at anything, you know me better, it’ll be safer, only if you behave and calm me down,” you cringed as you said so.

Jay froze on the spot, gulping as he looked elsewhere. 

“Safe?” he repeated, like the word offended him. Like it wasn’t the highest compliment anyone had ever paid him.

You turned to Jake, “and you—I picked for the ex jealousy dare because you’re charming, effortlessly. You’d flirt with the plants just to make someone jealous, and somehow it would work, not that I’m charmed so, don’t give me that look.”

Jake’s brows lifted as he tried to look smug but he failed. Instead, he looked stunned. Neither of them said anything anymore. And for a moment, standing between them, you realized the fire wasn’t the warmest thing in this circle.

“But—” you added quickly, stepping back, “that doesn’t mean anything, it was a game, yeah? Chill.” You said testing the waters. 

“Right,” Jay said, but his tone had cooled to something unreadable.

Jake nodded once, jaw tight. “Game, yup, got it.”

You looked between them and you swore—for one split second—they both looked at each other and decided simultaneously to back off.

Temporarily.

Like they knew the real game was starting now.

Chapter 6: A Sim and a sin. 

It was hard to go back to your room, so you took a detour, talking with Karina about your day, and how she only smirked telling you how proud she is now that you’re finally getting some cock—to which you groaned. 

That was basically her mission for her wedding, to get you dicked down. 

Alas, you decided to get some well deserved sleep before the wedding rehearsals tomorrow, opening the door to your shared room and immediately regretting every decision that led you to this moment. Because inside, sprawled comfortably across the double bed, was Jake, in your hoodie, still, the same cropped hoodie from earlier, stretched over his torso like a model. One leg bent lazily, the other stretched out, jaw loose from tiredness, but eyes—alert. Watching you like he’d been waiting all this while for you to return. 

Your body had the audacity to shiver, to show him that he affects you. 

“Hey, princess,” he said, voice low, teasing, almost deeper than usual, “room service good enough for you?”

You didn’t answer, poking your tongue on the inside of your cheek at his blatant flirting, and because just then, the bathroom door creaked open.

Steam blew out, followed by Jay—freshly showered, towel slung low on his hips, water droplets trailing from his chest down to that dangerous dip of his abs.

He ran a towel over his hair and looked up, right into your eyes, pausing for a beat, only to smirk right after, remembering what you had whispered in his ear before he spoke up, “you’re staring.”

You snapped your eyes away, heat creeping up your neck, “you came out here like that on purpose.”

“Sure,” he said, accepting it, “I always forget clothes when I know someone’s waiting for me to fulfill their fantasies, and I’m not talking studies now, you sapiosexual.”

Jake rolled his eyes behind you, “yeah, mate. She’s already halfway there. See this is why you’re single, and she’s mine.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, turning your back to both of them and walking toward the closet.

You didn’t see the look they exchanged behind your back, didn’t see how both of them shifted—sat up straighter, watching you like you were a deer in a den of wolves, which was halfway true. 

You rummaged through your bag, flustered, breathing uneven, that’s when the knock came, and you froze wondering who it could be. 

Jake grinned, “well, that’s the sound of chaos.”

You opened the door, and there he was—Beomgyu, dramatically hunched, clutching his lower back like a poor animal who was hurt. 

“I—I need you,” he gasped, acting perfectly to get his eyes watery. 

Jay, towel still firmly in place, muttered, “you’ve got a solid five seconds to disappear.”

“It’s because of you both,” Beomgyu hissed, “you both killed me with your dodgeball bullshit. Doesn’t matter, Y/N, you’re the only one who can save me.”

Before you could react, he was already limping inside like a wounded war general, heading straight to your bed, and you let out a little laugh at his stupid antics. 

Jake narrowed his eyes, “oh you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“I’m dying,” Beomgyu whispered, “and her hands are the only thing keeping me alive.”

He flopped onto the bed next to yours with a painful groan, “need your healing touch.”

You chuckled, “why are you like this?”

Jay’s voice was low, flat almost, “again, you’ve got three seconds to walk out or be carried out.”

“Carry me away, go on,” Beomgyu challenged, “do it, muscle boy.”

Jake moved first. “Okay, that’s it.”

He strode over and grabbed the nearest pillow—then smacked it across Beomgyu’s head.

“Gentlemen!” Beomgyu shrieked, almost falling down, “there’s a lady present! Where are your manners, let’s just behave now.”

“I’m trying not to kill you in front of her,” Jake muttered.

Beomgyu rolled onto his back with a dramatic moan, “Y/N, I need you to press right here, just gently, real slow—”

Jay appeared at the foot of the bed, “you want slow?” His voice was low.

Beomgyu gulped.

Jake was beside you now, way closer than he had to be, “god he’s testing us.”

“I’m testing the boundaries of my own trauma here,” Beomgyu corrected, “why are you even naked?” He asked, pointing at Jay who was in towel, and Jake who sported your cropped hoodie. 

You reached for the ice pack Jay had set down earlier and leaned over Beomgyu’s back to press it, whispering in his ear, “okay, who put you up to this?”

“Uh—well, Winter and Yeonjun,” Beomgyu whispered back, and you laughed, making the other two boys wonder what was going on, so essentially, you followed his lead, not knowing how crazy Beomgyu could be. 

Because, unfortunately, the moment your hand touched his shirt, he moaned. Like, a real moan, soft and dramatic, actually just downright ridiculous. 

Jake tensed beside you while Jay’s towel almost fell off from pure rage. Now, that would have been a solid scene. 

“Oh my god,” you hissed, yanking the pack back, “yeah, no, you’re done.”

“I was almost healed—”

“You’re almost dead,” Jay deadpanned.

Jake grabbed his arm. “Up. Out you fucking gremlin.”

Beomgyu pointed at you as he was frog marched to the door. “I’ll remember your kindness.”

“You’re crazy,” you muttered.

Then the door slammed and Beomgyu’s moan of “I’ll never forget you!” echoed down the hall. 

Then came the silence.

Not the kind that meant the night was over, but the kind that meant it was just getting started.

Jay leaned against the dresser, towel slung dangerously low, water still trailing down his muscular chest like it belonged there. His arms were crossed, but his gaze was anything but casual, it was precise.

Jake was on the bed, still wearing your cropped hoodie, sleeves shoved up, the hem bunched halfway up his abdomen. He looked like a problem, the one you couldn’t solve. 

You didn’t bother moving and neither did they.

“So—” you said, voice deliberately low, “those were a weird five minutes.”

Jake grinned slowly, almost challenging, “could have been six if you’d rubbed a little lower.”

You rolled your eyes, “you’re disgusting by the way.”

He nodded, unashamed, “yeah? And flexible for you.”

Jay exhaled softly, “you did look—focused, y’know?”

You turned to him, “for Beomgyu?”

He tilted his head, “still, got a reaction.”

Jake hummed, “not from you, though.”

“What does that even mean?” You asked, furrowing your brows. 

He sat forward, straighter, “just saying. Maybe it wasn’t him that had your attention.”

Jay’s voice was low, as he said, “you’re still flustered.”

“I am not—” you paused, cursing internally. “Okay, this is ridiculous.”

You spun toward your suitcase, actually flustered by now, but you didn’t even get two steps before Jake called out.

“You know,” he said, voice deceptively light, “if you wanted someone else to moan your name tonight,” he stretched, a smirk on his face as usual, “all you had to do was ask.”

Jay didn’t laugh, nor did he smile, only bothering enough to say, “you really want to test that theory, Jake?”

Jake raised his hands, “just putting ideas out there, no harm dude, no harm.”

You stared at both of them with disbelief, also feeling it, the heat rising in your chest, curling low in your stomach like butterflies, while also twisting somewhere behind your ribs.

You needed to do better, they wanted to push? You could push back, and so you turned, walking slowly towards Jake first, confident, making his smile falter at the sudden shift in your demeanor.

You stopped right between his knees, staring down at him as he looked up at you, lips parted slightly, breath quieter now despite the rise in his heartbeat.

You reached down, hand grazing his thigh just barely, just a brush, just enough to feel the tension snap through his body like he’d get something he’s been after for ages. 

“You really want to be next?” You asked.

“Next in—uh, what way?” He asked, gulping.  

You leaned down, placing your hand on his chest over the hoodie, resting your palm there, pressing it further.

“You’ve been acting like you’re ready,” you whispered, “but you’ve barely touched me, Jakey.”

“Is that—an invitation?” He whispered, eyes darkened. 

You smiled. “No, it’s just an observation.”

Then you pushed back gently—just enough to stand again, Jake’s face was unreadable, almost like a mix of holy shit and fucking hell do it again.

You turned your back on him then, walking towards Jay who hadn’t moved, his eyes flicking up as you approached him, and when you reached him, the only part of him that shifted was his mouth—twisting into a smirk that he knew drove you crazy.

“You planning on saying something, or will you just stand there looking hot?” you asked.

Jay’s eyes dropped to your lips, a little laugh escaping him at your boldness, “why choose one?”

You stepped closer, close enough that your shirt brushed his stomach faintly, close enough that you could see every drop of water still clinging on to his skin.

Then you reached up, slow, intentional, and slid your hand over his shoulder, across his collarbone, dragging a line down the center of his chest, down his torso. 

Just a single finger and it was enough for Jay’s breath to be stilled. You tapped a droplet off of his sternum, “aw, you missed a spot.”

He looked at you, sharper than ever, stepping closer, putting up faux confidence, “why? You volunteering to dry me off?”

“Tempting,” you said as you leaned in, voice softer now, almost like a pity, “but I don’t think you’re the one who needs drying off right now, Jongseongie.”

That was all it took for Jay to lose his smirk, his composure and probably the last bit of sanity he held inside him. 

Meanwhile, you smiled, taking a step back, eyes still shining with mischief, before you turned and stood right between both of them, hands loose at your sides.

Jake let out a soft, surprised breath, while Jay still didn’t bother blinking. You stepped back once more, letting them take you in, their arms almost opening to actually touch you. 

But then you turned, walking back to your bed, slowly pulling back the blanket as you climbed in, your lip twitching up as you said, “but if either of you still tries to get brave after lights out,” you paused, looking both of them in the eye, “then try knocking. You never know what I’ll say.”

Neither of them spoke after that, they didn’t have to, not when you had clearly won this round. As tempted as they were, they knew you were playing with them, but soon, it would be otherwise, especially with their head gears turning at the fastest possible speed they could achieve. 

And their silence? It felt like the loudest thing in the room.

Chapter 7: Cufflinks go on the inside, mate.   

This morning was supposed to be peaceful, being the day of wedding rehearsals, you somewhat expected people to be on their best behaviour, not knowing the intense chaos that awaited you, destroying the peace.  

Because downstairs, it was no less than a war zone with how Jaemin and Hyuck argued about the pancake toppings, Isa and Yunjin trying to find the lipgloss she lost yesterday, and Winter, who blasted her unhinged playlist on the speaker. 

You stood at the center of it like the classic standing emoji, just guarding and sipping on your coffee, silently observing the explosion of the bridal duty chaos that overtook the villa. 

Winter sat beside you, sipping on her mimosa, clad in her silk robe, “I have survived Mrs. Kim’s lectures, internships, a rodent in my pants, but this is where I draw the line—a wedding? The wedding of my close friend, mind you.”

You chuckled, “yeah well, you don’t expect the rehearsal to go smoothly, do you?”

Before either of you could reply further, in came the bride with her royal looking robe and hair curlers, clutching her phone as she fumed, “okay, i’ll ask this very respectfully—who the actual fucking fuck changed the seating chart? Why is my dad sitting next to the professor who still sends me weird memes? Actually, who even invited him here?”

You snorted along with all the other girls, “technically, I moved it cause there’s no way your uncle Park should be sitting near the open bar.”

“You literally colour coded my family based off of their chaos level and made the seating arrangement out of it?” Karina asked, disbelief clear on her face, soon turning into an expression which screamed impressive. 

She sighed before her eyes landed on you and she launched herself, hugging you tight, almost making you lose balance but thankfully your coffee stayed safe, “you,” she said, leaning back, “your mind is working fine thank fucking god, I need you to wrangle Jay and Jake, your supposed boyfriends, for the rehearsal because god forbid one of them shows up shirtless then you’ll have to be the one to answer my family.” 

You shook your head, “god no, why me? You’re the reason why they’re being this stupid too,” you said, accusing her. 

“Because they both listen to you, and they’re in love with you,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, Winter and Isa nodding along. 

And cue, you are choking on your coffee. 

Karina chuckled, “yeah, swallow your truth, babe.”

You couldn’t believe this was happening, it was simply hard to wrap your mind around the fact that the not so shy anymore Jake, and the smartass Jay were actually after you. 

It didn’t take you much time to get dressed up in a silky blue dress, not the one you will be wearing to wedding, just something you all ordered together to wear at the rehearsals, while Karina was clad in a white blazer dress with a clipboard, standing next to the wedding planner to orchestrate it all. 

“Let the chaos ensue now,” Winter said, high fiving Yunjin.

“Amen,” Isa grinned. 

You rolled your eyes, watching Jay and Jake argue about something, halfway dressed up, standing near the aisle. 

“Cufflinks go on the inside mate,” Jake said, crossing his arms over his vest, with the top few buttons undone. 

“Since when do you care about accessories?” Jay asked, rolling up the sleeves of his black button up. 

Yeah, they looked as if they were ready for some sort of magazine shoot, especially with Jake’s curls looking effortless, and Jay’s jawline being sharper than ever, the sun making them shine more than usual. 

“God forbid someone tries to look good,” Jake muttered. 

“Who do you even have to impress?” Jay pressed. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Jake smirked and Jay only looked annoyed. 

The sound of your heels clacking made them look up, and straight to you. There was no subtlety in their reactions, especially when Jake let out a low whistle, eyeing you like you’re the only morsel left for him to devour. 

Jay stood up straighter, as if he was more spatially aware now, licking his bottom lip and trying his level best not to make it obvious that he was staring at you, miserably failing as he did so. 

“Hey,” you smiled, making Isa chuckle as she watched the interaction from a distance. 

“You’re—stunning,” Jake breathed out, losing composure, almost sounding like a pathetic loser. 

“You clean up well,” Jay cleared his throat, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

You raise your brow, “just well? And thanks Jakey,” you mumbled, and you swore you saw red creeping up Jake’s ear, almost making him seem like the Jake you knew during uni. 

“Trying to be respectful, for now,” Jay replied, maintaining eye contact. 

“Wow, that’s a first,” you teased, making the corner of his lip twitch up just a fraction before he composed himself again. 

“He’s just saying that to get you riled up,” Jake mumbled. 

“Bold of you to assume I don’t always do that,” Jay retorted, looking you in the eye. 

You let a breath out, tilting your head with a little smile, “alright, enough of this.”

Karina marched in right then, “okay so, will you guys stop flirting so we can practice walking down the aisle?”

“Let’s go with both,” Hyuck slid in, arm around your shoulder, “would be a great show if you ask me.”

“Oh please, I already know who i’ll be voting off already,” Yunjin said, making both the boys look at each other with doubt. 

“Not me for sure,” Jay shrugged. 

“Excuse me? Not me for sure,” Jake argued. 

You sighed as they looked one second away from arm wrestling, or well, wrestling in general if you must. That’s when you stepped in between them, grabbing Jake’s vest and Jay’s shirt, making them short circuit for a solid second. 

“Now, behave before Karina throws you out of the wedding.” You pointed out at the girl, who glared at the boys instantly, her expression full of mischief (at the obvious tension between you three) changing in a split second. 

“In position. Now.”

“You heard her, now no more arguments or I’m changing my partner,” you announced and Jay stilled. 

“Well, I would love that, I’ll be your partner then—” Jake started. 

“Shut it,” Jay said, being the one who is gonna walk with you. 

The planner gave a relieved nod at the tension which was sorted now, somehow, till some extent.

“You guys are so dramatic,” Isa muttered, taking her spot a few steps behind with Heeseung, who looked like he was just here for the complimentary champagne.

“I’m literally sweating just watching them,” Beomgyu added. 

“Okay!” the wedding planner clapped. “From the top! Groom’s party walks down first, then bridesmaids and groomsmen in pairs, followed by the maid of honor, and finally the bride. Let’s go!”

Karina stepped aside to join Jeno near the altar setup, mouthing good luck to you as she went. 

“Shall we?” Jay asked, offering you his arm, giving a look to Jake in the background who clenched his jaw.

“One wrong step and I’m taking over,” Jake muttered to himself. 

You linked your arm with his, and he only pulled you closer, to the point you were highly aware of his scent, his body heat, and how he gulped when he felt the proximity too. 

“You’re doing this on purpose, right?”

You tilted your head toward him innocently. “hm? Doing what?”

“That dress, that look that smug little smile like you know exactly what you’re doing to me, to Jake.”

The tone of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

You didn’t get a chance to respond, because from behind, Jake muttered, “Keep your voice down, man. She’s walking, not seducing.”

“Who says I can’t multitask?” You said, making Jay hold you tighter, while Jake looked as if he could combust on the spot. 

You reached the end of the aisle, pausing in front of the altar. Jay stepped aside, but not before he brushed your waist with his hand, not being subtle about it by any means. 

“We should walk together more often,” he whispered, letting you go. 

Good fucking lord. 

“You do realize I’m not letting him have the last word, right?” Jake said, offering Isa his arm as they moved, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Isa patted his shoulder, “oh honey, at this point, I’m just praying we make it to dinner without a physical fight.”

Once the whole party had taken their turns, twice, Karina called everyone back and congratulated them for not fucking up this time. 

Then it was the time for the next step, the rehearsal dinner, and you weren’t sure how much of it you could survive, but you were surely looking forward to it, taking a look at Jake first, who was already staring at you, then Jay, who too was fixated on you. 

Karina blew her whistle, yes, an actual whistle—snapping everyone’s attention back.

“Alright my stupid little bridal and well, groom party, time to head to the rehearsal dinner. Move before I start pairing you up with random aunts and uncles.”

Jake let out a dramatic groan, “if I have to sit next to Aunt Haeun, I will riot. She force fed me sea cucumber a few minutes back.”

Jay smirked, “want me to hold your hand when she brings out the pickled fishes too?”

Jake cocked his head, eyes sharp, “want to build it outside?”

“Oh my fucking god,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose, “yeah, no, I’m  gonna need a shot before dinner, or maybe three actually.”

Right on cue, Beomgyu charged beside you with the energy of someone who absolutely lived for this. “Say no more, princess. I already know where the good tequila is hidden.”

“See, that’s why you’re my favorite,” you told him as he looped your arm with his and started leading you away from the aisle.

“I aim to serve,” he said. 

You glanced over your shoulder—only to catch both Jake and Jay already watching you, both visibly annoyed that Beomgyu was the one at your side. Jay stuffed his hands in his pockets and muttered something to himself. Jake’s jaw ticked as he ran a hand through his curls, glaring holes into Beomgyu’s back.

Beomgyu didn’t even flinch, expecting that much, “and the feral boyfriends awaken,” he whispered proudly.

The rehearsal dinner was set outdoors, perfectly decorated with fairy lights wrapped around the low hanging trees, long tables already prepped with starter dishes and temporary name cards. 

You were sat between Winter and Jay, with Jake sitting directly across from you, making it easy for him to look your way with lovesick eyes. Way to be subtle. 

“One man will surely cry tonight,” Winter winced, clinking her glass with yours as you shook your head. 

Jay had gone quiet, only for him to lean over and say, “you smell good.”

“Excuse me?” You said, looking at the man who chuckled, and it sounded way too rich for you to even comprehend. 

“Just saying, as no one else has the balls to do so.”

You raised your brows, “is this your way to what? Flirt with me?”

He took a sip of his champagne, “if you want it to be.”

Jake leaned in, “she’s been using the same perfume since uni, nothing new—but yeah, you smell so good,” he said. 

“Doesn’t make it any less distracting,” Jay answered. 

You tried to calm your poor heart as now the two boys fought for your attention shamelessly. 

“Funny, you said you don’t notice perfumes when I asked you about mine before the rehearsal started,” Jake challenged. 

“Guess I only notice the people I like.”

You almost spit out the piece of chicken you had just taken a bite of at the absurdity of the situation, and of course, what Jay had said, not to mention the fact that Jake just knows about your perfume. 

“Okay hold the actual fucking fuck up, did the Jay Park, the annoying broody old man, just admit he likes his rival?” Hyuck gasped and you groaned, hiding your face. 

“Yeah, Beomgyu, bar again,” you said, grabbing his arm. 

“Anything you want babe,” he replied. 

“Oh yeah? Do tell him about the night, the perfume,” Jake said, leaning back and smirking. 

“What night?” Jay asked, tensed all of a sudden and you literally ran as fast as you could, almost bumping into Karina’s mother who asked if you were okay and you nodded quickly. 

“Okay, what night? Spill, when did you cheat on me?” Beomgyu asked, almost offended and you rolled your eyes, getting another drink. 

“The farewell after party, I was drunk, went out on the balcony, it was raining and Jake followed me, sat down with me, gosh I don’t remember much but yeah he let me lean on his shoulder and told me he loved my scent,” you rambled and Gyu’s smile grew like a wicked man. 

“Oh he’s been so down bad since uni,” he chuckled. 

“Lord save me,” you groaned, “but it’s okay, we never met again, well, up until now.” 

Gyu only laughed harder, leaning on the bar beside you with a dramatic sigh, as if this were the juiciest drama he’d ever come across, which fairly enough, was the truth, “no wonder he clutches his chest every time you wear that perfume and go near him.”

“Oh they’re coming again,” you groaned, trying to act normal, confident. 

Jake arrived first, sliding up beside you with a smirk, “hope I didn’t scare you off with that memory.”

Jay came in on the other side, narrowing his eyes at Jake before turning to you. “So—this night he keeps bringing up, care to elaborate?”

You raised your brows, looking from one to the other, “why? You jealous you didn’t have a balcony moment with me in uni, Jay?”

“Wait what?”

You stared at both of them, exasperated and, frankly, two seconds away from running, “okay. Since we’re all apparently incapable of normal interaction, let me lay it out for you guys,” you turned to Jake, “yes, I remember the night, barely, I was drunk okay? You said I smelled good. I leaned on your shoulder. We did not kiss.”

Then you looked at Jay, “and yes, I’m wearing the same perfume. Not because I’m trying to seduce you two idiots, but because I like it, now if you’ll excuse me.”

You rushed out to get your two new glasses of whiskey as the guys stared at you, “she’s a problem, y’know?” Jay muttered. 

“And you like that,” said Beomgyu. 

“Oh I fucking love it,” said Jake with a smirk. 

“Damn, she got y’all feral,” said Gyu. 

“Yeah and imagine what will happen if I actually fucking try,” You said, turning and smirking before you walk away fully. 

Jake whistled, and Jay smiled just a smidge, both losing their cool. 

Beomgyu only smirked. 

“Down fucking bad.”

Chapter 8: Double bed caters to three. 

You were beyond tired and ready to retire to bed after the intense day you had today, only to find Karina waiting for you right outside your room, a sheepish smile on her face. 

She hugged you the second she saw you, “hey, so, Jeno’s great aunt arrived today when she wasn’t even gonna attend the wedding and we don’t have any beds left so we’ve taken yours—I’m sorry I’m so fucking sorry please share the bed with your two hot boyfriends who are ready to devour you, okay bye,” she rambled everything in one go, leaving you stunned. 

And then, she ran away before you could say anything in return. You stood there, frozen, blinking once, and twice, then your eyes widened. 

“Oh fuck—no, absolutely not,” you almost cried out, this couldn’t be happening, not when you had practically teased the boys all day, god no. 

You took a deep breath, opening the door with more force than required and were instantly hit with the view of two men, or more accurately, wolves who were waiting for their prey (read: you).

Jay sat against the headboard with his grey sweatpants on and nothing else, his shirt was thrown somewhere across the floor, hair damp from a shower, jawline sharp, and lips red from how he bit them in anticipation the whole time. His arms were folded behind his head, biceps flexed, and eyes focused lazily on the ceiling like he wasn’t diving you crazy.

Jake was on the other side of the bed, laid out like a prince who was carefully, clad in your hoodie from earlier, hood up, soft wavy hair spilling out, collarbones peeking where the fabric drooped just enough to make your imagination run wild, his legs were stretched, one arm behind his head, the other scrolling through something on his phone like he hadn’t been waiting for this exact moment all night.

They both wanted to pounce on you by all means, the difference was, one was aware and flirting, the other in denial but full fledgedly flirting too. 

Both their heads turned in sync when they heard you, as if they had finally spotted their prey. 

“Welcome back, princess,” Jake chuckled. 

Jay’s gaze dragged down your body like he still couldn’t get used to how good the dress looked on you, and imagining how it would look even better on the floor. 

You didn’t speak, just slowly turned around in hopes of like maybe, maybe, walking away and sleeping on one of the chairs near the pool. 

“Yeah, don’t even try to run,” Jay said smoothly, already sitting up straighter. 

“Cute,” Jake added.

“I cannot do this,” you muttered, almost tugging at your hair. 

“Hey, we’ll behave y’know?” Jake said. 

“Yeah, being gentlemen and all,” Jay added not so helpfully. 

“Touch me,” you said, holding up a finger as a warning, “either of you, and I swear I’ll smother you with a fucking pillow.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, unbothered, “you think that’s gonna stop us?”

You stared at him in disbelief, the nerve of these men oh gosh. 

Jake just winked, “we’ll be so good, I promise.” He whispered, a hint of suggestive undertone lacing his voice, the kind that made you feel weak in your knees. 

“Uh-huh, you’re literally not capable of that,” you said, storming toward the bathroom, “don’t even look in my direction. Turn off the lights. Face opposite walls. Do not breathe near me. No touching I swear to god I’ll chop your hands off.”

You slammed the door and changed into the comfiest, least sexy pajamas you could find, which still somehow didn’t provide enough protection from the two hungry men outside, who were willing to offer you their everything, or better, they knew they were already yours. 

So, when you emerged in your tank and shorts, you saw the shift in their expressions. Jake’s smirk flickered. Jay’s eyes lowered slowly, then snapped back up like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t, and you hated how warm your skin suddenly felt.

You walked to the bed like it was the new battleground you were sent to with no armour or ammo; and yanked the blanket back, crawling in between them with the slow dread.

Jake exhaled, low and amused, ‘’middle, huh? Bold move, princess.”

The nickname, that fucking nickname, it should have been illegal how perfectly it rolled off of Jake’s tongue, especially laced with his accent. 

You glared at him, “yeah, want me to go to Jay’s side then?”

That shut him up for a second, “hey, I’m warmer than him.”

“Oh, the fuck you’re not,” Jay replied. 

“See, this is why I’m in the middle, now, say one more word and I will throw hands.”

Jay’s voice came low, “yeah? Don’t make promises you’re not ready to keep.”

You groaned and buried your face into your pillow, muttering, “I’m going to start sleeping in the car, or the pool, or just with Jeno’s great aunt at this point.”

Beside you, Jake leaned in just enough for his voice to reach your ear, completely ignoring your previous comment, “you still smell like that perfume.”

And on the other side, Jay murmured, “it drives me crazy.”

You closed your eyes, rubbing your thighs together to prevent your composure from breaking. This bed was hell reincarnated.

Jay had started behind you like a gentleman, but now his bare chest was flush to your back, his palm low on your stomach—so low you were sure it had stopped counting as innocent a long time ago. His thumb stroked tiny, lazy circles there, each one drawing you closer to a possible cardiac arrest.

Jake, in front of you, had long abandoned the sweet idea of personal space. His leg was tangled with yours, his hand resting right at the upper part of your thigh. That would’ve been fine if his fingers weren’t moving, occasionally touching the edge of your shorts like he was counting how far he could go before you snapped.

Some gentleman they were. 

You were still, losing your mind, almost afraid that others would hear the erratic beating of your poor little heart.

“Still awake?” Jake murmured, voice ready to commit sins. 

“I can’t sleep with sticky fucking limbs all over me,” you muttered, voice tight.

Jay chuckled deeply behind you, his nose brushing your neck, inhaling your scent, “you seemed pretty comfortable five minutes ago.”

“That was before you started petting me, I was asleep.”

Jake’s fingers only trailed higher, “petting? I wouldn’t call this petting.”

Your whole body tensed at his voice getting deeper each second, body shaking ever so gently as you tried not to lose your composure, because what will these idiots even do if you threaten to actually leave?

“Okay,” you said, breathless, “touch me again and I’m leaving.”

Jay’s lips caressed your jaw, “oh fuck no, you’re not.”

You twisted your body, trying to free yourself from the two horny creatures, flinging off the blanket and sitting up, heart pounding, ready to test them, or well, get them to behave. 

“I’m going to Beomgyu’s room.”

Jake lifted his head, jaw ticking, “you’re doing what now?”

Jay propped himself up on an arm, eyes sharp, “I said, no. You’re not.”

“He has a single bed and self restraint, unlike the two of you.”

You stood, reaching for your hoodie and the boys panicked big time, before their eyes darkened at the thought of you in someone else’s bed. Like that’s ever gonna happen. 

Jake’s voice went low, “you’re bluffing.”

“If either of you touch me again,” you started saying and they froze before you turned, smiling sweetly, “I’m going to go sleep on Beomgyu’s bed. Naked.”

Then came the silence, loud, dead, almost suffocating. 

Jake sat up so fast the blanket fell off his lap, “oh fuck you’re not, you’re not serious.”

Jay was already reaching for you, “try taking one more step.”

“I dare you to stop me.”

Jake stood too, grabbing your waist, “yeah? Try walking out like that.”

Jay pulled you backward by your waist in record time, like he’d done it a hundred times, like he knew exactly how to handle you, and you landed flat on your back between them again, breath stolen from the force of it.

“Guys—”

“You think we’re letting you go to Beomgyu’s like this?” Jay’s voice was low.

Jake’s hand slid over your exposed thigh, firm now, holding you in place, “you wanted a reaction, princess? Congratulations, you got one. Now, get back to sleep.” 

You squirmed beneath the blanket, but Jake’s leg hooked over yours again, locking you down.

Jay leaned over you, one hand rested beside your head, “say it again.”

You blinked up at him, voice now faltering, “s—say what?”

Jake’s lips brushed your collarbone, “that you’re gonna go to his bed—naked, hm?”

You stuttered, “I—I wasn’t actually—“ 

Jay smirked, an attractive chuckle leaving his lips, “right answer, baby.”

He dragged the blanket back over all three of you and collapsed beside you with a satisfied hum, pressing his hand to your stomach again—higher this time.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Jake’s hand was back too, fingers gliding down your inner thigh now, warm and unbothered, “next time, just ask for attention, yeah?”

You let out a shaky laugh, body warm, “you two are impossible.”

“You love it,” they said in unison.

You groaned and covered your face with the blanket, but under it, you were burning.

And their hands? Absolutely everywhere, holding you down with a strong sense of possessiveness.

Oh, you were so in trouble. 

THANK YOU FOR READING!

GO TO PART 2: HERE.

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[spencersmopbucket]

With the Devil | Remmick

Pairing: Remmick x Reader Summary: Mama and Daddy had always taught you not to let evil into your mind — but they'd never taught you how not to fall in love with the devil.

Themes & Warnings: corruption, smut, oral (fem receiving), mentions of religion, vampire:))))))

IDC REMMICK IS SO HOT

You were perfect. That's what Mama always told you — you'd had it ingrained into your mind since you were just a baby. You were beautiful, you were kind, you were faithful.

Your Mama was a medicine woman. Your daddy was the town preacher. And you, their little girl, were the most eligible bachelorette in the town of Clarksdale. Your wild, curly hair was always pinned back, nails always painted, lips always glossed. You dressed cleanly and modestly. Your dark, unmarred skin was luminous and moisturized, allowing you a glow that was incomparable to any other girl your age.

You were never late to school. You never spent too much time talking to the boys. You prayed every night, stocking-clad knees on the wood floor, whispering softly.

You always imagined, with the help of your parents, a husband. Firm and kind, with a straight white smile and clean hands. A businessman, maybe. A man that frequented church. Nothing like them dogs every other woman raved about.

The thought of them made you scoff.

When you thought of marriage, you thought of what your Mama and Daddy had coached you.

Until you met him.

Your undoing. Your downfall. Your sin.

You saw him first on a Thursday. The air was heavy with summer and sin — one of those Mississippi nights that made the cotton stick to your skin and the devil’s whisper easier to hear. The juke was loud, pulsing with laughter and music you weren’t allowed to dance to. But you stood just outside it, waiting for your older friend to finish flirting with the barkeep, your Bible clutched to your chest like armor.

That’s when you felt it. Not saw — felt. A presence. Ancient. Unholy. Beautiful. Dangerous, above all else.

He was leaning against the fence, dressed like a man who had nowhere to be and no one to answer to. A shirt too fine for the Delta heat. Eyes that glowed red beneath the brim of a black hat. And a grin — slow and sharp — like he knew exactly how you’d taste when you broke.

He didn’t belong in Clarksdale — not with the dust of this town on his boots, not with the way his eyes burned like coals under moonlight. And yet, he leaned there like he’d been born of the very land, like the shadows curled around his boots to rest.

His gaze slid to you. Slow. Deliberate.

“Evenin’, dove,” he said, his voice warm and rough, touched by that unmistakable lilt — like poetry slurred in whiskey. “Bit far from the chapel, aren’t ya?”

You clutched your Bible tighter, the leather cover slick against your palms. You were taught to fear the devil. No one told you he’d look at you like that. Like you were temptation.

“I’m waiting on someone,” you managed, your voice barely audible.

He smiled at that — not kindly. No. It was indulgent. Knowing.

“Oh, I can see that,” he said, pushing off the fence with the kind of lazy grace that made the air tighten. “Tell me, do all the good girls carry scripture like a shield?”

Your throat went dry. You opened your mouth — to quote something, maybe, to say something about God’s protection, or how you weren’t interested — but the words stuck. Because he was close now, and the scent of him was thick with smoke and cedar and something sweet beneath it all. Not perfume. Not cologne. Something unnatural. Something wrong.

“Relax,” he murmured, eyes trailing across your face like a caress. “Ain’t come to hurt you.”

You didn’t believe him. But you wanted to.

“Who are you?” you asked, breathless.

He touched the brim of his hat, the red in his eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

“Remmick.”

The name hit the air like a curse.

Your stomach sank. You’d heard it before. Old wives whispered it over boiling pots and under their breath in the graveyard. They said Remmick had danced with witches and kissed the mouths of holy women. Said he’d killed everyone in the Smokestack juke joint in 1932 and made an army of the dead. You'd always thought he was just a scary story, just a wives tale. He didn't exist. He couldn't.

Vampires weren't real.

Your mama once told you never to say his name aloud. That if you said it, he’d know. But you hadn’t said it. He had. And still — he looked at you like he’d known you your whole life.

Like he’d been waiting.

His smirk curled around his lips, like a snake up a vine.

"We'll see each other again, lovely dove. I swear it. Get home safe now." He said, his Irish brogue evident.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. Your feet were rooted to the ground like the Magnolia trees your mama prayed under. The juke's laughter turned to static in your ears, the cicadas buzzed too loud, and the warm wind brushed past your dress like a warning.

Remmick tipped his hat a little lower, and just like that — he was gone.

Not walked away. Not turned and faded. Gone.

The air rushed back into your lungs, sharp and stinging, like it had been waiting too long to fill you. You looked around — no sign of him. Just the night, heavy and wet with the scent of honeysuckle and trouble.

Your older friend reappeared a few minutes later, giggling and smelling like bourbon, none the wiser. “You alright, sugar?” she asked, fanning herself. “You look like you seen a ghost.”

You shook your head. “N-no. I’m fine.” But you weren’t.

Because you walked home clutching that Bible like it could still save you — but your fingers trembled, and your mind reeled, and somewhere deep in your chest, your heart had started to ache.

And worse than that… A part of you hoped he really would come back.

You knew you were done for, just like you'd heard in all of the wives tales. Once Remmick chose you, it crept in like a secret, hushed words in the back of your mind. He slowly ate you alive until all that was left was sin.

The nights after that first meeting grew darker, heavier. You tried to hold onto what Mama and Daddy taught you — faith, purity, the promise of salvation — but every shadow seemed to whisper his name. Every breeze carried the ghost of his voice, low and honeyed, calling you closer.

You found yourself drawn to places you never would’ve dared before: the cracked sidewalks under flickering streetlamps, the edges of the cotton fields where the cicadas sang their mournful song. And always, there was that ache — a hunger that wasn’t just physical, but something deeper, darker.

Remmick’s presence slithered through your thoughts like a poison and a balm all at once. You were afraid, but you were enthralled. His sin was infectious, but it felt like home.

You didn’t want to admit it. But you were already his.

And with every secret moment stolen beneath the moon’s watchful gaze, the old you slipped away, unraveling like a thread in a worn quilt.

Mama’s prayers echoed in your mind, fragile and fading, as you whispered into the night:

“Lord, save me…” But even as the words left your lips, you knew.

You were lost. And loving every breath of it.

The next time you saw Remmick, you were lying in bed. This night was worse than the others — you couldn't sleep. It evaded you. You sweat into your sheets, twisted around your legs as you tossed and turned.

You could feel him. Inside of you. In your chest, in your head, calling out to you.

Your heart hammered like a drumbeat in the quiet dark, matching the rhythm of the whisper curling through your thoughts. You dared not speak his name aloud — Mama’s warning still burned in your memory— but the pull was undeniable, a silent siren song that rooted you to the bed, torn between fear and craving.

Then, as if summoned by your unspoken plea, a shadow slipped through the cracked window, sliding across your room like liquid smoke. Remmick.

His eyes, red embers glowing softly in the moonlight, fixed on you with a hunger that was both fierce and gentle, like he was seeing through to the very soul you fought to protect.

“Restless, dove?” He smirked in amusement. You straightened, your muscles tense under his gaze. You were scared, yes. But you couldn’t ignore the creeping satisfaction under your skin.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

He stepped closer to the bed, ancient hands running along your cotton sheets. You watched, biting your lip.

“Strugglin’ so hard to sleep. Because of me. Yet you won’t so much as whisper my name.” He said, his voice honey soaked. He was designed to be alluring. It’s how he caught his prey, how he claimed all those lives decades ago.

He leaned in closer, his frame casting a long shadow over your bed, his fingers ghosting over the sheets like he was memorizing the shape of your restlessness. The scent of him —earthy, metallic, something older than blood and fire — curled in your nose and made your breath hitch.

“You’re afraid that sayin’ it will make this real,” he murmured, voice low enough to pass for a dream. “But you know better, dove. This was real the moment I saw you. The moment you looked back.”

Your throat was dry, your heart pounding like a trapped bird inside your chest. You could still feel the weight of your Mama’s cross necklace at your collarbone, tucked beneath the lace of your nightdress. But even that holy pressure couldn’t stop the heat curling in your belly at his nearness.

Remmick’s lips quirked higher at your silence, his gaze dark with something ancient, possessive. “You keep prayin’,” he said, brushing the edge of your pillow, “but deep down, you don’t want to be saved.”

You flinched at the truth of it.

He laughed, soft and slow, like he’d just caught a fish on the line.

“There it is,” he whispered, kneeling beside your bed, his face inches from yours now. “That feeling in your guts… That’s not fear, is it?”

Your squeezed your eyes closed, laying back.

“Leave, devil.” You whispered back, holding onto the last few bits of restraint you had.

Remmick didn’t move.

He hovered there beside your bed, his breath brushing your cheek like the breeze before a storm, thick with static and promise.

“Now why would I do that,” he said softly, voice curling around the edges of your will, “when you called me here?”

Your eyes flew open.

“I didn’t—”

“Oh, but you did,” he interrupted, with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Every night you twist in those sheets, whispering into the dark. Every time you dream of fire and teeth and touch. That’s a prayer too. Just not the kind your mama taught you.”

You turned your face away, jaw clenched, but your body betrayed you — heat rising, breath catching.

He leaned in closer, his voice a sinful hymn against your ear.

“Say my name,” he coaxed. “Just once. Let it taste your tongue. You’ll feel better. I promise.”

The devil’s hand rested just beside your head, not quite touching you — but you swore you could feel the chill of it down to your bones.

And God help you…

You wanted to.

His voice was velvet-drenched sin, a low murmur that made the air around you hum.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered again, and this time, there was something darker in it — not just coaxing, but claiming. His fingers finally brushed your cheek, light as a ghost, burning like a brand. “Let me in. Say my name, hm?”

You should’ve screamed. You should’ve prayed.

Instead, you turned your head back toward him, lips parted, breath trembling. Your soul stood on the edge of something vast and terrible — but it didn’t want to step back.

“Remmick,” you breathed, soft as a confession.

The effect was immediate.

His smile deepened into something hungry, almost reverent. Like he’d waited a century just to hear your voice say it.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, dragging the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. “Took you long enough.”

And with that, the last of your restraint crumbled — and the devil stepped through the door you’d just opened.

Before you could second-guess yourself, his lips crashed against yours.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was desperate, searing, like a man starved of something he’d been craving for far too long. His hand slid into your hair, fingers curling tight as he pulled you closer, devouring every soft sound that left your throat. His mouth tasted like smoke and blood and something impossibly sweet. Something addictive.

Your body arched before you even realized it, your hands clinging to the front of his shirt, as if you could tether yourself to the storm he brought with him.

He groaned into the kiss, a low, guttural sound that rumbled from his chest, and the bed creaked beneath his weight as he pushed closer. His other hand found your waist, dragging you against him like he had every right to.

“Good, good girl,” he rasped, voice thick with satisfaction as his thumb brushed the corner of your kiss-swollen mouth. His eyes burned like embers in the dark. “Mine now.”

His grip on your waist tightened, possessive, unyielding — not cruel, but claiming. Worshipful in a way that felt far more dangerous than hate ever could.

“No god can take you back.”

The words slithered into your soul, final and eternal. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t pray. You didn’t run.

Because in that moment — half-wrapped in cotton sheets and sin, heart thudding in time with the devil’s touch — you knew he was right.

You belonged to him.

And you didn’t want to be saved.

His hand quickly found your nightgown, and before you knew it:

Riiiip.

You wore nothing underneath. Your body was exposed to him completely, glistening with the sweat of a sleepless night, the slight fear he induced, the anticipation. His eyes traced your body predatorily, his tongue swiping his lip.

He hovered above you, gaze searing as it drank in every inch of bare skin, your breath shallow beneath him. The heat between you was suffocating — not just from the summer air, but from the charged silence, the pull of something ancient and forbidden threading itself through every heartbeat.

“Look at you,” Remmick murmured, voice low and reverent, almost mocking in its tenderness. “Waitin’ for me. Not a prayer in that pretty little head. What would Mama and Daddy think? Hm?”

He grinned as he said it, knowing the answer didn’t matter. His fingers ghosted over your collarbone, then lower, savoring the way you trembled — not just from fear, but from surrender.

“You were their pride,” he went on, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Now look at you… Writhin’ in sin for the devil himself.”

Your breath hitched, shame and desire tangling somewhere deep in your chest. His name nearly slipped from your lips again, and he heard it — felt it — in the way your body arched, in the pulse pounding at your throat.

Remmick chuckled darkly. “Good girl.”

His voice was velvet, soaked in smoke.

“‘S alright. I’m gonna make it all better now,” Remmick purred, his accent curling around the words like smoke.

His hand slid behind your neck, tilting your head gently, like you were something delicate — precious, even. His touch was warm, reverent, wicked. Everything about him was temptation draped in silk and shadow.

His mouth was hot — too hot — like the kiss of summer lightning right before a storm breaks. Wet, slow, deliberate. He mouthed at the base of your throat, then dragged his lips to your pulse, leaving kisses that were more like claims than affection. Another. Then another. Each one messier, hungrier, until your skin buzzed beneath the heat of him, your breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.

“What a pretty noise, baby. Keep ’em comin’,” Remmick murmured, his voice curling around your ear like smoke, smug and sinful.

His mouth never left your skin and he chased every sound you made like it was his favorite hymn, each whimper and gasp a confession. His fingers gripped your hips with just enough pressure to remind you who was in control, and his teeth scraped lightly at your throat, not biting — not yet — just warning.

“Don’t hold back on me now,” he rasped, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I want all of it. Every sound you’ve been too good to make. Every little song you swallowed when it was just you and your fingers at night.”

Your breath hitched, caught between the need to resist and the desperate want to surrender. His words wrapped around you like a dark lullaby, drawing out every hidden desire you thought you’d buried deep.

“Remmick..” you moaned.

His smile deepened, sharp and possessive. “That’s it, baby. Say my name like you mean it.”

His fingers traveled towards where you burned the brightest, where his attention was most needed. You whimpered, your hips bucking involuntarily, exposing all the sinful thoughts that hid themselves so far back in your mind.

His thumb traced the wet folds. You gasped.

“There, there. I’ve gotcha.”

You could’ve cried as he sunk down on the bed, pulling your sticky thighs apart. He licked his lips, looking at the glistening scene between your legs.

“Gonna ruin you. And yer gonna thank me, sweet girl.”

You shivered under his touch, every nerve in your body accepting its fate. You no longer wanted to resist. There wasn’t an inkling of it. The devil had claimed you.

And you were already his willing captive.

His tongue met your pussy, licking a warm, wet stripe onto the center. You mewled, your legs involuntarily closing, but he forced them back open with a dark, warning look.

He leaned back in again, wrapping his lips around your needy bud, lapping it with his tongue and then sucking. You moaned, your hand on autopilot, coming down to wrap each finger into his thick, messy hair.

“Remmick!”

You felt him literally grin into your cunt, releasing a lewd sound as he slurped another firm suck, making you twitch.

His tongue worked wonders, exploring every fold, tracing every contour. Your eyes rolled back into your head as he worked, lewd, wet sounds filling your room.

He came back off, his mouth glistening.

“Where’s your God now? This pretty pussy has never belonged to anyone but Remmick. It always has.”

With that, he gathered spit into his mouth, dropping it onto your drenched cunt. Using his tongue, he spread the warm substance around, painting your pussy with saliva.

Then, he delivered the crushing blow.

One more suck on your clit, giving you just enough pressure.

Your back arched, stars filled your vision, and you let out a languid moan. He chuckled into your cunt, letting you ride his face all the way through your orgasm.

When he was done, he pulled away. A string of spit and cum pulled away with him. He wiped it with his hand, sucking it from his fingers in a sinful show.

You laid, exhausted, chest heaving. You’d never experienced something like that before. You’d cum, yes, the only thing about your life you’d hidden from your parents. But it was never like that. Never that electric. And for once, you didn’t even feel guilty.

Remmick was growing on you.

Sensing your exhaustion, he hummed. “I haven’t much time ‘til sunrise, dove. But I’ll let ya get a peaceful sleep for a moment.”

He laid down next to you. You froze at first, confusion written on your face. But as if he had calming powers, you eased almost immediately, his scent filling your nose and his presence melting your fear away. This wasn’t normal. This was adjustment to sin. Adjustment to the devil. But you couldn’t much care right now.

Remmick shifted closer, his hand sliding beneath the sheets to rest just above your hip, possessive and protective all at once. You shouldn’t have felt safe — not in the arms of something whispered about in church warnings and graveyard stories — but you did. Terrifyingly so.

His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, and you let yourself match it. He wasn’t human. He wasn’t righteous. He wasn’t even good.

But he was yours now.

His words dripped like warm molasses in your ear, thick and saccharine, laced with something darker.

“Waited for ya for ages. Decades,” Remmick whispered, curling around you like smoke, his fingers tracing invisible promises along your spine. “A beautiful bride, you’ll make.”

You shivered, not from fear — not anymore — but from something ancient stirring in your bones. Something that recognized him. Something that belonged to him.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

But you didn’t pull away.

“Sleep. I won’t be here when ya wake, but.. when night falls, you can always call my name.”

[mydearzero]

It's Not Just About The Hair | Dark!Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x Reader

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You were only meant to dye one guy's hair and get out. How'd you get tangled into this mess? The shadows are creeping and taking over his body, while he is slowly taking over yours.

Contents: NON/DUB-CON, NO Y/N, afab!Reader, reader has hair that is long enough to grip, smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, filming, exhibitionism, sex against the window, choking, coming inside, no aftercare, if I missed any warnings please let me know!

3.3K words

uhm so this is not really for the faint hearted sorry not sorry I needed this off my chest. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION PLEASE!!

You should’ve left as soon as your job was done. You should’ve stayed out of Val’s way after she was done with you. Why had you lingered?? 

Okay, maybe you were curious. Could anybody blame you? It’s not every day you get called out to the former Stark/Avengers Tower to dye one dude’s hair for a ridiculous amount of money. Hey, maybe she’d want a touch-up, herself? 

So here you were, hiding under the counter of a bar, waiting for the fighting to be over. The big red guy had already been thrown against the wall you were opposite of. It would only be a matter of time before somebody discovered your hiding place. You were peeking through the crack between the counter and the base of the bar to find a good time to run. 

You saw the young blonde run at Sentry, wrapping her legs around him and tasing his neck. Sentry flew himself to the roof, crushing her against it and dropping her to the floor. Sentry was attacked by the masked woman, along with the knockoff Captain America. 

Red Guardian picked up a barstool, preparing to throw it at Sentry, who’s name was apparently Bob, short for Robert. The guy who’s hair you’d just dyed. So not worth the money. Alexei ran to throw the stool, but was cut off when Sentry ripped the entirety of the bar off the floor and threw it against him. 

Fuck. The countertop had been ripped straight from your fingertips. Parts of the base had cut your fingers, neck and face where it had been roughly yanked out of the floor. 

While the others were distracted, still fighting, you ran behind the next best thing, the column of the stairs. You tried to catch your breath and prayed to whichever god would listen that nobody had seen you. You didn’t dare look at the sound of more commotion. You heard several punches, before they were interrupted by the sound of a mechanical malfunction and bending of metal. Bucky’s metal arm had been ripped straight off him, hit him in his own face and thrown behind him like a piece of garbage. 

The vigilante’s quickly went for the elevator, but not before Val came back from wherever she’d been hiding to give them a monologue. “I’m so glad you were able to catch a glimpse before your, uh, retirement.” 

“Camera crews are assembling. Finish the job, Robert.” Val instructs. You hear the elevator doors close. 

“Finish the job? No.” Robert replied. 

“What?” 

“They’re not a threat to me, so, why do I need to kill them?” 

“You need to do what I say, Robert.” Val’s tone was threatening. 

“Why?” 

“WHY?” Val sounded appalled that he’d even dare ask. 

They argued some more. You looked around for an exit, but besides the elevator, your only hope would be the very open stairs they’d no doubt see you on. You could only hope they’d leave sometime soon so you could get the hell out of there. 

“It needs to be more of a collaboration. The hair for example. Maybe I should’ve had more say.” 

“Don’t let those idiots get in your head. The blonde is great.” Thank you, Val, I did the best I could. 

“You sure? I don’t know, I thought I liked it but now I’m not so sure.” 

“That’s enough about the hair.” 

“It’s not just about the hair.” 

“Well you keep talking about the hair.” 

“No it’s everything! My suit, my name, my missions, I mean.. Why would a god take orders from anyone at all?” 

“I think you’re throwing around the word ‘god’ a bit loosely there.” 

“No, no, because you said I was all powerful, invincible and stronger than a whole team of Avengers, which includes at least one god, so..” Robert trailed off, letting Val fill in the blanks. 

“But I’m starting to think, maybe, you don’t know what I am,” he spoke when she didn’t reply. His words were laced with an underlying tone of malice. 

“Oh, goddamnit” Val spoke under her breath. 

“Or what I’m capable of. Maybe I need to show you.” 

“This is SO… irritating.” Val clicks something behind her back, but it doesn’t seem to work. Sentry grabs her by the throat and flies her against the wall. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a gasp. 

“You were gonna turn on me. Just like the rest of them.” 

“I’m not afraid of you, Robert.” 

You see Mel creeping towards them. She sees you, too. She looks confused at your presence, but doesn’t have time to worry about it right now. 

“It’s not Robert you need to be afraid of.” Sentry says as he starts choking Val tighter. Mel picks up whatever Val was holding and points it to the man basked in gold, clicking it in desperation. Sentry immediately falls to the floor, in turn dropping Val. 

“Good girl.” Val says as she sees Mel. “ You came to your senses. Come here help me up.” Mel helps Val off the floor and they scurry away. Mel sends you one last look before deciding it’s not worth her time to worry about you. 

“I want a raise,” Mel says as they walk to the elevator. “Okay, fine. Get cleanup on the body and tell Holt it’s finally time to go lethal on these losers.” The elevator leaves and suddenly, the penthouse is awfully quiet. 

You count to 10 before deciding it’s safe to leave. Cleanup would be here soon and you did not want to be stuck here any longer. You crept towards the elevator, hoping Val and Mel had gone down far enough you wouldn’t run into them again. 

Just as you’re about to press the button for the elevator, your phone buzzes with a notification. 

Bought you some time to get out. Cleanup won’t be there for at least 20 minutes. Get out NOW. 

It was Mel. Fucking Mel who’d roped you into this in the first place. It’s easy money, she’d said. One bleach job + I’ll owe you, her texts had read. Yeah, right. 

Before you’d had the chance to put your phone away there was a deathly grip on your shoulder. You tensed and slowly turned to look at its owner, who you’d up until now presumed to be dead. 

  You gave him a quick once over. His eyes were glowing. You couldn’t read the expression on his face. Shadows seemed to be gathering at his feet, ever so slowly creeping up his skin. He brought his other hand up to your other shoulder, turning you to face him. Your knees trembled as you tried to stand still, every nerve in your body yelling at you to RUN. There was something wrong with him. You weren’t a threat. Hadn’t he just used that excuse to not go after the others? 

His right hand slowly went down to your waist, his left traced your shoulder up to your neck. As soon as his bare hand made contact with your skin, no longer on your shirt, you were doused in a memory.  A horrible memory from your past that rattled you to your bones, leaving you breathless. 

No time seemed to have passed as he held you tightly, grip likely bruising. “Where is she?” Sentry spoke for the first time. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything, I’m not even supposed to be here,” you stammered. 

“Don’t LIE to me,” Robert yelled, making you flinch. “You work for her. For Val. Now tell me where she went.” 

“I promise, I don’t work for her. It was just a one off thing. I don’t know where she went!” His fingers slowly traced to the other side of your neck, encircling it with his hand. He brought his face closer to yours, inhaling deeply. He let go of your waist to brush your hair away from your face and leaned in to whisper in your ear. 

“You’re gonna regret lying to me. Val might’ve gotten away, but I’ll show her, show you exactly what I can do.” His grip on your throat tightened, cutting off your air supply. Your hands shot up to his wrist, clawing at it to get it off. 

A dark chuckle left his lips, the shadows still slowly creeping up his thighs. You tried kicking at him to get him to let go, but it was useless. “I’m not… with… Val…” you managed to choke out. 

“Did she or did she not pay you to change up my look? I think that’s the basic definition of working for someone, don’t you?” He loosened his grip on your throat, moving to hold your chin and run his thumb over your bottom lip as you tried to catch your breath. There was a hunger in his gaze that hadn’t been there before. 

“I wasn’t this strong before,” he mumbled. He fisted your hair and tugged it your head backwards harshly. 

“I like how it feels. The strength, I mean. I can see why people get addicted to power.” You had no choice but to look him in the eyes, his grip on your hair unrelenting. His other hand went back to your waist as he tugged your body against his. The hard metal of his belt dug into your skin. He brought his lips to your neck, mouthing at your jugular. You squeezed your eyes shut, begging for someone to come in and save you. 

He was losing himself, losing control. The shadow had made its way to his waist, creeping higher and higher the longer he held you. You could only help it stopped once it had consumed him, leaving you be. It couldn’t be anything good.

He let go of your hair, bringing both hands to your hips and sliding them up your shirt. You froze, holding your breath and waiting for his next move. Surely, he wouldn’t. 

His hands moved higher. He started peppering kisses on your neck, feeling your heightened pulse under his lips. You tried putting your hands on his chest and pushing him away. “Stop, please.” 

“I don’t think I will,” he groaned into your skin. With a flash your back met the wall harshly, head hitting the concrete. His hands cupped your breasts over your bra, his mouth kissing up to your chin. The shadow had reached his chest now. It wouldn’t be long before it would take over his entire body. 

For a second you felt relieved as Robert pulled away, only for it to disappear when you realised he’d done it to rip your shirt from your body. “Robert.. It’s Robert right? Or do you prefer Bob? Please let’s just talk about this.”

He ignored your pleas and went back to ravaging your neck, leaving bruises down to your chest. His hands fumbled with your bottoms, but he quickly lost patience and ripped those, too. You were only left in your shoes and underwear, pleading with him to just talk. 

“I’m not going to talk. I’ll show you. Prove to the world that I’m a god.” He held you close as he flew to the wall of windows overlooking the city. He pushed you against the window, breasts squishing against the glass with the force he was using. 

“Stop, Bob, STOP! Somebody is gonna see!” You tried pulling your body away from the glass. 

“Sweetheart… That’s the point,” he laughed darkly. “Let them see. Let them see what I can do to anybody who gets in my way, who dares to tell me what to do.” He unclasped your bra and pulled it from between your body and the glass. You tried putting your hands in front of your chest, but his hands grabbed your wrists and tugged them behind your back. 

Your mind was reeling with confusion as both of his hands returned to your body, yet you were unable to move yours away from your back. He put his fingers down your underwear and you thrashed your legs to try and get them out. He kicked your legs apart, placing his feet besides yours so you couldn’t close them. He took your hands and placed them above your head against the glass. You wanted to close your eyes, but something was holding you back. You could only watch through the window and see the slight reflection of his golden suit behind you. If you could be glad for only one thing in that moment, it was the fact you were at the top of the tallest building in New York. The likelihood of someone actually seeing was small. 

He tugged at your underwear and you could feel them strain against your hips. He was playing with you. He could’ve easily ripped them, but he wanted you to feel them rub against you before he did so. He tugged them up, the seam putting pressure against your clit. You let out a surprised whimper. “Robert, please. Stop this.” 

The only response you got was the eventual ripping of your underwear, relieving you of the pressure, but leaving you completely naked between his body and the window. He moved behind you, the noise of fabric rustling meeting your ears.

His hands roamed over your trembling body freely, making himself familiar with every dip and curve. They settled on your hips, pulling them backwards and arching your back. You flushed impossibly redder as it made your boobs press against the window even more, obscenely on display for anybody high up enough to witness. 

You felt it, then. His length settled between the cheeks of your ass. He took it in his hand and slowly slid it between your folds. 

“So afraid… Yet so, so wet for me.” 

You wanted to deny it. Tell him to get off and leave you be. But he wouldn’t, anyway. He was right. You were somehow soaked. 

The invisible grip on your hands disappeared, allowing you to lower them and put them flat against the window. You tried pushing off the window once again, even when you knew he wouldn’t budge. 

“Don’t move,” Robert threatened. You turned your face on instinct to look at him. You could only catch a glimpse of total darkness over your shoulder before his hand forced your head to face the window once more. 

“You’ll understand soon enough,” he mumbled incoherently. 

He took himself in his hand and slowly pushed his cock inside. Without any preparation, the intrusion was tight. You winced as he didn’t pause but took his time stretching you on every inch. He exhaled loudly and chuckled when you gasped as he bottomed out. 

He put his hands on your hips and tugged you back against him as far as you could, skin against skin. He pushed you back against the window slowly, his length leaving you as he pulled his hips back. He went so slow it drove you insane. He pulled out fully, stepping back to look at you shaking against the window, not daring to step away or look back. It was only then you’d noticed all the lights in the penthouse had gone out. 

As his hands returned to your body, so did his dick. He set a gruelling pace, pulling your hips against his own. Heat burned in your core. 

“So good. See how good it can be when I’m the one in charge?”

You didn’t know how to answer, so you kept quiet. A slap to your ass informed you that was the wrong choice. “Answer me,” he groaned. 

You yelped at the impact before nodding. He grabbed your hair again, bending your neck as far as it could go without snapping. He continued thrusting as he corrected your behaviour. “I said answer me. Now with your words.” 

“Yes!” you managed to get past your lips. Now actual vocal sounds had left your throat, you couldn’t seem to stop. Moans slowly escaped, even when you tried to hold them in. 

“There you go, attagirl.” He released his grip on your hair, choosing to squeeze his hands between the glass to grasp your tits as he fucked you. He used this hold on you as leverage to move faster. He pulled your back against him and pushed both of your bodies against the window. His fingers were cold, so cold as they toyed with your nipples. Must be a side effect of the shadow. 

A low, breathy laugh hit your ears. Your eyes darted around to see why. You looked down at one of the other buildings and saw why he was laughing. Two guys, pointing, one of them recording the whole ordeal. You came back to your senses, once more struggling against his grip and fighting the pleasure. 

“Stop! They’re recording, let me go!” you whined, but even to your own ears it somehow didn’t sound as convincing as it had in your head. The breathless and whiny tone of your voice was contradicting whatever you said. 

“Good, soon the whole world will know about me. And nobody will tell me what to do,” Robert moaned. “Not anymore.” 

You were mortified to find you were getting close. Your fingers clawed at the window, trying to find anything to grip tight as your body was slowly overtaken with pleasure. You bit your lip and felt your eyes well up with tears. 

“Fuck… Maybe I should keep you around…” Bob moaned. “Show you off like a token of my power.” 

You wanted to come up with an answer, to defy him. “Ah- Please,” was all that would come out. What you were pleading for? Even you weren’t sure. 

One of his hands wrapped around your throat, cutting off the oxygen as he held it tight. Your ears rang as you struggled to breathe, blood rushing to your head. 

“Tell me I’m your god,” he grunted. His cock hit the right place again, and again and again. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as your orgasm approached. 

“Say. It.” He emphasised the words with sharp thrusts. 

“God,” you stumbled. “You… You’re my god… Fuck.” 

“One more time, like you mean it,” he teased. “Hmm and I know you mean it by the way you’re clenching on my cock.” 

You couldn’t utter the words, your mind jumbled as he toyed with your breath and pleasure. 

“Too stupid on my cock to even speak,” The Void laughed. He moved his other hand down your front, moving down until he found the missing piece to make you break. 

“Come for me, come for your god,” he demanded as he matched the rhythm of his fingers on your clit to that of his dick. Your hips moved of their own volition, chasing the high. 

His pace stuttered, his thrust going impossibly deep as he came inside of you. It sent you over the edge, all your muscles tightening and knees sinking as pleasure overtook your body. You’d never come so hard in your life. The only thing keeping you standing was him as the aftershocks of your orgasm worked their way through your body. 

He slowly pulled out and you were finally able to turn around and take him in. His features were mostly invisible, except for the eyes. They were still glowing. 

“You should thank me, you know. For allowing you to feel what true power feels like.” 

“Thank you,” you sobbed out, defeatedly sinking to the floor. The Void flew through the broken window he’d sent one of the ‘Thunderbolts’ through, flying above the city to slowly spread his shadows. All the while you could still feel the warm liquid spilling from inside you and dripping onto the floor. 

You only had a few seconds to make yourself scarce before a team of men clad in black with guns stormed out of the elevator. You’d scrambled together the remnants of your clothes and locked yourself in a bathroom, before suddenly you were dipped back into the darkness of your worst memories, just like the rest of New York would soon be. 

[st7rnioioss]

۶ৎ HANDYMAN!CHRIS x NEIGHBOR!READER

neighbor!reader getting back at handyman!chris after he stole her underwear..

˚𝜗𝜚 warnings... mentions of masturbation (m), swearing

the soft sound of your feet padding across the floor was the only thing that could be heard as you opened your front door, and stepped outside. keeping the door open, you took one or two steps onto chris’s doormat, knocking three times on the door.

waiting patiently, the cold breeze from the staircase gently blew by you, leaving a small trail of goosebumps. suddenly, almost messily with a faint ‘fuck!’ behind the door, it flew open.

your eyes met chris’s, before they trailed down his form. he was wearing a white tank top, along with grey sweatpants. his hair was tousled, and you could tell he hadn’t shaved in a couple days. “oh- hey there,” he then spoke with a gruff voice, rubbing his eye. it left you to wonder if you’d just woken him up, but that made no difference.

“hi, chris. um- i was just wondering if you could help me with the sink? it’s, um, well. it’s rather messed up,” you smiled with a soft voice, pointing over your shoulder to motion for your apartment. “i mean, if you’re not in a hurry or anything.”

he definitely wasn’t. he’d just been woken up by your knocking, almost shocked when he saw your pretty face ask for help.

“uh- yeah. sure, it’s not problem. i’ll just go get a few things.. just wait inside, you uh- you must be cold,” yeah, he knew you were cold from the way his eyes trailed down to your hardened nipples beneath the tank top you had on. his eyes trailed back up to your face, offering you a smile before he turned back around to find whatever he needed.

returning the smile, you went back inside, leaving the door open for him. no, the sink wasn’t broken. the sink actually worked perfectly fine for that matter. you just wanted to see chris, who’d snooped through your underwear, so what else could you do than loosen the pipes a little?

not long after, chris stepped into your apartment, closing the door behind him. you returned from the bathroom, giving him a small wave. “come on, it’s in the bathroom. there’s, like, a wet mess under the sink,” you said while walking him to the bathroom, before you both stepped inside.

“oh, yeah. that’s not a problem, it’ll only take a second,” his eyes flickered from the wet stain back to your eyes, while you just nodded, acting completely dumb and clueless. “thank you!” you chirped, watching him awkwardly fit under the counter, just like you’d done prior.

while he worked on the pipe, you chitchatted. he explained that his door was acting up, and you were confused as to why he didn’t just fix it—he knew so much anyway. you talked about your studies and how boring university is, while chris spoke about his business,

“have you also.. lost some clothes?” you said with a smirk, that he couldn’t see, leaning against the counter. you knew exactly where those panties you lost a week ago had gone—chris’s pocket. immediately he went flushed, which you also couldn’t see. thank god for that.

“um, no. uh- not really. ma-maybe, like, a sock?” he lied straight through his teeth, well aware of the panties he had sneaked out of your laundry basket and later fisted around his cock.

“but um- no. nothing other than that. it’s odd,” he muttered, getting back up from under the counter. “yeah, it’s odd.. well, it’s whatever. thank you again!” you smiled at him again, meeting his eyes in a form of unannounced stare contest, that he then broke off.

“it’s no problem. just- just give me a call if you have any other problems,” he rubbed the back of his neck, praying that the pink tint had worn off his cheeks. it hadn’t.

more neighbor!reader x handyman!chris here!

۶ৎ taglist: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn @loveparqdise @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills @sturnsmia @hearts4werka @cayleeuhithinknott @strnilolover @sturnvxz @lovergirl4gracieabrams @ifwdominicfike @toftomgmf @emely9274 @sturnioloangell @blushsturns

© ST7RNIOIOSS est. 2023

[consciouscarrot]

strange pains | remus lupin

remus lupin x fem!reader

cw; abuse of power (doctor x patient), (much less) innocence kink, dub/con, vaginal fingering, p in v, oral (r!receiving), kisses (eek), blasphemy and god stuff, tiny tiny bit sad in places (poor reader is so sweet), rem is possessive (<3), implied daddy kink at the end, one use of y/n

notes; pt two of this fic for my lovely anon <3 thank you so very much for your patience

main m.list

your second appointment with dr lupin came quickly, having spent the past two days obsessively thinking about your doctor and the way he made you feel.

you still half considered confessing to your priest, feeling sinful for the way you clearly took advantage of the man who was only trying to help you, coming undone from his touch in a way that felt too good to be proper. instead of talking to your priest, something that would most likely end up in you being disowned and kicked out of the church, you decided to apologise when you next saw dr lupin. that way, you could atone and hopefully earn his forgiveness.

just before 6pm, you walked into the waiting room, repeating the words you’d planned to say in your head. however, at the sight of dr lupin stood at the receptionist’s desk, eyes locked on you as he slowly smiled, causing you to stumble slightly and your mind to go completely blank, so much for apologising.

“careful, sweetheart. i need you in one piece,” strong arms wrapped around you, lingering as to make sure you weren’t going to fall again.

you flushed, his head ducking down to meet your eyes when you let you head fall forwards. you whined quietly, too mortified to speak, he rubbed at your lower back kindly, guiding you down the hallway to his office.

“go straight to the bed, honey. all your clothes off and put on the gown like last time, okay?”

you nodded meekly, turning away so you were unable to see the way remus’ eyes drifted over your bare form, having to adjust himself in his trousers at the way you delicately undressed and folded your clothes tidily on the chair.

he ‘turned around’ when you said he could, snapping on his gloves before easing your feet into the stirrups and locking them in, standing between your naked legs.

“how have you been the last couple of days? any changes at all?”

you can barely think at the way his hands massaged at your legs, drifting up from your ankle towards your knee, slowly making his way up. you shifted your hips in a pathetic attempt to ease the tension, the ache deep in your belly starting up again.

“it was better when i left you, but it started up again just before bed that night, and it’s been worse ever since,” your cheeks flushed as memories flickered in your head of your last appointment, silently praying that he’d use that lovely tool attached to him again.

“oh dear, maybe i should start doing house calls with you. it sounds to me like you need some more regular attention, i’ll have a talk with your parents about it afterwards, sound good?”

his hands were now so close to your heat that you couldn’t focus, heat radiating from your body, nails digging into the bed as his fingertips grazed the edge of your cunt, teasing touches prompting you to buck your hips up.

“okay-,” you gasp sharply, his fingers finally making contact as he spreads open your pussy lips, gloves already thoroughly coated in your pooling arousal.

“you poor thing, it looks really swollen and painful right now. are you ready to start, dove? it’ll be just like last time.”

he grins at your eager nod, gliding the tip of his finger along your slit, just barely brushing over your sensitive pearl. you bit your lip, little teeth indents forming on the tender skin as you tried to hold in your noises, chest heaving beneath your dainty little cross necklace, the symbol of your devotion to something supposedly pure whilst doing something so sinful.

he gently pinched at the nub, chuckling when you flinched, head rolling back into the bed with a whine, “use your words.”

“yes please, i’m ready doctor lupin,”

“good girl,” remus hummed, pressing painfully slowly against your sopping hole, teasing touches making tears pool in your waterline, threatening to spill over. breathy moans escaped your pouting lips, hard nipples poking through the thin fabric of the medical gown. the material had slipped down your shoulders with all your wriggling, so close to exposing the soft flesh of your tits. he longed to tug it down properly, or to even rip it off fully, to make you reveal yourself to him, to lay there beneath him, vulnerable for only him.

he finally pushed inside, glistening slick coating your skin as his fingers slipped through, pumping unhurriedly in and out, sliding against that sweet spot that made you keen beneath him, back arched and eyes scrunched shut so tight that colours exploded behind your lids, such sweet moans escaping from chewed lips in the most beautiful song.

he couldn’t take his eyes off of you even if he tried, mesmerised by your movements and your mouth, almost desperate to see more of you, to make you his fully. he sped up his fingers, groaning loudly when the gown finally fell down enough to expose you to him. he had to fight to keep himself from cumming just from the sight of you. pebbled nipples arched up as the delicate flesh bounced with his motions.

you cried out, strings of mewls so pretty. he’d never heard anything as saccharine as you. you were already nearing your first orgasm of the night, thighs trembling as they tried to close themselves around him, restraints on your ankles the only thing holding you back. you writhed, hands clasping for anything to clutch onto, trying to push him away even though you needed him to keep going. it felt so good you thought you could die. you panted heavily, whining constantly until you went silent, mouth gaping as your eyes rolled back, shaking violently as you fell over the edge.

his digits pushed you through, prolonging your orgasm for as long as possible, before easing his fingers out with a lewd pop, blue gloves soaked with your creamy cum. you whined at the loss, feeling so empty and desperate for more, for him.

head cloudy with lingering pleasure, you opened you eyes, meeting his gaze as you tried your best to silently beg him to continue, body heavy with exhaustion despite the need already building back up deep inside of you. thankfully for your sanity, he took pity on you, smiling down at you as he removed his gloves, tossing them in the nearby bin before easing you to sit up.

he held your body close to his, and only then did you realise that your gown had slipped down, gasping at the feel of your ripples grazing against his shirt. you flushed, clinging to him as you tried to cover yourself up.

“hey, no, no- it’s okay, you can keep it down, even take it off, if you’d like. there’s things we can do to your breasts, and i think it would help your treatment a lot, if you’re up to it.”

he half expected you to say no, to find it far too inappropriate, already regretting taking the gamble when he’d lucked out with you; a patient so pretty and so innocent he could do whatever he wanted, and you enjoyed it.

“okay, i’ve just never- um,” you buried your face in his chest, so embarrassed and aroused. you found it strange that you wanted him to see you, you wanted to feel his eyes on your bare body. you wandered if this was a side effect of your illness, or something more.

remus nearly creamed his pants at that, already knowing it but hearing you say it out loud was- fuck. he muffled his involuntary groan into your hair, breathing in the ambrosial scent of your shampoo. “no one’s ever seen you like that?” he grinned when you nodded into his shirt, “oh poppet, that’s okay. more than okay, i’d be delighted to be the first.”

he eased your head away from him, cupping your jaw to tilt your head back, his hands engulfing your smaller face. your cheeks were rosy and skin was shining with the light sweat, lip snug between your teeth as you bit down, doe eyes looking up at him so innocently as your hands slid down from his chest to just above his belt, blissfully unaware of how much you were affecting him.

he spent a few moments just watching you, caressing your skin as he tried to make you more comfortable, eyes never leaving yours. he knew that he’d never cope without you, that there could never be anyone else after meeting you. he wasn’t sure how he could go about it, how to make things happen organically without alerting your parents to his malpractice, but he’d find out a way. there was no way he’d ever let you go.

“would you like me to help you undress?”

he raised a brow at your nod, praising you when you quickly corrected yourself and nervously spoke your consent. his fingers trailed up your arms, along and over your shoulders before meeting on your back, making your shiver as he untied the strings, careful not to catch any of your hair in the knots. the material slowly slid down your arms, and you pushed off the bed slightly as he pulled it from underneath you, letting it fall to the floor.

remus trailed his eyes over your form, taking in your even curve and dimple and imperfection. you sucked in a sharp breath when he made contact with your bare skin, hands tracing and squeezing, taking in every little detail. you arched into him when he cupped at your tits, feeling your cunt pulse at the way his palm covered you, thumb rubbing at your cross briefly before he flicked your nipple.

“my god, you’re breathtaking,”

you blanched slightly at the blasphemy, not used to people talking about god like that, and certainly not from seeing you naked. you guessed that meant you were very pretty,

“thank you, sir,”

his cock twitched at that, and he longed to fill you with his seed again, but he wanted to taste you more. he’d known that it was too soon last time, but feeling you now, he couldn’t resist. he needed to feel you on his tongue as your naked body shook for him, and only ever him.

“are you ready for the next part, sweet dove?”

“yes sir, please it’s starting to hurt again,”

laying you back down, he let you watch him unbuckle his belt, teasing down the zipper, making you wait for what you knew was coming next. you whimpered at the sight of his hard cock, eyes widening at your first proper look at the ‘medical tool’. you were shocked to find it skin coloured, pale flesh with a couple of protruding veins running up the side to the tip, which was an angry red, leaking some sort of clear fluid, dripping down his cock.

if you’d been in your right mind, you would’ve questioned it, suspicion souring the experience as you would’ve started to think that this wasn’t a normal treatment. however, with one orgasm already mollifying the rational anxious part of your mind, you only cared about getting the tool inside of you and soothing this horrendous ache.

you couldn’t take your eyes off of it as he palmed your cunt, coating his hand in slick before using it to lube himself up, reading himself and tappping the tip against your soaked slit, remus’ focus shifting to your face to make sure you were ready.

you both groaned when he finally began to sink into you, heavy cock forcing your silky walls to accommodate him, steadily pushing in until your hips met, stretching you open. it somehow felt bigger than last time, maybe from the way he stood still for a minute, head tipped back as he breathed slowly, barely able to cope with the way you squeezed him so tight.

you watched him through blurred eyes, tears clouding your vision at the desperation that tore at you, thighs trembling around his body as you tried your best to patiently wait for more. you were a good girl, you swear. just needed to prove it and you’d get what you wanted, had to show him.

only when you let out a tiny sob did he look back down at you, brows furrowed in concern at the distressed noise, so sad sounding that it pulled at his heartstrings. he gave you his hand when you reached for him, letting you cling and fiddle anxiously at his fingers.

“what’s wrong, sweet girl?”

“need you, please. wanna feel like that again- i’ll be good, promise,”

“fuck, honey. okay- okay. you are being good, so good f’me. i’ll give you what you want, i always will,” he pulled out until only the tip was left inside of you, waiting until you clenched down around it to thrust back in quickly, wasting no time in warming you up when you were already so soaked and pliant for him, and only him.

you were given no option but to take it, still clutching at his one hand with both of yours, his other grasping your hip so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised if he left little purple and blue bruises there, marking you as a reminder of how he makes you feel. you were excited to feel over them later in front of a mirror, to take a couple of polaroids to capture the memory and press down on them until the sweet pain sent shocks of pleasure to your cunt.

“oh- please, feels so good,”

“so tight around me, taking it so well,”

he fucked you so deliciously, you both let every sound out, your moans and whimpers intwining with his groans and grunts, creating a song that would play in his head when he fisted his cock to the thought of you whenever he couldn’t have you near.

he treasured you like your mama always said a man should, he made you feel oh so good, head empty with everything but him. no one else had ever occupied your mind like remus had. sure, he was openly blasphemous and he wasn’t religious, so your daddy would never approve, but you didn’t care. as long as you were forever his and he was yours, you would never care about your daddy’s opinion again.

your high built up, toes curling in the stirrups as you clung to him the best you could, slick coating his thick cock as he pounded into you, most definitely creating a mess. his free hand slipped from your hip, causing you to be jostled further up the bed as he started swirling tight circles onto your clit.

he knew you were enjoying the more sensual side of sex that he’d shown you, but he briefly wondered how you’d react to him being a little rougher with you, maybe a scarred hand wrapped around your pretty little neck, fingertips pressing lightly into the sides as your tight pussy spasmed around him.

instead, he settled for leaning down, his warm breath tickling your breasts as you arched your back into him, screaming when his lips enclosed around your nipple, teeth grazing the tender skin. but, only when his mouth deviated did you cum for him, he hovered between your tits, glanced up at you, holding eye contact as he sucked your cross necklace into his mouth, teeth holding it between his scarred lips.

you knew in the back of your mind that this had gone too far, but it just felt too good. his mouth was perfect. you cried out, tears trickling down your cheeks as pleasure thrummed through you, fluid squirting out around his cock as he continued to fuck you, hips speeding up at your unrestrained noises.

remus’ cock twitched uncontrollably at the way you milked him, walls constricting so tightly around him that it almost hurt. his balls tightened, and he folded more into you, head buried between your tits as his mouth gaped open, cross falling from between his teeth as he came inside of you, filling you up to the hilt.

you both panted, bodies covered in a light sheen of sweat that made his shirt stick to his skin, still fully clothed as pushed up, hair flopping down from where it had been so perfectly styled to the now messy locks, strands curling slightly at the ends.

you both groaned when he pulled out, you hating the horribly empty feeling and him from overstimulation. you were barely aware of him tucking his cock back in his boxers, only sign being his belt clinking as you fought to stay conscious, still wracked with the onslaught of the powerful aftershocks that left you shaking, growing disappointment filling you that it was over already.

“are you up to trying else something new today? i promise it’ll feel very good,”

head still spinning from pleasure, you had no choice but to comply, almost too fucked out to even register that remus was speaking to you. you nearly blacked out at the feeling of a soft, wet muscle gliding over your clit, heartbeat pounding in your ears as he began to lick at you, pearly cum leaking out of you and onto his tongue, making him groan at the taste of your combined fluids. he sucked and slurped, cleaning you up with his mouth, making you writhe uncontrollably and mewl loudly.

still ever so sensitive from your previous orgasms, you didn’t last long, stuttered breaths causing your lungs to ache from the lack of oxygen before you fell apart, the blood rushing around your head too loud to hear the sugary praises murmured by remus, repeated “good girl,”s and “thaaat’s it, there you go, baby.”

you completely consumed his every thought, and he knew he’d spend the next couple of days until your next routine appointment replaying this moment in his head again and again, the way your head tipped back, back arching once again and hair mussing on the thin pillow. the way you screamed at the pleasure that only he could give you. the way you tasted on his tongue, the tanginess and sweetness of your cum that could never be replicated.

you collapsed back against the bed, body quivering from the intensity. he rubbed at your thighs soothingly, massaging at the sore muscles that had now relaxed, pressing kisses on your inner thighs, one just above your clit just so that he could hear you whimper again.

“say thank you,” he teased, voice low and honeyed, unable to keep the smile from it.

“thank you- mm- thank you, sir,”

“feeling any better?”

“mhm, much. i think you…” you trailed off, head lulling to the side sleepily.

he chuckled quietly, not wanting to disturb your peace as he unbuckled the restraints on your ankles, “you think i…” he prompted gently, before he carefully cleaned you up with a warm, damp cloth.

“i think you broke me, feels so good. m’like jelly,”

he couldn’t help but smile, his rough hands sliding beneath your bare back to pull you up, encouraging your head against his chest again. his heart fluttered when you melted into him, fully allowing yourself to go slack in his hold. you trusted him so much, he felt a little guilty that he’d taken advantage of you in such a vulnerable way, but he knew that this might’ve been the only way he could’ve gotten to have you. and now that he’d had you, he could never let you go.

he brushed stray hairs out of your face, the strands damp with sweat from where they’d stuck to your skin. resting his chin on the top of your head, he savoured the moment as much as possible, clutching your naked body close to clothed one,

“your heart is beating so fast,” you whispered, glass heart so hopeful that he might be feeling the same as you, biting you lip as you pulled back to meet his eyes again.

he leant down slightly, his face was so close to yours, far closer than appropriate. a part of your naïve, little self couldn’t bear that you were participating in something that god wouldn’t approve of, with someone that you weren’t even close to married to, but you still loved it. and you still allowed him to do anything he wanted to you.

his attention flicked between your eyes, his brown irises consumed by the blown out pupils, before it flicked down to your rosy lips. he held your face, just enough to keep you in place as his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, pulling it from between your milky teeth.

you gasped when he closed the gap, eyelids fluttering shut as you pressed against him, unsure movements showing your inexperience as you desperately tried to copy the way his lips moved against yours. he took it slow with you, wanting to savour it and not make you panic, but also enough to entice you, to make you need more, not just want.

remus swiped his tongue along your mouth, taking advantage of the way you gasped again, swirling it inside briefly before drawing back, allowing you a moment to breathe. you trailed after him, trying to follow his lips for more.

smiling, he leant your foreheads together, still keeping you close as you panted, having not yet learnt how to breathe and kiss at the same time. it was okay, he’d love to teach you. in fact, he needed to be the only one to teach you these things, wanted to be your first and last.

the two of you spent as long as possible just holding each other there, silently sucking in each others heat. he eventually moved back, leisurely redressing you with sweet kisses in-between each item. a kiss to your hipbone for your underwear. a kiss to the tip of your nose for your top. a kiss to the sole of your foot for your socks, making you squeal.

as you slowly came back down, you began to realise that what had happened was definitely sin, but you wondered why god was so against something that felt so good. why would he not want you to be happy, when this was certainly the happiest you had ever been.

remus eased you to stand, holding you up in case you still wobbly legs gave out, but also to selfishly steal as much affection from you until two more days time. he wasn’t sure how he was going to last that long without feeling you, touching you and tasting you. he yearned to take you home and teach you everything he knew. to taste you until the sun came up, and then a little more. he was infatuated with you.

one hand on your back, the other cupping the back of your head, he bent his head down, nuzzling your nose lovingly before kissing you again. you couldn’t get enough of the feeling, kisses with him were indescribable, you only wished that you could get to do it more.

you giggled when he turned around, handing you a red lollipop meant for little kids, unwrapping it for you as he tentatively watched you wrap your lips around the sweet, not realising the not so innocent thoughts that were tormenting his head.

“did so very well for me today, you’re responding perfectly to the treatments. i think we will go ahead with making these appointments house calls, and much more regular visits too. how would you feel about that?”

you nodded eagerly, gasping excitedly at the thought of him being around more often, and maybe even in your bedroom, “yes please, but you’ll have to talk to my daddy.”

“of course, i’ll be looking forward to seeing you again, y/n,” he smoothed down your hair, returning your grin. luckily for him, you missed the way his eyes darkened at the way you referred to your father, and the way he had to subtly rearrange his already re-firming cock beneath his trousers.

remus walked you to your parents car again, his hand straying a little too low when no one was around. your father didn’t hesitate to agree to the house calls, nor to the even more regular appointments when he saw you beaming, visibly happier than you’d been in months, if not years.

you couldn’t wait to see remus again, nor him you. when he returned back to his office after waving you off, he couldn’t help but palm at his length, thinking of all the things he’d be able to do to you in the very near future.

[noorpersona]

Managerial Duties: Aoba Johsai

Aoba Johsai’s volleyball team was many things—talented, competitive, and, above all, nosy. But when it came to you, their manager, they had collectively accepted one simple fact: you lived in oversized, comfortable clothing.

Baggy sweatpants, hoodies, loose athletic shirts—if it wasn’t designed for maximum comfort, you didn’t wear it. Even during official team meetings outside of school, you opted for relaxed attire: a sweatshirt over leggings, sneakers, and maybe a jacket if it was cold. It wasn’t that you disliked fashion, exactly. You just didn’t see the need to dress up for them.

So when you casually mentioned you had to leave practice early for a family event, no one thought much of it.

"Skipping out on us?" Oikawa teased, tossing a volleyball in the air as you packed up your clipboard. "And here I thought we were your favorite people in the world."

"You’re absolutely not," you deadpanned, adjusting the strap on your bag.

"What’s the occasion?" Iwaizumi asked, more genuinely curious.

"Wedding," you muttered. "Family thing. My parents are making me go."

Matsukawa, stretching lazily, smirked. "That why you’re sneaking off?"

"Something like that," you grumbled, crossing your arms. "They’re making me wear this stupid dress. It’s all tight and uncomfortable, and the shoes are even worse. Who the hell decided that formalwear should be painful?"

Hanamaki raised an eyebrow. "What’s it look like?"

You groaned, already dreading the memory of trying it on. "It’s one of those straight-jacket ones that make you feel like you can’t breathe. Apparently, looking ‘put together’ is more important than basic human comfort. I swear, my mom picked this just to torture me."

"Sounds fancy," Watari mused.

"Sounds awful," you corrected. "I’m gonna suffer through this thing and then burn it the second I get home."

"Bet you’ll look nice, though," Kindaichi added hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You gave him a deadpan look. "If you call suffering looking nice, sure. Anyway, I’ll see you guys at the next practice. Don’t destroy the gym while I’m gone."

"No promises!" Hanamaki called as you walked off.

That was the end of it.

Practice was still in full swing when you stepped back into the gym, freshly changed and already regretting every single life choice that had led you to this moment. You had only come back because you’d stupidly left your phone on the bench, a mistake that now seemed far worse than just being phoneless for a few hours. The team was scattered across the court, finishing up drills and cooldowns, their chatter filling the space as they moved around. You had hoped—prayed, even—that you could slip in, grab your phone, and leave unnoticed. But fate, as always, was cruel.

Then you stepped forward.

And the entire gym stopped dead in its tracks.

Oikawa, who had been mid-sentence, visibly choked. His water bottle slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor.

"Holy shit," Matsukawa whispered, not even trying to be subtle.

Iwaizumi, caught off guard, blinked hard, as if his brain needed an extra second to process what was happening. Yahaba, who had been chatting with Kunimi, turned so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, mouth opening but no words coming out. Kunimi, usually too lazy to react to anything, actually paused, his usual indifferent stare slightly wider than normal.

Even Kyotani, who rarely paid attention to anything that wasn’t volleyball or fighting, furrowed his brows, looking between you and the rest of the team like he had just walked into some elaborate prank. After a long pause, he finally muttered, "Why do you look like that?"

You shifted uncomfortably, hating every second of this. "My God. Can you guys stop staring?"

"We can’t," Watari blurted, sounding just as shocked as the rest.

Because, for the first time since they had met you, you weren’t wearing your usual baggy, oversized clothing. You weren’t hidden under loose layers of fabric that swallowed your frame. No, today, you had been dressed by your mother, which meant you were in something far more… put together.

The dress was sleek and form-fitting, something you never would have picked for yourself. The fabric hugged your silhouette in a way that felt unfamiliar, and you had spent the entire night feeling like you were playing dress-up in someone else’s clothes. To make matters worse, your mother had insisted on makeup—subtle, but noticeable enough to make you feel even less like yourself. The heels were even worse—unsteady, impractical, and making you curse whoever thought fancy shoes should hurt.

"Why—how—what?!" Kindaichi, who had been stretching, nearly tipped over from shock.

"Is that you?" Hanamaki added, pointing unnecessarily.

"No," you deadpanned. "I’m an imposter. The real me is at the wedding, plotting my escape."

"Hah—seriously, though! You clean up nice," Matsukawa mused, looking you up and down with a smirk. "Didn’t know you had it in you."

"No one did," Yahaba muttered, still looking at you like you had just shapeshifted before his eyes. "What the hell."

"I don’t," you grumbled, adjusting the hem of the dress uncomfortably. "My parents picked this out. Not my choice."

"Your parents should pick your outfits more often," Oikawa said before immediately ducking as Iwaizumi chucked a towel at his head.

Kunimi let out a short exhale. "So that’s what was under all those sweatpants. Huh."

Kyotani just grunted, arms crossed. "Tch. Whatever. Doesn’t change anything." But the way he kept glancing at you said otherwise.

"And that’s why I dress the way I do," you huffed.

Sensing your growing discomfort, Iwaizumi sighed, running a hand down his face. "Alright, that’s enough. Stop freaking out."

"I am freaking out," Oikawa retorted. "This is earth-shattering news."

"You’re an idiot," Iwaizumi muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You love me," Oikawa shot back, undeterred.

"I don’t," Iwaizumi deadpanned.

You exhaled, already exhausted. "Okay, I’m leaving now. If anyone makes another comment, I swear I’m quitting this team."

"No, wait!" Oikawa called. "Just one picture—"

You shot him a withering glare that promised pain if he continued that sentence. He wisely shut up.

With that, you turned on your heel and left, still muttering under your breath about hating dresses, hating heels, and how you were never letting your mother pick your outfits again. Behind you, the team was still buzzing, voices overlapping as they tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Matsukawa let out a low whistle. "Damn. We’re never gonna see that again, are we?"

"Nope," Hanamaki sighed. "Should’ve taken that picture."

"So we had a hot manager this whole time?" Yahaba muttered, still looking at where you stood like he was processing a cosmic revelation.

Oikawa, arms crossed, hummed thoughtfully. "Iwa-chan, do you think we could convince her to dress up again?"

Iwaizumi didn’t even hesitate. "No."

[777heavengirl]

Bless the Telephone ; ##04

James Potter x f!muggle!reader

word count: 1,163

warnings: none?

a/n: HELLO IM ALIVE- ummm did break up with my boyfriend, after spiraling for a week i am feeling much better! I did what was right for me and i am happier for it!! JAMES OR SIRIUS WOULD HAVE NEVER TREAT ME LIKE THAT! so yea I'm back :D thank you for putting up with my disappearances i should be uploading SEMI regularly just bc classes r in full throttle now

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It hadn't been as difficult as you thought. Getting rid of Josh was a pending item on your to-do list for months. But for some reason or another, you never could, not completely. More often than not, he’d find some weak spot in your resolve, and crawl back in like a cockroach. 

But not this time, at least not yet. After that day, when James’s call saved you from a bit of an uncomfortable situation, you managed to easily avoid his calls, if he knocked at the door Charlotte and you stayed unbearably still until he went away. He left voicemail after voicemail, called Charlotte’s phone with a bit more anger, and called your phone with crocodile tears. 

But you weren't sweating it. You had fallen into an easy pattern with James, he’d fill the time that you would've been itching to fill and end up calling Josh out of boredom. 

James was a good friend! At least that's what you’d tell Charlotte. She’d look at you with a glint in her eye and a smirk on her lips that you ignored. If only she was so keen and observant with women that she liked, she tended to lack awareness often. 

You didn’t dare tell her about the playful jabs, the comments you didn't dare label fully as flirty, or god forbid the butterflies that fluttered at the pit of your stomach every time he called, laughed, or gave you some stupid cloying nickname. 

“Come on pretty- just tell me” You could hear the pout in his voice

You groaned in defeat, “Okay okay- if I had to be any creature…” You thought about it for a second more “Potter this is stupid”

“Indulge me”

You sighed “Fine, I think I would be… a witch”

“That's not a creature love”

“Well they are to me”

“I know a few that would be greatly offended by that comment” he retorted

“Oh yeah? You’re friends with witches?” you mirrored the smirk you heard in his voice

“Quite a few actually, nasty women the lot of them…” James smiled, thinking of his friends. How Marlene would probably flick the side of his head, and Lily would wholeheartedly just roll her eyes. Dorcas would definitely send a book flying straight to his head if she heard, not that she hadn't done that often enough during their time at school. It was always deserved. “love them nevertheless though- Pick something else, witches are human”

You hmph in disagreement and thought about it momentarily

“I don't think it would be very pleasant to be a werewolf you know? A bit inconvenient-” you thought out loud

“You don’t know the half of it,” he said under his breath

“Vampires sound kind of cool… wouldn't be able to go out into the sun though so that's quite a shame” James hummed in agreement “Maybe a mermaid, they’re pretty right?”

“Allegedly, they’re more scary than anything else- foul foul creatures” The ones in the Black Lake had messed with him more than once. 

“Oh, what do you know Potter?”

“Quite a lot thank you- more than you anyway”

“And why do you think that? Mermaids aren't scary dummy”

“You say that because you haven't seen one pretty” James’s mouth was faster than his thoughts, he prayed you’d just laugh it off.

“Oh, and I suppose you have?” He slapped himself on the forehead as he thought of some excuse. The witches' comment he was able to get away with, maybe his tone had been too matter-o-fact.

“Well, yes I have!” he said, confidently, ironically. You started laughing, his worry melted away. Would you even believe him if he told you?

“Is that so? Well okay, what creature would you be Potter?”

“A hippogriff I think”

“What the hell is that?” James burst out in laughter

-

You could feel Charlotte’s eyes on you as you scooped ice cream into your lips. You focused on the cold chocolatey flavor and whatever movie she had found. You didn’t know what you were watching, you thought of James.

James and his stupid laugh, and the way he always called you pretty or doll or some other completely repulsive nickname you wanted to hate. But you couldn't. He was sweet, and he always asked how you were, after he found out about your roommate’s existence, he asked about her too. 

“y/n”

“yes charlotte?”

“What does he look like? is he cute? Is he tall? I reckon that’s an important one with men is it not” you groaned as she launched question after question

“Char, I already told you I don't know anything about him”

“But you talk all day, every day” She scoffed

“It’s not every day- nor is it all day I have things to do you know”

“It is though, every bloody day, you come in and launch yourself at the telephone like clockwork” You stared at your pint of ice cream, suppressing the small laugh that threatened to leave your lips. 

You felt a tad silly.

“It’s just-” You started to say, Charlotte leaned in with an excited smile on her lips as if egging you on. “It feels stupid, I could be getting totally scammed right now- sure he sounds young, and sure he said he’s twenty- but he could be anyone, anywhere” 

“Let’s think about it though- you guys talk a lot he has to be in England no? Calls out are so expensive” She grabbed the pint of ice cream from your hands, shoving a spoonful into her mouth. 

“That doesn’t change anything Char, I don't know him” She waved the spoon around dismissively. For someone who was so cynical about her own love life, Charlotte was always ready to be invested in yours. You never minded though, you were happy to bond over the raging disaster that it seemed to be.

“You guys have never thought about meeting up? You haven’t even talked about it?” You shifted uncomfortably as she wiggled her eyebrows “Have you even asked him what he looks like?” You took the ice cream tub back, shoving ice cream into your mouth

“We’re missing the movie y’know?” She scoffed at your weak attempt to change the subject

“As if I care about that- come on, you’re rolling in laughter every time you’re on that damn phone so there is clearly some chemistry there”

“So what I also have chemistry with circus clowns?” You said, turning to give her a deadpan stare. 

“You know what I mean” She took the ice cream back

“What if I meet up with him and he kidnaps me…” she offered you the last few scrapes left in the tub. When you shook your head she ate it gingerly, a small smile on her face. “Suddenly I’m in the arctic tundra being trafficked”

“As long as it's not with Josh,” she shrugged her shoulders “I reckon anything is better,” she said, snorting 

“You’re terrible” You both fell into laughter

tags ; @ilovejamespottersomuch @ravisinghs-wife @hidontmindtheintrovert @stella-thestars @caspiankingofnarnia @lovelyteenagebeard @starkluvrr @hisparentsgallerryy @leilani13gc @katsusayhi @auroresce @lovemiss-vale @alessiaparigim @unconventional-lawnchair @moonydoodlez @eissaaaa @ailoda @nahhhwhatthefrick @notapoetjustscar @hiireadstuff @the-rat-king1902 @n1ght-vngel @littlewhitel1es @rreporterbby

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine @heyyyloverr

PLEASE PLEASE LMK IF I MISSED YOU I HAVE BEEN GONE FOR WEEKS AND I DID MY BEST TO COLLECT EVERYONE AHHHH thank you for reading <3

[themilfsland]

Under the forbidden tree - Part II

Pairing(s): religious!mommy Wanda X female!reader

Words count: ~ 4.9k

Summary: You could feel her, every curve, every breath.

- "I must tell you, Y/N, I think I've found the apple of my eye," - "and I want to take a bite."

tags | content | +18: smut , top!Wanda, bottom!reader, Wanda being a little psycho, innocence/corruption, fingering, strap-on, mommy kink, a lot of teasing, jealous, manipulation, possessiveness, use of religion itens, praying for grace.

Fic menu | Part I

You needed fresh air. A moment alone. Walking briskly toward the lake, your knees gave out as soon as you reached the shore. In the distance, you could hear the laughter and chatter of the children, but none of it mattered. Not right now. Letting out a long sigh, your gaze shifted to the side, landing on the apple tree. Her favourite tree. A storm of emotions swirled inside you. This was all your fault. The fault of your deluded mind, spinning fantasies out of nothing. Frustration burned through you. How could you have ever believed your desires might become a reality? Everything Wanda had done for you was nothing more than kindness. Her nurturing nature. Of course. She was a mother. And you… you were the only guilty and impure person here.

Peter’s voice calling your name snapped you back to the present.He said he had been looking for you to invite you to assist in the kitchen tonight, rather than attend the mass. You didn’t hesitate to accept. Anything to keep you busy. Anything to avoid crossing paths with Wanda.

--

You waited until the evening mass had started before slipping into the room to grab a change of clothes for a quick shower. After that, you’d head straight to the dining hall to help with the cooking. Every move was carefully planned, strategically avoiding her. The thought of spending the night under the same roof as Wanda was already unbearable. Thankfully, Monica had arranged for you to have an extra key, giving you more freedom to come and go. Like a guardian angel.

You hadn’t expected working in the kitchen to be so exhausting, but it felt good to be useful, to keep yourself occupied. A joyful atmosphere filled your teamwork, with laughter coming easily, and effortlessly, they convinced you to stay after hours for a casual chat. It was exactly what you needed.

----

The hour was very late when you finally returned to the room. Maybe Wanda was asleep. God, please let her be asleep.

You cautiously opened the door, trying to be as quiet as possible, but it was pointless. Wanda was awake, sitting on the bed, watching your every move as you stepped in.

- “You’re back. What took you so long?” - There was a hint of disappointment in her voice.

You walked closer to the bed where she sat, a thought creeping into your mind - "had she been waiting for you this whole time?"

- “The kitchen tasks took a little longer than expected,” - you said. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either.

It was no surprise that she looked unconvinced. - “Hm. The kitchen shift ended a while ago. You were gone longer than that.” - She eyed you with suspicion, but it didn’t take her long to realize you weren’t in the mood to explain yourself. - “Anyway, I’m really happy you’re back!” - In one quick motion, she jumped up and stood right in front of you. - “I missed you, and I was worried since it got so late.” - There was a sincerity in her voice that caught you off guard. - “Come here, give me a hug!”

Before you could react, her arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in. Unexpectedly, you found yourself hugging her back, albeit a bit awkwardly at first. She was warm, so warm. You could feel her breath near your neck. It was intoxicating, the way her presence seemed to dissolve every rational thought. And just like that, you were melting in her arms.

- “You smell so good,” - she whispered into your ear, tightening her embrace. A chill ran through you, heat pooling beneath your skin at the pressure of her hold.

Then, as your eyes fluttered open, they landed on something spread across the bed — her clothes. And among them, a single piece stood out. Underwear. But not just any underwear. Your underwear. “My underwear?” you thought, disbelief creeping in.

It was the same one you had set aside that day… the one that mysteriously vanished from the bathroom. You tried to focus, staring harder, almost desperate to prove yourself wrong. Your body, once melting into her, suddenly stiffened. Completely still.

- “Well, I was waiting for you so I could shower,” - Wanda said, finally pulling away. She gave you a soft look, almost pitying. - “You look so exhausted, darling. You should rest.”

Without hesitation, she turned to grab her neatly folded clothes… and the underwear. Your underwear (?).

She didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. Maybe you were imagining things again. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe — God, please — maybe they were just similar. You grasped for any excuse to make yourself believe this wasn’t what it looked like.

You remained frozen near the bed, barely registering that Wanda was already heading for the door.

- “Oh, Y/N, I just realized, I forgot to grab my hairbrush,” - she said, pointing toward the nightstand beside her bed. - “Would you mind getting it for me? It’s in the top drawer.”

Still in shock from what you just saw, you moved without thinking, your body acting on autopilot as you stepped forward and pulled the drawer open. And then — your breath hitched. Your eyes widened. Sitting there, unmistakable, was a vibrator. But not just any vibrator. Yours. Panic surged through you. This wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be. You would recognize your toy anywhere. Your mind scrambled for an explanation, but nothing made sense. What the hell was going on?

- “Y/N? Did you find it?” - Wanda’s soft voice drifted closer.

Your heart pounded. Just beside the toy, you spotted the hairbrush, the actual item she had asked for. In a desperate motion, you grabbed it, slamming the drawer shut a little too forcefully before turning on your heel.

- “Yes, I found it. Here.” - You extended the brush toward her, eyes fixed anywhere but on her face.

She took it from your hand, murmuring a quick “Thank you,” before turning toward the room door.

You only realized you’d been holding your breath when you heard the door click shut. A heavy sigh escaped your lips. You had to be imagining things. Right? But doubt gnawed at you, pulling you back toward the nightstand. With shaky hands, you reopened the drawer. And there it was. Nothing else mattered at that moment. You grabbed the toy, turning it over in your hands. The brand. The color. The tiny details. It was yours. Your pulse pounded as you spun around, rummaging through your suitcase. You tore through every compartment, every pocket, searching, hoping. Nothing. It wasn’t there. You knew you had packed it. You hadn’t seen it since arriving, but you knew it had been in your bag. No doubt about it. At least Yelena’s gift was still safely tucked between your clothes. But that only left one terrifying question. Did Wanda go through your things?

First, the underwear. Now, the vibrator. Paranoia sank its claws into your mind, dragging you into an endless spiral. Could it all just be a coincidence? Were you the only crazy one here? Or worse — maybe she wanted you to go crazy. You needed to think fast. Wanda would be back any minute. Just one more night. By tomorrow, you’d be free. All you had to do was act normal and pretend nothing happened.

So you climbed into your bed, shutting your eyes. Pretending to be asleep when she returned was the safest bet. No interaction. No conversation. The perfect plan. But regardless of the truth — whether it was in your head or something much worse — one thing was certain. You felt like you were falling from heaven to hell.

--

- “Y/N? Are you asleep?" - You heard the bedroom door close and Wanda’s footsteps approaching.

You kept your eyes shut and your breathing steady. Your only goal was to get through the night like this. Wanda was probably already lying in her bed. It was hard to tell what she was doing without seeing anything and you got anxious about it.

You started hearing murmurs, soft words being spoken. She was praying. It went on for about half an hour, maybe longer. You were finally beginning to drift off when she stopped praying. Next, the sound of movement, a faint click - she must have turned off the light.

The room was silent again, so silent you could hear your breathing. You thought Wanda had already fallen asleep until you heard a sound, a low, humming vibration, followed by a soft moan.

You held your breath, forcing yourself not to open your eyes or make any movement that might reveal you were awake.

The sound was familiar, unmistakable. It hit you all at once — it was your vibrator. There was no doubt in your mind. Her breaths grew heavier, her moans more intense. Wanda was touching herself, right there, in the bed beside you.

The images of the scene began to take shape in your mind, and you felt a sharp ache between your legs, warmth pooling at your core. You were getting aroused just from listening to her.

Her moans grew more erratic, breaths uneven, each sounds sending a pulse of heat through you. She was getting closer, losing herself in pleasure. Wanda was on the edge of release and you were right there, caught between guilt and desire, aching for something you shouldn’t want.

The chapel bell tolled midnight, and Wanda let out a louder moan. You were so lost in the sounds of her movements, in the way she was unravelling, that when the chime echoed through the night, it startled you. Your body tensed, and the bed subtly shifted beneath you in response to your involuntary reflex. That damn bell. You prayed she hadn’t noticed.

Silence returned to the room. Her breathing was low, still steadying, the aftermath of pleasure lingering in the air. Then, the sound of her bed creaking. Was she putting the vibrator away? Getting up to go to the bathroom? What was she doing? The uncertainty only made the heat inside you grow.

Another sound, closer this time. Then, the mattress dipped slightly behind you. A rush of cold air brushed against your skin as your blanket was lifted, and before you could process it, Wanda was lying behind you. You stayed perfectly still.

Her body pressed into your back, the heat of her skin seeping through the thin fabric of your pyjamas. You could feel her, every curve, every breath. Her hardened nipples brushed against you. Then came her arms, wrapping around you, pulling you in. Her breath, warm and slow, fanned against your neck.

- “Y/N?” - Her whisper brushed against your ear. Her warm hand deliberately slid under your shirt, fingertips tracing slow, featherlight circles over your stomach before travelling higher. - “I know you’re awake, sweetheart. Why keep pretending?” - Her voice was smooth and teasing - “Good girls don’t fake sleep… and get this aroused doing it.” - Her fingers closed around your nipple, rolling it between her fingertips. A sharp gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it.

- “See? Only bad girls do that.” - She toyed with you, lazy and unhurried, her lips pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your neck. Your breath hitched a quiet mix of sighs and swallowed whimpers. You bit your lip hard, desperate to keep still, but she noticed. Of course, she noticed.

- "Why don't you be a good girl for me now?" - Her hand now sliding down, invading the hem of your shorts. - "I must tell you, Y/N, I think I've found the apple of my eye," - her fingers slipping into your panties, your excitement growing, until she felt your wet folds, she released a louder gasp at the touch. - "And I want to take a bite." - She slid her finger inside you without warning and you let out a loud moan, finally opening your eyes.

- "You're so wet, just as I thought." - Her finger moved slowly, you needed more, you needed her. - "I wanna hear your voice or I won't give you what you want." - She stopped moving but kept her finger still inside you.

You were desperately, trying to move your hips to get the slightest of friction - "Please Wanda, please" - You pleaded, your last bit of strength to remain steady completely slipping away.

Before you could start complaining, she slid two fingers inside, you moaned loudly with the pressure, feeling your walls clench. - "You are so tight, so perfect for me." - She curled her fingers inside you at a faster pace. - "I can't wait to make you mine".

Her fingers going in and out, pushing deeper each time, and all you could do was continue moan, gripping the bedsheet tightly under you. She managed to slip her leg between yours, making you spread wider and giving her more space to slide her fingers even harder inside you. Her breath grew heavier behind your neck until she pushed her body closer against you, making you feel something hard. Your desperate body instinctively pressed closer, nearly certain of what that firm sensation behind you was.

-"I wonder if my needy angel found out the little surprise. " - Wanda whispered pressing her hips against your ass, leaving no doubt about what she was wearing. - "You know, I wasn't expecting you to be this naughty, but I supposed bringing this toy into God's house proves just how unholy you truly are."

She was wearing the strap-on. She messed with your things and she found it. A wave of shame washed over you, yet the mere thought of her claiming your toy as her own sent a thrilling heat through your body, leaving you trapped between humiliation and unbearable desire. You needed a release and all you only could do was beg. You tried to turn your body to face her, but her arm holds you tightened around you, holding you in place as her fingers pushed deeper.

-"We’re just getting started, darling. Why the rush?" - Her movements were relentless — deeper, faster— your walls tightening around her fingers with every thrust. - "shhh I am here to wash away all your sins, just give in." - You couldn’t hold it back anymore, your legs trembled, and pleasure consumed your entire body.

-"You did so well for me, sweetheart." - She held your chin, tilting your face up to meet her eyes. - "but I still need so much more from you." - she returned a teasing smile.

She grabbed your waist, pulling you to lay facing her. Her fingers gripped the waistband of your pyjama shorts, stripping them off in one swift motion, along with your panties. - "It's strange to see you wearing panties, for a needy girl who walks around with her pussy nearly exposed. I remember that night.” - She said in a mocking tone and you tried to cover your legs. - "nah nah, I wanna see it now, your body all for myself to claim." - she said, holding your legs firmly as she spread them open.

You were dripping from your arousing and your cum, being able to feel the liquid soaked over your folds. You instinctively tried to close your legs, torn between the embarrassment of being so exposed and the aching need for friction. She moved closer between your legs, giving you your first glimpse of her naked body. She was like a God - you thought - her body was a masterpiece, every curve perfectly sculpted. You couldn't stop looking at her perfect boobs, your mouth watered at just the idea of holding and suckling them.

Wanda caught the way your eyes roamed over her body. She was well aware of the power she had over you and she was more than ready to take full advantage of it. - "I'm happy that you are enjoying the view." - she said coming closer and you noticed she was holding the strap with one of her hands. It was hot. - "I need you to take of your shirt now." - she ordered you.

You looked at her, a flicker of shyness in your eyes. - "What's wrong, dear?" - she teased you. - "All embarrassed to show me your pretty body, but so easy to beg for me to fill you up." - she looked down between your opened legs, holding the length of the toy, brushing the tip over your damp folds. You let out a whine and you desperately took your shirt off, you were all for her now.

She looked at you as she was about to devour your body and soul. She lowered herself onto you, her body pressing against yours. Her face hovered near your boobs before she took your nipple between her lips. All those sensations making your body crave for her touch, the movements her hips were doing above you making the strap-on slightly touch your needy pussy was driving you crazy. You need her inside now. - "Wanda, please, I need you." - you pleaded as your hands wandered over her body, dragging your nails down her skin all the way to the bottom.

She sucked your nipple harder and bit it as a disapproval for your acts. - "I let you beg but I didn't allow you to touch me." - She gripped your neck, her fingers pressing firmly, making you feel the pressure against your throat. - "Don't worry, darling. Mommy will put you in your place." - she said as she got up, settling between your legs once again. Hearing Wanda call herself Mommy made your mind go blank. You had no idea how much it would affect you until you heard it, but it was all you needed to give yourself over to her completely. - "Please mommy, I need you inside, it's hurting."

Wanda was merciful enough to finally give in to your desperate pleas, pressing the toy against your entrance — it was bigger than you had imagined and your body tensed at the thought that it might not fit.

She probably had noticed your hesitated face so she tried to calm you. - "Ohh sweetheart, it's okay, you can take it." - she was pushing in slowly. - "See? Your wet pussy was made for mommy's cock." - You let out a loud moan as your body relaxed. The way she whispered those filthy words made you crave her even more. You felt her slide inside you fully, filling you completely.

- "Are you alright?" - She asked with concern, tracing gentle circles on your thigh with her fingers. You nodded in response letting out another whimper and beg with a "please".

- "mm good. You feel so tight. I need to stretch you out first" - she didn't wait for a sign and started thrusting into you. Gripping your waist firmly, her nails digging into your skin, her hips slamming against your body. Her cock was filling you up so deeply, every thrust pressing your walls inside. Her movements picked up pace, faster, more erratic, not worrying about how rough she was being with you.

You felt your walls tighten, completely filled by her. Desperately, you wrapped your legs around her, locking her against you, looking for her hard thrusts, looking for your release again. She probably realized you were nearing your climax, her thrusts grew even rougher, hitting your most sensitive spot with every movement, pushing you closer to the edge. - "Come one, sweetheart. Pay for your sins, cum for Mommy."

Then you came again, more intensively this time. Your eyes closed to recover from the orgasm, your hands held her arm while your legs still wrapped around her body. Her fingers released your waist, now gently caressing your belly as you take a small breath.

- "I'm so proud of you for taking me so well." - she reassured you, her nails scratching your skin until her hand reached your breasts. You weren't expecting her territorial hands so soon. - "but it's still not enough for me." - As she lowered her body onto you, the movement of her hips made you remember how deep she was inside but before you could contest she sealed her lips to yours.

The kiss began softly, your tongues meeting, exploring, savouring the moment — she was addictive. But Wanda still had plans for you. Suddenly, she broke the kiss, reaching out toward the nightstand for something. Her rosary.

Your confused gaze met her wicked one. Without hesitation, she adjusted herself, rising only to sit herself onto your hips. A frustrated whimper left your lips at the sudden emptiness between your legs. She took your hands, bringing your wrists together in front of you — and you couldn’t help but notice the thin, rigid object, still sticky from you, resting against your stomach.

You don’t know how, but somehow she managed to tie your wrists together with the rosary, the material pressing firmly against your skin.

- “This will help you count your sins,” - she said, moving off you. - “I need you on all fours now.”

Not giving you a chance to question her, she grabbed your waist and swiftly turned you over, guiding you into the position she demanded.

She helped you steady yourself on your forearms, your wrists still bound by the rosary. Her hands gripped your hips, pulling them up, positioning you exactly how she wanted.

- “You look so hot, all exposed for me like this,” - she said, running her hand over your ass. - “I can see from here how sticky your throbbing cunt is." - her fingers rubbing your folds, spreading your wetness.

Your pussy was aching from the previous thrusts but even more in need to be filled again, you couldn't keep yourself but started moving your hips to get more contact with her fingers.

-"You are so desperate but don't worry, I'm here to clean you from your sins." - she started rubbing the tip of her cock over your folds - "you just need to ask nicely for your forgiveness." - she grabbed your ass' checks with one hand and squeezed.

You tightened your grip on the part of the rosary that was in your palm and started pleading. - "Wanda, please, I need you inside."

-"That's not the way you should call me and it's not what you should be asking for." - she stopped her movements and in one stroke she slapped your ass. -"One last chance."

Your skin burned at her touch, and a louder moan escaped your lips. - "Please mommy, give me the forgiveness, rip all my sins. Please."

She pushed her cock inside your needy pussy with a harsh, you were so wet that it slipped easily deep. You arched your back, pushing your ass up higher.

- "God, you are still so tight." - she kept a rough pace, pouting in and out. - "Mommy's cock will break you from your sins, just take it all like a good girl."

Her hands grabbed your hips to keep her rough movements, pushing you deeply, you couldn't keep up with her thrusts, moaning loudly, letting her use you as she pleased.

You felt your walls tighten, she must have noticed it too because she pounded harder and faster, searching for your next orgasm.

-"Do you wanna cum so badly, don't you?" - she teased - "Make a mess on my cock, make mommy proud."

Your pussy clenched around her cock, you felt her nails digging your skin to hold your hips up, your cum dripping from your cunt with her slow thrusts.

She caressed your back, guiding you down until you were lying comfortably. You whined feeling she was still inside you. Her body pressed down on your back, she reached for your hands to help free you from the rosary - kissing your neck and shoulders.

- "You did so good for me." - She lay down beside you, pulling your body close to hers. You felt your thigh getting sticky from your cum being released from the emptiness she let you. - "You are free from your sins now." - She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close, your face nestled against her neck, feeling the warmth of her skin.

Your eyes grew heavy with exhaustion, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back. The last thing you remembered was her whispering, “But you’re mine now,” as her thigh pressed firmly between your legs.

----

You woke up the next morning, feeling the empty space beside you. The day was already bright outside, and you weren’t sure if the morning bell had rung yet. Truth be told, you still felt numb from everything that had happened.

To confirm the obvious, you turned to the other side, your eyes landing on Wanda’s empty bed. She had tidied the sheets since last night, they were perfectly in place now, as if she had never laid there at all. A hollow feeling settled in your stomach. You missed her warmth.

Narrowing your eyes, you noticed a few objects and a piece of paper lying on her bed. Intrigued by what they could be, curiosity gave you strength, pushing away the heaviness in your body just enough to make you sit up. You gathered the clothes that had been discarded on the floor the night before, slipping them on as you moved toward the edge of the bed, where the objects were neatly arranged.

Then your gaze sharpened, and your mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts. There they were - your vibrator, your missing panties, an apple, and Wanda’s rosary. And alongside them, a note.

You could hardly believe what you were seeing, yet deep down, your paranoia had been right all along, even if it made no sense. You picked up the piece of paper. The message was brief, direct yet unsettling:

“I’m extending the loan of your bigger toy, but I am not a thief. Keep up your prayers. Keep counting your sins.”

A dry, humourless laugh slipped from your lips. So that was the meaning behind it — she had simply taken your strap-on. The audacity of it settled over you like a weight. After everything, after the night you had shared, she still had the nerve to do this.

A restless mix of frustration and anger began to take hold of you. You had wished for a different ending, wished that she would have chosen to act differently. But maybe this was all it had ever been — her fulfilling her purpose, cleansing you of your impurities. That’s all she had wanted. And that’s exactly what she had taken from you.

Just as you were about to crumple the note and toss it away, something on the back caught your eye. The moment you saw it, your body turned cold. A single letter "R" followed by four numbers. And beneath them, written in smaller, almost careful script: Eve. Your breath hitched. The realization crept in, slow but undeniable. It felt like insanity, but the truth was staring back at you, undeniable and inescapable.

The letter "R" wasn’t just any initial — it marked a room number. But not just any room. It belonged to the psychiatric hospital. This time, your memory didn’t fail you. The images came rushing back, vivid and sharp — the day you had combed through the hospital archives, searching for answers about the so-called "Dark Book".

There hadn’t been much information, in fact. Patient names were often replaced with codenames or initials, and details about their appearances or personal data were scarce. At most, the records contained behavioural reports, and vague, clinical descriptions that only deepened the mystery rather than providing clarity.

Although everything had been vague, you remembered it clearly, the specific room number, the reported behavioural lapses, and the mention of a red-covered notebook the patient always carried. That red notebook. You remembered it because you had seen it. The bottom of the cover had been scratched out as if someone had tried to erase something once written there. And the initials were still visible on the front — Jimmy had pointed them out. Eve. Wanda had been a patient at the hospital. She was one of the names listed in the "Dark Book".

All this time, and you had no idea. But her? Had she known about you all along? Had that been the reason for everything? Heat crept up your neck, and you raised a hand to your skin, a sudden prickle making it feel as if she were there, right now — watching, touching.

Your mind reeled back to the memory of her lips on your skin, the way she had lingered, as if marking you, claiming you, savouring the taste of you like something forbidden. Your gaze locked onto the apple resting on the bed. Perfectly red. The colour of temptation. The colour of the greatest sin.

[hoshifighting]

        joshua + fake saints

— it’s funny, really, standing here in this pristine church, sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows, feeling the weight of judgment from everyone around you—but none of them actually have a clue. they don’t know a damn thing about what you and joshua were really up to last night.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, can be sensitve content because of: church setting, a kind of joke about joshua knowing where the clit is, fingering, oral (f. receiving), joshua and reader are naaaaastyy, fucking on the kitchen, basement, supply closet, etc.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

“oh, honey, you look so lovely today,” joshua’s mom smiles at you, her voice warm and sweet, like she’s completely unaware of how you’re standing there with a hickey hidden under the stiff collar of your white button-up shirt. you try not to shift too much, praying she doesn’t notice how the purple bruise is just barely covered.

joshua’s beside you, all innocent smiles and nods, hands clasped in front of him like he’s a damn saint. but you know better. that same boy who leads saturday morning service is the same one who had you bent over a desk last night, splitting you in half like it was his mission from god himself.

“thank you, mrs. hong,” you manage, keeping your voice steady as you shift a little, feeling joshua’s eyes burning into the side of your neck. he knows what he did. he knows exactly where he marked you. it’s almost like he’s proud of it, the little shit. his gaze flicks over the small part of the bruise that’s peeking out, and you swear there’s the slightest smirk playing on his lips.

you nudge him with your elbow, and he coughs, clearly trying to look anywhere but directly at it. his mom’s still talking about something, but neither of you are paying attention anymore.

“it��s always such a pleasure to have you two leading the service,” she says, as she adjusts her purse on her shoulder.

“oh, thank you, mrs. hong. we love doing it. by the way, what time should we get here next week?” you ask, mostly to save the conversation.

mrs. hong smiles wider. “oh, just the usual, dear. around 8 a.m. should be fine.”

the church hall’s still buzzing with people, everyone saying their goodbyes, chatting about the upcoming scavenger hunt, totally oblivious to what you and joshua were doing just last night.

you two were supposed to be working on the paper flags for the event, all innocent, making cute decorations, maybe holding hands or whatever—but nope. one thing led to another, and next thing you know, you’re naked on that old wooden desk in the church basement, your knees pressed into splinters and your mind completely wiped clean from anything about flags.

he had you bent over, his cock buried so deep inside you, you couldn’t even think straight. fuck, the way he moved… all controlled, pulling your hair back just enough to make you arch your back for him. like some kind of secret expert, the good church boy knew exactly where your clit was, his fingers circling it until you couldn’t even hold back the moans anymore.

“never would've guessed you’d know where that is,” you’d gasped between heavy breaths.

and his answer? he just gave you that sweet, innocent smile of his, like it was no big deal, like he wasn’t fucking you raw in the church basement. “what, you think i don’t know how to treat you right?”

yeah, that same boy, the one giving your back a little squeeze right now as he nods along with his mom’s talk about tomorrow’s sermon, all calm and collected like he didn’t have you falling apart underneath him less than twenty-four hours ago.

“anyway, y/n, i’ll see you two,” his mom says, finally turning away, leaving you and joshua standing there.

as soon as she’s out of earshot, you feel him lean in, his lips brushing just below your ear, voice low enough only for you to hear. “still sore, baby?”

you swallow hard, cheeks flushing. “shut up.”

it’s fucking hilarious, really, when you think about it. you and joshua, of all people, thought you’d be the kind of couple that’d settle for shy, soft kisses and holding hands under the table. just sweet, church-going, practically angelic—you thought that’d be your thing.

but nah, that version of you died the first time he kissed you like he meant it. like, really kissed you. tongues slipping past lips, hands gripping skin like he’d been starved for it his entire life.

you didn’t know what was hiding inside both of you until that first time he grabbed the back of your neck and tugged you closer, pressing his body into yours so tight you could feel how hard he was through his jeans. the surprise on his face was priceless when your response wasn’t some innocent gasp or a shy giggle. no, you moaned—loud, shameless—and pulled him down harder, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging him down like you wanted to devour him whole, pushing his head between your thighs so he can eat you out.

e looked up at you with those pretty eyes of his, eyes that had no business being as filthy as they were right then, and without another word, his mouth was on you.

you’re pretty sure you almost blacked out that first time he ate you out. like, how the hell was he so good at that? his tongue flicked over your clit, slow and teasing, before he got serious and sucked, moaning into you like he couldn’t get enough.

and you—you were a mess, hand buried in his hair, tugging him closer, desperate for more, always more. it was funny, honestly, how you’d both gone from “innocent” hand-holding to this. “yes, yes, yes, josh,” you gasped, feeling the way he was licking and sucking like a man on a mission.

he didn’t respond, just gripped your thighs tighter and kept going, like he was trying to make you see the paradise itself.

and then there was that other time… when you two were supposed to just watch a movie. popcorn in hand, sitting all cozy on his couch, blankets thrown over your laps like nothing was out of the ordinary. except the second the movie started, you were all over each other. like, who cared about some dumb rom-com when joshua’s hands were slipping under your shirt, fingers grazing over your bra, and he was kissing you like he was gonna die if he didn’t have you?

“fuck the movie,” he’d whispered, voice all low and rough as he pushed you back against the couch. you agreed, obviously, grabbing at his clothes while he practically tore yours off. soon enough, he had you straddling his lap, his cock hard and pressing against your stomach, and you were already soaking, grinding down on him.

he chuckled, breath hot against your neck. “you’re so nasty babe, pussy drooling on my cock, hm?”

you couldn’t help the way you pushed down harder, biting your lip as his hands slid up to your waist, helping guide your hips.

and then, somehow, you ended up against the couch cushions, his fingers teasing your entrance before sliding in, stretching you out so perfectly, it had your eyes rolling back. “yes babygirl, moan for me,” he muttered, watching you fall apart under him, and it was the hottest thing—how gentle joshua could look while doing the dirtiest things.

like when he had you bent over the kitchen counter one day, right after you two had been “prepping dinner.” you were chopping vegetables, talking about church or something, and suddenly he was behind you, pressing his hard-on against your ass, his breath hot against your neck.

“you know what i’ve been thinking about?” he’d whispered, hands slipping under your shirt, brushing against your skin.

“hmm?” you hummed, trying to stay focused, but the heat between your legs was getting worse by the second.

“you,” he breathed, one hand tapping the kitchen counter. “bent over right here.”

and before you could even respond, he had you flipped around, your hands bracing against the counter as he pulled your leggings down, his fingers sliding between your folds to find you already dripping. you’d let out a choked moan, and that was all it took for him to line up and thrust into you, filling you to the hilt.

it wasn’t long before his pace quickened, and your moans filled the kitchen, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with his grunts. the counter was digging into your stomach, but you didn’t care. all you cared about was how deep he was inside you, how good he felt, and how much you wanted more. always more.

“josh, fuck,” you gasped, barely able to keep yourself upright. “so f-fucking gooood—”

his hand slipped around to your front, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight, quick circles that had you flinching. it was dirty and rough, and so fucking different from anything you thought you’d have with him. but it was everything you needed. everything you didn’t even know you both were capable of.

and then there was that time after the church picnic—when everyone else was packing up, getting ready to leave, and you two snuck off to the supply closet. you barely got the door closed before he was on you, pushing you up against the shelves, hands all over you like he couldn’t wait another second.

“this is fucking crazy,” he’d whispered against your lips, but he didn’t stop. he couldn’t. his fingers were already unbuttoning your jeans, sliding them down just enough to give him access. and before you knew it, his hand was between your legs, fingers moving so fast you were shaking, clinging to his shoulders like you might collapse if he stopped.

no one here knows the things you two have done, the way you’ve turned each other inside out, discovering things about yourselves that you didn’t even know existed.

it’s wild to think that it all started with those innocent touches, those shy glances. and now, you can’t even look at him without thinking about how his lips feel on your skin, how his cock feels buried inside you, the way he whispers your name when he’s cumming.

no, holding hands and superficial kisses weren’t ever going to be enough for you two. not even close.

[rafeysvenicebitch]

I would love to see churchbunny!reader get pregnant and have the whole town flip tf out, I feel like the hate she would get would be so bad that her and rafe would have to move😔

a/n: Unfortunately for Church Bunny, she didn’t think it would happen to the extent that it did. She thought people would lay off on the insults but they only got worst.

cw: pregnancy, minimal mentions of abortion, fluff

You were trembling before the timer even buzzed.

Sitting on the closed toilet lid, hands clenched in your lap, you barely noticed the soft knock on the bathroom door.

“Bunny,” Rafe’s voice murmured through the wood. Gentle. Steady. “Whatever it says, I’m right here.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. Your heart felt like it was being crushed by a fist too big to fit in your chest.

When the alarm rang, you froze. You couldn’t move.

So Rafe did it for you.

He slipped into the bathroom and crouched in front of you, reaching for the pregnancy test with calloused fingers. One glance at the screen and he knew.

He didn’t speak right away. Just blinked.

Then: “You’re pregnant?”

Your bottom lip wobbled. You couldn’t say it. Couldn’t breathe it aloud.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking like glass. “Rafe—oh my God—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t trying to—”

“Stop.” He cupped your face fast. Firm. “You didn’t do shit. Don’t say sorry. Don’t you dare apologize.”

“But everyone’s gonna—”

“Fuck what everyone’s gonna do or say,” he snapped. His jaw was tight, eyes darker than you’d seen in weeks. “They’ve been looking for a reason to hate you ever since you stopped playing their perfect little part. You didn’t ruin anything. You made something. Something ours and I’m happy.”

He pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you like he was afraid you’d break open, fall apart.

“I’ve never been this happy in my life,” he whispered into your hair. “Not ever.”

And he meant it.

He carried you out of that bathroom like you were fragile and holy, like you weren’t drowning in guilt and fear. Like this was a blessing—not a scandal.

Then he knelt in front of you on the bed, rested both hands on your belly, and kissed it so softly your breath caught in your throat.

“Hi, baby,” he murmured. “It’s me. Your daddy.”

You cried so hard you couldn’t speak.

By the end of the week, everyone knew.

They didn’t ask how you were. Didn’t call to say they were praying for you. They just stared.

The whispers came first. Slut. Whore. Fallen.

Then came the side-eyes in the grocery store. The pity the pews. Someone left a crumpled flyer for the abortion clinic on your windshield after Bible study.

Your mama wouldn’t look at you. Your daddy stopped calling you “sweetheart.” The choir director told you maybe it was best if you took “a little break” from singing worship.

You’d never felt so alone.

But Rafe?

Rafe stayed solid.

When someone spat at your feet outside the diner, he walked you to the car with a hand on your back and eyes burning straight through anyone who looked too long.

He bought baby clothes and folded them himself, one by one, like they were made of lace. He started working doubles, stashing away money for a place “where no one knows your name but me.”

And when you woke up crying one night—heart shattered from another voicemail full of shame—he kissed your stomach again and whispered, “You don’t need them. You’ve got me. And this baby? They’ve got us both.”

By the time you moved, you didn’t even leave a note.

Just packed what you could carry and left the rest behind: your white church dress, your mama’s judgment, the cross necklace that used to mean something.

Rafe drove. His arm stayed around your shoulder the whole way, fingers threaded into yours.

You left behind a life.

But you were building something better. Warmer. Wilder. Yours.

And in the flickering motel light that night, with your hands on your growing stomach and Rafe watching you like you were the only thing that mattered.

You finally believed it.

You weren’t ruined.

You were reborn.

[jaylaxies]

TEASER: YOURS (MAYBE?)

PAIRING: jake x fem!reader x jay

GENRE: enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, smut, fluff, humour, angst.

TEASER WC: 1988 words! (est. 33k words)

SYNOPSIs: Your best friend’s wedding was supposed to be the well-earned vacation you’d been dreaming of, the perfect escape and much needed breather. Instead, you’re stuck sharing a room with your ex-rival, and the previously quiet, enigmatic boy from university, both seemingly perfectly poised to turn this trip into a carefully orchestrated plan to woo you.  Alternatively: Challengers, but your playground isn’t a tennis court, it is the bedroom which you share with Jay and Jake.

WARNING: the fic will contain 18+ content, minors dni.

A/N: hihi loves <3 sorry for the delay but the fic got way longer than intended! so i’ll just leave a little teaser as something to compensate while i finish editing. <3

taglist is open! comment/send an ask to be added <3 (make sure to have your age visible on your blog!)

Chapter 1: The boy I forgot Vs. The boy I can’t. 

Being late to your best friend’s wedding trip was the lowest you could have sunk down, and you did. 

Well, granted, it was courtesy of your work which never gave you holidays, but alas, you managed to get a week off, now rushing out of the airport with your two heavy luggage bags, not to mention the backpack and purse you managed to carry along, trying to spot the bride, Karina, who still proceeded to pick you up in the midst of all the wedding preparation chaos. 

She launches herself at you even before you had the time to react, engulfing you in a hug so tight as if you hadn’t met her over dinner just the week prior. 

“You’re so fucking late,” she screamed, shaking you as you finally elicited a laugh, waving back at her fiancé, Jeno, who was smiling like a puppy seeing his fiancée so joyous. 

“Blame my boss, he fucking made me work overtime to the point I had to cancel my flight and take the ticket for the next one,” you groaned, letting the couple help you with your luggage and share everything you’ve missed so far—which somehow didn’t include the room assortment, yet. 

Karina chats your ear off the entire ride to the Airbnb villa booked especially for the friends, other families and guests having different villas all to themselves, her voice practically vibrating with sheer excitement, but it’s not until the car takes a sharp turn into a winding hill that your stomach twists with something else—anticipation.

“You’ll love the place,” she says, “and the people—well, mostly.”

You shoot her a look. “Mostly? You let me take care of everything, from helping with your wedding dress to finalizing the flowers and arrangements, but didn’t let me take a single look at the guest list, should I be worried?” 

“Let’s just say, there are a few strong personalities. You’ll see.”

You narrow your eyes but let it slide, muttering, “yeah I’m worried.” She’s already looking smug, and you had a bad feeling about it now that your car neared the villa for the next few days, and you did have a slight hint about what was to come, to which you simply prayed for it to be wrong. 

It was something straight out of a pinterest board, cream coloured walls, string lights adorning it, the faint scent of gardenia drifting through the slight breeze, cooling down the otherwise warm atmosphere. You’re still staring at the view as you get another hug attack from Winter, who was more than excited to see you after the few weeks you spent away, because you still met up after subsequently completing the university. 

A small genuine smile graced your face as you started catching up, “god—wait. I need Karina to finalize the aisle placements, I’m sorry, Y/N, we’ll be back in a second.” She says, rushing away, seeming more bothered than the bride to be herself, who was enjoying every second of it. 

You weren’t sure what you expected when you stepped into the villa, but it definitely wasn’t this.

The place looked like something out of a design magazine—open plan with warm wooden floors, arched doorways, and morning light spilling across the ceilings. Plants dangled beautifully from the pots, and a soft ocean breeze danced through linen curtains like the house was exhaling out elegance.

It was like a perfect Pinterest wedding destination, almost like a spot where people would fall in love seamlessly. 

Unfortunately, you were not here for love.

You were here for Karina’s wedding, and most importantly, you were especially not here to run into—

“Well, if it isn’t the prodigy herself.”

That voice—you froze mid-step, every muscle in your spine stiffening like instinct. No. Absolutely not, that could not be him, could he? 

You turned slowly, already preparing your sigh, and found yourself face to face with none other than Park Jongseong. 

Great.

Same perfect posture, same cocky half-smile. Tall, annoyingly handsome, and dressed like the poster boy for a casual rich man at a coastal wedding—open shirt, silver chain, jaw sharp enough to cut glass, eyes dark enough to drown someone, and his heart shaped birthmark on the neck still standing out. 

Jay.

Your academic nemesis, your eternal debate partner. The guy who turned every university presentation into a showdown and somehow made you want to win even harder, the guy you swore you hated all three years of your undergrad uni. 

You hadn’t seen him since graduation. You’d hoped that would be the end of it, but of fucking course, fate hated you.

“Well, I see you’re still as stiff as ever,” you said, looking bored, hoisting your backpack bag higher on your shoulder, “still studying like a madman, huh?”

Jay gave a lazy smile, eyes flicking over you with the practiced indifference of someone used to winning, his eyes still wandering around your figure before he clicked his tongue, “you’re late.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, already irritated, “I’m fashionably late, there’s a difference, you wouldn’t understand, of fucking course.” You said, pointing at your amazing airport fit. 

“I’m sure there’s a spreadsheet in your bag that proves that, you always came over prepared anyway.”

You opened your mouth to deliver a killer comeback—and were immediately interrupted by another voice.

“Woah—woah, I’ve only been here ten minutes and there’s already fights unleashing, huh?”

You turned again, this time finding yourself staring into a face you hadn’t expected at all.

Jake.

Sim Jaeyun, you recognized him immediately—your old batchmate, the quiet one from your year, you remembered him as soft spoken, always with a shy smile, never really one to speak unless called on, only if you omit out recalling that one night when he did talk to you, just one night. 

Except now—now he stood beside Jay, lean and sun-kissed, wearing a faded tee that clung just right and black sweatpants that made him look nothing like the awkward boy you remembered. There was a warmth in his eyes, sure—but also something new, a flicker of playfulness, of newfound confidence.

His hair fluffier than ever, lips still pouty but in a teasing manner, and his aura now strong and warm, as if he had a halo around his head. 

“Jake?” you said, unsure, but you did remember him, not just the newly transformed version of him.

His grin was unnaturally attractive as he replied, “you remember.”

Barely, you thought, but said instead, “wow, you were—uh quiet.”

Jake chuckled, and the sound was different than you remembered too, richer, more teasing, accent evident in his voice, “yeah. Not so much anymore, I guess.”

Jay scoffed from beside him, “he still is when he loses. Don’t let him fool you.”

Jake rolled his eyes, “ignore him. He gets cranky when he’s not the smartest in the room, Mr. Know it all.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Is that why he always sulked during academic week?”

Jay turned to you with a sarcastic smile. “You were the one who stole my thesis idea in senior year.”

“I didn’t steal it, I simply executed it better.”

“Debatable.”

“Oh my god,” Jake said with a laugh, looking between the two of you, “this is amazing. It’s like watching the academic war off, but, well, this is actually interesting.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, but you quickly caught yourself. No, absolutely no humanizing your rival, not when he was right in front of you. 

Jay leaned against the entryway wall, clearly amused, “didn’t expect to see you here, honestly.”

“I’m Karina’s best friend,” you replied with an eye roll as if he was dumb, “of course I’m here.”

Jay’s expression didn’t shift, but something in his gaze sharpened slightly. “Right. Makes sense.”

Jake tilted his head as if he didn’t know, “you and Karina were close in uni?”

“We roomed together all four years,” you said, lips curving, “she’s like my sister.”

Jay gave a half, sarcastic smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “hm, that does explain the pity invite.”

You scoffed as you stepped closer, gaze daring, “are you always this good at projecting?”

“I’m always this good at reading people.”

“Then read this and stay away,” you said sweetly, flipping him off.

Jake blinked, then burst out laughing, leaning forward like the moment was a personal win, genuinely amused, “I’m sorry, that was iconic, never gets old.”

Jay shrugged, shaking his head at you, “she always had a flair for the dramatics, I wonder why she didn’t join the drama society.”

“You’re one to talk,” you muttered, but before Jay could respond, the front door opened again and Isa rushed in, grinning.

“There you are!” She said, grabbing your arm. “Come on, Karina’s doing the room assignments!”

You let yourself be dragged back inside, throwing one last glance at the boys—Jay smirking like he’d already won something, and Jake watching you with a curiosity that sent a shiver up your spine.

Room assignments, right. You could handle that, or so you thought. 

The rest of the house was gathered in the living room, lounging on floor cushions and sipping iced drinks and vodka? Well, afternoon drinking is fun, meanwhile, Karina stood in the center, a clipboard in hand and a wicked glint in her eye, that was reserved for you, apparently.

“Okay,” she announced. “Here’s how it’s going to work. We’ve got three rooms for guests. Each one has its own fun layout.”

You narrowed your eyes. That tone was never good, not when she used it looking your way, and you simply hoped that your gut feeling wasn’t right this once. 

“Room One, Isa, Winter, Yunjin.”

The girls high-fived and squealed, already plotting aesthetic corners and matching pajamas, and you stood there, knowing what was to happen when you weren’t put up with the girls. 

“Room Two, Yeonjun, Heeseung, Beomgyu, Jaemin, and Hyuck.”

Someone groaned in the back, definitely Hyuck, “why do we get the bunk beds?”

Karina grinned, “because you snore, Hyuck.”

Then she paused, flipping the page. “Room three—hm, this one’s interesting.”

Your stomach dropped when it was finally the time to say it out loud. 

“No,” you said immediately, “whatever it is you’re about to say, no.”

Karina ignored you, “room three has one double bed and one single, and it goes to—Y/N, Jay, and Jake.”

Silence.

Then the crowd erupted into laughter, Beomgyu complaining about how it should be him with you instead, meanwhile, the girls wondering who’s gonna make it out of the room alive, because with that pairing, someone was bound to murder the other.

“You’re fucking kidding,” you whispered, horrified, already reaching out to Karina who was on the verge of running away, laughing hard at your expressions, “what? No. Are you serious?”

Jay looked up from his drink with mock surprise, as if Jeno had already told him what was to happen, “Huh? That’s unfortunate.”

Jake’s eyes went wide, almost comical, “wait—what? All three of us?” He asked, pointing at himself. 

Karina nodded, grinning too wide, still rushing around trying to not get caught by you, “unless someone wants to sleep on the couch?” She asked, chuckling as she hid behind Jeno for shield. 

“I’ll sleep in the ocean,” you said flatly, moving back now that you knew Karina was safe and hiding behind a tall, muscular man. 

Jake scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I don’t mind the single bed—unless you want to share.”

Jay choked, not expecting that kind of reaction from Jake, “she’d rather sleep with a thesis on stem cell regeneration.”

“Oh my god, this can’t be happening,” you muttered.

Karina clapped her hands. “Settled! Take your bags upstairs. Good luck.”

You stood frozen as the group dissolved into laughter and chatter, your fate sealed, this trip was going to kill you.

And it hadn’t even begun yet.

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@jaeminvore @macaroonff @ajayke-reads @en-myworld @lunalovesstories @jayzdaze @deobitifull @celeste-hoon @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @ikeuizm @woniebae @lalalalawon @blessedcursd @skzenhalove @heesuncore @seuomo @kyurizeu @haechan-nahceah @tobiosbbyghorl @jezzebear @jaehoonii @itsgivingitalian @bunhoons @hyacandoit @luvswonyoung @ma-riiii @addictedtohobi @heeliopheelia @haanigurl @dopedels @kaykay11sworld @glitterjay @skzooluvr @yongbokified @prkhaven @kristynaaah @tinycatharsis @filmnings @mwahvvis @hoonprksung

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[jiuwaves]

Screams, Thrills, and You

❦ pairing ; choi seunghyun x reader 

❦ warnings ; none! entirely fluff! c:

You had one rule. One personal boundary that, until today, had gone unchallenged: Absolutely no amusement park rides.

But then again, no one said dating Seunghyun would be easy on your comfort zone.

He had begged you. Like, actually dropped to his knees in the middle of your apartment, hands clasped dramatically like he was praying to the gods of thrill-seeking.

“Jagi..” he whined, dragging out the syllable like a lovesick teenager. “Do you want me to die without ever experiencing joy with the love of my life on a rollercoaster?

You stared at him from the couch, arms crossed.

He shuffled closer on his knees, still in full performance mode. “Please, Pleaase..? Just once. Just one date. I’ll do anything!’’

You tried to hold firm. You really did but then he pouted, that ridiculous, unfairly adorable pout  and rested his head against your thigh like a wounded puppy and that was it. 

You sighed dramatically.

“Fine. One day. One park but I’m not going on anything that looks like it was designed by a mad scientist.’’

He shot up so fast he nearly headbutted you. “I love you.”

“I better not die..” you muttered, already regretting everything.

In fact, you did regret your decision.

Because as soon as you stepped through the gates of the amusement park, hand-in-hand with Seunghyun, reality hit you like a freight train on fire. Your smile twitched, faltered because the rides? They looked insane.

There were loops on top of loops, rides that swung like wrecking balls, and one that literally shot people straight up into the sky before dropping them back down like the world’s worst elevator.

“What the hell is that?!” you gasped, pointing at a ride that looked like it had been built in defiance of gravity and common sense.

Seunghyun turned to look and beamed. “That? That’s Sky Plunge! It spins while it drops while it drops!”

“Why?” you whispered, eyes wide. “Who hurt the person who designed that?”

But Seunghyun didn’t hear you or maybe he did and just chose to ignore it because he was already tugging you forward, eyes darting from one attraction to the next like he couldn’t decide which death machine to get on first.

“Come!” Seunghyun said, practically dragging you by the hand towards the ride, his excitement radiating off of him like a blast of energy.

You stumbled slightly, your legs moving but your heart was still firmly planted in ‘nope’ territory.

“Wait—WAIT!” you gasped, trying to plant your feet, but Seunghyun was relentless, already pulling you toward the massive contraption in front of you.

It looked like a twisted version of a Ferris wheel except this one was vertical, and there were people in it, upside down. You tried to imagine how that would feel. 

You couldn’t. 

Your stomach twisted into a tight knot. You should have known, but you weren’t prepared for this level of evil.

“What even is this?” you asked weakly, though you were pretty sure you already knew the answer. “This doesn’t look like a ride. It looks like something you’d see on a horror movie set.”

“It’ll turn you upside down and sideways. It’s legendary.” he said with far too much excitement, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I don’t want to be legendary! I want to stay alive!” You almost pleaded, your hand tightening in his, pulling back slightly.

But Seunghyun was persistent, his grip firm, his face shining with a joy that was honestly hard to deny. You glanced at the towering contraption again and your brain just about shut down. 

“How do you enjoy this?” you muttered, half to yourself, but Seunghyun leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

“Because I get to be with you” he whispered, his voice low and playful.

Your heart skipped a beat. He always knew how to say just the right thing, didn’t he? You wanted to argue, but the look in his eyes that soft, genuine affection made it so much harder to back out.

“Okay..” you said finally, exhaling like you were signing your own death warrant. “One ride but if I pass out, I’m blaming you.”

Seunghyun smiled and pulled you toward the ride, that cheeky grin lighting up his face. “Deal. I’ve got you and if you pass out, I’ll carry you the whole way home.”

You let out a nervous laugh, but despite the terror knotting in your stomach, you couldn’t help but smile a little as you both got strapped into the ride.

The harness clicked into place, but it didn’t provide nearly enough comfort for your rapidly pounding heart. You swallowed hard, feeling the adrenaline rush through you, not in a fun way, but in a please, make this stop kind of way.

Seunghyun, on the other hand, was practically buzzing with excitement, his eyes wide, a grin stretching across his face. He leaned over, his voice surprisingly calm.

“Jagi you’re gonna love this. It’s all about the thrill”

You forced a smile, but it was shaky at best and then, before you could even process, the ride lurched forward. The ground beneath your feet vanished, and your stomach made a sudden, violent lurch as the ride shot up like a rocket.

You immediately squeezed your eyes shut, one hand gripping down to the safety bar and the other on Seunghyun’s arm like your life depended on it. (It probably did.)

“Oh my God!” you screamed, but the wind was so loud you barely heard your own voice. 

You were launched straight up, feeling the blood rush to your head, and before you could even process it, the ride twisted and flipped upside down, sideways, every direction at once.

Seunghyun was beside you, laughing uncontrollably, his voice swallowed by the wind. 

“This is amazing!” He shouted, looking over at you, but you were in no condition to look back.

“I’m going to die!” you shouted, unable to stop yourself.

“No, you’re not!” Seunghyun yelled back, eyes sparkling even as you both swung upside down. “This is the best part!”

The ride flipped once more, and you held your breath, your hand clenching tighter around the bar as your body was thrown this way and that. You were so sure you were about to fly off the track, but just as quickly, the ride began to slow down, and the ground began to come back into view.

Once the ride came to a complete stop, you were left blinking, trying to catch your breath, eyes wide as you tried to ground yourself in reality.

You stepped off the ride like a newborn deer. Your legs wobbled beneath you, moving in completely different directions, and your vision spun like the ride was still going.

“I’m never doing that again..” you mumbled, arms flailing slightly as you tried to walk in a straight line and failed miserably.

You stumbled left. Then right. Then kind of… diagonally? Your limbs didn’t feel like they belonged to you anymore.

Seunghyun, of course, was thriving. Practically glowing. His hair was wind-tossed, cheeks flushed, smile wide. He looked like he’d just had the time of his life instead of being nearly flung into the stratosphere.

“Jagi” he said, trying not to laugh as you zig-zagged like a malfunctioning Roomba. “You okay?”

You didn’t answer. Mostly because you were busy spinning in a slow, disoriented circle, trying to figure out where the ground went.

“Oh no” Seunghyun muttered through a chuckle.

You took another shaky step, accidentally veering off to the side and straight into danger of walking into a trash can and that’s when Seunghyun stepped in, hands reaching out quickly to steady you. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you back into his chest, grounding you instantly.

You froze, still swaying slightly, your face buried against his hoodie.

“You’re walking like a drunken toddler” he whispered, clearly trying not to laugh. “A cute one, though.”

“I’m dizzy..” you mumbled into his chest, holding onto his hoodie like it was the only thing tethering you to earth.

“I noticed” he said with a smirk, his hands not leaving your waist, thumbs rubbing gentle circles. “You spun yourself more after the ride than the ride itself.”

You sighed dramatically the kind of sigh that carried the weight of love, regret, and a faint prayer to survive the rest of the day.

“We aren’t done though!”

You blinked. “...What?”

Before you could even take another step in the direction of sanity, he had dragged you in his arms  towards a rollercoaster that looked like it was designed by someone with a personal vendetta against gravity. The track had at least three full loops, a corkscrew, and one drop that looked illegal.

You stared at it in horror. “That’s not a ride. That’s a cry for help.”

Seunghyun laughed, not even slowing down. “It’s called The Inferno Loop. Sounds fun, right?”

“No! It sounds like a warning!”

“Too late!” he said, kissing the side of your head as if that would somehow erase the dread bubbling in your chest. “You're already in line. Technically.”

You looked around. He was right. Somehow, probably thanks to your state of stunned shock you were already at the entrance, ride signs flashing red and orange like a portal to hell.

“I hate you..” you mumbled again, gripping him tighter.

He looked down at you with that boyish grin. “You say that, but you’re still in my arms. Doesn’t seem very hateful.”

You groaned. He’s lucky he is cute. 

He kissed your forehead gently, a quick press of warmth and affection before pulling you with him into the next circle of hell otherwise known as the rollercoaster loading area. The seats looked sleek and deadly. Like futuristic torture devices. You eyed them with deep suspicion as Seunghyun practically skipped toward the front row like he was boarding a first-class flight.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this again..” you muttered as you slowly, reluctantly took your seat beside him.

The staff moved quickly, lowering the thick safety bars over your shoulders. It locked in with a solid click, a sound that sealed your fate.

You stared at the bar, then at Seunghyun, who was already beaming like a kid on Christmas morning. 

“This is gonna be insane!” he said, gripping his own harness with excitement.

You didn’t respond. You just blinked at him.

Seunghyun looked over at you, his grin practically stretching ear to ear, the wind already rushing past as the ride climbed higher.

“Ready?”

“Absolutely n—!” you started to scream, but the words barely made it out before the ride launched forward with a jolt that ripped the breath right from your lungs.

Your scream got swallowed by the wind, your whole body yanked back into the seat as the rollercoaster plummeted down the first insane drop. The track curved into a massive loop and your brain short-circuited. Gravity didn’t exist anymore. Neither did your sense of self-preservation.

Meanwhile, Seunghyun?

He was Laughing.

Not just laughing, full-on cackling, hands thrown in the air like this was a casual joyride and not a near-death experience. His eyes flicked to you between the loops, your hair flying in every direction, face frozen in terror.

“You’re doing great!” he shouted over the wind.

You could only scream in response, your voice cracking as the coaster twisted through a sideways corkscrew, your stomach left behind somewhere three loops ago.

By the time the ride finally came to a screeching halt, you felt like you had just been through a tornado, a war, and an exorcism all at once.

Your voice was hoarse from screaming your lungs out, your hands were still clamped tightly around the safety bar like it owed you rent, and your heart was thundering like you’d just run a full marathon. 

Twice.

You tried to stand, really, you did but the second you unbuckled the harness and attempted to step out, your legs wobbled beneath you like they were made of overcooked noodles. Then you clutched the side of the ride’s seat, trying to stay upright with your entire body shaking like you’d just been through a natural disaster. 

Seunghyun stepped off the ride effortlessly, already bouncing on the balls of his feet, still riding the high of adrenaline. He turned around to help you and paused.

“Oh jagi…” he said, eyes wide with poorly hidden amusement as he saw you swaying in place, arms stretched like a baby deer trying to walk on an ice rink.

“I don’t think I can walk” you mumbled, trying to shift your weight and immediately regretting it.

Without another word, Seunghyun stepped forward, slid his arms under your legs and behind your back, and just lifted you. You gasped, flailing slightly as he cradled you like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“Shhh” he said dramatically.

“You’ve been through enough. Let me carry my brave little warrior princess.”

You buried your face in his hoodie in sheer exhaustion and embarrassment.

“..Stop calling me that”

“You faced death for me. Screamed like a banshee. Almost passed out.” he grinned, starting to walk away from the ride platform with you in his arms.

People were definitely looking, but Seunghyun didn’t care. In fact, he looked proud of the whole situation.

“Don’t worry” he added, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’ll recover. I’ll feed you snacks, get you a plushie, and tell you how hot you looked screaming.”

“Seunghyun.”

“Yes, jagi?”

“…Put me down.”

“Absolutely not. You’re mine now. Carrying you forever.”

[vaaaaaiolet]

Leon's lifeline for the past two months has been a chance encounter he met at a bar. At an abandoned payphone in the dead of night, he can only hope his guardian angel picks up his call.

mdni (mild implied sex). gn / m, HELLA pining, romance, implied alcohol abuse bc older leon, egregious overuse of religious / angel imagery, angst w/ a happy ending!

word count: 935 // read on ao3

a/n: if you know anything about me it's that: 1) i will not stop making puns even if you held a gun to my head 2) paradise edition solos your fav 3) you can tear religious imagery out of my COLD DEAD HANDS

find more drabbles in my collection: sketches for my sweetheart the drunk!

Against every neuron in his brain screaming flight, Leon breathes way too early into the receiver, “Hi?”

The payphone is a cold metal kiss against his ear. The night rain works double time to chill him right through. He’s always had bad luck. Leon never meant for it to go this far. Never meant to let things get so out of hand with you, the angel he ran into at a bar two months ago. 

Something about you just sticks. The quarter he fed into the pay slot did too. He should’ve taken it as a sign to let it go, let the drizzle soaking through his government-issued suit order him straight home from the airport, but the heart’s a heavy burden when it’s empty and besides, it gives him something to dream about.

So Leon stays. Prays you pick up. 

The music was loud the night Leon met you. He’s tried convincing himself you’re an earworm instead. You tick all the boxes, too. He can’t get you out of his head (one). Leon had offered you a drink on a whim. You’d told him his eyes looked like pieces of sky fallen to earth, and maybe it was because you saw home in him that he saw it in you. 

It was probably his own gin and tonic steering him astray. It could’ve been the twinkle in your eye when Leon kissed your knuckles in the red flush of the stoplights streaming in through the front window. But sooner than later, you had him wrapped around your wings. It just felt right with your feet off the ground when he’d hoisted you up under your thighs.

You sang so pretty in his arms. Leon’s postmarked for hell for sure. He’d taken you apart in a quiet back corner, pressed kisses down your eiderdown-soft nape, had the gall to smile at the shiver he brought out in your shoulders. You fit him like a glove. Every sweet gasp of his name that left your lips, Leon had burned into his brain to play on loop (two). 

Leon, Leon, Leon.  

And now, two months later, Leon realizes he’s angry about it. Not because of how outdated that is – seriously, who burns CDs anymore? – but because he didn’t know he was doing it. And that he’d do it for so long. He’d come to depend on the savior of your laugh to pull him through nights he’d spend with moonshine or an emptied magazine in different, more unfortunate circumstances. The memory of your voice put his fear to sleep. It was only a matter of time before Leon was skipping church in favor of taxi cab confessionals, drunk under the passing streetlights. Reciting the silvery lyric of your name under whiskey breath (three) as good as turned him into an acolyte. 

One, two, three rings pass before the line drops. Leon slips in his last quarter and punches in again the 10 digits that haunt his dreams. 

Why should you pick up? Maybe he’d hallucinated you tucking your number into his hand before you’d kissed him goodbye. Your wings could’ve been made out of paper, a false idol of Leon’s desperate invention, a feather dropped into his jean pocket from when he plucked you out of heaven. Of course he’d be the hero of the greatest love story that never was. The longest romance novel never written.

The dial tone stretches skyward. Leon sinks his teeth into his lip, stifles a dying scream to God with an aching throat. He doubts he’d listen. 

Because even after all this time, Leon is impatient. The whole city’s asleep except him. The downpour is knifing into his back and he doesn’t want to wait for the day so he can turn sunshine into sugar; Leon wants to pull the sun into his mouth. All this praying on his knees and he can’t even put his mouth on you, can’t put into use all the practice he’s had saying your name. 

He never even offered you a dance. Some kind of gentleman he is. The president’s bitch at attention and a poor excuse of a prodigal son to boot, standing at this payphone and pretending it’s only rain sliding down his cheeks. 

So when the receiver echoes back his greeting, Leon thinks it’s a cruel test. He’s sullen, tasting bitters again.

“Hello?” it repeats softly, “Leon?”

And it’s you.

Leon gasps your name, clutching the phone to his chest and scrambling to answer back. “You didn’t- is it really you?”

You laugh like tinkling bells, lovelier than he remembers. “You sound just the same.”

“And so do you.” Leon runs an incredulous hand through his hair. “How’d you know it was me?” 

“You started off with a ‘hi’. Normal conversations start with the word ‘hi’ and we’ve never had a normal conversation. It didn’t sound right with your voice.”

You remembered how he sounded. He’d called for you and you’d heard.

“I regret that. I’d like to have one of those with you sometime,” he admits. 

“It’s been a while.”

“You don’t- you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Can I be honest?” you whisper.

Leon holds his breath.

“I forgot to put my name on my number and I thought you’d never call.”

Tomorrow, Leon decides when he asks you to meet him for dinner at the Italian place you’d once told him about, right across the old church and the bar where he’d once met an angel, he’ll tell you he was always going to come back home.

And he hopes you’ll forgive him for being late.

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