#[ sex in the way that it /is/ something she engages in. but in the way that one does without overindulging at all. no promiscuity. ] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

werezmastarbucks · 3 days ago

Text

U N17

U N7 masterlist 12/14

word count: 7708

music: life goes on by agust d

warnings: stalker stalking, violence, Yoongi's pov present. how y/n goes about handling a stalker is the WRONG way bc she's delulu

author's note: enter deus ex machina. if anybody knows how to write it avoiding the trope, hit me (with a shovel)

you don't wear the green tea perfume anymore; switched to something sweeter, fruitier and bolder. you like expensive perfumes that last on you, so that you can sense them yourself; otherwise, what's the point? Yoongi doesn't seem to be smelling different these days, at least not the last few times you've seen him. it's the same home-yanking woody citrus smell. he is very steady.

you leave the window open checking if the mosquito net is stuck tightly. the late June air is so sweet it makes your heart want to sing. Yoongi and Jungkook think alike, sending you messages at the same time. but they are of very different nature. you haven't seen him since May and don't have the impulse, the stay in Seoul was overwhelming and uncomfortable. the sex hit too close to home, and you even got a nasty feeling like he was crumbling a little. every time the train crosses the fine narrow line at the border of Busan, it's like a mechanic voice in your head says,

you're safe now. you're in the safety zone.

and all Seoul troubles fade away. you're strong. you're responsible for your life. you don't need anyone. the light is soft and mellow, sun is shining at the right angle, and the green streets lined up with fruit trees welcome you home. this is you. a hundred years of exhaustion and heartache slip off of you and leak down the drain taking the nightmares with it. all is well and if this was a book ending, it would be short and sweet. all is well in Busan, no zombie apocalypse for now, days long and sunny in the summer, seagulls yelling in the skies and people walk the streets smiling, breezy, their kerchiefs flying away slowly in the wind from the strait.

so no, you don't want to see him. you don't want the darkness that he brings to your mind nowadays. don't want to engage in the exhausting business of trying to find the balance between loving him and coming undone at the seams. you don't want the burden. he is too pretty to look at without getting tired. because he is the closed chapter that you lost the key to. he is the chapter that never belonged to you and yet you are burdened by the weight of a finished relationship that never transpired.

Jungkook says that something big's about to go down. your hands start sweating. it's been in the air for a while.

you pour yourself some lemonade and look around your shoulder at the pear trees outside. they stand in the glimmering evening mist like a picture from a book of tales. you think you're going to be okay now.

you turn on the live where Jungkook is sitting with his hair in the knot on the back of his head and counting until ten.

"you gotta hurry", he laughs, "let's make it ten million before i say ten. run, beautiful, you gotta run".

he is having a lot of fun lately in his fan interactions. he has always been confident and funny, but these days it's like nothing can hurt him. it's a dangerous notion, bordering a delusion, but he has this foundation under him. without having his experiences, you have no idea what it feels like to be this invincible. you think ten million in ten seconds is a bit of a stretch even for him, and he only makes four and pouts, chuckles, embarrassed. people keep coming. he begins with the usual muttering about nothing.

"kind of forgetting how i used to do this thing".

his eyes are reading comments attentively. they are opaque black with the lack of light.

"what i've been doing? this is what i wanted to talk to you about".

he stretches, then rubs his face, the smile not leaving his lips. he is nervous. still has time to change his mind. you are worried, too, but you have natural paranoia that's been riding you all your life, so you usually try not to overpress people with your concerns.

he talks a little more, comments on others' projects, yaps about the city and Jimin, gets distracted, zones out, giggles, goes to pour himself some alcohol. "Yoongi hyung doesn't drink anymore", he cheers the air. you are surprised. people still keep coming, the chat is as usual, a running waterfall of words.

"this is very important to me", he gets serious, "i want to tell you guys because you are my closest people. i know you understand what i mean", he's all business, as serious as he is with the people in his life. Jungkook is very sincere about the fans and always means what he says. in turn, they respect him and fight for him. it's unlike Yoongi who treats them a little like children. a little like loony siblings.

"i think you get that i am not just a boy from Busan anymore. by the way", he gets very close to the screen, making his funny face, brows together, as he checks the viewers.

"anyway, we have been talking with the hyungs about it for the longest time, and we all see how grown we are now, we're like, adults. i actually have been an adult for a while, and our dynamic is a bit different..."

his eyes get concerned as they move quickly, reading.

"we're not disbanding!" he cries out, "we're not disbanding. just... don't jump to conclusions. we're not disbanding. we will be together for a long time. but..."

he sighs, clearly not knowing how to put it. how do you tell that? twenty million people are catching his every word on live. now, twenty-two. he has broken his own record from back when he was even more famous than now. life getting quieter your ass. you realize you're not breathing like he's about to jump off the cliff.

"well, anyway, two years ago my son was born", he just says, simply. and goes quiet for a second, pressing his lips closed too late. there's still a smile in his eyes, a happy smile that is there when he is sharing something important.

"and i am so in love with him. i have a family. my son's name is Taeyang. i want you guys to call him Tae like we do", he bursts in chuckle. the chat becomes the volcanic vent. messages come so quickly it starts glitching and eventually breaks down.

"oh".

his phone buzzes. your shaking hand is lying on the table as you watch him intently.

"oh, my English teacher has texted", his face lights up in a smile. "Kookie Pookie, you're doing great".

he facepalms at himself at reading it out loud.

"oh, wait, you were never my English teacher".

he is having a bit of a breakdown, giggling, his head deep in his hand. his body is shaking with laughter. once the chat is fixed, it's full of pink and purple hearts.

this sends ripples over the internet. half of the world at least is shaken to its core. Taeyang is a June baby, a Gemini. Jungkook tells the fans about it the next day after his second birthday. and it creates a chasm between the past and now. someone leaves. for months, it's unreal being on the internet. some people are having meltdowns, others have parties. all in all, it goes better than expected. for bts, it means a completely new chapter. they have been free for a while now. ever since Hybe started needing them more than they, it, they have been slowly breaking down the stigmas. at first their clawing for the success was desperate and unrelenting. now their journey to independence has been slow, methodical and calculated. a little money on the side here and there, collaborations with artists from other studios, a little bit of disobedience to test the waters, middle fingers from the stage. the stronger ones were in the avant-garde and the others perching them up in the backs. stronger ones meaning Yoongi, Jungkook and Taehyung. now they are the first ones to relax and finally start enjoying their lives the way they want. buying houses with their own money. changing hair the way they want to. date people. you hear Taehyung has a permanent boyfriend he's been dating for almost a year. and yes, he does look a little like Jungkook, but he's way more feisty.

Jungkook is the impatient one when it comes to the parasocial aspect of it. he wants people to accept it and move on. he wants to not lose them over this, and the real ones don't get lost. that's all he cares about. he doesn't show Yuri or Taeyang but only mentions his name, and that's enough to breathe a little deeper. life hasn't been as beautiful for him as it is now, and that is considering he has always thought he was lucky. long story short, Jungkook is very happy. he feels fulfillment. and he definitely doesn't regret grabbing you by the hips on a rainy night in Prague almost ten years ago. he must think of that night a lot. you know you do. you feel connected to him like he is your biological brother.

Yoongi keeps the iced Americano between his knees and removes it as soon as the glass starts warming up. sunglasses keep the hair away from his eyes as he balances things in his hands: bag, coffee, cap, his phone. he checks the calendar and his eyes scan for the empty spots. no need for more than five hours. he's getting restless. summer has been making him jumpy. plane takes only one hour, he can be done in another three hours and drive to the airport and be back in Seoul by three in the morning. he doesn't usually text hi or what's up, just sends the info like you're a colleague:

"29th Friday, 1st of July, 7th of July, 15th of July".

he gets an almost immediate reply. looks at the watch: Jungkook has started his live. by the time he gets out of this car at the store, the world will be a little different for them all. he will probably be met by the long, screaming faces. demanding: and you???

"i'm busy". "i can move things around". "don't".

he must have fucked up by being alive again. sometimes you look at him like you wish he were dead. not in a mean way, but in a regretful way. that's new, and it's a bad sign.

the car trudges down the wide street and he can see the store doors open for him. people neatly lined up behind the purple ribbons stretched up to the entrance. he throws the cap aside and ruffles and grooms his hair to an agreeable shape. he would have cut it all off but he knows you like it this way. so, it's simple.

"you're busy all four evenings?" "yes". "why?" "because i'm fucking busy".

he leaves the car and puts his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. slides the glasses down onto his face and the smile plasters itself, working for him. you might never love him again and he needs to come to terms with it. he has to accept - he is waving his hand shyly, as usual, turning right and left, pauses for a second, bows to them - that this might be the end.

as the space around him warps, reforming itself into a new era of bts, his most precious asset, he is getting used to the reality that, he thinks, you must have lived with already. being rejected stings in a new way, not because he's never been rejected before. of course he was. he was rejected in ways that are intricately cruel, by Riko. Riko, Riko. he needs to stop thinking about her. he hears she's getting married for the third time; outran him there, too. she is an old crust that doesn't bother him anymore, a life lesson in being too kind. he has to go on live streams and say that no, he is single now. there's no one occupying his mind. Jungkook's exodus has set the new rules and the new intimacy for them and the fandom. like a rock cascade, Jimin and Namjoon come out about being in relationships as well, and now they have two new lines: taken and single. it's messier than people think. Jin is pathologically not capable to be in a relationship; he is having too much fun with his life and career, and keeps talking about the fruits. he likes to be admired and nobody can admire him well enough. Taehyung is actually taken but isn't ready to go into details of his life. Hoseok is a gentleman fuckboy enjoying his persistent youth. Yoongi is clinically unavailable, cursed. he doesn't text you anymore and you don't text him and he is trying to draw the lines around him limiting his new environment. he knows life goes on even in radio silence.

until all shit storm of circumstances comes together: on a July day, he has to go back to Daegu because his mother's cousin is dead and Holly is sick; expecting the call from the vet, he keeps the phone on sound, and that's why he doesn't miss a message from you when it lights up on the screen. a call, after weeks of absence, in the sea of dry notifications:

"i need you".

this is how quickly it changes. despair replaces hope, then hope overtakes, it must be a draining existence. he is pondering for several seconds, his eyes targeting the words, until, in the next message you send him something that doesn't sound so simple anymore: a geolocation link.

you're getting your evening portion of lemonade. can't do anything about it, for the last year you've been living a lemonade life. bubble teas and coffee are in the past and now it's the citrus era. it's so nice to walk a couple of kilometers from the designated coffeeshop on a late July evening when the sun simply refuses to set down.

the evening crowd is getting more and more evened out, rare couples are having dates at the tables by the windows, and the rest leaves. you wait in line as usual, music in your airpods, picturing how your night is going to unfold: you want a movie, a bath, to sit by the windows and look at the pear trees like they are your pets. the cat is probably walking around the garden right now, he really likes being outside in the summer and sometimes he even leaves for a couple of days. but he always comes back.

always comes back.

you notice the eyes watching you from the end of the line, and don't hold the contact for too long out of habit. but then your brain slowly puts the pieces together, like it starts clicking. it's happening gradually, taking you on the road of past memories where small and insignificant interactions now make more sense.

Kim Seongjun, you now remember. the last time at Hybe, about a month and a half ago, he looked pretty let down when you said you don't recall his name. you found this reaction peculiar. you must have seen him two or three times. but you were wrong.

the guy who you always bumped into in the corridor on the way to a lesson.

the guy who almost always went to the gym at ten in the evening, always third wheeling there. the sound designer, your brain always said. working out quietly by the wall.

the guy who helped you hang up the congratulations poster on the wall of Hobi's studio when they returned from America with a Grammy. heavy breathing at your shoulder.

they guy who kept noticing you although you didn't notice him, distracted by others. by Yoongi. too distracted to see that he's always there, at the lunch time, when you were leaving, in the foyer. you even rode in the elevator once.

Kim Seongjun. sounding so similar to Jin's full name, but he can't be further away from him. high shoulders like a bull's, thick eyebrows and ears placed on uneven level on the sides of his head. he stopped you at the corridor at Hybe in May. he said, oh, y/n, haven't seen you in a while! his smile died as soon as your face turned into an akward expression. you felt a little guilty, now you understand why. he saw you but you didn't see him. he smelt you once. he knows where you used to rent an apartment.

you turn again to make absolutely sure it's him. yes. the same expressive round eyes, like a squirrel's. looking at you from under the cap intently, not the way strangers peek at each other at a coffeeshop. he's keeping the eye contact, so you raise your brow to let him know it's a problem, then you make your order.

he lingers at the end of the queue, letting people through before him, and turns his head to follow your movement as you walk away from the register. he isn't really going to order anything. you see the last light throwing the dark sunrays on top of the roofs across the street. now is the hour of sunset. in five minutes, the streets will become bleak. you sit by the wall, claiming one of the many unoccupied tables and take out your phone.

you can call the police, but there's nothing to tell them. i think my ex-colleague, who i am suddenly realizing just now might be my long-time part-time stalker, has followed me to Busan. yeah that's him, his offense is that he wants to lick my pussy and take me on a date.

you consider people around as well but something stops you. while the brain is thinking, the hand actually already knows. there's no moment of hesitation as you open a chat and text Yoongi. you keep yourself casual, don't rush your movements, keep your head high to be able to see his blurry silhouette at the register. he turns around and pretends to study the menu screen. you cross your legs, sip a little of lemonade. he isn't leaving but isn't approaching either. he is the ink spot against the colorful interior.

"i need you".

you send him your location. it's a strange formulation but you don't feel like screaming help. nothing's happened yet. your paranoia has been your friend and your enemy. your mind is completely not okay in general and you don't always trust yourself. most importantly, the memories kick in. of discomfort and irritation, of vague fear when you found a bunch of flowers right at the door of your apartment. he's only left you messages three times and there was no way to take it seriously. boss definitely didn't.

maybe it's a coincidence. maybe he just looks a lot like Kim Seongjun. but why is he staring again then? you hope your face is not flushed.

as the memories of that time kick in, so does the habit of searching comfort in Yoongi even when he himself isn't aware of it. Seongjun was there actually, while Yoongi was training you the ways to fight him. it's comical. he must have even heard your conversations about him.

"i think it's Kim Seongjun the sound designer. you remember him?"

Yoongi is taking it slow although you see the messages are being read.

with how the messengers are built nowadays you even see him leave the chat for a minute. he must go to the Hybe app for employees and look for him. Yoongi understands everything without extra explanations.

he doesn't say anything snappy, he isn't sore or sulking.

"you're sure?" "55% sure".

you have no idea what you actually want him to do here. it's not like he's going to...

"stay there. i'll be there in 30 minutes". "??" "i'm at my parents' house".

seems impossible. Daegu is a hundred kilometers away. then he adds,

"do NOT provoke him"

if anyone in the world knows how badly you want to punch someone in the face at least once in your life, it's Yoongi the boxing instructor.

you look at the time on your phone and start counting. still trying to keep your face looking like you're scrolling instagram. if that isn't a sign from above, you don't know anymore. it's seventeenth of July, he's been somewhere around two days ago, so what's happening now? it's like shooting blind and accidentally striking the bullseye.

he is approaching now and you act normal because you never know what people actually want.

it's definitely Kim Seongjun though; he's wearing the same shirt as in May and the same buzzcut with shades on the sides. keeps sharp sideburns that make him look like an anime character. you stare because he simply sits himself down at your table.

"remember me now?"

you're silent. the indignation rises in you and you have to clutch your phone, begging yourself not to explode right here. he scartches his temple with the dry working finger. hands unmoisturized, not elegant and with sweet pink knuckles destined for a piano. your own knuckles recall the familiar awesome pain of the heavy punching bag. even if he is a little late, you promise yourself to get a piece of this jerk tonight.

"Seongjun, isn't it?" you ask, cautious. you pretend, only half-way, to be surprised.

"took you long enough to memorize my name", he mutters. looks like he's feeling the eyes of the whole coffeeshop on him. also paranoid. great soil for going crazy. you don't like the hostility and heat in his eyes.

"well, you did scold me last month, so now i remember".

he nods. staring into you intently. his eyes slip down to the phone in your hand and you loosen your clutch.

"Seoul is far away from here".

"yeah, so?"

he raises his eyes to you. there's no doubt about it now.

"you think i can't stand up for myself?"

Seongjun scratches his neck slowly. either he's lost his job or sound designers don't have to see coworkers because he has this bristle on his neck going up to his chin. dark, spotty like he has tried shaving and gave up. a person in a state of mental distress, you realize slowly. suddenly, the coffeeshop doesn't seem so safe anymore.

you look at your phone. it's been five minutes. there are plenty of ways to keep him away. you could simply press the emergency and the siren will shatter even the windows in this place. the street is getting grey outside, marine birds flying low above the ground.

"i don't want to hurt you. but you piss me off so bad".

you're taken aback.

"do you even know my last name?"

he pierces you with his dark, unfriendly eyes. the kind of glance men used to give you back when they were boys and you pissed off everybody. you used to like to piss the boys off because they are usually stupid. grown men are way less irritating, they don't provoke and don't say silly smug shit - at least the men you actively choose to be in your life.

you realise that you have so few friends, and absolutely nobody in Busan. that your only best friend is Yuri and you don't know if you can still count Jimin as your number two, because you are not his number two anymore, and fairly so. somehow every Bangtan boy, once you leave his life, gets better. Taehyung gets himself into a stable relationship with the right gender, Jungkook becomes a father, and Jiminie follows. Hoseok only got richer these last two years and Jin simply got even more attractive, forgetting that people are supposed to age. Namjoon seems happier than ever without worrying about you all the time. and Yoongi is the only one who is a mystery to you. maybe he is the only one who feels your absence.

meanwhile Seongjun pronounces your last name, your birth date and your Seoul address, and then hits you by reciting your Busan address, too. you have no idea how long he's been here. whether he's looked into the windows of your apartment. you lean over the table. the time is crawling slowly. it feels like it has stopped.

"and what exactly did i do, may i ask, to anger you so bad?"

he meets your gaze bravely, eyes open only half-way. there's black circles beneath, he's chewing on his lips and looking at your mouth as he says,

"think you can do much better than me? been ignoring me forever".

"you should've been more intense", you hiss, not without a twisted joke in your words.

"i've been there and you never noticed me".

now he wants to get romantic. you throw yourself back on the chair. Yoongi isn't writing anything else, the phone is dead silent.

"oh, i know how it feels, believe me", you feel jaded. almost sorry for this awkward guy. he's massaging his hands on the table.

"yeah, pretty pathetic. but now we..." his eyes get glassy like he suddenly feels the pills kick in. "both are free, right?"

your brows shoot up.

"i've always been free".

"no", he says simply. like this piece of idiot is now going to be careful with his words to you, offer you the chance at dignity by not stating what he noticed while watching you for how many years?

"four years you worked there".

"i thought it was longer. what took you so long? could've come here and chop me in pieces a while ago", you poke him, then continue sipping your lemonade.

Seongjun shifts in his place.

"you're not the center of the universe".

your hand lies on the table.

"wait, you're telling me i am not even my own stalker's first choice?"

he gets flustered. angry. his brows crawl down to hood his eyes. square jaw gets tense. he didn't like that word. you feel the adrenaline kick you in the head stronger than a shot of vodka would now. you can't stop yourself.

"you're telling me you've been cheating on me with other girls?"

his nostrils flare.

"why aren't you responding to me?"

Seongjun's voice gets down an octave, resembling a rumble. a very different rumble, brutal, with less nuance. he is way too manly. he is way to big for you... you notice this too late. he's a big dude. used to measure people in Jungkooks, he has about 0,9 Jungkooks in him. he doesn't have the strength in his back though, slouching. his neck is exposed nicely. you know you're taking too much upon yourself but there's nothing else to do. it's been twelve minutes.

"don't call me that".

"call you what? a stalker?"

the corner of your mouth twitches.

"what else do you call a guy who leaves pathetic messages on the whiteboard and sends flowers saying he wants to lick my pussy?"

he knows you're mocking him. even his stupid face takes the expression of confusion. like he's saying, are you dumb? you won't even call for help?

he has no idea you have the unhinged inside of you, that's been waiting for its turn your whole life. every girl has that. not every girl is unlucky enough to get a chance to let it loose.

he takes a deep sigh like he is finding his patience.

"let's get to a clean slate".

"oh?"

he nods.

"you won't even choke me or anything?"

Seongjun is taken aback.

"why... why would i choke you?"

"um, because that's what stalkers usually do in movies", you finish you lemonade in one big gulp. the ice clinks inside.

Seongjun chuckles, dropping his chin down.

"i did want to hurt you before. do awful things to you. you were so arrogant".

you literally used to sing little songs to people at Hybe when you were in a good mood. and crash into closed doors. for some reason you hate it when people get the wrong impression of you. it makes you grit your teeth not to let a whole lecture come out of your mouth.

"but i am a better person now".

"honestly you look worse than before".

his eyes rise again. it's a rollercoaster. you don't know what you're doing. the frustration that you felt back then is coming back. the audacity to treat you like a sex object, immature pickup lines circling around, only one thing bothering his imagination. and the tone of voice, like he knows you.

"what? see, i remember you. i remember you used to go to gym with us".

"with you".

"with us, that's what i said".

he crashes his fist on the table, and the glass clinks again. a couple smooching over at the window turns to you and looks. you nod at them and motion to Seongjun.

"crazy stalker".

maybe they will-

the hit comes so quickly the world tilts upside down in a fraction of a second. see, that's the problem, if you do stupid shit, you get hit with a table.

for a moment, you can't breathe. a girl shrieks shortly somewhere; it's bells in your head. you have to come round quickly, your brain is on high alert, so your hands start getting you up before the vision returns. the head hums like a metal tube once and starts working again. face is burning. it's like getting out of bath and cracking your skull all over again.

the sling bag heaved up high on your chest actually saved your nose, pushed onto the table like a tit, and not letting you hit it all the way. instead, you feel the burning cut on your forehead, whether it's actual of perceived. blood is trickling down. suddenly, it's a whole different genre of a scene. your eyes open wide as you jump onto the table. instead of fear, rage kicks in. life has fucked you enough. Yoongi always told you to run away from the fight. to keep your head low. that you need to be smart, not hard. but guess all his advice got punched out of your head because you've had enough with these Korean men. hierarchical, patriarchal, smug, dismissive, condescending. you put your knee on the table and launch yourself at Seongjun who is more than ready for you. the cashier is a small girl, not bigger than you, who is hiding behind the register. the guy who is still in the coffeeshop by this time, together with his girlfriend, is a typical local: doesn't get involved. most people don't. they are too scared to get hit with a lawsuit should the fight be happening between spouses.

Seongjun, instead of catching you, pushes you away and then, as you fall on the floor from the table, laughs, grabbing your neck. but now there's finally a window for action: you're at his feet. you punch him in the nuts as hard as you can and, once his hand drops, you get yourself up and start running. phone is left on the table.

"call the police!" the girl by the window screams at her boyfriend. you sway from side to side, the blow on the head still clutching you violently. push the door and yank yourself into the empty, dark street. this is the household district and all action is happening at the center of the city. this is why you like this coffeeshop. there's nobody here at this time.

step by step, the blood is loud in your ears, adrenaline shaking the eyeballs, only keeping you dizzy instead of giving you energy to run. Seongjun is right behind you, slamming the door shut and following you.

sometimes running away seems hard. you run away often. metaphorically mostly. maybe you should've invested into running on the treadmill instead of just walking at the elevation. your feet carry you as best as they can, but Seongjun doesn't have a concussion so he can walk a straight line. the blood is sipping into your eyes and drops from the tip of the nose. his hand on your shoulder, pushing you aside and banging you into the metal surfacing of the shop closed for the night. your foot gives out and the ankle twists, knee bending onto the asphalt and of course catching your body from falling face down, but it scrapes the skin badly. it's like he is not a real human but a scripted villain; but then again you are not surprised because cheesy villains always have the real life prototypes.

it's getting pretty sticky, you think. the street is quiet and beautiful, the lights already lit and giving the illumination to the purple wisteria trees on the sides. you don't wanna die here. you shake your head, hands on the ground, as you steady yourself. Seongjun's hand is on the back of your neck possessively, and your nasty character kicks in again. one thing you probably value more than your life is your pride. it's an unpleasant and persistent instict that always complicates things when they need to be simple. nobody has the right to grab you by the neck unless you want them to. your arm flies up to grab him, but he slaps it away, and you play submissive for a moment, trying to open a window for escape. you can hear him breathe heavily, like he did during the waiting at the Grammy party. seems like you should've known, but it's an illusion of retrospective. you can taste the asphalt even though your face is not on the ground; thick, sweet and salty air of Busan summer is making you stronger, keeping you in an adequate mood, not letting you panic just yet. you fall on your stomach to startle him a little and he can't really see you well as he's bowing above you.

"look what you are doing", Seongjun murmurs. his voice drops a tad, he squats and his grip on the neck loosens. you don't think about Yoongi, can't let your brain lose the focus even for a second; you know he's far away, and it's somewhat a relief because you don't actually want him to get caught up in this. you behaved incredibly stupidly just now, letting your anger disproportional to your skill take over. let him mourn your stupid ass and move on.

as Seongjun bends his knees to squat, he loses about 50% of his balance, and you kick. he almost falls forward, catching himself on the ground, and you crawl violently, scraping your skin on the rough asphalt, from under him. burning sensation kicks you awake and you jump up and start running again, but get blinded by the lights. you can hear him rush after you immediately and head for the car, because it's better to be run over now. it gets a little windy, easier on your burning face. you fly towards the light like a moth, taking a little to the left to circle around it, and your heart drops to quiet when you see Yoongi emerge from a dark green Hyundai. your eyes adjust to the contrast of light and darkness. you move on, crashing into the side of it, the metal door meeting you as another hard, unwelcoming surface, and finally fall on the ground in a lump. Yoongi steps around you, eyes focused on Seongjun behind your back, as he raises his arm. heavy, cracking blow follows, and Seongjun gasps breathlessly, collapses on the road like a cardboard copy of himself. Yoongi ouches quietly, shakes his whole arm like he got zipped.

you pant so hard that everything is doubled. hands clutching your knees, palm dirty and stinging over the open cut, you feel the nasty pain but your brain fails to register what exactly is bothering you. people finally come out from the coffeeshop, and a scared female voice calls:

"i called the police".

"great", Yoongi replies breathlessly, "they can revoke my license right away".

he really did make it in thirty minutes. roads were empty, and he was going two hundred, he said. in a 120 maximum zone. his hand is rubbing his neck absent-mindedly. you force it to make your way to the police first to be done with Seongjun and make sure they won't let him walk in two hours after you leave. you can see Yoongi through the open door behind the officer's back, sitting by the wall on the hard iron chair, phone hanging from his other hand. no idea what he's thinking about. he's pretty. he's getting prettier by the minute since he knocked Seongjun out with one punch an hour ago. your head aches like hell, the spot at the roots of the hair pulsating where it hit the table. all things considered, you look worse than you feel. scraped knees hurt much worse now, plus, the shock starts kicking in. not even the scare that Seongjun gave you, but the strange vulnerability at being manhandled so aggressively. being pushed and punched like that, you like your whole self and feel sorry for yourself for being hurt. you keep answering the same questions over and over, almost automatically, stealing glances at Yoongi to keep you calm. his phone rings, and he starts staring somewhere away, in the direction of the reception. he gets angry. they did warn that, without extra evidence that Seongjun had stalked you like, years ago, in a different city, he will be let go until further notice, depending on how this case develops, if it even does. Yoongi's words ring in your ears, and you have to bite on your lips, thinking of the tone of his voice as he said,

"you know i can murder someone and pay my way out of it?"

you hate that you totally forget to not care about him now. now he is the safest, pushing his hair back in a familiar motion, sighing with his cheeks, knees spread apart, the assaulting fist working open and closed. he had said, fighting should hurt. you move your eyes to the officer's face mouthing words at you. you're finally done. suddenly tired, you feel like you have no capacity to argue, pressing the folded cloth a nice lady had given you, wet with cold water, to your head.

"home".

he sniffs, irritated.

"you might have a concussion".

"home", is all you can muster. adrenaline is gone, and pain reigns all over your body. you can't handle another couple of hours in a brightly-lit hospital, surrounded by more people asking questions, administering injections or whatever, you don't want it.

he opens the door of his car with a swing, this is the angriest you've seen Yoongi, ever. his jaw actually moves sideways like Namjoon's. he looks away, doesn't press it further. incredible how, when you're in the presence of an adult, he lets you choose, actually.

"what are you mad about?"

he tilts his head forward and pouts angrily. your leg is shaking, the little nasty pain in the cut is worse than the dull big pain in your head. Yoongi makes you take two pills of a strong painkiller. he keeps blowing on the knee that he's cleaning; no idea how you scraped it that bad and managed to get so much dust into. it must be the dry, rainless street and all that crawling around.

"nothing".

you hiss and notice tragically that he reacts every time; dabs become lighter. he dabs and rubs the cut the way people usually work on his face. it's fun noticing things like that, where he learnt them.

"you'll just tell me i am victim blaming you".

you chuckle through another huff.

"i did provoke him. hard".

"why'd you do it?"

"i don't know, maybe i am dumb".

his eyes study your face for a while, somber.

"or something worse".

he leaves the knee to rest for a while and gets to your hand. the inside of the palm is less injured, but also grey with dirt.

"and shoulder?"

"stop fussing", you ask. his brows shoot up. you see he takes it as an opportunity to release a little frustration.

"you think i'm overreacting? you're bleeding from your head".

"still?"

you raise your other hand to the head and touch the pained spot. a little bump starts forming and you reach for the bag with ice resting on the mirror shelf.

Yoongi suddenly sighs. he lets go of your palm midway, clutching the pad in his fist as his elbows rest on your knees. he drops his head on them. this is him finally exhaling for the first time tonight. hiding his face in your knees, his shoulders go up and down with deep regret. you want to apologize out of habit but you know there's nothing to apologize for. you're just glad he was there on time. your injured hand lies on the back of his head you used to know so well. remember every instance when he had dyed strands of hair peeking out here, now it's all natural black-brown. it's nice against the scraped skin. you still can't take what happened worse than the physical damage; you know the ptsd will kick in later, and the fright of being stalked might never settle. maybe it's just how you are; you've felt so cosy and protected while living in Seoul, you were surrounded by such loving people that you completely lost your caution. take this one: teleported from another city and ended the fight just at the right moment. and you are more concerned now about how his hair feels under your hand than about the concussion. you've had concussions before. you've never fallen in love with the same person twice.

Yoongi helps you into the bath where your body relaxes and the small abrasions sting, fresh, burning you, and keep you awake. the uneven ache at the top of your head is lulled down by painkillers. you think you're hearing the baby pears ring in the yard and tell him about it.

"pears?" he asks, eyes wide open, "ringing like bells?"

you give a small grin,

"it's probably just in my head".

Yoongi puts one hand on the edge of the tub, and his pink knuckles tense. they are slightly redder from the punch. he gets in your face.

"look to the side. now to the left. do you feel sick?"

you feel sick of his care. you don't mind him near, quite enjoy it, but his voice is too concerned. he lost his usual cool, and you know if the roles were reversed, you'd be even less collected, fretting around him. you shake your head no, something in his hand keeps drawing your glance. his phone rings and you can see it's his mother.

"Holly's sick", he says suddenly.

"how bad?"

"he's old", Yoongi replies, serious. he wipes one hand on the towel, still clutching the edge of the tub like it can slowly drift away from him. you sink deeper into the water, gritting your teeth, flinch with pain. he speaks with his mother quietly and you keep looking at his hand. it makes you angry. but more powerfully, it knocks the ground from under your feet. you'd rather still be in Seongjun's clutch than realize this now. it takes a specific life and death circumstance to shake the whole snow mountain awake. this is the hand that has the death grip on your throat. you've achieved nothing. nothing has been solved. he jumps out and does you a favour, and the timer is kicked back off to zero. all your effort, all the feeling of freedom, the determination to feel happier, gets smothered by this hand. his voice is a low, comforting rumble jumping off the walls of your bathroom. you move and place your forehead to his knuckles, close your eyes as tears release themselves onto his skin. it's all pointless; you love this hand too much and a little break just meant this love has grown and transformed into a deeper feeling. whatever that means. there's no escape, he feels and looks like a husband, sitting with one knee up, silver rings in his ear tugging on the tired earlobe.

Yuri snuck away from Jungkook for a moment, wrapped in her wedding dress like in a beautiful, sugary spider web, getting lost in her long veil and the flying sleeves. there's bright youthful blush on her cheeks, she's coming undone in front of him and understandably needs a second to gather herself. your bridesmaid dress is silky and yellow, her favourite colour. the color of Jungkook's voice.

he is striking, effortlessly magnetizing. you rest your eyes on him while Yoongi is a blood spot, making you anxious.

"you think it's fate after all?" you ask her quietly. someone snaps a pic of you two, huddling together, gossiping. Yuri doesn't drink so she has a glass of zero per cent champagne in her hand.

you feel too insecure to admit you acted completely blindly, acting out the delulu until trululu scenario you manifested for each other.

"because i'm starting to believe it".

she sips and nods.

"yea, i believe in fate", she sounds drunk. this is the most deliriously happy you've seen her. all exes are forgotten. all rainy days kicked to the side. "her name is y/n".

the picture of that moment is still in the favourites folder on your phone. the moment when Yuri called you fate. meaning, you are inevitable. you were inevitable in Jungkook's life span. your will to marry your best friend into wealth and exciting life was unavoidable. you always acted like that was the intelligent, highly-calculated plan you've had all along, and not a drunk fluke, a sudden enlightenment and a funny prank. "look who i picked up at the bar, lmao"

now the real fate has smacked you on the teeth. you think it's inexplicable otherwise, other than by fate. life really went on, huh. it released you of the shackles of anxiety about him. look, you withdrew from Yoongi and just continued living, and the parasite of love didn't vanish but retreated into the depths of your mind, like a shadow enemy or a habit. it's a bit tragic and very pretty to think about, how badly you wanted to survive and did it, changing at your own volition. it's such simple words that carry this genius truth: life goes on.

"it's okay", he says. Yoongi thinks you are finally coming to grips with the reality of what happened, finally feel the fright. you move your head slowly on his palm, gathering his little warmth.

"no, it's not okay", you whisper. Komangi the cat enters the bathroom and rubs his body against Yoongi's thigh.

it was never going to be okay, because Yoongi is beyond okay. he is the dream. the looming inevitability of your life.

the sleep hammers you into bed. you can't even move to find a more comfortable position, just switch off almost immediately. the last thing you see is the love of your life drawing the curtains, knowing that the sun will rise in several hours and burn your faces, like it did before.

taglist: @ktownshizzle , @benyhime , @ryryvna , @amarawayne , @mar-lo-pap , @lili-spots , @kiki-zb

#yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #bts imagine

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araneitela · 1 year ago

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WHICH SYMBOLIC FRUIT ARE YOU?

Cherry. (Man, this is going to need some tag rambling; because while it's what I suspected and it's very fitting in many ways, I need to address one element).

In popular culture, cherries have come to represent sensuality, sex, and seduction. In the cult classic, Twin Peaks, Audrey Horne expresses her sexual expertise by tying a cherry stem with her tongue. "Cherry" is also used to refer to the concept of virginity: why? I don't know to be honest, but here we are. Much like the cherry, you're a sensual person who enjoys all the creature comforts the world offers. You enjoy delicious food, dynamic relationships, passionate lovemaking and stimulating conversation; however, you may also come across a touch vapid or shallow, due to your quickly fading attention when something has served its usefulness to you. To quote some man on tinder: "you're here for a good time, not a long time". You can come across, at times, slightly tart, carrying a bit of a bite to you that not everyone can handle. That’s okay: you’re an acquired taste!

Tagged: @basbousah (Thank you 🩷) Tagging: I don't tend to tag for quizzes easily but this one was actually fun, so let's harass. @immobiliter (how about Furina?) @kushtibokt @genus83 @genius81 @spiderwarden @delusionaid (Wriothesley, or Zhongli— porque no los dos? 🤭) @apocryphis (Topaz) @aventvrina @resolutepath (Elio) @daybreakrising (Blade) @astrxlfinale @kahakera @cygnor @chasersglow @scrtilegii (Jing Yuan)... and anyone else who'd like to do it, say I tagged you because I'd love to see the results!

#[ games. ] the game only works when we follow the rules; though i'll be none the wiser if they're broken. let morality be your guide.#[ this has been open in a tab since yesterday. ]#[ okay but i actually /love/ this result. BUT LET ME SPECIFY-- to those who haven't read my other post. ]#[ please read 'sex' and 'seduction' through a very old fashioned lens. very old fashioned. ]#[ and then i think it's a lot more fitting. think film noir/1940s femme fatale /instead/ of the modern femme fatale and you got it. ]#[ seductive in the way that a woman can be inherently alluring. ]#[ sex in the way that it /is/ something she engages in. but in the way that one does without overindulging at all. no promiscuity. ]#[ i'm not saying religious-type 'it means everything'. but i'll forever live by that line by blade. ]#[ “she must have sought something extraordinary. everything she does comes at a great cost.” ]#[ the thing is-- he knows she lacks fear. so i don't see 'at a great cost' being a value tied to anything because of personal risk. ]#[ or fear of chasing after it. it also means something that it comes from blade. who likely also has an interesting tie to 'fear'. ]#[ but any way that means 'at a great cost' means investment/engagement (time. effort. sacrifice?) ]#[ which shows a deep rooted dedication to something. which speaks to me of a certain passion that needs to propel something like that. ]#[ and if we take passion into the equation-- then i think that fits for how she speaks and handles everything blade and tb-related. ]#[ then i also can see 'sex' very fitting. she would; when engaging in it; be incredibly all-encompassing but not in a 'dominatrix' way. ]#[ nor a traditional 'dominant' way. but simply incredibly present. engaged. passionate. ]#[ those two things can fit incredibly next to sensuality if you simply look at it from a specific lens that isn't casual and/or modern. ]#[ outside of that... dynamic relationships? ☑️ stimulating conversation? ☑️ which PLAYS INTO THE NEXT PART. ]#[ which is /yes/ she is bored. she gets bored. you /need/ to be able to stimulate her by having something of your own to interest her. ]#[ she also wouldn't/doesn't like people who serve her every whim. no. have your own interests. ]#[ as to elaborate on an acquired taste: she isn't everyone's cup of tea. if you don't have something that interests her-- you won't... ]#[ enjoy being around her. if she doesn't /like/ you. you won't think she's fun. in /that/ she's an acquired taste. ]#[ and has a bit of a bite. ]

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neverendingford · 8 months ago

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#tag talk #been doing some thinking now that I'm in a he/him state and very definitive ace for the foreseeable future #my therapist connected it back to validation and trauma response #because like.. the fawn response is very strong in me. but only when I'm she/her. he/him me is more fight #and a significant part of my sex drive is validation-seeking. the need to prove my competence at something.#and I still hyperfixate about sex regardless of whether or not I want to engage in it myself.#but the desire to engage in it feels more driven by a need to prove myself.#or prove to myself as the case may be #but the case fact remains that as R I feel a much higher social need whereas L feels much more independence #but L experiences much higher social anxiety and conflict versus R feeling much more social lubrication due to the fawn response #because I get the drive to make everyone like me. so much less anxiety because why worry? everyone loves me so no issue here #we're both flirty though. that doesn't change at all.#idk. how does this affect me going forward? how can I use this information to better live my life as happily as possible?#I definitely need to be more aware of the fawn response. I'm pretty on top of the reflexive fight response though.#I first recognized that back in 2019 so I've had plenty of time to work on it and I'm way less aggressive now than I used to be #but the people-pleasing is something I haven't really tackled yet so I guess that's my next big thing to analyze #maybe the answer is doing less to try and make people like me and accepting that I'm likeable anyway #but also recognizing that not everyone has to be in love with me #I don't need everyone to think I'm the best #I don't need to be in a popularity contest all the time #oh shit. I wonder if that's connected to my reaction after dipping my toes into polyamory.#because I have this drive to be the best compared to everyone else #and a drive to perform when I feel like I'm the center of attention #hmm. I feel like this is maybe connected to how I act when I'm groups. kind of an attention-whore #idk. I'm still pondering #anyway goodnight

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chuluoyi · 6 months ago

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𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑

- xavier x reader

a new friendly colleague has joined your team, but your boyfriend is convinced he is up to no good... and that's why xavier is determined to show it that you are his

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—jealousy, fluff explicit smut: slightly rough sex, fingering, doggy style, based on xavier's card misty silhouette

note: skxmskcjsf bye don't look at me. this fanart and xavier's card messed me up :') this banner is so unhealthy for me i swear </3

Xavier knew he wasn’t the most patient person.

But even patience, he thought, has limits. And he had been patient and reasonable for a week, to be precise.

It all started ever since that damned new recruit entered his team. He didn't know why, but he kept coming to you for everything—directions, advice, even trivial nonsense like lunch recommendations. It was almost as if on purpose.

This afternoon was no different. Xavier had been looking forward to having lunch with you—just the two of you. You’d promised him, after all.

And yet—

“There was this one time I got trapped inside the N109 Zone—”

“N109 Zone!?”

“Yes!”

“Really?! What did you do then?”

“Hmm, so at first, I was in total panic, but then—”

For the past 15 minutes, your lunch break had been taken over by recounting your tales of valor as a hunter to the new recruit. Nearby, Xavier sat in brooding silence, scathingly sparing him a glance. The slight frown on his face said it all—blatant disinterest and a touch of irritation.

And you too... why are you engaging him so enthusiastically?

Then again, given his age, Xavier knew he had to be mature about this. He tried, really. If it had been someone like Jeremiah, he might have let it slide.

But there was just something about this new recruit—Sean, was it?—that rubbed him the wrong way.

“Whoa, you're so cool, Miss Y/N!” Sean exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with admiration. “Not only are you pretty and talented, but you're also incredibly skilled! What do you even lack, eh?”

“Really, it's not that much,” you giggled, brushing him off. The way you got sheepish only made Xavier’s annoyance flare even further.

“Let me guess— a boyfriend!”

So that’s what it was. Now Xavier understood what about Sean that set him off. The entire time you’d been talking, he had been giving you those googly eyes.

He didn't like it one bit. He looked ridiculous while doing it.

Despite being silent as a mouse all the way, before he could stop himself, he blurted, “She has a boyfriend already.”

You turned to him in surprise, clearly not expecting him to announce it so bluntly.

“Oh...? Xavier, you know who her boyfriend is...?” Sean turned to him with curiosity.

He noticed it. How his expression fell ever so slightly upon he told him that you were already taken. Xavier huffed and stuffed his mouth with his ramen.

“Yeah. Her boyfriend lives next door.”

Technically, he lived upstairs, but the detail didn’t matter. He just needed to make his point known.

And somehow, for the rest of the day, the new recruit finally seemed to develop some sense—at least enough to stop hovering around you so frequently. Particularly when Xavier was nearby.

“Xavier... why did you tell him that?”

You fell into step beside your quiet boyfriend as the two of you headed home that evening, tilting your head as you replayed the events of the afternoon.

Xavier gave you a brief glance before looking straight ahead again, ignoring your question.

You observed him. There it was again—that gray cloud hovering over him. It always seemed to appear when he was in a bad mood.

Puckering your lips, you pressed further. “We haven’t even told anybody else about our relationship... And what you did there—you’re literally telling him we’re dating.”

“So what?” he shot back, his tone sharper than usual. “Are you afraid people might find out we are? Or—”

Xavier abruptly stopped in his tracks, turning to face you. His usually vibrant blue eyes darkened, piercing into yours with a sharp gleam. “Are you afraid he will find out?”

There was something in his gaze that held you captive—that made your silly heart skip a beat.

“N-no...” you looked away, swallowing the heat that were about to take over your face. Why does Xavier look kind of... hot like that...?

Your cheeks warmed regardless, but you had to appease him. “Like I told you before, I just thought it’d be easier if this stays our little secret. It’s less of a bother if they don’t know…”

Reaching for his hand, you gave it a reassuring squeeze and flashed him a soft smile. “Besides, why would I be afraid if he knows? My boyfriend is cool, handsome, and the best hunter there is.”

You watched as Xavier's expression softened, the tension melting away. A faint blush crept up his cheeks too, and the gray cloud that had loomed over him finally disappeared. He squeezed your hand in return, looking away as if to hide the way he got bashful.

Adorable. For all his brooding, your boyfriend was surprisingly easy to soothe.

For the rest of the walk back to your apartment, you two remained hand-in-hand, the tension of the afternoon slipping away with each step.

. . .

You were staying over at Xavier's place tonight. After a relaxing bath and a hearty dinner, the two of you found yourselves standing side by side in the kitchen, doing the dishes together.

It was mundane things like this that Xavier considered his favorite routine to do with you. Just as you handed him the last plate to dry, you spoke up, your voice breaking the quiet hum of contentment—

“Xavier, can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?”

“I was just thinking... Sean seems nice and friendly, but from what I’ve seen, you seem kind of... unwelcoming— almost hostile even towards him.”

At your words, a frown etched itself onto Xavier’s forehead as he turned to face you fully. You seemed so oblivious, standing there with a look of genuine curiosity.

“Do you really not know?” he questioned you incredulously.

You blinked. “Know what?”

Damn it. Xavier sighed and put down the dish he was holding, but the words faltered on his tongue as a sour expression crossed his face. “No matter,” he muttered under his breath.

He took a deliberate step closer, his movements slow and heavy, and you instinctively backed away—

“So,” he said, his voice low, his blue eyes boring into yours as he took one hot step forward after another, “while Sean is nice and friendly, I’m hostile and unwelcoming, huh?”

—only to find yourself pressed against the window, unable to retreat further.

He stood in front of you now, his arms caging you in, creating a barrier that sealed off any chance of escape.

Uh-oh. Apparently, you had flipped that switch—

The air between you grew thick, and you could feel your pulse quicken under the weight of his gaze. “That’s not what I'm getting at—”

“He’s been eyeing you all day, following you around... getting lunches with you—”

In that moment, your phone erupted to life, its ringtone cutting through the tension. It sat on the small table near the windowsill, and Xavier gave it a quick glance, his expression darkening upon seeing Sean's name flash on the screen.

“Oh?” His voice dropped lower, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes. “He’s now calling you at nights too?”

“No!” you quickly refuted, your words tumbling out almost too fast. “Xavier, don’t get the wrong idea—”

He tilted your jaw to face him, holding your spooked gaze. “Then what idea am I supposed to be getting when he’s so blatantly pursuing you and you don't even do anything about it?”

The plot twist is... you know. Of course you knew it when a guy was trying to make a move on you, you just pretended not to notice it because it was easier that way. You didn’t know which devil had planted this rotten idea in your head that made you want to push Xavier to the edge, just to see how he'd react when he held nothing back—

The call tonight was a coincidence though, but definitely fueled your lover's ire even more. It was a dangerous game, but now that you’d crossed this line, you couldn't go back any longer.

Your lips curled into a bewitching smile then, and your boyfriend was almost mystified. "So, what will you do to me?"

Xavier looked at you with slightly widened eyes, not expecting your boldness at all. But then he grimaced, as at the same time, the irritation in his veins suddenly flared up—

With a swift, fluid motion, he turned you that you faced the window, his right arm wrapping around your waist from behind as he pressed his body against yours—his hardness pressing, almost poking you.

“You’re so clueless,” he growled into your ear before going after your neck, sucking hard and fast. His hips began to grind against you, pressing harder with each movement. “Too damn clueless...!”

His fingers that gripped your belly moved then, slipping inside your frisky nightgown to finger you— and you lost all your wits in that instant. “Ah-h—!”

Two of his fingers pumped in and out of you, dragging them almost rashly, and it took everything in you to stay upright. "X-Xavier!"

“Mmph,” he breathed against the skin of your neck, his other arm pressing you against him tighter, simultaneously squeezing your breasts. "You asked for it."

Your thighs were trembling in no time, and your breaths came in shaky moans. Your boyfriend was not exactly gentle, but this is probably the first time in a while that he was being rough without reservations. While you wanted to protest, it felt too good—

He turned your face towards him then, crashing his lips on yours.

It almost felt like you were punished, but you couldn't do anything about it. The tension in your lower belly was steadily building, ready to snap at any moment, and the way his fingers relentlessly hitting that one unforgivable spot was starting to made you dizzy.

"Ah—ngh!" You finally shuddered when you reached your climax. It was freeing when you felt yourself burst on his fingers, the release smearing your thighs.

And right then your knees buckled—

But Xavier immediately got a secure hold over you, lifting your body effortlessly into his arms, one hand supporting your knees, the other cradling your back. Through your teary eyes, you met his gaze once more. His expression was unreadable, a dark haze of disapproval clouding his features.

“I’m not done yet.”

He brought you over to his bed, gently lying you down despite the roughness of his voice. He parted your legs, getting himself between them—

Ring! Ring!

The shrill sound of your phone pierced the coolness of the room, and you almost jolted.

But your lover... the sound was like a spell to him, only intensifying his irritation as his features twisted with frustration, and you knew that he was about to take it on you.

As if changing his mind, Xavier suddenly flipped you over that you laid on your stomach and straddled you from behind. He quickly turned your head to face him and claimed your lips in a deep, urgent kiss.

“Mm, hmmp—!” The ringtone of your phone blared in the background, a jarring sound that wasn't pleasant at the slightest. It wasn’t until it finally stopped that he pulled away from the kiss.

You were gasping for breath, your chest heaving, and a stray tear slipped from your eyes. Xavier stared at you, and gently wiped it away with his thumb.

Flushed, sweaty, tearful... you looked so enchanting in his eyes in that moment. He almost felt bad that he had manhandled you this roughly.

Almost.

His hands gripped your waist, and he paused, his gaze locked with yours, silently seeking your approval— or more like, commanding you to give it to him.

In response, you arched your back— a silent affirmation, bracing yourself.

From then on, he was no longer holding back. He tugged your panties down and let his throbbing member out of his pants. It was laughable how insatiable he was— both of you were still clothed, save for his unbuttoned shirt, but he was already this aroused and hard.

He nudged forward, his tip breaching your entrance. The feeling of that familiar stretch left you keeling, babbles and whimpers falling from your lips as he slowly eased into you.

It was hard to take him in fully, and you were a mess of breathy gasps the moment you did. But you were in for the main ride when he started ramming into you, pushing in and out of you in a merciless pace.

"Ah... Xavier!" you panted between thrusts, feeling how it started to be too much for you the more he went on. "Ahh, hrah!"

Behind you, Xavier groaned in reply, his lips sucking your shoulder as his hips quickened, striving to bring you to the peak faster. One of his large hands dug into the skin of your stomach, urging your back to arch more, while the other clasped yours, fingers entwined in the sheets.

He watched intently as your face twisted and contorted in ecstasy, a surge of pride swelling within him, greater than he thought possible.

It was mind-blowing, slightly forceful, and your senses were all heightened. The harsh pace drew cries from your lips, your tears falling to the sheets, yet the pleasure also catapulted you into the stars—

The sinful delight of having him so deep within you.

The sinful rapture of being thrusted over and over.

“Ahhh!” And then, all at once, it was as if heaven and hell collided in a cataclysmic burst. Everything inside you shattered as you cried out—a scream morphing into a high-pitched gasp—as the two of you reached the climax together. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your walls clasped around him impossibly tight as Xavier filled you with everything that he had in one shot.

You collapsed against the sheets like a ragdoll, the pressure finally easing from your sore spine.

“Hello? Yes, it’s Xavier...”

The morning after. You stirred awake, your mind still foggy with sleep, as muffled voices filtered in from outside the bedroom.

“I have to take an urgent leave today...”

You were still utterly drained, your body heavy and unwilling to move. Instinctively, your hand reached out to your side, searching for your lover, but the spot was empty.

“Yes. Y/N too. She isn’t well today... We will be back tomorrow...”

You let out a soft, tired whine, your voice plaintive, as you lay sprawled across the bed, wishing for his warmth to return. Honestly, everything was still sore, and you were this close to tears again.

The door then opened with a creak not long after, and you let out a whimper, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Are you awake...?” Xavier's voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he stepped closer to the bed.

You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry. He was already dressed, his crisp appearance in stark contrast to your disheveled state. In his hand, he held a small plastic bag.

“What’s that...?” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as you struggled to prop yourself up, curiosity flickering through your tired gaze.

“Don’t get up too quickly,” Xavier murmured, his hands steady as he caught you mid-movement. He guided you back down and tucked the blankets snugly around you, his touch gentle yet firm. “Just rest for now.”

A low hum of contentment escaped you as you leaned into his touch. Your bleary eyes focused solely on him, and despite himself, Xavier found a smile tugging at his lips.

“I just went to the drugstore downstairs to get you some painkillers,” he explained, lifting the small plastic bag slightly. “Take them after you’ve had some breakfast later.”

He then fixed you a bashful grimace, looking down. “Sorry for... uh, last night... I think I’ve pushed you too far.”

His fingers reached out, brushing gently against your cheek. The same fingers that had driven you to the brink of madness the night before now so tender against your skin. “You were crying,” he murmured, guilt lacing his voice. “I feel bad.”

“Mm-hm, so that’s what happens when you don’t hold back at all,” you snickered softly, the corners of your mouth curving despite the lingering ache in your body.

Xavier shifted his gaze away, his confidence faltering. “Will you... hate me for it?”

It was hard to contain your smile from breaking out into a grin. Your boyfriend, a ferocious wolf in a sheep’s clothing, had no need for this shy charade when he had railed you that hard last night.

“No, but you’re going to have to make it up to me. I can’t even walk now.”

Xavier blinked before he patted your head. “Yeah, I’ll fulfill any of your wishes,” he sighed in relief, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “So, what is it?”

You paused for a moment, then with a mischievous glint in your eye, you said, “Take me to the bathroom? I want to have a shower first.”

And, of course, he obliged. With a effortless motion, Xavier scooped you up into a princess carry, holding you close. His arms cradled you with care, and you rested against his chest, the warmth of his embrace offering a sense of security.

Just like that, you spent the rest of the day as lovers, sleeping in with careless abandon, unburdened by your duties.

Epilogue

Later in the afternoon, you were once again deep in a sleep as Xavier cuddled you close, when suddenly the doorbell of his apartment rang incessantly.

Frowning, Xavier carefully eased himself out of bed, making sure not to disturb your slumber. He moved quietly towards the door, and when he saw the intercom, his frown worsened.

Sean, the newbie, was at his doorstep. He had half a mind to ignore him, but after a beat, he decided to open the door.

“What do you want?” his voice sharp with annoyance.

“Oh, Xavier!” The guy was stunned for a moment as his eyes lingered on Xavier’s chiseled abs, exposed through the his unbuttoned shirt. “O-oh, so... I’ve been trying to ring the doorbell to Y/N's apartment to give her a fruit basket to wish her a fast recovery, but she’s not answering—” he hastily explained, gesturing toward the basket in his hand. “Can you reach her—?”

Xavier felt like popping a vein at how meddlesome this guy was. Was this guy an idiot? Didn’t he realize by now that he was your next-door boyfriend?

Nevermind. The hard way it is.

“She’s with me.”

“H-huh?”

He shot him a pointed look. “Don't think you’ll have a chance with her, newbie.”

And with that, he shut the door in his face.

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fanficgirl429 · 28 days ago

Text

Super Solider Stamina

Pairing: fem!reader x Bucky Barnes

Prompt: Y/N reveals too much information about her and Bucky's sex life to Yelena and Ava and Bucky get's revenge

Warnings: Mentions of sex, 18+ only, minors do not engage

-----

Y/N was lounging upside-down on the Avengers Tower couch, legs hanging over the backrest, hair brushing against the floor, and a knowing smirk plastered across her face. In front of her, Yelena sat cross-legged with a tub of ice cream in her lap, while Ava flipped through a magazine she clearly wasn’t reading.

"You two are so tense," Y/N declared, pointing a spoon at them. “You both need to go out and get laid. Seriously.”

Yelena didn’t look up. “And we’re starting here, why?”

“Because this is an intervention,” Y/N said, straightening dramatically. “You’re both walking nerve bundles. I swear I can hear Ava’s spine grinding. And Yelena, you flinched when the toaster popped this morning.”

“It was loud,” Yelena snapped.

“Exactly my point. What you need isn’t therapy, or more combat training. What you need is a hot, completely forgettable one-night stand with someone who knows what they’re doing and isn’t afraid to ruin your life for one night.”

Ava raised an eyebrow. “And this is coming from the woman who’s dating America’s Broodiest Man.”

“Exactly!” Y/N beamed. “Bucky was broody. Now? He’s relaxed. Smiles more. Sleeps better. He even jokes.”

Yelena looked suspicious. “What did you do to him?”

Y/N leaned in with a wicked grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Oh no,” Ava said immediately. “Don’t. Don’t you dare.”

“I’m just saying,” Y/N went on, not afraid to share any details about her sex life, “there’s something exhilarating about being pinned down by a supersoldier.”

Yelena gagged. “Please stop.”

"I’m dead serious. One night with him, and I finally understood what super soldier stamina really means. He doesn’t stop. Not until your legs are shaking, your voice is wrecked, and your body forgets what rest feels like. Three orgasms? Minimum. Coherent thought? Not happening for at least twenty-four hours. He’s relentless, in the best, most devastating way possible."

Ava blinked. “Three?”

Y/N nodded. ""And that’s before he even takes the shirt off. Once it’s gone and you see all that hard muscle and barely restrained control, it’s over. He pins you with that look—hungry, possessive—and suddenly your back’s against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist, and he’s fucking you like he has something to prove. His stamina is unreal—relentless thrusts that leave you shaking, his mouth everywhere, dragging orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re crying his name and can’t remember your own."

Yelena dropped her spoon. “That’s too much visual. Too much detail. I'm still a child in some countries.”

Y/N was on a roll now, unbothered. “One time? He…used the vibranium arm as leverage, braced me against the glass, and said—”

The elevator doors slid open with a gentle ding.

The man of the hour, Bucky Barnes stepped in, toweling off his hair, dressed in joggers and a dark henley, walking toward the kitchen but stopping when he heard the word “leverage.”

He paused.

Three sets of eyes locked onto him.

“...What did I just walk into?” he asked cautiously.

Y/N lit up. “Hey, babe! We were just talking about you.”

Yelena threw the pillow at her. “She’s telling us war crimes.”

Ava was smirking at Bucky, revealing she knew way too much about him. “Y/N said that you have amazing stamina and that you’re vibranium arm--”

Bucky turned bright red. “I—what? Wait. Y/N!”

Y/N shrugged innocently. “What? I’m helping! They’re stressed. They need to relax. I’m offering inspiration.”

“I did not consent to being used as Exhibit A in your sex-ed TED Talk!” Bucky barked, now clearly panicking.

“Too late,” Yelena muttered. “You’re a whole case study now.”

“I’m leaving,” Bucky muttered, already walking backward toward the elevator. “You’re all insane.”

“Love you!” Y/N called after him.

Bucky paused, pointing at her. “You’re getting payback.”

“I hope so,” she smirked.

The elevator doors shut behind him.

Ava slowly turned to Y/N. “So... back to this leverage thing…”

Yelena held up her hand. “No. We’re going to a bar. We’re finding someone hot. And I’m doing whatever they say—as long as it doesn’t involve windows, or vibranium.”

Y/N pumped her fist. “That’s the spirit.”

---

The team was mid-briefing in the tower’s war room, the kind with the 3D holograms, the giant table, and an overwhelming amount of caffeine. Y/N sat between Yelena and Ava, twirling a pen like she wasn't already bored out of her mind.

Walker was talking and clicking through intel slides. Bob was silently judging everyone.

And Bucky?

Bucky was biding his time.

He leaned back in his chair, arms folded casually, watching Y/N with a small, unreadable smirk on his face. She hadn’t noticed yet. But Yelena did.

Something was coming.

Walker cleared his throat. “So our next op involves infiltration through a three-story compound—minimal cover, tight corridors. We’re thinking two-person teams. Standard breach and clear—”

Bucky casually raised a hand. “Can I make a team suggestion?”

Walker looked up. “What’re you thinking?”

Bucky smiled. “I should probably pair up with Y/N. She’s good at close-quarters work.”

Y/N arched a brow. “I’m flattered, babe.”

Bucky kept going. “And she’s excellent under pressure. Real flexible. Knows how to adapt to… tight spaces.”

Yelena immediately started choking on her water.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” Bucky innocently said. “Just giving the team some context for why I think we work well together. Like that time in Berlin—what was it you said? ‘You handle the top, I’ll take the bottom’?”

Ava’s mouth dropped open.

Walker blinked slowly. “I’m…gonna pretend that was tactical.”

Bucky smiled. “Oh, it was very… hands-on.”

Y/N’s face was flaming. “James Buchanan Barnes, I will kill you.”

“Oh no,” he said, leaning back. “You’re the one who decided to give my resume out like free samples at Costco. This is me… networking.”

Bob tilted his head, intrigued. “This is more entertaining than the actual mission.”

Ava tried not to laugh and failed. “You two need couple’s therapy or a reality show. Maybe both.”

Yelena was wheezing. “I told her payback was coming.”

Bucky turned to Y/N with a shit-eating grin. “You really should warn them about how loud you are during recon missions. Could compromise the whole operation.”

Y/N kicked him under the table so hard that Ava’s water bottle rattled.

“Oops,” she said sweetly. “Tactical reflex.”

Walker stared down at his notes. “I’m begging you. Keep the flirting PG until after we clear the building.”

“I can’t make promises,” Y/N muttered, glaring at her boyfriend, who looked way too pleased with himself.

“Good,” Bucky said, cracking his knuckles. “I like when you’re angry. Makes the mission more… physical.”

Yelena stood up. “I’m leaving. I can’t do this. I need bleach. Or a priest.”

Ava followed, eyes wide. “We were not ready for this level of revenge.”

Y/N slumped back in her chair, groaning. “I liked you better when you were emotionally repressed.”

Bucky leaned over and whispered in her ear, “You’re gonna like me even better tonight.”

Her pen snapped in half.

Walker, already regretting his life choices, said, “Next time, I’m assigning you to separate continents.”

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heavenlybodies333 · 4 months ago

Text

Virgin Fucking Mary - M.R.

she told you she’s celibate, but she told me I can rail her shit

Theo had been your best friend since before either of you could properly walk, a bond that never wavered, even as you grew older and Hogwarts became your shared stomping ground. Your friendship was simple, easy—even if he did have a habit of oversharing details of his sex life that you could really, really do without.

You were sitting with Theo, Enzo, and Blaise at the Slytherin table, picking at your food while Theo recounted—far too enthusiastically, might you add—his latest escapade.

"Mate, I swear, I had her begging—"

"Merlin, Theo," you groaned, stabbing a piece of fruit with your fork. "Honestly, I don’t know why you put yourself in these positions when you know you're leading these girls on."

Theo just grinned, unbothered. “Can’t help it, darling. You know how they get when I—”

"You ever try talking to these girls first? Or is it straight to sticking your dicks down their throats?" Before you could roll your eyes, a presence dropped into the seat beside you. The scent of smoke and something inherently masculine curled around you, the unmistakable cologne of Mattheo Riddle invading your senses.

"What's this, then?" His voice was low, amused as he reached over, stealing a chip off your plate. "You giving Nott a lecture on morality, princess?"

You exhaled sharply through your nose, refusing to turn toward him. “Just asking if you whores ever have a conversation with a girl instead of thinking with your—” his hand reached over your plate once again, taking another chip.

"Now, where’s the fun in that?" he mused, popping it into his mouth.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to engage. "Of course you would say that, Riddle."

Theo let out a loud, amused groan, smacking the table. "Alright, alright, calm down, Thou Holy Virgin Mary"

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

Blaise shook his head, laughed under his breath. Enzo snorted into his drink.

But Mattheo—Mattheo—practically collapsed against the table, laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his seat. "No fucking way," he wheezed, pressing a hand to his chest as he recovered.

Your cheeks burned. The heat spread down your neck, prickling against your skin, but you refused to let it show.

"You lot are laughing at me," you huffed, tossing your fork onto your plate, "but at least I don’t have to worry about pushing a fucking kid out of me anytime soon."

Mattheo snorted, his amusement shifting into something more smug. "Yeah, okay, princess," he drawled, leaning into your space. His voice was low, teasing, but his eyes were sharp, glinting with something dark. "No wonder you’re so uptight. Explains why you’re such a bitch."

That pissed you off.

You turned to him slowly, eyes narrowing, expression carefully composed despite the way anger coiled hot in your gut. The others had already lost interest, falling back into their own conversations.

“Oh, I’ll have you know, Riddle,” you said, voice low, syrupy-sweet. “A girl can take matters into her own hands.”

Mattheo blinked. Just once.

You didn’t wait for a response. You stood smoothly, grabbing your book bag, and just for good measure, you leaned down just enough to let your lips ghost near his ear.

"You’d be surprised what I can do without a man."

And then? You walked away. Swaying your hips. Feeling his eyes burn into your back.

By the time you reached the door, you dared one last glance over your shoulder.

And there it was.

Mattheo, still seated, still staring, his expression caught somewhere between surprised and fuck, I’m turned on.

It was late, the library was completely empty with the exception of those in the moving portraits keeping you company. Most students had long since gone to bed, leaving only a dim glow of candlelight flickering between the shelves.

And you weren’t stupid. You had felt it.

The shift in the air. The way the back of your neck tingled. The weight of a stare burning between your shoulder blades.

You knew it was him.

Still, you pretended not to notice. You turned the page of your book, eyes trained on the words, until—

“Taking matters into your own hands, huh?”

His voice was low. Smooth. Dark with something predatory.

You didn’t jump. Didn’t react. Just hummed, dragging your gaze lazily up to where he stood.

Mattheo leaned against the bookshelf, arms crossed, dark curls falling into his eyes.

You raised a brow. “Something you need?”

His lips curved. “I think you know exactly what I need.”

A slow heat curled in your stomach. You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What, Riddle? A book? Help with your homework?”

Your breath hitched as he stepped closer, caging you against the table. His hands found the wood, fingers curling against it as he leaned down—so close you could feel his breath against your cheek.

You refused to look up. Refused to acknowledge the warmth pooling low in your stomach.

But Mattheo? He knew.

“I’ve got a better idea,” he murmured.

His fingers brushed your thigh.

You swallowed hard. “And what’s that?”

Mattheo tilted his head, eyes flickering between yours and your mouth.

“You can show me,” he murmured. “How you take matters into your own hands.”

He saw the way your fingers twitched against the table. The way your lips parted just slightly, as if debating whether to let yourself fall or run. And, like the smug bastard he was, he waited.

“Nothing to say?” he mused, his breath brushing the side of your jaw. His fingers drummed against the wood, lazy, slow. “Funny. You had plenty to say at lunch.”

The heat between you was unbearable. His knee pressed between your legs, just enough to send a spike of need through you, but not enough to satisfy the ache building low in your stomach.

Mattheo saw.

Felt it.

And then—he pushed deeper.

“I bet you like it,” he murmured, dragging his nose along the curve of your jaw. “Being the good little princess. The one no one can touch. The one no one fucks.”

Your breath hitched.

“Bet you get yourself off thinking about it, don’t you?” His lips brushed just against your ear. “How desperate they’d be to ruin you?”

You clenched your teeth, refusing to give him the reaction he wanted.

He saw it anyway.

Felt the way your body betrayed you, thighs squeezing around the knee he’d wedged between them, the pulse of your breath, the heat rolling off you in waves.

Mattheo hummed, pleased.

Then, before you could react, his hand slid under your skirt.

You gasped. “Mattheo—”

But he wasn’t listening.

“I mean, let’s be honest, yeah?” His knuckles brushed the inside of your thigh. “A girl can take matters into her own hands, sure—but it’s not the same, is it?”

He leaned in, lips barely brushing your ear. dragging his fingers higher, pressing against the damp fabric of your underwear.

“Look at that,” he mused. "Virgin Mary isn’t so innocent after all."

Your fingers curled against the table. "I will kill you."

He just laughed, dark and low. "Yeah? You gonna do it with my fingers in your cunt, or after I fuck you stupid?"

Your brain short-circuited.

Mattheo used your stunned silence to his advantage, slipping his fingers beneath your underwear, dragging them through the slick pooling between your thighs.

"Fuck, Mattheo—"

He hums, watching your face, the way your lips part, the way your brows pull together in pleasure.

"You’re soaked," he smirks. "Thought you didn’t like me."

"I don’t like you," you pant, back arching as his fingers move faster, working you open, leaving you breathless.

He laughs. "Sure, princess."

He pulls his fingers out, and you whimper at the loss, at the emptiness. But then he’s undoing his belt, pushing his slacks down just enough, and your stomach tightens at the sight of him—thick, hard, leaking at the tip.

Mattheo catches your gaze, smirking. "You’re staring."

You roll your eyes, even as you hook your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Are you gonna talk all night, or are you gonna—fuck—"

Because he’s already sliding inside, pushing into you inch by inch, stretching you open in the most devastating way.

"Shit," he groans, hands gripping your thighs. "So fucking tight."

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, head falling back as he fills you completely. You feel everything—the way he pulses inside you, the way his breath stutters against your neck, the way he’s holding himself back, barely resisting the urge to ruin you.

"Mattheo," you whisper. "Deeper, please—"

Something in him snaps.

His grip tightens, and then he’s fucking you—hard, deep, brutal. Every thrust shoves you harder against the wall, knocking the breath from your lungs. You cling to him, nails raking down his back, thighs trembling.

"That what you want?" he rasps, snapping his hips forward, making you cry out. "You want me to fuck you deeper?"

You can’t answer. Can’t think. All you can do is take it, take him, let him fuck you so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat.

"Should’ve known," he mutters, biting down against your shoulder. "All that attitude—just a needy little slut underneath, huh?"

You whimper, gasping his name, digging your heels into his lower back, urging him closer, deeper.

Mattheo groans, pulling back just enough to look at you—your lips swollen, your pupils blown wide, your expression absolutely wrecked.

"Fuck," he mutters. "You look so good like this. Bet Theo would kill me if he knew."

You’re too far gone to care.

"Don’t stop," you plead, voice breaking.

He doesn’t.

He fucks you through it, fucks you until you’re falling apart around him, nails dragging down his spine, thighs squeezing tight around his waist as your orgasm rips through you.

"You feel that?" His voice was wrecked, panting, his forehead dropping against your shoulder as he buried himself inside you. "That’s what it’s like when a real man fucks you, sweetheart."

Mattheo groans at the feeling, his pace stuttering, his grip bruising. And then he’s spilling inside you, breathless and wrecked, pressing his forehead against yours as he cums, his thrusts erratic as they slowed.

You were still catching your breath, skirt bunched around your waist, Mattheo’s hands gripping your thighs with a possessive kind of desperation. As he finally pulled out, breath heavy against your ear. A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned back, taking in the sight of you—disheveled, marked up, and absolutely wrecked beneath him.

His fingers brushed over your thigh before he whispered, “Was that your first?” His voice was dripping with smugness, already assuming he knew the answer. “Did you like it?”

You tilted your head up at him, amusement flickering in your eyes. Oh, Mattheo…

“Do you really think I’d lose my virginity to you?” you mused, voice laced with sweet mockery as you reached for your skirt, slipping it back on with slow, deliberate movements. You adjusted it, smoothing out the creases, completely unfazed by the way his expression darkened.

Mattheo’s smirk faltered. “What?”

His expression shifted—something sharp, something dark. "What the fuck does that mean?"

You grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder with an easy smirk. "It means, sweetheart," you said, voice dripping with faux sympathy, "that you really should have a chat with Theo sometime."

His brows furrowed, confusion flickering before realization settled in like a slow-burning fire.

"Oh," you mused, tapping your chin like you were deep in thought. "You don’t know about him, do you? About how he doesn't really get the whole 'kiss and don’t tell' thing?"

You slung your bag over your shoulder, taking your time fixing your hair in the reflection of a nearby window. turning to face him, "I don’t kiss and tell—but unfortunately for you, Theo definitely does." you said sweetly.

His brows furrowed. "Theo—what the fuck are you talking about?"

You leaned in, just close enough that he could smell the faint hint of perfume on your skin, the remnants of whatever sin you two had just committed. "Ask him about me sometime," you murmured, a smirk playing at the edges of your lips. "I’m sure he’d love to share the details."

You turned to leave, but not before tossing one last dagger straight at his ego. “Oh, and Mattheo?” You glanced over your shoulder, giving him one last look-over. "Next time, try lasting longer."

Then you walked out, leaving him alone in the dim glow of the library—jaw tight, fists clenched, drowning in the bitter aftertaste of his own ego—because for once in his life, Mattheo Riddle wasn’t the one doing the ruining.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: slut me out

here’s part 2 for you whores

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅ: @ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ

MASTERLIST

#mattheo riddle #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle x you #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #slytherin boys #slytherin #mattheo x y/n #mattheodore #divider creds: cafekitsune #theodore nott

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enhaflixer · 4 months ago

Text

psh - king of tears.

Chaebol Husband!Sunghoon | Queen of Tears AU FULL FIC

📌 summary: your marriage to park sunghoon was supposed to be a fairytale—until it wasn’t. now it’s cold stares across the dinner table, separate bedrooms in a mansion too big for the both of you, and divorce papers waiting to be signed. you were ready to walk away. he let you. so why does he look at you like he’s the one who lost everything?

word count: 20K genre: angst | slow burn | second chance romance | marriage in crisis | Queen of Tears AU | SMUT ANGST FLUFF (in that order) content warnings (explicit, minors dni!): a marriage falling apart but neither of you can let go, divorce papers as a weapon but neither of you sign them first, staring at an empty side of the bed and pretending it doesn’t hurt, pregnancy, watching him struggle alone but being too proud to help, , high society pressure, and pretending everything is fine when it’s not, angst-heavy sex (sex while crying, sex while angry, sex while pretending it doesn’t mean anything) "we’re supposed to be over, so why are you still fucking me like you love me?" breathless, mentions of a miscarriage, desperate sunghoon (bc when he breaks, he breaks) sunghoon is sick, weak, exhausted—but still strong enough to pin you down "i don’t love you anymore." // "then stop moaning my name.", luxury penthouse sex but it’s tragic, a hand around your throat but it’s not just about control—it’s about possession, he fucks you like he’s trying to remind you who you belong to, aftercare that isn’t really aftercare bc he still won’t say he loves you,

The room is filled with laughter, delicate clinks of fine china and crystal flutes, and the low hum of a jazz quartet playing something elegant and forgettable in the background. The city’s elite have gathered here tonight—not just business moguls, but socialites, investors, and politicians, all dressed in designer labels, all engaged in carefully curated conversations.

The air is thick with power and wealth, a reminder of the world you and Sunghoon exist in. A world where appearances matter more than emotions, where a marriage is not just about love, but about status, about alliances.

You’re used to this now—the expectations, the smiles, the weight of scrutiny disguised as admiration. You’ve mastered the art of being Park Sunghoon’s wife.

Sunghoon stands beside you, dressed in a sleek black suit, looking every bit the composed, untouchable CEO that people admire and envy in equal measure. His features are as sharp as ever, but there’s something distant in his gaze, something almost clinical in the way his hand rests lightly against the small of your back.

To an outsider, it’s a gesture of affection. A claim. A reminder that you belong to each other.

To you, it’s just for show.

"Smile."

His voice is low, quiet enough that no one else hears. It’s not a request. It’s a command.

Your lips curl into something effortless, something practiced. It’s not real, but it doesn’t need to be.

"Ah, our favorite couple has arrived," a familiar voice calls from across the room.

Turning toward the source, you’re met with the warm but calculating gaze of Chairman Park, Sunghoon’s father. His mother stands beside him, dressed immaculately as always, a refined smile on her lips.

"We were wondering when you two would make your grand entrance," she says smoothly, reaching out to take your hands in hers.

Her grip is light, delicate. Deceptive.

"You look beautiful, dear," she adds, her sharp eyes scanning you from head to toe.

You already know she’s assessing. Cataloging. Comparing you to the polished, obedient daughter-in-law she expected you to be.

Sunghoon’s father, however, has other interests.

"You’re glowing tonight," Chairman Park remarks, taking a sip of his whiskey. His eyes crinkle slightly at the edges. "It must be a sign that we’ll be hearing good news soon."

You barely have time to process his words before another voice chimes in—one of Sunghoon’s aunts, a woman who has made it her life’s mission to interrogate you at every family gathering.

"Yes, yes!" she gushes, already leaning in as if she’s about to hear a confession. "It’s been what? three years since the wedding? We were just saying the other day how we still haven’t heard any news!"

There it is. The question that always comes, in one form or another.

The polite, well-mannered, socially acceptable way of asking: Why haven’t you given him a child yet?

You see it before you hear it—the way Sunghoon’s fingers tighten around his champagne flute, the subtle twitch in his jaw. But he doesn’t say anything.

Of course, he doesn’t.

So you do what you always do. You smile. You deflect. You play your part.

"Work keeps us busy," you say smoothly, taking a slow sip of champagne. "There’s still so much we want to accomplish first."

The aunt clicks her tongue, shaking her head. "Ah, but what’s all this success without a family to share it with?"

You feel it then—the weight of your in-laws’ eyes on you, the expectation pressing against your ribs like an iron cage.

Sunghoon’s mother hums, a soft, carefully measured sound. "Children bring a different kind of happiness," she says, voice light but laced with meaning. "Of course, it’s ultimately your decision… but I do hope you aren’t waiting too long."

Another aunt leans in, faux sympathy dripping from her tone. "There aren’t any problems, are there?"

It’s a dagger cloaked in silk. The insinuation. The unspoken judgment.

You don’t have to look at Sunghoon to know he’s bristling beside you. You can feel the tension in his silence.

Still, he says nothing.

The moment stretches, uncomfortable and suffocating. And then—

A soft laugh. Controlled. Collected.

Sunghoon turns his head slightly, his expression unreadable as he finally speaks.

"We appreciate your concern," he says, voice smooth as glass. "But when we have something to share, you’ll be the first to know."

There’s nothing in his tone that suggests anger, but the way his mother’s lips press together ever so slightly tells you she’s caught the warning beneath his words.

The conversation shifts, flowing into another topic, but you no longer hear it. You’re still holding your champagne flute, fingers gripping the stem a little too tightly.

Sunghoon doesn’t look at you. Not even once.

The meal is extravagant, an elaborate showcase of wealth and refinement. Each course is served with meticulous precision, arriving in waves of delicate flavors and carefully plated masterpieces. Crystal glasses remain full, refilled before they ever have the chance to empty, while waitstaff glide through the room with the kind of quiet efficiency that only comes from years of training. Around you, conversation flows as smoothly as the wine, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter from tables where people have had just enough to drink to let their guard down.

The atmosphere is lively, engaging. A room filled with the kind of people who measure success in numbers and influence rather than in anything tangible like love or happiness.

You and Sunghoon don’t speak.

It isn’t new.

It’s been months—maybe even longer—since you’ve had a real conversation. These events used to be something you faced together, an exhausting but necessary part of maintaining appearances in your world. There was a time when he would lean in close, whisper something wry against the shell of your ear just to make you laugh, his hand resting on your thigh beneath the table as a silent reminder that, no matter how long the evening stretched, you would leave together.

Now, his presence beside you feels like nothing more than habit. The weight of expectation.

To everyone else, you are still Park Sunghoon’s wife—flawless and poised, an extension of his success, the perfect image of a woman who belongs at his side. But to each other, you are barely anything at all.

You watch as he listens intently to the conversation at hand, nodding along as one of his board members drones on about upcoming market trends. His features remain unreadable, his fingers steady as he lifts his glass to his lips, sipping at his wine without a second thought. His ability to be present yet completely unreachable is something you once admired about him. Now, it’s something that drives you insane.

At some point during the meal, while the conversation has drifted toward a discussion on recent company acquisitions, a new voice cuts through the air.

"You remember Soojin, don’t you?"

It’s not a question so much as a strategic opening, delivered with the practiced ease of a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing.

You shift slightly, already knowing where this is going before you even turn your head. Sunghoon’s mother is smiling, her expression warm and pleasant in the way that only someone raised in high society can master. It is a look that has fooled many, but not you. You’ve spent too many years in her presence to mistake it for anything but a well-placed maneuver.

Her gaze flickers toward a table across the room, drawing your attention to the woman seated there. Soojin.

She is beautiful in the way that women in your world are expected to be—polished, refined, her makeup flawless, her hair styled to perfection. The kind of woman who commands attention without even trying.

The kind of woman Sunghoon’s mother would have preferred as her daughter-in-law.

"Her father’s company just finalized a deal with ours," she continues, lifting her glass to her lips. "It’s an impressive partnership."

You say nothing.

She doesn’t need you to.

"She’s always been such a sweet girl," she adds, her smile never faltering. "Smart. Beautiful. And her family is so well-connected."

The words are light, conversational, but the weight of them is suffocating.

She doesn’t say it outright, but the message is clear.

You are not the only option.

There are women who would make the perfect Mrs. Park—women who would be better suited for the role, who would know how to uphold the family name, who would understand the responsibilities that come with being married to someone like Sunghoon.

Women who would not have made the mistakes you did.

Your grip tightens around your fork.

You keep your expression neutral, refusing to react. You won’t give her the satisfaction. You won’t let her see that the words sting in a way they shouldn’t, that they burrow beneath your skin, scraping against wounds that never quite healed.

"I’m aware," Sunghoon says, finally setting his wine glass down with deliberate ease.

Two words. Nothing more.

His mother studies him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she smiles again, as if the moment never happened.

The conversation moves forward.

You exhale slowly, setting your glass down, your fingers still curled around the delicate stem. No reassurance. No defense. No effort to correct what was just implied.

I’m aware.

A bitter taste lingers on your tongue, but you swallow it down, lifting your chin slightly as you redirect your attention to the meal in front of you.

You already know how this night will end. The same way it always does. With silence.

The moment you step inside the penthouse, the carefully constructed facade of the evening begins to crumble. The sterile glow of the overhead lights does little to ease the weight pressing against your chest, the silence between you and Sunghoon thick with something sharp, something unsaid.

You hear the quiet rustle of fabric as he shrugs off his suit jacket, draping it over the arm of a chair before undoing the first few buttons of his dress shirt. His movements are methodical, controlled, as if he’s following a script that no longer holds any meaning.

You should keep walking. You should disappear into the bathroom, wash the night off your skin, lock yourself behind a door like you have so many nights before. But instead, you linger, fingers still curled around the strap of your bag, your gaze tracing the familiar lines of his back, the tension in his shoulders.

"You didn’t say anything."

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. Your voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it, a challenge buried beneath the exhaustion.

Sunghoon doesn’t turn. "About what?"

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. "About what?" you repeat, laughter bubbling up, bitter and humorless. "About your mother. About your aunts. About all of them sitting there, questioning me like I’m some failed investment."

A pause.

Then, finally, he glances over his shoulder. "What did you want me to say?"

The way he says it—steady, detached, devoid of any real curiosity—makes your stomach twist.

"Anything," you say, because that’s the truth of it. You just wanted something.

His lips press together briefly before he turns back toward the dresser, rolling up his sleeves. "It wouldn’t have changed anything."

And there it is.

That unbearable indifference.

The quiet, unshaken finality of a man who has already made peace with his own silence.

It shouldn’t feel like a slap to the face, but it does.

"You never fight for anything," you whisper, voice barely audible over the hum of the city outside.

He doesn’t say a word, but you can feel it—the way his gaze trails over your bare skin, the way his fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s holding himself back.

It only takes a step. One step forward, and everything snaps.

His hands are on you before you can think—gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him, the heat of his body bleeding into yours. His mouth crashes against yours, rough, unyielding, a kiss that isn’t sweet or tender, but desperate, punishing. You gasp against him, your fingers tangling in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as he presses you back against the dresser.

"You always do this," he mutters against your lips, his breath hot, his voice sharp. "Come to me when you need to forget."

You don’t answer.

You don’t need to.

His hands slide up your thighs, pushing them apart with ease. He’s impatient, reckless, fingers slipping beneath the lace of your panties, dragging them down before you can protest. A sharp inhale leaves your lips as he presses two fingers against your clit, circling slow, teasing, just enough to make your hips jerk forward.

"Already wet," he muses, dragging his fingers through your slick folds. His tone is mocking, but his voice is hoarse, strained. "That desperate for me?"

You bite down on your lower lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. But your body betrays you, hips rolling against his hand, chasing the friction that he’s refusing to give.

Sunghoon chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. Just something bitter, something dark.

Without warning, he presses two fingers inside you, stretching you open with a slow, deliberate pace. Your breath hitches, nails digging into his shoulders as he curls his fingers, stroking the spot that makes your knees tremble.

"You can pretend all you want," he murmurs against your throat, his lips trailing down, teeth scraping against your skin. "But your body knows who it belongs to."

His free hand moves to your chest, fingers tweaking your nipple, rolling it between his fingers before his mouth replaces them, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. You arch into him, a whimper slipping past your lips, your thighs tightening around his wrist.

"Sunghoon," you gasp, a plea or a warning—you’re not sure.

He pulls away, his fingers slipping from you, leaving you empty and aching. Before you can protest, he turns you around, pressing your front against the cool surface of the dresser, his body crowding you from behind. His hands roam your body, over the swell of your ass, down to your thighs, spreading them apart as he presses the hard length of his cock against your heat.

You exhale sharply as he grips your hips, dragging the tip of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your slick before pressing forward. The stretch is sharp, deep, and you gasp, gripping the edge of the dresser as he sinks into you, inch by inch, filling you completely.

"Fuck," he groans, his fingers tightening against your hips, like he’s barely holding himself together.

He gives you a second—just one—before he pulls back and thrusts into you again, setting a brutal, relentless pace. Each movement is rough, deliberate, the sound of skin against skin mixing with the soft, breathy moans slipping past your lips.

The dresser rattles beneath you, your body rocking with each thrust, and you can do nothing but take it, the pleasure sharp and consuming. Sunghoon grips your hair, pulling your head back as he leans in, his breath hot against your ear.

"Let them keep talking," he mutters, voice ragged, punctuated by the snap of his hips.

Your breath catches, your walls clenching around him at his words.

Sunghoon lets out a low groan, his thrusts growing deeper, sharper, his fingers moving back to your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles. The tension coils tighter, your body burning, unraveling beneath him.

"Cum," he murmurs, his voice softer now, breathless.

And you do—pleasure washing over you in waves, your thighs shaking, your moan muffled as he presses a hand against your mouth, keeping you from making too much noise.

He follows soon after, his grip tightening, his cock pulsing inside you as he groans low against your shoulder, spilling into you with a shudder.

For a moment, there is only silence.

Then, just as expected, he pulls away.

Rolls onto his back.

Says nothing.

You stare at the reflection of yourself in the dresser mirror—flushed skin, swollen lips, empty eyes. You should leave. You should.

But you don’t.

Instead, you slip beneath the covers, curling away from him, pressing your knuckles against your mouth to keep yourself from shaking.

Because tonight, at least, you don’t want to feel alone.

The morning is quiet.

You wake up to an empty bed, the sheets beside you already cold. The absence of warmth shouldn’t bother you—it hasn’t in months—but today, it does. The ache in your body from the night before lingers, a dull, throbbing reminder of something you wish you could forget.

For a moment, you stay still, staring up at the ceiling, tracing the patterns of light and shadow that spill through the curtains. The penthouse is bathed in soft gold from the rising sun, a warmth that contrasts the cold emptiness beside you.

There was a time when mornings like these meant something. When you’d wake up tangled in Sunghoon’s limbs, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along your back, his lips pressing lazy kisses against your shoulder. When the weight of his body against yours felt grounding instead of suffocating.

Now, there’s nothing but space.

You take a slow breath, blinking against the dryness in your eyes before finally sitting up. The silence is deafening, the type that only exists in places too large for two people who no longer belong to each other.

When you step out of bed, your legs feel unsteady, soreness creeping up your spine. You ignore it. You move toward the bathroom, turning on the sink, splashing cold water on your face as if it’ll rinse away the heaviness in your chest. It doesn’t.

Your reflection stares back at you, eyes slightly swollen, lips faintly bruised from the way he kissed you last night. You press your fingers against them, swallowing down the memory of his touch, of the way his hands had held you so tightly as if he could keep you from slipping away.

But he didn’t.

He never could.

By the time you make your way downstairs, the smell of freshly brewed coffee lingers in the air. The sight of Sunghoon sitting at the dining table shouldn’t make your stomach tighten the way it does. He looks like he always does—effortlessly composed, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand while his other scrolls through his phone.

Like nothing happened.

Like last night was just another night.

The illusion of normalcy almost makes you hesitate. Almost.

Instead, you step forward, setting the folder down on the glass surface of the table with a deliberate thud. The sound cuts through the silence, drawing Sunghoon’s attention as his eyes flicker up to meet yours.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t react, just studies you for a moment before his gaze drifts downward to the document between you.

Divorce Agreement.

His fingers pause against the rim of his coffee cup.

"Where were you?," you say, your voice steady, carefully controlled.

"Work," he replies, taking a slow sip of his coffee.

You cross your arms, exhaling through your nose. "You knew this was coming." Your voice is measured, even, despite the tightness in your throat.

Sunghoon finally sets his mug down with a soft clink, his expression unreadable. "I did."

"Then sign them."

A long silence stretches between you. You hold your ground, standing tall, watching as he leans back slightly in his chair, his fingers idly tapping against the surface of the table. He doesn’t look at the papers, just at you.

"You really want this?"

The words are simple. Too simple.

You hate the way they make your stomach twist. Hate the way your throat tightens because this shouldn’t be hard. This shouldn’t be something that makes your hands curl into fists at your sides.

"Yes."

His lips press together briefly before he exhales through his nose. Without another word, he pulls the folder toward him, flipping it open, skimming the terms with the same impassive ease he applies to every contract he reviews at work.

For a second, your breath catches.

You almost expect him to argue, to fight, to say something—anything.

But he doesn’t.

Not when he turns the page. Not when his eyes flicker across the fine print. Not when he reaches for the pen beside him.

And then—

He stops.

His fingers hover over the paper, the tip of the pen barely touching the page. Then, instead of signing, he clicks the pen shut and sets it down.

The air in the room shifts. Your stomach twists.

"Not tonight." His voice is smooth, final.

You blink. "What?"

He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, his expression completely unreadable. "I’ll think about it."

Something in your chest tightens, frustration curling in your throat. "Think about what?" You gesture to the papers between you. "This isn’t something that needs consideration, Sunghoon. This is happening. It’s already over."

His gaze darkens slightly, but his face remains composed. "Then why are you still here?"

Your breath catches.

Because you haven’t left yet. Because some part of you still needs this conversation. Because some part of you is waiting for him to say something that changes everything.

The silence stretches, heavy and unbearable. His fingers drum against the glass once, twice, before he reaches for his whiskey glass instead, taking a slow sip. His lips part slightly, as if he’s about to say something, but then he just shakes his head.

"You’ll have them back tomorrow."

But you already know—he won’t sign.

Not tomorrow. Not the next day. Maybe not ever.

Park Enterprises runs on three things: money, power, and the ability to avoid Park Sunghoon and his soon-to-be-ex-wife in the same room at all costs.

This isn’t an official company policy, but if you asked anyone—from the executives to the janitorial staff—they’d all agree: keeping their two highest-ranking officials away from each other is the best way to ensure the company doesn’t collapse in on itself.

This is why, over the past few months, a silent, unofficial, yet highly efficient system has developed.

It begins every morning.

6:45 AM: Sunghoon arrives, coffee in hand, barely glancing at the receptionist before disappearing into his office. If he sighs immediately upon entering? Bad day. If he slams his office door? Get the emergency evacuation plan ready. 7:15 AM: You arrive, headphones in, already on a call, looking like you’re mentally preparing for battle. If you greet anyone? Good day. If you walk straight to your office without making eye contact? Avoid, avoid, avoid. 7:30 AM: Your PA, Nishimura Riki, updates the "Safe Zones" list. Any floor occupied by both you and Sunghoon is immediately deemed a no-go area.

By 9 AM, the "Daily Avoidance Protocol" is in full effect.

Incoming text: 📲 [Riki → Legal Team] 🚨 Sunghoon spotted near the finance department. Legal team, take the back elevators. DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT TAKE THE MAIN LOBBY.

Incoming text: 📲 [Sunoo → Executive Team] 🛑 Your boss is stomping through the 18th floor like a woman on a mission. She just told an intern to "never, ever look that stressed in front of her again" and I don’t think she was joking.

Incoming text: 📲 [Riki → Sunoo] i heard ur boss threw his pen at the wall this morning lol wtf did u do to him

[Sunoo]: nothing yet but im about to stir the pot for fun.

[Riki]: bet.

And then, of course, there’s lunch.

There used to be a time—back when things were different, when things were better—when you and Sunghoon would eat together. Now?

Now, entire lunch routes are planned out in advance to make sure the two of you never end up in the same restaurant, let alone the same hallway.

Incoming text: 📲 [Sunoo → Riki] Depressed male boss is heading toward the rooftop restaurant. tell ur people to evacuate the 10th floor cafe IMMEDIATELY.

Incoming text: 📲 [Riki → Legal Team] 🚨 ABORT. ABORT. DO NOT GO TO THE CAFÉ. I REPEAT, DO NOT GO TO THE CAFÉ.

By 3 PM, most employees think they’ve made it through the day safely. Until they check the meeting schedule. And realize. There’s a joint executive-legal meeting scheduled at 4:30 PM. Which means.

They have to be in the same room.

The boardroom at Park Enterprises is a high-stakes battlefield.

The executives and legal team are already seated, carefully keeping their faces neutral, their eyes trained on the reports in front of them. No one dares to speak. Everyone is pretending to be busy, flipping through documents they’ve already memorized just to avoid being caught in the crossfire of what is about to happen.

At one end of the table, Sunoo twirls his pen lazily between his fingers, a small, knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Across from him, Riki updates the betting pool on his phone, typing at lightning speed while shooting occasional glances toward the door.

It’s only a matter of time before the two storm fronts collide.

The first arrival is you.

You stride in with effortless confidence, shoulders squared, back straight, file in hand. Your heels click sharply against the polished floors, announcing your presence before you even reach your seat.

You don’t acknowledge Sunghoon’s presence.

Your team watches as you settle into your chair, flipping open your folder with a level of precision that makes it very, very clear you are not in the mood for incompetence today.

Riki immediately clocks the stiffness in your posture. He subtly pulls out his phone under the table, fingers flying over the screen.

📲 Incoming text: [Riki → Legal Team] boss lady is MAD mad. don’t make eye contact, stay low, survive.

Barely thirty seconds later, Sunghoon walks in.

He doesn’t look at you.

Instead, he exhales sharply as he takes his seat, flipping open his laptop with measured ease, his expression unreadable. The sound of his pen clicking open is the only thing that breaks the silence.

he just sighed. that’s a bad sign. let’s all start praying now.

For the first ten minutes, everything is fine.

Reports are reviewed, revenue projections are discussed, and for a fleeting moment, there’s the illusion of normalcy. You make your points with cool efficiency, and Sunghoon listens without interruption.

"The merger contract," one of the executives finally says, carefully glancing between the two of you like he’s about to light a match in a room full of gasoline.

You don’t hesitate. You already know where this is going.

"The terms still require legal review," you state, flipping to the necessary section in your file. "The current liability clauses remain too vague for approval."

Sunghoon doesn’t even look up from his laptop. "The legal team has had two weeks to finalize those clauses."

Your brows lift slightly. "And yet, they’re still a problem. Imagine that."

The temperature in the room drops.

Sunoo, who had been casually taking notes, suddenly stops writing. His eyes flicker between you and Sunghoon, realization dawning.

Riki, seated to your right, visibly winces. His grip on his pen tightens before it slips from his fingers and rolls off the table.

Sunghoon finally looks up, his dark eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. "You’re delaying a time-sensitive deal over minor details."

Your lips curl, the faintest hint of amusement playing at the edges. "Minor details? You mean, like, the ones that could potentially cost us millions in damages?"

His jaw tightens. "There’s a deadline for a reason."

"And there’s a reason you need my approval before proceeding," you counter, tone perfectly composed. "Which, let me remind you, you don’t have yet."

The silence that follows is deafening.

Sunoo leans back in his chair, murmuring to Riki under his breath. "They’re fighting in full sentences today."

Riki nods slowly, still typing. "This is worse than last week’s passive-aggressive email exchange."

Sunghoon exhales sharply, sitting back in his chair. His fingers drum once—just once—against the table before he speaks again.

"Fine," he says smoothly, but his tone is sharp. "Take another day. No more than that."

You hum thoughtfully, feigning consideration as you flip another page in your file. "I’ll let you know if that’s feasible."

Sunoo, who is now openly grinning, tilts his phone toward Riki.

📲 Incoming text: [Riki → Legal Team] the CEO looks like he wants to kill someone but is trying to stay professional. ten bucks says he slams his laptop shut first.

📲 Incoming text: [Sunoo → Executive Team] LMFAO he just clenched his jaw so hard I think he cracked a tooth.

Your heels click against the polished floor as you walk further in the penthouse, but you don’t call out for him. You don’t need to. You already know where he is.

The scent of whiskey lingers in the air—subtle, but unmistakable. Your eyes land on Park Sunghoon, sitting on the couch in the dim light of the living room, his posture relaxed, one arm draped over the back of the cushions, his other hand resting near the glass of amber liquid on the coffee table. His tie is loose, the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone, his sleeves rolled up as if he’s been here for a while, waiting.

But that isn’t what catches your attention.

The divorce papers sit between you on the glass surface.

Untouched.

Your throat tightens as something bitter and exhausted coils low in your stomach. You set your bag down near the door with more force than necessary, the sound sharp against the silence. You’re tired—of the fights, of the push and pull, of this thing between you that refuses to die no matter how much you try to smother it.

"You haven’t signed them." Your voice is level, controlled, giving away nothing. But inside, your pulse is unsteady, your fingers curling into fists at your sides.

Sunghoon doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches for his whiskey, taking a slow sip, his movements measured, deliberate. When he sets the glass back down, the faint clink against the glass table feels deafening in the quiet room. His gaze lifts to yours, dark and unreadable, his expression betraying nothing.

"No."

The single word lands between you like a gunshot.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, nails pressing into your palms as frustration flares up in your chest. "Sunghoon—"

"Say it."

His voice is quiet, but the weight of it cuts through the space between you with an edge sharper than steel.

You frown slightly, tilting your head in question. "Say what?"

His eyes remain steady on yours, holding you there, unrelenting. There’s no coldness in them, not like there usually is, but something deeper, heavier, more dangerous.

"Say you don’t love me anymore."

The air in the room thickens, growing heavy with something suffocating, unbearable.

It should be easy.

You should be able to say it, to lie through your teeth and tear the last fraying thread between you. You’ve spent months trying to unlove him, convincing yourself that walking away is the only choice left.

But the way he’s looking at you now—the way his fingers ghost over the edge of the divorce papers but never actually touch them—it makes something sink deep in your chest, twisting into something that feels like regret.

Your jaw tightens, shoulders drawing stiff, as you inhale slowly through your nose. "Don’t do this," you murmur, voice quieter now.

Sunghoon leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, the corner of his mouth curling into something resembling a smirk, but there’s no amusement behind it. "Do what?"

Your pulse hammers against your ribs as anger rises in your throat, sharp and bitter. "Pretend to care when you never did."

Something snaps.

Fast. Brutal.

Before you can react, you’re on the couch, pinned beneath him, Sunghoon’s hand wrapped around your throat.

Your breath catches as your back presses into the cushions, your pulse stuttering beneath his fingers. The grip isn’t tight—not enough to hurt—but just enough to hold you there, to remind you exactly who he is.

His face is close, too close, his breath warm against your lips, his jaw clenched so tight you can see the tension in every muscle. His gaze flickers between your eyes, searching, burning, filled with something dark and raw.

"You think I never cared?" His voice is low, rough, dangerous in a way that sends heat curling through your stomach.

Your body tenses, then melts, as his other hand trails up your thigh, fingers barely skimming your skin, teasing, not touching where you need him to.

"You think I don’t want you?" His breath is uneven now, his fingers tightening just slightly around your throat before loosening again. His thumb brushes along the side of your neck, slow, deliberate. His body is pressed against yours, solid and warm, every inch of him so close, too close, not close enough.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist, nails pressing lightly into his skin, grounding yourself, grounding him. Your breath is shaky when you speak, barely above a whisper. "I think you don’t know how to want me without ruining me."

A muscle in his jaw ticks.

For a second—just a second—he looks wrecked.

Then, his grip tightens.

Your breath stutters, a soft gasp slipping past your lips as heat pools low in your stomach. His lips brush against your ear, his voice lower now, rough, a quiet warning.

"Tell me to stop."

You should.

Sunghoon waits, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, his fingers tightening around your waist, his grip flexing against your throat just enough to make your pulse quicken.

"You won’t, will you?" His tone is almost amused, but there’s something darker underneath, something that sounds almost like relief.

You shake your head.

And then his lips crash into yours.

The kiss is deep, hungry, filled with everything you’ve both been pretending doesn’t exist. His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, pulling you closer like he wants to memorize the shape of you all over again.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, and he groans into your mouth, his body pressing you further into the couch, his knee parting your thighs. His hands slide under your dress, rough palms trailing against your skin, teasing, making you ache.

"Still wet for me," he mutters, voice dark, breathless. His fingers slip beneath your panties, dragging over your soaked folds, slow and deliberate, just to prove his point.

You whimper against his mouth, thighs trembling as he strokes you, not giving you what you need, just teasing, just pushing you closer to the edge.

"Sunghoon," you gasp, a plea, a warning.

He smirks against your skin, lips pressing against your throat, sucking at the sensitive skin before sinking two fingers into you, curling just right.

"You hate me, remember?" His voice is taunting, wicked.

Your back arches, hips rocking against his fingers, chasing more, chasing him.

Your breath comes out in shuddering gasps as you whisper the only thing you can manage. "I hate you."

Sunghoon lets out a breathless, bitter laugh.

"Liar."

"That’s not how we do things at Park Enterprises, Mrs. Park," Sunghoon muses.

He leans back in his office chair, fingers tapping against the polished surface of the table. The way he says it is deliberate, lazy, like he’s testing you.

The meeting room is as usual, closer to World War 3 (total destruction edition) than a collaborative good-vibes-only space.

You still, fingers curling slightly against the stack of legal briefs in front of you. The flicker of heat that rushes through you isn’t fondness—it’s pure irritation.

"Don’t call me that." Your tone is measured, sharp.

Sunghoon’s lips twitch, but there’s no humor in his smirk. "Habit."

Your gaze hardens, your nails pressing into the contract as you slam it down in front of him.

"Then break it."

The entire room freezes.

Sunoo, seated two chairs down, makes a sound that might be a laugh but immediately covers it with a cough. Across from him, Riki subtly slides his phone out to update the betting pool on how long this fight is going to last.

The tension only thickens when Sunghoon reaches for the contract, flipping through the pages like he isn’t remotely affected. His expression is smooth, almost bored, but you don’t miss the way his jaw tightens just slightly.

"You seem invested in this," he muses, signing his name on the margin like he’s humoring you. "Why? Worried about my financial well-being?"

You exhale slowly, forcing down the irritation curling in your chest. "No. I just don’t like being dragged into your reckless decisions when you know I’ll have to clean up your mess later."

Sunghoon’s eyes flick up to yours. There’s something there, something sharp, dark, something that makes your stomach twist.

"You always do," he murmurs. "Clean up after me."

You refuse to react, refuse to let him see that he’s getting under your skin. Instead, you push back your chair, standing with a level of poise that takes effort.

"I don’t work for you, Sunghoon," you remind him, voice cold. "I work for the company."

His lips press together, but he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t tell you you’re wrong.

Because you aren’t.

📲 Incoming text: [Sunoo → Riki] he just flexed his fingers like he wanted to throw the pen LMFAO ur boss literally just called him reckless in front of the entire room. this is peak entertainment.

📲 Incoming text: [Riki → Legal Team] ceo looks ready to commit murder. we might need security.

📲 Incoming text: [Sunoo → Executive Team] he just sighed through his nose. we are in DANGER.

The morning sun spills into Park Enterprises, painting streaks of gold across the marble floors of the top executive offices. Everything looks pristine, polished—exactly the way Sunghoon keeps it. But today, something is off.

You push open the heavy glass door to his office without knocking, a thick stack of contracts tucked under your arm. Your heels click against the floor with precise, deliberate steps, each one punctuating the tension lingering between you.

Without hesitation, you slam the folder onto his desk.

“You’re going to sign this,” you declare, arms crossing over your chest, voice clipped, firm.

Sunghoon doesn’t respond right away.

You expect the usual pushback—some sarcastic remark, a knowing smirk, the casual dismissal of your concerns—but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he stays where he is, leaning against the edge of his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened just enough to suggest exhaustion. His fingers press lightly against the smooth wood surface behind him, as if steadying himself.

He looks off.

Not tired—Sunghoon is always tired. But off.

You narrow your eyes. “What, no argument?”

He blinks at you, slowly, like it takes more effort than it should. His grip on the desk tightens briefly before he exhales, dragging a hand through his already tousled hair.

"Are you okay?" The question leaves your lips before you can stop it.

Sunghoon finally reacts, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips—small, forced. “Worried about me now?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I just don’t want you dying in my office.”

He chuckles, but the sound is weak, quieter than usual. He straightens up, shifts his weight slightly, but the way he moves is wrong—like he’s trying too hard to make it look effortless.

"If I did," he murmurs, "I’d haunt you."

Normally, that would be enough to pull an eye roll out of you. Maybe even a snarky remark. But something about the way he says it makes your stomach tighten.

You watch him carefully. The way his fingers flex against the desk. The slight tension in his shoulders. The way his smirk falters at the edges.

Sunghoon has always carried himself with control—measured, deliberate, never showing a single crack in the façade. But right now, standing in front of you, he looks off balance.

The last time he looked like this, the last time he held himself together just a little too well, something had been wrong then too.

Something you didn’t realize until it was too late.

The memory presses at the edges of your thoughts, but you push it down.

“Maybe you should sit down before you do something stupid,” you mutter.

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, clearly amused, but he does exactly that. He sinks into his chair, rolling his shoulders, letting out a slow breath before picking up the contract.

“Relax,” he says, flipping through the pages. “I’ll sign your stupid paperwork. No need to get sentimental.”

Your jaw tightens, irritation curling at the edges of your concern. “I’m not being sentimental. I just don’t want to deal with the PR disaster when you inevitably collapse.”

Sunghoon lets out a quiet huff of laughter, but the way his fingers drift to his temple, pressing lightly, does not go unnoticed. He rubs at the tension there, eyes briefly fluttering shut before he shakes his head, pushing through whatever is bothering him.

“I’m fine.”

You don’t believe him. But you don’t push. Because the last time you did, you lost.

It had been late.

Past midnight. The city outside your bedroom window was still awake, alive with light and movement, but inside, the world had gone silent.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion pressing into your chest like a weight you couldn’t lift. You weren’t crying. You had already done that. There was nothing left inside you except emptiness.

Sunghoon lay beside you.

Awake. Motionless. Silent.

His back was turned to you.

And the worst part, the part that haunted you even now, wasn’t that he hadn’t said anything.

It was that when you had reached for his hand, he had let you hold it.

But he hadn’t held yours back.

The memory lingers even as you push it away.

You watch Sunghoon as he picks up the contract, flipping through the pages with minimal interest. His fingers tighten slightly when he turns each page, like he’s holding back something.

Pain. Fatigue. Something worse.

"You look like shit," you say finally, leaning against his desk, arms crossed.

Sunghoon hums, barely glancing up. “Charming as always.”

"You should get checked out."

He snorts, shaking his head. “If I wanted medical advice, I wouldn’t take it from my ex-wife.”

"Not ex yet."

And for some reason, as you turn to leave, you can’t shake the feeling that you just missed something important.

The Park family never asks for favors.

Not officially, at least.

It’s always subtle, always wrapped in polite smiles and casual requests, laced with just enough manipulation to make refusal feel impossible.

Which is why you’re seated in the Park family’s private lounge, sipping tea that’s gone cold, listening to Sunghoon’s mother and his uncle discuss the delicate legal situation that has suddenly become your responsibility.

“It’s just a small thing,” his mother insists, waving a dismissive hand as though corporate fraud allegations against one of their subsidiary partners are a minor inconvenience rather than a full-blown lawsuit waiting to happen.

You keep your expression neutral, fingers laced neatly over your knee. “It’s not a small thing,” you correct evenly. “You’re looking at a serious case of financial misrepresentation, and if this isn’t handled properly, it could affect all of Park Enterprises. This isn’t something I can just sweep under the rug.”

His uncle chuckles like you’ve just told a particularly amusing joke. “Oh, we know that, dear. That’s why we’re bringing it to you.”

Dear.

You resist the urge to tense, keeping your posture composed.

Because this is what you’ve become to them.

Not a daughter-in-law. Not family.

A lawyer first, a liability second.

“You’ve always been so good at handling these sorts of things,” his mother adds, smiling that elegant, carefully practiced smile that never quite reaches her eyes. “And with your position at the company, it only makes sense for you to oversee it personally.”

Of course. Personally.

They won’t trust this kind of thing to an outsider. But they also won’t officially involve you, because that would mean compensation, responsibility, accountability.

Instead, they’ll let you handle it just enough to clean up their mess. They’ll let you do the work, bear the stress, and take the fall if things go wrong.

And Sunghoon?

Sunghoon won’t say a word.

You glance to your left, where he’s seated quietly, fingers tapping lightly against the rim of his coffee cup. He hasn’t spoken once since this conversation began.

Not to defend you. Not to refuse. Not to say anything at all.

Just… silent.

Your fingers tighten around the folder in your lap.

“I’ll review the case,” you say finally, voice clipped, controlled. “But I won’t guarantee anything.”

His mother beams, reaching forward to squeeze your hand like you’ve just agreed to Sunday brunch, not to clean up yet another one of their family’s legal disasters.

“I knew we could count on you,” she says sweetly.

Sunghoon still says nothing.

Not when his mother praises you.

Not when his uncle jokes about how lucky Sunghoon is to have married such a “resourceful” woman.

Not when the conversation finally ends, and they rise from their seats, leaving you with a stack of documents, a heavier workload, and a headache that has nothing to do with legal strategy.

It isn’t until you’re alone with him in the car, on the drive back home, that you finally let your frustration boil over.

“So that’s how this works now?” Your voice is flat, gaze fixed on the city lights outside the window. “Your family gets into trouble, and I’m the free labor you offer up to fix it?”

Sunghoon exhales, tilting his head back against the seat. “It’s not like that.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “No? Because from where I’m sitting, it sure as hell feels like it.”

His fingers flex against the steering wheel. “You’re the best lawyer they know,” he says after a beat, like that somehow makes it better. Like that somehow makes this okay.

You turn to look at him, eyes narrowing. “And that’s all I am, isn’t it?”

He went back after dropping you off.

His mother had barely glanced up from her tea. “She’s always been so difficult,” she sighed, setting the cup down with a delicate clink. “It would be easier if she simply cooperated without arguing every little point.”

Sunghoon’s jaw had clenched at that.

His uncle had smirked, shaking his head. “Women like her are sharp, but they forget that they’re meant to—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

The room had gone silent.

His uncle blinked, raising a brow. “Excuse me?”

Sunghoon had leaned forward slightly, voice measured but laced with something dangerous. “You don’t get to talk about her like that.”

His mother frowned slightly, but the warning in his expression kept her from speaking.

His uncle, however, wasn’t as quick to read the room. “She’s my niece-in-law, I can—”

“She’s not yours anything,” Sunghoon cut in, tone sharp. “And the next time you speak about her like that, you won’t like how I respond.”

His uncle had scoffed, muttering something under his breath about being too soft on a woman who clearly didn’t respect her place, but the discussion didn’t go any further.

Because Sunghoon had stood up, buttoning his suit jacket, gaze level.

“You wanted her help?” he had said coldly. “You’ll take what she’s willing to give. And if she decides she’s done dealing with your bullshit, you won’t push her. Understood?”

The first sign that something is wrong comes in the form of silence.

For the past few days, Sunghoon has been more irritable than usual. Not outright angry, not obviously upset, just… distant. He works longer hours, avoids unnecessary conversations, and brushes off every single instance you or his team ask if he’s okay. It’s nothing new—he’s always had a habit of overworking himself into exhaustion, pushing himself too hard, acting invincible even when he’s clearly not.

You’re used to it.

But today, something feels different.

Maybe it’s the way he barely acknowledged you in the morning meeting, his focus wavering during discussions where he’s usually sharp. Maybe it’s the way his grip tightened just slightly around his pen, like he needed to steady himself. Maybe it’s the way he looked at you—like he wanted to say something, but chose not to.

Or maybe it’s the way his entire office is empty when you pass by hours later, and his assistant, Sunoo, is nowhere to be found.

You stop in your tracks.

"Where is he?"

Riki looks up from his phone, startled by your sudden appearance at the executive floor. “Uh—meeting with finance, I think?”

You frown. “No, that ended an hour ago.”

Riki hesitates. He knows better than to lie to you. “He wasn’t looking too good earlier.”

Your stomach twists.

He’s been pushing himself too hard. You knew this would happen.

You spin on your heel, already moving before you can second-guess yourself.

When you find him, he’s exactly where you feared he’d be.

Collapsed on the floor of his office.

Sunghoon is slumped against the base of his desk, one hand still loosely gripping his chair, as if he had tried to stop himself from falling. His usually sharp, polished composure is completely gone—his dress shirt is slightly undone, his face pale, sweat beading along his brow. His breathing is shallow, his eyes half-lidded like he’s barely clinging to consciousness.

The sight of him like this—weak, vulnerable, not in control—makes something in your chest tighten painfully.

"Sunghoon," you breathe out, dropping to your knees beside him. Your hands hover over him for a second, uncertain, before you press against his shoulders, shaking him lightly. “Hey. Hey, look at me.”

His head tilts slightly, his gaze flickering to you, but it’s unfocused.

“…What are you doing here?” His voice is quiet, hoarse, like he’s barely holding onto himself.

Your heart pounds in your ears. “Shut up.” You tilt his chin up, searching his face, trying to assess just how bad this is. He’s too pale, too warm, and his breathing is far from steady.

"I’m fine," he murmurs, trying to push himself up, but his body betrays him. His limbs shake, his strength is gone, and before he can fall again, you catch him.

That’s when panic sinks in.

You barely register the way your arms tighten around him as you yell for help, your voice sharp, commanding. Within moments, Riki and Sunoo are rushing in, Sunoo already pulling out his phone to call an ambulance.

"Sunghoon, stay awake," you demand, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “Do you hear me? Stay awake.”

His lips curve slightly. Even now, he’s trying to smile.

“Bossy,” he mutters.

Your throat tightens. “Shut up and breathe.”

The hospital smells like antiseptic and exhaustion.

The waiting room is too bright, too cold, too suffocating. The dull hum of fluorescent lights buzzes overhead, mixing with the distant beeping of heart monitors and the low murmur of voices at the nurse’s station. You sit motionless, staring at the tiled floor, your arms crossed so tightly that your nails press crescents into your palms.

It’s been hours since they rushed Sunghoon in.

Riki and Sunoo are still here, but neither of them speaks. They hover nearby, their presence a quiet weight in the room, but they know better than to say anything. Everyone knows better than to say anything.

Finally, footsteps approach. A doctor stops in front of you, flipping through a clipboard. “Are you here for Park Sunghoon?”

Your breath catches. You rise immediately, ignoring the stiffness in your limbs. “Yes.”

“He’s stable for now,” the doctor says, voice calm and professional. “We ran some tests, but given his symptoms, this isn’t just exhaustion. He’s been dealing with this for a while, hasn’t he?”

Your stomach twists.

He’s been hiding this.

The doctor’s gaze softens slightly. “Are you his wife?”

The word cuts through you like a blade.

You swallow. Legally, yes. Emotionally? You don’t know anymore.

“Yes,” you say, the word tasting strange on your tongue.

The doctor nods. “Then I need to speak with you privately.”

The hospital room is suffocating.

It smells sterile, like antiseptic and something cold, something lifeless. The overhead lights cast a dim glow over everything—too bright, too harsh, too unforgiving. The heart monitor beside the bed beeps in slow, steady intervals, but Sunghoon’s breathing is anything but steady.

He looks wrecked.

His skin is too pale, washed out under the fluorescent glow. His lips are dry, colorless. There’s sweat clinging to his hairline, dampening the strands against his forehead. His fingers tremble where they rest against the blanket, curling slightly like even the fabric is too much to hold onto.

And yet, despite all of it, despite the exhaustion weighing down his body and the fever burning beneath his skin, he still looks at you with something sharp, something unyielding, when you demand the truth.

“How long have you known?”

Your voice is stretched too thin, raw from exhaustion and something deeper, something you don’t want to name.

Sunghoon exhales, closing his eyes for a second like it physically pains him to answer. When he finally does, his voice is quiet, hoarse from fatigue.

“Six months.”

The words sink into you like stones.

Your hands tighten around the metal bedrail, your grip so tight your knuckles go white. Your chest constricts, something ugly twisting inside of you, something that makes your stomach curl in on itself.

“Six fucking months?”

Sunghoon drags a trembling hand down his face, but even that looks like it takes too much effort. His body is failing him, but his voice is still there, still cutting, when he lets out a soft, bitter laugh.

“Would it have changed anything?”

Your breath catches, something sharp and painful ripping through your chest.

You let out a short, humorless laugh, something hollow and unfamiliar.

“Yes.”

Sunghoon finally looks at you, but there’s something haunted in his gaze. A long, unbearable silence stretches between you before his jaw tightens, his voice lowering, turning quiet, cutting like a blade against your skin.

“Did it change anything when I tried to hold you after we lost them?”

The air leaves your lungs.

You freeze, your entire body locking up, the grip you have on the bedrail so tight it screeches beneath your fingertips.

Sunghoon watches you carefully, but there’s no fight in his face, no anger, no bitterness.

Just exhaustion.

And pain.

Your voice barely makes it out. “You never tried.”

His breath catches.

“I did,” he murmurs, voice raw.

Your throat tightens.

“No, you didn’t.” You take a step forward, your pulse hammering, hands shaking. “You shut down. You let me—” Your breath hitches, your voice unsteady. “You let me go through it alone.”

Sunghoon doesn’t argue. He just looks away.

And that’s somehow worse.

“You acted like it never happened,” you whisper, the words barely holding themselves together. “Like they never happened.”

Sunghoon’s chest rises sharply, his fingers twitching, his breathing growing uneven again. His entire body stiffens, but he doesn’t push back.

And then, voice hoarse, shaking, wrecked,

“You think I didn’t care?”

Your hands curl into fists, but before you can say anything, before you can even process what’s happening—

Sunghoon moves too fast.

He tries to stand up, tries to close the space between you, but his body betrays him.

His IV yanks painfully, the needle shifting against his arm, and the wires attached to the monitor tangle around his wrist, pulling tighter when he moves. His breath stutters in pain, his fingers weakly gripping the sheets, but he doesn’t stop.

“Sunghoon,” you snap, eyes widening in alarm. “Sit the fuck down.”

But he doesn’t listen. He tries again to push himself up, stumbling slightly, and this time, his knees give out.

You barely catch him in time.

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss, gripping his arms as his entire weight collapses against you. His body burns under your touch, too warm, feverish, his breathing erratic. His head nearly falls against your shoulder, his body too weak to hold itself up.

His fingers clutch at the fabric of your blazer, something weak, something desperate.

And then—voice wrecked, hoarse, shaking—

“I named them.”

Your entire world tilts.

You go still.

Sunghoon doesn’t move, his forehead nearly pressed against your collarbone, his breath warm and shaky against your skin. His grip tightens, even as his body trembles.

“What?” Your voice barely makes it out, caught somewhere between disbelief and something worse.

“Every night while you were asleep next to me, I whispered their names silently. I prayed for them.”

Sunghoon exhales shakily. His legs shake beneath him, his chest heaving, his entire body drained. He’s burning up, sweat sticking to his temple, his breath shallow.

You grab him by the arms, shaking him slightly. “Say their names.”

Sunghoon winces, he shakes his head ‘no’ his face twisting like the words are physically painful to say. He exhales sharply, breath ragged.

“Say their names, Sunghoon.”

His fingers tighten around your sleeve, his whole body trembling under your touch. For a moment, he just stares at you, like saying it out loud will finally break him.

Then, barely above a whisper, like it’s being torn from him—

“Eunha and June.”

Your stomach drops.

Sunghoon exhales sharply, his entire body slumping like he just let go of something he’s been carrying for years.

“I used to imagine who they’d look like more,” he whispers, his voice so thin, so hollow. “If Eunha would have had your eyes. If June would have had my smile.”

Your throat tightens painfully.

“I wondered if they would have fought like us,” he exhales shakily, his fingers flexing around the fabric of your sleeve. “If they would have been close. If they would have had your fire. If I would have been able to protect them.”

His next breath is ragged, breaking.

“They were my girls.”

Your stomach twists.

His voice isn’t just sad. It’s grief-stricken. It’s empty.

“Mine,” he murmurs. His fingers twitch at his sides, the life draining from his voice as his chest rises and falls too quickly. “Mine and yours and no one else’s.”

A sob breaks past your lips, full and desperate and wrecked.

Before you even realize what you’re doing, you pull him in.

Sunghoon immediately folds into you, his arms wrapping around your waist weakly, his face burying itself into the crook of your neck.

He’s burning up, feverish, barely staying upright.

Your hands press into his back, feeling the too-thin frame of him, the exhaustion pulling at his body, the heat radiating off him in waves.

Neither of you speak.

For the first time in years, there is nothing left to say.

You wake up feeling… off.

Your neck aches, your back is stiff, and there’s a strange, rhythmic beeping that’s far too loud for this early in the morning.

It takes a second to register where you are.

The hospital.

Sunghoon.

The entire night before crashes into you all at once. The fight. His fever. The names. The fact that you never left.

Your stomach tightens. You should have left. You should have walked out the second he fell asleep. That was the plan.

And yet, somehow—you didn’t.

Before you can sit up, the door swings open.

“Well, this is unexpected.”

You jump, blinking blearily as Sunoo steps inside, two cups of coffee in hand, his eyes scanning the room with just a little too much interest.

He doesn’t immediately say something annoying, which means he’s definitely about to.

You shift in your chair, sitting up straighter, clearing your throat. “Morning.”

Sunoo doesn’t move, just looks at you. Then at Sunghoon, still asleep in the bed. Then back at you.

Finally—he lets out a small hum. “You stayed.”

It’s not judgmental. It’s not even teasing, really—just surprised. But for some reason, it makes you feel weirdly defensive.

“He had a fever,” you mutter, shifting under his gaze. “It was high. I didn’t think he should be alone.”

Sunoo nods. “Right.”

You hate how knowing he sounds.

Before you can scowl at him, Sunghoon groans, shifting slightly in the bed. His brow furrows, his body tensing for a brief moment before his eyes crack open.

And you know the exact moment he registers Sunoo’s presence—because instead of groaning in pain like a normal sick person, he exhales sharply, eyes barely open but already full of irritation.

“The fuck are you doing here?” His voice is rough, hoarse from sleep, but still so unmistakably Sunghoon that it’s almost impressive.

Sunoo lets out a small laugh, shaking his head as he grabs his own coffee. “Ah, there he is. Same old personality, even after nearly dying.”

Sunghoon barely cracks an eye open before exhaling sharply, pressing his head back against the pillow. “Go away.”

Sunoo, wisely, does not go away.

Instead, he takes a slow sip of his coffee. “I mean, technically, I work here. It’s my job to check on the CEO.” His gaze flickers toward you. “But wow. Look at this. The dedicated wife, staying by his side all night. It’s like something out of a drama.”

You groan, pressing your fingers to your temple. “Sunoo—”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he says, setting Sunghoon’s coffee on the bedside table. “I won’t tell the office too much. But, you know… people talk. Betting pools exist.”

Sunghoon slowly turns his head toward Sunoo.

And in the flattest, most deadpan voice imaginable, he says—

“You’re fired.”

Sunoo chokes on his coffee. “What?”

Sunghoon doesn’t even blink. “Pack your shit.”

“You wouldn’t survive a week without me,” Sunoo mutters, taking another sip.

Sunghoon closes his eyes, like he’s physically holding himself back from committing a crime.

You watch this exchange, unimpressed. “Are you two done?”

Sunoo gestures at Sunghoon. “Tell him. He’s the one being dramatic.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flick open again. “You barged in here at eight in the morning.”

“Nine,” Sunoo corrects. “And technically, I knocked.”

Neither of you remembers a knock.

Sunghoon takes a long, deep breath. “I still feel like shit. And the very first thing I see when I wake up is you. Running your mouth.”

Sunoo hums. “Okay, grumpy.”

Sunghoon glares.

Sunoo clears his throat, wisely changing the subject. “Anyway. You have the day off, obviously, but I have your morning reports whenever you’re—”

“I don’t care.”

Sunoo nods slowly. “Right. Well. I also have—”

“I still don’t care.”

Sunoo pauses. “…Okay, then.”

For the first time, he seems to sense that he’s overstayed his welcome. He takes a slow step toward the door, glancing between the two of you.

Then, mildly—“Try not to murder each other before lunch.”

And with that, he’s gone..

Sunghoon exhales sharply as he sinks into the passenger seat, eyes shut, head tilted back against the headrest. His body is still weak, and you know the car ride is taking more out of him than he’d ever admit. He doesn’t complain, though—he never does.

You keep your eyes on the road, both hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles pressing just a little too hard against the leather. The silence stretches between you, filling the space inside the car, thick but not suffocating. Just there.

It’s not hostile. Not like before. But it’s not comfortable either.

For a while, neither of you say anything. The city blurs past in streaks of yellow streetlights and neon reflections, casting flickering shadows across Sunghoon’s face. His breathing is slow, controlled, like he’s trying not to let the exhaustion show.

But you see it.

You see the way his fingers twitch slightly against his thigh, how his jaw tenses every time you hit the smallest bump in the road. You see the way his chest rises and falls, slower than usual, deeper like he’s trying to regulate himself.

And then, finally—his voice breaks the silence.

“You don’t have to babysit me.”

It’s not sharp, not a challenge. Just… a test.

You inhale, eyes flickering toward him briefly before returning to the road. “I know.”

A pause. Then, quieter this time, a little more uncertain—“You don’t have to stay in the same house anymore.”

Your fingers tighten around the wheel, your stomach twisting in a way you don’t like.

“I know,” you say again, but this time, it sounds different. Less sure. Less like something you actually believe.

Sunghoon turns his head slightly, watching you from the corner of his eye. His expression remains unreadable, his voice careful.

“Then why are you still here?”

The traffic light ahead flicks to red. The car slows, the tires rolling to a smooth stop, but inside, everything still feels like it’s moving too fast.

You could answer honestly. You could tell him that you don’t know how to walk away from him yet, that you don’t know what the hell you’re still holding onto but you’re holding onto it anyway.

Instead, you let out a slow breath and shift slightly in your seat. “You wouldn’t last a week without me.”

Sunghoon huffs, gaze drifting back toward the windshield. “I’d last at least two.”

The corners of your lips twitch, but you press them together before the expression fully forms.

“Wanna bet?”

The breath he lets out is something close to a laugh—short, barely there, but real.

“Not really,” he mutters, exhaling through his nose.

Neither of you say anything after that.

But the silence that follows doesn’t feel as heavy as before.

The house is dimly lit, the soft glow from the hallway casting long shadows across the walls. The familiar scent of wood and clean linen lingers in the air, settling around you like something almost comforting, almost safe.

Sunghoon moves carefully, slower than he normally would, his fingers brushing against the wall for balance as he toes off his shoes. He doesn’t stumble, doesn’t sway, but you see the way his body holds tension—too stiff, too controlled, like he’s bracing himself.

You don’t say anything.

Not until he lowers himself onto the couch, exhaling as if just the act of standing had drained him.

“You should sit down,” you say after a moment, arms crossing over your chest.

Sunghoon huffs a quiet breath, shaking his head. “You just watched me sit down.”

You roll your eyes, stepping into the kitchen without another word. He’s impossible. He always has been. The worst part is, you let yourself care anyway.

You fill a glass with water and bring it back to the living room, setting it down in front of him before dropping into the armchair across from the couch.

Sunghoon glances at the glass, then up at you.

“You’re not gonna make me drink it, are you?” His voice is hoarse, rough from exhaustion.

“I will if you keep being difficult.”

Sunghoon exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before finally—finally—grabbing the glass. He takes a slow sip, sets it back down, and leans back into the cushions.

The silence that follows is heavy, but not the kind that threatens to break.

For a few minutes, neither of you speak. The tension sits between you, waiting, stretching until you finally say—

“You need to take time off.”

Sunghoon’s brow furrows slightly, eyes still closed.

“I already did,” he mutters.

You scoff. “No, you were hospitalized. That’s not ‘time off,’ that’s your body shutting down because you refuse to take care of yourself.”

He doesn’t react at first, but you see the way his fingers flex slightly against his knee.

“I can manage,” he says, and this time, there’s an edge there.

You lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees, voice sharper now. “That’s exactly the problem, Sunghoon. You think you can manage. You think you can push through it, that it’s just something you can ignore and work around. But you can’t.”

His jaw tightens.

You exhale through your nose, hands pressing together. “The doctors literally told you what happens if you don’t take care of yourself. You might get better quickly, but if you push too hard, it’s going to get worse even faster. You don’t have the luxury of acting like this is a minor thing.”

Sunghoon shifts slightly, dragging a hand through his hair before resting his forearm against his knee. His voice is quieter when he finally speaks.

“…I know my limits.”

The words hit something raw inside you, something that has been aching for too long.

“No, you obviously don’t,” you snap, and this time, you don’t bother holding back. “You never do. You push and push until you hit a wall, and then you act surprised when your body gives out.”

Sunghoon’s fingers tighten against his knee. “I don’t need you to—”

“To what?” you interrupt, eyes burning. “To remind you? To be here because someone has to make sure you actually listen to the doctor’s advice?”

His breath catches slightly, and you hate how sickly he looks under the dim light. You hate how tired his shoulders are, how his fingers are trembling slightly against his knee, how his skin is still too pale, too warm from the fever that hasn’t fully faded yet. But most of all, you hate that he won’t just let himself rest.

You inhale, voice calmer now, but still firm. “They told you that you can’t just ‘push through’ this, Sunghoon. You’re not invincible. The whole reason you ended up in the hospital is because you ignored the symptoms for months.”

Sunghoon drags a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “I don’t need you to remind me of what I already know.”

“Then act like you know it.”

Sunghoon leans back against the couch, his body tense, hands resting on his thighs. His gaze flickers toward the ceiling, expression unreadable.

You watch him, watch the way his shoulders rise and fall with each slow breath, the way his throat bobs slightly when he swallows.

“Are you staying in my room?”

The words are soft. Careful. Testing.

Your fingers tighten slightly against your knee. You should say no.

You should get up, go to your own room, create distance before this turns into something neither of you know how to handle.

“Just until you’re better.”

A lie. And Sunghoon knows it too. But neither of you say anything about it.

The room is still dark when you stir awake, the faintest trace of early morning filtering through the curtains. The air is cool, the kind of stillness that comes right before dawn, when everything feels softer—quieter.

You shift slightly under the blankets, your body slow to wake, your mind still caught in the haze of sleep.

And that’s when you feel it.

The warmth. The weight. The quiet, steady presence behind you.

Sunghoon.

Your breath catches, your body freezing for a moment as reality sets in. His arm—heavy, warm, familiar—draped loosely around your waist.

Not tight. Not pulling. Just there.

Your mind races, but your body remembers.

For a second—just a second—you don’t move.

Sunghoon’s breathing is even, deep and slow. His chest rises and falls against your back, steady, the faint warmth of his breath skimming the back of your neck.

Your stomach twists.

It’s been years since you’ve woken up like this—since you’ve felt his presence this close, this natural. And for a fleeting, dangerous moment, you let yourself sink into it, let yourself feel the way his fingers twitch slightly against the fabric of your shirt, like he’s still dreaming.

Then, suddenly—he shifts.

His body stirs, his breath hitching slightly, and you realize he’s waking up.

Panic flickers up your spine, but you keep still, barely breathing, waiting—waiting to see if he’ll pull away first.

But he doesn’t.

Sunghoon exhales softly, his fingers twitching again before his hand tightens ever so slightly around your waist.

Not intentional. Not forceful. Just… like he doesn’t want to let go yet.

Your throat tightens. It lasts a second. Maybe two.

His body tenses slightly. His fingers flex. His breath catches.

He’s awake now.

Neither of you move. Neither of you breathe too loudly.

And then, carefully—too carefully—he pulls away.

His arm lifts from your waist, the warmth of him retreating as he shifts slightly onto his back. You hear him exhale quietly, controlled.

You wait, counting the seconds, waiting for him to say something, for him to make a joke, for him to act like this didn’t just happen.

But he doesn’t. He just stays there, quiet.

And after a moment, you let out a breath of your own and shift to sit up, pulling the blanket back just enough to swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

Neither of you acknowledge it. Neither of you turn to look at each other.

It’s like it never happened. And that’s the problem.

Because it did.

And for the rest of the morning, you can still feel the lingering warmth where his arm had been.

You knew this was going to happen.

You knew the moment you caught a glimpse of his laptop open on the coffee table this morning, saw the unread emails stacking up, the subtle tension in his shoulders as he read through them like he wasn’t supposed to be working in the first place.

You ignored it. You let it go, for a while. But now?

Now, it’s ten at night, and Sunghoon is still sitting on the damn couch, his laptop open, fingers typing slowly, deliberately, like he’s trying to pretend he’s not as exhausted as he actually is.

You don’t let it go this time.

“You’re working.”

It’s not a question.

Sunghoon doesn’t look up. His gaze stays fixed on the screen, his fingers still tapping against the keyboard.

“It’s just an email.” His voice is calm. Too calm.

You cross your arms, leaning against the doorway, your eyes sharp.

“Didn’t we already have this argument?”

Sunghoon sighs through his nose, his jaw tightening slightly. “And yet, here we are.”

You hate how steady he sounds, how he knows exactly how to say things just to piss you off.

Your arms tighten across your chest. “We’re not doing this again.”

“Then don’t start it,” he mutters, still not looking at you.

Your patience snaps.

You step forward, standing right in front of him, blocking his view of the laptop. “Sunghoon.”

His fingers pause over the keys. His gaze lifts to yours. And the air changes.

It happens too fast, that shift in the atmosphere. The frustration, the exhaustion, the sheer stubbornness—blending into something else.

Something tense.

His eyes flicker over your face, your mouth, your throat. His voice is lower when he speaks this time. Slower. More deliberate.

“You keep saying you’re not going to argue with me.”

His fingers curl slightly against the armrest.

“And yet, you’re still here.”

Your stomach twists—not in anger, not in frustration, but in something darker, something hotter, something that you don’t want to name.

Your eyes narrow slightly, your voice sharp when you say—“Because you don’t fucking listen.”

Sunghoon tilts his head, his expression unreadable. His gaze dips, lingering on your lips for half a second too long.

Your breath comes in shorter now.

And then—slowly, carefully—he shuts his laptop. The sound of it clicking shut feels too loud in the quiet.

He leans back against the couch, arms resting on the cushions, his legs spreading just slightly, just enough to make the space between you feel smaller.

“Go on, then.”

Your pulse hammers.

Sunghoon watches you, his gaze steady, his body too relaxed, too effortless—like he’s waiting for something.

Like he wants to see what you’ll do next.

You inhale sharply, trying not to notice the way his sweatpants ride low on his hips, the way his shirt is loose enough to show a sliver of his collarbone, the way he looks completely unaffected when you’re burning.

You hate him.

You hate how good he is at this.

You take a step forward, planting your hands on the armrest, leaning in, forcing his attention back to your face.

“If you’re not going to take care of yourself,” you murmur, “then I will.”

Sunghoon exhales slowly, his jaw flexing slightly.

The tension between you pulls tighter.

He doesn’t move away. He doesn’t blink. He just sits there, waiting.

You don’t know if it’s waiting for the fight, or waiting for something else. You don’t know which one you want more.

For a second—just a second—your eyes flicker to his mouth. And you swear—you swear—his do the same.

Before either of you can do something you can’t take back—

Your phone buzzes from across the room. The moment shatters.

You inhale sharply, stepping back, hands dropping from the armrest. Sunghoon’s eyes flicker, his breath just slightly uneven now, but he doesn’t say anything.

You turn away first. You pretend your hands aren’t shaking.

You don’t look at him when you grab your phone off the counter, checking the notification even though you didn’t read a single word of it.

The moment is over. But neither of you breathe the same after that.

You hadn't planned for this.

You hadn't planned on seeing Sunghoon in the hallway, hadn't planned on him looking at you like that—like he was about to ruin you, like he needed to.

But the moment he stepped into your space, the moment his breath ghosted over your skin, you felt the air shift. It was thick, weighted with something that neither of you had the energy to resist anymore.

"Tell me you don’t want this." His voice is low, quiet but firm, laced with something deeper than just lust—something closer to desperation.

Instead of answering, your fingers twist into the front of his shirt and you pull him in.

Sunghoon exhales sharply, his restraint snapping the second your mouth meets his. He moves fast—too fast, like he's been starving for this, like he's afraid it'll slip through his fingers if he hesitates. His hands are on your waist, then your back, gripping at you like he's trying to memorize every inch.

The kiss is messy, uncoordinated, filled with teeth and tongues and frustration. Months of pent-up tension, of silent longing, of unsaid words spill into every movement. He presses you into the wall, hips flush against yours, and you feel it—how hard he is, how much he's holding back, how badly he wants this.

"You drive me fucking crazy," he mutters against your lips, his breath ragged.

"Then do something about it."

He groans, low and wrecked, before lifting you effortlessly, hands gripping under your thighs as he carries you through the house. He doesn’t stop kissing you—not when he stumbles slightly into a wall, not when he nearly knocks over a lamp.

You barely make it to the couch before he’s pushing you down, hovering over you, eyes dark with something too raw to name.

His hands move fast—too fast—pulling at your clothes, impatient, frantic. His fingers tremble slightly as he drags your shirt over your head, his lips instantly finding the newly exposed skin, teeth grazing, biting, soothing with his tongue.

"Fuck—" he exhales, hands gripping at your hips, his forehead pressing against your shoulder for a second. Like he's catching his breath. Like this is overwhelming him.

You tilt his chin up, forcing him to look at you.

"Sunghoon."

His eyes flicker to yours, something wrecked flashing across his face before he swallows hard, his fingers tightening on your skin.

"Say it again."

His lips ghost over your collarbone, his breath unsteady. You shudder.

"Sunghoon."

That’s all it takes. Then—his mouth is on you, his hands everywhere, his body pressing against yours like he’s trying to crawl inside your skin.

He whispers your name over and over, between gasps and curses, between kisses that feel too much like confessions.

And when he finally pushes inside you, his forehead drops to yours, his breath heavy, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I missed you. You were my life, you were my life."

It’s not just sex. It never was. It’s him finally admitting what neither of you have said out loud. And you don't stop him.

Because you missed him too.

The air is warm, thick with the scent of sweat and skin and something distinctly Sunghoon. His body is still pressed against yours, not with the desperation of before but with something softer, something that lingers.

Your fingers trace absentminded patterns over his back, your body still humming from him, from this, from everything.

His hand is still resting against your hip, fingers brushing against your skin, like he’s memorizing the feeling, like he’s making sure it doesn’t disappear.

You let your eyes flutter shut for a moment, exhaling slowly. You could stay like this. You could let yourself be comfortable in this silence, in the warmth of his body, in the knowledge that—for once—you both stopped fighting.

But then, he shifts slightly, pressing his forehead against your shoulder before mumbling, “We should slow down.”

Your brows pull together slightly.

Did you hear that right? You open your eyes, tilting your head to glance down at him.

"What?"

Sunghoon exhales, leaning up on one elbow, his free hand still resting on your waist, thumb rubbing lazy circles against your skin.

"I mean, we don’t have to rush this," he says, voice quieter now, more careful. His eyes flicker over your face, something unreadable in them. "I don’t want to fuck this up again."

Your breath catches slightly.

He doesn’t want this to be just about sex. He doesn’t want to let himself have you only to lose you again. He wants to be careful with you.

But you nod anyway, pretending that the way your chest tightens isn’t real. "Okay."

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow. "Okay?"

"Mhm."

Then, slowly, you shift, straddling his waist, your fingers resting lightly on his chest.

Sunghoon stills immediately.

"What are you doing?" he asks, voice cautious, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your thighs.

Sunghoon’s head falls back against the couch, his jaw clenching. He wants to argue, you can tell, but the second you grind down again, all he manages is a sharp inhale, his fingers digging into your skin.

You smirk, tilting your head.

"I thought you wanted to take things slow."

His breath shudders. His grip on you tightens. Then he laughs—low, rough, almost amazed.

"You’re a fucking menace."

You barely have time to grin before he’s flipping you over, pressing you down into the cushions, his body caging you in.

"Slow?" he repeats, voice dropping, his lips hovering over your throat.

You try to keep up the act, but your breathing is already uneven, your body reacting to him before you can think.

"Isn’t that what you wanted?" you whisper, deliberately tilting your chin up in challenge.

Sunghoon exhales sharply, his lips barely ghosting over yours.

"I changed my mind."

You barely have time to react before his hands slide down your thighs, gripping, tugging, parting you for him again.

Your breath catches.

"Sunghoon–"

"No." He shakes his head, his mouth pressing against your jaw as he smirks. "No more talking."

His fingers move lower, teasing, pressing just enough to make you gasp. And that’s when you remember—he’s still recovering. Your hand shoots out, pressing against his chest.

"Wait."

Sunghoon stills, his brow furrowing slightly, his breathing uneven.

"You’re sick," you murmur, your lips brushing against his jaw. "Let me work for it instead."

His entire body tenses.

Your hands trail down his stomach, your fingers ghosting over the waistband of his sweatpants.

"You—" he tries, but his voice is hoarse now, breathless, wrecked.

You hum, tilting your head. "What?"

His jaw flexes.

Then, without another word, he lets himself fall back against the couch. His breath comes out shaky, his head tilting back, eyes fluttering shut.

"Then work for it."

It’s been a month since then and Sunghoon has finally fully returned to work.

He’s doing much better now. His energy is back, his balance has improved, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he actually looks like himself again.

You’re not sure what you expected when he came back. Maybe for things to go back to the way they were before, full of sharp remarks and tension that could snap a room in half. Or maybe for things to be awkward, unspoken things lingering between you in ways that made your employees suffer secondhand stress.

But instead? No one knows what the hell is happening anymore.

Because while you and Sunghoon aren’t exactly different, something has… shifted.

The first sign of something weird happening was the lack of fighting.

A month ago, meetings with both of you in the same room meant employees visibly sweating, taking deep breaths beforehand, and updating their wills in secret.

Now?

Now, Sunghoon pulls out a chair for you before sitting down. Now, you ask his opinion instead of shutting it down immediately. Now, he actually listens when you talk.

People are concerned.

📲 [Executive Team Group Chat] 👥 Sunoo, Riki, Jungwon, Misc. Employees

🐧 Sunoo: guys. wtf is going on.🐥 Jungwon: ??? 🐧 Sunoo: i just saw boss lady n ceo actually agree on something in a meeting. no insults. no glaring. NO ONE DIED.🐱 Riki: LIAR.🐧 Sunoo: i have receipts.

(Sunoo sends a screenshot of the meeting notes. The section labeled 'Conflict Resolution' is EMPTY. Unedited. No bloodshed.)

🐥 Jungwon: I mean. That’s… good? Right? 🐱 Riki: NO IT’S NOT GOOD. THIS IS LIKE WATCHING PARENTS WHO USED TO HATE EACH OTHER BE WEIRDLY FLIRTY. I’M TRAUMATIZED. 🐧 Sunoo: EXACTLY.

📲 [Legal Team Group Chat] 👥 You, Your Team

⚖️ Paralegal #1: So uh. Boss.⚖️ Paralegal #2: What the hell is going on with you and CEO Park?⚖️ Paralegal #3: Did we miss a memo? Is this a prank? Are you sedated?

You roll your eyes, already regretting checking your messages.

📲 [You → Legal Team]: What are you talking about?

⚖️ Paralegal #2: You didn’t threaten to resign after he questioned your contract amendments today. You just. Smiled??⚖️ Paralegal #3: YOU AGREED WITH HIM ON SOMETHING. WE ALL SAW IT.⚖️ Paralegal #1: YOU LAUGHED AT SOMETHING HE SAID.⚖️ Paralegal #2: YOU LAUGHED, BOSS. AT HIS JOKE.⚖️ Paralegal #3: Do we need to call HR? Blink if you’re in danger.

📲 [You → Legal Team]: Go do your jobs.

It happens after a late meeting. You and Sunghoon are the last ones leaving, walking toward the elevators. Everyone else is pretending to be busy, but they’re totally watching.

The elevator doors slide open. You step inside first, then turn slightly—instinctively holding out your hand. Sunghoon takes it.

Casually. Like it’s normal. Like you always do this. And then—he laces your fingers together.

The doors slide shut.

Riki visibly short-circuits.

📲 [Executive Team Group Chat]

🐱 Riki: GUYS I JUST SAW THEM HOLD HANDS. IN THE ELEVATOR. IN PUBLIC. I NEED TO LIE DOWN. 🐧 Sunoo: Riki. Riki are you there. 🐥 Jungwon: Someone sedate him before he starts screaming. 🐧 Sunoo: THAT’S IT I’M STARTING A BETTING POOL. HOW LONG BEFORE THEY GET MARRIED (AGAIN). 🐱 Riki: I CAN’T BREATHE.

The company gala had been suffocating. Hours of pretending, of schmoozing, of wearing polite smiles while the weight of Sunghoon’s gaze burned against your skin the entire night. He hadn’t touched you once. Not in front of the board members, not during the champagne toast, not even when his fingers brushed against yours as he handed you a drink.

But he was watching.

And now, in the backseat of his car, that restraint is gone.

The moment the driver pulls away from the curb, Sunghoon’s hand is on your thigh, gripping—hard. His palm is warm against the skin exposed by the slit of your dress, fingers flexing like he’s holding himself back, like he’s trying to decide how far he’ll let himself go.

He doesn’t speak.

You don’t either.

Because you both know where this is going.

The city blurs past the windows, streetlights flickering across his sharp jawline, his loosened tie, the slight rise and fall of his chest as he exhales.

And then—his hand slides higher.

Your breath catches.

"You knew exactly what you were doing tonight." His voice is low, almost amused, but there’s a sharp edge to it, something dark and controlled.

You shift slightly, not moving away, letting his fingers graze the crease of your inner thigh. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Sunghoon exhales a short laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

His hand tightens.

"You wanted me like this, didn’t you?" His fingers ghost over your clothed core, pressing just enough to make your legs twitch. "Parading around all night in this dress, pretending you weren’t soaking through your panties while you smiled at those executives."

Your stomach flips.

You don’t respond.

Sunghoon doesn’t need you to.

Because the moment you shift your legs slightly wider—silent permission—he knows.

And that’s when he loses it.

The car jerks to a sudden stop.

The driver turns slightly. “We’re at the—”

"We won’t be long," Sunghoon interrupts smoothly, his fingers already curling around your wrist.

Then, he yanks you into his lap.

You gasp at the sudden movement, hands bracing against his chest, but he doesn’t give you a second to adjust. His mouth is on yours before you can speak, rough and claiming, all tongue and teeth.

"You’re mine," he breathes against your lips, his hands gripping your ass as he pulls you flush against him. You can feel how hard he is beneath you, his cock straining against his pants, pressing against your clothed core.

"Say it."

You bite your lip, pretending to consider, just to piss him off. "Make me."

Sunghoon growls, his fingers twisting into your hair as he yanks your head back, exposing your throat. His mouth is on you immediately, biting, sucking, marking.

"My wife thinks she’s a fucking tease." His lips drag against your pulse, his voice dark, edged with something dangerous. "That’s cute."

His hands slide up your thighs, bunching your dress up to your hips. When his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, he doesn’t bother taking them off. He just pulls, fabric tearing effortlessly in his grip.

"Sunghoon—"

"Shut up."

His hand moves between your legs, fingers dragging through your slick folds. He groans, his forehead pressing against your shoulder for half a second, like he’s barely holding himself together.

"You’re fucking soaked." His fingers circle your clit, slow, teasing, deliberate. "You really get off on being treated like a brat, don’t you?"

Your breath stutters. You hate how much his words affect you.

But Sunghoon notices.

He always does.

His free hand slides up your back, gripping the back of your neck before wrapping around your throat. He squeezes—not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your pulse stutter beneath his fingers.

"Answer me."

You swallow, the pressure of his grip making your head spin.

"I—" Your voice catches when he presses down on your clit at the same time, two fingers slipping inside you. Your body jolts at the stretch, at the pressure, at the way he fills you without hesitation.

"That’s what I thought," he murmurs, his mouth brushing against your ear. "Always such a fucking mess for me."

His fingers work you open too fast, too rough, curling against the spot that makes you see stars. Your hips roll against his hand, chasing it, and Sunghoon laughs—low and wrecked.

"That desperate already?"

You don’t get a chance to respond before he’s flipping you onto your back, pressing you down against the leather seat.

Your head spins.

His hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, spreading you open, dragging his cock through your slick folds before he presses against your entrance.

"You want it?" His voice is strained, his jaw tight.

"Yes—"

But he doesn’t give you time to beg.

Because in the next second—he’s inside you, all at once, filling you to the hilt.

Your back arches off the seat, a choked sound escaping your throat.

Sunghoon groans, his head dropping forward, his grip bruising where he holds your hips down. "Fuck—look at you. Taking my cock so fucking well."

You barely have time to breathe before he starts moving.

No easing into it. No gentleness.

Just rough, deep thrusts that knock the air from your lungs.

"You feel that?" His hand wraps around your throat again, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur at the edges. "This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? My wife acting like a whore all night just so I could fuck her stupid in the back of a car”

You moan, the humiliation making your skin burn in the best way.

"That’s right," he grits out, snapping his hips harder, his other hand gripping your thigh, pushing it higher. "Let me hear you."

The car rocks with the force of it, every thrust sending pleasure shooting through your spine. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your body shaking, your release already close, already—

"Come on, baby," he murmurs, his breath ragged, his forehead pressing against yours. "Come on my cock. Be a good fucking girl for me."

And you do.

You shatter beneath him, your body tensing, your thighs trembling as your orgasm crashes through you.

Sunghoon follows right after, his rhythm stuttering before he buries himself deep, his groan breaking into something almost desperate. His fingers flex against your throat before finally, finally, he lets go.

The car is silent except for your uneven breaths.

Sunghoon leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead, softer now, his breathing still shaky. His fingers trail down your side, slow, absentminded, like he’s grounding himself.

The only sound in the car is the rhythmic rise and fall of your breathing, the occasional rustling of fabric as Sunghoon shifts slightly against you. The intensity of what just happened lingers between you, crackling in the air like an aftershock, leaving both of you too warm, too tangled, too unwilling to move just yet.

He’s still inside you, still pressed close, his body a solid weight over yours, grounding, steadying. Neither of you speak, and for a while, you simply let the quiet settle, let your fingers drift absently over his back, tracing slow, lazy shapes.His forehead is against yours, his breath deep and uneven, warm against your lips.

Eventually, he exhales, the sound low, almost satisfied, before tilting his head to press a slow, lingering kiss to your temple. His hand shifts from where it had been gripping your thigh, his touch gentler now, a stark contrast to how he had held you earlier—fierce, possessive, unwilling to let you go. Now, his fingers just rest against your skin, smoothing over the curve of your waist, the warmth of his palm familiar.

"You okay?" His voice is rough from exertion, still heavy with something raw and unspoken.

You hum, nodding slightly, your cheek brushing against his. You can’t quite find the words yet—your body still feels like it’s floating, caught between exhaustion and bliss.

Sunghoon shifts just slightly, pulling back just enough to look at you. His gaze sweeps over your face, studying you carefully, before his lips curve into a small, amused smile.

"I’ll take that as a yes." His fingers trace slow circles against your hip, his touch absentminded but deliberate, like he doesn’t quite want to stop touching you yet.

You blink up at him, still dazed, your limbs pleasantly heavy, your skin oversensitive in the best way. His words barely register before he shifts, withdrawing from you slowly. A quiet whimper catches in your throat at the loss, your body instinctively tightening around nothing.

Sunghoon notices.

His gaze darkens again, his jaw flexing slightly before he exhales through his nose, visibly restraining himself. He tilts his head, one brow raising ever so slightly, smug in a way that makes your stomach twist.

"Look at you," he murmurs, voice low, watching as his release slowly drips out of you, glistening on your inner thighs.His fingers trace your swollen entrance, dragging along the slick mess he’s made, spreading it just to watch you squirm.

"So messy," he muses, voice teasing but full of something heavier, more possessive.

Heat spreads across your cheeks, embarrassment creeping in at how wrecked you must look, your thighs still trembling, your breath uneven. You turn your head slightly, muttering under your breath, "Shut up."

Sunghoon chuckles, clearly too pleased with himself. His fingers move to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze again.

"Don’t do that," he murmurs, his voice quieter now, lower, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

You frown slightly, not quite understanding. "Do what?"

His thumb presses just slightly harder, a silent reprimand, a reminder that he’s still in control.

"Act shy now," he says, watching you too closely, too knowingly. His smirk is slow, deliberate, confident in a way that makes your stomach flip. "You just let me fuck you stupid in the back of my car."

Your cheeks burn hotter, mortification creeping in. You scoff, shoving at his chest halfheartedly, but he doesn’t budge."I hate you."

His laughter is soft, low, a rumble against your skin as he presses another kiss—this time to your jaw, then lower, trailing lazily toward your throat.

"No, you love me."

You take a deep breath “I do.”

He looks surprised, shocked almost, “You– you do?”

You nod. “I do, ” you look at him expectantly, “You love me?”

He laughs deep and loud, a real laugh, grabs your face in his hands forcing you closer, “Baby, when did I ever stop?”

Before you can dwell on it, there’s a knock on the window.

You freeze.

Sunghoon sighs, clearly unfazed, barely even reacting before he reaches over to roll down the window slightly.

Outside, the driver stands with an expression so perfectly neutral it’s almost comedic, like this is just another Tuesday night for him.

"Mr. Park," he says, his tone entirely professional, unaffected. "Should I… call another car for you two?"

You bury your face in Sunghoon’s shoulder, mortified.

Sunghoon, as expected, looks completely unbothered.

"No need," he replies smoothly, his fingers absently stroking your thigh as if nothing had just happened. "We’ll be heading home in a bit."

The driver nods curtly, not even blinking. "I’ll be outside."

And then, just like that, he walks away.

You groan, still refusing to lift your head. "I can never face him again."

Sunghoon laughs softly, his hand sliding up to rub slow, soothing circles against your back.

"You’ll live, you love me." he murmurs, his voice warm, teasing, but laced with something softer. His fingers thread into your hair, tilting your head up just slightly. His lips brush against yours, slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment.

"Let me clean you up."

You blink up at him, your chest tightening for reasons entirely unrelated to sex.

"You don’t have to—"

His hand tightens in your hair, not to hurt, just to keep you still. He shakes his head slightly, cutting you off before you can finish the thought.

"I want to," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours again, softer this time. "I take care of what’s mine. Of what I love."

Something invisible but heavy lodges itself in your throat.

Because he means it. Because this isn’t just sex, or routine, or an easy way to pass the time. This is him showing you, in the quietest way possible, that he loves you.

And when he kisses you again, when he reaches for a tissue to carefully clean the mess between your thighs, when he murmurs something under his breath about how ‘his wife shouldn’t be walking around with his cum dripping down her legs’

You don’t ever want to lose this again.

EPILOGUE

It starts the same way it did last time.

The nausea creeps in slowly—subtle at first, nothing out of the ordinary. You assume it’s from overworking yourself, the stress of handling legal negotiations, or maybe even just the exhaustion of being married to a man who refuses to listen when you tell him to take breaks.

Sunghoon notices before you do.

At first, it’s little things—the way you lean against the counter a little longer in the mornings, the way your appetite fluctuates, the way you pause mid-sentence with a sudden grimace, like something doesn’t sit right in your stomach. He watches you closer than usual, his sharp eyes following you whenever you touch your lower abdomen absentmindedly, whenever you shake your head at food that you normally love.

And then, one morning, you feel it.

The moment you stand up from bed, a wave of nausea crashes into you so violently that you barely make it to the bathroom in time.

You hear him before you see him—footsteps, the rustling of sheets, the quiet, urgent sound of his voice calling your name as he reaches for you.

"Hey—what’s wrong?" Sunghoon is kneeling beside you in seconds, his hand warm and steady against your back, rubbing slow, grounding circles as you try to catch your breath. His fingers stroke through your hair gently, not rushing you, not asking anything else yet.

You grip the edge of the sink, exhaling shakily, your heartbeat too loud, your pulse erratic.

Because this feels familiar. Too familiar. And that’s when you know. Sunghoon stills when you don’t answer right away.

"Baby." His voice is softer now, careful. "Look at me."

Something unreadable flickers across his face—shock, realization, something dangerously close to hope.

He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t need to. Because he knows, too.

And that’s how you find yourself sitting on the bathroom floor minutes later, staring at the test clutched in your hands, the two pink lines undeniable.

Sunghoon sits beside you, his knee brushing against yours, his breathing measured but uneven. He doesn’t reach for it. He doesn’t take it from your hands.

Instead, he just looks at you.

"Are we...?" His voice is barely above a whisper, raw in a way you rarely hear.

Your fingers tighten around the test, your throat thick with emotion. You nod, swallowing hard before murmuring, "Yeah."

Sunghoon exhales, slow and unsteady, like he’s been holding his breath for years. His head tilts forward slightly, his eyes squeezing shut for a second before he lifts them back to you. His gaze is so full of something it knocks the air from your lungs.

"How do you feel?" he asks quietly.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, part relief, part disbelief. "Like I might throw up again."

A short chuckle escapes him—not out of amusement, but out of something else, something lighter.

Then, slowly, he reaches for you.

His hands slide over your cheeks, fingertips pressing just slightly, like he’s trying to make sure you’re real, like he’s trying to ground himself in this moment. His thumb strokes over your cheekbone, his breath fanning against your lips as he leans in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, close enough that you can feel the slight tremble in his touch.

The positive test sits between you both, abandoned on the bathroom counter, but neither of you look at it anymore. You don’t need to.

Because all you can focus on is him—the way his chest rises and falls unsteadily, the way his lips part like he wants to say something but doesn’t quite know how.

And then, finally, he does.

"I won’t fail you this time."

His voice is rough, barely above a whisper, but it hits you harder than anything else.

Your breath catches in your throat, your fingers tightening slightly where they rest against his shoulders. His eyes are so unbearably soft when they meet yours, but there’s something else there, too—something raw, something desperate.

"I won’t lose you. I won’t lose them," he murmurs, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you fully against him, like he can shield you from anything and everything that might try to take this from him again.

A lump forms in your throat, because this is what he’s been carrying.

This is what he never let himself say out loud.

"You never failed me, Sunghoon," you whisper, your fingers moving to cup his face, "We lost them together."

Sunghoon swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

"I should have held you. I should have been better. I should have—" His breath stumbles, and for the first time, you see it—the way his control wavers, the way the guilt still lingers, thick and unbearable.

"Hey." You press a hand against his chest, feeling the unsteady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. "You don’t have to do this alone anymore."

Sunghoon exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours.

"I don’t deserve this," he murmurs, his grip tightening around you.

"You do." You don’t hesitate. "And we’re going to do this right this time."

His breath shudders. And then—he kisses you.

It’s not like before. It’s not desperate, or punishing, or laced with frustration. It’s slow, deep, lingering. It’s an apology, a vow, a promise.

When he pulls away, his lips hover just above yours, his eyes searching, waiting for something.

"Stay," he whispers. "Stay with me. Stay here. Always."

You smile, pressing your forehead against his.

"I already did."

fin.

Taglist: @vrusha01 @cupiddolle @naurwayyyyy @ziiao @somuchdard @hveanlyanqelic @miuwonis @outroherrr @weyukinluv @riribelle @wonzbear @zhangyi-johee @randomanothercreature @wolfhardbby @httpenhoon @annovaz @seonhoon @lovelycassy @noidnoentry @btsreadss @linlianxin @icrieliterature @aussie-boys-wife @woniefull @ikeuwoniee @en-doll @ambi01 @thinkinboutbin @tobiosbbyghorl @semi-wife @fancypeacepersona @exhaleinhalepowder @firstclassjaylee @ijustwannareadstuff20 @nshmrarki

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jeonginsleftcheek · 4 months ago

Text

Between these four walls

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

genre: thriller/sci-fi, smut, fluff

synopsis: lee felix is your 89% match. please proceed to the house assigned to you where your relationship will be subjected to various tests. if you manage to complete all objectives and get your match to 100% you may proceed to leave. sex is strictly prohibited. remember, they're always watching.

wc: 13.4k

warnings: desc. of drowning, illness, drugging, tripping (psychedelics/stimulants), mention of needles, paralysis, gutting a fish (yes that's a warning), some blood

nsfw warnings: fingering, handjob, unprotected sex, spanking, cumshot

a/n: felix always inspires me for these kinds of concepts. i hope you enjoy💜

~ divider by @anitalenia

~ masterlist

Lee Felix. 89% match. Congratulations!

You stared at the device in your hand, your heartbeat picking up speed. Finally. Finally you had someone you matched with. The last time you tried a similar, underdeveloped program like this, it only led you to more disappointment and heartbreak.

But, everyone you knew was raving about Cupid Corp. and how they found the love of their life after participating in their program. You asked questions, curious about why they stayed so long in the Cupid Corp. village, what they had to do to get their match to a 100, to walk out with them hand in hand.

Their faces would change from the happy expressions and shiny eyes into something dull, drained of color.

"We signed a document that prohibits us from revealing anything." they'd answer.

It all sounded so mysterious and a little alarming but you were so damn tired of being lonely and seeing all these people walking out of Cupid Corp. with big dumb smiles on their faces.

So, after doing some thinking, you applied.

It was a long process, to say the least. There were tests you had to take, all of them online. Starting with a psychological test, then an IQ test, then a personality test. It took them a month as they asked for everything, from your family disease history to your hopes and dreams for the future.

The more data they gathered, the more detailed your profile became. You even had a few online interviews with a woman named 'Cherry' whose face you couldn't see as she was wearing some sort of mask, only her cherry red lips were visible to you.

"We will take your data into consideration and calculate the best match. Thank you for applying at Cupid Corp. We hope you find your dream lover." the woman talked in a monotone voice.

You didn't wait for too long. Only four days later, you got a package from them, inside it a round device with a screen and one button. You pressed it and when it came to life you were greeted with your match. Just his name and the percentage.

With it, you got a document that stated the location of the village as well as your house number, 14B and a ton of rules, most of them prohibiting you from talking about the activities and 'tests' inside the village as well as a 'no cellphone' rule. You thought it was kind of weird, but you didn't want to back out now. Not when you had a match with such a high number.

It can't be so hard to get it up to 100, right?

You read through all the rules, coming up to the last one.

'You and your partner are not allowed to engage in sexual activites during your stay in the village. Kissing and physical touch is fine unless it is erotic or stimulating in that sort of way. After you sign this paper, you have agreed to all the rules above and are aware that you will be filmed and monitored 24/7.'

You gulped, some kind of unease washing over you as you stared at the document. The little cupid drawing that was the company's logo looked so sweet and innocent but it didn't help the churning of your stomach. Taking a deep breath in, you grabbed you pen and signed the paper.

There is no going back now.

As soon as you entered the village through the gate, it felt like you walked right into a fairytale. The houses were all pretty pastel colors with white picked fences and gardens full of all sorts of beautiful flowers. Everything looked perfect.

The only weird thing was that you didn't see another person anywhere as you walked. It was eerily quiet, only your footsteps were echoing on the pavement and the sounds of your suitcase being dragged behind you. The village was far away from the bustling city so you couldn't hear any sound for miles.

Then you saw it, 14B, a pretty pastel blue house and you smiled to yourself, it looked so cute and cozy. Your heart suddenly skipped a beat when you noticed someone standing outside by the fence.

It was a guy close to your age, and as soon as he noticed you coming towards him, a big smile spread on his face. He waved awkwardly and you waved back as you neared him, your heart hammering in your chest. When you got closer to him, your stomach did a little flip.

He is so beautiful!, you thought as you observed his smiling face, his warm chocolate eyes, his plump heart shaped lips and all the pretty freckles adorning his skin.

"I'm Felix. Nice to meet you." he said, pleasantly shocking you with his deep voice.

"Y/n. Nice to meet you too." you smiled, your face burning up. You hoped you didn't look like an awkward tomato in front of this beautiful man, who was your match! You were already swooning over him as he helped you get your suitcase inside, dragging both of your luggage together while you looked around the garden.

"I guess this is our house." he said as the two of you walked in. You noticed right away that it was decorated in the way you wanted to decorate your dream house, a question you had to answer in one of the tests they gave you. You also noticed some knick knacks you didn't recognize, they were probably something Felix wanted to have in his house.

"They really went all out with the decorations." you said as the two of you made your way to the kitchen and Felix chuckled.

"They did." he nodded, the air between you a little awkward.

"Oh. What's this?" you noticed an envelope adressed to the both of you on the kitchen table.

You picked it up and opened it as Felix peered over your shoulder.

"Dear Felix and Y/n. Welcome to our Village of Love! We hope you enjoy your stay, no matter how short or long it is. You'll find everything you need inside your house, we hope you find it cozy and that you settle in well. Take your time to get used to your surroundings and learn a little about each other before you move onto the next phase. Tests will begin shortly. Have fun!" you read out loud before looking up and seeing a camera staring right at you, the red dot blinking.

"Tests, huh? Doesn't sound too fun." Felix said and you nodded.

"No, it doesn't." you shook your head. "Do you know anything about what happens here?"

"I have no idea. I asked a few of my friends and no one would tell me."

"Isn't that kind of suspicious?" you asked and Felix chuckled nervously, looking up at the camera.

"Aren't they like listening to us right now?" he whispered.

"I'm sure everyone who came here wondered about the program." you shrugged.

"I guess we will find out." Felix said, still being somewhat quiet as he kept eyeing the camera.

You walked over to the fridge and opened it, finding all sorts of groceries inside it, mostly your favorite food and probably Felix's.

"Hungry?" you looked back at him and as if on que, his stomach growled.

You giggled and he laughed, the sound filling up your ears and tugging at your heart.

"I'll take that as a yes. Do you wanna cook together?" you asked and he nodded eagerly.

"I'd love that." Felix answered with a sweet smile so the two of you pulled your sleeves up and washed your hands, getting ready to tackle dinner together as you maneuvered the unknown space.

"What made you decide to apply to this program? You don't seem like you'd have a problem finding a partner." you started the conversation and his cheeks became rosy as he chuckled.

"Well, I tend to fall for the wrong people. The ones who use my kindness against me. And I really don't wanna hurt anymore or just experiment and 'try' again. I want to know that I have the real deal, you know? To be sure that the person is my ride or die."

The honesty in his answer took you by surprise.

'I want my partner to always be honest with me, to tell me the truth even if it is painful.'

You remembered the line you wrote when you were asked to put down on paper everything you wanted in a partner. They had probably looked at Felix's personality test as well as yours, and the things you had written down as your dream partner, putting the two of you together that way.

Your cheeks burned as you remembered how high your percentage is. He must really be the man from your dreams which would make you the woman of his. Butterflies swarmed your stomach.

"What about you?" Felix snapped you out of your thoughts as you continued cleaning the meat.

"Oh, same. I was disappointed many times before. I just want to find someone that will feel like home." you smiled at him.

"Exactly." he agreed. "So, what do you think the tests will look like? Do you think they'll be similar to the ones we had to do while applying?"

"My guess is as good as yours. Though, I must admit I do feel a bit uneasy with all the people not being allowed to say what happened while they were here..." you trailed off, before sighing.

"Then again, they all looked so happy with their partners." you finished. "And I want that."

"Yeah, I feel a bit uneasy myself but we'll go through this together, right?" Felix gave you a shy smile and you nodded as your cheeks warmed up.

After cooking dinner and eating, you had learned a bit more about each other, finding it incredibly easy to keep the conversation going like you've already talked many times before, sharing similar viewpoints and interests. It seemed too easy and you knew that you didn't have to necessarily agree on everything or love all the same things to be a match.

There was definitely something deeper there than the superficial stuff like hobbies and favorite colors when you've already gotten to 89% without even interacting with each other.

"Should we do a tour of the house?" Felix asked when you finished cleaning up.

"Sure, let's do it." you smiled and one by one, you visited all of the rooms starting with the living room that was next to the kitchen.

"Oh, we have a tv." you pursed your lips. "I thought we weren't allowed any kind of electronics."

"I guess they thought having movie nights at home is a date we'd both enjoy." Felix pointed to all the dvds on the shelves around the tv. "We have a good collection of every genre. Skipping horror though, I'm not a fan of scary things." he visibly shivered and you chuckled a little.

"I'm fine with those." you said and Felix gasped a little.

"Well if you want us to watch horror movies together just be prepared that I will be hiding behind like five blankets and probably crying my eyes out."

"Aw, it's okay, we don't have to watch them if they scare you so much." you smiled at him, making his heart skip a beat.

"I'll watch them for you. Well, kinda watch them since I'll be under all those protective blankets."

You chuckled together before you made your way upstairs. Your heart immediately skipped a beat and a shiver ran through your entire body when you saw the bed. Of course, you were meant to sleep together in it.

Felix noticed you staring at it, both of your faces red.

"I can sleep downstairs on the couch." he said, as if reading your mind.

"No!" you said a little too quickly. "I mean, I'd feel a lot safer if you were here with me." you admitted sheepishly.

"Oh." his smile was shy. "Then I'll be here with you."

Gosh, he is so sweet!, you thought, feeling overwhelmed that such a sweet person was your very own match. Not even a day with him and he already checked so many of your boxes. You hoped he felt the same for you.

"We have separate bathrooms." Felix noted and you looked to the right to see a door labeled with your name and on the left his name.

"I think there are no cameras in there, so that's why..." he trailed off and immediately you felt your stomach doing flips. They were really making sure you don't do any funny business which was kind of understandable since everything was being filmed. But then again, why wouldn't they make a special room for the two of you? You had so many questions and any possible answer created even more questions.

The two of you then decided to unpack, the sounds of opening and closing drawers filling up the space.

"We have a backyard." Felix said as he stood by the window in your room. "And a pool."

"It looks cozy except the pool. I don't know how to swim." you confessed, shivering a little.

"Really?" Felix looked a bit surprised. "Well, I love swimming so you can sunbathe while I swim?" he added with a giggle.

"I can." you nodded. "The entire house and the neighborhood looks so nice. Which brings me to this, have you seen another person since you got here?" you asked and Felix shook his head no.

"Neither have I. Weird, huh?" you said.

Felix opened his mouth to answer but the sound the doorbell ringing frightened you both.

"Is that... someone at the door?" he lifted one eyebrow.

"Let's go check together." you stood by his side as your heart hammered in your chest.

Felix walked first and you followed behind him, peering over his shoulders as he slowly opened the door.

You were greeted by a smiling woman and man, standing somewhat similarly to you and Felix.

"Hello, sorry to bother you. I'm Gina and this is Ethan. We were paired up today and noticed we were neighbours so we just wanted to say hi."

"Oh." Felix chuckled and you visibly relaxed, now standing beside him.

"This is y/n, and I'm Felix. Nice to meet you." you all shook hands, deciding to meet up tomorrow for breakfast since the program encouraged couples who were paired up at the same time to become friends.

"You okay?" Felix asked after closing the door.

"I just can't shake off this weird feeling." you shook your head.

Felix bit on his lip, his eyes raking all over your form gently as you hugged yourself. Tentatively, he reach out and brushed his knuckles on your cheek.

"I'm sure you just need time to adjust." he smiled, and you shivered from his gentle touch, your eyes fluttering.

"Yeah. Maybe a good night's sleep is all I need."

"There you go. Positive thoughts." Felix smiled brightly, warming you up instantly.

You got ready in your separate bathrooms and you came out first, claiming your side of the bed as you sat, leaning your back against the headboard and fidgeting with your fingers. Felix came in after a minute or so, smiling at you slightly as he hesitantly lifted up the covers and slid in.

"You sure you're okay with this?" he turned to you, his deep brown eyes looking big and doe like.

"Yes, I'm comfortable." you nodded. "You?"

"Of course. Just making sure you feel okay." Felix then smiled sweetly, making your stomach flip again.

"I am." you whispered. "Um, it's just weird not to have my phone to play with before sleeping." you looked around, noticing a stack of books on a shelf.

"Tell me about it. I'm like chronically online, it's a problem." Felix shook his head with a chuckle. "Or like playing videogames. My computer will be so dusty when we get out of here."

You giggled at him as he scrunched up his face and made a cute whiny sound.

"I like videogames too. We should play together soon."

"Wow, you really are the girl of my dreams." Felix looked at you, wiggling his eyebrows and you laughed, your entire body on fire from the giddiness he made you feel.

He slid down then, getting comfy on his side and you followed suit, relaxing between the clean sheets and melting into the soft pillow.

"How long do you think it will take us to get out of here?" you whispered after a few moments of silence.

"I hope not too long." Felix whispered back. "Sweet dreams, y/n." he added after another pause.

"Night, Felix." you smiled before turning on your side and closing your eyes.

You were nervous for what's to come but Felix's presence gave you a sense of comfort and safety you didn't know you needed. Just the sound of his breathing calmed you down and slowly lulled you to sleep.

Your eyes fluttered open and for a moment you were completely confused. You blinked a few times, rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes as you took in your surroundings.

Right. You had come to the Village of Love yesterday, with your match. Which made you turn around quickly and gasp when you noticed the other side of the bed was empty.

"F-Felix?" you said, your voice a little raspy from sleeping. For a moment, you felt the dread creeping in but then you heard clinking, followed by a few curses coming from downstairs.

Upon arriving to the kitchen you were greeted by a frantic and disheveled Felix. You had to supress in a laugh, but it still seeped out in small giggles.

"Oh, y/n!" he exclaimed, turning around with his eyes slightly widened and his pink lips parted. "I barely slept last night so I got up like at 6am? I wanted to make myself useful so I tried making pancakes? I swear they taste better than they look! It's just that I'm usually not a morning person so-"

"Felix." you stopped his rambling, coming closer to him as you chuckled into your palm, your other hand gently placed on his arm to soothe him.

"Felix, it's okay. I'm sure the pancakes are delicious." you looked down at the half burned scraps of pancakes. "It's the thought that counts." you added with a giggle. "Aren't we meeting our neighbors for breakfast anyways?"

"Oh. That's right, we are. I'm silly." he sighed, turning the stove off with a defeated pout.

"You're cute." you said without thinking, your cheeks warming up as soon as those words left your mouth.

"You think so?" Felix chuckled, a little smirk forming on his lips and you nodded as he stared at you intently. "You're cuter." he leaned in, his breath hitting your face and you almost dissolved right then and there.

"Oh, shut up." you chuckled, making him laugh. "Let's go get dressed."

You got ready in your separate bathrooms, wondering how everything will play out for however long you'll be here. You decided to wear a dress with a floral pattern, something comfy and flowy. You hoped Felix would like it as much as you did.

And he seemed to be stunned the moment you walked out of the bathroom, giving you elevator eyes as he gulped visibly, his cheeks becoming rosy. You stood there nervously as he seemed to be lost in a trance.

"Felix?"

"Oh." he looked up at your face, the redness creeping up on his neck. "You look really pretty."

"Thank you." you giggled, your heart rate picking up while he smiled at you.

"Shall we?" he asked, reaching his hand towards you. You nodded, sliding your hand into his, your palms pressed together and fingers entwined.

They fit perfectly together, like two pieces of a puzzle that were waiting to be completed forever.

You met up with Gina and Ethan who were also holding hands, waving at you enthusiastically.

"Morning, neighbors!" Ethan smiled at the two of you.

"Good morning." you smiled back as everyone greeted each other.

"Did you get the map of the village?" Gina asked and Felix nodded.

"Found it in the living room this morning."

"Us too. Isn't it crazy having all these cameras around?" Gina chuckled and you looked around, noticing that all over the neighborhood there were cameras on every lamp post, every driveway, every front door.

The uneasiness settled in your chest again and you squeezed Felix's hand. He looked at you, squeezing back and giving you a small, reassuring smile. The restaurant wasn't too far away, it was a garden with lots of big trees giving shade to the tables, the sweet smell of colorful flowers mixed with the nice smell of food being cooked, making you even more hungry than you were. Finally, you saw other couples, chatting at different tables and you felt much more at ease. It felt normal.

There was soft music playing from the little building where you presumed the kitchen and servers were situated. The four of you found a table near a koi pond, excitement taking over you as you looked at the pretty fishes swimming around.

"I was about to reach for my phone and take a picture." Felix chuckled and Ethan nodded.

"Same." he said and you shook your head, thinking about how you'd probably do the same thing.

You stared at the koi fishes, who seemed to be mindlessly floating back and forth, confined in such a small pond. You wondered if they ever wanted more freedom, a bigger pond or was this all they knew so they could never think about having more space. Maybe they felt safe in a familiar, tiny enviroment.

One of the servers came to your table with a pen and notepad, writing down your orders and snapping you out of your thoughts.

The four of you made small talk before your food arrived.

"At least these pancakes look better than mine." Felix noted when the plate was placed before him and you chuckled.

"So, what do you guys think the tests will look like?" Gina asked suddenly while you ate. You looked up at the camera above your table and swallowed nervously.

"Isn't it kinda like a video game? We got a map of the place, we will have objectives or tests, we got our 'safe room', like our house where we have supplies..." Felix started and Ethan chuckled.

"I just hope there are no zombies or such. Or like damage." he added and the four of you laughed.

"I'm sure it can't be that bad." you said.

"How high is your percentage?" Gina asked.

"89%." you answered and she gasped a little.

"Ours is 74%. I guess we'll be here longer than y'all." she pouted.

"Well, we can't know that. When we have no idea what awaits us." Ethan said. He was right, you had no idea what Cupid Corp. planned out to put your connection to the test. Your eyes fell on the pond again, the koi fishes spinning around and around in circles, the repetitive motion almost making you dizzy.

"Do you wanna take a walk around the village?" Felix asked after you parted ways with the friendly couple next door.

"Yeah, sounds good. I need to get some blood flowing in my legs, we sat for so long."

"We did, I think we clicked with them too. Could it be they put us close to each other so we could become friends?" Felix asked when the two of you started walking, your hands entwined again, making your heart beat faster.

"Probably. I have a feeling nothing is random here." you pursed your lips.

"Me too." he agreed.

The village was really something out of a fairytale book. Not only were the houses cute but there was a cute bakery, a gallery, a flower shop, a cafe and a few other stores for groceries and such scattered around. There was even a little park for picnics and a forest to ride your bike or take a walk there. You saw other people working in all the buildings and couples walking around or sitting in the cafe or riding their bikes. It looked different than yesterday, when everything seemed eerily quiet and abandoned.

You and Felix talked about your families and job, getting to know some random facts about each other as you walked around, the sun warming your bodies up. It felt like you knew each other forever.

That evening, you decided to have your first movie night date. After a short debate since you were both indecisive, you settled on Clueless, a classic, and prepared some snacks and blankets to make the viewing more cozy.

Felix seemed a little nervous and fidgety as you got comfy on the couch, some distance created between you. He played with his fingers and the blanket, picking on it as you clicked play on the tv.

"You okay?" you asked and he nodded quickly, grabbing the bowl of popcorn.

"It's just... I like to cuddle while watching movies. Or um, I like to cuddle whenever, a lot. Physical touch is definitely one of my biggest love languages. I hope you're okay with that." Felix confessed, redness covering his freckled cheeks.

You sighed in relief, a giggle escaping your lips as you scooted closer to him, making his breath hitch.

"Okay? I'm estatic. I'm a big cuddler, it's one of my top love languages too." you nodded and Felix smiled sweetly at you.

"Right. I keep forgetting we matched so well and start feeling nervous. I don't wanna do something wrong, you know? And with the cameras watching, it adds to the awkwardness." he explained.

"I'll tell you if I'm uncomfortable with anything, okay? And you tell me too. Open communication is important." you said and Felix nodded, agreeing. "And forget about the cameras for now. I'm trying not to think about them supervising us the entire time. Let's just enjoy the movie."

"You're really sweet, y/n." Felix smiled cutely, his eyes shining as he stared at you, tongue darting out to wet his plump lips.

You followed the movement for a second, your heart fluttering.

"Says you." you chuckled, poking his cheek and he giggled, relaxing next to you and scooting even closer so that your legs and shoulders touched.

Pretty soon, both of you were relaxed, forgetting that you were being filmed as you enjoyed the movie, laughing and repeating the iconic lines. Your head ended up on Felix's shoulder at one point and his heart started beating fast instantly, his hand reaching for yours. He caressed your skin with his thumb as you giggled at the tv. You've never felt this comfortable with someone you just met.

The entire day was filled with positive experiences that you almost forgot about the weird dread gathering in the pit of your stomach.

You felt a huge attraction towards Felix, your body craved to be in his warmth and when you laid in bed next to him that night, you wanted nothing more than to roll over and hold him. But maybe it was too early for that, you thought as nervousness washed over you.

"Good night, y/n." his warm voice was quiet in the darkness of the room.

"Good night, Felix."

The man in the chair leaned over his computer, typing in the log of the day. The two of you were perfect subjects for this village, both of you sweet and kind, ready to welcome each other into your lives. He looked at all the screens that filmed your quiet house, eyes lingering on your calm, sleeping forms. Soon, everything will change.

A whole week has passed by perfectly. It was a little too quiet, too perfect for your liking. You wondered when the actual tests would start, when you were gonna get an envelope with some objective you have to fulfill. It made you feel uneasy the entire time and you had always trusted your intuition so you knew your gut feeling was right.

You had expressed this to Felix and even though he was nervous about the whole experience too, he tried to reassure you that it can't be that bad. That maybe the test had already started by just watching the two of you interact with each other.

It sounded plausible so it calmed you down just a little bit.

At the same time, you couldn't deny the connection building between you and your match. Felix was everything you ever wanted and more, kind and thoughtful, funny and sweet, he listened to you with interest, happy to know every little detail about you; his heart was pure and full of love, not just for you but for everyone. He made you melt on the spot with just one look and smile.

Every time you cuddled while watching movies, you got a little closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you, messing with your senses. You loved being close to him like that and he loved being held or holding you, it didn't matter as long as you were embracing each other in any way.

"It's such a beautiful sunny day. We could have a date by the pool?" Felix suggested one morning, batting his eyelashes at you and pouting cutely.

"Oh, sure. But I'll be watching you as I sunbathe because well, you know." you shrugged.

"Are you scared of the water? I could help you, teach you how to swim. It's good to face your fears." he smiled encouragingly and you chuckled, grabbing his hand.

"Maybe it is. I'll think about it." you smiled.

"Great! That's progress." Felix leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek and it was enough to make your heart burst.

For some reason, you didn't think about how the two of you will be almost naked by the pool and that thought crossed your mind only after you put your bathing suit on in the bathroom. A little gasp escaped your lips as your cheeks became completely red.

You decided to throw a little dress over your frame before you walked into the room. Felix was already waiting for you, dressed in swim trunks and a t-shirt. You blushed at the sight of his legs, mentally scolding yourself and trying to calm down your heart.

Felix didn't hesitate to throw his shirt off as soon as you got to the pool. Your eyes immediately went to his abs and chest, a warmness spreading within you as you shifted. He noticed your look, his face and ears warming up. He smirked a little, enjoying the fact that he made you squirm.

"Ugh, I- I left my sunscreen upstairs." you whined.

"I'll go get it for you." Felix said. "Is it in the bathroom?"

You nodded and thanked him as he made his way into the house. After you took your dress off, your attention was grabbed by a sloshing sound of water inside the pool. Your brows furrowed, there was no wind. You gulped, coming closer to the edge of the pool, staring at your distorted reflection as the water kept sloshing.

It was just a milisecond, you couldn't react or realize what was happening, it was as if something invisible had pulled you into the water. With a loud splash your body was submerged under the surface as you started flailing your arms and legs, bubbles coming up where you were desperately trying to breathe. You managed to pull your head above water for a second, panicking as you tried to grab onto the edge of the pool, turning around just in time to see Felix running towards the pool with a terrified expression on his face. You couldn't keep yourself above water but just before you were completely submerged again, a pair of arms wrapped around you, pulling you up to the surface.

You gasped, trying to catch your breath as you clutched onto Felix and he pulled you close, pressing your body into his.

"You're okay, love. I got you. I got you." he kept repeating as he caressed you, holding you tightly as he led you to the shallow part of the pool.

Tears spilled out of your eyes as you sobbed, wrapping your arms around Felix's body, your face buried in his neck.

"It's okay. I'm here. Shh." he tried to soothe you as your body shook against him.

Neither of you noticed the shadow moving away from the window inside your kitchen.

"Let's get you out." Felix led you towards one of the chairs and you sat down as he wrapped a towel around you. He caressed your hair shortly as he grabbed another chair, pulling it closer so it was facing you. He sat down and grabbed your face gently.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I- I don't know." your lips trembled.

"I was just standing there and next thing I know, I'm underwater."

"Maybe you slipped?" Felix wondered, his brows furrowed.

"No, it was like something pulled me in." you swallowed and Felix looked back at the calm water.

"Well, whatever it was I am not leaving you alone by the pool anymore. I won't let this happen to you again." he promised, pulling you into a hug, your cheek pressed against his chest. You shivered as you held onto him, but this time it was because you felt his skin against yours. Sure, you held onto him in the pool but you were in such a state of panic that you didn't even feel your body let alone his.

You leaned back a little and looked up at Felix. His eyes travelled down to your lips and he licked at his. Your stomach swarmed with butterflies as your face neared his. Felix held you tighter as your hot breaths mingled, before he pressed his plump lips on yours. You melted instantly as you started moving together, kissing gently and savoring every second of your lips touching like that.

It felt like it was meant to be, like you were made to kiss his lips and he was made to be yours. Felix licked at your bottom lip and you parted them, letting his tongue touch and play with yours. Pressing your body against his even more, you almost forgot about Cupid Corp., the cameras, the pool. But when he bit on your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth, his hands squeezing your waist, you had a moment of clarity and pulled away with a gasp.

"We can't get carried away." you panted and Felix nodded, swallowing as his dark eyes lingered on your lips. His cheeks were red, his hair messy and his lips looked even more pink after kissing you.

"Sorry. I couldn't help myself, love. I'm really attracted to you." Felix said, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Me too. I like you a lot, Lixie." you smiled and he chuckled sweetly, pressing a few kisses on your lips and cheeks.

"I like you a lot too. I'm so glad I signed up for this program." he said, pulling you into another hug.

"I'm glad to be here too." you tangled your hands in his hair, caressing him and he sighed happily.

"Do you still wanna stay by the pool or you wanna do something else?" he asked and you looked at the water.

"I'll sit here and you go swim." you smiled.

"Are you sure?"

"100%." you nodded and with that, he pecked your lips again and practically skipped towards the pool. You giggled to yourself, knowing he really wanted to swim so you were content with sitting by the pool and just watching his beautiful form in the water.

Goosebumps rose on your neck and you turned to look at the house, feeling like there was some kind of presence there. You tried shrugging it off as you turned back to Felix, watching him having fun and waving at you cutely.

When he got out of the water, you couldn't help the admiration in your eyes as they raked all over his naked wet body, the droplets of water sliding from his chest to his abs and disappearing under the waistband of his swim trunks. Your throat was very much dry in that moment, but your panties were not. Felix smirked at you as he walked slowly, probably trying to seduce you even though you already folded.

He leaned over you, his hands on the armrests of the chair, the water from his body dripping onto yours.

"Enjoyed the view?" he asked as you looked up at him.

"Very much so." you smirked back and he leaned in to kiss you.

"I'm glad you did." he kissed you again. "Let's get inside, it's getting dark." Felix added and the two of you made your way into your house.

As soon as you walked in, a loud beeping noise scared the both of you. You covered your ears as Felix looked around.

"What is that?!" you asked.

"I don't know." Felix yelled over the piercing noise. He followed it with you trailing behind him and holding onto his back.

"Oh. Look!" he exclaimed, grabbing the round device you had gotten in the mail.

As soon as he clicked the button, the loud sound stopped, the screen lighting up.

90%. Congratulations, Felix and Y/n!

"D-did we get a point because of me drowning in the pool?" you shivered.

"I think we got a point 'cause I saved you." Felix bit on his lip, his expression turning into one of worry. You looked up at the camera in the kitchen, your eyes wide. Just what kind of sick game were Cupid Corp. playing? And what did they have in store for you?

"You think they really tried to drown me on purpose?" you asked Felix when the two of you got under the covers.

"It seems so." he said as he chewed on his lip.

"I think they could escalate things." you gulped and Felix looked at you, scooting closer to your side.

"What kind of test is that? Who wouldn't jump in to save someone they love? And even someone they don't know. I'd jump in anyways." Felix got upset.

"I know, I don't understand either."

"At least we are closer to 100%." Felix said, reaching out for you. You got closer to him and he smiled sweetly, his arm wrapping around your waist.

"Will you let me hold you like this?" he whispered, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours.

"Yeah, of course." you whispered back, kissing his sweet lips.

"I'll keep you safe, love." he smiled.

"I hope they don't hurt you."

"They can try. I'm stronger than I seem."

"I belive that." you nuzzled into him as you wrapped around each other. It felt so good to be in his embrace, like nothing bad could ever happen to you.

When Felix opened his eyes the next morning and saw you sleeping so soundly in his arms, he almost melted into a puddle. He gently tucked your hair behind your ear, caressing your face as his sleepy eyes observed you.

It didn't take long for you to wake up too, seeing that Felix was already looking at you made you whine and shut your eyes tightly.

"Don't look at me." you said.

"Why?" Felix chuckled as you tried hiding your face with your hands.

"Because I don't look the best when I wake up."

"What are you talking about?" Felix gently moved your hands away. "You're beautiful." he added and leaned in to kiss you but you blocked him quickly with your hand.

"Morning breath."

"Do I look like I care?" he giggled against your palm, grabbing your hand in his and kissing you despite your protests.

"So beautiful." he rasped.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a sweet talker?" you smirked.

"No, but I'll take that as a compliment." Felix giggled. "Mm. Let's stay like this." he pulled you closer, his chin resting on the top of your head.

"I'd love to. But don't we have a brunch with Gina and Ethan?"

"Ugh. We do. Five more minutes." Felix said and you giggled, pressing your lips into his pulse. You heard his breath hitch and felt him tremble as your lips brushed against his skin.

"Don't make it harder for me to resist you, love." he whispered and kissed your head, making your cheeks warm up instantly.

"Sorry." you leaned back and he gave you a lazy smirk as he played with your hair.

"Ethan is sick." Gina whispered to the two of you after you rang the doorbell.

"Sick?" your brows furrowed as you noticed her eyes being shifty, darting left to right like she was on high alert, looking around to spot danger.

"Yes. High fever. Tremors. Headache." she craned her neck to look behind the two of you and you followed her eyesight, not noticing anything out of the ordinary.

"I have to go. I have to go. They're watching, you know? They're watching." she murmured before disappearing into the darkness of her house and closing the door, the clicking sound indicating she had locked it.

"T-that was weird." you swallowed.

"Very weird." Felix backed away, pulling you with him. "You wanna go to brunch still?"

"Yeah." you nodded as the two of you walked away from your neighbor's house.

You kept throwing glances back, noticing the curtain on one of the windows moving as a figure disappeared behind it.

You couldn't stop thinking about the state Gina was in and what the hell was happening inside her house?

Sitting by the koi pond, you couldn't help but think that all of you were just koi fishes and the village was just one small pond that was being observed by a bigger creature.

"You okay?" Felix put his arm around your shoulder, his other hand placed on your knee.

"Just worried about Gina and Ethan. And... us."

"Us?"

"What if the same happens to us. Or worse." you swallowed, your eyes becoming big as you looked at Felix, fear bubbling up inside you.

"It won't."

"How do you know that?" you asked, your eyes filling up with tears.

"I'll keep us safe, I promise." Felix pressed a lingering kiss on your forehead.

Your heart was still hammering in your chest, your stomach churning.

Something was wrong.

"Y/n, do you trust me?" Felix held you as the two of you stood in the shallow part of the pool.

"I do. It's just-"

"You're scared, I know. If it becomes too much, we'll get out immediately. But I'd love it if you at least tried. I'll hold you the entire time, okay? I won't let you out of my sight."

His reassuring words chipped away at your fear, replacing it with warmness and safety. You've never met someone like Felix, someone who was so invested in helping you get over your phobia.

"Okay, we'll start walking first." he pulled you in, holding you against him as you clutched at him.

"Relax." he tried soothing you as his hands caressed you and slowly but surely you started feeling relaxed.

"I'll hold you and swim. You try to move your legs like I told you, okay?" Felix guided you and you struggled a little at the beginning but the more he smiled at you and reassured you, the more confident you felt.

"Just stay close." you said.

"Of course, sweetheart." he smiled and your heart leaped out of your chest as your face warmed up.

Soon, you didn't even realize you were moving on your own, with Felix hovering next to you.

"You did it, y/n!" he laughed, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you into his body.

"All thanks to you, Lixie." you giggled, turning around in his arms so you could look at him.

"Well, you had the will to try so it's on you too." he said, pecking your lips. His kisses were addictive, whenever he'd press his lips on yours, it was hard to stop as the two of you clung onto each other like you've been glued together.

The kisses escalated as your tongues massaged each other, your hands roaming on his freckled back. Your legs wrapped around him and he pulled you in closer, chest against chest, his hands on your butt.

"F-Felix." you stuttered, nails digging into his shoulders when you felt his erection brushing against your core.

"I'm sorry." his arms wrapped around your waist as he buried his face in your neck, lapping at the droplets of water dripping down your skin. "I can't help it. You're so delicious, sweetheart." he nipped at your sensitive neck.

"T-the cameras." you looked around at the five different cameras in the backyard.

"I know. I know." Felix kissed your lips with a huff before he swam you both back to the shallow part.

"You can get out if you want. And give me a second to calm down." he looked at you sheepishly.

"Okay." you giggled, wrapping your body up with a towel.

Felix swam a little more while you made some lemonade, keeping an eye on him from the kitchen window.

He got out just in time as you brought the refreshing drink outside. He wiped his body with the towel quickly, throwing it aside as he pulled you closer, making you squeal, the two of you losing balance. You ended up in his lap as he sat in the chair and you chuckled as he squeezed you tightly, rubbing his cheek against your back.

"Are you sure this is a smart position right now?" you asked and he smirked at you.

Before he could answer, the familiar beeping sound blasted next to the two of you. Your heads snapped towards the device you brought everywhere, hoping the percentage would go up.

"Felix! 92%!" you gasped when you grabbed it.

"92? How did we get two points?" he stared at it.

"I have no idea! But we should celebrate. Just 8 more. And then we can leave together." you smiled as you turned you body towards him.

"I can't wait, my love." Felix smiled, leaving kisses on your arm.

You wondered why you got two points. And if it was really that easy.

That night, Felix was clingier than usual, completely wrapped around you as he spooned you. His lips kept pressing gentle kisses on your neck and shoulder, making goosebumps rise on your skin, heat erupting inside you.

Felix couldn't help it anymore, his own body betrayed him as he got excited again, being so close to you, feeling you pressed against him, he craved nothing more than to be even closer to you.

"L-Lix." you felt him against your backside.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. Don't worry about it, it'll go away." Felix whimpered quietly, and you squeezed his wrist as he pressed into you tighter, unable to contain himself.

"It's okay." you guided his hand down to your panties, feeling desperate for his touch too.

"Y/n." he whispered. "What about the camera?"

"It's dark. And they can't see under the covers. As long as we stay quiet and don't move too much, we should be fine." you whispered back, pushing his hand beneath the waistband of your underwear.

"That's a test within itself." Felix joked and you giggled.

"Please, Felix." you begged as he hesitated.

"Fuck, baby. You don't have to beg for me. You have me always." he bit on your shoulder, his fingers exploring until they pressed into your clit when you spread your legs just a little so he can have more access. Felix started drawing slow figure eights on your sensitive clit, dipping his fingertips into your heat to gather some wetness and smear it around.

Your breath hitched and you gripped onto the cover, bringing it closer to your lips so you could muffle the little sighs coming out. His tongue darted out to lick at you neck as he played with your clit, moving slower but pressing hard. Felix sunk his teeth into your neck, sucking on it and creating a purple bruise marking you as his. You moaned quietly and he shushed you, teasing your little clit and making you clench around nothing.

"Felix." you said quietly.

"Yes, baby?" he whispered between kisses.

"I wanna touch you too." you said, so quiet so that only he could hear it. Felix's cock twitched against the back of your thigh.

"Okay." he said and you turned around, sliding your panties off and pushing them aside. Felix did the same with his underwear and grabbed your leg, putting it over his so he could spread you a little.

His hand was back between your legs, now without any tight obstacles and you had to bite back a moan as your eyes flitted towards the red dot blinking in the corner. You gripped the cover and pulled it up, only leaving some space for air and so you and Felix can kind of see each other.

You sneaked your hand down his chest and abs, fingers playing with his happy trail leading down to his leaky cock. The tip was already wet with pre cum and Felix almost groaned when you touched him, smearing it around as your fingers massaged him.

"B-baby." the tip of his nose touched yours and he leaned in to kiss you as your hand wrapped around his length. He sighed into your mouth and you swallowed it, breathing in his air while he slowly pushed his finger inside your welcoming heat.

You bit on his lower lip when he pushed in deep, your pussy clenching and begging for more. Felix groaned quietly, pushing into your hand while you moved it slowly, giving him gentle pleasure. Both of you moved in sync with each other, keeping the slow and torturous pace that was somehow sweet. You were both lingering on edge, wanting more.

Felix pulled his finger out and before you could protest, he started pushing two fingers in. The entire time you were making out, swallowing each other's moans and breaths.

"God, faster please." Felix whispered and you looked at the direction of the camera again, excitement rushing through you at the thought of getting caught. You sped up, pumping his cock as he fucked your pussy harder.

"Shh, quiet down love." he said when you started moaning silently.

"Sorry." you whispered and leaned in to kiss his neck. Felix immediately threw his head back, a quiet grunt escaping his lips as you attacked his skin with bites and kisses, flicking your wrist.

"I- I- can't." Felix groaned quietly. "Y/n." his fingers stilled inside you as he came, spilling his hot cum on your thigh, hand and the sheets. You helped him ride his high, kissing his lips and whispering quiet praises against them.

"Bring your legs up." he said, pressing your legs together, sliding his arm under your knees and lifting them towards him.

"Wh-what..."

"Shh. Trust me, sweetheart." he said as he leaned over you a little, his fingers sliding on your wet slit. He slowly pushed them back in, the position of your legs lifted up and pressed together like you were in a fetal position added to the pressure between your legs, his fingertips pressing right into your sweet spot.

"F-Felix!" you whimpered and he pressed his free hand against your lips, shushing you as he started fucking his fingers in and out of you.

You feared that this was definitely visible on the camera, the movement of his hand was too frantic under the sheets. Your muffled whines made Felix lean in and leave sweet kisses on your face.

"Shh, it's okay, just relax and let go, sweetheart." he cooed at you, his tongue licking at your ear.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he removed his hand from your face and pressed his lips on yours, his fingers ramming into your sweet spot repeatedly.

"Lix." you whined against his lips as he licked at them.

"Cum for me love." he encouraged and your pussy clenched around his fingers, your heart beating out of your chest as you let go, spilling your release on his fingers, some of it ending up on the mattress below you.

"Shit." he cursed quietly, caressing your wet pussy.

You clutched onto him, kissing him again like you needed it to breathe.

"You okay?" he asked, his hand searching around for his boxers.

"Y-yeah." you answered. "You?"

"More than okay." he smiled as he grabbed the boxers and cleaned both of you up as much as he could. "Um. We can't really change the sheets now, it would look suspicious." he added, throwing both of your underwear sneakily on the floor next to his side, where the camera wouldn't see.

"We can sleep on your side?"

Felix smiled and pulled you over, making you giggle quietly as the two of you settled against each other. He buried his face in your neck, his hand gently caressing your figure as you played with his hair, running your fingers through his soft locks.

The man in the chair smirked. Bingo.

When your eyes fluttered open the next morning, you were greeted with the cutest sight. Felix was still sleeping, his face smushed against the pillow as he drooled a little. Overwhelmed with your growing feelings for him, you leaned in and bit at his cheek.

Felix groaned quietly and you giggled, kissing where you had bitten him before you went lower, biting his neck and then his shoulder.

"Y/n." his deep voice made you shiver and you giggled against his soft skin again before sinking your teeth into his arm. His eyes fluttered open as he smacked his lips and looked at you.

"Interesting way to wake me up, not gonna lie." he smirked a little before grabbing you and making you squeal as he suddenly flipped the two of you, him being on top.

"Felix!" you chuckled when his fingers ghosted on your sides, tickling you slightly.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he smirked, burying his face in your neck and teasing you with little licks and kisses.

"D-don't. It's daytime, the camera-"

"I'm just gonna bite you a little. Return the favor." he blew on your neck before biting into your skin and sucking. You had to bite on your lip to stop yourself from moaning. Isn't this prohibited too?

"F-Felix, you have to stop." you whined.

"You're lucky the cameras are here. Otherwise, nothing would be able to save you from me." he wiggled his eyebrows and you chuckled, playfully pushing him away.

The morning started beautifully and you completely forgot about the rules whenever Felix smiled at you. You were both walking on cloud 9 and you couldn't wait to get out of this place so you can go anywhere with him by your side.

"Do you think they saw us last night?" Felix asked while the two of you munched on your food.

"I hope not." you said, your cheeks becoming red as you looked away from him.

"Getting shy on me, sweetheart?" Felix smirked, fingers brushing against your cheek.

"A little." you confessed, biting on your lip as your heart sped up.

"Don't be." he smiled wide as he leaned in, pecking your face with kisses. You started chuckling before you grabbed his face and kissed his lips.

"There. Better?" you asked and he nodded.

"Much better." Felix said and stood up to put his plate away. You took another sip of your coffee before a loud crash made you jump.

You turned around instantly to see the plate broken into pieces and Felix grabbing at his stomach.

"F-Felix?" you stood up abruptly, your chair flying on the floor.

Felix struggled to open his mouth and speak, he struggled to breathe as he clutched at both his stomach and chest.

"Oh my god! Felix!" you cried, grabbing at him as his face got red and his eyes watered.

"W-what is happening?!" you panicked, not having any kind of phone or knowing what to do in that moment. You turned to the camera in the corner.

"Help us, you fucking assholes!" you yelled at the camera as Felix shook and heaved in your arms.

A moment passed and his breathing started getting more normal, his face becoming paler in contrast to the redness that appeared before. His eyes were glassy, hands shaking as he slumped against you, falling to his knees. You quickly wrapped your arms around him as he gripped at you, seeking comfort from you. Heat radiated from his body and you touched his forehead, realizing he was burning up with a fever.

"Oh, Felix. Can you hear me?" you held his face in your hands as he looked through you.

His lips opened and closed a few times and he blinked before focusing on your eyes.

"I-it hurts." he rasped, his fingers desperately digging into your arms.

"What hurts, baby?" your body filled up with fear and anger. They did this.

"Everything." Felix sniffled and you helped him get up as he leaned on you.

"Let's get you to the couch." you led him to the living room before making him sit down. He looked horrible, a 180 from just a few moments ago when everything was normal. He was sweating profusely, his skin pale, his breathing heavy.

The doorbell suddenly rang, making you jolt.

"I'll be right back." you said, covering Felix up with a blanket as he was shivering even though he was burning up.

You had no idea who to expect at the door, maybe a paramedic, maybe a savior, maybe an explanation.

But you didn't expect Gina.

"G-Gina?" you eyes widened.

"Here." she shoved a box in your arms.

"W-what is this?" you asked.

"Medicine. They said... I had to deliver it to you. He'll be okay like Ethan. Just be careful. Be careful. They watch, you know? They know everything. They know." she looked a little panicked before she turned around, murmuring to herself and repeating how they watch and they know.

You opened up the box and sure enough there were different vitamins, medicine and bags of tea inside it.

You turned to look at the camera with a scowl on your face before you rushed off to Felix.

"Y/n." Felix whimpered, his bottom lip trembling as he looked up at you with teary eyes.

"It's okay, baby. You'll be okay." you tried to calm him down even though you were panicking too. You quickly fluffed up the pillows and helped him lie down.

"Are you comfy?" you asked.

"C-cold." he shivered, clutching onto the blanket.

"I'll bring another blanket for you." you said.

"Don't leave me!" Felix looked panicked as he gripped at your wrist.

"I won't, I'll be right back, I promise." you leaned down to kiss his burning forehead. He made a little noise but still let you go, albeit reluctantly. After finding another blanket, you tucked him in, taking it upon you to make him some tea, give him medicine and try to get his fever down however you could. You say next to his legs and placed a wet cloth on his forehead making him whine as he threw his arm around your thighs.

It was weird. The way he suddenly developed a high fever was unnatural. He wasn't sneezing or coughing, just shaking and sweating. You racked your brain, spinning different scenarios in your head and ways of how they could make him sick.

Then it clicked. The food.

But, how did you not get sick, just Felix? You couldn't understand how it was possible for these faceless and nameless individuals to play god with your health and safety. And what the hell did that have to do with you being a good match?

You wondered if the two of you could leave before you get to 100. You've never heard of such cases but surely there was a way? Maybe you could run away? Who could stop you, right? You have free will and you can leave whenever you want, you're not a prisoner.

"Y/n." Felix said weakly, his eyes fluttering open.

"Lixie. How do you feel? Any better?" you asked and he nodded.

"A bit." he said.

"I'll make you some soup." you said, knowing you have no other choice than to trust that not all your groceries were laced with some kind of virus.

"Okay." he said and you caressed his face shortly before standing up.

"Call me if you need anything. I won't be long." you said and he nodded again.

As the soup boiled, so did your anger. First they try to drown you then they make Felix sick? What's next on the menu? You looked up at the camera for the nth time.

"Hurt him again and I'll find you." you said quietly but the man behind the screen heard you, typing away on his laptop. He felt a bit bad for you but there was nothing he could do, he was just tasked to watch and report the progress.

"Can you sit up?" you asked Felix after you brought the warm soup to the living room.

"Ugh. Help me." Felix whimpered and you wrapped your arms around him as he held onto you, pulling him into a sitting position.

"I feel weakness in my arms and legs." he muttered.

"You'll be back on your feet in no time." you tried to soothe him as you sat next to him. "If they don't lace more of our food with a virus."

"How are you so sure?" Felix gulped.

"Because I'm taking care of you. And if they try something again I will burn this fucking village down." you made sure the camera picked up what you said and Felix let out a pained chuckle, grabbing at his side.

"Feeling protective over me?" he asked and your cheeks reddened instantly.

"I- I mean... Yes." you nodded and he smiled.

"If I wasn't in so much pain, I'd be really turned on right now." he said and you giggled, rolling your eyes playfully.

"Shut up and eat your soup."

"Feed me?" he pouted.

"Sure." you chuckled, shaking your head a little as he acted cute. Well cuter than usually.

"Will you cuddle me?" he asked after you managed to feed him the soup without making too much of a mess and you nodded, scooting closer to him and covering yourself up with the blanket too.

"Come here." you whispered and Felix leaned in, pressing his forehead into your neck. He was still warm but less than before and you hoped that the worst had passed.

"I don't think it was the food." he whispered suddenly, making goosebumps rise on your skin. The tv was loud enough to not let the camera hear what you were whispering about and after glancing at it you glanced down at Felix's sleepy face pressed against your chest.

"What do you mean?" you whispered into his hair.

"Look at my arm. Very carefully." he whispered back and you pretended to caress him until you uncovered his sleeve, acting nonchalant for the camera. Your brows furrowed as you stared.

"Is that a needle mark?" you asked.

"I think so." he looked up at you and you covered him up and held him tighter against you.

"You think they snuck in while we were sleeping and put some kind of virus into your body?" you asked and he nodded against you.

"That's sick. That's really sick. I- I think we should leave."

"We can't, not until we get to a 100." Felix said, rubbing his cheek against you and squeezing you tighter.

"B-but what if they do something worse?"

"It'll be okay." he muttered as he drifted off.

You sighed, running your hand through his hair soothingly as you stared at the tv absentmindedly, a random movie from the dvd collection playing on it.

You looked at him occasionally, admiring his cute sleeping face. Did you really have to wait until 100 to start your life with Felix?

Over the course of the next two days, you had been by Felix's side the entire time. The medicine worked perfectly and pretty soon Felix was back to his old self, healthy and full of energy.

"Y/n. Love." he held you tightly. "Thank you for taking care of me." he stared at you with sparkly eyes before he kissed you like his life depended on it, stealing your breath away.

"Of course." you smiled as you parted.

The loud sound of the device startled you both. Felix neared it, picking it up and looking at the screen.

"95." he scoffed.

"For what? Almost killing you." you said. "This is some sick game to you, isn't it?" you turned to the camera then, furious.

"Sweetheart, don't. We're almost done." Felix pulled you into him. "I have a plan." he whispered into your hair and you nodded.

You were going to escape the village.

That night, you got ready for bed as usual, your hands reaching to open the covers so you could get in. Before you could even touch the blanket, you were grabbed as Felix wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up, almost making you scream.

"Come with me." he pulled you into his bathroom.

"Felix we can't-"

"We're leaving anyways." he said, closing the door before pinning you against it. His hands held your wrists gently but firmly as he pressed his body against yours, nudging your legs apart with his knee.

"Felix." you let out a little gasp when his thigh pressed against your warmth.

He couldn't wait anymore, one hand still pinning your wrists and the other gently holding your chin as he crashed his lips into yours. Both of you whimpered quietly into each other's mouth as your tongues collided. Your mind became fuzzy instantly and Felix was becoming impatient, his hand wrapping around your neck and squeezing ever so slightly as his other hand slid down towards your chest.

"It's hard to keep my cool around you. I just want you so much." Felix talked lowly, both of his hands grabbing your breasts and massaging them. You whimpered, grinding against his thigh on instict.

"I want you too, Lixie. I can't wait anymore."

"Yeah? You want me to take you right here, against the door?" he smirked and you gasped as he leaned back with a smirk, pushing your panties aside and touching your clit.

"Y-yes." you whispered and he chuckled, hands on your waist as he swiftly turned you around to face the door. Your palms slapped against it and you dug your nails in as he slid fingers over your wet pussy.

"I think she's ready to take me." he leaned over you, lips brushing your ear as he pulled his boxers down. You swallowed when you felt the tip of his cock pressing against you. Warmness washed over you and you clenched in anticipation.

"Tell me if it's okay. Or do you want me to prep you?" he asked, his hand sliding down your back.

"J-just fuck me, Felix." you begged and he chuckled darkly.

"My baby has a dirty mouth, hm?" he slid his tip between your folds, back and forth, slowly, teasing you and torturing you.

"Please." you whimpered again and his own desperation got the best of him, he couldn't tease you and himself anymore so he slowly pushed in.

You moaned while he filled you up, your eyes fluttering shut as your knees buckled.

"Fuck. So tight." he groaned, bottoming out.

"L-Lix." you whimpered and he gripped your hips, moving slowly at first, letting you adjust.

You pushed back into him, meeting his thrusts as you let out moans of pleasure, your voice getting more high pitched every time his tip pressed into your sweet spot.

"You take me so well, baby. You really were made just for me." Felix moaned, fucking harder into you, his hips smacking against you.

You were a mess, not even able to answer as he got you drunk on his cock instantly.

"Fuck." Felix groaned as he looked at your ass, his hand coming down on your flesh, spanking you and making you whine out loud.

"You like that, sweetheart?" he smirked behind you and spanked you again.

"Y-yes!" you moaned and he sped up, his hips unforgiving as he shook your body, his hands gropping and slapping. He felt you clenching around him, his arms wrapping around you, hands on your breasts as he pulled on your nipples and played with them.

"Are you gonna cum for me, baby? Make a mess on my cock?" Felix fucked into you harder.

"Yes, ah!" you whimpered, your legs shaking as you spasmed and came all over his length.

"Good girl. You make me so proud." he groaned, chasing his high.

"Y-you have to pull out, I didn't take the pill... Since I got here." you moaned, feeling overstimulated.

"S-shit!" Felix whimpered, pulling out of your pussy and giving himself a few tugs, exploding behind you, his cum landing on your ass and back.

"So pretty." he gripped at your ass. "Mine."

"Yours." you whined back when he spanked you again.

He let out a low chuckle and wrapped his arms around you, turning you so you were facing him.

"That was absolutely not how I imagined our first time." Felix said, pecking your lips.

"How did you imagine it?" you held onto him with a smile on your face.

"Dinner, flowers, you know the whole thing. You put on some pretty lingerie for me and then we make love the entire night." he pressed his forehead against yours.

"Aren't you romantic?" you giggled, kissing him gently.

"I am. A lot." he grinned, pulling you into a hug.

"We can do all that when we get out of here. Which is what we should be doing right now."

"Yeah. You got your bag ready?" he asked and you nodded.

"Let's clean up then."

The streets were dark and empty, the only light that was coming from the lamp posts was dim and barely illuminated your path. It must've been around 3am. Dead silence filled up the space, every house was dark and quiet. No one was awake. The two of you stalked towards the gate, knowing the cameras are watching you.

There was no blind spots, they thought of everything. You didn't give a damn anymore. They can come and stop you themselves instead of playing these sick games.

Of course, the gate was locked.

"Felix?" you swallowed and his head snapped towards you. "That wasn't there when we got here, right?" you pointed and he gasped.

Electric fence.

Everywhere you turned to look, there it was.

"What the hell?" Felix frowned. "Are they crazy?"

"Obviously they are." you stated. "What should we do now?"

"How about the forest? Could be connected to like a main road? There's no way they put this electric fence all around." Felix looked frustrated.

"We could try." you nodded, your hand reaching out for his. With fingers entwined you hurried the other way.

Suddenly, a loud alarm pierced through the calm night air, making you both scream out as you grabbed at your ears, the sound pounding inside your head, making you want to pull your hair out.

Your vision became blurry and you tried to stay close to Felix as the sound became even louder and in the corner of your eye, you saw shadows moving.

Everything went black.

You woke up in your room, drenched in sweat. It was still dark out and you looked around, noticing Felix was still sleeping and the device on his night stand was blinking.

"Lix." you shook him gently.

"Hm."

"Lix." you repeated, leaning over him to look at the little screen.

"98?" you frowned. "Why?"

"What?" Felix sat up slowly. "What is it?"

"We're up to 98. Because we tried to escape?"

"I- I don't know. Ugh, I feel weird." Felix said and as soon as those words left his lips, you felt lightheaded yourself.

"I can't feel my legs." he gasped.

"What's happening to us? What did they do?" your eyes watered as you felt the same paralyzing feeling.

"T-they drugged us." Felix tried to grab at you but his arms weren't listening to him no matter how much he willed them to move.

"Felix." you whimpered, feeling some kind of tiredness washing over you. "I love you."

"I love you." he whispered back before everything went black again, neither of you noticing the device was now blinking with 99.

The light was barely coming in through the branches, the sun not being completely up yet. The air was damp and smelled of the earth, rain and trees. You took in a deep breath, wiggling your fingers against the ground, feeling the texture of moss under your fingertips.

You felt as if you were floating even though you were very clearly touching the ground. Your eyes slowly fluttered open and you gasped. Everything seemed distorted, like you couldn't focus your eyes on what's in front of you. Weird sounds filled up your ears, ones you couldn't recognize or understand. One moment they seemed like distant shouts and the other it was as if someone was talking gibberish right into your ear.

You lifted your shaky hands towards your face as you felt hot tears sliding down your cheek and into your hair splayed on the earth. Your hands. You were looking at them but it was as if they were separated from your body, like you weren't in control of them. You stared for however long, not being able to conceptualize if it was 10 seconds or an hour.

When you finally sat up, your head started spinning and you saw shadows moving in the corner of your eye, hiding behind the trees and melting into the ground. You blinked a couple of times but your sight remained blurry even when you got up. Your legs buckled for a second and you almost fell, grabbing at a tree next to you.

Find him. Find him.

Something whispered and you felt a buzzing sensation spreading all over your body. You grabbed at your ears as the whispers kept getting louder until-

FIND HIM!

A yell, a dark screeching voice echoed inside your brain.

Felix. You have to find him.

You had no idea how you even ended up in the forest and what was wrong with you while you were walking, your limbs felt like they were disconnected, your head pounded with a headache and your forehead was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

You heard a smacking sound on your right, like something hit the wet ground and you turned to look but couldn't see anything there.

"Felix?!" your voice came out weak, your throat burning. "Felix!" you whimpered, more tears spilling out your eyes.

The whispers and the smacking sounds became louder, closer, more of them surrounding you. You started freaking out, panic building up within you. The sound of cracking caught your attention and you screamed out when the trees started growing in towards you, their branches becoming longer and reaching out to grab you. You kept screaming as you squatted down, covering your head up and crying.

"Please, stop!" you cried. It was silent. You lifted your head up slowly and the trees were exactly how they were before. No menacing branches hovering over you, reaching to take you.

You quickly stood up, your sight a little less blurry as adrenaline from the fear kicked in. Your legs reacted faster than you could anticipate as you started running, small twigs snapping under the weight of your feet.

The smacking sounds were back and now you could see what they were. All around you, koi fishes wiggled and smacked against the floor, trying to breathe in the dry air. You gasped, wondering how the hell was this happening.

You must be tripping.

The rational part of your mind reminded you that whoever was behind Cupid Corp. didn't hesitate to use all sorts of methods to execute their 'tests'.

They probably drugged you and everything you were seeing right now was a hallucination.

With that realization in mind, you carried on through the forest as it got thicker, ignoring all the voices around you and the fishes seemingly falling from the sky.

Things lurked in the bushes and behind trees, shivers running up your spine as it got darker. You thought you heard Felix calling for you among all those distorted voices.

"Felix?!"

"Y/n!" you heard a distant sound.

"Felix? Where are you?" you hurried up, almost slipping on the moss.

"I'm here!" the voice was clearer now, to your left and you ran and ran until you were stopped in your tracks. A huge koi wish wriggled on the ground where Felix should've been.

"Felix?" you were perplexed as you stared at the sight before you.

"Get me out of here."

Is he... inside the fish?

You noticed a knife on the floor next to it. You blinked and the next thing you knew you were standing in front of the fish with the knife in your hand. You stabbed into the flesh, blood oozing out as you started cutting up the fish like a maniac, guts spilling from the inside until Felix emerged, covered up in all of the fish goo, the stench of it making you nauseous.

"What the fuck?" you swallowed and then everything disappeared, pulling you into the darkness again.

The loud piercing sound of the device you prayed to every single day shook your entire body. You jolted up, realizing you were in bed and Felix was waking up next to you.

No fishes, no guts, no forest, no whispers.

100%! Congratulations and have a safe departure from our Village of Love!

"Village of love? More like village of horror." you said as Felix leaned in to look at the screen. A loud sound scared you again, a masked voice following after it.

"Thank you for participating in our program. You've proved your love to each other, built up devotion and trust in just a month. You are now the perfect match. We apologize for any discomfort you felt here and offer you The Juice of Oblivion so you may forget about the... less fun experiences you had here. You can choose not to drink the juice, but remember after you leave through the gate, you're obligated by law to not talk about our tests here. Enjoy the rest of your life together!"

You glanced at the night stand, seeing the suspicious blue liquid inside a bottle.

Felix suddenly started laughing next to you and you looked at him. Laughter bubbled up from your throat too and the two of you cackled for a good minute, until you were heaving for breath and wiping tears away.

"This was fucking insane." he said.

"Were you really stuck inside a fish?" you asked and Felix looked at you like you were insane.

"Was I what?"

"I had to gut a koi fish to get you out, in the forest." you explained and he shook his head.

"You were tripping. We both were, I figured that the moment I stepped foot on the pool. Like on the water. And you were under it, trying to get out but it was as if there was some kind of barrier keeping me from you. I had to find a spot to pull you out. The amount of anguish it gave me..." Felix licked at his dry lips and you reached out to grab his hand.

"Do you wanna drink the juice?" you asked.

"I just wanna get the hell out of here." he said and you agreed.

You were pretty sure this was illegal, all of the stuff happening here; them not disclosing the use of psychedelic stimulants or whatever the drugs were in the contract was also illegal.

But at the same time, if you never participated, maybe you would've never met Felix.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked as you approached the gate with a few other couples, including Gina and Ethan.

"How I'm glad I met you. But I'm gonna need therapy." you said and Felix laughed.

"We'll go together. This is just the first day of the rest of our life." he smiled, kissing your forehead and squeezing your hand.

The man in the chair watched all the couples leave. His lips turned upwards into a smirk as he saw new cars approaching the village.

He wondered what kind of sick tests they had in store for the new inhabitants of the Village of Love?

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @eastjonowhere @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts @minniesverse @skzdreamer13 @0325ale @j-ji-jia @shannthewriter

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livingdxadwriter · 4 months ago

Text

Serenity

Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!doctor!reader

Summary: Robby has had a really shitty day, maybe he just needs his girlfriend to comfort him

Follows the pacing of the show so minor spoilers if you’re still not caught up

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, oral (fem receiving), he talks her through it (yes he does and yall can’t tell me otherwise), age gap (reader is 35 and Robby is 50) (ik he’s probably Noah’s age but just bare with me here), established relationship, just vanilla sex really

WC: 6.3k no I’m not sorry

A/N: bahahah nobody look at meeeee. I think I outdid myself with this, I’m never beating the daddy issues allegations. This man just makes me so feral I couldn’t help myself. I’m hoping some of yall have been down bad too otherwise just ignore me (if this flops I’ll cry). Also tagging my bestie bc she has experienced my madness in real time🩷 @wittyjasontodd

You knew today would be an absolutely abhorrent day. You could feel it, the second that dumb clock hit six a.m, you knew. You knew it when you texted him if he wanted to eat dinner at your place after your shift, and he told you that he didn’t know when exactly he would get off his. He was working today and that made you sick to your stomach, a deep sense of anxiety and worry settling in. And you couldn’t shake that feeling all fucking day.

You didn’t want to worry about him, coddle him and suffocate him like he was a teenager, he surpassed you by quite a few years for you to be doing that. Still, you couldn’t not worry about him down there. His day was normally absolutely draining as it was, but having to deal with that today out of all days, it concerned you just how well he could compartmentalize his own issues and the issues of dozens and dozens of other people.

You were tempted to come downstairs yourself and check in on him under the excuse of bringing him coffee and something to eat. But then that would be weird. Then people would know. Well, you had a suspicion people did know by now, it was a bit hard to hide a relationship after two years. Though it was a bit easier considering you were all the way up in the pediatrics ICU and not in the Pitt. Still, you definitely noticed the knowing glances of Perla and Princess whenever you came down for a consultation or if they saw you sneak into the doctor’s lounge.

Dana knew, though you never told her. You didn’t think Robby told her either. You thought it took her maybe a month to figure it out. You prided yourself on how discrete you were about it, and still are. You walk together whenever your shifts align, hands locked and headphones in as you both enjoyed the short time you had in each other's calming presence before you didn’t see each other for twelve-plus hours. And then you went your separate ways, a quick kiss and a hushed ‘love you’ before going through completely different entrances to be extra cautious. You have been doing this since day-one. How Dana figured it out was beyond your extensive knowledge.

You both would like to think other than Dana’s superhuman ability to read people, you had managed to keep things private. It was better that way, doctors were such odd creatures, you almost positively knew that ‘favoritism’ would end up circulating around sooner or later, since, once upon a time where you were a bright-eyed and still a had will to live first-year resident, Robby was your attending. Albeit he was married at the time and you were engaged, you knew someone would find a way to turn it into something it wasn’t.

Today, however, you weren’t quite such how reserved you could be when you knew he was struggling.

You sat on your desk, a long exhale of exhaustion leaving your lips as you ran your hands over your face, enjoying the few minutes of peace and quiet you had managed to find. And then you heard a ping. You sat up, eyes shooting open as you reached for your phone with annoyance. You thought it was the hospital, but when you unlocked your phone you saw it was a message from Dana.

Well, fuck.

Dana: can you check on Robby? The overdose kid is hitting him pretty hard

A long sigh left your lips as you read over the message, heaviness settling in your chest. You had been keeping up with it since earlier this morning, you had hoped maybe the kid would respond to treatment. You guessed things hadn’t been so easy down there.

Me: you don’t think the kid is gonna make it?

Dana: Robby doesn’t think so. Come check on him please. He was gone for a while earlier

Another heavy sigh left your lips. Today was not the day for this.

Me: he doesn’t like it when I make him talk about his feelings

You weren’t entirely exaggerating. Robby wasn’t emotionally unavailable, the opposite, if anything, he was painfully aware of his feelings. He just didn’t like talking about them, especially when they were ER related. He would send you into a psych ward if he told you everything he experienced on a daily basis, he told you. And you respected it, your year in the Pitt definitely wasn’t the highlight of your life, and you admired him for choosing to stay there for so long.

Dana: you’re not. You’re just being a supportive girlfriend. Come, now.

You didn’t have to be in front of her to know she was being serious. You figured if you didn’t come down at some point she would physically come get you herself if that’s what it took. So best not to test the universe today. You had some time before your next appointment anyway. And Dana was right, you wanted him to know you were there, even if he didn’t always want it.

It came as a shock to no one that you ultimately found your way downstairs. It was always loud on your floor, but nowhere near as bad as the pitt. You tried your best to not draw attention to yourself, though with everything going on down here and all the people that came and went, you figured you would blend in for the most part. You hoped to find Dana at her desk, preferably alone, as to avoid awkward small talk and questionable looks since nobody actually called you down here for any medical reasons. You internally thanked the universe when you spotted Dana on her computer.

“Hey.” You spoke quietly, hands shoved into your pockets a bit sheepishly as you glanced around before looking back at her. She gave you a warm smile of gratitude and nodded at you.

“Don’t make that face, it’s not that bad down here.” She teased, calling out your hypervigilant mannerisms and the uncomfortable look on your face. You didn’t mind being here, but only when you had a reason to be, you definitely didn’t want to have to explain you came down here to check in on your boyfriend.

“I know.. But you know..” you gave her a look. But you didn’t have to say anything, she knew what you meant, she just liked teasing you about it.

“South 16 is empty. I’ll tell him I need him for something. Just be quick, we might need the room.” She told you in a hush, resuming her typing away at her computer. You quietly nodded, briefly reaching to lightly squeeze her shoulder as a silent thank you.

You waited a bit anxiously, shooting a glance at your watch. Shit, you had to be back upstairs in ten minutes to check up on a patient. But you didn't want to leave without at least making sure he was okay. Even if he was just going to brush you off and tell you that everything was fine, you at least wanted to see him. You waited another minute, and with a sigh you turned to pull the curtains out, but someone beat you to it. You jumped back a bit, eyes wide for a second before you realized.

He wasn't quite looking at you, or maybe he just wasn't paying that much attention, he thought he was in the wrong room at first.

“Sorry—oh.” Robby glanced behind him for a second, bit confused as he closed the curtain behind him. You smiled lightly as he looked at you both with confusion and relief to see you. Now matter how hectic or chaotic his day had been, how many times he had to chase down his residents, or many patients were a pain in his ass, seeing you always brought him a sense of calmness. He was ashamed to admit he was completely infatuated with you. His racing mind ultimately landed back on you, and he realized; he didn't remember calling you down. Maybe one of the residents did? But they didn't check with him first. “Hey, what uh.. What are you doing down here?”

“Just wanted to check in, I heard you’ve had a rough day.” You said quietly, lightly nibbling on your bottom lip as you stepped closer to him. He looked down at you, a heavy sigh leaving his lips and his jaw clicked lightly as he reminded himself to curse Dana out later. He didn’t want you to worry. He said nothing, so you continued, “The college kid, you don’t think he's gonna make it?”

He tried to hold back another sigh, but he couldn't help it, he squeezed his eyes shut and scratched the back of his head with exasperation. He considered not going into details, giving you the same bullshit answer he gave the parents. He never wanted to burden you with his issues, with the baggage that came with the ER. He always wanted to keep out of the relationship, though he found that to be quite the challenge. When he opened his eyes again and found your pretty eyes looking back at him, with that warmth and kindness that made him want you in the first place. Maybe he should open up, to you at least.

“Uh, no. He’s braindead so there’s nothing we can do.” The words left him like a ton of bricks, heavy and sharp. Your face immediately fell and your lips parted open lightly. You tilted your head at him, but said nothing. He wasn’t quite looking at you as he continued, “I keep ordering all these tests for the parents, but I know. And I don’t know if giving them false hope will make things worse for them.”

You nodded softly and rested your hands on his chest, you felt him exhale unevenly. You gave him a warm smile as you lightly rubbed his chest.

“Maybe they just need more time to make peace with it. Maybe they just need to know you did everything you could to help their son.” You knew how he felt, there had been so many times where nothing you did was enough to help someone’s child, and you had to tell them that. But you knew he did his best, he always did. Though you weren't sure if he knew that.

“Yeah.. yeah, maybe.” You felt him slightly tense under your touch and he avoided your eyes. He slightly angled his head to look behind him, like he was getting ready to sneak his way away from you and get lost in the chaos of the ER. you would let him, in a minute.

“Michael.” Your voice was a warning, quiet, stern. He snapped his head in your direction and looked at you with concern and confusion. You almost mever called him that. Only sometimes, when you were annoyed with him. With that scolding tone of yours. He didn't like it much.

“I don't like that. Why’d you do that?” He tilted his head at you, and you had to hold back a smile at the way he looked at you.

“‘Cause, you’re being difficult. There’s bad days and there’s worse days. Today is a shitty day, and that’s fine. You're doing your best, don’t be so harsh on yourself.” You sighed, running your fingers through his beard and he almost instantly leaned into your touch.

“How come you didn't go into psychiatry?” He commented and you snorted, leaning your forehead into his chest. You felt a slight chuckle rumble in his chest, and with that your deed was done for now.

“Well, I did a minor in psychology in undergrad, did I ever tell you that?” You leaned back, a small smile on your lips, and he had the little wrinkles around his eyes that you found to be so cute.

“Once or twice.”

You shrugged playfully, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, but he turned his head and caught your lips instead. You were definitely okay with that. A groan of annoyance rumbled in your chest when you felt your phone buzz, alerting you that it was time for your next appointment. You pulled back, much to your dismay and took a glance at your phone, you were definitely going to be late.

“I mean it Robby, I’ll know.” You shot him a playful warning look and he nodded, a tiny grin pulling at the corner of his lips. You leaned up, actually leaving a kiss to his cheek this time. “Love you.”

“Love you too hun.” He called after you as you disappeared behind the curtain. A long sigh left his lips as he ran a hand over his face. If he wasn't the attending he would go after you and would purposely get locked inside an exam room with you for a little while. But alas. He waited a minute, making sure it didn’t look too suspicious before he came out too, back to the madness he went.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was just the gift that kept on giving. You eventually came down for the walk of honor. You knew you wouldn’t really talk to Robby, but you wanted him to know you were there. You truly hated to see him like this. Hours on end only for the answer to have been what he knew from the beginning. It was hard to look at the brightside. And then you heard Dana got assaulted and you were absolutely freaking out. You hadn’t been able to come down until the end of your shift, when you were on your way to head home. Robby still had another hour left of his so you were just going to your apartment alone, he almost never got off on time, anyway.

You damn near ran off the elevator and a sense of relief washed over you when you saw Dana sitting at her desk. A long sigh left your lips as you approached her and you nearly gasped when you saw the bruising on her face.

“Dana.” You said quietly, your eyes big. She shook her head at you dismissively, but it was hard not to worry. “They told me a patient hit you?”

“Yeah. Don't worry, I don't have any fractures, just a little sore.” She half smiled at you, but the look on your face never changed, you frowned even deeper.

“It's unbelievable. With all the patient satisfaction bullshit Gloria shoves down our throats you’d think they would invest a little more in making sure the staff is protected. Are you sure you’re okay? It bruised a lot.” You leaned down to inspect her closer and she rolled her eyes at you, but you couldn’t help it.

“Yes I’m sure, Robby made me get a CT and made me take a break, I’m fine.” She waved you off and you nodded.

“Oh, speaking of that pain in my ass, where is he? I’ve been texting him since the walk but I haven’t heard from him.” You frowned softly, adjusting your bag over your shoulder. Dana gave you a look, one that you definitely did not like.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t wait on him too much. Just go home, okay? While you still can.” Now that worried you even more. You knew today had been rough but you didn’t think it had been that bad. It took a lot for Robby to lose it, though you were unsure what exactly happened if that was the case.

“Yeah, okay. I’m glad you’re okay. I was very worried.” You offered her a tiny smile, which she returned and you exchanged goodbyes for the night.

Dana’s words lingered in your mind, and you were definitely more concerned for Robby than you were earlier today. Usually he would text you back, even if it was an hour or two later, but it had been hours and nothing. With a sigh, you started to head for the exit, and as you walked you saw Robby walking out of one of the exam rooms. You debated whether to pretend you didn't see him and to just go home. But that really wasn't the type of person you were.

“Robby, hey.” You called out to him as quietly as you could as you walked up to him. He visibly tensed at the sight of you and he looked like a fucking mess. You narrowed your eyes, your lips pursing at him but you continued. “I uh.. I’m going home. I don’t know if.. If you wanted to come over when, well whenever you get out. I’m picking up food on the way so..”

He was silent for a while, too long for your liking and you were starting to feel a little tense as well. He clicked his tongue, scratching the back of his head like you had picked up he did when he was stressed. You probably should have listened to Dana.

“Yeah, uh, I don’t know. I don’t really know what time I’m getting off, and truly I think maybe I should go to my place tonight.” He said with exasperation, his tone harsh and laced with tension. It almost took you aback how he was talking to you.

You blinked at him, mouth slightly agape. It took you a couple seconds to process what he was saying. You counted to five in your head, took a deep breath in and just nodded. “Uhm, okay. Yeah, cool, I just wanted to make sure you were okay before I went home.”

“Yes, yes I’m okay, why does everyone keep fucking asking me that.” He raised his voice before quickly realizing what he did and his lips fell in a flat line. You stared at him in shock, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. It was almost like it dawned on him that you were the last person in this hospital he should be snapping at. And he did just that. He reached to grab your arm and you backed up.

“No, it’s fine. I got it. Sorry. I’m gonna go home now.” You forced a smile, you could tell Robby wanted to say something, he opened his mouth but you just shook your head at him. “It’s fine, you need space and I get that. Text me when you can talk to me like a fucking adult, yeah?”

You didn’t even give him a chance to reply, you were turning around and hurrying to the exit before he could get a word in. Was that the most mature response you could have given him? No, not really, but you didn't particularly enjoy being yelled at by your boyfriend in the middle of the ER. You knew something else must’ve happened to him, but you didn’t really want to find out when he was that upset. You hadn't seen Robby angry often, stressed? Sure, all the time. But he looked pissed and you didn’t like that whatsoever. He was always so calm, so patient and so collected, it was unsettling to see him so easily ticked off. You tried not to think about it too much, he knew where to find you if he wanted to talk, calmly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robby couldn’t stop thinking about you for the rest of the night. He felt horrible for yelling at you, when his problems were not your fault and all you wanted to do was be the loving girlfriend that you were. He always loved how attentive and caring you were, when you asked him about his day and when you would listen so attentively to the little he would tell you. You were the last person on this earth he should’ve snapped at today, and now he had to go home feeling guilty when all he wanted was your comfort. He debated about just going to his place and calling you tomorrow, maybe he would get you some flowers to apologize. But then thought that would be too long. It was so late, he definitely didn’t get off when he was supposed to, but maybe you’d still be awake. You usually waited up for him anyway.

Without much thought, he ended up at your apartment. He had a key to your place, he slept there most nights to be completely honest. He was rehearsing in his head the apology he would give you when the door got stuck.

“What the fuck..” he muttered to himself as he tried to force the door open, thinking maybe it got caught on the rug or something. But no, he looked down to find that the latch was on. You put the latch on. He took a deep breath and clicked his tongue, trying to look into the apartment to see if he could see inside. This was definitely going to be his last straw.

You weren’t asleep, it wasn’t quite midnight yet, but even if it was, you weren’t sure if you could get much sleep tonight. You heard the sound of your front door unlocking along with muffled shuffling. You sat up, confused. You suspiciously came out of your bedroom, only to find Robby’s awkwardly tall frame trying to reach inside to undo the latch. You almost wanted to laugh, you would have, if you hadn’t still been a bit upset from earlier.

“Really?” You called out to him, arms crossed over your chest as you padded along the wooden floors, the floorboards creaking under your bare feet. Robby looked to find you, in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of cozy pants. He always found it endearing how cozy and comfortable you looked outside of the hospital.

“You put the latch on? Really?” He huffed quietly, annoyed that he got stuck outside your apartment, he definitely was not amused by you trying not to laugh. You shrugged.

“You said you weren’t coming over. I put the latch on when you’re not here.” You said like it was obvious, taking your sweet time in walking to the door. It served him right. He would’ve rolled his eyes if he didn’t know you were right.

You stood for a few seconds and made direct eye contact with him as you shut the door in his face, just to make a point, before you unlatched the door and opened it. You took a step back, crossing your arms over your chest again as he quietly stepped into your apartment, closing the door behind him. He dropped his backpack like it had offended him, and he crowded your space. His nose brushed over yours, and you could hear his breath. You were holding yours.

“I’m sorry.” He offered so quietly, so much so that you wouldn’t have heard him if he hadn't been so close. You inhaled sharply, slightly nodding. You threw your arms over his shoulders and he breathed out a sigh of relief. “Yeah? You forgive me?”

You nodded again, as you leaned up to meet his lips. “Yes, now shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled softly, his large hand squeezed your waist as he leaned down to meet your eager mouth. He definitely said nothing after that. God, he had been wanting to do this all fucking day. It probably would have made his day a whole lot less shitty. But he was here now, and he had you all to himself.

You weren't sure when you ended up being carried to your bedroom, or when your back was laid flat on your soft covers. All you could focus on was his lips claiming yours, his lips trailing kisses all over your jaw, down to your neck, and anywhere he could find, really. He wasn't normally this messy, perhaps the stresses of today had finally worn on him.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he muttered against your skin as he half-assed shrugged his hoodie off his shoulders and tossed it somewhere he would be scrambling for in the morning. You hummed along, only half listening. “Let me make it up to you.”

Confused, you sat up on your elbows as he settled between your thighs. You watched him with big eyes and a heavy chest as he silently pulled your pj’s down your thighs. You held your breath as you instinctively closed your legs. He shot you a pointed look as he pried your thighs open, fingers digging into your plush thighs as he settled between them. You gasped softly at the delicious burn his beard left on your thighs. You loved that you could always feel the tingle of where his mouth had been, even the day after.

He took his time with you, he always did. You never understood how he could stay so calm, so patient. You had no patience, and you knew that he knew. Maybe he enjoyed seeing you desperate. His tongue lapped at your pussy with such calculated movements. From your hole to your clit, circling and sucking before diving back into your walls. Squirming, you were chasing his mouth with your hips, body overcome with pleasure as he worked your walls with his tongue. You felt like such a whore for asking like this, but you couldn’t help it.

“That feels so—ugh—feels so good—please.” You didn’t know what you were pleading for. Mercy? Sweet release? You didn’t know. Robby raised an amused eyebrow at you, wet lips curled up the slightest bit as he moved his tongue back to your clit and he slipped two fingers inside your cunt. He licked and sucked to match each delicious drag of his fingers. The sounds leaving him were just as filthy as the things he was doing to you, groaning and grunting.

It was no surprise that he had you shaking and sobbing, overcome with pleasure, eyes blurry with tears of pleasure, your release rapidly approaching. You latched on to his hair, tugging and pulling at the strands as your pathetic sounds filled the room. You chased his mouth, and he let you, always so amused by how quickly you would fall apart.

“That’s it, just breathe through it.” he hushed, his own breath heavy as he replaced his tongue with his thumb and he crooked his fingers just the right way, knowing each and every one of your tells, each twitch of your body, he had memorized all of it.

Your release was hard and sudden, your loud sounds were almost as overwhelming as the feeling of his fingers scissoring you wide open. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of your head. He dug his fingers into your thigh, his tongue slipping into your hole when his fingers left you.

“Shit Robby.” You gasped, your thighs shaking as you weakly reached to grab his face. You ran your fingers along his face, threading through his beard and you silently ushered him up. He complied, in an instant settling between your open legs to find your mouth again. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, it was all so much for your clouded mind.

“You’re okay, just breathe for me.” He said against your lips, brushing your hair away from your face softly. You breathed out a laugh.

“You should yell at me more often,” you snorted, and Robby shot you a pointed look. “So you can make it up to me.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not done, so.” He pressed another kiss to your lips, leaving the lingering taste of yourself on your tongue before he flipped you over on your stomach. You bit your lip softly, pulling your t-shirt over your head and tossed it somewhere. You heard him shuffling behind you for a bit. You turned your head to look back at him, and with a smile he leaned over your back, leaving a kiss to your bare shoulder. “Hi sweetheart.”

“Hmm hi.” you hummed softly as you braced yourself with your arms in front of you. He pressed his lips to the back of your head, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly sank into you.

You gasped, your eyes rolling back into your head he sank into you until his hips rutted against your ass. The side of your face was flat on the mattress when he sneaked his hand into your hair and held you there. His pace was slow at first, slow strokes that allowed you to revel in the feeling of his cock in and out of your walls. But as you both began to grow desperate, pathetic sounds leaving your lips and groans of pleasure leaving him, his pace picked up.

“Thought about this all day baby. With the fucking day I’ve had.” His words left him with a groan, and he gave you a particularly sharp thrust that had you sliding up the mattress. “Just wanted this. You're the only thing that isn’t wrong in my life.”

His raspy words in your ear made you moan, and you blindly reached behind you to touch him, any part of him. He leaned down, his chest flat against your back and his lips found yours, pulling you into a messy kiss.

“Mhm, should’ve called me down for a quickie then.” You teased him and he chuckled, his cheek pressed against your jaw, the new angle making him sit so deep you could feel him in your fucking guts. God, you didn’t fucking care that he was so much older than you, the way he fucked you, so passionately and so gently at the same time, you didnt care for anyone younger.

“I don't care for quickies.” he replied with an edge to his voice, despite the sass of your mouth, he could feel the way you squeezed the life out of him everytime he hit that perfect spot, getting you closer and closer to your release.

“You’re such an old man.” you managed to reply, but your witty remarks quickly left you when he slipped his free hand to find your swollen clit, which made you painfully aware of how close you were. But Robby could tell.

“Uh-huh, and this old man is gonna make you come,” There was a bit of amusement in his voice at the way your body twitched under him and the way your face twisted with pleasure. You were so close. “Yeah, thought so.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” you choked out, followed by a silent sob when he hit that one spot and you saw white. You were gasping for air as your whole body shuddered. Robby shushed you softly, slowly fucking you through your orgasm. He left wet kisses along your jaw as he whispered sweet words in your ear.

“Atta girl, you did so good.” He hummed as he left a kiss to the side of your head as you dropped your face flat on your blankets, your breath heavy as your body twitched in aftershock. You gasped softly when he slipped out of you, leaving you empty. You wanted to whine, but he gently grabbed your arm and flipped you on your back, and he settled between your legs with ease.

“Alright, lemme look at you. Just want to see how pretty you look.” He ran his fingers over your face, brushing your hair away from your forehead. It was always such a intoxicating feeling to have him on top of you, his pretty brown eyes watching your every move, his chain a reminder that you were about to get fucked (again). You fucking loved this feeling. You couldn’t even make a sound when he slid into you again, your eyes simply fluttering shut and your body twitching with pleasure.

“O-oh my god—!” The way you sounded so utterly fucked out, cock-drunk, it made him feel lightheaded as he fucked into you. He felt a little bad, with how exhausted you both always were, you never fucked this long, or so intensely. So he knew you were going to be so sore for your morning shift tomorrow. But fuck, with the way you squeezed your eyes shut, lips parted, he didn’t want to stop until you were both spent with exhaustion because you just felt so fucking tight and so goddamn heavenly.

“Mhmm I know, I know hun. Feels good hm?” He panted above you, his chain dangling above your face like a mockery of your current position with each thrust he gave you. You nodded harshly, a string of uh-uh-uh’s leaving your pathetic mouth as your nails dragged down his back.

“Feels so good baby.” You squeezed your eyes shut, his voice shooting straight to your pulsing walls, making you whimper.

He gritted his teeth as he felt your walls squeeze the life out of him, a grunt leaving his chest as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. You squeezed his hand so tight as he pinned your hand above your head, and he planted his other arm beside your head, attempting to ground himself.

“There you go sweetheart. That’s it.” His raspy voice grounded you as you spasmed around his cock for a second time. Your sounds were so pathetic, the way you sobbed his name was enough to make him completely lose the very little self-control he was holding on to. He fucked you through your orgasm, gave you two, three more sharp thrusts before he fell into his own release, a breathy fuck falling from his lips

Sounds of exhaustion filled the room, drowning out the still on TV you had in the background, your show being completely forgotten the second Robby was at your door. A thin layer of sweat covered his skin as he ran a hand through his hair. Your eyes were screwed shut, your forearm thrown over your face as your racing heart matched your shuddering breath. He sneaked under your arm and left a kiss to the side of your forehead. You giggled a bit and opened your eyes to find his soft brown eyes staring back, there was a smile there, too.

“You want pizza? I bought some earlier from the place you like.” You spoke eventually, your chest now rising and falling in a steady rhythm as you rested your head on Robby’s arm. He turned his head to look at you and smiled in that way that made the corners of his eyes wrinkle a bit.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take some.”

Much to the protest of your legs, you threw yourself on your feet, ignoring the way Robby was chuckling at your struggle. You managed to find a t-shirt, you didn’t know whose it was, probably Robby’s but it was yours now. After making a stop to the bathroom, you were in the kitchen for a bit. Getting fucked made you hungry, so you heated up some pizza for yourself.

“Here’s your delivery, and I do require a tip.” You announced as you came back into your bedroom. Robby looked up from his phone, and he had managed to find his black framed glasses that you loved to tease him about. And a playful smirk formed on your lips. “I definitely want a tip.”

He looked at you confused for a few seconds then he realized and he blew out a laugh, shaking his head with disappointment. “You know, after a certain age one just gets really tired, can’t keep up with people your age. Not that I would know about that.”

You snorted as you flopped down on your bed, handing him his pizza and a can of coke because that was all you had in your fridge. “It’s okay, you’re my favorite old man.”

You leaned up to kiss his cheek, bumping his glasses with your nose. He gave you a look out of the corner of his eye that was anything but amused. Which made you laugh even more as you took a bite out of your pizza.

“I hope I’m your only old man.” He chuckled, squinting his eyes the slightest bit as he typed a text on his phone. God he wished he could turn this fucking thing off. He couldn't even be out of the hospital for an hour before he got bombarded with messages. He caught the way you shot him a glare and he gave you a quick ‘sorry’ before he set his phone down.

“I dunno, the chief of peds is quite the catch.” You couldn’t help but snort at the look he gave you, and you just shot him a smile. “Jokes. Totally joking babe.”

You ate in silence for a while, you kew you had to be up again at six in the fucking morning, but you just wanted to enjoy having him all to yourself for just a little longer. There was still a lingering thought in your mind, you’ve had it all night. It never left your mind. Robby was watching whatever you decided to play on the TV when you turned to look at him.

“Robby,” you said softly, he hummed as he turned his head to look at you. “Do you want to talk about today? It's okay if you don’t… I just think you should talk to someone, and I want to listen.”

You saw the hesitation in his warm eyes, the tension and dread from such a shitty day coming back to him. His lips fell in a flat line, and his jaw locked the slightest bit. You offered him a soft smile as you sat closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder with a soft shake of your head.

“Not tonight, okay? We can talk about it tomorrow.” He sighed out, leaning to leave a kiss to the side of your head. And you nodded with a reassuring smile.

You didn’t know how he was prior to the pandemic, maybe he was worse, or maybe he had gotten better since. But you didn’t mind putting in a little work to break down his walls and help him open. You would do anything, and you were okay with waiting.

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