Chan's Dumb Wife

In all truth, the four of you - Felix, Jisung, Seungmin and yourself - had gotten a bit drunk, just hanging out after their dance practice ended. You'd just been waiting for Felix, really, but somehow it ended up being the four of you and a couple of beers. Even Felix indulged in one, which surprised you, as that was usually not his thing. But it was all in good fun.

However, even with the light buzz of the alcohol in your system, the question left you flustered. Even though it wasn't completely out of the blue, as Seungmin and Jisung were just having a discussion about the best sex position, you still hadn't expected the question directed at you.

In one smooth motion, Felix squeezed your thigh where his hand already rested, catching your attention. He gave you a look, you don't have to answer, not wording it out loud as he knew you could make up your mind for yourself. You didn't need his input, but he still let you know he was there.

You eyed the table for a moment, cheeks hot whether from the beer or the question or both, you weren't sure. You and Felix hadn't exactly been intimate yet. Your relationship was still new, and you both agreed you'd take it slow, build up your connection more, even if you were already completely infatuated with each other.

What you hadn't let him know yet was how desperate you were to take that step further. And what you didn't know was how he felt the exact same way, but didn't tell you in case it put unnecessary pressure on you to do something you weren't ready for.

Oh, he had no idea.

You chose not to feel awkward about the question, didn't feel embarrassed about the lack of sex you'd been having. It was a choice and one you were completely fine with. "You'd have to ask Felix."

You decided to give the ball to Felix, to let him decide how much he wanted to tell his band members about your nonexistent sex lives. You took another sip of your beer, glancing over at him.

The corner of his mouth twitched up as he ran his thumb across your inner thigh. You almost spat out your beer at that, tingles spreading all throughout your body. Sometimes you weren't sure he knew what kind of effect he had on you.

Felix put his hands up in defence, his eyes dark under the dim light. "A man... doesn't kiss and tell."

He laughed at the groan Jisung let out, while Seungmin only smiled, taking another sip of his beer in quiet amusement.

Later on, when the dorm was quiet, Jisung having left and Seungmin gone to bed, you were brushing your teeth with Felix after changing into your pyjamas.

You couldn't help but eye him, still a little tipsy from the beers and admiring his features more than usual. From every day that went by, you just seemed to fall more and more in love with him.

When you both got under the covers and Felix kissed you goodnight, expecting to fall asleep, you grabbed his wrist gently to catch his attention. "Lix," you whispered, biting your lip, hesitating.

He raised an eyebrow in the darkness, his features calm and relaxed. He could sense your hesitation and turned his face fully towards you, urging you to continue by making sure you knew you had his attention.

"Yes?"

You pursed your lips, looking into his eyes while your heart raced in your chest. God, why were you even freaking out about this? It was just Felix. But still, you felt vulnerable having to say the words out loud. The couple of beers you had consumed gave you that extra confidence to speak.

"You know, I've been thinking... maybe we should take our relationship a little further..." You bit the inside of your cheek, waiting for his reaction. He looked a little confused. Even though he tried to understand you, he needed you to be a bit more specific. So you let out a small breath, somehow speaking even lower than before. "You know... more than making out."

He stilled a little, you could feel it, and it immediately made you overthink, silly as you were.

"Not because I don't enjoy just making out! I know we said we'd take it slow but... I'm just... really... horny."

He was quiet for a moment before he let out a soft, genuine laugh, leaning in to kiss your forehead affectionately. You had no idea how much your confession had made his heart clench with adoration. He didn't even know how you could say something like that and still be so cute.

He grabbed your hand, pulling you closer to him. "Hmm, are you a little drunk, baby? If so, I'd rather have this talk tomorrow. Not that I'm not listening; I certainly am." He brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Your face warmed at his response. I mean, you were a little tipsy, but this had been something that had been on your mind for a while. But even through your stubbornness you could see his point; it'd be better to bring something like this up when you were completely sober and sure.

You pursed your lips. "Yes, I'm a little tipsy... but this has been something that's been on my mind for a while, seriously! I mean, of course only if you're ready, too. To take things further." You made your voice clearer this time, making sure he understood this was more than just the beer talking.

And he did look a little more thoughtful this time, a small glint flashing in his eyes. Thinking about finally taking things further with you made his own desperation rise up and his cock twitch in his sweatpants. But he remained calm, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone.

"Alright... If you're sure you're ready, then so am I. I just don't want to pressure you," he said honestly, and before you had the chance to speak again, he continued, "But we'll still talk about this tomorrow, okay? Get some rest, angel."

He pulled you to his chest, and you definitely didn't protest. He was nice and warm and, well, the beers were making you quite sleepy. You hummed, sinking into his embrace and slowly drifted off to sleep.

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You woke up to the familiar feeling of a nose nudging against your neck and hair tickling your skin. The faint sound of Felix's soft breathing filled your ears along with the chirping of birds outside. You had the window slightly ajar these days, seeing as it was getting hotter outside. It was a peaceful atmosphere to wake up in.

You felt surprisingly refreshed, but was less surprised by it when you checked the time on your phone and saw that it was already afternoon. You'd slept for so long... but it had felt so good. And it was Felix's day off, so for once it was allowed.

You looked down at him when he moved and realised then that he was already awake, greeting you with a smile on his face, his hair showcasing how well he'd slept. At least half as well as you.

"Good morning, angel," he said, his voice a delicious raspiness that somehow made it even deeper. You'd never not enjoy waking up to that.

You smiled back, forgetting all about your phone and instead nuzzling into his warmth, counting the freckles on his face. "You're the angel here... Why didn't you wake me? It's so late now, and it's your day off!"

You didn't want to spend all day in bed with him when it was his only day off in a while... Though maybe that's what he preferred, seeing as he worked so hard these days.

He stretched out, the action making it hard for you to hold back your cuteness aggression towards him. He rubbed his eyes, rolling over to lay on his back.

"I only just woke up, right before you," he explained, reaching over to cup your hand in his as he checked his phone. He'd probably only just mustered up the energy to do so.

You lay there, just basking in the afternoon light while Felix answered some messages, quietly holding hands. After a while, he put his phone away and focused his attention on you again, resting on his side.

"Do you remember what you told me last night? Before we went to bed," he asked, waiting for you to meet his eyes.

You didn't for a moment, feeling a little sheepish now that it was morning, and you weren't as confident as you had been last night. But he somehow always found a way to make you immune to embarrassment when it came to expressing yourself.

"...Yes."

"Do you still mean it?"

You met his eyes then, still soft, still gentle as they always were. There was nothing in them that told you not to be sure of your answer, and so you were. You were sure of what you wanted.

"Yes, I still mean it."

He nodded, rubbing his chin as if lost in his own thoughts for a moment, "You're sure?"

You let out a small chuckle, your lips curling upwards at his questioning. Oh, you were definitely sure. "Yes, I'm sure, Felix. The only thing stopping me would be if you didn't want to take things further."

He nodded again, still rubbing his chin, before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Gentle, not rushed, not letting you in on what was going on in his head. Just the same sweet Felix as always.

Then he pulled away, meeting your eyes. "Then... can I go down on you?"

He looked almost relieved to utter the words, his eyes big and boba-like, and he was nearly pouting. What you hadn't known all this time was how much he'd been thinking about it; finally eating you out. Sure, having sex with you was on his mind a lot, too, but there was nothing quite as arousing as the thought of finally tasting you. He already knew you'd taste exquisite, no doubt there.

Your mouth formed an 'o', a little taken aback by his question. Or rather, his face when he asked it. He looked so innocent, and he was, in your head, innocent. But then the memory of him beneath you while you were making out with him on his lap flashed before your eyes, the small whimpers and touchy hands despite how much he tried to hold them back. Then him having to use the bathroom ten minutes after you'd decided to stop, because he was still so hard in his pants, but would never vocalise it - wouldn't want to rush you.

Truly, you did not understand how much of a pervert he actually was. Not yet, anyway. He was good at hiding it.

He let you process his question because he knew he was being forward, but he didn't take it back either, didn't rush you to answer. He let it hang in the air for as long as you needed.

You swallowed the lump in your throat that had kept you from speaking, all shy eyes and lip-biting.

"Yeah, that's- I mean, if you want to..."

"But do you want me to?"

You glanced at his lips, thought of his tongue and how it'd feel on your cunt. Fuck, you wanted it. So much. "Yes. Definitely."

Felix smiled, his hand snaking down to your thigh to pull you closer and move himself between your legs. You couldn't see it from this angle, but he was already embarrassingly hard at the thought of eating you out. He'd been thinking of it all morning.

He squeezed your thigh. "Then can I taste you now, baby?"

His voice was deeper, clouded by the arousal he felt already, infecting you as it sent a thrill between your legs, where he was posed up. You nodded, watching him as he shuffled backwards on his knees until he had both of his arms hooked under your knees, face so close to your clothed core already. It was a little intrusive, but you just about held back the urge to hide behind your hands.

His thumbs rubbed over the part of your thighs that wasn't covered by your night shorts. "Say it out loud. I need to hear you say the words. Tell me I can have a taste."

His coaxing, almost pleading words made your core throb with need. Just the way he looked up at you from between your legs had you aching for more.

"Please, Lix. Put your mouth on me," you breathed out, almost unable to fully get the words out.

His smile would've been almost reassuring had it not been for the obvious excitement on his face, his fingers slowly tracing upwards until they reached the hem of your shorts.

Slowly, he slid them down your legs, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time, making sure you felt safe. But once your panties were on display for him, he moved his gaze there, almost moaning at the sight of the soft cotton material.

"God, you're so beautiful. I can't wait to make you feel good, angel. I've been waiting for so long."

His mouth latched onto the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, subconsciously pulling you closer to his mouth where his hands held you in place. Your legs tensed up when his tongue darted out, rolling along your soft skin, followed by the gentle nibble of his teeth, marking you.

Feeling his mouth so close to your core and nibbling on the sensitive skin of your thighs made your cunt sob for more. But it was even worse when his face got close enough that his nose nudged against the fabric of your panties while he pressed kisses to your thighs, until he at last pressed a kiss over your sopping cunt. You let out a small whine, laying your head back against the pillow, because watching him do that was making you lose your mind.

He mouthed at your panties, wetting them more than they already were from your arousal, letting out small moans against you. The vibrations made pleasure bloom where you needed it most, your legs closing together around his head on instinct.

"Lix... mm- feels good," you hummed, trying to keep your voice down. You felt a little embarrassed when you made any noises, already overwhelmed by the feeling of his mouth on you, even if you had been wanting it so badly.

He continued to mouth at you through your panties, his tongue peeking out to tease you through the material, imagining the real deal beneath it. His grip on your thighs tightened only when you were about to squeeze his head completely, gently pulling them apart again.

"Then keep your legs apart, okay? I want to take my time with you," he hummed, meeting your eyes for just a second before putting all of his focus on your cunt again. He looked almost mesmerised, hungry. And when you saw that look in his eyes, you chose to shut up and lay back down. You wanted to see him get carried away, like he seemed to have been wanting for as long as you.

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, peeling them down your legs and exposing you to him fully. He hummed, gently placing your slick underwear beside you on the bed before lying down on his stomach, face lined up with your cunt.

He licked his lips as he took you in, slowly sliding his hands up your thighs before using his fingers to spread your pussy lips apart. You felt shy under his hungry gaze, but you stayed still, wanting to see what he would do.

After looking at you for a long moment, he finally put his mouth on you, his lips softly pressing against your wet cunt, almost like he was making out with you. You hummed, shutting your eyes for a second as you took in the feeling of his soft lips on such a sensitive part of your body.

He moved slowly at first, just kissing you there at his own pace before licking a stripe through your walls. You squealed then, hand reaching down to hold onto something. His hand came up, meeting yours without taking his mouth off of you, gradually gaining a pace with his tongue shoving into your cunt.

You bit your lip to try and silence the sounds that threatened to escape you, squeezing his hand while your hips bucked up for more. He let out a low moan against you, slurping up everything you gave to him, getting lost in the taste of you.

"You taste so good... so sweet..." he mumbled against you, his hair brushing against your thighs as his head bobbed slightly. You whined at his words, only to be broken off by a moan when his free hand reached up and his thumb pressed tight circles over your clit.

You cried out then, not even aware of your whimpers and moans as pleasure overtook you. You were so close to coming, it was embarrassing. It had just been so long since you'd been touched, even by yourself, and all this built-up tension with Felix left you so sensitive and desperate.

"A-ah, Felix..! I'm so close-" You interrupted yourself with a shuddering moan, squeezing his hand tighter as he continued to thrust his tongue into you, and his finger kept moving so flawlessly against your clit.

He groaned at your reaction, grinding his hips against the mattress as he had been doing since he got comfortable there. His cock ached in his sweatpants, leaking pre-cum that would surely stain them. But he didn't care. He needed more of you.

"Cum for me... Please cum... Let me taste it, please baby." His words were muffled against your cunt, but it didn't matter once you finally felt your orgasm wash over you.

You let out a broken whimper, eyes rolling back as your hips twitched against his face. Your hand moved from his to grip his hair tightly instead, tugging lightly at the strands. He kept licking over you, using his mouth to its best ability while he felt your walls gush around his tongue. He sucked up the arousal and cum you gave to him, licked you clean until your legs twitched around his head from overstimulation.

He pulled back, completely out of breath, your slick lining his lips as he looked up at you. You met his eyes almost deliriously, still coming down from the high he just gave you. A smile spread across his face at the sight of you, unable to help himself as he let out a small chuckle. He moved to rest on his knees between your legs again, kissing you with your slick still on his lips.

"I'd ask if you felt good but... given your sounds, I'll assume the answer is yes," he spoke lowly against your lips, teasing you a little. You whined, but didn't really care all that much - not when he'd just made you feel that good.

"Was I that loud?"

He thought it over, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Let's just hope Seungmin isn't home."

Before you could think on that too much, like he knew you would, he lay down on the bed, looking over at you with an almost expectant smile.

"Come here, baby."

You looked at him for a moment, aware of your half-nakedness now that the orgasm had washed away, before scooting over to him. He placed his hands on your hips, settling you over his lap while he got comfortable against the pillows, like he hadn't just eaten you out so obsessively seconds ago.

You could feel how hard he was beneath you, his cock poking up through his sweatpants right against your bare cunt. You whimpered at the feeling, instinctively grinding down against him, to which he stilled your hips with a pained groan. Your brows furrowed slightly.

"No, baby... I just want to focus on you right now. Sit on my face," he practically moaned, hands already trying to manoeuvre your body upwards.

You were almost a little disappointed that you wouldn't be able to feel his cock after waiting for so long, but you decided to let him run the show. After that orgasm, you'd just about give him whatever he wanted.

He could sense your slight disappointment even as you crawled up towards his face, chuckling at your reaction. "Come on. Be patient, hm?"

You nodded despite your heart's desires, moving to straddle his face instead. It felt vulnerable being in this position above him, but you didn't really mind - that was until he started pulling you impossibly closer to his face.

Your hips twitched, unfamiliar with the change of position, how he tried to make you sit down on him fully. "Lix, this is fine. I don't want to, like... crush you."

Your face heated up when he chuckled, his hot breath fanning your cunt, enough to make you squirm. "You won't crush me. Just sit down. Trust me," he urged you, placing a kiss over one of the marks he'd left on your inner thigh.

He held a firm, comfortable grip on your hips, before moving his hands down to your thighs as soon as you found the courage to sit on his face. He wanted to keep you there, in case you lost confidence, too desperate to have you like this to risk you pulling away for even a second.

Your hips stuttered the second his mouth was on you again, already managing to be as wet as before and even more sensitive after coming once already. His tongue started licking you again, rolling against you first and then letting his lips envelop your pussy lips.

You were already moaning again, closing your eyes in pleasure and then taking in the sight of him eating you out from this position. Your fingers found his hair once more, tugging on the blonde strands when the pleasure became too overwhelming.

He kept you there, held still against his face as he got lost in the taste of you. He was sure he was seeing heaven at times, his hips grinding against the air uselessly while his nose nudged against your clit.

Your moans turned into cries of pleasure, unable to help how your hips seemed to chase his mouth, grinding against his face and throwing your head back.

You could hardly understand Felix when he spoke against you again, only focused on how the vibrations of his deep voice affected you, "So good... just like that... ride my face..."

And you did, whether on purpose or not, it didnt matter, because the pleasure had consumed you now. You weren't in control of your own body anymore, chasing the second orgasm that threatened to blow over you.

"G-gonna... gonna cum again- Felix!" you sobbed. The shred of dignity you had left tried to move off of him, but his hands kept you locked in place, mouth moving to suckle on your clit, letting you smother his face.

You almost fell over, riding his face as you came all over it. He caught your cum with his mouth, slurping it up just like before, like he had been parched for weeks.

You were a panting mess above him, eyes shut and head thrown back, still overwhelmed with pleasure even when his mouth pulled back for air.

Truthfully, Felix had been almost suffocated by your thighs and your sopping cunt. But he'd done it to himself. He didn't care about the lack of air as long as he had your cunt on his face. He panted beneath you, gauging your face from where he lay as he caught his breath.

But once he'd gotten enough air, and you still weren't over the orgasm, he went back in. I mean, your warm pussy was still right in his face - so tempting, almost begging for his attention. He just had to.

You practically flinched when his mouth met your cunt again, the only thing holding you steady being his hands that kept you in place. You tugged on his hair, like that would make him stop, but he only moaned against you at the feeling, the vibrations almost making you cry.

"F-Felix..! Felix, s-stop-. I-it's too much!" you choked out, body heaving as your knees gave out beneath you. You lost your balance and had to settle for holding yourself up against the mattress as Felix continued his assault on your cunt.

"Just one more... one more, baby... you can do it..." Again, his words came out muffled against you. But even if his mouth wasn't buried against your cunt, you weren't sure you'd be able to comprehend his words anyway with the waves of pleasure currently crashing down on you.

High-pitched sounds of agony or pleasure or both left your mouth, out of your control, and you weren't even fully aware of it, too far gone. Your hips twitched and thighs ached from the position he had you in, but all you felt was your next orgasm closing in on you, swirling around in the pit of your stomach.

The corners of your eyes stung with tears, barely able to catch your breath as the intensity of your orgasm washed over you. But it was much more intense than before, your body tensing up as you came.

"L-Lix! Lix-! C-coming..!"

Felix groaned beneath you as you came, followed by even more of your juices when you squirted, soaking his face. Just then his own hips thrusted into the air, and at the feeling of your cum hitting his face, he came too, moaning against your cunt before pulling away to catch his breath.

It had been all he needed - he should be embarrassed, really, to have cum in his pants like this. But he wasn't - far from it. He didn't need anything other than being stuck between your thighs like this to get him off.

You hadn't even noticed him coming, gasping for air yourself, unsure of your surroundings as you crashed onto the mattress. Felix released your legs then, looking over at you to check if you were okay. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face as he rolled you onto your back, rubbing your sides affectionately.

Even with his face still dripping with your cum and his sweatpants soiled, he needed to check on you first.

"Hey, baby. Are you good?" he asked softly, watching as you still tried to catch your breath.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you could just about manage a nod and a quick look at his wet face. You groaned. "Did... did I seriously squirt on you?" You would've been more embarrassed if he hadn't just completely wrecked you.

He chuckled, gently brushing your cheek with his thumb. "Yeah, you did. It was amazing."

You groaned again, but he didn't pay it much mind, leaving for the bathroom instead. He came back with two glasses of water and a new pair of sweats for himself, his face dry now. And you were a little more conscious, to say the least.

"Thank you," you said when he handed you the glass, sitting up a little to drink from it. He kissed your cheek in response, taking a sip of his own glass before standing up to change into the sweatpants.

Your eyes widened, having just noticed the dark patch on the crotch part of them, making it obvious what had happened while he was busy pleasuring you. He noticed your staring and felt his face heat up despite himself. "I couldn't help it when you were moaning like that and... well, I think I'm gonna have to make you squirt like that every time. It was too good."

Somehow you were the one with a hot face now, and chose to drink from your glass to spare yourself the embarrassment. Even then, you found it hot how Felix had gotten off to pleasuring you. You surely didn't mind it.

He changed into the new sweatpants with his back turned to you, and you couldn't help but check him out from behind, enjoying the view for the few seconds it was there.

He sat down on the edge of the bed once fully changed, grabbing a wet cloth off the nightstand you hadn't even noticed before. You still felt a little delirious, that much was certain. He carefully spread your legs, wiping down your inner thighs and then your sensitive cunt, making sure you were fully clean. Once done, he set the cloth aside again.

You were both silent for a moment before he spoke up quietly, "It wasn't too much for you at the end, was it? I'm sorry if I got a little carried away..." He cleared his throat, his eyes not meeting yours for a second as he rested a hand on your waist, a silent comfort.

You managed a small smile, placing your hand over his before leaning in to kiss him. He hummed, kissing you back instantly, cupping your cheek. When you pulled back your eyes met his, still glistening from the aftermath of your intimacy.

"It was perfect. A little overwhelming, but I really enjoyed it, Lix. Did you?" You felt like you already had the answer to that but you were just making sure. You had to ask.

"Are you serious? That was the best thing I've ever done." His eyes widened enthusiastically, his hand clasping yours. You both just smiled at each other for a while, giddy about the new step in your relationship.

His phone dinged then, where it lay on the nightstand, and seeing who it was from, he grabbed the phone off the table. A small wince escaped him, scratching the back of his head before showing the text to you.

"Somebody isn't as happy as us, that's for sure..."

You looked at the text from Seungmin, grimacing at the screen;

“you just had to mess with me while i was working,” you roll your eyes but accept when he turns you around to lean you against the empty kitchen counter. “did you accomplish your goal of being one annoyance closer to me murdering you and taking the insurance money to hire movers?”

“no, but i did accomplish my goal of getting your attention,” he leans into your space, pressing you up further into the countertop. “you’re working too hard, baby. take a break.”

“i just need to get one more box done, then-“ the rest of your sentence is muffled by the palm of his hand and you make angry eye contact with him above his wrist. it’s the only thing you can do to retaliate, since he doesn’t get grossed out if you lick his hand and gets weirdly turned on if you bite it.

“box later,” he insists, pulling his hand away to tame a stray lock of your hair down against our head. “lunch now. hungry.”

“and he’s reduced to caveman speech,” you give in easily when you feel the weariness of your muscles sink in. it is easy to ignore when you are busy, but with the languid comfort that comes with his weight pressed against yours it draws your attention.

“would a caveman do this?” he leans in the rest of the way and presses his lips to yours in a slow, gentle kiss, letting his breath out into a sigh against your mouth. he squeezes his hands against your hips and lifts, and your center of gravity shifts as you’re placed on top of the counter.

“that’s exactly what a caveman would do, i think,” you say, breaking the kiss to thunk your head against the cabinet behind you. you can see his brain working to produce a witty comeback by the way his eyes narrow, but he must lose the fight with his own intelligence because he sinks to his knees a moment later without a word.

“i think cavemen like snacks,” he leans his head against your thigh and plays with the waistband of your shorts with his hands, looking up at you through his dark eyelashes. “does my food consent to a little pre-lunch sample?”

“as long as we can let this metaphor go, you can do whatever you want,” you feign nonchalance but your heartbeat is picking up, crescendoing into a racing pace when he manages to wiggle your shorts and underwear off of you.

you would go into the semantics of your bare ass on the kitchen counter being unhygienic, but you’re moving out tomorrow and soon that’ll be someone else’s problem. hopefully the new tenant bleaches everything.

he noses at your folds, unhurried and curious like he’s discovering something for the first time. when his tongue darts out to taste you, you’re almost embarrassed by the whine that leaves your throat without permission. really, you shouldn’t be so effected by such a simple touch, but you both have been too busy with packing the last few weeks to do anything other than unsatisfying quickies in the shower and it’s left you restless.

your breath hitches when he grabs your thighs and pushes your legs further apart. his next lick is harder, more of his tongue reaching out to draw a broad stroke between your hole and your clit. your hips jerk when his teeth graze against your skin and a small gush of slick escapes as you clench around nothing.

“the snack talks back,” he smirks, using two of his fingers to spread the wetness around. he teases at your entrance, and chokes on a gasp when your hands fly to his hair to press his face against your core.

“oh my god, shut up,” you loosen your grip when he gets the message and starts sucking at your clit, meaningfully this time instead of whatever he was doing before while thinking of some weird prehistoric era joke. he dips his fingers into you, crooking his fingers and making shallow thrusts that light up your nerve endings. fuck, this will be over too soon with the way you’re reacting.

you let go of his hair to cover your mouth as you start panting along with the pulsing in your pussy, and he whines into you pitifully. you’re not sure if it’s because he wants you to pull on his hair or because he wants to hear you, but he relaxes when your hand fists back into his curls.

“fuuuuuck, baby,” your hips are moving in minute jerks and you can feel the familiar burning heat spread through your core as your orgasm builds. you twitch one last time as it finally snaps, and your walls pulse desperately around his fingers as he eats you through it. your legs close around his ears as you come, your vision blacking out for a moment in response to his enthusiastic licking and sucking.

you relax your legs and push him away once the pleasure sparks into overstimulation, electricity crackling against a fine line between good and too much. he stays for a few seconds longer, stubborn in his desire to clean you up and hear you whimper, before falling back into his heels.

his face is glistening with your slick, his lips are red and swollen and he looks so satisfied with himself that you’re abruptly annoyed again.

“don’t say it,” you warn, the fear you wanted to instill dulled by the lethargy in your voice. “whatever stupid joke you’re going to say, keep it in your head.”

Your head is spinning with his scent. You truly didn’t expect him to react like this when he saw the bento box. One minute he was hugging you from behind littering your neck with sweet kisses of gratitude and the other you’re bent over the counter with Chan ramming into you from behind, thick enough to press every ridges inside you.

Your knees buckled a long time ago, now, the only thing holding you up was Chan’s hand wrapped tightly around your neck. “Fuck you feel so good. Exactly what I needed to start my day.” Your moans bounced off of the walls filling the room with the sweet symphony of you.

The wet slapping of your skin with his was damn near hypnotic. “Such a good girl making lunch for me this early. I’m gonna do you a favor and fuck you right back to sleep yeah?”

“Chris please” You don’t even know what begging for anymore. Your mind is too foggy to think and your body is numb with that beautiful pressure building deep inside of you. “You gonna cum for me pretty girl?” He knows you’re too far gone to answer but he still asks you anyway. And the way you’re pulsing around him already gave him his answer.

“That’s it beautiful, let go for me” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as pure serenity washes over you. Chan groans in response to you gripping him like a vice and his thrusts begin picking up in pace. “Channie I can’t!” You cry out.

You just sat there in your oversized, faded blue hospital gown, looking small and fragile as your confused gaze met his. The man froze, roughly brushing a strand of pink hair out of his face. His clothes were covered in a layer of grey dust and dried grit, looking as though he had sprinted straight off a construction site the second he got the news.

"Fucking... God. Hey, princess... fuck, don't you ever scare me like that again" he breathed, his deep, gravelly voice cracking as he took two massive strides toward your bedside, staring down at you with a desperation that made the air feel heavy.

You shrank back into the pillows, your brow furrowing. Princess? Were you in some bizarre historical simulation? Did kings and horses still exist? No, the blinking medical monitors around you disproved that immediately.

"Mr. Sukuna, please. I need to speak with you in private for a moment" a woman in her mid forties interrupted, her expression incredibly grave as she stepped between you and the huge man. She glanced at the other people lingering by the door. There was a teenage boy, maybe sixteen, who had the exact same pink hair as the tattooed man, his face streaked with tears. Beside him stood another boy with unruly, spiky black hair and a dull, stoic expression that couldn't quite hide the anxiety in his eyes. At the doctor's quiet command, they all slowly filed out into the hallway.

Left alone for a moment, you stared at the stark white walls, the untouched glass of water on the bedside table, and the crushing, dull monotony of the room.

When the door clicked open again, the female physician returned, holding a thick medical chart. The tattooed man followed closely behind her. He tried to offer you a small, reassuring smile, but it looked incredibly strained on his rugged face. His crimson eyes locked onto you, tracking every breath you took as if you might literally vanish into thin air if he dared to look away for a single second.

"Hello, y/n. I am Dr. Jennifer" the woman said kindly, stepping up to the mattress. "Do you know why you were brought here today?"

You frowned, looking between her and the towering man. "No."

The syllable was short and hollow. Beside the doctor, Sukuna’s entire frame stiffened. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered violently beneath his tattoos, his knuckles turning white as he balled his hands into fists.

"Right. But you do remember your name?" she pressed gently.

"Yes... y/n I am Y/N." you answered firmly. You knew the name belonged to you, even if the history attached to it was completely gone.

"And do you know where you are right now?"

"A hospital?"

"Correct" Dr. Jennifer nodded, opening the document in her hands. "Look, I am going to explain exactly what happened, and I need you to listen very carefully, alright?" You gave a small, hesitant nod. "You were in a severe accident yesterday evening. You were walking home from the local market when a car veered off the road and hit you. It is a miracle you walked away with minor physical injuries, but the trauma to your head has caused a severe case of retrograde amnesia. Honestly, it's a surprise you even remember your name right now."

You let out a quiet hum, your eyes drifting down to your own hands resting on the thin blanket. That was when you noticed it a slender, platinum band set with a brilliant, flawlessly cut diamond resting securely on your left ring finger. It looked incredibly expensive, classy, and entirely foreign

So you were married.

"Y/n" Dr. Jennifer’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You snapped your head up to look at her. "This man standing beside me... he is your husband."

The doctor tilted her head toward the giant. He was massive easily over six feet of raw, intimidating muscle, his tattooed face giving him a terrifying, dangerous aura. Your very first instinctual thought was that this man looked incredibly scary.

Sukuna didn't say a word. He just stood there, letting you analyze him, before he offered you a tiny, incredibly vulnerable nod. You tilted your head, staring into his intense red eyes, desperately searching for a single spark of familiarity. Did I really marry this giant?

"His name is Ryomen Sukuna, and he is going to take care of you" the doctor continued, closing her chart. "For the next few weeks, you need to let your brain rest, but you also need to gently stimulate it to try and regain those lost memories. Spending time in a familiar environment, in your own home with your husband, is going to be the best medicine for you."

You nodded mutely. You didn't exactly have a choice. You were being handed over to a complete stranger who happened to hold a legal claim to your entire life.

"Alright then. I wish you a safe and speedy recovery" Dr. Jennifer said with a final, empathetic smile before slipping out of the room.

The heavy silence that followed was suffocating. Sukuna cleared his throat roughly, taking a few slow, tentative steps toward the edge of your bed. He moved with an immense amount of caution, as if he genuinely believed a sudden movement might break you into pieces. He pulled up the small plastic chair, sinking into it.

"Hey" he said softly. Even in a whisper, his voice was incredibly manly, deep, and rough.

"Hello" you replied shortly, your eyes tracking his hands.

To your surprise, his large, scarred fingers were trembling slightly as he fidgeted with them, refusing to meet your eyes. When he finally looked up, you realized the piercing red of his irises was completely glossy, swimming with unshed tears.

"Yo... you're getting discharged today" he choked out, taking a deep, ragged breath as if the mere act of speaking was causing him physical pain. "I'm going to go sign the paperwork, and then I'm taking you to... our house. I'm going to do whatever the fuck it takes to help you remember, princess."

You stared at his rugged, tattooed face for a long moment before letting out a soft, distant hum.

An hour later, you were sitting in the passenger seat of a sleek, black Jeep, The man Sukuna kept his left hand firmly on the steering wheel while his eyes flicked toward you every sixty seconds, his intense gaze making a nervous flutter erupt in your stomach.

You stared out the window, watching the city buildings, sprawling neighborhoods, and vibrant green trees blur past. Intrigued by the warm breeze, you raised your hand, pressing your palm gently against the glass as if you wanted to touch the passing leaves. Instantly, the window smoothly rolled down. Startled, you turned your head to find Sukuna adjusting the master controls, his eyes locked onto you with an unreadable warmth.

"Can I ask you something-" you murmured softly.

"Yes." The answer came incredibly fast, almost desperate. He was hanging on your every word, practically begging for you to speak to him.

"How... how did we meet?" you asked, leaning your elbow on the door frame as the wind whipped through your hair.

"We met in high school" he answered quickly, navigating a sharp turn onto a quiet, "We've been married for seven years."

"High school?" You tilted your head, a faint smile touching your lips as you extended your hand just slightly out into the rushing air. "Were we friends back then?"

"Careful" he commanded firmly, though there was no real heat in his voice. You obediently pulled your hand back inside. A faint, nostalgic softness crept into his red eyes as he looked ahead. "Friends? no. You could say we didn't liked eachother each other when we first met. You thought I was a loud, arrogant mannerless jerk and I thought you were a stubborn, bossy brat."

He smoothly pulled the Jeep into a long brick driveway, coming to a stop in front of a breathtaking, modern two story house. It was painted a crisp, elegant white with sleek charcoal-grey accents, boasting massive, floor to ceiling windows that caught the afternoon sun.

"This is...our house" Sukuna murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "We've been living here for about four years."

He killed the engine, threw his door open, and practically sprinted around the hood of the car to open your door before you could even reach for the handle. He extended a massive, tattooed hand toward you, his palm open and waiting. You stared at his hand, your eyes traveling up the thick muscles of his forearm, before you deliberately stepped down onto the driveway without taking it.

Sukuna’s hand froze in mid-air. You watched his fingers slowly curl back into a fist before he pulled his arm away, a flash of pure, agonizing heartbreak crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a stoic expression.

As your feet hit the pavement, you looked up at the towering structure, desperately begging your brain to spark even a single ounce of familiarity. Nothing came. But as you turned around, you caught a glimpse of the man standing beside you. He was on the absolute verge of tears. His chest was tight, his jaw locked as he stared at you. You were his entire world, his beautiful wife, and yet you were looking at him like he was a total stranger. He suddenly felt a wave of profound hatred for every single time he had ever been mean or stubborn with you in the past, even in jest. He just wanted his girl back. His sweet innocent girl.

"The house is beautiful" you murmured gently, walking toward the porch.

'The house.' Not our house. The detached wording made Sukuna’s jaw clench painfully.

"Of course it is. I built the damn thing" he muttered, following closely behind you.

It was your exact dream house. Years ago, back when you were just broke college students dating in a cramped apartment, you had traced a clumsy design on a napkin, telling him you wanted a modern white house with endless windows, three bedrooms, and a kitchen large enough for the two of you to bake and slow-dance together while listening to old jazz records. Sukuna had kept that napkin. The moment he made his fortune, he hired a crew but did the vast majority of the heavy structural work with his own two hands. He had gifted you the keys on your third wedding anniversary, and he could still vividly remember the way you had wept tears of joy, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him until you were both breathless. He wanted that smile back. He would give anything just to have you look at him the way you used to.

You stepped inside, ignoring the heavy emotion rolling off him. Sukuna quickly gathered your small hospital bags and followed you into the foyer, shutting the door behind him.

Your eyes immediately gravitated toward the kitchen. It was vast, open, and undeniably stunning, featuring a massive quartz island and a huge sliding glass door that opened directly into a manicured backyard garden. The entire layout felt strangely perfect.

"Let me show you... around" Sukuna offered quietly.

He spent the next half hour guiding you through the corridors of what was supposed to be your life. But as he showed you the grand master bedroompointing out the side of the bed where you used to curl into his chest every single night your face remained entirely blank. You felt a twinge of heavy guilt pooling in your stomach. He showed you the living room, drawing your attention to a collection of large, breathtaking canvas paintings hanging on the walls.

"You painted those" Sukuna noted, a faint trace of pride in his rough voice. "You're a brilliant artist, princess."

You blinked in genuine surprise, looking down at your hands. "I drew these?" You were suprised, you don't even remember touching a brush in your life. But this is your new life. New start.

"Yeah." Sukuna stopped at the edge of the hallway, looking down at you with completely bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept a single second since the hospital called him about your accident. All he wanted to do was wrap his massive arms around your waist, pull you flush against his chest, and bury his face in your hair until the nightmare ended. But he couldn't. "Look... you can sleep in the guest bedroom down the hall, or you can take our bedroom and I'll stay in the guest room. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable you."

"Okay" you hummed softly.

His heart broke a little more at the compliant, distant tone. "I'll go start on some dinner, and then I'll get your medication ready. If you need a single damn thing, you just call out for me, alright? Your clothes are all in the dresser, undergarments in the top drawer, pajamas in the second..."

You nodded, offering him a polite murmur of thanks before retreating into the guest room. You changed into a simple, comfortable t-shirt and sweats. A little while later, his deep voice echoed up the stairs, announcing that dinner was ready. You walked down to the dining room, sitting at the large table like a polite houseguest waiting to be served.

"Do you need help?" Sukuna asked, carefully sliding a steaming bowl of homemade chicken soup and a large spoon toward you. You shook your head, grasping the utensil and taking a quiet sip. He sat across from you, his own bowl entirely untouched as he just stared at your face. "Y/n... you really don't remember a single damn thing about me?"

His voice cracked completely on the last word, the raw vulnerability of a ruthless man exposed right in front of you. You looked up, meeting his glossy red eyes.

"No... I don't. I'm really sorry" you whispered genuinely.

He let out a slow nod, swallowing the lump in his throat as he forced himself to look away. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault."

"Do I... do I have parents? Or friends?" you asked, a sudden curiosity about your own forgotten life bubbling up.

"Yeah. You have parents. Your father—"

"Where are they?" you interrupted quickly, leaning forward. "Do they know I was in an accident? Why aren't they here?"

"They haven't spoken to you in over seven years. Not since the day you married me" Sukuna said, his tone dropping into something cold and bitter.

"Why?"

"Your family is rich as fuck. Extremely strict, arrogant aristocrats" Sukuna explained, his red eyes locking back onto yours. "They completely forbade you from seeing me because I was just a rough, tattooed bastard from the wrong side of the tracks with a criminal record and a unstable future. They told you that if you walked out that door with me, you’d be cut off permanently."

You stared at him, a sudden spark of heat flaring in your chest. "Well, that's so stupid of them. It sounds like a good thing we don't talk to them then."

The sheer, unyielding loyalty in your voice made Sukuna’s lips twitch, a genuine, heartbreaking smile threatening to break through his stoic mask. Even with a wiped memory, his sweet wife still possessed that exact same fiery, protective spirit.

"Yeah" he chuckled hoarsely, letting out a long sigh. "You have an incredible best friend named Shoko. You two are both doctors. you work in the exact same surgical unit at the city hospital. We have a ton of mutual friends we met back in our high school days. And those kids at the hospital? The pink-haired teenager is my nephew, Yuji, and the dark-haired one is Megumi, our friend's kid. They practically worship the ground you walk on, princess. You love those brats to death."

"Can I see them?" you asked, a genuine smile finally breaking across your face.

"Of course. Whenever you want." he promised, his eyes tracking the way your lips curved.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm thirty two. You're thirty" Sukuna answered smoothly.

"Wow. So we're getting old," you teased gently.

Sukuna let out a sudden, rough snort, a wicked glint flashing in his eyes. "Old or not, woman... you're still completely breathtaking."

A deep, violent blush instantly stained your cheeks. You hadn't been around an attractive man or any man, for that matter in your conscious memory, and having this giant, dangerously handsome individual throw such a raw compliment at you made your heart do a chaotic somersault. You quickly looked down at your soup, missing the way his eyes softened at your reaction.

Over the next three weeks, the fragments of a life began to surround you, even if the puzzle pieces wouldn't quite lock into place.

Yuji and Megumi came over to the house constantly. Yuji spent hours enthusiastically teaching you how to make his signature protein shakes and weird jello molds, his loud laughter filling the quiet house, while Megumi sat nearby with his usual serious expression. But the moment you offered Megumi a soft, encouraging smile, his sharp features would instantly melt into something deeply tender. Yet, beneath their smiles, you could see the underlying sadness in their eyes every time you failed to remember a shared inside joke.

When Shoko finally visited, she broke down completely, throwing her arms around your neck and sobbing into your shoulder. It was a bizarre maybe stupid too, overwhelming feeling being fiercely loved by people you couldn't even remember and a heavy weight of guilt began to settle deep in your chest. You even met Toji, Megumi's father, a tall, stoic man who didn't say much but looked at you with a quiet, profound pity that made you realize just how broken your situation truly was.

And then, there was Sukuna.

Your husband spent every single day patiently guiding you through your routines, driving you past your old university, cooking your favorite meals, and trying every gentle trigger possible. But your mind remained a stubborn, locked vault. Sukuna was growing desperate furious and completely fucked up by the stagnation.

To make matters worse, just one week before the accident, you had playfully taken down every single one of your framed marriage photographs to rearrange the living room gallery wall, hiding them away in a "genius spot" that Sukuna had completely forgotten more like you didn't even told him. He had spent hours frantically tearing the house apart while you were out, searching for a single modern photo of the two of you together.

He was completely unraveling. He couldn't sleep. The woman he loved was sleeping in the room next to him, yet she looked at him with the polite, distant eyes of a stranger. He felt like a ghost haunting his own home. One evening, he sat alone in the dark kitchen and wept the third time he had ever cried in his entire life. The first had been tears of pure joy on your wedding day when he saw you walking the aisle. the second had been out of terror when the ER doctor told him a car had struck you. and now, he was crying simply because he missed his wife so damn much

His phone offered no help either. his gallery was filled entirely with candid photos he had taken of you you stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your head, you laughing in a department store dressing room, or a hilarious picture of you biting into a raw lemon and making a completely disgusted face. He had no photos of the two of you together on his device, you had always been the one insisted on keeping the physical, printed albums. The only joint photos he could find were a few faded, wrinkled prints from your high school days, showing a younger, wilder version of himself wrapping his arms around you from behind while you laughed into the camera. When he showed them to you, you just stared at them blankly. It was killing him.

At the end of the third week, Sukuna was sitting heavily on the living room sofa, completely exhausted after another failed search through the house. He was mindlessly scrolling through the candid photos of you on his phone, a faint, melancholy smile touching his lips. His fingers traced your face on the photo, your bright smile. your bubbly laughter at his most unfunniset jokes, now all of that are vanished.

The heavy front door clicked open. Shoko had taken you out for an afternoon of shopping to get you out of the house, and she had just dropped you off at the curb. You stepped into the foyer, balancing several shopping bags in your arms.

Sukuna instantly locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket as he stood up, his red eyes drinking in the sight of you. "Had fun, princess?"

"Yes, I did. And thank you... for letting me use your credit card" you said softly, walking over to the coffee table and gently sliding the black card back toward him.

"You bought dresses?" he asked, pointing toward the bags. Honestly, he didn't give a single fuck about the money. you could have emptied his entire bank account and he would have gladly signed it away just to see you happy.

"I bought a few things..." You cleared your throat nervously, your fingers twisting together. "But... I actually bought something for you, too."

The words hit his chest like a physical blow. Even with her mind completely wiped, your beautiful, kind soul was still looking out for him. "Really?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Can I see it?"

You gave a small nod, walking over to the couch and tentatively sitting down right next to him. The close proximity made his heart start to hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird.

"I don't know if it's really your style, or if you'll even like it..." you mumbled bashfully, reaching into a small velvet pouch and pulling out a heavy, intricately braided silver bracelet studded with raw, brilliant red stones. "The color... it just immediately reminded me of you. Of your eyes."

You gently reached out, grasping his massive, calloused wrist to drape the metal over his skin. Oh God, if you only knew how fast his heart was racing beneath his chest. Your soft, warm fingers lingering against his pulse point was pure, exquisite torture.

"It looks incredible, Y/n. Thank you." he whispered, a genuine, breathtakingly soft smile spreading across his tattooed face as he looked down at the crimson stones.

"Thank you... for being so incredibly patient with me" you said quietly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Sukuna let out a long, ragged sigh, his hand hovering over yours for a fraction of a second before he pulled back. "I will always be patient with you, princess. Always."

You looked directly into his burning red eyes, and for the first time in three weeks, a warm, genuine smile broke across your face. Sukuna felt his breath hitch. he was entirely certain he was about to pass out from the sheer weight of his love for you.

"Can you stay right here for a bit? I need to go jump in the shower real quick. I'll be fast" he muttered hoarsely, his hand instinctively reaching out to gently ruffle your hair a comforting, domestic habit he had carefully maintained. You let out a soft chuckle at the gesture.

The moment his heavy footsteps disappeared up the stairs and the sound of running water echoed through the pipes, you stood up, wandering aimlessly around the quiet main floor. Your feet pulled you toward the small, cozy library nestled just off the living room. The walls were lined with hundreds of books some ancient leather volumes, others modern art textbooks. You pulled one off the shelf, flipping through the pages before sliding it back into place.

As you stepped back, your eyes caught a glimpse of something hidden on the absolute highest shelf, shoved far back into the shadows near the ceiling. It looked like a massive, heavy frame leaning flat against the back wall, obscured by a decorative ceramic vase. Intrigued, you stood on your tiptoes, stretching your arms up as high as they could go, blindly reaching for the top edge of the wooden frame.

Your fingers caught the molding, but as you pulled, the heavy ceramic vase shifted, losing its balance.

Crash!

The vase shattered against the hardwood floor with a deafening, echoing smash. Startled, you let out a sharp cry, stumbling backward as the massive hidden frame came tumbling down from the top shelf, striking the edge of the desk before landing flat on the rug. The backing of the frame split completely open upon impact, and a massive cascade of loose, glossy photographs erupted across the floor hundreds of them, scattering like playing cards across the room.

You gasped, placing a hand over your racing heart as you looked away from the broken pottery, your eyes drifting down to the sea of images covering the floor.

You froze.

Right at your feet lay a massive, professionally printed portrait. In the photograph, you were sitting securely on Sukuna's lap. You were wearing a breathtaking, flowing white lace wedding dress, holding a vibrant bouquet of sunflowers, and laughing so brightly your eyes were crinkled shut. Sukuna was clad in a sharp, tailored black tuxedo, his massive arms wrapped fiercely around your waist from behind, an absolutely massive, unbothered, triumphant grin plastered across his face.

Your breath hitched violently. You stumbled forward, falling to your knees as your hands frantically snatched up another photo from the pile. In this one, you were hoisted high up on Sukuna's broad shoulders at a crowded, flashing outdoor music festival; your mouth was wide open in a breathless scream of laughter, while his large hands were clamped firmly around your thighs to keep you safe, both of your faces painted with pure, unadulterated euphoria.

You grabbed a third photo, and the entire world stopped spinning. It was a quiet, intimate shot taken right in the backyard garden outside. You were sitting cross-legged on the green grass, wearing a simple summer dress with a soft, shy smile, while Sukuna’s heavy head was resting completely in your lap. He was looking up at you with an expression of such pure, unconditional adoration it made your soul ache, while your fingers were woven gently through his soft pink hair.

Pink hair.

The backyard.

The jazz music.

The napkin.

A sudden, violent explosion of memories ripped through the barriers of your mind. It wasn't a trickle; it was a catastrophic, roaring tidal wave. Seven years of laughter, fierce arguments, passionate late-night apologies, the smell of his skin, the exact weight of his body pressing you into the master mattress, the sound of his deep voice whispering "I've got you, princess" into the dark. It all hit your brain at once with the force of a freight train.

The sheer, overwhelming velocity of the memories made the room spin violently. Your vision blurred into a vortex of white light and crimson eyes. You let out a choked gasp, your strength entirely giving out as your body collapsed sideways onto the hardwood floor with a loud, heavy thud, the scattered photographs of your life pooling around your unconscious form.

When you finally opened your eyes again, the harsh glare of the ceiling lights was gone, replaced by the warm, dim ambiance of the living room. You were laying flat on the soft fabric of the sofa.

"She's waking up! Sukuna, look, her eyes are moving!" Yuji’s panicked, loud voice cut through the quiet room.

You blinked heavily, your vision slowly focusing. Megumi was standing right beside his cousin, his dark eyes wide and completely swimming with anxiety. Shoko was hovering over you, a small medical flashlight in her hand, her face pale as she checked your vitals.

But your heart didn't care about any of them. Your eyes frantically scanned the tight circle of people, instantly landing on the massive, tattooed man standing frozen at the foot of the couch. His pastel pink hair was damp from the shower, his chest heaving under a plain black t-shirt, and his face was a mask of pure, absolute terror.

As your eyes met his, a single, heavy tear spilled over your eyelid, tracing a hot path down your cheek. The vast, terrifying void in your mind was completely gone, replaced by the roaring, beautiful fire of your reality.

"Ryo..." you choked out, your voice a broken, breathless sob.

Sukuna froze, his entire frame visibly violently shuddering at the sound of the nickname the private, intimate name only you were ever allowed to call him.

Before anyone else could even blink, you threw yourself forward off the sofa cushions, completely ignoring the dull ache in your muscles. You lunged straight into his space, your arms wrapping fiercely around his massive neck. You buried your face in the crook of his collarbone, gripping the fabric of his shirt with a desperate, white-knuckled intensity as you pressed a hard, crying kiss directly against his tattooed jaw.

"I remember... us" you sobbed violently into his skin, your entire body trembling as the tears flowed freely. "I remember everything, Ryo... I remember you."

Sukuna’s mind completely blanked. For a single, breathless second, he couldn't even process the words. And then, a raw, ragged sound escaped his throat a mixture of a sob and a laugh. His massive, powerful arms came crashing down around your frame, pulling you so close against his chest you could barely breathe, lifting your knees entirely off the floor as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

And there, in the middle of his living room, surrounded by his family and the scattered photographs of your love, Ryomen Sukuna closed his eyes and wept for the fourth time in his life.

"I fucking love you" he whispers

“You’re impossible,” you shake your head.

“Leader duties,” he smiled at you softly.

“You need to take care of yourself, Chan, you’re taking too much stress.” You sighed.

“Well…” he said softly, his voice was rough with exhaustion, “you are here to take care of me.”

Your hands stilled. 

It’s dangerous, the way he says things. Dangerous because he’s warm in ways he doesn’t even realize. This is just who he is — gentle, respectful, attentive and impossibly kind. He treats everyone well, but sometimes it feels different with you. Different because it's the way he texts to make sure you got home safe. In the way he saves you a seat without thinking about it, like of course there’s always supposed to be a place for you beside him. In the way his eyes find yours first whenever he laughs, like your reaction is the one he’s waiting for. 

And maybe none of it means anything, and your heart is selfish enough to want to believe it means more, because he smiles at everyone like that. He always makes everyone feel a little chosen anyway.

But then when the room empties out, the noise fades, and he looks at you with an unbearably tender gaze that feels lingering and far too intimate to be called innocent.

And that’s the cruelest part of all. Not your feelings for him. Not the uncertainty. Not even the fear of rejection. But the quiet, devastating truth that he already belongs to someone else.

Everyone in the SKZ team knows about the relationship. It’s not publicly known, but enough people in the industry whisper about it. A female idol from another group. Beautiful, talented, sweet from what you’ve heard. 

You want to hate her. God, you want to hate her so bad… but you can’t. 

Because she makes him happy, there’s a softness in him whenever he talks about her that makes it painfully obvious how deeply he cares. And maybe that’s what destroys you most of all, that she’s good to him. That she makes him happy in ways you never could. 

They are perfect for each other because they belong in the same industry and live the same K-pop idol life. They go through the same exhausting schedules, the same pressure, the same understanding of what it means to live under constant scrutiny. She understands parts of him you never could. You’re just a girl trying to make it through the month without falling behind on bills. Quietly ordinary in every possible way. While she’s everything dazzling, like truly, she’s the kind of girl loved by millions. The kind of girl cameras adore, the kind of girl songs are written about.

And standing beside her, you’ve never felt smaller.

So instead of being jealous of her, you do the only thing you can. You stand there quietly as SKZ’s makeup artist, smile when you’re supposed to, and let yourself break a little more each day.

******************************************

“Hyung,” Changbin called from across the room, “your girlfriend sent coffee again.”

The entire dressing room erupted into teasing.

Chan laughs, cheeks pink as he accepted the drink carrier from staff. “She said I sounded tired.”

“Whipped,” Hyunjin said immediately.

“Disgustingly whipped,” Seungmin added.

You kept your head down, pretending to organize brushes. You think you’re hiding it well, but Chan noticed the shift in your mood immediately — he always noticed.

“You didn’t have your morning coffee yet,” Chan said suddenly, walking and holding out the cup toward you. “Take mine.”

Your throat tightened. “It’s okay.”

“I can share.”

You finally looked at him, and that was your mistake, because there it is again… that gaze. That quiet, lingering fondness he always carries in his eyes, like looking at you is the most important thing in the world. 

And for one horrible, stupid second, you let yourself imagine this isn’t borrowed affection. That maybe, just maybe, the way he looks at you means something more and it wasn’t just in your head. 

Then his phone lit up.

my girl <3

The screen flashed with a new message.

Miss you already.

And just like that, reality crashed back so hard it nearly stole your breath.

You stepped away before anyone noticed the crack in your expression.

“I need to clean the other station,” you lied.

Chan watched you go.

That was the day you decided you needed to set strict boundaries with him. He was taken and you would never be a homewrecker. If you continued staying close to him, it would only get worse. Your feelings would deepen, settle in places you wouldn’t be able to scrape out later. 

God, you felt pathetic. Like why would you even let yourself think like this in the first place for a taken man. You were the problem.

So, you made a decision, you would avoid him. Not completely, of course. You still had a job to do. You still powdered his face before performances, still fixed his hair between takes, still smiled politely when the camera was around and when it wasn’t. 

But you stopped lingering and letting conversations stretch beyond what was necessary. You stopped replying to his jokes the way you used to, instead you kept your eyes on your work, hands busy, focused elsewhere, like anywhere but him.

And whenever he tried to pull you into ease, into familiarity, you didn’t follow.

You could tell it was getting to him.

The way his smiles didn’t come as easily around you anymore. The way his gaze lingered a second longer, like he was trying to figure out what changed and when he stopped being allowed to reach you the way he used to.

But it had to be this way, because if he knew, if he ever found out what you were really feeling — it wouldn’t just be messy. It would ruin everything. The team, the trust, the easy comfort that had always existed between you.

And worse than all of that… he would look at you differently, maybe with disappointment or even disgust, for daring to feel something like this when he already loved someone else.

So you swallowed it down, all of it, and strictly kept your distance.

It kept going for weeks, until one evening after rehearsal, he cornered you near the backstage hallway while everyone else packed up.

“Did I do something wrong?”

The question caught you off guard.

“What?”

“You’ve been distant lately.”

“I’ve just been busy—”

“You’re lying,” his voice was sharp when he cut you off.

You busy yourself stuffing products into your kit. “Chan—”

“Did someone say something to you?” he asks. “Are you uncomfortable working with us?”

“No! God, no.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?”

Because I’m in love with you.

Because every time you smile at me I forget you’re not mine.

Because hearing your girlfriend call during touch-ups feels like swallowing glass.

Instead, you forced out, “You’re overthinking.”

Chan stared at you for a long moment, then quietly asked, “Am I?”

You couldn’t answer that, not when he’s looking at you like that.

His gaze didn’t move away from you.

“It doesn’t feel like I am,” he said sadly.

“I’m just focused on work,” you said again, quieter this time.

“Right,” he said, after a pause, but it didn't sound like he was convinced. “Just work.”

He studied you for a moment longer, like he’s trying to pull an answer out of you without words.

“Just…” he started, frustration creeping into his voice. “Just tell me what I did wrong.” 

You shook your head immediately. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

But you don’t elaborate further, you just let the heavy and suffocating silence stretch.

Then his phone lit up and her name flashes across the screen.

Neither of you move at first.

His eyes flick down to it, then back to you — like he’s still waiting for the ringtone to stop, like he’s desperately trying to hold this conversation.

You swallowed hard.

“You should answer her,” you said softly. “I should go. I’ll… catch you later.”

Before he can respond, before he can stop you, you turn away quickly and leave, forcing your feet to keep moving, not daring to look back.

Behind you, he exhaled faintly. Chan looked at the screen for a long moment before sighing, his thumb hovered over the call and then he declined it.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket, but he didn't move right away. He was too exhausted and too overwhelmed to move, so he just stood there staring at the ceiling, his eyes stinging as tears built up. 

******************************************

He tried again and then again the next day. And the day after that.

But it was always the same now. You found a reason before the conversation could even begin — work, schedules, something urgent that couldn’t wait. Anything that kept things contained and professional.

At first, he still tried to reach you through the gaps. Small questions and lingering glances. He showed quiet patience that seemed like it could stretch forever.

But slowly, even that faded.

Chan stopped trying to close the distance.

He stopped looking for you the way he used to between takes. He completely stopped waiting near your station after rehearsals and stopped turning casual moments into something more just by the way he stayed a little longer than necessary.

Now, when he spoke to you, it was strictly about work. He spoke in a way that was polite and detached, like there had never been anything softer between you to begin with.

It was what you wanted.

You kept telling yourself that.

That this was better. That you had done the right thing before anything could spiral into something messy and irreversible.

But still, the quiet that followed didn’t feel like relief. It felt more like an absence and you didn’t know what to do with that.

It went on for four days.

Four days of careful distance, professional exchanges and pretending that nothing had shifted, when everything clearly had.

And then the day before the weekend finally arrived. At the end of your shift, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

At least you could rest for a couple of days, and you wouldn’t have to keep pretending tomorrow. At least there would be space to breathe without having to carefully measure every interaction, every glance or every word.

You gathered your things a little quicker than usual, already thinking ahead to the quiet of your room, the comfort of shutting the world out for a while.

As you made your way toward the bus stand, the evening air felt softer than usual. The streets were busy, but not overwhelming. People were heading home, just like you, wrapped up in their own routines, and somehow, in that quiet in-between, your mind drifted again… to him.

You kept recalling the past and how it used to be easier. Chan would sometimes stay back after his schedules ended, casually offering you a ride home as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You used to laugh it off, decline politely, insist you were fine taking the bus. But you never won the argument and he’d always end up driving you home anyway. 

And somewhere along the way, those rides became something more than just a way to get back. Sometimes you’d make spontaneous stops at an ice-cream place, sitting in his car with the engine off, talking for hours about nothing and everything, ending up laughing over the smallest things. You’d make him try flavours his typical indecisive Libra self would never choose on his own, teasing him until he finally gave in, only to decide he actually liked them. And somehow, between shared scoops and easy conversation, it always turned into something warm, light, and effortlessly fun, like the world outside didn’t exist at all. 

Other times, he would buy you hotteok from a small roadside stall, that felt warm in your hands against the night air. He always preferred the ones filled with red bean paste, insisting they tasted better that way, while you argued the cinnamon sugar ones were superior.

Sometimes he would park his car in front of the Han River, the city lights stretching across the water in quiet reflections while everything else slowed down around you. You’d sit side by side, sharing snacks his mom sent him from Australia, unwrapping them carefully like they were something precious. He’d always insist you try first, watching your reaction with that small, expectant dimpled smile of his. And then he’d talk about his childhood back in Australia, the streets he grew up on, the sun that felt different there, the way home used to sound and smell. He spoke about it casually, but there was always a hint of softer nostalgia underneath.

You’d listen without interrupting, occasionally asking questions when his voice trailed off, while the river moved quietly outside the windshield like it had all the time in the world.

And in those moments, it never felt like anything complicated. It was just him and you, and a car full of borrowed stories, shared snacks, and a kind of peace you didn’t realize you’d start holding onto.

It was simple and mundane, easy in a way you didn’t realize you’d start missing until it was gone. Now, the memory sat differently in your chest. He doesn’t do that anymore and it’s your fault.

You swallow hard, pushing the thought down as quickly as it rises.

You ruined a good thing, you recall sadly. You lost a great friendship, all because you couldn’t control your damn feelings. In hindsight, you realized that feeling had always been there, quietly building in the spaces between conversations and shared silence.

Oh if only you had understood your own feelings back then.

By the time you understood you were in love with him, he already started falling for someone else. Or maybe even if you had realized and confessed back then, he would’ve rejected you anyway, because you were no match for him, his feelings for you were always platonic for sure. The thought settles heavily, but you don’t fight it this time, because it feels like the truth you’ve been avoiding. 

The bus arrives with a low hiss of brakes.

You step onto the bus, letting the doors close behind you with a soft mechanical sigh that feels louder than it should. The world outside is cut off in an instant, replaced by the dim, familiar interior of late evening travel.

You move down the aisle and take the seat at the very end of the row, near the window. From here, the city stretches out like a moving painting — streets glowing with gold and white lights, brake lamps bleeding into soft red streaks, buildings dissolving into blurred shapes as the bus pulls forward.

Everything keeps moving.

The hum of the engine fills the space around you, steady and low, vibrating faintly through the seat and into your bones. It should be comforting in its predictability, something to anchor you, something to keep your mind from drifting where it shouldn’t.

But it doesn’t work tonight. You lean your head against the cool glass beside you, letting the slight chill press into your skin. The movement of the bus rocks you gently, almost like it’s trying to lull you into stillness. Your body feels heavy in a way that has nothing to do with physical exhaustion, and everything to do with carrying too much you don’t know where to put.

You slip your headphones on without thinking, more out of habit than intention, and let your playlist begin on its own.

At first, it’s nothing more than background noise. Familiar songs pass through your ears without meaning, soft melodies that don’t ask anything of you, that don’t require attention or emotion. They drift in one side and out the other, barely registering.

And then everything changes when you hear his voice.

Eternity by Bang Chan starts playing.

It hits you so suddenly that your entire body stills, like something inside you has paused without permission. It feels almost unreal at first, like your mind is playing a trick on you, like it shouldn’t be possible for him to exist here — in something so ordinary, so mundane, so far removed from where he actually is.

But he does.

He fills the space inside your headphones completely, as if there is no room for anything else. As if the world outside the bus, the people sitting around you, even your own thoughts, have all been pushed aside just to make space for him.

You remember adding this song. When he talked about his pet dog, Berry, and how much he missed her. A breath caught in your throat before you can stop it, small and unsteady, followed by another that you try to control but fail to steady. Your fingers curl slightly in your lap, pressing into your palms as if grounding yourself physically could stop what’s happening internally.

But it doesn’t.

The lyrics don’t simply play. They settle. They sink in slowly, deliberately, as if they’ve been waiting for you specifically. Each line feels heavier than the last, threading through every carefully built barrier you’ve spent weeks putting up, slipping through the cracks you thought you had sealed tightly enough.

Memories rise without warning, uninvited and sharp at the edges—quiet laughter during late schedules, shared silence that never felt uncomfortable, the easy comfort of sitting beside him without overthinking what it meant. And then, more recently, the distance. The careful politeness. The way everything between you shifted without either of you saying it out loud. 

You turn your face slightly toward the window, pressing your forehead more firmly against the glass. The cold against your skin is sharp enough to ground you for a second, to remind you where you are, to remind you that this is just a bus ride home and nothing more.

Outside, life continues in fragments. People get on, people get off, conversations begin and end without meaning to linger. No one looks long enough to notice anything beyond the surface. No one sees the way your expression tightens, the way something inside you quietly starts to break apart without sound.

You swallow hard, forcing your breathing into something steady, something controlled. But it doesn’t matter how still you sit, how tightly you hold yourself together, or how carefully you try to look away from what you’re feeling.

Because it’s already there and the tear slips anyway. 

God, you just want to go home and sleep.

******************************************

Award show season becomes torture.

You stand backstage adjusting the clasp of Chan’s in-ear monitors when she arrives.

She’s even more breathtaking in person. The kind of beauty cameras never fully capture. And Chan’s entire face lit up when he saw her.

Not polite, it was just pure admiration. Deeply in love kinda gaze. 

“Baby,” he breathed.

Your chest caved in.

She wrapped her arms around his waist carefully, mindful of his outfit. “You look so handsome.”

“And you look so beautiful, baby,” he said quietly, eyes softening as if the world around them had faded out.

“I missed you.” She said cupping his face.

The intimacy of it felt private. You shouldn’t be standing here witnessing this. 

You step back immediately. “I’ll go check the others.”

Neither of them notice you leaving. Like you didn’t even exist and that hurt more than it should.

That night, after the performance, Chan finds you alone on the rooftop of the venue parking structure.

Cold wind whipped past as you stared over the city lights below.

“You disappeared.”

You didn’t turn around. “Needed air.”

A silence settled between you. 

“Did seeing her upset you?”

Your heart stopped. Slowly, you looked at him.

Chan’s expression was unreadable. He looked hesitant.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.”

You laugh weakly. “Chan—”

“You look at me like your heart’s breaking.”

The words shattered something inside you.

You shake your head immediately. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t say things like that.”

His brows pull together. “Why not? Isn’t that the truth?”

“No,” you whispered, finally meeting his eyes, “it’s not.”

The wind felt freezing now. Chan stepped closer, way too close. You stepped back immediately and he held your wrist to stop you.

“Stop running away from me, dammit,” he snapped, though his voice betrayed a slight shake.

“Chan, it’s… let’s not talk about it, please.” You sighed sadly, “my heart can’t handle this conversation.”

“I just…” he started, then stopped, like the sentence didn’t know where to go.

His eyes flicked away from yours. And when he spoke again, it was quieter, carefully stripped of anything that sounded too honest.

“I just don’t like when things feel different between us.”

“I’m sorry. I was just bu—”

“Busy with work,” he cut you off immediately, a faint edge slipping through before he could stop it. “Yeah. You said that.”

He sighed, running a hand down his face. 

“I know,” he said finally, quieter now. “I know you’re busy.”

The silence stretched.

You took a step back. “Chan, just… let it go, okay? This is getting too much.”

At that, something in his expression flickered, he looked pissed at this point.

“I’m not trying to make it ‘too much,’” he said, making air quotes around the word.

You swallowed. “Chan, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then don’t say things like that.”

You frowned slightly. “Like what?”

His jaw tightened.

“Like you can’t handle talking to me,” he said, slower now. “Like I’m something you have to escape from.”

That landed heavier than it should’ve.

“I wasn’t trying to!” you said defensively. “I’m here minding my own business. You’re the one trying to make an issue out of a situation that’s nothing!”

“Oh yeah?” His voice snapped sharper now. “Stop lying.”

“I am not lying! I’m just doing my job. I’m giving you space. That’s all it is.”

His breath came out sharper this time.

“So it is space.”

“It’s not—”

“Then what is it?” he interrupted, frustration finally breaking through the restraint. “Because it feels like I’m being erased from your life one interaction at a time.”

The words stole the air from your lungs. For a second, neither of you moved.

And then his voice dropped, “I’m not okay with this.”

That was all he gave you. Just the raw and unfiltered truth. Your throat tightened.

“Chan…”

“Being not around you is making me lose my mind, can’t you see that?” He said shakily.

You froze slightly. “What… why does it matter?”

His breath came out uneven now, like he hated that he’d said it.

“Because I care about you,” he said, voice breaking at the edges. “I don’t know how to deal with losing you.”

And there it is, the worst part, because you know he does. Chan loves deeply and fiercely. He gives pieces of himself to everyone he treasures. But not the way you ache for him, his one was purely platonic for you.

So you smile sadly and say the only thing that will save you both. 

“I know.” 

His face fell slightly. 

“You should go back to her,” you continue softly. “She’s probably waiting.” 

For a second, something flickers in his expression, it looked like a mix of conflict, guilt, longing. It’s gone almost immediately. 

Chan looked away first. 

“…Yeah.” 

That one word nearly killed you. He hesitates before leaving. Like he wanted to say more. 

But in the end, he walks away. And you let him, because loving him means accepting that sometimes someone can give you tenderness, trust, late-night conversations, lingering looks, just a little bit of their heart, while the rest belongs to somebody else. The one they truly want. 

------------------------

Permanent Taglist 1:

You were awaken from your daydreaming when your heard the door clicking open. Nothing could be heard but the clicking of the shoes all over the hollowed hallways of the mansion, and you recognized that foot steps even a mile away. Your eyes darted towards the wall clock and sughed as you wrapped yourself with a sleeping robe.

"Channie, you got home early."

Your husband has arrived, dressed to match you in a ravishing red suit that skims his chiseled chest and arms. As Chan unfastens his tie, he cracks a wry grin. "Why do you sound like, you hate it that came home early?" He remarked, his head cocked to one side.

He stepped forward, only for him to caused a frown on his face with your retreating back. From his point of view, you seem like to be hiding something from him, but you're just anxious, maybe scared for a little bit. He looked like he would pounce on you anytime from now and that made your heart hammering like crazy on your chest.

"Baby, are you keeping something from me?" He asked. His voice may not sounded so soft right now, but you could still hear the affectionate tone on it, or so you think it is affectionate.

"Sort of..?" You quipped, trying back away again but before you could make a move, he had his arm around your waist. One hand secured on your waist, pulling you closer while the other one is busy loosening the tie on your sleeping robe.

"Hm? I don't remember paying for this." He frowned.

Whenever he is trying to held himself in check, Chan does this thing where his tongue pokes into the inside of his cheek, and his eyes shine with lust. He doesn't know if he's feeling annoyed, aroused, or both. “Fuck, you look so hot in red it's not even funny. Where did you get this? Paid it yourself?”

"It was supposed to be a surprise."

"Indeed, my love, I am surprised." He got quiet for a second, eyes raking all over you, lips licking as it dries. His breath hitching because of how good you look in his eyes right now. "The way that lingerie fits you makes you look even appetizing. Although I think you, without it would be fucking delicious."

Chan is making a tentative first step forward with his legs. You back away, eyes widening, until your back meets the vanity desk on which you keep your makeup and skin care supplies. Chan, though, is not concerned with such trifles.

He squeezed your left boob with his calloused and huge hand, and despite the fabric covering it, you could feel the heat coming from his palm. You let out a strangled noise of delight and shock. He begins kissing your neck, leaving long, trailing kisses up until his lips reaches your jaw. You felt his had  grabs the collar of your lingerie.

"C-chan— wait.. no! Don't rip it." You protested, grabbing him by his wrist, trying to stop his hand. He paused in his mouth movement.

"Why not? I can buy you a hundred more of this."

"Channie please, don't." You pulled at his hair and pleaded. Whenever Chan satisfies your sexual needs, you've always had to exert a great deal of mental and physical energy just to keep from giving in. "I really like this set, but if you don't, I can just easily remove it. Just please don't rip it off."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine, I won't." He scoffed, but he still pulled at your bra cups playfully to see what was inside. As your nipples stiffen from staring, Chan hums to himself with joy.

"Where will you be next week, darling? Our agency will be out of town, cause you know, successful comeback and then celebration of some sort. If I could bring you along, it would be great. The hotel we've booked has a great infinity pool on its rooftop, so we can look forward to our stay there. We could and spend time together, drink ourselves silly, and fuck without regret. If you really wanted to, you could spend the whole day in a store." He asked, his mouth moved from one nipple to another, while his hand trails butterfly touches on your spine.

You gargled the moan back up and shook your head. "No, I don't think I can make the trip with you."

He hummed softly, pulling his head up to look at you. His forehead creasing a bit.

"Were lessons scheduled for that day?"

"N-no— not at all." You exhaled and tried to push Chan's face away when he started playing the elastic band of your underwear by tracing his fingers from your chest to your belly button.

“C-can we just rest for today— I know you are tired from your schedule. We can just sleep if you want.” You tried to dismiss him by puhing him away, but oh his hard and chiscled body is just too strong for you.

“You wore this sinful dress for me, and now you're asking for us to just sleep it up? Aren't you a cute one, sweets?” His voice lacing with frustrations, eyes dilating, not leaving his gaze on your face. On your red lips that he wanted to smeer the lipstick off of.

"You're not the reason I wore it."

You gasped, startled at how he yanks your head back by fisting a fistfull of your hair. You looked into his eyes, which were full of dark, changing expressions you couldn't even begin to comprehend. Whether it was the poison in your voice or the quick closure of your legs, he got the message that he was not welcome between them. He locks eyes with you for a while, then pulls back his hands. "I think there's something the two of us needs to talk about."

Bang Chan has gotten up from looming over you on your vanity table. His face contorts, question all over his face like he doesn't understand something. His hand waving a black card on your face. "It's been three months, darling. In the past three months, you haven't used my credit card even once. So, what adds? Haven't I told you not to hold back and buy whatever you want? Just be a good girl and keep me company; I don't care how much money of my you spent."

A humorless laugh escaped your lips, seething anger bubbles on your chest and you are trying your best not to explode. “That's not part of the deal.”

"Oh yeah? Please enlighten me, Y/N. What was part of our deal?"

You snarled at him and flick the card out of your face, sending it flying across the room. "I'm not here to keep you fucking company, Christopher. I am here, because I am your wife. Believe me, I am very much greatful for your help when it comes to my financials, especially that I am still at college. But hell, I am not your sugar baby.”

Even though he initiated the conversation, Chan appears to be experiencing some sort of headache as he massages both of his temples. "Was it because of that lousy paper I read recently? What was it again? Did you want to fill out an application for a job or what? If you no longer want my support so be it. It won't change anything."

Your fingers balled into a fist. “I am not after your money.”

"Then why are you being so obstinate?!"

"It's because of you! It's because all these years, I am here but for you ut's still about someone else!" Your voice sounded laden with anger and disappointment as you leveled the accusation. "You think I don't overhear you calling out someone's name each time you go to sleep? Or do you think I'm so naïve that I've missed the fact that someone's face is still your phone wallpaper? I feel so dumb, Chan. Am I your wife because you genuinely care about me, or because you just want to move on from your previous relationship?"

Bang Chan's face hides his anger. "She's long gone. She doesn't matter anymore."

"Then why can't you just forget about her? Why is she still someone you think of even though I was the one with you all this time?" Your lips are now quivering. You acted as if you are a modest woman when in fact you wanted to conceal the tears that are about to stream down your cheeks. "Am I.. just some kind of toy for you to fuck with?"

"You know that's not true." His words doesn't sound so convincing and truthful to your ears.

"You won't convince me otherwise. For you, it always been h-mft!" The impact of Chan's lips on your own silenced your rants. When he puts his rough hands on you, he has the sheer strength to shove you up on top of your dressing table. The pricey lipsticks and perfumes you bought with his credit cards have fallen off the table. If you wanted to say something, Bang Chan wouldn't let you. You hear the faint ripping of the stitches in your bra as he drags it up, and that's enough for you to yank away from him. "Chan- s-slow down! You're ruining my lingerie-!"

He hissed at your jaw, all these and all you could worry about is your lingerie being ruined by his hands? That snaps the remaining patience intact inside him. Sometimes you really do know what buttons to push for him to get this mad, and it's not even funny anymore.

"What difference does it make if it is, hm? Yes, I missed her." He growls at you as he cups your jaw and forces you to look at him. "I fucking loved her, and my affections won't vanish in an instant," He says. "But I never ever used you to forget her. You can't blame me for being in love before I met you. You are wrong if you believe for one second that I am trying to replace you for her in any way, shape, or form. You are mistaken because there is no way that you could ever be as good as she is." You could feel the pain curling up on your stomach. Your heart dropping from how painful his words sounded for you. You knew he never really loved you in the first place but hearing it on his own mouth shatters your soul.

"Be my guest, darling. I don't love you." He laughed sardonically. He basks as he stare at your state, fat tears flowing down your cheeks.

It wasn't the first time he'd brought you to tears. Whether Bang Chan was slapping your ass while savagely fucking your behind or saying terrible things on you while pounding at your tight pussy, there was always a time when you wanted to cry. If you're a slut, Bang Chan will always turn you into a blubbering mess. This day, though, is different. Even when his hands pulled your lingerie down your shoulders and his fingers nudged your undies to the side, you felt as though the tears you were shedding at that time would never be justified.

“Right now, I couldn't care less what you think of me. But, when I spoil you, don't pretend like it never made you giggly and excited. In fact, I've spoiled you too much, which is why you're being too one of a fucking brat like now. Whether if it's with my fingers, my cock or my money, I always manage to make a you a moaning mess and give you a good case of orgasm."

You laughed in his face and blew him some aggressive air. "Do you really think I wasn't faking it?”

Bang Chan gives you the evil eye and then suddenly, one swift move and his length was inside you.

"F-fuck!" You gasped, newly painted nails raking on his suit, eyes blown wide, wallas gripping him so tight.

"For the life of me, I can't believe you're faking a moan right now." He mocks at you, watching the way how your head knocks back, eyes rolling up your head, mouth wide open and tongue lolling out. You heaved a small breath as Bang Chan's hands crept up your chest and onto your neck, squeezing your airway.

"Channie- fuck," You read.

His low, animalistic growls can be heard from a long distance. He sucks his entire length out then tucks his hand under your knee for your legs to rest on his shoulders. His cock kissing on the most tender area of your body creates obscene amd lewd noises just from how wet you are.

“Look at you. You really want me.”

You bit your lower lip as you locked your eyes with him, trying your best to suppress any sounds coming out of your mouth. "Y-you want me too." You breathed out.

To which the man only laughed before responding with a mocking, "You sure I'm not faking it?" You sneered and he laughed about the way you clamped down on his dick in triumph. He sighs quietly as his head rests on your chest. Sweat has left his skin damp, sweat drips against his hair, breathes ragged against your flushed skin while he is skimming kisses in between. He is under your spell, but he will never admit it to you. He still has feelings for his ex-wife and has thoughts about her, but he cannot bring himself to admit that he would pick you over anybody else.

Bang Chan doesn't fuck you behind because he's picturing the face of his ex-wife. He doesn't like it going to a rush just so he could ve over with it. He does all of these because he's becoming threatened that each day that he spends a good time with you, laughing, talking, and playing is like a game wherein he needed to start walking on a shattered glass. He misses you every single time and every single detail you did. He fucks you from behind because he was afraid that he would forget the face of his beloved ex-wife if he's gonna stare at you. He's afraid to fall in love with you.

You prattle, "You're a fucking coward, Chan," with your fingers wrapped around his wrist, which is attached to your neck. He huffed a breathed annoyed that you could still be so defiant despite being fucked so silly he could see it on your expressions. His hand briefly let go of your neck, but his hips doesn't stopped his rutting forward until he has lost himself on you as many times as possible. “Sure, I am darling. If that's what you see me at, then I'm a fucking coward.”

When he breathes, there is a pause that betrays the solid façade he's trying to maintain. If only he had stick to his original plan, everything would have been simple. Find someone to make him feel more social and relieve his stress after a long day of work. Fuck a pussy to warm his cock on cold nights.

If he hadn't liked being around you, the solution should have been very obvious. If only he wouldn't long for your witty banter when you're apart, or for your body heat and the affectionate kisses you give him whenever you get the chance, this could been so easy. But unfortunately, the more he tries to pull out of you, the more he found himself being pulled back.

As you whisper and moan his name, it breaks his heart because you make him want to love you back, and that's just impossible for his stubborn self.

"Make some noise for me, yeah? I don't have the lengthy patience to deal with your brattiness, my love. Keep being there for me like that - yeah, holy fuck." Gone. You can no longer see Bang Chan as your eyes flutter shut when he drived you through your orgasm. You gasped so hard, breathing stop and your body shaking from overstimulation. His hand came back to your neck, as he squeezed a breathless moan from you that tips him over his edge, rutting his hips forward one last time before pulling out and spoiling your new lingerie with his cum.

He ignored your complaints about ruining the dress for you cause he always thinks he could always buy you a hundreds of it. But the look of you soaked with his cum would always satisfy his inner turmoil that bubbles inside him.

But today, was the different from everything you two have done with each other so far. Chan immediately backing up as soon as he reached his heights, tucking his still hard on inside his slocks. Wiping his hand with a tissue and picking his phone up from his back pocket. He didn't even glance even once at you after he had what he wanted. His eyes are focused on the screen, fingers typing fast and with precision.

"I arranged a car you can use to take yourself back to your apartment." The very same apartment that he pays for, and you used to live when you two are still just dating. He's telling you go back to your own place.

This should have been for the better right? This should have been what's the best for you since you knew staying with him will always emds you up ruining yourself for him. But now that it is coming from his own mouth, asking you to do it, ut felt like the world you are in is starting to crumple. You love him, way too much tha even though this relationship was toxic, breaking up with him will loose you your breath.

"You're not even going to say goodbye?"

Bang Chan hears every tremble in your voice. He can hear it clearly, as clearly as he can hear his own heart beating. He looks at you falt face— as good as he can do it—, saying, "I have other things to do that you don't need to be engaged with. You don't need my goodbyes." He then looks away, and you swear you saw a flicker of pain flashes his eyes. The face of desperation and pleading that appears just before him because the sheer reason he feels alive is now slowly slipping away out of his grasp. Bang Chan can't bring himself to pay attention to the yelling voices in his thoughts. He ignored all the memories you two have shared together and shuts them off with an image of his ex-wife. That becomes his natural response whenever he felt himself falling. He looks at you like he always does, indifferent and cold, his fingers darting towards the direction of the door.

"The door's open, you are free to leave."

Chan is already regretting inviting Seungmin over.

Not because he doesn’t love Seungmin - Chan loves all of his members so much that the weight of it consumes him sometimes - but because he forgot that Seungmin is a lightweight, so susceptible to the Asian flush that Chan’s almost certain that Seungmin could take a sniff of one of their shitty beers and feel a little tipsy.

Chan invited him over after one of the longest recording sessions they’ve had in a while, telling Seungmin he deserves a chance to relax, to destress. The producing program had fought him the entire time, so he needed to relax, too. He’s pretty sure the program was actually eating the MIDI tracks by the end of their night, which had him two seconds away from tearing his own hair out. It never helped that Seungmin was a perfectionist and needed to record his lines over and over and over until the line didn’t sound like real words to them anymore. The program ate his “perfect” line one too many times, and Chan honestly can’t believe they actually managed to record a line that Seungmin liked that didn’t get eaten by the recording program immediately afterwards.

So maybe, just maybe, Chan had been stressed out enough to have forgotten about Seungmin’s alcohol intolerance. He was already starting to feel the pleasant buzz of alcohol under his skin by the time he realized that Seungmin was getting a little too loopy to only be one and a half beers in. But he had shrugged it off - Seungmin’s kind of strange in the first place - and kept passing him drinks when he finished his. No harm, really, because both of them are tucked into his dorm, and he wouldn’t mind having a sleepover with his dongsaeng. He knows that Seungmin misses the bustle of the old dorm, where all of them were packed in together. Misses the easy warmth that came along with it, how he could curl up next to someone and no one would breathe a word about it. Seungmin’s not good about asking for what he needs, much like Chan, and Chan knows that it was easier to not have to ask at all before.

…plus, Seungmin’s more clingy when he’s a little tipsy. He’s got his legs splayed over Chan’s now on the couch, and he’s playing with the hem of Chan’s hoodie aimlessly, rolling it between his fingers. Chan lets himself be a little greedy, and bask in the comfort of his dongsaeng being so willing to be near him so easily. 

At least, it was comfortable. Until Seungmin stops scrolling on his phone, tugging on Chan’s hoodie with more intention now. 

“Hyung.”

Chan gives him a look, already knowing something was up. “Yes, Seungmin, I would still love you if you’re a worm-”

“Hyung, no! I have a more important question for you.” Seungmin interrupts and oh no.

Seungmin’s got that evil glint in his eye that lets Chan know he’s got a bad idea. Sober Seungmin would never miss a chance to tease him, and a loose-lipped, definitely drunk Seungmin is somehow worse. Chan braces himself for impact, giving him his best deadpan stare through the haze of his own tipsiness. 

“Have you heard of petplay?”

Seungmin says with a grin that already makes Chan feel hot under the collar. Even if he has no idea what it is, that look tells him everything he needs to know.

“No, I hav-”

“It's this sex thing.” 

Chan sighs deeply, shaking his head.

“Why am I not surprised? Go on.” 

After all these years he knows Seungmin. He knows that drunk hangouts often lead to risqué topics just because Seungmin thinks it's funny and somehow got it into his head that Chan was all knowing when it came to sex. At least now he's not expecting Chan to explain it. 

“Pretty self explanatory really. ‘Pet’ and ‘play’. Someone acts like a pet and the other is like… their master.” 

Seungmin chuckles drunkenly and holds up his phone way too close to Chan's face. The older has to grab his wrist to pull it back so he can make any sense of what he's showing him. It's a video. A guy with puppy ears and a tail is on his knees, looking up into the camera. He's seemingly rutting against someone's shoe, tongue poking out from between his lips. Chan thanks whoever's up there that the video is muted. His face is already turning red, heat spreading throughout his stomach. That was….new. 

“Do you regularly watch porn on your phone while we hang out?”

He says as calmly as he can. If this turns into one of those “bro-y” moments where they watch porn together and pretend they're not turned on he'll have to go die in a ditch. This was just his dongsaeng teasing him, nothing more. 

Seungmin rolls his eyes.

“No. Duh. I just remembered our old Redlights performance. You know, where we all were on leashes? Turns out it's a whole fetish.” 

Chan groans and hides his face in his hands. 

“Why would you bring that up… it was so long ago.”

He mumbles into his palms. Seungmin has a shit eating grin on his lips, happy that his topic of conversation is having the desired effect. 

“Hey, Stays loved it. Do you think our stylists would do something like it again?”

He chuckles. 

Chan pulls back his hands to give Seungmin a deadpan glare.

“If you bring it up I'll place a JYP standee in your room while you sleep. No.”

Seungmin just laughs drunkenly, way too happy with himself. Chan can't lose to him. 

“Aren't you a little too into this? The puppy branding got into your head, huh?” 

He teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Puppy Seungmin is so horny he can't help but watch porn with his hyung in the room~”

Chan hums, tone sickly sweet. He feels Seungmin’s thighs twitch where they lay in his lap, eyebrows furrowed in mock irritation. Seungmin definitely didn't like that. Not at all. 

“N-no!” Seungmin yelps, “Yah, you’re as bad as Minho-hyung! I’m not a puppy. If anything, you’re the wolf in heat! Always flashing your tits for Stays like a dog begging for praise. Channie wants a treat, huh?”

Chan flusters, suddenly very glad that Seungmin’s ranting more to the ceiling than to him. He hopes the red on his face can be excused by alcohol if Seungmin looks over. Not because he’s into that kind of thing, or anything. But it’s a little embarrassing to be having this kind of conversation with his dongsaeng, especially one who loves to drag a bit out until it’s long dead.

Yeah, that’s why Chan’s mind is racing. He’s only imagining himself as the boy in the video because Seungmin is making him, talking about all this “wolf in heat” stuff. He needs to put a stop to this before Seungmin gets carried away.

“You’re quiet because I’m right!” Seungmin says proudly, pointing an accusatory finger “at” Chan (or at the space next to Chan’s head - the world’s a little blurry right now).

“Seungmin, seriously-”

“Channie likes being a good boy.”

It’s as if lightning strikes his body. Chan squeaks, an unbecoming sound, whole body jolting, almost knocking Seungmin’s legs off of his. If Seungmin thought he was some all-knowing sex god before, he’s just reduced himself back to blushing virgin. He’s pretty sure his cheeks are on fire, and he’s not drunk enough to play that kind of red off. He can feel it burning like magma under his skin, going down, down, down until he’s certain that it’s painted his neck a blotchy red, too.

Seungmin, bless him, is still giggling away, eyes wide and mouth curled into that evil little smile of his. Chan can’t look at him, can’t perceive him, not when his mind is still reeling from how easily Seungmin made this about him.

“Kim Seungmin-”

“Don’t full name me, puppy boy~” Seungmin sings, delighted with himself, “I’m the hyung now! Puppy shouldn’t be so mean to his-hic! His…his…uhhhh…I forgot what I was sayin’, hyung.”

Seungmin sends him a sheepish, dazed grin, and Chan is so, so glad that Seungmin is drunk right now. Hopefully drunk enough to have forgotten this entire conversation by the morning, fingers crossed. Which makes him feel less bad when he opens his mouth to dig right back into Seungmin, because Chan’s lips are a little loose too, and he can’t be the only one who’s feeling humiliated in the room.

“Oh c’mon Seungmo, we both know who the real puppy is,” Chan coos, bringing a hand down to pinch at Seungmin’s cheek lovingly, “You’re the one who showed hyung the video, you know. Bet that’s why you like when we manhandle you a bit, too. Just a silly dog who needs to be put in his place.”

Seungmin opens and closes his mouth as he tries to find the words through his drunken daze. That definitely didn’t affect him in any way. He didn’t twitch in his pants and he didn’t shiver. Chan was being a total bully and Seungmin doesn’t like being bullied because why would anyone? The younger man swallows dryly, turning his face away from him. 

Chan chuckles mischievously, happy to have the upper hand so easily, and grabs Seungmin's chin, shaking his head side to side. 

“Poor mutt can’t think? Awh…” 

He pouts mockingly, but he can’t hide the affection in his eyes. He’s just so cute, especially when he’s drunk and flustered. Seungmin's hands feel clammy as they push Chans away with a huff. His head spins from the shaking, everything looking more and more blurry by the second. 

“You’re a- a dickhead. It’s uhhh… hyungs fault. Changbin- Changbin hyung is just funny to piss off.” 

He says oh so very convincingly. Chan just giggles, reaching up to pet his hair. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night man.”

Seungmin can’t help but pout, turning his face away to hide his painfully obvious flush. 

“Changbin hyung is definitely into it though. He gets like, excited when I say stuff?”

He mumbles in an attempt to change the topic. Chan snorts in laughter, nodding. 

“Do you still have that bruise from a few days ago?”

Seungmin groans and shows off the branding that’s still apparent on his wrist in the clear shape of the rapper's handprint. 

“He’s the biggest freak. I think he only works out so he can throw people around.” 

He huffs.

“Oh absolutely.”

And they keep talking the night away until they fall asleep, both drunken heaps on the floor. Neither of them bring up the petplay thing after that, but they both think about it. What it would be like. What it would feel like. If their partners would indulge them. Purely out of fascination of course, definitely not for any other reasons…

Links to Seungmin | Bang Chan

His words are dripping with venom, a rush of murmurs echoing off the stone walls.

“Is he insane?”

“Does he wish to die by the wrath of the king?”

“He will tear that man limb from limb for even looking at her that way.”

With a simple raise of her hand, the court is silenced.

She would not lie and say that the whispers did not make the corner of lips turn up.

“I wish to speak to the true ruler of Taragathüne.”

Her brow quirked as she leaned back against the throne, “The king is out of commission. I have been granted full authority to do with you what I wish and how I wish.”

The man’s demeanor cracked slightly at the information, the chains of his shackles rattling as he balled his hands into fists.

“You are not like us,” he seethed, “You have no place to rule.”

The queen stood, the fur of her cape falling down her shoulders as she descended the stairs.

Her face was unreadable as she approached the man that was being held to his knees by two of her husband’s most trusted.

Minho’s eyes are like knives, resisting the urge to tear the traitor to shreds himself. Changbin on the other hand fixes you with an amused, yet knowing look.

He knows you can get a bit theatrical, finding your sentencing to be more entertaining than your husband’s.

With a strong grip you seize the man’s jaw in your grasp, “Do you see this cloak?”

Hatred is still etched into the man’s features but his eyes flicker to the fur coat out of curiosity.

“The king tore his own coat from his body and each time his body healed, he did it again and again until there was enough to make this for me. You are right, I am not one of you after all. But you know what it means to give one his own coat.”

The man gulped at the grousome imagery.

“Now,” she began as she rose, “If he could do that to himself out of love and devotion…imagine what he will do to you?”

The prisoner was beginning to crack, eyes still hard and unyielding, but brimming with tears of fear.

“You are not the first to try and kill me,” she stated with a sinister smile.

“And you will not be the last.”

Her eyes flicker to Changbin, “You wish for the King to deal with you?”

Changbin moves from the prisoner’s side, making his way to the double doors behind the throne.

“Then so be it.”

The man opens his mouth but is silenced by a sinister growl.

She cannot help but to take pleasure in the way the man squirms.

The queen’s eyes flicker over her shoulder, as a shadow moves into her peripheral.

Her husband, fully consumed by his wolf form, prowls towards them. She turns, ascending the stone stairs as she makes her way back towards the throne. Not before running a hand through the midnight tufts of her husband’s fur.

The man shakes as the beast inches closer and closer to him. Those left in the throne room take a step back, some watching in horror of what is to come and some shielding their eyes from already knowing.

“You wanted to deal with the king instead of me, yes,” she questions the trembling man.

But his eyes do not move from her husband.

“Then so be it.”

What follows is silence and then a scream as the sounds of death fill the hall.

—

Back in their shared chambers, the facade drops. The power rushes from her and Y/n is tired. She knew there would be conflict, threats on her life, and she knew the moment anyone spoke a word against her that they had signed a death warrant.

It was easy to pretend, but it was not easy to carry the heaviness sometimes.

A creak of the wooden door pulls her from her thoughts.

Taps of claws could be heard against the wood floor as her husband approached their bed. The scent of sandalwood and oak filled the air as he came into view.

“Who had the displeasure of cleaning you this time? Felix or Jeongin?”

The wolf gave her an unamused look, a huff leaving him as he walked behind the privacy screen next to their bed. She watched as his shadow morphed, the chiseled outline of her husband making an appearance.

“It was actually Seungmin. He was not very happy that his new tunic is now stained with the blood of a traitor,” he huffed out a laugh.

The retort died on her lips as her husband emerged shortly after, eyes falling to his bare chest. The long, onyx strands of his hair still damp with moisture, began to curl with the heat in their room.

He smiled, so soft, eyes filled with so much tenderness before pulling his tunic over his head. The discontent must have shown on her face because he laughed, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“I can take it off again if you wish my love.”

Y/n turned her gaze from him, crimson coloring the tops of her cheeks. Her husband cooed, pressing his warm lips against her heated skin.

“Where did the ruthless queen from earlier go? She would have taken what she wanted by now,” he growls playfully—nipping at her ear.

Despite the years of marriage, Chan still managed to fluster her.

“Maybe another night,” she smiles softly.

“I am exhausted. I wish only to be held.”

Chan’s features soften at the request, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, “Your wish is my command.”

The two lie together. Shadows of flames dancing on walls, as Chan holds her close to him. Her tongue confesses the heaviness in her heart and Chan listens intensely, speaking only when she is finished.

And then, she feels lighter than she had all evening.

She just needed him; her husband, her mate, her king.

“There is nothing I would not do for you,” his words are soft, so full of love that it makes her heart ache.

“And I for you,” she whispers back to him in the dark of night.

Their lips meet in a slow, lingering kiss. Her fingers twirling the ends of his hair as his strong arms hold her impossibly close.

And as they are lulled into slumber, she dreams of him there too. All consumed by the love and loyalty she carries so deeply in her heart for him and their life as one.

---------------

Permanent Taglist 1:

You find yourself driving to a cabin you've booked for yourself to get away from the city for the weekend. The cabin is situated at the top of a hill in a small town, but as you drive up, you encounter weird people along the way.

When you reach the halfway mark, you enter a small, desolate-looking town.

The worn sign reads "WELCOME TO SILENT HILL," but you feel anything but welcome.

A thick fog starts to settle in as sunset approaches, strangely quickly. Desperate to get through this eerie town and to the comfort of your luxury cabin, you pull over to the side of the road.

The fog thickens, making it increasingly hard to drive. You have no choice but to walk to the small building, which quickly disappears into the setting sun.

You walk for what seems like almost an hour before you can make out the middle of the town. Gripping your phone, the directions point you to the only building lit in the parade of shops.

As you grow closer, the red neon "BAR" sign comes into view, almost too colourful in this bleak setting. You contemplate for a second whether this is the safest option, but realise it's your only alternative, other than hiking a mile back down the hill and sleeping in your car. You've come this far.

Pushing open the old wooden door, which is damp to the touch, you walk in. It's nearly empty, with a few people scattered around, but none of them sitting together.

You approach the bar and ring the small bell. A man emerges from the back, and he is surprisingly hot and young. His dark eyes narrow as he scans you, his stare predator-like. Something dark washes across his eyes before he cracks into a warm smile.

"Hey, I've never seen you before. You must be new to visiting Silent Hill?" he asks, his voice smooth and deep.

You hesitate before answering, "Uh, no, I'm just passing through. I'm going to a cabin near Toluca Lake for the weekend. My friends are waiting for me there. It's a girls' weekend."

He smirks, "Ah, I see. So, what brings you to stop here?"

"The fog," you reply, gesturing outside. "It's so bad I couldn't see a thing. It's too dangerous to drive. I'm just gonna wait here until it clears and head on."

He seems to smirk when you call the conditions dangerous, which you find odd.

"Well, seeing as you're here now, can I get you something to drink?" he asks, leaning forward to brace himself on the other side of the bar, gesturing towards you, but then catching on that he was asking your name.

"Oh... right, yeah. I'm Y/N. I'll take a Jack and Coke with ice, please," you reply.

"Pretty name for a pretty lady. Nice drink choice. I'm Chan, by the way," he says, turning away to make your drink. Your face burns at his words. You study the back of him, the way his black long sleeve clings to his arms and back. Chan is attractive, yes, but that isn't going to distract you from getting the hell out of this creepy town.

As hot as he is, you have a gut feeling that something isn't right about Silent Hill and its inhabitants. From the six you can currently see in proximity to you, they all seem off. Something isn't right.

Chan turns around, sliding a tumbler of dark brown liquid towards you. You take it, thanking him, and lifting it to your lips to take a sip. It's strong, for sure. You force yourself to remain straight-faced as you swallow. You look up to see Chan staring at you intently as you sip your drink. The bitter, fizzy liquid burns. Chan tilts his head, smiles, and moves away to dry some glasses. You tuck yourself into a booth by the window, hoping the fog clears soon.

A few hours pass. The sun has set, and the fog has gotten bearable. You begin to leave, but Chan stops you, a hand on your forearm.

"Hey, Y/N, leaving so soon?" he asks.

"Yeah, the fog's almost clear now. Thank you for the drink... oh shit, I'm so sorry. I almost forgot," you say, digging into your bag for some cash. But Chan just shakes his head.

"No, no, not that. It's on the house. I mean, you shouldn't go out there alone at this time. It's not safe," he says, his voice taking on a darker tone.

You pull back from his hold, and his eyes soften immediately.

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm a big girl, Chan. I think I'll be okay," you insist, turning to leave. But he pulls you closer, his lips almost to your ear.

"I said it's not safe, Y/N," he repeats, looking into your eyes with that same intense stare from earlier. You pull back out of his hold, and he immediately softens.

"I'm sorry. We have a room upstairs you can stay until morning if you would like," he offers.

You are apprehensive, but after Chan insists, you agree to stay the night. When the bar closes, Chan shows you to the room, stating he is just next door. You settle in for the night.

At 3 AM, you are awakened by the sounds of metal scraping.

You peek out the window to see a large figure of a shirtless man with a pyramid-looking helmet dragging a large sword/butcher knife along the floor.

He is dragging a lady by her foot. She is dressed like an old-timey nurse with bandages covering her face. You want to run to Chan, so you creep across the floor and call for him, but he doesn't answer. You open the door to find it empty.

You run down the hall to the front door, and when you swing it open, there stands the man from the street. Chest heaving, a sheen of sweat across his chiselled pecs, his mask is terrifying up close, with large points and jagged bits of metal sticking out on all three sides. He says nothing as you stand there in shock, his gloved hand reaches out to wrap a strand of your hair around his thick fingers. You stand there immobilised with fear as this monster plays with your hair with unsettling gentleness, as your wide eyes bore into his mask. Your instincts kick back in, and you duck away under his arm.

You try to run away, but your efforts are futile. The Pyramid Head is too swift, too strong. He captures you with ease, his massive gloved hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you back towards him. You struggle, kicking and screaming, but it's no use. He hauls you over his shoulder, his other hand gripping your thighs, holding you in place. You can feel the cold metal of his helmet pressing against your back, the rough material of his armour digging into your skin.

He carries you through the desolate streets of Silent Hill, the fog thick and heavy around you. You can hear the distant echoes of your own screams, the sound of your heart pounding in your chest. You try to fight, to twist and turn, but his grip is like a vice, unyielding and unbreakable.

“Listen here, you triangle-headed fuck, put me down right now,” you scream in frustration, punching him in the back. It does nothing to phase him, but your words elicit a deep grumble from his chest.

One of his hands moves away from your legs and dips under his mask. You hear a rustle of fabric before a large, warm palm slaps hard down on your ass cheek. “Ow—you motherfucker,” you screech, and you hear what sounds like a chuckle come from under the mask.

He takes you to an abandoned barn on the outskirts of town, the wood rotting and the roof caved in. The door creaks open ominously as he kicks it in, revealing the dark and dusty interior. In the centre of the room is a metal table, cold and stark against the decaying surroundings. He throws you onto it, your body bouncing off the hard surface. You try to scramble away, but he is on you in an instant, his hands pinning you down.

"You're not going anywhere, pretty girl," he growls, his voice a low rumble. "You're mine now." His voice is deep, rough, and distorted but familiar. It makes your stomach twist.

He grabs your wrists, securing them to the table with thick leather restraints. You pull and tug, but they are too tight, too secure. He does the same with your ankles, spreading your legs wide, exposing your most intimate places to his gaze.

You beg, your voice shaking with fear and desperation. "Please, don't do this. Please, let me go."

But he says nothing, regarding you with a cold and detached interest. He runs his gloved hands up your bare legs, his touch sending shivers of revulsion down your spine. You try to squirm away, but the restraints hold you firmly in place.

His hands slide up to your hips, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants. He pulls them down, along with your underwear, exposing your pussy to the cool air of the barn. You try to close your legs, but the restraints prevent you from moving. He runs his fingers through your pubic hair, his touch rough and demanding.

"So soft, pretty girl," he growls under the mask. "So delicate."

You whimper, your body trembling as he continues to explore you, his fingers brushing against your clit, sending unwanted waves of pleasure through your body. You try to fight it, to push it away, but it's no use. Your body betrays you, your hips bucking off the table as he teases and torments you.

His fingers slide inside you, stretching and filling you. You moan, your head thrashing from side to side as he fucks you with his fingers, his thumb circling your clit. You can feel the pressure building inside you, the heat spreading through your body. You try to fight it, to hold it back, but it's too strong, too overwhelming.

"You're going to cum for me," he growls. "You're going to cum all over my fingers."

And with that, you do. Your body convulses, your back arching off the table as waves of pleasure crash through you. You scream, your voice echoing through the barn as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, drawing out your orgasm.

But he is not done with you yet. He releases your wrists and ankles, flipping you over onto your stomach. You try to crawl away, but he grabs you by the hips. "Where do you think you're going, princess?" the monster mocks, pulling you back towards him.

He slams into you, his cock thick and hard. You scream, your hands fisting in the metal table as he fucks you, his hips slamming against your ass.

He grabs your hair, pulling your head back, forcing you to look up at him, but all you meet is cold metal. "You feel so good, pretty girl," he growls. "So tight, so wet."

You try to fight him, to push him away, but it's no use. He is too strong, too powerful. You can feel another orgasm building inside you, the heat spreading through your body. You try to hold it back, to fight it, but it's too strong, too overwhelming.

He reaches around, his fingers finding your clit, teasing and tormenting you. And with a scream, you cum again, your body convulsing around his cock. He groans, his hips slamming against your ass as he chases his own release.

Just as you come down from your high, he pulls out of you, his cock glistening with your juices. He reaches up, his fingers tracing the edge of his mask. And then, with a slow and deliberate motion, he lifts it off, revealing the face of Chan from the bar.

You stare at him, shock and horror written all over your face. "Chan?" you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He smiles, a cold and cruel smile. "Don't you know, pretty girl," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "People change once the sun goes down in Silent Hill."

He reaches down, his fingers brushing against your pussy, still wet and swollen from his touch. He plays with you, his fingers sliding in and out, making you moan and whimper. "We're all monsters here, sweetheart," his voice was undistorted with a mocking tone to it.

And then, with a sudden and violent motion, he thrusts into you again. You scream, your body convulsing around him as he fucks you like you owed him it, his hips slamming against your ass.

He grabs your hair, pulling your head foward, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes are wild, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You're mine now, pretty girl. I'll make you a monster just like me, and you'll love every second," he growls. "You belong to me, to Silent Hill."

And with that, he comes, his cock pulsing inside you, filling you with his seed. You can feel it, hot and wet, spilling out of you, dripping down your thighs. He pulls out of you, his cock glistening. He admires you, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every inch of you.

"You'll make such a pretty nurse, baby," he says, his voice soft and gentle. "Maybe my favourite one yet."

And with that, darkness claims you, and you black out, your body spent and exhausted.

DISCLAIMER - We do not own the rights to Stray Kids, they are used as inspiration for fiction and the actions in the fic do not represent the idols in real life.