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strxwbloody · 12 days ago

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Make Me Lose Control — Part 1

SUMMARY: Park Sunghoon, a boxer with a difficult career, devotes his life to fights that leave marks on his body as well as his soul. His neighbor, Y/n, a nurse with a big heart, then becomes a pillar in his existence. After each match, she welcomes him to heal his wounds and lighten, even briefly, the weight of his solitude. Over the course of the care, a discreet bond develops between them, hinting at the possibility of a relationship that could turn their lives upside down.

PAIRING : Park Sunghoon x Neighbor Nurse! Reader.

GENRE : Romance, Drama, Psychological Darkness, Slice of Life, Erotica.

WARNING : Graphic violence (brutal fighting with detailed descriptions of open wounds, broken bones, torn muscles, and profuse bleeding), self-harm (through Sunghoon's repeated injuries and the physical toll on his body), intense and chronic physical pain, use of violence as an escape from his inner demons, physical and psychological abuse (emotional manipulation, constant belittling), humiliation by opponents and in combat settings, physical assault in tense situations, psychological trauma related to experiences of violence, fits of rage and self-destructive violent outbursts, threats of violence in interpersonal relationships, clandestine fights with serious injuries and fatal consequences, injuries resulting from violent accidents, emotional and physical shock leading to self-destructive behavior, scenes of invasive and painful medical care that exacerbates suffering, emotional suffering related to addiction to violence, and Sunghoon's internal struggles with his inability to escape his violent past.

SEX WARNING: Vaginal sex, oral sex, no protection, explicit and rough sex, sex after fights with bodies covered in blood, power play and domination, BDSM (binding, spanking, and other practices), exploration of dark fantasies, wild sex with screams of pleasure and pain, intense and aggressive foreplay, passionate kissing on wounds, sex in inappropriate places (like a doctor's office), use of medical equipment (like gloves or bandages) in sexual contexts, feverish embraces after fights, role play where Y/n takes control, mutual masturbation with explicit encouragement, consuming desires and physical obsession, dirty talk during intimacy, fantasies of care mixed with elements of dominance and submission, injured bodies explored in an erotic way, sex toys used to intensify the experience, ejaculation on wounds as a symbol of possession, and provocative and obscene verbal exchanges during the act.

Number of words : ~34k

Author’s Note: I would like to clarify that I don’t have much knowledge about nursing, medicine, or boxing, and I’m not familiar with what really happens in the ring. I mainly relied on my imagination and Google research to write this story. I apologize if there are any inaccuracies. Additionally, this story will be divided into two parts as it’s too long to explore everything I have in mind.

Happy reading!Not proofread, sorry for the mistakes!

The darkness fills the living room as you lie on the couch, half-sleepy, half-conscious. The voices of the characters from Gossip Girl echo faintly from the television, a monotonous murmur that accompanies your solitude. It's just background noise, something to fill the emptiness around you, but you know that deep down, this oppressive silence weighs on you. Your thoughts wander, get lost in the silence of the night, like waves of despair washing up on a deserted beach. Melancholy envelops you, a dark blanket that you don't want to leave.

Suddenly, the shrill sound of the doorbell breaks the silence. Your heart skips a beat. You jump, your eyes open with difficulty, still heavy with sleep. For a moment, you remain frozen, slowly emerging from your torpor. The seconds stretch out, leaving you prey to an inexplicable anxiety. Who could possibly be disturbing you at this late hour? The television continues to play in the background, but your mind is elsewhere, fixed on this unexpected presence behind the door.

Still half asleep, you stand up, your bare feet brushing the cold floor, a shiver running through your body. Without thinking, without even thinking to check, you remove the security chain and open the door. As soon as it opens, you find yourself face to face with him—Park Sunghoon, your neighbor. But he is no longer the same as the last time you saw him. He is not the charming young man, always smiling and somewhat mysterious. Tonight, he is another man, both captivating and terrifying.

He stands there, swaying in a state that almost makes you recoil. One eye is swollen shut, a purplish blue betraying a violent blow, hiding his usually piercing gaze. Welts of blows streak his face, scrapes and bruises mark his jaw and neck. A clenched hand covers his side, and his ragged breathing reveals the effort it takes to stay upright. Despite everything, he tries to smile, but it is a distorted smile, a heartbreaking reflection of the pain he is trying so desperately to hide.

You stand still, caught between worry and confusion. Heart pounding, you slowly move closer, your hands naturally finding their place on his shoulders to help him steady himself. Beneath your fingers, you feel the warmth of his skin, the tension of his tense muscles. He leans weakly against you, an almost crushing weight, a silent testament to the pain tearing through him. Instinctively, you bring him inside, placing a firm hand on his bruised shoulder to give him a point of support, and you feel another warmth: that of the blood, still fresh, soaking his clothes.

In the dimly lit living room, every second drags on, amplifying the tension. The contrast between his state and your comforting surroundings is brutal. You gently lead him to the couch, guiding him carefully, your heart pounding. Each of his steps is a silent struggle, and Sunghoon tenses with each movement, making you feel each pain as if it were your own. You say nothing. Your thoughts swirl like a storm in your head, but you push them away, locking them behind a forced calm. Once he is seated, you lean down to take a closer look at the extent of his injuries.

He grits his teeth and closes his eyes, as if to contain the pain that invades him. You scrutinize his face, detailing each bruise, each scratch, a landscape ravaged by violence. There is something tragic in his vulnerability, a dark beauty that touches you deeply. The sight of his injuries tightens your throat, and yet, you remain strangely calm, almost professional, like a nurse facing a seriously injured patient.

“What happened, Sunghoon?” you ask in a low voice, your words heavy with a worry that you no longer even try to hide. He looks up at you, a look that is both defiant and broken, a struggle between pride and pain. His lips, swollen and cracked, sketch a bitter smile, a fragile mask that trembles under the weight of the truth.

“A fight,” he whispers, his voice rough and raspy. “It was a fight… The other guy was… like a beast. He wouldn’t back down from anything.” His attempt at a laugh turns into a pained grimace, and you see his face twist in pain. Every word he says is a stab to your heart.

You nod, hiding the pain that washes over you. “And you win, I guess,” you say, a forced smile briefly lighting up your face. But behind that facade, your heart clenches, a dull ache gripping you. The air in the room becomes stifling, charged with palpable tension.

Sunghoon answers with a simple nod, trying to keep his gaze fixed on you. You get up to go get your first aid kit, the need to treat him overriding the anxiety that eats away at you. Coming back, you position yourself in front of him, your gestures precise and controlled. With cleaned and gloved hands, you begin by inspecting his jaw, barely brushing it, fearing to inflict more pain on him. His eye, tired but intense, remains fixed on you, and you see a glimmer of vulnerability mixed with an undeniable strength. He does not take his eyes off you, as if he is looking for an anchor in your presence, a promise of safety in this chaos.

“It’s not broken,” you finally say reassuringly, stopping yourself from letting out a sigh of relief. His features soften a little, but you can tell his pride is hurt as much as his body. “I’m proud of you,” you whisper, gently stroking his hair, a spontaneous gesture you can’t explain. You feel his shoulders relax slightly, a moan escaping his lips, a mixture of pain and relief. It’s as if, in this touch, he finds an unexpected redemption.

When he opens his eye again, you feel an almost burning intensity in his gaze, a dark and troubled glow that makes you shiver. It's an intimacy you've never shared before, an unsettling connection that seems to bind you by invisible threads.

“But… I don’t like seeing you like this,” you say again, your voice trembling, almost broken. “You don’t deserve to be in this state for… what, a fight?” The words, laced with anger and pain, come out more bitter than you’d like. It’s unfair, this suffering he’s enduring, and your voice trembles under the weight of emotion.

He looks down, his battered fists clenching, his cracked knuckles dripping with blood. “I know…” he whispers, his voice barely audible, choked with shame he struggles to contain. “I didn’t want you to see me like this… I’m sorry, Y/n… so sorry.” A lone tear slowly rolls down his cheek, and you watch his expression fall as he sniffles and grimaces, realizing that his nose, swollen and bruised, hurts as well.

You step closer, placing a gentle but firm hand on his face, your thumb brushing gingerly over his nose. You know you have to put him back in place, and the thought makes you hesitate, a mixture of fear and desire washing over you. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the painful task ahead, and the ordeal he'll have to endure.

He stares at you, his eyes filled with trust and determination, as if he accepts whatever you are going to inflict on him, willing to endure it as long as you are by his side. The intimacy of this moment, this fusion of anguish and desire, makes you understand that this night could change everything you think you know about him… and about yourself.

“This is going to hurt,” you whisper softly, your voice trembling with apprehension as your latex-gloved hands cup either side of his broken nose. The heat of his body, sweat-soaked and strained by exertion, mixes with the acrid smell of blood that permeates the air. The dim lighting of the room accentuates every feature of his face, emphasizing the deep circles that are a testament to his sleepless nights. “Sorry…” you continue, your words barely audible but filled with genuine empathy.

Your gaze locks on him, observing his face contorted with pain, and you offer him a soothing smile, though grief tightens your chest. “I’m going to have to press pretty hard.” But your smile breaks as you see the fear flash through his eye. You’ve never been faced with such an intensity of pain before. Without waiting any longer, you press your thumb and index finger against his nose, applying a measured force. The crack echoes through the air, a mournful sound that makes you shudder.

Sunghoon grits his teeth, biting his swollen lips to stifle the moans that threaten to escape. Every muscle in his face tenses, his features contorted in pain. Beads of sweat bead on his forehead, a mixture of pain and concentration, as you realign his nose, gradually bringing it back out of the desolation. When you release the pressure, you see a flicker in his eyes, a spark of defiance, as if he wants to prove to you that he is stronger than the pain.

Your gaze lingers on his eyes, and a lump forms in your throat. Silent tears fall from his good eye, tracing a painful path down his cheek. The sight of his grief pierces you like an arrow. “I’m… so sorry, Sunghoon,” you say, your voice trembling, feeling your own tears threaten to overflow. You never wanted to cause this much pain, even out of necessity.

“Hey… I’m tough, I can take it,” he whispers, his voice betraying a fragile bravado. He raises a wounded hand to wipe the tears from his cheek, like a warrior refusing to bend. The contrast is poignant: his physical strength is eroded by raw vulnerability. “Look… it’s just a scratch! I’m a boxer… not a weak man.” His forced smile is a rictus, a mask that tries to hide the pain that eats away at him.

Your tears fall harder in response to his desperate bravado. “Don’t say that…” you say, your voice cracking with emotion. “You’re more than that. You… you’re human.” You see his gaze harden for a moment, a flame of pride flickering in the darkness of his despair. He doesn’t want to be seen as weak, and yet here he is, broken, in front of you.

“Y/n, please don’t cry… I’m not worth it,” Sunghoon whispers, his desperation weaving a web between you. He leans forward, a fragile movement, wincing at the pain of his fractured ribs. Still, he manages to capture your face in his bloodied hands, a gesture that awakens something deeply instinctive within you. “Your tears…” he says, his voice a mixture of sweetness and pain, “are too precious to be wasted on me.”

Tears continue to fall from his eye, but he struggles to hold them back, as if showing his pain is a betrayal. His sobs echo, weak but persistent, and you see the fierce struggle on his face as he tries to control his emotions. “I’m so not worth it… Princess… I’m done for,” his words escape between breaths, heavy with regret. “That’s why no one stays with me for too long… I know I’ll lose you eventually… too.”

The words fall like stones, an immense weight in the already tense air. You witness his distress, and your own pain awakens, the incomprehension of his sacrifice and his grief breaking your heart. “Don’t say that, Sunghoon. I’m here… and I plan to stay, even if it hurts.”

Sunghoon closes his eye, and you see his breath quicken, a dull panic emerging. His hands clench on his bloody t-shirt, searching for a hold, an anchor in this storm that is carrying him away. The sounds of his rapid breathing become more and more disturbing, and you realize that he is in the throes of a panic attack, the anxiety gripping him with a devastating force.

Without thinking, you step closer, taking his bloodied hands in yours, seeking to offer him an anchor in this storm of pain and chaos. “Look at me, Sunghoon. Breathe with me,” you say, your voice both firm and gentle, breaking through the fog of his fear. You make eye contact, seeking to capture his attention, to draw him away from the shadows that haunt him.

“Breathe in… and out,” you say slowly, matching your breathing with his. You see the struggle on his face, a struggle between fear and the desire to hold on to that glimmer of hope. With each breath, you see the panic evaporate a little, replaced by a fragile but persistent lucidity. “I’m here… we’ll get through this together,” you promise, your words acting like a silk thread weaving a connection between your tormented souls.

His hands are still shaking, but his grip on yours is getting tighter, and you know he’s trying. “I’m here for you, Sunghoon. I’m not going to leave, no matter how much it hurts.” The heavy silence between you is filled with palpable tension, a silent promise of loyalty in a world falling apart. His gaze sinks into yours, searching for meaning in this moment of shared chaos. You feel overwhelmed by the intensity in his eyes, by the raw vulnerability that connects you inexplicably. He sighs softly, his forehead resting against yours, in an unsettling proximity where pain and comfort intertwine.

You slowly move away from him, an almost imperceptible smile forming on your lips, but behind this facade hides a dull pain, an unacknowledged fascination that consumes you little by little. Sunghoon's gaze, a heartbreaking mixture of despair and impassivity, fixes on you. A soft moan escapes his lips, a sound that resonates like a tragic melody, illustrating a vulnerability that he struggles to hide. As a boxer, this image of weakness touches you in an unexpected way, a crack in his fighter's armor that makes something vibrate inside you.

Kneeling before Sunghoon, you are overwhelmed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Heart pounding, you carefully lift his t-shirt, revealing a muscular but bruised torso, a landscape devastated by blows. The bruises spread across his skin like shards of dark paint, stains of purple, blue, and black testifying to the fierce battles he has fought. Each blow received leaves an imprint on his flesh, and you shudder at the extent of the damage, a mixture of admiration and sorrow that invades you. Your fingers slide over his skin, hesitant, and you feel a shiver run through his body, a reaction that is not only due to the freshness of the air, but also to the touch of your hand. It is as if your touch awakens something primal in him, a survival instinct mixed with a heartbreaking vulnerability.

As you begin to examine his ribs, you see his face contort in pain. A thrill of excitement washes over you as you see his suffering, and when your light touch elicits no reaction, relief washes over you. But with each harder squeeze, he groans, a guttural sound, a desperate cry that echoes through the room like a silent plea. It’s a symphony of pain and defiance, and you can’t help but be drawn to the duality.

"It's just swelling, nothing serious, but I'm going to give you some antibiotics to help with the pain. You have to take it all, Mr. Park!" you say in a commanding voice, almost amused, but deep down, you wonder if these words are really for him or to convince yourself that everything will be fine.

His face tightens at the thought of taking medication, a pout of disgust forming on his features. A light laugh escapes your mouth, a sound that contrasts with the gravity of the situation, breaking the ice and easing the tension. But inside, you struggle with conflicting emotions. You want to protect him, but this urge to touch him, to see him suffer and fight against the pain, deeply troubles you.

“But first, I’m going to disinfect your bruises and scratches,” you say, preparing yourself for a painful act, a gesture that goes beyond simple medical care, an intrusion into his intimate space.

You grab a gauze, soak it in alcohol, and the strong scent of disinfectant invades your nostrils, a pungent and familiar scent that evokes treatment rooms where blood and sweat mingle. You stand up slightly, leaning towards Sunghoon, your eyes deep into his, where a spark of defiance flickers. This moment becomes a cocoon, a closed universe where each beat of his heart resonates like a drum, each sigh resonating deeply. As you prepare to tap the gauze on his wounds, you give him a small smile, but you know that the pain is inevitable. His muscles tense, every fiber of his body clenched with anticipation.

“This is going to hurt,” you whisper, your voice tinged with an almost unsettling intimacy. Looking into his eyes, you see the storm raging inside him: the physical pain, the humiliation of his situation, but also something deeper, a desire for connection, a cry for help disguised as defiance. The shared gaze becomes a silent exchange, an unspoken promise of something darker that binds you, an attraction to the chaos you create together.

The first touches are both gentle and violent, a delicate balance between care and pain. He winces at each touch, his face betraying the pain, but there is also a glimmer of defiance, a fierce determination not to give in to weakness. In his gaze, you perceive a mixture of frustration and desire, an inner struggle that captivates you. Each harder pressure on a bruise fills you with a shiver, a palpable tension between you, a macabre dance of conflicting emotions that seems to transcend words.

As you continue to disinfect his wounds, each tap becomes more intense, charged with palpable emotion. He grits his teeth, and you can almost hear the beating of his heart, resonating like a drum in the silence. The pain that seeps into the air becomes a form of communication, an unspoken connection between you. You feel the attraction building, a burning desire enveloping the atmosphere, an electric tension vibrating through every fiber of your being. In each grimace, you sense a mixture of pain and pleasure, and you wonder if, behind that warrior facade, he also feels an attraction to this shared moment.

The silence is heavy, saturated with an unbearable tension. When you finish disinfecting his wounds, you step back slightly, observing the marks you left. The look he gives you is charged with an indefinable intensity, a deep connection you hadn't anticipated. His dark eyes, usually impassive, sparkle with admiration mixed with pain, a complex tangle of emotions that you have trouble deciphering.

But you know that the next step requires even more attention, precision and care. You have to wrap him up, get even closer to him, to his body. The contact is inevitable, the proximity almost unbearable. You take a deep breath and slowly open the box of bandages, amplifying each movement, each gesture, as if to make this step even more intimate.

“Now I’m going to bandage you,” you whisper, your voice low, almost caressing. Those simple words carry something more, a silent promise, an invitation to let yourself into his world, a world where the pain is made a little softer by your touch. You step closer to him, your hands shaking slightly, but it’s not nervousness. It’s the effect of the excitement this particular moment brings you. You slowly unroll the bandage, the rough texture of the fabric sliding between your fingers, and prepare to begin.

The first place you place the bandage is his right shoulder. His body is tense under your hands, and you can feel the heat of his skin, marked by blows. You approach slowly, wrapping the bandage around his arm, making sure it is snug, but not too tight. The contact of your body against his is inevitable, and you can feel the tension in every fiber of his muscles. Each pass of your finger against his skin makes him shudder, a shudder that betrays his resistance to the pain, but also to the intimacy of this moment. The softness of your touch contrasts with the brutality of the blows he has received, and you feel something primitive awaken between you with each wrap of the bandage.

You slide the bandage over with an almost unbearable slowness, making sure to cover every inch of his skin where still visible bruises testify to the battles he has fought. The bandage hugs his shape, wrapping around his shoulder, then down to his bicep, your gaze fixed on the dark skin marked with bruises. With each new turn, you move a little closer to him, your body brushing his. He says nothing, but you know he is fully aware of your presence, of your touch. You see his muscles tense and relax with each movement, and you wonder if he is fighting against this pain or against the attraction you arouse in him.

When you finish applying the bandage around his shoulder, you look up and meet his gaze. He is impassive, but his tight lips, the slight trembling of his jaw betray a certain emotion, a resistance that he does not want to let show. You know that he wants to show you that he is strong, but you feel beneath his surface the broken, vulnerable man who fights with everything he has not to succumb to this intimacy that you offer him without saying anything.

You prepare to move down to his chest. With calculated slowness, you take another bandage, and unroll it under your fingers. The first part is easy, a simple wrap around his chest, but with each stroke of your wrist, you brush the skin marked by the blows, and you see a shiver of pain cross his muscles. The skin of his chest is still marked by the shrapnel of the fights he has endured. Each bruise is a painting, an illustration of his struggle. As you apply the bandage to his ribs, you feel the tension in his breathing. With each pass, you go a little lower, following the curve of his chest, and your hands brush areas of his body that he normally keeps secret, protected. You feel his muscles quiver under your touch, and you know that you are going beyond simple medical care. It is an intrusion into his space, an intimate penetration that destabilizes him, but he does not let himself go.

Wrapping the bandage around his torso becomes an almost ceremonial act. He lets you do it, but you know he’s fighting the urge to push you away and be harder. Still, his eyes don’t leave you, and you see a spark of defiance mixed with a fragility he doesn’t usually show.

Then you move on to his wrists. The wounds on his hands are deep, deeper than he lets on. You sigh inwardly, gently touching his palms, brushing against the still-red scratches. He stops himself from wincing, but you see the effort he makes to remain stoic. With measured slowness, you take the bandages, wrapping them around his wrists one after the other, applying moderate pressure to support his wounds without causing additional pain. Your fingers brush his with each pass of the bandage, an intimate, almost sensual gesture, like a silent promise. The bandages around his wrists are a way to contain this violence, this broken energy, and to embrace it in the softness of your gestures.

Each pass of the bandage on his wrists seems to reduce the distance between the two of you. Each wrap is more than a gesture of care, it becomes a signature of intimacy, an invisible thread that binds you closer. And when you finish tightening the last turn of bandage around his wrists, you leave a moment of silence between you, a suspended moment where only the sound of his slow breathing resonates. He looks at you, and for the first time, his eyes seem to tell you that he accepts what you are doing, even if he doesn't show it entirely.

Your gaze travels over his body, settling on every bandage you’ve applied, every wound you’ve carefully tended. He’s there, sitting in front of you, exposed, vulnerable, and yet his gaze is that of a predator. This duality, this underlying violence, hits you. A struggle between accepting his fragility and the need to maintain control, to defy you.

Slowly, almost without thinking, your hand settles on his chest, following the contours of his muscles under the skin, each line marking the blows he has taken, each curve of his scars resonating like an echo of his fights. As your fingers slide, you feel trapped in a strange fascination, an almost unhealthy need to feel this pain he endures, to immerse yourself in this suffering that seems to be his, to see how far he is willing to go.

“Does it still hurt?” you whisper, your voice soft but filled with a surprising intensity. It’s not just a question; there’s something darker, more insidious beneath the words, as if you’re trying to discover the limits of his endurance, to understand what he feels in front of you, in front of this contact so close, so intimate.

His gaze, which hasn’t left yours, darkens further. He remains silent, but the slight twitch of his muscles under your hand is an answer in itself. Slowly, his lips stretch into a wry smile, a smirk that carries as much defiance as desire, as if daring you to continue, to test how far you’d be willing to go. His voice, hoarse, barely a whisper, infiltrates the heavy air between you, each word laden with innuendo.

“Pain is nothing. But you… you are more dangerous than any wound.”

These words hit you, paralyze you for a moment. Sunghoon knows exactly the effect he has, and this power play tinged with seduction and darkness fascinates you as much as it destabilizes you. You have crossed an invisible threshold, a point of no return where everything becomes possible, where every gesture, every look becomes a weapon, a means of control that you silently dispute.

Without you really being able to control it, your hand slowly descends along his torso, your fingers tracing invisible lines on his bruised skin. It is no longer a simple gesture of care; it is something more intense, darker. You feel his breathing quicken, his gaze become more piercing, more intense, and a shiver runs through his body, betraying the mixture of pain and pleasure that he seems to feel under your touch. This proximity, this tension, makes you feel like you are playing with fire, exploring a dangerous and forbidden zone where suffering and desire mingle, where the boundaries between pleasure and pain dissolve.

“Maybe you like it, the pain,” you breathe with a provocative smile, your words wrapping around him like a poisoned caress. Your voice is soft, almost innocent, but the look you give Sunghoon is anything but. It’s no longer a question, it’s a challenge, as if you want to see how far he’s willing to go, how far this dark fascination could take you.

Sunghoon stares at you, his eyes burning with a feral glint. You can feel him holding back, fighting something inside him, a part he’s trying to stifle. His hand comes up and traps yours on his chest, his fingers squeezing yours with a force that electrifies you. It’s a possessive gesture, almost brutal, but you don’t move. Instead, you move closer to him, so close that your faces brush, feeling the heat of his breath against your skin, your heart beating so hard it feels like it’s about to explode.

“Maybe so,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, his breath hot against your face. His words are a confession, a painful admission, as if he’s giving you a part of himself he’s never shown anyone. His fingers tighten a little around your hand, his grip almost desperate, as if he wants to make sure you’re really there, that this tension between you is real.

At that moment, you feel like everything is changing.

Your heart races, resonating like a drum in your chest, amplifying the tension that binds you. The air is charged with a palpable energy, an electric current that draws you in despite the pain that eats away at Sunghoon. The darkness of his wounds is not limited to his flesh; it encompasses his soul, and something in you awakens, an unhealthy curiosity, an insatiable desire to touch him, to understand him, to reach him in his depth.

You let yourself be carried away by this impulse, this irrepressible attraction that pushes you to get closer, to cross this limit that you have maintained until now. With measured slowness, you lean towards him, your face brushing his neck, the heat of his body mixed with the musky smell of sweat and dried blood. Each breath becomes a delicate dance, each beat of your heart resonating in the heavy silence of the room.

Your voice, low and vibrant, slides between you, each word wrapping around him like a silk thread, delicate but inexorable: “Maybe you need this… maybe you need someone to make you feel something real, something raw, something painful.”

Those words, laden with a murky promise, hang in the air, seeping into Sunghoon like a bittersweet poison. You watch his reactions, the shiver that runs through his body, the way his muscles tense under your proximity, revealing the extent of the effect you have on him. He closes his eyes for a moment, as if to savor the impact of your voice, to let your proposition penetrate his mind, awakening that part of him he desperately seeks to stifle.

When he opens his eyes again, his gaze is even darker, almost bestial, broken but overflowing with buried desires. Sunghoon lets out a whisper, each word heavy and almost desperate: “I don’t need someone… I need you.”

These words hit like a shockwave, a statement that resonates deep within you, leaving you frozen in this unsettling proximity where silence seems to burn with a thousand unsaid things. A spark is created, a moment suspended in time where everything seems possible, where every breath, every beat of his heart is intertwined with yours.

Your mind ignites with a dark and tempting melody, that of an unspoken desire, an irresistible urge to dive deeper into the abysses of his being. You move forward slightly, your nose brushing the burning skin of his neck, and you smell his scent, a mixture of adrenaline, pain and wild virility that consumes you. Your heart races even faster, and you realize that you are crossing a threshold, that of vulnerability and pleasure.

The acrid smell of dried blood on his neck, mixed with that of his sweat and the leather, creates a palpable, almost hypnotic atmosphere. Every beat of your heart resonates like a drum, every panting breath of his seems to synchronize with the dark melody you compose together. You are spellbound by this proximity, by the raw vulnerability that emanates from him, but also by the danger of this moment. It is as if you are dancing on a tightrope stretched over an abyss, one wrong step and everything could change.

His hand, still held captive by yours, tightens even more, and you feel the tension intensifying, almost palpable, between you. His fingers are chains that are both restrictive and comforting, and you wonder if you could free yourself if you really wanted to. The thought, a mixture of anxiety and excitement, makes you shudder. In his gaze, you perceive a dark promise, that of a shared desire but also of submission.

“I need you,” he repeats, his raspy voice weaving invisible threads between your souls, tugging at the strings of your consciousness, awakening a buried desire you’d never dared explore. You feel a shiver run down your spine, a heat rising inside you, irresistible, almost like a call to rebel against your own caution. What he offers is more than just a need; it’s a cry from the heart, a desperate confession that touches you at the very core of your being.

For a moment, you weigh the weight of his words, and the intensity of that moment freezes you, pins you to the ground. What does this mean? What does he really want from you? You realize that this dynamic between you, this play of power and desire, is intertwined in a spiral of sensations you have never known. It frightens you and attracts you at the same time, an internal struggle that echoes the wounds he carries.

You want to answer his call, to lean into Sunghoon, to explore the darkness that draws you together. But instead, you choose to play with that thread of tension, to tease him, to urge him to go further. “Do you really think you need me?” you ask, your voice slithering like a snake, soft but charged with deliberate provocation. “What if I bring you more than you can handle?”

The effect of your words is immediate. A shiver of defiance runs through his body, and you see his eyes light up with a feral glint, as if your question has opened a door to an abyss he is ready to explore. “I yearn for this,” he murmurs, his voice almost a growl, revealing a depth of desire that you begin to understand, to apprehend.

And then, without thinking any further, you lean down, your breath mingling with his, the heat of your body clashing with his. You brush your lips against his skin, a delicate kiss that quickly turns into something much more insistent, more desperate. You feel his muscles tense under your touch, his breathing become more erratic, and each movement you make brings you a little closer to the precipice, a little closer to this obscene desire that is emerging between you.

“You’re already breaking me,” Sunghoon says, his voice a mixture of pain and ecstasy, and in that moment, you realize that you’ve never had this much power over someone. It’s an unsettling, almost intoxicating feeling, to be the one guiding this dark dance between pain and pleasure. The fact that he’s here, at your mercy, aroused by every kiss, every brush, makes you realize that you’ve crossed a line from which there’s no return.

“So show me,” you say, your voice a whisper, an invitation, a challenge, and you know that no matter what path it takes, you’re ready to dive into that darkness with him.

Sunghoon leans towards you with deliberate slowness, each step echoing like a heartbeat in the tension-filled atmosphere. His gaze, both hot and possessive, fixes on your lips, and you can almost feel the static electricity between you, an invisible thread connecting you in this darkness. The air is heavy with unspoken promises, an atmosphere charged with a wild desire that just begs to be released.

When his lips brush yours, it's as if a spark has been lit. This first contact is delicate, almost timid, but it is already charged with a palpable intensity. You feel your heart accelerate as the softness of his lips kisses you with an unexpected tenderness, making you shudder. His hands, strong and assured, slide slowly into your hair, mixing movements of softness and domination, as if he were trying to anchor you in this moment, to make you understand that you belong to him now.

He tilts your head slightly to the side, a calculated gesture that opens you up to him further, and you feel vulnerable, but in a deliciously arousing way. Sunghoon takes his time to explore this budding connection, his tongue slowly making its way between your parted lips, seeking to discover you, to learn you like an artist observing his masterpiece. When his tongue touches yours, it’s a shock, a fusion of burning desires. His gentleness gradually turns into a pressing insistence, and you feel a wave of heat rising inside you.

There’s a dance in your movements, an exchange where he teases you, his tongue brushing yours with a defiant delicacy, then pulling back slightly, as if he’s toying with your impatience. You feel him move even closer, his lips pressing against yours with increased intensity. The passion you’d only touched on before becomes all-consuming, slowly consuming you. You open your mouth a little wider, inviting his tongue to venture further, to explore this forbidden territory you share.

Sunghoon, not needing to be asked twice, slides his tongue against yours with more confidence, each movement creating waves of sensations that envelop you. His tongue intertwines with yours in a sensual choreography, the contact becoming bolder, more urgent. You feel your breath quicken, panting softly with each thrust of his tongue, each caress of his lips. He sinks deeper, savoring the intimacy of this moment, as if he wants to possess you entirely, to suck you into his dark world.

Your breathing becomes ragged, a mixture of desire and anxiety. You are aware of the power of this kiss, of how it pushes you to abandon all restraint. Sunghoon’s fingers slide from your hair to the nape of your neck, caressing your skin with a tenderness that contrasts with the intensity of his kiss. His hand, soft but firm, acts like a chain, holding you captive to his desire. The touch of his fingers against your neck sends shivers down your spine, and you feel every beat of your heart echo in your ears.

As the kiss deepens, Sunghoon becomes more dominant. He takes control, his tongue exploring every corner of your mouth, every movement a declaration of his will. The sounds you make are melodies of pleasure and submission, a symphony that encourages him to go even further. His lips move with such fiery passion that they seem to burn your skin, marking you with his imprint.

The dynamic between you becomes more complex, a power play where you are both the object of his desire and the source of his torment. You feel the passion, the need to get closer, to melt into each other, while a part of you resists, aware of the vertigo that this moment can engender. Yet, the darkness of his intentions and the intensity of his desire remind you of how vulnerable you are to him.

The kiss takes a wilder turn, his tongue searching your mouth with a brutal fervor, as if he were trying to tear something hidden deep inside you. You let yourself be carried away, lost in this ocean of sensations where pain and pleasure mix, where each caress is both sweet and devastating. Your heartbeat accelerates, the rhythm of your dance intensifying with each second.

Every time his lips break away from yours, you shudder in anticipation, each sigh a plea to find him again, to plunge back into the darkness that envelops you. He doesn’t leave you without contact for long, returning to the charge with renewed fervor, his tongue seeking to remind you of how much you are his. Sunghoon seems to enjoy your response, each gasp, each shiver of your body revealing to him the extent of his power over you.

As the kiss deepens, the outside world slowly blurs. Everyday worries, fears, doubts fade into the darkness of this connection, and you feel free, but at the same time trapped in this whirlwind of emotions. You are both a lover and a prey, and this duality makes you tremble with pleasure.

Sunghoon, in all his complexity, becomes both your refuge and your ruin. In that dark, obscene kiss, you share more than lips: you reveal yourself, your souls touching in a dance of light and shadow, desire and fear. It’s an exploration of boundaries, a journey into the depths of what it means to love in the dark, and you realize, with a consuming intensity, that this is just the beginning of a journey that will mark you forever.

When Sunghoon finally pulls away from you, his burning face is lit up with a deep red hue, revealing how intense, almost unreal, the exchange has been. His lips, now swollen and shiny, still bear the mark of your kiss, and his breath, irregular and panting, betrays the ardor of his unquenchable desires. His eyes, dark and deep, scrutinize you with a devouring intensity, as if he were trying to pierce the secrets of your soul. The air between you is charged with electricity, each breath interrupted by sighs of anticipation and desire.

He keeps one hand anchored to your waist, his warm, possessive touch calling you back to him as his heart beats at a frantic pace, synchronizing with yours. His chest rises and falls with a wild intensity, a chaotic rhythm that vibrates the air around you. You’re completely lost in ecstasy, eyes hazy with desire as every inch of your skin ignites under his touch, each brush making you shudder with pleasure.

Your hand slides slowly down his shoulder, desperate to catch your breath, but he doesn't take his eyes off you, a feral glint lighting up his expression. "You're so pretty, princess," he whispers, his voice husky, almost a growl, "but I need more... so much more." The words resonate through you like a haunting melody, awakening a burning, desperate desire to be his entirely, to experience every nuance of his passion.

His fingers slide along your waist, slowly descending to your hips, where he grips your flesh firmly, as if he wants to make sure you belong to him entirely. He pushes you gently, but with possessive determination, onto the couch, settling you into his spot as he kneels in front of you. In that moment, the outside world disappears, and only this intimate bubble between the two of you exists, saturated with desire and palpable tension. Ignoring the pain that can habituate him, his only concern is your presence, the remedy he desperately needs. “Be my medicine… I need you so much,” he murmurs, his gaze locked with yours, and you know he’s talking about more than just your body. He wants an escape, a refuge, and you are that light in his darkness.

He plays with the elastic of your pajamas, lifting them slightly, a gesture both tender and provocative. His fingers linger on your skin, each movement a caress that makes your body vibrate with desire. You lift your hips to help him remove your garment, your heart beating wildly, the thrill of anticipation invading you entirely. When he removes your panties, his eyes shine with a devouring greed, and you can see the raw passion that drives him. “Don’t hide my view, Y/n, I want to see everything… of you.” His voice is a hungry whisper, and as he spreads your thigh, he discovers your nakedness with an almost pathological admiration, his eyes lingering on every curve of your body.

“That’s the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, princess,” he murmurs, his gaze piercing and burning. His hot breath caresses your skin, and you shudder at every touch, feeling utterly vulnerable under his hungry gaze. The tension builds, and you’re suspended between apprehension and excitement, each second stretching out in unbearable anticipation. When his tongue darts out, first caressing the tender skin of your thighs, a shiver of intense pleasure runs through you, and you can’t help but moan softly. Sunghoon savors every movement, his gaze fixed on you, watching with perverse satisfaction the effect he has on your body.

He moves up slowly, his tongue skimming your skin with delicious lightness, each touch making you tingle with anticipation. When he finally reaches the warmth of your intimacy, a shiver of pleasure washes over you, as if an electric current were running through your body. Sunghoon kisses your pussy softly, his warm lips wrapping around you, and you let out a moan, a melody of pleasure and desperation. He savors the wetness that slides over his lips, tasting the arousal that overflows from you. His tongue slowly comes out, sliding over your skin, licking with exquisite care, each movement calculated to make you shudder. You are intoxicated, completely captured by this sensation.

As he continues, you feel a growing heat inside you. The shiver that invades you is both delicious and unbearable. Sunghoon knows exactly how to control you, each gesture being both tender and cruel. He spreads his tongue, licking slowly along your pussy, tracing circles, each pass of his tongue drawing a louder moan from you. His movements become bolder, hungrier, as if he wants to taste every drop of your desire. He enjoys your taste, he delights in every reaction you have, watching with satisfaction as you slowly lose all control.

“You want more, princess?” he asks, his voice hot and teasing. The sound of his voice makes you shiver with excitement. “You want me to fuck your pretty little slutty pussy with my tongue, hmm?” He lets his thumb slide slowly over your clit, his touch causing a surge of pleasure, making you impatient. You see the spark of defiance in his eyes, the pleasure he feels at seeing you like this, vulnerable and at his mercy.

“Please… fuck me with your tongue, Sunghoon,” you growl, your voice betraying your desperate desire. You can’t tear yourself away from his gaze. The intensity of his cocky smile takes your breath away, his smile seeming to say that he’s in complete control. As his eyes remain fixed on yours, he gently nibbles on one of your pussy lips, a gesture that’s both tender and possessive. He begins to suck with meticulous attention, his lips wrapped tightly around you, all the while maintaining eye contact, as if he’s trying to read your soul through your eyes.

The sensation is both exquisite and disturbing. Sunghoon deploys his tongue with obsessive thoroughness, exploring every corner of your intimacy, each movement is imbued with a delicious obscenity. His tongue slides slowly over your pussy, kissing it, licking it with a mixture of sweetness and voracity. The movements of his tongue become faster and faster, more ardent, and you feel the orgasm rising in you, like a wave ready to break.

Your hips lift involuntarily, seeking to pull him closer, to urge him to give you even more of this delight. Every moan that leaves your mouth is a plea, a silent demand for more of what he offers you. He plays with your body like a maestro, every note he touches perfectly tuned to your desire. You cling to the couch, your nails digging into the fabric as the intensity of your response increases.

“Oh, Sunghoon…” you whisper, the name escaping your lips like a prayer. He responds with an approving groan, his eyes shining with satisfaction. The warmth of his breath, mixed with the wetness of your skin, makes you shiver in anticipation.

Sunghoon seems to absorb your pleasure, revelling in every reaction, every cry. He alternates between licking and sucking, using every part of his tongue, every movement to keep you on the edge between pleasure and pain. He takes you further, plunging you into a sea of ecstasy and anguish.

“You’re so delicious,” he murmurs, and you feel the thrill of his words vibrate through your body, intensifying the desire bubbling inside you. The movements of his tongue become more fervent, digging deeper, each thrust making you cry out in pleasure, your thoughts blurring under the force of the impending orgasm.

“Let yourself go, princess,” he orders in a husky voice, his gaze never leaving yours. The intensity in his eyes captivates you, and you know he wants you to surrender, to give him everything, to lose control. With every movement, he pulls you further into this spiral of pleasure, his tongue swirling around you, digging in and making you moan even louder.

“Sunghoon… Oh my God, you’re going to… kill me,” you say, your voice trembling, betraying the anguish mixed with an unquenchable desire burning inside you. Each syllable that escapes your lips resonates like a song of surrender, a delicious plea for him not to stop. His tongue, hot and agile, delves deep into your pussy, thrusting in and out with a precision that draws guttural moans from you. Each lick is a promise, a lewd caress that slowly consumes you, drawing you into an endless spiral of pleasure.

You arch under him, your body captivated by the heat of his breath, pressing your intimacy against his face, desperate to reach an unparalleled intensity. Your hand slides into his hair, gripping it firmly, tugging lightly to draw him even closer, as if that could increase the ecstasy that invades you. His movements are hypnotic, each gesture of his tongue a delicate dance that explores every corner of your being, tracing slow and languid circles around your clitoris, immersing you in a sensation of unprecedented euphoria.

Sunghoon explores your body with disarming eagerness, his tongue twisting and curling around your heat, as if he were trying to discover all the secrets buried within you. The sweet, musky scent of your flesh urges him to go even further, his silky lips pressing against your skin, each touch resonating within you like an electric shock. Each moan that escapes your throat seems to ignite him further, fueling his insatiable thirst.

He moans softly in response to your sounds of pleasure, his vibrations coursing through your flesh and flooding you with intoxicating sensations. The guttural sound that escapes his throat, a mixture of desire and devotion, makes your heart beat faster. At this moment, it's just the two of you, lost in this sensual dance, each movement resonating with palpable tension. You're at his mercy, completely overwhelmed by the need for more, for everything.

His movements become bolder, his tongue wrapping around your clit, teasing it with a delicious delicacy that leaves you panting, almost desperate. Each thrust and pull of his tongue pulls you further into ecstasy, forcing you to bend under the pressure of your own desire. “Yes, Sunghoon, more…” you whisper, your voice trembling, almost pleading, as you lose yourself in the delight he offers you. The words that leave your mouth are an invitation, a battle cry for him to never stop exploring your body.

The sensations mix, creating a whirlwind of intense emotions. His nails dig into the tender flesh of your thighs, a light pressure but enough to tear delicious shivers from you. It’s both pain and pleasure, a tasty cocktail that intensifies your pleasure as he devours you with an insatiable passion. With each moan, you feel the adrenaline rise, your most primal instincts awakening, each cry resonating like a song of submission to his will.

He keeps playing with your body, alternating between fast and frantic movements of his tongue and softer caresses, as if he wanted to push you to explore the limits of your pleasure. His eyes, deeply anchored in yours, shine with a glint of defiance, a promise of obscene desire that makes you shudder. He loves to see you lose control, savoring every moment when you give in to him, every shiver that runs down your spine.

As he intensifies his movements, you feel a wave of heat wash over you, a primal desire that envelops you and pulls you towards the abyss. The pressure builds inside you, a delicious tension that drives you to scream his name. “Sunghoon, I… I can’t…” your voice breaks, the struggle between pleasure and pain reaching its climax, each word betraying your total surrender.

He revels in your vulnerability, each moan bringing you closer to orgasm. Your body responds to his touch, arching and pressing against his face, begging for more as you feel your sanity waver. The room is filled with your cries and the sounds of his insatiable devotion, an erotic symphony of raw, desperate pleasure.

When you feel the breath of his nose caress your clitoris, a wave of pleasure invades you, each brush transforming into a divine caress, as if he knows every part of your being. Sunghoon leaves nothing to chance, exploring with a disturbing thoroughness. His tongue movements become more and more pressing, more and more desirous, as if he wants to devour you entirely, each second belonging to him and nothing else.

You know you're at his mercy, that he has the power to take you places you've never dared to go. You're completely engulfed by this experience, the outside world fading away as you lose yourself in the twists and turns of your own desire. The orgasm begins to form, a ball of intense heat in the pit of your stomach, and you know you won't be able to contain it much longer.

“Sunghoon, I… I’m gonna…” you whisper, your voice broken by moans, your breath coming out in short bursts. In one last desperate motion, he intensifies his tongue, bringing you to the edge. The orgasm washes over you like a tide, a wave of heat and pleasure that leaves you panting and shaking, every fiber of your being vibrating with ecstasy. You cry out his name, letting yourself be completely overwhelmed by the passion, and he continues to kiss you, to suck you dry, as if he wants to make sure this moment never ends.

Finally, as the wave of pleasure begins to fade, you fall back, your body tired but satisfied, a soft, exhausting warmth coursing through you. Sunghoon slowly straightens up, a satisfied smile on his face, his eyes shining with animal satisfaction. You know you've just shared something unique, something dark and filthy, a bond that unites you beyond physical desire, a carnal communion marked by devotion and unquenchable desire.

Sunghoon approaches slowly, each movement echoing like a heartbeat in the heavy silence of the room. He sits down next to you on the couch, a movement charged with tension, with pain. His eye, dark as night, settles on you, piercing you with an almost palpable intensity, a kind of obsession that freezes you in place. You feel trapped in his gaze, as if every fiber of your being is exposed, vulnerable under his scrutiny. He takes you in his arms, a gesture that seems tender but conceals a possessive, almost brutal force. His hands, as warm as the sun, tighten around your waist, his embrace asserting his dominance. It is as if his hand seeks to mark your flesh, to impregnate your body with his imprint, a silent affirmation of his desire and his power.

His hand slowly slides under your t-shirt, each caress a fire that spreads on your skin, burning you deliciously. He doesn't hurry; on the contrary, he savors each moment, each shiver that he manages to make you feel. His fingers trace imaginary lines on your stomach, then go back up, his nails brushing your skin with a promise of sweet pain. This contact is so intimate, so direct that it tears a sigh from you mixed with pleasure and fear, a shiver that can only be his, a mixture of irresistible desire and overwhelming terror. This shiver, unique, only he can produce it, a feeling of exhilarating danger.

As he holds you captive in his arms, he leans down to press a kiss to your hair. It’s not a simple kiss; it’s an act charged with meaning, filled with dark intent. He closes his eyes, inhaling the scent of your hair, as if he wants to imbue every fiber of his being with your essence, seeking to possess you beyond the physical, to the very soul. A satisfied smile slowly forms on his lips, a smile you can’t see but you can feel in the way his body tenses against yours, proud and triumphant.

You turn your head slowly towards him, lifting your face until you meet his eye. It shines with an intense, almost dangerous glow, a mixture of dark desire and a kind of quiet madness, the one that whispers to you that he will never let you go. “You are so beautiful…” you whisper, your voice weak, as if it struggles to rise in the face of the raw emotion that overwhelms you.

Slowly, you pull away from him, just enough to gaze at his face, and you observe the marks of his fights, the bruises that run across his skin. It is a face sculpted by violence, a raw beauty that captivates you. Your fingers slide over his cheek, brushing against the large blue bruise that colors his skin, and you approach, placing a delicate kiss, a caress so soft that it almost seems out of place. Your gesture is filled with an obsessive tenderness, as if each kiss were an attempt to appease the rage that lies dormant within him. You kiss each mark, each scar, as if you were trying to heal a man who refuses to be healed.

As you continue, you feel his breath quicken, a palpable tension building around you. He looks at you with an almost suffocating intensity, as if each of your kisses is a victory he savors. You lean down to kiss his black eye, a light kiss, a feather over his pain. His hand tightens around your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh, and he pulls you closer, forcing you to almost lie against him, his warmth enveloping you. His gaze sinks into yours, serious, burning with a strange affection, a possessiveness that consumes you.

His features harden as he grips you tighter around the waist, crushing you against him, as if your body is the only refuge that can soothe the rage inside him. His words, heavy with promise, hit your heart like an electric shock. “Don’t think for a second that I’m going to let you go. I’m not ready to lose you, Y/n. Not now, not ever.” The gravity of his words oppresses you, a weight that squeezes your chest. A wave of emotions surges through you, excitement mixed with terror, as the outside world fades away, leaving only the beating of your heart, your short breaths, and the urgency of the moment.

Before you can form a thought, he leans down, his hot breath caressing your skin, a shiver running down your spine. “I’ve fallen in love with you, and I can’t turn back. It’s an obsession, a need… You’re everything to me.” The words hit you like a punch, a mix of euphoria and fear, and you feel engulfed by conflicting sensations.

“Sunghoon, I…” you begin, but he interrupts you, this time with desperate impatience, breaking the air around you.

“Let me show you how serious I am. Tomorrow I’ll take you on a date, and you’ll see. I want you to feel what I feel. I’ll do anything for you.” His words rise, heavy with dark promises and unspoken desires, a hypnotic melody that envelops you. The tension between you becomes palpable, a taut rope ready to give way under the weight of your emotions, each glance exchanged a promise of dark delights to come.

He lays down on the couch, pulling you with him, his strength forcing you to wrap yourself around him. The warmth of his body against yours envelops you in a wave of raw arousal. His scent, a mix of musk and leather, intoxicates you, pushing you closer. His fingers caress your shoulder blade, lingering on your skin as if he were trying to etch this moment into his memory, an invisible tattoo of desire and possession.

You try to sit up, aware of his pain, but he holds you tighter, deliberately ignoring his injuries. You know he's fighting the pain, but his determination to keep you close wins. His eye slowly closes, and you feel him savoring this moment, this fragile cocoon you've woven together, almost sacred.

The silence of the room is punctuated by the rhythm of your breaths, an echo of the intensity that envelops you like a velvet blanket. “You’re like a drug, Y/n,” he confides, his voice laced with passion. “Every time I touch you, I lose control a little more.” His words reach you, and a deep heat invades you, making you realize the extent of his obsession. It’s a dark beauty, a dangerous attraction that sucks you in, devours you, and you know you’re about to cross a line from which there will be no return.

As you lose yourself in this exchange, a shiver of anticipation runs through you. Adrenaline pulses through your veins, and you want to feel him all over, taste his lips, merge with him in an act of desperation and passion. His intense gaze fixes you, and in his eyes, you see a vulnerability, a fear of losing you that intertwines with his possessiveness. “Promise me you’ll never leave,” he whispers, his voice trembling slightly, breaking the armor of strength he usually wears.

The words escape like a desperate plea, and you feel a warmth in your chest, a tenderness in the face of his pain. This connection goes beyond physical attraction; it’s a silent pact, a promise to explore the depths of your darkness. The thought of losing yourselves in each other, of abandoning each other, becomes an unbearable temptation.

“I’m not leaving,” you whisper confidently. “I want to see how far this can take us.” A smile plays on his lips, a mixture of relief and triumph, a promise of passion and devotion, an invitation to delve deeper into the darkness together.

The darkness is only just beginning to engulf you.

The glass walls of the aquarium refracted a mystical blue light, creating an almost magical environment, an underwater world where time seemed suspended. Inside, Sunghoon and you, hand in hand, moved slowly among the shifting shadows of the colorful fish that glided gracefully through the water. Each movement of their sparkling bodies reflected the magic of a shared moment, but there was also this palpable tension between you, like a rope ready to break.

Sunghoon looked at you with a devouring intensity, his dark, almost invasive eyes, seeking to pierce the secret of your soul. He loved to see the wonder dance on your face, especially when you were ecstatic in front of shells or fish. “You are so fascinated by these little things,” he said, a teasing smile stretching his lips. Each time, you pouted, feigning anger, but the flame of a mischievous joy danced in the depths of your eyes. The shiver that inhabited you with each look he gave you was palpable, a mixture of defiance and desire.

“I’m really glad you brought me here,” you whispered softly, squeezing his hand in yours, your palm warming against his. As a shark approached, opening its large mouth to reveal sharp white teeth, a shiver of fear mixed with curiosity ran through you. You instinctively backed away, seeking refuge behind him, and he burst out laughing, a deep, rich sound that resonated in your chest.

“It’s just a shark,” he joked, but the amusement in his voice was tinged with something darker, a promise of adrenaline. Sunghoon turned to you, cupping your face gently in his hands, his fingers brushing your skin with unsettling tenderness. “Why are you hiding? You seem so happy to be here,” he asked, his gaze shining with a devouring interest.

“I’m not hiding, I’m just protecting myself with the attractive body of my… boxer boyfriend,” you said, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. You placed your ear against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heart, a rapid beat that resonated throughout your being. He pulled you back slightly to look into your eyes, searching for something deep in your gaze, a buried truth, a deeper connection.

“W… What? Your boyfriend?” His tone betrayed surprise mixed with an almost possessive satisfaction. You slipped your hand into his, the feel of his warm skin against yours making you shudder. Every movement was charged with tension, a shiver of anticipation that promised something much more intense.

“You don’t want to be anymore?” you asked, feigning innocence as you pointed to a random man in the crowd. “Maybe I should ask that man then.” As soon as you finished speaking, he growled, a deep, possessive sound that sent shivers through you. Sunghoon tugged at your hand, pinning you against him with controlled strength, and you gasped in surprise, your heart racing as excitement coursed through you.

His lips found yours in a heated kiss, the burning passion pouring out like a torrent. It was a wild and eager touch, a thrill of heat and devotion. His hand, not in yours, slid around your waist, his fingers wrapping around your body with an unsettling possessiveness, pulling you even closer to him, as if he were trying to fuse you with him.

The taste of his lips, sweet and salty, intoxicated you. He gently nibbled your lower lip, asking you for access to a universe that you were ready to explore. The warmth of his mouth mingled with the softness of his tongue that ventured timidly at first, then with increasingly bold confidence. His movements were hypnotic, and you could feel your body reacting to each caress, each touch.

As you immersed yourself in this intimate dance, you slid your hand to the nape of his neck, your fingers sinking into his thick, soft hair. The way he touched you was both rough and delicate, revealing a duality that fascinated and intoxicated you. The air around you was charged with palpable electricity, each sigh and moan becoming a melody shared between your lips.

Your tongues mingled in a torrid dance, a feverish exploration of your unspoken desires. Each movement of his tongue against yours was like a promise, a call for total surrender. Your bodies clung to each other, losing themselves in the intensity of the moment, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin, each breath more panting than the last.

A moan escaped your lips, a vibrating sound of raw desire as you let yourself be carried away by the passion. The beating of your heart echoed in your head, drowning out any other noise. Sunghoon kissed you with such fervor, as if he were trying to mark you, to make you his in this frenzy of sensations. Each touch was an affirmation of his desire, an act of possession that made you swoon.

His hands slid along your waist, exploring every curve, every contour of your body, while his lips nestled the corner of your mouth with a voracious sweetness. You shuddered under his caresses, unable to resist this burning heat that spread throughout your entire being. The taste of his desire, mixed with the shiver of fear, created an intoxicating cocktail, a dance of pleasure and anguish that set you ablaze.

As he pressed you closer to him, every movement of his lips against yours became more urgent, more desperate. His hands, ever so gently, traced burning paths on your skin, and you let yourself be carried away by this storm of sensations. A tear slid down his cheek, a drop of vulnerability in this passionate dance, and the bitter and salty taste of his emotions mingled with your kiss, intensifying each kiss, each sigh, as if you were merging into a reality where nothing else mattered.

Sunghoon pulled away slightly, but not without resting his forehead against yours, creating a contact that was both intimate and disturbing. The warmth of his skin against yours was electrifying, the hot air of his breath mixing with the breath of your own life, forming a mixture of embrace and intensity that enveloped your bodies. He could feel your heart beating against your chest, a frantic rhythm that harmonized with his, each pulse amplifying the tangible electricity in the air. His dark eye, captivating and full of promise, plunged into yours, reflecting a passion that was both devouring and vulnerable, as if he had already understood that this moment would mark a decisive turning point in your relationship, a passage towards something deeper, more intense.

“What are you doing to me, Y/n?” he asked, his voice husky, almost broken with emotion, each word vibrating with palpable tension. A sigh laden with desire escaped his lips, and you could almost see his eyes light up as he let his hand slide slowly over your waist, skimming the curve of your body with a delicacy that was both tender and possessive. Each touch of his fingers made you shiver, a shiver that ran through you, filling you with a mixture of excitement and fear. It was a delicate dance between the desire to get closer and the fear of losing you.

“I want you to let go…with me,” you whispered, your voice soft as a caress, an irresistible invitation that echoed in the closed space between you. Leaning down slightly, you placed a light kiss on his neck, your lips brushing his warm, tender skin. He shivered under your touch, a muffled moan escaping his throat, like a desperate plea for passion. The gesture, though so simple, awakened a wave of buried desires in him, a fire that burned within him with every second, making him more addicted to you.

You could feel the warmth of his hand slide slowly, wrapping around your waist before moving down to your ass, where he gripped it tightly. His hand closed around your flesh, an act both possessive and irresistible, and you couldn’t help but moan as it vibrated against his neck. The sound, both desperate and hot, resonated within him like an echo of his own unspoken desires. You felt his body tense, shuddering under the weight of the sexual tension that was rising between you, like an impending storm.

Finally, he pulled back slightly, his gaze locked on yours, a playful smile playing on his lips. However, his eyes revealed a hidden depth, a desire that simmered beneath the surface, almost palpable. The last press of his hand on your ass was both possessive and admitted, leaving a bitter taste of unfinished desire on your tongue, a burning memory of his touch. “I don’t want to go to jail for exhibitionism,” he joked softly, his laughter resonating like a haunting melody in your ears. Yet, behind that joke, you could perceive a disturbing depth, a darker reality he wouldn’t admit, a palpable tension between duty and desire, like a taut rope ready to give way at the slightest provocation.

His fingers intertwined with yours, a touch laden with silent promise. The tenderness with which he held your hand warmed you, each caress evoking the intensity of your shared emotions. His thumb slid in circular motions over the back of your hand, sending waves of heat down your arm and making you vibrate with unquenchable excitement. Yet beyond that gentleness, you felt something much darker and more captivating, hidden beneath the surface. A fire burned within him, an unspoken desire, a palpable tension ready to break free at any moment.

You continue to advance in the dark corridors of the aquarium, where the blue glow of the pools intermittently illuminates your skin. These reflections of water seem to capture fragments of your secret thoughts, enveloping you in an almost hypnotic state. Sunghoon's hand, wrapped around yours, is warm, reassuring. With each intertwining of your fingers, the outside world seems to dissolve, leaving only this fragile bubble between you. But suddenly, a dull noise, like a detonation, erupts at the end of the gallery, breaking this moment. You feel him stiffen instantly. It's imperceptible at first, a slight tension that spreads in his grip on your hand, but something darker, more violent, infiltrates him.

Sunghoon stares into space, his dark eye swallowed by a shadow that seems to expand, swallowing the light around him. His face turns livid, the contours of his features distort, and his expression turns into a puppet of fear. Slowly, he releases your hand, but it is to grab it again with a force that surprises you and makes you shiver. His fingers tighten so tightly around yours that sharp pain runs through you, but you don't dare move, as if breaking this contact would risk him collapsing. His lips part without emitting a sound, his breathing panting and irregular, each inhalation a struggle to catch his breath.

He presses his free hand to his chest, fingers clenched, as if trying to tear away an invisible pain that hides beneath his skin. The gesture is brutal, desperate. His chest heaves under the weight of anguish, and you see a solitary tear form in the corner of his eye, rolling slowly down his cheek, tracing a wet furrow on his taut skin. This tear is a reflection of the pain he usually hides under a shell of indifference, and your heart clenches at the sight of him so broken.

You step closer to him, your throat tight, feeling an icy fear creeping through you. This was the second time you’d seen him like this, exposed in a vulnerability that seemed to crush him from the inside. His distress was palpable, a silent storm raging inside him, and you found yourself wanting to absorb every bit of that pain, to become the refuge he desperately sought, to immerse yourself in the darkness that enveloped him to offer him a glimmer of hope.

Gently, you tighten your grip, your palm pressing against his with a firmness filled with tenderness. You slide in front of him, diving your gaze into his, seeking to capture the chaos swirling in his dilated pupils. “Sunghoon…”, you whisper, an infinite sweetness pearling in your voice. Your free hand slowly slides towards his face, and you place the tips of your fingers against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin, the salty wetness of the tear that shakes you more than you would have thought.

Your forehead rests against his, in an infinitely intimate gesture, creating an invisible barrier around you, a cocoon where he can abandon himself without fear of breaking. In this contact, you want him to feel the strength of your love, a love that accepts everything, even the shadows that surround it. You stay like that, your breaths mingling in a shared breath, slow and fragile, while you murmur in a soft and soothing voice: "Breathe with me, Sunghoon... just with me."

He hesitates, his gaze sweeping between your eyes and a distant point, as if he can no longer distinguish the present from his tormented memories. Little by little, under the caress of your words, his hand that is squeezing yours loosens slightly, like a flower that opens timidly to the sun. You continue to slide your fingers against his cheek, tracing tender circles, letting your warmth penetrate his skin. With each movement, you try to comfort him, to free him, until he lets himself go completely, his head leaning further against yours.

When he finally lets out a deep, almost broken breath, you know he's freeing himself from an invisible weight. His lips part again, trembling, and he whispers in a raspy breath, as if each word is tearing a fragment of his soul away: "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to show you this, not here, not now."

At these words, a wave of raw and intense tenderness invades you. He lets you glimpse this part of him that he usually keeps buried, this vulnerability that he tries to hide behind his apparent assurance. Without answering, you slide your hand into his hair, caressing his locks with a gentleness that erases time, your breaths synchronizing in a peaceful rhythm. The touch of your fingers in his hair is both soothing and electrifying, like a silent promise of comfort.

“You have nothing to hide, Sunghoon. I’m here, for all of it. For every part of you, even the ones you think you have to hide.” Your voice is low, each word imbued with that silent promise, etched into Sunghoon’s flesh. You feel him shudder under the weight of that truth. His fingers intertwine more tightly with yours, and his thumb slowly brushes your hand, a fragile, almost unconscious caress, as if he were trying to engrave your presence into his flesh.

Time seems suspended, each second expanding in this silent embrace. You share pain, flaws, a vulnerability that you had never dared to reveal. Each beat of his heart resonates in you, and you feel torn between the anguish of seeing him sink and the desire to keep him close to you. His eye, now clouded with tears, captures your light in an ocean of darkness. In this silence, a fragility is woven between you, a silent promise to stay, to never fail.

Sunghoon, in the throes of inner turmoil, looks at you with an intensity that pierces you. His lips move closer to yours, and you feel the overwhelming urge to kiss him, to seal this moment. You can almost taste the salt of his tears on your mouth as you brush your lips together, a mixture of sweetness and despair.

“Let me be your strength,” you barely whisper, as his hands slide around your waist, pulling you a little closer, erasing the last barriers between you. In that suspended moment, a new understanding is born: the fragility of love, its power and its ability to heal, even in the darkness.

He leans in slightly, and the space between you disappears as your lips meet, joining your breaths, your fears, and your hopes. It’s a tentative kiss at first, like two lost souls searching for their way, but it quickly intensifies, every movement of his lips a promise of solace. You feel his breath mingle with yours, each sigh shared like a confession.

His hands linger on your body, tracing invisible lines, each touch electrifying your skin. He explores, searches, discovers, transforming this pain into something beautiful, alive. In this kiss, he transmits his pain to you, but also his desire, a dark and intoxicating mixture. You feel the pressure of his tongue, timid at first, but which asserts itself little by little, asking for access to your heart.

You answer him, letting your tongue slide against his, a slow, hesitant dance, laden with promises and unspoken passions. Each movement becomes a silent cry, a longing request to surrender to each other, to forget the cruelty of the outside world. You are united in a fight against the darkness, united in a kiss that transcends pain.

Sunghoon slowly detaches his lips from yours, a disturbing heat awakening in the space between you. His eye, dark and deep, clings to yours, seeming to read you like an open book. The rest of the world fades away, the noise of the people around you dissipates, and it's just him and you, in this moment of pure intimacy, this silent promise that you share.

He begins a sensual journey on your face, his lips brushing your skin with a delicacy that makes you shiver. First, he caresses your eyelids, pressing them lightly, as if he wanted to seal a secret between you. His kisses are light, almost shy, but an underlying intensity causes a growing impatience to arise in your stomach. He moves to your nose, his lips tracing a warm and humid path, before lingering on your cheeks, his kisses becoming more insistent, as if to mark every inch of your skin with his touch.

But it’s your lips that he focuses on the longest. When his lips meet yours again, a wave of desire washes over you. The exchange is steamy, filled with palpable tension, every movement of his lips seeming to demand more. His tongue brushes yours, a gesture both possessive and desirous, and you feel a shiver of pleasure run through you, like an electric shock. He pulls back slightly, his hot breath mingling with yours, and the air becomes thick with passion and tension.

“Don’t walk away from me, Y/n,” he whispers, his voice low and husky echoing through the air like a gentle threat. It’s not a simple request, but a veiled command, a promise of intensity that holds you to him. His words are like a chain, heavy with meaning, binding you to him irreversibly. You know he’s not kidding. His presence is omnipresent, and you know that walking away from him would be like running from a storm.

Instinctively, your hand slides to his waist, but you hesitate for a moment, aware of his injury. Yet the need to touch him, to have him close, overrides your reluctance. You press gently, trying to find a balance between desire and caution, and he responds immediately, his hand moving to grasp yours. His fingers wrap around yours, a firm grip that reminds you of his power, but also his vulnerability. His gaze is insistent, almost desperate, as if he’s trying to make sure you stay there, by his side, even in the heart of the storm.

He then leads you towards a small waffle shop in the aquarium, each step seeming like a dance on the edge, a precarious balance between attraction and danger. The dim lights create shadows on your faces, making the atmosphere even more charged with tension. You feel the electricity between you, an almost palpable connection that vibrates in the air.

As you walk through the door of the store, you’re greeted by the sweet smell of waffles, a stark contrast to the intensity of the moment before. But even that sweet smell seems to be tarnished by the warmth of his body next to yours. Sunghoon doesn’t let go of your gaze, his eye glinting with a feral glow, his impassive face masking a burning desire.

“You know,” he says, his voice deep, each word resonating with an unsettling intensity, “sometimes I wonder how far you’re willing to go for me.” The question hangs in the air, heavy with meaning and ambiguity. You feel a shiver run through you, excitement mixed with fear. His voice is a whisper, but it resonates like an ultimatum in your head. You can’t ignore the shadow of menace hanging over his words, the idea that there are no limits to him.

The salesman calls you, but the noise seems distant. You are lost in Sunghoon's gaze, where unspoken desires and dark secrets mix. His gaze is an abyss into which you could easily fall, and a part of you is terrified at the idea of discovering what he expects from you. Anxiety and desire mix in your stomach, creating a tension that leaves you speechless.

He orders a waffle for the both of you, his gaze never leaving yours, and you feel a wave of adrenaline rush through you. The intimacy of this moment is overwhelming, every second a mixture of excitement and fear, pleasure and pain. When the waffle arrives, he takes it in his hand, but doesn't take his eyes off of you. You can see the tension in his muscles, like he's about to break, every movement both controlled and desperate.

“Want a taste?” he asks, his voice low, each word sliding over your skin like a caress. He brings the waffle to you, but his eyes never leave yours, the air heavy with unspoken promises. In that moment, anything seems possible, and you realize that this isn’t just about dessert, but a power play, a dance between desire and domination.

As you take a bite, the sweet flavors explode in your mouth, but you are aware of Sunghoon's overwhelming presence, his gaze scanning you, analyzing every movement, every reaction. He needs to know that you are his, that you belong to him.

When you finally pull away from the waffle, the sweet taste and creamy texture of the whipped cream mix with the scent of Sunghoon surrounding you. You are aware of every movement of your tongue, every brush of your lips, as if each gesture is an invitation. As you bring your hand to your mouth to clean the corner of your lip, you are interrupted by a gentle but firm grip on your wrist. Sunghoon, with his burning gaze, draws you towards him with an authority that makes you shudder.

“Let me do it,” he whispers, and his voice is a mixture of velvet and danger. He leans forward, his night-dark eye staring at you with an intensity that makes you swoon. There’s nothing pure about this moment, only a raw, palpable desire that hangs in the air between you. His warm, wet tongue slides over the corner of your lips, a touch so intimate it makes every fiber of your being vibrate. The shiver that runs through your body makes you moan, an involuntary sound, an instinctive reaction to this mixture of shame and pleasure. The world around you fades, every whisper, every snicker becoming insignificant background noise in the face of this sensual dance you share.

Sunghoon pulls out slowly, savoring every second, and with a confident gesture, he brings your finger to his lips. The innocence of the gesture is disturbed by the way he sucks it, his warm mouth enveloping your finger with disconcerting sensuality. He removes the slightest trace of whipped cream, and you can see the satisfaction shining in his eye, a glint of arrogance that makes your heart beat faster.

“Sunghoon… we’re in public,” you whisper, your voice a mix of disapproval and excitement. Each syllable is laced with hesitation, but the heat in his gaze makes you doubt your own desire to stop. The heat in your skin spikes, aware of the stares of a few customers watching you. Their eyes slide over you, curious, and you feel a wave of vulnerability mixed with an intoxicating arousal. It’s as if, in this room, you’re the only ones who exist, surrounded by noise and color, but enclosed in a bubble of desire.

Sunghoon, unfazed, removes your finger from his mouth with casual nonchalance and places a kiss on the palm of your hand, a gesture that makes you shiver. The simple touch, mixed with the warmth of his skin against yours, floods you with a wave of confused emotions: the fear of excess, the excitement of risk, the insatiable desire for what might come next. His smile is both innocent and laden with obscene promise, a reflection of the underlying tension that boils between you.

“As long as we don’t fuck in front of them, princess, I don’t care,” he says, his voice smooth as satin, but with an underlying edge. His words hang in the air, creating an electrifying atmosphere where each whisper seems to resonate with a new intensity. You swallow, feeling a mixture of shame and arousal wash over you. His gaze, still fixed on yours, leaves no room for ambiguity. He knows what he’s doing, and he knows how it makes you feel.

Sunghoon brings the waffle to his lips, biting slowly at the exact spot where you left the mark of your teeth, almost with a perverse reverence. The gesture, simple in appearance, is charged with a striking heaviness, as if he is capturing a fragment of you, appropriating a part of your essence. Your heart races, feeling the dull tension settle in, a promise of something darker, more visceral. His gaze catches yours, intense, penetrating, and a serious smile stretches his lips as he murmurs softly: “It’s delicious.”

He holds the waffle out to you, forcing you to accept the almost sacred offering. Hesitantly, you bite into the spot where he left his imprint, your gazes clashing in a silent dance of possession and vulnerability. You feel your heart pounding in your chest, gripped by an oppressive heat. A mischievous wink escapes your eyes, but you see him blush slightly, a reaction so rare for him that it almost makes you laugh. You bite your lip to stifle a chuckle, amused by this apparent vulnerability that he clumsily tries to hide.

“You’re so adorable, Sunghoon,” you tell him in a breath, the words sliding softly, almost ironic, given the dark storm brewing between you. At these words, a slight shiver crosses his features. A deeper blush invades his cheeks, and you see him look away, his hand instinctively rising to run through his hair, as a gesture of defense against this compliment that seems to destabilize him.

Yet beneath that slight embarrassment, there’s something else. Something darker, more painful, hidden in the shadows of his gaze. He stares at you again, his eyes burning with an almost bestial intensity, as if, in this moment, you’re all that’s still keeping him anchored to this reality. He leans forward slightly, sliding an uncertain hand towards your face, his fingers delicately brushing the outline of your lips curved into a smile. The touch is so gentle, so careful, but also desperate, as if he’s trying to etch that smile into his memory, to capture that moment before it fades.

Unable to resist the impulse inside you, you place a light kiss on the tip of his finger. This simple contact seems to trigger a tidal wave of emotions in him. Sunghoon closes his eye, inhaling deeply, as if to smother the fire burning inside him. When he opens it again, his gaze is veiled, filled with a sorrow that he tries to hide under a fragile smile.

“I love your smile,” he says softly, almost like a whisper, his voice betraying a tiny tremor. His fingers slide gently from your lips to your cheek, where he strokes your skin with a tender thumb, his gestures oscillating between an almost possessive tenderness and an underlying pain. The way he watches you, as if every second spent with you costs him a part of his soul, makes you feel a strange weight, an inexplicable unease that grips you.

Then his hand moves down again, sliding along the back of your neck, where he exerts a gentle but undeniable pressure, a gesture of subtle control, as if he wants to keep you close to him, to bind you to him, even if it has to be through pain. Your breath catches for a moment, feeling the weight of his emotions, the tormented storm playing out behind his mask.

“I want you to be like this forever… happy,” he says in a low, almost broken voice. You sense that behind this statement lies a much darker truth, a fear that eats away at him from the inside. He looks at you like someone looks at something unattainable, a treasure he fears he won’t be able to preserve. A shadow of despair passes through his eyes, a sadness that seems endless. What he doesn’t tell you, what he doesn’t dare admit, is that, for him, every moment shared is an internal battle, a conflict between his desire to make you happy and the certainty that he will never be the one to truly fill your heart.

In his mind, fleeting images of a lonely future emerge, visions of a world where you are no longer here, where you have found a peace he could never give you. He already imagines the day you decide to leave, when he will be forced to let you go so that you can find the happiness he thinks he can never give you. The thought consumes him, a cold, piercing pain that sinks like a dagger into his chest, tearing at every fiber of his being.

“I’ll smile so much for you that it will annoy you,” you reply, gently squeezing his hand, seeing the storm that ravages his soul. Your worry, your innocent sweetness, lights up his face for a moment, but it only reinforces the contrast with the abyss he finds himself in. Behind his fragile smile hides an unfathomable sadness, a loneliness that has always accompanied him. Since childhood, he has learned to hide his emotions, to erect walls to protect himself from blows, but your presence threatens to break down each barrier, exposing the scars that mark his heart.

Sunghoon knows, deep down, that this happiness he feels by your side is fleeting. He watches you like you contemplate a dream that you know will eventually evaporate. His heart bleeds with every smile you give him, with every tender look, because he understands that, sooner or later, reality will catch up with him. The fear of being abandoned, this visceral fear, anchored in him since forever, mixes with a devouring love, a passion that consumes him, but which, he knows, will end up costing him everything he has.

So he grabs you, holds you tighter against him, as if to etch you into his memory, to capture this moment before it disappears into nothingness. His fingers dig into your skin, his gaze fixed on you with an almost desperate intensity, as if he wanted to possess you completely, to keep you anchored to him by the force of his will alone.

Every moment spent with you is a sweet agony, a sublime pain that he savors while dreading the inevitable end. Sunghoon knows he is losing himself, but he is ready to sacrifice every bit of his soul to stay by your side. Because for him, loving you means accepting to burn himself, to destroy himself, to abandon himself to the darkness that eats away at him.

In the boxing gym, the air was thick with sweat and that dull, palpable tension that vibrated with every punch Sunghoon threw. The neon lights flickered faintly above him, barely illuminating his face marked by fatigue and a consuming rage. Facing him, Jay remained impassive, holding the punching bag tightly and absorbing the violent shocks that echoed in the empty room. Sunghoon's gloves came down with brute force, each impact spreading through his arms, burning his knuckles. He punched again and again, desperate to extract this anger that consumed him.

His movements were mechanical, almost frantic, as if each blow was aimed at erasing something buried, something he didn't dare face. His breathing was jerky, each breath carrying away a fragment of the pain he hid under a mask of coldness. But Jay saw beyond that. He perceived that tormented glint in Sunghoon's eyes, that shadow of sadness mixed with rage. He knew what this fight against Heeseung meant to him.

Sunghoon redoubled his efforts, his fists hitting the bag with desperate intensity. With each blow, the memories resurfaced, relentless, taking him back to that moment when everything had collapsed, when Heeseung's betrayal had left a gaping wound in his heart. The face of his former best friend haunted his mind, fueling his rage.

“So, are you ready to face Heeseung in a month?” Jay’s voice rang out like a challenge in the silent room. He could sense that Sunghoon was on the verge of exploding, that a simple provocation would be enough to shatter the façade of control he was trying to maintain.

At Heeseung's name, Sunghoon punched the bag even harder, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning with suppressed fury. "Heeseung is nothing more than another man," he replied, his voice shaking with anger. He paused for a moment, his breath short, staring at the bag as if he saw the face of his former friend there.

Jay remained silent, his sharp eyes observing every emotion that crossed Sunghoon's face. He knew that this hatred was not a simple rivalry; it reflected a deep wound, a broken friendship that left scars more painful than any blow.

“Is that really what you want to believe?” Jay’s voice cut through the silence, calm but relentless. He loosened his grip on the bag slightly, forcing Sunghoon to stop, to face a reality he was desperate to escape. Jay had that look that saw beyond appearances, that could discern truths that even Sunghoon refused to admit.

“You can convince yourself all you want, but it’s not Heeseung you’re fighting. It’s yourself, what you’ve been feeling since he abandoned you.” Jay’s words hit Sunghoon where his pain was hidden, where that gaping wound continued to bleed.

Those words made him falter. He looked away, his fists unclenching slightly, the gloves slipping from his shaking hands. Sweat trickled down his face, but it wasn’t just physical exhaustion that was weakening him anymore; it was that visceral pain, that feeling of abandonment that never left him. Heeseung hadn’t just been a friend, he’d been a pillar, and his betrayal had left him adrift in a sea of bitterness and loneliness.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Sunghoon muttered in a faint voice, the words struggling to come out. A bitter smile played on his lips, a smile that couldn’t hide the sadness in his eyes. “He’s just another opponent to beat.”

Jay shook his head slowly, without a word. He knew that Sunghoon was not ready to face this truth, that he was hiding behind this facade to escape the pain. But he also saw this fragility, this crack in his armor. Sunghoon could pretend that Heeseung no longer mattered, but deep down, this loss continued to haunt him, to consume him. Each blow was just a desperate attempt to forget, to free himself from this crushing weight.

Sunghoon felt Jay's gaze pierce through him, exposing his weaknesses, his fears. He turned away, grabbing a bandage for his bloodied hands, his fingers trembling slightly. He tightened the bandage tightly, as if to contain the pain that threatened to overwhelm him.

Jay stepped closer and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, a gesture heavy with meaning and filled with silent compassion. “You know, Sunghoon, facing Heeseung won’t change anything if you’re not willing to face what he’s awakened in you. It’s not hatred that will make you stronger, but what you choose to do with it.”

Sunghoon stood there for a moment, staring into space as Jay's words seeped into him like a slow poison. Each sentence had struck a chord, each word had awakened a pain in him that he had tried to bury under layers of anger and contempt. Jay was right. But admitting that truth was a chasm he didn't dare cross yet.

He released a shaky sigh, like a weight breaking silently. Then he straightened up, trying to regain that mask of coldness. But he knew that Jay had seen through him, that this man standing before him knew the depth of his wounds, even the ones he didn't dare name.

“Why do you do this, Jay?” His voice was low, almost hoarse, as if each word cost a superhuman effort. “Why do you insist on bringing me back to this, on reminding me… of what I want to forget?”

Jay watched him in silence, his eyes filled with a gravity and a melancholic sweetness. He didn't look away, giving Sunghoon all the space for his anger, for his questions, for this weakness that he tried to hide. He waited a moment, as if to let the question seep into the silence of the room, before answering.

“Because you deserve to be free of this, Sunghoon,” Jay whispered, his voice low and calm. “Because as long as you remain a prisoner of this hatred, of this pain, Heeseung will continue to have power over you, even if it’s absent. And that’s worse than any defeat.”

Jay's words hung in the air, heavy with truth, imbued with that relentless realism that left no escape. Sunghoon felt something break inside him, a piece of his soul he had held prisoner for too long. He felt a strange mixture of rage and relief, a silent storm that shook him from the inside, making him vulnerable, almost fragile under Jay's piercing gaze.

He looked away, staring at an invisible point on the ground, trying to gather his thoughts, to calm the fury that pulsed through his veins. He took a deep breath, his shoulders heaving with the effort, before whispering in an almost inaudible voice:

"He should never have betrayed me."

The words, simple and direct, echoed in the room, filling the space with a painful intensity. Behind that sentence, there was all the pain, all the incomprehension, all the weight of a broken friendship. Jay knew it, he had always known it. This betrayal had left invisible scars, wounds that Sunghoon had never been able to heal.

Jay approached him, his hand still on his shoulder, a gesture that, despite its apparent gentleness, carried an unwavering firmness. He spoke with a calculated slowness, as if to ensure that every word would be heard, understood, and accepted.

“We don’t always choose who hurts us, or how they hurt us,” Jay says. “But we can choose how we rebuild ourselves afterward. This fight against Heeseung… It’s not just revenge. It’s a chance to show that you’re stronger than this betrayal, that you won’t let it define who you are.”

Sunghoon closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm the conflicting emotions that were raging inside him. Jay's voice continued to echo in his mind, each word seeping into the cracks of his heart, awakening that part of him that he had long suppressed.

When he opened his eyes again, he met Jay's gaze, and for the first time, he didn't try to hide his vulnerability. His eyes were bright, filled with a poignant melancholy, and his voice, when he spoke, bore traces of an old fatigue, almost resigned.

“I tried to rebuild myself,” he whispered. “I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter anymore, that I could move on without him… but this rage, this hatred… it’s all I have left.”

Jay nodded slowly, understanding the depth of this confession. He knew that Sunghoon had built his identity around this anger, that every blow he threw was a desperate attempt to convince himself that this hatred could fill the void left by Heeseung. But he also knew that this road led nowhere, that this spiral of resentment would eventually consume him.

“Then let her go,” Jay replied, his voice almost a whisper, but with a strength that seemed to fill all space. “Let that rage go, and find who you really are, Sunghoon. Not the fighter consumed by hatred, but the man who deserves to live without being haunted by the past.”

Jay's words seeped into him like a balm, bringing a gentle yet painful warmth. Sunghoon felt his fists slowly unclench, his breathing calming, as if a weight he had been carrying for years had finally lifted.

He turned to Jay, his gaze filled with silent gratitude, a recognition that went beyond words. Maybe this fight with Heeseung wouldn't be the end of his quest for redemption, but he knew now that he could find a beginning there, a starting point to free himself from his inner demons.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. He wasn't yet ready to forgive, to forget, but he knew he was no longer alone in this struggle. Jay, silent, understood him. He offered him this stable presence, this unwavering compassion, and in that moment, in that cold, dark room, Sunghoon felt, for the first time in a long time, a little more at peace.

The door had barely closed behind Sunghoon when the air in the room seemed to condense, heavy with a palpable tension. You looked at him, but he was no longer the distant man you had come to know, nor even the one you loved despite his flaws. Tonight, he was different, like a shadow of himself, haunted by something deeper, darker. The air was saturated with an unspoken need, and you could almost hear your heart beating in the oppressive silence.

He stood there, motionless, almost frozen, fighting an impulse he could barely contain. His eyes, dark and piercing, were fixed on you, burning with an intensity that made you shiver. A wave of conflicting emotions passed through you. You knew this feeling, this mixture of fear and desire, repulsion and attraction. But tonight, it was stronger, almost unbearable, as if something primitive was awakening between you.

“Sunghoon,” you whispered, trying to break the heavy silence. But no sooner had you said his name than he started moving, like a predator let loose in the wild.

In a split second, he was in front of you, so close that you could feel the heat of his body radiating against yours, like a fire burning in the night. His breath, short and irregular, brushed against your skin, making you arch under his weight. He enveloped you in his presence, a devouring shadow that paralyzed you. You could feel the tension emanating from him, every muscle vibrating with contained energy, ready to explode.

His hands rested on your arms with a measured, almost delicate force, but you could feel the tension in his fingers, as if he was fighting not to grab you more roughly. Each touch sent you into a whirlwind of emotions, a mixture of excitement and anxiety. He was like a storm, and you were calm inside, but that calm would not last.

“I… I don’t know who I am anymore,” he blurted out, his voice hoarse, broken by an emotion he never wanted to show you again. He leaned closer, his forehead brushing yours, and you felt his hands slide from your arms to your waist, pulling you into a hug that nearly took your breath away. There was an urgency in his movements, a desperate need to possess you.

At that moment, the outside world disappeared. There was only the two of you, isolated in a space saturated with electricity. His hands slowly snuck along your waist, exploring every curve of your body, tracing paths of fire on your skin. You could feel his need, his thirst, and this intensity awakened in you a burning desire, but also a dull fear. What would happen if you gave in to this temptation in his state?

“I see you… I feel you,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear in a hot, almost possessive breath. “Don’t leave me… Don’t push me away.”

He moved closer, his hands sliding down your back, his fingers tracing lines of fire on your skin, triggering an uncontrollable shiver. It wasn't a simple caress, it was a claim, a way of reminding you that you belonged to him, that you were his. All his. Your body tensed under the pressure, torn between the desire to flee and the desire to answer this primal call.

There was something dangerous in the way he looked at you, in the way he touched you, and you knew that part of you was afraid of it. But another part, darker, deeper, let itself be drawn to this intensity, attracted by this destructive force that emanated from him.

“Tell me,” he whispered again, his voice almost pleading, filled with an unsettling vulnerability. “Tell me you’re here. That you won’t leave.” His hands tightened on your skin, his fingers digging into your flesh with an almost painful force, but you didn’t struggle. You didn’t want to run. Not now.

“I’m here,” you whispered, your voice trembling, barely more than a breath. “I’m not leaving, Sunghoon.”

At these words, you felt his body relax slightly against yours, as if he had finally found a semblance of peace. But this peace was fragile, ephemeral, and you could still feel the storm rumbling under his skin. He held you against him with such force that you had the impression that he was trying to merge you with him, as if he feared that you would disappear at any moment. His lips, which had until then grazed your skin without ever really settling, finally slid over your neck, tracing a burning line that made you gasp. It was not a tender gesture, it was a mark of possession.

“You belong to me,” he whispered against your skin, his voice both soft and terribly assertive. “And I won’t let you go. Ever.”

There was a finality in his words that made you shudder. You knew he meant it. To him, you were more than just a person in his life. You had become an obsession, an anchor in his inner storm. The intensity of his desire, his possessiveness, was both terrifying and intoxicating. You knew none of this was healthy, that this relationship, so intense, had long since passed the limits of what was normal. Yet, despite everything, a part of you wanted to believe that you could help him, that you could be the one to calm this rage that was boiling inside him.

His hands slowly moved up your back, still holding you tightly against him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath caressing your skin. The scent of his perfume mixed with that of sweat and adrenaline enveloped the air, making the situation even more intoxicating. You could feel the heat of his body, the tension in his muscles, and that electric energy that vibrated between you.

Every move was a struggle for him, an effort to not give in entirely to the darkness that was eating away at him from the inside. You knew his desire was fueled by pain, anger, and that simmering rage that was bubbling beneath his surface. It terrified you as much as it fascinated you.

He pulled you even closer, if that was possible, his body pressed against yours with such force that you could feel every beat of his heart, every gasping breath he took. The intensity of the moment was almost suffocating, and you could feel the adrenaline pulsing through your veins, pushing you to react, to embrace this unquenchable desire.

In this whirlwind of emotions, a part of you felt guilty for being so attracted to him, but that guilt was quickly drowning in the ocean of passion and desperation that united you. His hands roamed your body with a devastating certainty, as if he sought to possess you not only physically, but also spiritually. The shivers that his touch caused in you were both delicious and disturbing, and you let yourself be carried away, blinded by this moment.

Sunghoon was a broken man, and you knew that came at a cost. But in his eyes, you also saw a glimmer of hope, a quest for redemption that he couldn’t admit, even to himself. It was this inner struggle that fascinated you, that made you addicted to him, to his intensity. You were two lost souls, seeking refuge in each other’s chaos, desperate to find some semblance of peace in the midst of the storm.

The beat of his heart pounded against your chest, and in that suspended moment, you knew there was no turning back. A line had been crossed, and there was no going back. The future was uncertain, but what you shared in that moment was real, visceral, and terribly beautiful in its dark obscenity.

“Let me use you, Y/n… I need it.” His voice rose softly, almost like a whisper, but the words were charged with raw intensity. His lips brushed your delicate skin, each touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your body. His hot breath against your neck made you shiver, a visceral desire stirring within you, insistent and insatiable. He nibbled gently at your skin, his teeth leaving burning marks, each caress igniting a flame of voracious passion deep within you.

Your heart raced as you slid your arm around his muscular back, pressing your body against his, unable to resist the irresistible call. Nodding slowly, you watched the change in his gaze: a wild, possessive glint lit up in his eyes, a promise of a night of unbridled pleasure that captivated you. His eyes sparkled with primal need, and you knew that what he felt for you went beyond simple attraction.

In one fluid motion, he lifted you effortlessly, his strong arms encircling your body with an authority that made you vibrate with excitement. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him close as he led you to your room, each step building the anticipation. The air was thick with desire, each second that passed making you crave his touch even more. When he set you down on the bed, the feel of the mattress beneath your back was both comforting and electrifying, an invitation to abandon all reserve.

Sunghoon was on top of you, his body positioning itself with a dominance that you found both intoxicating and terrifying. You felt vulnerable, but also burning with desire, ready to dive into this dark intimacy. Your gaze plunged into his eyes, troubled by a devouring passion, as if he were seeking to pierce the secrets buried deep within your soul. He kissed your cheek, his warm lips sliding against your skin, leaving a shiver down your spine.

His hands moved forward, eagerly searching for the fabric of your top. As he began to remove it, his cold fingers brushed your skin, triggering a shiver of pleasure and anticipation. With calculated delicacy, he removed your top, revealing your bare skin to the dim light of the room. His hungry gaze scanned every curve of your body, as if he was trying to etch this image into his mind, to remember for the rest of his life.

Pulling away for a moment, he slid down slowly, his tongue brushing your skin, tracing hot lines across your stomach. You felt a wave of heat flood your body, a quivering anticipation enveloping you. He pulled off your sweatpants with delicious slowness, leaving you completely exposed, your nakedness offering itself to his insatiable desire. The tension in the air was palpable as he admired your body, a possessive devotion emanating from him.

Without warning, he turned you around abruptly, placing you on all fours, making your vulnerability even more palpable, a submission that you embraced. He smacked your ass with controlled force, the sound echoing in the room like a call for obedience. A soft gasp escaped your lips, a wave of pleasure mixed with pain settling deep within you, a delicious confusion of sensations. His nails dug into the tender flesh of your skin, his attention on your ass growing more intense, almost possessive, as if he were marking his territory.

A moan escaped your lips, then a cry of pleasure as he smacked your ass again, the delicious pain causing an overwhelming surge of arousal. “You’re so wet for me, princess, you’ve wanted my cock for a long time, haven’t you?” His voice, soft and playful, mingled with the palpable tension, each word resonating within you like an echo of shared desire. He watched the arousal slide down your thigh, his gaze lingering on your skin and the liquid, intensifying his desire with deliberate skill.

“Sunghoon… take me, don’t keep me waiting,” you whispered, your voice trembling, thick with ardor and desperation, each syllable a torture of impatience. You felt his laughter echo behind you, a promise of imminent pleasure, a delicious threat of what was to come. The sound of his clothes being torn reached your ears, and the anticipation made you vibrate from head to toe. When he finally placed his tip against your intimacy, a shiver of excitement ran through you, making you aware of every detail of this encounter.

“I’m not going to be gentle, princess,” he growled, and in one sudden motion, he thrust into you. The sensation was intense, almost overwhelming, a wave of ecstasy washing over you as you felt your stomach and vagina buckle under the impact. A moan escaped your lips, both a cry of pain and a cry of pleasure, a symphony of conflicting sensations that left you panting. He grabbed you firmly by the hip, his fingers digging into your flesh, and you were caught between ecstasy and pain as he began to move inside you, his thrusts becoming more and more powerful, almost brutal, making you lose all sense of time.

His nails dug into your flesh as you desperately clung to the sheets of the bed, your breathing erratic, almost desperate. Every movement of his body against yours caused a whirlwind of emotions, and you felt yourself losing yourself in the warmth of his embrace. His pace was relentless, almost wild, each thrust making you cry out in pleasure, each impact bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy. The room was filled with the sounds of skin against skin, moans and panting breaths, a chaotic melody of unquenchable desire that consumed you both.

Sunghoon leaned down, his tongue grazing your skin, tracing hot lines on your back, each movement both gentle and devastating. His breath was hot and heavy against your skin, each moan you let out giving him more power over you, intensifying his already voracious desire. He pushed even deeper, each thrust piercing you, making you lose all sense of reality, almost making you drunk. The room became a world of its own, a sanctuary of passion where every shudder of his body against yours became a declaration of his desire.

Each thrust seemed to resonate through every fiber of your being, sending you into a spiral of ecstasy. You felt like you were burning from the inside out, eager to explode, to reach that apotheosis that seemed so close and yet so far away. His pace became frantic, a wild dance between pain and pleasure as you clutched at the sheets, your voice echoing in the darkness, a mixture of pleas and cries of pleasure.

“I want more of you, princess.” Sunghoon moaned, his voice husky and eager, vibrating through the air thick with palpable tension. The way he said the words consumed you, each syllable resonating like a drum to the frantic rhythm of your heart. There was a promise of all-consuming pleasure in his tone, one you yearned for. His burning gaze lingered on you, a flame in his eyes that stirred buried instincts.

He grabbed your hair in a firm grip, his fingers digging into your locks with a force that was both sweet pain and delectable submission. The back of your skull flexed slightly under the pressure, plunging you into a state of exhilarating vulnerability. The pain on your scalp stirred a delicious resonance within you, an anticipation that made you shiver with desire. The sensations mingled, and you knew you were about to be swept away into his world.

A strangled cry escapes your lips, a sound you can’t control as he arches your back, lifting your body to offer you entirely to him. The tension in the air is electrifying, a static charge that makes you feel alive. You feel the overwhelming heat of his body close to yours, his firm, powerful muscles pressed against your skin, making you aware of every inch of his surface. He leans closer, his hot breath caressing your neck, sending shivers through your being. “Moan louder for me,” he whispers, each word stimulating your soul, a command you’re ready to follow.

His voice, soft and commanding, envelops you, awakening a primal need in you, a need to abandon all barriers. “I want to hear everything… I want to know how good I make you feel.” His demand, both possessive and greedy, resonates in your mind like an intoxicating melody. The way he looks at you, with a mixture of pain and love, makes you shiver, aware of your role and your place in this obscene exchange.

You are overwhelmed by this need to please him, to be his object of desire. He lets his tongue slide slowly over the sweat that beads on your skin, each caress causing a shiver of pleasure. His delicate gestures contrast with the brutality of his intentions, a dance between gentleness and violence that slowly consumes you. The sensation of his tongue on your skin is both soothing and exhilarating, like a burning fire that spreads through your body, burning every fiber of your being. Each movement is loaded with obscene promises, and you feel your heart beating wildly, excitement and fear merging into a unique melody of ecstasy.

He begins to suckle at your skin, nibbling gently but with an intensity that makes you shudder in anticipation. His lips, hot and eager, slide down your body, awakening torrid sensations that spread from your neck to your spine. With each movement, he sinks deeper into you, your heat enveloping him, making you moan louder. Those moans, an exquisite mix of pleasure and pain, turn into a primal scream, a scream that testifies to your total surrender to his unbridled desires. It’s an instinctive reaction, a response to the wild nature of what’s unfolding between you.

His fingers grip your hair, tugging harder to pull your face towards him, forcing your gaze to meet his. You’re at his mercy, completely submissive to his desire, and that vulnerability excites you in a way you’ve never experienced before. Every breath feels heavier, every beat of your heart echoing like a war drum in the tense air. Sunghoon’s lips slide down to your neck, nibbling with delicious precision, and you swallow slowly, shivering under his touch. A mixture of excitement and fear pulses through your veins, like a sweet, addictive drug.

He intensifies his movements, spreading your walls, reaching depths you didn't even know were possible. The feeling of his manhood swelling inside you is breathtaking, an explosion of sensations that plunges you into a world where only his body exists. The stars dance before your eyes, a dazzling glow, accompanying your moans of pleasure and anguish. Each blow resonates inside you like a shockwave, pushing you further into the abyss of ecstasy, each impact vibrating the strings of your desire.

“Sunghoon… oh my God! You fuck me so good!” You cry out, your voice a mixture of pleasure and desperation, each syllable a confession of your total surrender. Tears stream down your cheeks, testifying to the intensity of your sensations, a mixture of delicious pain and immeasurable pleasure. You feel both freed and trapped in this whirlwind of emotions, a contradiction within you that you cannot ignore. He pushes you roughly onto the bed, withdrawing from you for a moment, leaving a painful void that makes you moan at the loss of this essential connection. This withdrawal, far from being a punishment, reminds you of the depth of your desire for him, a depth that you had never dared to imagine.

“Don’t stop… please.” Your voice trembles, weak and cracked, the plea evident in every word. You lean into him, desperate to regain his touch, pressing your ass against his hardness. But he pushes you back slightly, a defiant smile on his lips, a smirk that expresses the complete control he exerts over you. This power play, this dynamic between you, excites you in ways you never thought possible, a dangerous dance on the edge of the abyss.

“You’re such a slut to me, Y/n.” His voice is full of delight, each word sliding over your skin like a caress, as the smack of your ass echoes through the room as he hits you. The blow, though painful, is tinged with a voluptuousness that you can’t ignore. The burning pleasure of this humiliation makes you moan, and when his manhood enters you again, a cry of bliss passes your lips. Your body arches, welcoming this intrusion with greed, every fiber of your being resonating in unison with his desire, a desire that consumes you.

He presses your head into the pillows with one hand, pinning your face, while the other slides under your stomach, pulling you up slightly. The movements start slowly, each stroke a mixture of gentle and brutal, a hypnotic rhythm that seems to resonate in every fiber of your being. Your moans are muffled by the mattress as he pushes your head deeper and deeper into the bed, making you lose all sense of time and reality. The outside world disappears, leaving only the intensity of this shared moment, the fusion of your bodies like a sacred dance, a communion in pain and pleasure.

“I’ll never stop,” he declares with a savage determination, a promise of submission and power. The blows grow more powerful, each impact resonating in your flesh like a violent melody, a symphony of pain and pleasure. His nails dig into the tender flesh of your stomach, marking your body with his imprint, each pressure making you moan louder, like a war chant. The pain becomes a caress, and you know you’re at his mercy, each sensation intensifying the obscene bond between you.

You tighten around him, your body pulsing with every movement, each thrust making him sink deeper into you. “Fuck, you’re clenching tighter around me, princess,” he says, increasing his pressure on your stomach, making you feel every inch of his manhood. The thrusts become more intense, each movement pushing you to the edge of ecstasy.

The pace becomes frantic, every movement of his body against yours a declaration of power and possession. You feel your body react, contorting around him, and a cry of pleasure escapes your lips as you reach the limits of your own pain and pleasure, lost in an ocean of sensations. Each wave overwhelms you until you can no longer distinguish where pleasure begins and pain ends. In this trance, you are both the witness and the protagonist of this torrid encounter, aware of the ecstasy that builds with each second.

Your mind drifts, each blow transporting you further into oblivion, a whirlwind of pleasure and pain that drags you to a point of no return. The walls of the room blur, the outside world fades away, leaving only him and you, bound by this obscene and passionate bond. Each second becomes an eternity, a dance where you are both the dancer and the puppet, entirely at his mercy.

Breathless, you feel the orgasm looming on the horizon, a storm of sensations that threatens to engulf you. Every movement, every thrust brings you a little closer to this explosive denouement, a release of all the accumulated tensions. Your body is on fire, consumed by desire, and as the orgasm approaches, you know you are ready to let yourself be carried away, to dive into this abyss of pleasure and pain that he has created for you.

In a final thrust, as the pressure reaches its peak, your body arches, and you scream his name, a cry that mixes pain and bliss. It's a primal scream, a total release, and in that moment, you know you are truly his, entirely, without reserve. The wave of pleasure carries you away, submerges you, and in this sea of sensations, you finally find peace, a fragile balance between love, pain, and pleasure.

Sunghoon doesn’t slow his pace, even after the orgasm has rocked your body, leaving you panting, your breathing erratic and panting. His movements are brutal, filled with a savage intensity that vibrates every fiber of your being. He continues to bury your head into the pillows, plunging you into a damp darkness where only the sound of his hips slapping against your ass resonates. This sound is the echo of his power, a primal rhythm that resonates in your flesh, awakening an animal desire that engulfs you.

His fingers, large and powerful, explore your stomach, slowly descending towards your waist which he grips with force, as if he wanted to anchor you in this carnal reality that he imposes. The heat of his hand on your skin is both a caress and a threat. You feel the fire spreading under his fingers, an insatiable desire that consumes you. Your stomach contracts under his hand, each movement of his body reminding you that you are completely his, that you belong to him absolutely.

A guttural growl escapes his throat, an expression of bestial pleasure that intensifies with each thrust. He thrusts into you with such vigor that pain mixes with pleasure, each stroke making you gasp, your body arching involuntarily to accommodate him deeper. Each thrust is a mix of force and sensuality, a wild dance between submission and power. You are aware of every fiber of your body, the tingles that run through your skin, the adrenaline that pulses through your veins. The sheets of the bed are pulled back in a chaotic mess, testifying to the intensity of his assaults, and you feel yourself sucked into the mattress with each impact, as if you become an integral part of this space, an extension of his desire.

When his come washes over you, it’s like a surge of heat and dominance. His heavy body collapses onto yours, his muscles pressing against your back, holding you firmly against him. You feel the heat of his breath sliding down your neck, mingling with the sweat that beads on your skin. The contact makes you shiver, each breath punctuated by moans of satisfaction. You realize that you’re seeking this warmth, this connection, this feeling of fullness that only he can give you.

Sunghoon pulls out slowly, his manhood sliding out of you with a wet sound, before turning you around with disconcerting speed, placing you in front of him like a puppet at his mercy. The intimacy of this position makes you feel a mixture of vulnerability and arousal, a palpable tension vibrating in the air between you. You feel the mixture of your fluids escaping your body, a tangible reminder of the heat of your embrace. Sunghoon grips your jaw in his hands, his fingers squeezing your skin with undeniable possessiveness. He wants to make sure you belong to him, that you are fully aware of his hold on you.

His eyes bore into yours, brimming with a darkness that made you tremble. Their depth was both hypnotic and threatening, an abyss where you could lose yourself. He stepped closer, his mouth brushing yours, his warm, luscious lips promising you something intense, something delicious. When his warm, wet tongue slid over your lips, a wave of desire washed over you, a promise of what was to come.

You open your mouth, inviting him in, thirsty for what he has to offer. His tongue wraps around yours with delicious fervor, exploring every corner of your mouth. The movements of his tongue are both dominating and tender, creating a perfect blend of power and sensuality. He explores your mouth with expert mastery, his gestures becoming more and more demanding, as if he wants to take you into a hypnotic dance.

His tongue slides against yours, finding its way into every nook and cranny, creating a connection that transcends a simple kiss. He begins to suck tenderly at your flesh, his teeth delicately grazing your lips, adding a new dimension to what he’s doing to you. The sensations intensify; each pull, each squeeze makes you moan quietly, a melody of need and pleasure rising between you. The taste of him and the two of you mingled explodes on your tongue, a fusion that awakens deeply buried instincts.

His lips are warm and soft, but also possessive, marking their territory on your flesh. With each movement, you feel the desire intensify, making you capsize in an ocean of sensations. His kisses become a clash, a dance between softness and brutality. He deepens his hold on you, encouraging you to submit to this shared desire, to embrace this connection both tender and wild.

Your breaths sync up, clash and mingle, as the passion intensifies. You are trapped in this kiss, aware of how its power consumes you. You know you are his, body and soul, ready to explore the limits of this all-consuming desire. Every movement, every exchange of breath between you seems to create a stronger bond, as if every caress, every sigh, attaches you a little more to him.

Sunghoon pulls away from your lips, gently tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth, a gesture that is both possessive and hungry. The moment is charged with tension, a mixture of pain and pleasure that makes you moan under your breath, your breath hitching under the intensity of his gaze. “You’re making me lose control,” he murmurs, his voice husky and eager, like a predator intoxicated by its prey. As he lies on his back, he pulls you against him, and you let him, bending to his authority.

Your body presses against his, his warmth enveloping you. His hands slide down your back, tracing familiar patterns on your damp skin, and each touch sends shivers down your spine. You moan softly, breath coming out of your chest as you sink into the crook of his neck, feeling his musky scent mix with the sweat that beads on his skin. He shudders beneath your lips, his muscles contracting as your soft, wet kisses trail over his flesh.

“Then let yourself go,” you whisper, your voice almost a breath, kissing the pulse throbbing against his neck. The softness of your lips against his marble-hard skin contrasts with the rawness of his desire. He tightens his hold on you, his hand sliding authoritatively along your waist, moving to your hips, an insistent pressure that makes you feel his burning need. His fingers dig into your flesh, leaving a visible mark of his possessive hold, an affirmation of your submission to his desire.

“What if you can’t handle it?” he asks, his voice soft, but there’s an underlying intensity in his words. He’s worried, and that vulnerability touches you. You can see the internal struggle in his eyes, that irrational fear that you’ll one day pull away, that you’ll discover the depth of his inner demons and no longer be able to handle the truth of who he is. He’s broken, and despite his strong exterior, he’s walking a fine line between passion and despair.

You’re here, in his arms, and you know that you’re not just a simple object of desire for him. You’re his anchor, the one that ties him to reality. “I’m here,” you assure him, your hand slipping into his hair, tugging lightly to get his attention. Your gaze sinks into his, and in this silent exchange, you transmit the strength he needs. He needs to know that you’re not going to leave him, even when his fears take shape in the darkness.

His hand, soft but firm, slides along your body, getting lost in the curve of your hips, then slowly rising to brush your waist. Each touch is electrifying, awakening sensations in your heart. Sunghoon approaches, his lips brushing the skin of your neck, his kisses becoming more insistent, more urgent. He consumes you, and you let yourself go to this euphoria, intoxicated by his tongue on your skin.

“You’re all I need,” he says with heartbreaking intensity, his breath hot against your skin. His voice echoes like a desperate plea, a heartfelt cry that carries through the dark room. He begins to explore your body, his hands running over your skin, discovering every inch with a thoroughness that leaves you panting. His caresses become more urgent, and you can feel the tension rising between you, a fragile thread ready to snap.

As you let yourself be lulled by the warmth of his caresses, a new wave of desire blossoms deep within you, spreading through every fiber of your body. Sunghoon's fingers travel down your spine, tracing a line of fire across your sensitive skin. Every pressure of his hands, every movement of his fingers, is a silent promise, a whisper through your body. You arch your back instinctively, offering yourself fully to him, as if your body already understands that it exists only to belong to him.

He descends slowly, his lips brushing every inch of your skin, tracing a burning path that makes you shiver. Each kiss is a sweet burn, an invisible mark he places on you to remind you that you belong to him. His teeth graze the skin of your stomach, creating a light bite that makes you gasp, and he watches each of your shudders, each of your sighs, with an almost animal intensity, as if he savors each reaction, each emotion that bursts within you.

When he reaches your pelvis, he pauses for a moment, his fingers firmly on your hips, preventing you from moving. You feel vulnerable, offered, but there is in this vulnerability a promise of safety, as if, in this moment, he is ready to devour you while protecting you in the same breath. His lips brush your stomach one last time before he looks up at you, and in that dark gaze, you perceive a passion that takes your breath away.

Sunghoon begins to kiss you with an almost unsettling gentleness, his lips exploring your skin with a thoroughness that makes you shudder. His kisses are deep and passionate, each movement of his mouth on you resonating like an intimate caress, a gesture of pure possession. You feel your body react, your muscles tensing under the effect of this intense desire that consumes you. He murmurs inaudible words against your skin, as if he wanted to anchor himself in you, to engrave himself in your soul.

His hands slide along your thighs, and you feel his warm breath descend slowly. Each caress is calculated, controlled, as if he took pleasure in prolonging each second, in savoring each shiver that runs through your body. And while he explores your flesh with this intoxicating thoroughness, you lose all control, abandoning yourself completely to this whirlwind of sensations that overwhelms you.

As he holds you tightly, his hand tightens on your thigh with intense possessiveness. “You know you belong to me, right?” His voice, low and raspy, resonates in the thick air of the room, seeping into every corner of your being. You nod, unable to respond otherwise, captivated by this declaration that seems to seal your bond.

“Say it,” he demands, his fingers digging into your flesh, marking his presence, asserting his hold.

“I belong to you,” you whisper in a wavering voice, each word carrying the brutal truth. “Body and soul, I am yours.”

Sunghoon stood there, a few steps away from you, and the distance between you seemed both infinite and terribly close, crackling with tension, like a rope ready to give way under pressure. The air around you was saturated with an electric charge, heavy, almost suffocating. You felt like every breath you took was barely entering your lungs, compressed by this oppressive atmosphere. Before you, he looked like a wild animal on the verge of losing all control, every muscle in his body tense to the limit, every line of his face marked by a mixture of anger and despair.

His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white, his fingers clenched to the limit, looking as if they were going to break. His breathing, jerky and irregular, made his chest rise and fall with an almost violent intensity. It was as if he contained a storm within him, a furious rage that he was forcing himself to hold back. His eyes, which had once offered you warmth and tenderness, were now unfathomably dark, filled with an icy glow that pierced you through and through. They watched you as if they were trying to pierce to the depths of your soul, and you couldn't help but shiver at this intensity that gave off both threat and pain.

Underneath that fear that froze your insides, a dark attraction pulled you towards him. It was something indefinable, an irresistible force, almost primitive, stronger than your reason, more dangerous than your prudence. It was like a fever that crept into you, burning and uncontrollable. A part of you understood the danger of letting yourself be drawn into this darkness, but the other part, the one that only obeyed its instincts, was ready to cross that limit, blinded by a devastating passion.

You could sense this inner battle in him, this brutal, invisible struggle that seemed to tear every fiber of his being apart. His gaze was filled with palpable hatred, a violent disgust that he projected onto you with suffocating intensity. But behind that impenetrable mask, there was something else. You could feel it, this underlying fear, this fragility that he tried to hide, like an open wound that he refused to expose. He looked at you with unbearable tension, and you could almost feel the visceral terror that hid beneath his anger, this fear of abandonment, of loneliness, that had been eating away at him forever.

His voice cracked through the air, harsh, sharp, each word coming like a brutal slap. “Fuck, Y/n, you don’t understand anything, do you?” he growled, lips twisted in contempt. Each syllable was spat out like poison, and his gaze burned with that black anger that froze you to your soul. He took a step back, tipping the table and knocking over a vase that shattered into several pieces, as if your proximity burned him, as if the very idea of your contact filled him with hatred. His entire body felt ready to explode, every muscle tense to the limit.

He ran a trembling hand through his hair, pulling so hard that his fingers seemed ready to break under the pressure. The gesture betrayed his state: he was no longer in control of anything, not even his own emotions. He tried to hold back, but the pain was too deep, too brutal, as if every word he spoke was a desperate attempt to make you run away, to disgust you. But you stood there, unable to back away, unable to look away from the burning chaos that was tearing at his soul.

“You can’t come see me in this fucking arena!” His voice rang out with a violence that made you freeze, a cry torn from your guts, laden with raw pain that gripped you deep inside. In his eyes, you could see the abyss he was plunging into, like a drowning man, unable to hold on to anything. His words were filled with unbearable despair. “I don’t want you to see me like this, to watch as I get torn apart, as I lose what’s left of my dignity!”

He looked away, unable to bear the thought of you seeing that vulnerability, that terror he held on to so as not to completely collapse. His fists clenched again, so hard that the sound of his knuckles cracking under the strain echoed like a sinister echo. A dull fear crept into you, a sinking premonition that Sunghoon was slowly sliding towards a point of no return, an abyss from which you could never bring him back. Yet despite this fear, a fierce determination consumed you, a burning will not to abandon him.

“Sunghoon…” you whispered, taking a cautious step forward, your eyes fixed on his, trying to make him feel your presence, your strength, your love. Your heart was beating so hard that you could feel the pounding in your temples, every movement on his part exacerbating this all-consuming anguish. He backed away again, his bare feet crushing the shards of glass scattered on the ground. The sharp, sharp sound made you shudder, and you saw the blood flow from his feet, scarlet drops staining the ground. But he seemed impervious to physical pain, as if it were an insignificant echo compared to the anguish he carried within him.

“My God… you need healing,” you whispered, your voice trembling. The sight of his blood, of his face marked by this unbearable pain, stabbed you, rekindling in you this visceral fear of losing him, of seeing him sink. But he sneered, a bitter, acid laugh, as icy as a winter wind, filling the room with an implacable coldness.

“Healing? Seriously? You think fucking healing is going to change anything? You think this is what’s going to help me?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, but every word oozed a burning sarcasm, an icy hatred that spread through you like venom. “I don’t need you, Y/n. I don’t need your fucking compassion. You’re standing there with your big, hopeful eyes, like you think you can change anything.”

His words were like blades, each syllable digging deeper, digging a gaping wound inside you. But you refused to show the pain that was eating away at you. “Why are you doing this, Sunghoon? Why do you insist on pushing me away, on hurting me?” you asked, your voice trembling, desperate to understand what he was really looking for, what he hoped to find in this spiral of hatred and self-destruction. His face closed even more, his eyes becoming as impenetrable as abysses.

“Why? Because you’re blind, damn it!” he yelled, and his fist slammed into the wall, leaving a reddish mark, a splatter that seemed to convey all the violence he could no longer contain. “Because you don’t understand! You’re here, looking at me with that damn pity in your eyes, that pity that makes me want to puke! What do you take me for, huh? A lost cause? A damn case to save to give yourself a clear conscience?”

His words were cruel, sharp, designed to hit you where you were most vulnerable. You felt tears welling up in spite of yourself, each word resonating like a punch, but you forced yourself to stand tall, not to falter under his attacks. “No, Sunghoon. This is not pity. This is not charity. I love you. Even with this part of you that you try to hide, this broken and painful part… I accept it, because I accept you.”

His gaze locked on you, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw a crack in his shell. He faltered, his eyes betraying a fleeting vulnerability, a flicker of fear and pain he tried hard to hide. But that flicker was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a bitter, contemptuous smile, directed as much at himself as at you.

“You really think you love me, Y/n? You don’t even know what I am. You have no idea what it feels like to be with me. One day, you’ll wake up and realize that I’m nothing but a monster, a wreck.” Sunghoon’s voice was icy, each word falling like a stab. His gaze, once so gentle, was now filled with a consuming rage, a pain he had long hidden, but which was now overflowing like an uncontrollable torrent. His eyes, usually so warm, had become dark abysses, where pain and anger danced together, creating a storm that you didn’t know how to face.

“So do me a favor. Save yourself before it’s too late.” Each syllable seemed to charge the air with a palpable threat, pressing you against the wall of the room. You backed away slowly, each step feeling heavy, as if you were fleeing a storm ready to engulf you. Tears began to pool on your cheeks, hot and salty, but you were determined not to let them fall.

You knew his words were laced with desperation, but the anger that accompanied them struck you right in the heart. He was staring at you with devastating intensity, and in his eyes, you saw the reflection of unbearable pain. He wasn't just angry at you; he was fighting his own demons, and you found yourself trapped in the middle of this bloody battle.

“No, Sunghoon,” you breathed, your voice shaky but firm, filled with emotion that seemed to pierce your heart. “I won’t leave. No matter how much you try to hurt me, to scare me away… I will stay. I will stay because I love you, even if you refuse to accept it.”

At that moment, he looked at you, his eyes flickering between anger and fear. You could almost feel the anguish that was choking him, this visceral panic that he hid under his mask of rage. His anger was only an armor, a rampart that he erected to protect himself, but you knew that he was afraid. Afraid of losing you. Afraid of letting you into his life. Afraid that you would discover what he really was: a broken being, a monster made of pain and despair.

He wavered for a moment, his gaze becoming hesitant, almost vulnerable. But, as if some invisible force was holding him back, he looked away, refusing to let himself be weak, even with you. “Then you’re even stupider than I thought,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. His words were like arrows, aimed straight at your heart, a desperate attempt to hurt you and push you away from him. It was a painful dance, a struggle between his desire to lock you away and the need to keep you at a distance.

Without a final glance, he grabbed his things, his abrupt movements betraying the inner storm that was consuming him. You watched him get dressed, each movement filled with a mixture of desperation and resignation. The muscles in his arms clenched with tension, and you could almost hear the crunch of his teeth clenched in a fight against his own demons. When he put on his shoes, the sound of leather hitting the floor sounded like a parting sentence, marking a brutal break between you.

Sunghoon felt your heavy footsteps guide him into the night, each meter he traveled pushing him deeper into the sticky darkness of his thoughts. The icy wind bit at his skin, slicing his face, but he welcomed the pain, the discomfort, as a punishment he was inflicting on himself. The memories of your haunted face, of your broken voice asking him to stay, overlapped his regrets. He hadn't wanted to run away, not really. But he knew that by staying, he could only hurt you more, drag you into his own downfall.

The silent streets stretched before him, each shadow drawing him closer to the place he had vowed never to return. This was not a triumphant return; it was a defeat, a bitter acceptance that he was nothing without this violence, this chaos that flowed through his veins like a slow poison. His throat tightened, rage and despair intertwining in a hot, oppressive knot. He clung to that anger like a shield, refusing to let weakness overwhelm him.

At the end of the street, in the fading light, a rusty door appeared. He knew it by heart, every scratch, every mark. The door that led to a world of shadow and brutality, a world where blows spoke louder than words, where blood and sweat flowed freely, without judgment or remorse.

He knocked three times. The metal vibrated under his fist, a shock that resonated in his soul. A few seconds passed before the door opened, and Nishimura Riki appeared. The guard had that usual arrogant look, that smirk that said it all without him needing to speak. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized him, a cruel pleasure shining in his gaze.

“Hunger Flayed… we thought you were gone for good,” Riki drawled, his tongue rolling each word like a calculated taunt. He knew where to strike to hurt, knew Sunghoon was here because he had failed elsewhere. This was a humiliation, and Riki wasn’t going to deny himself the chance to savor it.

Sunghoon felt anger boiling inside him, but he forced himself to keep his cool. The urge to smash that smug grin shot through him, but he just stared into Riki's eyes, cold and sharp. "Don't play with me tonight, Riki." His voice was low, dangerous, each word a warning heavy with the promise of violence.

Riki shrugged, that same smile still plastered on his face. "Still nervous, huh?" He opened the door wide, and Sunghoon stepped forward, the sound of the door closing behind him like a prison cell locking.

From the first steps, the rancid smell of sweat, blood, and dirt rose to his nostrils. This place had never changed. The walls, covered in dark, sticky marks, seemed to ooze this accumulated violence, as if each fight had been embedded there, each scream absorbed by the building, fed by their fears. A familiar shiver ran down his spine, a mixture of adrenaline and disgust. He hated this place as much as he needed it. This was where he could let it all out, where he could be the beast the world wanted him to be.

His steps led him through the narrow corridors to the locker room, a squalid room with walls yellowed by time and dust. The flashing neon cast a sickly light, bathing the place in a dirty green hue. Puddles of stagnant water, footprints, mud mixed with other substances he preferred not to identify, covered the floor.

Facing his old locker, a rusty and dented block of metal, he felt a strange nostalgia mixed with bitterness. Everything here had been witness to his nights spent fighting, destroying himself for strangers eager for sensations. He entered the code, an instinctive gesture, and opened the locker with a sharp blow. Inside, his things were still there, exactly as he had left them: a pair of black and red shorts, worn, soaked with the blows and sweat of past fights. As he grabbed them, he felt the weight of his past, each tear in the fabric like a memory of his defeats and victories.

He slowly removed his sweatshirt, revealing his arms, which were covered in scars that painted a brutal landscape of old injuries. These marks he had collected like trophies, tangible proof of his survival. As he began wrapping the bandages around his hands, squeezing each turn with a strength that betrayed all his pent-up anger, a figure appeared in the doorway.

Sim Jake.

The master of the place, the one who saw him as a simple animal destined for his cage. In Jake's eyes, there was no pity, no respect, just this gleam of unhealthy excitement. To Jake, Sunghoon was nothing more than a commodity, a monster he could exhibit to satisfy an audience in search of thrills. Jake smiled, a cruel smile that lifted the corners of his mouth without ever reaching his eyes.

“Well, well… the great Sunghoon, back in the pit,” Jake hissed as he approached, his heavy footsteps echoing in the silence. “Looks like you’re not as healed as you’re pretending, huh?”

Sunghoon continued to wrap his hands, each movement slow and precise, trying to quell the fury that simmered within him. He felt Jake's gaze weigh on him, a crushing, cold weight. It probed his flaws, relishing in every sliver of vulnerability he could perceive.

“Maybe I just need to remember why I left this place,” he replied, his voice raspy and laden with sarcasm.

Jake gave a cold laugh, a sharp sound that sounded like a knife scraping glass. He stepped closer to Sunghoon, his strong hand settling heavily on his shoulder, his fingers pressing into his flesh in an almost possessive gesture. “Oh, I guess you never really wanted to leave, Sunghoon. Because you’re just a caged beast, and the cage is here. Nobody understands you outside, right?”

Sunghoon gritted his teeth, every muscle tense. “Don’t talk to me like you know anything about me,” he spat, roughly pushing Jake’s hand away. His breathing quickened, each pulse in his veins like a war drum.

Jake took a step back, but an amused smile tugged at his lips. “Oh, I know you better than you think,” he murmured, his voice soft and poisonous. “You’re just a kid who convinced himself he was a monster because it’s easier to hit than to feel. You’re pathetic, Sunghoon. And you know it.”

The words slid through him like a blade, hitting a sore spot, a part of him he refused to acknowledge. Sunghoon felt the rage boil over, his vision narrowing, focused solely on Jake. His fist clenched, the bandages cracking under the pressure, his nails digging into the palm of his hand. He could taste something metallic on his tongue, like his own anger was eating away at him from the inside.

“You don’t have the right…” Her voice was barely a whisper, a mixture of hate and pain, a fierce vibration that shook him from the inside. “You think you can break me with your words? You’re nothing, Jake. Just a parasite who feeds on the misery of others.”

Jake stared at him, a sadistic glint in his eyes, his smile widening. "Look at you, all you can do is hit. Just like your father, right? Always trying to prove something, always..."

The words were lost as Sunghoon, in an uncontrolled burst, grabbed Jake by the collar and slammed him violently against the locker. The metal shook with shock, and Sunghoon found himself face to face with Jake, his breath short, his gaze black and furious. Hatred, despair, pain, all mixed together in that moment. He was cornered, a wounded beast, but he refused to submit.

“You have no idea what I am,” Sunghoon whispered, his voice sharp as a blade. “You and your little shit of power… You’re just a coward. A coward who hides behind words because he never had the courage to fight for himself.”

Jake stared at him, a mixture of fear and defiance in his eyes. But despite the fear that was beginning to show, he dared to smile again, defiant to the end. “Go ahead. Hit me, Sunghoon. Prove to me that you’re just a beast, just like I always said.”

Sunghoon felt the call of violence, the irresistible temptation to silence Jake, to release all the pent-up rage, as his fist rose. But a cold shiver ran down his spine, like an invisible bite. A voice, soft but persistent, rose in his mind, breaking the impulse that pushed him to strike. He slowly lowered his hand, a gesture heavy with despair. The pain, the regret, and the echo of your voice echoed in his head, filling him with emptiness. He released Jake, letting him collapse backwards, his gaze burning with disgust.

Without a word, he turned on his heel and walked away, the darkness of the room engulfing him as he sat down on a makeshift bench. The murmurs and raucous laughter of the other fighters, the harsh light, everything mixed and distorted around him. In this chaos, he felt more lost than ever, a prisoner of his own choices, thinking back to you and everything he had told you.

The dilapidated warehouse is shrouded in heavy darkness, pierced only by flashing neon lights that cast yellowish halos on the eager faces of the packed crowd. The air is humid, saturated with the smell of metal, sweat, and a palpable tension that stifles every breath. The walls are stained with grime and damp, and rusty pipes snake along the ceilings like the veins of a gigantic, decomposing body. Every corner of this place seems imbued with a macabre history, as if violence had left an indelible imprint, etched in stone.

The ring, at the center of it all, is a crude, dimly lit arena where men come not for glory but for survival. There is no refined audience, no bright spotlights. Only shadows with hungry eyes, clenched jaws, eyes sparkling with morbid curiosity. Dirty money is bet, names are whispered, blood is awaited as one would await rain in a burning desert.

Kim Sunoo is already standing in the center of the ring, elegant in his role as commentator, but he seems out of place in this grotesque scene. His suit is too well-tailored for this place where brutality reigns, but his sly, calculated smile shows that he is perfectly at home here. He is the spectacle. His microphone squeaks slightly as he taps it, cutting short the murmurs of the crowd. Silence falls like an axe, all eyes fixed on him, impatient.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Sunoo begins, his voice rising like a crescendo, seeping into the dark recesses of the room. “Tonight, you are here to witness a spectacle you will not find anywhere else. Not in legal arenas, not on your screens. Here, it is only raw, real, blood and flesh!”

His smile is sharp, almost predatory, as he scans the crowd, his eyes sparkling with restrained malice. Sunghoon, standing in the shadows of a corner of the ring, feels his muscles tense with each syllable Sunoo utters. Each word reminds him why he is here, why he needs this fight. He hates this place, this stage, these spectators who only come to see him destroy himself, but deep down, he knows he needs this pain to hold on to something, to feel alive.

He stares at his hands, already bandaged with mechanical precision, as his fingers tremble slightly, not from fear, but from suppressed rage. His breathing is slow, but his heart beats at a speed that betrays him. He knows he can't back down anymore. Here, he's not Sunghoon, the man with regrets. Here, he's The Flayed Hunger. A nickname his opponents whisper with awe-tinged fear, a nickname that reduces him to one thing: violence.

“In the left corner… a man whose name evokes terror and chaos. A man who fights as if he has nothing left to lose. As if every blow is his last breath. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the man known as The Flayed Hunger… SUNGHOON!”

Sunoo lets the last words hang in the air, and some of the crowd erupts into wild applause, while others boo. Sunghoon steps out of the shadows, striding forward with a heavy, determined stride. His fists are clenched, his muscles tense beneath his pale skin. His face is closed, expressionless. A mask of calm, but beneath the surface, a whirlwind of rage. He is a time bomb, ready to explode at any moment, and everyone in this room knows it.

His eyes scan the crowd quickly, not lingering on any face. They don’t matter. Nothing here really matters, except the fight that’s coming. This ring, this violence, it’s the only thing keeping him alive, the only thing that calms, if only briefly, the chaos in his head. He clenches his fists a little tighter, feeling the tension in his muscles like a promise of pain. Pain, after all, is the only thing he truly understands.

But it's not just physical pain he seeks. It's this inner war, this battle against himself, against what he's become. Every blow he takes is a kind of redemption, a punishment he willingly inflicts on himself, for something he can't name. Something he can't fix.

He steps into the ring, impassive, his features hard and merciless. The noise of the crowd fades away for him. They are only spectators, there to feast on his destruction, but he has no use for them. They are insignificant. What he waits for, what he desires, is the confrontation. It is this inevitable collision that will break the silence in his head, even if it is only for a few moments.

“And now, in the right corner…” Sunoo continues, his tone darkening, becoming more serious, as if he were about to reveal a beast he himself had unleashed. “A man who has no pity or remorse. A cold, precise fighter, whose blows leave marks that no one forgets. The Butcher… the man who cuts without hesitation… JUNGWON!”

The applause rises, accompanied by shrill whistles and nervous laughter. Jungwon steps forward, not even glancing at the crowd. His eyes are already fixed on Sunghoon, as if nothing else exists in this room. He steps into the ring with the slowness of a predator sure of victory. He doesn't smile, shows no emotion. His body is tense, ready for the fight, but his face remains icy cold.

The tension is at its peak when the ring girl enters as Sunoo descends. She crosses the ring with a calculated, sensual gait. Her outfit is provocative, her curves highlighted by the shiny black leather that reflects the flickering neon lights. Her heels click softly on the floor, almost inaudible under the murmurs of the crowd. But her smile, frozen and lifeless, betrays the falseness of the scene. She is only a distraction in this arena of violence, a dissonant note in this symphony of brutality.

She raises the sign that says “Round 1” above her head, displaying it proudly as she circles the ring, oblivious to what’s to come. Her eyes reflect nothing. She’s here, simply because that’s her role. An empty role, one that has nothing to do with the storm brewing between Sunghoon and Jungwon.

Sunghoon stood at the edge of the ring, his muscles tense with the pressure. He breathed deeply, but each inhalation burned his windpipe, as if the air itself was saturated with venom. The bandage around his fists squeezed his knuckles so tightly that he almost lost all feeling. His eyes, fixed on his opponent, were filled with a suppressed rage, a fury ready to destroy everything inside him. Hatred snarled, rising from his insides to his throat, ready to explode at any moment.

Facing him, Jungwon remained impassive. A thin, almost provocative smile touched his lips. His piercing black eyes seemed to dissect Sunghoon, looking for his flaws, his weak points. This was no ordinary opponent. No, Jungwon was not here to simply fight. He was here to destroy Sunghoon, physically and psychologically. He was playing with him, and Sunghoon knew it. This smile, this nonchalance, everything in Jungwon's attitude exuded a frightening confidence, that of a man certain to dominate. He was not only looking to win, he wanted to humiliate, to break.

The gong finally rang out, its echo vibrating through the chaos of tense silence. The moment had finally arrived. Sunghoon felt his muscles tense further, like a spring ready to break free. Every fiber in his body screamed at him to fight, to strike, to destroy.

Without thinking, Sunghoon charged. His body was a mass of tension, of pure violence. His fists came down with the force of a raging animal, his blows seeking to tear flesh, to break bone. But Jungwon moved with disconcerting fluidity. Every blow Sunghoon threw was blocked or dodged with insulting ease. Jungwon barely moved, brushed by Sunghoon’s frantic assault, his movements controlled, calculated. He was toying with him. Frustration was rising, bubbling in Sunghoon’s stomach.

The blows rained down, each one more desperate than the last, but none of them hit their mark. Then, in a moment of inattention, Jungwon struck. A well-placed punch sank directly into Sunghoon's ribs. The shock was instantaneous. Sunghoon felt his bones vibrate from the impact, and his breath immediately failed him. Pain exploded in his chest, a fire burning his lungs as he tried to breathe. He staggered backwards, gasping for air, but found only the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

Jungwon didn't give him time to recover. Before Sunghoon could fully straighten up, another blow, quick and precise, crashed against his brow bone. A searing pain tore through his skull, and almost immediately, blood gushed from the cut, running down his face in thick, hot streaks. The reddish liquid obstructed his vision, blurring his senses, but he couldn't stop himself. He quickly wiped his eyes with his forearm, feeling the blood stain his skin, but Jungwon was already on top of him.

An uppercut caught him square in the chin, sending his head snapping back with such force he thought his neck would snap. Pain flared in the back of his skull, his vision flickered, and for a split second he felt the world around him fade away, as if his mind were floating out of his body. All he felt was emptiness, a cold, black abyss that threatened to swallow him whole.

But he did not fall.

With an almost inhuman will, Sunghoon took a few steps back, his legs shaking, but still standing. The taste of blood filled his mouth, a bitter and metallic taste, reminding him of his own mortality. But even more than the physical pain, he felt the humiliation. Jungwon stood there, still with that same cruel smile, his fists slightly raised, waiting for Sunghoon to throw himself into the wolf's mouth again.

“Is that all you got, Sunghoon?” Jungwon hissed, his low voice cutting through the din of the crowd. “I expected more from you… But you’re just a rabid dog who bites without thinking. Pathetic.”

Those words hurt more than any blow Sunghoon had taken so far. He felt rage surge through him, an uncontrollable wave of pure hatred. His fists clenched, his knuckles turning white, his nails digging into the flesh of his already cut palms. But this time, it wasn’t blind rage. It was cold, calculated anger. He knew that if he kept this up, he would lose more than just the fight. He would lose everything. So he focused, ignoring the throbbing pain in his ribs and the blood that still blurred his vision.

He moved forward again, this time with more control, his blows more measured. But Jungwon was still faster. He dodged the first blow, then the second, before counterattacking with blinding speed. A right hook crashed against Sunghoon’s jaw, and before he could react, another blow struck him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him once more. His knees buckled under the impact, and he half-collapsed, his hands desperately trying to grip the ring ropes to keep from collapsing completely.

The crowd roared. Screams of delight and excitement rose, bets were made in the shadows. They wanted to see blood, and they were getting it. Sunghoon’s face was a macabre painting of pain and rage, blood running in thick rivulets down his chin and chest. But even so, he wouldn’t give up. Not yet.

“Get up. Show me you still have some pride,” Jungwon murmured, stepping closer to him, his hot, mocking breath inches from his face. “Where’s the Sunghoon everyone feared? Where is he, huh?”

Those words made something burst out in Sunghoon. He stood up straight, his fist slicing through the air with a speed increased tenfold by anger. This time, his blow landed. He felt the impact against Jungwon's jaw, his opponent recoiling from the force of the shock. A smile distorted by rage twisted Sunghoon's lips. He struck again. Again. His fists came down like hammers, seeking to destroy, to crush, to draw blood. Jungwon took a few blows, but his guard remained high, and soon, he struck back.

The blows exchanged became more and more violent, each impact echoing in the warehouse like a clap of thunder. The ground was becoming slippery because of the blood and sweat, and each step of Sunghoon seemed heavier, more difficult. He felt his strength leave him little by little, but he refused to give up. His blows were less precise, more disordered, but the hatred which animated him kept him standing.

Then came the final blow.

A straight punch to the face. Jungwon's fist crashed against Sunghoon's nose with devastating force. He felt the bone crack under the impact, a searing pain erupted in his skull, and this time, he fell.

The ground beneath Sunghoon seemed to give way as he collapsed, his heavy body hitting the ring hard, pain tearing through every fiber of his being. His breath was short and ragged, his throat tight with the terror and violence he had just endured. He couldn’t move, his vision darkening as blood rushed into his eyes, the burning heat of pain filling every inch of his skin. The thud of his bones breaking echoed in his skull like a final hammer blow. The delirious crowd roared, a clamor of triumph, of rage, of sick pleasure vibrating in the air. The bets were made, but none of that mattered. What mattered was the pain, the rage that still boiled inside him, the sight of Jungwon, that mocking smile of the fucking monster.

He stood there for a moment, lying there like an abandoned carcass. His body was nothing more than a pile of bruised flesh, his torso beating in time with a heart that seemed to want to burst under the intensity of the pain. Each breath was a fight in itself, a struggle against the blood that flooded his throat, against the heat of the pain that had taken hold of every muscle, every nerve fiber. But somewhere in that pit of suffering, a flame persisted. Anger. Rage. That fucking determination that he had never been able to eradicate.

He wasn't done yet. Not until this fucking rage was satisfied. Not until that shitty smile was broken, crushed under the force of his fists.

The images flashed through his mind, blurry but burning with truth. The pain. The hate. The promise he made to himself that he wouldn't lose. Not like this. Not in front of him. Never in front of this asshole.

With a muffled groan, he forced his body up, fighting the dizziness that threatened to swallow him up in the darkness. His shaking arms clung to the ropes of the ring, each movement a sheer agony, a test his mind was not prepared to endure. He rose slowly, the crowd looking down on him, murmuring, speculating about his imminent fall. But he stood up, regardless. His face was unrecognizable, bloodied, his body scarred by every blow, every accumulated defeat. He was nothing more than a walking corpse, but he stood there, standing. Not yet. Not yet down.

Jungwon stared at him, a cruel smile tugging at his lips, his eyes burning with sick satisfaction. He knew Sunghoon wouldn’t surrender easily. He knew this wounded animal wouldn’t give up as long as there was a breath of life in his lungs. Victory was within reach, but the look in Sunghoon’s eyes, that look filled with rage and defiance, was beginning to intrigue him. He hadn’t expected this. He’d expected a quick end, an inglorious submission. But that wasn’t the case. Sunghoon stood there, a broken man but still ready for a fight. And that was fascinating.

Sunghoon lifted his head, staring at Jungwon, every muscle in his body on fire, but determined not to let that shitty smile stay on that face. He took a deep breath, feeling the burn in his chest, the blood pulsing through his veins like poison. But he didn't care. It was nothing compared to what he had endured. It was nothing compared to the hatred he carried deep in his gut.

“This fucking fight… it’s not over.” His voice was hoarse, each word seeming to crush him further, but he managed to clench his fists. He pushed away from the ropes, wiping his face with a sharp gesture, clearing the mixture of sweat and blood that blurred his vision, the rage still palpable in every gesture. He wasn’t going to be crushed that easily.

Jungwon snickered, openly mocking Sunghoon, snapping his neck like a predator ready to devour its prey. “You’re a fucking monster, but you’re also a fucking idiot.” He stepped forward slowly, his eyes shining with mischief. “You should have stayed down, left all that behind… But hey, if you really want to say your last words for that girlfriend, for that woman you think you might still see again, go ahead. I’ll take care of it. And who knows… I might even take your place.” He gave him a smirk, accompanied by a provocative wink, knowing full well how much he could hurt Sunghoon with those words.

Jungwon's breathing became faster, more erratic. He clenched his fists, his body shaking with rage at the very thought of Jungwon next to you. The taste of betrayal, of helplessness, was eating him alive. He had screwed up, he knew it. But he couldn't accept this. Not you, not with him. Not after everything he had endured. Not with that son of a bitch.

Sunghoon's eyes were bloodshot, and he gritted his teeth so hard that his jaw cracked. He was far from finished. In that moment, he was nothing more than an animal, a raging beast. His arm shot up, cutting through the air with superhuman strength, propelled by his all-consuming rage. He threw a right hook toward Jungwon's jaw. The sound of the impact was like thunder, a dull crack of bone under the force of the blow. Jungwon's breath escaped in a gasp of pain, but he didn't fall.

The taste of blood mingled with the air, the pain in Jungwon's gaze amplified by the shock. Sunghoon wasn't waiting for him to fall. No. He wanted to break him. The blows rained down, merciless, savage. An uppercut to the abdomen, followed by a knee crushing Jungwon's ribs, all of this followed by a fist that crashed with bestial violence on his left eye. A blow that knocked out a few teeth, sending blood flying into the air, like a macabre spectacle, a symphony of pure violence. Sunghoon was no longer aware of his own pain. All that mattered was hearing him scream. He wanted Jungwon to suffer, to pay, to burn in the same hatred that boiled in his guts.

“Don’t even come near her, asshole.” Sunghoon spat, the taste of metal in his mouth. Every word, every syllable, was a promise of destruction, pure hatred.

Jungwon staggered, a trickle of blood running from his nose, his mouth, his eyes already almost closed under the intensity of the shock. But he didn't fall. No, he straightened up, forcing himself to ignore the pain, to push back the inevitable. He had learned to take it, to never let himself be defeated. He had been forged in this brutal environment. But this fight was not what he expected. He had underestimated Sunghoon. He thought the pain would be enough to destroy him, but he had not taken into account the tenacity that inhabited Sunghoon's soul. The latter was not going to give in. Not as long as there was a breath of life left in his body.

As he struggled to his feet, he hissed through his teeth, "I'm gonna fuck her over your fucking corpse." He wiped the blood from his face, staring at Sunghoon with a look of disgust and strange admiration, his smile slowly stretching.

Sunghoon let out a throaty laugh, a sneer twisting his bruised lips. He stood up, panting, his body burning with the effort. “I’ll break your legs before you can even lay a finger on them.” He took a step forward, an aura of murderous rage emanating from every step. “But you’re the one who’s going to die here, Jungwon. Not me.”

A cry of pain escaped Jungwon's throat as Sunghoon lunged again. This time, he didn't even try to dodge. There was no more play, no more holding back. Sunghoon struck, again and again, his fists becoming masses of steel striking with uncontrollable rage. Each punch tore Jungwon's soul a little more, each impact pushing him deeper into an abyss of pain.

Jungwon found himself pinned against the ropes of the ring, with no room to defend himself. His back hit the cables brutally, but Sunghoon, carried away by pure and unheard-of violence, did not slow down. He raised another fist, this time to strike at the face, to crush that cruel smile, to annihilate that arrogance once and for all.

Sunghoon's fist landed with titanic force against Jungwon's right eye. A burst of light erupted in the air as the sound of the impact echoed throughout the gymnasium. Jungwon screamed, a scream tearing through the atmosphere, a scream of pure pain, as if his soul was shattering from the impact.

Sunghoon, now out of control, continued to strike. His fists slammed down with an unfathomable intensity, each blow bringing him closer to his breaking point. But in his furious madness, he knew that each blow was merely the answer to a deeper wound, an old, ingrained pain that refused to let go. A wound that would never heal. A pain that lived in his bones, in his flesh, in his shattered dreams.

Sunghoon's gaze, filled with fury, was that of a man possessed by violence. He had nothing left to lose. No reason to hold back. His fists struck, relentlessly, until he no longer felt tired, until his body screamed in pain. But he didn't care. This fight was no longer just physical. It embodied everything he had become, everything he had lost. And there was no going back. Not while this asshole in front of him was still breathing.

Sunghoon didn’t stop. He couldn’t. The blows rained down like a driving rain, each fist slamming into Jungwon with relentless brutality, each impact echoing through his bones like detonations. All he could hear was the roar of his own heart, beating like a war drum in his ears. The thud of blows hitting human flesh, Jungwon’s muffled grunts, all of it blended into a symphony of pure violence. Blood spattered, spurted into the air, and he could feel it, hot and sticky on his arms, his face. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He was nothing more than a monster, a destruction machine, a creature of blind rage.

Sunghoon's fists struck relentlessly, his body moving mechanically, fueled only by the adrenaline that burned through his veins. Each blow he gave seemed to strip away a little of his humanity, turning him further into an insatiable predator. He was too far into this abyss to care about his own limits. The muscles in his arms, his legs, screamed in pain, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. The blows continued, each new contact with Jungwon's skin resonating like an explosion in his mind, rekindling the visceral hatred that was eating away at him from the inside.

Jungwon, his eyes bloodshot, his face disfigured, struggled to stand. Every breath was a struggle not to collapse, but he didn't fall. He stood there, a wounded beast, but still standing, defying the world, defying Sunghoon. And it was that look, that look full of defiance and arrogance that inflamed Sunghoon even more. He hated him. He hated him so much that he couldn't stop. He wanted to see him suffer, to feel that pain in his fists, to see the fear in his eyes. But Jungwon wouldn't give in.

Sunghoon struck again. A right hook that exploded against his jaw. A terrifying, almost human sound echoed, and Sunghoon felt Jungwon's jaw shatter from the impact. Blood spurted out, splattering all around them. Another rush of adrenaline. Another surge of pure rage.

The ring floor was an ocean of blood. Jungwon's body was almost unrecognizable. His mouth, his eyes, his nose… everything was a bloody mess of wounds. But he didn't fall. He didn't give in. He stood up, struggling to stay on his feet, his gaze still there, that glint of arrogance that never died.

Sunghoon was no longer human. He had become a beast, his fists becoming relentless weapons, striking again, again and again. Every blow he gave was not simply to conquer, but to destroy, to crush. He wanted that arrogant face to crumble under his fists. He wanted Jungwon to disappear under the violence. He wanted to break him, until only pieces of him remained, scattered on the ground.

Jungwon, his mouth full of blood, tried to back away, desperate to get away from the ropes, but it was already too late. Sunghoon grabbed him by the hair, forcing him to raise his head to look him straight in the eyes. He forced him to face the brutality of his gaze, a glint of madness and disgust reflected in his pupils. Then, with a sharp blow, he landed another blow, an uppercut that slammed against his skull, sending him halfway into the ropes, his body sagging in shock. The sound of the impact echoed through the arena like a funeral knell.

Jungwon staggered, his face covered in blood, but he stood up once more, refusing to give in, to show any weakness. And that, it drove Sunghoon even crazier. Every time Jungwon stood up, it was like he was sending him a challenge, a challenge not to stop, to keep hitting.

Sunghoon leaned down, his eyes full of madness. A demented smile played on his lips, a cruel, satisfied smile. Then he raised his knee and sent it straight into Jungwon's ribs. A thud, a sound of breaking flesh, echoed through the arena. Sunghoon felt a shiver of pleasure freeze his skin, a macabre pleasure that flowed through his veins. He wanted to see that pain, he wanted to see the suffering in Jungwon's eyes. He wanted this man to understand that nothing he had ever done in his life would ever be as intense as this pain.

“You still want to play?!” Sunghoon muttered in a hoarse voice, almost a growl, his fists shaking with rage. But he didn’t wait for an answer. He didn’t care about words. What he wanted was to destroy this man, break his pride, make him as miserable as he had always been in his eyes.

He grabbed Jungwon by the hair one last time, forcing him to stand up. Sunghoon's gaze grew colder. He forced Jungwon's face to turn towards him, before spitting, a spray of blood and saliva that landed next to his disfigured face.

But before he could continue, a powerful arm wrapped around him. It was Jake. He was stepping into the ring, his eyes black with anger. With a brutal gesture, he grabbed Sunghoon by the arm and yanked him back, forcing him to let go. “No deaths. That’s the only rule, remember?” Jake growled authoritatively, but Sunghoon, drunk with rage, didn’t even pay him any attention.

His fists were clenched so tightly he could feel the tendons snapping under the pressure, his arms shaking with the effort. He spat out blood, his gaze still fixed on Jungwon, his eyes full of fury. “Let go of me, asshole.” His voice trembled with pure rage.

Jake didn't give in. With a shoulder thrust, Sunghoon pushed Jake back, a final burst of violence. Then, staggering, he left the ring, his body on fire, his mind drowned in fury. He no longer felt human. He no longer felt anything but a monster without control, a creature of rage ready to destroy everything in its path.

Sunghoon stood there in the cramped bathroom, the flickering light of a fluorescent lamp casting a distorted glow on his reflection. He had not yet gotten used to looking at this face that seemed foreign to him, this broken figure staring back at him in the mirror. The blows were still fresh, the injuries visible: his skin, red and marbled with bruises, his broken nose, his lips swollen from the impact, streaks of dried blood testifying to the rampages he had endured. But these physical marks were nothing compared to what he felt deep inside. It was this rage that boiled, this blind hatred, but above all… this shame. An insidious shame, which ate away at him from the inside, making its way through his veins, more toxic than any bodily injury.

Beads of sweat beaded on his forehead, mixing with the blood that was still flowing, forming a reddish film on his skin. His hands shook, not from pain, but from disgust. Every movement only made the pain worse, as if his entire body was guilty of the violence he had poured out. His fingers gripped the sink with such force that he could almost feel the pain of the metal digging into his palm. The heat in his head rose to an unbearable burn, a diffuse pain that seemed to encompass his entire being.

He knew he had ruined everything. Everything. And it was irreversible. With you, with himself. He had believed he could free himself through violence, regain control of a life that was slipping away from him, redefine his existence in a world he had learned to hate. But it had all been an illusion. Control? He had never had it. Not with him. Not with you. Not even with his own body, which he hated, which he had never been able to master.

His gaze wandered into the mirror. His black, bloodshot eyes stared at this image of himself that repulsed him. And he hated it. Every fiber of his being turned away from this version of himself, a distorted reflection of what he was supposed to be. The violence he had endured, the rage he carried within him, he had believed that it would fix him. But all it had done was open the invisible wounds of his soul even more, twisting and dying. The physical pain? It was nothing anymore. It was the inside that bled. This unbearable emptiness, this nothingness that devoured his heart, his soul, his mind.

He leaned forward, his shaking hands resting on his knees, his breathing heavy, noisy, disordered. He felt his body folding under the weight of the actions he had committed. The memory of the blows he had dealt Jungwon, that unleashed violence, that uncontrollable torrent that had disfigured the man in front of him, that face broken under his fists, the shattered teeth, the blood flying in the air, all of it assailed him. It was not victory that consumed him. It was this feeling of emptiness and disgust, this image of himself that refused to disappear. It was not a man he had beaten. It was himself he had destroyed. He had not freed himself. He had lost himself. Completely.

He collapsed against the sink, his head down, his eyes closed, as if to escape his own reflection, the shards of glass in his mind overlapping the shattered image of his own face. The sound of blood still flowing from his wounds echoed in the silence, a mournful reminder that he was nothing more than a body, a mass of pain, a burden he carried with him. He hated himself. He hated himself so much that he wanted to erase it all. Destroy himself entirely, so that the pain would finally end. But he knew. He knew he couldn't.

Pain had become his identity, a burden he could neither cast off nor abandon. Hatred, his driving force. He felt as if this pain, this insatiable need to destroy, was the only thing keeping him standing, like a puppet caught in the strings of his own madness. He was no longer a man. He was a monstrosity, a soulless beast, a creature devouring everything in its path, an entity hungry for pain.

He slowly raised his head, a smirk twisting his face, twisted by self-destruction. He hated himself. But in that hatred, there was also a kind of satisfaction, a visceral darkness that came from the depths of his broken soul. As if violence, as devastating as it was, was the only thing that still allowed him to exist. He was not a man. He was a monster, and that monster could only survive in this endless darkness.

The scene in the arena, the sounds of blows, the image of Jungwon, the groans of pain… all of it haunted him. He was not a fighter. He was not a hero. He was an abyss of shadows, a caricature of what he could have been, if violence had not taken possession of his soul. His fists, still clenched by rage, trembled under the irresistible urge to strike again. But who could he inflict this pain on? Who, if not himself, could still fall under the violence he had unleashed?

His eyes fell upon the shard of the broken mirror. Each piece of glass seemed to reflect a different image of himself, scattered fragments of a whole that no longer existed. And he smiled at it, that demented smile, that of a lost man, of a man who had sacrificed everything he was, even his humanity, for… nothing. He hated himself, but at the same time, he fed on that hatred. Because deep down, he knew he could never live without it.

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