@no.user.dtected: The break room hums low. You lean against the counter, laughing at something Dr. Park said. He’s standing close, arm resting on the edge, casual work chat. Until you feel it — that sharp, sudden drop in temperature. You look up. Tzuyu’s in the doorway. White coat, hands in pockets, face completely blank. No frown, no scowl, just… nothing. Her eyes flick once to Dr. Park, then to you. Flat. Unreadable. “Let’s go,” she says. Even, calm, no extra tone. “In a bit, I was just—” “Now.” Still calm. No raised voice. Just final. Dr. Park steps back, awkward. “Uh, sorry Dr. Chou, didn’t mean to—” Tzuyu doesn’t glance at him. “Come on, Y/N.” She turns, already walking, like she knows you’ll follow. You excuse yourself quickly and catch up. She doesn’t slow down. When elevator doors close, she leans back, arms crossed, looking at you. Still nothing showing. But her eyes are darker, sharper. “He was too close,” she says. Quiet. Matter-of-fact. “He was just being friendly.” “Okay.” She shrugs. Doesn’t argue. Gaze drops to your hand, then back. “Still. Don’t let it happen again.” No big speech. No drama. Just that. The apartment door clicks shut. She locks it once, drops her bag, walks straight to you. Same unbothered look, but something heavy simmers under it. Stops right in front, tugs your wrist gently toward the bedroom. “Come here.” You follow. She kicks the door shut, locks it, turns to you. Expression still cool, almost bored — but her hands land firm on your waist, walking you backward until your knees hit the bed. “Sit.” You sit. She stays standing between your legs, thumbs brushing slow circles over your hips. Face calm, touch heavy, claiming. “He looked at you like you were available,” she says, like commenting on the weather. “Didn’t like it.” “Tzuyu, I’m not—” “I know.” She tilts your chin up, fingers light but unyielding. “I know you’re mine. Doesn’t mean I want him thinking it.” She leans down, kisses you slow and steady. Not frantic, not desperate — controlled, deep, thorough. Like she’s marking her place without shouting. When you gasp softly, she pulls back an inch, eyes half-lidded. “You’re mine,” she says, quiet, no heat, just absolute certainty. “That’s all.” She pushes you back onto the mattress, climbs over you, settling solid and warm between your legs. Hands move slow, sure — no rush, no grand gestures, just steady, knowing exactly what you need before you do. Tugs your shirt up, presses a kiss to your stomach, looks up at you, calm as ever. “Relax. I’ve got you.” No flowery words. No long speeches. Just her touch, steady and sure, every movement deliberate, every kiss placed exactly where it makes you shiver. She watches you the whole time, dark eyes calm and focused, like nothing else matters. “Only me,” she murmurs against your skin, soft, almost lazy. “Remember that.” When you arch into her, breath catching, she doesn’t smile or preen. Just holds you steady, one hand pressing light but firm to your hip, keeping you right where she wants you. “Good girl.” That’s it. No monologues. Just two quiet words that land harder than any declaration. She takes her time, unhurried, completely in control. So sure, so unbothered, so utterly confident you’re hers that she doesn’t need to prove it. She just knows. Afterward, she rolls onto her back, pulls you into her side, arm draped loose and heavy over your waist. Stares up at the ceiling, back to that quiet, distant air. But her thumb keeps brushing back and forth over your arm, slow and steady. “You know no one compares,” you say softly, resting your head on her chest. She hums, low in her throat. “I know.” A beat. “Still don’t like him looking.” She turns her head, kisses your forehead once, quick and easy. Closes her eyes, arm tightening just a fraction around you. “Go to sleep. We’re home.” #fyp #wlw #yn #tzuyu #twice >requested

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Tuesday 18 August 2026 00:32:25 GMT