#chapter 3
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I had this in thought alot! (It's gory if you don't mind!)
Poppy playtime player becoming so hungry at this point that their losing their sanity and thinking of eating the corpses For survival so the rest has to hold player down from eating the corpses!
(I know its gory and so sorry if it made you uncomfortable)
𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐖𝐞 𝐆𝐨
Sypnosis [The tempting smell of the corpses becomes more and more frequent, it eventually became too hard for you too ignore due to your increasing hunger. Luckily, you had some allies to help you resist it; even if forcibly.]
Characters [Kissy Missy, DogDay, Poppy, Doey The Doughman. (Seperate)]
Note || you didn’t make me uncomfortable at all! Don’t worry, but it’s a topic I tried to write with care. This shit is a very real thing that can happen, and should be treated with caution and respect.
Kissy Missy
You had never imagined it would come to this: an insatiable hunger gnawing at your gut, unrelenting as the hours passed. You, once a proud employee of Playtime Co., found yourself trapped in the eerie, decaying remnants of the factory, alongside strange, monstrous beings that had once been your colleagues. The stench of death lingered thick in the air, a heavy reminder of the atrocities committed during The Hour of Joy, but now it did more than just disgust you. Now, it tempted you.
At first, you fought against the gnawing cravings that threatened to overtake you. How could you—someone who had worked here—ever think of consuming the bodies of the very ones you had once known, even if they were twisted remnants of their former selves? And yet, each passing hour made it harder to resist, each sight of a fallen figure, each whiff of their decaying flesh, made your resolve falter. Hunger, once a mere inconvenience, became a ravenous beast clawing at your insides.
But you were not alone in this misery. Kissy Missy, who had once been just another experiment under Playtime Co.'s cruel reign, was there, always by your side. Tall and slender, her pink fur now marred by the scars of countless battles, she seemed almost... human in a way. Her blue bow and yellow hands stood out against her once pristine pink fur, now tattered from years of neglect and violence. She had been through her own trauma, the burns on her right side proof of that, yet she still managed to offer you a strange sense of comfort, a reminder that you weren't the only one left with so much lost.
You hated the hunger, but it was her presence that kept you from succumbing. Despite her own pain and injuries, she remained strong, acting as a barrier between you and the darkness threatening to overtake you.
Kissy's efforts were not subtle. She could see the desperation in your eyes as you edged closer to the corpses scattered around the facility, the lifeless remains of those who had been victims of the Prototype’s reign. She had already seen what the hunger could do to a person, and she would be damned if she allowed you to fall victim to it.
"Don’t," she would warn, her voice surprisingly gentle despite the fierceness that radiated from her. "Stay with me."
You hated that she had to intervene, to hold you back with both her force and concern. But you knew deep down that she was right. If she weren't there, you might have already given in, becoming something far worse than you already were. The hunger was more than just physical. It was a pull, a drive to consume the very thing that you had once been, the remnants of a life that had crumbled away into twisted, grotesque shapes.
Each time you got too close, her grip tightened around your arm, pulling you away from the gruesome temptation. There were moments, though, when you could feel your resistance weakening, when the hunger surged so strongly that it drowned out every other thought. At those times, she was not gentle. She would force you back, pushing you away from the remains, her sharp eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and fierce determination.
It was only then, in those moments, that you saw the lengths she was willing to go to keep you from crossing that line. The force she applied was not cruel but necessary. You were no longer yourself, a mere shell of who you once were. And she, though herself a victim of this cruel factory, refused to let you become something even worse.
"You’re not one of them," Kissy would say, her voice laced with a fierce protectiveness. "Don’t lose yourself."
There was something strange about the way she said it, as though she knew something deeper, something that had been lost to you. You were not just another victim of the Prototype’s horrific games—you were something else, something worth saving.
The hunger didn’t go away, not entirely. But you fought against it, clinging to the memory of who you used to be. And as each day passed, as each battle with your own cravings grew more intense, you realized that you weren’t alone in this anymore. Kissy Missy, despite her own pain, was there, holding you back from the abyss, keeping you tethered to whatever humanity you had left.
She would do anything to prevent you from falling, even if it meant pushing you to your breaking point. And in the end, you knew you owed her more than just your survival. She had become your anchor in a world that had long since drowned in darkness, guiding you through the factory’s nightmarish halls with a strength that you had long since lost.
But even then, there were moments when the hunger threatened to overtake you, and in those moments, you understood just how far Kissy Missy was willing to go to save you from yourself. She was more than just an ally; she was a reminder of the last shred of humanity that existed in this forsaken place.
Would you be able to resist the temptation forever? Could you both survive the horrors that awaited you in the depths of Playtime Co.? Only time would tell, but as long as Kissy Missy was there, you felt a sliver of hope that you might just find a way to escape the darkness together.
DogDay
You stagger through the cold, decaying corridors, your stomach gnawing at you with an unbearable hunger. It's been hours since you last found food, and your body is betraying you. The thought of cannibalism has been creeping into your mind, tempting you like a forbidden fruit. The idea repulses you, but with every passing hour, that same thought grows more and more alluring. Your lips are dry, your body weak, and every fiber of your being is screaming for sustenance. You grit your teeth, trying to push the urge down, but it rises again, a terrifying whisper in the back of your mind.
"Why not?" it asks, a cold voice that isn't your own. "What else is there? Food is food, isn't it?"
You stumble forward, your vision blurred from exhaustion. The floor beneath you seems to shift, as if the very foundation of this forsaken place is alive. You know you're being driven mad, but your hunger, that primal instinct, is overpowering. The walls seem to close in on you, their decay a reflection of your own deteriorating state of mind.
Just as you're about to give in to the temptation, a voice, soft yet commanding, cuts through the haze of your thoughts.
"Don't," DogDay says, his monotone voice a calm anchor in the storm that rages inside you. His words are a gentle plea, a reminder of the bond you share with him.
You turn to see him, his disfigured form standing in the shadowed corner of the hallway. His orange fur is a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding you, and despite his monstrous appearance, there's a sense of comfort in his presence. His body is a grotesque mockery of what it once was, bisected at the waist and held together with leather straps, yet his eyes, black and expressive, seem to convey nothing but concern for you.
"DogDay..." you mutter, your voice hoarse, as you struggle to stand. "I can't... I don't know how much longer I can hold on."
DogDay's head tilts slightly, as if he understands the torment you're going through. He knows. He's been there before, though perhaps in a different way. His stitched-together body speaks of an existence far more painful than yours could ever be. And yet, he chooses to help you, to guide you through this madness.
"I won't let you," DogDay says firmly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You can't. This isn't the way."
You can feel the weight of his words sink into you, and for a moment, you close your eyes, trying to push the hunger down again. But it lingers, gnawing at your insides. It's tempting, so tempting to give in.
But DogDay is here. He always has been.
You turn to him, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you take a step back. Not just from the hunger, but from the madness that has consumed you. You're not alone. DogDay is here, and though he can't move as freely as he once did, he is steadfast in his support.
The moment passes, but the hunger is still there, lurking beneath the surface. It's waiting for you to falter, to give in. But DogDay won't let that happen.
"Stay with me," he urges, his voice as steady as ever. "I know the darkness calls to you, but you're stronger than it. We just need to keep moving. Keep moving, and we'll find a way out."
You nod, wiping the sweat from your brow. The hunger doesn't go away, but for now, it's bearable. You can withstand it. With DogDay by your side, you will survive this.
As you walk together through the decaying corridors, the weight of the past still hanging heavily on your shoulders, you can't help but wonder just how far DogDay has come. He was once part of a group, the Smiling Critters, living in harmony with the experiments, but all of that changed during The Hour of Joy. The chaos, the bloodshed, it shattered everything. DogDay was left behind, a solitary figure in a world gone mad. Yet, through it all, he remained resilient, steadfast in his determination to help you.
"I was not always like this," DogDay says quietly, as if reading your thoughts. "I had a family once. A purpose. But that was taken from me, just like it was taken from everyone else."
His words hang in the air, heavy with grief and longing. You know the story, of course. The Smiling Critters' revolt against the Prototype, their deaths, and DogDay's subsequent imprisonment by CatNap. It was a tragic tale, one that left DogDay scarred in both body and mind. But despite it all, he chose to survive.
And now, he chooses to help you survive.
The thought is enough to steel your resolve. You can do this. You will not succumb to the darkness. Not while DogDay is here to keep you grounded.
The two of you move forward, one step at a time, the silence between you comfortable, yet filled with unspoken understanding. The hunger still claws at you, but for now, you resist. With DogDay by your side, you know you can make it through this.
Poppy
The atmosphere in the factory was suffocating. The low hum of machines, the distant clattering of metal, and the unsettling silence in between all gnawed at you. You'd been walking for hours now, your stomach growling like an angry beast inside of you, each hour dragging the hunger closer to the surface. There was a time when you’d had a deep hatred for the idea of cannibalism. But now? The thought didn’t seem so absurd. Every inch of your body ached with need. The edges of your vision blurred with hunger, but still, you resisted the impulse.
"You need to hold it together," you muttered to yourself, your voice hoarse and desperate. You couldn't let your mind go there, couldn’t let the gnawing hunger take you to such a dark place.
Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw her—Poppy. A doll, yes, but one that seemed to hold some kind of strange power over you. She was small, porcelain skin cracked, but her eyes... her eyes were too real. Too alive. The crack running across her face only seemed to add to the unsettling, almost haunting nature of her presence. Yet she was there, watching over you, her concern evident even with her painted smile.
"Are you okay?" Poppy's voice, though childlike, held an unexpected firmness, as if she knew exactly what you were going through.
"Do I look okay?" you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm starving. I'm dying. And you're... just a doll. What could you possibly understand?"
Poppy didn't flinch. She merely tilted her head, her glassy blue eyes reflecting your pain in a way that only made the hunger worse. But there was something else behind those eyes. Understanding? Sympathy? It was hard to tell.
"I understand more than you think," she said quietly. "You don't want to go down that path. Trust me."
Her words held a strange weight. Despite her being a mere doll, she exuded a certain authority—like she was guiding you, almost protecting you from your own darkness. It was unnerving and, yet, comforting at the same time.
You stepped back, wiping your brow, but the hunger wouldn't let you go. It clawed at you, deep within, screaming to be fed. Your hand instinctively reached towards the nearest source of food—a small, half-eaten rat carcass lying in the shadows.
Before your fingers could wrap around it, Poppy's small, porcelain hand shot out. "No," she said sharply, her voice cutting through the fog in your mind. "I won't let you."
You froze, staring at her, confused. "What... what are you going to do about it? You're just a doll. What power do you have?"
Poppy's eyes narrowed. "I have more power than you think. And I will stop you."
Before you could process the words, Poppy was suddenly in front of you, her small hand placed firmly on your chest. You felt a strange warmth spread from the spot where her hand met your skin, and for a moment, the hunger seemed to ebb away, replaced by something else—something deeper. But just as quickly, the warmth was gone, replaced by a biting cold as Poppy stepped back.
"You don't understand," she said, her voice softer now. "I won't let you become like them. I won't let you become like... him."
You stared at her in confusion, your mind too clouded with hunger to process what she meant. You'd heard the whispers about the Prototype, the monster who twisted everything around him, but you couldn’t focus on that now. Not with the gnawing ache in your gut.
"I can't hold on much longer," you whispered. "I need food. Real food."
Poppy took a deep breath, her porcelain face still. She seemed to consider something before her eyes flickered to the side, as if she were contemplating an action. Then, with a sudden, sharp motion, she grabbed your wrist.
"You will not fall to this. Not while I’m here. Not while there’s a chance."
The intensity in her voice stunned you. You'd never expected a doll—a toy—to show such determination. But it was there. Her unwavering resolve was impossible to ignore.
"You don't understand," you said again, more urgently this time. "You can't stop me. You don't know what it’s like to be on the edge like this... to be so desperate."
Poppy's eyes softened, but her grip on your wrist tightened. "I do understand," she whispered. "I've seen the consequences of desperation. I've seen what it can turn you into. And I won't let you become that."
You looked into her eyes, seeing not a doll, but something much more complex. Something alive, struggling with the same darkness you were. She was just as broken as you, perhaps even more so, trapped in this hellish place for who knows how long.
"I will fight this," you rasped, voice trembling.
"You will fight this," Poppy repeated, as though reinforcing the promise to yourself. "I won't let you lose."
The hunger still gnawed at you, but there was something in Poppy's words—a lifeline. A chance. You weren’t sure if it was enough to save you, but you weren’t alone anymore. She had no power over your body, but in this twisted game of survival, she had become your tether. Your reminder of something you had long forgotten: humanity. You just had to hold on.
And for the first time in hours, you didn’t feel entirely alone.
Doey The Doughman
It had hours, maybe even more then a couple days—you couldn’t tell anymore. Time had become a blur, and the hunger gnawed at you with an intensity you could hardly describe. Your stomach was a hollow pit, and every hour that passed, the sensation grew worse. You hated it. You hated the very idea of what you were beginning to consider. But your options were running out.
The factory, once a place full of life and color, now stood desolate, a rotting carcass of what it had once been. Its walls, dim and cracked, seemed to close in on you with every passing moment. Your search for food had been fruitless, and what remained of the once-thriving operations was little more than discarded remnants of forgotten lives. Desperation had begun to seep into your thoughts, and with it, a temptation you never thought you would entertain.
Cannibalism. The idea lingered in the back of your mind like a whisper in the dark. You knew it was wrong, morally abhorrent, but the hunger—it was becoming unbearable. You couldn’t deny that the flesh of another being, even one of the toy creatures that had once roamed this place, might offer a solution. You didn’t want to think about it, but your body cried out for sustenance.
It was then that you heard the soft squish of footsteps approaching. You turned, blinking against the fading light, and saw him: Doey.
The dough-like creature was an oddity in this forsaken world. His body, made of multicolored, clay-like dough, seemed to shimmer in the dimness. His long arms—orange and yellow—hung at his sides, his short, stubby red legs moving with surprising speed. The blue bowler hat perched on his head was almost comical against his mismatched features, and his simple, expressive face, with a line for a mouth and two holes for eyes, always seemed to radiate an air of cheer, even in the darkest of times.
"Hey there," Doey’s voice was calm, but there was an undertone of concern that you couldn’t ignore. He could always tell when something was wrong, even if you hadn’t spoken a word.
You had never been one for speaking about your feelings, especially with a creature like Doey. You didn’t trust anyone—not after everything you’d been through. But there was something different about him. Something about his kindness, his willingness to help, even when it meant putting himself in danger.
"I know you're struggling," Doey said, his eyes narrowing as he read your expression. "But you have to resist it. You can’t let the hunger take control of you. Not like this."
You swallowed hard, feeling the knot in your throat tighten. "I don’t know if I can hold on much longer," you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.
Doey stepped closer, his large arms almost seeming to engulf you in their reach as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "I’m not going to let you fall into that darkness," he said firmly. "I promised you. I’ll help you resist, even if it means doing things you might not like."
You blinked, looking at the doughy figure in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"
Without warning, Doey’s expression shifted from that of a friendly companion to something far more serious. The playful demeanor that usually characterized his every move was gone, replaced by a cold determination. "I’m going to stop you if I have to," he said, his voice stern, yet full of understanding. "I won’t let you give in to it."
Your breath hitched, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of fear. It wasn’t from Doey himself, but from the fact that you knew, deep down, he was right. If you gave in, it wouldn’t just be your body that suffered—it would be your soul, too. But the temptation was so strong. It was almost impossible to push it away.
"Don’t make me do this," Doey warned, as if sensing your internal struggle. "You don’t want to go down that path."
The hunger inside you raged, a beast that tore at your insides. Your thoughts were clouded by the vision of the soft, tender flesh that could satiate you. You tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to your mind like a shadow.
You took a step forward, your hands trembling as you gripped a nearby piece of metal, your mind flickering with the thought of using it, of ending the misery that had overtaken you.
"Don’t," Doey’s voice was sharp, his body blocking your path. "I will stop you, even if it means I have to restrain you."
He wasn’t threatening. He was determined. And in that moment, you knew he would do it.
You locked eyes with him, the weight of your internal battle becoming unbearable. The hunger had made you weak, both physically and mentally, but Doey was your anchor, a reminder of the better part of yourself. He wasn’t just a friend; he was a lifeline.
"Please," you whispered, the word escaping you before you could stop it. "I can’t—"
Doey didn’t give you a chance to finish. His long, orange arm shot out, grabbing you by the wrist with surprising force. "I won’t let you go there," he said softly, but with an unmistakable firmness. "You’re not alone in this. Not anymore."
For a moment, you struggled, but the strength in his grip was like nothing you had ever encountered. He wasn’t trying to hurt you—he was holding you, not with force, but with care.
"Just breathe," Doey said, guiding you to sit down on the cold concrete floor. "We’ll get through this. Together."
And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to lean into him. The hunger was still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind, but with Doey by your side, the battle didn’t seem so hopeless.
You weren’t alone.
And that, you realized, was more than you could have hoped for in a place like this.
#poppy playtime#poppy playtime x reader#kissy missy x reader#kissy missy poppy playtime#kissy missy#poppy playtime kissy missy#dogday x reader#dogday poppy playtime#poppy playtime dogday#dogday#poppy poppy playtime#poppy x reader#poppy playtime poppy#poppy playtime 3#poppy playtime 4#chapter 3#chapter 4#doey the doughman#poppy playtime doey#doey x reader#doey ppt
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Waves Always Crash /// Page 79
Previous || First || Next
[You can read ahead on Patreon!]
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theo, why did you fight that boy?
ask 5
ACT 2
time to check my inbox
#poppy playtime#chapter 3#art#smiling critters#drawing#catnap#my au#Two Souls AU#theodore grambell#New lore is being written#muhahahahah#poppy playtime chapter 3
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Some goofy ass character head canon
Catnap dose not like dogman stans 🧍🏻♀️🧍🏻♀️
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This is how chapter 3 went and you can't convince me otherwise.

#more old art#my art#art#twisted wonderland#twst#chapter 3#savanaclaw#Leona discovered that day the power of karaoke#badly sung karaoke#mello's drawings#leona kingscholar#ruggie bucchi#jack howl#twst mc#twst grim
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#The Witch's House#chapter 3#shounen#quote#manga#manga cap#my edits#monochrome#mangacap#manga panel#popular
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˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Chapter 03;
— Your Sweet Love
Synosis: In a marriage born out of convenience and plagued by bitterness, You and Sunghoon find yourselves trapped in a cycle of cold indifference and unspoken resentment. Your quiet strength and tender care begin to reach the heart Sunghoon has so carefully guarded. Slowly, walls built from years of hurt and mistrust start to crumble, revealing a shared loneliness neither had acknowledged. With every tentative step toward connection, your hearts yearn for a closeness you’ve long denied yourself selves, leaving both to wonder if you can build something real from the ashes of your forced bond.
Navigation: Intro - 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 Pairing: fem!reader X husband!Park Sunghoon Genre: Arranged Marriage trope; Slow Burn; Angst; Fluff; Smut (kinda) Warnings: cursing, mention of pills (some are drugs); abuse; mentions of blood; sexual content; injuries; heavy themes; juicy tension ;) Music: Listen to 'nevertheless ost' and 'the trunk ost'!! Disclaimer: This story is fiction, and it does not reflect real life in any way. This story is heavily inspired by the kdrama 'The Trunk' on Netflix but with a special twist! Words: 8k - New Chapter Every Saturday!!
A/n: This chapter was hard to write for some unknown reason, but it's literally my favorite!!! It's longer than usual, so enjoy! Also, I want to warn you: this chapter talks about domestic violence and has heavy themes, so be careful. Thank you for all the love and support. It means everything to me <3
The days after your injury seemed to pass tediously slowly. With your wounded right hand, you couldn’t do the usual chores that kept you busy during the day, leaving you stuck in bed or on the sofa. Watching TV and casually scrolling on your phone were all you could manage for the whole week. To you, it felt like you were a helpless princess trapped in a tower, unable to leave or do anything to distract your mind.
Today is Saturday, and it’s the most energetic and busy you’ve been all week. Since it’s the weekend, Sunghoon is at home with you, keeping you company and keeping an eye on you. The morning passed faster than it should have as you tried to help your husband with a quick cleaning of the house. Following your instructions, Sunghoon vacuumed the three bedrooms while you slowly wiped the dust off the surfaces. It was a simple task, but it was all you could do with just one hand. After that, he continued cleaning the kitchen while you busied yourself with the living room.
Once all the cleaning was done, you could feel how wet and sticky with sweat your body was, so you decided to take a quick bath to freshen up. You informed your husband of your plan, and he nodded, making a mental note to shower right after you. The sun outside was bright, casting its warm light through the large windows, bringing a sense of comfort with it. A soft breeze brushed against your skin as you walked to the main bathroom, the open windows refreshing the air.
As you stepped inside the bathroom, Sunghoon decided to lounge in the living room, planning to catch up on the series he had been watching. He threw himself onto the long sofa, yawning from exhaustion as he sank into the comfy pillows beneath him. Though he was focused on the TV, he kept an ear out for you, just in case you called.
In the large bathroom, completely illuminated by the bright sun outside, you began slowly stripping off your clothes. The warmth of the sunlight on your skin made you feel safe. As your clothes piled on the floor, your eyes scanned the tiled room, searching for the plastic glove you had been using on your right hand to help you wash without wetting your injured palm. You spotted it resting near the gold faucet. Carefully, you slid the stiff plastic material onto your hand and secured it around your wrist with a scrunchie, making sure it was tight before stepping into the tub. The bathtub was filling up as you moved, the fog from the hot water clouding the space.
Soon, you're sitting comfortably in the bathtub, the superheated water reaching just below your chest, making goosebumps form on your skin. Your arms dip beneath the surface as you let your head rest against the tub, savoring the quiet moment. After a few minutes of resting, you reach for your vanilla body wash and slowly begin washing yourself, keeping your injured hand in the air to protect it. The atmosphere is peaceful, the warmth of the sun, the water, and the familiar sweet scent relaxing you even further.
When you finish washing your body, you close your eyes and mentally prepare yourself to wash your hair. It’s always a struggle. Because it’s long, it requires a few extra steps to get it back to its natural state, and with only one hand to work with, it’s even harder. You gradually reach for your shampoo, causing little waves to ripple around you, and pour a bit onto the head massager you bought a few days ago to make the process easier.
You’re doing an okay job brushing your scalp when, suddenly, the tool slips from your hand and slides across the tiled floor with a loud thump. You bite your lip and quietly curse at yourself, barely believing what just happened. Your mind races for solutions. Two ideas cross your mind: you can stand up, walk over to retrieve it, and then get back into the water… or you can call Sunghoon for help.
Smiling at the second thought, you shake your head. There’s no way you’re calling him to assist you. Still, your heart starts to speed up at the thought of it—his handsome face peeking in as he hands you the massager, his usual confidence faltering at the sight of your bare skin. Your mind wanders even further, imagining how Sunghoon’s slender fingers could probably do a better job of washing your hair than that stupid tool, reaching all the spots you can’t quite get to.
Knowing that is definitely not happening, you reconsider the first option. You’d probably make a mess on the floor, leaving a large puddle of water as you walked. And worse, you could slip and fall—the tiles get dangerously slippery when wet. You close your eyes again, pressing your lips into a thin line, hating that, for your own good, you have no choice but to call for Sunghoon.
The truth is, you’re afraid of the growing proximity between you and Sunghoon. You’ve become dependent on his "good morning" every day to set the tone for your day. And lately, there’s been a tension between you—subtle but undeniable. Every time you’re close to him, you can feel it, like electricity traveling from his eyes to yours, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
Sunghoon has been incredibly attentive and helpful ever since you cut yourself. He’s always around—preparing your meals, helping you grab heavier things, even something as simple as your coffee cup. You’ve started to notice how his touch lingers sometimes. When he holds your hand to help you put on your shoes, his fingers intertwine with yours for just a second too long. His other hand rests faintly on your hip to steady you, a barely-there presence that still sends your thoughts spiraling. With all these thoughts running through your mind, you make a decision.
“Sunghoon!” you call out, hoping he can hear you despite the distance.
Silence. You try again. And again. You chew on your lip, hating how dependent you’ve become on him, hating that he doesn’t seem to hear you. Just as you’re about to get up, there’s a faint knock on the wooden door.
“YN, is everything okay?” Sunghoon asks from the other side, his voice slightly breathless. He was nearly dozing off on the couch when he heard your voice calling for him. Worried, he rushed to the bathroom, ready to help with whatever you needed.
“Can you come in? I need help with something…” you admit, your voice louder, making sure he hears you this time.
Sunghoon hesitates. He doesn’t know what state you’re in, and if he walks in to see your bare body, he’s sure he’ll combust. The urge to touch you, to give in to whatever this tension is, has been driving him insane these past few days.
“Should I?” he murmurs, lower than he intended, his palm sweaty as it grips the doorknob, not quite turning it yet.
“Yes…” you answer. “Please.”
The invisible restraints holding him back snap at the sound of your plea. You always manage to hit his sweet spot without even realizing it, and he hates it.
Slowly, Sunghoon turns the doorknob and steps inside, taking a deep breath to steady himself. As soon as he enters the tiled bathroom, your scent surrounds him, invading his senses and clinging to his clothes. His brown eyes scan the scene in front of him, heat creeping through his body.
You’re sitting in the tub, your body turned toward the door as you lazily rest your head on your hand, your arm propped on the thick edge of the bathtub. Your black hair is soapy and piled messily on top of your head, and for a brief moment, he can’t help but think of how adorable you look. Then, his gaze shifts, catching sight of your right hand covered in a plastic glove. His attention snaps back to your face immediately.
“Why do you have a plastic glove on your hand?” he asks, still standing a few centimeters from the door, keeping his distance.
Your eyes find his, and for a second, you get lost in the deep brown of his gaze, words escaping you. But when he tilts his head slightly, confusion evident, waiting for an answer, you finally look away.
“I can’t get my hand wet,” you explain, closing your eyes as you add, “so I put the glove on so I could take a bath. Is that so hard to understand?” You said frustrated.
“You could have asked for help! It’s not good to keep your hand inside those cheap gloves. Besides, you should be washing that hand too—carefully.” Sunghoon sounds genuinely worried as he speaks, his eyes widening to emphasize his point. His hands move along with his words, gesturing in frustration.
A small smile tugs at your lips as he expresses his concern, and despite your best efforts, the little butterflies in your stomach begin to flutter. He looks adorable like this. Still, despite his words, Sunghoon remains frozen in place, as if his feet have grown roots, keeping him glued to the floor.
“Can you pass me that?” you interrupt, pointing at the black massager lying near his feet. “It slipped from my hand when I was washing my hair.” You gesture with your injured hand while your other arm remains firmly in place, shielding your bare chest.
“Oh—yeah. Sure,” Sunghoon stutters, suddenly realizing that you had everything under control and didn’t actually need his help. It shouldn’t surprise him—after all, you’ve always been used to doing things on your own.
He quickly bends down to grab it and steps forward to hand it back to you. His figure towers over you as he moves closer. You reach out with the arm you were using to cover yourself, stretching to take the plastic tool—but before you can, it slips from Sunghoon’s hands, rolling away once again.
You glance up at him, brows furrowed, ready to scold him. But the moment your eyes meet his, the words catch in your throat, swallowed by the intensity of his stare.
Sunghoon is completely entranced, his brain short-circuiting as his gaze greedily drinks you in. Your wide eyes look even larger as you tilt your head up to meet his, your pink lips slightly parted as you breathe slowly. A warm, rosy blush spreads across your skin—from your round cheeks and pointed nose down your neck and chest.
Soupy bubbles form around the edge of the water as it touches your skin, your breasts exposed. The way your skin glistens under the soft sunlight, the sweet scent wafting from your body, and the sight of your cute little hardened nipples make him lose his mind. Your seemingly innocent aura pulls him in, making it impossible to resist.
Sunghoon feels a tingling sensation spread through his body as his gaze travels back to your face—only to find you already searching for his eyes. Maybe he’s touch-starved from being single all this time, or maybe you’ve cast some kind of spell on him. Either way, he wants to touch you, to devour you as if you were the last meal he would ever taste.
“Sunghoon…” You call his name so softly it almost sounds like a needy moan. The truth is, you can feel his desire for you, deep in your bones. He’s a dangerously attractive man—tall, muscular, exuding confidence, and carrying a scent that draws you in like a drug.
“You don’t need to use those gloves ever again,” Sunghoon says, his voice low and firm. He kneels in front of you, reaching for your hand as he gently tugs at the cheap glove.
He does it slowly, carefully—his fingers burning as they graze your wrist, holding your hand still while he peels the glove away. A soft thud echoes in the foggy bathroom as it falls to the tiled floor. As he lingers, his fingertips barely ghost over your wound, his eyes locked onto your palm as if willing it to heal.
Your gaze never leaves his face as he continues his delicate ministrations, completely captivated by the tenderness of his touch. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, suppressing the overwhelming urge to kiss him. The thought of his plump lips pressing against yours, finally claiming you, makes your throat go dry.
“Can you turn around and hand me the shampoo bottle?” Sunghoon suddenly says, his voice softer now. “I’ll wash your hair for you. Just make sure you don’t dip your hand in the water—we’ll wash it after so it doesn’t affect the wound.”
His head tilts up, meeting your gaze once again. A small, knowing smile tugs at his lips before he shakes his head, silently commanding you to do as he says.
Breathlessly, you do just that—turning your back to the side of the tub and handing him the bottle of shampoo. This position is perfect. Sunghoon has easy access to your scalp, and you can finally face away from him, trying to regain your self-control, which seems to slip away with every second your eyes linger on his.
Sunghoon’s fingers slowly thread through your hair, gently tilting your head back to keep the shampoo from getting into your eyes. The confidence in his touch makes you wonder—has he done this before? Your mind drifts to thoughts of his ex-lover. Did he often wash her hair like this?
A gentle yet precise massage at the nape of your neck pulls you out of your thoughts, making your breath hitch in surprise. Your eyes flutter shut as you savor the way he works through your hair, occasionally letting out quiet gasps when he seems to hit just the right spot. His skilled hands leave your scalp for a moment as he reaches for the showerhead to rinse your hair. Without a word, you slide forward, creating space so you can tilt your head back, letting the warm water cascade down into the tub.
Sunghoon gulps at the sight before him. Your face is completely relaxed under the stream, water gliding down your hair. His gaze travels lower, catching a glimpse of your breasts—wet, glistening, and perfectly peaked. He exhales heavily, knowing he shouldn’t touch you. But God, he wants to.
Dragging his eyes back up, he checks your hair, making sure it's ready for the next step.
“Which one is it?” Sunghoon asks, his deep voice reverberating through the steamy room—and your empty mind.
You open your eyes slowly, meeting his gaze for a brief second before reaching for your hair treatment.
With a shy smile, you hand it to your husband, feeling exposed yet reveling in the way he stares at you. His gaze makes you feel wanted. Desired. But it also makes your skin burn with unbearable heat.
Sunghoon takes the small pot, scooping out just a bit of the rich formula with his fingertips as you settle back into place, awaiting his touch once more.
Sunghoon holds your hair carefully, applying the hair mask from the middle to the tips, scrunching it lightly—knowing it’s needed for your wavy strands. As his expert fingers work through your hair, your mind wanders again. He knows exactly what he’s doing, making it painfully clear that he’s done this before. More than once.
“How long do we have to wait?” he asks, taking you by surprise.
“Five minutes,” you respond, turning to face him, your lips pressing into a thin line.
Sunghoon reaches for you, gathering all your hair and placing it over your left shoulder, letting it rest against your chest.
“There,” he murmurs. “Like this, it won’t get wet.” His voice is low, almost hesitant, as he feels the heat creeping up his neck and ears under your unwavering gaze.
“Have you done this before?” you ask softly, your eyes never leaving his face.
Sunghoon looks away, as if trying to avoid the question. But he isn’t scared of you anymore. So why not tell the truth?
“Well,” he begins, settling down on the floor and leaning his back against the tub, his face now level with yours. You rest your head on your palm, waiting for his explanation.
“My ex used to come home drunk after going out with her friends. She was always a mess—barely able to move. Sometimes she would even throw up on herself. So I started helping her shower as soon as she got inside the house.”
His once-relaxed expression hardens. His brows knit together, and his lips form a small, displeased pout as he recalls the memories.
You stay silent, unsure of what to say. Sunghoon notices and turns to face you. Your lips are sealed shut, the corners subtly dipping downward. Your eyes, almost half-lidded, stare at your hand as if you’re fighting an internal battle.
Then, finally, your gaze lifts to meet his. In that moment, nothing else exists—just you and him.
Your heartbeat picks up, thudding so loudly you’re sure Sunghoon can hear it. But he doesn’t seem to care. He’s lost in the red flecks of your deep brown irises, in the way your eyes always give away more than your words ever could.
And before he can think, before logic can catch up—his body moves on its own.
Slowly, he leans in.
Your lips part in anticipation, longing for nothing more than to finally taste those plump lips of his—the ones that never seem to leave your mind. You close your eyes, hoping to feel his warmth against yours, but instead, you're met with nothing.
When you open your eyes, Sunghoon is reaching for the showerhead.
Embarrassment burns through your cheeks, and you quickly shift inside the tub, making room for him to rinse your hair once more. You bite your lip nervously as you tilt your head back, careful to keep the water from getting in your eyes.
Each second drags on unbearably as he gently caresses the ends of your hair, making sure every trace of the mask is gone. The air between you feels thick—so heavy you could probably cut it with a knife. Every moment suffocates you, robbing you of breath.
Sunghoon finally turns off the water. You pull your knees to your chest, resting your cheek against them, the sting of embarrassment and rejection making you want to cry.
Once your hair is done, Sunghoon reaches for a small towel hanging by the tub. He dips a corner into the water before looking at you.
“Can I have your hand?” he asks gently.
You let him take your wrist again, watching as he carefully rubs your injured hand, cleaning it with such tenderness it makes your chest ache. Your wide eyes remain fixed on him, feeling every ounce of care in his touch. The weight in your heart grows heavier, your emotions now as clear as water.
“All done,” Sunghoon murmurs with a small smile, turning his head slightly to meet your gaze. You hesitate before making eye contact, but the softness in his eyes eases the feeling weighing you down.
“I’ll be waiting for you in the living room,” he continues sweetly. “The new season of that basketball anime we were watching just dropped. I’ll bring the blanket and snacks.”
Then he flashes you one of those warm, seductive smiles, and it hits you square in the heart. As he walks away, you don’t move—your mind still stuck on the rejected kiss. Sunghoon notices you lost in thought.
“Come on, hurry up,” he says before closing the door, leaving you alone once and for all.
You let out a long sigh that had been caught in your throat and finally stand up, following his orders.
The rest of the evening unfolds exactly as Sunghoon had planned—the two of you sitting on the sofa in the living room, watching anime and eating junk food. You sit in the right corner while Sunghoon takes the opposite side, but at some point, without you noticing, he inches closer and closer.
Your tired eyes scan the room, burning from the bright TV lights, when you suddenly notice Sunghoon asleep, his head resting on your lap.
You don’t remember him moving this close, nor do you recall him falling asleep. But instead of waking him, you stay still for a few more minutes, letting him rest.
It’s amusing to watch him blink awake, immediately staring at you with a confused expression plastered across his face. The moment he realizes where he is, he quickly apologizes and sits up, his cheeks flushing red at the unexpected closeness.
Yawning, you also get up from the sofa and start heading toward your room, eager to sink into the comfort of your bed.
Sunghoon watches as you walk past him, his eyes never leaving your body. A part of him urges him to run after you, to pull you into his bedroom—but he knows that would be crossing a line he could never return from.
So he stays frozen in place like a fool, watching as you disappear into your room, leaving him feeling dizzy and lonely.
“You first,” Sunghoon instructs as he holds open the heavy restaurant door, leaving space for you to pass so he can follow right after.
The restaurant is busy, filled with the sounds of chatter and laughter as soon as you step inside. The rich scent of barbecue fills your nose, making your stomach growl in anticipation.
A friendly woman stands by the entrance, greeting every guest with a warm smile. As soon as she spots the two of you, she quickly leads you to a table in the back of the room. It’s a table for four, surrounded by tall bamboo plants that provide a sense of privacy.
Sunghoon steps behind you, gently helping you take off your coat. Once done, he drapes it over the back of your chair before guiding you to sit. As you settle in, you glance up at him, wanting to show your gratitude for his gentlemanly actions. Your smile is met with his own as he walks around the table and takes the seat across from you.
Hungry, your eyes scan the menu quickly, already knowing what you want to order. Meanwhile, Sunghoon is still considering his choices. Resting your chin on your hand, you take a moment to admire the way his eyes focus so intently.
It’s Sunday, and since it’s yet another sunny day, Sunghoon invited you to join him at his favorite barbecue place. At first, you were taken aback by his request—he had never done this before. But then you remembered the dinner proposal from the night you injured yourself. He explained that this was the same thing, except this time, you’d be eating out instead of at home.
You smirked as you watched him struggle to get his words out, nervousness creeping in as he tried to explain his intentions. His flustered demeanor was endearing. You reassured him that it was a great idea and that you’d love to join him. The moment you said that, he let out a deep sigh of relief.
“Stop staring at me…” he suddenly says, putting down the menu.
“I can’t help it. The way you were shaking just to ask me to come here was so adorable,” you say sincerely. His reaction is sweet again—he quickly avoids your gaze, and you notice his ears turning red.
Sunghoon then calls out your order to the waitress, who gives him a thumbs-up and a smile. Your eyes wander to the large window next to your seat, offering the prettiest view of the Han River. Outside, people stroll leisurely, looking happy as if life regained its meaning with the sunlight. Your thoughts drift to a young couple sitting on a bench, the man handing the girl a bouquet of pink tulips, and it reminds you of Ni-ki and his sweet nature.
But your thoughts are interrupted by a loud, deep voice with a heavy accent. You turn your head to see a tall, brunette guy staring at Sunghoon, his eyes lighting up with joy.
“Sunghoon, it’s you! I haven’t seen you in so long!” he says happily, quickly leaning in to give Sunghoon a tight hug.
“Jake!” Sunghoon calls out, smiling. You notice how your husband’s face changes when his gaze lands on Jake. His eyes seem to sparkle like never before, and the smile on his lips is completely new—adorable.
“Oh, sorry for being impolite!” Jake quickly adds, looking toward you. “I’m Jake, Sunghoon’s childhood best friend!” The brunette bows at you, and you bow back.
“This is YN, my…” Sunghoon pauses, looking at you. “My wife,” he says softly, and the way the words roll off his tongue makes your cheeks turn red.
“Nice to meet you, Jake,” you say kindly, wanting to make a good impression. But despite his smile and politeness, confusion is written all over Jake’s face.
“What happened to Jiwon?” he asks shamelessly, his gaze returning to Sunghoon. Your husband glances at you, looking cornered. His features sharpen as he adjusts his shirt.
“We’re no longer together,” Sunghoon reassures, his brown eyes soft as they meet yours, as if trying to convince himself of that.
“Thank god, man,” Jake blurts out, leaving both of you baffled. “Don’t get me wrong,” he adds, noticing your confused stare, “she used to be a nice girl, but she was crazy as hell.” Your gaze shifts from Jake to Sunghoon. He’s looking at the plate in front of him, his expression weak and sad.
Silence settles for a few seconds, your eyes still glued to your husband’s. Jake seems to sense how uncomfortable the mood has become, and he glances at Sunghoon before speaking again. “It was good to see you, man. I hope we can go back to hanging out together!” He grins at his friend and pats his shoulder.
“If you want, you can sit with us!” you suggest, sensing Sunghoon hasn’t had the chance to catch up with his childhood friend in a while. Sunghoon looks at you, a mix of annoyance and happiness on his face. He’s a little disappointed that he’s no longer alone with you, but he’s also pleased to talk to his friend again.
“Sure, I’d love to!” Jake assures, taking a seat next to Sunghoon.
The conversation that follows is comfortable and fun. Jake starts telling you silly stories from their childhood, his excitement clear in his eyes. While listening intently, your eyes are fixed on Sunghoon. It’s the first time you’ve seen him laugh so openly, his friend’s easygoing nature making him open up a little more. You admire his big smile, so honest and happy, and how his brown eyes almost disappear when he laughs.
“I have to apologize for something, though,” Jake suddenly says, his gaze turning serious as he fully turns to face Sunghoon. “I shouldn’t have listened to her. It was selfish of me, but I really needed that job…” Jake explains, though you and your husband look at him with furrowed brows, clearly confused.
“Jake…” Sunghoon calls in a low voice, shaking his head and closing his eyes.
“No, listen, it’s my fault. I admit it,” the brunette insists, his accent growing heavier. Sunghoon seems to understand what’s going on, but you’re still confused.
“What are you talking about?” you ask, feeling annoyed to be left out.
Jake glances at you, then at Sunghoon. “Jiwon, his ex. She prohibited me from talking to Sunghoon. She said I was a bad influence on him. When I told her I wouldn’t stop talking to my childhood best friend, she threatened me…” Jake explains slowly, watching as your mouth falls open in surprise. “Her dad was the owner of the advocacy agency I worked at the time, and she said she’d get me fired. My mom was in the hospital at that time, and I was helping my dad pay the bills,” he continues, now shifting his eyes to Sunghoon. “I regret it now because I was fired anyway. But I never stopped caring about you, Sunghoon. The guilt was heavy every day. I couldn’t even look at our pictures from when we were younger.”
Sunghoon looks down at his lap, his hands fidgeting as he listens to his best friend, his heart aching at the honesty in his words. When he lifts his head, you can see he’s holding back tears, his sighs trembling as they meet Jake's eyes.
“It’s okay,” Sunghoon assures his friend, patting his shoulder. “You’re here now; that’s all that matters!” He says with a sad smile. Jake pouts cutely before wrapping his arms around Sunghoon’s shoulders, hugging him tightly.
You’re so busy watching that you don’t even realize you have tears in your eyes, tiny and warm. A melancholic smile forms on your lips as Sunghoon glances at you, wanting to show you how happy he is. But the truth is, it’s such a sad situation that you can’t imagine how alone and abandoned Sunghoon must have felt.
Soon, the food is placed on the table, and the two friends get lost in conversation as they grill the meat, the delicious smell making you giggle like a child. Sunghoon, despite engaging in his friend's conversation, never stops looking out for you. He cuts the meat into bite-sized portions so you can easily pick it up with your fork, keeps an eye on your cup to make sure it’s always full, and watches what food you’re eyeing so he can serve it to you.
The time seemed to fly by faster than usual, and soon you find yourself at the entrance of your home. Sunghoon is on his knees, untying the knots in your heels and helping you slip into your fluffy pink slippers. You walk to the kitchen as your husband stays behind, taking off his shoes. Inside the empty kitchen, you go straight to the fridge and grab two beers, planning to head to the living room and relax.
Sunghoon seems to catch on to your plan, so he heads straight for the living room and claims his spot on the comfy sofa. You soon appear, now in comfortable pajama pants and a long t-shirt, your big glasses back on your face. When you realize where he’s sitting, you let out a loud laugh, catching his attention.
“In the middle? That’s new,” you joke, arching an eyebrow at him. Sunghoon gives you a teasing grin and pats the empty space beside him, inviting you over. You do as he gestures and sit by his side, your knee touching his. “What are we watching? There’s no basketball match today,” you ask, glancing at him.
He’s sitting in the middle of the couch, facing you, while his side is turned toward the TV. “Can we talk instead?” Sunghoon asks softly, studying your focused face.
“Sure!” you reply with a smile, turning to face him, your side now turned toward the television. He stays quiet for a few minutes, his thoughts tangled in his mind as he gathers the courage to start talking. Before speaking, his gaze drifts from your face to his restless hands, resting on his legs.
“Jiwon wasn’t always controlling,” he begins, trying to keep his voice steady. His heart aches at the thought of her, now despising how she treated him. Noticing that he wants to have a serious conversation, your expression shifts too—your eyes narrow, and your smile fades away. “At first, she was calm, loving, and patient. She was always there for me, and that’s what made me fall for her. But over time, she completely changed. She became mean and controlling, prohibiting me from leaving the house in certain clothes, and then from seeing my friends. The worst part was how she always made it seem like it was my fault, telling me that I was trying to show off my looks and that I was starved for other women’s attention. I never even thought about anyone else, you know?” Sunghoon asks, finally able to give you a quick glance. “I could only see her.”
Hearing this wasn’t easy. Your eyebrows furrow, and a lump forms in your throat, making it impossible to say anything. When he briefly looks at you, you try to convey how sorry you feel for him with your eyes. You stare into his deep brown eyes so intensely, you’re sure he can see your soul.
“When we got engaged, it got worse.” He paused, catching his breath as it became harder to breathe. “We moved in with my dad because he was so happy I got engaged and was finally ready to learn about managing his company. Since I was always in meetings and dinners with important people, she became jealous all the time. She’d call me ten times during busy meetings. That’s when she started hitting me. At first, it was pushing me with force, then it turned into punches on my shoulders and sides… Eventually, she started slapping me. Every time I didn’t agree with her or wasn’t home when she wanted, she used it as an excuse to hit me.”
Sunghoon seemed ashamed as he spoke, his gaze nervously shifting around the room. But your eyes never left his face. Tears began to form in your eyes as you listened, and before you could do anything, they started rolling down your cheeks. They were silent but heavy, your breathing unsteady, and your hands trembling. You couldn’t even begin to understand the pain and abuse he had endured.
“I started sleeping terribly by then, feeling lonely and depressed all the time. And I had no one. My dad knew everything but acted like he didn’t. My friends stopped talking to me, and my mom…” Sunghoon’s voice cracked as tears began to form in his eyes. “I was upset at my mom. She caught Jiwon hitting me and told me to leave her and make a report to the police, but instead, I got upset at her.” Without realizing it, his tears started to fall too, wetting his warm face.
Without thinking, you reached for him and cupped his face with both hands, forcing him to look at you. That’s when he noticed you were crying with him, sharing his pain as if you were feeling it too. Your small hands tried to stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks, hating to see him this way.
“It’s not your fault, Sunghoon,” you muttered, your voice cracking. “She was abusive and evil, and it had nothing to do with you. You did nothing wrong,” you assured him, staring into his eyes as you spoke, your heart aching as if it were being stabbed.
“I know that…” he added, a sad smile forming in his eyes. “Now, I know that.”
“I’m so sorry you went through all of this,” you added, the tears now falling like a waterfall from your red eyes. It’s so unfair that he had to endure all of this, especially knowing his father was abusive too.
“It’s not your fault. You don’t need to apologize,” Sunghoon said, gently pulling your hands off his face. He opted to hold them instead, craving the warmth of your touch against his cold skin. “I miss my mom so much,” he confessed, his sad eyes searching for yours again.
“I’m sure she misses you too. She loves you so much,” you replied, trying to smile. “I’m sure if you ran to her arms, she wouldn’t question it. She’d just take you in, because after all, you are her son.” You squeezed his hands tightly as you spoke, trying to reassure him with your words.
Sunghoon didn’t say anything else and remained quiet, watching you, completely fascinated by your empathetic heart. If he wasn’t sure of what he felt for you before, he certainly was now. Under your caring gaze, Sunghoon tugged gently on your wrist, silently conveying what he wanted. You bit your lip and hid a smile, then got up and settled between his legs, your back against his chest. Your husband quickly wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder, inhaling your sweet perfume.
You let him do as he wished, knowing he craved closure after opening his heart to you. And to be honest, it felt good when he held you like this—his embrace was strong and comfortable. As the moon rose in the night sky, you and Sunghoon kept a familiar silence, enjoying each other’s presence.
The next two weeks pass by smoothly. Sunghoon starts eating dinner at home with you every day, always coming to the kitchen with a bright smile and a hungry stomach. You both talk and laugh about the stories he tells you about the company, and the atmosphere is comfortable and familiar. Usually, after eating, your husband helps you clean up and gather the dishes to load into the dishwasher.
Then, the old routine of hanging out in the living room follows, but ever since that afternoon, you and Sunghoon now spend more time together. He typically sits back against the sofa, opening his arms for you to snuggle against his chest and listen to his heartbeat. He then wraps his arms around you or caresses your soft hair, loving how it always smells clean and fresh.
Your hand is finally healed. Last week, Sunghoon drove you to your appointment, and the doctor removed the stitches, telling you to be careful for a few more days. You were so happy to finally be able to do your usual tasks instead of lying around all day. Today is no different. It’s almost seven pm, and Sunghoon must be close, so you finish the last touches on the meal.
Suddenly, your phone starts ringing, the loud music startling you. You check the caller ID and see Sunoo’s name. You almost forgot you asked him for a favor. You quickly accept his call:
“Hey girl, sorry for calling so late,” he greets from the other side.
“It’s okay…” you respond, noticing how hesitant his voice sounds. “Any news?”
“Yeah, that’s why I called.” Sunoo took a deep breath. “You were right. It was her who was giving him those pills. But they aren’t normal sleeping pills, YN. They’re drugs, actual drugs. My dad followed her for a few days and found out that she has a male friend who works at a pharmacy, and he provides her with drugs. He swaps them for the sleeping pills and gives her the bottles like it’s nothing.” As Sunoo explains, you feel your blood start to boil, your body temperature rising as you finally piece everything together. “We can meet another day so I can show you the evidence and explain it better!”
“Yes, of course!” Then, you hear Sunghoon’s car pull into the driveway. “Thank you, Sunoo. Tell your father he doesn’t owe me anything anymore. Sunghoon’s here, I have to go.” Just as you finish speaking, you hear him punch in the passcode and walk inside. Your fingers quickly end the call, and you try to act naturally. It’s hard to control your feelings when you first see Sunghoon. Today, he looks different—his face is serious, and his lips are pressed into a thin line.
You study him carefully, sensing something is wrong. Sunghoon steps into the kitchen without a word, circles the island, and comes close to you. He wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face in your chest, catching you by surprise. Your hands quickly find their way to his hair, and you caress it as you wait for him to speak.
“Today was so stressful.” He whined with a pout on his lips, his eyes glancing at yours. “I feel so irritated, anytime someone talked to me today I was rude.” He explained, now lifting his head and pulling you flush against him, now your head was in his chest.
You inhale his scent, feeling your nerves begin to calm down. “It’s okay, I’m here with you now,” you say sweetly, looking up at him with doe eyes, making him feel like you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.
You slowly pull away from him to guide him to the dinner table, then go to take care of the food. The jjajangmyeon is ready, and it smells delicious. You carefully place the bowl in front of him, then do the same for yourself. You sit across from him, and while you eat, you steal glances at his face. Your mind drifts to Jiwon, and you bite your lip, trying to contain the rage you feel. How could she do this to him? In addition to abusing him, she made him an addict. Sunghoon notices the way your face hardens and asks:
“You okay? You seem upset.” He asks while slurping his noodles.
“I’m fine, just frustrated, that’s all,” you explain, your eyes completely avoiding his.
“Frustrated? Like sexually, or in general?” Your mouth opens at the question, not expecting such a bold one. He sure has been a bit more comfortable with you lately.
“Sunghoon,” you call sternly, but your face betrays you as a soft red blush spreads across your cheeks.
Sunghoon doesn’t say anything else, just smirking as he keeps eating, clearly enjoying making you embarrassed. This past week, it’s been harder and harder for him to resist you. It feels like the more he gets to know you, the more desire burns inside him, consuming him every single night.
The rest of the meal is silent, except for the slurping of the noodles. When you’re done, you get up and start gathering your dishes for the dishwasher. Today, you’re eager to go to bed, not feeling very social since Jiwon keeps bugging your mind. Sunghoon soon follows behind you, also picking up his dishes and helping you load them correctly into the machine.
You try to avoid him as much as possible, feeling like you can’t be your usual sweet self. After helping you, he brings his work case to the table and takes out his laptop, wanting to work a little while in your presence. But as you try to pass by him at the table, he suddenly gets up from his chair and bumps into you, causing you to stumble onto the table. His expensive work bag is knocked over and falls open, spilling its contents onto the floor.
“I’m sorry, are you okay?” Sunghoon asks, concerned, his hand reaching out for your face, but you pull away.
“Yeah, sorry I made your stuff fall,” you joke, squatting down to begin picking up everything. Sunghoon follows suit, also gathering his things. That’s when he notices the small picture his ex gave him weeks ago. He tries to grab it, but before he can, your small hand picks it up first.
“What’s this?” you murmur more to yourself, inspecting the picture. You soon realize it’s a photo of Sunghoon and his ex-fiancée, his fake smile giving it away. Then, your fingers flip the picture to find a small bag with two pills inside. “Sunghoon…” you call, dangling the picture in your fingers.
“YN, I can explain,” he says, stuttering, already knowing he’s messed up.
“You better start explaining then,” you add nervously, standing up and crossing your arms. Your eyes are heavy as they stare into him.
“She gave me that a few weeks ago… I didn’t mean to take them, ever. Look—” He says, reaching out to grab the damn photograph. “The tape is intact. I didn’t take anything.”
“How did she give you this?” you ask, your voice rising as your blood starts to boil. You close your eyes, trying to calm your racing heart.
“I met her,” Sunghoon confesses, his head hanging as he speaks, too embarrassed to face you. “It was weeks ago, before you cut yourself. She—she was upset because I stopped reaching out to her, and she asked me to meet her.” He explains, now slowly stepping towards you, his hands reaching out for you. “I didn’t want to go—”
“But you went anyway,” you interrupt, your patience running thin. How could he do this to himself? Torture himself like this? As he gets closer, you step back, not wanting him to touch you right now.
“I went because I wanted to say goodbye to her. I never want to see her again. It was my way of saying goodbye,” Sunghoon explains, his eyes wide as he tries to justify himself.
“Sure,” you add, not believing a single word coming out of his mouth. Not wanting to argue further, you turn your back to him and start walking toward your bedroom. But it seems like Sunghoon isn’t done.
“Actually, I don’t know why I’m explaining myself. You don’t have anything to do with me,” he adds, feeling bitter and rejected as you walk away. His words make you stop. You slowly turn around and look at him.
“Oh, so now I don’t mean anything?” you add, feeling more hurt than angry. You knew he was pent up from work, and it was making him say whatever came to his mind. You weren’t exactly upset at him, but he was there at the moment, and you might have poured everything onto him.
“Wait, I didn’t—” Sunghoon starts to speak, running his hand through his hair. “You can’t tell me who I can meet and who I can’t. It doesn’t matter if I have feelings for you or not!” he adds, starting to feel angry again. “We’re not even together. Who do you think you are to tell me what to do?”
As the last words leave his mouth, they pierce through your heart like a blade, and tears begin to well up in your eyes. The sour truth leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You stare at him one last time without saying anything, your hands shaking and your legs feeling wobbly. A single tear falls from your eyes, but you quickly catch it with the back of your hand, feeling stupid for crying because of him.
Without saying another word, you turn your back to him again and walk up the staircase, avoiding him as much as possible. Sunghoon soon realizes what he’s said and sprints behind you, guilt consuming him. He didn’t mean any of those words. He didn’t even know why he said them. Maybe it was the frustration of the busy day or the way you looked at him, as if you were disappointed in him. To his dismay, as soon as he reaches the top of the stairs, you walk into your bedroom and slam the door right in his face.
And so, he stands by your closed door like an idiot, his head low as he debates whether he should knock and apologize or leave you alone.
Taglist: @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay @crimson-reaper576 @rikifever @mrsjjongstby @laurradoesloveu @babyboomysweetie @mintchocos-things @nxzz-skz @saphiranishimurashan @ikeupups @yangjungwonnie @xiiaobaoo @itsuen @laylasbunbunny @mellowgalaxystrawberry @firstclassjaylee @questionsdearreader @greeyjre @en-doll @riqomi @lovingvoidgoatee @mitmit01 @miuwonis @aureliaaaa555 @han-to-my-minho @heeweenie @vixensss @ro-diares @hoonvinx @immelissaaa @jiryunn @quilevyt @vrusha01 @kkamismom12 @skzenhalove @theothernads @moonpri @nicoleparadas @fightqueen @heesunghooney @starl0ver4 @jooniesbears-blog @k1arar3 @liixly-blog @kolawnk @mitmit01 @dummyf @tender-is-the-moon
If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist just comment below!
#enhypen#enhypen sunghoon#enhypen imagines#enhypen x reader#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fluff#enha#enhypen smut#sunghoon#park sunghoon#enhypen angst#sunghoon angst#sunghoon fluff#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon smut#sunghoon scenarios#engene#arranged marriage#enhypen smau#slow burn#chapter 3#your sweet love
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I told you guys! bring in a forklift and it will be easy sailing!
Inspired by an earlier post-and a thankyou for all the love on it
Dogday ported by MG off Sketchfab
background ported/made by TOYWAR off sketchfab
Catnap ported by KPMISparrot off Sketchfab
And forklift by Ricardo sanchez
Apologies if I got anyone's name wrong...
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START PREVIOUS NEXT
Comic on Deviantart Consider my Patreon
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Everyone on the G affair route:

#rambling#chapter 3#edited pronouns and name for the sake of the screenshot lolol#the player giving MC a conscience while knowing full well they're going to throw that out of the window...just evil /j
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MD:MI Ch.3 Pg.19
N begins to enter REM where someone greets him. His mind knows Uzi wouldn't have wanted to see him unalive himself (multiple times). But all he wants is to see Uzi again. Maybe some lucid dreaming could set something up for him.
#murder drones#comic#my immortal#md oc#serial designation n#nuzi#uzi doorman#n x uzi#comic page#md:mi au#dreamscape#chapter 3#page 19
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So, since you have touched the darkness little bell, how did it feel? Was it painful? Peaceful? Did you enjoy it? Did it make you shed a tear? (pun intended ;p) Or did you loop back before you got a chance to feel it? I know some of us are dying to know. ;3
-🐌🚫🐚
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Waves Always Crash /// Page 78
Previous || First || Next
[You can read ahead on Patreon!]
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IM SO SORRY ABOUT BUBBA! I didn’t have enough room
//Bubba, the smartest of the gang, usually a tutor for any child that’s struggling in any academic studies, he’s the calmest and mostly seen with old kids, where some struggle in Algebra or Geometry.//
Anyway, very slight redesign.
Also yes, I’m ignoring everything that happened in chapter 3, cause I’m in denial.

#poppy playtime#chapter 3#smiling critters#dogday#catnap#kickinchicken#hoppy hopscotch#bobby bearhug#craftycorn#the factory and the orphanage are two separate things#the orphans stay#but other kids can come in the orphanage to play#it’s like a theme park#or something#bubba bubbaphant
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New update 10/01/25
Chapter 3 is live on the Weeping Gods public demo!
What's new:
73 000 words added to the demo and the entire Chapter 3 is playable
You can finally meet the last RO, Ahmose, properly
You will also meet the creator of the crystals
You can investigate the theft, succeed or fail, it's up to your choices
You can discover some secrets about the ROs, and see a very different side to some of them
Get a new weapon (to borrow! lol)
Old saves don't work. You have to start new ones. Additionally, if you run into an "achievement not declared" or "non-existent variable" error, save the game, restart, and reload. You should also delete the cogdemos website's cookies from your browser.
This is also a good opportunity to remind everyone to READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS AGAIN. There are new ones in the list that will be present in Chapter 3. If you are sensitive to any of the issues present, stop reading the game.
LINK
Good reading! ❤️
JC
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one of my first human sawyer drawings i think!! i drew this in august of 2024
ALSO FOLLOW UP ON PREVIOUS POST.. i want to properly explain my viewpoint abt 1006. prototype saving theo after he was electrocuted had no personal benefits at the time, the bigger bodies initiative did not exist yet. we know this because harley sawyer was not hired until 1990, while prototype and theo tried to escape in 1989 (which also means the prototype wasn't created by harley sawyer). prototype couldn't have known theo would be of use to him later. we also know theodore/catnap wouldn't have viewed him as a god yet, because the incident had not yet happened. so saving him instead of escaping out of an open door was an act done out of self sacrifice on proto's part!! which is why i believe prototype genuinely cares/cared about the experiments, or at the very least theo. he saved him expecting nothing in return i just feel like him having real motives for his later actions aside from "im evil i do evil stuff" would be a far more nuanced and interesting character 😔i hope the game follows through on that and doesnt just say hes evil with no motive other than to be evil
#illustration#artwork#poppy playtime#poppy playtime fanart#digital art#fanart#catnap#doodle#poppy playtime chapter 3#harley sawyer#the doctor#theodore grambell#the prototype#prototype#experiment 1006#1006#chapter 3#clip studio paint#sketch#drawing#art#artist#artists on tumblr#small artist#digital artwork#digital drawing#my artwork
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