#shower tray screen

[bathroom4lessuk]

Premium Shower Enclosure Selection at Bathroom4less UK

At Bathroom4Less, our enclosures collection is built to meet the needs of every home, from compact spaces to luxurious, modern bathrooms. Whether you're looking for something sleek and minimalist or robust and stylish, our range of shower enclosures and shower trays offers the perfect balance of practicality and aesthetics. Elevate your space with our elegant, frameless shower enclosures for a modern, open feel and enjoy seamless shower tray and screen combinations and minimalist shower tray screens.

[bathroomforless]

At Bathroom4Less, the UK's leading bathroom supplier of eco-friendly bathroom products, we offer a wide range of high-quality bath accessories to enhance your space. From stylish basin wastes, overflow filler wastes, and bottle traps, to elegant bath panels, bath screens, and robe hooks, we’ve got you covered. Explore our collection of shelves, towel bars & rails, soap dishes & dispensers, shower baskets, curtain rails, shower tray wastes, and more. For toilet accessories like toilet roll holders, trust Bathroom4Less for superior quality!

[witherby]

*raises hand* more littlest Wayne please 🥺

You got it!

The Littlest Wayne: Jason's Experience

You're a weird baby.

At least, that's what Jason thinks. You don't really cry about anything, you don't whine much except when you're maneuvered uncomfortably or rudely woken up from a nap before you're ready. But even then, it's almost a complaint for the sake of complaining, and not really a full-blown fit.

( It's great for allowing your new, vigilante family to sleep through the night. Horrible for their collective paranoia, which makes them get up to check and make sure you're still breathing through the night anyway. )

You're not deaf — Bruce had you taken in for a full examination and health screening while the ink on your adoption papers were still drying — so that's not why you're quiet, either. Aside from being a touch underweight, likely from whoever cared for you before, it seems like you just don't have much to be upset about.

Jason thinks that weird as fuck. Nobody is neglecting you or anything, but there are times where the lack of hunger cues make one of your brothers realize you haven't eaten since breakfast, or that nobody has checked your diaper in four hours and you've just been chilling in a wet nappy. This makes his monitoring of your general well-being increase ten-fold, to the point that he's the one that spends the most time with you aside from Bruce.

Dr. Leslie insists that some babies are just Like That. Alfred does, too. Their lack of concern helps him be less concerned. But it's still there. Surely there's something a baby would cry about; you're a fuckin baby, and that's, like, your primary job besides eating and sleeping.

He finds out that there is, in fact, something to cry about when he comes back from a week-long job as the Red Hood, having needed to leave the Manor to track down a criminal organization quickly gaining traction that he didn't like the looks of. When he wraps up the last of those loose ends, he steps into his apartment in Crime Alley and digs out his personal phone, switching it on to find dozens of messages from Bruce and his brothers.

Replacement: Dude, u need to get back here ASAP when ur done. The babe is straight tweakin

Eldest Daughter Syndrome: Heyyy lil wing 👋 no rush no rush, but swing by when you've got a sec! Our newest member misses you 🍼

Ninja Wannabe: Todd, your presence is required. Father's newest ward is screaming incessantly without you to entertain their mindless brain. I've retreated to Bludhaven to spare my ears until your return.

B: Stay safe, Jaylad. Adjusting to you being gone is a little tough for the baby, as I'm sure your brothers already told you. I just want you to know that there's no obligation to hurry back. They're okay, and the screaming isn't as bad as everyone is making it out to be.

Alfred: Good day, Master Jason. There is an entire batch of double-fudge brownies with your name on it upon your safe return. Best wishes.

You must be screaming the manor down if Alfred is bribing Jason with junk food, let alone a whole tray of it. He hurries out of his armor with half-concern, half-amusement, showers, then speeds off. In less than an hour, he's pulling into the driveway and parking his bike, and Tim was not fucking lying when he texted him.

Turns out it was good that you weren't a huge crier, because you had pipes that put opera singers to shame. When Jason steps inside, the faint, high pitched whines he heard through the door turn into full-fledged wailing. It's just a matter of following it down a couple corridors before he reaches the day room, which was recently repurposed into one of your play areas. He locks onto the image of one very distressed Dick, face flushed and cotton stuffed in his ears as he desperately jangles a set of plastic keys over your body.

"C'mon, baby bat," he croons, sounding near tears himself, "I dunno what you need. Calm down, honey, please."

You lie on a playmat in front of Dick, paying the toy no mind. Your eyes are squeezed shut, tears are running down your cheeks, your face is ruby red, and your tiny fists are clenched as tight as possible as you kick your legs and wail, and wail, and wail some more. It would be impressive if it weren't concerning.

"Whoa," Jason blurts, stepping fully into the room. Dick spots him and slumps with visible relief, like a puppet with cut strings. "They've been like this the whole time?"

"They were completely fine the first day! But next morning, we saw them looking around for you, and...well." Dick gestures helplessly to your thrashing form. Jason tuts and scoops you into his arms, wincing a bit at your shriek, and starts to gently bounce you.

"Hey, there," he mutters, "what's all this now, weirdo? You didn't have me around to spoon feed you gross baby mush or wipe your butt, and now you're making it everybody else's problem? Huh? That's rude as hell."

Your cries continue a little while longer. Jason continues to talk to you, to call your antics silly, to soothe you, until you finally crack an eye open and register just who it is that's got you in their arms. You stare at Jason kinda like he's an alien, brows furrowed and nose scrunched, but then your wails dissolve into sobs, then little hiccups, then just the occasional sniffle. One of your hands unclenches to latch onto his shirt instead, and you mush your face into his chest.

And you just. Completely stop it. Bruce, Dick, Tim, Alfred, and Damian had fallen all over themselves for days trying to soothe you, and a couple minutes of staring at Jason had completely eliminated the problem.

"You gotta move back to the Manor," Dick blurts from where he remained on the floor, wide-eyed and hands clasped together. "Please come back. Please. I am begging. On my hands and knees if you need it. I will do all your chores for the next year. Do not leave again."

"Not my fault I'm the favorite," Jason huffs, but the protective way he holds you, the concerned way he's checking over your face and throat to see if you hurt yourself crying for so long, the continued bouncing he does for you, all points to him moving back home. He makes the arrangements the next day.

And if Jason makes sure future missions he has to go on don't last more than two days, well, that's no one's business but his own.

You're still a weird baby, though. Even if Jason being your favorite is pretty cool.

[nohoney]

inspired by a text i sent

“we should call out of work together one day, just spend a day fucking.” you suggest to bakugou one day when he returns from work as you’re setting food down at his place on the table. “what do you say?”

bakugou grunts and points out that you and him have sex on the regular, that there’s no need to take time off just to fuck for a whole day. he doesn’t pay your suggestion much mind at first. he works, comes home, spends time with you, and then he rests.

however there comes a stressful period from his agency. things are slightly fucked with an underground villain organization that his team is trying to keep tabs on so his schedule gets rearranged as he helps lead the case on the activity. suddenly he’s not seeing you as often, coming in unreasonably late at night when you’re already asleep, or you’re coming home just as he’s leaving. you’re only able to have a few minutes with each other before he has to go. maybe even a quickie if the two of you are really lucky but even those leave the both of you slightly unsatisfied.

it’s just not enough time together.

it’s a whole month of this fucked up routine, and it’s when he sees your engagement ring sitting in your little jewelry tray in the bathroom when bakugou recalls your words and decides that he needs it.

he trudges into his home again at four in the morning, dropping his work bag by the couch and running his hands down his face that’s coupled with an exhausted sigh. his eyes are tired, his back aches a little, and he’s a little hungry but can’t be bothered with eating a meal at this time. all he wants to do is rest next to you.

bakugou wants his old schedule back.

after he’s showered, bakugou is careful to not jostle you too much as he joins you in bed. his heart clenches a little as he sees you curled up on his side of the bed, your face smushed into his pillow and even wearing one of his shirts are your pajamas. fuck—he misses you.

so he picks up his phone, using the last of his energy to send a text to kirishima and a sidekick in a small groupchat.

[04:47] calling out for two days. keep it together until i get back or else.

kirishima will be unquestioning to his request seeing as bakugou had done a similar favor for him when he was getting burnt out from the agency too.

his phone is put on do not disturb and is set with the screen facing down on the bedside table. bakugou is careful to move you back to your side of the bed, pressing a kiss to your temple to soothe you when you groan unpleasantly. he’s happy to sink into the warmth of the bed and he pulls you in close, falling asleep quicker than he could have anticipated.

you normally wake up at seven and you’re pretty good at hopping out of bed to start your day. this morning is not as easy, not when you wake up to bakugou having practically trapped you against him. it’s nice though, so so nice considering the schedule he’s had lately. he has to rest though from his late night and you have to be ready for work, so you try to peel his arms off you.

oh his arms… so fucking strong and built, they feel so good to be wrapped around your waist but you have to go.

when you attempt a second time to get out of his hold, you let out a small yelp when your fiancé tightens his hold and grunts, “stay.”

“katsuki, i can’t,” your voice rasps with sleepiness, trying to shake it off along with your hulking hero soon-to-be-husband off you, “gotta get ready for work.”

“stay.” bakugou repeats himself a little more firmly.

you sigh out loud and attempt a third time to get out of his hold. you’re surprised when he pushes you to lie back on the bed and he cages you with his body, looking down at you with dark bags under his eyes. almost fed up, you’re about to yell at him but he speaks first, “call out, i miss you and i’m gonna fuck you all day.”

his words are familiar but in the moment, you can’t recall from when you heard them. it has a reaction on you, has you aching and clenching your legs together as you look up at him. “you need rest, you got home late.”

“i’ll sleep when i feel like it. i just fucking miss you.” he croons, leaning down to nose at your cheek and then inhale the scent of your lotion that he can still smell faintly on your skin, “call out.”

oh god, you are tempted but you want him to sleep and you have a scheduled call with all the other managers for your work today. “katsuki, get some sleep baby. i can make dinner tonight when i get home and-“ you try to convince him to get rest but he speaks over you.

“c’mon, fuck on my cock and show me how much you miss me.”

you’re finally convinced.

it only takes thirty seconds to send a text with a reasonable excuse to your lead manager that you won’t be in for the next two days. you know that they’ll say no problem to you since you’ve hardly called out of work since you earned your promotion within the last year. and besides, there’s always other people calling out anyway so now it’s your fucking turn.

plus you know… you’re dynamight’s fiancée so you should get to flex that occasionally.

everything is frenzied now that the two of you know you have the next 48 hours with one another. no work, no meetings, no emails—just the two of you finally together.

the kisses are desperate, clothes are flung off and thrown somewhere on the bedroom floor, and bakugou is lying on his back as he grabs your hips to have you sit on his face. to have him hold you like this again has you excited, moaning loudly in relief as your fiancé eagerly eats you out. your hips roll to glide his tongue along your pussy, his big hands sliding up from your hips and cupping just right underneath your tits, one of his thumbs leisurely petting just right underneath your breast.

“oh god, oh god! fuck, s’good!” your breath is low, speaking more to yourself and lewdly moaning when bakugou roughly grabs your tits.

“missed this pussy on my face,” bakugou groans from beneath in between licks, “missed my fucking girls right here.”

ugh it’s so corny how he refers to your breasts but in the moment you find it grossly endearing. sometimes when you were cooking, bakugou would come up behind you and put his hands under your shirt just to grope at you. sometimes you would get genuinely annoyed at him for intruding in your space but with him being so busy in the last month, you had missed it more than you thought you would have.

it’s almost embarrassing how easily you cum on his tongue but bakugou has no complaints, practically drinking it up as he continues to eat away at you. as much as you relieved to get eaten out again, you were aching even more for his cock in your mouth. hopping off his face, you feel your mouth drool upon seeing your fiancé’s hard cock flushed a rosy red at the tip as it twitches against his lower stomach.

“pumpkin, hold on i want to you to—fuck!” bakugou wanted your cunt right away but he throws his head back against the pillows when you immediately deepthroat his cock. just as he had eagerly eaten you out to show how much he missed you, you were enthusiastically taking him into your throat. bakugou almost feels like a virgin with the way he’s reacting, finding himself a little sensitive that he hadn’t gotten properly sucked off in a while thanks to those shitty villains that showed on the radar for some real serious shit.

bakugou swears he’s gonna rip them apart with his own hands once they’re located for keeping him and his fiancée apart this long.

his chest rises and falls quickly, one of his hands clenching a fist as we he wills himself to not cum. but god, your mouth feels so good on his cock and he hasn’t had a proper nut in a while. the quickies he had with you along with the secret hurried fisting on his dick while on the job just weren’t cutting it. finding some semblance of control, bakugou grabs you by the back of your head and pulls you off.

“katsukiiii!” you whine out his name in a small drawl, letting out a petulant little noise that makes him coo over you, “i want more!”

bakugou hushes you gently, guiding you back over to him until he’s got you hovering over his cock. “sit on it baby, give that fucking pussy to me.” he urges you with a tone of desperation in his voice, “c’mon, fuck!”

slowly you ease onto his cock, your eyes fluttering as the tip breaches you and the stretch of your fiancé has you excited. a month isn’t necessarily a long time but when neither of you hadn’t been able to not even spend at least fifteen minutes together in the entirety since his fucked up schedule, it ends up feeling like a lifetime has passed.

your hands rest on bakugou’s pecs, needing the leverage as you sit back fully onto his cock, gasping in surprise when you already cum on him.

“oh fuck, ya missed me that much sweetheart? you only put it in and you’re already cumming again?” bakugou breathlessly laughs, using his strong hands to lift you up slightly and slamming you down. he relishes in your gasp and how your cunt is already soaking wet—it’s dripping right where’s got you plugged and onto his balls. one would think that it’s a little cruel that he repeats the motion a few times, still getting the same result as you start to lose your mind from becoming sensitive already, but he’s been missing this and missing you.

you manage to get some semblance of your brain back, pushing off bakugou’s hands and put in the work of riding him yourself. there’s no work that you need to get to later on—nothing that’s going to get in the way between you and him!

“missed you, katsuki! missed you, missed you!” your words are desperate and your cunt is eager to milk your fiancé’s cock. you ride him hard, even as your legs start to tire and you can feel a thin sheen of sweat start to form on your body, you don’t want to stop. you take him in, watching bakugou become equally overwhelmed. his eyes shut and his mouth drops open to groan, but when he attempts to open his eyes it seems that he doesn’t know where to look.

he loves watching your cunt swallow his dick, he loves how your tits bounce in his face when you fuck him like this, and he loves looking at your face as you—

smack!

“ah shit, the fuck was that for babe?” bakugou curses but he was actually exhilarated from you slapping him. normally he’s the one slapping your cheeks, but it’s not unheard of for you to give him the same treatment occasionally.

“you-you missed tasting wedding cakes with me! it was scheduled this month and you couldn’t make it!” you huff out, sitting back again onto his dick and this time shaking your hips. the little motion makes his eyes roll back but he manages to hiss out ‘m sorry baby…

oh fuck, you’re right. he had it marked off in his calendar three months prior but this stupid schedule wrecked everything! and who knows if you’ve had to reschedule or postpone certain things that are needed for the wedding all because of him.

once bakugou is back to work, he is definitely going to kill those stupid villain fuckers.

he stutters apologies, canting his hips up to meet yours and fucking you from the bottom. “sorry, fucking sorry baby… tell me everything that i missed. everything.”

“r-right now?” you shudder and then yelp when bakugou seizes control, putting you on your back and leaning over you, “tell you now?”

“no stupid, tell me when we’re not fucking.” bakugou tuts, deciding that you’re way too coherent with his dick in you. so he rams himself into you, deep into cunt and hearing another wet squelch that drips onto his cock and is gonna make a wet spot on the bed. he’s got plans to make you cum more, to make you squirt, to make you lose your voice from screaming for him but only after he listens to all the updates he’s missed for the last month.

he is going to fuck you as much as he can for the next two days.

bakugou misses your tight walls clinging onto him, sometimes clenching so hard that he has to wait for you to relax a little so that he can keep on moving. soft and wet and warm, he’s been obsessed with your pussy since the first date he had with you. he’s been in love with you for the last three years and he’s going to keep on loving you forever.

right now though, he just really really wants to fuck you for himself.

the frenzied fucking is everything that he’s been missing, watching as your head digs into the pillow and your body starts to shake. you were babbling a little earlier but now you’re so fucked out that you can only make sounds, no discernible words can be formed in your head or out loud. he’s got you suspended in ecstasy, drowning in a sea of rapture, and just absolutely stupid from his cock.

“missed this sloppy lil, pussy. fucking love this pussy, all fucking mine.”

bakugou reaches in between your bodies, knowing that he’s about to make you undone. he rubs the pad of his thumb against your clit in tandem with his thrusts. it’s like you’re renewed, your eyes widening in a brief moment of clarity at the new stimulation, taking in the onslaught of pleasure that’s surging up and down your body.

you wail for him, your toes curling and your back arching high off the bed. your cunt spasms around his cock, hugging him tightly before your orgasm crashes hard onto you. one of your arms manages to clutch onto bakugou and pulls him in close, your nails dragging down hard against his back.

that makes him come undone, fucking hard into you still as thick ropes of cum fill you. even as he cums, his fingers still work on your clit but you can barely manage to take anymore before slapping his hand away instinctively to stop overstimulating you.

your fiancé’s body is a pleasant weight that drops on you, the both of you catching your breath after some mind blowing sex. bakugou feels your hands soothe over his back. your touch is relaxing and what he’s been needing this entire time. he decides to stay like this until his cock finally softens inside you.

bakugou pulls out and rolls over to his side of the bed, pulling up the blankets to help cover you up while you still try to get yourself in order. he basks in the glow that he’s sure is radiating off of him, like a knot that’s finally massaged out of his neck, like a joint that finally cracks and gives you some relief when you stretch.

yeah… he’s been needing this.

the two of you are up on your feet and hour later, barely clothed in your own home as you walk around in an oversized sweatshirt and he leaves the bedroom only wearing his favorite sweats. bakugou is at the stove as he cooks breakfast and you’re catching him up on some of the things he’s missed on your side while you make a dirty chai for him.

“i can order a wedding cake sampler and have it delivered here, how does that sound? seeing as you missed the actual tasting.” you offer to your fiancé, stirring up his chai for him before setting it to the side, “comes with twelve flavors for us to try.”

“yeah, why not? i don’t think we’ve ever sat around just eating cake before.” bakugou agrees as he plates the second omelette that’s meant for you.

“it’s not just cake we’re eating, katsuki! it’s for the wedding! we need to choose what we think everyone will enjoy.” you chide him playfully as you set up the table for the two you. bakugou likes the setup of the little breakfast nook, but he leaves for the bathroom to fetch one thing that will make everything complete.

he picks up your engagement ring from your jewelry tray.

although bakugou is the one who decided to call off work suddenly, he can’t help but glance at his phone anyway for any updates. and he gets a single text from kirishima-

[9:01] good news! we’re off the hook for now with the case—managed to get todoroki’s agency to help rotate the watch too. enjoy your days off bro!

bakugou is grateful but he only sends it in the form of a thumbs up reaction to the text. he knows that kirishima appreciates it anyway and is probably just as relieved.

so he walks back to have breakfast with you, deciding to withhold the news from you for now as he tells you to put your ring on. and it feels right again to sit down and eat with you, drink from his favorite mug, and to be actually relaxed for the first time in a month.

“mmkay, the cakes are gonna be delivered by one! and i know it’s us choosing together, but i really liked the strawberry mousse with white cake as an option.”

he’s still got the next 40-something hours with you to fuck you as much as he wants and to make up all the time he’s missed.

[showerenclosures]

The Benefits of Installing Shower Enclosures With Shower Trays

Installing shower enclosures with shower trays provides a variety of benefits that can make any bathroom look more stylish and luxurious. Shower enclosures are a great way to customize the look and feel of a bathroom, while shower trays serve an important purpose of keeping water contained within the enclosure. In this article, we will discuss the advantages of installing shower enclosures with shower trays and why this is a great choice for any bathroom renovation project.

Table of Contents: I. Introduction II. Benefits of Installing Shower Enclosures With Shower Trays A. Increased Privacy B. Enhanced Aesthetics C. Improved Water Containment D. Increased Safety E. Variety of Shower Tray Options III. Conclusion

II. Benefits of Installing Shower Enclosures With Shower Trays

A. Increased Privacy: Installing a shower enclosure with a shower tray can provide an extra layer of privacy in the bathroom. The shower tray helps to contain the water within the enclosure and can prevent water from leaking out onto the floor, which can be a problem in a shared bathroom. This added privacy can be a great asset for those who are looking for a little extra peace and quiet in the bathroom.

B. Enhanced Aesthetics: Shower enclosures with shower trays can also provide an attractive and stylish look to any bathroom. The enclosure can be customized to match the existing decor and furnishings, and the shower tray can be designed with various colors and textures to give the bathroom a more luxurious look.

C. Improved Water Containment: The main benefit of installing a shower enclosure with a shower tray is improved water containment. The tray helps to contain the water within the enclosure, preventing it from spilling out onto the floor and creating a mess. This can be especially beneficial in shared bathrooms, as it helps to keep the water contained within the enclosure and reduce the amount of cleaning required.

D. Increased Safety: Installing a shower enclosure with a shower tray can also provide an additional layer of safety in the bathroom. The shower tray helps to keep the water contained within the enclosure, which can help to reduce the risk of slips and falls. This is especially important for those who are elderly or have mobility issues, as it can provide an extra layer of protection against falls and injuries.

E. Variety of Shower Tray Options: Shower trays come in a variety of materials, sizes, and shapes, so it is easy to find an option that fits the needs of the bathroom. Shower trays can be made of ceramic, porcelain, stone, or plastic, and can be designed to fit any size of shower enclosure. This allows for a great deal of customization and flexibility when it comes to creating a unique look for the bathroom.

III. Conclusion Installing shower enclosures with shower trays is a great choice for any bathroom renovation project. It provides improved water containment, increased privacy, enhanced aesthetics, and increased safety. Additionally, there are a variety of shower tray options available, which allows for a great deal of customization and flexibility when it comes to creating a unique look for the bathroom.

[wonsters]

⠀⠀𓈒⠀⠀𓏸 ⠀WAiTiNG ROOM : FRUTiGER-AERO⠀𓇼

This isn’t just a place to wait—it’s a place to be. Somewhere that exists outside of time and space, built entirely to serve your desires. The air hums with the soft buzz of infinite possibility as your thoughts shape the world around you. Here, relaxation is an art form, indulgence is encouraged, and everything is at your fingertips. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀bars that cater to your whims ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི The air hums softly with the clinking of delicate glasses and the murmur of your favourite melodies in the background. The bartender—perhaps a charming stranger, a famous actor, or a friendly AI in human form—knows your every preference without a word. Drinks appear like magic, tailored to your every mood: sparkling fruit spritzers that dance on your tongue, creamy milkshakes topped with edible gold dust, or dark, rich coffees brewed just so. Every sip feels like a new discovery, a little celebration of you. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀kitchens overflowing with endless delights ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི The kitchen is no ordinary room; it’s a sprawling paradise where the scent of fresh bread, simmering spices, and buttery pastries dances through the air. Counters gleam in polished marble, cupboards stretch endlessly, and every drawer holds a surprise. Say the word and a feast appears—perfectly plated sushi with intricate designs, steaming bowls of soul-warming ramen, and a cake so decadent it could make angels weep. There’s no limit. Want a perfectly nostalgic home-cooked meal like your mom’s? Or a creation plucked from your wildest culinary dreams? Done. The fridge hums happily, never empty, and the oven is always warm. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀bedrooms crafted for rest and dreaming ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི

Here lies the softest haven in existence, where sleep becomes an art form and dreams feel like journeys. The beds are immense, swathed in silk sheets and duvets that feel like a cloud’s embrace. Pillows mould perfectly to your head, each one cooler than the last, and the air smells faintly of lavender and rain. There’s always the perfect playlist for relaxation—soft whispers of the wind, delicate piano, or the gentle patter of rain against the window. And when you close your eyes? You drift effortlessly into dreams of golden fields, starlit skies, or anywhere your heart longs to wander. Even just lounging here feels like a rebirth. Time doesn’t matter—here, you’re held. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀rituals of serenity and liquid escapes ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི Step into a realm of ultimate relaxation, where the bathroom and swimming areas blend into a sanctuary of indulgence. The bathroom is a spa-like retreat, with chrome surfaces glowing under soft, golden light and the scent of lavender and eucalyptus in the air. Rainfall showers offer endless settings, while deep clawfoot tubs invite you to soak away every worry. Beyond, the swimming areas unfold like a dream—an infinity pool shimmers beneath a glowing dome of stars, while a hidden heated lagoon nestles among lush greenery. For playful moments, a vibrant pool awaits with slides, waterfalls, and floating loungers fitted with snack trays. Whether it’s the silk-like flow of water in the bath or the crystal-clear embrace of the pool, every corner invites you to escape and rejuvenate. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀cinemas where anything comes to life ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི

A cinema beyond your wildest imagination sprawls before you: plush seats that recline into near-nests of comfort, buttery popcorn and candy appearing at the snap of your fingers. But what’s on the screen? Anything. You want to watch a book you love turned into a perfectly directed masterpiece? Done. A fanfiction visualized with your dream cast, every scene sculpted exactly to your taste? It’s playing now. Want to relive moments from a DR or watch your favourite actor perform just for you? All here. The screen is endless, the quality so crisp, that it feels like you could step inside. And you can—should you choose, the scenes could stretch around you, pulling you into worlds of your own creation.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀a phone that bridges worlds ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི Resting delicately on a nightstand or tucked into your hand like a lifeline is the ultimate phone—a device that bends to your will. Its surface gleams softly, showing apps that let you scroll through TikTok or Instagram with ease. Every post feels perfectly curated, and time itself stretches so you never feel rushed. Handle accounts across your DRs, text your CR/DR friends as if they’re right there beside you, and exist on the edge of reality. Call someone who lives in the place you’re headed, or scroll just for the joy of it. This phone doesn’t glitch, doesn’t die—just waits, pulsing softly with endless possibilities.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀mirrors that let you become anything ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི

Standing like a gateway to wonder, the mirror isn’t ordinary glass—it’s liquid, shifting, alive. Step before it, and the reflection stirs, waiting for you to decide. Want to see yourself with softer features? A bolder wardrobe? Hair like cascading waves of moonlight or skin adorned with radiant tattoos? It adjusts instantly, letting you try on identities and aesthetics without limit. Spin in gowns made of galaxies, suits cut to perfection, or casual looks that feel so you. Every tweak and change feels satisfying, a playful exploration of who you are and could be. The mirror never judges; it just shows you the endless, beautiful possibilities of you. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀the atmosphere itself ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི Beyond the individual features, the very feeling of this waiting room is enough to make you melt. The air is a perfect temperature—just warm enough to hug your skin, with a breeze carrying the scents you love most. The lighting shifts seamlessly: soft and golden when you need peace, cool and vibrant when you want energy. Windows reveal scenes of beauty that change with your desires—sunlit forests, endless oceans, glittering cityscapes, or galaxies swirling with stars. Time bends and stretches here, never demanding anything from you. Also, the entire waiting room? Edible. Feel free to take a chunk from the floating sofa pod. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

GOD OMG THIS TOOK ME LIKE 3 HOURS. IM SO PROUD :3333

[taesanrot]

[earrings] anton x f!reader | 1.5k words fwb!anton, secret relationship kinda, theyre in a bit of a limbo hehe syn. in which anton accidently leaves behind evidence of his stay last night note. first anton au hehe, also my first riize fic in a minute. hope u guys r enjoying this series so far :)

now playing: earrings by malcolm todd

"her love is your head, you lost your earrings in her bed"

anton was fucked, he was sure of that. it only took a glance at his reflection in the mirror to notice the jewelry he was missing, his usual earrings nowhere to be seen.

hand shooting up to feel his jewelry-less earlobes, he sighed and massaged his temples slowly. it was barely 10 in the morning, and he'd just trudged back to his place after being shooed out of your apartment.

you and anton were … complicated, for a lack of better terms. if the two of you were being honest, you'd say you were talking — although you definitely did a lot more than that when you were together.

anton didn't mind the slower pace; he wasn't itching to jump into anything super quickly, and he enjoyed getting to know you bit by bit.

what he struggled with a little more was you requesting to keep things between the two of you a secret. your friend circles were pretty much merged, and you weren't super keen on letting them in on your escapades with the taller boy just yet.

this meant quiet excuses away from larger functions, meeting up to walk to one of your places, and panicked morning afters.usually he had until at least noon to make his way back to his own place, but today you'd promised your friends that you'd study for a calculus exam with them.

anton groaned and whined when you'd shaken him awake at nine in the morning, saying something about some people coming over in an hour. he could barely hear over his exhaustion, eyes bleary as he looked at your face hovering above him.

you were trying to explain that his friends were on their way but all he could focus on was the strands of your soft hair falling in his face and how good you smelled. you eventually herded the poor boy out of your apartment, sending him on his way back home with a wet kiss to his cheek and a protein bar.

what neither of you seemed to remember were anton's earrings sitting in the small tray on your nightstand. they were the earrings he wore everywhere — gold links with his initials engraved on the front.

over time, anton made a habit of taking them off and placing them on your nightstand before getting in bed with you. the two of you learned the hard way that keeping them on in bed was not a good idea; the second time anton came over, your hair had gotten tangled in the metal and he almost lost an earlobe.

groggily pulling his phone out of his pocket, anton debated sending you a text. he typed it out before hesitating. what if someone looked at your phone screen and saw the text from him? how would you explain yourself? frustrated, anton shut his phone off and tossed it onto his bed.

god, anton hated sneaking around. but he liked you, more than he'd like to admit, and the last thing he wanted was go against what you asked of him. he just hoped that no one would notice the earrings before going to take a shower.

...

"morning." seunghan greeted you cheerfully as you answered the door. shotaro and sohee followed after, waving at you before walking into your apartment.

"sup, ning." as you shut the door you heard shotaro greet ningning, who had arrived 10 minutes earlier and was sitting in your living room.

eventually, the 5 of you migrated to your bedroom to study — you, ningning, and sohee were sprawled across the floor while shotaro and seunghan sat on your bed. your calculus notes were strewn about, having studied for what felt like days.

yawning and stretching his arms, seunghan sat up a bit, taking his attention off of the chapter you guys were reviewing. the rest of you were chattering with each other, reviewing a practice problem that was particularly confusing.

"ugh, what time is it?" he mumbled, leaning over to look at the clock on your nightstand. his phone was somewhere in your blankets and his notes, and he wasn't keen on looking for it.

before his eyes could drift to your alarm clock sitting on the nightstand, his attention was caught by something shiny glinting at his eyes.

your focus was pulled from your notes as you heard a soft gasp from the direction of your bed. looking up, your eyes widened at the sight in front of you.

seunghan had one of anton's earrings in his fingers, eyes squinting as he inspected it curiously.

"are these anton's?" he asked suspiciously, turning to look at you. his lips were curled slightly upwards, clearly amused by the discovery. your cheeks burned in embarrassment as you stumbled over your words, not knowing what to say.

"uh-" before you could deny it, sohee interjected.

"they totally are! he wears those like every day!" sohee exclaimed. shotaro and ningning also looked up from their work, both of them giggling at how obviously flustered you were.

"no they're not, those are mine." you mumbled unconvincingly, cringing at how bad your lie was.

"you're lying! i can see his initials on them!" seunghan was leaning across the bed to show the rest of your friends, all of them nodding in agreement.

"y/n why do you have those?" ningning's head tilted confusedly as she turned in your direction. after a beat of silence, a look of realization passed across shotaro's face.

"he was here, wasn't he?" he asked, the knowing smile on his face growing even bigger. you choked on your spit at his question, coughing lightly.

"what are you talking about?" sohee rolled his eyes and seunghan laughed loudly at your weak response.

"hyung's right, he totally was here!"

"did he spend the night?"

"oh my god y/n did you guys fuck?"

"ok, enough!" you spoke up, finally finding your voice. you gulped nervously before continuing. "yes, anton was here last night. we've been seeing each other for a while."

you let out the biggest breath, one you didn't even know you were holding as the words escaped your mouth. seunghan was the first one to break the silence following your announcement.

"i fucking knew it!" he exclaimed, taking you by surprise.

"huh?" you asked, perplexed.

"you know you guys aren't that subtle right?" ningning laughed as she spoke, ruffling your hair gently. "we all noticed you two leaving every function together."

"not to mention the way you basically eye fuck each other 24/7" sohee fake gagged, earning a punch in the arm from you.

…

after his whirlwind of a morning, anton decided to shower and take a well-deserved nap. unlike you, he did not have calculus test to study for, so after washing up he climbed into his covers and caught up on some much needed sleep.

a couple hours later, he finally woke up, groaning at the sun shining onto his face. it was late afternoon, and the light shined directly on his eyes, making going back to sleep nearly impossible. stretching his arms and legs, he rubbed his eyes and sat up groggily, grabbing his phone to check the time.

to his surprise, he was greeted by what seemed like 100 notifications from his messages. clicking them open, his eyes widened as the words came into focus.

it was in fact, your friends' group chat discussing the two of your and your not-so-secret arrangement. his eyes nearly popped out of his head reading the texts, still groggy from just waking up.

scrolling through the rest of his notifications quickly, he clicked on one with your name.

3 missed calls from y/n <3

[2:03 p.m.] y/n <3: r u asleep? call me when you see this

anton's fingers were practically shaking as he dialed your number, each ring making him wish the earth would open up and swallow him whole. his anxious thoughts were interrupted by your soft voice.

"hey."

"hi."

"um… did you see the groupchat?" anton winced. straight to the point, then.

"yeah… i'm sorry. i forgot them in a rush this morning" he felt like he was holding his breath waiting for you to answer, until he heard you chuckle on the other end of the line.

"anton, it's okay."

"what? but i thought-"

"it's about time we told them anyways, i'm tired of sneaking around." you laughed as you heard anton stutter on the line.

"plus, i like you, a lot."

"me too." he spoke softly, his heart nearly exploding in his chest. you smiled on the other end; his timidness never failed to make you feel giddy.

"good, cause it would've been really awkward if you didn't" you giggled, fiddling with the end of your shirt.

"so … does this mean i can take you on a real date now?"

"hmmm i guess that's fine" you answered teasingly. anton sighed dramatically on the other end, slapping a hand over his chest so loud that even you could hear it.

"in that case, what are you doing tonight?"

…

[bonus] the groupchat

[nana-au]

Big Brother’s Best Friend!

(or BBBF for short)

Suguru Geto♡

MDNI

 ₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: You’re Satoru’s little sister with a hopeless crush on his best friend - Suguru. He knows this too, and promises you won’t be anything more. (You’ll just have to work harder).

₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: unrequited love (at first), reader laying it on thick, slight age gap (4 years - adults!!), slight possessiveness, little lamb/big bad wolf metaphor, wet dream, size kink, semi-public sex, cock warming, making you watch in the mirror, m! receiving oral, breeding kink - is this list filthy enough?

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 2.4k

 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

BBBF! Sugu who has known you forever as his best friend’s little sister - nothing more. He’s been aware of the special place in your heart for him for ages now. It wasn’t that he didn’t have one for you - his was just strictly platonic. 

BBBF! Sugu who treated you better than any boy when the two of you were in grade school. He walked with you in the lunch line, preferring to hold your tray for you. He lent you his jacket when you accidentally bled through your pants - promising he wouldn’t be upset if you stained it. He even punched a guy in his grade for making lewd comments about you - the suspension was no big deal. “He needed to be taught a lesson on respecting women,” he informed the principal. 

BBBF! Sugu who texted you every day when he went off to college, leaving you like a lamb thrown to the wolves. He listened to you rant about your school work and every minute detail of drama between your friend group. Instead of fully appreciating his kindness you often cursed him, blubbering over Facetime about why he had to be so attentive. If he didn't like you, he needs to ignore you! It was too much for your sore heart. 

BBBF! Sugu who set a boundary when he caught wind of you turning guys down for him. You were basically his little sister. Precious and fragile. He only ever wanted to protect you - but it was his job to protect you now from your delusional ideas. It was hard - but the remainder of High School you went without hearing from him. 

BBBF! Sugu who spends the summer of his senior year at his friend’s mansion. He forgot how lavish it was. The shower head hung from the ceiling, his guest bedroom fit a couch, and the outdoor pool must’ve been olympic size! He spent his days poolside with Gojo, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the cool mojitos that slid down his throat so effortlessly. 

BBBF! Sugu who chokes on one of his many mojitos seeing you in your little two piece. You just arrived back from your study abroad trip in Spain. Your skin was sun kissed and your hair was parted differently from what he remembered. That was among the respectful differences he noted about you… but the disrespectful ones? The ones that would have Satoru smacking him upside the head? Those were plentiful. Your plush breasts filled out your top, your pebbled buds visible through the thin material. And your ass? Your swim bottoms were swallowed whole by your plump cheeks. You grew into your form to say the least. 

BBBF! Sugu who after all these years still turns you down. The two of you are sitting by the firepit outside, waiting on Gojo to grab the graham crackers and marshmallows. Your voice is hardly above a whisper when you ask Geto if you were still just his best friend’s little sister - trying to play it off like a joke but you can’t hide the fat tears at the edge of your eyes when he promises that’s still all you’ll ever be.

BBBF! Sugu who maintains his composure even when you turn up the heat. He didn’t know it was possible for clothes to cover so little. How could they possibly try to sell that as a skirt? You probably weren’t helping the clothes look proper when you dropped your phone in front of him. He was sprawled lazily across the couch, manspreading while enjoying the movie playing on the big screen mounted on the wall when your phone slipped from your grasp. You were just checking if the two of them wanted any snacks for their movie when your small hands lost grip, bending down to pick it back up. You must’ve forgotten how to pick things up like a proper lady - you bent completely forward, feeling the cool air on your backside. Silly you! You stretched your arm, taking your time to check for any cracks before standing back up straight. Your phone survived the fall! Isn’t that great? Geto’s throat felt constricted as he hummed a response to you, “How fortunate.”

BBBF! Sugu who deserves an award for how good of a friend he is; Who else would turn down your advances time and time again? He looks at you deadset - your doe eyes unblinking and plump lips frowning, glossed over with a pink shimmer - as he tells you he won’t help you put away the laundry. Recalling the last time he agreed to fold your cute little panties and roll your ruffled lace socks you decided the shirt you were hanging up would look much better with your current shorts. You wasted no time plucking the shirt right off your body, exposing your bare chest to the raven haired man. He didn’t have the strength to look away and he would be cursing himself the rest of the day for allowing you to trick him.

BBBF! Sugu who doesn’t like the stupid fucking guy you brought over. He was handsy and unabashedly groping your ass while you straddled him on the couch. He was completely brazen to be doing this while Satoru was in the bathroom just down the hall - and entirely disrespectful to give your cheeks a firm SMACK! 

BBBF! Sugu who throws the guy out, dragging him through the house by his ear - Giving the back of his head a firm push out the door before slamming it on him. He turns to you, “If I ever see that asshole here again he won’t be able to walk himself out.”

BBBF! Sugu who is rocking his hips into yours as you helped him through his bad dream. You didn’t mean to join him in bed, you just heard his soft cries down the hall and came to comfort him. Your hand came down on his chest, trying to shake him awake but instead he pulled you down on top of him. You immediately felt his hard on pressed against your thigh, his hips rutting into you. You noted his face was free of tears - it wasn’t a bad dream at all. His words were slurred by sleep but his moans were incredibly clear. His breath was shaky and Gosh his dick felt big. Your mouth watered at the thought of seeing it in front of your eyes. “M’pretty lil lamb,” his sleeping form murmured. You understood that clear as day. You held your breath as you waited to hear more, “Feel s’good,” Lips forming an ‘o’ and cock twitching. You wanted him so bad, wanted to pull down his sweats and suck him off right then. Have his thick cock twitching in your wet mouth. You were drooling - but you knew better. He was asleep and he would be deeply disappointed waking up to your mouth. You hated the girl he was dreaming of. Why wouldn’t it ever be you? You stayed with him until his dick stopped twitching and his body calmed. Kissing his forehead before stumbling out of his quarters. 

BBBF! Sugu who woke up with wet briefs every morning. He felt like a hormonal teen all over again - cumming in his sleep over the lewd scenes that plagued his dreams. 

BBBF! Sugu who was a very, very bad friend. You were the subject of every one. His best friend’s little sister. He was a sick puppy.

BBBF! Sugu who didn’t understand why you were ignoring him. Was this your new strategy? Give enough spank material for a decade and then cut off all contact? Because, fuck, was it working.

BBBF! Sugu who couldn’t take it anymore! He stopped you at the door before you were able to leave to get a drink from your favorite cafe. “What happened?” his eyes intense as he asked you. You - who played dumb. “Don’t make me sound crazy, baby. I do something?” you shake your head and shrug your shoulders. “You don’t like me. Thought I would finally leave you alone,” you sounded defeated. That made him mad. This wasn’t you. 

BBBF! Sugu who wanted to punch himself seeing you cry. You couldn’t help pounding your fists into his chest and crying aloud at how this was all he ever wanted - You swallowing down your pathetic little crush on him no matter how much it hurt. How dare he act offended over something he nearly begged for. How dare he ignore you for three whole years - blocking your number. You were doing him a favor. The sound of the door you slammed in his face echoed through his skull. You were entirely right to be upset with him. He was a jerk. An asshole. Absolutely the worst. But at least he knew what he wanted now. 

BBBF! Sugu who didn’t have to try too hard to convince you to sneak around Satoru with him. You took him so good anytime that obnoxious white haired idiot wasn’t looking. In Suguru’s guest suite, the hot tub next to the pool, even the couch while the three of you watched a movie. Gojo snorted at the comedic scene, pointing at the tv and turning to look at you to see if you also found it funny. Your lips were tight as you feigned humor, trying not to make what was happening obvious. You were sitting in Geto’s lap, warming his cock during the movie. Neither of you had any idea why he just accepted the fact you were in his lap, with a blanket covering the two of you. Satoru wasn’t really known for being a critical thinker after all. The earlier experience in Suguru’s bed was accurate - his cock was massive. Your tight hole clenched around him, wanting so badly for him to move.  Even just a little! You wouldn’t be picky! Your slick coated his thighs, his girth making you impossibly wet. “I haven’t even moved yet, little lamb,” he teased in your ear, “S’wet.” 

The first time you saw it was in his room a day after your fight. A few words were exchanged, him admitting you were right. He was an asshole - but he wanted you now. 

“You’ll finally get exactly what you always wanted,” his eyes concentrated on yours. You were overcome by joy. Fighting every bone in your body telling you to jump up and down, to scream and cry out in celebration. Instead you put your mouth to good use, immediately falling to the floor and popping his dick in your mouth. You weren’t new to blowjobs or sex - you wanted to be prepared for when Geto finally caved. You wanted to impress him, to make him obsessed with how skilled your tongue was swirling around his cock. Impressed he was too, his head falling back and letting out a sweet groan. “Do I even want to know where you learned this from?”, he was devastated at your precision. How many undeserving losers did you practice on for your mouth to feel this good? Your tongue pressed flat against his vein, running it up the underside before kitten licking his tip. His pre cum was delicious, salty and bitter and perfect. “You really didn’t hesitate getting right into tasting me,” he chuckled to himself, obsessed with how you immediately began to suck his cock the moment he reciprocated feelings. “Did I make my lamb wait too long?”

BBBF! Sugu who pounds your pussy all throughout the night. He loves you in every position. He teases you in missionary, going impossibly slow and watching your eyebrows furrow as you beg him to pick up the speed. Your ass jiggles perfectly as you take backshots, your hair in his hand as he slaps his balls into your clit again and again. He loves the way you fold in half as he traps you in a mating press, listening to the sweet sounds of your sopping pussy taking his cock. It wasn’t long for you to be completely cock drunk. You would lose yourself the moment he fucked into you and would become incredibly lost the moment he pulled out. 

His favorite thing of all was lifting you up and down his cock, using you like a fleshlight. He was obsessed with how much bigger he was than you. How he was able to effortlessly glide you against his cock, his meaty hands holding you up by your thighs. Sometimes he forced you to watch in the full length mirror in the corner of his room, “Eyes open, beautiful. You don’t get to cum unless you’re watching it.” Some days he would take pity on you, it was so hard to keep your eyes open while he was sooooo deep in you. Your cunt was abused day in and day out by his cock bullied deep into you. “You take me s’good. Wan’ you to have my babies - fuck. Always look so good with my load dripping out of you,” his words were filthy and animalistic. “Gonna fill that tight pussy with my children, gon’ have you looking plump n cute,” it was all you ever wanted from him. He was the perfect gentleman, even now. You didn’t have to lift a finger with him around. You would do anything to keep him obsessed with you, even if that meant carrying every child he gave you by fucking deep inside of you. It wasn’t hard to accept when it felt so good feeling his hot cum coat your walls, him not letting up even when he finished cumming. “Gotta make sure you take it all. Have ‘ta fill you completely full. You can take a few more of my loads.” His loads were huge. He emptied enough into you each orgasm you would think it was the first time he ever came. 

BBBF! Sugu who made sure you were alright after every intense session. “I have to make sure I didn’t hurt my little lamb. If I did, I would be no better than the other wolves.”

[woncon]

➳ sick duty.

➶ poly!ateez x gn!reader (yungisang focus) ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ Yunho is sick, and you and Yeosang are on sick duty. When the others still haven't arrived with jelly, you decide to go to the nearest shop in the raging storm and buy some, because Yunho really wants them.

➴ genre: slice of life, sickfic, estabilished relationship, polyamory, non-idol!au

: ̗̀➛ warnings: yungisang focus, but everyone gets screen time, poor yunho has a fever, one sexually suggestive offer, petnames, nudity

⌨ :: 3.5K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ This idea came to me when I saw a double rainbow in early June while listening to Golden Hour Pt1. It was supposed to play in the summer, but I never got to the end. Now autumn came and I decided to write it. But in this rainy, gloomy weather it seemed better to set it in a more autumnal setting. That changed my basic idea a lot, but I'm happy with it as it is.

⁀➷ My lovely @wonsheep, I'm still sorry the rain poured on you so heavily on Wednesday. :( But it was very motivating, as you can see. Many thanks for reading through the story and founding my silly mistakes!

➳ mlist

I'm hot.

I want tea.

I'm cold.

The sickly season of the autumn-winter months spares no one. Yunho, who is hard to dislodge from whatever well-endowed giraffe's legs he has, is now curled up in the middle of the bed, disconsolate because he didn't pull on a thick enough scarf, or was carelessly underdressed in the living room, or simply spent too much time around a co-worker who has been lurking with some virus. Whichever the case, the poor guy is in a terrible mood.

"I want medicine," he whispers his next wish.

You look at your watch.

“One more hour before you can take the next one,” you say, brushing his hair away to touch his sweat beaded forehead. It's still as warm as underfloor heating.

Frustrated, he rolls to the side and buries his head fully into the pillow. You drop your hands back into your lap, helpless. It's simply exasperating to watch him suffer, to listen to his snotty, ragged breathing mix with the rain beating against the window.

“Do you want something to help?” you ask, when he turns to you again and raises his feverish eyes to you. The skin around his nose is flushed from all the blowing.

“Jelly.”

Yunho is convinced that jelly sweets can help him. Or at least when he's sick, he likes to eat sweets. Other times, not so much. Unfortunately, you guys weren't prepared for Yunho being sick in the near future. Plus, there's a storm brewing, the kind you haven't seen in a long time. It's been raining steadily for a week now, sometimes more, sometimes less. The others went to do the shopping with the car, leaving Yunho behind with the promise to bring him some jelly. He responded with a small, grateful smile.

Now, looking at his tortured expression, you would give a lot to see that smile again, the hope in his eyes. You reach out and take his hand. You sigh. Gently, slowly, you caress the back of his hand, knowing how sensitive he is to touch when he has a fever. You don't want to overdo it and hurt him, but at the same time you want to let him know physically that you're there for him.

"It's on the way." You really hope it is. The last time Jongho called, they were already at the checkout. Your youngest friend boasted that they were bringing five full bags of jelly beans. That was about twenty minutes ago. No news since then. It bothers you that you can't offer an immediate solution to Yunho's every wish.

Before Yunho can ask any more questions, the door opens. Yeosang arrives with a tray holding a steaming mug and something wrapped in napkins that you can't identify yet. With cautious steps, he moves to the other side of the bed among some discarded clothes - because Yunho didn't want to shower this morning, just threw everything off the bed he'd chosen as his regular place - and then takes a seat, placing the tray safely on the bedside table, gently moving Seonghwa's half-finished book.

“I've brought the tea," he says to Yunho. "And I found some biscuits to go with it."

Interested, the patient moves up on the pillow, but still looks vulnerable. Yeosang holds the cup in his hand and gives the man small sips. Meanwhile, you get up and gather up the laundry strewn around the bed and take it to the bathroom. On the way, you hear a conversation emanating from the kitchen, from which you hear the word 'jelly bean' clearly spoken at one point. So after throwing the laundry in the hamper, you go to the kitchen instead of the bedroom. The room is filled with the smell of hot water and tea leaves. Mingi is putting away the tea ingredients. The call is already finished, his phone is on the counter.

Originally, Mingi wouldn’t be on sick duty today. Today's subordinates are you and Yeosang, Mingi just didn't want to leave the apartment in this crazy weather and he’s helping you instead. It's not like this sick duty thing is strict in your relationship, and it's set in stone that Mingi can only nurse Yunho on Mondays and Fridays and holidays or anything. That said, there are rules. For example, Mingi usually only needs one nurse when he gets a cold or something more serious, but at such times it is Yunho for most of the time. Then there's Jongho, who, if he falls ill, no matter what the schedule, has all eight of you at his disposal twenty-four hours a day. Or, again, there's Seonghwa, who hides the fact that he's sick until it's too obvious, and you're all freaking out as to why he won't let you take care of him.

Yunho usually hardly gets sick. When he does, even a mild cold will get him down. And when he is ill, he's even fussier than the sick Wooyoung, and only one lover has a hard time coping with his demands. Usually two people are enough to care for him if there are jelly beans nearby. Which, for now, there aren’t.

“Are they on their way home?” you ask Mingi, who's packing honey. 

"It's worse downtown than here," he says. "The traffic's bad. They're just moving towards home inch by inch."

You both look out of the window, and the tapping of the rain remains as unrelenting as the fever that plagues Yunho.

“Is the tea to his liking?”

“I'm sure of it,” you smile at him. Mingi is usually insecure when it comes to Yunho's well-being. You suspect that the boy's illness was a more significant reason for Mingi to stay home than his desire not to get wet. “But you can ask him.”

You return to the bedroom with Mingi at your side. You remind yourself that this room now functions as a ward. The patient is huddled near the edge of the bed, munching on biscuits soaked in tea, so that they don't scratch his throat.

“It's not jelly,” he mutters, then pulls away from Yeosang and lies back on the upholstered cushions.

You look at Yeosang. Your theory is that you're thinking the exact same thing. If jelly beans are the only thing that helps your boyfriend, you'll do anything to get them. You're even willing to go to the convenience store in the pouring rain, because when you are on sick duty, Yunho mustn't lack anything.

"We'll go and get jelly beans," you say. Yeosang nods his head in commitment.

“We'll go?” Mingi looks terrified. “All of us?”

You can't leave Yunho alone in this state. It's a good thing that Mingi is here, in addition to Yeosang and you, ready for action, and not stuck in traffic with the others downtown. 

“No. You stay here with Yunho and look after him.”

Mingi continues to blink. 

“We'll be quick, don't worry, you don't have to multitask. Yuyu will probably fall asleep soon.”

"It's not me I'm worried about," he protests, "You'll get wet and cold."

"The store is not far away. We won't have enough time in the rain to freeze to death."

Yeosang wraps Yunho in a blanket and kisses him on the head.

"Mingi?" The man folded in a burrito addresses the worried individual.

“Yes?”

“Gimme a hug.”

Mingi doesn't resist, but climbs onto the bed, swapping places with Yeosang, who pats his shoulder as he passes. Before you even leave the room, you hear Mingi apologize and ask for Yunho's forgiveness.

Yeosang sticks the umbrella out the door. Just a little to test how much it rains. There's really barely any surface out, but the wind immediately grabs it and tugs it further. He pulls it back in time before the umbrella swings out or the wind wins, and you close the door with a great struggle, which also wants to jump off its hinges from the violent gusts of wind.

“I think this will stay here,” Yeosang says, and then drops the solid black umbrella behind you.

You zip up your raincoat. It occurs to you that maybe Mingi is right, and you'll be so wet you'll get stuck in a puddle of icy water. Yet the idea doesn't discourage you, doesn't make you stay, because Yunho needs the jellies.

Yeosang adjusts his hood, then holds out his hand. You embrace him tightly. You check your wallet stashed in the waterproof pocket one last time and place your hand on the doorknob. Then you push it down. The door swings open, and you let it drag you along with it. The back of your coat gets soaked immediately. The rain doesn't fall, it instead pours down from behind in a wave with the wind. Clinging on to Yeosang in vain, it's hard to keep up your own pace and not lurch forward like a rag doll. It's a wonder your boyfriend can close the door.

Although the shop is indeed a block away, at this time it feels like you're wandering for eternity. For one thing, the scenery is completely different in the rain, it's harder to navigate, especially in the raging, commanding wind. Around one corner, Yeosang has to pull you in, because out of nowhere a car appears, its wheels gallantly splashing a full puddle onto the pavement.

Somehow, you do reach the store. As soon as the automatic door closes behind you, the storm is out of the way. Inside, the weather is pleasant. Only the clothes clinging to your skin and the small puddles and mud stains on the floor left by other shoppers are reminders of what a doomsday is happening outside.

“Huh,” you sigh in relief. The first game of the war against weather is over. You only have one more to go to succeed in the jelly bean mission.

“We're crazy," Yeosang shakes his head in disbelief. Then he smiles up at you, sweetly and lovingly, because he's proud you're crazy. You return it.

Insanity is part of sick duty to some extent. Last time San must have used up thirty tissues a day, and ran out in the middle of the week. Hongjoong ran so fast to replace the used-up packets that he was almost hit by a truck. And when you were sick and craving nothing but a mug of hot tomato soup when all the shops were closed and there were no tomatoes at home, only ketchup... Well, Jongho tried.

You purposefully seek out sweets. Luckily, you don't have to wander around and scout the place, you'll often find yourself here. You take off two bags of Yunho's favourite flavour, sour apple. You remember again how pitiful your otherwise healthy and cheerful boyfriend looks.

“This will help him,” Yeosang says encouragingly, as if he's reading your mind.

You nod, then head for the cashier. You get in line. From here, you can see the window and the rain pouring down.

For the first time since the jelly bean plan was born, you have time to think about Mingi's excuse when he cuddled up to Yunho. It's my fault. I'm sorry. But how could it be his fault that Yunho caught a cold?

You're rewinding the previous two weeks. Yunho was in home office the whole time. He really enjoyed it, and when he wasn't working, he was playing video games. He didn't put his foot out until one time when he had to pop down to the shop for something. It didn't rain so heavily that day, just a gentle drizzle. Maybe Mingi had taken off Yunho's blanket one night? It couldn't be, either, because they'd been sleeping far apart lately.

It's your turn, so you suspend your musings. When you get back, you'll ask Mingi and hope it's not too embarrassing for him not to tell you. If he feels guilty, you could help him and reassure him that it's not his fault.

You and Yeosang pay. You put the bags in your coat pockets. You pull the hood up, not that it matters. You cling together again, then step out onto the soggy pavement. 

The way back is harder. This time the wind brings the rain from the front. Each blast smacks you in the face. Neither of your hoods can stay up. Your hair gets wet, the rain drips under your coat. You successfully step into a puddle, literally splashing in the muddy water, and the inside of your boots get soaked. You're wet everywhere, from your elbows to your toes. It's really annoying, but you don't falter, clutching Yeosang's arm until you reach the sheltering door of your home to drop in like two wet rags on the threshold and with a combined effort you shut out the cold, ominous wind. Yeosang slides along the door, his hair leaving a wet streak on the wooden panel.

“We did it,” he sighs, and proudly rattles one of the jelly beans he pulls out of his pocket. The bag is intact, of course.

“We did,” you agree, and pull him up off the ground.

Suddenly you're faced with the problem of not knowing what to take off first because everything is equally soaked. It's almost as if your clothes are the cool part of your skin, plus outer layers. Finally, following your boyfriend's example, you throw your coat on the floor first, then your shoes on the doormat, and socks after.

Before you reach for the next layer of clothing, there is the sound of footsteps. You think Mingi is coming, but when he sighs, you realize it's not your tall lover.

“You guys are adorable and dedicated, but silly at the same time," says Hongjoong with crossed arms.

“But at least Yunho’s jellies will hold out until he heals,” answers Yeosang, taking off his shirt.

“When did you arrive?” you ask.

“About a minute ago. But we'll talk later. Now go take a shower before you too end up feverishly next to Yunho,” Hongjoong advises, then retreats and San steps forward. He unconcealedly runs his eyes over Yeosang's naked torso, and yours, which still has your shirt stuck to it, rather tightly, so it might even be useless.

“If you get sick, I'll be on sick duty every day. The thing is, the adorable, dedicated, silly people are just my type” he winks.

“Move over, Sanie," Wooyoung appears and nudges the other one in the side, "You promised to help hyung pack up.”

San hums and walks away, but still smiles in your direction. You all love to oblige Hongjoong and Seonghwa, and that goes for when there's an opportunity to flirt as well.

“You two are sexy, all wet,” Wooyoung admits. “If you need help with the shower, let me know. I'll be within earshot.”

“We'll consider it,” you promise. Wooyoung nods with a grin, and he also retreats to the kitchen.

You pass through the hallway, but before you can go to the bathroom, Jongho stands in front of you with a plate of jelly beans. “Here. I thought you should be the ones to give it to him. You made a greater sacrifice, and most of us stayed dry. Except for Hwa hyung, who opened the door and held the umbrella.”

“Thank you,” you say at the same time. While Yeosang takes the bowl, you press a kiss on Jongho's cheek.

When you retire to the bedroom, the scene is quite cozy. Yunho is in bed, hugging Mingi, craving jelly beans, and you offer him what he craves most, and what you fought Mother Nature for.

“We got it,” you report.

Yunho snaps his head up. The mere hope brings life to his sick features. You stand by the bed, careful not to get rainwater on it.

“Here, hyung," Yeosang hands the bowl to him in a soft whisper.

“I hope you weren’t too desperate, baby. We hurried as much as we could.”

“You're the best," says Yunho, touched, between bites. “I love you.”

“We love you too, giant baby. Very much,” you assure him.

And he smiles up at you. The mission is a complete success. Whether all that time and getting soaked was enough to put you to bed remains to be seen. In the meantime, you bask in success.

Mingi sneezes. Then he reaches under the pillow and takes out a handkerchief. “My throat may be a tiny bit scratchy.”

“Should we set up someone on sick duty for you too?” Yeosang offers readily.

“Our poor boyfriends,” you sigh, watching them. Yunho in the midst of illness, Mingi as he probably slips into a state of flux.

“I deserve it,” murmurs Mingi, looking ruefully at Yunho.

“Why do you think so?” you ask the question that has been nagging at you for a good twenty minutes.

“When we ran out of milk last week, Yunho and I went to the grocery store... I offered to make out with him in the rain. It didn't rain much, and there was no wind. Still, that's how Yunho got cold.”

"Come on," the other protests hoarsely. He sucks on a jelly bean with great enthusiasm. You wouldn't believe he can taste it. “You offered, I agreed, I could have said no, but I didn't. All in all, it was worth it.”

“Worth it?” Yeosang raises his eyebrows. “You were dying before the jelly arrived.”

"If you haven't kissed Mingi in the rain, you won't understand," he declares, then turns to Mingi. “Want a jelly, princess?

Yeosang and you leave them alone, let them romance each other in the infirmary. Barefoot, you stomp off to the bathroom. You open the door, and a thick, fragrant steam rises from the room. A pleasant warm breeze reminds you how cold you are. You hurry inside. Yeosang closes the door to keep the comforting steam from escaping.

Seonghwa is already drying his hair and got dressed. You look at him expectantly, ready to be reprimanded. But he has no such plans. He takes your face with one hand and Yeosang's with the other. “I am proud of you. Take a bath, then we can watch a movie. We made a whole list while we were stuck in traffic.”

Yeosang hums, you nod in response. Good idea. At this time of year, there's no point in doing anything other than curling up on the sofa together.

You bask in Seonghwa's soft touch until the last moment, and the knowledge that he's proud of you. It's really enjoyable to play good cop, bad cop with Hongjoong, and they don’t scold you twice. Regardless, you need to figure out a way to cheer up that boyfriend of yours who called you adorable, dedicated, and silly all at the same time. 

“So he probably caught it while kissing,” you acknowledge what you've heard by tugging your trousers down after Seonghwa has left you alone.

“Interesting.”

“And understandable. Sounds romantic.”

“Do you want to go back?” Yeosang glances up at you as he pulls towels out of the closet. The look in his eyes is willing. It embarrasses you to know that he would take a single word from you and go back with you into the pouring rain to fulfill that desire.

“I wouldn’t do it in this weather. But, for example, standing in a cool summer drizzle, refreshing after the heat. When me and my partner won’t be so likely to have a fever for a week.”

“Last summer Woo did it with someone. I think it was with Sanie, but I'm not sure. Maybe he caught Hongjoong hyung in a moment of weakness.”

“Really? Is it fashionable to kiss in the rain in our relationship?”

“A bit.” Yeosang undresses completely. 

Your hand is over the laundry basket, you've dropped the last of your clothes in it, yet you don't move. You’re looking at Yeosang. At his naked back, how rainwater is dripping from his hair, onto his delicate muscles. The line of his shoulder blades as his back narrows, ending in the lovely hips you'd hold in your hands for days. And of course you can't neglect his ass or his thighs or his whole being, because once you start looking at him, one part of him is not enough, and the whole of him is overwhelmingly wonderful.

He turns back to you. “Are you coming?”

“Sure.” You follow him into the bath. You take his face in the palm of your hand and kiss him on the lips. “Wooyoung was right.” 

“About what?”

"You're sexy when you're wet," you explain, and at the same time you probably reveal that you were just staring at him.

"He didn't just say that to me, love," he replies, pulling you close. Then he opens the water. The warm, soothing drops fall on your head and drip down your chilled skin. Like rain.

“I have an idea. Let's kiss here like it's raining.”

“Oh,” Yeosang smiles sweetly. His thumb caresses your cheek. “Okay.”

And you shower until the hot water runs out.

[yurozo]

resident evil headcanons (restaurant au)

characters: leon, chris, jill, claire, rebecca, ada, luis, carlos, wesker. a/n: this was created as a joke between me and my friends that completely spiralled out of control. maybe the stupidest au i've ever created. wesker and friends hit me up if you wanna use this warnings: vulgar language. sorry, i'm canadian, we swear a lot here.

chris redfield (bartender): he's one of the first hires, and has been working as the head bartender forever. he absolutely loves to lowkey trauma dump on customers unknowingly, only to shake the mixer after just to avoid the awkward silence. the owner has had to move the tv's out of the way of the bar because chris will only look at the screen and fuck up every single drink during a big game. refuses leon everytime he tries to come up to the bar for drinks. he knows when it's him, leon always tries to input it in the system as a customer order for a table that isn't occupied, but he always orders his whiskey in a very specific way that outs him. chris will pour it out in front of him to make a point. he eventually had to make a memo about not letting leon take drinks from the bar anymore. to customers, he is every older woman's wet dream. he knows that flexing his biceps will rake him in more tips, so he does it often. also does it when women are being hit on by creepy men to scare them away. the night that he wears tight turtlenecks are his big paycheck days. chris will never admit that he likes when people squeeze his arms. chris is the guy that everyone has a crush on when they first start working there, it's basically an initiation rite at this point. he's the friendliest one of the bunch and gives wholesome big bro vibes and it makes him absolutely irresistible to new hires. (x reader) if you're working alongside chris in the bar, prepare to constantly run into him. he's a massive guy, and maneuvering around a little bar with that hunk is near impossible without a couple collisions. after a while, he's learned to put a gentle hand on your back whenever he has to move behind you, all for the sake of "workplace safety". he loves to sneak food from the kitchen and share it with you, but this man eats like a horse. like the chefs are genuinely surprised on how much food this man can physically fit inside his body, but he will always leave a portion for you. it takes him a long time to make a move because he's afraid of ruining your friendship and workplace relationship. leon kennedy (server): he got hired a little after everyone else, and got put onto the waitstaff because of his looks. however, this man is super awkward with patrons despite being super popular with older women. he's always getting propositions to get set up with someone's daughter and he always unknowingly shoots them down. (customer: "you're really cute, leon: "ok.") he always makes little jokes to lighten the mood and it is an instant vibe killer. the only people who like them are the old ladies who think he's cute, and dads who genuinely think he's funny.

as for the whiskey incident, leon has tried multiple times to pretend being a bartender when chris is on break to sneak himself a drink. he claims that it makes him better at serving, but three broken trays and countless shattered glasses say otherwise.

leon does have kind of a blank expression when patrons try and get him to cut them deals or do stuff for them. he will immediately go back and scream by himself in the freezer after a difficult customer interaction. has cried silently in the freezer after food got in his hair. (x reader) leon always smells like american crew hair pomade, and always showers himself in cologne on shifts he knows he's working with you. you smiled at him one time in the middle of a rush and he had to sit on the curb to collect himself. leon has a horrible tendency to get distracted whenever you're in his general vicinity, and will completely ignore customers whenever you walk by with literal hearts in his eyes. he's one of the fastest people to make a move, mostly because he lacks any form of subtlety. he always offers to drive you home, always offers to take you out to dinner after work like you already don't work in food service, and always keeps something in his bag for you. he loves to lowkey fuck with you on shifts, like putting an ice cube down your shirt to make you pay attention to him. jill valentine (hostess):

another og worker, and the most no-nonsense of them all, especially with customers. if the wait time is thirty minutes, then you're waiting thirty goddamn minutes. she does not care who you supposedly know. she has gotten a couple writeups for visibly rolling her eyes when large parties come in without a reservation. jill demands a break every thirty minutes to sit with chris on the curb while he smokes a cigarette. she calls it her mental health breaks.

pointedly does not listen to leon when he asks her to stop seating people in her section. her favourite past-time is to seat all the old women obsessed with him at his tables to watch him flounder. also gives leon's number out to people who try and hit on her at the job. she's also the only person who can scare the owner, so jill gets away with a lot more than most people. her and carlos often hang out after shifts to drink beer and play pool. her and claire have regular girls nights where jill's convinced into facemasks and terrible movies that only have a one star rating on whatever pirated movie website claire pays for. (x reader) every attempt you make to ask her on a date goes completely over her head. it's only at chris' intervention that she finally gets the hint and takes you out to dinner. she ends up having her own shelf of stuff at your apartment within a week, and she's more than happy to drive you to work everyday. if you have a pet, prepare for jill to come over to spoil it rotten and feign ignorance when you confront her about it. another victim of the 'takes extra long to get ready on shifts you work together'. she knows you like her arms, so she's wearing short sleeves or tanks whenever she has the opportunity, and silently preens in your attention. carlos, (line cook):

without a doubt, the line cooks are the vibe bringers of the restaurant. carlos always takes a hit off his dab pen before coming in, because he claims it makes his cooking taste better. he always gives food to the female servers at any given opportunity, and pretends to not know what the male servers are talking about when they bring it up. (is the reason for 90% of the memos regarding workplace behaviour).

carlos always smells like old spice and food, and there is almost nothing that could break his good mood during a shift. he really is just happy to be there. he's very particular on how the freezer is organized, but loved to label the items wrong to piss off the others (spinch). his mother taught him how to cook, so he has a dedicated dish named after her. carlos always comps her meals when she comes in and doesn't tell anybody about it.

as for the other employees, carlos torments them. he loves to play his own music in the kitchen but has a wildly inappropriate taste for work music. chris banned him from the speaker officially after only playing doja cat for three hours. however, him and luis love to carpool and play brazilian funk with all the windows rolled down at max volume. those two are not allowed to work together too much. he also has a mobile game rivalry with leon, so anytime carlos is missing from the kitchen, you'll find him in the bathroom on his phone. just follow the shitty iphone game music.

(x reader) in all honesty, carlos is the man that's hooked up with the most employees. the mans charm is undeniable. but he has a particular soft spot when it comes to you-- you get to taste-test every dish, there's always a nice cold glass of water waiting for you, and carlos will take the fall for every fuckup at your table. he'll introduce you to his mom when she comes in, but is secretly terrified at how well the two of you get along. don't even get him started on bringing his siblings into the place, he would never hear the end of it. carlos received another memo after engaging in too much pda at work after the two of you got together.

claire redfield (waitress):

one of the main reasons for all the positive google reviews. it's not that she's naturally a super bubbly person, but claire knows how to turn it on and off when her shift starts. jill puts most of the families in her section since claire has a natural gift with kids. however, she is extremely biased when it comes to the food. her face always tells you exactly what she thinks of a dish.

since chris is always within eyesight of her, whenever difficult customers give her problems, she loves to sic chris on them. even just having him stand behind her is enough to give her leverage over someone trying to haggle on a bill. and with carlos' willingness to give food to pretty girls, she never goes hungry during a shift. the girl has her whole shift figured out on a system. she also knows exactly when the lull in service is going to be so she can take extended bathroom breaks.

out of everyone, she's the one to organize after-work hangouts, whether by putting gentle reminders into the group chat, or straight up bullying people to come (ie. jill). everyone always knows when she pulls up from the sound of her engine, but she refuses to let anyone on it. especially luis or leon, for insurance reasons.

(x reader) this girl has the uncanny ability to know what you need, and when you need it. forgot an iced tea for table 20? it's already in her hand on the way. it's her nice little way of showing what a good girlfriend she would be, that she can anticipate your needs. for every group hangout, you are the first person she texts and the primary benefactor of the tips she makes. claire is a no bullshit kind of woman, and when she wants you, you will know. she'll always ask you to hang out, always compliment how you look, tell you constantly how good you are at your job. maybe she'll let you ride behind her on the motorcycle just for the excuse of having your arms around your waist, and does that hot thing where she rubs your arms with her thumb at red lights.

rebecca chambers (head waitress):

dear old rebecca, truly the glue holding everything together. she's incredibly sweet to customers, and to most of the employees. the only reason the floor runs properly is her by the book attitude and highly perceptive personality. nothing is getting by rebecca. she's leon's number two nemesis for being able to drink on the job, and chris' number one nemesis for smoking outside. this woman has the nose of a bloodhound when someone is about to do something stupid.

despite her appearance, everyone is afraid to make her angry. she's lost her shit a total of one time, but it was enough for everyone to be on their best behaviour. she does have a tendency to make passive aggressive comments with such a sickly sweet smile on her face, that you won't even realize she insulted you until long after she's walked away.

least favourite part of the job? she is a hit with old men. they can never leave her alone. second least favourite part? finding ways to sneak vitamins into certain employees food so they can live to see another day. the way that some of the others operate is enough to give her grey hairs.

(x reader) rebecca is intelligent and ambitious, and more than willing to make sacrifices when it comes to you. she's more than happy to take the fall on a screwup if it gets you out of it, wanting nothing more than your smile in return. her main tactic of getting to know you is inviting you over to watch movies, inconspicuously of course, so she can ask you questions over the whole thing. overall, she's an acts of service girl, but is much more subtle about it than claire is. you need a meal prep plan? she's your woman. she wants nothing more than to take care of you, to make your life as easygoing as possible. but the true way to her heart is any form of baked goods. if you make a habit of bringing her pastries before a shift, she's putty in your hands.

ada wong, (head chef):

this woman, god help her, has the hardest job out of them all. not only does she have to babysit her two line cooks, but she's also responsible for cleaning up all the fuckups the waitstaff make. her saving grace is the fact that everyone else is terrified of her, creating a wide berth every time she picks up a knife. everyone can always hear her scolding carlos in the kitchen, who just brushes it off with a laugh.

despite the chaos of a kitchen, ada has the impeccable ability to never get food on herself. even after the dinner rush there is not a single hair out of place, looking just as perfect as when she started. every ingredient is measured precisely, every fda standard met and upheld-- pretty much the counterforce to carlos and luis. secretly, she loves when carlos has control of the speaker, but she would rather die than admit it.

the second an overcomplicated modification comes in, the temperature of the kitchen immediately drops. why the hell does she pore over a menu just for some middle-aged man to think he knows better than her? despite her no-nonsense attitude, she does secretly love fucking with leon. only luis knows about her secret tinder account that she catfished leon on with some fake woman in romania.

(x reader) ada is a woman in tune with herself, in tune with what and who she wants. the second she gets attached, she will display clear favouritism. every new recipe she tries is given to you for taste-testing, claiming that you will always give her the truth. it's a lie, she just like seeing the grin on your face when you enjoy it. if anyone asks her about it, she will vehemently deny it, claiming that you're the only one competent enough at your job. her asking you out is more of a demand than it is a question: this place, this time, wear that dress you know i like. she's not huge fan of pda at the workplace, but she'll always give you that look that screams, just wait until i get my hands on you later.

luis sera (line cook):

this man does not operate on a recipe, he operates on la pasion. really, it just means the foods always a tad spicier than it should be. he also sings obnoxiously loud in the kitchen, to the point that patrons can hear it if they're seated close enough. this man obeys ada for the most part, but he's honestly never touched a measuring cup in his life. he'll stop pouring when his ancestors tell him to stop pouring. however he has the uncanny ability to know exactly when meat is within three degrees of whatever temp they need it cooked to.

the waitstaff either love him or hate him. luis playfully flirts with everyone in his line of sight. who could blame him? he's stuck in a kitchen all day and everyone at this restaurant is unbearably attractive. mostly, he just likes seeing their reactions. leon adamantly begs claire to fetch his plates from the kitchen for him, because luis calls him prince charming every time, and leon hates it.

there's a rumour going around that he got drunk after a shift and made out with another employee, but no one knows who it is. there's a restaurant-wide betting pool on potential victims. also, since luis is the only person who knows about the catfish incident, he loves to ask leon innocuous question while feigning innocence about the whole thing. he's just really invested in his love life, he swears.

(x reader) if you think the flirting is bad towards leon, just wait until he catches an eyeful of you. it is a nonstop barrage of witty compliments, offers to go dancing (or clubbing), and pick-up lines that were definitely picked up off the internet. he's a suave guy, don't get me wrong, but he most definitely gets too many of his ideas from old romance novels. at some point he gives up, telling you straight that he wants to take you out, for reals, and cook you a nice home-cooked meal. maybe some wine. maybe more, if you'll let him. luis is another person who displays clear favouritism, and tries to convince ada into naming a dish after you. it has a horribly cheesy name, but it tastes wonderful and he loves shooting you a wink every time you see him making it (he always makes that dish more carefully than any of the others).

wesker (manager):

this man bought the damn place in a last ditch attempt to save himself from bankruptcy, and unknowingly entangled himself into the lives of the dumbest twenty year olds he's ever met in his life. the only person that he kind of tolerates is ada, because she runs that kitchen like it's the military, and he can respect how batshit terrifying she is. he has a particular vendetta against chris for reasons he can't name, but since chris brings in a lot of money, he can't really refuse. he mostly gets that frustration out by pinning things on chris that leon most definitely did.

he's rarely seen on the actual floor, usually just hanging in the back on the computer doing whatever the fuck he does. (he's playing farmville, but no one knows it's him because of a pseudonym. he also does not know how to turn the music off so if you stand at the right position outside the door you can hear it.)

when he is seen out on the floor, he's wearing the most obnoxious sunglasses and leather jacket known to man, and stalks around the bar to watch for mistakes. you know you fucked up around wesker when there's a sneer on his face. the place almost got robbed once, and wesker threw a punch so fast that everyone stopped trying to piss him off after that.

(x reader) truthfully, he doesn't act too much different around you. it takes months to catch onto the little quirks that show his softness-- just a slight ease in his eyebrow, a softer pitch when addressing you directly. he'll still chew you out for mistakes, but he forgets about it long before he'll let anyone else slide. if things did eventually progress between the two of you, that manager's office is staying locked.

thank y'all for reading! this ended up being way longer than i thought it was going to be lol.

[capquinn]

Dad Quinn on his birthday with bug when she was still a tiny little baby 🥹🥹

Quinn’s birthday was quiet that year, nothing grand or over the top — just the way he wanted it. It was his first birthday as a dad, and Bug was nearing seven months old, a chubby-cheeked little bundle who didn’t understand the concept of birthdays but had a way of making everything feel like a celebration anyway.

The day started early, as most days with a baby did. Bug’s cheerful babbles drifted through the baby monitor before the sun had fully risen, and Quinn, ever the hands-on dad, was already on his feet, padding down the hallway to scoop her out of the crib before you even had a chance to nudge him. When he returned, Bug was tucked against his chest, her tiny fists clutching at his shirt like it was her lifeline.

“She said happy birthday,” Quinn teased, his voice low and soft as he climbed back into bed, Bug grinning as if she was in on the joke.

Breakfast was a cosy mess, the kitchen filled with the smell of pancakes and the soundtrack of Bug’s happy squeals. She sat in her highchair, her little feet kicking rhythmically against the tray as she tried to grab at the mashed banana spooned into a bowl. Quinn sat beside her, wiping stray bits from her cheeks with the corner of her bib. She rewarded him with a gummy, toothless smile that made him melt on the spot.

“She’s the best gift,” he said, leaning down to kiss her soft forehead, his expression caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. “Nothing’s ever going to top this.”

The rest of the day was slow and simple, filled with all the small moments that made life feel full. A late-morning walk found the three of you ambling around the neighbourhood with Bug bundled in her stroller, her tiny head swivelling at every bird chirp and rustle of leaves. Quinn’s hand never left the stroller handle, his thumb brushing over the edge like he was keeping her tethered to him somehow.

After lunch, Bug’s nap became the unexpected highlight of the day. You found her sprawled across Quinn’s chest on the couch, her chubby hands fisted loosely in his shirt as her little body rose and fell with each of his deep, steady breaths. He was half-asleep himself, his arm wrapped protectively around her back, and you couldn’t help but snap a picture. The two of them, so at peace, filled the room with a quiet kind of magic.

By the time dinner rolled around, the house buzzed with the warmth only family could bring. Quinn’s parents had flown in just for the occasion, their voices brimming with love as they passed Bug between them. She was dressed in a onesie that read Daddy’s Little Star — a surprise from his parents. Quinn pretended to scoff at the sentimentality, but the way his eyes kept drifting to her, pride softening his features, said otherwise.

Dinner was lively, filled with the kind of conversation that danced effortlessly between teasing and nostalgia. Bug, strapped into her highchair at the head of the table like the true star she was, seemed to command the room. Her grandparents showered her with attention, clapping and cooing at every babble and giggle. Quinn kept shaking his head, biting back a grin when his dad held up a spoon and narrated an imaginary flight path toward Bug’s open mouth.

“Look at her go,” his mom said, laughing as Bug grabbed a softened piece of sweet potato and promptly missed her mouth.

Quinn grinned wider, reaching out to gently guide her hand. “Gonna be a big eater, huh, Bug?”

After plates were cleared, Quinn's phone buzzed with an incoming call. Jack and Luke’s pixelated faces lit up the screen, and the kitchen echoed with their loud, overlapping voices. “Happy birthday, old man!” Jack jeered, while Luke added, “should we start shopping for walkers yet?”

Quinn rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at his lips. Bug babbled loudly, as if determined to join the conversation, and when her chubby hands started slapping the table in excitement, both uncles erupted in mock cheers.

“Hi, Bug!” Luke shouted, giving a little wave through the screen, and Quinn chuckled, pulling her onto his lap to give her a better view.

The highlight of the evening came with the cake. You carried it out carefully, candles flickering as the room dimmed. Ellen led the chorus of “Happy Birthday,” her voice a touch wobbly with emotion, while Bug’s wide eyes fixated on the dancing flames.

The second the cake hit the table, Bug reached out, her tiny fingers aiming squarely for the frosting.

“Easy, Buggy,” Quinn said, laughing as he gently redirected her. But the second he leaned back, she went for it again, plunging her fingers right into the side of the cake.

“Of course,” he muttered, shaking his head as laughter rippled through the room.

He wiped her tiny hands with a napkin, only for Bug to giggle, her wide eyes sparkling with mischief. Before he could react, she leaned in with that sweet, clumsy determination only babies have — her little mouth open in her version of a kiss. She planted it right on his cheek, smearing frosting everywhere in the process.

“Oh, Bug!” he laughed, his voice warm and full of love as he pulled back slightly, just enough to see the mess she’d made. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he joked, planting a playful kiss on her sticky fingers.

Later, after the chaos of dessert and the call from his brothers — both loud and full of teasing — he found himself in Bug’s nursery, rocking her gently in his arms. The house was quiet now, save for the soft hum of her white noise machine, and he just stood there for a moment, swaying slowly, her head nestled against his chest.

It was then that Quinn realised how much his world had shifted. His birthday wasn’t about marking another year of his life anymore — it was about this life he was building, about the family he got to come home to. Bug didn’t care that it was his birthday. She just cared that he was there, holding her, steady and warm. And really, that’s all he cared about, too.

When he finally joined you on the couch, you leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder. “Good birthday?” you asked, your voice low, the glow of the evening still lingering.

He kissed the top of your head, his hand resting on your thigh as Bug’s baby monitor sat quietly on the table.

“Best one yet,” he murmured, his voice full of quiet gratitude. “Couldn’t have asked for more.”

[rorylovesangst]

A Burning Hill

construction worker/underground fighter simon riley x waitress

mood board

song of the chapter is Motion Sickness by Phoebe Bridgers

tws: trauma, child abuse, blue getting tipsy

previous chapter → chapter 6

word count: 6.4k

You’re already late to Friendsgiving.

The stuffing burned. You’d been in the shower, washing away the sweat and things you wish to forget, the scalding water pelting the burn on your chest. It had started to look better—less red, less bitter. It had begun to forgive you—but it still throbbed, a dull ache that flared with every fiery drop and unpredicted movement. The acrid smell of smoke didn’t hit you until it clawed its way under the bathroom door.

Dripping wet and wrapped in a threadbare towel, you bolted to the kitchen, your feet thwacking against the floor. Smoke slithered from the oven’s withered edges, curling upward with a mind of its own, eager to consume everything in its path.

It wasn’t the first time smoke had chased you.

Once, when you were young, your father burned a pizza in the oven. He’d left you alone in the house, small and helpless, while he wandered off somewhere. When the smoke crept through the screen door, you stumbled outside, coughing, your tiny lungs unable to fight the gray fingers curling through the trees and clinging to the sky. You called for him, begged him to save you with fragmented warbles and a quivering chin.

When he found you, grimy and gasping, he didn’t hold you or brush the soot from your cheeks. He smacked you. Open-palmed. Swift. Stinging.

You wanted to cry then, to let the tears fall so maybe he’d feel guilty, maybe he’d see you as something fragile and worth protecting. But you couldn’t. You didn’t. And he didn’t.

He waved at the smoke pouring from the house and made you sleep outside that night, the sky vast and cold above you, its stars nothing but indifferent pinpricks in the dark. You tried praying to a God above, looking up at the stars with whispers you hoped would travel far enough to reach someone, something. No answer.

Now, standing in front of your smoking oven, it’s hard to tell if the smell filling your nose is coming from the burning food or memories that are embedded in your bones, licking at the marrow and sucking off the meat. The darkness of that smoke feels like it never really let go. It's stuck in your hair and the creases of your palms, stuck in your throat and everywhere you’ve tried to belong.

You yank open the oven door, coughing as the heat prickles your face, and pull the tray out with jittery hands. The stuffing is ruined, blackened and crumbled. Its harsh scent stings your eyes.

So, you start over.

By the time the stuffing is in the oven again, you’re in front of your bathroom mirror, your chest heaving from the effort. The burn on your chest screams at you with every breath, though it’s quieter now than it was. It looks less like a wound and more like a reminder, its edges faded but still aching.

Your neck, however, refuses to be quiet, refuses to let you forget it's there. Deep bruises bloom across your skin, sickly hues of green and purple that bleed through makeup no matter how many layers you cake on. Each attempt to cover them is a losing battle that leaves you frustrated. Finally, you give up and scrub your neck clean, throwing the foundation-streaked cloth into the sink.

You dig through your drawer, pulling out an old, itchy turtleneck. It’s a hay-colored sweater, rough and coarse against your skin. The threads scratch at the raw patches on your chest and cling to your neck You pull at the collar, desperate for it to give you some air. It doesn’t help. It never does.

Now, you’re at Olive’s door. Voices hum through the walls, muffled but warm, and her laugh rings out above them. Lively. Ludic. Your stomach churns, nerves buzzing as your fingers twitch in your mittens. A tic builds in your throat—a compulsive hum you can’t quite swallow. Your head jerks slightly to the left, the movement sending a sharp sting through your chest and neck. It almost makes you whine, but you press your lips together and try to push the pain somewhere else.

“Shit,” you whisper, pressing a hand against the sweater’s collar, the coarse fabric adding insult to injury. The tic comes again, this time with a sharp hum that escapes your lips. You glance down at the tray balancing precariously in your other hand and force yourself to breathe.

The burn on your chest throbs. Your head jerks again. You knock twice, sharp and quick, before you can change your mind.

The door swings open almost immediately, the warmth of the room spilling out into the gelid night. It's so warm that you feel like you are glowing, incandescent and hot to the touch. Olive stands there, her hair lit like a halo by the soft light of her home.

“Finally!” she sighs, her voice dreamy. Effortless. She takes one look at you and snatches the tray from your hands before you can even open your mouth. The sweat pooling in your palms is luckily shielded by your mittens, stopping the tray from slipping from your hands.

“Hi. Sorry I’m late—I burned the stuffing, and then I had to—”

“It’s fine.” She cuts you off with an airy laugh, waving away your words. You can see them dissipating in the air with your foggy breath. “You’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

Her hand lands on your shoulder as she guides you inside, the gesture so casual and warm that it catches you off guard. The room is small but alive, people cramp themselves onto the couch, elbow to elbow, knee to knee. Glasses clink, laughter spills over the hum of conversation, and the air smells of rosemary and wine. Price is wrapped in Olives checkered apron, bent halfway in the oven with a baster in hand. He peeks over his shoulder and smiles. It’s cheeky, glinting against the darkness of his bushy mutton chops.  

“Hey Blue,” He says, head back in the oven, Sylvia Plath style. That wouldn’t work though, his shoulders are too big to fit into the small thing.

The word "Hi" spills from your lips like syrup—thick, sticky, and sluggish, clinging to the air before it dissipates into the space between you and the world you’ve never quite felt part of. The house around you pulses with an unfamiliar energy, like the hum of a broken lightbulb flickering in the corner of a room that is too full of ghosts. Olive’s decorations are too much, and yet not enough, a glittering cascade of beauty that threatens to swallow you whole. Golden garlands twinkle across the dining room ceiling, casting delicate shadows that dance like ghosts on the walls, frozen sunlight trapped in a world that has already moved on.

You shrug off your coat and drape it over the hook by the door, fingers brushing the fabric as though it were a lifeline. You fold your arms around yourself, a reflex, like gathering the shards of something you didn’t know had cracked. It’s not to shield yourself from Olive or Price—they are familiar, constants in a place that doesn’t belong to you. No, it’s the strangers that linger, their laughter spilling like wine into a glass already full, unfamiliar faces that hang in the air like fog, dense and suffocating, threatening to smother you in their warmth.

Across the room, Johnny catches your eye. His mohawk juts up like a beacon, daring the world to notice. His body sprawls across the leather couch, limbs loose and easy, the fabric creaking under him like an old door about to fall off its hinges. And then, just like that, his gaze locks with yours, sharp and unrelenting, and you feel it—the weight of him—like a stone dropped into the depths of an otherwise still pond. A grin splits his face, jagged and crooked, a flash of something dark and teasing. The leather groans beneath him, and your nerves tighten, an invisible string pulling taut in your chest. You turn away, seeking refuge in the warm familiarity of Olive’s face, her smile a flicker of light in the haze of strangers.

Olive notices, of course, her eyes finding yours as she slices through the conversation like a breath of fresh air. "Okay, Blue," she says, her voice soft but firm, cutting through the knot in your throat. "You’re helping me with the mac and cheese."

You exhale, a sigh that feels like a storm passing. You nod, grateful for the distraction, the simple task of grating cheese a small act of survival, of doing something normal in a room full of things that make you feel like you don’t belong. Your hand aches with the motion, but it’s a welcome pain, the rhythm of it grounding you in a way that nothing else can.

"Doesn’t he look so snazzy in my apron?" Olive teases, and you glance up just in time to see Price flitting around the kitchen, his movements fluid, almost unrecognizable in the apron that clings to him like a strange second skin.

A laugh slips out of you, jagged and raw, a sound that feels foreign in your throat. It cracks as it leaves your lips, a brief, fragile thing that vanishes before it can settle. You hate how it sounds—forced, brittle—but it’s all you can offer.

Price grins, his deep, rumbling laugh shaking the walls, filling the room with its warmth. "It’s making me a better cook than you."

"Oh, you wish," Olive retorts, her voice light, teasing, but there’s a softness there too, a warmth that clings to her words like the memory of summer rain. As she leans past him to stir the pot, Price brushes a hand over her shoulder, a touch that is almost absent, but meaningful nonetheless.

Their banter fills the room, a background hum that makes you feel like you’re on the edge of something you can’t quite reach. And then, Olive’s eyes flicker toward you, a mischievous gleam in them.

"What?" you mumble, the grater scraping against the block of cheese, the sound steady and metered like a clock ticking in the silence.

"Here comes Johnny," she murmurs, her half-smile betraying the amusement that you don’t quite share.

You glance over your shoulder. There he is—Johnny—moving toward you with the lazy confidence of a predator, eyes narrowing as he inches closer. His grin is wide, calculated, a mask he wears like armor to disarm. He’s too close now, his presence heavy, pressing against the air like a stormfront moving in. You feel the heat of his breath as it ghosts along the side of your neck, and your stomach churns, a cold knot tightening as he leans in, his voice a velvet slither.

"Hey, bonnie," he drawls, the words curling around you, soft and dangerous, like smoke that seeps into your lungs and lingers.

You want to shrink away, to vanish into the shadows of the kitchen, but you don’t. You stand there, waiting, caught in the pull of something you can’t name, your heart pounding like the beat of a drum you didn’t choose to hear.

"Hi," you manage, the word barely a whisper, fragile as a breath lost in the turbulent hum of the kitchen. It fades almost immediately, swallowed by the clatter of plates and pots, the heat of the stove, the sizzle of oil in the pan. Your fingers, slick with tension, glide the grater down the block of cheese with an intensity that almost betrays you. The blade kisses the surface too close to your skin, a faint, electric reminder of how easily things can go wrong.

“Get out of the kitchen,” Olive commands sharply, her brow lifted in a maternal arch, the kind of look that says she knows everything—what you’re thinking, what you’re hiding. “I know you’re trying to sneak a bite of something.”

“I’m not sneakin’ anything!” Johnny protests, his voice rising, honeyed and teasing, a mock offense that falls like a soft sigh through the air. The sound crawls along your spine, a warm shiver igniting across your shoulders, goosebumps blooming like stars across the expanse of your skin.

“Don’t give in, ‘Liv,” Price calls from the pantry, his voice low, thick with amusement, muffled by the rustle of cans and spices. “He’s a scavenger. He’s not getting shit.”

Johnny laughs—a light, airy scoff that slips through the room like smoke, dissolving into the space, leaving behind only the echo of something faint, elusive. He steps closer, his presence a gravity you can’t escape, pulling the air tight around you. “I jest wanted to introduce meself,” he says, his voice now lower, darker, like a velvet cloud pressing down on your chest. It lingers, suffocating, until his gaze settles on you—a quiet, insistent weight. His eyes lock with yours, a slow, searing pressure that promises to pin you in place, hold you until you can no longer move, speak, or breathe.

"Name’s Johnny."

You force a smile, one that barely skims the surface of your lips, like a cracked porcelain mask. It’s more a reflex than anything else—automatic, stiff, lacking any trace of warmth. “Blue,” you murmur, stealing a glance at him, just long enough to see the sharp edge of his gaze cut through the air, the flicker of something sharp—dangerous—in the depths of his eyes. Your attention snaps back to the cheese, the task of grating a flimsy excuse to escape the magnetic pull of his stare.

“From the diner. I remember.” His voice, smooth as silk, slides around you, weaving through the quiet spaces like a thread binding your senses to him. The weight of his gaze on you is almost tactile, like a slow burn against your skin. It presses through the veil of your peripheral vision, making your pulse stutter, each throb loud in your ears as it rushes to your throat.

“Olive!” Price calls from the pantry again, his voice an abrupt slice through the thick tension, breaking the spell. “Y’got any idea where the oregano is?”

Olive mutters something unintelligible under her breath, stomping toward the pantry, leaving you alone with Johnny. The silence left in her wake is heavy, like a storm about to break. The distance between you both shrinks, as if the air itself tightens, presses in.

“How’s the burn, lass?” His question is a sudden gust of wind, sharp and biting, cutting through the heat and making the hairs on your neck stand at attention. It stirs something deep inside you, makes your chest tighten and your breath catch, though you can’t quite place why. You grip the grater harder, your palm slick with sweat that betrays you, a signal of just how much he rattles you.

“Uh—it’s better. Fine, really,” you answer, your voice smaller than you want it to be, swallowed by the weight of his unwavering gaze. You wish you could control the way your heart starts to race, the way the air feels thicker, harder to breathe the longer he stands there. His gaze doesn’t waver, though it remains casual, deceptively so, like a predator pretending indifference while waiting for the slightest movement, the smallest crack in your composure.

“Good.” He draws the word out, savoring it, letting it linger between you like the softest of threats. And even though his tone remains deceptively easy, you know—without a doubt—that his eyes are waiting for you to falter. To show him something you’ve kept hidden, something you can’t afford to let slip.

Before he can speak again, the door creaks open, the sound slicing through the stillness like a knife cutting through velvet. You don’t raise your eyes, but the chill that rushes in steals the warmth from the room, biting at your skin like an unwelcome guest. It lingers in the air, a stark reminder of the world beyond this little sanctuary of soft conversation and heat.

“I brought gifts,” Simon’s voice rolls in, smooth but carrying weight, the kind that demands attention like thunder rolling in the distance before the storm. You flinch—not outwardly, not enough for anyone to catch—but your hand stills mid-motion, hovering above the cheese as if his very presence has sent ripples through the calm.

When you finally glance up, he’s placing a bottle of red wine and a foil-wrapped dish onto the counter. The deep red of the wine catches the light, as if it holds the evening’s secrets within it. He’s dressed in dark jeans, sharp and unscathed, with a navy wool sweater that clings just enough to outline the muscle beneath, the shoulders broad like the horizon at dusk. Tattoos snake down his arms, curling like dark tendrils around his wrists, hidden art that only seems to emerge when he’s close, as though parts of him were always kept at bay.

His gaze locks with yours, and for a moment, the room feels too small to contain the weight of it. He smiles, his lips pulling back to reveal white teeth, the slight chapping of them speaking of cold nights and long drives. “You’re late,” Olive’s voice rings out with playful reproach, as she reaches for the tray with hands that know the rhythm of shared meals.

“I know, I know. Had to stop for wine. Long line,” Simon answers, the shrug of his shoulders dismissing the lateness like it’s nothing at all. His jacket slips off, revealing the familiar scabbed knuckles, each wound telling a story deeper than words. They’re raw, angry against the soft fabric of his shirt, as though they belong to someone who’s lived in the spaces between calm and chaos.

“Well, it’s a good brand, so I’ll forgive you,” Price chimes in, his voice warm and familiar as he uncorks the bottle, the sound sharp and final, like a sentence passed in a court of good taste.

“Nice apron, boss,” Simon says, his tone light but weighted with something more, something sharp that cuts through the air between you like a thread pulled taut.

“Pleasure of my wife,” Price quips, his hand steady as he pours the wine with a flourish, each gesture so practiced it feels like a performance. Every motion has purpose, as if he’s acting out a play where every guest is a character, and each gesture holds meaning.

Johnny grabs a fistful of cheese, stuffing it into his mouth before anyone can stop him, his grin wide and unrepentant.

“Hey! No dirty fingers in the food!” Olive snaps, swatting at him with a swift, playful flick. He laughs, stepping back in exaggerated shock, as if the moment were made for an audience only he can see.

The air shifts again, thickening with Simon’s presence as he leans in, his voice low and measured, a hum that vibrates against the very walls of the room. “Hi, Blue,” he murmurs, his head tilting just enough to catch your gaze, like a wolf who knows the hunt is close but won’t rush it.

“Hi,” you whisper, your grip tightening on the bowl as though it could hold the moment still, anchoring you to the room, to the space between you.

Olive reappears, her wine glass gleaming like a polished ruby in the dim light, the liquid inside swirling like blood in a vein. She steps into the room with the effortless grace of someone who’s long mastered the art of disappearing into the spaces they occupy. Her eyes flick between you and Simon, measuring the air between you two with the clinical precision of a seasoned chemist, knowing exactly when to introduce a new element, when to let it simmer.

Price greets her with a kiss to the crown of her head, a gesture that lands soft as rain on a tired roof. His hand gives her rear a playful tap, a reminder of old routines, of moments that don’t need words to linger. She rolls her eyes, the motion habitual, but even in that, there’s a flicker of something—amusement, maybe, or just the quiet contentment of a life too familiar to be anything else. She swallows down the wine, her throat moving with the smooth, deliberate motion of a cat licking its wounds in the sun.

“Thanks, sweetpea,” Olive purrs, tugging at the apron strings knotted at Price’s hips. There’s something intimate in the way her fingers dance around the fabric, a tether binding them together in this small, circumscribed world. As if their world, this little kitchen where time seems to pause, is the only one that matters.

Simon’s gaze sharpens when he asks, “Olive’s got you cooking?” His voice, calm and composed, lingers in the air, like a stone sinking slowly into still water. There’s weight in his presence, a subtle pressure that presses on the ribs, a quiet pull like the tide, always there, always moving beneath the surface.

“I want to,” you reply, shrugging as the words slip from your mouth, slippery and unformed, before you can weigh their cost. They feel like something you might have said years ago, when you still believed in the power of wanting. The truth, like a cold shadow, stirs quietly in the background.

Simon’s brow arches, and the pause between you thickens. His gaze lingers, a soft dissection, like the way sunlight pulls at the edges of things, revealing the cracks you’d rather keep hidden. You feel as if he's peeling back layers, layer by layer, until there's nothing left but the parts of you you'd prefer to forget.

When you finally meet his eyes, there’s a flicker of amusement—a quiet, knowing glint—as though he’s caught the lie you didn’t even know you were telling. A shadow of something darker flits across his expression, like a stormcloud crossing the moon. His eyes gleam with something unreadable, but you know—he sees right through it.

“Well, I’m surprised you’re not working,” he comments, his voice curling around the words with a softness that betrays a hidden edge, something faint but sharp, like the quiet hum of a cello in a room too silent to bear the sound.

“Olive made me take off,” you admit, eyes dropping to the counter, where your fingers twirl around the cold, unforgiving edges of the cheese grater. It’s a small gesture, but in it, the tension in your hands speaks louder than any words could.

“Probably for your own good,” Simon teases, the sip of wine punctuating his words like the final note of a suspended chord. The sound of it lingers in the air, thick and heavy, as though the room is holding its breath, waiting.

“I don’t mind.” Another lie. The words feel sharp against your throat, like broken glass. You push them out anyway, not letting them falter, though the weight of them feels like lead in your stomach. The thought of returning to your father’s house—his voice like a whip and his hands like steel—tightens your chest.

Simon’s eyes remain on you, his gaze quiet and unwavering. He doesn’t press, just holds the silence with you, giving you room to breathe in a space that feels smaller by the second. His lack of words is a concession, a gift of sorts, the kind of offer you can’t return.

Olive interrupts the moment, her voice light as a summer breeze. She holds up two glasses of wine, like a magician pulling rabbits from a hat, and doesn’t wait for your response. The glass she presses into your hand is cold, smooth against your palm, and the liquid inside feels like something forbidden as it slips past your lips—rich, tart, like a balm to the wound you’re too tired to care for.

“Good, right?” Olive teases, her voice like a bell, sharp and light, as she tilts her glass toward yours in an exaggerated mock-toast.

You hum in agreement, focusing on the way the wine dances down your throat, its warmth settling in your chest like a fire too low to burn. It's smooth, numbing, the kind of comfort that doesn’t ask too many questions, just offers its presence—an unspoken agreement between you and the night.

And for a moment, the room feels just a little bit smaller, the edges a little more forgiving.

“Surprised Price didn’t pick this out,” Simon jokes, his eyes flicking toward the other man, who’s engrossed in the turkey carving ritual, every movement deliberate and reverent, like a priest at the altar, cleaving into the flesh of the bird with devotion.

“Price would pick boxed wine if I let him,” Olive quips back, a playful fire in her glare aimed at her husband, but softened by the warmth of affection.

The kitchen hums around you, the voices and laughter flowing like honey, sweet but thick, and somehow sticky. Yet, you feel distant from it all, your focus slipping through the cracks of the moment like sand slipping from your clenched fist. Johnny’s laugh, loud and brash, rips through the air, filling the space like a storm cloud bursting with rain. Simon’s presence beside you is a weight—heavy, suffocating—as if gravity itself has chosen to rest on your bones, a force that tugs at your very center. You wish you could sink into the floorboards, disappear into the seams of the house like a whisper that no one remembers.

Ten minutes pass, though time feels as though it’s dragging its feet, unwilling to hurry. The turkey emerges from the oven, golden skin shimmering like a prize, gleaming in the artificial light. It’s a spectacle, untouched by the hands of real life, a thing that could only exist in the pages of a catalog—perfect, polished, out of reach. It sits there, a symbol of a life you could never own, no matter how many hours you spent chasing the illusion of it.

Olive tugs you into your seat, pulling you closer with a gentleness that feels foreign. Johnny takes the place beside you, as though slotted in place, a man-sized puzzle piece. Across the table, Simon settles into his chair, leaning back, drink in hand, his fingers tracing patterns along the glass’s rim as if the table itself were an ancient artifact—something he’s studying, examining, perhaps deciding whether it’s worth his attention.

The conversation swirls around you like wind through a field of tall grass, all clinking glasses and overlapping voices. The golden garland above seems to glow with a light that is too perfect, like halos that should belong to angels but somehow rest on mortal heads. It makes the room feel unreal, as though the whole thing could dissolve like mist if you looked away too long. You chew your food with the precision of someone on autopilot—turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes—filling the empty spaces with tasteless bites. You nod along, but the words are like echoes, bouncing off your skull and fading before they can register.

Johnny’s voice cuts through, jagged and loud, like a knife scraping the edge of a stone. “So, Blue,” he says, the name falling from his lips with the sharpness of a saw’s edge. “How d’you know Olive?”

You don’t want to look up. You don’t want to see the expectant faces around you. So, you keep your gaze fixed on your plate, hoping the food might swallow you whole or at least offer some kind of refuge from the scrutiny, the weight of their attention pressing in from all sides, suffocating.

“Coworkers, huh?” Johnny’s grin splits like a crack in ice, his voice a low hum as he leans in closer, the scent of beer pushing you back in your seat like a tide. “Never heard her mention you.”

“I keep to myself,” you reply, your voice calm, though you can feel the weight of his gaze pressing into your skin.

“Clearly,” he teases, fingers brushing against yours, a casual touch that feels far too intimate as he reaches for his glass.

Across the table, Simon clears his throat. It’s subtle, a soft rumble like distant thunder, just enough to make Johnny pause. Simon’s eyes are locked on him, unreadable, but there's a charge in his gaze, a quiet warning, sharp as a blade beneath calm water.

Johnny shrugs, muttering something under his breath, his grin slipping as he turns back to his plate.

You glance at Simon, and find him already watching you. His eyes are darker than you remember, the shadows beneath them deepening, the hollows of his face making his stare heavier, like gravity itself is pulling you in. The inflamed scabs on his knuckles catch your eye again, and the urge to ask about them rises, but you swallow it down, unsure if you want to know the answer.

After dinner, the house spins into a blur of motion. People scatter—some to the living room, others toward the kitchen for more wine—but you slip away unnoticed, the weight in your chest too much to carry. The bathroom is cool and quiet, a refuge where the soft hum of the ceiling fan is the only sound as you lock the door behind you, isolating yourself from the rest of the world.

You catch your reflection in the mirror, but quickly look away. Your sweater is hiked up, revealing the tight bandages weaving around your ribs, crisscrossing away from your one-size-too-big bra, and continuing its journey around your sternum. The burn throbs in defiance, swollen and achy, the pain sharper now than it was this morning.

You rummage through Olive’s medicine cabinet, fingers grazing over the cool bottles until one catches your eye—a prescription bottle. Antidepressants. You blink at the label, too dazed to focus on the name beneath it. Setting it aside, your fingers fumble as you search for something more…immediate. You find a bottle of Advil, pop a few pills, and swallow them with a handful of water from the tap, some dribbling down your chin. You wipe it away with your sleeve, the fabric damp but scratchy against your skin, a quiet reminder of the tension coiling around you.

A knock at the door startles you.

“Blue—” Simon’s voice filters through, low and calm, threading into the space. “It’s Riley. You alrigh’? Y’been in there a while. Jus’ worried.”

You’re moving before thought has time to settle, unlocking the door and swinging it open. His eyes widen in surprise, disbelief flashing across his face as you grasp the soft fabric of his sweater, tugging him inside. The wool is buttery under your fingers, a sensation both foreign and familiar, and for a brief, stolen moment, you pause—suspended in the unexpected warmth of him.

Simon doesn’t resist. He lets you pull him in, his presence filling the small space, the air thickening as you shut the door behind him. The bathroom seems impossibly smaller with him in it, his broad shoulders brushing the tiled walls like a storm cloud settling into the room. You gesture for him to sit on the toilet, and he does, his long legs folding awkwardly, pressed against yours in the tight space.

“My burn hurts,” you mumble, slumping back against the cool tiles, your voice heavy with exhaustion, each word thick as though the weight of everything pressing on you has turned your tongue to lead.

“It’s gonna do that,” Simon replies, his tone steady, firm, but not unkind—like a reminder of what you’ve neglected. “You neglected it.”

“No, like—like it really hurts,” you insist, your fingers fumbling at the hem of your sweater, as if searching for something to anchor you in a world that refuses to stand still. The words slip from your mouth, stuttering, as if they’re afraid to be spoken. “Just—just look.”

“Blue—” His voice softens, threading through the air like a fragile thread, one that could snap at the slightest tug. There’s something unspoken between you, an understanding so thin it could be made of mist, too delicate to be held in the light of day.

“Look!” The command escapes your lips with a desperation that feels almost primal, the kind of desperation that births from the deepest wells of need. You tug at the fabric of your sweater, intent on exposing the wound beneath, but Simon’s hand is there in an instant, a sudden force, wrapping around your wrist with the quiet strength of someone who’s borne witness to things that bleed in silence.

“What are you doin’?” His voice is soft now, but there’s an edge—a warning, like a hand hovering over the broken glass of a dream. His grip is firm, but there’s a tenderness to it, as if he knows the fragility of what you’re offering him.

“I’m showing you,” you say, the words tumbling out, raw and unpolished, as if they could never be anything but the exposed parts of you—the parts that were never meant to be shown. Your voice quivers, breaking open at the edges, offering him something you weren’t even sure was real.

“I don’t need to see it,” he says, his voice low, a quiet conviction wrapped around every syllable. “I believe you.”

His eyes, dark and unreadable, seem to understand more than you ever could say. You stand there, caught between the sharp breath that claws at your lungs and the steady rhythm of his hand, still holding your wrist, his thumb tracing circles along your skin. It’s a touch that holds you together, but threatens to tear you apart.

You don’t want to pull away. You can’t. The connection is a thin thread, fragile and necessary, like the last stitch holding a broken heart in place.

“You’re drunk,” he murmurs, and you feel his gaze soften, though it carries the weight of something deeper, something harder. There’s a flicker of understanding in his eyes, something you can’t place, but it settles in the air between you like dust on a forgotten shelf.

“No, I’m not,” you slur, but the words feel like ghosts slipping through your fingers, no more substantial than the fog that clings to your mind. You can’t even make your body obey you. You press your forehead to the cold tile wall, and sigh. “No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are.” He exhales, the sound heavy in the room, a sigh that’s both worn and weary. There’s a quiet compassion in it, as if he understands the quiet wars you’re fighting, even if they’re wars you can’t speak aloud. “C’mon. Let’s get you upstairs.”

Before you can protest, he’s guiding you out of the bathroom, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back. The touch is fleeting but steady, grounding you as the hallway spins, the walls bending and swaying in your peripheral vision. His hand at your back is light, but it grounds you—just enough to stop you from crumbling completely, though it feels like everything inside you might just shatter if you let it.

In the guest bedroom, Simon helps you sit on the edge of the bed, his touch gentle as he kneels, movements precise and measured, like someone accustomed to tending to broken things. His fingers work deftly to untie your shoes, each motion a small act of tenderness, as though he’s learned the quiet language of care for the tired and lost.

“You didn’t have to—” you start, but he silences you with a soft murmur, the sound barely more than a breath.

“Hush,” he says, his voice a low, insistent hum. A command wrapped in compassion. “Jus’ lay back.”

The room tilts, the world around you spinning slowly as the alcohol buzzes in your veins, a lullaby played by the distant hum of the night. Your head sinks into the pillow’s softness, as if gravity itself is pulling you down, coaxing you to surrender to the darkness. The blanket clings to your body like a last defense against the cold, a fragile shield against the gnawing chill of an empty room. But Simon tucks it higher, drawing it gently beneath your chin, his movements deliberate, as if wrapping you in something more than fabric—something almost sacred, something that feels like care.

His hand pauses, fingertips brushing the stray strand of hair from your forehead, the gesture small, almost imperceptible, but it lingers in the air between you, a silent vow. He looks at you, studying the fragile curve of your face, as though trying to capture it, memorize the way you’ve finally found stillness. You, who are never still, who wear your restlessness like a second skin.

Your breathing evens out, the soft rise and fall of your chest now a steady rhythm in the quiet room. It is the only sound, and it’s enough. Simon watches you, his gaze heavy with a quiet sadness, as if you’ve unraveled something in him that he can’t quite name. His silence speaks volumes, his stillness matching your own.

With a soft clink, he unbuckles his boots, the sound too loud in the otherwise empty room. The weight of his presence settles beside you, as though his body is a tether, pulling the world a little closer, a little heavier. The mattress creaks under his weight, a sound almost apologetic, as though it’s trying to make room for the tension in the air. His movements are slow, deliberate—every inch of him cautious, as if each breath he takes might shatter the fragile peace that exists in the space between you.

The moonlight spills through the window, soft and silvery, like the touch of a lover long gone. It paints your face in shadows, tracing the lines of your quiet surrender. Your lashes flutter, a delicate ripple beneath the stillness of sleep, as if the world outside doesn’t know you anymore. And for a moment, neither does Simon. You are nothing but a shape in the dim glow of the night, a broken melody that has yet to find rest.

He leans back against the headboard, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze locked on the ceiling as if it might hold some kind of answer. The silence stretches between you, thick and impenetrable, each of you trapped in your own quiet despair. But Simon doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t dare to break the fragile bond you’ve silently shared. The night grows longer, each passing minute a weight, a quiet void that neither of you can escape.

But sleep doesn’t come to him. It hovers just out of reach, a specter he can’t outrun, just like the darkness that lingers in the corners of the room. His gaze stays fixed, his body unmoving, as if he’s waiting for something to change—or perhaps just for the night to finally end.

some fluff if you squint since I made u wait so long for this

[bathroomforless]

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[24carathoney]

Dance For You | C.SC | 18+

Pairing: Seungcheol x FemReader

Wc: 2.5k

Genre: Smut // Established Relationship

Warnings: minors do not interact // reader gives a lap dance // pole dancing // grinding // unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it) // fingering // creampie // oral m. receiving // oral f. receiving // Cheol likes to be deepthroated // I will die on this hill // use of pet names like baby, love, gorgeous

Summary: Cheol finally has some time off work so you put together a little surprise for him.

You couldn't hide the grin on your face as the sun beamed through the curtains. It's 6 am and you were wide awake, unable to contain the excitement rushing through your being. Seungcheol was still sound asleep as he laid on his back with one arm under his pillow and the other thrown over your waist. You lifted his arm off of you so you could turn to face him, before running your fingers down his shoulder. You didn't miss the way he shuddered in his sleep and smiled. You placed a single kiss to his shoulder blade as your leg swooped over so you were straddling his waist. Your lips left soft kisses down his neck as he began to stir. You figured he was awake when his hand gripped onto your thigh.

“What are you doing?” He chuckled, voice low as he started to fully wake up. 

“Nothing.” You kissed his forehead as he slid your shorts up to rub along the curve of your ass. 

“Doesn't look like nothing.” A chuckle shook his body and you grinned. 

“Got things to do today. Don't want you to miss me too much.” You joked causing the man below you to roll his eyes before sticking out his bottom lip. “You shouldn't pout, your face could get stuck like that.” You smiled before kissing his lips.

“What exactly do you have to do today besides me?” He asked and you shook your head. 

“I'm gonna let that one slide but I can't tell you. It'll ruin the surprise!” You frowned, crossing your arms over your chest. His hands traveled up your body as his gaze darkened. 

“Who's pouting now?” You moved to get off of him but he quickly flipped the two of you so you were pinned. His lips pulled you into a heated kiss and you almost forgot you had something to do. You gently pushed him back before moving to slip out of bed and rush to the shower. You looked back and smiled at his frown from you pushing him off. 

“Don't worry. I'll make it up to you later. Promise.”

Your man finally had a couple days off so you decided to surprise him with something special. By the time you had stepped out of the shower he was awake and pouty. 

“Why’d you get out of bed? Stay.” You outstretched your arms and pulled him into your chest. 

“I'm sorry love, I really have some things I need to take care of today so I had to get a head start.” You told him while running your fingers through his hair. You planted a soft kiss on his lips and giggled as he tried to pull you back into bed. “Nu uh. It'll be worth it.”

“It better be since you're denying me cuddles.” He said, turning back over into bed. You quickly clicked the checkout prompt on your screen as the delivery date popped up. The time frame should match up to when he's out walking Kkuma. You jumped around a bit, proud that you haven't let your little secret slip. You grabbed your purse and keys before dashing out the door. You spent your entire morning getting everything you needed. Lingerie. Check. Fruit tray. Check. At home delivery? Check. By the time you got back home, the house was empty and you heard your phone ding. Unlocking your screen you're greeted with a text from Seungcheol. 

The guys wanted to meet up at the park for a little bit so I'm taking Kkuma with me. Wish I got to lay in bed with you a little longer but I'm curious about your little surprise. So I'll see you soon and I love you.

You smiled to yourself before a knock at the door pulled you from your screen. You ran to the door and let the delivery guy inside before leading him to your spare room. “Is this where you want it miss?”

“Yes. This is perfect.”

It only took an hour to get everything settled so when he was finished you signed everything and sent him on his way. Now you stood alone in the room staring at the pole in front of you. You just ordered a new furniture set so everything was where you wanted it to be. Last thing you needed was Seungcheol. You quickly freshened up and looked yourself over in the mirror. The red and black lingerie set you bought fit perfectly and molded into your body just right. You heard him keys at the door and threw on a robe before rushing to meet him. The first thing you did was jump into his arms, legs wrapped around his waist. He was caught off guard but held onto you all the same, letting you kiss him all over his face. 

“Baby I've been outside.” His laughter was music to your ears but those weren't the sounds you wanted from him. He set you on your feet before locking the door when his eyes finally took in what you had on. “What are you wearing?”

“Come find out. Sorry Kkuma, I'm stealing daddy for a minute.” You grabbed his hand and led him to the spare bedroom where his eyes lit up at the pole mounted in the ceiling. 

“What is all of this?” His voice quiet as his shyness broke the surface for a couple of seconds as you gently pushed against his shoulders until he plopped down in the chair. You easily straddled his legs, letting your hand move slowly to the knot keeping your robe closed. 

🎶I just wanna show you how much I appreciate you, yes

“Just a little something something.” Without breaking eye contact you let the silk fabric slip off your shoulders and onto the floor and he let out a low guttural groan. Seungcheol wasted no time grabbing onto your hips wanting you as close as possible. You took his hands and kissed his palm before dragging his hands over your breasts and hips. His pants instantly became way too tight as you allowed him to touch you. His eyes hazed over when you got off of him to turn on the speaker. 

Wanna show you how much I'm dedicated to you, yes🎶

You swayed your hips to the music as he felt the air leave his lungs. His eyes glued to your hips as you inched closer to the space between his legs, which he opened further on impulse. You stopped only a few inches from his touch as your hips moved in sync with the beat. Letting your hands run over your body you wondered what was going on in his head. His bottom lip was wedged between his teeth and you dragged your hand down his cheek before kissing him softly. He moved to pull you into his lap so you moved away back towards the pole, where you spun around with a smirk on your lips. 

🎶Tonight I'm gonna dance for you, oh-oh

Tonight I'm gonna dance for you, oh-oh🎶

You put the skills you learned in that pole dancing class to use as you spun around before getting on all fours and arching your back, putting your ass on full display for the man behind you.

“Fuck me…..”

“Oh I plan on it.” You grinned moving to sit in his lap once more, but this time your back was to his chest letting you twist your hips over his crotch with your head leaning on his shoulder. Wanting to feel him against you, you started to push down with a bit more weight as you  grind your hips down on his dick, pulling a sinful moan from him. His hands danced up your body and grabbed at the flesh of your breasts, grazing your hardened nipples as his fingers slid under the hem of the lace fabric. You placed your hand over his as he squeezed and pinched everywhere his hands went making you moan out every touch. The bra was becoming nothing but an obstacle in his way and a low growl bubbled in his throat.

“Take it off.” He demanded before turning your head and taking your lips in a kiss while you reached behind you to run your fingers through his hair. You repositioned so you were face to face as you slowly dragged your hand down the crease of your cleavage. You reached behind you to undo the bra clasp letting it fall between your bodies. He immediately latched onto one of your nipples, letting his tongue roll around the hardened bud. Your head lulled back as a soft moan left your lips as your body tingled each time he gave a harsh suck. Your arousal now dripped down your thighs as you clenched around nothing, wishing his cock was pounding in and out of you instead. But you wanted to make him feel good first. You were breathless as he pulled you flush against him, his erection now pressing into your throbbing clit. The lyrics of the song reach your ears while your other senses are clouded in lust.

🎶I'll be rockin' on my babe, rockin', rockin' on my babe

I'll be swirlin' on my babe, swirlin', swirlin' on you babe🎶

“Seungcheol……the song.” 

“Fuck the song.” You bit your lip as you stood to rid yourself of your panties but he grabbed your wrist to stop you before reaching for his phone. “Pose for me real fast.” You shook your head and a giggle rocked your being as you glanced over your shoulder, giving him a loving stare over your bare shoulder. You heard the shutter click before he tossed his phone and pulled you in by the back of your knees. “Remind me to have you do a photo shoot for me next time.”

You ground your hips into his lap as your make out session grew hotter and heavier. You kissed his jaw. Then his neck, as you helped him out of his shirt as before finding his lips again. His breath was hot against your lips and you felt your panties stick to your pussy. You smiled against his lips as you slid off his lap to the space between his legs without breaking eye contact. You undid his jeans letting his dick spring out of his boxers. His head fell back against the sofa as you dragged your tongue along the bulging vein up to his tip. 

“Fuck.” You took as much of him in your mouth as you could, bobbing your head while his fingers tangled in your hair, gently pushing you further down. You knew what he wanted. You relaxed your throat as you sunk down to the base with your nose pressed into his pelvis. “Fuck that's it.” You came up for air before you were back on him taking his cock as deep as it can go. His hips thrust upward, hitting the back of your throat and you fought the urge to gag. If you kept up he would cum soon and he didn't want that. No. He wanted to be inside you when he came. Get you nice a full. He stopped you and held your chin with his warm hand. “Come here gorgeous.” 

You stood to your feet and let him drag your soiled panties down your legs and he groaned at the sight. He hasn't even touched you and yet your pussy was drooling. Like you were enjoying this just as much as he was. Pulling you onto the couch he moved to stand over you, rubbing his cock along your slit teasingly. You jolt in anticipation each time he brushes against your clit and he smirks, enjoying your reaction.

“So fucking wet. Always so ready for me.” He muttered as he slowly pushed past your folds. Your moans became nothing short of pornographic as you welcomed the delicious stretch. His hips started to stroke into you and your eyes rolled back as you hooked your leg around his waist. His thrusts started to speed up to match his need to cum as he looked you in the eyes. He loved how fucked out you looked. It only fueled the desire in his soul even more. That hungry desire burning deep within your gut as he casually rearranged them. He felt a shiver run down his spine as you clenched around him, your body letting him know you were about to cum. “Is my pretty girl gonna cum? Cum all over my dick?”

“Yes! Yes..fuck Seungcheol….I'm so close.” The song was long over but all you could think about was the way this man was about to yank an orgasm from you. Between his thrusts and the hand between you you were about to explode.

“Then cum. It's the least I can do since you gave me such a good surprise.” He grunted as his words molded with the sinful sounds of your bodies slapping together. He left light kisses on your calf as he held your ankle over his shoulder while rubbing quick circles around your clit. The new angle had him hitting that one specific spot so deliciously. Each thrust sends you further and further in euphoria leaving you unable to form words. “Let me thank you properly for my surprise. I'm gonna fuck you full of my cum.”

You did your best to moan out as he continued to push into your tight hole. “Fill me up Seungcheol. Please, I want it.” 

“Of course you do. So fucking good. Fuck.” His praises morphed into a low groan as he felt your pussy start to flutter around him. You grabbed onto his wrist as you started to cum, clenched down hard to keep him from moving, but that wasn't enough to stop him as he fucked you through your high while chasing his own. With a couple more thrusts he stilled as he shot ropes of warm cum deep inside you, coating your walls in white.

“Oh my god.” You whined as he stared down at the white ring forming at the base of his dick before slowly pulling out of you, watching in satisfaction as his cum poured out of you. He leaned down over you to pepper a trail of kisses down your jaw and neck before lifting you up bridal style. He ran you a bath and the two of you washed each other of any cum and sweat residue left behind before slipping into bed. You laid there with your head on his chest as he rubbed your back, rubbing circles with his thumb when a thought crossed your mind.

"Damn I forgot the fruit tray!" You whined and his chest vibrated from his laughter at your sudden outburst.

“That's alright, we can enjoy it later. Thank you for today baby. It was amazing.” He kissed your forehead and you lifted your chin to kiss his lips instead. He parted your lips with his tongue and you slipped on top of him with ease. Before you could say anything his hands smoothed over your ass and you lined him up with your slit. He raised a curious eyebrow when you bit your lip. 

“You're insatiable.” You grinned before he pulled you down to the hilt and you threw your head back, leaning your hands on his chest. 

“Yeah but so are you.” You stated clenching around him more than ready for round two. 

[roosterforme]

Oouuu could you do a Drabble for Darlin and Hangman where he gets called to the hospital because Darlin had a bad migraine 🥹 totally fine if you don’t want to tho thank uuu bestie 🥹🫶🏻💗

Okay, but imagine if Darlin' was supposed to meet Jake somewhere and didn't show up on time. That would be so unlike her. He'd wait around for a few minutes and then start to call her. When it goes to voicemail five times in a row, he would really start to worry.

Jake hopped back in his truck, and headed for the apartment you shared with Kylie. Your last class ended hours ago, and you always answered or texted him back when he called. You even took your phone into the bathroom to listen to music when you showered. You should have been able to hear your ringtone.

As he knocked on the door, he could just tell something was wrong. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing at attention, and when Kylie opened the door, he was immediately looking past her into the apartment.

"Jake," Kylie greeted, delight lacing her voice and a smile adorning her face.

"Is she home?" he asked immediately, barely meeting her eyes before he was looking over her head again.

"Oh," she replied casually. "No, she's not."

Now he looked at her. "Do you know where she is?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed, taking a step closer to him. "She got taken to the hospital."

"The hospital?!" he asked, panic rising up inside him as his heart pounded distressinly fast. "What happened?" he damanded.

Kylie shrugged. "She's probably fine. She collapsed during of her classes."

"What the fuck?" He was nearly in hysterics, and Kylie was barely showing any emotion. "Why aren't you there with her? Why didn't anyone let me know about it?"

"Like I said, she's probably fine," she replied. "And you're probably not listed as an emergency contact."

"Well, I will be after this," he snarled, turning away and sprinting for his truck.

It wasn't a long drive to get to the hospital, but now he was concerned that they wouldn't give him any information. He really should be listed as one of your emergency contacts along with your parents. Technically, he lived closer to your campus than they did, and he could get to you faster in an event like this. But luckily, after someone scanned his driver's license and military ID, they gave him permission to see you.

When he tore into the room, sick to his stomach over the sight of you wearing a hospital gown with an IV in your arm, you looked up at him and smiled. "Jake. You found me."

"Darlin', what happend?" he asked softly, running his hand along your forehead and down your cheek. You were a little clammy, and you looked tired, but you seemed to be okay as you melted into his touch.

"I had a migraine, and I thought I could make it to the end of my class, but it got so bad, I fainted."

"Fuck," he gasped, sinking to his knees next to the bed and kissing your fingers. "You're okay now?"

You nodded. "Mostly. I have some bruised ribs from falling out of my seat awkwardly. They're giving me some pain medicine and fluids."

He sighed deeply, finally letting himself calm down. "I was worried when you never showed up to meet me. Do you want me to call your parents from your phone?"

You grimaced and pointed toward the small tray table. Your phone screen was shattered into a million tiny pieces. "The hospital called them for me. They're on their way. I would have called you, too, but I couldn't."

"I'll buy you a new phone tomorrow," he promised as your parents both walked into the room.

"Oh, good. Jake's already here," your mom said, heading right to your side. "Maybe you should make him an emergency contact, too. It took us forever to get here."

"We'll take care of that tomorrow, too," Jake whispered, kissing your fingers again.

[cherryspicest]

A better one

I'm here for you part 2 NMIXX Seol-Yoona x Male Reader 7k words

It's been months since I've written again and I had this perfect month to finish this. Sorry for the hiatus T-T

Everything felt like a dream, an inescapable thought, one that would be hard to forget. You cleaned as you shut the door, sweeped a few crumbs with a small pink towel. After placing the last washed dish on the tray, your phone vibrated, a notification popping up as the screen lit, then looking at it was your girlfriend’s message, apologizing for not visiting tonight. Your frustration seemed to lessen down, but it was still there. You decided not to reply and went straight to your room, laying down on the bed. Wonyoung’s kiss felt like it would change it all. The amount of thoughts consumed your mind, and you slowly drifted to sleep. 

You woke up feeling refreshed, blanket almost covering you up like a pharaoh mummy buried for millennia. Headache, you feared having it every time you slept stressed. You stood up and there was none, luckily. The clock showed 8:30; 15 mins before your Science class, and it made you pack your things right away, then rush upstairs to grab your towel to shower. 

Afterwards, you decided to walk your way to school.

The sun’s heat didn’t bother you, the sunlight did. Leaves scattered on the ground moved by the wind’s direction. People walked on the opposite side, but you took the other way for the trees that would cover you from the rays. 

At school, you saw red bandanas hanging on the entrance gate, then to the main corridor, with the school’s name spelled on giant letter stickers with red borders in each. Students stood left and right, having interactions, some had their own task for their school though the council don’t even seem to appreciate it .

You entered the classroom and sat beside Jun, and he gave you a wink. The professor was at his table with a book in his hand and a ballpen tucked between his index finger and middle. A presentation slide was displayed on the TV; talking about what and how’s on Tsunamis.

After the lunch bell rang, your classmates quickly headed outside. You waited for your friends by the entrance door. Others carried lunchboxes, while Jun normally had a wallet in his hand. Along the way you asked him about the situation around, and he called you dumb for being clueless about the inter-school sports competition. Arriving, you saw the canteen crowded. Your friend spotted an empty table at the corner of most of the place with trays and empty chip bags over it. Two tables away from the right sat ladies in white sports jackets, red curves and black stripes in sleeves. One of them looked familiar. 

“Watch your eyes, you wouldn’t want to argue with your girlfriend in this place.” Minho places his lunchbox, opens it, then brings out utensils from the bag. 

“Not really, I’m just wondering what school they are from.” 

“Yonsei, don’t you know?”

You looked at him quickly. Did you hear it right? You thought that you’ve misheard it, but right as he repeated his answer, you’ve been reassured. They are from Yonsei University; the school where Wonyoung currently studies. 

“You alright? Did I say something?”

“No, nothing. I just wondered how we end up fighting against a high class university.” You forced a smile. 

“Ask your hot girlfriend. You know, some girls are blessed with such skills. Should be glad about it.”

Your friends arrived together, holding their bought lunches as they placed it on the table. They wore smiles, out of randomness, they might have stumbled upon something. Your circle’s humor is broken. Sometimes you felt that someone in your classroom was annoyed by your group’s humor. 

“How was your Christmas fam.” Jun wraps his arm around your shoulder, then takes a spoonful bite of rice on his other hand. 

“Sucks.”

“Got sucked or . . “

“No shit for that dirty humor.”

“Just kidding, why the long face though.”

“They must’ve fought,” Minho answered, mouth full. You kept your mouth shut and you knew they would understand, especially Jun.

“So are we guessing the reason for it?” Jun raises a brow.

“She didn’t visit me yesterday. She didn’t even tell me she’s going to drink all night with her friends. I’m not gatekeeping her with all such actions but, isn’t a simple thing to do to update me at least?”

You noticed your friends glanced at each other. Minho paused from taking another spoonful bite of his tonkatsu and placed down his spoon. 

“You both talked about it already?” Jun asked.

“I’m not in the mood to talk to her today.”

“Doesn’t give you a reason though to look up at other girls because of that.” Minho interrupted. Jun nudged you hard in the shoulder

“Yah? I know those Yonsei bitches are a bunch of hot daddy’s daughters. But you know we don’t tolerate cheating, right?”

“I’m not someone who’d do such a thing. I love Sullyoon, alright? It’s just that I'm disappointed.”

“The consequences as well. Sullyoon is hella popular around here in the campus, you should know your decisions. Just talk about it, can you both?” Jun placed taps on your back, and you nodded. 

“We would.” You sighed. You knew how lucky you were to be in a relationship with Sullyoon, everybody does. Not only because she’s pretty, Sullyoon achieves high in classes and you were inspired to be one as well. Through countless arguments between you and her, it got resolved no matter what, but this time you found it worse. 

You snapped off upon the crash sound of a bowl. Minho had accidentally spilled his soup, scattering liquids on the cold floor. Some turned to look at him, and one of them was the Yonsei girls on your right. You made eye contact with one of them, staring for countful seconds, you felt you met her for some time yet you don’t remember. Her hair was curly, eyes almost identical with puppies. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, then slowly a light smile appeared on her lips.

Your friends watched the woman approach your table. They looked fascinated, then nervous. 

“Y/n?”

“Yujin?”

“Gosh,  I missed you.” She sat on your right despite the little space, and you were forced to move left. She was close, you didn’t care. 

“I missed you too, sunbaenim.”

“Yah, I told you to stop calling me that. Just because I scolded you back when you were noisy as hell does mean you’d make me look already.” Yujin pushed your shoulder. You felt relieved to meet your old friend. She never failed to keep her matured beauty. “I didn’t know you transferred to this . . . school?” Her eyes wandered around the place between words.

“Not everybody is blessed to stay in Yonsei like you.”

She clucked her tongue, pouting. “If only I had enough money to help you return to us, I did already. Bunch of normies around our floor, I hate seeing them.”

“How’s your thing with Junho?” You giggled. 

“Ew?

“Keep ewing, some day you’d fall back at him as well.”

“Stinky ass basketball players.”

“So you’re calling me stinky?”

“You play basket?” Jun interrupts in a polite way. 

“Yeah, you guys don’t know?” Yujin answers, glancing at you confused. “Your friend never told you he used to break legs at our school?”

“Nah, that’s too much.” You sigh and shake your head.

“Hey? Why not tell shit, huh?” Jun nudged you hard once again. He complained why you had to keep it from them, even Minho. You wanted to be an academic student instead. Being popular used to be your dream goal in a campus, but you failed countless times until the last year of senior high, which is the year where you closed with Yujin and her old friends.

 Yujin asked about your participation in the inter school basketball tournament, and the answer was obviously no. Disappointed, but as if she could do anything to change your decision.

“This is Jun, Minho, Lei and Jian.” Each of your friends wave as you introduce their names to Yujin. 

“Oh wait, I’ll introduce my friends as well to everyone.” She called her friends on the other table, gesturing to come as the girls glanced at each other, seemingly lazy, but shortly they stood altogether. You felt a little excitement, new friends maybe? But not until you saw one of them familiar faces, making your heart race. You never expected Wonyoung to be with them.

“Shit, they’re attractive.” Jun mumbled. Soon as they stood beside Yujin, you looked back to your front, at Minho. 

“So this is Rei.” She gestured her hand to the pink haired girl. “Leeseo.” to the ponytailed woman. “Gaeul.” to the short haired girl sucking the lollipop on her hand. “Liz,” to the long haired girl who seemed to love bangs.  “And lastly, Wonyoung.”  Her hair was curly, and last night it wasn’t. With specs atop her hair, you still felt her rich vibe with any outfit she wore. 

You met her eyes, locking for several seconds before you decided to end it. You can’t see her the same anymore. 

“They looked more normies than what we have back in the campus.” Gaeul chuckled.

“Yah? What’s this woman pointing out?” Jun pointed his finger at her, glancing at each of you. “As if the boys in your campus could last in a fist fight, huh?”

“Tryhard bad boys huh?” Liz scoffs. 

“Yujin, these are your friends?” You whisper to her, and she giggles, pushing your thigh.

“Well, Minju, Yena, Chaewon and the others transferred schools. We Wonyoung were the only ones left in Yonsei.”

“Never expected you to obtain such a daddy's girl attitude ass type friends.” 

Yujin giggled, she knew you hit the spot and she seemed to agree. 

***

The beef between your friends and Yujin’s team took a little while, and it stopped until you decided to take Yujin for a treat around the canteen. You never worried about running out of money because you had savings, hidden under the closet, and stupidly getting asked why not put it into the bank instead.

“You and Wonyoung still talk right?” Yujin presses the straw over the shake. 

“Of course.” It took you several seconds to answer. 

“Why didn't you seem to acknowledge each other awhile ago?”

“Are we supposed to pounce on each other when meeting?” 

“Not really, it’s just not normal. Tell me, you fought?”

“Of course, no.”

She presses her shake on your arm and you flinch on how freezing it was. 

“Gonna tell me or what? I knew you sucked on making lies and excuses. Come on, we’ve opened up to each other countless times.”

You sighed heavily, and guided her to the wall railing where the other blocks could be seen. You leaned yourselves on the bar, facing each other.

“She kissed me last night.” 

Yujin choked suddenly, intentional or not, her expression was valid. She then slowly covered her mouth with her fingers.

“Wony? Why? Like she knows you’re in a relationship right? Is she out of her mind?”

“She knows. She told me she kept her feelings for years.”

“So she was not certain about your platonic friendship?”

“Perhaps. I don’t know, I don’t see her the same anymore. I’m very confused right now. I just want to tuck myself inside somewhere that no one could ever find me anymore.

A sigh escaped her mouth. After then she reached her drink at you, asking you to take a sip. It was random. Despite your rejects she kept insisting and you were left no choice to take one. The shake was sweet, melon in flavor and the bits of crushed ice filled in your tongue. 

“I’ve heard that iconic quote from you again.” She grinned and turned to look at the outside view while she combed her hair down with her fingers. “I don’t know, she never opened up to me about it. Though you should talk about it together, but of course not today or here, you might not want your girlfriend to scandalize around the campus.” She glanced at you with a smirk, then shortly her eyes traveled behind you. Her smile slowly dropped.  “And there she goes.”

You felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. It was soft at first, then tightened a little once it had fully wrapped you. 

“Hey baby.” You hear that usual voice, sweetness with bitterness. The Jasmine scent of her hair soothed; she’d always have that. “Never thought you could talk to outsiders these days.”

You noticed Yujin's little scoff. Sullyoon’s team came together, the Crows, and they stood behind your girlfriend. 

“She’s my old friend from Yonsei, when I used to study there. Her name is Yujin by the way.”

Sullyoon gave her a light smile, and it was enough for you to take that, though you felt it’s a forced one. Yujin gave a light bow in response. You saw Yujin’s team approaching from the distance, walking altogether, their eyes fixed at you and to the Crows. Their faces fearless as they stood behind Yujin, the sense of indirect heat up between the opposing teams. You switched your eyes at your best friend standing behind Liz, and she quickly looked away. 

“Come on, it’s time for practice.” Rei started off. Her eyes traveled between Crow’s members, passively yet aggressive. It must be her natural eye shape. 

“Yeah, I’m going off anyways.” A light smile forms in Yujin’s lips, keeping eyes at you, then bows lightly. “Nice meeting you once again, Y/n.” 

You expected things to go worse, but it turned out not. You’ve known Yujin to act non-passive, she’d always be. Despite her approachable, cool vibe boys would feel comfortable to talk to, she’d be completely opposite. There were reasons, and she told you about it and you felt lucky to get close with someone like her.  The Yonsei girls walked away altogether, turning backs at the same time. You knew they’d talk about it when some of them surrounded Yujin. 

You didn’t know what to do. Yujin and her friends disappeared on your sight when they steered left. The skies dimmed and became cooler when the sun got covered by the thick clouds left and right. There was a sense of heaviness in your chest that wouldn’t just disappear quickly. Sullyoon kept herself beside you while she nodded at her friends, signaling they could walk away. You were hesitant to face, not because you are scared, but because your emotions are still mixed after last night, and what she had left you in. Then when you managed to gather yourself up to face your girlfriend,  her eyes were fixed at you, crossed arms, but in a way she’d let you know she was pissed. 

“Let’s not argue for now.” You started calmly. 

“You’re deciding things between us now?”

“It’s your game day, I don’t want . . . “

“I don’t care Y/n.” She interrupted. “See, you’ve clearly left me in inbox this morning, then seen last night, and this is what I’m going to see?”

You didn’t answer. It was not the sense of being cornered, but in a way you were holding yourself in with your thoughts and words. In few hours, your girlfriend will play carrying the university’s name, and you don't want to be the reason for her downfall.

“I don’t understand Y/n. Sometimes, you’re just ridiculous. I don’t know what to say anymore.” 

You pulled her wrist when she began to walk away, but she shook it off, not bothering to look at you nor give a glance. The struggle to speak, and as you watched her walk out, your feelings got mixed out even more that not even anyone could describe. You kept your composure and watched her follow the team downstairs. 

You didn’t know what to do anymore. 

Few hours later you returned to the classroom, your friends headed first and you saw them in the back row, a chip bag tucked between Minho’s thighs. They would always reserve an empty seat for you. Throughout the class, you felt dumber, maybe because you were stressed, or the short argument between your girlfriend. Jun noticed your sudden quietness. He asked you in a manner the professor wouldn't notice, whispering, but useless when you shook your head as an answer. 

Exactly the start of your girlfriend’s game matched the subject’s wrapping up, and you headed to the gymnasium with your friends, then met three adults outside the entrance door. You’ve thought worse, but it was only a security check, always in every event. Patting each of your clothes, shortly they let you all in. You saw how crowded it was inside, every section almost filled in but there were empty ones around the middle lower area. Red bandanas knotted on each railing ends above, hanging freely as it swayed with the wind  Minho found empty seats on the upper right most section. He asked all of you to sit with him and nobody contested. He bragged how he could pick such good spots and you told him how good the spot is sarcastically. The view felt a kilometer away from the court like it was some Taylor Swift concert. 

The crowd erupted in cheers. You looked over and saw each team appear from different directions. Your school’s team from the left, and Yonsei on the right, near the fire exit. The fans on the right ride waved their balloons colored in blue. They were the Yonsei, and they never left that color. Your school chose the contradicting color, red, just how much you’ve seen that color fill the whole corridor downstairs.

Few minutes long, the game had started. Each student in their own schools chanted their school’s pride along their aggressive wavings of their balloon. Shouts echoing through walls. It was really like a concert. You looked at your friends to see them busy with their phones, and only stopped when they noticed you. You didn’t really care, it was just confusing why they had to stop. 

You could recognize your girlfriend despite the distance from your seat. She is tall, everyone knows that, but you had a certain way of recognizing her: her alluring thighs. Her curvature is just unique, and most of all her pretty face. 

She had thrown good serves and spikes throughout the rounds. Shouts from men seemed more audible, maybe the ones beside their benches where they left their things. It was louder when it’s your girlfriend’s play. Mark beside you never focused on the game, showing you some Instagram reels on his phone that he found hilarious. His humor was broken, but then everyone in the circle understood that.

After several rounds, Yonsei students' chants began to fade but the school’s students. On the digital clock, right in the middle of the net pole, your school had an advantage of four points from your old school. You could see how Yonsei pushed more with their style. Liz managed to give a clean set to your best friend, Wonyoung, and managed to spike the ball hard on the school side. A quick high five on Yonsei’s team then got back to their positions right away. After the whistle blew from the referee, a clean rally was made again. Pass there, pass that, throw, and receive, that’s the flow. When Jinsol spiked the ball, the short-haired girl from Yonsei managed to save it. It was Gaeul if you remember. The ball was a float receive, where Yujin took the shot from the utility position and spiked the ball right beside your girlfriend. You saw Sullyoon shake her head and give a quick side-eye to her. It was funny. Sometimes she’d show her arrogant side, but very rarely. 

Few rounds both schools were tied in points, and once they made another point, then it’s their win. Sullyoon served and was received by Gaeul. Yujin’s team started aggressive. A minus tempo set from the middle by Liz and spiked by Wonyoung, but was received by Haewon from the back. Jiwoo set the ball to Sullyoon on the outside then gave her a good position to spike, but then it was received by Leeseo. The screams from both schools loudened. Balloons waved aggressively. Some began to chant their team’s name, and your friends were focused on the rally. 

As the ball floated on Yonsei’s side, Yujin tried another attack to the opposite side, and Jinsol blocked it, but then was saved by Rei from the left. Given another chance to correct their mistake, Liz sets the ball to Wonyoung. She was open, it was a clear shot for Wonyoung. It felt like the world slowed down and one shot would end the school’s journey to the trophy. The sense of joy was within, it’s your best friend anyways, but it’d be worse to hear the school’s loss.

When she landed a hard slap on the ball, your girlfriend had a lucky timing when she raised both arms sideways at Wonyoung, and as the ball bounced off her arms, it fell down sideways and met Yujin’s court side. Your school’s students erupted in cheers and screams while the Yonsei students died down, but some were still waving their balloons. Your friends cheered. Jun stood up with both arms lifted, and sat down quickly when you and your friends looked at him. Everything was chaotic, the loudness around the court got into you, and it was a sort of memorable experience. A cat walked past when you got outside. Yonsei students made their way towards the shuttle parked outside the large fences. Some wore long faces, some did not, just normal though the bitchiness could be seen. The sun had set down through flat grayish clouds in the distance as if it was peeking at the school. 

You cradled the black furry cat. You were bored, still clueless about what just happened back inside. 

“So, why alone all of a sudden?” Yujin walked from behind, standing beside you as she caressed the cat. 

“Oh, hey.” You smiled, her presence always made you feel relieved. She tilted her head waiting for your answer. “Is it wrong if I Am?”

“It is, and you’re not with your girlfriend right now. Your school won, aren’t you happy with it?” Then she pointed her finger at you, a smirk forming on her lips. “Or you really are, you still support your old school huh?”

“Old school still hits differently.”

“Come on now, support your girlfriend back there.” She nudged your arm. “I’m saving you from your two sided girlfriend. She thought I wouldn’t notice that side-eye she gave me huh.” She giggled and came closer to your ear. “They’re just lucky Gaeul had a fever.” “She had?” “Yeah, but she wanted to play as well. There’s no other better liberos out there than her.” She sighs and looks in the same direction where you are looking. “Well it’s fine, I don’t really care that much. When we first met, I was already playing. I’m tired as fuck I wanna quit, but I wouldn’t want to be replaced by someone stupid as well.” She smiles. “Come on, go inside. We’ll see each other again soon, don't worry.”

You opened your arms, wanting a hug. She faced you with crossed arms and scanned you from toes to your eyes, then grins. She placed her hand between your chest and placed a few taps. It was soft, her hands. 

“You want your girlfriend to kill us both? Well I don’t mind, it’s just you that I’m thinking.” She gently pushed you away. “I’ll return that when you visit Yonsei again. It’ll be more than just a hug if you do.” 

“Like?”

“Of course it’s a secret boy” Her voice disappointed. “Go to our school then you’ll see.”

You shake your head while she keeps that mocking look at you. It sounded wrong, or it was just you. Being green minded has always been inside anyone’s head, so it’s normal, but perhaps you assumed too much. 

***

Back inside, it was messy. Confettis and long red ribbons scattered on the floor, then swept away as you walked through. There were still students around, but most were schoolmates. Yonsei had mostly left together with Yujin’s team. Everything smelled confusing like a group of crowds in the city market. 

You stumbled upon Jinsol before you could reach the gym door. She told you Sullyoon was left back inside, probably waiting for you. She never looked mad or disappointed, she never was, and even placed a ‘bro’ tap on your back before you would have pushed the door open. 

The door clanked closed and it echoed throughout the court. You spotted your girlfriend as she exited the locker room, carrying her duffel bag. She still wore her red varsity shirt and black shorts, kneepads on her knees. Her black hair is loose. There was silence between you two, around five to six seconds, before you ended it with clearing your throat. 

“Congrats, babe. I watched everything, you did great.” You began, hesitation in your tone. 

Her face stayed emotionless, not a single inch of movement from her lips. She kept her gaze and you felt her hatred behind those eyes. She’d always give those whenever she’s mad and you were used to it, but doesn’t fail to give you discomfort at the same time. 

“I mean I know you’re not in your mood to see me right now, but I just want to congratulate you as your boyfriend, and someone who’d stay by your side even in the worst times” You swallowed the lump in your throat, and after another silence came through you started to walk away. 

“So you’re leaving?” She finally spoke, but in a plain tone. You stopped and turned at her. “Is that a boyfriend act?”

“No, of course. I . . I”

“Hesitant? Same reason all over again because you’re scared to talk to me right in my face when these matters come.” 

“I just don’t wanna ruin your day. Today is your win day.” “You step out that door” She points her finger. “And leave me hanging all alone, you think that will not ruin it as well, Y/n?”

You felt exhausted with everything, and it’s just that a simple hug would clearly end this all right away. You were not in your mood to argue, to open up your hatred about Christmas day, and you just want to rest. You let out a deep sigh and walked towards her. The shoes of yours squeaking against the court floor.

“Look, I'm sorry. My emotions consumed me when you ghosted my texts the whole night during christmas. I really hated when I saw you post pics on your story while you left my messages hanging throughout your party. I’m overthinking, and worried. You know that?” You spoke calmly. She crossed her arms, tilting her head.

“You don’t trust me don’t you?” 

“It’s not like that, Yoona. Is it bad for me to feel that way, I’m just worried.”

“Yeah you’re worried, because you don’t trust me. That’s it. We’ve been together for a year and a half already, babe. If I’m that of a cheater like all the other girls you see around this campus, you think we’ll last this long? I chose you because I know I could trust you, and I thought you’d do the same. It’s always you who’s trying to make things worse.”

“I do trust you, okay?” You sighed and groaned. “Alright, I’m sorry. I told you. My emotions consumed me.”

"And what now? You think your sorry could do something on that pain you gave to me? Always the same usual word I'll receive and then guess what, you'd do it again."

"It's my fucking emotions that made me do it. I was out of my mind, I was angry."

"It's not a valid reason for me Y/n. What if you've done something worse than this? Tell me. I'm trying to be understanding most of the time. Why do you have to abuse it?"

There was silence. It was hard to form up such word or thought, and it was better to shut your mouth than feed the fire with more gasoline. She'd always turn the tables and make you the worse one between you couple. She never failed, but you who's a stupid, would let her do it over and over again.

She kept her gaze still, keeping her arms crossed. You could hear her breaths fasten. The silence seemed to calm the situation as it got longer. There were no other people around rather than both of you, so no matter if you both shouted at each other, no one would care. 

“I don’t want our day to be like this, Y/n.” She looked up at you, her tone calmer. Her eyes were still disappointed but she tried her best to look welcoming after. Then she removed her gaze at you and moved it somewhere behind your direction. “So, I’ll let this slide for now. I just want the day great.”

Your light nods made her look back at you. 

“Go get my stuff I left there inside the locker room. That’s the thing you can do for me, for now.”

So you followed. Inside, there were her bags over the bench in the middle of their room. The room smelled Jasmine and a mix of Lavender. The blue tinted glass pane colored the lights outside blue with a hint of ray passing through the glass, down to the floor. As you carried her items, you saw Sullyoon at the door. It was closed, then a clunking sound. She kept her gaze at you while leaning, her hands behind her waist, her foot resting against the door.

“I found it, let’s go?” You smiled and there was still silence. She pushed herself with her foot and began to walk slowly towards you. You kept your composure, watched her image get closer and closer. It was dim. She had not opened the lights but her presence was not impossible for you to see. She pushed the bags over your arms away and you watched it fall on the ground. Her eyes, those alluring eyes, were still chained on yours. You were confused. You began to step backwards while asking her sudden actions, but not a single answer escaped her lips. And when you met the wall behind you, she tilted her head and grasped your right wrist, pushing it against the wall.

Then she leaned for a kiss, capturing your lips quickly. It begins soft, just touching your lips, then slowly she starts to suck into your upper lip. You raised your left arm and wanted to touch her shoulder, but she moved it away, slapping your hand. She pulled away when she grabbed your other wrist. Her eyes filled with hatred, and she gave those to you. Your both arms are both pinned against the wall. 

“Don’t touch me.” She said softly in a warning tone.

“Yoona, here?”

She narrowed her eyes, your question seemed to annoy her more. “You are worried if someone’s gonna catch us here, fucking your loved one inside this dark room. But you never thought of getting worried on how I may feel with all these shitty actions you’re doing nowadays, huh? Isn’t that unfair?” She pressed her body more into you. It was getting more uncomfortable, but sort of hot at the same time. Her breaths warm on your neck. “So I’m here . .” Every phrase, she kisses and slides her lips onto your neck. “To remind you . . . that cheating on me . . . is your loss . . .” She bites your neck and you let out a soft groan. “ and not mine . . .”

She captured your lips once again and this time it was aggressive. You returned the favor, kissing and sucking into her lower lips that felt very soft. She wrapped her arms around your neck. Her strength enough to pull you even for a deeper kiss that your lips were shoving into each other. She let out soft moans between kisses. You felt her tongue asking for entrance and you welcomed it inside yours

Her hands finally freed your wrists, now below your shirt as she pulled it out from you, leaving you shirtless. She continued to place kisses on your necks, and once she gave a hickey on a spot where it’s impossible to be hidden, just a centimeter between your chin, then she came closer to your ear. “And this will be a reminder to your Yonsei friends.” She whispers. 

She made her way down to your chest, sucking into your nipples. You felt like you were in heaven, quite painful, but seeing her hot face devouring you like her post-celebration meal was enough to take those pain away. Her sports shirt, shorts that exposed her thick thigh, she was the definition of seduction. After her works around your chest and into your abs, she finally knelt down. She looked up at you with full desire and lust. Her quickening breaths showed how much energy she had put with those. 

Her hands made their way into your belt, unbuckling it, and there was the click of the lock. She bit her lip when it came loose. She threw it away and pulled your pants down. The bulge of your dick on your black underwear greeted her like a toy that is ready to be played with. 

You felt her hand on your arm, wrapping her fingers, then pulled you to sit on the bench . The blue light ray from the glass pane shining on both of you is enough for her to enjoy the sight even more. She traced circles around your bulge with her fingers, slowly and sensual. Oh you say, it felt like a sort of heavenly trial that is impossible to resist, and when that index finger reached the tip you knew it was the time to succumb upon her. A soft moan escaped her mouth; you felt it hot over your abdomen. Then when she pulled down your underwear quickly, your dick sprang out to show how it’s ready to be served to her. “Quite a long time.” She hummed, enjoying the view in her eyes. And when she wrapped her fingers around it, she began to take you into her mouth, sending shivers to your body. Your hand resting against the bench and your other on her nape. Cold never existed around the room. Every second you’d feel a sweat trick down your body, and thus it easen her job right now. She takes you even deeper into her mouth, pushing herself more down to your cock. You could hear her choke between, but you ignored. It feels more satisfying. You were enjoying every second that she gave to you.  She pulled away and took a quick deep breath. Her eyes tired, but yet the signs of lust. Her hair messy, and a slick of her saliva on her mouth. She bit her lip, continued to take herself more into your cock but this time she went faster. Now it was a different feeling, a sense of rush and it brings you closer to your climax. Seeing her like this was enough to make you finish, but you didn’t want to disappoint your girlfriend, and you know you owe her a lot after all.

Your breath quickened, you were getting very close. And as she watched you, seeing her work at you, she went faster and faster. One last second she pushed herself deeper more into your cock and heard her gurgle. All of today’s argument, stress, and adrenaline finally came into a thick white semen into your girlfriend’s needy throat. She had to make sure it all went straight into her, nothing to waste, nothing to leave a mark of her dirty work. The light outside finally dimmed and it was the sign of night. You let out a deep breath, trying to catch your breath after all. You thought it was done, just a simple quickie she’d always wanted every time, but when she stood up with her eyes not leaving against yours, and leaned closer into you with her fingers grabbing a few strands of your hair, it said otherwise.

“Your turn.” She smirked.

She pressed her foot over your pants to keep it still when you raised your legs out from it. Now you are bare naked. You grabbed her by her waist and brought her towards the locker, pulling her to bend over. Her thick thighs, her soft ass, you were craving for it and you’d never get tired of it. When you slid your hands around it, taking your time to enjoy every inch of it despite the clothing that separates yours and her skin, she moaned. Those moans that’d always keep you active in dirty activities. She made sure it was soft. 

“Show me how sorry you are for your doings.” She groaned.

There was no time to waste. You pulled her tight black shorts down, and showed much of her delicious ass beneath her red undergarment. You squeezed in your fingers between her panties, grabbing both cheeks, then pushed your hands down to her legs where the garment had freely fallen along. She watched you enjoy the view of her thighs. Her hair down free. The moans that escaped her mouth as you guided your hands from her thighs up to her perfect curvature of her waist reminded you how sensitive she was with your touches. Sullyoon crumbled within your fingers, and you knew she enjoyed it. You placed kisses on her ass cheeks, to her thighs, every part down to her knees. She’s something worth praising for. And with this image of her, bending over from a red locker with her desireful eyes gazing was only meant for you. 

As you shoved your cock into hers, she let out a short loud moan, but quick enough to cover her own mouth after. You began to thrust into her slowly, wanting to hear those noises from her mouth and how she’d beg you to ruin her like a slut. She arched her back and showed more of her curves, resting her arms against the locker doors. Your hands wandering on her skin and her sweat made her body look even more hotter. Now that you quickened your pace at her, her moans began to grow. Her fingers clinged against a small hook of an empty locker. She’d try herself not to be loud, but each second, you’d hear her groan and moan beneath her breaths. She’d give you those eyes pleading you for more.

From her waist, now your hands made their way up to her chest while you continued to grind her. You slowly lifted off her varsity shirt when she raised both of her arms, and only left her with her thin black clothing. Quickly unclipping it, you pulled it out and threw it away, exposing her breasts that were soft in your palms. They were perfect, not big, but not too flat, just enough for your palms to squeeze into. Her nipples hard. She pressed your hands more into her pair of tits while grinding yourself into her, and shortly she tapped your waist to stop.

You watched her turn around and face you, wrapping her arms around your neck and pulling you for another deep sensational kiss. Your mouth's sounding the room. She grabbed your hands and placed them against her breasts once again. They were really soft, her nipples that were satisfying to pinch, and each time you’d do, she’d moan between kisses. You pulled away when you felt her hand around your cock and saw her guide it back inside her. It took quite a moment, but shortly she got it done. Her walls were warm, and you couldn’t wait to grind her throughout the dusk. 

“Fucking fuck” She muttered between moans as you resumed your work at her. You carried and held her ass as she raised her legs to wrap it around you, now her full weight under your carry. You pushed her against the lockers and each thrust you gave made audible bangs on the locker doors. She didn’t seem to care about the pain, and the noises seemed to push her louder. 

There are only a matter of seconds before you could reach your climax once again. Her nails dug into your scalp. It was painful, but not for your orgasm that consumed you which made it inevitable. 

“I’m close” She gasps, a visible plea in her face.

She moans loudly around the room that felt like a scream, but now you don't care much. You loved hearing those, her moans felt like a temporary boost to your thrusts, a signal light to be faster. Everything seemed to lose within seconds. You are not in a condom, you don’t know if she’s on her pills, it’s just an entire guess here guess what, pleasure in the end, without thinking of the possible consequences. But right before you would have reached your climax, you pulled away. She knew it, and her mischievous grin showed much of it. Her hands pushed you back into the bench to sit as she knelt down in front of you, continuing to stroke your cock. Her hand rubbed it hard, then  swallowed it back into her throat where you fully shooted your second round of cum. You noticed her rubbing her clit along with her devours and her juices had spread on the floor. 

“Shit, Yoona” There were no other words to say but this. She continued to take you into her mouth, twirling, then slowly pulled off. A slick of your cum on her mouth before she licked it off. You watched her catch her breath while she looked back at you, her eyes showed appreciation, and her hatred seemed to disappear after all. 

“I like it when we do it somewhere illegal. Not in your just boring ass apartment.” She giggled, resting herself over your thighs. You caressed her cheeks and ran your fingers over her smooth hair that was now messy than an hour ago. You could only take your time now appreciating her presence by your side. People don't know what’s in here. They must’ve been in their homes now. It’s already nighttime, around six or a half, and she doesn’t seem to care about it. She just wanted you, being reassured that your love is within her till now.