#cotton bed covers online

[jagdishstoresonline]

A Beginner’s Guide to Buying Bedspreads

Bedspreads are single-layer bedding toppers that cover the entire bed right upto the floor. The term bedspread includes all covers that go on top of the bed. They can be either thick or thin and are available in a variety of fabrics

A bedspread is an oversized sheet of cloth that covers the bed entirely to the floor. Commonly called quilted bedspreads, these light-weight, quilted covers decorate the bed. We can use quilted bedspreads as is or with a comforter to help us in both summers as well as winter.

Bedspread sets are five-piece sets that usually include a bed cover that covers the whole bed, two pillow covers, and two cushion covers. 

They are available in various patterns such as solid, printed, embroidered, etc., and multiple fabrics, including cotton, polycotton, suede, silk, poly silk, etc. A cotton bedspread is suitable in places with scorching weather. Polycotton works for areas with normal/cold weather. Similarly, silk is an excellent alternative for people who want to avoid hair falling and wish to add a touch of luxury to their rooms. 

Uses of Bedspreads:

A bedspread helps customers by:

Providing the bed with a cover and keeping it free from     dust;

Helping maintain the longevity of the bed sheet before     it has to be changed;

Keeping you comfortably warm in summer with a light     sheet;

Providing warmth in winter over blankets;

Tying the bedroom's look together and giving it a more     consistent look.

 Do's and Dont's:

Several factors need to be considered before buying bedspreads:

Examine if it is washable and can be cleaned easily;

Check if it is stain-proof;

It should be light-weight to keep you comfortable in     summer;

Check the dimensions so it can adequately cover your     bed;

Read about the return and replacement policies of the     brand you buy from; and

Read the reviews before you buy a product.

Using bedspreads with matching pillows and cushion covers brings a sense of luxury to your bedroom and subsequently makes it look very balanced in terms of looks and uniformity. An excellent value for money, these products are suitable for year-round use, i.e., their use is not restricted to a particular season, as is the case with blankets and cotton quilts. Available in both online and offline stores, bedspreads also help keep your skin healthy by keeping the dust away from the bedsheet and help keep you cozy at night subsequently bettering your quality sleep.

[tranceindia123]

The art of the comforter which is cozy pieces for every season

Humans and sleep have a very intimate relationship. Everybody longs for that haven of solace and renewal when anxieties vanish and dreams come true. At Trance Home Linen, we think that a beautifully selected comforter and a sumptuous bed are the keys to unlocking this nighttime routine. In contrast to bedspreads, which are mostly used for decoration, comforters, and quilts provide a layer of luxurious luxury beyond simple warmth. They take on the role of an extension of the self, a luxurious cocoon that whispers promises of sound sleep. Mother Nature's seasonal symphony requires our haven of slumber to adjust accordingly. At Trance Home Linen, we provide a carefully chosen assortment of quilts and comforters that are made to complement the seasonal weather changes. Comforters are perfect for people who long for a sense of security and coziness because of their filled construction, which offers significant warmth and weight. Without putting you at risk of overheating, this emits a gentle warmth, like the cotton casing premium double comforter (aangan blue white & 100% cotton). They are thicker and heavier than blankets, which makes them perfect for colder areas. They are frequently stuffed with down or synthetic materials.

[amoraada]

Homeamorada: Elevate Your Dining Experience with Exquisite Printed Napkin Sets

Introduction to Homeamorada’s Printed Napkin Sets At Homeamorada, we believe that every detail in your home matters, especially when it comes to setting the perfect dining table. Our printed napkin sets are designed to add a touch of elegance and color to your meals, making every dining occasion a special one. Crafted with care and designed with style, our napkins blend functionality with aesthetics, transforming your table setting into a delightful experience for you and your guests.

Why Choose Printed Napkins from Homeamorada? Printed napkins are more than just functional items; they are essential accessories for any sophisticated table setting. Here’s why our printed napkin sets stand out:

Aesthetic Appeal: Our napkins feature unique prints ranging from classic florals to modern geometric patterns, suitable for all tastes and occasions.

Quality Fabrics: Made from high-quality materials, our napkins are soft to the touch yet durable enough to withstand repeated washes.

Versatility: Perfect for daily use or special events, our napkin sets are designed to complement any dinnerware and decor style.

Exploring the Variety of Printed Napkin Sets at Homeamorada Homeamorada offers a diverse selection of printed napkin sets, each designed to enhance your dining experience:

Seasonal Collections: Reflect the changing seasons with our themed napkin sets, perfect for holidays, spring brunches, or cozy autumn dinners.

Designer Editions: Collaborations with renowned designers bring exclusive prints and patterns that elevate any meal to a work of art.

Customizable Options: For those special occasions, personalize your napkin sets with monograms or bespoke designs.

The Art of Table Setting with Printed Napkins Setting a table with printed napkins involves more than just placing them next to your plates. Here are some tips to elevate your table setting:

Fold Creatively: Experiment with different napkin folds to add an element of sophistication to your table. Whether a simple rectangle or an intricate bishop’s hat, each fold can enhance your table's overall look.

Coordinate Colors: Choose napkin prints that complement your tablecloth and crockery. This harmony in colors and patterns makes for a visually appealing setup.

Accessorize: Pair your napkins with stylish napkin rings or place them creatively on your dinner plates to make an inviting statement.

How to Care for Your Printed Napkin Sets To keep your Homeamorada printed napkins looking their best, follow these care tips:

Washing: Machine wash on a gentle cycle with like colors. Our napkins are designed to retain their color and texture through multiple washes.

Drying: Air dry or tumble dry on low to maintain the fabric's integrity. Avoid high heat as it might cause shrinkage or fading.

Ironing: If necessary, iron on a low heat setting to keep napkins crisp and smooth.

Why Homeamorada is the Choice for Printed Napkin Sets Choosing Homeamorada for your printed napkin sets means selecting a brand that values quality, design, and customer satisfaction. Our commitment to providing beautifully designed, high-quality products ensures that each meal is not only a feast for the taste buds but also a visual delight.

Conclusion Homeamorada’s printed napkin sets are more than just dining accessories; they are essential elements that reflect your personal style and elevate your dining experience. Whether you’re hosting a dinner party or enjoying a meal with family, our napkins add a layer of elegance and charm to your table setting.

Visit Homeamorada today to explore our exclusive collection of printed napkin sets and transform your dining area into a spectacular showcase of design and comfort.

[busdeals]

Build Your Bedroom Comfort with Luxurious Single Cotton Duvet Cover Dubai

High-quality bedding is crucial for achieving a warm and welcoming bedroom atmosphere. The unmatched comfort and classic beauty of single cotton duvet covers make them stand out among the many alternatives. Good fortune smiles upon you if you find yourself in Dubai, a city famous for its love of finery and opulence. Learn about the best ways to enhance the coziness of your Dubai bedroom with high-quality, one-piece cotton duvet covers.

Investigating Dubai's Single Cotton Duvet Cover Options 

Indulge in exquisite bedding in Dubai, a city known for its luxury and sophistication. There are many alternatives to duvet cover set Dubai, but nothing beats the quality and comfort of a single bed cover. These duvet covers are made from high-quality cotton, which is known for its remarkable softness and breathability. They will help you get a good night's sleep.

A Knowledge of Single Bed Duvet Covers 

It is crucial to grasp the intricacies of sizing before delving into the realm of single cotton duvet cover. The snug and fitted fit of single bed duvet covers results from their specific design for use with single bed mattresses. Because of this, you won't have to worry about the bedding moving around or bunching up while you sleep.

Single-Bed-Size Duvet Covers and Their Advantages 

Single cotton duvet covers are popular among picky shoppers due to their many advantages. In addition to being exceptionally long-lasting and durable, they are also exceedingly pleasant and soft. Their inherent permeability also aids in temperature regulation, making them ideal for use throughout the year as a bed.

An Online Store for Buying a Single Duvet Cover for sale

Ease of use is paramount in modern society. Luckily, there is no better option than the utmost ease and versatility when purchasing a single Bed cover online. From the convenience of your home, you may peruse many possibilities and have the duvet cover of your choice sent straight to your door with the simple click of a mouse.

Introducing Bus Deals Today

Affordable, high-quality bedding is essential; Bus Deals Today gets that. Discerning shoppers will love our selection of single cotton duvet covers because they provide unparalleled value without sacrificing comfort. Our duvet covers result from painstaking craftsmanship and meticulous attention to detail.

How to Pick Out the Perfect Duvet Cover for Your Needs 

Before you buy a duvet cover:

Consider the material, thread count, and style.

Choose 100% cotton with a thread count of 300 or more for the softest, longest-lasting garments.

Consider how the design will complement the rest of your bedroom furnishings and your taste.

Cotton Duvet Covers for One Person to Elevate Bedroom Decor 

Single cotton duvet covers are incredibly comfortable and may also be a fashion statement for your bedroom. Make your bedroom reflect your identity by playing with color, pattern, and texture to find what works best.

Client References 

However, it would help if you did not rely on our word alone. Our one-cotton duvet covers have received rave reviews from happy customers: 

After trying the duvet covers from Bus Deals Today, I realized how much of a difference bedding can make. I've never slept better than on these extraordinarily plush and comfortable mattresses. Emily S.

After months of looking, I discovered the ideal duvet cover at Bus Deals Today. It has stunning good looks and is also quite comfy and long-lasting. My purchase has brought me nothing but joy. | Michael R.

Care for Blanket Covers Made of Single Cotton 

Following the care recommendations carefully will prolong the life of your single cotton duvet cover. Wash the duvet cover in cold water with similar colors in the machine and dry it on a low heat setting. Bleach and fabric softeners can ruin cloth and its softness; therefore, it's best to avoid them.

Conclusion 

Adding opulent single cotton duvet covers to your bedroom will enhance your comfort and sleep quality. The ideal blend of form and function, these duvet covers are exceptionally soft, long-lasting, and breathable. Then why postpone? Invest in the pinnacle of bedding luxury for yourself and turn your bedroom into a haven of tranquility.

[allurilove]

Yandere Boyfriend x you

Rated 18 + -- mature long (?) content!

Includes: Headcanons of possessive, obsessive, and perverted behavior, stalking, rough sex, pretty gender neutral, jealousy, hair pulling, handjobs, going on vacation with you.

*Thanks for all the love on the first post, and here’s a continuation! Here is the third part! It’s a much longer version, and he’s now referred to as “your boyfriend!” This is gonna be a long one, and then I'll take a bit of a break to write yandere priest! This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: Your wish became true, and now you have a boyfriend. He loves you immensely, and now that you two live together, he feels like his life is complete.

He never believed to see a more beautiful and attractive person than you. You have his heart and soul in your possession, all ready and willing for you to devour.

Take him, claim him, and he’ll be at your feet worshipping you forever.

He was stoked to be able to have access to your bedroom 24/7. It was like he struck gold as you shown him your newly decorated room. It felt surreal to be your roommate, and the fact that you two would be living under the same roof made it hard for him to control his urges. He knows he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. You were off to class, and his hand was on the doorknob. He slowly pulled the door back, and all of your clothes were revealed to him. He reached out and gently touched the fabric of your clothes, his hands feeling the smooth silk, or the fuzzy cotton shirt. He leaned in to sniff the closet, and your natural scent fills his nose. He sighed and he stepped in, he closed his eyes as your clothes enveloped him like a hug.

Your classmate slowly pulled down his pants, his face digging into your sweater as he kept inhaling the soft aroma from your fragrance. He had to keep himself busy somehow. He started to shuffle around the apartment, his pants pulled down to his feet and he looked like a penguin as he walked to the bathroom. He grabbed your towel you frequently used, and he sniffed that too. Your classmate began to rub himself, his fingers touching the outline of his manhood. It stood strong and proud, it was a bit heavy and sort of curved to the left. He used his free hand to start jerking himself off.

It was almost like a routine for him. He would wake up at the same time as you, watch you leave the house and wave goodbye, and then go back to your room to sleep. He soon began to grind onto your pillow. Or he would wrap himself in a little burrito with your covers.

You two had your great moments as "classmates", and had your little movie nights when you were done with class. You had a huge bucket of popcorn on your lap, and it was mixed with your favorite candy, with sweet and savory kernels as well. He would always grab for some when you did- just to brush his hand against yours.

While living with your classmate…he soon became your boyfriend. It sort of happened when you two got drunk and ended up making out in his bed. His lips were soft, his tongue swirled with yours, and he could taste the peach liquor.

Living with him was great: he frequently cleaned, always did the laundry, and he would steal a couple of your intimates. You almost caught him, and you could see the little fabric poking out of his pocket, but he had distracted you by pulling you to the bedroom.

You were getting a bit suspicious that he was at the apartment all the time, but he promised he just had online classes. He then started to be a Photoshop pro. He would create fake grades, and fake assignments he had to do, and he realized that it would be odd if he was available all the time. So, he actually had to sneak into campus and pretend he was a student there. His heart ached as he had to send "I'm actually busy and can't make it" text to you. Knowing damn well that he had nothing going on.

You two went on dates. He always took you out somewhere new, he never once wanted you to feel bored with him. He bought tickets to this stand up comedian you liked, and you both sat down onto your seats. It went well, literally too well. He grits his teeth as he hears another laugh from you. I mean c'mon, the comedian wasn’t that funny.

Now that he thinks about it… he doesn’t remember a time when he made you laugh like that. Even when he made notes of all the things you found hilarious. His eyes widened at the realization, and he started to doubt himself. Maybe he wasn’t even funny, no matter how hard he tried-- oh god!

You nudged him to see his reaction, his eyes were shining with love as he looked over to you, but he covered the lower half of his face. And he silently mouthed “Count your days” to the comedian.

He gripped onto his thighs, his eyes narrowing at the ground as he silently fumed. He didn’t want to seem overbearing, and you were having a good time, so he kept his thoughts to himself. You made fun of him that night. While you guys were walking back home, he frowned as you mocked his tense expression.

“Oh stop it.” He grumbled and he looked away. He looked so cute when he pouted, and he crossed his arms.

Though deep down, he liked that he made you smile. Even if you were laughing at him, it was still a win in his books. He sighed and decided to reel you in by wrapping his arm around your shoulder, and he brought you close.

You also got a lot of noise complaints. It was embarrassing to even bump into your neighbors when you left your apartment. They sent you nasty glares, eye rolls, and out right told you to keep it down. They thought you were a porn fein.

Your back arched as your boyfriend thrusted into you, and you held him tightly against you. Being with him was always passionate, he was ravenous and acted as if he had been starved of your warmth. He let out a loud groan. He also had the tendency to curse, the bed shook as he picked up the pace- the headboard repeatedly slammed into the wall. You also had to buy a new bed frame after he broke the other one.

He leaned down and he nibbled and nipped at your neck, he loved to leave hickeys and marks on you. His hands lifted your legs up and onto his shoulders, pressing your thighs to your chest. The bed creaks underneath your weight, and he reaches down to caress your flushed cheek.

When you saw him open his mouth to say something dirty, you quickly silenced it with your hand. He peered down curiously, his brow raised, and he tilted his head in confusion. You remind him to keep it down, and that the people next door will hear.

The next day: you hid yourself in a hoodie, running to the bus stop as you ignored your neighbors heckles.

After you were done with class, you two went to the gym to work out. You promised to help him build some muscles, and teach him how to run properly. He sometimes wished he didn’t have a dick. He listened to you explain some random machine, and he grabbed a towel to cover his crotch. You saw how he would nervously dart his eyes around, completely unable to look at you without drooling.

As a punishment, you got him to start running on the treadmill. He pants as you continued to speed up the machine, and sweat began to drip down his body.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Your boyfriend whined, and he had to keep pushing his body to the limits. "I thought you liked me..." He joked as he wiped the sweat off his neck.

When he missed you, he disguised himself when he would follow you around campus. He hid himself behind a bookshelf after he stalked you to the library. He lowered his shades to see what you were reading.

“Excuse me?” Another student tapped on his shoulder.

“Piss off.” Your boyfriend said curtly, and he slapped their hand off him. “Can’t you see that I’m busy?”

The student looked at him and then followed his line of sight. They were going to ask him to move so they could grab their book, but when they saw his flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, and his odd heavy breathing… they realized he was stalking you and was probably a creep. The student gulped, slowly backing away as they flagged down security.

You had to save your boyfriend from the arms of a buff man. It was almost funny to see your boyfriend get manhandled by security, his feet dangling off the ground, and he continued to say that the guard was embarrassing him.

Your boyfriend still kept in touch with your siblings, he actually grew to liking them, and when winter break came around, he followed you back home. He stepped inside the familiar house, and he greeted your parents first. He handed presents around to your family, and he quickly put on a white beard and red hat for the kids.

He genuinely started tweaking when he was introduced to your life long childhood friend, and ex. He forced a smile and his grip was tight as he shook your ex lovers hand. Your boyfriend continues to give your ex a sideways glare whenever they were near him, or when they would touch you, he would accidentally push them into the christmas tree.

He holds your hand during dinner, and conveniently turns away when your ex asked him pass the rolls. When you reach over to grab the basket for yourself, your boyfriend handed them to you immediately. His expression souring as you gave one to your ex too.

“I think they meant to give it to me.” Your boyfriend grunts, and he picks the bread off your exes plate and shoves it into his mouth.

You kicked him out of bed that night. He had to sleep on the tiny ottoman, it was either that or sleeping on the floor. But he refused to lay down where he couldn’t see you. He sulked, and his body curled up into a fetal position as he saw you sleeping comfortably on the bed.

Your boyfriend slowly unraveled his body and he prowled towards you. His face rubbed up against your thighs, and he murmured “I’m sorry” into your skin. His lips trailing up to your inner thigh. When you pull away, he rolled his eyes, and he flipped you over onto your stomach.

“Do you like your ex more than me? Is that it?” His voice is calm but you can hear the underlying irritation in it. “Do you get all hot and bothered when you think about them?”

“Do you think about them when you’re with me?” He yanked on your hair, and you wince as you feel a burn at your scalp.

He rubbed his sore cheek after you hit him, and you made him sit in the corner to reflect on his behavior. He sighs and he leans his head back onto the wall, his eyes glancing at your sleeping form. You did tell him he couldn't sleep on the bed, but was he going to listen...? He got up from his spot, and he tiptoed towards you, and he laid down next to you. He was successful until your eyes shot open and glared at him, he quickly slinks away in fear.

Your family decided to take you guys to the slopes. You were still mad at your boyfriend, but you helped him put on his clothes. You roughly zipped up his jacket, wrapped the scarf around his neck, and shoved him into the van. He did not like sitting next to your ex. The car ride was tense for him, and your boyfriend was nice to your parents and thanked them for bringing him along. He rolled his eyes as he heard your ex do the same-- damn copycat.

He awkwardly sat there, you were on his left, and your ex on his right. Your boyfriend stared out the window, occasionally making conversation with you, and when you guys came to the gas station to fill up the car- he couldn't wait to jump out.

Your boyfriend stared at the road as your parents pumped the gas into the vehicle, he stretched his limbs and he couldn't help but wonder how long it would take him to walk back home.... surely it wouldn't be that far. He didn't want to leave you with your psychotic ex. I mean, he didn't know for sure they were a nut case, but he liked to believe they were. However, he also didnt want to be here so... he pulled out his phone and he looked it up, damn. 15 hours?

"Thinking about running away?"

Your boyfriends body stiffened as he heard your ex's voice. He sighed heavily, and he turned around to see the person in front of him. He looked at them up and down... realizing they were wearing the same colors. They looked like they were matching. Fuck.

"You would like that wouldn't you?" Your boyfriend shoved past them and he walked inside the store to find you.

You were standing at the chips aisle, a couple of things already in your hands. Your boyfriend grabbed a beef jerky and made his way to you, his body behind yours, and he pressed himself against you. He kissed your cheek, and his hands rubbed your sides.

"Are you still mad at me?" He moped.

"Are you being nice to my friend?" You said back.

He stayed silent for a bit, contemplating what to say. I mean he could lie, but he decides not to. "I think you're asking a bit too much from me."

The rest of the car ride was silent. When you guys made it to the mountain he was shaking the entire time. He was cold, did not know how to ski, and he was stuck on the easiest slopes with the kids and beginner skiers. He flailed down the hill, he tumbled and rolled, and he crashed into a tree.

You helped him get back to the cabin after he got a concussion.

His body wasn't hurting too badly, and he whined and sniffled- really trying to make it seem he was sick. He loved the attention you were giving him, the light touch of your lips on his forehead, and when he convinced you to touch him down there, he was really happy. His back arches as you continued to move your hand underneath his pants, your thumb brushing against his tip.

"Ah~" Your boyfriend moaned. "Keep going..." his hips jerked up to meet your movements, his cock starting to twitch in your hand. His arousal formed in his stomach, before his cum finally leaked out of his member.

You shimmied his pants a bit lower and you licked his manhood, your tongue tasting the slightly salty and white fluid dripping down his length. The rest of the trip went smoothly. He would often pull you to the side to kiss you, he cooked alongside you, learned how to ski with you, learned how to knit a beanie, and of course his favorite... being intimate with you.

Your ex's room was right next door, and your boyfriend made sure to make you scream out his name every night, and vice versa. He loved to make a show of how much you two loved each other, and his hands were on your hips to help you ride him.

"So goood..." He babbled, his brows furrowed in pleasure, and he latched his lips onto your neck. "Keep ridin' me, I wanna see you lose it on my cock."

Your boyfriend was entranced with how you took him in easily, his dick disappearing into you, and felt you tighten around him. A deep growl vibrating from his throat. He plays with your nipples, pinching and he sucked on them. He twirls his tongue around your hardened nipple. When you came, he lapped up your nectar, and he kissed you.

It was soon becoming the end of your college years, and he started to panic. Especially when he heard you talking about how you're gonna walk on stage, or what you were going to wear. He panicked because he's a damn liar. He wouldn't be able to sneak his way into graduation, and it was time to come clean. He hoped you wouldn't leave him, or think he's crazy for following you across the world to be with you.

Allure: Hopefully this keeps y'all fed until I come back! Here’s the c.ai link: https://share.character.ai/Wv9R/ondwnvhr

[cottoncrumbs]

Looking for the best place to buy bedsheets online in Singapore? Look no further than our premium selection of top-quality bedsheets. With a wide range of styles, colors, and materials to choose from, we've got everything you need to find the perfect set of sheets for your home. Shop our collection today and start sleeping in style and comfort!

[discopaddock]

I DON'T WANNA TALK - CHARLES LECLERC

SUMMARY: charles is mad after the bad race, what can go wrong after screaming at his girlfriend?

PAIRING: charles leclerc x fem!reader

GENRE: angst with happy (???) ending

WORD COUNT: 0.9k

WARNINGS: screaming, crying, charles is mad, traumatizing childhood and parent, ENGLISH ISN'T NY FIRST LANGUAGE

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hiya, was inactive for a (longer) moment, school still sucks, inspiration is taking offence at me and history at school does kill me right now fr (we started the great war recently and watched im westen nichts neues - i hate this kind of films). anyway this was based in this request.

Charles was angry. No, he was furious.

Race didn't go well. He had to retire after Perez touched him and he ended up in the wall.

Race was good, for two laps he was even leading but then the Mexican showed up and Charles’ good race said “bye bye”.

“Charles,” his girlfriend said after they were finally in their hotel room.

He wasn't in the mood for talking. He didn't want her pity. He wanted to take a shower (another one) and scream in his pillow.

The girl was looking at him, worried. This wasn't the state she has seen him for many times. It was the first time actually.

“I don't wanna talk” he answered only and grabbed some clothes of his and entered the bathroom.

“If you’d like to-” she started but he turned around to face her with anger written on his face, panting.

“Shut up!” Charles yelled at her and entered the bathroom. She was left speechless. There were tears forming in her eyes that started falling down when she heard the slam of the door.

Oh, she really didn't want it to come back.

Life was good, great even, then those memories came to her mind, causing another session of crying.

The girl had no idea what to do.

Her eyesight wasn't so clear as she was looking for the tissues, convinced that her make up was smeared as hell.

When she finally found some in her bag, she next jumped on the bed and covered herself with the blanket.

Her heart was hurt, it didn't crack in shatters but still it hurt as hell.

She felt like that seven year old girl, who was standing in front of her father, crying because he yelled at her.

She was screamed at because of trying to make her dad come to terms with her beloved mother.

It was too much for little Y/N. It hunted her for years.

Especially now, when her and Charles were trying everything to have a baby. She was frightened she became the same as her father and her child would have to experience the same case as she had.

And now it was too much for adult Y/N.

She knew she should meet her therapist as soon as she could but she couldn't since she was travelling with her boyfriend around Asia for the next two weeks and her therapist wasn't doing online appointments.

And there she was, still lying on her side of the king-size bed covered with a blanket and still crying.

Charles wasn't aware of his girlfriend's reaction to his behaviour until he left the bathroom, all showered and with a clear mind, and heard sobs in the room.

He sighed only and went to the bed and took a seat beside the girl. He carefully took off the blanket of her face and saw her with smeared make up, red eyes and runny nose.

She didn't want to talk with him and put her head in the pillow, so he couldn't look at her.

“I'm sorry-” he started but her hushed by the pillow voice interrupted him with:

“I don't wanna talk.”

So Charles didn't talk more but kissed her head quickly and left to the living room, to give her space he knew she needed.

The next hour went, well, silent.

Y/N wasn't sobbing anymore, just blowing off her nose and coughing from time to time. Charles at the other hand was thinking about his new song and was trying to write any notes but he lacked at stave paper and at any keyboard or piano.

The girl finally got out of the bed and entered the bathroom. She grabbed some cotton pads and put micellar water on it and began to remove her make up.

It was a heavenly feeling for her, since her eyelids were sticking to each other because of the mascara.

Next she grabbed some cleaning foam and removed the rest of the cosmetics and put on the cream.

The girl left the bathroom and went to Charles who was sitting on the couch with some folded paper around.

He heard her steps and turned around to see her face.

“Ready to talk?” he asked only and she nodded, then sat beside him. “I'm sorry, truly” he said, looking into her eyes, that he loved so much. Now they were puffed and red from the crying.

“I know” she answered and hugged him like a koala. Charles wrapped his arms around her body, without saying any words.

“What happened?” the man asked, rubbing her back with his palm. “Tell me, I'm not leaving this without any explanation,” he added in a calm tone.

The girl was silent for a few moments. But then she told him only:

“Father was screaming at me for trying to help.”

Charles was speechless. He knew his girlfriend’s relationship with her father wasn't good, but he didn't know it was that bad. He never asked since her mother told him not to for the girl's mental state.

“I'm sorry, dove. I'm so sorry” he whispered to her ear, trying to comfort her the best he could.

“I don't want to be like him” she mumbled in the crock of his neck and he sighed.

“You are not like him,” he assured her. “You will never be like him,” he added and kissed her temple. “You are a better person than him, dove.”

“I love you” she mumbled.

“I love you too” she whispered back and they remained silent for the rest of the night, cuddled in each other’s arms.

masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 31

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Steve plies you with kisses to the point you can’t breathe. You can’t get away from him. Your top hangs beneath your chest, exposing you to him and the cooling air. He purrs and nuzzles your hair as he pulls you against him once more. 

“It’s getting late,” he purrs, “we should go inside. How about a movie night, sweetie? You and me?” 

You stare at his neck, too ashamed to look higher than that. His hands squeeze your hips and he wiggles his, reminding you of his excitement and your unbidden need. You hate that you feel this way, that you burn each time he touches you. 

“Okay,” you murmur, hoping only for a little bit of space. 

“Mm, alright,” he slips his hands up your sides and grabs the straps of your bathing suit, he raises them up to your shoulders and ties a knot behind your neck. He traces the edges and fixes the wet fabric across your tits, giving a squeeze before he wades backward, “mm, that looks so good on you... how about you go get changed? I left a surprise on your bed.” 

You nod and follow him to the ladder. He lets you go first, tickling the back of your thigh as you climb out. He stays back to close the pool and your heartbeat slowly calms, though you know it’s far from over. 

You’re sluggish as you get to the back door. It’s like you’re stuck in a fog. You know exactly what is happening, what he wants, but knowing you can’t stop any of it has you apathetic. You can only let it happen. 

You go upstairs and pause at the top. You peek down at Steve’s door. It’s closed. Your mom’s in there, she must be. Hidden away. Locked up as you deceive her. 

You continue into the guest room. Your room now, as he calls it. You go to the foot of the bed and stare at the night gown spread across the duvet. It’s a pale blush colour, the top is cotton but the skirt is sheer with a shimmery liner underneath. There’s a frill around the hem and a bow along the chest. 

You strip off the swimsuit and put it to dry on the window ledge. You retreat and cover yourself with the nightie. It’s too small. You’re about to pop out of it as the thin straps are stretched to their limit, you feel your bum peeking out the bottom. 

You try not to let the horror sink too deep. No use in crying. Nothing you can do. You leave the room and descend. The sliding door shuts and you hear Steve in the kitchen. 

You go out to see him with a towel around his waist. Even through the extra layer, his erection prods. He’s mopping up the wet spots you left on the floor. You hang your head, “sorry, I didn’t...” 

“No worries, sweetie,” he looks up beneath his blonde lashes, “oh, baby, you look...mm, you get some popcorn going and choose a movie. I’ll finish this up and get changed.” 

“Right,” you agree and go to the counter, stopping cluelessly before the cupboard. 

“In the pantry,” he points to the narrow door on the other side of the fridge, “bowls are up there.” 

You turn to see him point. You give another nod and obey. It’s easy to do the little things. What, in the end, will hardly matter. 

You enter the pantry and search out a box of popcorn, taking out a bag, and return to the kitchen. He’s gone. You’re not comforted by his absence. You put the bag in the microwave and grab a big bowl from the cupboard. You wait, watching the numbers count down, your pulse picking up with each digit. 

You pour the hot kernels into the bowl and toss the bag. The smell is not so delicious as your stomach churns. You go to the living room and set down your heaping snack on the low table. You take the remote and sit on the section. 

You click on the first title that pops up on the screen. Some redundant romantic comedy you never heard of. You set down the remote and teeter on the edge of the couch. You lower your head and fold your hands. You can’t prepare yourself for what comes next. 

Steve appears before the intro credits end. He comes around as you sit back and he lowers himself next to you. He wears only a pair of boxers. You gulp at your quick glance of his naked torso and legs. 

He’s not looking at the screen and you can feel it. He leans back, slipping his arm over your shoulders. You try to curl into yourself. 

“That nightie, sweetie,” he pets your leg just beneath the hem, “you like it?” 

You nod, “mhmm. It’s... soft.” 

“How about tomorrow I take you to buy some more? We can get you all sorts of stuff? Cute clothes, maybe some toys...” 

“Toys?” you blink. 

“To play with...” his fingertips trail up your leg, “to experiment...” 

He leans in as the television glares in your vision. You stare at the blurring hues as he presses his lips to your temple. You whimper as his hand creeps over the skirt of the nightie and along your stomach. He cups your chest, kneading and fondling, purring as he grazes your cheek with his mouth. 

“Kiss me, sweetie,” he commands. 

You turn your head and meet his lips. He pulls you into him, urging you up onto him as he lays back on the long couch. You turn onto your stomach to keep your mouth on his, your hands on his broad chest. He growls into you as his hand slips up to the back of your head, his other squeezing your chest greedily. 

You moan as you feel a pluck. He drags his hand along your chest and shoulder, following the length of your arm. He guides your hand from beneath you and along his muscled stomach. You squeak as you touch the top of his boxers. He tilts you to once side as your lips part and you try to resist his strength. 

“It’s okay, baby, I just want you to feel me,” he pushes your hand under the fabric and his throbbing tip pokes you. You whimper as he presses your hand around it and groans, “that’s for you, baby. That’s how sexy you are.” 

Your eyes widen as you look him in the face, his blue irises smokey and slitted. You poke your tongue out to wet your lips, shunting out breaths as your chest swells. He moves your hand lower, angling it to wrap around him. He’s thick... or feels like it. He keeps his hand around yours as he guides you down to his base and back up. 

“How does that feel?” 

You can’t speak. You just gape at him. He smirks. 

“Give me another kiss,” he says. 

You do what he says. What else can you do? You tremble as he pumps your hand over him, up, down. You feel the veins beneath the taut skit and a trickle of wetness as you reach the tip. He groans again and pulls away from your mouth once more. 

“Oh, sweetie,” he takes your hand from his boxers and twines his fingers through yours. He kisses your knuckles and rolls his hips, “you are so good.” 

You hide your face as his hand slips from your head and he hooks his arm around you. He sits up and swiftly flips you, spreading himself over you. He smothers you with a kiss. You murmur around his tongue as it invades your mouth. He rocks his pelvis into you, your legs splayed around him. 

He lifts himself away, nibbling longingly on your lip before pulling back completely. He pets your shoulder and rubs his fingertip over the strap of the night, urging it down. 

“I wanna try something, sweetie, stay just like this,” he says. 

He pushes himself up to his knees. He pulls down the other strap and frees your chest. You quiver and stare at the ceiling. He moves over you, straddling your stomach as he tugs down the elastic of his boxers. You squeak again and dig your nails into the cushion. 

Your eyes sting with tears. He strokes himself as his boxers crumple beneath his dick. You can’t look. Don’t look. He shifts further up your torso and hovers over your chest. You seal your lips fearfully. 

He gropes your chest and bounces it. He lowers himself, angling so his dick is between your tits. He pushes them together and tilts back, then forward, his tip hitting your chin as you yelp. He hushes you and does it again, again, again. Each time quicker than the last. More desperate. 

He thrusts and the friction grows hot. He groans and growls, rutting as he shakes the cushions with his frantic motion. You turn your head as he fucks your tits. You hear a noise, a click, then a creak. There’s a soft drone then Steve’s name. It’s your mom! 

“Steve,” she calls again from up the stairs, “where...” her voice trails off and you hear a thump on the wall, “honey, please...” 

Steve moves his hand over your chest, pressing his hand to the front of your tits to keep them together as he uses the other to cover your mouth. His face strains as he fucks harder and harder. He huffs and suppresses a snarl as he hangs his head back. There’s a slicky heat over your face as you close your eyes against the sudden explosion. 

He cums in thick ribbons over your chin and lips, up to your nose and cheeks, even your forehead. He quakes as you hear your mom struggling to get down the stairs. The couch lurches as he puffs and pushes himself off of you. You stay there, paralysed, hiding beneath your eyelids. 

“Steve,” your mom whines. 

“Honey, what’s going on?” He calls back, his voice raspy and dry. 

“I don’t feel right,” her words slog heavily, as if she can barely form them. 

“Let me get you back to bed,” he coos, “what’re you doing up?” 

“I dunno...” she slurs. She sounds senseless and her footsteps are uneven and staggered. 

“Come on,” Steve coaxes, “it’s fine. I got you.” 

[stuck1nthelimbo]

[ edging ] * jjk men x f!reader // 0.5k, 2nd pov, no beta, no specific male character, reader w/ a vagina, smut, masturbation, edging, fingering, implied intercourse || ✨m.list✨

The relaxing music of a mobile game floats around in the otherwise silent bedroom. Lying on your back, and the hood of an oversized hoodie covering your head, your nimble fingers work on unlocking online game achievements. Immersed in the fantasy world of the device, you fail to notice his intense gaze.

Leaning his head on the fist with the elbow jabbed into the mattress, his eyes trail down from the phone to the sole piece of clothing you’re wearing with the hoodie, white cotton underwear. He rests a hand on your stomach, but you pay him no heed. His limb dances around, sneaking around. The final destination is on top of your underwear. Your focus doesn’t waver, set on the game.

Fingers hover over the fabric, the pads of his digits barely brushing on the material. After a second or two, the middle and ring fingers nudge on the damp spot of the panties near the entrance. Your attention doesn't shift from the game. The long digits pulse on the underwear, rhythmically and lightly tapping against it, before withdrawing and flicking the edge of the material, gliding underneath.

As soon as his fingers come in contact with the clit, your hips jolt. Eyes might still be glued to the smartphone screen, but all of your senses disengage and concentrate on the middle finger that gradually but steadily presses between the pussy lips. The ring finger joins in, aligning around the sensitive nub, squeezing it between the phalanges of the digits. He teases until the whimper is forced out of you and as soon as your breathing becomes unsteady, he halts all motion. You whine, unconsciously humping against his hand that he yanks away as far as your stretchy panties let him.

You grip the edges of the smartphone, eyes stuck on the flickering screen. Your soaking cunt clenches around emptiness, twitching when his hand returns to its last location. The fingers resume the previous activity, sluggishly drawing circles on your clit. As time passes, his hand becomes aggressive, two fingers simultaneously grinding against the bud of nerves, with firm and erratic circling. A low gasp escapes you when those wandering fingers plunge inside and dripping walls clamp on them.

Your eyes, unfocused, stare at the screen of the device, the attention now entirely diverted to your nether region being violated. After a minute or two of edging, slowing down whenever you mewl, alerting him how close you’re to reaching an orgasm, his fingers empty your cunt. Instead, lay down flat on your pussy, covering it entirely, ceasing all movement similar to the last time.

With his hand motionless, you toss your phone aside, helplessly tugging onto his thumb and weakly pull, while confronting his wicked grin with overtly innocent and watery eyes. Something malicious glints in his. Stimulated, slumbering body props up, as his fingers fill your cunt, pumping in and out without an ounce of resistance. The clear wetness smears on the inner sides of your thighs, dripping onto the bed, the squelching sounds echoing in silence alongside your throaty huffs.

While his hand tirelessly works, he gradually positions himself between your legs, free hand clumsily feeling the outline of his painful bulge, ready for action.

a/n: in the middle of drafting, i realized i didn't have a particular character in mind; everyone fits the criteria, so imagine who you want, be free!! tagging with jjk tags, but you can imagine literally anyone lol [requests: open]

© stuck1nthelimbo; do not redistribute, repost, modify, or use in any way, form, and/or shape.

[tranceindia123]

COZY PIECES FOR EVERY SEASON - THE ART OF THE COMFORTER

Humans and sleep have a very intimate relationship. Everybody longs for that haven of solace and renewal when anxieties vanish and dreams come true. At Trance Home Linen, we think that a beautifully selected comforter and a sumptuous bed are the keys to unlocking this nighttime routine. In contrast to bedspreads, which are mostly used for decoration, comforters, and quilts provide a layer of luxurious luxury beyond simple warmth. They take on the role of an extension of the self, a luxurious cocoon that whispers promises of sound sleep. Mother Nature's seasonal symphony requires our haven of slumber to adjust accordingly. At Trance Home Linen, we provide a carefully chosen assortment of quilts and comforters that are made to complement the seasonal weather changes. Comforters are perfect for people who long for a sense of security and coziness because of their filled construction, which offers significant warmth and weight. Without putting you at risk of overheating, this emits a gentle warmth, like the cotton casing premium double comforter (aangan blue white & 100% cotton). They are thicker and heavier than blankets, which makes them perfect for colder areas. They are frequently stuffed with down or synthetic materials.

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Rat Bastard - Part 5

Pairing: You x Kyungsoo

Rating: M (Mature)

Word Count: 9684

Warnings: There were too many beds, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, UST, Idiots to Lovers

Tag: @ilovemyapopbaby

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Not even the 1000 thread-count, egyption cotton goose down stuffed, softest and most beautiful feeling against the bare skin of your legs luxury blanket could save the shit show that was the sleep you got that night.

You could lie to yourself and say that the reason you were lying here with your eyes wide open staring at the ceiling was the shrieking 150-mile per hour winds that were making this entire building groan, tremble, and shake maybe hard enough for thousands of pounds of bricks and steel to crash down on top of your head, but the real reason you were awake was because of the man who was sound asleep on the end furthest away from you of this big room.

While it was the sound of the storm that woke you up, once you were awakened, you found it impossible to fall back asleep. You had no idea what time it was and the second your mind awoke it betrayed you. It was the remnants of a dream that was interrupted. The imagery of the dream faded nearly instantly but you didn’t need the details to recognize the subject of your dream. That familiar face that had been haunting you for months and after the mistake he made tonight, that face and specifically those lips seemed to have been knitted into the fabric of your subconscious.

You rubbed your eyes. The view of the underside of the bunk bead on top of you was nearly as black as the inside of your eyelids had been. You felt the last bits of the dream slip away. It didn’t matter much because your brain simply switched from trying to grab ahold of the dream to sinking down hard into the very recent, very real actual memory of Kyungsoo’s lips and unimaginable softness of them. His lips and his teeth and his tongue and the pull from him. From his mouth, from his arms, from somewhere deep inside of his chest when he inhaled his air right from within your mouth and pulled and pulled from the center of you right smack into the center of him.

Of all the things he could have done. Of all the things he always did.It was almost as if he was tuned in and hyper aware of all of your weaknesses and ready to exploit each one of them at a moment's notice. Your sleepy mind tried to grasp it, desperate to explain it — him kissing you, and that kiss being just a drunken mistake, it felt like just another way for him to mock you.

Of course he had no way of knowing how long it had been since a handsome man had showed you attention. You hoped he couldn’t tell just how desperate you felt for it, for the touches, for the kisses, for the sex — all of it. You’d probably die on the spot if those things were also accompanied by someone also being nice to you.

This was Doh Kyungsoo you were talking about. Not only did the man despise you but he sought out to actively torture you on the daily. Before it was online but now he’d been doing it in person and what if this — what if this fucking kiss had also just been something he did for his own sick amusement because he knew you would wake up at 2 or 3 or 4am and be unable to sleep because if you touched your own lips ever so lightly with your fingertips it kinda sorta reminded you of the way it felt for that terrifyingly beautiful man to kiss you.

You dropped your hand from your face and you tossed over to your side on the bed. It squeaked as you moved and you wondered at his ability to sleep through the scariest and loudest winds you’ve ever heard in person.

Your body woke up and now you could feel your bladder calling. Any more attempts at sleep were finished.

You grabbed your flashlight and plopped your feet down on the floor, covering the beam with the palm of your hand so the whole room wasn’t lit up like the Fourth of July and with the tiny bit of light you allowed to escape you were able to navigate the straight shot between the bunks toward the bathrooms.

You had to walk by his bed to get there and you squeezed your hand around your flashlight tighter as you did it, not in any hurry to wake your own personal demon any earlier than you absolutely had to.

From the motionlessness of that tightly covered bastard sized lump on his bed, he was clearly not bothered by the storm enough to be pulled from his deep sleep.

After using the bathroom and washing your hands, all with the flashlight turned off for maximum discretion, you took a barefooted step on the floor and stepped on something hard and plastic. It hurt and you lifted your foot when you put it back down your foot landed down on something sticky and cool feeling. The room smelled overwhelmingly of peppermint.

You had to use the flashlight. You wrapped it in your sleep shirt as tightly as you could manage and you turned it on.

Toothpaste. Blue toothpaste, the kind with the tiny bits of sparkly confetti inside of it that was probably terrible for the environment. It was everywhere. There were long strands of it squirted clear across the floor in front of this sink and even several streaks on the mirror on the wall. The toothpaste cap was the piece of plastic you had stepped on and you recalled how you had tried to ignore the sounds of a great struggle you had heard in here last night after you had gone to bed. You’d heard deep grunting, water running, items clattering, and the occasional drunken mumble. You were entirely too upset at the time to even want to help him and you had some dark thoughts about how even if he slipped and broke his neck you wouldn’t even consider getting up to cover his body with a sheet. It seemed a certain overly indulgent drunk man had fought a great battle here with a tube of toothpaste and you looked down at the wrangled and crumpled capless tube that sat on the edge of the sink here and the toothbrush very carefully balanced beside it.

You, yourself, were fighting your own battle right now. You grabbed the toothbrush he’d so stupidly left behind and you lifted your foot, scooping every bit of that thick peppermint gunk off of the bottom of your foot, using the water to rinse it so you could go in again, this time using the bristles to thoroughly clean in between your toes. While he deserved it, you decided against scrubbing this whole floor or god forbid the mirror, sink and even the toilet with the thing, not because you had any sort of bad feelings about it, but because you didn’t want to work that hard at maybe 2, maybe 3, maybe 4 in the fucking morning when you should be asleep rather than be on fire from the inside and cleaning up the mess he made when he was too drunk to control himself. Instead you grabbed toilet paper to clean up the remainder of the mess and tossed the whole thing inside of the big trash bin. The entire room smelled delightful.

His toothbrush got one more pass over the bottom of your foot before you carefully placed it right back in the same spot he had left it next to the now capped tube of his toothpaste. You’d smoothed out some of those deep wrinkles caused by his careless fingers. The volume inside was much less but at least it looked somewhat normal again.

You didn’t bother with covering your flashlight as you exited. You were done with it. With feeling bad about possibly waking him up, with feeling bad for having wanted him so badly last night, with feeling any sort of way about him whatsoever. You simply moved through the room as if you were it’s only occupant and you could hardly even hear the low bellied groaning that was coming from that bed when the bright beam of your LED flashlight just happened to make a few careless passes over his bed.

You saw his closed eyes tighten and arms tensed as he pulled his crappy loser’s blanket tightly over his head. You heard the lowest curse under his breath when his hands flew up to cradle his head and he groaned out in pain.

He’d be waking up to a hangover for sure. He’d have a killer headache made so much worse by the loud sounds of the wind outside and the bright flashlight in his face. He’d be feeling even more miserable than you felt right now.

“What — time is it?” He groaned, reaching out with wandering hands within his blanket until he found something — his phone, he groaned while dropping the phone within his blankets again. You could see he’d connected his phone to charge on the snazzy portable power bank he’d won in the games. You’d won no such prize and even if you did charge it, your phone didn’t have any signal or any real purpose to serve for you to bother with charging it. Before it went out you could see that the clock on his black phone screen said 4:35am. You’d managed to get a little more sleep than you thought.

“Why are you up?” He’d obviously seen you, he’d obviously figured you’d been the one to shine the flashlight right in his face. His voice was low and very groggy sounding, “storm woke you up?” The word sexy flashed through your mind quickly and it stung like a rubber band against the flesh as you pushed it deep down.

You’d long ago dropped the flashlight from his face but something in his line of questioning had you caught off guard. Doh Kyungsoo didn’t usually ask you much about you. He felt different in his sleep. It was odd and you let the flashlight sag down just behind your back, just enough for the light beam to be more of a distant afterthought than a blinding occurrence.

“Can’t sleep,” you admitted in a whisper just quietly enough for the words to be made out over the sound of the storm.

His questions had stopped and you wondered if he had fallen back asleep but another look at him told you he wasn't sleeping but had gone silent because he was beginning to really feel it. You could see how he massaged his temples with the thumbs of both hands and after a few moments you heard another low groan of pain.

“What’s wrong?” You asked without any of the well earned smugness you really deserved, “drank too much last night?”

He rolled under his blanket and the groan turned into a moan. It sounded like he was in pain. It was a pain sound, not a sound that could be misinterpreted by your silly 4:35am brain to sound like anything else; this low throaty moaning was the sound of a man deep into the throes of regret, physical pain, probably nausea, and even more regret. In fact, you hoped and prayed that regret was the primary symptom and everything else was just a bonus.

“Do you usually make a big mess of things when you drink?”

He was sitting up. He was moving.His eyes were closed and his mouth was open. His cheeks were flushed and pink and his hair was standing up in places. You could smell the stale stench of alcohol coming from him in waves.

“I don’t — usually — get drunk — easily.” His words came out staggered. While he might have brushed his teeth last night, he hadn’t figured out the genius way to shower without risking being fully nude in an open room right next to your arch nemesis like you had. His blanket was tossed away and he was placing both feet on the floor and he reached out a hand to touch the wall for balance.

“Fucking Javier,” you heard him mumble under his breath, of course blaming someone else for the problems he caused himself. He had a hand outstretched to you now, his squint so severe as he turned in the direction of you and your blinding flashlight that you didn’t think his eyes were open at all, “can you — turn that off?” he pleaded.

“Turn what off?” You lifted the flashlight and waved it around the room, sending jolts and waves of bright light all around you, being sure to pass a few bright beams right toward his face. “This?” You shook it a little. His hands flew up to cover his face. “How will you see? It’s completely dark without it.”

“Please,” he groaned again and he was pushing with his feet, standing up on two of the wobbliest legs you’ve ever seen a man standing on.

He’d made the two steps required to get out from between his bed and the wall and the second he reached the space where you stood and had removed his security hand from the wall that was keeping him grounded, you pushed the button to turn off the light, sending you both in the blackest darkness you thought possible.

He made a sound. A mixture between a yelp and a whimper and you heard the smallest shuffle of feet taking itty bitty steps forward. He was quietly cursing again. You knew he’d been disoriented now. You’d had a good look at your position in the room before you’d turned out the light and you knew the exact number of steps and the exact direction you needed to take to get back to the comfort and security of your bed. You’d even memorized the number of bunk beds you’d need to pass to get to yours.

Something had your feet stalled though. You kind of wanted to see how he fared.

You heard the moment he went for a bigger step by the collision his shin made with the cold hard metal of the edge of the bunk. He hadn’t cleared the obstacle completely before he went for it and instantly there was a deep gasp of air, a hiss from the pain and another deep throated curse word, probably in many ways directed at you.

“A-Are you still here?” That was absolutely directed at you. You heard more movement. More small steps and you could hear it closer to where you stood listening over the sounds of that storm that raged outside and you waited for something awful to happen.

When something awful happened it wasn’t inside of this room though, a bang sound, it felt and sounded like a bomb, it hit so sudden and felt so shocking, so loud, so much louder than anything you’d ever heard, the thunderous boom of a thunderclap that must have hit extreme close by — from the nearly instantaneous flash of light that echoed through the bathroom from those tiny windows, maybe even hit the building itself and you screamed and jumped so hard with the shock you dropped your flashlight and heard it clanking down somewhere at your feet and the telltale sounds of it rolling somewhere in this room, somewhere under a bed maybe, somewhere far away in the absolute pitch blackness of a room with at least 10 pinky toe breaking metal bed frames and zero ideas where to start looking.

“Fuck,” he swore outloud at the same time as you screamed, “fuck — that was close.”

“Can — can you turn the light back on?”

You had uncovered your ears and lifted your head back up from the cowering position and after a few moments you registered his question.

“I dropped it. I got scared and I dropped it.”

“You dropped the only light we have?” His voice suddenly had all of the familiar tones of judgements and sass that you’d grown so accustomed to hearing from him and you rolled your eyes even though he wasn’t able to see it, it still made you feel marginally better.

“We? Honey, that was my own personal flashlight to drop.”

“Well shit. Well done, Princess,” you could hear him moving again, this time closer to where you still stood. You suddenly felt nervous that you might lose your carefully mapped mental layout of this room if you moved too much.

“Wait a minute,” his movement stopped, “you never won a flashlight.”

You were grateful for the darkness. You hadn’t figured out your cover story for how you got one of Sara’s stolen flashlights yet.

“I brought it with me,” you lied and you heard the smallest scoff from him.

“Are you kidding me?” The sounds of his shuffling grew much closer and began to wonder what on earth he was even doing. If he was looking for the bathrooms he was going the wrong way.

“You didn’t even bring a charger for your phone. You — You,” he emphasized the target of his rant, “You, vapid, social media addicted, attention desperate, doom scroller who hasn’t gone a single hour without posting something in the last four years, You haven’t posted a single thing about this trip.” You frowned at the man, annoyed once again that he seemed to know way too much about you at all times.

“So that means that you didn’t even get,” he continued, “an — an international SIM card for your phone, and you expect me to believe that you had the circumspection, mental preparedness, and forethought to bring a flashlight on this trip?”

“A friend gave it to me here,” you confessed too quickly, making every word you’d ever said in the past and every word you’d ever say in the future forever sound suspicious even though it was purely the guilt you felt for receiving that stolen flashlight; you didn’t win any games to earn such a precious thing — not quite knowing why you would bother to feel guilty about it but feeling a the guilt nonetheless.

“Bullshit,” he declared, now that you’d come up with a second, back up story your credibility was shot. “You stole it. Or the friend stole it. Which means it isn’t really yours.” There was effort in his voice. He was moving roughly, doing something in the darkness that made his words come out jagged.

You heard him a split second before you felt the blow. You felt a swinging arm collide roughly with you at probably the speed of an actual punch and instantly a sharp jolt of pain surged through your chest, namely your left boob. The pain was overwhelming in an instant and it took your air from your lungs as it radiated through your entire chest. You yelped out in a cry of pain and that hand that had collided with you, paired with the other, very suddenly reached out for your shoulders, gripping and rubbing up and down lightly.

“Shit, sorry — sorry, I didn’t mean — fuck, I’m sorry,” he was talking fast in an instant. He was apologizing and the sound of his voice was so much softer and devoid of his usual sarcasm, more than you’d ever heard from him. “Where did I hit you? I can’t see anything, fuck, you know I wasn’t trying to hit you, right? God, I’m so sorry.”

You were gasping as the pain slowly began to turn from that sharp burn and it shifted into a slower moving throbbing ache and through clenched teeth you answered, “you got me right in the tit.” You lifted your hand and rubbed over it, “fuck,” you added, unable to pretend like it didn’t hurt just for the sake of the genuine apologies that flew out of his mouth, because it really actually did hurt.

“Goddamn,” he whispered. Now that his hands were on you, you noticed he wasn’t letting go, but probably using you as some sort of a landmark so he could figure out which direction to travel. He inhaled a breath and his hands rubbed up and down your arms once more. He was rubbing you in the way that someone might rub over the injury, but it wasn’t as if he could do that.

“D-Do you want to hit me too? So are we even?”

You felt one of his hands leave your shoulder, moving downward and he reached down to grab ahold of your hand. He lifted it and with his other hand he very carefully closed your fingers, folding them into your palm to make you make a fist. You felt him pull your fist and you heard the smallest sound from his mouth, a punching sound effect as he softly pushed your fist into his chest.

“Here you can hit me,” he whispered, “that might not hurt the same,” he paused and lifted your hand, touching lightly over your fingers to readjust your fist form and you felt him pull it into the softness of his cheek where his cheekbone was. “Here, it’ll hurt here. Hit me here.”

You didn’t even feel the pain anymore. You hadn't said anything to him either and you felt an oddness deep inside of you with the unusually soft way he was talking to you. With the under layer of silliness you could hear in his voice with the sounds of your fake punches he acted out by pulling your fist into his face again and again. You put no strength into it though, you just let him move your hand into him again and again until he went motionless with his hand still wrapped around your wrist up near his face.

After a few moments of your inaction and silence he inhaled to speak.

“You okay?” You weren’t.

You didn’t answer him. This was too hard already. This version of him, this sweet, silly man that he never ever gave you any of, this handsome and charming and talented man who wanted absolutely nothing to do with you as a person — you, the vapid attention whore without the mental acumen to even consider bringing along a charger for her phone and you hadn’t even known an international SIM card was even a thing but that was just who you were. And he’d really rather get drunk out of his mind than spend any time alone with you sober.

You felt it then. This was hopeless. You and your stupid habits. You and your entire life lived without anything worth a damn to show for it except for a stolen flashlight and even that you couldn’t hold on to.

Kyungsoo spoke again, only this time and for the first time in all of you knowing him, you heard him whisper something unimaginable. He called out your name. There was that same sound of worry on his voice and the hand he had your wrist held in shifted and you felt it open, you felt his fingers wrap around your hand and he squeezed down around your closed fist, saying your name again with another, “hey, come on, you okay?”

He must have heard the first few sniffles from your nose even over the sound of the storm.

“Come on, say you’re okay.” He pleaded lightly, “I’m sorry I was doing speedy windmill arms during a blackout and accidentally punched you in the tit. Come on, you’re supposed to get mad at me and punch me in the face and call me a rat bastard.” He lifted your hand again and made the pow-pow-pow sounds with his mouth.

The surprise of his candor brought the smallest laugh out of your chest, against your will. He was shaking your hand down near his thigh with the words he was saying.

You pushed lightly against his chest with your free hand and wriggled your other hand free from within his closed grip. He let you go easily but you still felt his fingertips lingering just over your forearm. He didn’t want to lose your position again.

“Why the hell were you doing that anyway?”

“I don’t know. I’m an idiot. I was trying to find you and I got too into it. What’s it feel like? Getting hit in the tit?”

“It fucking hurts, Stupid. Want me to kick you in the nuts so we can compare on a pain scale of one to ten?”

You lifted a knee halfway up. You felt the clench of his muscles when you said it and his hands moved down in alarm, one arm blocking over his crotch and the other arm you felt his entire hot hand land over your bare thigh. You weren’t really going to do it but it was still fun to witness him panic like this. He had been so fast to block it and it brought another small giggle from you which thankfully was blocked out by another loud thunder boom.

You could feel him moving now. The perceived crisis with him actually physically hitting you with his hands instead of the usual wounds made with his words was over for now and you could feel the grip of his hands pulling on your night shirt as he moved away from you now.

“Which direction are you going?” Whatever he was seeking, you still had the layout of this place well ingrained in your head and you could probably help, for the sake of both of you who were trapped in this situation together. It really was in your best interest to find some light. You knew of three sources, a tiny lightbulb that could be turned on with the red light switch on the wall located somewhere deep in that bathroom that was connected to the emergency generator, the red electrical socket near his bed which was also connected and his own cell phone, which should be easily findable if he just found his bed frame first, which should be about five steps behind him to the right.

“Your bed is behind you, to the right. Just look for your bed and get your phone.” You applauded yourself for being so helpful to someone who deserved so little and you heard the soft grunt of approval from him as he turned and let go of your shirt.

“Five steps back, then turn right and it’s right there.”

You heard some silence and then you heard hands running over fabric. It felt, to your ears, like he might not quite have listened to your directions though. He was coming from the left side of you. You heard a few straining sounds and more hands running over fabric.

“This isn’t my bed,” he said from somewhere in the distance, “you said right? Your right? My right? Whose fucking right?”

You felt it then, the panic for your slip. Again. Again and again.

“Uhh,” you whispered, knowing you’d done it again. “It’s to the left, my left. I got them mixed up again.”

“Jesus Christ,” you heard him say under his breath and he was moving again, presumably making his way around the wrong bed, headed twice as far now in the correct direction, “they never change. I don't understand how you can’t learn something that never changes. What if you just call it something else? Okay, which direction from you is the bathroom?”

“I don't know. Left?” You got it right because it was fresh in your mind. That was the way he was supposed to go for his bed. Left. You knew it would vanish if any significant amount of time passed though.

“Okay so instead of left, let’s call that ‘interior,’ and right can be ‘exterior.’”

You’d never thought about naming them something else before but you felt more and more exhausted the longer he talked about this. It was too damn early for this kind of lesson on language and you could feel your mind beginning to drift the longer he nagged about it. You must have let out a long and tired sounding sigh.

“Calling it ‘interior’ is kind of…” you were grumbling at this point. You didn’t really care enough about being right all the time, especially if it meant that he got to struggle a little harder whenever you were wrong, “kind of weird,” you finished your critique of his choice of words.

“Yeah, I know, right? If only they had perfect names already, like East and West, or Right and Left. Lift up your interior hand.”

You sighed and lifted the hand that was closest to the bathroom and you did it instantly and you let out a surprised little “oh.”

“Did it work? Is the hand closest to my voice?” he asked, and you flinched and squinted when the room was suddenly lit up. He had his flashlight on his cell phone illuminated and you were standing with your ‘interior’ hand lifted high up into the air just as he had told you.

“Exterior hand,” he said and you quickly dropped the left and raised the right hand.

“Okay now turn around.” You felt his fingers land on your shoulders and he was pushing you to spin around in a circle and you rolled your eyes as if this little brain rewiring thing he was doing would even work with you.

“Remember, ‘interior’ is always going to be this side of you, even if the bathroom moves.” He tapped your left side lightly with his fingertips.

“Exterior,” he said much too loudly for not even five in the morning and you lifted the right arm easily. You could make out his hair bouncing with the nodding up and down of his head and he called out the other side, smiling lightly as you responded as he wanted you to. He did it a few more times and you were getting sick of this, shaking your head and scowling at him because you were done. You don't want to learn anymore. You were too old and you were tired.

“East!” He shouted, his voice in full volume with his arms outstretched in some mysterious direction toward the wall behind his bed. You just shook your head and crossed your arms in front of your chest. It was clear to anyone that you were done cooperating with this man. “Come on. That way is east, so the other way is west.” He was reaching with his voice. You had already taken several steps away from him and all of his effort to make you a better person. He could fuck right off with that — and at five in the morning.

“Bed!” you shouted. You were done. You were spinning on your heels, spotting your flashlight easily near one of the beds about the middle of the room thanks to the light on his phone that illuminated the room enough. You reached down and picked it up. “Flashlight!” you shouted, matching his crazed enthusiasm for directions of all things and by the time you’d made it back to the sanctity of your bed, away from any more grand life lessons he had already given up on you and had disappeared into the bathroom, taking his light with him. You could see the glow in the room, disappearing further into the room and it grew fainter as he used the toilet, becoming a little brighter as he went to the sink to wash his hands and becoming even brighter still when he emerged at the bathroom door. All you saw was a bright circle of light. You couldn’t make out what he was holding behind the blinding light that was facing in your direction.

Apparently, all it took was some exhausting educational lessons to make you feel very sleepy. You had already covered your head with your winner’s blanket to drown out the sounds of the wind and the rain outside as well as the sounds of anything else that man might want to say to you.

You could still hear enough though and his next question managed to seep through the layers of feathers and one thousand threads per square whatever and his question pulled you up from the sleep you were falling deep into.

“Hey! Did you throw away like half of my toothpaste?”

He must have been cleaning up for the day already. After you didn’t respond to him you drifted off to the sounds of the running shower somewhere on the other side of that wall.

When you woke back up it must have been hours later. You felt so much more energized than when you had woken up in the middle of the night. A quick stretch with plenty of stretching noises preceded your sitting up on the bed and shoving your blanket off of your groggy body but something felt different about the sounds in this room. Everything felt so quiet. You looked around, listening for sounds of him, for sounds of the storm outside and there was an eeriness about the silence that made you wonder if perhaps the storm was over and he had left this place, leaving you to navigate the maze of spiders and dark spooky hallways all alone.

You stood up and made your way through the bunks, seeing that all of his belongings were still exactly where he had left them and the bathroom sink still had his toothpaste and toothbrush — you felt the bristles and could feel a dampness that told you that yes, the man had used the foot scrubbing toothbrush this morning and after the tit punch, you refused to feel bad about it — as well as a few bottles of shampoo and that one bar of soap that Mr. Chen had passed out to everybody last night. Clearly he had just left you to sleep in after his early morning shower and you wondered if he was already eating something delicious for breakfast without you.

You were hungry but more importantly you needed the bathrooms. Without any real fear of him barging in on you now you took just a bit of extra care getting ready. You’d picked out one of your cutest outfits from your suitcase, the one that you were sure was supposed to grab the attention of all of the most handsome and charming men at the Shady Sands Resort single’s retreat and you even took care to get your makeup looking fresh and not overly done, making sure the view from behind showcased your greatest assets, the shape of your ass and your waist that you’d been specifically working on for months at the gym. So what if there were no men you were interested in here. There was one man you were at least interested in torturing a little bit here. That would have to serve as your entertainment.

As you made your way down the hallway toward the blue door of the kitchen you could hear the faint thumping of music playing behind the door.

You pulled the door open and you were greeted by a few familiar faces, apart from Sara, each one looked just a little bit tired and green around the edges. Sara and Mr. Chen sat on one side of the kitchen counter, Javier was on the other side with a — god bless him — coffee pot full of black gold, and Kyungsoo sat with his head thrown back and his eyes closed in what looked to be a rather groggy but freshly showered state. His hair was completely dry and the way it moved you could tell just how soft it must feel to the fingers — should someone wish to do such a thing with his hair and their fingers, these were hypothetical fingers. Definitely not your fingers.

“Good morning!” Mr. Chen forced the smile to his face to see you and you caught the shift in Kyungsoo’s posture as he straightened his shoulders, turned his head toward you and opened his eyes. You tried not to linger too long inside of his eyes and you noticed once he looked at you he quietly turned his head and looked away from you just as quickly as you had done to him.

Sara and Javier seemed to be working on something together, there were stacks of ingredients for breakfast and seeing the ingredients alone had your stomach begging for some food. You didn’t see Jun or Roxy around and you felt just a little bit like a responsible adult for not being the last one to wake up today.

“Jun and Roxy had to leave early this morning,” Mr. Chen burst your responsible adult bubble, “Roxy’s mom lives on the island and her home sustained some heavy damage from the winds last night so they went to help out. We are still in the eye of the storm, but the south side is projected to be much weaker, so hopefully the worst of it is over.”

Left behind on the table near the white board were the prizes they had won last night and you wondered if there would be more games to claim them or if that camping stove and fuel cans were now officially communal.

The white board hadn’t changed much since last night. Your column had an extra warning about your low alcohol tolerance, instructions to make drinks at half strength, and the word ‘fall risk’ written there too but there were no equal warnings next to Kyungsoo’s name. In fact it seemed that he had very little negative things written in his column at all. On paper this guy was perfect. Meanwhile you could still feel the remnants of him all over you. Mostly from the self-inflicted obsessive thoughts about the kiss, but your boob was still just a little sore when you’d put on your bra this morning.

They obviously didn’t know about his secret drinking habits that liked to come out only when there were no witnesses.

“Javier was serving coffee and you gratefully accepted a cup, pulling a seat up to sit right beside Kyungsoo at this counter as you watched Sara carefully arranging utensils for cooking.

Yet no actual cooking was being done and you began to get that same old familiar feeling that something was afoot. There would be some sort of competition. Beside you, Kyungsoo refused to look at you and seemed to only focus on his coffee in front of him with the occasional hand lifted to massage his temples. He still had the headache.

You reached into your front pocket and pulled out the little foil pack you usually carried with you at all times, some pain relievers for when womanly aches and pains simply became too much to handle and you tossed the little packet on the counter right beside him.

His head ticked toward the sound and he looked down at your offering; his big eyes popping up to look into yours. He didn’t grab it right away and you leaned your head toward him, urging him to just take it with a small disarming smile. It was the least you could do; an apology in advance for what you were about to do to him. You turned away from him and lifted your coffee for a sip. Out of your peripheral vision you could see him reach for the foil packet and he was opening it when you opened your mouth to speak.

“Javier,” you spoke-up clearly, “I think Kyungsoo’s drinks need to be made at least half as strong from now on.” You lifted a hand and pointed toward the white board, specifically meaning the section under his name that was missing the same sorts of warnings as yours displayed.

In an instant, you had the attention of everyone in the room.

“He’s got quite a doozy of a drinking habit that I personally learned about first-hand after last night.”

You heard a sound come from beside you and you glanced to your ‘exterior’ side to see a pair of big brown beautiful eyes looking at you in alarm. Apparently, although the man was too drunk last night to act responsibly with his hands and more distressingly, his lips, he still remembered the entirety of the event. Tellingly, his wide eyes looked down at your lips and back up again into your eyes before his face flushed and he swallowed the mouthful of coffee he had in his mouth.

You looked at him and he looked at you with his cheeks, his neck, and his ears slowly turning a bright red with the memory you had just dragged up. In his hands was the empty foil packet of the pills he had just taken for his headache. It would be a while before they started to work and he groaned beside you, closing his eyes and rubbing both of his hands over his face. It was embarrassment mixed with pain.

“I’m listening,” Mr. Chen had perked up from his own hangover headache and Sara had a positively wild eyed look in her eyes and an eager smile, ready to hear whatever bit of gossip you had to offer about the man who sat right beside you.

You giggled to yourself, “Apparently, when he’s very drunk,” you lifted a finger to gesture in his direction. His face was still covered with both of his hands as you began to speak, “he likes to go into the bathroom to brush his teeth and make the biggest mess with toothpaste you’ve ever seen.”

The hands dropped and he looked at you. His mouth hung open.

Their faces were amused, all but Kyungsoo who just looked at you with rapt attention. Based on his reaction, this was not the bombshell he thought you were about to drop.

“I even stepped in it at 4 in the morning in complete darkness, I stepped on something disgusting. It was so cold and wet. When I turned on the light my whole foot was covered in blue and there was toothpaste all over the floor, sprayed all over the mirrors and the walls. Like someone murdered a Smurf.” You were full on giggling and Kyungsoo had looked ahead of himself with both of his hands fisted in front of him and his bottom lip lightly bouncing off of his closed fists.

“What did you do? Did you wake him up and make him clean it himself?” Sara and Mr Chen shook their heads back and forth, clearly amused but Javier had been the one to ask the important question.

“Well, I had to clean it all, or course. It was a slipping hazard. I scrubbed my foot with a toothbrush I found in there — just left behind on the sink — green one, I think.”

You’d looked into his face when you said it and his open mouth fell even further before his jaw snapped shut and he looked ahead of himself, across the countertop toward Javier. His jaw was clenched down hard. His nostrils flared and he breathed hard, in and out.

“Got in between the toes and everything,” you smiled widely and Sara stifled a giggle in the palm of her hand. She was already headed to the white board and you heard squeaks as there was now a matching red note below his name to match yours. Both said ‘half strength drinks.’ You were satisfied with that much.

You’d spare the both of you the humiliation of bringing up the kiss, which would have been a bigger hoot with this crowd and would definitely garner another entry under that sad little heart column that sat between your names. There hadn’t been an entry there since early yesterday. If anything, he was lucky you’d stopped there with the grand revelations. He was glaring at you though, unable to be thankful for a damned thing you did for him, even as those pain medicines were dissolving in his stomach now and beginning to make their way into his bloodstream to take care of the lingering headache that the caffeine from his coffee hadn’t gotten rid of.

“Did you seriously scrub your foot with it?” He was speaking lowly to you while looking down at the empty pill foil. Looking just a little more queasy with each passing moment.

“Why — was that yours?” You shrugged and lifted your cup for a sip, “guess you’ll be happy to hear I showered last night. In fact I was just finishing up when you stumbled in there, Kyungsoo. Do you remember that, or were you too drunk for that too?”

His eyes were on you and he closed them slowly as he inhaled a calming breath.

“I — remember,” he confessed after several breaths.

“All of it?” you pushed back, strangely needing this spoken by him. He didn’t respond with words but you saw the strained single nod of his head and he inhaled a breath, lifting himself from the stool to move his empty coffee cup to the countertop beside the sink.

“Well…why’d you do that?” You’d started this talk with all of the false bravado you could dream up, but the longer it went on, the less gumption you found to fall back on. You’d begun to sound just a little unsure of yourself, just a little scared of the answers he would have for you. “Just to mess with me?” The last question came out meek and scared sounding.

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” he said in a single breath; his voice low yet direct with a hand raised to dismiss you entirely with a quick wave of his fingers.

Why did he get to decide that? Why was he the one who got to call the end of the conversation just because he couldn't really come face to face with the fact that he might be a bad guy?

“Hey, are you two still talking about the toothbrush?” Finished with her notes on the white board, Sara watched you both with suspicious eyes.

“Yes.”

”Yes,” you both answered at the exact same time and his eyes shot toward yours darkly, with a warning behind them for you to drop it. It wouldn't be discussed and it definitely wouldn't be happening again, not with the restrictions written into the rules of this retreat here.

“Okay, so half drinks for everyone, Javier. Mr. Chen looks rough this morning too.”

The head chef frowned his lips and nodded his head sheepishly.

Mr. Chen was taking his position at the front of the room and he cleared his throat. You knew to look for him for the instructions for whatever challenge you both would be presented with next and he clapped his hands quietly once and began to speak.

The challenge this morning was for breakfast. It seems you both would be cooking together again. That wasn’t new. The roles however were switched this time and much to your dismay you were going to be the one handling the ingredients and actually cooking them. Because Kyungsoo was an actual chef, he needed some sort of a handicap and Mr. Chen announced that Kyungsoo would not be able to use his voice during this cooking round but you could use all of your senses because, according to the three individuals who were in charge, you were a ‘liability.’ You frowned to hear this, feeling that maybe they had misjudged you. But at the same time not wanting to fight them too hard for them to blindfold as to disagree with them. If it meant you could keep your eyes, you would be their liability.

All of Kyungsoo’s instructions to you would need to be made with only his eyes and gestures, but touching was also allowed and highly encouraged. After the last cooking round where you’d spent much of the activity practically hugging the man, you hoped to god he was satisfied with your cooking skills enough to just let you figure it out yourself. You had one hour.

You at least knew enough to gather all of the veggies and take them to the sink to wash them and Kyungsoo was standing beside you with his eyes down on the ingredients looking at them individually and looking up at you. He did it a couple of times and you shook your head at him. Were you supposed to know what he was saying? This was bullshit. He was wasting time. You lifted an onion and asked “do you want me to cut this?” He shook his head.

“Do you want me to peel it?” was your next guess and that got another head shake. You were already frustrated. The man needed to do better than this.

“Do you want me to shove it up your ass?” There were giggles around the kitchen and he closed his eyes and inhaled a breath, then he looked up into the empty space above him for just a few seconds.

At last he moved. At last he lifted a hand and placed it on your forearm, lifting your hand lightly, he placed it on top of a tomato that sat beside the onion. He reached for your other hand and placed your hand on top of the knife handle and you gripped both.

“Cut?” You asked and finally, that got a nod. Jesus. You’d stab the man at this rate.

You held the tomato and made one cut right down the middle, cutting the thing in half. His eyes watched you and you couldn't quite make sense of the expression there but when you lifted one of the tomato halves to hold in your hand and you were about to cut out the inedible core, you felt him move quickly. With one swift hand, he slapped you on the back of the knife hand and he did it hard. It made you jump and gasp in shock. He had just slapped your hand like you were a misbehaving puppy.

Whatever it was that you were doing he didn’t like it. He was standing behind you and you could feel the warmth of his chest cover your back as he did this. His other hand wrapped around your tomato hand and he turned it around so the tomato was facing sliced side down on the cutting board. You saw him lift the hand that held the knife again, pointing the blade part toward your hand, he dropped it and made a little X shape with both of his fingers. He then turned the knife around, pointing the sharp point toward your body and again, made the same X shape with his fingers. You were corrected instantly, all sharp and pointy parts of the knife should point away from your body. He was saving you from slicing your hand off, or stabbing yourself in the stomach.

“Oh, don't stab myself to death — got it,” you whispered into the space in front of you. When you turned your head slightly to the ‘interior’ you could just make out his face there, super close to you.

You cut the stupid tomato into chunks. They were big and clunky but they were cut. He forced your hands into a certain shape and you were now picking the cutting board up and taking it over to set down beside the stove.

You felt like his puppet. He’d long given up on letting you take the reins after the first thing you tried to slice up was yourself, and you were now steered and directed by expert hands. Not only had you, as his avatar, managed to make something tasty and saucy with those tomatoes and a few other ingredients, but he now had you vigorously whipping up something thick and bright yellow that had butter and egg yolks, which were challenging to get out without breaking them. The sauce was coming out velvety and thick but he was shaking your hands so hard to get them to whisk faster the whole thing made you tremble and vibrate so much that every question you asked had a tremor that made you giggle and when you turned your head to look at him you caught the matching smile on his face that widened when he grabbed your hand again and shook you even harder.

When it was time to taste the sauce, your hand was simply grabbed, made to stick out your index finger and he dipped it right into the sauce, lifting it up to stick it into your own mouth.

“It’s good,” you declared and never one to take your word he was dipping your finger into the sauce and pulling your finger into his open mouth. You froze for a moment when he did it. His eyes were looking down at the sauce when he sucked on your finger but he must have felt the gasp for air you inhaled and it pulled his own eyes into your own. You pulled your own hand away, leaving behind his wet tongue and soft lips and those big brown eyes that looked into your own without saying a single word.

Something was happening inside of your chest. The close proximity paired with the scent of his soap and the warmth of his body had been taking its toll. You must have been imaging it to feel the soft grip he held your hand with as you poached the eggs. You must have imagined the soft caress of his thumb over the back of your hand and you froze almost entirely with the egg cooked to soft jiggly consistency suspended inside the slotted spoon. There was a plate with english muffins and thick cut ham slices ready to receive this egg but your stupid mind kept replaying the way his fingers traveled so slowly up your forearm to reach your hand, the gentle circles he touched into your skin, maybe giving you secret messages with scribed letters that told you things about the meaning behind that kiss last night.

You were stuck. The egg jiggled and he ran his hands up your arm slowly before he tap-tapped twice, lightly on your arm, urging you to turn around to deposit the thing on the plate so it could be finished off with sauce. You were a mess though. What was he doing to you? This felt like a trick of your mind. He was just trying to cook using your hands and you were imagining that his touches were softer and more meaningful than they were. That inhale he took from your neck and the softest groan that you felt echoed through your chest didn’t solve any of your mysteries either. You were stuck.

It was him that moved you. You felt his arm wrap around your waist and the warmth of his chest pressed into your back, his chin landed over your shoulders, dipping his cheek against yours; you felt the warm exhale against the skin of your neck and his hand landed just under your breasts, gripping you tightly, high around the rib cage. He lifted you and spun you around, bringing your inaction, your confusion, and your jiggly egg along for the ride and he placed you down not with a rough drop but with a gentle and careful slip down the length of his body behind you, you slid right down in place in front of the plate. There was a movement of his hand, he rotated your spoon and the egg landed with a soft plop where he wanted it.

You turned to look at his face. You needed so many more clues than he was giving you and you found his brown eyes watching you with something unreadable happening inside of them. Those eyes looked into your own and unimaginably, they touched down the length of your face and landed on your lips. Unimaginably, you did the same thing and when it all became too much you simply closed your eyes, finding that the thumping of his heart beating inside of his chest seemed to match the racing you felt happening inside of your own.

With your eyes closed you could feel some of your mind returning to you. You could feel just a little bit more control coming back into your own hands and you lifted a spoonful of sauce to pour it over the top of the very first set of Eggs Benedict you’d ever made in your entire life, complete with homemade hollandaise sauce and a fresh mozzarella, basil and heirloom tomato salad with a balsamic prosciutto vinaigrette that honestly looked like it belonged in a millionaire’s garden party instead of in some bunker during a hurricane operating on emergency generator power.

You looked down at the plate in awe. There was some sort of a timer beeping that called your attention up and away from this pretty thing you’d just created with him and you looked up into the faces of three people who had watched you both with their mouths hung open in stunned silence. Mr. Chen reached forward to push a button on the timer that was ringing out but the other two didn’t seem to move a muscle.

When you looked over at Kyungsoo he had already backed up enough so you could no longer feel every single one of his abdominal muscles through the thin fabric of your summer top and he looked down at the dishes that had been assembled with both of your hands.

His lips pulled into the smallest smile while he looked down and when he looked back up into your face that smile came along with his attention on you.

You felt the smallest bump of his shoulder against yours and he whispered into your ear.

“Not bad for a Princess,” he said with a lift of a single eyebrow.

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

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