#Feel My Rhythm' MV Behind

[baekhyunsbestie]

⟢ : NEED TO KNOW ★.ᐟ

˗ˏˋ ꒰ synopsis ꒱ ˎˊ˗ the x-ëxø guys wanna see what that cute lil human cooter is really capable of. each of them has their own vibe, their own way of wrecking you, and once they’ve got you… there’s no getting away. 👽💫💖 so, who’s it gonna be?

˗ˏˋ ꒰ content ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 18+/mdni. 14k+ words (baëkhyun's is the longest i'm so sorry). separate pairings. fem!reader. i'm ngl to u this is just straight up smut for the most part. explicit language. pussydrunk men. degradation. praise. pet names. talking u thru it. dark themes: obsession and possessiveness. brat-taming. powerplay. manhandling. biting. marking. pheromone kink. size kink. choking. spanking. chains. oral. use of their powers hehe (except junmyeon + yixing). p in v. creampies. overstim. aftercare. raw and fuckn ROUGH juseyooo <3

˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ “i don't play w my pen. i mean what i write!” ;) omg so i was deep in a doja cat mv binge the other day when this one came on and i was like ??? 🫦 what an insane concept !!! inspired. got to cooking. now here we are <333 anywhoooo, happy monday !!!!!! hope u enjoy this and as always, lmk what u think 😚💞💖💗💖💓💘💗 MWAH! 💋

⟢ kāi

“i don't really got no type. i just wanna f*ck all night!”

the bass thrums through your body, a steady pulse that matches the rhythm of your hips as you grind back against him, your ass pressing into the hard line of his cock. kāi's hands grip your waist, fingers digging into your flesh, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

“you’re playing a dangerous game,” he rasps, voice thick with restraint, but you can feel how badly he wants to snap, to take you right here in the middle of the club. you smirk, rolling your hips again, feeling the way he stiffens behind you, a curse slipping past his lips.

“take me home, then,” you purr, glancing at him over your shoulder.

before you can blink, reality shifts, the thumping bass disappearing as the world blurs and twists. the next thing you know, you’re in a dimly lit penthouse, city lights sprawling beneath you. kai’s body is already pressing into yours, hands greedy, mouths colliding in a desperate, open mouthed kiss as you claw at each other, tugging at clothes like they’re offensive barriers.

“i’ve been waiting for you all fuckin’ night,” he groans against your lips, teeth grazing over your lower one before sucking it into his mouth. his hands are everywhere, roaming, squeezing, claiming.

“didn’t think i’d be your type,” you tease between kisses, nipping at his bottom lip.

kāi lets out a dark chuckle, lifting you effortlessly as he carries you deeper into the room, “you think i’d let just anyone make me this fucking desperate?” 

his free hand slides down your stomach, pressing lower, fingers slipping and dragging over the damp heat of your soaked panties. his breath catches, his entire body tensing as his fingers glide through the slick mess between your thighs.

“fuck,” he grits out, his hips rolling forward against you on pure instinct, letting you feel just how hard he already is. “you’re so wet for me already, baby. so fuckin’ ready.”

you struggle to catch your breath, still lightheaded from his grip, from the way his fingers move against you, teasing, barely touching, driving you insane. your body bucks against his, chasing friction, chasing more, but he just smirks, pulling away, leaving you gasping.

“kāi—”

“tell me you want me, baby.” his voice darkens, rough with warning, with command.

his fingers press in, slow, teasing, pushing just enough to make you whimper, to make you desperate.

“i—i want you,” you whisper, voice shaky, barely able to form the words past the heat crawling up your throat.

kāi curses under his breath, his body shuddering, his hand tightening on your throat for just a second, just enough to make your knees weak.

his arm releases you just enough for him to shove you forward, forcing you on to your hands and knees. his hand presses between your shoulder blades, pushing your chest down, forcing you into the mattress, keeping your ass high in the air.

his palm drags over your skin, slow, teasing, over the curve of your ass, down to where you’re already soaked, already throbbing for him.

“look at you,” he breathes, his voice drenched in hunger, in possession. “you’re fucking shaking.”

his fingers glide through the slick between your thighs, teasing, never giving you enough.

“so needy. so fuckin’ desperate. aren’t ‘cha, baby?”

his palm cracks down against your ass, sharp, punishing, making you jolt forward with a strangled gasp.

kāi just smirks, rubbing over the sting, soothing only to tease.

“you gonna take it like a good girl?”

you nod frantically, breathless, your fingers clenching in the sheets, already wrecked from just his touch.

kāi groans, low and deep, his head tilting back, his body shaking with restraint. “good—‘cause ’m not stoppin’ till you can’t walk.”

he doesn’t give you another second to prepare—he’s already lining himself up, already dragging the thick head of his cock through your sloppy folds, already pushing inside.

your body tenses, a broken gasp spilling from your lips as he stretches you open, forcing you to take every inch.

kāi hisses through his teeth, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you still, making sure you feel every inch of him sinking into you.

“that’s it, baby,” he grits out, voice hoarse, thick with pleasure. “take it. take all of it.”

his head drops forward, his lips parting around a guttural moan, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.

you feel so fucking good— he can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but fuck you.

his hips snap forward, hard, deep, forcing your body up the bed, forcing a sharp, choked-off moan from your throat.

his fingers tighten on your waist, anchoring himself, losing himself, fucking into you with sharp, brutal thrusts.

your moans shatter into something helpless, something completely wrecked.

kāi feels it all. he feels the way your walls clench, flutter, squeeze him like you never want to let him go. he feels the way your legs tremble beneath him, the way your nails dig into the sheets, the way your moans break into sobbed-out gasps, too much, too good, too deep.

“fuck—”

the groan rips from his throat, deep and ragged, breaking apart as his head drops forward, damp hair falling into his eyes, sweat dripping down his temple, chain swaying against your back with every sharp snap of his hips.

his hands slide down, rough and desperate, gripping your waist, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin, holding you there, pulling you back onto him, making you take every inch, forcing you to feel just how desperate he is.

he’s already too deep, too wrecked, too far gone. his jaw clenches, his breath stuttering, his thighs flexing beneath you as he fights for control, fights to hold himself together, fights the need to cum too fast because you feel too fucking good.

and then—you move.

your hips roll, slow and deliberate, fucking yourself onto him, making him feel every single inch, squeezing him tight, dragging him in deeper.

kāi freezes.

his grip tightens, sharp inhale cutting through the heavy air, his body tensing behind you.

and then he snaps.

his hands fly to your hips, fingers digging in, nails pressing deep, holding you down as he fucks into you with sharp, punishing thrusts, forcing a wrecked sob from your lips.

“holy shit—” his voice is hoarse, ruined, completely unraveling.

his rhythm stumbles, pace turning rougher, harder, deeper. he's fucking you like he needs it, like he’s lost in it, like you’ve just pushed him over the edge and now he can’t stop.

his fingers slip between your thighs, finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles, the contrast between the rough snap of his hips and the slow, torturous pleasure of his fingers making your body shake.

“gonna make you all fuckin’ mine, baby,” he grits out, hips snapping, faster, deeper, unrelenting.

your body locks up, shatters, pleasure slamming into you so hard your breath cuts off, leaving you gasping, shaking, sobbing his name.

he feels you tightening, pulsing, trembling beneath him, and it ruins him.

his hands fly up, grabbing your shoulders, dragging you back onto him, meeting you thrust for thrust, slamming so deep you swear you can feel him everywhere.

his breath stutters, groan breaking into something raw, something desperate. his forehead presses into the back of your neck, his lips dragging over your sweat-damp skin, panting, shaking, completely fucking wrecked.

his hips roll forward, pressing in deep, grinding so slowly it makes your head spin. you jolt, breath catching, a broken little whimper spilling from your lips as the overwhelming sensation crashes through you.

kāi groans, his head dropping forward, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, damp dark green hair sticking to his forehead.

“so sensitive already?” he taunts, voice mocking, playful, so damn smooth it makes your stomach tighten. “but we’ve barely started.”

your breath stutters, body trembling, pleasure crackling through your veins like fire.

“kāi, s’too much!” you gasp, the sound breathless, desperate, wrecked beyond repair.

he grins against your skin, his fingers tightening on your hips, his grip bruising, unrelenting.

and then—you try to shift.

just the smallest movement, a desperate attempt to pull away from the overstimulation, from the way he’s pressing so deep, from the way your body is still pulsing around him.

but he’s not having it.

his arm slides around your waist, yanking you back, shoving you down, holding you in place.

“oh, no, baby,” he coos, voice dripping with amusement, with dominance. “where do ya think you’re going?”

his free hand trails down your stomach, teasing, fingertips dragging over your trembling thighs before pressing between them, parting them wider.

“you can keep going.” his voice is low, commanding, drenched in certainty. “you’re still drippin’ f’me—fuck, look at you, baby.”

your lashes flutter, eyes hazy, dazed, barely able to focus—but then he forces you to look.

his hand slips under your chin, tilting your head down, forcing your gaze between your legs, forcing you to see exactly how much of a mess you’ve made.

and fuck—he’s right.

your slick coats your thighs, dripping down your skin, pooling onto the sheets beneath you, messy, obscene, proof of just how wrecked you are, proof of how much you love this.

kāi groans, voice low and wrecked, completely undone.

“shit, baby—” his fingers dig deeper into your skin, his cock twitching inside you at the sight. “she still wants me, huh?”

his hips pull back, dragging out slow, teasing, before slamming forward again, making you cry out, making your body arch beneath him.

his hands grip your hips, flipping you effortlessly onto your back. your breath stumbles, body shifting, legs instinctively parting as he settles between them, his weight pressing down, his chest hot against yours.

his eyes meet yours, dark and blown-out, filled with something ravenous.

“gonna watch you, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw, voice molten against your skin. “gonna watch every fucking second while i fill you up.”

his fingers wrap around the backs of your knees, pushing them up, bending you in half, folding you under him until your ankles hook over his shoulders.

mating press.

deep. suffocating. brutal.

his next thrust knocks the breath from your lungs, the angle hitting so perfectly, so mercilessly, that your head tips back, a wrecked moan spilling past your lips.

kai groans, grinding forward, rolling his hips, pressing deeper, chasing the way you tremble beneath him, the way you clench around him.

“fuck—” his voice is wrecked, breathless, completely gone. “ya feel that? feel how deep i am, baby?”

his hands grip the backs of your thighs, holding you still, keeping you open, keeping you exactly where he needs you.

his lips drag along your ear, voice rough and commanding.

“gonna fuck my cum so deep inside you, you’ll still feel me tomorrow.” he pants, hips snapping forward, grinding deep, making you take it. 

his words send heat pooling in your stomach, twisting tighter, unbearable, your body teetering on the edge.

“you gonna cum again, baby?” his tone is mocking, but desperate, hungry, like he wants it just as much as you.

you nod, gasping, shaking, barely able to hold on.

kāi groans, his hands slipping down to your stomach, pressing down, feeling himself inside you, pushing even deeper.

“that’s right, baby,” he breathes, his lips brushing against yours, sweat-damp and feverish. “gimme another one.”

your body shudders, pleasure tearing through you like wildfire, your breath catching, back arching, thighs trembling as you break beneath him.

kāi moans, long and low, feeling every pulsing squeeze of your walls, every desperate tremor of your body, every fucking aftershock of your orgasm rolling through you.

“fuck, baby—” his voice is wrecked, almost hoarse, his breath catching. “gonna—fuck—”

his hips stutter, slam forward, grind deep, and then—

he breaks.

his jaw goes slack, his body locks up, his cock twitches inside you, and then he’s spilling deep, hips jerking through every thick pulse of his release, filling you up, stuffing you full, keeping you there, keeping you under him, keeping himself buried inside you as he groans through the aftershocks.

his forehead drops against yours, damp hair sticking to his skin, his breath uneven, his body trembling.

“holy shit,” he exhales, his voice barely there, soft and wrecked and completely lost.

his hands slide over your thighs, up your sides, up to your face, his fingers tracing over your jaw, soft, slow, reverent.

his lips skim against yours, lazy, claiming, pressing in deeper, messier, letting you feel exactly how wrecked he is.“you’re mine,” he whispers, voice still shaking. “and i’m not fuckin’ done with you yet.”

⟢ chanyeøl

“your eyes told me, ‘girl, come ride me!’”

he can’t move.

his wrists are bound to the headboard, silver chains stretching taut, clinking against metal every time he tugs. every sharp movement makes them rattle, the sound cutting through the thick, heated air, a constant reminder that he’s helpless beneath you. his arms flex with the effort, biceps straining, veins prominent beneath flushed, sweat-damp skin, muscles coiled so tight it’s agonizing. tension rolls through his body in suffocating waves, every nerve set alight, every inch of him aching, burning, starving for more.

and you? you’re fucking killing him.

straddling his lap, hips rolling in slow, torturous circles, your body moving with deliberate cruelty. the drag of your slick heat around his cock is exquisite, unbearable, devastating. you keep it agonizingly slow, a teasing rhythm that drives him insane, that keeps him hanging on the edge but never lets him fall.

he feels everything.

the way your walls clench and flutter every time you shift, the slick warmth of you wrapped so tight around him, the delicious friction that makes his breath stutter and his fingers twitch—except he can’t touch you.

he can only watch. only feel. only suffer.

his pink hair is damp with sweat, messy strands sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed, lips parted around ragged breaths. his chest rises and falls in sharp, uneven motions, every exhale shuddering through him like he’s barely holding it together.

his eyes—heavy-lidded, dark, desperate—stay locked onto you, filled with frustration, hunger, something utterly feral.

you grind down just a little harder, squeeze just a little tighter, let a slow, knowing smirk curl your lips—

and chanyeøl groans, head pressing back into the pillows, jaw clenched so tight it aches.

“baby,” he grits out, voice wrecked, deep, thick with warning. “stop fuckin’ teasin’ me.”

but you only tilt your head, lashes low, lips curling into something playful, something cruel, something that lets him know you’re not stopping anytime soon.

“why would i stop?” you murmur, voice sweet, teasing, soaked in mischief.

your fingers trail down his chest, slow, deliberate, nails scraping lightly over the firm planes of muscle, tracing along every dip, every ridge. the moment you reach his abs, you press down just slightly, feeling the way they clench, the way his entire body tightens, the way his breath shudders out of him in something between a groan and a curse.

but you’re not in a hurry.

your nails drag lower, teasing over his stomach, feeling the heat radiating off his skin, feeling every single slight tremor that runs through him.

then—you reach for the candle.

the wax is molten, thick and slow-moving, swirling in liquid fire within its glass prison. your fingers curl around it, lifting it carefully, tilting it just enough to let a single droplet gather at the edge—

and then it falls.

chanyeøl sucks in a sharp breath, every muscle in his body locking up as the wax splashes against his skin. it sears hot for the barest second before cooling, solidifying into something firm and unyielding, a mark of your control, your dominance, your ownership over him.

his breath stutters, his fingers flex, the chains rattling violently as he fights against them.

but he’s not fighting you.

no, he wants more.

you see it in his eyes, dark and blown-out, see it in the way his lips part, the way his thighs tense beneath you, the way his entire body reacts to the sensation.

so you give it to him.

another drip.

then another.

each one landing lower, dragging down his stomach, tracing the ridges of his muscles, painting a sinful path that has him breathing ragged, has him groaning deep in his chest, has him losing himself completely beneath you.

“you like that?” you whisper, voice nothing but a breath of air against his sweat-damp skin.

his jaw clenches, his hips bucking up instinctively, seeking more, needing more, but the chains keep him still, keep him bound, keep him at your mercy.

his pink hair is an absolute mess now, wild and untamed, sticking to his forehead in damp strands, his entire body slick with sweat, his skin gleaming beneath the dim candlelight.

and god, he looks fucking ruined.

but not enough.

you drag the candle higher, letting it hover over his chest, watching the way his abs clench, the way his fingers twitch, the way his lips part like he’s about to beg—

but then—

the chains snap.

heat surges, an overwhelming wave of raw power bursting from within him, and before you can react, before you can even blink, his wrists are free, silver links falling uselessly to the mattress, charred, burned through like they were never meant to hold him in the first place.

your breath catches.

the candle tumbles from your grip, caught effortlessly by his hand before it can spill another drop.

then his hands are on your hips, a bruising grip of pure desperation as he yanks you down onto him. no hesitation, no warning—just pure, raw need. his breath is ragged, his chest heaving, his entire body trembling with restraint, with need, with something dark and insatiable.

“ya really thought you could tease me like that?” his voice is a growl, low and wrecked, thick with amusement, thick with something more dangerous. “thought you could fuckin’ break me?”

his hips grind against yours, slow, deliberate, making you feel every thick, heavy inch of him pressing against your core, making you tremble, making you whimper, making you realize—

you’ve lost control.

chanyeøl smirks, lips curving into something dark, something devastating, something that promises you’re not leaving this bed without remembering who he is.

“my turn, baby.”

his grip is brutal, unrelenting, a bruising force of raw hunger and pent-up aggression. his fingers sink into the soft flesh of your hips, digging deep, holding tight, dragging you down with such devastating strength that the air gets knocked from your lungs the moment he slams you onto his cock.

you choke on a gasp, body seizing, nails clawing at his arms, your mind struggling to catch up with the sheer force of him—

but he doesn’t give you time.

doesn’t give you room to process the way he stretches you open, the way he fills you so deep you swear you can feel him in your fucking stomach.

he breathes, voice wrecked, thick with relief, with amusement, with something darker. his pink hair is a mess, sweat-damp and wild, strands sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted around heavy, uneven breaths.

his hands tighten, nails pressing into your skin, his grip so firm you know you’ll feel it tomorrow, know you’ll wake up with marks of his desperation painted across your body.

he keeps you there, keeps you pressed against him, keeps you right where he wants you, caging you in with his heat, his size, his overwhelming presence.

his smirk is devastating, nothing but pure sin, sharp edges and dark amusement curving his lips as he tilts his head, as his breath spills hot against your mouth.

“ya wanted to ride me?” his voice drips with something dangerous, something mocking, something completely and utterly in control. “then fucking ride.”

his hips snap up, sharp and unrelenting, the sheer force knocking the breath from your lungs, punching a strangled gasp from your throat, sending your body jolting from the impact. the air leaves you in a shuddering exhale, your moan breaking into something fractured, something wrecked, something high and breathless, barely coherent over the ruthless slap of skin against skin.

your vision blurs at the edges, a hazy, pleasure-drunk mess, the world narrowing to nothing but the overwhelming sensation of him—his hands on you, his cock buried so fucking deep inside you, his breath against your throat, the sound of his groans rasping against your skin, the desperation coating his every movement.

you try to move, try to match his pace, try to meet the brutal snap of his hips, but he doesn’t let you—doesn’t give you room, doesn’t give you control. your nails sink into his shoulders, clawing at him, grasping at the sweat-slicked muscle beneath your fingers, searching for something to hold onto, something to ground you. but chanyeøl doesn’t give you that either.

he doesn’t give you a choice.

his grip tightens, fingers digging in, palms spreading wide across your waist, holding you down, keeping you locked against him, keeping you exactly where he wants you. his thrusts turn ruthless, merciless, slamming up into you so hard you swear you can feel him everywhere, every thick inch stretching you, pressing into every devastating spot that has your body convulsing, your thighs trembling, your stomach tightening.

he’s completely lost now. completely feral. completely gone.

his moan rips through the room, raw and guttural, nothing but pure wreckage, his chest heaving, his body trembling, his muscles flexing beneath your fingers as his rhythm falters for just a second—just long enough for him to collect himself, to gather what little restraint he has left.

“that’s it, baby,” his voice is wrecked, shaking, breaking apart on every syllable, pure desperation dripping from his tongue. “take it—fuck, take all of it.”

his teeth find your throat, grazing, dragging over the flushed, heated skin, nipping and sucking, leaving bruises in his wake, marking you as his. his lips travel lower, over the curve of your shoulder, along your collarbone, pressing open-mouthed kisses between every sharp, gasping inhale. his breath is hot, uneven, barely controlled, every exhale ghosting over your skin like he’s worshipping the way you fall apart for him.

“god, you feel so fucking good.”

his voice drops to a whisper, hoarse and trembling, more for himself than for you. his hips grind forward, deep, slow for just a moment, dragging out the sensation, pressing into you so perfectly, pushing against that one spot that makes your back arch, that makes your walls flutter, that makes you gasp out his name like a prayer.

he chuckles—low, teasing, smug—but there’s no steadiness to it, no confidence, just something wrecked, something helpless, something fucking lost in you.

“gonna make you cum all over my cock just like this, baby.”

his pace stutters, sharp, erratic, his control slipping, his own pleasure climbing too fast, too high, too much.

“fuck—” his moan is low, guttural, his head falling back, pink hair damp with sweat, strands sticking to his forehead, clinging to his temples, his entire body gleaming, flushed, overheated.

his hands slide down your waist, palms pressing into your stomach, holding you still, anchoring you to him as he grinds into you, as he feels you squeeze around him, as he feels you unravel.

his voice is a whisper, breathless and ruined.

“you gonna cum for me?”

your body locks up, muscles tightening, thighs clenching, every nerve in your body winding tighter and tighter, the pleasure swelling inside you, mounting, consuming.

“y-yes!”

your voice breaks, your hands gripping onto him, onto anything, onto whatever will keep you grounded as the pressure twists in your gut, as it builds too high, too fast, too fucking overwhelming.

chanyeøl groans, a low, drawn-out sound, his chest rumbling against yours as he dips his head, lips dragging along your jaw, breath hot against your ear.

his fingers slip between your thighs, sliding against your clit, rubbing in tight, perfect circles, relentless, knowing exactly how to ruin you, knowing exactly how to make you break.

his pace turns frantic, desperate, his thrusts losing rhythm, losing precision, his body trembling as he chases your pleasure, as he chases his own.

“then cum, baby—” his voice is a command, low and rough, breath catching as he feels your walls pulse around him, as he feels you tense, as he feels you start to fall apart.

and fuck— you do.

the pleasure slams into you like a shockwave, too much, too strong, so intense your entire body locks up, a choked sob ripping from your throat as you shudder, convulse, lose yourself in the heat, the overwhelming flood of sensation crashing over you in waves.

your nails dig into his back, raking down the sweat-slicked muscle, clutching at him like he’s the only thing tethering you to the earth. your walls tighten, pulse, clench around him in desperate aftershocks, and you swear you can hear the way he chokes on his next breath, the way his body seizes beneath you, the way he completely fucking loses it.

“oh my god—” your voice breaks, barely even words, nothing but breath and sound and wreckage. “so deep—fuck, yeøl—feels so good! feels too fuckin’ good—”

chanyeøl curses, deep and filthy, a ragged groan ripped straight from his chest, shaking beneath you, trembling, muscles flexing and tightening like he’s on the very edge of ruin.

“jesus fuckin’ christ, baby—” his voice is barely a whisper, barely human, hoarse and guttural, completely wrecked.

his hands are everywhere, gripping your waist, your hips, your thighs, as if he can’t decide where he wants to hold you, where he wants to feel you, if he even wants to hold on at all or if he just wants to let go, let himself completely fucking break.

“shit—" he gasps, voice catching, his hips faltering, losing rhythm, losing control.

he feels everything. every flutter, every squeeze, every pulsing, desperate grip of your gummy walls dragging him deeper, milking him, pulling him under.

his head tilts back, jaw slack, eyes fluttering shut as his entire body locks up and then—he shatters.

his moan is long, drawn-out, completely destroyed, something between a groan and a plea, something raw and helpless, something utterly fucking wrecked.

his hips stutter, slam forward one last time, pressing deep, grinding as his cock pulses inside you, as he spills hot and thick, filling you, stuffing you full, making sure you feel it, making sure he’s buried so deep you won’t be able to forget it.

his fingers tighten, gripping you like he never wants to let go, like he wants to stay right here, like he’s trying to mold himself to you, like this is the only thing that makes sense anymore.

his breath stumbles, uneven gasps falling from his lips, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, his entire body trembling beneath yours.

your hands slide up into his hair, fingers threading through damp, pink strands, holding him against you as he tries to catch his breath, as he comes down from the high, as he struggles to even comprehend the wreckage you just left him in.

and then—he laughs.

soft, breathless, utterly amused, the sound warm and lazy against your skin, like he can’t believe how fucking good that was, like he’s still trying to process it.

his arms wrap around you, dragging you closer, pulling you flush against his chest, keeping you in place, keeping you exactly where he wants you, his lips pressing against your temple, slow, affectionate, completely different from the way he just ruined you.

“damn,” he chuckles, grinning against your skin, voice still thick with exhaustion, with satisfaction, with something teasing. “should’ve broken out sooner.”

⟢ sehůn

“i heard from a friend of a friend that that dick was a 10/10!”

you don’t hesitate.

there’s no second-guessing, no last-minute doubts gnawing at the edges of your resolve. you know exactly what you want, and tonight, you’re taking it.

your first time? it has to be good. not just good—worth it. unforgettable. none of that clumsy, awkward, hesitant nonsense. no fumbling hands or uncertain touches. no half-hearted attempts at pleasure. you want something that sets the standard so high, every encounter after this either rises to meet it—

or crashes and burns in comparison.

so when the rumors started swirling—whispers passed from friend to friend, low voices dripping with scandal—you listened. you heard about sehůn. about the way he ruins girls. about how he fucks like he has something to prove, like he needs to leave a mark, like he’s got a goddamn legacy to uphold. you heard that he’s got a fucking 10/10 between his legs, that he knows exactly how to use it, that he has girls losing their minds over it.

and that’s when you made up your mind.

which brings you here. now.

and sehůn? he’s unraveling.

“holy fuck, baby—”

his voice is wrecked, raw and hoarse, cracking under the weight of whatever the hell you’re doing to him. his gaze is locked between your bodies, pupils blown wide as he watches—watches—the way you take him, how your body stretches around every thick, veined inch of him, how your slick heat clings to him like you don’t want to let go.

he moves slow. deep. careful.

because fuck—he’s huge.

long, thick, stretching you open inch by inch, filling you up so perfectly, so completely, it knocks the air from your lungs. your thighs tremble, heat pooling deep in your core, every nerve ending alight. your nails dig into his arms, a sharp contrast to the slow, deliberate way he pushes in, making you feel every inch, every vein, every unbearable second of it.

too much. too good. too deep.

“oh my god,” you gasp, back arching, the burn of the stretch sharp and unrelenting, overwhelming in the best possible way. the pain fades into something hotter, something dizzying, something addictive.

above you, sehůn groans, teeth clenched so tight his jaw ticks, hands gripping your waist like a lifeline. his fingers flex against your skin, the tension in his arms evident, every muscle in his body coiled tight as he forces himself to move slow—forces himself to not snap his hips forward, not fuck you deep and raw and desperate.

because he can’t. because this is your first time. because fuck, he wants to ruin you, wants to wreck you, wants to make it so good that nothing, no one, will ever compare.

“ s-so fuckin’ tight,” he rasps, voice strained, uneven, breaking under the sheer effort it takes to hold back. his head tilts back, throat bobbing as he swallows hard, his fingers digging into your waist. too much. too perfect. too fucking good.

his hands tremble as they slide down, past your ribs, lower, lower—

then he presses. right below your navel.

his breath catches.

“holy shit, baby—”

you blink, dazed, breathless, pulse roaring in your ears as you follow his gaze down—

and fuck— you see it.

the outline of him. thick and deep, pressing against your stomach, buried so far inside you that you can see the way he stretches you, the way he fills you.

sehůn lets out a wrecked, shuddering breath, his eyes glazed over, his thumb tracing over the bulge like he can’t fucking believe it.

“look at that,” he groans, voice breaking. “fuck, sweetheart. i’m so deep inside you.”

sehůn groans, low and wrecked, something primal flickering behind his eyes, his fingers flexing against your belly, pressing down just slightly, just enough to feel himself inside you, just enough to make his cock twitch, just enough to make you moan, high and broken and absolutely ruined.

“fuck,” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut, body jolting at the pressure, at the weight of him, at the way he just keeps sinking deeper. “so fuckin’ big.”

sehůn lets out a breathless laugh, something between smug and delirious, something completely pussy drunk.

“yeah?”

you nod, eyes hazy, lips parting, your voice softer now, higher, sweeter.

“s'good.”

his breath stutters, his heart pounding, something thick and hot curling in his stomach at the way you’re taking him, at the way you’re looking up at him like he’s the only thing in the world right now.

his fingers press deeper into your belly, his lips dragging along your jaw, his breath shaky.

you let out the softest whimper, legs trembling around his waist, your body clenching down around him, so tight, so wet, so fucking sweet.

and sehůn? he’s fucking losing it.

his body is trembling, sweat rolling down his spine, damp strands of black hair clinging to his forehead, his jaw slack, his eyes dark, unfocused, his grip on your waist so tight it’s almost bruising. his breath stumbles, breaking over the sharp gasps leaving his lips, wrecked, helpless, completely fucking gone.

his grip tightens, fingers pressing deep into your waist, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself together, to keep his control, to not fucking break. but he’s slipping—you can feel it in the way his hips stutter, in the way his voice shakes, in the way his nails dig into your skin like he’s trying to keep himself tethered to something real.

“gonna claim you, baby—fuck—gonna ruin you.”

his voice is low, rough, cracking under the weight of his own desperation, thick with need, with something raw, something wild, something completely fucking unhinged.

his hips snap forward, deep, fast, rough, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs, making your fingers clutch at him, nails biting into his sweat-slicked back.

he groans at the sting, the sound broken, wrecked, so fucking desperate.

“gonna fuck you so deep, so good, you’ll never want anyone else—"

his words hit like fire, heat spreading through you, searing, melting, consuming.

because you don’t. you don’t want anyone else. no one could ever fuck you like this. no one could ever make you feel like this. no one but him.

“gonna make this pretty pussy take the shape of my cock—”

his words are filth, pure sin, dripping from his lips like a promise, like a vow, like an unshakable truth.

your body reacts instantly, your walls clenching, pulsing, gripping him tighter, your legs wrapping around him, holding him closer, keeping him exactly where you need him, exactly where he belongs.

your practically breathless, wrecked, high and needy, gasping, pleading, your fingers dragging down the flexing muscles in his back, leaving scratches, leaving marks, claiming him the same way he’s claiming you.

because if oh sehůn’s the only dick you’ll ever have for the rest of your life—

you don’t fucking care.

as long as you can cum like this, as long as he fucks you like this, as long as he keeps filling you, stretching you, ruining you, making sure no one else can ever have you.

no one could ever compare.

you dig your nails in harder, dragging them over his skin, feeling the way his entire body tenses, the way his cock twitches inside you, the way he moans against your throat, high and broken and completely undone.

his forehead falls against yours, his breath mingling with yours, hot, heavy, wrecked.

“gonna cum,” he pants, voice barely above a whisper, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you down onto him, making you take all of him, every inch, every thick, perfect inch stretching you, filling you, ruining you. “fuck, baby, gimme one more—”

you let out a choked sob, every thrust sending fire through your veins, sending pleasure rippling through your body, tightening, twisting, coiling too tight, too much, too good—

“sehůn! fuck—”

his grip tightens, his fingers sliding down between your bodies, rubbing messy, fast circles over your clit, his voice a rough command against your lips.

“yeah, pretty, that's it—fuckin' cum for me—”

your body locks up, pleasure crashing over you, white-hot, mind-numbing, overwhelming. your walls flutter, clench, pulse around him, and sehůn completely fucking breaks.

“oh, fuck—”

his moan is wrecked, completely shattered, his hips slamming forward, pressing so fucking deep you swear you feel him everywhere, his cock throbbing inside you, hot and thick, filling you up, stuffing you full, making sure you take every last drop.

his body shudders, fingers gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he’s trying to keep you here, like he needs this, like he needs you.

his forehead rests against yours, his breath heavy, uneven, his voice barely a whisper.

“shit, baby—never felt anything like this—”

his voice is wrecked, breathless, torn straight from his chest like he can’t believe what just happened, like he’s trying to catch up, trying to process the way you just ruined him.

you smirk, slow and lazy, lips parted, chest rising and falling in uneven waves. bliss coats your skin, warm and slick against his, the aftershocks still pulsing through you, still making your legs weak, your body hum.

you let out a breathless laugh, the sound light, teasing, laced with exhaustion. “was this your first time or mine?”

sehůn huffs out a rough laugh, but there’s no real bite to it, just something wild and wrecked in the way his arms tighten around you, his grip unrelenting, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go for even a second.

his lips find your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw—soft but firm, slow but desperate, like he’s mapping you out, memorizing the way you taste, the way you feel under his hands, against his skin.

“nah, baby,” he murmurs, voice nothing but gravel, nothing but heat against your pulse. “more like this is my last first time with anyone—”

his fingers press deeper into your hips, like he’s making sure you hear him, feel him, understand exactly what he means. his lips brush yours, breath warm, gaze dark, possessive.

“'cus this pussy is mine for life.”

⟢ kyüngsoo

“spank me, slap me, choke me, bite me!”

it all started as a joke. just harmless fun.

it’s friday night and you and your girls had gone to the ëxø bar, a place whispered about in certain circles—where the drinks were stronger, the air was heavier, and the men who owned it… well, no one really knew what they were. just that they were different. powerful. something more.

so, of course, after a few drinks, the conversation had taken a turn.

“i bet they’re fucking insane in bed,” one of your friends giggled, stirring her drink lazily. “imagine the things they could do to you.”

you had laughed, tipsy and unbothered, the warmth of alcohol making you bolder. “i dunno. some of them look like they could ruin you. like, completely wreck your shit.”

“which one do you think would fuck the best?” someone else teased, nudging you playfully.

your gaze had drifted—just for a second—to him. kyüngsoo. the one with the sharp eyes and the ridiculous shoulders, sitting in the corner nursing his drink like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

“that one,” you had murmured, half to yourself. “he looks like he wouldn’t stop until you were a fucking mess.”

you didn’t know then that he could hear you.

but he did.

and now? now you’re here, in his bed, screaming his name like a prayer.

kyüngsoo has you folded, ass high in the air, face buried in the mattress as he pounds into you like he’s trying to break you apart and put you back together again. his grip on your hips is brutal, fingers digging in like he wants to leave bruises, like he wants you to remember this every time you see yourself in the mirror.

“this how you imagined it, baby?” his voice is rough, teasing, so fucking cocky. “when you were giggling with your little friends—wondering how i’d fuck you?”

you try to answer, but all that comes out is a choked moan, your back arching as he lands a sharp smack to your ass.

“answer me.”

you barely manage to stutter out, “it’s e-even b-better!” before he’s yanking you up, one thick arm wrapping around your neck in a headlock.

his strength is inhuman, his body unrelenting, his cock hitting that spot inside you over and over like he’s got something to prove. and maybe he does. maybe he wants you to know that no one else could ever fuck you like this.

his hand slides up, fingers wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin, to make your body throb around him.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, voice rough against your ear. “pretty little pussy taking me so well. just like i knew it fuckin’ would.”

you’re gone, completely wrecked, every thought in your head wiped clean except for him. his strength, his power, the way he’s fucking you like he owns you.

the moment you start throwing it back, meeting him stroke for stroke, something in kyüngsoo snaps.

his power—his inhuman strength—was something he had always kept under control. always measured, always careful. but not now.

now?

he grabs you, one arm looping around your waist, lifting you clean off the bed like you weigh nothing, like you’re just a doll for him to use. you barely have time to gasp before he’s slamming you back down onto his cock, impaling you so deep you see stars.

“fuck—” your breath hitches, nails digging into his wrist as he manhandles you with ease, bouncing you on his cock like you’re just a toy for his pleasure.

“this what you wanted, doll?” his voice is dark, ragged, dangerous. “you wanna fuck me back? wanna take it like a big girl?”

his grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise, and then he’s fucking up into you, his strength making it so you don’t have to move at all—just take it, just let him use you.

your moans are broken, breathless, your body limp in his grasp, barely able to handle the sheer force of his thrusts.

“too much?” kyüngsoo's voice is thick with amusement, a dark tease laced with mockery. his free hand cracks against your ass, the sharp sting making you jolt in his grip. he feels the way you shudder, the way your walls flutter around him. weak. trembling. desperate.

his lips brush your ear, his teeth grazing the shell as he purrs, “nah—you can take it. you were talkin’ all that shit in the bar, weren’t you?” another slap lands, harder this time, and you whimper. “so take it.”

kyüngsoo’s grip tightens on your hips, holding you steady as he fucks into you, his full strength unleashed. the bedframe creaks, the entire thing rocking under the sheer force of his thrusts, his cock slamming into you like he’s trying to fuck you through the mattress. 

and he is.

your fingers scramble for purchase, clawing at the sheets, moans spilling from your lips in helpless little cries.

“w-want you so bad, ‘soo! hah—can’t get enough!” your voice is almost slurred, pleasure consuming you, your body begging for him.

he lets out a deep, primal groan, his whole body shuddering, and then—

he grabs you.

one hand wrenches your wrists behind your back, pinning them effortlessly, holding you captive with his sheer strength. his other hand? it wraps around your throat, squeezing, controlling your every breath, forcing you to stay exactly where he wants you. his hips snap forward, unrelenting, each stroke making the bed shake, making you sob with pleasure.

“huh? what’s wrong?” his tone is pure mockery, amusement curling around the edges of his words as he watches you fall apart. “thought you wanted to keep up? but look at you—”

he lets go of your wrists just to shove you down, flattening you into the mattress, his weight crushing you in the best way.

“can’t even move anymore, can you?”

he’s right. you can’t. you’re wrecked, nothing but a quivering mess, your body his to use.

his thrusts grow sloppier, harder, inhumanly deep, and then—

he roars, his grip on your throat tightening, his cock pulsing as he spills into you, filling you up so deep you swear you can feel it everywhere.

and the worst part?

you still want more.

⟢ suhø

“i just wanna know if you can fuck on me better!”

the bass from the club inside pulses through the walls of the dimly lit parking lot, but in here—inside the tight, fogged-up space of suhø’s car—there’s only the sound of your breathy moans and the wet, filthy slap of skin on skin.

you don’t even remember how you got here, how the casual, half-serious conversation over drinks turned into you being splayed out beneath him, your dress hiked up around your waist, his hands gripping your thighs like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

but you remember what he said.

“i can fuck you better.”

you had scoffed. rolled your eyes. told him every guy says that.

and yet—fifteen minutes later, you’re gasping for air, body trembling from the second orgasm he’s wrung out of you with nothing but precise, calculated thrusts that are too damn good. you hate car sex. always found it uncomfortable, never got off, never felt like it was worth the trouble.

but now?

now you’re draped over the center console, one knee propped up against the window, his fingers sinking into your flesh as he fucks into you so good, so deep, you swear you’re about to shatter. your body is still pulsing from the last climax, but you feel another one creeping up fast, winding tight in your gut, making your thighs tremble as suhø leans down, lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

“you have no idea how fucking long i’ve wanted you like this,” his fingers slide down to press against your swollen clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. you jolt, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as pleasure ripples through you.

“suhø—fuck—”

“hated every time you brought that fucking loser to my fucking bar.” his voice is low, rough, strained with the effort of holding back, “knowing he couldn’t make you feel this way—knowing it should’ve been me. should’ve always been me.”

you let out a breathless laugh, barely coherent. “if i knew you were gonna fuck me like this, i would’ve left him a long time ago.”

suhø groans against your skin, teeth scraping lightly against your jaw before he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with something dangerous.

“yeah?” his hips slow, rolling into you deep enough to make you gasp. “then why the fuck did you waste so much time on him?”

“dunno,” you tease, even as your breath stutters. “bad decisions, i guess.”

“damn right,” he grunts, hand sliding down between your bodies, fingers pressing against your clit. “good thing i’m fixing that now.”

your back arches as you keen his name, body responding to him in ways it never has for anyone else.

“you feel it, don’t you?” he murmurs, “you’re close again. i can feel you squeezing me.”

and you are—you’re right there, teetering on the edge, but you need something more.

with a desperate push, you press against his chest, flipping him over, straddling his lap. his head tips back against the headrest, hands automatically falling to your hips as you sink down onto him, nails digging into his shoulders.

“god—” he groans, voice tight, “look at you. fucking perfect.”

you roll your hips, slow at first, watching the way his jaw tenses, his fingers flexing against your skin. but then something inside you snaps, and you move faster, chasing that peak, riding him until the pleasure becomes unbearable.

“that’s it, baby,” he grits out, meeting your rhythm with sharp thrusts, “show me how bad you need it—”

you sob his name, and then—fuck—

it crashes over you like a tidal wave. your body locks up, pleasure consuming you as you squirt all over him, the wet, messy sound of it echoing in the car. suhø groans deep in his chest, a rough, guttural sound as his grip tightens, his cock twitching inside you before he thrusts up one last time, spilling deep inside you with a shaky, “fuck—yes—”

the only sound left is your panting breaths, the creak of the car as it rocks gently back and forth. the windows are completely fogged, the air thick with heat and sweat and sex.

suhø exhales heavily, hands roaming up your sides, fingers tracing gentle patterns against your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“dump him,” he murmurs against your hair, “get with me instead.”

you hum, still catching your breath. “mmm, that’s a tempting offer.”

suhø scoffs, his grip tightening on your waist. “tempting? baby, i just made you cum three times. what’s there to think about?”

you smirk, trailing your fingers along his collarbone. “true. maybe i need more convincing.”

his jaw clenches, eyes darkening as he flips you back onto the seat in one swift motion, spreading your thighs apart again.

“oh, i’ll fucking convince you.”

his fingers dip between your legs, already teasing, already coaxing another moan from your lips.

“i can take care of you,” he whispers, gaze locked onto yours. “just leave him.”

⟢ baëkhyun

“baby come throw the pipe. gotta know what it’s like!”

your breathing is a trembling mess, uneven gasps breaking apart into soft, choked-off moans, and baëkhyun hears every single bit of it. it’s like your body is singing for him, and he’s so fucking tuned in, so hyperaware, so ruined by the way you fall apart beneath him. he feels the way your chest rises and falls in shallow, needy pants, the way your fingers claw at the sheets like you’re trying to ground yourself, the way your thighs tremble as they lock tighter around his waist. but nothing—nothing—compares to the way your gummy walls flutter and clench around him, gripping him like you never want to let him go. and fuck—he groans, deep and guttural, head dropping forward, fingers digging into your waist so hard they might bruise.

he’s never felt anything like this. it’s not inexperience. he’s had more than his fair share of bodies under him, pretty little things crying for him, scratching down his back as he made them come undone. but this? you? it’s too much. too hot, too tight, too good, dragging him under and drowning him in sensation so intense it turns his nerves raw. every squeeze, every slick pull of your body around him, every little pulse of your walls milking him for more—he feels it too clearly, too sharp, like his body was made for this, for you, for the unbearable pleasure of sinking into you and losing himself completely.

his head tilts back, silver chain catching the dim light, the delicate links shifting with every brutal roll of his hips. his breath is ragged, his body shaking, white hair clinging to his damp forehead as he fights to keep control—fights not to let you drag him under completely. but he’s losing. fuck, he’s losing. the way you take him, the way your heat tightens, flexes, pulls him in deeper like you were made to keep him buried inside—it’s breaking him down, reducing him to nothing but the sharp, desperate need to fuck you harder, to chase the feeling of you unraveling beneath him, for him, because of him.

his head tilts back, throat exposed, taut with restraint, jaw clenched so tight it feels like it might snap. the delicate chains draped across his face glint under the dim light, shifting with every sharp breath, every tremor of pleasure rolling through him, the cool metal a stark contrast against his burning skin. he’s holding on by a thread, barely keeping himself together, but fuck—you're making it impossible.

you're so tight around him, so fucking warm, gripping him like you don’t want to let him go, like you’re trying to pull him deeper, ruin him completely. every slick drag of your walls around his cock sends a fresh surge of heat rushing up his spine, settling low in his gut, twisting tighter, hotter, more unbearable by the second. his fingers dig into your hips, possessive, brutal, leaving behind a promise in the shape of bruises. he wants you to feel this, wants you aching tomorrow, wants you to remember who fucked you like this, who made you come apart.

his breath stutters, his grip tightening like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. “oh, baby,” he groans, voice wrecked, hoarse, barely more than a breathless rasp. “ya have no fuckin’ idea what you’re doing to me.”

but you do.

you know exactly what you’re doing.

your lips part in a slow, smug little smirk, body arching beneath him, rolling up into his thrusts, forcing a deep, guttural hiss from his throat. you feel the way he shudders, the way his breath catches, the way his muscles tense under your fingertips as you drag your nails up his arms, over the solid planes of his shoulders, teasing, testing, pushing.

“thought you were supposed to be stronger than this,” you murmur, voice silky-smooth, laced with cruel amusement, a challenge dressed up in honey. your fingers slip into his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch, just enough to feel the way his cock twitches inside you.

baëkhyun tenses, exhales sharply through his nose.

“at least that’s what you were telling me at the bar earlier,” you continue, tone drenched in mock innocence, pretending you don’t feel the way his grip tightens, the way his jaw flexes. “or was that all bullshit to get me in bed?”

his eyes flicker—sharp, burning, dangerous. the silver chains draped across his face catch the light as he tilts his head, lips curling into something dark, something feral.

“oh, you wanna play it like that?”

his voice is low, dripping with promise, amusement laced with something sharper, something darker. he watches you, eyes scanning your face, the way your lips part, the way your lashes flutter, the way your body responds to the power humming beneath his skin.

and then—he moves.

he pulls out completely.

your breath catches, a whimper slipping past your lips before you can stop it, your walls clenching around nothing, aching, empty, desperate.

but he doesn’t give you time to complain.

before you can even suck in another breath, he slams back in.

deep. brutal. unrelenting.

the force of it sends a sharp cry tumbling from your lips, your back arching off the bed, fingers twisting in the sheets, legs trembling where they wrap around his waist.

he grins.

“yeah, that's what i fuckin’ thought,” he murmurs, pressing forward, completely caging you in, silver chain dangling between you, cold against your overheated skin.

his hips snap forward again, tearing another sharp, gasping moan from your throat, and he drinks it in, revels in it, watches the way your face twists, the way your body shudders beneath him.

“so cocky a second ago,” he muses, mocking, smug, devastating. “but look at you now.”

his voice is smooth, controlled, the kind of control that makes your stomach tighten, makes your breath catch, makes your body tremble beneath his.

“what happened, sweetheart?” his lips graze the shell of your ear, voice taunting, teasing, all teeth and arrogance. “thought you wanted me to fuck you like this.”

he rolls his hips deeper, sharper, filling you so perfectly you can barely breathe, barely think, barely do anything but moan his name.

“you talk all that shit,” baëkhyun continues, mocking, devastatingly smug, “but the moment i fuck you like this, you're just a trembling, moaning mess beneath me.”

he sinks in, slow and steady, letting you feel every inch, every ridge, every unrelenting stretch of him. he presses deeper, so deep you can barely breathe, until his hips are flush against yours, buried to the hilt, seated inside you so perfectly it almost hurts. and then—he stops.

a sharp inhale drags through his teeth, his muscles locking up, his body trembling as he forces himself to stay still. it’s too much. he should be moving, should be fucking into you the way he knows you want him to, the way you’re already arching beneath him, fingers digging into his arms, nails scratching at his skin like you’re begging him to give you more. but he can’t. not yet.

his head tilts back, throat exposed, silver face chain shifting with the movement, glinting in the dim light as his jaw clenches. his breath stutters out of him, shaky and uneven, barely holding on. his fingers twitch where they grip your hips, nails pressing deep enough to bruise, deep enough to remind himself that he’s still here, still grounded, still barely keeping himself together.

but fuck— he’s never felt like this before.

his senses are too sharp, too dialed in, too focused on you, on how fucking perfect you feel wrapped around him. he hears everything—the sound of your breath hitching, the erratic pounding of your heartbeat against your ribs, the slick, obscene noises of your bodies pressed together, the soft, shaky moan that catches in your throat when you shift beneath him.

he feels everything.

your walls flex around him, tight and pulsing, gripping him like you don’t want him to leave, like you want to pull him even deeper, keep him buried inside you forever. you’re so warm, so wet, so utterly wrapped around him, molding to him in a way that makes his vision blur, makes his entire body coil with the unbearable need to move, to fuck, to completely ruin you.

but then—you move first.it’s the smallest shift, just a slow, deliberate roll of your hips, just enough to make him feel it.

and baëkhyun nearly fucking breaks.

his jaw slacks, lips parting around a choked-off groan, hips jerking forward before he can stop himself, chasing the way you squeeze around him, the way you shudder beneath him, the way you’re already so fucking desperate. his hands fly to your waist, gripping tight, like he’s holding on for dear life, like he’s trying to keep himself from losing every last thread of control.

“oh, fuck, baby,” he gasps, voice wrecked, raw, disbelieving.

his hands glide over your body, slow and reverent, mapping every curve, every soft expanse of skin, memorizing the way you feel beneath him. his fingertips trace over the tremble in your thighs, the slight arch of your spine, the way your stomach tenses when his hands dip lower, gripping your hips, pressing you deeper into the mattress.

his cock twitches inside you, so hyperaware, so overstimulated, so fucking deep that every little flutter of your walls makes his entire body tense. it’s too much, too good, too perfect. the heat of your body is suffocating, intoxicating, addicting, pulling him in, swallowing him whole, leaving him so close to the edge he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold back much longer.

his head dips forward, silver chains swaying, brushing against your flushed skin, cold metal against heat. his lips part against your shoulder, panting, breathless, and for the first time, he realizes—

he might not last much longer.

“baëk.”

his name leaves your lips on a breathy sigh, and the moment it hits his ears, his eyes snap open—sharp, glowing, flickering with hunger.

he looks wrecked.

his silver chain glints under the dim light, swaying with every shaky inhale, white hair damp and sticking to his forehead, jaw tight as he stares down at you. there’s something dark behind his gaze, something borderline desperate, something completely unhinged.

and you can’t help it—you smirk.

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you whisper, voice thick with amusement, rolling your hips up just enough to test him, just enough to feel the way he shudders, the way his cock twitches inside you, so fucking sensitive.

his breath catches, jaw clenching harder, fingers twitching against your hips like he’s fighting the urge to pin you down, to snap, to completely ruin you.

“so cute when you're pussydrunk,” you murmur, letting the words sink into his skin, letting them wrap around him like a noose.

baëkhyun growls low, deep, and dangerous.

his hand shoots up, wrapping around your throat, forcing your chin up, tilting your face until your gaze is locked with his. his grip is firm, unrelenting, not choking, just controlling, just enough to remind you who’s in charge.

“you think that’s funny?” his breath is hot against your lips, ragged and uneven, shaky from restraint. his fingers press in just enough to steal a gasp from you, just enough to let you know he could take away even more if he wanted.

and then—he snaps.

his hips slam forward, brutal, punishing, unforgiving.

your back arches off the bed, a strangled moan ripped from your throat, high and broken, your body trembling beneath the force of him.

baëkhyun laughs, breathless and mocking, his grip tightening, his lips brushing against your ear, amusement curling at the edges of his voice.

“not so cocky now, are you, sweetheart?”

his words hit like fire, scorching through your veins, sending heat rolling through your body, pooling low in your stomach, twisting tighter, hotter, unbearable. his voice is thick with mockery, dominance, control, but you can hear the way it falters at the edges, the way his breath stutters, ragged and uneven.

you bite your lip, fighting a moan, refusing to give in completely. instead, you force your eyes up to his, your smirk lazy, taunting, but not quite as steady as before.

“who said i wasn’t?” you rasp, voice breaking on the last word as his next thrust steals the breath from your lungs.

baëkhyun growls, low and dangerous.

you feel it vibrate through his chest, through the press of his body against yours, through the way his fingers dig into your waist, bruising, possessive, desperate.

“you’re fuckin’ shaking,” he breathes, amusement curling at the edges of his words. “don’t think i don’t feel it, baby. your body’s givin’ ya away.”

he slows his pace suddenly, rolling his hips deep, deliberate, pressing into you so perfectly that your head tips back, a broken moan spilling from your lips before you can stop it.

your walls clench around him in response, whimpering, shaking, unraveling beneath his touch, beneath his pace, beneath the raw desperation in his movements.

and he feels it all.

he feels the way you pulse around him, the way your body trembles, the way you lose yourself beneath him, and it only makes him rougher, only makes him fuck you harder, deeper, sharper, until all you can do is take it.

your fingers scramble against his shoulders, against his back, nails dragging down his skin, searching for something to hold onto, searching for anything to keep you from completely falling apart.

“b-baëk—” you gasp, breathless, nearly gone.

he grins, breath hitching, but his eyes glow with something darker.

“what’s that, sweetheart?” he taunts, mocking, knowing. “weren’t you just giving me attitude a second ago?”

you bite back another moan, refusing to give him the satisfaction. instead, you roll your hips up again, tightening around him, watching as his lips part, as his breath stumbles—just slightly.

he curses under his breath, a sharp exhale hissing through his teeth.

“oh, you little—”

his grip tightens—on your hips, on your throat, everywhere, because he can’t get close enough, can’t get enough, can’t fucking stand the way you feel so perfect around him and yet it’s still not enough.

his lips drag along your ear, his voice breathless, shaky, desperate.

“i feel everything,” he whispers, voice raw, shaking with it. “you think you can hide it from me? think you can still play this little game when i can feel this perfect fucking pussy clenching around me?”

your body shudders.

“fuck—” you breathe, finally breaking.

and baëkhyun laughs, low, dark, triumphant.

your moans turn helpless, breathless, uncontrollable.

you’re close—so fucking close, and he knows it.

his fingers slide down, find your clit, start circling, pressing, teasing.

you jerk, tense, writhe beneath him, gasping his name, hands clawing at his back, at the sheets, at anything that can ground you.

“cum for me, my pretty girl,” his voice is pure wreckage, pure desperation. “lemme feel it, lemme feel this sweet pussy squeeze me so fuckin’ tight—fuckfuckfuck, just like that.”

his hips snap forward—deep, grinding, ruthless.

and then—you break.

the pleasure hits like a shockwave, rolling through you, drowning you in heat and static and white-hot euphoria, leaving you gasping, shaking, body clenching around him in waves.

and baëkhyun feels every single bit of it.

it ruins him.

“shit—‘m gonna cum, baby. fuck—gonna fill ya up, make a fuckin’ mess of you. ya want that? yeah? want me so deep you’ll still feel me next week?”

his thrusts grow erratic, rhythm crumbling as the pleasure coils tighter, hotter, winding through every nerve in his body like a live wire. he's barely holding on, teetering on the edge, lost in the unbearable heat of you, the way your gummy walls flutter and grip him, milking him, pulling him deeper into the abyss.

he's gone. completely, utterly gone.

his fingers tighten on your hips, bruising, anchoring himself as his body locks up, shuddering. the tension snaps like a live circuit, raw electricity bursting in his veins as his climax rips through him—violent, devastating, white-hot and all-consuming.

and then—

the world goes dark.

a deep, shuddering groan wrenches from his throat, his entire body seizing, electricity sparking through his nerves, his power surging beyond control. the lightbulbs overhead flicker, pulsing once—twice—before exploding in a cascade of shattered glass. outside, the entire city plunges into sudden, absolute blackness. streetlights sputter and die. neon signs fizzle out. buildings blink into nothing, their towering silhouettes vanishing into the void.

but baëkhyun doesn’t notice. doesn’t care.

he’s buried so deep inside you, cumming so hard, spilling into you in thick, pulsing waves, filling you until there’s nothing left of him, until he’s shaking, panting, forehead pressing into your shoulder, chest rising and falling in ragged gasps.

his body trembles against yours, completely wrung out, completely spent, every last drop of his energy drained, sucked from him the moment he lost himself in you.

his breath is uneven, sharp and shallow, his fingers twitching against your waist as he tries—fails—to regain control, to piece himself back together.

but he can’t.

you’ve ruined him.

you feel the weight of him, the heavy press of his body, the way his heart hammers against yours, erratic and frantic. he’s never felt like this before. never been unraveled like this. never lost himself so completely that he took the entire fucking city down with him.

then—he exhales a breathless, disbelieving laugh.

“holy fuck.” his voice is hoarse, wrecked beyond belief, thick with something almost delirious, something that borders on awe. “did i just—”

you swallow, dazed, body still trembling beneath him, still reeling from the way he just ruined you.

“you… turned off the whole fucking city,” you breathe.

baëkhyun blinks.

then, slowly, a smirk curls at his lips.

“shit,” he mutters, breath still uneven. “guess i really was seeing the light.”

you groan, smacking his arm weakly, too exhausted to do anything else, and he chuckles, low and satisfied, lips pressing against your temple in something almost tender.

“’m serious,” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion, but there’s something smug underneath it, something cocky, something dangerous. “might’ve just fucked the whole grid offline.”

you huff, shaking your head, but you can’t stop the way your lips twitch, amusement curling at the edges of your spent smile.

“so what now?” you mumble, voice still hoarse, fingers trailing mindlessly over his damp back.

baëkhyun hums, shifting slightly, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you against him, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“dunno,” he sighs, pressing a lazy kiss to your collarbone. “maybe i should do it again. see if i can take out the whole damn country next time.”

you laugh, smacking his shoulder, and he grins, shifting just enough to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

outside, the city remains dark, silent, caught in the aftermath of his power slipping, of his control completely unraveling.

outside, the city remains shrouded in darkness, silent, caught in the aftermath of his power slipping—his control unraveling at the seams.

but inside—

inside, baëkhyun is still glowing.

it lingers on his skin, a faint golden shimmer caught in the sweat-slick dip of his collarbones, in the silver glint of his chain, in the sharp, flickering brightness behind his half-lidded eyes. remnants of power, of pleasure, of something raw and all-consuming.

you watch him, gaze tracing the aftershocks still rippling through his body—the way his chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, the way his muscles still twitch beneath flushed skin, the way he looks so utterly wrecked, so completely gone—yet somehow still devastatingly beautiful.

his fingers ghost over your stomach, over your ribs, over the marks he left behind—absentminded, reverent, like he’s memorizing the proof of his presence on your skin.

then, with a slow, breathless chuckle, he exhales, “didn’t think i’d ever lose it like that over a girl.” his lips brush against your temple, voice thick, almost disbelieving. “a human one at that.”

you blink up at him, still hazy, still catching your breath. “oh? so what—you usually short-circuit cities over celestial beings?”

baëkhyun grins, lazy and wrecked, fingers tracing idle patterns against your hip. “never short-circuited anything over anyone.” he tilts his head, voice dropping lower, rougher. “guess you’re different.”

your breath stutters, but you mask it with a slow, smug smirk. “must be pretty humbling.”

he huffs a laugh, shaking his head, white hair damp against his forehead. “more like terrifying.” his fingers tighten against your waist, like he’s grounding himself. “what the hell are you doing to me?”

you hum, dragging your nails up his back, slow and teasing. “dunno.” your lips graze his jaw. “but i think you like it.”

his breath shudders, his grip flexing, his body still wound tight despite everything. his gaze flickers—something dark, something unspoken, something that burns like an eclipse.

“yeah,” he mutters, pressing a lingering kiss against your throat, voice dripping with something dangerously close to devotion.

“i really fucking do.”

outside, the city will wake up again. the lights will return, people will move on, life will resume like nothing happened.

but in this room, in this bed, wrapped in baëkhyun’s arms—

the world still belongs to him.

⟢ xiūmin

“tell me what's your kink. gimme the dick!”

it starts with a single ice cube gliding along your skin.

“cold?’ xiūmin murmurs, watching you flinch as the frozen edge drags down the curve of your stomach. his fingers, warm in contrast, follow right behind, soothing the goosebumps rising in its wake.

“y-yeah,” you admit, breath hitching, but you don’t pull away. the contrast between heat and ice sends a shiver through you, but underneath the initial shock, there’s something else—something thrilling.

xiūmin smirks. “good.”

he presses the melting ice against your collarbone, tracing the delicate line, the cold bite making you gasp. your hands twitch at your sides, not knowing whether to push him away or pull him closer. he notices, of course. his gaze darkens, flicking up to meet yours.

“relax. just feel.”

you nod, swallowing hard.

then he gets bolder.

the ice trails lower, circling a peaked nipple, and the sharp chill makes your back arch instantly. “oh—” your moan cuts off as his lips replace the ice, tongue lapping at the sensitive skin warmed by his mouth. the contrast is intoxicating, a push and pull between fire and frost, and it makes your head spin.

“so sensitive,” he muses, rolling the ice between his fingers before pressing it to the inside of your thigh, drawing slow, teasing patterns. you can barely handle it, hips shifting desperately as the cold sears pleasure straight to your core.

“xiū, please,” you whimper, barely recognizing your own voice. you weren’t expecting to react this intensely, but your body is on fire, every nerve ending hyperaware. the ice is melting fast now, water trickling down your skin, and his lips chase the droplets, tongue laving up the trails left behind.

he smirks as he shifts lower, spreading your thighs apart. the remaining ice cube in his fingers drags over the most sensitive part of you, the freezing contrast against your heat making you cry out. your body jolts at the intensity, legs trembling as he watches you come undone under his touch.

“fuck, you’re dripping for me already,” he groans, pushing the ice deeper between your folds, rolling it over your clit, and you swear your vision goes white. your fingers clutch the sheets, desperate and overwhelmed, a wreck beneath him.

“please—oh my god—” you choke out, hips twitching involuntarily as he circles the ice around your entrance, teasing. your body is thrumming, nerves sizzling from the unbearable pleasure.

when the ice finally melts, he replaces it with his mouth, lips wrapping around your swollen, oversensitive bud as he moans against you, the vibrations making you arch off the bed. his tongue is hot, relentless, flicking and sucking until you’re seeing stars, legs trembling on either side of his head.

“more,” you beg, voice wrecked, breathless.

his fingers slip inside, stretching you open as his mouth works you over, lapping at you like he’s starving. your release crashes over you so hard your entire body locks up, toes curling as you cry out his name, drowning in pleasure.

he doesn’t stop.

he keeps going, drawing every last wave out of you, overstimulating you until you’re shuddering, begging him to slow down. finally, he pulls away, his lips and chin glistening, eyes dark and hungry as he looks up at you.

he shifts over you, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress, and his cock presses against your entrance, teasing, testing. he kisses you, slow and deep, before whispering, “ready?”

nervous, but desperate, you nod. “yes.”

he pushes in, slow and careful, letting you adjust to the stretch. the fullness steals your breath, but the burn melts into pleasure quickly, your body molding to him like you were made for this.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, voice strained as he fights to go slow, to let you savor the sensation.

but soon, your fingers claw at his back, your hips rising to meet his. “move. please.”

he doesn't need to be told twice.

he starts slow, deep, but the moment he hears you moan—really moan—he loses himself. his pace quickens, his thrusts turning desperate, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

“so tight, so perfect,” he grits out, watching your face contort with pleasure. “you love this, don’t you?”

“yes—yes, oh my god—”

he slips a hand between your bodies, circling your swollen clit, determined to push you over the edge again, and again, and again. the pleasure is fucking overwhelming, everything too much and not enough at the same time, and when you finally cum, it’s with a cry that echoes through the room.

xiūmin follows moments later, burying himself deep inside you with a guttural groan, his body shuddering as he spills into you.

for a moment, all that fills the room is the sound of heavy breathing, the lingering tremors of pleasure humming through both of you. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, a contrast to the intensity of what just happened.

“told ya you'd like it,” he murmurs against your skin, smug and satisfied.

with what little strength you have left, you manage a breathless laugh. “i loved it.”

his smirk returns, darker this time. “good. because next time, i’m making you beg for it.”

⟢ läy  

“eat it like i need an apron on! eat it ‘til i need to change my thong!”

läy starts slow. agonizingly slow.

his lips are soft as they graze over the inside of your thighs, planting open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin, tongue darting out to taste the warmth of your body. his breath is hot, heavy, teasing. he knows what you want, knows how badly you need him between your legs, but he takes his time.

“you’re already so wet,” he murmurs, nosing against your clothed core, his voice rough with something dark, something hungry. “i haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

his fingers ghost over your hips, gripping just tight enough to make you squirm, just firm enough to let you know you aren’t going anywhere. then, finally, he leans in and drags his tongue up the center of your lace-covered slit, slow and deliberate.

a whimper leaves your lips. your hips lift off the bed, seeking more friction, but läy’s hands are there to press you back down.

“be patient,” he chides, but his voice is thick with need.

he presses his mouth against you fully this time, lips sealing over the damp fabric, tongue working slow circles over your clit through the lace. the friction of it—the way the fabric catches just slightly, the heat of his mouth dampening it further—makes you arch against him, your fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer.

“one,” you breathe, already trembling.

his laugh is dark, warm, reverberating against your core. “one already?” he teases, licking at you again, this time with more pressure, more intent.

your answer is a broken moan.

he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit again, the lace sticking wetly to your folds, your arousal soaking through as he laps at you like he’s savoring every drop. his fingers dig into your thighs as he holds you still, his mouth working you over until your vision blurs, pleasure cresting through your body.

“two,” you choke out, and läy hums approvingly, his tongue flicking over your clit just right, sending another jolt of pleasure straight through you.

your legs shake as he keeps going, undeterred by your gasping breaths, your restless hips. his hands tighten around your thighs, pushing them wider as he angles himself deeper. then, with slow, deliberate precision, he tilts his head and uses his tongue to push the lace aside, baring you to him completely.

“fuck,” he breathes.

his eyes flick up to yours, and the heat in his gaze makes your stomach flip, makes your breath catch in your throat.

“so pretty,” he murmurs before dipping his head back down.

this time, there's nothing between you. no fabric, no barrier—just his mouth, hot and wet, sealing over your cunt like he wants to drown in you.

his tongue slides deep, licking into you before dragging up to flick over your clit again. his nose presses against you, his lips closing around your swollen bud, sucking gently, then harder, and your hands clutch at the sheets, at his hair, at anything you can grab onto as he devours you.

“three,” you gasp, your body already teetering on the edge again.

he doesn’t slow. doesn’t stop. his fingers slide through your slick folds before pressing into you, curling against that sweet spot inside you, the one that makes you cry out his name. he works you open with practiced ease, fucking you with his fingers as his tongue works over your clit, coaxing you into another mind-numbing release.

“four,” you sob, thighs shaking around his head, but he only groans in response, the sound vibrating against your clit, making you tremble even harder.

he doesn’t give you time to recover. doesn’t let up. his fingers press deeper, his tongue moving faster, and before you know it, your body is seizing up again, another orgasm crashing through you so hard that you can’t even form words, can’t even count.

“five,” you whisper, barely audible.

and then, finally, he pulls back, his lips and chin glistening with your slick, his eyes dark with something insatiable.

you’re still catching your breath when he shifts onto his knees, hands moving to his belt, unbuckling it with slow, deliberate movements. your heart stutters as he unbuttons his pants, dragging the zipper down, freeing himself from the confines of his clothes.

his cock is hard, flushed, dripping, and he wraps a hand around the base, stroking himself once, twice, as he looks down at you with a smirk that sends a fresh wave of arousal pooling between your thighs.

“okay,” he says, positioning himself between your legs, rubbing the thick head of his cock over your oversensitive clit. 

and then he sinks into you, slow and deep, and you swear you see stars.

“fuck,” läy groans, forehead pressing against yours, his hands gripping your thighs as he bottoms out. “angel… you’re—” his words cut off into a sharp exhale, his jaw clenching as he struggles to hold himself together.

you’re gripping him so tight, wrapped around him so perfectly, your walls pulsing, clinging onto him like you never want to let go. and fuck, he’s barely keeping it together.

“läy”, you whimper, rolling your hips up, desperate to feel more, to push him deeper.

his hands tighten on you instinctively, his fingers digging into your flesh like he's trying to ground himself, like he's trying not to lose himself completely in the heat of you.

“you're so fucking tight,” he mutters, his voice rough, wrecked. “i can’t—fuck, i can’t—”

but you don’t let him finish.

your hands reach up, fingers curling around the back of his neck, tugging him closer until your lips brush against his, your breath mingling with his.

“don’t hold back,” you whisper, eyes locking onto his, and something in him snaps.

his control slips. his hips jerk forward, burying himself as deep as he can go, and a choked moan spills from his lips at the way you squeeze around him.

“baby,” he groans, and you swear you can feel his cock twitch inside you, the way his body trembles with the effort of keeping himself from coming too soon.

but you want him to.

you want to push him past the edge, to make him lose himself in you the way he just made you fall apart over and over again.

so you move.

you plant your feet against the bed and lift your hips, fucking yourself up onto him, dragging him deeper, meeting every one of his thrusts with desperate, rolling movements that make his breath hitch and his arms shake.

“fuck—fuck, angel—” he gasps, and his hands fly to your waist, trying to slow you down, trying to hold on, but you don’t let him.

you pull him closer, your grip on his neck tightening, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, “cum for me, baby. give it to me.”

his groan is guttural, a deep, broken sound as his hips snap forward, movements turning erratic, frantic, desperate.

“fuck—i'm—” he chokes out, his head dropping to your shoulder as he buries himself as deep as he can go, hips pressing flush against yours as he spills into you, white-hot pleasure crashing over him in waves.

he moans your name, his hands gripping you like a lifeline as he grinds into you, making sure every last drop is buried deep inside.

your fingers tangle into his damp hair, your lips pressing soft, slow kisses against his temple as his breathing evens out, as he slowly comes down from the high of it all.

“you okay?” you murmur, still holding him close.

he lifts his head, and his gaze is soft, warm, so full of something tender that it makes your chest ache.

“yeah,” he breathes, a lazy smile curling at the edges of his lips. “i just… think i fell completely fucking in love with you.”

your heart stutters.

“yeah?” you tease, your fingers tracing circles against the nape of his neck. “that good, huh?”

his laugh is quiet, sweet, and he presses a lingering kiss to your lips before murmuring against them, “it’s always that good with you.”

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 . 

[aventurineswife]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie

Tags: Sylus x Reader, Noah (OC) x Reader, Enemies to Lovers, Dark Romance, Toxic Attraction, Power Struggles, Psychological Manipulation, Slow Burn, Angst & Tension, Violence & Blood, Forbidden Love, Obsession & Possession, Morally Grey Characters, Push & Pull Relationship.

Warnings: Violence & Gore (Blood, gunplay, injury descriptions), Psychological Manipulation & Gaslighting, Toxic & Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics, Death & Immortality Themes, Emotional & Psychological Turmoil, Obsession & Possessiveness, Mafia/Crime Themes (Murder, power struggles, organized crime) (?), Mature Themes (Dark romance, intense emotional/physical tension).

A/N: this is just an excuse to write Sylus and my oc, Noah, because this song suits them so well 😔💔 (and because I'm not okay after watching the official mv).

The first time you hear his voice, it's a whisper in the dark��a ghost of something long buried, something that should have stayed dead. But he’s real, standing before you with a smirk playing at his lips, red eyes gleaming like molten fire.

“Miss me?”

You hate him.

And yet, when the bullet stops mid-air, when the world slows to the pull of his power, it’s his voice that anchors you. Your breath catches as you meet his gaze, a heartbeat too long, too dangerous. His right eye glows, and in that split second, you swear you hear it again—an echo not of his voice, but of something deeper, something threading through your very being.

Your fingers twitch, the weight of the gun he gave you heavier than it should be. The metal is cold against your palm, but his touch as he curls his hand over yours is searing. “Go on,” Sylus taunts, pressing the barrel over his own heart. His smile never wavers. “Pull the trigger. End your nightmare.”

You want to. You want to erase him, to erase the way he makes you feel—this unbearable pull, this infuriating magnetism that chains you to him. But your hands tremble, and his smirk deepens as if he already knew you wouldn’t do it.

The shot rings out.

His body jerks. A moment of stillness. Then he laughs, low and dark, as red blossoms across his chest. And right before your eyes, the wound vanishes, leaving nothing but the memory of your hesitation.

“Pathetic,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. “You say you hate me, but your hands tell me otherwise.”

Your breath is ragged, your pulse unsteady. “I do hate you.”

“Liar.”

The word coils around you like a snake, suffocating, inescapable. You should run. You should kill him. But instead, you stand there, frozen in the firestorm of his gaze.

You love him. You hate him.

It’s all the same, isn’t it?

The first time you saw him, he was a shadow at the edge of your world. A force both magnetic and terrifying. Noah—Mafia King, Arbiter of Justice, Immortal enigma.

You knew he was dangerous, yet your heart never heeded the warnings.

I love you, I hate you, I love you, I hate you…

The words echo in your mind like a curse. A rhythm you cannot escape. The mantra of your existence with him.

He watches you from across the room, golden light flickering against his sharp features. One brown eye locked onto you, the other forever hidden behind that damned eyepatch, concealing a truth you were never sure you wanted to see.

“I should stay away from you,” you whisper, voice barely above a breath. “You ruin everything you touch.”

A slow smirk curves his lips. “And yet, here you are.”

Your hands tremble at your sides. Your heart pounds a desperate war drum against your ribs. You should leave. Run. Forget the way his voice wraps around you like silk and steel. Forget the taste of his name on your tongue.

But you don’t.

You never do.

My best enemy is you.

He steps forward, slow, deliberate. The air between you is electric, alive with an unspoken war neither of you can win. His gloved fingers brush against your wrist, the touch barely there, yet it sends lightning through your veins.

“I hurt you,” he murmurs. It’s not an apology. It never is. “And yet, you keep coming back.”

Your breath catches, something sharp lodging itself in your throat. “Because you always find me first.”

A chuckle, dark and amused. “You like being caught.”

You swallow hard, willing your pulse to steady. “I hate you.”

He tilts his head, studying you like a predator toying with prey. “Then why do you look at me like that?”

Your nails bite into your palms. The answer is too cruel, too honest to speak aloud. Because despite the blood on his hands, despite the shadows curling around his soul—you love him.

And that is the cruelest curse of all.

His lips ghost over your ear, his voice a whisper of prophecy. “You’ll never leave me.”

You shudder. He’s right.

He’s always right.

Flee from me, the worst is you and I.

But you don’t move.

And neither does he.

[ashthewaterghoul]

https://www.tumblr.com/yarrowthrope/777167236590927872?source=share

I wanna hear ur thoughts about shipping them cuz of phanter and the separation

Ooooo I haven’t really thought about it too much just yet ngl!

Whoever it was though who suggested Perpetua luring Phantom to his own embrace has me thinking though…

CW - Manipulation, gaslighting and all that type of stuff.

Phantom really struggles with the separation, obviously. Copia helped ward off the nightmares of everything they went through in the Pits (go read my one shot “You Guide Me In To Safety And Silence” to get the general gist of it) and they are practically desperate for comfort and some sanctuary from their past.

Maybe it was during the filming for the Satanized mv that Perpetua realised the little Quint isn’t quite acting like all the pictures and videos he’s seen online and the Clergy tells him they were too clingy with Copia and are suffering for their unprofessionalism.

Perpetua knows how strong Quints are. Their Element is the very fabric of the universe itself after all and having that kind of power under his beck and call… Well he truly would be perpetual, wouldn’t he?

He makes his era filled with purples and the creepy aesthetic he’s learnt Phantom loves. He makes sure the Ghoul outfits are tailored to their sensory needs and doesn’t care what the rest have to say. He makes the Ministry a trans safe-haven specifically for what they want.

At rehearsals he asks them to stay behind. I find it easier to learn these old songs with rhythm guitar only, He’d say and then use the time to get a little closer and offer some company when Phantom needs.

Phantom doesn’t to start with. It almost feels like a betrayal to Copia, their Papa. But the little moments alone start adding up and Phantom feels that lovely sense of protection again, the nightmares not quite going away but less intense or vivid for sure.

And when Perpetua presses a chaste kiss to their lips one day and reaffirms his offer for company, Phantom becomes a little more open to it…

[lumineclervie]

Braiding Bonds

Open rp! (Mv & Ocs welcomed)

Lumine sat behind you, brushing out any knots in your hair as she hummed a Mondstadt tune. Every so often, she'd use her hydro to dampen your hair to make it easier to brush. "Ok... I think... we should be good to move on to the next part. Just let me know if it's too tight, okay?"

She'd then begin to braid your hair, every so often stopping to check if the braid was too tight or not.. "I appreciate you trusting me enough to braid your hair.. this honestly feels very therapeutic for me. It reminds me of when I used to braid my brothers hair. " She got into a nice rhythm with the braids

[nearly-wonderland]

Mekakushi Code / Blindfold Code メカクシコード | Jin English Lyrics

「 A song about hiding your eyes. 」

A world growing cold of hope or light, Oh, such a thing couldn't rise high enough to fly. An error imports into my veins Leaving nothing behind

A code sounding from my iPod gives Out the signal that our mission will begin. My earbuds drown out the world I see Just flip my hood up and run, and they won’t notice a thing-

No problem!

“Blindfold is ready to go.” They’ll never know that we were here, alright. The red burning daze that bursts from the light Drowns the city in dreamlike fantasy

If today had never come to be, With the beating repeating through my heart, it seems, I’d be fine to leave it all behind, Towards the sun, moving on, to tomorrow to find

“Hey, there’s really nothing to it, right?” With the trembling rhythm running down the line Not that bad to live a life like that, Don’t get tired of moving ahead.

I can’t spare a drop of pride and drink It all down as the railroad marks our meeting My heartbeat drowns out the rhythm, then, Let it slip and my apprehension turns to grin

My steps flow into a beat and I Move ahead, take the lead, after all, I find That if they never see a thing Then I'll move on to the tempo and towards our victory

It’s alright!

“Go on ahead with the plan.” Got twenty minutes, too far in to retract Well, lace up, and calling out to the back, “There’s the signal, don’t give up the attack!”

If my body burns out from the heat, Let a high-pass filter through and let it breathe Heading west and to the sky again To that city that breaks through the daze overhead

“Hey, you don’t think that’s more than enough?” With the laugh of our heel as he runs on ahead* Yeah, I guess you’d only get it when You can’t hide from the eyes prying in.

The team’s free to join, and don’t forget Even the middle of mission’s easy access No skills or special qualities And the uniform’s free.

You’re naive but that won’t matter if You’ve got the code to get in and my permission And I’d even say you’re just like me Some 2D shut-in otaku, hikikomori NEET**

That’s alright!

“Better than ever, you’ll find!” I’m all or nothing, the alarm’s on time*** If red’s ringing out and drowns your gaze Pull your hood back and show your real face.

If today had never come to be, With the beating repeating through my heart, it seems, I’d be fine to leave it all behind, Towards the sun, moving on, to tomorrow to find

“Hey, it wasn’t so bad in the end!” Rub the red from our eyes, and finally look ahead Won’t forget, so really was worth it Let’s step out of the cold pouring in

Since summer’s just only begin.****

----

*Though in the most popular fanmade MV, the “heel” is Momo, it’s generally accepted that the mentioned character is actually Kano, thus the usage of “he” instead. **NEET: "Not in Education, Employment, or Training". While a hikikomori is a shut-in in its own right, I didn’t want to change the term due to it implying a specific level of severity that’s hard to get across in English. The song is incredibly full of tech and machinery references, so it didn’t feel out of place to use non-English terminology! ***The original Japanese ピーキー refers to the loan-word “peaky”, which straying from its automotive roots, is used to describe someone who either performs very well or poorly, with little in-between. ****YES this is improper English but at some point you just have to pick your battles, and mine is not with the one-letter difference between begin/begun

[quodekash]

it took me way too long but ive finally finished rewatching bad buddy so now its time to watch the ost mv and then finally the os2 episodes. i might smash them both out in one night, who knows 

ALSO HAPPY PRIDE MONTH GUYS 

holy hell holy hell holy hell 

therye back 

theyre freaking back 

patpran are back 

and waikorn are back 

and everyone else is back 

THEYRE BACK 

this show changed the world and theyre back for a few short episodes 

my heart is beating so freaking fast omg 

YEEEE THEY ARE FRIENDS THEY ARENT PROPERLY ENEMIES ANYMORE JGRBDFHGBFH 

im so happy this makes me so happy nfbghdfbgn 

holy hell this is amazing 

a sweeping and mopping project 

WAIKORN TALKING TO EACH OTHER IN A FRIENDLY MANNER 

i love him so much 

ERJDKGBVNERKJDBF THEYRE SO PRECIOUS TO ME 

“its sad though. they shouldnt have broken up.” “did they? I still catch them talking sometimes. maybe theyre hooking up in secret” AH SHOOT HE’S ONTO THEM 

side note: its so weird cos im seeing msp pat rn, and im not used to seeing him being observant 

another side note: its so weird seeing mo and louis talking to each other, a) because of the architecture engineering thing, and b) my brain cant stop thinking about pat and yak and i feel like louis should be yelling at mo for his lack of rhythm or something 

anyway 

LMAO NO THEYRE NOT 

theyre either faking it, or by ‘face-off’ he means ‘

im really hoping for the latter because i think that would be funny, but i know its just that theyre faking it 

b r o 

they gonna smooch 

THE DIFFERENCE IN THE INTERACTION BEHIND THE CURTAIN COMPARED TO THE SHADOWS IN FRONT OF THE CURTAIN- HOLY HELL THIS IS HILARIOUS 

i love them 

GKERBJDFHKMRDF 

HOW DO YOU LAUGH QUIETLY 

DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN?? ITS SO WEIRD SEEING HIM, OF ALL PEOPLE, BEING OBSERVANT 

this line alone brings me more joy and happiness than i can possibly express 

i knew the curtain was gonna fall 

THE PUNCH- GRIDHFBKGC ITS SO FUNNY 

ah yes. anger. he is very angry. clearly. much anger. 

 theyre all telling pran to calm down meanwhile he’s just tapping his foot semi-aggressively 

THIS IS LITERALLY ONE OF MY FAVOURITE LINES LIKE EVER 

AND THEYVE REPEATED IT 

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH 

but we love her so much <333

the little cheek kiss as hes standing up- pls theyre so domestic my heart cant take it 

GIRLFRIENDS 

I LOVE THEM 

AAAAAAAA 

THEY’D BETTER GIVE US 23.5 SOON BECAUSE HOLY HELL 

i would quite literally die for them 

“nong pat” and “phi pran” so... pran is older? somehow that makes so much sense and no sense at all and i cant explain it. i think its just hard for me to imagine them as not the exact same age 

oooh thats smart, finding someone accepted by both faculties 

im tryna figure out who it might be 

id love it if it could be chai cos hes wonderful and i wanna see him again, but i doubt that it will be 

my only other thought is ink 

OMG HELL YES I LOVE THIS GUY 

omg they need a sponsor 

pls let it be oishi tea 

THE OISHI AD ANNOUNCEMENT THINGY AT THE START OF 2/4, THIS IS PROMISING 

ELEVATOR SCENE 

all the parallels may kill me. i love parallels so much 

he has adhd and i refuse all other opinions. its just a fact. i dont even think anyone will disagree with me. pat is adhd, pran is autism, shut up its canon 

KORN NO WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT 

HOLY HELL 

the secondhand embarrassment i got from that was so strong, holy bajoolies 

i love him 

OMG THEYRE DOING THAT SCENE BUT IN REVERSE 

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH 

ITS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE SCENES HBFDXGH 

omg the snow white thing 

THE FREAKING PARALLELS??? 

i hate them and all these parallels its so rude 

omg 

theyre doing an atots play arent they 

this is brilliant 

i didnt expect them to make the crossover like this 

gnrjehfdbg 

me in maths 

omg his calm ‘theres no hope’ voice- its such a mood i do that too 

“why dont you call him? :D” “there’s no signal there ;-;” “what about email :)” “i dont have his email ;;-;;” 

and the way his face barely moves at all? i love this so much 

THE FISTBUMP 

THEIR BRAND 

GRNDJFGB 

omg the piano version of our song in the background?? i love ittttt 

THE NAO NONG DOLL EYE MASK??? FIRST OF ALL: ADORABLE, SECOND: i smell merch 

i love him so much 

NOOOO THEY CHANGED THEIR CONTACTS TO THEIR ACTUAL NAMES???? WHY NOT KEEP IT AS JUST A FRIEND, IT’S ICONIC 

this entire image is complete perfection 

i love them 

HIS CONTACT FOR PRAN IS DIMPLES???? pran you gotta up your game, just having it as ‘pat’??? pathetic 

wai are you here 

(read as: why are you here) 

(its funny) 

(laugh) 

(hah hah) 

(thank you for laughing) 

im just gonna slide past the fact that pat just kissed wai cos i dont really wanna think about that 

this is really funny 

pran leaving pat behind cos he got drunk and didnt come home and insulted him? deserved. 

YOD

I LOVE HIM 

ERUIGBVUIREBGDS 

this is like the exact same scene as when tian came, i love it so much, im so happy rn omg i love this 

HIS HAT HRBGGHBD 

pran’s old man walking stick- i love him 

HIM 

HELLO 

I LOVE YOU 

GREJKDFHGOI5ERJNGPOIBJRIODFJHNBRNF 

why the hell did phupha faint this time 

why him 

why is pran being a medical professional 

my brain is confused rn guys 

ERBGIJVEBRDKFGJ HELLO 

IM WAVING SO AGGRESSIVELY AT MY LAPTOP SCREEN RN 

I LOVE HIM 

holy hell that was brilliant 

im gonna cry im so excited for the next episode 

hang on imma post this and then watch that 

[aoharushiyo]

the wall / leo/need [eng translation]

TITLE: the WALL ARTIST: Leo/need SERIES: Project Sekai: COLORFUL STAGE! COMPOSITION: buzzG LYRICS: buzzG OFFICIAL MV: (L/N game size ver) (L/N full ver)

ENG:

I wanted to know what lies at the heart of the lightning-like feeling I felt as I held the wavering twilight sky close, not wanting to let it go

In truth, I don't need to be understood, but I still want to know why I believed not being able to touch anyone's heart was a strength

This battered melody's rhythm is woven with blue-coloured scars, and because these scars will never disappear, to sing is to hurt, to be afraid, but yet I sing this ordinary song that connected us, this song, which can overcome every wall

"It's alright for your hands and feet to tremble," you told me, but could my timid, transparent self even leave anything behind?

Everything I wanted to convey should have already dried up, but why is it that I still want to paint the orange that bridges day and night?

"It's alright to smile," you told me, who had become afraid of being alone, as my heartbeat pounded at the beautiful sight before me Surely, the gods created us to be weak so that we wouldn't have to walk our paths alone

The happiness that brings tears to my eyes and these countless, towering walls— both of them, all of them, are all for the sake of this voice

As I recounted the days I loathed, days where I felt as if I was drowning in a deep sea of mist, you listened, all the while resiliently holding in your tears

This battered melody woven with blue-coloured scars overflows from me, and because these scars cannot be separated from its rhythm, to sing will still be painfully lonely, but yet with you by my side, I want to sing this song; I want to sing a song of the world, a disfigured, yet warm, song which brings down every wall

JP:

稲妻のような感情　その奥を知りたくて 離さないようにぎゅっと抱いた　黄昏に揺れる空

本当はわかってほしくて　わかられたくなんかなくて 誰の心にだって触れないことが強さだと思っていた

ぼろぼろのメロディ　律動　青い傷跡 それが混ざりあって消えないから 歌うのは痛いよ　怖いよ　それでも君と紡ぐありふれた唄 すべての壁を越える唄

震える手足は健在　君はそれでいいと言うね 透明で臆病な僕に何が残せるのかな

伝えたいことなんてもう　枯らしたはずなのにどうして 昼と夜のあいだ　その橙を描きたくなるの

美しい光景　脈動　笑ってもいいよ 独りが怖くなった僕を 神様はきっと　僕らが独りぼっちで寂しく歩まないように か弱く産み落としたんでしょ

噎せ返るような歓びも　聳え立つ無数の壁も 全部　全部　この声のためにある

溺れるほどに深い霧の海で自分を呪いたくなる日は 君の目がずっと　強くて　泣けちゃうくらいに

溢れたぼろぼろのメロディ　律動　青い傷跡 それが混ざりあって　これからも 歌うのは痛くて寂しい　でも 君とならそれを、世界を、歌ってみたい すべての壁を溶かす　歪であったかい唄

[27-roses]

This may be ill-received, or it could go unnoticed by everyone, but I really wanted to give this boy some recognition.

He debuted.

He debuted!!!

He may take that back, but I will always remember today as the day that the mighty Beomhan finally made his debut.

I am not one of the stans that will never find any faults or shortcomings in their favorite idols and their talents. No, I have always made a point to be as real and open as possible. And because of that, I can say with confidence that Beomhan's debut single, 'Me Myself & I' is not what I expected, and that's okay. The rhythm pacing is kind of odd and consistent, giving a sound that is repetitive and not as hooking as it could be. The mixing feels raw and not in the way that you want. The camera work is a bit amateur, and the vocals aren't the best but he sings quite steadily and with feeling. There are shortcomings but there is something that billion-dollar budgets can't replicate, and that is the genuine smile on his face, the expressions in his dance, the time given to the backup dancers-his willingness to share his stage and important time, and the confidence that he has in his voice and body. He is a good dancer with quick moves and energy-coming from a trained dancer, myself. He has the visuals-GOSH HE HAS VISUALS and heaven knows, the personality to let him stand out like a light in a cave of the industry. I mean, this dude flips bacon with bread, how can you get any better than that-

Beomhan is insanely talented. And selfless.

He is such an aware person, never letting any of the hate or criticism go unnoticed. He is human. He won't have the best quality of music videos, he won't have the vocals of world-renowned idols, yet. He worked so hard to be here, now, and the mess of a company that he supported with everything really let him down in ways we couldn't imagine. He has come so far in so many ways, and he has struggled so much. He did well. He is doing well on this.

I'm saying that it really isn't an incredible debut, but it has so much heart and power behind it that it makes me prouder and more impressed than any other I've witnessed in all my stanning years. I loved watching the mv: I watched it at least 5 times, and streamed on spotify more. Not because I want to get him the streams, but because I enjoyed the song. I enjoyed the dancing. I enjoy watching him. He's an entertainer, and that's why I follow him.

Because of how he starts now, it leaves all the more for him to grow in talent and himself. Please, don't hate on his accomplishments but don't be delusional for the sake of false enthusiasm. There is so much talent that there is no reason for either option.

Beomhan, you have made me laugh and smile so much. You have helped me through some horrible times. You have made me so proud. You deserve so much. I hope you can be proud of yourself. Beomhan, fighting!!

[lostanddancing]

Stray Kids 5-Star Review

This album did not disappoint, but I think that phrasing has become pretty cliché when talking about Stray Kids. I've loved almost everything they've put out, so I was a little nervous that this would be the one that did let me down.

I should know better. These guys are still amazing, and I have thoroughly enjoyed every song here. The S-Class MV is spectacular, and I can't stop watching the choreography, it's mesmerizing.

That being said, here's my reviews of the individual songs:

Hall of Fame

Love this album starting out with Seungmin's voice. This man deserves more of this. I also like the call back to Changbin's Doodle. Originally not one of my favorites, but it's growing on me the more I listen to it. All in all a fun track, but not their deepest and that’s ok, it doesn't have to be to hit hard.

S-Class

These. Boys. This song is a killer and they know it. Love the contrast of Seungmin and Felix's voices. Changbin never disappoints. I.N. on the bridge is angelic.  This sticks in my head so bad, all day. They described the sound they were going for as "funnily annoying" and they hit it and I can't be mad. Dang.

Item

This song just shows off the musical humor that absolutely endeared me to Stray Kids from the beginning. I adore how they play with the game sounds and references. The whole thing is ridiculously catchy. People keep comparing it to Domino, but to me its more like Cheese. Just a great, funny, confident clap back at their haters and I love it.

Super Bowl

God's Menu, but sexy. I'm glad they went with God's Menu first, it's definitely the better song, but this is a fun sequel. Like, how many food/restaurant related lines can we stuff into a song and still make it sound sultry? Also, I LOOOOVE what they've done with the rhythm in this one. It's unique and delightful.

Topline

Aside from the not quiiiite there vulgarity, I love this one. The beat is incredible, they clearly love it and it shows. The lyrics are fairly typical "I'm awesome so don't act like you're as good as me", but they have some clever moments. I loved the reference to "rolling my waves" on the "grand line". There's also a sense of "Yeah, we're good, but we're not resting on our laurels. There's more to do" that I like.

DLC

Look, Changbin's intros are legendary, but this time he's SINGING? Yes, lets go! Love that for him, he needs to sing more often. This one is so dang catchy, and I know I'm going to be singing along a lot. It's got a sad undertone of loneliness in pain, but there is hope there, a desire to escape the prison by doing something you love, and I get that.

Get Lit

Feels like a sequel to DLC, but with a lot more confidence. I loved the line "we're not gonna die young", and reference to playing the music on your phone even after the speaker dies gives a feeling of "keep going, keep dancing even when things are tough." Also just so dang catchy.

Collision

This is a very different style for them, and they pull it off beautifully. I hope these guys have healthy relationships one of these days. The lyrics are gorgeous though because of course they are since Han wrote them.

FNF

This may very well be my favorite track. For all that it's a catchy, driving chorus, the pathos of this can't be denied. They use Seungmin, I.N., and Felix's voices to perfection to drive home the desperation of helplessness in watching something terrible happen to a place you love. It leaves you with a feeling of hope and recovery, but not without feeling deeply their pain and loss.

Youtiful

Aside from the slightly cheesy portmanteau, this song really is sweet. I think it may be the first fully English original song on an album, and the reasoning behind it is kind and comforting. On top of that, we get to hear all the guys flexing their vocals, and I am ALWAYS down for that. In this instance VocalRacha and Hyunjin really shine, but they all sound amazing. It's great to hear Felix singing more and with greater confidence as well.

The Sound

This one never fails to hit hard, and I think it may be one of my favorite "translated" pieces. I usually struggle with these because my brain gets used to whatever language I heard it in first, and anything else feels weird, but this one feels very natural. Maybe it's just because I love the song, but I'm not arguing.

Time out

Fun, summery, delightful. This one will always have a place in my playlists.

I love all of the songs, and they deserve all the hype they are getting for this album. There may be a day when Stray Kids disappoints me, but it is not this day!

[placegrenette]

Every Ninety One Song Reviewed: “Synbaim,” 2023

“Synbaim,” released as an album pre-promotion single, 2023 Music credits: Daniyar Kulumshin (Bala), Azamat Ashmakyn (Ace), Batyrkhan Malikov (Alem) Lyrics credits: Dulat Mukhametkaliev (ZaQ) Music video director: Amal’ Temerbayev

This is the very last release before the upcoming album, and the teasers so far have been in three different languages—I know! Kazakh, Russian, and English! But the subs on “Synbaim” are in Kazakh, Russian, and Turkish, and I don’t blame Ninety One for wanting to care for their Turkish fans, said fans have had a difficult spring, but for an English-only speaker interpreting something as visually packed as this music video is a challenge. Is it based on Kazakh mythology? What is the “шч” referencing? Is the astronaut meant to be the child grown up or is the relationship between the astronaut and the story on the ground more symbolic?

(“Well, didn’t you watch the behind-the-scenes video?” I did! And not only does that also not have English subtitles, it has selective subbing: Kazakh when the people onscreen are speaking Russian and vice versa. As I type this I have two Google Translate windows open. They’re not helping much, other than to reveal that Amal’ Temerbayev was drawing inspiration from fairy tales and that Madi Rymbaev was the piano player model.)

And it’s frustrating, because this was clearly a labor of love and significance for everyone involved. Temerbayev, especially, but the timing of the release (I think a full month elapsed between the audio of “Synbaim” being made available and the MV coming out) suggests that Ninety One didn’t want to rush him even when he was blowing past deadlines. (About ten minutes into the behind-the-scenes video, in between lots of footage of Temerbayev and his team meticulously constructing the stop-motion stills and ZaQ discussing the meaning of the song, is a clip of Ace being cranky about the delays.) But from this distance it’s hard to get a grip on how video and song come together. There’s a line in the song that translates roughly as “Individuality in a round world is not beautiful,” and the general theme seems to be reaching out for connection with others as a way to deal with pain and hardship. But the video plotline is essentially individualistic: the prince rejects the demand of his angry father and the townspeople to be in the forest with his true love. It’s not just romantic but Romantic; Rousseauvian. There’s a point at which “Don’t isolate yourself from other people” and “Follow your heart” conflict, and Ninety One and Temerbayev seem to be eliding that conflict rather than addressing it.

Also, to be frank, I’m at a disadvantage here, having spent far too much of my childhood with “Sledgehammer” and the California Raisins. (We watched that California Raisins Christmas Special at least three years in a row. Those of y’all thinking the ’80s were a cool time in which to grow up: you are wrong.) I should be impressed by the hard work involved and instead the visual presentation feels muddy to me. I’m very glad the guys did it: this is a nice way of putting their money down to do something different and tie themselves into the larger Almaty arts scene. But neither “Synbaim” the song nor “Synbaim” the music video do a lot for me. Pretty, heartfelt, a nice change of pace, all true; check this out, especially if your musical tastes don’t match mine.

Should You Start Here? Hmm. My first inclination is to say no, just because I don’t particularly love it. But it does have a lot of typical Ninety One touches: the theme of building oneself up against vaguely defined adversity, ZaQ’s spikier rap breaking up the smoother vocalists, Bala charged with emphasizing the rhythm and Ace with going higher on the chorus. So: sure, but if you don’t like “Synbaim,” don’t let that dissuade you.

[seulgistuffs]

✰ like or reblog.

[dancewithmejustforthehellofit]

Whoever phoned it in on this red velvet album is on my hit list now.

[itsinfiniteworld]

new red velvet got me smiling so big i love it 😁 <33

[redvelvetcult]

seulgi // feel my rhythm mv behind for anon 💛

[nightswithkookmin]

SET ME FREE REVIEW #1

I said I wasn't going to write a review so I'm not writing one. This is just a commentary. Take a deep breathe, unclench your jaw amd brace yourself for this ride.

I want to start off by saying, admiting, and testifying that Jimin is a genius point blank period. His creativity, his duality, his delivery and execution in every single art work is an attestation to this fact.

If ever his ingenuity was in question, Set me free sets the record straight. It is only Park Jimin that can dare to assemble such imposing sounds, competing talents, daunting expanse and fine rhythm in one room under the single gaze of an equally brilliant director and not get lost in all that magical mashups.

The song is huge. BTS level huge. And for him to attempt to take on a song that takes 7 brilliant minds of our generation, him included, with varying vocal skills and talent- I must say, Jimin has some big balls on him and I respect him for that.

When I tell you my mind is blown, it is.

The song reminds me so much of BTS and everyone seems to agree. However when they say it's a nod to the group I disagree. I'll explain in a minute.

He draws on familiar elements and artistic devices that's signature to BTS as a group thus infusing among other things, nostalgia and that feeling of excellence and excitement we associate with BTS.

But that was the plan all along wasn't it? To show you he is not afraid take on a big shark like BTS or even to be compared to the brilliance of the group? Namjoon told us in words, Jimin just walked the talk.

I don't think this is a nod to BTS however. Because then we have to ask ourselves, is Jimin celebrating the band or has the band been celebrating Jimin all along.

This is bringing to light the artistic inspiration behind the creation of almost all BTS' master pieces. It's jimin. It's always been Jimin, the choreography, the beat, the visuals- everything has been inspired or created around him and his capabilities. The group has always leaned into his strengths in that way. It's why he transitions so well into it even as Solo.

Blackswan comes to mind. The stunning visuals, the contemporary dance styles, the concepts- everything was woven around Jimin. There are pieces of him intricately woven into the fabrics of BTS.

You can't have BTS without Jimin.

He is the secret ingredient that spiced up the group and this master piece of an MV shows it.

It makes sense to say there are songs that were made for BTS with Jimin in mind, choreographies inspired by him and that played to his strengths and uniqueness too.

It's why people accused him of being Hybe's favorite or the director's pet. The writing was on the wall.

Does this mean the others suck?

Yes.

I'm kidding😆

If you want to look at the strength of BTS you only have to look at the strength of the individual parts that make up BTS. From Namjoon's lyrical intellect, Hobi's versatility, Suga's unmatched flow, to even Tae's radiance- you cannot dispute that these men rose not by luck but by substance.

I used to think their Solo phase was them moving apart and away from their shared identity but now I think its the phase for each of them to model and strut across the biggest runway to show the world what they each bring to the golden table that is BTS. It's not a competition among themselves. Not at all. It's a review and examination of the parts that make up the whole and they all have something to prove.

And by Odin's beard, THEY WILL PROVE THEMSELVES. EACH AND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. IT'S IN THEIR BLOOD. IT'S THE BANGTAN SPIRIT.

He killed it.

He delivered.

Part two will focus more on the themes, visuals and vocal delivery. Look forward to it.

Hashtag drinking Hennessy. I saw what you did there Jimin. And if you read my blogs closely you'll see what I'm getting at.

Cheers Jimin 🍻

YOU DID IT

[opalspring]

About Muu's murder possibly being an accident

Here are some ponders over Muu’s killing of Rei having been potentially unintentional, as well as some observations on her way of thinking.

I’ve been thinking about all this for a bit and wanted to share it. This is gonna be a little long. 

Cw: discussion about suicide

About the “Muu chasing Rei” scene

So, the scene in Afterpain where Muu runs after Rei has always seemed a little strange to me. Why are there so many cuts in the montage, on top of the tone of the song changing completely (not sure that’s the right term)?

It could have just been a way to save on the animation budget and fit the music’s rhythm better, but still.

Let’s have a look at some shots I think are important in this scene:

This shot could hint at the fact Muu’s school shoes were wet and slippery at the time. This will be important later.

Note how the hourglass looks balanced on both sides here.

We can’t see Muu’s shoes here. Why? This has to be important imo

Basically, I think the running scene is made up of two completely distinct scenes. From my understanding, there is one scene where Muu possibly confessed to Rei/ apologized for her actions and ending with Rei leaving, and another where Muu chased after Rei in her school shoes (probably slippery from stepping in the water) and accidentally stabbed her after tripping while she was planning to commit suicide in front of Rei.

Here’s a possible montage of how the chasing scene (with the stabbing) happened chronologically. Added some extras from inmf at the end too.

(This took way too long to make lol)

The ellipse with the screen turning white is important: we’re missing a lot of context on what happened before the stabbing. One way we could explain Rei turning around would be if Muu called out to her (explaining the crows dispersing). But maybe we’ll see in her 3rd mv.

In any case, Muu’s expression during the stabbing shows she’s just as shocked as Rei about what’s happening. Plus, the shoe falling far back behind Muu indicates she tripped with a lot of force, and there’s the detail of her shoes being slippery because of the water from the hose at school. This could reinforce the idea that Rei getting stabbed was an accident.

The other scene would probably just be Muu apologizing/confessing to Rei, then getting ignored. The biggest hint for this is how Muu’s shoes are hidden from view when this happens. This is probably a clue on how she actually has her outdoor shoes at that time. 

About Muu being in denial about the murder

One thing a little eyebrow-raising about Muu is how she keeps denying being in the wrong whenever asked about her murder. At first glance it looks like she feels unconcerned by it and maybe that’s partly true when looking at her second trial interrogation answers. However, I don’t think that’s all there is to it.

Muu might actually be so traumatized by the accident that she simply refuses to acknowledge it, or even think about it, period. This is hinted at in this interrogation question:

What’s the thing you’re most afraid of?

“Painful things, scary things, and also embarrassing things.”

From this we can guess Muu prefers to pretend like things she’s not happy with never happened, since they're painful to think about. It’s not the best idea when it comes to her murdering a person, but this might be what’s happening here and not her not caring about the whole thing.

In my opinion, Muu’s stubbornness about not acknowledging her murder could be partly because she doesn’t want to admit she killed the girl she loves, while she was (maybe) trying to stab herself instead. It was such a huge mistake for her that Muu’s mind likely refused to process it. 

Another detail hints at Muu’s repressed feelings about the crime. As much as she claims to not think it’s her fault, imagery from her mvs /where she can’t lie/ suggests she’s very affected by it in reality:

Whether Muu stabbed Rei out of her own volition or by accident, one thing was sure, she was not in a right state of mind when it happened. Her face here also looks too shocked for the stabbing to have happened intentionally in my opinion.

The trembling hands add to this. 

This is just my interpretation but here Muu really doesn’t look like she meant for the stabbing to happen, since she's hyperventilating and sweating. 

Why the attempted suicide in the first place?

A thing of note from inmf is Muu’s insistence on everything being “as she wishes”. The milestone post for inmf on the yt channel says this:

“God gave me everything”

“Everything is as I wish”

Looking at inmf, it certainly seems this way from Muu’s perspective. However, after this shot of Muu looking back (at Rei calling her out on her actions most likely), we get this:

I find this transition interesting. It’s as if the existence of Rei put Muu in such turmoil it spinned her life around, and led to Rei's demise. It was definitely the turning point moment in inmf. The details are still unclear, but it could be that, when Rei entered Muu’s life, everything wasn’t “as she wishes” anymore. Muu had found something (well, someone) that she couldn’t control (and make hers since it’s implied she loved her).

To complement this, please look at this quote from Muu’s first voice drama:

“I did kill her. But she’s the one to blame! The situation was to a point I had no choice but to kill her. I had such an awful time.”

While I think Muu feels horrible about her murder like mentioned above, this quote, depending on how we interpret it, could show us how Muu couldn’t bear the thought of not having full control in her life. The “awful time” part could be a reference not only to the bullying, but also to the fact she couldn’t control Rei/ get her to love her. 

While she didn’t mean to, she killed Rei, and to cope with the thought she comforted herself by thinking about how it was "the only solution". For possibly the first time in her life, Muu couldn’t get what she wanted, so this was the “only possible outcome” (though I don’t think she believes that deep down).

It’s more complicated than that even, Rei may have been the first person Muu fell in love with. It’s only a headcanon I have, but it’s possible Muu was overwhelmed by her feelings and did everything she could to get Rei to like her (maybe the part where she’s apologizing). She didn't know what to do with her feelings and wanted them reciprocated at all costs. But when Rei understandably pushes her off, with Muu being a bully and all, Muu snaps and becomes suicidal. Some time passes, and her suicide note on her, Muu runs after Rei to take her own life, though we know how this ended.

Muu’s conflicting feelings for Rei

We talked earlier about the visuals during the Muu running scene in Afterpain, but the lyrics during this part are also worth looking into:

“Let’s meet up inside the pain, a place just for me 

Postmortem makeup to hide my heart, how to solve it is a secret 

The stabbing of the little devil’s voice, counterattack being a suicide note 

“I love YOU” ”

In my opinion these are definitely the most important lyrics of the song. The whole thing is too difficult for me to decipher, but I think the “postmortem makeup to hide my heart” could refer to Muu’s romantic feelings for Rei, and how she plans to “bury them” with her suicide. Another thing is the “I love YOU”. I think this is probably the contents of the suicide note, as it goes right after its mention in the song.

Earlier we mentioned how Muu could have tried to commit suicide “because of Rei”. The catalyst for this could have been Muu realizing her crush on Rei, and how she became Muu’s sole weakness.

Do you have apologetic feelings for the person you killed?

“I think the person who wronged first should apologize”

This question was released during T1, but with the additional context from inmf we can infer a few more things here. In Muu’s mind, Rei was the one who did the wrong thing first. That’s quite something to say when Muu was a bully at the time she met her, and the implications of Rei calling her out on it. So why did Muu answer this way? 

It could be simply because of the fact Muu felt unsettled by both Rei having the courage to denounce her bullying, and Muu’s own feelings for her. Once again, Muu was probably scared of things that were out of her control, and so she made Rei "the bad one" in her mind.

Muu's romantic feelings for Rei are also hinted at with Muu’s fondness of tropical fish, that could be influenced by Rei (because of the fish on her backpack). 

This part from inmf is also noteworthy:

Muu’s visibly distraught from what just happened (whether it was an accident or not, it must have been traumatizing for her). This here could be Muu’s mind trying to cope with the situation. And these are the words she chose:

“可哀想なの” = “I’m always the drama queen” in the official English tl, or alternatively “I’m the one who should be pitied”

Why would she say that in that situation? No matter how one looks at it, she just stabbed someone. So why should we pity her? 

In Muu’s mind, it could be that Rei was a component in her life that, for the first time in her life that could make her lose face, like we discussed earlier. We don’t know how Muu’s parents would react to their daughter being a lesbian, but some part of society at least would shun her for it. And the thought of this might have been unacceptable for Muu, who thought since childhood she'd always be pampered no matter what.

That and the fact she accidentally murdered her crush.

So there it is, I hope this wasn’t too confusing! It was very hard to organize all this because Muu, much like Fuuta, keeps her feelings hidden and has sides to her that seem contradictory at times. Muu is a very complex character but very well-written imo, she has both redeeming qualities and bad parts that really make her feel human so it was really fun to come up with this. I hope it didn't look like I was trying to make excuses for Muu or demonize her actions because I feel like it's important to look at the whole picture when discussing her case in particular.